Chapter Thirteen - Saoirse.

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I sit alone in an alcove on the third floor, glad to be alone and that everyone else is in class. I’m skipping the one I’m meant to be in; Defense Against the Dark Arts, because I know Peggy’ll be there. It’s very difficult to avoid the girl when you share the same friends and classes, but I manage well enough. Until now, it seems.

Because skipping down the corridor comes Zinia, an irritating thirteen-year-old who has become general slave to Peggy Glenn, my former friend. She’s taken to idolising the girl, even cutting her previously waist-length golden tresses into a stylish bob when Peggy had commented, on a whim, that she might look good with short hair. The way Peggy treats her makes me sick, paying her in confectionary to run errands for her, and the very sight of Zinia makes me even more so. Because I know that it means another spiteful note is coming. Peggy’s been sending them to me in droves these past couple of days, every time more hurtful - yet every time more inventive. I don’t know why I continue to open them, but I do. I’ve restrained from answering them, though - I’m not going to let myself stoop to her level.

Zinia bounces up to me but gains a wary expression as she silently creeps forward and places the door by me on the chair, me staring at her with acidic hostility all the while she is doing so. Then she jumps back, spins round and giggles, chewing away on gum Peggy probably paid her with to deliver this note.

I try to resist it, but in the end I have to reach for the note and open it. I can never leave a letter unopened.

It’s been scribbled on a piece of old parchment that’s half scrambled up and has a large tea stain in one corner - scrap paper, most likely, probably written in class whilst she kept a wary eye on the teacher. How nice it is to think that Peggy spends time meant for studying on writing spiteful notes to me. Musing scornfully, I lower my eyes to read my note, smile gradually disappearing as I do so.

And she’s done it. Made me boil with rage so much that in an instant, I snap, grabbing my quill and snatching up a piece of spare parchment and writing my own message. Not with spite - spite is not a natural emotion for me - but in red hot anger. And so begins the stream of messages that runs between myself and Peggy for a week:

  

 

The note affects me alarmingly. It’s not just anger that swells within me this time; reading the words causes tears to well up in my eyes and a stab of sadness to run through me. Overwhelmed, I throw down the note bitterly and reach up and wipe the sleeve of my blouse across my face in an attempt to remove the tears that threaten to escape from my eyes.

‘’Well, well, well, what have we here? Irish Gal finally showing some emotion?’’ I remove my sleeve to see James Potter standing there smirking, as if gleeful at my sadness. The sight of him, however, drives away my sadness a little for it to be replaced by fury.

‘’Bugger off, you bastard.’’ I say in a low voice, swearing at him in an attempt to stop the temper I am harbouring being unleashed.

‘’You can’t drive me away with your swearing, Irish gal. I need to continue with my investigation into why you have the emotional range of a marble statue.’’ Before I can stop him, he’s sat down next to me, grabbing the note from where I’d thrown it down.

‘’Give that back!’’ I snarl, lunging at him in an attempt to retrieve the note, but he bends back nimbly and stops me from getting it back before he’s done. I withdraw as he continues to read, not having enough energy to fight him physically and realising that, to be honest, I don’t care if he reads it. Besides, I can just leave. Like I always do.

‘’Wait!’’ James Potter calls as I’m heading for the door, knowing I have to get to somewhere I can be on my own and cry without being called at, without feeling ashamed. I continue to walk, ignoring him. I’m so sick of James Potter, who thinks he knows me and has me sorted, who thinks he can invade my personal privacy, who thinks he has the right to know my secrets.

''Saoirse!'' He uses my first name, suprising me, but I keep going. I hear him following me, however, and, in a fit of panic, knowing only that I have to get away, I start to run. Clearing the portrait hole as several first-years enter, I race down the stairs towards the entrance hall and once I’ve reached the bottom of the staircase, head for the back door that leads out of the grounds. I know exactly where I need to go. James Potter won’t find me there, and he certainly won’t catch me. I’ve had too much practice running on the streets of Dublin, away from thieves and gangs there. That’s where I get my fighting skills from as well. Let’s just say I’ve punched plenty of people in the head before - James Potter and Margaret Glenn weren’t the first to receive a fist in the face from me.

I can’t hear him as I race into the forbidden forest, unseen by anyone and not daunted by the path I take through the woodland. However, I can barely hear anything at the moment due to the wind rushing past me as I continue to sprint, panting as I go, head whirling in the cold October air.

