She sat alone, the Gryffindor that belonged in Slytherin. Her dark brown hair pulled into a messy bun, her golden eyes full of worry. Something about her bugged me, the way she always came top in class, the way she played seeker better than anyone, including me.
She was perfect, friendly to everyone and ever willing to help, but she never fitted in, the reason? Her father, Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf. Since the first day at Hogwarts and she lied about her father, she's been a outcast, a freak: not even the slytherins liked her.
At first I felt sorry for her, no friends and all, but then at the Gryffindor Quidditch Try-outs in our first year, she purposely distracted me so she caught the snitch! Okay now we're in our fifth year and she hasn't lost us a match yet... but I could have done it... ish.
"James, James!" My cousin Fred shouted, waving a hand in front of my face. I straighten up, back to reality.
"Finally! You've been staring at that Jessia girl for hours." Oliver Wood Junior added.
He really hated when we called Oliver, or Junior, or Oliver Junior. He was always Oli.
"Nah Oli," I replied. " Just in my daydream thinking about Quidditch tactics."
Roxi Weasley, Oli's girlfriend and my cousin, rolled her eyes and went to sit with Dom. Girls always hated when we talked about Quidditch.
Jessia Greyback
I stared at the soup swirling round my plate. Another dull meal, another dull start of term feast. Why bother when half the kids don't listen? Why bother when the other half are deciding what prank to pull on you? If I was Professor Longbottom I'd call it a day and get rid of these stupid feasts, but no one listens to the werewolves daughter, no one.
Down the end of the table, are the Wotter lot, laughing, mucking about. What I'd give to be included, to have friends. But no, I can't: I've got to be a social reject, a freak, all because of my stupid effing, death eater father?
Sometimes I hate my life.
Walking out the Great Hall,Ciara Green, the utterly vicious Slytherin Beater, and her mates target me.
Joy, I think as they approach. Since the word go Ciara has made it her lifes work to bully me. She hates me so much one day I think she's gonna pick up her Quidditch bat and pound me in the stomach with it.
"Hey Wolfie!" Ciara hissed. "Haven't been scratching anyone in the summer have you?" One of her friends pins me against the wall as Ciara runs her sharp claw like fingers down my face.
"We need to tame you Wolfie, 'cause we can't have you biting anyone can we?" With every word she inflicted a blow to my chest. By this rate I'm gonna have a seriously bruised body or worse.
After what seems like an eternity, she stops, still smiling and walks away.
Another feast, another beating, I think with tears threatning to spill. But I stop them, Jessia's number one rule of surviving: No one can see you cry.
