We returned from break feeling overstuffed and nearly brainless with muggle comforts such as Nintendo and television. February was the worst. No one could focus, not even Tracey Davis, who was the least silly person I had ever met. Not even Draco, who considered himself too pure-blooded for such nonsense as muggle television, which he laughed at when I suggested he ought to try it sometime.

“You’d probably like it. Loads of violence, people getting their heads chopped off or exploded, and there’s whole shows just about entitled rich people from powerful families getting fame and beautiful women thrown at them.” 

“I’ve heard it’s a sort of thing muggles use to avoid using their brains during the day. My father says it’s only a matter of time before they stop going outside entirely, and turn into fat lumps of flesh. I personally wouldn’t mind much.”

“You’re probably right. But that’s half the fun!”

I had a secret theory that Draco was secretly more curious about the muggle world than he let on, like a more asinine version of the Little Mermaid. Mikaela didn’t share this theory with me, choosing to firmly believe that Draco was purely an ass. I’d come to terms with the fact that there would be no avoiding him, since we shared every class together, and he really had no way of avoiding me, either. It was much easier to get along with him once I realized that we had absolutely nothing in common and he would never be nice to me. We were developing a somewhat pleasant, polite, openly hostile relationship based on mutual dislike and begrudging familiarity. I had finally begun to understand what Mcgonogall had meant when she said Slytherin would be my “family”; even the very worst Slytherins had come to feel like cousins of mine. And much like my true extended family, everything was very political and complicated, and everyone loathed everyone else while simultaneously giving them complete trust. Slytherins, we all agreed, were the most easily dislikable people in the school. Each and every one of us knew it. However, and we also agreed unanimously on this, Slytherins also deserved to win the House Cup more than any other school, as we truly were the greatest of the four in any competition.

“My family has the means to provide a higher caliber of entertainment. For instance, have you heard about the newest racing broom model? I got to ride one over the holiday, it’s called the Nimbus 2001. Much faster than that old thing Potter rides.” Draco bragged during groupwork in Charms.

“Well, look at your stuff. Isn’t it neat? Wouldn’t you think your collection’s complete? Wouldn’t you think you’re the girl-- the girl who has.... everything, Draco?” I asked innocently, practicing the Dancing Charm on a little gingerbread man, who was refusing to perform anything more impressive than a simple two-step. Draco sneered at me, not understanding my reference. 

“This is a stupid spell.” Draco said, unable to get his own gingerbread man to stop spinning slowly. “Locomotor Mortis.” He cast. The little cookie man’s legs turned stiff, and the poor guy fell over, only able to dance with his arms and torso. The bell rang, and class was dismissed. I took a bite of my charmed cookie. Draco watched his gingerbread man squirm for a moment, making sure that Crabbe and Goyle were watching so that they could be impressed by his prowess, and then pocketed it. “I’d like to try that spell out on a person sometime,” he drawled as we left class and began to make our way toward the moving staircase.

It was at that moment that the ever-unfortunate Neville Longbottom decided to walk past, with no one else around to protect him.

“Longbottom! Just the person I was hoping to find.” Draco shouted meanly. Neville spun glanced back in terror. “There’s a spell I’ve been meaning to test-- would you like to be my guinea pig? You look like one already.”

“Run, Neville! It’s a trap!” I yelled. But it was too late. In an instant, Draco’s curse had hit Neville, whose legs locked together, causing him to fall over quite comically. Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco all laughed. Poor Neville squirmed there like a caterpillar, struggling to stand up.

“Hey!” Parvati Patil shouted, coming from behind a corner with Lavender Brown and Mikaela. Draco and his groupies hustled off, apparently easily spooked by a gang of girls. The three of them helped Neville to his feet, and the poor guy hopped off in embarrassment towards Gryffindor Tower. Parvati and Lavender gave me the evil eye. I supposed they thought I was involved. I shrugged and opened my hands as a peaceable gesture, which they did not buy. “Come on, Lavender.” Parvati motioned, and the two of them headed up the staircase.

“Why don’t those guys like me?” I asked Mikaela.

“It’s not that they don’t like you, it’s just that they don’t know you. I guess they sort of...”

