A/N I wrote this chapter so many times I've lost count. Don't you just hate it when you can see what to write in the mind's eye, but it doesn't come out like that? That's what happened here... and then I started yet another term of school, too, so that's why this story was on hold for a time.
Disclaimer Harry Potter (c) to the brilliant and most clever J.K. Rowling. Grace Amaura King & Professor Caldwell (c) Takara "Taka" Matsudaira.
Chapter Three – "Mudblood vs. Muggle-born"
Grace entered the Slytherin Dungeon, and slid down the wall as she thought back to earlier.
Grace had zero to no, which was technically still zero, people skills, and absolutely hated anything outside of her comfort zone. She also never liked anything having to do with change, especially change – she absolutely loathed change.
Tom Riddle – also known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who to most of the wizarding population, to people who feared him; Lord Voldemort to himself; and the Dark Lord to his followers – was a prime example of change gone badly, very badly. She wasn't even sure that most people knew his real name, you know, before he changed it.
The brunette hesitated before stopping in her tracks completely, halfway down the corridor as she stood there like an idiot, at a loss of what to do. What was she going to do? She had no idea. See? This was exactly why she preferred the comfort of the shadows that the darkness brought when helping people.
In taking Granger's accidental left behind copy of Advanced Rune Translation from out of her rucksack, Grace ran her index finger along the spine of the tome before she ran her hand over the front cover with a faraway look in her eyes.
She knew she shouldn't open it. It was an invasion of privacy above all if she did, and if anyone knew anything about privacy, it would be Grace. But her curiosity got the better of her and she couldn't help herself: she opened it. Having already read the same material herself, the Slytherin girl merely skimmed through it, not really finding anything of interest, as she knew she wouldn't.
But then she turned the next page.
"Hm? What's this?" Grace asked, eyes narrowing dangerously. A small crumpled up piece of parchment was folded right down the middle and stuck between the pages, its edges jagged. "Sloppy," Grace said, removing it with little to no effort even though it had been roughly shoved between the pages without care. She unfolded it delicately as it was already torn some, careful to avoid anymore tearing so that she'd be able to read it.
Mudblood
Grace stared, long and hard, too appalled by one simple word scrawled on a piece of parchment, to care about anything else, at least not at the moment. "Typical Parkinson," Grace all but sneered out the girl's name. It hadn't been hard to figure out whose writing it was, having graded some of her papers in past detentions and all. She'd recognize Parkinson's sloppy cursive anywhere, though she was surprised that she could read it at all.
Well, duh. No wonder Granger's crying her eyes out, Grace groaned, looking up at the Muggle-born girl in question. She currently had her knees pulled up to her chest as her hair made a veil around her head that was between her knees, back leaning against the wall.
I guess now I at least know why she's crying, but I still really don't want to do this, Grace conceded, frustrated. Merlin's beard! Why's this so damn hard?
Grace groaned, as she leaned her head against the wall and looked up in embarrassment, closing her eyes and unfortunately continued to remember.
She ran a hand through her frizzy hair in frustration in the hopes to relieve some of the stress that she felt, but to no avail. This should be easy, so why wasn't it?
The Seventh Year Slytherin girl groaned before she realized that Granger's sniffling had ceased. She dared to look up, but only to have her eyes widened in horror: the Gryffindor girl shifted from where she sat as her head came out from between her knees.
Grace's flight response immediately kicked in as she turned around and dashed behind the corner of the corridor, literally tripping over her own two feet in the process of getting there. She held her breath in anticipation at the possibility of getting caught as she listened for any sign of Granger investigating, and all the while praying that she wouldn't be discovered.
"H-hello?" asked Granger uncertainly, her voice shaky from crying. "Is anyone there?"
Grace stood there, behind the corner of the corridor, still as a statue, holding her breath as she was much too scared to make a peep, fearing that the bushy-haired girl would surely hear it if she did make any sound, including breathing.
"Who's there? I-I know you're there!" she said louder, sounding much more confident now even though the Slytherin girl knew that not to be true. Grace heard Granger get up. "Show yourself!" Footsteps followed soon after Granger's voice.
As her footsteps grew closer, Grace began to panic. She then dared a glance at where they were coming from and saw the light of a Lumos charm illuminating the dimly lit corridor a good ways up ahead.
Great, Grace thought as she panicked. Now what?
That was when she remembered about the Gryffindor girl's copy of Advanced Rune Translation which she was still holding. She looked down at it, eyes wide and fearful.
Hermione continued down the supposedly abandoned corridor, wand tip alit as it illuminated her path so that she could see where it was she was going, taking it slow and steady so as to not make a sound and startle… the thing off, whatever or whoever it was.
She stopped just short of turning the corner, preparing herself mentally by talking to herself, not out loud of course, but in her own mind. As she was about ready to round the corner, however, something slid down the floor, toward her. It stopped as it hit her foot.
Hermione's head tilted to the side in curiosity.
It was a book.
But not just any book, it was her book.
She remembered that she had dropped it somewhere along the way, but not anywhere near here. So then: how did it get here? Her head instantly snapped in which the direction of the book – her book – had come from in suspicion and confusion, but mostly in suspicion. Her eyes narrowed, as she sharply rounded the corner of the corridor in silence, expecting to see something… someone… there.
But… there was nothing.
Nothing was there. Now Hermione was confused. She could've sworn… but no. It couldn't have been… could it? No, that was highly unlikely – impossible.
She bent down and picked up her book, opening it hesitantly. She flipped pages upon pages and only stopped where she knew the note to be. She stared at it rather curiously, it looked… different somehow. Her eyes widened after opening it.
Don't listen to them, Hermione. You're not what they say.
By the way, you dropped this. Just thought you might like to have it back seeing as it is yours after all.
Salem
Hermione gasped.
"Now look who's the pathetic one," Grace groaned, slapping her forehead with the palm of her hand, too consumed by embarrassment to even realize that she wasn't alone.
"Who?"
A/N Thank you to CarriePlum, Guest and Hopelesslyhope for reviewing the last chapter! I certainly do appreciate all the feedback that you guys give me! And hope that you liked this chapter just as much if not more!
A slightly longer chapter than the last two because I made you guys wait for it. :)
Reviews are much obliged! Flames'll be burnt to a crisp. ^^
