Chapter Eleven-Wands, Writing, and Wishful Thinking

"And then, I grabbed the vampire, like this-" Lockhart took hold of Millicent Bulstrode's swooning face, "-who, by the way, could have seriously used one of my acne products-" Lockhart stopped to quickly advertise-"-Lockhart'sAcneBottleRecipeNumberFivebytheway-and I pulled him into an alley to finish him off!"

I yawned, my head resting on the desk. It was finally Friday, and I'd thankfully already finished the essay on Lockhart's vampire/hair care products class as he animatedly forced Millicent to act out the scene with him.

The bell rang, and everyone lunged for their bags to storm out the door.

"Hey, I wasn't finished!" Lockhart said cheerfully. "Well, cliffhanger then! See you next class!"

"It's the weekend," I moaned happily, spooning food onto my plate at dinnertime. "Finally."

There was a general murmur of agreement.

"No classes with Lockhart for two days," Pansy sighed as Blaise sat down next to her.

"That's a good thing," Daphne said sharply. "He may be good looking, but he couldn't teach us anything."

I nodded in agreement, sipping pumpkin juice.

"Who cares?" Pansy winked in Lockhart's direction at the teacher table.

Lockhart, who we all turned to look at, happened to turn around and flashed us a brilliant smile, blowing the Slytherins a kiss. I grimaced and scooted away.

"Watch it," Theodore warned as I jostled his elbow.

"You try getting winked at and blown kisses by a self absorbed teacher," I said, throwing him a napkin to clean his elbow, which had been nudged into a platter of butter.

O-O

It was Saturday, and I woke early to finish my homework. I wanted to finish all of it so I could visit Hermione, Harry and Ron, but as I walked to the Great Hall, Theodore was already on his feet and leaving. There were a few teachers there-Snape was one of them. He raised his eyebrows at me, and I gave a little wave, striding towards Theodore.

"Woken up so early?" Theodore frowned.

"Could say the same for you," I shrugged, watching him pull a few books into his bag; he'd been reading as he ate, the big space in the Hall giving him room.

"Heard there was Quidditch Practice; I wanted to go watch." Theodore said, and his eyes lit up slightly in childish excitement.

I smiled. "I didn't think you liked Quidditch."

"I'm okay at it; I like to watch and observe instead of play." Theodore showed me the meticulous notes he'd taken of the Slytherin team's play. "Sometimes Flint-he's captain-comes to me for notes on the players."

"Like football," I said, watching the diagram of a formation. There was a loopy handwriting shadowing Theodore's spiky, neat ones which I assumed to be Flint's, noting the formation pros and cons. Harry's name showed up several times-something about trying to stop him from getting the Snitch.

"Whatever that is," Theodore placed the notes back into a neat pile and pocketed it in a folder. "I'll see you later."

I nodded, and as he left, I spread out my half-done essays and propped up a new Lockhart book.

Plop.

"What the-" I leaned over and scooped up the black notebook. I turned the book over and saw the words on the spine.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Was this my book? I checked the Lockhart book, and sure enough in the book was labeled, in my handwriting, Rowan Snape. Who'd put this in here?

I cracked open the book, hoping it wasn't some poor student's diary. But the pages were empty.

I hesitated for a second before rummaging through my bag for a quill and ink. Dipping the quill in the ink clumsily, I pressed the tip to the first blank page.

My name is Rowan.

The words seemed to sink into the book, and I raised my eyebrows, chewing on a mouthful of bacon and looking to my essays. It was a perfectly good notebook.

But when I looked back to the notebook, the words on the page were:

s Rowan.

And then:

Rowan.

owan.

wan.

an.

n.

.

I stared. The words had disappeared. Faded into the paper. But the book wasn't done.

Hello, Rowan. My name is Tom.

Abandoning my essays, I brought the book up onto the table. How does this work?

It's magic. Who are you, Rowan?

I'm a student in Hogwarts. Who does this notebook belong to? I'd like to give it back to the creator.

Oh, there's no need. Rowan, this book is yours now. I'm here for you if you want to talk.

Thank you. It felt strange to have someone write back. I wondered if there was another student in this school with another notebook, talking to me.

I shut the book, but instantly I felt the odd pull to it; I wanted to talk to it again. Tom, the nice boy in the book who I could tell all-

Wait, what?

I shook my head and put the book in the bag. I'd been doing too many essays, I surmised. Maybe I'd visit Harry or Ginny or Fred and George or maybe even Ron-

Or Snape.

I hadn't thought about him all week; in class he didn't speak to me; when I raised my hand it was only after Hermione or sometimes Theodore; he either ignored me or called on Theodore.

Do I need to ask permission for things? I wondered in bewilderment. Permission to go outside with my friends?

Permission to talk to some weird guy in my new notebook?

I snorted. I could just imagine the conversation. But I could just imagine the conversation if I didn't ask.

Glancing over at the table to see Snape leaving, I stuffed everything in my bag and a biscuit in my mouth before hurrying after him.

He'd left the Great Hall by passing by me, and I hurried behind him, unsure what to say. "Hey-Professor?"

"Must you bother me so early in the morning?" Snape sighed.

"No, I-" I flushed. "I just wanted to ask if-could I go out and-"

Snape raised an eyebrow, walking to the direction of his office. "Why do you need to ask if you can go outside? I trust you can travel safely outside?"

"Yeah, but I didn't know if I was supposed to as-"

"Next time, don't bother asking me such idiotic questions," Snape rolled his eyes, and quickened his pace. I stopped abruptly, watching his figure fade into the dark doorway to his office, oddly stung. Ouch.

Well, fine. I pivoted and stalked outside, furious. See how he liked it when I went to the quidditch pitch and forgot to finish his potions essay.

But when I finally stormed onto the Quidditch Pitch, I had to duck as a dark-haired person skidded just above me on a broom. "Hey!"

"Rowan?" The dark-haired person yanked his broom around, green eyes glittering in surprise. "What-you can't be on the Quidditch Pitch, we're having practice." I ducked a red ball and whipped my head around to see Fred waving apologetically, pointing to George with the ball now in his hands on the other side.

A tall, weedy person who quite resembled a broom himself skidded up to me. "Who is this, Harry? I don't like it. She's a Slytherin; I don't want them spying."

"She's also right here," I said testily. "Who're you?"

"Captain of the Gryffindor Team, Oliver Wood," Oliver Wood said proudly. He scrutinized me. "You're that new Snape kid, aren't you? I really don't like it. You can't be here."

I rolled my eyes as Harry darted his eyes at Oliver. "I'm Rowan. And I don't need to spy on you guys."

"Why not?" Oliver frowned, Fred and George flying up behind him.

"I thought the Slytherin Team was playing today. Theodore Nott told me he'd be taking notes for Flint." I jerked my head behind them. "Look, they're coming right now."

"No!" Oliver hissed, turning to watch the green-uniformed Slytherins with broomsticks marching on field. "I booked-I booked the field!" He was sputtering in outrage.

