A Test of Empathy [Damara Liakos & Professor Grimm]

[Minkasha]

Wednesday, September 1st, 2117.
London, England - Evening.

Sitting among her possessions a tan skinned girl was expectant on the ledge of Hogsmade Station. Her finger flicked a gem of rose quartz dangling decoratively from her small ear lobe. Against the gray masonry Damara's feet kicked gently against the surface. Delicate taps of impatience and unwanted degrees of nervousness. Konstanitos lounged easily as the mystical ophiotaurus in a supernatural clash of the western wizarding world and the extravagance of the Grecian. Extravagance was more than superficial for the young Liakos, for she had come heavily packed for her stay in Hogwarts. Behind her were four thigh high luggage cases full of newly bought clothes and accessories her mother lovingly bought for her.

Outwardly Damara seemed cool and graceful as the Liakos were expected to, it was only an image to keep quiet the fires of determination raging inwardly. Hogtwarts and the embarrassment of repeating first year, it burned in mind. She had much to prove in this discounted school. The time was passing since unloading off from Hogwarts Express and Damara had to hold firmly to the coat worn over her skirt and vest. The muted colors and the rain were ugly and dull compared to the warmth and vibrancy of prospering Greece. The girl could smell the moisture in the air; it was cold and unwelcoming.

Damara heard stories of Hogwarts, often it being a center of chaos and turmoil decades ago. In her student tenure abroad Scotland, she worried her education would not be as potent as Beaxubatons.

[G]

Caelin Grimm hunched his broad shoulders against the brisk night air, grateful for the lack of rain as he trudged between the trees toward Hogsmeade. His fists were thrust inside the pockets of his thick, woolen coat, his strides long; his expression, while not angry, was that of a man who would rather be sitting at his place on the teachers' dias, tucking into the delighting feast that was no doubt appearing in front of the Great Hall's occupants at this very moment - instead, he was walking down the long path that led from the school's gates to the station, from the majority of the school's returning students had already departed; all but one, who a rather harried-looking Prefect had informed him was waiting for help with her belongings.

He spotted her immediately as he reached Hogsmeade Station; indeed, the striking girl was difficult to miss, her waves of thick, dark hair cascading around her shoulders' where she perched amongst her piles of luggage.

"Hello!" Professor Grimm called out a warm greeting as he approached, one hand slipping from its warm hideaway to offer a cheery wave. "I heard you needed some help with your... things. Is this.. all of it then?" Though his voice was friendly, open; he couldn't help a slight pause as he took in the amount of belongings the child had brought with her. The Charms Professor only faltered for a moment though, rubbing his hands together briskly to ward the cold from his fingertips and drawing his wand.

"No problem! I'm Professor Grimm," he grinned, emphasising the misnomer as he extended his right hand for the girl to shake.

[Minkasha]

Grimm. The name didn’t register in her list of memorized names of Pureblood lineage. Olive eyes of stormy color stared at the hand held out to her. It waited and she stared at it further. Instead of shaking, Damara gave what could have been warming or dismissive; a closed lip smile. The bull-serpent wasn’t so coy with his views of the lesser blood teacher as huffed air escaped from his young nostrils in a deep and full sound of frustration. The scaly tail of the ophiotaurus scrapped against the stone loudly. The Grecian girl didn’t make a mention of it and already ignored his hand – she didn’t want to touch him.

“I am Damara Liakos.” She stated boldly, knowing Liakos would mean something to the lesser blooded, it meant something to all of the wizarding world. Despite her ‘failure’, she still bore the name, and its history. The cold had a way of bothering her senses. It nipped at her nose, made a nuisance of itself to her ears and neck. “This is my luggage, yes” The girl said rather crisply.

[G]

Grimms' lips tightened, growing thinner as the first year ignored his hand; though to his credit, he didn't lose the smile.

