It's A New Dawn || HP AU - Strange Figure In The Halls

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    It's another day in Hogwarts. The staff and students seem to be calming down after the massacre right before the term had started. There has been no other word from the 'Empyrean Dawn' or their goal to rid the impure bloodline of the wizard world. The ministry on the other hand seem to still be tense, but other than that all was at peace.


    Except today there is a new face roaming around the halls. A young woman with long brunette hair and dark brown eyes. Her clothes consist of a simple white long sleeved blouse and black dress pants. She looks tired and stressed, but wears a small smile on her face as she wanders the halls between class periods. She does not speak to anyone, nor does she acknowledge anyone if they speak to her mostly because she does not have any interest in speaking today. Whoever she is, she's strange. Perhaps she's part of the ministry and is merely observing the student's recovery process?


    Maybe someone will be brave enough to follow her and ask what her deal is.

           

    Monroe didn't pay much attention to other people. He knew the Ravenclaws best because that was his obligation, he knew his siblings and their respective friend groups out of concern, and remembered the names and stories of a handful of other students who had come across in his path in his five years at Hogwarts. But even if he didn't know everyone directly by face or name, Monroe knew enough to recognise when someone was new, absolutely fresh to his eyes.


    Typically, always in fact, the students wore robes. It was required, according to the official Hogwarts student code of conduct and the school lists issued at the beginning of every year. Monroe never knew anyone to wear Muggle clothing at Hogwarts - even the Muggle-born students knew better than to dress in their fashion when school was in session. (And who wanted to look like a Muggle after the recent attack?) And in fact, it was within school hours, a weekday, and this girl - this young woman - was out of her uniform. Hogwarts didn't have visitors. There were no parent conferences, so he could only find that one obvious conclusion.


    Monroe didn't care to be the authoritarian, keeping a close watch over everyone always to ensure that every single rule in the book was being followed to a tee. But he was a Prefect, and frankly he was looking for an excuse to approach the dark-haired woman. "Excuse me," the Ravenclaw Prefect strode over to her, arms crossed over his chest. He had Transfiguration class in about thirty minutes, but it would wait if it had to.


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    The soft clicks of the woman's heels against the ground stop when she hears a strange voice directed her way. She has to force herself from emitting an annoyed sigh. Her wish to save her voice was gone now. Not that there was any reason not to speak, she merely didn't want to converse with any of the students here. She had a job to do after all.


    Her head turns to look at the younger man and her smile actually widens a bit. She knows of this boy. He was the son of the newly appointed headmaster. "Yes?" Ms. Wicker was hoping the conversation could be kept short. She'd like to continue her lonesome journey around the castle while she had the chance, but perhaps she chose a bad time. The students were changing classes after all.


    She just didn't think someone would be brave enough to approach her.


    Her hands slide casually into the pockets of her dress pants as she turns her entire body to dedicate her attention to the Targaryen-Grimes boy. If memory serves her correct, he was a pureblood. Was he admired by the students now that his father was the headmaster? Or did that title not affect him in anyway? She still wanted to keep conversation short, but her curiosity was beginning to grow inside of her.


           

    Persephone, like the others, moved to change classes as quickly as they could. However, unlike the underclassmen excited to try a new potion or those older than her, trying to get the day over with, the girl dragged her feet. Her next class was flying, something that was already established as difficult for her. It was becoming more and more of a pain to join class each day and she often took wrong turns on purpose to miss most of it. This was also a part of the day where she would often pass Monroe and his crew. Sometimes their interactions would be nothing, not even a glance. Other times she would make an effort to gesture at him, oftentimes nothing nice however.


    It was weird to see him stilled in the hallway this time around, however. She had just got back into a routine of normality, looking forward to maybe make a face at him as they passed. Instead, he seemed to be distracted by an older woman. She blew a quiet raspberry, playing with the idea that the rumors were true, and that Monroe had the hots for older ladies. She tried to shift past them, but the energy around the woman was... odd. She made the young Gryffindor fairly uncomfortable just with the way she surveyed the class. Each heel click sent a shiver up the girl's back, and her eyebrows furrowed.


