9 To Feel Alive
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October 9, 1990, 6:12 AM, Outside Gryffindor Common Room
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I closed the portrait behind me, making sure it fell into place as quietly as possible so as to not wake anyone up.
After one last look at the sleeping figure of the Fat Lady, I turned around and set out onto the seventh-floor corridor, the tweeting of the morning birds serenading my appearance.
The vacant corridors were quiet, and devoid of the usual clamour of students. Though to be honest, I preferred it that way. The sole sound of my footfalls was calming and let me enjoy the tranquillity of the morning.
By October, Autumn had made way for the frigid winds of winter that sought to bite and howl at all in sight. A dewy mist had spread across the corridor overnight, snaking as far as I could see— there was still more filtering in through the glass-less windows of the hallway. Shuddering, I wrapped my cloak around myself and walked just a little faster.
Soon enough, I neared the entrance to the Room of Requirement, stopping in front of the bare stone wall.
Just as I began to pace around, I felt a cold wind—though it'd be more apt to call it a chill—pierce past the protection of my robes and through my chest. I shivered and spun around, simultaneously summoning my wand. It instantly slipped into my hand, thrumming with power.
"Jolly good morning is it not?" asked a voice. It sounded ethereal, as if it were being spoken through water, or from within an empty room.
In front of me was a ghost, hovering above the ground. I frowned and considered whether or not to cast the Wand-Lighting Charm, if only to give myself some peace of mind, but eventually decided against it.
The ghost hadn't done anything worth being repelled. 'Not yet at least.'
"It could be a tad better though," I replied evenly, looking up at the ghost. He wore a pair of breeches accompanied by a bloodstained tunic. His face was waxy, clear marks of age adorning it and he boasted an impressive Van Dyke goatee. "Now, what's your name? I doubt that it'd be nice for me to go around calling you 'Ghost' now, would it?"
The ghost's face fell, as if I had offended him. Though he composed himself a moment later and cleared his throat.
"I would very well hope not!" he huffed, glowing a shade brighter. "I am Sir Nicholas De Mimsy-Porpington. And though you must have forgotten that I introduced myself to you during the welcoming feast, it is nonetheless a pleasure to meet you."
I didn't really remember him much but nodded my head regardless. Better to save myself the hassle.
"And I'm Asim Dovahkiin," I replied. I stretched out my hand by force of habit before hastily returning it to my side. Instead, I placed a hand on my sternum and offered him some sort of crude bow. "So, is it alright if I shorten that to Nicholas?"
He stared at me silently, a searching look on his face. It almost grew awkward until he broke out into a small but genuine smile. "That is fine. I can also call you Asim, yes?"
"Sure, feel free," I waved, turning around, and started to walk back down the corridor. There was no point in going to the Room of Requirement now that I had an unexpected guest. "It'd only be fair."
To an outside observer, I had no doubt it looked hilarious. A child having a conversation with a ghost. Thankfully, this was the Wizarding World, where logic was thrown out of the window thanks to the phenomenon called magic.
"So, Nicholas," I said, taking care to not fall through one of the many false steps of the castle. "Tell me a bit about yourself."
The ghost was quite happy to do so. He told me about his days at school where he was sorted into Gryffindor, how he hailed from the Noble Mimsy-Porpington House, and how despite his unimpressive appearance, was quite the dab hand at Charms.
"You see, I wasn't all that good at Transfiguration. In fact, I was completely terrible at it! Something about my impatience— codswallop if you ask me!" he exclaimed. His voice echoed down the empty hallway. "But Charms was another question entirely. And in fact, my prowess in the field was so renowned that I was appointed as King Henry VII's Court Wizard just a mere two years after graduating from Hogwarts." He straightened his back and held his head up high.
'But you're still a ghost…'
Despite his exciting recount of his life, the man seemed to have had some regrets. Or else he wouldn't have returned as an apparition to live a poor mockery of what he once had— an un-life.
But it wasn't my business to pry. Soon, it was time for breakfast, and I had to bid the ghost goodbye, but not before agreeing to take him up on his offer to meet with me again.
Whether or not I truly intended to meet up with him was another question entirely.
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oOOOo
Third Floor, Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom, 9:12 AM
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"Hags," Ancile's voice rang out from the front of the class. It was accompanied by the soft patter of rain on the classroom's windows. Ancile clasped his hands behind his back, the creaking of wood following his many steps around the classroom. "Are beings that are not too dissimilar to us humans."
"They also have an appetite for children…" I muttered under my breath. I had been reading ahead and was a little under halfway done in terms of theory for the year, at least in the wanded subjects.
