Chapter 2: More About Me (And A Little About Iola)
It is my detention with Iola in a few minutes, and I am being swamped with advice on how to handle it if anything goes wrong, as we sit in the Common Room finishing off essays. Missy is sitting contentedly on my lap, chewing a quill. She’s so sweet.
“If she says something weird, just ignore her,” I am told by Eve.
“Unless you think of something good to say back,” Ophelia adds.
“Or just whack her one,” Valerie says, as if this would be a perfectly acceptable thing to do while I’m in detention.
“And be careful of any ... suspicious behaviour,” Eve tells me, seemingly ignoring the other two.
“Everything she does is suspicious,” Ophelia scoffs. “One time, I walked in the door, and she was hanging teddy bears by their necks, all around her bed. When she saw me, she said something weird, like wagga shmacka doodle.”
This is probably completely untrue. But it makes us shiver all the same. Except for Valerie, who is more than a little sceptic.
“Whatever, ferret-face.” This is the kind of comment that I don’t like about Valerie. She knows how paranoid Ophelia gets about her looks (I blame the sister), and I see her eyes look hurt. But Valerie hasn’t noticed. “Hey, Lily, you couldn’t check over this Potions essay for me, could you? Old Slughorn is constantly on my back these days, I don’t want him to go all“” she pulls an insane psychopath face, ““on me.” The reason Professor Slughorn is always ‘on her back’, is because she spends entire lessons talking to Eve, and only occasionally glances at the instructions on the black board. He’s nice to me, though. I’m even in his ‘Slug club’, because I’m quite good at Potions. That and Charms are my best subjects. I check the essay over anyway, and point out a couple of mistakes. Suddenly, I look up and see the time.
“Oh, shoot, I’ve gotta go. See you guys later. If I’m not back after eleven don’t wait up for me “ I don’t know how long this will take.” I pick Missy up and place her on the ground so she can go mouse hunting or something. “Don’t pick a fight with Mrs Norris, okay, Missy?” I warn her, stroking her adorable little head. She looks up at me innocently, but I haven’t forgotten how she nearly lost an eye a week ago. With that final request, I begin to run out of the Common Room.
“Keep on your toes!” I hear Ophelia call after me. I run down towards the Transfiguration corridor, and bump into Iola on the way, who is ambling slowly. Something makes me stop and walk with her.
“We’ll be late,” I say, checking my watch.
“So? It’ll be funny. You go ahead and run forward if you like, but you seem pretty tired out,” she says, still meandering slowly along. “Not been working out lately?” I ignore her, but something makes me stay with her. I tell myself it’s not her, or the need to wind teachers up. I’m just out of breath, that’s all.
She has long, sleek black hair. Unlike her cousin’s, it knows how to stay still “ his is always untidy, and he likes it that way “ and she has grey-ish green eyes, which she rims heavily with black. I know that she is an amazing sketcher, because she pins up her drawings all around her section of the Dorm. They are mostly of flowers, but unlike the ones Eve is known for, these are dark, and almost tragic. She also draws them to decorate poetry she writes and pins up. If there’s no one about, I go over and read it. It’s mostly pretty depressing stuff, about unrequited love of a boy with grey eyes and a wicked grin that’s never for her. I always thought she made this person up, but now, as we walk in silence, I wonder if it could be about someone real. I’m curious, but not enough to ask. Not that I would if I was curious enough. That would be unheard of, and I’d only get a bitter remark for my troubles.
We reach McGonagall’s classroom ten minutes late. She looks angry.
“Sorry Professor,” I say and Iola rolls her eyes next to me. Yeesh. I’m so sorry that I don’t fancy two detentions in a row.
“That’s all right, Evans. Now, you are serving your detention with Hagrid in the forest today, he said he needed assistance, and I had no task to give you. Follow me down to the edge, if you please.”
Iola looks delighted. I look terrified, I’m sure. Hagrid is the game keeper, and he’s huge, and hairy. Ophelia once told me that he eats kittens. But Ophelia tells me lots of things, and I rarely believe them. Like her comment about Iola hanging teddies earlier. She does it for attention, really. But it’s not her fault “ like I’ve said, she’s always been shadowed by her sister. But anyway, even though I know that Hagrid is probably harmless, he still scares me sometimes. But I know that Iola likes him “ I’ve even seen her go into his house before.
We reach the edge of the forest, and he is waiting for us. “Yer late,” he says gruffly. His eyes crinkle with a smile when he sees Iola. “’Ello! Oh, I shoulda known it wa’ you.” He looks a lot less terrifying when he’s smiling.
“What do we need to go into the forest for, Hagrid?” she asks. McGonagall frowns at the good terms these two are on, probably regretting her choice. Then take it back! I mentally scream at her, but she doesn’t notice. Obviously. I mean, if she could hear my thoughts it would just prove all the she’s-more-than-human theories that my tragic, deprived mind thinks up to while away those long Transfiguration hours.
“Well,” Hagrid begins, “there’s this centaur, see, an’ ’e’s bein’ a bit of a bother ter the others. Bullying ’em an’ that. Yer don’t usually get violent ones, but ... Well, I need ter tek him away from the heard fer a while. An’ I can always use a helping hand.”
“But why go in the dark, Hagrid?” Iola asks, as we walk into the forest. McGonagall leaves us, despite my technically non-existent protests. Iola seems perfectly at ease with the surroundings, her question out of curiosity rather than fear. She has most likely been in here before. The word “Forbidden” probably means nothing to her and the Marauders. I have stopped listening to their conversation. Instead, panic has gripped me. So much so, that I am white, and my hands are shaking. Centaurs are half horse. Horses are bad enough. But violent horses ...
