Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, and the characters within are trademarked by J K Rowling. Any part of the plot that is recognizable as Harry Potter canon, is also trademarked by J K Rowling. I have merely added a few of my own original characters, which are creations of my own imagination, and placed them in the world of Harry Potter, for entertainment purposes only. I do not profit from this. Please don't sue me.
Warning: There will probably be cursing in this book from this point forth. It's a bit mild because they're still in second year, etc, but just a heads-up.
She was only on her way back to her dormitory after dinner, when Zia found herself being pushed along by a crowd. As she grunted, and resisted the ridiculous antics of schoolchildren; she found Blaise suddenly standing in front of her. He was urging her to come along, and see what this was about, so she went.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
Filch's horrendous cat hung by her tail, under the massive letters scrawled on the wall in blood. Zia cringed when she felt water leaking into her shoes, but no cringing could compare to the chills that ran down her spine when she heard the next words uttered into the deafening silence.
"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, mudbloods!" His gleeful voice erupted.
Filch arrived shortly after that shout, and starting shaking when he saw his precious cat dangling by the tail. But before he could point fingers all too definitely, Dumbledore and the rest of the staff followed soon to the scene. As the school faculty departed with Potter, Weasley, and Granger, the crowd slowly thinned, leaving few behind. Zia was not one of those few.
She ran through the hall, and rushed into her common room. Spurting by the few inhabitants mulling about, who barely regarded her, she thundered down into her common room. The walls were closing in, and her panic was rising. Suffocating in the atmosphere was unbearable. Needing to move, she paced, eyes darting around frantically. Her eyes locked on her bed, and she went over and pulled up a corner of the sheets.
"Geminio," she whispered at her mattress, and soon had another one. A simple wingardium leviosa helped her in levitating it to the foot of her bed, where she propped it up on her trunk, leaning against the bedposts. The feel of the magic travelling rapidly through her was so exhilarating. It sharpened her senses, she was tense, she was emotional, she was absolutely wild with fury, but she was alive.
Zia took a few steps away, and then stood facing the mattress.
"Diffindo," her voice didn't falter, as she unleashed her anger. She slowly stepped closer and closer, and even as tears started clouding her vision, she didn't finished until there was foam everywhere, and the mattress was unrecognizable.
Suddenly, Zia ran out of spark. She waved a scourgify over the mess surrounding her, and dumped down on her trunk. Now, she was just confused. Scared. Lonely. She just didn't understand why she was less than anybody else because of her blood. All her life, when kids at school would bully her for her darker skin, or for her ethnic background, she was told that it didn't matter. It didn't matter because they all shared the same blood. The same red blood flowed through everybody's veins. It was what mad them human. Now, everything had been turned on its head, and she was being told that her blood made her inferior.
"Awwww. Is the little mudblood sad because she's worthless? Do you need your knight in shining armour to come and comfort you?" Bulstrode burst in, and cooed, mockingly.
Zia was on her feet, glaring down the older girl, ready to give her a piece of her mind.
"I don't need a knight, Bulstrode," she spat her adversary's name venomously. "I need a sword."
Zia picked up her wand and stormed out, heart pounding. As soon as she got to the common room, her eyes started darting around, trying to locate a certain blonde head. A very particular blonde, she wasn't just browsing. She spotted him, and purposefully marched over, pushing aside those who jeered at her, until she was face to face with Malfoy.
"You! You obnoxious, infantile, backwards, pig-headed, bigot! How dare you? How dare you stand there and say that you are better than those who don't have magical heritage? How dare you opinionate that I am inferior to you because I haven't had magic in my family for as long as you have? How dare you spread such ludicrous lies? How dare you not give a damn about the people around you, and only let yourself be driven by those fallacies your father is feeding you?" Zia's sharp tone rung like church bells in the stone of the Slytherin common room.
"Why do you let yourself stay so blind? Why do you let yourself be brainwashed? Why do you not stand up for what you very clearly know is right?" Her words pierced the dead silence of the space, and lassoed everybody in it into Zia's attacks.
