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Lifting a Hero's Spirit - 1
🕑 Added 2024-09-06 21:40:23 +0000 UTCMiguel Luna.
Hogwarts newcomer. Slayer of trolls. Hero of the school. And now… he’d just won Slytherin the House Cup. All that at a ripe young age. As a teenager.
Miguel’s life had never been ordinary. Though his magic hadn’t blossomed until just recently, he’d never been a stranger to the world of magic, witchcraft, and wizardry. His father, a renowned cursebreaker, and he, his dutiful assistant. Traveling the globe on business, the young wizard had thought he’d seen it all.
But this? His fellow Slytherin were jumping and cheering right before his eyes. Yet Miguel still couldn’t believe it was real.
Even after all he had to endure this past school year, Miguel found himself stunned. Baffled. Flummoxed. All those fancy words that the Brits used. But that all faded quickly in favor of elation and triumph.
He was the hero of the school, after all. The Professors and his fellow students adored him now - House Slytherin especially. So why not enjoy the moment?
So he ate and drank and laughed along with the rest of them. Ominis Gaunt clapped him on the back, his fellow Slytherin in much higher spirits now after that ugly business with Solomon Sallow. Violet McDowell gave him a kiss on the cheek - which only put even more wind in Miguel’s sails. Imelda Reyes, with her competitive spirit, gave him two. Hell, even some of the Gryffindors came over to congratulate him. Garreth Weasley And Leander Prewett couldn’t deny his bravery in the fight against Ranrok. In their own words, they had to show their appreciation - even if Miguel was a Slytherin.
The teenage hero was flying high and in far too good a mood to take offense. So he shook their hands and took their pats on the back, all with a beaming smile.
And still others came to voice their admiration.
“Well done!”
“Bloody good work, mate!”
“Never thought we’d be lucky to have a yank wearing our colors!”
It was a good evening. Probably the high point of Miguel’s young life. But he knew one way to make it even better.
A kiss from Poppy Sweeting.
- - -
High spirits he may have possessed, but Miguel still had to work up the nerve to approach Poppy. Such a silly thing to fret over after he’d faced down the likes of dark wizards, rogue goblins, and all other sorts of fearsome beasts. But who could blame him?
A pretty girl sent his heart beating harder and faster than all those enemies combined. And Poppy Sweeting was easily the prettiest girl out of all the fifth years.
The witch who had enchanted his dreams was soft of face, with rosy cheeks and pert, full lips that always had the hint of a smile. Her beauty was simple though she could never be described as plain. Not with those big, doe eyes, a lovely shade of chocolate brown that matched her short, silky hair.
Miguel quickly found himself swept up in his imagination. He thought of her cute, button nose brushing against his own as they kissed. He thought of how soft her lips might be, how warm she’d feel in his arms. He thought of the way her eyes might sparkle under candlelight - or how bright they shone whenever she laughed. He imagined running his fingers through her hair.
She loved animals - so much that she fled from her poacher family out of shame and outrage. She was more than just a sweetheart. She was an angel. One with a temper, certainly, but an angel nonetheless. More than one of Miguel’s fellow student wizards had his eye on Ms. Sweeting. With a girl like her, that was to be expected. Miguel knew he had to act. He was a man of action now, wasn’t he? He had to take his chance. And tonight was as good a time as any.
Of course, in the time he spent overthinking his next move, Poppy had come to him. Like the Gryffindors Weasley and Prewett, the young, pretty Hufflepuff had come to offer her congratulations.
It was a miracle Miguel didn’t end up tongue-tied, what with the jumbled mess that his brains had become.
“So… the House Cup. Not bad for a first year.” She teased, knocking his arm with her elbow.
“I’m just getting started. Next year I’ll be lifting the Quidditch Cup.” Miguel wore a cocky grin, the very image of confidence. His insides were the opposite, a wild storm of rocking waves. His gut was turning, flipping, weightless. It only got worse when Poppy laughed. Her voice matched her family name, light and lovely to his ears.
But then the Weasley boy was laughing too, clapping Miguel roughly on the back. The Slytherin fought to keep from shooting him a cold look.
