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Author: Windsong Story: The Thorn in the Sand Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: WIP Reviews: 4 Words: 21,485
Holly’s outstretched arm encountered heavy drapes as she rolled over, still half asleep. Her eyes snapped open and she consciously stopped herself rolling any further. ‘Not this time,’ she thought to herself with a half smile. Pulling aside the richly embroidered blue and grey drapes of her four-poster bed with a yawn, Holly discovered she wasn’t the only early riser in her room. Olivia Prewett was sitting at the window seat, gazing out at the wonderful early morning view they had from their high tower room while she attempted to tie on an elaborate headscarf. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Olivia murmured wistfully, gazing at the misty glen stretching up into the mountains above Hogwarts. “It’s moments like this that make me feel glad to be alive.” A final tug on her headscarf proved to be too much, and the whole structure fell to the ground, revealing a few wispy, straggly tufts of ash-blonde hair. She turned to grin ruefully at Holly. “And it’s moments like that make me wish my hair would grow back quicker.” Holly grinned back. “Here, let me help.” It had come as a complete surprise to Holly to discover she and Olivia were distantly related. “Something like second cousins, once removed,” was how Olivia had described it. Apparently Olivia’s branch of the Prewett family had not approved of Granny marrying a Weasley and had shunned the Weasleys for years. It had come as even more of a shock to find out that Matthew Belford had treated Olivia for Leukaemia. As she had said to Olivia while they were unpacking their trunks last night, “Look. I know Matthew’s a Healer and all that, but I’m more used to seeing him as my sister’s besotted boyfriend, and I wouldn’t even trust him to boil an egg in that state, let alone brew a potion!” Olivia had just laughed, “Maybe, but he’s just sooo dishy. I had twenty-four hours of him holding my hand and mopping my brow. It was heavenly!” * * * It was a happy and confident Holly Potter who strode into the Great Hall for breakfast an hour later. She waved enthusiastically across to Simon and Chelsea on the Gryffindor benches before taking a seat with Brian and Olivia. Olivia stared across at Simon with undisguised interest. “Mmm… He’s dishy, too. I wonder what his bedside manner’s like?” Holly laughed, “Down, girl. He’s spoken for… by me!” Olivia’s eyes twinkled with merriment. “Oh well, I’ll just have to spread my net wider, then! The ‘Brave little girl, battling against a dread disease’ routine can get surprisingly good results, you know; and I’ll take a sympathy snog any day.” Brian choked into his pumpkin juice. “Do you mind?” he spluttered. “Some of us are trying to enjoy our breakfast.” Holly stifled a giggle at Brian’s discomfort as he vehemently speared an innocent sausage. Brian was spared from any further insights into Olivia’s thoughts about boys by the arrival of a prefect handing out timetables. He groaned out loud as he scanned the page. “What a start – double Potions with Professor Snape!” He looked at Holly with an anguished expression. “At least you’re following Hope, who ended up as one of his favourites, but he’s always hated anything Weasley. As soon as he takes one look at my hair, I’m doomed!” Olivia was grinning wickedly. “Oh, poor lamb. Are you afraid of a bad hair day?” She pulled a vibrantly pink headscarf out of her bag. “I can lend you my spare scarf if you want to hide your Weasley origins?” Holly chuckled gleefully. “Yeah, Brian. Nobody would ever notice you in that!” * * * At Brian’s prompting they left in plenty of time to get down to Snape’s dungeon classroom, meeting up with Simon and Chelsea on the way. This proved to be a good move, as they got lost twice, and had to retrace their steps back to the Great Hall each time. Finally they arrived in the corridor outside Snape’s classroom, carrying on an animated discussion about Simon and Holly’s Sorting. The Hat had told Simon that his wand had a name as well, ‘Osiris’. Apparently the Hat could sense this, and had given Simon a long lecture about his wand needing to be used ‘without fear’ and ‘to uphold the best traditions of Gryffindor House’. The four friends were still puzzling over the Hat’s remarks, and the wands’ names, when a black-robed figure loomed over them. “You will find wands, with or without names, have no place in my classroom.” Snape gestured