I’ve known for a while about the Death Eaters. After all, I have two in the family. Dad and Uncle Demetrius may not be the most widely-known Death Eaters, but they’re definitely two of You-Know-Who’s strongest supporters. They expect me to join the ranks of the Dark Lord’s ranks once I’m old enough. I don’t know if I want to or not, but I probably will. But then again, I’ve never been very brave.

My name is Oliver Flynn. I’m a Slytherin, and a proud one. I possess almost every Slytherin characteristic that you can think of--I’m clever, resourceful, sly, determined, and don’t mind getting into trouble now and then. The only characteristic that I don’t have is a hatred of Muggleborns.

I may be a Pureblooded Death Eater in the making, but despite the way I was raised I just can’t see how Muggleborns are so different from the rest of us. I mean, they can still do magic and play Quidditch and Gobstones and Wizard’s Chess. They still have feelings and fall in love and get their hearts broken. They can still do well in Transfiguration and flunk in Potions and love Arithmancy.

My head hurts now from all of the insight that I just displayed. That’s Astoria’s job, not mine. Speaking of Astoria, she’s not looking quite as smug as I expected her to, with her new Prefect’s badge gleaming from the front of her robes. She’s just staring at the surface of the table and glancing up towards the Headmaster’s seat every now and then.

I know my friend well enough to understand that she’s watching Snape. Snape. I know that he’s the former Head of Slytherin and a Death Eater, but I still don’t like him. He knows that, and he doesn’t like me either. I’m awful at Potions; thank God I’ve gotten better with Professor Slughorn as the new teacher. But I still don’t know why she’d be watching Snape with such terror in her eyes, her face pale and lips trembling. Her dark brown hair is scraped back from her face into a ponytail and her dark gray eyes look scared.

“What’s wrong, Astoria?� I ask her softly. The Hall is almost completely quiet, and I don’t want to speak too loudly.

“He’s a murderer, Oliver,� she murmurs, her lips barely moving. “He killed the Headmaster last year.�


Before I can say anything, my best friend, Matthias Avery, who is sitting on the other side of Astoria, leans over to kiss the top of her head. “Don’t worry, Tori,� he tells her. “He won’t hurt you, you’re Pureblood.�

Astoria purses her lips, but Matthias doesn’t notice. I do, though, and I know that it is for two reasons. The first is that Astoria hates it when Matthias calls her Tori. The second is the she doesn’t approve of Matthias’s hatred of Muggleborns. But after a moment she leans into my friend and lets him hold her hand.

I’ll admit that I fancied Astoria in second and third year, but when she and Matthias started going out I quickly lost interest. Matthias is my best friend and much more important than any girl, even if I privately disagree with his Pureblood-mania.

Suddenly, the doors to the Hall burst open and the First Years are led in by, not Professor McGonagall, who should be leading them but is seated at the staff table, but by Alecto Carrow--one of the Death Eaters who’ll be teaching on campus. I don’t particularly like Alecto and she doesn’t like me--or anyone else, for that matter, except for maybe her brother and the Dark Lord.

The first years look terrified. There really aren’t many of them this year, and it takes me a moment to realize that this is because there are no Muggleborns.

“Were we really that short?� whispers Astoria, a small smile playing across her glittery pink lips. I shrug.

There is a silence as all eyes in the room shift to face the Sorting Hat sitting on the three-legged stool at the center of the room. We all are waiting for the Hat’s song, but nothing happens. A first year coughs.

Several minutes go by before Alecto Carrow clears her throat loudly and proclaims, “BAXTER, HENRIETTA.�

A short girl with a head full of frizzy black hair stumbles up to the stool and crams the Hat over her eyes as if to shut out the rest of the world. After a few seconds, the Hat finally speaks, proclaiming her as a Hufflepuff.

The Sorting goes by rather quickly as there are very few first years as of the lack of Muggleborns. When all of the newcomers have been placed into their respective Houses, Severus Snape stands up.

“Welcome, Hogwarts,� he says in a voice that is both quiet and demands attention. Snape has always been that sort of person. He can scare kids without even trying (though I suspect that he does), especially now that he’s been deemed a murderer. No one saw him “kill� Albus Dumbledore accept for Harry Potter, who is now on the run and wanted by the law.

All I can remember from that terrible night is a jumbled up series of scenes and noises. I had been unsure of who to fight for--the Death Eaters or my friends. I had therefore run around firing hexes in every direction. I had hit a Gryffindor girl from my year named Romilda Vane with a rather well-aimed Curse of the Bogies (taught to me by my Uncle Demetrius), and I remember that this had caused two of her friends to come and duel me. One of them, the blond one, had hit me with a Stunning Jinx at the same moment that the dark-haired one disarmed me. I had lain on the ground until Matthias came to get me.

As he’d helped me up and handed me my wand, my friend had told me that the Death Eaters had gotten away and our fathers were safe. He’d also said that we were supposed to be looking at something near the Astronomy Tower, but he wasn’t sure what it was. We had run through the corridors as fast as we could, and when we arrived I had been shocked.

I suppose that I’d just never thought of Dumbledore as vulnerable. He’d always been around to reprimand Matthias and I in our third year when we went about hexing the Gryffindors for going against Umbridge and to talk to me in my fourth year about resisting the influence that my Death Eater relatives might have on me. And then, later on during that year, when two older boys--from Hufflepuff, I believe--had been tormenting me about those very Death Eater relatives, Dumbledore had come along, taken points from them, and told them to meet him in his office. After they’d gone, he’d told me that I was better than them and that I was not like my father.

And yet I had partially fought for the Death Eaters at the end of that year. And now Dumbledore is dead. And now his supposed murderer has taken his place.

There are lots of new rules this year. The ban on Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes objects and the restrictions from the Forbidden Forests are normal, but it’s the new rules that shock me. No Hogsmeade trips unless at least three teachers sign your permission form. No Quidditch. No leaving the Common Room after 5:30. No Dueling Club, no Gobstones Club, no Frog Choir. Dementors will be patrolling the grounds. Defiant students will be punished more severely than has been allowed in the past seventy-six years. All letters will be monitored.

After the speech, we are dismissed to our Common Rooms. Astoria and the other prefects lead the first years--there are only six of them this year--to the dungeons while the rest of us follow closely behind.

“Le Serpent D’Argent,� says a sixth-year Prefect when we reach an old stone wall that seems to have a thin film of green mold growing over some of the bricks. We are under the Black Lake, and the air is damp and cold. The first years do their best to cover their surprise as the bricks move out of the way, allowing us to get inside of the passage to the Slytherin Common Room.

Despite everything, our common room hasn’t changed a bit. The low-ceilinged room gives off the same cold atmosphere, but it also has a sense of grandeur to it. The leather armchairs and sofas are in the same place, and the same greenish light shines dimly.

