Animagus Lessons
Chapter 11: Animagus Lessons
For the remainder of the week, the weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew ever nearer. Heavy rain and winds buffeted against the castle and walls, and the promise of thunder and lightning was just on the horizon. Draco was finding it harder and harder to make time for practicing, and at the insistence from Flint, he faked a flare up of his arm injury to Snape so they could get a few more team practices in before their first match. As much as it was frustrating to give up the rivalry temporarily, the Slytherins knew it would be that much sweeter to beat the Gryffindors to a pulp out of the terrible weather that was sure to come.
Snape, who was doubtful of the veracity of the injury, was able to get the match changed on the Thursday before it was set to take place that Saturday. Draco smirked at the Head of House’s ploy—the Gryffindors would surely lose their minds at the last minute change, especially their neurotic captain.
That afternoon in the hall he passed Potter who was so irate he nearly had steam coming out of his ears. “There’s nothing wrong with Malfoy’s arm!” said Harry furiously. “He’s faking it!” He ranted to anyone who would listen.
“Good luck, Potter, hope you don’t end up in a tree!” Draco cackled at his own joke. With the blustering gales whipping about, Potter was sure to be knocked off his broom.
The day before the match, the winds reached howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. The Slytherin team was looking very smug indeed, and none more so than Draco as he always relished a possibility for Potter to fail or embarrass himself. Though it never seems to pan out…
“Ah, if only my arm was feeling a bit better,” he sighed regretfully as the storm outside pounded the windows.
Potter was being shuttled to and from classes all day Friday by the Gryffindor captain, Wood. Draco wasn’t sure if it was a defense strategy to make sure their Seeker wasn’t suddenly kidnapped, although that seemed unlikely. Who knows, those Gryffindors can be mental, especially Wood—he’s a total nutter half the time, almost as bad as Flint!
When Draco arrived in Defense Against the Dark Arts, he was pleasantly surprised to find Professor Snape lurking at the front of the class. Despite their rocky recent history, Draco preferred Snape as a professor in any class. He was knowledgeable, to the point, and didn’t waste time with little anecdotes or nonsense. He cracked his book open and smirked at the Weasel who kept checking the door and the empty seat beside him as if Potter would materialize if he stared hard enough.
“It would seem Mr. Potter is far too busy to attend our lesson today,” Snape drawled acidicly. “No matter, we will begin without our resident celebrity and should he turn up, let’s say one point for each minute he’s late.” The oily-haired man grinned wickedly and the Gryffindors all groaned quietly.
“Now, Professor Lupin is feeling ill today, so I will be teaching his classes until he is well enough to return. He has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far—“
Potter skidded to a halt outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, pulled the door open, and dashed inside.
“Sorry I’m late, Professor Lupin. I —”
But it wasn’t Professor Lupin who looked up at him from the teacher’s desk, but Snape. Draco could tell the man was giddy at the opportunity to take points from Potter, and to his credit, he was restraining himself quite well.
“This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we’ll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down.”
But Potter stood rooted to the spot.
“Where’s Professor Lupin?” he said.
“He says he is feeling too ill to teach today,” said Snape with a twisted smile. “I believe I told you to sit down?”
But Potter continued to not move.
“What’s wrong with him?”
Draco sniggered loudly and Snape’s black eyes glittered maliciously.
“Nothing life-threatening,” the man said, looking disappointed that it wasn’t. “Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty.”
Potter finally walked slowly to his seat and sat down next to Weasley. Snape scanned the class once more.
“As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far —”
“Please, sir, we’ve done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas, and Grindylows,” Granger interrupted quickly, “and we’re just about to start —“
Draco groaned inwardly. Why can’t you just keep your mouth shut?
“Be quiet,” said Snape coldly. “I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin’s lack of organization.”
“He’s the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had,” said Dean Thomas boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the Gryffindors and even a few braver Slytherins. Snape looked more menacing than ever.
“You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you — I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and Grindylows. Today we shall discuss —”
Draco watched him flick angrily through the textbook, to the very back chapter, which he must know they hadn’t covered.
“— werewolves,” said Snape.
Draco froze. Surely he wouldn’t—
“But, sir,” Granger jumped in again, seemingly unable to restrain herself, “we’re not supposed to do werewolves yet, we’re due to start Hinkypunks —”
“Miss Granger,” said Snape in a voice of deadly calm, “I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394.” He glanced around again. “All of you! Now!”