“Lump me in with the other Slytherins.” I suggested.

“Yeah.” She agreed.

“Well, that’s dumb, because when I have angst about a cookie, I don’t take it out on innocent bystanders. I take it out on the cookie itself.” I held up what was left of my gingerbread man. “That’s what makes me the better wizard.”

“Exactly.” Mikaela nodded. “And when I have angst, I let it fester until it turns me into a bitter old lady.”

“You’re always a bitter old lady.” I said as a compliment.

“Exactly.”

Gryffindor overtook Hufflepuff in the next Quidditch match so painfully fast that even the Slytherins started being nice to them for awhile, even though their failure meant that Gryffindor was one step closer to our Cup. Mikaela and I sat in Ravenclaw that day; she thought it would make sense for us both to cheer for Gryffindor, since my house wasn’t even playing, but I disagreed. Gryffindor was too close to winning for comfort. Once again, Potter the Special Boy was the mechanism for Gryffindor’s lucky victory.

“I don’t understand what makes him so special! He’s not any better than anyone else.” I found myself complaining.

“Except he is.” Mikaela answered in irritation. And, partly, in genuine awe of Harry Potter.

March came and went, as did both of our birthdays, which we celebrated by giving eachother rather stupid little homemade presents. Neither of us had access to anything really exciting, so Mikaela charmed me a batch of chocolate truffles and gave me a few moving pictures she had taken of us, which I really loved, and I wrote her a sad little story which was entirely self-indulgent and not very funny at all, but which made her laugh anyways. I felt a little bad because my present wasn’t magical, but I thought I made up for it by spending a full night awake in the Slytherin common room writing it for her.

As good as our friendship seemed to be, I found myself a little worried, every now and again. As I was becoming more and more accustomed to the Slytherins, Mikaela seemed to be getting closer and closer to her fellow Gryffindors, and every few mornings I found myself sitting at breakfast alone or with Tracey Davis, and neither Mikaela or I would get up to glumly greet the other as we had so often done. In fact, there seemed far fewer adventures to be had this semester than the previous one. I thought perhaps it was because our Marauder’s Map had been repossessed, or perhaps it was because the curriculum had been becoming harder. Or, perhaps, I sometimes worried, it was because she liked Harry, Ron, and Hermione more than me. 

In fact, as spring came closer and closer, we hung out less and less. There was always Potions class, and that was nice. April soon shook the snow off the tired stone castle, and the earth greedily drank up the meltwater. In Transfiguration, we focused on the upcoming finals. In Charms, we focused on our upcoming projects. In Potions, we studied for the exam Snape promised most of us would fail. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Quirrell had us memorizing facts like a nervous tick. It would have been nice to have at least one teacher who didn’t expect us to devote all our attention and free time to their class. In desperation, we turned to Professor Sprout. Even in the head of Hufflepuff’s class, we were given no reprieve.

“Springtime is here, and that means budding season, first-years!” Sprout sang cheerfully. “All the work we’ve done over the winter is about to come to a finish! As a part of your final exam, I’ll have you record the progress of seven of the magical plants we’ve grown as they bud and blossom into full-grown specimens!” The sun shone through the greenhouse windows like it hadn’t done all winter, and the golden glow around everything was disconcerting. “For this project, you’ll need to get into groups of four--”

The moment she said this, everyone in the room began to rapidly choose their teams through eye contact and facial movements. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all buddied up, and I nodded at Tracey Davis, who ticked her head towards Daphne Greengrass to show that she’d be joining us. Millicent Bullstrode and Pansy Parkinson had chosen one another, of course, but no one seemed to want to group with either of them. The Ravenclaws chose amongst themselves, not wanting to risk collaboration with anyone ‘less academic’ than they on such an important project.

“--which you may start to form once I hand out the instructions.”

When the instructions had been handed, Tracey, Daphne, and I all stood together. I rather liked Daphne, who had a confident air about her, but who wasn’t as obnoxious as Pansy or Draco. Pansy and Millicent looked about the room, realizing that they were the only two not belonging to a group yet. Pansy reluctantly went to join Draco’s group, leaving her friend to work with us. Millicent reluctantly waded through the overgrown plant life in Greenhouse One to stand with the three of us. I smiled at her politely.

