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Beyond Charms	By : Evania Category: Harry Potter > FemSlash - Female/Female Views: 7730 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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She assured that her carry bag was nestled securely between her feet before settling to the feast, doing her best to ignore the other students around her. She didn’t feel particularly social at the best of times, and this certainly wouldn’t be what she considered among the best. The people around her all seemed to be excited to be back at the school, many curious eyes peering down the table at her, though the haughty sneers of a nearby blonde boy seemed to keep their questions and pestering at bay. She might have been grateful, had he not turned that sharp nose and chin in her direction and offered a lewd, sinister smile. She was no stranger to the dark street of London’s premier wizard shopping area, and had seen plenty more frightening than the snooty blonde, but the gaze that he sent up and down what he could see of her body made her skin crawl. Perhaps she should have conversed with the stupid powder.

Despite the sickening looks of the arrogant snit nearby, the burning curiosity and nosiness of the rest of the students who took any notice of her, and the fate of being suck at the damnable school instead of learning directly under Master L'Fidèle, dinner was not terrible. The feast that spread the table was utterly fantastic, fresh, and contained a delicious variety she had not seen elsewhere. Though she did not eat as primly as the creepy blonde boy, or wolf her food down as some of the others nearby seemed to be doing, she eat slowly, neatly, and had her fill. Dessert was just as astounding, and ignoring the occasional snobbish titter from her peers, or prying question, she managed to get to the Deachire dorms without much fuss.

“You saw… Mallevan was looking at her like a prize git.” One of the other girls tittered. “What do you bet her family’s old blood too.”

She ignored the sniggers of the other five girls in her dorm, instead snapping her wand at the bunk beds that they were to make do with. A simple hex split the top bunk from the bottom, and though she privately struggled with the control of the spell, she managed to levitate that bit off and to the floor. By that point, the others had silenced, and were simply watching in shock. Contemplating the two bed pieces, she chose the one that still contained the posts that had once held the second bed, and performed another levitation charm. It was an effort, but L'Fidèle had forced her to master that charm in particular, beyond the others she’d needed to know under his tutelage. At last the chosen bed, and and her trunk, had been moved to one wall, out of the way of the others, though the bunk being separated as it was did make the room a bit more cramped.

“You can’t do that.” One of the girls finally snapped, her tone nasal and doing nothing to make Lyllith want to listen any further.

“Obviously, I already have.” She drawled, the first words she’d spoken since entering the castle. It seemed to give the snobby girls pause, and she turned to level them with a dark glare. “This castle obviously contains more than enough room, and rooms, to house everyone and everything within. It is no fault of mine that the head of this… house… does not deign to assign enough of them as dorms for us. I do not sleep above, below, or directly adjacent, to anyone… especially any of you. If you insist on staring, you may do so, as I care not a bit about how you spend your time lest it interferes with my own.” Silently, she spun again, and proceeded to bewitch, hex, and curse the various bits of supply and furniture that comprised of her tiny area of the room. When she had done, her bed was near glowing with the magic she’d cast on it, slowly fading into looking like an ordinary bunk once more. With a flick and incantation, she set a spare change of sheets to blocking off the bed and bunk, and transfigured them to silky gray curtains. The other girls continued to stare.

“I thought you were a fourth year, like us.” One of them sneered behind her, a steadier, angrier voice than the first. Initially, Lyllith did not respond, and only when she heard the other girl clear her throat did she turn to trade glares.

“I distinctly remember that severe looking woman instructing that it was no business, or query, of the other students about what my lesson levels were.” She sneered at the girls, then turned and disappeared behind her curtains.

