Standing outside the heavy wooden door, the dark-haired girl rapped out against it in an impatient rhythm. After a few moments it was opened by a wide-eyed boy, Max Felide, whom she strode past and into the dorm room. “Guess who I saw earlier, prowling outside the entrance,” she started, announcing her presence to the two boys in the two beds in the far corner.
Scorpius looked up from the books he had been arranging, while Albus turned from the window that displayed the murky depths of the Black Lake, eyes narrowed. “No,” he spat the word under his breath, at once knowing exactly what she meant.
As they watched, Nim pitched backwards, allowing herself to hit the awaiting mattress of Albus’ bed. “Yes,” she confirmed as she looked up at him, smirking. The younger boy glowered, displeasure curling at his lips as he fidgeted with his hands. “He wanted to remind you to write a letter to your mum, so that he can send it along tomorrow,” she clarified.
“It’s not even the first day, and already he’s breathing down my neck,” Albus complained, stepping away from the window to pace along the length of his bed. “Write a letter? Nothing’s happened, what am I supposed to write?”
“Why don’t you write that, then?” Nimue quirked her brows, smiling slyly. “There’s nothing to write about, mum. Love, Al.”
“Yeah, that’ll go well,” the boy muttered darkly, before his tone turned more whining. “This is such a bloody pain.”
Scorpius, who was usually the first to comfort his friend, was very quiet, as he often was when it came to the subject of mothers. It hadn’t been much more than a year since his mother had passed away, finally succumbing to the curse that had been passed down in the Greengrass family. While Albus had attended the funeral and took care to support his friend when he needed it, at times he could be too wrapped up in his head to remember what might remind Scorpius of the hole in his life. Of course, the nature of how Nim felt about her lack of parents was different from the young Malfoy boy, she was plenty quick at recognizing the hurt that this subject could cause if it continued to be drawn out.
“Then why don’t you write about all the idiots clamoring to enter their names into the Goblet of Fire?” she remarked derisively, choosing to steer the conversation in a direction that would serve her needs and hopefully distract the boys at hand from their mothers. “I can’t imagine why anyone would be so foolish,” she scoffed.
“But it’d be such an honor, if you’re chosen to be a champion,” Scorpius spoke up immediately, as she had expected. “And if you win--”
“If, if, if,” Nimue interrupted, her tone sing-song. “I don’t like games of chance. Not only that, how bird-brained d’you have to be to risk your neck for a planned event in school?” she continued flippantly. “Everyone acts as if one has to make their mark in life here and now. We should have loftier goals, ambitions actually worth betting it all on--and some silly competition isn’t it.” She fixed Albus, who had been silent the whole exchange, with a look, her blue eyes boring into his. “Don’t you think so too?”
There was a moment of stillness before Albus’ conflicted expression settled. “Yeah,” he agreed with a note of finality, letting out a brooding sigh as he came to sit on the bed. His horned lizard scampered about on his shoulders, and she reached up to poke it playfully, though it appeared unamused by the prodding.
Scorpius, who she knew was not going to argue the subject further when the two other members of their trio were against him, also joined them on the bed, sitting cross-legged so he could scoop his tabby cat into his arms. For a while there was silence between the three, with only the sound of Pandora’s purring vibrating through the air. Then Scorpius spoke up, having noticed something amiss. “Where’s Emrys?” he inquired.
She took a breath, debating what to say for a moment. When the answer had come to her she turned to the boys, a strange smile playing on her lips. “Home,” she answered simply.
“Home?” Albus echoed, his brow furrowing. His confusion was understandable--after all, he knew what she thought of ‘home.’
“You heard me,” she rolled her eyes, sitting up before getting to her feet. Albus and Scorpius didn’t press the matter, knowing that Nim was not one to be persuaded into divulging things once she’d deemed them to be her little secret. “Alright, I’m off--I’m assuming that even you two aren’t dull enough to get lost tomorrow morning?”
“We know where we’re going,” the dark-haired boy snipped back with mock annoyance. “We’re fourth years now. No need to baby us.”
“Right,” she drawled, only to reach out and ruffle his hair into a mess. As he began his protests, she gave them one last smirk before leaving them be, leaving their dorm and heading off to her own room.
