As far as I was made aware, practically all of Slytherin house got sick. Eventually, Madam Pomfrey relocated most students back into the common room because the Infirmary was too crowded. By the time it was noon, a handful of students had stopped feeling sick and showed no sign of symptoms. James and I took this as our cue to pretend we weren't sick anymore so that we could finally stop switching buckets with Wyatt and Isaiah (of course, Elijah refused to lend his bucket).
I wondered where Madam Pomfrey was even finding all of these buckets for everyone, but I didn't get to ponder over that question any longer. I encountered Hermione Granger as I trekked to the Great Hall.
"Where were you? We must complete the Arithmancy homework," she said urgently. She was on her way out of the Great Hall, possibly having finished eating her lunch.
"Haven't you heard? Most of Slytherin house got sick this morning," I informed her quickly, without feeling the need to lie about being sick myself.
"You were sick? Wait, what do you mean most of Slytherin house?"
"Whatever, sure, let's do the homework," I said dismissively, not in the mood to explain everything.
"Hang on—"
"I'll meet you in the library, okay?" I emphasized as I began to walk past her. "I'll eat lunch first."
Hermione opened her mouth to inquire me some more, but I was already out of earshot and into the Great Hall.
The Slytherin table was practically empty, except for perhaps a dozen students. From afar, I could see the golden blonde hair of Daphne Greengrass. She was eating alone at the far end of the table.
"Daphne," I called, traipsing up to her. She looked up at me mutely, her spoon in her mouth. "Were you also feeling sick this morning?"
"Oh, I heard about that going on," she said, placing her spoon back inside its bowl. "I actually skipped breakfast, this morning," she added with a shrug. "I suppose someone tried to play a prank or something."
"Right." I'd forgotten Daphne often liked to skip meals for some reason.
"I haven't seen you eat with me in a while," she said, raising her eyebrows with a seemingly restrained grudge as I sat in front of her.
"I know," I pursed my lips. "But it's nothing personal, of course."
"It's Draco isn't it?" she asked, moving her lips to one side as she gazed at me.
I hesitated.
"How'd you even manage to befriend the S4 like that?" she suddenly questioned, a mix of bewilderment and surprise in her tone.
"I dunno," I huffed a laughed. "I don't even know if they consider me a friend. I guess, they probably think I'm some random third-year kid who keeps following them around."
Daphne grunted a "hmm" as she kept on consuming her soup.
"Well, they keep Malfoy away, so that's good, I suppose," I added with a smiley smirk.
Daphne scoffed a laugh.
"What?"
"It always has to do with Draco, in the end," she indicated wryly.
"Why do you say this?"
"Honestly," she began, inhaling loudly with exasperation, "I don't even understand what happened between you two."
"What do you mean?" I eyed her dubiously, my brow furrowed.
"You two used to be close-knit — tight," she shook her head, and her eyes grew slightly wider as she spoke. "And then you randomly told him that you refuse to be friends with him anymore, yet you stay friends with everyone else, but ignore him specifically — it's just very odd."
I stared at Daphne, my mouth hanging open with uncertainty. I couldn't exactly deny what she was saying, but I also felt like I should at least justify myself.
"Forget it," she said quickly before swallowing one last spoonful of soup.
I remained silent, staring blankly at Daphne as she got up from her seat. She gave me a transient smile as she swung her bag over her shoulder.
"I'll see you later."
I nodded at her as she left the Slytherin table, and soon after, she left the Great Hall as well.
It wasn't necessarily the first time that it occurred to me how oddly I had ended my ties with Malfoy. I never told him precisely why I did, and if I did tell him, he would know I was a hypocrite. I unfriended Malfoy for his sheer disrespect and hatred towards muggles and muggleborns, yet I stayed friends with everyone else who were just as bad, if not, possibly worse than Malfoy.
