Voldemort has a daughter. Her name is Melody Prince, formally Melody Riddle, and she's nothing like Voldemort. She's kind, good, and hates to see anyone dying or injured; however, craziness apparently runs in the family, with Melody's hallucinations...
"You're Harry Potter, right? I've heard about you," I commented calmly, considering the circumstances.
Whatever, just because he was his enemy didn't mean he had to be mine. Everyone who believed that good would conquer evil was his enemy anyway, even those who had the wretched fortune of sharing his blood.
"Everyone has heard about me," Harry sighed.
"Bet it gets tiring, huh?" I asked sympathetically.
"Definitely."
"Well, well. Look what we have here. Potter, another Mudblood, and a Weasel," Draco sneered, interrupting us.
"Shut it, Malfoy," ordered the girl with the long bushy brown hair.
"No, why would I listen to a Mudblood? Why would anyone listen to a Mudblood for that matter?" he sneered.
After he called the girl a Mudblood for the second time, I came to my senses.
"Shush, snakey. I would listen to her. She's not a Mudblood, anyway. She may be Muggle-born, but I'm sure she's smarter than most if not all of the pure-bloods at Hogwarts!" I cut in, sticking up for her.
I knew that Mudblood was a dreadful term for people who were Muggle-born, as I heard him use it for every Muggle-born he came across. Hearing Draco use that term two times, and I bet he used it way more often than those two times, infuriated me. I had to cut in, I couldn't take it anymore.
"I doubt it," Draco sneered, "Mudbloods are way too stupid."
"Stay away from them, Malfoy," Harry shot.
"Yeah," Ron added, "And stay away from us too!"
Shooting a final glare at Draco, the four of us flounced out the compartment, our stuff not forgotten. I hadn't taken my bag off, sliding my sketchbook with the loose papers in it before quickly seizing my trunk at the last moment.
~ ~ ~ ~
After we left the compartment where Draco Malfoy was, we walked to another compartment, this time completely empty, and sat down.
"It's such a relief to get away from Malfoy," Harry sighed, really expressing his hate for Draco.
"I know!" I exclaimed.
"Let's not talk about Malfoy anymore. I'm Hermione Granger," the girl with the long bushy brown hair proposed.
"I'm Ronald Weasley, but you can call me Ron," the boy with the short red hair introduced himself.
"Me on the other hand, you already know," Harry said when the time came for him to introduce himself.
"I'm Melody Prince," I announced when they turned to me.
We spent the rest of the ride chatting and getting to know one another.
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"Anything from the trolley?" a woman shouted down the train aisle between compartments what seemed to be about halfway through the ride. I saw Ron scramble to get money out of his pockets and the woman, old and plumpish, approached our compartment.
"Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked us kindly as she stopped.
I shook my head wordlessly in response and although Hermione made no move to stand up, her face still covered by a copy of the Daily Prophet, Ron jumped up as he said what he wanted and Harry made his way to the door; however, Ron ended up only getting one thing instead of two due to what seemed like a money problem. Once the two settled back down, Harry empty-handed, the conversation struck up again.
"Did you hear what happened at the Quidditch World Cup, Melody?" Hermione asked.
"There's a Quidditch World Cup?" was my response, showing I had no idea.
Ron gasped. "How can you not know about the Quidditch World Cup? It's only the most important event of all time!" he scolded.
"It's obviously not, Ron, and it's not Melody's fault she didn't hear about it," Hermione rose to my defence, seeming curious herself despite what she said. "Anyway," she continued, "Basically, what happened was that death eaters attacked the World Cup and someone cast the dark mark into the sky. The fire was almost everywhere and destruction reigned. It was so chaotic!"
"What!" I exclaimed unbelievably. How could I not have known? "Wait, that means..."
"Voldemort is back," Harry finished for me, just tuning into the conversation then, as he seemed distracted earlier. A bad chill went down my spine at the carefree mention of his name.
"Well, You-Know-Who wasn't actually there. Just his followers and his mark," Hermione stated, being the accurate and smart girl she seemed to be.
I stayed quiet after that, berating myself for not knowing and even worse, not stopping it.
Harry shouldn't have used his name so light-heartedly. I thought. He has every right to be afraid, but even so, I can't help but admire him for his courage, as stupid as it may be.
"This is horrible," Hermione commented when I tuned back in, after glancing down at her newspaper again and back up. "How can the Ministry not know who conjured it? Wasn't there any security or...?" she trailed off, looking at Ron.
"Loads, according to Dad," Ron answered her with his mouth full. "That's what worried them so much. Happened right under their noses."
The conversations became lighter as the others seemed to sense my discomfort and so, the Golden Trio became the Golden Quartet. Harry, Ron, and Hermione welcomed me into their group with open arms and faces full of compassion.
