Meeting the Master
Chapter 4: Meeting the Master
Draco was quickly passing ‘annoyed’ and balancing between ‘irritated’ and ‘perturbed’. If he was almost late to one more class because the Boy Who Lived fan club blocked the corridors again, he would unleash a fury. Honestly, there was nothing special to see about the raven-haired boy. If anything he was comically unobservant and seemed to attract the Gryffindor misfits. It was a wonder he hadn’t fallen off a staircase or disappeared into a forgotten part of the castle yet.
Draco Malfoy took pride in his studies and was raised to respect punctuality. It was merely another reason to feel slighted by precious Potter as it was his fame causing Draco to lose more sleep and study time in order to leave early enough for class so as not to be late.
It also didn’t help that one of his times tables coincided with Gryffindor’s. Not only did he have to hear about Potter all day, he had to look at the stupid Scarface for a double Potions class each week too.
Draco’s resentment had grown monumentally since their last interaction on the train. It festered each night, when he would replay the events in his mind over, and over until he fell asleep. Then, he would dream about them: what he could’ve said, could’ve done differently. Naturally, he would wake fuming at himself for the opportunity he had squandered, or at Potter for his blatant refusal of friendship, not to mention the level of embarrassment he felt from the whole event.
However, despite Draco’s generally poor attitude, he seemed to stay in the good graces of most of his professors, if for no other reason than his high marks and dedication to their classes. The only time Draco felt like his true self was in class or lounging in the common room with Theo and Blaise.
As Friday arrived, Draco joined Theo and Blaise up in the Great Hall for breakfast, Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind him. They all enjoyed an easy silence as they ate. Draco took slow bites of a juicy green apple and stared into space, still sleepy from a long night of tossing and turning.
“Draco! Draco! Anyone there?” Theo chuckled as he snapped his fingers in front of Draco’s face.
Draco blinked a few times, and realizing the direction he had been staring at, turned his head quickly. He had been staring at her with a lame dreamy expression on his face no doubt. He could tell she hadn’t noticed, however. Her nose still firmly stuck in a rather large book.
“What’s up first today?” Draco mumbled half-heartedly.
“Double-potions with the lions,” Blaise smirked. “We’ll finally get to see Potter knocked down a peg or two.”
Draco smiled inwardly. Finally, it would be a good day. He had briefly met Severus Snape along with the rest of the First Year Slytherins on their first morning in the castle. He swept into the common room to introduce himself and demand excellence from them. Then, just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.
…
The young Slytherins made their way back down toward the dungeons, taking their time as they knew the way quite well by now. Draco and Theo were in an animated conversation about Quidditch and their favorite teams when they were jolted apart by a hurried head of wayward frizz.
What the bloody hell was that about? Surely she couldn’t be trying to get to class in that big of a hurry. It didn’t even start for another twenty minutes!
The Slytherin boys stared dumbfounded at her retreating form. Draco was rather annoyed at being shoved around so rudely, but he had to admit he appreciated her commitment to being on time, unlike Potter and Weasel who were continuously late for everything.
What am I saying? She’s a disgrace to our world! And she doesn’t even deserve to be here! A Muggleborn? She had to have stolen her Magic from someone else!
Draco’s temper rose white-hot with righteous anger. He had heard the rumors from Pansy the first morning after they arrived. Granger was, in fact, a ‘mudblood’ as his father would say. At least he’d get to watch her swotty arse get handed to her. From what Adrian Pucey, a Third Year Slytherin, had told him, Snape loved to intimidate and mock the students from other houses, especially Gryffindors.
As they entered the Potions classroom, Draco sat at a long table with Crabbe and Goyle to his right and Blaise and Theo sat behind him. She was naturally sitting in the front row, as close to Snape’s desk as she could possibly be. Draco rolled his eyes. It was the logical place for her—a know-it-all, to sit, but she had just made a grave mistake in drawing the Potions Master’s attention.
The rest of the class began to filter in in small groups. Pansy, Daphne, and Tracy took the table in front of him and all sent simpering smiles in his direction as they took their seats, leaving Blaise and Theo in a fit of chortling behind him and Draco was just plain confused.
Snape began by taking the register, only stopping when he got to Potter. Here we go. Finally!
“Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity,” Snape drawled.
Draco and many of the other snakes sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished taking roll and looked up at the class with cold, black eyes.
“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,’ he spoke quietly. “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 as I usually have to teach.”
The room was silent and Draco was hanging on every word out of the Potion Master’s down-turned mouth. He did notice, however, that Granger was so ready to prove him wrong she was about to fall out of her seat.
“Potter!” Snape snapped. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”
Draught of Living Death, naturally.
Granger’s hand had shot into the air at a shocking speed. Potter simply looked up at Snape, clearly confused.
“I don’t know, sir,” Potter mumbled.
Snape sneered at the school’s Golden Boy. “Tut, tut – fame clearly isn’t everything.”
He disregarded the Muggle-born’s hand, which was waving as high as she could muster.
“Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”
Goat stomach. Oh, come on Potter, I’m sure you must know this one. Even a two year old could tell you that!
Granger was stretching her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, though she was very nearly going to topple out of it with the slightest movement. Potter clearly had no idea and was making it a point not to look at Draco’s table as they were quietly dying of laughter.
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?”
This was definitely worth the wait. Now if only we could have Potions with the Gryffindors every term from now until Graduation, this whole arrangement might end up okay.
