Samara the Witch

Chapter Five

Samara walked down the stairs to the dungeons, feeling excited. That she was actually on her way to her first lesson in a magic school just seemed impossible to believe. For a moment she wondered if this was real, or if she wasn't really dreaming. It certainly seemed strange enough to be a dream and almost illogical enough. Maybe she really had died when she'd been thrown down that well three years ago, and this was the afterlife. It made just as much sense as this being a real magic school, she supposed, but she didn't really believe it, if only because she simply didn't want to believe that she was dead.

Distracted by her thoughts, Samara only just narrowly avoided walking into a wall.

"Watch where you're going, stupid!" called one Slytherin girl behind her. She and her friends were laughing, laughing at Samara. Laughing at her misfortune. She felt sudden rage broiling up inside her and clenched her fists tight enough to draw blood.

Suddenly the Slytherin girl screamed loudly and dropped to the floor with her hands held to her head. Her friends backed away from her, unsure of what to do. They looked around, as if expecting to find a teacher who could help them. The girl continued to scream and cry and writhe on the floor.

Samara knew that she was the one who was doing this. She wasn't doing it on purpose, but she was still doing it. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Maybe if she calmed herself down, she wouldn't be hurting the girl anymore. But there was a darker part of her that inwardly rejoiced at the girls pain. She deserved it for hurting her. But Samara didn't really believe that. She didn't want to hurt the girl, but she did it anyway. She couldn't prevent it.

Eventually the girl's screams turned to sobs and she even stood up and faced Samara.

"You...what did you do to me?" She cried. "What did you do!?"

Samara felt her heart sink. She wanted to tell her that she didn't do anything, that it wasn't her fault, but all she really did was run. She didn't want to see that girl again, she didn't want to see her in the pain that she had caused. This was supposed to stop. It had been getting better. But now she'd ruined it all by doing that.

All she wanted to do right now was curl up in bed, maybe try taking her anger out on inanimate objects rather than people. But she found the door to the potions classroom and walked inside. She was late, but she hoped that nobody would notice. She saw Natalie near the back of the class and sat down next to her.

"Are you alright?" Natalie asked when she saw her. "You look a bit upset."

"I'm fine," Samara said, her tone of voice slightly harder than she had intended. She couldn't tell Natalie what had happened in the hallway. She'd run away, call her a freak, just like everyone else used to. She wan't going to tell Natalie or John about things like that at least until she'd known them longer. She didn't want her new friends to run away from her before they'd even really got to know her.

Throughout the lesson, she tried to keep her mind off it and concentrate on taking notes, but that incident kept on returning to the forefront of her mind. What if things like that kept happening, and she would never be able to control it? She'd go insane eventually, she knew that. She couldn't live her whole life with no one there to help her. She remembered what had happened to Anna, her mother. She'd loved her, and had always been close to her. She'd never meant to hurt her. But she had done, and she couldn't make it stop. Anna had loved Samara dearly, and she had paid the price.

When the lesson ended, Samara couldn't be more overjoyed. She hurriedly packed away her books and walked out of the classroom, half running in her haste. She hoped this was going to get better soon, because she wouldn't be able to stand it if this was going to keep happening to her. If what had happened to Anna happened again.

...

The other lessons of the day were charms and transfiguration. These classes went a lot better, mainly because Samara didn't accidentally torture any Slytherins. Or any kids from other houses for that matter. She came out of transfiguration feeling a lot better than she had been earlier. She'd succeeded quite well in turning her match into a needle and she was now feeling quite satisfied with herself.

But when she walked into the Great Hall, her heart sank. The Slytherin girl she'd hurt earlier was right there by the door, standing in amongst a cluster of fifth years, watching as if they'd been waiting for her. The girl pointed her out and said something to the others who nodded. As she walked towards them, one of them grabbed her arm and threw her down. She stumbled and fell, catching herself with her palms and scraping them on the stone. At that moment, she felt pure anger. As she turned to face them, they shrank away, sensing the danger in her gaze.

"Maybe we should just leave her alone," one of the fifth year girls said to the younger girl, the one Samara had attacked earlier. Samara cocked her head and stared at them, tempted for a moment to hurt them again, to see them suffer. But she took a deep breath and forced herself to turn away. She walked into the hall, smiling slightly. None of them responded at all. Samara hadn't even hurt them. Somehow, that small triumph was enough to overcome her fear. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.