Holly Potter and the Unicorn Hair

Holly had hardly seen Harry all week. He and Ron were routinely late for meals so even though seating wasn’t as strict for breakfast and lunch, Holly had spent every meal with the Slytherins thus far. As for their shared classes - of which there were only two - Holly had missed the first one, Defense Against the Dark Arts entirely because of Peeves, the problematic poltergeist prankster, chasing her through the castle. Eventually, The Bloody Baron, Slytherin’s house ghost, had chased him off and helped her find her classroom, just as the class ended. She explained to Professor Quirrell what had happened and luckily he had taken ten points from Slytherin, but had not given her any detention.

Profesor Snape began his class with a roll call. Not every teacher had, but Flitwick did, and Professor Sprout. She suspected McGonagall of taking count of them as well, though she did it silently. Boring Professor Bins certainly had not. He just jumped straight into the lesson, droning on and on with absolutely no engagement from the rest of the class. It had been a great disappointment to Holly, who wanted to know everything she could about her new world.

“Ah, yes,” said Professor Snape, when he reached Harry and Holly’s names on the list. He looked up, a strangely sour expression on his face. “The Potter twins. Our new - celebrities." He said this as he looked across the aisle at Harry, as though her brother had somehow personally offended him some time during the last six days. That seemed more Holly’s deal than Harry’s, but she didn’t completely dismiss the thought.

Draco and his goons sniggered from the back of the classroom, and Pansy mutters something along the lines of “princess of tatters” from her place just behind Holly.

Professor Snape, head of Slytherin house, looked at Holly for the first time and instantly his sour expression twisted into something she could not name, but definitely did not like at all. “....Slytherin…” he muttered, to himself. Then, even quieter, he said what sounded like her mother’s name.

Snape snapped himself out of it and finished out of it, finishing attendance hurriedly. Harry and Holly exchanged a glance, but snapped their attention back to the front when Blaise’s name was called, marking the end of roll.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making,” began Professor Snape. He spoke softly, but even so, he easily commanded the attention of everyone in the class. “I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses … I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

` his little speech concluded and still, nobody spoke at all. Tracey nudged Holly, and when she looked, she found her friend mouthing ‘what was that about?’ BBut Holly could only shrug and wonder the same thing.

“Potter!” Said Snape, instantly snapping Holly’s attention up to the front. He was currently staring down Harry, sour expression back on his face. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry looked completely lost, though Hermione had her hand up. “I don’t know sir,” Harry said, quietly.

Snape’s sour expression turned to an all-out sneer. “Tut, tut - fame clearly isn’t everything.” He drawled. “Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find a Bezoar?”

Draco’s stupid little gang were laughing loudly now, and Hermione looked like she might explode from not answering the question.

“I don’t know, sir.” Harry said again, flushing pink.

Holly decided then, that this had gone on long enough. “Draught of Living Death.” she blurted. Snape’s eyes snapped to her, and narrowed, making him resemble a beetle somewhat. “Powdered root of asphodel and infusion of wormwood make Draught of Living Death. A sleeping draft so strong that you will appear dead. As for the bezoar, it’s a stone taken from a goat. It works against most potions.” she paused there for a moment, meeting his gaze. “Anything else?” she asked, innocently.

Tracey sniggered and Hermione dropped her hand.

“Fifteen points to Slytherin.” Snape finally decided, thus earning them back the points Holly had lost them, and then some.

The rest of class went much the same, with Harry making innocent mistakes and Snape docking him point after point, while Crabb and Goyle made even more mistakes than even, admittedly very smart Draco could fix, and yet, Slytherin only seemed to gain points. It wasn’t because of Holly’s studiousness, either, because the Gryffindors had Hermione but Snape seemed to hate her just as much. One top of that, he kept looking at her strangely and muttering “Lilly, Lilly Lilly” when he thought she couldn’t hear him.

In short, Potions class was awful.

When it was finally over, Harry wouldn’t even talk to her. But, at least, she seemed to have earned some tentative respect from most of her classmates. Draco didn’t so much as snigger at her the rest of the day, and even Pansy was quiet, while the rest seemed pretty happy with all the points they had earned from their head of house, most of which came from Holly and Draco.

The next few weeks went by much the same, until one Monday morning, they found a notice on the bulletin board, announcing the start of flying lessons on Thursday afternoon, with the Gryffindors. They found that that week could not go by fast enough, they were all so excited.

Draco would not shut up about how good he was at flying. “Not like you’d know anything about that, Potter! Bet you’ve never even seen a broom!”

“Oh, she’s seen one. She’s like a servant or something, aren't you, Holly?” said Pansy, sneering.

Holly shrugged. “Whatever you say, Pig-Face.” she said, and snorted for good measure.

“How dare you!” Draco cried, “you stupid half-blood!”

Holly snorted again, very much enjoying the shade of red Draco’s face was turning. “We must be having pork for dinner, because why else would there be pigs running around the castle?” she said, wickedly.

“You’re right,” agreed Tracey, “I’ll tell the house elves they got out.”

Draco stormed off, screeching “my father will hear about this, Potter, just you wait!”

Thursday finally came. The week had seemed slow already, but the morning was by far the slowest.

The Slytherins arrived first, finding twenty or so broomsticks laid out in neat lines for them, but as yet, no teacher or Gryffindors. “These brooms are ghastly!” Draco sniffed. “If I had my broom-”

“Oh can it, will you?” Tracey snapped, and, surprisingly, he did.

