The ideological principles which govern the affairs of my existence can best be portrayed as a gathering of rather contradictory beliefs set to application and misapplication however the current consequential situation may plead. There's no rhythm to my debates, working more from passionate self-righteousness then infallible logic. More willing to argue semantics, I auspiciously reign transcendent by manipulating words and tempers. I'm a paradox; not a hypocrite, but a hypocrisy. Although I'm relatively overt from my podium, shadows of suspicion and angst seize upon the naïve and tenderhearted, shattering their paradise of womb-like certainty. Reality is fact assimilated with perception, twisted and reshaped for each individual to scrutinize cultivation of events extrovertly related to any existence. Call me reality if you will, though ironically the phenomenon of realism is available and proliferated by intransigent radicals such as my self. You believe I'm what's to be habitual and ordinary because I've forced the perception against your better judgment. I'm not sorry, just lonely…
The parchment was suddenly ripped from my hand. I snapped back to whatever reality was… and stemming from that parchment, I suddenly was plagued with doubts about what the definition of reality could be defined as. I was the type of person that was affected by everything. Issues and points were always relevant to me, no matter the subject matter or intent. I looked up, very bewildered.
"I suppose it's not a habit of yours to rifle through others belongings. Maybe there's a reason I choose to keep that private." His tone was not condescending but he was clearly flustered. In fact, he wasn't even snappish, just slightly consternated.
For my part, it irked me, being judged so. I hardly rifled and he clearly had done a poor job of keeping things private. My actions were inappropriate but innocent, and I didn't need to be treated as a child, taken to task for such a minor slight. Surely it was my fault that as I was walking down the hallway, clumsy boy's papers fluttered through the air. I didn't really see the correlation and I'm not sure how I can be blamed for grabbing two out of the air. I presume I would have been callus had I simply walked by. A small crowd of students had stopped. It wasn't as if I had snatched something out of his bag. The clearest answer was that he was maladroit and had tripped, but I suppose most anyone would blame others for their own infirmities. I didn't much fancy being called nosy. My eyebrows knitted, my lips tightened, and I took a deep breath, rather annoyed. "ahh, forgive me, that was rather rude. You meant no ill, no ill taken. Please, just keep what you read private and overlook my hasty words." He interrupted me, shaking his head, even before I could begin. I could only raise an eyebrow. Very nice self-control. I didn't much like being talked down to though, dismissed, or for that matter, intermitted in any form. I guess I could accept his words, but I wasn't one to let slights go by. Consider it a strong aversion to having rain on my parade.
"Oh very well, trouble yourself naught with my holding a grudge. Do try to keep from stumbling on the tiles, they can be awfully tricky sometimes… reach right out and grab ya they will." I said as sweetly as possible and with an adorable innocent smile. . The crowd snickered, but then started to disperse. I shoved the second parchment I had snatched out of the air into my bag. Next time he'd learn to be civil and he wouldn't have to worry about tracking down papers. This one was neatly rolled up with a black ribbon tied around it. I didn't much feel like proving his words by reading it so I was content to hope that it was an important missive to a girl or a late homework assignment. The boy and a few others were left to pick up his remaining scattered belongings. I thought about quoting some of the lines from his apparent letter of explanation most likely from a girlfriend, but determined that it would have been rather mean spirited. I preferred to be labeled lively, daring, or bold. But mean? No, the real trick was to get away with pushing the line; a feisty attitude not a caviling image. Easily intrigued, yet quicker to boredom, making most quest for interest invested extrovertly. It made it tough to balance the portrait of myself that I let everyone see. But teens are very easy fiddle with, it's just a shame that more people aren't receptive of my attempts.
I laughed a bit to myself as I sauntered off. I looked over my shoulder to watch the boy. Three other boys stooped to help, with one younger girl still there, the last of his supporters. They all seemed to be laughing at something good naturedly. Apparently I hadn't been as witty as I thought I had, for there seemed to be no effect at all on the boy. A black haired, rough looking fellow with intense looking eyes was making an impression as if the floor had suddenly gripped his leg like a vice. He was screeching and pulling on his robes. Ah yes, of course, Sirius Black, notoriously ridiculous. I held back a smile; he was comical, but I never endured criticism well. One of the other boys quickly tackled him, wiping his hand across his brow in mock worry. They finished picking up the papers and the lumbering one bent down to speak to the girl. She smiled and ran off.
