Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. Caroline Mandler is mine (sort of).

The Choices We Make


"Still studying, Mandler?" came Malfoy's drawl. He snatched my book out of my hands and studied it. "Practical Applications of Arithmatic Theory," he said, with the usual degree of sarcasm. "Sounds absolutely fascinating. Tell me, do you ever stop studying?"

I grabbed the book out of his hands, and glared. "Pansy tells me you only got five OWLs. My, but your father must have been proud – oops, I do believe I meant your mother. Daddy's still locked up, isn't he?" I smirked right back at him. I had long ago learned that the only way to shut Malfoy up was to give as good as I got.

"Don't talk to me that way, Mandler," he said, and the sarcasm was gone. He looked angry.

"Or what?" I asked. "You'll jinx me? You haven't outdrawn me since the boat ride over." I faked a yawn.

Malfoy has always insisted on having the last word, even when he knows he's lost the fight. "You know, you'd almost be pretty if you put down your books every now and then. But then, swotty little blowhard isn't my style." He stalked off towards his cronies, who were guffawing over a magazine I rather suspected was "Sophisticated Wizard." Typical of them, to be looking at porn.

I tried to refind my page, but I had lost it, and I hadn't really been taking any of it in. I sighed, and started to pursue my favorite pastime – imagining Granger dead in a number of horrific ways.

It was the first week back, but I was already obsessing. I had been obsessing about Granger for years now. I was the smartest girl in Slytherin, got the best marks of any in my house – but Hermione Granger got the best marks in the year. Damn her. We had even gotten the same number of OWLs, or so the rumour went; Hermione had passed all of her exams, and so had I. But darling Hermione had managed to score higher than myself on everything but Defense Against the Dark Arts, where I was beaten only by Potter. It does help, having a retired auror for a father.

I would outscore her this year though. I would pass everything with ease. I would finally best that muggle-born anomaly. Then maybe the whole school would shut up about what a genius she was. She didn't even have all that much power; I'm willing to bet I could curse her far worse than she me. She just spent all her time buried in books, when she wasn't making googly eyes at Potter. Which, I reflected, was exactly what I was doing. Damn.

I sighed, and got up. I didn't think I could concentrate on studying, and I'd finished my homework an hour before. I might as well go join Pansy Parkinson, holding court as typical, but the girl was so braindead it made my head ache. I am convinced that being around that girl literally kills brain cells.

The other alternative was to go join Theodore Nott and Gregory Tierce. Theodore was, at least, tolerable company. He was nearly as smart as myself, and could be witty, but Gregory was a real bore. He was Nott's double first cousin, and a fourth year; I think Nott Senior asked his son to keep an eye on Gregory. Greg needs it. He's as dim as a doorknob, and has about as much talent, too.

I sighed, and heaved myself out of the sagging armchair. Nott looked up as I sat down next to them, and nodded a greeting. I get the feeling he didn't mind my company overmuch, either. Gregory, as usual, started chattering. "Oh, hi, Caroline. Um, how was your summer, then? Mine was okay. My family went to Ireland, my father was looking for some illegal stuff, because, you know, He sent my dad. We picked up this wicked cool powdered cobra teeth. Theo came along too, see, his dad being, well, you know, locked up and all, and –"

"Oh, shut up," Theodore said. "Twit. Anyway, how was your summer, Mandler?"

"Not half bad. We went up to East Anglia, to visit my Grandmother. But Mum was unbearable – my brother, David, he finally decided to do it, become a Death Eater and all that. Mum's going on about what a little hero he is, and how he'll make the family proud, and what if he gets hurt in action, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera." I rolled my eyes.

Theodore grinned at me. "But you don't plan on joining the dark forces, Mandler?"

I snorted. "You already know where I stand on this, Nott. I'll admit, He-who-must-not-be-named has some useful ideas which should be implemented, but his method is all wrong. By using force to take over, rather than guile and politick, he will alienate too many who would initially agree to much of what he wishes to do. I mean, obviously the current system needs reform – when idiots like Fudge get in power, you know something's wrong – but in the end, a takeover by the Dark Lord will probably do more harm than good for the general wizarding population. Now, I'm not wholly opposed to the idea of a strong central government, with a permanent leader at its head, but it has to be implemented in such a way that –"

"Enough, enough!" Nott said, laughing. "Don't say that around Malfoy; he'll have your head. I wouldn't say that too loudly around anyone, actually; He's bound to take over some time or another, and you don't want him knowing that you didn't approve of his, ah, "campaign strategy," now do you?"

Gregory stared at us. I'm willing to bet he hadn't followed a single word of our conversation.

I sighed. I knew I got tiresome. God knows – not that there is a God, mind you – that I trotted out that speech often enough, whenever anyone asked my opinion on politics. I liked Nott, though. His father might be a Death Eater, but Nott was still a free thinker. Pity, for he'd come of age in only seven months, and then the Dark Lord would be bound to recruit him. "Sorry, mate. You know how I get."

Nott laughed. "No apologies, Caroline. So, how'd you do on your OWLs? I heard you beat the amazing muggle in something for once."

I grimaced. "I passed all my OWLs, received excellent or outstanding on all but History of Magic. I still haven't managed to come in first on anything yet. Little Miss Mudblood came in first in everything but Defense Against the Dark Arts, and goddamn Potter beat me out in that. I am so tired of coming in second to her!"

"Don't worry about it, Mandler. You're a damned good witch. Better than any of the other girls in this year. I will forever remain confused as to why they made Parkinson a prefect over you."

I smirked, and said, "Didn't you hear about that potions class? You were sick that day, but anyways, I actually corrected Snape in class. Got to it before Granger did, for once; she was chatting with Potter about some Daily Prophet article." I smirked, pleased with my little triumph. "Anyway, you can sure as hell bet Snape didn't like it. I got detention for two weeks, and he probably put in a word to Dumbledore about what a troublemaker I am. Still, it's not as if I wanted Prefect's duties – running around after the stupid first years, showing them how to tie their shoes and button their robes."

Nott laughed again. I was one of the few people who could make him laugh, and I was proud of that. "You know, Mandler, for someone who's always going on about the necessity of tact in politics, you'd think you'd know better than to correct a superior with real power over you."

I grinned. "It was worth it, though – the look on the amazing muggle's face when she realized I'd spotted it first."

Nott laughed again. "Do you ever give that a rest?"

"No!" I said. "I really cannot understand how she came to be so talented. Almost all talented wizards come from powerfully magic backgrounds. Potter's father was the best in the school, so they say, and the Black family goes way back – the turncoat Sirius was very gifted. The Dark Lord himself, or so the gossip runs, was descended from Slytherin himself. How a mudblood got to be so talented is beyond me."

Nott smirked. "Maybe her mother was screwing the milkman, so to speak."

I laughed. "Yeah, maybe. Denters make boring lovers, I guess."

"Dentists, Mandler."

"Whatever."