Lost Memories

xii. gryffindor balls

"Charlotte!" Hermione mumbled.

"Me? Pathetic and insecure? Are you sure you aren't projecting your own feelings?" spat Pansy.

"Says the one calling Hermione names and hanging off Draco's arm like a leech whenever he's around. Seem to have issues to me– jealousy and attachment, if I had any idea," I scoffed.

Pansy's pug face turned pink at my comment about Draco's lack of affection. "You're the jealous one! Just jealous that you have no guy falling at your feet. I have Draco, and somehow this. . . Mudblood has Harry," she laughed.

"Pansy, hun, I don't need anyone falling at my feet to feel good about myself," I laughed softly, slowly walking up to her. My face fell as I narrowed my eyes at the horrible Slytherin, "and don't you dare use that term in front of me again if you know what's good for you."

"Mudblood? Well, that's what she is," Pansy smirked, "as are you."

"You better watch it, Parkinson," I said in a low voice, reaching up to slowly twirl her hair, "I don't play very nice. Wouldn't want to ruin your pretty little face, right?"

"Well, I don't play fair," she spat. Just as she said it, I felt her arm move in means to take her wand out. My hand was positioned perfectly and I punched the side of her face with a nasty crack.

"Holy —" I screamed and jumped back, cradling my bruising hand. Pansy squealed in pain and held her nose, her slimy friends gather around her as I shake my hand.

"Charlotte!" Hermione screeched. Grabbing my good arm, she pulled me away from the group and towards an empty corridor. "What in the bloody hell was that!"

"Well, I– She was pulling out her wand! I reacted," I huffed. Looking down at my right hand, I shook it and winced. The adrenaline stopped coursing through my veins and the pain of my knuckles set in. "Ouch, this really hurts," I mumbled.

"Why did you punch her?" Hermione questioned hotly.

"I— I don't know. I just did! I got scared," I explained looking down at the swelling. Slowly, I turned my attention from my hand to Hermione, "um, Hermione? C-Can you fix my hand or something, please? I- I don't want to go to Madam Pomfrey– she'll ask questions."

"Fix your own hand!" Hermione huffed, annoyed. She was pacing back and forth, probably thinking of all the ways we're going to get in trouble or how many points we'll lose.

"I can't! I don't know how," I covered.

"It's just Episkey."

"I can't fix it!"

"Lottie, it's quite simple. You can't do any more damage to your hand," she blew me off.

Looking around the corridor, I noticed it was completely empty. No people and no paintings.

"I can't," I admitted.

"What do you mean you can't? You're so lazy," Hermione missed the comment.

"Oh, God. . . uh," I whispered softly, "I- I can't do magic."

"What?" Hermione suddenly stopped pacing and turned to me. "Say that again."

"Hermione, I know you very well heard me," I crossed my arms over my chest, being careful of my hand.

"How are you— That's impossible. It's impossible for a. . . muggle. . . to see Hogwarts. It's in—"

"—Hogwarts: A History. I know. Along with the train and the secret platform and the Knight Bus and every other freaking magical thing!"

"Then how can you—"