Although the younger students immediately head up to their dorms, a few of the older kids among us make for our old positions in the Common Room. A clique of gossipy seventh year girls--including Astoria’s older sister, Daphne Greengrass--take over a ring of couches near the fireplace, and are soon joined by a tall, dark-skinned boy. Three other boys begin to make their way towards the group, but one breaks away at the last moment and heads up the stairs to his dorm. I recognize him as Draco Malfoy.

“Oliver, are you coming?� asks Matthias, gesturing to a low-backed green sofa across from an unoccupied black armchair. Astoria stands next to him, her wide eyes and pale face eerie in the dim light.

“No thanks,� I say, running a hand through my hair and stifling a yawn. “I think I’ll just head up to bed….�

Matthias shrugs. “Suit yourself.�

With that, he and Astoria turn and begin to walk away. I do the same, but heading off in the other direction towards the stairs to the boy’s dorm. I eventually find myself bathed in the familiar silver light of the dormitory lanterns. One of my classmates, Amos Gamp, has already passed out in his bed without bothering to change out of his robes. Two other boys, Nathan Audiurn and Hadrian Rosier, are talking in hushed whispers.

“Oliver!� calls Hadrian. “We were just discussing the movements of the Death Eaters. Care to join us?�

Nathan scowls at me from behind his friend’s back. Although neither of Nathan’s parents are Death Eaters, it is well known among us that he greatly supports the organization and envies those of us who have followers of the Dark Lord in our families.

“No, thank you,� I reply, doing my best to give Hadrian a carefree grin. The other boy shrugs and returns to his conversation with Nathan.

Frowning, I collapse into my green four-poster bed and draw the curtains shut around me. The green silk shields me from the rest of the world, and I am glad for it. There is a deep gnawing in the pit of my stomach, and I can’t place what it is. Shaking off the feeling of uneasiness, I drift off to the sound of the lake’s waters lapping at the castle’s walls.

When I wake up, it takes me a moment to register where I am. After the summer holidays, it’s confusing to wake up back in my dorm.

The wristwatch that I keep on my night table (used as a clock because the strap has become too tight for my wrist) reads 7:06 am. Still tired but too awake to get back to sleep, I sit up in bed and rub my eyes.

“Good morning, Bea,� says Romilda, hardly looking up from her quill as it scribbles across the page of her diary.

“Morning,� I say, stretching and yawning in a very unladylike way. “Anybody else up yet?�

“No, just you and me.� Romilda closes her diary and curses under her breath, quickly flipping it open again.

“What is it?� I ask.

“Forgot to let the ink dry.� Romilda’s face looks rather red as she cautiously places the diary on her nightstand.

“Ooh,� I say in as annoying of a voice that I can manage this early in the morning. “Millie’s secret diary!�

“Shut up….� Romilda’s face looks even redder, and she shifts the diary so that I can’t read it.

Now fully awake, I climb from my bed and make a grab for the book. Romilda tries to block me, but too late.

“Bea!� she cries, looking panicked. “Give it back!�

She charges towards me, but I jump up onto my bed and hold it out of her reach as her nails claw at the arm that I am pushing against her forehead to keep her back.

“Dear Diary,� I read. “This is my fifth year at Hogwarts, and I don’t think it’s going to be very good.�

“Bea!� Romilda pleads. Feeling sorry for her, I focus my eyes on that first line, but still pretend to read from the book.

“My name is Romilda Vane, and I think that Auggie Henderson has the cutest bum of all of the Hufflepuffs!�

“WHAT?!� Romilda squeals. Cackling in my best imitation of The Wicked Witch of the West--the villainess from an old American film about a wizard that I watched with my mum during the summer before third year--I hand the book back to Romilda and leap off of the bed, landing safely on the other side before she can swat at me.

“I do not think that August Henderson has a cute bum!� shouts Romilda, tackling me. For a moment, we are best friends again, giggling and rolling around on the floor, yanking playfully at each other’s hair and pretending to slap each other’s faces. Then Erica and Marissa wake up and the moment is gone.

“WOULD YOU TWO KEEP IT DOWN?� yells Erica, flinging a pillow at us and missing by a long shot.

***

“Millie, will you pass the pumpkin juice?�

Romilda hands me a pitcher full of iced juice, barely looking up from her copy of The Daily Prophet .

“See anything?� asks Erica, leaning over Romilda’s shoulder to peer nosily at the paper.

“Yeah,� says Romilda. “Apparently another Muggle family’s been found dead…and there’s something about your dad, Bea!�

“WHAT?� I nearly choke on my pumpkin juice as I lean over to grab the paper.

“Don’t worry, he’s okay!� Romilda reassures me, yanking the paper out of my grip. “It’s just about how he arrested a bunch of drunks pretending to be Death Eaters…you know, big Auror and all….� She smiles and punches my arm lightly, but I continue to frown.

“Can I see it?� I ask, still not entirely convinced that my dad’s okay. She shrugs and hands me the newspaper.

Payton Farland--my dad’s last name, of course, not mine--had been walking down a street in Muggle London to find three young men with Death Eater marks branded into their forearms tormenting a young Muggle woman…. My eyes skim briefly over the rest of the article, reading quickly about how Dad had identified the marks as fakes because they were on the right forearms of the men instead of the left and how he had disarmed two men and Stunned the other before they had even realized that he was there. The Muggle’s memory had been modified and the men were now facing a trial.

Relieved, I hand the newspaper back to Romilda. “Thanks,� I murmur, feeling embarrassed for overreacting.

“No problem,� Romilda says, shooting a nasty glance at the smirking Erica. Marissa is watching the whole scene with an interested look on her face that I don’t like. She’s always been rather quiet, but also very nosy.

Once upon a time, I had been jealous of Marissa’s delicate features and curly brown hair. But by the time we were in third year, I had grown accustomed to my own straight black hair, pale skin, and brown eyes. Except for the brown eyes--those have been inherited from my father. My mother is Welsh and has blue eyes, and I wish that I could have inherited them instead.

I am so busy with prodding a bit of potato on my plate that I barely notice McGonagall handing out timetables. As she walks near us, a thousand questions are fired her way, all of which she ignores.

“Professor, what’s going on?�

“Professor, why do I have Muggle Studies?�

“Why did I have to drop Arithmancy?�

I stare at my timetable, deaf to all of the noise around me. I never signed up to take Muggle Studies at the end of my second year, and I can’t find Divination anywhere in my schedule. I frown as I scan over the parchment until I come to the note at the bottom.

As of the 1996-1997 School Year, the Ministry of Magic has decreed Muggle Studies as a required subject for all students. One elective from each student’s schedule has been randomly selected and filled in by the new Core Class.

Swearing under my breath, I shove the piece of parchment into my book bag.

***

The new “Core Class� takes place four hours later--right after lunch. Muggle Studies was taken by my friend Jenna the previous year, and she always described the classroom as being sunny and bright, with glossy and unmoving Muggle posters plastered onto the wall advertising movies, electronics, and Muggle sayings. But now the blinds are drawn over the windows, and the walls are bare of any posters except for ones of dirty, fierce-looking men holding guns, as well as paintings of supposed witches and wizards being burned or tortured during the middle ages.

