Kit fell asleep shortly after Felix left, leaving Mallory to stare at the white-washed walls of the Hospital Wing. She was itching to do something. Sitting still like this for what felt like hours was torture.
She kept imagining that moment when Kit crashed into the ground.
Fiddling with her wand in one hand, Mallory considered what she might've done differently. Dodging faster wasn't a good answer, since Mallory wasn't a good flier and couldn't steer well. She didn't know how to dodge faster.
There hadn't been enough time to come up with a strategy and tell it to Kit. But if she'd told Kit and Felix to avoid the Slytherins in the first place, that could've helped. Felix wouldn't have dove into the Quidditch match, and—
And Rowle would've found some other excuse to start a fight later. But if the fight had occurred on the ground, then falling out of the sky wouldn't have been a possibility.
Then doors of the Hospital Wing burst open. And Professor McGonagall stormed in, with Snape trailing in behind her. What followed was the twenty most infuriating minutes of her life.
Mallory hadn't told Professor McGonagall about punching Rowle in the nose, or that she knocked the girl's wand out of her hand. Apparently, this was a glaring omission. And Professor McGonagall was very disappointed in Mallory for making her look like a fool in front of Snape.
Snape, that black oozing pile of shite, looked inordinately pleased with himself.
"The next time another student threatens you with a wand, you run and fetch a professor." said Professor McGonagall.
"I'll remind you," spoke the most greasy Professor Snape, "there's no evidence Miss Rowle threatened anyone."
"I wanted to run away," said Mallory, ignoring the prick, "but I couldn't."
"Hogwash." said the aforementioned berk.
"Harper can cast this charm that hovers you in the air by your ankle. If I'd ran, he would've cast it again and I'dve been worse off."
"You have no proof young Mr. Harper knows such a spell." hissed Snape.
"I, for one, have heard many reports of Slytherins casting that spell." said Professor McGonagall, giving the loathsome man a look. "Though hitting another student is never an acceptable course of action."
Snape sneered down at her from above his great greasy beak. "I have half a mind to have you expelled for this."
"Now, Severus, I'm not sure—"
"She's my student, and I'm her Head of House. As it stands, she's a disruptive menace. If I say she ought to be expelled, she'll be expelled. You don't have the authority here."
Mallory's throat burned and her cheeks were hot. "You're playing right into their hands. A bunch of first years are tricking you— this is exactly what Rowle wants."
"You'll do well to be silent, Miss Hopkins." said Professor McGonagall, cheeks tinged red.
The Professor then turned to Snape, "Severus, I'm not saying you don't have that authority, you may do as you like. But it's only the child's first day here."
"Precisely," said Snape, "imagine what she'll be capable of with a Hogwarts education."
"What she'll be capable of?" gaped Professor McGonagall. "You're talking about an eleven year old girl."
"A violent troublemaker who's developed a grudge against several of her classmates, some of whom sleep in the same room with her."
Professor McGonagall bristled. "This conversation is inappropriate to be having in front of a child."
Snape stared at Professor McGonagall as though he wished she would melt.
"Regardless," hissed Snape, "the girl must be punished."
"And I agree with you." Said McGonagall. Mallory's heart sank with betrayal.
"Professor—" said Mallory, voice wavering.
"I'll not hear it, young lady." said the witch, "I spoke to Madame Hooch, and I'm appalled. She said it looked like a war out there, a war. Whatever this grudge is between you and these other children, it stops now."
"It won't stop. They won't stop. They're doing it because I'm mugglebo—"
"That's not an excuse. You keep engaging them, fighting them and making the situation worse." said McGonagall.
And Mallory sat there in stunned silence, swallowing past the lump in her throat. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. McGonagall should've protected her.
"You saw what they did to Felix," Mallory's voice was small and scratchy. "it was six against one. They really wanted to hurt him."
"Mr. Selwyn reports that Mr. Underwood attacked him." spat Snape.
I don't even know who that is! and this isn't fair! warred to escape her mouth. She took a breath and organized her thoughts.
"Six kids attacked him. Six. Hooch blew her whistle and they wouldn't stop. What was I supposed to do, sit there and watch my friend get blasted out of the air?" her voice rose as she spoke, tears blurring her vision.
