A/N: Yes, I know it's been awhile. This chapter really dragged on for me to write and it's not my best. But I felt that somehow what happens in it had to come eventually, so here it is!
Chapter Fourteen: The Change of Pace
October 3rd, 2016, was not the best of days for me. It was a Monday after a miserable weekend during which Natasha Quinn nearly damaged my camera and Matthew Wood called me an unrepeatable word behind my back. It was raining when I woke that morning and apparently, I overslept, as my four roommates were already awake, rushing around the room getting dressed.
"Hurry, will you!" Arria tossed my school robes at me, a hairbrush in her hand. "Breakfast is nearly over!"
We had all been up late the previous night, struggling to finish our difficult Defense Against the Dark Arts homework that was due later that morning. I was the last to fall asleep, having wanting to check over my completed paper before putting it away. That morning, wide-eyed and frazzled, I jumped out of bed – literally, even, due to the crack of a thunder clap overhead.
I left Gryffindor Tower on my own, running at full speed to the Great Hall, my bag beating violently against my side. Several third-years already leaving breakfast passed; Michael was one of them and chuckled when he saw me. I didn't even have the time to snarl at him; instead I sped around the group and entered the Hall, just able to snatch some toast before the food-filled plates disappeared and the remaining students left for class.
I had Charms first hour and I made it to the classroom just as Bufflee was about to shut the door. Knitting her eyebrows together, she frowned down at my sweaty, panting exterior. "Let's not make this a habit, Miss Longbottom – get in."
I slipped in past her and took the last remaining seat at a table with some Hufflepuffs. Miraculously, I saw Arria, Natasha, Julianne, and Laura all at a table together, somehow having made it to class just before they'd be considered late. Julianne giggled out loud at me, while Natasha had a petite smirk on her face.
"Hey," James nudged me from the table behind, "where were you at breakfast?"
Bufflee was marching up to the blackboard. "Quills out, ladies and gentlemen!"
"I overslept," I mouthed to my friend.
He shrugged at me, clearly unimpressed. I rolled my eyes and turned away, dipping my quill into my ink bottle.
DADA was next. I half-expected my essay that I was so proud of to not be in my bag when I looked, but fortunately, it was right where I left it last night. Instead, it turned out to be in Transfiguration that I had misplaced my homework, leading to me desperately turning my bag inside out to find it. Professor Cole stood before my desk impatiently, the rest of the class's papers in his arms. "No luck, Longbottom?"
Finally, I placed my bag aside in ashamed embarrassment. "…Nothing, sir."
"If you find it, bring to me at lunch," he replied firmly, and swept off.
Across the aisle, Laura Creevey leaned over to speak to me. "Alice… your homework…it's on the floor of our room. I meant to tell you but you left so quickly this morning…"
"Thanks," I didn't sound as relieved as I really was, causing Laura to back away, looking somewhat hurt.
We were dismissed for mealtime at the end of Transfiguration, and I took this time to hurry back to the dormitory to search for my worksheet. I finally found it underneath Julianne's bed, which led me to wonder. After delivering my homework to Cole, there was no point in going for lunch; I ended up being the first in line waiting outside the History of Magic classroom when everyone else arrived straight from the Great Hall.
Herbology was the last class of the day for us Gryffindors. I entered the greenhouse tired and frustrated and dreading the amount of homework I had to complete that night. Not even Dad's welcoming grin brightened my mood. James had purposely avoided me that day, seeing that I was crabby, and he quickly paired with Matthew for today's assignment before I could ask to work with him. Knowing that she wouldn't strike up conversation, I approached Laura to work with; she looked surprised but didn't question my action.
"Good afternoon, class!" My father was known for being the chirpiest teacher on the staff, always trying to bring the cheerfulness out of his students. Usually he succeeded at this, especially with me, but that day, a frown stayed plastered on my face.
"Today we'll be discussing Devil's Snare and its effects and weaknesses…and no, Mr. Potter, we will not be experimenting with it!" Dad eyed James, who only smirked along with Matthew. During the past few Herbology sessions, James had been sneaking semi-dangerous plants out of the greenhouse and using them in his pranks on the Slytherins. He only got caught by Dad the previous class, which explained my father's warning glance.
"Creevey, Longbottom, would you two please collect the flower pots from the last class?"
The said pots were strewn across the greenhouse's working table, covered in dirt and shrubbery of all sorts. Annoyed that Dad once again selected me to clean up another's mess, I huffily joined Laura in gathering the pots, and we placed them off to the side.
As we sat back down, Dad begun lecturing and paper and pen were drawn. My ears never comprehended his words, but yet I could see words spilling out onto my parchment. The clock in my head began counting down the minutes until I could run back to the school and hide under my pillow for the rest of the day.