I realized that I was standing still watching the spectacle like a few others. I didn't want to stand there gawking when the four boys approached, me having the last word and all. I worked towards the first class of the day. The first class of the first day of my 6th year at Hogwarts. I think I had grown a bit since my 5th year, both in maturity and in physical form. I wasn't dazzling, but it was hard to be anything but ordinary in the drab black robes. I strived always to find a way to be different, yet not odd. Some girls resorted to undoing there robes a bit in the front to flash a bit of their "charms". I was much more intelligent then that. Besides, I had a natural way to gain attention. Red hair and green eyes; it wasn't always easy to deal with. When I was younger and gangly in the ways of make up and grace, I was a frizzled hair girl with big glasses. I wasn't much of a tongue lasher either, so I lived most on sweetness and intelligence. I cared more to be a shadow on the wall then a smiling waving picture. Slowly, it all changed. I learned to standout and be witty, to charm and laugh. I wasn't a prankster, as seemed to be the new rage, and I definitely didn't have a throng of friends. A drifter they called me; one group to the next, familiar with all, truly friends with none. Some people thought me shallow, while I attributed it to selectivity. Why cast your pearls to the swine?
I walked into class and sat down, drawing upon a notebook that was a release for my boredom. I was quite adept at this point. Usually I was an avid note taker, being a gifted learner, but not unnaturally so. But Charms, with adorable little Flitwick, was second nature. Might as well take notes on breathing. I glanced up from my drawings to people watch. I wondered if there were any new students in my Gryffindor year or in the Ravenclaws joining us. I was delighted to see that not only had we a few new students, but people had really changed. It was very interesting for me to notice these things, making mental notes… some good, some not so flattering. Two of the girls who shared a dorm with me had put some weight on, which fit their cow like personalities, always mooing about some problem or wrong done to them. Natalia Babac had obviously been sipping a little to much at the dainty parties she attended, for it clearly showed in her now forming gut. Tragic really. Her friend Jessica Seymour faired only slightly better. Maybe she had been the designated Flew Caller, the last girl sober enough to say the name of home through the fireplace. Uck, her weight had mostly settled in her breast, making her look as if she had matured into her body. I do suppose the boys would have a grand ole time with those. She disregarded the two as soon as she noticed their summer weight gain. Plainly put, they were dense bimbos.
I started to examine the new boy in our year when my head jerked back forward. Walking straight towards me was Sirius and his three friends. I tripped Sirius for good measure and he stumbled, righting himself as if he had done so on purpose, like a circus stuntman would do. He spared me a glare though. I turned back forward in satisfaction; that should teach him. I wasn't quite familiar with the other three, especially the messy haired oaf… Merlin! That was James! Now I felt rather foolish. I don't know how I hadn't recognized him, but I guess it could be slightly excused. I was rather caught in the moment and he had sure morphed into something else. Loud was the only way to describe James as of last year. I mean, he had his occasional moments of brilliance, and he was intelligent, but he much preferred to feign ignorance and then wow the world with his offhand perceptive comments. Then he'd give the "where'd that come from look" like he was surprised by the words that had spurted so articulately designed from his lips. He was creative though, a new angle or a new trend… always, it came from James. Wow, how he had bulked up. He apparently had not spent his summer drinking, but rather training. His hair was still messy, but almost in a new trendy sort of way. His robes sure fit him differently and his glasses had loss the "I'm smart and tragically unsocial" look to them. The most stunning thing was his new sway of confidence. It was measured now, not so much forced and obnoxious. Or at least from their earlier encounter, I was surprised he hadn't flipped his lid and hexed me… or asked me out. He used to have a sneering sort of temper. Ha, this little boy turned man had totally fawned over me. He, for years, had gone from swagger to pleading with his attempts to win me. I had politely declined, or, when he became particularly persistent, a good shove in the mud did his ego much balancing.
