Twisted Fascination

There were three-hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts. Some were wide and sweeping. Others were narrow and rickety. Others still led somewhere completely different on Fridays. There was also a type of staircase that had a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump over. There were doors that didn't open unless you asked politely or tickled them in just the right place. Of course, there were also doors that weren't even doors, but rather walls that appeared to be doors. The people in portraits also had a habit of moving to other portraits to keep themselves entertained. The only way to tell which portrait was which was by the background landscape and/or furniture. The suits of armor also had an occasional stroll, leaving behind empty pedestals.

I figured that such things were normal at Hogwarts, as no one really questioned them. I also was quick to memorize my way to different classes, not wanting to get lost should I have been separated from the other first-year Slytherins.

The Prefects and older Slytherins were helpful, and so were some of the ghosts in helping first-years.

Of course, Peeves the Poltergeist didn't fall into that category. He was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if one was almost late to class. He also liked dropping waste paper baskets onto people's heads, pulling rugs out from under unsuspecting people's feets, and sneaking up behind all manner of students to grab your nose and scream, "GOT YOUR CONK!" He was a real nuisance.

Even worse than him, if such a thing was even possible, was Argus Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts. He had a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging lamp-like eyes. He and his cat seemed to always be stalking the halls, looking for students to step one toe out of line so he could give them detentions and/or yell at them. They seemed to know most of the secret passageways of the castle, as they could go from one section of the castle to another in less than two seconds. It was the dearest wish of many older students to kick Mrs. Norris and/or curse Filch.

Of course, the classes themselves were fairly interesting. There was much more to magic and saying words based in other languages.

Astronomy was held once a week at midnight on Wednesdays for first-year students. We used our telescopes to name the stars and map out the movements of the planets.

Three times a week, we went out to one of the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology. The teacher was a dumpy, little witch called Professor Sprout. She taught us to care for all manner of magical fungi and plants. We also found out their uses in medicine and potions from her.

Easily, the most boring of classes was held twice a week under Professor Binns. He was the only ghost to have taught at Hogwarts, and he had an annoying habit of droning on and on. He wasn't passionate about his subject, which clearly meant he didn't care about History of Magic enough. He was a horrible teacher, and he should have been booted from the job years ago. It was rumored that one day, he fell asleep in front of the staff room fireplace and died, only to get up the next morning and float off to continue teaching.

Professor Flitwick taught Charms, which was also held twice a week. He was a tiny little wizard that had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. He was, however, the most enthusiastic about teaching his subject. He was always eager to see us students improve and handed out points left and right.

Transfigurations was held twice a week and was taught by Professor McGonagall, who was just as stern as she first appeared. Being strict and clever, she gave everyone a stern talking to the moment class began. "Transfigurations is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back." She then changed her desk into a pig and back again, all with two taps of her wand. She had us then go over the rules of her class, followed by taking many complicated notes.

We were given matches after that with the expectation that we would be able to transfigure them into needles.

By the end of the lesson, only Greengrass had managed to turn her match into a needle.

McGonagall gave a nod of approval to Greengrass while showing everyone how the match had become pointed and silver.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was a joke. Professor Quirrell could only stutter and shiver when trying to teach his lessons, which were unfortunately twice a week. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which was rumored to ward off the vampire he'd met in Romania that would one day seek revenge. His turban, he told us, was given to him by an African prince as thanks for getting rid of a troublesome zombie. He was obviously full of rubbish, but no one called him out on it to his face. His turban also reeked of a pungent odor, which was guessed to be stuffed full of garlic as well despite those two scents being totally different.

Finally, Friday came, and with it came the first Potions lesson of the year. It was Double Potions held with Gryffindor's.

I was at breakfast, calmly eating when the mail arrived.

As usual, the mail arrived by owl, which seemed to be the main way to communicate in the Wizarding World.

