Trapped

Chapter 8

"Harry Potter!" shouted Draco. "Harry fucking Potter!"

"This is unbelievable. I've never heard anything more stupid than that daft son of a bitch being chosen as champion," said Pansy loudly as we all entered the common room.

Nobody was more angry than the Slytherins after Potter was chosen as champion.

"How do you think he got around it? The age limit, I mean?" I asked no one in particular. Theo just shrugged his shoulders – he was oddly quiet for the whole night after Potter's name was called.

"Probably had Dumbledore put it in. That git was always given special treatment," said Blaise calm, but with a bit of anger behind his voice. 

No one would say it, but anyone in Slytherin could pick up why were were so mad. Obviously, no other house would understand, but we all knew. Being champion for this tournament, for any of us, would mean approval from our parents. Being able to finally bring something to the table. Prove to them what we're worth. But of course, as always, it went to parentless Harry Potter. Who was he even trying to win for, anyways?

"He gets everything, it's funny at this point. Four years we've dealt with him, and every year he manages to make it about himself. It truly is a talent if you ask me," said Draco bitterly. No one could disagree and no one could ague. No one wanted to.

"I never, for once, thought I'd be team Diggory," said Theo.

"Speaking of," said Pansy. She had smiled for the first time that night. "What if we did something . . . against . . . Potter. Say, 'Team Diggory' and 'Fuck Potter' without getting expelled."

"Like badges?" asked Daphnee from the couch.

"Exactly like badges," said Pansy with a frightening smile. I agreed that we should stand for Diggory and not Potter, but going to the length of wearing a badge? That almost felt a bit unnecessary, but any sort of doubt was washed away every time I was reminded of what he took from us.

Our first encounter with Potter was at our Care for Magical creatures class, where almost all the Slytherins had been waiting when the Gryffindors arrived. We all knew it would be a fun class, as we all recognized that Potter had been avoiding everyone all day. So, when he finally walked out to Hagrid's hut alone, we took our opportunity and ran with it.

"Ah, look guys, it's the champion," said Draco loudly as soon as Potter had gotten within earshot. I turned around and saw him approaching in an uncomfortable manner: shoulders hunched, head down, arms in pockets, and avoiding eye contact. How perfect. 

"Got your autograph books?" I said as he walked closer. "Better get a signature now, guys, because I doubt he'll be around much longer . . . Half the Triwizard champions died . . . how long do you expect to last, Potter? My bet is ten minutes into the first task." The smirk on my face made him roll his eyes. "You know, Potter, my father disagrees. He thinks you won't last five." 

The Slytherins howled with laughter behind me. Potter turned around quickly and charged up to me. I didn't move.

He stopped inches from my face. "I don't give a damn what your father thinks, Rhowen. He's a low life piece of shit, and you're just pathetic!" he said quickly.

"Don't be calling me pathetic when you can't perform any spells during the task," I said calmly, quiet enough for only him and the few around me to hear. "Do you even know what you're preparing for? Or how to prepare?"

He held my gaze with a contorted face. "I'll be perfectly fine, thank you," he snarled. I smirked as he walked past me, hitting my shoulder with his on his way out.