I don't own Harry Potter, bla, bla, bla…etc.
hapter 10:
I Meet Some less Pleasant People
After Herbology, I trudged to History of Magic, a class taught by Professor Crofin, a pleasant young woman with dimples. She started with the Second Wizarding War, which, chronologically, made no sense to me. The girl sitting next to me yawned and put her feet on her desk.
"Miss Carrow, kindly remove your feet from the desk. I'm sure you are exhausted from doing absolutely nothing last night, but this is a place of learning, not a preschool nap room." Crofin said disapprovingly. The girl rolled her eyes and swung her feet off the desk. However, she seemed ticked off and chewed her gum irritably.
The professor reluctantly resumed the lesson, and I tried my best to listen, although the Carrow girl was blowing large bubbles in her gum now, which was very distracting. Finally, I sighed and tore off the edge of my notes parchment, and scrawled:
Stop doing that, it's distracting and obnoxious.
I flicked it at her, annoyed, and continued taking notes. A few minutes later, something hit the back of my neck. It was a crumpled piece of parchment. I uncrumpled it, and it read:
Do you really think I care, Mudblood?
I sighed. My first insult at Hogwarts. Just peachy. I tried to focus my attention back on the lesson.
After class, I checked my schedule, and the girl came up beside me and shoved me to the ground. She then walked away, making sure to step on my timetable. She called over one shoulder; "I'm Amida Carrow. Nice to meet you. Not." She snickered and disappeared down the hall.
Sighing, I sat up and found a hand ready to help me. It was Emma. I took it gratefully and she hauled me up and started to help me gather my books.
"Real nice girl, isn't she?" I commented sarcastically, dusting off my timetable and putting it into my bag. Emma shrugged. We packed up my stuff and hauled it off to our next class.
"And that was pretty much what wrecked my whole day," I summed up to Lila in the Hufflepuff common room after a day filled with classed. Lila looked sympathetic and shrugged, dipping her quill in her bottle of ink. She wrote with bold, clear lines. My paper, on the other hand, was covered in ink blotches, and my quill had actually broken.
I took one look at my parchment, the last piece of homework I had to complete, and decided to finish in the morning. I put my stuff down on the table and started up the stairs to the girls' dorm, where I promptly collapsed on my bed.
Short chapter, but I ran out of inspiration.