I always thought that the Hogwarts way of doing feasts was very different from the way we ate dinner at home. You see, at my house, whenever we have family over or we go to some other strange relative’s house we always have to wait forever. I honestly think that the adults do it on purpose, just to teach us “young ones” patience. The first thing they do is make you carry the delicious, hot and buttery food into the dining room where you can view all the other delicious hot buttery foods. You are forced to stare at them but are unable to eat them. Than you must wait until every single person in the house finishes their conversation and sits down. This usually takes forever.
Petunia is always one of the last people to sit down because she is trying to prove to everyone that she is not like her irresponsible sister”that would be me”who sits staring at the food in an uncivilized way the moment it reaches the table.
You then have to wait for someone to say the toast. Grandpa proposes it, with a hopeful look on his face. And someone says kindly, “Why don’t you say it?” He refuses, but still looks hopeful, until someone finally insists that he dodoes it, even though he pretends he doesn’t want to. This process usually takes a whole five precious minutes of staring at delicious food. Grandpa does this every single time we get together and still thinks that no one has caught on to his ingenious tactic.
Then after I have finally clinked glasses with every other person in the room, I have to wait some more. I have to wait because there is another stupid rule in our family about letting the person who cooked the meal have the first bite. That same person pretends like they don’t know that everyone is waiting, and starts a long conversation with whomever is next to her before finally saying in a very unsurprised voice, “Oh, were you all waiting for me?” That person pretends to be horrified, even though I know they are relishing the moment, and slowly and dramatically finally takes a bite. Then, I can eat.
But at Hogwarts it’s not like that. Instead, they just make you think and imagine the food while waiting for the stupid munchkins to be sorted into their stupid houses. This way is much worse, because you have to imagine everything. I have a very vivid imagination and by the time the stupid sorting process is finished, I am about ready to die. This is exactly what happened. I slouched, I grumbled, I glared at the innocent munchkins, I acted exactly how a Head Girl should not act. But do you know what the King of the Gorilla People does? He acts like the Goody-two-shoes that I have sworn to hate. He sits up straight, he pays close attention, he claps, he smiles, he gives the new First Years a pat on the back. And all the while I am slouching in my seat wishing that all of the First Years would jump off a cliff so I could just eat the delicious food I know is waiting for me.
Finally, Dumbledore says his nonsense words of the day, “buttery, sizzling, delicious, mouth-watering.” He looked right at me when he was saying, that as if he knew exactly what I had been thinking. Then finally the food appeared. I immediately piled food onto my plate. Clarissa sighed dramatically at me and grabbed a salad.
“Why do you eat those disgusting leaves anyway?” I said, pointing at her salad. I hate salad. It honestly is just a bunch of artificially dyed green leaves that they have decided to call food.
“Because it’s good, and I have decided to watch my weight.” I gaped at her. Watching her weight? Did anything sound more horrible and unsatisfactory as denying yourself the best things in life, such as chocolate, and sizzling, buttery, fattening food?
“That sounds horrible,” I said. She simply glared at me and grabbed some tomato soup. I shuddered, and took some of the more fattening and delicious food. Valerie was doing what I was doing, but Sybill was not. Sybill was just sitting there with her head held high.
“What are you doing?” I asked her, exasperated. Were all of my friends insane?
“I am fasting, to improve my Inner Sight.” I am resigned. My best friends are loonies and will have to live in the Crazy ward at St. Mungo’s. I will end up bringing them flowers while they wear those horrible nightgowns.
“The only thing starving yourself will do to your inner sight is make it extremely hungry,” I told her sternly while piling her plate with food. She glared at me and then grudgingly took up her fork.
I was just about to start a highly intellectually stimulating conversation when Potter walked up to our table and wriggled his abnormally large backside into the seat next to me.
“Hello, Lily Darling!” he said, with a hopeful look on his face.
Clarissa would have known what to do in this situation. She would have known how to make him leave. But I was not Clarissa. I simply took up my plate and walked to the other side of the table. I sat next to the munchkins.
“Hello, munchkins.” They all shirked away from me as if I was carrying some deadly Seventh Year disease.
To my dismay, Potter did not take the very obvious hint. He came and again sat next to me and the first year.
“Hello, everyone!” He smiled at all of the First Years. They smiled back at him. How come Potter doesn’t have the insane Seventh Year disease? Life is not fair.
“Go away.” I glared at him.
