(October 31st, 1991, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland)
I had taken to wearing the glasses as part of my regular fashion, they added a lot of character to my usual outfits. I had even received questions about why I didn't wear them at the start of term, to which I used some fake excuse about how I found needing to use glasses to be embarrassing. They bought it, except Gabby, she had somehow come to the conclusion that I was some sort of hyper-competent ninja pretending to be an eleven year old child, which was closer to the truth than she thought it was. All of that is to say, when I woke up on the morning after my birthday, on the day of Samhain, I put on glasses before I snuck out of the dorm so I could do my morning callisthenics.
I, being the thing that I was, technically didn't need to ever exercise, but I did it anyways. It was fun, humanising, and was just… something to do. I would've loved to spend more time studying or something, but at a certain point that just gets boring. I nearly instantly grasped most concepts we were taught, and I literally didn't even have to try in order to remember any facts that were so much as mentioned in my presence. I had considered dumbing myself down in some manner, but such a thing was just the worst. I was already as small as I was willing to get, anything less and I was sure that I would slowly lose my mind until I mentally imploded, leaving nothing but a complete fucking psychopath will all my memories and none of my restraint.
Considering that such a thing might actually be a threat to the whole bloody planet, it was not the sort of risk I was willing to take. Ever.
‘Wow, I am abnormally gloomy this morning. Must be the looming spectres on this most spirited day… or it’s the fact that nobody even knew it was my birthday yesterday. Who knows?’ I thought to myself. Obviously I knew that it was the latter.
Despite the initial approval for turning that essay writing group into a study group, much of the group found that the activities performed by an actual study group deviated significantly from the expectations set during the essay writing session. Hence, most of the group had decided not to join the newly created unofficial club. It was… disappointing to say the least, but I would live. Wasn't the end of the world. It was fine. Just dandy, really. ‘Fine and dandy, mm-hmm,’ I thought in the middle of my one armed handstand pushups.
‘You're clearly in denial. Stop it, get some help.’ Watcher helpfully supplied in her ever chipper tone.
Yeah, okay fine, I wasn't happy about it—
‘Nope. That's still denial.’ she butted in.
‘( ⇀‸↼)?’
‘Double denial,’ she sent. But that didn't make any sense I wasn't denyi—
—Ohhh… okay, yes I was just in double denial, somehow. Because I was glad that the group was smaller now. Smaller meant more tightly knit, and I would rather have few close friends than many distant ones. ‘Why was I in denial about that though? Seems kinda dumb,’
‘Yes, it was. My guess was that it was caused by this bit right here,’ Watcher then pointed at a particularly old part of my psyche. ‘The now apparently out of date ([more friendship] = [good/better/yes]) function was interpreted by current functions as having meant friendships as a linear number instead of a summation of the cubed volumes. Or so the higher up bits tell me.’
Well, at least that was an easy fix. Kinda wished past me had been more thoughtful, but she was, like, two years old, so it was an understandable failing. ‘Maybe I should just remove that whole old mess of spaghetti code, it hasn't even done anything useful in ages.’ One flex of will later and the whole thing unravelled itself, turning back into default mind soup.
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇
Conveniently—read; very purposefully— my callisthenics happened to finish right at five till seven, which meant that I could walk back down to the dorm room's washroom and let the sound of my showering help wake everybody up. My glasses were left on my nightstand alongside the wand holster that was usually hidden up my sleeve. Of course inside the holster was my wand, 31cm of ornately grown ivory, with an abomination of a core made from a new moon jewel feeding off of a solstice spark. I wasn't worried about leaving it about, not only was it incredibly durable but nobody else could touch it without freezing a hand off as well.
After removing those accessories I unravelled my hair out of its singular large fishtail braid that I commonly kept it in, then from there I grabbed my uniform clothes to replace the exercise clothes I was wearing. The shower stall was a little on the small side, as the semi-communal facility had to contain multiple stalls of both the washing and lavatorial varieties. There was only so much spatial enchanting allocated for in the budget.