"Liakos? Ah, you're the transfer from Beauxbatons, right?" Though the statement was casual, his brain sparked in recognition; the faculty had been briefed on the young Grecian, given the unusual circumstances of her transfer to Hogwarts and the reasons for it. The tightness that had been drawn at her rudeness lifted from his brow a little, his smile softer. "And this is your, ah.. pet? Isn't he interesting. Wingardium Leviosa." The incantation was thrown in casually amidst his chatter, along with a flicker of his wand; an instinctive rather than deliberate move. With a woosh of displaced air, the cases rose as one, hovering several inches above the ground.

"Shall we? Got everything? Your..." he looked again at the girls' familiar, wishing he'd paid more attention in Care of Magical Creatures, "Your little friend, your wand? Oh!" He hadn't seen it before, distracted by the girl herself, her extraordinary beast and her abrupt nature. "Is that your wand? It's incredible!" For the first time, he sounded genuinely impressed; and indeed, he was. He'd never seen anything like it - a crystalline point with a rounded grip at one end; certainly not one of Ollivanders' making.

"Well, shall we? We've still got to get you sorted; and we don't want to miss the feast!"

[Minkasha]

Damara’s face fell nearly flat when the snooping professor divulged her past so sparingly. What else did he know? The young girl ran a hand up the nape of her neck and down with a deep breath. Her bags were lifted away and she watched with a slight disappointment at the lesser blood’s able performance.

“It is my wand, it has the Sands of Mars as its core” Damara let loose the detail without restraint, pleased and smiling yet again. Kons lunged off the ledge onto the stairs, his hooves crashing hard on stone and his slithering other half of his body coming down with a thud, beady bullish eyes kept on Professor Grimm as he navigated Damara’s things. The girl herself stroked Kons’ head after jumping down herself. “Is it always going to be so cold here?” Damara asked in complaint. Her parents didn’t say anything about the cold.

The feast sounded somewhat promising.

“What house were you sorted into? I hear Huffelpuffs get the most dirty blooded”

[G]

"The sands of Mars? How interesting!" It was - he'd never heard of such a strange material as a wands' core. They started off toward the Castle, their crunching footsteps accompanied by the sound of Kon's tail sliding over the loose gravel of the path. "I suppose that makes sense - I've heard of some of the things your family have accomplished there."

"I hear Hufflepuffs get the most dirty blooded," Damara threw out the slur casually, and Grimm frowned, his brow creased as he looked down at her sternly.

"Hufflepuff has some Muggleborns, yes," he acquiesced, "we do not use that kind of language here, though, Damara," he admonished her. "Some of our brightest students are Muggleborns, you know. I am the Head of Hufflepuff house." This last was said with a note of pride. "But every house has value; wherever you are sorted, I'm sure you'll do well there. The hat can always tell where you belong." He didn't offer any further explanation of 'the hat,' perhaps assuming that all schools' sorted their students using a ragged Wizards' cap; perhaps merely not realising that she mightn't know how it was done at Hogwarts.

"It's a brisk part of the world," he said brightly, when she asked about the cold. "But it's often sunny at Hogwarts; at least we aren't in London, eh? I'd bet ten Galleons it's raining there now. Here we go, you can see the castle now, up ahead."

The trees of the Forbidden Forest were climbing skyward around them now, on either side of the broad path that meandered up to the castle; it's turrets and towers black shapes silhouetted against the deep, dark blue of the sky.

[Minkasha]

Damara’s expression never pulled from its sour demeanor. However, she incorrectly slighted the lesser blooded, she would have to correct that. They deserved some degree of respect after all. She didn’t share the professor’s positive airs about the weather, keeping the black coat clung to her figure. Stones rolled under her shoes uncomfortably, the list of grievances grew. Sighing, she looked up at the back of the adult’s head.

“Well, sorry,” She began apologetically “The mudbloods and half-bloods fill your house.” Damara corrected her language contently. It was a strange chance that the one to help her with her luggage would be of the lower house, it seemed fitting in a way.