“Not if Gryffindor has anything to say about that.” Garreth boasted. “We may not be the size of dragons, but we’re just as fierce and twice as fast. We’re devils on those broomsticks.”
“And they’re all going to want a piece of you, I’d wager.” Added Imelda, in a rare moment without jealousy.
“Now you understand the double-edged sword of celebrity.” Ominis spoke in a dry tone. “Fame has put a target on your back, friend.”
Miguel looked at each of his compatriots in turn, realizing very quickly that making his move on Poppy now would be impossible - or at the very least, ill-timed. Even at his young age, driven as much by raging hormones as he was by reason, the young wizard knew he had to pick his moment carefully. Stealing a kiss from Poppy in front of all their friends and classmates. That would result only in failure. And likely a slap to the face as well, Hero of the School be damned.
So he just smiled and laughed along with them, letting himself get swept up in the festivities of the Great Hall. Poppy remained amidst the group, eating and drinking and chatting. Miguel would just keep an eye on her, bide his time.
His heart had yearned for Poppy for months. He could wait a few more minutes.
Once the celebration died down and students began to retire back to their dorms, that would be his time to strike. Miguel nearly frowned at his own thoughts. Strike. That sounded so predatory. He wanted to kiss Poppy, not terrify her.
There came an unpleasant thought, swirling like a dark cloud in the back of his mind. What if his kiss did terrify her? Next came the sensation of dread, like a stone sinking to the pit of his gut. Miguel forced himself to ignore it.
He was the Hero of Hogwarts. Slayer of Trolls. Defeater of Ranrok. He’d stared death - and worse - in the face. A simple kiss was nothing.
Professor Fig would’ve told him the very same thing.
Miguel maintained his veneer of calm, even as his heart pumped hot blood through his veins. Excitement and anxiety entwined deep in his innards but he managed to laugh and joke with his friends all the same.
Perhaps if this wizarding career doesn’t work out I might find work as a professional actor, he thought.
By now the hour had drawn late. Students began to depart for bed, filing out of the Great Hall one by one - or in twos or threes. Miguel kept careful watch over each, looking to make sure if Poppy was among those leaving.
Eventually, the time came. The pretty brunette was heading for the great wooden doors at the end of the hall. And to Miguel’s delight, the girl of his dreams was all by her lonesome. It was as perfect as opportunities came.
Miguel watched Poppy leave through the grand doorway, waiting a moment before excusing himself too. He waved goodbye to his friends, took one last swig of butterbeer, and calmly walked to the exit. Once he was through those doors and out of sight, though… the teenager quickly rose to a brisk pace. He had to catch up with Poppy before she reached the Grand Staircase - or worse, a Floo Flame.
Fortune continued to be on Miguel’s side. As he rounded the corner, he spotted Poppy strolling ahead of him at a leisurely pace. She was inspecting the paintings that lined the walls as she went, taking her sweet time.
Miguel slowed as well. He didn’t want to appear out of breath. Gathering his nerve, the young wizard made his approach. His mind was set, his conviction firm. He was going to kiss Poppy tonight.
“Hey.” He spoke in a low, friendly voice, offering a warm smile as the girl whirled to face him with a cute little jump. He hoped her shock was the good sort. “Been quite a year, hasn’t it?”
“I’ll say. For you more than anyone.” Poppy’s smile faded and for a moment there was sadness in her eyes. “I’m terribly sorry about Professor Fig. We all are. I know he was your mentor. You two had to have been close.”
Bitter memories came sweeping back to the forefront of Miguel’s mind like an icy gale. That final fight with Ranrok had been grueling, frightening. It had exacted a toll from Miguel - and even worse from Professor Fig. Victory that day came at a high price. In Miguel’s opinion, too high. Whatever sorrow that Poppy felt, the Hero of Hogwarts felt twofold.
“We were.” Miguel admitted with a heavy sigh. “I didn’t know him for very long. I only met him just a few months before I came to Hogwarts. It was his responsibility to get me caught up with the other fifth-years. He taught me everything he could to get me ready in time. He was a good man. Brave, too. I’m going to miss him.”
