Samara the Witch

Chapter Ten

The weather was getting colder now. Samara didn't mind. She'd never much liked the summer. Autumn was firmly upon the Hogwarts grounds, with the leaves in the trees turning to gold and red, and more rain falling all the time. It was almost always muddy now. Halfway through October, Samara had been here for nearly two months. Only two months, and Hogwarts was already far more of a home to her than her home with the Morgans had ever been. She'd been spending a lot of time with Lucretia recently. Natalie seemed to be avoiding her. Samara couldn't help but wonder if she'd scared her somehow. At least she'd barely seen Artemis. Not seeing Artemis was always a good thing. Artemis was everything Samara had come here to get away from.

She was outside now, with Lucretia and Mallory. Mallory's cat was up in the Gryffindor tower, since Mallory wouldn't let her near Samara. Samara felt a little bad about Mallory not seeing her cat much now, but it wasn't like she was forcing Mallory to spend time with her. To tell the truth, Samara didn't know why Mallory was here. She thought it could be because she felt sorry for her, thought she was lonely. The thought annoyed her a little, but she didn't mind really. She was lonely, if only a bit. She'd never had much contact with other people, because they were always so afraid of her. Because of that, she didn't really know how to communicate with other people very well.

The three of them were sitting on a picnic blanket Mallory had managed to find, under a tree. Not they needed the shade much on a cold, overcast day like today. Samara wondered if it was cold enough to snow. She'd like it to snow. Maybe they could build a snowman. And maybe they were a bit old for that, at eleven, but Samara didn't care. She hadn't been able to do things like that for a long time.

"It's getting late," Lucretia said. "Maybe we should head back to the castle."

Samara didn't really want to go back, but she got to her feet and brushed the dirt off her clothes. She preferred being outside to being in the castle. Inside, it was too loud, too crowded, too warm. She walked back up to the castle slowly, barely wanting to leave her spot under the tree. It was so much better there, away from all the people. But she had to go back to the castle at some point. At least there was food there, although she hated having to sit at the house tables. Her friends were in Gryffindor and Slytherin; most of her fellow Ravenclaw's weren't friends of hers. They got along all right, mostly, but she hadn't really befriended any. She just didn't know how.

She saw Natalie while she was there. She was sitting a little way down the table, and getting up every so often to whisper to Artemis. Samara ignored them. Well, she tried to ignore them. Actually, she hung on their every word. Every whisper about her, every giggle, burned her to the core. She clenched her fists, trying hard to rein in the anger building up inside of her. Nothing good would come of that. She was learning how to use her power—her magic—to do good things now, instead of hurting people. She wanted to do good things. She wanted to be good. Why was that so hard?

She ate her food. She picked at it, barely tasting it. She didn't want to be here right now, in the Great Hall. Mealtimes were her least favourite times of day. She wanted to be outside with Lucretia. Or in her lessons. Most eleven-year-olds weren't excited for their lessons, Samara knew that, but most eleven-year-olds didn't go to magic schools. And the lessons were so useful to Samara—learning how to cast spells had given her an outlet for her magical power, allowed her to gain control over it. That was worth more than she could ever hope to express.

She felt a poke on her shoulder and whirled around, her body reacting before her mind had even a chance to. Before she knew it, she saw Mallory on the ground, cowering. Samara wasn't sure what had happened. She'd thought it was Artemis, or someone like her. She'd reacted in order to defend herself. But she didn't need to defend herself from Mallory. She wanted to run away. Never see Mallory again, never admit she'd done anything wrong. But that was stupid. That was what she would have done three years ago, but she was older now. She was supposed to be smarter too.

She knelt down beside Mallory. "Are you okay?"

"I-I think so..." Mallory said. She got up, wincing slightly.

Samara narrowed her eyes. "You're hurt."

"I just scraped my knee. I do that a lot. I'm fine, okay. I'm mostly just startled. And I guess you were too."

"Uh, yeah. That was why I attacked you... I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to."

Mallory smiled. "It's okay Samara, really. I know you didn't mean it. I made you jump. Sorry about that."

Samara didn't respond. She was confused. Why was Mallory still being nice to her? Why hadn't she turned on her yet? She must be waiting, Samara decided. Biding her time. That made sense to her. People did that sometimes, didn't they? They waited until later before they got revenge. They tricked you, made them think they were you're friend, then they turned on you later.

