September 13, 1971

Okay, so I didn't write much earlier. Not much has been happening outside of class. I haven't quite figured out how to get the boys to leave my classwork alone and they take every opportunity to subtly drive me crazy. Well, at least Remus is still nice to me. I think he may be the reason they don't do bigger pranks on me.

He's doing much better in Transfiguration. I still help him with his casting when he needs it so long as the other boys are elsewhere. I like spending time with him. He's really smart, just really shy and nervous. He's fun to work with.


But, back to the excitement of the day: Flying Lessons!

I was insanely nervous, so was Lily. We walked down to the Quidditch pitch together after lunch, trying to boost each other's confidence, wondering what it will be like.

"Aren't you scared at all?" "I'm worried I won't be any good at it and I'll make a fool of myself." "But aren't you afraid to be so high up? Flying through the air on nothing but a broomstick is utter madness. I'm going to fall!" "You won't fall. Madame Synestra is there to prevent that very thing. Besides, we're only first years and none of the other kids will know anything either." "Potter and Black keep going on and on about how their parents let them play Quidditch every summer. Obviously, this is something that we won't be on equal footing with the kids from magical households." "That doesn't mean we'll be terrible. Come on, aren't you excited even a little bit?"

She wrung her hands in despair and pleaded me with those big green eyes not to judge her.

"I hate heights." "I know that already. But haven't you ever dreamed of flying?"

This was a bigger question than she realized. I had dreamt of soaring through the air since before I could remember. I had always dreamed of flying. Surely I wasn't alone in this as I was in everything else?

"No way. Even when Sev told me what I was I never imagined they'd make me get on a broom!"

My hope crumbled, dashed away. Clearly I am an oddball anywhere I go. It's not just the weather and the magic and being an orphan. Even my mind is completely different from those around me. Will I ever really fit in anywhere?


We got to the pitch and lined up with our house, facing off with the Slytherins as the professor lay broomsticks at our feet.

I was still excited, despite Lily's nervous energy. Severus stood across from us, smiling encouragingly at Lily and scowling at Black who stood just to my right. I had no idea why the boys had lined up right next to me when they seemed to hate me so but I knew it could only be a bad thing.

"Alright first years, hold your right hand over your broom and say 'Up!'"

We did as we were told.

On the first try my broom sailed into my hand. So did Potter's and a few other kids. Black looked seriously irritated that I had bested him at something he had so much more practice at.

"Again."

Everyone tried again with more success.

Poor Lily stood there repeatedly yelling "up" without enthusiasm. She would prolong her moment off the ground for as long as possible and the broom's silent acquiescence to her fears did not encourage her.

"With feeling!"

Finally everyone had their broom in hand and the instructor told us to mount our broom, gripping it firmly.

"Now, on my mark I want you to take off from the ground, hard; hover for a moment and then lean forward slightly and touch back down."

I took off easily and was about to set my feet back on the ground when Black kicked me. My broom took off like a mad thing.

"What are you doing? Get back down here at once!" "Hunter's going for a joy ride." "That's not fair. Black did something to her broom, Professor." Lily took up for me but Black suddenly looked innocent and hurt at the accusation. "It isn't my fault if she can't fly."

But as they were arguing down on the ground I had gained control of my broom and was now steering it back to my peers. I maneuvered it easily through the air and touched down a little ways from where I had initially taken off.

"Miss Hunter, explain yourself." "I'm sorry Professor, I don't know what happened. It was all going so well until I tried to land and then it took off. I seem to have it under control now." "At least you're not hurt. Very good of you to keep your head about you. Five points to Gryffindor."


Black was furious. He had neither hurt me nor gotten me in trouble with the professor. But I had about had enough.

On the way back to the castle I cornered him and his friends, Lily and Severus trailing behind me uncertainly.

"What is your problem?" "What are you talking about, Hunter?" "You could have gotten me killed! I've never been on a broom before you half-wit!" "You seem fine to me." "No thanks to you. I know we got off on the wrong foot but this has got to stop. You are interfering with my lessons and destroying hours of homework and it stops NOW. Do you understand?" "What are you going to do about it?"

Black and I were about to come to blows. This was it. Everything I had read about was useless. The spells we had learned weren't meant for dueling. I wondered if he would hesitate to strike me. I had taken beatings before but I would not lay down and let him trample me without putting up a fight.

"Well?" I wasn't afraid to fight him. But all of a sudden I saw something in those blue eyes, "I'm not going to do anything at all. What is the point of fighting? I haven't done anything to you yet, let's put an end to this before someone gets hurt." Surprise filled his gaze and he backed up before he regained his composure and his usual smirk graced his features once more. "Afraid, Hunter?" "No. I've dealt with worse than the likes of you. But we don't have to be enemies. We've each suffered enough, why add to it? Just leave me alone and we'll call it even."

I turned to walk away then but not before I saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.


It was inevitable really. No matter how we try to hide it, our past looms over us like a shadow. Someone observant is always going to notice eventually.

People who are abused end up one of a few ways.

Some become what they are trained to be and bully others in their turn. Black was like that.

Some retreat into themselves and flinch at any moving shadow.

Others bide their time, building their strength so that when the time comes they won't suffer that fate again. I am one of these.

But we all have a look in our eyes that says we've seen violence we don't deserve and we recognize it in each other no matter how differently we may handle the situation. Black had obviously had a rough childhood and he chose to cope by being as loud and obnoxious as he could be against anyone he felt had a resemblance or connection to his tormentors. Mostly he took his anger out on Slytherins. I had roused his ire when I brought his family into a very stupid argument. I knew to keep my mouth shut and I was dealing with the consequences now.

Now he knew that I had my fare share of experiences as well. He saw it in the way I refused to rise to his baiting. I won't be bullied and I'm not afraid to fight whether it means I get pummeled or not. But I will not fight for the sheer sake of fighting.

Black let his frustration out with his temper. All the things he deals with at home and pins up he lets loose here among his friends and his equals, where he stands a chance.

I could just as easily have turned out like that. I could bully the orphans who looked to me for guidance. I could pick on the kids who didn't pick things up as fast I seem to. I could start fights over nothing. But I had seen enough violence in my life not to bring it about without good cause.


He didn't stop me as I walked back to the castle, Lily and Severus trailing behind me.

"What was that all about?" "I'm tired of him messing with me." "Then why didn't you finish what you tried to start? Aren't you Gryffindors supposed to be brave?" "Bravery and stupidity are often mistaken for the same thing. There's no use starting a fight with him. Violence never solved anything so mundane as Sirius Black." "I think you're right. Besides, if you had gotten in a fight he'd have hurt you and Gryffindor would get in trouble." "You're probably right. Yet another reason not to bother." "What if he doesn't stop messing with your work though?" "Then I really will have to do something." "Tell a professor?" "No. I'm not a rat. I'll just have to think of something more creative than a fist fight."


The rest of my evening was completely uneventful. I finished some reading and reworked one of my essays for Charms and here I am, sitting in bed.

I'm still excited about flying. Even Black can't dampen that. I can't wait to get back on a broom. I wish I could try out for Quidditch.