In seemed to Trixie that since the school had reversed its policy on halfbreeds there had been a general attitude amongst many of her peers that it was somehow acceptable to be proud of one’s heritage and status. Wherever she went she heard people muttering about so-and-so’s great-granny being a famous veela or else Mr What’s-His-Name being part of a family that several generations before had spawned from a vampire and somehow, and here she blamed everybody from the teachers to the Minister of Magic himself, they didn’t seem to be ashamed of these connections.

To add insult to injury uppity halfbloods were quite convinced they were the equals of any purebloods and she had even heard some mudbloods becoming bold. Suffice to say the new ways at Hogwarts had left Trixie with precious few friends and sudden need to develop a thick skin as the majority of her classmates turned on her like treacherous cockroaches. Ignoring two of them as they passed noted and giggled had become an almost daily endurance for her to rise above but today the pattern was slightly changed by the note being caught mid-air.

It was that odd girl. Trixie knew her in passing but not especially well and yet she couldn’t resist the urge to follow her out of charms as quickly as she was able, morbidly curious as to what the stupid little bitches were actually saying about her.

She cleared her throat and the girl turned to her with wide-eyes – Trixie snorted out a mirthless laugh.

“Too much for your delicate eyes is it?”