He zoomed towards the Slytherins, with Fred, George, and Harry in tow, and I sprinted after them, yelping as the red ball George tossed behind his back smacked my shoulder and bounced off.

A pretty girl behind me swooped in to catch it. "George has a tendency to do that," she rolled her eyes. "Sorry."

"It's fine," I rolled my shoulder, and followed her on her broom to Oliver. "I'm Rowan; you're on the Gryffindor team?"

"Yes," she called. "I'm Angelina; those two over there are Katie and Alicia." She nodded back at the two other girls following her on brooms.

By the time I got to Oliver and the group of teams, things were heated. Ron and Hermione had trampled their way onto the field and were flanking Harry.

"But I booked the field!" Oliver hollered, face purpling. "I booked it!"

"Sure," said a grinning Flint, his features troll-ish and cunning. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker'. "

"New See-" Oliver spun around to glare at me. "You! You filthy, sneaky Slytherin Seeker!"

I wiped the spit from my forehead and held up both hands. "I'm not the Seeker; if you've seen me on a broom you'd know."

"I have," Draco Malfoy said amusedly, stepping forward in his green Slytherin Quidditch robes and flashy broom. "And I do know. I'm the Seeker."

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

I looked closer. Every single Slytherin on the team was holding the same flashy broomstick as Draco, with the golden script Nimbus Two Thousand and One scrawled across the handle. Fred and George clutched their slightly splintered Cleansweep Fives defensively.

"Maybe you could sell off some of those dusty antiques your grandmother uses to clean the floor," Draco sneered, flaunting his broom with a smirk. "I reckon a museum would buy one; maybe then you'd be able to have your whole family sleep in two rooms and not one."

I covered a hand over my mouth. That was a low blow; I could see Fred and George's ears reddening, their faces flushing. Ron glared furiously.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," Hermione snapped, flicking a loose strand of bushy brown hair away from her face. "They got in on pure talent."

I raised my eyebrows, hiding a small smile. Draco's face grew furious, and I had a sudden feeling of nostalgia at his face. I realized what he was going to say seconds before he did it.

"Nobody asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood!"

It was immediate chaos. Fred and George leapt forward furiously, and Flint jumped in front of Draco to keep him from being tackled. Ron roared furiously and drew his wand.

Can't we just-agree to disagree, or something?

Fine.

So much about fine. I stared at Draco, eyes narrowed, and as he turned to smirk at me, he gave his shoulders a bounce-the tiniest of shrugs. And what are YOU doing to do about it?

Nothing. I couldn't do anything; I'd get Theodore hexed, I'd be alone for the entire next five years of my life. I wanted to tear my hair out in helpless frustration, and Draco knew it.

"How dare you!" Alicia shrieked, raising a finger to shake it furiously at a Flint-covered Draco.

"You'll pay for that, Malfoy!" Ron yelled, pulling out his wand.

"Ron, wait-" I shouted, seeing the taped wand. There was a loud bang and a green light, sending Ron toppling into the grass.

Harry and I shared identical mortified looks as Hermione ran over to Ron. Ron sat up, curly red hair sticking up in different directions, and tried to spit out grass. But instead of grass, grass-flecked slugs came sliding out with a belch. Ron groaned and turned aside to puke another round of slugs.

I stumbled back, hand still over my mouth, this time in disgust. The slugs were about the size of my entire thumb, glistening in the sun, and nobody wanted to touch him. Slytherins were doubled over in laughter. Gross.

"Come on," Theodore was at my side; he was out of breath and clutching pieces of his notes. He pulled at my sleeve. "You're about to explode on Draco."

I breathed heavily through my nose. "Were you watching me?"

"Someone has to make sure you don't mess up," Theodore hissed. "This is my reputation on the line, too."

I nudged him away from me with a silent snarl. He smirked, eyes mischievously amused.

"Come on, Rowan," Harry said. He moved towards the slug-puking redhead, and I grimaced before stepping forward with him, shrugging off Theodore's hand on my sleeve.

"You there, new girl," Flint called. "Why don't you, eh, help Nott with our notes? This field is ours." He gave another trollish grin.

"Not a good idea to help Weasley," Draco sniggered. "You won't be able to tell the difference between the slugs and Potter."

"Rowan?" Harry frowned, sliding Ron's arm over his shoulder and lifting him, Hermione picking up his dropped wand with a squeak, tossing off a slug on it.

"Come on, Rowan," Theodore put a hand on my arm, and I didn't shake him off this time.

Harry stared at me, his face flickering in doubt. Rowan?

"I-I'll see you later," I stammered, face red. I felt horrible; the pit in my stomach grew ten times its previous size and began to gnaw at my insides.

"Get out of our pitch, Gryffindors," Flint pushed his broom forward so it gave Oliver's a small tap, but it was enough to purple Oliver's face even more as he stormed away with the team.

Hermione had gotten it already, quicker than Harry. "Come on, Harry."

I swallowed, Flint's eyes on me the whole time. "Yeah, run along to your girlfriend."

The Slytherin Team burst out laughing again, and Hermione pulled Harry and Ron along.

"Brilliant," Flint ordered. "Come on, start practice. Nott and Snape, you two go take notes."

I trudged to the benches with Theodore slowly, dragging my feet. Theodore turned around to snag a fluttering note in the air. "Hurry up, there's slugs everywhere."

"I feel like a slug," I muttered, flopping down on the bench and watching the flying Slytherins. "Theodore, I feel like that wasn't a great thing to do."

"Listen, Snape," Theodore turned to look me in the eye, and I knew he was serious. "Sooner or later you were going to have to pick a side. This one ensures you live."

He was sort of right. I didn't have much of a choice.

"I just don't understand you," Theodore set up his ink and quill, scrawling a note on the parchment, the serious moment gone.

"I don't either," I said. "But hopefully they do."

O-O

I couldn't catch Harry, Hermione, Ron, or even Ginny the whole day. I'd been looking for a while, but it seemed they were either avoiding me or I just had horrible luck.

And Lockhart-it seemed that he had taken my dislike for him as a personal challenge-I was one of the only girls who wasn't completely in love with him (though most of the girls who weren't were in Slytherin), and gave me a cheery wave with a wink whenever I saw him.

"I wonder if this is illegal," I told Theodore as he leaned against the stone wall, watching Lockhart sprint towards me with a beam and another wink. "Doesn't he have a girlfriend who'll be jealous?"

"He's single," Theodore said promptly. "If you haven't noticed in his subtle hints in his books."

"Miss Snape, we do seem to be bumping into each other quite often!" Lockhart said cheerily, easily slinging an arm around my shoulder. I sent Theodore a help me look, but he slipped away with an unapologetic shrug when it became clear Lockhart was not about to let me go.

"Well, if you are so eager, perhaps I can spare some time for you," Lockhart grinned, flashing a toothy smile. He flaunted his robes as he stepped off the staircase, and I followed resignedly.

"Come in, then," He beckoned to his Lockhart-filled office. The pictures on his wall all screamed silently in excitement and waved, grinning another flawlessly annoying smile.