An owl delivered my newspaper, and I quickly flipped through to check the stocks I had bought, which were doing as good as I had expected them to. I then flipped back to the front page and continued reading while eating my food.

"Why do you always read the newspaper?" Davis questioned as she threw me an odd glance.

"I like staying up to date with the decisions of the world outside of Hogwarts," I admitted, "It's easier to ensure my stocks stay where they're supposed to."

"Wait, you actually bought stocks?" Davis asked as she looked at me incredulously.

"My parents only left Harry and I a savings account," I grumbled, "The fools actually thought that'd last two boys throughout a seven years at Hogwarts."

"What stocks did you buy?" Nott asked eagerly.

"I'm not telling you that," I said right away, "You could be competition."

He gave a wide grin. "Ah, but I'm not, so-"

"I refuse," I denied right away.

Huffing, Nott sat back and continued with his breakfast.

"Could you pass the croissants, Potter?" Zabini asked.

Without even looking, I grabbed the plate of baked goods and passed them to him. "Would you like the butter as well?"

"No, thank you," he replied.

I hummed once in acknowledgement before flipping the page of the newspaper. I paused then upon seeing the headline.

Gringotts Break-In Latest

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31, July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

     Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that had been searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

     "But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out of it if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

I made a mental note that Gringotts was broken into while Harry and I were there. I then dismissed the break-in as inconsequential to me and continued reading. I quickly read through everything else and decided that my stocks were still safe. With that, I tucked away my newspaper and continued to eat my breakfast. Once finished with my small meal, I headed down to the dungeons.

The dungeons were always colder than the main castle, probably because the earth was naturally colder than the air outside. The classroom was also a bit odd as all manner of pickled animals floating in glass jars around the walls.

Professor Snape, like Professor Flitwick, started class by taking roll call. He briefly paused at my name, but his real focus was my brother. "Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new celebrity."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle snickered behind their hands, clearly finding the call-out to be humorous.

Snape finished calling out the names before looking up at the class seriously. His eyes were like black abysses as he stood before the class, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes flicked over everyone. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making." His words were soft, but everyone could hear them around the silent classroom. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. 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 I usually have to teach."

Silence followed after his speech, everyone eager to brew glory and all that nonsense.

I remained impassive, but straightened up as his eyes flicked between my brother and I.

"Potter!" Snape barked as he looked at my brother, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

My brother tensed up, clearly not knowing the answer. As Granger's hand shot into the air, Harry said, "I don't know, sir."

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything." His head snapped toward me. "Well?"

"Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful, it's known as Draught of the Living Death," I recited from memory.

He gave a single nod of approval before turning his hand back to my brother. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry still looked confused, signaling to me he hadn't even touched his Potions textbook yet.

Granger's hair was high in the air, looking as though she wanted to reach for the sky itself to be noticed.

Meanwhile, Malfoy and his lot were shaking with silent laughter.

"I don't know, sir," Harry eventually said.

"Thought you wouldn't need to open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Snape asked rhetorically before looking at me once again.

"A bezoar is a stone that will save you from most poisons, and it originates from a goat's stomach," I said.

"What is the difference, Potter, betweens monkshood and wolfsbane?" Snape inquired.

At that, Granger stood up, her hand quivering in the air to be called on and display her knowledge. She really should have been made a Ravenclaw.

"I don't know," Harry admitted quietly.

After clicking his tongue, Snape glared at Granger. "Sit down." He then turned his attention toward me.

"Monkshood, Wolfbane, and aconite are all the same plant, which is used in the highly controversial Wolfsbane potion," I answered without hesitation.

"A point to Slytherin for answering my questions correctly, Mr. Potter," Snape said with a hint of approval in his tone. "Now, why aren't you writing that all down?"

Everyone scrambled for quills, ink, and parchment paper.

I calmly jotted those notes down, and we eventually moved onto safety procedures for the Potions classroom. Once done with that, I made sure to take careful notes on the Cure for Boils, the potion we would be brewing during the later half of class.