Thankfully, I seemed to be doing a lot better than a few days ago, but I still felt aimless. Like I was stuck in the middle of a wide street with fog surrounding me on all sides. And as usual with these things: the only way out, is usually through.
That, however, was far easier said than done, I thought.
The few days that I spent moping around had only served to highlight to me how much of an imbecile I was. What the mirror had shown me was achievable, no matter what my mind told me. In a world of magic, there was so much to explore, so much to learn and uncover that feeling sorry for myself paled in comparison.
'But it's not like I feel any better…'
I quite wisely chose to ignore the thought.
"What did you say?" asked Katie from next to me. She stopped thumbing the textbook and carefully set it atop the neat stack of stationary on the edge of the table.
"Nothing, nothing…"
A few chuckles sounded from around the room. I doubted that they knew what hags truly were. They were most probably Muggleborns who thought that fairytales accurately depicted how vile hags could be. 'Too bad for them, I suppose.'
"Yes, yes, I suppose it would be funny…" he began. His voice was light but somehow managed to carry a sinister undertone. "That is until you find out that hags eat children."
The laughter died almost immediately. In fact, I was sure that I'd heard a startle choke from somewhere in the room.
"Oh yes, hags are magical beings resembling old women. The only difference is that they have four toes on each foot and a desire to feast on children and other raw meats. They find them to be quite the delicacy." he came to a stop, both in speech and his wandering around the classroom.
Taking but a moment to pause for breath before continuing. "In fact, hags were so famous in the Middle Ages that they had managed to spotlight in many Muggle legends and fairy tales."
"Here are just a few of the notable ones. Leticia Somnolens, a hag who conspired against a princess back in the Middle Ages, inspired the story of the Sleeping Beauty." he said. "Another—Maladora Grymm—used a Beautification Potion to get herself married to a king and then used a charmed mirror to satisfy her ego and pitiful self-image. That was until she grew jealous of the most beautiful girl in the kingdom and plotted to kill her with a poisoned apple. Any of these sound familiar?"
I sat up a little straighter thanks to an intriguing thought that had decided to push itself to the forefront of my mind.
"Yes, Mr Dovahkiin." said Ancile, waving towards me. Almost immediately, I heard the collective rustle of cloth as the class turned to stare at me.
I might have been seeing things, but I could have sworn I saw his eyebrows rise upwards before he gave me the all-clear.
"I was wondering sir," I paused for a moment to take in a breath. "How long do hags actually live for?"
"A good question," he nodded at me before raising his voice. "Did you all hear that? He asked how long hags live. Well, hags can live for three hundred to four hundred years, though there are some who live for even longer."
Ancile stopped, before pointing towards the back of the class. "Yes?"
"On the topic of Magical Beings from our fairy tales, sir, can you tell us about Vampires?" asked an earnest sounding Hufflepuff boy.
I turned around to get a better look at him. He had dark-coloured hair and bright verdant eyes. Unlike the majority of his housemates, he seemed to be more outgoing. His lips were crooked; a permanent smirk fixed upon his face.
"Today's lesson is on hags," said Ancile. The class groaned in disappointment. "But, if you guys can finish the work before ten to 10, I'll enlighten you about the state of Vampires in Wizarding Britain."
Looking around the class, I watched the frantic scramble for stationary and rolls of parchment before being brought back by a tug to my forearm.
"What?" I turned around to look at Katie.
"Hurry up and get started!" she whispered furiously.
Shaking my head, I showed her my roll of parchment before laying my head down onto the table.
A little while later, I stood to the side of the class, waiting for the queue to dwindle. That was when I heard Professor Ancile call my name.
"Mr Dovahkiin," he asked. "Would you mind waiting for a little bit."
Thankfully, the classroom was loud enough for no-one but Katie to hear him. Either that, or they didn't care. It was probably a combination of both.
"What do you think he wants?" she asked curiously.
"I've no idea. It's probably nothing though. Meet you at the Great Hall?"
She nodded, adjusting her backpack. "I'll be sitting with the Twins, Alicia and Angelina."
She walked out of the door, coming to a stop once she was a way away to wave at me before disappearing within the folds of the crowd.
I closed the door behind the last student and turned around to face the professor.
"So, Professor," I stepped towards his desk, dragging a chair from behind one of the tables and taking a seat before him. "What's the occasion for this, not that I don't enjoy the company."
He chuckled, floating over the many textbooks littered around the classroom. "I wanted to check in with you. These past few days you've seemed… for lack of a better term, distant. I know I'm a few days late but better late than never, right?"
