SECOND YEAR: PANSY PARKINSON
Slytherin parties were always wild. It kinda went with the territory. People thought we were bad so we would simply try to live up to our titles as the 'evil scum of Hogwarts'.
This one - for me at any rate - was different.
My second year and Slytherin popularity was at an all time low (except for perhaps during the war against the Dark Lord). Salazar Slytherin's secret hidden chamber had been unlocked and the 'beast within' released in the school - whatever it was.
Everyday we were greeted in the Great Hall and our classrooms by constant hexes and hurled insults. The Gryffindors were the worst. They were always so bloody righteous and so up themselves. The Ravenclaws, many of whom were good friends of mine, became weary and distant, and, even though they were too nice to say much, you could tell that the Hufflepuffs felt just as strongly as the Gryffindors.
Dad had sounded thrilled when I'd told him about the supposed opening of the Chamber of Secrets. I'd told him through the fireplace and his eyes had lit up and he had spoken in an awestruck voice.
"It's our Lord, baby," he'd said, "Our Lord is returning!"
Of course no one believed that it was the Dark Lord. And, obviously, no one in Slytherin at that time knew who the heir was. We had asked around immediately and could think of nobody with the ability to open the hidden room.
Despite all of the wonderful intrigue, anti-Slytherin-ity began to wear on us all.
"Everything will be fine," Draco reassured me at breakfast one morning, "We've survived worse than this. Don't worry your pretty little head about it." He'd grinned and then continued eating his cornflakes and soya milk (he had a thing about dairy products) as though everything was normal.
But it wasn't. How could it be? Even if Draco could cope with round the clock abuse, I couldn't. I didn't even give a damn about that Godforsaken chamber!
So that was how I found myself, one wild and blustery night during Easter break, downing countless shots that burned my throat. I just wanted one night where I could be a normal teenage girl again.
I'd been to the parties before. Right the way through from ickle firsties to those taken their NEWTs attended - age was of no consequence. A lot of the time, I'd have a couple of cocktails and leave it at that. I wasn't into the smoking, drugs or sex that was going on, and - trust me - they were all readily available to me in our common room. Oh, I got into those later on, but the night I'm telling you about I guess you could say was the beginning of my downward spiral.
That night I drank and drank and drank. Firewhiskey that made smoke pour out my nostrils; sickly sweet cherry rum; absinthe and hot water from huge steaming cauldrons - I downed them all without a thought. Every now and then the room would lurch and spin like I was riding a crap old Comet Series Two, and the rest of the time it swam lovingly across my vision, swaying me as though on a rowing boat in gentle waters.
My mind felt soft and squidgy and all of my worries just seemed to melt and dribble out the soles of my shoes.
It was... fantastic. A perfect dizzy world.
Around four in the morning, Nott decided it would be best to take me down to my bed and try and get me to sleep.
"C'mon Parkinson, I'll carry you," he offered, chuckling, after I'd failed for the fifth time to get up from the sofa. Every time I tried to stand my legs sort of dissolved. I attempted to explain this to Millicent that it was impossible for me to stand or move as my legs had no bones in them. She'd simply glanced at Nott before they each grabbed me under the arms and hauled me up.
"Okay! Alright!" I yelled, "I can manage myself!"
And I did manage. That is until I reached the stairs. The staircase led down to the dormitories. We had only one dormitory corridor - girl's rooms on the left, guys on the right. It was so much simpler than separate wings for the genders as the other houses had. I expect those rules would've gotten broken too often in our Slytherin dungeons. We weren't promiscuous, more curious.
Anyway - I got to the steps. For a few moments I stood, swaying slightly, both my hands on the banister. Then... I dunno what happened... I just seemed to teeter at the edge before falling gracefully forwards like I was skydiving.
My head hit the stone steps and I bounced like a coconut down, down, down. Thump, thump, thump, CRASH!
I plunged down the staircase in my intoxicated daze, barely registering the pain I must've felt as my head and arms got pretty cut up and bruised. As the foot of the stairs I simply barrelled head first into the opposite wall.
The corridor around me flickered before me like there was a faulty connection somewhere inside my brain. I gasped in one ragged breath as my eyes rolled back into my head.
