A/N: Good evening fellow readers! I am very sorry that this was not posted yesterday but hopefully my content (and blimey it is A LOT of content- for me at least) makes up for any bad feelings caused. If I had to sum up this chapter in a few words I'd say: embarrassment, mission, revelations and confidantes. I also introduce a few more to the family annnnd thank y'all for reading/reviewing/favouriting/being awesome . Hope you enjoy! :)
The next day had started off pretty crappy. I may have just knocked Queen Vee off of her pedestal temporarily but that didn't mean I wasn't waist-deep in trouble. After my showdown with the blon- green-haired- witch, I'd hurried to my room and practically collapsed onto my bed. Obviously my upheaval in emotions had triggered literal exhaustion as I slept solidly until I was woken by my alarm at 7am. After I'd battled the bleeping thing, I'd had a row with Diamond and Olivia- taking out some residual frustration on them both from yesterday. I'd felt super guilty when Diamond had spat out how she'd been escorting Olivia down to the infirmary because she'd felt sick. I'd tried apologising but Diamond was (rightfully) pissed at me for throwing our friendship in their faces and going on and on about how they're 'never there for me' and other irritable slurs. My shower had turned ice-cold when I was lathering up. And at breakfast Nick had been chirpily congratulating me for 'putting Vanessa in her place' while I avoided the glare I was receiving from Diamond. Olivia was looking sadly down at her orange juice and I couldn't help but wonder if she's sad that I fell out with Diamond (and by consequence her)this morning, or feeling homesick. I scarfed down my jammy toast and drunk my goblet of pumpkin juice in four swift mouthfuls. I don't hear Nick crack a joke about my appetite. Nor am I aware that Vanessa and Ashley are still seeking hair-care from Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary (as Adelaide proclaims to our table). All I see and care about is the blood-red envelope that's dropped in front of me from the barrage of incriminating object starts to smoke and I gulp. "Oh shit." I mutter, weakly.
The envelope bursts into flames and from the ashes a letter floats magically above. It crumples itself into the shape of a paper mouth and I hardly feel Nick squeezing my hand in his, attuned to my concern. The paper mouth widens and I prepare for the worst. The sound of my father Ron Weasley amplifies across the dining hall and in the brief moment when I'm acutely aware of the attention I'm getting again, I have time to think: Wow, by this rate, I'm swiftly becoming the most well-known person at Hogwarts. Sadly, thats all I have time to think before-
"ROSE MINERVA WEASLEY! HOW ON EARTH WERE YOU SORTED INTO SLYTHERIN. IF THIS IS A PRANK I SWEAR THAT YOU ARE IN BIG TROUBLE MISSY." Background noise of faint protests of my mother and Hugo filter through but it is overridden by the next part of my father's speech. "HOWEVER IF THIS IS NOT A PRANK- WELL, UH, BLOODY HELL HERMIONE WOULD'YA LET ME SPEAK TO ROSIE FOR A MINUTE-" Hermione's gentler voice echoes across the room when she says: "ROSE SWEETIE, IT'S OK IF YOU REALLY WERE SORTED SLYTHERIN. ME AND YOUR FATHER UNDERSTAND THAT IT'S NOT ALWAYS EASY STARTING SCHOOL AND WE KNOW YOU'LL DO YOUR BEST NO MATTER WHICH HOUSE-" Ron's bellows drown out the rest of my mother's, undoubtedly sweeter, speech: "I HAVE HALF A MIND TO GO UP THERE MYSELF AND FIX THE SORTING HAT. PERHAPS ALL THOSE CENTURIES ARE FINALLY CATCHING UP WITH THE BARMY THING-" "RON!" "SORRY, LOVE. UM I GUESS I'LL GO NOW. WE'VE TOLD THE REST OF THE FAMILY AND EVERYONE'S SURPRISED...EXCEPT YOUR UNCLE CHARLIE, THAT IS. THEN AGAIN HE ALWAYS PREDICTED STRANGE THINGS FOR YOU KIDS. MUSTA BEEN BURNED BY A DRAGON ONE TOO MANY TIMES." My mother admonishes him again and then Hugo's ten-year-old impish laughter is heard around the room as he yells (making the whole room cover their ears against the volume): "HEY SISSY! I HOPE YOU'RE A SLYTHERIN. THAT'S COOL. DID YOU KNOW THAT SNAKES SMELL WITH THEIR TONGUE- I KNOW YOU CAN'T DO THAT BUT IF YOU DID I WOULDN'T CARE. I LOVE YOU ROSIE, NO