𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖗𝖎𝖒 [h. potter]

V

§§§

V: THE LUCKY CHARM

§§§

§§§

For lack of a better term, dinner that night was absolutely exhausting for Pippa. All anyone could talk about was Harry Potter and Professor Umbridge. It was quite annoying, especially considering how her friends were now partaking in the gossip, talking amongst themselves about Harry's allegations. Padma was a stark defender of the boy, saying that Dumbledore's word is trustworthy, but Micheal and his family were a bit more skeptical regarding the headmaster. Terry remained relatively torn between both sides, in defense of both Padma and Micheal occasionally.

"Bloody hell, Padma! I still can't believe your family follows Dumbledore like some lost puppies! Bloke's got to be well over 100 by now—"

"That means he's wise!"

"That means he's a crackpot old fool!" Micheal threw his hands up in the air. "Besides, what gives Potter the right to talk to Umbridge like that? It is because he's 'The Boy Who Lived'? Then call me 'The Boy Who Couldn't Give Less of a Fuck'! I hate her just as much as anyone else, but she's still a teacher!"

"I'd hardly call her that," Terry mumbled under his breath. Normally, Terry's witty remarks like that would elicit a giggle of sorts from Pippa, but today she was upset, far too upset to giggle. Her and Terry resigned themselves to watching their friends go at each other, not too differently from the rest of the students in the Great Hall arguing. Albeit, Pippa didn't notice any of them to be as particularly inflamed at the one unfolding in front of her.

Padma's face flushed a hot red, and she snapped, ranting on about how Dumbledore had given the Wizarding World no reason to doubt him, and nor had Harry Potter, and how the boy was right in what he did in class today. Terry resigned himself to his plate after he tried to interrupt Padma, only to be met with a flurry of scoldings.

"That's it! I'm done! I'm sick of this shit!" Pippa slammed her hands against the table, making her plate, which was still full of food — Pippa couldn't bring herself to eat — rattle. She took a deep breath before continuing, lowering her voice, "Now, I'm going to study in the Common Room. I don't want to talk to any of you until you stop acting like children and have a civil conversation. In case you didn't realize, You-Know-Who doesn't care about you guys, he's after people like me! So shut up and think, you lot are bloody Ravenclaw's for Merlin's sake!"

Pippa turned on her heel and stormed off, quickly walking out of the Great Hall. She huffed her way through the corridors, listening to the rain patter against the windows of the castle, only interrupted by the occasional thunderclap or particularly chatty painting (the latter of which Pippa ignored). A million thoughts raced through Pippa's mind. She was angry at Umbridge, frustrated at her friends, and, at the forefront of Pippa's racing mind, she was scared. If, just if, what Harry claimed back in Umbridge's class was even remotely true, Pippa and her family were in big trouble. She was a Muggleborn after all, a trait she was frequently reminded of as some bigoted Slytherins, mostly Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode, flung slurs and degradations at her.