We Are Nowhere

The Great Hall was lit with thousands of candles that floated above the tables, and the walls were decorated with the colors of the four houses. Outside the room, first years were lined up, waiting to be sorted into their future houses. The looks on their faces told their unease. Some of them even looked very apprehensive. As she watched those new students enter the Great Hall, Winifred remembered how she had felt when she was in their place. She hadn’t been as afraid as some of them looked, but that was only because she had thought, then, that her future was already set. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that she was going to follow the footsteps of every member of her family. But the sorting hat had decided otherwise. So, instead of being in Slytherin like every Willows before her, she had found herself taking place at the Ravenclaw table.

“They’re really so tiny this year, don’t you guys think?” whispered a girl as she took a seat next to Marissa. The girl who had just sat down was shorter than Winifred by a good head, lean and nervous, and her eyes sparkled brightly from under her dark fringe. A tiny badge was pinned on her chest, and as she sat down, she unconsciously touched it.

“I knew it, Penelope,” Marissa said, beaming at the newcomer. “I told Winnie in the train that you were bound to be captain of the quidditch team this year. Congratulation!”

Winifred nodded in agreement. “Yeah, congrats, Penny. You’re gonna win this year, I can tell.”

Penelope Bennett smiled shyly. “Thanks Mar. Thanks Freddie. Since we’re talking about the quidditch team, Winnie, I was wondering…”

“Ow, no, bad idea,” Marissa said, “if you suggest that she gets back on the team, she gets sulky…”

Penelope looked at Winifred to check if this was true.

“I’ve got other interests,” Winifred said shortly.

“Are you sure?” Penelope insisted, “because it’s not just Bletchley that’s left, Percy Bishop’s gone too this year, and I could really do with a good beater to replace him. I’m sure if I talked to Flitwick and Dumbledore, I could get them to lift your ban. Smith did provoke you, after all.”

Winifred just shook her head. “No, thanks, but no. I’m sure you’ll find someone though.” She turned her head to look at a small dark-haired boy who was making his way to the Ravenclaw table after he had just been sorted. Everyone applauded as he clumsily sat down at the end of the table. “You were right, Penny,” Winifred said, pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice. “They really are tiny this year. And have you noticed that there’s quite a lot of them, too?”

“Yep,” Penelope agreed. “I hope they hurry up, though, because I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“You want to know what I really wonder?” Winifred asked a few minutes later, as the last girl made her way to the Gryffindor table under a loud cheer, “I wonder how the hat thinks up all these songs.”

“What do you mean?” Marissa asked.

“Well, I never realized before this year that it isn’t always the same song that it sings. But this year it was definitely different…”

“That’s because it was different this year,” Penelope said. “I noticed it too. The last five years it was the same song, but this year it’s different. I have no idea why, though.”

“Well, that explains why it never bothered me before,” Winifred said, “but not how this year it put things in his song about what’s happening outside Hogwarts. You know…”

“It’s an enchanted hat,” Marissa answered almost immediately, “It’s been enchanted by the founders of the school. Binns told us so in our first year, don’t you remember?”

“Of course I remember,” Winifred scoffed, though truth be told she didn’t, not really. “But I was more or less talking about the things that he sings about. You know. What with all his saying about standing strong and uniting, and not giving in to pressure. And I wonder, how does a hat know what’s happening in the wizarding world? Since it’s, well, you know, a hat. Enchanted or not, it doesn’t leave the school, so how does it know what’s happening outside the school?”

“It’s Dumbledore,” Marissa replied, her face lighting up in admiration.

Winifred shook her head. It was a very dangerous thing to get Marissa started on the subject of Hogwarts’ headmaster. Ever since Marissa had arrived at Hogwarts as a tiny first year, Dumbledore was her hero. She was fascinated by that man. “Dumbledore what? You mean he tells a hat about what’s going on. Or that he writes the songs that the hat sings?” Winifred asked with a doubtful wince. Surely, Dumbledore had more important stuff to do than to talk to a hat, let alone writes songs for it.

“Well, he’s a bit weird,” Penelope chimed in, “I wouldn’t be that surprised if he did it.”

Marissa threw her a shocked look. “You guys are silly,” she said, shaking her head. “If you had let me finish, I would have told you that the hat lives in Dumbledore’s office. I saw it last year when I requested a meeting with him for…”

“Oh, yes,” Winifred cut her short, “My apologies. I forgot that you were essentially stalking that man,” she added, exchanging a mischievous look with Penelope.

“I am not stalking anyone,” Marissa retorted, looking somewhat alarmed.

“You know practically everything that there is to know about his achievements, and you try to talk to him whenever he’s in sight, even if you have to follow him around for an hour to get the opportunity to just say ‘hi’ to him,” Penelope said, looking very serious. “It’s a bit concerning, you know.”

