Chapter 7: Belonging
I'm getting bored of this. I own nothing you recognise here and I am not making any profit. I don't own U2 Sunday Bloody Sunday, which I quoted the lyrics from. I know it's been a long time, but I have my ballet exam a week on sunday and 3 lessons a week and A-Levels don't leave much time to write.
The levels of green were quite overbearing and it was still cold, though warmer than the corridor. It was rather grand and not particularly welcoming. The ceiling was low, and the dark cupboards imposing. The couches were leather, black and green, and didn't look that comfy. I was tired and wanted to get to bed but I blinked my eyes, trying to stay awake for a while. Jasmine Oakley led us to the girls' dorms, which were slightly cosier. It also had a low ceiling and silver hooks gleaming on the left side of the door. The beds were made of the same dark wood as the common room cupboards and the bedding was white and green. My bed was the first on the right of the door, as you came in. I had a desk with a chair, a chest of drawers and a mirror as well.
We went back downstairs where the portly looking man was standing. We firsties were directed to sit at the front on the floor. The older students were lounging around on furniture and the oldest had commandeered the sofas. There was obviously a hierarchy in this house. They all were quiet so we followed their lead.
"Welcome to a new school year. I'm sure this will be a good year for Slytherin and I hope you will do us all proud. Many of my former students who went on to do great things came from Slytherin. I want all of you to be able to make me proud. After all, you are Slytherins.
"I wish to remind you that the password changes fortnightly, so please check it or you will be stuck in the corridor until someone else turns up. I wish to stress the importance of house loyalty. I don't want anyone sent to me because of a fight with another member of Slytherin. I don't want you to get caught fighting with anyone actually, but I know the other houses like to hex you, so self-defence is acceptable, though I mean ONLY defence is allowed. I'm talking to you, Mr. West." He glared at an older boy, who looked sheepish. "I really don't understand why you can't just get on with the other houses. They don't have problems between them.
"I understand that settling in is hard, and I am always here if there is a problem, and I'll try and help, though I am a busy teacher so please don't distract me if it is something you can deal with yourselves." I thought he was more like the teachers from primary school, all about 'presenting a united front' than the helpful attitude he claimed to have. I noted the operative word 'try'. "Now does anyone have any questions? No? Then I think it's high time you all went to bed. Goodnight." And with that he left the room.
"Right, now old Sluggie has gone, we can start. Welcome, midgets, to the proud house of Salazar Slytherin. Introduce yourselves." This was Sheehan talking.
"Georgia Eastbourne. If I have to tell you who my family is, you're obviously a mudblood."
"Kathryn Malden, same, and I want a space on the Quidditch team, so captain beware."
They went on until they reached me.
"Amber Louise Darrow. I'm from Birmingham."
There was a silence, a drawn breath. Then, an arrogant, malicious voice came out of Sheehan's mouth, so very different to how it was only moments ago. "I didn't realise at the sorting," He began, staring at his curled fingertips, "But I've never heard the name Darrow before." His posture changed fluidly to become all defensive, forcing me to stumble backwards as he walked closer and closer "So what do we have here, a mudblood, or someone whose mother was such a slut that she couldn't get a shag off a wizard that she resorted to some filthy muggle." I refused to answer. "Oi, West, I think we have one tough cookie here, fancy teaching her a lesson?" West nodded. "So I repeat again, what blood are you?"
Self preservation rules again. I might as well try to limit the damage before they beat the answer out of me. I scream from inside myself, but it probably only came out normally "I'm a muggleborn and proud!" There were gasps from around the room.
"WHAT! No, this can't be happening. There is no way we are letting a mudblood in this house! Out! Now! You are disgracing the name Salazar."
"No, the Sorting Hat put me here, so I'm staying." Courage flowed through me. I was fed up of taking things lying down. Maybe the sorting hat was right, that I could be braver than I first though. That I could stand up for myself. No-one here knew my pressure points.
"You'll pay for that! West, I think she needs that lesson!"
"We're a school; it's what we do best." The two boys started advancing on me, wands drawn, while the other students pinned me in, preventing me from escaping. The blows came thick and fast, though they weren't thrown by the boys but were, in fact, a barrage of spells that replicated the brute strength of a punch. I couldn't feel anything but pain. A few girls chucked in some more creative spells, which only added to the agony. I was praying to God they would stop. It hurt so much. I mustn't scream, don't scream. That would make me weak. Would the torture never end? OW OW OW… Finally, face pushed into the floor, eyes streaming with tears, I heard some soft spoken words, not to me, but on of my abusers:
"Leave her now, or they'll be comments tomorrow."
"If you insist, but I want a snog."
"Of course, you were going to get one anyway m'dear. You wouldn't have got one though if you had got mudblood all over your hands."
West bent down by my ear and whispered: "You got lucky this time mudblood, you must be so glad Harriet stopped us or you would be in the hospital wing right now. Next time I'll hit you in places that don't show."
I lay there in my suffering, hoping to Merlin they would all just leave me. Someone's hand held mine. It was delicate; a female's.
"I don't think there's anything wrong with you. I'm Scarlett Ramsey, would you like a hand, they gave you quite a bad beating."
"T…t…hanks." I was starting to sound like Claire from earlier. Was it only 6 hours ago, it seemed like eternity.
"No problem. Just so you know, I don't think they liked you."
"No shit Sherlock."
"Eh?"
"Muggle fictional detective. Doesn't matter, just a phrase."
