~Watching Her~
The twelve-year-old Virginia was unlike any other second year at Hogwarts you could tell that her eyes didn't sparkle with childlike innocence, and she didn't speak to anyone, she just watched; everyone.
And I just watch her.
She walked through the doors with all the other students; Gryffindors, but you could tell that she didn't belong, no one paid attention to her, just like last year, she was better at that than me and my Slytherins. She looked dazed, like it was all too much for her, to be back within these walls that had betrayed her. I knew the feeling well, every time I thought of Voldemort and Dumbledore, even Potter.
It sickened me to see that the bumbling fool Lockhart took the job of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. How could that conniving old man allow that ingrate, a lying fake teach the students. I would have said something aloud to Dumbledore and the staff but it would have gotten me no where at all.
It seemed as if Virginia thought the same, though I wonder why. Everyone has fallen for the flashy, annoying joke of a man, why shouldn't she. No, Virginia has a head on her shoulder, and for that I have to say that I am proud of her, for even goody two shoes Granger has fallen for the imbecile, to my sadistic joy.
I glared at the Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs for good measure, not bothering with the Ravenclaws, my Slytherins or Virginia, a category all her own. Then I left the table, stalking out of the Great Hall after I had gotten my fill of the overly rich food. And I do know that I looked overly imposing with my robe flying behind me, and I loved it, the way the first years sniveled and jumped when they saw me, the way that almost everyone at one time or another, and hopefully still was, scared of me.
***
The year went on, I got my fill of insolent students, and I felt that my sneer had been permanently etched on my face. Potions had been horrible, Longbottom as it would seem couldn't possibly have gotten worse, but that too appears to be false. Potter having nearly killed me more times than I feel should be allowed has gotten off scott free, just think; four more years then I'm free.
My current fascination seems to have breached all of my expectations of her this year. Virginia further alienated herself from the majority of the school populace, though I doubt anyone noticed to my ever-lasting chagrin. She even did exceptionally well in potions as well as all her other classes, she could be better than Granger if I'm not mistaken.
For a now, I'm assuming thirteen year old girl, she is far more mature and independent than natural. I wanted to teach her things. Dark, vile things, but I wanted her to have a childhood first. It appears that she has taken it to herself to learn more than she should know. I'd seen her in the library, searching for books, in the most unlikely categories, though none of them are dangerous enough or dark enough for her to reach her ultimate goal.
Perhaps next year I'll approach her, let her think it over. She's had her time to figure out what she wants, soon it'll be my turn. I wonder, will she go along with my plan, I can't truly say I know the girl, she has eluded even myself, a great feat that.
Dumbledore has noticed nothing, or at least if he has, he hasn't stopped her or myself, I dare not think of what goes on in his conniving mind, a mind far worse than any of my Slytherins could match in cunning. Though I am loathe to admit it, he is going too far in his manipulation, sooner or later something will go wrong, and everyone will pay for what that man has done. Both Voldemort and Dumbledore are similar in that aspect, they both have a cause they think is the only one that can save the wizarding world from some horrible fate, but they can't see that it's themselves that are leading it to its final destruction.
I feel pity for Potter, he truly hasn't a clue what is going on, he learns only what Dumbledore wants him to, nothing important, just enough to play a part to get the puzzle pieces in the right place on the board. Though I do not see this as a reason to be nicer to the little ingrate, if he is stupid enough to fall into the trap then why should I care? Yet both his and my own situation has startling similarities, the only difference is that I know I'm being played, and for that I have no excuse.