A/N: This story was written for The Houses Competition, Year 2, Round 5.
House: Gryffindor
Position: Year 3
Category: Themed—Understanding
Prompt: 8. [Action] Writing
Word count: 4956 words (according to Google docs)
Other notes: This story is slightly AU in that I have written Irma as being autistic, where it is neither confirmed nor denied in the books (after research, it seems likely that she may have had it, based on her obsession with books and mannerisms—that being said, I am not an expert nor do I wish to generalise people). It is also AU in the sense that Rolanda Hooch attended Hogwarts around the 1900s, but it is only known that Irma Pince, Sybil Trelawny, and Filius Flitwick (cameo) attended well before the 1970s at any time. All characters are described as being older in age in the books, hence I went with the flow there :p Potterwords was also used for help with capitalisation, I had to double check that 'backwards' was correct, and as a disclaimer, no, I do not actually think Ravenclaws are stuffy or snobby.
More importantly: This story attempts to explore autism. I really, really, really hope nothing in this is considered discriminatory or offensive, and I have done my best to research everything. Most of the actions in this come from my experiences with autistic students, knowledge of my cousin, and research from both my earlier teaching degree and searches done this last fortnight. I've also gotten help from the first episode of the Netflix show, 'A Typical,' and the movies, 'Rain Man' and 'I Am Sam.' Of course, I understand that autism is a wide spectrum, and every person is unique. More importantly, I know that everyone is beautiful, no matter whether they have autism or not. This subject was not in any way treated lightly for the profit of producing a story, and has been written with the deepest respect and purest intentions; I welcome any input, and apologise for some of the terms characters like Jessica use (and yes, I absolutely detest the use of 'retarded' in general). As much as the theme was to write about a character understanding, I hope this helps in some little way to help other people (including myself) understand the needs of different people.
A huge thank you to my betas, CK (Theoretical-Optimist) and Shiba (Shibalyfe). Thank you, too, for reading this and sorry for the extra-long author's note! :)
Understanding Irma
Rolanda looked around the dormitory, nodding in approval. It was much bigger than her bedroom at home and had none of the fussy lace trimmings that her mother insisted her room should have. The five four-poster beds were neatly made up with crisp, royal blue quilts, and an oak bedside table sat beside each one. On one side of the circular wall there was a large desk, and on the opposite side, there was a small bookshelf.
"It's perfect, isn't it?" one of her roomates—Jessica, she remembered from the sorting ceremony—said, walking over to the bed where her trunk sat. "I think I'm going to love it here."
Rolanda smiled at the brunette and nodded, as did two of her housemates who were already sitting on their beds. The dormitory really was perfect.
"I want my own room."
All four pairs of eyes swivelled in the direction of the door. Standing there with her arms folded across her chest was a rather tall, dark-haired girl. Her hooked nose was wrinkled as she looked around the room, her black eyes surveying the five beds rather than the room's occupants.
Rolanda glanced at the other girls, who simply shrugged. Jessica hopped off her bed and walked over to the girl, a smile on her face.
"I'm afraid no one gets their own room," she said. "But I'm Jessica, and this is Sybil, Maria, and Rolanda. We'll all make sure each other's time here will be the best it can be."
Jessica stuck her hand out for the girl to shake, but the black-haired girl stepped back and kept her arms folded across her chest.
"I'm Irma Pince," she said, staring down at her feet. "I want my own room."
The brunette blinked for a few moments before dropping her hand. Sniffing, she said, "Well, you can't," and turned back to her bed.
The other girls seemed to take her cue and began to unpack their trunks.
Rolanda hesitated for a moment, watching as Irma stood in the doorway, still looking at her shoes. She noticed that the girl was flicking the hair band on her wrist against her skin, over and over again.
She supposed that Irma was shy. After all, when that horrid old hat had been placed on her head, it had told her that most Ravenclaws were independent workers. Perhaps Irma simply needed a little time to get into the swing of things.
Shrugging, Rolanda walked over to her own bed, fresh excitement bubbling within her. Flicking open the locks, she fished around in her trunk. She tossed aside her pyjamas, a few textbooks, and some robes before pulling out what she really wanted: her autographed poster of her favourite Seeker, Eunice Murray, and a small, wooden photo frame.
