Alice Hills
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Looking in the mirror, Alice saw a small young lady, long curly brunette hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. Her hair looked quite pretty today, Alice thought, and it seemed to frame her face. Smiling at herself, she adjusted a curl and turned to her bed beside her. There lay the pale blue, swishy robes that she hated so much. Pulling them on, she turned back to the mirror. The pale blue clashed with her air and her well-loved curls looked out of place. Turning to a fellow dorm-mate, Alice saw that this girl's blonde, straight hair flowed perfectly. The uniform was discriminating towards curly-haired brunettes, Alice felt. It was time to find a spell to die and sort her hair out. Maybe she could do it soon, or maybe she would have to wait until she turned 17 to have the legal rights to do it to herself. Her parents would flip, but she didn't care about their opinions any longer. It was her life, and they would have no say in how she ran it now, they had messed it up enough already. Sighing, she plastered a smile on her face, before grabbing her hat or whatever they liked to call it. Plonking it on the top of her curls, she attempted to control her curls before giving up and scraped a book off her bed. It was in English, and she knew she should be working on her French, but she couldn't be bothered. Opening the door, she left the cheerful chatter of welcoming returns in the dorm and wandered down the stairs. It was a strange school, nothing like the halls at Hogwarts, where they were filled with people, bubbling with friendship, it was colder, more ordered. She disliked it greatly and was wandering down the corridors absentmindedly. Bumping in to someone, she apologised and carried on, unaware of anything but where she was going. She stuck out at Beauxbatons, she knew that, her hair was different to the majority of the French students' and she acted differently, because she was used to New Zealand.
Entering the Great Hall (or as she felt it should be called) she scanned her eyes around for an empty area. There was one in the closest corner, and grateful for this, Alice slipped into a seat. Pulling a croissant onto her plate, she nibbled as she read. She knew that the other French students had better tastes when it came to food, and she tried to ignore the odd stares and she smeared butter and jam on the croissant. It was how she liked to eat it, and so it was how she would eat it. Pulling out her book, she continued to read. Keeping up with her studies was important to Alice - far more important than making friends or trying to collect a hobby. She had a rough life plan, and she was pleased with it. Having completed half a year of her OWLs last year, at HNZ, she was irritated that she was having to resit the year, but apparently the heads of Beauxbatons felt that it was a vital year to resit, even though their exams weren't until the 6th year. Sighing at this madness, she skimmed over the sections that she knew off by heart and had learnt the previous year. She was quick at remembering things and prided herself in having something similar to photographic memory, but she refused to tell anyone incase they used it as a weapon against her. Sighing, she closed the book and looked around the hall. There were students eating, chatting in rapid French. Trying to pick up small snippets of the conversations, she began to translate. They were saying nothing of large interest, but Alice was annoyed how slowly her French was developing. She had thought that having been submerged into a fluent french environment, she would be picking it up quickly. But due to her resistance, she had been learning little, and was still thinking, translating and working in English. This resulted in it taking twice as long to complete any essay because she would write it in English and then have to translate it to French. It was stress, but stress that was manageable and saved time from being alone. That was what Alice needed at the moment, distractions.
Entering the Great Hall (or as she felt it should be called) she scanned her eyes around for an empty area. There was one in the closest corner, and grateful for this, Alice slipped into a seat. Pulling a croissant onto her plate, she nibbled as she read. She knew that the other French students had better tastes when it came to food, and she tried to ignore the odd stares and she smeared butter and jam on the croissant. It was how she liked to eat it, and so it was how she would eat it. Pulling out her book, she continued to read. Keeping up with her studies was important to Alice - far more important than making friends or trying to collect a hobby. She had a rough life plan, and she was pleased with it. Having completed half a year of her OWLs last year, at HNZ, she was irritated that she was having to resit the year, but apparently the heads of Beauxbatons felt that it was a vital year to resit, even though their exams weren't until the 6th year. Sighing at this madness, she skimmed over the sections that she knew off by heart and had learnt the previous year. She was quick at remembering things and prided herself in having something similar to photographic memory, but she refused to tell anyone incase they used it as a weapon against her. Sighing, she closed the book and looked around the hall. There were students eating, chatting in rapid French. Trying to pick up small snippets of the conversations, she began to translate. They were saying nothing of large interest, but Alice was annoyed how slowly her French was developing. She had thought that having been submerged into a fluent french environment, she would be picking it up quickly. But due to her resistance, she had been learning little, and was still thinking, translating and working in English. This resulted in it taking twice as long to complete any essay because she would write it in English and then have to translate it to French. It was stress, but stress that was manageable and saved time from being alone. That was what Alice needed at the moment, distractions.