Poppy reached out and touched his arm. It was a gentle, heartfelt gesture. Meant to comfort him, no doubt. He should have appreciated it. And he did… just not in an entirely gracious way. Miguel Luna remained his teenage self, possessing a teenager’s body and all the drives and urges that came accordingly. Poppy’s reassuring touch on his arm comforted him alright. That and much more.
If Miguel’s heart had been hammering before…
The buzz that rose up from within, tingling all over his skin, helped Miguel understand Professor Eleazar Fig’s final lesson. One taught from beyond the grave: Life was short. So he had to take his chances whenever they came.
Miguel wasn’t going to let this one slip by.
“Hey…” He had to force himself to speak, to push himself over that line. It had to be now. There was no better time. He looked Poppy deep in her eyes. “I really enjoyed spending time with you this year, Poppy.”
The witch’s face brightened, her smile coming like the rising sun. She was cute. No, she was beautiful.
“We had some adventures, didn’t we? There’s no one else I’d rather have by my side the next time there’s some poachers to drive off.” Poppy patted his arm.
“Or if there are any more dragon eggs to save.” Miguel added jokingly. Though with his uncanny nature of attracting trouble, he couldn’t be so sure it wouldn’t happen.
Poppy giggled. Merlin’s beard, did she have a cute giggle. It stirred up Miguel’s insides into a flurry, like a thousand butterflies in his stomach. With her bright eyes and rosy cheeks, the witch set his heart ablaze.
Driven on by daring and hormones, Miguel Luna, the Hero of Hogwarts, took his chance. He forced himself over the line, barreling through with sheer nerve and a hunger he had never felt before.
He leaned forward and kissed Poppy Sweeting.
She let out a tiny squeak. Her lips were so soft, like tiny, supple pillows. Hers were buttery smooth and so warm against his own. It was better than anything he ever dreamed up. His whole body came alive again, jolted through with utter glee. His heart ached, hammering hard in his chest. Somehow he felt weightless on top of it all. Like he was flying.
It was totally and completely amazing.
Until it wasn’t.
Poppy made another sound. Not like the squeak from before. This sound wasn’t cute - or positive in the slightest. And the feel of her lips - she wasn’t kissing him back, he realized. Miguel understood to his great dread: Poppy was far from pleased. Her hands pushing against his chest hammered the message home.
Stop. Now.
Miguel jerked away as if Poppy’s lips had been white hot. The vision that greeted him was the witch of his dreams staring back at him with wide, stunned eyes. Stunned in a very not good way. It was his great fortune that she did not look furious or disgusted. Miguel wouldn’t have been able to stomach that.
There was an awkward silence between them that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. A cold dread sank into his gut, heavy like a stone. At the same time, his cheeks and ears burned from embarrassment and shame. His face felt like a bonfire. He’d never felt so stupid. The stress of facing down Ranrok had been more tolerable than this.
“What was that?” Poppy asked. Interrogated, more like. She didn’t sound angry like he feared, for which the young wizard was thankful. However, the edge to her words was unmistakable.
“Um… sorry…” Miguel mumbled. He winced at his own weak response. He had stared death in the face. Wasn’t he supposed to have a spine? “I thought…”
“No. Stop.” Poppy waved him off. Miguel noted how she was anxiously glancing both ways down the empty hall. Wary of possible onlookers, he guessed. “Don’t be sorry. That’s not why… This is just so sudden. You like me?”
Miguel nodded.
She was fidgeting with her hands, now rarely meeting his eyes. It was then that he noticed Poppy was blushing red, same as him. He’d hoped for a smile, but Poppy was stunned into near-silence. Was that a good sign? A terrible one? Miguel held his breath.
Poppy let out a long, heavy breath. She brought her arms in close, hugging herself. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, still reluctant to meet Miguel’s gaze. She was nervous. Even more now than he was. All this because of one little kiss. Miguel wanted to bang his head against the wall.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
“Look…” Poppy started, again glancing around to check for unwanted observers. “It’s been a hectic year. For you more than anyone. I just… I don’t know… about any of this.”