MATTER WHAT." And with that the envelope is consumed by crackling flames which disintegrate as the paper descends in a shower of wispy ash. The silence which follows is deafening. I bite the inside of my lip hard. Using the pain and Nick's warm hand closed over mine to ground me, I fight down the horrible urge to bawl my eyes out or to run away. Nick's chocolate eyes beg me to be strong, to take refuge in his grip and forget all those other people watching us. I try to smile. It comes out looking more like a grimace. The clicking of heels alerts me someone is coming towards me. I do not turn. I keep gazing into Nick's eyes and at the residual ashes smeared across my plate. My toast has a very charred-chic look to it with all that soot decorating it.
"Miss Weasley-" the stern voice of Professor McGonagall addresses. "-if you'd like to follow me." I stand and leave the comfort and security found in Nick's embrace. In my peripheral vision Albus stares guiltily at his plate and Kat gives me thumbs up from her seat next to some Ravenclaw friend. I follow the Professor in silence, looking straight ahead to keep from crying. Round and round the halls we walk until eventually we reach the Gargoyle which guards the entrance of the tower.
"Multum in parvo." she recites; the gargoyle jumps aside and a great rumbling shakes the earth as the steps rise from the ground spiralling upwards. I'm lead up these steps to a grand set of heavy oak double doors, which are opened with McGonagall's wandless magic. Portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses peer curiously at the young, red-haired witch entering their home-space. I gaze back just as excited and intrigued. An old man with long silvery white hair and beard and half-moon spectacles smiles fondly at me. I know him from Chocolate Frog cards- as well as old photographs and countless family tales- but it is still a shock to be face-to-face with the portrait of Professor (and legend) Albus Dumbledore.
"Well, hello there." his voice is as welcoming as his smile.
"Wow!"I exclaim, completely entranced by meeting the Albus Dumbledore.
"Wow, indeed." he replies, face youthened by amusement and kindness.
"It's truly a pleasure to meet you. I'm Rose Weasley- child of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger." I do an awkward half-curtsy, substituting dress skirts with my usual robes. A portrait- whom I'm later told was of Phineas Nigellus Black huffs loudly.
"Don't mind him," Dumbledore cautions, "He's still a little bitter over never having eaten a sherbert lemon." Nigellus stops rolling his eyes long enough to scoff an exasperated: "For the last time, Albus. I am not envious in the slightest of your favourite sweets. I do not even like sweet morsels, as you very well know." Albus and Nigellus both involve themselves into a lively debate over 'Phineas' soft spot for apple strudel' and the portrait of Severus Snape (in all his black robed, long greasy hair, large hooked nose glory) comments dryly of how 'they're always like this'. I giggle at this and I swear I see a glimmer of gratitude spark in Snape's eyes.
McGonagall's stern voice drags me away from the portraits as she ushers me to a seat. I take the few moments I have to stare down at her ornate and tidy desk, preparing myself for whatever punishment I'm about to get for disrupting the peace (not to mention Vanessa's bright green hair). McGonagall magicks us a trayful spouting a steaming kettle and some teacups. With another delicate flick of her want the entrée dish is joined by a china platter full of plain digestive biscuits. I'm befuddled. Why was she serving me a cup of tea? Was this her way of readying me for a year's worth of detention. Oh bugger! What would my mother say, if that's the case? The professor stirs her both filled teacups, placidly, inquiring politely as
to whether I take any milk or sugar. "Milk please, one sugar." I mumbled, shakily. The tea is strong and the soft brown liquid soothes my throat and settles into my tummy like a warm blanket. I wait for her to speak. Eventually, her thin lips part, voice firm and determined; "Miss Weasley. Tell me all that you know of animagi."
