Back in the Newt Race
Monday, September 2nd, 1996
“It really is quite a gorgeous design,” Pansy reached her hand forward to take the long wand out of Draco’s hand but he jerked it back, glaring at her, “And will probably take some getting use to.” She combated, glaring at him too so that he stuck his tongue out at her back.
“I think it’s brilliant, Draco,” Gregory said, beaming at the stick and his friend holding it. “Dumbledore gave you his wand. That’s cool, right?” Draco nodded, running his thumbs over the intricate runes running down the wood and nodding.
“Yeah, I think it is Greg…”
They were headed to breakfast, and, being at school and able to cast magic now, Draco had chosen to show off his wand to his friends and give it a go. Unfortunately, a simple cast of ‘lumos’ in the Common Room had blinded them all for a few seconds before he practically screamed ‘nox’ but they had nevertheless found the thing to be quite interesting.
“It certainly is strange,” Theodore commented, frowning at the stick as they stopped before the doors, prepared to depart for their separate tables - which really just meant separate friend groups at this point. “Why you, of all people? Surely - no offense but - why not Potter?” Draco frowned, as he had had the same question himself for a time, but settled on shrugging his shoulders and waving to the boys, calling that they’d meet up in… Some class, as they actually didn’t know how similar their schedules would be this year.
“It’s incredible how good a company Gryffindors can make, don’t you think, Draco?” Pansy asked, smiling as she waved at Parvati and Lavender, girls she’d befriended the year before thanks to the H.O.O.D. When she wasn’t glued to the twins and Lee’s side, that was. “Well, see you… When I see you!” She called to him, leaving Draco to take up his empty seat beside Harry, who instantly turned to grin at him.
“So, Snape’s victorious!” Draco announced, smirking at his groaning Gryffindor friends, Harry's flushed grin falling in seconds. “What do you have to say for yourselves now, huh?”
“Oh come off it, Draco,” Hermione snapped, shoving a forkful of eggs in her mouth and chewing ferociously. “Last year you said if he got the post it would be a sign of the apocalypse.” He simply shrugged his shoulders and innocently stuffed his plate full of eggs and toast, spreading a greedy helping of marmalade across the bread, his favorite. While Harry could get used to Mrs. Weasley’s cooking but still preferred the house-elves, Draco never really could find himself enjoying her food, so used to a life of privilege.
Professor Slughorn, interestingly, came over personally to give Draco his schedule, unlike how McGonagall had simply combined his in the Gryffindor pile last year, though when they glanced along the table they could see how itner-mixed things had become and… well that would hardly be an efficient method. However, Slughorn clearly had looked forward to this as he approached Draco with a grin dazzling his face.
“Mr. Malfoy,” He said, sounding out the name and Draco raised his eyebrows, slightly cautious by the hungry look in the man’s small, beady eyes. “Yes… sir?” “I apologize for not giving you an invitation on the train,” He now presented his schedule smoothly with the same grandiose as if he was giving him the invitation, a day late. “But I was cautious to accept any children of Death Eater’s into my little ‘Slug Club,’ you must understand. Can’t have any -” He caught himself off with a slight hesitated look in his eye, then firmly shook his head and was back to grinning, saying, “But then I saw your history and my, my! We all know you won the Triwizard Tournament of course, the youngest ever to do so, might I add, but you have six ‘O’s and four ‘EE’s on your O.W.L.’s?” Draco nodded, now feeling his cheeks start to heat up. “You are the only Seeker to beat Harry Potter without foul play involved?” Another nod, and more heat. “And I hear, quite technically, you are not a son of a Death Eater as rumor has it,” He leaned in quite close to whisper behind his hand, “You’ve been disowned?”
Draco’s face fell. How did he know? Had it gotten put in the prophet? Did someone see him in the streets of Diagon Alley with the Weasley’s, no Malfoy’s in sight, and draw conclusions themselves? How well known was it?
“Well let’s just say,” said Slughorn, leaning back, bouncing on the balls of his feet and grinning brightly. “I’ll be keeping a close eye on you. And, if you see,” He leaned closer to tap on the new subject at the bottom of Draco’s schedule, “I’ve taken the liberty of adding Alchemy, an elective N.E.W.T. course, as I got a shining report from Professor Snape on your skills in Potions.” He winked, then turned and walked away in stride, handing off schedules to the other Slytherins sitting at the Gryffindor table.
“What was that about?” Ron blurted out into the silence as Draco frowned and opened up his schedule to look at what he had lined up, which was exactly what he had expected given what he had signed up for; Everything but Ancient Runes and Astronomy. Now he quite regretted dropping Runes, however, as it might have helped to explain to him what layered Dumbledore’s wand.
“Harry!” They turned and saw Hagrid was now lumbering towards them, holding a couple of schedules in his large hands, grinning as he looked down at the Quartet, by far his favorite students. “Septima let me give yeh yer schedules, but I just wanted ter wish yeh a great firs’ day!” He handed out Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s schedules. “Here yeh are, all of yeh. I hope I’ll be seeing you lot in Care of Magical Creatures?” He gave them a wink with one of his beady eyes, before continuing to pass out schedules behind them. However, when Draco turned away from waving to the big oaf, he saw that his Gryffindor friends were all looking at their plates, seemingly quite downhearted.
