The Mudblood

Chapter 72 : Year 4

The air in the Slytherin Quidditch locker room was nearly as cold as the air out on the pitch, but my skin was immune to its frigidity due to the elevated temperature of my angrily boiling blood. I violently slipped off the green, long-sleeved shirt of my Quidditch uniform and slammed it into my metal locker with a reverberating bang. Why did the Slytherins have to be so cruel as to mock Ron? Why did Crabbe have to be so brainlessly brutal as to hit Harry with a Bludger after the match had concluded? Why did Voldemort have to be so sadistic as to mindlessly murder my father?

As I removed all of the useless padding that I'd been required to wear for absolutely no reason and threw each one haphazardly into the hollow locker, I thought I heard the door open, but my enraged mind paid no attention to it until my joggers were hugging my trembling legs. The fury and grief of my father's death had managed to resurface due to the events of a Quidditch match, and the heartache had sent my body into an uncontrollable tremor.

"So, you change in front of all the boys, aye?" a voice sounded from the doorway to the stadium. I turned to my left to see that Brian Urquhart was leaning against Aaron Vaisey's locker, the only one in the entire locker room that was not bursting open with smelly garments. "It really is a shame I couldn't be a part of the team this year. S'pose I see why Montague finally let girls play."

My lip twitched with enmity as I snatched my jumper out of the locker. While the fact that a male was staring at me in only my sports bra would normally disquiet me, the volcano of ire erupting inside of me was enough to distract me from the embarrassment of this situation.

"Get out of here, Urquhart, before I hex you out of existence," I grumbled before yanking jumper over my head. "I'm not in the mood for your creepiness..."

"I think it's pretty clear what type of mood you're in," Urquhart continued smoothly. "Do you often beat up large, whale-like males?"

"If he's a blithering sleazeball, yeah," I snorted as I rummaged through my disorganized equipment for my wand.

"You started a real brawl out there, you know," he went on, his eyes studying me as I violently plowed through my belongings. "As soon as you started beating Crabbe, Potter and one of those Weasley twins started beating Malfoy. I think you inspired a war, Mudblood—"

I whipped my head toward him with narrowed eyes. "Harry beat up Malfoy? Why would he do that—I don't understand—"

Urquhart shrugged. "Heard Malfoy talking bad about those Weasleys or something, must have set Potter off—"

"No, no, it makes sense that Harry would want to clobber Malfoy, but I really meant was why would he do that without telling me? I could have helped! I'd like to pummel Malfoy just as much as I did Crabbe—"

Just as I said his name, Vincent Crabbe came slumping into the locker room, followed closely by a few of the other mopey Slytherin Quidditch boys. With a black eye and bloody nose, Crabbe avoided my gaze as he mumbled, "We have detention with Snape on Tuesday..."

I barley got a chance to process this before Adrian purposely slammed into me on his way to his locker. "Dirty Mudblood...Think you can beat up purebloods? I'd like to see you go up against all the purebloods in this room. Then who'd be all bloody, huh?"

"Shut up, Pucey, before I give you a black eye," I sneered after finally retrieving my wand. I aimed it at him, raising my eyebrows threateningly. "Or perhaps I should do something worse."

"Save it for later, Fitzroy," Bletchley called as he hauled Carl Vaisey into the locker room by his arms. Aaron Vaisey wasn't far behind, attempting to pick up his brothers feet as they dragged across the floor. "I'm sure Carl will want to see your attempt to overpower a pureblood as well. Should be quite entertaining."