VII. Some Really Petty Drama (Reprise)

October arrived. The trees in the courtyard swayed in the cool wind as their golden leaves fell to the ground. Autumn wreaths and candles decorated the corridors, and floating pumpkins filled the great hall. Even though I had only been there for a month, Hogwarts already felt more like home than Malfoy Manor ever had. But the lovely autumn atmosphere did nothing to solve the drama between Harry, Ron, Hermione and me.

Hermione refused to speak to Harry and Ron, but they didn't seem to mind. I, on the other hand, wasn't sure which side to take. I was friends with all three of them, but I did take Hermione's side the night of the supposed wizard's duel. Since I figured the boys didn't want much to do with me either, I stuck with her.

The more time I spent with Hermione, the more homework I was obliged to do. It was unpleasant at first, but I learned to be grateful for her forcing me out of procrastination. And she was always happy to read anything aloud for me, which was a huge help. We spent most of our time in the library, trying to avoid Harry and Ron as much as possible, but it was hard to avoid your classmates. Especially when you shared both a schedule and living quarters.

"If we see them, we walk in the other direction," I had advised her. "We don't look at them, we don't wave to them, and we don't engage in any social interaction. It would be too awkward."

She agreed and we headed back to Gryffindor Tower. And of course, we couldn't even walk through the halls without having to face our newfound enemies.

"Well, it's true," Harry was saying to Ron, running up the stairs with a broomstick-shaped package. "If Malfoy hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall, I wouldn't be on the team—"

"Just walk the other way," I reminded Hermione in a hushed voice. She ignored me.

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking the rules?" Hermione snapped at Harry and Ron.

I sighed. That was the opposite of what she was supposed to do.

"Just leave them," I said, attempting to end the conversation. "They obviously don't listen to reason."

"I thought you two weren't talking to us anymore?" Harry scoffed.

"Oh, please don't stop now," Ron added. "It's doing us so much good."

Hermione stormed off, and I followed her lead.

"Stubborn imbeciles," she muttered.

The breakfast on Halloween morning was even more enchanting than the rest of October. They served pies in every flavor, breakfast casseroles, and something Hermione called a pumpkin spice latte ("I thought I'd left those behind in the Muggle world," she had said).

Lessons continued as normal, and were becoming more interesting now that we had mastered the basics. In Charms, Flitwick had us practice the Levitation Charm in groups of two. He paired me with Harry and Hermione with Ron. Not one of us was happy with the arrangement.

"Now remember," Flitwick instructed. "Swish and flick." He demonstrated the movement with his wrist. "And pronouncing the words 'Wingardium Leviosa' properly is very important too—Never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

Harry and I couldn't even lift our feathers off the desk.

"Why won't this thing move?" he mumbled, prodding it with the tip of his wand.

I gritted my teeth. "Maybe it would if you weren't such a prick—"

"Yes, I'm the prick."

The only words we said to each other for the remainder of the class were "Wingardium Leviosa". Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, were having an argument and a tutoring session all in one.

"You're doing it wrong," Hermione snapped. "It's Wing-gar-dium Le-vi-o-sa, not Wing-gar-dium Le-vi-o-sar."

"Why don't you do it if you're so clever?" Ron muttered.

"I will, then." Hermione swished and flicked her wrist. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The feather rose off the desk and hovered in the air. Hermione smiled, very pleased with herself, as the rest of the class turned to look at what she'd done.

"Wonderful!" Flitwick beamed. "Look, everyone, Miss Granger's done it! Ten points to Gryffindor!"

When Flitwick dismissed the class, Harry and Ron were the first ones out the door. They certainly weren't pleased that their enemy accomplished the spell before they did. I stayed behind to wait for Hermione while Flitwick praised her.

"That was impressive," I complimented as we exited the Charms corridor into the courtyard.

"Oh, I could only do it because I practiced at home," she said, blushing.

"You still did it," I said, gently hitting her on the arm. She didn't answer. She seemed focused on the group of first-year boys walking in front of us, including Ron and Harry.

"It's Wing-gar-dium Le-vi-o-sa, not Wing-gar-dium Le-vi-o-sar," Ron mocked in an fake high-pitched voice, making the surrounding students burst into laughter. "She's a nightmare, honestly. No wonder barely anyone can stand her."