With many bitter sidelong looks and some sullen muttering, the students reluctantly opened their books.
“Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?” said Snape.
The class sat in motionless silence—well, everyone except Granger, whose hand, as per usual, had shot straight into the air.
“Anyone?” Snape said, ignoring the bushy haired girl. His twisted smile was back. “Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn’t even taught you the basic distinction between —”
“We told you,” said one of the Patil twins suddenly, Draco could never remember which one was which, “we haven’t got as far as werewolves yet, we’re still on--”
“Silence!” snarled Snape. “Well, well, well, I never thought I’d meet a third-year class who wouldn’t even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are...”
“Please, sir,” Granger whinged, whose hand was still in the air, “the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf —”
“That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger,” said Snape coolly. “Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all.”
She went very red, put down her hand, and stared at the floor with her eyes full of tears. Draco hated the way Snape treated her, but she really did need to learn some self control. The Gryffindors were all glaring at the Potions Master, despite the fact that nearly every one of them had called Granger a know-it-all at least once, and Weasley of all people, who had to have told Granger she was a know- it-all at least twice a week, said loudly, “You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don’t want to be told?”
The class knew instantly he’d gone too far, and Draco leaned forward eagerly. Snape advanced on the red-haired boy slowly, and the room held its breath.
“Detention, Weasley,” Snape said silkily, his face very close to Ron’s. “And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed.”
No one made a sound throughout the rest of the lesson. Draco could hardly contain his enjoyment, but he gave it his best. He still ended up giving Potter and Weasley toothy grins anytime they looked his way. They sat and made notes on werewolves from the textbook, while Snape prowled up and down the rows of desks, examining the work they had been doing with Professor Lupin.
“Very poorly explained... That is incorrect, the Kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia... Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn’t have given it three...”
When the bell rang at last, Snape held them back.
“You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention.”
Potter and Granger scurried out of the room with the rest of the class, who waited until they were well out of earshot, then burst into a furious tirade about Snape.
“Snape’s never been like this with any of our other Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, even if he did want the job,” Potter exclaimed. “Why’s he got it in for Lupin? D’you think this is all because of the Boggart?”
Eh, good guess Potter, finally using your brain for once, but probably wrong since he’s been scowling at the man since the start of term.
“I don’t know,” said Granger pensively. “But I really hope Professor Lupin gets better soon...”
The Slytherins and Gryffindors split up as they continued to their next classes.
….
Saturday morning, Draco and Theo bundled into their warmest Slytherin garb, hoping to blend in with the other students heading toward the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match. The wind was so strong that they staggered sideways as they walked out onto the grounds. When they approached the edge of the stands, the two boys feigned dropping their gloves, claiming they would catch up later. Once their friends disappeared into the crowd of students climbing into the stands, Draco and Theo took off away from the stadium.
If the crowd was cheering as the teams walked out, they couldn’t hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder. Rain was splattering over their pale faces, as they hurried off to meet the waiting orange cat, which sat under the cover of a tree, twitching its bottle brush tail in irritation. Draco cast a quick Impervius! The cat eyed him closely for a moment before stepping out into the rain and trotting with confidence as Draco’s water repelling charm worked to the animal’s satisfaction.
Unfortunately for the boys, even with similar charms cast on their outer layers of clothing, the thick rain soaked into their jumpers and chilled them to the bone. With the first flash of lightning came the faint sound of a dog barking in the distance, and Draco spotted Sirius in his animagus form trotting behind them, tongue lolling out to one side. The canine quickly overtook them on the path and the two Slytherins followed, pushing their pace to try to keep up.
The climb to the cave was much more treacherous to humans than to the two animals accompanying them. The rocks were slippery and sharp underfoot, and at one point Draco misstepped, nearly sliding off the side of the cliff face. Thank Merlin Theo reflexively snapped his arm out to steady him. The two boys kept close to each other after that, while Sirius and the cat turned their heads every so often to check on their progress.
Reaching the entrance to the cave was a well-earned feat, and once they neared the back half of it, Sirius transformed and offered the boys each one of the blankets from the even larger pile Mippy had brought since they were last there. “Bloody elf keeps bringing two back for every one it takes away to clean,” Sirius grumbled, gesturing to the mound of blankets.