“As much as it pains me to distress you Lily Darling, I am unable to obey your request.”
Again, I walked off. I sat next to some pale-looking Fifth Year who looked like she wanted me to go away, too. Does everyone hate me?
“Hello, who are you?” I asked her. She glared at me before answering.
“Natasha.”
“Hello, Natasha, I’m Lily.” And just as our conversation was about to get especially interesting, Potter walked up.
I tried to imagine what Clarissa would say if she were me. Clarissa is very good at getting her way. Some people might just call it spoiled, but I think it’s a talent that for some reason I was not given. If I had been given that talent I would be given a lot more chocolate than I am currently. Clarissa could have gotten the chocolate if she wanted it. What would Clarissa do now?
“I hate you,” I told him. Fine, that was definitely not what Clarissa would say, but that was all I could think of.
I walked off angrily again. He followed me. I traded places again. He followed me. In a matter of minutes he was chasing me around the hall as I practically ran in my attempt to get away from him. I had just picked up a glass of pumpkin juice to fling at his head when I heard a shout behind me.
“EVANS! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?” Professor McGonagall looked at me furiously. “DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A PLAYGROUND TO YOU?” She screamed at me. “DETENTION! FOR BOTH OF YOU!”
McGonagall sat down and attempted to gain some composure. I flung the juice at Potter and went to sit down between Guinevere and Sybill. The King of The Gorilla People followed me.
After a very long meal full of me giving Potter the silent treatment, I was quite relieved to see my dorm. I immediately started jumping on my bed and than started leaping from my bed to Guinevere’s bed, which was right next to mine. I hopped around excitedly, squealing happily.
Guinevere and Clarissa walked into the room, talking about some new fashion that I really did not want to hear about, but they would probably tell me anyway.
“Lily, stop jumping on my bed!” Guinevere shouted, frustrated at me. But I saw that she was trying to hide a smile.
I continued to jump on her bed and watched as the sheets slowly began to slide off. Guinevere came over and yanked me onto the floor. I glared up at her; she smiled and began straightening her bed.
I began jumping on my own bed again and started doing all sorts of complicated and difficult flips. Valerie and Sybill walked into the room. Everyone started unpacking.
“Lily, do you think that maybe you should put your stuff away?” Clarissa asked me, gesturing to my trunk that was still sitting neglected by my bed.
“No,” I answered bluntly.
“But you will be all rushed in the morning and might not have time to even put on your make-up!” Clarissa said this as if she could imagine nothing worse than being unable to pack unnecessary powders and goop on yourself.
“But unpacking sounds so tedious and unnecessary.” Clarissa shook her head at me. I watched amused as everyone placed all of their possessions in their preordained spots.
I continued to jump, flip and squeal as they worked. I glared at my trunk. I didn’t like my trunk. It looked unhappy, probably because it wanted all of my junk to be taken out of it. Or it could have possibly had a bad home life as a baby trunk. Maybe its parents were mean to him. I’m sorry, trunk, I thought to it, but who could bother to unpack when she was as excited as I was?
My friends finally finished their perfecting and started putting their pajamas on.
“Lily! Get ready for bed!” Guinevere shouted at me.
“NO! I would have to open my trunk!” I yelled, horrified at the thought.
“Then open your trunk. It’s not that hard!” Guinevere said, looking up at me.
“But my trunk is sad!”
“How is your trunk sad?” Guinevere asked, apparently amused with my trunk’s depression.
“I don’t know. I think it had a life as a baby trunk. Don’t you think it looks sad?”
“No. I don’t. Now please get you pajamas on!” Guinevere looked as if she was trying to suppress giggles. I really don’t understand why she isn’t taking my trunk’s depression seriously.
“I told you, I don’t want to open my trunk!” Guinevere sighed dramatically and started toward my trunk. She opened it and glared at me.
“Lily, did you even consider folding your clothes, or putting your make-up in a box, or at least taking your candy wrappers out?”
“No,” I told her. “Why would I do that?” She sighed and started mumbling under her breath. Rummaging through my stuff, she finally pulled out a pair of pink plaid pajama pants and a white tank-top.
“Put them on.” She told me sternly. I sighed.
“Yes, Mum.” She glared at me, we started laughing and pretty soon everyone was in bed with the covers drawn up over their heads.
