As October rolled in, so did the colder and harsher weather. The leaves of the trees outside began to curl into themselves and then fall onto the ground, dilapidated. Even The Whomping Willow was starting to have its fair share of crimson red, pumpkin orange, and golden yellow leaves. Autumn was also fog season. It was starting to be quite hazy outdoors during Professor Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures classes.
After that adrenaline-rushing first class with the hippogriffs, one which had fortunately injured Draco Malfoy, professor Hagrid seemed to have been scared of teaching us anything remotely dangerous anymore. For the past few weeks, we were looking after the dullest creatures that possibly existed: flobberworms. We spent most of class stuffing pieces of lettuce or cabbage down their slimy throats.
A small trip to the library was enough to help me discover the utilities of those flobberworms. Their mucus could be collected to thicken potions, and if freshly conserved, they could be used as a potion ingredient. They were such small and easy-to-conserve creatures that I had nicked a few of them inside a vial while no one was looking.
"Ew! What is that?" Moaning Myrtle, the teenage ghost who haunted the Hogwarts girls' bathroom on the second floor since 1943 (according to her), shrieked at the sight of the little worms. They were barely moving inside their new home: a glass container with a piece of cabbage and a few pebbles for decoration.
"They're flobberworms. Very harmless. Might keep you company, you know," I responded airily. Myrtle gave me a horrified look.
"I'll have you know that I am not fond of insects or of anything that wobbles," she said, stiffly crossing her arms as she tentatively approached me and my worm friends.
"Well, they won't be going anywhere. They're trapped in there," I gestured at the container.
"Why must you bring worms in here and not boys?"
I rolled my eyes dramatically at that. "Why are you so obsessed with boys? They're not that great, you know." As I said this, I remembered how un-great girls could be too — how un-great I was to James.
I hadn't spoken to James since that day I tried to blackmail him. It seemed like it was still a mystery to all the Slytherins why they were suddenly very sick at breakfast that Saturday morning. I supposed James hadn't told anyone, but I wasn't certain that this meant my blackmail had worked or not.
"Well, I never had the chance to experience boys before," Myrtle mumbled miserably. "You living girls are so ungrateful — at least you have the chance to hold a boy's hand or... or have your first kiss."
"Well," I chuckled softly as I mindlessly looked down at my hands. "I still haven't done any of that."
"You haven't?" Myrtle inquired with surprise. "Then what have you been doing?"
"Erm... Potions?"
"What about... James?"
"How do you know James?" I questioned, trying to recall a time when James had visited this washroom before, but that time did not exist. "Did you meet him? Did he come here before without my knowledge—?"
"No, no, no! I mean, I recall just last week a boy came in here to buy a potion from you, and you two mentioned a certain James," she giggled, seemingly reminiscing the day when a boy finally came into her bathroom.
"Right, Wyatt did come in here before...."
"Oh, you have so many boys in your life!" Myrtle squealed excitedly. I raised a dubious eyebrow at her.
"That's just two — and they're not in my life, Myrtle. They just exist, and I happen to know who they are."
"Oh, pish posh, I know something interesting will flourish with at least one of them," Myrtle said coyly.
"I doubt it. I kind of... I mean... because..."
Myrtle cocked her head to the side as I struggled to construct a coherent sentence. I sighed and gave up, lying on my back and extending my arms, exhausted with myself.
"Well, spit it out!" my pale ghost friend said impatiently.
I gazed over at her, then back at the ceiling, still lying on my back.
"I dunno, it's probably nothing," I huffed, gently rubbing my tired eyes with the palm of my hand.
Myrtle glided over me and lay her body down, floating right above my body. She stared down at my face.
"Tell me," she smiled earnestly. "I'm much more interested in hearing stories about boys than about — well, whatever it is you usually rant about."
"Wow, thanks " I rolled my eyes at her. She drew her body next to mine and lay down beside me on the floor, looking up at the blank ceiling with me.
There were many cracks in the ceiling. Black and dark green lines congregated across the whiteness above. It was moments like this one where I'd remember just how bloody old the Hogwarts castle was—
"Well, aren't you going to tell me that boy story?" Myrtle demanded. I sighed briefly.
"Sure, but it's not exactly a boy story. It's just an I-think-I-did-something-stupid story."
"But there are boys involved—?"
"I swear to Salazar, Myrtle, if you mention boys one more time, I'll make sure that Peeves visits you in here every day—"
"Fine. Just tell it!"
I went on and told her the story about me trying to blackmail James (I didn't tell her about the scar, of course) and his very odd response to it ("So, you wanna play that game?" he had said).
