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Walking through the unnecessarily warm corridors, I felt goosebumps inside. Every step I took made a pecking sound, echoing against the walls and disturbing the portraits at the same time.
There was something strangely heavy hanging in the air, like a countdown you couldn't hear. My ears pricked up even though I was the only sound producer here.
My way to dinner was long, coming down from the seventh floor all the way to the great hall is not an easy journey. It was quiet, everyone was at the sorting ceremony, and I consider my time more valuable than attending the welcome dinner.
In my entry process, my intention was not to attract attention, but I certainly managed to get dozens of eyes glued to me. I could feel their eyes gliding over me, the filthly bastards. Each of their looks is judgmental, full of resentment or even fear.
Fear.
Such a system of emotions gathered into one four-letter word, that's my favorite. Fear makes people do stupid things, dishonorable, treacherous and cowardly acts. But if you don't care, you have no fear.
The Hufflepuff table was my nightmare that I wasn't afraid of, I didn't wake up screaming or crying, sometimes you just hate things. I hate the Hufflepuff house I was put in, I hate the stares, I hate the whispers, I hate Hufflepuff.
I have no friends there. I have no friends anywhere. I don't make friends, I collect acquaintances, useful ones. Hufflepuff doesn't have those.
Over time I realised that I am the best when I retreat into the shadows, the rulers from the shadows are the most powerful. In my plan I am always hindered by a certain goose,
"Oi love!" His voice was husky, but loud, irritating. "No welcome kiss? Shame." He dropped his stupid arse on the empty seat next to me, his arm sticking around my shoulder.
Touch.
Internal panic.
The four walls began to gather, their gazes burned my pale skin, staring eyes were everywhere, as if they were waiting for the massacre of the universe.
"If you don't take your hand off me immediately, it will be ripped off and shoved down your throat." A whisper was the furthest I could go, a clear threat but passed off as a joke.
His laughter was like the blossoming of a bud, like the embrace of the sun, disgusting. He is everything I hate, as if he is the trunk and core of my hatred, and the branches are all that remind me of him, all that I hate.
He makes me hate things, everything he loves I despise, I always stop to think "What would Bartemius do?" and do the opposite.
"You show love in strange ways, Ly. Don't worry, we'll work on it."
Ignore him.
He never lets it be known that being ignored bothers him, but if you're looking for signs, you'll see him purse his lips just a tiny bit, the sparkle in his eyes falter and his gaze drop to the lower right corner before he recovers and flashes a perfect smile, whispers a promise in my ear and disappears.
