DARK HEARTS

Chapter Eight - Natasha.

(Lilia Le Fay)

“We won’t pay attention to him, Tasha.” Nadia said for the twentieth time as we climbed the stairs on our way to the defence against the dark arts classroom; worry not in her voice but instead holding a tone of obstinance and determination. And I, ever the sensitive, could see that these emotions, for once, were not a mask. She had not been unsettled by Snape’s words, nor made unsure by the biting remarks that had flowed from the mouth of our new nemesis. But of course, I had. Fear was eating away at me, buried beneath my skin. Fear and unsurety, triggered in my weak heart by Snape’s words. Because at that point I think I saw the truth, though I wouldn’t admit to it. That we were brainwashed young fools who didn’t know what we were doing. Fifteen year olds who didn’t know what true darkness was, let alone who they were yet.

One day in and I was already doubting myself. What was Hogwarts doing to me?

“No.” My voice was low and robotic as I answered her. “No, we won’t give in to him.”

But Nadia, strangely aware, noticed my tone and looked back at me sharply. “I won’t.” She answered after a pause, her voice the only sound other than the one caused by our footsteps on the stone stairs as we walked alone. “But what about you,Tasha?”

I was silent for a moment. I had seen my weakness and it fueled my passionate hate as I replied. “I hate him. I hate everyone. I hate this place.”

Unsurprisingly, Nadia sighed in relief. “Good. There we are.” She stopped and leaned against the wall, looking at me as I halted instinctually. But my mind was far away, concentrating on my hate and darkness rather than the doubt that had stemmed from Snape’s comments.

Nadia was not known for tact or compassion, but she was known for speaking her mind. However harsh her words were, whatever effect they might had. And that's what she did there. Speak her mind and give me strength. “Tasha, forget about your Aunt. Forget about your Mother. And forget about Snape. Concentrate on the mission. We are going to succeed, even if I have to put you under the imperius curse, even if you back out, even if we face even more problems, we’re not going to give up. I will make you, if I have to.”

I was silent, then decided to change the subject - or rather, cool myself down by venting a little more anger. “I wish I could crush him, though.”

Nadia wasn’t slow, she knew exactly who I was talking about. Probably because even though she didn't show it, the very same thought was going through her mind. And it was then she let loose, both of us leaving the subject of my momentary flip. “Yes.” Her voice was venomous. “Anyone would. Severus Snape is a slimy, slithering snake with a nose that is always in everyone’s business and a bitter spite that is all that represents him...I will-”

“Talking about professor Snape?” A voice cut in from behind. In our passionate conversation we had failed to hear Hermione Granger making her way up the stairs, footsteps echoing in a fast beat as she quickened her pace to appear beside me. Her expression was friendly but I became tense as she spoke. “I must admit, he’s not the best. If he’s been snidey with you it’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Yes.” Nadia answered before I could get a word in.  “Yes, we were talking about Professor Snape. But the case is now closed. Come on, Tasha.”

Nadia moved to continue walking up the stairs and I followed, in no mood for a conversation with Granger at that moment. But, seemingly eager to know more, Hermione bounded up to follow us, coming beside me again. I held back a sigh as she spoke and restrained from rolling my eyes only because of her possible involvement in our plan. Despite hating my Gryffindor housemates, I’d have to treat them right to be able to get close to Harry. Not that I had done very well so far.

“Are you guys from Norway or something then?” She asked politely, though her hunger for knowledge and what she was leading up to was obvious.

“Russia.” I answered shortly, not wishing to elaborate on it. I suppose she was curious about our lack of accent, but the truth is all witches of our kind, including those of other kinds of cults, are born with the first language of English but taught their native language. All cults speak in English, the language of our origin, but we are also taught in the language of the country we dwell in, if it makes sense. So Nadia and I do speak Russian, and English - though only with a slight accent due to our bilingual abilities.

“And you transferred from Durmstrang, I take it?” She queried, still pushing on.  Out of all my classmates she was the one I could bear the most, or so I had found so far - Hermione was annoying but clever and I always respected clever people. Still, her perseverance for conversation irritated me at that moment and I didn’t want to keep it up.  Hopefully my short and dampening answers and Nadia’s silence would drive her away. “I know someone who goes there who you might-”

“No, we didn’t go to Durmstrang.” Nadia’s cold voice made me jump as she cut across Hermione. I could tell why she was speaking that way, though I knew why her answer had been like that. Our cults were naturally snobbish of Durmstrang, who claimed to teach the dark arts, which was certainly not the case compared to the training we received. And of course, Nadia wasn’t going to let Hermione presume we were from what she thought of as a pretentious institution.

“Oh. Well - where did you go?” Hermione questioned, embarrassed and then curious.

“That’s none of your-”

“We were taught at home.” I butted in, halting Nadia’s biting reply. Because, unlike her, I knew that we couldn’t insult Hermione if we were going to get to know Harry.

Hermione opened her mouth again, ready to fire another question our way, but - knowing it would be about our made-up homeschooling - I spoke again before she could say anything. “So...where’s Harry and…” I paused as I realised that I’d forgotten the name of the ginger one who gawked at me. I mean, I had my own nickname for him, but since Hermione seemed to have a crush on him it seemed best not to use that title.

“Ron?” She queried as we reached the corridor at the top of the stairs that connected to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and turned to nod down the stairs. “Here they come now.”

I followed her gaze and saw Harry and Ron, in deep conversation, coming up the step, my throat constricting slightly as I set eyes on ‘the boy who lived’. Our victim.

I hadn’t had much of a chance to speak to Harry the night before - through for most of the feast I had been brooding over my fate after being placed in the wrong house, and deflecting both Ron and his sister’s questions and afterwards, heading to the Gryffindor common room. Harry had just argued with his classmates about the matter of his honesty and gone to bed. I hadn't really noticed what was going on around me, being too wrapped up in myself. So perhaps this was the time to make an effort. Only, I had no idea how to talk to this boy who I automatically saw as a tool to be used for myself and Nadia to gain glory and complete our mission. So I just stood there, looking away. Nervous, you could say.

Thank god for Hermione.

I never thought I’d ever think that to myself, but think that I did as she took an eager step forward and introduced me, my slight nerves falling away and causing a demeanor I had perfected to come through.

“Hey guys - I was just talking to Natasha and…” She paused momentarily to look at Nadia, squinting her eyes, but it was me who supplied the name.

“Nadia.”

“Yeah I was just talking to Natasha and Nadia here. They’re the Russian transfer students.” Ron and Harry reached the same level as us and I looked the boy up and down as Hermione went on. “Natasha, you already met them, I think - but guys, this is Nadia.”

All eyes turned to Nadia, who took on an unassuming air and nodded at them as if nothing was up, though I knew she was nervous inside too.

“You were on the train, weren’t you? You two?” Ron said, commenting in a way that would have offended other people but didn’t matter to us. Neither me nor Natasha cared if they had noticed us on the train despite having shared a carriage - plus it was our fault, anyway, for sitting in the corners shrouded in black and not making any effort to join in the conversation that had been going on.