Once note-taking was done, Snape broke us into pairs to make the potion.

Zabini and I were paired together, and we both made sure to do our part. Zabini weighed the dried nettles while I crushed up snake fangs. I made sure the cauldron was off the fire and added the porcupine quills before Zabini stewed horned slugs. We were just about to perform the next step of the potion when a loud hiss filled the classroom.

Acidic green smoke rose from the cauldron of Longbottom and Finnegan, and said cauldron twisted and melted. Their potion quickly spilled onto the floor, burning holes in people's shoes.

I quickly jumped onto my stool, and Zabini followed suit. Once determining that I would be safe on top of the stool until the issue resolved itself, I continued working on our potion.

Longbottom moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang to life all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" Snape hissed angrily, clearing away the spilled potion with a wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron over the fire."

Longbottom whimpered in both pain and fear as boils began to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape snapped at Finnegan. He then rounded on Harry and Weasley, who had been working next to Longbottom. "You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's a point you've lost Gryffindor."

Harry opened his mouth to object, but quickly shut it as Weasley kicked him.

I internally snorted before stepping off the stool. I added in the next potion ingredients required, and Zabini took over from there.

An hour later, Double Potions was finished, and we headed up to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Can you believe Longbottom?" Malfoy asked with a scoff as we Slytherins walked up from the dungeons. "How stupid can you get?"

"Apparently very," I chimed in, "He went ahead and put in the quills despite the fact Professor Snape stressed the importance of taking the cauldron off the fire first. He either wasn't listening, or he can't retain information at all."

"His fire was also much too large," Davis piped up. "It was like he was trying to burn down the classroom."

I shook my head, very critical of his performance.

"And to think he's a Pureblood." Nott scoffed loudly. "It's almost like he should have been a Squib."

I made a mental note of that word so that I could research it later.

"It's a good thing we only have one class with that oaf," Parkinson said while flipping her hair over her shoulder, "I don't think I could stand his stupidity for any longer."

A few Slytherins snickered at the insult.

"I heard Flying lessons will also be with Gryffindors," Greengrass finally said, earning a groan from a few others.

We entered the Great Hall and headed over to our table, all while chatting about how we didn't want to be saddled with the Gryffindors for any more lessons. After eating lunch, we went to Herbology, which was our last class of the week.

From there, we all broke apart.

I headed up to the library to do some research into what Squibs were, along with the intentions of working on the Potions essay assigned to us. I soon discovered that a Squib was a person born into a magical family that couldn't perform any magic. With that in mind, I decided that I'd need to see more of Longbottom's magic to decide if he was actually almost a Squib or not. With that done, I headed over to the Potions section of the library and began to look for background information on the Cure for Boils. I remained in the library until dinnertime, in which I returned to the Great Hall with a rough outline for my essay that was due next week.

That night, pinned to the notice board, was a notification that all first-year Slytherins had a mandatory Flying Class with the Gryffindors on Thursdays after lunch.

All Malfoy did for the next week was talk about flying, complained that first years never got on House Quidditch Teams, and told long, boastful stories that all seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters.

We all knew those stories were bullshit, as he would have gotten in serious trouble with the Ministry, but we didn't say anything because we didn't want to listen to him snap at us.

Of course, I didn't quite care about flying that much, so I merely nodded along whenever Malfoy or someone else talked excitedly about riding a broom. Thursday morning, I was reading my newspaper when Malfoy's eagle owl came swooping in to deliver him a package.

Malfoy always opened his packages gloatingly at the Slytherin table, obviously from a rich pureblood family. That day was no different as he opened up a package of sweets that honestly looked rather tasty.

A barn owl brought Longbottom a small package. Longbottom excitedly tore it open, and Malfoy went over to see what it was, Crabbe and Goyle at his side.

I rolled my eyes before flipping the page of my paper.

"Seriously, Potter. You need to get some hobbies," Davis commented as she watched me read over the news.