When the Grecian girl stepped closer to Konstanitos to feel safer against the creeping shadows of the ominous forest professor Grimm spoke of a hat. What was he talking about? Damara hadn’t the inclination to ask while still being wary of forest and the oncoming sight of Hogwarts. What she could see looked more prominent than what her mother and father had said. It didn’t look run down, it did lack the grace of Beaxubatons and in its place had a stoic creepiness instead.

[G]

"Muggleborns," Professor Grimm corrected, his face tight as she continued with the slurs. He had suffered it himself, in his early years at Hogwarts, and wasn't kindly disposed to that kind of discrimination. Of course, he didn't blame the child; many students from old, Pureblood families were raised with these views. "At Hogwarts, we do not allow discriminatory terms like 'mud' or 'dirty' blood. I am surprised, Damara, that you are not more kindly disposed to people some might see as different, or strange."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Perhaps it was going too far, to bring up his knowledge of her own marginalization. Some of the Professor's already thought it unprofessional that he referred to students by their first names, rather than 'Miss Liakos,' or 'Mister Nicollo.' But he had always been an emotionally driven man; preferring to connect with, rather than control his students.

"Here we are!" They were clearing the trees now, a well-clipped, green lawn spreading from either side of the path; the castle rose ahead of them, wide steps leading up to it's enormous, double front doors. Grimm hesitated, glancing at Konstanitos. "Now, your beastie here... you'll have to leave him outside. No, no arguments! He's too large to be wandering around the corridors. You can leave him with the groundskeeper, and visit him when you like. He'll be well looked after. Your bags can stay here too, outside the hall; until we know which dormitory they're going to."

[Minkasha]

OO Why does he call her 'Damika'? Is this a typo?

Seething shivers tickled up her body for the professor made a terrible mistake in lecturing her in the subject of her ‘failure’. The nip of outdoorsy frost snapped into the heat of anger. The cheeks flushed and the soft cast her gentle colored eyes had seemed to shift with the emotional twitches in her face. The lighting cast through the trees of the Forbidden Forest held a stage for the indirect changes of her expression to radiate. The twelve-year-old stopped walking in her tracks at the edge of the forest, forgoing the uncertain fear just prior and reined an anger riding straight to Professor Grimm.

Humiliation and the paranoia of who she was spreading through Hogwarts clasped her to her spot. Damara was shaking where she stood, her Grecian familiar huffing and swishing his tail over gravel and brush with some inspired fervor.

“You can’t talk about those things!” Damara yelled to the grown man. “I. AM NOT. STRANGE!” She shrieked furiously. The Vouves Crystal Wand jolted with sparks in her hand, meeting the dance her quaking body was motioning through.

[G]

Grimm stepped backwards, an instinctive movement as Damara's wand flashed; a physical embodiment of her fury. He took but a moment to compose himself; it was hardly the first outburst from a young student he'd seen; that's why they were here, to learn control. Of course, he was ignorant of the potential backlash of Damara's rage, when teamed with her crystal wand. He moved back toward her, placing a gentle hand on the girls shoulder, and lowering himself to a crouch, so that he looked her in the eye.

"Calm down, now," he said, his voice firm, but soothing; kind. He understood, or at least felt he did; though he had not experienced Damara's own struggle, he had had his share of feeling different, and misunderstood in his youth; his Muggle birth, his sexuality - Wizards' are mostly a traditional kind of people, and change does not come easily to them. "I don't think you're strange. And your circumstances are not common knowledge, but surely you knew the staff would be informed? We had to know to call you by your proper name, after all." Caelin paused, unsure if he was helping, or making things worse; but regardless, he could not allow the child to enter the Great Hall in a blaze of willful fury.

"You must compose yourself, Damara, before we enter the hall. I apologise for bringing it up - I wouldn't do so were we not speaking privately; but if you don't wish to discuss it, I won't mention it again. If you need someone to talk to, though," he met the girls' eyes earnestly, "I am available, alright?"