(Cat)astrophe!
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
Author's Notes: Oh goody, we're in chapter three! Now comes the good part…
Warnings/Disclaimers: All Harry Potter names, places, and related indicia are copyright to JK Rowling. All Final Fantasy "loot/sundry items" and "monsters" are copyright to SquareEnix. Loraine Ingleton is the intellectual property of Moraine Lendreth. Use of the character in stories not penned by said author is a violation of her intellectual property rights.
Please read and review afterwards.
o0o0o0o
Chapter 3 – The First Catastrophe
Hermione looked back as they started to descend the winding stairs, Lors already three steps ahead of her. Ron was only just closing the door, his face marred by a troubled expression. She waited for him to come to her, absently holding her hand as they began to descend the steps. Lors was already gone from sight.
She squeezed his hand. "Something wrong?"
"Wrong? Nothing, nothing's wrong. Why? Do I look like there's something wrong?"
Hermione could not help the chuckle that escaped her lips. "You're a really bad liar, you know that, Ronald? Both you and Harry."
Ron looked indignant for a second before it melted into a sigh. He looked morosely at her. "Am I really that bad? Ginny said I couldn't lie to save my life, but I didn't believe her."
Hermione patted the hand that was holding her own. "It's not that bad," she consoled with a soft smile. "So…what's wrong with Harry?"
"How'd you know it was Harry?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just answer the question, Ron."
"Well…" Ron began hesitantly, "Harry didn't want to come with us."
Hermione tilted her head. "What's wrong with that?"
"But Hermione," Ron retorted in a slight whine, "Malfoy's in that room! With Harry! Alone! Harry'd never want to be in the same room with that slimy git for a second." He pointed stiffly at the door of the offending room.
"Right. And you think that's wrong?" Hermione asked flatly. The tone should have warned Ron, but he did not take the hint. Ron never did.
"Of course it's wrong! It's…it's not—not normal!"
"Oh for Merlin's sake, Ronald, it won't kill Harry to start being nice to Malfoy!" Hermione snapped, irritation heating her voice. This was one side of Ron she definitely did not like; his prejudice against Malfoy. Granted, Malfoy was always a downright beast every time they crossed paths, but this time was different. He could do them no more harm. And doesn't everyone deserve a second chance, even scum like Draco Malfoy?
Ron's face flushed red, and he opened his mouth to answer back, when Lors's head popped out of the sharp turn ahead of them. "Uh…is there something wrong? I thought I heard you guys fighting."
Both Ron and Hermione's heads swiveled in Lors's direction. It was Hermione who shook her head. "It's nothing," she assured Lors. "We're not really fighting. Just…discussing something."
The look on Lors face said she didn't believe a word of it, but she only shrugged her shoulders and did not comment. "Right. Well, we're on the second floor, and this is the only door I've seen coming up, so I guess we're here. Ah, good, it's not locked." She turned the knob shaped like a lion's head and pushed the door open.
Hermione walked past Ron, still angry at him, and stopped abruptly when she got inside. The laboratory was slightly larger than the common room upstairs, with two long, low wooden tables running the entire length of the circular room. Both tables were filled with numerous bottles, boxes, decanters, vials, and jars of stuff Hermione did not recognize and a few she knew by sight. There were shelves on neat rows hanging from the stone walls laden with more items and books, and on one side was a fireplace slightly smaller than the one in the common room they had upstairs. There was also a desk and a chair near the door, and a writing table.
Ron walked in and went goggle-eyed at the sight of the room. "Snape'll go bonkers when he sees this room," he said in an awed tone. "His potions office is nothing compared to this!"
Hermione agreed silently, walking over to one side of the wall where several metal and glass instruments hung. She also saw several made of gold. "Professor McGonagall allowed you to use all of this?"
