I spent a week blonde. I knew the spell on how to change hair color by heart, I had sworn I was going use it so many times that itis forever embedded in my brain. It's never getting out. Ever. As the week went on people became more bold, as in going from staring to whispering, to staring and talking, to staring and talking to me. It was WEIRD. By talking to me, of course, I mean they would throw questions at me. Some I would answer, some I would ignore, some I would lie to. When a first year asked me how tall I was I couldn't help it, I told him that it didn't matter because I was slowly shrinking. I did this on a day I wore high heels, and the next day, no heels. The kid nearly passed out. It was fun for awhile, but then on Saturday morning mail came. I got a hisser from Ma. A hisser is rarely used, but it's like a howler that hisses instead of howls. It's a bit like a demonter. As soon as I opened it I felt the cold wind behind the words slide over me. That felt like falling into a bucket of ice. But hissers are so quiet no one else noticed.
"Hey! Look! Another attack!" Hermione proclaimed, looking over the newset edition of the Daily Prophet.
"Another?" Seamus questioned, eyebrows up in confusion. I felt the same way but didn't advertise it.
"Yes, third one this month. The ministry finally sees a connection, besides that it's all women getting attacked. Each one has a child that's only a few months old. Always outside, and each time the child was taken, but returned about a day later. It doesn't make any sense, why would the attackers take the child?" Hermione half read, half said.
"Obviously it's a weird prank." Ron threw out of nowhere. Instead of anyone person asking what he meant I'm pretty sure everyone who heard him threw a weird look his way.
"Well, think about it. They never kill the mothers, just attack, and they return the children, as if they just want to scare someone really bad." his words made sense. It was an excellent way to explain it. No need to wonder, he had obviously spoken he truth. Pfffft.
I changed my hair color back to what's natural that Monday, during potions. I was bored, had a wand, badaboombaddabing. Entertaining, wasn't I? No, I was not, but this is about the time that things get interesting. My next class was DADA and as most already know, there was a need for a teacher. So, Dumbledore or whoever was in charge of this, hired a perfectly normal lady. Professor Tarr. She wasn't great, she wasn't horrible, she just was. I think she must have noticed how no one was particularly riveted by her teaching performance, so she brought in a visitor. Remus Lupin, the former DADA teacher strutted into the room as if he had never left. I barely reacted, he hadn't taken a real notice to me or vice versa, but the rest of the class was either thrilled or distraught. The room was literally in hysterics, Professor Tarr was loving it. Lupin was eating it up, feeding his ego as if he had just received an Emmy. I just sat there, unimpressed. "Is there a problem, Miss Webber?" Lupin asked, "Webb." I corrected, and then continued just sitting there. Neville, who got sitting next to me, was the only person I noticed giving me a slightly confused look. "What?" I asked him, shrugging my shoulders as I did just in case he didn't know what I meant, and he finally said "It's just that...you're not really...reacting." he sputtered out, and I shrugged again, but this time with no words to go with it. The room went back to chaos, I continued sitting, and recieving odd looks from the former and current professors. It didn't bother me though, I was paying attention to people's reactions. I went so long being silent in that school that I heard just about everything. I knew secrets that should embarrass the boldest of any group. I knew that Seamus was afraid of the dark, and Neville had a severe food allergy to tomatoes. Not average information. The class went on and on. I could hear Slytherins hissing about how much they hated that Lupin was back. He went in front of the class and started telling everyone that he would be there for tutoring on days that weren't full moons. He had missed the class, blah blah blah, he was sure it'd be worth while, yadda yadda yadda. That didn't interest me as much as the way he had a Daily Prophet sticking out of the pocket of his robes, turned to the same article that Hermione had read that Saturday morning.
As soon as that class was over I shot out as fast as I could, I was tired of the discouraging looks. Apparently, it was my job as a Gryffindor to be overjoyed at the return of the great and wonderful Remus Lupin. Oops.
"Well, that was odd." Draco Malfoy commented as he walked right next to me. He didn't notice I was right by him, he was talking to fellow Slytherins.
"Did you see the way all the Gryffindors were practicly fighting to see who could get their lips on his buttcheeks first?" Draco cracked and, uh oh, I laughed. That brought attention to me, and Draco wasn't happy that his little comedy routine was being overheard.
"Find that fun do we, WebBER?" he asked, emphasizing the fact that he had intentionally gotten my name wrong. That bitch.
"Well, you would, wouldn't you? I mean look at you, you're the Shame of Gryffindor!" as soon as he said that his posse, as I like to call them, burston out laughing. The usual people, Parkinson, Goyle, Crabb. And their laughter secured my new name. I went from being called Webber to the Shame of Gryffindor at that moment. The name spread like wild fire, and by dinner all of Slytherin was calling me that when I walked by. It didn't actually bother me, I knew why they did it. It's not as if my family hadn't been standing in the middle of the Great Hall accusing me of being on drugs again before. By the end of dinner Ravenclaw knew the name. By the time it was curfew Hufflepuff was enjoying my name. By breakfast the next day my house was pretending to be upset by the name, but calling me that when they thought no one was listening. That was what started to bother me.
The way I saw it, my house was either with or against me, and they were trying to be both. Uh uh. I could see their death stares sent at anyone Slytherin who uttered the name Shame of Gryffindor but then I'd see the amused looks when somone such as Dean Thomas used it. They thought I didn't know, but they were clueless to how much I knew. I knew what they told their friends, and the more they called me Shame of Gryffindor, the more I learned. I bet none of them knew that there were spells that would copy words written in diaries onto parchment. I decided that if I was going to be reffered to as the Shame of Gryffindor by Gryffindor there was no was in hell I was not going to deserve it.
When my housemates tried to continue this wild and crazy normal conversation concept we were trying to carry on I went alon with it. I didn't sass talk or tell secrets, I wanted to see if they'd feel guilty about how they treated me when they thought I couldn't hear them, but they never seemed to. Even the golden trio, the group that seemed to try the hardest to be my friends kept calling me the Shame of Gryffindor. I'm almost positive I heard McGonogall mutter that in the hall when I walked by. Okay, that was crap. I'm not gonna sit here and say that I did the smartest thing, but I'm not gonna say that it was a bad idea. I did the only thing that would make everyone happy. I started acting like the shame of Gryffindor.