A Treacherous Existence at Hogwarts

Chapter 2: A Swift Reckoning

Thea turned to see a girl with golden hair standing straight and still in the doorway, watching her.

The sight of that blonde hair stirred a memory: this was Jennifer, her roommate—a girl who, from the original Thea’s recollections, had always been well-behavered and kind.

Thea offered her a smile. “Jennifer, I’d like to go outside.”

“Let’s play on the lawn!” Jennifer suggested at once.

“Alright.” Being cooped up indoors felt suffocating; now that she had an excuse to leave, Thea seized it.

As they made their way downstairs, Thea noticed it wasn’t just the infirmary that was clean—every corner of the orphanage was tidy and well-kept. To Thea’s eyes, the conditions here were decent. The overall cleanliness suggested a matron who paid attention to details.

When they reached the lawn, however, they found all the swings already occupied. Sensing Thea’s disappointment, Jennifer said gently, “Why don’t we sit by the sandpit and sunbathe? The sunlight feels lovely today.”

Not wanting to refuse her kindness, Thea agreed readily. They carried two backed chairs outside and settled down to enjoy the sun.

Curled comfortably in her seat, Thea observed the children playing nearby.

The orphans here never went hungry or cold, but that was the extent of it. Their clothes and food likely came from government funds and donations by kind-hearted citizens or charitable foundations. The staff did their best, but beyond providing the basics, they couldn’t offer much more.

Even so, the children’s clothes—though outdated in style—were clean and well-maintained.

The children chased each other across the grounds, laughing and shouting, their joy infectious. Thea felt her mood lift. The warm sunlight draped over her like a gentle blanket, and with her illness not fully gone, she began to drift into drowsiness.

But before she could close her eyes, an older boy stormed up to her and yelled, “Look everyone! The little freak and her friend are here!”

The harmony on the lawn shattered. Nearly every child turned to stare at Thea and the boy. It was clear he was bullying her, yet no one stepped in to stop him—they all chose to watch, cold and silent.

Thea’s drowsiness vanished. She wanted to retort, but a glance at the surrounding children cooled her anger, replacing it with cold understanding.

When Thea didn’t react, the boy’s mockery turned to rage. He raised his arm high, ready to strike the “little freak” who dared ignore him.

But before he could swing, Jennifer rushed out from behind Thea. “Put your hand down, Andrew! Or I’ll tell Wintha! I’ll say you’re bullying Thea again, and she’ll put you in detention!” she cried angrily.

Andrew flinched at the threat, but then his face flushed with humiliation. “So what? Mrs. Green isn’t here—Wintha can’t give me detention!” He spat at Thea. “Freak!”

Thea stepped forward, pulling Jennifer aside. As Andrew tried to slap her, Thea struck first—a sharp punch to his left cheek. The sudden force made Andrew yelp in pain and stumble to the ground. Before he could recover, she slapped him hard across the face.

The reversal stunned everyone into silence. Then Andrew’s piercing scream broke the quiet.

Thea brushed off her hands as if wiping away dirt. “If you call me ‘little freak’ again,” she said coldly, “I’ll beat you every time I see you.”

But Andrew was still howling. “Just you wait! Anna will put you in detention! I’ll make sure you starve in the dark room!”

Seeing he still hadn’t learned his lesson, Thea raised her hand again—but a sharp voice stopped her.

She looked up to see Wintha hurrying over, followed by a portly man with a ruddy, drinker’s nose. It was Jem, the orphanage guard. He must have alerted Wintha.

Wintha was nearly running—something Thea had never seen before. Usually, she moved with the calm steadiness of the nuns the children had heard about, no matter the situation. Today, though, she was clearly shaken.

Before Thea could think further, Wintha barked at the children, “What are you all standing around for? Return to your rooms at once!”

Startled into action, the children scrambled toward the stairs. Within moments, only Thea, Jennifer, Andrew, and the adults remained on the lawn.

Wintha didn’t ask for explanations immediately. Instead, she helped Andrew up, frowning as she examined his swelling cheek. “It’s alright, Andrew—just a bit swollen. Some ointment will fix it.”

Andrew looked ready to complain, but one glance from Wintha silenced him. Once he quieted down, she called two older children to help him to the infirmary.

Only when Andrew was gone did Wintha speak. “Thea, Jennifer—you’re both good girls. Why were you fighting?”

“I’m sorry, Wintha,” Thea said, meeting her gaze earnestly. “I acted impulsively. Starting tomorrow, I’ll copy out articles to make up for my mistake. I promise it won’t happen again. Please forgive me?”

Wintha had expected Thea to shift all the blame onto Andrew—to claim she was only defending herself. Children that age always tried to avoid responsibility; she was used to it.

But Thea had admitted her fault outright, even proposing her own punishment. Wintha had thought Thea was just clever, but now she saw maturity in her—enough to soften Wintha’s sternness.

Though surprised, Wintha kept her expression neutral, though her tone gentled.

Encouraged, Jennifer spoke up timidly, “Wintha, it was my fault too. If I hadn’t brought Thea downstairs, Andrew wouldn’t have bothered her.”

Her voice was faint and tearful. The sight of her crying made Wintha’s heart lean even more in their favor.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Wintha said gently. “But admitting fault is what matters. Thea, I’m glad you owned up to yours. You’ll copy five articles, starting tomorrow—with Jennifer supervising. For one week.”

“Yes!” the two girls cheered instantly, hugging Wintha tightly. It was only when Jem reminded her there were still patients in the infirmary that Wintha reluctantly let them go and hurried inside.

Once Wintha was out of sight, the two girls walked back toward their dormitory—though a subtle distance had grown between them, none of the earlier closeness remaining.