[Mia is walking down the corridor wearing her Quidditch outfit, accompanied by the rest of the team: Oliver Wood, Fred, George, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell.]
Oliver: I spent the summer devising a whole new Quidditch program.
"The whole summer? He didn't go out with his friends or have fun?" Sirius asked, an incredulous look on his face as he struggled to comprehend spending an entire summer focused on one activity.
"Of course I did, but I focused mostly on the new Quidditch program," Wood said, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he spoke. He could feel a warm flush creeping up his cheeks, but there was no denying the passion that shone in his eyes. "I didn't mind it at all," he added, his voice tinged with enthusiasm. "I love Quidditch, and I'm determined to play professionally after I finish Hogwarts."
His earnestness was evident, and his eyes sparkled with a mixture of determination and excitement as he spoke about his aspirations. It was clear that his dedication to the sport ran deep, and he had embraced the hard work and focus required to achieve his dreams.
Oliver: We are going to train earlier, harder, and longer. [glancing to his left, the rest of the team follows his gaze] What...? I don't believe it. [stepping out into the courtyard, they come across the Slytherin Quidditch team, also dressed for Quidditch, as Ron and Hermione are sitting nearby; Oliver directs his attention to the team's captain, Marcus Flint] Where do you think you're going, Flint?
"Here comes trouble," Remus said, a note of resignation in his voice as he watched the approaching group.
Many were once again on edge, the tension palpable in the air. The mention of the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor evoked a mix of apprehension and wariness. The history of the rivalry loomed large in the minds of those present, as they were all too aware that conflicts between these two houses had a habit of ending in discord. The unspoken tension between the students served as a reminder of the longstanding enmity, underscoring the aversion felt by many toward the impending interaction.
Marcus: Quidditch practice.
Oliver: I booked the pitch for Gryffindor today.
Marcus: Easy, Wood. I've got a note. [holds out a rolled up scroll; Wood takes it and opens it]
Ron: Uh-oh. I smell trouble. [he and Hermione get up and walk towards the two teams]
Oliver: [reading the parchment] I, Professor Severus Snape, do hereby give the Slytherin team permission to practice today, owing to the need to train their new Seeker."
"What is the meaning of this, Severus?" McGonagall demanded, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and concern.
"I don't quite remember writing the letter..." Snape said, his tone laced with a hint of suspicion as he directed a sharp glare at Flint, whose reaction was immediate—a shocked shriek that echoed through the room.
The exchange crackled with tension, with Snape's words hinting at a deeper intrigue as McGonagall's gaze narrowed in response to the unfolding situation. The air filled with uncertainty as each of them grappled with the sudden turn of events, the atmosphere thick with the weight of unspoken accusations and unanswered questions.
[looks up from the parchment] You've got a new Seeker, who? [Marcus steps aside, and Draco steps out towards the Gryffindor team members]
Mia: [amazed that her nemesis is now a member of the Slytherin Quidditch team] Malfoy?
"Oh, I bet his father paid his way in," Sirius shook his head, his tone reflecting a mix of exasperation and disdain.
Draco: That's right. And that's not all that's new this year. [puts his broom at his side; Mia, Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team examine the brooms Draco and the rest of the Slytherin team are holding]
Ron: Those are Nimbus 2001s. How did you get those?
"From his father, who else."
Marcus: A gift from Draco's father.
Draco: You see, Weasley, unlike some, my father can afford the best.
Hermione: At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent. [Draco glares at her in annoyance as he takes a few steps and stops only at arms length in front of her]
"Yeah, you tell them, Hermione," Sirius barked a laugh, his expression a mix of amusement and admiration, while Remus smiled proudly, the fondness evident in his eyes.
"We are so proud of you..." Fred said, his voice filled with genuine pride.
"She is growing up," George chimed in, his tone teasing as they both wiped away imaginary tears, their light-hearted jest capturing the shared bond between them and Hermione.
Molly shook her head at her sons, her affectionate exasperation softened by a fond smile on her face. Her gaze lingered on them, conveying a sense of warmth and understanding as she took in the scene before her, a testament to the love and closeness within their family.
Draco: No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood. [Hermione glares at him, offended by the remark, as Draco sneers.]
The scene unfolded amidst a collective gasp from everyone in the room, the atmosphere crackling with shock and disapproval. The tension mounted as voices rose, each layering on a chorus of condemnation directed at Lucius and Narcissa for their perceived failure in raising their son properly.
"Draco! don't you dare say that word ever again, do you understand me?" Narcissa scolded her son, her tone a mix of firmness and exasperation, while Lucius, seizing the opportunity for a show of authority, delivered a sharp reprimand with a swift hit to the back of Draco's head. His actions, however, were underscored by an undercurrent of shared understanding with Draco, a silent agreement borne from the knowledge that risking the wrath of his wife and the surrounding audience would only lead to further trouble.
Amongst the younger students present, the exact meaning of the word remained elusive, but the palpable severity of the moment was unmistakable, prompting them to absorb the message without fully comprehending its implications.
"I do not want to hear that word from any of you ever again. Do you understand?" Snape sneered, his voice laced with a cold, unforgiving edge. The weight of his words carried the weight of a personal tragedy, stemming from the devastating loss of Lily, evoking a chilling sense of finality that left the students nodding in silent assent, their fear of his disapproval palpable.
