GLORY // book one

- PART 6 -

I bit my lip, shaking my head as I tried to fight a smirk. "You know, it's only two champions from each school, which means—"

"You and me, love." George grinned, tugging my chair closer to his. "Freddie can cheer us on."

"More like me and Cassius while you Gryffin-dorks cheer Slytherin on for the win."

From a few desks away, a Slytherin let out a whoop, making me roll my eyes and the bane of my existence— Moody — to shout a scolding. I usually wasn't one for house pride but I'd choose Slytherin over the other houses any day. And I'd choose anyone over George Weasley every day.

It has always been quite obvious that Slytherin's get unfair blame. We're the house with the highest annual number of orphaned, neglected, or abused students. Most with families are pressured to join the Death Eaters, and many don't return each semester.

The Triwizard Tournament— as pitiful as it sounded —is Slytherin's one chance at true glory. If we win the House Cup, the other three are losers. If we gain House Points, we've attained them unfairly. When we win a Quidditch match, we were cheating. It's always something we do wrong. But, if one Slytherin got chosen, the whole school would be cheering us on. Suddenly, we would be— we would be great. And, if we won? Merlin, I think the whole school would wear green.

Not that I would ever, ever admit that to the world. Even if it was about my own House, I wasn't one to show attachment towards anything, or offense about anything some stupid Gyrffin-dorks think about me. I wasn't going to let anyone have that power over me. Not again. I burned my bridges a long time ago, and I have no intent on rebuilding them.

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It was long after lunch that I was summoned to the Headmaster's Office. I figured it was about my complete abandonment of Prefect Duties, and brought with the badge I rarely wore, ready to give the position away the first chance I got. Since the start of term, I had only attended half of the meetings, and forgot of skipped any duties I had. I'm pretty sure I was in charge of showing around some of the delegates, but I never did. Also, I may have been selling pranking supplies to students since the start of term. I realized last year that instead of getting my hands dirty, I could just give others the means to do it themselves.

But, as I strolled into Dumbledore's office, I wasn't met with a lecture or shouting match. Instead, I was met with pleasantries.

"Ah, Miss Black, please, take a seat,"

I resisted rolling my eyes at the niceties, slouching in one of the plush chairs across from him. "It's actually Marx. Sir."

"My apologies, Miss Marx. Now, on to why I've summoned you." I braced myself, ready to make up an excuse for whatever he thought I did. "I'm afraid you have been led to believe that you are allowed to participate in the Triwizard Tournament."

I felt my stomach drop. "Because I am, professor. I turned 16 before—"

"You were 15 at the start of Term. I apologize, but you are not allowed to enter."

I stood with clenched knuckled, already feeling my face go red with anger. "That's bull. I turned 16 before the Tournament, I should be allowed to enter."

"I'm sorry, Miss Marx, but you are not. Your parents agree that—"

"My parents? Plural?" I questioned loudly. "Sirius did this— didn't he? He called you, so— so he wouldn't get bad press if— if I became a Champion—"

"I apologize, Miss Marx. But, you are ineligible to participate."

I let out a noise of anger before storming out of his office, barely catching what Dumbledore said as I left. "Just like your father."