Thinking For Herself

All the Slytherins welcomed the first Hogsmeade weekend of the academic year, which took place in early October. Millicent usually went with Pansy and a bunch of other girls, content to drift along in their wake. The more of them there were, the less she was expected to contribute to the conversation. She usually bought a few bags of sweets from Honeydukes. Honeydukes made some odd confections, including coconut mice, which Millicent bought for the cats. They didn't eat the coconut, but they enjoyed chasing the mice round the pet room.

A letter from her mother arrived on the morning of the Hogsmeade trip. As Pansy fussed around with her hair and fretted about not being able to find the right hairclips, Millicent flung the letter down on her neatly made bed. All the Slytherins had been angry to hear tales of people's mail being watched or opened. So far it hadn't happened to Millicent or any of her friends, but Eloise Midgen had mentioned that a couple of the more mischievous Hufflepuffs had received opened letters. When Dolores Umbridge was made High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, it just seemed to give her a licence to poke her nose into people's private lives.

"Bad news from home?" Pansy asked, settling for a plain silver barette.

"No, just a letter from my mother," Millicent grumbled. "I don't know why she's started writing to me again - we don't have anything in common."

"I'd call Muggle ancestors common," Pansy said snidely, admiring her own trim reflection in the mirror.

Millicent was shocked. How dare Pansy bring up her great-grandparents? Her cheeks burned with shame and, for the umpteenth time, Millicent hated her mother for giving birth to her and putting her in this position. She should have married a Muggle and had stupid Muggle children who didn't know how pathetic they were.

"Oh, don't pull that face, Millie," Pansy snapped. "I was teasing. Come on - Blaise is walking in with Draco and we might bump into them on the way. Just don't bump too hard or you'll flatten them."

Her friend was clearly in one of those moods today - when Pansy started being awful early in the day, it usually meant she'd be horrid until teatime. Although Millicent did fancy Blaise (and regretted ever mentioning it to Pansy), she knew full well that he'd never give her the time of day, so Pansy couldn't really use him to persuade her. Even if she'd been pureblood, she'd have been too ugly for him to notice. "I've got work to do," she told Pansy. "I can't come to Hogsmeade."

"Don't be such a dreadful sulker," Pansy ordered, realising she'd upset Millicent by commenting on her parentage. Pansy didn't know why Millicent got so touchy about it; it was the truth that Mudbloods and half-bloods were inferior. Millicent herself had said as much in their early years at school. She just had to learn to live with who she was. "You're coming to Hogsmeade and that's..."

Millicent made her escape before Pansy could browbeat her into going. Some days her housemate was too much to put up with. She spent a couple of hours in the Library, reading about Bowtruckles. She'd been really amused by the twiggy creatures, and wanted to know more about them. Did they find wand-quality trees, or did they make the trees produce wand-quality wood? Did Bowtruckles that lived in trees with distinctive bark, like silver birches or London planes, have different skins?

She only returned to her house when she was sure none of the older pupils would be there, and she could fuss over the cats in peace. She nearly threw the letter from her mother into the Common Room fireplace, but felt unable to. It was full of nonsense about the Bodes' dinner party and the 'utterly charming' new cake recipe Jessica Goyle had served at a witches' afternoon tea. Burning it should have been easy. It would have felt like denying her mother existed, however, and no matter how much Millicent resented the woman for being a half-blood and blighting both their lives, she stubbornly refused to pretend either of them were anything else. She wasn't going to lie about what they both were.

Slumping back in her chair, Millicent tried to imagine what, if anything, she could do about her mother. The ironic thing was many families seemed to accept her, including the Malfoys. Perhaps they pity her, Millicent thought, but I don't want them to pity me. I want to be their equal. If I have to be fat and plain and slow at lessons, I want it to be because I'm Millicent and that's how I am, not because I'm a half-blood and that's how they are. In the end, she folded the letter up and put it in her trunk in her bedroom, well hidden underneath the never-used Quidditch robes which she brought, optimistically, with her each term.

After that she pottered around Slytherin house, helping younger pupils with their homework. Two of the more obliging ones helped her to clear out the toad tanks, laughing as the big amphibians walked around the room. They had to retrieve them from under cupboards before Jasmine or Puss got them. "That funny walk is how you know they're toads," Millicent told them, scrubbing at a patch of algae and, still grumpy at the argument she'd had that morning, imagining it was Pansy's head. "If someone tries to sell you one that hops, it's a frog."

By the time Pansy returned from Hogsmeade laden with purchases, including a pair of shoes with heels so high he'd blast them off Pansy's feet if he saw her wearing them in the corridors, she'd completely forgotten her spiteful mood. Instead, she was bemused at the sudden popularity of the Hog's Head, where, it seemed, quite a few pupils had gone for a drink. "You know," she told Millicent, "I think it's a brilliant thing, because all the people who went there - well, they're not our sort, anyway. It leaves the Three Broomsticks for us, which is lovely. Oh, and I got you these, because you were in a bad mood this morning."

