From now on, the story will be in first person from Arthur's POV.
~##~
To say that I disliked life at Hogwarts would be an understatement.
I absolutely loathed it.
To start, my fellow students had manners rivaling a stampeding herd of buffalo. In my first year, I had thought, 'Maybe it's because I'm a first year. They'll warm up to me eventually!' Even then I knew that wasn't the case. In all the four houses I saw other first-years getting along with their respective housemates no matter the year. It was just me that got pushed around in the hallways. It was only me that "lost" my school supplies only for them to turn up in the washroom, drenched in (what was hopefully) water and ruined beyond repair. The only house that didn't treat me like garbage was my own house: Slytherin. However, while they didn't mock me or torment me, most simply ignored me; a few would start up a conversation out of civility, but those stopped somewhere around my third year.
Another dreadful aspect of this wretched school was those idiotic nitwits they call a staff. First, there was Professor Flitwick, who had the most ghastly habit of picking favorites based on a student's performance the first day of lessons. Then there was Professor Trelawney; she's well enough, I suppose, but she is far to ditsy and incompetent in functionality to properly teach a group of students. Don't even get me stated on Professor Binns; he isn't even alive, for goodness sake!
Then there is the "decor" around the building. The stairs are never where they are supposed to be, so one could be on their way to class and end up in the dining room. The paintings never stop giggling to themselves whenever I pass by them, and it makes me want to hurl every time it happens. The only one I can stand is a painting of a young farmer, shirtless and tanned, who never fails to greet me with a smile and an offer of an apple from the fruit tree just behind him. I can never accept it, of course, seeing as how it's trapped in a painting, but it's the thought that counts.
All in all, the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was one of the most revolting places on the face of the planet.
With a groan, I heaved myself up from the warm covers of my bed, grabbed my clothes for the day, and made my way to the restroom. No one else was up; I always made it a point to wake up before the rest of my housemates, as to keep from fighting over the showers or, even worse, bathing in front of them. I shuddered at the thought.
Once inside the large bathroom, I shut the door behind me and set my robes down on the counter. I looked in the mirror.
For as long as I can remember I have hated my appearance with an unhealthy passion. My hair, a boring shade of blond, was untidy and ruffled no matter if I spent ten minutes simply combing it. My skin was pale, almost too pale, and reminded me of freshly fallen snow. I hated snow. My eyes were a disgusting green and looked as if I shoved them into a pot of Shrinking Potion and it had permanently stained them. My eyebrows were even more horrendous than the rest of me; they were far too bushy to be considered normal. If all of my brothers hadn't had them as well I would have thought myself hexed.
Tearing my gaze from the mirror, I stripped out of my nightclothes and turned on the shower head. If there was one thing I liked at this bleeding school it was that it had amazing water pressure.
After a thorough cleaning, I hopped out and quickly dried myself off. Then I dressed with the same haste. Even though I spent more than seven hours a week exercising, my body still disgusted me. Maybe I was just doomed to a life of hideousness.
Coming out of the washroom, I dropped onto my bed and checked the time. I still had another hour before I needed to head down to Charms, my first class of the day.
It was already turning out to be a bad day.
~##~
Oh, if only I had known just how bad of a day it was going to be. If I had previous knowledge about the day's events I never would have gotten out of bed.
In Charms, my table partner messed up on a spell and made our poor rabbit, which was our test subject, burst into flames.
In Divination, Trelawney announced to the entire class how well I had done on yesterday's assignment, even going as far as to say that my Sight rivaled her own. The embarrassment alone nearly killed me.
In Defense Against the Dark Arts, which I had with the Gryffindor house, taunts about my bastard birth were seemingly never ending, and some went on to say that I didn't even need this class because I "probably dabbled in it during my spare time" because I was Slytherin. I was quite shocked, since I myself had no idea I participated in the Dark Arts.
It was after dinner, and I was making my way to the Slytherin dorm when a shout sounded from behind me.
"Hey, Arthur! Wait up!"
Who the bloody hell-?
I jerked my head around and my eyes locked onto the person running towards me.
He was a Gryffindor, judging from the red and orange scarf wrapped around his neck. His hair was a dirty blond, almost the color of wheat, and his skin was tanned as if he spent every waking moment outside. His eyes, partially hidden by a pair of red spectacles, were a startling shade of blue.
He looked familiar. Not the "caught glimpses in the hallway" kind, but the "had conversations with" type. That couldn't be, though. I had never seen him before in my life...
...Right?
He slowed to a stop in front of me. A bright smile spread across his face and I cringed. It wasn't ugly or anything, it was just too happy. Who could reflect that much joy into a simple smile?
"Man, can you walk fast! I've been trying to catch up to you ever since you left the dining room." he said, a short laugh following his words. I stayed silent.
"Well, I just wanted to apologize for my fellow Gryffindors. What they said in class earlier wasn't cool, and I wanted to say something then and there but you seemed like you were handling it. Oh! My names Alfred, Alfred F. Jones! It's a pleasure to meet ya!" He continued rambling on about something or other, but I wasn't really paying attention to his words. I just wondered how anyone could talk so long without pausing for a breath.
"Excuse me, Alfred was it?" I interrupted. His mouth shut immediately. "It's rather...kind...of you to apologize for what happened in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I presume that's what you were prattling on about anyway." At this point he seemed like he was going to say something else, so I held up my hand to stop him.
"However, am I right to assume you had not joined in on the taunting?"
A nod.
"If that is the case, then your apologies are unnecessary and not appreciated. Your "act of heroism" is misguided. If your fellow Gryffindors were indeed apologetic they would seek me out themselves to remedy the situation. So far, they have not done so. Your "apology" is hollow and I will not accept it."
By this point, Alfred's mouth was hanging wide open and his eyes were practically bulging out of his skull. I would have laughed if I wasn't so angry.
"Furthermore, I implore you to stop trying to fix your housemates' mistakes. They always talk about how cruel and slimy Slytherins are but they don't realize that they are just as horrible, if not more so. We Slytherins have long since stopped fueling the fire of house hatred, so to speak. Maybe you all should take a page from our book, wouldn't you say?"
His face was at least two shades paler than it had been before.
"Now, this has been a...lovely chat, but I have more important things to do than waste my time trying to explain simple concepts to a Gryffindor." With that, I turned on my heal and continued on my way to the common room, leaving the flabbergasted boy standing alone in the corridor.
The familiar feeling of self-loathing appeared, once again, inside me, this time over how cruelly I had treated that man who only wished to show me simple compassion.
~##~
Constructive criticism is much appreciated, as is editing suggestions over misspellings or awkwardly phrased sentences.
So how is everything coming along so far? Tell me what you think in a review, please!
Updates will probably happen about once a week or so. It really depends on how much schoolwork I have and if said work hasn't killed me.