"Does this mean he's going to blackmail me back? How does blackmail even work? I've never done this before, Myrtle. I feel so foolish."
My pale ghost friend cocked her said to the side. She was floating in front of me now, her arms crossed. I was sitting up on the floor, a look of desperation on my face.
"Well, I've always been subject to blackmail, so how should I know?!" she wailed unpleasantly. "Argh, that Olive Hornby! It was quite pleasant haunting her when she was still alive—"
"Myrtle, you're not helping," I huffed, shaking my head.
"When's the next time you're bringing a boy over? It gets lonely in here, you know," Myrtle moaned impatiently.
"Please, what did I say earlier about mentioning boys? Besides, isn't my presence enough to entertain you?" I raised an eyebrow at her, cocking my head to the side. She pursed her lips with dissatisfaction. "Wow, really? I thought we were friends."
Myrtle opened her mouth, but no words escaped her lips. She hesitated.
"What?" I asked, wondering if I said something wrong.
"I'm sorry, I thought you said... friends," Myrtle enunciated slowly.
"Yeah...?"
"You truly see me as... a... friend?" her brow furrowed, and her eyes widened in disbelief.
"What? Am I not allowed? I'm sorry, I thought—"
"No one has ever told me they were my friend before!" she suddenly began to cry, and I sat motionless on the floor, not knowing what I was supposed to say now.
"Er... Myrtle?"
"Everyone calls me Moaning Myrtle, but you call me Myrtle! Just Myrtle!" she sobbed. I just stared at her with my mouth gaped open. I wasn't entirely sure what was happening right now.
"Er... Do you prefer if I called you Moaning Myrtle from now on?" I asked tentatively.
"No!" Myrtle wailed. Before I could ask, "why?" my ghost friend flew into a bathroom stall and flushed herself down the toilet.
I sat motionless on the floor, pondering over what had just happened. That had escalated quickly.
Was Myrtle sad that I called her my friend? Or was it because I failed to add "Moaning" before her name? Were those tears of joy? If I were happy, I probably wouldn't be flushing myself down a toilet — but this was Moaning Myrtle. She was not typically decipherable.
I hadn't eaten with the Slytherin Four since my pathetic attempt at blackmail against James had kind of flopped. None of the Slytherins showed any signs of hostility towards Ivy Law, so I assumed James hadn't said anything. However, I still considered my blackmail a flop because of my sheer lack of willingness to follow through with it if James decided to snitch. I had no idea what was going on in his head, but I simply decided to ignore him and hoped he'd forget all about that Ivy girl and my stupid blackmail.
I finally started eating with people my age, which included both the Slytherins and the Gryffindors. As I traipsed into the Great Hall on Thursday morning, I noticed the Slytherin Four eating quite comfortably well together at the Slytherin table. Daphne and friends were seated not too far away from the S4. Since avoiding James had become my favourite sport, I decided to practice it this morning.
At the Gryffindor table, I expected to find the golden trio of Hermione, Ron, and Harry, or at the very least Fred and George, but I couldn't see anyone I recognized except for little Ginny Weasley. I glanced back at the Slytherin table. My third-year Slytherin friends ate with Malfoy and his goons while the S4 sat nearby. Back at the Gryffindor table, there was nobody that I knew very well, and the Gryffindor students stared at me as if they were expecting me to set fire to the table any minute now.
"Ginny?" I asked tentatively.
The ginger-haired girl looked back at me.
"Maeve?" she looked at me with her chocolate brown eyes. I nodded with a quick smile. "Hermione left for class early. And Fred and George went off with Ivy somewhere."
"Ah, I see..."
"Aren't you that Slytherin girl from the train?" a boy in front of us interrupted. It was Dean Thomas. I had encountered him and his friend Seamus Finnigan in the Hogwarts Express right before the start of term.
"Uh, yeah."
"Why would you be looking for Hermione? Or Fred and George, for that matter? What'd you want with them?" he asked quickly, scrutinizing me with his sandy-haired friend, Seamus, next to him.
"Dean, haven't you noticed they were friends?" Ginny questioned with a small giggle.
"Friends?" Seamus repeated in disbelief. Here we go again. Another Gryffindor who cannot fathom that friendships between Gryffindors and Slytherins can exist.
"Yeah, they're my friends," I affirmed proudly.
"She's eaten with us at this table before. Have not noticed before?" Ginny queried, looking slightly amused.
"I — Well, I don't know," Seamus glanced between Ginny and me as if he couldn't decipher the truth.
