Hillary Potter

Even by Hogwarts standards, Hillary Potter was no ordinary Senator. Whether or not they'd heard about the Prophecy, new acquaintances couldn't help staring at the red mark on her forehead. It was the indentation left there by a headband she'd once worn, and something only Hillary's best friends knew was that it throbbed when she sensed danger. But why was it pulsing now?

"I want to tell you something," he said. "I know the Defense Against the Dark Arts job is open again next year. And everywhere I go, I float through Believers all saying you should try."

She had known all along this was coming. Like his body, Nearly Headless Bill's motives were always transparent.

"You know I can't run," she told him. "I'm only a third-year Hogwarts Senator—not even a prefect yet. I haven't even learned the Immunization Spell. And I can't go against the Prophecy."

But what if Eleanor was wrong about the year?" he urged her. "Hagridlock says that in the Forbidden Forest, the ashcrofts are growing wild. Anyway, if you do decide to run, I wanted you to know I'm with you."

"That's my problem," Hillary very nearly shouted, her headband indentation going scarlet. "Oh, leave me alone, Nearly Headless Bill! I need to think. Go talk to Dumbledole."