Sure, there were a few Slytherins such as Tracey Davis who sincerely could not care less about a person's blood status, but I could not deny that most of Slytherin house was packed with prejudiced pricks like Malfoy. If I'd stop being friends with all the blood supremacists, I would practically denounce my own house. Salazar Slytherin was a proud pureblooded wizard who hated muggles and muggleborns.
It all felt so wrong, yet I couldn't fathom how I could ever sort this predicament out without denouncing a part of my identity. Did I even belong to Slytherin house?
"Where are all the Slytherins?" someone suddenly asked behind me. I spun around and found Amirah Flowers looking at me with wonder. Her blue streak of hair among her dark hair was slightly lighter than I remembered, although her pale face remained just as pink and freckly as it always did.
"Got sick," I said.
"Really? All at once? That's quite serious," she placed a hand over her mouth. "Is Isaiah sick as well?"
"Unfortunately, yes," I informed her solemnly. "He's in the common room with everyone else."
Amirah nodded and sat next to me, placing her bag on the empty seat next to hers.
"Hope you don't mind if I eat here," she said as she reached for some serving of some kind of bread-like pudding I had never noticed before. "I'm rather fond at the idea of eating at an empty table, actually."
I chuckled softly as I gazed down the Slytherin table, once again noticing just how oddly deserted it was. Not that I agreed with having nearly all of Slytherin house's breakfast poisoned, but I had to admit that it was quite soothing to eat quietly at such vacancy. No Draco Malfoy to worry about.
"Blackwood!" a snarly voice barked. I dramatically rolled my eyes at him, my jaw clenching as he approached me and Amirah. "Why is there a Ravenclaw eating at the Slytherin table?" He stood in front of us, on the other side of the table, and got a better look at her. "And a Mudblood too!"
"Woah, hey, Malfoy, no one asked for your opinion," I stood up, crossing my arms as I glared at him from across the table. Amirah looked up at both of us with her lips parted slightly with uncertainty. "And she's not even wearing her uniform — how do you know that she's a Ravenclaw or even a muggleborn." I actually wasn't aware that she was a muggleborn.
"Hah," he scoffed. "Don't be shy, Blackwood. You can say it."
"What are you even yapping about, Malfoy?" I glowered at him.
"You can call her Mudblood. It's not a bad word, Blackwood," he sneered with a contemptuous laugh.
"Er — actually, it is a bad word — it's a slur, Malfoy" I corrected, eyeing him intently as if he were incredibly and incomprehensibly dimwitted — which he was.
Amirah didn't even seem bothered by this back and forth. She just kept eating her bread-like pudding, awkwardly glancing between Malfoy and me as we fumed at each other.
"Mudblood," Malfoy squawked nastily. "Get lost. Now." Amirah didn't seem to want to cause any more trouble and began rising from her seat in silence.
"No, Malfoy, mind your own business," I seethed as I pushed Amirah back down on her seat.
"I don't listen to you anymore, blood traitor," he said with venom in his tongue.
"Well, you don't have your two goons with you today, now do you?" I jeered as I threateningly placed my hands on the table. I thought saw a flicker of fearful realization spark through Malfoy's eyes, but that must've been my wishful imagination.
"You don't scare me, Blackwood," he assured, his lips contorting with displeasure.
"Really?" And I had the craziest idea—
Malfoy seemed to have read my mind, but he didn't move in time. I had already climbed over the Slytherin table and pounced on him. I heard the clang of dishes as they sprawled across the table after I had brushed against them when I carelessly jumped over the table. Something wet had spilled over my pants but I ignored it as I tried to pin Malfoy down on the floor.
"Take it back, Malfoy!" I said, straddling him to try to hold him still as I held his collar with my hands. He was trying really hard to wiggle out of my grasp, and I was trying really hard to look like it was easy to hold him down.
"GET OFF ME!" he protested, his legs kicking behind me as he attempted to pull my hands off his collar with his hands.
