DARK HEARTS

Written by Grace Waterson and Lilia Le Fay

Nadia Volkov and Natasha Grazinsky are no ordinary witches, though no one would guess their true motives. Not unless one gazed deep into their souls. But of course, that would be unadvisable. For these girls have the darkest of hearts…

Chapter Five - Nadia

(Grace Waterson)

“GRYFFINDOR!” ran in my ears as I woke up the next morning, reminding myself that I was split from Natasha for good. It was in no way surprising that I had been put in Slytherin. From what I’d heard, it was the house for “evil” or “dark” witches and wizards - there was no questioning Slytherin was where I belonged. I mean, I was an hours witch. I excelled in dark magic. But so was Natasha.

I had not anticipated either of us being put in any house besides Slytherin, let alone Natasha in Gryffindor. Nadia Volkov; the observed, the analyser, the one who always knew every possible outcome to every possible event had not considered that. Natasha and I were in different houses. How on earth would I manage now?

My dormitory occupied three other girls; Pansy Parkinson, who had a face like a pug and the most irritating giggle on the planet, Millicent Bulstrode, who was built like a wrestler and had the glare to match, and Daphne Greengrass, who kept to herself and her things. As for the other side, there were five Slytherin boys in my year; Draco Malfoy and his two “bodyguards” Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, a tall boy with a long nose named Theodore - or Theo - Nott, and a tall, athletic boy with dark skin and hair named Blaise Zabini.

The problem was - and I wasn’t surprised by it - I didn’t like any of them.

Pansy was too girly, Millicent was too bullish and ignorant. Daphne was too timid and childishly naïve - it was almost like she was a good few years younger than the rest of us.Theodore was a vain, conceited nightmare, and Blaise was pretty similar. Crabbe and Goyle wouldn’t know a spell if it hit them across the face and did nothing besides sucking up to Draco and eating. And then there was Draco; arrogant and self-centered, with an irritating smirk which constantly graced his face. We hadn’t exchanged a single word since our brief conversation on the train, but he was constantly giving me odd looks which irked me to no end as I didn’t know what they meant.

To be honest, I didn’t mind that I didn’t like any of them. I didn’t need - or want - to be “friends” with any of these annoying kids. I was here on a mission, not to get sidetracked. I had Natasha, and I didn’t need anyone else. I was fine on my own. However, I knew Natasha would not take the same line as me; she was bound to show up to our first lesson together babbling on about all the millions of friends she’d made in her “oh-so-wonderful” house. And it wasn’t hard to predict that none of her friends would like me.

I ate my breakfast in a hurry, eager to get away from the noise of the Great Hall which felt like it was pressing down on me from all sides and the laughter I could hear from the Gryffindor table where Natasha was sharing a joke with the Weasley girl. It took all my willpower to reign in my dark magic and not do anything - there were wizards at the staff table who were by far powerful and knowledgeable enough to understand what I’d be doing.

Just as I was about to leave the Great Hall, the very person I never wanted to come into contact with started walking up the Slytherin table, handing out little pieces of paper to every student. Severus Snape. Or perhaps I should say Professor Snape. My Head of House.

So much for him not being able to get to us at Hogwarts, I thought sardonically, remembering my conversation with Natasha at King’s Cross. He made his way down the table, striding purposefully and handing out the pieces of paper - which, I managed to establish, were timetables - the expression on his face one of boredom, as though there were a million others things he’d rather be doing at that moment in time.

I held my breath as he got closer and closer to me, but when he reached me, he repeated the same movement that he’d done for everyone else, handing me a sheet of paper silently and boredly like he did with the rest. Although I didn’t miss the slightly strange look he gave me, he said nothing and simply continued up the table and, after a quick glance at it, I shoved my timetable into my pocket and stood up to leave the Great Hall.

I glanced at the timetable as I made my way down to the dungeons to my dormitory. I had Herbology first, I noticed with a groan. It was set to be a boring morning.

I wasn’t proven wrong. I arrived at the Herbology greenhouse right on time and Professor Sprout came over to me with a smile which I didn’t return. Still, she smiled on nevertheless and started babbling on about how “it’s always nice to have a fresh new face in the crowd!” and “it’s not every day we get foreign students!” and “hopefully you won’t find the lessons too challenging!” and “just let me know if you’re struggling with something!” All the while I stood there, nodding my head but never meeting her gaze, wishing with all my might that she would just shut up.