"Oh, most of this is my stuff," Lors replied, putting down her knapsack on one table. "These items were collected on trips with my parents. Some of them were really hard to get by. See this powder?" She shook a small glass jar at them. It was the size of Hermione's closed fist. "It's White Incense, taken only from the wings of a great bloody bird that could easily snap my head off with its beak, and we had to kill seven of those to get this many!"
Ron looked at the jar Lors was holding and scratched his head. "Couldn't you buy that in the market?"
Lors snorted. "Are you kidding? You won't find anyone stupid enough to go hunting giant birds in a great snowy mountain. It's like a secret potion ingredient."
"Huh? Then why are you telling us?" Ron asked, confused.
"So you'd know better than to do something stupid like opening jars and boxes without any idea of what's in them," Lors replied, while pointedly looking at Ron, who had already lifted the cover off of a ceramic brown jar on one of the lower shelves. The top had already begun to emit thin streams of sickly yellowish-brown smoke. When Ron saw, he dropped the lid quickly and stepped back. Hermione only rolled her eyes.
"How do you get all of these things?" Hermione asked as she peered at glass jars and cases. "Don't tell me you buy Class A Non-Tradable Goods?"
"What? No, 'course not," Lors answered with a snort. "My parents usually collect them on expeditions during their studies. Some we buy from people who actually sell them, but they're hard to find, and their prices would drive you up the wall besides." She scratched at her chin. "Now that you think about it though…some of these stuff might be Class A… oh well," she shrugged, "people this side of the world don't even know most of these items exist, so it's not a big deal."
"Now about those Freezing and Cooling Charms…"
Hermione, now quite alert, followed Lors as she walked to her knapsack and began to empty its contents on the table, but not before Lors pushed away several boxes and bottles out of the way to provide some space. When she was done, there were two bottled Incendio spells, four bottles with a cobalt blue shimmering liquid inside, and three bottles which, Hermione was surprised to see, were completely covered in ice. Thin tendrils of fog streamed from those bottles, which she saw contained something deep blue in color.
Lors took one of the bottles with the shimmering liquid inside. "These are your Cooling Charms. I had to add Arctic Winds to these before I could bottle the spell up. Same with the Freezing Charms." She nodded at the three frozen bottles. "I had to add Antarctic Winds for those."
Hermione tentatively touched a bottled Freezing Charm with one finger. She withdrew her hand with a yelp. The bottle felt colder than ice! "So how do you use them? Throw them at your target?"
Lors nodded. "They have the same effect as the spells, but with a bit more strength, because of the ingredients I added."
"Like the…Arctic wind," Hermione added, and Lors nodded again. Hermione looked at the bottle in Lors's hand. "How do you do it?"
Ron, who had up to this point been watching, now turned his attention to exploring the lab again when Lors began to explain about bottling spells. He had already seen most of what the room offered, except… there was a cabinet of dark polished wood on the farthest end of the room from where they were, sitting by itself. It had a clear glass front, and Ron could see three levels of shelving inside, each laden with small covered boxes made of black, unpolished stone.
As Ron walked up to the cabinet, a prickly cold feeling crept up his arms, and he rubbed at them slowly. The feeling came stronger as he came nearer, and only when he was right in front of the cabinet did he realize it was because he was near those dark, unlabeled boxes. A shiver ran right up his spine.
"Oi! Don't touch that!"
Ron spun around, raising his hands in an innocent gesture. "I didn't do anything!" he said quickly.
Lors went over to him at a quick walk, followed by Hermione. She looked Ron over. "Are you sure you didn't touch those boxes?"
"Yeah. I mean, I didn't touch them," Ron replied, confused by Lors's sudden alarm. "Er, what'll happen if I touch them?"
Lors made a noncommittal noise as she peered into the cabinet. "You'll probably get poisoned, or die, or lose an arm, or whatever part of you touched those boxes.
Hermione stepped back from the cabinet warily. "What on earth do you have in there?"
Lors turned to them with a grave expression. "You don't want to know."
A knock on the door made Hermione jump, but Lors only turned her head. A moment later Harry's head popped in, looking around the lab.
