The next morning, we were all rudely awakened at dawn by Flint, who demanded that we get in some practice. As we were all getting ready, he went up to find Madam Hooch and ask if anyone had booked the pitch for the day. He came back sometime later with a permission slip from Professor Snape in his hand.
I didn't miss him checking out my form, as I'd chosen a short black skirt (it was still warm outside, after all), grey tights, black slip-ons, a strapless white undershirt, a white tank top, and Slytherin scarf. As a matter a fact, I hadn't missed most of the boys, even Draco, in my year sneaking stares at me. It really didn't help that my bust had filled in some over the summer, although if Mother's form was anything to judge by, I was far from done.
When we got to the pitch, mouse boy was up in the stands clicking away on his camera, taking pictures of the Gryffindor team as they practiced. Granger and Weasley were also up there, watching. George Weasley, identical twin of Fred Weasley and fellow troublemaker, had just pointed at us and said something to Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain to call his attention. The captain, in his anger, shot to the ground and staggered slightly as he dismounted his broom. Harry Potter, Fred, and George followed close behind.
"Flint!" Wood bellowed at our captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!" I knew that Marcus was large, but I had never realized how big he really is until he stood in front of Wood.
"Plenty of room for all of us, Wood." He replied as the Gryffindor Chasers came over, too. I was certain that from where they stood, they couldn't even see Draco and I.
"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"
"Ah," Flint again replied, "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. `I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker and Chaser."
"You've got a new Seeker and Chaser." Wood stated, distracted now, "Where?" The five large figures in front of us moved aside, and Draco and I walked up, smirking.
"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" Fred asked, looking at Malfoy with dislike. I noticed that he and his brother wouldn't look me in the eye.
"Funny you should mention Draco's father," Flint said as our whole team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team." All seven of us held out our broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun. "Very latest model. Only came out last month," Marcus continued carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps"- he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives – "sweeps the board with them." I chuckled at his words. None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits. "Oh, look," Flint went on, "A field invasion." Ron and Hermione were crossing the grass to see what was going on.
"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what're they doing here?" He was looking at Draco and I, taking in our Slytherin Quidditch robes.
"We're the new Slytherin Chaser and Seeker, Weasley." I told him smugly, unable to help myself.
"Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team." Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him. "Good, aren't they?" Draco continued smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them." The Slytherin team howled with laughter.
"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent." The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered while I glared at her. I had gotten in on pure talent, thank you very much!
"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood." He spat at her.
Several things happened at once after he said that. Flint, namely, dived in front of him to stop Fred and George from tackling him. One of the Chasers on the other team shrieked, "How dare you!"; and Ron pulled out his wand from his robes, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" Everything, however, stopped after this, as a loud bang sounded that echoed all around the stadium. Ron flew backwards, a bright green light having shot out, and for a minute I thought he'd used one of the Unforgiveable Curses on himself by accident.
"Ron! Ron! Are you alright?" Hermione squealed as she ran to his side. He opened his mouth to speak as he sat up, but instead of words, a mighty belch and several fat slugs dribbled out of his mouth and onto his lap.
Our team was petrified with laughter. Flint was doubled up, using his broomstick for support. Draco was next to me, on all fours, banging the ground with his fist. I was lying down on my back, laughing so hard I could hardly breathe. The other team left after that, and we were allowed to practice in peace.
Draco wasn't a half bad Seeker. A good eye and a bit smaller than even me, he was a quick little thing. I was glad we had both earned our places on the team… but something bothered me about the way it did seem as though we'd bought our way onto the team. I tried shrugging it off, but it wouldn't leave me alone for the rest of the day.
Draco, however, hadn't forgotten about Blake.
"So," he started that afternoon during our free period. I was lying on my stomach on one of the couches, doing a Potions essay, and he had been (allegedly, though I knew better) studying for a Transfiguration test tomorrow. "Who's the Ravenclaw?" I made the mistake (that I'm usually careful to avoid) of avoiding his eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about." I could almost see him roll his eyes.
"Yes, you do. Herbology. Yesterday. Kicked Crabbe out of our group so he could stand next to you. I'm not blind, Dem." I sighed.
"Yet somehow, I wish you were." I sat up straight and stared at him seriously. "What do you want to know?"
"When did you meet him?" He was staring straight into my eyes, making me a bit uneasy. I could tell how serious he was about this.
"On my way to Flourish and Blotts when we went to Diagon Alley a few weeks ago."
"How did you meet him?"
"You know how I get. I was deep in thought about something silly or another, and we collided. When he asked where I was headed, I told him, and he asked if he could accompany me. We separated at the door. I didn't even know he went to Hogwarts, he never mentioned school. I only realized it when he answered Professor Sprout's question about the Mandrakes." A pause as he took this in, "Believe me, Draco, if I thought at all there was a chance I was going to run into him ever again, I would have warned you." Another small pause, and then he nodded again.
"I believe you. If he bothers you again, tell me." I nodded, and he got up to come sit next to me. I leaned my head on his shoulder, and heard him mutter about bloody Ravenclaws trying to get involved with people above them. "What's his name, anyway?"