Sitting the poster on her bed to put up later, Rolanda gently placed the frame on her bedside table and smiled at the sepia-toned people inside.
"Is that your family?" Maria asked.
Rolanda nodded. "This is my mother and my little brother, Charlie."
Leaving her family was the only bad part about coming to Hogwarts. Prior to the arrival of her acceptance letter, she had been responsible for helping her mother take care of her brother. He was a little different to most boys his age, needing just a tad more patience and understanding. Her mother had said that she was going to hire some extra help for him, but it didn't stop her fretting about him any less.
She held her breath as her roommates looked at the photograph, waiting for them to say something. Her brother looked physically the same as other seven-year-olds, yet she always worried his inner differences would be picked up.
"Aww, he's adorable! I wish my brother was. Unfortunately, Cameron is smelly, loud, and ugly," Maria said.
Jessica and Sybil giggled, and soon Rolanda found herself joining in.
Whilst she finished unpacking and got ready for bed, she felt further at ease as her roommates continued laughing about the crazy things their relatives did. None of them seemed to be too stuffy or snobby as she had been told some Ravenclaws could be.
Well, none of them were, except for Irma.
The girl had continued to stand by the door, refusing to accept that she had to share a room. It was only when the female prefect had come by to remind them all that it was time for lights out that Irma finally stalked off to her bed. She didn't return Rolanda's smile, nor did she bother to say goodnight.
It certainly looked to be a challenging year, but Rolanda was sure she would enjoy it.
"Ugh, double Potions. At least we don't have to contend with Gryffindors accidentally blowing up our cauldrons today."
Rolanda turned her head from the Great Hall's large, stained-glass windows to Jessica. The brunette was currently running her hand through her hair as she crossed off a list of things she had to do that day. Leaning over, she saw that, as usual, there were a few extra items on it that Jessica really didn't need.
"'Number six: Practice flying on a broom.' I'm personally delighted that you're finally going to try, but why the change in heart?" Rolanda asked.
She had been trying for the last two months to get Jessica on a school broom, and it seemed too good to be true that she was now finally getting through to her.
"Well, there are rumours that they're introducing flying to the first-years' curriculum, and I want to be prepared in case it's true," Jessica said.
"I think that's one thing I do hope is true," she replied, grinning.
When a screech from overhead sounded, Rolanda ignored Jessica as she rolled her eyes and turned back to the windows. A hundred or so owls came soaring in, and she eagerly looked for her familiar, yellow-eyed barn owl.
She smiled when Epson flew towards her, a letter clutched in his beak. Pushing her bowl of half-eaten porridge towards him when he landed, she untied the envelope from his outstretched leg and tore it open.
Dearest Ro,
I hope you are well and keeping your grades up as promised.
Charlie and I are missing you dearly. He had his first day at a new school yesterday—this time, I think it went really well. He was a little reluctant, but once he was settled in, I was able to leave. The Muggle school seems like a good choice to get him into a routine and start to interact with other children. They use slate boards there rather than parchment, so I'm hoping that he will not dislike the feel of chalk too much.
I'll send your monthly care package next week, but please make sure you are eating what they serve you; I'm sure it's there to provide plenty of nutrition.
Love always,
Mamma.
"Anything good?" Maria asked, taking a seat opposite her.
Rolanda turned her smile to the blonde and winked. "The care package will come next week."
Maria grinned. "Now that's something to look forward to."
"It seems that you're not the only one waiting for something to arrive. Would you look at her? Pathetic. As if anyone would actually be writing to her," Jessica said.
Rolanda followed her gaze further down the Ravenclaw table to where Irma was sitting. The girl's eyes were focused, unblinking, on the owls soaring around the ceiling. None of the birds were landing near her, but she seemed almost entranced by their fluttering movements.
"Merlin, she's even weirder than Sybil," Maria said.
The two girls burst into giggles as the raven-haired girl continued to stare upwards.
Rolanda turned to her letter, her own grin fading. Charlie loved to stare at moving objects, too, but for a different reason. She feared that he would be doing that at school now, and the students would be making fun of him. He wasn't old enough to know any different.
"It's like she's never seen an owl before," Maria said, tears streaming down her cheeks from her laughter.
"At least she's not predicting our deaths every five minutes," Jessica said. "Anyway, let's get back down to business. I need to somehow find out what next term's Transfiguration curriculum will be. Any ideas, Rolanda?"
