She climbed out of the rubble, desperately searching for him despite the searing pain in her leg.

-

Taylor Bristol was your average witch. She always earned 'Exceeds Expectations' on her exams. She had a group of friends from her house, which was Hufflepuff. She had her share of likes and dislikes. To some, she looked ordinary, to others, she looked beautiful. To herself, she looked horrible. Every day she would look at herself in the mirror, her pale skin and brown, tangled hair, and want to cry. She often had to hide her anxieties about simple things. Her sleep was filled with nightmares of that night... that night that seemed like yesterday but it'd been years. But aside from these small complications, she was totally average.

Her first year at Hogwarts was inexplicably magical - quite literally. Her parents were muggles so she wasn't used to floating candles and ghosts. By the end of the year, she found herself with more friends than she reckoned she would have. Heidi Macavoy, a chaser for the Quidditch team, Cedric Diggory, the team's seeker, Anthony Otterburn, spends most of his time in the greenhouse, Malcolm Preece, another chaser, Maxine O'Flaherty, a beater, and Karl Limpley, the leader of the Duelling Club. Taylor wanted to play Quidditch someday.

She loved her friends for so many reasons. Heidi was kind and compassionate, Maxine was eager and encouraged Taylor. Anthony was a nice break from schoolwork and Max's loud personality. Cedric and Malcolm were always helpful. They were both older than her and helped with her homework on numerous occasions. She was grateful to have so many people to talk to, she was cripplingly nervous that she'd be lonely at a giant school for seven years.

Until her third year, she didn't hang out with anyone outside of her house. She had found comfort in their repeated presence, knowing they'd always be there. Taylor also hated confrontation and would avoid bickering with anybody. She wasn't sure if she'd get on with the kids in other houses, so she didn't try. There's also a lot of competitiveness between houses, and Taylor just wanted peace.

-

"It'd be nice if we could all be equal and live in peace," she said once, to Heidi Macavoy in their common room. She was staring out of one of the windows above her head, watching the spring storm outside. The thunder and lightning filled her thoughts, wondering if the two are fighting or working together. If the rain was a product of chaos or unity.

"Yeah, I guess. It would never happen though." Heidi dismissed her, going back to her book. They were sitting on the plush chairs near the fireplace, supposed to be reading chapter fifteen of "A History of Magic." Taylor couldn't focus on the words. Her thoughts pulled and begged for her attention.

"Tay, was the International Statute of Secrecy established in 1690 or 1691?" When she didn't get an answer, Heidi glanced up from the page. She rolled her eyes at Taylor, who was still staring out of the window. "Tay... Taylor!" She grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it in her direction.

Startled, Taylor diverted her attention from the thick gray clouds back to reality. "It was 1689," she mumbled quickly without looking at Heidi. "Just making sure you're paying attention." Heidi smiled at her sarcastically. Taylor laughed slightly and glanced at the words on the pages of her book. She decided not to continue to attempt reading, it gave her a headache. 

"You're so philosophical for a twelve-year-old. It's unnerving." 

"I don't mean to be." 

-

Heidi's comment resurfaces on Tay's thoughts all the time. She had said that to her months ago, but she thinks about it every day. Wondering how and why she thought about certain things in the way she did. It's because you're fucked up. Trauma does that to a person.

She immediately pushes this thought from her head, like she's done countless times before. So deep in thought, she forgot she was sitting in the Quidditch stands. Cedric flying closely above her head after the snitch is what brought her back to here, to now. She inhales sharply, placing a hand on her chest. "You alright?" The voice came from Anthony, who was watching the game beside her. She nods and manages a light smile. Cedric is after the snitch, trailing close behind it. They were playing Slytherin, their seeker seemed to be going for Cedric and not the snitch. Taylor always hated how the Slytherins played so unfairly, but not enough to break any rules. The Slytherin team got a new seeker this year, and Taylor strains to remember his name. Now that she noticed the absence of his name from her mind, the only thing she was focused on was remembering. It got frustrating after a few minutes, still not being able to recall the name of the young Slytherin boy. She'd seen him before around the castle, with light blond hair and blue eyes. She almost missed when Lee Jordan, the commentator, says "Malfoy's straight on Diggory's tail! It's time to put that new broom to use!"