"A special quill, I do think," Lockhart said, rummaging through for a purple quill with blue ink. He had to get on his tiptoes to snag a paper picture of him grinning and waving on the top shelf.

"Couldn't you just use magic for that, Professor?" I asked.

Lockhart froze mid-smile, before unfreezing and sliding to his seat. "It's always good to give magic a little rest and stretch my bones a little bit, Miss Snape." He gave his quill a flourishing loop and the paper read Love, Gilderoy.

"Thanks," I muttered. I could use it to feed the fire in the Slytherin Common Room.

The door knocked. Lockhart looked up, startled. "Who is that?" He gave me a wink as he opened the door.

"Ah, here's the scalawag!" he said. "Come in, Harry, come in, I forgot you were to come today-"

Harry?

"Ah, sorry, lost track of time there, Miss Snape," Lockhart smiled at me. "Harry's here to serve 'detention'." he waggled his fingers in quotations before laughing and herding me out. I turned around to look at Harry's surprised but upset face before the door closed.

I stood at the door, my heart beating fast and mind confused. It was Harry. I'd been looking for him all day, I might as well stay and wait for his detention to be over. How long could it be, anyway?

Sliding to the ground, I stared at the stone wall, minutes snailing by. Grabbing my bag, I pulled out the black book and a quill with some ink.

Hey, this is Rowan.

The words faded. Hello, Rowan. It's Tom, of course.

I dipped ink. Who are you? Are you from this school?

I'm in a notebook; I'm not real. Tom replied. But as I said, I'm here to talk when you need to. Anything to say?

Well, it was only a notebook. Well, my friend Harry is upset at me. But he shouldn't be, Tom.

You're such a kind person, you couldn't have done anything on purpose. What happened? I could only hope Harry would be as understanding as Tom. A notebook.

I told him the story, and why I'd done it.

Well, that's not your fault, Tom said, and I imagined a kind voice speaking to me in soft tones. And I'm not judging Harry, but well, he's Harry Potter, isn't he?

Yes, but how did you know?

Harry's probably used to the fame and people agreeing with him all the time. Your act probably threw him off.

I've been meaning to ask for so long. Why is Harry famous?

You don't know?

No, I was raised by muggles and nobody told me.

Harry's one of the most famous people in the Wizarding World. There was an extremely powerful wizard by the name of You-Know-Who, and he came to the Potters to kill the family. Mother and father were killed but by a foolish mistake the last curse on Harry rebounded and he lived.

I almost dropped the book. How could Harry not tell me this? He never told me.

It sounds like he just expects you to know about him, Tom wrote, and I imagined his words coming out gently and quiet. It isn't necessarily his fault; some people just are like that, much like Lockhart.

It sounded nothing like Harry, and at the same time made so much sense. At the time, Tom was the only person who seemed to truly be on my side, and truly understand my feelings. I felt closer to him than I'd ever been with any other magical person I'd met so far at that time.

Thank you.

Of course. You can ask me anything, and I promise I will not conceal any secrets from you, Rowan.

Wow. I sat back, but had no time to ponder this when the door opened.

Harry was so surprised to see me he nearly forgot to be upset. "You! Wha-you're still here?"

I slammed my book into my bag, sending my quill and ink clattering away on the ground as I stood. "You're famous? What, did you think defeating a great and powerful wizard as an infant was a little detail you would miss out on telling me? Oh, hello, I'm Harry and a perfectly normal wizard?"

"How did you find out?" Harry frowned, eyes narrowed in green slits.

"That's not important." I stepped closer, eyes as narrowed as his. "The point is you didn't tell me something so important!"

"I don't think you have the right to be angry at me," Harry stepped back, not out of guilt but anger. He seemed a little disappointed. "I didn't think we were friends."

"What-why?" I spluttered, a few black strands of hair from my pulled back ponytail falling into my eyes.

Harry brushed his fringe down absentmindedly. "What was all that on the field today?"

"Harry, as much as I want to, you know I can't defend-"

"Why not?" Harry cut in angrily. "Are we just the friends you defend when you don't have any more?"

The portraits on the walls shook a little in his anger, and the people in them ran away with little whimpers.

"No!" I exclaimed, frustrated. "I just want to fit in with both groups! If I defend you guys, then they'll hate me!"

"You're a hypocrite," Harry realized. "You were furious with me for not sticking up for you, and then you turn your back on us and stab me in the back. You're such a...Slytherin!"

"I am not!" I yelled, trying to keep my voice down. My own magic exploded, shaking the frames even more. "I'm not a hypocrite!"

"So why'd you insult us?" Harry asked. "Telling me to run off with my girlfriend? Why's Malfoy got your friendship now?"

"It's not my fault you've befriended a blood-traitor and a mudblood!"

Oh, Merlin.

"I didn't mean that," I said quickly, seeing Harry's gobsmacked and hurt expression. "I swear to Merlin, Harry, I didn't. I only just learned what those words meant, I didn't mean it-"

"I know," Harry said bitterly, his voice even more furious. "You just want to fit in. Well, you do now."

"I thought you'd understand. You guys are my friends; I just don't want to sabotage my chances of making more, don't you see?"

"No. I don't, Snape."

It was horrible. I wanted to cry and punch him at the same time; I felt guilty and betrayed all in one swirling minute.

"If you want me to defend you, you have to earn it," I said coolly, and the temperature of the corridor dipped down several degrees as we glared at each other frostily. "And you haven't, Potter. So I suppose you're right for once in your life; we aren't friends."

"If that's the way you want it," Harry turned, shouldering his bag. I hated him. Hated his bright green eyes, his unruly black mop of hair, the way he shook his fringe on top of his forehead like he had messy, choppy bangs.

"Maybe I am a hypocrite," I called at his retreating back. "But at least I'll fit in."

"By calling people blood-traitors and mudbloods?" Harry whirled around one last time, blazing eyes. "They aren't even your friends. They'll take advantage of you and rip you down when you're not useful anymore. I don't need to be in Slytherin to know that."

"Yeah, you do," I said frostily. "You need to be in it to judge. See you tomorrow, Potter."

"Wait, Ro-Snape," Harry said, but his voice has changed into a wary one. "Did you hear anything while you were here?"

"Except for the portraits arguing? No," I said with a sneer. "Are you going crazy now, too?"

"Nothing?" Harry pressed. "Not even a little bit? Maybe a voice coming from the walls, a little raspy?"

"No,"I said, both alarmed and annoyed. "What was the voice saying?"

"Come...come to me," Harry said quietly, stepping close to me now. "Let me rip you, or kill you, or something?"

I gaped for a moment before it hit me. "Are you serious?" I demanded. "What do you think you're doing, playing a stupid joke on me?"

We were nose to nose, and I glared fiercely, shoving him away from me. "Leave me alone, Potter."

O-O

It was extremely evident to everyone that I'd separated from the Gryffindors. From breakfast beginning to end, Harry had on a furious expression when we glanced at each other. Hermione wore one of disbelief and disappointment, while Ron had on his annoying "I knew it" smug expressions, angry at me for Harry.

