He felt like prey. A pack of wolves, they were. They circled him and observed from a distance, ready to strike. They camouflaged themselves, hiding effectively in their surroundings. They hid amongst the sheep, who would maybe offer him protection, but were unaware of what was happening under their noses.
He remembered none of their names, and only a blur of their faces. Glimpses of memories flashed by. They revealed only scenes which confused and scared him. The more he remembered, the more he became he'd entered a territory, belonging to a pack which never extended an invitation to make himself at home.
The wolves stopped circling him and trailed upstairs over time. One halted before following the rest of the pack. "Welcome back, dimwit." she said. Her hair was organized into two blonde plaids, falling over her shoulders to her middle. Her glasses were slowly gliding down her nose as she said so. She pushed them back with one hand, balancing a stack of books with her other. Her shoulders were hunched and she held a timid demeanor. Her face spoke of disdain. Her voice announced her feeling of superiority.
He was officially rejected by the weakest member of the pack.
He sat down on one of the blue couches and started to remember where he was. His common room. At this hour it was only occupied by the eldest students, the sheep, cramming in their late-night studies. Their eyes glazed over him when they looked his way. There was no connection.
He lay on the blue couch in the corner of the room, designed for elegancy over comfort, the whole night. He curled up into a smaller ball while every memory returned to him with detail. The last of students eventually all retired to their dorms, and the last candle-light slowly dimmed as he cried silently for the first time.
ooo
"Mr. Sparrow, answer me."
He simply looked at his desk, fingers tracing the lines left in the denatured tree.
"Look at me, Mr. Sparrow."
He closed his eyes.
"Five points from Ravenclaw. Anybody else?" The girl next to him, with the blonde plaids, held up her hand. "Yes, Isabelle?"
A day went by without him saying a word or ever looking at someone. It hurt. Then a week, and it became normal.
He didn't go back into the forest. He wanted to, but didn't. So, he never left the castle. He went from his dorm to classroom and classroom and classroom, back to his dorm.
He slept, studied and ate. Days went by slowly, but before he knew it, it was a week and then a month and then two since his release from the hospital. He never cried again.
And then it was winter. Everything continued in the same way, never stopping. Until professor Flitwick called him to his office.
ooo
"Glenn, what's troubling you?"
Professor Flitwick was about half his size. Yet he felt small. He didn't meet his eye, preferring the dust, illuminated by the gloomy light of grey clouds outside. A small impulse to disrupt the peaceful movement of specks with his hand went through him. Instead he stared in front of him, immobile.
"Glenn, -" Flitwick seemed to give up, and changed the subject to more practical issues. "Mr. Sparrow, your grades have dropped dramatically. I don't know whether it's because of your injury or whatever you're going through at the moment, but either way I think it would benefit you greatly to have a tutor aid you."
He met his head of house's eye for a short glance, before glaring back at the ray of dust. He wanted to poke the air.
"Do you have anything to say about this?"
He answered in his head: "Piss off."
"Harry will be meeting you in the library every Monday after school."
Being dismissed, he stood up, took one last look at the collection of dust, and walked back to his dorm. The specks peacefully continued to dance in the air. He nearly smiled.