I must have sat there for a full hour before I managed to pull myself up from the ground. My legs felt like rubber and my hands were shaking. A set of beautiful double doors was to my left, and I could hear cheerful voices from inside. That must have been the Great Hall. Mother and Father had told me about it. Thinking of Mother and Father brought more tears to my eyes, but at least I wasn’t sobbing anymore.
I couldn’t go in there. The staff would just look down on me for being a squib, and I wasn’t really hungry anyway. My eyes wandered to the gaping entrance to my rooms. My trunk was still floating next to it. Mother always hated when I left trunks out. “If you want to live like a street rat,” she would say, glaring at my trunks and clothes left around the room, “go out in the street and throw your belongings around there. If not, ring for a house elf and don’t let me see this mess again.”
I would nod and yell for our house elf, Willable. He would come and put my trunk away and mother would smile at me and usually take me out for tea. But Willable was at home and I was here. How did one unpack? Would I be forced to take my clothes out of the trunk and put them in those awful drawers?
It wasn’t something I wanted to think about, but I couldn’t leave it in the entranceway all night. I didn’t know how to alert the house elves. Walking shakily over to the trunk I gave it a tremendous push. It collapsed to the floor, spilling my robes everywhere, but I was not to be bothered. As I walked out of the room, drowsiness seemed to overtake me at every step. The Entrance Hall was beginning to spin around me. I grabbed onto the banister of the staircase for support, pulling myself hand over hand until I reached the first stair. I could barely see the marble reappear in the doorway as I spread myself over the step.
I was asleep before my head hit the marble.
*
The next two weeks seemed to drag on as slowly as the snail that was making its way across my sitting room floor. During the first few days I would hop out of bed, put on a nice pair of dress robes, and make my way down to breakfast.
But the company was dry at best. Professor McGonagall was rarely around. A couple of professors would occasionally drop in, but even they seemed hesitant to stay and chat as I ate burnt toast. What happened to the mouth-watering descriptions of feasts Mother and Father had told me about?
That, at least, somebody explained to me. Professor Slughorn reminded me of a walrus I had once seen a picture of, with his bulk taking up a good part of the staff table. But he was willing enough to talk to me, something that after days of silence I would have befriended the giant squid for doing.
“You see, my girl,” he said as he helped himself to a box of pineapple he had brought with him, “the elves are quite busy, eh? Cleaning the dorms and such. Wasteful to make a feast when only a few eat. It’s best to supply your own,” he added, eying the toast and marmalade I had been provided with this morning.
It didn’t seem the house elves would be so busy, considering I was doing most of the cleaning, but I didn’t bring that up with Professor Slughorn.
Mr. Filch would be waiting outside the door when I was finished trying not to gag on the bread. (We used only the finest white bread at home, but this was brown!) With a grunt he would shove a suitcase I had discovered to be full of cleaning supplies into my arms and limp off, cursing under his breath about idiot kids. I would scurry after him, afraid to be left alone in the dark and dreary looking castle. Though some of the spider webs were gone after a day’s worth of my scrubbing the staircase until it gleamed, the Entrance Hall still frightened me.
Mr. Filch would finally stop after what seemed like an endless amount of stairs and turns and tell me what to do. Wash the floors. Dust every bit of armor twice, and don’t forget the insides too. Scrub every miniscule bit of dirt and dust off of that wall, and then do the ceiling. It was like I was Cinderella from the Muggle fairy tale. I soon felt a loathing for the man that I had never felt for anyone else. As I scrubbed my hands raw he would be bent over some paperwork, occasionally dusting a single trophy. What right did he have, making me do this work while he sat at the front of the classroom or at the top of the stairs and relaxed?
More and more I longed for my Mother and Father. Without Mother to reprimand me my living quarters stayed dismally dark and dusty, though the castle they were contained in was beginning to gleam. I felt no pride in my work, however. All I could think about was what Mother would do, what Father would say. They would never approve of their daughter, their Cassandra, being treated like a servant! It was an outrage, a scandal just waiting to be exposed by the Daily Prophet. Somebody was usually reading the newspaper at breakfast, and the hope that the headline would soon read ‘Hogwarts School Exposed- Cassandra Pralent, of the Pralent Legacy, Treated as Slave’ was all that kept me going through those horrible two weeks.
Around noon Mr. Filch would grunt in my direction, and then toss me some sort of overripe fruit- usually a banana, with brown splotches on its yellow skin. I had used to love bananas, but I soon hated them because they were associated with that horrible man who was keeping me from my parents.
