Catching Water (Discontinued, rewrite in progress)

Bedtime Stories

Bethany’s POV

                Salazar Slytherin keeps giving me weird looks, which I had anticipated. The fact that he would approach me after a Charms lesson was less expected.

                “Can I help you?” I ask.

                He does not reply immediately, fixing me with a cold, hard glare. “What is your blood status, Miss Rose?”

                I cower. “That is a rather personal question for me.” I reply, looking away.

                “And why do you refuse to give me such an answer?”

                It’s my turn to glare at him. “Because if I told you, the entire world would be in danger.”

                “And why is that?”

                “Because you’d be so shocked. You’d think we were your enemies, just like you prejudiced yourself from muggleborns.”

            I turn on my heal, but he grabs my wrist. “I believe you are disrespecting my authority.

            I seemed to have hit a nerve. I wasn’t the largest fan of Slytherin house, but I knew when I needed to be courteous. I take a deep breath.

            “Yes, I know my arrival was unexpected and going back a thousand years seems impossible, but I need you to be open.” I pause. “Which is definitely what the stories say you aren’t. Anyways, why do you hate them?” This had been a question on my mind for a while.

            “Hate whom?” Slytherin asks.

            I sink to the floor and prop my chin on my hands. “The muggleborns.”

            He looks like I’d just slapped him in the face.

            I nod at him. “I’ll tell you a story if you tell me yours.”

            Hesitantly, he sits next to me.

            “My parents were very kind people. Generous. They took in a muggleborn girl who was but six years old and treated her like a daughter just as equally as I was their son. Her parents had been horrified when they found out she was a witch and cast her out. They gave her five minutes to run before they called the witch hunters. I did my best to be a brother to her.

When we grew up and she moved out, she became more and more different, like something was influencing her. As time grew on, she became angry. She lashed out. And then, that day came. She found her original parents and used magic on them in plain sight. It was horrific to watch. And I had been there to see it. I couldn’t do anything. They would have known strait away what I was.

The muggles captured her, and were about to burn her. But as she was whimpering on the post, they told her that they’d let her go if she told them the names of any other sorcerers. And so she gave them ours. I’d gotten away just in time, but my parents weren’t so lucky. They died that night.

My sister, Wendelin, went away. I went the opposite. I wanted to be as far away from her as possible. Because she betrayed me. And since then, I’ve lost my respect toward muggleborns, who will turn against any family they have. It’s what I’ve told my sons, and that’s what my sons will tell their sons. I cannot have the Slytherin family be so tainted by such hatred.”

Salazar looks at his hands and is silent.

“It isn’t the fact that she was muggleborn.” I tell him. “It was her own choices. Her own motives. Some people are just so angry inside, and we’ll never know why.”

He looks at me.

“It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d been pureblood or half blood or muggleborn. It always ends the same when you’re steered in the wrong direction. Mainly it’s because you lose hope.”

“You sound like Godric.”

I laugh. “Why do you think I’m a Gryffindor?”

“That would be a good explanation. Didn’t you say you’d tell me a story in exchange?”

I think for a moment. “I did.”

I stare out the window before reaching under my collar, past ocean wave, to my camp necklace. I smile as I run my hand over the one bead with the trident on it, and then stop when I feel my uncle’s ring.

“We all have one of these. Not the wizard part of me. The other half. They symbolize how long we’ve known who we are. And how long we’ve lived.” I hold out the bead. “This is one year. When it all started for me. It started when I had to run...” I proceed to tell the story of Percy and I, being framed for stealing a lightning bolt, then returning it to its owner. I’d modified it, of course, so that I didn’t reveal anything. I actually think that I did a pretty good job.

“Anyways. Enough of bedtime stories!” I laugh. “I can see some of the stars out, and the others are probably wondering where you are.”

I turn to go into the common room.

“This was before you came to Hogwarts?” Slytherin asks.

I don’t turn around to face him, but I say “And before I knew I was a witch.”