"Mind if I join you?"
Lors ushered him in, enthusiastically explaining about the laboratory and its contents as they walked to where Hermione and Ron were standing. Harry looked at everything with only little interest, nodding absently once in a while to what Lors was saying.
Hermione smiled at Harry, trying to read the emotions her friend was expertly concealing beneath the surface. "Ron told me you were left behind with Malfoy."
Harry shrugged, fingering a little vial made of green glass on one of the shelves. "Yeah."
"Did you try talking to him?"
Harry looked away, pretending to play with an instrument on the table. "It didn't work, though."
Ron was safely out of earshot, watching Lors as she used wooden tongs to open one of the bottled Freezing Charms. Hermione placed a hand on Harry's arm. "He'll come around soon enough," she said encouragingly. Harry had told her about his encounter with Narcissa, and Hermione agreed to help Harry in any way she could. Harry also asked her to keep it secret from Ron, and she agreed, albeit only on Harry's promise that he would tell Ron himself. Harry agreed reluctantly, saying Ron would not take it well; Hermione privately agreed with him, but Ron needed to learn how to forgive Malfoy for his past transgressions. Come to think of it, she and Harry needed to learn how to forgive Malfoy, too.
Hermione bit back a yawn; she felt tired all of a sudden, and talking about Malfoy and his mother's favor from Harry…"I think I'm going to bed," she said sleepily, wiping a watery eye. "Coming?"
Harry shook his head and gave her a slight smile. "I'll go later. Besides, I haven't seen Lors's lab, haven't I?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just don't go near the cabinet on the wall over there; Lors said it's dangerous." She bid Lors a goodnight and dragged Ron with her, saying they had to wake up early for classes tomorrow. Harry watched in silent amusement as Ron tried to pry Hermione's hand away, arguing with her, but it was no use. Hermione glared sharply at him and marched them both out the door.
"They make a nice couple," Lors commented as the door closed. "But Hermione can be a bit bossy with Ron sometimes, and Ron is…well, not really my type," she ended with a shrug. "Aren't you going up to bed yet?"
"Ah, I wanted to have a bit of a look inside this lab of yours," Harry lied quickly, scratching behind his ears and grinning. In truth he wanted to clear his head a bit by walking, but the sounds of voices made him open the door while he was descending the stairs. "What're you doing?"
Lors was placing a small pewter cauldron over an iron tripod set up on the table, under which there was a magical fire, with blue flames exactly like the one Hermione was so adept at conjuring. The table wasn't even scorched, but Harry knew those flames were as hot as the ordinary ones. "I'm making a potion."
Harry watched as she tossed a small piece of some deep red crystal into the magical fire; in moments the fire had grown, tips of the flames already lapping up the sides of the pewter cauldron. Lors began adding liquid ingredients from several bottles on the table, none of which Harry recognized. "What potion are you making?"
"Oh, a bottled spell again," Lors replied. She looked up at Harry with a grin. "I'm trying the spell for Transfiguring things into animals."
Harry walked up to the cauldron and peered inside. The red liquid inside was thick and already bubbling; it looked like tomato soup. Harry scrunched up his nose. It even smelled like tomato soup. "Do you have a recipe?"
"Recipe? 'Course not," Lors answered. "I'm trying to figure it out by trial and error, just like the others."
"What?" Harry looked at her, alarmed. "What if this potion blew up in your face?"
Lors. "Well, that would be a problem. We'd have to rebuild this whole lab if it came to that."
"You…you're not even worried you might get killed?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Killed? Why would I be?" Lors asked, as if Harry was asking her something so completely obvious. "I've got several wards around this lab and on myself whenever I'm working. Ah, don't worry, you've been warded, too," she added, correctly reading the look on Harry's face.
Harry was relieved, but did not say anything. He only watched as Lors continued adding a pinch of some white powder and slices of some unknown dried plant root, mixing the concoction with a glass rod once in a while. The potion had turned bright yellow now, and emitted puffs of pale blue smoke. Harry's mind wandered as he watched Lors work; he silently berated himself on how his first attempt to talk to Malfoy had utterly failed.
