First day back after Christmas holidays, seventh year. I'm wandering the corridors, trying to find my mates; classes are over. I turn into a near-empty corridor, to see Jacob Nott and Peter Mulciber hanging a third-year Gryffindor in the air by his ankles. The contents of his bag were strewn across the floor, his face was bright red and he looked like he was about to cry.

'Put him down!' I yelled. They looked up and grinned when they saw me coming.

'As you wish,' Mulciber gave me a mocking bow and flicked his wand, sending the boy crashing to the ground. The boy scrambled to get the contents of his bag together. Nott grabbed him by the back of his shirt, half-holding him off the ground.

'I said put him down,' I reached for my wand, which was tucked into my ponytail, but someone else took it before I reached it. I spun, fists up in the 'Guard' position that Teddy had taught me years ago, and found myself looking into the smirking face of Scorpius Malfoy. 'Give me my wand back.'

'You know, I don't think I will.' By this point, Nott and Mulciber were interested in us enough to let the third-year scramble off.

'Give me my wand back now,' I said quietly. It was a trick I'd learned from years of living with my mother; if you say something quietly and simply, but with the force of retribution behind it, people are much more likely to listen.

I listened; I could hear a shift of cloth as Nott snuck closer to me from behind. Malfoy was good; he barely flicked his eyes over my shoulder, but between that and the sounds, I knew exactly where he was. I crouched and pulled his leg out from underneath him, so he fell on his back, winding himself. I kicked his wand away from his hand and turned back to Malfoy. Mulciber had disappeared to God-knows-where; he's a Prefect, and if he gets in any more fights, he gets his title removed.

So it was just me and Malfoy. 'Malfoy, it's not funny. Give me my wand back.' My fists were still up, with my feet in fighter's stance and every muscle tensed. I knew that before he could so much as twitch his wand hand, I'd have him doubled over making bubbling noises.

'You know, it's kind of a pretty wand,' he said, waving it around in lazy circles.

'Quit fucking with me, and give me my bloody wand back!' I was beginning to get angry, but I forced it down; I didn't actually want to hit him.

'Goodness. Such language. You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.' He smiled scathingly.

'No, you really don't. Remember, we tried that one in first year?'

'I just have the faintest memory…'

'Look I'm just trying to get my wand back. And if you don't give it here, I'll slug you.' He laughed, thinking I wasn't serious. 'Five. Four. Three. Two. This is your last chance. No? One.' I twitched my hand like I was bringing it up, and he flinched. Then he colored with embarrassment at being got. 'Gotcha.' I said, and sank my fist into his face; I felt the bones of his nose break.

He staggered backwards, then started at me, forgetting the wand. He aimed a swipe at me, which I dodged, then smacked him neatly on the temples with the little knob of bone between my hands and the insides of my wrists. He dropped like a stone. I reached down and plucked my wand out of his hand. 'I'll have that, thanks.' I looked down, and thought about when he woke up, with a broken nose in an empty corridor, and I felt bad. So I pointed my wand at his nose and said 'Episky.' It was kind of creepy, watching the cartilage mold itself back into shape as it healed. I walked to the end of the corridor and waved my wand at his prone form. 'Ennervate,' I said, and then booked it out of there.

And that rat bastard sold me out. He went to the Hospital Wing looking like that, and he told McGonagall what I'd done after he'd been cleaned up, but he made it sound unprovoked. So now I was cleaning the corridor that he'd bled on, without magic, as my punishment.

Now, since I have a couple of hours while I clean the corridor, I'll tell you about our history, beginning with the first day of first year.