CHAPTER THIRTEEN: The Not-Friends Phase

When I say I've been suffering, I've been suffering.

Cut off from the outside world. No fellyvision, no Owling—my mother charmed up my doors and windows so I couldn't receive Owls—it was torture.

I was extremely happy when August came around the corner. My father was happy to take us shopping because the goblins adore him at Gringotts.

I was more than happy to board the train with my eagle owl in the cage, glowering at me. She wanted to stretch out her wings, but mother refused. She didn't trust me—so, Athena flew around the house, and it ended up horribly. Let's just say Louis broke his arm due to her.

"Goodbye mum, goodbye dad," I said, giving them a final kiss and hug. I slipped away, my sister walking towards her friends.

She was starting fourth year, and I was starting third year. Hogsmeade.

Wait. Hogsmeade—I forgot to ask them for the permission slip!

I dropped all my stuff, and dashed towards a window. The train wasn't starting yet.

"Mum! Dad! The Hogsmeade slip! You didn't sign it!"

A look of realization came on their faces, but my mother looked stiff.

"No," She said. "'Ou are grounded, remember?"

"But, mum! That happened two years ago! I was eleven when I snuck out, and I was in second year when I stopped Vic!"

"Still," My mother said, but my father turned to her. Perhaps she didn't know the fun of Hogsmeade because she was stuck at the uptight Beauxbatons.

"C'mon. She's a kiddo. Hogsmeade is fun. Look, Dom, we'll Owl you the permission slip, OK? First thing Monday morning."

I was still unsure, but I nodded. I nearly fell when the train went to a lurch. I waved and blew kisses, and picked up my stuff and fished around for an empty compartment.

Where were my friends? Where's Alex and Mary?

I was growing nervous. Perhaps I should pick up my stuff and look for them.

Suddenly, a mousy little first year slid open the compartment door and confidently walked in.

His untidy, dark hair looked familiar and his large hazel eyes were filled with mischief.

"Cousin Dom," He said, clearly shocked. "Whatchu doing here?"

"What are you," I corrected carefully. "And I go here—oh, yes. I forgot you turned eleven because I couldn't even receive owls!"

"Why didn't you go to my birthday?"

"I was grounded. I couldn't even visit my cousin's first eleventh birthday—well, never mind that. Sit, will you?"

James looked unsure.

"I didn't really want to sit—especially with you."

I winced. Ouch. That's got to hurt.

"Suppose you'd want to sit with Vic, would you?" I asked him distastefully.

James must've realized his slipup and grinned.

"Oh, I don't mean that. You are my third favorite cousin, y'know that? I just don't want to hang out with—well, girls."

"Oh. Then, I under—wait. Third favorite?" I crossed my arms.

"George is my first, Rose is my second, and you're my third. Vic is my fifth. She's too googly-eyes for Teddy."

"Teddy?" I said, tilting my head. She likes Teddy? How peculiar!

"Well, go on, you little rascal. Don't want to miss the trolley?"

"No!" He said. He glanced around, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and dragged his stuff away to find a compartment.

I shook my head, cracked open the Third-Year Charms book, and shrunk back in the velvety seat, when I saw a silhouette out the corner of my eye.

My heart thumped as I whipped around. I, however, saw Mary's face pressed against the glass.

I dog-eared my book and set it down, sliding it open.

"Mary!" I gasped. She looked—well, absolutely wonderful.

Her cinnamon-colored hair wasn't in braids; it was in intricate waves, falling down to her chest. Her large light brown eyes looked nearly hazel in the large sunlight, and I could see few glimpses of freckles. She looked taller and slimmer and her button nose was absolutely gorgeous.

"Mary, you changed!"

For some odd reason, she looked stiff and glared at me.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Didn't answer my owls, did you? Thought you were too good for a Muggleborn, huh?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"You never answered one of my owls! You—you're such a… a—bitch."

I froze. I felt humiliated. She called me a bitch. Despite being only thirteen, I knew what it was. Muggle girls said it many times. Mother said it to a Muggle banker. And it was very offensive.

I wanted to say something worse, something bitchier to her. But I couldn't bring myself to. The words were dangling in my throat, my brain screaming to say it—'say it, you stupid idiot! If she wants to fight with fire, she'll get the flame! Don't let her win!'

But I couldn't.

I quietly backed into my compartment, slid the door closed, and buried my nose in my book. A teardrop stained one paragraph. I saw Mary walk away, not looking back once, not even caring if I was crying.

We were friends when I wasn't friends with Alex. She was there when he wasn't. How dare she back out! When I'm older, she'll regret it. I'll probably be rich.

I loved to think like that. But I know it won't happen.

I sat there, just staring at one paragraph, trying to curse her in my head.

Due to this altercation—I started a food fight.