Of course! Draco Malfoy, that was his name. Some pure blood in her year. She only knows he's pure-blood because wherever he goes, he makes sure everyone knows it. She's seen him arguing with a couple of Gryffindor students. Taylor never intervenes, but she watches. Harry Potter is almost always one of those students. She didn't know him but she could write an essay on his life. She mentally collects information, remembering specific details that some people may overlook. Like how Cedric would look around to his friends while they talked, searching for validation. Or how Heidi pets her cat, a Siamese named Ollie. She strokes his back and then scratches his head. Always in that order.

Sometimes Taylor wished that people would notice things like that about her. Not because she wanted someone to notice, but because that would mean there's another person out there who pays attention as she does. Who thinks as she does. How she eats the food on her plate from right to left, how she doesn't step on certain stairs, the way she cracks her knuckles when she's nervous. She remembers her mum's voice: "Keep doing that and you'll get Arthritis."

That turned out to be a myth. Taylor's best guess as to why her mother told her this was because her mother told her the same thing. Or maybe she was just annoyed at her and wanted her to stop, trying to scare her out of doing it. Taylor wishes she had stopped if that meant easing her mum's mind. Her mum, who always complained of headaches.

When she looks back up to the game, a bludger is hit in her direction. Unintentionally of course, but now there was a bludger hurdling full speed at her. She freezes at that moment, unable to think for once. The students around her yelp and move out of the way. She hears a student swearing, "Oh shit oh shit!" A hand that she later found out belongs to Anthony gripped her arm and pulled her out of the way. She can hear the whizz of the bludger flying past her head, and the loud crash it makes when it comes into contact with the stands.

The game still continuing, they were all escorted off the stands, careful not to step on the wrong plank of wood and cause the entire thing to collapse. The group had just gotten in a different section of the stands, when Lee Jordan's voice boomed over the pitch, louder than usual. "Malfoy's caught the snitch! Slytherin wins 180-40!" Disappointment threatened to cross Taylor's face. It had been a bloody brilliant game, and he was hopeful Hufflepuff would win. Not only is it a victory and puts them closer to the Quidditch Cup, but beating Slytherin would have been water on the inferno that are stereotypes about Hufflepuff. 

Back in the common room, no one else tried to hide their frustration. They were so close, if it weren't for Malfoy's father buying Slytherin's team all new brooms - Taylor was sure they would have won. The night was rainy, it was November now. The rain reminds her of the conversation with Heidi in the spring. Taylor sits in the common room for as long as she can before heading off to her dorm to sleep. She doesn't like spending much time in her dorm because the other bed is vacant. She finds it lonely and sad. A loud crack of thunder shakes the walls and Taylor squeezes her eyes shut. She loved the rain but she couldn't handle storms like these. Where the rain on the roof sounds like golf balls and the lightning flashed across the sky, daring to strike the ground. The thunder was deafening and continuous. For about twenty miserable seconds, Taylor felt only afraid. Her eyes were still clenched shut and her arms wrapped around her knees. 

When it was finally over - feeling like hours later, though it was mere seconds - Taylor looked up to see Cedric had come down the stairs. He was looking at her confused and worried. She was slightly embarrassed that someone had seen her scared of a storm. Cedric didn't look like he was going to make fun of her, though. He sat down next to her calmly. "Is the storm freaking you out?"

"A bit..." Taylor tried to sound more confident, but her voice was shaky. Cedric gave a slight nod before saying, "We're inside, safe from the rain. It'll be over soon." He gave her a quick smile before retreating back to his dorm. His words didn't exactly comfort her. She wasn't afraid of the rain. She wasn't afraid of the lightning or the thunder, either. It's the flashbacks, the ear-piercing roar of the sky, the sudden feeling that the world was going to end. And, not to be bitchy, but it wasn't going to end soon. It would be storming into the next day. Still, she tries to find solace in Cedric's wanting to help.