“Yes.” I answered, seeing as Nadia was still playing her I-can’t-be-bothered-with-your-uninteresting-conversation role. “Yes, we met on the train. And, well - I’m in Gryffindor.”

“Well yeah, I know that.” Ronald blundered, clumsy with his speech and instead of seeming chilled went bright pink as I automatically raised an eyebrow at him. It was quite funny to me, though, his look that resulted from only a stare. However, it was after a minute pause that my heart quaked again as the boy who lived himself spoke and I knew I had to take action and find my character.

“So are you two sisters, then?” He enquired politely, looking from me to Nadia with only courtesy in his face. I opened my mouth to reply quickly but then all of a sudden Nadia was snapping. Nadia wasn’t quite following the plan.

“What makes you think that?”

Harry, slightly taken aback by her edgy tone, paused before responding with a  shrug. “I dunno - you look pretty similar.”

You couldn’t actually blame him, to be honest. Being the same type of witch, it was only natural we closely resembled each other, and we were the same age. There were differences, though; My long, black hair waved slightly and Nadia’s was thick and straight, a mane of midnight; her eyes were a dark, soulless colour that were like never ending tunnels whereas mine were a less intimidating grey, though still dark and flecked with none of the bright colours you usually see in a grey-eyed individual. My eyelashes were longer and eyes wider; her nose was straighter and finely chiselled. But, of course, we both had the same dark hair and ghostly white skin when it came down to it and we did seem similar, I suppose.

“We’re purebloods - somehow we’re related, so it’s inevitable we look similar.” I cover up, confused by Nadia’s hostility when it had been her plan to use the method of befriending Harry Potter in the first place.

“Purebloods?” Ronald cut in, eyes now more wary. It was only natural, of course - most pureblood families were thought of as evil, which they were - the Slytherin ones, anyway - and the trio seemed to know this.

Nadia nodded and again she answered bitingly, acid lacing her tone slightly. “Yes. What about it?”

“Nothing. Just explains why you’re in Slytherin.” Ronald tried to brush Nadia away and then failed, his last sentence being a subtle insult. She sent him a glare and immediately turned back to me, as if she could just leave a conversation at any minute. If it had been Ronald speaking to me then he'd have received an earful of my opinion and throwbacks, but Nadia was playing the cool act, and looked as if she didn't give a damn on what Ronald thought.

“Tasha, do we have that hugely irritating new teacher for this lesson?” Nadia questioned, now ignoring Harry, Hermione, and Ronald.

“Yes.” I answered before turning back to them - I didn't have time for Nadia’s conversation at that moment - Harry was more important and she was now the one neglecting the mission simply because she didn't like them. Not paying attention to her, I turned back to Harry. “So, what do you think of that Umbridge woman? She looks like a quite a hag to me.”

I watched as Harry and Hermione both exchanged glances, as if they knew more about the toad faced witch who would be taking the upcoming lesson. “Well…”

“Hem, hem.” The sound of someone clearing their throat in a high pitched voice and extremely irritating fashion made Harry, Hermione, Ronald and to some extent me and Nadia jump, and turn to see Umbridge herself standing at the doorway of the classroom, smiling a wide, sweet, smile with eyes that did not match the gesture. “Hello my dears-  would you like to come in and take a seat? I do believe you were meant to be here five minutes ago.”

I stare into the eyes of this detestable woman and bravely enter the classroom, the first to do so, and apparently the only one to catch the venomous look that Umbridge sends me as I pass. All of the Slytherins are already in there, except for Nadia - and I can see why she's pissed off. But we aren't five minutes late, not by my watch, anyway.

I take a seat at the back with Nadia, staring ahead and turning to my thoughts. Nadia wasn’t playing her cards right, the hypocrite. There was me, having to be all friendly and make up for her social mistakes with Harry Potter and his friends and she was just remaining hostile and unwilling. My anger rose even though I was meant to remain cool and I looked to her, scowling and opening my mouth to tell her exactly what I thought of her in an aggressive whisper, but before I could say anything, someone was tapping me sharply on the shoulder and I jumped and turned to see Professor Umbridge.

“Yes?” I snarled, the anger still in my system.

Umbridge’s eyes narrowed but she remained smiling slimily. “What’s your name again?”

“Natasha.” I answered warily, bite still in my tone as I frowned. “Natasha Grazinsky.”

“Well, Natasha, I’d like you to come and sit up at the front of the class, if you wouldn’t mind.” She said in honeyed, patronising tones.

I raised my eyebrow. “But - why?”

“Let’s say I just want to keep an eye on you.” She answered.

“Why? Are you under the impression I am aged five years old and will start doing impressions of you from the back row?” I flared up at her words. The anger was still affecting me and I was not aware of how you were supposed to treat Professors at Hogwarts - the priestesses who taught us were bowed down to and given great honours, but Umbridge was as far from resembling them as a toad was to an alligator and the courtesies they were treated with did not come to mind when I was speaking to her. “Why on earth do you need to ‘keep an eye on me’?”

There were automatic gasps and most of the students seated turned to survey the scene as Umbridge’s wide face turned red with anger and her eyes glittered angrily. Nadia beside me was looking surprised at my anger but seemed to have no problem with me unleashing it on the teacher.

“I am not going to give you a reason - when I say I want you to do something, you do it.” Umbridge answered after the pause, her smile returning and her voice dangerously sweet.

“Where's the logic in that? I don't get why I should move if you don't even give me a reason.” I retorted, still blazing. I let out a laugh as I registered how my words sounded.  “And there we have it - you've made me act like a child.”

“That's because you are a child, Natasha dear.” Her voice was still sweet - I didn't get this woman.

“If you're going to start patronising me, dear Professor, then stop there.” My voice was edgy and I wanted to curb her into a rage. “Compared to me, you know nothing.”

“Arrogance is distasteful, Natasha.” Her voice went quiet and I could see I nearly had her, the air still as the rest of the students watched the scene unfold. “Now, are you going to do what I tell you? Move to the front.”

I raised my eyebrow, sitting up straight and cocking my head to view her. “Is this your method of discipline? I do love to learn from teachers. Though compared to the ones I've had in my life, you seem like a desperate nanny.”

And I'd done it. Eyes blazing, Umbridge whipped out her wand. For a minute I nought she was actually going to do something, but she only pointed at me for a second and then turned to duct it to gesture at the front, where I was meant to be moving to. “Get to the front of the class, now. Swap places with Weasley. Any more out of you and you'll find yourself in detention.”

I was done with my anger, simply raising an eyebrow then looking at Nadia. She surprised me, though, smiling at me and nodding to the front. Ah. Swapping places with Weasley meant I'd be seated next to Potter. I sighed and grabbed my bag, once again annoyed that Nadia as encouraging me to socialise with the detestable boy but wasn't actually doing anything to help herself. Still, I got my satisfaction as her face flickered slightly with horror as she saw the Weasley boy heading her way. However, before Ronald could get there, a blonde boy in Slytherin robes had darted across the middle and taken the place and Ronald was forced to sit next to a distasteful thug who scowled threateningly at him as he sat down.

