Bags And Goodbyes

                                    

                                          
    Everyone was packing their stuff and getting ready to leave. I would miss them. I wasn't sure what I'd be doing over the summer. I mean... what do teachers do when school is out? 
     That question would get answered quickly. 
    I watched as professor Snape and Dumbledore escorted Professor Lockhart to the train. Apparently, while I was unconscious he had lost his memory, and had gone quite mad. I didn't feel sorry for him. He was a stuck up, bossy, bragging jerk. To be honest, I preferred detention with Snape to class with Lockhart. 
    I'm sure I sound quite callous. Maybe I should explain. Professor Lockhart only talked about himself. When he was teaching he was teaching about hi adventures. When he gave us a quiz, the topic was always him. I didn't like him one bit, and neither did any of the boys apparently. The girls adored him. I think they liked his hair. I can't for the life of me figure out why they liked his hair. I mean... I once went into his office, and I saw a wig that looked exactly like his hair. It was obviously a spare. 
    But I'm not going to keep talking about Lockhart, because if I say any more about him I might as well just hand his books to you. 
    I started sketching in my sketchbook. Art calms me down, and helps me pass the time when I'm bored. It was no secret that I drew a lot of sketches in Lockhart's class. I was too immersed in my art to hear the steady footsteps of someone behind me. 
    I think I was sketching for three minutes before I felt someone's presence behind me. I turned around and I saw Cedric. "Hey, kid." 
    "Hey, Cedric."
    "You alright?" 
    I nodded. "Yeah. I'm just sketching." 
    Cedric sat down next to me. "I guess I'll see you next year..." 
    I nodded. "Yeah." 
    "What are you sketching?" He asked, trying to peek into my sketchbook.
     "Landscapes." I opened it so he could see the sketches of rolling fields, mountain ranges, lakes, sunsets, and the occasional sketch of the beach.
    He smiled. "Thats pretty good, kid."
    "So what are your plans for summer?" 
    Cedric smiled. "Me and my dad are going camping for a few weeks. What about you?" 
    "I'm not sure." I hadn't told anyone about Snape becoming my guardian, and I wasn't about to.
    I put away my sketchbook and art supplies. Cedric helped me. "Why aren't you packed yet?" He asked. 
    I thought for a second, but then professor Snape walked in, and saved me the trouble of thinking up a lie. "She'll be staying with me, so she won't need to pack." 
    Cedric nodded, and looked at me with an impish smirk. Snape left the room, and Cedric started to tease me. "So, I'm guessing you got over your fear of him?" 
    I threw a pillow at him. "Shut up." 
    He caught the pillow, and threw it back at me. "Okay. I'll stop teasing you." 
    I hugged him. "Stay safe over there summer." 
    Cedric smiled. "Don't worry. I'll be extra safe." He tapped the tip of my nose in an affectionate manner. "But you gotta stay safe too." 
    I nodded. "Deal." 
    Cedric left the room with his bags. I tidied up my bed. When I was done I went to find Professor Snape. 
    He was making sure all the perishable potions ingredients were properly disposed of. I tapped him on the shoulder. "Professor?" 
    He sighed, a little annoyed and turned around. "What is it?" 
    I twisted the hem of my shirt while I spoke. It calmed me down a little. "Should I pack my stuff too, or do you live here during the summer?" 
    Snape massaged his temples tiredly. "You'll have to pack." 
    I looked at him curiously. "Are you okay?" 
    He nodded. "Just headache. Don't worry about it." 
    But the problem was, I'm an over-thinker. I couldn't help myself. I had to worry about his headaches. I had to over analyze everything, and I had to come to impossible conclusions about the cause of his headaches. 
   In hindsight, I think he probably was just exhausted from my talking at him. Or perhaps he didn't drink enough water that day.
     But my little eleven year old self was positive that he was dying. In the end he went to the hospital wing, and asked for a checkup, just to put my mind at ease. Or maybe just to shut me up. 
     He sighed heavily. "See? I'm not dying. It's just a headache." 
    I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, I decided to believe him. For now...