❛ chapter seven ⎜ conversations ❜

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐀𝐖𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌.

"Hey," I said, sitting down next to her. It was early, the first rays of the sun were peeking out from the horizon, chasing away the darkness and stars.

Despite the fact that I'd be exhausted to the point where I could barely lift my eyes, sleep had eluded me. For the last few months, nightmares had plagued me. Any dreamless sleep I could get, no matter how restless or little, was a relief. But most of the time, I was too scared to close my eyes. Fire would burn my eyelids and all I could see was a green flash and a smudge of silver before everything exploded. Needless to say, I was used to running on little sleep.

"Hey," Kiera said evenly. "How was detention?"

I pursed my lips. "Always too polite to say 'I told you so', aren't you?"

Kiera smiled. "To be fair, I never said anything."

"Yeah yeah yeah," I said, rolling my eyes. Kiera laughed.

"But seriously, how was it?"

"Sylvia's been in enough detentions for you to know what they're like."

Kiera rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but never one with Professor Umbridge."

"It was fine. Exhausting. I went with Filch to clean cabinets without magic. It sucks."

"I'm not going to say you didn't deserve that," Kiera sighed.

I shook my head. "How do you keep your cool when she says stuff like that? You know I'm normally level-headed, but it was like something in me exploded."

"I don't have quite a personal attachment to the subject," Kiera said gently. I gave her the side eye.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean Elise."

"I haven't talked about it at all." My voice was sharper than I intended.

Kiera sighed. "My parents may be scared, but they still hear things. My mum works with yours, they've talked."

"Everyone's parent's work with mine and so they all know about Uncle Paul and they're all checking up on me," I groaned, flopping back into the chair. "It's getting on my nerves."

"'Everyone'?"

I held up my hand, counting off my finger. "You, Ron, Jaimie. And those are only the people who have talked to me so far."

"They're probably too scared," Kiera teased.

I fell silent. Even though she meant it in a lighthearted way, it still stung. After the things - the rumors - that people shared after Uncle Paul died, it wasn't funny.

I always thought myself a part of the world, but once I looked around with a plea half formed on my lips, searching for someone to help, I found myself scorned and looked down upon, sinking into a place wreathed with shadows instead of sunlight.

"Elise? Everything okay?"

"Hm?" I mumbled. "What, oh yeah."

I could feel her eyes on me, trying to figure me out, but I'd gotten good at holding my feelings close to my heart.

"You should catch up on homework," she said eventually, her quill scratching along merrily.

"I should," I agreed, making no move to stand.

Kiera gave me the side eye.

"I'll do it later," I sighed.

My eyes wandered to the fireplace. The ashes were still and small, a minuscule part of the wild world. It's funny how the ashes represent so much and yet contribute so little. They're the leftovers of something great: a bright, warm fire. And yet they're useless and thrown out at the end of the day. How can something so small and pointless be the remnants of something so loved and treasured?

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

By the time our morning break rolled around, I was so focused on homework that the philosophy on ashes had long been forgotten.

I had three essays, two dream diary entries, a drawing of a Bowtruckle, a countercharm for Charms, and needed to practice Vanishing Spells. And it was only the second day!

"Elise?" Ron whispered, tapping me on the shoulder.

"What?" I asked, sketching another finger onto my Bowtruckle.

"I wanted to talk to you, remember?"

"Yeah," I sighed, setting down my pencil and looking wistfully at the nearly finished drawing.

Ron led me behind one of the bookshelves in the library. "I wanted to check in," he said in a low voice.

I pursed my lips. "I don't want to talk about it."

"It-"

"If you say 'It'll make you feel better', you're going to get a stack of books to the head."

"You didn't come over this summer, at all," Ron stated, ticking things off his fingers as he went down the list, "you didn't send an owl. Hermione tells me you haven't even asked how her summer was!"

"I haven't had two minutes to talk to her," I snapped. "Nor you. I was busy this summer. And I didn't feel like it."

"Harry was there," Ron said. I raised an eyebrow.

