𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒 | Moral choice. Nothing is properly considered either good, or bad, aside from those things that are within our own power to control, and the only thing fully in our power to control is our own volition.
Esmerelda's attempts of...
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▬▬▬▬▬ CHAPTER THREE ▬▬▬▬▬
IT WAS OCTOBER NOW AND Esmerelda knew she had made the wise choice of ditching Lockhart's lessons every day. Her fellow Hufflepuffs found it irresponsible, but thankfully nobody bothered to tattle to Professor Sprout about it.
In addition to that, while her classmates were learning about how much Lockhart loved himself, she was actually learning useful things like the Freezing Charm (which she had perfected), the Blindfolding Spell, the Packing Charm (good for last-minute packing!), and Flagrate which works as a magical marker (good for writing runes!).
There were other spells she learned too, like the Disarming Charm. The only problem was that she couldn't practice it since she had no one else with her. At the moment she was trying to perfect the Shielding Charm—Protego. It was hard because she had to focus on levitating various objects to throw at her while also focusing on keeping her shield up.
The Shielding Charm was currently her favorite spell. The books stated that it could block spells and other physical objects, but it also made a very good umbrella! Esmerelda had realized this one rainy day while she was trying to cross the open courtyard. She held her wand like one would hold an umbrella while the pointed tip was aimed upwards where the invisible shield hovered.
"Oh curse youuuu!" A familiar voice howled. She snapped her head towards the enraged voice, spotting Sir Nick glaring angrily at an opened letter.
Careful of the mud and watery grass, Esmerelda walked out of the courtyard and stepped into the roofed corridor. "What's wrong?" She asked curiously.
He lifted up his letter miserably, glaring at it as if it was the source of all of his problems. "It's from the Headless Hunt."
She sighed. For some odd reason, Sir Nick was obsessed with trying to join the Headless Hunt. She didn't get what the point of it was. Did joining the group give you certain privileges? Or was it just a clique thing? She honestly had no clue.
"Why would you want to join them?" She wondered aloud. "Their leader's mean anyways..." And it was true. She had met Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore a couple of times and he acted pretty stuck-up every time she saw him.
"I do not want to join," he grumbled in denial. "I was just... trying it out on a whim. But anyways, they sent me this letter after I applied..."
She took it from him and began to read aloud: "'We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted company with their bodies. You will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise for members to participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head-Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, therefore, that I must inform you that you do not fulfill our requirements. With very best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore.'"
Awkwardly, she folded the letter and handed it back to him. "Well, at least he rejected you nicely?"
"Forget nice!" He exasperated, looking disgruntled. "You would think that getting hit by an axe forty-five times to the neck would be good enough!"
