Hogwarts Story: Part 2
Nov. 16th, 2005 11:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
unforthWell, here is the next installment. I hope to write a couple pages every night, so, well, assuming anyone is reading this, keep up with it, and get on my case if more than a few days go by with nothing (this might all fall apart over Thanksgiving break, but oh well. :) Anyway, onto the writing and such!
Thus, I found myself in a peculiar intermediate position as the years at Hogwarts passed slowly. On the one hand, I am and always have been something of a private person, not given to excessive interest in social interactions and not, in my opinion terribly good with people. On the other hand, I discovered something of a taste for business, and I enjoyed the small amount of luxury that raising my own money was able to afford me. The fact it was luxury, such as new robes, that my parents should by all rights have been able to provide me with anyway never really occurred to me. I was pleased with the benefits of having money, I was glad that I could buy my school things, my books, my ingredients. My parents never once asked where I got the money, and I never told them. I imagine they still don’t know.
The biggest surprise for me, given the generally closeted nature of my first two years at Hogwarts, was the inclusion of a Prefects badge in the list of materials I needed for my third year of school. At first, I thought that there must be some mistake, for surely there must be a more qualified candidate in the school. Over the next few days, though, as I slowly worked through the question of “why me,” I realized a few things. First, I could think of only perhaps one or two other girls in the third, fourth and fifth years of study who might be qualified. Most of the Ravenclaws were even more studious then myself, more quiet and introverted and generally secluded. My business dealings had given me at least the appearance of interest in something beyond books. Second, though I couldn’t exactly pin down what effect it would have, was surely the muggle “war to end all wars.” That summer, many pure bloods, from my family and from others, still believed it was a war only of concern to the muggles – how foolish we were – but still, it had a profound affect on people all over Europe, so I thought perhaps it might have affected some of my more qualified classmates, and hence explain my selection. Third, and I decided, probably most likely, was the favor I had with the head master. Though I know to that, to this day, most look at me with stunned amazement when I say this, I have always had a very high opinion of Phineas Nigellus, and have seen him as my mentor. No matter what can be said about him in the capacity of head master of Hogwarts, he was an unmatched potions master, and I credit him with a great deal of the success I have had throughout my life. My admiration of him translated effectively into a tendency to follow him around, seek his advice, and generally pursue his input on matters related to potions, and I flatter myself to think that he was impressed with my abilities. Hence, I supposed that my promotion to the rank of Prefect was almost surely a credit to his influence.
However, I am digressing quite badly, I apologize. It’s amazing to me how clearly the details of events that are so long passed still return to me so vividly. It’s hard not to pursue these tangents that seize my fancy, for they allow me if only for a few moments longer to immerse myself in the lost days of my youth.
The summer before my third year passed quickly. My parents were at first enthusiastically pleased with my new badge and congratulated me most effusively. However, as the days passed, their praise became less and less complimentary, until, in the end, the message was simple. “Congratulations on being made a prefect, darling, but it would mean so much more if you were a Slytherin.” This didn’t surprise in particular, really, for they had had precisely the same reaction when I was named keeper of the Quidditch team. Excellent really, they’d say, a great achievement, but. I wouldn’t have been bothered by this but for the fact that it represented such a sad transformation. They wanted to be proud of me, I know that they did, and they always were proud of me, until they remembered that I was not in Slytherin House. The moment that they recalled the eagle on my badge their pride faded into an emotion I always feared to think of as shame. I used to find myself wondering if they ever told their friends about me, or if they pretended I didn’t really exist. I was terrified that it was the later. I’ve never admitted that before.
I approached the train station on the first day of classes with mixed feelings. I was nervous about my new role of authority. At the same time, I anticipated with excitement the first day of classes, when I would begin advanced potions a year before I was technically supposed to be allowed to. It would be reasonable to assume that I wanted to see my old friends, but that would be untrue, for, sadly, I had surprisingly few friends. I was acquainted with the other members of the Quidditch team, but the majority of them had graduated; I knew the other people in my year, but none well; my only consistent business associates were the Lunari twins, two mischievous Gryffindor’s who I made an effort to avoid public contact with. It was, in truth, a rather sad situation, but fortunately my new position as Prefect would do much to remedy it over the following year. Still, as I kissed my mother good bye and took my trunk from my father, contents rattling, I couldn’t help but wonder what the year ahead held in store for me. Would I be a good prefect? Would I learn many interest things? Would the Quidditch team do well? Would I finally be forced into studying Automata? What would the new students at the school be like? Only a child could have contained so many anxieties within her head without suffering some form of breakdown – not that I thought of myself as a child then.
My responsibilities as Prefect began as soon as I boarded the train. While the other students spent their train rides eating treats from the food cart and catching up with friends, I spent mine in the front cabin along with the other new prefects and the new head boy and head girl being acquainted with the responsibilities and authorities that had been granted to each of us. It was all a little daunting. We were expected to be well conversant with school rules and to make sure that the students in our houses – and in other houses, if such a situation arose - were following these rules (and there were many, many rules!), to perform many service duties such as helping with chores and helping professors with demonstrations and the like, and more, so much more, that had to be done, all in addition to maintaining our studies and any other extracurricular activities that we were involved in.