He should have said something that much was obvious. He had already begun a conversation with Draco, but he screwed it all up by having a flashback! He frowned absently, irritated at himself. No wonder he got mad and left him in the common room! He must have looked like a daydreaming idiot. Harry considered if he should attempt to talk to Draco again the next day; the idea did not appeal to him at all, but he had made a promise, and he would be damned if he wasn't going to keep it.
"Something on your mind?"
The sound of Lors's voice interrupted Harry's thoughts; he had to blink several times to focus on her. "Huh?"
Lors gave a snort. "Yeah, something's definitely on your mind." She leaned against the table. "Anything I can do to help?" she offered.
"It's nothing," Harry told her, shaking his head.
"You know, when a guy says it's nothing, and he looks the way you do now, it means there's something wrong." She grinned. "When a girl says it's nothing, it means the guy's in deep trouble."
Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Where did you hear that?"
"My mother."
"And is it true?"
"All the time," Lors replied, and began stirring her potion again, which had already turned a deep, black color. "There. Now I need to let this stew overnight before brewing it again. Then I can add the final ingredients before testing."
As Lors began to clean up and stow away her cauldron, Harry asked, "Lors? Have you ever tried to…er, get along with a person who hated you before?"
Lors tilted her head at Harry for a few moments, studying his face, before she answered. "A couple of times, yes. It wasn't easy mind you."
"Yeah…" Harry smiled wanly, agreeing with her. "How did you do it?"
"Do it? It depends."
"Depends on what?"
"On how strongly you want to get along with the other person."
Harry frowned slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Lors crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against the table again. "Think about it; if you really want to be friends with someone, you'd try several times to talk to him, right? You'd be patient and try to understand him. But if you're just doing it for the sake of…well, let's say because your others friends asked it of you, you won't try half as hard."
Harry thought about it for a moment. "I see."
Lors studied Harry's face for a long while as they stood there in silence. "Anything else I can help you with?"
"Ah, no. Thanks anyway, Lors."
Lors smiled. "No problem."
o0o0o0o
Early morning light filtered through the windows and straight onto Draco's face, waking him from his sleep. He tried to glare at the windows, cursing himself for forgetting to close the drapes on his four-poster bed, but only managed to open his eyelids feebly. A jaw-creaking yawn broke his sleepiness, and Draco resigned himself to the inevitable, sitting up from his bed, only to have his foul mood return when he saw where he was.
For a moment he thought he was back at Malfoy Manor; the feel of the thick linens and the warmth of the sunlight filtering in from the high window reminded him of home. Draco felt awash in sadness, and his face crumpled; his mother had been his only comfort at home, but now he could not even rely on that to lessen the misery he was suffering from. His mother was beset by sorrows of her own, and her smile was nothing more than an old memory to Draco, now.
His moment of grief lasted only a second, though, as Draco gave himself a mental shake and composed his face to its usual staidness, to be marred by a scowl of anger as his eyes landed on two other four-poster beds in the room, one on either side of his, forming three points of the compass in the large, circular room. One bed was already empty, but the other still had its drapes closed, and Draco could hear loud snores from inside. His lips curled in disgust. He had a feeling it was Weasley still sleeping on the bed; he couldn't really imagine Harry snoring in his sleep.
His anger increased threefold at the thought of Harry, and he was reminded of their abrupt conversation last night. How dare the idiot pry into his affairs! And to mention his mother—! Draco had to stop himself from slamming the lid of his trunk as he took out his uniform, still lined in Slytherin green. For a moment he thought of the peculiar arrangements McGonagall had put them in; it wouldn't make any difference if they had stayed with their old Houses, so it seemed unusual for them to be separated from the other students like this. What is that old hag up to?