My jaw drops before I regain enough good sense to shut it. It closes with an audible snap.
"An Animagus is a witch or wizard who can morph him or herself into an animal at will. It is a learned, rather than hereditary skill, unlike those of a Metamorphmagus. Information on Animagi is taught to Hogwarts students during their third year Transfiguration class." I recite from memory. Professor McGonagall smiles a little. I'm suspicious but so very much intrigued.
"What is this about Professor? I thought that I was here because of the Howler I was sent. Or the drama I unintentionally caused yesterday lunchtime." Keen eyes peer at me from over sharp wire frames.
"Though no one particularly enjoys hearing a Howler, they are still occasionally sent and there is no way for you to be responsible for your father's' reaction to your sorting. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"As for the drama, I am disappointed in your lack of control and respect for the school rules. Your behaviour was foolish and this is the only warning you will get, as of next time, you will be issued detention."
"I understand." I state, refraining myself from lowering my eyes in shame, trying to recreate a strong yet humble grace. Professor McGonagall sips my tea as I silently ponder her unusual topic of conversation. Why does she want to discuss animagi? I voice my thoughts aloud. A wry smile transforms her thin, petite face.
"What I am about to discuss with you is highly confidential and must be treated with the utmost respect and good sense." I drink this in, sipping my tea to wet my suddenly parched throat. I place the delicate china down onto the saucer with a melodic chink. The Headmistress aves a hand to the plate laden with biscuits.
"Take a biscuit, Miss Weasley."
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When I emerge from the Head's office my mind is spinning and I feel slightly sweet crumbly taste of biscuits and warm tea combined with the conversation I'd just had fills me with a happy, buoyant glow. I momentarily forget that I've just embarrassed myself in front of the whole school, made enemies with a green-haired witch, rowed with Diamond, upset Olivia and mocked Krum. I'm floating on my own little bubble of happiness and I'd be damned if I let go of it. The trip to Potions takes much shorter than I thought it would and before long I've slid into my seat between Scorpius and Al.
"You look happy." Scorpius states,
"No shit Sherlock." I reply back, my usual snark holding none of the bite which is usually ensnared throughout. Instead it sounds more like friendly teasing, something I'd only do with friends or family. Scorpius opens his mouth to reply when Albus returns to his place. He shifts his eyes away from me and I frown up at him in discontent.
"What's wrong?" I ask, tone gentler than the last time we spoke. After all, he still is my cousin, no matter what he might currently think of me. A cold breeze ripples across the classroom and I shiver. Something's off about my cousin and I'm not entirely sure what. His body is tense with stress and purple shadows lurk under weary-looking eyes. "Al-" Having collected his stuff, he turns and walks away. He moves to the desk with Krum who is talking to Professor Van Der Birg. When Sebastian stands up, my happy bubble pops and the colour drains from my face. I turn to Scorpius, exclaiming "He's not seriously coming here is he?" My question is answered by the stench of some God-awful aftershave and the arrogant leer of my favourite person. (Not.) "What are you doing here?" I huff. His books are thrown onto the desk one by one. The reckless abandon he is exhibiting with the poor tomes is increasing my dislike for the boy.
"Sitting next to you, Rosie Posie." he smirks. I want to smack that sleazy smirk off his face. I try distract myself by remembering the proposition from earlier from Professor McGonagall. "I want you to do something- a very tricky and potentially dangerous task for me. I would never have asked unless it was vital." she had said to me. "What's the task?" A long-suffering sigh had been exhaled by the Professor. "I shall get to that later. For now, I was going to put forward an idea which may appeal to you- as a very talented witch and high scoring transfiguration student. It would take a number of years to fulfill and be long, arduous work, so do not take this offer lightly. I was wondering if you'd have any interest in becoming an animagus…"
"-and what would happen, Miss Weasley?" I startle, dragged out from my recollection by the vaguely nasal questioning of the Dutch Potions Professor. I scan the board, noting each ingredient listed on a very common sleeping draught. My cheeks redden as many eyes swivel my way.