Draco inconspicuously cast a warming charm over the pile, knowing his cousin wouldn’t accept one cast over the entire cave, but he was clearly using the blankets if Mippy kept bringing him more. He wrapped himself in a navy blue blanket, and Theo did the same with a tan one. Sirius was hugging a thick black blanket around his shoulders, and Draco did a double take as it was nearly the same shade and length as his fur in his dog form.
“So did you boys find the book?” Sirius asked, wearing a tired expression.
“We did. Although Minnie didn’t get it for us,” Theo sniggered as he said the name. He was dying to call Professor McGonagall by the moniker, but couldn’t muster the audacity to do so.
Sirius chuckled along with him. “Did you bring the food?”
Theo pulled out a large sack he had filled with various foods from the previous meal and tossed it to the gaunt, scraggly man.
Sirius’s smile faded, overtaken by a ravenous gleam, “Good. Let’s get started.”
…
A few hours later, the boys had journeyed back to the castle, still undetected, with the guise of getting stuck surrounded by a group of overzealous Hufflepuffs. Vince, Greg, Pansy and the girls ignored their explanation with minimal interest. Blaise, however, wasn’t fooled.
“Okay, so where exactly were you?” He accused as if he actually knew they weren’t at the match that afternoon.
“We told you, Zabini, we got stuck in the middle of a bunch of Puffs!” Theo retorted unconvincingly.
“Right. Now the truth,” he demanded again, smirking.
Theo made eye contact with Draco, hoping for another excuse or at least some back up with the lie. Draco wasn’t so sure why Blaise couldn’t just know they were becoming animagi. To be honest, the first lesson was extremely boring. They really had only just begun the process and there was no reason Blaise couldn’t join it—it was just one of Theo’s whims after all. All they did was sit and meditate for two—yes, TWO hours! Something about trying to find their animal forms, Sirius had said. After all their reading, they hadn’t found that little tidbit anywhere. Draco’s best guess was that it must’ve been a tip from Minnie years ago.
Blaise lifted an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for an explanation. When none came, he prodded further, “so wasn’t it terrible how those bloody Gryffindors won, yet again, thanks to stupid Potter!”
“You don’t have to tell us! It was awful, you’d think those puffs could pull off at least one good play!” Theo agreed with a vigorous nod.
“Ha! Gotcha! Gryffindor lost by a hundred points, Cedric Diggory caught the Snitch, and Potter fell off his broom after a bunch of Dementors attacked!” Blaise spat, excited he had caught them red-handed.
Draco looked at Theo in frustration at missing what would’ve been the highlight of his entire Hogwarts career. Theo sighed in resignation and, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck, the taller boy finally came clean, “Sirius is helping us become animagi.”
Blaise’s eyes widened with incredulity. “I didn’t expect that! I thought you two were off snogging each other—now I’m really pissed I wasn’t included from the beginning!”
“SNOGGING?! Bloody hell, Zabini, what the fuck?!” Draco shouted a little too loudly, drawing Pansy’s flicker of attention before she returned to ignoring them.
Blaise laughed loudly, head tipping back on his neck as he gasped to catch his breath. “What—was I—s’pose to—think!” He barely got it out between breaths.
“Don’t look at me, it was Theo’s idea! We bring Sirius food and he coaches us, besides we only just started today,” Draco said defensively.
Theo grumbled and averted his eyes away from Blaise, “well I suppose you can come too next time.”
“Splendid! Thought you’d never ask,” Blaise beamed, teasing. Theo grunted in response but smiled back genuinely. “Thanks for finally including me, you two are terrible liars and even worse at sneaking around—“
“Oi! I take offense to that!” Draco contested defiantly.
The three laughed together heartily, and joined the group of third year Slytherins starting an Exploding Snap tournament in the common room.
“So Potter fell off his broom, eh?” Draco pried.
“Yeah, yeah, your boyfriend’s in the Hospital Wing as we speak,” Blaise joked. Draco sneered and Theo snorted at the teasing remark. “Oh! His broom blew into the Whomping Willow, so it’s a goner by the way—unless Potter can fly on broom shards, this season should be a breeze!”
