That summer seemed to drag more than any other I could remember. I couldn't wait for Narcissa to begin at Hogwarts, so that I could show her everything I loved about that vast, rambling castle. But each day seemed to last an eternity, particularly after mother and father announced that they would be vacationing in Italy with distant relatives and we were to stay with our cousins at their home in London. I had always hated Grimmauld Place, ever since my first visit at five years old when I had wandered too far upstairs and been attacked by a horrible, shrieking ghoul. The house was filled with antique furniture that we children were forbidden to touch, so that living there left you permanently on edge, afraid to move lest you knock over one of Aunt Walburga's precious umbrella stands. Worse than that was the fact we were never allowed outside, for the house was located in a Muggle neighbourhood and under no circumstances was that considered an appropriate place for us to venture. And so we were trapped inside, playing with Sirius and his baby brother, listening to Bella moan about being forced to babysit and Narcissa sigh with boredom. We were all glad to leave the place behind when our parents returned to England, and finally Narcissa received her Hogwarts acceptance letter.

After that it was a blur of travelling to Diagon Alley, purchasing our new schoolbooks and Narcissa's wand (nine inches, blackthorn, unicorn core) and other odds and ends we needed for the start of term. I was scolded for spending too long in front of the display window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, where the latest Cleansweep Five had just been released. Bella laughed at my expression of longing, tugging my hair affectionately and declaring that I should have been born a boy. My mother did not share her amusement; she hurried me into Madam Malkins'with a stern look that told me my fondness for flying had no hope of being encouraged.

Throughout the day, I had expected my little sister to show the same sorts of nerves as I had the previous year. But Narcissa was as composed as ever; not even choosing a wand seemed to disturb her sense of equilibrium. I watched her closely over the following days, waiting for the moment when a hint of worry might cross her flawless features, but she did not oblige.

"Aren't you nervous?" I finally asked the night before September 1st, as I sat on her bed and helped her to brush her long golden hair. I had always loved to comb Narcissa's hair; it was like spun gold in my hands, so different from my own tumble of brown curls. "About tomorrow, I mean?"

"Why should I be nervous?" asked Cissy, genuine confusion in her voice.

I chewed my lower lip in thought. "Well, about being Sorted," I offered at last. "What if… " I lowered my voice. "What if you aren't sorted into Slytherin?"

I watched her expression like a hawk in the full-length mirror opposite the bed, but Cissy only laughed.

"Lucius says it's impossible I'll go anywhere but Slytherin."

Lucius Malfoy, the only son of Abraxas Malfoy, was also to start Hogwarts that year. Since the Malfoys were one of the few families as ancient and rich as the Blacks, Lucius was considered a perfect companion for Narcissa, and they had spent much of the summer owling back and forth.

I wanted to tell my sister that Lucius couldn't possibly know what the Sorting hat would say to her, but I held my tongue. It was a good thing that Narcissa was confident about her destiny.

"I'm so glad we will finally be together again," said Cissy abruptly, turning and giving me an impromptu hug. From Narcissa this was quite a display of affection, and I kissed the crown of her golden head when she turned around once more.

"So am I."

As it turned out, I needn't have worried about Narcissa. She entered the Great Hall that first night looking as proud and as beautiful as I had ever seen her, and when her name was called, she strode confidently forward. The Sorting hat had barely touched her head before it cried 'SLYTHERIN!'

I gave her a hug as she slid in beside me at the table. "Congratulations," I said.

She beamed at me. "Lucius was right," she whispered so that only I could hear. "Didn't I tell you?"

Lucius himself was sorted into Slytherin only minutes later, marking the end of my interest in the Sorting. Everything had gone according to plan and I knew my parents would be pleased. Bella was ecstatic, entertaining half the table with cruel yet funny comments about the other houses. I had not seen her in such a good mood all holidays, and was glad to see her smile.

I settled back into the routine of Hogwarts with ease. It was so wonderful to be back that I didn't even mind when I forgot the vanishing step on the fourth floor staircase and had to be yanked out by Annabelle and Phylissa. Now that Narcissa was here also, my world was complete, and I spent much of that first term floating on a cloud of happiness.

Not everyone seemed to share my enthusiasm, however. That year, we shared Potions with the Gryffindors, and I soon realised that this was not going to be a class in which quiet and peaceful study was possible. The air was thick with tension from the very first day, and matters did not improve after Rabastan's cauldron mysteriously exploded a few weeks into term. The cause was found to be a firecracker, but as Professor Slughorn could not determine who of the Gryffindors had planted it, he was rather powerless to punish the culprit. He compensated for this by keeping all the Gryffindors in over lunchtime, but none of them confessed, and he was forced to let them go without detention. There was no doubt in Rabastan's mind, however, that the explosion had been caused by Frank Longbottom, and from that point on the two of them became the bitterest of enemies.