After getting dressed Draco wrote a short letter for his mother, planning to send it to her before going down the Great Hall for breakfast. It was still quite early; out the window he saw that the sun had not fully risen yet, only half of it peeking from the horizon, the sky a clash of pinks and golden hues. He tucked the finished letter in the inner pocket of his robes and descended the tower dormitory, walking briskly while rubbing his hands together; the air was chilly, and his breath came out in small clouds of mist.
Once up in the Owlery, Draco began searching for his eagle owl, and found it on one of the lower alcoves, its head tucked under a wing and still sound asleep. He rubbed a finger gently behind its head to wake it up. The eagle owl was one of many they had in the manor, but now they only had less than half. Draco thought it lucky his own owl wasn't one of those they had lost. The eagle owl shook its feathers and gave a soft hoot, raising one leg to Draco.
Draco took out his letter and tied it deftly on the owl's leg. "Bring it straight to Mother, you understand?" he ordered softly. "And come back straightaway if she's sent a reply."
The owl hooted again, louder this time, before spreading its wings and taking off. Draco watched the owl speed away until it was nothing more than a speck in the sky. As he turned around, Draco noticed a snowy white owl perched on a higher alcove, watching him with unblinking gold eyes.
He gave the owl a withering glare. Everyone knew that Harry Potter owned an owl like this. Bloody Saint Potter… the owl hooted loudly and bore its large eyes at him, as if reading his thoughts. "What are you looking at, you stupid bird?"
The owl flew down into the alcove his eagle owl had just vacated and hooted again, this time angrily. Draco's mouth twisted in anger. It felt almost therapeutic to be lashing out on Harry's owl when he had not been able to at Harry last night. "Don't think I don't know who your owner is. It's Potter isn't it?" He smirked. "Trust Saint Potter to pick an owl that looks flashy—can you even send mail properly? I bet your name's flashy, too. Wait, I seem to recall hearing it one time…Helga? Holly? Hedwig?" Draco snorted a laugh. "Anyway, it's bound to be a stupid name, what with Potter being stupid…"
"Draco? What are you doing to my owl?"
Draco spun around so quickly his feet kicked up a small cloud of dust and hay from the floor. He could feel his cheeks burn as his eyes found Harry standing by the doorway, a slight frown of confusion on his face.
Harry looked at him without blinking that Draco almost wanted to squirm. "Were you talking to her?"
Draco immediately raised his chin and gave Harry his haughtiest, 'I-could-care-less' look. "Mind your own business, Potter."
Harry's eyebrows rose. "If you hadn't realized, Draco, Hedwig's my owl, and a second ago you were trying to argue with her. That makes it my business." He raised one arm, and the snowy white owl launched itself into the air and landed gracefully on Harry's outstretched arm. The owl hooted softly and gave Harry's ear an affectionate nip. Harry turned his attention to the bird, ruffling its feathers a bit, before he took a small folded note from his robes and tying it to the owl's leg. "Fly safely, Hedwig, alright? You know where to go." Harry's voice was soft and gentle as he stroked his owl's head, who relished the affection by hooting just as gently.
Draco was mesmerized by the way Harry spoke to his owl; he had never heard Harry's voice without the slightest tinge of rancor or coldness before. It sounded like soft velvet caressing his skin, a rich, warm sound that sent his skin tingling. For a moment Draco froze, aghast at what he was thinking. His cheeks burned even hotter, and he felt even angrier at himself now than he was at Harry for showing up unexpectedly.
Suddenly the owl wasn't there anymore, and Draco realized he and Harry were alone. Hedwig had taken flight already, and it irked Draco that he didn't even notice. Damn it, he couldn't afford to lose himself in wayward thoughts like that again…
Draco made to go, but Harry's voice made him stop.
"If you have something to tell me, Draco, you can tell me anytime. You don't have to go throwing your anger out on Hedwig."
"Will you stop calling me that?" Draco's anger flashed in his gray eyes. "You don't have the right to call me 'Draco'."
"Do we always have to end up fighting when we're in the same room?"
Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Get real, Potter. After everything that's happened?"
"I just wanted to talk, not get dragged into an argument with you."
"As if I'd enjoy a conversation with you," Draco sneered. "You can just ask your friend Weasley." He smirked. "Oh I get it. You want to polish your goody-goody image by making me your friend, right? Saint Potter Showers Mercy and Forgiveness on Ex-Death Eater," he said in mock grandiosity, gesturing with one arm. "It has a nice ring to it, Potter, for a Prophet headline."
Harry shook his head and frowned. "It's not like that, Draco."
"No?" Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Are you planning on running for Minister, then? I suppose it could help with your campaign, wouldn't it?"
"Malfoy—"
"Ah, I know," Draco made his voice louder, overriding Harry's, "you just want to make a fool of me again, don't you? Why Potter, isn't it enough that you destroyed my family name and put us in shame? Taking revenge for all those things I did to you and your two little friends?"
"Stop it, I didn't mean to—"
"You know, I didn't think you had it in you, Potter. You would make it far in Slytherin if you keep—"
"Will you shut up and listen to me for once?!" Harry had cut Draco off by grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. Hard. His voice was loud enough that several owls sleeping overhead hooted indignantly before settling back. "Merlin, Draco, do you have to be so stubborn?"
Draco gave him a glare that could have melted stone, but didn't say anything.
Harry gave him a glare of his own. "Well?"
Draco gave him a sickeningly sweet smile. "I wouldn't be half as attractive if I wasn't like this, would I?" he asked sarcastically, and the smile melted. "Get your bloody hands off of me."
Harry's face changed for a second into an unreadable expression, before he shook his head and released Draco with a slight push. "Forget it." He wiped a hand across his face and muttered to himself, "I don't know why I let myself be dragged into this…" He turned and walked away, crossing the threshold to the Owlery, shaking his head ruefully and mumbling to himself.
"Wait."
Draco had opened his mouth and held out a hand before he could stop himself. A voice inside his head wished fervently that Harry had not heard, or would simply choose to ignore him, but turn back he did, and watched Draco with a half-wary, half angry expression that made his green eyes smolder.
Draco cleared his throat. "What you said last night…did my Mother really tell you the reason?"
Harry seemed hesitant, but he nodded. "Yes."
Draco could not stop the sigh that escaped his lips, and he turned away from Harry. Why would his mother tell his arch enemy all those things, let alone talk to him in the first place? "Is that why you wanted to talk last night?"
Heavy silence fell upon them. "I…just wanted to clear things up between us, Draco. Make a fresh start, you know. Past is past, and…er, am I making sense here?"
A smile crept up Draco's lips, but Harry wasn't able to see. "You sound positively sappy, you know that Potter?"
Harry made an indignant noise behind him. "I was trying to explain why I'm trying my best to act civil with you, Draco," he said in an almost snappish tone, clearly embarrassed.
"If that's you acting civil, Harry then you'd better start practicing your social skills."
Draco heard a snort behind him. "Yeah right, as if you know—hey hang on, you said my name."
This time Draco turned around. "What?"
"You called me by my name," Harry repeated, sounding quite amazed.
"Fancy that," Draco rolled his eyes. Actually, it did sound better than calling him 'Potter'. "So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
Harry's face went slack. "Huh?"
"You said you wanted to talk, didn't you? Breakfast isn't for another hour, and I don't have anything better to do, so talk," Draco gestured at Harry and crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight on one foot.
"You mean right now? But we're in the Owlery."
"So?"
"It's bloody freezing out here, Draco."
Silence. A chilly breeze swept inside the room. "Point taken. Let's just head back to the common room."
They walked back to the tower dormitory together, the tapping sound their feet made on the flagstones the only sound that echoed along the corridors. "You can start talking, now," Draco said after a while.
"Why don't you go first?"
Draco gave Harry a pointed look. "You were the one who wanted to talk, remember? Why should I go first?"
