Someday, I will own something of great value. This will not be Harry Potter, as J K Rowling already owns it.
Monday Afternoon
Ryua stalked up from the dungeons, desperately hoping the afternoon would be better. Once she crossed into the Great Hall, however, she saw it wasn't about to start turning up yet.
The only seat was between Crabbe and Goyle. From the best possible point of view, it was the safest place for a Malfoy to sit. Ryua didn't care. They had table manners of pigs. She walked mincingly up to the bench, flicked off a few crumbs and a blob of potato salad, and slid into the seat. Likewise, she wiped off her plate and goblet before she dished up some food, and pulled it as close to her as possible and leaned way over to try and keep her food marginally clean. Mostly, she just inhaled the food as quickly as possible, disgustedly ignored her water, which had just been invaded by a glob of applesauce, and got up to leave early.
She spent the last third of her lunch hour waiting outside the Arithmancy class, trying to think cheerful thoughts. Luckily, she only had twenty minutes to get depressed at how few happy memories she had before the other students arrived. Ryua dropped onto the seat beside Hermione with a sigh, pulling out her textbook, which weighed nearly as much as her cauldron this year.
"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, struggling with her own books.
"Yeah. It's just been a long day, that's all. And these new books, the amount of stuff we'll have to memorize is just depressing."
"Okay." Hermione looked like she'd have asked more, but Professor Vector started talking, and neither of them wanted to risk not hearing something. Ryua was quite glad about this, and bent to the assignment immediately, absently rubbing her wrist as she wrote. "Ryua, did you hurt your hand?"
Oops. "No."
"You sure? You're rubbing it like it hurts."
"It's fine... really."
"Okay..." Hermione turned back to her work, flipping through the numerous charts in her book. Ryua relaxed and started writing, then reached forward to dip her quill in the ink. A hand reached out and snatched hers on the way back. "What happened to your wrist?" Hermione's panicked voice said.
"Nothing."
"Ryua, that's a deep scar. It wasn't there last year."
"No kidding. I hadn't noticed."
"Come on, tell me..." Ryua looked up into pleading eyes. Hermione really seemed to want to know. I don't know why she would. Obviously, it's nothing good...
"Oh, fine! Just keep your voice down." Ryua said, voice just a bare whisper. "I'm sure you actually read the Daily Prophet, right?"
"Of course."
"Keep writing! Vector'll come over here and ask why we aren't working."
"Sorry."
"You might have seen an article in the paper, about a Hogwarts student being murdered by another one."
"Yes, of course. They didn't release any names though."
Ryua snorted, copying numbers out of her text. "Of course not. The Ministry's well paid to keep stuff like that quiet."
"Well paid? By who? Who has the money to bribe the Ministry?"
"Am I telling this story or are you? I'd really prefer not to, you know, so stop interrupting."
"Sorry."
"The student killed was Blaise Zabini. I killed him."
"You?" Hermione said, much louder that Ryua would have liked.
"Yes me, and keep your voice down!" she hissed.
"Sorry. You?"
"He attacked me, down an alley. I panicked, and overshot. Instead of stunning him, I threw him into the wall so hard it broke his head open."
Hermione blanched, then swallowed and said, "But, Ryua, I've never known you to miscalculate anything. Especially not when you're dueling."
"I wasn't dueling."
"You weren't? I don't believe you. I wouldn't want to take my chances with you in a dark alley, by myself. You don't just give up a battle, I know you. Where did you get those scars?"
Ryua was silent a moment, just methodically filling in her table. "He had me restrained."
"Restrained? Why? How'd he manage that?"
"Damn it, Hermione, he was trying to rape me. The little rat charmed me from behind, then locked my wrists and ankles into stone manacles. And you're right about one thing. I didn't stop fighting for an instant. I'd had the breath knocked out of me, and my wand down the alley. And I don't know if you've ever tried to breathe with broken ribs and someone's tongue down your throat while he crushes you into a brick wall, but it doesn't work. I didn't care. I pulled so hard, I tore my hands almost to the bone, and still couldn't get free. Eventually, something snapped, and I used raw magic to throw him off of me. If the angle had been different, he would have made it almost out of Knockturn, likely had a concussion, and half a dozen broken bones. As it was, the wall was exactly four feet away." Ryua said savagely, grinding her quill tip into her parchment. And if I'd had a choice, I would do it again...
Hermione was stunned, Ryua could tell. She wasn't even pretending to write anymore, and couldn't appear to think of anything to say. Man, and I thought coming back to school would be a good thing. Hermione shook her head and started writing again, before someone noticed the teacher's pet wasn't working. "I... I don't have any idea what you say to something like that... I'm sorry."
"Well it's done now, and I was judged not guilty. And, it's not your fault," Ryua said in a softer tone of voice, as she filed her now-blunted quill back to a writing tip. "I really have been having a bad day. I just hoped I could forget about it here."
"O-of course. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up."
"It's not your fault. Just... don't go telling people, about what he did. I really would like to forget he ever existed."
"No problem. I won't tell."
"Harry and Ron will ask eventually. They aren't dumb."
"No... I guess they will."
Ryua sighed, setting down her razor-sharp quill. "Just don't tell them why I killed him. Our names will come out eventually, but I just want it to be known as self-defense, okay?"
"Okay." They worked in silence for a minute, then Hermione asked, "So, what class do you have next?"
Ryua smiled, glad to be thinking about something so mundane. "Charms. My most hated class."
"Well, at least Flitwick's a good teacher."
"Yeah. Hey, did I tell you how I passed my final last year?"
"No, how?"
"Well..."
Author's Note: Thanks to Me, for pointing out I've been spelling Hermione and Umbridge wrong. I hadn't noticed, because my computer doesn't like either version of Hermione/ie. And it thinks umbrage is a word, and it's pronounced the same. Not to mention, I don't have a copy of the fifth book of my own...