Sometime in early October, a scroll of parchment appeared on the Slytherin notice board announcing that Quidditch try-outs were to begin in a week's time. In the space left blank for interested students to write their names, I saw both Rabastan's and Leo's signatures. Standing there, my hand twitched with an urge to scrawl my own name. I was as good as Leo on a broom, and I knew I was better than Rabastan. But there were no other girl's names on the page, and I knew how my parents would react if they found out. It was unheard of for a respectable young pureblood witch to play Quidditch. I sighed and trumped off to breakfast without signing.

As it turned out, Leo was given the position of Seeker, having outplayed all of the older boys vying for the vacant position. Rabastan was made a reserve Chaser, although I thought that was more to do with his older brother's position on the team than any talent he himself had displayed. Lucius, who considered himself to be the greatest Quidditch player to grace Slytherin's halls in a century, told anyone who would listen that it was an outrage first-years were not allowed to compete, and that if they were he would be an automatic selection in the team. People agreed with him out of habit, for even then he was considered a future leader.

Narcissa had slotted in nicely to the Slytherin clique. She made friends with Bahani Shafiq and Phiriana Yaxley, her fellow housemates, but spent most of her free time with Bella and me, either sitting in the common room or strolling around the grounds together, much as we always had at home. Of course, as a fourth-year Bella was far too old to play games with us; she had shot up over the summer, and towered over both of us. It was now close to impossible to spend more than a few minutes alone with her, for she was almost always trailed by one or another of the Slytherins, both older and younger than she. I knew by then that the students in the other houses called it a 'gang', but to me it was just a consequence of Bella's magnetic personality, and that ability she had to draw people to her like moths to flame.

I had studied hard over summer, even going so far as to ignore my sisters in favour of reading the new textbooks we were assigned for second year, in the expectation of leaving my classmates behind and officially announcing myself as the best in my year. I imagined handing my report card to my parents at the end of the year, proudly bearing evidence that I had come top of all my classes, and seeing their smiles of approval. But my plans were thwarted, and by none other than the Mudblood Ted Tonks.

Slytherin had Herbology, Charms and Defence with the Hufflepuffs. In Herbology I did not have to try very hard to excel; the plants always seemed to respond to my ministrations, and I found I had a handy memory for the exotic names of some of the plants and their various uses in the world of magical healing and potion-making. But in Charms, where Professor Hexia, a short round woman with a pleasant, rosy face, had assigned us the task of making bubbles appear from the end of our wand ( the theory of which I had read all summer), I could not believe when Tonks succeeded before me. The knowledge that he was still ahead of me despite the fact that he always appeared so casual and spent as much time laughing with his friends as he did actually working, while I did everything as it should be done, made my blood boil in a way I had never felt before, and I was hard pressed not to shoot daggers at him from across the room. My anger did not help the situation, as it made my spell-work erratic, so that instead of bubbles my wand shot sparks and nearly set Annabelle's hair on fire.

Defence was another matter. Professor Bebbington had been replaced, for reasons which were never explained to us, by a very crotchety old wizard rather aptly named Professor Grouch. He began our first class by lecturing us all on the flippant attitude which the younger generation displayed towards the Dark Arts, glaring at us all so fiercely that several students actually leaned back in their seats.

"You there," he snapped, and I smirked when he pointed directly at Tonks. "What would you say if I asked you for the best way of cleaning up a Doxy infestation in my curtains?"

Tonks blinked, evidently nonplussed, and I felt a jolt of satisfaction that he didn't know the answer. How could he, when he had grown up surrounded by Muggles? To my annoyance, however, I saw his friend Anton Fawley whisper the answer out of the corner of his mouth, and a second later Tonks answered, "With Doxycide, sir."

I scowled. The Fawleys were an old pureblood family. Of course he would know how to get rid of Doxies. I thought of what my mother had said, about Mudbloods being helped to achieve better results than they should, and felt the frown on my face deepen.

"You, girl with the scowl," I blinked in shock and embarrassment as I realised Professor Grouch was addressing me. "Don't look so miserable, we haven't even started the lesson yet. How would I deal with a hive of Cornish pixies?"

I swallowed, and opened my mouth to speak, but my mind was as blank as the blackboard behind the Professor's desk. After a moment Professor Grouch grunted.

"Perhaps less sulking, and more listening, Miss Black?"

A few of the Hufflepuffs sniggered, and I felt myself blaze beet red. I stared at the desk, wanting more than anything to sink into the floor.

Things did not particularly improve from that point. Admittedly, Professor Grouch was horrible to everyone, but he seemed to take a particular disliking to me, and always went out of his way to embarrass me in front of the class. I grew to dread Defence, and longed for the days when Professor Bebbington would make us read entire chapters in silence during class.

