A Memorable Tale

60 | Normal

"You really think..." Mandy trailed off as I sent a glare her way. "It's not just anyone that could've killed Cedric. And if Dumbledore says he's back, then he's back. Come on, Anthony, we've gotta lead the first years."

I stood up, calling for the first years to follow me while Anthony followed behind, making sure none of them strayed away.

•••

I sat at the table at breakfast the next day, waving my wand to keep a first year from eating some strange concoction from Fred and George.

I noticed Cho sit down and she waved to me before turning to her friends in sixth year. At the same time, I turned to the fifth years, who had all turned to me expectedly. "What are you looking at me for?"

"You normally have something to talk about at breakfast," Terry said.

"Why would I?"

"You weren't investigating last night?" Mandy's eyes were wide enough for me to see her entire hazel iris.

I shook my head. "Like I said, one more chapter and I was asleep." And then woke up at 3:00am, but asleep nonetheless. "I'm kind of done with investigations... they don't actually do anything."

Cedric was still dead.

Voldemort was back.

And all I had were blisters and paper cuts to prove that I even did anything. Sometimes, as I heard things other people didn't, as I wrote words that other people didn't know, as I gathered information that I wasn't supposed to know, I forgot that I was a kid.

I forgot that I was normal.

I was slapped in the face with the fact when I realized that my brother was normal as well. Mortal.

"But-"

"I have Muggle Studies first." I stood up and swung my bag over my shoulder. "See you."

•••

The Defence Against the Dark Arts was like flipping a coin and hoping it landed on your desired side, either an incredibly good class or a class that would be better off not existing.

As the Defensive Magical Theory was spread on my desk, my brain felt like it was being spackled and smoothed like a stone that was to be sent to a gift shop to fill a faux velvet pouch.

I had read it over and over, never feeling a single emotion because it was the equivalent to solving a six piece puzzle for toddlers.

Soon enough, Hermione's hand found its familiar place in the air. "I've got a query about your course aims."

Professor Umbridge raised her brows. "And your name is..."

"Hermione Granger.

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully."

As per Professor Umbridge's words, I looked at the board where she had written the course aims: understanding the principles of underlying defensive magic, learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can be legally used, and placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

I then looked at a page in my textbook, then turned it, then turned it again, finding no mention of casting spells or learning about actual dark arts to defend against.

Hermione failed to find it as well. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

"Using defensive spells?" It seemed liked Umbridge had just heard a joke as she repeated the end of Hermione's sentence with a laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

Maybe not me, but you, I'm very close to doing so.

I glanced at Neville, who sat beside me with his mouth tightened into a thin line.

"As long as you've studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," Professor Umbrudge used as a response to a question about our O.W.L.

"But what good is theory going to be in the real world?" Harry questioned.

I hadn't heard his voice in a while. I don't doubt his ability to have a spat with a teacher, but I worried about what he'd bring up.

"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world," Professor Umbridge said calmly, although I could hear clear anger edging her voice. "Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?"

"Hmm, let's think, maybe Lord Voldemort?"

My shoulders tensed and my hands balled into fists in my lap as I stared straightforward, counting in my head to try and exclude myself from this conversation.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter," Professor Umbridge deducted. "Now, let me make this quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead-"

My heart began beating loudly and Neville turned. "Y/N? Are you alright?"

"This is a lie."

"It's not a lie, I saw him!" Harry insisted.

"Detention, Mr. Potter!"

"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?!"

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident!"

The windows suddenly all shattered at once, causing screams to sound through the class. My eyes, which were shut tight, widened in an instant and I looked up, seeing shattered glass along desks and scattered on the floor.

"Professor, we need Madam Pomfrey!" Neville suddenly requested with his hand raised.

My eyes widened even more, worried that he was hurt by the glass. I knew it was me, I felt myself do it. I heard the words in my head repeating, please, something interrupt this conversation, and something did.

"Whatever is the matter, dear?" Umbridge questioned, determined to keep the sweetness in her voice.

"Y/N's hand."

I looked down, suddenly becoming conscious of the blood from a scratch in my palm. It wasn't from glass - my fingernails were dug deep into my skin, and I was far too afraid to take them out.

Professor Umbridge nodded. "Please do take Miss Griffin to Madam Pomfrey." I remembered that I hadn't mentioned my name to her and I turned to see her eyes glaring into me. She knew who I was, and not in the way you'd want a teacher to know you.

As Neville helped my to Madam Pomfrey, as my hands were too occupied with blood to hold a slip, I glanced back to the classroom door to see Harry walk out and go the other direction, towards Professor McGonagall's office.

"...The windows were you, weren't they?" Neville asked after we walked in silence for far too long.

I nodded. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I just didn't-"

"I get it." He sent a warm smile to me before opening the doors to the medical wing.

We entered and Madam Pomfrey was quick to tend to my hands. She didn't ask a word of how I got the wounds and simply worked.

"Okay, off to class now, both of you," she said once she finished. "And do be careful."

"I'll walk you to class," Neville offered.

I walked beside him, still staring at my healed hands, and sighed. "Thanks Neville."

"Anytime. For you, at least."