Notebook: Chapter Three

October Twenty-Fourth, 1991 -- Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Slytherin First Year Dormitories (Girls)

'Dear Pansy,

How are you, daughter? You did not reply to my last letter, so I assume you are very busy --'

Pansy sighed and rubbed her unfortunately-shaped nose. It was true that she was very busy with homework, her friends (Pansy and Draco Malfoy continued to be best friends, and she and Vincent Crabbe had become confidantes), and taking care of Celestina. But that wasn't the reason she hadn't taken to time to reply to her mother's letter; She was so enjoying her time away from home that she was reluctant to even think about home and her parents.She stroked Celestina, who was sitting on her lap, and continued reading.

'-- All of us are well, and we hope you and the cat are, too. Father sends his love -- He's very busy, too, business with... Well, you know who I mean.But I can't say any more about it, so don't you ask miss Pansy Patricia Parkinson! You're far too curious for your own good.--'

"Pansy!" Eleven years old, thin, and greasy-haired Draco Malfoy was calling to Pansy from the hallway. She smiled and folded her mother's letter up -- She would continue to read it later, and jumped off the bed. Celestina hopped to the floor indignantly, and stalked off to chase little animals running around the school's dungeons.

Draco was standing in the corridor with his hands in his pockets. He smiled when Pansy came out of her dormitory.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi. Is it time for breakfast yet?" Pansy said, having lost her watch a few weeks previous. Her friend nodded.

"What've you got there?"

"Oh," Pansy looked at the letter in her hand and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "It's a letter from Mother,"

"Ah, wonderful," Malfoy said sarcastically, as they slowly began to make their way to breakfast. He knew what Pansy thought of her parents.

"I'm thrilled," Pansy replied in a deadpan voice, then smiled. She had fun with Draco sometimes -- When he wasn't being a moody brat.

Eleven year old, stocky Vincent Crabbe joined the two, along with his counterpart, the slightly thicker skulled Gregory Goyle. The four of them walked up the stairs to the Entrance Hall.

...

The four Slytherins sat down and tucked in heartily to another excellent Hogwart's breakfast. Draco was busy stuffing sausage into his hungry mouth when Pansy slapped him lightly on the arm.

"Look what Potter has," Draco reluctantly followed her gaze -- he didn't even seem to want to think about Potter after the disappointment of his Duel plan failing -- and choked on his mouthful. Harry had recieved a large, suspiciously broomstick-shaped package

"What's he doing with a broomstick?!" he said, affronted. "I suppose he thinks that just because he's that fool Dumbledore's little golden boy, he can have a broomstick, too... I'm going over there."

"Oh, Draco, no! Every time you talk to Harry you make a fool out of yourself!" Pansy pleaded, hoping to save her friend from further embarrassment. This remark, however, only made Draco more determined.

"I most certainly do not make a fool of myself, thank you Pansy," he said, haughtily, and stalked off, once again, to the Gryffindor table.

...

'31/10/91

Dear notebook,

Draco is most displeased -- Harry Potter had gotten himself a broomstick, and a spot as Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team! Blaise Zabini told us the news about the Quidditch. It's just awful, Draco's so very jealous. He's been in a bad mood for days. Anyway -- I must go, the Hallowe'en feast is about to start.'

...

Pansy and her friends were enjoying the feast when the Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor, Professor Quirrell came racing into the Great Hall, screaming. Pansy dropped her fork and Goyle fell off his bench.

The Professor said a few words that Pansy couldn't quite catch, and passed out. There was a rippled of whispers throughout the room.

"What did he say?" Pansy, asked, slightly panicky -- She had not liked the look on the Professors' face.

"There's a troll, in the dungeons!" The other Slytherins whispered, and Pansy gasped. A troll? In Hogwarts?

Dumbledore ordered the Prefects to take their peers back to their Common Rooms, as they did. The older Slytherins were laughing "It's okay, we'll just throw him a few first years!" one particularly rowdy one said. The Prefects looked irritated and told him to shut up. Pansy winced. 'Shut up' was such an awful term, and she'd never heard it before coming to school.

Pansy and the other girls were led into their dormitory.

"I hope everything's okay," Pansy said, nervously.

"Oh, be quiet, Pansy. Don't be such a wimp." Millicent Bulstrode -- Who did not care much for Miss Parkinson -- said callously.

"Don't talk to me like that, Millicent Bulstrode!" Pansy said, offended. How dare a Bulstrode talk to a Parkinson like that?

"I'll talk to you how I want.. slut." Millicent said the last word in a stage whisper, with a satisfied smile. The other girls in the room gasped and giggled at the use of such a bad word. Pansy just stared at Millicent, confused.

"Er -- Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I've seen all those boys you hang about with." Pansy -- who was too naive to know what the word meant -- was beginning to get an idea of its definition. And she wasn't pleased.

"They're just my friends!"

"Yeah, whatever you say, Pansy," Millicent smiled knowingly and pulled the curtains around her bed. Sighing, Pansy did the same. Celestine cuddled up next to her hip and began purring softly, but even with that comfort there, it was some time until Pansy fell asleep.