“I don’t like this,� murmurs Marissa, who is sitting next to me.

“Me either,� I whisper back.

“Where’s the teacher?�

“I dunno, but all of us being left alone in a room with the Slytherins is making me nervous.�

On the other side of the room, the said Slytherins are laughing and joking about like nothing is wrong. I recognize many of them--Hadrian Rosier, who gave me a nasty hex during second year; Morgan Bullstrode and Veronica Flint, who look like they’d eagerly bite the head off of any Gryffindor within a five-foot radius of them; Astoria Greengrass and Matthias Avery, who’ve never really stood out to me but are supposedly dating; and a boy who’s name I can’t remember sitting in the desk behind them and looking sullen--I’m fairly certain that his name is Oscar Fin, but I’m not certain. All I know is that he hurt Romilda on the night that Dumbledore died and that Jenny and I decided to duel him because of it.

Suddenly, the door flies open and Alecto Carrow--one of the newer teachers and a Death Eater--storms in, looking more dangerous than a rabid mother grizzly bear that’s gone for four days without food and just got poked in the bum by a stick.

“Everybody up and in the back of the classroom!� she barks, glaring at us. “I’ve got assigned seats and I want you in them!�

Muttering a stream of rude words under my breath, I stand up and move to the back of the classroom, along with the rest of the class. I find myself standing dangerously close to Oscar Fin, and edge away slightly as he scowls at me.

Sitting in my newly assigned seat four minutes later, I find myself sitting next to Astoria Greengrass. We both make a show of ignoring each other, which is quite alright by me. In front of us are Morgan Bullstrode and Daniel Max, a fellow Gryffindor who I fancied last year. Behind us are two Slytherin girls, and off to our side are Oscar Fin and Romilda.

As Professor Carrow stands up from her desk in the front of her classroom, I brace myself for a long, hard class.

***

“That was awful!� wails Erica as we flood out of the classroom.

“At least you didn’t have to sit next to Oliver Flynn!� Romilda moans. “I mean, of all people--Flynn! He’s such a prat, and a Death Eater’s son to boot!�

“I thought that his name was Fin?� I ask, more than a little confused.

“No, no, it’s definitely Flynn,� says Marissa. “But you got off easy, Millie! I had to set next to Matthias Avery, and he’s even worse!�

“Avery’s not that bad,� points out Erica. “He’s actually quite good looking.�

“And he wouldn’t give a filthy little Gryffindor like you a single thought!�

We all jump a foot in the air as Erica whirls around to see none other than Matthias Avery himself, flanked by Astoria Greengrass and Oscar--I mean, Oliver Flynn. The two boys have venomous scowls on their faces, but Astoria keeps her eyes downcast and looks rather embarrassed--this surprises me, seeing as Erica just called her boyfriend good looking.

“Oh--um--“ stutters Erica, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

“Let me tell you, Lawrence,� growls Avery. “You may be Pureblood, but you are also a Blood Traitor…hanging out with Half-Bloods and Mudbloods…oh, wait…Archly isn’t here this year, is she?�

The slight on Jenna’s blood is what gets me angry. I draw my wand and am about to fire a curse at the surprised looking Avery when Flynn disarms me.

“That’s for last year, Porter!� he snarls, and I remember that, yes, this is definitely the boy who Jenna and I hexed. Then he and Avery push past us to stalk down the hall, Astoria trailing in their wake.

Shouting an obscenity and their retreating backs, I scoop up my wand from the floor as my friends and I turn in the opposite direction make our way to Herbology with the Hufflepuffs.

A few days into term, a notice goes up in the Slytherin Common Room. Many students are crowded around it, and Matthias and I have to push several first years out of the way before we can get a good look.

ATTENTION STUDENTS
All Slytherin Students fifth year or above are now eligible to fill out an application for the Investigational Assistants. This elite group helps to maintain order and assists teachers in picking out those who threaten to unbalance the peace of our beloved school. All applications will be distributed and collected by Professor Amycus Carrow in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Positions are limited.

Matthias snorts in disgust. "It's like that Umbridge hag is here all over again. Hell, it's just the Inquisitorial Squad reincarnated and with a less intelligent name."

A dark-haired girl with a pug-like face--Pansy Parkinson, a member of Daphne Greengrass's clique of girls--scowls at us.

"It's important!" she snaps. "The Inquisitorial Squad did quite a bit of good, and the Investigational Assistants will be even better with such strong leaders like the Carrows!"

Of course. By assissting teachers it means assissting the Carrows.

"That all depends on the members," Matthias retorts, and Pansy clenches her jaw before stalking away from us.

"Do you reckon we should sign up?" I ask Matthias, hoping he'll say no. To my disappointment, he shrugs.

"It sounds stupid, but we'll get to make the Gryffindors pissed at us. They seem to unbalance the peace quite a bit, especially the ones who weigh as much as Longbottom." Chuckling to himself, he turns away from the notice board and wades through a crowd of third years. I follow him.

I vaguely wonder why we are supposed to hate the other Houses so much--with the occasional exception of a particularly nasty Ravenclaw or two. All that seperates us from them are colors and mascots. Besides that, what is there? I remember the Weasley twins, and they were just as cunning as any Slytherin. And Granger--a Muggleborn who I only know about because she was in Harry Potter's group of followers before she, Harry, and another one of the Weasley's whose name I can't remember fled the school--was as clever as any Ravenclaw. There's a boy in Hufflepuff a year older than me named Zacharias Smith, and he's definitely Slytherin material. So what seems to be the problem between all of us?

Astoria is sitting with her sister Daphne, along with Parkinson, Davis, Bullstrode, and Amos Gamp's older sister. From the glances that Parkinson is shooting our way, we decide not to disturb them. Astoria looks like she's been crying, but I don't know why.

"What's wrong with Astoria?" I ask.

Matthias shrugs, but I can see that his fingers are flexing at his sides--something that he usually does when he's lying or angry. Deciding not to push my luck, I change the subject.

"What do you say that we head down to the kitchens to nick something to eat?"

"Sounds good," says Matthias, and we head for the Common Room exit.

***

The next day brings Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Gryffindors. It is remarkable how similar Amycus looks to Alecto--the only difference is that he has less hair on his upper lip, whereas she has the beginnings of a wispy mustache. They are both stooped and lumpy, with piggy eyes and pudgy hands. Their skin is waxy and pale and highly reminiscent of that of my Uncle Demetrius.

Just like his sister, Mr. Professor Carrow--with two Professor Carrows, it's quite confusing--gives us assigned seats. This time, I am placed next to Amos Gamp. Amos is alright, I suppose. He isn't the brightest of the Slytherins, but he's always good for a laugh. He's slightly plump, with wire-rimmed glasses and a mop of curly blond hair. We used to be friends until he started hanging out with a Hufflepuff girl, and then Matthias didn't let me go near him. But this year, the Hufflepuff is on the run from the Ministry--she was a Muggleborn.

