Wot In The Harri Potter?

6 - The Blood Traitor

We had our first flying lesson, and I was crap.

Guess I won't be joining the Quidditch team, after all.

*****

At the Halloween feast, Professor Quirrell anounces that a troll is in the dungeons, and then faints.

Dumbledore, the great headmaster he is, orders the prefects to lead us all back to our dormitories.

"But- but aren't we just going straight to the danger?" Pansy hisses as we all file out of the Great Hall.

"Told you he hates us Slytherins," Blaise lazily drawls, unbothered. "Prejudiced prick."

"Wait until my father hears about this!" Draco fumes. "Crabbe, Goyle, stay close."

I say nothing, just follow the rest of them down, keeping my fingers crossed that the troll isn't asleep in my bed.

*****

"You did what?" I gasp, as Ron fills me in on his previous nights adventures.

"I saved Hermione from the troll," he boasts. "Called it a pea-brain and everything. Now we're good friends."

"You and the troll?"

"No, me and Hermione." Ron corrects me. "To tell you the truth, I used to think she was a bit of a stuck up bitch, but she's alright actually. And she lets me copy her homework."

I zone out whilst he goes on about how he can't resist rescuing a damsel in distress. I feel glum, but I don't know why. It's not that I'm jealous, but maybe I am. Not because of Hermione though, but because it sounds like an adventure I would have liked to be a part of.

Slytherins don't adventure much. We're all too into that self preservation crap.

Making my excuses, I leave the Gryffindor table and wander back over to my friends sat at the Slytherin table. Draco frowns at me as I approach, and I know I am about to get a lecture.

"What is it you see in Weasley?" He pouts. "You do know his family are blood traitors, don't you?"

"Blood traitors?" I ask, having never heard this term before. "What do you mean by that?"

Blaise coughs loudly into his tea. "Don't encourage him, Potter."

But Draco ignores him, his grey eyes flashing as he looks at me. "It's exactly what it says on the tin: lovers of Mudbloods and Muggles, and even other blood traitors themselves."

My eyes widen. "Are you serious? Surely then that means almost everyone in this hall?"

"How do you mean by that?" Draco asks my question back to me.

"Well," I shrug. "Take me, for instance. My cousin is a Muggle and I love him. And my mother was a Muggle-born - I guess I must have loved her, being her daughter and all. So I guess I'm a blood traitor too."

Draco splutters as I continue to give him examples.

"And everyone in Gryffindor loves the Weasleys, so I suppose that makes the entire house blood traitors. And then what about the numerous Muggle-borns in all the other houses? Are you suggesting that all their friends are blood traitors too?"

The pink tinge on Draco's face grows darker and darker with each word, whilst Blaise's snickers get louder.

"And don't forget about the fact that you're friends with me, so I suppose that too makes you a blood-"

"Alright, you've made your point!" Draco snaps. "Now let me eat my coco pops in peace!"

I exchange a look with Blaise and we both smirk.

*****

I write to Dudley every week, detailing all about my new, magical life.

He doesn't always write back, but every now and then, Hedwig will bring me back the odd letter, which were often a lot shorter than my ones to him.

I don't mind though - I know my cousin isn't a big fan of writing. I am just thankful to hear that he is okay out there.

However, not long before Christmas, I receive a brief note from him, which does not surprise me, but still makes me feel slightly empty inside.

Hey Harri,
Mum and Dad say you can't come home during the Christmas holidays as there are paying guests in your room.
Sorry, Harri. Perhaps it's for the best. You know what they're like.
Happy Christmas.
Dudley

"Are you alright?" Pansy asks, looking at me as I scrunch up Dudley's note in my hand. "Bad news?"

"Looks like I'm staying here over the holidays," I sigh, offering no more information.

My breakfast companions exchange looks, each raising their eyebrows.

"Well," Draco drawls, buttering his toast. "I suppose I could ask Mother and Father if you could stay with us-"

"No, please," I quickly interrupt. As much as I appreciate my friendship with Draco, I do not fancy meeting his parents who clearly hold prejudiced views more strongly than Draco. "I'm happy to stay at school."

"Really?" Pansy asks, her mouth agape with horror. "But you'll have to spend it with teachers!"

"And not to mention that you'll be left all alone in the dungeons," Blaise adds, squirting ketchup on his poached egg. "I doubt any other Slytherins will stay on. Well, except for Snape."

I shudder at the thought of pulling a Christmas cracker over the turkey with our Potions Master.

It turns out, however, that the Weasleys are staying on too. Hooray!

Although I do wake up all alone in the Slytherin dormitory on Christmas morning, I find I do not actually mind the solitude. I even find a pile of presents at the foot of my bed - all for me!

All my friends get me sweets of some wizarding variety: Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans from Blaise, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum from Pansy, a packet of Liquorice Wands from Crabbe and Goyle (apparently they must buy gifts together), and a huge box of Chocolate Frogs from Draco.

Strangely, I get a maroon coloured knitted jumper from Ron with a gold letter 'R' on it. It is miles too small for me and looks well worn.

And quite generously, I think, my aunt and uncle sellotape a fifty-pence piece to a letter. I smile when I open Dudley's gift - a book titled 'The Worst Witch'.

But there is another gift, one left with an unsigned note:

Your father left this in my possession before he died.
It is time it was returned to you.
Use it well.
A Very Merry Christmas to you.

*****

So, I saw my dead parents.

*****

I decide to keep quiet about my Invisibility Cloak for now, saying nothing about it when my fellow Slytherins return.

The rest of the year is rather uneventful.

On the last day of the school year, during the leaving feast, Pansy comes to us with some eventful news.

"Quirrell is dead!"

"What? How? When?"

"He was found dead deep beneath the castle. Apparently he was trying to break into something but got trapped and died because no one knew he was there."

"So who is gonna teach Degence Against the Dark Arts next year?"

"Not Quirrell."

The Slytherin table erupts into raucous laughter.

We are still on a high after winning the House Cup.

*****