Everything went black.
Slytherin parties were always wild. It kinda went with the territory. People thought we were bad so we would simply try to live up to our titles as the 'evil scum of Hogwarts'.
This one - for me at any rate - was different.
My second year and Slytherin popularity was at an all time low (except for perhaps during the war against the Dark Lord). Salazar Slytherin's secret hidden chamber had been unlocked and the 'beast within' released in the school - whatever it was.
Everyday we were greeted in the Great Hall and our classrooms by constant hexes and hurled insults. The Gryffindors were the worst. They were always so bloody righteous and so up themselves. The Ravenclaws, many of whom were good friends of mine, became weary and distant, and, even though they were too nice to say much, you could tell that the Hufflepuffs felt just as strongly as the Gryffindors.
Dad had sounded thrilled when I'd told him about the supposed opening of the Chamber of Secrets. I'd told him through the fireplace and his eyes had lit up and he had spoken in an awestruck voice.
"It's our Lord, baby," he'd said, "Our Lord is returning!"
Of course no one believed that it was the Dark Lord. And, obviously, no one in Slytherin at that time knew who the heir was. We had asked around immediately and could think of nobody with the ability to open the hidden room.
Despite all of the wonderful intrigue, anti-Slytherin-ity began to wear on us all.
"Everything will be fine," Draco reassured me at breakfast one morning, "We've survived worse than this. Don't worry your pretty little head about it." He'd grinned and then continued eating his cornflakes and soya milk (he had a thing about dairy products) as though everything was normal.
But it wasn't. How could it be? Even if Draco could cope with round the clock abuse, I couldn't. I didn't even give a damn about that Godforsaken chamber!
So that was how I found myself, one wild and blustery night during Easter break, downing countless shots that burned my throat. I just wanted one night where I could be a normal teenage girl again.
I'd been to the parties before. Right the way through from ickle firsties to those taken their NEWTs attended - age was of no consequence. A lot of the time, I'd have a couple of cocktails and leave it at that. I wasn't into the smoking, drugs or sex that was going on, and - trust me - they were all readily available to me in our common room. Oh, I got into those later on, but the night I'm telling you about I guess you could say was the beginning of my downward spiral.
That night I drank and drank and drank. Firewhiskey that made smoke pour out my nostrils; sickly sweet cherry rum; absinthe and hot water from huge steaming cauldrons - I downed them all without a thought. Every now and then the room would lurch and spin like I was riding a crap old Comet Series Two, and the rest of the time it swam lovingly across my vision, swaying me as though on a rowing boat in gentle waters.
My mind felt soft and squidgy and all of my worries just seemed to melt and dribble out the soles of my shoes.
It was... fantastic. A perfect dizzy world.
Around four in the morning, Nott decided it would be best to take me down to my bed and try and get me to sleep.
"C'mon Parkinson, I'll carry you," he offered, chuckling, after I'd failed for the fifth time to get up from the sofa. Every time I tried to stand my legs sort of dissolved. I attempted to explain this to Millicent that it was impossible for me to stand or move as my legs had no bones in them. She'd simply glanced at Nott before they each grabbed me under the arms and hauled me up.
"Okay! Alright!" I yelled, "I can manage myself!"
And I did manage. That is until I reached the stairs. The staircase led down to the dormitories. We had only one dormitory corridor - girl's rooms on the left, guys on the right. It was so much simpler than separate wings for the genders as the other houses had. I expect those rules would've gotten broken too often in our Slytherin dungeons. We weren't promiscuous, more curious.
Anyway - I got to the steps. For a few moments I stood, swaying slightly, both my hands on the banister. Then... I dunno what happened... I just seemed to teeter at the edge before falling gracefully forwards like I was skydiving.
My head hit the stone steps and I bounced like a coconut down, down, down. Thump, thump, thump, CRASH!
I plunged down the staircase in my intoxicated daze, barely registering the pain I must've felt as my head and arms got pretty cut up and bruised. As the foot of the stairs I simply barrelled head first into the opposite wall.
The corridor around me flickered before me like there was a faulty connection somewhere inside my brain. I gasped in one ragged breath as my eyes rolled back into my head.
Everything went black.