Their Gryffindor counterparts came not long after, smiling and chattering happily amongst themselves as though getting along with ones housemates was the easiest feat of all. Holly didn’t mind Slytherin in the least, but she wished getting along with her peers was just a little less taxing. More than anything else though, she hoped that maybe Harry’s athleticism (and her lack-there-of) might put them on more even footing again. She missed him.

That… wasn’t what happened.

The lesson began with Madam Hooch, their teacher, instructing everyone to stand by a broomstick, stick their right hands over their brooms, and say “up”.

“Up!” shouted all twenty students.

Holly’s broom, an old knobby looking thing, floated into her hand almost like a feather. When she looked around, she found that Harry had a twiggy looking one, firmly gripped in his hand tightly. Tracey’s broom, a stubby thing, was shaking in her grip, but she was laughing so Holly wasn’t too concerned. Daphne had not managed to call her broom from it’s place in the grass, and neither had Hermione or Neville. Draco held his with a smirk as if he were entirely convinced that only he had managed to get a broom off the ground.

Madam Hooch instructed them on how to mount their brooms without risk of falling off, then came around to inspect their grips. When she came around to Draco and told him he’d been holding his broom wrong all his life, Holly, Tracey, Blaise, and most of Gryffindors laughed, which earned them a glare from their teacher, but cost them no points.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -”

Madam Hooch stopped counting when Neville Longbottom floated off the ground and began to rise straight up.

“Come back, boy!” Madam Hooch demanded, but it was no use, because the moment Nevile looked down, he fell straight off the broom and landed on his arm twenty feet bellow. Their teacher ran over to check him, helped him up, and turned to the rest of the class. “None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’ Come on, dear.” she led Neville inside.

Draco immediately burst out laughing. “Did you see his face? The great lump?” most of Holly’s house joined in, laughing along and calling Neville names behind his back. Holly was a firm believer that any name calling should be done in front of peoples faces, so they can at least try to defend themselves.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” said one of the Patil twins. Holly could not tell you which was which beyond the house they were in.

“Ooh, Sticking up for Longbottom?” Pansy sneered. “Never thought you’d like fat little cry babies, Parvati.”

“He’s still less of a pig than you,” Tracey spat.

Pansy snarled back at her, but Draco called out, “Look! It's that stupid thing Longbottoms gran sent him.” before she could say a word. They all turned to see Draco holding the remembrall he’d tried to steal from Neville at breakfast that morning, glinting like silver in the sun.

“Give that here, Malfoy.”

Holly looked to see her brother starring Draco down, jaw set and ready for a fight.

“I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?” Draco said, with a horrible sort of smile. He grabbed his broom and pushed off the ground, rising easily to the treeline or a little above.

“Give it here!” Harry yelled, saddling his broom.

“Come and get it, Potter!” Draco taunted fro the air above them.

“No!” Hermione shouted at Harry. “Madam Hooch told us not to move - you’ll get us all into trouble.”

Harry ignored her, and took flight.

Holly very calmly set down her broom, and walked over to a dry spot in the grass, where she sat and began to plot. So far, her success in classes had only served to drive a wedge between her and her brother, so much so that now he was willing to risk expulsion - risk leaving her completely without him.

Absolutely not.

By the time Harry had won the remembrall back from Draco and landed securely on the ground, Holly had decided on how she’d get back at him. She was just starting to check her Charms textbook for something that could help her along to her goal, when Professor McGonagall came running out of the building.

This was it. Harry was getting sent home!

“HARRY POTTER!” she shouted. Actually shouted. Holly had never thought that McGonagall would raise her voice if she was mad. She must have been furious! “Never - in all my time at Hogwarts -” she began, nearly speechless with rage. “- how dare you - might have broken your neck -”

“It wasn’t his fault, Professor-”

“Be quiet, Miss Patil-”

“But Malfoy-”

“That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now.”

Holly abandoned her plans. What good were they anyway if he was gone? She did make sure to tuck them into her bag though, lest Draco and his goons find them and steal her idea just for laughs after Harry's been sent home. “Are you alright?”

When Holly looked up, it was Daphne she found, holding out a hand to help her up. Holly took it and let her housemate help her to her feet. “I’ll be fine.” she said, though, she really didn’t feel it.

“Some people put their own impulsiveness over success,” Daphne said, softly. Holly didn’t miss the way she looked not at the Gryffindors, but at Draco when she said it. “It’s a shame about your brother though, Holly.”

Holly dusted herself off. “Yeah,” she agreed, “thanks.”

Daphne nodded, and headed back over to the Slytherins, most of whom were too busy laughing about their success to even notice Daphne had left them at all. Holly found Tracey in the crowd of Gryffindors, chatting with Ron and Parvati worriedly. Though she didn’t particularly want to talk to anyone else right then, she found herself walking over to them anyway.

“You don’t really think he’ll be sent home, do you?” Parvati was whispering.

“Not without sending Malfoy home, and that’ll never happen. His father’s too powerful. He’ll probably have detention into next year though, and I’ll bet we’ve lost any chance at the house cup…” Said Ron, miserably.

“Ron’s right,” said Tracey, looking at Holly as though trying to convince her. “It’s like Daphne said, Draco’s father owns most of the school board. If he can’t be sent home, Harry can’t either.”

Holly looked more at her feet than at her friends. “I hope so,” she whispered.