Merely Misunderstood

Chapter Seventy-Two

It was only halfway to Hogsmeade that I remembered Mirah.

Guilt gripped me as I scanned the heads bobbing up ahead, but none were familiar. She must have found the person she'd been searching for and evacuated — or so I hoped.

Up ahead, the Slytherins were slowing as they filed through a doorway in the wall, one that I recognized as the entrance to the Room of Requirement. But it didn't look the way I remembered. 

Somehow, it had transformed from the endless room filled with hidden trinkets to how I imagined an enormous treehouse would look — multicolored hammocks hung from the ceiling and a balcony that ran all around the windowless walls, which were plastered with Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tapestries and decor. Personal belongings scattered the floor, broomsticks were propped against the walls, bookcases bulged with various volumes, and in one corner was a wireless TV.

It was vacated aside from the evacuating students, but I could tell its previous residents had grown unbreakable bonds within this room.

"...Dumbledore's Army," I overheard a Slytherin girl up ahead saying. "I heard they all camped out in here when the Carrows were out for their heads."

"Bloody cowards," her friend scoffed.

A year ago, I might have agreed or even laughed with them. But now, inexplicably, my blood boiled. We were under attack, forced to vacate the castle unless we wanted to live out the rest of eternity as a Hogwarts ghost, and yet they still talked down on their classmates.

You'd think a situation like this would bring the students together, but here were my Housemates, still alienating themselves and playing along with the "evil Slytherin" reputation.

I seethed as the line moved forward, climbing through a passage in the wall behind a portrait of a young girl. The passageway was long and narrow, and we had to bend our necks to avoid banging our heads on the low ceiling.

Finally, after what felt like ages of walking, we emerged through another portrait like the one from before. This one was placed above a mantle in a lowly lit sitting room, and the students up ahead were climbing down and hurrying down a staircase on the opposite side of the room.

I followed, finding myself in the familiar grubby interior of the Hog's Head Inn. I had only ever been here once — in Fifth year, when Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been recruiting for Dumbledore's Army. Ginny Weasley had dragged me to the meeting, and even though I didn't fit in with the group, I'd still enjoyed my time with them.

I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that two years had passed since then. How could so much have changed in such a short amount of time?

"Right this way, hurry up!" Mr. Filch was shouting from somewhere up ahead. I found him standing by the entrance door, waving students through. From outside, there was the familiar CRACK of Disapparating, and I realized we weren't only evacuating Hogwarts, but the area altogether.

We were going as far away as we could.

I stopped. My head felt fuzzy. I had the strangest feeling in my gut, and it wasn't the good kind.

"What're you doing?" someone behind me asked impatiently. "Move along!"

I obeyed numbly, shuffling through the door into the biting cold. My eyes darted between the faces of those huddled together on the bleak street. I'd spoken to these students maybe once, if even. But nobody important to me was here.

Had my group Disapparated already? No, Mirah would've waited for me, I was certain of it. But if she wasn't here, then where—

My heart dropped, draining the blood from my face along with it.