Sia had been hated before.
She had been ignored, dismissed, belittled.
But this was something else.
It started small. A shift in the air. The feeling of eyes tracking her movements in the common room, the hallways, the classrooms. Conversations would hush the moment she entered, only to be replaced by snickers and hushed whispers.
She had walked into this house expecting hostility.
But this—this sudden unified effort—was new.
She ignored it.
She had learned young that ignoring something long enough could make it go away.
Except this time, it didn't.
It began with the little things.
Her ink bottle had been switched for one filled with vanishing ink. She had written an entire two feet of Transfiguration notes, only to watch, horror-struck, as they disappeared right in front of her.
A mistake, she had told herself. Just a trick of the light.
She had rewritten them.
The next morning, her shoes had been charmed to squeak loudly with every step, earning laughter as she walked down the corridors.
Childish. Infuriatingly childish.
She had walked into the Great Hall with her head high, pretending not to hear.
But then the real humiliations had started.
Her goblet of pumpkin juice had upturned itself the moment she reached for it, drenching her in sticky liquid. The Marauders had stopped mid-conversation, their eyes flickering toward her. Andromeda had frowned.
Sia had stared at the mess, feeling the warmth of humiliation crawl up her spine.
Bellatrix had snickered.
"Clumsy, Ashford," Evan Rosier had called from further down the table, voice rich with amusement.
She had swallowed down the urge to snap back.
She had cleaned it up.
She had moved on.
But the pranks became worse.
Her bag had been stuck to the table in Charms, refusing to budge no matter how hard she pulled. The moment Flitwick had walked over, it had come loose suddenly, sending her sprawling onto the floor.
Laughter had erupted around her.
Her textbook pages had been glued together in Transfiguration.
Her Potions ingredients had been replaced with useless herbs, making her potion fizzle out in an embarrassing failure.
Her scarf had somehow tied itself into an unbreakable knot during a blizzard outside, forcing her to cut it off, exposing her neck to the bitter wind.
One morning, she had woken up to find that all her ties had vanished.
She had spent the day in a borrowed Gryffindor one.
And that, she knew, had been deliberate.
Bellatrix had nearly wept with laughter.
The Marauders had noticed.
Andromeda had tried to ask.
But Sia had waved it off.
She didn't need their concern.
She didn't need anyone.
She had been alone before.
She could do it again.
The worst part was the exhaustion.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
She barely slept, knowing something else would happen if she let herself be too vulnerable.
She started locking her trunk.
Double-checking her food.
Keeping her wand in her hand at all times.
She had thought she was good at enduring.
That she was untouchable.
That she had built walls high enough to keep everything out.
But this was different.
This was not one person.
This was an entire house, moving like a pack, working together to drive her into the ground.
And the worst part?
She had no proof.
No names to pin the crimes to.
No evidence.
She could feel the eyes watching her, waiting, hoping to see her snap.
She didn't.
At least, not outwardly.
But the worst of it came in the girl's bathroom.
It had started as a routine humiliation. A hex to lock the stall door behind her, leaving her banging against the wood. When she had finally blasted it open, she had walked straight into a Levicorpus spell, flipping her upside down mid-step.
Her head slammed against the ceiling. The world tilted.
Laughter.
A dozen faces blurred in her upside-down vision.
Emily Caerow stood in the front, wand raised, her face twisted in amusement. "Oh, look at that. The little genius."
Sia grit her teeth, her robes hanging over her head, her hair swaying beneath her.
Bellatrix's voice cut through the laughter. "Wonder what would happen if we just… left her like that."
A cold feeling curled in Sia's gut.
She knew what that meant.
This wasn't just a prank.
They were testing boundaries.
Seeing how far they could go.
Her blood rushed to her head. Her magic clawed beneath her skin, lashing against the unseen binds that held her suspended.
The laughter wavered.
Emily lowered her wand slightly, suddenly hesitant.
"This is stupid," Emily muttered, her voice shaking. "Let's go."
Bellatrix scoffed. "What, afraid of a little fun?"
Emily hesitated. Her hand trembled.
Sia saw it.
And she laughed.
It was an ugly, cold thing, bitter and sharp.
"Coward," she spat, her voice hoarse.
Emily's face twisted. "Shut up."
"You started this. What, afraid of losing your shiny little badge?"
Emily paled.
Sia saw it. The fear. The hesitation.
She was winning.
A second later, her body lurched. The spell broke.
She crashed onto the floor in a heap, her limbs stiff from being suspended for so long.
She didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't let them see how much it had shaken her.
She pushed herself up, hands steady, face blank.
And she walked past them.
The corridor was spinning.
Her stomach churned.
But she didn't stop.
But inside—
Inside, something burned.
A simmering, twisting anger.
A deep, aching humiliation.
And a hatred—cold and slow and precise.
Because she knew exactly who had started this.
Severus.
He had promised her hell.
And now, he was watching it unfold with that blank, unreadable expression, offering neither help nor participation.
Just watching.
Like a predator waiting for the moment she finally fell.
She hated him for it.
She hated that she had let herself be pulled into his game.
That she had let him win.
But she would not break.
She would never break.
It was Friday night when she finally had enough.
She had walked into her dormitory, expecting peace.
Instead, she had found her bed completely stripped.
No blankets. No pillows.
The mattress itself was gone.
The laughter from the other girls had been casual, cruel.
"Oh dear," one had drawled. "Looks like you'll have to sleep on the floor."
Sia had stared at them, blood pounding in her ears.
Not this.
Not sleep.
Sleep was the only moment she could escape. The only place she could breathe.
And now—
Now even that was gone.
She inhaled slowly, evenly, forcing her hands to stay at her sides.
"Right," she said flatly. "Hilarious."
She turned on her heel and walked out.
Through the common room.
Out the door.
Past Severus, who had been sitting near the fire, book open, eyes tracking her movements.
She ignored him.
She didn't stop walking until she reached the Entrance Hall.
She didn't know where she was going.
She just needed to breathe.
To think.
To figure out what now.
Because this—this was too much.
This was a breaking point.
And she didn't know what would happen when she finally shattered.