Chapter ten
The next morning, the Great Hall was aflutter with gossip about the Triwizard Tournament. As relieved as I was now that the secret was out, I wasn’t as eager to place my bets on who was going to enter their name. I scooped more potatoes onto my plate and listened to the conversations around me.
“I don’t know if my mum would let me,” a blonde-haired boy with huge blue eyes said.
“It doesn’t require parental consent, does it?” His dark-haired friend responded.
“I guess not…”
They continued on like this for another fifteen minutes before moving onto another conversation.
“I personally don’t think there should be any age restriction,” I heard a very loud Slytherin state.
He wasn’t the only one. There were plenty of sixth years and under who were disappointed that they couldn’t enter. In just one night, there were already plenty of rumors on how some students were planning to trick the age restriction entirely, with hopes that their magic was somehow stronger than Dumbledore’s.
I finished my breakfast and walked to my first class of the day, Transfiguration. As soon as I sat down near the back of the class, Lavender Brown walked into the room. Great.
“Heather! Oh, this is so exciting! We have class together!” Lavender squealed as she took the seat beside me.
“Yeah, fantastic,” I said.
“Aren’t you just freaking out about the news?” Lavender continued, oblivious to my sour mood.
“Um, not really.”
Lavender shook her head. “I can’t believe that they’ve been keeping this a secret for so long. I had no clue!”
Cho Chang and Delilah, two Ravenclaws, sat at the table beside us. They were both in the middle of their own conversation about the Tournament. Do people really have nothing else to talk about at this school?
“I don’t know, I might,” Cho said with a small smile.
“You might what?” Lavender interjected.
“I might enter, why not?” Cho said.
“Oh, no way!” Lavender said with a serious look on her face.
“I could never,” Delilah said, her face going white. I remember seeing that exact same expression on her face our first year during Quidditch class.
“It can’t be that bad, can it?” Cho said. She was doubting herself already.
“You’d be surprised,” I said.
“What about you, Heather? Are you going to enter?” Lavender asked.
I let out a laugh. “Me? No bleedin’ way. I want nothing to do with those games they have in store.”
Lavender tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean?”
They were all looking at me now, including a few other students nearby who were now interested in our conversation.
“I just mean, they have an age restriction on this Tournament for a reason, right?” I said.
“Wait a minute…” Lavender’s eyebrows furrowed. She was thinking, this is dangerous. “You interned with the International Magical Cooperation department, right?”
“Um, yes,” I said, afraid of where she was going with this.
“So that would mean you had to have known—”
Before she could finish, McGonagall entered the room, shushing all conversations.
I turned to look at her, ignoring Lavender’s questioning stare, and silently thanked Merlin for McGonagall. As much as I wasn’t thrilled to be in her class again, I had somehow earned enough marks on my OWLS to qualify for her NEWT level course. Last year I barely scraped by with my grades, to the point where McGonagall insisted I sit with a tutor each week before I made a complete fool of myself.
Part of me wonders if she went easy on me while grading my exam…
“Good morning, class,” McGonagall began, standing at the front of the room. “If you have made it this far into my course, then I do not need to worry about introduction or repetitions of class rules. You should all know by now what you can expect from me and what I expect from you.” McGonagall paused and gave everyone in the room a piercing look. She adjusted her glasses then continued. “There will be no dilly-dallying this year. Please open your books to chapter eleven where we will begin our lesson on human transfiguration.”
The rest of the class period consisted of multiple examples from McGonagall on what a successful human transfiguration should look like, followed by one failed attempt by Angus Petersfield that ended up with him being sent to the Hospital Wing. The amount of homework I had when leaving that class was enough to make me regret coming back to school at all.
Although, the perks of being in my final year meant that I didn’t have as many classes as previous years. After sitting through my next lesson (an incredibly long and drawn out lecture by Professor Sinatra on Dark Stars), I had my first break. I spent half of it napping in the Hufflepuff common room, and the other half waiting around for lunch. I could have begun my homework, but that can always wait.
At lunch, there was less talk about the Tournament as more people were griping about their classes. I wasn’t the only one feeling the strain of our final year. I peeked at the other tables and saw that multiple Gryffindors had their heads in their hands and the Slytherins were less talkative than normal. The chattiest table was the Ravenclaws, who looked completely unphased by the intense course load that they were all surely taking.