I looked at the space to next to Harry, the boy looking up for a split second before looking back down and staring ahead. Great. I'd forgotten he was nervous around girls, much like his friend. With a sigh, I sat down, thinking maybe if I said something he might acknowledge him. So, as Umbridge went through the class handing round textbooks, I spoke in a low voice, a little too close to his ear.

“Feeling reassured that the ministry have sent someone to watch over you?” I made my voice sound clever and nodded to Umbridge.

Harry looked at me, obviously already aware of the fact but denying it. “What makes you think she's here because of me?”

I laughed, though again the scorn was removed. “Haven't you been reading the papers recently? All the nonsense they put in there about you and Dumbledore?” I barely got out latter’s name but drove on despite my disgust at having to say it, turning back to my lol at the parchment I'd laid out. “It's clear they don't want to believe the truth about the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and that Umbridge is here to keep an eye on you and crush the believers.”

Harry remained silent as I began to write, but I could tell he was regarding me with thought. Obviously he was relatively surprised that I understood that much. He opened his mouth to comment but was forced to shut it when Umbridge appeared, handing us textbooks with a sickening smile before walking away.

"Now that that little episode is over - Good Afternoon!" Professor Umbridge came to the front of the class, clearly having regained her previous demeanour. Personally I sighed, knowing that the lesson to come would not be a peaceful or enjoyable one, but others in my class seemed to be objecting to Umbridge's method of discipline, and the reply to her supposed welcome message simply consisted of a few mumbles in reply.

"Tut, tut." She said, taking a step forward. Instinctively I leaned back in my seat in an attempt to get as far away from her as I could at that moment. "That won't do now, will it? I should like you to say, please, in reply "Good afternoon Professor Umbridge". One more time, please. Good afternoon, class."

"Good afternoon Professor Umbridge." The class chanted back at her - minus myself. If I had chanted back my greetings it would feel like I was honouring one of my teachers back at home, and, as I said, Umbridge was far from the dark priestesses who had taught me. I cocked my head again, looking at her and wondering if she knew how she came across. She must do. If she didn't... well, I felt sorry for her

."There, now." She said sweetly, beaming upon her class - most of which were looking at her emptily, probably due to the fact they were being treated like five year olds. My own face had lost its scowl and scorn because I had realised it made me look like a little kid, but now I wasn't even looking at her. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

I sighed and glanced at my Mahogany Wand, disappointed that I couldn’t use it. Not only had I not had much of a chance to do wand magic, it was also beautiful and hugely powerful; made from the wood of a tree that symbolises our darkness, shining dark black-purple in colour and holding within a core of pure dark magic - not unicorn hair, not dragon heartstring - a wisp of midnight that would stay burning within till the end of time. Fourteen and a half inches in length - quite long, as wands go - and very good for flourishing, showy magic. And the dark arts, of course. I wonder what Garrick Ollivander would have made of that.

I looked behind to see Nadia also surveying her wand glumly - hers the same as mine, only the wood was Ebony wood, the partnering tree to Mahogany and one of the two symbols of dark nature. Out of the two of us, I was the better at wand magic - I seemed to understand it more and she preferred her specialised magic, which she certainly excelled at, and practical subjects like potions. Both of us has very different abilities but can cover everything - that's the way we were taught. You had to be the best at everything.

"I said wands away, Miss Grazinsky." I looked up to see Umbridge's gleaming eyes upon me but didn't scowl as I whisked my wand out of sight, not wanting to look like an insolent child who didn't have a point to prove. Because I had a sneaking suspicion I'd come across like one.I pulled out my quill and parchment as Umbridge went forward and tapped on the blackboard that hung on the wall behind with her wand, words appearing a second later:

Defence Against the Dark Arts - A Return to Basic Principles

‘’Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn’t it?’’ Umbridge clasped her hands as she began, still smiling. ‘’The constant changing of teachers, many of whom don’t seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in you being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L.year.”

A few worried noises and irritated expressions from my classmates accompanied this comment but Umbridge ignored the reaction. ‘’You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, ministry approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please.’’Again she rapped on the blackboard with her wand and more words appeared, equally as biting as the title and the textbook, titled 'Course Aims'

.1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can be legally used.

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

There was silence as everyone began to copy it down of the blackboard, the only sound being that of quill pens scratching on the parchment. It seemed to be taking my classmates so long that I decided to copy mine down with unusual precision in my gothic calligraphy, pausing over the letters and taking great care over them whilst once again turning my mind to the plan. How on earth was I going to become friends with him if I hated him? Plus it was all up to me now, or so I concluded whilst whilst finishing the 'e' on 'recognise'. Nadia, I thought with slight scorn, wouldn't be able to convince the boy she's a pleasant person after that morning - she's never been able to be anyone but herself. Which meant it was up to me to work my way into the heart of the boy sitting next to me. 

In a way, Umbridge had improved my mood that morning. Instead of being stupid and pathetic like I had been after the Snape incident, the anger and spite Umbridge had brought out in me had brought back my darkness. Well, at least there was someone in Hogwarts who wouldn't weaken me. The others affected me too much. I'd have to be careful. Whatever happened, I had to stay like Nadia. I had to stay dark, I had to remain evil. 

I could hear Umbridge's voice as I laid my quill down and surveyed my notes, but my mind was elsewhere and I ignored it. Turning to look at Nadia, I concentrated hard, moving my hand to rest beneath the desk and create a small wisp of dark magic. At once Harry was affected, slumping shoulders and looking both confused and depressed, dark thoughts coming to his head. He turned to me with puzzlement, unheard as Umbridge said something about textbooks. 

"Can you - can you feel that?" He questioned with a creased brow. I shook my head, but I also gained a look of confusion and turned away quickly. Suddenly I had been affected by the look in his eyes - the pain. A flicker of pity had passed through my cold heart. Shaking my head, I turned back to look at Nadia, pleased to see I had got her attention. She met my eye and I nodded to Umbridge, to whom the class was chanting "yes" to, about the matter of the textbook. She looked at me and her disapproval was obvious - I shouldn't have attacked the teacher in that way. Of course. A temper was not dark, it was a liability. Just as I had feared. 

However, she'd also noticed how I had affected Harry, seeing his face and knowing exactly what I'd done. It was then that she surprised me and smiled. Good. At least I had pleased her in one way. Nadia seemed to be my lifeline at that moment. Without her, I couldn't remain strong. 

"I should like you to turn to page five and read "Chapter One, Basics for Beginners". There will be no need to talk."

Umbridge's voice reached my ears as I turned back to look ahead and I tried to turn my concentration to the class then, knowing I'd need to be able to keep up on the work in the class if I wanted to be a convincing student. Myself and Nadia would also have to take O.W.L.s for the sake of the mission, which was going to be a pain, but I might as well try to get good grades in them.

