Thea Howell and The Boy Who Lived

Chatper 5: Bubble, Bubble, Boys in Trouble

He crossed his arms, "Says the kid who talks to ghosts,"

"That took years to do," My foot froze on the tile floor when I noticed the mist wrapping around the my ankles. I grabbed a bar of soap and launched it, hitting the wall with a SPLAT! And he was gone... thankfully. The bloody chains chiming like a twisted bird song throughout the corridor.

Peeves was also gone, his voice shouting rude words to people down the stairs. Classy.

With a towel scrunched around my chest and leaving a trail of water footprints behind me, I slowly crept into the girl's dorm as all the other students had left for breakfast, before getting dress. I brushed my hair smooth, slipped into white buttoned shirt, house tie and short plaid skirt. My eyes reminded me of the sweet hue of clovers, framed by my inky black hair - it match my uniform perfectly, "Wow, I look so pretty!"

And just before I forgot, I down my morning medicine, the colour of a golden sunrise and taste of honeydew - as the clock tower rung through the school.

BONG! BONG! BONG!

And I raced up the corridors, skipping my breakfast.

"There, look." Said a girl.

"Where?" Shouted another.

A few more pointed, "Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?" They continued, "Did you see his face? Did you see his scar?"

I turned a corner as saw children lining up outside classrooms, staring through behind windows get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again. Harry's cheeks were red from the whispers as he just stood there, waiting - begging - for class to start. It was honestly shuddering to watch these overgrown and pimply teenagers hover around him. I waited inside as he and the rest of the class went down the to the dungeons. Potions lessons took place in the coldest part of the castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Chains hanging from the ceilings, as the sounds of Peeves and screaming children echoed through the corridors.

As we sat, Snivels—I mean, Snape started the class by taking the roll call, barely glanced down the page. His black cloak enveloped him like ink as his hollow cheek glowed white against the lanterns.

"Ganger?" Snape huffed.

Hermione chirped, "HERE!" and he pressed his finger against his lips, silencing her. She was completely under his spell.

I tapped her shoulder, "You're a muggle-born, right?" I waved, "I didn't recognise your name before."

Hermione sighed, not even looking at me, "Yes, my parents are muggles,"

I cracked a smile, "Have you seen Beetlejuice?"

"What?" She said, furrowing her brows — still facing the front, I might add.

"Beetlejuice, it's the best movie I've seen," I answered, feeling my leg bounce up and down, "Well, it's the only movie I've seen,"

She pulled a strange face and shrugged, "I haven't seen it, I don't like cinemas,"

I felt my voice crack, "Funny."

"What?" She growled, her stare drilling into my skin.

I repeated, chills down my spine, "I said... find that funny,"

She frowned turned around, shrugging to the girl beside her, "What a weirdo,"

"I know, right," The girl said.

I sighed and turned back to the front. So much for socialising... The rest watched Snape strut around the room before he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new... celebrity."