Leah Labelle has spent most of her years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the shadows, always present but never quite noticed. She often felt caught between not being ugly enough to be bullied and not being captivating enough to seiz...
Feeling tired, I find myself unable to fully register Pansy taking the seat next to me during the first class of the day, which happens to be History of Magic. My mind is still in a fog, and I lack the energy to acknowledge her presence or engage in any sort of interaction. Instead, I focus on trying to gather my thoughts and slowly awaken myself before class begins.
Pansy immediately starts recounting the events of yesterday and my attention is momentarily caught by her mention of Mattheo turning Draco into a mouse. ❝It's too bad you weren't up for hanging out after the ceremony. Mattheo ended up turning Draco into a mouse.❞
My exhaustion still lingers as she tries to tell me the whole story in deep detail, making it difficult for me to fully commit to the conversation. I glance briefly at the video playing on her iPhone, which had caught the whole drama, but my mind still struggles to process the many fragments of her story.
With a tired smile, I respond and I decide to make an effort this time, ❝That sounds interesting. I'm sorry I missed it. I was just really tired,❞ I tell her, not being fully honest with my words.
❝Pansy!❞ Draco calls loudly as he barges into the half-empty classroom. There are another five minutes until class starts.❝Take that awful video down from your Snapchat and Instagram story!❞
❝Why? Will your father otherwise hear about this?❞The female next to me asks with laughter bubbling up her throat.
I bite the inside of my cheek at her comment, finding it funny.
❝It's not funny!❞The blonde male says angrily.
❝It's kind of funny, right Leah?❞
I nod slowly, momentarily hesitant to laugh. However, I can't help but let out a chuckle, convincing myself that the chances of being hexed are minimal.
Draco's glare intensifies, his displeasure evident as he openly expresses his dissatisfaction with the entire situation he has caught himself inside.
At that precise moment, Theodore enters the classroom, instantly catching Draco's attention. Without hesitating, Draco involves Theodore in the ongoing conversation, pulling him into the midst of the situation.
❝Theodore, what would you do if someone posted a video of you being turned into a rat on social media?❞
Pansy scrunches her nose.❝It was a mouse, not a ra—❞
❝It doesn't fucking matter, Pansy!❞ Draco shouts, his hands clutching into fists by his sides as he interrupts her mid-word.
Theodore lets out a dark chuckle, shaking his head ever so slightly in response to the question before saying, ❝I would never be caught in that situation to begin with so I'm not sure.❞
Pansy's cackle fills the air, while I tightly press my lips together, determined not to give Theodore the satisfaction of knowing that his response was somewhat amusing.
Draco's left eye twitches, his previously displeased expression morphing into a hard scowl. He begins muttering incoherently under his breath, shaking his head in frustration. Slamming his books down on the seat furthest away from Pansy, he directs an intense gaze towards her. Amidst his muttered words, I catch glimpses of phrases like 'hate' and 'you,' revealing the depth of his anger toward Pansy.
❝Come on, it's not my fault you pissed Mattheo off!❞ Pansy says in between fits of laughter.
As other students begin to arrive for class, their curiosity piqued by the unfolding scene, I notice a distinct difference from yesterday. Unlike the previous day, they do not openly stare or fall into hushed silence upon encountering Slytherin's most popular clique. Instead, they maintain their own conversations. Although, their subtle glances and whispers indicate that they are more intrigued than they let on.
Sensing Theodore's eyes fixed upon me, I instinctively shrink in an attempt to make myself appear smaller, hoping that he will lose interest and leave me alone. The weight of his eyes feels heavy, as if he is trying to provoke a reaction from me. I try my best to remain composed, reminding myself not to give in to his manipulative tactics.
His eyes shift to Pansy, ❝does she talk today?❞
I sit up straighter in my seat, my back rigid and my arms crossed protectively over my chest. The anger within me fuels my words as I snap at Theodore, refusing to let him intimidate me any longer. ❝Don't you have someone more worthy of your presence ?❞I retort sharply,❝Perhaps Azkaban would be a suitable destination for someone like you.❞
My words hang in the air, laced with an unyielding stubbornness. I narrow my eyes on Theodore, refusing to let his presence or Pansy's reactions distract me. My jaw clenches tightly, a silent display of my unwavering resolve. The sound of Pansy's amusement reaches my ears, but I remain steadfast, refusing to let it sway me. In this moment, all I can focus on is maintaining the hold of his eyes in mine.
❝That's cute,❞ Theodore says condescendingly, accompanied by an irritating smile that plays upon his lips. With a final glance in my direction, he turns away and moves to sit next to Draco.
Pansy turns to me, her eyes scanning my face, and for a fleeting moment, I believe she recognizes me. There is a small beat of hope that flickers within me, as I recall the memories of our shared moments, the lunches we once enjoyed together, and the times I helped her in the library. Yet, as she finally opens her mouth to speak, my heart sinks, disappointment flooding over me like a wave. Each word that escapes her lips carries a weight that further deepens my disappointment.
❝Where have you been all my life? Like, seriously, where were you all these years? America? Homeschooled?❞
Frustration surges through me as her words ring inside my head. They echo relentlessly in my mind, like a broken record on an endless loop. The thoughtless essence of her words pierces my emotions in a way I can't describe. All I know is that it leaves me increasingly exasperated. It becomes harder for me to contain my growing aggravation as I struggle to make sense of her.
As I sit there in silence, contemplating the changes I had made to my appearance, a sense of disenchantment envelops me. Despite not acquiring a new face or taking on a new name, it seems as if I have become a complete stranger to those around me. No one seems to know me, let alone recognize me. The alterations I have made to my appearance have succeeded in catching people's attention, but it only serves to highlight the stark contrast between their newfound awareness and the previous state of being invisible. The realization hits me with a wave of pathetic despair, as I acknowledge that my previous feelings of being unseen were not mere exaggerations but a painful reality.
I barely listen as Professor Cuthbert Binns drones on and on about various historical events. I struggle to muster any form of interest in his words, even though I am aware that I should find it all interesting. It's a peculiar feeling, this lack of enthusiasm, as if an invisible barrier separates me from the subject matter.
Despite my best efforts, I find myself unable to engage or find meaning in what should be a captivating topic.
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