Disclaimer for this and all the following chapters: the world of Harry Potter is the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling and I own none of it, only my own original ideas.
So, here goes another story, a bit like making The Hobbit after Two Towers, but I felt I needed to write more about Zarah and her childhood. The setting is Fifth year through to the Battle of Hogwarts. Some canon characters are mentioned, very few involved in anything.
As the title suggests, it's a view from the sidelines of the main events taking place during the second uprising of Voldemort. There will be some teen drama, some violence, some explicit language but NO sexual content.
Rated M for language.
I hope you enjoy reading it at least a fraction as much as I loved writing it. And, if anyone feels like leaving a comment of liking, I would very much appreciate that!
The truth was simple, really. Zarah was not meant to fly. Broomsticks did not listen to her and the only use she saw in them was for cleaning purposes. For a lanky kid with a mountain of expectations chained to her last name, the young witch always wore an annoyed expression on her face during Madam Hooch's lessons. It was a tough thing to realize in your first couple of years at school that you are never going to be a part of one of the most important sides of wizarding world, namely Quidditch. But the stubbornness she possessed in copious amounts made her power through the irritating subject.
So, instead of spending every sunny afternoon outside running around the lake or sporting your House's colors on the field, Zarah sat in front of the fireplace in their Common room. She read there, slept, dreamed, wrote and played. It wasn't anything about the fire or that specific armchair, but rather the spot itself. In all honesty, she thought it belonged to her. So, it was no surprise the now fifteen years old girl defended her rights to the used piece of furniture when, one rainy afternoon, a couple of classmates decided that they had nothing better to do than pick a quarrel with her.
''Hei, Holton, scoot away from here, will you?'' the boy waved his hand arrogantly her way and adjusted his sweater vest while waiting. A red headed girl next to him shared the snotty attitude, literary looking down her nose at Zarah.
She finished the last sentence of the paragraph before looking up towards the other three armchairs that were positioned in a half circle around the roaring fireplace. One of those, closest to them, was empty while the other two were occupied by upperclassmen engrossed in a game of chess. Girl's gaze slid over to the empty coach in the middle of the room and then back to the pair in front of her.
''Why?'' dark haired head inclined to one side while expressionless eyes watched the boy. It had irritated Zarah the way he had spoken to her just now and she already knew there was no way she would give her seat up.
''What do you mean why? Because we want to sit here, obviously,'' the boy sneered and gave his companion a glance that just screamed how stupid he thought she was.
''Not good enough,'' Zarah shook her head side to side a couple of times and went back to reading.
''What?! What do you mean not good enough? Get the hell out of the chair and crawl back into whatever hole you slithered out of, you freak!'' this time it was the girl, screeching like a banshee, balling her hands into fists, cheeks turning almost as red as her hair. Zarah couldn't help as both her eyebrows crawled up to the middle of her forehead, looking with fascination at the other witch's quick temper. Zero to bitch in less than sixty seconds. Impressive.
''Or what?'' the name calling didn't affect her, or the overly pushy attitude. And it wasn't like she tried to pick a fight with them, most of the time it just happened naturally. Somehow, Zarah simply wished to see how far these two would go to get the frickin' seat.
At the raise of voices the few other present in the common room started to crane their necks to see what was going on. A badly hidden snigger came from a blond haired boy sitting at the table, sharing a plate of fruit with an overgrown oaf.
The arrogant boy, Merlin's word, snarled at Zarah, his face wrinkling into hundreds of tiny lines of hurt pride and anger. He took a step closer and loomed over the chair, his shadow falling like a flickering sheet. ''You think your name is so important that you can do whatever you want, don't you? Well, for your information, the rest of us have families as important and more than yours, Holton. So stop acting like you own the place,'' ah, and there it was. The jealousy, the envy, the superimposed delusions of grandeur, the petty reasons for people wanting to get in her face and prove something to someone. It wasn't like she didn't understand the reasons that urged these people to act like pricks. She just chose not to indulge their needy behaviour.
The leg that was crossed over the knee straightened with a speed of light and, as if precisely measured, the toe of her shoe landed right into the boys balls. There was a sharp intake of shocked breath from his friend and then silence so quiet it felt like wooly worms crawled in your ear channels.
With a deep whine and instant tears, the boy crumpled on the floor in front of Zarah, clutching between his legs and bending over so that his forehead touched the floor right next to her other foot. All the while Zarah watched him patiently, waiting for the senses to return to his head.
A couple of gulps from other males present tugged at the sides of her stern mouth. There was nothing like kicking a man right into the family jewels to get him on his knees. When the animal-like whining at the foot of her chair subsided, Zarah turned her attention to the redhair who visibly flinched. ''Are you not going to help your friend, Kathrin?'' it was like an invisible brush had been dragged over the girl's face painting her even paler than before. It was obvious she didn't want to go anywhere near Zarah at this moment. After a few seconds of hesitation, however, she ran to the boy's side and helped him stand up. Well, as much as he could, because he still wouldn't straighten up.
Zarah watched as pain and conflicting emotions played on both their faces, amused to see the dissonance between hatred and fear, something that always seemed to go hand in hand. She knew it wouldn't be over this easely, otherwise people would have left her alone a long time ago. No, there will probably be retaliation at some point, maybe even calculated revenge. Zarah sighed, already foreseeing the effort it would take to deal with these people.
She didn't enjoy humiliating others. There was no pride or sparkle in her gray eyes as she watched the two retreat. But, as averse as she was to getting involved with other people, she sure as hell wasn't going to take any shit from anyone. It wasn't about her being insulted about her looks, or smarts, or anything else people found to pick on. For Zarah it was simply because she could not tolerate someone taking liberties and impinging on other people's freedom to exist. There was no malice in her reactions and she never dragged it out longer than necessary.
''You are a psychopath, Holton, you know that?'' though sounding like a question it was a statement coming from one of the two upperclassmen. They both had stopped playing, watching her with a rather uncomfortable intensity.
''Is that so?'' Zarah brushed them off while trying to pick up where she had left off her reading.
''Normal people are not as violent as you,'' the second young wizard pitched in, smirking her way. There was something truly wolfish about him.
''I guess I'm not normal then,'' her shoulders shrug nonchalantly.
''No, you are not,'' the first confirmed, smiling toothily, then shooting a knowing glance at his mate before returning to the chess board.