"Our conversation began last night, if you can remember. You were the one who left me alone in the common room."
There was no point arguing about that, so Draco could do nothing but narrow his eyes on Harry. "Fine. And what should I tell you?"
Harry shrugged. "Anything at all, I suppose."
Draco stopped and turned to face Harry. "Is this some kind of a joke, Potter?"
"What? We're supposed to be having a conversation, Draco, not a one-on-one interview. What am I supposed to say? That you should tell me something you don't want to talk about?"
Draco stopped short of giving a caustic remark. "Of course not," he answered after a while. "And I wouldn't tell you even if you did ask."
"See? My point exactly?" huffed Harry. He frowned at Draco. "Don't you talk to your friends about stuff?"
Draco snorted. "You mean Crabbe and Goyle? Do you honestly think they're capable of carrying a decent conversation without suffering a heart attack from the effort?"
Harry succeeded in looking as if he was considering it carefully. "Oh yeah, you're right." For a moment their eyes met, before they erupted in peals of laughter.
When the laughter subsided, Harry was still grinning when he looked at Draco. "So. Starting to enjoy our conversation yet?"
Draco looked at Harry and gave him a half-smile. "Maybe." He changed his face into a dead-serious expression. "Alright. Conversation over; see you at class, Harry." He turned on his heel and walked away without saying another word.
"What? But—?"
"As satisfactory as our short talk was, I still have other things planned for today," Draco explained as he walked, waving a hand behind him. "And really, Potter, I have a reputation to live up to; I can't be seen with a Gryffindor without hexing said student to death."
Harry opened his mouth to call Draco back, but he stopped short of raising an arm in the air and smiled ruefully to himself instead. He didn't really expect Draco to trust him right away. Pocketing his hands for warmth, Harry made his way back to the tower dorm to see if Ron was already awake. Somehow, it wouldn't feel right if Draco had said anything but what he just did.
o0o0o0o
Everyone in Potions class, including Ron and Harry, had divided their attention between Professor Slughorn's lecture and Lors's potion-brewing; the liquid in her cauldron had started to boil rather vigorously and smelled like vinegar. Even Professor Slughorn couldn't help darting quick glances at Lors, who had been given special consideration in Potions. Lors used her time in Potions to study Highly-Advanced Potions and Alchemy, something that had Hermione's eyes grow round as saucers, saying—in a rather breathless voice—that Highly Advanced Potions was a subject three times beyond NEWT levels.
Harry noted though that even if Lors was a genius at Potions, she was only average with Charms, and a bit poor at DADA. This morning, during DADA class with Professor Moody, she was called to cast a Disarming Spell, and ended up drenching Moody in water.
"Blimey, I think she's even worse than Neville was!" Ron whispered to Harry as Lors winced at every sharp word Moody was growling at her, explaining how to cast an Expelliarmus spell.
But her worst one by far was Transfiguration. They were supposed to transfigure tomatoes into robins just before lunch. After some difficulty Harry had ended up with a robin, true, but with a bit of stem and a little leaf poking out on top of its head. Draco had ended up with a bird that had a tomato for a body; he looked disgusted with himself and tried several more times before he got it right. Hermione was the only one who ended up with a robin that did not resemble a tomato; Ron's was a tomato that had grown red wings, and tried to flit away from his hands.
Harry was only just trying not to laugh at Ron when a loud shriek rent the air, and half the class ran to one side of the room, leaving a wide space of empty chairs around Lors, who was trying to hold down a…a…
"What the bloomin' hell is that?" someone asked loudly.
Lors was gritting her teeth with the effort of restraining what Harry supposed was her Transfigured tomato, which didn't look like a robin at all. It had a large red tomato for a head, with a large mouth and rows of sharp teeth, making screeching noises as it tried to wriggle free. Its body was smaller than a little child's, and it was clothed in something striped purple and white. It had two arms shaped like slender clubs, and it used these to swat at Lors, who looked to be getting angrier and angrier by the minute.
