AUTOPHOBIA - G. WEASLEY

First year: January Blues

✯ CHAPTER ELEVEN ✯

❝You worry about my problems.❞

"W-werewolves," stuttered out Professor Quirrel, his eyes skimming across the tired looking class the next morning. "Dangerous, h-horrible creatures. That's what I will b-be-be teaching you about t-today."

Estella zoned out, resting her chin on the table. She had had a horrible morning already and this conversation was just going to top it all off. Werewolves. 'Dangerous, horrible creatures'. She couldn't bare to hear it.

Neville had indeed been right when he told her she'd be Malfoy's new main target after attacking him. Sure, he'd always seemed to have something against her after what had happened on the train back in September, but nothing could have prepared her for what would happen when she entered The Great Hall that morning. Nothing.

Slytherins were screaming at her from every direction. Food was thrown at her -- she was called horrible names; filthy half-blood, blood traitor, disgrace to the wizarding world (these were funny, of course, as she was in fact no less of a pureblood than they were, even if they didn't know it) -- and when it came to the Professors having to sort them all out, it seemed as though they had expected something like this to happen. Like they didn't care about what was happening to Estella because at the end of the day it was her own fault.

She accepted it, but it obviously still had an affect on her.

And if she had thought it would get any easier after the Professors had stepped in, she had been wrong. The Slytherins left her alone but that didn't stop her Father's owl from flying in, a big, red envelope tied around it's legs. He had sent her a Howler.

It was horrible -- and of course it gave the Slytherins yet another excuse to attack her for something. Remus had brought up the whole Malfoy situation, and made it clear to her that she was lucky he was letting her stay at Hogwarts, and especially on the Quidditch team.

"Quidditch is a privilege," his voice had yelled. "I won't hesitate to take it away if I have to."

Estella knew it wasn't the last she would be hearing of it either. Remus would be at the game on Saturday. She couldn't avoid him, and knowing him he'd be desperate to give her a good lecture in person.

"M-Miss Lupin," Quirell's timid voice interrupted her thoughts, making her look up at him -- chin off the table now. "Are you p-paying att-tention?"

"Sorry, Professor," said Estella, sitting straight again. "Yes, I am now."

"G-good. We were just d-discussing werewolf bites and how to-to t-treat them."

Estella raised an eyebrow, confused. "There's no cure for werewolf bites, sir."

"No, I kn-know that," Quirrel looked at her, "I said treating them. I-it's a c-completely different thing."

"Right." Estella nodded.

Quirrel looked back at the class, silencing them as they'd all slowly started to talk again. Once he'd got their attention, he asked for their opinions on the topic. Estella had to stop herself from walking out of the room.

"Personally," said Seamus Finnigan from the front of the classroom, after Professor Quirell had picked on him to answer, "I think all the werewolves should be rounded up and locked away! That way none of us would need to know how to treat the bites."

Estella bit her tongue. Lavender Brown was the next person to talk.

"I completely agree," she said, nodding. "I mean, of course, there's always going to be one or two of them that try to deny what they are, but surely the ministry can just put a trace on them? They are dangerous monsters after all!"