Five minutes in, however, I gave up. The textbook was hopelessly dull, going on about the theory of Defence and covering spells that were enormously simple and could be learnt in the blink of an eye. There was nothing about actual spell casting, though, just a load of rubbish on more 'theory' and safety procedures. I wanted to learn, but what was the point in this rubbish? Idly fiddling with my quill, I turned my mind to my classmates. A few days before - on the way to Kings Cross, she'd said that it'd be good to 'get to know' all our classmates, and somehow my mind was reminded of that moment when seeing Seamus Finnigan in the corner of my eye. Ignoring the textbook and simply staring at the page, I went through them in my mind.

There was Harry Potter, of course - and my opinion of him was very clear in my mind. He was an ignorant, egocentric boy who knew nothing but acted like he did and had caused the downfall of Lord Voldemort, which was enough to make me hate him entirely, despite not even knowing him. Plus he was mine and Nadia's victim. He was to be targeted and manipulated for us to 

 achieve honours and that was all. I did not feel anything for him. Or so I told myself. 

Ronald Weasley was irritating - the was nothing more to it. He was slow and stupid, and though relatively friendly, just kept gawping at me. I don't think he was used to having pretty girls ask him questions (upon arrival I tried to get close to Harry by asking him questions), so looked a little dazed most of the time. Then there was his sister, Ginevra, who hung around Harry a lot, though she wasn't actually in our year. She was clever, but I didn't like her. Something about her, the curiosity that she often displayed, made me feel like she was investigating me. But on the whole, I actually liked her - before Nadia had told me I was being weak and I had realised I was. 

Hermione Granger was clever, and I respected her because of this. Nadia would get me to use her, of course, I had already predicted that. But thinking about the idea of it, something squirmed inside me and I had to shake it away. I couldn't feel anything for these people. I had to be like Nadia.

There were more, though I had barely met them. A few stood out in my mind; Seamus Finnigan, who didn't agree with Harry Potter and whose accent was irritating; Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, who were silly, empty-headed girls who could not provide any intelligent conversation whatsoever; Neville Longbottom, who seemed stupid and clumsy but had a demeanour that had dared pull at my heartstrings at one point during my first evening. To be honest, though, I didn't like any of them. But I still had to pretend.

"Do you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" Umbridge's voice pulled me from my thoughts and I looked up to see her surveying Hermione Granger with her snake-like smile. Looking to Hermione, I saw the girl was staring straight at the detestable Professor with her hand held in the air and her expression resolute. 

"Not about the chapter, no." Hermione answered. I resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow and looked to see how Umbridge was reacting. 

"Well, we're reading just now." She didn't smile - just subtly bared her teeth as she spoke. "If you have any other queries we can deal with them at the end of the class.

"I've got a query about your course aims." Hermione went on. Forgetting myself, I admired her daring. I was just being insolent when challenging her earlier, whereas now Hermione seemed to be trying to get across the point that she wasn't teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts how it was meant to be taught.

"And your name is?" Umbridge questioned, raising her eyebrows.

"Hermione Granger."

"Well, Miss Granger, I think my course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully.'" Umbridge answered sweetly with an obvious undertone of determination. 

"Well, I don't." Hermione's voice was blunt and I leant forward, curious to see what she was leading to. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

This comment made me look back to the course aims and realise she was right before turning back to Umbridge accusingly. I was just about to open my mouth to speak when I heard a cough from behind and turned to see Nadia shaking her head. Turning back round, I shut my mouth and didn't say anything. Of course - I was meant to stay cool and calm like Nadia. I blushed inadvertently, thinking of my defiance with Umbridge earlier and felt stupid. It was a good thing I had her to keep me in check. I seemed to have been extremely foolish recently.

"Using defensive spells?" Umbridge was saying, laughing incredulously. My eyes went back to her. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attack during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" It was Ronald Weasley, eyes accusing as he looked at Professor Umbridge with one eyebrow raised.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr -" Umbridge regarded him with a glint in her eye that suggested dislike.

"Weasley." Ronald thrust his hand into the air with defiance.

Beside me, Harry raised his hand, then Hermione as Umbridge turned her back on Ron. I automatically looked at Harry but Umbridge chose to question Hermione.

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes," Hermione said resolutely. "Surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practise defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" Once again, Umbridge's voice was falsely sweet with a dangerous undertone.

"No, but -"

"Well then, I'm a afraid you are not qualified to decide what the "whole point" of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way-"

"What use is that?" Harry made me jump as he spoke loudly from beside me. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be in a-"

"Hand, Mr Potter!" Umbridge sang breathlessly, eyes glittering. 

Harry thrust his hand up again and I focused on him. I felt like I didn't exist, merely a spectator, but I was itching to speak - as were several other people, the number of raised hands in the class having increased.

"And your name is?" Umbridge had focused on a classmate of mine whose name I didn't know either.

"Dean Thomas." The boy answered. 

"Well, Mr Thomas?" Umbridge enquired lightly.

"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" Dean Thomas said, glancing at Harry. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free."

"I repeat," Umbridge smiled, at her most irritating, "Do you expect to be attacked in my classes?"

"No, but -" 

"I do not wish to criticise the way things have been run in this school," Umbridge talked over him and wore an unconvincing smile as she made this comment. "But you have been exposed to some very  irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed - not to mention" she laughed nastily, "Extremely dangerous half-breeds."

"If you mean Professor Lupin," Dean Thomas piped up again, speaking a name that chilled me slightly. Remus Lupin. Someone who Harry was apparently in contact with who was bound to know what we were. Unlike with Severus Snape, we had been warned of Remus Lupin, just in case he showed up. I regarded the matter for a second as Dean Thomas continued. ", he was the best we ever-"

"Hand, Mr Thomas!" Umbridge sang once more before continuing. "As I was saying - you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group and potentially lethal spells.You have been frightened into thinking that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day-"

"No we haven't." Hermione entered the fray once more. "We just -"

"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!" Umbridge almost shrieked. I clenched my fists as she did so, her  voice irritated me beyond words. All these lies, the way she delivered them, was driving me into a temper. But I couldn't take part. I had to stay cool. I had to.

Hermione thrust her hand up but Umbridge ignored her, continuing after exhaling. "It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you."

I knew exactly who she was talking about - Barty Crouch Junior. The Dark Lord had told Madame Elena of this and, in turn, she had informed myself and Nadia of the events that had taken place the previous year involving the Death Eater. I still remembered how Nadia marvelled at his skill and dedication to the Dark Lord and how I followed suit.

"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" Dean Thomas said hotly. "Mind you, we learned loads."

"Your hand is not up, Mr Thomas!" Umbridge insisted upon trilling. I gritted my teeth, watching the battle unfold and trying to restrain myself from remarking as she became more and more detestable. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about." She said sickeningly. No, I thought, school is about learning, or so I was told - and learning is broadening your mind, increasing your intelligence. Therefore, reading through your textbook certainly isn't learning. 

‘’And you name is?’’ I turned to see Umbridge focusing on Parvati Patil from my house.

‘’Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses and things?'

Ah yes. That was definitely a point. I suppose it hadn’t come to my head because I wouldn’t really have to worry about the practical - I was far ahead on the spellcasting side of things. Still, the statement would cause an uproar, I predicted, as Students realised just what Professor Umbridge was planning.

