Chapter 2: The Silver-Tongued Serpent

The morning after my Sorting, the Great Hall was buzzing with the usual 5th-year chaos. I was sitting at the Gryffindor table, trying to navigate a plate of kippers while Hermione gave me a rundown of our schedule.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins first thing," she sighed, checking her parchment. "Snape is... a challenge, to say the least."

"And Malfoy is even worse," Ron added, spraying crumbs as he spoke. "He’s been glaring at you since you walked in last night, Melody. Probably because your dad is a 'big deal' in the Muggle world. He hates anything to do with Muggles."

I looked over at the Slytherin table. Almost immediately, my eyes met a pair of cold, grey ones. Draco Malfoy wasn't just glancing; he was studying me. He whispered something to the large boys beside him,"Crabbe and Goyle, Harry had called them,and they let out a synchronized snicker.

"I’ve dealt with stuck-up politicians my whole life," I said, turning back to my toast. "A boy with too much hair gel doesn't scare me."

When we reached the dungeons for Potions, the air was damp and chilly. I took a seat next to Neville Longbottom, who looked like he was vibrating with nerves.

"Settle down," a silky, dangerous voice rang out. Professor Snape swept into the room like a giant bat. He began the lesson by listing ingredients for the Draught of Peace, his eyes lingering on me for a second too long. "It seems we have a 'celebrity' among us. The daughter of a Muggle official. Let us see if your lineage has provided you with any actual talent, Miss Thatcher."

I felt my face heat up. I reached for my jar of powdered moonstone, but before I could grab it, a pale hand snatched it away.

"Looking for this, Melody?"

I looked up. Draco Malfoy had moved from his station and was leaning against my desk, spinning the jar in his hand. Up close, he looked even more arrogant. Unfortunately, even more handsome.

"Give it back, Malfoy," I said, my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest.

"I heard your father runs the Muggle government," he sneered, leaning in so only I could hear him. "Tell me, does he spend his days fixing broken toasters, or does he actually do something important?"

"He manages an entire country, which is more than I can say for you," I snapped. "You can’t even manage to stay at your own cauldron without bothering me."

His eyes flashed with genuine anger. "You’ve got a big mouth for a newcomer. Just remember, Thatcher- in this world, your father's title means nothing. You’re just another Muggle-born who doesn't belong."

He slammed the jar back onto the table, the powder puffing up into a small cloud. As he walked back to his seat, he purposefully bumped my shoulder.

"Don't listen to him," Hermione whispered from the desk behind me.

I gripped my stirring rod until my knuckles turned white. I came here to learn magic, not to be a target for some blonde bully. But as I watched Malfoy smirk at his friends, I realized one thing: 5th year wasn't going to be the quiet transition I had hoped for. It was going to be a war.