"It's just... hard to believe, is all," Dean added with his arms crossed.
"Well, believe it. I'm not an ass like Malfoy. I don't believe muggles are below me, and I don't disrespect muggleborns," I insisted, the heat of my cheeks rising. I once again felt like I had to justify myself as Slytherin.
"Alright," Dean raised his hands in the air in surrender.
I didn't see the point of eating here anymore. Even if the Gryffindor boys had "approved" of my friendship with his fellow Gryffindors (not that their opinions mattered), I knew it wouldn't do me any good if I ate here with them.
"Right, well, I'm off," I told Ginny. She nodded and waved at me as I parted from her.
I dreaded my arrival at the Slytherin table. I did not want to confront Malfoy or the S4. I merely wanted a peaceful and diplomatic breakfast before I started my day.
"You okay, Maeve?" a girl asked.
It was Adrianne Pucey. She was seated at the first end of the table with Miles and my brother, Aiden. Adri gazed up at me with her piercing blue eyes. Her black hair was styled into two french braids as always. Miles' hair was a messy dirty blonde, as per usual, and his bright hazel eyes also peered over at me curiously.
"You look tired," Aiden added. My brother's curly black hair was growing longer these days, and his curly bangs rested right above his hazelnut-coloured eyes.
"I am tired," I huffed as I sat next to Miles in front of Aiden and Adri.
"Brewing potions in your spare time again, eh?" Miles teased. I chuckled awkwardly.
"Heh, yeah, totally," I said as a pathetic attempt at sarcasm. Shaking my head in disbelief at myself, I poured some food on my plate so that I could have something to eat.
"How are you tired when you're just a third-year?" Aiden shook his head in disbelief. "We have OWLs to study for, and it's Hell!"
"Just people, I guess. People stress me out," I shrugged.
"That is so true," Miles nodded. "I can relate to that."
"The bloody Hell do you mean? Is anyone messing with you?" Adri inquired heatedly. "If anyone hurts you, I can fix them for you. You know that, right?"
"So noble of you," Miles lowered his head to a short thankful bow in Adri's direction.
"I was talking to Maeve," Adri retorted, a bite of annoyance in her voice.
"Ah," Miles cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"I'm fine," I insisted. "I mean, to be honest, I'm the people who stress me out. I stress myself out."
Something made me simultaneously jump and yelp at that moment. Someone's fingers tickled my waist, and I almost accidentally slammed my face into my plate in sheer surprise.
"Merlin, Maeve, don't get another nosebleed," she said, giggling.
This girl was possibly my only Slytherin friend (that I knew of) who would openly agree that muggleborns and muggles weren't all that bad. Although she could have a temper at times, if you got to know her, you would realize that deep down she had a heart of gold.
"Tracey," I said, relieved that it was just her.
Tracey Davis' kinky, ebony black hair was pushed back by her classic emerald green hairband, matching beautifully with her deep onyx skin. She smiled brightly at me, her deep brown eyes gleaming under the candlelight.
"How come you're avoiding us again?" she raised an eyebrow at me, her hands on her hips as she gazed down at me.
"I'm not. I just wanted to — to spend some, you know, quality time with my brother because, you know, I don't always see him — I see you guys in class everyday, you know?"
"Yeah, I know," Tracey scoffed a laugh of disbelief. "You don't have to get your knickers in a twist explaining your life, Maeve. That was just my way of inviting you to sit with us again."
I glanced over at the end of the table where Malfoy was eating and chattering with my other Slytherin friends. I momentarily wondered if I was being childish again.
"No, don't tell me you're still holding grudges against that blondie kid," Tracey shook her head. "You don't even have to talk to him. I sure don't. Just come and hang out with Daphne and Blaise, and you know, the whole gang except Malfoy and his croons."
"What the bloody Hell is going on between you and Malfoy again?" Aiden questioned, baffled.
"Nothing. That's the whole point. Nothing is going on," I insisted earnestly.
"Then, come on," Tracey began to pull my arm.
"Hey, I'm already eating here—"
She pulled me off my seat and dragged me off to the other end of the table. Adri waved solemnly at me as I was being pulled away. Miles wasn't paying much attention to anything but the food on his plate, and Aiden dismissed the fact that his little sister was essentially being kidnapped right in front of him.
I struggled against Tracey's pull at first but gave up mid-way through. I hid my face behind Tracey's head as we passed by the Slytherin Four, but a part of me knew that it was futile — my big hair, again, I presumed, would reveal my location.
"Hey, you finally got her to eat with us," Daphne said in a congratulatory tone to Tracey.