“What is it?” He asked, but got no answer, as they had begun to talk among themselves.
“You aren’t taking Care of Magical Creatures, are you?” Harry asked his best friends and, to Draco’s horror, they both shook their heads. Worse, Harry did as well, “Me neither…”
“Well what did he expect? That we liked it -”
“Yes!” Draco interrupted Hermione, glaring at them all. “Because you did! Harry, you loved the unicorns, right? Just because he wasn’t there much last year doesn’t mean Hagrid -”
“Oh come off it, Malfoy,” Ron said, frowning at him, “You can’t tell me you seriously enjoyed Care? You almost died on the first day -” Draco waved a hand to silence him, saying simply, “We don’t speak of that!” before turning to Harry, his last chance, pressing his hands together and pleading, “Please, Pots, tell me you liked it. You got an ‘O,’ didn’t you?”
“Only because you were a great tutor,” Harry admitted, shrugging his shoulders, and leaving Draco to drop his hands onto his lap, horrified.
“Well you’re all - just - Ugh!” Draco stood up, slinging his bag over her shoulder and glaring at them all in turn. “Well, in case any of you come to your senses and change your minds, I’ll be by the lake, practicing using this devil of a thing,” He raised Dumbledore’s wand, glaring at it too for good measure. “Until then, farewell.” He nodded to them curtly, spun on his heel and was off.
Harry watched him stomp off for a sad sorry moment, before filling a tap of wood on his shoulder and turning to look up, surprised to find Professor McGonagall looking down at him, one penciled eyebrow raised.
“Potter,” He tilted his head, smiling innocently up at her. “Yes, Professor?” She sighed, shaking her head, and quietly picked up his schedule and eyed it up and down. “Where, do tell me, is Potions on this list?” She showed it to him and he frowned at it and shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t want it.”
“You didn’t - Is it no longer your ambition to become an Auror, is that it?” Harry frowned because, honestly, he didn’t know what his ambitions really were with a deadly prophecy hanging over his head that said he’d better kill Voldemort before he kills him or the world will end, but an Auror still seemed… appealing. Maybe… Possibly… He certainly didn’t know what he’d like to do other than that.
“Yes, I suppose,” He decided to say, then, as if half-heartedly searching for a way out of this he blurted, “but I didn’t buy the books or any ingredients or anything -”
“I'm sure Professor Slughorn will be able to lend you some," said Professor McGonagall. “Very well, Potter, here is your schedule. And, while I’m here, I’ll let you know that twenty names have already been added for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Professor Jones will pass the list to you in due course and you can fix up trials at your leisure.” She handed back his schedule, which she’d adjusted to now, unfortunately, including Potions with Slughorn, and stepped back to turn to Neville and any other students in need of assistance, doing what Hagrid had not.
Harry looked over at Ron, who had just been cleared by McGonagall to take the same subjects as he, and was glowering at him for forcing him to add on Potions, but Harry paid him no mind, as an idea had come to him.
“Professor!” He called out and McGonagall halted, turning to raise an eyebrow up at him. He leaned across the table to hold out his schedule towards her, smiling hopefully. “Could you… Add Care of Magical Creatures please?” His smile turned quite lopsided. “I changed my mind.” He explained with a shrug and she sighed but took the schedule and, with a tap of her wand, had added Care to it.
As he sat back down it was to find Ron and Hermione shaking their heads at him, but he ignored them. How could they understand why he’d done this for Draco, when he hardly did himself?
-*-*-*-
He and Ron had empty periods until after lunch, when, as he watched him leave the Hall looking as grumpy as before, Harry ran to catch up with Draco heading for Care, and Ron rolled his eyes as he watched him go.
“Draco!” The boy came to a halt at the entrance, turning to frown as he saw Harry running towards him, but turning curious when he saw the bag slung over his shoulder, opening enough to reveal The Monster Book of Monsters and Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them. “What’re you…” Draco’s eyes found the books then moved up to Harry’s lopsided grin. “Doing?”
“I’m taking Care!” He announced and Draco scoffed, smirked, and turned on his heel to continue down the path but mostly to hide the relief flooding his face. “Can’t get away from me, can you?” He settled for joking, bumping shoulders with Harry as they walked and causing the latter to laugh. Though it sounded more like a giggle, which was honestly mortifying.
“So, how are you doing with that wand?” Draco stopped short, grumpily tearing the long stick out of his robes sleeve and pointing it at a bush, which instantly lit with flames then exploded after two seconds with a shout of, ‘finite!’ Harry winced, raising an eyebrow, “Bad, I take it?”
“I just don’t understand it. I’m no master of Magical Theory, believe me, but aren’t spells supposed to work better if you put more power into them? The more I pour into this thing, the worse it gets.” He marched over to kick at the ashes and twigs that remained of the bush for good measure, all the while Harry eyed the long piece of wood in his friend’s hand.
