Dark Shines

Dark Shines: A Thousand Words For Fate(Part One)

She turned over on the small bed, her blanket twisting asshe dreamt.

Spells, potions, fate, imprecisionÂ… The words were burning into her brain, her subconscious trying to alert her to something that should have been crystal yet came across muddied. Words, creation, evil, and fateÂ…The blanket fell to the floor, victim of flailing legs.

Listen to meÂ…the Potter boyÂ…PotterÂ…Harry PotterÂ…

She woke with a start, gasping for air as her mind tried to make sense of the imagery, blood thumping in her ears. Sitting up, she reached for the water jug on the bedside table and poured a glass, downing it in one clean swig. Harry PotterÂ…she knew him, of course. Any member of the wizard and witch community worth their wand followed his career, however short and seemingly unchallenged it was so far.

But rarely her sleep was challenged, like this. Her work, to be fair,often-created conflicts in her usually trouble less mind and challenged theveneer of her seemingly unperturbed personality. Dealing with the Dark Side wasnot a fun challenge at the best of times, but she usually got over the emotionsas soon as they came, putting them down to her version of occupational hazards.

Harry Potter, she mused. Lightening bolt scar, escaped Voldemort’s attack onhis parents, widely regarded as ‘the Boy Who Lived’, now in his sixth yearat Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Interesting, to say the least.Trouble followed him like a puppy dog and he and his friends were often found atthe root of many of Hogwart’s recent events. He’d never entered her dreamslike that before, however, and she was troubled to say the least.

Bracing herself, she pulled her legs under her and crossed them. The lotusposition, Muggles called it. Comfortable, witches called it. She began tobreathe deeply, shutting her eyes and regulating her breathing until her mindlapsed into the clear state sheÂ’d come to know and appreciate. Guidance wasrequired, and she knew of only one place to receive it.

There were no buts about it. Her bags would have be packed, her travelarrangements made. Tomorrow, she was off to Hogwarts.

“You’re a wanker, Potter. Did you know that?”

It wasn’t even the first day of school, Hermione Granger sighed, and they wereat each other’s throats. At a loss of what to do, Ron Weasley glanced at her,his throat wobbling with each worried gulp as he watched the scene in front ofthem. Draco Malfoy, who had his wand firmly drawn and pointed at HarryPotter’s head, was holding him solidly against one of Platform 9 ¾’s brickwalls and by the looks of things, the situation wasn’t going to be solvedanytime soon.

“What is that saying, Malfoy? Takes one to know one?” He smirked asDraco’s eyes narrowed, his expression unwavering as Draco grabbed his collarroughly.

“It’s always good to start the year on a good note, and I think kicking yourass will have me simply bounding with joy, Potter.” Raising his wand hand,Draco began muttering an incantation under his breath, not seeing Hermionecoming at him from the side.

“Thank you!” She chirped, plucking his wand from his up stretchedhand and enveloping it her green robes.

“What…” His expression turned from fury to mild amusement. “Granger.Girl Wonder to the rescue.”

“Why don’t you give it up, Malfoy? Seriously, one would think you were justdying to get back here so you could make an excuse to get shat she’d appointed herself.

The sun was setting as the first students spilled onto the Hogwarts platform,excitement and uncertainty radiating from the first years as they navigatedthemselves towards the bellowing Hagrid.

“First years ov’r ‘ere!” Harry smiled as he heard the familiar voice andspotted Hagrid almost immediately. “You right, ‘Arry?” They exchanged awave, but he didn’t attempt to navigate through the throng of first years justyet. His reunion with the half-giant would have to wait, Harry decided, as hemoved to where Ron and a sullen Hermione were sitting on the station bench.

“She still all…?” whispered Harry. Ron rolled his eyes.

“Hasn’t said a word. She’s radiated general dislike for all, but remains asilent tomb. Ow!” Ron grabbed his arm where Hermione hit him. “What was thatfor?”

She scowled. “I’m not deaf, stupid. You’re sitting less than thirtycentimetres away from me. And just for the record, I’m not in a bad mood so Iwould really appreciate it if you refrained from saying so.” With that, shegot up and started pacing.

Harry furrowed his brow. “Hermione – seriously, what’s up?” She sighedand stopped pacing. “There’s something wrong, before you say anything. I cantell.”

“I spent the summer with Krum,” she said bluntly. The boys exchanged a look.

“So?” It was Ron who stated the obvious. “We knew that,” finished Harry.A funny look crossed her face, as if she was fighting an inward battle. Hermionewas hard to read at the best of times, Harry knew, but since they had met up inDiagon Alley a week ago he’d sensed something different about her.

Putting it bluntly, she looked different. Her once mousy hair had grown a coupleof inches, and was streaked with golden blonde from the sun. Her trip withViktor Krum to the Alps over the holidays had given her a healthy tan to matchher hair, and she’d grown at least three inches. She had a new wardrobe too,Harry had noticed, and a new confident air about her, despite the perpetualfunk. When they asked about her trip, all they had gotten was a “fine” andeach had heard from her a grand total of two times over the break. Hermione hadgrown up, he noted. And despite her aloofness, he couldn’t help but like it.

