29 Mudblood

Arth made his way out of the library and towards the great hall. There, he saw Hermione eating a simple salad. He walked up and sat right next to her.

"How is today going?" Asked Arth causally, grabbing a banana from a plate.

"Same as usual, are you going to go down and watch Harry's quidditch practice?"

"Um... I don't think I was going to. Why?"

"If you want, do you want to go with me to cheer Harry on? Ron's joining me and... you know what I mean."

As if summoned, Ron stumbled into the great hall looking a bit... unintelligent. His head was disheveled and he yawned in a dumb manner.

Arthur sighed.

I'm sorry my friend, but with the way you behave, I wonder if you can ever get a wife...

Ron stumbled over like the clueless sheep he was and sat down right next to Arth.

"So... how are you Arth?"

"Ok."

"And you Hermione?"

"I'm doing fine, thank you."

"So... are you coming with us to watch Harry's game? Hermione is coming."

Seeing the pitiful face of Hermione, Arth could help but give in.

"...Fine."

Instantly, Hermione's expression brightened while Ron gave a thumbs up.

"Okay, let's head down after I finish this. Man I'm starving."

After they three of them had finished eating, they went down to the quidditch field, where they saw the Gryffindor quidditch team comping out from the lockers.

The sun was up completely now and remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. The air was damp and cool, a weather that was great for reading.

Seeing that Harry was glumly walking towards their way, Ron raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't you finished yet?" called Ron incredulously.

"Haven't even started," said Harry, looking jealously at the toast and marmalade they had brought out some of the Great Hall.

"Wood's been teaching us new moves."

"What kind of "teaching moves" takes two hours?" Frowned Arthur.

"The wood kind."

Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked at the ground, soaring up into the air. Hermione watched this with a somewhat amazed gaze.

"He really is a good flier isn't he?"

"Yep, he definitely is," answered Ron. "Although, I think Arth would do fine too."

Arth shook his head.

"Nah, I don't like being in the center of attention."

((AUTHOR: *COUGH* don't point me out on this))

They were about to focus back onto Harry when they heard the sound of a camera clicking furiously to their left.

Ron groaned while Arth gave a weak smile.

"Hi Colin."

"Arth! Look what I've got here! I've had the photo developed, I wanted to show it to you, you know, because you took it and all."

Colin handed over the stone I tire that Arth had took, Harry smiled weakly back at him from the photo while Colin Creevey was jumping around in an excited manner.

"Harry must be brilliant. He was the youngest House player in a hundred years- did you know that? I've never flown. Do you reckon it's easy? I've asked Harry all these questions but he seemed to be to preoccupied to answer..."

"Well, Harry is indeed a brilliant seeker," said Arth with a warm smile. "And flying... flying is easy for some and difficult for others. You'll understand when you have your first flying lessons from Madam Hooch."

Visibly excited, Colin began to take pictures of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

In fact, Colin took so much photos that the team started to notice him.

"What's that funny clicking noise?" called Fred as they made their way down to the grass.

"Look this way, Harry! This way!" Colin cried shrilly.

"Colin, shhh, your being a distraction."

"Who's that Arth?" said Fred from across the field.

"Its a Gryffindor, don't worry," yelled Arth with a tired look.

"What's going on?" said Wood, frowning, as he skimmed through the air toward them. "Why's that first year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."

"He's in Gryffindor, Arthur confirmed it for us. Plus the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," said George.

"What makes you say that?" said Wood testily.

"Because they're here in person," said George, pointing.

Arth frowned after hearing the words of George and turned to look at where he was pointing.

Several people in green robes were walking onto the field, Sleek black broomsticks in their hands.

"I don't believe it!" Wood hissed in outrage. "I booked the field for today! We'll see about this!"

Wood shot toward the Slytherins in a furious manner with the Gryffindor Quidditch Team in tow.

"...we should go to," said Hermione before dashing off towards Harry. Ron and Arth followed.

"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker'. "

"You've got a new Seeker?" said Wood, distracted. "Where?"

And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps" — he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives —" sweeps the board with them."

None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?" He was looking at Malfoy.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

There was an instant uproar.

Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!" and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoys face.

However, the older Slytherins got to him first.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out and hit Ron in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Hermione.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.

The Slytherin team were paralyzed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging onto his new broomstick for support. Malfoy was on all fours, banging the ground with his fist. The Gryffindors were gathered around Ron, who kept belching large, glistening slugs.

Everyone let out an involuntary shiver. They felt as though the whole world seemed to regress back into the ice age.

When they tried to identify the source, they were surprised to find that it came from a black haired boy right next to them.

Silence ensued as Arth sent waves of icy wrath towards a pale Draco. His eyes changed from their original brilliant night sky to an endless dark abyss. Everyone felt themselves shrinking back a bit.

Arth snarled at Draco.

"Apologize."

"W-What?"

"Apologize."

Draco let out a laugh that couldn't hide his fear.

"Why would I ever Apologize to that blood traitor and that filthy mudblood-"

Arthur snapped.