Chapter Three: Sanctuary Found
It is the second week of October. I have officially made it six weeks without going full-on Silvia plath. For some reason, Kinkajou continues to sit with me. She tries to get me to talk some. I ignore her as I eat my eggs and sausage. Most of the time, I watch the scary movies replay on the back of my eyelids. Makes me look even weirder. So, she keeps up a running commentary about the latest from "The Quibbler". Turns out, her father's the editor. Huh. Go figure.
With the owl post, I get a note from my father. He wants to know if I need anything. Other than the threats of going to his office for academic reasons, this is how we usually communicate. I write asking for some money or permission to go to the Restricted Section of the library (they have some really cool books there. I've checked.) He writes to tell me of upcoming due dates that I may have forgotten or of tests that he may give, so I may study. Really, what else needs to be said? I write and tell him no, that this close to the beginning of the school year has not allowed me to waste my ink or parchment on the trivial pursuits of the teachers. I'll pay for my smart mouth later, but I don't really care.
Transfigurations is boring, as usual. McGonagall is still stressing the importance of the O.W.L.s we take at the end of this year. Yawn. I think whoever thought of those stupid tests should be hung by their ankles using the shackles Filch keeps in his office. The ones he threatens us with every time we try to catch Mrs. Norris. Some wise guy asks what would happen if we failed the test. You can tell this question upsets McGonagall. Her nostrils flare out like tiny umbrellas and her mouth sinks into nonexistence. When she speaks, it's in a forced calm. She says that we'd have to discuss that with our head of house. I tune her out after that and look out the window.
My HOH is Flitwick. I think if I failed my O.W.L.s, Flitwick would blow a gasket. Nobody has failed the O.W.L.s since, like, when dinosaurs walked the earth. I'd receive the whole "youcandomuchbetterthanthisiknowyoucanandwhyareyounotlivinguptoyourpotential" speech. How does he even know what my potential is? Maybe I'm destined to be a reject. I long to tell him this, but he's already ticked off after I didn't turn my homework in for the billionth time (He made threats of talking to Snape. Not good.)
Dad must have felt sorry for me after the fainting incident, because I now sit next to Benjamin Mellincamp, the other Ravenclaw prefect. Everybody loves Ben. Even Filch. He shows Potential. Future Minister of Magic. Best to be nice to him now, rather than declared a suck up later. Now that I think about it, he could be cute, if he stopped gelling his hair and took off the glasses. I saw a fourth year doodling little hearts around her Mrs. Benjamin Mellincamp's she had scrawled all over a piece of parchment. Ack.
We've been getting along great so far. On the first day as partners, he yelled at me for a full ten minutes because I got my blood over the potion ingredients I was supposed to be cutting up. Jerk. It wasn't my fault though. The knife just slipped. Right into my finger.
-----
Professor Mad-Eye Moody remembers me quite well. At the beginning of our first DADA lesson, he stops me as I walk in.
"Don't think I've forgot you, Snape. Front and center. Right in front of my desk."
Oh joy. I think he's had one to many jinxes to the head, if you know what I mean.
For the past four years that I've been here, there has not been one teacher that took the Defense Against the Dark Arts position and stayed for more than one year. They always that somebody will stay longer, but they never do. Some think the job is curse. It's a shame really. I liked the last one.
Right after DADA is Muggle Studies, which is a complete joke. I only took the class because Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy didn't sound appealing and Cho thought it would be fun. She avoids my gaze as I walk in. Now I just want to disappear. Sink right into the floor. I take a seat on the back row with the rest of the waste cases. Ten minutes after the bell rings, a man hurries into the room. He looks more like a stilt walker than a professor. He sets down a cup of what smells like coffee and smiles at the class.
"Hello everybody! David Donovan's the name and I'm your new Muggle Studies professor."
What happened to Professor McAmis?
He continues to beam at the class before realizing that we aren't looking as thrilled as he is. " Aw, come one! Don't give me that look! Professor McAmis had something come up and she couldn't continue teaching. But don't worry, I'm more than capable of teaching you! You're in safe hands"
I could argue to that point.
Professor Donovan waved his wand at the board and words appear. FINDING YOURSELF IN LITERATURE. I'm pretty sure he didn't misspell it. A cartoon bubble appears over the heads of the entire class: "Is he serious?"
"This term we will be studying about the various forms of muggle literature," he tells us. "You will study it, breathe it, drink it, and live it. Besides studying the works of true literary geniuses, you will write a story. Poetry or prose, your choice. I'll give you the subject out of this." He holds up a top hat. I wonder if he ever pulled a rabbit out of it. " An object. By the end of the year, I want you to be able to have what you have written speak to everybody who reads it."