"Hobbies such as…?" I trailed off expectantly.

"Chess," Davis chirped.

"I don't have a set," I denied immediately.

"But it's so entertaining!" Davis complained, "You can watch as your pieces destroy the enemy's pieces!"

I quickly made a mental note that Wizard's Chess varied wildly from Muggle Chess.

"Gobstones is pretty entertaining," Parkinson offered, earning a disgusted look from several others.

"Gobstones is for babies," Nott told the girl.

"You don't understand the art of Gobstones," Parkinson informed the boy.

Nott snorted. "You mean getting your face squirted with some foul-smelling liquid?"

"Getting the enemy's face squirted with foul-smelling liquid," Parkinson said as if talking down to a child.

"Enemy? Really, Parkinson? It's a game of Gobstones, not a duel to the death," Greengrass said with the utmost exasperation.

Malfoy came slouching back, Crabbe and Goyle still right behind him.

"What did Longbottom get?" Parkinson asked curiously.

"A Remembrall," Malfoy answered.

"He really must be forgetful," Moon snickered.

Malfoy sat back down, looking bitter for some reason or another.

I ignored him for the time being, instead focusing on my paper.

Soon enough, Slytherins went to the first greenhouse for Herbology, followed shortly by D.A.D.A. At three-thirty that afternoon, we Slytherins left the castle and meandered onto the grounds for our first flying class.

Just like in the morning, it was sunny and slightly breezy. Grass rippled under our feet as we walked away from the dark, twisted trees that made up the Forbidden Forest. Not a cloud floated in the sky as we made it to the sloping grounds where twenty-one broomsticks waited.

Madam Hooch, a witch with short, gray hair and yellow hawk-like eyes soon arrived. We all stared at her expectantly, only for her to bark, "Well, what are you all waiting for? Everyone stand by a broom! Come on, hurry up!"

Everyone scrambled to stand by a broom, the Slytherins on one side and the Gryffindors on the other. All of our brooms we're incredibly old, looking like they had been through a war or something.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom and say 'Up'!" She demanded as she stood at one end of the brooms.

"UP!" Everyone shouted at once.

I barely held back a scowl as I stared down at my broom, which levitated just about halfway up to my hand before just flopping back down to the ground. I instead decided a different tactic would be needed. I raised my chin as I glared down at my broom. "Up." I demanded in a cold tone.

The broom quickly shot up to my hand, clearly deciding it would rather play it safe than sorry. Smart broom.

Madam Hooch then went about showing us how to mount our brooms while also gripping it properly so we wouldn't slide off the ends. She walked up and down the row, correcting the hand placements, along with the leg placements.

Everyone soon had their grips corrected and we're standing at the ready position.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," she demanded, "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. One my whistle. Three - two-"

Longbottom, looking both frightened and jumpy, pushed off hard before the whistle even touched Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" She shouted at the absolute fool.

Longbottom clearly didn't have control over his broom, as he rose up like a cork shot from a bottle. He rose twelve feet, then twenty. His face was pale as his grip on his broom shook. He looked toward the ground, gasped in horror, and slipped sideways off his broom.

I watched emotionlessly as he fell facedown on the grass.

With a loud thud and a crack, it was obvious that he had broken something upon impact. He simply cried in pain in the grass as his broomstick rose higher and higher before drifting off toward the Forbidden Forest.

Madam Hooch bent over Longbottom, his face as pale as his as she stared at his arm. "Broken wrist. Come on, boy - it's alright. Up you get." She urged him to his feet, and he sniffled loudly as she turned her focus toward us. "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 corralled him toward the castle, leaving us behind after giving us all a stern look-over.

Malfoy had the brains to wait until they were out of earshot before he burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?!"

A few other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Patil snapped.

"Oh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Parkinson asked with a condescending expression. "Never thought you'd like fat crybabies, Parvati."

Patil flushed a bit, but maintained her scowl.

