Little Bird

Chapter Two

Eve

            I kept my head down for the rest of the Sorting. Even though I knew everyone had probably already forgotten I'd been placed in Slytherin, I still felt like everyone's eyes were on me.

            My head was spinning while the first years were sorted into their Houses, wondering over and over what I had done to get me put in the Slytherin house. Sure, my parents had been loyal Death Eaters, but they died when I was two. My aunt and uncle were Gryffindors and they'd basically raised me all my life, so why the hell had the Sorting hat placed me in Slytherin? Something must have been wrong, maybe I could talk to McGonagall after and ask if I could try again—

            The whirlwind of thoughts was interrupted as the feast suddenly appeared before us, and for a moment I forgot all about being in Slytherin. Great piles of food had emerged from the tables, and I looked around in awe to see that the four oak tables were now completely covered with platters of food.

            I realized the Slytherins around me weren't fazed by the appearance of the feast, so I tried to wipe the expression off my face quickly.

            "Are you gonna eat?"

            I looked to my right and saw that the brown haired girl beside me was staring at me with a bitter smirk.

            "Well, are you?" she said, picking at her own salad. "Oh God, don't tell me you're one of those anorexic girls. I actually don't think I'll be able to put up with—"

            "I'm not anorexic," I interrupted quickly, my voice coming out much smaller than I'd intended. Ignoring the laugh she shared with the boy sitting across from us, I reached over and spooned some soup into a bowl—not that I would be able to eat it, with the way I was feeling right now.

            "So what's your name, anyway?" the girl asked, clearly just bored and looking for something to talk about. "I wasn't paying attention."

            I tried to hold my head high and make my voice sound casual as I replied, "Eve Hawkings. Who're you?"

            "Pansy Parkinson," she said loftily, poking her fork at the salad in front of her. She looked me up and down then, seeming to take in my appearance for the first time all night. Pansy's left eyebrow rose as she looked at me, saying critically, "You don't look like a Slytherin."

            I don't feel like one either.

            "You're right, she really doesn't," the boy sitting across from Pansy said. His pale eyes raked me over, his dark skin making the pigment of his irises glow eerily. "Why the hell did you have to get Sorted if you're a fifth year?"

            I opened my mouth to reply, but the cruel blonde boy sitting next to him cut me off. "Shut up, Blaise. No one cares where she came from."

            Fighting the heat that was rising to my cheeks, I put my spoon down harder than necessary. None of the Slytherins noticed my growing anger, and I glared heatedly at Draco Malfoy across the table. He wasn't even going to glance my way.

            "Christ, I was just asking," Blaise rolled his eyes, cutting into his steak. "I don't give a shit, but I was just asking."

            Pansy rested both elbows on the table, clearly done with her salad—which she'd barely even touched. She turned to me and demanded nastily, "Well, tell us. I'm bored, but what else is there to talk about?"

            "Maybe you should try not talking," I snapped without thinking, the anger flaring up hot.

            As Pansy's jaw dropped, there was a chorus of laughter and 'ooh's' from the fifth year boys, most of who I didn't even know. Blaise actually clapped, saying over the noise of the Great Hall, "Yeah, she's a Slytherin."

            The short burst of anger was over almost as quickly as it had come; I realized that if Pansy retaliated, I would automatically back down. But all she did was give me the fiercest glare before shifting her weight around, deliberately facing away from me.

            I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, just grateful that I would be left alone now. I didn't want to speak with these people if all they were going to do was talk down to me and act like I wasn't sitting right next to them. But I pushed my bowl of soup away from myself and looked up to see Blaise still watching me out of the corner of his eye. I pretended not to notice the way he was looking at me with a raised eyebrow and an intense stare.

            Instead, I looked past the people seated at the Slytherin table to see the other Houses' tables. I saw all the other students talking and laughing with one another and felt a terrible ache in my chest; why, why did the hat have to place me in Slytherin? I would have been happy in any other House.

            I realized Ginny Weasley was watching me carefully from across the Great Hall, and I just stopped myself from waving to her. She was regarding me almost suspiciously, whispering to the brown-haired boy beside her. My heart sank when I saw her expression, but it sunk even lower when I realized the boy was Harry Potter.

            Great, now 'the Boy Who Lived' thinks I'm evil.

            I started to get really sad then, and not just because Harry was watching me carefully from across the room. I thought I'd actually managed to make a friend on the first day, but now it looked like Ginny and I couldn't be friends. Because there was no way she was going to want to talk to me when I was in her rival house; my aunt had told me enough to know that Gryffindors and Slytherins never got along.

            But why should they? Everyone knew that Gryffindors were good and Slytherins were bad.

            And just like my parents, I was on the bad side.