On the other hand, I'd been completely and utterly accepted by the Slytherins. They had a satisfied air when talking to me, if not treating me like an ally.

"Anyone willing to let me copy their History essay?" Blaise said lazily over crunching bacon. "Binns never checks."

He looked over at me. "Oi, Snape, quit writing in your diary and let me copy yours."

I shut the book and ended the conversation I was having with Tom. "It's only Sunday; Binns said it wasn't due until Wednesday."

"I thought it was Monday," Crabbe said confusedly.

"Wednesday," Theodore said, eyes fixed on a new book.

Blaise shrugged. "Let me have a look then, Snape?"

"No," I said with raised eyebrows. "I'm not letting you cheat off of me."

"Ah, the nobility of a Gryffindor," Blaise mocked. I stilled, and felt Theodore dart his eyes to me swiftly.

"Sore subject?" Blaise said innocently, flicking a spoon over at the Gryffindor table, sending flecks of pancake crumbs at Daphne, who snarled at him.

"Fine," I growled, snatching the essay from my bag and flinging it at him across the table. He caught it with ease and dipped his head with a smirk. "Give it back to me at the end of the day."

Blaise shrugged and folded the parchment, making me cringe as the essay was creased. Call me a perfectionist, but I hated handing in crumpled work. Especially if I'd spent a full hour on it, researching for information.

I turned around to pick up my bag, which had fallen as I'd jerked out my work, and lifted my eyes to see Ginny. She looked miserable; so miserable she probably wasn't even angry at me. She was sitting amongst a group of firsties, but not talking.

She looked like, well, she looked like she needed a friend.

I reached into my bag and fingered the black notebook. I'd found friends now-maybe it would be selfish to keep Tom all to myself. Besides, this was how I'd found him, wasn't it? Someone had given it to me.

It took me a lot of courage to give it to her. Tom was my constant companion whenever I needed him when Theodore wasn't there; I found myself clutching my bag protectively every time she passed me, fingers twitching in a vain effort to try and get myself to give her the book.

I waited an entire week avoiding her while trying to catch her in the hallways at the same time. Finally, I hissed her name as she miserably slumped past me at the end of September in the hallway.

Ginny's head shot up, alarmed. She turned around to see me. "Oh!" Ginny said. "Ron said I wasn't supposed to talk to you."

I was almost relieved. "Oh, I'll just g-"

Her eyes sparkled suddenly, and she yanked me into an empty corridor. "I told Ron not to tell me what to do," she said coolly. "But he told me what you did. Rowan-"

"I know," I snarled at her, before calming. "Sorry. I just-I'm so mad at them for not understanding, but I feel bad, and it's the worst feeling in the world to see someone and be angry at them but also know it's partly your fault, you know?"

Ginny was watching me rant, her eyes glowing. She laughed, tilting her head back to let the red hair on her head fall back. "I knew it."

"Knew what?" I said, a bit breathless from my rant that I'd said without any breaths in between.

Ginny smiled, and I couldn't understand why. "Ron said he knew you were just like the other Slytherins; I knew he was wrong. You're nothing like them."

"I am a little bit," I said defensively.

"Yes," Ginny admitted with a shrug. "But you don't believe what they believe. Not blindly, anyway. That's why I'm still your friend."

I didn't know what to say. "Ginny...thank you. But I don't...they won't like it if I…"

"I know," Ginny said earnestly. "That's why I've been so miserable; I don't have many people to talk to and I was trying to keep away from you. But…"

"But?"

The redhead bore her eyes into mine. "I saw you give Blaise your homework last time. He's been taking it to copy for quite some time, hasn't he?" At my nod, she continued. "I don't know, Rowan. It's your House. But it seems like they're using you."

"Okay, Dumbledore," I said, touched and amused at the same time. "That's what Harry said."

"I think you should think about it," Ginny said, shrugging her shoulders. She smiled, a little deflated. "I'll stay out of your way until you decide."

"You're not even a little mad?"

A little spark ignited in her, and I saw how upset and angry she really was. "Of course I am. But I just had a fight with Ron-he said I wasn't making friends because I was a temperamentally annoying person, and while I was furious about him I grew less upset at you."

I laughed. "Should I thank him?"

"Only if you want to be hexed," Ginny said with a grin.

"What if Harry's there?" I teased.

Ginny kicked my shin. "Shut it," she muttered. "He was there when Ron said it."

"Well, I wanted to give you something. I found this a while ago, and I want you to have it." I pulled out Tom and handed the book to her. "Give it a try when you're alone."

Tom had, oddly, fought me hard on this decision. He wanted to stay with me, he insisted, but when it became clear that I was not about to budge he insisted on being given away to someone insecure so he could help, as soon as possible. Whoever had created him had given him a kind heart, and I felt a little part of me chip off as Ginny took the book confusedly.

"Don't tell Harry or anyone what I said," I said before Ginny left. "He's been a prick."

"With good reason," Ginny said, slightly defensive. I smiled a little, but didn't believe her-Harry was her celebrity crush, and she was bound to be a little biased.

I waited ten seconds for Ginny to walk away before I slipped to the other direction, feeling a little odd without Tom's smooth handwriting waiting for me.

O-O

By mid-october, I was beginning to feel confused. Ginny seemed more withdrawn; even in an empty corridor she'd slip away from me whenever I tried to talk to her, and she grew paler as October came nearer.

I could only assume it was because of the chill that had spread throughout Hogwarts; my own nose was stuffy and I was beginning to get a headache. I'd always been more sensitive to the cold.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Theodore frowned, tossing me a napkin as I sneezed gratefully into it. He was sitting across from me instead of next to me on the library table with a cautiously disgusted air, watching me shiver and spray snot everywhere. I'd been at it for a week now, sneezing and hacking.

"Fine," I wiped my nose, grabbing his coat that was draped on the chair and pulling it over myself like a cape.

Theodore raised his eyebrows. "I'd prefer it if you didn't make me catch your cold."

"Does this mean I get your coat?" I said, sinking into the warmth of it.

"No," Theodore grimaced as I sneezed into it. "Careful the dragonhide pockets, please."

I smiled and leaned back, reading the book in my lap. "Harry's middle name is James?"

"I don't know," Theodore shrugged. The past weeks had been an inner battle with myself-I struggled between cutting Harry Potter from my life and mind entirely, or taking the new knowledge and researching about him. I'd found a small, thin book on the Potters, who turned out to be almost as filthy rich as the Malfoys, and found a small section on Harry. "What was your second point on the Transfiguration paragraph?" He poised his quill in the air, ink droplet on the tip.

"I have to get it back from Blaise," I sighed.

Theodore looked up. "He took it again?"

"Yes," I muttered.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but hesitated. "Rowan, you can say no."

"It's harder than saying yes, though," I sighed. "I better change my second point, anyway. Mcgonagall isn't stupid; she'll notice." I took some parchment and began writing, but my fingers were shaking. "It's still really cold."

"Infirmary," Theodore insisted. "Come on."

I tried to shrug off his coat, but he reeled back. "Keep it for now, it's disgusting and full of your germs."

