Partner up! It's Potions time! Closed

Sylvie Hawthorne
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Date: 3/Sep/2021 | Time: 09:00 | Mood: Excited | Location: Potions Classroom
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─────From somewhere near her, she heard a girl ask her friend, “Did you know the potions classroom is in the dungeons?!” and the resulting shrieks and laughter. It made Sylvie want to laugh, too. She allowed the crowd of first year Hufflepuffs to carry her away out of the Great Hall, down the staircases, and down the hallways of the basement of Hogwarts. She felt buoyed by the group, by their pushing and laughing.

When they finally reached the potions classroom, Sylvie slowed her pace, taking it in. It gave her the shivers. It smelled. There was a goodness and a badness to the smell. There was something curious about the dried herbs hanging from the ceiling and the jars of ingredients lining the shelves. As she looked around and took it all in her house mates were pairing off at workbenches and finding friends they’d met on the train.

With a start, she realized she was one of the last Hufflepuffs still standing near the door.

She looked around and noticed a Gryffindor was looking at her from his workbench. There was an empty space beside him—for one of his pals? His messy auburn hair and dark eyes made him seem a little mysterious, but the look on his face seemed to invite her over.

Taking one last look around, she adjusted her satchel over her shoulder and made her way to the empty space beside him.

“Hullo,” she said, dropping her bag on the work bench. She slid brazenly into the seat beside his. “My name’s Sylvie—Sylvie Hawthorne. Are you from a wizarding family? I sort of am. My pa’s a wizard, and he does magic at home, but he never took me wizarding places when I was a kid because of something that happened when he my da were—” she blushed, stopping herself as she realized was going on about personal history this boy probably didn’t even care about. “Anyway, I just mean, I don’t really know much about this stuff. My pa’s not a potions type of person—he likes charms better.”

Sylvie Hawthorne
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Date: 3/Sep/2021 | Time: 09:00 | Mood: Excited | Location: Potions Classroom
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─────Sylvie took his offered hand and shook it warmly. What a cute smile! She felt warmed by his calm and interested demeanor. She hadn’t met anyone from Gryffindor yet—not really. She’d stood silently beside some in Herbology and across from some in Charms, but this was different.

Sylvie’s eyes widened when she realized that he’d been surprised by wizarding families. So he was a muggle! How strange everything must be to him. Hogwarts was strange to her and she was used to things flying across the house and books that talked and pictures that moved. Sylvie wondered what she should say in return. It felt rude to say something like, so you’re a muggle? even if it was the truth. Even if she was more like him than like the purebloods whizzing around on brooms like they flew out of their mom’s hoo-ha on one.

“Hogwarts must be a big adjustment, then!” she finally said. “I feel like every time I get used to something here something new pop ups—a ghost ranting at teatime, a class in a dungeon, having to write with quills. My pa should have prepared me better!”

She laughed when he said that the class might be tedious for them both. “We’ll have to help each other limp to the finish line!” she joked.

Sylvie was pleased when he asked her about herself. She smiled at him and leaned in, stretching out her arms on the top of the work bench. “I grew up in Wheldrake—it’s a small village near York. Where are you from? My other da is a muggle, so he doesn’t have anything to do with magic, and he runs a tight ship at home, so he doesn’t let my pa do too much ‘nonsense’ as he calls it. There’s all kinds of trouble you can get into with magic, even as an adult. Sometimes spells don’t go as planned! Plus our neighbours would talk if they saw something strange and my pa…” She hesitated, not knowing how much to say. Her pa was scared off magic when he was younger and it took him a long time to come back to it. That’s what he’d told her. But was it right to tell other people all about it?

“My life was pretty normal, I think. I spent more time doing homework and riding my pony and practicing music than I did with anything magic. Magic children aren’t allowed to do magic at home—when we go home this summer we won’t be able to do any of the spells we learned! It’s illegal! I think it should be illegal to stop us!” She laughed, eyes almost crinkling into crescent moons. “Think of all the fun we could have turning rocks into chocolate and making our room clean itself!”

