Harry, they're looking at you.
Harry, they're watching you.
Harry, they're judging you.
Harry, they hate you.
Why do they hate me? They don't know a thing about me. I'm just some new kid who was forced to transfer here, they can't possibly hate me.
But they do, Harry, they hate you.
They hate your hair and your shoes.
What's wrong with my hair? My shoes are nice, I polished them this morning.
They hate your clothes, Harry.
Why would they hate my clothes? I'm just wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans with a flannel.
They hate you, Harry.
No they don't, they don't know me. I bet no one even realizes I'm new, I just simply blend in. There's loads of other students in these hallways, they surely can't be staring at only me.
No, they aren't staring at me.
They're staring at her.
They don't hate me, they hate her.