McGonagall replied. "It's not your responsibility to protect Mr. Underwood, that's the Professor's job."
The words rushed out of Mallory's mouth before she could think. "Then I'll get in the habit of never helping anybody. And one day when I'm an adult, I'll be just like you." she spat. "Unwilling to help anyone because you always expect somebody else handle it."
Snape's lips split into a sinister smile. "Miss Hopkins, I believe you have now earned yourself an expulsion from Hogwarts."
Mallory's face went blank, and her arms felt leaden at her sides.
"Severus," spoke an old wizened man by the entrance to the hospital wing. "perhaps we are being too hasty."
Mallory's head snapped to the door.
Clad in lurid purple-and-green robes, with a long white beard and twinkling eyes, she recognized him from the night before. He was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore.
"Headmaster." said Snape, nodding. He didn't look surprised, only resigned. McGonagall, on the other hand, did look surprised to see him there.
"Albus." said McGonagall, "I didn't realize—"
"Perhaps you and Severus wouldn't mind waiting out in the hall? I would very much like to speak to the young Miss Hopkins." said the Headmaster. Mallory's hands remained at her sides, clammy and cold.
Snape gave Dumbledore an absolutely vicious glare, and stormed out of the hospital, robes flapping behind him. McGonagall followed him out.
A large squishy armchair sprung into existence with a flick of the Headmaster's wand. He sank into it with a sigh.
"I see you've had quite the evening, Miss Hopkins." said Professor Dumbledore.
Most of her was silently screaming with betrayal and rage, but that didn't stop Mallory's mind cranked into gear. Pointy-chin said Dumbledore defended muggleborns.
"First muggleborn in Slytherin and the first to be expelled on her first day of class." croaked Mallory, "I'll be in the record books."
She didn't know if he knew she was a muggleborn before now. She didn't even know if Pointy-chin told the truth. But here was an opportunity to get the Headmaster of Hogwarts on her side. She was taking it.
The Headmaster chuckled. "A fine thing, a sense of humor."
There was a beat of silence, and Headmaster Dumbledore's silences were much worse than Danny's silences.
"I think I'm glad," she said. "that I got expelled. I'm no good at being a witch, and no one wants me here." Mallory looked down at her hands, wand at her side. It was bait, a hook. No one wanted to hear a child so defeated-sounding. It even worked on her parents, and they knew all her tricks.
"The trials one faces here at Hogwarts are not always easy, but are always useful."
Mallory thought for a moment, trying to puzzle out what the Headmaster was saying.
"You think I shouldn't give up." a beat. "And you're going to stop Snape from expelling me."
"Professor Snape, Miss Hopkins." said the Headmaster.
"Right. That." she said. "but I don't know if I want to stay."
The Headmaster folded his hands on his lap, and looked sad. "I see."
"It's not that I don't like magic, or Hogwarts. But I don't feel safe here. And I think the only reason I didn't ask to leave before, was because I didn't want Rowle to win. She wants me to give up, and I want to prove a point to her that muggleborns are just as good as anyone else. But that's not worth breaking bones twice in one day."
"Acting even when you're afraid is a mark of courage, and a choice one must make for themselves, whether or not they're willing to risk their well-being for a cause."
"I'm plenty brave, Headmaster. I knew I'd get my ars— my butt kicked by Rowle today, on the pitch. I did it anyway, because my friend would get hurt worse if I didn't."
"Ah," said the Headmaster, as though what she'd said was deep and enlightening. "I see."
Mallory blinked in confusion.
"A great many Gryffindors would applaud what you did this day, Miss Hopkins." said the Headmaster. "Fighting evil has long been the mission of many a champion. But there is more than one way to fight evil, and the wise know that to strike your enemy down is false victory. Better to treat them with kindness and patience, to turn them into an ally if you can."
Evil? She wouldn't go as far as all that.
"Yes, Professor. But I— " speaking back to the Headmaster of Hogwarts was probably a terrible idea. "I don't think they want to be my friends."
Mallory was very confused. If she understood him straight, he was saying she wasn't brave. Then in his next breath saying she was, but not in the way he wanted her to be?
"The path of the righteous is fraught with difficulties, Miss Hopkins. I suggest against giving up before you've even started."
