Chapter 4: Class

Kathryn

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I've barely slept. It may be completely lame, but I cannot wait for classes. Call me a nerd, people have. Ostracize me, people have. But no matter what you or anyone else has to say, I love learning. The first day of a new term is a day of excitement and anticipation. Today is especially exciting because of new classes. I dress and make my way to the common room to find Mark, looking as good as ever, waiting for me.

"Good morning," he says as we walk from the common room and head toward the great hall, "Jones went on without us. How are you?"

"First day of class," I say smiling, "it's like Christmas."

"Oh you're a strange one, Kathryn McNeil." From him the words are pleasant, spoken with kindness. Most of the time, they are filled with spite.

We enter the Great Hall and find a seat next to Jones, who looks like he would have given anything to be back in bed. He's not much of a morning person. He's reading over his copy of Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3 although I suspect he's both read it, and figured out how to perform the spells that interest him.

"Hey," I say sitting across from him.

He looks up at me registering my presence. "Schedules haven't come yet," he says wearily before returning to his book. I sit and begin eating my breakfast.

"Anjali is trying to get the earliest possible slot for tryouts, so that we can train longest with our new teammates," Mark says excited. Quidditch talk again. I put up with it. It makes them happy.

"Good. I hope we can get a good Seeker. All our work is useless without catching the snitch. I wish we played by NQL rules." That summer, the debates over how many points the snitch is worth had finally led to a split and the formation of the New Quidditch League.

"I don't know. Making the snitch worth too little is just as bad as too many, and 50 points…" Mark replies.

"Is too few," Jones interrupts, "I know. We've had this conversation like fifty times this summer. Schedules." Professor Mulligan is coming up the table handing out schedules. The excitement builds within me.

"Wilson," she says reaching him and handing him a piece of parchment. "Lawrence, and McNeil." I unfold the sheet of parchment and look at today's classes.

"We're outside," Jones says, "All morning. With the Gryffindors." He doesn't sound too excited.

"I'm not," I respond, "I have Muggle Studies with Slytherin."

"Ah, the class of uselessness which you're taking why exactly?"

"Jones," Mark says, "be nice."

"Because," I reply, "it's interesting to hear how other people live. Just because you've experienced Muggle life firsthand, doesn't mean the rest of us haven't."

"Well, spoiler alert," Jones says, "it's boring as hell." He's wrong. Any speck of information I can get my hands on is interesting.

"Well, maybe Kathryn will think it's interesting," Mark adds, "you need to realize that not everyone shares your opinion." Some girls would hate it if their boyfriend was always defending them, but not me. I love it that he sticks up for me.

"Whatever. When I'm right, you let me know." Soon, although not soon enough for me, it's time for class. The three of us make our way to the Greenhouses.

"Did you talk to Anjali?" Mark asks.

"No," Jones replies, "she was asleep already. I'll have to ask her today." I am curious what Professor Bane had said to them, but more anxious to see how this Professor Longbottom would do. I really liked Professor Sprout.

"Come on up," Professor Longbottom says as we approach, "I have a great lesson planned for you." After the Gryffindors show up, he leads us into Greenhouse 2. We all take places beside a number of empty pots. At the front, a collection of plants are displayed.

"One of the main benefits of Herbology is learning how plants can be used in potion making." Professor Longbottom seems very pleased with himself after completing that sentence. "So this year, in addition to our other plants, we will be growing common plant potion ingredients that you will be able to use. Now who can tell me what some of these are?"

I don't raise my hand, although I know the answers, neither does Jones. Mark, however, slowly raises his hand.

"Mr. Lawrence, right?"

"Yessir," he says, "The one on my left is a Thorn Shrub."

"Correct. Five points to Ravenclaw. Do you know any of it's uses?"

"Yeah. The shavings of the thorns are used in mental related potions."

"Great! Five more points. Anyone else?"

A Gryffindor raises her hand. "Yes, Ms. Merrywhether?"

"I think the one in the middle is an Autumn Lily, we have them at home."

"Ah yes. Five points for you, too. Many households began growing them when it was discovered that they are very effective in medicinal potions. We, of course, won't get blooms until next year, but…"

"That's not true," I call out of turn, "In the newest edition of Magical Herbs and Fungi, it says that that was a hoax."

"Kathryn, that's wrong, you just have to steam them," Jones whispers beside them.

"Actually that's a misconception," the professor says, "the editors of that book have received my letter that you simply have to steam them to get the proper effect. I won't take away points for the misconception, but, hopefully, five points from Ravenclaw will remind you to not interrupt." He looks at me as though he is really sorry for this, but I don't care about the points. I can't believe I was wrong about that. The book said.

I have a tendency to correct teachers. Some people say I shouldn't, but if they're wrong, they deserve to be corrected. No need to let them instill the wrong knowledge in the impressionable minds of my peers. But normally I'm right. No, actually, I'm always right. Now I look like an idiot. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not an idiot.

I kind of miss the rest of class. I'm mortified. Not only are all my classmates going to get a laugh, Professor Longbottom must think I'm an idiot. To make things worse, I feel like I'm going to cry. Fantastic, my life can get worse. When class is over, I quickly gather my things, but am stopped. "Ms. McNeil, can I talk to you for a moment." Great. Now a lecture from yet another professor about correcting people. I reluctantly walk to the front of the greenhouse.

"Are you okay?" he asks and I'm surprised. "I know how it feels to be called out and it sucks. Are you okay?" Wow. Most teachers aren't this open with you.

"Yeah," I choke out, still not wanting to talk to him, "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? You can talk to me."

"Yes, I'm fine. Goodbye, Professor." I leave the greenhouse to avoid any further conversation. This completely sucks. I nearly run into Mark.