"…If ever captured by Devil's Snare, a victim need only remain still, and then will be released…"
Twenty minutes…nineteen…
"…It breeds in batches of about a hundred and can reproduce quickly…"
…Fourteen, thirteen…
"Can anyone tell me how Devil's Snare is useful to the environment? Yes, Basil?"
…Ten, nine, eight…
"Ten points to Slytherin!"
Three…two…one!
Brrring! The school bell throbbed, and the twenty of us scrambled to our feet, gathering together quills and paper and shoving them into our bags. My father began calling out our homework assignment, most of his words being blatantly ignored by the class. Not seeming to mind very much, Dad grinned to himself, and on the way to his desk, he tossed out, "Longbottom, would you please tell my next class to meet me in Greenhouse 3?"
It was the first time I ever spoke back to any teacher, but it was about ten times worse with that teacher being my father who I loved immensely. Without thinking, I found myself saying, "Oh, do it yourself!"
The remaining students in the greenhouse oohed and snickered, and Dad shot them a look, causing them to hurry out quickly, laughing among themselves. "Alice Pomona," his voice was low and had a warning tone, "do you want to explain yourself?"
My heart was pounding and my face was red. "I-I'm sorry. I've just had a bad day."
"That's still no excuse to sass a teacher, even if it's me."
"…I know."
"I'm going to treat you like I would any other student, all right?"
"Yes…"
My father seemed stern. "Detention, Miss Longbottom. Tonight at seven, in Greenhouse 3." He hesitated, looking reluctant, but continued, "And fifteen points from Gryffindor."
My mouth dropped, but I nodded obediently, tossing my bag onto my shoulder and flouncing out of the greenhouse without a second look back. By this time, my classmates were already halfway back to the castle, but I didn't mind. I was so infuriated that I probably would snap at anyone who approached me then.
When I entered the school through the entry hall, I found both James and Matthew waiting for me by one of the enchanted suits of armor. Keeping my eyes focused ahead, I stomped past, and looking away from the metallic knight they were fighting off, the boys ran up to my side.
"Alice, what happened with you and Longbottom?" James quickened his step to keep up with me. "All those Slytherins came out saying that you sassed him!"
"I did," My loud footsteps echoed throughout the hall as I pounded my feet against the marble staircase. "And my own dad gave me detention!"
"Whoa!" Matthew burst out laughing, thumping at my back. "Daddy's little girl got in trouble! Good for you!" I quickly jerked away from his touch.
James looked amused as well. "Wow! I never thought he'd actually give you detention even if you deserved it! Your dad's cooler than I thought!"
"Oh, shut it!" I broke into a run and dashed in the opposite direction, my destination being nowhere in particular. Eventually, I reached the library and picked out a secluded corner amidst stacks of books for myself. Sinking down to the floor, I felt embarrassed, guilty, and alone. For the first time, I found myself missing Liana and wishing she'd appear to comfort me in some wonderfully 'Liana' way. If Mum were there, she'd talk Dad out of his angry mood, and get me out of my detention.
Detention – it was a word I associated with troublesome boys, and occasionally Arria Jordan. I didn't think I could live down the embarrassment of being given punishment by Dad, even if it might not be the only time he'd do so. What would Mum say when she found out?
"Alice?" A voice came from behind the shelf in front of me, and then, Matthew Wood peeked out from behind the shelf. "Can I talk to you?"
"Do you just want to insult me?" I shot back, considering using my bag as a weapon if he began teasing me.
"Um…no," Matthew sat in the chair at the table across from me. "Look, I know we don't really get along very well. And I have to admit that my first impression of you was a spoiled daddy's girl."
"What?" I began reaching for my bag's strap.
"But that's not what I wanted to say!" Matthew leaned back defensively. "What I wanted to say is that now I see you're not spoiled and that you can keep up with boys a lot."
"Your point?"
"I don't think you're that bad."
I paused, my hand midway to the strap. "Oh…well…thanks, I guess…since you said you're sorry, you're not that bad either."
Matthew smiled appreciatively. "Thanks. So…friends?" He extended a hand.
I managed to smile back. "Friends." We shook on it.
My detention consisted of spending time in Greenhouse 3, which housed far more dangerous plants than Greenhouse 1, where all of our Herbology classes took place. Dad stayed with me in case any species decided to be feisty with me. We did not speak; instead, I watered the plants and cleaned working tables as my father instructed me to do. In actuality, it was just like when I was younger and we lived in Godric's Hollow, and I'd help Dad tidy up our greenhouse in the backyard.
