The Cursed Ones

Chapter Four: A Chain of Revenge

Five minutes later, I'm piling food, but mostly just grapes, onto my lunch plate. Pansy is talking about some argument she got into with a sixth year when her voice abruptly cuts short. I look up at her. She's looking at something behind my shoulder. Curiously, I try to follow her gaze.

Immediately my jaw falls slack. The Gryffindor boy from yesterday (Darwin, apparently) just barely manages to sit down on the bench at his house table. His eyes are bulging, and they're flitting about, taking everything in.

"Pansy," I hiss, not moving my lips for fear of someone reading them, "That's really a lot."

"I told you," she reminds me. I hear her continuing to eat as if she hasn't noticed the pitiful scene going on at the table over.

Fred and George stop mid argument over Merlin knows what to goggle at Darwin. It dawns on them, and without hesitation, they look over to me with perfectly identical lopsided grins. I widen my eyes and desperately shake my head. "No, no, it wasn't me," I mouth. They seem to believe me, but just barely. I'm a bit appalled at them. They very well know that I would own up to a prank immediately, at least to them. We really do have a friendly competition going on between us. And besides, even I wouldn't drug another kid and call it a prank. Pansy, on the other hand, is an entirely different breed, especially when her protective side is provoked.

Darwin isn't accompanied by his friend group, and it's clear he's the only one to even manage to make it to lunch. Perhaps the others are in the hospital wing. I'm unable to force myself to care very much, as I discover. I myself sport a strong protective side myself.

I return to my lunch, deciding not to act suspiciously by watching Darwin's steady unraveling. I know more than a few will believe it was I who slipped the drugs. I don't need to provide any more ammunition for people to fire at me.

By the time Draco, Pansy and I are finished with our meals, a young Hufflepuff has noticed the commotion coming from Darwin and a few of the other Gryffindors, who are trying to keep Darwin's face from falling into his mashed potatoes, and has alerted a number of professors of his condition. I see Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, and (oh, damn it) Albus Dumbledore flock around the unfortunate boy. I and my friends walk from the dining hall chattering and pretending not to have noticed or cared very much about Darwin's predicament. I cast a judgemental look at him for good measure, as if I find his behavior appalling, and am satisfied when Professor McGonagall spots my expression and turns back to Darwin without finding me and our trio suspicious.

As we turn the corner outside of the dining hall, I look back to see if Narcissa Malfoy is around. She isn't, and I breathe a subtle sigh of relief. She must still be in her office, busied with something or another she's found to do with her time. The last thing I need is for Narcissa to believe I'm tied into the mystery of Who The Fuck Drugged Darwin. She already suspects me of trouble; if she decides to assume I'm responsible for the slipping of the LSD, she'll hate me forever. There would be no going back.

The three of us slink into the Slytherin common room and bury ourselves into the green velvety cushions seated around the enchanted fire that flicks our shadows over the stones of the wall behind us like tiny dancers. We're smart enough not to so much as mention Darwin's name, and instead brainstorm ideas of how to sneak Draco into parties and mischief without him getting caught. I'll be damned if he ends up having to sit around bored all year on account of his mother.

Lunch period passes relatively quickly, and soon we're heading to Professor McGonagall's classroom for Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall talks about Animagi and the finery every detail of the transformation brings to the mastering of the ability. She dwells excessively on horror stories of failed Animagi attempts by witches and wizards of the past. She provides us the slim statistics of witches and wizards who have succeeded in becoming Animagi, versus how many have failed. As expected, the odds of failing far outweigh any hopes of success, and only a small percentage of the Wizarding population are Animagis.