"Flint!" Oliver Wood's angry voice bellowed at the Slytherin Quidditch Captain. "I specifically booked this practice time. You and your team need to clear off!"
Although Wood was tall and muscled from years of Quidditch training, he was no match compared to Marcus Flint, who towered over him with a repellent, cunning look on his face.
"Plenty of room for both of us. Or did daddy not teach you, sharing is caring?" he said. His voice dripped with sarcasm.
"But I booked the field! I booked it far in advance!"
"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. Let me read it out to you. '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 and Chaser'."
"You have a new Seeker? And a new Chaser? Where?"
From his position behind the five, large brawny boys, and the petite, feminine figure, Draco Malfoy stepped out. He was the second shortest there, and a smirk was plastered on his face. He had gone to Madam Pomfrey, once Goyle had finally said the countercurse right, and his eyebrows were back, with fine threads of pale hair spread in a high arch.
"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" Fred asked. He eyed the boy with obvious displeasure.
"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as most of the Slytherin team smiled still even more broadly. The shorter, girlish figure had disappeared behind the burlier youths. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."
The Gryffindors tried to disguise their awe and jealousy, as they looked at the Slytherins' new broomsticks. They were startling well-polished, with fresh new handles glistening in the sunlight. Printed on the brooms, in golden lettering, was 'Nimbus Two Thousand and One'.
"Very latest model. Only came out last month. I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps" – Marcus' smile as he glanced at Fred and George's Cleansweep Fives, was nasty indeed - "sweeps the board with them."
"Oh, look," said Flint, at the sight of Ron and Hermione running down to meet them. "Field invasion."
"What's going on?" Ron asked, turning to Harry. "Why aren't you playing?" He saw Malfoy and grimaced. "And what's he doing here?"
"Ah. Well, isn't the whole party here now?" Flint drawled. "I think it's perfect timing for us to introduce our new Slytherin Seeker, Draco Malfoy," – Malfoy grinned smugly – "and our Chaser, Daliah Agorios."
Lia felt herself being pushed forwards, and stumbled. She'd been trying to hide at the back, and avoid the Gryffindor team's gaze. As she came, lurching into their full line of view, she saw their eyes widen in surprise.
"Lia?" said Harry. He was looking at her as if she had committed a monstrous betrayal.
"Oh, don't look at me like that, Harry. Don't you all give me that look!" She turned her nose up high. "What is it a crime to play Quidditch now?"
Harry looked a bit guilty, but still said with accusation, "You didn't tell me you were trying out."
Lia shot Flint a look. "I didn't even know I was, until yesterday that is. I'm being forced to play on the team. Against my will!" She sighed. "What happens if I can't even fly? Or I get knocked out by a bludger? Sport's not really my thing."
"You'll be fine," Graham Montague snapped at her. "Malfoy said he saw you on a broom last year and you were alright. Besides," he smiled, "With the brooms that Malfoy's father has bought us, even you won't be able to mess up too badly."
Ron did a double take as he spotted the Nimbus broomsticks. His mouth fell open.
"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."
All of the Slytherin team, except Lia, began to howl with laughter. Lia looked down at her shoes, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She didn't really mind if Harry was pissed at her, he'd get over it. But she really didn't want the Weasleys and the other Gryffindors to hate her.
"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione, her voice sharp. "They got in on pure talent."
Lia could help but let out a giggle. The Slytherins glared at her darkly. "What?" she said. "...It was a good insult. Don't lie to yourselves, it was."
Malfoy - who hadn't spoken so much as a word to her, since the incident in the deserted classroom – shot daggers at her. His previously haughty expression had faded away.
Turning to Hermione, he spat, "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood."
Lia gave a gasp of outrage. She'd heard him call Hermione a mudblood before, but she hadn't thought that he would actually be dumb enough to say it to his face.
She found that both she, Fred and George had launched themselves at Malfoy. Sadly, she wasn't able to pummel him, as Flint dived in front, blocking her.
"Lia," her Captain hissed to her. "Stop acting like this, or I'll kick you off the team."
She scoffed. "Go ahead. It's not like I wanted to be here in the first place. You only forced me to join because Snape offered to give Slytherin forty points if you recruited a girl. We were getting a lot of backlash for being a sexist, all-male team, you know?"
She paused. "That, and because you thought having me flying around the pitch during a match, would throw Harry and the Weasleys off their game."
There was a sudden deafening bang – Ron had pulled out his semi-broken wand and shot a spell at Malfoy. However, it hadn't actually struck him, but instead came out of the wrong side, hitting Ron straight in the stomach. He was forced backwards, and collapsed on the grass.
Lia watched in horror as he gagged and, opening his mouth, promptly regurgitated a pile of nice, fat, slimy slugs.
"Get him to Hagrid's," she said to Harry and Hermione, looking at Malfoy, who was currently crying of laughter. "I'll deal with that brat." She walked over and his amusement fell at the sight of her face.
"You'll never learn, will you Malfoy?" she said coldly, shaking her head. She was feeling particularly cruel, so she took a jab at him. "Still going to try 'clean me of my stain'?"
His voice was equally as cold when he retorted. "No." His face was set like stone. "I'm beginning to think that the damage is permanent."
She snorted, and then lingered for a moment, musing. "Why do you hate muggle-borns so much? I just don't understand." She scrunched up her eyebrows. "I get this feeling that you think they're all blood-crazed, vile beasts, or something … But that's just not right. Most of them aren't actually half bad. Look at Hermione, for instance? She's a hell of a lot more pleasant than you are."