~

She’d learned that first night that the creepy blonde boy was apparently named Mallevan. The next day, however, as class schedules were distributed to the students at breakfast, she learned that his full name was Dylan Herron Mallevan, and that he was the heir of the Mallevan pureblood family. She ignored most of the remainder of his babble, groaning as she realized that two of her class blocks matched his. He droned on, at length, and the bits she caught seemed to be the same blather about the purity of his blood, the wealth of his family, or his supposed prowess with magic and Quiddich. She heard him continuing in that vein even as she pushed away from the table and moved off to her first class of the day, apparently not having noticed her leaving at first.

“Lyllith!” His surprised, arrogant tone made her bored expression briefly slide into a sneer, and she continued walking. “Lyllith where are you going?” A long breath left her lips, and she continued to ignore him. “Fourth year Deachires have history in the same dungeon corridor as my potions class.” He’d caught up, and was leering at her. “Skipping first day are you? You’ll lose the house points.”

“I haven’t fourth year History for this block.” She drawled at him finally as he continued trotting next to her, still with that leering smile. If he thought it foolish enough to skip and lose house points enough to warn her about it, why was he continuing along with her instead of going to his own class. He was grinning more broadly at her words though.

“Your voice is as lovely as you are, dear.” Dylan swept around to stand in front of her. “Is that a Romanian accent? What class have you?”

“No, it is not Romanian.” She replied in annoyance, slipping around him as he watched her intently. “Go away, Mallevan.”

He did leave, to her relief, though only for the morning. When the lunch hour came, he was once again seated directly next to her, though silent this time. “Lyllith, Zerrod Feklin claims that you were in his first block class.” Silent for a few moments at least. She ignored him again, casually sliding several slices of roast beef to her plate. “Perhaps you did not notice your housemate there… were you in Advanced Herbology II this morning?”

She let out a sigh and turned to slowly look at him. “Yes. Please go away.” Her tone was less than polite, and she turned again to her food, hoping that his curiosity had been assuaged. Her confirmation only seemed to excite him more, and whispers took over what had been an oddly silent section of the Deachire table.

“I must admit that I have never heard of the Reese bloodline before, though they must be a powerful family where you are from.” Her cheek twitched, and breathing out slowly to keep calm, she felt her grip tighten on her fork. “You’ve certainly the lovely features of a pureblood, and no Mudbl…”

“You will be silent, Mallevan. You know nothing of my family.” Her sneering tone silenced the whispers nearby, and several people eagerly looked on for his response. Two particularly burly boys looked a little confused as to what they were supposed to do with her talking back to the annoying blonde boy like that.

“Oh, I was not insulting them, Lyllith dear. Few pureblood families indeed could afford a mentor and tutor of a level to make you on par to Advanced Herbology II in your fourth year, and fewer still could attain the private mentorship permits from the Ministry.” He smiled broadly. “I’m sure my father has at least met someone of your line.”

“Doubtful,” she snarled, cutting angrily into a large, dark roll before stuffing as much of her roast beef slices into the slit, as well as some glazed carrots, and standing. “I will be as clear as possible, and speak slowly in the hope that your feeble, inbred brain can understand: Leave me alone, Dyllan Mallevan.”

She found that her request was either not understood or, more likely, ignored. After their brief discussion of just which class she’d had first in the morning, the Deachire students within her next seemed confused with her presence. It was with an annoyed huff that she found herself seated between Dylan and some boy from that Featherfly house they were sharing the class with. The Featherfly boy looked at her in somewhat fearful curiosity before turning his studious attention back to the front; Dylan, however, leaned uncomfortably close. “Lyllith, this is a third year class.”

“I’m sure she’s aware of that M- Mallevan.” The Featherfly said, stammering at the end as he caught Dylan’s glare. She refrained from looking at either of them. “Don’t you even think?”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean, Jefferson?” Dylan snarled, his tone low as the ghost that taught the class hovered in.

“She was under a private mentor. Her knowledge and scores will be scattered in skill level according to what he was good at.” Jefferson hissed, trying not to look at Dylan. The moment he did, he began stammering again. “It’s o-o-obvi-vi-ous.”

