warmhearted

“Ahh, well, I’ve got to believe that any given alien race or species is just as diverse as us Earthlings. There is many who would choose to experiment on aliens given the chance, and the same could said about vice versa. But! There are also many of us with a more level head who would try to communicate instead of dissect. So I believe the same can be said for many aliens.” Lucy raised her eyebrows, laughing. “I’d have to say that that’s some pretty advanced stuff, Charity.”

“There’s also the possibility that one of these alien races isn’t like us at all, they could be a totally uniform species with a hive mind. Like, uh...bugs! There could be an entire ant-like alien species out there. And their mission could be anything, from a simple interaction to kidnapping and probing.” Charity had totally disregarded her Potions assignment at that point, instead steadily going through her snack, “Muggles have created some pretty advanced stuff. I still don’t see why we don’t use pencils instead of quills.”

“There’s got to be! I just know it. Oh, I sure hope they visit us soon.” Lucy looked out the nearby window. She probably shouldn’t have been disturbing Charity when she knew that her roommate was doing homework. “Unless the moon landing was faked,” she said, then her eyes widened just a wee bit. “Not that I believe it was, of course.” Lucy laughed. “I’m really just talking to talk.” 

“What if they’re not friendly? They could want to experiment on us,” Charity chewed on a toad, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hand, with a thoughtful look. The break from homework was well-needed, even though she was fairly good at Potions, “I’ve heard that the moon in general could be fake,” Her tone was serious, although Charity couldn’t help the grin that slipped onto her face, “It’s just a projection of a cheese wheel, really.”

“Do you think aliens are real?” Lucy was concentrating on a small doodle she was drawing in the corner of her Charms notebook. It was a tiny daisy, something Lucy imagined would make a cute tattoo. She traced it over and over again, smiling softly. “I hope they exist. I hope we get to meet them one day.”

“I’m sure something is out there,” Charity replied, momentarily glancing up from her Potions assignment and over to Lucy, “The universe is too big to only have us, right? If magic exists, I think anything is possible.” She fumbled around in her bookbag for a moment before pulling out a package of peppermint toads, soon after popping one in her mouth, “If mankind can walk the moon, then there must be other possibilities--meeting aliens can’t be too far off?”

Ted nodded along. “Yeah. I think you’re right there. Things like this…they take yeas and even decades to achieve. I don’t mind making those sacrifices for my future kids.” Ted smiled his widest. “Awesome! I hope she can rig something up for me. I’ll happily be a guinea pig!” 

“I don’t mind making sacrifices for my future children either, I just hate the fact that I’d have to make these type of sacrifices in the first place. They’re not the usual sacrifices a parent makes, if that makes sense?” She pushed her chair out, “Why don’t we go and find her right now? She ought to be somewhere,”

Malcolm waved his hand back and forth in the air. He valued learning–was a true Ravenclaw through and through–but that didn’t mean he valued shoving people along at a pace that didn’t fit them. That seemed to be the case with Charity. Everyone was moving at a different pace in this area, which made her feel as though she was behind. “Forget everybody else. It’s ridiculous for anyone to force you to move at a pace that’s faster than you can manage. So, let me ask…do you usually have issues concentrating? Do you find this is a reoccurring issue? Or is it specific to charms and nonverbal spells?”

“It’s hard to forget everybody else when they’re the standard. Nobody’s really forcing me besides myself, I just want to be on the same level as the majority.” Charity would never be a top student in the subject; her magic was too weak, had always been too weak, and was the source of the majority of her insecurities. Whilst she never expected to excel, Charity at least wanted to be in the same league as her classmates. She shook her head, “I’m usually pretty focused, I’m great at potions and herbology and all those sort of classes, it’s just charms. Really, anything to do with charms. I don’t think I’ve got the right brain for it.”

Ted tilted his head, watching with knitted brow as his listened closely to his companions words. “It is, I agree. But that doesn’t mean we stop trying, right? I–I think it’s all just…conditioning. Maybe it’s dangerous now, but you keep pushing and keep trying, and eventually that will all be gone. I like to believe in harmony…” He shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m just rambling, huh?” Ted snapped his fingers, suddenly happy. “You’re right! Pandora would be perfect for this!”

She gave a small nod, “No, no, you’re right. We shouldn’t stop trying. I suppose I’m just afraid of what has to be sacrificed to achieve this harmony. Maybe one day it won’t be an issue, but I feel as if it’s...out of our lifetime, you know? We can only hope our children can experience the world differently from us.” Charity grinned at Ted’s sudden mood shift, sitting up in her seat, “We’ve got to ask her, I’m sure she wouldn’t be opposed to it. She’s all for bettering magic.” 