'As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions,' Professor Umbridge answered dismissively. Forgetting myself, anger flooded in. She was meant to be helping these students and she wasn’t even going to let them cast magic to practise and learn it? I didn’t count myself as one of them. But somehow I let myself feel sorry for them.

'Without ever practising them beforehand?' said Parvati incredulously. I wouldn’t admit but I agreed with her. 'Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?'

'I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough -' Umbridge stated again.

'And what good's theory going to be in the real world?' said Harry loudly, his hand raised again. I looked to him and desperately tried not to let myself agree with him. This debate, or rather, ‘attack’ had pulled me into the scene so much I was only just restraining myself from taking part. If there was one thing I couldn’t resist, it was expressing my opinions.

Professor Umbridge looked up, eyes narrow but voice soft as she answered. ‘This is school, Mr Potter, not the real world,' she said softly.

'So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting for us out there?' My heart quaked as Harry spoke these words. I knew exactly what it was going to lead to.

‘There is nothing waiting out there, Mr Potter.' Umbridge said calmly, eyes glittering. Oh of course, not.

'I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough -' Umbridge stated again.

'And what good's theory going to be in the real world?' said Harry loudly, his hand raised again. I looked to him and desperately tried not to let myself agree with him. This debate, or rather, ‘attack’ had pulled me into the scene so much I was only just restraining myself from taking part. If there was one thing I couldn’t resist, it was expressing my opinions.

Professor Umbridge looked up, eyes narrow but voice soft as she answered. ‘This is school, Mr Potter, not the real world.'

'So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting for us out there?' My heart quaked as Harry spoke these words. I knew exactly what it was going to lead to.

‘There is nothing waiting out there, Mr Potter.' Umbridge said calmly, eyes glittering now. Nothing out there? My anger was coming through now. Did this foolish woman know nothing of the world? Lord Voldemort was out there, Lord Voldemort was conducting Dark Attacks, Lord Voldemort was sending us to Hogwarts. How could she not believe it was true?

'Oh, yeah?' said Harry. His temper seemed to be coming through now.

'Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?' Professor Umbridge enquired in a honeyed voice that was sickening. Now I was getting angry - really angry. It was as if the fear, unsurity and annoyance I had experienced that morning was now bubbling up inside me, ready to blow. How dare this woman be so purposefully ignorant? How dare she ignore the darkness that was out there, how dare she ignore the rising forces of evil that she should be joining. My thoughts had become ludicrous and wild in a matter of seconds.

'Hmm, let's think…'  Harry was saying in a mock thoughtful voice. 'Maybe…''

''Lord Voldemort.'' We spoke at the same time, but my voice was serious, grey eyes solemn, despite the fact I was burning inside. The words had slipped out of my mouth without realising and I knew I had to back down. But I couldn't. All that self-discipline I had been taught through the years was  forgotten, useless. I was my own worst enemy and by speaking then I had entered a battle which could destroy everything. But I had to keep going.

Harry's face was encouraging. He looked at me with both surprise and confusion but the fact I had got this reaction from him made it impossible to back down.

‘So you're a part in this ludicrousy as well, Miss Grazinsky?'' Umbridge was speaking and I jerked my head to look at her. She paused, and then proclaimed; ''Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter. And you, Miss Grazinsky.'

The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry - or me. I knew Nadia's eyes would be upon me as well - and I knew what her face would be like. Still as a stone, expressionless. Yet she'd shake her head and beneath would be burning with anger for me. Angry at my failure to keep control, knowing that Nadia would reprimand me for this with malicious and biting words, I became even more worked up. However, there was no time to speak, as Umbridge spoke again.

'Now, let me make a few things quite plain.'

She stood up and leaned towards the class, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk and clutching the side.

'You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead -'

'He wasn't dead.'' I speak coldly, cutting across Harry and staring at her with hard eyes. ''He was never dead. But now, he's returned. He has a body. He is going to be even more powerful than ever.'' Because I've seen what he can do, I add in my mind.

''And how do you know that, dear?'' Umbridge turns to me with beady eyes filled with patronisation. ''Have you been listening to Mr Potter's stories?''

''They're not stories!'' Harry almost yelled from beside me. ''Why would I invent a tale of how one of the most powerful wizards, a wizard who is powerful beyond words and would kill you in the blink of an eye, killed Cedric Diggory?''

'Mr-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-house-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself,' said Umbridge in one breath. She had chosen to ignore me again. 'As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie.'

'It is NOT a lie!' cried  Harry. 'I saw him, I fought him!'

Umbridge opened her mouth but I cut her off. ''A lie.'' I said in a cool, low voice. Everyone's eyes seem to be on me at that moment but my attention was only focused on Umbridge. ''You think someone would lie about the Dark Lord returning to our world to hunt us down and rule us all? Is it a thing to be taken lightly?''

There was silence as Umbridge viewed me with venom, eye twitching as if she were restraining herself. Then suddenly she snapped out of it and spoke loudly and with menacing pleasure.

'Detention, Miss Grazinsky! And you, Mr Potter!' There was the first hint of a real smile in her eyes as she looked from Me to Harry. ‘Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office.'' She then turned back to the class, speaking filthy words that infuriated me. '' I  repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, “Basics for Beginners”.'

I watched as she sat down calmly, realising my statement was going to be completely ignored. I opened my mouth to speak just as Harry did, both of us ignoring the two voices trying desperately to call us back.

'Harry, no!' Hermione whispered urgently to him as he stood up.

'''Tasha, sit down now! Think of what you're doing for god's sake!'' Nadia's voice came after Hermione's and I was still listening, but I payed no attention to her words. I was too far in now to go out.

'So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?' Harry questioned boldly, his voice shaking.

There was a collective intake of breath from the class and even I was taken aback. None of the people in that room, apart from Ron and Hermione, I guessed had ever heard Harry talk about what had happened on the night Cedric Diggory had died - and neither did I know the whole story.

'Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident.' Umbridge's face was completely lacking in fake smile for once, her voice cold as she stared at Harry.

'Cedric Diggory was murdered.' My voice is too quiet, too genuine. I remember now, the way the Dark Lord has described the scene to Nadia and I, the way he had relished in telling us of how he watched Potter cry over Cedric's body. Suddenly I feel sick - suddenly my head clears and I feel the most relieved I had all day. He had hardly spoken to anyone about this, least of all thirty eagerly listening classmates.

''Yes.'' Harry drove his point home, savage as he faced Umbridge. ''Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort and you know it.''

Professor Umbridge's face was quite blank as she viewed Harry, me apparently forgotten. To her, and the rest of the class, I believe, I was simply a strange, random girl who had decided to support Harry in a brainwashed kind of way. But boy was I far from that.

For a moment, I thought she was going to scream at him. Then she said, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, 'Come here, Mr Potter, dear.'

Harry kicked his chair aside, striding up to Umbridge's desk. I could feel the rest of the class holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next. But I don't think anyone knew. Certainly not me.