The shy smile on Hermione's face vanished. She hurried away, her eyes glistening with tears.

"Hermione, wait!" I called. Instead of stopping, she ran out of sight, disappearing into the castle.

"I think she heard you," Harry muttered to Ron.

"It doesn't matter whether she heard you or not!" I scolded, shooting them both daggers with my eyes. "You shouldn't say things like that."

"So? She must know she hasn't got any friends," Ron sneered.

"She has me."

"Only because she's the one person in this school who doesn't hate you."

Silence.

Everyone stared at Ron in shock—even he looked taken aback by his own ridicule. I couldn't think of a single Spanish swear to fire back at him.

"I'd be friends with a million Hermiones before I'd ever be friends with you," I finally spluttered and stormed off to the Transfiguration classroom.

I expected to find Hermione there. She was always first to every class, especially Transfiguration. Just like me, it was her favorite. Nonetheless, the table we always shared was empty, as was the rest of the classroom, except for McGonagall. She was at her desk, tirelessly grading papers. She looked up to greet me.

"Good afternoon, Silverwood," she said. "Where's Granger?"

"She's sick," I lied.

"Oh, well, tell her I hope she gets well soon."

"I will," I assured her.

"And I want you to stay after class today, Silverwood."

I was a bit startled by her words. "Am I in trouble?"

"No," McGonagall said simply, leaving me to wonder and, of course, worry. She went back to her work as the other students started pouring into the classroom.

Hermione and I were undoubtedly McGonagall's favorites. She was still strict in class, but spoke to us as if we were friends, something Percy had warned she rarely did. That made two people in this school who didn't hate me.

Ever since I read Hogwarts: A History, I'd wanted nothing more than to leave Malfoy Manor and come to Hogwarts. I imagined it would be a place where I wasn't hated. Where I could be just another student that wanted to learn the secrets of magic. Where I could fit in. But the closer my eleventh birthday came, the more I discovered how much the wizarding world wanted to get rid of me. I read warnings about myself from Rita Skeeter in the Daily Prophet, and became so sick of it that I switched to The Quibbler. I was avoided in Diagon Alley, and the Gryffindors barely even clapped when I was sorted. But I thought I had made progress over the last month. I thought Harry and Ron were my friends, along with Fred, George, Hermione, and even Percy. But maybe I was wrong.

I never quite understood why everyone hated me. It's not like I wanted my heritage to consist of serial killers, so why did people assume that I would magically end up like my parents? I can be quite nice once you get to know me—well, if I like you, that is. The only things I'm lacking are self-confidence, mental stability, and social skills, and gee, do I wonder why.

We spent the class transfiguring rats into matchboxes. Ron and I kept giving each other sideways glares, but didn't say a word to each other. I was thankful we weren't on speaking terms; I didn't think I could stand getting into another fight with him.

I wanted to set out to find Hermione as soon as McGonagall dismissed the class, but I remembered that she had asked me to stay.

"So, you wanted to see me?" I asked as I approached her desk.

"Yes." She put her quill down to address me. "Silverwood, I've recently heard some very…disturbing things about the Malfoys."

Fred and George. "Like what?" I asked, despite knowing what her answer would be.

"That you've mentioned your godfather hitting you on multiple occasions, without you knowing that it was out of the norm, let alone illegal."

I couldn't tell her the truth. Lucius would use his high status to get himself out of trouble, and his punishment for me would be unimaginable. And besides, what would the Ministry care about Voldemort's daughter being hit around? They'd probably make Lucius the Minister.

I fidgeted with my shirt. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Silverwood, I'm going to need you to be honest with me here." She spoke with the gentlest tone I had ever heard her use. "We can remove you from the situation."

"Is that a sugarcoated version of 'we can put you in an orphanage and make you live without any family at all for the rest of your life because teenagers don't get adopted'?"

McGonagall's usual stern look returned. "Silverwood."

"Sorry," I mumbled. "What have you heard? And from who? Because I can assure you that whatever anyone said is rubbish."

"From whom, Silverwood," McGonagall corrected me. "And it was every Weasley currently attending this school."

"What?" I understood Fred and George, but Ron and Percy? "What did they say?"

