Closed To See How You Might Grow

Monty Pendleton

💡 Inventor | Guardian 💡
 
Messages
10,413
OOC First Name
Claire
Blood Status
Muggleborn
Relationship Status
Single
Sexual Orientation
Asexual
Wand
Straight 9 1/2 Inch Rigid Walnut Wand with Thestral Tail Hair Core
Age
1/1999 (61)
Set August 2058, a month before Rion left for Hogwarts. Family god-mods approved!

Monty smiled and sipped his wine, letting the wings of conversation flutter around him at the dining table. What a privilege it was to see his family every weekend, to watch his grandchildren grow, to be regaled by their stories and heartened by their laughter. Saveli and Reuben, at the heart of it all, insisting he was doing them a favour, though all three knew it to be the reverse. It was no hassle to cook a roast and put some cartoons on the television. His daughter and son-in-law going out of their way to include him in their lives - well, that was a gift.

Tonight, Rion had slipped away from the table earlier than usual. Monty had a suspicion she had eliminated herself from their board game on purpose to watch TV, but he said nothing. It wasn't until, completely by chance, he was eliminated as well that he excused himself and went out to the living room to find her. She was lying on her stomach in the middle of the floor, propped up on her elbows. Her favourite cartoon played quietly on the set in front of her. Monty recognised the episode; she must have watched it at least three times.

His knees clicked as he sat down on the carpet beside her. "Ooh - that's the sound of getting old," he said. No response. Not even a sideward glance. Monty wasn't surprised. His youngest granddaughter had been preoccupied lately. He gave it a moment before trying again. "We're going to play again, soon. Would you like to join us?"
 
Rion stared determinedly at the colourful pictures. No, she didn't want to play another game. One of the best things about visiting her granddad every Sunday was getting to watch TV. Why couldn't he let her do it in peace? It wasn't as if anyone really wanted her at the table, anyway; she was a sore loser and a bad sport. She mumbled something that sounded vaguely like 'no' and willed him to go away. There was an emotional scene coming up, and as little as she wanted to hit pause, there was no way she was going to cry in front of her granddad.
 
Ah - how quickly they grew from moody toddlers into moody teenagers. "OK," Monty said. "No problem." But he stayed where he was. The game in progress wouldn't be won for another ten minutes yet, and besides, he needed the occasional break himself. On the screen, the main character was practising a tricky magic spell. "That'll be you, in September. Excited?"
 
"Uh-huh," said Rion, without looking away from the screen. It wasn't a lie. Or it hadn't been a lie, until a few weeks ago, when the reality of what lay ahead had suddenly taken grip of her nerves and given them an almighty shake. "Super excited."
 
Doubtful. "You don't have to be excited," Monty said. "You could be, I don't know, say... worried. Overwhelmed. Sad. That's all perfectly understandable, too."
 
Rion resembled her father's side of the family more than her mother's, but it was striking how much she looked and sounded like Saveli in that moment. Monty shrugged. "It's a long way away. It's unfamiliar. It's an enormous change." He stopped, afraid of giving her new, previously unconsidered things to worry about. "But I'm not a mind-reader."
 
No, he wasn't a mind reader - but Rion almost wished he was. She looked back at the screen. Tee was about to save the day, again. And this time, when she did, she would be turned into a princess. Rion glanced at the remote control, but let the scene play. If she were as brave and clever as Tee, she wouldn't worry about anything. She'd read books and do magic and hang out with her friends and nobody would ever make fun of her. But that was just TV. The real world was much bigger and scarier and full of people who were unkind for no reason. And she wasn't anything like Tee; not really.

When Rion spoke again, she could barely be heard above the cartoon. "Do you remember, when you helped me make that orrery, for my science project?" she said. "And you asked what happened and I said that I lost it?"
 
"Yes, I remember," said Monty. His granddaughter's creativity and perseverance had surprised him. It was a small, mechanical build, made with dowels and thin plywood gears to show the orbit of the earth around the sun. He had helped with a few of the technical parts, but the idea and design had been all hers. "Why do you ask?"
 
Rion had already told this story once, when she'd come home from school in tears and confessed to her mum, but her granddad even more so deserved to know the truth. "I didn't lose it," she said. "They broke it. Vanessa and Danielle and Josh in my year broke it. They were supposed to be my friends." Rion looked away, her throat tightening. "I'm really sorry. But - I didn't do anything to them. I don't get it. Everything was fine until Ainmere left, and then they started being mean, and now everyone thinks I'm weird. And I know I'm never going to see them again, but..." But what if it's the same? What if nothing changes? She risked a look at her granddad. "What if no one likes me?"
 
Monty knew Rion struggled at school, but he hadn't realised the full extent of it until now. This explained the gradual decline in her confidence over the last year. Of course, she had always been prone to moods, but once upon a time they had been scattered between long periods of irrepressible optimism and endearing cheek. Nowadays, he considered himself lucky if he saw a genuine smile. And no wonder.

"They will! Of course they will," he said, fighting back a rising feeling of helplessness. He couldn't guarantee the children would be kinder to her at Hogwarts. It hadn't worked that way for him, after all. But he couldn't stand to see Rion upset. "I'm sorry your friends betrayed you. That's awful. And don't apologise." Monty looked at the TV. What could he say? What did he wish his dad had said to him? "You know, you could be the loveliest person in the whole world, and people would still find reason to fault you. Jealousy. Insecurity. Misunderstanding. And the more you bend to please them - as I'm sure you'll have discovered - the more inauthentic you'll feel, until... you lose sight of who you really are. And that would be devastating. Whatever it is that makes you feel different - that's what you've got to hold onto. That's what makes you special. That's what makes you strong. You see?"
 
Indeed, Rion had already discovered that trying to make people like her only made her feel empty. But feeling empty was better than not having any friends. She pulled a loose thread from the carpet. He sounded just like Tee, telling her to embrace her differences, that she was special. The cartoon and her granddad couldn't both be wrong, could they?

"Yeah. I guess," she said, managing a weak smile. It was all so much easier said than done. Still, her granddad's words reinforced what she wanted to believe. "I just wish they'd talk to me." If not to apologise, then at least to tell her what she'd done to deserve it. "Why can't everyone be nice?"
 
Talking solved a lot of friendship disputes. In this case, however, Monty suspected Rion would be better off forgetting about them altogether. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe it's so we really appreciate the people who are." It had taken Monty a while to find true friends, and while he was sure he would have appreciated them under any circumstances, the trials of his youth certainly helped him appreciate them more.
 
Rion nodded. One day, she'd have special friends who loved her as much as she loved them, and who would never whisper behind her back or sabotage her work. Maybe she just had to wait for them. "Thanks, Granddad," she said. The episode had almost finished; she would have to rewind. "You can go now. If you want."
 
"Hint taken," Monty laughed, already getting to his feet. "I'll go and see if your mum has won, yet. Let me know if you want anything, hm?"
 
As soon as he was gone, Rion hit rewind. But the scene that usually made her cry now only made her misty-eyed. For so long, she had been afraid of growing up and all that it entailed. She needed her mum too much to move to a boarding school half way across the world. But what if she was ready? She was stronger now than she'd been a year ago, and stronger then than she'd been the year before that. What if all that she had been through was preparing her for this moment?

It was time.

Rion cried.

END​
 

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