Chapter Five: Failure to settle

Chapter Summary: After Draka's betrayal, Henri is having just a little bit of trouble settling in.

Henri sat in the back of the Transfiguration classroom, his wand resting on the desk in front of him. Professor McGonagall's voice filled the room as she instructed the class on the day's lesson: turning a matchstick into a needle. Most of the students struggled, some managing only to make the match tremble or change color, but Henri had already completed the task within minutes. His matchstick was now a perfectly sharpened needle, glinting under the torch-lit classroom.

He should have felt proud. After all, he was the only one who had managed it so far, and McGonagall had awarded Ravenclaw ten points for his effort. His housemates had patted him on the back and whispered about how talented he was, but none of it reached him. The praise felt hollow, and the excitement that had filled him during the first few lessons had long since faded.

Classes, which had initially been a source of excitement, now bored him. He finished his assignments quickly, leaving him with nothing to do but dwell on his loneliness. The more he learned, the easier the lessons became. Now, he simply sat there, bored and distant, with nothing to do but think.

And when Henri thought, it was always about the same things: the isolation that hung over him like a cloud, the constant feeling of being unwanted, and, most of all, Draka.

He had met her on the train. He had thought he made a friend that day, someone he could trust, someone like him. But she wasn't. She had made that clear in the cruelest way possible, and since then, she and her group had made his life at Hogwarts a living nightmare. Every time he saw them, his heart clenched in fear, knowing they'd hurl insults at him, call him a mudblood, and sneer as if he were beneath them. Worse, they'd started aiming hexes his way—spells they were just beginning to learn but hurled in his direction with the reckless cruelty of spoiled children who knew no consequences for their actions. None of the spells had landed yet, and even if they did, they would be ineffectual—their wandwork and incantations needed improvement—but Henri knew it was only a matter of time.

Henri knew more spells than they did. He was sure that if he were to retaliate, his spells would not only be effective but also hit their intended targets. He was naturally inclined toward academics and had a passion for books. He had already earned Ravenclaw a ton of points through his achievements and was always the first to master a new spell.

So Henri knew he stood a chance in a magical duel against his bullies. But he just couldn't bring himself to fight back. He was naturally a pacifist and had never been in a fight in his life. He didn't know the first thing about fighting. The other reason he never fought back was Draka. Her betrayal had messed with his mind. He hated her and her cruel friends but couldn't bring himself to fight her. No matter how cruel she got, he couldn't raise his wand against her. He started wondering if maybe he was the coward she called him.

And so he hid. He hid in the library, in empty classrooms, in corners of the castle where he hoped they wouldn't find him. He took different routes to class, sometimes arriving late, always leaving early. His stomach was in knots, constantly on edge, waiting for the next attack.

Henri was so lonely. His interactions with other students were a mix of fleeting kindness and awkward distance. His housemates were kind to him and certainly appreciated and admired his academic prowess, often complimenting him on his achievements. But no matter how many points he earned or how much they praised his talent, Henri couldn't shake the loneliness that gnawed at him. They liked him, sure, but they didn't know him. No one did.

The more he kept to himself, the harder it became to break through the walls he had started to build. He didn't want to keep to himself, but the incident with Draka had shattered his confidence and was slowly chipping away at his self-esteem, bit by bit, like water eroding stone. Each insult, each sneer, each narrowly avoided hex left him feeling smaller, weaker, and more insignificant. It was easier to stay quiet, to remain hidden in the shadows, rather than risk getting hurt again. He felt invisible, like he was floating through the corridors without anyone truly seeing him.

His roommates were friendly enough, but they had their own friendships, their own bonds that he couldn't seem to join. At night, he could hear them talking quietly to each other after lights out, laughter and whispers shared between friends. He would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his loneliness settle over him like a blanket. He longed to be part of their world, but something inside him held him back.

In the common room, he would sometimes find himself in the middle of a group conversation, but he often felt like an outsider looking in. There were various offers to join study groups or games, but Henri's newly developed fear of rejection kept him from fully engaging. He would politely decline, citing the need to study or finish homework, even though he had already completed it.

During meals in the Great Hall, he'd sit and listen to the chatter and laughter of the other students. He would smile and nod, but his mind was elsewhere, preoccupied. Occasionally, a fellow Ravenclaw would try to draw him into a conversation, asking about his interests or his life before Hogwarts. Henri would respond politely, but his answers were brief, and the conversation would soon fizzle out.

Henri had never felt this low in his short life. His life before had been very happy, filled with the warmth of family and friendship. Sure, he had failed to make friends at his muggle primary school when they moved to England, but no one bullied him, and he went home every day to his Maman and Papa, who welcomed him with all the love in the world. But now, here at Hogwarts, in what was supposed to be the most magical place in the world, he had never felt so utterly alone.

His heart ached with the weight of his isolation. He longed for a friend, someone to confide in, but the fear of rejection and further bullying kept him silent. Each day felt like an endless struggle, and he wondered how much longer he could endure the torment. The walls of Hogwarts, once filled with promise and wonder, now felt like a prison, trapping him in his own despair.

The only highlight was mail day. It always warmed his heart to receive word from home. His maman's kind words and treats never failed to lift his spirits, but even that was slowly being tainted. He didn't tell his parents about Draka—he couldn't—it was too terrible; his Maman would only worry, and he didn't want that. But every time he sent a letter claiming to be happy and enjoying his time at Hogwarts, he felt guilty. He had never lied to his parents before this, and he hated how it made him feel.

Henri's isolation was most evident during free periods. While other students gathered in groups, laughing and chatting, Henri would find a quiet corner of the library or a secluded spot by the lake. He would bury himself in books, trying to escape the reality of his loneliness. The few times he ventured into more social settings, he felt out of place, his anxiety making it hard to relax and enjoy the company of others.