"That's cool; let's get up to bed, seeing as we have to unpack tomorrow." Scarlett helped me limp up the stairs to our dorm and led me over to my bed. The others gave me a few dirty looks, but left me alone. I climbed on to my bed and grabbed my bag, said goodnight to Scarlett and pulled the curtains shut and added privacy spell I read about called a silencing charm. After getting my pyjamas on I dived under the green, harsh colours, and cried myself to sleep like I had so many times before.
DotDotDot
I woke up the next morning to find my hair covered in slime. Vile. I opened the curtains and hopped down from the bed, which was too high for me to touch the floor. On my bedside table I found my alarm clock smashed to pieces and a note saying "I hope you enjoyed your lie-in Mudblood!" I grabbed my things from my bag and ran into the bathroom sobbing again. Bloody leaking hosepipe. I found a watch and groaned when I realised I had slept through breakfast. I was regretting my agreement with the hat last night. Deciding there was nothing else I could do at present I put the shower on and enjoyed 15 minutes with only my thoughts. I enjoyed the sensation of water running over me and the feeling of cleanliness. I tipped my head back and massaged shampoo into my scalp, the slow circular movements of my fingers soothing the headache that had sprung from crying. I missed home. I wanted my Mummy and Daddy and I wanted my nice warm bed, to be curled up with Lucy, with my special hot chocolate, with marshmallow fluff on top like you can buy in Selfridges in the Bullring. Even at school in Birmingham I was never beaten up, only verbally abused. I wanted to get on the train right now and go home. Even at primary school you would never have gotten away with that, and you would have been given marching orders immediately. I sat on my bed, towelling my hair off when the others came back from breakfast. Georgia, Kathryn and Rebecca held their noses theatrically when they saw me.
"Georgia, Becky, I can smell something foul in here."
"Why so do I, the wretched house elves must be doing something wrong."
"Let us leave. We mustn't spend time here if the stench has got so bad." They turned their heads in unison and strutted out.
Scarlett came to sit next to me, and she put her arm round me and gave me a squeeze. "I would ask them not to but I value my own head a bit more. Besides, it wouldn't do anything. I would rather show my support than speak it. I'm sorry I couldn't stop them this morning. It was cruel. Would you like me to repair your clock?"
"Yes please." I replied in a very small voice, one that might belong to someone who was terrified of crowds and was currently situated in a pack of people.
"Reparo." Came a clear, confident voice. The clock picked itself up one by one, fixing it like it had never been broken. "If you want somewhere quiet to go and hide, my Mother always recommended the top of the owlery. You go over the clock tower bridge and you can't miss it. The clock tower can be accessed by the portrait of Damara Dodderidge on the first floor, on the left hand side. I'll show you. My parents taught me my way round Hogwarts aged 7 through maps."
I allowed myself to be led up the stairs to said portrait of a woman in old fashioned clothing, sleeping in her frame.
"Miss Dodderidge. MISS DODDERIDGE!"
"What? So hungry…What do you want?"
"Miss Dodderidge this is Amber, a first year just like me who is a bit upset. I recommended that she could go to the owlery if she wanted peace and quiet, but she doesn't know her way round yet. The easiest way for her to get there is through your portrait. Would you be kind enough to grant her passage?"
"Well…I suppose I could. Come on then dear. At the other end you just go straight through the big door to the left of my portrait. It's right across the courtyard, over the bridge and it's the path to the right of the stone circle." I willingly allowed the passage to swallow me up. Blackness was better than life. Scarlett waved at me and I wondered if this was a prank, but at the other end a door was opening and flooding the corridor with light. I stepped out, trying to work out my bearings. I could hear the friendly voice in my head "Big door on left, across courtyard." There were 3 doors and I started to panic. "Big door" One of them was much, much larger than the other two. That must be it. It was heavy, but some spell must have been cast because it was a tenth of the weight I expected. Daylight blinded me, so I stepped gingerly out further, allowing my eyes to accommodate. I smiled when I could finally see properly. The courtyard was pretty. Stone brickwork made up archways which lead to a walkway. Flowers grew all around and in one corner was a pear tree. In the centre was a waterfall cascading from a gold logo atop a black plinth. Moving closer I could see the letters DA in the logo, and rows upon rows of names were carved into the plinth. "Stewart Abercrombie, Eleanor Branstone…" These were the names of the fallen. The students a few years older than me who gave their lives to save us all. To save me. "This many lost, but tell me who has won" to quote U2. Was it really a fitting gesture to have their names carved in lifeless stone, no emotion or expression? They had lived, they loved and were loved. They danced to music and read books. I could recite each and every one of their names, and those of the survivors. What I didn't know was who they were. Were they alone, had parents who loved them, had one parent, or only siblings? What were their favourite colours? Where did they come from? Did they have a boyfriend or girlfriend? What did they feel under the cruciatus? I wished I could be as strong as them, but deep down I knew I was weak. I couldn't cope with a little slime and they suffered cruciatus curses, starvation and beatings. I don't know what the cruciatus really felt like. I've never truly experienced it. My nightmare doesn't count, I see that now. Now that I have truly felt magically induced pain. Pain that won't stop until the curse is ended, even if the curses they were using weren't even a tenth as bad as a cruciatus.
I never did make it to the owlery, but instead I curled up in the farthest corner of the walkway and sobbed for the life I had so long dreamed of. I cried that I had people that loved me, but were so far away. I sobbed for the eternal darkness I wished could consume me.