“I don’t think you’re asking too many questions,” she said, calming and leaning forward even more. Her braids draped forward and her eyes sparkled. “I like talking, so you can ask away.”

Sylvie Hawthorne
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Date: 3/Sep/2021 | Time: 09:00 | Mood: Excited | Location: Potions Classroom
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─────Sylvie’s eyes widened at the mention of a sport on brooms. That sounded exciting! Like polo? But how would it work? Her pa wasn’t really a sporty person, so he’d never mentioned anything like it.

“It sounds fun!” she agreed. “I can’t wait for broom flying lessons! Though I don’t know if I’ll ever feel confident enough on one to try catching balls on it.”

She saluted him when he said they should assist each other. From what she’d heard from upper year students, brewing potions sounded difficult.

At the mention of her pony, Sylvie’s eyes lit up and she clasped her hands together. “His name is Jeremiah, but I call him Baby J! He’s the sweetest pony in the whole wide world. My pa calls him ‘Jer’, but Baby J doesn’t like that—he gives him such a glare! I’ve had him for years now, I hardly remember life without him. Poor thing,” she suddenly went melancholy, and after resting her elbow on the top of the workbench leaned on her hand. “He’s probably going off his feed from missing me! Or maybe he doesn’t even notice I’m gone! I don’t know which is worse.”

She brightened at the mention of music. “I play lute, violin, and harp—but I’m rubbish at the harp and don’t play it as much as the other two. My pa is a lutenist—someone that plays the lute—so he taught me everything. I have a tutor that teaches me violin. I stopped taking harp lessons because it was too much! And I suppose now I’ll have to stop taking lessons altogether, since I haven’t seen any music lessons being taught at Hogwarts. Maybe wizards get magic to play instruments?”

Sylvie took a deep breath. She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, am I talking too much?”

As if she’d never offered to stop speaking, she moved on to the next topic: “You garden! And crochet! I don’t know anything about either of those. My da keeps a bit of a garden, but he doesn’t care about it, not really. He just likes the taste of homegrown carrots better. Baby J likes them better, too. Your mom sounds really nice!”

“I haven’t thought about any clubs. What about you? Were you part of clubs in your old school? Are you going to join one here?”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Date: 3/Sep/2021 | Time: 09:00 | Mood: Excited | Location: Potions Classroom
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─────Would riding a broom be like riding a bike? Sylvie wondered about that, and was quiet for a moment. She supposed it would be—you had to balance yourself, and there was a lot less to hold on to than there was with a horse or pony. But there were no pedals, no reins… How did you tell the broom what you wanted it to do?

“If you try out for it, I hope you make the team!” Sylvie said, eyes bright. “I think it could be like riding a bike, but I wonder how you control it?”

Her pony was always an agreeable topic, and she lit up like the sun while Galahad enthused about how cute a name Baby J had, and how he must be missing her, and how she could see him over holidays soon enough. His offer to help crochet a blanket was so sweet, too!

“Oh, that’d be so sweet! A crochet blanket? I don’t know if it could handle the wear and tear of a stable, but if you don’t mind that… I’m sure he would love it! And look so sweet in it! I’ll take a picture for you when I go home—my da has a muggle camera I can use. Though I suppose I’ll have to print out the picture!”

Sylvie nodded along at his speculation regarding self-playing instruments, and was gratified to hear that he thought a real musician would be better! He seemed so kind and generous—offering to make a blanket, urging her to continue speaking, the way he spoke so kindly of his mother. She felt a rush of warmth for him, and hoped they could be friends going forward.

“Of course I don’t mind!” she said when he offered to feed Baby J a carrot. “But where are you from? It might be quite the journey to visit me and Baby J, especially if you can’t use magic! Though maybe you could use Floo Powder? Sometimes my pa travels that way.”

“What kind of clubs were you in? I was so busy with music I didn’t really join any. My da thought the band at my school was a waste of time, so I didn’t join it. I suppose it’s a mean thing to say, but he didn’t think the other children were serious about music, so I was better off spending my time practicing in a more focused way.”