Disclaimer: The world and some of the characters belong to JKR, as we all know.

Author notes: In this chapter you will encounter a Slytherin gang, unfriendly, highly unpleasant, and cruel. My view on Slytherins is usually much milder (I have a huge soft spot for them) and this was an attempt to paint them in a different light. Have fun

I had never quite got tired of exploring Hogwarts. You take a wrong turn, you stumble and fall through a tapestry-covered hall in the wall - or you simply forget it's Friday, for crissake, and take the usual staircase. And there you are: at the unknown territory. Some of my house-mates would freak out, especially if they were alone. Hufflepuffs aren't skilled at surviving on their own, and that's a fact. I, on the other hand, quite enjoy those little expeditions. Sometimes when I'm bored I go a-searching for a wrong turn to take or a tapestry to fall through.

It was one of those days: days when you get a B on transfiguration test despite all the work, days when your own sister tells you not to talk to her in public because that'd ruin her reputation. What's more, it was raining and I was fourteen. You'll meet people who'll tell you it's the best age and such crap, but don't trust them. Actually, never trust what they say.

Anyway, I was off tunneling, as always when I'm pissed off. The supposedly secret passageway I was exploring at the moment was nothing special. No hidden treasures, no crazy portrets to talk to; not even a booby trap to make my day. The only reason I was still in that corridor was that I wanted to see where it led. The entrance was in the Hufflepuff Gardens (at least at Wednesday afternoons, as far as I knew), but where was the exit? The information might prove useful one day, I thought.

Exiting the passageway didn't cheer me up one bit. That special shade of gray of the cold, unornated stone, the humid air, the megalomaniacal colonades of pillars... I'd have known them anywhere. Dungeons. Damn.

You didn't go to those parts of the castle if you weren't absolutely forced to; and if you did, you definitely didn't go alone. I won't say it was dangerous as such - it was Hogwarts, after all, and we were protected - but it could be highly unpleasant, epecially if you were a Puffie and had some muggles in your near family.

The times were hard, and that was a fact; you could never be careful enough. I turned around, deciding it wasn't wise for me to be at that particular place, only to see that the doorway had disappeared. There was a stone wall there instead - as solid, cold and gray as any, and despite my touching and tapping it refused to become anything else but wall. I took out my pocket knife, not sure what I was going to do with it: stick it between the stones or something. Make the bloody passageway open up for me. The idea of walking all the way through the Slytherin-infested dungeons didn't appeal to me in the least. Nothing. The wall stayed a wall. You can't cow inanimate objects into submission. I swore loudly and kicked the bloody wall; it resulted in my toes hurting for two whole days. I should really learn to tune down my temper.

"Who's this girl talking to the wall?"

I turned around, searching for the source of the voice, and saw five largish guys with green and silver quidditch scarfs on. It was the day of Claw-Slyth quiditch match which I had gladly skipped. Most of my house were there to cheer for Ravenclaw. More the reason for me not to be there, especially after what sis had told me. She was a Claw, and I felt no reason to sit there like an idiot, cheering for the bitch and her geeky house-mates.

The guys with the scarfs seemed quite worked up, talking loudly and roughousing each other like boys do. All in all, they took much more space than five persons should. By the havoc they were causing, it seemed as if there were at least a dozen of them instead of five. Damn impressions and tricks of the light. I shuddered.

I was in the wrong place at the wrong time as usual.

"What a game!" one of them was saying. "Crabbe and Goyle should have beaten them bloody!"

"They almost did."

"Almost is the problem here. They should have done it."

"Look, there's a Puffie kid there. A girl."

"We had a better score, and then Malfoy screwed up. What kid?"

"Like he always does."

"A Hufflepuff kid here? What the hell?"

"And that dirty mudblood chick. Briggs."

Now they were talking about my sis, Elen Briggs. Some of us have normal names too (lucky bitch!). Anyway, she was the new seeker for Ravenclaw since Cho Chang finished school. She sort of kicked arse too.

