Chapter 3-Pocahontas

"A school newspaper," Professor Longbottom mused. "It could be lucrative, but haven't you anyone else to do it with?"

Leo shook his head. "A lot of my friends wouldn't take it seriously, are worried about their grades, or aren't very good writers."

"Listen, Leo, it isn't just that. We'd have to order the paper. What would you write about? You're just a student. How would you print it?"

"I can work my way around those kinds of things, trust me. It'll be easy."

Longbottom looked skeptical. "I'm sorry, Leo. I'll take it up with the Headmistress, but I don't think it's a good idea. I'd put this dream away until you're old enough to apply for an actual newspaper. Now, if you'll excuse me." He picked up a bag and slung it over his shoulder. "I've to go see Mrs. Longbottom."

Leo's shoulders shrank as he watched the professor exit the green. He'd thought about this all summer and here the third teacher he asked didn't think it would go over well for him. People here read the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, and The Quibbler regularly. Why not his?

He sighed, leaving the plants of the greenhouse behind. He groaned, looking at his watch. He needed to get to History of Magic within the next two minutes. He sped across the green, legs pumping. He was sure to get a detention on his first week of classes. Not the best start to the year, for sure. His stomach churned as he thought of his failure. Things always came so easily to him; it wasn't every day his charm was turned down. Making friends and appeasing teachers was just so easy, like a game to him. He knew even the stubborn, hard-to-get blokes would sidle up to his personality if he was just patient with them. That was his secret, the one he told everyone, they just wouldn't believe. The key to talking is listening. That was something his mother had taught him. As much of a witch as she was. And not the kind he went to school with.

As he streaked through the hallways, he couldn't help but wonder if he should talk to Mary like Albus had suggested. Her hair was really pretty and she was nice…but she was repulsive. They all were. He couldn't take them in large doses. They were just terrible. He hated them. Like stupid Heather. He thought he'd hurt her feelings when he told her he wasn't interested. He tried being friends with her. Then, she forgot about him the minute Fred came back into the picture. It made him sick. Not just her but that he'd pitied her.

He stopped in the doorway of class, panting, and slid into a seat while the professor's back was turned. "Late to my class, Mr. Wespurt?" Binns asked, floating around to look at him. "Not a very promising start to the year. I expect to see you in detention later."

"Oh, no!" a girl's voice piped up. "It wasn't him who was late! It was me!"

Binns looked at her somewhere at the front of the room and knitted his eyebrows. "It was you? But I could've sworn—."

"Oh, yes," she said. Leo couldn't see her, though. She was lost in the sea of heads. "He was here all the time."

The professor nodded. "Yes, well, then I expect you to be here for detention this evening. I apologize, Mr. Wespurt."

"No problem," Leo said, perplexed. Who'd taken the blame for him? And how? She was clearly on the other side of the room. Binns was dead though… He was never known for being the sharpest. Alright, there was that, but then why even do it? Every time he looked through the heads to the front of the room, all he saw was the back of a black figure. He smirked. Maybe she had a crush on him. Flattering, but he'd have to stay away from her if that was the case. The last thing he wanted was a perky girl clinging to his arm.

But when class was out, the seat at the front of the room was empty before the children at the back could file out. She was gone? Weird. That was fast. Really fast.

He got up and began walking to the Gryffindor Common Room with Jeremy.

"Hey, Jeremy," he asked. "Who's that girl you sit next to?"

"Girl?"

"The one who took my detention spot."

"You can do that? No way! I didn't know you could trade detention spots!"

"No, you can't, but a girl said she came in late."

"What girl?"

"I'm asking you. Don't you sit next to her?"

"Sit next to her? Yeah, I guess I do sit next to a girl. She's pretty quiet, though. Don't pay much attention to her. Don't pay much attention in the class, though, either. Mostly practice my ancient runes. And draw. Hey, you should see the drawing of Sean in my notebook, getting his face smashed in with a beater. Oh, it's great."

"So you don't know her name?"

"Whose name?"

"The girl who sits next to you!"

"Well, Melony and Gertrude sit to my left, why?"

"Not them, the other girl!"

"Other girl? Is it a girl I sit next to?"

"Yes, directly to your right."

"What's to my right?"

"The girl."

"What girl? There's just Frederick and Thomas to my right."

"Jeremy, there are three seats to your right."

"Yeah."

"And they're all filled every day."

"Yes."

"But you only in a row with two other boys."

"That's right."

"So, by simple math, there should be one girl to your right. And since Fred and Thomas sit at the window, she should sit right next to you."

