Profile of a True Gryffindor

15 December, 1973

Dear Diary,

You would think that Christmas would make people be nicer to each other, but things are getting worse around here for Muggle-borns. It's an Olympic sport to pick on us right now. Regulus seems to have me dead in his sights, and he has help. Yesterday, his cousin, Bellatrix, cornered me in the girls' toilet to warn me not to tell Professor McGonagall about how he hexed me in the hallway earlier in the day.

Bellatrix has a nasty reputation for cursing Muggle-borns for fun. I heard that she had something to do with Emily's accident in the lake. What made her go into the water when she's so scared of it? I'm afraid that I will be next, so I am going to avoid going to the loo on my own, no matter what.

Professor Slughorn let the class know how we stood yesterday. For the first time, he said how proud he was that I had improved so much over the term. I am now fourth in my class, and Regulus is running a distant ninth. He looked very angry that I was beating him in class. When we left class he called me a 'Jumped-up Mudblood'. I ignored him.

I need to go. There is so much studying to do for my exam in Potions.

________________________________________________________________________

Fundamentals of Potions Exam

Objective: Brew a correct Remedy for Boils Potion.

The letters spread out like tendrils across the blackboard as we enter our classroom to take our exams. I cannot help but to smile, because Professor Slughorn set the same assignment during the last Remedial Potions tutorial a week ago.

We are given only forty-five minutes to complete our task which means there is little time for error. Luckily, Professor Slughorn has already set out which supplies we will need. There is an air of desperation and determination among the first year students in our room to succeed.

There are only five minutes left, and I bottle up a nearly perfect creation to be graded. I place my potion carefully in a flask, and kill the flame under my cauldron. In the review session last week, we learned that this potion explodes quite easily when over-heated.

There is a queue forming behind me as I drop off my assignment and return to my seat. Regulus is the last student still brewing. He should have been finished by now. When I pass by him, he has an odd expression on his face. There is a snigger that erupts from one of his cronies as I walk to my desk so I can clean up my cauldron.

Before I even reach my desk, I smell something burning and there are sparks erupting from my cauldron. I don't even have a chance to shout for help as the room explodes in a cloud of boiling potion and splinters. Everything goes black when something hits me in the back of the head.

________________________________________________________________________

My head weighs a ton as I peel it off of the sticky floor. I look around the room to sight of a viscous, black liquid dripping down the walls, students in various states of injury, and furniture scattered everywhere.

A student in Hufflepuff robes is sitting on a bench next to me with burns on her hands, looking thunder-struck.

"Oh, God, my head," I choke out, attempting to stand up. I only make it to my knees before a wave of dizziness forces me to the floor again.

"Nell." A familiar voice calls my name. I look up to see Abbey staring down at me. She looks terrified; I don't know why, I'm the one who is rubbish in Potions.

"I've got a headache," I mumble weakly. "You don't take Remedial Potions, Abbey. Shouldn't you be studying for our Charms exam in the morning?" I feel so fuzzy and confused. Remedial Potions is on Thursday nights.

"Nell, Charms was today." Abbey's voice sounds odd, and it is making me agitated. I don't like being teased. "We just took our Potions exam, remember?"

"Abbey, don't play jokes..." My head hurts, and something warm is dripping down the side of my face. I reach up to find blood on my hand. "What's going on?" I ask as my heart races out of control. "Did Regulus hit me with a hex, again?" I ask, waiting for her to plot some revenge. "I feel sick." The room is swimming, and I hear her shout to someone. The pain in my head hits a violent crescendo as a river of scarlet runs down my sleeve.

Some man is speaking to me, but I don't care to answer him. Someone touches the back of my head, and I smack the offending hand away. I can feel tears forming in my eyes. It takes a lot to make me cry, and now, I am in so much pain that I cannot think.

The world grows dark and distant for a few moments, to my relief, but snaps back into focus as I hear Professor McGonagall's voice in front of me. I didn't realize I have been rocking back and forth until a hand steadies me.

"Miss Howard, are you all right?" she inquires gently, carefully touching my head. "That's a nasty bump on your head."

"The only reason why she would be here is if I were in really big trouble. How am I going to explain myself to her?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to forget about my exams..." I trail off as a huge throb of pain cuts across my forehead. The urge to vomit is almost overwhelming. "When I get rid of my headache, can I make them up?"