Beforehand, Arria Jordan had given me detention survival tips at dinner, such as to avoid eye contact with the teacher and to wear your uniform to the session. I obeyed these directions and secretly hoped that Dad was hurt by me refusing to look at him. I knew that my parents had kept me in line properly and never spoiled me, but I also knew how to soften up my father and trigger his guiltiness.
Luckily, the days following my detention ran along more smoothly than the miserable October 3rd. My dad kept me after class one day and we reconciled; I agreed to try to fully accept the fact that while at Hogwarts, he had to be my teacher before acting as my father.
"However," he cheekily added, with a sneaky grin on his face, "there's no rule that I should keep deducting points from my own House, right?"
In free time, I got to know Matt, as he begged me to call him. I learned that he was the second of five children, and his older sister Rebecca was a Ravenclaw fourth-year. In all, he had three sisters and one brother, who wasn't even a year old yet. I wondered to myself if the lack of another male presence for so long was a cause of how Matt was now – somewhat belittling but respectful to girls when he wanted to be. I discovered this respecting trait when he began holding doors open for me when we and James walked to class together and when he let me have the last chicken leg at dinner one night.
As October wore on, I could definitely see a three-way friendship among James, Matt, and I. They were better company than my roommates, as far as I was concerned, and I had known one of them my whole life anyways. Many times during meals I'd catch Professor McGonagall taking the three of us in, looking almost nostalgic.
"Yeh three probably remind her o' Harry and his mates," Hagrid noted when we visited him one Friday. It was the first time James and I had taken Matt to his hut with us, and our friend was currently goggling over Hagrid's drooling pet dog resting in the corner of the room. "He and Ron and Hermione – thick as thieves tha' they were." He grinned over at James knowingly. "And they still are, o' course."
James had been snickering over Matt's fear of Fang the dog, not paying full attention to Hagrid. When he heard the mention of his father, aunt, and uncle, he feigned surprise, and I smirked into my tea mug (I still always accepted Hagrid's food and beverage offers to be polite). I knew James missed his family, as much as he pretended he didn't. I happened to know that he wrote his parents twice nearly every week, but like him, I acted as if I was oblivious to this. If I ever approached him about homesickness, he would defend himself.
By this time of the month, I had sorted out what types of people other first years were. I knew students in other Houses by name, and some only by face. The Gryffindors I could classify simply.
Natasha Quinn and Julianne Corners were the mean girls, wanting to look no further than each other for friends. Arria Jordan was the tomboy who loved causing mischief. Fred Weasley was the ringmaster of trouble, while Martin Thomas and Kyle Norsworthy were his silent but loyal sidekicks. Laura Creevey was the shy, meek one and the girl who I sometimes forgot was present in class or at mealtimes. James and Matt were the secondary pranksters, who were cunning enough to perform tricks under the radar. I secretly thought they were better mischief-makers than Fred and his gang, due to the fact that James and Matt had nearly never gotten caught by teachers.
Around mid-October, word flew that the first years would be taking a several-week flying course to learn how to properly ride a broomstick. Students who wished to only had to attend the first class and then stop going. Those who wanted to improve immensely could sit through the whole course.
The morning of the course's start, I sat with James and Matt at breakfast and they eagerly talked of nothing but the flying class. "I hope this teacher knows what she's doing," James mused, shoveling eggs into his mouth. "I've been flying since I could walk!"
I laughed. "Oh, of course you have." We both knew how he had been terrified to ride only two feet into the air on his toy broomstick when he first received it.
James pushed me away playfully. I had just snatched up a handful of toast to toss at him, but spotted my father's warning look from the corner of my eye. Disappointedly, I laid the toast back on my plate and Matt smirked.
"I swear, I couldn't have picked more entertaining mates," he was grinning widely. "I don't know about you two, but I plan to blow that teacher's socks off with my flying skills."
If he had said this a month before, I would have grown cross with him for bragging. But now that I knew him, it was obvious to me that Matt had lived exaggerating his abilities, to try to outshine his older sister and steal attention from his younger ones. As the oldest of three, I never felt the need to embellish talents, even though I had no clue if I possessed any kind of talent.
Breakfast ended and we trooped over to our first class of the day, DADA. Our next lesson would be flying, and our eagerness for this was evident throughout class. Madden finally gave up trying to teach and let us talk quietly among ourselves for the rest of the period. As I began packing away my quill and ink bottle, I caught sight of Laura Creevey from behind me, her face insipid and her eyes fearsome.
Curious, I spoke up. "Laura, are you all right?"
Her head jerked up as she glanced over at me. "Oh…I…I'm just a little nervous, that's all."
