"Ginny!"
Ron's voice echoed through the hall as I pushed past people to get up to the common room. Though Periwinkle had been nice enough to welcome me to Slytherin house while we were down in the dining hall, I was completely on my own going down to the dungeons, guided only by the black robes with the dark emerald ties. In my head, I kept repeating the password to tell the alchemist in the moving painting. Pumpernickel, pumpernickel, pumpernickel, I chanted, weaving my way through slower students. A hand landed on my shoulder and yanked me back, and I collided into my brother.
"Ron!" I cried, slapping his arm away. "What is your problem?"
"You got sorted into Slytherin is my problem!" he yelled back, pulling me to the side of the hall away from the throngs of people passing through. We stopped by a knight's armor, and I could've sworn I saw it turn its head in interest when we walked by.
"What?" I demanded, scandalized. First of all, why was he looking at me as if it were my fault that the Hat thought I'd be a better Slytherin than a Gryffindor? It wasn't as if I asked to be Slytherin! It was either that or Ravenclaw, and honestly I didn't feel too clever so as to being a Ravenclaw. Second of all, what business of his was it, anyway? He had just as much control over the matter as I did! So what if I was a Slytherin? It just happened, and now I'd spend seven years there because of it. I'd just have to deal with it, and so would he! "Ron, it's not my fault!"
"But—Gryffindor! That's where you were supposed to go!" he shouted, causing several heads to turn our way. My typically pale freckled face flushed a bright red as I cast my gaze downwards, hoping none of my housemates had heard him.
"How'd you even hear about it?" I asked quietly, still avoiding his eyes. "You weren't at the sorting. You weren't…there."
His eyes widened with sad understanding as he realized exactly what I meant. "Gin, I wanted to be there for you, I really did, but Harry and I got into a bit of a disaster with Dad's car and the Womping—"
"Wait, wait, wait," I interrupted, looking aghast at what he'd begun to say. "You messed with Dad's car? And you have the…the nerve to bother me for getting into Slytherin, something I have no control over?" I took a step backwards as something clicked inside my mind, and I realized what this could mean if the Ministry found out anything magical about Dad's car. "Blimey, Ron, do you have any idea how much trouble he could get into for—" I caught myself, and lowered my voice just in time. "For having a flying car?"
Ron's face paled, which is saying something since his face is usually pretty white. "Ginny, you don't think…" His voice trailed off as his eyes widened, presumably realizing just what his actions could cause. Then his eyebrows furrowed together and he turned back to me, fire in his green eyes. "Now, don't you turn this around on me! It's not my fault that some stupid bloke closed the barrier onto the platform, alright? And it's not my fault you got sorted into Slyth—"
"Yeah, well, it's not my fault either!" I screamed at him. Then, with a flourish worthy of Lucius Malfoy himself, I stalked away, my black wizard robes billowing behind me as I made my way down the stairs to the dungeons.
Ahead of me, I could just see a group of Slytherins clambering down the steps, talking obnoxiously loudly about their luxurious summer vacations. In the typical venomous voice of his, Draco was saying, "Naturally, there were some guards asking how we'd simply appeared at the top of the Eiffel Tower, but my father, you know, from the Ministry, he settled it."
"With magic?" asked Pansy, sounding incredibly interested in his story.
Draco scoffed. "Not with magic, you silly twit! He would've gotten in trouble! No, it was the muggles' version of magic—money. That's right, the guard didn't remember anything," he told her with a wink, still looking a little miffed about the suggestion that his father had done magic in front of a muggle. "Pansy, please, everyone knows you can't do magic in front of muggles! Well, almost everyone!" he added, drawling the second word out as he snuck a look over his shoulder right at me. I felt my face flush once again at the reference, sure that Ron would at least be getting a Howler to make up for his blatant disregard of rules.
"Ginny!" called a voice from behind me. I turned around just in time to see Periwinkle Dotfrey skipping down the steps towards me, looking relieved. "Thank Merlin I've found you! I was worried sick that you'd gotten lost!"
My eyebrows furrowed together, confused. What did she care if I'd gotten lost, anyways? She hadn't offered to take me to the dorm, so obviously I'd be more likely to get lost. She clearly hadn't been too 'worried sick' about it! Her mouth opened slightly as her mind made a connection that mine didn't.
"Parkinson," she hissed, annoyed, as she linked her arm with mine by the elbow and dragged me forward, slowing down only slightly to say "Pumpernickel" to the alchemist in the painting. Once we got through the security, we bounced down another set of stairs to get to the girls' dorms.
