Mildew Floweret

Arriving in the Great Hall for the feast, Lucille's heart pounded with a mix of anxiety and hope. She made her way to the Ravenclaw table, her steps faltering slightly as she felt the weight of numerous eyes upon her. The students' expressions ranged from indifferent to openly hostile, their whispers hissing through the air like venomous serpents.

She caught a glimpse of Pansy Parkinson's scornful face twisted in a sneer, her perfectly coiffed hair framing her mean-spirited eyes. Pansy leaned towards Draco Malfoy, her voice dripping with malice as she whispered something, casting sly glances in Lucille's direction. Draco's smirk widened, his gaze lingering on Lucille with condescending amusement.

Trying to shake off the discomfort, Lucille spotted her friend Michael Corner further down the table. Relief flooded her as she approached him, hoping for a friendly face amidst the sea of disdain. She sat next to him, her voice trembling slightly as she attempted to initiate a conversation. "Hey, Mike, how was Summer?"

Michael and his friends, Terry Booth and anthony Goldstein  exchanged uneasy glances. Without a word, they rose and moved a few seats away, their actions speaking volumes. Lucille's heart sank, the sting of rejection sharper than any spell.

The Great Hall, usually a place of warmth and camaraderie, felt cold and unwelcoming. Lucille's eyes darted around, searching for a familiar face. Her roommates arrived, and she felt a flicker of hope upon seeing Padma Patil. She rushed to her, enveloping her in a hug. But Padma's response was lukewarm, her arms barely moving to reciprocate.

"Padma, it's so good to see you," Lucille said, trying to mask her desperation with a smile.

Padma offered a strained smile. "I told the girls I would sit with them," she said, her voice tinged with regret but firm.

Lucille's heart shattered further. "Oh, okay," she murmured, trying to keep her composure. She watched as Padma joined the others, leaving her feeling more isolated than ever.

Desolate, Lucille found Luna Lovegood sitting at the very end of the table, her dreamy eyes lost in thought. Lucille slid into the seat next to her, grateful for the one person who didn't shun her.

Luna turned to her, offering a serene smile. "Hello, Lucille. How are you?"

"I'm... okay," Lucille lied, her voice barely above a whisper.

They sat together in silence, their isolation forming a fragile bond. Lucille's mind raced, replaying the countless efforts she had made to forge friendships. Remus Lupin's words echoed in her mind, urging her to make herself liked despite her financial status. She had tried so hard, but now, all those efforts seemed futile. The weight of the students' judgment pressed down on her, suffocating her hope.

As the feast continued, Lucille pushed her food around her plate, unable to summon an appetite. Her gaze drifted to the lively conversations and laughter that filled the Great Hall, a stark contrast to the loneliness she felt.

The realization that not even Michael Corner and Padma Patil wanted to be seen with her anymore was a crushing blow. She had always believed that hard work and kindness would earn her friends, but now, she felt like an outcast in the very place she had once felt at home.

Luna's soft humming broke the silence, a strange yet comforting melody. Lucille glanced at her, finding solace in Luna's unwavering acceptance.

As the feast continued, Lucille's gaze wandered towards the staff table, where the professors were engaged in animated conversation. Her eyes settled on a new figure among them, one who commanded attention with his startling appearance: Professor Mad-Eye Moody.

Mad-Eye Moody's visage was a patchwork of scars, each telling a tale of battles fought and dangers faced. His skin, weathered and rugged, bore the marks of countless duels and confrontations with dark forces. The most striking feature was his electric blue magical eye, whirling and darting independently of his natural one. It seemed to see everything and everyone, piercing through the very fabric of one's soul.

Lucille shuddered as his gaze swept across the hall, the magical eye momentarily fixing on her with an intensity that sent chills down her spine. His other eye, a normal one but equally piercing, followed suit, adding to the unnerving sensation. She couldn't help but feel as though he could see right through her, uncovering her deepest fears and insecurities.

His hair was a wild, grizzled mane, streaked with gray and untamed by any semblance of grooming. A chunk was missing from his nose, giving him a permanently crooked appearance. Lucille noticed his mouth set in a grim line, lips thin and pressed tightly together, as if he were constantly on guard, ready for the next threat to emerge.

The feast concluded with the usual fanfare, and Lucille trudged back to the Ravenclaw dormitory, her heart heavy with the evening's rejections. The warmth and laughter that had once defined her time at Hogwarts seemed like distant memories. She pushed open the door to her dormitory and found her roommates already inside. As she entered, a tense silence enveloped the room, cutting off their whispered conversations.