I stuck my tongue out at him childishly. "I don't like going to the Infirmary."

"You've been sick for a week and you're shaking," Theodore rolled his eyes. "You're going to the infirmary."

It turned out that Poppy had so many students with a cold that she just shoved Pepper Up Potions at them, but one look at me and she was guiding me to a bed. Theodore shot me a smug look, mimicked his jacket which I interpreted as please wash my now-filthy coat and was promptly rushed out by Poppy.

I spent the entire day there, coughing Pepperup potion that seemed ineffective after a few weeks of sniffling that had erupted into snot-filled sneezes.

Ginny didn't come through, but I heard Percy storm in with an air of out of my way, prefect business and managed to woozily pull open the curtain, head aching. The painless potion had run out, and Pomfrey was going crazy brewing more Pepperup and Painless for the students coming in and out.

"Madam Pomfrey, I require one vial of Pepperup Potion for my sister Ginny Weasley, first year Gryffindor, please," Percy said firmly, sounding as if he were filing a report on his sister. "She's been pale and tired lately, always moping around miserably, and I think she may be coming down with a cold."

"Like half the school," Madam Pomfrey said in a frenzy, wiping her potion-stained hands on her apron before summoning a vial with her wand. "On your way, dear, have Professor Snape send some more potions down, or ingredients if he doesn't have the time."

"Will do, Professor," Percy said proudly, cradling the potion in one hand. He stalked out of the room.

So Ginny was sick. It still didn't explain her uneasy avoidance of me.

I shut the curtain and leaned back, the noise lowering to a dull roar in the background.

"Mister Nott! No visitors!"

"I'm only here to explain to Rowan what the homework was," came Theodore's thinly concealed annoyed voice. "It'll only take a moment, Madam."

I heard him rustle through, and sat up as he opened the curtains, stepping in before closing them again. "Theodore."

"Stop wearing my coat," He complained, setting my homework and a stack of parchment with a quill and ink on the table.

"It's already warm," I protested, sinking into the pillows and coughing. "What did I miss?"

"Potter was worried about you," Theodore smirked.

"Stop it," I said, closing my eyes. "That's not funny."

"I'm not joking; he was looking around at your empty Potions seat until Snape took points."

"I think he would have visited me if he'd been worried," I shrugged. "I'm just waiting for when I can get out of this bed, the sheets are scratchy."

"You were sick for a week, Rowan." Theodore picked up a textbook and showed me where he'd bookmarked the homework. "Pomfrey'll let you out tomorrow."

"No," I immediately groaned. "I want to go back to the Slytherin Common Room."

"Miss Snape, it's time for your dose," Minkie popped in, holding a steaming vial of Pepperup. Pomfrey had a couple house elves helping her out while she brewed, and Minkie was one of them.

"Thanks, Minkie," I took the vial tiredly.

Theodore laughed as Minkie bowed. "Did you just thank a house-elf?"

"Yes?" I tilted my head confused as Minkie popped away. Scrunching my nose and pinching it shut, I swallowed the Pepperup. Steam began to spout out of my ears, a side effect of the potion, but I felt my energy coming back. "What's wrong with that?"

He opened his mouth, but Madam Pomfrey yanked the curtains open and hissed for him to get out. "There will be no romance on my watch!"

I gagged, falling back onto my pillow as Theodore made a face of disgust. "I have better taste than that."

"How dare you!" I cracked open an eye and grinned. "Where's my wand-someone give me my wand-"

Theodore gathered his bag and fled, a smirk flittering across his face.

Harry didn't come visit; in fact, no one but Theodore did. Draco sent a box of chocolates, but it looked like a house-elf had put it together after he'd instructed them to. I ate the whole thing, grimacing at the expensive number on the price tag.

O-O

I got better the next day, and as Halloween rolled around the corner, I was thoroughly disappointed to learn that there was no trick-or-treating.

"What do you mean it's a muggle thing?" I whined, hurrying after Draco. The blonde huffed out a sound of utter exasperation.

"Dignified witches and wizards have parties, not go around begging for food like homeless filth," Draco said snootily, and I rolled my eyes.

"It's not begging," I bounced on my feet. "It's a tradition."

"Yes, and a stupid one." Draco let out a sneering snarl as he passed Nearly-Headless Nick talking to Har-Potter, animatedly pulling on his almost chopped-off head. Potter turned his head as I bumped into him, and we exchanged looks of careful coolness.

"Snape," Potter said coldly, turning back to Nick.

"Potter," I said without a glance, and Draco gave a proud smirk as we headed to the Great Hall.

"Nearly Headless Nick's having a deathday party, did you know?" Draco laughed. "As if anyone would want to go on the day of Halloween."

By the week before Halloween, I had to agree. Dumbledore had live bats flitting about as decorations, and Hagrid's pumpkins were big enough for himself to sit in-Tracey even told me that there would be dancing skeletons.

Unfortunately, Snape had scheduled an enormous test for the day before Halloween-probably to ruin the spirit-and it spread mass panic among students. The library was packed with people, and all the potions books were checked out for the week.

I swallowed a swear, seeing Hermione's bushy hair behind the book I needed. She was seated at an empty table, no doubt coming here before everyone else. Come on, you need that book. Move it!

I stepped forward. "Hey, can I sit?"

Hermione jolted upwards in the middle of taking a hasty note. "Rowan!" She gasped, her face tense. "I-"

"I just need a place to sit and study," I explained tersely.

"Sure," Hermione replied, equally tense.

I slid into the seat in front of her, blood rushing through my head. "Hermione...did Potter tell you?"

Hermione cocked her head at the word Potter. "He did. Personally, I don't understand why you-"

"I didn't mean it, I swear," I said hastily. "Hermione, I just-it slipped out. I honestly don't think you're lower than me, or that you're filthy or anything."

"I know that," Hermione said sharply. "But you can't pick your other friends over us, Rowan."

I bit my lip, sinking low. Rubbing my temples, I looked up at Hermione, the brownness in her eyes flecked with a look of pity and kindness.

"I'm not asking you to pick one over the other," Hermione said. "But I'm saying know what you want, because if you're going to insult us like the rest of the Slytherins we can't be friends. I'll talk to Harry, I promise. And I won't be angry."

"Liar," I smiled halfway.

"Maybe," Hermione giggled. "But you and Harry are both at fault. Think about it."

I did; there was a moment of silence. Hermione perked up. "Think about it," she repeated. "Nick's deathday-I assume you've heard about it-his party is in the roomy dungeon across from dungeon five. Come to the party and talk with us," Hermione smiled slightly. "Harry thinks about you more than he lets on."

"I don't want to apologize," I said coldly. "Not to him. He tried to play a trick on me, called me a hypocrite, and I don't understand why he doesn't get it. Hermione, everyone will hate me if I'm nice to you all. "

"I'm not asking you to be nice," Hermione said, resuming her studying. "I'm asking you to not call me a mudblood."

I flinched sharply. "Don't say that word."

