The Great War ⏤ Harry Potter

05 | something dark hanging over my head

By the weekend, the entire school has heard about his outburst in Professor Umbridge's class. His name is the only thing on everybody's lips, delivered with a derisive tone as he continues to pedal the lies he and Professor Dumbledore have created.

(According to the Daily Prophet, the Ministry and majority of the magical community.)

The Boy Who Lived pushes past students in the corridors, flanked by his friends Hermoine Granger and Ron Weasley who stand on either side of him. Eyes follow the trio as they push through the crowd on their way to class. Harry keeps his head down, avoiding eye contact. He misses Magdalena staring at him, waiting for their eyes to meet so she can shoot a small, supportive smile his way.

Not everybody believes you, but I do, is what that smile would say.

Rain lashes against the windows of the castle and a ferocious wind howls around the Ravenclaw Tower. The dismal weather has everybody cramped inside the castle for the weekend and the common room is bustling with noise as people jostle for empty spaces to sit to talk to their friends or complete homework.

Magdalena, Aimee and Jade escape to the library, hoping that under Madam Pince's watchful gaze, it will be quiet enough to focus on the mountain of schoolwork they have due on Monday. Magdalena couldn't concentrate on the reading of Conjuring Spells Professor McGonagall assigned to them when a group of third years were gossiping about Harry, calling him every nasty language under the sun. Who knew thirteen year olds could have such colourful language?

It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth and it remains glued on her tongue, no matter how many times she tries to wash it down with sips of water. She is quickly coming to the realisation that people are extremely fickle creatures; they can build someone up, turning them into an almost mythical figure and then cut them down in a second, sticking a knife in their back as they spit words of vitriol at them.

Harry Potter was once the hero of the magical world. Now he is the enemy.

The words in Magdalena's textbook about Conjuring Spells blur as she struggles to concentrate. It is a complex spell, a step up from a Vanishing Spell they learnt for their O.W.L.s. Aimee's quill rhythmically scratches against parchment, completing a History of Magic essay. She has three textbooks opened in front of her, taking up most of the desk the three girls are sharing. It is making Magdalena's head hurt and privately quite glad she didn't continue the subject into her final two years of school.

Jade is procrastinating, choosing to doodle on her parchment, drawing flowers and butterflies in the corners. She hums to herself as she does so, a song that Magdalena doesn't recognise.

Neither of them notice the conversation going on at the next table.

A group of students with yellow and black ties wrapped around their necks huddle over the table, whispering loudly to each other. Pieces of parchment and textbooks are ignored in favour of conversing, heads bent together as they gossip about Harry. All except for one boy at the table, who is writing out an essay, the tip of his quill scratching against the rough surface of parchment.

"You should have heard him, Hannah. He's saying that You-Kn0w-Who killed Cedric!"

"You don't believe Harry is lying, do you, Justin? If anyone was going to see You-Know-Who, it would be Harry, wouldn't it? You-Know-Who would hate Harry for what happened fourteen years ago."

"I believe Harry," a boy abruptly states, not even pausing from his writing. He doesn't look up, his eyes remaining glued on the words on the textbook in front of him. He only pauses when he realises he has his friends staring at him. He rolls his eyes. "Don't be daft. If it was an accident that caused Cedric to die, why haven't the details come out yet? The Ministry is keen to cover this up which means there's something they don't want us to know."