Merely Misunderstood

Chapter Seventeen

I sat in the same compartment as Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Mirah (Mirah's friends, apparently, had suddenly decided to ignore her over the summer for hanging out with me) on the way to Hogwarts.

They told me all about the excitement of the World Cup, and how they hardly remembered much from the game itself, since the camping grounds had been attacked by Death Eaters after the game had finished with the Irish winning, even though the Bulgarians had caught the snitch — it went just as Fred and George had predicted.

We laughed and ate treats from the trolley the whole way there (we teased Harry for practically drooling when he saw Cho Chang getting pumpkin pasties from the trolley).

It was more fun than I'd had all summer, and I couldn't express how happy I was to be going back home.

Harry wrote a quick letter to Sirius Black, who we'd discovered was his godfather last year and that Sirius was, in fact, not a murderer; he'd been trying to kill Peter Pettigrew, who had been an animagus disguised as the Weasley's pet rat Scabbers for the past twelve years.

And of course, Draco had to pop by to poke fun at Harry, and I wasn't surprised to see Crabbe and Goyle with him.

When he saw me, he sneered in a way I had almost forgotten.

"What, the Slytherins aren't good enough for you, Locust?" he asked, his eyes moving to Mirah, who sat beside me. "And of course Holland would follow you; she's like your personal bodyguard, isn't she?"

"You're one to talk, Malfoy," Harry spat, glaring daggers, and Malfoy snickered.

"Yeah, well, unlike Locust here, I haven't turned my entire house against me."

Mirah jumped up, her hands balled into fists, and Ron started shouting profanities, but I could only stare at Draco, my heart sinking into my stomach.

What had caused the sudden change in attitude? Why was he suddenly acting so mean? I thought he knew I hated that nickname; I thought he was done calling me that. I could feel my hands begin to shake with both pain and anger.

Draco read my hurt expression and his sneer wavered, but before I could see what had broken into his expression, someone at the end of the hall shouted, "You'd better clear off, Malfoy, before we hex you for existing!" and another shout followed; "And once we're done with that, we'll hex you for existing at the same time as us!"

Malfoy glared at the twins as they neared, and then he turned and hurried away, Crabbe and Goyle following like lost puppies.

"We didn't need your help," Ron muttered, his face still red with anger.

"We didn't do it for you," Fred said, glancing at me with a soft smile.

"Besides, the git had it coming," George added, shrugging.

"One day he'll get what he really deserves, though," Fred muttered, glaring down the hall at Malfoy's retreating figure.

"Yeah, and when he does, let's hope Hell is ready for him," George said darkly, and Hermione gasped, hurling a book at him. George dodged it, laughing, and they both left our compartment, having spotted Lee Jordan down the train.

I was suddenly aware of everyone's eyes on me; they found it suspicious that I hadn't said a word during that whole fiasco. But I only continued to stare at the sliding door of the compartment, deeply offended and utterly confused.

No one said anything to me; they started up a falsely casual conversation, each of them glancing at me with concern while they tried to keep the conversation light.