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── WE'VE GOT THE VISION . . .
SUMMARY
Ana Calderon thoroughly loved attending Hogwarts. Truly, it was somewhere she would escape, where she felt closest to her father, further from the realities of the former secrecies of her home life - and seriously, nothing had ever been the same since everything was revealed to herself and her sister. And all of her friends were there. She always had that same warm feeling in her stomach when she returned, and always could try and forget that deeper darkness that sat in her stomach that was always there.
Everything about Hogwarts had always been so safe. It seemed like everything, if anything at all, happened, it happened to Harry Potter. And she felt bad for him, truly she did, because despite everything he was still a nice guy, but somewhere deep down she was glad that she wasn't being led down to a dingy centuries-old chamber, that a serial killer wasn't coming after her, that she hadn't been forced into competing in the Triwizard Tournament.
Because then it was when Harry Potter's problems bled into her own, because the third task had seen Voldemort return and the Wizarding World jump into hostility against who was once their favourite. Their hero, their saving grace, now a liar, who wanted nothing but chaos by claiming he was back.
She believed him. Even though her dad had been killed by him and forced her mother to lie about everything to them until there was no other option but to reveal all. His own parents had died at the hands of him, Harry had almost been killed himself, and so she could not just disregard his claims as the ravings of a madman like so many could.
Even when that golden glow of Hogwarts faded, replaced by the worst shade of pink she had ever seen, she believed him. The Ministry was cracking down on the freedom of Hogwarts, transforming it into a punishment-lined shell of something long forgotten, and when Harry Potter became leader of a resistance group against the Ministry right under Umbridge's nose, she can't quite help but join.
Especially not when Dean Thomas, the guy who seemed to be the only reason why anything in her year was going somewhat well, asked her so nicely.
. . .
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── NOW LETS HAVE SOME FUN
. . .
" you were a child, crawling on your knees toward it making momma so proud but your voice is too loud we like to watch you laughing you pick the insects off plants no time to think of consequences " ── kids, mgmt
. . .
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