𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐞 | 𝐇.𝐏.

𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟏 - 𝟑

"Eye of rabbit, harp string hum. Turn this water into rum."

Honestly, it was the fourth time Seamus Finnigan had repeated that one specific spell, and it was driving me mad.

The entire Gryffindor table was doing their homework while eating breakfast. Even though it was still only the first week of school, the professors did not hesitate to pile on the workload. Especially Professor McGonagall. 

Finally, his wand betrayed him, and the contents of the cup exploded loudly in his face, resulting in soot-caked features and the restricting smell of smoke wafting through the air. I sighed. It wasn't that difficult, he was just flicking his wrist the wrong way.

There were a few laughs, as Finnigan sat stunned, his hair forced straight up. Then, the screech of birds came from overhead. I craned my neck, as did many others, to see hundreds of owls flocking in from the skylights. 

It wasn't hard for me to spot Nora, the largest and darkest owl, flapping her wings lazily until she dropped a letter in front of me. After affectionately nipping my finger, she soared off to the Owlery for a much needed nap.

I cautiously broke the deep red seal, and pulled out the spotless parchment. There were much less words than I would have liked.

It read,

Dearest Alexandra,

I can't say I'm not slightly disappointed in you, and neither can your father. I do agree with Professor McGonagall, though, and I don't think there's much we can do about your current situation as of right now. 

I'm sorry you feel separated from Draco, but I'm sure there's other ways you can communicate with him, on weekends and breaks for example. 

You could have at least gotten into Ravenclaw. Much more elegant. Don't let the Gryffindors rub off on you. 

Love, Mother

Okay. That wasn't particularly awful. Although I couldn't help the hot, prickly feeling of shame creeping up to my chest at the word "disappointed." I hated causing disappointment to anyone, mother and father especially. 

Now I had teachers to impress too. The last thing I needed was a friend, but it seemed Hermione Granger was incapable of reading minds, because she pushed her book closer to me and sat down.

"Hello."

"Good morning, Granger."

"Have you finished the potions essay yet?"

"Last night I did, yes." I was confused as to why she was questioning me. Hermione Granger never asked for help on anything, never mind schoolwork.

"Just curious," she offered, obviously reading the look on my face.

"Curiosity is not a very redeeming trait," I said sternly, quoting mother.

"And why is that?" She asked, puzzled. I laughed scornfully.

"Curiosity is not something ladies should worry themselves with. It's unnecessary, and, quite frankly, dangerous." 

"All curiosity, dangerous? Even for schooling?" She plowed on. Hermione Granger needed some sense shaken into her. 

"Yes. Just learn, don't ask. It's... unbecoming." 

"Hm. Unbecoming," she muttered, and turned away, scooting back over to her previous spot on the bench. Good. It's not like I wanted her here in the first place anyways. What a waste of my breath it was, fraternizing with that girl. 

From across the table, a boy's voice called out, "Hey, look! Neville's got a Remembrall!" 

I looked over to see a round boy holding a clear ball with golden outlining. It was quite pretty, I thought, when it hit the sunlight just right. My mind trailed to Harry's eyes again, and I scoffed at myself. It made no sense.