Chapter Text
The view from the Astronomy Tower was haunting and lonely. Abed felt the November cold in his lungs, as he leaned against the stone ledge of the gaping window. In front of him, the orange sun was bidding its final adieu, dissolving into various shades of purple that quickly became the evening sky. And beneath the fickle sky lay the sprawling campus of Greendale Community College.
In the quasi-darkness, he could no longer make-out the green of his robes, but the silver serpent shined bright in his chest. The silver serpent of Salazar Slytherin…
He found an old piece of parchment inside the tower and folded it into a paper-plane. For an adventurous moment, he considered writing something inside it–a message, a poem, a plea– but then decided not to. Gathering all his strength, he hurled the paper-plane through the open window, quickly brought out his wand and whispered: Wingardium Leviosa!
Though very weak, his spell assisted the paper-plane in resisting the allure of gravity for just a few seconds, as it travelled in a horizontal, before eventually plummeting.
Initially, it zipped towards the quidditch pitch, where a group of students were practicing flying. Abed recognized one of the students as Pierce Hawthorne, a fellow first year and fellow Slytherin, who seemed to be having some trouble getting his broom off the ground.
Pierce longingly looked from side to side, a Nimbus 2000 straddled in between his legs, as younger kids with lesser brooms easily took to the air.
Abed would have liked to watch the sixty-four old finally touch the Stratosphere, but the paper-plane suddenly took a sharp turn away from the grounds and was now heading for the library.
There he saw another one of his Slytherin brethren, Little Miss Annie Edison, who was (unsurprisingly) engrossed in some book, despite the faint light. Abed noticed that when a sudden gust of wind fumbled her pages, Annie barely flinched. She kept blankly staring at whatever was in front of her.
What troubles your heart? he wondered.
He’d been told of a spell that could read minds. Abed wished he knew that spell. He’d been wishing he knew that spell his entire life, even before he knew spells were a thing and that he was magic.
Would that spell help read the mind of terrible Origami with poor aerodynamics though? Because the plane took another sharp turn and was now gliding along the narrow stairs, carved along the side of a tiny hill, that descended to the Gatekeeper’s hut.
Sat on one of these steps was Jeff Winger, another first-year Slytherin, his tongue down a Hufflepuff’s throat. Abed did not the know the lady in yellow and black but he knew she was too sincere for Jeff, whose wide-open eyes were checking out the rear of a blonde walking by.
The blonde walking by was unmistakably Britta Perry, the only person in all of Greendale who’d extended any sort of acquaintanceship to him in the three weeks he’d been there. Although Britta was a Gryffindor, Abed knew her from Potions, which the two houses had together. They’d even been lab partners once. They somehow got the brew so wrong that the pungent gases emanating caused one of the other students to faint!
She was carrying a banner that read: “House Elves are not–“
Abed couldn’t finish reading the banner, as he had to follow the paper-plane, which had swerved again and was now plunging towards the Old Tree.
Leaning against the tree, Abed spotted another one of the Gryffindors from Potions: Shirley Bennett. At first, she looked like she was napping, but then he saw that her hands were interlocked and that her lips were moving. She was praying…
He silently mouthed a prayer for her in Arabic.
The paper-plane completed its final descent in style, as it twirled and curved through the branches of the tree, and was heading for a crash landing in the Great Lake, when suddenly someone leapt in the air and caught it mid-air.
Like a psychic, Troy Barnes immediately turned towards the Astronomy Tower, the paper-plane safe in his hands, seeking its sender. For some reason, Abed did not want to be seen. He quickly stepped away from the window and hugged the walls. After few intense seconds of hiding, he peeked just his head out.
Troy had looked away by then and was now unfurling the paper-plane. Perhaps Abed imagined this, but he seemed just a tad bit disappointed to find the paper empty.
Abed watched intently as Troy started folding the paper. When he was done, he had the tiniest and most wonderful paper-boat in his palm.
Troy sent the paper-boat sailing on the Great Lake, and Abed decided he will not be jumping out of the window that evening.