"I have to go," Samara said. She walked past, Mallory staring after her. She didn't know where she was going. She just knew she had to get away from the chaos of the Great Hall.

As she walked through the corridor, tears gathered in her eyes. She got that stinging behind her nose. She ignored all of them. She didn't care if she cried here like a baby. She didn't know why this was bothering her so much. She'd been through worse than this—her own mother had thrown her down a well. So why was she so worried about this? Maybe Mallory didn't like her anymore. So what? What was she going to do? She couldn't hurt Samara. Samara knew that. No one could hurt her—she was too powerful. If anyone really came close to hurting her, they'd end up dead soon enough. Samara didn't really want to hurt anyone, definitely didn't want to kill them. But if it would keep her safe...

She sat down finally, leaning against the wall. She needed a rest. She felt like she'd walked miles. She didn't know where she was now.

"What are you doing here?"

Samara turned her head to see Lucretia standing nearby. She looked fearsome. Her blonde hair was wild. The look in her eyes was feral. She stood with her hands on her hips, looking straight at Samara.

"Wh-what... do you mean?" Samara felt like she was being put on the spot. Why was Lucretia talking to her? Couldn't she tell she wanted to be left alone?

"You just left. Without hardly saying a thing. Mallory's worried about you. To be honest, I think she's being kind of stupid. You don't need worrying about. But she's really stressed. There's something going on with you, and I don't know what it is. You know what? I don't care. But you can't just leave like that."

"I don't know what you mean. Mallory won't be worried about me. She'll want to hurt me, to laugh at me, like they always do."

"Like who always does? Samara... what are you talking about?"

Samara glared up at Lucretia. She knew. How could she not know? How could she ask what Samara was talking about? It made perfect sense. She hurt people, they wanted to hurt her back. There was nothing else to it.

"Samara, I don't know what you think, but Mallory really does want to see you. She's not afraid of you, and she definitely doesn't want to hurt you. Really, have you met Mallory? She wouldn't hurt a fly if it raised an army of the dead against her."

Samara's lip curled into a smile, despite her trying to stay composed. "So, exactly how and why would a fly raise an army of the dead against Mallory?"

"Simple," Lucretia said. "Mallory annoys the fly with her obnoxious niceness. So the fly retaliates. It knows that she's afraid of corpses, so it raised Inferi to fight her with, because it's only a fly, so it can't do a whole lot by itself."

"Is Mallory afraid of corpses?"

Lucretia shrugged. "I have no idea. I was just making up a story. Come on, come with me. You're going to go to Lucretia, and tell her you're okay, because she's worried. Seriously, that girl must have something wrong with her. She cares about people way to much."

Samara got to her feet, still drying tears from her eyes, still trying to hide them from Lucretia. It wasn't working. She followed behind Lucretia as they walked back to the Great Hall. It was almost empty now, most people having long since finished eating and returned to their common rooms. Samara didn't want to go back. She felt that Lucretia had to be wrong. Mallory couldn't want to see her.

But she was quickly proven wrong. Mallory had been waiting at the Gryffindor table with some friends—Samara had met them but couldn't quite remember their names. When Mallory saw Samara and Lucretia approaching, she ran up to them.

"You're all right, then?" Mallory said, smiling.

Samara was speechless. Why was Mallory still trying to be kind to her? She shouldn't be. She should be lashing out. But she was being just as nice as always.

"She's fine," Lucretia answered for her. "She thought you were angry at her."

"I wouldn't be angry at her!" Mallory protested. "It wasn't her fault. It was me who just went up to her and poked her shoulder. I guess I didn't realise she'd be so jumpy..."

Samara had trouble understanding what was happening. Was Mallory really not angry at her? That seemed to good to be true. Maybe it was.

She stayed with Lucretia and Mallory for a while, still feeling a little confused, but happier. She was realising now that she understood people even less than she thought she did.

She saw Natalie in the common room. Neither of them spoke to each other. Samara just walked past. She could feel Natalie watching her every step of the way. What was she going to do? Probably nothing. It wasn't worth Samara worrying about. She lay down on her bed, curling up in the covers. She wasn't going to sleep, but she liked the feeling of being comfortable under the quilt, ensconced in the safety of the four-poster bed.