Chapter Text
I have a good life. I mean, it is probably better than some others, or at least it was. I have a family that loves me; I never had to worry about financial issues; I have amazing friends; my academics are astounding, except for Divinations, but I’m dropping out of that class anyways. I know the way I’m talking it sounds like my road is a nice paved one, but no one’s is perfect. Mine has speed bumps and cracks in it as well.
My parents are muggles for one. For many of the students at Hogwarts, they think that because of my family history, I am not as good as everyone else. That I am not meant to be at Hogwarts; that I am a disgrace; that I don’t matter. It hurt. It still does. When I walk down the hall and overhear a group’s conversation about me, it’s a stab to my heart. Though, lucky enough I have friends that help me heal. That helps me put on armour so that it doesn’t hurt much anymore. For that I am grateful.
I get bullied about other things, one main one is my classes. A lot of people seem to bully me (I think it is simply jealousy) about my grades. Since I more often than not get the highest grades, they make names and play pranks. Whatever way suits them to try and wound me. Ironically that is how I met my friends: Harry and Ron.
It started in my first year during Potions class. Harry was cutting his Flobberworm the wrong way for the Sleeping Draught, and it was distracting me from my work. Didn’t he know it was supposed to be chucks and not strips? So I told him that he was doing it wrong. He gave me a small smile of thanks before cutting them properly. It was Ron though - who was standing beside Harry - that gave me his best version of an evil glare. Back then I thought it was scary, and mean. Now I find it humorous.
The second time it happened, and I guess the worst time, was Charms class. I was sitting beside Ron, and that class was attempting to levitate a feather using the Levitation Charm. The incantation for it was Wingardium Leviosa, and I got it first try. Therefore I had nothing else to do. So as I watched Ron constantly pronounce the incantation wrong, I had to say something. He didn’t say anything at first, simply did what I had said and (to no surprise) it finally worked. It was after class when we were heading to the Great Hall for dinner, that I overheard Ron’s conversation. He was imitating me and something in me just snapped. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I hurried past them so no one would see me cry. I skipped the Great Hall and went to the first Girls' Bathroom that I came crossed.
Little did I know that was one of the worst decisions of my life.
I ran into one of the stalls. I locked the door, slumped down onto the seat, and began to cry. I started to think to myself about how people could be so rude, so cruel to others. About why people didn’t like it when someone would help them, or just simply tried to be nice. Then it went to other topics. Like why did people automatically hate me because my parents weren’t wizards? Why did they immediately judge me when they didn’t even know me? I continued to cry. I was crying so loudly, so strongly that my whole body shook as I sobbed into my hands. And because of that, I didn’t hear the bathroom door creek open.
My thoughts constantly changed to many topics. Like how I hated the fact that the girl’s bathroom smelt horrible and that it wasn’t a nice place to cry in. The thought helped me temporarily stop crying, making me let out a little laugh. And afterwards, after that little moment of silence, is when I heard a growl. It was loud, deep, and vicious. If that growl alone could have killed me, I don’t have any doubt that I would have been dead then and there. I froze, I didn’t know what to do. I was in a stall, I couldn’t run, I was trapped. I covered my mouth with my shaking hand, trying not to make a single noise. Then I heard another growl, and this one was worse than the other. It sounded closer to the stall and was oozing with death, almost like a promise that whatever was about to happen, will be painful. I couldn’t help as a small whimper escaped me. From the growls, and the way the monster was currently audibly sniffing the air, I had a strong feeling of what was on the other side of the door, and that scared me more.
At that moment, I knew I was done. If what I thought the monster was, was true, then I had no chance. The spells I knew would be useless on this creature; it was too fast to outrun; too strong to defeat. All I could do was hope that my death would be quick and painless.
Just then, a loud SLAM echoed through the room, and I jumped. There, embedded in the stall door, were four large claws. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. All I could do was watch with morbid fascination the claws that now gripped the door.
The claws then swiped downward, making a horrible screeching noise as it made four large streaks in the door. I couldn’t help but cringe at the noise, and I quickly covered my ears with my hands and shut my eyes, willing the sound to stop. When it finally did, I opened my eyes and then was faced with the creature threatening my very existence. This was the one time in my life that I was not happy about getting something right. Because, as I predicted, standing in front of me, on all fours, was a werewolf.
Lips pulled back in a snarl, large sharp teeth glistening with saliva, the werewolf looked happy; victorious. My whole body was now shaking as I stared into its eyes: full of hunger.
The werewolf leapt onto the weakened door, and with its weight, broke the hinges. The door, along with the werewolf, fell forward into my stall, and I shrieked. It was now only a few inches away from me, staring at me. It was looking at me as if I was this huge turkey dinner, and it hadn’t eaten in weeks. I was now passed scared.
I was utterly terrified.
I stood up from the seat and quickly took a step back, to try and get as far away from the werewolf as I could. My back hit the wall and I whimpered, now I was officially trapped. Where was my so-called Gryffindor courage? I had no clue.
The werewolf slowly walked closer to me, and I pressed as far as I could into the wall, hoping that somehow I would seep right through it and to the other side; to safety. But as the werewolf only got closer, and now its snout was inches from my face, I knew nothing would work. I could feel its warm breath on my cheek and smell the horrible stench of it.
With another growl, it jumped up onto its hind legs and lifted its right arm up high, the dim light making the claws shine almost mockingly. I closed my eyes and lifted my arms in front of my face in a sort of pathetic attempt to protect myself. Before I knew what was happening, I was slammed into the side of the stall and slumped to the ground. Great pain surged through my back and arm. Breathing large, laboured breaths, I managed to lift my head, with pain and difficulty, to look at the creature. It had its clawed hands covering its ears with a pained expression on its face. I didn’t know what was happening to it, but I was relieved that it stopped its attack. Then, I heard an incantation, and with a bright light, the werewolf was limp on the ground.
Looking to my left, I saw both Professor Snape and McGonagall as well as Ron and Harry, all looking at me with worried expressions. Snape had his wand out and pointed towards the now-dead werewolf.
“Are you all right?” McGonagall asked, looking from the werewolf, and back to me again.
“I-I am okay Professor, you guys got here just in time. Thank you,” I lied. I couldn’t tell them what happened, I couldn’t risk anything worse happening, “Now, if it is okay, I am going to retire and go to sleep.” I didn’t even wait for an answer, I got up and quickly walked past the onlookers and headed to the Gryffindor Tower. As I walked down the hall, I hoped that they didn’t see the large slices in the broken stall door, or at least, didn’t question it.
They did.
I made it to the Fat Lady, my arm hurting more and more as my adrenaline faded. I must have injured it worse than I thought when I landed on it. However, my fear was that it was hurting for a completely different reason. I recited the password (pumpkin juice) and nearly ran up the stairs and into the dorm room.
I slumped onto my bed and closed the curtains. Satisfied that no one could see me, I took off my robe, and then slowly lifted my sleeve up my left arm. I gagged as the horrible smell of metal, of blood, hit my senses. Looking down, there on my arm were four, deep, crimson slices in my skin. I slammed my head into the headboard as I started to cry. I knew what this meant, I read books on werewolves and what would happen if one got scratched or bitten. Now I knew I made the right decision to lie about what happened. I couldn’t go to the hospital wing about it, I couldn’t tell anyone about it. I have to deal with this myself, and that just made me cry more.