Ron’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Hermione, come on.” The battleinside of her seemed to wage on as she looked at Ron, her bottom lip red fromwhere she’d been biting it. Finally, she sat down next to him and Harry again.

“I’m fine,” she smiled softly. “Just nervous to be back at school andstuff, I guess. Well,” Hermione said as she stood up. “We’d better get amove on if we’re to get to the Hall in time!” Harry and Ron again exchangeda look – it looked as though they would have to wait a while longer to findout the real reason behind her mood.

The three of them started towards the end of the platform, and promptly stoppedagain as Ron smacked Harry hard in the chest. Standing in front of them was awoman they’d never seen before, intently studying the grounds guide ofHogwarts written by Hagrid. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-six, hercreaseless face clean and pale in the late afternoon light. The cream skirt suitshe wore was smart and clean, cut in a style more at home in the nineteenforties, with a brown stole wrapped around her shoulders, but little more toprotect her from the cold. Her hair was a silver blonde, reminiscent of FleurDelacour’s, with a pillbox hat positioned fashionably over an elaborate bunthat seemed to be – and probably was – magically staying neat with not ahairpin or bobby pin in sight.

At her feet was a small matching overnight bag, stamped in gold with theinitials ‘AM’, and a cage containing a rather scruffy brown owl who lookedmore interested in sleeping than eating the slices of pumpkin that were in thebottom of its cage. Her face was furrowed in concentration as she studied theguide, occasionally looking around as if to get her bearings.

“Who’s she?” Hermione whispered. They shrugged. “Maybe we should helpher?” Ron’s face dropped quickly as Hermione started forward.

He grabbed her arm. “Hermione! What if she’s…you know…” She tilted herhead slightly and looked at him.

“She’s what? Evil? Working for You-Know-Who?” He nodded feverishly. Sherolled her eyes. “Puh-lease, Ron. The woman’s obviously lost. You too canstand here and gawk at her like she’s a piece of meat, but I’m going to seeif she needs help.” With that, she walked towards the woman. She didn’tnotice Hermione approaching, until she tapped her gently on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, miss…” The woman turned around and Hermione felt like thebreath had been sucked out of her. Blue eyes, such pure, unsoiled cerulean eyesthat seemed to look straight into Hermione’s soul, looked curiously back ather. She radiated such an air of grace and elegance mixed with old worldlinessand incomparable wisdom that it was easy to ascertain that she was no ordinarywitch. There was something familiar, almost too familiar about her Hermionethought irrationally. Her extraordinary eyes seemed to hold a bevy of secrets yetremained completely open at the same time.

“Hello.” Her voice wasn’t expected either. It wasn’t breathy or thick,nor thin or booming. It was seemingly accent-less and totally feminine, tingedwith humour. “Are you my welcoming committee?” A small smile turned up theedges of her lips as she looked fondly at Hermione, who visibly straightenedherself up.

“I’m Hermione –“ “Hermione Granger, I know.” The woman smiled moreand folded up the map before slipping it inside her jacket. “It’s apleasure, Miss Granger,” she said, taking Hermione’s hand in hers. “I haveheard a lot about you and your friends.” She looked past the younger girl’shead, to Ron and Harry who were now flanking Hermione and were – to her greatrelief – as taken in by this woman’s outward persona as she was. In fact, bythe way they were idiotically stuttering and staring at her with their mouthsopen, Hermione gathered they were more impressed with the woman’s beauty thananything, allowing her to come to the conclusion that she must be veela, or atleast part.

“This is Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, the incredible disorderly duo. I’msure they’d shake your hand if they still had most of their motor functionsworking.” The woman smiled and laughed a little.

“Charmed I’m sure.” Harry managed to rouse himself long enough to nod alittle, before falling back into a monosyllabic daze, causing a small sound ofdisgust from Hermione. “Boys,” the woman whispered to Hermione. “They’reuseless sometimes.”

“Are you wanting some help?” Hermione finally asked. “You looked a littlelost is all and…” The woman sprung into action and plucked out the map fromthe folds of her jacket, talking so fast Hermione found it hard to keep up.

“I need to get onto the Hogwarts grounds, but I’m afraid it’s been a longwhile since I’ve been here. Do you think you could perhaps help me? I don’twant to contact Professor Dumbledore, he’d be too busy tending to the SortingHat ceremony and the feast and all that…” Suspicious, Hermione crossed herarms and regarded the woman with a wary eye.

“Can I ask your business at Hogwarts?” she said coolly.

“Oh! Lordie, I didn’t tell you my name?” She slapped her forehead comically and laughed again, before taking Hermione’s hand and shaking it. “I’m Ashla Morgan,” she smiled. “I’m the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”