The teachers, incensed by the incident, swiftly began to strategize ways to increase their presence outdoors, seeking to maintain a closer watch on the students. Their shared determination reflected a collective commitment to curbing the use of such harmful language, each one driven by a shared responsibility to protect and guide their charges, ensuring that words with the potential to inflict harm would not be tolerated within the walls of their school.
Ron: You'll pay for that one, Malfoy! [he takes out his wand and aims it at Draco] Eat slugs [Unfortunately, Ron's spell backfires, blasting him off backwards and onto the ground. Mia and Hermione immediately rush to his side.]
Hermione: You okay, Ron? Say something! [Ron opens his mouth as if to say something, but instead he spits out a slug.]
Off-screen, the air filled with the sound of gagging and choking as they struggled to contain their revulsion.
Colin Creevey: [starts taking pictures of Ron] Wow! Can you turn him around, Mia?
Mia: No, Colin! Get out of the way. [she and Hermione help Ron to his feet] Let's take him to Hagrid. [Ron regurgitates another slug] He'll know what to do. [The three of them rush off to Hagrid's while the Slytherins laugh at them.]
Madam Pomfrey interjected with an air of authority, her tone carrying a blend of admonishment and concern. "You should've brought him to me," she asserted, her gaze lingering on the trio, emphasizing the importance of seeking professional aid in critical situations.
Hagrid, known for his genuine concern and unwavering support, added his perspective, supporting Madam Pomfrey's sentiment. "She's right, you know. But I'm glad that you three went to get some help, instead of trying to fix it yourselves," Hagrid affirmed, his warm, deep voice tempered with relief at their wise decision.
McGonagall, with her trademark no-nonsense approach and unwavering commitment to her students' well-being, chimed in with a nod of agreement. "Yes," she affirmed, her unwavering gaze reflecting a sense of pride in their responsible choice. Each of their responses, blending care and guidance, underscored the significance of seeking proper aid and assistance in times of need.
[At Hagrid's house, Hagrid walks up to Ron with a bucket as Mia and Hermione sit on either side of him.]
Hagrid: This calls for a specialist's equipment. [Ron takes the bucket as Hagrid sits down] Nothing to do but wait till it stops, I'm afraid. [Ron throws up another slug] Better out than in. Who was Ron trying to curse, anyway?
Mia: Malfoy. He called Hermione... [she and Ron glance at her; she is still very hurt] Well, I don't... I don't know exactly what it means.
The atmosphere in the Hall took on a somber and tense quality, suffused with an undercurrent of unresolved emotions. Silence enveloped the space as every onlooker stood as a witness to the unfolding scene, gripped by the gravity of the moment. The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, as the collective gaze of the assembly remained fixed on the unfolding events. Each individual present absorbed the unfolding scene, their expressions a mosaic of conflicting emotions—a palpable mix of concern, apprehension, and a sour sense of foreboding. The absence of verbal commentary underscored the depth of the impact, the silence acting as a profound acknowledgment of the significance of the moment.
Hermione: [still upset, she gets up and folds her arms as she walks away from her friends] He called me a Mudblood.
Hagrid: [gasps in shock] He did not!
Mia: What's a Mudblood?
Hermione: [spinning around to face her] It means "dirty blood". Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who is muggle-born, someone with non-magic parents, someone like me. It's not a term one usually hears in civilized conversation.
Hagrid: See, the thing is, Mia, there's some wizards, like the Malfoy family, who think they're better than everyone else, because they're what people call pure-blood.
Mia: [appalled by this] That's horrible. [Ron coughs up another slug; Hermione glances at him]
Ron: It's disgusting.
Dean, his face reflecting a confused, inquired, "The word or the slugs?" Like many others in the Hall, he struggled with a queasy sensation, grappling with the unsettling nature of both elements. Meanwhile, most Slytherins seemed to experience queasiness primarily in response to the slugs.
"Both," Ron responded instinctively, his tone carrying a tinge of candid honesty.
Hagrid: And it's codswallop to boot. Dirty blood... Why, there isn't a wizard alive today that's not half-blood or less. More to the point, they've yet to think of a spell that our Hermione can't do. Come here. [Hermione smiles and walks to him] Don't you think on it, Hermione. Don't you think on it for one minute. Hey? [Hermione, despite the tears in her eyes, dons a smile]
Numerous smiles graced the expressions of those present as they observed Hagrid's words, delighted by the sight of Hermione's beaming smile and grateful for the lift in her spirits. However, some individuals continued to direct sharp glances at Draco, their unresolved feelings evident in their lingering expressions.
Although many of the pure-blood children felt inclined to voice their thoughts, they ultimately reasoned that maintaining silence was the most prudent course of action. Their desire to avoid provoking Snape's wrath or eliciting anger from their peers outweighed any impulse to speak out. A pervasive sense of caution overruled their urge to express their opinions, as they navigated the delicate balance of uneasy dynamics within the setting.
In the wake of these observations, a prevailing sense of apprehension emerged among the attendees, as they held a collective intuition that the unfolding movie might not bode well for their overall experience.
happy new year 💖