''You can punish people all you like, Professor Umbridge.'' My voice is clear and rings across the empty classroom, the words at first simply caused by my tongue running away with me and then actually thought out as I said them and realised I cared. This woman had to know the Dark Lord was back. I worshipped him - I blessed the very ground he walked upon - and I was stupid. Brainwashed. I thought everyone should treat him as my cult did, as an honour of the darkness and a martyr of pain and suffering. But that wasn't just why my words were so genuine.

''It won't help.'' I continued, looking up at her. ''It won't help denying it, or trying to forget it. You think you are untouchable, but you are wrong. One day, he will come for you. He will come for all of us. He will destroy everything. You won’t exist, but I will still be there to tell your corpse 'I told you so'.''

''You insolent child!'' Suddenly Umbridge's face was red and she was advancing as I was rising from my chair, Harry looking at me with yet more surprise and, astonishingly, admiration.

There's silence as Umbridge menacingly advances, stopping right in front of me and whipping out two sheets of parchment. Scribbling on them with the quill pen that also appeared, she seemed to take only ten seconds writing a message that I could tell was bad news. Still looking at me as she turned her attention of the parchment, she barked.

''Mr Potter? Come here immediately!''

Harry stepped slowly towards her and passed the reddening Umbridge to stand beside me and face her. Without a word, Umbridge handed both myself and Harry one of the pieces of parchment each, gently placing it in our hands and composing herself as she did so.

Take those  Professor McGonagall, dears,' Her voice was calmer now, though her eyes glittered feverishly. ''And never spread your propaganda in my classroom again.''

Without a word, Harry stared at her for a split second then moved away. However, my look was for Nadia as I headed for the door, though I soon regretted the glance her direction. Nadia's face was unusually full of expression - and expression of a raging anger I had rarely seen in her before.

*  *  *  *

I wasn't nervous of Umbridge as I waited outside the door of her office, awaiting Harry's arrival. Oh no. But I was still nervous.

After the Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, Nadia had been furious. I had been reprimanded and insulted, shamed and scorned - and made to promise that I would never lose control of myself again. Because apparently that's what I'd done.

Although disappointed and disgusted at my  idiocy, however, Nadia had bent the events in such a way that there was a large chance we could benefit from it. In the course of the dreaded detentions, I would be spending a fair bit of time with Harry, and there was a chance we could bond because of it - or rather I could pretend to bond with him despite apparently hating and detesting him.

And so as he came round the corner, striding purposefully with his head down, though he looked up at me as he neared the door and at once I became naturally shy, which improved my act.

''Were you...waiting for me?'' He questioned, making me feel slightly stupid.

''Well can you imagine spending ten minutes alone within Professor Umbridge?'' I tried to act clever and it seemed to work. ''The thought of it was so unbearable I had to linger outside.''

He gave a sort of amused sniff and turned to look at the door. ''Well,'' He said with humour as he reached for the handle, ''Here goes.''

My first impression of Umbridge's office is that it made me want to vomit. Here was me, used to dark caves and midnight retreats, loving the inky black that came with the shadows and tending to reside in ornate places that echoed wealth and class, and I was going to be forced to reside in a room that could easily have been from one of my nightmares for over an hour that evening. The surfaces of all the cabinets in the room had been draped with bits of brocade and lace and other floaty, irritating material. There were flowers everywhere; large vases perched in several places in the room, each with it’s own doily placed carefully beneath it. And the the most disgusting feature of all - the large collection of plates on one wall, each with a fluffy kitten staring from it and mewing, eyes mean and offputting. There was an outbreak of meowing from the sickening creatures when Harry and I entered, but they were silenced by Umbridge as she placed her teacup down on the saucer she was holding with an air of precision, then held up one hand as if to signal to stop. She then advanced with a menacing air, smiling and walking with her hands clasped.

‘’Good evening, Mr Potter, Miss Grazinksy.’’ I turned my head away from looking at the kittens and had to restrain my automatic reaction of gagging as I saw the flowery robes she wore that looked like they had been made from a pair of one hundred year old curtains.

‘’Evening, Professor Umbridge.’’

I looked up as Harry said this stiffly and realised I was meant to great her as well. Not thinking straight due to the cloying perfume that was condensed within the room and the lurid pink surroundings, I instead spoke in my native language.

‘’Dobryy Vetcher.’’ My accent, strange and rolling,made Umbridge raise her eyebrow, causing me to realise my language change and explain. ‘’Good Evening, Professor Umbridge.’’

Umbridge looked at me suspiciously. ‘’Grazinsky, I would prefer it if you spoke English whilst you are in my presence.’’

I nodded but refused to answer, still inspecting the sickening surroundings, and she turned to address both of us. ‘’Well, sit down.’’

I looked back to her and saw her gesturing to a small table draped in lace around which two straight-backed chairs were drawn up, two pieces of parchment also awaiting myself and Harry. However, before I could approach it, Harry was speaking.

‘’Er - Professor Umbridge - er - before we start, I - I wanted to ask you a...a favour.’’

Umbridge’s eyes narrowed. ‘’Oh yes?’’

Harry shifted slightly and resisted the urge to raise my eyebrow, intrigued by what Umbridge could possibly do to help him out.

‘’Well, I’m...I’m in the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And I was supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper at Five o’clock on Friday and I was - was wondering whether I could skip detention that night and do it - do it another night...instead.’’

I cringed on Harry’s behalf, knowing that he hadn’t said it the right way and Umbridge would say. However, seeing it as an opportunity, I leapt in before Umbridge could say anything. I could tell I was being viewed as simply a bystander, which mean I had to try and take part and support Harry, even if he wasn’t going to acknowledge me.

‘’He could come and do it on Saturday.’’ I suggested, as if I was in on it.

Umbridge looked from me to him and smiled widely. ‘’Oh, no,’’ She looked even more like a toad than ever, ‘’Oh, no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, Mr Potter, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty one’s convenience. And neither will you get out of this, Miss Grazinsky, in case you think there is something in it for you.’’ On the last sentence, she turned her head to look at me in an unsettling manner. ‘’Both of you will come here at five o’clock tomorrow and the next day, and on Friday too, and you will do your detentions as planned. Both of you will miss out on things you wish to do for your insolent and nasty behaviour, which should reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you.’’

I automatically flare up at this, but like Harry beside me, restrained myself. Pulling my bag off my shoulder, I strode over to the chair that awaited me at the table, carefully pushed the flower-patterned cushion that was edge with lace off the seat and sat down, Harry following suit. Umbridge narrowed her eyes for a second but ignored my defiance and addressed both of us with patronisation and another dose of her sickening smile.

‘’There,’’ She said, clasping her hands and looking infuriatingly pleased, ‘’We’re getting better at controlling our tempers already, aren’t we?’’

‘’Are we supposed to be writing lines?’’ I interrupted her, not able to take any more of the patronisation.

‘’Yes,’’ Her smile remained planted on her toad-like face, ‘’I want you to write ‘I must not tell lies’. You will not be needing your own quill.’’ She added as I took mine in hand. I raised an eyebrow, but she advanced before any comment could be made and produced two quills from the pocket of her robe, holding them out for Harry and I to each take one. ‘’You will be using two rather special ones of my own. Go on, take them.’’

