Over the last few weeks, life at Hogwarts has gotten harder and harder. What started as a wonderful experience was turning into a dreadful time. The classes aren't too bad as Herbology and Arithmancy didn't require much wand work, so I excelled quite well. But Charms and Transfiguration seemed much harder to hide my obvious secret. Thankfully Professors Flitwick and McGonagall were extremely understanding and always found a way to get me out of doing magic. And not to mention Professor Moody's class; always so dark and dreary, I hated that subject.
But people started to notice my lack of magic and created rumours about me. I tried to not allow their petty lies and insults to get to me, but it did. Especially when it caused the entire school population to give me weird looks.
"Look at the Muggleborn; more muggle than a witch, don'cha think?" Pansy laughed, elbowing her friends. Stupid Slytherin.
"We call know you're in love with me, Pansy, no need to be rude to hide it," I rolled my eyes.
Pansy's face reddened at my comment, while people around her snickered. "As if! A mudblood like you, never."
"Whatever you say," I mused and continued walking down the corridor.
"Pull out your wand," she shouted as I walked away. "Pull out your wand and prove you're a witch, duel me."
Fear slowly snaked its way through my mind at her comment, but I shrugged in response, turning to look at her, "I don't need to use magic to fight with you. Put your wand away and we can fight without weapons."
"Weak," Pansy scoffed and her friends laughed alongside her.
"And there's a reason you were put in Slytherin and not Ravenclaw– you're more impulsive than you are smart. Only idiots are that hasty. It doesn't take someone with eyes to see that." Not listening to her response, I turned away and went down the stairs towards the Quidditch Field.
Since it was my last class of the day, I spent my spare period outside enjoying the view. Thankfully, it wasn't raining and I was allowed to lay down on the grass, in the middle of the field. Due to the fact that there was no reason to train for Quidditch— because of the Tournament— no one was on the field. I took advantage of the peace and quiet.
Following my arrival at Hogwarts, there hasn't been a time I've been alone. Whether I was researching about house-elves with Hermione or helping the two boys with their assignments, I was always with them. Although I enjoy my time with the three of them, I didn't feel connected with them. I didn't know whether it was because they'd built their own friendship over the last three years or because I know everything about them, we didn't fully connect. I felt like a fourth wheel, per se.
"Uh, are you okay?" a voice called out.
Propping myself up on my elbows, I looked up to meet the stare of a grey-eyed boy. "Uh, for the most part."
"Hm, what are you doing out here... alone... in the middle of the pitch?" he asked. From the look of his attire, he looked like a Quidditch player. He had a yellow and black checkered uniform on, held a large broom and wooden box.
"Relaxing?" I blurted, more like a question than an answer. "Are you a Quidditch player?"
"What gave it away? The broom or the box?"
"Your funny-looking pants," I hummed.
"Hey! My 'funny-looking pants' are perfectly normal. They're my practice gear," he mimicked me.
"I like you, you're funny."
"Thank you. Your accent is funny," he pointed out.
"Hm, where do you think I'm from?"
"Uh, Australia?" he tried.
"That's a new one. Nope, America," I corrected him.
"Ah, so close."
"Close? They're on the opposite sides of the world!" I laughed at him.
"But they both start with 'A'," he explained. I laughed harder at him and sat up. "So are you going to lay there all day or get up so I can practice my quidditch skills?"
"Oh! I'm sorry," I quickly stood up and dusted off my pants.
"I was joking, but thank you for standing up so quickly," he laughed. He placed down his gearbox and broom on the grass and placed his arms on his hips, staring at me.
"What?" I smiled.
"What what?"
"You're staring at me."
"You're nice to stare at," he confessed.
At his confession, my eyes widened and I laughed a little, "I'm sorry, that was really bad."
"Yeah, I kind of just went for it."
"I can tell," I smiled, "what's your name?"
"Diggory. Cedric Diggory," he smiled. My smile dropped slightly at his name. A memory flashed in my head; his death.
"Nice name," I gulped. "Uh, I've got to go, but let me tell you something: I'd take a second thought before you place your name into the Goblet of Fire."
"Into the what?" he asked.
"For the Triwizard Tournament. Think twice before submitting your name. It's a big responsibility for the prize it gives," I informed.
