Seeker
Chapter 5: Seeker
The next morning, each of the Second Year boys woke with a moderate headache. They had each slipped quite a few glasses of the champagne Pansy had reserved for herself and the older students. They had stayed up late into the early hours of the morning and barely made it to sleep before the sun started to make its ascent into the sky.
They all woke groggily to an alarm Blaise had luckily remembered to set before they collapsed into their beds.
“Why…” Theo whinged as he pulled a pillow tightly over his head.
“C’mon mate, we’re all miserable, let’s at least go eat something,” Blaise grumbled.
“Water—I need water,” Draco groaned.
The three boys silently dressed and sluggishly moved to the Great Hall for breakfast. The tables were lined with porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast, and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling which was sporting a dullish gray.
They took their seats and started making their plates on autopilot—passing the toast to Blaise, the eggs to Theo, bacon to Draco and shoving the porridge further down the table. A large cup of tea appeared in front of Theo and cups of coffee appeared in front of Draco and Blaise.
Moments into their breakfast, the owls began swooping through the Hall dropping packages and letters to their various recipients. Draco nimbly caught a small package with a letter tied to it. Just as he was about to open it, when a high-pitched shrieking echoed from the Gryffindor table, dust even shook from the rafters.
“—STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY’D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE —” a shrill voice who Draco assumed was Mrs. Weasley’s yelled, mading the plates and spoons rattle on the table, and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls.
Everyone in the hall was swiveling around to see who had received the Howler, and Weasley sank so low in his chair that only his crimson forehead could be seen.
“—LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED —”
Potter’s face paled at the mention of his name, but he looked like he was trying very hard to pretend he didn’t hear a thing.
“—ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED — YOUR FATHER’S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME.”
A ringing silence fell. The red envelope, which had dropped from Weasley’s hand, burst into flames and curled into ashes. Potter and the Weasel sat stunned. A few people laughed and, gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.
Draco’s headache had completely evaporated and he had suddenly adopted a rather sunny disposition. Maybe the year wouldn’t be so bad if there’s more of that to look forward to. His eyes were still on the Gryffindors and he noticed Granger’s stern expression as she was surely telling the two idiots they had it coming.
Before Draco could daydream about her telling them off, Professor Snape stormed into the Great Hall like an angry bat, with an arm-full of timestables to hand out. He tossed parchment after parchment at the Slytherin students until Draco, Theo, and Blaise were the only ones left waiting for the schedules for the year.
“Mr. Malfoy, you and your lackeys will meet me in my office tonight at six o’clock sharp. Am I understood?” The three boys nodded, and Snape tossed them their class schedules before disappearing just as quickly as he had arrived.
“Transfiguration…Herbology…double Potions with Gryffindor again?!” Theo moaned.
“Don’t worry about it too much, I’m sure even they’ll be takin’ the piss outta Potter and Weasley over that Howler this morning,” Blaise smiled as he replayed the event in his mind.
As they walked to McGonagall’s classroom, Pansy, Daphne, and Tracey were following behind attempting their best imitations of Mrs. Weasley.
…
Transfiguration was pretty boring. Usually McGonagall’s classes were at least somewhat challenging, but he had casually transformed his beetle into a button and back a few different times. He changed the design of the button each time just for the sake of looking busy. By the time the bell had rung, he’d come up with fourteen variations of buttons…he’d almost died of boredom.
From there, the Slytherins traipsed outside and down to the greenhouses, where an irritated-looking Professor Sprout was waiting for them. Instead of the usual greenhouse one, they were shuffled into greenhouse three.
The moment they stepped inside, Draco knew what they were about to be doing. There was dirt and manure messily strewn over all of the workstations, and recently re-potted Mandrakes were shoved up against the left wall. In the center of the room was a pile of different colored earmuffs laying on a bench.
“We’ll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake,” Professor Sprout started as soon as the last student had taken their place at their bench.