"Hullo, Oliver," Amos greets me, smiling broadly. His speech is slurred slightly, but that's normal for him. He's a Half-Blood, and his parents make him wear some sort of Muggle contraption--something called a retraimer, I believe? Retrainer? Retainer.

"Hey, Amos."

He opens his mouth to speak, but our conversation is interrupted by a loud crashing noise. Beatrice Porter, who is sitting next to another Gryffindor, has tripped over her chair. Amycus--it's rather hard to think of him as intelligent enough to be a professor--smiles nastily.

"That's twenty points from Gryffindor, Miss Porter, for class disruption an' unnecessary noise."

Porter purses her lips, but says nothing as she sits down next to her fellow Gryffindor. Her face is a bright red, and the boy next to her looks sympathetic.

"Twenty more points for not giving the appropray--appropa--appropiate apology," wheezes Amycus.

"I apologize, Professor," growls Porter.

"Don't use that tone wi' me or I'll take another ten points."

Porter opens her mouth once more, but Amycus cuts her off. "As you all should know by now, my name is Professor Carrow an' I'll be teaching you Defence 'gainst the Dark Arts. 'Cept, under current circumstances, we'll be needing to get a better compra--compri--comprehension of what we're, er, fighting 'gainst."

I don't hear much more of his speech until a Gryffindor boy--the one next to Porter--raises his hand.

"Excuse me, sir," he says. "If we're going to be practicing these spells, doesn't that make us no better than You-Know-Who?"

Amycus sneers, and I feel almost sorry for the boy. He must not know very much if he's going to say that to a Death Eater.

"Mr. Max," wheezes Amycus. "Given the current circumstances, I would highly recommend that you show the Dark Lord proper respect."

The boy, who I know remember is named Daniel Max, scowls. "Respect? You expect us to show him respect?"

Amycus opens his mouth, looking unsure, but is cut off.

"He's killing people! He's destroying our lives! Why should we give him respect?"

"Fifty points from Gryffindor!" Amycus bellows. "And detention tomorrow night at eight."

"That's after curfew," Daniel says mockingly. "I have to be in my Common Room at five."

Next to him, Porter is looking like she wants to throttle him.

"Then I will arrange to have you escorted!" snaps Amycus. "And another twenty points for defiance and classroom disruption!"

The class goes on undisturbed after that. I can practically feel the hatred radiating off of the Gryffindors, and it makes me nervous. An angry Gryffindor is not someone to cross. Last year, when a seventh year named McLaggen didn't make the Quidditch Team, he hexed Amos so badly that Amos was in the hospital wing for a week.

As the bell is ringing, Amycus stands by the door and hands application for the "Investigational Assistants" (the most stupid-sounding organization that I've ever heard of) to all of the Slytherins. The only one who does not accept one is Astoria, who mutters something about Prefect duties and walks away before either Matthias or I can catch up.

***

Later, in the Common Room, I see Astoria sitting alone and working on an essay. I'm worried about her. He's always been quiet, but now it's to the point of where she can't even make eye contact with anyone except for her older sister, Daphne.

"Hey," I say, sitting next to her, and she gives a little start of surprise.

"Oliver!" she gasps. "You snuck up on me!"

I shrug, feeling embarassed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to."

She smiles. "I know that you didn't mean to."

After a moment, I ask, "Why haven't you been hanging out with Matthias and I?"

She bites her lip and does not meet my gaze, but continues shakily writing her essay. "I... I don't know. Why?"

I lean forward. "Astoria, I know both of you well enough to know that something's bothering you and Matthias won't talk about it. I'm really worried about you, okay?"

She looks me in the eye, and my breath catches slightly in my throat. I've always thought of her eyes as being gray, but they're more of a delicate gray-blue, like the sky after a storm when all of the clouds have gone away. It suits her--she's always been there for others, now I have to be there for her.

"Please tell me," I whisper.

She sets down her quill. Then, so softly that I can hardly hear, "He hit me."

And then she is crying as she rolls up one of her sleeves to expose a large, sickly bruise on her shoulder.

I can feel myself stiffen inside. Why would that complete bastard ever hurt Astoria? She's his girlfriend, for Merlin's sake!

"I'll talk to him."

"No," she chokes out, wiping her eyes. "I... just leave it alone, Oliver."

"Is there anything that I can--?"

"No," she says again. Then she stands up, gathers up her belongings, and runs to her dormitory before I can stop her.

It's early October by the time the Carrows make their first real move. One morning, as we're sitting at the Gryffindor Table in the Great Hall, Alecto Carrow comes over and grips the arm of a blond seventh year.

"Come with me, Mr. Longbottom," she hisses, and drags him away with her. Nervous glances are cast around the table after he leaves, and a murmur goes up around the room.

After breakfast, I head down to Potions. I make sure to avoid Romilda, Erica, and Marissa. Romilda may be my friend, but Erica and Marissa are just plain annoying. Besides, I need to be on my own for a few minutes. I need to think.

Something is horribly wrong at Hogwarts. It has been ever since Dumbledore died. Before the end of last year, the school was a sanctuary. Now it's a prison. I want to go home, and we're barely a month into term.

Only two things comfort me. The first is that we'll be rid of at least one of the Carrows next year since Amycus teaches "Defense Against the" Dark Arts. The second is that Harry Potter is still out there, which means that we still have a fighting chance. We can't wait on Harry forever, though, so how can we fight back in the meantime?

Stop being silly, says a voice in my head. Something much darker than the Carrows is out there, and all you can think about is how to stand up to two of your teachers.

I'm one of the first ones to the dungeon. The only other is a girl with slightly wavy brown hair and blue-gray eyes. I recognize her as Astoria Greengrass. She looks lonely, but there's no way I'm going to sit near her if Avery and Flynn are going to be around. I plunk down at an empty table.

Astoria is quickly joined by Amos Gamp, but I am surprised when Flynn and Avery sit at a different table with two other Slytherin boys. Flynn keeps shooting glances over at Astoria, but she doesn't seem to notice. Avery, however, is completely ignoring her.

Romilda and the others sit down at the same table I'm at, but they barely seem to be paying attention to me.

"Looks like Greengrass is out of a boyfriend," sniggers Marissa.

"Did the love potion finally wear off?" Erica whispers, and they both laugh. I am horrified to see that Romilda is laughing to. Abruptly, I stand up.

"Miss Porter," chides Slughorn. "I haven't even begun the lesson! Is something wrong?"

I do my best to keep my face expressionless. "I was wondering if I could change seats, sir."

Slughorn looks around for a moment. "Why don't you sit by Miss Greengrass and Mr. Gamp?"

