Question time!
Q: do you listen to any specific music when you write? :)
A: Well, I've been listening to an almost unhealthy amount of Queen for the past month, preparing for Bohemian Rhapsody to be released in theaters. (By the way, great movie, please go see it) But other than that I usually have some show I've already seen playing in the background on Netflix.
If you have any questions you want answered, don't be afraid to leave them in the down in the reviews, or to slide into those dm's!
Lot's of love,
~Kiwi
Breakfast in the Great Hall was an interesting affair. Aside from the many glares she got from the Slytherin table, there was also Ginny's reaction to the infamous Harry Potter, her older brother Ron receiving a howler, and the distribution of class schedules.
"That can't be right, Rosa," Estelle queried, pushing her round glasses up her nose. "How come you're in second year Transfiguration?"
"My mother had me tutored in the magical arts over the course of the past year." Rosalind winced away from her friends questions, rolling her schedule up and putting it in her bag. "I also have second year Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Charms."
"Is everyone in your family as big an egghead as you?" Colin teased, taking a spoonful of porridge.
"I'm not even that bad," Rosalind defended herself, ears growing red. "My brother, Stygian? He's the know-it-all."
"Has he talked to you since the sorting?" Ginny asked, her voice unusually soft as she looked up the table to where her brother was sitting with his friends.
"Not yet," Rosalind sighed, picking unenthusiastically at her breakfast. "I'll have to corner him later."
After a dull introductory class to History of Magic, the Gryffindor first years returned to the great hall for a light lunch. Rosalind wasn't feeling particularly hungry, so she went out into the courtyard with Colin for a game of gobstones.
"Did you hear Ginny talking about Harry Potter at breakfast?" Colin gushed, throwing down his stone.
"Don't remind me," Rosalind moaned, making a move. "I doubt she'll ever stop talking about him."
"He's not so bad," Colin argued, looking strangely at her. "At least, I hope not. Hey, think he'd let me get a photo with him?"
"I don't see why not," Rosalind smiled encouragingly. "Why don't you ask him later?"
"No can do," Colin stood up, bouncing in place as he took out a muggle camera from his bag. "I've got enough drive to go now!"
Rosalind watched, flabbergasted, as Colin walked across the courtyard to where Harry Potter was sitting with his friends, and introduced himself. She was too far away to hear what he was saying, but the desperate look on Harry Potter's face as Draco Malfoy and Gilderoy Lockhart joined their circle was worth all the jelly slugs in Honeydukes. For a split second she thought Harry Potter was looking right at her, but she blinked and the illusion was over.
Waving goodbye to Colin from across the courtyard, Rosalind walked over to Lockhart's classroom as the final bell went off. She joined the flood of students trickling into the classroom, and found herself sitting down in the front row, near the teacher's desk. On her left was a confused looking second year, and on her right was an empty space.
"Now, now," Professor Gilderoy Lockhart chuckled as people milled around, looking for seats. "Harry, that won't do!"
The class turned back to where Harry was sitting with his friends.
"I want you near me, at the front of the room!" Lockhart gestured towards the empty seat next to Rosalind, and she tried not to moan.
Harry Potter turned red as he gathered his books and walked to the front of the class, plopping down next to Rosalind and heaving a sigh. Looking past her, he nodded to the other boy in their row. "Hey, Neville."
"Hey, Harry," Neville managed a meek smile at Harry, but it fell from his face as he briefly made eye contact with Rosalind. She tried to give him an encouraging smile, but Neville was looking past her, fearful eyes fixed on Professor Lockhart.
When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.
"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"
He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.
"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books — well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about — just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in —"
When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes — start —now!"
Rosalind looked down at her paper and read:
1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?
2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?
3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?
"For the love of Merlin," Rosalind groaned as she flipped through the three full pages of Lockhart oriented questions. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry look over at her, and chose to ignore him. Instead of answering the test questions, she opted to draw an intricate drawing of a fairy over the entirety of the from page.
Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class. Rosalind had all but lost interest at this point, and took out her transfigurations book, reading it in her lap. It wasn't until Lockhart bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it, that Rosalind started paying attention.
"Now — be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."
On Rosalind's right, Harry Potter leaned forward slightly in anticipation, a drastically different reaction from the boy on her left, Neville, who was cowering into the corner.
"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."
As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.
"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."
One of the students couldn't control themselves. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.
"Yes?" He smiled at him.
"Well, they're not — they're not very —dangerous, are they?" he choked.
"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, wagging a finger annoyingly at the student. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"
The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.
"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!"
And he opened the cage. It was pandemonium.
The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, up-ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling. Rosalind barely managed to stuff her books into her bag and dove under her seat for cover.
"Come on now — round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart shouted.