"Okay."

"Who is that girl?"

"…What girl?"

"WHAT GIRL?! The one…You having me on, yeah?"

Jeremy stood there blankly. "Leo…I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about. My brain in fried just listening to you."

Leo shook his head incredulously. "This is just like the train ride when I talked to Albus about her…" Leo stopped in place.

"What? What is it?"

"Was it the same girl?"

"Who?"

"Um…forget it. I need to talk to Albus."

They walked up to the Fat Lady as Jeremy complained about early morning Quidditch practice and how he was sure Pat would get keeper because of her small size, which wasn't too far off. Leo's mind was trying to stay on that girl, though. It seemed like the instant he stopped, she would drift from his mind, easily forgotten, like a leaf he'd ripped off a tree to let float down the river, passing from the minds of everyone that saw it, plain and ordinary.

Jeremy stared at him for a moment with knitted eyebrows. "Polyjuice," he told the Fat Lady. "Er, Leo?"

"What?"

"You okay, Mate? It's not like you to zone out like that."

"Mmm."

"MERLIN, YOU ARE THE ANNOYINGEST BOY I'VE EVERY MET!" Pat screamed.

"Wait! Wait!" Albus stopped her. She paused, mid-storm to her dorm to look back at him. "Don't you mean 'most annoying'?"

"UGH!"

"This is why I have no girl friends," Leo said walking through the portrait hole. "They're so emotional. They cause so much drama. Just stay away."

"Easier said than done mate," Albus smirked. "They just love me so much."

"Obviously," Leo said sarcastically.

"Unfortunately, he's right," Rose sighed. "Sons of The Boy Who Lived are pretty hot among the ladies. Enjoy the fame while you can, Albus. One day you won't have girls falling over you. I don't even understand why you never take them up."

"Because it's more fun to torment and annoy them."

"Mate, you're fifteen," Jeremy said. "Don't you think you're a bit old for that sort of thing?"

"Nope."

"No," Leo whispered. "No…"

"You've upset Leo," Rose sighed. "That's pretty hard to do, Albus. You must mature."

"No, I can't remember what I was going to ask you!" Leo lamented.

"Oh."

"What were you thinking about?" Albus asked.

"UGH! I CAN'T REMEMBER! I know it was something important."

"We were talking, let's go back a bit," Jeremy suggested. "Alright, now, you and I were talking about Quiddich."

"Before that."

"My drawings?"

"After that, while we were on the staircases."

"Were we talking, then?"

"Well, we certainly weren't walking in blissful silence, admiring the brushstrokes of the paintings."

"Right, right. I can't remember anything, but it does seem like we were talking about something. That is strange."

"I should cast a memory spell. See if it works," Rose suggested opening her book.

The three boys widened their eyes in unison.

"Ah…yeah, I've tons of homework I haven't done yet," Jeremy smiled, slinking away.

"And I was going to meet a friend in the Great Hall for dinner," Albus smiled awkwardly stepping backwards.

"I'll go with you," Leo agreed. "I'm up for an early dinner. Got no homework."

"Wait, is this because of Jess's nose that one time? I told you guys that was an accident!"

"We're sure it was as much of an accident as Gregory's foot," Albus nodded politely.

"And Daniel's teeth," Leo nodded.

"And the fact that Frieda still can't taste eggs."

"Wait, but—"

"Rose," Leo interrupted her. "You're a lovely witch. No one can brew half of the potions you know or memorize information in Binns's class nearly as fluidly, but please stop trying the new spells."

"Charms aren't your thing cuz," Abus agreed.

"But I—"

The two scurried through the portrait hole before she could close her mouth, talking down to the Great Hall. None of the food was out yet, but Frieda was sitting, back straight, chest high and mighty, surrounded by a group of friends. It was an odd place that had become popular, it being so wide and spacious. The teachers were only around for the meals so every other bit of time, Frieda and her gang of friends danced around the room to the radio and chatted about boys and set off fireworks. Leo knew that Frieda was fascinated with the peculiar things that muggles did meaning everyone who followed her was constantly strung into bizarre activities Leo remembered doing as a child with his parents. Mary being a muggle-born, she was always showing the group odd things like muggle magic tricks, Frisbee, and gymnastics. Leo wondered what odd gag the group was engrossed in today.

"So you mean the pictures move?" Dolores asked. "But the same way every time? Not like a photo?"

Mary nodded. "On the screen. It's called the cinema. You go and watch people act out storylines."

"Oh, a play."

"No, not a play," Mary said, shaking her head. "It's on a screen, not real life."

