Normality
I groaned in sheer annoyance at professor McGonagall's shouting demands ringing deaf in my ears, rolling my eyes in each response. Today I believed would be an easy, blissful day at this castle. When was it even a peaceful day for me, ever? When did I ever have a pleasant class? When was the last time shit didn't begin with a plain good morning, a hi, how are you? Bullshit. Downright bullshit. I was staring directly into professor McGonagall's stern gaze, unfazed – like I usually was, which never helped the case or the professors' nerve system. Professor was furious, beyond recognition, as her eyes twitched and her nostrils flared like a bull seeing red, her entire body discreetly shaking with barely contained anger. And, in this case, I was the red flag waving provocatively at her. Maybe it was because I was too stubborn, too proud for my own good that every situation ended like that. Maybe it was because I had the nerves and guts to stand my ground to the point of crossing the line. I held my cat, Leo, a black, medium sized feline that had emerald orbs and pointy ears, his tail wagging like crazy, pupils dilated as if ready to launch out of my arms and into professor McGonagall's sharp, ancient looking face.
"Detention, Miss Knight!"
"Why? For bringing my cat in class? Aren't you a cat, professor?"
"Miss Knight," professor began, her voice defeated and but a stiff exhale of breathless words, "Your father would be proud of you for speaking up for yourself, but sometimes it is better to stay quiet. Detention for a week." She finished her sentence, her voice thick with authority and silent jurisdiction. My jaw clenched, a shiver of defiance running down my spine like I had been showered with icy, frigid water, feeling like a stunned iceberg refusing to melt. I clicked my tongue over my teeth inside my mouth, trying to restrain any words that threatened to slip from my witty mouth. It wouldn't make anything better or easier right now, I already had one whole week to spend on detention, my smart remarks wouldn't help.
As the lesson drew on and professor McGonagall dragged on with the lesson, my mind kept wandering back to her words: "Your father would be proud of you for speaking up for yourself, but sometimes it is better to stay quiet." Does it? Does being quiet ever answers stronger than talking back? The answer is no, it never does, it never did for me at least. I played with my quill over my fingers, spinning the soft feather around mindlessly, trying to distract myself with anything apart from speaking further. Was this an exaggeration? Yes, maybe it was. Maybe, just maybe, there would come a day where I would finally control my mouth, hold back myself and be able to be normal, to be measured and mature. To finally find the peace I always seek at any place I passed by. Which, if you ask me, is but an utopic dream.
When the doorbell rang, signalling classes were over, I was the first to stand up and exit. My footsteps hurried and fast, as if hunted by millions of Dementors, desperate to earn back any dignity left from my prior uproar. My hands were clinging on Leo, who was comfortably resting on my chest, his nails dug into my shoulders as he clung into my Slytherin jumper for dear life. He was noiseless, which was unusual for him, he was such a lively, energetic cat, filled with life itself, always up to something– just as I was. A bit too similar to myself, as pets always adopted their owners personalities a bit too much for their own good. It was like a cat, as dear as him, could sense my inner turmoil, ready to snap and dismantle anything past me. Despite the obvious rage shimmering over the surface of my still, porcelain face, my ears perked up over some booming yells and shouts over the corner, from the end of the corridor. My curiosity, ever present, peeked and I urgently hid behind a stone pillar at the side of the hallway, concealing myself out of sight. With wide eyes peeking towards the end of the hall, where a professor's ringing shouts were directed to a student, I still was unable to catch with my eyes who was getting yelled at.
"Mister Nott, this behaviour is utterly unacceptable! For a bright man your age I am highly disappointed in you!" professor Snape's vociferous tone echoed throughout the entire hall, my eardrums crashing, wrinkling my nose, upper lip raised and my eyes narrowing at the intensity of his voice. I gulped hard, barely able to understand the words flying out of professor Snape's harsh windpipe. I did hear a word, more like two: Mister Nott. Theodore Nott. The well known, down to earth Theodore Nott that always stayed out of trouble and kept to himself? What could this boy, an angel amongst other cunning, scheming Slytherins have done? My interest rose to it's high, biting down on my bottom lip, nibbling it inside my mouth as I tried to remain hidden, finding it incredibly hard to contain my nosiness of other people's business.
"Do you not have anything to say for yourself? You seemed pretty verbal and violent just a moment ago!" professor Snape asked loudly, his piercing voice jumping up and down each wall and directly to any intrigued student passing by, some stopping to witness the sight. I peeked my whole head out behind the pillar, my fingers still clinging to Leo over my chest tightly, making the kitty purr. His eyes, too, curiously watching the scene before us. I tilted my head to the side, eyes curious and catching any movements where professor Snape stood, hiding Theodore from my eyes. I tiptoed as high as I could, the intrigued students crowding my sight. Only then, after his words escaped his mouth, did professor Snape take a step away from Theodore, finally able to catch a glimpse of the still stunned silent boy.
Theodore stood tall, his back leaned on the brick wall behind him and remained typically mute, his height towering over professor Snape, as he was strangely taller than any boy our age– some professors included. I gulped harder than before, my saliva slithering down my suddenly dry throat, my neck bumping up and down at the nervous motion. My eyes searched between the bustling corridor where many students decided to whisper amongst themselves about Theodore getting a yelling from professor Snape. Which was a rare gem, odder than seeing a Hippogriff attending classes. I stood still, afraid anyone would catch a sight of me, as if that even mattered to anyone.
"Professor," Theodore started, his voice monotone and robotic despite whatever had gone on between them, "I did what anyone would in this situation–" "Hexing a student is never the solution," professor Snape hissed under his breath, his eyes spitting blazing fire as he glared up with narrowed eyes at Theodore, who didn't seem not a bit fazed. "Detention. One week. Starting tonight," professor Snape exclaimed with a monotone voice that carried a sense of threat, his expression back to it's normal state: calm, composed and stern, his powered words making Theodore's jaw clench incredibly tight, his nostrils flaring with barely contained emotions and words. With that, Snape span around, his silky black robes slithering through the floor with an air of authority, passing by the curious students as if he wasn't shouting directly in Theodore's face seconds ago.
Then, I realised: One week detention. I also had one week detention. Meaning both Theodore and I were caged into detention. Detention. Just the two of us, when we barely had ever interacted or spoken. This would be interesting. I thought to myself, pushing my weight behind the stone pillar and making my way with easy, confident strides back to my dorm room, the opposite side where Theodore stood unspeaking. It was like the chasm we had kept so dearly present was slowly falling to crumbs. But that was too soon for me to even consider it.