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?â€
–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!â€
–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!â€
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.â€
–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!â€
–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?â€
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!â€
–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?â€
–Professor, why do I have Muggle Studies?â€
–Why did I have to drop Arithmancy?â€
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?â€
–I dunno, but all of us being left alone in a room with the Slytherins is making me nervous.â€
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!â€
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!â€
–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!â€
–Avery’s not that bad,†points out Erica. –He’s actually quite good looking.â€
–And he wouldn’t give a filthy little Gryffindor like you a single thought!â€
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?â€
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.