As he walked by, he seemed to whisper conspicuously loud. "I surprised we made it at all, I thought for sure the tiles would never let you go. How's your leg by the way Padfoot? It didn't squeeze to hard did it?" His eyes were open wide, as if he feared Sirius would fall over. All three boys made a big show of helping Sirius into his chair and then laughed quite openly to each other. I graced them with a half smile, letting them know I was hardly impressed. Truth was, it was quite funny, and they just might have bested me this time. Before I could think of a witty remark back, Flitwick hurried into the room. The Marauders, as they had come to be known as, settled themselves in the back, discussing in low whispers. A few words drifted here and there, but the just of the conversation was entirely lost on me.
"No… I refuse to believe… fine fine, I will." Remus Lupin replied adamantly to an unheard comment. Remus was a very sweet boy, but sort of a late bloomer. The summer had improved his physique but the shadow around and deep within his eyes were still omnipresent. There was such a torrent of sorrow and disturbance, it was consuming in a morbid sort of way. I was fearful of him, yet deeply captivated by him. "Professor, my mates and I were discussing a very perplexing question." Remus's voice rang out as Professor Flitwick was getting ready to set class to begin. Flitwick looked up in acknowledgement. "We, meaning no disrespect of course, were debating… have you grown over the summer? James and Sirius seem to believe so, but Peter and myself are of the opinion that it's just not in the cards ya know?" Remus finished in a flurry, as if he were speaking more to himself then the professor. The class, of course, roared in delight. Flitwick visibly straightened and gave the matter serious consideration, much to the chagrin of the class.
"Well, while I am very flattered, I do believe my short stature is a permanent quality of mine" Professor Flitwick squeaked with grin. I was simply dumbfounded. What prats! One simply scheme, one diabolic scheme devised in such a clever manner. That was all it took! In the matter of 30 words they had won the professor and established themselves as marksmen of laughter. And, at the blatant expense of a professor who was entirely oblivious to it! Couldn't call them suck ups.
Class began, myself effectively tuning out as much of the lecture as I could. James parchment kept fluttering into my head though. The words by now were a bit fuzzy, but the overall meaning was still there. And whoever had wrote it to him was awfully disgraced and self deprecating. But well spoken. The word choice woven together was quite captivating. I'm sure he didn't deserve the apology, for that is what it seemed to be. A slight noise, growing a bit louder and more complex, was beginning to form, breaking my concentration. I looked around until I noticed (not surprisingly) that the Marauders seemed to be tapping out a tune, whether it be with a quill, foot, or a finger, just tapping away. They also seemed quite unaware of it, well until Sirius started to air guitar and get a little out of control. It was almost cute in a way, yet highly annoying. People who couldn't hold the internal fortitude to manage their own confidence without the need of outside support were quite pathetic to me. Attention hungry was all they were. Would I never find a soul who was worth a moment of time for? The four best candidates were in the back of the classroom making fools of themselves. I decided then and there to die alone.
I couldn't believe how long the rest of the classes were that day. First days were really wastes, the teachers could never really teach yet, instead they just kind of rattled on about the importance of the year and what stimulating topics we would be covering. Professor McGongall dropped a bomb on us though during Transfiguration. I was so close to getting through the day, so close to being done and away from this life I had started again. I had just finished packing my bag full of supplies, ready to be the first one out. She cleared her throat. I groaned inwardly.
"Class, our Head Boy, Jonathon Ritchie, has decided on a course of action related just to the Gryffindor 6th and 7th years. Each of you will be given a specific requirement for the year, handed out most especially to each person, to be tried and completed for the whole year. In fact, the assignment duration last for the whole year. While some of you cannot be working on your own project at all times, I know that there will be a helping hand for any who should need it. Any questions?" McGonagall asked primly. I had to assume that everyone kept their mouth shut in fear of an explosion of words. I gathered also that our Head Boy was about to have an accident of some sort. McGongall gave a nod of her head and walked out the door. The class immediately exploded.
