Then they march past the cheering crowd and leave the Hall, one after another, and with their heads held high.
"Poor unicorn!" Daphne exclaims, after Malfoy, who was almost late for Binns' class, has summarised the events of his nightly detention.
Tracey frowns. "You were in the Forbidden Forest? Is that even … allowed?"
"I'm sorry, but you missed breakfast," Goyle says sympathetically, as if that would be worse than the assassination of a unicorn.
Ted waves dismissively. "Draco can skip a meal without collapsing. He's not Vincent."
Crabbe cracks his knuckles. "Watch it, or you're the one to collapse!"
"If I could have a little more silence," the ghost professor says in his sleep-inducing voice.
That's how different the teachers handle things. If someone had the guts to disturb Snape's class with private conversations, they would most certainly not make it to the break alive.
While Malfoy buries his face in his arms folded on the table, Pansy says quietly, "Dumbledore's going to bring disaster upon us all."
"Isn't that a bit exaggerated?"
"Millicent, he let a troll walk into the castle, he's hiding a Cerberus on the third floor, and don't even get me started on the colours and patterns of his robes - I bet half the school suffers from headaches already!"
"And I almost got killed," says Malfoy, without looking up, in a muffled voice.
Pansy rolls her eyes. "And what he says."
"So, that blood-sucking creature was sure to be a vampire," ponders Blaise.
"But vampires only drink human blood," says Tracey.
"Maybe there are vegetarian vampires, too," he jokes.
"That's nonsense."
Binns clears his throat and Blaise and Tracey keep talking in whispers. Meanwhile, Pansy's thoughts drift back to the letter she received one week after the Christmas holidays. It contained only one sentence: You will pay for this. In French.
This might have worried someone else, but it was a triumph for Pansy. She would have loved to have been there when breakfast at Beauxbatons was interrupted by the Howler, which proclaimed in Pansy's voice, heightened a hundredfold, that Brienne can be a lot of fun - she can't keep any secrets, and it's better not to share a bed with her because of her little "mishaps" she has sometimes, but she can, for example, burp on command like no one else!
Just facts, but Brienne ratted on her, of course, and her parents were so appalled that they're not going to visit the Parkinsons ever again. Accordingly, Gemma was upset too, but Pansy doesn't intend to explain why she had sent the Howler in the first place; at her house, the Andrew topic is hushed up. At least, her father shouldn't be unhappy about the situation, because he never liked the Duvals.
Pansy looks over to Malfoy, who still hasn't lifted his head. So far, a "Thank you for not telling anyone about my brother and exploiting the one weak point I will never overcome for your personal pleasure" has not passed her lips.
She hesitates for a moment, then tears off a small piece of parchment and writes, On a scale from one to ten, how much are your parents going to freak out about last night and give Dumbledore hell? I'm guessing twelve.
She folds the note, writes Blondie on it and flicks it at his ear.
He startles up and stares at the paper lying next to his arm. Then he unfolds it, scribbles something and returns it to Pansy via Goyle, Blaise and Tracey.
Of course, Blondie has been crossed out and replaced with Midget. His short answer: Zero. Won't tell (detention!).
Pansy smirks, writing Coward underneath.
But this time, he doesn't even blink, but puts the note into his pocket and continues his nap.
~.~.~
Everyone at Hogwarts had welcomed the first snow as much as the awakening of spring. But with the first muggy-warm day, the mood drops, because above all, the arrival of summer means that the final exams take place.
Unlike the students from second year onwards, the first-years complain that they are stressed out about the studying, whereupon they either reap a tired smile or some very nasty looks from the fifth- and seventh-years. With the Ministry's upcoming O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams, they have reached a stress level that Pansy and the others have yet to climb, as their future careers depend on the results (at least, when their mothers don't happen to own a fashion label).
Soon, the smell of coffee, paper and panic fills the air. Only Peeves has the time of his "life", with relentlessly knocking books out of hands and singing a song whose text is a mere sequence of year dates, potion ingredients and star coordinates. So the silcence of the library and the strict Madam Pince, who admonishes everyone who makes a peep, are very appreciated these days. But there is still a handful of people who take the situation with gallows humour and wear self-made badges, saying The end is near or Approach at your own risk.
And one morning, D-Day has come. Pansy masters the exams in Potions (thanks to Snape), Charms and History easily, mostly ticks the right boxes in the Herbology questionnaire, can name the neighbouring constellations of Cassiopeia and write a half-page essay on Mars in Astronomy.
Her result in Transfiguration is mediocre, because the snuff-box still squeaks and supposedly has a tiny whisker. McGonagall looks grumpy, but Pansy is happy to have passed the hardest of all subjects.
When she assigns the magical creatures to their most dangerous features and vulnerabilities in the last test, she has no idea it's the last time she ever talks to Professor Quirrell; after the exams, Defence Against the Dark Arts is cancelled, because it's said that Quirrell went away on a trip and does not plan to return to Hogwarts. But with the upcoming summer break, the students are too happy to worry about it, or about Harry Potter lying unconscious in the hospital wing for unknown reasons.
As far as Pansy can tell, this means in particular that the Gryffindors don't have a Seeker, thus losing miserably in the last game against Ravenclaw. This in return makes Slytherin win the Quidditch Cup, which had already been thought lost (not that the girls would understand this connection, although the boys keep explaining it to them with enthusiasm). Furthermore, the Slytherins can look forward to being awarded the House Cup, and to the following party in the common room, for which arrangement the sixth-year Prefects are traditionally responsible. In short: the school year couldn't have ended better.
