Pansy woke early the next morning, most other students still fast asleep. She had always been an early riser, preferring the quiet hours of the morning before the noise of the day began. She dressed quickly, smoothing down her uniform and ensuring her Slytherin tie was knotted perfectly. Checking her appearance one last time in the mirror, she nodded to herself and exited the room.
As she walked into the Great Hall, the quiet chatting of scattered students filled the mostly empty room. The morning light slowly filtered through the tall, narrow windows, casting long shadows on the stone walls. She noticed Professor McGonagall at the Gryffindor table, handing out pieces of parchment.
"Good morning, Miss Parkinson," McGonagall said, looking up as Pansy approached. Her gaze was sharp, but there was a touch of warmth in her voice.
"Good morning, Professor," Pansy replied, taking the parchment from the professor's hand.
Pansy scanned the parchment, her brows furrowing slightly at the increased workload. The first lesson was Potions with the Gryffindor's, which she was not particularly thrilled about, followed by Defense Against the Dark Arts. The afternoon promised a double Transfiguration class.
"Make sure you're prepared for this term," McGonagall advised, her gaze firm. "Your O.W.L.s are important, Miss Parkinson. Don't neglect your studies."
"I won't, Professor," Pansy reassured her, although she couldn't help but feel a knot of apprehension twisting in her stomach at the mention of the impending exams.
As Pansy sat down to eat, Lady swooped down from the rafters, landing gracefully in front of her, carrying a letter around her leg. Pansy smiled, reaching out to untie the letter, rewarding Lady with a piece of bacon. She unfurled the letter, beginning to read:
Dear Pansy,
Honestly, I can't get over the fact that I'm writing to you like this.This whole owl-post thing is quite charming in a quirky sort of way. Lady is such a sweetheart. I swear it's like she understands me. Yesterday, when I told her to fly safely, she bobbed her head as if nodding! It's incredibly strange but also kind of wonderful.
Speaking of wonderful things, you'll laugh at this - we had a customer yesterday, a man in his mid-thirties, sheepishly asking for a book about parenting. When I asked if he was looking for something specific, he blushed and muttered, 'Er... for first-time moms?'
I found him a book called 'What to Expect When You're Expecting.' He seemed grateful. When I congratulated him he very quickly sai
"It's for my sister,". I could see the bright red blush creeping up his neck. The poor man was so embarrassed, I've seen him around before, always quiet and unassuming. Seeing him blush was the highlight of my day!
I miss you already, Pansy. The shop seems a little duller without your sarcastic remarks and constant eye rolls. Take care of yourself and make sure to study hard (although I have no doubts about your academic abilities, considering your fancy 'School for the gifted' and all). I can't wait to hear back from you!
Emily
Pansy couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. She was about to fold the letter when she noticed a postscript at the bottom:
P.S. Lady seemed to enjoy the bits of chicken I found for her. She's welcome anytime.
Pansy chuckled, tucking the letter into her uniform. She looked up to see Lady preening her feathers, a satisfied look in her eyes. "You did well, Lady," she murmured, stroking the owl's head.
Entering the DADA classroom, Pansy noted the almost immediate shift in atmosphere. The students fell into an uneasy hush as Professor Umbridge entered the room, her frilly pink outfit contrasting sharply with the room's otherwise dark decor
"Good morning, class," she chirped, swishing her wand making stacks of textbooks, filled with dry theoretical text, float down the aisles, landing with a soft thump on each student's desk.
"I am sure you will all be pleased to know that the previous, shall we say, uneven instruction you have received in this subject will be a thing of the past. We will be following a Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year"
Granger's hand shot up immediately. Umbridge acknowledged her with a nod, "Yes?"
"There's nothing in this book about using defensive spells," Granger stated, her brows furrowing.
"Using spells?" Umbridge simply smiled. "My dear, i can't imagine why you would need to use spells in my classroom."
"We're not going to use magic?" Weasley interjected then, his tone full of disbelief
"We will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way," Umbridge said, walking towards her desk
At this, Potter scoffed. "What's the use in that? If we are attacked, it won't be risk-free."
Umbridge turned to face him, her smile tightening. "Students will raise their hands in my class," she said sweetly.
"It is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be sufficient to get you through your examinations, which after all, is what school is all about."
"And how's theory supposed to prepare us for what's out there?" Harry asked, his voice filled with a barely concealed frustration.
"There is nothing 'out there', Mr. Potter. Who do you imagine would attack children like yourself?" Umbridge retorted, a note of amusement in her voice.
"Oh, I don't know," Harry said sarcastically, "Maybe, Lord Voldemort?"
