The Truth | The Sister book 2 | HP Fanfic |

-Chapter 31-

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If there's one piece of advice I would give to someone it would be don't mess with people Pansy Parkinson tolerates. I think this rule applies to anyone who calls themselves a Slytherin, especially since one of their traits is Fraternity.

I always thought that the pranks and high-jinx are purely a Gryffindor thing that the other houses never practiced, but now I'm not so sure. Pansy gets up, looking around the dorm room with a look on her face of sheer determination. I sit on my trunk, legs crossed and watching. She hesitates, turning to me.

"Gryffindor doesn't happen to be given Chamber pots too, are they?"

"Yeah, I don't know why since they added the bathrooms like a hundred years ago. They'll be under the beds." Pansy turns to the bed closest to her- Ginny's - and starts shoving things out from underneath it. "Why?"

"I think we should give the golden trio a taste of their own medicine." She slides the white bowl out from under the bed towards me. It's clean of course, dusty, but never used. She then shoves the one from under Hermione's bed at me. I'm not entirely sure what her plan is, but I nod.

She picks one up, leading me into the bathroom and filling it up with the green water from the bath. I smirk. Now I know what she was going on about. Making sure I get a decent amount of slime in mine, I fill my pot with the Black lake water from the bathtub. The water they had soaked my clothes in.

Pansy stands at the door impatiently, and I pick up the heavy bowl, turning to her.

"Get a move on, slow ass. I don't have all day."

I don't acknowledge her remark, and instead, walk past her and back into the dorm room. After a bit of a struggle, I open the large wooden door, and slip quietly through, doing my best not to spill the water onto the stone floor. Pansy and I creep onto the landing, hanging as low as we can. The common room is almost entirely empty, as everyone has headed off to dinner, and I worry for a moment that they've left, but then I hear mumble voices from the foot of the steps. They're waiting for me to come down with my soggy clothes so they can laugh.

Pansy and I stand up slowly, carefully lifting the pots so they sit on the bannister.

Three, two, I mouth, one!

We tip the bowls over and the green slimy water sloshes down on their heads. Hermione screams, Harry yelps and runs forward, looking up at us. I burst out laughing. Pansy runs back to the room and grabs my trunk for me, and I hurry down the stairs. Hermione glares at me. Harry is fuming, his eyes trained on me, his hands balled into fists.

I feel giddy, weightless like I've won. Like I've finally proven my point.

"And that, my friends, is why you don't mess with a Slytherin!" Pansy yells from the stairs, pushing passed Ron and walking over to me.

I, however, am frozen. Eyes trained on the book Harry has in his hands. He pulled it out from the books on the mantelpiece while Pansy was talking. It's my sketchbook. The weightlessness, the joy, it goes from my body in an instant. I feel heavy. Cold.

He hesitates, glancing at me, then at the others. Everything slows down. Harry looks at the fire, then me, and then, quickly, he throws the book onto the red coals.

My hands fly to my mouth and I scream a choked scream. You might think its' stupid to be so protective of a notebook, but it's my childhood. My first ever drawing to my latest. Photographs pressed between its pages, of our parents, of us. I feel a strangled feeling in my throat as I see the flames curl around its edges.

Then Harry stops, realising what he's done and pushing it off the coals with the fire stick. He steps back, and we both stare at the smouldering leather book that lies at my feet. I lean forward, picking it up. I ignore how hot it is, shaking as I flick through the blackened pages. At least half of it is ruined. I look up at Harry, feeling for the first time that I have bested him. He bested himself. He went too far and he knows it. He knows how much this stupid book means to me.

A small, burnt picture falls out from between the pages and lies, still burning on the red carpet. It's us as babies, possibly one of the only copies. We're smiling, fingers curled into the others, under a patchwork blanket I like to think mum made for us. The room is silent, dead silent. My eyes flicker down to the picture, then back up to Harry. I know I have the power now. To say whatever I want, and they will listen. Shaking, I open my mouth to speak.

"And you call yourself my brother."

xxx

Pansy and I walk back to the Slytherin common room in silence. She carries my trunk, occasionally glancing my way and I hold back tears. I won't cry for them. I press the warm book into my chest, almost hoping that it would set me on fire too.

She doesn't know what to say, and I don't blame her. I wouldn't know what to say either.

When we finally reach the common room, Pansy enters first, then I follow. Most of Slytherin have left for dinner too, save for a couple of kids who sit around the fires reading, nibbling at something or waiting for a friend to bring something back. The room is hushed, but not silent, mumbles and whispers are heard but no talking. I look up to see Draco pacing across the room. I step out from the shadow of the doorway, and I look up. Relief floods over his face and he walks over to me, arms outstretched.

"What happened? I-"

"I'm fine," I hiss, pushing him off. I don't need him to hug me now. I'll most certainly cry if he does. "I don't need you to worry about me."

"Clara-"

"No!" I snap over my shoulder, reaching the congregation of couches and chairs opposite the door and dropping my book onto the couch I sleep on. I place my hands on the back of it, bracing myself. I'm exhausted.

"What happened?"

"I. Am. Fine." I will not cry for them.

"They burnt her notebook," Pansy says absentmindedly. I hear the thud of her dropping my trunk.

"What? How-"

"We went to Gryffindor common room to get her clothes and they'd ruined her clothes and then tried to burn her sketchbook," Panys repeats, then mumble something to Blaise about going to get food.

"Oh, Clara, I'm so sorry-" The kindness in his voice. I hate it. I will not cry for them.

"I'm fine," I whisper, trying to ignore the tone of his voice. I feel him behind me, and he walks over to my side. He sighs, nodding. Why does he just do that? Give in. How is he so nice to me? I want to scream at someone, but I can't. I can't take it out on him. I take in a shaky breath, calming myself.

"Do you want a hand with your clothes?" He asks. I smirk, and he blushes, "I mean cleaning them, do you want a hand cleaning them because if we leave it for the house elves it'll take
ages-"

"Yeah, thanks," I say, looking up at him without a tear in sight, "That would be nice."

xxx

So even though I'm going into exams it's fine because I'm pre-writing so there will be no hiatus this time! Wish me luck!

Thanks for reading,
Taylor xx