"You know what you are doing is wrong. I can see it in your eyes. I can see those crystal ballls filling themselves with mist to hide the guilt deep inside. I can see that you don't want this, and yet you continue. I can see the clarity, the sharpness, the purity of your mind, reflected in your eyes. You still attack, you cause pain, you cause so much more suffering than you can ever imagine. You rip hearts out of rib cages and tear them up until there is only a pool of bitterness, and an empty cavity where the most important part of a human being should reside. You don't even realize that you are in the process of doing the same to yourself," chest heaving with emotion and effort, she held on.
"What the bloody hell happened to you? What, were you never validated by your parents as a child? What, did dear, old Daddy never praise your childhood drawings? What, wouldn't he acknowledge your flying skills? What, did he never treat you like a son?" She bit viciously. Malfoy stood there, silently, stock still, but his eyes. He was angry, his eyes turned to that of a furious storm. His eyes held thunder and lightning. They were angry ocean storms, ready to drown Zia in their unease. But Zia. Zia could swim.
"Well, newsflash. Being an arsehole to those who aren't the same as you isn't going to do shit for you. Being a snobbish prat is not going to make your father appreciate you; he's an abusive bastard who doesn't give a damn what corner of the world you rot in unless it impacts his name, and if you're not careful, you will take his place as such a monster as well," her words stung like wasp bites on his heart; as soon as they hit, the location of impact swelled, and he found himself having difficulty breathing with the shame weighing down his chest.
"Remember, Malfoy. Remember that we're all human. Remember that I am as much dirt as any of you are. Remember that nothing makes any of us better than any other. Remember that we all bleed red. Remember that your intelligence, your brain, isn't going to do you much good if it doesn't cooperate with a kind heart. Remember that you can run from this as much as you like, but you will always, have to live with what I've said to you today. Run, you clever boy, but remember," she breathed, now nose to pointed nose with the young boy, her burning amber orbs piercing his cold, grey ones.
All the emotion had left his eyes. No more anger, guilt, shame. Just a cold, thick shell. A blank mask.
On the other hand, Zia's eyes held more emotion than they ever had. Fierce flames crackled in them, threatening to swallow Malfoy whole. So much pain. Resentment. Wisdom. Pity. Kindness. Fury. She had broken out of her shell. No more masks.
Breaking eye-contact, she pushed past him, and out of the common room. She just walked, and walked and walked. She spotted a little elf, walking into a room, and followed quickly.
"Oh wow," her awed gasps had all the house-elves turning, and she quickly looked down. There were so many of them, all wearing pillow cases, with big eyes, pointy but drooping ears. She waved a timid hello, all her fire gone. They waved back, and one of them walked up, and asked her if she would like something, and to sit down at wherever she usually sat in the Great Hall. They were replicas of the tables upstairs. So this is where the food comes from, Zia thought. She took her seat at the front right corner of the Slytherin table.
The house-elves suddenly started whispering at each other, and Zia was spooked.
"What is it?," she asked the elf who had offered her food.
"It's just that, you never eat meat, Miss. We often have full plates return from you, unless we serve seafood that evening. Are you a vegetarian, Miss? And if so, why didn't you request some alternative arrangement, because we would be happy to accommodate you, Miss," The shy elf squeaked.
"I'm not a vegetarian, but because I'm a Muslim, I can only eat meat that has been slaughtered in a certain manner. Additionally, there are certain foods I can't seat either, but that's not usually the more common problem. I didn't say anything about it, because it would be inconvenient for you to have to go about providing Halal meat for me," Zia smiled, flustered by the care they showed her, and surprised by the hubbub the elves started at her answer.
Their words tumbled over one another, assuring her that they could definitely acquire Halal meat for her, and that it would be their pleasure, and to not worry about it, Miss, and thank you for visiting, and please eat. Zia sampled a few pastries, and then asked if she could stay the evening. The house-elves nodded eagerly, and Zia fell asleep with her head in her arms, tired from the evening's efforts, and yet felt hope rising. But it does not do to dwell on such dreams.
Wow, that was a long chapter. Thank you for reading through to the end, I really appreciate the effort. I'd be eternally grateful if y'all could do me one more favor, and leave a little comment on this chapter. Whether you'd like to tell me if there's anything you liked about my writing, or the chapter generally, or if you want to tell me what I need to work on, or even if you just want to tell me you hated a part of it. I would l be any and every type of feedback.
"She wasn't looking for a knight. She was looking for a sword." -Atticus