…
It was a relief to return to the noise and bustle of the main school on Monday. Draco took great delight in rigorously taunting Potter about falling off his broom—which was now non-existent. Draco could hardly contain his glee at Gryffindor’s defeat, and Potter’s shame. He celebrated his rival’s failure by doing spirited imitations of Potter falling off his broom. He normally would have to pretend his arm was twinging, but since the match that had been changed because of it was over, he no longer had an incentive to play ill. Draco even spent much of their next Potions class doing Dementor imitations across the dungeon. After the third or fourth time, the Weasel finally cracked and flung a large, slippery crocodile heart at him, hitting him in the face and causing Snape to take fifty points from Gryffindor. I’ll gladly take one for the team if that continues!
Another surprise on Monday (for everyone not in Slytherin)—Professor Lupin was back at his post. It certainly looked as though he had been ill, but Draco had gathered that all of your bones breaking and re-aligning twice in one night would give a man that appearance. His old robes were hanging more loosely on him and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes, but nevertheless, he smiled at the class as they took their seats, and they burst at once into an explosion of complaints about Snape’s behavior while Lupin had been ill.
“It’s not fair, he was only filling in, why should he give us homework?”
“We don’t know anything about werewolves —”
“— two rolls of parchment!”
“Did you tell Professor Snape we haven’t covered them yet?” Lupin asked, frowning slightly. The babble broke out again.
“Yes, but he said we were really behind —”
“— he wouldn’t listen —”
“— two rolls of parchment!”
Professor Lupin smiled at the look of indignation on nearly every face. Even the Slytherins didn’t appreciate being lumped in on the punishment, as they weren’t particularly used to having to actually do Snape’s ridiculous extra work reserved for the Gryffindors.
“Don’t worry. I’ll speak to Professor Snape. You don’t have to do the essay.”
“Oh no,” Granger cried, looking very disappointed. “I’ve already finished it!”
Draco scoffed. Of course she’s already done it—she’s been studying werewolves since term started and she figured out Lupin was one!
They had a somewhat enjoyable lesson. Professor Lupin had brought along a glass box containing a Hinkypunk, a little one-legged creature who looked as though he were made of wisps of smoke, rather frail and harmless looking.
“Lures travelers into bogs,” said Professor Lupin as they took notes. “You notice the lantern dangling from his hand? Hops ahead — people follow the light — then —”
The Hinkypunk made a horrible squelching noise against the glass.
When the bell rang, everyone gathered up their things and headed for the door, except Draco, Blaise, and Theo. The trio was attempting to corner Lupin and confront him about what Draco saw with the time turner. Disappointingly, when Lupin realized what was happening he approached the lingering students.
“Hello there, mind if I have a word with Harry privately?” He asked in the picture of perfect politeness, speaking mostly to Draco.
“Of course, Professor,” Draco said through clenched teeth.
Lupin began laying a cloth over the glass box with the Hinkeypunk inside as he called after Harry to stay a moment and have a word. Draco scowled as Potter sauntered back in, nudging the blonde’s shoulder with unnecessary roughness.
“We’ll stop him after his little meeting with Potter,” Theo offered. To their dismay, Lupin and Potter’s little “chat” lasted much longer than necessary and somehow turned into Lupin promising to teach him how to do the Patronus Charm to ward off the Dementors. Not to be outdone by stinking Saint Potter, Draco mentally added a Patronus to his ever-growing list of things to do and accomplish this year. Eventually, they gave up waiting and ran to their next class, hoping to make it before the warning bell rang.
…
As November came to a close, winter was in full swing. The cool crisp air took on a frigid quality, and mountainous moody cloud formations took shape overhead. The next Quidditch match was a massive disappointment to Slytherin who were all hoping for another Hufflepuff win to knock Gryffindor out of the running for the Quidditch House Cup. Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their match, meaning Gryffindor were still in it, although they could not afford to lose another match. In response, both Gryffindor and Slytherin teams practiced almost constantly even in the chilly haze of rain that persisted into December.
As much time as Draco spent out of the practice pitch, he expected to see the Dementors floating around the grounds. At least one good thing about the Headmaster was that his anger seemed to be keeping them at their stations at the entrances, and far, far away from any students.
Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick, had even decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. Draco appreciated the decor the Charms Professor had chosen, it was very elegant and something his mother would’ve greatly appreciated.
The students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays, and to everyone’s delight except probably Potter’s, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of the term.
“We can do all our Christmas shopping there!” said Pansy. “What should I get for your mother, Draco? She already has everything, I’m sure of it.” Pansy gnawed on a perfectly manicured nail and Draco rolled his eyes, but didn’t give a response because he suddenly realized he had no idea what to get either of his parents, let alone his friends.
