It was well past midnight when I had decided that I needed to apologize to Ron and make things right. I had managed to coerce the password to the Gryffindor Common Room. I knew Harry, Ron, and Hermione would be the only ones awake so I figured that this would be the perfect time.
"Mimbulus Mimbletonia!" I whisper to the portrait of the Fat Lady outside of the North Tower.
She eyes me skeptically. "I must be mistaken because you are a Slytherin. Slytherins have no reason to be in the Gryffindor Common Room, especially at this hour," She tells me.
I sigh. "I know . . . I really need to talk to my friends. Er — we got into a little fight today and I have to make it up to them," I confess, breathing a little.
The Fat Lady huffs. "That isn't convincing at all. But, alas, you have twenty minutes before I scream."
The door swings open and I enter the Gryffindor Common Room only to find Harry, Ron, Hermione sat by the fireplace. Harry's uncle's head is in the fireplace, casually talking to the trio.
"Amelia?" Hermione asks, as she is the first to notice me. "How did you even get in here?"
"Get out, Amelia," Ron snarls, standing in front of the fireplace to cover Sirius' head.
"No — let her stay," Sirius interjects. "Come here."
I step forward, so that I'm in his eyesight.
"You're Edeline's girl? You look exactly like your mother."
I gasp. "You — You know my mother?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. Harry, Ron, and Hermione look just as shocked as I do.
"Of course, I do. Your mother and I dated for quite a long time. Before she cheated on me with — well, that's a story for another time," He chuckles. "How're things?" Sirius asks the four of us.
"Not that good," Harry confesses. "The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams —"
" — or a secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group?" Sirius inquires.
There's a pause. The trio looks at me with panicked expressions. I try my hardest to not look like I was hurt by the new information. That's the big secret that they decided to keep from me.
The trio talks to Sirius for a bit longer, while I fall into my own world. I don't want to lash out on them with Harry's uncle present. They also mention something about an Order — another secret they've undoubtedly been keeping from me.
What really hurts is that they don't notice me leave.
******
The rest of the week passes by, and by Friday the trio still hasn't said a word to me. The fact that they would throw away a friendship over something they did baffles me.
Our first Quidditch match was today against Gryffindor. I've been told that the Slytherins are by far the best Quidditch team — with the exception of Harry as a Seeker. The strangest thing about Quidditch is that a Seeker can make or break the team.
"Hey, Grey," Draco calls to me at breakfast on Friday morning. "Check this out, will you?"
The two of us have been surprisingly civil ever since our little moment where we'd decided to put aside our differences and become 'friends.' We were nowhere near friends, but I didn't mind making conversation with him when I had to.
Draco holds up a badge in a crown-shape with the words Weasley is our King upon them.
"Want one?" He asks me, smirking.
"Er — sure," I agree weakly, taking the badge from his hands and pinning it onto my robes. After all the cruel things Ron said to me last week and the secrets they've been hiding from me, a small badge shouldn't offend him.
"Wow, Grey. I'm surprised you actually took one. You're changing — I like it," Draco tells me, an impressed look on his face. I feebly nod and hum in response, before guiltily turning around to my plate and eating breakfast.
I can barely scarf down a piece of toast before it's time for my History of Magic class to begin.
Hours later, the frosty grass crunches under my feet as I hurry down the sloping lawns toward the stadium. There is no wind at all and the sky is a pure white, meaning that my visibility during the game will be strong.
I meet the team before the match to change into my Quidditch robes (in a separate room away from the boys). Montague is the first one dressed and he has a determined look on his face. I notice how they all have their crown-shaped badges still on them, so I quickly put mine back on as well.
"We can easily beat the Gryffindors. Pucey and Grey, I need you to pelt the Quaffle into the post with no worries. Weasley is Keeper this year and the weakest on the team," Montague says, looking at me. He knows I am — er, was — friends with Ron. "Malfoy, all you need to do is make sure you get the Snitch before Potter. Crabbe and Goyle, I don't care how dirty you have to play, make sure Potter doesn't catch the Snitch. Any questions?"
