After the feast, the students were led to their separate houses by the prefects. The Slytherin prefect Vito Malaghieri, a smoothly handsome but cold-mannered seventh-year, told them the password, showed them the sleeping arrangements, and then left the first-years to their own devices. This suited Kodachi quite well, since she wanted to scout the "lay of the land" as soon as possible. She was used to knowing every nook and cranny of her home territory by heart, in case... well, just in case.
However, as she wandered though one of the corridors, memorizing the interconnections of the halls and rooms, she suddenly found her way blocked by two large third-years, cracking their knuckles. They seemed vaguely familiar, but Kodachi couldn't place their dull, forgettable faces at first.
"Hey there, girlie," the larger of the two drawled. "We've bin lookin' for you..."
"Yeah," said the shorter, pudgier one. "You said some stuff you shouldn've said. So we're gonna teach ya that Draco Malfoy don't like being called... uh... that stuff."
"A petulant child with no concept of nobility or honour?" Kodachi asked bemusedly. She remembered the two now. They were called Crabbe and Goyle - the henchmen of that low-browed blonde oaf Draco.
"Exactly. And you better learn yer lesson well," said the taller one. Was it Crabbe? Goyle? Kodachi wondered whether anyone but them and Draco knew which was which. Looking at the keen intellect so notably absent from their eyes, she briefly wondered whether they knew. But then the discussion became too physical to linger on such idle speculation.
With anyone else Kodachi might have been in trouble. As a first-year student of magic, before even the first lesson and with no prior experience in thaumaturgy at all, she would have been practically defenceless before a magical attack from an average third-year. Luckily Crabbe and Goyle ranked decidedly below average in magical matters and consequently preferred a more physical style.
They weren't squibs - the magical power was there, all right. However, their considerable lack of interest or talent for cerebral study hampered their progress so far that they rested comfortably in a place on the grade curve that was otherwise only known to one Neville Longbottom - and at least Neville often knew what to do in theory, even if he never quite managed to do it right in practice.
Draco's henchmen were quite used to short fights. True to the nature of a bully, they only attacked those who were significantly weaker, too intimidated by Draco's influence to fight back, or both. Thus the length of the altercation certainly fit into the pattern they knew. The actual outcome, however didn't.
To the best of their knowledge, none of their fights had ever ended with them being suspended upside-down over the deep, deep stairwell, hanging from the precariously swaying chandelier by their own tangled robes. They weren't quite clear about the sequence of events that had led to this predicament, but they were too busy screaming for their mummies to conduct a thorough search of their memories.
Kodachi whistled happily as she strolled back to the girls' sleeping rooms. That had been a fun diversion. And those two clumsy ruffians had squealed so delightfully when whipped with her ribbon. She had a feeling that she would enjoy it here.
"Yah. Righ' beautiful beasties they are, Hippogryphs."
It is the start of a strange but firm friendship.
(Posted Thu, 21 Nov 2002 23:25)
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