"You can make up some excuse as to why you're not absolutely rude to us," Hermione said, writing a note. "Until then…"

"FIne," I gathered my notes. "I'll see you later."

"Rowan," Hermione said as I got up. "The Deathday Party."

"What about the feast?"

"What's a feast without your real friends?" Hermione snipped. "Bring Nott if you must."

I nodded and left the library.

It took a few days for me to bring up the subject to Theodore. He gave me an instant no.

"Come on," I wheedled in the common room. "Come with me."

"Rowan, no!" Theodore snapped. "I've given an arm and a limb up to help you for the past month since we met, and I'm not going to become a Potter Pal because of you, alright? I've got my own things to do, my own interests! I don't want to go!"

It completely took me by surprise, and I felt shame creep up for the second time in the week. It was true; the whole month since the first day Theodore had helped me out, and I hadn't given a thought as to what it was like for him. I was a horrible person. "I'm sorry," I said reluctantly. "Listen, have fun alright? Sorry I asked."

Theodore looked up. "Rowan, I said no-oh. Oh-I will." He said the last part with confused defiance.

"Yeah," I gave him a small smile. "You should go now, the feast started. I'll see you after."

After a while, I made my way to the dungeons, decision made. I was dressed in a simple black shirt and skirt, robes flowing around it with the Slytherin outline. I'd never been to a Deathday before, but it seemed I'd dressed right: It was similar to a festive funeral. The pathway to the party was filled with dark but bright blue drapes, ghostly candles that gave off a slightly putrid smell, and fingernails scraped the chalkboard. I grimaced.

At the door, Nearly Headless Nick stood, hovering mournfully. "Who're you?" He said suspiciously. "I will have no Slytherin ruining my party-"

"Hermione Granger invited me," I said honestly. "Happy Deathday, sir."

"Sir!" Nick seemed to like that. He puffed out his chest and gave a bow that wobbled his head so I could see the part where his neck had been abused by the axe in his beheading. "Well, I suppose one more guest-"

He swirled aside, and I stepped in gratefully. The dungeon was huge; filled with swirly white ghosts, the candles illuminated the black-and-blue candles lit everywhere. The music sounded like knives scraping against glass.

On the table was rotting food; I stepped back from it as a couple ghosts opened their mouths wide and stepped through the table and food, as if trying to eat it.

"You came," Hermione said behind me, surprised. I spun around, relieved to see an alive human being here.

"I didn't tell anyone I was coming to meet you," I said curtly. "So I don't know if it counts."

"You came, and that's what matters," Hermione said firmly, bushy hair bouncing. "Come on, Harry and Ron are over there. They'll be surpris-"

"You didn't tell them? They don't know?" I retracted my hand she was clutching. "Hermione, they hate me. I came only because I thought all three of you said yes."

My breath quickened. "I can't be here."

"No, Rowan-" Hermione pleaded. "Come on."

"What's she doing here?" Ron stormed over, Potter in tow, eyes narrowed. "Here making fun of Hermione, are you?"

"Leave us alone," Potter glared.

"I'm already doing that," I said coldly, pulling my robes around me and stalking away. "This party sucks anyway. I'm going back to my real friends." I looked Potter straight in the eye.

"And who's that?" Ron sneered protectively. "Your Slytherin buddies? Did you even tell them you weren't going to the feast? How come anyone isn't worried about you?"

"Shut up," I hissed.

"Not even Snape," Ron said, on a roll now. "He's got no friends, and he didn't come to look for his own dau-"

"relative," Potter said quickly, darting his eyes at the ghosts standing curiously by.

I shut my mouth. "Shut up, Ronald Weasley. Get away from me."

"You've been messing things up since the day you came," Ron stepped aside to let me pass. "Just leave us alone and go ruin someone else's life with your presence."

"Ron!" Hermione gasped. I pushed past both of them, roughly.

In the hallway the temperature rose steadily as I made my way away from the dungeons, in no hurry. I didn't much feel like going to the Great Hall; I trudged upstairs the first floor, planning to just walk aroun-

"Ungh!" I grunted, toppling over as someone crashed into me. Twisting around as my arms caught my fall, I sat up. "Potter, what are you doing?"

Potter jolted to his feet, Hermione and Ron behind him. "Run!" He didn't give me much of a choice; Potter seized my wrist and yanked.

"What-what are we running from?" I gasped, nearly tripping over the stairs as he let go. He twisted around to face us, and I slammed into his chest.

"IT'S GOING TO KILL SOMEONE!" Potter screamed, and he changed direction so fast my head spun.

"Are you crazy!" I shouted. "Potter, there's nobody THERE!"

But he'd already sprinted around a corner, and Ron, Hermione, and I had no choice but to follow and see what he was screaming about.

I turned the corner sharply, and slammed into Harry-no, Potter; we both slid into a puddle of water on the ground, and I spat out a mouthful of it, my robes wet. Disgusting.

"Get off me," Potter shoved me off, and I pushed him back into the puddle furiously as I stood. But his hands tangled in my drenched robes and I fell back down.

"Let go!" I muttered, sitting up in the puddle to disentangle his hands from my robes. "Why'd you pull me?"

"The voice," Potter said wildly, twisting around as he removed his hands from my robes. We both stood up. "Didn't you guys hear it? I thought it was going to kill one of you."

Hermione made a noise in the back of her throat as if she wanted to scream. I looked over to see Ron and her staring, eyes wide and face scared.

"Filch's cat," Ron stammered. "The writing on the wall-"

I followed their gaze and almost vomited. In dark red letters, dripping as if it was blood, the wall read:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

There was a little shadow besides it, and I lurched back when I realized what it was: Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, hanging from a torch bracket with her tail straight, eyes wide, and entire body stiff.

"Someone help her," I whispered. "Is she dead?"

"No," Ron said, his hatred for me temporarily forgotten. We'd all forgotten; right now we stood there, shocked to the core. "We have to get out of here. Trust me, we don't want to be found-"

Hermione found her voice. "Too late."

And it was; the feast from the Great Hall had just finished. From either end of the corridor students were crashing into the passage. And abruptly, like a murder scene, they froze and the voices fizzled to a silence as they took in the sight.

Draco pushed himself forward, and I saw his grin through his cold eyes. "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

It was the way he looked at the immobile cat, as if he delighted in the fact that people like Hermione might end up like Mrs. Norris, that I snapped. I didn't want to be friends with them. I had to get out of there.

Draco's grin made me sick. I swallowed bile at the sight of the cat, and behind Draco, Theodore's dark eyes were cold and cut off, avoiding me and the cat. I shut my eyes, dizzy from the scene before me.

The next few events were a blur-I was in reeling in the realization of everything. I remember feeling faint from all the reddish coloring on the wall, and the frightened look some muggleborns cast each other. Filch came, and he sobbed himself into a fit of angry tears as he tried to reach for his cat but retracted his hands in a mournful cry at the last moment.

And then I was escorted to the nearest office (Lockhart's) with some professors, Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Lockhart kept talking about how he could have saved the dead cat, until Dumbledore stood suddenly.