“Sit yourself down anywhere, we’ll start in a moment,” Professor Sprout finished, turning around and walking back over to the front of the class. Due to the amount she’d rambled on, the greenhouse was now full, and only one space remained. So much for sitting down “anywhere”, I thought with a scowl, as I slowly made my way over to the empty seat and dumped my bag onto the floor with a hard thud, sitting down in my seat and directing a glare at anyone who looked my way.

Professor Sprout clapped her hands together, and the class fell silent. She began to make a speech about how fifth year is OWL year and how we’d all have to work extremely hard and put in “110% effort” as she put it - I made an internal sarcastic remark about how that’s not possible. She went on and on for at least half the lesson, before she decided to tell us what we were going to actually do that lesson.

“For the remainder of this lesson I want to you just go through what you learnt last year. I’ll put some of the main points up on the blackboard and then I want you to talk them through with your partner.” she explained. “Mr Malfoy, would you care to talk Miss Volkov through what we learnt last year?”

Slowly, I turned to face Draco, crossing my arms and looking at him expectantly. Hopefully he’d get this over with quickly, and I could just read through my textbook, or something.

“Does she really think I’ve remembered anything from her useless class?” Draco scoffed, watching Professor Sprout writing the word “Bubotubers” up on the board.

“It seems she does, though why she thinks you have the capability of remembering anything beyond yourself, I have no idea.” I replied, rolling my eyes slightly.

“You and that Gryffindor girl don’t seem to have gotten it into your heads who I am.” he said smoothly, his mouth pressed into a firm line. “You should treat me with more respect, Volkov.”

I let out a little laugh. “Right.” I said sarcastically, “I’ll bear that in mind, Malfoy.”

“See that you do.” he responded, deadly serious, making me roll my eyes. I rummaged around in my bag and pulled out my Herbology textbook, flicking it to a page on Bubotubers - if Draco wasn’t going to tell me anything, I’d teach myself.

“Don’t trust my teaching abilities, do you Volkov?” Draco sneered, pulling the textbook off my lap. I rolled my eyes - yet again - and reached out to grab it, but he kept held of it so we were essentially playing tug-of-war with the book.

“Wow, and you’re supposed to be fifteen.” I said sardonically, pulling the book off him with a firm tug that made it come out of his grip. Just as I flicked it back to the page about Bubotubers, Professor Sprout came up to the two of us.

“Finished explaining, Mr Malfoy?” she asked kindly, and Draco gave me a glare.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it explaining, Professor.” I said matter-of-factly. “I could have gotten more information off Goyle.” Professor Sprout pursed her lips and turned to Draco. I looked down at my textbook and started to read about all the things they learnt about last year, smirking whilst Professor Sprout started on a long rant to Draco about how it was OWL year and so he needed to start working properly.

By the end of the lesson, I was suitably caught up with what I missed, and Professor Sprout finally left Draco to dismiss the class. As soon as she’d gone, Draco glared at me, but I just gave him a smirk to let him know I won.

Chapter Six - Natasha

(Lilia Le Fay)

I had been imagining the conversation with Nadia all of the night before and on and off through most of my classes. I still hadn’t managed to speak to her - we hadn’t shared lessons and she’d gone off at breakfast before I could get to her. But I knew she’d be thinking I was enjoying myself, talking with the Weasleys and even enduring a conversation with the pathetic blob in my year known as Neville Longbottom. Sharing amusing stories in the hot and enclosed Gryffindor common room and laughing with my housemates.

But the truth is - I wasn’t. There had been so many times when I was near to blowing, almost giving in and using dark magic on a huge number of occasions. Yes, my first night and morning had most certainly not been enjoyable.

The trouble was, they were all too friendly. I wasn’t used to the warmth of these people, the general niceties about them. I was used to my cold hearted but understanding friend who was where I heartily wished to be all evening - in Slytherin house.

I’d seen her looking at Snape at breakfast and knew exactly how she had felt about the discovery, despite her face setting in stone once more as soon as she set eyes on him. But I could tell she was feeling horror and shock beneath it all. Much like me. Only I, in the heat of the moment, showed it.

As soon as I’d realised what was happening, I’d turned to Ginevra Weasley, who had been sitting next to me and trying to include me in the conversation, and asked her with more than a little panic in my voice.

‘’Ginevra, who is that man?’’ Despite knowing almost everything about Severus Snape, I had no idea why he was at Hogwarts. Or why we hadn’t been warned about him.

