The Pureblood Princess | Fred Weasley

A Fake Friend

Slytherin. The house of evil masterminds, destined to receive the Dark Mark. Slytherin. The obvious villain in every circumstance. Slytherin. Always suspected, pitted and undermined to the other houses. 

At just eleven, the Sorting Hat determines our worth. Whether we're brave, smart, kind... or whether we're evil. But my time at Hogwarts, has been nothing if not eventful. I had a particular eye for the hidden secrets of the ancient School.

Those ones that no one liked to admit. That not all Hufflepuffs are weak. Not all Ravenclaws are smart. Not all Gryffindor are brave.

And not all Slytherins are evil. 

I am Mallory Salem Rowle. I am fifteen years old. I am a Pureblood Witch, attending my 5th year in Hogwarts.

And I was unfortunate enough to be placed in Slytherin. As much as this pleased my Noble pureblood family, I was forced into a life of being constantly undermined, being constantly referred to as 'the enemy'.

Slytherin. The house for the cunning and sly.

I hated that stereotype.

I was Slytherin. I was ambitious, hard-working. A leader. But they never believed it.

I walked down the halls, knowing of the dark that lies beneath. With Voldemort's return inevitable, everyone at Hogwarts was extremely tense. Harry, Hermione and Ron had taken it upon themselves to create their own Defence Against the Dark Arts group, they're calling it Dumbledore's Army.

Some legacy.

Professor Umbridge had refused to teach us any D.A.D.A spells, which was completely ridiculous. With his return drawing closer, I refused to believe that a Professor was turning a blind eye.

Following her rules and sticking to curriculum. She was a fool.

"Wonder why she's even in this class, she'd probably never use it." A boy behind me whispered to a friend. I chose to ignore them, as the chuckled quietly behind me.

"Shh, Umbridge might hear ya'," the other student giggled.

"Oi, mudblood's!" A familiar voice said. "I suggest you shut it, before I sew your mouths together."

I turned to where the voice had come from. Behind me to my left, Draco sat next to Blaise. He raised his eyebrows and smirked at me.

I smiled, half-heartedly. It was troublesome knowing that people were whispering about me in every corridor of school. If anything, it was overwhelming rather than upsetting. I had never cared what people thought about me, but since Cedric died, it troubles me. Despite being a Hufflepuff, Cedric was never afraid of me, he saw me. He saw the good parts.

Cedric Diggory was the Hufflepuff who proved that these age-old stereotypes are nothing but that. They weren't based on fact, rather fiction, making it more of a novel.

This wasn't a novel. It was our lives. Yet, we suffered for years. Everyone one of us. Believing that our future was based on a millennium old hat, that thinks he can read us. Cedric proved that Hufflepuffs could be brave and strong. If he could do it, anyone could.

"Where is your head, Rowle?" An elegantly blunt voice asked me. I was startled. I looked up, sharply.

"Pansy?!" I stuttered. The girl stood at the edge of my desk, looking down on me. Just her demeanour exerted power onto everyone she encountered. Her dark brown hair sat on her shoulder. With her hazel eyes, and bewitched smile, Slytherin suited her.

She was mean. I never liked to be her friend, but friends are hard to find as a Slytherin. Her tongue was just as sharp as her temper, meaning if anyone ever came for me, she'd tear them up.