"Could you repeat the question please?" I manage. Krum snickers beside me. I subtly dig an elbow into his side. The daggers he shoots me with his eyes threaten to make me smile. My amusement fades, however when the Professor snarks "If you would spend more of your time listening to what I'm saying instead of acting like an airhead, perhaps you would've heard what I'd just said." My eyes widen and I have to bite my lip to repress the sarcastic comments bubbling up my throat. What? I can't believe he's just called me an airhead when in every other lesson I've been putting my hand up and paying close attention to the class. The grumpy man seems to be ignorant of this as do the stupid Gryffindors who guffaw at me behind their hands. Krum's laugh is the loudest, of course and I briefly entertain the idea of me bludgeoning his other eye on the Quidditch pitch. I remember Professor McGonagall's parting words "Stay out of trouble Rose, or else I shall retract my offer. And so I swallow down my rebuttals, force a contrite tone and apologise to the hard-headed Dutch. "Miss Patil, please may you answer the question." Jasmine smiles and replies a long-winded, answer over the properties of Flobberworm mucus; an important ingredient in a standard sleeping draught.
Needless to say that my Potions session only got worse from there. My sleeping draught nearly blew up when I performed the wrong wand work and messed up ingredient measurements, I lost two points from Slytherin for snapping at Krum when Van Der Birg was in earshot and my worry for Albus doubled when he nearly fainted in his stool. I practically sprint to Charms when the bell rings at the end of the lesson. Charms was much better. We had a surprise progression examination in which we performed some basic spells in front of the kind and stout Professor Flitwick. I received top marks for my 'Alohomora' unlocking spell and 'Wingardium Leviosa' (a lifting objects spell my mother taught me) and earned back my lost points for Slytherin. During lunch I seat myself next to Kat at the Ravenclaw table and she cheers me up by recounting how Louis sprouted mouse ears in transfiguration when Alice 'Lissy' Longbottom messed up her spell in double transfiguration earlier that day.
Once my other classes have finished and I'm all done up with my homework I retreat to my dorm room, hoping to make amends with Diamond and Olivia before the day turns sour. Unfortunately, they're both absent from the dorm and instead I find Bethany, who've barely spoken to since school began. Her blonde curls look frazzled and if the iPhone jammed between her ear and shoulder was any sort of hint, I can tell that she's rushing for something. I close the door softly and mooch into my quarter of the room. I sit cross-legged on my pale grey and green comforter and run my fingers over the soft material. I watch curiously as Bethany purses her lips together, listening into her phone. I'm not sure she even notices my presence.
"I understand that ,Ashley, but I also have homework and- no, no of course I'm not undermining your authority, you know that I value our friendship, it's just… Oh? Vanessa said she needed us all gathered tonight, I thought she and Eli were… He did what? Oh poor Nessa… She must feel so heartbroken." Bethany talks into her phone while pulling her assignments out of her satchel, looking down worriedly at the stack of homework she has to complete. Her blonde hair bobs as she nods and mutters coos over, what I can assume, is details over 'Nessa' and Eli's break-up. "So, when you say we're all meeting you mean Nessa, you, Sophie and me, right? Adelaide as well? But she's a Jordan, I thought that her and her family would… No, I'm sorry… Of course it's not my place the question Nessa's judgement... I'll be right over, sure. Bye." She huffs out a breath when she hangs up and stares dejectedly at the phone in her hand. So that's why Bethany never seems to be here. I conclude at last. She and Adelaide have been recruited into bitch central. Bethany pockets her phone then mutters under her breath about 'stupid homework'.
"It's not stupid," I pipe up, cheerfully. Bethany whirls around wide-eyed. "Homework helps us learn more and further our education without being in a classroom environment."