I keep going, resting at intervals and falling to a steady jog, for twenty minutes, knowing my way through the trees and gradually observing the change in environment. Because, when I finally stop, I’m not in the forbidden forest anymore. Picking my way through undergrowth, I finally find the faint path that leads me to my paradise; a stream that eventually leads to the black lake but gathers in a pool in a clearing, surrounded by green grass and next to a small pond that must have once been part of the stream, where water lilies grow and now flower. It’s not the season for the pretty aquatic plants to flower, but I was inspecting the plants the other day and suddenly they started to form a bud and these then developed into blossoms at a remarkable speed. I suppose it’s due to my magic and the fact I was incredibly emotional the other day when I crept away to my secret retreat. In fact, a large amount of flowers have opened blossoms since I’ve been here, blackthorns disturbed by my presence and producing a cloud of white blossom when they should be loosing their leaves, buttercups and daisies weaving a patchwork of yellow and white in the green grass, scarlet pimpernels peeping from the bushes and adding scarlet to the colours of my glade. I muse poetically that my tears watered the ground for these blooms to appear, but thinking of the attacks of anguish I have experienced here brings on another one, especially when I turn to the matter of James Potter, who has become a real danger to me. Looking around myself, alone in the silent dell, isolated from everyone, I realise I will always be like this. Always alone. I can’t trust anyone else, I can’t let anyone else get close to me because of my past. Because I refuse to accept what has happened to me through the years. Because it’s too painful to look back. Because I’m scared of people judging me because of what I have done in my past.

My feelings are accentuated as Peggy’s note comes back to me and I lose it then. I won’t cry in front of anyone, but nothing stops salty tears from pouring down my face as I enter the icy water of the stream and end up collapsing so I sit in the shallow channel as my skirts become evermore waterlogged. I miss Ireland. I miss the people there. I miss being able to run free in the hills, to live independently and bunk from place to place. No one ever asked questions, they just invited me in as I boarded in hostels and pubs, no money, just my wits and magic. Why did I have to come to Hogwarts? Why did I become so desperate to come here?

Suddenly, in this rush of feelings, I stand up in the water, silver drops falling from my heavy skirt as my eyes follow the faint path I know leads to a nearby Muggle village. Do I have the guts to do it? To run? To attempt to return to Ireland and be free once more? Taking careful steps, I approach the bank on the other side, ignoring the fact I’m soaking up to my knees and lack belongings or supplies of any sort, just clutching my wand with white hands. My face is still wet from tears, my blouse torn due to an encounter with a vicious bramble bush, my skirt is soaking and my hair loose and wild, but I don’t feel anything except for the urging within me, the urge to run. And I give in. Gathering up my skirts, I move to clear the bank and run, knee-length leather boots thudding on the ground as I start to run. However, I only make two steps before a voice pulls me to a sharp stop, a voice that makes fear stab within me like a shot.

‘’You can’t run, Irish Gal.’’ I spin round to see James Potter on the other side of the bank. How did he find me? How long has he been here? The rushing of the water around me could have blocked out the sound of him approaching. He could have seen everything. My head begins to whirl and the only thing that stops me running is his face. Instead of wearing his usual arrogant look, James Potter’s eyes are serious and his face solemn.

‘’I...I can.’’ I recover after a pause, though my words are choked and he barely hears them as I turn to look at the path I was about to follow. I swallow and look back at him, my voice firmer the second time I speak. ‘’You can’t stop me.’’

‘’No.’’ He takes a step towards me from the other side of the bank. ‘’But you can. You know you can’t do it now. You will stop yourself.’’

I’m confused by his understanding, but for once forget to guard my speech. ‘’I can.’’ I speak my wild thoughts aloud. ‘’I’ve done it before. I’ve done it a million times. There’s nothing different about it this time.’’

I see his eyes light up with interest at the mention of my past and expect him to follow it and return to his usual jeering state. But instead he continues to speak calmly, apparently bent on convincing me against running away. Because somehow he knew what I’m planning on doing. I don’t get this boy - one minute he’s an arrogant, sneering twat, the next minute he’s genuinely trying to help me. I can’t deal with it.

‘’There is something different about this time. You have friends.’’ He looks at me solemnly. ‘’Saoirse, you have people who care about you if you go.’’

‘’Friends?’’ I retort bitterly, taking a step towards him as we speak across the stream. ‘’I don’t have friends, James Potter. I have never had friends. SAnd d’you know why? Because you can’t rely on anyone. No matter what they say to start with, no matter what they do to prove their friendship, they will betray me.’’

I realise I slipped up on the last word and bow my head down, turning around and biting my lip. I shouldn’t be speaking to this boy, or I’m going to say something stupid.

‘’My god, Saoirse.’’ I flinch as he uses my first name again. ‘’What kind of friends have you had?’’