When I was little, about six, I used to ride all the time. But one day, something startled my beloved Trix, and she threw me forward, over her head onto the ground, and then leaped over the top of me, and galloped away. I was lucky not to break my neck. Instead, it was my left arm and leg, and they took weeks to heal. I shouldn’t have let it faze me; I should have got straight back on her as soon as I was able. But I kept seeing her leap over the top of me in my mind, hearing her gallop away and leaving me there. And my fear grew and grew until now the sound of hooves can set my heart beating faster, and if I see one I ball my fists up until the nails nearly draw blood. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, ‘But you’re in Gryffindor, you should be brave, and heroic, and valiant, and some kind of Super Girl without fear!’ Well, maybe that’s true, maybe I am a bad Gryffindor, and really, I should be made of some kind of impenetrable steel. Maybe I should just grit my teeth, stop being such a sissy, and laugh in the face of my fear. But this is the real world, and we all have weaknesses.
I mean, I am brave, normally. I find spiders sweet, think bats are pretty cool, and I feel more comfortable in pitch black. Missy’s claws don’t terrify me, I don’t mind getting my hand’s dirty, and I can hold my own in an argument. But the horse thing? I just can’t do it. It’s not as if I have nightmares about them or anything, I just can’t be near one without freaking out.
But enough trying to justify myself. I follow Hagrid and Iola, getting more worried by the second, my ears straining to hear the sound that I’m so desperately afraid of. Then, suddenly, after half an hour of walking, it’s there. I hear it before they do, but as it gets louder they both stop. There is a yell as well, and it sounds as if there is fighting.
“Oh, I ‘oped this wouldn’t happen ...” Hagrid moaned, as he begins to run. Iola is at his side, and I have no choice but to follow. We turn a corner into a clearing. Two are fighting there. One is large, a black body with dark hair that sets my heart drumming through my chest, and with a large torso with scars all over it. This is the violent one, I’m sure. The other has a pale, creamy body, it is smaller, and weaker. “OI!” Hagrid yells, to no avail. I step back, I cannot keep my eyes off the two creatures. I am shaking violently. “STOP!” Hagrid yells, pulling on the big black one. He holds him off long enough for the other to get a safe distance, and Iola goes over to him, checking him for wounds.
I should be there with her, helping, not standing here uselessly. I watch as Hagrid loses his grip on the violent black centaur, and it comes galloping towards me. I see his face; angry, furious, and I scream. I hear them yelling at me to move out of the way, but I can do nothing. He runs into me, but I land on some long grasses, and I know I am not hurt.
“Make sure Hallead’s okay, and go back ter the castle!” Hagrid cries, as he tears away after him. Hallead must be the creamy coloured one.
“Are you all right?” Iola asks, coming over to me, and extending a hand. I take it, still shaking.
“Yes. I ... I don’t like horses,” I say, lamely. She raises an eyebrow.
“We,” the centaur says, affronted, “are not horses.”
“She knows that,” Iola covers for me quickly, turning to look at him. “Are you seriously hurt?” she asks.
He sighs, “Only my pride. I should have foreseen this ...”
Iola makes a noise of contempt. Obviously, she is not a strong believer in Divination. Neither am I. The fact that we have this in common feels strange, considering we are so different. “Yes, well, do you mind if we leave you?”
“Not at all, my friends. I ... I suppose you should thank Hagrid, when you see him.” With that, he turns and blends back into the forest. The sound of his hooves makes me start shaking again. Iola notices this.
“You really don’t like them do you?” she asks. As we begin to walk, I feel the need to explain. I find myself telling her about my fall, ten years ago. She listens. Eventually, she says, “But they’re not all bad. Like Hallead back there. He may be a bit of a pretentious sissy-girl, but he wouldn’t hurt you.”
“I know that. And it was an accident then “ Trix, my horse, she was never violent. Something startled her, that’s all. In fact, she came back. She came back and stood near me until I was found. At least, that’s what I’m told. I passed out after a minute or two.”
“Yet you’ve been terrified ever since?”
“It’s stupid, I know.”
She looks up at me with her heavily rimmed eyes. “It’s not stupid, Lily.” It sounds weird to hear her say my name like that. She has always been the weirdo, but now ... now, she seems so normal.
Thrown, I ask, “So what are you afraid of?”
“Me?” Her face clouds, and she says, quietly, “Going home.”
I stop in my tracks. Going home? I hadn’t been expecting that. I quickly begin to carry on forwards towards the castle. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. Let’s just get back.”
I wonder what happened “ just a moment ago, things had been fine. We had been walking along and chatting, as if ... as if we were friends. But we’re not. We never have been, Lily, you know that. Don’t meddle in things you don’t understand. The voice sounds like my mother. She always tells me not to meddle. I always ignore her. Why should now be different?
As we reach the castle, and make our way towards Gryffindor Tower, I wonder how I can find out what’s so bad about her home life. If I knew, I could help. Who would know?
James. James would know. Do I really want to know so much, that I will willingly speak to him? We, uh, have a bad history, you see. I didn’t date him or anything “ Merlin, no “ but ... Well, that’s for another time. The answer to my own question, however, is yes. In that case, tomorrow I will go and find him. I can do it.
Just as we are about to enter the Dorm, I say, quickly, without even thinking about it, “I like your poems.”
She looks at me, and smiles the briefest smile.
AN: So, what did you think? Please leave a review! This fic is soon littered with minor cliffies at the end of a lot of chapters (I’ve completed seven, because I write a lot faster than it’s possible to update). So, be warned!