He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"
It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the chandelier gave way.
The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry, Hermione, and Rosalind, who were almost at the door, and said, "Well, I'll ask you three to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.
"Can you believe him?" bristled Rosalind as one of the remaining pixies bit her painfully on the ear.
"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Hermione, immobilizing two pixies at once with a clever Freezing Charm and stuffing them back into their cage.
"Hands on? "said Harry, who was trying to grab a pixie dancing out of reach with its tongue out. "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing —"
"Rubbish," said Hermione. "You've read his books — look at all those amazing things he's done —"
"He says he's done," Rosalind muttered with a glance over at the older students.
Hermione sighed and froze the last of the pixies, but Harry managed to give her a small smile.
"You're the hatstall, aren't you?"
Rosalind snorted as the three of them headed out of the classroom. "Is that what they're calling me? Just a hatstall?"
Hermione muttered something about finding Ron and ran off ahead of Harry and Rosalind.
"I wouldn't know," Harry Potter admitted, watching his friend run ahead. "But whenever there's some gossip that's not related to me, I take the time to enjoy it."
"Don't expect it to last," Rosalind laughed, nodding back toward the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. "I can't help but think that some people want to change that."
"Right," Harry Potter winced, but he was smiling as he looked at Rosalind. "Where are you off to?"
"Second year Transfiguration," Rosalind replied without needing to look at her schedule.
"How come you get to skip an entire level?"
"Tutoring," she shrugged. "Mother got her boss to write an appeal to Dumbledore, and he agreed to make it work."
Harry Potter nodded, pausing as the reached the gaggle of students outside outside the transfiguration classroom.
"By the way," Rosalind stuck her hand out, "I'm Rosalind Arcturus Black."
"Harry James Potter," Harry took her hand and gave it a shake, "But you knew that."
"Careful, now," Rosalind teased as she walked towards the classroom. "No one likes a self-centered savior."
Harry rolled his eyes and waved goodbye, walking over to his friends on the other side of the room, leaving Rosalind to find herself a desk.
"Good afternoon, students."
All eyes turned towards the front of the room as Professor McGonagall stood up from her desk. Her eyes lingered on Rosalind for a moment, and she made a note on the paper in front of her before surveying the rest of the class.
"Do refrain from making yourselves comfortable," she said, pulling out her wand. "I have prepared a seating arrangement, as to enhance the classes productivity."
With a flick of her wrist, name tags materialized out of thin air, two per a desk. The class let out a simultaneous groan, but no one complained as everyone walked around the classroom, searching for their names.
Rosalind found her names on a desk near the front of the room, and snuck a look at her desk mate.
"Harry Potter!" she called out to the wizard, waving him over.
"This can't be a coincidence," Harry shook his head, sitting down and casting a look behind him at his friends.
"Oh, I'm sure Professor McGonagall specifically plotted with Gilderoy Lockhart to have the two of us sit by each other in their classes," Rosalind rolled her eyes at Harry with a grin, taking out her quill and a roll of parchment. "After all, they seem incredibly fond of each other."
Harry snorted but didn't say anything as Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, drawing the attention of the class to the front of the room.
"Welcome," she began, eyes slowly surveying the class, "to Second year Transfiguration class. I expect each of you to be in your seats, quills at the ready, by the start of every class. Today, we will be reviewing common transfigurations from the previous school year, and take a quiz on the Transfiguration Alphabet."
The class let out an audible groan as Professor McGonagall flicked her wrist, summoning a blackboard to the front of the room.
"Now, now," she tutted with an amused look at the students. "This will be a popcorn quiz."
Rosalind shot a confused look at Harry, who shrugged in response.
"Miss Parvati Patil!"
One of the Gryffindors in the back of the room stood up, nervously playing with her long, black braid.
"What is the incantation you would use to transfigure your target into a bird?"
Parvati bit her lip nervously, eyes narrowing in concentration. "Avifors?"
Professor McGonagall gave her a nod, and Parvati sank into her seat with a sigh of relief.
"Mister Longbottom!"
Neville stood up quickly, his chair scraping the stone floor with a deafening squeak. "Y-yes Professor?"
"What is the wand movement used to cast Avifors?"
Next to Neville, Hermione's left hand shot up into the air eagerly, while her right hand scribbled something down onto her parchment.
"In a moment, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall held up her hand to the eager second year.
Neville snuck a glance at Hermione's parchment. "Is it, a figure eight?"
"Just any figure eight?" Professor McGonagall coaxed, looking pointedly at Neville.
Hermione jumped up, unable to contain her excitement. "A sideways figure eight!"
Professor McGonagall sniffed. "Correct, Miss Granger. However, I do not condone shouting out in my classroom, and would hate to have to take points away from my own house."