On the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Theo, Draco, Blaise, and Pansy stood in the long line of students waiting to leave the castle. Everyone was wrapped in thick cloaks and scarves, as snow had started to fall outside the windows, leaving a soft, pearlescent blanket over the grounds.
With the snow piling up rather quickly, the carriages were available for students to use going to and from the castle. Pansy begged for them to catch a carriage and after watching her nearly slip three times in less than a minute, they finally agreed to her request.
“I need to stop at Gladrags and see if they have any of the new holiday lines. I really should find something more suitable to wear for Christmas dinner and of course the Malfoy Yule Gala,” Pansy prattled on, trying to make conversation. “It just won’t do wear last years dresses—no, I daresay this year I’ll be wearing gowns. I’m certainly not a child any—“
“Really? Because you definitely act like one!” Theo interrupted, playfully shoving her shoulder. “Don’t worry Pans, I’ll be out of your hair soon enough. It’s straight to Zonko’s for me,” Theo winked.
“Of course you are,” she shoved him back gruffly, but with the hint of a smile playing on her lips.
“It’s The Three Broomsticks for me then,” Blaise chimed, looking at Draco for his plans.
“I guess I’ll join you. I haven’t the faintest idea of what to buy for anyone and I’m thinking I’d rather shop in Diagon once we’re back at the Manor,” Draco supplied. “Although I’d like to make a stop at Honeydukes before we go if you don’t mind?”
Blaise nodded in agreement and the four friends excitedly chattered about upcoming festivities. They arrived in Hogsmede about ten minutes later, and swiftly departed to their own corners of the village in search of gifts, sweets, and inspiration. Entering Honeydukes, Draco and Blaise spied an obscenely large notice on the inside of the sweetshop’s door.
BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
Customers are reminded that until further notice, Dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall.
Merry Christmas!
Draco shuddered at the thought of facing another round of Dementors. He would have to warn Sirius at their meeting later in the afternoon. For now, he would just try to focus on Christmas gifts, and finding an excuse to sneak off with Blaise and Theo. The two Slytherins perused the selection of various sweets and treats lining the shelves and display trays. Everything seemed to draw his eyes, from the spritely Pepper Imps to the gourmet Cauldron Cakes. In a rare moment of self-awareness, Draco realized he had quite the sweet tooth when under duress of stressful situations. He shook his head as he chuckled to himself—there were far worse vices to have, he supposed.
Blaise and Draco finished their purchases, and lugged their sacks of sweets to The Three Broomsticks. Upon entering, they found Greg and Millie sitting at a table with far too many chairs for just the two of them, and Millie waved the boys over excitedly.
“Hey guys, we figured we’d grab a big enough table since so many of us came in last time!” She smiled brightly, proud of her foresight.
“Brilliant,” Blaise grinned back.
Not a moment later, Daphne, Tracey, Pansy, and Vince breezed through, flouncing their way to the table, levitating packages behind them tied in vibrant red and green ribbons. All except Vince. He stomped his way across the pub, leaving a trail of snow and slush, earning him a reproachful scowl from Madam Rosmerta. He at least had the sense to look ashamed, muttering an apology, then grumbling about being dragged along on the shopping trip from hell. And “they said I would like it too, but there wasn’t any food! I should’ve gone with you guys to Honeydukes”. The boxes and bags were piled high in the remaining empty chair, and the pub continued to fill up as the lunch rush began.
They each took turns ordering their favorite plates and a big round of butterbeers. A cheery, yet troubled Madame Rosmerta swirled around the place, running drinks and sending plates of food whizzing to their respective customers. Her blonde curls, piled high on her head, sprung loose in a wild manner, reflecting her frazzled demeanor. Her behavior made a great deal more sense when Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, and the Minister of Magic walked into his line of sight and struck up a conversation with her.
The three adults were speaking in semi-hushed tones, McGonagall looking worn and tired, while Hagrid appeared to be holding back pure rage. The Minister was simply egging it on, leaning in to make small mutterings every other minute. Draco tried to read their lips, but his view was suddenly blocked by an evergreen tree inching its way in front of another table.
