❝Why don't you talk to more people, show everyone this side of you? ❞
❝Because Harry, not everyone has the luxury of being themselves.❞
Elodie Lestrange was a bitter, silent and unapproachable Gryffindor. Daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange she was used...
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ELODIE LESTRANGEsurprisingly had never had a detention before this point. Most teachers avoided her like the plague, her last name was enough to quake fear into them. The rest of the teachers were like Professor McGonagall, with a secret pitying soft spot for the tough girl, and refrained from giving her any punishments. Her mother was enough of a punishment already.
Elodie raised a curled fist to knock on Professor Umbridge's office door, but before she had even made contact with the wood, the door had swung open. Peering in, Elodie stepped inside hesitantly, her eyes hooded and cold as she scanned the sickeningly pink space.
Her stomach jolted uncomfortably as she spotted Harry James Potter already seated at a small round table across from Professor Umbridge's desk, his hands were balled up so tightly Elodie knew his fingernails must be bruising his palms. It seemed it was taking everything inside him not to launch himself at Umbridge.
"Good evening Miss Lestrange, how kind of you to join us," Professor Umbridge squeaked, a self satisfied smirk lacing across her plump cheeks. Elodie couldn't help but roll her hazel eyes spitefully as she glared down at Umbridge.
"Good evening Professor, how kind of you to not give me any other choice." Elodie echoed Umbridge's words twistedly as she dropped her bag to the floor carelessly and sat down opposite Harry. Harry frowned as he looked at Elodie's face, it was contorted slightly with an expression he almost thought resembled defence. It looked like Elodie was expecting to be attacked by Umbridge. Her spine was as straight as a tree trunk, her eyes unyielding and frosty.
"Mr Potter has already been given his special quill for his notes. Miss Lestrange, I have the same quill for you-" beamed Umbridge as she handed it over. Elodie snatched it out of her hands so quickly the movement was a flash. Professor Umbridge seemed rather unnerved by this and her smug expression dissolved quickly, eyeing Elodie with trepidation as if she were a bomb at risk of exploding.
"Mr Potter, I want you to write 'I must not tell lies'. Miss Lestrange, I want you to write 'I will not deceive.'" Elaborated Professor Umbridge. Elodie was barely listening, her eyes trained on the quill in her hand as she twirled it around in her fingers like it was a baton of fire. Harry watched the intricate movement with curiosity and almost jumped when he heard Elodie's voice.
"You're sick, Professor."
She was staring up at Professor Umbridge with such a burning hatred, Harry almost felt it was palpable in the air. Professor Umbridge simply ignored Elodie's words and refused to meet her eyes, instead busying herself with organising her desk with a slight hiccup of worry.