The two Slytherins keep their eyes downcast. Hopefully they'll just ignore me. Aware of everyone's eyes boring into me, I trudge across the room and slump into one of the remaining chairs. I don't look at my new partners, and they don't look at me. This seems to be working out quite well.

"Right then," says Professor Slughorn, looking rather uncomfortable. "Today we will be brewing a Draught of Peace. It's a rather difficult potion, but you will be graded on effort rather than the final result. This Potion will be on your OWL exams, so I think that you should get some practice in. You may begin."

I'm at the ingredient cupboard when Daniel Max grips my elbow. "What happened?" he asks, jerking his head over to Romilda's table.

"I just can't listen to them making fun of people like that," I mutter. "It isn't ... it just isn't right." I yank my arm away and grab a moonstone from the cabinet before hurrying back to my seat.

Astoria, who seems to be very good at Potions, is helping Amos quite a bit.

"You're crushing it the wrong way," she tells him, gently taking the pestle and grinding up the moonstone in the mortar. "Try to make it deliberate--almost like a grinding motion."

Amos nods and stabs at the stone with the pestle. It flies out of the bowl and lands on the floor, where it neatly cracks in half. Astoria laughs, but not unkindly.

Oliver Flynn walks over. "I have the powdered kind," he mutters, thrusting a bag of powdered moonstone at his friends. Then, with a guilty look on his face, he walks back to his table.

The two Slytherins continue to brew their potions, but I continue to struggle with the moonstone.

"Need some?" asks Astoria, avoiding my gaze as she holds out the bag.

"Yes, please," I reply softly, taking some and adding it to my cauldron. Then, "Thank you."

She nods and hands the bag back to Amos, who gets up to return it to Flynn.

"It's Astoria, right?" I ask, doing my best not to pay attention to the crest on her robes. She may be a Slytherin, but she doesn't seem to be the worst of them.

"Yeah," she mutters. "You're Beatrice Porter."

"You can call me Bea," I say quickly. She raises her eyebrows, and I feel my face turn red. "I hate the name Beatrice."

She grins. "I like my name, and Beatrice is a very pretty name as well." She cocks her head. "I think that Bea suits you, though."

I blink. "How would you know?"

"I've been one of your classmates for about five years," she replies, smirking. "I can tell what people are like, and I can see that you're not at all like those girls." She nods over at Erica, Marissa, and Romilda. "I know what it's like not to fit in all of the time."

Feeling embarassed, I begin to add hellebore to my cauldron. "Yeah," I say lamely. "I mean, I guess I am like them, but--"

"No," she says. "You're not. You didn't join in on making fun of me."

"You heard that?"

She smirks again. "Most of it, but I'm not particularly bothered."

I'm rather surprised by this. Astoria has always seemed quiet, even meek, to me. But here she is carrying out a conversation with a Gryffindor whom she has never spoken to before. And she seems to be contributing a lot more than I am.

Amos returns. "Matthias wants to talk to you, Astoria."

"Tell him to piss off," she says harshly. "I'm done with him." Shrugging, she goes back to brewing her potion.

Ever the Slytherin.

By the end of class, my potion is a purple sort of sludge and Amos Gamp's is orange and emitting sparks. Astoria's, however, is the closest to perfect that anyone's gotten. Despite Slughorn's promises to grade us by effort rather than result, she receives top marks and undesired praise. From across the classroom, Matthias Avery is shooting her venemous glares.

After an awkward goodbye to Astoria and Amos, I shoulder my bookbag and exit the dungeon. I am taken by surprise when a pair of hands shoves me into a wall, causing me to hit my shoulder on the cold stones.

"What's the matter with you?" demands an angry-looking Romilda. I don't think I've ever seen her this mad since Ginny Weasley kissed Harry Potter in the Common Room last year.

"What?" I ask, grimacing slightly at the pain in my shoulder. Lurking behind my friend are Marissa and Erica, both looking annoyed and uncomfortable.

"You know what I mean," snaps Romilda, shoving me again. This time I regain my balance and draw my wand.

"No," I say coldly, pointing it at her. "I'm afraid that I don't know what you mean."

Romilda eyes the wand warily. "You walk out on us for no reason to go hang out with some slimy, low-level Slytherins. You've been nothing but rotten since term started, hardly ever laughing and acting like you're too good for us. But you know what?" She draws her own wand. "You're not."

I stand there, shocked.

"You're no good," Romilda tells me. "You never have any fun and you walk out on your own friends to consort with the enemy. You won't even walk with us in the hallways! You--"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" I shout.

Professor Slughorn comes panting out of his classroom. "LADIES!" he bellows. "Wands away! NOW."

Before he has time to dock points, I shove my wand into my pocket and stomp off down the corridor, angry tears clouding my vision.

***

I'm sitting in the Common Room when I hear the news, numbly stroking Catastrophe's sleek black fur. How could this year get any worse? I wonder. So far, I've been to a hearing, gotten two crappy teachers, cost Gryffindor about seventy House Points in the course of a month, and lost my best friend. Way to screw things up, Porter.

I barely notice Daniel Max until he plops down next to me. "Did you hear the news?"

"What news?" I ask bitterly.

"It's Longbottom! Neville Longbottom! He got Crucio-ed this morning by Alecto Carrow!"

My head snaps up. "What?"

"Neville Longbottom got--"

"No, I heard what you said. Just...why?" I ask, horrified.

"I dunno, but these Carrows are a lot more trouble than I thought they were. And apparently, this is going to become standard punishment." He pauses. "Are you okay, Bea? You look sick."

My head swirls with thoughts and worries. "I... I'm okay. I just...." Not bothering to complete my sentence, I stand up. Catastrophe mews indignantly. "Let me know if you hear anything else, okay Daniel?"

"Of course I will. And--there's something else."

"What?" I ask, worried.

"Do you remember when Umbridge was here in Third Year?"

"Vividly."

"Well, the Carrows've made up this stupid reincarnation of the Inquisitorial Squad. I forget what it's called, but it's something dumb. Do you know what that means, Bea?"

"No," I say, eyeing him warily. "What?"

"They're doing it again," he tells me, his eyes bright. "Neville Longbottom and his friends. They're restarting Dumbledore's Army!"

I am a horrible person. At least, that's what I tell myself as my gaze wanders over to Astoria for the umpteenth time during Potions. She seems so different with Amos and Porter--happy, laughing, and talkative. Were Matthias and I burdening her that much?

Matthias isn't happy. To be honest, he's actually rather annoyed at me for helping Astoria with the powdered moonstone. But that's okay. It's most definitely not the first time he's been mad at me, and it certainly won't be the last. But I think that the real reason Matthias is angry is because Astoria isn't paying attention to him. In fact, she's acting like he doesn't exist. But then, it's the same situation vice versa.