"Apologize to Amirah for calling her a mudblood," I insisted, gripping his collar so hard I felt like I could accidentally rip his shirt off if he managed to push me off.
Before Malfoy could squeak a response, an invisible force pulled us both metres apart. I felt slightly disoriented as I stood up and was unpleasantly met with the dark voice of Professor Snape.
"Enough," he snapped, his wand pulled out between the two of us. "Have this childish dispute cease at once," he enunciated every word with such emphasis, I almost felt them echoing inside my head afterwards. "Retreat to your common rooms in a civilized manner — all three of you," he added with a scornful glance at Amirah Flowers, who gingerly placed her spoon back in its bowl as she simultaneously reached for her bag. "This instant."
"Yes, professor," Malfoy said obediently. I hadn't really paid attention to him until now, but he was currently standing next to me looking quite dishevelled.
Snape's apathetic expression, as always, remained unreadable, but I knew it was best to withdraw from his presence before he could start handing out detentions. With our lack of opposition towards Snape working as tacit agreement, all three of us silently filed out of the Great Hall. Together, we quietly reached the grand staircase.
Malfoy muttered something about his father as we went our separate ways from Amirah, but I wasn't really paying attention to him. I was furious at Malfoy for his relentless efforts to make my and everyone's life unbearable, but I was also disheartened at myself for having reacted so intensely towards him. I did despise him, but it was daunting how easily he could provoke me.
As we got deeper into the dungeons toward the Slytherin common room, I'd just remembered that Hermione was waiting for me in the library so that we could complete our Arithmancy homework. I knew we were nearing another set of stairs that could lead me to the upper floors close to the Charms classroom, and therefore the library, but I didn't want Malfoy to notice me.
I gradually began to walk slower than him, still traipsing behind him. He didn't seem to take notice or to care, for now. As we neared the set of stairs that would lead me to the upper floors, I lingered back and tiptoed to the set of stairs. Before Malfoy could turn around and notice my disappearance, I crept up the stairs trying to swiftly make my way up while not making any noise.
Just as I turned the corner of the stairs, not having reached the ground-floor yet, I heard Malfoy's voice holler, "Blackwood!"
Without thinking, I sped up the stairs as fast as I could. My footsteps were too loud for me to notice if Malfoy was trailing behind me or not, but I didn't risk stalling to look behind me. As rapidly as my legs could carry me, I reached the first-floor and zoomed into the corridor.
My bag bounced on my side as I sprinted down the hallway. After turning right, I finally found the library. I knew Madame Pince would give me a hard time if she saw me running in the library, so I slowed down into a shuffle as I moved across the tall rows of dark-wooden bookshelves.
While I looked for Hermione, I tentatively took a gander behind me. No Malfoy in sight. I wasn't aware if he had followed me or not, but I had to admit that running this much on a Saturday afternoon felt kind of thrilling. I could feel that my cheeks had warmed up, and my spatial awareness seemed grander. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as I breathed out my exhaustion.
I caught Hermione's bushy brown hair by a window on the other side of the library. With a jovial smile plastered on my face, I walked between two large library bookcases and met the Gryffindor girl at her table.
"Hermione," I said, almost breathlessly — I was still catching my breath from having run all the way from the dungeons to the library.
"Maeve," she said, looking at me in wonder. "Did you run here?"
"Yeah," I nodded as I sat in front of her.
I spent the rest of that afternoon in the library with Hermione. I thought I was never going to see the light of day with that Arithmancy project, but by the time it was supper, we had somehow managed to complete all of it. Hermione and I walked out of the library together.
I felt like a bunch of numbers and formulas were permanently engraved in my brain and I was strongly looking forward to eating some proper food. I hadn't really eaten lunch earlier — and I blame Malfoy for that, of course — so all I ate while working with Hermione was some mushed-up cookies that I had found at the bottom of my bag, and a blueberry muffin Hermione was kind enough to offer me.