All conversation halted for a tense moment as she stepped through the door, four pairs of eyes landing almost accusingly on her. Instead of withering under their gazes, she brushed them off with an irreverent smile. “Don’t me mind me, girls,” she commented before she headed to her assigned bed and busied herself with putting away her things, ignoring their insistent stares. She wasn’t going to lose any sleep tonight, no. While Nim had never had any interest in Quidditch, common sense dictated that one should be well rested before a match--and well, whether anyone else knew it or not, the game was on.
True to a player who intended to succeed no matter what, Nimue rose early the next morning, making sure everything was in picture perfect place before she left the dorm room. While she had taken her own brand of care when it came to her appearance in the years prior, having taken a fancy to bold eyeliner and messy plaits, the look she was now going for was something quite different. When she stepped into the Greenhouse for her first class, her steps sure and back straight, she was the very picture of a young heiress. As she walked towards the desks towards the front of the room, her blue eyes flicked to the glass of the greenhouse, taking in the vague reflection of herself. With her poise and her hair pulled back and plaited up just so, she looked very much like her aunt. The thought brought a quick smile to her lips before she even realized it.
As Professor Longbottom gathered the attention of his students to his blackboard, Nim couldn’t help but steal a look around the room. He wasn’t here--but well, perhaps that was to be expected of him. Indeed, fifteen minutes into class, James Sirius Potter snuck into the room. It did not escape the girl’s notice, seeing that the only empty desk available was two rows in front of where she was seated, but neither did he manage to hide his absence from the professor, who only greeted him with a good natured familiarity.
While the other students were engaged in quiet, scattered conversation, Nim had not opened her mouth since class had started. This was nothing new, of course. The only people who might bother to make small talk with her were currently in Divination class. Seeing that their courses had never aligned, the dark-haired girl had never had much of a reason to whisper with classmates or send around charmed notes. Of course, there was always one form of interaction she could count on.
The girl seated in front of her, Pipa Starling, had spent the past five minutes trading petty comments about Nimue with the girl sitting next to her, Madeline Lee. When she’d grown quiet, it’d been enough of a warning for Nimue, who had suffered through her antics for more than a few years by now. It was a subtle movement at the corner of her eye--a slight twisting of the body, a hand sneakily drawing a wand--but this time, unlike all the times before, when Pipa turned with her wand in her grasp, a hand lashed out like a striking serpent, catching her wrist. Blue eyes glared up to meet startled brown ones, but before Pipa could hiss for her release, Nimue did just that, letting her go. “Go on, then, make your move,” Nim dared her, at first garnering a stunned expression from the girl which quickly turned to anger. Pipa’s lip curled with contempt, the grip on her wand tightening--but Nimue was not yet quite done speaking. “But once you do,” she continued, her eyes hard as she slipped her hand into the pocket of her robe, where her wand waited. “It’ll be my turn. We’ll see how much ill-intent I can muster for you, Starling,” she intoned menacingly, her gaze intent on the girl glowering at her.
“Freak!” Pipa snarled, jutting her chin at her, her wand clutched tight. Nim did not draw her wand, only goading her own with her chilling gaze. This wasn’t the first time Nim had glared at her. After all, it was all she’d really done whenever she’d been the target of her snide comments and petty jinxes. This time, however, the cutting light burning in her eyes held a real threat, and she saw something she could’ve never even imagined before--Pipa Starling, the proud Slytherin pureblood, seemed to shrink from under her gaze.
“Let it go, Pipa,” a whispered voice entered the fray--Dominique Weasley, tugging instantly at Pipa’s sleeve. Still, the girl resisted, her pride keeping her in place despite the unease that was clearly starting to fill her up.
When Professor Neville Longbottom called out to them, however, the Slytherin girl turned away quickly, loath to seem anything but the clever star student she liked to be seen as. Nimue, too, met the professor’s asking gaze with nothing short of a pleasant smile, as if Pipa had only been asking her for a spare quill. Then she went straight back to copying down the properties of fluxweed, pretending that she didn’t feel the eyes on her--a pair of which she knew belonged to a certain Potter.
The night sky was heavy with dark clouds as she crept down the halls. Periodically, through the paned glass she could glimpse dim flashes sparking in the midst of those clouds, crackles that had yet to form into lightning quite yet. It was easy to tell, however, that a storm was beginning to brew. That was perhaps the only thing she ever missed about that house--being able to fall asleep to the sound of raindrops tapping out their steady rhythm on the glass of her window. While the sounds of the lake were more than calming, it could not quite compare to the sounds of a storm. Growing up, she’d found that whenever it rained or stormed, she felt a little lighter; when the wind howled and the rain came pouring down, it would feel as if the elements were expressing all the things she could not. She could only hope that it would start to rain before she would have to sneak her way back into her bed, but for now, there were more important things for her to worry about.