"Yes, Professor."
"Though," the Headmaster lowered his head and stared at her with his bright blue eyes. "I hear a different story from the young Miss Rowle and her compatriots. I would like to hear your own."
Mallory looked down at her lap for a moment, sucking in a deep breath and letting it go. If the Headmaster believed her, he might expel Rowle and Harper. And if Rowle and Harper were busy in detention or otherwise out of the game, Hogwarts would be wonderful.
"Miss Hopkins?" said the Headmaster, and Mallory looked up.
"It started last night. I told them I was a muggleborn, and they dangled me upside down in the common room and fired hexes at me. Today Rowle, Harper, and Montague burnt my trunk and all my things."
"Rowle baited me, so I punched her." The part of Mallory that operated under a silent rule that you never ever tell a Professor you punched another student cringed. "They smacked me so hard into the wall that they cracked my skull open. The whole time, since last night, they've been telling me that if I don't leave Hogwarts, they'll hurt me more and have me expelled.
"And what occurred then at the Quidditch pitch?"
"I made friends with Felix and Kit, and we were playing tag. Felix cut through the Slytherin quidditch match, and this— er, I dunno his name." She couldn't tell Headmaster Dumbledore that she called him Dead-Eyes and that Kit joked that he looked like a young Hannibal Lector.
"I think you're referring to the young Mr. Roderick Selwyn."
The name wasn't familiar to her. "Sure. Then, he and a few others, Rowle, Montague, the girl with the coke-bottle glasses, Harper— they all started casting spells at Felix. Madame Hooch whistled, but they wouldn't stop, and Felix was going to get hurt."
"I believe you mean Miss Vaisey, the young witch with the glasses you described," corrected Professor Dumbledore, before he went on to say, "I have heard a very different tale from the other Slytherins."
There was silence, and Mallory tried not to fidget.
"They all have the same story." Mallory said. Said, not asked, because she knew getting their story straight was the first thing they'd do. It was the first thing she would do, after all.
"Indeed. Though the young Miss Jennings and Mr. Underwood have told me stories that sound remarkably similar to your own."
Right. So it was a classic he-said versus she-said. Only the Slytherin bullies far outnumbered Mallory and her friends.
"Then who do you believe, Headmaster?"
"Ah, it is not a matter of belief, but what action will prevent such fights from occurring again." said the Headmaster.
"That's what I want, too, Headmaster." she lied, "I want them to stop."
It might be easier for a professor to punish all the students involved, but it would only make it worse for Mallory. If Kit and Felix got detentions, they might blame her.
And then the bullies wouldn't believe the professors wanted to protect her. Further, they'd know Mallory had to weigh her decision to act against getting more detentions. If anything, it'd embolden them.
But if Dumbledore only punished the bullies, that gave Mallory a threat to use against them.
"This conversation is not about them, Miss Hopkins, but about you."
Mallory's fingers curled into fists in the hospital bed blankets. "I was only acting to defend my friends. Don't— do you want me to grow up to be the sort of girl who does nothing while her friends get hurt?"
The Headmaster frowned. "I would not wish that upon anyone, young Miss Hopkins, and I do not believe that is your fate. I only ask that you exercise the caution that House Slytherin is known for in your endeavors."
Mallory wasn't sure what to say to that. "I don't think I'm much of a Slytherin."
"I fear the Sorting Hat disagrees with you."
Mallory swallowed. "so I can't get my house changed?"
"Ah, no."
"Right," Mallory wiped her cheeks, "so, Kit and Felix aren't in trouble, are they? Kit, I mean, she was following my lead. And Felix had nothing to do with any of it."
She wasn't being kind. Mallory knew them for only a day, and didn't want them to resent her for getting them into trouble. She hadn't thought of that earlier, when she told Felix and Kit that they were attacked on account of her.
Mallory desperately didn't want more enemies. And any allies she made at this point were worth their weight in gold.
"The young Mr. Underwood asserts that he flew through the match on purpose, though not with the intention of injuring any of the participants, and that Slytherin students began firing on him. He also stated that Miss Jennings forced you to help her." said Professor Dumbledore.
Mallory scrunched her face in confusion. What on earth possessed Felix to give the Headmaster that story. It didn't make any of them look good.
