Chương 30: Reflection

Back in the dorm, I dropped my bag with my completed Herbology homework next to my bed. I breathed in, then out. Then retrieved my bunny slippers of silence, and let out a frustrated scream into the all-consuming effect. Then another one with even more fruitless force. Jazzarath paused his chewing to look at me like I'd done something deeply disturbing. I ignored him. Of course Ella was a complete person.

Even Draco, running around the castle slinging slurs at everyone who looks too poor, or too 'muggle', loves his mom. I'd been thinking too much in terms of Us vs Them. Of Slytherin bad, and Gryffindor good. I knew that wasn't the case, and yet I still didn't pause to examine my own biases. I went too far. It was Fawley's fault. Even an eleven year old should know better than to use a group of guys to corner a girl. Also, maybe stop being such a bully, Ella, if you don't want people to hit back.

She can constantly insult Lyra's parents for abandoning her—or maybe my actual parents if my earlier conclusion about actually being Lyra the whole time was accurate—but I mention her mum once and that's suddenly too far? Bitch. I sat on my bed. Breathing hard after my tantrum. I pushed strands of hair out of my face. Part of the reason I wore my hat all the time was that it effectively drew attention away from the minimal effort I put into taming my hair.

A hat was able to look decent without the endless time-consuming effort of brushing. I should just cut it. I thought to myself, and not for the first time. I really should've before the train ride, but Ms Parish didn't want me to, and I didn't press. Currently, I was only holding back because the older girls in Ravenclaw charged for the service, and I didn't want to waste the coin. I suddenly felt tired, exhausted. I wanted to cry. Mood swings. It was the damn hormones. I glared accusingly at my chest.

I couldn't deny it anymore; the itching had only gotten worse. The rougher fabric of my outer clothes was even beginning to cause pain when they rubbed against those two sensitive protrusions. They were growing. Not much in actual size—at least, not yet—but ignoring my body wasn't working. I hated puberty. I hated aging. I hated how inevitable it all was. I dug in my trunk until I found one of the discarded packages Ms Parish had insisted on sending with me.

Maybe I should've looked into shapeshifting magics before now. Make myself an even better body than… this. Except, I just didn't have the time. By the time I would be free enough to work on a project of that scale, the worst of being a teenager would already be past. I was a girl. I was going to become a woman. Boobs were just one of the first noticeable changes on that front. A good reminder perhaps that we were all on the clock. If I wanted to do something about aging, I'd need to pivot my studies eventually.

Not something for the immediate future though. If the only examples of immortals in the wizarding world all had such major drawbacks, then there wasn't going to be a ready solution. I'd need to walk my own path to immortality when the time came. I tore open the plastic and pulled one of the folded cotton undergarments, examining it. Grey. No wire or hooks. The fabric in the front was almost flat, but not quite. It was incredibly soft. I stripped and redressed quickly with the new, permanent addition to my outfit.

It wasn't an immediate cure for how painfully sensitive the area had grown, but it was soothing. Maybe I should ask Madam Pomfrey about the potential effect my coma will have on my growth. Even if I enjoyed being short, I'd rather cut off health complications before they become pressing. I sat down for a time, feeling defeated. I hated my lack of control. Being at the mercy of events I wasn't even sure were safe to influence. So many things… changing, and staying the same. Was I really so powerless? I scowled.

Control. A thousand philosophical quotes ran through my mind. They all came down to one thing—I needed to control myself first. To stop making excuses. I'd failed a social interaction because of my personal issues; threatening people because they share a similar characteristic is stereotyping. Hormones are a reality of puberty, yet I'm the only one refusing to listen to my body.

And I knew—long before that research, and the disturbing possibility that my past might have just been a coma dream spurred by magic—that Fate magic had to exist. I closed my eyes and measured my breathing. What did I care about whether my past life was fake, and I really was a child? I already decided to discard it and live as Lyra. Now I was upset over this life not being a perfect fantasy? That the Harry Potter universe wasn't a lighthearted walk-in-the-park?

A corrupt government; a society filled with racist elites; lack of research and understanding in the academic community; a school that lacks some of the most basic amenities that muggle ones have; my own lack of magical power; puberty being uncomfortable for everyone. It was all still a far cry from the grimdark novels I liked to read. At least I wasn't in those. I didn't need to be an adult. Maturity was a social construct and adults were just children with more life experience.

The people that accepted their childish impulses had always seemed happier and more engaging than those that concerned themselves with the rules of adulthood. Acting in accordance with my morality, on the other hand, was another matter. People taking their personal issues out on others had always annoyed me. Hypocrisy was hard to avoid; but having identified some in myself, I should really seek to rebalance my thoughts and do better. The first time I was this age, I was worse than most of the students here.