Matthias is used to his ex-girlfriends glancing at him angrily or even tearfully. But Astoria--quiet, gentle Astoria--is completely ignoring him. It's an act of defiance that he would have never expected from her. But then, he shouldn't have hit her. I can't help but worry though, given the message that Amos just delivered.

I'm done with him.

My head is whirling with foolish ideas. Astoria isn't interested in Matthias anymore. If Matthias isn't interested in her either...then maybe, just maybe...

Stop it, I tell myself angrily. I'd promised myself back in third year that I was done liking Astoria. She'd been dating my best friend, so what else had I been supposed to do? But now.... Well, now she and Matthias aren't together. So where does that put me?

I feel like a horrible friend. I probably am.

After class, I follow Matthias out of the classroom. Astoria and Amos are now walking ahead of Porter, who is walking alone.

I see Vane and her lot moving towards Porter, but I don't bother to warn her. Why warn her? Why should I help her? I may not have a grudge against the Houses themselves, but Porter...well; I can hold a grudge against anyone who's hexed me. Especially gossipy and giggly girls like Porter.

Like everyone else, I stop to watch as Vane shoves Porter into a wall.

"What's the matter with you?"

"What?" asks Porter, looking genuinely confused. I wonder what Vane is so ticked off about.

"You know what I mean!" snarls Vane. When she attempts to shove Porter again, the other girl draws her wand.

"No, I'm afraid that I don't know what you mean."

Astoria and Amos have turned around, and I catch Astoria's eye. She looks at me for a moment, and I realize just how very beautiful she is. Then she turns her attention back to Porter. I hope that she doesn't intervene--Matthias is angry enough with her as it is, and if she defends a Gryffindor I don't know what lengths he might go to.

"You walk out on us for no reason to go hang out with some slimy, low-level Slytherin," Vane is saying. "You've been nothing but rotten since term started, hardly ever laughing and acting like you're too good for us. But you know what? You're not." She draws her wand as well, and a murmur goes through the spectators.

Next to me, the grin on Matthias's face is growing wider and wider.

"You're no good. You never have any fun and you walk out on your own friends to consort with the enemy. You won't even walk with us in the hallways! You--"

But before Vane can finish her sentence, Slughorn comes out and shouts at them to put their wands away. Porter takes off, but Vane stands there alone looking shocked as Lawrence and Bishop--her two remaining minions--hurry down the corridor, whispering to each other.

Our next class is Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs. Matthias slouches into the seat next to mine, shooting death glares at Astoria's turned back as she jokes and talks with Amos. Is she really this happy, or is she going out of her way to annoy Matthias?

The first Transfiguration lesson of the year is difficult, and I honestly don't know why we would ever have to vanish a snail, but Professor McGonagall insists that it is important.

"Evanesco!" I say, pointing my wand at the snail. Nothing happens, but I expected that. I'm okay at Transfiguration, but it usually takes me a few tries to get the hang of a spell. My best subject is Arithmancy, but not many people think that it's very important. Not like Charms or Potions.

At least I'm not as bad off as Matthias. When he says the incantation, his snail turns pink and bloats to the size of his hand.

"Mr. Avery!" McGonagall is behind him in an instant. "Would you care to explain what just happened?"

Matthias looks up at her and smirks, glad to be the center of attention. "The snail turned pink. That means I pass my first year exams, right?"

Several people laugh. I am not one of them, and neither is McGonagall.

"And what are we supposed to be doing, Avery?"

Matthias shrugs. "I dunno. Say Oliver, what were we doing again?"

I sink lower into my seat as more people laugh. Why me?

"Mr. Flynn."

I look up to see McGonagall staring down at me. Of course, Matthias would be the one to make the Head of Gryffindor angry at the start of term.

"Mr. Flynn," she says again. "Please explain to your illiterate friend what today's lesson is. Mr. Avery, you will write a four page essay tonight on exactly what you did wrong."

"I thought I was illiterate!" Matthias calls to the professor's retreating back.

"Twenty points from Slytherin," she replies. "Any more interruptions and it's a detention."

Matthias smirks and slouches back into his chair, absentmindedly prodding the snail with the tip of his wand.

By the end of the lesson, I am the only one to have accomplished anything after vanishing two snails.

***

The first assistants (it's less humiliating to call it that than the full name) meeting is held in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. At seven o'clock, I go with Matthias, Nathaniel, and Hadrian. Amos does not come, and I envy him.

It's all Slytherins, which makes sense seeing as we were probably the only House invited to join. Almost everyone fifth year and up is there. Amos isn't, though, and neither are the Greengrass sisters or Draco Malfoy. That's interesting--Draco Malfoy is the first person who I would have expected to join.

Our group sits in the very back. Matthias and Hadrian slouch and grin lazily, trying to look cool, but it pretty much just makes them look stupid. Especially when Nathaniel copies them, leaving me as the only one with good posture and a serious expression. I am not imitating them. I don't even want to be here.

Alecto is already at the front of the classroom, but Amycus comes in a few minutes later. After a few moments, Alecto stands up and clears her throat. Almost immediately, the room falls silent.
"All right, yeh lot," barks Amycus. "I assume that yeh all know what yeh are here for--everyone in this room has been selected to be a member of the Investigational Assistants."

Not for the first time, I wonder what Matthias has dragged me into.

"Yeh'll all know by now about the new Ministry laws. The Wizardin' World has finally decided to return to our old ways. There are, however, a few rebels out there who're tryin' to stop the change." He casts his eyes around the room as if searching for signs that we might be like those people.

"All of yeh," he says. "Are the next gen'ration. Yeh are the ones who'll benefit from the new regime. Yeh are going to either enforce it...or fight it."

"We want to help yeh to make the right decision," adds Alecto.

Next to me, Matthias is looking pleased. Clearly he agrees whole-heartedly with the Carrows. Nathaniel and Hadrian are smiling as well.

I then realize that I am not like them. I may be a Slytherin, and my father may be a Death Eater, but I don't want a new regime. I like our world the way it is. I don't want to support rules that are unfair or pointless

But then again, I don't have much of a choice.

The next few days are horrible. Romilda and I haven’t even attempted to talk to each other, and I don’t want to. But it’s hard to ignore that fact that I don’t have any real friends anymore.

It is seven o'clock on a Friday when Daniel and I slip unnoticed from the Common Room and head towards the fifth floor.

"Where are we supposed to meet them?" I whisper.

"Classroom 5B," he replies casually. "Why are you whispering?"

"I was under the impression that we were sneaking around."

Dan shrugs. "If we look like we're sneaking around, it will be obvious that we are."

This comment makes little to no sense to me, but I keep my mouth shut for the next few minutes.

"Where are your friends?" I eventually ask. Dan is usually surrounded by a group of guys who are always joking around or laughing with (or at) other people or flirting with girls. Most of them are annoying, but some of them are nice.

Dan is silent for a moment. Then, "They aren't coming."

"They don't want to?"

"They're scared. And so am I, but I...I want to make a point." He grimaces. "I'm not letting anyone control me. Especially not the Carrows."