"Then Professor Sprout interviewed young Miss Jennings," continued the Headmaster, "who stated that Felix lost control of his broom, and that the Slytherin students fired on him, so the both of you rushed to the defense of your friend."
"I wasn't made to do anything." said Mallory. It was worse than she thought. All of them had given the Professor different stories, which would make them all look like liars.
She thought back to what the twins said before, about McGonagall attempting to comfort her instead of telling her the truth. Professor Dumbledore didn't believe her, Mallory thought, he just didn't want to upset the injured child.
"I see. Well, the young Slytherins, besides yourself, all contest that Mr. Underwood was attempting to unseat Mr. Selwyn from his broom, and that they responded in self-defense."
"They're lying." said Mallory.
"That is possible, or perhaps they believe the young Mr. Underwood was attacking them, and responded in kind. Regardless, as Headmaster of Hogwarts, I cannot condone fighting, especially not while aloft. Duelling on broomsticks is exceptionally dangerous."
That, she thought, was a cop-out. Six students firing on one didn't mesh well with the situation.
"But all six firing on Felix at once? Right away? You don't think that's weird?"
"Indeed, that is a good point, Miss Hopkins. However, the students did not confer with one another on who ought to be the one to defend young Mr. Selwyn. In their zeal, they all acted."
Mallory thought that was utter bullshit. Last time the Turner twins started shit, no one stepped up to help them. It was like how no one saved her, last night. Or that time a teacher in elementary school collapsed. Mallory and every other student stood there frozen.
They all hoped someone else would take action, first.
"I think they planned it." Mallory said.
Felix flew by Dead-Eyes, and there wasn't even a moment of hesitation before they fired.
In Mallory's mind that suggested premeditation.
The question was why. Not why did they want to fire at Mallory's friends but why would they do it within range of a teacher.
Because they knew they could get away with it, somehow. They knew Mallory would be punished, and they wouldn't. Why? How?
The Headmaster looked at her with sad eyes. "I would pray you not believe the worst in your classmates, just as I choose not to believe the worst in you."
At that, Mallory felt very uncomfortable. It was becoming a pattern. Felix believed Mallory had sinister intentions. Snape thought she was a danger to her classmates, and now Dumbledore was saying he could believe the worst of her.
She didn't understand. How did two authority figures come to the same conclusion that a victim of bullying is a bad person? It was the first day of school.
But then- Snape was some sort of pureblood fanatic and he wanted her gone. Dumbledore… perhaps Snape spoke to Dumbledore? Maybe it wasn't an independent assessment.
Though that didn't explain Felix. Maybe he just didn't like any Slytherins, and Mallory was taking it personally?
"Ah, I almost forgot." said Professor Dumbledore, interrupting her train of thought. "One Mr. Colin Creevey in the company of Mr. Fred and Mr. George Weasley stopped me in the hallway this afternoon. They wished to inform me that your classmates were being most unkind to you, and that they were worried something might've happened. It seems you're amassing quite a collection of loyal friends, Miss Hopkins. Do treat them well."
Mallory then remembered that she had told Colin she'd meet him after class, then never showed. Rowle setting her trunk on fire was bloody inconvenient.
"I will." she said, narrowing her eyes. Snape had definitely spoken to Headmaster Dumbledore about her. That was why he wasn't surprised when the Headmaster showed up. But then why did he still try to expel her? He'd looked resigned when the Headmaster told him to tone it down, so he must've known how the Headmaster would react. Maybe he was proving a point?
A threat.
"Now, I believe we need to discuss your punishment. Professor Snape thinks expulsion is the proper course of action, but I believe in second chances. And perhaps, in giving you a second chance you may pass it on to your classmates. A week's worth of detention, I think, would do it." The Headmaster stood. "And of course, for your friends, as well."
"What?" Mallory gaped, "but that's not—"
"Naturally," he continued, "you and the rest of the slytherin first-years as well as Ms. Jennings and Mr. Underwood have lost your flying privileges. You will be sitting out the next two flying classes. Perhaps by then you'll have worked out your differences."
Mallory wanted to scream. "Felix didn't do anything!"