More self-absorbed, meaner, dumber… actively antisocial. I didn't even pretend that I cared about others or their feelings. I shouldn't be as judgmental as I've been acting, or as easily pushed into expressing my more violent tendencies. I threw the rest of the bras from the pack back in the trunk and spotted the formerly cursed dagger laying sheathed at the bottom of it. I hesitated, then grabbed it. Along with my floating mirror a moment later.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. If I was losing control of one part of my body, why not implement a change I did want? Spending money to cut my hair was wasteful, but there was a simple solution. Do it myself. I walked over to a vanity included in our room and sat. I'd have to be careful. I might not obsess over my appearance like Riley or Cordelia, but it was still better to look good.

As long as the time spent on doing so wasn't excessive anyway. I wouldn't be able to do a pixie cut or anything complicated. Maybe just make a straight cut to below my ears? I think that was called a bob cut? I adjusted the dagger carefully. Visualizing the cut from different angles, not wanting it to be uneven. The door opened right as I was about to begin. I didn't pay whoever it was any attention until they screamed.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" I flinched at the sudden noise and cut my hand open on the dagger. I yelped at the sudden pain, dropped the dagger, and clenched the cut desperately. Riley rushed over to me.

"Sorry! I'm sorry, sorry. But what were you thinking?"

"I was just going to cut my hair," I said irritably. The increased bleeding effect of the dagger was working just fine apparently. There was a lot of blood. I fumbled in my bag for a solution.

"I– right, sorry. It's just– no." Riley muttered. I managed to pull out the stretchy socks I'd been keeping with me in case I ran into Dobby, and the Blood Replenishment Potion we had just brewed in class. It wasn't how I thought I'd be using either, but I was losing a lot of blood very fast, and I didn't have all that much to begin with. They'd have to do. I quickly wrapped one of the socks around the cut and drank the potion.

"Cut your hair with a dagger? Are you insane? You aren't some– warrior princess."

"It was just what I had on hand. It's not that big of a deal." The wound was bleeding a lot. It had already soaked through the sock. I used the newly empty potion bottle as a bucket of sorts to keep the mess contained. I guess I would now have a preserved jar of my blood if I ever needed it? Cleaning it out for another jar wasn't a priority with how many I had purchased, and how few I was using on first-year potions. Blood was used in a few potions, so it really might come in use eventually.

"Can you go to my trunk and get the white box with the red cross on it?" My med-kit would work until I could get to Madam Pomfrey. First-Aid was called that with the intent of triage; the act of treating a serious wound fast so that it could wait until you reach a more specialized professional for follow-up.

"That thing doesn't even have a straight edge. Just get one of the older girls to cut it."

"Penelope charges a full galleon. That's robbery. I just need it out of my face. I don't need anything fancy." Riley came back with the med-kit, already open, and set it down on the vanity for me. I dropped the sock into the rapidly filling jar and replaced it with gauze and a proper cloth bandage. I would've used the antiseptic too, but I was going to get magic healing. I was fairly certain Madam Pomfrey could deal with infection more efficiently than cheap medical alcohol. I looked at the wrap in appreciation.

Summer after summer spent as a lifeguard—needing to re-certify First-Aid every two years—had paid off. Even if most of the time it was just yelling at kids to stop running, then putting a bandage on their scratches when they inevitably slip and fall on the wet concrete. Now, if only I could trade all that time for the ability to cast Episkey, I wouldn't be in danger of bleeding out. Maybe it was time to pause my Fate research and focus back on practical magic.

"Can you help with the door? I'm heading to the Hospital Wing."

"No."

"No?" I looked at all the blood. I really should be headed there now. Or to one of the prefects. They knew the spell too and were a lot closer.

"Not the blood! Your hair—you aren't cutting it."

"It's my body. I can do what I want."

"Don't you have any feminine pride?" No, not really. I stared at her, unimpressed." Good hair is the most important thing a woman can have," she continued, apparently not reading my expression.

"That's incredibly reductive. Friends. Skills. Health." I waved my bandaged hand.

"There are countless things more important than a good haircut." Where my expression did nothing, she backed off at my tone.

"You're still mad at me?" she said the words quietly, projecting sadness. But I wouldn't be manipulated so easily. She was even easier to read than Ella.

"Of course I am; Luna is my friend. The only other student in the school who treats her like a normal person is Ginny, who is in another house and going through her own problems." Also, Ginny wasn't really treating Luna as 'normal'. Not yet. She might grow into being the kind of person who defended Luna, but she wasn't there currently.

