Julie Stone was a regular girl; she lived in an orphanage, had some friends, and every now and then would bang her head against the wall due to stress. . . . Normal!
Anyway, all her life Julie never seemed to quite fit in. She loved it, but her life...
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𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍 (𝒚𝒂𝒚, 𝒏𝒐𝒕!)
────── *•. ⚡︎ .•*──────
Breakfast the next morning, Hermione was immediately cleared by professor McGonagall to continue with Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, Potions (even if she had only gotten an 'E'), Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures. And looking bored she set off to the first period, Ancient Runes, with Blaise.
"Theo told me what you said to him," Blaise whispered to her when the Professor had his back turned.
Hermione looked up from her notebook and gave Blaise a small smile. "You would have done the same."
"I would, but mother doesn't let me," Blaise grumbled under his breath. "She said not to affiliate with 'Death Eaters'."
"What?" Hermione frowned.
"She said that she didn't want anything to do with the Dark Lord," Blaise explained not looking at her but rather at the blackboard in the classroom. "It would only get us in trouble. Mother says we'll be out of England if everything goes to shit."
"So you'll go back to Italy?" said Hermione, now giving her full attention to Blaise. "Is that what you want?"
"Nah," he whispered shaking his head. "I want to stay here. Fight. Lookout after Theo, and Daph, and you. I want to be useful."
After saying this, Blaise went back to his parchment, not giving Hermione a chance to answer.
By the end of the class though, their tense aura had been replaced by despair. And Blaise listened in amusement as Hermione rambled on about the fifteen-inch essay and the two translations they had to do for Runes.
"I mean, it's the first bloody day!" Hermione huffed as they joined the queue to Defense Against the Dark Arts. She spotted Harry and Ron and smiled at Blaise. "See you later, BZ."
"See you, Mione."
With that, she left Blaise and went to join Harry and Ron. And just as she was about to greet them with her complaints about the amount of homework, the classroom door opened, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.
"Inside," he said.
Snape had imposed his personality upon the room already; it was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.
