Draco Malfoy's Perspective

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

All was well.

Violet Ramsey trotted along in the carriage that drew itself along the winding path to Hogwarts, ready for her fifth year. Crazy things had been happening, first with the strange Professor Quirrell and Harry Potter, then the Chamber of Secrets and Harry Potter, and then Sirius Black was after Harry Potter (and they got a great professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts, but he turned out to be a werewolf), and then the Beauxbatons and Durmstrangs came and Cedric Diggory died, and now Harry Potter was claiming that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back and the Minister of Magic was adamantly denying it.

When the tall castle came into sight, Violet wasn't awed by it as usual. She didn't feel like her beauty might be rivalled by the majesty of it. She was thinking about You-Know-Who. Her parents were rumoured to have been Death Eaters way back when who denounced him before his fall. She didn't believe them.

But what if Harry Potter was right? He seemed to be very sure, and he didn't strike her as crazy. She rapped her fingers on her lap, staring out the window with a solemn look on her face. So much had happened already that she was nearly overcome, and she hadn't even been a part of it.

"Vi," said a fellow Gryffindor by the name of Hermione Granger. Usually Hermione sat with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, but today she had decided against it. Violet didn't care to know why, so didn't ask.

"Yes?" Violet turned. Hermione was by no means the prettiest girl she had ever seen, but she was not ugly. However, Violet couldn't help but feel superior around the girl who was not only much less pretty, but also a Muggleborn to Violet's Pureblooded family. She didn't let this show though. She prided herself on not being one of the Purebloods who hated Muggleborns.

"You seem out of it. What's wrong?"

"I was thinking about Harry Potter. Do you believe his story? Do you believe You-Know-Who is back?" Violet's unusual dark purple eyes (for which she received her name) bored into Hermione's.

Hermione nodded. "Harry wouldn't lie about something so important."

"That's just what I was thinking." Violet turned back to the window, flicking her raven black hair over her shoulder. "Of course I also considered the option that he went mad in the maze, but that didn't exactly pan out. He's had a quiet summer. I haven't heard anything from him in the Prophet."

"I think that's a good thing. The reporters over there are none too honest. Rita Skeeter for example—" Violet tuned out. She didn't care what Hermione thought of the reporters for the Prophet.

The carriages came to a stop and Violet allowed Dean Thomas to help her down. He had fancied her until he and Ginny Weasley grew close, but he still retained his chivalrous ways toward her. She admired him for that.

"Thank you, Dean." She walked inside the castle and sat at the Gryffindor table, smoothing her skirt as her stomach grumbled. Anxiously awaiting the feast, Violet thought the Sorting took twice as long as usual.

Finally, after the last student's name was called, the Sorting Hat was picked up and Dumbledore began to stand, but the Sorting Hat spoke. "Ramsey, Violet."

Everyone froze. Never before had the Sorting Hat called a name. And certainly not a fifth year's name! Professor McGonagall looked at Violet and nodded, and the girl rose, quite startled, but holding together. She did not appear shaken as she walked the silent rows of tables and climbed the stairs before sitting on the stool, which was much shorter than she, being provided for first years.

"I have made no mistake," the Sorting Hat began. "However, in all my time Sorting for the four houses–Hufflepuff, the kind; Ravenclaw, the wise; Slytherin, the cunning; Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart–I have never been confronted with such a unique child. Violet Ramsey had much to learn when she came here. No more than others from books, but more in person. She needed to learn two things, two very different things, to become the woman she so desperately will need to be. First! She needed to learn the value of true friendship and loyalty! This is why she was in Gryffindor. But now, she must learn another, equally as important. And so, for the first time, I re-sort. SLYTHERIN!"

Violet stood as Professor McGonagall lifted the hat off her head. She curtsied to the professor. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall. You were a very good Head of House."

She walked down the stairs and turned to the Slytherin table, searching for a seat. A new place had appeared right next to Draco Malfoy. She pursed her lips and slipped into the seat gracefully. If ever she could do anything right, she prayed now she would get him to leave her alone without making an enemy of him.

The silence that had befallen the Great Hall remained as Dumbledore stood; he smiled at Violet. "Slytherin receives more than they bargained for this year, but it shall come around for the best. Now, let's eat!"

Violet pulled one delectable chicken breast and several helpings of vegetables onto her plate. "Health freak?" sneered Draco. "Great."

"I am not a freak in any sense," Violet replied calmly. "I simply enjoy vegetables–like your friends enjoy cake." They both looked across at Crabbe and Goyle, who were stuffing their faces–but as dessert hadn't appeared, it was real food.

"Fair enough. What's your blood status?" Several people leaned in; they knew she had a quiet way of speaking, not loud and obnoxious like other Gryffindors.

She felt her face heat in anger. Why did it matter what her blood status was? "Muggleborn," she answered defiantly. "And if you have any problem with that, I can show you that just because I'm Muggleborn doesn't mean I can't do what you can." Her eyes challenged him.

He scooted away from her. "Ugh. Mudblood."

Whispered sneers of "Mudblood" traveled up and down the table, followed by short cackles. Violet took a deep breath, stabbing her chicken. If they would treat her like an inferior, then she didn't want anything to do with them at all.

Draco finally went back to eating, completely ignoring Violet but for glancing at her. She seemed entirely unaffected by their taunts. He frowned. Well, Muggleborns didn't know how insulting it was to be called a Mudblood anyway.

However repulsed by her blood he was, he couldn't deny that she was beautiful. Her enjoyment of vegetables had kept her from gaining much body fat, although she was not as skinny as the girls who starved themselves. He admired that. Her pale face was long and slender, though not sharp, and her large eyes were the strangest (yet most intriguing) colour he had ever seen. Her pin-straight long black hair looked like silk when it moved.

If only she wasn't a Muggleborn. He couldn't stand the sight of her.