I didn’t hear anymore about my lack of magic, my being a squib, but I could see the dislike in the faces of the staff at dinner when I had finally finished the allotted slave work. Dinner was a much larger affair than breakfast was, especially as we drew nearer to the start of term. Most of the teachers were there, as well as a few witches and wizards I didn’t recognize. They talked amongst themselves and ignored me for the most part, but occasionally they would glance in my direction and then hurriedly turn back to their conversations while I caught words like ‘squib’ and ‘parents.’
I always sat at the end of the long table. Professor Slughorn had explained that it was not always there, and that during term the teachers sat at a staff table while the different houses ate with their peers. I didn’t know where I would eat then. Professor McGonagall, when she was there, was always glancing at me, then at Mr. Filch, then back at me again. There were bags under her eyes, and she looked older than usual as she talked, almost weary.
I met a few other professors. The transfiguration teacher, Professor Marchbanks, stared at me for a long time even after I introduced myself to her. She was a small, elderly woman, and my first instinct was to be kind and gentle with her, but she was watching me so severely I was almost glad not to be taking her class. Professor Hagrid was such a big man I could only stare at him the way people had been staring at me. He chuckled and patted the top of my head as he said, “You’ll ‘ave to come down and ‘ave a cuppa tea, Miss Pralent.” That might have been the only time I had smiled in the whole two weeks.
But as horrible as it was to be stared at professors, grunted at by Mr. Filch, and worked like a house elf, I was cheered up by the prospect of the students arriving. Dozens of children my own age to talk to and play with! After two weeks of old witches and wizards for company, the thought of other children allowed me to have sweet dreams of my Mother and Father as I lay in my still disgusting rooms on the night of August 31. The day before the students were due to arrive.
*
I woke up early on September 1. At long last, I would get to make friends! I could show them all the secret passageways Mr. Filch had forced me to scrub the entranceway to, and we could have tea parties in my rooms! Mother always loved to help me throw tea parties. Best of all, the start of term might bring a letter from Mother and Father. I had heard nothing from them in the entire two weeks.
As I jumped out of bed, carefully avoiding all sorts of bugs, I rummaged through my trunk to find the perfect outfit for the day. Floaty blue dress robes? No, too summery. White lacey robes? I would still spend the day cleaning.
I tore the trunk apart until I reached the bottom. There lay dark green velvet robes with a fur collar and lacy sleeves. Perfect. Tying my hair into lopsided braids (I never could get them as straight as Mother could) and pulling on Mary-Jane shoes with lacy white socks, I pressed against the cold marble entrance and practically skipped into the Great Hall.
I flew through my work that day. Most of it was just little finishing touches- a dust here, a quick scrubbing there, and poof! A sparkling castle, looking much more cheerful than it had for the past two weeks. Even Mr. Filch couldn’t find anything to complain about.
Tension was high that day as we got ready to go. The Great Hall had four house tables set up, with a staff table at the front. All the pictures were on their best behavior, and the few ghosts I had glanced around the castle seemed excited. The staff and I were gathered in the Great Hall, waiting. Professor McGonagall had on the same robes she had worn when she had come to see me at home. I felt a pang just looking at them. Professor Slughorn was eating a particularly large box of pineapple as Professor Marchbanks entered the Hall, looking frazzled.
“The train has been spotted!” She called. Her hat was crooked and was slipping over one eye as Professor McGonagall nodded.
“Staff,” she barked, “the boats should be arriving in twenty minutes. Griselda, go get ready to greet the first years. Filch, the trunks!” Mr. Filch grunted and nodded, limping towards a back room off of the Hall. Professor Marchbanks turned to leave the hall, and I made to follow Mr. Filch. I was, after all, his assistant.
“Wait, Miss Pralent,” called Professor McGonagall. I stopped, my shoes squeaking on the polished floor. The professor nodded at me. “Go with Professor Marchbanks.” I thought I could detect a hint of a smile on her face. “Mr. Filch can get the trunks.”
My face broke into a smile. I turned on my heels and raced after Professor Marchbanks with my braids flying behind me. She was waiting at the door, frowning slightly. “Come along, Miss Pralent.” I followed her into the Entrance Hall, anticipation growing with every step.
Professor Marchbanks moved toward the doors with me following behind her like a shadow. I could hear the rain beating down outside like a drum, and I couldn’t help but wonder how horrible the journey must have been. With a swish of Professor Marchbanks' wand the doors flew open to reveal the first year students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Late Bloomer by Just Tink
Chapter Notes: I don't own Harry Potter. Sorry for the wait, and thanks for potterphile12 for betaing!