𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑 - 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿

vii.

That week Zara decided that she had had enough.

Much to her regret, and to the regret of many other students, Professor Grubbly-Plank had finally been replaced by Rubeus Hagrid, who was returning from Merlin knew where —not that Zara was too interested to ask. It wasn't that she disliked the half-giant, but she definitely wasn't a big fan of his classes; while Draco Malfoy wasn't her cup of tea, it was a bit dangerous that someone always got hurt. Still, she had shot withering glances at Dolores Umbridge when she had strutted with her foul half-smile on her lips around the students, looking for any excuse to discredit the professor.

Then she had been joined by Parkinson's hurtful comment, who despite not thinking much of her, managed to get her off her rocker with insulting ease. "Miss Markey, is it?" Umbridge had asked, standing beside her as she smiled and held the quill. Zara had merely nodded. "Can you tell me how you like Professor Hagrid's classes, do you think you're learning anything?" she asked.

Zara opened her mouth to answer, defending Hagrid because she knew he was held in high esteem by many of her friends, but Pansy Parkinson was quicker to open her big mouth. "Don't exactly ask her, Professor Umbridge, because she's repeated a year. She clearly never learns anything," Pansy found it hard to say without laughing openly in front of the rest of the students. Zara clenched her fists in fury and bit her tongue, for she knew that if she spoke, she would be in for at least two weeks of detention. Umbridge clicked her tongue at the comment and walked away, her heels sinking into the damp ground and making a disgusting noise.

"Don't pay her any mind," Ron whispered near her, turning to check that none of the Slytherins were around. "They're just trying to provoke you."

"Whatever. She's right, anyway," Zara merely replied back, losing herself among the rest of the students and walking away from the golden trio, who shared complicit but sad looks.

Zara had spent that afternoon cooped up in her room, thankful that none of her classmates had a life as bitter as hers to spend the day in bed. She folded her arms and stared at the ceiling for a long moment, wondering if she really was as stupid as Pansy had painted her. She knew better than to listen to the comments of that group of gits, but when they picked on her insecurities it was a different story. She'd had a hard enough time that summer with repeating her year and Cedric's death, without Pansy coming along and laughing at her in front of everyone.

And, to top it all off, the way the week had ended had been horrible. The last class before Dumbledore's Army Christmas break had been a disaster. Zara had been dragging all her troubles and aches and pains from the week, so her Impedimentas had been no success —luckily, this time Ron had decided to be brave and pair up with Hermione, so Zara had been with Neville, who wasn't exactly shining in his abilities either.

She had been extremely happy inside when Harry had declared that it was the end of the session, and that maybe after the holidays they could start on something more exciting, like their Patronuses. Zara came out first, but with all the hubbub of the others and the mess in her head, she realised that she had forgotten to grab her jacket. However, when she peeked her head back into the room, Harry and Cho were kissing and her vision blurred momentarily. She decided that she would get a better jacket, or retrieve it when she returned, but she refused to go in.

So she ran through the corridors, but not in the direction of the Common Room, but to the first floor. It was cold, it was already December, and without the jacket she had just lost, going outside the castle was a mistake: first, because they might see her and punish her; second, because she might catch a cold, and hearing her parents talk about her cold at Christmas was not something she was looking forward to. But she didn't know where else to go, or what else to do, so she made her way slyly to the Quidditch pitch, hiding momentarily behind the bleachers and the stands so that no one could see her —in case anyone was around.