“Shut it, bookworm.” The blonde boy snapped, and she saw the Featherfly wince out of the corner of her eye. The ghost was beginning to drone on about some goblin war or another, and she glanced at the dusty, old tome that stood as the class’s assigned text. If she were better at charms, she’d set one to transcribing the boring lecture and ignore the old book, but she had a feeling that it would become necessary if she was bored to sleep, or pestered by Mallevan, through every lesson. “Is that true, Lyllith darling? Your mentor was just particularly good at Herbology? That Lupinus bumbler Bobblynook is good at Herbology, and he’s nothing more than a fool.”

Lyllith’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t say anything. Likely, if she let her say something, she’d end up hexing the idiot. Jean L'Fidèle was nothing near being a fool. Perhaps sometimes foolish, but not actually a fool. He was one of the most brilliant potions wizards she had ever met, and skill with Herbology had helped not only him with that, but herself as well. “Five points from Deachire for chattering.” Moaned the ghostly instructor, and Dylan growled, sinking in his seat.

“D-do you n-need to b-be directed to your n-next class?” Jefferson stammered, staring wide eyed at her as Dylan fixed a few stray hairs that had fallen askew as he dozed through the lecture. Lyllith ignored both of them as she settled the heavy tome into her carry bag, grateful for the space enhancing charm Master L'Fidèle had set on it when she had been accepted to the academy.

Finally, stood with the bag’s strap over her shoulder, she turned a barely cold look on the stammering boy. He wasn’t so terrible, beyond being rather a coward, though the flinch he gave when her eyes settled on him only proved to make him a bit more annoying than before. “No. I know the location of the Potions chambers very well, thank-you.” She paused, and then sighed. “You labeled the date of the last battle wrong twice in your notes. Fourty-five, not fifty-four.”

As she spun to stalk away, she saw the stunned, and even more frightened, look on the boy’s face left behind with a smirking blonde brat. “Tha-tha-tha…”

“That what, Jefferson. You’re a bloody coward, you know.” Dylan snapped.

“My brother is in Potions next.” Jefferson finally squeaked. She didn’t slow her walk long enough to know if Dylan knew who the boy’s brother was, or what that meant. This was the only class she had looked forward to since entering the damned school. Evan Master L'Fidèle sang Professor Kine’s praises as a potions genius. They’d met with him twice over the summer holiday, to test her knowledge and assure her a place in his classes. Professor Kine would be the only familiar face at this stupid Academy, and his prowess almost made it worth leaving the home and teaching that had been a comfort to her over so many years.

“Master Kine.” She bowed upon entering the chamber, unable to keep the hint of a smile from her lips. The tall, pale man smirked at her, stringy hair hanging loosely around his face, hooked nose and beady eyes standing out against the pallid color of his skin. It was reminiscent of too long spent in dungeons, and not enough time outside. “Where would you please that I sit?”

“The front corner if you would, Miss Reese.” His smirk did not leave, and she privately hoped that it was because he already favored her. “I was proud to see that the sorting powder settled you within my House, Miss Reese. It looked for several moments as if you would be placed in… Lupinus.”

The distaste in his tone was obvious, and she decided against commenting, simply offering what was supposed to be a shy smile in return. It was an expression unfamiliar to her face, at least when she was attempting to put it there, and she could tell that he knew it was forced. Turning to her carrying bag, she fetched a brown paper wrapped parcel from within, settling it onto the desk near where he could reach it. “Professor Rhoote asked I deliver a sample of the needle vine sap we collected today.”

“Ah yes, there was mention that you were attending that class as well.” He droned, picking up the parcel and looking at it thoughtfully. “Did she say whose collections this sample came from?”

“Yes, sir. Her own, mine, a Featherfly named Volas, and a Deachire named Zerit.” She nodded and watched as a single, black brow arched high on his forehead.

“She included her own sample?” He asked finally, watching the girl oddly.

