The Lion and the Swan (A Harry Potter Fan Fiction)

Chapter iii

"You filthy Mudblood!" I spat at the bushy-haired fourth-year who had just spilled her ink all over me. She pulled out her wand, as if about to try to clean me up, but I drew my wand first.

"Furnunculus!" I shouted, pointing my wand at Granger's face. The moment the beam of orange light hit her face, the mudblood's skin broke out into tremendously horrible boils. She shrieked like a little baby as she felt the lumps all over her face and ran out of the Entrance Hall, Potter and his blood-traitor sidekick in hot pursuit.

"Nice one, Breyanna," said Miranda, clutching her side as she laughed.

"You really put that little bitch in her place," agreed Priscilla.

But at that moment, Snape walked up. It was obvious from his expression that he had seen the whole scene.

"Miss Zabini, what was that bit of hexing I just witnessed? It's the first day back, and you're already breaking the rules?" he said, his voice as flat and emotionless as always.

I gulped, one-hundred percent sure that I was about to get a detention. "Sorry, sir, I'm afraid I got a little too carried away with my fun."

"Just don't let it happen again," he said, smirking. "You don't want your sixth year to be ruined by an endless slew of detentions. And please, watch the language."

The moment he was out of earshot, I sighed in relief. Snape was a complete softie towards his Slytherins, especially me. I was one of his particular favorites, probably because of my potion-making prowess and because I had clinched the Quidditch Cup for Slytherin three years in a row. I could get away with anything when Snape's around. Actually, I was pretty good at coercing anyone into doing anything. Nowadays, Priscilla and Miranda did literally anything I told them to. I had snagged a hot boyfriend, and I ruled the Sixth Years.

"C'mon," I said to Priscilla and Miranda. "Let's get some breakfast."

We sat down at our usual places at the Slytherin table, which were empty, of course; the others had learned quickly that no one, and I mean no one, takes Breyanne Zabini's spot. We walked down the aisle between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, Priscilla and Miranda on either side of me. Heads turned as we glided past: all the boys wanted me, all the girls wanted to be me.

In the spot next to ours was my boyfriend Ruben, looking as hot and snog-able as ever. As Miranda and Priscilla sat down at the table, I sat down on Ruben's lap and greeted him with a fierce kiss, leaning against his hard chest and running my hands through his blonde hair.

"Mmm, hello to you too," he said after I pulled away. As I sat down in my own spot and grabbed a piece of toast, I stole a few sideways glances at him: over the years, all of his mousy features had been replaced by hard muscles, a chiseled jawbone, and a mop of sandy blonde hair. He was easily the most attractive boy in the sixth year, and, better yet, my father approved of him.

The whole hall was buzzing with excited chatter and I knew why: they were all talking about the Triwizard Tournament that would be happening at Hogwarts this year; Dumbledore had just announced it last night. "So, will you be entering the tournament?" asked Ruben.

Priscilla, who had turned seventeen in July, said, "Of course, I will! The champion wins fame, fortune, and glory!"

"I can't, but I wish I could," said Miranda sadly. "My birthday isn't until January, which is far past the deadline. I can't believe that old bat Dumbledore made that stupid rule. I'm so jealous, think about how amazing it would be to win!"