The rest of Slytherin table was in a state of massive fuss over one student in particular at the moment, and it was getting to be rather annoying. She wouldn't necessarily have minded, but the name on everybody's lips was 'Harry Potter' – not, as it should have been, 'Pansy Parkinson'. The Parkinsons had been attending Hogwarts as members of Slytherin house for years, and as far as she was concerned, this combined with her well-groomed appearance and pure, pure blood qualified her to be one of the most powerful students in her year.
'Honestly,' she said, lips pressed together firmly in an unpleasant pout, 'I couldn't give two bits of frog-spit whether Potter's here or not. It's not as though he'll be anything special.'
'Grew up with muggles, I heard,' chipped in Daphne Greengrass, who'd been in her compartment on the train – her and Pansy's parents had ushered them together, which led Pansy to believe it was probably best to befriend her. Contacts were contacts, especially pureblood ones, and she hadn't proven to be too bad so far. 'I bet he's just like the rest of us.'
'Worse,' Pansy suggested, smirking back at Draco Malfoy, who seemed to approve. The Malfoys were well worth getting involved with, too. As far as she'd seen so far, their son seemed exactly the type of person she liked anyway. 'Nobody knows what that spell did to him; maybe it wasn't nothing at all. He might have less brain cells than we do, for all we know.' Daphne sniggered, and to Pansy's delight she wasn't the only one. Pleased she'd dragged back some of the spotlight, she pressed on. 'We should take bets for how long it takes him to set fire to his robes.'
'First chance he gets,' drawled Draco. 'And seeing him do it would be return enough on the money. Seen who he's sitting with?'
Pansy hadn't. She turned to look at the Gryffindor table again, smirking as she caught sight of the familiar mass of ginger hair. Though her family only chose to associate with the very best of the pureblood families, it didn't mean she didn't know how to recognise the others. 'A Weasley. Maybe if they put their heads together they'll be able to afford a decent idea.'
Draco and the two blocks of meat he'd already surrounded himself with chuckled; he grinned wickedly in agreement, and Pansy could see that he'd connected the Slytherins' general dislike for Potter with his ability to make friends. He could utilise it just as she could. Enjoying the idea of having something in common with him, she sent back the same smile as he spoke again.
'Maybe.'