Hermione sat down, her face turning pink. Professor McGonagall smiled kindly at her for just a moment, before resuming her stern gaze. She took a moment to look around the classroom for her next target, before settling on Rosalind.
"Miss Black."
Rosalind took a deep breath before standing up straight. It took most of her willpower to stop her legs from trembling as Professor McGonagall gazed at her intently.
"Recite the transfiguration formula."
The class broke into quite giggles and mutters as the second years watch Rosalind. Hermione's hand immediately shot into the air, where it waved frantically.
"That's a hard one," Parvati Patil's whisper from the back of the room caused Rosalind to scoff.
"The transfiguration formula," Rosalind stood up straight and spoke out loud as she held Professor McGonagalls gaze. "The intended transformation is directly influenced by bodyweight (a), viciousness (v), wand power (w), concentration (c), and a fifth unknown variable (Z)."
The class stared silently at Professor McGonagall, waiting to see if the first year had gotten it right.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rosalind saw Hermione slowly lowering her raised hand.
"Well, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall didn't take her eyes of Rosalind as she addressed the other student. "Did Miss Black say the correct answer?"
"She did," Hermione said in a flat voice, but she was staring at Rosalind curiously.
Professor McGonagall nodded once. "Indeed. Have a seat Miss Black."
"How did you know that?" Harry whispered as she sat down onto the bench with a dull thud.
"How do you not?" Rosalind teased back, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hands. "That's first level transfiguration, Harry Potter."
"Oh, and Miss Black?"
Both Rosalind and Harry sat up straight as Professor McGonagall called her name.
"Yes, Professor?"
"See me after class, please."
Rosalind's face fell, and she looked down at her empty roll of parchment. Was she in trouble for talking? As Professor McGonagall continued quizzing students, she took frantic notes, ignoring Harry Potter. When they were reviewing turning beetles into buttons, Rosalind made hers as intricate as possible when Professor McGonagall came around to examine them, looking up at the woman for a sign of approval. But Professor McGonagall merely glanced at the button before continuing surveying the rest of the class.
When the bell finally rang for the class to end, the seconds years began filing out of the room, anxious to get to the great hall for dinner.
"Want us to wait for you?" Harry Potter offered as Rosalind tucked away her book and scroll into her bag.
"No, it's ok," Rosalind shook her head. "I wouldn't want to hold up you and your friends."
"Are you sure?" Harry blinked, and Rosalind look up at him. Green eyes met green eyes for a split second, and she looked away quickly.
"Yeah, I'm sure."
"Well, alright." Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and walked away with a wave.
He walked up the Ron and elbowed him in the side, and the three of them headed out of the classroom with the others. Hermione's urgent, "Who is she?" echoed back to Rosalind as she walked up to Professor McGonagalls desk, where the Professor was looking over a scroll of parchment.
"You wanted to see me, Professor McGonagall?" Rosalind tried not to let her nervousness show in her voice as her sweaty palms played anxiously with the ends of her robes.
"Yes," Professor McGonagall flicked her wand, and a chair pulled up next to Rosalind. "Have a seat, Miss Black."
Rosalind took a deep breath as she sat down on the edge of the seat, gripping the ends of her robes. "Professor, am I in trouble?"
Professor McGonagall looked up at her, amusement in her eyes. "Whyever would you think that, Miss Black?"
Rosalind only shrugged, focusing hard on the inkwell on the Professor's desk.
Professor McGonagall shook her head, but smiled as she spoke to Rosalind. "Miss Black, I simply wanted to congratulate you. It's not often a first year manages to advance an entire year in three subjects."
"My brother managed to do more," Rosalind sighed, not looking up from the inkwell.
"Yes, your family seems to be an exception," Professor McGonagall agreed with the slightest of chuckles. "Regardless, I simply wanted to ask you if you are certain you are ready for second year transfiguration."
"You don't think I can do it," Rosalind looked up, taking the challenge personally.
"I must admit," Professor McGonagall admitted, sitting back in her chair, "I had some concerns placing a first year in a second year course. That was why I asked you for the transfiguration formula."
"I seemed to manage it just fine," Rosalind huffed, crossing her arms.
"It would be unfortunate if we had no choice but to take away house points if you were unable to keep up," Professor McGonagall raised an expectant eyebrow at Rosalind.
"It would be," Rosalind agreed, putting her crossed arms up on the Professor's desk. "It's a good thing you won;t need to do that."
"Indeed," Professor McGonagall leaned forward, resting her arms on her desk and leaning down till she was at eye level with Rosalind. "Miss Black, I think you'll do just fine in this class."
Rosalind smirked up at Professor McGonagall. "So do I."