Abigail's Riddle (HP fanfic)

6: The First Day

“Abigail!” Tom calls, waving his hand in the air as if I’m not already staring at him.

        “Right, of course you barely know him…” Olive mumbles under her breath, elbowing me.

         “Maybe he’s insane,” I reason although my flaming cheeks give me away.

         “Go,” she insists.  “I’ll be partners with Joanna.”

        I’m about to protest, but she skips off, leaving me with either sitting alone, or taking the empty seat next to Tom.

        “Hi,” I say, barely more than a whisper.  “It’s nice to see you.”

        “I wish you were in Slytherin,” he says bluntly.

        “Me too,” I say.  I bite my lip, as a sudden heavy feeling has waved through my heart.  That feeling I get when I’m about to cry for absolutely no reason at all.

         “I thought…someone once told me that the hat put your choices into account.”

        “Whoever said that is a bloody liar.  I practically begged it to put me into Slytherin.”

        “I’m sorry.” He sounds absolutely genuine.

        “Okay class!  This is Herbology with second year Slytherins and Ravenclaws.  Speak now or forever hold your peace.” She gazes around the room with her bright green eyes.  “As most of you know, I’m Professor Greenleaf.  Not leafy, not green thumb, Professor Greenleaf.  This year we’re going to start with some basic skills of degnoming.  The castle is in dire need of clean up, and I volunteered our class to help.  This will be great practice for when you have a garden of your own!”

        “But professor,” somebody says from a few rows back, “I already do this at home.”

        “Then you can help the other students!  Besides, practice makes perfect.” She continues addressing the class, “So, let’s get on some gloves, to prevent those nasty buggers from bighting you, and get going!”

        There’s a mad rush to the table, overflowing with gloves.  When I approach with Tom, I can see why.  Several pairs are ripped up a bit.  I pick up one of the more ragged pairs and whisper, “Repairo,” so I don’t have to get in a battle with a plump Slytherin who’s seizing the last decent pair.  They instantly look new, though I am getting doubts about today’s lesson.  Why are they so torn apart?  From what I’ve read about Gnomes, if you hold them the correct way, they shouldn’t be able to harm you.  It’s my hope that the torn ones belonged to the stupider students.

        “Now that we have our gloves on, let’s get degnoming!”

        Professor Greenleaf leaves us to it then, wandering around the garden, only pausing to correct a student who’s getting mauled by a particularly large army.

        Tom and I work quietly together, pulling out the gnomes without much hassle.  There is one particularly nasty one, who grips onto my arm started gnawing at my sleeve.  I shake my arm, but even that doesn’t stop it.  I seize it by its neck with my left hand, whirl it around my head about a zillion times in frustration, and lob it so far that it’d more easily find my house than Hogwarts again.  I smile boastfully to myself, previously unaware of my hidden strength.

        “Nice one,” Tom comments quietly, lobbing a perfectly peaceful gnome at least as far as mine.

        Rather than responding, I lob another one, matching his distance.  He gives me a cute smirk before attempting another throw.  This one goes even farther.  We continue to lob our gnomes, having a sort of quiet throwing contest.  By the end of the class my arm muscles were aching, but my heart was light.