STARLIT SUPERNOVA. h. potter

iv. Hogsmeade (Or Lack Thereof)

starlit supernova
❛ iv. hogsmeade ❜

━━━━━ NOVA NEVER THOUGHT of herself as an irritable person, but things were swiftly changing her mindset. Things only kept going downhill, and nothing seemed to be going her way.

               Now, being irritable wasn't a Hufflepuff trait, but it technically wasn't any trait for the four Houses. Besides, there were plenty of irritable Slytherins roaming the halls, infecting others with their horrible energies. Her third year was off to a great start — little to no leads when it came to her birth mother, and this dog that was an omen of death kept stalking her. (Really, a good start.) And the one lead she might have regarding her mother seemed to be completely bogus. It shouldn't have been as shocking as it was, but it still left a nasty taste in her mouth.

               It was also proving impossible to meet with the Headmaster Dumbledore. Which Nova expected, but again, that was just another nasty taste she had to swallow down.

               "Please, Professor Sprouts," Nova pleaded after the end of her Herbology lesson.

               "I'm sorry, Miss Holloway." The Herbology professor shook her head. "Unless you have an appropriate reason to meet with the Headmaster, I can't give you the password."

               "But I do!" insisted the Hufflepuff.

               Professor Sprouts placed her hands on her hips. "And what would that reason be?"

               Nova paused. "Er ... it's sort of a private matter, Professor."

               Sprouts shook her head as she pursed her lips. "Then I'm sorry, Miss Holloway," she repeated. "I can't give you the password."

               She watched her Head of House bustle around the greenhouse with a sour expression. Professor Sprouts was cleaning up for the next class, perhaps for some first years. She debated whether or not to tell Professor Sprouts the truth, wondering if the professor would take pity. Maybe she should cry, that was always a good way to get pity.

               "Professor Sprouts," she spoke up. "I want to talk to Dumbledore because of this letter from my birth mother."

               The Herbology teacher stopped, holding onto four clay pots. "Birth mother?" she asked.

               "Yes." The black-haired girl nodded. She looked away, hoping her expression looked as hopeless as she felt. "It's the only thing I have from her and I think Dumbledore may know something."

               "But ..." Professor Sprouts trailed off. She looked at Nova closer. "I thought you had ..."

               Nova leaned against a dirty table. "I was adopted, Professor," she said glumly. Her shoulders were slumped. "And my birth mum said I would receive that letter on my eleventh birthday, the day I would receive my letter from Hogwarts. The reason I want to talk to Dumbledore is because ..." She trailed off, frowning. "I think he kept the letter for those eleven years. He may know who my real mum is."

               The professor picked up another muddy clay pot and tucked it in the fold of her arm. She looked at the student cloaked in a yellow and black scarf. "I will have to talk to the headmaster, Miss Holloway. He's a busy man."

               Nova tried her best not to smile. "As long as you try, Professor. That's what matters to me."

               At least she had gotten somewhere with that. Now she was tasked with surviving her classes. And as it was, that task wasn't going too well. Defense Against the Dark Arts was going well, but Nova still tried to avoid Professor Lupin to the best of her ability. She didn't want him asking any questions that pertained to her boggart.