The cute witch bit her lip. She finally met Miguel’s eyes, holding his gaze for a long moment. There was no anger, no outrage in her eyes. But neither was there the warmth he’d seen back in the Great Hall. Instead, Miguel could only see worry and uncertainty.
“I… I like you, too.” Poppy finally answered. Miguel only wished those words had been spoken happily. “But this is… it’s too much. Too fast. I’m sorry.”
The Hero of Hogwarts had endured his fair share of scrapes and bruises and hostile spells. But none had ever cut quite as deep as this.
Poppy regarded him with sad eyes. She reached out for his hand, maybe hoping to ease the sting with her gentle touch. It only lasted a moment. She said nothing more as she continued on her way to the Hufflepuff dorm. Miguel watched in silence as she went, not having the nerve to follow.
Then he was alone. His only company were the enchanted paintings that lined the walls. He prayed they remained as silent as he was. The last thing this moment needed was color commentary.
Rejection, Miguel discovered, hurt worse than dragons.
- - -
Mirabel Garlick was frowning. The scene unfolding before her eyes was tough to take in - especially because the misfortune was happening to one of her favorite new students.
Miguel Luna had taken well to herbology, just as he had taken well to most of his other classes. He’d displayed remarkable talent these last several months, adept at nearly all forms of magic. Impressive for a newly blossomed wizard, even more so because he started as a fifth-year. Always attentive, always dutiful, eager to learn, and exceptionally skilled - and thankfully not to the point of arrogance.
But fortune, it seemed, did not come to him in all things.
The young wizard was a handsome youth, tall and strapping for his age. He was intelligent, brave, and courteous. He had all the markings of a heartthrob in the making - if the young witches didn’t consider him one already.
And still pretty Poppy Sweeting was rejecting him.
After such a sweet kiss, too…
Mirabel found herself wincing, seeing the crestfallen look on the teenage boy’s face as the girl left him alone in the hall. She’d been a teenager herself once, stricken by the same awkward hardships as her students. Not too long ago, in fact. She was only twenty-five. She certainly knew that life better than any other professor at Hogwarts. Mirabel wanted to comfort the poor boy, to assure him it wasn’t the end of the world.
Instead, Mirabel stayed put - and stayed silent. She kept herself pressed close to a stone pillar, hiding just out of view. She peeked around to keep an eye on Miguel. He hadn’t moved an inch.
The boy - the young man remained there for a time. Mirabel could only imagine the storm of emotions he was enduring at the moment. He had to be reeling on the inside. It was not an easy thing to be turned away by a crush. The first taste of heartbreak always stung like nothing else, mingling with other ugly things like shame and humiliation. It was an ailment no potion could cure.
Mirabel was starting to feel some of it herself, if only on the young man’s behalf. To fly so high through the whole school year only to come crashing down after reaching the tallest peak… Mirabel did not envy Miguel Luna.
Finally, the teenager moved. Kicking at the stone floor, he let out a heavy sigh. It was the sound of defeat and acceptance. It was as mature a response as she could expect from him and it made her heart ache all the more. Still, she stayed out of sight.
The Slytherin youth muttered something under his breath. He paced a bit, back and forth with downcast eyes. Then, finally, he turned and made for the Grand Staircase. Mirabel watched him go, wishing she knew how to ease his suffering.
Then, in the twilight hour of the last day before summer, an idea came to Professor Mirabel Garlick.
It was outlandish, perhaps even inappropriate. But then again, it had been quite an outlandish year. For such a young, brave hero to endure so much and receive such paltry rewards for it… Mirabel couldn’t stand the thought. It just didn’t sit right with her.
If there was any student who deserved lifted spirits, surely it was the young Hero of Hogwarts. If Mirabel had to bend some rules to make that happen, then so be it.
Miguel Luna wouldn’t know heartache for long. Mirabel would make sure of it.
Comments
ryswell
Wherever it leads, Miguel will certainly end up with higher spirits!
OkHere
Interested to see where this goes!
