in his wake | t.r [ongoing]

Chapter 2 - Romona Greengrass

Chapter 2

Romona Greengrass 

Romona Greengrass leaned against the cold stone archway of the Slytherin common room; her dark curls framed her face, falling in tight waves over her shoulders, and her brown eyes, warm in colour but sharp in expression, scanned the room with a mixture of irritation and boredom. Like many of her family, she carried herself with an effortless elegance, her high cheekbones and straight nose lending her a proud air, though her patience was thinning. She was meant to read by the lake with her friends, enjoying the rare September sunshine before the term took hold. Instead, she was here, playing tour guide to some orphan first-year.

The idea of escorting a first-year around the castle was an inconvenience at best and an insult at worst. Romona was fourteen - a fourth year - nearing her O.W.L examinations and had far more important things to do than play tour guide. But Professor Dumbledore had asked, and the man had a way of making even the most trivial tasks seem significant.

The Slytherin common room was unusually calm. The green light from the lake outside flickered across the dark stone walls, its glow reflected in the polished brass fixtures that lined the room. The faint murmurs of older students gathered near the fireplace filled the air, blending with the soft rustling of pages from a few diligent early risers.

"You'll find him interesting," Dumbledore had said, his tone as maddeningly cryptic as ever. She respected him, of course—everyone did—but this felt beneath her.

She tapped her fingers against her arm, glancing toward the dormitory doors with a sigh. The boy emerged just then, stepping into the common room with the same calm precision she might have expected from an older student. His robes were slightly too large, as though they'd been hastily altered. His hair was neatly combed, his posture stiff and self-assured, but it was his eyes that caught her attention. Dark and sharp, they seemed to take in every detail of the room, lingering on the clusters of students before locking onto her.

"Miss Greengrass?" he asked, his voice smooth and steady. He didn't mumble or fidget like some first-years. Instead, he moved toward her deliberately, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. He was tall for his age. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting."

Romona raised an eyebrow. Most first-years stammered and apologised in her presence, but not this one. She straightened, schooling her face into a polite smile. "Romona will do," she said, motioning toward the exit. "Come on. The castle's big, and we've got a lot to cover."

He nodded, falling into step beside her as they left the common room.

They crossed the threshold into the dungeon corridors, leaving behind the murmur of the common room. The air grew cooler, and the low torchlight cast long shadows across the walls. Romona moved quickly, her heels clicking against the stone floor. She didn't bother to check if he was keeping up—his pace matched hers effortlessly.

"I imagine you've already seen the essentials," she began. "The Great Hall, the dormitories, the entrance to the kitchens."

"Some," he said, his tone neutral. "But not everything."

His answer was short, but there was no trace of impatience—only intent. Romona glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He kept his gaze forward, his expression impassive, but there was something about him she couldn't place. A quiet confidence that didn't match his shabby robes, young age or newness to the castle.

"That's the Potions classroom," she said, gesturing to a heavy oak door. "Professor Slughorn teaches there. He's the head of Slytherin House—you'll meet him soon enough."