"Nell still thinks it's yesterday. She's been talking nonsense about being in Remedial Potions." Abbey can no longer contain herself and sobs openly.

"No, you're not in any trouble. You can take care of it when you are feeling better," Professor McGonagall says with a strained smile.

"Did I make this mess? I always do what Professor Slughorn says to do, you know," I rattle on. "Never mix ingredients too quickly, or don't overheat the bottom of the cauldron; you know what I'm talking about, Abbey," I say, grabbing at her arm to get her agree with me.

I feel sleepy as Professor McGonagall tries to catch my attention by calling my name. "I'm sorry, Professor. Please, don't dock any points. My head really hurts, and I just can't pay attention. Can I go to the hospital wing for a headache potion?"

I hear my name called again, but I can't answer. I surrender to the oblivion that swallows me whole.

My body feels like it is filled with concrete as I make an attempt to open my eyes to check the time. I must have overslept. Why hasn't someone woken me? What about exams?

When I finally pry open my eyes with a suppressed groan, I see Mum dozing in a chair next to my bed. What is even more shocking is that I am in neither the hospital wing nor my own dorm room. This new place reminds me of the pediatric ward I stayed in last year. The only difference is there are little floating globes of light illuminating the space.

The fuzzy comfort of sleep has completely worn off as the pain in my head reappears with a vengeance. I don't know where I am, how I got here, or what day it is. All I know is that I don't like it.

The image of a ruined Potions room briefly flashes into my mind like a ghost of a long lost relative, but it leaves just as quickly. I try as hard as I can, but only a few more fleeting pictures come to mind. A loud bang, Professor McGonagall talking to me, and the memory of a bad headache are all that come back to the surface. Did I get in trouble, then expelled?

As I start to sob, I feel the warm embrace of my mother enveloping me. "You're fine, darling. Don't cry. Everything is just fine."

"I can't remember anything." I feel panicky. "What's wrong with me?" Tears are welling up in my eyes and terror rips a hole in the back of my throat.

I take a deep breath and relax as I lie in the security of my mother's arms. "Darling, there was an accident at the school. You were injured rather badly, and the school decided that it would be best to bring you to hospital." She pulls out a tissue to dab my eyes and continues with: "You're going to be fine. It is just a bad bump on the head, but the school did not want to take any chances."

I don't feel like asking questions right now, I just want to relax in her arms until the pain goes away. I start to drift to sleep, but I hear the sound of the door open. I look up to see a rather cheerful middle-aged man in lime green robes smiling at me. It doesn't take me but a minute to find out I am in a wizarding hospital called St. Mungo's in London.

I don't see any difference between his exam and the one at the other hospital. It's the same pointless stuff: Squeeze here, push there, poke at this, watch that light, what do you remember of these three words, and do I remember the accident. The only change is the use of a wand and they are Healers, not doctors. At least this exam does not involve needles or machines.

The Healer finishes his exam and says, "I think we can have you sitting at home by Christmas Eve. I think another potion for your headache this morning will probably be all that you will need." He sets down the clipboard he is holding to pull up a chair. "So, how are you liking school?"

"Fine." I can only offer an awkward answer. I don't know what his motive is. "My best classes are Transfiguration and Charms. Professor McGonagall told me that I was top of my class before exams in Transfiguration."

"I had Professor McGonagall when I went to Hogwarts, too. Is she still changing into a cat the first day of classes?" he inquires with a cheery grin. "Does Flitwick still stand on a pile of books to lecture in class? I loved Charms class. I had to spend a lot of late nights studying for it. Sometimes, I spent too much time studying. Gave myself some serious headaches."

Mum speaks up at last as if I needed an 'English to English' translation. "I think what we are trying to tell you is that Madam Pomfrey and your teachers are worried that you are trying a little too hard."

I want to scream that I have to be twice as good as the other kids, because I am Muggle-born. I don't think either one would be able to get it. The teachers at the school didn't.

"What I am going to do is prescribe several potions to prevent the headaches. I will also look at adding something for anxiety. Now, I feel another factor we need to discuss is that your body is changing, young lady. You're at that age when you start to go through puberty, and that can make your headaches worse." He is giving my mum an odd look as if he might have delved into some very personal territory. "You understand what I am talking about, don't you?"

