23. Back to School

The compartment fell into a quiet lull as the train chugged steadily along its tracks, the only sound the rhythmic clatter of wheels against rails. In the midst of this silence, Apollyon opened the diary once more, her heart pounding in her chest as she prepared to engage in conversation with the fragment of Voldemort's soul trapped within its pages.

"Hello, Tom," she wrote, her hand trembling slightly as she addressed the dark entity lurking within the diary. "I have questions about magic, about power. Can you help me understand?"

For a moment, there was no response, the ink on the page remaining still and silent. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, the words began to form, the handwriting elegant and precise, tinged with a subtle undercurrent of darkness.

"Of course, Apollyon," the diary replied, its tone smooth and enticing. "I am here to offer guidance, to share my knowledge with those who seek it. What is it that you wish to know?"

Apollyon hesitated, her mind racing with a myriad of questions. How could she tap into the full extent of her magical abilities? What secrets lay hidden within the depths of the magical world? And, perhaps most importantly, how could she navigate the treacherous path ahead without succumbing to the darkness that threatened to consume her?

"I want to understand why certain spells seem more powerful when I channel my emotions into them," she wrote, her words carefully chosen to mask the true depth of her curiosity. "And how I can harness that power without losing control."

The diary's response was swift, its words appearing on the page with a sense of eager anticipation. "Emotions," it wrote, "are a source of power unlike any other. They fuel your magic, giving it strength and vitality. To harness that power, you must learn to embrace your darker emotions, to channel them into your spells with intention and purpose."

Apollyon's heart skipped a beat at the diary's words, a surge of excitement coursing through her veins. Could it be that simple? Could she truly unlock the full extent of her magical abilities by embracing the darker aspects of her psyche?

But even as the temptation beckoned, a voice of caution whispered in the depths of her mind. The diary's influence was subtle, its words laced with a seductive charm that threatened to ensnare her in its web of deceit.

She had been finding herself getting more angry at simpler things, and happier when she used magic in more destructive ways. Ever since she had started with the diary. Deciding to put it away and focus on the coming studies, taking out one of her course books for the second years. And studying properly.

Apollyon's hand trembled slightly as she closed the diary, a shiver running down her spine at the weight of its influence. Despite the tantalizing promises of power, she knew deep down that delving further into its dark secrets would only lead her down a path of darkness and despair.

Taking a deep breath, Apollyon turned her attention to her second-year course book, determined to refocus her mind on her studies. With each page she turned, she immersed herself in the intricacies of magical theory, allowing the familiar rhythm of academia to wash away the lingering tendrils of darkness that had taken root within her.

As she delved deeper into her studies, Apollyon found herself losing track of time, the hours slipping away unnoticed as she poured over her coursework with renewed focus and determination. Gone were the whispers of temptation that had plagued her moments before, replaced instead by the comforting familiarity of academia and the pursuit of knowledge.

It wasn't long before the compartment fell into a peaceful silence, broken only by the soft rustle of parchment and the occasional murmur of conversation from her companions. With each passing moment, Apollyon felt a sense of clarity and purpose wash over her, a renewed determination to resist the darkness that had threatened to consume her.

By the time the train began to slow to a stop, signaling their arrival at Hogsmeade Station, Apollyon had made up her mind. She would keep the diary hidden away, its influence banished from her thoughts as she focused on her studies and the pursuit of knowledge. Whatever secrets it held could wait; for now, her priority was to remain true to herself and the values that had guided her thus far.

As the train slowed to a stop and the students began to gather their belongings, Fred and George glanced over at Apollyon, their expressions a mix of admiration and amusement.

"Blimey, Apollyon," Fred exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "You've been nose-deep in those books for hours! I reckon you should've been sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin."

George nodded in agreement, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, who knew our Slytherin friend had a secret love affair with textbooks?"

Apollyon chuckled softly, a hint of color rising to her cheeks at their playful ribbing. "I just wanted to make sure I'm prepared for the upcoming year," she replied, her voice laced with a touch of self-deprecation. "Besides, knowledge is power, right?"