Herbology was like a breath of fresh air, literally and figuratively. It’s common knowledge that Hufflepuffs excel at Herbology, which no one really knows why. But it felt nice to be in a class of mostly Hufflepuffs, except for the stray Gryffindor and Ravenclaw here and there. I spotted Neville sitting at the other end of the workbench looking much more excited than he did in the Great Hall. Next to him was Hermione Granger, who seemed to be carrying more books than there were classes available at Hogwarts.
“Good afternoon, class!” Professor Sprout said, smiling wide at her students.
“Good afternoon, Professor,” we called back.
“Welcome to Greenhouse seven. Today, we will be reviewing our knowledge on Sneezewort! Now, can anyone tell me what the common side effects of this flower are?”
Hermione’s hand shot into the air.
“Yes, Miss Granger?”
“The Sneezewort, from the genus Archilla, are most effective in the inflaming of the brain,” she recited, “and are therefore most commonly used in Confusing and Befuddlement draughts. One will find themselves hot-headed and reckless while under the effects of the Sneezewort flower.”
“Very good, Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor,” Professor Sprout nodded. “Today I would like for you all to harvest these flowers, pick their petals, and prepare them in the proper way to create the perfect Befuddlement Draught. If you do so correctly, then Professor Snape will surely thank you for replenishing his stores.”
An hour and a half later, I was covered in dirt and sweat. But it was the first time today that I felt good about the work I did. I couldn’t wait to get back to the dormitories and take a nice, long shower.
“Heather, would you mind staying back?” Professor Sprout called as I put away my gloves and apron.
“Yes, Professor?”
She was dusting off her workstation, brushing loose leaves and soil onto the greenhouse floor. The rest of the class was leaving, including Neville who was pink in the cheeks and covered in more dirt than anyone.
“I wanted to see how you were doing, dear,” Professor Sprout began. She leaned against the table and gave me an earnest look. As my Head of House, I’m used to seeing this look of hers.
“I heard that you interned with the Ministry of Magic over the summer, is that right?” She continued.
“Oh, yeah, I did. IT was fun,” I said. I shifted on my feet, eager to get this conversation over with.
“Really? Do you think they’ll offer you a position after graduation?” She asked.
I should have known this was where our conversation was headed. I looked down at the workbench between us.
Professor Sprout cares about all her students, possibly even more than she cares about her plants. She makes sure that we are all well taken care of in both big and small ways. As a first year, it was a relief to know there was always someone in this giant school who had my back. As the years went on, I realized Professor Sprout had taken more of an interest in me than her other students.
Just before summer holiday, right after we received our exam scores, Professor Sprout took me aside. She asked me how I felt about my scores, what my plans for the break were, and whether I had thought anymore about what I wanted to do after graduation. She was trying to continue a conversation that we have had many times, first starting in fifth year when we were all required to have “career consultations” with our Head of House.
I cleared my throat. “Uh, maybe. But I don’t think that’s really my thing.”
“Hmm,” Professor Sprout nodded. “Well, I can’t tell you what to do,” she said with a smile, “but I don’t think it would hurt for you to pursue some other options. And you know that if you ever have any questions, you can always come to me, right?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“Great. Now, where are you headed, by chance?” She asked as she leaned off the table and brushed herself off.
“I was just going to the dormitories. I have a free period.”
“Perfect. You wouldn’t mind running these down to Professor Snape, would you?” Professor Sprout held out the box of Sneezewort petals.
“Uh, sure,” I said, although this was the last thing I wanted to do.
“Excellent. You’re saving me quite the trip! Oh, and here come the third years. They look like a rowdy bunch.” Professor Sprout began to prepare for her incoming class, and I took that as my cue to leave.
I balanced the box in my arms and carefully walked back to the castle. The sickly-sweet scent of the flower petals made me want to sneeze, but I didn’t want to risk it with such precious cargo.
Professor Sprout’s words echoed in my head. She’s done this to me three years in a row now, getting into my head about the future and what I want out of it. I’m perfectly fine ignoring reality and not planning, thank you very much!
I made the descent towards Snape’s classroom. The temperature difference made me shiver, the sweat from earlier feeling cold on my skin. I approached the door to his classroom and peered inside. Snape wasn’t at his desk and his office door was closed. Like most students, I had a healthy amount of fear of Snape, and entering his classroom without anyone else around made me nervous.
“Hello?” I said quietly.
I took a step further into the doorway.
“Professor Snape?” I said, my voice echoing in the empty room.
I took another step further.
