The Crow

Chapter 4. Secrets

Neveah Crow

It's been a few days since Draco and I met at the Astronomy Tower. Call me ignorant, but I thought he would at least in look my direction. Call me foolish, but I thought we would still share a conversation in public. Even I blame myself for pretending such things could happen.

I should know better, but some part of me still hoped for a friendship. I still believed we could return to the way we were as children. Instead, he looks at me as if I were a stranger. That's if he would look at me at all.

School feels wasteful. I sit and listen to questions I already know the answers to for hours a day. An upside, I suppose, to the constant torture of learning at my grandparents' hands. No professor is yet to test my knowledge, all besides one.

It seems as though every day, Professor Umbridge is gaining more power. Somehow, she began creating proclamations out of thin air. Ruling with an 'Iron Fist', the atmosphere feels stiff most days. Although I haven't been around long enough to decide, I know this is not the place it used to be. It's not the magical tale I imagined, the ones my mother and father would tell me as a child. The stories that caused me to beg for a chance to attend.

"Neveah!" Hermione barged into the room, pulling me off the bed without a moment to think. "Hurry, come quick. We have to see Harry!"

Before I could ask what the stress was for, she had already replied with a vague answer. It's Umbridge. Of course it was. She took my hand and dragged me out into the halls.

"Harry got himself in detention."

"Detention? What's so bad about that?" Detention was thrown around daily for the most minor inconvenience. It wasn't necessarily uncommon for Harry to be in trouble. It was clear most teachers, and students, had a vendetta against him.

"Take a look for yourself." I quickly realized the intensity of the situation. Hermione ripped Harry's hand from under his lap, exposing a large scar. It seemed to be fresh, on its way to healing. It bruised purple from his dorsal to his knuckles. Words etched into his skin in bright red, a terrible thing to look at.

"Bloody hell, what happened!" I couldn't help but gasp, clutching his hand in my own. Up close, you could see his strained veins. I knew exactly what happened, a Blood Quill. One of the simpler punishments I endured as a child.

"Umbridge is torturing the students, starting with Harry." Rons arms were crossed, legs shoulder width apart. He hovered over Harry protectively. An angry, yet scared, look plastered on his face

"You have to tell Dumbledore." I looked at him earnestly. His face seemed so casual, not many would question it. But I knew the pain the quill caused, one that doesn't just go away.

Harry had refused everyone's advice, despite the seriousness. I did my best to help him realize, but I knew it wouldn't change his mind. I spoke of her evil, the way she sought power. It was best to end it sooner rather than later.

"I suppose you're right," he mumbled, "but for now I'd rather just move past it."

"If this gets any worse Harry, I swear I'll hex her once and for all." Hermione commented on what she called my 'angry face,' causing us all to let out a small laugh. Harry insisted on dropping the matter. We agreed, for now, and made our way to lunch.

***

School felt calm, almost too calm. Recently, I've begun to see less and less of the group. They seem to always be busy, or running late at the same time. At first, I thought their one day of kindness had run out. That was until I caught them whispering when they thought I'm away. Quieting themselves when I'm around.