Contrite

September 1st greeted Athena the same way it always did, with supplying her with an amber leaf from the tree outside her bedroom window. Not yet dressed, she watched through the reflection on the glass as the House Elves packed her trunk. She twisted the leaf between her fingers, her thoughts miles away from the home she’d lived in since she’d been left there by her grandmother. The summer had been sedate and though she had had little to do with either of her parents, she had wished she’d spent more time with her father. Instead of doing that she’d exiled herself to Italy where, as always, she spent a week soaking up the sun and indulging in pleasures that could be forgotten about under the heavy English cloud cover. She didn’t think they’d see the sun for a long time. Light, perhaps, but not the sun. Autumn looked as if it had already arrived.

Slipping from the window seat, Athena began to get dressed, following the same morning ritual she always adhered to despite being up far later than usual. Apolline had suggested she sleep in and the House Elves encouraged it. Athena couldn’t help but wonder whether it was better to sleep than have to apply whatever spells hid the plum coloured rings under her eyes. She wasn’t doing anything really, she just did what she always did - she curled up somewhere and read for hours on end. The House Elves had been good about ensuring she had something to eat but they faced a far more difficult task of trying to get her to go to bed. So she sat in front of the vanity, watching her face change as spells were applied along with the make-up that Apolline insisted upon. It was a great effort, all for one thing of course, but it did little to help a young woman that had already made her mind, especially one that didn’t change her opinions easily.

Slowly but surely, Athena got ready, feeling not at all ready for school. Her father had informed her about Grindelwald’s take over and had enthused about the possibilities for her, for him, for their family. It was hardly promising. Athena would have thought her father had learned from the Dark Lord but evidently not. She didn’t know why he bothered, really. He couldn’t contribute anything to Grindelwald’s plan. They were broke and it was as if that continued to slip her father’s mind. Athena was about as willing as he was to admit they were on their last legs as far as money was concerned. They all seemed to forget. It was only Athena that seemed to save for the rainy days that were due at any time. She knew that the year ahead would be an easy one if their new Minister, who had ironically assumed control of Hogwarts, took a special interest in the Slytherin students. Still, that could change in due time.

Athena was willing to play the game, though; for now.

When Athena arrived at Platform 9¾ she was earlier than expected. Wedged between her cousins, she was hardly inconspicuous. When the boys finally abandoned her to go wherever they needed to go, Athena walked down the platform to dispose of her animals before returning to the trolley that bore the weight of her trunk, wondering how on earth she was going to get it onto the train. She wasn’t about to do it the Muggle way but taking her wand to it was going to do her little good. So really, she was rather stuck. How unfortunate.

Somehow, Mother had finally got a clue. A week before Damien was due to board the Hogwarts Express, she had made an arrangement with her husband. Ian Dawson stayed away from Marissa Knight's Glasgow apartment for a week, so that her son could come and live with her before being sent off to Hogwarts for the new school term. There were certainly disagreements. Ian had wanted Marissa to continue to fight for the disintegration of her son's prejudiced views against muggleborns, something that she herself was responsible for many years ago. Marissa, however, was willing to rest the matter for awhile. It was getting tiresome, having to fight with her favourite person - her baby boy - just because she had committed the forbidden. She merely wanted some quality time with her son, like old times, before she would have to bear with not seeing him for an extended period of time. Damien had gone to his Mother willingly at the knowledge that he was not going to have to meet Ian, although things still carried a tinge of estrangement after the recent fights about her re-marriage.

Having Mother around meant someone really took care of him. Still, Damien was perturbed to see that there were no house-elves at all in her apartment. The Knights had ensured that their disdain for the blood-traitor in their household was conveyed with clarity. Things had changed so much. The Knight Estate was suitably wealthy, given the status of the Pureblood family and their funds. Marissa's apartment in Glasgow, after she was told to leave the Estate, was nothing like it. After all, it was paid from her own pocket, and therefore, her job at the Ministry. Damien had told no one about his whereabouts for the week, not wishing to feel the shame of his Mother's actions. The only one who knew was Lorcan D'Eath, who had expressed his send-off to his son a week earlier with the only ways he knew how, with words and with galleons. Marissa, on the other hand, had brought her son around town and attempted to make him happy with her company. Even so, Damien approved of his Father's actions a lot more. He had now become disillusioned to whatever Marissa stood for, even if he loved her more than his Father.

Standing at King's Cross station in a white dress shirt and black pants , Damien adjusted his tie as his eyes scanned the other students who were saying goodbyes to their families too. Most of them looked younger, and the doe expressions on their faces annoyed him. Damien sneered and looked away from them, to the face of his Mother. Taking a step closer to her, he planted a polite peck on her left cheek, before he found himself being pulled towards her suddenly for a strange embrace. Damien blinked before pulling away, clearing his throat in the process. "Goodbye, Mother." He allowed a nod to accompany that before he grabbed the handle of his trolley and rushed through the wall.

The sight that greeted Damien was a very different one, compared to the previous years. He paused to observe it. There was no rush. The train looked more serious now with its new colour, and the boy stood to admire it. It was not a cheery red anymore. There were posters everywhere, and Damien pushed his trolley to the nearest one as he leaned in to read it. A smirk began to form at his lips, brought to its full glory at the last guideline stated. Suddenly, he could not wait to see the pile of confiscated muggle items that would surely be called into existence much later. The new school term was already looking good. He had heard about the new Minister, and from Damien's deduction merely by the poster, this Grindelwald was going to do a more handsome job than Lupin. A couple of students around him were already talking in alarm, unloading their muggle artefacts and fussing about them. Damien could almost laugh at how stupid they looked, but he held it in with a smirk instead while he pushed his trolley away from the poster, and to the animal compartment of the train to hand Masoch over. The owl gave the porter an evil eye before it was chucked along with the rest in the compartment.

The task of picking a compartment was an awfully important one. One must be early, and yet not too early. Early enough to see the one or two that already got there, so that one could choose, and yet not too early to be the first one in there and looking like an invitation to unpleasant train-mates. Because he was too early, Damien merely grabbed his trunk off the trolley and began to stroll. He did not care if the trolley that he had left in the middle of the crowd was a hindrance or not. If it was not obstructing his path, it was not his business anymore. While he scanned the crowd for a familiar face, Damien's eyes landed on a more than agreeable company. For a couple of years, he had watched the older girl from afar, intimidated yet intrigued by her. He had known, quite early in his life at Hogwarts, that an alliance of some sort with her would be of great benefit to him. Thankfully, the coincidental meeting at the circus had given him some hope in that direction. Adjusting his tie again, he walked up to the girl with reddish-brown locks.

"The early bird catches the worm. It's too old a saying, isn't it?" And then Damien turned to face Athena. "Miss Goyle," he nodded as he greeted. Once more, the boy turned his eyes to the mass. "Anyone from this wormy bunch caught your eye yet?"