Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Facing It Alone ❯ Three ( Chapter 3 )

Her Ravenclaw dormitory was not too different from her room back at Maiestas. It was larger, with only four girls in it, instead of six. Misha relished the room. She found her trunk at the end of the bed farthest from the door. Looking around at the empty room first, Misha flicked the lid open. A small cat jumped out, looking indignant.

“Oh, Isaak, I know. I'm sorry.” Misha said, scooping up the animal. He was a brown tabby cat, with large white patches on his left side. He mewed impatiently, eager to look around his new home. “Don't be like that,” Misha scolded mildly. “You know it was for your own good.”

She set the cat down and went back to her trunk. She pulled out a pile of newspapers, laying them out on her bed. Checking the dates of each issue, she put the papers in order. The first was over a year old, with the fifth and last one being only a couple days old. They were a mixture of Muggle newspapers and Wizard newspapers. The Spencer Chronicles, with its black and white photographs featured a pile of rubble, with the headline “Mysterious Explosion Destroys Private School.”

Misha sighed. Why was she even looking at these damn things? Why had she even brought them? All they did was depress her. Hearing footsteps, she shooed Isaak under her bed, and threw the newspapers back into the trunk, snapping the lid shut as a gaggle of girls arrived. They stopped upon seeing her.

“Oh.” One girl said. “You that transfer?” she asked. Misha nodded. The girls shrugged and went back to their conversation, ignoring Misha completely, which suited her fine. She barely listened as she got ready for bed. She was exhausted; her day had been a rollercoaster. All she wanted to do was sleep.

She pulled the curtain around her bed closed and climbed under her covers. Quickly she fell into a dreamless sleep, the weight of her world slipping off her shoulders.

Across the school, three students sat in the Gryffindor common room, watching their housemates drift off to their dormitories. They sat around the fireplace, quietly waiting until they were alone. As the last pair of feet padded up the stairs, Hermione launched a question at Harry.

“Well?” she demanded, her voice a fierce hiss. Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“What?” he asked.

“What has you so spooked? You came in here looking like you'd seen a ghost!” Hermione said she looked at Ron, who agreed readily. Harry was unsure that Ron actually agreed, and was more focused on pleasing Hermione.

“Nothing.” Harry responded. “Just George and Fred, and their stupid jokes.” Ron accepted this readily, he had spent his life as the target of Fred and George's pranks. Hermione, however, was not so accepting.

“Is this to do with that new girl from America?” she asked, her voice coaxing.

“What about her?” Harry said, his voice sounding casual. Inside, his heart was beating fast. He knew that Hermione would latch onto any information he gave her, and not rest until she found the truth.

“Well, I picked up a copy of Memoirs of Maiestas, and I've been looking through it.” Hermione began, only to be interrupted.

“When did you have time to do that?” Ron demanded. Hermione shrugged.

“I asked McGonagall if she had a copy. She summoned it from her office and told me not to damage it. Easy.” Ron looked at her, open-mouthed. Hermione frowned. “It's perfectly logical to think that all the teachers who will come in contact with Misha will read the book. It's quite fascinating, really, but I've only read the first chapter.”

She pointed to a picture just inside the book. It was of a castle, not unlike Hogwarts. It was fatter and shorter that Hogwarts, with many out buildings and a dense forest protecting it's back. “That's Maiestas.” Hermione told him. Harry rolled his eyes. He could've guessed that. “It says it was built in 1436, before there were any Muggle settlers at all! Wizards from all over the world went to the New World, built the school, and then left, leaving it dormant for near 300 years. Then, in 1721, a man named Benald McBride opened it up again, he died soon after. The students were brought in from around the New World, even the Native wizards were brought in, which was unusual, at the time.”

Harry said nothing, then Ron blurted out. “Hermione, that's great, but what's it have to do with Misha?”

“Absolutely nothing. But this is all about the place she came from. We can learn a lot about her from this.”

“Yea, but why?” Ron asked again.

“Well…it's just important.” Hermione sniffed pointedly. “I've just got a feeling about this girl.”

“A bad feeling?” Harry asked, feeling apprehensive.

Hermione shook her head. “Just a feeling.”

Harry said nothing in response. “Can I borrow that?” he asked instead, pointing at the book. Hermione giggled in a way most unlike her.

“If you're going to try to impress her with your knowledge, Harry, try to talk to her about Hogwarts. You've got a way better chance of not saying something silly.” Harry frowned at her.

“That's not what I was planning,” he said grumpily. Ron chortled.

“Yea, sure.”