Fred and George exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions softening with genuine affection. "Fair point, Apollyon," Fred conceded, clapping her on the shoulder. "Just don't forget to have a bit of fun along the way, yeah? Hogwarts isn't all about studying, you know."

Apollyon smiled gratefully at her friends, touched by their concern. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to balance my studies with a healthy dose of mischief," she assured them, her eyes twinkling with mischief of their own.

With a shared laugh, the trio gathered their belongings and made their way off the train, ready to embark on another year of adventure and camaraderie at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

As the train came to a complete halt and the doors slid open, Apollyon, Fred, and George stepped onto the platform, their eyes adjusting to the fading light of dusk. The air was crisp, carrying the anticipation of the new term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Students around them buzzed with excitement, their voices a mingled chorus of laughter and chatter.

As they made their way towards the carriages, Apollyon's gaze was drawn to the front of the line, where the Thestral-drawn carriages awaited. She paused, her heart skipping a beat, as the sight triggered a sudden, vivid memory—a memory from what felt like another lifetime. It was an image of a childhood friend, someone dear to her heart, whose life had been cut tragically short. The memory flashed before her eyes, as clear as day, and with it, the realization dawned on her why she could see the Thestrals, those mysterious, skeletal-winged horses visible only to those who had witnessed death.

Fred and George, noticing her pause, followed her gaze and then looked back at her, their expressions curious. Apollyon offered them a small, somber smile, signaling that she was okay, before she approached the nearest Thestral. Her movements were gentle, respectful, as she reached out to pet the creature's sleek, black coat. The Thestral nuzzled against her hand, its large, pearl-like eyes gazing at her with an understanding that seemed to transcend words.

In that moment, surrounded by the noise and bustle of students eager to start the term, Apollyon found a quiet sense of connection and peace. She was reminded of the thin veil that separated life from death, the seen from the unseen, and how experiences of loss could unveil worlds previously hidden from view.

Turning back to her friends, Apollyon's eyes shone with a newfound resolve. "Let's go," she said, her voice steady. "We've got a year full of learning and mischief ahead of us. And I wouldn't want to miss a second of it."

Fred and George, sensing the depth of her moment, exchanged a glance and then smiled at her, their earlier teasing replaced with admiration. Together, the trio stepped into the carriage, the Thestral leading them forward into the twilight, towards the towering silhouette of Hogwarts castle, a place of magic, mystery, and endless possibility.

The Great Hall of Hogwarts was ablaze with the warm glow of thousands of candles, floating serenely above the four long house tables, casting dancing shadows across the eager faces of students gathered for the Sorting Ceremony. Apollyon sat at the Slytherin table, her gaze sweeping across the hall, absorbing the electric atmosphere of anticipation and excitement that filled the air.

The start of her second year brought a different perspective; she was no longer the anxious first-year, overwhelmed by the grandeur of Hogwarts and the significance of the Sorting Hat's decision. Instead, she watched with a knowing eye, remembering her own experience under the Hat, the weight of it on her head, the whisper of voices inside her mind, debating where she belonged.

As Professor McGonagall began to call out names, Apollyon found herself oddly nervous for the new students. She remembered the feeling of vulnerability, of standing in front of the entire school, your future about to be decided. She watched as one by one, the first-years approached the stool, the Sorting Hat placed upon their heads, and their fates announced to the hall.

Each time "Slytherin!" was shouted, Apollyon joined her housemates in applause, welcoming the new additions to their table. She observed the mixture of relief and pride on the faces of the newly sorted Slytherins as they made their way towards her. She remembered the warmth that had spread through her when she was welcomed, the feeling of belonging that had washed over her despite the house's daunting reputation.

From her vantage point, she could see the subtle interactions—the shared glances among friends hoping to stay together, the stiff shoulders relaxing as names were called, the brief moments of disappointment or surprise quickly masked. She felt a kinship with these new students, understanding the mix of emotions that swirled within them.