"They should've kept Chang. She was easier to screw up."

"Or screw."

"Good point, Nott."

"Look! Some idiotic kiddie sneaking around our Dungeons."

They finally noticed me, which wasn't a good news at all. I was looking around frantically, but there was no visible way out. My wall was still a wall all right. If I had turned around and run I'd just have gone deeper into Dungeons ant got lost. I didn't know the terrain. They did. My way towards freedom would have to be through the five big (compared to me, at least) quidditch fans who wanted to screw up (or screw) my sister. Not that she'd mind too much, I guess. I gripped my knife harder and tryed to conceal it up my sleeve. Let it be an ace if the situation gets serious. You never know with quidditch fans, much less with Slytherins.

"Hey," I said and grinned, since they were already staring at me. They just came closer, surrounding me and making me lean against the wall.

"What have we got here?" said one who had longish brown hair. I knew them all, but I didn't remember their names. They were sixth years, I thought. "A Puffie?" He caught hold of my black and yellow medallion and pulled hard. It stayed in his hand. I did my best not to wince.

"Tell me, what's a Puffie doing here?"

"Spying, obviously," said the one with a big red pimple on his chin.

"I got lost," I said. "Good that I met someone. Is exit this way?"

I sprang and sprinted between them, hoping to catch them unawares, but I managed only a few steps. A hand clutching on my collar stopped me and almost choked me.

"Not that fast," the pimple said, turning me around. I reached barely to his chest, although he was just a year older than me. The one with long hair was still holding my medallion, but now he let it fall to the ground. Had this been a film, he'd have stepped on it. The camera would zoom his heel, and he'd step on it. But this was a Slytherin bloke, and he'd probably never seen a good, cheap muggle film, which severely restrained his drama potential. I mean, drop a medallion on the ground and not crush it with your heel? Honestly.

"What's that kid doing here?" said the one who wanted to screw my sister earlier. "Maybe she's really lost or something."

"Crap."

"What are you doing here?"

I was fourteen and a half and I wasn't a kid. Damn it, I was only a year younger than himself. On the other hand, his voice sounded sort of normal; not as psychotic as the rest, at least. I clutched on that shade of normality like a drowning man clutches on a piece of wreck.I hoped it won't turn out to be a shark fin.

"I... yeah. I was looking for Snape. Someone said he was in his quarters. I got lost.."

"She's lying."

"I bet she's been spying."

"Maybe she's telling the truth."

"Come on, Nott! She couldn't have got this far without a particular purpose in mind."

"She's a Hufflepuff, for Merlin's sake. She must be stupid like hell or something."

Anger was cooking inside me. I grabbed the hand that was still holding my collar and dug my left thumb into the soft spot on his wrist where his pulse should be if he's a human being. He gasped in surprise and sudden pain and let go of me. I should have run then.

"I am," I said instead. "Stupid like an arse. Like all Hufflepuffs. Which is probably just helped by the fact that I'm a dirty mudblood."

It wasn't courage. It was plain inability to hold anything back and a strange tendency to say the wrongest thing possible only because I know it would piss the other person off. Maybe they were right. Maybe I was stupid.

"Look, it can talk," said the pimple.

One of them grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled. Hard. He continued holding me that way, my face turned up to look at them, my neck and scalp hurting.

"What are we going to do to it, what d'ya think?"

"Kill it."

"No, that would get us expelled. Maim it."

"Torture it until it squeaks."

"Can anyone do any unforgivables? Nott?"

Okay, I knew they didn't quite mean all of it. I mean, it was Hogwarts for crissake, they couldn't get away with such. And yet, the feeling wasn't pleasant, to put it mildly. My left hand frantically searched for my wand, while my right was still clutching onto my pocket knife. I'm righthanded and the search went lamely.

"Looking for this?"

The long haired one pulled my wand out of my right breast pocket. Damn.

"Shall I snap it in half?"

"Look, the mudblood wanted to hex us! Let's make it beg for forgiveness."

