You’d think after a year of magical education, my biggest concern would be exams, or, I don’t know, accidentally blowing up my cauldron in Potions again. But no. My biggest problem? My family.
It started on the Hogwarts Express. The train ride home was fine—great even. I spent it with Draco, Pansy, and Blaise. We talked about all the ways Gryffindor didn’t deserve the House Cup (spoiler: it’s a long list). Blaise even came up with a game called “How Many Rules Did Harry Potter Break?” The record was ten before we got bored.
By the time the train pulled into King’s Cross, I was in a good mood. Then I saw Ron.
Now, I know I shouldn’t have been surprised. This is Ron we’re talking about—the human embodiment of a tattling Howler. But I guess I underestimated just how fast he’d throw me under the Knight Bus.
The second he spotted Mum and Dad, he bolted toward them like a Golden Snitch was dangling in front of his nose.
“Mum! Dad! Guess what Vipera did!”
I froze mid-step, my trunk screeching to a halt on the platform. Oh no.
Mum frowned, already suspicious. “What did she do?”
“She yelled at Dumbledore!” Ron announced, his voice loud enough for half the station to hear. “In front of the whole school! She said Gryffindor didn’t deserve the House Cup and called him biased!”
Mum’s eyes went wide, and Dad’s eyebrows shot so far up, they practically disappeared into his hairline. Ginny looked like I’d just confessed to being You-Know-Who’s secret pen pal.
“Vipera Weasley!” Mum’s voice could’ve shattered glass. “Is this true?”
Okay, time to play it cool.
“Yes,” I said, lifting my chin. “And I’d do it again. Slytherin earned that cup fair and square, and Gryffindor only won because of Dumbledore’s favoritism. It’s not fair.”
“Not fair?” Ron spluttered, his ears turning red. “You embarrassed the family! Do you know how many people were staring at you?”
“Oh, please,” I snapped. “This coming from the guy who spent half the year sticking his foot in his mouth. You’re the one who’s an embarrassment!”
“That’s enough!” Mum’s voice cut through our argument like a hex. “Vipera, you’re grounded for the entire summer. No Quidditch, no Hogsmeade, no fun.”
“What?” I gaped at her. “That’s not fair! I didn’t even do anything wrong!”
“You disrespected Professor Dumbledore in front of everyone,” Mum said, her face red with anger. “Do you have any idea how that makes us look?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Next time, I’ll just sit quietly while Gryffindor cheats their way to the top.”
“Upstairs!” Mum shouted, pointing toward the car. “Now!”
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The Burrow was just as chaotic as I remembered, but this time it felt less like home and more like a prison. I lugged my trunk up the crooked staircase to my room, which felt even smaller and stuffier than usual.
Ron stomped past me, glaring like I’d personally hexed his pet rat. (Not that I’d ever do that…probably.) Ginny gave me a weird look, half annoyed and half impressed, before disappearing into her own room.
Great. Welcome home, Vipera.
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I was lying on my bed, staring at the peeling paint on the ceiling, when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I muttered, expecting Mum to barge in with another lecture.
But it wasn’t Mum. It was Ginny.
She slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Did you really yell at Dumbledore?”
“Yes,” I said flatly, waiting for the judgment.
To my surprise, she grinned. “That’s actually kind of cool.”
I blinked. “Wait, what?”
“Yeah,” she said, sitting on the edge of my bed. “I mean, I’d never have the guts to do it, but still. You’ve got nerve.”
For the first time all day, I smiled. “Thanks, Ginny.”
“Don’t let Ron get to you,” she added. “He’s just mad because you didn’t follow the Weasley playbook. You’re different. And that’s not a bad thing.”
I didn’t say anything, but her words stuck with me. Maybe I didn’t belong in Gryffindor—or even in this family—but for once, I didn’t feel completely alone.
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As I lay awake that night, staring at the moonlit shadows on the ceiling, I made a promise to myself. Next year, things were going to change. I wasn’t going to let anyone—or anything—hold me back.
Not Ron. Not Dumbledore. Not anyone.
Slytherin was going to win.
And I was going to make damn sure of it.
TO BE CONTINUED•••
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