-Chapter 32-

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The next day I sit a breakfast, quietly eating my second piece of toast and half listening to the conversation Draco and Blaise are having about Quidditch. I'm wearing clean clothes for the first time in days. Occasionally I nod along to the conversation the boys are having, though I'm not entirely sure as to what they're talking about specifically.

I look up at the Gryffindor table, watching Harry, Ron and Hermione mutter to each other. Ron looks up at me, and I look away.  Suddenly,  the owls start swooping in with the morning post. Letters, parcels, and newspapers fall onto the tables, and the room becomes noisy, cluttered as people scramble for the post they know is theirs. Something falls onto my plate and I falter. I haven't received post in months. As I look down at the letter. My heart stops. 

No.

It's a howler. 

The small white label that is stuck to its back reads one name and it. One name that hurts me more than anything that they've said to me. Molly Weasley is written in neat, formal handwriting. Shaking, I glance over at Draco. 

Draco stops talking, his eyes falling on the scarlet envelope, then flickering up to me. The letter starts moving on its own, unfurling and flying up so it's at eye level with me. I freeze.  It unfolds to make a paper mouth, the white parchment inside for teeth. In the corner of my eye I see a couple Gryffindors point at me, though I'm not sure who they are. The room is still noisy, people haven't noticed yet. I brace myself. 

Clara Potter

The students around me jump, falling silent

I AM THOROUGHLY DISAPPOINTED IN YOUR BEHAVIOUR THIS YEAR. NOT ONLY TO MY OWN CHILDREN BUT TO YOUR FELLOW HOUSEMATES. TO THINK WE INVITED A WHINY GIRL LIKE YOU TO CHRISTMAS! AND THAT SLYTHERIN BOY MALFOY! TO THINK I TRIED TO HELP A GIRL LIKE YOU!

Now the only noise in the hall is Mrs Weasley's voice. 

AFTER THE WAY YOU HAVE TREATED MY CHILDREN I CAN ASSURE YOU THAT YOUR INVITATION BACK TO THE BURROW FOR SUMMER BREAK HAS BEEN RETRACTED. DO NOT TRY TO CONTACT ME OR THE OTHERS AGAIN. 

Molly Weasley. 

The room goes numb. No. Not Molly. I had been looking forward to summer at the Weasley's so I could explain myself, so they wouldn't have a choice but to listen. I was going to tell them everything. I was going to have an actual school break. Draco tries to speak to me, but I can't hear him. 

I can't hear it, but I know people from the other tables are laughing. I stand up, feeling a thousand pairs of eyes on me as I walk around the Slytherin table and out the large doors. The lump in my throat burns. I won't cry for them. I can't. I can't show them they've hurt me. I start walking faster, running, my chest aching. I need air. I need to get outside. Pushing through the first door my eyes focus on, I stumble into a large empty courtyard. Where am I? Where in the castle is this? I try to think about where I came from- the corners I turned, the artworks I passed- but nothing is there. I don't even know where I came from. 

I storm across the cobblestone, leaning against the wall on the other side of the courtyard. I start to shake. I'm alone. I can cry. They won't know.

I promised myself I would win. That this was my fight. That I could do this alone. I have to prove I am strong like my parents, like my brother. That I could live up to the name Potter. I've never fought as Basilisk or Voldemort or anything on my own and won. I am not as strong as them. I'm not a Potter. I'm just a girl. A kid. I'll never be as strong as them. I'll never save anyone. 

The sob shatters my body, and I curl forward over the wall, wrapping my arms tightly around myself and letting out a strangled cry. I slump to the floor, leaning into the stone as I cry, throat burning with every sob. I can't breathe. I feel someone's hands on my arms, and they frantically pull me to my feet, and into a tight hug. 

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