The shower was a short yet pleasant affair. Steaming hot water crested itself around my frame, leaving tingling trails of first-degree burns on my skin as I went over my body with the soap, washing thoroughly in spite of my lack of need. Life wasn't about fulfilling needs. There was a difference between simply being alive and living.
Ten minutes after I had entered the shower, I exited the bathroom fully robed and still in the process of re-braiding my hair. A few charms pulled straight out of Practical Household Magic by Zamira Gulch had already dried and detangled my hair, but I considered that much to be normal enough for me to use. All the other girls were busy as bees. Thursdays were always the most active day of the week for us; with Potions and Transfiguration in the morning, followed by Magical Theory and Flying in the evening. It was about as full as any of our days got. And on top of that, it was the only day of the week that had a class directly after breakfast, which had the little bees in a hurry.
As I waited for the other girls, I continued my pre shower routine in reverse, getting myself back to being presentable. There was some small talk circling around the room, but I didn't much care for the beauty product industry, and it would be rude to spontaneously start insulting everyone's apparent passion. I was sure that one day I would have the opportunity to set 'em straight, but that time was not now.
However, what it was time for was breakfast. We didn't always walk in a group to breakfast, but Peeves had increased his peevishness significantly as the day of great spook neared and his power increased. Thus I waited for the others, just in case the wee lad tried anything ‘funny’.
He didn't. We made it to the Great Hall right at the start of breakfast and got to watch all the food getting teleported in, each dish making a cute little ‘pop’ sound as it appeared. I dug in with my usual gusto, eating through a stack of waffles the size of a large cat before breakfast was over. I may not have been a picky eater, but I could still appreciate the house-elves’ dedication.
Once breakfast was finished, and all the plates were brought back to the kitchen, the girls and I joined the boys and the birdies on their way towards the dungeons. I spent the walk speaking with Sue and Reynold, which led to us being station mates once we sat down in class.
Professor Snape entered the class with the same flare that he always did, robes billowing dramatically in the nonexistent winds of the dungeon classroom. “Today you will be brewing the Wiggenweld Potion. It can be used to restore stamina or counter drowsiness. It is mildly toxic, and thus can significantly contribute towards Potion Sickness, unlike superior brews.” As he was talking a piece of chalk was separately writing out the potion’s recipe on the blackboard. “Well, get to it,” he said with his by now signature scowl.
It was common knowledge that Professor Snape didn't like any non-Slytherin student on principle. I turned to look at my table mates. “I'll check for contamination and work the water,” I said as I started cleaning. These steps were never stated by the professor, but they were some of the most important, regardless. The cleaning was to prevent cross contamination, and ‘work the water’ meant increasing the magic capacity of the water beyond the normal amount that would happen when a wizard decides to use that water in potion brewing.
I could understand assuming that students are capable of cleaning their equipment, but stretching out the water's essence was very unintuitive. It really should've been one of the first things he taught us. It was literally the universal foundation of potion making, the first step that let the water absorb the components added, and he just let us work with whatever our auras naturally caused. ‘I'm sure he'll teach everyone eventually. There's no way he's waiting for them to find it in the fifth-year textbook, no way at all.’
He was, one didn't have to be psychic to see such a thing when he made it so obvious.
Class went on, and I tried my best to impart the beauty of standardised measurements upon Sue and Reynold. At my hopefully-not-too-rude prodding to use my recommended metric version of the recipe, the three of us managed to make the best Wiggenweld Potion in class. Though, that wasn't exactly a high bar.
After Potions we had Transfiguration with the Gryffindors, but strangely Hermione wasn't there. That was mildly concerning, especially considering how studious I knew she was. I always had to be sandbagging especially hard in Transfiguration class, as my natural ability for bioengineering gave me an inhumanly good talent for three dimensional visualisation, which trivialised much of the class. I still looked like a genius at it— really at all of my classes— but I wasn't too good.
Five minutes into class, Olea found Hermione. Apparently she was crying alone in the first-floor girls bathroom near the dungeons. I very briefly considered whether or not I should disappear in the middle of class to go help her, before coming to the inevitable conclusion of, ‘Of course I'm going to help her, friends don't let don't let their friends cry alone in a lavatory unless specifically requested!’
