The Mudblood

Chapter 10 : Year 1

Ginny and I were unable to find her diary in the deserted girls' bathroom, but a few days later she informed me that she'd been able to retrieve it, although she didn't tell me where. She was slightly embarrassed for the next few days after Valentine's Day, considering she'd hired a dwarf to deliver a poem to Harry, who did not receive it as kindly as she'd thought he would. For the next few months, she refused to sit anywhere near him at meals, and she would run at the sight of him.

As for Melody and Harper, that relationship clearly did not happen, although they did remain friends—at least in Harper's eyes. Neither of them had spoken to me much since Valentine's Day, but then again, they hadn't really been my friends before the incident, so I wasn't too worried about it. What worried me more was the fact that neither of them had tried to plot any revenge on me. I naively hoped that they had just forgotten about it entirely.

Astoria continued to obsess over Draco Malfoy, even though Pansy Parkinson was practically glued to his arm. After Slytherin's win against Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match in April, Malfoy was particularly cocky, strutting about the castle as though he owned the place. All of the young Slytherin girls trailed him everywhere, including Astoria. The only ones who didn't seem enthralled by Draco Malfoy were Melody (who hated everyone), Ashley (who was only concerned with her brother's demise) and me (who had grown to hate Malfoy with a burning passion).

I almost thought that all of this "Heir of Slytherin" stuff was in the past, too, until the second weekend in May.

I was walking through the Slytherin common room, headed for the library, when I saw the large commotion that Marcus Flint was stirring up over by the fireplace.

"That's right, we're taking bets on which Mudblood will be attacked next," Flint announced as he held up a large piece of parchment. Most of the students in Slytherin House were now gathered around him, all eager to place their bets. "Sign your name under the Mudblood that you think will be attacked next for a chance to win some Galleons!"

"You're disgusting, Flint," I sneered, my arms tightly clutching my books.

Flint flashed a nasty grin at me. "Don't worry, Fitzroy, your name is on the list. We didn't forget. You can always sign under your own name, you know. That way, if you survive the Heir of Slytherin, you'll have some money to come back to. If you survive."

I rolled my eyes as I stomped over toward him. Snatching the list out of his hands, I glanced down at it to see that almost everyone had signed their name under mine: Malfoy, Pansy, Daphne, Melody—even Astoria had put her name under mine. My eyes flickered back up toward Flint, who was still grinning maliciously.

"No one else is going to get attacked, so I don't know what you plan to do with all of the money," I snapped. "This 'Heir of Slytherin' rubbish is clearly over. He hasn't attacked anyone in months, and soon enough everyone who's been petrified will be cured."

"Don't be so sure, Mudblood," Flint countered, a knowing look in his eyes.

I threw the list on the ground and then stormed out of the common room. Some of the other Slytherins were snickering, but I completely ignored them. Any pride I'd ever felt in Slytherin House had completely disintegrated at that point in time. How could they be so heartless—so cruel? People were people; why did blood status matter? And why did they always have to single me out?

As I walked through the dungeon corridors fuming, the light of the torches suddenly went out, and I found myself in complete darkness. With slight anxiousness, I dropped my books and began to dig through my pocket for my wand. Unfortunately, before I could find it, something kicked me in the back, sending me flying to the ground with a loud thump.