malice. |harry potter|

2.2

"snape is going to end him."

♥

    Malice Fallon was overthinking things.

     If there was one thing the girl held at value, it was logic. Malice was nothing if not analytical, calculating, and for all intents and purposes, cruel.

     Not cruel in the stereotypical viewpoint, not cruel in that she took joy from the suffering of others. Cruel in the sense that the girl often wondered if she ever had any true emotions, or if everything was a fabrication of her subconscious mind, convincing her she was normal. Malice looked upon every situation, every problem, and used the every-running algorithm in her brain to create the best possible solution. For Malice, there was only science and logic and practicality.

     This had been her outlook on the vast majority of her life, and it worked, every time, unfailingly. Except for this. For this, she was completely and utterly stumped. She had guessed the entirety of the series of events during the quidditch match, right down to the location of Harry's injury. Clairvoyance was not common in the wizarding world, nor was it backed by any sort of tangible proof, meaning that Mali did not believe in it.

     But then again, her prediction was unmistakable, sudden, and so, so clear.

     Her friends had forgotten the strange moment, with the exception of Colletta, who never seemed to miss a thing.

     "I'm telling you, Lottie. It was some strange one-shot premonition. We're literally witches, I doubt this is something new."

     "Clairvoyants are very rare, Mali, even in our world."

"I'm no clairvoyant. Anyways, I mean it, there are more important things to worry about right now."

     "Like what?" Draco had plopped next to her in the couch, slinging his arm around her shoulders.

     "Like," Mali enunciated. "This bloody chamber shit."

     "Why does that matter?" Draco made a face.

     "It's attacking students! Colin Creevey's been petrified!"

     "It's only attacking mudbloods. None of us are a mudblood. Therefore, I'm not worried."

     Malice glared. "What?"

     "Granger's a muggle-born."

      "So? You hate Granger," Lottie pointed out.

     "Yeah, but she's Harry and Ron's best friend, and I'd hate to see how long they would stay alive without her."

The three laughed, before joined by Theo and Pansy. The latter clapped her hands together one, summoning the attention of the rest of her friends. "So?"

"So, what?" Mali asked.

Pansy rolled her eyes, as if it was obvious. "So, who do we think it is?"

Theo thought for a moment. "Potter? Whenever something happens, it's always him."

Draco scowled. "No way. He's too infatuated with mudbloods—"

"Draco," Mali hissed.

"—fine, muggleborns. Either way, it's not Potter."

"He's right. Harry loves Granger," Mali added. "But I'm sure this has something to do with him anyways. You're right Theo, it always does."