Pansy thrust a bag of coconut mice at Millicent. That and the reference to 'our sort' as close as Pansy would come to apologising, so Millicent accepted the mice, feeling them squirming inside the paper bag. "I can't think why the Hog's Head would become popular," she mused. "I went in by mistake on my first Hogsmeade trip. It's awful. The glasses weren't clean, and the smell of the barman - believe me, it was dreadful."

"Potter and his gang were part of it. A place like that ought to suit them - they spend time with the Weasleys, so it probably looks like a palace by comparison," Pansy laughed. Pansy had spent so much time sneering at Harry's friends for being poor, 'a bit Weasley' had become Slytherin slang for anything that was worn out, unwanted or just plain cheap.

Friends again, Millicent and Pansy sat on the sofa by the fire and had a nice, long, friendly chat about everything except Millicent's mother. They then went through to the room where Millicent fed the cats and had a good laugh watching the animals chase the coconut mice. Jasmine gracefully scooped hers up with her paw; Puss flattened his. Millicent dismissed all thought of Harry Potter until the following day, when there was another surprise for the entire school.

"What's up?" Millicent asked a group of young Slytherins standing round the silver-framed notice board. There was a new sheet of parchment tacked to it, and without even bothering to read it properly she could tell it was a new Ministry decree.

"Dolores Umbridge has cancelled all clubs," little Sophie de Winter told her with a scowl. She folded her arms. "Educational Decree twenty-four. Well, she's not getting rid of History Club that easily. We're supposed to be having a talk on witch burnings next week. I want to hear all about the evil Muggles."

Millicent chuckled at the child's determination. "I'm sure History Club is no threat to her. She's probably just closing down all clubs so she can decide which ones to re-open, to get rid of any dodgy ones that aren't so well-known."

"Good." Sophie was clear.

"Be polite when you ask her if you can start the club up again," Millicent warned. "Manners cost nothing, and she likes good ones." Even if it was a stupid rule, it was in place now. Given how many pupils belonged to at least one club, Umbridge would have half the school at her office door. She'd probably see every Hufflepuff four times.

Sophie nodded. Some of the younger pupils were in awe of Millicent because she was so large; others wondered why Draco and Pansy would bother to hang around with such an ugly half-blood when there were so many other people they could be friends with. Sophie, being one of the brighter young Slytherins, didn't care why they liked Millicent, the fact that they did meant she was prepared to associate with Millicent too. She'd come to realise that Millicent was fundamentally decent, and so was quite a fan of the shy fifth year. If Millicent advised her to be polite, she'd do exactly that.

As Millicent walked off, she started to think. What dodgy clubs were there, anyway? She ran through the various societies and associations in her mind. She couldn't think of any that Umbridge would dislike, but then she didn't know many clubs. Could the mass patronage of the Hog's Head be something to do with it? From what she'd heard other pupils say, Professor Umbridge and Harry Potter seemed to have some sort of private battle waging, and he'd been part of that group according to Pansy. Umbridge was powerful, but Potter had taken on You-Know-Who as a baby. Millicent decided she wouldn't wager who'd win the war, although her gut feeling was that it would get nasty sooner or later.

Not by nature a joiner, Millicent usually ignored societies. She had tried out for the Quidditch team, and knew she was a better goalie than they had at present, but she was a girl, and it was unlikely she'd ever make it on to the team. That was as far as her interest in group activities extended. Pansy, however, had her fingers in many pies, and might know what Umbridge's ultimate aim was.

Pansy was sitting on the sofa opposite the fire, snuggled up close to Draco. Millicent was so used to the sight of them like that, she'd come to think of them as a pair of kittens, only happy when the other was in sight. Pansy did certainly mew pitifully about Draco whenever he'd been away from her for any length of time - and like all kittens, she'd happily lash out at anything within swatting distance.

"Pansy, what clubs might Umbridge not like?"

Pansy blinked. "Hmm?"

"She's closing all the clubs and societies, and they can only reopen with her permission."

Draco grinned slowly. "She's probably just trying to work out what we're all up to when we're not in lessons. I know which ones I don't like, though: Gryffindor Quidditch team. Hurrah for Dolores. She doesn't like them much either."

Adrian Pucey looked up from one of the comfy chairs. He was playing Chaser this year, although he admitted freely that he liked scoring goals too much to be a good player. He'd never get picked up for a professional team because he hated having to pass the Quaffle. "We'd better get our own Quidditch team approved. We could get in extra practice while they're still waiting for permission to reform. If they get it, that is."