The classroom went deadly silent. A change could be seen come over Umbridge, her smile fading as she regarded Potter with a cool, measured gaze, before turning to the rest of the class. "Now, let me make this quite plain. You have been told that a certain... dark wizard is at large again. This. is. a. lie."
"It's not a lie!" Harry protested, "I saw him. I fought him!"
"Detention, Mr. Potter," Umbridge snapped.
"What, so you think Cedric just dropped dead of his own accord?" Harry asked, his voice trembling with anger.
"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," Umbridge replied, her voice cold.
Potter persisted, his voice full of fury, "It wasn't an accident, it was murder! Voldemort killed him!"
"Enough!" Umbridge shouted. "That's enough! I will have order! Mr. Potter, another word and it will be a week's worth of detention!" And walked back behind her desk.
The rest of the class passed in a tense silence, Umbridge covering dry theory while completely ignoring any further questions. Pansy left the class, feeling a mix of relief and unease. The clear divide between what the Ministry wanted them to believe and what Potter insisted was the truth left her with an uncomfortable knot in her stomach.
Pansy was tired. It was an hour past curfew, having just finished her patrol. The corridors were silent, save for the occasional whisper of wind outside the windows. All she wanted was to head back to her room and get some rest.
Rounding a corner, she came to an abrupt halt. There, in front of the entrance to the common room, was a small figure huddled against the stone wall. Drawing closer, she recognized the red-haired first year. The girl was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped tightly around her legs.
She was a tiny thing, easily overlooked if not for her flaming red hair. She looked exhausted, her eyes closed and head on her knees. She didn't seem to notice Pansy's approach.
Pansy stood beside her, looking down at the small girl, the sight of her there, alone and obviously upset, made Pansy's heart clench. Pansy cleared her throat, causing the girl to flinch violently and look up. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, making Pansy suspect she'd been crying.
Pansy crossed her arms."What are you doing here, it's well past curfew?" She asked, her tone more curious than accusatory.
"I-I" the girl stammered, looking scared. "I for-forgot t-the password."
Pansy looked at her skeptically, the stuttering explanation sounded questionable at best. Still, she decided not to question it any further. After all, it was none of her business. Or so she tried to convince herself.
With a sigh, she opened the entrance to the common room and ushered the little girl inside. "Alright, get in."
The girl scrambled to her feet and hurried inside. Pansy followed her, feeling an uncomfortable weight in her chest as she watched the girl go towards her room.
After the redhead disappeared quickly up the stairs, Pansy climbed the stairs in a more sedate tempo, hoping for a good night's sleep. However, despite the softness of her bed and the warmth of the thick green blankets, sleep eluded her.
Pansy lay in her bed, staring at the dark ceiling. She tried to clear her mind and focus on the calming rhythm of her own breath, but her thoughts kept circling back to the little redhead.
She wanted to help, but she didn't know how. Even thinking about it was a risk. If her parents found out she was even considering helping a Muggleborn... Pansy shuddered at the thought.
She cast a quick 'Tempus' to see what time it is and realised she's been tossing and turning for near an hour. With a sigh of frustration, Pansy swung her legs out from under the covers, got up from the bed and went to her desk, pulling out parchment, a quill and an inkwell.
She needed advice, a second opinion, and there was only one person she could think of to ask.
Biting her lip, she thought for a moment before she began to write:
Dear Emily,
I know this is sudden, and I apologize for burdening you with my problems. But I find myself in need of a second opinion, and as sad as it sounds, I don't really have anyone else.
There is a girl at my school who is being bullied. She's an commoner, you see. She doesn't have the prestige and money a lot of the other people here have, getting into the school purely by her own abilities. Because of that, they isolate her. She is sweet and innocent and doesn't deserve the harsh treatment she's receiving.
I want to help her, but the consequences of doing so could be severe for me. My family... they wouldn't approve. There's a chance they might disown me if they found out I was even talking to her, let alone actively helping her.
I feel like a coward, Emily. I watch her being bullied, and I do nothing. I see the bright smile she used to have slowly fading away, and I feel responsible. It's been a little over two weeks since the term started, and I haven't seen the bright, excited smile she wore at the opening feast since.
I don't know what to do. Please, Emily, if you have any advice, I'd be grateful.
Sincerely,
Pansy
She reread the letter, then folded it carefully and placed it in an envelope.
As Pansy leaned back in her chair she looked at the folded letter on her desk, a heaviness settled in her chest. The silence of the dormitory was almost eerie. She glanced at her sleeping dorm mates beds, their soft snores filling the air, knowing that she should wait till morning to send the letter. After a moment's thought, she rose from the chair with a decisive nod, tucking the letter into her pocket and made her way towards the door.