I took the long-black quill she offered me with a slight shrug to myself, then held it to the parchment as Harry questioned Umbridge as politely as he could bear.

‘’How many times are we meant to write it?’’

‘’Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in.’’ Umbridge replied sweetly as I looked up and raised my eyebrow. Her answer was far from reassuring. ‘’Of you go.’’

‘’What about ink?’’ I questioned as she turned, seeing Harry realise it was missing.

‘’Oh, you won’t need any ink.’’ She said with a laugh, getting up. ‘’Now, if you will excuse me for a second, I have to go and fetch something. You can start.’’

I watched her go automatically, observing the way she walked due to my Nadia-approved observation skills but was pulled back round to look at Harry as he let out of  gasp of pain at the time time as she shut the door.

‘’What is it?’’ I questioned, actually concerned.

‘’I - it’s nothing.’’ He hesitated, then exhaling. I raised my eyebrow but didn’t pursue it and moved to begin writing.

I must not-

My quill paused as I realised what Harry’s gasp of pain had been for. The black ink that had formed the first words of ‘I must not tell lies’ was coming from my own bloodstream, the words also appearing on the back of my hand in shining black. However, a second later, it healed over, leaving the skin smooth but simply a little redder than it had been before. I looked up at Harry’s parchment and saw the writing was shining red - his blood. Mine was black but the same thing - produced from my body and painful as it was used as ink. I almost gagged as I realised what Umbridge’s suspicious words had meant and that she knew what the quills would do. Leaning back, I put down my quill on the parchment, Harry looking up as I did so.

‘’What - what is it?’’

I looked at him. ‘’This is disgusting.’’ I nod to his writing. ‘’Your ink is your blood as well, isn’t it.’’

He looked to mine, which had now thankfully turned the colour of normal blood. The blood of Hours witches was naturally black to signify their darkness, but turned red a few moments after it is exposed to air.

‘’Yes.’’ He admitted, before looking at me. ‘’You’re right, it is disgusting.’’

I looked at my quill and picked it up, finishing off my words and beginning a new line. At once the words ‘I must not tell lies’ appeared in my skin, black for a second and then shining red. Harry watched as this happened but didn’t see the colour change.

‘’It hurts, doesn’t it.’’ Harry said, nodding to my hand where the letters were disappearing.

‘’It’s opening up your hand, of course it’s hurting.’’ I said, though the statement had no bite in it. I looked to the door with contempt. ‘’That Hag.’’

Harry was silent, opening his mouth but then closing it and simply nodding before turning back to his lines, wincing as the writing appeared on his hand once more. Accepting his silence, I focused on mine once more, trying to ignore the pain and concentrate more on my handwriting to give me something to do. However, after a long pause in which only the scratching of mine and Harry’s quills and the sound of both of u trying to stop ourselves gasping at the pain, Harry spoke in a subtle voice to me, my heart leaping as I saw the opportunity for conversation.

‘’Grazinsky...I’m just curious - why did you speak like that in class and land yourself in detention for - for supporting me?’’

‘’It’s Natasha.’’ I said, looking up. ‘’And I made my statements because Umbridge was being purposefully ignorant of something everyone should believe - for their own good.’’

Harry paused. ‘’You believe me?’’

‘’Yes.’’ I nodded. My words were honest, in a way. ‘’I believe the Dark Lord is going to return, if he’s not stopped. I believe many people will die if we attempt to defeat him, but more will die if he gains power. I believe you saw him last year and that he murdered Cedric Diggory’ I looked at him. ‘’Yes, I believe you.’’

‘’Well, that’s relieving.’’ He let out a bitter laugh.

‘’In what way?’’ I questioned, raising my eyebrow.

Harry looked at me. ‘’Plenty of people don’t believe me and think I’m mad. But it’s comforting to know someone who has barely even met me sees the truth.’’

I sniffed with scorn. Somehow I’m acting a lot more naturally than planned. ‘’Those who don’t believe you are either scared, foolish or mad. I see Umbridge as someone feeling all three.’’

A hint of a smile snuck onto his face and he paused. ‘’I don’t think we were really introduced - I’m Harry, presumed maniac and seeker on our house team.’’

I liked his way of introduction and smiled naturally, forgetting my planned demeanour. ‘’I’m Natasha, ‘insolent child’, according to Umbridge, and other than that, no one in particular.’’

He grinned, lightening up a bit. ‘’What makes you think you’re ‘no one in particular’?’’

I shrugged. ‘’I’m new here and keep myself to myself.’’

‘’Well I’m afraid that ‘keeping yourself to yourself’ may be a little hard with my friend Hermione around.’’ He says with humour. ‘’She’s already looking into Russian Magic and will try and badger you about your background.’’

A flicker of panic runs through me as I hear this but I force it away. It’s nothing to worry about - Nadia’s very good at putting off nosey people.

‘’So you and the other girl you were with are sisters?’’ He questions, making the same mistake as earlier.

‘’No - me and Nadia are just close friends.’’ I answer with a quick smile. ‘’Talking of friends, I take it Ronald and Hermione are your best friends?’’

Harry nodded and smiled. ‘’Yeah.’’ He paused. ‘’You know - you’re welcome to come and join us in the common room when you need something to do or something.’’

My heart leapt but I was also touched by his invitation. ‘’Thanks. I usually hang around with Nadia but I’ll hold you to that offer some time.’’

He hesitated, then admitted what he was thinking and inadvertently showed his point clearly. ‘’Well - not to be rude -but you may have a bit of trouble with being friends with her - she seems to have taken Draco Malfoy on as a companion as well.’’

I creased my brow. The second name I’ve heard somewhere but I’m not sure who he’s on about. ‘’Who’s Draco Malfoy?’’

‘’A slimy, pro-Slytherin little bugger.’’ Replied Harry, as if discussing his nemesis - which seems the case. ‘’He won’t be nice to you, I can tell you that - and he’ll most likely try to corrupt your friend.’’

No one could corrupt Nadia, that was for sure, but I could see what he was getting at. ‘’Well I’ll watch out, then.’’ Was my answer as I turned to smile at Harry. ‘’I take it you don’t like this Malfoy boy?’’

‘’Definitely not.’’ Harry said with a bitter laugh. ‘’He’s an immature, arrogant bully - not to mention his father was a servant of Lord Voldemort.’’

Ah. Malfoy. As in Lucius Malfoy. Draco must be his son, I thought. ‘’What - Lucius Malfoy?’’

‘’Is Draco’s father.’’ Harry answers, confirming my suspicions. ‘’He’s even worse than Draco.’’ He looked at me. ‘’Which is why I’m saying it might be good to try and stay away from him.’’

I nodded, actually taking his words to mind. I was acting far too naturally. ‘’I will.’’

He smiled and opened his mouse to speak but suddenly the unmistakable sound of footsteps was heard and we both snapped back into gear and grabbed out quills, beginning to write as Umbridge reentered. I wrote feverishly as she approached, trying not to look up as she bent over to look at mine and Harry’s lines.