Slowly he stepped forwards and took his hand, bring it up so that it was level with another nearby bush and, overcome with the same rush of mentorship he always had back in the Room of Requirement, training up his members of the H.O.O.D, he whispered in Draco’s ear, “Try it again but softer. Trust me.” He was so consumed in his element of teaching, he didn’t even notice how the blonde began to turn pink.
“Finite,” Draco whispered, aiming for lighting just the tip of the bush on fire and using as little effort as possible, feeling quite like a meager first year but when he did, the spell performed exactly as he asked it to, and he grinned happily, turning to show that grin to proud Harry who high fived him.
“See? The wand’s probably super powerful, so you just have to get used to not putting as much effort into it for simple spells.” He explained as Draco slipped it back up his sleeve, adjusted the strap on his bag, and continued to trudge down the grass, saying, “I think I’ll stick to my own wand for now but… thanks.” He said sincerely, smiling, and Harry felt his own face heat up before he coughed harshly into his fist and nodded stiffly. “Of course.”
They had reached Hagrid’s Hut where, as usual for class, they found him bent over in his fenced off plot of land where his creatures were kept, tending to something or other. When he stood and turned and saw the pair of boys coming, his beard moved under the bright sunlight and they could tell he was grinning. He opened the gate and stepped up to clap both boys on the backs hard, saying, “I knew yeh’d come, Harry! Hermione came down in her free period ter apologize fer dropping the class. Her and Ron. Traitorous buggers, but I still got you two.” He beamed down and Harry and Draco, who grinned back, Harry a little more forced as he craned his neck behind the half-giant to see what he was in for.
Hagrid quickly sidestepped, raising his eyebrows testily. “No peeking, Harry, it’s a surprise as always. Hey, you two just wait here for a moment, grab some seats.” He gestured to the line of chairs Hagrid had clearly set up for the class behind them, and Harry and Draco both sat down beside each other, dropping their bags on the grass and waiting patiently as Hagrid turned and whistled.
The trees began to rustle and Hagrid walked forward, calling back to them, “Now don’t get hasty, Malfoy, I promise he won’t hurt yer.” Draco raised his eyebrows high, looking between Harry and Hagrid and whispering, “He?”
He got his answer within seconds, when the trees parted as a great winged beast broke through them, brilliantly gray, with the body of a chicken crossed with a horse. Instantly, Draco had hopped out his seat and was waving his arms as Buckbeak lowered himself to the ground, stomping his feet in it and eyeing the boy dangerously with his gleaming gold eyes.
“Now - Wait - Hagrid - Professor - I don’t -”
“I said don’t get hasty,” Hagrid unclipped a dead ferret from his belt and tossed it over to the Hippogriff, who happily scarfed it down. “I think I know why he doesn’t like yeh. Yeh see -”
“How is this legal?” Draco blurted, now having ducked behind his chair, gripping it with knuckles turned yellow as Harry laughed jovially. Hagrid waved a hand, not showing any mind to being interrupted at all.
“Well we rechristened him, yeh see. He’s ol’ ‘Witherwings’ now, so the Ministry can’t execute him.” Draco blinked with eyes wide as saucers, horrified. “Anyhow, I think he doesn’t like yeh cuz yeh look like a ferret,” Hagrid fed him another of the dead animals. “And he loves eating ferrets, yeh see.”
“Oh…” Draco gulped once more, now shivering profusely. “How… wonderful…”
“I think you’re being dramatic, Draco,” Harry said, standing from his seat to walk over and bow to ‘Witherwings,’ who gladly did the same, and petting him on the nose. “He’s quite magnificent when you give him a chance.”
“Oh yes,” Draco nodded. “He certainly -” He cut himself off, as both Hagrid and Harry had turned and were eyeing him with narrowed eyes of warning, so instead he rolled his eyes and stood to shaking feet, plopping down in his seat to grumble, “Certainly ‘magnificent.’” Buckbeak snapped his beak happily.
“Buckbeak!” They turned and saw that the remaining students choosing to take the Care of Magical Creatures N.E.W.T were running towards them; Susan Bones at the front, beaming as she clearly was the one who had shouted out ‘Buckbeak,’ followed by Seamus and Dean, shoulder to shoulder and looking curious as to what was in store, with Theodore bringing up the rear.
As the Gryffindors joined Harry in petting Buckbeak Draco crossed his arms to eye Theo up and down curiously. “What are you doing here?” He asked and sneered when all he got was, “You sound like Pansy.” from him in response before the Nott boy too marched over to pet Buckbeak.
“Well this here seems like a nice crowd,” Hagrid said to them all once they’d resumed their seats and Buckbeak had sat across the grass tiredly, exhausted from the petting, no doubt. He smacked the fence open with one large hand, announcing the beast they’d be meeting just in time with a, “Today we’ll be learning about Jackalopes!” before a group of ten jack rabbits with the antlers of antelopes sprouting out of their heads, in between their ears, came leaping out of the fenced off garden.
“Now I assure you, they are no more harmless than a crup or kneazle, though in mating season they do get a kick out of driving their antlers into their prey in front of the lady Jackalopes.” Hagrid gave a jovial laugh here, earning a cautious eyebrow raise from Seamus. He cleared his throat awkwardly and kneeled down, pulled a carrot out from within the large sack hung over his shoulder.
