The rest of the evening drifted past in a haze for Oleandra, as though she were moving through a dense shroud of fog. Strangers' faces blurred into those she knew when her fellow Slytherin spoke to her, their lips shaping words that didn't fit the sounds she heard.
Somehow, Oleandra managed to find her way back to her room in the dormitories after dessert and collapsed onto her bed, eyes screwed shut and hands pressed to her ears in a desperate bid to shut out the unwelcome hallucinations.
…
Oleandra woke with a start the following morning, her bedroom tinted green by the sunlight filtering through the Black Lake and streaming in through the porthole. She swung her feet out of bed and shivered as her bare soles met the cold floor, reflexively glancing at her reflection in the tall mirror above her bedside table.
"Gah!"
Hearing Daphne stirring in her sleep, Oleandra clapped her hands over her mouth to keep from making a sound. Somehow, Tonks's Metamorphmagus power had flared up of its own accord while she slept, leaving her in Viviane's form. She stared at her reflection, willing herself to change back…
…and came up completely blank. What did she used to look like, again? Oleandra stared at her twin sister's sleeping face and focused.
"What're you looking at?" Daphne muttered, cracking open an eyelid.
"Your nose," said Oleandra quickly, dipping out of sight before Daphne could realise anything was amiss.
Feeling singularly panicked, Oleandra snatched up her toiletries and dashed to the bathroom. She hadn't had the presence of mind to wash the previous evening, and she was determined not to spend her first day of school smelling of burnt fabric and rubble dust.
"Good morning, Milady!"
A few girls bowed as she entered the bathroom, but Oleandra ignored them and found herself and empty stall and jumped into a bathtub. Only when she was covered up to the neck in hot water did she finally allow herself to relax, only to swear out loud when she realised that the long hair floating around her neck was the wrong colour. In her haste to return to her normal form, she had slightly overcompensated…
"What in the world is going on with me…?" Oleandra sighed, despondently blowing bubbles into her bathwater. "Did you know this would happen, Mai…?"
Viviane had bound the Sword of the Lake to her soul when she forged it in the manner of Fairies, much like Excalibur. By having Oleandra sleep beside it for nine days and nine nights, Mai had hoped that the soul imprint might serve as the foundation upon which Oleandra could rebuild her obliterated soul's Shadow.
But instead of restoring her Shadow… Viviane's memories seemed to be actively rewriting Oleandra's, which was disastrously bad. It also explained why she wasn't seeing any of her other incarnations' memories.
"One lotus fruit… two drops of Lethe River water… two valerian sprigs…" Oleandra mumbled. "I doubt Madam Pomfrey would have any idea how to help me, and even if she did, she might well poison me… If this gets any worse, I may have to brew a Forgetfulness Potion…"
Oleandra plunged a hand into the water, her hand closing around a handle. With a firm tug, she drew the Sword of the Lake, its silvery blade gleaming and sparkling in the lamplight as droplets ran down its length.
"This is all your fault, you know," she told it reproachfully.
…
After finishing her bath and changing her hair colour, Oleandra joined Daphne and the rest of the Slytherins, and together they went up to the Great Hall for breakfast. Oleandra tried to catch Tracey's attention at the table, but she simply lifted her plate without a word and moved further away.
"I'm sure she'll come around," Daphne said, patting Oleandra's back awkwardly.
While the students busied themselves with buttered toast and cereal, Professor Slughorn came down from the staff table to deliver their timetables personally, beginning with the seventh-years. He flinched when he caught sight of a glint of silver at Oleandra's hip, but swallowed his fear and handed her a length of parchment.
"Severus… ahem, the Headmaster has informed me that you may choose any class you wish," Professor Slughorn told Oleandra nervously, his jowls jiggling obsequiously. "…even though you haven't passed any of your end-of-term exams."
Oleandra examined the seventh-year timetable. Dark Arts and Muggle Studies bore the special note of being compulsory. Alchemy was unavailable this year, since Professor Dumbledore was dead and no Alchemist of sound mind had agreed to take the post, but aside from that, all other classes were being held normally.
"What are you picking?" Oleandra asked her sister as Professor Slughorn lumbered away.
Without a Time-Turner, the maximum number of classes a student could take was ten, though most hovered between eight and nine. Beyond the O.W.L. level, the average number of classes taken dropped to four or five, as the seven core subjects were no longer compulsory. N.E.W.T.-level students preferred to unburden themselves of 'useless' subjects to focus on those that would help with their careers.
"Definitely Transfiguration, Potions and Herbology," said Daphne, chewing her lip in thought. "Which already brings me to five…"
Astronomy was useful inasmuch as it provided a solid foundation for the elective subjects of Divination and the Study of Ancient Runes, but at Oleandra's and Daphne's level, it was no longer particularly beneficial to study.
"It would be a shame not to take Ancient Runes after everything we've been through," Oleandra proposed. "Even though we surpassed Professor Babbling a long time ago."
"Which makes six subjects in total," Daphne concluded. "That's quite manageable."
After breakfast, Oleandra and Daphne completed the necessary paperwork and handed the parchments to Professor Slughorn, who had returned to the staff table.
According to their timetables and chosen subjects, the first lesson of the day on Monday was Transfiguration, so they crossed the bridge to the Astronomy Wing of the castle and made their way to Professor McGonagall's classroom on the ground floor, its entrance tucked into a small corner of the courtyard.
Professor McGonagall glowered at them as they took their seats at the back of the classroom.