"That little bugger, I'll squash him this time. He's still angry at us I know it. Change his dress robes into rather pretty skirts one time during a Ball and he holds a grudge forever!" Sirius exclaimed, pounding his fist on the table. I remembered the incident, extremely humorous, yet entirely mortifying for the prideful Head Boy Jonathon. I had my misgivings about the deed, but now I was entirely in favor of squashing the bug. Vendettas were best left between the original parties, for sometimes you made more enemies then you could account for. I certainly would hesitate to tread on his robes give the chance.
I wasn't quite sure how to feel about this new variable added to my life. I made sure that all my business was in order, always knowing my schedule. I was not the type who could just let things go by, who could disregard information. It always came back to haunt me, to muck things up right when I was sure I had it all in order. That's why I make it a habit of remembering seemingly useless bits of information or applying unrelated information to myself. Everything was paralleled somehow. I felt it was my job to find that common ground and see if my path crossed through it. I could discover no possible explanation for how someone would be familiar enough with me to know what would best exploit my weaknesses and turn them to strengths. Who would know me well enough to judge my inner passions? I had to assume that this project was meant for each students eventual well being, kind of like going through the fire to refine ones self. I mean, I could easily pick out the most prudent tests for some of the other students. Put Sirius in a corner, cover his eyes, and tell him not to talk. Have James keep asking me out over and over, receiving the same answer of nay. Make Peter do something for himself. Put Remus into situations where there is no compromise, for he is surely the peacemaker, the King of finding common ground. Natalia's bane would be a shirt that fit correctly and simply ask Jessica to think. I may sound critical, but if you knew the people I knew, you'd understand.
Well, I suppose the most prudent course of action would be simply to wait for more information. Gathering a list of weaknesses that were most susceptible to notice would be in order. I know myself well, and I cope fine with those things I cannot change nor have the willpower to change. However, I cannot pretend that I admit my weaknesses to myself in its entirety. For example, some people believe that I am crazed with the notion of being constantly and irrevocable correct, often changing my opinion to defeat solid arguments. I believe that I wish to be understood and appreciated. I don't need anyone to accept my opinion as truth, just see the vision I see. Yet again, if anyone did understand me, they would see that I speak the truth... which ironically would make me correct. One of the only reasons I suffered from having no close companions is because it's hard to improve on your own with no feedback. I am very worried that I won't be expecting whatever the project may make me face. Some things are better left untended.
After my hesitation and deliberation, I left the classroom. A group of girls was giggling behind me, talking about their summer escapades. I couldn't relate, so I sped up a bit to get away from the nagging urge to sneer. Sneering was not very endearing, nor did I like the feelings that accompanied it. The Marauders were a bit in front of me, once again talking overly loud.
"I bet Lily would go out with you this time Prongs, I mean, honestly, for sanities sake, she'll have to give in eventually." Sirius threw his hands into the air and shook his head. James chuckled a bit.
"Well, I checked the forecast and hell hasn't frozen over. Oh which reminds me, the lake is hasn't even frozen yet, so I have quite the wait. My life doesn't really proceed until then" James said this succinctly, as if it really perturbed him. I was sure that last part he had intoned a bit louder, probably for my benefit. A puzzled expression crossed my face. Interesting way he had chosen to come at it this year. Well, I had compassion, but I would never sacrifice myself to it for him. I was baffled though. What did the lake have to do with anything? Peter shared my bemusement.
"And...not quite picking up the relevance of the Lake. I suppose the Lake and hell are pretty similar." Peter shook his head, scrunching his face up, jeering at James with his sarcasm. James displayed a baby of a frown.
"Oh, I'm honestly just waiting for Lily to ask the Giant Squid out so she's finally run out of excuses and she can't do that very well until our underwater friend breaks the surface after his hibernation. I just don't get it, what does the Giant Squid have that I don't? I mean, is it the many appendages that she so admires?" James answered in mock confusion. The other boys laughed and threw a bunch of comments about looks and charm. I added my own two bits.
"A brain actually is what I'm looking for. Ya know, you use it to think and it obstructs puerile or thickheaded actions. Some people even contribute to society with them. Surprising I know, thinking." I remarked with a casual lift of an eyebrow. Sirius and Remus's mouths formed silent O's as they turned to stare at me. James seemed to ponder something for a minute. I was ready for a retort, for I was sure he was about to lash out at me or go the opposite direction and profess his love.
