2. Returning to Hogwarts
- Returning to Hogwarts
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, it belongs to J.K Rowling, and the production team behind the movies. But I do own Guinevere and her family, and their history. I’m so glad many of you enjoyed the first chapter and hope you will enjoy this one~
January, 1992
My darling granddaughter,
I’ve been told by your former Headmaster that you are returning from your extended holiday abroad, and look forward to seeing you again. Things have hardly been the same here, your grandfather is working hard as ever in the Ministry. I shall tell you one thing age has hardly affected him. You will find many things unchanged here. Same goes for your father unfortunately, who can hardly find his way out of a bottle of fire whiskey, but at least it hasn’t carried him off into the great hereafter yet. Although my crup hound, Ferny has recently delivered her latest litter. Your sister is thriving in Beauxbaton, and sends letters frequently, though I can hardly say the same for your brother, who is taking to his role as champion duelist. I wish you had attended our usual holiday gatherings, you were sorely missed, but thank you for sending your gifts to us. It was nice to receive them, and a relief that you were well, despite your recent loss, for which I am very sorry. I hope to see you when you have a spare moment, and send you my love.
All My Everlasting Love,
Your grandmother
P.S Nym and Charlie have been asking about you. Please take the time to write to them and assure them you’re alright.
Guinevere must have reread that letter at least a dozen times, and sent back a response right away to reassure her that she would write to her, her family and friends once she reached the castle and sent it with the owl that carried it.
Knowing her grandmother, Fiona she would want her to answer as soon as possible. Now it was time for her to brave the journey across the pond and back home.
Upon the end of the holidays and the start of the new year, Guinevere had packed her belongings from the cabin, traveling by floo, then going to travel by the train. It was nostalgic to be traveling aboard the Hogwarts Express again. She had written quick letters to her friends and family letting them know she was returning, and to send any and all letters to Hogwarts. The young woman knew that they were probably worrying over her, especially Tonks. Growing up and going to Hogwarts together, the two were always close. Granted Tonks’ ideas for pranks always dragged them into unwanted situations and a generous amount of detentions, but as it was, those were the best moments of her life.
According to her last letter, and a letter from Mrs. Tonks, Nym was training to become an Auror, and she was so proud of her. Guinevere was proud of her best friend too. She would have to write to her too once she arrived in Hogwarts.
A rustling of feathers and griping, jarred her out of her thoughts. Guinevere glanced at the dark blue covered falcon, cleaning at his feathers. She moved closer to the cage and subtly stroked the soft feathers, “There, there, Sib’, it’s alright,” she whispered to him gently.
She would have to remember to let him out and stretch his wings and perch about for a bit.
Sibley again suddenly twitched his head upwards at her, looking into her eyes, and again the dark round eyes, reminded her of the deep onyx colored hues that looked so familiar to her once.
In a strange way they almost looked human to her, the way they gazed at her.
Guinevere slowly withdrew her finger and breathed out a sigh through her nose and looked away…for something, or anything to do, before her thoughts would turn black again.
She settled to read the rest of the way there. Reading had been a pastime that always provided her an escape, as she rested her head against her seat, and reclining slightly against the window.
Her eyes drifted to the scenery passing by and it felt dizzyingly peaceful, that she felt herself slip back into the safest and foggiest recesses of her mind…
She could hear the piano playing downstairs, clueing her into where he was now. Smiling to herself, Guinevere walked downstairs, subtly reveling in each crack and creak of the staircase.
Aaron had always promised to fix it, but never did, he always stepped on the creakiest step.
Getting to the bottom, she turned around the corridor and saw the larger parlor room where the piano was – this was the beauty of their humble little cottage. It looked small on the outside, but inside it was a large and spacious treasure chest with valuable trinkets inside.
Leaning against the wall, she watched Aaron play the piano with such skill and fluidity the melody and notes blended together so effortlessly. It seemed like everything he did, was always so effortless.
It let her close her eyes as the music carried her to another dreamlike place in her mind, painting a scene inside of her.
“You’re watching me again,” Aaron commented smoothly, in that low husky but gentle tone.
Even his voice felt like music to her ears, like a dark sweet honey. She opened her eyes and gazed at him, “You inspire such a notion,” she replied, “It is like magic,” she praised.
He paused in his playing and glanced at her over his shoulder. His dark eyes bore into hers.
A half smile crossed his long but handsome face, “Magic,” he echoed quietly.