"Blake Belcher." He stiffened a bit, and I looked up at him. "What's wrong?"
"I thought… No, I must be mistaken…" Was my answer.
October came, and with it a change of season, as well as an onslaught of disease. Both Draco and I came down with a cold, but Madam Pomfrey's Pepperup Potion, although it made our ears smoke for a while, helped us get through classes.
Rain pelted our windows and the grounds above the Slytherin dorms. The lake rose several inches, the flowerbeds turned to mud, and pumpkins I could see from the castle in Hagrid's backyard were the size of some of the fifth years. Even though he could be called 'lazy', Flint still kept the team practicing as much as possible. He wanted Draco and I to get used to our positions and learning all the rules, specifically the ones that we could break and get away with, while also getting used to the speed of our new brooms that made us shoot around so fast we were green blurs.
The Halloween feast approached, and I didn't see Potter at it, to my surprise. I had been "looking for him" for Draco, or, in reality, looking to see if Blake was there. Not because I was hoping he'd be there! But he'd gotten into this weird habit of staring at me from across the Great Hall during mealtimes. It was… awkward.
The oddest thing about the feast was the seeming lack of ghosts. You would think, being a Halloween feast, they'd be living it up. But, strangely, even the Bloody Baron who had grown accustomed to sitting across from me, they were all gone.
Just like any other mealtime, though, the feast quickly came and went. I ate my food, didn't really talk to anyone, and just felt Draco's familiar presence next to me and Blake's stare from across the room. Soon enough, we were dismissed, and headed for the dungeons. To our great shock, however, we were greeted down one of the halls by the sight of the Golden Trio staring at Mrs. Norris, who had been petrified and hanging from a torch by her tail, along with words written in blood on the wall. Draco suddenly grabbed my hand and pulled me forward.
"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!" He shouted above the quiet, his usually dead-looking face alive for the first time outside of Quidditch practice. I tried to grin as well, realizing what this meant.
"What's going on here? What's going on?" Attracted no doubt by Malfoy's shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror. "My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" He shrieked, and looking around, his popping eyes fell on Harry. "You!" He screeched. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll-"
"Argus!" Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron, and Hermione and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket. "Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger." Lockhart suddenly stepped forward eagerly.
"My office is nearest, Headmaster - just upstairs - please feel free -"
"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore. The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape. Soon as they were gone, I walked up to the writing to find out what it said.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE
"You know the legend, don't you?" Draco whispered behind my shoulder suddenly, surprising me. I hadn't heard him approach. I shrugged noncommittally.
"I've heard of the legend, and I know bits and pieces, but not the whole story." I could see his smirk out of the corner of my eye.
"C'mon," he pulled me into an empty classroom, "The legend goes that awhile after the founders started Hogwarts, Slytherin and the others started fighting, because he didn't want to let Muggle-borns in. "I nodded, knowing this part, "But, before he left, he built the Chamber of Secrets, which he sealed so that no one but his own heir could open it. His heir would then purge the school of all those unworthy to learn magic." I had closed my eyes while he spoke, thinking deeply about whom it could be. Obviously Draco had come to mind, but he would have told me. Still, wouldn't hurt to ask. My eyes opened wearily, as though I had been carrying a heavy burden for a long time.
"Draco, it isn't you, is it?" He scoffed.
"Of course not, don't you think I would have told you if I was the heir of Salazar Slytherin?" He sneered out at me, and I pursed my lips. "Oh no, don't tell me you're going to try and find out who it was like last year with the Stone?" He moaned, and I smirked.
"Of course, you dolt, now come on. I want to look into the Slytherin family tree." He quirked an eyebrow at me as I turned to leave.
"You honestly think that'll just be lying around?" I chuckled.
"No, but I bet the Ministry has kept detailed records of the more notable magical families for generations, and obviously the Slytherin family would be one of them, although there's probably been a daughter in there somewhere that's had to have the family name changed to something else."
"So how are you going to do it?" I pursed my lips again, as was my habit when I was deep in thought.
"Well, either of our father's would have access to those kinds of records, I think. I'll write home and ask my father if he could look into it for me before he finds out about the attack."
I sent Orion bearing a letter to Father that evening before I went down to dinner. That night, and for the next few days following, were filled with talk about the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch wasn't helping things any, the way he paced at the spot where she had been attacked, like he was expecting the culprit to return. He'd been seen by a Slytherin 4th year scrubbing the message on the wall with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but it was no use, as the words still gleamed when the light caught them. When he wasn't guarding the spot where his cat had been attacked, Filch was skulking the corridors with puffy, red eyes, lunging out at any students that were "breathing loudly" or "looking happy". A small part of me pitied him, but it was just a small part.
The next week or so was strange, when rumors were spreading that Potter was the heir of Slytherin. Draco and I literally laughed out when we heard that. Actually, Draco laughed about it for several days. It just made me chuckle about how people in this school would believe anything. But then, people had been saying for a long time that Potter was probably a really powerful Dark wizard, to have been able to defeat Voldemort all those years ago.