"When did you get here?" she accuses. I shrug my shoulders, enjoying the irritation my nonchalance causes her. "Why does it matter?" I reflect, smiling. Bethany sighs again, another exasperated exhalation of air. She fluffs up her hair, finger combing the frizzy snarls and points over her shoulder at the stack of essays.
"I just wish homework didn't exist. I didn't suffer through home-schooling as a child only to continue working in what is now my new home." This is news to me. I've never really thought about the big-time, high-standard Slytherin families before- never considered how a wizard-centred life would be like and never imagined what it would be like having to be isolated in your own home with some dusty old tutor because 'tradition' involves staying away from muggle primary schools (or anything muggle for that matter).
"What was that like?" I wonder, aloud. "Home-schooling." Bethany opens her mouth and I honestly think she's going to take the time to properly converse with her roommate but at the last minute she appears to check herself and replies with a cool "I need to get going" instead. She chucks her phone, a bunch of Witch Weekly magazines and Honeydukes' Finest Honeycomb chocolate into her school satchel then flounces out of the room without so much as a backwards glance. This time I sigh, wondering if I'm going to be cursed with people like Nessa and popular-wannabe's like Beth all my life. I curse the Rita Skeeter's and Stephanie Melstrom's in the world for creating such gaps in unity and brandishing columns advising girls and boys alike to strive to be popular and cool and pretty when it matters more when someone is genuine and quirky. At least to me. Why be a copy of someone when you can be an original? My mother used to tell me. I glow at the memory, the little reminder that makes me glad I've had such loving parents as my own. Talking of parents makes me recall the Howler this morning. I feel a little guilty and a bucket-full of embarrassment over dad's reaction. I'm a little offended that he thought I'd lie or 'prank' him over something as serious as my House sorting but I can't help but entertain the thought of my sorting being a spontaneous joke created by the sorting hat. If I was Hugo and the hat had pranked him, he would've jumped from his seat and hollered out 'PSYCHE' before turning and marching over to the Gryffindor table where his predecessing jokers (James and Fred) would've gladly welcomed them into their ranks. I push away my 'what if's', old enough to realise that what's done is done and there's no use dwelling on what cannot be changed. I'm too restless to finish off my D.A.D.A essay on how to conquer Boggarts, which is due in next week and am too restless to finish my current Muggle book which is about a sassy Skeleton Detective and his dark-haired kick-ass apprentice. Tinker pads out from her cat hidey-hole and jumps up onto my bed. I stroke her idly, relaxing against her tiny purrs and fluffy head nudges. She arches her back like the cuddle-monster she is and I say a very apologetic goodbye to her as I leave her and my dorm room behind.
I'm perturbed by the amount of enemies I seem to be making and (combined with the fact I'm on the outs with my roommates), I decide it's about time I try draw some truces between me and what feels like the rest of Hogwarts. I'm lost in thought, not looking where I'm going and so it's no surprise when I turn a corner only to crash into another person. "Watch it!"
I stumble and flail a little, tripping over my own feet and landing on my butt in the middle of the hallway. Burning with embarrassment, I look up from my precarious position into the owl-startled expression of my cousin. Albus. I scramble to my feet, taking his surprise to right myself. "Sorry," he mumbles, attempting to step round me.
"Wait!" I call, grabbing his forearm. "Al, please." He stills, body rigid. He turns slowly to face me and I'm struck by the same observations from earlier. Albus looks like crap. He looks miserable. And, weirdly, I feel responsible for him looking this way.
"Yes, Rose?" he prompts.
"Wh-What happened, Al? Why do you look like-" I gesture emphatically at him. Not sure quite how to finish my sentence without him throwing a hissy fit.
"Rose, I'm seriously tired right now and I really don't need any drama from you as well."
His voice is tight. I peer worriedly into those emerald eyes. They're dulled, dampened by something… Or someone.