I waited under the blankets until I could hear deep breathing”and some snoring”from everyone. I quietly pulled back my covers and slowly crept towards the window. I decided that I was going to go on the roof. No, I am not going to jump off the roof. I am not a suicidal teenager. This is simply a place I discovered back when I was having a really bad day in second year. You see, if you stick your head straight out the window and look to the left, there is a ledge that leads to a flat area on the roof. I have gone there countless times to be by myself. No one else knows about it and I would prefer to keep it that way.
I carefully eased out of the window and maneuvered myself across the ledge and onto the flat area of roof that I have named Francois. Do not ask me why I named it Francois, I have no idea. I often do things completely weird and random like naming parts of buildings strange things like Francois.
I sat down on the piece of roof and looked out at the view. Out of all the beautiful places at Hogwarts, this was my favorite place. There was a beautiful view of the lake”sometimes I have stayed out for hours watching the foam come up from where the Giant Squid was”and you could see the sky. There was nothing blocking your view. This was also the place where I did my romance writing.
I shifted a brick that made up part of the roof and moved it aside. There was a slight cubby hole there, I had hidden countless stories and papers that I had written there. I never threw anything out. I still have stories that I wrote in first year in there.
A light drop of rain hit my cheek and slid down into my tank top. I reflected that maybe, just maybe, I should not be on the roof with a tank top, writing romances at ten o’clock at night when it was raining. But hey, whoever heard of being stopped by a little bit of rain?
Picking up a fresh piece of parchment and a quill, I started to write.
Golden light streamed down onto a grassy field. The sky was a pure, unforgettable blue, the clouds were puffy. Even the birds seemed cheerful. But the girl standing on the grass knew that this was not a cheerful place. She knew that the sky was an empty promise, that the clouds were not there to cheer her up, that even the birds’ sweet song was all a lie. For the clouds and sky and birds all hovered over the girl, as she sat in the dirt. Her white, frayed dress was stained with dirt, her long hair fell lifeless on her shoulders, the tears rolling down her cheeks seemed to be permanently engraved there. The girl did not like the happy sky and she thought that the birds mocked her. She slowly rocked back and forth, oblivious to everything, as she stared at the grave in front of her. She rocked faster and faster, her tears rolling down harder, her face becoming more desperate. The Earth seemed to sense her pain. The sky began to get gray and dark from storm clouds, the birds stopped singing and scrambled to find places to hide. Raindrops began to fall heavily, casting a cold blanket on the Earth. But the girl didn’t notice this. She simply stared at the grave, rocking faster and faster.
It was perfect, I reflected. It was a perfect start to my story. Dramatic, depressing, and completely my type of book.
Just as I was having these happy revelations, a sudden urge came over me. I wanted to dance on the roof.
No, I’m not joking.
The urge was so strong and powerful that I could no longer resist. I stood up and started twirling and spinning and jumping all over the place. It was wonderful. How many people get to say that they danced in their pajamas on the roof of Hogwarts? I am happy to say that I am one of the lucky few. The raindrops got harder until they were pounding down all over the surface. I sat down, gasping for breath. This is exactly the type of thing I like to do: writing overly dramatic love stories and jumping around on roofs at midnight. I placed the beginning of my story back into the cubby hole and placed the brick over it.
I stood up again. The debate started in me. The more sensible part of me said that I needed to go back inside immediately; it was dark, it was cold, and it was raining hard. The other more reckless part of me wanted to dance again, it wanted to spin in the rain and get my pajamas even more soaked than they already were. The struggle started. I debated with myself for a full minute before I couldn’t take it anymore. The temptation was too strong.
I started dancing on the roof. Again.
I can tell you right now that I am not a talented dancer. Most people wouldn’t even call it dancing. They would call it demented spinning. Sadly, they are right. I should have realized this before I started jumping on the roof. I should have realized that being clumsy, uncoordinated, and ungraceful, I probably shouldn’t be spinning on my roof. But unfortunately I did not realize this.
One moment I was twirling in the rain with my hands up and my head tilted back, and the next, my feet were flying out from under me and I had no control. I fell back and started tumbling into what I knew must be certain death.
I do not why I always get myself into situations like these. Everyone else seems to live these normal falling-from-roof free lives. But no, not me, I dance around in the rain writing secret romances and than fall off a roof and pray that I don’t die.
Dealing with the King of the Gorilla People seems like a dream come true compared to this.
Cinderella Was a Redhead by NeLLyRaE
Chapter Notes: hey guys! sorry for the wait, i have chapters up to 13 done. so if you review (hint hint) i'll update quickly!!!!