The Mudblood

Chapter 63 : Year 4

I spent most of Sunday doing Arithmancy homework with Harper and Melody in the common room. While the assignment took Melody a total of ten minutes, Harper and I worked for hours to decipher the meaning behind these obscure Arithmantic symbols. Instead of helping us like any decent human being would, Melody simply sat at Harper's side, reading a book and occasionally snickering at our lack of comprehension. Because of the deal he'd made with Professor Vector, Draco Malfoy actually asked me if I wanted his assistance with the assignment, though I immediately declined his offer. I would not subject myself to his help, nor would I ever in any way admit that he was of higher intelligence than I.

On Monday morning, I was thoroughly exhausted from the weekend's endeavors, but instead of sleeping away the day or brooding over morose thoughts, I hopped out of bed and strutted to the Great Hall with a posture of poise. When I arrived, the other members of the Slytherin Six were already seated in our usual spot, but before I could get to them, Draco Malfoy reached his hand out and grabbed me, pulling me into the empty seat next to him.

"Gross, why is the Mudblood sitting with us?" Pansy questioned from where she sat on the right side of Malfoy. On the opposite side of the table sat Crabbe and Goyle, who barely seemed to notice my presence, and on the other side of me sat Blaise Zabini and the other fifth year Slytherins, all looking just as disgruntled as Pansy.

"None of your business, Pansy," Malfoy snapped at her before turning his attention back to me. A crooked smirk slid onto his lips as he surveyed me. "I hope you did well on that Arithmancy assignment. I'm sure you know that your success in that class directly effects mine."

"Really?" I questioned sarcastically. "Well, if that's the case, I'll be sure to bomb every—"

"Don't play games with me, Fitzroy," he barked, violently grabbing my upper arm. All of his friends turned to stare at him, so he quickly let go of me and looked down at his copy of the Daily Prophet, which was lying face-up on the table. "Did you hear about your good friend Dolores?"

My brow knitted in confusion. "What of her? Did they finally fire her?"

"No," Malfoy snorted amusedly as he picked up his copy of the paper. "Quite the opposite actually. If you look here, you'll see that Fudge has made her Hogwarts High Inquisitor."

My eyes went wide as I swiftly snatched the paper from his hands. Sure enough, the title on the front page read: Ministry Seeks Educational Reform: Dolores Umbridge Appointed First Ever "High Inquisitor."

"What the bloody hell is a High Inquisitor?" I spat, glaring down at the newspaper in disgust.
"If you could read, Mudblood—"

"Stop calling me that," I hissed.

"—you'd see that she'll be reforming this blasted school, evaluating all of the ruddy professors and undoing all of the rubbish that Dumbledore's inspired," he continued, ignoring my comment completely. "If we're lucky, maybe she'll overthrow Dumbledore completely—"

"You like this nefarious pile of dung? She's evil—you saw what she did to my hand," I injected lowly. Malfoy's pompous expression faltered for a brief moment. "She did the same thing to Harry, and I'm sure she'd do the same to you—"

"She won't ever get that chance, Fitzroy," he replied coolly. "I'm Prefect, and she knows my father. She wouldn't dare. Besides, I, unlike you, know when to keep my mouth shut. You and Potter were asking for it."

"You think I was asking to carve those words into my hand?" I hissed, my face wrought with disbelief. "She's abusive—just like you. S'pose that's why you two get on so well, aye? Seems you must be soulmates—"