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
My absence would be noticed once I was gone, but Hermione was more important than that. Thus I vanished, completely disappearing into the wind. I reappeared at the entrance to the washroom, and my whole attention locked onto the quiet sobbing coming from within.
I made sure my steps were audible as I walked across the tiled floor. Hearing the noise, Hermione made a sharp inhale of breath, pausing her verbalisations but undoubtedly still distraught.
Once I reached the toilet stall that she was hiding in, I knocked before asking, “Hermione, can I open the door?”
She took a stifled breath upon recognising my voice. “... N-no,” she said with a wavering cadence.
I sighed and sat down with my back leaning against her stall door. “Okay, that's fine. I understand if you don't want me to see you right now. Nobody likes for others to see their weakness, that's normal… Do you want to talk about this, about what- about who caused this? It's fine if you don't want to, just… know that I'm here for you.”
On the other side of the door Hermione started crying again. After several minutes, she eventually spoke. “A-Artemis, why are y-you still here? Y-y’ur” she sniffled, “missing cl-class.” she asked, voice cracking throughout.
I replied with the first thing that came to my mind. “Because you're my friend, dummy,” I replied. “You're way more important than some stupid classes.”
Hermione shuddered at my explanation. But after that, she stood up and opened the stall's door. I stood to face her, taking in her decrepit appearance. Her tear stricken visage stared back at me, and her already ratty hair was in extra disarray.
I pulled her into a hug. She hugged me back as we both crumpled to the floor. Her vice-like grip was impairing my respiratory systems, but I was content to do nothing about that as the shorter girl soaked my shoulder. I did my best to comfort her, slowly moving my hand through her hair as she whimpered.
“It's alright, I'm here, you are brilliant and beautiful and important, and everything is going to be alright.” I whispered into her ear. We sat like that for a long while. At some point Hermione dozed off whilst I was comforting her, it would've been cuter if it weren't for the fact that she cried herself to sleep in my embrace.
Though, even given the circumstance, her waking up was one of the most adorable sights I had ever seen. Watching those huge bespectacled eyes blinking up at my less huge bespectacled eyes was just so precious.
I had shuffled her around a bit when she was asleep so that her legs were straighter and the back of her head was resting on my left breast. Not that I had much in terms of bosom considering that I was— at the very least pretending to be— eleven- wait, no, my birthday was literally yesterday, I was twelve now. But it was a lot better than my collarbone, and I wasn't sure if Hermione would've been comfortable with having her head on my lap, so my chest was the best option.
Regardless of my attempts to make my friend comfortable, she woke up and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands in a way that just had me smiling ardently down towards her.
“Artemis? Why are we- oh…” she said upon waking up.
I hugged her a little tighter and my smile dimmed back down to the gentle reassurance that it was before. “Yeah, you- you seemed to need the rest, so I figured that I would just wait until you woke up. I had considered moving you, but I didn't want to disturb your nap.” I said, absentmindedly stroking her hair as she blushed from the embarrassment of sleeping in a public bathroom. “Don't worry nobody saw you, I made sure to scare them all away, after explaining the situation.” I told her.
She gave a quiet, “Thank you,” as she hid her face behind her hands.
“Of course! What else are friends for?” I replied, which just got me another ‘thank you’. “Speaking of which, whose body are we going to be hiding?”
“What? No, nobody—” she started.
“I completely agree! There won't even be a body after we're through with 'em!” I finished.
“No! We aren't killing anybody!” she said with barely restrained laughter.
I chuckled at her exasperation.
“How long was I asle—” I received a medium priority mental ping from my overseers. “—ep for, anyways?” she asked.
Why the hell was there a troll in the dungeons, and why was Professor Quirrell running from the same direction? Whatever, that wasn't important unless it somehow made its way towards us. Though, I took a moment to cast a— “Lumoof,”— muffling charm just in case. “A little over nine hours, the Hallowe'en feast should be starting any minute now. But don't rush yourself, we can stay here as much as you'd like.” I answered.
