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...
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Leaning against the headboard, I observe Pansy's restless movements around the dormitory. The glances from her dormmates reveal their unease, understandable given Pansy's unrestrained outbursts. Pansy's words, unleashed with reckless abandon, reverberate through the air like thunderclaps, disrupting the tranquility that once resided here.
❝I don't get it, Leah.❞
As she collapses onto the bed, a whine escaping her lips, Elena, one of the girls in the room, reaches her limit. Emitting a deep sigh, she shoots us a piercing glare before forcefully swinging open the weighty wooden door and departing. The remaining girls swiftly follow suit, seeking solace from the commotion.
Positioned on my side, supported by my elbow, I can't help but inject a touch of amusement into my voice as I inquire, ❝how did you survive before I came into your life?❞
While I peruse the pages of the book, my finger glides along the textured paper, seeking the elucidation that eludes her grasp.
❝I don't know,❞ she shrugs, the weight of uncertainty evident in her nonchalant demeanor. With a casual flick of her wrist, she unwraps a lollipop, its vibrant colors mirroring the complexity of the subject at hand. ❝I never really asked for help,❞ she admits, the words muffled by the sweet confection now occupying her mouth.
Liar.
A fleeting moment of hesitation causes my smile to waver imperceptibly, but I swiftly replace it with a forced expression of cheerfulness. Though my eyes may not reflect the same enthusiasm, I know Pansy won't notice, engrossed as she is in her Instagram feed.
❝But how did you pass? Did you study with the boys?❞I inquire as I sit up, my posture reflecting my growing interest.
Her laughter fills the air. ❝The boys? None of them are good at explaining anything,❞ she declares.
My lips press together. ❝No help at all?❞
She hums thoughtfully, capturing the moment with a quick selfie. ❝Now that you mention it, there was this one girl,❞she reveals, her gaze lifting from the screen of her phone.
Her gaze narrows, seemingly piercing through my facade, and for a moment, I fear that my true identity as that very girl, has been exposed; that she realizes that I'm an imposter.
A breath catches in my throat, though I maintain a mask of indifference, concealing the turbulent emotions surging within me.
With a dismissive shrug, she continues, oblivious to the impact of her words. ❝I don't recall her name,❞ she admits. ❝She was weird, though. I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Her family was messed up. Her brother basically slaughtered her parents.❞