"Al-" I hesitate; I don't want to upset him any further. I try to be diplomatic. "Is something bothering you?" Albus' eyes instantly turn hard. His defences rise and I wonder sadly what has happened to the sweet, shy boy I boarded the train with weeks ago. The one who preferred his Nintendo over people and idolised Kat. The boy in front of me is still him, I know it. He's just hiding under this other boy. The purple-eyed zombie who's shuffling around Hogwarts.
"Of course not," he replies, quickly. A bit too quickly. "It's just hard getting used to Hogwarts and the studying and stuff."
"You'll get used to it, Al." I reassure, "It'll set in eventually." He smiles at me. I smile back. The moment is nice and hall-marky. Until, Albus' gaze lifts from mine and he spots something from over my shoulder. I spin around, catching sight of the annoying Higgs, Crabbe and Goyle. Crabbe makes a rude gesture at me with his hands and I retaliate by sticking winding up my middle finger then acting overly surprised at the sight of it. Goyle and Higgs glare from the sidelines, watching the display. Crabbe grabs one clumsy hand for his wand, then like the idiot he is, drops it onto the floor and has to crouch down to pick it up again. Fortunately, I am much quicker and using my own wand fire a quick stinging hex at him and Higgs. Higgs screeches and hops from foot to foot. Third-year Crabbe winces but keeps most of his dignity intact while doing so. When I turn to Goyle he's already incanting something so I try dodge the bat bogey hex he tries firing my way. I throw back a disarming spell but my aim is off and Crabbe and Higgs are already recovering. I may be quick on my feet and advanced in charms but I'm no third-year. And- I turn round, looking for Albus, who's mysteriously disappeared- I have no back up. I set off running down the corridor, plugging my ears against the cackles and taunts of the three Slytherin boys behind me.
I don't stop running til I react the library. The smell of books and ink and musk enfolds around me as soon as I push past the two large doors. I slow my pace and with it my heartbeat. I rake a hand through my unruly red locks, unsurprised to find stray hairs standing upright as though I'm a mad-scientist. Madame Pince eyes me as I walk past her desk and I try look as inconspicuous as possible as I pass the sharp-eyed witch. The tables are all occupied, chairs full of eager Ravenclaws and giggling Hufflepuffs. Some are studying others are passing notes or drawing doodles. Teddy is with two of his friends playing cards in a more secretive alcove. He waves at me as I dawdle past. I wave back. I've always had a soft spot for the blue-haired boy. He was sixteen and was the coolest person I'd ever met. Not textbook-dictionary-defined-cool but the kind of cool which wears a lazy smile and a friendly face. The kind of cool who is edgy without trying, unique because he can wear his flaws on his sleeve instead of trying to cover up his wrongs. He's the kind of cool who changes his hair based off of moods, who doesn't try to be something he's not. His eyes hold pieces of the universe and no matter what shade they are they always gleam with depth and a timeless, unending empathy. I like Teddy and I look up to him a lot. I never understand his relationship with Victoire as to me she seems the downright opposite of him; shallow, materialistic and needy. Dominique, Victoire's sister, also wondered the same as me. Only where I kept my musings to myself, she was much more vocal about it. As you may tell, the two sisters did not get along.
Anyway, I pass Teddy and his two card buddies and venture onwards for a spare place. I pass another group, this one showcasing a mixture of girls and boys who are debating in hushed tones about something. As the snoop I am, I can't help but inch myself closer, pretending to be flicking through a random book I nabbed off of the closest bookshelf. I recognise some of the students as first-years. Charlotte Delacour is arguing with one of the older Lovegood twins over something written in the Daily Prophet;
"They are saying that a few muggle-born families have been going missing, recently." she whispers. Lorcan- the more outspoken of the identical twins- points out that: "People go missing all the time, Charlie. Just because they have magical kids, doesn't mean they're being targeted."
