Secrets of an 8th year witch

Chapter 2: Meet the gang!

The next few days passed in a blur; unpacking in Catherine's immaculate ("And make sure it stays that way!") apartment, and passing out on the pull out couch in the living room. 

Today she would be meeting their fellow crew of the local theatre, and to say she was nervous was an understatement. She had confronted Emma about her worries the night before, and the brown haired girl had done her best to reassure her. "It'll be fine! I've known every one of them since I was 12. One of them is a black belt in 6 different types of martial arts, one of them is really good at paintball, and one of them has green hair! You'll like them, they're all cool beans." She had smiled at the Wonder reference, but her worries still did not vanish.

And yet another nagging thought poked at the back of her mind. "Catherine?" She asked. The implied girl twisted in her hot pink swivel chair to face Hermione, who laid on her back with her hair streaming down the front of the bed. "Yeah?" She bit her lip. "Are they wizards?" Catherine quieted. After a few agonizing moments, she said, "Yeah. The whole lot of them. I think a few of the town folk are suspicious, but they can't prove anything. Others just seem to think we have raw talent. It's nothing you should worry about. " Hermione sat up, the weight on her stomach disappearing with the thought that she wouldn't have to hid her wand for a whole summer. "Hey, are you ready? We're leaving in half an hour." She yelped in surprise and ran out of the room cursing, Catherine laughing behind her.

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It was Hermione's turn to drive, since Emma didn't have a license yet. She parked the car and handed to keys to Catherine, who pocketed it as Emma leapt out of the car and bolted for the trees. Central Park. The natural heart of New York City. It was glorious. "Come on," Catherine gestured. "They're all here already." 

They trotted past picturesque lakes and patches of vibrant flowers as they made their way to the picnic benches. Around them were a number of people clumped around in various spots, one of which containing a group of 4 rowdy boys who were goofing off.

Her attention wavered, however, when she heard the soft beginnings of a french lullaby. She traced the lyrics to a girl around her age sitting underneath a large oak, accompanied by a willowy brunette. Her voice seemed to be carried through the wind, soft and graceful to match the branches waving around them. Even the chattering of the woodland creatures seemed to quiet. To listen.

"Lyra!" The music stopped abruptly as Emma hurtled from the bushes and threw her arms around the singing girl with such gusto that the girl fell over, laughing. Catherine, who had stationed herself beside Hermione, rolled her eyes at her sister's actions and headed towards them. 

The girl, on closer inspection, was gorgeous. She had silky platinum blond hair that was neither straight nor curly, and it fell in gentle waves around her shoulders. Her eyes were not grey but a shining silver, lined with thick lashes. Her small frame was covered with a simple square cut top and a pair of jeans. Casual, like she tried to downplay her beauty. And failing miserably. 

"Catherine," She greeted, looking up from Emma who lay mockingly limp on the grass, her body quivering with muffled laughter. Lyra's eyes flickered to her. Catherine started. "Lyra, this is-" "Hermione Granger," Lyra interrupted, giving Catherine an apologetic look. "I know who you are," She said, addressing her next words to Hermione. She gave a soft smile. "You were all over the tabloids at the start of the summer. Even now, Witch Weekly keeps ranting about you. I hear Rita Skeeter wants an interview about your relationship status with Ronald Weasley."

On instinct her nose scrunched up, to Emma's amusement, who had at that point given up her attempts to keep quiet. She hated Rita Skeeter, for her shallow, wriggling personality and the fact that she was always on the lookout for new stories, twisting words and rumours to her liking. She had been a nightmare when Harry was in the Triwizard tournament, and that year Hermione had found ever more the reason to hate her.

The mention of Ron also seemed to fuel that never dying fire of worry that kept her up at night. They had never really spoken since that moment at the Battle of Hogwarts, and for all she knew, he could be running around with a random girl and she wouldn't know. Which, truthfully, she had mixed feelings about, and she decided to stuff the thought deep into the back of her mind.

The group of boys had came over, the shortest of which bending down and settling beside Elisé, who was the brunette that Lyra seemed to be so fond off. The girl's cheeks reddened, and hid behind her brown locks as she leaned onto his shoulder. They're together then, Hermione noted. 

"Hey, a newbie!" She turned her head to the stocky boy who had spoken , who, for unknown reasons, cradled a chestnut coloured squirrel in his large palm. Lyra stood from the ground and turned. 

"Everyone, this is Hermione- Cathy and Emma's cousin, from London." Hermione blinked. Suddenly feeling shy, she offered a small wave. "Hermione Granger?" A tall girl with her green hair cut into a crisp bob lounged on the dirt, braiding blades of grass together. She didn't lift her eyes as she asked the question, and Hermione silently noted that she had found Emma's green haired idol. Hermione gave a feeble grin. "That's me." A moment of silence. Lyra flashed her a reassuring smile, tucking a strand of windblown hair behind her ear. 

"So... this year our major production is Hamilton. I think we'll start practices this Friday- Yes Emma, I'll post the schedules and Cast lists on a group Chat I'll make..." And so it begins, Hermione thinks. Lyra's face was bright as she explained what would happen throughout the course of the month, her voice strengthening as she continued to speak. All eyes were on her as she asked around for numbers and emails. Her phone chimed, and a list of names and jobs titled Cast List stared back at her.

She skimmed through the names, finding hers beside stage prop design. She let out her breath in a relieved sigh. Thank god she didn't have to sing. 

"Hey, how come I'm Hamilton? Is it 'cause I'm short?" She looked down at the boy sitting next to Elisé. He had a mess of auburn hair that was just a shade lighter than the Weasley's vibrant red, and a troublemaker's smirk that teacher's usually gave one look at and sent him way, way to the back of the classroom. 

Elisé reassured him that  he was not, in fact, short, though Hermione silently thought that was because she was even shorter than he. "Not that I'm complaining," He says, obviously complaining. Lyra frowned. "I didn't actually make the cast lists," She said. "Madam Renée did." Who? Her eyes glittered. "If you have a problem, McCarthy, you can ask her." The boy grinned. "Back to last names, Malfoy?"

Malfoy. Malfoy? Malfoy?!