“Professor—”
A figure appeared in the corner of my eye, startling me so bad I dropped the box of petals. The loud thud of the box hitting the ground bounced off the walls. I brought my hand to my chest, my heart racing. I looked up, expecting to see the furious face of Snape, only to see the face of another unsavory Slytherin looking down at me.
Malfoy held back a laugh as he watched my face go from startled, to shocked, to annoyed, and finally, angry.
“What are you doing?” I shouted as I bent down to pick up the box. Thankfully, the petals look fine if not a bit jostled.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Malfoy said. He began to walk around me, slowly circling me as though evaluating the best way to strike.
“It’s none of your business,” I said back. I shifted the box in my arms and turned on my heel so that my back was never to him.
“Hm, it looks like it might be some of my business,” he said. He raised his eyebrows as he peered into the box in my arms.
I moved backwards, angling the top of the box to my chest so that he couldn’t see inside.
“Is Snape around? I have something for him.” I tried to maintain my composure and remind myself the whole reason I came down here. My heart was still racing from dropping the box.
Malfoy stopped stalking me and leaned against one of the tables. He crossed one ankle over the other, looking the epitome of unbothered. I noticed he wasn’t wearing his robes. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up at the wrists, and his green tie underneath his vest was loosened. What was he up to here?
“He might be,” he said.
I narrowed my eyes. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”
Malfoy shrugged.
“Maybe,” he said.
“Do you know anything?”
Malfoy smirked.
“Depends.”
I groaned in frustration.
“Depends on what?”
Malfoy took his time answering. He examined his nails, flexing his hand and turning it back and forth. He finally let his hand drop then looked at me.
“Depends on who’s asking.”
What was he playing at? His eyes bore into mine, those damned grey eyes. Sometimes, they were so intense it felt like they were reading my mind.
“This is ridiculous,” I huffed. I walked past Malfoy and set the box down on top of Snape’s desk. I looked for something to write on so I could leave a note, but his desk was bare except for a few vials and a small cauldron.
“I wouldn’t leave that there if I were you,” Malfoy drawled from across the room.
“If you’re not going to help me, then just keep your mouth shut, would you?” I snapped back.
Malfoy chuckled. I rolled my eyes and picked up the box once more. A tall wooden bookshelf in the corner caught my eye. Most of the shelves were empty, with only a few jars and vials placed here and there. I can leave it here, I thought, as I approached the shelf. I slid the box in between two empty shelves. It fit perfectly.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Malfoy tutted.
“What now?”
“I wouldn’t leave it there, either,” he said in his self-righteous tone.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Anger rose in my chest. With each breath, I tried to stifle my frustration. I clenched and unclenched my fists.
“Where the bloody hell am I supposed to put these then?” I said through gritted teeth.
I grabbed the box once more, swiping it from between the shelves. Everything that followed happened so fast, there was no way to stop it once it began. As soon as I removed the box, the shelf that it was resting on jiggled. A chain reaction followed. One shelf after another wobbled loose, until all at once, they collapsed in one another. Jars, vials, tubes, stoppers, everything from the middle shelf and below came tumbling down in a loud crash.
I jumped back as shards of glass and strange liquids and powders fell onto the ground, just barely missing my pants.
I turned to look at Malfoy, my mouth hanging open in shock. His smirk was gone. His mouth was set in a straight line, his eyes wide, as he took in the damage. I tried to speak, but nothing came out.
“What is going on here?” The sinister voice of Severus Snape came from the doorway.
His expression was furious, more dangerous than I had ever seen him before. He took in the sight of me standing in the middle of the wreckage, his eyes narrowing further.
“What have you done?” He hissed.
“I-I’m so sorry—” I began, but he wasn’t listening.
“Do you know what you have just destroyed? Months of work! Priceless potions, innumerable ingredients that I have painstakingly gathered for years. What are you even doing here?” He came closer to me looking down at me as though I am nothing more than a bug he wanted to squash.
“Professor Sprout asked me to deliver these,” I said lamely as I motioned to the spilled box of Sneezewort. “I’m so sorry, Professor, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“You didn’t mean for this to happen. Oh, what a relief,” he snarled.
Malfoy sniggered. Snape turned in his direction, apparently just now realizing that he was there.
“And what use were you in this situation?” He snapped.
“Sorry, Professor, but I don’t think anyone could have prevented this from happening,” he said, the hint of a smirk still playing at his lips.
He must have thought his good graces with Professor Snape would save him here, but Snape was in no joking mood. Nothing could save Malfoy now.