towards the door, which swung open with an impressive creak. “Enter, find seats, and cease your meaningless babble.” Holly had heard the story of her sister’s first Potions lesson years ago, and kept her face a mask of polite attention while Professor Snape went through his introductory speech. It appeared that she was not going to be Snape’s target this time, though. Brian’s fears turned out to be perfectly correct, and he had to endure a string of barbed remarks about the Weasley family in general, and Aunty Hermione in particular, ending with a sardonic, “I’m sure the son of ‘The smartest witch of her age’ will have no need of my teaching.” Brian proved equal to the challenge though, and his calm reply of, “On the contrary, Professor. My mother told me to pay close attention to all your lessons, as you were the finest Potions Master she has ever encountered,” brought a fleeting look of genuine pleasure to Snape’s face, and caused Holly to grin with relief. Holly’s grin froze on her face as she realized Professor Snape’s attention had transferred to her. “Ah, Miss Potter. I am so glad you find my lessons a source of amusement. Perhaps you will assist me in my first topic of discussion, which is basic Potion safety measures.” His dark eyes glittered in the torchlight. “Which potion ingredient is banned in OWL-level potions?” Holly knew this. “Rosehip, Professor.” Professor Snape regarded her through narrowed eyes. “And why must we never use Rosehip in OWL-level potions?” Holly swallowed nervously before answering. “Rosehip causes unpredictable reactions with many common potion ingredients, and can turn innocent potions into fatal poisons.” Snape paused for a second before continuing. “And yet, Rosehip is a vital ingredient of many medicinal potions. How can that be, Miss Potter?” Holly put on her best innocent expression. “I don’t know, Professor. That wasn’t covered in the pre-course reading we were set.” And she dipped her quill in her inkwell, prepared to take notes. Snape nodded appreciatively. “Perhaps the gods have finally decided to bless me with a Potter who is willing to learn. Rosehip must be cut into quarters with a silver knife, and steeped in a four percent solution of leech juice for twelve hours before being used.” His gaze swept over the class. “Why aren’t the rest of you writing this down? Five points to… Ravenclaw.” * * * After the intensity of Snape’s Potions lesson, the rest of the day passed as a fairly gentle introduction to Hogwarts life. History of Magic followed, then lunch, with Herbology in the afternoon. Simon managed to earn five points for Gryffindor by successfully recognizing a Devil’s Snare lurking in between some ordinary Ivy. When they eventually trooped into Professor McGonagall’s classroom for Transfiguration, Holly realized she was finally going to use her new wand at last. Sure enough, exactly as Hope had described, the first lesson would involve Transfiguring a matchstick into a needle. Holly’s family had all steadfastly refused to give her any hints on how this was to be accomplished, insisting that she learn for herself at school. Knowing how her one previous attempt at Transfiguration had gone horribly wrong, Holly paid close attention to McGonagall’s lecture. Finally, they were told to read the instructions at page five of “The Standard Book of Spells” and then attempt the Transfiguration in their own time. Holly read over the notes she had made, and the instructions in the spellbook several times before shaking her head sadly. This just wasn’t enough information for her. She started flicking further into the spellbook, looking at the descriptions of more spells. Holly was still reading when she heard McGonagall’s voice behind her. “A very commendable effort, Miss Parkinson. Five points to Slytherin.” Holly felt her face twist into a frown of concentration. She was not going to be second best to Parkinson! Finally she took up her wand. She was stopped by Professor McGonagall’s voice again. “I was wondering if you would ever make a start, Miss Potter. What have you been doing?” Holly started to explain. “Well, I think I understand the principle of the material transformation, from a wooden matchstick to a metal needle; that’s basically a matter of getting enough power into the spell. I couldn’t quite see how to arrange the change of shape, though. They’re quite subtle changes, except for having to make a hole through it. I wanted to read up some similar shape-changing spells before I tried it. I’m ready