"Yeah, forcefully," I grumbled.
"She doesn't even want to be here," Malfoy interjected. He was seated with his arms crossed, Crabbe on his left and Goyle on his right. All three of them were staring at me as if I were the most putrid thing ever.
"Anyway," Tracey disregarded Malfoy's comment and guided me to the seat furthest away from him, in front of Daphne and Blaise. "So, Maeve... Did you finish that Arithmancy homework? You were working with that Gryffindor girl, Granger, right?"
"Working with the Mudblood," Malfoy scoffed, still listening to our conversation, a few seats away.
"Erm, yeah, we finished it this weekend," I ignored Malfoy's sneers and tried to have a normal conversation with the Slytherins who really mattered.
"Really? How? Millicent has been ignoring me since the day we got it assigned, and I only managed to complete half of it," Tracey shook her head in disbelief. "I miss the days we would work together, you know."
"You could team up with Hermione and me," I proposed. "I mean, teams of three are allowed, right? Malfoy's with Crabbe and Goyle, so..."
"What the bloody Hell do you want, Blackwood?" Malfoy barked, glaring at me from a few seats away. I glanced in his direction but gave him no satisfaction of an answer.
"Would that be okay with Granger, too, you reckon?" Tracey asked hesitantly.
"I'm sure she'll understand. Hermione's a nice girl," I assured her.
"Her name is Mudblood. Say it right," Malfoy spewed his nasty words in my direction again. His incessant attempts to get involved in my conversation with Tracey were really getting on my nerves.
Tracey probably noticed the flicker of rage slowly consuming my eyes because she quickly resumed, "I'll show you what I wrote down later. Maybe we have different answers. We could compare."
"Yeah, for sure," I shook away the fact that Malfoy was still staring right at me, surely waiting for the perfect occasion to butt in again.
"Hermione Granger? Isn't she friends with Potter and Weasley?" Daphne chimed in. "Why are you friends with Gryffindors now?"
"Because she's pathetic enough to crave attention from some muggle-loving freaks," Malfoy sneered, emitting chuckles from his two goons, and he smiled in satisfaction when I finally wiped my head in his direction.
My fists were clenched as I resisted the urge to pin him down again and, perhaps this time, finally strike a punch on his slimy face. It took all my willpower to avert my gaze back at Tracey and Daphne.
"Because of that slimy git, right there," I lowered my voice so that Malfoy wouldn't hear.
"Oh, Malfoy? Just ignore him. He's just trying to provoke you," Daphne hissed back at me.
"He just misses you and tries to get your attention," Tracey added in a whisper with a small wink.
"That's exactly the problem," I grumbled miserably.
"I still don't understand what you have against Malfoy," Blaise Zabini, who had been particularly quiet thus far, interjected, probably loud enough for Malfoy to hear.
"Doesn't matter," I tried to dismiss it. As expected, I regretted having let Tracey pull me here. Malfoy was inevitable when it came to eating with my actual Slytherin friends.
"You know, I've been wondering the same thing," Malfoy cut in. I rolled my eyes dramatically in his direction. "The other day, she even tried to kill me."
"I never said I wanted to be your enemy, Malfoy," I finally shouted. His nostrils flared as he scrutinized my face. I sighed, shaking my head before going on, "I'm just not interested in being friends with you, is all. I'm the one who doesn't understand you, Malfoy. Why do you have to act so childish all the time? Can't we act civilized for once? It's not that hard — just pretend I'm someone you've never met and have no interest in meeting, alright? Please?"
That little speech of mine was loud enough to catch the attention of other Slytherins, unfortunately, including the S4, whom I noticed were now looking in Malfoy and I's direction. Elijah raised a curious eyebrow at us while Isaiah held a vague expression of sympathy. Wyatt looked bored at the whole situation, and James stared blankly at me.
"Merlin..." I heard Pansy Parkinson mumble under her breath. She had just arrived at the table and sat next to Tracey. "What the bloody Hell happened when I was gone?"
"Blackfoy beef, again," Blaise shrugged, casually munching on his food as if he were absolutely unbothered by it all — which he no doubt was.
Shaking my head profusely, I thrust my bag over my shoulder and stood up from the Slytherin table. Without bothering to glance at Malfoy, not even caring what reaction I may have elicited from him, I stomped away and down the table, reaching the entrance hall.
The next few days were swell. I had been ignoring all of my Slytherin friends and acquaintances, but I also hadn't spent that much time with the Gryffindors either. Instead, I have found myself in the company of Amirah Flowers much more often than before. We spent a lot of time in the library. She knew the place better than anyone else I had ever met.