"You liar!" she cried, walking over to where Pansy had been talking to one of her friends with dark brown hair. "You said you'd take her down here!"
"Correction," Pansy replied, not even flinching even though Periwinkle was bending over her, practically shouting into her ear. "I said I'd make sure she got here. And," she added as an afterthought, pointing at me nonchalantly, "she's here. Isn't she?"
The other girl smirked up at Periwinkle, who drew out her wand and pointed it at her threateningly. "I reversed that jinx that sewed your lips shut, Skylar, and I'd gladly un-reverse it." As if Periwinkle had actually done it, Skylar's lips immediately pressed together and she didn't say anything until the older girl was by my side.
"Merlin's beard, I'm so sorry, Ginny!" she apologized, leading me over to a nearby tea table with a couple of chairs positioned across from each other. "That Pansy Parkinson is a person to look out for, I'll tell you that much!"
"Yes, thank you," I answered softly, looking around the dorm. It was in the shape of a doughnut, with the center being the spiral staircase. The table where we were then sitting was in between a few beds, as, predictably, was the table across the doughnut. In my mind, I counted about 6 beds, but then again this was just the sixth floor down, where all the second years would be. The bottom floor, just one flight down, would be where I would have to sleep. I wrung my hands nervously, anxious as to whom I'd be sharing the floor with.
"Ginevra," Periwinkle sighed, obviously having caught my look of despair, "don't you worry. You're not the only first year here, and not everyone is as bloody miserable as Malfoy, Crabbe, Pansy and Skylar. You'll do just fine on your own, trust me!" Her encouraging words sent my spirits soaring and I beamed at her, glad that someone was on my side—whatever 'my side' meant. Then I was brought back to reality with a thud as Periwinkle continued, "Especially once you show Marcus what you can do!"
I tilted my head to the side, confused as to the sudden change of topic. Who was Marcus, and why would I be showing him what I can do? I asked her so, but she merely laughed and waved it off. "Marcus Flint, our—oh, no, haven't they told you about Quidditch?"
I rolled my eyes at such a dumb question. Who didn't know what Quidditch was? Seriously, my father may have been obsessed with muggles, but that didn't mean that we were obscure as to wizarding sports! "No, I know what Quidditch is. I play all the time during vacations with my brothers."
Periwinkle's eyes glistened and her smile broadened, and she all but stood up and cheered. "Brilliant! Fred and George are such excellent Beaters! Surely you must be good at Quidditch too!"
"Yes—well, erm, no—I'm alright—Periwinkle, who is Marcus and what does this have to do with anything?" I demanded, eager to get a word in. She was still ranting about how, if I play with my brothers, I must be the greatest female player alive.
"Marcus Flint is our team captain for the second year in a row. Hell, we were counting on someone good to turn up in Slytherin, but a Weasley! Merlin, that's a blessing!" she stated confidently, grabbing both my shoulders in a secure grip that I guess was meant to be reassuring.
Suddenly it all made sense: Periwinkle's eagerness at introducing me into the house, her getting all defensive when Draco started in on me, worried that I wouldn't show up to the dorm on time, risking possible detention and house points. It wasn't kindness at all, maybe, but cold, calculated tactics to make me feel as comfortable as possible before handing me over to the team. Like primping up a pig for slaughter. Cunning Slytherin, indeed.
Then I saw a small flaw in her plan. "But, Periwinkle," I commented shyly, innocently, "I'm just a first year. Aren't I not allowed on the team, much less with my own broomstick?"
"Yes, yes, well," she answered, slightly flustered, "last year Potter was made an exception to the rules, as I'm sure you will be, too!"
Hearing Harry's name sent butterflies soaring in my stomach. Ron was always only too keen on discussing Harry's amazing, undeniable, natural-born talent on the broom, saying he was the best Gryffindor Seeker in years. What would I possibly be, compared to him? Blimey, if I fell off my broomstick… "I don't know, Periwinkle, it seems kind of intimi—"
"Don't your worry your first year little brains!" she chimed, waving her wand around and sending vapor Snitches up into the air. "Marcus Flint will have you in top-notch flying shape in no time, you just wait!"
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for reading and following and fave'ing and…just being awesome people in general! Review and tell me what you thought about Periwinkle's "plan" to get on Ginny's good side, please? (: Also just whatever you thought about the chapter, or about the story as a whole, or what should go next…or if you want to tell me about your weekend, that's cool too (:
-TGBW