“Like rabbits, they prefer herbs, however they are omnivores, despite their heritage chiefly preferring plants. They are among the most picky of interbred species in that regard. They’re more common in the Americas, where some say they’re hunted for sport,” Again Hagrid barked a laugh saying, “Those Americans, right?” to which Susan giggled and Seamus, Dean, and Harry smirked. His chest swelled with pride at the response from the joke. “Nevertheless I got this herd here from a friend of mine in the mountains,” he gave Harry a wink and he felt a sinking feeling Hagrid had gotten the Jackalopes from giants. “And I think you’ll find them quite nice.”
He stood and walked over to a display of baskets full of various vegetables and meats and crossed his hands behind his back. “Now, as I said, they’re picky. Only two of these foods are something they’ll all scarf down. The first person to feed all of them both foods wins…” He threw his hands up. “Well they win nothing but it’ll be fun!”
This proved to be a lot harder than Hagrid made it appear, as it took many minutes for the kids to realize the Jackalopes were so persistent on running away from them because they kept being fed the wrong foods, and once they were spooked by the first kid, they got spooked by everybody, so the real trick was learning what to do to not scare them. Eventually Draco kneeled down before the last Jackalope to feed it a turnip, and was declared the winner, minutes before class had ended.
“That was a lot more fun than I expected,” Seamus said after they heard the bell ring faintly and he was forced to lift the Jackalope he was petting off his lap and set it down. “Could we do it again tomorrow?” Dean asked and Hagrid smiled. “Next class you mean,” He corrected but nodded, “But I don’t see why not.” They all let out whoops and cheers at that, and happily headed back up to the castle, grinning before they all realized they had Defense Against the Dark Arts next… With Snape.
“So how was N.E.W.T. level Care?” Ron asked as Harry and Draco met up with him and Hermione outside of the DADA classroom. “Nearly kill yourself yet?” Hermione slapped him on the arm, though it was harder this time as she had to reach around her arms full of books.
“Actually, surprisingly, no.” Draco said but Harry rudely interrupted with, “But he nearly did. Buckbeak’s back.” He whispered the last part in case unwanted ears were listening and grinned along with Ron and Hermione, much to Draco’s annoyance.
Then the door opened, and Snape stepped out, as if he was floors below in the dungeons, not the sunlit DADA corridor. “Inside,” he said sternly to the crowd of students, who anxiously piled in.
As every new Professor had, Snape had made the well reused classroom his own, and it almost came as a relief after so many dull days being watched by Umbridge, but only almost. The curtains were drawn so there was only the warmth of candlelight, much like how the Potions classroom had been, and he’d lined the walls with pictures, as Gilderoy Lockhart had, but not of himself, instead showing people with injuries or ailments. It all created an eerie atmosphere that made them all shiver into their seats.
Almost robotically, half the class reached for their bags, and a good deal more followed, as they had within every DADA class last year, to remove their books. But, releasing great sighs, Snape told them coldly, “I have not asked you to take out your books,” from the back of the room. He closed the door, and strode up along their desks to turn and face them from behind it. “I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention.”
As always, when he looked over at the crowd of faces, his eyes remained trained on Harry’s a second longer than anyone else’s. “You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe.”
Harry allowed himself a smirk because, honestly, after six years he had given up on pleasing Snape, as he thought, you believe… like you haven’t watched them all come and go, hoping you’d be next.
“Naturally, these teachers all had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject,” Harry, not giving a damn about this speech, to be honest, turned in his seat, making an effort to make it scrape against the wood, and nodded as he looked out across the familiar faces around him, knowing he’d taught every one of them in the Hogwarts Order of Defense, which was exactly why they had passed. Some even raised their heads to nod to him as a sort of ‘thanks’ and Draco gave him a soft punch in the shoulder.
“I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be more advanced.” Snape then said seriously, narrowing his eyes at the pair of boys before sweeping around the edge of the room.
He was speaking lower now, more eerily, and as he moved, the class turned their heads to follow his every word with his movement. “The Dark Arts,” said Snape, “are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible.
“Your defense,” Snape’s voice was gradually getting louder. Harry smirked at the idea that he’d rehearsed this. “must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures” - he indicated a few of them as he swept past - “give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse,” Draco and Neville both recoiled when he gestured to a picture of a witch screaming in agony, the former having felt and the latter imagined it too well. “feel the Dementor’s Kiss,” Harry winced, knowing the wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed could’ve easily been Sirius, “or provoke the aggression of the Inferius,” Everyone felt bile rise in their throats at the picture of a bloody mass lying on the ground.
“Has an Inferius been seen, then?” Parvati Patil asked, quiet and high pitched. “Is it definite, is he using them?”
“The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now…” He continued as if she hadn’t spoken and walked along the opposite wall. “... you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?”
Hermione’s hand shot into the air, and Harry held Draco’s from raising just to spite Snape, and had a feeling many were doing the same, as it was unlikely she was the only one who didn’t know. “Very well - Miss Granger?
“Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you’re about to perform, which gives you a split-second advantage.”
“An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six,” as Snape said this Draco leaned over to whisper in Harry’s ear, “He beat me by one second,” and caused him to snicker. “but correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress in using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some,” To Harry’s horror, Snape’s eyes drifted back to Harry. “Lack.”
Okay, so he was rubbish at Occlumency, but that didn’t change the fact that he was still a professional in Defense… almost.
“You will now divide,” Snape turned back to looking at them all. “into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on.”
This proved to be, to Snape’s chagrin, absolutely easy. Everyone in this class had been taught by Harry - with the exception of maybe, Megan Jones or Roger Malone, students he’d never even spoken to that more so hanged in the background of his life - and everyone had therefore learned the Shield Charm, and even learned to cast it nonverbally as Draco had been taught to by Barty Crouch Jr.
What resulted was everyone repelling the jinxes smoothly - maybe a bit more effort was required for some - and others cheated by casting jinxes in soft whispers. However, if Snape noticed the cheating, or the fact that people were doing exactly what he asked flawlessly and kept looking for some crumb of approval as he paced throughout the classroom, he did not show it until about ten minutes in when he stopped at Hermione and Ron, the latter of which was now flinging his wand wildly at his girlfriend in an attempt to sneak a spell through that she couldn’t deflect, and that he could actually produce without saying the incantation. So far, he’d made less than half of the jinxes he was firing appear without words, and it was garnering a fair share of attention from the partners around him.
“Pathetic, Weasley,” Snape sneered after about a minutes watching, now gaining even more attention from the class. “Here - let me show you -”
Harry, who had been noticing how the sunlight gleamed against Draco’s hair for no particular reason at all, was taken aback so much from Snape’s fast turning of his wand onto him that he reacted only instinctively and threw up his wand in the slashing motion of the spell and bellowed, “Protego!”
What resulted was one of his best Shield Charm’s yet, strong enough to make Snape stumble and fall back against the desk behind him. This of course meant every pair of eyes in the classroom were turned on him as he stood straight to scowl at Harry, who was blinking innocently at him.
“Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?”
“Yes,” He said quite stiffly, for he was suppressing a harsh eyeroll.
“Yes, sir.”
Harry locked eyes with him, tilted his head, and with the ghost of a smirk on his face, ignoring Hermione’s instant head shake behind Snape’s head, he said, “There's no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.”
Within seconds there were gasps, ‘ooh’s, and thumbs up or grins flashed in his direction and Harry couldn’t help but feel pretty on top of the world himself at the look on Snape’s face, but the joy was momentary.
“Detention, Saturday night, my office,” said Snape. “I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter… not even ‘the Chosen One.’” He certainly knew exactly what he was doing with that comment as now the eyes of the classroom didn’t leave Harry for a good couple of minutes, even as they all turned back to continue practicing nonverbal spells.
“That was brilliant, Harry!” Ron said almost immediately after they left the class and pushed their way out of the crowd and out of the way of prying eyes. Hermione came to stand beside her boyfriend and take his hand but frowned up at him all the same as she said, “You really shouldn't have said it,” she looked at Harry, frowning sincerely. “What made you?”
“He tried to jinx me, in case you didn’t notice!” Harry spat, glaring at the floor. “I had enough of that during those Occlumency lessons! Why doesn’t he use another guinea pig for a change? What’s McGonagall playing at? I get it, they’re…” He rolled his eyes. “‘Friends’ I suppose, but she shouldn’t she know why Dumbledore didn’t let him teach Defense? Did you hear him talking about the Dark Arts? He loves them! All that unfixed, indestructible stuff -”
“Harry…” He turned to look at Draco, afraid his friend might actually try to defend Snape, but his voice had sounded soft and, he realized after seeing the endearing look on his face, that couldn’t be the case. “You know you do that too, right?”
“What?”
“Thank you!” Hermione said, gesturing to Draco then giving Harry the same smile of disbelief she always did when he showed oblivious to how important he was and the things he’d done were. “When you were telling us what it’s like to face Voldemort you said it wasn’t just memorizing a bunch of spells, you said it was just you and your brains and your guts - well, wasn’t that what Snape was saying? That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking?”
“I believe you said, and I quote, ‘like you can think straight when you know you’re about a nanosecond from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die,’” Draco smirked at Harry, who felt knocked off his feet with the surprise of hearing how Draco had thought his words worth memorizing to a tee, then Hermione said, “Yes, yes, that’s exactly it. And in the first meeting in the Hog’s Head you said something about this all being real life with people dying in real ways; not a circus show.” How good of a teacher had he been that she’d memorized him like The Standard Book of Spells?
“And then you said ‘I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to be modest or anything.’” And it was beyond him to understand why Draco cared so much to quote him word for word.
“Harry! Hey, Harry!” His thoughts were interrupted by someone calling his name, however, and he looked around him, almost grateful for a distraction, and saw Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters Angelina had gotten last year to replace Fred and George, was now running towards him.