"Perhaps, but six students have reported how Mr. Underwood dove straight at Mr. Selwyn, and even you and Miss Jennings don't deny that he flew into the match."
"Then give me detention for two weeks and make theirs for half a week." she said, "it wasn't their fault. They got caught up in my mess."
"Then next time you will consider your friends before you engage in violence."
Mallory wanted to say that Kit would've dive-bombed Montague anyway, but that wouldn't help Kit or Mallory. She clenched her fists and stewed.
"What's happening to Rowle and the others?" she asked instead.
"It's not your concern what happens to them." said the Headmaster. "Now I believe you are meant to rest. Goodnight, Miss Hopkins."
And with that, Dumbledore stood up, vanished his chair, and left the Hospital Wing.
Mallory eyed the door, waiting for McGonagall and Snape to re-appear, but they didn't.
She wanted Danny.
She wanted her friend's mind here with her, to bounce ideas off of— she missed the team they made. He'd know what to do.
As she fell asleep, exhausted, Mallory's mind skittered over the images of wands pointed at Felix, Kit's horrified face as she hit the ground, and the sensation of falling backwards off her broom.
Shock blasted through her and Mallory gasped— only to suck in water and heave it out, choking and spluttering. She panicked for a moment, submerged in water, only to feel ground below her and kick up, bursting through to the surface, coughing and sucking in great gulps of air.
Blinking water out of her eyes, the first thing she thought was how Madame Pomfrey was going to kill her. Mallory Hopkins was no longer in the Hospital Wing, she was in the Black Lake.
The water rose choppily around her, as she paddled. Was this someone's attempt at drowning her? It was the middle of the night, sky black as pitch.
Then she heard more splashes and spun around, teeth chattering. Four other people had been dumped into the lake. The culprits were on the shore, wearing hooded black cloaks. Where their faces should've been, there was only empty space. She shuddered.
Keeping the Hooded Figures in her peripheral vision, she glanced around, orienting herself.
It was worse than she thought.
They were on the opposite side of the shore, looking across the lake at Hogwarts. The lights were lit in the castle, scattering glimmering reflections across the lake.
The four people who'd been dropped in broke to the surface, kicking and screaming. Mallory expected to see the other muggleborns.
She was wrong.
Rowle, Harper, and the rest of the Slytherin first years were all treading water. She wasn't sure whether she ought to feel relieved, or more alarmed. What was going on?
The rest of the first years were yelping, coughing and cursing, spitting outraged cries towards the shore, where a group of tall hooded figures stood.
"Out!" one of the hooded figures shouted, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like a Slytherin prefect's.
"Get out of the water now! Don't make us come get you!"
Mallory considered swimming in the opposite direction towards the castle. But the water was freezing and now that she was waking up, she noticed how most of the other first years didn't seem too alarmed.
A hazing ritual, her mind supplied.
And so she paddled toward the shore, with its stupid hooded figures and looming forest. The rest of the Slytherins followed, sopping wet in their nightclothes and barefoot. Mallory was no better off, in her hospital gown. Her ankle, thank the heavens, was entirely healed.
Eight first-years followed a pack of hooded figures deep into the forest. Barefoot with their nightclothes sticking in uncomfortable places, they made a sorry bunch. Mallory's legs were caked in mud, and kelp was sticking out of Rowle's hair. They all smelled like lake water, rank and foul.
The tall hooded figures lit their wands like torches, and they winded through the trees. She pegged them as sixth or seventh years. Smaller hooded figures marched alongside the line of first years, to prevent them from running away.
Through gnarled branches and creaking trees they went, with only faint wand light to guide them.
Mallory would've been lying if she said she wasn't afraid. She knew she ought to be worried about where they were taking her, this deep in the forest. Except keeping her footing was taking up all her attention.
Bare feet crunched leaves as she picked her way across the soggy ground. Sticks, brambles, and pine cones laid in wait for her to trip over them.
She hunched over and kept her eyes on the path in front of her, hands shoved in her armpits for warmth. It was freezing out, bloody British weather.
Soon, past gaps in the branches, Mallory could see the flickering of firelight. And the path, which had so far angled upwards, was leveling out to flat, hard ground.
