The Slytherin Saga: Book One: The Year Without Quidditch

Preface:

Draco Malfoy seethed. He gritted his teeth against each other and tried not to sneer so visibly as to disturb the guests at the Slytherin table. He had been favorably impressed with the men from Durmstrang, and was happy enough when the Goblet of Fire had produced the name of Viktor Krum as their champion for the Triwizard tournament. The Durmstrang contingent had reacted as though they expected as much and were shaking hands around the table. Draco and his friends had joined in the congratulations with the other Durmstrang students just after Viktor's announcement, and had continued the pleasantries through the announcement of the Beauxbatons and Hogwarts champions. But then there was the surprise; the madness that followed. When Harry Potter's name had come from the Goblet, Draco almost fell over. He had to sit down rather abruptly, much to the chagrin of a certain Vlad Marinov with whom he had been talking. Draco could feel his face turning red as his anger welled up inside of him. He turned toward the far end of the table where he noticed his fellow Slytherins looking utterly confused, and some nearly as angry as he was. He clenched his fists and fidgeted in his seat until the ruckus in the room had begun to die down and the visiting students had begun to file out. "Potter," Draco growled under his breath. He looked through the crowd of Slytherins for his usual cohorts, but could not manage to spot either Crabbe or Goyle. He did, however, spot something interesting at the foot of the table. Draco leaned over to the boy next to him, a sixth year whose name he had never bothered to learn. "Who is that?" he whispered, regarding the unfamiliar auburn haired girl at the foot of the table.

"I've got no idea," the boy answered him, shrugging his shoulders. Draco frowned. The girl was a stranger, and she was at his table. She looked to be at least seventeen, but was certainly no Slytherin he had seen before. "I thought she was with the Durmstrang people," the boy next to him offered. "But she didn't leave with them."

"I don't think that Durmstrang even brought any girls," he added. "I don't have any idea who that girl is. But she's wearing a Slytherin scarf and tie." Warrington, a fellow Quidditch player who was seated across the table from Draco, commented.

"But she's new," Pansy Parkinson whispered.

"And it's not the beginning of the term. Do you think she's here as part of the tournament?" Liese Lagergren, Pansy's friend and fellow fourth year chimed in.

Draco shook his head. He was already aggravated by the shenanigans regarding the Goblet of Fire and now there was an unfamiliar and potentially unwelcome presence at the Slytherin table. The gossip seemed to make its way down the table, as a few at a time heads turned to face the stranger. The girl herself seemed totally unaware of the fact that she was being stared at. The whispers traveled back and forth across the table. It seemed as though most of the others there had figured her to be part of one of the visiting delegations, that is, among those that noticed she was there at all. Most of the Slytherins at the table were trying to be polite and not stare, but that was made impossible when Professor Snape approached her. She smiled at him and stood up to shake his hand. After a brief exchange, she turned and walked out of the room amid the crowd of fellow Hogwarts students who had been dismissed but were too excited by the evening's events to go back to their dormitories and go to bed. Snape turned to the students and scowled at them.

"There is no place here for gossip," he announced to them. "But if you must know, her name is Orinda Hartlestead and she's a graduate student from Ireland." Heads nodded around the table as Professor Snape continued. "She is starting her master's thesis on the History of Magic under the tutelage of Professor Dumbledore and teaching an advanced history elective beginning after the Christmas holiday. Dumbledore invited her here early to witness the opening of the Triwizard tournament. She arrived this afternoon and he found it necessary to put her under the sorting hat. She will be staying in the large room near the entrance to the common room. If you need to know anything else, I would suggest talking to her instead of about her." Professor Snape frowned at them and turned to leave. "And I would also suggest," he added, turning only his head back to face them, "that you all remember that curfew is still in effect." Snape skulked out of the Great Hall, leaving the students to their own devices.

"A graduate student?" Pansy repeated, sounding astonished. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"Me neither," Liese agreed.

"Sure there's such a thing," Warrington chimed in. "There's just not a whole lot of them. Usually, once a witch or wizard has passed all of their O.W.L.'s and their N.E.W.T.s- if they pass them, they're ready to do whatever it is they're going to do. You know, get a job in the ministry, or go in to private practice of some sort. But sometimes you graduate from Wizarding School and you don't know what you want to do, or you want to do something so specific- or to teach something so specific- that you need extra time to study before you really feel qualified. So you apply to be taken on as a graduate student somewhere. The programs usually last three years- sometimes longer. We had one here before, I remember the guy; he was done when I was a second year. He was a Ravenclaw, though; and a wimp; and an awful bore. Usually it's not the more dynamic or powerful wizards that take the extra schooling. More likely than not this girl is just a big brain with little to no skill at anything but studying.”

"But that's not the type of person who might get sorted into Slytherin house," Liese asserted.

"She has a point," Goyle, who had somehow appeared behind Draco, added. "Slytherin is not a place for dim witted dullards." Draco shook his head.

"You're a fine one to talk," he spat, leering at his comrade. "But what does it matter?" he added, his mind clearly still on the situation with Harry Potter and the tournament. "She has her own room and we only have to deal with her if we choose to take a history elective; which I, for one, will not." Draco looked around the Great Hall and noticed that everyone else had either left or begun to leave. He shook his head as people continued to file past his table, all of them whispering and chattering loudly. Draco kept hearing the name "Harry Potter" being repeated over and over again. He tried to shake off the feeling he had of wanting to perpetrate an act of violence against the next person he heard speak that wretched name. He turned to Goyle, and then to Crabbe who had appeared just to the other side of him. "Let's get out of here."