Liar. Harry Potter's sister ~ Book 2

chapter twenty-eight

The guilt followed me around like a shadow. I couldn't find the guts to tell Harry about what I did. I've barely spoken a word in two days. My throat is sore and I'm scared that if I open my mouth, I'll spill the whole story. Harry's going to be so disappointed in me. I can tell they're worried about me, but I still keep my mouth tightly shut, giving them some excuse like "I'm just tired," or "It's stress," every time. They've started to doubt my alibis, but I cant tell them anything. Not yet.

Harry and I were called to Snape's office yesterday evening, for another scheduled Occlumency lesson. These lessons have been so utterly draining and tiring, that I dread them more and more each time. I was petrified that Snape would see any of my encounters with Umbridge so, despite my exhaustion, I tried harder than ever. Completely brushing away my efforts, he still managed to scold the two of us for "not practicing enough" and "not clearing our minds" before we go to bed. I couldn't argue with that. Practicing Occlumency was the last thing on my mind at the moment, I barely give it a second thought in between our lessons. Dumbledore would be disappointed, undoubtedly, but I had bigger things on my mind.

The Cruciatus Curse seems to have taken a massive toll on me, that even I have noticed myself acting differently. I've been falling asleep in classes, loosing my appetite, spending most of my free time in my dorm, away from everybody else and leaving unfinished homework pieces to pile up in the bottom of my trunk, procrastinating doing them at all costs. My own brain was turning against me: shouting at me, guilt tripping me, making me feel nothing but negative emotions.

But, here I was, still standing. Standing in the middle of a DA meeting, to be precise. Watching my classmates cast spells at one another, taking it in turns to be on the receiving end of hexes and defending themselves from them. They were all so happy. They had no clue of the betrayal I had done. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. My intuition was screaming at me: trying to tell me something bad was going to happen. I was standing against the stone wall, examining what was happening in the room, my fingernails pressing tightly against the sweaty palms of my hands, in tension. My face was burning, with what I assumed to be embarrassment or anxiety, but I was very wrong.

"You alright, Olivia?" a voice says. I look up and see Harry, Ron and Hermione surrounding me. They catch a glimpse of my face and their expressions warp into a confused, yet disgusted one.

"What?" I snap, eyes darting between their faces, fear seeping into my skin, heart pumping painfully in my chest. They stay silent. "Hello? What are you looking at?"

I huff in annoyance, pushing myself off the wall and sprinting over to the fireplace, where a large, golden framed mirror hung above it. I step in front of it and shriek at the sight: the skin around my nose and cheeks was a deep red colour and irritated. It looked as though I had been slashed across the face with a whip. I watched as my skin boiled almost, forming bulging, pus-filled pimples across my face. My heart sinks into my stomach as my eyes trace over the word they had spelt out: SNEAK.

I clap my hand over my mouth in shock. My whole body freezes. The air seems to have been sucked right out of my lungs. Oh Merlin. Please no. Not now. I curse Hermione's bloody enchantments, knowing that they had, obviously already seen my face. Fuck. They know. No, no, no, no.

I cover my face with my hands, spreading two fingers in front of my eyes to take a look through the mirror. I could no longer see Harry, Ron and Hermione staring at me. Their attention was focused on something at their feet. I whip my body around, my heart racing inside my chest, my breathing heavy and quick.

I quickly see Dobby the house elf, standing at Harry's feet, tugging on his robes, looking panicked. Most of the rooms attention was focused on him, his feet slipping under his body, making him topple to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, using the hem of Harry's robe to pull himself up.