Grammar is a wonderful thing, but how do you explain the concept of genders to a bunch of bullying Slytherins?

"Let's go," said the one who wanted to screw my sis and whose name seemed to be Nott or something. "This is boring."

"No. Let's make it eat dirt."

"I hear my sis kicked your arse bigtime," I said through my teeth. My scalp was hurting. Bad. "Ravenclaw team sucks, but she still kicked your arse. Elen Briggs."

The wrongest thing in the world to say at that moment. But how their faces went red!

"That bitch!"

"Dirty mudblood bitch!"

Now, my sister is tall, dark-haired, with stunning blue eyes, and she's a great seeker. I'm short, my eyes are boring brown, and I get sick from just thinking about broomsticks. She's a Ravenclaw star. I'm a Puffie outcast. She's smart like hell. I'm 'hardworking', thank you very much. She's popular. I'm loyal. So, how could I not hate her? I wished I had a brother instead. Oh how I longed for a brother! And yet...

I turned my head around despite the tearing pain in my scalp and bit into the wrist of the hand that held me. He let go of my hair and I punched him in the stomach with my left. My right hand was still holding the knife firmly, but I didn't think it was that time yet. This was the second moment I could have turned around and run. I didn't.

"No one calls..." I managed before the slap in the face darkened my vision. I picked myself up from the floor, vagely aware that my nose was bleeding, my throat ready for growling. I wouldn't let them hear me cry in pain, I wouldn't!

"The only person that calls my sister a bitch is me!" I finished, glaring at them and having a short fantasy about being Bruce Lee. I would raise my hand to my mouth, lick a finger, then look at it. Seeing that my mouth was also bleeding, I'd go berserk. I'd kick their pathetic arses.

But, I wasn't Bruce Lee. I wasn't even Smilla from Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow, who could make a guy squeak by twisting his little finger or his nose.

Two of the guys laughed and started towards me. It wouldn't do to wait for them.

I leaped towards one of them and ran right into his fist. Which didn't stop me from connecting the heel of my palm with his nose. I'd heard you could kill a man that way, if you struck from below and made his nose bone enter his brain. Well, I was eager to try. The bloke squealed and I was vaguely aware of something warm and wet on my hand. I hoped it was blood and not snot, but didn't have time to check. I found myself slammed against a wall, and then a slap came. This time I didn't fall, due to the fact that he was holding me up by the front of my robes. Another slap.

"That's enough, Riley," I heard someone say.

"I'm bleeding. Kill the bitch, Riley. Look, I'm bleeding!"

I bleed much more every freakin' month, as every girl does, and it hurts worse, and I don't even whine, I thought.

Then I kicked the guy in the groin. Or, more accurately, I tried. If I hit the right spot, than he didn't react the way guys in films do when you crush their balls. But I had probably aimed my knee too low. I really need to find me a boyfriend and get some decent anatomy education, or else I'll never know where to kick.

This time it wasn't a slap. It was a punch, right in my stomach, and I bent over and folded on the stone floor. The thing I was thinking about wasn't pain. If you think about pain while you're fighting, you won't make it. I concentrated on the knife in my right hand, on not losing it, and not hurting myself with it while I fell.

I lay on the ground without motion, hoping one of them will get scared that I was really hurt and come to check. Than I would stab him. It was the knife time, finally. I didn't give a damn about the consequences of my actions. I just wanted to hurt someone for this. Badly.

But these weren't normal people; they were Slytherins. The only reason for someone to approach me would be to kick me while I was lying on the ground. I was prepared for that situation too, though. I've red Hemingway and I knew that if you stabbed someone in the loin, they would probably bleed to death before you could get any help. And I wanted blood.

"No," said the voice that had tryed to stop Riley earlier. I opened the one eye that still wasn't swollen and saw it was the one who wanted to screw my sister earlier. The one who honoured me with doubt when the others assumed I was there to spy. Nott. "That's really enough. You'll get into trouble. You already are in trouble for this. If you continue, you'll get expelled."