"She's not dead," he said softly. "She's been Petrified."

Filch stood from the corner, face purpling in grief and anger. Next to him, Snape was standing, looking torn between glee at seeing Harry in trouble and fury at me for getting myself in the same mess as him. It was an odd sight; he kept twitching.

"He did it, he did it!" Filch howled, striking a bony finger at Harry, a tear dripping off a pouchy wart on his cheek. "He knows I-I'm a squib!"

"I'm sorry," I broke in. "Did you just say you were a squid?"

"A SQUIB!" Filch blubbered, turning away in shame.

"I never touched Mrs. Norris!" Harry said loudly. "We were just at the Deathday Party, and we happened to walk by!"

"But why not join the feast afterward?" said Snape suspiciously. "Why go up to that corridor?"

My stomach gave a little grumble. I was hungry.

"Without any supper?" continued Snape, a triumphant smile flickering across his gaunt face. "I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties."

We weren't hungry," said Ron loudly as his stomach gave a huge rumble.

Pudding, my stomach whimpered. Chicken. Cake.

I looked at Mrs. Norris and lost my appetite.

Dumbledore looked at each of us for a long time, and there was something in the piercing blue eyes of his that made me nervous. I looked away. Finally, he said firmly, "Innocent until proven guilty. Argus-" the crying Filch looked up. "-Professor Sprout has some mandrakes; soon we will be able to make a potion and heal her."

"Ah!" Lockhart pounced, his eyes alight with happiness. "I can brew that. Easy as pie, I say, it only takes a few minutes to brew-"

"Excuse me," Snape said coldly. "I believe I am the Potions Master of this school."

I snorted before I could stop myself, and covered it up with a loud cough.

Lockhart beamed, but looked a little off. "Ah, well-"

"Plus," I cut in with a smirk. "The potion takes a minimum of an hour, Professor Lockhart. And that's if you switch the ingredient intake to make the process go faster."

"Really?" Hermione perked up to look at me. "Which ones?"

"The powdered roots," I explained, launching into a conversation I'd had with Theodore about this. "You don't put it right after the leaves, you alternate and stir counter-clockwise, because then-"

"Yes, I knew that," Lockhart laughed nervously. There was an awkward pause as Lockhart locked eyes with Snape, and Snape's eyes grew frostier. Lockhart paled horribly and looked away, making a sound that seemed to be a laugh but came out like a guttural cry.

"You may go," Dumbledore told us, and we slid out of the room.

As soon as we were out, I let out a fresh breath of relief. I sneaked a glance up at Harry, who was staring at the door with a tense expression, bangs falling into his eyes. Irritated, he swatted them away.

"You can go," Harry said stiffly to me. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess." He said sorry through clenched teeth.

"What, no explanation?" I demanded. I took a deep breath. "No, you're right. I'll go."

Harry's eyes flickered in surprise, but he pivoted and turned away, Hermione and Ron trailing after him. Hermione whirled around to look at me, and for a second I thought she would say something important, but then she turned back and followed Ron.

I counted to twenty as they walked away and turned a corner before darting after them silently. I followed them up the stairs and stopped right outside an empty classroom, pressing my ear close to the right of the doorway.

"Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world." Ron was saying, and something in his voice had a hesitant tilt of skepticism. I raised my eyebrow.

"You do believe me, don't you?"

"Course I do," said Ron quickly. "But - you must admit it's weird..."

"I know it's weird," said Harry. "The whole thing's weird. What was that writing on the wall about? The Chamber Has Been Opened ... What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know, it rings a sort of bell," said Ron slowly. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once... might've been Bill..."

Hearing voices. I shook my head. Insane. But what did I know? In a matter of a few months I'd found out I was a witch, had a father, and was going to a magic school.

"And what on earth's a Squib?" said Harry.

"Well - it's not funny really - but as it's Filch," he said. "A Squib is someone who was born into a wizarding family but hasn't got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of Muggle-born wizards, but Squibs are quite unusual. It would explain a lot. Like why Filch hates students so much." Ron sounded satisfied. "He's bitter."

It seemed they were done on the topic of the voices and the wall. I backed away and headed for the dungeons, making it just as the clock struck twelve.

O-O

Something had changed. People began to talk and the hallways filled itself with whispers and rumours about the event. The Slytherins for the most part were excited. A revolution, they called it with the same gleam Draco had in his eyes. To wipe out the mudbloods stinking up the hallway.

I did try and keep peace with Draco, but it was getting progressively harder. At dinner the topic came up again.

"I hope they go after Granger next," Draco said with an eager grin. "It would do everyone a lot good if she was killed."

I stiffened, and Theodore placed a hand on my arm underneath the table in dangerous warning. Clenching my teeth, I ripped apart my sausage with a savage bite.

Pansy laughed, and I looked up at her pug-faced grin. "Forget the Granger mudblood, I can't wait for all of them to be gone."

"But I want Granger gone first," Draco insisted. "And maybe they'll murder the Weasleys while they're at it."

"Shut up!" I slammed my fork down, and the Slytherin section surrounding me fell silent, staring, shocked. Draco turned to me, and his feral grin slowly dropped as his eyes narrowed.

"You guys are talking about murder," I gasped. "Are you insane?"

"What's it to you?" Blaise leaned forward. "Are you a mudblood?"

"No, but other people are!" I said wildly. "You want them dead? For who they were born as? What's wrong with you people?"

A hush fell over the Slytherin table, and Theodore pulled back his hand on my arm like he'd been burned.

"Let me tell you something, Snape," Blaise leaned forward even more, and we locked eyes. "Mudbloods deserve to die. They don't deserve this world of magic. We do. We've been here for centuries."

"I don't care about that," I said calmly. "You can believe anything you want about muggleborns' rights, but they don't deserve to die for that belief. Prejudice is one thing, but what you're talking about is crazy!"

"I changed my mind," Blaise hissed with a smirk. "I hope they come after you next."

I yanked out my wand and pressed it against the flesh of his neck. "Say that again, I dare you."

Blaise only sniggered from across the table. "And what will you do with that wand? You hex me, Snape, and you've called a war on yourself."

"So be it," I hissed, but nevertheless I reluctantly pocketed my wand. "I want my essay back, as well." But I knew I wouldn't be getting it back; I grabbed my bag and turned to leave the room.

"Flipendo," Blaise snapped, and I whirled around too late; the spell lifted me in the air and threw me across the Great Hall floor. I slammed into the ground hard, and the Great Hall fell silent as teachers stood in alarm.

My left arm throbbed heavily, and I clutched it with my right arm as it pulsed in pain. But adrenaline and anger pushed it away and I sat up furiously.

"MISTER ZABINI!" Mcgonagall was storming down the Great Hall, and she fixed the smug boy with a glare. "Detention for a month, and fifty points from Slytherin!" Now there was a cry of outrage from the Slytherin table.

I was seething as I stumbled to my feet as Snape glided forward. He flicked his wand at me and I unceremoniously was lifted to my feet by invisible hands He took hold of my arm and I shook hard, struggling to grasp my wand with my right arm. "Let go!"