It's the early hours of the morning when Taylor decides she can go to her dorm to sleep. You wouldn't be able to tell that anyone lived there if it weren't for her stuffed animal that sits on her bed. Everything has a place, all of her clothes are neatly folded in her dresser, all of her makeup and skincare products are tucked in the drawers of her bathroom. Only her toothbrush sits on the sink. A spare hair tie sits on her end table. She had two bottles of shampoo and conditioner, they smelled like roses. Her bath soap smelled strongly of cherry blossoms. Aside from these few visible objects, the room was always clean. Nothing else belonging to her showed itself. The bed was always made, her stuffed bear sitting between the two pillows. She should feel silly still sleeping with it. She should hide it somewhere. But no one ever came into her dorm. The other bed sits empty. 

-

On her way to double potions, she felt anxious about Snape and his class. His obvious favoritism of the Slytherins, how much he dislikes Taylor. She wasn't terrible in his class, brewed potions correctly, answered questions when she knew the answer. But she definitely wasn't Snape's favorite. He would still find flaws in her potions and mistakes in her answers. Taylor walked through the cold dungeons and pushed open the door to Potions. She always arrived six minutes before her classes began. No one was usually there, not even her professors on some days. This was one of those times. The classroom was empty and quiet. She took her seat and pulled out her textbook, ready to flip to whichever chapter they were reading today. Something was off when she glanced around her workspace.

The vials on her desk were out of order and the cauldron wasn't in the right spot. She wondered who had done this, because they were always in the correct place. At the end of every class, Snape would wave his wand and all of the ingredients would sort themselves back to where they came from on the dusty shelves. The vials would take their places, four on each student's desk, in the same order each time. The round one first, on the left corner. Then a teardrop-shaped bottle, then a long, skinny vial, and then at the end of the line, a cube-shaped one. The cauldron sat on the right-hand side of the desks. Every other table was in order. It was only hers.

Her cauldron was in the center of her table. The different glass vials and bottles were in strange, uneven spots around the desk. Taylor felt a flicker of panic as she sorted everything out, trying to place the objects in the exact spot as the spell does. Once finished, she sat back and looked at her newly organized workspace. Just as she was about to smile, they moved and slid back into the wrong places. Fury and confusion crossed her face. She fixed them for a second time, and yet again, they unfixed themselves. 

A group of Slytherins walked into the class. Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy. Taylor didn't take note of their arrival, as she was too busy trying to sort out her defiant supplies. "Something wrong there, Tiny?" Draco's voice caught her off-guard, he never speaks to her. He was grinning and his friends were chuckling to themselves. Taylor didn't realize yet that he probably did this.

"My supplies won't go in the right place. Something is pulling them back to-" she stops talking for a moment, noticing what he called her, "my name is actually Taylor, sorry."

His friend's laughter got louder. "I don't give a damn about your name. You're just a little filthy Mudblood." Pansy waved her wand in Taylor's direction, and all of her papers flew up and scattered around her. "Looks like you're gonna have to clean that up." Draco was smiling a devilish smile. "And sort out your vials. It's unorganized."

Anger rose in Taylor. Everything was messy and some egotistical stranger just called her a Mudblood. It was the first time someone had called her that, she knew it would happen eventually, with all of the pure-bloods in the world who think they're better than everyone. But she wasn't prepared for how it felt. She always thought she'd be able to shrug it off, ignore it. She couldn't. She somehow felt guilty for being born a witch. She liked to think she was a good witch considering her Muggle parents. Look at Hermione Granger, she's brilliant. But Draco's comment made her feel less-than. Which, she figured was the point. 

 She collected her papers but didn't have enough time to sort them back into her notebooks. The rest of the students were filing in now, and Snape had gotten to class. He looks at Taylor's messy desk, even if he disliked her, he always commended her for her organization skills and cleanliness. He always mentioned the importance of having a clear space to brew potions. If anything unwanted gets mixed in it would be "disastrous." 

"Um, Professor Snape, my tools won't go in the correct place. They've been spelled." Her voice was quiet and flustered. "Well then Miss Bristol, I suggest you work very carefully. Today we will be brewing a Draught of Peace. Turn to page 276 of your books." Snape speaks with a hint of amusement in his voice. Taylor thought that at least she'll have something to relieve her anxiety after this class.

One thing that stayed on her mind was the fact that Draco, or one of his friends, had actually paid enough attention to know that she likes things to be neat and organized. Sure, they made a joke out of it. But someone noticed. Someone thinks the same way as she. And she couldn't help but feel a little better knowing she wasn't the only one.