"You meen, we will, Nott," said another voice with a leer. "We are in this together, aren't we?"

"I'll teach the bitch not to talk," said the pimple and started towards me.

"No you won't," said the one whose name was Nott, and he said it in a low, dangerous voice, stepping in his way. "You'll do nothing of the sort. You will turn around and go back to the common room and forget about this."

His back was turned towards me, but by the motion of his elbow I guessed he had his wand out, pointed at his friends. Why?

"Who do you think you are, Not?" said the long hair, taking his wand out. His voice was somewhat muffled because he was covering his bleeding nose with a handkerchief. I hoped it was broken.

"You want to fight me?" Not said threateningly, his voice still very low and calm. "Come on. I'm waiting. Only, I can take all four of you one-handed, and you know it. If you walk away now, I'll forget about this. If you don't - you might not wake up tomorrow morning. Think. Hard."

The torches cast shadows on the faces of the four boys whom I could see. Was it fear their faces showed? Four against one, and they are still afraid? They were all staring at Nott, and I had the impression an invisible battle of wills was taking place.

"This is boring," said the long hair finally, looking away. "Let's go."

"Her wand."

Long hair took my wand out of his pocket and cast it to Nott who caught it. Then he turned around and just walked away, not looking back. The others grumbled but followed. Nott didn't move. He followed them with his gaze until they disappeared, hidden by a curve of the corridor.

Then he turned around. I expected him to do things people usually do in those situations. To ask if I was all right. To reach his hand out and help me up. He did nothing, though, just continued looking at me, his face unreadable. I was quite grateful for this. I didn't like being helped up. I was perfectly capable of standing up myself.

Well, with the help of the wall.

"What's that in your hand?" he said, and I was aware my knife was showing.

"Nothing."

"Your nothing seems pretty sharp."

"What would you have done if they didn't go away?"

He shrugged.

"Hexed them. Hurt them. But they wouldn't dare attack me. They are afraid of me."

"I'd choose to call it respect," I said. "Sounds better."

"Elen Briggs really your sister?"

I nodded.

"She's a bloody snob," he said. "I hate her."

"So do I."

"Would you really have cut somebody up with that knife?"

"I don't know. Probably. If I managed. I never tryed."

He just shook his head.

"You're a bloody fool. Let me tell you something. Whatever you were doing here... stay out. Don't come to the Dungeons. If you'd take one more advice, don't go anywhere alone for a time. They'll want revenge. And don't even think about going to a teacher. Cause I'll kill you."

He turned and started walking away.

"Hey," I said. "Thanks for the help. Really. I mean... Thanks."

He just looked at me over his shoulder.

"Oh, shut up. I probably won't survive the night in the dorm because of you."

He continued walking.

"Hey," I shouted after him. "What's the big deal? You just need to threaten them in the right way and to cow them into submission. You're good at that. I saw it."

He turned on his heel and stared at me. Long.

"Aren't you supposed to be a Hufflepuff or something?"

"I was one last time I checked, yeah. Why?"

"How would you know about threatening, then? It's not supposed to be your way."

Why did he care, anyway? And yet, he had saved me, and I probably owed him an explenation at least.

"You see..." I said, having absolutely no idea how to continue. Have you ever tried to explain your entire personality, models of behaviour and drives in a single sentence? "No, let me ask you one thing first. Have you ever known a Hufflepuff?"

He rolled his eyes.

"What's there to know? Loyal, hardworking, nice all over. That kind of shit."

"No, I mean really known. Like, talked to them more than 'Get out of my way'?"

"No. Should I?"

"No. I just wanted to say that, if you had done it, you would probably have noticed one thing. Hufflepuffs are herd animals. They are fiercely loyal to you, yes. But you have to be like them. You have to be... well, hardworking, loyal and, yeah, nice all over, basically. They don't accept any differences. I mean, if you are different, there must be something wrong with you. You will fit in or you'll suffer, if you know what I mean."