"I suggest, Miss Snape, that you cease struggling this instant or you will recieve the same punishment as Mister Zabini," Snape leaned forward, black eyes dripping with anger.

"I don't care!" I yanked my arm free and aimed it at Zabini, shouting the first spell that came to mind "Tarantallegra!"

Instantly, Zabini's feet began to move on its own accord, and he gritted his teeth in embarrassment.

"Incendio," I hissed, just as Snape yanked my arm back; the spell hit him right on the hem of his robes and it caught fire. With a yelp, Zabini began to tear off his robes, shaking them in an attempt to stop the fire all while his feet jerked uncontrollably in an angry dance.

"Detention," Snape snarled, grabbing my wand arm. "Are we done with this display?"

At the same time, Mcgonagall had hoisted Zabini up by the collar with one hand and had doused him in water to stop the fire. She shook his collar and shouted, face stiff, "Unacceptable! Severus, control your House!"

"I will see it done," Snape sniffed, releasing my arm. "Zabini, Snape, my office at eight tonight to discuss your detentions for the month. And the next."

"You brought it on yourself, Snape," Zabini hissed at me as I grabbed my dropped bag. He leaned in close, dripping wet. "You've made an enemy, and I hope you tread very carefully."

I shoved him out of the way and left the Great Hall.

For the next few days, nobody would talk to me. I could feel Theodore's gaze from across the room (he no longer sat with me in class or the library, and often I was stuck with whoever came in last in class). Zabini snarled at me whenever he saw me, and I'd taken to clutching my bag very close to me for fear he would take out his wand and Diffindo my bag like he'd done multiple times, tearing it apart. The only other time we interacted was in detention together.

Once, a few days after the incident, we were storming out of detention with Filch, and I was dripping wet, suds in my hair. Zabini had tipped over the soap bucket and doused me; I was still spitting out soapy water. He infuriated me just with one look, and I hated that he was a Slytherin, because then I had to deal with him even out of detention. We had to walk together to the common room, and for some unfair reason we woke at the same time (early), bumping shoulders as hard as we could while walking to the Great Hall. I hated him.

I told him this as I wrung out the soapy water in my hair, striding forward in an angry gait.

"How wonderful it must be for you, then, to know that I feel the same way," Zabini snapped in a slow, sarcastic tone.

There was a sound at the passage we were passing, and I snapped my head to the side. "Did you hear that?"

"What, the sound of nobody caring about you?" Zabini said in a falsely sweet voice. "Because let me tell you, that is a beautiful sound-"

"No," I stopped walking, and Zabini looked back curiously. "There's someone here."

I turned back to the pathway, shivering as I remembered this was the same place Mrs. Norris had been found, and blinked at the scene before me: Harry, Hermione, and way behind them a terrified Ron, crouched at the wall that still read the same horrifying, cryptic message. Maybe the rumours were right.

But Harry? The Heir of Slytherin, a Gryffindor?

I planned to slide myself against the wall, invisible to watch them, but Zabini popped his head around, his dark face startling me as he spoke. "Well, if it isn't Draco's favorite victims."

I hissed, spinning around to hit him in the arm with a rough punch. "You scared me!"

"A bonus, then," Zabini stepped forward as Harry and Hermione stood quickly and raised their wands as fast as Ron had. "Granger, I didn't know you wanted to die. I've yet to meet a mudblood that wants to be killed."

"You shut your mouth," Ron said dangerously. "Say that word one more time-"

"Spiders," I said in surprise. Spiders were crawling on the wall, and they were creepily formed in a line and fighting to crawl through a small crack in the wall. If there was anything scarier than live spiders, it was creepy live spiders. "Do you three think this might be a clue to whatever this whole business is on?"

"We aren't saying anything." Ron said fiercely, at the same time Hermione said, "Maybe".

"Hermione," Ron hissed. "Don't tell them what we know."

"Ron, we don't know anything," Hermione rolled her eyes. She giggled. "And if you'd come here and look, maybe we would."

"It's not funny," said Ron, fiercely. "If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my - my teddy bear into a great big filthy spider because I broke his toy broomstick... You wouldn't like them either if you'd been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and..."

Zabini snorted, leaning against the wall. Harry looked up and stared right at me, eyes pleading. I felt upset he thought he could ask me anything, but sighed and turned away.

"Stop bothering them, Zabini," I snapped. "Unless you've been secretly harboring a crush on one of them, then please proceed."

"I don't know, Snape," Zabini said coolly. "I quite like the mudblood; might be able to sneak in a kiss before she's killed like she deserves to be. Do you think it would be alright if I threw her parents in too?"

Hermione gasped, lifting her wand even more.

I turned around to glare at Zabini. "Shut your mouth right now."

"Hit a nerve?" Zabini grinned. "And where are your parents, Snape? Mummy didn't want you?"

I dropped my wand. Zabini looked delighted as I scrambled to pick it up, shaken. Trembling very slightly, I turned to him, a fire in my stomach. "I don't know, Zabini, maybe she didn't. But I'm not the one who's going to end up on fire again if he doesn't shut up."

"You're a disgusting cow," Zabini snarled, pushing himself off the wall to walk away.

I heard Harry draw in a breath, but I merely smiled sweetly at Zabini. "No more than your mother is."

"Don't talk about my mother," Zabini said sharply, turning and storming away.

"Oh, but she's such a sweet woman!" I called after him. "How does she put up with you?"

When Zabini's angry footsteps had finally faded, I pocketed my wand and finally let myself breathe.

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly.

"No problem," I said tonelessly. "I'll see you three, then."

"Rowan," Harry said suddenly, and I was pleasantly surprised to not hear him say Snape. "Do you know anything about the Heir of Slytherin?"

I shrugged. "No. I don't think it's Zabini, though. The Heir would try to lie low. Why?"

"Malfoy hasn't done anything in a while…" Ron said slowly. "In fact, he's sort of been lying low. As low as can be expected, at least."

"What do you plan to do?" I said suspiciously.

"Well...there might be a way," said Hermione slowly, dropping her voice.

"No!" I said. "Come on, guys, really…"

"Care to tell us, Hermione?" Ron said over my protest.

"This doesn't even have to do with you," I interrupted. "And it's dangerous stuff; just leave it alone."

"No, no, you're right," Harry said quickly with a significant look at his friends. "Come on, let's forget about this."

"Good idea," I said suspiciously. "I'm going back to the common room now."

"Goodbye," Harry said, yanking his friends up and backing away the other way.

I stared, eyes narrowed until they disappeared from sight. I hoped they'd leave it alone.

But that was probably just wishful thinking.

I'm sorry guys, I was in Japan and the only time I had wifi was in the hotel. I'm in Taiwan now, so it will take a while for the next update, but I've been writing every second I got.

sakurapetals0192: Thanks! That was a big issue-I always wondered what the Slytherin House really was like, so I'm glad you like my twist of it.

Alpha Death: Haha, yeah, I'm always busy so my updates are horrible :( and you'll just have to find out, won't you ;)

See you all next time!