The trees gave way to a circular clearing, with a crowd of hooded figures lying in wait. Oh, she was definitely regretting not swimming away. A large bonfire was lit in the middle.
Some part of Mallory's mind imagined them tossing her into the flames. Her steps faltered.
She was shoved forward by her Hooded Figure, and stumbled into the clearing.
They formed a loose semicircle around the fire. Mallory stood next to Rowle and Hoop-boy, shivering. Her dripping hair curled at the nape of her neck, narrow eyes glinting in the fire.
Light illuminated the faces around her. Their expressions were tight, eyes wide open. Fear.
Mallory's eyes flicked to the hooded figures, talking among one another. Something in the tone of conversation, in the lilt of their voices, spoke of a wild sort of anticipation.
Mallory's gut clenched, and she shuffled from foot to foot. Couldn't stand waiting, not with this kind of energy choking the air.
One Hooded Figure stepped forward, and all conversation stopped. The night became deathly still, but for the crackling of the fire.
Mallory's hairs stood on end.
The crowd's attention was fixated on that one person, cloaked in black.
Any second now, they'd start talking. But they didn't. Mallory's eyes flicked across the crowd of hooded figures and first years. All eyes were on the figure, but some people were starting to look at one another. Fidgeting.
One girl stood hugging herself, Coke-bottles clutching her arm in what must've been a painful grip.
The Hooded Figure flourished its wand at the bonfire. And it exploded into green flames.
Wand still raised, the Figure spoke. "Today was your first full day as proper witches and wizards." Female voice, familiar.
She walked slowly as she spoke, her gait smooth and unhurried. At ease with the setting, with the barely-constrained violence of the circle.
Her voice was soft, and Mallory had to strain to hear her.
"But more importantly," said the Hooded Figure, "tonight is the night you are welcomed as members of the Most Ancient and Exalted Slytherin House."
Now that she heard that quiet voice twice, Mallory recognized it. The prefect, Gemma Farley.
"For one-thousand-and-two years, Slytherin House has stood as a beacon of nobility and prestige. And now, that mantle falls to you."
Another Hooded Figure stood forward, "This is a heavy weight you must bear, and bear it you shall. For the traditions and secrets of our ancestors are fading. Much has been lost in the thousand years since Hogwarts was raised."
Farley spoke again. "We are the few, the powerful, the last bulwark against a rising sea of ignorance."
"But you," said the other Hooded Figure, "you are the lowliest of us, feeble-minded and foolish."
Rowle visibly twitched next to Mallory. She looked as though she'd love to smack that hooded figure across his face.
"In your homes and outside House Slytherin, you may be revered and loved for your ancestry and your might. But among us, you are the lowliest of the low. Of the secrets of House Slytherin, you know nothing."
"Of the ancient artifacts passed down from Slytherin to Slytherin, you know nothing."
"Of the secrets and mysteries of Slytherin House, you know nothing."
They were switching back and forth, and the effect was mesmerizing. Mallory wondered how many times they practiced to get down the eerie echo and timing right.
The male's voice was loud and bombastic, which contrasted well with Farley's quieter tone. Mallory couldn't help but get caught up in the rhythm of it.
The crowd of hooded figures were standing straighter. Their words were having an effect. Something was growing here, in this circle. Something magic. She could feel pins and needles crawling up her spine, the taste of iron in her mouth.
Standing straight but unable to stand still, wands twitching in their hands with half-aborted spell movements. This was a crowd that wanted blood.
The faces of her fellow first years reflected her own fears. Their wide eyes were flicking around the clearing. Looking for an opportunity to run. Prey.
"But this," spoke Farley, strong and sibilant, "this is why we're here. To train you, to guide and shape you into suitable representatives of our House."
"Every first year will be assigned a mentor from the second year Slytherins. If they order you to do something, you do it. I do not concern myself with the particulars of their orders. If they bid you to shine their shoes like a house-elf, you are to do it."
"However," said Farley, "should I find that you mentors are abusing your position, you will be punished."
But there was a good chance that the seventh years wouldn't give a shite when Mallory complained to them. Those same prefects were in the common room when her year-mates dangled her upside down and cursed her.
"Harper!" called the male Hooded Figure.