I stared at him, stunned. Of all the things I thought he'd call me in for, this was not one of them.
I blinked owlishly, gears whirring to formulate some kind of response.
"I'm fine now, sir, mostly," I assured him. "In fact—!"
Behind his desk, the fireplace suddenly flared to life, the flames leaping upwards. A jovial voice rang out from it.
"Professor," called the voice. It sounded strangely familiar, but it crackled and roared, as if the flame had been given a voice. "Professor, can you hear me?"
Standing up, I strode around the desk, only to stare at the face of Professor Flitwick. Only, it wasn't his face. Not exactly, at least. The very cinders and firewood of the fireplace moulded itself to make up his facial features. With every word he spoke, flecks of ash and fire flew out of his mouth
"Professor Ancile. It's me, Filius. Sorry to disturb you!" he said.
"Not at all, Filius," he replied. "Though you certainly scared Mr Dovahkiin half to death!"
"Ah yes, Mr Dovahkiin! Just the person I wanted to talk to!"
"Me sir?" I asked, curiosity and a smidge of caution lowering the pitch of my voice. "Have I done anything wrong?"
"Nothing of the sort, lad!" he assured me. "It is of some importance, though, so I would like you to come to my office on the seventh floor."
I stifled a sigh upon hearing the end of his sentence. The Professor was good-natured, and had invited me to his office multiple times during my funk, something that I was certainly not ungrateful for.
I supposed that it wouldn't hurt to accept his invitation for once. 'Not that I have the option to refuse it this time…'
"Well it seems our conversation has been put to a premature end, Mr Dovahkiin." Ancile frowned, though there was no real heat behind his words. He put a hand on my shoulder and steered me towards the door. "Go on ahead to Professor Flitwick's office. We can pick this up at a later date, if you so desire."
He closed the door behind me, but not before reminding me that I had homework due the next lesson.
I took a moment to stand still and observe the corridor. A cacophony of noise washed over my ears, though it wasn't unpleasant. I thought that it added to the school's ambience. Walking forwards, I thought of everything I could say to assuage the professor's worries before deciding that telling him the truth would suffice.
After all, I felt that he deserved that much at the very least, for being one of the very few people who worried for me over the last week.
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oOOOo
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I set down the steaming cup of tea and watched the cupcake trail across the table performing a series of pirouettes. It reached the edge, gave me a short bow, and took a plummet before floating upwards, a trail of shimmering glitter falling from it. Twirling around in the air, the cupcake finally landed on the table in front of me.
Flitwick's office was homely. Bookshelves were scattered around the room, and just ahead of me a plump looking sofa. In fact, it barely felt like an office, if not for the desk ahead of me that housed the diminutive professor and the study-like layout of the room. To my left was a curtain, concealing the other half of the room from vision.
"Well, wasn't that entertaining?" he chirped, reaching forwards, and swiped a cupcake from the tiered cake stand.
Snorting, I took a bite out of my own. I felt my shoulders drop and my posture relax at the pleasantly sweet strawberry icing and soft sponge cake hiding just beneath.
I covered my mouth, swallowing the cupcake before complimenting the professor on his baking. "This is really good, sir, honestly."
He chuckled, his chocolate-brown eyes warming at the compliment. "It's a family recipe. I'm glad you approve!"
For a little while, we sat in comfortable warmth, ignoring the elephant in the room in favour of enjoying the confectioneries and exchanging small talk. Sadly, we both knew what the purpose of our meeting was and soon, the cake stand had been encased in a sleek glass cover and I was left with nothing but my cup of tea and the saucer that had accompanied it.
'Pretty fitting for what's happening right now. All the flowery distractions are gone and here we are…'
"Mr Dovahkiin," said the professor, adjusting his spectacles. "As you are, shall I say, wiser than your peers, I will not beat around the proverbial bush with this."
It was then that his eyes took on a stern but understanding edge. "What happened last week that put you in such a state?"
I thumbed the rim of the saucer, taking a few moments to collate my thoughts. In this instance, at least, telling the truth wouldn't harm me at all. Even then, I didn't have to be specific on what I saw. 'You know what they say, better out than in…'
But in this case, was it truly better out than in? It seemed to me that I'd have to find out. I took a breath, steeling myself to take a gamble.
"Professor," I began, my heart thundering in my chest. "A few days ago, I chanced upon a mirror a little before curfew."
The effects of my words were immediate. Flitwick leaned forward, elbows on the table and hands clasped together. His eyes glimmered in curiosity before he opened his mouth. "Oh? Please continue…"
I merely nodded, pausing to swallow. "I was on my way to the common room after studying and that was when I saw it. The mirror was in an old room, one that looked like it hadn't been touched in decades. To be completely honest here, curiosity got the better of me, and I walked in."
