The Brothers Black

Chapter 13

"Stop it! You look dumb," I giggled as Bertram blew bubbles into his butterbeer. He chuckled as the white foam gave him a Santa-like mustache around his mouth. We were sitting together at the Three Broomsticks on the second and final day of our Hogsmeade trip. It had gone a lot better today. Once I had stopped trying so hard to make it perfect, I realized that Bertram was actually fun to talk to, and we had been having a good time.

The bell of the lively pub jingled, signaling the entrance of a new customer. Audree and Lucinda pranced in, heads tilted up as if it was below them to be entering the establishment. As they walked by our table, one of them scoffed at Bertram and me, and I rolled my eyes in response. Even if I didn't have to worry about seeing James or his friends on this trip, there were plenty of other awkward encounters to go around.

Audree and Lucinda sat at a table on the other side of the restaurant. It was full of Slytherin boys, some in our grade and some older. I recognized a few familiar faces – Black, Rosier, Snape, Wilkes.

"Addy?" Bertram waved his hand in front of my face and I realized I must have zoned out.

"Yeah?" I asked.

He stood up from the table. "I was trying to tell you I'm going to the loo."

I nodded.

Madame Rosmerta walked over to offer me more butterbeer. "You're James Potter's little sister, aren't you? Haven't seen him this trip."

"He got suspended," I responded. "Well, Sirius did."

"Doesn't surprise me," she grinned. "Well, can I get you anything else?"

I shook my head no, and looked back towards the Slytherin table. It looked like they were playing some form of Wizard's Poker, but I couldn't be sure. They were all yelling vulgar insults at each other with language that did not seem appropriate. I thought Madame Rosmerta would be upset, but she looked amused.

"Quite the rowdy bunch, aren't they?" she laughed.

"You wouldn't even know," I grumbled.

I overheard their table's conversation shift to the upcoming Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch game.

"I heard that Sirius Black payed off Dumbledore to hex the snitch for the game!" one girl said.

"Yeah, well I heard that Marlene McKinnon got hit by a Bludger during training and is out for a month," added a boy.

"It'll be an easy win," Black agreed.

"Potter put his kid sister on the team. I bet she can't even ride a broom," someone else said.

The table erupted in laughter. I scoffed to myself, but it wasn't like I was going to do anything. I didn't care what they said about me.

"It doesn't even matter," Rosier responded. "James Potter can't throw the Quaffle for his life."

"James Potter is just an oaf," scoffed Snape.

"And a blood traitor" a boy muttered, and the table erupted into laughter.

I could deal with them talking about me like that, but not my family. I stood up. "Hey! Why don't you keep your troll-sized heads out of other people's business?"

The table quieted as their heads all turned toward me.

"Did we interrupt your date, Potter?" Black sneered.

"I'm gonna interrupt your –" I started.

I was cut off by a green hex hurling past my head . The momentum threw me backward against the ground. I slowly turned to see a dent in what used to be the wall behind me.

"Next time, I won't miss," a voice commanded.

A wide boy stood in front of me with his wand pointed toward me. It was the one who had called James a blood traitor. Mulciber.

"We aren't on Hogwarts grounds," Mulciber continued. "I have a bone to pick with a Potter. Doesn't matter which one."

My stomach dropped and the hair stood up on my arms. I hadn't even heard him cast the spell. Who knows what kind of powers this boy had? I really hoped Bertram came back from the bathroom soon.

"Unless you want to go back to Hogwarts a lot less pretty, I don't want to hear another word from you," he walked toward me.

I tilted my chin up in defiance, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Let's hope you don't have to learn what happens when you talk back to us," he spat. "This is a warning. Now, we're going to get back to our table, and you can go back to your mudblood boyfriend."

I tried my best to stay quiet. I really did. But the words escaped my lips before I could stop myself.

"Don't you dare!" I screamed.

In retrospect, I could have said something with a little more punch. You know, for sacrificing my safety and all. But it was too late:

I shut my eyes and jumped back, preparing for impact from another one of his destructive spells.

Nothing happened, and I slowly blinked my eyes open. To my surprise (like the most unexpected surprise that could ever happen), Regulus Black stood in between me and Mulciber, blocking his shot.

"Get out of the way, Black," Mulciber warned.

I watched Regulus carefully. He stood a head taller than Mulciber as they faced off in the center of the pub, but I could tell he was a little daunted by the older boy's presence. I didn't know what he was trying to do, except that it was definitely not for my benefit.

"Now, gentleman," started Black. "We wouldn't want to cause any trouble in Madame Rosmerta's lovely restaurant here. Besides, bad for our reputation to be messing with this puny Gryffindor again. Her big brother's not even here to save her."

"All the more easy to end it now," Mulciber retorted.

"I don't think so." Madame Rosmerta stepped into the center of the pub. "I would put that wand down, young man, unless you want this to be your last time in here. Or you want to pay for that hole in the wall."

Mulciber grimaced and lowered his wand. Black looked satisfied. I felt like crap.

Everyone treated me like some helpless little kid who couldn't do anything for herself. Black acted like I was a nothing more than a joke to the Slytherins. I was better than him at every subject, minus Potions. I could handle myself in a fight just as much as he could.

Just then, Bertram returned from the bathroom. He looked more confused than I had ever seen him. Which is saying a lot after our last Arithmancy test.

I could see why the scene may have looked weird, though. I was still on the floor, and Mulciber and Black were still in the middle of the pub. All of the Slytherins had gotten up from their seats, and Madame Rosmerta was standing in between them.

The pub returned to normal when Madame Rosmerta went back to waiting on the customers at the table nearby. Mulciber backed down, and Black walked back toward his table.

"Go home before you get your pigtails into something else you can't handle," Black called to me over his shoulder.

I tucked my braids behind my ears, fuming with anger. I grabbed Bertram's hand. "Come on," I said, slamming the bill on the table " We're leaving."

Black turned back once more, this time toward Bertram. "You're going to want to stay away from that one," he said viciously, nodding toward me.

"What just happened?" Bertram asked as I dragged him out the door.

I left the explanation a bit vague, but Bertram seemed upset enough from what I told him. He apologized multiple times for not being there to help, but I told him it didn't matter.

As soon as I got back to my dorm, I pulled out my pigtails. I wasn't going to be called a baby again. Those Slytherin clowns were nothing but a bunch of ill-mannered, heinous barf bags that ruined my Hogsmeade weekend.

Today, however terrible it was, made one thing abundantly clear.

There is absolutely no one on earth that I hate more than Regulus Black.