Laughing openly Trixie ran a blunt fingernail over the covers of her hard-won armchair. Since she had taken possession of the dormitory’s best bed she made made a show of instructing the house elves to thoroughly clean each and every sheet that might have so much as touched the former occupant, had strung up dried wolfsbane stolen from her mother’s potions ingredients at home, and had taken every opportunity to threaten anyone who dared stand up her with detention. Suffice to say no one had argued when she demanded the best seat in the common room too.

In fact no one had been stupid enough to argue with her about much at all but that record of common sense amongst her dormmates was rapidly coming to an end and she was rather glad of that fact. It was really quite especially satisfying to think of Holliday Fudge’s hand seizing up with cramp as she wrote line after line of “I must not be such a smug bitch.” Or something along those lines. She might have to change it before she told the matron.

“It’s true though, isn’t it?” Trix snarled back, voice full of vicious mirth, fully aware that what she was saying would hit just the right spot. “Being dead is much better than being a freak of nature.”