Carina Gray is a sharp-witted, fiercely loyal Slytherin with a knack for mischief and a heart of gold she tries hard to keep hidden. Known for her bold sense of humor and unwavering courage, she isn't afraid to stand up for her friends, even if it m...
The heavy, humid air of the Orphanage seemed to press down on Carina Gray's shoulders as she made her way down the narrow hallway toward the kitchen. The old floorboards groaned under her feet, her steps echoing in the stillness. She kept her gaze straight ahead, her face impassive, ignoring the familiar whispers behind her.
"Oi, freak!" Emma Fletcher's shrill voice rang out behind her, but Carina didn't flinch.
She'd learned long ago that if she didn't respond, the words would lose their sting—but some days, they still hit harder than others.
Just as she reached the kitchen door, she felt someone brush too close to her. A hand grazed her arm, deliberate and far too familiar.
"Looking good today, Gray."
Carina turned sharply to see James Whittaker's greasy grin. He leaned casually against the wall, his eyes glinting with smug satisfaction as if he expected her to blush or cower.
Instead, Carina slapped his hand away with a sharp crack, her eyes flashing. "Touch me again, Whittaker, and I'll kick you so hard you won't have any legs left."
James's grin faltered, but he recovered quickly, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Easy there, princess. Just being friendly."
Carina's lips curled into a dangerous smile. "So am I. Now move."
She turned and pushed the kitchen door open, her heart pounding beneath her calm exterior. The kitchen smelled faintly of bleach, and the sight of the old scuffed countertops only reminded her how much she hated this place. She grabbed a bucket from under the sink and began to fill it, the sound of rushing water doing little to drown out the steady thrum of rage in her chest.
The days dragged on, each one bleeding into the next with painful monotony. The other children in the orphanage—young and somewhat carefree—spent their mornings in messy games of tag and their evenings telling ghost stories in the living room. Carina, however, had long learned that her place here was different. The stares, the muttered insults, and the whispered "freak" that followed her everywhere like a shadow reminded her of that daily.
When the summer trip to the seaside was fully announced, the halls buzzed with excitement. Kids packed their bags, whispering about sandcastles and fish and chips by the pier. Carina stayed in her room, not bothering to pack. She already knew she wouldn't be going. She was right.
The morning the bus arrived, she watched from her window as the younger children rushed toward it, laughing and jostling each other. Ms. Trumble stood by the door, clipboard in hand, barking orders. When the last child was seated, Trumble glanced up at Carina's window with a look of satisfaction.