I look at him, but he does not meet my eyes. I'd never really thought of Dan as being the type to choose moral over his friends--despite their faults, they're a tightly knit group. They stick by each other no matter what. But then, so did Romilda and I.

Were we ever friends? Or were we held together only by the others? Or was it the other three and I being held together by Jenna? Maybe I haven't even been in our group for a long time. Maybe I never was....

"You seem quiet."

I look up. "Pardon?"

"I said that you seem quiet," Daniel repeats.

"Oh, sorry. I guess just...I've got a lot on my mind."

Dan gives me a look of sympathy. "Millie?"

"Yeah," I mutter, embarrassed. "What's it to you?"

Daniel is silent for a moment. "Beatrice, not all friends are forever," he says finally. "All of that stuff about being best friends forever? It's not true. People grow up. They change."

For some reason, I feel tears prickling my eyes. Romilda and I were friends for so long, and now...we just aren't.

"And how do you know all of this?" I ask. "Being Mr. Popular and all?"

Now he's the one who looks embarrassed. "Look, it's nothing. Just know that it's not your fault if Romilda is acting this way."

We don't talk after that. Not until we reach the fifth floor and slip into classroom 5B.

As we enter the old classroom, several people look up nervously.

"Hi," I say lamely.

"Hi," says a red-haired girl who I recognize as Ginny Weasley. "You here to join or just looking for an empty room?"

I feel my face go red and splutter for a moment. Then Dan regains his voice.

"Er--the former. This is Dumbledore's Ar--?"

"Shut up!" says a seventh year with sandy hair nervously. His voice has an Irish lilt to it. "Don't talk so loudly and just get in here!"

Still embarrassed, I stumble into the room after Dan.

"We're just waiting for the stragglers," a slightly chubby seventh year says. He must be Neville Longbottom, the ringleader. "We'll start in a few minutes."

I sit down as far away from Dan as possible. He looks hurt. I know it's not his fault, but there's no way that I'm having anyone even assume that...urgh.

The last people to arrive are two seventh year girls from Hufflepuff, who duck inside breathlessly.

“Sorry we’re late,� says the taller one. Her hair is woven into two braids, and her wide brown eyes look nervous. “Crabbe and Parkinson were tailing us, and we had to throw them off.�

“Wonder what they were doing together,� mutters the Irish boy. The girl next to him punches his arm. She’s Lavender Brown--I know her because she had an extremely public relationship with one of the Weasleys last year (though I can’t remember what his name was).

“Alright, Neville,� whispers Ginny after Silencing and Locking charms have been put up around the room. “Go on.�

Longbottom stands up, looking unsure of himself. “Ah…right. Well, hello, everyone. As you can tell, a few things--well, a lot of things, actually--have changed this year. And not for the better.� He pauses, looking uncertain.

“We mean to counter-attack,� says Ginny, standing up alongside him. “We’re going to show the Carrows and the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who himself where we stand.�

“Ginny, last time Dumbledore’s Army was around we all got caught,� a sixth year says. “You remember that, don’t you?�

“Who doesn’t?� Ginny mutters.

“There’s a lot bigger things out there than getting a few detentions now,� Neville says. “Times have changed.�

“Harry’s still out there,� says a Ravenclaw girl with misty gray eyes and dirty blond hair. She appears to have radishes hanging from her ears, which is rather frightening. “There’s still hope.�

“But we can’t wait here forever,� the Irish boy says, speaking up. “So Nev is right. We don’t have a choice.�

If Neville is bothered by the nickname, he doesn’t show it.

“Seamus and the others have a point,� a Ravenclaw boy with shoulder-length black hair agrees. “If we sit around, we’ve already given up.�

“Most of us are in our later years at Hogwarts,� Neville continues. “When and if we leave the school, what are we supposed to expect? We’re going to have to either join the Death Eaters or go down fighting them.�

“Where are we going to meet up?� inquires a Hufflepuff. “The Room of Requirement was discovered last time.�

“We were careless,� Ginny says, dismissing this. “We just need to phrase a few things differently. Neville, Luna, and I have been experimenting with the Room. Neville’s got a knack for it.�

“All you’ve gotta do is seal up the loopholes,� Neville says modestly. “Last time, we didn’t say anything specific about keeping Umbridge and her cronies out. This time will be different.�

“So why did we meet up here?� Daniel asks. “Why didn’t we just go straight to the Room?�

The Ravenclaw girl--Luna, apparently--smiles. “Oh, that’s easy! We just need to give each other a way of communicating with each other.�

“How?� I inquire, feeling left out of the conversation.

Now Neville smiles. “Simple.� He takes a bag out of the pocket of his robes and shakes it. It emits the jingling sound of money.

“You’re…paying us?� I ask uncertainly.

Ginny rolls her eyes.

“Seamus,� says Neville. “Would you mind passing these out? One to each person.�

Grinning, the Irish boy--Seamus--gets up and passes out one Galleon to each of us.

“They’re enchanted,� Neville explains. “See those little numbers?� He taps his wand to the coin he holds in his own hand. “Look at them now.�

I already am. When Neville tapped his wand to the fake Galleon, the one in my hand grew hot.

DA meets in RR.

Half an hour of debating and talking later, we all sign our names on a bit of parchment.

“A similar paper was used in the first DA,� Neville says. “It was Hermione Granger’s idea. She didn’t give anyone a warning, but I will. Anyone who blabs receives gets a bad case of pustules. You all remember what happened to Edgecomb?�

Some of the older students nod uneasily. Even I know who Marietta Edgecomb was. A Ravenclaw three years above me, she’d had a bad case of acne during her sixth and seventh year. I never knew it was from a jinx, let alone one that lasted for at least two years.

When the meeting is finally over, Dan and I walk back to the Common Room, careful not to be seen. It’s not curfew yet, but it’s getting close.

“You nervous?� I ask. I know that I am.

He shrugs. “Of course I am. But joining up is the right thing to do.�

***

I take a long time getting to sleep. Romilda and Erica and Marissa are giggling as they sit together on Erica’s bed, sending occasional glances my way. When I can’t stand it anymore, I draw the curtains close around me and burrow under the blankets of my bed.

I seem to be constantly fighting battles. Whether against the Carrows or my so-called friends, I can’t seem to get a moment’s rest.

�Be safe.�

Dad’s words float back to me from over a month ago, way back when I was at King’s Cross Station about to board the Hogwarts Express.

How am I supposed to be safe in such a horrible place? Am I supposed to just let people push me around? Or am I supposed to go against my morals and take the easy path?

As I listen to the other three girls whispering and laughing, the tears that I’ve been holding back over the past few days finally leak out.

On the twenty-ninth of October, the school is in an uproar. Not even the Carrows can do anything to staunch the flow of the rumors flying around the castle.