Almost on a whim, she moved to sit next to him on the piano stool, staring at him a bit longer than at the keys, then resting on his hands. He had such long fingers.
“You alright,” she asked him cautiously.
His hands didn’t even twitch and gave nothing away. She lifted her gaze back up to him, as she stared at the profile of his face.
Aaron’s face looked set and calm, as he stared ahead with a transparent yet unreadable gaze.
“I’ve never been better,” he answered finally after a few more moments of silence; she had learned not to press him for answers, or to talk.
He liked to take his time, even when it came to conversing. It was as though he simply reveled in the act of conversation, preferring not to rush, and take his time when speaking with someone.
“You don’t say,” she watched him.
Aaron gave a brief smile at that, “You don’t believe me,” he observed calmly. Guinevere noticed that Aaron always looked so unruffled and unbothered. She could not recall ever seeing him angry.
“Hard to when you’ve already decided on so many things without me,” Guinevere replied as she looked at him imploringly.
Again he didn’t look upset with her words, his smile returned with a bit more resolve to it, “It’s nothing to be upset over,” he shrugged it off. His face looked peaceful, even as he turned to look at her. His eyes hooked hers, “And you? What have you decided…?” In that moment she felt something crush her lungs in at the force of his gaze.
She jerked awake slowly, as the trained rocked unevenly to a stop, making her leave the dream. The young woman stretched a little before getting up and getting her luggage together, and had it follow after her in a magically pulled trolley. After what seemed like forever, she had arrived as the sun was setting, and she slowly descended down from the train, holding onto the cage, being careful to mind Sibley. Looking around she saw some of the students already in clusters being ushered to the boats, and idly wondered if Hagrid would be escorting them back.
She heard a sharp call of her name and turned to see McGonagall calling for her and approaching her, “You’ve made it,” she gave her a kind smile.
Guinevere returned the smile and nodded at her, “I’ve made it,” she echoed, though inside she couldn’t help but think to herself, ‘I’ve made it home.’
“Thank you for having me,” the young woman told her pleasantly, giving her a gentle smile.
McGonagall beamed at her proudly then paused, looking downwards. Somehow it felt to the cage she was holding.
“What in Merlin’s name is that,” McGonagall asked loudly pointing to a cage containing Guinevere’s beloved falcon.
“That is Sibley, my falcon,” Guinevere explained carefully, then looking at the cage which she lifted up gently to show as she stared at the falcon who regarded her back with his sharp dark eyes.
She lowered the cage delicately, and followed after her as she located her bags and charmed them to float behind her. McGonagall followed along with her, eyeing the peculiar choice of companion; usually it was an owl that was a companion for any witch or wizard. Still they proceeded on their way. Guinevere took in the scenery, as she transported her belongings to her quarters. It was just the two women and her falcon walking together, and they took this chance to bond. The older woman matched paces with her as they progressed up towards the school – in some moments they would converse or ask questions. Throughout her school years, the Transfiguration professor had been one of her many favorites; overall, Guinevere had enjoyed her time at school. And even now as they approached the castle and she looked up at the stone structure and masonry appreciatively and nostalgically.
“As you know you will be teaching Magical Theory as an elective course for our first years,” she explained to her as they walked down the halls and corridors together, “And because it is an elective, your time will be open. The Headmaster hopes you can continue your research and work,” McGonagall told her.
Idly Guinevere observed that there was very few students around and she must have realized that many were still not back from the holidays yet. She wondered if Annie and Lizzie would be happy to see, she has returned.
Last time she saw them, she had graduated, and the girls were both in their second year. They should be in their third year now. Guinevere should invite them out to Hogsmeade later when they return.
“This will be a lighter year for you in regards to your work,” she let her know.
The older woman and her once former pupil walked down through the winding halls and corridor, both lapsing into a comfortable but pregnant silence.
For Guinevere, it felt nostalgic to be back, and she remembered in her sixth year, she had once considered becoming a professor as a career, if not an alchemist. Even a court scribe like her mother had been.
But now here she was back here in the place that held so many fond memories for her – more good than bad, but still…there was a lot that had kept her from coming back.
“I trust you will take this time to unpack and get your bearings here, before dinner,” McGonagall informed her leaving her in her classroom.
