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@violapeverell
“Not all of it, no, but some of the recipes, I expect.” Ambrosia shrugged. She wasn’t sure yet what the differences were, having never cooked herself, and at home only ever being cooked for by a house-elf, but with the food being so much better here at Hogwarts she was interested to see what she might be able to produce herself.
“I guess you could try. There is no harm in that.”
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“Obviously, we’re expected to win,” she bit back and watched the other closely. “But just because we’re going to win doesn’t mean we shouldn’t look as skilled as hawks in the air.” Body buzzing with irritation, the older teen mounted her broom and dug her heal into the supple earth. She could her a small eruption of mud spurt forth as she kicked, taking off into the air as if it were second nature. The wind against her whipped at her clothing, tugging at it tightly like a needy lover. Shivering, Samorn lightly touched her broom, halting it’s movement so she could gaze down in wonderment at the sight below. “If you’re so grand and talented, in no need of help, come meet me up here!” she called out, cupping her hand around her mouth as she shouted. The breeze tousled her locks, blinding her as she sat there, still and content, in her rightful place in the sky. Devoid of any social encounters in the air, Samorn knew that broom flying was the right hobby to fit her internal needs; the correct fit; the correct release. It was perfect for forgetting about all of the troubling matters that teased her day in and day out. Languidly, the Slytherin gripped at her broom and inhaled, sucking in a breath of air so fresh that her eyes prickled at the corners.
Viola watched the other girl, stepping back with a look of disgust on her face when mud spurted into the air. She looked up and frowned at the Slytherin, wishing she had that much talent in air. She couldn’t back down from a challenge, though. She mounted the broom and pushed off, making it into the air on her first try. After that, her climb was wobbly and not at all as perfect as she had made it sound. Eventually, she had managed to climb to the same height as her friend, looking down at the ground wearily as if she may be sick at any moment. “Well, I made it.” she spoke after a moment and a gulp, “You thought I couldn’t do it, but here I am.”
“Would you be interested in accompanying me for a late night investigation of the castle and grounds? I’m sure we could find some– interesting things.”
“I would love to. It will be interesting.”
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“Practicing?” she repeated, tasting the word before smiling back at her housemate. “I’ve already had enough of that. On a broom, I’m as efficient as a bird.” Cockily, the brunette shrugged her shoulders and tightened her grip around the wood, clenching it tightly in her soft, experienced hands. “But I figured it might benefit the team if I sharpened my skills. I’m not looking to make a mockery of my house. And impressing Slytherin would surely aid me in the future.”
Eyeing the other girl carefully, Samorn shifted slightly, lowering her broom before carefully dismounting. “Are you skilled on a broom?” the degenerate inquired as she began to fish through the warm interior of her robe pocket. Uncaring of her housemate’s opinion, the dark haired girl extracted a poorly rolled smoke from the confines and placed it between her flushed lips. Sparking the end with her wand, she inhaled deeply before letting the smoke escape into the foggy, cool air. “Because if you need help, I’m more than willing to assist. I’m taking this match seriously. There’s no reason Gryffindor should beat us. Our team has an advantage that the other’s don’t.”
Taking a step back to critique the other girl’s stance, Samorn crossed one arm in front of her abdomen and snickered lightly. “Show me what you’ve got and don’t be shy about it. If you’re no good, we’re going to stay down here until you’re better.”
“I don’t need help!” Viola insisted, sounding extremely offended at the suggestion. She was a Peverell after all. Peverells didn’t need help from anyone to do anything. They just did it.
Of course, she probably should have taken the help. She could use any assistance she could get at the moment. But instead she insisted, “I’ve flown with Matilda before. We’ve played games on brooms. This should be no problem, especially with the amount of muggleborns on the other team. Slytherin only chose purebloods, and we should all be able to ride a broom then, right? The others can’t. We’ll definitely win.”
That was Viola’s logic anyway. Even if she wasn’t the best, she would still be better than any of the children that came from muggle families, in which they wouldn’t stand a chance against her. She could ride well enough to keep her family name in tact, as her father had said to her before, and that was all that mattered. This game would give her experience, and they would definitely win it no matter how her flying skills were.
“It is. That’s why house-elves cook differently to witches, and muggles differently again. It’s all its own form of magic. Surely you can see the similarities to potions? Many of the recipes we’ve been sampling at dinner were Hufflepuff’s own inventions. She truly is a brilliant witch. Our house-elf back home has never made anything remotely like it. I’d like to try and teach him when I go home, I think.”
It wasn’t until she related it to potions that Viola truly began to understand cooking as some sort of science. She didn’t want to admin to it, though. Instead, she commented, “I don’t think house elves can learn what we do.”
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“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you now? Don’t worry. You’ll find out soon enough. Treating others as though they’re less than you won’t win you any friends, you know.”
“I tire of this conversation. Goodbye.”