It was also around this time that I experienced my first taste of being on the receiving end of prejudice. I remember the day as clearly now as though it was yesterday.

I was walking alone, returning from a study session in the library in which I had spent far too much time worrying about my grades than doing anything productive. It was pleasant enough weather for November, a clear sky and weak sun, and I was contemplating whether it would be worth going for a walk around the grounds, when someone rounded the corner and ran straight into me.

I stumbled but did not fall, righting myself against the wall just in time. The other person, an older girl I did not recognise, lost her grip on the pile of books she had been holding. They fell to the floor with several loud thumps, and I heard her swear in frustration.

I was about to walk on when she lifted her face and saw me. Her eyes widened instantly in recognition, and an expression of pure hatred passed across her features.

"You," she spat, ignoring her books in favour of rounding on me. I stayed very still, my brain racing furiously. I did not recognise this girl. I knew nothing about her. And yet she was looking at me as though I was a slug she had just discovered stuck to the bottom of her shoe. "Why don't you look where you're going?"

I stared at her and said nothing, though I knew my expression had gone very cold.

"Bet you think you don't have to look," the girl continued in a spiteful voice. "Bet you think everyone else should just get out of your way, don't you? Royalty and all that." She sneered.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, sticking my nose in the air as I had seen my mother do when confronted with unwanted attention.

The girl's glare only intensified. "You should be ashamed to walk here," she hissed, and I had to force myself not to take a step away from her. Despite my words, my heart was hammering in my chest, and my palms felt clammy with sweat. I had known for a while that there were people at Hogwarts who disliked my family, but this was the first time I had seen such hatred up close. "You and your whole inbred family. You're a stain on the wizarding world."

"What did you just say?" said a male voice directly behind me.

Rabastan Lestrange was standing a few feet away, a very ugly look on his face. He strode forward until he was standing by my side, and I could feel the menace radiating from him in waves.

"What's your name?" he demanded of her.

I thought I saw a brief flash of fear in the girl's eyes, but it was quickly gone. "Go to hell, Lestrange," she spat, raising herself to her full height. "I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be," said Rabastan, and his voice was so heavy with threats it sent a shiver up my spine. "Your cards are numbered, Mudblood."

The girl tossed her head, but I noticed that her hands were trembling as she shoved them into the pockets of her robe, no doubt clenching around her wand. "Get out of my way," she said in a faux-tough voice, side-stepping me and hurrying away up off the corridor, leaving her books scattered on the floor around my feet.

Rabastan watched her go with an almost hungry look on his face. "Don't worry Andy," he said softly once we were alone. "She'll pay for that."

I shifted, not sure what to say. I was in shock, unable to understand what had happened. It had been an accident. I had done nothing to that girl, and yet she had looked at me as if I had murdered her entire family. Her words rang in my head,you should be ashamed to walk here.

I had hoped Rabastan's words were empty threats, since all I wanted was to forget the incident ever happened. But that night at dinner as we sat with Bella and his older brother, he proved that they were not.

"Andy had a run in with a Mudblood today," he said, and the idle chatter around us came to an abrupt halt.

"What?" Bella's voice quivered with outrage, and her head swivelled to look at me, eyes fierce. "What happened?"

I opened my mouth, but found myself unable to explain. Rabastan happily filled the silence.

"Some Mud girl ran into her, then abused her. Tell them what she called you, Andy." Rabastan stared at me, and I again opened my mouth to speak. But I found I could not repeat what the girl had said to me. Impatient, Rabastan continued. "She called Andy inbred," he said, and there was a hiss of outrage around the table. I felt Bella tense beside me. "She said, You should be ashamed to walk here. You're a stain on the wizarding world."

I winced as the words stabbed into me anew. Underneath the table, Bella's hand found mine, her grip so tight I thought she might be cutting off my circulation.

"Who was it?" my sister asked in a voice I had never heard her use before, a voice that promised all kind of retribution.

Rabastan twisted in his seat, craning his neck to see over the hundreds of students crammed into the Great Hall. "There," he said at last, pointing to the Gryffindor table, and following his finger I saw that he was correct. It was the girl from earlier, sitting in between a couple of friends. She looked up as he pointed, and saw us; the colour drained from her face, but she stared back defiantly, lifting her chin in response to what must have been a dozen different Slytherin death stares.

"I know her," said Hadrian Flint. "She's in my year. Her name is Sarah Hobbs."

"Filthy Mudblood," growled Rodolphus.

Bella laughed suddenly, but it was not a particularly pleasant sound, and I cringed to hear it. "Don't worry," she said, still squeezing my hand underneath the table. "She'll learn to respect her betters. She'll never bother you again Andy."

I found my voice all at once. "I don't – it's fine – I mean, I didn't – it's not – " I broke off under Bella's gaze. "It's really not a big deal."