McGonagall rummaged around in her desk until she found a sheet of parchment with a few notes scribbled on it. She raised it to her face to read it. "Well, for starters, Percy claimed that at the start-of-term feast, Draco Malfoy asked you how you thought your father might react to your Sorting. You said, and I quote, 'Well, I'd suppose he'd bash me with his cane a hundred times.'"

I looked down at the table. "I was… exaggerating."

"There's more," she continued. "Fred and George told me that the Howler Lucius sent you was particularly awful, and that when they asked if the Malfoys ever hit you, you confirmed it, and you were surprised that it wasn't normal. All I need you to do is confirm it again."

"I misheard them," I lied. "I thought they asked if the Malfoys ever… hit… golf balls! They love golfing. A lot." I sighed at the ludicrous string of words that just exited my mouth.

McGonagall took in a deep breath. "Silverwood, I have heard a lot of lies throughout my life, but that, by far, is the worst."

Knowing she was right, I chose to move on. "What did Ron say?"

"That you told him your godbrother had his friends beat you up on multiple occasions? And that you were underfed?"

"I never said that." I shifted on my feet, wishing I could lie without the whole school being able to tell. Lucius would kill me if I got his precious son expelled. "I swear, they're just making it all up. You know Weasleys, they're, um… mad." I reinforced my own statement with a nod. "Yeah, messed up in the head, every last one of them. They hallucinated me telling them all of those things, honestly."

"Silverwood, you know I can't report this to the Ministry without your verification."

"That's unfortunate."

"Fine," McGonagall grumbled. "Come and see me when you want to be honest." She went back to grading essays.

"I am being—"

"Don't even try, Silverwood." McGonagall didn't look up from her desk.

I began to sulk out of her room, but stopped when I noticed a jar of spare quills sitting on the counter next to the door. After checking behind me to make sure McGonagall wasn't looking, I snatched one for myself and hid it in the pocket of my robes.

Stealing always gave me a rush, a sense of accomplishment that cured me at my worst moments. I had stolen useless knick-knacks from the Malfoys hundreds of times—I was surprised they had anything left. It always relieved my anger after a punishment from Lucius. And after Ron insulting Hermione and me, and now McGonagall pressuring me to be honest with her about the Malfoys, I needed something to cope.

As soon as I left, I set out to find Hermione. Maybe she's in the common room. I started in the direction of Gryffindor tower, but stopped at the sound of Lavender Brown's taunting voice behind me.

"Looking for Granger, Silverwood?" Her irritating voice chimed like a thousand bells at once.

I turned around to face her and Parvati. Lavender's light brown hair fell in perfect, symmetrical curls around her shoulders. I could almost hear them saying "Lavender's hair looks better than yours."

"Fay said she's been crying in the bathroom near Snape's office," Parvati said with fake pity. She twirled her black braid in her fingers, making me want to rip out my own braid so we wouldn't be matching.

"So, if you want to go find her, it's down that hallway and to the left." Lavender pointed to a corridor on the right-hand side. "But I should warn you, knowing Granger, it'll be pathetic. You two make a great pair, don't you?" She and Parvati walked off, their annoying laughs ringing in my ears.

I wanted to punch the smug smiles off of their faces, but I knew I would get in trouble and they wouldn't. They were always on their best behavior during class, and every teacher thought they were angels. I, on the other hand, had a reputation to fix. So I calmed myself down by remembering how I had succeeded in stealing McGonagall's quill, and my fists unclenched. Instead, I pulled two sheets of parchment out of my bag and crumpled them up. I pointed my wand at them, whispered a quick "Wingardium Leviosa," hoping the spell might finally work, and they went flying towards the back of Lavender and Parvati's heads. The parchment hit them right where their brains should have been.

With appalled expressions, they whipped around to glare at me as I attempted to hide the triumphant smirk on my face. I disappeared before they could say another word.

After a bit of searching, I found the corridor with Snape's office. That might have been the first time I navigated the castle without Hermione's help. But my triumph disappeared when I encountered the last person I wanted to see at the moment. Or ever.

"You should be at the Halloween feast, shouldn't you?" Snape inquired, raising one eyebrow with suspicion.