Rolanda shook her head, clearing it of thoughts of Charlie. She was sure her brother would be alright—at least, she hoped he would be. School could certainly be rough.
Rolanda's hands were cramping, but a glance at the clock told her they still had half an hour to go before she could stop writing. Sighing, she dipped her quill into her ink pot and continued transcribing the paragraph on correctly brewing the Cure for Boils.
"Alright, class, quills down. We can finish this later; I've just discovered another use for the Wiggenweld Potion on plants."
She didn't need to be told twice. Throwing down her quill, Rolanda joined the rest of the class in breathing a sigh of relief. She stretched her arms as she looked up at a rather excited Professor Swoopstikes.
"I've been practising for the last few weeks now," he said, waving around a glass phial. "If you see here—Miss Pince, you can stop writing now."
Rolanda looked at the back of the room where Irma was sitting by herself. Her hand was flying over her parchment, dark hair falling in front of her face. If it wasn't for the way the girl shook her head, just once, she would have assumed that she hadn't heard the professor.
"Miss Pince? Your attention please."
Irma continued writing. "No."
A mixture of gasps and giggles echoed around the room. Glancing at Professor Swoopstikes, Rolanda saw that his moustache was beginning to twitch. It was a bad sign, for the professor was usually patient—even with Irma, who so far that term had refused to work with anyone in partnered tasks.
"I beg your pardon? Please put down your quill."
The girl lifted her quill as though she was going to put it down. Instead, she dipped the emerald-green feather into her ink pot three times and placed the tip back on her parchment.
"Who does she think she is?" Jessica whispered.
Rolanda shrugged, her eyes glancing between Professor Swoopstikes, whose cheeks were now red, and Irma, who dipped her quill into her ink pot another three times.
"No. It's not what we do. You said to write; I need to write," Irma said.
A few more gasps sounded at her defiance. Professor Swoopstikes took a few deep breaths and marched up to Irma's desk. The girl still didn't glance up as he leaned over it.
"Miss Pince, quill down, now," he said.
He tried to take her quill, and she finally looked up. With narrowed eyes, Irma held onto the quill, shaking her head back and forth.
"No, no, no," she repeated.
"Oh Merlin, what is wrong with her?" Maria said, leaning over the back of her chair. "Did someone say, 'freak?'"
Snickers now erupted around the room. Rolanda couldn't drag her eyes away from Irma, however, her stomach twisting. She knew that the girl was a little strange—she didn't even laugh at the jokes the other students sometimes told—but there was something vaguely familiar about the way she began to rock back and forth.
"No, no, no. It's not routine."
The professor released the quill and threw his hands up. "Fine! That's twenty points from Ravenclaw," he said, storming back down the aisle of desks. "Scholars, since your peer is so enthusiastic about writing, I'd like for you all to continue copying the passages until the end of class."
It was groaning that filled the classroom this time as everyone picked up their quills. A few people shot glares at Irma's desk, but the girl seemed to have calmed down at the news that she could keep writing.
"Ugh, she doesn't even care," Jessica muttered.
Rolanda sighed and picked up her quill. The Cure for Boils had more steps than she thought a simple potion would have, and she wasn't nearly done copying them out.
As she started writing, however, she found her eyes sliding back towards Irma. The girl had ceased rocking, and she watched as she dipped her quill into the ink again. The action was prompting her to make a connection to something—or someone.
She turned back to her work, but before long, she was watching her again. Something was niggling at the back of her mind, and she waited until the girl needed more ink. Sure enough, when the girl dipped the feather into the ink pot exactly three times, she realised she had seen someone make such a repetitive motion before.
"Back to work please, Miss Hooch," Professor Swoopstikes said.
Rolanda focused back on her parchment, her mind whirring. If she was right, it would explain why Irma was so difficult to get to know.
"One, two, and… yes, three," Rolando muttered to herself, jotting down the number on a piece of parchment.
She quickly glanced back across the field, not wanting to miss anything important. So far, everything she had seen seemed to fit her theory.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing?"
Rolanda jumped and held the parchment close to her chest. With her left hand, she shielded her eyes from the sun and looked up at her friend.
"Nothing, Jess, just a little research."
The brunette raised an eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips. "What subject?"