“Well, you’ve yet to be through me! C’mon, let’s give it a shot!” Malcolm put one hand in the air and the other hand over his heart. “Of course I won’t judge you. That’s not what tutors are for. And don’t feel bad. I mean, okay, yeah, reparo is a simple spell, but nonverbal spells aren’t simple. You’re not the only one that struggles with them, trust me.”

The corners of her mouth slid into a small smile, his positive attitude making her feel at least a little bit better about the whole situation. Although, he had to be positive, being a tutor and all. “Sometimes it seems so, I mean, we haven’t worked on reparo in ages--everybody else is onto more advanced spells at this point.” She sat up, shaking her head, “But--enough negativity. I think my issue is concentrating long enough?”

“Ugh, stop apologising all the time. It’s so weak.” she muttered, as the last of the books ended up on the desk. She still didn’t know why she was wasting her time on the girl, she had much better things to do and to save any chance of her thinking she was actually intending anything nice to come from their situation, folded her arms across her chest. “Ah, you’re a chaser. I remember ‘Gus mentioning your team sometimes. Well, if you fumble books like this- god help your team when it comes to matches. Perhaps you should introduce some of that Quidditch co-ordination into your every day life.” she added, rather rudely. 

But she couldn’t resist the lure of potentially being able to show off- after all she didn’t work hard for nothing. “If it’s your worst subject- why didn’t you just drop it when you had the chance? What are you stuck on?”

Charity blinked once, twice, three times at Rita’s mumbled comment, feeling her cheeks redden. The Hufflepuff had never considered apologizing to be weak in any way or form, and found herself opening and closing her mouth--stuck on another apology. “It’s just habit,” Was what Charity said instead, wiping her hands on her skirt and standing from her kneeling position. “We manage pretty well, thank you for your concern though. I’ve got to save my best for the matches, though, oughtn’t I? It’s better to be clumsy now than later.” There wasn’t a way out of the conversation, it seemed, and so Charity forced a polite smile, an attempt to hide just how tense being around this particular Slytherin was making her. 

“Well,” Charity wrung her hands together in thought, “Do you give up the things you’re not immediately good at? Or do you persevere? Just because I’m awful at the subject doesn’t mean I don’t have the chance to better myself in it--no matter how long it takes. I would think that you’d have the same train of thought.”

“Hey,” he said and smiled. “It’s not problem, really. Sometimes you just need little tricks, you know? Like thirty days has September–that kind of thing. I think that’s how most of us make it by, but the majority of professors don’t give you those tips. Which means you just got to hear them from your fellow classmates. So what’s up? What are you working on?”

“I think I’ve tried every trick in the book,” Charity let out a sigh, “I’ve been through nearly every tutor there is, and none of their suggestions have helped.” She shifted in her seat, reaching over to pull her hat closer to them. The poor thing; it was Charity’s favorite hat too. “You’re not allowed to judge me, alright? But I’m still working on those darn nonverbal spells. Right now my focus is Reparo--which should be simple. But I’m completely rubbish at Charms and so it’s intensely frustrating.”

“It’s probably for the best they stay separated?” Ted hadn’t meant to echo the girl, but it just slipped out. “Why do you say that?” If asked, Ted would have agreed with what she initially said–that the two coming together could produce something wonderful. He certainly didn’t think it best that the two stay separate–then he wouldn’t be at Hogwarts. 

“Oh, I don’t rightfully know. I probably should know more about it, truly. Wouldn’t want to be ignorant now, eh? I just hope they get a fair deal, you know?” Ted shook his head with a click of his tongue. “It’s a shame. Hey! Maybe that could be your job! Inventor of the voice-to-paper writing quill!” 

“I mean--not completely, of course. Muggleborns should still be able to attend magic schools and be in the wizarding community and such; it’s their right. I just...” Charity paused, playing with the wrapper of one of her candies, “There’s a lot of bigotry in the world--I’m sure you’ve experienced it, being a muggleborn and all. There are people who hate us purely because we’re not purebloods, and there are people who will hate us for not being muggles.” Her mother had given up her entire previous life to marry Charity’s father and therefore Charity had never knew her muggle relatives. It bothered her some days, but it bothered her even more to know that her family on that side would never accept a witch into the family. “I just think it’s dangerous for both sides.”

“Somebody ought to care for these creatures more,” Charity let out a sigh, before letting out a small laugh at Ted’s suggestion, “While I’m flattered you think I’m anywhere near capable of producing something like that--I think that’s too much Charming. Leave it to Pandora to invent something, y’know? She’s much more talented than I am. Maybe I’ll do something with potions or plants, instead.” 

