The Weasley of Slytherin: The Chamber of Secrets

Chapter 9: Slugs

Ron and Hermione were crossing the grass to see what was going on.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?"

He was looking at Malfoy, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy smoothly.

"But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The rest of the Slytherin team howled with laughter, although I just stood there not grinning.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered.
"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat. I felt my blood boil as he said this, anger rising up inside of me.

There was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, although he didn't account for me grabbing Malfoy by the collar from behind and sinking my fist into his nose, causing a very satisfying crunch. It took both of the beater to pull me off of Malfoy to stop me punching him wherever my fists could reach.

Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!" and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoys face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Hermione.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.

The Slytherin team were paralyzed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging onto his new broomstick for support. I even gave a few chuckles, although I did join the Gryffindors to make sure Ron, who kept belching large, glistening slugs, was alright. Nobody seemed to want to touch him.

"We'd better get him to Hagrid's, it's nearest," said Harry to Hermione, who nodded bravely, and the pair of them pulled Ron up by the arms.

"What happened, Harry? What happened? Is he ill? But you can cure him, can't you?" Colin had run down from his seat and was now dancing alongside them as they left the field. Ron gave a huge heave and more slugs dribbled down his front.

"Oooh," said Colin, fascinated and raising his camera. "Can you hold him still, Harry?"

"Get out of the way, Colin!" said Harry angrily. He and Hermione supported Ron out of the stadium and across the grounds toward the edge of the forest.

"Malfoy you'd better get up to the hospital wing." Flint said looking at his clearly broken nose. "And Weasley, another attack like that and you're off the team."

"I'm not going to sit back and do nothing if Draco's going to use language like that." I spat at him.

"I don't care what Malfoy called anyone you're not to lay a finger on anyone on this team while we're at practice." Flint told me angrily.

I glare at Malfoy as he ran away from the pitch, sniveling and holding his bleeding nose, I was full of such rage I didn't even know where it had come from. I grit my teeth to stop from talking back, my fists clenched at my side.

"Alright you lot up in the air." Flint barked.

I grabbed my broom and kicked off of the ground. Hard. Overall the practice wasn't terrible, I nearly broke Bletchly's nose as I chucked the quaffle right at his face, and nearly knocked Pucey off his broom as I checked him.

"Good practice everyone, we'll meet again next week." Flint barked as we landed an hour later. "And Weasley I expect to see that ferocity at our first match."

I scowled at him as I hurried towards Hagrid's hut, Malfoy's blood still on my uniform.

"How's he doing?" I asked as I barged into the hut. Ron was sitting in a chair with a large wooden bucket that was full of slugs.

"'E's alright, just gotta throw 'em all up." Hagrid told me.

We stayed there for a while longer chatted before Ron seemed to be better, and the four of us headed back up to the castle for lunch.

"You've got a bit of blood on your uniform (Y/n)." Hermione told me as we entered the castle.

I just shrugged. "Must be Malfoy's." I said.

We had barely set foot in the cool entrance hall when a voice rang out, "There you are, Potter — Weasley." Professor McGonagall was walking toward them, looking stern. "You will both do your detentions this evening."

"What're we doing, Professor?" said Ron, nervously suppressing a burp.

"You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch," said Professor McGonagall. "And no magic, Weasley — elbow grease."

Ron gulped. Argus Filch, the caretaker, was loathed by every student in the school.

"And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail," said Professor McGonagall.

"Oh n — Professor, can't I go and do the trophy room, too?" said Harry desperately.

"Certainly not," said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. "Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o'clock sharp, both of you."

Harry and Ron slouched into the Great Hall in states of deepest gloom, Hermione behind them, wearing a well-you-did-break-school-rules sort of expression, and with bringing up the rear.

"Filch'll have me there all night," said Ron heavily. "No magic! There must be about a hundred cups in that room. I'm no good at Muggle cleaning."

"I'd swap anytime," said Harry hollowly. "I've had loads of practice with the Dursleys. Answering Lockhart's fan mail... he'll be a nightmare..."

The four of them spent the rest of the afternoon lazing around, Ron occasionally throwing up a slug before they had to leave for their detentions.

I ate dinner with Hermione that night before heading down to the dungeons to sleep, although I found it hard to do.

I was just about to fall asleep however when I heard something. It was a voice, a voice to chill the bone marrow, a voice of breathtaking, ice-cold venom.

"Come... come to me... Let me rip you.. .Let me tear you.. .Let me kill you..."

I sat upright in my bed, groping for my wand next to my bed holding it out in front of me, yet I was the only one awake in the dorm.