Lucille's instincts told her that they wouldn’t want to talk to her. She moved to her bed and began unpacking her things, the familiar motions offering a semblance of normalcy. But the silence was soon broken by Morag MacDougal, her voice sharp and accusatory.

"I don't feel safe in my own dorm anymore," Morag blurted out, her eyes fixed on Lucille with a mix of fear and anger.

Sue Li nodded vehemently. "Mum is worried sick that I have to sleep in the same room with a Werewolf."

Lucille's heart sank. She had feared this moment, but hearing it aloud was a different kind of pain. Trying to maintain her composure, she turned to them and asked, "Is the werewolf in the room with us?"

Lisa Turpin stepped forward, her expression cold and unyielding. "Drop the act, Lucille. We know why you were so absent all that time."

Lucille's mind flashed back to her secret outings, not to the Forbidden Forest but to throw pranks with the Weasley twins. They had been a welcome distraction, a way to forget her troubles, if only for a little while.

"If you have a problem with me, you can move to another dorm," Lucille retorted, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and sorrow.

"You're the one who should be expelled," Morag insisted, her face red with indignation.

Sue Li chimed in, her tone haughty. "Hogwarts is a school for Wizards, not Werewolves."

Lisa Turpin, the self-appointed spokesperson, looked at Lucille with disdain. "Let's go, girls. Susan Bones said we could stay in her dorm for as long as we need."

Sue Li packed her things, her movements brisk and efficient. "I'll be staying there until my mother, who has a high position in the Ministry of Magic, takes care of you, Lucille. You’ll be expelled, and your father will be thrown in Azkaban."

The words stung more than any curse. As they gathered their belongings and began to leave, Lucille's eyes locked onto Padma Patil. She was her last hope, the one friend who might stand by her.

"Padma, you too?" Lucille's voice was a fragile whisper, laden with betrayal.

Padma hesitated, her eyes avoiding Lucille's. "Sorry, Lucille," she murmured, before joining the others.

As the door closed behind them, Lucille was left alone in the cold, silent dormitory. The anger boiled within her, mixing with the hurt and betrayal. She had tried so hard to make friends, to fit in, despite the stigma attached to her and her family's financial struggles. But now, it seemed all those efforts had been in vain. She wasn't just an outcast; she was a pariah.

Lucille clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. She had faced discrimination before, but this was different. This was personal, cutting to the very core of her being. She was angry at them, yes, but she was also angry at herself for thinking she could ever truly belong.

Sitting on her bed, Lucille felt the tears well up. But she didn't let them fall. She couldn't afford to show weakness, not now. Not when she needed every ounce of strength to face the challenges ahead. She would find a way to prove them wrong. She had to.

Feeling the emptiness gnaw at her, Lucille clung to the only people who had shown her any semblance of acceptance: the Weasley twins. She shadowed Fred and George everywhere, desperate to fill the void left by her former friends. Whether it was concocting new pranks or testing out their latest inventions, Lucille was there, ready to do anything to stay in their good graces.

"Hey, Lucy, could you grab that flask of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder for us?" Fred asked one afternoon in their secret hideout.

Lucille hurried to comply, handing it over with a forced smile. "Here you go. What's the plan this time?"

George glanced at her with a mischievous grin. "We're thinking of testing it in the corridors tonight. Should be a right laugh."

Lucille nodded eagerly. "Sounds brilliant! I can help you set it up."

Fred and George exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them. "Actually, Lucy," George began, scratching the back of his neck, "Lee Jordan is helping us out with this one. We could use his expertise."

Lucille's heart sank, but she masked it with a cheerful expression. "Oh, right. Of course. I can... I can just watch, then."

The twins smiled, but there was a hint of awkwardness in their demeanor. "Yeah, sure. Just stick around and enjoy the show," Fred said, his tone a bit too casual.

As the days went by, Lucille's desperation grew. She found herself volunteering for even the most menial tasks, hoping to prove her worth. But gradually, she noticed a shift. Lee Jordan, with his easy charm and quick wit, was becoming the twins' new confidant.

One evening, Lucille followed them to an empty classroom where they were setting up their latest prank. "Hey, guys! What are we doing tonight?" she asked, trying to inject enthusiasm into her voice.

Lee Jordan looked up from his work, smiling. "We're rigging the chalkboards to spell out rude messages in Professor Snape's handwriting. Classic prank."

Fred chuckled. "Yeah, Lee came up with the idea. Brilliant, isn't it?"