"But all those rumours." Maisie points out, frowning "They must stem from somewhere…" George Stooks, a second-year ('Most likely to become the next Minister of Magic' Kat had pointed out to me one time while we were chilling in her common room.) slings a comforting arm around her shoulders. "You forget, Maisie dear, that until proven valid rumours are only whispers passed from mouth to mouth. Don't let gossip cause you distress where none is due." His voice and tone are logical and soothing; Maisie looks at him and nods in agreement.
"Some rumours are true, though." Charlotte persists, twiddling her thumbs in slight unsettlement. She drops her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Just the other day I heard that Vile Vanessa was recruiting more members into her girl gang in some elaborate plot to do a full-on elimination of all the muggle-borns or blood-traitors in Slytherin!" A round of muttering and gasps commence at the end of her speech.
"Please don't call then that, Charlie." Maisie pleads, "You know I hear enough of that rubbish when I'm at the Manor." Charlotte squeezes her arm sympathetically and George hugs her closer. "Sorry, Maisie." Charlotte murmurs, "I was being too blunt again, wasn't I?" "Don't worry about it." the Hufflepuff Parkinson replies.
"Returning to what you just said," Lorcan continues, cobalt eyes wide and aware, "There's no way Cruella can 'eliminate' people from her own House, no matter how powerful and rich her mother is." Logan Zabini, Diamond's dark-skinned brother, contributes with
"Although she could not physically eliminate her Housemates, I don't underestimate the damage she could inflict emotionally on her peers. Don't you guys remember what happened last year between her and that Weasley girl?" This piques my interest.
"What happened?" Charlotte inquires when the table take too long to explain. Weirdly, it is the quiet Scamander twin to speak. Lysander Scamander, the studious boy who shared many traits with his mystical mother- Luna Lovegood. His voice is subdued and tranquil when he speaks:
"Vanessa used to be best friends with a Weasley, believe it or not. They bonded in year seven despite them being sorted into different houses and being from completely different families. They called themselves the Double Vee Queens. Both were stunning blondes, straight A students and completely power-driven. Victoire Weasley and Vanessa Melstrom were inseparable. At least that's what everyone had presumed. In year seven they both went through some tough hurdles: dealing with their mother's disdain for the other- you see, Stephanie is still big on all that pureblood Slytherin stuff whereas the Weasley's have always adopted a more carefree and accepting lifestyle. The House rivalry was fierce at the time due to the Quidditch season and they had to deal with a lot of hate from both of their Houses while still ruling the school. Victoire was obsessed with becoming a famous model, putting her Veela heritage to good use, and Vanessa held the keys to her success. People say that Vanessa merely craved the comfort of having a girl so similar to her that they could be sisters. Others propose Vanessa from eleven upwards only was friends with Victoir for the benefits of having a high-scoring Gryffindor companion whom she could steal notes off of and reap gossip from to use in case anyone got too mouthy. By year eight they had gained power, not only through their 'go big or go home' strategy and ruthless bitchiness but also through the advice of our current Head Girl Marissa. She also held a lot of strings at the time and everyone either feared or loved the Slytherin vixen…" Lysander trails off in thought as though reflecting on the past between the two feuding girls. It suddenly makes much more sense to me: I could make you famous, you know." Vanessa had baited, "Me and my mum could turn your insignificance into something even the upper-class Slytherin purebloods could respect and admire." Vanessa's words had been based off of an earlier encounter. A friendship that had been forged between her and Victoire two years ago. A friendship which had entailed them becoming best friends through future ambition, shared interests and the desire for power. "Victoire was obsessed with becoming a famous model, putting her Veela heritage to good use, and Vanessa held the keys to her success."
The table is rapt, all listening closely to Lysander's dreamy words, ensnared within the theatre he is painting with his words.