“Um, thank you, but why did you cast a privacy ward?” she asked, having recognised the spell.
“Witchcraft, obviously,” I responded.
“That isn't an explanation, and you know it.” Hermione lightly scolded.
“I know,” I replied unabashedly. “So, who did what to cause this?”
“Well… I, um…” her eyes got a little watery and her voice quieted as she recounted what had happened. “I-in Charms c-class we w-were lear-… P-Professor Flitwick was teaching us t-the levitation charm Whendarleem, Wingardium—”
“Windarlium Leviosa, the wind based lifting charm” I supplied.
“Yes, sorry, in class we were learning win-DAR-lee-um leh-vee-OH-sa, and um… the boy I-I was sitting next to was saying something dumb like—” She took a deep breath. “He was mispronouncing the incantation, a-and then when I helped correct him he- he just said, ‘You do it, then, if you're so clever’, and I, um, did.”
“Okay, that's good, being helpful is good. You did the right thing, okay?” I said reassuringly.
Hermione took a moment to breathe. “O-okay,” she acknowledged. “At the end of class, he said something about how I was a nightmare and n-nobody could stand being around me… I—”
I hugged her with enough force to squeeze all the air out of her lungs. “No, you're not. You, Hermione Granger, are not a nightmare, you are not intolerable, and you are most certainly not any of the other mean things that he, or some different stupid prat, have or will ever say about you. You are a brilliant and kind young witch, and let anyone ever tell you otherwise.” On a side note, they were evacuating the Great Hall, and the troll was getting closer to our location.
Hermione took some time to consider my words— catch her breath— after my Hug of Silencing™, but eventually she settled on another quiet “Thank you,”
“Of course,” I said.
“No, really, you're a great friend. We don't even know each other very well, but you're still just letting me cry on your shoulder.” she specified.
“Of course,” I said, again. “You still haven't given me a name.”
She took a slow breath before answering. “Weasley,” she whispered.
“Ronald Bilius Weasley, poor bloke has no idea what's—” Speak of the devil, look who was getting near! Him and Potter were both on an intercept course for the troll, which was just astronomically stupid. Why were they here? They just hid from Professor Snape, who was power walking his way to the third floor, undoubtedly to make sure the thing— probably the Philosopher's Stone, but I didn't really care enough to check— was secure.
“Artemis, why did you just stop in the middle of talking? Hello? Artemis?” she waved a hand in front of my face.
I batted the offending limb aside, and entered hypercognition. I spent two seconds running through all of the ways I could handle the now inevitable incident that was approaching, and after much thought I decided on killing the troll with one of my mother's spells used in combination with a fourth-year kindling charm.
It was the most plausible series of events that I could come up with on such short notice, without involving any risk.
“Sorry, just thinking about how much of an idiot that Weasley half-wit is.” I explained. And that was partly true, because he and Potter were about to pull some stupendously stupid shit.
“Hmm, so are we going to catch that feast?” she asked softly.
‘No, I don't think that's in the cards anymore.’ were my honest thoughts at the time, but I didn't voice them. Had to play at ignorance, even if just a smidge. “Undoubtedly, let's get on our way.” I lied as I gave her my hand to help her up.
Once Hermione was on her feet she looked towards me, then she looked past me. At the sight just past my shoulder in her view. At the mountain troll that just entered the bathroom. At the door that just locked behind it, trapping us inside with the troll.
She opened her lips and took a sharp inhale, but my hand was covering her mouth before she could scream. That would only agitate the troll, which would make my job harder. I slowly turned around for dramatic effect, and my eyes widened in faux terror upon seeing the four metre tall magical beast that was my prey.
My wand slid into my hand from my duelling holster, and I steadied my aim upon the troll. It turned its ugly little head towards us, and scratched at the grey rocky hide of its head with the hand not burdened by its club. I shouted two words, casting two spells, both with enough raw power and skill to penetrate the troll’s magic resistant skin.
