The Mudblood

Chapter 39 : Year 3

Once the excitement of the Goblet of Fire concluded, the fact that I'd pranked the Slytherins with toffees was brought to the forefront of their minds.

The morning after the four champions had been selected, I walked groggily out into the common room to find that a large horde of angry Slytherins were waiting for me with rotten tomatoes in their hands.

My eyes went wide as I slowly began to back into the hallway, but before I could turn to dart away, I bumped into someone.

"Think you're going somewhere, Mudblood?" Malfoy sneered, raising his eyebrows at me.

I opened my mouth to yell at him, but before I could, Pansy Parkinson weakly threw a tomato at me. My jaw dropped as it hit the back side of my jeans, and I slowly turned to look at her and her flared, piggish nose.

"That's what you get for making my nose huge!" she shrilled hotly.

"Technically I didn't make your nose big—those toffees only make your nose big when you lie—"

"I never lie!" she screamed defensively.

"That's a lie," Daphne said flatly before chucking another tomato at me, this one hitting my sweater and oozing down my torso.

I turned around, hoping to run back to my room, but Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy were blocking the hall.

"It's what you get, Mudblood," Crabbe grunted as he crushed a tomato on top of my head. Malfoy let out a howling laugh as the rest of the Slytherins began to pelt me with the tomatoes.

"Why are you throwing tomatoes at me?" I demanded incredulously. "You're all wizards, what happened to magic?"

"You aren't worthy of our magic, Mudblood trash!" Carl Vaisey sneered before throwing a tomato at my arm.

After that, I dodged a few, but every one that didn't hit me, Malfoy would pick up and squish in my face. Even though I knew the Slytherins were attacking me with mal-intent, I actually found myself laughing. I soon began to pick up the tomatoes before Malfoy and chuck them back at the Slytherins. Many of the girls ran at this, and I almost thought Malfoy was going to punch me when I squished one in his face.

Prefect Adrian made me clean up the entire thing, of course, but I didn't argue. The pelting was well-deserved, and I actually felt good about it; reactions of anger meant that my prank had been a success. Fred and George would be so proud...but then...I was mad at Fred...

When I finally made my way up to the Great Hall for breakfast, I found Harry lurking in the shadows of the entrance hall.

"Harry," I greeted softly as I approached him. He almost jumped at the sight of me. "Er—are you okay?"

He sighed, glancing over at the Great Hall. "I'm trying to—er—avoid large crowds. Most people aren't too happy with me, you can assume."

I bit my lip, looking down uncomfortably. "Ron seemed...irked."

"Yeah, he won't talk to me," Harry replied bitterly. "And Fred and George seem to think you knew I'd get picked...?"

"Oh—um—" I scratched the back of my head. "Well, I knew there'd be a fourth champion, but I didn't know it'd be you. I—I didn't put your name in or anything, I swear. I just—er—can predict the future...sometimes..."

He raised his eyebrows, seeming unconvinced. "Trelawney didn't try to convince you that you're a Seer, did she?"

"Oh—no. I mean—I think she thinks I am, but I don't think I am. It's—confusing. Just trust me; I know things that I shouldn't," I blabbered, feeling utterly foolish. Being psychic didn't seem to be particularly normal in the wizarding world, and I didn't like the feeling of alienation that came with it.