Some students groan. That's all? It sounds too good to be true to me. He starts at my desk. I reach in the hat, feeling the lining of silk. There appears to be little figurines in the hat. I pull out mine. A tree. A tree? I try to grab something else, but Professor Donovan waggles a finger at me. "You've just chosen your destiny."
"I already know a poem about a tree."
Professor Donovan goes, "Oh really? Um. Well, do you mind telling it me? Just stand up and recite it. Don't worry. I'm not going to grade you or anything."
I stand to my feet. I hear somebody making noises like a pig. "No commentary in my class please," Professor Donovan says. I start.
"I am a tree
See my branches oh so wide
Come and take a seat under the evergreen
Under my shade you can hide."
The class laughs as I sit down. Professor Donovan is looking at me. It makes me nervous. "That's a good start," he tells me. "Now let's see how that turns out at the end of the year."
-----
Giordano, my Ancient Runes teacher, is demanding my assignments that I haven't been turning in. I pretend that I can't see her as I weave in between a large group of people reading something on the message board. (Wonder what that's about. Must remember to check that out later.)
I take off up the marble staircase, trying to put as much distance between me Giordano. I can hear the click-clack of her heels on the stone floor. I run to the seventh floor. I don't care if I have to hide in a broom closet. I just want to hide. On my fifth trip around, I notice a door that wasn't there before. I hear her footsteps coming up the stairs. I fling open the door and run inside. I hold the knob, but she doesn't open it. I breathe a sigh of relief and turn around.
The room had obviously not been used in a long time. Cobwebs hang from the ceiling and dust scattered whenever I move. But it is the best room I have ever seen. An old teacher's desk is holding up a bunch of old books that look like they were made in prehistoric times. The chair doesn't look like it would poke me to much. A sink is in the corner. I can't turn the handles. Probably rusted over.
It's perfect.
-----
TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
THE DELAGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND
DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK
ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL
END HALF AN HOUR EARLY.
STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS
TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT
OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE
THE WELCOMING FEAST.
Great. Just what this school needs. More people to gossip about. I can practically hear the fantasies in the minds of the students. They're like little kids in a candy shop. Maybe a girl from Beauxbatons will want to date Terri. Or... maybe the boys from Durmstrang will be cute.
The only other person that doesn't seem to think that people coming from across the continent to Hogwarts is the greatest thing since sliced bread, besides me, is Kinkajou. Whenever she hears people talking about the Tournament, she rolls her eyes. I wonder why.
The only good thing about the tournament that I can see is that it will allow me time to finish cleaning out my secret room in peace. It's been coming along great. I've managed to sweep out most of the dust and cobwebs. I found a couple of scented candles stuck in the bottom of my trunk and decided that they would get out the smell of dead rodent. It doesn't seem to be working though.
The corridors are empty. My boots against the floor echo throughout the corridor on every alternative step. I look at my watch. Transfigurations has already started. McGonagall will kill me for being late. Yippee. I consider go and see if Flitwick would give me a late pass, but I forgot to go to his class this morning. I continue past the first floor and go into the Entrance Hall.
Outside, the weather is simply beautiful. Great. A soft breeze knocks a couple of leaves off a nearby tree. I pull my cloak around me and take off across the lawn. Maybe I can get the giant squid to swallow me whole. Nah. I'd be too bitter. On the edge of the Forbidden Forest I can blend in and not be seen by the Care of Magical Creatures class. I crush a pansy under my foot.
The fourth years appear to be having fun. They're sticking stuff in these huge crates and jump back when something POPS! It's very entertaining. I watch them until the bell rings and try to blend in with them as we march up the lawn and into the Entrance Hall. I can smell the food in the Great Hall. Lunch has started. I inhale the scent slowly,
"Hello," a voice whispers in my ear.
I suddenly feel as if somebody has put a pillow over my face. I gasp for breath. I'm frozen to the spot as if somebody just put the full-body bind on me. People are chatting away, not noticing that I'm starting to hyperventilate. They walk towards the doors of the Great Hall. Don't go, please don't go.
IT is in the Entrance Hall. IT is with its latest girlfriend. IT smiles like the cat that swallowed the canary and waves. IT makes me want to throw up.
I take off up the marble staircase, trying to put as much distance between me and IT. All the way to my secret hiding place. I slam the door shut and collapse onto the floor, hugging my sides. It's only after I wake up that I realize that I passed out. And what's worse, I missed Potions.
My father's going to kill me.