[001] CHAPTER 5

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Makayla

"Makayla! Makayla!" someone behind me shouts. I can barely tell who it is until I turn around. It's... Lupin? Ann Lupin. The girl I helped tutor earlier.

"Oh, hey, Ann, what's up?"

"I was wondering if you knew how to do muggle math?"

"Muggle math? I mean, yeah but–"

"Great!" she interrupts. "I need you to help me and a friend out!"

"Okay–?"

She grabs my hand and practically drags me to Gryffindor table and sits me on the bench.

"What is she doing here?" A brunette, diverse boy with eyes of coffee beans asks, annoyed.

"Alistari, meet Makayla. Makayla, meet Alistari!" Ann says, way too enthusiastically.

"Lestrange? Jules' sister?" I ask. He nods. "What are you doing in Gryffindor?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because you are a–"

"Okay!" Ann interrupts. "How about you help us learn muggle math?"

"What do I have to teach you next? Parseltongue?"

Ann had a long pause before responding, "Can you do–"

"No!"

"But why not?"

"Because! I can't speak nor can I teach parseltongue!"

"Well why did you say–"

"It was an example!"

Ann sighs as I roll my eyes and walk out of The Great Hall, to the Slytherin common room.

Louis and his friends are hanging out, throwing darts at a dart board as I walk to my room, shutting the door as tight as I can.

I dig through my drawers until I find a small container. Inside, there is green pigment. I grab a paintbrush and a piece of parchment paper and start painting away.

I could paint for hours, days, weeks, years, however long I wanted, as long as no one disturbed me. It is always hard to paint in private without being disturbed. It's especially hard to find a good spot to hide my unfinished art projects. I'm a Slytherin. I'm not expected to be smart or creative. People expect me to be dumb like Crabbe or Goyle, but I'm not like that. Which is why I have to keep it a secret. Because like others, I hate different. Different blood, different taste, different status, it's all the same. Different skills are no different.

I paint a detailed snake with green-fading-to-black scales and the word 'Slytherin' carefully painted in black on a brown banner. Then, I hear a loud knock on my door. Who the bloody hell could that be?

𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 (OC x OC)Where stories live. Discover now