"Are you OK, baby?" he asks.

"I'm fine, just leave me alone." I storm off toward the castle. I feel bad after I say it, but I'm too upset to really care. As I make my way to the Muggle Studies room, I try to calm down. If I can make it through one more class, I'll be fine. This time I'll just shut up and make it through.

I enter the room and take the only available seat which, just my luck, is next to Ellinor Grayson. Not surprisingly, she is one of only three Slytherin's in this room. Luckily, she doesn't talk to me. The woman I recognize from the faculty table, who must be Professor McCalister, enters the room and walks up to the front.

"Welcome to you all. I'm thrilled that you all decided to broaden your cultural knowledge by experiencing how others live." As rehearsed as it sounds, the message is sincere. "Many students say this class is pointless and boring, but I hope you all will look past their critique and attempt to find the interesting aspects of Muggle society. Now if you'll open your books…"

The rest of the lesson was surprisingly relaxing. My favorite blend of new information and quietly knowing the answers made this class look like a good choice. Take that, Jones. He had been right today and now I am. After the class, I make my way to the Great Hall feeling refreshed and back on my game.

I meet Jones and Mark as I enter the room. Jones is sporting a burn on his hand, and Mark looks a little disheveled, which is kind of sexy.

"It was interesting," Mark says when I ask about his class. "Professor Compton has very interesting stories."

"And an unfortunate tendency to leave out important safety information," Jones adds. "How was learning about the boring world?"

"Fascinating," I embellish slightly. We sit and begin to eat. For the rest of the day I'm fine. Transfiguration is pretty great, and History of Magic is comfortably mediocre. I actually start to believe that I'm over the events of earlier that day. The week comfortably continues on. Tuesday is fine and I'm delighted to have my first Ancient Runes lesson. On Wednesday, I make it to after classes.

I'm walking back to the dormitory and I see a group of Ravenclaws in my year, most of whom are girls in my room. They are talking about me.

"It was great," one says, "she was finally shut down."

"She thinks she knows everything, but she doesn't."

"I don't even think she knows our names and we sleep in the same room." She's right.

"She's such a total jerk about it, too. She misses one question and she cries over it."

"It's only a matter of time before she gets dumped."

I can't take it. I turn around and walk away from the common room. Following the path I know by heart, I make my way to an abandoned classroom and walk inside. Within moments, I'm bawling. I collapse into a chair and let the tears come.

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I'm fragile. I know it. I always have been. I'm not good at letting people in because I'm afraid of getting hurt. I'm afraid of leaning on people because I know that inevitably they let you fall. I hate it, but I don't know how to fix it. I'm easily broken, it's a manufacturing error, but I can't change it.

I'm just waiting for Jones and Mark to let me down. I know that at some point one of them, probably both of them will. It was so hard to open up to them, but I did. I finally did, but I'm just waiting for them to make me realize I shouldn't of.

I've been hurt before. I've been abandoned, discarded, and ignored. It's so hard to trust people when your own father has let you down.

Jones is as smart as me, which is something I don't experience often. Our variety of smart is completely different, but it doesn't change the fact that he operates on the level I do. That's so refreshing. They say the smarter you are, the more cynical you are. It almost makes you wonder if people really are as bad as I think they are. Jones has managed something I can't, however. He manages to remain optimistic about life and people. He manages to try to find the best in people and situations. I can't. I look for the best put can't get past the worst they throw in my face. Eventually, the clash between his optimism and my pessimism will become to much and he'll turn on me. I know it.

I think it's good that I can acknowledge my shortcomings, but it doesn't help me change them. I'm still a pessimist. I'm still a cynic. I'm still closed off.

I don't know what Mark sees in me. I can't believe that I'm lucky enough to have someone like him. He's brilliant, but not arrogant about it. He's gorgeous, but doesn't think so. He's such a good friend. He's nice to everyone, even if they've screwed him over. I'm not like that. I'm the antithesis of "that." He's an amazing boyfriend. I don't know what I'd do without him, but I suck at expressing that. Eventually he'll get sick of that and turn on me. I know it.

When one of them finally turns on me, it'll be too much. I'm fragile. I'll break. And that time, it'll be into too many pieces. I won't recover. I'm so scared of when that happens because it will. I know it.

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"Are you okay?" Jones asks from the doorway.

"I'm fine."

"I just found you crying in an empty classroom. Don't try and sell me that bull. I'm not buying."

I love that he has the strength to not except that answer.

"Why are they mean?"

"Because they're jealous."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I'm not. You are so much smarter and well read then they are that it's unfathomable to them. So to compensate, they mock you."

"Do you think so?"

"I know so. Now if you're going to let those bitches walk all over you, I can't sit here and comfort you." He walks over and sits in the desk next to me.

"I wish I wouldn't, but they get to me. I wish they wouldn't but they do."

"That just means you have remarkably managed to stay soft in a world where everyone makes you hard." A look of realization flashes across his face. "That was not how I should have phrased that." He chuckles, and I laugh. It feels good.

"I know what you mean. I suppose I'll take that as a compliment."

"Take as both. If you're too soft you won't survive."

"I suppose you'll just have to help me get harder."

"I'll leave that to Mark." We share another laugh. It feels nice that someone cares.

"I can't believe I made a fool of myself."

"Everyone screws up sometimes. Except for Mark, I'm pretty sure you've found the perfect man."

"Lucky me. The perfect man and the girl who is the opposite of perfect."

"You're closer than you think."

"Thanks for lying."

"I'm not."

I wipe my face and stand up. Jones stands too. For a moment, I just stand there. This is what it's like to have a best friend. I like it. Despite this, it won't last. Eventually, we'll break. I know it. But for now, it's worth it.

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