Allergies? Yeah, alright. She ignored the girls excuse, she also would’ve said anything to excuse the idea of her crying. But Rita didn’t cry in public, in fact she rarely cried. If she did, it was when she was alone, truly alone. “Oh yeah, the old dust allergy- someone should really start cleaning off these books.” she replied, giving her a nasty look. 

But she was glad when Charity offered to move, Rita knowing she didn’t have time to deal with nuisances. She hated how sickly sweet Charity sounded, whenever she had heard her in passing conversations or seen her doing something overwhelmingly kind. It made her want to hurl. What was the point in being so generous and kind in the world they lived in? “You know, I think that would be-” but then the books went tumbling with a loud thud and Rita flinched a little at the sound revertbating around them. 

“Oh jesus fucking merlin-” she muttered, standing up, pushing her chair to the side. She shot Pince a rather dirty look back. She wasn’t afraid of the librarian. “What are you? A natural clutz or something?” she added, bending down to quickly help pick up the books. She placed them back on the table, slyly taking in the titles with a thoughtful expression. 

“Charms?” she questioned, trying to remain casual. 

With the nasty look cast in Charity’s direction, she had really just wanted to slink right into her seat and disappear--of course, this would happen the one moment Charity showed vulnerability. Usually she was a happy-go-lucky, painfully cheerful type of girl, with honey for blood. “I’m sure Madam Pince tries her hardest to dust,” She shrugged with a weak attempt to be lighthearted. 

The books dropped at the same time as her heart, the Hufflepuff quickly going to her knees to pick up the fallen books, a swear mumbled under her breath rather uncharacteristically, “I’m so sorry--” It wasn’t clear if she was apologizing to Rita, the books, Pince, or the entirety of the library, but it was a mumbled apology; a last attempt at being quiet. Her eyes couldn’t reach Rita, the girl not willing enough, and so she kept on picking up the books--quick with slightly shaking hands. “No, this is a first, actually--I’m pretty coordinated most of the time,” It was sincere, no hint of a lie--Charity was a Quidditch player, for goodness’ sake, she couldn’t afford to be a klutz. 

The girl placed a few books back upon the table, finally looking over at Rita, “It’s my worst subject--I’ve been attempting this spell for ages.”

“I think there’s loads of ways to help out. I’d even dare to say you could help people out in just about any field–I might be missing something obvious, but I think in general it’s all about what’s in your heart. And I don’t think it’s bad that you don’t know. You’re still young and no one said you have to start your career right this second–or even after you graduate. There’s plenty to do while figuring it out.” Ted beamed. “Well, coming from a Muggleborn, the Muggle world is pretty boring. But I didn’t grow up around magic, so I could see how someone who did, would find the Muggle world interesting. It’s all about where you’re coming from, I guess. Whether or not it’s interesting isn’t really the question, though, is it? The question is…is it important? And the answer is yes, of course. It’s very important to inform others, especially those who have never had to confront Muggleborns before. Make sure they understand there is no difference, that we’re all just as equal and important as the next person.” Ted nodded along. “Yeah…that’s another reason I hesitate. The last thing I’d want is to take advantage of the situation, you know?” He looked down to his chicken scratch, scarping every area in his mind for the answer. “I don’t rightly know—wait! I think there might be. But, if I remember correctly, the spell works in a way that it writes in your own handwriting. Which is helpful for the wizards and witches with dyslexia and all of that, but not so helpful for anyone like me, who just has bad handwriting. With a charmed quill, you could make it so that the font is standard across the board, you know?” 

“Yeah, but sometimes it feels like there’s that pressure, you know? To leave school and instantly have this huge career path ahead of you. I mean--my parents have never pressured me ever, really, they just want me to do whatever’ll make me happy--but everybody around me sort of seems to know what they want to do.” Charity sat up once more from her slumped position, leaning her elbows against the table, “See, I grew up with both sides--and seeing the differences is so utterly fascinating. It’s really a shame that the Wizarding world hasn’t been able to connect with the Muggle world--we could create something amazing--think of all the inventions! But--” The prejudices she had seen came to mind, her smile faltering, “It’s probably for the best that they’re separated.”

Charity had seemingly gone through the last of her liquorice wands, the girl pausing for a good moment to dig through her bag--a look of disappointment upon her face right until the last moment, when she pulled out an entirely new bag of them. It was a wonder that she hadn’t had more cavities. “Speaking of these poor creatures--who do you think owns them? Dumbledore? Do we get a new set of house elves with a new Headmaster?” She continued on her immobile snacking journey, “I’m glad there’s some solutions for kids with learning disabilities, but I suppose there’s just none for you, huh?”

