𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 | 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘗𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳

33 || Divination is Stupid

The next morning, Harry smiled at me at breakfast. Ron and Hermione kept giving me the side-eye, like I was going to spontaneously combust at any given second. Which was probably true.

Malfoy was entertaining the Slytherins with a "hilarious" story, in which he re-enacted fainting, rolling his eyes back into his head and flopping around.

"Ignore him," Hermione said, who was right next to me. "Ignore him, he's not worth it..."

"Hey Dream! Dream!" Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin with a face like a pug, called. "The dementors are coming, Dream! Wooooooooooo!"

I flipped her off.

Harry and Ron snickered and Hermione sniffed disapprovingly, but couldn't help smiling.

George and Fred nodded proudly, and handed me a piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"New third-year course schedules," said George, passing then, over. "What's up with you, Harry?"

"Malfoy," said Ron, sitting down on George's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table. George looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again.

"That little git," he said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the Dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"

"Nearly wet himself," said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy.

"I wasn't too happy myself," said George. "They're horrible things, those Dementors..."

"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred.

"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Harry in a low voice, looking at me. Ron and Hermione looked at me apprehensively.

"Forget it, Harry," said George bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking... They suck the happiness out of a place, Dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"

My head was pounding with a headache, but I couldn't fight the grin off of my face. The last time we played Slytherin, we beat them badly.

"Ooh, we're starting our new subjects today, Ash," Hermione said happily.

"Ash," said Ron, frowning as he looked over my shoulder, "they've messed up your timetable. Look-- they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough time."

"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall." I replied.

"But look," said Ron, laughing, "see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And--" Ron leaned closer to the timetable, disbelieving, "look--underneath that, Arithmancy, nine o'clock. I mean, I know you're good, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"

"Don't be silly," Hermione said. "She won't be in three classes at once."

"That's ridiculous," I said harshly, starting to get annoyed. Ron gulped.

"Would you quit looking at me like I'm going to explode?" I snapped, setting my fork down on my plate aggressively. Ron gulped again.

I rolled my eyes and stood up from the table.

"I need to be alone," I said, leaving the hall. I could feel their eyes burning holes in my back.

Outside of the hall, still clutching my schedule, I stopped at a big stone pillar. I rested the back of my head against it and took deep, long breaths. My head still felt like it was being split open.