Disclaimer: See prologue.

Unworthy Slytherin

Chapter One

The full moon slightly chipped
That's so me
So please
Save me and hold me tight
Just make me all right

~The Full Moon Slightly Chipped, Yuuca

September 1996

Ashlyn walked inside King's Cross Station, looking upward for Platforms 9 and 10. She centered herself between the two platforms and briskly walked headlong into the wall. The familiar whooshing feeling alerted her to her presence on Platform 9 ¾. Ashlyn glanced at the bright red train, just as magnificent as ever.

Ashlyn had mixed feelings about going back to Hogwarts. She loved magic with all her heart, but with Le Feuvre there…well, it was still worth it. She was sick and tired of her home life anyway. Her parents had gotten divorced during her second year. Her mum just couldn't take Ashlyn being a witch. So now she stayed with her dad and his girlfriend. Ashlyn couldn't stand the woman. She treated Ashlyn like she was six and was only interested in her dad because of his money. Yes, Ashlyn was glad to be going back to Hogwarts.

Ashlyn lugged her trunk onto the train, trying to find an empty compartment. It wasn't like she could sit with her friends-she didn't have any. Her own House looked at her with disdain and none of the other Houses wouldn't dare associate with a Slytherin, no matter how much the Slytherins hated her. Basically she was the outcast of the school. No one cared.

Finally after much searching, she found one at the very end of the train. Ashlyn pulled out one of her favorite childhood books, Lily's Crossing. She only read for about an hour before her eyes began to sag with sleepiness. She had gotten up very early to pack her trunk. Perhaps a small nap would do her some good.

Ashlyn was woken from her quiet slumber by the sound of the sliding glass door and voices.

"Oh, look. The mudblood decided to come back."

Ashlyn recognized the high nasally tone. The owner of said voice was Scotia Rukin, a fellow Slytherin fifth year. It was because of her and her roommate cronies that Ashlyn couldn't hide out in the girls' dormitory from Le Feuvre.

Ashlyn opened her eyes. Oh, crap she thought. There standing in the doorway, blocking her only escape, were Le Feuvre and Rukin. Just behind them stood Alekzander Leatherby and James Clayworth, Le Feuvre's right-hand men.

"Interesting," said Le Feuvre. "I thought that she would have killed herself by now. Pity, she would have done the whole school a favor."

"What do you want, Le Feuvre?" Ashlyn asked, not meeting his eyes.

"You know, I thought you'd have learned some manners by now, Parker," he sneered at her. "Don't you know you should rise when someone of higher rank enters the room? But being the brainless mudblood you are, what can you expect?"

"I'll rise when someone worthy of rising for enters the room," Ashlyn whispered, more to herself then Beckett.

Suddenly she felt being grabbed by her shirt and shoved against the window.

"Want to repeat that, bitch?" Beckett snarled at her.

Ashlyn was frozen with fear. She couldn't move even though she was begging her body to wriggle out of his grasp.

Beckett looked different this year. Ashlyn saw through his tight shirt the muscles he had probably developed over the summer. He had also grown taller, maybe three inches if she remembered correctly. His eyes gleamed with a new malice, one even more vicious then before. But there was something else-pleasure. He was enjoying her torture. I'm just a toy to him, Ashlyn thought. And it doesn't matter if I break, I'm dispensable and no one will care.

Ashlyn was brought out of her reverie as Le Feuvre backhanded her. Obviously he had grown tired of her quietness. Ashlyn fell to the ground with a thud her long auburn hair shielding her face. She lifted her fingers to her mouth and felt the blood from her busted lower lip. Ashlyn didn't have much time to dwell on this fact before she felt Le Feuvre's foot colliding with her shoulder, forcing her to roll onto her back. Hair out of her face, Ashlyn looked up to see Le Feuvre placing his foot over her chest, like an explorer would when he discovered new land. He smirked as he slowly applied more and more pressure on her chest, squeezing the air out of her. Ashlyn could hardly breathe, let alone get enough oxygen to speak, to cry out for help.

A sickening crack filled the compartment and Ashlyn knew that at least one of her ribs were broken. She thought Beckett had had his fill of fun, but she was wrong. Le Feuvre continued to apply pressure to her broken ribcage. Tears were streaming down Ashlyn's face. She had been on the receiving end of Le Feuvre's torture more times then she could count, but this…this was a new experience. She'd had beatings and had crucio cast upon her once or twice but they weren't so bad, not really. But her lips were starting to turn blue, she couldn't breathe. And she came to the conclusion-

She was going to die.

But just as she lost all hope, Rukin spoke up,

"Beckett, don't kill her!"

Le Feuvre looked over to her and began to release the pressure off of Ashlyn's ribs. When she could finally breathe again, her breaths came in huge gasps. But she quickly stopped when it felt like something was going to pop out of her skin. She strained to make her breaths shallower. She watched in horror as Rukin reached into her robes, and pulled out a silver blade.

"I want to have some time with the stupid shit myself and it won't be any fun if she's already dead."

Faster than she could react, Rukin had cast a quick body binding spell and Ashlyn could no longer move any part of her body.

Scotia walked over to the bound girl, her tall figure looming over Ashlyn. Scotia grabbed Ashlyn's arm roughly and pulled her sleeve up. Ashlyn braced herself for the pain that was to come.

The cool blade dug into her flesh and began to ooze crimson blood.

"Well, I guess her blood isn't mud after all." Ashlyn recognized the voice as Leatherby's. "Doesn't mean she's not a worthless piece of shit, though."

Rukin's knife continued to slice across her forearm in complicated and twisted patterns that Ashlyn couldn't decipher. She was starting to feel the effects of her blood loss. Her skin had turned ghostly white and her head spun. She could barely keep her eyes open. She was so tired…

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Beckett spoke

"I think we've made our point gentlemen, lady." Le Feuvre walked over to Ashlyn who was lying very still on the floor. He crouched down and whispered in her ear, "This is only the beginning, mudblood. I've grown impatient with your presence. It would be most beneficial to your ah…personal wellbeing if you were to return back to London tonight." He stood up and motioned for the rest of them to follow.

Ashlyn was finally alone. She forced her eyes open and gasped at what she saw. On her right arm the word Mudblood was carved into her skin. Ashlyn knew that the wound would leave a scar and stay with her forever. But what surprised her even more were the words on the other arm. She hadn't even felt that. Both Scotia and Beckett's names were cut into her arm.

Ashlyn couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. She felt the pull of unconsciousness. And right before she was released into that sweet abyss, Le Feuvre's words echoed in her ears:

"This is only the beginning."