"It's the principle," she replied, eyes shining with conviction. "No one is allowed to speak to my sister that way. No one. And if you don't make an example of them then nothing will ever change."

I struggled to argue against this logic. I suppose at the time it seemed much easier to agree, and hope that by tomorrow they would have forgotten all about it. Perhaps I was still naïve, still believing in my sister's inner goodness, still sure that some kind of moral compass existed in my world which I could hold onto.

At any rate, it did not take long for me to realise that the world I was living in was very different from what I had first imagined. Two days later, I heard the whispers in the corridor, and knew that the incident between myself and the Gryffindor girl had not been forgotten by my housemates.

"Did you hear… in the Hospital Wing…"

"…broke out in boils all over…"

"…couldn't get the mark out."

The teachers could never pin anything on my sister, nor on any of her friends. No one was ever punished for the attack on Sarah Hobbs. But I knew who was responsible, and so did most of the student body, even if they had no proof. And I felt that knowledge like a weight upon my shoulders for the rest of term.

The next time I saw Sarah, she was surrounded by her friends and wearing a bandage over one hand. I almost stopped when I saw her, a sudden, irrational urge building in me to apologise, even though I had done nothing to her myself besides accidentally knock a few books out of her hands. But when she saw me her expression filled with fear, and she rushed past me as quickly as was physically possible, never meeting my eyes. Her friends glared at me as they followed, and I was left with the first bad memory of my time at Hogwarts.

Life moved at a very fast pace, and I did not have the time or energy to dwell for long on 'the incident with the Gryffindor', as I began to call it in my mind. After a month or so all that was left was a lingering irritation with Rabastan, and a feeling of guilt whenever I passed that spot near the library where she had run into me.

My performance in Charms improved with practise and application, but never enough to beat the Tonks boy. It still annoyed me, but I was careful now not to do anything that might draw my housemates' attention to him. I considered our battle a private one, and I was determined to best him through my own effort and skill, not cheap tactics of intimidation.

I had never actually spoken to Tonks since that first day on the Hogwarts' Express when he asked me if I was alright, although I had watched him almost owlishly since then. That situation changed one day when Professor Hexia paired me with him to practise summoning charms. I felt an almost guilty thrill when she announced the pairings; at last, I would get the chance to speak to the boy that had tormented me academically for the past year and a half.

I was determined to act as cool as possible. As I approached his table, however, I saw his two best friends roll their eyes to the ceiling, and I distinctly heard Anton Fawley whisper "Bad luck mate" before walking off. My self-confidence shrank like a withering apple, and I sat down opposite him with a scowl.

He stared at me blankly for a moment, as though he didn't quite know what to say. "Uh, hi," he said, sticking out a hand, which I ignored. "I'm Ted."

"I know who you are," I responded coldly.

"You do? Okay then, well – do you want to go first?"

He was polite, and friendly, and that only made me more annoyed. After my last run-in with a Mudblood, I had half expected him to hate me. But there was no real emotion on Ted's face, just wariness, as though he wasn't sure what to expect from me.

I concentrated hard when casting the spell, determined to show that I was better than him. The rock we were summoning rose an inch or so off the desk, wobbled slightly, then fell back down with a thud.

I glanced at Ted to find him watching me with a small frown. When he caught me looking he smiled.

"Okay, well that was good. My turn?"

I shrugged, pretending not to look as he lifted his own wand.

His tongue poked out from between his lips, making him resemble a rather shaggy looking puppy dog. He raised his wand and spoke in a clear voice, "Accio rock."

The rock lifted from the table and flew towards him. He caught it in one hand, looking pleased with himself.

"Well done," I spoke through gritted teeth. I waited for him to place the rock back on the table before raising my wand once more. "Accio -"

There was a roar somewhere behind me. Twisting in my seat, I saw Rabastan clutching his head in pain. Apparently someone's rock had just hit him hard on the back of the skull. On the other side of the room, Anton Fawley and Harry Brown were doubled up in laughter.

Rabastan whirled on his heel, eyes flashing. He pointed his wand at Fawley, who immediately stopped laughing, but before he could so much as open his mouth Professor Hexia had positioned herself between the two boys, her own wand out and a very cross look on her normally pleasant face.

"That's enough," she snapped. "Lestrange, never point your wand at another student in my class again. Fawley, I don't see anything funny about potential skull fractures, do you?"

"No Ma'am," Fawley answered with apparent remorse, but as soon as the teacher's back was turned I saw him smirk and high-five Brown.

I turned back to Tonks with a scowl. Boys were stupid. I waved my wand rather haphazardly, and the rock shot straight up into the air. Ted caught it as it came back down, looking at me with a rather sheepish expression.

"Want another shot?" he asked.

.