Lucille forced a laugh. "Absolutely. Need any help?"

George shook his head. "Not this time, Lucille. We've got it covered."

Lucille's smile faltered. "Oh, okay. I'll just... I'll be over here if you need anything."

As she stood in the corner, watching them work seamlessly together, Lucille felt the sting of exclusion. The twins were still friendly, still kind, but it was clear that she was no longer an integral part of their inner circle.

During a break, Lucille approached Fred, her voice trembling slightly. "Fred, am I... am I doing something wrong? It feels like you don't need me around anymore."

Fred looked taken aback. "Lucille, it's not like that. You've been great, really. It's just... Lee, he's been our mate for years. We didn't mean to push you out."

George joined them, his expression serious. "We never wanted to make you feel unwelcome, Lucille. You're always welcome to hang out with us."

Lucille nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I get it. It's fine."

But it wasn't fine. Every laugh shared between the twins and Lee, every inside joke, was a reminder of what she had lost and what she could never quite regain. The emptiness she had tried so hard to fill with their company only seemed to grow, a gnawing void that threatened to consume her.

As she left the classroom that night, Lucille realized that no amount of clinging to the Weasley twins would replace the friendships she had lost. She needed to find her own path, her own way to belong, without losing herself in the process. But for now, she would keep following, hoping that one day, she might find her place once more.

The arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students for the Triwizard Tournament brought a buzz of excitement to Hogwarts. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the castle, the grounds were abuzz with the arrival of the foreign students.

The Beauxbatons carriage, elegant and shimmering in the twilight, glided gracefully toward the castle. Its opulent exterior was adorned with intricate designs and delicate patterns, reflecting the French school's reputation for beauty and grace. The carriage was drawn by a team of majestic winged horses, their silvery coats glistening as they pranced through the grounds. The Beauxbatons students disembarked with a flourish, their silken robes rustling softly. The girls, tall and poised, exuded an air of effortless elegance, while the boys carried themselves with a charming nonchalance.

Meanwhile, the Durmstrang students arrived in a grand, dark ship that had docked at the edge of the lake. The ship's formidable presence was both imposing and impressive, its stern decorated with fierce, dragon-like carvings. As the students disembarked, their dark, fur-lined cloaks swished with each step, and their intense, determined expressions reflected the rigorous training they had undergone. The atmosphere around them was charged with a palpable sense of discipline and strength.

As the evening drew in, the Hogwarts Great Hall was a scene of vibrant activity. The long tables, adorned with flickering candles and gleaming silverware, were filled with students eagerly awaiting the arrival of their guests. The hall was abuzz with anticipation and whispered conversations about the upcoming competition.

The Beauxbatons students, led by their elegant Headmistress Madame Olympe Maxime, made their way to the Ravenclaw table. Their arrival was met with a mixture of awe and curiosity from the Hogwarts students. The Beauxbatons girls, with their strikingly beautiful features and graceful movements, drew admiring glances from many. Their presence brought an exotic flair to the evening, contrasting sharply with the more rugged Durmstrang students who had seated themselves at the far end of the hall.

Lucille, still feeling the sting of recent rejections and the weight of her social struggles, watched with a mix of hope and trepidation as the Beauxbatons girls took their seats. To her surprise, a group of Beauxbatons students chose to sit near her, their presence creating a subtle ripple of excitement among the Ravenclaws.

The air around the table buzzed with chatter and laughter. Terry Boot and Michael Corner, who had been conversing with the Beauxbatons girls, noticed Lucille’s apprehensive demeanor. In hushed tones, they warned the newcomers about Lucille’s situation.

"Just so you know," Terry said quietly, his voice tinged with concern, "Lucille here is a werewolf. You might want to be cautious."

Michael nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you might want to keep your distance."

One of the Beauxbatons girls, a striking blonde with a serene demeanor, looked around with a bemused smile. Her blue eyes sparkled with curiosity as she scanned the table. "I don’t see any Werewolf around. Do you?" she said, her voice calm and clear, with a touch of amusement. She looked directly at Lucille and smiled warmly. "My name is Fleur. What's yours?"

Lucille felt a wave of gratitude and warmth wash over her. "I'm Lucy," she replied, her voice trembling slightly with emotion.

Fleur's smile widened. "Nice to meet you, Lucy. Certainly we’ll have a great time here at Hogwarts."

