@jacklynnfrost I love you, I love this AU you have developed. Thank you for sharing it with me and for letting me write with you. I hope you have a day filled with joy.
@yuleira drew this amazing picture to go with it. Thanks for collabing with me Keshia - you are amazing to work with 🙂
Slugorn rubs his hands together, his pudgy face split with a grin as he stands over Elizabeth’s caldron, taking deep breaths of the indigo smoke that rises in curling plumes from its depths. The professor wafts his hands around, guiding the aroma towards him as he takes another appreciative sniff. Tentatively, Zeldris shuffles forwards a little in his seat, peering over the bench as he too tries to catch a glimpse of the mixture. But he fails. All he can see is the back of Elizabeth’s head, her long, silver hair shining in the sparse light that leaks from the green-glowing torches placed around the dungeon. He does get the smell though: wild berries, geranium, mint and something else he cannot quite place but which makes a shiver run down his spine.
“In all my days, I have never, ever, known a first year student manage to brew a perfect healing potion,” whispers the potions master, awe trembling through his tone. “Remarkable, Miss Liones. Simply remarkable.”
“It was nothing,” the girl replies shyly, and Zeldris feels a rush of pride. His friend is remarkable. That is a fact he has come to realise with an increasing certainty over the past several weeks, ever since he and Elizabeth had become more than passingly acquainted. With a twist of the mouth he looks down at his own caldron, which is simmering gently; the faint hint of fruit and herbs is there but their concentration is in no way comparable to Elizabeth’s. Once, that knowledge would have made him feel wretched, and he is surprised to find he does not care. This time, his friend’s success feels as good as his own.
“Ten points to Hufflepuff,” Slughorn declares with another huge grin at Elizabeth and Zeldris does not need to see her face to know she is blushing. The back of her ears are a distinct shade of red. “Now,” Slughorn says brightly, rubbing his hands together once more as his kindly eyes rove over the room, “let’s see how the rest of you have done, shall we?”
Slughorn makes his rounds, observing and testing each of the students’ concoctions. He gives Zeldris a beaming “Well done” followed by a hearty “Keep up the good work” before sweeping along the bench, dispensing advice and tuts to those of his peers who have fared less well in their task.
His legs wobble a little when class is dismissed, and he hops down from his stool with a slight stumble to pack up his things. It is lunchtime and he hopes to catch a few words with Elizabeth on their way to the great hall. He wishes wholeheartedly that students did not have to sit at their house tables. A Slytherin he may be, but he has nothing in common with the others who wear stripes of green on their robes, and nor does he wish to.
He makes his way with the others up the stairs from the dungeons, and is on the point of calling a greeting to Elizabeth when a boy steps in front of him, then another, and another. He stands firm, his hand grasping his wand. Every muscle in his body is tense. This time, he will be prepared for the attack. This time…
“Where do you think you’re going, shrimp?” The largest of the boys blocks his path, the others moving to flank him on either side, and Zeldris grits his teeth as he assesses the gameplay. The bullies have out-foxed him. If he attacks out here in the open, he will be the one to be reprimanded - most of the teachers are in the dining hall and will hear any disturbance - but if he does nothing he will be called a coward. Either way his non-existent popularity will plummet even further. He is trapped.
“Zeldris!” He starts as Elizabeth runs towards him, a slight smile on her lips but her blue eyes cold as frost. “I need you to help me with something.” Before he can protest, she grabs his hand and starts pulling, dragging him in the opposite direction from both the thugs and their lunch. “It won’t take long,” she says brightly to the bullies who are staring hard, their arms folded across their chests. “Excuse me.”
He turns and lets her lead him away, his heart pounding. He is on high alert, straining to hear any footfalls behind them. But as they move away from the throngs of students, the cacophony of chatter lulls to a hum and it is only their own footsteps that echo through the corridors.
Zeldris swallows. He knows he should thank Elizabeth for saving him - again - but the words stick in his throat. His eyes dart to the floor, to the ceiling, to the portraits on the stone walls whose occupants wave and sing and roll their eyes at the pair of small students striding along, black cloaks billowing out behind them. None of it helps. Embarrassment clenches at Zeldris’s stomach, and he wishes fervently he was someone else.
He nearly bites off his tongue when Elizabeth turns towards him, her face wreathed in smiles and all the anger gone from her features. “I want to show you something,” she whispers. “Follow me.” And follow he does as his friend leads him up staircases he has never used to the upper floors of the castle and through the labyrinth that is Hogwarts School.
He stops short when they reach a grey-looking door, its once white paint peeling off in ugly strips. “I can’t go on there,” he protests as Elizabeth places a hand on the doorknob. “This is a girls’ bathroom,” he says, horrified, as she cocks her head to one side.
“Oh!” Elizabeth laughs, then pushes the door open so hard it knocks against the wall with a soft thud. “Don’t worry. No one ever comes here.” She pulls Zeldris over the threshold. His feet feel like lead, but reluctantly he takes a few steps, though only to maintain his balance. The room is enormous: four sinks line the wall, gold taps gleaming in the sunlight that streams through the dusty window and onto the marble tiled floor.
“But it’s for girls,” he protests again, gooseflesh creeping along his skin.