Slipping on a cloak, she quietly exited the room, careful not to wake the others. The common room was completely deserted at this hour. Making sure to avoid any creaky floorboards, Pansy made her way out of the Slytherin dungeons and into the dimly lit corridors of the castle.
The castle was almost unrecognizable at night, the normally bustling hallways now shrouded in a heavy silence. She met no-one on her way to the Owlery, which was just the way she preferred it.
As Pansy entered the drafty tower, she found that all the owls were asleep, the soft cooing and rustling of feathers the only sound in the room. Her eyes scanned the room, finally landing on a familiar figure, perched on a high beam, her eyes closed in sleep, a peaceful Lok on her face. She treaded lightly, careful not to wake the slumbering owls.
Pansy carefully climbed up the ladder, feeling a pang of guilt as she reached out to gently shake Lady awake. "Lady," she whispered, gently ruffling her feathers. Her owl stirred, blinking sleepily at her. Pansy stroked her head gently, "I'm sorry to wake you, Lady. But I have an important letter. If you're too tired, it can wait till tomorrow."
But Lady seemed to understand. She gave Pansy's finger a gentle nip and extended her leg for the letter. A small smile touched Pansy's lips. Attaching the letter securely, she gave Lady a soft kiss on her beak. "You're such a sweet girl," she murmured.
Lady nuzzled against the side of Pansy's head affectionately, her soft feathers brushing against her cheek. Pansy pressed another gentle kiss to the space between Lady's eyes, her heart filled with gratitude for her faithful companion.
With a rustle of feathers, Lady took off into the night sky, the letter bound securely to her leg.
Pansy watched until she was out of sight, then turned to make her way back to her room, her heart a little lighter.
Emily was just finishing a late breakfast when a soft tapping sound drew her attention. Glancing towards the source, she smiled as she saw Lady waiting at the window. "Good morning, Lady," Opening it, she welcomed the pretty owl inside, Lady nipping affectionately at her fingers.
Emily untied the parchment from the owls leg, stroking her feathers a few times before saying, "You're early today." Lady simply blinked her eyes and settled on Emily's table, seemingly content to wait.
Curiously, she opened the envelope and began to read Pansy's letter. As she read, her smile slowly faded, replaced by a look of concern. She was quiet for a while after she finished reading, deep in thought.
With a sigh, Emily sat down at her kitchen table, the parchment rustling in her hands as she read the letter again. She took a moment to collect her thoughts before she began to write her reply.
Dear Pansy,
Thank you for trusting me with this. I know it's not easy to ask for help, especially in a situation as delicate as this.
Let's examine the options you've given me. To help the girl or to ignore her treatment.
Firstly, there's the option of not intervening. I understand your fears, Pansy. There's a degree of safety in inaction, in continuing with life as it is. But from your letter, I can see that not helping feels wrong to you, and it's clearly causing you a great deal of distress. If you choose not to help her, you will protect yourself from your family's potential fury. It's a safe choice, and one that most people in your situation might make. But it's clear from your letter that you don't want to make this choice. You feel guilty and responsible for this girl, and not doing anything might bring you more pain than you're willing to admit.
Then there's the option of helping her openly, of standing up against the bullies. I can see the appeal in this, the nobility of it. However, this carries the greatest risk. You could be ostracized, or worse, punished by your family. You also risk your future and your family. It's a brave choice, but a dangerous one. And I cannot in good conscience advise you to risk so much.
I understand why both these options might not seem great to you.
The thing is Pansy, life is rarely so black and white. I think you've been so indecisive about whether to help her or not, you've missed the fact that it's not as simple as doing something or doing nothing. There's a wide spectrum of possibilities in between
So let me give you a third option. Help her in a more indirect way. Maybe you could start by just being there for her, spend time with her when no one else is around, or teach her things she might not know. You don't necessarily have to confront the bullies. Simply showing her kindness, talking to her when you can, or even offering her a smile could mean a lot. It would let her know she's not alone. It's a middle ground, a way to help without drawing attention to yourself.
In my opinion, you should consider this third option. It allows you to help, to lessen the guilt you're feeling, while also minimizing the risk to yourself.
Of course, this option is not risk-free. There's a chance you could be found out, and you'd have to face the consequences. But it would allow you to help without openly defying your family.
Ultimately, Pansy, the decision is yours. I can't tell you what the best course of action is. You're the only one who knows what you're willing to risk.
No matter what you choose, know that I'm here for you.
Emily
Emily sealed the letter and attached it to a pigeon. She hoped her words would offer Pansy some comfort and guidance. She could only imagine how hard it must be for her friend, caught between her conscience and her fear of her family's disapproval