School work

394% Obsessed

It was cold in my History classroom, cold like the cells of Azkaban. I felt like one of the prisoners, slowly being drained of all my happy memories and becoming a shell, empty on the inside. Empty like the Chamber of secrets after Harry killed the basilisk, empty as Hedwig's cage must have been after she was killed by Death Eaters. I was becoming like Sirius Black when he was in Azkaban, clinging to an obsession to stay sane. My obsession with Harry Potter had transcended an obsession, it was now a basic need of life, like water or food, or air. Harry Potter is my life. It was now my past, my present and my future, just like how Voldemort was Tom Riddle's past, present, and future. Except I could never become Harry Potter in real life (at least, not without polyjuice potion).

In History class we were learning about World War II, which meant that my sanity and self restraint was tested beyond belief. The amount of connections I could come up with, from Voldemort being the magical equivalent of Hitler, to the fact that that was around the time that Grindelwald was gaining power, before Dumbledore defeated him. I couldn't say anything, because if I did, Bella (who I nicknamed Bellatrix) would scream at me to shut up, or insult Harry Potter in some way. If she did insult Harry, I would be forced to do what Hagrid did when Vernon Dursley insulted Dumbledore, but I wasn't sure how I'd give Bellatrix a pigtail (only the Muggle version of that, since I'm technically a "muggle").

Oh no, oh no, oh Merlin, no, oh no... now Mrs. Brown was talking about Hitler, and how he was part Jewish... Tom Riddle a halfblood--No. I didn't want Bellatrix to screech at me again, and Mrs. Brown wouldn't do anything to reprimand her. Everyone's patience was wearing thin with my constant Harry Potter references by now, but I couldn't seem to stop. Finally, after debating with myself, I raised my hand, Mrs. Brown seemed to know I was about to make another Harry Potter reference, but she called on me anyways.

"Yes, Andromeda?" She asked irritably. She seemed to be as irritated with me as McGonagall had been when Umbridge kept coughing while she was trying to teach, but I was also known for my vivid imagination.

"Well, In--" That's as far as I got before Bellatrix saw it worthy to add her useless opinion. To me, Bella's opinion was about as valuable as leprechaun gold.

"OH MY GOD, ANNA, NO ONE CARES!" She screamed, sounding like Bellatrix LeStrange was using the Cruciatus curse on her, and Mrs. Brown didn't say anything to her.

I knew Mrs. Brown didn't like me, she liked me about as much as Snivellus Snape liked James Potter. I would say Harry Potter, but given the chance, she wouldn't save my life, she'd probably appreciate the break from the Harry Potter references.

I disliked Mrs. Brown less than she hated me, but unlike her, I had valid reasons to dislike her. To begin, she was unprofessional. She allowed her students to be bullied. She's just as bad as Snivellus Snape, who allowed the same conduct. Furthermore, she was a bad teacher, as bad as Snape, but probably even worse. Maybe Professor Binns, who taught History of Magic, but didn't bother to make sure that his students were paying attention, he just lectured. Her lack of enthusiasm for her job is understandable, considering that this place is as bad as Azkaban, but she should still try to get a new job in a school that wasn't so reminiscent of Azkaban. To me, Mrs. Brown is as bad as Dolores Umbridge.

I managed to keep my mouth shut for the rest of History, as if I had taken an unbreakable vow of silence. I was doing well, until my Arithmancy (math) teacher put us into groups of three to work on an assignment. Bellatrix and a girl named Genna, whom I called Ginny. All was going well until Ginny, who was a fellow book nerd, brought up the topic of books. In that moment I was as hopeless as Sirius had been when he was captured so that they could get the dementors to administer the kiss to him.

"You should read Harry Potter, it'll transfigure your life." I suggested, it was pointless to resist, I was as infatuated with Harry Potter as Bellatrix LeStrange was obsessed with blood purity and Voldemort, and like Bellatrix, I wanted to recruit as many for my cause as possible, no matter the cost.

"No one is going to read Harry Potter, it's a dead book series just like Latin is a dead language. No one wants to read it." Bella snapped.

I refused to take her ignorant hatred for Harry Potter anymore, like Neville Longbottom began to in his fifth year, I would fight back. I was sick of suppressing myself whenever I wanted to say something.

I looked Bellatrix right in the eyes, the same way the basilisk had stared Moaning Myrtle right in the eyes, and said, with complete siriusness: "'Do not pity the dead, pity the living, and above all, pity those who live without [Harry Potter]'" (Rowling 722).

I didn't bother paying attention to her dimwitted reply, I refused to stay quiet when I wanted to say something anymore, Bella couldn't stop me, my love for Harry Potter would be my strength. Besides, all of my references to Harry Potter would be the best way to fight back, she was the one who got irritated by them the most.Why would I let Bella control my life? It was like a duel between a Muggle and a Wizard; she didn't have a chance. Besides, I had something she didn't, the same way Harry had something that Voldemort didn't, but this time it wasn't love (or a nose), it's knowledge. Knowledge is power, the same way magic is might. I was fine with the way I was, I didn't need to change for anybody, especially someone like Bella.

Mischief Managed.