The fidgeting and twitching of the crowd ceased. Utter stillness. Mallory's breath caught in her throat. This was it, something was about to happen.
"Yes, sir." Harper's voice came out as a squeak, eyes so wide open the whites were showing.
"Your mother committed a most dishonorable betrayal to our cause." His voice was sharp and cold.
"Yes, sir." But Harper said it like it was a question.
"She taught you levicorpus, a Slytherin spell, which must not be taught to outsiders."
Mallory didn't know what a Slytherin spell was, but 'corpus' sounded like 'corpse,' and she knew the word 'corpse' just meant 'body.' She also recognized 'levi,' as it could be found in the word 'levitate.' Just last night Harper used a spell to dangle her by her ankle in the air. Levitate body. That wasn't a coincidence.
"Yes, sir." He had tried to show off, except now it was backfiring.
The crowd of hooded figures erupted into low mutters and angry whispers.
"Had you not been sorted into Slytherin, one more secret of our Sacred House would be lost to the masses. Are you ashamed?"
"Yes, sir." Harper sounded angry, and his face was scrunched up as though he were fighting constipation. It was hard for Mallory to catch his expression, with the eerie green light from the flames, distorting the view.
"You just revealed that your mother broke the rules of Slytherin, showing yourself not only a traitor, but stupid as well. Are you ashamed?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tell everyone why you're ashamed."
"Be-because I'm stupid."
"And why else?"
"Because my mother betrayed Slytherin." He didn't sound convincing.
Mallory had to admit to herself, that she was almost enjoying this. A large part of her whispered how it was very wrong to enjoy shaming Harper, and that publicly humiliating him was mean, but she thought the leaky arsehole deserved it.
"Say it again, and louder."
"I'm stupid and my mother is a traitor."
"Again!"
"I'm stupid and my mother is a traitor!" Harper shouted, voice wobbling like he wanted to cry. Oh, she did feel bad now. Though coupled with that was revulsion. She felt sorry for Harper. Surely hell was freezing over.
"All right, all of you, line up!" said the Hooded Figure.
They formed a line in place, with Harper at the front, facing them.
"Many of you," said Farley, "know spells. Curses, hexes, and jinxes. I want you to cast the strongest spell you know at Harper. He is to be shamed. Do you understand?"
The initiates nodded. But Mallory was at war with herself. What sort of test was this? In books, there was always the brave hero who refused to punch the victim. But that'd be a test for Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs. This was the house of cunning. What was the clever thing to do, here? Moreover, there were a hundred ways to embarrass Harper, why this one?
"And Harper, you're not to move from this spot." said the male Hooded Figure. "If they cast the killing curse at you, you stand there and take it."
Farley placed a hand on the male hooded figure's shoulder, and said "Things as they are, any permanent curses or unforgiveables will risk your standing with the school. Not that we believe you capable of casting such spells, but if you can, restrain yourself."
A second thought occurred to her. None of them had their wands. How were they supposed to cast jinxes without wands? A rising panic struck her in the throat. Mallory could light small fires and levitate objects for a short period of time, but that only worked if she concentrated for a while. She didn't know any real wandless magic.
Then a Hooded Figure stepped up, and withdrew a clutch of wands. Oh.
They were giving them their wands back.
The smaller hooded figures, her future mentors, were muttering among themselves, and Mallory was able to pick on words like "wager" and "money's on—." This was their entertainment.
Roderick Selwyn, the one she called Dead-Eyes, went first.
He took his wand from the Hooded Figure, and flourished it at Harper, who flinched.
Selwyn laughed, and it was a cold sound. The Slytherin first years inched backwards away from the lunatic boy, who stood two meters away from the terrified face of Harper. Green light exaggerated the pall in Harper's expression.
Or maybe, thought Mallory, he was just that afraid.
"Baubillious!" shouted Selwyn. A yellow bolt of lightning spat out of his wand and struck Harper, who screamed. Selwyn giggled with delight.
Mallory winced. She knew that spell. It was the one Rowle used on her during the Battle on the Pitch. It caused a sharp burst of pain, like you were being electrocuted.
Harper trembled in place, and Selwyn swaggered to the back of the line. There was something bent in that boy's head.
Next was Montague, wearing a grim look about him.
