"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!"