Now alone, Guinevere gazed at the classroom, the wooden desks and noticed how bare and empty it looked. Getting her wand, she flicked it simply and set it all up; her books, her maps, charts, relics, knick-knacks and the like to add a slight personal touch to it. It was times like this she enjoyed magic. Looking around herself, she nodded to herself – now it looked like a home away from home. Once the classroom was done, she sauntered into her office and quarters, and went to work setting it up too. Bending down she unzipped her luggage and pulled out her own personal books, journals, research notes, and stationary on the shelves or at her desk. She unpacked her clothes and hung them up or put in drawers.
The young woman decided to change for dinner tonight, and decided to dress modestly and semi-formally.
A knock at her door jarred her out of her thoughts and she went to answer it, revealing McGonagall – Guinevere hadn’t even realized how much time had passed, “Is it time already?”
McGonagall shook her head, “No my dear, the Headmaster wants to see you.”
Guinevere nodded looking down at her clothes wondering if she should change again – she was in a long cardigan, long skirt, and gray high-neck sweater. This would have to do wouldn’t it?
Without a word and only a curt nod, she followed the older woman out, leaving Sibley back in her office, and his food in his cage for him. As she walked, they all still looked the same; the staircase still had the habit of changing, and the portraits bid her their greetings and welcomes. She hadn’t realized how much she missed this place, even the people here – she would have to take the remainder of these free days to catch up with the staff here as well. She stopped right behind McGonagall as they stood outside of Dumbledore’s office, with the golden phoenix statue facing them. The older woman gestured for her to step inside the gilded staircase, and then McGonagall spoke the password, “Sherbet Lemon.” The staircase moved her up and into the office.
She could count on her hand, the number of times she’s been in Dumbledore’s office, and mostly it had been for achievements.
The few times it was bad was when she was dragged into Tonks’ crazy pranks, and one time when she blew up the potion’s lab, due to an alchemic experiment…She had never seen Snape’s face turn that shade of red~ In his defense she did create a hole in his wall.
Stepping inside she could still see that everything was more or less the same. It reminded Guinevere of a solar or observatory, with the orb in the center and the three steps leading to his desk, or the shelves against the wall. Her eyes caught sight of the Sorting Hat.
She ascended up the steps and walked to the shelves to get a closer look at the worn old hat. “Hah, well if it isn’t one of the ones I had difficulty placing,” the hat coughed gruffly and laughed, “And with that same pensive look,” he scoffed.
Her lips twitched subtly and stepped away, not feeling up to getting into a scrap with a hat right now.
Her eyes swept through the room before her. Dumbledore wasn’t here yet, she noticed.
As she looked around she noted that not a thing had changed, not even the phoenix resting atop its mount. A magnificent creature truly, in Guinevere’s opinion, intelligent, with the way it looked at her.
She couldn’t help but wonder if it could smell or sense death on her? Though this creature was the balance between both life and death.
“Admiring Fawkes, I see,” Dumbledore’s old withered voice spoke up, “Or studying him,” he mused fondly.
Guinevere turned her head slightly, looking over her shoulder, giving a half smile, “Whatever is in the nature of a former Ravenclaw to do,” she replied cryptically.
He wheezed out a warm laugh, “Your humor was very much missed, dear Miss Bancroft,” he remarked, “And that is a very Ravenclaw answer to give.”
The brunette turned to him to fully face him and smiled cordially, “I’m glad someone understood it. And thank you. I think I’ve always wondered if I belonged here or not,” she admitted, her eyes drifting off to the side, “Now I believe I do.”
Dumbledore gazed at her with a long look, that she couldn’t quite decipher, but then she never could read him, which was a constant source of inner frustration.
“Hogwarts has always been a place for all to belong,” he said to her sagely, “Everyone has asked themselves whether or not they belong,” he told her softly.
Her eyes met his and she cleared her throat, “You wanted to see me,” she asked changing the subject.
He crossed the room and went to sit at his desk, “Yes. I wanted to give you the class list and any tools you might need to carry on with the course, including the book,” he lets her know, “Oh and just so there are no surprises you will be having young Mr. Pot-,” she cut him off abruptly.
“Potter, yes I know,” she forced a brittle, joyless smile at him – of course, he would be attending this year.
During her time away from England, she had let herself forget all that happened here. With the Dark Lord gone, she thought everyone could breathe easy now. Guinevere had hoped that her father certainly would…
Dumbledore surveyed her with a searching gaze, and again Guinevere willed the smile to stay and give nothing away, “Thank you Headmaster,” she said simply, “Now if that is all, may I be excused to prepare for dinner tonight, and the following morning,” she stated.
