I find her and follow her and push her down Slughorn’s Stairs. She’s an attention whore. And now I’ve pushed her down the stairs, and she can have the entire school ooh and ah, and she can bask in all the eyes on her. I think she wants someone who wants her for her. I’m looking down at her, and I am waiting for her to call out for the weasel or Potter, but she doesn’t. She glances at me, fumbles for her things and tries to stuff them into her bag. They fall out again. The bag has ripped at the seam. For some reason, Crabbe and Goyle are here now, and I have to laugh. She’s flustered; she keeps trying to put her books in the bag. It’s harsh, the laughter. It hurtles down the stairs and crashes into the wall behind her. "Repente." The spell keeps every guffaw, every shriek. It echoes until hundreds of mocking voices fill the staircase.