Harry sulked quietly while Hermione and Ron continued the conversation. He spaced out, not participating. He thought of the next day. Classes would begin tomorrow, as usual. Fifth year was important. OWL year, it was second only to the NEWT year. Hermione had already made a chart of ways she would study. Harry was just hoping to pass. He wondered if Gryffindor would have to take any classes with the Slytherins. Or maybe, the Ravenclaws?

He didn't notice when Ron and Hermione stopped talking to look strangely at him. “Harry!”

Harry's head jerked up. “What?”

“It's near midnight. Hermione's going to bed. I am too. Are you coming?” Ron spoke slowly, as if Harry were a damaged child.

“Yea.” Harry responded, grabbing Hermione's book and following Ron up the stair.

i

Sleep did not come easily. After an hour of tossing, Harry pulled out his wand and whispered “Lumos!” The space around him lit up instantly and he groped at his bedside table for his glasses. He shoved them onto his face, before retrieving Hermione's book. He flipped the front cover open, where Professor McGonagall had neatly penned her name. He scanned the table of contents, looking for something interesting.

`Modern Maiestas……….34'. That looked appealing. Harry flipped to the page and scanned it.

`In modern times, Maiestas has been subject of much bad press, mostly for the subjects being taught. A heavy emphasis on magics with dark undertones. America's most notable Dark Wizards credit their `successes' to the things that they learned at school.'

Harry frowned. Misha came from a school known for its dark magic? Was it like an American Durmstrang? He looked back down to the book.

`The school was not always this way. Founded in 1400s by three prominent wizards, Maiestas was a beacon of hope for wizards looking for a new life in the later centuries. The first official Headmaster, AndreiDalca, was a prominent Romanian wizarding official before his surprising emigration. After this, he worked tirelessly to make Maiestas the only choice for wizards in North America. This squashed the several small schools that had started to form, with questionable intentions. To this day, Maiestas is the only choice for American wizards. They are permitted to attend schools abroad, but must fill out an expensive application.'

Harry snapped the book shut. If Misha had been so eager to come to Hogwarts, why hadn't she applied when she was first informed of her status as a witch? There was no reason for her to transfer now, truly, it was absurd. Harry sighed, putting the book down. He had no idea why he was dwelling on this girl. He already had his eyes set on somebody. He thought of Cho, but with that came the guilty pain he associated with Cedric. He truly wished that he could like Cho without feeling horrible about Cedric.

He threw his glasses back onto his bedside table and put his wand away. He pulled his covers over his head and shut his eyes, willing himself to sleep. He finally relaxed, letting himself fall into a dream filled sleep.

A flash of green light, this dream was going to turn out like the others. He was going to be forced to listen to his parents die, again and again.

“You think I don't know?” A new voice, one he didn't recognize, with a heavy accent. It was male, and very deep. Harry felt the first stirring of curiosity in his subconscious. This was not the ways his dreams ever went.

“I didn't mean it…I swear…I swear…” a soft voice sobbed, also speaking with a strange accent.

“You killed him! You killed my boy! Meddlesome bitch! I'll kill you! I'll kill you for what you did!” the man yelled.

Another flash of green light, and a scream from the girl.

“You can't dodge me forever!” the man whispered. Harry felt as if his was standing right next to the man, but a heavy black curtain separated them. He could see nothing; only hear the fearful snuffling of the girl. He wanted to help her, but couldn't push through the curtain.

“Come out, come out, my pretty little bitch!” The man laughed, his voice taking on a manic edge. The girl's snuffling stopped. Everything was silent. “Ah…there you are. Now be a good girl and let me kill you properly…”

He paused, taking a breath.

“Ava-”

“You want death?” the girl cried, startling the man. Her voice had also changed, taking on a clearer, more piercing tone. “I'll give you death!”

An incantation was screamed, something vaguely Latin, causing an explosion. Harry felt the ground rock, and the curtain separating him from his dream dissolved. He was in a large room, not unlike the Great Hall, but it was completely deserted. He was watching columns topple and the ceiling fall in. He could see the girl, she was half buried. He jogged over to her, seeing only her dark hair, it covered her face.

He tried to touch her, but his hands passed right through her. He cried out, trying to wake the girl, she would die if this building fell down around her. Suddenly, a whooshing noise made Harry look up. He recognized the sound. Broomsticks.

Wizards flew in the door to this foreign looking great hall, yelling instructions in a language Harry didn't understand. They were clearly searching for something, Harry assumed it was the girl. Harry watched as one wizard cried in triumph, dodging a falling brick. He pointed at the girl before flying down to her. The four other men followed him, pulling the debris way from their target. One man scooped up the girl, before getting back on his broomstick and leading the way out of the disintegrating building. As he flew, the girl's hair was blown away from her face, and Harry caught a glimpse of her high cheekbones and dark lips.

Misha.