"Hmm, foreign concept, this thinking. I'll have to ponder it a while." He smiled broadly at his limp calembour. I hated puns, and stupid people. Two strikes right in a row for Potter. He continued undaunted of the shaking of my head. "Stifling really. Where's the life in that? Anyways, I have nothing against the Squid my dear Lily, so as long as you are happy, I'm obliged to feel the same." James ended with a small bow while still walking backwards. I could think of a number of things to say to that, but again he cut me off. "Well, I think I understand your thinking, just remember... there's always other fish in the Lake, if the Squid doesn't treat you right." His tone was serious, belying his words. He was hard pressed to keep the smile from his lips. His mates had far less control, bursting into laughter. The prat mocked me. I admit, my comment last year after O.W.L.S. was rash and not very creative, but at the time, it had extremely embarrassed him so I made the sacrifice. Besides, the Giant Squid had its ups were James was definitely down.
"Tired of embarrassing yourself, putting your pride into my hands? I suppose enough refusals can grate at anyone's self-confidence. I mean, 700 no's, or whatever number we are at, is enough to even sink your titanic ego Potter." I snapped out, giving a bit of a glare.
"My, my, aren't we the little vixen. Don't be so contrite Lily, one day I may just stop asking, and you might find yourself wondering why. Maybe I ask not because I have some overwhelmingly passionate urge but because I feel sorry for you. Maybe I'm not the pathetic one. I'm sure you've realized how much time you spend a lone. Since you won't let anyone break through your self-righteous wall to be your friend, I figured, maybe she's the type that can't feel. But I can't not try, let you waste away, becoming a husk of nothing. I supposed that it was possible you wanted all the physicality's of teen associations without any of the obligation required. Philosophize with me for a moment, Lily darling, ever envision that you're the problem and not everyone else?" James tone remained relatively even throughout his speech, yet his words stung. I was sure, had I not prepared as he spoke, that tears would have welled in my eyes. His comments weren't that innovative or even cutting, but on this day, I wanted to shrink into myself. I was horrified at how close to home he hit, so unwittingly, so casually, and so correctly that even I was forced to recognize facts I had ignored. It was my fault. But no, I would not, could not lose myself down that path right now.
He hadn't changed as much as I thought he had; he was still the same insensitive pig. Sometimes you believe pieces of you die or stop working, no longer functioning at least. In that moment, I found that I could feel in this form still, this form of guilt or self-pitying. I wasn't dead to the world. It's not that I didn't care or have compassion, for I had much more then most teens my age. Sometimes you just lose hope in the world, you stop caring because you know they don't. You can't cope with the unbearable everyday. It's like having your mother have cancer and everyday you know she could die. Every time you see her, so weak and frail, you are reminded and that prompt pushes you further back. You never get past it, never truly cope, until she is long gone, your mother, long gone. I cannot survive and begin to rebuild until my path has been set and I have the opportunity to recognize the cost. Then can I face the fear. I'm not talking about hope in the world or goodness in my kind, for that is a subplot to the theme of my existence. This plight I face, this burden I carry is strenuous enough, but James never would back down, could never let go. Most people feared me, James did not. And for that, I was terrified.
I did the quickest thinking I possibly had ever done. What could I say? Deny it with all vehemence? I had to make an impact without sacrificing dignity. Crying would have been the hottest strike but it was too much of a price for me to pay. No one saw me cry, I couldn't afford it. The silence that echoed after his words was growing long and awkward. The other boys had the decency to look away. I did the only thing I could think of, the only true thing that would have an affect on Potter. I hated to utilize and manipulate peoples feelings, but James left me no choice. I'd play the part.
I peered intently at him, making sure that he kept eye contact with me. I swallowed long and hard. I let the smallest of a frown show on my lips. Then I slowly nodded a few times, as if to myself in agreement. I took a deep breath and looked down, taking small yet heavy movements, each measured. I wanted it to last, for him to really notice. Finally, I brushed past him, muttering a slight excuse me. Oh, I could feel his eyes bore deep into my back, and for a moment, I felt black satisfaction. I didn't need to see his face turn in dismay. It worked beautifully. Yet as I moved off, still listening to the silence behind me, the frown on my face seemed to be fastened in place. He had hit me harder then I thought and I couldn't rebound properly. Sometimes I don't have the ability or wherewithal to act through all situations. Even though I hadn't eaten lunch, I thought it wise to skip dinner this night and be alone. I needed to straighten up, get my bearings right, just regroup. I reviled being unsettled.