"So? You guys spend almost every summer with each other for at least a few weeks. We just never overlap."

"He was quiet this morning."

"I don't care about what Harry did this morning or this summer, okay Ronald? Please let me finish my homework."

I tried to walk past him but he blocked me.

"Ronald Weasley-"

"He asked me about you."

I sighed. "Am I supposed to care about any of this? Or are you deaf? I. Don't. Care. Okay? Now please let me go."

This time he let me pass, a troubled expression on his face.

Why does he think I'd care about that? I sighed to myself as I rolled up my drawing and placed it next to the assays I'd finished for Professor Binns, Professor Sprout, and Professor Snape. I mean, I'm slightly curious as to why he would ask about me, but other than that? Ron is so weird sometimes.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

The hours of the rest of the day spun by. My mind was so occupied with the fact that I could talk to Monica and Charlie that I could barely pay attention - Professor McGonagall was not happy. Thankfully I had completed a lot of my homework during our break because it meant that I wasn't drowning with all the extra work they assigned.

Finally, after an hour picking at my food, dinner was over.

"What, are you Kiera now?" Sylvia snorted as I grabbed my bag and jumped out of my seat.

"Haha," I mumbled. "So funny. Can't you hear me laughing?"

I rushed to the Library in record time.

When I arrived, neither Monica nor Charlie was there.

I found three seats, dropping my bag on one of them. But I couldn't sit. I paced back and forth, my stomach turning in circles. Why am I so nervous? I shouldn't be nervous. I'm just talking to my siblings. My siblings, who aren't where they're supposed to be. My siblings, who are more trouble than I can normally handle. Get a grip on yourself, Elise! Deep breaths. C'mmon. Breathe.

"Elise?" asked a very familiar voice from behind me. I spun. No more than six feet in front of me stood Monica, her beanie resting precariously on her crown and her blue eyes flickering with something that looked surprisingly like guilt.

"Monica," I breathed. She ran over, nearly jumping on me.

"You must be confused."

"You have no idea."

"Hey Elise," Charlie said meekly. He had appeared from behind a bookshelf, his eyes nearly an identical shade as Monica's. I smiled.

"Hey Char."

"So," Monica said, her voice unusually serious, "you wanted to talk."

"Yeah." I pulled out of the hug. "C'mmon, sit."

They sat, Monica looking anywhere but me.

"How was your first two and a half days?" I asked, trying to break the tension. "Professor McGonagall said that Charlie set his robes on fire " - they exchanged a mischievous grin - " and that Monica is overly excited to turn people into ferrets."

"Well," Monica protested, "a lot of people annoy me!"

I raised an eyebrow. "You'll get into so much trouble if you turn anyone into anything. Besides, that's N.E.W.T level stuff. Human transformation? That's hard."

"Speaking of trouble," Monica said, with a gleam in her eyes, "there's a, ahem, a rumor that you, ahem, you know - "

"Spit it out," I interrupted, rolling my eyes.

Monica grinned. "You got detention on the first day?"

I looked at the ground. "We can talk about that later."

The two of them gasped.

"Who are you and what have you done with Elise?" Charlie demanded. His eyes widened and he looked from me to Monica. "No. Did you guys change bodies?"

"Charlie-" I started.

"Whoa! Why didn't you tell me? That's so cool! Monica - no, Elise - can you believe it? Elise - sorry, Monica, got detention on the first day!"

"Charlie!"

"Yes?" He blinked.

"Enough with the puppy eyes. I'm still Elise and Monica is still Monica."

Charlie gasped. "What? So you've changed back? Why didn't you tell me."

I gave him the 'quit it or you will regret it' look. He clamped his mouth shut with a snap.

"I just wanted to check in with the two of you." I looked over at them. Monica looked the same as she had three days ago when we boarded the train but... different. There was still the spark in her eyes full of mischief, but there was something about the blue and black robes she wore that made her look wiser. Older. Not like the troublesome little girl I used to chase after. Charlie still looked like him, an effervescent boy with dreams and hopes and a laugh that could make the dead smile.