“It’s not stalking,” Marissa protested. She rolled her eyes. “We’re in a school, and we’re here to learn, and who better to teach us stuff than Albus Dumbledore? He’s a very interesting person, and I like to have the possibility to talk to him whenever possible. To learn things.”

“Yes, that’s what I said,” Winifred said. “Stalking.”

Marissa let out an exasperated sigh. “Anyway, to answer your question, if you still want an answer to that question, the hat lives in Dumbledore’s office, which is where it must pick things. With all the visitors and all, I’m sure the hat hears about things that go on in the outside world that none of us would even imagine.”

“It makes sense,” Winifred agreed.

Later that evening, somewhere in the middle of the feast, when Penelope had sauntered away to the Hufflepuff table and Marissa was engrossed in a conversation about Transfiguration with Dorcas Hawthorne, Winifred quietly slipped off her chair and exited the Great Hall. All the fuss about being back at Hogwarts was nice, and the food was as good as it always was. Catching up with fellow Ravenclaw students was also nice, especially since the only people she had talked to since the end of last year were slightly obsessed with blood purity. But Winifred still valued solitude above these things. Being alone and smoking was something that she hadn’t had the opportunity to do since they had left Hogsmeade. To be honest, she was craving a cigarette and it couldn’t really wait until the feast was over.

She managed to exit the castle without anyone noticing her. All the teachers were at the staff table. Like everyone else, they were enjoying the feast, and it was still too early in the year for them to be paying attention to what every student was doing.

Once outside, Winifred dug into her pockets for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. The wind was strong, and even though Winifred stayed near the protection of the castle walls, it blew the flame out several times. Winifred cursed out loud when she failed to light her cigarette for the sixth or seventh time. She was about to angrily storm back inside when she remembered a spell. Lighting a cigarette with the tip of her wand was a bit unconventional, perhaps, but she was a witch after all, and why use muggle contraptions when she could do the same with magic. With a chuckle, she took her wand out of the pocket of her jacket and quickly muttered the incantation.

She leant back against the stone walls and took a drag, observing the surroundings that were covered in darkness, only illuminated by the light of the stars and that of the castle windows. She sighed softly and closed her eyes, perfectly content. It was so nice to be back at Hogwarts, where she could be whoever she wanted to be, and where she didn’t have to constantly watch what she was saying.

She had been outside for less than five minutes, quietly humming to herself, when she noticed something moving in the shadows. There was a distant noise, and then a movement, and shortly after a silhouette passed in front of her. Whatever it was came to an abrupt stop when it saw her. Winifred frowned when the silhouette moved closer, only to recognize seconds later that it was only Sirius Black.

She hadn’t seen him since the day she had been to Grimmauld Place, but she had heard a lot of what had followed that afternoon. Sirius had carried out with his plan of moving out, and everyone still talked about it. People were criticizing him constantly for what he had done, but from what Winifred could see, he was doing well. Even better than that. Apparently, leaving his parents’ house had done him a great lot of good.

“Winnie?” he said, staring at her for a moment.

“Hello Sirius,” she replied quietly.

“You’re alone?”

Winifred smirked. “I don’t know, does it look like there’s someone else here?”

Sirius’ eyes narrowed. For a second, it looked like he was going to come up with a witty retort, but then he simply pointed at the cigarette that she was still holding. “May I?” he asked.

Winifred nodded, and handed him the cigarette. She watched him take a long drag and exhaling softly before he handed it back.

“So…” Sirius began, but when he was about to add something, someone called him from the darkness. James Potter, probably, Winnie thought. It wasn’t hard to guess. Black and Potter were practically inseparable. Sirius’ head turned towards the voice. “Comin’ in a minute!” he shouted back. “Well,” he added, looking back at Winifred. “I’ve got to go. Have a nice evening.”

“Yeah, you too,” Winifred muttered as he disappeared into the darkness, “and goodnight.”

Sirius Black had only just disappeared that a voice called just behind Winifred.

“Since when are you and Black friends?”

She turned her head briefly, catching a glance of Anthony Somerville standing in the entrance of the castle, his dark figure distinctly standing out against the yellowy light.

“Since when is it any of your business?” she asked in return, with a smile that was destined to soften the harshness of her tone. She stepped away from the wall and walked towards him. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Don’t you have a feast to attend?”

“I didn’t know that the two of you even talked to each other,” Anthony continued, disreagarding her last remark. His face showed that he was torn between curiosity and annoyance. The latter seemed to win eventually, as Anthony added after a moment: “It’s Sirius Black, for Merlin’s sake.”

For some of the students at Hogwarts, that simple phrase, ‘It’s Sirius Black, for Merlin’s sake’, would have held an undertone of admiration. After all, Black had a way of charming his way through life, and many people looked up to him. But when Anthony Somerville said it, the phrase clearly possessed a disapproving tone.