We shake our heads collectively. The cheers of the stadium were loud, and some people were even singing. I take a deep breath.
"It's time," Montague says in a hushed voice. "C'mon everybody . . . good luck," He says.
We head outside only to be met with the loud applause from the Slytherin section. The Gryffindors haven't arrived yet, so we stand on our designated side with Montague in the front.
"Captains shake hands," Madam Hooch orders once the Gryffindor team enters, headed by Angelina Johnson. "Mount your brooms . . .,"
The game begins at the blow of her whistle and I quickly shoot upward, with Pucey and Montague right behind me. Angelina retrieves the Quaffle first out of all of us, though.
"And it's Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me —"
"JORDAN!" Professor McGonagall yells.
"And she's ducked from Grey, she's passed Montague, she's — ouch — been hit from behind with a bludger from Crabbe . . . Pucey catches the Quaffle, Pucey heading up to the pitch and — nice Bludger there from George Weasley!" Lee Jordan comments.
"— dodges Pucey, avoids a Bludger — close call, Alicia — The crowd is loving this! Just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"
"Weasley cannot save a thing, He cannot block a single ring, That's why Slytherins all ring, Weasley is our King. Weasley was born in a bin, He always lets the Quaffle in, Weasley will make sure we win, Weasley is our King."
"And — Alicia passes it to Angelina! Come on now, Angelina, looks like she's just got the Keeper to beat! SHE SHOOTS — aaaah," Lee Jordan comments just as Bletchley saves the goal. My insides boil at how biased his commentary is.
Bletchley tosses the Quaffle to me, and I catch it smoothly. I zig zag between Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, both of whom fail to stop me. The singing grows louder and louder as I near Ron.
"Weasley is our King, Weasley is our King, He always lets the Quaffle in, Weasley is our King."
" — and it's Grey with the Quaffle. Grey is out of Quaffle range with just the Keeper ahead . . . so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Ron Weasley, brother of beaters Fred and George, and a promising member of the team — c'mon Ron!"
Following Montague's words, I pelt the Quaffle straight into the central hoop, causing an uproar from the Slytherins.
"Slytherin score! So that's ten-nil to Slytherin — bad luck, Ron . . .," Lee Jordan comments.
"WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN. WEASLEY IS OUR KING!" The singing continues.
Draco was circling the stadium, eager to find the Snitch whilst Harry has remained stationary in one position for over a minute.
" — and it's Grey again, who passes it to Pucey! Pucey drops the Quaffle and Katie Bell — er, drops it too — so that's Montague with the Quaffle. He's up to the pitch! Come on Gryffindor, block him!"
Another cheer from Slytherin indicates that we have scored yet another goal. But twenty-nil was nothing if Harry finds the Snitch before us.
Ron lets in two more goals, one of which were from me and the other Adrian Pucey. Angelina manages to score against Bletchley, making it forty-ten.
"And Potter's spotted the Snitch! Malfoy has also! They're both diving into — ouch! That has ought to hurt," Jordan comments as the two boys collide with each other.
The Slytherins and Gryffindors fly down to the pitch, where Harry and Draco already stand.
"Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you? I've never seen a worse Keeper . . . but then he was born in a bin . . . Did you like my lyrics, Potter?" Draco sneers, white faced with fury. "We wanted to write another verse but we couldn't think of anything that rhymes with fat or ugly . . . We couldn't fit useless loser in either."
Fred and George look angry, their fists balling up. I've never seen either of them so furious, they always seem so cheerful.
" — but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter? Spend holidays there and everything. Can't see how you enjoy the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasley's hovel smells okay —"
"Shut up, Malfoy," I hiss at Draco, pulling his arm. Ron and I may be arguing, but Fred and George do not deserve any of his insults.
George breaks away from Harry's grip, pulling back his fist and bracing to punch Draco.
"George! No!" I scream.
Being the stupid person I am, I instinctively jump in between the two boys, causing George Weasley to strike me in the face.
—
So I submitted my college apps and forgot to put my resume... it was optional but still.
Sorry for no uploads today I'll try to write another one before the night ends