"Elise, we're not six anymore," Monica sighed as she rolled her eyes.

"I know. I'm still four years older than you, though. Did you send Mum an owl?"

"No, and I don't intend to."

"Monica."

"Elise," she mimicked.

"Monica."

"Elise."

"Charlie!" he exclaimed, his cheeks ruddy and a smile on his face.

"What?" I asked, looking at him in confusion.

Charlie blinked. "Oh, nothing. I just wanted to join in."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Seriously. Charlie, did you send Mum an owl?"

He nodded. "I borrowed one from the Owlery. Mercury can't fly." Instead of buying an owl in Diagon Alley, Charlie bought a grey tabby which he named Mercury.

I motioned to him. "See Monica? You can borrow Ciena if you need. Good job, by the way Char."

"Thanks."

I leaned over and gave him a one armed hug. He laughed loudly, snuggling against me.

"Shh!" hissed Madam Pince, appeared over Monica's head. The twins jumped, recoiling at the bizarre and slightly frightening appearance of the librarian.

Her vulture-like face was stretched tight and her skin was waxed and like parchment. To compliment the look, her hooked nose was one very similar to Professor Snape's.

"Apologies, Madam Pince," I said respectfully.

Her narrowed eyes scanned us, lingering on Monica's face for a moment longer before she humped and swept away.

"What was that?" Monica whispered loudly.

"Who. That was Madam Pince. She's the librarian. Never get on her bad - Monica sit down now."

"What?" Monica asked innocently, jumping off her chair and sitting in it.

I gave her a hard look. "Chairs are for sitting on, not standing on."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

We settled into a comfortable silence, but inside, I was wringing my hands like a pro, trying to figure out how to phrase my thoughts into appropriate sentences was hard.

"I know what you're thinking," Monica mumbled, uncharacteristically listless. "And I know why you're thinking it."

"Why are you a Ravenclaw?" I blurted out, throwing away all tact and leaping to my feet. Then I turned to Charlie. "And why are you a Gryffindor?"

"It's complicated," Monica sighed.

I shook my head. "You were meant for Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Monica, how are you not Gryffindor? Your recklessness and disrespect for authority.... And Charlie, I can see how you might be Gryffindor but you are obviously a Hufflepuff! You're loyal and kind above all"

"We're obviously that to you," Charlie said sharply. I fell into my seat as if pushed, the rant out of me. Charlie being sharp? What was the world turning into? "But to each other? To ourselves? We wanted to be something different. We wanted to fulfill our dreams, not continue our previous lives."

"Still," I whispered, looking mainly at Monica, "Ravenclaw? It doesn't seem like you at all."

"I could say the same for you," Monica said defiantly. "Why are you in Gryffindor?"

I let out a small, humorless chuckle. "Because I wanted to be... be more like you. Daredevil and not afraid of anything. I wanted to become someone different."

"And so do I."

"And I," Charlie added. "I want to be like both of you, not just like myself. I want to be brave."

"I want to be more cool-headed. I want to value learning," Monica continued. "And so we're both where we are. The Sorting Hat took our opinions into consideration, which was super surprising, to be honest."

I gave them both a short nod. Maybe what they were experiancing wasn't so different from me in my first year. When the Sorting Hat had called out "GRYFFINDOR!" I was so surprised I nearly fell over. How could I, the nerdy girl who would rather live in a studio than in the world, fit into the house of the most outgoing and reckless students? Maybe I got there because there was that part of me that, no matter what, could never stop whispering 'what if'? What if I was brave?

"I get it... I think. I'm just confused."

Monica smiled sadly. "We all are."

𝔸𝕌𝕋ℍ𝕆ℝ𝕊 ℕ𝕆𝕋𝔼

Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed that chapter! It was a bit of a filler, but it was necessary. Please comment and vote! I like hearing your thoughts. 

Also, GIANT thanks to shangchis for this BEAUTIFUL new sign off gif!