Nott smiled a tad.

"Sounds more like Slytherins to me. I can't really imagine Puffies actually bullying anyone."

"Not the way you think, no. But they'd be all nice to you, and try to help you fit in. They'd want to adjust you to their perception of how a Hufflepuff is supposed to behave." I was getting angrier and angrier, as always when I think of this. "If you are not all friendly and sappy and kind to everyone, you don't deserve to live. You must be changed. If you don't want their help it means you deserve it even more. It's unbearable. I hate them all."

"I can imagine."

"No. No you can't. I mean, I know I'm a sociopath. I just want them to leave me to enjoy my sociopathy in peace and loneliness."

"So... when they are pestering you, you threaten and cow them into submission, like you adviced me to do?" He laughed out.

"Yeah. They are afraid of me. They... dislike me. Very much so, actually. I'd have used 'hate' if we weren't talking about Hufflepuffs. But they've learned to leave me alone most of the time."

Nott kept silent for a while, and I thought our conversation was over or something. I was about to excuse myself and walk away, when he spoke again.

"You know..." he said slowly, "I can sort of understand what you are saying. Because that's the way things are in Slytherin, more or less. And... the only way to make them leave you alone is make them afraid of you. I... well, you saw for yourself."

I nodded, and felt my head spin slightly. My face hurt all over, and I was sick from the punch in the stomach. I also thought I must have thumped my haid against the floor or something when I fell. I leaned against the wall and concentrated on staying up. It would be really humiliating to faint after all that had happened.

"Can you walk for yourself?"

"I guess?" I said.

"I'd better accompany you to the entrance hall or something. I wouldn't be surprised if they are waiting for you somewhere along the way."

"Why are you helping me?"

He shrugged.

"Why not?"

"You are a Slytherin and all."

"That's a stereotype, just like the one about Puffies."

"So," I said after we had walked for a time. "So you are an outcast too. I actually thought you were quite popular."

"Not popular, not exactly. But they know it's better not to mess with me. They know it pays better to be friendly towards me and leave me alone. Once you have acquired a status in Slytherin, you can do quite well..."

"It's like that everywhere, I think. What's your name, anyway?"

He turned to look at me, as if I had asked him a terribly personal question or something.

"Why?" he said finally.

"Don't worry, I don't long for an unnecessary intimization or anything. Just... asking."

"All right. Theodor Nott. You?"

"Weirden Briggs."

"Excuse me?"

I was used to that sort of reactions, of course. One would be, with a shitty name like mine.

"Weirden," I snapped. "Like 'weird'. Weirden."

"Oh, Gods. Why?"

This was the answer I had given hundreds of times, and it wasn't surprising that I sounded very tired.

"A consequence of living in a small Welsh willage, with only a half-literate nurse to attend to your mother at giving birth. It wen't okay with Elen - I mean, you'd really have to be a moron to misspell 'Elen'. But my parents wanted their second kid called 'Viridian', of all things. Freaks."

"I thought you said..."

"I did. It is 'Weirden'. The stupid nurse asked Dad what name he wanted on my birth certificate, and he said Viridian. The nurse wrote 'Weirden'. I mean, we didn't even find out until I started at the local school."

"So... you are... muggle-born?"

It was obvious he wasn't used to saying 'muggle-born'. In Slytherin language, that was 'mudblood'.

"Halfblood," I said. "Mum's a Horton from Sommerset."

"Halfblood," he said. "Gods."

"You have a problem with that?"

He stopped to look at me.

"Of course. Of course I do. That's just disgusting. I mean, a pureblood witch having... ew."

"Would you spare me your opinion on the subject?"

"You asked for my opinion."

"It was more of a rhetorical question. How comes you fancy Elen if you mind our bloodline anyway?"

"Who said I fancied Elen? I said I hated her. She's such a..."

"You said you wanted to screw her. I heard you."

"That's got nothing to do with fancying."

"I bet you asked her out. I bet she refused."

"She told you about it?"

