How Can a Castle Feel so Small?
“Oi, Fawley!” Sirius Black runs up beside me.
I try ignoring him but he just pulls on the sleeve of my robe.
“What?” I snap, stopping just short of the Great Hall’s doors.
He lets go of my sleeve and runs his hand through his hair.
“I um- McGonagall told me I should apologize to you,” he says.
I roll my eyes.
“Do you honestly think what you just did is apologize?” I laugh and walk into the Great Hall, hoping he doesn’t follow me. I don’t need half-apologies from an actual stuck up prat.
“Miss Connie Fawley!” Sirius Black has lost his mind. He is standing on the Gryffindor table. “I am truly sorry for my words, and hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me?”
He gives a stupid little bow and looks at me with a smile on his face.
I feel eyes staring.
So I flee again. With how much I have been running away as of late, I may as well be an honorary Hufflepuff.
“Wait! Connie!” He's chasing after me again. This time, I duck behind a coat of arms in an alcove and remain silent until he runs past.
Then I beeline it to my room.
Frog brains, I didn’t eat dinner.
I brave the common room and am relieved to find Eleanor seated at her usual table. It may as well have her name etched into it.
Knowing her, it does.
“Connie, alright?” she asks. I don’t usually bother her outside of our lessons.
“Is there a way to eat without going to the Great Hall?” I look down, suddenly fascinated by a thread clinging to my jumper.
“What happened?”
I meet her gaze and shake my head.
“Fine. Follow me.” She stands up and closes the book in front of her.
Then we are leaving the common room. It wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for, but I relax when she doesn’t take us towards the stairs.
We stop in front of a portrait depicting a rather boring bowl of fruit.
“Tickle the pear,” she instructs.
I do. The portrait swings open and we are standing in the Hogwarts kitchens.
Where dozens of small leathery creatures are working.
“What are they?” I ask, sidestepping one that is scrubbing the floor.
“House elves. You didn’t think the food appeared out of thin air did you?”
No, I suppose not.
“Students aren’t normally allowed in the kitchen. Bosky!” Eleanor exclaims.
A house elf turns and practically sprints towards us.
“Mistress,” he curtsies.
“Bosky, this is Connie. She is my friend and she needs dinner,” Eleanor explains to an already nodding Bosky. He pulls on my wrist and I follow him to a low wooden bench.
“Mistress can ask for anything. Bosky will make it,” Bosky smiles.
To be honest it is an unnerving face to look at. Eleanor said I was her friend.
“Could I just have a bit of pot pie and a cup of tea, please?” I ask.
Bosky nods and runs away.
“Bosky’s mother works for my family.” Eleanor sits down next to me. “So what really happened? To stop you from eating in the Great Hall?”
“Sirius Black made a scene attempting to apologize to me. It was horrid,” I explain.
“Apologize for what?”
“He said something rude to me in class. Something untrue. About my family.”
“You never talk about them,” Eleanor prompts. It is true. Eleanor has told me about her family. She has five sisters. All older. All beautiful. And her parents are both alive.
“I never knew them,” I explain.
Bosky reappears with a hot plate of chicken pot pie and a perfectly prepared cup of tea.
“Eat here, now. Anything you need, Bosky is happy to serve,” he says.
“Thank you Bosky,” Eleanor offers a rare smile.
He scampers off and I dig into my food, grateful for a reason not to explain further.
“You don’t have to say anything, but just nod if you want me to shave Black’s head.”
I snort into my tea and at the mental image.
“Completely unnecessary. Something tells me he wouldn’t care. McGonagall gave him detention anyway.”
“She did?” Eleanor sounds almost surprised.
I just nod into my dinner.
When I am done, she walks back with me and offers to show me a spell she learned in charms class to create fire.
I let her burn both the first draft of my Transfiguration essay and one of my socks.
“Stamp it out? I’m barefoot!” I exclaim as the sock lights the rug on fire. “You’re a witch! Use magic!” I look around for a blanket I can use to smother the fire in case it grows any bigger.
“Oh, right! Aguamenti!” she points her wand at the burning pile and water comes from the end.
I laugh as smoke rises up towards the stone ceiling.
We’ve attracted a lot of attention. I go quiet as a tall blonde boy with sharp features walks over to us, glaring at Eleanor.
“You’ve ruined a priceless antique rug with your incompetence. Five points from Slytherin,” he says smugly.
“Oh piss off, Malfoy. It was an accident,” Eleanor explains. “And if anything, the rug looks better than it did.”
I stifle a laugh, not wanting to lose us any more points.
“Watch your tongue when speaking to me. Clean it up,” he snaps, turning on his heel.
Eleanor lets out a loud huff but bends down to look at the damages to the rug.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“Lucius Malfoy. He’s a Prefect. And a twit. One of the Sacred 28. Although, I suppose you are part of the same horde. Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”
The Sacred 28. A way for the elite to maintain a hold on the magical world.
Eleanor uses a cleaning spell to clear the ashes of the sock from the rug, but there is still a deep black stain on the rug.
“I agree that it looks better,” I say, smiling at the now completely obliterated image of a troll fighting a group of werewolves. It was a tad bit gruesome for a school rug.
She laughs and tells me she is going to go off to her room to avoid running into Malfoy again.
So I pick up my bag and walk to my room, ignoring Valeria and Patricia’s catty comments about some Ravenclaw in our Herbology class.