It's Saturday. I got caught up reading last night and didn't start my school work, so here I am, in the library at ten o'clock. Most students here like to sleep in on Saturdays, or put on their work until Sunday, so it's relatively quiet. There are only approximately ten students working, mostly in pairs. I grab a seat at a solitary wooden table and take my work out of my bag. I have Transfiguration, Potions and Charms homework. I start with the potions, as it is my worst subject by far.
Well, this is easy. All I have to do is look up Polyjuice Potion in my Potions book. It's rather silly how some people make a big deal out of these kinds of things and go through the whole library for the answer when it's right there in their book.
After extracting my heavy potions book from my bag, I begin to flip the pages carelessly, searching for my desired potion. Finally, on the page after The Draught of Peace, I find it. It is a N.E.W.T level potion, but it is in the book for reference. Professor Rowle said he merely wants us to learn the ingredients and such, but personally I think he is looking for a good reason to give us more essays. I skim the page quickly. It's such a dreadful potion, really. And it must taste revolting as well. I dip my black quill into a pot of blue ink – my favorite color – and begin to write the information down on a piece of fresh, crisp parchment, in my own words, of course. I don't want to get a detention with Rowle because of plagiarism.
I continue to write to fill up the required six inches. My handwriting never gets any bigger, because I think it's cheating to write hugely to take up more space. I haven't cheated on anything for as long as I can remember. Not even in a game of chess.
Finally, I finish the last word with a flourish and let out a small "ha!" of triumph. Professor Rowle will be impressed. Hopefully. HE usually favors the Slytherins. You'd think he'd at least appreciate some hard work from the other houses!
I finish the rest of my work during the next two hours. Once I did, I roam about the shelves for a while, looking for a suitable book to read. There is nothing really that interesting. Sighing in frustration, I stop abruptly and pull out a random book from a shelf and stride back to my table. I tend to pick out any book from the library when I'm bored. It's usually something interesting at least. This one was particularly small, entitled "An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms." Good, a Charms book! Charms is my best subject. And it's fun, too. The charms we learn are very useful for future life and are easy, too. I flip open the cover and begin to read the small print.
I've missed lunch. I look at my watch and realize that it is a quarter to two, and my stomach is rumbling loudly. So I decide to try to search for the kitchens again.
I pass by Professor Nigellus as I walk by the Entrance Hall. He sneers at me. My goodness, do we have a rude Headmaster! Just because he is a Slytherin he sneers at anyone who isn't like him? How rude. I glare ferociously back at him and turn around the corner. I am back in the door-less, painting-filled hallway. I think hard as I walk by a portrait of a bowl of fruit. I stop in front of it, tilting my head sideways as I examine it. Suddenly, I get an urge to tickle the pear. Odd. I drag my hand up to the painting then stop abruptly. What am I doing tickling a pear?? And a painting of a pear, nonetheless! Have I gone mentally insane? After pondering upon this for a few seconds, I decide to tickle the pear. What harm could it do? I tickle the pear and it turns into a doorknob! My heart thumps with excitement. Thoughts of the kitchens are blown straight out of my mind as I ponder as to what might be behind this door. I give up on thinking and wrench the door open.
The room I enter is very large. There are many little creatures roaming about, carrying plates and trays of food. I recognize them as house-elves. There are four long tables that are being cleared by the elves as I walk in. Everything is white. The walls are white, the ceiling is white, the floor is white and the tables are white. Even the little togas that the elves wear are white. My mouth is hanging open as I take it all in. Then I realize that this must be the Hogwarts Kitchen!
A little elf spots me and skips over. I think it is a female elf, but I cannot be sure.
"What can Minnie get you, miss?" She asks me ever so politely. I stare at the little elf for a good ten seconds before I realize what she is talking about.
"Could I have two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, please?" I pray that they have it here, as it is my most favorite food.
The elf, Minnie, smiles and says, "One moment, please, miss," and skips off again, presumably to whip up a delicious sandwich. I stand there feeling rather awkward next to all the working elves. I didn't know they made all the food! I wonder why nobody knows about it. There's nothing really wrong about elves working, they seem very happy with what they do. A few minutes later, Minnie comes running back and hands me a plate with two sandwiches and a goblet of pumpkin juice. I thank her profusely and leave the kitchens, munching discreetly as I go. We aren't allowed to eat in the hallways.
I walk back to the Hufflepuff common room, which, I realize, is actually quite close to the kitchens. I can go in there to nip a snack whenever I want now! Grinning with glee, I tell the portrait of Helga Hufflepuff the password and slip inside. It is pretty crowded, since it's not very nice out so no one wants to go outside. I sit down in a squishy black armchair and finish eating the sandwiches.
