The time between crawling under the covers and drifting off to sleep is the time I hate the most. This is when there’s nothing distracting you from thinking about all the awful things that happened to you during the day. It actually kind of reminds me of an old Muggle toy I used to play with when I was little-- a yo-yo. The string spirals downward, tugged along by gravity, with you fighting it all the way. It’s dragging you down to all those horrible memories. And then, snap, you’re racing back upward gleefully. You can’t wait to get there; your quivering with anticipation. But less than a second later; you’re spinning back down toward the hateful thoughts you try so hard to push out of your mind.



It makes sense to me, anyway. When I lay alone in bed, it’s just me and the darkness, and the quiet and steady breathing of the other girls. I try and concentrate on other things. I think about the essay that still needs writing for Flitwick. I think about the latest letter from Mum and Dad. I think about my birthday, which is in a few weeks. But those thoughts only last for just a few minutes. I always seem to drift back, unconsciously, to the taunts, the jeers… and the Slytherins.



It replays over and over in my head. Insult. Jeer. Insult. Taunt. They take turns, you see. They organize themselves, preparing for their favourite pastime of teasing Sara Hewitt. They spot me, and before I can run they surround me. They fire them at me, one by one, and I can’t escape. I’ll never escape, because I’ll always be Sara Hewitt to them, the Mudblood.

---

I do my best to ignore the snickers that the Slytherins poorly attempt to hide behind their hands as I pack up to leave Defence Against the Dark Arts. I gather up all my books and quills and stuff them into my bag, until I notice rather large writing that certainly was not there before scrawled onto my copy of Jinx the Jinxer and other Counter Spells by Biswack Bubbs.



“I’m stupid!!!” it reads. Tears prick at my eyes, and the Slytherins, noticing that I’ve read their fine handiwork, snicker even louder. I can feel myself trembling as my body swells with emotion. Anger. Hate. Frustration. Hurt. What did I do? Did I disobey some secret rule? Did I accidentally insult one of them?



Tears flowing now, I clumsily wave my wand across the words and attempt to erase them. As a result, the book shoots out a few emerald sparks, but that’s all I get. The Slytherins laugh openly. I do the only thing I can do. I bolt.

---

I know it’s surprising for a Ravenclaw, but it took me forever to figure out why they teased me so.



I’m a Mudblood.



I may be a Ravenclaw, but that doesn’t make me any better at magic. I avoiding talking and eye contact at all cost. I bury my nose in a book all the time, day and night. In short, I’m different. I used to consider myself a geek actually. A freak, not worthy of attending Hogwarts. But now I’ve learned that I’m just different, but that took me a long time to figure out.



It all started with Luna. You could say that she helped me figure things out.

---

“Are you okay?” asks a dreamy voice.



I quickly wipe the tears off my face and answer yes.



“Then why are you crying?”



“Look, I just want to be left alone, okay,” I say.



“You look like you need help.”



I’m wondering who the heck this girl is and why won’t she just go away.



“Go away. Please?!”



I’m begging now.



“I get teased too. They tease me because they don’t agree with what I say. I know it’s silly and everyone disagrees and I shouldn’t pay attention to them, but it still hurts. No matter what anyone says to comfort me, it still hurts.”



Now she had my attention. I nod my head for her to go on.



At first Luna pauses; she seems undecided. “You’re the first I’ve told about this. They call me Loony Lovegood, and they don’t think I feel like others do, but that’s not true.”



I’m speechless after this last statement, and meanwhile Luna continues bravely.



“It will always hurt, and you’ll never forget it. All you can do is move past it. But you’re not alone. Everyone’s been teased. And guess what? Chances are the reasons that they tease you are because they were teased themselves. They see it as defending themselves.”



As if this speech didn’t surprise me enough, then she takes a string of garlic from off her neck, (yes, can you believe it? She has garlic around her neck!) and tells me it’ll ward off vampires, and be careful of Wrackspurts because she’s seen some floating around lately.

---

A month later, she’s comforting me after the latest Slytherin attack. A week after that, I’m comforting her after someone stole her No More Nuisance Nuffbaum Necklace (just slip it around your neck and it’ll ward off all those pesky little nuffbaums!). It goes on till the end of the year. It goes on all through the summer too. We write letters. I feel better. It doesn’t hurt so much anymore. But that doesn’t mean I still don’t wonder why they do it.



I wonder what motivates people to hurt others like that. Is it fun? Is it entertaining? Is it fulfilling? Then again, it’s not like I’ve been so innocent. I’m not proud of it, but I’ve lashed out too. I’ve poked fun right back at them. It’s not like I hurt them back (because who cares what a Mudblood says?), but I did it anyway. I’ve actually started an attack once myself, only to have it end horribly (and with me not feeling so fantastic, like I thought I would).



Anyway, now I just figure that it’s hard enough to be a teenager. Just trying to scrape by with a couple of OWLs, finding some good friends, and staying out of trouble are hard enough as it is. Why complicate things with bullying?



Now I try to do what Luna did for me. I walk up to people who’ve been teased. I comfort those who’ve been bullied. I talk to those in need of a friend. I help them. You could say I bring them back to themselves, the way they used to be before the jeers. Make them comfortable with who they are. I work hard for that. But unfortunately, this doesn’t mean I don’t remember what happened to me. There are some things you can’t ever forget.