Perched on the stone ledge I peered thoughtfully through the diamond paned window. A thick mist coiled eerily across the gloomy grounds. I could barely make out the dark jagged silhouette of forbidden forest in the distance. I sighed, turning back towards the empty dormitory. Another school year had begun. The other girls, still flushed with the excitement of the feast, were probably continuing the festivities in the common room below. There was no Percy to pedantically douse the fun this year and the twins were gleefully taking full advantage. After my first butter beer, however, I had slunk away, too full of thoughts to enjoy the evening. It wasn't like me. I wasn't one prone to sulkiness. I needed to do something. I dug through my trunk and found my collection of photos and posters. I tacked my array of moving photographs mainly depicting three green-eyed children flushed with the easy laughter of happier days to the wall beside my bed. Sometimes there was a beautiful witch with flowing dark locks and a tall, brooding man with intense dark eyes. Others were of my friends at Hogwarts. Instead of using magic, I plastered my vast collection by hand the faces made me feel sad and sick for home. But my home, the home I thought of, only existed in the fading photographs. I swore quietly as a thumbtack stabbed into the ball of my thumb. Angrily, I cut my hand through the air like a knife. The remaining posters flew into place and straightened neatly. I swore again. This time there was a hint of anxiety. It was getting stronger and more erratic. I covered my face with my hands and the bed hangings flew shut. I dropped my hands to my side like they were poison and the hangings snapped open. I lifted my arm gingerly, hoping lightning wouldn't shoot out of my fingers but nothing happened. I shook my head in bewilderment and my trunk lid slammed shut. With a scream of annoyance I climbed into bed and ripped the hangings closed once more.
"Good night" I muttered furiously, pulling my covers over my head. The magic was happening more often now and I was scared.
I picked cautiously at my bacon. I glanced surreptitiously down the house table at the other Gryffindors huddled in small groups over breakfast. Nothing had happened so far. Nothing had been destroyed, nothing had moved seemingly on its own accord every time I moved. No magic had been ripped out of me yet. Still I wasn't taking any risks.
"You okay?" Harry asked curiously as I reached with exaggerated care for a piece of buttered toast from one of the precariously towering stacks. I hadn't heard him approach and gave a startled jolt. There was a loud crack over by the Ravenclaw Table. I bit back a curse.
"Fine," I replied tersely. Harry peered over my shoulder. I turned casually to see what destruction I'd wreaked. A pretty but confused 6th year girl who I was fairly certain Harry had a massive crush on was covered in pumpkin juice. A few people, mainly Slytherins but one or two Gryffindors, were sniggering. I dropped my head, hoping no one would notice the scarlet blush spreading across my face. Harry turned back to me.
"You seem a little tense," He pointed out. I remained completely stationary but forced a smile. Inside my head was whirring. It usually only happened when I was worried or upset, emotionally compromised as Dumbledore had put it. But I was not emotionally compromised this morning, my toast and jam was totally inoffensive.
"No," I replied not too convincingly. Harry shook his head and turned to Ron, who was shovelling down as much food as humanely possible down his throat. He was used to my weird moods, especially in the morning. I wasn't hunky dory until at least ten.
"Nice to have so much space," He commented wryly. Unsurprisingly, everyone was giving us a wide berth. They could probably smell crazy.
"Finally some elbow room," Ron said, between shovelling forkfuls. I smiled.
"And some leg room," I added, resting my feet along the bench. We all laughed. Hermione sat down on my other side with a smile.
"Your brothers are up to no good again," she said inclining her heads towards Fred and George. She straightened her Prefect badge thoughtfully. The twins in question grinned evilly at us before turning back to each other in a most suspicious manner. I was about to reply when I was startled by a new voice.
"Enjoying ourselves are we?" A sweet simpering voice asked. I looked up to see the new teacher, the toad like one, who had interrupted Dumbledore last night. A fake smile was plastered across her ugly face. I had taken a dislike to her last night and close-up she hadn't improved. Students were turning around to stare, wondering what the new teacher was going to do.
"I was actually," I replied quietly, a hint of defiance in my voice.. Something about her put me on edge. Her eyes glinted.
"Sit properly when you are eating her. We can't all be savages, Arabelle Darcy," she said sweetly. My eyes narrowed and I heard the shattering of glass. My cheeks flushed with anger. At the head table, I noticed that the teachers had gone quiet. Some like McGonnagal looked taken a back. Dumbledore continued to crack open his boiled egg ignoring McGonnagal's askance looks.
"You would know about that," I replied in a tone rivalling her sweetest and most sickly. My eyes were fiery pits. Students laughed openly. I saw the woman's cheeks flush with anger.
"Detention, Miss Darcy. Six O'clock my office on Saturday," She simpered and marched off. I glared and then turned back to my breakfast.