“As my teaching assistant, I would expect you to commandeer any situation as it arises, instead of standing there altogether useless as you are. I see I have underestimated you and your capabilities in controlling a classroom.”
Malfoy didn’t respond, which only led to Snape continuing.
“Go ahead and laugh, boy, but you are laughing at what is now your problem.”
“My problem?” Malfoy repeated.
“Yes, your problem. These items will need to be replaced, will they not? And if I leave Miss Winters here, with her charming capability of ruining everything she touches, alone, then who knows what else she will destroy. And as my teaching assistant, I do believe this is part of your duties, is it not?”
“I would think you’d want my talents placed elsewhere, Professor,” Malfoy said. He looked at me briefly, then back at Snape, his eyes hardening.
“Talents? I think you will find your talents are being placed exactly where they belong,” Snape snapped back.
Malfoy stared back at the Professor; his eyes void of all emotion. Either this wasn’t scaring him, or he was so used to Snape’s tirades that it didn’t bother him at this point.
Just as I thought that Snape had forgotten about me, he whirled around to face me once more.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you,” Snape said and my eyes went wide. “You will be staying to clean this up before my next class arrives. And then you and Mr. Malfoy here will replenish my supplies until all of these potions have been replaced. I will compile a list of what has been destroyed and I expect both of you,” Snape turned to look at Malfoy once more, “to be here each night after supper to brew them. Correctly.”
Snape turned and walked towards his desk.
“Professor, sir, I don’t see why it’s necessary for me to be here as well—” Malfoy started.
Snape spun around and stalked back towards Malfoy. He peered at Malfoy down his long nose. They were almost the same height, but no matter how intimidating Malfoy may seem to the underclassmen, no one can compare to Snape.
“You don’t understand? What I don’t understand is how this happened in the first place, considering you were supposed to be organizing that shelf while I was gone. Furthermore, I don’t think Miss Winters here is capable of brewing these potions unattended. Her OWLS are testament enough to that.”
Snape walked back to his desk, his long black robe billowing out behind him. “My class will be here in twenty minutes, Miss Winters. I suggest you stop gawking and start moving,” he said without turning around.
I shook my head, coming back to reality.
Malfoy was still standing in the middle of the room, staring straight ahead. I went into the supply cabinet and got out a pair of safety gloves and tongs. If I learned one thing in Potions, it’s how to clean up a mess… that I made.
When I looked up next, Malfoy was staring directly at me. His eyebrows were narrowed, casting dark shadows over his eyes. He didn’t even flinch at me for catching his gaze. I looked back down at the ground, my face growing hot, and picked up the final pieces of glass. As I stood up, I could hear the sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs outside.
“I’ve finished, Professor,” I said. I held the now half-empty box of Sneezewort petals, which I would now have to tell Professor Sprout that we needed to harvest more. I’m not looking forward to that.
“Very well then. Leave those on the shelf and you may leave. I will see you both tomorrow night.” Snape said without looking up.
I placed the box down, this time on a more stable looking shelf, and walked out of the classroom. A gaggle of fourth years passed me as they headed towards Snape’s room. Part of me wanted to warn them not to dare breath wrong in his presence.
“Good job with that one, truly,” Malfoy said as he came up behind me. His jaw was clenched as he stared straight ahead.
“Oh, yeah, because you were so much help,” I said.
“This won’t be easy. And I won’t let you slow us down. There were dozens of potions on that shelf you so royally destroyed.”
“Don’t worry, Malfoy, I won’t get in your precious way.”
Malfoy turned to look at me. “Good.”
He picked up his pace and turned the corner before I could respond. Another wave of fourth years came down the stairs. I pushed through them and headed to the Hufflepuff basement. I was still covered in dirt from Herbology and now my right shoe was turning a strange shade of green from one of the potions spilling on me. With most of my free period now gone, I only had enough time for a quick shower.
I changed into a fresh pair of robes and threw my ruined shoes into the corner of my room. My hands shook as I buttoned my shirt. This was only my first day of seventh year and I’ve already ruined my chances of having a normal, quiet year. I ran a shaky hand over my face. What was I thinking? The worst part was that now I’m stuck working with Malfoy, yet again.
I must have inhaled too much of those Sneezewort petals because I was feeling particularly hot-headed and reckless at the moment. I took a deep breath and steadied myself. I still had one class to go and then it would be dinnertime. And then tomorrow, I would somehow have to survive brewing an unknown number of potions with Malfoy for an undetermined amount of time. Fantastic.