"Er, just an extra project," Rolanda said.
She watched Jessica's face, prepared for the girl to get upset over not being told there was a chance to gain extra credit—or worse, to demand to see what she was working on. To her relief, however, the girl simply rolled her eyes and held up the broom in her hands.
"I thought you would be jumping at the chance to teach me how to fly," she said. "Filius and his friends are starting to get on my nerves. They say girls can't fly well, and I need you to show them a thing or two."
"I will, I just…"
Rolanda glanced over at Irma, who was sitting a few metres away. Every time Professor Beery would blow his whistle, the girl would flick the hair-band on her wrist three times. Her eyes were still gazing up at the students who were zipping around on their broomsticks, though, and a look of awe was on her face.
Jessica seemed to have followed her gaze because she soon let out a snort. "Little Perfect Pince is sitting by herself again. Can she get any weirder?"
"I don't know, maybe she just needs a little helping hand," Rolanda said, folding the parchment in half. Placing it in her robes pocket, she stood up and dusted off her long grey skirt. "I might go and see if she's okay."
"Er, hello, you're supposed to be helping me? Anyway, I don't know why you're bothering; that girl is just so…"
It was Rolanda's turn to raise a thin, blonde eyebrow. "So what?"
Jessica looked around before leaning in. "She's not like us if you know what I mean," she whispered.
"I think I do."
The brunette grinned. "If you ask me, they should've sent her away a long time ago. She's just not right in the head."
Rolanda felt her heart quicken, the blood rushing up to her neck and face.
"Not everyone is," she said, taking a deep breath.
"Pardon?"
"Excuse me, I have to go."
Taking a few more deep breaths, Rolanda marched over to Irma, who was still focused on the broomsticks. She stood over the girl for a few moments, but when she didn't look up, she took a seat on the grass next to her.
"Hi, Irma, what are you doing sitting over here?" she asked.
The girl shrugged her shoulders. "It's too noisy."
"I know what you mean," Rolanda said.
As much as she loved the excitement that flying brought, the shrill sound of the whistle often hurt her ears. She made a mental note to research ways to make the sound less piercing for everyone and smiled at Irma. The girl had turned to her at those words, but there was no smile on her face.
"What are you looking at?" Rolanda asked.
Irma turned back to the sky. "The broomsticks."
"Do you like flying? I could teach you how to," she said.
Irma shook her head back and forth. "No, I don't want to," she said, snapping the band around her wrist again and still shaking her head.
Rolanda quickly placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, but when she shrugged it off, she said, "It's okay, you don't have to if you don't want to."
"I don't want to."
"Okay, we won't."
She sighed, realising getting to know her would be tougher than she thought.
"Wow, Jeremy Boot flew really high just then," she said, trying again.
Irma finally smiled.
"What do you like about flying?" Rolanda asked, pausing on the word 'flying.' She didn't want to set Irma off again.
"I like owls. They can turn their heads one hundred and thirty-five degrees in either direction."
"Huh, I didn't know that," she said. "My brother loves owls, though."
Irma turned to her, opening and closing her mouth. Rolanda could see that she wanted to ask something, but the girl's dark eyes were now trained on the grass.
"Is he… Is he like me?" she eventually asked.
Rolanda smiled again, even though she knew Irma wouldn't see it. "I think so. His name is Charlie. He's very special, my brother, even if sometimes people don't realise it. He knows a lot of things about owls."
"I know a lot of things about owls," Irma said, looking up.
"What are their favourite foods?"
Irma's eyes lit up. "Owls love small mammals, but some species eat other owls. They chew up creatures and then regurgitate them."
"That makes sense. My owl, Epson, loves to eat mice and leave me the remains." Rolanda shuddered at the memory of often finding mice carcasses on her pillow at home. "Would you like to meet him?"
Rolanda held her breath, watching Irma carefully. She didn't want to frighten the girl again. However, she also knew that when they had found out her brother was different, her mother had suggested introducing him to something he liked. At the time, Charlie had been obsessed with trains, and had opened up when they had shown him the Hogwarts Express back in September. Although the crowds had been a little much, he had been excited to see the scarlet engine. Rolanda hoped that by introducing Irma to her owl, she would also open up.
Thankfully, Irma looked just as excited as she had at the mention of owls. "I'd like that."
