The Hogwarts Express had always been the place where Millicent Bulstrode felt the most content. Perhaps it was sitting in a compartment of the train, becoming lost in thought as she watched the scenery roll by. Or perhaps it was the anticipation of another year, spent with her friends in the Slytherin common room or during weekend trips to Hogsmeade.
It was a side not often seen; laughing freely, and not the kind of sneering mirth she directed toward other students not of her house. It was a true thing, in her heart. She didn't let many see it, though, because she knew they'd take advantage of her weakness. It was what she percieved as her weakness.
Today, however, the hustle and bustle seemed to have been eradicated from Platform 9 and 3/4. Families huddled together, grim-faced, and whispered their goodbyes to their children. Millicent was very sure that not one person could be caught smiling or joking with their friends. It was very odd, indeed.
The brunette peered down at a small cage that rested on the top of her trolley. Her cat, Dervish, was distinctly whinging. "I'll let you out on the train, I promise," she whispered.
"Hem, hem."
The sheer volume of the sound, though not particularly loud, startled Millicent in contrast with the quiet of the train platform. She whirled around, her thick, unruly hair falling into her face as she did so.
Standing before her was none other than Dolores Umbridge, her former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. She had on Ministry robes over what was undoubtedly one of her disgusting, pink ensembles, and she clutched parchment and quill in her stubby little hands.
Millicent detested the woman, even though she had participated in Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad in fifth year. It had all been in good fun, being authorised by a teacher to rough up Big-Head Potter and his friends. The woman, however, was absolutely vile and Millicent had hated taking orders from such a sycophant.
"I must inform you, Ms. Bulstrode, that there is a new policy in effect for pets of students at Hogwarts." As Umbridge spoke, two burly wizards, also in Ministry robes, seemed to appear out of nowhere behind her. They towered over the short, squat woman. "The Ministry is required to confiscate all pets, to be thoroughly examined, and also to be equipped with tracking spells. For the safety of the students and staff, of course." She smiled. "That includes, but is not limited to: owls, toads, rodents...and cats."
Dervish stirred in his cage, almost as if he had heard and understood what was being said. Millicent's hand instinctively went to the handle of the cage, grasping it protectively. "You...you want to take my cat?"
"Oh, you'll get the animal back, Ms. Bulstrode...providing that it passes Ministry standards, of course." Her mean little eyes strayed toward the cage. "You're not thinking of defying the Ministry, are you, Ms. Bulstrode? As a former member of the Inquisitorial Squad, you must know how unwise that would be." At this, Umbridge gave a little giggle that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The evil cow.
One of the wizards grabbed the cage and pulled it easily away from Millicent's grip. She wasn't exactly a dainty girl, but the large man easily overpowered her. Besides, it wasn't as if she could really put up a fight. Umbridge was a Ministry official, and her parents had warned her not to make trouble this year. They didn't need the unwanted attention.
She was not a sentimental person; she often laughed at others' troubles, because that's just what her friends did to entertain themselves. But seeing her cat being carried away tore at her throat, as if she had swallowed Bowtruckles. She could feel tears sting her eyes, but she would not let anyone have the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Not anyone. Ever.
There was nothing for it. She had no idea when Dervish would be returned to her, if he would, at all. She saw no reason why he wouldn't be, he was just an ordinary cat. A kitten when she had first recieved him as a gift, on her eleventh birthday. She had hated him then. Pesky little thing. But over time, she had grown quite attached, more so than she ever felt with any human.
Taking a deep breath to regain her composure, she began to walk toward the train, pulling the trolley behind her.
Umbridge, who had been writing something on her parchment, looked up sharply. "Ms. Bulstrode, I am not finished with you quite yet." The false laugh and simpering tone was gone from her voice; it was now harsh and commanding. She beckoned Millicent closer with a ringed finger.
"There are other policies being enacted, Ms. Bulstrode. One in particular, which hasn't been publicised...yet. It is a registry, a registry for muggle-borns and half-bloods."
Millicent could feel a sort of creeping, hot sensation growing in her toes, spreading into her stomach. Her heart started beating faster. "I don't know what that has to do with me."
"Oh, I'm sure you do. Licentia Bulstrode, your muggle-born mother. Her parents emigrated here from Romania, I believe." She double-checked the parchment. "Yes. And your father, Kendrick, is a half-blood. That would make you about as impure as a common muggle, wouldn't it?" A laugh this time, not a giggle; a cruel, cold sound.
"The policy, Ms. Bulstrode, is that until we can round up and question every muggle-born and half-blood, all students of such...blood status are required to wear...this." And with a flourish of her little wand, a sort of badge appeared on the breast of Millicent's robes.
The girl looked down in horror, reading the words inscribed there. "Probationary student of magic, pending investigation?"
"We are civilised, Ms. Bulstrode. And civilised people do not tolerate thieves, be it of physical property or the secrets and magic of pure-blood heritage. Do have a good term...I expect I'll be seeing you and your family soon for questioning." And with that, the old hag of a witch spun on her heel and marched off, her wizard companions and Millicent's mewling cat following behind her.