~.~.~
"What a year it has been!" Dumbledore calls through the green and silver decorated Great Hall on the last evening. "Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were … you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts … Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with 312 points -"
No one claps at the Slytherin table, but there are many gleeful smiles.
"- in third, Hufflepuff, with 352 -"
Polite applause.
"- Ravenclaw have 426 -"
Pansy lets out a supportive whoop for her father's and Padma's house.
"- and Slytherin, 472."
Now it is deafeningly loud at her table. They have been working for this moment the whole year!
"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin. However, recent events must be taken into account."
They pause.
Events?
The Headmaster clears his throat. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes … First - to Mr Ronald Weasley … for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."
While the cheering now comes from the red table and question marks are reflected in the other faces, a Gryffindor Prefect jumps up. "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"
"WHAT?" John Bletchley blurts, and Amanda Turner adds, "No way, he's a first-year!"
But Dumbledore goes on undeterred, "Second - to Miss Hermione Granger … for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."
"He doesn't mean Snape's potions riddle, does he?" Alex Sykes asks at the table next to them. "I solved that, too!"
"So did I!" says Penelope Clearwater.
"Third - to Mr Harry Potter … for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."
Quite a few Slytherins throw their hands up in despair; Gryffindor just got enough points to belying level with them.
"And what about our points?"
But the Hufflepuff Prefect's question is drowned out by the joyful shouting, until Dumbledore silences the room by raising his hand. A pin drops somewhere. "There are all kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr Neville Longbottom."
And Gryffindor wins.
Pansy covers her ears, as pandemonium breaks loose. But the faces around her speak for themselves: bewilderment, anger, disappointment. Aside from the fact that she has no clue what Hermione and her mates have to do with the riddles around the Cerberus - why, in Salazar's name, couldn't Dumbledore award his 'last-minute points' the day before instead of showing the Slytherins up like that?
"Which means, we need a little change of decoration," the Headmaster shouts, clapping his hands, whereupon all the garlands turn red and golden.
A Slytherin seventh-year stands up. She places her wand against her throat, so the others at her table can hear her, and says, "You know what? Let Dumbledore's darlings over there have their little victory. We know what we've accomplished, and we will not recognise it!"
A lot of nodding.
"I'm not going to leave Hogwarts in anger just because my house has been wronged, as so often in the past."
With a provocative expression she turns around to Dumbledore, who ignores her.
"So, put together your meal and let's celebrate the farewell of my class in our common room!"
In loud approval, the Slytherins get up from the benches and fill their empty plates with the delicacies in front of them. Then they march past the cheering crowd and leave the Hall, one after another, and with their heads held high.
~.~.~
The Hogwarts Express is slowing down now, and Pansy still wonders why house parties like last night's aren't being held more often. After the initial ranting about Dumbledore, music and laughter soon filled the common room, together with silliness, dancing and a few smuggled bottles of Firewhisky at a later hour, when the younger students were sent to their dorms under protest. The only one not enjoying himself was the Bloody Baron, who, in view of the lost House Cup, vowed his 'dreadful vengeance' to anyone who would listen.
"Promise we'll write each other," Millicent says, after they've finally got off the train and the boys have left in all directions.
"If I survive the summer," Daphne murmurs, looking at her certificate.
"Acceptable is all right," says Pansy, putting Mabel's basket onto her suitcase. "I've got one too."
"Yes, one. Not three!"
Tracey rolls her eyes. "And you did well in the other subjects. Look at Goyle, he even got a Poor!"
"Oh, great, I feel a lot better now."
"No one has performed as perfectly as her anyway," says Millicent in a spiteful tone, pointing at Hermione, who hugs her Muggle parents a few metres away (she had told everyone she got an Outstanding in six out of seven subjects).
After Millicent and Tracey said goodbye, Daphne stands on tiptoes. "Maybe my parents aren't here yet. My little sister keeps causing delays, that's her hobby, so to speak. Besides her snails breeding, of course."
Pansy thinks she must have heard wrong. "Snailsbreeding?"
"Yes, but not the ones with a shell, but slugs. The more disgusting an animal is, the more Tori loves it. We already had a woodlouse colony and an earthworm collection as well. Have you spotted your parents?"
"Our house-elf will pick me up," explains Pansy. "She Apparates us home."
"Your parents aren't coming?" Daphne asks, puzzled.
"My dad's not here, he works for the Ministry's International Magical Office of Law and goes on business trips for days sometimes, and my mum's always too busy."
Daphne pouts. "Pity, I would have loved to meet them, especially your mum."
"Then we'll all go shopping together as soon as the new book list arrives from Hogwarts."
"Great idea, we'll do that!"
Suddenly, a voice sounds across the station, "Daphne, we're here, you blind bat!"
They turn around. A girl is sticking her tongue out at Daphne, until she is reprimanded by the woman and the man standing next to her. All four of them have the same dark blond hair and blue eyes.
"Charming," Pansy remarks.
"What I said," Daphne sighs, kisses her on the cheek as she says goodbye and drags the suitcase with her.
"And don't forget to practise the scale," Pansy calls after her, because Dumbledore approved the setting up of a school choir after Daphne and Lisa had collected enough signatures. All they have to do now is to recruit members.
Daphne turns around, beaming. "It's going to be so cool, don't you want to -"
"I'll think about it!"
Never.
When Daphne and her family disappears into the crowd, Pansy takes a deep breath. Soon, she will be home. Finally!
She looks into her pocket mirror, the red steam locomotive behind her. Grinning, Pansy closes the mirror.
She can't wait until it's September again.
~.~.~
~ End of Year One ~
~.~.~