"And you should be using more shampoo," I retorted, "but we can't all have what we want, can we?" I sped past him before he could think to give me a month's detention.

After passing a statue of a griffin, I found the girls' bathroom. I entered only to hear crying coming from the stall furthest from the door. It reminded me of what Ron had said to her, filling me with rage. He could say whatever he wanted to me, but not Hermione. She was one of the only people to stick by me no matter what, and I was going to do the same for her. Maybe I would ask Fred and George how to hypothetically get the perfect revenge.

Tenatatively, I knocked on the stall door. "Hermione?" I said. No answer. "I know you're in there."

"Go away," a voice sobbed. It was Hermione.

"Hermione, you can't stay in there forever," I said.

"Yes, I can."

"Not if you want to go the Halloween feast."

Hermione's stomach grumbled. "I'm not hungry."

I sighed and decided to change the subject. "I can teach you what we did in Transfiguration," I offered. "The Flintifors spell. I know you've been looking forward to that." No response. "Look, you're not still upset about what Ron said, are you?"

Hermione answered with nothing but a "hmph".

"Don't let him get to you," I continued. "He's just jealous that you got the spell before he did. That's all."

"What, because I'm a Muggle-born?" she said.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"He thinks he should be better than me because I'm a Muggle-born and he's from a wizard family, doesn't he?"

Her words shocked me. She felt lesser because she was a Muggle-born. I thought back to when Draco had called her a Mudblood in Diagon Alley—did she know what that meant now? Did she know that wizards had created a slur specifically for people like her?

"No!" I said, trying to comfort her. "Of course not! If I got the spell, he'd be jealous of me, too. He's just being a jealous twit."

At that moment, the bathroom door was shoved open, letting in a horrendous smell of rotten eggs and vomit. I turned around to face a twelve-foot tall, grey troll shuffling into the bathroom. Its giant feet shook the ground, and its long arms dragged a heavy wooden club across the floor.

"You really think so?" I heard Hermione say from inside her stall. I didn't dare answer as I slowly backed away from the troll, shaking.

"Mierda," I whispered.

"Sadie? Sadie, are you still there?"

The stall door creaked open and Hermione emerged, her eyes puffy and red. She caught sight of the troll as it turned its tiny head in our direction, its beady black eyes boring into us.

We screamed.

It lugged its large feet across the floor and swung its mighty club towards us. I yanked Hermione out of the way, making the club crash into the stall door instead. The troll struggled to pull its weapon free, giving us an opportunity to catch our breath and run to the exit.

"Get the door!" I cried.

Hermione fought to turn the door handle, but it didn't budge.

"It's locked!" she squealed.

"Who would lock the girls' bathroom?" I shouted. "Use that unlocking doors spell!" I frantically looked behind me. The troll had retrieved its club and was advancing towards us.

"Of course!" Hermione said, raising her wand. "Aloha—"

The troll wasn't too eager to let her finish her spell. We shrieked again as it threw us across the room, away from the door. I groaned in pain as I landed on the cold, marble tile, and felt a large bump forming of the back of my aching head. Both Hermione and I were too dizzy to get up. The monster was stumbling toward us, shattering sinks as it went. We gave each other looks of dread and shrunk against the wall, the blood drained from our faces.

"It's been a good two months, Hermione," I said, my voice quivering. She nodded in agreement.

I was sure this would be the end of us, but the door opened once more.

"Oi, pea brain!" someone shouted.

"Over here!" said another.

The troll turned around as the sources of the voices stepped out into the open. It was Harry and Ron.

"Confuse it!" Harry said.

Ron pulled a metal pipe from a destroyed sink and threw it at the troll. The pipe struck it in the head, causing it to lose its stability.

"Run!" Harry shouted at Hermione and me. We tried to dash past the stunned troll, but it swung its arms out, trying to gain its balance, and sent us flying back against the wall once again. This time, my right foot landed on its side, leaving excruciating pain in my ankle. Meanwhile, Harry made another attempt to attack the monster. A stupid attempt, in my opinion.

He charged towards the monster and jumped onto its back in an attempt to strangle it. The problem was, his wand was still in his hand when he jumped, and it went right up the troll's nose.