“Listen,” the boy said, panting for air - he’d clearly ran all the way here - and holding his hands out like they were in a negotiation. “I heard you’re the new Captain. When’re you holding trials?”
Harry frowned as he had already been approached by Katie Bell about this up in the common room with Ron earlier in the day, and he hadn’t even truly gotten used to the badge on his chest stating he was Quidditch Captain. “I’m not sure yet,” he settled for saying. “I’ll let you know.”
“Oh, right. I was hoping it’d be this weekend -” Sloper shrugged his shoulders, smart enough to tell Harry clearly didn’t have anything more to say to him, and backed off mid-sentence, waving. “Well, I’ll see you at trials!” he called and then disappeared in the crowd.
“Still can’t believe you got made Captain,” Draco scoffed and Harry smirked over at him, raising an eyebrow to make a jab of, “Jealous?” back at him, as Draco scowled. “Of course not. I’m a Captain too, you know.”
They had reached, at last, the dungeons, where they had for so long taken potions with Snape but would now have their first double Potions class with Slughorn. The door, curiously, was already open, something none of the Quartet was used to as Snape had always been quite forward in keeping it firmly shut, but nevertheless they walked in and dropped their bags beside their seats at their usual table in the back of the classroom.
Only a dozen people had progressed to N.E.W.T. level. There were three other Slytherin’s including Draco’s friend from Care - Theodore - as well as Pansy and Blaise Zabini, and one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan. There were also four Ravenclaws; Padma Patil, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, and, much to Harry’s annoyance as a familiar spike of jealousy prodded his insides, Anthony Goldstein.
There was nothing particularly wrong about Anthony, and in fact Harry had probably been the git in the equation to date Cho out of spite, though he had a sinking suspicion Draco did the same, in the reverse, amplified by how when the two saw each other they gave the other an awkward nod and wave, as Harry had been doing to Cho whenever he saw her, before they had made up on the train and chosen to remain friends. Whatever it was, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to make up with the Ravenclaw, however, or Draco, for that matter, as if there wasn’t a rumor going round that Anthony had gotten jealous of his closeness to Draco and broken it off, then the rumor was Draco had done it to focus more time on killing Dumbledore. Harry knew not to ask and be rude, however.
“Harry,” Ernie was marching towards him, hand outstretched, and Harry gladly took it, thankful for the distraction and because, if he was being honest, he liked Ernie, even if he was a little pompous. “didn’t get a chance to speak in Defense Against The Dark Arts this morning. Good lesson, I thought, but Shield Charms are old hats, of course, for us old H.O.O.D. lags… And how are you, Ron, Draco, Hermione?” He dragged a seat over from another table to sit with the Quartet but, before Ron, Draco, or Hermione could respond, Slughorn called the class into session.
“Now then, now then, now then,” said Slughorn. “Scales out, everyone, and potions kits, and don’t forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making…”
“Sir?” Harry raised his hand and Draco smirked across the table at him as he and Ron both looked over at Slughorn guiltily.
“Harry, m’boy?”
“I haven’t got a book or scales or anything - nor’s Ron - we didn’t realize we’d be able to do the N.E.W.T, you see -”
“Ah yes, Professor McGonagall told me… not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we’ve got a small stock of old books here, they’ll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts…”
Slughorn strode to his aforementioned store cupboard and returned to the Quartet (and Ernie’s) table with two copies of Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage that appeared to be so battered and worn, Harry feared he’d open them and the pages would crumble, along with two sets of rusty tarnished scales.
“Now then,” said Slughorn, gesturing to all of the cauldrons that were sitting on each of their tables. “I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of things you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of ‘em, even if you haven't made ‘em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?” He gestured to the table where the three Slytherin’s other than Draco had sat.
Peering over the heads of other students, Harry could see a substance that simply looked like boiling water inside this silver cauldron, but of course, Hermione knew the answer and had her hand raised in seconds.
“It’s Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth,” She proclaimed and Slughorn beamed. “Very good, very good! Now,” He pointed at the bronze cauldron on the Ravenclaw table. “this one here is pretty well known… Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too… Who can - ?”
“It’s Polyjuice Potions, sir,” came Hermione’s answer, but only because of her hand flying in the air, as any Gryffindor at their table would recognize the muddy substance Hermione herself had brewed over the course of a month in their second year.
“Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here… yes, my dear?” Slughorn’s grin had turned a little bemused when Hermione's hand rose before he finished speaking, but he pointed at her all the same.
“It’s Amortentia!” Harry leaned closer to their own cauldron, which had a pink liquid with a shimmery sheen across it inside. When Harry leaned closer he was met with a seductive scent that mesmerized him; Treacle tart… but at the same time the wood of a new broomstick… and a vanilla scent he recalled smelling in several different places, always right beside him. But where…?
“It seems foolish to ask,” Slughorn continued, folding his arms and looking at Hermione with mild impressedness. “but I assume you know what it does?”
“It’s the most powerful love potion in the world!” Harry jerked back away from it instantly, and he wasn’t the only one, as he saw both Ron and Draco had been leaning over the cauldron, seductively smelling it.
“Quire right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?”