Rolanda smiled. "Okay, excellent. How about I show you tomorrow at breakfast?"
"What time?"
"Seven-thirty?"
"Okay." Irma broke eye contact again and turned back to watching the brooms whizzing around.
Rolanda laid back, tilting her face to the sun. Now that she knew that Irma was a bit like Charlie, she knew how she could help the girl transition into life at Hogwarts a little better.
"You're late."
"It's seven-thirty now," Rolanda said, glancing at her watch.
Irma shook her head vehemently, pointing to the clock above the staff table. "It's been seven thirty for twenty-seven seconds. You promised seven-thirty on the dot."
Rolanda wanted to roll her eyes but refrained from doing so. Irma was perhaps a little too much like Charlie. Her brother didn't know how to tell the time yet, but he often took things literally. When their mother had said something about a "different kettle of fish" a few months earlier, Charlie had spent the week looking in the teapot for salmon.
With a sigh, she forced a smile on her face and sat down, ignoring the whispers of her fellow students.
"Well, I'm here now and soon, so will Epson."
It seemed to do the trick, for Irma nodded. "Good."
Right on cue, the screeching of owls soon filled the room, and both she and Irma turned their eyes to the ceiling. Rolanda searched for the familiar barn owl, smiling when she saw him come in with a copy of The Daily Prophet attached to his legs.
He soared towards their position at the very end of the table, landing on the empty surface next to the girls. Rolanda took the paper from him and picked up a piece of toast from the plate that appeared in front of her.
"Do you want to feed him?" she asked.
Irma was staring at Epson. She nodded slowly, and Rolanda held out the toast for her. When Irma hesitated, she placed the toast on the table instead.
The girl picked it up and held it out for the owl. Epson's yellow eyes narrowed in on it, and in the blink of an eye, he took the toast from her outstretched hand. Irma herself blinked, but after a quick glance at Rolanda, she gently reached forward and stroked his feathers.
Rolanda wasn't prepared for what happened next. As Epson gave a delighted shriek, Irma flinched and clapped her hands over her ears.
"I don't like it! I don't like it!" Irma shouted.
"Shh, it's alright."
"It's not nice, not nice, not nice," the girl repeated, her voice growing louder.
Rolanda's cheeks grew hot as she tried to quieten both Epson and Irma. She was aware that quite a few people were now staring at them, and she feared what the professors would think. So far, none of them seemed to have realised that Irma wasn't just a stubborn student begging for attention, perhaps because what was different about her was just as uncommon in the wizarding world as it was in the Muggle world.
In all the excitement, Epson continued hooting, and anyone in the Great Hall who hadn't been staring at them was now. Rolanda shooed the bird away, sighing as he finally took the hint and flew off. She then turned to Irma, begging for her to calm down.
"He's gone now," she said.
Irma shook her head back and forth. "The feathers, they're nasty," she said. "I don't like them."
"The feathers?" Rolanda looked around the table, not spotting any.
Around them, no one was bothering to keep their voices down.
"What's wrong with her?"
"Is she retarded or something?"
Rolanda's cheeks burned even more. There was nothing wrong with Irma. She was just like Charlie… wasn't she? What had gone wrong?
A hand settled on her shoulder, and she turned to see Professor Swoopstikes looking down at her. "I think it's best if we get Irma to settle down, don't you?"
She went to shake her head, to tell the professor what Irma needed, but realised that perhaps she didn't know after all. She simply nodded and looked back at the distressed girl, her heart sinking.
Rolanda pushed her bowl of porridge away, no longer in the mood to eat. Even though she tried not to look further down the table, she found her eyes continuously wandering over to where Irma was sitting.
The girl was eating her breakfast, the memories of the previous day seemingly forgotten. Part of her was relieved that Irma had been allowed to stay at the school. She'd been worried that she would have been asked to leave—or worse, sent to one of those homes that the authorities often threatened Charlie with. Thankfully, Irma had simply received a detention for her behaviour. Since the incident, however, Rolanda had tried to avoid her, wary that she would make things worse.
She flinched when the screeching of owls came from overhead. Glancing over at Irma again, sure that she would start yelling, she saw that the girl was looking back up at the owls, her eyes sparkling with their usual excitement.