The aging wizard hummed but nodded slowly, “Yes, of course, we all look forward to seeing you tonight.
With that, Guinevere nodded smiling still before turning around and walking out. Her smile fell completely…
She had stepped into the Great Hall before the students had come in and walked calmly towards the table at and managed to find her seat as the other professors greeted her. The hall was abuzz just as she remembered from her youth, and it warmed her as much as the meal before her.
It looked as beautiful and as grand as she had remembered it in her years here. She knew it wasn’t that long but still it felt like a lifetime, though it had only been half a year ago.
The professors were mostly conversing amongst themselves, as the students slowly filed in and the Hall was filled with louder chatter and voices of the students now.
Dumbledore stood up as everyone got quiet, and Guinevere could barely hear what was being said until she heard her name and a nudge to her side, then blinked and remembered to stand up giving everyone a smile, before sitting back down.
Guinevere caught Annie’s gaze and the blond haired girl flashed her a smile, which Guinevere returned, recalling memories of the young girl and her sister, Elizabeth, back during her school days, with the two girls being some years behind her.
She remembered being here when Annie was sorted into Gryffindor and Elizabeth had been sorted into Ravenclaw. Guinevere remembered their mother, Beatrice being very proud of them both.
The young brunette’s eyes drifted to the Ravenclaw table and she quickly found the sable haired girl, who met her gaze, flashed her a grin and winked. Cheeky girl~
She sat back down and the feast commenced with the chatter again as everyone began to eat.
Guinevere turned back to Annie who was now preoccupied catching up with her friends again.
The younger girl grinned then turned back to converse with her boyfriend, Theo Decker and their friends. The Weasley twins, Guinevere recognized. She vaguely recalled Charlie’s younger brothers – those that began to attend the school when she was still a student. There was Charlie’s oldest brother, Bill; Guinevere remembered him being 2 years ahead of her, and she also remembered having a small crush on him when she was around 13 or 14. Charlie was in her year, then after him was Percy, or Perfectionist as she heard the twins call him. Fred and George were always full of mischief, and then there was another brother…one Guinevere couldn’t recall meeting, but knew his name started with an ‘R’, and finally Charlie mentioned their youngest, being a girl, who should start attending next year.
The Gryffindor table seemed to be more livelier than ever – she had heard that the boy who lived was sorted into it.
No doubt that was the reason for it. One would think after some time, the novelty would wear off.
“Oh Guinevere it is so good to see you again, and have you here again,” Pomona Sprout commented drawing her into a conversation.
The young woman smiled back at her former Herbology professor, “It feels good to be back, professor.”
Professor Sprout beamed at her proudly, “Just think, you, a former pupil back here and working here again. We are all so very proud of you. And everyone is so glad to see you,” she praised fondly.
A former pupil working back here after only half a year, maybe longer and now here she was, she must be one of the youngest professors here…
Guinevere was about to respond but felt a strangely cold burn on her, and recognized the feeling; only one reason it would occur, and with one person being the cause behind it. Subtly she turned to face them, and met the cold dark gaze of her former potions professor.
The dungeon bat, Severus Snape, with his constant, permanent scowl and dark glower.
Swallowing thickly, Guinevere couldn’t stop the words from escaping her lips as her words trailed off, “Everyone, eh?”
“Y-y-yes ind-deed,” she heard a slightly stammering and stilted voice answer her question making her turn to the owner and to her surprise seeing that it was Professor Quirrell. She remembered him teaching Muggle Studies last time she was here.
“Thank you Professor Quirrell. It’s good to see you again,” she returned his smile, noticing his oddly pale and shaken self. He did not look well to her.
“I-it’s g-good to see you again, Miss B-Bancroft. You happy to be back,” he asked her pleasantly.
“Very,” she gazed at him then caught the gaze of the person sitting on his other side – the dungeon bat was now looking away from them and staring ahead at the students with a scowl.
“Do you still teach Muggle Studies,” she asked the nervous looking man, making conversation.
“O-oh no, I’ve b-been given the new p-post of Defense Against the D-Dark Arts,” Quirrell replied looking a touch pleased.
The young woman hummed, at that pleasantly, stealing a subtle glance at the man dressed in his black robes. Perhaps that was why he was so upset…
She remembered the years she had been here, she had heard through gossip that he had coveted that position very much. But something obvious within her told her that Professor Snape did not want her here.