now, though, Professor.” “Continue, then, Miss Potter.” McGonagall sounded quite intrigued. Extremely conscious of the fact that she was the subject of her teacher’s undivided attention, Holly pointed her wand at the matchstick, and began to focus her magic. Her new wand felt so much more powerful in her hand than any she had used before. She concentrated her attention on the matchstick, willing the change from wood to steel. As soon as the match started changing colour, she switched her attention to moulding and twisting her magical field to create the needle shape. Just as she had expected, creating the hole was incredibly difficult, but she willed her magic to pierce the shaft. She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding when she saw the hole start to appear. Once the hole was complete, Holly sat back, blowing her cheeks out and feeling absolutely drained. She sat forward, peering intently at the needle she had created. “Oh, damn and blast!” “Language, Miss Potter!” McGonagall murmured behind her. “There is no need to swear. That is another very commendable effort. Five points to Ravenclaw. Why are you upset with your work?” Holly shook her head, angry with herself. “I was concentrating so much on getting the hole right, I didn’t watch the other end. It’s far too blunt!” McGonagall sounded amused. “Blunt it may be, Miss Potter, but only you and Miss Parkinson have managed to produce recognizable needles in this lesson. That is good work at this stage of your careers.” * * * As everyone was packing up to leave the class, Professor McGonagall called across to Holly. “Miss Potter? A word please.” Holly walked slowly to the front of the classroom, expecting a lecture about her language. “Really”, she thought, “surely ‘damn and blast’ is nothing to complain about?” Holly’s spirits lifted when she realised McGonagall was looking at her with curiosity, rather than condemnation. “That was an interesting performance today, Holly.” Holly breathed a silent sigh of relief at being addressed as ‘Holly’, rather than ‘Miss Potter’. This was unlikely to be a rebuke, after all. “Why is that, Professor?” “Your parents were both entirely instinctive in their use of magic. They could be shown things, but they rarely ‘learned’ things. And your sister, of course, had so much power I spent most of my time teaching her control. I suspect you will be different from all of them, and will need to understand the theory of your magic. I think I can see why the Sorting Hat chose you for Ravenclaw.” * * * After dinner that evening, Holly sat down to write a long letter to her parents. Someone would probably tell them that she had hurt herself when she arrived last night, so she had better tell them all about it herself to stop them worrying. She told them about her first lessons, and how much she liked the rooms in Ravenclaw Tower, and about the new friends she had made. She ended by telling them she was being allowed to try out for the Quidditch team, and asked for her Firefly to be sent over for her. Finally she added her PS. “The Grey Lady and the Sorting Hat have told Simon and me that our wands have names – Ra and Osiris. Why didn’t you tell us about that?” Simon walked up to the Owlery with Holly when she went to send her letter. “We can’t keep calling your owl, ‘Your Owl’ for ever. Haven’t you decided on a name for him yet?” Holly looked at Simon, enjoying the way the evening breeze ruffled his hair. “I shall call him ‘Zephyrus’,” she decided, “after the god of the west wind. And he shall carry my messages on wings of the gentle wind.” * * * Holly slipped her hand into Simon’s as they walked back towards the castle. The late evening sun was burnishing the lake surface, and turning the windows of the castle into a hundred glittering jewels. Holly’s heart soared with the joy of being alive. She stretched up to brush a light kiss against Simon’s cheek. Simon rubbed his cheek, smiling gently. “What was that for?” Holly smiled back. “Because I’m happy.” Simon kissed her back. Again, it was only the briefest little peck on the cheek, but Holly felt her skin tingling deliciously all the way back to the castle. * * * Holly wasn’t the only person to have sent an owl that evening. While Zephyrus was making his way to Hogsmeade, another owl was winging its way southwards, with a much briefer message. “Dearest Father, The Potter girl has the wand called ‘Ra’, and a Muggle-born boy has the wand called ‘Osiris’. Do you have any instructions for me?”
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