home (reader at hogwarts)

seventy one

as you, ron and harry sit huddled under a willow tree, sagging with snow, harry tells you about how the encounter with dumbledore went the night he was caught out of bed- revisiting the mirror alone.

that night, you had been with your father and minerva as she had prepared trifle for the three of you. albus had been invited, but he didn't show. now you know where he had been.

dumbledore has convinced harry not to go looking for the mirror of erised again and for the rest of the christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stays folded at the bottom of his trunk. harry wishes he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror that night he had spent sneaking around after hours with you, but he can't.

he's begun to have nightmares.

over and over again he dreams about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light while a high voice cackles with laughter.

'you see, dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad,' says ron, leaning forward to see harry past your hair. you rest your head onto the trunk of the tree behind you, well aware of the snow trickling onto your head.

the cold didn't matter much when you were these two. it was always nice to be with them, but you missed hermione throughout the holiday.

the three of you are glad to see hermione return the day before the start of term.

that is, until she starts yelling at you all.

she is torn between horror at the idea of harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row, and pure dissapointment that the three of you still hadn't found out who nicholas flamel was.

you already know, of course, but telling them didn't feel like the right move to make. they'll find him soon.

the golden trio have almost given up hope of ever finding out who he is, although harry continues to insist that he's read the name somewhere. once term restarts, you are all back to skimming books for ten minutes, with harry and you doing less time than ron and hermione.

this is due to the fact that quidditch practice has begun again and you keep having to switch between being with the gryffindors and being with the slytherins.

it's getting increasingly hard to keep up with the lies.

one night, you and the other first years hang out in the slytherin common room. you sit next to serena as daphne perches on the arm of sofa her knees brushing your ribs, braiding hair around the crown of your head.

eyes of silvery grey bear into you as draco speaks to you for the first time in a while.

"are you playing then?" he asks. "the quidditch match is just days away."

"i've not been put on the team or given any training yet." you reply, noticing how red his nose has been lately. "are you ill, draco?"

"no, of course not." he sniffs. "it's just that the wind is so cold it irritates my nose. we usually put up a charm up on our grounds when it gets this cold, so i'm not used to how harsh it is."

you scoff. "welcome to normality."

"speaking of ill, how's astoria?" he asks daphne. she rolls her eyes.

"she's fine, i'm sure. and if she's not, i really don't care. i couldn't go home because of her."

"why? what's wrong with her?" asks vincent. he offers you and daphne toffee as you glance down at him. she refuses one, but you take yours.

"she's got the plague!" theo tells him, grabbing him by the neck.

"leave him, nott." blaise laughs, "astoria caught the pox in aruba."

"oh."

"poor girl." serena taps your foot with her own. you turn to look at her but wince almost immediately at daphne hits you on the head.

"don't move." she whines and you apologise profusely before moving anyway. she tuts and adjusts herself to reach the longer tufts of hair at the back of your head.

"where were you at break?" serena asks you, fiddling with the end of her scarf. you notice that she wraps it differently in the common room in the evening hours.

you find watching her wrap it so fascinating.

she lays it over her head, makes sure it covers all her hair, pins it behind her neck and lets the material fall down her back. she never wears her silk green one when she's not in uniform.

today her scarf is tan and made of a soft, stretchy material.

"i was in my father's chambers." you say.

"i thought i saw you in the library, we were both getting books from the back shelves."

you stop. you had seen blaise in the library. how could you forget?

- and surely blaise had returned to serena at break, so he will have most certainly told her that he saw you there, so why had serena felt the need to ask?

you glance between them.

to see if you would lie.

"yeah, of course. i went to his chambers because i thought he had his own copy of elvira's illustrated guide to elixers, but he didn't so i had to go look for it in the library."

"in the back shelves?" he presses.

"it wasn't in e, so i wondered if someone had recently checked it back in and if it was still on the back shelves."

you suddenly felt very cornered.

"alright then." he shrugs, leaning back. "serena, didn't you say you could braid hair? could you do mine please?"

"i said i would try." she giggles. "i'll probably mess up on the first go."

"nonsense." daphne rolls her eyes. "braiding hair is simple. look y/n."

she holds out a compact mirror for you, and you glance at your reflection.

she's not wrong. doing your hair must have been simple to her. daphne has pulled two braids from either side of your head to wrap around the crown of it, and meet at the back. then she pulls hair from just above your nape and joins it with the braids to make one long one.

"you look so pretty." says gregory. draco nudges him hard in the stomach. ("what?")

"daphne, what the hell." theo pulls at his own hair. "do mine next."

"wash your hair, then maybe i'll come a few metres closer." she laughs, throwing her hairbrush at him.

you stare down at the compact, turning it over in your hands. the sigil engraved into the back of daphne's house, the greengrasses, is that of a large fern, with a snake slithering between its leaves. it's bejewelled with tiny pearls and jade, cut sharp enough to nip you if you handle it roughly enough.

the reflection that stares back at you as you gaze at it amidst the commotion around you is by all means a pretty one.

your eyes, however, portray a feeling you're sure serena, blaise, harry, ron and hermione all see in you.

heavy,

soul-crushing,

guilt.