Elizabeth rolls her eyes. “I told you, no one ever comes here,” she says with a little chuckle. “That’s why I can grow these.” She beckons to a stall at the far end of the room, Zeldris shuffling along as he follows.
What he sees within the toilet makes his mouth pop open. There are rows and rows of pots of various sizes filled soil and the first beginnings of bright green shoots. He recognises some from Herbology: there is mandrake, gillyweed, snapdragon and yarrow, along with some specimens he has not seen before. “What do you think?” Elizabeth asks shyly.
He does not answer and she continues into the silence, “I’ve been experimenting, trying to breed stronger varieties. This mandrake, for instance,” she says, her voice becoming more sure. “Usually they take several weeks to mature, but this will be ready in a few days. I planted it yesterday. Isn’t it exciting?” she asks, her voice tinged with hurt.
Zeldris clears his throat. “It is. I’m sorry, it’s really exciting. I was just so… taken aback. This is incredible. You’re amazing!”
Elizabeth gives him a full on grin. “Thanks. I feel like I can make a lot of improvements, you know? I come here when it gets a bit much. And now you can too! This can be our little hideout.”
“But what?” asks Elizabeth, her head cocked a little to one side.
“I don’t understand. How come no one comes here. It’s a toilet…”
“Oh!” Elizabeth’s eyes light up with understanding and she starts to back out of the stall, Zeldris preceding her. “I’m so sorry. You haven’t met…”
He nearly jumps out of his skin when the wailing starts. “What was that?” he hisses. His wand is in his hand, and he turns slowly to survey the room. “Show yourself,” he commands as his grip on his wand tightens.
He whips round, pushing Elizabeth behind him, but all he can see are sinks and mirrors. His rapid breathing sounds through the space. “Elizabeth,” he whispers, “move to the door. I’ll hold off whatever it is.”
“It’s only a boy.” He whips round again, teeth grinding as his gaze once more falls on nothing at all. “How very… disappointing,” the voice continues and Zeldris swears he can hear an audible pout in its tone.
Elizabeth sighs. “This is why no one comes here,” she whispers softly into Zeldris’s ear. His eyebrows raise into his fringe. He has not once, ever, heard Elizabeth be anything but welcoming and friendly, enthusiastically nice to whoever she is talking to. The note of annoyance is one he would not have expected.
“Hello Myrtle,” says Elizabeth more loudly and brightly.
Zeldris sucks in a sharp breath. “Myrtle? Moaning Myrtle? I thought she was a myth…”
A piercing scream rings, the metallic rasp bouncing off what Zeldris suddenly realises must be the many copper pipes. The noise is deafening and he has to suppress the urge to cover his ears. Elizabeth shakes her head slowly, placing a finger over her lips. “He meant Myrtle,” she placates, “and of course you are a legend. Your role in the second wizarding war is…”
“I. Saved. Everyone!” The ghost materialises, her pudding bowl haircut and glasses pushed right into Zeldris’s face. “You will treat me with respect. Ooohhh,” she coos as she looks more closely at him, and he lowers his eyes under her knowing gaze. “But you must be the brother of that one, the dangerous one,” she practically purrs. “You look just like him, only less handsome. Can you introduce me? I was so upset when Meliodas was expelled. It was so unfair! I miss him. He was so handsome.”
“I… um…” stammers Zeldris.
“He used to come and see me all the time,” the ghost gloats as she lies on her back in the air, her arms resting behind her head. “Now it’s only her,” Myrtle says rather waspishly in Elizabeth’s direction. “You know it happened right here, in this bathroom,” she adds conspiratorially, her attention fixed on Zeldris once more. “I saw Meliodas kill that girl…”
“Yes Myrtle, whatever you say,” Elizabeth murmurs as she backs towards the door. “My apologies. If you’ll excuse us we need to head down to lunch. See you soon!”
Before the ghost can reply, Elizabeth bundles Zeldris out into the corridor. “That’s why no one goes in there,” she explains a little breathlessly once the door has shut behind them. “Myrtle is… an experience. I try to be nice but she keeps going on and on about Olive Hornbeam! The poor woman’s been dead goodness knows how many years, get over it!”
She places a warm hand on his shoulder. “She’s constantly exaggerating,” Elizabeth assures. “Every time I see her, Myrtle tells me something different, makes herself out to be more heroic. Don’t take any notice of her.”
“Yeah… sure…” he mutters past the lump in his throat. His brother never had told him why he had been expelled, leaving Zeldris to fill in the gaps with rumour and speculation. But deep down he suspects, has always suspected, that the role his brother played was far from an honourable one. The thought makes him sick, and he swallows hard as a splash of bile coats the back of his throat. He had always looked up to Meliodas and now...
“Come on.” Elizabeth says quietly, taking his hand and interrupting his brooding. “Let’s go get lunch. Not in the hall,” she adds quickly, obviously seeing the reluctance in his face. “I have some friends in the kitchens.”
“Why am I not surprised you get on with the house elves?” Zeldris says with a chuckle, Elizabeth joining in with his laughter as they head down the stairs. Zeldris feels a warm glow smooth over his fear. An outcast he may be, and his brother may no longer confide in him, but he has a friend. A real friend. And she happens to be the best one in the whole school.