Pansy lazily half raised her hand to answer, “it’s a restorative for someone who’s been cursed or transfigured.”
“Excellent, Miss Parkinson! Ten points to Slytherin,” the stout witch smiled, her mood seeming to improve some. As much as Pansy hated to admit it, she did really well in Herbology and was one of Professor Sprout’s favorites.
“Anyone else want to fill in what she missed?”
“Its cry will kill you.” Draco spat out quickly.
“Wonderful, Mr. Malfoy, yes! Another ten points. A Mandrake’s cry will kill anyone who hears it, however the Mandrakes you will be working with today are not mature yet, and therefore will only render you unconscious for a few hours,” she stated as she gestured to another crop of tufty purplish-green plants behind her.
She pointed to the row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants were growing there in rows. They weren’t much to look at, the gardens at Malfoy Manor had a small section of Mandrakes for potion ingredient purposes, and for whatever reason, his mother was somewhat endeared to the ugly buggers.
“Everyone take a pair of earmuffs,” said Professor Sprout.
There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn’t pink and fluffy.
“When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered,” said Professor Sprout. “When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right — earmuffs on.”
Everyone tightly pushed down on the flaps of their earmuffs as she wretched one free from its pot. A small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing out of its ‘head’ and held a greenish hue. It began screeching the moment it was exposed, and she quickly deposited it into a larger pot and sprinkled some dirt around it until only the leaves were visible. She gave the thumbs up to remove their earmuffs, which the Ravenclaws did quickly in order to hear the next instructions. The Slytherins, however, took theirs off reluctantly.
“Make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up. Four to a tray — there is a large supply of pots here — compost in the sacks over there — and be careful of the Venemous Tentacula, it’s teething.”
She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.
“Wicked!” Pansy grinned, evidence of dangerous and ingenious thoughts flashed across her face.
Draco shook his head with a short chuckle at the sight of her. Always scheming. The boys set to work re-potting their Mandrakes and eventually the bell rang to signal the end of another class period.
Walking back toward the castle, the Slytherins took a shortcut through the courtyard. As they came to the top of the cobblestone steps, Draco could make out Granger sitting on a step near the other entrance to the school, sitting with a book in her lap. Her cheeks were a blushed pink and she looked frazzled. What have those two done to her now?!
Draco was instantly heated with irritation at the way her so-called friends seemed to treat her on a regular basis. Potter and Weasley were standing nearby talking loudly about Quidditch, completely ignoring the girl beside them.
A small, mousy-haired Gryffindor approached Potter from behind and asked him for a picture, at least that’s what Draco assumed since the kid pulled out a large camera and gestured to it excitedly. The blonde scowled when he heard the boy wanted Perfect Potter to sign a bloody photo.
“It’s amazing here, isn’t it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad’s a milkman, he couldn’t believe it either. So I’m taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it’d be really good if I had one of you” — he looked imploringly at Harry — “maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?”
Yeah Potter go autograph some rubbish for your little fans while you ignore the brightest and only witch that even cares about you!
“Signed photos? You’re giving out signed photos, Potter?” Loud and scathing, Draco’s voice echoed around the courtyard.
He had stopped right behind the First Year Gryffindor, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as Theo and Blaise caught up to them.
“Everyone line up!” Malfoy roared to the crowd. “Harry Potter’s giving out signed photos!”
“No, I’m not,” said Potter angrily, his fists clenching clearly from embarrassment. “Shut up, Malfoy.”
Good. You should be embarrassed by how you treat her.
“You’re just jealous,” piped up the little lion, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe’s neck.
“Jealous?” Draco dared, as half the courtyard listened in. “Of what? I don’t want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don’t think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself.”
The Slytherins were all gathered around the group and were sniggering.
“Eat slugs, Malfoy,” the Weasel shouted angrily. Crabbe stopped laughing and started rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way.
At least these two dolts are good for bodyguards.