“Sorry,” he said, and smiled. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. You just seemed a little…” Malcolm searched his vocabulary, which happened to be extensive, but only came up with, “…not okay.” He shifted towards the chair in front of Charity. “Given we’re in the library, I would guess that you’re working on schoolwork…I reckon you need some academic help? Help that I’m hoping to supply.” Malcolm smiled.

“Hm?” Charity lifted her head, looking at the boy who had sat across from her with hazy eyes and listening to what he had to say, “I won’t say that you’re wrong, but I’ll be fine, really,” She attempted to organize her notes, shuffling them around in an attempt to put them in the correct order, “It’s just...really difficult, but I can do it. It just takes a little while, y’know?” Her hand rose up as if the disorganized girl was going to start biting at her nails, but fell just as quickly; instead going to a discarded quill as she spoke again, “I mean--if you have any suggestions I suppose I’d be willing to listen...” 

Gladys hadn’t meant to be staring. It was just that Charity seemed so intense and it was beginning to concern the younger girl. Most of the time, when people fell into situations like it, it became terribly difficult to break the cycle. hen she first spoke up to get the other girl’s attention, it didn’t seem to work. Taking in a breath, she tried again.

“Charity?” she questioned, “Are you okay?” If it wasn’t for the tears in her eyes, at least the corners, Gladys might have just thought that Charity was terribly sleepy. This red eye was different, though, and it concerned her.

Charity instantly bounced up, wiping at her eyes, “I wasn’t sleeping!” She stated, slightly louder than a whisper and filled with momentary panic. She looked around, then up at the standing Gladys, instantly relieved. Charity was friends with all of the Gudgeon siblings, two out of three of them being in Hufflepuff with her. 

“Oh, Gladys. No worries, I’m perfectly fine--just doing some schoolwork,” She smiled warmly up at the Ravenclaw, her fidgeting hands going to stacking up her countless notes into one neat pile. “Thank you, though, for being concerned. I wasn’t disturbing anybody, was I? I’d hate to distract anybody from their studies.” For a girl who looked practically on the verge of tears, she remained as calm as a June day when speaking.

“Oh my god, really? That seems a bit excessive.” Gwen shook her head, although she herself was not known for her restraint during meals. Eating was her favorite part of the day though, so she didn’t feel too bad. “I dunno, I think it’s house elf magic though, right? It always seemed a bit hazy to me but they do always have enough. I’d bet you they’ll have just what you want we when get there.” The image of Charity drinking hot chocolate from a soup bowl made her laugh though. “Bless you. I always sneeze when I go outside on sunny days. Very frustrating during Quidditch matches.”

“Everything about Bertram is excessive, I’m afraid,” Charity replied, serious for a moment, before breaking out in a small grin. While the blonde herself never went for seconds, she knew several of her friends who would gladly pile their plates up to the ceiling. “I think you’re right, I don’t think I’ve ever really questioned the magic behind the kitchens. I hope the house elves don’t mind us intruding though,” Charity had been to the kitchens countless times--perks of being a Hufflepuff--but rarely did she think of the house elves. “Thank you--I know, I’ve witness it every match,” She let out a small laugh, “I rarely sneeze--I hope I’m not getting sick, that’s going to be terrible during practice.”

Alice had noticed Charity’s despondent expression earlier but her attention was taken up by a third year who was sobbing over something a friend said. So Alice took care of that, talking the girl through it and sending her on her way, and then she finally had a chance to return to Charity. Sixth year was hard; she remembered feeling nervous and stressed for most of the year, honestly. It was different from seventh year, but no less stressful and overwhelming. By the time she got back, Charity’s head was on the table in a position Alice remembered all too well. 

“Charity?” Speaking softly, she moved to stand be the table, ready to shake the other girl awake if it was necessary. “Sorry to bother you but I thought you’d rather that I woke you than Madame Pince. Do you need any help with your work? I’d be happy to chip in if you want.”

The girl sat up instantly yet slowly, with a quiet yawn, “Oh, Alice, I um--” Charity glanced about at her notes, scattered around her table as if she was a mad scientist doing research and not a desperate student. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” She replied, “Really, don’t worry about it. I’ll get the hang of it eventually, y’know?” Yet the hat still taunted the girl, and all Charity wanted to do was throw it across the room. It wasn’t that Charity didn’t want help, it was just that she felt like such a burden when she requested the help from others. People shouldn’t have to stop what they’re doing just to assist her in something she should’ve learned how to do ages ago.

Nonetheless, the more the girl thought about it...a little help couldn’t hurt too much, and it wasn’t really help help, just advice so that Charity wouldn’t end up ripping out her own hair, “I mean...how do you focus long enough to do a spell nonverbally? How do you empty your mind completely?” Charity had always found it difficult to clear her mind, it being constantly plagued with worries.