Chapter 6: Little Black Book
Back in the common room, I spend about an hour churning out a decent essay for Slughorn, and get a good start on McGonagall's stupid assignment. Who cares about rematerialization? At 10:30, I switch to practicing the nonverbal charms Flitwick assigned us, with limited success.
Finally, I drag myself up to the dorms, pack my bag for tomorrow, and sink into my four-poster, quickly falling asleep.
I wake bleary-eyed the next morning, with unsettling dream-fragments lingering in my mind. Something about drowning in an inky black lake, and being saved by…who? I can't seem to recall much at all.
Once again, I've been jolted into consciousness far too early. It seems to be my routine now, waking up at ten to six. After a lovely shower, I glance at the mirror and decide to do something about the monstrosity that is my face.
I don't fully trust myself with cosmetic charms, but luckily, I have an unopened muggle cosmetic kit at the bottom of my trunk. I'm not sure what half the stuff in there is for, so I just brush on light pink eyeshadow, black eyeliner, and a soft blush. After carefully applying "lengthening mascara" and soft pink lipgloss, I step back and survey the results.
Not bad. The eyeshadow and blush make me look wide-awake and fresh-faced, and it's all subtle enough to make a difference without turning me into a clown. If only I could do something about my horrid uniform to make it more flattering.
Quietly, I slip out of the dorm and walk to the Library, intending to finish my Divination predictions. When I reach there, Madam Pince is nowhere to be seen. In fact, there isn't a soul in there, not even some of the more obsessive Ravenclaws.
I sit down at a table in a quiet corner and pull out my charts. In earlier years, I was a silly girl. I actually believed all of Professor Trelawney's predictions and all. I know better now. That first day, when she made all those impressive predictions- some of it was true, but the majority was just the result of keen observation.
Knowing that, Divination is an easy O for me. For my monthly prediction charts, I write down stuff that's liable to happen, throw in a few unfortunate situations, and quote the alignment of different stars and planets as reasons. Lavender still hasn't gotten the hang of it, for some unknown reason.
My chart finished, I realize that I still have some time to kill. I don't really want to go to breakfast. I remember that little black book I snuck out of the library yesterday, and pull it out to browse through its pages.
The pages are thin and fragile, yellowing. It's also written, not printed, in a slanting, old-fashioned hand. The ink has faded from black to brown, the lines thin and spidery. In an inner corner of the cover, I see a name- Elizabeth Prince. The date underneath is July of 1857.
I'm shocked that a book more than 100 years old can be in such good condition, but then I realize that Madam Pince and her predecessors would probably kill themselves if they let a book fall to pieces.
The front page has the words 'A Compendium of Beautifying Elixirs' written in calligraphy, with a sketch of a pretty girl underneath.
Suddenly, my heart is hammering. Beautifying elixirs might just do the trick. I've never been a Potions genius, but I'm not horrible at it either. Depending on how good this Elizabeth person was, this could be the cure for my horrid looks!
A small corner of my mind snidely points out that there will always be room for improvement, but I ignore it and flick through the pages, taking in the titles of the potions.
A cream for smooth skin, one to keep skin fair, and what looks to be a magical version of sunblock. Various hair potions. Recipes for various cosmetics. And, at the very back of the book, an untitled potion. It seems to be roughly scribbled down, but one line above the list of ingredients makes me catch my breath.
"For a slender, beautiful figure."
I wonder how many other girls had found this book, had used this same potion. No wonder all the Ravenclaws were slim! And Hermione Granger, too. They probably combed through the entire library once a week, so they must have found this book.
I almost head down to breakfast, but catch myself. I can't go about bingeing. The potion might be too hard for me to make, or the ingredients too hard to find.
Still, I have hope.
I make my way to Charms at a leisurely pace. When I reach, I insinuate myself next to Lavender, who doesn't seem to notice my arrival any more than she noticed I wasn't there at breakfast.
Idly, I wonder what would happen if everybody stopped noticing me. If I became accomplished in the art of virtual invisibility. Would I eventually fade away, little by little until I disappeared entirely?