“Be careful, Weasley,” Draco sneered. “You don’t want to start any trouble or your Mommy’ll have to come and take you away from school.” He put on a shrill, piercing voice. “‘If you put another toe out of line’—”
A knot of Slytherin fifth-years nearby laughed loudly at this. It had become a running joke in less than an hour—who could do the best impression of Molly Weasley’s howler.
“Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter,” smirked Malfoy. “It’d be worth more than his family’s whole house—“
Weasley whipped out his Spellotaped wand—aiming at Draco, but before he could even attempt any kind of curse or jinx, Granger slammed shut her copy of Voyages with Vampires with a snap and whispered, “Look out!”
“What’s all this, what’s all this?” Gilderoy Lockhart was striding toward them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. “Who’s giving out signed photos?”
Potter attempted to speak, but he was cut short as Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered jovially, “Shouldn’t have asked! We meet again, Harry!”
Pinned to Lockhart’s side and burning with humiliation, Potter shot a glare at Draco, who was smirking back at him as he joined the crowd of snakes slithering back into the castle.
…
“Hey, Draco, wait up!” Theo called as he and Blaise shoved past a few fifth years. He whispered when they finally caught up to Draco, “you didn’t have to say something about his mum ya know…”
The blonde instantly felt guilty. He hadn’t even thought before he’d said the words out loud. Of course it would’ve hurt Theo for someone to bad mouth a dead mother—well it was inexcusable and most definitely uncalled for.
“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, Theo. I know it’s not an excuse but I wasn’t even thinking before I said it—“
Theo tossed an arm over his shoulder and gave him a lopsided grin. “No worries, I didn’t think you really meant anything by it, but it was hitting a bit below the belt.” Draco nodded solemnly back at him.
“So what d’you guys think about Lockhart?” Blaise questioned conspiratorially.
“He’s a right git,” Draco quickly muttered under his breath.
Theo looked at him with raised brows, “and would this have anything to do with your dear mother being infatuated with him? Or is this more about Granger greedily devouring his books in public instead of making heart-eyes at you during every Potter-Weasley confrontation?”
Blaise barked a sharp laugh, “he has a point, mate!”
Draco huffed loudly and stomped his way to the Great Hall for their lunch period, his friends trailing behind as they attempted to stifle their laughs.
…
Six o’clock rolled around entirely too quickly. The boys were working with empty stomachs as dinner hadn’t been served yet, and Draco was exhausted. They trudged down to the dungeons for their meeting with Snape.
All in all, it was a relatively short meeting. Draco was to start back up with Occlumency lessons the following evening, and the trio was in for yet another year of snooping around the Golden Gryffindors.
Snape was insistent that they should keep their eyes peeled for any strange behavior. Draco filled them in on what he knew about the small journal his father had slipped in with the Weaselette’s books at Flourish & Blotts. Snape nodded that Arthur Weasley should’ve been able to take care of that and hand it over to the Ministry as soon as he found it.
Blaise and Theo were to follow Potter and Weasley as much as possible as they would draw much less attention than Draco would. He was tasked, of course, with monitoring Granger. That was fine by him, he would be able to spend most of his time in the library then.
…
By the end of dinner, Draco had worked up the courage to talk to Marcus Flint. He knew he was only a Second Year, but he was good—really good. Modesty was never a Malfoy trait, but Draco wasn’t bragging either. Since Higgs had graduated the previous year, Slytherin would need a new Seeker, and Draco was the obvious choice.
After dinner, Draco found him sitting in one of the large armchairs fiddling with his wand, trying to light the end of a cigar. Draco had always been taught smoking was a nasty habit for occupying common folk, and while he didn’t necessarily think it was a sign of pedigree, he still found it rather tasteless especially indoors. Shaking the distracting thoughts from his mind, Draco reminded himself that now was his chance. He marched over to where Flint was perched.