Picking up my bag and the few books I had placed on the ground, I nodded at him and walked away. Walking towards the entrance of the school, a voice called out at me. I turned around to see Cedric jogging over to me.
"How did you know I was thinking about trying out to go into the Tournament?" he asked.
I shrugged and moved my bag on my shoulder, "I can tell. You have this vibe. Good luck."
"Thanks," he nodded and awkwardly jogged back to his practice spot.
At the door, I met another boy who I seem to not be able to get rid of.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked.
"Hello, Draco," I sighed softly.
"I asked you a question," he responded and walked down the steps. My eyebrows knitted at the sound of his voice. He sounded angry but looked calm.
"Uh, I'm enjoying the fresh air, is that a crime?" I retorted.
"I hear what they say about you," admitted Draco.
The small smile on my face fell into a full scowl. Of course, he did, his wannabe girlfriend probably told him.
"Oh," I breathed, "well let me get out of your way. You don't want to be seen fraternizing with a muggleborn or Mudblood or blood traitor or whatever your favourite insult of the day is."
The words felt sour in my mouth and left me feeling dirty. From the moment I learned those words, I hated them.
"Wait," Draco said, lightly grabbing my wrist. "I— Those words aren't very nice."
"And neither are you," I spat before I could think. His face changed from his normally stony look. "I– I know you. You don't want to caught talking with, or even befriending, with someone of my status."
"Wait, what do you—"
"I'm not who you think I am, Draco. I'm not this nice girl who looks past your judgemental personality. You think I don't hear you when you call people names and knock their books out of their hands. You act as if I'm not friends with your sworn enemies, they tell me everything."
"Then who are you?" Draco asked bitterly. "Better yet, who am I, since you claim to know me so well."
"You don't even know my name," I pulled my arm out of his grip and go up the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room.
My feet carried me through the halls while my mind runs a million miles a second. Why did he bother me so much? I'm not even– I'm nobody.
The halls were empty as most people were in their classes learning spells and potions. I said a little prayer that I don't run into Peeves, not wanting to deal with his ghoulish pranks. All I wanted to do was go into my room and hide under the covers until Hermione came back. Turning the corner, I manage to bump into a hard surface and knock myself over.
"Whoa, whoa, Lottie, you okay? It's like you're running from something," a voice joked. Looking up, I met the face of Fred Weasley. His smile fell at the look on my face, "you're not running from something, are you?"
Extending his hand, he helped me up and picked up my bag. "No, I'm just—"
Shoes slid on the floor to a halt and Fred scoffed, "what will it be, Malfoy?"
I turned to face Draco, who held a look of disappointment and disgust on his face, "nothing, Weasley. You're in my way." He moved past me and bumped Fred.
"Pick on someone your own size, Malfoy," Fred stuck his tongue out at Draco, but he kept walking. "Were you running from him?"
"Not necessarily," I shrugged.
"Have you heard?" asked Fred. I hummed a response. "The talk of the school? People seem to be buzzing about you. No clue what you've done, but your entire year is asking questions about you."
"Not you too," I sighed, walking away from him.
" 'Is she a witch, is she a muggle, is she pure, or is she mixed?' " Fred announced like a sports commentator as he walked next to me. When I didn't laugh at his joke, he stopped me, "wait, is that what you're upset about?"
"I– I don't know. I guess. I just– I'm just homesick," I shrugged, again.
"Awe, come on. No need to be sad! This is the only time of your life where you can get away from your parents and be free without the responsibilities of an adult!" he joked, again.
"I guess."
"Well, how about we get you some of those french fries and pizza you were talking about that one day," Fred suggested in a horrible American accent that sounded more Southern than my own.
I cracked a smile and so did he. Linking my arm in his, he led me towards the kitchen via a secret tunnel. Down and around the tunnel, we made it to the kitchen. Around the kitchen ran small creatures with had large, tennis-ball-sized eyes, a pencil-like nose, and long, batty pointed ears. House-elves.
"Whoa," I awed.
"Isn't the kitchen amazing?" Fred laughed.
"Yeah," I nodded, although I was more in awe of the house-elves than the actual kitchen.
"Hello, Miss," one of them acknowledged me after acknowledging Fred.