Draco eyed the tree, hoping if he stared long enough and hard enough that it would either disappear or burst into flames. That’d teach it a lesson—don’t get in my way! He glowered in the general direction until he realized just who he was looking at. Of course she was the one who did it. Subtle, Granger, moving a giant tree in the middle of a crowded pub so you can “inconspicuously” eavesdrop on the Minister and two professors. She really needs to work on her sneaking around skills—
His concentration was shot to hell anyway, as at that exact moment, Theo came barreling through the door to come and join in the merrymaking. His cheeks were a rosy shade from the cold, and he held three small bags close to his chest.
“Thanks for saving me a s—“ he began, but stopped when he spotted the mound of purchased goods in the singular “empty” chair left.
“Yeah, well, you’re late,” Pansy snorted.
“LATE?! We didn’t even plan this, Pansy!” He replied in a snarky tone.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re here aren’t you?” She gestured at the rest of the table and Theo shrugged, giving in. He moved everyone else’s boxes and bags to the floor under the table and plopped into his chair after all the exertion.
The crowd of Slytherins grew continuously boisterous, and they were eventually shuttled out of the pub by Madam Rosmerta herself, stating no more underage witches and wizards allowed in today. Those with packages began trotting toward the carriages to journey back to the castle.
“Hey, Theo, I wanted to show you something Blaise and I saw earlier. It was this way,” Draco said, pointing down the street. Thankfully no one else was interested in anything other than getting out of the snow and into the next carriage.
“So what did you guys wanna show me?” Theo asked eagerly.
“Uhhh nothing? It was to get away so we can go see—“ Draco looked around cautiously, “my cousin.”
Theo perked up instantly at the mention of Sirius and pulled out his three small paper bags, squeezing them excitedly.
“What’s in there?” Blaise poked at one of the bags curiously.
“Oi! Get off, mate, no touching the goods til we get up there, alright?” Theo yanked the bags out of reach. He spun on his heel and led the way up. Prepared for the arduous climb, Draco and Theo had placed charms on their shoes and each layer of clothing—desperate to not repeat their most recent experience. In fact, Draco had asked Mippy to start weaving the charms into all of his boots and outerwear that was still at the Manor; he’d have her finish with his clothes he would bring home for the winter holidays.
Blaise spent the majority of the climb cursing and snarling at every rock that threatened to roll him down the cliff and every root his foot snagged. He even threw in a few shouts about Godric Gryffindor, and most definitely cursed Theo for the whole hairbrained scheme that was the reason for the trek in the first place.
Panting, they reached their destination. Theo couldn’t keep the skip out of his step as he led them deep into the cave, where Sirius was waiting for them on a plush twin sized mattress covered in much thicker blankets than he had the previous visit. Draco suddenly had a feeling that Theo knew something he and Blaise did not.
“Afternoon,” Sirius rasped at the approaching teenagers.
“Hiya, Sirius!” Theo greeted brightly. “Ready for the next lesson?”
“Are you?” The elder wizard said gruffly, although the corner of his lips twisted up slightly.
“Absolutely!” Theo grinned, pulling out the three small bags once more.
“Are you—gonna—tell—us—what’s in—the bags?” Blaise gasped, grappling with his need for rapid oxygen intake and his extreme frustration at Theo keeping a secret from them.
“Oh fine,” Theo rolled his eyes before opening each bag slowly, and carefully dumping its contents onto the comforter on the bed. The first bag opened and three leaves floated out into a little pile. The second bag contained three crystal phials that clinked together as they rolled out.
“What’s in the third bag?” Draco demanded, his curiosity heightened and Theo smirked wickedly, knowing he now had a very captive audience.
“Oh, well if you really need to know…” Theo drawled, enjoying the power play.
“For the love of Salazar! Just open the bag Nott!” Blaise snapped.
Theo and Sirius both barked a laugh as the tall, lanky boy handed the final, and slightly larger, bag to Sirius. The gaunt older wizard greedily grabbed the bag and opened it in one quick motion, sticking his nose in and smelling deeply.
“Abe’s Shepherd’s pie,” he drooled as he pulled the takeaway container from the bag.
“You’re welcome,” Theo chuckled. “Sirius, here, is a sucker for Aberforth’s shepherd's pie from the Hog’s Head.
Sirius grunted in thanks, but began shoveling large forkfuls of food into his mouth at a rapid pace. Once he had consumed enough to fend off his immediate hunger, he set the container aside and beckoned the teenagers closer. Draco approached, but Blaise stayed back apprehensively.
“Ah, an ooo’s ’is?” Sirius garbled around his still half-filled mouth, as he mashed the food a bit more before swallowing with an audible gulp.
