Ch 5

I should have known....

I became perfectly aware of the implications of entering the Wizarding world from the very first week.

Raised as a thoroughbred muggle (much to the chagrin of the Slytherins), those bed time stories of warlocks, witches , charms and fantastic creatures that my parents told me as a child all turned out to be true. They had the notion, as parents do sometimes, that if the news was broken in to me slowly then the introductory letter from Hogwarts would not come as a big shock.

I also kept from the truth about my aunt Dorcas Meadowes, who was personally taken down by Voldermort and not by an acute attack of typhoid as I was led to believe for many years.

That was another reason.

I am not prone to sentiment but I still get affected by memories of her. I suppose we were as close as niece and aunts could possibly get, besides sharing the same name.

It scares me a little, when I think about how I inherited more than just features and a name from her.

There was the way her dark frizzy hair (like mine) used to stick out in all angles while she taught me how to make toffee during the hot summer months. Or how she would know when I was upset by a recent fight with my brother, even if I pulled my best poker face at her.

Then there was her Gaze.

Her dark gaze could cut through glass and see all its little secrets which didn't help when I was telling lies, white and otherwise. People say I've inherited that look...

Well needless to say, it was still big news when the letter did arrive.

Visions of oven toasted witches and melting witches from the East swirled around my head for the entire day. I still retained the fairy tale notion of wizards and witches that all muggle children tend to have and to find out that I was one of them , even if only 'half 'a witch was not a pleasant discovery.

But I never once associated auntie Dorcas's memory with witches.

I think I was more shocked by that piece of news than the Hogwarts letter.

The visual and mental image of my beloved late aunt took a drastic turn, as I tried to digest this latest 'inheritance' from her.

An unreasonable mixture of disgust and grief filled me in turns. And anger. For not telling me, or even hinting at the new world she knew I would meet someday.

After all, witches died horrible deaths whereas auntie Dorcas had "died" from a deadly disease...but it turns out she didn't die because of 'who' she was but for who she wanted to protect...she wanted to protect us...

It does sound a bit strange now when I think about it ...

The feeling was mutual for the Slytherins who resented the entry of any "aliens" on their pure-bred territory. They wanted me to leave as much as I did, and put their thoughts into actions on several occasions...

The stands burst into sporadic cheers as Dorchester blocked a well-aimed quaffle and tossed it to chaser Demetrius DePore who gave a clever tackle to Mathis near the Gryffindor post who scored a goal. Shouts of delight erupted from the stands as I glared at the trio with intense disgust.

DePore was waving his arms with a self explanatory smugness, much to the delight of his fan base below who also shared their loyal infatuations with the absent Croesus.

Scowling at the pair of them, I returned to my brooding.

The Slytherins made sure I got their customary "welcome" in the first couple of weeks. After a near fatal incident involving my head having a prolonged dip in the Lake (the argument stood that they were helping me wash something out of my hair) I had professors accompanying a select group of us "half-bloods" to all classes for a while.

All through these five years, there has been an ever increasing gap between the "half bloods" and the "pure blood" Slytherins. The latter are still smarting from the defeat of that masochistic leader of theirs : Voldermort, who had a grudge against formers like me.

This hostility is never apparent, just subtle enough to cause hallway fights and increasing segregation between us. And the gap only gets wider...

I shifted uneasily on the broom, feeling alienated by the mere touch of its surface. I was feeling a cold fury throb through my veins to the point that I didn't care who won this stupid match so long as I could give Trent and his cronies a piece of my mind.

Something glittered past me and for the second time that day I moved without thinking. The crowds had been screaming itself hoarse during the entire time of my reflection and as I sped past the scoreboard, the score read Slytherin 60 and Gryffindor 100.

It was at times like these that my mother's exasperated voice found it's way into my head, ".. you can't have looked properly, do you have eyes or potatoes? ", an unfortunate remark that seemed justified now.

Gathering speed by lying flat out, the broom whistled past blurs of moving Greens and Reds... and there it was!

The snitch was near Gryffindor keeper Archie Wood's elbow.

Suddenly, the sound of a crack from my left indicated a fast approaching bludger. I rolled out of the way but managed to catch the bludger on my tail anyway. Now I was rapidly spiraling out of control and I felt my fingers release its grip on the broom.

There was a heart stopping moment of silence. When I opened my eyes, I was in my favourite position, hanging upside down by the crooks of my knees.

A sigh of relief mingled with laughter and cheers released itself from the crowd, many of whom were anti-Croesus and in effect were rooting for my success in the game.

I forgot it all in that moment. About Slytherins, and afternoon toffees.

All that mattered now was getting the Snitch.