I turn on him angrily. ‘’What?’’

He steps into the water, advancing, as I take a step back. He stops and cocks his head to survey me. ‘’Who betrayed you? Who gave you such a bad view on the human race.’’

Instead of taking a step back, this time, I suddenly advance and reach him, grabbing the letter in his hand and holding it forward with fury. ‘’Everyone! Everyone I have ever trusted! Take this as an example.’’ I thrust the letter in his face. ‘’Peggy turned on me in a flash! How long d’you think it’ll be before Lena, Sisa, Claire and Kate do the same?’’

He takes the letter off me gently, staring into my eyes with intrigue. ‘’Saoirse, Peggy only turned on you because you’ve told her that her first boyfriend ever, a guy she really loves, does not love her and will break her heart. I don’t know what it’s like in Ireland, but you can’t go saying stuff like that.’’

I look at him savagely. ‘’’You know what Sirius’s is going to do, don’t pretend that h loves her. He’s going to crush her.’’

James sighs and looks down, not needing to say a word to confirm my accusation. There’s a pause, then he speaks again. ‘’Look, whether it’s true or not, you can’t go speaking like that just because you want to take your anger out on someone else.’’

I look at him in disbelief and fury. ‘’What? You think I told Peggy those things because I wanted to take my anger out on someone? I am trying to protect her! She can’t trust Sirius Black and but does, yet he will crush her like a bug. I’ve had that all my life, I’ve trusted people and they’ve betrayed me, I’ve loved people and they have broken my spirit again and again! I tried to prise her away from Sirius Black because I don’t want the same to happen to her!’’

There’s silence as I finish and James Potter simply stares at me. I glare at him venomously and march past, clearing the bank in my wet clothes and grabbing my coat from where it fell to the ground when I arrived. I hear him clamber out of the water as I do so and turn on him in a flash, wand pointed at him threateningly.

‘’Stay away from me, James Potter.’’ Something hurts within me as I speak those words, something physical that stabs me with a sharp pain in my chest, but I ignore it.

He backs away slightly and looks at me in disbelief. ‘’You’re mad, Saoirse Evans. Stark-raving mad. I just can’t figure you out.’’

I look at him, eyes ablaze with energy. ‘’Trust me, I feel the same way about you.’’

He raises his eyebrow as I lower my wand and turn to head back towards the castle.

‘’You’re not running, then.’’ His words halt me again and I exhale, sighing as I turn.

‘’No.’’ I say quietly. ‘’Not now. But one day you’ll wake up and I’ll be gone. Mark my words.’’

‘’Why do you run, Irish Gal? Why do you never stick around to face anything? What are you scared of?’’ He begins to play detective again, though his questions are simply bathed in curiosity and there’s no sneer to them.

I look at him bitterly. ‘’Because I’m not brave, like you. I don't’ belong in Gryffindor. I run because I’m scared, I run because I can’t face things.’’ I turn to go, my emotion spent. ‘’Goodbye, Potter. If you ever speak anything of what you saw or heard here, I will personally throttle you.’’

‘’Wait! Saoirse!’’ He dashes up before I can do anything and jumps in front of me, eyes suddenly grave as he stares down into mine. ‘’Look, I won’t say anything about what happened in here, I promise - but you need to swear you won’t come back here.’’

‘’What?’’ I look at him in confusion. ‘’Why?’’

‘’This place - it’s out of the grounds. You’re not safe here.’’ He says earnestly. ‘’You mustn’t come here. It’s dangerous.’’

I scoff. ‘’I don’t need the protection of magic, besides, there’s nothing out there that’ll harm me. I’m not scared by being on my own in the wild.’’

‘’This may be news to you, but it isn’t safe outside the grounds for Hogwarts students anymore.’’ He says grimly. ‘’There are dark forces stirring. If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named ever got hold of a Hogwarts student, well…’’ He looks at me with grave eyes as I’m taken aback by his statement. ‘’Look, just stay with your friends in the grounds. It’s not safe being out here on your own.’’

‘’And why would you care about my safety?’’ I demand, tossing my hair as I turn to go. ‘’I’ll go where I like, James Potter. Good day.’’ And with that, I march off into the undergrowth - but not before I hear him sigh and feel his eyes on my back as I go. I’m so confused by the boy. It’s like there’s a completely different person trying to come through and sometimes he wins and sometimes he’s disguised by the cocky, jeering bully who takes his place. For some reason, I feel I need to know more about James Potter. I need to find out why his alter ego is so different from his normal persona. I need to know why he hounds me when I am no one in particular to him.

I need to know why I actually listen to him.