“And the steam rising in characteristic spirals,” Hermione started to smile as she ranted. “and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and -” She turned quite pink and cut herself off, eyes darting to Ron who had also turned red. Now Harry really thought hard about where specifically he’d spelled the vanilla, even as it seemed to weave through every one of his memories.
“May I ask your name, my dear?”
“Hermione Granger, sir.”
“Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?” Hermione’s pleasant smile dropped to a frown in a second as she shook her head sadly at him.
“No. I don’t think so, sir. I’m a Muggle-born, you see.”
Slughorn smiled genially. “Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger,” said Slughorn genially. He then turned back to the class to continue, and Hermione turned to look at them with a wide smile and flushed cheeks. She’d never received points for being the smartest in Potions class before, only getting told she was an ‘insufferable know-it-all’ instead. “Amortentia doesn’t really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room - oh yes,” he nodded to Theodore, who was looking at him skeptically. “When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love.
“And now,” said Slughorn, “it is time for us to start work.”
“Sir, you haven’t told us what’s in this one,” Ernie pointed across the room at a small cauldron standing atop Slughorn’s own desk, bubbling and frothing as large drops of liquid gold skipped across its surface, as if alive and happy. Slughorn turned to grin at this particular potion with a light in his eyes, clearly having saved this one for the dramatics.
“Oho! Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it,” He gestured his hand to Hermione who had gasped in surprise at the name. “that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?”
“It’s liquid luck. It makes you lucky!”
With a great deal of scraping from chairs, the students all sat straighter in their seats, gazing at the bubbling gold ‘liquid luck’ with interest now. “Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis. Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed… at least until the effects wear off.”
“Why don’t people drink it all the time, sir?” Terry Boot called from the Ravenclaw table, eyes never leaving the cauldron.
“Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence. Too much of a good thing, you know… highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally…” Slughorn explained.
“Have you ever taken it, sir?” Michael Corner asked, he, too, keeping his eyes trained on the potion.
“Twice in my life,” said Slughorn. “Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect days.” He smiled faintly at the distance and the students leaned ever closer to the potion with desire. A perfect day… That sort of thing seemed only a dream to Harry.
“And that is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson.” The silence of earnest students was deafening. “One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis,” He retrieved a bottle from his pocket and held it up for them all to see. “Enough for twelve hours’ luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt. Now, I must warn you that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competitions… sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only… and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!”
“So,” Slughorn placed the bottle on his desk beside the cauldron and clapped his hands together jollily. “How are you to win this fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!”
Harry had never been in a more concentrated atmosphere within Potions class before, but he didn’t blame his fellow students, as he had gotten overwhelmed with a similar level of concentration. A lucky day… He could use it for anything really, as Harry couldn’t recall ever having a perfect or even lucky day in his life.
Feverishly, he flipped through the pages of the tattered book Slughorn had left them, amazed they didn’t crumble to ash at his touch, but instantly annoyed to see the previous owner had scribbled everywhere in black, making the printed text hardly legible. He jealously glanced over at Hermione and Draco’s copies, clean and crisp and new, then at Ron’s which was still old but had no notes scribbled on, just stains and blotches.
He had to squint to read the ingredients, as they were all blotted or crossed out, and hurried to the store cupboard for supplies, relieved as eyes darted around the room at other classmates and not just him, for once. He noticed, particularly, that Draco was chopping his Valerian roots so fast he could barely see the knife.
Within twenty minutes, the concentration hung in the air with a dark bluish steam as the stench of sweat, and Hermione seemed to have progressed the furthest with Draco only minutes behind.
Harry again had to squint at the next direction, screwing his mouth up in a scowl and detesting the previous owner greatly as he could hardly understand a word under the scribbles. Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.
First of all, this person had terrible handwriting, and second, that was the opposite of what it told you to do. Thirdly, who the hell uses a dagger in potions? They were knives, obviously. Who was this written by, Salazar Slytherin himself?
However, within minutes Harry began to glance dodgily at the book because damn it the sopophorus beans were proving very difficult to cut.
“Can I borrow your silver knife?” Draco practically chucked it at him but he still gave it, frowning at his lilac potion for reasons Harry couldn’t understand as that was what the directions said it should look like. “Perfectionist,” he grumbled under his breath and began to crush the beans with the flat side of the knife, nearly dropping it when the bean squirted an astonishing amount of juice.
Smirking, he scooped it up to drop it in the cauldron and saw the potion change to an exact shade of lilac as described, which was just a shade lighter than Draco’s, explaining his pain. The blonde in question did a double take when he saw this and leaned over Harry’s cauldron, nearly knocking over his scales in his surprise.
“How’d you do that?” He demanded and Harry grabbed him by the forehead to push him back down in his seat, reading the next line of instructions while saying dismissively, “Crush them, don’t cut them.” His rudeness was certainly not due to the fact that he’d just smelt the vanilla scent he’d been trying to place from the Amortentia, and simply his determination to get the Felix Felicis. Draco raised an eyebrow in confusion, eyes drifting to the book’s scribbles.
Stir clockwise after every seventh counterclockwise stir. Gets rid of excess cloudiness.