My cheeks are burning hot as I remember the 'talk' my parents had with me before I left for school. 'Where-Babies-Come-From' and sex have never been a mystery for me. I grew up around horses and dogs since I was three. It is just weird sitting here discussing my private bits with some stranger in lime green robes.

"I know about how I am going to get my period and other stuff." This is all I can manage to spit out without dying of embarrassment. "It's going to make them worse?"

"Hormones can make migraines worse, but we'll try our best to prevent them." He stands up to pick up his clipboard. "Well, I will leave you ladies. My Trainee Healer will be in here with something for pain, but it will probably make Eleanor very sleepy. She can go home in the morning if everything checks out. Happy Christmas," he says and shuts the door.

"Do you hear that, darling? Home for Christmas it is. Your father will be so excited to hear. He had to be in court this morning. I can't wait to surprise him." Mum's bubbly attitude is not real. She is faking it for me. "Your teachers sent me your marks."

I don't even remember taking them; I was probably rubbish. Do I really want to hear this?

She pulls on her glasses awkwardly to look at a piece of parchment from an envelope. "I have your Transfiguration grade first. By the way, Professor McGonagall came by before you woke up to deliver this herself and to see how you were doing."

"She's my head of house. Her class is my favorite."

"Yes, well you had a ninety-eight percent on the exam and a ninety-six percent in the course." She smiles with genuine pride. "Charms: ninety-five percent on the exam and a ninety-four percent in the course. You made one hundred three percent on the Potions exam and a ninety in the course."

Did I just hear her right? I must be delirious from being hit on the head.

She goes on to discuss several other classes that I managed to do very well in, but I am stunned by my Potions grade. How could I have done that? I don't even remember taking the test!

"Are you going to relax a little more next term? I am proud of your grades, but you are hurting yourself," she chides, grabbing my chin to look her in the face. "Your father and I love you so much."

She starts to say something else, but another Healer walks in with a glass of steaming liquid with the expectation that I drink it. Months of dealing with Madam Pomfrey have taught me not to refuse. Mum looks on in amazement as I down in without a single protest. She couldn't even get me to take grape-flavored cough remedy when I was younger.

As I am being pulled towards oblivion, I can hear my mother begin to argue with someone and my name mentioned.

25 December, 1973

Dear Diary,

I'm so happy that we are staying home and not flying to Auntie's for Christmas this year. I don't think I could handle dealing with her right now. With all the stuff going on at school, I don't need her butting in on my life. Every time we go over there, she always has some new idea on how to improve my attitude. I'm not good enough for her.

I keep having some really weird nightmares about school. In one dream, I have come back to class and been told that there was a mistake made. I am not a witch and sent home to live with Auntie, because my parents refuse to take me back. In another, I see Regulus dropping something into my cauldron during Potions, and it blows up the entire classroom.

I still don't remember anything about what happened before the holiday. The Healer told me it might be from shock. I wonder what shame I will face when I go to class again. I bet Professor Slughorn will never let me near a cauldron again. Do I really want to go back to school?

Mum and Dad gave me some great presents this year, but many of them I can't take with me. The new record player and records will have to stay home. Anything electric will not work there. Mum made sure I had plenty of warm pajamas for my drafty dorm room.

Abbey and Constance sent presents to me. Abbey sent me some chocolate frogs and Constance gave me Berty Bott's Every Flavor Beans. I have learned to be very careful when biting into them. I once got one that tasted like a rotten cabbage. I have sent them both some Muggle sweets, because Abbey said she wanted to try some.

I feel like I have a split personality: One for home and one for school. I want to know which one works the best. I can't use magic at home, but I can't use anything from the Muggle world at school. Sometime I feel so lost.

I am trying to pluck up the courage to ask Mum if I can start taking riding lessons during school holidays again. I miss riding. It wasn't my idea to stop with the lessons; it was Mum's. Dad didn't agree with her that I should quit riding. I overheard them arguing about it the other night.

Mum and Dad never argue, but there have been several that they didn't think I could hear. They must have thought I was asleep. I could hear her telling Dad that maybe I shouldn't go back to school, but Dad felt she needed to stop hovering over me so much. I don't want to cause my family to break up.

Mum's calling for Christmas dinner,

Nell.