"Is it better to die fighting for freedom than to live in oppression and fear?" She asked, her eyes defiant. She was faring far better than all of her friends under the Ministry but only by luck of her birth. Her parents were muggles, she was a witch, it meant nothing. What if she had magical parents, would it mean she should be oppressed? She hardly thought blood status and genetics were a basis for ridiculous laws taking away freedoms.
She noticed a few of the protestors with their wands out and she looked toward the dark haired man next to her. "It is going to get ugly very soon, I really don't want to see my friends hurt." She had noticed a few familiar faces amongst the crowd and cringed. Sofiya wasn't a fighter, despite her words, she lacked the basic elements to fight. She was more of a nurturer and hated seeing people fight.
She turned away from the protestors, her gaze drifting from his now empty knapsack to the book he held in his hands. It was obvious it held meaning, the way he held it was so cautious and familiar. The book held significance, although she had no idea what it meant to him. "Go home, obey another day." She didn't hesitate as she stepped a step closer and plucked the book from his hands quickly. It might have been surprise that allowed her to gain possession of it but she would never be sure as she backpedaled quickly.
She stared at the book in her hands and up at him for a split second before she disapparated away. Back to the safety of her own flat in a completely muggle area of London, that seemed a million miles away from the chaos of wizarding London.