"I don't get it," she said. "There are people in the screen?"

"Sort of…"

"Hey, Albus! You came!" Frieda waved.

Leo looked between the two. He hadn't made the connection before. "Since when are you two friends?"

"Since Monday when I saved his sorry neck from Malfoy and his goons," Frieda bragged.

"Malfoy was after you?"

Albus nodded. "Yeah. Just the usual. Speaking of which, what were you doing in dungeons, anyway, Frieda? You're not a Slytherin. I was down there because Peeves hid my trunk while I was sleeping."

Frieda thought for a moment. "Ummm…You know I can't remember? Let me think. I was going down there to talk to Sean…I mean…no! I wasn't…haha…I mean why would I want to talk to Sean? I barely know him! I was…Oh! I was with Pocahontas, going to get her books. Yes."

"Pocahontas?" Mary asked. "The Native American princess?"

"No, my friend. You wouldn't know her. It's just a nickname I gave her. OH! Pocahontas! There's a moving picture I've seen. That's one of them, guys. You must see it. It's quit bizarre. The muggles sing in unison for some reason and speak to talking trees."

"Why do you call your friend Pocahontas?"

"Oh. Um, well, I can never seem to remember her real name and she's this odd habit of comparing everything to nature, see. And she jumps off the roof every morning—"

"She jumps off the roof every morning?!" Leo asked. "Is she suicidal?"

"Oh, no. It's not the very top. She's got this section that overhangs a window. She lands fine. Odd, really. I never think about her much. You know I can't remember her with us in the dungeons, but I'm sure she was."

"There was another person," Albus agreed, "but I don't remember who it was."

"What is it with you people?!" Leo shouted, exasperated. "Did you get a memory charm to your brains? Why can't you remember anything?!"

The group looked at him. "What are you talking about, Mate?" Albus asked.

"I'm talking about the train, the ghost story, the girl in class, the girl who brought Frieda into the basement."

"Pocahontas?" Frieda asked. "That's so mean! I remember her."

"Then what's her name?"

"I already told you I gave her that nickname because I can't remember it."

"Exactly! Aren't you her friend? Shouldn't that merit you knowing her real name?"

"Ah…well, it's not a particularly memorable name. I'm sure I could ask another of her friends if I knew any of them."

"She's never mentioned another friend?"

"Not that I know of, no. I don't think much about her, except when I'm having trouble in Charms. She smashing at Charms, she is. Well, the theory, anyway. Not the much the casting. Oh, I had this Charms essay the other day I had to do. Horrible."

"The one about the connection between levitation charms and laughing ones?"

"Yes! That was the worst! How am I supposed to know?"

"Chapter twenty of the textbook," George replied.

"Sorry not everyone's a Ravenclaw," Frieda retorted. "It's the beginning of the year. Why would I be on chapter twenty?"

"It's called a gloss—."

"No, no, no, no, no! We are not getting off topic here!" Leo insisted. "Remember your friend? Pocahontas?"

"It was a good movie," Mary agreed. "At least for muggle standards."

"No, that's not—"

"I didn't say that," Frieda denied. "I enjoyed it. It was just unusual. I didn't know muggles did all that back in the day."

"They didn't—"

"STOP!" Leo shouted. The group paused. "Not the movie. Frieda's friend, Pocahontas. That's her nickname. Are we back on track? Why is it no one knows anything about her? Doesn't she have any friends?"

"She must," Frieda says. "Of course, I've never heard her mention anyone. She is quite an odd, though. I'm not sure why you're so fascinated with her. She's not that interesting. Probably would call the sky her best friend if you asked her. Speaking of which, have you heard about satellites? They're an interesting muggle invention. These little stations they put in the sky to track the weather before it gets to us. Much more accurate than the crystal balls in Divination."

"What is right in Divination?"

Leo couldn't believe this. Did no one find this sad? What was happening? This girl was in his year, had probably been in dozens of his classes yet somehow he'd never noticed her. He hadn't recognized her voice that day, anyway. Well, he knew she was a sixth year and he had History of Magic with Hufflepuff this year…just like the Hufflepuff girl who left his compartment on the train! He sat down as the chatter commenced around him. What had she said on the train? He struggled to remember and hold her image as it slipped and shattered in his hands, breaking down and falling through the cracks of his fingers like sand. He dropped to the floor, trying to grab it.

Merlin, I didn't even notice you!

That was my intention.

That was it. He hadn't noticed before what an unusual response that was. Her intention? What intention? But he answered his own question immediately.

To not be noticed.