Bombarda

Harry stumbled slightly by the corridor wall, people snickering their insults aloud. They were never afraid to gang up on him; he was only a boy with murdered parents but with exceptional grades he'd worked hard to get. Hard work to prove them wrong about muggle raised people-- no matter how horrible said muggles were. And that was a fact; muggles despised wizards and Harry had seen it through Aunt Petunia's shrill eyes and her sharp tongue that was never afraid to throw shades at his witch mother. 

"Watch out, Harry. You don't want to tangle into a position you don't like!" One of the seventh year Ravenclaw boys, Michael Corner, cat-called, his friends smirking behind him. Humiliation colored Harry's cheeks but he kept moving, just diagonally away from the seventh year boys. 

Harry knew he wasn't bad looking but if this was what actually good looking people had to go through, he'd have jumped into a hole and died long ago. Harassment was one thing that ticked Harry and the whole school knew of it for some reason. It must have been Pansy Parkinson, the "Gossip Bitch Queen." 

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't realize when he crashed into a black-haired, pretty Asian girl. Corner laughed louder, a hint of jealousy echoing in the forced laughs. 

"Oh I'm so sorry!" The girl said, bending down to pick up Harry's Ancient Runes books. "I should have realized you were distracted and moved out of the way." 

She got up and helped Harry put it back into his bag. "I should have payed more attention." Harry said quietly, causing the girl to have to lean in slightly. "It's my fault. I'm sorry." He slung his backpack over his shoulder awkwardly, the girl sending annoyed looks to her friends who were muttering things like 'clutz' and 'idiot.' 

"Ignore them." The girl said firmly, loud enough for her friends to hear. "They're not like this in on daily, I promise you. My names Cho Chang, by the way." 

"Uhm.. hi, Ms. Chang. My names Harry Potter." She smiled slightly at the use of formal name basis. 

"No need for that." She laughed. "We're barely an year apart. You can call me Cho, Harry." 

"A-alright.. Cho." Cho smiled and pulled Harry's hand along. "It's your break, right?" Harry nodded. "Great! You can walk with me, alone." She stressed the last word with a big smile as her friends made their way to her. 

She quickly walked out of the corridor, pulling Harry aside to an empty classroom. She respectfully pulled out a seat and let Harry sit down. 

"I saw how those boys treated you." Cho said sadly, her voice holding back a hint of anger. "You would have thought that they would leave a sixth year alone." She sighed and sat down on a desk, pressing out all the wrinkles from her knee length, navy skirt.

"I'm used to it." Harry said, holding back a shrug. Cho gave him a sympathetic look. He realized what that statement might have looked to an outsider-- a strangled way of saying he needed help. Harry kind of did need it but he really didn't need it. He was fine on his own. 

Cho hesitated as if she was looking for a way to say something but seemed to give up on it. She stretched out her hand and Harry took it gratefully as she led him out of the abandoned room. 

"I'll take you to your class. Potions, is it?" Harry just nodded. He wasn't one for words. "Your class is close to mine-- animal healing. It's an AP, so they don't really mind lateness." Cho tugged his arm benevolently when Harry started to slow down. 

"Come on. They're not going to be here." Harry didn't bother to tell her he couldn't give a single care in the world if they were there. It would be humiliating, yes, but Harry was known to be the one everyone hated but loved to bother. Pansy especially hated him for the all the attention he 'hog up.' He'd flipped her off when she'd said that. 

Harry quickly pushed himself into the dead silent room, glad that there was no teachers in the class. Snape had been MIA since last week so they'd be expecting another teacher. 

Harry took a quiet seat in the back and stared at his desk, not wanting to look up. If he stood in the shadows than maybe they'd not bother him.

The chatter stopped as soon as a stern looking woman came through the door. She had a single, black braid running down her back, her eyes pyscothically sharp for her young age.  

She banged her hand down on the desk, making Harry jerk slightly. She smirked at his reaction. "Hello, everyone." She announced, "My name is Draza Rosier, and you will call me ma'am unless you love the feeling of detention for a week looming over your head." 

She looked around expectantly. Nobody said a word. She turned around and pointed her wand at the board. The Hieroglyphic alphabet appeared on the board. 

"The magical ancient Egyptians held a lot of power in their hands with the understanding of this alphabet." She said, a manic smile spreading across her face. "This alphabet makes some of the darkest spells.." She spun around, a smirk on her face. "But that is a conversation for another time." 

She wiped out a golden liquid from her robe pocket. "This is the unforgivable spell, Imperious, dissolved into liquid. The person who shall drink the contents of this bottle will follow your orders for more than the actual wand spell unless it is cast using Ancient power." 

One of the people in the front, Ron Weasley, raised his hand high. "That's an illegal spell, liquidated or not!" 

The veins on Rosier's forehead seemed to tick slightly. "Yes, Weasley. Which is why dunderheads like you need to know the dangers of this before you get killed by the outer world reality." She said cruelly. "You will thank me later." 

She walked over the heiroglyphics and vanished it. "You will be practicing how to force a spell into a liquefied state. We will start with stupefy for safety measures."

The class spent the rest of the time period trying to trap stupefy into the bottle with no prevail. Hermione Granger moaned that she had gotten close but Rosier declared Harry's was better, even though only a seventh of the contents looked like liquid. 

Harry rushed out of potions class with seventy galleons buried deep in his pockets, Weasley throwing jealous looks his way. Gryffindor had gotten a hundred points and Rosier had promised to tell Dumbledore about Harry's capabilities and the rest of Gryffindor that Harry was the only reason they would be getting the house cup next week. 

He slowed down around the deserted hall and pulled himself down, resting his head into his knees. The magic had really drained him and his sight was spinning; atleast he didn't need to wear those damned glasses anymore. And if he really wanted to be honest... the jealous looks had gotten to him, too. He hated being watched, especially with hatred.

In Harry's drunk-like state, his eyes failed to comprehended the glowing red eyes watching him from the end of the hall.