“Bíobláþiá!” sent forth an ethereal green snake that slithered like lightning. From the snake bite, the troll's hide was covered in grasses, leaves, vines, and flowers. The whole troll— inside and out— was turned into a plant-like version of itself.
My second spell, “Sukivon!”, didn't have a flashy conduit effect like the first did, but what it did have was extreme lethality against plants. The now plant based troll turned brown and yellow as it dried up, before it caught fire and swiftly burned to cinders.
Sukivon wasn't much of a combat spell. Normally the most that the fourth-year kindling charm would do was dry out an opponent's skin and ruin their hair. That was because it was meant to be used to start fires with wet logs. It was designed to work on plants not meat, but in exchange it worked very well for its specified purpose.
I breathed a sigh of relief as the ashes collapsed in on themselves. “It's okay,” I said, sheathing my unusual wand and hugging Hermione. “It's okay, we're okay. The troll is gone.” I said somewhat frantically. The collapse of the ashes had formed some soft plooms that dirtied the two of us with soot. A first-year cleaning charm managed to get our glasses clean, but did little beyond that.
“Should- should we call somebody?” Hermione asked me, as we were making our way around the pile of ash. I figured that she wouldn't prefer to stay in the same room, so I left and she followed.
“Yes, most certainly,” I answered her automatically. A swift kick to the locked door broke it off its hinges. “But I don't think one would begrudge me for abstaining. Considering my feats, I find myself deserving of rest.” I sat down against the wall, near the entrance to the lavatory, and closed my eyes. I wasn't truly tired, but I was mildly emotionally exhausted after such an affair. “Hermione, would you be a dear and call for help? Just any old attention grabbing spell will do.”
“Or, I could just shout with my mouth.” she retorted.
“Yes, you could. That would be smart. You're so smart Hermione. So smart,” I said wearily. Regardless, I covered my ears and she started shouting, and eventually Professor McGonagall came storming up from the dungeons.
“Miss Granger! What on earth are you mak—” She saw me slumped against the wall with my eyes closed. “… is she injured?” the professor asked.
“'M fine, just tired,” I mumbled, but apparently she heard me well enough.
She sighed. “You two had better have a good explanation for this,” she said.
“Hermi was crying, so I comfied her all day in th’ biffy as she napped. ‘En th’ troll came in looken all scary ‘nd I killed it for be safe. Is ‘till in thir, was left.” I rambled. Luckily Hermione was a smart cookie and— with some embarrassment— explained what I was ‘trying’ to say. “Thx Herms,” I thanked quietly.
Hermione was thoroughly interrogated over the better part of half an hour, during which she rather reluctantly admitted that it was currently her, ah, time of the month, which added to the distress that Weasley had caused. I, of course, already knew that because of my sensory abilities, but I didn't have an explainable reason as to how I knew, so I had politely not brought the topic up with Hermione earlier. Poor girl, I was pretty athletic, so I used that as a reason for not getting a period yet, but I knew I could delay forever. Not like I would ever get hit by the worst of it anyways, what with me— at least hypothetically— having full control of any hormone changes, flux, cramps and all that. I made a mental note to get her some chocolate tomorrow. I already did such a thing for a few of my dorm mates, it wouldn't be any extra work to do it for her as well. ‘Maybe I could even get her to start exercising… wait, when I say it like that it sounds insulting.’
Really the whole thing just redoubled how much of prats those boys were in my mind. I couldn't even get them in trouble for this, because, again, I had no legitimate way to know about how this was all their fault. The professor did, however, recognise that the troll was locked in there with us, and Hermione would likely spread that fact around as she told people what had happened. McGonagall also hit us with a proper full body cleaning charm, which was nice of her.
In the end, Hermione was sent off to Gryffindor Tower for the night, and I was escorted to the infirmary. I would be sleeping there as I was supposedly ‘recovering from magic exhaustion’ and needed my rest. I had little doubt that someone would interrogate me later, but for the time being I slept there, in silent vigilance against whatever tomorrow would bring.