    She, somewhat against her instincts, ended up stopping beside Monroe, touching her hand to his shoulder briefly to let him know she stood near him. Her eyes remained on the wide smiled woman, arm returning to clutch her book to her chest. Flying class could obviously wait - she had an awful gut feeling about the lady and, for some reason, didn't want to leave the older boy alone, "Is everything okay here? You guys are kind of blocking the flow," she aimed to seem innocent, motioning to the few students that milled around them, squeezing on either side to get to their classes.

    Oh. She was older than expected from her figure. Was she a Ministry official? Did this woman know his father? Instantly, Monroe's face lost any overt expressions he might have been wearing before. Still, he thought it was strange that a Ministry official - if she even was one, he was going off based on that assumption - should be wearing Muggle clothes. It was... jarring. "Are you here to see a faculty member, Miss?" Monroe questioned smoothly.


    He was so intent on the stranger that he hardly noticed Persephone until the younger girl had touched his shoulder only to remove her touch shortly after. Unlike the Gryffindor, he felt no sense of apprehension towards the stranger. Perhaps that was only his folly, but all he could summon was vague feelings of intrigue and frustration. "I was just asking if she wanted an escort." Monroe nevertheless looked around them to check the validity of Persephone's statement. Like with Persephone, he hadn't noticed the other students trying to get past them. His fingers finding the sleeve of the girl's shirt, the Prefect tried to tug them both towards the side of the hall. "Ah, our bad." He presumed the woman would follow the motion.


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    A slender hand raises to fidget with the top button on her blouse. It would most likely be perceived as a nervous manner for being cornered by two students, but in reality it was her discomfort in the clothing. Support the muggles. Show them we're there for them during these hard times. Perhaps wear their clothes to show our support? It was a ridiculous idea, but one Ms. Wicker had to obey. Her dark eyes flicker from the boy to the young girl.


    Seraphinus-Keyper.


    Ms. Wicker knows much about this girl and her history. One would have to be a fool to not know the daughter of two professors in the school. "My apologies." The woman gives a somewhat bashful smile before stepping to the side with the boy. "Everything is alright, though perhaps one of you can assist me? I'm looking for Ms. Keyper's classroom." Of course the reason had to be kept private. There was no need to alarm the students, but she had simple orders she had to fulfill.


    "Unless you are both in a rush to your next class? Do not feel obligated to help. I will eventually navigate my way around these halls to her room." With that said she slides her hands casually into her pockets and glances over her shoulder where the students are able to file past in an easier way. They all seem to be doing just fine after the attack. It's interesting how quick they bounced back. Were they not scared? If not, then why? Were most of them purebloods and thought they had nothing to fear? Hm.. Too many questions.

           

    "Professor Keyper?" Monroe echoed. She was the Professor of History of Magic and the head of House Hufflepuff. Persephone's mum too, and possibly Professor Seraphinus's wife or something (although the fact that she hadn't taken his family name left the matter ambiguous to Monroe). "Yeah, we know where her classroom is." His own class - Transfiguration with Professor Seraphinus funnily enough - didn't start for another half-hour, and Monroe wasn't all that opposed to skipping if something less mundane came up.


    "No," the Ravenclaw Prefect shook his head slowly, his fingers subconsciously reaching up to touch the badge pinned on his robes. "It's quite alright, I'd be happy to show you the way." His hazel eyes flickered to Persephone. "You?" he wondered, quietly inviting her along. He imagined she'd be very interested in seeing any hints as to what this woman wanted with her mother.


    Monroe still wasn't very sure who Ms. Wicker was - if she was Ministry, why wasn't she asking for his father instead? But perhaps she wanted to gauge someone unaffiliated with the Ministry, a professor with no allegiance to Aleksei himself. Was she perhaps wanting an evaluation of his father's conduct? If so, Monroe didn't think anything too exciting would come up. Life at Hogwarts had quietened down since the attack. Monroe took some comfort in the fact that he and his siblings weren't part of the targeted demographic, but he suspected that most of the other students were simply resilient. Young people usually were, and it was hard to forever occupy yourself with one concern as mundanity came to occupy more and more of each day.


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    Persephone allowed her gaze to shift away from the woman to Monroe as he acknowledged her, her cheeks reddening as he pulled her to the side. She pulled her arm away from his slight grasp, aiming to look more so frustrated than flustered with the boy. Her tap to his shoulder didn't mean he could even think about touching her as well - she took a deep breath as Ms. Wicker came to join them again, the moment gone and her time to be a pest squashed with the weird feeling once again. She stood slightly behind Monroe, now crossing both arms over her books.