For the next few hours, I was forced to endure my thoughts. They were a prison, with all it entails. I just felt so trapped and lone, like nothing in the world could relate to what I constantly must face in my own head. And in a way, that was correct. I was cursed to be unique in a way that would never pacify my desires. I was special, that I was sure. But mostly, I felt especially alone. Years back, I had found that surprisingly, a silly little girl like myself, couldn't handle the pressure all the time. So I took to stealing away, breaths of life untainted with concerns. I found a few at Hogwarts.
I strode briskly out the door and searched the grounds to make sure I was alone. The air smelt nice and breeze had yet to gain a chill. From a high vantage point the lake was clearly visible, but still, there were many outlets that remained undetected. That's where I would head for solitude, there was nothing else like it. The Lake was overpowering towards sunset. The light reflected in brilliant hues, flashing within each other as if dancing to the wind. There were fingers of rocks that extended into the midst of water. For those I headed towards, home of one of my escapes.
I had to stop for a moment and breathe very slowly. A first day could not start and end like this, not if I wanted to make it through the year still whole. But the gloriousness of this place, made me wish I had someone to share it with. It was a disparaging thought to have, never to share with anyone my darkest despairs or the passions that beat within my heart. Ha, I assume most people don't even really believe I have either. There were few wonders in my life that could be my shield and carry me away. I seized them with all my heart, those beautiful all-encompassing moments where I have control back, and if I'm lucky, I can slam my walls into place. I can't smother myself from the inside and no one can hold a wall up permanently. Something has always been dreadfully wrong inside of me, a terrible burden to bear. I've always been so ashamed, so alarmed about the way I've dealt with it. I push, and when that doesn't work, I wound. I use whatever comes my way. I was simply glad that, for now, no one was around.
I stared at the forest as I walked towards my place, watching the life on the skirts that were too afraid to venture deep into the malign forest. I smiled despite my current mood as I watched two fuzzy wolves playfully lounge at one another. There was beauty in everything, I knew there was, yet I just couldn't hope for it anymore. It was nice when I did nothing and saw a bit of that wonder.
I reached the jagged rock outcropping that would lead me out towards the middle of the lake. It was a tricky maneuver, with wet rocks and tight fits. I started to tread lightly over the moss covered rocks, hardly daring to breathe. It was this sort of experience that kept many students from exploring further, and unless you knew, the path way was quite invisible. After a few yards, it looked as if the stepping stones ran straight into a wall of rock, sheer in it's height. This was the tough part. The water was murky, so the steps were tough to find, hidden right below the surface as they were. I had never slipped save once, soaking half of my body, and I was quite determined never to repeat the experience. The hidden steps went around the face of the large wall of rock. There were no hand holds, I could only lean into the wall. Barely avoiding mishap, I stepped onto a small landing and ducked over an over hanging ledge. Here the rock had been cut through by wind and rain, leaving a sort of small tunnel. I crawled through and climbed a rock to sit in my place. It was virtually hidden from view, the only spot someone could spy me from would be straight across on the mountains or flying above on the broom.
The place I sat was sort of throne-like, high backed with oversized armrests. It had taken a while, even with magic, to carve a spot out, but now it fit my needs. The effort and struggle being done, I was left to ponder. The lake always did well for my spirits and gave me a bit of time to think as a normal teen would. I scanned the horizon, watching the various wildlife drink and forage. I hadn't seen many magical creatures, staying close to the deeper parts of the forest like they do. But occasionally I had seen wolves with their cubs, deer with their stags, and once even a great brown bear. Though I knew that bears and wolves didn't really inhabit Scotland, I figured Hogwarts could probably do about anything it pleased. I hope one day to watch a unicorn drink from the depths and simply observe. That would be blessing enough for me. But, until then, I watch the otters, the playful creatures they are. In fact, they had befriended me in a sort of way, probably because I fed them on occasion.
