Unsorted [COMPLETED] {Harry Potter - Wizarding World}

chapter 13

"I'll sit with you." said Oliver. Both Hermione and I looked at him in shock. "I know the Gryffindors will understand why I'm sitting with my sister and I don't really care what the other Slytherins think."

I couldn't hide the smile on my face and neither could Hermione, although hers was that of a proud mother. She gave Oliver an approving nod before she departed back to her table. Hermione had always been apprehensive of my brother since the time I had explained my odd situation.

"Are you sure?" I asked him. I could see the idea made him nervous but he was being the big brother I had forgotten that I knew. He nodded, walking over to the back end of the table where there was space and sitting down. I laughed to myself as a few of them glared at them but he just gave them the signature smile he had made famous. I quickly sat opposite him and honestly, you couldn't slap the grin off my face.

"So," Oliver started between mouthfuls of the huge plate before him. I had forgotten how much this boy could eat; he rivalled Ron Weasley and that was saying something. "Will you come and watch the next Quidditch game? I think it's against Ravenclaw but McGonagall hasn't said officially yet."

I consciously glanced down the table at the Slytherins who were still sparing time from eating to look down the end of the table to us. I was aware of it, but with Oliver here, it didn't phase me.

"Yeah, sure. I've only missed one of your games since I got here." I said, watching him beam happily back at me.

"You have to get back on the sticks soon too, Kyla. You're a well trained talent going to waste." He said.

"I already told you I can't play against you. Plus, I couldn't get in the team if I was the best there was. I'm not exactly house favourite. They think I'm all Gryffindor blood." I laughed at the sad situation. A depression had lifted from my shoulders in the last two hours. Talking to Oliver like we were best friends again was the best feeling in the world. Everything didn't seem so dark. Being Slytherin didn't feel so shameful knowing there was blood in me that made it an option.

"Well, okay. I don't think I could play properly if I was against you anyway. But I mean, come and practise with me some time. Obviously not with the Gryffindor team but we could just play like we used to." Oliver suggested, batting off a harsh side-eye sent down the table from Pansy Parkinson who was so obviously listening to everything we were saying.

"That would be nice." I said gleefully.

"You still got your broom?" He asked and I shook my head, looking down the table briefly.

"Broken." I lied. Millicent and Blaise Zabini, another one of Malfoy's followers, had stolen it at the end of first year and hexed it. I had kicked off in a flying lesson with Madam Hooch and within seconds I had gone flying off backwards and the broom directed itself straight for the whomping willow tree. It was never ever recovered due to the amount of pieces.

"I'll sort something out." Oliver looked at me, unconvinced with my story but he didn't press me. He wouldn't here, sat at the Slytherin table. I nodded back to him, laying my knife and fork down. I saw Oliver check my plate, noticing there was still some food there, but he said nothing. I was still full from lunch.

After we had finished eating and Dumbledore gave his welcome back messages, I bid my farewell to Oliver and began to walk back towards my dorm room after declining his offer to be escorted several times.

I was already yawning by the time I had got up to my dorm room. Pansy and Millicent were bound to be up soon so I quickly changed into a my pyjamas and grabbed my wand. I was going to read one of the books Oliver had bought me, but knowing Pansy, as soon as she saw me reading she would turn the lights off I would need to use Lumos. For the slice of privacy, I drew the translucent curtains around my bed.

"Oh, shut up Pansy! Draco so fancies you." I heard Millicent booming up the stairs, giggled shared between the two of them. Ah, this conversation... again. Pansy said he didn't fancy her so that Millicent would say he did. That got repeated around six times before Pansy says she's not good enough so that Millicent says she is. That repeats. It's a vicious circle but it keeps them occupied before they fall asleep.

"Blimey," Pansy scoffed. I assumed it was towards me as I saw her saunter over to her bed in the corner of my eye. "She's not hiding downstairs for once."

Millicent shared a bored laugh, as if their conversation before was so much more interesting. I had to imagine keeping up with Pansy's bullying got tiresome after a while, especially when there was less and less to say about me. She was kind of wearing my name out.

"Why aren't you hiding, Wood?" Pansy egged me on. I slipped my hand down to grab my wand without her seeing but ignored her. It wasn't long before she was tearing back the curtains to my bed and staring at me with her nose turned up, as usual.

"Nothing to hide from." I said without raising my eyes from my book. I could see perfectly well over the top, not acknowledging her was winding her up. It probably wasn't the best thing to do but it felt good to be confident enough to do it.

"Oh, is that so!" Pansy retorted but could fathom nothing to follow up with. The one time I had retaliated before I had drawn my wand on her and her thinking Dumbledore punished me. Me actually remaining calm wasn't something she knew what to do with.

"Yeah." I said, in a bored tone as I flipped the page. She crossed her arms and stared down at me for a while before huffing and turning back to her bed where she started to loudly complain about my brother being at the Slytherin table. It made me feel better that it aggravated her.

Once they had fallen asleep, I put my book down and redrew my curtains. If she was going to try and do something to me in my sleep, the sound of them opening might wake and give me a chance to defend myself. I had managed it twice before in previous occurrences.

As midnight came about, I was still awake and I laid looking towards the ceiling thinking only of one person, Desdemona Rosier.