𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍 | 𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒐 𝑴𝒂𝒍𝒇𝒐𝒚 | 𝟏

𝟐𝟒*

Olivia hadn't ever been in Professor Moody's office in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and with good reason. The first and most obvious was that she didn't particularly like the man. There had been something about him from the first day she had seen him in the great hall at the start of the school year.

Everyone had said he was mad—and that was where he'd earned his nickname Mad-Eye Moody. She'd heard the stories of how he'd lost his eye, of what had driven him to be so strange and harsh but in her opinion the stories never truly matched his personality. There was something else, something different about the man.

So, yes, she didn't particularly like him. She didn't enjoy his classes, not when she always caught him watching her like a hawk when he thought she wasn't looking. She'd never quite been able to put her finger on what it was that told her to stay as far away from him as possible.

But when he grabbed her arm and hauled her off the grass and back up to the castle she had been far too numb to even listen to her senses. If she hadn't of been she'd of ran for the hills, especially when he dropped her down in a chair in his dark office and focused the majority of his attention on Harry. She hadn't even realised he'd locked the bloody door behind them, keeping her in and everyone else out.

She barely glanced around the small space, looking at nothing in particular but anything that could give her an idea about the man who was currently tending to her friend as he cried.

The office was as plain as she expected it to be. There was nothing of interest for her to look at and instead she found her attention drawn to her trembling hands. Outside, she could still hear the patter of rain against the window. It made no effort to stop but Olivia was in no frame of mind to concentrate either. She thought she had started the rain but now she wasn't so sure. It didn't feel like she was using her magic but what did she truly know? If what her teachers had said were true something of this level of magic was as easy as breathing.

She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think about anything if she was being honest. She wanted to curl up into a ball in a dark room and never come out ever again. Her childhood best friend had just died, killed by a man who had ran the Wizarding World to the ground in fear fourteen years ago.

Cedric was dead and Lord Voldermort was alive and... she had no idea what to do about that.

Sitting in Professor Moody's office there wasn't much she could do. Not in her current state of shock. Maybe she could deal with it the next day... or never. She would prefer that over the first option.

Silently she leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and ran her trembling fingers through her damp hair. The strands were starting to curl like they always did whenever they were wet. It was something she'd never had control over. For years she had straightened her hair after she had washed it. It was something her mother had always done since she was a child and a habit she continued. It wasn't until just recently when she found out about her true heritage where she learned that her hair was naturally curly like most in the Black family. A trait that had never been concealed by the spell Dumbledore had supposedly cast on her.

What else about her would change? Would Moody notice her hair curling or would he be too preoccupied in Harry to realise?

She tried not to think about it. She just had to focus on composing herself enough to be able to walk out of this office as soon as humanly possible. There was an unsettling feeling creeping over her and spreading through her bones and she couldn't tell if it had to do with the dark, chilling, nature of the office she was sitting in or the person whose office it was. Perhaps it was a mixture of both?

She needed to get her act together and she needed to do it quickly. She had to build her walls high and iron proof them before she saw any of her friends or her boyfriend. In her current state, she was afraid she'd shatter completely and she wasn't sure she'd be able to glue herself back together this time.