"They're impure," Draco said immediately. The Slytherins had started nodding in approval. "Besides, Agorios, you're a pureblood yourself."
"And blood traitors don't belong in Slytherin," said Flint.
"Who belongs in Slytherin then? Boneheads, like yourself? I suppose there are a lot of students in our house who don't let their education get in the way of their ignorance."
"You-" But Lia didn't stop to allow Flint to talk.
"And you five," she said, swerving to pierce Adrian Pucey, Miles Bletchley, Graham Montague and Johnathan Whittley – the other five players on Slytherin's Quidditch team - with a death stare. "I don't recall seeing any of your last names in the Pure-blood Directory. You must have some amount of muggle ancestry in you.
"So, don't you go acting," she flicked a strand of hair from her face, "… as if you're the most important brats on Earth around me! Although I do suppose that you all seem mildly better than Flint and Malfoy. They were on the directory. But I don't think that as good of a thing as everyone seems to think.
"I've heard that all the 'true' pureblood families have some sort of incest going on there. Aren't you related to the Blacks, the Burkes, the Gamps and the Bulstrodes, Flint? And Malfoy, I don't think I can even count the amount of wizarding families you're related to. Aren't the Lestranges and the Greengrasses your cousins?"
She let out a slow whistle. "I can't imagine how well your Christmas dinners could go. Next minute … You find out your mum's your aunt!"
"It does explain the craziness though. Inbreeding tends to result in offspring with less than stellar genetics." She grinned. "If the pureblood families were anymore in-bred, you'd all make fine sandwiches. I don't know how you call muggles 'impure', considering the sort of stuff your ancestors did behind closed doors.
"But you should know that we have this sort of problem in the muggle world too. Not incest. That's frowned upon, everywhere, I think. You'll still go to jail if you fuck your brother …" She cleared her throat.
"I'm talking about this disease called racism. It's sort of like pureblood supremacy? But," she said slowly. "It's considered by most to be a horrible form of oppression. Shocking isn't it? And it's funny too. Even the muggles' views are more advanced than you lots'."
She knew that she was semi-ranting, but she couldn't stop. "At least most non-wizarding communities recognise that you can't put people in boxes. How can you just say that Europeans are good, and African Americans are bad?"
"What are you on about?" Malfoy deadpanned.
Lia faltered. "Well, in your case, I guess … I guess that it would be that purebloods are good, and muggle-borns are bad. It's…it's," she scrunched up her forehead. "It's blood-ism!"
Then, Lia shook her head and looked at the floor. "But then again. I'm being too mean. Just like people don't choose to be muggle-born, you guys didn't really choose to be pureblood supremacists. Your parents must have forced it on you as soon as you were born, didn't they? I suspect that most of you never even knew any better. After all, a wise man did tell me once that people aren't born evil."
There was a period of silence. The fact that no one had spoken a word, even Flint who looked incensed, spoke volumes to Lia. It gave her the courage to keep going.
"Slytherins don't have to be muggle-haters you know? Look at me," she grinned. "I'm a prime example!"
"You know what …" An idea had stuck her. "I'm going to educate you. After all, education is the best weapon against racism, so it could work for bloodism too!"
"No, thanks," Pucey snorted.
"We have Muggle Studies already," said Malfoy.
"Yeah," said Lia. "But my classes will be fun! Oh! You'll just love them!"
Most of the Slytherins stomped away, some rolling their eyes, scoffing at her. Lia saw that sometime during her very, very long speech, she had managed to gather a crowd. It wasn't just made up of Slytherins now; but also Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and the occasional Ravenclaw.
"We love Lia!" shouted George.
"Lia for Minister!" yelled Fred.
She grinned across the yard at them, her cheeks pink.
"That was stupid," Malfoy muttered as he passed her. "Stupid, Lia. You've made yourself some enemies."
"I can take care of myself," she said. "I'm not a trembling little first year anymore." She smirked at him. "Aren't you excited Malfoy? You can be my special case. You know what? One day I'll get you to talk to Granger's parents civilly. And then I'll know I've gotten though your thick heads."
"You wouldn't be able to, not even if you used 'Imperio on me."
"So sure already, Malfoy? … I smell a bet."
He sniffed. "You must be a moron if you think you can actually do it. But I do like easy winnings. You'll need more than a lifetime, so … I'll give you until the end of Fifth Year. If I win … if I win, you'll apologise to my father."
"Ew," Lia wrinkled her nose.
"And … you'll admit that I'm a hell of a lot better than Harry Potter is. In fact … you'll run around the common room with your undies on your head, chanting 'Draco is my prince! Potter sucks!'"
"That's a lot to ask for."
"Weren't you sure that you would succeed though?"
"Fine. But if … No ... When, I win, you'll … you'll grant me a favour. Just one small favour."
"What favour?"
"I'll decide it when I feel like it," she raised a brow in challenge. "Are you in?"
"Prepare to lose." He stuck out his hand, and she shook it.
"Malfoy," she said, afterwards. "You're such a beautiful, intelligent person." He stared at her, as if she'd sprouted another pair of eyes. "Oh I'm sorry … I thought we were having a lying competition?"
"Ha. Funny. Lia. I may be filthy rich, but I'm not buying your bull."
They kept on bickering, on and on, as they walked back to the common room. Their previous awkwardness, anger and embarrassment over the kidnap episode was not forgotten by either of them, but they were glad to shove the event into the backs of their minds and avoid thinking about it.
Eventually, whilst the two argued, Lia said something so insulting to Malfoy, that he snapped back with an even uglier retort. She'd reached up and snatched a fistful of hair right off his shiny head.
It seemed that things were back to normal again.