I stroked one of the creatures I had named him Grin. When he opened his mouth, his cheeks moved up as if a smile was forming on his little face. He rolled around a few times at my feet and then dove back into the water. The sun was still quite warm despite the late hour and the coming over Autumn. I supposed their would be few days like this left. I sat unthinking for a minute, basking in the light and twirling my hair around my finger. Ignorant from thought was a state of bliss I assumed as often as my lifestyle would allow. Celeste would be upset with me and probably quite worried. I hated when I started thinking about not thinking, invariably something else always intruded.
I was a "click-hopper" as I said before, acquaintances with everyone, friends with no one. But that wasn't entirely honest; I had one friend would had earned the right a million times over to be my friend. Frankly, she was the only one besides the animals who had ever lasted as my companion. Celeste Warwick was a sweet thing, unassuming and quiet. People tended to take advantage of her sweet spirit and weak will. She hated confrontation and worried like a mother who was a missing a child. I could never give her the type of love and care she gave me though, I just couldn't open my heart like a friend should. But she was content, not getting much attention from the boys and being too level-headed to mix up with Natalia's group. They disdained her anyhow. I guess that made it all the worse, that she gave so willingly and asked so little, while I took so greedily and carped at what she asked. It made it easier her being a year younger and me not having to see her all the classes of the day. But then sometimes, I felt like she hero-worshiped me and that it was her fault not mine.
Oh, what was I going to do? I had to find a balance and soon, or else the sun would go down and I would face the school unprepared. I hated to turn to Celeste yet, it was hard for her to only hear me vent yet not hear the reasons for it. Maybe I could salvage myself and keep going, maybe I wasn't as broken as I thought I was. James… the unwitting conduit of sorrow… I would just have to be more vigilant and guarded around him. He was too perceptive. My studies and Prefect duties might cause some trouble, but I think I could cope. The only other thing I worried for was my family. Everything else was inconsequential suffocation in my life; just needed to make sure I breathe every once in a while and everything would work itself out.
My family gave me another pause. I bit my lip. Had I been honest with myself from the beginning, I wouldn't be moping by the lake. I knew the situation bothered me, I knew I would hide from it. Petunia had always had been a prude, self-righteous to the core and a hypocrite on her best day. I usually don't seek for other's approval, but my sister had the ability to make me feel inadequate. It shouldn't surprise me that she hated me, nor should it really sting. Yet it did, and it was festering. But it was my parents staunch disapproval and open disregard for me that now gave me the incapacitated feeling that I was struggling so hard with. Like I said, when I can't handle my emotions, I wound, and James gave me reason to notice him. I now felt a bit guilty about it.
I couldn't comprehend why my parents had so fully abandoned me. For years, they had supported and loved me, nourished and strengthened. Suddenly it was gone. I could only think that they had found out about my circumstance and were ashamed, that they felt betrayed. I guess I wished they would never find out, however I believe a part of me always knew that my family would react this way. I fancy it was a paltry and naïve sentiment dreaming that they would work past it. How could they if I could not?
It was so hard to even bring myself to think about it. I had to stop. I looked around, searching for something specific. A large buck, with a great rack of antlers was looking cautiously around, making sure his safety was still assured. He lay in the grass, as if splayed about, never to move again. It would do. I reached inside my bag, pulling out ink, quill, and my notebook. I started to draw. I scribbled and shaded, focused so intently. Soon my picture transformed from a portrait to a story, the animal representing me. Soon all the parallels were there. His tentative yet calculating look gave way to my closed off and suspicious nature. The threat of predator off the in background served as his constant companion easily depicting my secrets and guilt. I added in a doe and two fawn up above on the rocks, drawing away with another herd. It fit my sad little existence.
I took out my wand and placed the tip to my forehead. I muttered a spell much like the one used for the Pensieve, and a vibrant spark flared to existence has the tip left my head. I lowered the wand to the paper. The spark seeped in to the parchment, flowing over it like liquid. The colors as I had remembered them melded with my ink, creating a picture as if it had been snapped from a camera. It didn't move, for I chose that it would not. It represented my memory and that was all I needed. I poured my heart and emotions deep within the paper and all too suddenly I felt so drained. The burden felt lighter, like I was slightly detached from it.