No one knows how the word started spreading. Even the Daily Prophet doesn't have anything to say about the matter. But somehow, the entire school has started talking about the exciting bit of news. I suppose that it's a way to reassure themselves that the reign of Snape and the Carrows is about to crumble.

"Did you hear the news?" Amos asks me during Defense Against the Dark Arts.

I raise one eyebrow. "What news?"

Making sure that no one is listening, Amos leans in close. "Harry Potter broke into the Ministry of Magic yesterday!"

"What?" I ask, too startled to care about who hears me.

"Sssh!" Amos looks around nervously, but Amycus Carrow is nowhere to be seen. "Yesterday, Harry Potter and two others--don't ask me who, nobody knows--used a Polyjuice Potion to get into the Ministry."

"But that's a suicide mission!" I'm struggling to keep my voice low.

"I know," says Amos, grinning. "The three Ministry workers got laid off for it, and one of them--Cattermole, his name was--fled with his family and hasn't been seen once. His wife was a Mudbl--Muggleborn, and Potter saved her and a bunch of others from Azkaban!"

"So Potter's rescuing them now?" I wonder aloud. "He's risking his neck for people he doesn't even know?"

"No one knows, to be honest," Amos replies. "The rumors are spreading like a wildfire, and it's hard to tell what's real and what's a lie. One of the stories is that he attacked Delores Umbridge! Remember that--?"

"Hag?" I supply, smirking. "Yes. Where's Potter now? How did he escape?"

"Not sure. I haven't found out yet. A handful of Gryffindors seem to know the truth, but they're not talking. Snape's got them in his office right now--Longbottom and his lot."

Meaning Potter's ex-girlfriend and Loony Lovegood. I'm about to ask Amos another series of questions when the door the door bangs open and Amycus stomps in, yelling at Daniel Max to sit up straight in the process. I turn to look at the Gryffindor and find myself staring at a glowering Beatrice Porter. She stares defiantly back, daring me to look away. Sneering, I turn back around and focus on Amycus's lecture.

Later, in the Common Room, I sit with Matthias, Audiurn, and Rosier. They, also, are talking about Potter's latest exploit.

"They're bound to catch him one of these days," Hadrian says, sounding rather hopeful. His thick eyebrows are drawn together in a sort of half-scowl. "I wonder if he can get it through that scarred head of his that he's going to get skilled when they do."

"I hope it happens sooner rather than later," Nathaniel mutters. "All he's doing is letting the Mudbloods think they've got a chance. Makes them harder to control."

Matthias smirks. "You're not a Death Eater yet, Nathan."

"Oh, and you are?" the other boy snaps.

Matthias shrugs. "I might as well be. My whole family is. Dad, granddad, aunt, uncles, you name it."

"We all might as well be!" Nathaniel retorts. "Once we're out of school, we'll have to join up either way."

Suddenly, I feel sick. "What?"

Hadrian laughs. "Surprise you, Oliver? I'd hope not, seeing as your family would expect you to join up anyway. Especially given your, ah, mother."

I grit my teeth. "My mum's dead, Rosier."

He smiles. "Do you know why?"

"She died when I was born." What is he talking about?

Hadrian laughs, a sharp bark of a laugh. "Whatever you say. I just thought that--"

"What?" I demand. "You thought what, exactly?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head, still grinning.

Suddenly feeling sick, I stand up. "I'm going to bed." Before any of them can say anything, I turn on my heel and make for the dormitory.

What does Hadrian know? My mother died in labor. He has no business bringing her up! I'm so busy seething that I crash into someone without even noticing them.

"Bloody hell!" a boy's voice grunts, and I find myself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. "Watch where you're--!"

"Malfoy," I say hastily. "Sorry, I just--"

"Oh," he says, his nearly colorless eyes focusing in on my face. "Flynn. Sorry."

Despite his faults, I know Draco to be nicer than he'd want anyone to think. I've known him since I was little enough to hero-worship the older boy. These days, however, his reputation tends to make him seem tougher than he really is.

"Care for a chat?" he asks dully, running a hand through his pale hair.

I'm about to decline when I realize that it's been ages since I talked to Draco. I can't even remember the last time I had a conversation with him.

"Sure," I say weakly, following him to the seventh year's dorm.

"You drink?" he asks, taking a bottle of something brown and unpleasant-looking from his trunk.

I shake my head. "You?"

He shrugs. "It helps." Gripping the neck of the bottle, he takes a swig.

I know better than to rely on booze to get through tough times. Matthias persuaded to let an older student let him try some last year, and he was sick for days. Plus, I've seen my father when he's drunk and it's not something that I wish to have happen to me.

"What did you want to talk about?" I ask awkwardly.

"Anything that doesn't involve politics, Potter, or Death Eaters," Draco replies. Automatically, my eyes flit to his left arm. The sleeve is rolled down, but I know that the Dark Mark is on his forearm. He's one of them. I wonder if he regrets it.

When I'm silent, he laughs. "Anything," he repeats. "Quidditch, Hogsmeade plans...girls...." He glances at me sidelong. "Given how red your face just turned, I suspect that the last option is preferrable."

I splutter incoherently. He laughs and takes another swig of whatever-crap-he's-putting-into-his-body.

"So who is it?"

"No one!" I protest, hoping he's not a Legilimens. He can't be a Legilimens, he's a seventh year....

He snorts. "I'm guessing it's that Hufflepuff girl, what's-her-name...Francesca, or something?"

The notion is so ridiculous that I choke out a laugh. "If you mean Francine Ebbs, it's not her."

"Ah." Draco lays down on his four-poster, stretching out and closing his eyes. "Thought it might be her. That's who most boys in your year like, correct?"

“Just like how everyone in your year likes Lavender Brown and Ginny Weasley, is that right?�

A sneer distorts his pale face. “Only if you like blood traitors who haven’t got a sense of decency…hanging around with Mudbloods and the like.�

I stare at him. Even after everything that’s happened, Draco can’t shake his bad habits. He sees the look on my face and frowns.

“You don’t like that stuff, do you, Oliver?�

I shake my head, embarrassed. “I don’t kn--“

“Neither do I.� Shaking his head, he takes another drink and closes up the bottle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.�

I doubt that he’s truly sorry, but I don’t mind. “It’s ok,� I mutter.

An awkward silence ensues. Then, “It’s Astoria Greengrass, isn’t it?�

“What?� My head snaps up. I get the feeling that he’s trying to maneuver back into comfortable conversation, but it isn’t working.

“I see the way you look at her. Everyone does.�

I stand there for a moment, unsure of what to say.

“You be careful, Flynn,� Draco drawls, smirking. “Astoria may not be as pretty as her sister, but if Daphne’s anything to go by….�

“Oh. I see.� I don't.

A few moments pass by, each of us staring at the other.

“You’d better get going then, huh?� Draco’s voice is cold, but his gray eyes are full of remorse.

“Yeah. Guess I should.�

Giving a weak wave of farewell, I turn and exit the dormitory.