Winifred frowned, not liking the conversation at all. “Well,” she replied curtly, “that just goes to show that you don’t know everything. If you must know, I’ve known Black since childhood.”

That last part, though in essence true, was a little bit of an exaggeration. While Winifred had indeed known Sirius Black since she was a child, it was not true that they were friends, not by any means. During the course of the last five years, she had not talked to him for longer than ten minutes.

“My family is an old pureblood family,” Winifred added, glaring at Anthony, “just like the Black family. It’s only logical that we’ve always frequented the same circles and came in frequent contact with each other.”

That again was a bit of a lie. Sirius Black had stopped frequenting these circles ages ago, whilst she, though often reluctantly, continued to do so.

“I know that,” Anthony replied angrily.

Her words had been designed to annoy him, and it had worked. The Somervilles didn’t go back centuries, and they certainly weren’t as influential as, say, people like the Malfoys, the Blacks, or even the Willows. And even the complete purity of their blood was not completely certain. This last point did not matter to Winifred. But it did to Anthony, and he didn’t like to be reminded of it, even if it was only hinted at.

“Well, then, where’s the problem?” Winifred glared at him until he felt forced to look away. She didn’t often use the influential status of her family to take advantage of someone, but there were moment when it was really useful. And in this particular case, she certainly did not regret it. It was too late and she was too tired to put up with Anthony’s crap. Not to mention the fact that she had expected him to write during the summer.

“Sorry,” he grumbled, nearly inaudibly, then: “Do you want to take a walk?”

“No,” she stated categorically, “it’s way too cold out there. I’d rather go back inside. Besides, if you’re hoping that I’ll let you shag me later tonight…”

Anthony’s ears turned an alarming shade of red and he had the decency to look embarrassed. “I was never suggesting…”

“Good, cause let me tell you right now that it’s not going to happen. Now, if you could just move over, I’ve got stuff to do.”

Anthony’s embarrassed looked quickly transformed into an offended one. “If I remember correctly,” he snarled after a short silence, “you weren’t always that prude.”

If it was meant to offend her, it was a fail. Winifred just shrugged carelessly. “Perhaps. But I really don’t fancy you tonight.”

A surge of pride made Anthony’s eyes spark. “I’ll have you know that I’m a prefect, I could report you for sneaking out. As I could your little friend Sirius Black.”

“And yet, you’re not going to do a thing,” she stated, deadly serious. “Are you?”

Anthony seemed to be on the verge of retorting something, but suddenly he changed his mind and carefully chose to retreat. “Alright, let’s relax. I’m sorry. We could go to the Slytherin common room and sort this out, if you know what I mean. We’d be more comfortable there. I’ve missed you over the summer,” he said in an attempt to appease her.

Winnie’s answer was categorical. “No, I’m tired, I’m going to bed. If you want to relax, I’d suggest you try Ruby Wilkes. She’d be more than happy to help you relax.”

Having said that, she left him there and headed straight to the Ravenclaw tower with the firm intention of doing exactly what she had said she’d do. She had no intention whatsoever of putting up with anyone else’s bullshit that evening.

When she arrived in her room, there was only one other girl who was already there. Marissa was already sitting on her bed, reading a book.

“Who’s Jack Kerouac?” Winifred enquired, peaking at the name on the cover as she sat down on her own bed and took off her shoes. “And where’s everyone else?”

“Muggle writer,” answered Marissa distractedly, glancing up from the tattered book before resuming her reading. “Dorcas is down in the common room, making sure that the first years have everything they need,” she added after a moment. “Penelope’s probably with that Hufflepuff girl, or she was last time I saw her, and I bet Maggie’s off with a boy somewhere. But where were you? One moment you’re at the table with us, and the next you’ve disappeared completely…”

“I just went out for a smoke,” Winifred said.

“A very long one, then.”

“Oh, well, I met a couple of people on the way.”

Marissa put her book away, and turned to face her friend, who was now sitting on her bed with her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin resting on her knees. “Anything wrong, Freddie?” she asked. “You sound weird…”

“No, it’s nothing. Just thinking…”

“About?” Marissa waited for an answer, a kind look in her eyes.

Her friend sighed. “Family, to be honest. The usual. How can I get them to approve of who I am, without changing who I am? And also, what happens if I don’t grow out of this phase where all that they do disgusts me. And it doesn’t help that I ran into Anthony earlier, and sometimes, he really, really annoys me. When he speaks I feel like I’m just hearing the same crap that my parents occasionally say. I thought… I don’t know, I genuinely thought that there was something else about him. I’m sorry to bother you with this. I don’t even know what I’m complaining about.”

Marissa stayed silent for a moment before saying, suspiciously cheerfully: “Anthony’s a wanker. I’ve always hated him.”