Millicent was not a very pretty girl, being rather large and unfriendly-looking, particularly next to the slight, fey Pansy. I got the impression that she had low self esteem, and that running with Pansy made Millicent feel more powerful. She could be very cruel at times, but I felt sorry for her.

Professor Sprout gave each of us the names of the plants we would need to collect and observe, and the locations of the garden plots around the school where we would find them.

“English Chomping Cabbage prefers a bit less light, so that’ll be in Garden Eight down by the lake.” Daphne read. We strode through the brisk, crisp spring air across the school grounds, which looked very lovely with the little bits of green that had begun to emerge all over. Songbirds, which were rare throughout the winter, had returned in multitude, and made proclamations of their reign in sweet chirps in the trees and rafters of the school.

When we arrived at the lake, I was pleasantly surprised to find Mikaela, and less pleasantly surprised to encounter the rest of Gryffindor.

“What are you all doing down here?” I asked. Mikaela stepped away from Lavender and Parvati, waving to them. 

“Quirrell let us have class outside today. And then he left. So, actually, I have no idea.”

“Such a strange little man,” I replied. “We’re collecting cabbages for Sprout.”

“Well, have fun with that.”

“We are. There is much fun happening.”

Our attention was called away by the more interesting sight of a second-year boy standing shirtless at the end of the old dock, surrounded by a few others.

“You guys are all sissies!” He shouted to them. They laughed.

“Do it!” They shouted back at him daringly.

“I will-- I swear I will!” He answered. He seemed just about ready to jump into the freezing cold water.

“Who’s that jackass?” I asked, unimpressed.

“That’s Cormac McLaggen. He’s in Gryffindor. Unfortunately.” Mikaela replied.

There was an obnoxious splash, and when Cormac resurfaced he let out a yell of shock at the cold, as if he hadn’t anticipated it. He clambered back onto shore as fast as he could, shrieking and laughing.

“Aw, he’s so cute.” Lavender giggled, coming up behind Mikaela. I pffted and rolled my eyes. “Well, I don’t suppose you would be able to take a jump like that, Madeline.” She argued.

“I could, and I wouldn’t scream about it.” I said bluntly. Mikaela laughed, a little nervously.

“I could, but I’m not going to, because that was simply the most ogre-like display of sheer idiocy I have ever seen.” Daphne added, joining the conversation.

“Well, Greengrass, obviously we’re not all classy and prissy like you, so we might think differently.” Lavender said, becoming more agitated.

“What you call prissy, some call hygenic. Perhaps if you tried it out, you’d be able to aim a little higher than that thuggish thing,” Daphne retorted, pointing over at McLaggen. “Perhaps a jump in the lake is just the thing you need.”

“Go away, Daphne!” Parvati cut in. Lavender looked as if she were about to cry, but she held in tears like anger. “Just because you think you’re better than us doesn’t mean you get to go around acting like a harpy hag!”

“Everyone, calm down! Chill out.” I interrupted. “Just chill.”

“No one’s a harpy hag.” Mikaela added.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Daphne said, smirking.

Cormac McLaggen chose that particular moment to swagger on up to us like a complete douchebag, shirtless, and say,

“Hello, ladies.”

He couldn’t have been more poorly timed.

Daphne raised her voice. “Everyone, who here thinks Cormac isn’t the hottest thing since self-stirring cauldrons?” All four Slytherins raised their hands. Myself included. “Alright, and who wishes he would sweep them off their feet and carry them away to his castle on his fat horse?” Parvati and Lavender both seethed in anger. Mikaela had no clue what to do at this point; all she could do was stand and struggle. “No one? Well, then, it seems to be unanimous, then. Cormac, apparently girls find you fairly unattractive.”

Millicent giggled loudly.

For someone with such an obviously overlarge ego, Cormac reacted very strongly to the insult. His smile instantly disappeared. 

“Yeah? Well, why should I care? You’re a whiny princess and chuckles over there looks like a mountain troll, so I guess it doesn’t matter.” Cormac’s friends, who I hadn’t noticed before, laughed hard at this, slapping their fearless leader on the back. Millicent’s wide forehead briefly creased upward in hurt, then down in anger.