Thus, I found myself in a peculiar intermediate position as the years at Hogwarts passed slowly. On the one hand, I am and always have been something of a private person, not given to excessive interest in social interactions and not, in my opinion terribly good with people. On the other hand, I discovered something of a taste for business, and I enjoyed the small amount of luxury that raising my own money was able to afford me. The fact it was luxury, such as new robes, that my parents should by all rights have been able to provide me with anyway never really occurred to me. I was pleased with the benefits of having money, I was glad that I could buy my school things, my books, my ingredients. My parents never once asked where I got the money, and I never told them. I imagine they still don’t know.
The biggest surprise for me, given the generally closeted nature of my first two years at Hogwarts, was the inclusion of a Prefects badge in the list of materials I needed for my third year of school. At first, I thought that there must be some mistake, for surely there must be a more qualified candidate in the school. Over the next few days, though, as I slowly worked through the question of “why me,” I realized a few things. First, I could think of only perhaps one or two other girls in the third, fourth and fifth years of study who might be qualified. Most of the Ravenclaws were even more studious then myself, more quiet and introverted and generally secluded. My business dealings had given me at least the appearance of interest in something beyond books. Second, though I couldn’t exactly pin down what effect it would have, was surely the muggle “war to end all wars.” That summer, many pure bloods, from my family and from others, still believed it was a war only of concern to the muggles – how foolish we were – but still, it had a profound affect on people all over Europe, so I thought perhaps it might have affected some of my more qualified classmates, and hence explain my selection. Third, and I decided, probably most likely, was the favor I had with the head master. Though I know to that, to this day, most look at me with stunned amazement when I say this, I have always had a very high opinion of Phineas Nigellus, and have seen him as my mentor. No matter what can be said about him in the capacity of head master of Hogwarts, he was an unmatched potions master, and I credit him with a great deal of the success I have had throughout my life. My admiration of him translated effectively into a tendency to follow him around, seek his advice, and generally pursue his input on matters related to potions, and I flatter myself to think that he was impressed with my abilities. Hence, I supposed that my promotion to the rank of Prefect was almost surely a credit to his influence.
However, I am digressing quite badly, I apologize. It’s amazing to me how clearly the details of events that are so long passed still return to me so vividly. It’s hard not to pursue these tangents that seize my fancy, for they allow me if only for a few moments longer to immerse myself in the lost days of my youth.
The summer before my third year passed quickly. My parents were at first enthusiastically pleased with my new badge and congratulated me most effusively. However, as the days passed, their praise became less and less complimentary, until, in the end, the message was simple. “Congratulations on being made a prefect, darling, but it would mean so much more if you were a Slytherin.” This didn’t surprise in particular, really, for they had had precisely the same reaction when I was named keeper of the Quidditch team. Excellent really, they’d say, a great achievement, but. I wouldn’t have been bothered by this but for the fact that it represented such a sad transformation. They wanted to be proud of me, I know that they did, and they always were proud of me, until they remembered that I was not in Slytherin House. The moment that they recalled the eagle on my badge their pride faded into an emotion I always feared to think of as shame. I used to find myself wondering if they ever told their friends about me, or if they pretended I didn’t really exist. I was terrified that it was the later. I’ve never admitted that before.
I approached the train station on the first day of classes with mixed feelings. I was nervous about my new role of authority. At the same time, I anticipated with excitement the first day of classes, when I would begin advanced potions a year before I was technically supposed to be allowed to. It would be reasonable to assume that I wanted to see my old friends, but that would be untrue, for, sadly, I had surprisingly few friends. I was acquainted with the other members of the Quidditch team, but the majority of them had graduated; I knew the other people in my year, but none well; my only consistent business associates were the Lunari twins, two mischievous Gryffindor’s who I made an effort to avoid public contact with. It was, in truth, a rather sad situation, but fortunately my new position as Prefect would do much to remedy it over the following year. Still, as I kissed my mother good bye and took my trunk from my father, contents rattling, I couldn’t help but wonder what the year ahead held in store for me. Would I be a good prefect? Would I learn many interest things? Would the Quidditch team do well? Would I finally be forced into studying Automata? What would the new students at the school be like? Only a child could have contained so many anxieties within her head without suffering some form of breakdown – not that I thought of myself as a child then.
My responsibilities as Prefect began as soon as I boarded the train. While the other students spent their train rides eating treats from the food cart and catching up with friends, I spent mine in the front cabin along with the other new prefects and the new head boy and head girl being acquainted with the responsibilities and authorities that had been granted to each of us. It was all a little daunting. We were expected to be well conversant with school rules and to make sure that the students in our houses – and in other houses, if such a situation arose - were following these rules (and there were many, many rules!), to perform many service duties such as helping with chores and helping professors with demonstrations and the like, and more, so much more, that had to be done, all in addition to maintaining our studies and any other extracurricular activities that we were involved in.