Rolanda shook her head and looked back up at the owls. She soon spotted Epson soaring towards her, a letter tied around his left leg. He nipped at her finger as she took the letter, still unhappy about being banished from the table the day before. Nevertheless, a small smile appeared on her face as she saw her mother's elegant cursive.
Dearest Ro,
I'm glad to hear that you are well and am looking forward to having you back for the Christmas holidays.
Charlie is doing well. I'm afraid there have been a few mishaps here and there—he was rather flustered when the teacher would not allow him to use his left hand for writing, let alone write about his latest love of dinosaurs. I suppose, though, that Muggle arithmetic is more about numbers, isn't it? We'll just have to take it in our stead and wait for the good days to come. He is taking to some of the older students, and I know with a little patience and the trial of new ideas, all will be well.
I'm looking forward to hearing all about the adventures at your school.
Love, Mamma.
By the time she finished, Rolanda's smile had grown. She wasn't sure if she knew it or not, but her mother had provided her with the kick she needed. She couldn't give up on Irma; not when her mother refused to give up on Charlie and all the challenges he provided.
With another glance to see that Irma was still watching the flying owls, she rummaged around her satchel for a quill and parchment. If she was going to help the girl, she needed some help herself.
"This isn't part of my day. I don't want to go."
"Please Irma, you'll love it, trust me," Rolanda said.
She was itching to grab the girl's hand and tug her along, but she knew that, just like Charlie, Irma didn't like physical contact. Instead, she settled for urging the girl along through the hallways, repeating over and over that she wouldn't regret it.
At least, she hoped she wouldn't. Her mother had given her the idea, and Rolanda had thought it was absolutely brilliant. It seemed she was about to find out if Irma agreed, anyway.
"We're not allowed here," Irma said. "It's not homework time."
Rolanda smiled at her and held open the doors to the library. "It's okay, we're allowed to visit during lunch."
"We'll get into trouble."
"No, really, it's okay."
She walked through the doors, waiting for Irma to follow her inside. The girl hesitated for a long moment, but she finally took a step in. Rolanda shut the door quietly behind them, and then led her towards a section at the back.
"Look, I have a surprise for you—Irma?" Turning around, she saw that the girl was standing near one of the desks.
"This is my seat," she said, tugging on a chair.
Rolanda held in a sigh, raking a hand through her short hair. She had planned to show Irma what she had found before the first half of lunch was over, but it seemed it would take much longer than she thought. She kept her mother's words in her head, however, and reminded herself that patience was key.
"You don't have to sit here today," she said, smiling at Irma. "I have something different to show you. A surprise—a good surprise."
Irma stared at her chair, dancing from foot to foot. Rolanda held her breath as she waited to see if she would refuse and sit down, but thankfully, the girl nodded.
"Okay."
"Follow me, just over here."
Rolanda walked backwards to one of the middle aisles of the library. When she was sure that Irma was following, she turned around and checked the area. She had removed the flickering candles from the section, asking one of the professors to open up the windows for natural light instead.
Plucking out the tome she had found the day before, she held it out to Irma.
"What is that?" the girl asked, staring at the book.
Rolanda grinned, opening the book to a ribbon-marked page. Holding it up for the girl to see, she pointed to the large, flapping picture of an eagle owl.
Irma's eyes lit up, and she reached for it. Rolanda laughed as she watched Irma run a finger over the picture, her own rosy lips pulling into a grin.
"All of these books," Rolanda waved an arm around the section of the library, "are about owls and how to care for them. A lot of them have pictures, too, that are detailed just like the real animals. Their pages are smooth, though, so you don't have to feel the nasty feathers."
Irma glanced up for a moment, nodding. "I like owls."
Rolanda winked and pulled out another book. "This one tells you all about Australian owls."
The girl reached for the book and flipped through the pages, exclaiming at the different things she read and saw. Like Charlie, she appeared to be a fast reader, and she was sure that the next time she saw her, Irma would have many more facts to share.
"Would you like me to stay and show you some more?" she asked.
The girl shook her head, and Rolanda didn't press the issue. Still smiling, she headed back down the aisle, watching as Irma sat on the carpet and poured over the books.
The library would be the girl's safe space, away from the torments of their peers, teachers, and even life itself. Rolanda was sure that there would still be days when all was not well, but now that she understood that, just like Charlie, Irma needed to do things in her own time and way, she could make others understand as well.