"What happened?" Maisie asks, her tone saddened, no doubt remembering the use of past tense. Lysander clears his throat, looking self-conscious at the attention he was receiving. Regardless, he finishes the tale: "Nearing the end of their second year both girls made one crucial mistake; falling for the same guy. Victoire began to realise her deeper feelings for Teddy, the metamorphmagus she had seen around at family gatherings at the Burrow or Potter residence. Meanwhile, Vanessa's love hit her hard and fast and she quickly became fixated on her newfound crush. Being as close as they were, they shared everything with one another. When Victoire realised Vanessa's feelings she withheld her own feelings and encouraged her friend to pursue said feelings. It was a messy affair between the three, which involved far too many shedded tears, vindictive plots and stolen kisses for most people's liking. In the end, Vanessa lost both her best friend and her crush. Her mother took Vanessa's vulnerability to turn her into a frostier witch than she used to be and as she became solo she turned much more anti-Gryffindor, anti-Weasley, anti-love and started fooling around with a long succession of boys to fill her wounded ego and bleeding heart. Vanessa got Prince Charming but lost her inter-house respect and now is more known for her Gryffindor Princess role than her once-threatening demeanor." There is a silence and in the quiet, I slip away from my shadowed alcove and venture further onwards, lost in thought. The story forces me to think on Victoire on her past adventures and despite my best interests I feel a pang of pity for both girls. I reach a chair and I sink into it. I barely look at who else I'm with. Until one of them drags me from my stupor with the lilting accent I've become way too familiar with.
"Are you alright, Rose? You look rather faint." a French accent drawls. My eyes glance up from the table, flickering between Kieran Black and Scorpius Malfoy.
"I'm-I'm fine." I mutter, quietly. Kieran makes his move on the Wizards chess that they are both playing. I'm half-surprised that Madam Pince hasn't kicked them both out yet, considering the collateral noise the mini-figures create. Scorpius doesn't even spare the chess game so much as a glance. He is too busy searching my expression. Whatever he finds makes his eyes darken slightly. "What's wrong?" he asks me. I consider lying to him, telling him weak statements such as 'I'm tired' or 'I'm just hungry,' but I really don't have the energy to muster up yet another defence. I feel slightly unhinged from me shattered impression of Victoire; sure she's still a bitch, but now I know she has roots which triggered mastering the art of meanness to such a precision. She was best friends with a Slytherin. She was best friends with Vanessa Melstrom.
Along with this current revelation, I'm still reeling from my blood-red Howler, the animagus proposition, being seated next to obnoxious Krum, Bethany's recruitment to the Mean Girls clique, Albus' misery and the trio of douchebags duelling match. I'm usually great at keeping stuff to myself, an excellent secret keeper and if need be- the perfect liar. But with concerned silver eyes and the quiet solitude of the farthest table I'm tucked into, I can't help but release the events as though under the effects of the truth serum (Veritaserum). My dialogue is in no shape eloquent but at least it's painfully honest: "To be honest everything and nothing is wrong. My Howler makes me one of the most infamous student and it's only just October. Atop of that McGonagall's encroached me into something which I'm not even sure as to the extent of its danger nor what it involves, I only know of the rewards. I'm possibly going to fluke Potions because Krum has it out for me and won't stop acting like a complete tool. Albus is hiding something serious from me and it's making me, like, super worried cos despite him being a prick over my sorting he's still one of my closest cousins and talking of cousins I just found out some of the history of Victoire and Vanessa and I've also fallen out with Diamond cos I was being a cranky witch this morning and…" I huff out an irritated sigh, "As well as having to watch out for the bitch squad I also must keep an eye on Crabbe and co. cos I kind of…. Accidentally started a duel with him. So yeah…" Kieran looks shocked. Scorpius looks bemused.
"I knew that my prediction would come true," Scorpius flashes a crooked half-smile, "I told you, Rose that you would make this an interesting year. It's only the second month of school and you're already turning the high and mighty into green-haired, revenge-thirsty monsters. You've aggravated three school bullies, publically defended a House you used to, and possible still do, hate. And been granted a special and dangerous mission by the Headmistress herself." Kieran laughs at this, throat husky with amusement. Scorpius joins in and eventually so do I.
"What's next?" Kieran wonders aloud when we calm down a little. I shug, thinking along the same lines. What was coming next… ?Only time would tell...