"You let that Slytherin girl insult you all the time."

"That's different. For one, 'Puppy' is such a weak insult that I'm surprised she isn't being laughed at by the other Slytherins for using it. For another, I can hold my own in a social situation. Luna… she really isn't the best with people."

"I've noticed," she said dryly.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? Mathis said that's what you want to hear, right? Can you stop avoiding me now?" Such a sincere apology.

"Tell Luna sorry, and stop calling her names. Isolating her for being different is just cruel." I rebutted. And I wasn't avoiding Riley—I was just ignoring her existence.

"I've already stopped, but everyone else is using it now."

"I've noticed," I echoed.

"That's part of the reason I was so mad at you. It's too catchy of an insult, and not serious enough for the professors to stamp it out. It's going to stick with her for years. Her whole Hogwarts life and beyond."

"I didn't mean it like that. She just– She just makes things up all the time, and gets defensive if you say anything against it. Then gets mad at you if you try to have a logical discussion." Riley folded her arms across her chest.

"You know she sleepwalks right? Scared me half to death when I got up to use the bathroom one night. Then there was that time she crawled into Eliza's bed instead of her own. Or when she tried to argue with Professor Sinestra about what stars are. It's just– Everything." I sighed, relenting.

"I know. She believes a lot of strange things, doesn't feel the need to filter her observations when engaging with people who don't share her views, and some of her actions are a bit problematic. I'm not asking you to be her friend; just don't attack her for being weird. You don't have a problem with it when it comes to Cordelia, why not her?" Maybe I was being too harsh. I had just been thinking about how I should be less judgmental, and Riley was eleven.

Without having read the Harry Potter books, I wouldn't have given Luna's plight a second thought. Avoidance was my go-to solution when dealing with people I disliked. That was a reasonable response in a school of thousands, where everyone had a life outside of the place. Here in Hogwarts, the six of us were sharing a dorm, had the same classes, and we were all stuck here without the option to even leave the grounds for months on end. And I… It was nice to be wanted.

I'd made a lot of progress with befriending Luna and Ginny, but it felt like I was carrying those relationships on my back. I was always the one to reach out and interact with them. At least so far. Riley had come to me, the only one to do so.

"Why do you even want to be friends with me so much?" I questioned.

"You get along with the other three just fine?"

"You're the smartest," she said instantly.

"I want to challenge you and improve myself." After a pause, she added, "You're also the most… normal."

"Normal?" I didn't like the description. Not only did I feel it was inaccurate, I also just hated being referred to that way.

"Shouldn't Eliza hold that title?" Of our roommates, I personally felt Cordelia held the title of most normal. She was just desperate to escape it, so she overcompensated. I could sympathize with that. Riley was a pureblood though and wouldn't view her that way, so I didn't bring it up.

"Eliza thinks ugly things are cute," Riley complained, like that explained everything.

"She's also- well- she doesn't get fashion. Then there was that time she rubbed her face. Her. Face. On her toad." She shuddered, shooting an uncertain glance at the lazy toad in question, currently sitting in the open glass terrarium Eliza had brought for it.

"I'm not exactly the most interested in–" I searched for the right word.

"Feminine pursuits either, you know?"

"You aren't now," she said, confidently.

"But I see you taking in how everyone looks. How they dress. You care about that stuff, even if you don't want to admit it." I glanced back to the knife I was about to cut my hair with. Evidence that she was wrong. Translation: Eliza was a bit gross, and probably the ugliest girl in our dorm by societal standards. Riley was shallow and considered me both the most valuable friend to have and the best looking.

The superficial nature of her motivations stung, but I could acknowledge she had enough sense not to phrase it that way in front of me. She was trying. Was it enough? If I forgave her too easily, she might learn the wrong lesson. If I refused forever, she'd eventually stop trying to reach common ground altogether. Neither outcome seemed particularly desirable. What if she eventually becomes vengeful over me shunning her? Was I creating a pointless enemy when I didn't need to?

Luna already said she'd prefer if Riley and I stopped avoiding each other. My earlier fight with Kilburn came back to me. My mistake in treating people as absolutes. I could do better.

"Okay," I said tiredly.

"Just apologize to Luna. You don't need to do it publicly or anything; she'll accept without issue."

"Okay!" she said brightly, no longer bothering to pretend to be contrite.

"Now your hair."

"No. Now my hand. We can discuss my hair when I'm not bleeding to death." The wrap I had just tied had already turned red during our short conversation.

"Deal! I'll grab Sierra." She got up and rushed away before I could reject. I could already tell this was going to cause me some extra headaches.