The Corpse That Lived.

Chapter 27

Hogwarts was absolutely mad.

Everything about the place was mad. The building itself seemed to be designed as complicated as possible, for starters. She would have been miserable her first day, running around hopelessly lost with her classmates, if it hadn't been for her second problem with Hogwarts, the other students.

They were everywhere. Every bleeding corridor she turned down, there's some kid standing there staring at her. Whispering. Watching. She thought the Slytherins would leave her alone after the first night but no, they were all always there, watching, staring.

The only silver lining of them being every damned where was that Draco had no problems demanding they give them directions to their classes. Draco was making her life at Hogwarts a little more easier, it was times like this she wished she was a boy because Pansy Parkinson was making her life a living hell. She seemed to have some disgusting idea that Dahlia has feeling for Draco but Dahlia wasn't in habit of crushing on boys who looked like a cow licked their head.

The older Slytherins seemed especially eager to guide them around and attempt to start conversations with their group.

Draco puffed himself up, pleased with the extra attention they were receiving. Ron, who was a Gryffindor, was someone with the right priorities though, he would glare and keep his wand in his hand whenever they were being followed by groups of other students. Zabini, who seemed to integrate quickly and easily with them, laughed every time Dahlia shot a curse off at anyone who tried to approach her.

The very first class she had, History of Magic, was just more proof, as if she needed it, that Hogwarts was mad. The class itself was taught by a ghost. An honest to god, can't hold anything solid, see-through, ghost. Dahlia suspected when the original Professor Binns died that he didn't even realize that he had died which is why he's a ghost teaching history now.

He certainly didn't realize when the other students tried to spend a good portion of the class by whispering about Dahlia.

"—disgusting," was a whispered clip she heard from one of her house mates mates, Millicent Bulstrode.

"—unwanted," was a word she heard through piercing insult from Parkinson.

"—evil," came from a Gryffindor boy that Dahlia thought was named Finnigan.

Neville and Draco, on either side of her, had clearly heard the whispers and taunts as well, judging by their stiffened shoulders and stony faces.

"Oi," Ron, who was seated behind Dahlia's table with Zabini and Nott, hissed at the Gryffindor boy. "Why don't you shut your mouth before I shut it for you?"

Dahlia had no idea why Ron was defending her. She didn't know why he'd offered to be her second last night either for that matter. She'd need to talk to him soon and find out what kind of game he's playing because Dahlia isn't going to owe him favours later.

"You're defending her?" Finnigan whispered back. "Bet you're just as bad."

"Sod off," Ron whispered, turning back to the front with his ears becoming a shocking shade of red.

People either worshipped her or hated her. In others eyes, she was either an angel who saved them all from Voldemort or a Dark witch. Why else would Voldemort want to get rid of a baby, they whispered behind her back. 

All in all, History of Magic was not Dahlia's favourite class.

Transfiguration though, that class left her with what is probably the most genuine smile of her life.

When she entered the classroom she made for a table in the back until she heard someone shout her name. She had looked up and saw Hyacinth at a desk upfront and she was gesturing to an empty seat beside her.