“Blaise Zabini,” Draco presented, much as he had with Theo.
“Zabini, Zabini, can’t say I’ve ever heard the name—“ Sirius countered.
“I don’t imagine you have. It’s a name only few ever get to know, at least aside from myself. My mother prefers to keep a low profile—if you catch my drift,” Blaise said in turn.
“And you’re a friend of Draco’s?” Sirius asked, his face hardened with distrust.
“He is,” Draco supplied, throwing an arm around Blaise’s shoulders. Sirius watched the motion, calculating, before finally giving a nod of assent.
“You’re a lesson behind,” Sirius noted, swinging his arm to gesture to Blaise.
“We helped him through the meditation,” Theo offered casually, and Sirius gave both Theo and Draco an unusually sincere smile.
“Well done! Off to part two, then,” he waved his hand toward the bed with a flourish.
“What are we meant to do, then? Surely not take a nap?” Blaise asked incredulously.
“No!” Theo and Sirius said at the same time, both shaking their heads fervently. Draco had inched closer to the bed and picked up one of the leaves. They were dark green in color, and slightly waxy. By the shape and patterns of the point and veining, he was able to identify it as a Mandrake leaf—his new companion for the next thirty days.
“Take a Mandrake leaf and get comfy,” Draco correctly guessed, and Sirius grinned at him.
“Glad you boys read ahead, makes my job a little easier,” Sirius said as the three boys each took a Mandrake leaf. “Go ahead and pop it in your mouth,” he waited for them each to do so then barked out a loud laugh as each face screwed up in disgust. “Did I forget to mention how nasty they can taste? Oh well, you can take them out now,” he continued to laugh at their expense.
Draco mulled over the bitter earthy taste that roiled over his tongue before pulling the leaf out. It was decidedly one of the grossest things he’d ever tasted. Theo’s face fell at the instruction to remove the leaf. “Aren’t we supposed to leave it in for a month?” He asked.
“Right you are, but it’s gotta be from full moon to full moon, so you’d best wait until the twenty-eighth if you don’t want to bugger it all up,” Sirius said a little apologetically. “It’s only about a couple weeks away—use that extra time to collect the things you need for the next few steps.”
Theo nodded obediently, which Draco noted was extremely out of character considering Theo’s entire personality revolved around a distaste for authority and penchant for chaos. He decided he would have to tell his mother about Theo’s newfound idol as she would surely find it hilarious and oddly fitting. Of course it would take a convicted “mass murderer” to get Theo to listen, although his father wasn’t far off the mark aside from the convicted part, but I guess it would help that Sirius has yet to try to kill him…
“At least we’ll all be together on the twenty-eighth,” Blaise said thoughtfully.
Theo and Draco grinned. It would give them something to do when they eventually snuck off from the annual Malfoy Yule Gala. Sirius watched the three Slytherins having a silent conversation. He furrowed his brows before speaking.
“Cissa and Lucy are still having that thing?” He asked in slight disappointment.
“Why wouldn’t they? It’s their anniversary,” Draco said a little defensively.
“I just never pictured Cissa to be one to stick around with his sort,” Sirius grumbled, avoiding Draco’s hard glare.
“Yes, well, my parents are happily in love still, and I’m not sure what ‘sort’ you think my father is, but I can assure you you’re wrong,” Draco growled.
“Maybe it’s you who doesn’t know your father,” Sirius scowled at the younger wizard’s defiance.
“You know nothing!” Draco shouted in indignation.
“There is not a single redeeming quality about Lucius Malfoy. He is a Death Eater! Bet he didn’t tell you that!” Sirius shouted back, inching closer to the blonde.
“Actually he did, thanks, and he was undercover, you abominable twat! Again—YOU—KNOW—NOTHING!” Draco accented each word with a step toward the other man, until they stood nearly chest-to-chest, trying to size each other up.
“Wait what?” Sirius’s eyes glazed over as he tried to process each of the words his cousin had just used.
“Did you just call him an abominable twat?” Theo giggled like a little schoolgirl and Blaise cackled loudly, so much so that he had bent over, using his hands to prop his upper body against his knees.
“Maybe?” Draco cracked a grin.
“Did you say he was undercover? What does that even mean?” Sirius mumbled quietly, still trying to shove puzzle pieces into place to make them somehow fit.
“I think it’s time you see mum again,” Draco said a bit cryptically.