A Perfect Potion Means Trouble
"I will be setting partners for the remainder of the month," our Potions Master, Professor Slughorn announced to the mumbling sixth year class before him. The old man had grown, if possible, even older. He had wrinkles covering his face; his belly seemed to have become saggy and he had shrunk in height over the years. Talk about unattractive.
"They will be Gryffindor/Slytherin, Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff pairs," he added, smirking at our outraged expressions, Gryffindor/Slytherin?! The old used up rag had lost his touch! Then again, he always did that, and I always end up with him.
"And no complaining, or risk detention. Now, we have Amelia Finnigan and Jonathan Longbottom first." Damn, just when the protesting was really starting!
The perfect loving couple walked to the front desk together and grinned, setting up their cauldrons.
"Roxanne Weasley and Donté Zabini," the man-hag continued, eyes shining eagerly.
Oh Great Godric, why? Of all people it just happened to be him? No! This was no coincidence, The Ol' Slug loved to watch us bickering, and fighting over trivial things like knives. Yeah, I know knives. Anyway, my point was, I loathed this particular sixth-year with every fiber of my being! I don't know how he felt, but I was pretty sure this whole this was mutual. No, I was positive.
I knew for a fact was definitely not going to be the one to move to him. Pftt! The very idea was ridiculous! So he obviously came and sat next to me, rolling his ugly green eyes as he did so which made me grit my teeth in response. The moment his butt actually touched the seat next to me I growled. Yeah, I growled. Man, I really hate that ugly mug…
Not that he is ugly. He's actually quite attractive. He is mixed race, his father being the infamous black Blaise Zabini and his mother probably some random bimbo Zabini Sr. picked up in the Battle of Hogwarts. With permanently tanned skin, a toned chest from years on the Quidditch pitch, floppy and sleek black hair that fell about his green eyes, a cocky attitude and the sexy smirk to go with it, some would say Donté Zabini was attractive. But, they don't know him like I do; he's just your average jerk, just a bit more infuriating.
And me? I have the half white-and-half black Angelina Johnson as my mother and the last Weasley twin, George as my father, so I'm only a quarter black. I must say, I'm shockingly offended when people ask why I have brown curly hair and I'm white. What the fuck? That is so rude! Well, I am quite pale though, with a few brown freckles dotted about my nose, dark blue eyes, and a slight tan on my arms and legs. Hmm… maybe I do look all white.
I received a sharp nudge in the ribs and was shaken out of my thoughts by Slughorn frowning at my lack of concentration.
"Sorry Sir," I mumbled, smiling innocently.
There was a snicker to my right and I sent a quick glare in Zabini's direction before facing the front again.
"As I was saying, you will me making the Draught of Time. The stronger the potion, the further back to the past it will take you. We, of course have only enough time to make the version that takes you to the past. The instructions are on the board, you time begins… now!"
I continued sitting in my seat; so did Zabini. After a few moments, I finally got impatient.
"Well, what're you waiting for, Zabini?" I hissed at him, interrupting the winking game currently going on with him and a random Ravenclaw girl.
"Nothing?" He replied uncertainly, his brow wrinkling in confusion.
"Go get the ingredients!" I literally screamed at him. The boy practically scrambled to get to the storage cupboard and came back with his arms laden with things like Newt's eyes. Urghh…
An hour later, and it was like, the fifth time Slughorn had decided to intervene in one of our infamous fights. This time, I was brandishing a cutting knife and was screeching like a madwoman. Zabini had put those horrible, slimy Newt's eyes down the back of my school blouse. Eww! I know, Newt's Eyes! Well you can imagine how I felt…
I managed to wrench myself out of Slughorn's tight grip and charged at the accused. He tried to back away but bumped into our cauldron, causing it to spill all over his robes and the floor. I jumped onto him pinning him on the floor, a maniacal glint in my eye. The prey was cornered. Ugh, and our robes were soaking too. Being drenched in a Draught of Time potion is never a good sign.
I glanced over at Slughorn who was chuckling when he saw me tackle Zabini but now had a look of utmost horror on his ageing face.
"The potion! Brewed correctly… sent to the past… oh dear… GET OUT OF THERE!!"
The man was off his head then, I mean, 'get out of there?' Get out of where exactly? A stupidly correctly brewed potion?
Oh dear Godric…
My eyes widened and I looked down at Zabini below me; his expression mirrored my own. The last thing I could remember was that horrified face as I was swept into the cold embrace of darkness.