Ginevra had turned from her conversation, red ponytail swinging, and made a face as she follow my gaze and realised who I was talking about. ‘’That’s Professor Snape. He teaches Potions and to be honest is an absolute-’’

‘’Dickhead.’’ Ronald, her brother, had finished. He seemed eager to diss the man, though I didn’t object.

‘’He hates all Gryffindors.’’ Ginevra had continued. ‘’He’ll find any excuse to dock points from us.’’

‘’Especially Harry.’’ Ronald had cut in again, gesturing to his friend, whom I had immediately smiled at by reflex. ‘’For some reason or another.’’

‘’It’s alright if you stay out of his way.’’ Hermione Granger, the one I disliked the least, commented sensibly.’’Just watch out for him, Natasha.’’

I had looked him straight in the eye at that point, knowing he was staring at me. If only he could have heard my honest answer.

‘’Oh, I will.’’

I finished recalling the scene once more and my mind went back to Nadia. I hadn’t seen her all morning and yes, still hadn’t spoken to her. And now, at my first break when we had originally meant to be trying to get in with Harry Potter and his lot, I was sitting in the lonely library, a book resting idly on my lap as I stared into space. A sixth year Hufflepuff passed, asking politely if he could borrow the volume I was neglecting. My answer had been an automatic nod and suddenly I was bereft of ‘Hogwarts, a History’ and left to get up and find something else to skim read whilst I awaited the arrival of my friend. Because I knew she’d come. I’d just have to wait.

Walking between the shelves stacked high with books, however, I found nothing that interested me. Books of runes, tales of bygone ages, accounts of supposedly near-death experiences. None of these attracted me in the least. With a sigh, I turned to look around the library for a section that might harbour something that remotely interested me. Turning my head, I was disappointed - until my eyes spied a sign that hung over a small area that seemed to be made up of only a few shelves of crumbling, forgotten volumes. The notice was labeled ‘Ancient Books’, however, and wondering if I could find a particular guide there, I strode over to the section and began to scour the shelves for the volume of my desire. Sure enough, I found it under the letter ‘W’, and soon, after looking around myself and finding I was contentedly alone, I sat down and began to read, starting with the title. ’Witches of Power: an index of the oldest magical myth’

I couldn’t help but smirk as I read the silver writing, knowing full well that it would be filled with the correct information but the writers had been under the impression that the information they had collected had been elaborate folk tales. I had studied this book as a child and knew it back to front. But, as it was my only connection to my real life (apart from Nadia) at the time, I opened it up and read it anyway.

It was interesting to see what others believed of the supposed tales of my race, although, surprisingly, all of it was accurate.

We’re an all-female race of magical beings, born with different kinds of additional powers according to our bloodlines. How we were created or rather, born, no one except high elders are aware of, but it is commonly known that we were established into main categories and cults in the medieval times. It is also a common fact among us that we were the one who triggered the witch hunts. And it’s true, of course.

Nadia and I are Hours Witches, the darkest of them all. We can influence people around us to feel misery and fear, trigger melancholy and darkness. We can even kill. If we want to.

Using simple but controlled levels of concentration, we create clouds of dark magic, as large as we want, that trigger these dark emotions in people. If we were to direct a flow of this magic at a living creature, we can harm them - and possibly kill. If you have enough power, they will turn into a corpse in front of you very eyes.

And that’s not all we can do - as well as the powerful dark magic held in our hands, we can infest people's mind. We can link people’s thoughts and read their secrets and put images in their heads - images of whatever we want. However, this advanced form of occlumency, though requiring no training, does need at least two witches working on the victim at the same time. And that’s another reason for me and Nadia to be working together.

But there aren’t just hour witches. There are witches for the other colours of the spectrum, all assigned a pallor. We wear only black clothing and suit the tone, with dark or grey eyes, white skin and black hair. Water witches, like my aunt, will have dark blue hair, often mistaken for metamorphmagi, and are always clothed in rich, shaded blue colours like dark sea water. They had manipulate and create water with their hands, also immune to thirst and born with a second language of Mermish.

The list goes on; Fire witches with their fiery orange robes, bright hair and abilities to control flames and provoke lust. Plant witches wearing soft greens and healing flora and fauna alike. Cold ice witches in their pale blue outfits and powers to control the patterns of frost and create sharp, often lethal icicles from thin air. All having their own cult for each country and their own principles to stick to. All female, conceiving with everyday wizards and always producing female offspring before leaving their partners, whether they like it or not, and returning to their cults.