‘’Tut, tut.’’ Was her comment. ‘’We must work faster otherwise we’ll be here all night.’’ She withdrew and smiled. ‘’Chop, chop.’’

It was unusually reassuring that Harry and I exchanged glances before resuming.

‘’Tasha!’’ Someone called from behind, breaking the conversation I had been having with Hermione on Russian Magic. I turned to see Nadia, the only person it could be, and smiled, wishing to show her my success.

‘’Hallo Nadia - I was just-’’

‘’Talking with these imbeciles, yes.’’ She snapped, putting anger onto Harry, Hermione and Ronald’s faces - and also mine. Why was she being so rude?

‘’Nadia-’’ I said, about to reprimand her.

‘’I have to talk to you. Come.’’ She spoke over me, not caring abotu what I had to say. I grew angry then - I wanted to speak to her about the plan but not until she actually inforced some manners when around the people we were meant to be befriending and stopped being a hypocrite and leaving me to all the work.

‘’Nadia, I’m talking to Hermione right now. I’ll see you later.’’ I stated resolutely.

She looked at me, eyes showing her anger but body language much the same as it always is. Typical Nadia. ‘’I said I needed to talk to you. Come.’’

‘’Well you can wait.’’ I turned my back on her with anger.

Something was up with her, I could see it as she looked at me with wildness in her eyes that was not usually see. ‘’Alright. I’ll let you remain with these imbeciles. Go ahead and  exchange pointless conversation and talk away about yourself to your new friends like a stupid muggle. My god, I knew it was bad you ending Gryffindor, but I never thought it’d brainwash you.’’

My eyes glittered angrily, but I was feeling shame at the reminder of my fate. Previously we had been a balanced pair, but Nadia had had to take charge when my confidence and character had become unstable, and now she had power over me. And so I did not answer, simply staring ahead as she waited. I wasn’t going to speak, but I wasn’t going with her.

She waited a few seconds, Ronald, Harry and Hermione all glaring at her, before she scoffed bitterly, tossed her head and walked away. She may have not got me to come with her, but she had placed guilt, worry and shame in my heart.

Chapter Nine - Nadia

(Grace Waterson)

“Have you forgotten what you came here to do?” I hissed, glaring at Natasha darkly for a few moments before snatching up my Slytherin scarf from my chair and striding out of the library where we had been sitting, whipping the scarf around my neck as I did so. I strode confidently through the halls - despite the fact that I had no idea where I was going - and it took every ounce of my internal strength to not let my anger make my dark magic run wild. I wasn’t completely successful - a group of five or six Hufflepuff 1st years definitely found themselves caught up in my “misery cloud”, as Natasha called it, but my mind was too focused elsewhere to really notice how their bubbly smiles turned almost immediately to dark eyed stares.

I found myself walking down to the Entrance Hall, and then out through the front doors of the castle. It was a clear day; the sky was blue and cloudless, and a light wind blew against my face as I stepped outside. Why did the weather have to be so… happy? I’d have much prefered grey sky and looming clouds, mist and fog and hailstones.

I walked across the grass towards the Quidditch pitch, shooting glares at the few people I saw studying outside, or going for walks. They all looked so cheerful I wanted to cringe. When I reached the pitch, I noticed that the Gryffindor team seemed to be having a training session of some sort. I spotted Potter on his fancy broom, showing off like usual, and the Weasley boy and his two older brothers, their hair all the same shade of horrendous carrot-orange.

I’d decided a few days previously that I’d have a go at trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch team. I mean, it would give me something else to do beyond sitting around in the library with Natasha, and I have always wanted to fly. We don’t really have broomsticks, or any other method of flying, back at home, but I’d heard about them in the stories that the adults told us all when we were kids. I’d even smuggled a broomstick out of the stores late at night on my third night at Hogwarts, and spent the whole night practicing flying. Under my invisibility cloak, of course - Madame Elena made sure that Natasha and I both brought invisibility cloaks along, to help us in our mission. And I’d discovered that flying wasn’t too difficult - I got the hang of it pretty early on.

As I watched the Weasley boy pathetically drop the ball he was carrying, I laughed and made my way over to the stands to sit and watch. I doubted I would learn anything from their abysmal playing, but at least it would be funny, I decided. As I neared the stands, I noticed a bunch of people in green robes like mine watching the Gryffindor practice too, shouting insults and jeering at the players as they flew around. I identified Draco immediately in the bunch, sitting next to the soppy Parkinson girl who was practically drooling over him. Around them sat Crabbe and Goyle, and a bunch of other Slytherins who I’d vaguely seen hanging around the common room but wouldn’t be able to name.

I climbed up into the stands and sat a little way away from them, but close enough to hear the things they said. None of them noticed me appearing, something I was quite happy with, and I settled down to watch the practice.

The Gryffindor team were… decent. Well, excluding the Weasley boy. I had no idea how he made it onto the team - he was awful. He was always in the wrong place at the wrong time, fumbling the ball, dropping the ball and missing some very easy saves. The Gryffindor captain looked pretty pissed off with him by the end, and I wasn’t surprised. In fact, they had to finish early because the Weasley boy managed to hit one of their Chasers in the face with a ball and she got a nosebleed which wouldn’t stop, so she had to be taken to the Hospital Wing.

Once they’d left, I hung back in the stands for a bit as I didn’t want to go back up to the castle where I could bump into Natasha. Eventually, however, I gave in and decided to walk back to the common room. I was just walking across the grass when Potter came out of the changing rooms. He spotted me and shot me a dark glare, striding straight over me.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” He shouted angrily, and I was slightly taken aback, although I didn’t show it.

“I’m not sure I quite know what you mean.” I replied calmly, which just made him more angry - something pretty funny to watch.

“You! Out there! Watching the training!”

“I had a right to be there. There’s nothing saying I’m not allowed to go there.” I said, smirking. “Besides, I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Yes you were!” He retorted. “You shouted insults, distracted us, laughed at Ron!”

“Actually, I did none of that. I was just watching. Why don’t you go and pick your fight with Draco - he was the one shouting at you.”

“You’re lying!” He shouted, clenching his fists. He took a breath, and his voice dropped menacingly low. “There’s something wrong with you, Volkov. Something fishy. What’s your secret? What’s your little plan?”

“My plan? Perhaps I should ask the same of you.” I spat back.

“What have I done?” He asked childishly.

“What do you mean - what have you done? You’re messing with Natasha, that’s what. You’re manipulating her, changing her. You think I haven’t noticed all the time you spend together in the evenings, healing each other?”

“I’m helping her.” He replied. “You’re the one who’s been manipulating her. I’m showing her that there are other people in this world, people who aren’t clearly up to something, like you.”

“You know what, Potter?” I sneer, “People make you out to be such a hero. But you’re really not. You’re an arrogant, egoistical kid who thinks he’s so superior and that he can go pushing his nose where it doesn’t belong, trying to play the saviour. You need to realise that you’re not.”

Harry stares back at me, his mouth agape at my blunt - but true - comment. And, after sending a small wave of misery his way as my farewell gift, I storm off back to the Slytherin Common Room.