When we entered the Great Hall, all I was thinking about was food. Without bothering to even glance at the Slytherin table, I followed Hermione to the Gryffindor table, where the Weasleys and Harry were already seated and eating together.
I sat next to George, with Fred on his other side, and Hermione sat next to me, with Harry and Ron in front of us.
"I didn't see you at breakfast, little Maeve," George said as I began serving my plate with food. I ignored the part where he called me little.
"Well, I'm glad I didn't, have you seen what happened to the Slytherins after breakfast?" I huffed with a shake of my head. "I can't believe you two really did that." I turned my head in their direction. They both looked just as surprised as Ron and Harry, seated across.
"What do you mean?" Fred began.
"You don't think we had anything to do with that, do you?" George continued, looking slightly taken aback.
"Well," I hesitated, glancing between their faces. They both had a genuine air of complete innocence. "Yesterday, I saw you two emerging from the kitchens—"
"And we weren't alone, were we?" George put on a look of disappointment on his face.
"Hang on," my mouth remained open but no words came out as I tried to recall that platinum blonde-haired girl's name. "Ivy Law—?"
"What's up, guys," a jolly voice said. She sat next to Fred. "Hi Maeve," she nodded at me as she grabbed a green apple from the table platters. "You guys talking about me?"
"Ivy," Fred said with his eyes closed as he breathed in, his lips pursing up slightly in displeasure. "Where were you all day?"
"Nowhere," she shrugged before bitting into her vibrant green apple. She seemed so casual yet there was an air of utmost poise about her.
"Did you hear about what happened to the Slytherins, this morning?" George mustered grudgingly.
"I know," she laughed. "And you're welcome." She giggled wryly.
"I can't believe you actually went on and did it," Fred was shaking his head in disappointment.
"I thought we told you that was a bit much—"
"Ugh," she rolled her eyes. "Can we not talk about this in front of everyone?" Her nose scrunched in disgust, perhaps directed at herself, possibly directed at the twins. I sensed something familiar about her, but I couldn't quite place my finger on it.
So, Fred and George really are innocent! I misunderstood them. It was this Ivy Law girl all along who had done it. I could not believe that this confident, elegant-mannered girl would play such a cruel joke on people.
"Fine, but I'll have you know that George and I are reconsidering your position as our pranks assistant," Fred said sternly, and Ivy frowned.
"What—?!"
"Erm, Bla— Maeve?" Ron said. I snapped my attention away from Fred and George's quarrel with Ivy Law. "I think this guy wants to speak with you—" he pointed vaguely behind me.
I slowly spun around my seat to meet whoever was looming behind me.
James crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at me. His face was contorting with uncertainty. I was still chewing on my potatoes as I stared back up at him.
"Ah, The Great Mr. Lancaster. Fancy seeing you here," George turned around to face his classmate, while Fred was seemingly still arguing with Ivy.
"I'm not here for you, Weasley," he said, an air of impatience in his voice.
"Oh, I know, you want to kidnap my best friend, Maeve, don't you?"
James ignored George's sarcastic comment as he said, "Blackwood, you're coming with me."
"What is it with everyone telling me what to do!" I sighed very dramatically and loudly. "No! I am not coming with you, James. I am eating my meal because I haven't eaten in ages and-—"
"Fine." Before I could finish my complaints, James pushed himself between me and Hermione and sat with all of us at the Gryffindor table. I gaped at him in disbelief.
He casually grabbed the plate from Hermione's other side and served himself some food from the table.
"Eat," he gestured at my food-filled plate. I gradually did so, glancing up at him every few seconds.
No one said a word, while James began eating casually and comfortably as if he belonged at the Gryffindor table. Hermione awkwardly scooched a few inches away from him, sliding her plate away with her. Harry gave me a look of utter perplexion, to which I shrugged unknowingly. Ron was looking at James with unhinged skepticism as if he were expecting the boy to suddenly start throwing food at him.