In total there are different species within the global category of our kind; Hour Witches,, Light Witches, Fire Witches, Ice witches, Water witches, Plant Witches, Blood Witches, Air witches and Earth witches. Us hour witches stay separate from the others - we’re to above them to become close, but other races are often found together, for instance the ice and water witches. And sometimes, of course, the genetics fluke and there’ll be twins - only one of the daughters won’t be the same kind of witch as her mother. She’ll be different. Like my aunt. My weak, sill aunt who was sent packing because of the shame she brought to the family. I felt dread swell as my wild mind put myself in her place, but I shook my head to dismiss it. No. It wasn’t going to happen. I was evil, I was an hours witch. I wasn’t weak, I wasn’t like her. Anxiously I tried to reassure myself, and had just closed my eyes and was repeating it when a voice made them flash open once more.

“Tasha?”

For some reason, the sight of Nadia makes all the reassurance sink in. Without think, I jump up and hug her. But then I push her away, looking embarrassed and then curtsying as she stares at me then does the same. Hugging isn’t a thing for our kind. In fact, it’s basically contraband. Typically we greet each other with a formal curtsy or nothing at all. I look up from the bow and she looks at me slightly sorrowfully, her emotion clear this time.

“Tasha.” Her voice was steely, though not targeted at me. “This can’t be right.”

 “I don’t know why it put me there.” I say truthfully - because I was also disgusted and confused at the result of my sorting - very. “I don’t belong in Gryffindor...I hate them. All of them.”

She looked at me carefully, and I felt more hope. . “Then it must have been wrong.” Her referring to the sorting hat as ‘it’ also gave me more hope, as did the spiteful expression that came onto her face a second later. “My housemates are a nightmare as well.” She said with venom. “I thoroughly dislike all of them.”

I nodded - it was understandable. We weren’t brought up to like anyone - or anything - except darkness and evil. This mental statement gave me more strength, however, and I turn to the subject of the mission.

“Have you heard anything of Harry Potter from your classmates?” I ask, leaning back on the shelf.

Nadia smirked. “Only that he’s stupid, arrogant, untalented, pathetic…” She laughed. “The list goes on.”

“Well actually I verify them to be true.” Was my answer, though for some reason it doesn’t feel genuine. Still, Harry annoyed me. Oh so very much.

“And I never contradicted them.” Nadia replied before turning to me again. “How much have you spoken to him, then? We need to start forming a plan.”

“I haven’t spoken to him much.” I admitted. “I mean, his friend Ronald Weasley seems to have invited me into their little gang, most likely because of the obvious-”

“Tasha you have to accept it!” Nadia’s eyes were gleaming now. “This is a brilliant opportunity! Harry Potter’s gang - thats our aim! To be become friends with Harry Potter!”

“I don’t need reminding.” I said sourly, wrinkling my nose. “He’s just….ughhh.”

“Tasha, this isn’t any time for excuses. We are on a mission. Does Gryffindor make you forget your purpose?” Nadia fired back at me, causing an involuntary wave of hurt wash over me. I look over at her, but of course she didn’t apologize. One, because she was Nadia. Two, because she was right. And then it was me apologising. Not in words, but with a tone that highly suggested it.

“Yes.” I put on a determined expression. “Of course. I’ll try and get in with them this lunch time.”

Nadia smiled with malicious pleasure. “Once you’re in with them, we can start getting proper plans together.”

“Once I’m in with them? What about you?” I retorted, perturbed.

She looked at me with patronization. “You think they’d accept me? A Slytherin? And you really think I could put up with them.” She smirked. “In some ways you being a Gryffindor has given us a huge advantage.”

I tried not to think about the Gryffindor thing and turned to another matter involving the mission.“You noticed Severus Snape at breakfast, I presume.”

Her expression turned sour. “Yes.” She looked at me. “Now we have another obstacle in the way.”

I half-shrugged, as if it was no big deal. Which it was - we were powerful enough to get rid of him, only it would be difficult negotiating it. It was said that the Dark Lord had plans for Severus Snape. Still, I answered with confidence. “Well, he’ll just have to be dealt with then.”

Nadia nodded and opened her mouth to speak. But a drawling, sneering voice cuts across her before she has a chance to. Unsurprisingly, this voice invokes fear in both of us.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Because, stumbling upon our little plot and standing by the edge of the bookshelf and surveying us, is Professor Snape.