The entire time, my eyes were rooted on the deep indigo tablecloth. I hazarded a few glances at the man, relaxing a little when I saw that he looked to be purely curious.
"I looked into the mirror and that's w-when I saw it." despite my best effort not to let my emotions seep into my words, I heard the trembling of my voice and stifled a wince. "I don't know exactly how long I was staring at the mirror for. It was barely past sunset when I was on my way back to the common room and by the time I looked out of the room's window, it was already night."
"I believe I may know what you saw, Mr Dovahkiin," said the professor. His voice was soft, lacking any of the gaiety that it had earlier. "But please, tell me, what things did it show you."
He held up a finger at my protest. "Peace. I should have worded my sentence a tad better. Nothing too specific, and only what you are comfortable with telling me."
I bit my lip. My stare was intense enough to burn a hole through the tablecloth and then some. Eventually, the words came tumbling out of my mouth. "I-It showed me something I could never be. Strong, focused, free from…"
"Free from what, Asim?" asked the professor.
I was so caught up in my reverie that I didn't notice his use of my first name. Either that, or I didn't care. Probably both.
"It showed me free. Free from falling into procrastination." I whispered.
There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on for eternity. I had often read in literature that telling a person one's innermost woes and worries felt like detaching a mountain from your back.
It didn't. Instead, it felt as if I was staring down the barrel of a gun and waiting for the shot that would no doubt be their judgement.
It. Felt. Terrifying. To tell a person about yourself, what drags on the recesses of your heart, and to sit there, waiting for their answer, was an experience that I didn't want to undergo ever again.
"Now, Asim," he started, his voice stern and completely composed. The change was so sudden that I reared upwards, my eyes widened and my breath short. "There is no reason for you to think that you are lazy and unmotivated. The past two months are a testament to your drive."
"But that's just the last two months!" I exclaimed. My grip around the arms of the chair was vice-like. "What about the years of wanting to start something, make something of myself? And then to try and fail, not only once, but repeatedly!"
To some extent, it felt easier to offload this onto him. With my mother, I was always too afraid of feeling like a failure. As if she had raised a defective son; at times I sure felt like I was.
Flitwick stared cooly into my eyes, his own betraying his stern countenance. "It doesn't matter." he said, completely short-circuiting my brain. "You are here, in this school, right now, are you not?"
I nodded back mutely, more taken aback than anything else. Such a simple answer that I'd failed to see.
"Then you can always change," Flitwick said. And for the briefest of moments, I saw the flicker of a smile across his face. "That is what we, your teachers, are here for after all. If you have problems, you come to us. If you just want to talk, you can come to us. Merlin knows I have the cupcakes for it!" He chuckled.
His cheerful voice was like a ray of sunshine, piercing through the stifling atmosphere and loosening it as if it were nothing but a wayward cloud. I dropped down onto the soft chair, not noticing how weak my knees felt until I was slumped against its spine.
"But what if I don't change?" I asked him, noticing now more than ever how young my voice sounded.
I hated it. How it trembled, lilted, and sometimes cracked with every emotion. How I sounded so… lost.
"As I said, Asim, that's what we are here for." he replied.
We sat there in silence as I mulled over his words. I knew that I wouldn't be able to digest this quickly. But for the first time in what seemed to be perpetual to me, I felt okay.
With myself, and how I was currently. And if ever this changed, I knew that the possibility of improvement was just over the horizon.
An untold amount of time later, my eyes snapped upwards, noticing the wave of Flitwick's hand, and hearing the click of the opening door behind me.
"I think," he said, setting his hand atop the aged, brown table. "That you will need to think about this on your own."
I cleared my throat and stood up, noticing how I towered over the professor, and stood there, trying to come up with a way to express my gratitude before settling on something simple.
"Thank you sir, honestly." I said, a smile tugging at my lips. "This is the most… free that I've felt in a long time."
"Not a problem, Asim," he replied, standing up to lead me out of the door. "Just know that my door is always open to you, should you feel in need of my company."
The sides of his eyes crinkled as a result of the beaming smile that had begun to spread across his face. "Or if you would like to eat some more of my cupcakes. I could tell that you enjoyed them."
I turned around with a snicker and walked out of the door. "Will do, sir."
Trailing past the crowds and cutting through closely clustered groups, I made my way down the stairs, my robes billowing and a hearty chuckle escaping my lips.
For the first time since coming to the Wizarding World, I felt well and truly alive.
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