The painting of my picture was not really a spell, it was kind of a mix I had gathered and made, which made me feel immensely proud of myself. I hadn't told anyone about it though, it seemed to personal and special to me to have it just thrust into the public. Besides, I didn't want to explain it, part of me couldn't. It may not even have been proper, the practice I employed. But it worked so well for me and gave me much needed relief and it created beauty so I wasn't to concerned. I'd think about it another time.
As a final closer of today's chapter I took my wand and sent a gust of air out, pushing my picture fluttering towards the opposite shore. It landed near where the stag still lay, drifting like a lily pad on the water. The stag shifted and rose, first sniffing at the paper, then gently sipping. It was peaceful and fitting to my lightened mood.
It took a great deal of effort, of both will and strength to get up and force myself through the awkward tunnels and over the treacherous stepping-stones. I reached the shore as the last rays of sun were fading away. The moon was like a flashlight in a dark room, it seemed to be the only visible object, solid orb in the black night sky. A howl deep within the forest broke the peace of the evening and I couldn't repress a shiver. I hurried for the great oak doors, for safety. The grounds at night were not to be trifled with nor taken lightly. I heard a rustle of bushes and a few splashes down towards the lake. Immediately my mind started conjuring all sorts of imagines and none that were pleasant. I was sure that nothing positive could come from a leisurely stroll. I picked up the pace and almost stopped dead. I took a few anxious breathes and moments, realizing a possible danger. I couldn't afford loose ends. My worry was for my picture, as it suddenly occurred that some spells could manipulate a person from semi-precious sentimental personal items, an object that has great personal significance so thus an attachment of sorts. While the picture was clearly not something I was emotionally involved with, it still held enough of my essence to cause me worry. But, I rationalized, there were few who were acquainted with that sort of spell and even a lesser number who would employ it. There was no going back; Professor Dumbledore had a curfew on at night. Another howl to the moon gave me my answer and I picked up the speed a bit more. Still I couldn't help shudder, feeling, against my better judgment, completely vulnerable in more then one way.
Night was fully settled by the time I could see the doors, the subtle rustle of the wind the only audible sound left. I stared down at the even paving stones under my feet as I strode briskly forward. I definitely would be capable of salvaging my week. I suppose now though, I would have to make the opportunities for recesses and pauses out of life. I had an inkling that the situation would not improve, so I would have to adapt. I could easily think of a variety of possible, dire variables that could be trust upon me at anytime. I just had to be vigilant and equipped for any situation. And I hoped against hope that I was strong enough to avoid having to repeat tonight; there was something weak and disabilitating about the entire process I had endured.
I was completely drained, emotionally and physically. I wondered if a Pensieve took this toll that my hybrid version had. All I desired at this point tonight was to eat and sleep. No, just sleep; I wouldn't make it through eating. I approached the doors and gave them a good push. They opened on silent hinges. As I entered the great hall, I found my feet carrying away from Gryffindor tower. I sighed, shrugging my bag further onto my back. I knew better then to go against my instincts, so maybe I had more to contemplate. Or maybe I was a coward, scared to face a bunch of children masquerading as adults. Either way, I had a long night ahead of me. As the night grew older, I searched the castle for comfort, sometimes seeking familiarity, other times longing after adventure and discovery. And I unveiled something precious, something that could stave off the loneliness. It almost made me weep, everything piled up like this, it was too much of a rollercoaster ride. Nathan would have adored this. I clenched my teeth, so furious with myself. The tears rolled down my cheeks. I couldn't deny it though, Nathan eyes would have blazed to life with passion. It's just that… I had made such progress and now, at the most inopportune moment, he springs into my head, all smiles.
I missed him.
But he would blame me for what happened.
I slumped to the ground, so uncontrollably defunct. My arms snaked around my legs, drawing them close. I wept like I hadn't wept for a long time. I lay there for a long time that night, pondering, the war of my emotions still fighting. But by the time I finally slipped into unconsciousness, I was at least at ease. But today, and this night, I felt, especially alone.