Forty-One

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The rumours in Hogwarts never seemed to stop. For days, the whole castle seemed occupied with talk of Jane Gibbs and her absence in classes, but now, everyone was talking about Scorpius Malfoy, acting so unlike himself in front of half the Slytherin house, and Annabeth Pucey, who had ended up being the one to spread all the rumours about Jane in the first place, and how she had some secrets of her own Scorpius knew and wouldn't share with the rest of them.

The first few days following the fight in the common room were the worst for Annabeth. Whispers seemed to follow her wherever she walked, ideas of what secrets she could be hiding heard across every corner, one suggestion wilder than the next. For once, she was victim of what she had sentenced so many people before. She found it dreadful.

She got closed off, didn't speak unless necessary in class, didn't really look people in the eye, and even Charlotte's company beside her wasn't enough to cheer her up. She was nothing like the girl everyone in the school knew, although the people that had pushed her into this weren't showing any guilt at her predicament.

Scorpius and Albus, the ones who had brought her to this, were evidently unbothered by the turn of events. The rumours didn't scare them, didn't take residence in their minds, and after all the times it had happened, they could now ignore them with no issue. They kept living their days the way they always did, and those who hadn't seen them that night in the Slytherin common room could hardly believe anything had happened. Ramona, usually by their side, seemed unbothered as well, and if one looked at the company, they would have never guessed anything had transpired at all.

If they looked better, though, they would realise there was something off with them too. They would be able to see it in the way they always left a spare seat beside one of them for a person that never showed up, they would notice in the sudden silence that fell over them in random times, the way their smiles didn't really last that long. Someone was missing. They, too, however, were battling with their own mind.

Jane couldn't bring herself to leave her dormitory. She studied on her own, prepared herself for the exams coming near as well as she could, but when her mind wasn't occupied, her memories kept replaying the moment she couldn't cast a Patronus and then she would remember the moment she had been told she wouldn't be playing Quidditch again.

It had come to the point when she could no longer cry. She felt numb, as if there was no purpose in doing most things. She had missed quite some Prefect rounds and choir practices but she couldn't bring herself to bother.

Jane was good, excellent even, at all subjects she chose. It was why she had been appointed Prefect, after all, and she used her skills and talents to her benefit. She had auditioned for the frog choir the moment she knew they were accepting members, wishing to be part of every project the castle had to offer. She had loved the choir at first but then it had only gotten repetitive and bothersome. Looking for something else to do, something to energise herself, Jane had thought of Quidditch years ago.

She had been accepted into the team even though she hadn't had her own broomstick, the lack of money forcing her to use a broomstick the school provided. It wasn't even half as good as the broomsticks of her classmates but Jane's talent was enough for her broomstick's lack of skill, and so she had made the team. And the moment she had taken to the Pitch in her first game, with her classmates chanting her name, the adrenaline pumping in her veins as she cooperated with her teammates and scored goal after goal, was enough to make her love the sport.

It only got better when she managed to gather enough money from all the years she had been working for her neighbours, running little errands here and there, to buy a broomstick of her own. She had had no money then, but she had had a broomstick, one that wasn't even a new model, but it was better than the school's broomstick she had been using nonetheless, and that was enough for her.

Glory |A. Potter|Where stories live. Discover now