Occasionally, we would have Isaiah Ainsley, the red-haired metamorphmagus, sit with us. I was a little apprehensive the first few days that I saw him, but as time passed, I realized that he was not interested in talking about James or anyone else from his S4 gang. However, I wasn't always invested in the conversation when he was here because he and Amirah naturally tended to go off together.
I skipped quidditch practice on Saturday morning, knowing Malfoy would be there with his "broken" arm. I didn't understand what he thought he was getting out of faking that injury. Sure, he was genuinely hurt at first, but a month had passed, and now, everybody knew that he was pretending at this point. I supposed some girls still clung to his arm in awe at his dumb weak body, but I was nearly certain that that was all show. There was no way these girls were not getting paid to give him attention. Just last week, his arm seemed to be working perfectly fine when I tried to "kill" him in the Great Hall.
Shaking those thoughts away, I installed myself in one of those empty study rooms in the Slytherin commons. Only a few of the rooms were taken, as always. Being in the Hogwarts underground, all windows in the Slytherin dungeons allowed us to peer into the darkness of the black lake. There wasn't always anything special happening whenever I would take a gander out the windows, except for the giant squid, who occasionally liked to wander around.
Today, however, when I mindlessly glanced at the darkness of the windows, I noticed something peculiar. It was a glowing blue light. It floated about in the lake, bouncing around. It wasn't trying to interact with the fishes around it, who all scattered at the sudden sight of this luminous orb-like form. In fact, it seemed to try to interact with me. The blue light approached my study room window and tried to tap against the glass.
I was previously working on some Charms homework, but now I was enthralled by this glow in the darkness of the lake. I wasn't entirely sure if the little light was harmless or not, but I couldn't help myself from standing up from my seat to approach it at the window.
Upon close inspection, it looked like the blue light was, in fact, a tiny glowing blue fish. It was luminous beyond my understanding of a fish, and I had never encountered anything like it. It seemed to be trying to penetrate the glass, but I wasn't sure what it wanted or why it thought it was even possible. I was about to tap my finger against the glass to see how the little fish would react, but the sound of a voice interrupted the calm air of the room. The little fish swiftly scurried away from sight as the person entered the room.
"Blackwood," he said calmly. I was far from calm, however. I was hoping to ignore James until the end of term when he'd possibly forget about me and move on with his life.
I struggled to release even a single syllable from my throat. My mouth hung open dumbly as I stared at James closing the study room's door behind him.
"Look, I don't care about what you said," he stated, approaching me cautiously. His dark hair was hiding one of his eyes as it always did.
"What?"
"I obviously didn't tell anybody about what that Gryffindor girl did, but that is not because of your threats," he clarified rather formally. I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to comprehend what the heck he was on about.
"So why then? Why didn't you tell the other Slytherins about her?" I eyed him suspiciously. James shook his head as he seemingly mulled over how to answer my question. "Just tell me."
James reached into his pockets and pulled out a black pouch. He extended his arm with the pouch out to me. I gave him a confused look, and he grabbed my hand, extending my palm. After placing the pouch in my hand, he said, "This is for the dittany bottles... Not as much as the last time, but that's because all you did was ask a bloody elf to do it for you. So now, I reckon you owe me for not spilling the truth about that incident on Saturday morning."
I accidentally let out a skittish laugh as my eyes widened.
"I say we forget about everything and move on with our unimportant lives," I proposed in the most nonchalant way I could express through these panicky feelings in my chest. It suddenly occurred to me that I probably did not want to owe Jamieson Lancaster anything. "Keep the coins — that's how I'll owe you. The dittany bottles are all free of charge. We're even now. We can finally move on. The end."
"Alright," James retrieved the pouch of galleons from my extended hand and slipped it back into his pocket. "But I'm warning you right now, Blackwood... if you tell anyone about that scar above my eye, I will kill you. I will literally end your life in the most painful way conceivable."
I had never been spoken to like this by James before. The way he said this so offhandedly yet with such intense sincerity sent some chills down my back. I felt my throat tighten dryly as I nodded earnestly at him.
"Yeah, I understand that," I chuckled nervously, suddenly feeling incredibly self-aware about my empty hand that was still awkwardly extended out to him. Pulling my hand back towards myself, I added, "Er, well, I'm very late to Quidditch practice now, so I'll see you around... S-Sir."
Shaking all thoughts away as much as I could, I haphazardly grabbed my books off the table and my bag that was hanging on the chair, and with one last sheepish glance at James, I scurried out of the Slytherin study room.