"Well, I thought it was quite funny, actually," I caught a part of Ivy and Fred's now whispered conversation. I was not trying to eavesdrop, but everyone else at my side of the table was being weirdly quiet because of James' presence, and so, my ears naturally caught on to their voices.
"Ivy, it was cruel," Fred chastised.
"It was a prank—"
I clearly wasn't the only one accidentally eavesdropping, and Ivy seemed to have noticed everyone's odd silence as she cut herself short.
"I'm not hungry anymore," she said suddenly, and louder this time for everyone to hear without trying. She stood up from her seat, her bag over her shoulder.
"Ivy," Fred called, but she ignored him as she walked away from the Gryffindor table and into the entrance hall.
"So, it was Ivy?" I asked tentatively, once she was out of earshot.
Fred eyed me with his arms crossed but didn't say anything. George cleared his throat.
"She means well," George shrugged his hands opened in uncertainty.
"She poisoned nearly all of Slytherin house," I said contemptuously.
"Who? That girl who just left?" I had forgotten that James was sitting next to me and eating with us. I jumped slightly at the sudden sound of his voice. My eyes widened, as I slowly turned my face over to James.
"Well—" I began.
"I knew it was a bloody Gryffindor." James shook his head as he wiped his lips with a tissue paper. "Well, that answers my question. I suppose I don't need to speak with you anymore, Blackwood."
I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn't think of what to say. I knew that if James walked away with this information, there was a big chance that he would tell all of Slytherin house... Although I did not agree with what Ivy did, I did not think that she deserved the wrath of a hundred grumpy, Gryffindor-hating, just-recovered-from-vomiting-all-day Slytherins — in fact, no one deserved that wrath.
I was thinking too much. By the time I wrapped up my thoughts, James already left the Gryffindor table.
"Maeve, he's going to tell his housemates," Hermione said in slight desperation mixed with compassion. "That poor girl..."
"I — erm — I'll try to talk to him," I said quickly as I swiftly stood up from my seat.
"We should probably warn Ivy about this," was the last thing I heard from the Gryffindor table as I sprinted after James.
"James!" I called when I entered the entrance hall. He was already approaching the grand staircases. "James!" I called again.
Just as I had caught up to him, he spun around to find me catching my breath. I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him down a set of stairs. I then guided him into an empty corridor.
"Why are you—?"
"Please, you can't tell anyone about this," I begged, glancing over his shoulders to be sure that we were truly alone.
"About who it was that had all the Slytherins spend their morning in the hospital wing?" he crossed his arms as he lifted an eyebrow of disbelief at me.
"Look, she's — she's not a bad person—"
"Right."
"Listen, I know that Gryffindors and Slytherins don't always get along, but she really did not mean any harm—"
"She said she thought it was funny," James indicated disdainfully.
"Right, she did say that..." I muttered mostly to myself. I pursed my lips as I looked at the empty brick wall, trying to think of something to convince him not to spill.
"Maeve, she deserves to be ratted out," his hands sort of floated and lingered over my shoulders as he said that, as if he were about to grab them, but opted not to.
"If you don't say anything about it, I will owe you one," I interjected rapidly. "Big time."
"I don't need you to owe me anything. I have to be fair—"
"I'll tell everyone about your scar." Wow, Maeve. Blackmail? Really? Over this?
"You wouldn't," James gazed at me pensively, his lips twitching warily.
"I would, and I will," I assured him, although I knew that deep down, I would never.
"You really must be in love with her, then," he said with mocking scorn. "You're in love with all of those Gryffindors, aren't you?"
"I'm really not — technically, my only real friend is Hermione, but that is beside the point — I am blackmailing you, Lancaster." I cringed internally as I voiced his surname. Now, I wasn't exactly used to addressing him by his family name.
James scoffed a laugh of incredulity. He shook his head, his arms crossed.
"Fine." He leaned back, a playful smile on his face. "So, you wanna play that game?"