Speech Is Silver, but Silence Is Golden

Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.

Weasley was born in a bin
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley will make sure we win
Weasley is our King.

Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley is our King.

The song still played over and over in my mind, while I sat in my favourite spot in the Slytherin common room. The greenish glow had vanished already, leaving an unmatched pool of black water in its wake. The tiny windows were pitch black and there was nothing to be seen anymore. The only light in the room resulted from the black iron candle chandeliers on the ceiling. It was scarcely enough to illuminate every corner, but it was enough to be considered adequate lightning.

As always I had a book lying opened in front of me, trying to concentrate and begin with today’s potions assignment. But the song kept replaying in my mind and I couldn’t focus.

I still saw Pansy Parkinson standing with her back towards the field, conducting the Slytherin choir after Slytherin had scored the fourth time.

Lee Jordan had barely been able to make himself heard anymore. And when the Gryffindors had scored the first time, the commotion had been so loud that he had been drowned out.

And then there had been the seconds which had ended the game surprisingly early. When Potter had spotted the snitch and he and Draco had raced to get it. Potter had succeeded, securing the win for his team and leaving an angry Draco behind.

But he had calmed down now and though he had been beaten up by George Weasley and Potter only a few hours ago, he was bragging about how they were being banned from playing Quidditch.

I only caught a few scraps of conversation, because the new educational decree number 25 which said that “the High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions and removal of privileges pertaining to students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions and removals of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members.” was unsettling.

Yet another branch of power fell into the Ministry’s realm. And punishments were one of the most important interactions with teachers. So the Ministry continued to sever the bonds between teachers and students.

I sighed as I heard Draco’s loud voice in the common room. He didn’t seem to be aware that it was not a triumphant atmosphere he was surrounded by. It was rather gloomy, because Slytherin had once again lost. And against Gryffindor no less.

“I just told Potter that Weasley was the worst keeper I had ever seen. Oh and of course that we wanted to write another couple of verses about Weasley’s mother and his father. But fat and ugly and useless looser didn’t rhyme. So we couldn’t. Sadly.” A sardonic smirk played around his lips, only shortly disrupted by a wince of pain. A blue-purplish bruise was forming on his chin where he had been punched.

No one of his posse noticed though, as they were too busy laughing. At least Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle. The others only showed forced grins. And Draco was no idiot. He noticed and in a matter of seconds he had opened his mouth again, surely keen on bragging some more of what insulting things he had said to the Gryffindors to enrage them.

I didn’t even want to know. Mostly it was just talk anyway. And the look on Potter’s face when he had punched Draco had been murderous. For a moment he had really scared me. And judging from the screeches of girls and the yells of the crowd I hadn’t been the only one.

But even after Potter had been lifted off his feet, hit by the impedimenta jinx of Madam Hooch, I had winced, seeing Draco whimpering and moaning on the ground, his nose bleeding and holding his stomach. His gasps for air had the hairs on my neck stand on end.

I would have been happy that Potter and the Weasley twins had been kicked off the team hadn’t there been the educational decree. And the fact that Goyle, for his illegal bludger, only had to write lines. This was an abuse of power. Even if it was in favour of my house.

I saw how a tall black boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes – Blaise Zabini as I knew – patted Draco’s shoulder in a praising manner. A moment later his deep voice rumbled through the room.

“The idea with those badges was brilliant, Draco. And your song nearly made Weasley cry.” My eyes flickered to the silver crowns on their cloaks shortly before another, higher voice interrupted.

A lanky boy, probably in year six or seven, had objected, arms crossed and two of his friends behind him. A beautiful blonde girl and a brown haired boy with icy blue eyes.

“We still lost, Malfoy. Those pathetic Gryffindors won again. Despite your brilliant plan.” I raised my eyebrows at the sarcastic remark and watched with amusement how Draco’s pleased smirk turned smug, his grey eyes catching mine. I didn’t turn away, just blinked and held his gaze.

Pansy’s voice rang shrilly throughout the room a moment later, a bark akin to that of a pug. “You don’t know everything Draco does, Knight. He got beaten up, don’t you see that? And last week he nearly got attacked by Longb-“

“Enough.” Draco said loudly and with authority in his voice that stunned me momentarily. The smug smirk had disappeared and he had broken eye-contact to throw reprimanding looks at Pansy. Her expression was dumbfounded before she seemed to understand something and apologized shortly.

I narrowed my eyes. For a fleeting moment I thought that Draco was just too stubborn to admit that he had been beaten up, that it probably was too embarrassing. But there had been a change in his eyes, right before he had turned away. The smirk had disappeared and his eyes had softened and shone with… regret.

Then again, it would fit perfectly, because I had never heard him brag about that incident. Clearly Longbottom had been affected by what Draco had said that day. And probably Draco knew more than I did and therefore shut up about it.

I was disturbed in the train of my thoughts when Draco rose from the couch he was sitting on, and his eyes intently in my direction, walked up to me. I watched him sceptically, confused by his behaviour. But as he reached me and a crooked smile played around his lips, I saw how his shoulders were lifted and his walk was slightly stiff.

He stopped in front of my table and sized me up for a moment. Then he reached into the pocket of his cloak pulling something out.

I was aware of the eyes watching the exchange between us and even more aware of how silent it was, now that Draco wasn’t talking anymore. Without any greeting he changed that, knowing full well that everyone was listening, judging by the anticipating glint in his eyes.

“I like you.” He stated simply, putting a silver bandage in the shape of a crown on the table. While he slid it over towards me, he continued. “You’re silent.”

My eyes were widened in pure astonishment as I saw his crooked smile morph into a full blown, self-satisfied smirk. With his statement that was clear as ice, he had confused me more than he would have been able to with any cryptic message. And still, when he lowered his eyes to the badge, I took it as my call to do the same. So I looked at the badge and read the words inscripted.

Weasley is our king.

And when I looked up again, about to question why he gave me that, I only caught a glimpse of his light blonde hair, as he left the low-ceilinged, dungeon-like common room with his posse.