When the ceremony was over, and the Sorting Hat was safely tucked away for another year, the feast began. The tables magically filled with an assortment of dishes, the chatter and laughter crescendoing into a joyful din. Yet, amidst the celebration, Apollyon found herself contemplating the journey these new students were embarking on.

As the feast continued, Apollyon found herself inadvertently catching snippets of conversation from a few seats down, where Draco Malfoy held court among his Slytherin peers. His voice, laced with the usual blend of arrogance and disdain, rose above the surrounding din as he regaled his audience with tales of his father's influence and power over the holidays.

"...and Father made sure the Ministry knew exactly where they stood on the matter," Draco boasted, his chest puffing out with pride. "The Malfoys have a legacy to uphold, unlike some families I could mention."

The sneer in his voice was unmistakable, and it wasn't long before his pale, sneering gaze found Apollyon, an implicit challenge in his eyes. "Spending your holidays with the Weasleys, Apollyon? Really, I would've thought you had higher standards than to associate with such... company."

His words, intended to wound, seemed to ripple through the nearby listeners, a mixture of smirks and curious glances thrown in Apollyon's direction. The air thickened with anticipation, as if the Slytherin table itself held its breath, waiting for her response.

Apollyon, however, remained unfazed. She met Draco's gaze squarely, her expression one of amused indifference. "Actually, Draco, I found the company quite refreshing," she replied, her tone even and devoid of malice. "It's nice to spend time with people who value friendship and loyalty over the size of their Gringotts vault. But then, I suppose not everyone understands the concept."

A few stifled laughs and surprised looks emerged from those around them, not used to seeing Draco so deftly parried. Apollyon's response wasn't just a defense of her holiday choices but a subtle critique of the values Draco flaunted so proudly.

Draco's face momentarily tightened, a flicker of annoyance passing through his eyes before he regained his composure, his sneer returning. "Well, I suppose even Slytherins can be mistaken in their choices. Just remember, Apollyon, not all associations are beneficial. Some can be downright... tarnishing."

Draco, sensing that his previous attempt to belittle Apollyon hadn't had the intended effect and still smarting from her retort, quickly recalibrated his attack with a venomous edge that was all too common in his confrontations. His sneer widened, his voice dripping with contempt as he sought to hit her where he believed it would hurt the most.

"Well, Apollyon, I suppose when one comes from... shall we say, less than illustrious beginnings, the standards for 'refreshing company' are understandably low," Draco remarked, his eyes glinting maliciously. "After all, what would a muggle-raised orphan really know about the wizarding world's finer distinctions? Associating with blood traitors and muggles, you're practically a poster child for diluting the purity of our kind."

His words, sharper and more personal this time, hung heavily in the air, designed to ostracize and wound. It was a low blow, even for Draco, targeting Apollyon's heritage and her upbringing in a muggle orphanage before she discovered her magical lineage. He was banking on the age-old prejudices that still lingered in some parts of the wizarding world, aiming to isolate her in front of her peers.

The surrounding crowd fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of Draco's words settling like a pall over the table. Some of the Slytherins looked uncomfortable, perhaps not willing to endorse Draco's crueler jibes, while others seemed to wait eagerly for Apollyon's response, curious to see how she would handle such a direct attack on her background.

Apollyon, for a brief moment, allowed the full force of Draco's words to wash over her. Then, lifting her chin, she met his gaze with an unflinching stare, her expression composed, betraying none of the hurt his words were intended to inflict.

"Draco," she began, her voice steady and clear, "my beginnings might not be 'illustrious' by your standards, but I've never seen my background as anything but a strength. It's taught me to judge people by their actions and their character, not by some archaic notion of blood purity."

She paused, looking around at the other students who were watching the exchange closely. "You might find this hard to believe, but the wizarding world I was so excited to join is one where talent, bravery, and kindness matter more than the circumstances of one's birth. If being open to friendship with anyone, regardless of their blood status, makes me a 'poster child' for anything, then I'll wear that title with pride."

She usually didn't go against Draco, sitting in silence at his remarks then voicing all her thoughts. However it felt right, she felt good putting him down a peg.