On the first Sunday of term, Eliana sat in the library, organizing her list of plans.
Subject One: Transfiguration:
School coursework:
① Turn a match into a needle within five seconds, including the time needed to say the spell. √
② Add an embossed pattern to the needle. √
③ Turn three matches into perfect needles in succession. √
④ Write the six-inch essay Professor McGonagall required. √
Outline: three inches. √
Draft: twelve inches. √
First version: ten inches. √
Final version: eight inches. √
Final version (one): six inches. √
After checking off the whole list, Eliana sighed deeply. Cutting a twelve-inch essay down to six inches had been no easy task. She had to keep her language concise and her reasoning clear, delete every discussion that wasn't closely tied to her central argument, and write as small as she could.
Still, the process had given her a much deeper understanding of the topic. She was certain the essay was now more than three times better than the first version.
Absolutely perfect.
No, there was one problem. She had made corrections on this version too, leaving a few scattered black marks, and some of the handwriting wasn't very neat. That tiny flaw might turn her O into an E!
She couldn't bear the thought of something so terrible happening!
Eliana whipped out a blank sheet of parchment, checked final version (one) for typos, then began copying out final version (two).
Thank goodness the library had free parchment she could use to her heart's content. Otherwise, buying parchment would bankrupt her sooner or later.
All in all, Eliana's life at Hogwarts was wonderfully full. Once her homework came back with O's in every subject, just as she had expected, she felt even more motivated to study.
Well, there was one other thing. It wasn't very kind of her, but she still liked to savor the memory now and then: Professor Snape holding up her essay in Potions Class and using it to mock Harry's and Ron's incomprehensible nonsense. He had said the parchment would have regretted not rotting at the paper mill if it had known what they would write on it, and told them to learn from her.
She had kept her head down and looked embarrassed at the time. In truth, behind the hand covering her face, she had been grinning so hard her gums nearly showed.
Sorry you had to suffer, Harry and Ron, but hohoho, that felt amazing.
Yes, she was that vain a little girl.
If she couldn't show off the high marks she'd worked so hard for, what was the point?
That day, as usual, Eliana stayed in the library until the sun was sinking in the west before returning to the Gryffindor Common Room.
Drop off her bag, eat dinner, rest for a while, then exercise. She couldn't just drop dead before she'd accomplished anything. Even her gravestone would be anonymous... That absolutely wouldn't do. She had to take care of herself.
Perhaps she could add something to her morning schedule too, like running a couple of laps around Hogwarts Castle after getting up... Running around the Black Lake would work as well.
"Ow!" Lost in thought, she walked straight into someone ahead of her. Irritated, she asked, "Who's blocking the doorway instead of moving?"
"Oh, sorry, Eliana." Harry apologized, then said excitedly, "Did you see the noticeboard? We have Flying Class this Thursday!"
Ron came over looking grim. "Mate, did you stop reading halfway through? We're taking it with Slytherin."
Harry looked as though someone had stuffed a lump of dog shit into his mouth while he was laughing with it wide open.
"No!" he groaned. "Why them again? I don't want to make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy!"
Ron was in such a foul mood that no one was safe from him. Seeing Eliana still looking perfectly calm only made him more annoyed.
"Oh, of course it doesn't matter to our clever Miss Eliana. She sits with Malfoy in every Potions Class, doesn't she?" he said sarcastically. "Malfoy certainly won't laugh at her."
Ron and Harry clashed with Malfoy as if they were born enemies. Add Gryffindor and Slytherin's traditional rivalry, and Eliana forcing Malfoy to sit with her in Potions Class looked like a betrayal of their house to them. They grumbled about it whenever they got the chance.
Malfoy wasn't happy about it either.
But who cared what a bunch of weaklings who couldn't beat her thought?
"Do you know why Malfoy won't laugh at me?" Eliana said with a smile. "If he dares say one word too many, I'll shut him up by force."
"And the same goes for you if you keep running your mouth, Ron."
She suddenly drew her wand and cast Confringo at a wooden tissue box on the common room table. Amid the billowing dust, she smiled sweetly. "What a pretty little firework, don't you think?"
She tossed her bag onto a chair and climbed back out of the common room without looking back.
In the silence, Ron swallowed hard.
After a long pause, he asked Harry in a trembling voice, "Say I accidentally got into a fight with her. What do you think my odds would be?"
Harry answered blankly, "One to nine."
Ron was pleasantly surprised. "I have a one-in-ten chance of winning?"
"No. One move from her, and you're down in the ninth circle of hell."
Ron wasn't satisfied. "What if we took her on together?"
"What? Me too?" Harry pointed at his own nose in shock. His glasses slid to the tip of it.
"You wouldn't help me? We're mates!" Ron looked hurt.
Kindhearted Harry couldn't bear to upset his friend. After careful consideration, he ventured, "I could help collect your body."
"Hey!"
Still, news of Flying Class had excited all the young Wizards. Right through Thursday breakfast, everyone talked nonstop about riding broomsticks.
The loudest storytellers were mostly students from Wizard families.
Malfoy said he'd nearly collided with a plane on a broomstick. Ron said he'd nearly collided with a plane on a broomstick. What was it with planes? Were they part of some Wizard flying game?
They were obviously boasting, and Eliana didn't believe either of them. Her fingers brushed over Quidditch Through the Ages, Make a Flying Broomstick, Flying with the Cannons, Broomstick Care Manual, and Autobiography of a Quidditch Beater in her bag... She had searched the library for "flying," "broomstick," and "Quidditch" and borrowed the most popular books she found.
If she'd had more time, she could have read even more!
Eliana stuffed some fried egg into her mouth with a twinge of regret.
Hermione was eagerly sharing flying tips she'd read in books with Neville beside her. She was another student who looked up relevant books before class, and Eliana admired her for it.
Birdcalls of every kind rang out. The post had arrived.
Damn it.
Eliana hurriedly drank the last of her Pumpkin Juice. Why did these owls always deliver letters at mealtimes? Had no one considered that flapping their wings might send dust onto the food?
Eliana irritably slung her bag over her shoulder. The heavy thing swung like a counterweight and spun her halfway around on the spot.
She immediately looked left and right. Thank goodness nobody had seen.
Time to go study ahead. Today would be a big one: Transfiguration and Charms in the morning, Herbology and Flying in the afternoon. Still, that was fine. Flying Class was the only one of the four she felt even slightly unsure about.
And only slightly. She had more or less mastered the theory, after all. Yesterday, she'd even found a long branch by the Forbidden Forest to practice what riding a broomstick felt like. It hadn't flown, but she had mastered how to grip the handle.
She swore she held it exactly as the books described.
She didn't think she would have any problems.
Full of confidence, Eliana had no idea that after a month of success in every class, she was about to stumble spectacularly in Flying Class.
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