Two of a Kind

DISCLAIMER: We do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters therein. We do, however, own Persiopeia Black and all other original characters created for this story.

Chapter 1: Don't Call Me 'Persy'

My name is Persiopeia Black. I am a relative of the once notorious Sirius Black. First rule about me: don't call me 'Persy'. Sirius used to call me that, just to get my dander up. Once he was sent to Azkaban, I never had to hear that ridiculous nickname again. Eleven years after he was dragged off to Azkaban, I entered Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After a short trip to Diagon Alley to pick up my school robes, books, and wand, I had to get on the Hogwart's Express to go to the castle that would be my home for every school year for the next seven years.

Things went as planned: When I reached the sorting hat, it remembered my family and put me where I belonged – Slytherin House. I'll never forget that year, for it was that year that the Brat Who Lived entered Gryffindor House, and Draco Malfoy became my fellow Slytherin.

I didn't pay much attention to Harry Potter, except to tease him; I mean, really, who in their right mind hangs out with the poverty-stricken Weasleys or a mouthy mudblood? Gryffindorks, all three.

Not that all of my fellow Slytherins are all the grand, either. Pansy Parkinson – ugliest witch alive, no questions asked. And with Crabbe and Goyle, well, say good morning and it takes them fifteen minutes to think up a response. The lot of them are beneath my reckoning.

All save Draco Malfoy. The boy would prove to be my biggest rival. We always competed, no matter what the contest. We each strove to be Professor Snape's prize pupil. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, we spent half our time casting hexes at each other, the other half on schoolwork and defending against the other's hexes.

The Potter boy and his trio of friends – the mudblood witch Hermione Granger, and the Weasley non-twins Ron and Ginny – were troublesome. Every time something went wrong, they were sure to be the cause. They fought the troll our first year. In our second year, Ginny Weasley found Tom Riddle's diary, was saved by Potter, and the diary was confiscated. I'm no Deatheater, but that pissed me off; it could have been a very important piece of evidence against Voldemort; it is his fault that my family is scattered to the four winds after his downfall. Third year, and we find out that Sirius Black, my own uncle, is not the powerful, vengeful wizard we thought he was!

He was a sorry excuse for a secret-keeper. He dropped the whole deal in Peter Pettigrew's lap, and the family's been disgraced ever since. He escaped from Azkaban to find Harry and 'make things right'. Yeah, by practically adopting the prat. He has a muggle set of relatives to care for him. He didn't need my uncle to take care of him. So what if he didn't like the Dursleys? Not my problem, that.

Somehow, Potter managed to enter the Tri-Wizard Tournament. And win. The shame that whole ordeal brought on the House of Slytherin. And the death of Cedric Diggory! At least he entered fair and square, not by hook and crook like Potter. Slytherin should have put a name forward. We would have won, hands down. But no, Cedric Diggory got it… and somehow, Harry Potter outwitted Dumbledufus and put his name in – and he was chosen! Well, that was absolutely awful. As a result, we Slytherins threw our support behind Diggory. Just our luck, he got himself killed.

And then our fifth year rolled around. I never saw it coming, but I was made a prefect. And it would have been perfect… except Draco Malfoy became the other prefect. We had to share the prefects' compartment all the way to Hogwart's that year. Then, our rooms were right next to each others in the prefects and Head boy/girls dormitory. Everything I would do, I would have to share with him. And that's where my story ends, and our story begins.