After I eat I read the book on charms that I found earlier at the library. It is not very interesting after all, just a boring old book about charms from the last century. So now I have nothing to do. I think I will go for a stroll outside. The sun is well hidden behind the grey clouds today, and it is a bit chilly, but I'll go out anyways.
I walk around the black lake and watch the giant squid swimming about. My eyes drag towards the Quidditch pitch.
I had always wanted to try to fly, but never had the guts to. I was always afraid that I would fall off, bump into something or lose control of the broomstick. I was never very brave.
I walk with a determined allure and my head held high. I can do this. It is just sitting on a piece of wood and pushing off the ground, going high in the sky. My stomach churns. I am a little bit afraid of heights. I reach the broom shed and open it. The door creaks. I pick up a decent looking school broom. I don't really know what model it is. I don't ogle at broomsticks like some people do.
I close the door of the shed and walk to the middle of the pitch. What was I supposed to do again? Oh, right. Put the broom on the ground, hold your right hand out and say "up." I put the broom on the ground and put my right hand out above it. My hand is trembling. Stop it, I tell myself. I can do this, I can do this, I chant in my head.
"Up!" The broom shoots upwards into my hand. I swing my right foot over the broom and, without even thinking, I push off the ground.
Flying is a wonderful feeling. The wind is on my face, pushing my hair back, making it stream out behind me. I feel as if I can do anything. Suddenly the broom lurches downwards. I struggle to bring it back up, tugging hard on the handle. There. I'm back in the air, flying straight. I speed up, going higher and higher. I'm above the castle now. I fly past Gryffindor tower. A window is open, and a frowning face is sticking out. It is Albus. I turn around and fly to the window. What on earth does he want? I hover in front of him and cross my arms. Whoa, I'm not even holding on!
"Hey, Al." I greeted him cheerfully.
"Ariana! What in the name of Merlin are you doing?" He asks in an incredulous voice.
"What does it look like I'm doing? Flying!" I answer.
"Yes, I realized that! It's very dangerous! Especially for a girl! Besides, you should be studying." He says. I scowl at him and turn the broom to leave.
"Ariana," he says in a low, dangerous voice. "I do not want to see you flying ever again."
I open my mouth to retort, but then close it. He looks serious. But what's wrong with flying? I shrug and fly back to the broom shed and put away the broom. I'll lay off the flying, for now anyways.
I don't want to go to dinner, but not showing up for two meals in a row will look suspicious. So I drag my feet down to the Great Hall and sit down at the end of the Hufflepuff table. Tonight's dinner is roasted chicken, potatoes, peas, vegetables, and lots of other stuff I have never even seen before. I grab a chicken leg and a spoonful of peas. I don't really like potatoes much. Or vegetables, really. I'm more of a meat eater. But I do love peas, especially if they're burnt. I chew my food slowly, taking care to not eat too quickly or I'll get a stomach ache.
The food at Hogwarts is delicious. I don't know how the elves do it. There aren't really that many, so how do they make so much food in so little time? I think about this as I eat, staring at my plate. I lift my head to serve myself some more peas – and my eyes lock with Edmund Colbert at the Gryffindor table, talking carelessly with his friends. He nods in acknowledgement and returns to his discussion with the boys surrounding him, who obviously had not noticed anything. I do not nod back, because I am numb with shock.
No one has ever acknowledged me in any way, not even my brothers. They only talk to me when it's something like "Mother wrote a letter. She says hi" or "I hope you've finished your school work. You need to get good grades to become a prefect, you know." When I met Edmund two days ago, I wasn't expecting him to think of me again. I thought he was just being polite. Those Gryffindors are very noble, according to Albus and the Sorting Hat.
After I finish eating, I get up and leave the Great Hall. I don't feel like staying in the busy common room, so I go up to my dormitory and sit on my bed. My area of the dormitory is a catastrophe. My bed isn't made and there are dirty robes on it and my school books are strewn all over my open trunk. I really need to clean all this up.
I start with my bed. I put the dirty robes in my laundry bag and carefully make my bed, trying to make it as neat as possible. Once my bed looks presentable, I turn to my trunk. I stare at it in dismay. This will take a while…
Five pieces of crumpled parchment, 2 broken quills, and one spilt inkbottle. What a waste. I throw all of this in the garbage and continue on. I only have one quill left, so I'll buy a few more next Hogsmeade weekend. I also need more parchment. And ink.
After organizing my books by subject and folding my clean robes properly, I close my trunk with a flourish and stare around. My area, compared to the others, is so very neat. I happily bounce down to the common room to check when the next Hogsmeade trip is.
Author's Note: Yeah, I couldn't figure out the Headmaster at this point. Phineas Nigellus seemed appropriate, as he was alive at that point, but is supposedly 18 years old. What do you think of Professor Rowle? Does the name ring a bell?
Please Review!! : )
PS: JKR's the genius, not me, unfortunately…