"Look!" Malfoy exclaimed as he darted forward and grabbed something from the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him!"

The clear orb, lined with gold around the circumference, glittered in the sun.

"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry demanded softly.

Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smirked nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. How about… up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry repeated loudly.

Malfoy leapt onto his broomstick and took off flying. He easily leveled himself with the nearby branches of an oak, leering down at my twin as he did so. "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom.

"No!" Granger shouted at my brother. "Madam Hooch told us not to move - you'll get us all in trouble!"

Naturally, Harry ignored her. He mounted his broom and kicked hard against the ground. He flew up into the air with ease and turned his broom to face Malfoy.

The girls of Gryffindor gasped, and Weasley gave a whoop of admiration.

"Give it here, or I'll knock you off your broom!" Harry threatened.

Malfoy attempted to sneer, but he looked a bit worried. "Oh yeah?"

Harry leaned forward and shot toward Malfoy like a javelin, only to miss Malfoy as the blonde narrowly moved out of the way in time. He quickly whirled around, facing the pureblood once again in a steady position.

A few people clapped, clearly impressed with such an elementary move.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy!" Harry taunted.

Malfoy must have realized the same thing. "Catch it if you can, then!" He threw the Remembrall up into the air before shooting back toward the ground.

I stepped aside, allowing Malfoy to land without hitting me. I then watched as my brother shot down after the ball, the wind whistling as it passed him by. I ignored the screams of a few Gryffindors and instead watched as my brother grabbed the ball a foot from the ground before pulling his broom handle up.

He slowed down and toppled gently onto the grass, the glass ball held gently in his grasp. He gave a satisfied grin, clearly happy with his achievement.

"HARRY POTTER!"

My brother's face fell as he looked toward the voice.

McGonagall was running toward us, looking quite furious as her glasses flashed in the sunlight.

Harry rose to his feet, trembling.

"Never - in all my time at Hogwarts…" She was clearly so angry that she couldn't communicate straight. "How dare you - might have broken your neck!"

Patil immediately stepped forward. "It wasn't his fault, Professor-"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil-"

"But Malfoy-"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now," she commanded in a cold tone.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle looked quite triumphant as Harry was led away.

As they left, I glanced over at Malfoy before smirking. "You know, he's not going to be expelled."

"He has to be-"

I shook my head, cutting Malfoy off. "Harry has incredible luck to make up for all his blunders. You won't see him expelled, not today."

"We'll see about that," Malfoy said.

"More than that, I'd be worried about yourself," I stated, "McGonagall had to have seen you in the air, too. Imagine what our Head of House will say if he finds out about your little stunt."

Malfoy winced a bit at that, making it clear that he valued and feared the opinion of Snape.

I internally tutted before turning my focus toward Harry's broom, which had obviously been flying if its position on the ground was any indication. I then shrugged before looking toward the front door of Hogwarts.

Madam Hooch soon came out, and realized something must have happened based on the state of the brooms and a missing student. She looked like she was getting a migraine as she demanded to know what happened.

Before anyone could start pointing fingers, I said, "Professor McGonagall was watching over us, I believe. She ended up pulling Harry from class because she caught him flying."

Madam Hooch gave a heavy sigh before straightening up. "Very well. Back to the lesson everyone!"

We spent the next half an hour flying around in brooms in circles, careful to not go above a certain height and all that. Soon, the class ended, and we all went our separate ways, allowing Madam Hooch to clean up.

I headed off to the library, as I wanted to work on my D.A.D.A. essay. I needed to do a bit more research into werewolf bites and how to properly treat them for my essay. I wanted to cite a few examples of when to approach someone and when to just contact the Ministry.

Dinnertime came soon enough, and with it, students swarmed the Great Hall.

I was calmly eating my piece of steak when Malfoy noticed my brother getting attention across the hall.

Malfoy swaggered over with Crabbe and Goyle at his side, clearly looking like he hadn't taken my words to heart.