Her words, though softly spoken, carried an air of gentle defiance. Lucille felt a warmth spread through her, a rare sensation of being seen for more than just her condition. It was as if this girl's response was a subtle act of solidarity, a small but meaningful gesture that made Lucille feel a bit more accepted.

As the evening wore on, Lucille noticed a subtle shift in the dynamics of the room. Sue Li, Marietta Edgecombe, and other girls who had once shunned her now approached the Beauxbatons students, their demeanor a stark contrast to the coldness they had shown Lucille before. They seemed eager to align themselves with the newcomers, attempting to ingratiate themselves with the elegant French students.

Lucille's heart sank as she observed this, but the kindness of the Beauxbatons girl lingered in her thoughts, offering a flicker of hope amidst the cold reality of her situation. The presence of these new students, while not a panacea for her loneliness, provided a brief respite from the harsh judgments of her peers.

As the feast progressed, the tables were laden with an array of culinary delights from France and Bulgaria, a tribute to the visiting schools. Platters of bouillabaisse, coq au vin, and delicate pastries from Beauxbatons mingled with hearty Bulgarian stews, stuffed peppers, and baklava. The aroma was intoxicating, and Lucille eagerly filled her plate, her appetite sharpened by the day's emotional rollercoaster.

She dug in with enthusiasm, hardly aware of her surroundings as she enjoyed the rich flavors. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the Beauxbatons girls. They ate with an elegance that seemed almost otherworldly. Their movements were slow and deliberate, every gesture imbued with a natural grace. Forks and knives moved with precision, each bite savored, every sip of water a demonstration of poise.

Lucille paused mid-bite, her fork halfway to her mouth. A sinking feeling of embarrassment washed over her as she became acutely aware of her own eating habits. She had been shoveling food into her mouth quickly and carelessly, more like a ravenous boy than a young lady. Her cheeks flushed with heat as she realized how she must look to her new French acquaintances.

Trying to recover some semblance of dignity, Lucille put her fork down and took a deep breath. She watched Fleur closely, noting the delicate way she held her utensils, the way she chewed thoughtfully, and the soft, almost imperceptible way she dabbed her lips with her napkin. Determined to emulate this elegance, Lucille straightened her posture and picked up her fork and knife again, this time with care.

She speared a small piece of coq au vin, cutting it neatly before bringing it to her lips. She chewed slowly, taking the time to actually taste the rich, savory flavors. When she reached for her goblet of water, she did so with a deliberate grace, ensuring she didn't slosh the liquid around.

As she continued to eat, Lucille became more comfortable with the slower pace. The initial awkwardness began to fade, and she found herself enjoying the meal in a new way. The food tasted even better when she took her time, each bite a small luxury.

Fleur seemed to notice Lucille's efforts and gave her an approving smile. "You're really enjoying the food, aren't you?" she said, her voice light and friendly.

Lucille nodded, returning the smile. "Yes, it's wonderful. I've never had anything like it."

Fleur's eyes twinkled. "French cuisine is all about savoring the moment. It's nice to see someone appreciate it so much."

Lucille felt a warm glow of acceptance and continued her meal with renewed confidence. She no longer felt the need to rush, instead relishing the flavors and the company. The Beauxbatons girls' elegance was something to aspire to, not out of fear of judgment, but because it added a new layer of enjoyment to the experience.

As she ate, Lucille noticed that Sue Li, Marietta, and the other Ravenclaw girls were also trying to engage with the Beauxbatons students. They seemed almost desperate to make a good impression, their laughter and chatter a little too loud, their gestures exaggerated. In contrast, the Beauxbatons girls remained composed, their responses polite but reserved.

Lucille couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. For once, she wasn't the one trying too hard. She was simply being herself, albeit a more refined version. And in doing so, she felt more at ease than she had in a long time.

Professor Flitwick's voice echoed in the classroom, "Remember, students, let's ensure our visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang see us at our best. We don't want them thinking we're a bunch of wild hooligans!" He chuckled, though there was an underlying seriousness to his words. The class responded with a murmur of agreement, and the bell signaled the end of the lesson.

Professor Flitwick’s Charms class was always a highlight for many students, but today’s lesson carried an extra layer of significance. With the Triwizard Tournament in full swing, Flitwick began with a stern reminder. “Students, I expect you to conduct yourselves with the utmost decorum. We have guests from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, and it is imperative that we present ourselves as respectable and disciplined wizards and witches. We don't want them thinking we're a bunch of wild hooligans!" He chuckled, though there was an underlying seriousness to his words. The class responded with a murmur of agreement, and the bell signaled the end of the lesson.