Learning cookery is learning magic. It’s a sort of magic all on its own, anyway. Besides, I am going to be learning all the other things at the same time.
“I suppose.” She didn’t sound too convinced, though. “Whatever you say, love.”
Oh, I see. Well I suppose I’ll just have to wait and find out, then. I didn’t realise that there might be some difference in what they’d be teaching us, although of course that does make some sense. I’d like Hufflepuff to teach me some cookery, if she can do so alongside the standard lessons. She’s an excellent chef.
“What a feminine thing to say. You should be more concerned with learning magic and doing something with your life, other than being a good house chef, Ambrosia.”
“Oh. That’s an area I’ve never even tried. My grandmother was always very strange about it. Chinese superstitions, you know? She won’t even let me have an owl because she thinks they’re bad luck. Although the dark arts isn’t named in a way that lends itself to positive connotations. That’s interesting, though. I hadn’t even considered we might learn that. Do you suppose I’ll find it easier than Defence Against the Dark Arts?”
“I think the dark arts are harder, than defense against the dark arts. I know Slytherin intends on teaching his students the dark arts, I don’t know if the other three are.”
“I wish I knew how to fly properly. I feel like I’m giving Quidditch a bad name just by playing it.”
“You should just give up.”
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“Funny. I’m not frightened of you either. Though you should be.”
“Yeah? Why?”
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The air had been damp and clammy since the sun rose over the horizon. Hidden by the clouds, the morning remained dark and gloomy; the castle grounds consumed by a thick fog. Dense thickets of half-drowned trees pressed close together at the edge of the forest; they held branches dripping with curtains of damp fungus and dew. Samorn admired them from a distance as she trumped the grounds, searching for a suitable clearing to kick off on her broom. It was a slick little number built with finely cut quebracho. The shaft was adorned with a leather grip and a owl-head pommel at the head, her family’s crest. Her parents had sought it out from a maker overseas and presented it to her for her sixteenth birthday. She had never flown such an expertly crafted broom; when riding, she felt as if she were dancing in the air, light and elegant.
Though it was her intent to fly alone and tune her skills, Samorn caught a glimpse of another person in the distance; it could have been one of her housemates or a professor, but in the moment, she didn’t quite care for any company. She had wings to spread. Swinging her leg around the thick, strong wood, the Slytherin dug her heel into the wet earth and swiftly kicked off, her broom carrying her far from the ground in a matter of seconds.
Grinning wickedly, the brunette decided to investigate the mysterious passerby and in one swoop, brought herself a few meters above the other. “Out for a morning stroll?” she inquired brightly, her body swollen with a sense of pride as she hovered overhead, maintaining her broom’s stability as she sat there waiting for the other to respond.
Viola wasn’t quite sure she was ready for the game today. She had flown on a broom before, of course, but she wasn’t particularly the best at it and she was afraid she would let Slytherin down. So she had come out early to get some practice. She wasn’t quite sure what type of broom she had, but she knew it was one of the best out there. Her grandfather had hand crafted it and added in his own magic to make it work better than a broom one would just buy, she knew she had one of the best brooms in the school, especially compared to the school brooms that some of the other children were using.
When she was about to mount, she heard a voice and jumped, tumbling over her broom and falling to her knees. The broom landed beside her with a thud. She looked up angrily and sighed when she saw who it was. “Samorn! Do you mind? I’m trying to practice for later! And look what you’ve done! You’ve gone and skinned me up!” She stood and brushed herself off, trying to collect herself before she picked up her broom.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” she continued, her eyes narrowed at the other Slytherin, “What are you even doing out here right now? Are you practicing too?” She expected the girl to already be better than her, and from the way she was riding, she assumed she was correct.
“Well, at least we’ve got the best of the best in the Slytherin house. Muggle-borns just aren’t cut out for this, and it’s only a matter of time until Slytherin’s point is proven.”
“I’m Andromeda. I come from the Prince family. No one in my family has married anyone other than another pure-blood.”
“Of course, I’ve heard of your family. Not as big as mine, but it’s a good, strong pureblooded family nonetheless.”
“Oh dear, I’m not sure I was cut out for flying. It’s definitely interesting though.”
I agree, but I really don’t think there are words strong enough to describe what exactly it is.
What are you most looking forward to learning, do you think?
“I heard Slytherin was good with the dark arts, which my family is the best at, so of course I’m excited to show them what I know.”
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“Samorn Lester; the pleasure is mine, of course. So, what do you think of the castle? Do you find it luxurious? Suitable enough? My parent’s estate was minuscule in comparison.”
“Is it childish of me to admit that I’m excited to explore it?”
“No, that’s not childish at all. I think this place is wonderful. Much bigger than where I come from, although my estate is very large. Luxurious and suitable are both words I would use to describe it, yes. I can’t wait to see all of it.”
“I mean, alright. If you’d like me to, but I don’t think it’s justified.”
“I do. Go away. You’ve got mud in your veins. Mudblood.”