My last class of the day was Defence Against the Dark Arts and I was running late. I reflected on the horrible events of the day. In Potions I raised my hand and Lavender Brown's cauldron split in half. In Charms I reached for my quill and poor Professor Flitwick's beard caught fire. In Transfiguration while we were meant to be transfiguring a clock into a kitten but I was so distracted trying to avoid destruction that my kitten mewed like a grandfather clock and had clock hands for whiskers. McGonnagal had assigned me extra homework, which practically never happened, and it was only the first day. At least my reign of havoc had only been brief, after lunch my lessons had so far been free of destruction.
I arrived last to the classroom; fortunately the Umbridge woman wasn't there yet. I sat next to Harry (the only spare seat in the room). I smiled at him but before I could say anything Umbridgee appeared wearing a cardigan so hideous it ought to be burnt immediately.
"Good Afternoon Class," she began clapping her hands with mock delight. I glared openly at her as she surveyed the room. When her eyes met mine they hardened maliciously. "I think a little rearranging is in order. In my class, I will assign seating," she gushed, still looking at me. "Miss Parkinson, would you sit next to Mr. Potter. And you, Miss Darcy shall sit next to Mr. Malfoy," She smiled brightly at us.
We all glared but muttered agreement. I swept my books off my desk almost shaking with fury. How dare she single Harry and me out! I knew she hated Harry because of his Voldemort-has-returned campaign and the ministry-is-lying-and-a-bunch-of-incompetent-self-serving-idiots vendetta. I knew with cast iron certainty that both were true. But why me? What was it about me that offended her so? I stalked over to the opposite side of the room and slammed my books down at my new table. One of her horrible kitten pictures smashed to the ground with an angry mew. Even being a cat lover I did not feel sorry in the least. Malfoy and I glared at each other and we positioned ourselves as far away from each other as the desk allowed. The incident at the train station was ignored but I could feel the neither of us had forgotten. Luckily we were at the back of the room so no one could stare at us.
Umbridge was speaking again but I was so angry I couldn't listen. I couldn't make out what she was saying, the syllables grated horribly. Malfoy shoved my books off the table. I involuntarily made a small gesture to catch them but at the same time knowing I would fail. The books hung in mid-air and then quietly restacked themselves neatly back on the table. Damn it. Malfoy's eyes widened and then narrow. His expression calculating but confused. I peered around the classroom pretending to be surprised as well. I could tell Malfoy wasn't falling for it. Our eyes met, his grey eyes cool and calculating and mine hostile. We both jumped when a sweet voice interrupted our glare off.
"Perhaps you didn't hear my dears, we are reading about defensive theory on page four" Umbridge said and flicked her wands at our books ripping the pages open with brute force. "I hope Mr. Malfoy that you can rectify Miss Darcy's rebellious nature," She began. She gave me a sweet smile, my eyes shot daggers at her but I made sure I remained stock still. If only looks could kill, I thought wistfully.
"I've decided that will be partners in our next assignment - an essay on the correct magical theory of the shield charm," we both protested at the same time.
"I'm not working with him," My voice was venomous.
"I refuse to work with a Gryffindor," He told her imperiously. I turned to him.
"You trying to say something Malfoy," I turned on him in disgust. His eyes flared.
"Yes, I will not work with such a..." His retort was cut off. Fortunately for him.
"I understand your misgivings Mr. Malfoy but I still expect the essay on my desk by next Friday," She said brusquely and stalked off. Everyone was staring at us. I glared at everyone in turn; slowly they remembered their manners and turned around. I was left to simmer in my own fury for the rest of the lesson.
"I can't believe her!" I shrieked angrily as I swept down beside Hermione. Madame Pinch hissed at me and I instantly lowered my voice. "She's an evil old hag!" My tone might've been lowered but it still held the same amount of venom. Hermione was nodding.
"Did you hear her today. She's not even going to teach us spells. How will we pass our O. !" I stared at her blankly. This was news to me. I had been so furious and busy planning increasingly gruesome murders of Umbridge that I had been unable to make up what she was saying. Her words had slid together into a toxic slush my brain refused to decipher. I had only been able to focus when during Harry's Voldemort outburst. Which had possibly only made me more angry.
"What?" I demanded. Hermione explained to me Umbridge's ministry approved teaching regime with her own devastating accurate interpretations.
"Something has to be done," Hermione whispered fervently. I nodded grimly. Hermione turned back to her books with a thoughtful expression. I sighed and unrolled a bit of parchment. I began to viciously attack my History of Magic Essay on the Goblin Wars. There was silence in the library, just the light scratching of Hermione's quill and the screeching of my quill as I angrily drove it across the page with furious swipes. Hermione was right of course. Something had to be done.