The Library was still when she stepped inside--to be expected, as the hour was late. Still, she had no intentions of getting caught wandering when all students were meant to be in bed, and so she moved cautiously in the dark, taking note of her surroundings as she made her way to the great fire place. She stood before it, her gaze briefly flicking to the windows near her as a flash split the sky off in the distance. A crooked smile formed at her lips, but before she had the chance to wait for the next strike, the fireplace in front of her came to life, an image of her aunt’s head forming up out of it. “Aunt Morgana,” she greeted, a flush of warmth filling her at the foreign word. Aunt. She’d never once had the occasion to use it before this summer.
“Nimue, love,” came her familiar voice, lilting just so. “You’ve been well, I trust?”
She nodded, eager to see pride glinting in the older woman’s eyes. “Haven’t had a spell go haywire, even once.”
“That’s my girl. Didn’t I say that you shouldn’t doubt yourself?”
“You did,” she admitted, pausing before she returned a question of her own. “And Avalon?”
“Asleep, if she knows what’s good for her,” Morgana replied with mock severity, as if she suspected that her young daughter might yet be awake to eavesdrop. “Again, I’m sorry about Emrys,” she then continued, giving her a wry smile. “I promise, I’ll send him back to you as soon as I can.”
Nimue uttered a quiet chuckle, shaking her head. “No, that’s alright. I’m glad he can keep her company,” she said, affection warming up her voice. When the summer had come to an end, little Avalon had been crushed to have to let her new cousin go, utterly inconsolable until Nim had offered to leave Emrys in her care as a living memento of her. The pure white corn snake had been her constant companion since her third year, but the gaping hole of loneliness that had been at the center of her heart had been filled enough for her to part with him for the moment. “He’s not being difficult, is he?” Nimue asked, brow creasing with some concern.
“He’s been nothing but patient. It’s Avalon who won’t leave the poor thing be,” her aunt remarked, and both women shared a quick laugh at that. However, they couldn’t afford to spend too much more time on simple well-wishes and chatter. Morgana’s expression grew more serious as she went on. “Now, the drawing…” she began, her voice equal parts cautious and determined.
“Tomorrow,” Nim supplied promptly.
“Good. Soon I’ll be able to send you the details for the first task--and the day the setup will begin. Now, before then...”
Before then--yes, Nimue knew what she had to do. “I’ll try,” she started, only to stop herself. No,
try wasn’t the right word. “I will,” she corrected herself, squaring her shoulders neatly and holding her head high, mimicking the woman before her.
“That’s right,” her aunt nodded, offering her another smile, though it seemed oddly weary. “Everything has to go as planned.” The words were muttered seemingly for Nimue, but the way her eyes were distant made it sound more as if she was speaking to herself.
“Are you alright, Aunt Morgana?” Nim ventured at once, studying the lines on her face. Was it her imagination, or did it seem like dark circles were ringing her aunt’s eyes? “You don’t look well.”
“No, no, it’s nothing,” the older woman waved the notion away, but her chipper attitude now appeared somewhat forced. “Don’t trouble yourself. I’ve just had my hands full since you’ve left, darling.” She cleared her throat, and Nim knew that the conversation was over. “I’ll be in touch soon, Nimue. Until then--you take care of yourself.”
“You too,” Nim returned, a smile back on her face. “Tell Uncle Armand I say hello--and to Avalon and Emrys too, of course.” Morgana nodded, and once they’d exchanged their farewells, the fireplace went dark and silent. Not a second afterwards, however, a sound caused her to give a jolt, her eyes wide with alarm as she looked up.
That sound--that was the library door.
Quickly, she darted behind the nearest shelf of books, a hand over her mouth. Was it the groundskeeper? Being caught lurking about at nighttime was bad enough, but that was the least of Nimue’s worries at the moment. The timing--it was too close for comfort. Had they heard her speaking to Morgana? Worse, had they heard from the start? Her jaw tightened at the grim thought, and her fingers curled about her wand. If so, things were about to get far more stickier.
