XVII

On the other side of the castle, Grega was making her way to the greenhouses. She couldn't figure why Sprout had asked to see only her - she wasn't the only one taking the remedial course.

As she approached the Stone Circle, a lone figure clad in black began to form. She didn't need to look twice to see who it was. As she came closer to the monument, she moved away so that there was a wide berth between themselves. It was good like that. At least the girl was making a conscious effort to isolate herself so she wouldn't infect everyone with that abomination. No one else in their right minds would go so close to the Forbidden Forest on their own.

As Grega passed her, she scoffed. Or maybe it was that she was waiting for something to spring out of the forest and purge the castle grounds of her? Either way, good riddance to bad rubbish.

As she hurried past, Veja lifted her eyes a bit. Those ignorant savages. They claimed to be so much more able than muggles, yet they were as bright as worms. Give them a light switch and they couldn't even fathom what it was.

When she was sure no one else was coming, she brought out her sketchbook and began to draw. She didn't want anyone to see it not because she was so good at drawing, but because they would make her drawings a reality.

Everyday she had flashes. Brief depictions of the future to come, and the possible ways it could happen. Others would be horrified and would try to escape it, but she was okay with it, because it was the only way to end the misery. Educate them, you may say, but she knew that magic folk were so thick-headed that they didn't know they were thick-headed.

Some she liked more than the others, because they were quick and meaningless. She just drew everything, so that she was always reminded that there was more than one way to go about it. She always began by drawing her skin first. It was the thing she loathed the most; the reason her life was the way it was. It was the key that had opened the door to misery that become all she knew. She drew the arm, long an slender, and shaded it dark, stopping just below where her elbow would be.

Veja took in a shaky breath. It annoyed her that she did so, seeing as she drew at least three times a day. Yet, she was never prepared to face the reality what would be. She looked up, and blinking back furious tears, slammed the book shut.

Grega wished in earnest that she could strangle the Professor from behind. She was wasting her time - especially since she had a lot to do asides Herbology. It always frustrated her that some teachers acted as if their subjects were the only ones being offered. Hether didn't have to see the Professor, and she- Grega blinked. Hether didn't need to see the professor or any professor for that matter. She was always top of the class and never even studied or practiced.

Why, she could even pass so well that Professor Snape would look like child's play next to her. And she came from a rich family, too. Grega caught herself frowning. It seemed Hether was one of those people who just had everything in life. Grega was about as rich as her, if not richer, but her brains were nowhere close. Perhaps that was why Hether never really spoke to her like she used to before - could it be that she thought of her as beneath her league?

Grega blinked, shocked. Where were all these thoughts coming from? Hether had been nothing short of nice to her. She was a good friend as they came and Grega felt very lucky to know her. But that didn't stop the tiny voice that nagged on at the bottom of her mind, slowly feeding poison into her thoughts.

She looked up at the professor who hadn't glanced her way since she'd come in. "Professor Sprout?"

The plump woman looked up at her with an aloof look on her face. "Yes, my dear?"

"I must leave now." Grega said firmly. "My next class is in a few minutes."

"Goodness, dear, run along!" The professor frowned. "What on earth are you still doing here?"

Grega grimaced and packed up her bag. She was beginning to wonder the same thing. Without a word, she left the greenhouse in silent fury and made her way back through the stone circle. The girl had gone, without a trace. Good riddance, Grega thought, at least she cleared up any trace that spoke of her existence. She was truly a pest. Who did she think she was, coming to such a fine institution and spreading her infection about? Was it because tuition was all paid for? There was even word going about that someone had caught the infection and so had been sent home.

Grega was growing more furious with each thought. Scum like that needed to not just be ridden of, but eradicated; wiped off the surface of all the earth. The wizarding world was a place where only excellence and perfection was condoned.

She wiped a hand down her face and walked out of the chill and into the warmth of the building.

Then, she heard the sound.

It was soft and gentle, like a flowing stream, and sang to her; beckoning to her, pulling her deeper into its sound with each passing melody, until she was warped in it. Like a lantern on a dark night, it guided her through the halls of the castle.

She didn't know what it was, but she didn't question it - it was just too lonely and sorrowful for her to ignore. It called out to her; it understood her predicament, and wanted to sympathise with her; wanted to offer her peace and calm. It would take away the nagging and disbelief, and replace it with quiet. It would do wonders to her, it would-

Grega's eyes closed and she fell into a blissful nothing.