"H-Hi," I greeted. "I'm Charlotte, what's your name?"
The elf looked so surprised at my question, his smile beamed in delight, "Toffer."
"This is my favourite place to come!" Fred exclaimed.
"I can see why," I laughed at the sight of a dozen house-elves surrounding him, bringing cookies and pastries.
"What would Miss Charlotte like, miss? Toffer gets you anything you like, miss," Toffer offered.
"Well Toffer, we were wondering if you would be so kind as to get Lottie, here, some... pizza? And french fries– which are just chips, but with an American name!" explained Fred. Toffer nodded eagerly and ran over to the other house-elves.
"I'm still in shock, this place is amazing."
"Isn't it! I love the kitchen," Fred agreed.
I lightly punched his arm and laughed, "no, I mean Hogwarts. It's so cool. Not just the kitchen, but the school itself."
"Eh, it's school. It's like any other wizarding school," he shrugged. "I bet Ilvermorny is just like this! You said concession lines, but I still think it's pretty cool."
I stared blankly as I watched him do arm movements around the room and used his hands to describe the places around the castle. Fred looked so proud and seemed to love the idea of Hogwarts and its ability, he made me feel safe.
"I didn't go to a wizarding school in America," I blurted out. As quickly as I said it was as quickly as I regretted it.
Fred stopped talking and turned to me, as much as he could on the bench, "yes you did. You went to Ilvermorny."
"I lied," I whispered.
"Then where did– thank you," Fred cut himself off as Toffer and two other house-elves brought an entire pizza and a basket of french fries over to us.
"Thank you, Toffer and... Toffer's friends," I smiled widely. They all gushed and turned around, going back to their duties.
"As I was saying," Fred continued while taking a bite of the pizza, "–this is really good, wow. But as I was saying, what do you mean you didn't go to a wizarding school? You told us you did and even Dumbledore said it before you got sorted."
"He lied, too."
"How— What do you mean Dumbledore lied?"
"He lied for my sake. I— he lied so I wouldn't cause a scene if people found out," I confessed.
"Found out what?"
"That... I don't— I'm not a—" the words couldn't form in my mouth. As hard as I tried, the secret wouldn't spill.
"You're not a witch, are you?" asked Fred. I shook my head. "then how— you– you don't practise magic, do you? T-the rumours have some truth," he concurred.
The look on Fred's face was enough to break my heart. He looked betrayed and confused.
"How– how is that. . . possible?"
"I don't know," I shook my head. "I just– It happened. I ran at the wall, I boarded the train. I got sorted. Here I am."
"How– how did you know to—"
"There are books. Books about your life and your family's lives and Harry's life. Everyone's," I explained. I explained from the beginning. Everything I told Dumbledore and everything he told me, including the letter I got about not being able to tell anyone anything.
"Bloody hell," Fred rubbed his hand over his face in awe. "Can you tell me anything about myself? Do I find a girl? Do I pass my N.E.W.T.s? How many children do I—"
"Fred," I said. My heart broke at his questions as another memory flashed through my mind: His death. "I– I already told you: I'm not allowed to tell you anything. Already me saying I'm not. . . supposed to be here is too much information."
"Not even one little thing?" Fred pleaded.
"Y-You live a long happy life," I stuttered, blatantly lying to his face.
"Yes! I told George we'd be happy if we— I can't wait to tell—"
"No!" I cut him off. "You can't tell anyone! Please. Not even your brother. I get it, you're twins and all, but please," I beg.
"Your secret is safe with me," Fred extended his hand and shook mine.
"I'm serious, Fred. This is a matter of life and death."
"I know, I know. Trust me," Fred offered. I shook his hand and smile. Quickly, I pulled him in for a hug, allowing him to embrace me tightly.
"Thank you," I whispered. I smiled into his shoulder and finally pull apart to see over a dozen house-elves watching us. I shrieked and jumped back.
"Toffer and friends sorry, miss. Toffer wanted to see happy moment. Miss Charlotte and Mister Fred kiss... date night, yes," Toffer smiled.
"We're not dating—"
"This isn't a date—" we said at the same time.
And just like that, we took our leftovers and left for our rooms. I just hope I had made the right decision in telling Fred my secret.