Evanora

After the Train to Hogwarts FIFTH YEAR

"JUST STAY AWAY FROM ME!" Harry shouted at Malfoy. There was something wrong, I could tell. Harry didn't always lash out like that. It was only Malfoy, but he set him off so easily.

"It's only Malfoy," Ron said. "What'd you expect?" Harry shakes out of Ron's grasp and continues walking forward. Once we arrive at the carriages, Harry turns around and looks at nothing.

"What's that?" he asks.

"What's what?" Ron says.

"That," Harry replies. He is staring bewilderedly upward at the air. "Pulling the carriage."

"Nothing's pulling the carriage, Harry," Hermione says worriedly. "It's pulling itself like always."

Harry walked around the carriage without looking away from the invisible creature. A soft voice interrupts his stare.

"You're not going mad," a blonde girl spoke softly. "I can see them too. You're just as sane as I am," she said. I wasn't too sure how comforting that was.

At dinner, Dumbledore introduced Dolores Umbridge who wanted to speak.

"She was at my hearing," Harry whispered to me. "She works for fudge."

"Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome. And how lovely to see all your bright, happy faces smiling up at me. I'm sure we're all going to be very good friends." she said.

"That's likely," Fred and George said. She gave them a look.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. Although each headmaster has brought something new to this historic school, progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged. Let us preserve what must be preserved, perfect what can be perfected, and prune practices that ought to be prohibited." She giggled and walked back to her seat. Dumbledore clapped so that everyone else would. They did, but joined the applaud awkwardly.

"Thank you, Professor Umbridge. That really was illuminating," he said.

"Illuminating? What a load of waffle." Ron commented.

"What's it mean?" Harry asked.

"It means that the Ministry is going to be interfering at Hogwarts."

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People gave Harry shady looks and were constantly avoiding him. Ron told me about how Harry woke up from nightmares and lashed out often. When I was near him I did my best not to say anything to make him angry.

However, in Umbridge's class, things took a nasty turn. Harry ended up shouting at Professor Umbridge, earning him detention for a week.

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Harry was sitting with a potions book in his lap on the couch of the Gryffindor common room. He had recently got back from detention.

"Hey," I said breathily while plopping myself onto the couch next to him. The movement from me sitting down caused the corner of his book to hit the back of his hand and he winced quietly, but then closed his mouth and looked up to me worriedly. "She didn't," I warned.

He looked up from his book. His features sharpened in the firelight. Looking down at his grip on the book, I let out a small and slow gasp. He tried to hide his hand under the book, but it was too late. He watched me as I scooted close to him and took his arm for closer examination, or maybe I just wanted an excuse to be close to him and hold his hand. I wrapped my right arm under his left and held his wrist with my right hand while my left slipped under his palm and fingers.  I turned his hand over facing me to examine the red scars on his arm. I gently handled his hand, careful not to hurt his scarred skin. I ran the pad of my thumb gently over the closed wound. My mouth fell slightly open and I furrowed my brows. Harry didn't wan't me to find out, nor did he want him to tell on Umbridge. Maybe it was because he didn't want to attract attention to himself. Or it was about his pride. Probably both. But why wouldn't he want to tell me? Because I might tell or because I might not understand? I closed my mouth. Because I might not understand, I concluded. Harry was annoyed with the fact that I would probably freak out and not understand that he didn't want to tell. I looked up to him and tried to think of something to say. I understand? You should have told me? Why didn't you tell me? Explain? I couldn't think of anything to say but he was watching me unknowing of what to expect from my grey eyes that were searching his for something deeper within him. I eventually decided on saying nothing. He watched me curiously as I slowly pulled his potion's book from his other hand. With my eyes racing over the pages, I placed his hand gently next to his left leg. My finger traced the words on the page, finally landing on one spot. I turned the book to him. It included information about a certain plant that eased pain when matched with other ingredients.