Secret thoughts? I don't think so!
Sometimes you run out of space in your brain.
It happens to Olivia from time to time.
Today was one such example.
Olivia had made her way to the only quiet place in the entire school. The library. It was a warm afternoon so most of the students were outside. If not, they were in the common room, which suited Olivia perfectly. The only people in the library were a few fifth, sixth and seventh graders. They just sat quietly to themselves and studied.
She wandered the shelves and thought if she had any homework. She checked her bag. There was only some blank paper, an old March paper and an ink pen. Apparently not- No wait a minute here. Olivia rummaged around even more and then found an essay in progress. Damn it. She checked the due date on it. Tomorrow. Fantastic.
Olivia sighed loudly and cursed herself. Then she looked up the title of the essay: Moonstone and Its Uses. Of course, Olivia didn’t have her book with her, so she searched until she found a copy of Moste Potente Potions. That had to do.
The chair scraped loudly on the floor as Olivia pulled it out, sat down, and pulled it back in. She threw the essay and the book down on the table, then dug out her fountain pen. God, she didn’t want to write this essay. But she forced herself to do it. She was going to keep her good grades. Not let them drop.
After maybe twenty minutes, Olivia put the last point in and leaned back in her chair to read the final result. It was only then that she noticed the full date written in the corner. It was tomorrow’s date followed by… 2025. Olivia felt her frustration grow and she tore the essay in two, crumpled it into a ball and threw it away.
Not wanting to have a tantrum in the middle of the library, Olivia pulled out a piece of blank paper and began writing out her anger. She started by writing “idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot,” about thirty times before relaxing. She stretched her fingers before starting to write more consistent sentences like: “Sometimes I’m just tired of being a werewolf” or “Mikey is the one person who could cheer me up more than anyone else.”
When her fingers eventually cramped, she drew a star in the corner and continued writing and drawing small, almost meaningless things like:
The date of the next full moon, her name in script, a bowtruckle, Mikey's name in script, a golden snitch, a camera, Rascal in all his cuteness, Colin's name in script, a quill pen, a lot of stars and the phases of the moon.
Olivia was interrupted by the librarian announcing that curfew would start in five minutes. Oh, had Olivia been sitting there that long? She slammed the book shut, put it on the shelf and put the fountain pen in her bag before making her way back to Gryffindor Tower with quick steps.
When she got to her dorm, she threw herself tiredly on the bed and opened her bag. She took out the fountain pen, the empty space held the paper but something was missing. Hell. The paper she had scribbled on in the library. It had to stay in the book! Olivia stood up and paced the room. She had to get it tomorrow because she couldn't go back now. Olivia didn't even dare think about what might happen if someone else got hold of that paper. She had to get it first.
Reducio
@Laurie Holmes
Note: Rascal is Simon Kincaid's rat
WC: 590+
Note: Rascal is Simon Kincaid's rat
WC: 590+
| Olivia Williams - Gryffindor | Whether you're a werewolf or human, love is still love. Betrayal is still betrayal. |
Secret thoughts? I don't think so!
One more day, one more nightmare. Except this one didn’t end. No matter how much she wished it would. More whispers, more people thinking she was a ghost who lacked the features to be a proper one, and all that stupid nonsense. She should honestly be used to it by now, didn’t she usually see it every day? And no matter how much she say it doesn’t hurt anymore, it still did. Every bit of it.
She walked up to her usual seat in the library, dumping her backpack next to her. She closed her eyes, exhaling and leaning against the wall.
“What a messed up world.”
What was her homework today? Potions was the priority right now. She had to write a detailed report on the Drowsiness Drought, at least that was sonething she was good at. Oh wait. The other day, that stupid fifth-year gad torn two pages from Laurie’s book. And the Drowsiness Draught was unfortunately one of them.
“Ugh that..” Laurie stopped herself before anyone could hear.
She then searched the racks for Moste Potente Potions, finally finding them with Hogwarts: A history. She took out a chair, creating an awkward noise, and sitting down as she cringed at herself.This was such a bad day.
She started writing, honestly better than she had expected. The difference between the Drowsiness Drought and the Sleepiness Drought, and how much quantity of Valerian and the Standard Ingredient was to be used.
She wrote carefully, knowing half her grade depended on this one work. She summarised everything in bullet points, just how teachers like it. She was about to write her last line when-
Nonononononono.
She had accidentally blotted the whole paper with ink. This couldn’t be possible. She scribbled all across her paper, knowing that she would have to do it all over again. This wasn’t fair. She was almost about to break something, when she suddenly saw a piece of paper tucked in Moste Potente Potions.
Curiously, she picked up the piece, and started reading. It was definitely new, the date was of yesterday. Apparently, she had had a bad day too. Laurie’s eyes softened as she continued reading, laughing frequently at the names she recognised.
There was Mikey….the boy Laurie had accidentally mixed up owls with. Well…that most definitely didn’t go well, but she and him were still close. Then there was Colin. She smiled, remembering him and all his antics, although she had never interacted with him, though she really wanted to.
And Rascal…..did she know him? He most definitely was a pet, because why on earth would a student be called that?
She then noticed the name at the bottom.
Olivia.
Did she know her? The name sounded really familiar, yet she could not place it.
She then flipped the paper over, and started writing.
Laurie tucked the note back inside the book, her head feeling heavy. She didn’t know if the girl would read it, maybe someone else would. But it felt good nonetheless. To be able to tell someone what really happened, instead of everyone asuming false things.
I know what you mean. I never got to have a childhood. I was always told that I was over reacting, when I showed the slightest emotion. I was treated like an even before I could talk. People wonder why I have such a cold and expressionless demeanour. How do I tell them that I was told to bury myself inside, and bring out a version of me which wasn’t even human? Sometimes, I feel that my songs are my only saviour. - Laurie Holmes.