"Oh, we won't have any trouble there," Draco crowed. "She'll keep them off the pitch."

"She won't be able to hold out forever," Millicent warned. "It wouldn't be fair."

"So?" In Draco's world, things were only unfair when they put him at a disadvantage. If they happened to anyone else, that was a misfortune the person would just have to bear.

Pansy tickled Draco's arm. "I think Umbridge likes to believe that she's being fair and people like her. She'll give them permission to reform in the end, just to keep most of the house happy."

The senior pupils and those with an interest in Quidditch joined in the discussion. "Pansy's right," Urquhart, possibly Slytherin's most Machiavellian student, remarked. "She won't like people thinking she's got something against a whole house, even if she is biased against them. McGonagall won't stand for it, and there are kids from some good families in Gryffindor - can you see Augusta Longbottom putting up with it? She'll be straight down the Ministry, or to see her friends on the Wizengamot."

"Why would she bother? It's not as if her grandson could ever play on a Quidditch team," Blaise Zabini scoffed.

"I wish he did," Pucey replied. "If what I've heard about their team practices is anything to go by, with him and Ron Weasley on the side, winning would be a cinch for us."

"Weasley is such an idiot," Draco mused. "We went to see their first practice, and he's the worst keeper I've seen on a Hogwarts team in years. I can't believe they picked him. He's only in the team because he's Potter's boyfriend." Nobody reminded him how hard he had worked to get Crabbe and Goyle selected for the Slytherin team.

Pansy giggled. "I thought Potter liked Hermione Granger."

Blaise made gagging sounds. "Granger? You have got to be joking - given the choice, even I'd pick Ron Weasley. At least you know who his parents are, even if they are-"

"Filthy blood traitors!" Draco and Pansy chorused cheerfully. Blaise looked embarrassed. Millicent, for her part, was quite glad Blaise's ire was usually focussed on blood traitors; she didn't think she could bear it if he ever started insulting half-bloods within her hearing. Just seeing him sizing up all the attractive pureblood girls in the dining hall was bad enough.

"You need a new catchphrase, Blaise," Urquhart remarked. "If Weasley's that rubbish, can't you just put him off somehow? Why not distract him so he can't play at all?"

Draco considered it. In certain ways, he hated the Weasleys even more than he hated Harry Potter. Potter hadn't had a respectable upbringing, being raised by Muggles, and his mother had been a Mudblood, so it was understandable that he behaved appallingly, whereas the Weasleys had never been remotely respectable despite having every possible inherited advantage. Every time he saw them, it made his flesh creep to think he and they were related. He'd love to put them in their place.

"Don't get yourself into trouble," Pansy urged. "Not over scum like that."

"Oh, I won't lay a finger on him," Draco assured her. "He's always going red and stammering at little things. We just need to wind him up a bit. Maybe wave a pair of Granger's knickers as a Slytherin flag."

"Ew, I wouldn't like to be the person who got those," Blaise grimaced.

"That's all right, you can get Ginny Weasley's," Draco laughed, as Blaise tried to look cool and unaffected by the dig.

"From what I've heard, everyone from Dumbledore down to the House Elves could get Ginny Weasley's," Pansy snorted. "She'll take them off for anyone. They're probably her mum's hand-me-downs..."

Draco wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes, and poked Pansy in the tummy. "You are a very naughty little flower," he chuckled. Pansy simpered.

Adrian had already abandoned the discussion and retired to an alcove near the bookcase full of encyclopaedias and atlases, which he browsed through idly. Millicent got up and went to join him, not wanting to watch her friends drooling all over one another for the rest of the evening. "Don't you want to stay and help bring about Ron Weasley's downfall?" he asked.

"Not really," Millicent admitted. "They're not really planning anything anyhow, they're all just being daft now. I'd like to see you lot win, but I'd like to see you win because you're better than the Gryffindors. I know that's not showing the House spirit, but I love the sport, not just winning. Here, I think I've learned that next spell."

"Show me."

Millicent tried showing Adrian. He looked irritated at her jerky movements. "No, still not right. At this rate, you'll only be any good at half-a-dozen by your exam."

"Well, it beats not knowing any," she huffed.

Adrian actually smiled for once. "You're doing all right," he admitted. "It's better to be good at three spells than mediocre at thirty. A mediocre effort wouldn't defend you against anything."

"It's a good job there aren't many Dark wizards in the world," Millicent mused. "Most of Hogwarts would be in big trouble. I can't see how the other houses will pass their exams."

"If they want to do it, they'll find a way. Now, try that hex again, and we'll go over the Jellylegs Curse once more."

Millicent groaned inside. She wished two or three other people had also been getting help from Adrian - like Gryffindor's Quidditch team, they could have had a break while waiting for Umbridge to give them permission to carry on.