“Take that back!” she cried, her voice tragically lower than his. Cormac’s Gryffindors only laughed harder. Millicent ran at them with her large hands clenched into threatening fists, and leapt on Cormac, tackling him to the ground. “Take that back, you stupid, dirty, half-breed blood-traitor scum!”

“Get off him!” Lavender cried, and tried to wrestle the formidable Millicent away from McLaggen. Parvati attempted to pull her away, and Cormac’s friends got involved as well. The combined effort of the boys was enough to subdue Millicent, who continued to shout at Cormac.

“Mountain troll!” Cormac roared in disgust, wiping the mud and grass from his robes. I glanced at Millicent, who I knew was breaking inside, and at Cormac, and at Mikaela. I pulled out my wand.

“Take it back, McLaggen.” I said, pointing it at him dangerously. He and his friends laughed.

“What are you going to do with that?” They scoffed. “Flipendo us?” I saw Tracey step up from behind me. She also had her wand out, an intricate, ebony beauty made up of strands which seemed to twist. And on my other side, Daphne pulled out her wand, which was bone-white and studded with glistening stones.

“I know a curse to make your skin fall off,” Tracey said emotionlessly.

“Well, there you have it.” I nodded at Cormac. 

“And beauty is really only skin-deep, if I’m not mistaken.” Daphne added, smiling. “So you’ll rethink what you have to say about Millicent.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Lavender said, pointing her own wand.

“Care to go to the hospital wing today covered in boils, Brown?” Daphne cooed. Parvati raised her wand, as did, to my surprise and horror, Mikaela.

“No one’s cursing anyone.” She said firmly. “This is a stupid argument, and you’re all going to leave it be.”

Had we just taken up arms against eachother? Like, actually? I couldn’t leave it be; I had to get justice for Millicent. Mikaela didn’t understand. Millicent was much more fragile than she appeared, and no one deserved to be tormented the way she was, every day. I couldn’t leave it be. 

How had this happened? First second, we’re hanging out slightly less frequently than usual, and then next, we’re on opposite sides of a house gangfight. 

Before the sparks could literally start to fly, I heard a splendidly familiar voice.

“Oy! First-years, second-years! Break it up!” Gemma Farley strode down the hill, followed by the other Slytherin prefects. She looked absolutely furious. “What’s on earth is this about?”

“McLaggen called Millicent a name, and he refuses to take it back.” Daphne explained angrily.

“McLaggen, take back the name-calling.” Gemma commanded.

“Sorry. I take it back.” McLaggen mumbled. “But she’s the one who made fun of me, first!” He pointed at Daphne.

“Daphne, say you’re sorry.”

“Only if he says he’s an idiot.” Daphne crossed her arms.

“You have to apologize to idiots all the time in life, you ought to get used to it. Trust me.”

“Fine. Sorry, Cormac.” Daphne said begrudgingly. 

“Alright. That’ll be thirty-five points from Gryffindor, twenty from Slytherin. That’s five each. Don’t give me that look, it’s quite fair. Knowing math comes in handy once and awhile. You, you, you and you,” she said, pointing at Cormac and his friends, “back into the school. Now. The three of you” she motioned toward Mikaela, Parvati, and Lavender, “are going to Professor McGonogall’s office immediately, she’ll come up with a punishment. You two” she pointed at Daphne and Tracey “will talk to Professor Snape. You” she pointed at Millicent “can go back to the common room. I’m not going to punish you for defending yourself.” 

I looked around nervously.

“What about me?” I asked finally.

“Oh, I know you weren’t instigating anything. You, I’m not worried about.” Gemma said.

“Oh.” I replied. “But I was getting ready to jinx Cormac, with Daphne and Tracey.”

“Listen, I know for a fact that you weren’t doing anything wrong, because I know for a fact that you won’t do anything wrong. Just-- Nevermind me. I’ve got a splitting headache.” Gemma rubbed her temples. The boys had already started up the hill, but the girls were still standing around. “Go,” Gemma hissed, and they went. There was something wrong with my stomach, like a swarm of ants had been let loose inside me.