Half-Blood

Fifty years after Harry Potter destroyed Lord Voldemort, the biggest threat of the wizarding world, there was finally peace. Erela Harris, an awkward witch, starts her life off in Hogwarts to try and discover who she really is, all while struggling to fight her unknown destiny. Only when the time comes will she face the choice between what is right and what is easy.

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9. Future

    Erela was tapping the end of the pencil on her textbook anxiously during Charms as she stared blankly at her notebook. Michael nudged her foot, motioning her to stop, but Erela's mind wasn't exactly there. It didn't bother her . . . it didn't . . . it shouldn't . . . 

    Goddammit! It shouldn't!

    Erela let out a sigh before the Charms professor dismissed them for the night. She quietly packed her things while Michael stared at her quizzically. "You're out of it tonight."

    "Hm?" Erela back looked at Michael. "Oh . . . yeah . . . I'm just thinking about the O.W.L. we should study for," she lied and pinched the bridge of her nose.

    Michael furrowed his brows and kept his gaze on her. "No, really. What is it?"

    "It's nothing," she shook her head and hopped off her seat.

    "You get very jittery when something is wrong . . ." Michael pointed out.

    Dammit . . . why did he always have to notice useless small things like that? "Seriously, I'm just thinking about the O.W.L. I just want to get it over with . . ." she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

    "You also do that more than usual when you're in an irritated mood," he lightly touched her hand that was pinching her nose.

    Erela immediately dropped it. "Stop that."

    "What?"

    "Noticing small things like that," she rolled her eyes.

    "I've been your best friend since our first year," he reminded her. "Of course I notice small things like that."

    "That's both sweet and creepy at the same time," she nudged him.

    "What can I say?" he smiled and draped his arm over her shoulder as they exited the classroom. "I care for my friends." Erela rolled her eyes at him. "Now what's wrong?"

    Erela groaned at him. "It's nothing special. Just . . . a little emotional is all, I guess."

    "You can tell me," he gently shook her.

    Erela smirked at him and shook her head. "No. It's stupid." He kept insisting. "Fine fine, get off my back already."

    "I'm not on your back," he laughed before jumping on her back. "NOW I'm on your back."

    "I meant figuratively, not literally," she growled. "You're heavy, you tall bastard. Are you REALLY in Slytherin?"

    "That's what the sorting hat said," he shrugged and jumped off her back. "So?"

    "It's . . . this guy—"

    "You have a crush on someone?" he interrupted. 

    "I don't know . . ." Erela sighed. "I don't think so. He and I hardly ever talk. I think the longest conversation we had is five minutes since year one."

    "And not talking to him often bothers you?"

    "No . . . not really," she shrugged. "Him snogging another girl does," she mumbled and crossed her arms over her chest. Michael busted out laughing, making Erela blush timidly and look down at her feet as they walked down the corridor. "Don't laugh at me—"

    "You make it too bloody easy," he laughed. "If you're bothered by that, I'm sorry to say, but you have a crush on him."

    "I don't know," she sighed. "I don't know where the bloody hell it came from and it makes me uncomfortable."

    "That's called an emotion, Ms. Harris."

    "Naff off, you wanker," Erela shoved him away. The Hughes boy came back and hugged her tightly and nuzzled his head to her neck. Erela pinched his cheek and kept telling him, "Get off."

    "Robot wench."

    "Clingy dog."

    "I'll see you tomorrow?" Michael asked and Erela nodded in response. "Alright. See you, love?" he smirked and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before he booked it.

    "MICHAEL!!!" Erela growled and pulled her wand out. "I keep telling you to stop doing that!" she called to him and threw a spell his way, but he rounded around the corner and the conjuration hit the wall instead.

    The Hufflepuff girl huffed before she ventured toward the library. She still had some time to work before curfew, might as well do some homework. As she was on her way there, she saw the Eitheridge boy and Landon walk across the field toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest from a window. She watched them for a little while before shaking it off and went to the library again.

    The reason why Erela felt the need to constantly work hard in school was because she felt like she was being pressured to become great in the eyes of the Ministry. With her father being an Auror, it was enough to stress her out. The fact she had muggle blood flow through her veins and wanted to try and prove that half-bloods were as strong as purebloods. That was her goal since she was fourteen.

    There was also the fact that she wanted to run away from the possibility of her falling into the Dark Arts . . .

    Erela's wand . . . her power . . . to hurt people . . . It was terrifying that evil could be in her future . . .

    She didn't want it . . . she didn't want anything to do with the Dark Arts . . .

    That was why she signed for Divination her third year of Hogwarts to the present. Erela tried so hard to see her future. But her future was cloudy. Not even the professor could see Erela's path. She explained it was because Erela was conflicted.

    Erela feared her power, but embraced her abilities at the same time. And the reason for fearing it was mostly because she didn't want to disappoint her family . . .

    It was true, she didn't want to fight her Auror father and see the disappointed look in his eyes. But she didn't embrace her powers . . . if she did, wouldn't she use it more to harm people and gotten expelled years ago?

    Unless . . .  her using it on Michael from time to time to make him stop annoying her count?

    Dammit . . . if it did, then stopping might clear her vision of her future. Or . . .

    Erela choked a cry and she covered her mouth quickly to muffle her voice. Tears ran down her cheeks, her heart ached, and her body trembled with fear. The stress was killing her . . . what if her hard work led to a terrible future?

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