    Keyper. Percy, of course, knew who the woman was, where her classroom was, even so much as where the woman lived. After all, 'Keyper' was her mother. She clenched her teeth, trying to find some sort of bright side of the situation. She was over reacting, her gut was just upset for one reason or another. She remained silent as Monroe agreed to showing the thus-far nameless woman around the castle, only piping up when the Prefect turned to her.


    "No, yeah, I can come. I've been meaning to speak to Professor Keyper anyways," she muttered, her voice a tad bit quieter than before. Her eyes returned to Ms. Wicker, watching the other fidget for a moment before motioning, "Well then, let's be on our way, I guess. I'm sure she won't like being interrupted during a class," did her mother have classes around this time? She wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed like enough of an excuse to get the strange woman out of their hair quicker.

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    Small hands clench into fists inside of concealed pockets. Of course Persephone wanted to speak to her mother, though perhaps it could wait since this was a somewhat urgent matter. The smile on Ms. Wicker's face remains as she gestures with a casual nod of her head for the two students to lead the way.


    Of course, what two of the three failed to take into account was that Professor Keyper didn't have any classes at this time and thus wouldn't be found in her classroom. This was intended to be a private conversation after all and she didn't need curious students lingering, so perhaps it was better off this way. She could just play dumb and have them go on a little chase around the school for the woman. If they don't find her then surely they will have to go back to their classes at some point. They wouldn't want to be reported for skipping, right?


    This is why she doesn't have kids. The woman finds them to be too annoying. Too curious with the world. They couldn't just accept answers for what they were, but instead decided to challenge everything.


    Hmph. If they wanted something to entertain their minds with then perhaps she can bring this up to Persephone? "Persephone, has your mother ever mentioned someone with the last name 'Wicker'?" Surely this would be absolutely shocking to the girl. Could she handle the information she was about to give? Probably not, but maybe it would mean one less kid following her around.


    Alternatively maybe that will just peak her interest, but really either outcome was fine with the woman. "We're related, though haven't seen each other in decades."

           

    She kept her steps at an even pace and debated whether or not now was a good time to bicker with Monroe. Maybe she could explain that touching was a no in their relationship (if that was what you could call it,) despite the fact that she had blatantly broke that rule a few moments prior to him. However, the woman they were guiding spoke up before she could make up her mind, throwing her for a loop.


    Her head spun as she took in the short conversation, questions coming to light. How did she know her name, nevertheless her relation to her mother? And to make the assumption that she was known to Persephone - the girl paused in her steps, turning her pointed gaze at Ms. Wicker. She had yet to consider the other as someone in the Ministry, considering her clothes and demeanor, and would cause her tone to become more curt.


    "Are you my grandmother?" she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear, "Because this is one strange way of revealing it. Really messes up my whole tragic backstory," she continued, almost like she had much of a backstory to offend. She was raised by purebloods who, while their own lives weren't always the best, did their best providing for her and her brothers, dead and alive alike. She huffed, cheeks reddening as the sly revelation that she may be related to the quiet, misdressed woman really dragged on her already tangled mood, "Let's hurry up. I almost miss my flight class," she continued to walk, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt as she tried to hurry Ms. Wicker and Monroe along.

    "I think she's a little too young to be a grandmother," Monroe coughed into his fist. Maybe Persephone was being sarcastic - he couldn't always tell with the cheeky girl - but he imagined most ladies wouldn't liked to called a grandmother even as a jest. Nevertheless, the Ravenclaw Prefect followed silently after the Gryffindor girl, sneaking occasional, curious glances at the dark-haired woman beside them. He wasn't particularly interested in the details of Ms. Wicker's falling out with Professor Keyper, but it was a little strange that they were estranged. Purebloods tended to run in the same circles for centuries. He might have thought she was a blood traitor or something of the sort, but Persephone's family didn't seem to be pureblood supremacists. "You were going to be late anyways," Monroe called out after said girl, a slight smirk tugging at his mouth. He never did like to miss an opportunity to poke fun at her.


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