Potions and Mistakes
“Not like that.”
Harry tried to explain this for the fifth time in a row. Even Hedwig gave him a pitying look.
For some godforsaken reason, Harry’s group had all attempted the animagus transformation in their absence. Questionably, Hermione’s form was a frog.
Why? Only God knows.
“You have to think of your human body. Please, Hermione.”
It’s been about fifteen minutes now of Harry rigorously trying to get Hermione to transform back, but it seems she is unable to or does not want to.
“Ribbit.”
The frog has no thought behind its eyes, so unlike Hermione.
Draco emptied another bottle in the corner like a homeless bum, can flying. Harry’s head thumps on his desk.
Sirius opens the door with a crack, peeking in.
“Are we good here guys?”
No one answers except for the frog, ribbiting.
Sirius pushes open the door fully with his foot, hands full. He holds a muggle pizza box, frog sitting atop.
“Oh, you guys found another frog! How exciting, Hermione’s been looking for a test subject.”
The frog on Sirius’ pizza box nods.
Harry had been talking to a normal frog this entire time.
Defeated, Harry becomes deadweight and rolls off of his chair onto the floor.
——
Things have been going well for Voldemort.
His impending reign will cast a pall of glory that will shroud this entire world, binding wizard-kind and muggles in an iron clasp as they have no other option but to bow before him.
They will quiver in his malignant grip, having to lick his nonexistent shoes for forgiveness for being born.
“I must confess, your usefulness has completely taken me aback.”
Ollivander sat in his cage, not frightened but instead baffled by the current happenings.
Voldemort, instead of tying him up and transporting him as normal a prisoner, has locked him in a giant bird cage, rolling him around the Malfoy Manor.
“And then he said no? Can you believe it!? The audacity! Similar to the others, he failed to live up to expectations. That’s when I decided, his eyes were no longer necessary for him to posses.”
Voldemort had begun using him as his own personal therapist.
The only person to ever listen to the woes of Tom Riddle is doing so against his own will.
Ollivander has no choice, nodding along to whatever goes through the Dark Lord’s head.
At the very least, he is being fed and let out to use the bathroom on occasion.
—
Draco Malfoy is a Black, genetic insanity runs through his veins.
At least, that’s his excuse for having a slapping fight with his reflection in the mirror last night.
Draco is not coping too well.
To wash away his pitiful family sorrows, he has turned into a mild alcoholic. Mild.
Mild alcoholism and Dumbledore’s insanity don’t go well hand in hand.
He has Draco practicing his aim drunk, trying to hit the dummy targets out in the forest.
Draco sees double, mistakenly striking Fawkes again, poor bird instantly going bald. Hedwig, right next to him, squawks out a laughter sound.
Dumbledore takes off his pink glove to wipe the sweat forming on his wrinkly forehead, waving at the newcomers as they get closer as though it’s any other day in the world.
“Uh… sir…?”
Harry’s mouth gapes open and closed like a fish. Ron and Hermione blink.
Are they supposed to ignore the fact that his flesh is rotting?
“Children, I need someone to sacrifice themselves as a human target for the sake of science!”
They ignore both him and his rotting flesh, turning around and pretending that they never saw him.
“Where are you going?” Dumbledore tried to point at them accusingly.
Dumbledore’s finger sags sadly and limply, barely holding on.
—
Harry has his nose buried in a book nowadays, inspired to learn more after spending a whole summer doing nonstop research and discovering that hey, reading can actually be kind of fun.
One book specifically.
An old book dug out from a cupboard with notes from “The Half-Blood Prince.”
This information is so good that Harry could kiss whoever wrote it.
(On an errand for his Dark Lord, Severus Snape gets random goosebumps, shivering despite being in a warm building. He feels threatened.)
Trusting his friends full heartedly, he shares the information.
Perhaps that was a mistake.
Harry lies on the ground paralyzed, three wizards and one owl peering down at his form.
Ron gently kicks at him. “Is he still alive?”
Hermione pulls him back. “Ronald Weasley, do not kick your friend who you have turned into a heap on the floor!”
Another cauldron in the back bubbles over, green glittery mist expanding outwards.
Amidst the now forming argument, Draco slides his hand into his pocket, taking out an old water bottle to discreetly sip from. His water bottle does not contain water.
Harry remains on the floor, unmoving but eyes wide open.
Hedwig’s always been jealous of Harry’s long lashes. Now would be a good time to pluck them all out.
“Hheeh-“
It’s okay Harry, Hedwig’s got you.
(Two weeks later, Draco would misinterpret potion ingredients due to his inebriated state, creating a love potion.
When Ron turns to look at him with those lovesick eyes, Draco recoils in pure disgust, fearing for his own safety.
Between a mad, genuis teenage girl in love and a love-sicken ginger, Draco has to beg Hedwig for protection.)
—
When Harry and Hermione travel up to Dumbledore’s office later that week to report potion experiment results, the door is already open a crack.
Looking at each other warily, they take a step forward to peek in.
Like a jumpscare, Dumbledore appears right behind the door, getting two identical girlish screams out of the teens.
“Hello!”
“…Hedwig?”
Hedwig sits on Dumbledore’s shoulder, bloody and looking eerily gleeful. Both Harry and Hermione’s eyes travel downwards.
“…”
Leaving the results for another day, the two quickly make their escape down the steps, nearly tripping in the process.
“Why, that sure was odd, wasn’t it?”
Dumbledore pets Hedwig with his bloody nub, hand down to the forearm completely missing, no rotting flesh left to be seen.
“Ah, to be a child once more.”
Dumbledore chuckles, his new and improved whimsical cape blowing from the muggle fan hitting it.