We waited until Lockhart was out of sight, then pulled Ron out of the bush and up to Hagrid's front door. I held him while the other two knocked urgently. Though every time he belched put another load of slugs I nearly shoved him back into the bush.
Hagrid appeared quote quickly, looking very grumpy, but his expression brightened when he saw who it was.
"Bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me - come in, come in - thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again."
Harry and i supported Ron over the threshold into the one- roomed cabin, which had an enormous bed in one corner, a fire crackling merrily in the other. Hagrid didn't seem perturbed by Ron's slug problem, which Harry hastily explained as he lowered Ron into a chair.
"Better out than in," he said cheerfully, plunking a large copper basin in front of Ron. "Get 'em all up, Ron."
"I don't think there's anything to do except wait for it to stop," said Hermione anxiously, watching Ron bend over the basin. "That's a difficult curse to work at the best of times, but with a broken wand."
Hagrid was bustling around making them tea. His boarhound, Fang, was slobbering over Harry and i had sat in front of the fireplace.
"What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?" Harry asked, scratching Fang's ears.
"Givin' me advice on gettin' kelpies out of a well," growled Hagrid, moving a half-plucked rooster off his scrubbed table and setting down the teapot. "Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."
"I think you're being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job -"
Hermione's high pitched voice was interrupted when i scoffed, and then Hagrid spoke.
"He was the on'y man for the job," he stated, offering us a plate of treacle fudge, while Ron coughed squelchily into his basin. "An' I mean the on' one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now. So tell me," said Hagrid, jerking his head at Ron. "Who was he tryin' ter curse?"
"Malfoy called Hermione something - it must've been really bad, because everyone went wild," Harry said, frowning.
"It was bad," said Ron hoarsely, emerging over the table top looking pale and sweaty. "Malfoy called her 'Mudblood,' Hagrid."
Ron dived out of sight again as a fresh wave of slugs made their appearance. Hagrid looked outraged.
"He didn'!" he growled at Hermione.
"He did," she said tearfully. "But I don't know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course -"
"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of," gasped Ron, coming back up. "Mud blood's a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born - you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards - like Malfoy's family - who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood."
He gave a small burp, and a single slug fell into his outstretched hand. He threw it into the basin and continued.
"I mean, the rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all. Look at Neville Longbottom - he's pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up."
"An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can' do," said Hagrid proudly, making Hermione go a brilliant shade of magenta.
"It's a disgusting thing to call someone," said Ron, wiping his sweaty brow with a shaking hand. "Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It's ridiculous. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles we'd've died out." He retched and ducked out of sight again.
"Well, I don' blame yeh fer tryin' ter curse him, Ron," said Hagrid loudly over the thuds of more slugs hitting the basin.
"So what if Hermione's muggle-born-" Harry started saying.
"Mudblood," i cut him off, causing everyone to fall silent.
Then almost immediately the three males in the room glared my way and snapped, "Belle!" followed by a belch and a mouthful of slugs.
"Hermione's a mudblood, just as Harry and i are orphans," i said calmly, not looking away from the fireplace, "The world won't forget so why should we? Hermione, mudblood or muggle born, it doesn't really matter. Wear it like armour, as protection and not even Malfoy can use it against you."
"Belle you're-" Harry started but he was again interrupted, this time by Hermione.
"No," she wiped her face, giving me a smile, "Belle's right."
There was a few seconds of silence before Hagrid abruptly said, "Harry. Gotta bone ter pick with yeh. I've heard you've bin givin' out signed photos. How come I haven't got one?"
The rest of us covered out faces, trying not to laugh as Harry looked murderous, but he quickly saw Hagrid was joking.
"I'm on'y jokin'," he said to confirm it, patting Harry genially on the back and sending him face first into the table. "I knew yeh hadn't really. I told Lockhart yeh didn' need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin'."
There was some more talk, and Hagrid showed us the massive pumpkins he had grown, before we headed back up to the castle for lunch. We had barely set foot in the cool entrance hall when a voice rang out.
"There you are, Potter - Weasley - Sparrow." McGonagall came toward us looking angry, "You will all do your detentions this evening. Though Snape seems to think Miss Sparrow has no reason for one."
"I disagree," i stated firmly, making the woman smile. It sounded crazy but I wouldn't let Harry and Ron take punishment alone when I deserved it too.
"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. "Sparrow, you'll be re-organising Snape's cupboards. And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail."
"Oh n - Professor, can't I go and do the trophy room, too?" said Harry desperately while i snickered.
"Certainly not," said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. "Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o'clock sharp, the three of you."
I didn't mind my detention, but 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.
"Filch'll have me there all night," Ron complained 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 . . ."
I didn't comment. That evening after dinner, I skipped down and rattled Snape's door loudly. He glared at me but showed me to the store cupboard.
"Just organise it and get out," he told me.
"You take yourself to seriously, Debbie," I told him.
"Don't call me Debbie, Sparrow," he growled.
I shrugged and got started on the work, it was over pretty fast, we all knew to leave the cupboard tidy in case Snape came after us with something from in here and forced us to drink or eat it.
"Done," I said, stepping out.
"Already?"
"Well you get a certain terrified respect you know, so people don't like making a mess of your things," I admitted. "Um . . . can i ask you something?"
He sighed, as if already regretting letting me speak and put down the papers he was holding.
"What?"
"Why does it seem like it physically pains you to look at me?"
There was silence, and Snape went back to his papers, "You can go now Sparrow."
I frowned and stepped in front of his desk, laying my mother's ring down in front of him. Even if Dumbledore hadn't told me last Christmas, i would have known by the way he tensed up at seeing it.
"Dumbledore told me you were the one with answers." He looked up at me, "I just want to know."
"I will tell you what i believe you should hear, nothing more, understand?"
"Yes sir," i nodded quickly.
"I knew your mother outside of school; she used to live on the same street as i did. She was older by about two years, but she was always looking out for me. On her eighteenth birthday there was an incident, which caused a lot of problems for her, sometime after that she met your father and they got married. She died the day you were born. As you seemed to have noticed, you are a metamorphmagus. She was too, though unlike her, you've quickly gained control - she never did. Now get out."
"But sir," i frowned.
"Out Sparrow, now."
Grumbling curses, i left his office and headed down toward the common room to get some sleep. The next thing I heard was a voice to chill the bone marrow, a voice of breath taking, ice-cold venom.
"Come . . . come to me . . . Let me rip you . . . Let me tear you . . . Let me kill you . . ."
I looked around but there was no one here. Shrugging it off, I headed for bed, thinking my mind was playing tricks on me, even if I didn't believe it.
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