in bloom : golden trio era

02

Dementors, Emily learned soon, were foul creatures that sucked away joy and brought back the worst memories-- but to her it was nothing more than a horrible feeling of cold.

Remus John Lupin, the new DADA professor, speculated it was thanks to one of her crystals, and actually made a point to discuss crystals with the rest of the faculty and research into the history of usage of crystals. She beamed at him, relieved that at last a professor in this school was not dismissing her crystals, and her joy was returned tenfold in his eyes.

Something about her, obviously, made him much happier than other students did- Hermione scowled about this, since the professor practically ignored some of Harry's questions to asked Emily about her crystals.

When the train finally did stop- after arriving to Hogwarts, and not due to another dementor attacking them- it took a mere moment for Emily to escape and make her way back to the sanity of the Hufflepuffs. 

She followed her friends, catching up to them and telling them all about the new DADA professor, who seemed very nice and went as far as tell Zara she's found her new professor-idol. 

"Dude, you've gotta let go of Flitwick, it's weird how you are always so into the subject because of him." Emily flushed dark red and shook her head.

"No, I'm just really into charms."

"You've been studying the book for sixth years last year," Zara sighed. "No one does that."

"I just like charms," she mumbled with red still tinting her cheeks, when Draco Malfoy snickered loudly from somewhere behind her.

"Hey, Emily, they say Potter's fainted! Is that for real?" the blonde girl turned to look at the pale Slytherin. Draco Malfoy, of course, came from a wealthy and ancient family, and for some reason she was not aware of despised Harry Potter. Once, Emily hinted to Zara that she thinks a will to be closer and the fear of being denied stood behind that hatred- Zara then started a rumor Draco Malfoy is in love with Harry Potter, because she loved reading between the lines in the worst way possible.

"Who said that?"

"Does it matter? Is it true, or isn't it?"

Emily's warm eyes glared daggers at the pale boy, and she could see how slowly his ears turned pink at the ends. "The dementors entered our compartment, and nothing much happened besides the fact that the new DADA teacher used his Patrunous to get rid of it. We all got pretty freaked out, but nothing much happened."

He scowled, and so did his friendly goons. 

"Longbottom's spouting nonsense again. Just as well he could've been a squib and it would be better for all of us," he huffed, just as they crossed the gate. The groundkeepers, Filch, eyed him nastily but said nothing.

Emily had her doubts before about Filch being a squib, but she rolled her eyes at Draco regardless of whether or not the man had magic. 

"Malfoy, squib is not an insult. Just like how being a pure-blood is not a prize."

"You've always been ridiculous, Johns." he shot back rather hastily.

"Watch your words, Malfoy," she said bitterly, her eyes sharp and mouth turned down in a scowl. "And respect people for once, because you're nothing special."

And with that, Emily hurried her steps and left the Slytherin group behind her scowling. Emily Johns was a bizarre character in the school- yes, everybody knew.

She had brilliant mind for most subjects, and never failed to help her fellow students. Charms was a particularly strong suit for her, and unfortunately for some of the other students, she never feared using them when she was annoyed. But additionally to those facts- she was very strange. She meditated at the grounds often, and a favorite spot was right at the entrance of the forbidden forest. She was vegetarian and vowed to be vegan once she is 15, because she did want to grow a bit, and despite asking the House Elves for help with vegan replacements, they were very surprised it was even a word.

But strangest of all- she always managed to shut everyone around her up if she only tried.

She made a name to herself very quickly into her first year by shutting up Gilderoy Lockhart, the previous DADA teacher, who was nothing more than a pretty face filled with pretty lies behind him.

And now, Emily Johns was somehow one of the most known face in the corridors at the moment, and it wouldn't be correct to say she was well-liked. Nor hated, truthfully. Emily was nothing less and nothing more than just Emily.

Zara, attached to her hips at times, was the only one who could tell you more than a few sentences about Emily. And she was the only one to see the Virgo and Leo in her show brightly, but of course, Zara wasn't that good with Astrology. When she told her mother (who professionally worked with Astrology and went as far as invent a spell for a monthly newspaper for the witch- Matilda's Pen- that showed for the first person to press his wand into the box a very accurate astrology report. The only problem was you could never know which, it could give you a rundown about your character, the next day, the rest of your life, or previous days. You had to try and see for yourself) about Emily though, her mother guessed her placements in such a perfect way Zara freaked out.

"I'm starving," Emily muttered, and Zara nodded at her side. "You too?" she nodded again. Sometimes Zara envied how Emily knew what she wanted. At times, Zara would cry at her bed, and Emily would tell her exactly what she needed to do. Not in a way that made Zara feel small, simply in a way that made Zara either see for herself what was the problem, or in a gentle and loving way.

Emily and her were the same age, more or less, but Emily felt like an older sister, and Zara, who tried to be the best older sister for her two siblings, was envious and adoring.

And Emily's smile- when it was genuine- was the easiest way to find happiness for Zara.

But the strangest thing was- that anyone close to Emily felt the same.

To some people, Emily was like a sun in a soft summer day. Not in a way that everything revolved around her- though sometimes, things became very easy when you allowed things to be in Emily's hands- but in a way the her warmth hugged you and made you trust the world had a way of working out.

And as they stepped into the Great Hall, a new person looked at Emily like that.

Zara glared, but the man never moved his gaze from the pretty blonde a step ahead of her. Flitwick's eyes lightened up as he saw her stepping in, and unaware of another professor staring like that, he jumped up and walked over to the Hufflepuff table.

Many people thought it was odd he favorited someone outside of his own House like that, but they were joyous to be reunited. 

"Your gift Ms. Jones," Flitwick sighed in relief as he reached into his small bag. "Is here," he smiled, and he pulled a book bigger than the bag itself. He expanded the bag with magic, of course. A useful charm he taught her in a Friday evening when he was attempting to perfect a new spell he's heard of. 

"Thank your professor," she smiled widely at the man, reaching out a hand to grab it, "appreciated greatly." It was an advanced spell book, intended for seventh years and adult wizards mostly. 

"But," he warned, moving the book back an inch. "You will have to get a wooden wand to use it."

She frowned, "I didn't bring one with me."

"I suspected that much," he smiled. "I sent an owl to your parents earlier today, they will send back your wand sometimes this week. Just promise you won't use it before you do get it."

"I promise. Thanks professor," she mumbled, taking the book into her hands.

Of course, she had a wooden wand and even used it for the first few months of school last year, but one night she accidentally used the crystal wand she kept by her side for peace, and the spell worked so effortlessly she was surprised. 

"Take care Emily."

"You too, sir."

And so, she turned around to look at the grand door. Any moment now, the new students would stumble in, and she would no longer be one of the youngest in the school. It would be a relief, and she smiled wide.

"To a year we won't nearly die," she whispered into her selenite pendant, who sparked with mischief. 

Something big was waiting.