Merely Misunderstood

Chapter Seventy-One

A/N: Hi (it's been 8 months and i'm so sorry. but i haven't forgotten about you <3 i said i would finish this fanfic and i intend to keep my word)

My head spun. My breaths came in short, quick gasps.

McGonagall's voice sounded far away, as though I were listening to her speak from underwater. I couldn't grasp what she was saying; the words simply floated around in my head meaninglessly.

"...evacuation will be overseen by Mr. Fil..." was all I managed to make sense of before my comprehension slipped yet again. By the time I managed to get a grip, the entire Great Hall had suddenly broken into applause.

"If you are of age, you may stay," Professor McGonagall said once the cheers and claps settled down. A Ravenclaw girl asked about our things, and I turned a frown on Mirah, hoping she might be able to explain what the hell was going on.

But she just stared ahead, a look of resolution on her face. There was a flame in her eyes that I'd seen many times before, a fire that lit up whenever she stood up for what she believed was right — whether that was protecting me or fighting to be understood herself.

The memories filled my chest with warmth, and I suddenly understood why I'd never participated in the Gryffindor praise.

No matter how brave those students cloaked in red were, they never matched up to Mirah. She never hesitated in the face of adversity. She always glared right up into the faces of those who frowned down on her. To me, no one was more courageous than Mirah.

Which was probably why she looked ready to brawl with the Dark Lord himself. If I were a Death Eater and came face-to-face with her, I reckon I'd run.

Just then — speak of the devil — the Great Hall was filled with a high, cold voice. Chills rolled down my spine. I'd forgotten to pay attention to my surroundings yet again, but it wasn't difficult to make out what was happening from what the voice said:

"I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."

Silence fell, and no one so much as breathed. A few students clung to each other, looking around in pale-faced fear.

I looked at Mirah again, but she stared at the darkened enchanted ceiling in defiance.

"Give me Harry Potter," said the Dark Lord's voice, "and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until tonight."

The responding silence felt greater than the Earth itself. Slowly, wordlessly, every pair of eyes zoned in on a single point, where a familiar disheveled, dark-haired boy stood, glasses askew, attire worn and tattered.

The quiet was shattered as a figure only a few spots down from me rose from her seat at the Slytherin table, pointing an accusing finger and screaming, "But he's there! Potter's there! Someone grab him!"

There was a huge scuffle. I blinked, and the Gryffindors amassed around Potter, and the next instant, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws joined them. They surrounded Potter protectively, wands raised, on the defensive without anyone having given the order.

They acted on their own, without planning or debate. Just like that, three-quarters of the student body jumped up to defend a single boy.

I couldn't help but feel impressed. Not to mention, despite everything I held against Harry Potter, I couldn't help but agree with those who moved to protect him.