“Yes sir. There was not another pure one from our lesson. The others were clouded with the excretions of the exterior of the vines.” She moved to begin setting up her cauldron and scales, debating between the pewter, copper, and bone. “Which cauldron will I be needing today, sir?”

“We only use pewter and copper in this class.” Kine offered without sounding much concerned, settling the package on a shelf without opening it, and ignoring the other students scurrying in and to their seats. Several of the older teens stared at her in fascination, though none dared to interrupt the Professor as he spoke to her. “The Academy has a policy against teaching any potions which specifically require the use of a bone or ivory cauldron.”

“Veritaserum requires that, though, sir.” She said in a quiet tone. Obviously not quiet enough, as murmurs began from the other students. Kine smiled proudly at her.

“As you are attending this class years early, Miss Reese, if you are capable of passing, I am able to attain permission to instruct you, privately, off grounds during your sixth and seventh years.” He paused, then looked idly around before leaning against his desk and addressing her again. Class was supposed to have started by then, but she supposed that he was enjoying taunting the other students. “Are you already capable of creating Veritaserum, Miss Reese.”

“Yes sir, though I would not trust it to not be disturbed by my dorm mates were I to attempt it here.” She performed an extra Scourgify on her pewter cauldron, seeing that the others had settled theirs on the desks, instead of copper.

“Fifty points to Deachire. Twenty-five for Miss Reese’s diligence in extra study, twenty-five for her proper preparation and care of her tools.” Here he glanced sternly out at the others, who promptly began to Scourgify their cauldrons, check the balance of their scales, and putter with their tools. “If you would be capable of notifying me of any advanced level potions you were brewing, I can assign a private chamber to you for study and homework, Miss Reese.” She nodded eagerly, completely forgetting all semblance of dignity at the prospect of Professor Kine allowing her a private potions chamber to work in. “The same goes to any Advanced level student that is capable of proving themselves proficient enough to work without supervision.” It would have hurt that slight sense of pride she had gotten from his offer, had he not sounded blatantly skeptical that they could achieve such a feat.

The class went well, especially when she realized that she was the only student with a copper cauldron, and earned another proud smile and selection of house points for pulling it out once he described the properties of the potion they were to work on, and listed the ingredients. Two of the students exited barely in front of her, their uniform ties in the house colors of Lupinus and Featherfly, Professor Kine sneering at the both of them as they gossiped while leaving. “Bugger it’s just not fair. He’s favoring her just because she’s in Deachire. Twenty-five points for cleaning her cauldron! And that simpering grin he gave her over her second cauldron!”

“Favoring her? He bloody well should!” The Featherfly exclaimed, slapping the whining boy across the shoulder merrily. “Did you see her potion? It was perfect! Absolutely, bloody, perfect! I’m writing home for a copper cauldron, and spending the dinner meal looking up the suggested parameters for each cauldron type. Did you hear him, Mike? Bone! There are potions that require cauldrons made from bone!”

“Or ivory. Bone cauldrons sound like dark magic.” She could hear Mike’s nose wrinkle in his voice, and shook her head.

“Ivory is a type of bone, you nit. Fancy bone… or close enough at least. I wonder why the academy doesn’t let him teach that on school grounds?” She silently trailed them, noting that they were heading toward the meal hall.

“Because it’s probably dark magic.” Mike insisted. “They’re made of bone, Finks. Bone.”

“Oh, we’ve powdered up enough bone and used it as ingredient enough for you to be over that by now. No one said it had to be human bone the cauldron was made of.” Finks laughed, slapping him on the shoulder again. “And Veritaserum. You know that’s not dark magic. That… that kid knows how to make it too! Blimey I wonder why she isn’t in my house.”

“Because she uses bone cauldrons.” Mike pouted, and she sighed, hanging back a bit. Nothing about the Professor, or any mention of how to get new supplies or tools directly to school, instead of ‘writing home’ about it.

TBC
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Beyond Charms