The troll flailed its arms, once again stumbling over its own feet in its baffled state. Harry was bound to be knocked off. I wanted to help him, but I could barely even touch my foot to the ground without feeling agony, let alone stand up. Hermione looked like she was about to faint, so she couldn't be much help either. But luckily, Ron had an idea of his own.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

With a swish and flick of his wrist, Ron levitated the club from the troll's hand and dropped it on its owner's head. The troll spun in circles before falling to the ground, dazed, along with Harry. The latter got to his feet and retrieved his wand, wiping it on his pants with a groan of disgust.

Hermione and I let out sighs of relief and stood up, and I put my arm around her neck to avoid putting weight into my injured foot. Hermione was the first to speak.

"Is it dead?"

"No, just knocked out, I think," Harry said.

"We better get back to the common room before anyone finds out we were here," Ron urged. "I'm sure we can get some fifth years to fix you guys up. Come on."

The sudden sound of footsteps grabbed our attention. Professor McGonagall stormed into the bathroom, followed by Snape and Quirrell, all three very unpleased. Once Quirrell saw the troll, he turned white as a sheet and fainted, but McGonagall and Snape's angry expressions didn't falter. Hermione and I exchanged another look of dread, knowing this encounter wouldn't end well.

"What on earth were you four thinking?" McGonagall reprimanded. "You should be in your dormitory!"

McGonagall's frown of disapproval was nothing compared to Snape's piercing glare. His cold, soulless eyes stared at me in anger, maybe even pure hatred. I remembered the comment I'd made about his hair, and looked away, not daring to speak. Thankfully, Hermione did for me.

"Please, Professor," she said. "It was my fault."

"Yeah," I joined in, not wanting her to take all the blame. "We were going to fight the troll—"

"Because we've read so much about it, we thought we could take it on—"

"We would be dead if it wasn't for them," I said, gesturing to Harry and Ron.

"They saved our lives," Hermione agreed.

"Well, in that case," McGonagall said, "I'll have to take five points from each of you for your foolishness." Hermione and I hung our heads low, despite me being secretly thankful we didn't earn detention. "And as for you," McGonagall continued, now speaking to Harry and Ron, "each of you will receive five points for taking down the troll. Now, you four best get back to Gryffindor Tower before I change my mind."

"Yes, Professor," the four of us muttered before taking our leave. The other three slowed down to accommodate my limping.

"She should've given us more than ten points," Ron complained once the teachers were out of earshot.

"Zero, actually, if you consider the points we lost," Harry muttered. "Thanks for taking the blame, by the way," he said to Hermione and me. "We would've all been expelled if you weren't her favorites."

"Yeah, why'd you do that?" Ron asked.

"Because, contrary to popular belief, we're decent people," I said.

There was a short pause before Ron spoke. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said."

"And I'm sorry for laughing," Harry added.

"It's fine," Hermione and I mumbled. She gave me a puzzled look, and I remembered that she hadn't seen Ron lash out at me.

"How did you know to come find us?" I asked. "Or did you just decide you'd save the day?"

"Well, we heard Lavender and Parvati talking about how Hermione was crying in the bathroom or something," Harry explained. Hermione blushed while I rolled my eyes at the mention of Lavender and Parvati. "So we figured that you weren't at the feast because you had gone to find her."

"And then we saw the troll heading towards the girls' bathroom," Ron cut in. "But we didn't know it was the girls' bathroom. The key was in the lock, so we locked it in."

Hermione and I glared at them.

"We're sorry, okay?" Harry said. "Anyways, we thought we'd go find you guys now that the troll had been taken care of, but then we realized the room we locked it in was the girls' bathroom."

"You idiots," Hermione and I muttered.

When we reached the common room, Ron pulled me aside.

"I didn't mean that, you know," he said. "About everyone hating you."

"You don't have to apologize," I assured. "I've heard worse. I mean, you weren't wrong—"

"I don't hate you." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. It might have been the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me. "I mean, I know I sounded like I did, but I didn't mean it, really. It just came out."

"It's okay," I mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

Ron awkwardly broke the already awkward silence. "Can we be friends again?" he stammered.

I smiled. "I'd like that."

He smiled back, and we walked into the common room together to join Harry and Hermione.