“You hate him because he’s a Slytherin, which should not be a good enough reason to hate someone,” Winifred said, shaking her head.

“I hate him because he’s a wanker,” Marissa said, in a tone that brooked no reply. “He really is, and I don’t know what this thing that you’ve got with him is, but as your friend, I feel obliged to say that I disapprove.”

Winifred shrugged her shoulders. “We don’t have ‘a thing’,” she explained. “We’re simply seeing each other from time to time.”

“I get that, what I don’t get is why him.”

Again, she shrugged. “Dunno. Because, I guess, because he’s rather easy on the eye, he’s nice to me – well, he is most of the time – and that my parents approve of him, most of all. It avoids a lot of drama, believe me. It’s not like any of us loves the other, but, I don’t know, we don’t dislike each other either, and we’re only just having fun anyway.”

Before she could add anything more, the door was opened rather forcefully, and Penelope Bennett and Margaret Burrows, two of the three girls who also shared the room, entered. The first one was shaking her head, the second was smiling brightly.

“Hi Mags,” Winifred said, eager to change the subject of the conversation to something that she would feel more comfortable with. “How was your holiday?”

Margaret Burrows smiled brightly. “Hey, Freddie, Marissa,” she said, going from one to the other to hug them. “It’s been too long. My summer was great, thanks. How was yours?”

“You know, same old,” Winifred replied, shrugging.

“Fine,” Marissa said, “we went to Spain, like always.”

“Oh, right,” Maggie said, sitting down on her own bed. “How are your grandparents? Still not getting the whole witch thing?”

Marissa laughed lightly. “Still not getting it,” she said, “and they’re fine, thanks for asking.”

“Hey, anyone want to know what I’ve notice earlier on the train?” Margaret asked, pushing a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, her smile growing even wider.

“Please, don’t get her started.” Penelope’s head emerged from her trunk into which she was rummaging. “It’s going to be about a boy, and you know that she can’t be stopped once she starts talking.”

Maggie stuck out her tongue before returning her attention towards Marissa and Winifred. She wriggled her eyebrows. “C’mon, I know you’re curious…”

“If it’s that, then I think I’m going to pass,” Winifred said, lying down.

“Thanks you,” Penelope’s voice echoed from a corner of the room. “Thank you.”

“Well, I’m going to ask,” Marissa said, “just because I’m actually curious…”

“Benji Fenwick,” Maggie said with a glimmer in her eyes.

“And there it starts,” Penelope said.

“I was not talking to you, Penelope,” Margaret replied, the dreamy look not leaving her face. “It’s not because you’re not interested in boys that Marissa and Freddie aren’t. And they might be interested to know that Benji Fenwick got really, really fit over the summer.”

Penelope eventually emerged from her trunk, victoriously clutching a book on quidditch tactics. She shrugged her shoulders before she threw herself on her bed. She quickly cast Marissa and Winifred a look that said ‘I’ve warned you’ before she opened her book. “I know you’re not talking to me, Mags,” she said. “And you’re damn right, I’m not interested.”

Maggie did not seem offended. That type of banter was usual between her and Penelope, and if it might have sounded like bickering to someone who wouldn’t know the two girls, anyone who actually knew them knew that it was their form of communication, and that they were as close as they could possibly be.

“Actually,” Winifred chimed in, “I can’t say I’m that interested either. Not because I don’t care,” she added quickly, not wanting to hurt Margaret. “But I actually have no idea who the Hell Benji Fenwick is.”

“How can you not know who Benji Fenwick is?” Maggie asked, her eyes widening.

“Well, if he wasn’t fit before the summer, I wouldn’t have noticed him,” Winifred said in an attempt to joke. “But no, seriously, I haven’t got a clue who that is.”

“Freddie’s not the most social person,” Marissa said, offering it as an explanation for her friend’s ignorance. “If said person is not in our year and house, chances are that she hasn’t noticed them.”

“Benji Fenwick,” Maggie said, as if hearing the name again would help Winifred remember.

“Seventh year, Hufflepuff, quite tall,” Marissa added. “And you know, I saw him before the feast, and Maggie’s kind of right, this time. He did get really fit over the summer. His new haircut does wonders.”

Winifred shook her head. “Nope,” she muttered, “still don’t have a clue.”

Penelope came to her rescue. “He’s on the Hufflepuff quidditch team,” she said. “He does kind of have a blank look on his face most of the time, and his teeth are crooked. He’s one of their chasers.”

“If even Penelope knows who he is…” Maggie said.

“I see now,” said Winnie. “But if you had begun with Hufflepuff chaser rather than really fit, I would’ve known immediately. Thanks Penny for providing the only useful description.”

“My pleasure,” Penelope said, putting her book down. “Now, could we please talk about something else than boys until Dorcas shows up and we can all go to sleep?”