“Who wrote that?” Draco demanded, using the same almost offended voice as before but Harry merely shrugged, picking up his spoon and starting to stir.
He didn’t miss the way Draco sucked in a big breath along with him before stirring once clockwise, but both boys grinned at each other when both of their potions began turning lighter, Draco’s still just a tad darker as he had cut his beans, however.
“How are you doing that?” Hermione now demanded, and the boys looked up to grin and shrug at her, Draco saying, “Dunno, it was Harry -” and Harry instructing, “Add a clockwise stir -”
“No, no, the book says counterclockwise!” She snapped so that it made her frizzing afro bounce and the boys looked at each other, chuckled, and continued to stir seven times counterclockwise, one clockwise. Eventually, both their potions had turned clear as water without any clouds in sight (Draco’s had tiny bubbles clinging to the bottom Harry assumed was from the juice problem) whilst Hermione’s remained purple, Ron’s the color of liquid licorice, Ernie’s a deep navy. It seemed, incredibly, that Harry and Draco had won.
“And time’s… up!” called out Slughorn as several heads jerked up, looking upset, though not as much as Hermione, who seemed on the verge of tears in her exasperation. “Stop stirring, please!”
Harry and Draco were the last cauldrons Slughorn would reach, so they carefully placed their spoons down and waited for him to make his way towards them, watching as he passed cauldron to cauldron, looking stone faced so that one couldn’t tell if he was impressed or not. It became clear no emotion was bad, however, when he gave Ron a rueful smile and Hermione a curt nod, then grinned broadly and clapped his hands together when he stood behind Harry and Draco.
“The clear winners!” He announced, applauding the boys who grinned shyly as he hurried to his desk to split the bottle of Felix Felicis in half between two bottles. “I didn’t expect a tie, no, no, but it appears we have a good bit of talent in this room. Excellent, excellent, both of you! Harry, you must’ve inherited your mother’s talent. She was a dab hand at potions, Lily was! And Draco, I do remember your grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy. Best in his class back in the day. Here you are, then, here you are - one bottle of Felix Felicis, each. Good enough for six hours to each of you, I suppose..” He handed the boys the bottles and leaned in close to wink at them, saying, “Use it well!”
Not trying to hide their grins in the slightest, Harry and Draco pocketed their bottles and began to clear off their tables, trying to enjoy the moment and ignore the way Hermione was glaring at them from across the table and Ron hadn’t moved, blinking owlishly. It took Hermione gently squeezing his shoulder to break him out of his trance and he put his stuff away as well.
As they were leaving the dungeon Ron crept up in between Harry and Draco and whispered, “How did you do that?” sounding astounded.
“Is it that unbelievable that I’m just good at Potions, Bilius?” Draco asked him, but once they’d broken out of earshot of the crowd of students moving towards the Great Hall for dinner (it was five p.m. already) the boys led Ron and Hermione into an empty classroom and they all sat in or on various desks as Harry pulled the tattered copy of Advanced Potion Making out of his bag.
He opened it up and explained to them the different scribbles were the correct directions to making the Draught, and with each word he spoke, Hermione’s glare hardened.
“I s’pose you think I cheated?” He asked once he’d finished, snapping the book shut and folding his arms.
“Well, it wasn’t exactly your own work, was it?” She said, folding her arms but Ron shifted closer to her on their shared desk so that their bodies were now pressed against each other. “He only followed different instructions to ours. Could’ve been a catastrophe, couldn’t it? But he took a risk and it paid off.” He shook his head as he sighed. “Slughorn could’ve handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one’s ever written on. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two, but not anything that would have earned me that Liquid Luck.” He gestured to the boy’s pockets, then frowned at his best friend skeptically. “But why’d you tell Malfoy what to do and not us?”
“He did tell me,” Hermione grumbled, tightening her crossed arms and shifting on the desk. “I just didn’t listen.”
“And I did,” Draco said, “I simply followed the instructions over Harry’s shoulder, Slytherin by trade that I am.” He smirked in ways only Slytherins could but always made Harry’s stomach twist into knots.
He again recalled the vanilla scent from the Amortentia, and could smell it faintly, even now, just beside him, coming from that gleaming hair…
“Well… we should at least check if there’s anything dark on it. You never know, right, with all that’s been happening…” She reached forward and snatched the book off Harry’s lap, to which he yelped his surprise, but she ignored him, instead pointing her wand at it and proclaiming, “Specialis Revelio!”
Nothing whatsoever happened.
“Finished?” Harry asked sarcastically, holding his hand out for the book back. “Or d’you want to wait and see if it does a few backflips?”
“It seems all right,” said Hermione, turning the book around in her hands, opening it, and flipping through its pages. “I mean, it really does seem to be… just a textbook.”
Harry threw his wands up, smirking smugly. “There you have it!” he said but just then she had stopped at the back of the cover and was squinting at it.
“That’s strange…”
“What is it?” Harry asked, now snatching his book back from her and turning to see what she had. It was more of the previous owner's cramped, small handwriting in clean black ink, only this time it had nothing to do with Potions instructions.
This book is property of the Half-Blood Prince.