“Flint,” the younger Slytherin approached casually, as if he had only just noticed the older student’s presence.
“Ehh, Malfoy, what can I do for you?” he said with a slimy smile.
“Well, Flint, it’s your lucky day,” Malfoy feigned disinterest and inspected his nails, “the question is what can I do for you?”
Marcus Flint’s interest was most definitely piqued.
“Oh? And what’s that, Malfoy?” The smarmy Quidditch Captain grinned wider, baring his crooked and grotesque teeth.
“I believe you’re in desperate need of a Seeker.”
“Oh, and I suppose a puny Second Year like yourself is going to offer your services? Shove off, Malfoy.” Flint laughed him off as a child wanting to play with the big boys.
“Don’t believe me? Let’s go let the Snitch loose on the pitch and you can time me. Under four minutes and I’m the new Seeker.” Draco crossed his arms with a smirk.
“Pretty full of yourself, eh?” Flint considered the proposal for only a moment before rising up out of his chair. “Fine. You’ve got a deal, but do you even have a broom?”
Draco sent a sharp nod across the room and Goyle disappeared into the boys dorms for a few moments before returning with a broomstick. Marcus Flint’s eyebrows nearly lifted off his forehead in shock.
“Is-is-is that a—“
“Nimbus 2001,” Draco couldn’t help but feel a little smug. He didn’t want his name alone to be the reason he got his position on the team, but his father’s gift would definitely help in both getting the position and helping him be fastest to catch any Snitch.
Draco let Flint lead the way to the pitch. The rest of the team decided to tag along—they would either get to congratulate their newest team member or humiliate a Malfoy—either way it was a win-win for them. Draco didn’t mind the audience, he liked a little showboating when it came to his flying. Chasers Graham Montague and Adrian Pucey gathered next to Flint and their Keeper, Miles Bletchley. The two beaters stood off to the side, keeping to themselves. Draco hadn’t met them yet, but they appeared to be good at their positions from what he could remember from the previous season.
Broom in hand, Draco moved to the middle of the pitch and kicked off. He rose through the air and then hovered near the top of the stands. Flint pulled a small golden Snitch out of his pocket, holding on tightly.
“Alright, Malfoy, you ready?” the Captain called up to him.
“Ready!” He called back down.
Someone below, he couldn’t tell who it was in the darkness, flicked a wand and a large glowing stopwatch appeared set to four minutes.
“Three…two…one…GO!” Flint released the Snitch into the darkness.
Draco watched it zip and zoom around his head as it glimmered in the light from the full moon. It soared across the pitch in mere seconds. He wasted no time in starting the chase, leaning flat to his broom to reduce his wind resistance. He hadn’t had much time to try out his new broomstick, but the Nimbus 2001 was no joke. He had never flown so fast—he felt like he was a hawk soaring and diving for its prey.
The Snitch took a sharp turn and looped around one of the far hoops. Draco followed its flight path with such intense focus—it was rather lucky he had such a slender frame as he had a few near misses with hoops and the stands.
3:00 left.
The Snitch dove suddenly and Draco followed suit—this time keeping an eye on the quickly approaching ground. He had only practiced the maneuver twice before, but after seeing Potter do it by accident, Draco knew he would need to master the skill. He executed a perfect Wronski Feint—except this time, he wasn’t trying to trick an opponent. Draco reached out and snatched the Snitch out of the air, pulling up at the last second, just inches from the ground below.
2:00 left.
Draco waved the Snitch as the small crowd gathered below him cheered loudly. He gently touched down on the pitch and dismounted his broom. He tossed the glittering golden Snitch to Flint with a smirk.
“Two minutes good enough for you?” Draco asked condescendingly.
“Deals a deal, Malfoy. You’re the new Seeker,” Flint said, sporting a twisted smile. “Gryffindor won’t know what hit them!”
With that, cheering erupted among the Slytherin Quidditch team as they celebrated their newest Seeker.