Potter was staring Snape down defiantly, and to his credit, Draco was a little impressed he could hold the man’s stare that long without wavering.
Snape was still ignoring Granger’s ridiculous antics, which were almost as comical as the beat-down Potter was taking from Snape.
“What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”
As the last syllable of the question rolled off his tongue, the Muggle-born moron actually stood up, her hand stretching towards the ceiling, hand waving through the air.
What in Salazar’s name is she doing?! Does she sincerely think that she’ll get any kind of good response from Snape now?
Draco was trying to keep high laughter quiet but he felt a tear roll down his face.
“I don’t know, I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?”
A few people laughed, but the Slytherins all fell silent and serious, waiting to see what would happen next.
“Sit down,” he snapped at the know-it-all. He turned his attention back to Potter. “For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”
Draco had made notes prior to class and simply placed an asterisk next to the points Snape had mentioned during his tirade. The rest of the class, however, began rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, “And a point will be taken from Gryffindor house for your cheek, Potter.”
Things only continued to get better for the Slytherins as the class went on. They were paired up to make a simple potion to cure boils. Snape watched them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs. As he did so, his long black robes swept across the dungeon floors rather over-dramatically Draco thought, but let it go seeing as Snape was criticising almost everyone except himself. Thankfully, Snape seemed to actually like him.
Just as Snape began telling everyone to look at the perfect way Draco had stewed his horned slugs, acid green smoke clouds and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Toad-Boy had somehow managed to melt Finnegan’s cauldron into a twisted blob and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people’s shoes.
Pansy shrieked as it made its way toward the front of the room. In reality, it was nowhere near her, but Draco rolled his eyes noticing she was wearing her favorite pair of designer shoes. She and the other two girls at her table climbed up on their stools making a big show of their ‘horror’.
Within seconds, the whole class were standing on their stools while the Wit-less Wonder who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.
“Idiot boy!” Snape sneered, vanishing the mess with a wave of his wand. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?”
Longbottom whimpered as more and more blistering boils started to pop up all over his face.
“Take him up to the hospital wing,” Snape snarled at Finnegan. Then he turned on Potter and the Weasel, who had been working at the table next to Toad-Boy.
“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 another point you’ve lost for Gryffindor.”
Draco was grinning ear to ear. This class really could not have gone any better even if he had planned it himself.
…
The rest of the day flew by after that—lessons were relatively easy to follow along since he had taken notes to be well-prepared. Draco and Blaise made their way up to the Great Hall for a late lunch and Draco received his post—a single letter from his mother, and a copy of The Daily Prophet .
He lazily flicked through the paper, noting there had been a break-in at Gringotts, which was quite shocking as it had never been done.
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 was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.
‘But we’re not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what’s good for you,’ said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.
Draco read and re-read the article a few times, still unable to make heads or tails of how someone would be able to break into the wizarding bank. Tossing it aside, the blonde sliced open the envelope from his mother.
Dearest Draco,
We received your letter with the news of your Sorting. Your father and I are both so proud of you—another Slytherin in the family, as we knew you would be. I am so sorry we had to miss your departure, but know that I would not have missed it if I had the choice.
I do hope you are making some friends, and I am pleased to hear you are reconnecting with Theodore. He was always such a sweet boy. What of our lovely Miss Parkinson, surely you are spending time with her as well?
Your father and I have some rather exciting news to share with you when you come home at the end of term, but I dare not tell you in a letter. I am sure you will be quite fond of the news.
Your father is having some difficulties at work, as of late. He seems to have misplaced something very important. I cannot be certain what it is, as he would never confide that in me. He is also attempting to get onto the school’s Board of Governors, which would mean he could visit more frequently. Wouldn’t that be lovely?
Please continue to write to me as often as you can, I fear my days are rather dull without you around.
Stay strong, my Little Dragon,
Narcissa D. Malfoy
Draco was unaware that his father even had work to attend to, let alone something he could be having difficulties in. Lucius Malfoy rarely met an obstacle he couldn’t plow over in mere seconds. What was more distressing was the fact his father would essentially be supervising him in every way. His freedom would end the moment his father was elected onto the Hogwarts Board of Governors.
Blaise noticed the droop in Draco’s expression and gently inquired. “Bad news?”
Blaise Zabini was one of those people who knew what everyone around him was thinking but let them tell their side of things anyway. He was quickly becoming the Slytherin secret-keeper for that reason.
“My father might be joining the Board of Governors for Hogwarts,” Draco muttered gloomily.
“That might not be so bad—maybe he could help get you a shot at the Quidditch tryouts.”
“I really don’t believe that is his intention, or even remotely near the top of his to-do list, Blaise.” Draco grumbled with a slight eye roll.
“Is there something else bothering you?” Blaise probed.
“It’s just that my father is having trouble with work and he never had trouble with work. Ever. I’m concerned whatever it is will affect the whole family. Mother wouldn’t have mentioned it if she didn’t think I should be even just a little aware of what is going on, I just wish she had sent more details…” Draco trailed off realizing he had started talking more to himself than Blaise.
Zabini simply nodded in somber solidarity. Draco knew he shouldn’t be speaking about family matters, especially weaknesses, with outsiders—but Blaise and Theo had shared so much of their own lives with him and were beginning to feel like family too.
In silent agreement to not speak of it again, the two boys set themselves to finishing their lunches and rushed off to the common room to meet Theo and the girls.