DAY OF THE FIRST WORDS
Dear Diary,
I am almost as brilliant at making an idiot of myself as I am making a total moron myself. See the subtle difference there in that comparison? Or maybe you just see a horrible fail at a metaphor, or whatever is. Then again, diaries can't even see. Or maybe they do. Maybe diaries know everything...
That's fucking creepy.
I mean, what other Slytherin guy would jump off of the tree branch and then snatch a girl's hood to balance himself? And then have her fall on him? On the bright side, she wasn't hurt... I think. I don't think that she would have told me, even if she was. I really don 't know if all Ravenclaws are like that... but...
Okay, so I jump. The girl I've been randomly eyeing falls, and then we're on the ground with her on top. I make some awfully perverted comment on how nice it is to be on the bottom for a change, and the girl turns bright red and starts to stumble away. And- as if I haven't scared the poor girl enough- I take her arm and apologize profusely. She nods and tries to pull away again, but, well, I don't let her.
I guess I was rather desperate for humanity. But I didn't know what to say to her. And the first thing that came to my mind was Dumbledore's short letter from before. "Do you know what OMH is?" I asked the Ravenclaw, rather awkwardly, actually. "Dumbledore told me that he has it..."
"I-don't-know-sorry," the girl answered quickly. Her words all ran together in a way that it took me a second to figure out what she meant to say. And it was almost sort of cute. She reminded me of Astoria Greengrass.
I started to really think about the acronym then, and also started worry a little. This small bout of worrying involved me pacing back and forth, muttering aloud and pondering what the letters could stand for. What if OMH was some sort of terminal illness? Why hadn't I checked to see if Dumbledore was still alive? But wouldn't that have been announced...? What if it was all being kept secret? What if I was the only one who knew? What if it was all a damn conspiracy?
"You-could-check."
The girl hadn't left, but she was on the verge of doing so, it seemed. Her knees were all locked-up and her hands shook and her face was still flaming. I felt happy, somehow, that she hadn't left. She was reminding me of something that I couldn't quite recall, actually. I still can't remember what it was.
"Want to come with me?" I offered. The girl shook her head and refused politely, still frozen in place. I shrugged and started walking, then glanced over my shoulder. She was following me. I got an idea, something that might have compensated for my previous moronic tendencies. "What's your name?" I asked, not facing the Ravenclaw. I was still walking.
"Lisa."
"Last name?"
"...Turpin."
"And you're in Ravenclaw, right?"
"Yes."
"Do you read?"
"Er..."
"No, then?"
"Yes... but..."
"But what?"
"That's-a-sterotype."
"We have a lot of those, too," I informed Lisa. "Everyone seems to think that guys like me are women-obsessed jerks who hate Gryffindors, when, in reality, women hate me and I'm horrible at being mean and I don't think Ravenclaws are nerds. I think there's something wrong with me, actually."
"We're-going-the-wrong-way... you-know," she said after a beat of silence. I told her that this was a shortcut.
And, okay, maybe I was just testing her. But it was a fun game, trying to make the girl speak. I wanted her to shout and fight and laugh, so much so that I couldn't remember why I had been depressed before. Not that I don't now, but even now, the thought of her lifts me up. Well, not really her herself, but the game. Is that wrong?
"We... passed the office... already," Lisa said. Slowly, instead of quickly. It was different, at least.
"We might be lost," I informed her. Lisa shook her head, then paused. I motioned for her to speak.
"This-way." She led me through the halls and I followed, still questioning her. What did she read, and what didn't she? What did she read that I would like? What did she think I would like?
She giggled just a little at the last one. I looked at her questioningly, resisting the smile that was threatening to show on my face. She thought for a moment and then told me, "You're not... a reader... are you?" I shook my head in agreement. Which is actually an oxymoron, sort of. Maybe. "You write."
I looked at her in surprise, and the girl shrugged. She looked back at me. "I-see-you-write," she said, both bold and nervous at once.
I was about to reply when Dumbledore suddenly breezed past us, flying as if he had a broom. And he didn't. He looked surprisingingly healthy.
"Headmaster, what the hell is OMH?" I demanded, eyes all narrowed. Lisa's eyes went wide at the curse.
Dumbledore spun around, robes swirling, and answered, "Old man humor! It's what makes me so awesome!" And then he was gone, leaving nothing but a psychotic chuckle in his wake. Also, Lisa and me. Lisa looked up at me curiously. For a moment we both just looked at each other, wondering what the hell had just happened.
Then Lisa said, suddenly, "You-shouldn't-swear."
I laughed, and I had to sit down on the stone floor because I couldn't keep my balance. I was crying again, and Lisa just stood there all frozen again. But then her body thawed a small amount, and she relaxed. She smiled, then froze. Smiled again. I grinned at her and continued to laugh like crazy, bent over my knees as if I were lightheaded. I actually was, sort of. Everything on my back had just crashed to the ground, and I didn't bother to pick up the pieces to try and glue them back together.
Instead, I took Lisa's ankle and used it as support.
She didn't flinch this time.
"There's someone I think you should meet," I told her.
TO BE CONTINUED...