The class murmured in agreement, the usual chatter subdued by the weight of the professor's words. Lucille, sitting towards the back, felt a pang of anxiety. She knew all too well how easily perceptions could change, and how fragile her own standing had become.

The lesson proceeded smoothly, with Flitwick demonstrating a series of intricate charms that left the students in awe. But the atmosphere took a darker turn later in the day when they had Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Mad-Eye Moody.

Moody's lesson was unlike any they had experienced before. He focused on the Unforgivable Curses, his grizzled voice explaining the horrifying implications of each one. The Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and finally, the killing curse, Avada Kedavra. Each demonstration left the students silent and somber, the weight of the curses’ power settling heavily in the room.

After class, Lucille hurried through the corridors, her mind still reeling from the intensity of Moody’s lesson. She turned a corner, hoping to escape the crowd and find a quiet place to collect her thoughts. However, she was stopped by a familiar sneer.

She didn't have to look to know who it was. Michael Corner, Terry Boot, and Randolph Burrow were whispering among themselves, glancing her way with malicious intent. She tried to ignore them, hoping to slip out of the room unnoticed, but her luck ran out as soon as she stepped into the corridor.

“Look who it is,” Michael Corner said, his voice dripping with disdain. He stood flanked by Terry Boot and Randolph Burrow, their expressions equally hostile.

Lucille tried to sidestep them, but Terry blocked her path. “Going somewhere, werewolf?” he taunted, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"Not so fast," Terry said, stepping in front of her. He had a smirk on his face, and his wand was already out. "We just want to have a chat."

Lucille sighed and stopped, clutching her books tighter to her chest. "What’s your problem?"

Randolph leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "We're just concerned, you know. With all these visitors, we wouldn't want them to think Hogwarts has gone to the dogs." He laughed at his own joke, and the other two joined in.

"Yeah," Michael added, circling her slowly, "we heard your dad's little secret is out. Must be tough, being related to a monster."

"He's not a monster," Lucille snapped, her patience wearing thin. "He's a better person than any of you will ever be."

Terry snickered. "Better person? Please. Everyone knows Werewolves are dangerous. How do we know you won't turn on us during the next full moon?"

Lucille's hands trembled with anger, but she held her ground. "I'm not a Werewolf, and neither is my father. Not really. He takes precautions. He’s safe."

"Precautions? Like locking himself up so he doesn’t eat anyone? That's comforting." Randolph stepped closer, his presence looming. “You think you can fool the Beauxbatons girls? Make them believe you’re normal?”

Lucille's heart pounded in her chest. “I’m just trying to get by, like everyone else,” she said, her voice small but defiant.

“Get by?” Terry snorted. “You should be locked up. You're a danger to everyone here.”

Michael leaned in, his face inches from hers. “Do you think you’ll last here much longer? Once everyone knows what you really are, even the teachers won’t be able to protect you.”

Lucille clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Randolph shoved her, causing her to stumble backward. “We know enough. And we’ll make sure everyone else knows too.”

Michael's eyes lit up with a cruel idea. He raised his wand, and before Lucille could react, he muttered a spell. "Furinculo!" A thin layer of coarse fur sprouted on Lucille’s arms. The boys howled with laughter.

Lucille glared at them, her eyes burning with tears she refused to shed. She took a deep breath, raised her own wand, and with a clear, steady voice said, "Finite Incantatem." The fur vanished, but the humiliation lingered.

"Nice trick," Terry mocked. "Maybe you should join the circus instead of sticking around here."

A group of passing students snickered, some looking at her with pity, others with amusement. The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, standing nearby, watched with curious eyes, whispering amongst themselves in their native languages.

"Why don't you three grow up?" A firm voice cut through the tension. Lucille turned to see Professor Flitwick approaching, his usually cheerful face stern. "This kind of behavior is unacceptable. Five points from Ravenclaw, each."

The boys' faces fell, but they didn’t dare argue. Flitwick turned to Lucille, his expression softening. "Are you all right, Miss Lupin?"

Lucille nodded, her throat tight. "I'm fine, Professor. Thank you."

As the boys slunk away, Flitwick gave Lucille a reassuring smile. "Remember, Miss Lupin, strength isn’t just about standing up to bullies. It's also about knowing your worth and not letting them define you."

Lucille managed a small smile. "Yes, Professor. I’ll remember."

As she walked away, she could feel the eyes on her, but this time she held her head high. The whispers and snickers still stung, but she wouldn't let them see her break. Not now, not ever.