"To fly?"
"Sort of."
"Flying isn't so bad," I consoled.
Laura only shook her head and glanced away.
The bell rang then and we all nearly jumped out of our seats. We were to meet up with the Ravenclaws out on the lawn behind the castle as soon as our first class was through. On the walk to outside, James began excitedly rattling off flying tips to anyone who would listen. When this failed, he started bragging of all the Quidditch players in his family, from his dad and uncle, who mutually played on the Gryffindor team, and his mum, who played both in school and professionally.
I was not one of those who paid attention to his rants. I was instead thinking of my parents, neither of which being very well-accomplished athletes. Since the age of five I had continuously been told of how my father's first flying lesson went by Dad himself, who found the story rather amusing about twenty-five years later. The lesson had concluded early for him when he broke his wrist after losing control of his broomstick.
As for Mum, she despised flying. She once proudly confirmed that she hadn't planted her behind on a broom since her first flying lesson. My mother had even chosen walking on foot to a friend's wedding over flying there with the rest of the bridal party.
"It's not good to lose your head in the clouds, Alice, even if it's only for awhile," she once advised me. "It's important to stay grounded…the worst things can happen if you let dreaming run your mind…"
Although I had little experience, the few times I had been on a broom were pleasurable. I'd certainly never be as skilled as James or Matt, but could catch up to them someday.
On the luscious, bottle green lawn, Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, was waiting for us, her posture rigid and firm, and her mouth in a tight line. "Single file, please! No talking!" When we were in two straight lines, separated by House, the squinty-eyed woman studied us, our build, and the strength in our arms. When she was contented, Hooch blew shrilly on the whistle hanging from her neck and we winced.
"I trust you all have enough sense to recognize the object in front of you," she snipped, gesturing towards the twenty broomsticks laid out on the lawn. "Broomstick flying is not the most common of magical transportation, but here at Hogwarts it may grow to be ordinary for you…"
And so it went on. Throughout the opening lecture, James hissed corrections towards Madam Hooch and she'd shoot him piercing looks. When it came to our actual flying time, I finally realized how poorly the school broomsticks were crafted. Both Matt and James cursed under their breaths as they tried to levitate on these brooms, but once both were in the air, they showed off their expertise, leading to Madam Hooch applauding them reluctantly. Along with many others, it took me some time to master the skill of ascending on this strange broomstick and I struggled a bit while in the atmosphere. Madam Hooch only clucked her tongue when seeing me nearly slip off the edge of my broomstick. I could imagine her thinking back to my father's first flying tutorial that ended in an injury and hoping I would not accomplish the same.
Laura Creevey, however, was on the verge of hurting herself more than I was. She whimpered helplessly when in the air for the first time, causing Madam Hooch to scolding her. "Creevey, really, there is no room for five-year-olds in flying class!"
I glanced over my shoulder at Hooch and Laura, who looked crestfallen. A tiny voice inside of me wanted to ask if the latter was all right, if she wanted some assistance. Just as I was mustering courage to approach Laura, she landed back on the ground, eyes hazy and head bowed low.
The class lasted a good hour before Madam Hooch dismissed us. On our way to our next class, I could feel my muscles contract uncomfortably as I walked to Transfiguration. The Gryffindor boys, all having received somewhat positive feedback from the flying teacher, whooped and chattered animatedly of the lesson and the future, where they'd be able to try out for the House Quidditch team. The girls, like me, seemed bruised and weary, already sure that they wouldn't return for the next flying class. I kept my mixed comments of the lesson to myself, having not fully hated it, but having not loved it as well.
Laura Creevey had retreated towards the back of our crowd, her books pressed firmly against her chest, her eyes glued to the floor. I paused, perhaps to let her catch up with me, but Professor Cole hurried us into the classroom at the last minute. When seeing my roommate select a seat in the dark corner of the room, I hesitated once more, but then planted my books on the desk next to her and sat down at it. I didn't do it out of sympathy, I thought, but I could tell others did think this by the snickers that came from Natasha Quinn's direction.
"Hi," I smiled gently at her. "What did you put for the second homework question?"
Her eyes enlarged while glancing sideways at me and I noticed how beautifully blue Laura's pupils were. She looked down so often that I had never observed her face closely before.
"Err…"
"This?" I showed her my paper.
"Yes," Laura edged her chair away from me a bit. "…Transfiguration's my best subject…so far, at least…um…"
"Mine as well," I grinned at her again; this time she faintly returned my gesture. Somehow, I knew she meant it.
And there began a new change of pace, a new friendship, and another new beginning.
A/N: Please review and tell me a favorite part of yours!