I shook my head in disapproval before mulling over the facts I had learned in the library. I needed to better organize what I had jotted down, if only to get a better grade in the class that was boring me to tears.

Eventually, Malfoy returned with Crabbe and Goyle, and he looked quite mischievous. "You knew-"

"I told you that Harry had incredible luck, but you didn't believe me," I argued right away.

"He should have been expelled," Malfoy grumbled as he sat down, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes, but he wasn't," I pointed out.

Malfoy suddenly smirked. "Not yet…"

I raised an eyebrow before nevertheless going back to my dinner and thoughts on werewolf bites. After dinner, we returned to the common room, where I worked on my essay. I reorganized my notes and began to write out my long essay.

"You're already working on the D.A.D.A. essay?" Nott asked incredulously as he briefly paused at my table.

"Indeed," I drawled out as I continued to work on said essay.

"You do realize that's not due-"

"I know when it's due," I assured him, "I simply wanted to get it done early."

"Uh-huh…" He remained silent for a moment, but he didn't move away from my spot.

I simply ignored his presence for as long as I possibly could.

Nott eventually understood that I was ignoring him and sat down across from me at the small table. "You realize he probably isn't expecting us to write us this detailed of an essay, right?"

"I know," I admitted, earning a deeply furrowed brow from Nott. "You think I want to be held to the standards of your average muggleborn?" I scoffed. "I'd rather display an understanding of the subjects rather than look like a complete fool."

"So, it's about upkeeping your appearance," Nott realized as he sat back. "Is that why you bought stocks?"

"No," I denied, "I genuinely believe that I will need the money in the future."

He hummed softly. "Those stocks… Is there any guaranteed success in them?"

"There's no guaranteed success in any stocks," I tutted, "I simply went with my instincts."

Nott nodded slowly before suddenly asking, "And your brother… is he smart enough to do even remotely as good as you?"

"Should he apply himself, yes. However, I've found that my brother rarely applies himself," I explained, "He would rather play outside like some toddler than focus on the reality of growing older."

Nott contemplated my words for a long moment before finally nodding to himself. He stood up and said, "Malfoy intends to get your brother expelled tonight."

"I honestly don't care," I stated, and I meant it. "If he's dumb enough to fall into an obvious trap, he deserves what he has coming."

Nott blinked at me in surprise, looking taken aback.

My brow furrowed at his reaction. "What?"

"You have no sympathy for your own brother?" He asked, sounding surprisingly curious considering most people found such a reply to be disturbing.

"If he wants sympathy, he can find it in the dictionary," I stated curtly.

Nott gave a single snort before shaking his head. He walked away, radiating amusement as he did so.

I waved it off as unimportant and went back to my essay. Soon enough, I came to a closing point and waited for my ink to finish drying. I glanced over at the clock and saw it was close to midnight. I gave a soft sigh before rolling up the parchment for another day. Once I packed up all my materials, I returned to bed to try and get some sleep. It came as no surprise to me when I saw Harry in the Great Hall the next morning, though Malfoy looked shocked speechless. I just continued on with my day as normal.

About a week later, owls came flooding in.

Everyone's attention was caught, however, by a long, thin parcel that was carried in by six screech owls.

Malfoy immediately flared up in anger as it dropped in front of my brother. "That's a broomstick! It has to be!" In a rage, he stomped off, Goyle and Crabbe hesitantly leaving their food behind and chasing after him.

I rolled my eyes before continuing to eat.

Harry and Weasley quickly left the Great Hall with the parcel.

Malfoy soon came back into the Great Hall while grinding his teeth. He looked downright furious as he sat back down and hissed, "It's a Nimbus Two Thousand."

"And he's allowed to have it?" Parkinson asked in surprise.

"Flitwick said it was special circumstances," Malfoy said through grit teeth.

I made a mental note that Harry was likely going to piss of Malfoy even more in the future and turned the page of my newspaper.

And like that, life continued as normal at Hogwarts.