"No. But I'll take it as an affirmative."

"You know, " he said. "If you were my housemate, I'd hate you too."

"You at least have the courage to say that to my face."

"Bruised and disfigured as it is, yeah."

"I didn't walk into a door, you know."

"Speaking of which," he said, "I think you broke Berkley's nose."

"Too bad. I was actually trying to kill him. You know, if you hit somebody's nose with the heel of your palm, his nose bone will..."

"I know. You are sick, Briggs."

"Thanks."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"As if you wouldn't want to do the same. If someone attacked you that way, I mean."

"If I ran into a bunch of guys, I wouldn't provoke like you did. I mean, are you stupid or what?"

"Don't forget I'm a Puffie."

"I'm not buying that crap. Why did you do it?"

I felt the dizziness again and stopped for a moment, leaning on the wall, breathing deeply. He made as if to reach for me, and then drew his hand back. I had an impression that the guy had serious issues when it came to touching people.

"Why would I tell you?" I said, feeling a bit better.

"Because I bloody saved your arse."

"And I'm grateful for it. More interesting question is why you helped me."

"I asked you first."

"All right. Look, it's... it's difficult to explain, all right."

"You acted like a bloody Gryffindor."

"No. They're supposed to be curageous. I'm not. I was just... angry. Very very angry."

"You should learn to control your anger then, Briggs. If you can't, you should learn how to fight properly. Riley and the gang were surprised, that's why you lasted as long as you did. I could have taken you in two seconds."

Had I been Elen, I'd have looked at him with my stunning blue eyes, batted my eyelashes, and said something on the lines with 'Will you teach me how to fight?' But I wasn't Elen, obviously.

"One-handed," I said. "I've heard you boasting before."

"Well, it's true. And your knife is worth nothing if you don't know how to use it."

"Your turn, Nott."

"Excuse me?"

"I told you why I fought... tried to fight your mates. Now you tell me why you helped me."

He chuckled.

"Maybe because you're Elen Briggs's sister. Maybe I hoped you'd say a kind word for me."

"I'm not buying that for one moment."

"Oh, all right. To put it simply... I've always had a soft spot for people who dare stand up to Riley and the gang. No matter the house... or anything."

"You know," I said, "I think you're kind of cool."

Nott stopped, threw his head back, and laughed like hell.

"You're so stupid," he said finally, but didn't sound all that unfriendly. "Look, we're there. Entrance Hall. You'd better go before someone sees us together."

"Oh," I said, "That would ruin your reputation, right? Maybe you should date Elen, you know. You two kinda deserve each other."

"Now that wasn't very nice."

"Oh. Hell. You can go tell on me to my housemates."

"I'd better go face the dormatory inferno now. And it's all your fault, Briggs."

"Sorry. You'll handle it, though. Just threaten and be dangerous. They won't dare come near."

He smiled, and I made my big mistake. I clapped him on the upper hand. In a friendly way. Maybe there was a reason I had ended up in Hufflepuff, after all.

Nott glared at the spot where I had touched him, all friendly cynism suddenly having disappeared from his eyes. Than he shifted his gaze to my face, regarding me as if I was some kind of leper. His eyes made me want to squirm.

"Don't you do that ever again, mudblood."

It was the same low voice he had used on Riley and the mates previously. Than he turned and walked away.

"Hey, Nott," I yelled after him. "Take a good shower. Soap should make my contagious touch harmless. If not, you can always use alcohol. Rub it really hard and it'll go away."

I felt sort of hurt, though, although I knew that was very stupid of me. That's what you get when you try to be nice to a Slytherin. Oh, to hell with that. That's what you get when you try to be nice to anyone.

Author notes: Next chapter is due soon. BTW, this isn't going to be a many-chaptered story (I see two more chapters at the moment).

Please please review. I'm an unexperienced writer, and am not a native English speaker, so your comments on my English as well as the story itself would be very much appreciated.

And now I've gone all formal and stuff. Darn ;)