"Everte Statum." he intoned, flicking her wand in the prescribed pattern.
Nothing happened. Montague looked up at the Hooded Figure, eyes wide with a sort of horror on his face that could only be described as a cross between mortification and mortal terror.
"Try again." said the Hooded Figure.
The boy nodded and cast the spell once more.
"Everte Statum!"
No one spoke, for he had failed again. The initates tensed in anticipation. Surely something terrible would befall him, the boy who failed the test.
"For the rest of this night," said the Hooded Figure, "you must kneel."
Montague nodded, and looked relieved. He knelt on the ground, which was covered in leaves and pinecones.
"Now go to the end of the line." It was obvious when Montague realized he'd have to shuffle past all six first years on his knees. His cheeks colored and eyes teared. Mallory gave him a little mocking grin as he shuffled past her. That was two of her tormenters, embarrassed in front of all the second, seventh, and first year Slytherins. The hooded figures were doing her work for her.
Coke-bottles was up next, and she marched up to Harper like she was on a mission. Armed with her wand, she fired her spell.
"Diffindo!"
It was as though a blade slashed through the air and sliced open Harper's cheek. The boy doubled over, clutching his bleeding face. A few hooded figures in the crowd whistled and cheered. First blood.
Mallory's hands grew clammy at her sides. The part of her that found this whole event awful screamed. It wasn't funny anymore.
Next was a girl Mallory didn't know. She had long brown hair bound in a messy braid, and a nervous disposition.
She was shaking, and looked like she was about to burst into tears at any second.
"S-scourgify!" she said, and her spell did nothing. The girl let out a little gasp, eyes wide as saucers, and cast again.
"Scourgify!" It worked. Or at least, Mallory assumed it did, because everyone but her started giggling and the hooded figures gestured that the girl should go to the back of the line.
Hoop-boy went next. And he didn't even look at Harper when he cast. Instead, he flashed a sly smile at Selwyn and cast locomotor mortis.
Harper's legs snapped together and he fell over backwards with surprised oof! Several people giggled.
From that interaction, it wasn't hard to guess that Selwyn and Hoop-boy were enemies. Hoop-boy fired on Dead-Eyed Selwyn before, during the Battle on the Pitch. While casting the jinx at Harper, Hoop-boy looked at Selwyn, mocking him. Reminding him.
Darla Rowle gave Harper a bland smile, and fired "Alarte Ascendare!"
The spell made a loud bang! and Harper shot about a meter into the air, before falling to the ground with a heavy thud.
He groaned from his spot on the ground.
And then it was Mallory's turn.
The hero Mallory wanted to be would've refused to cast any spell. She would've stood there and said no, calmly and clearly so everyone could hear her. But every other first year attempted to cast a spell at Harper. She'd be the odd one out.
The silence grew as Mallory hesitated. They wouldn't think she was brave, they'd think her stupid. It'd make her look weak, like a victim they could kick around. Her fallback plans were limited to the long-shot with the muggleborn club and the twins. The professors weren't going to help her. And she knew she couldn't take a full week of being beaten down like today.
So Mallory made a decision.
"Incendio!" she cast, pouring her will into the spell.
Harper yelped when the spell caught his pajamas on fire, and immediately started rolling around on the ground. The flames spluttered out almost immediately.
Mallory expected to feel gratification, or a sliver of rightous justice at getting to punish her hated foe. But all she felt was shame.
The Hooded Figure nodded, and Mallory went to the back of the line. She didn't pay any attention to the faces of her fellow initiates as she walked to the back.
It was wrong to cast that spell at Harper, she knew. More wrong than gluing Robbie Turner's shoes to his desk, and then stuffing them with sheep shit. But Mallory could imagine the sequence of events that would follow her refusal to participate. They wouldn't have the students line up to jinx her, they'd do something worse. Defection had to be punished harshly to prevent anyone else from following in her example.
But Mallory didn't want their acceptance. That was harder to remember, while she was going through the initation ritual. And it occurred to her that maybe that was the reason for all the pomp and ceremony. It was to make the young students think Slytherin House was worth getting getting jinxed over.
It wasn't. It really wasn't.
And it was as though some part of Mallory knew in advance, because she wasn't surprised when the hooded figure called her name next.