Professor McGonagall came rushing to the scene as soon as she heard the noise. "What is going on here?" she demanded, and gave a startled yelp at the sight of the creature Lors was trying to contain. "What in Merlin's name do you have there Miss Ingleton?"
"My…tomato…professor," Lors grunted.
Professor McGonagall's lips thinned into a line. She waved her wand in a long, intricate movement, and the creature disappeared with a pop. Lors stood up dusting her robes and wiping the sweat from her forehead. "Whew. I didn't think I would change that bloody fruit into a nightshade…" She looked up, and fell silent at the look on McGonagall's face.
But now, in Potions, Lors was in her element. Harry had immediately noted the way she brightened up the moment they started off for the dungeon. Harry had also noticed the way Draco's face soured when he read their class time tables and saw Potions as the last class of the day; he had been Snape's favorite student, but he was not on Slughorn's top list. And obviously never will be, after everyone's learned Draco had been a Death Eater.
After introductions, Slughorn delightedly told the class about Lors's special condition, and set her to a table near his desk, telling her to continue whatever it was she was doing. Harry recognized the bottle of potion Lors took out of her bag and presented to Slughorn. When she explained what it was, Slughorn's eyes grew almost as wide as Hermione's.
"My girl," he began, his mouth open, "do you realize what this could mean? The possibilities?"
"Well…er, it's not really finished yet," Lors stammered, her face slightly red. "I still need to brew it again and mix a few more items in before I can test it."
"Then brew away, Miss Ingleton, please!" Professor Slughorn beamed proudly at her. "Do that while I start the class, won't you?"
Ron, who shared the table at the back of the room with Harry, nudged him on the ribs. "Are you alright, mate?"
"'Course I am," Harry replied, slightly confused. He pretended to be writing something in his notebook before adding, "Why?"
Out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Ron shrug. "I don't know mate, it just seems you were a bit out of it during breakfast. You kept looking at Malfoy." He turned his head towards Harry. "Did something happen while I was asleep? You two weren't there when I woke up."
Harry tried to appear as casually as he could. "Nothing happened." He darted a glance at Ron. "I was just thinking. About what Hermione said, I mean."
"Uh, what did 'Mione say?"
"Well…" Harry knew that talking about Malfoy might make Ron blow his top off, but he had to try. "You remember when we first arrived here? When she said Malfoy was trying to change, and that we should forgive him?"
Harry could almost feel the air grow tense as Ron froze in his seat, his face uncharacteristically blank. "Yeah?"
"I…I kind of agree with her."
"You WHAT?"
"Something the matter back there, Mister Weasley, Mister Potter?"
Harry turned and forced himself to smile. "It's nothing, Professor. My friend Ron just saw a…a spider. Yeah, a spider. Pretty big, actually, and it—well, it startled him."
Hermione, who shared a table with Draco beside them, frowned questioningly at Harry, who gave the slightest shake of his head. Draco was watching them, one eyebrow slightly raised. Harry gave him a shake of the head, too.
Professor Slughorn did not look entirely convinced, but he accepted Harry's lie just the same and continued his lecture. Harry sat back on his seat with a relieved sigh. "Keep your voice down next time, Ron."
Ron's ears were completely red by this time, and his cheeks tinted with anger. "You shouldn't mention Malfoy next time, then," he hissed. "What's gotten into you, Harry?"
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but then stopped. It didn't seem right to tell Ron that he was doing this because it's the right thing; Harry knew it was not the complete truth. Ron watched him with an angry frown. Harry tried to think.
What has gotten into him?
o0o0o0o
Draco silently followed Harry and his friends as they all walked up to the tower dorm to drop their bags and join the students below for dinner. He could definitely feel the tension between Harry and Weasley; even Granger could sense it, watching both of them carefully in silence. Lors seemed the only one oblivious to the situation, and was happily cradling the bottle of her potion in her arm.
For a moment Draco shifted his attention to Lors and eyed the bottle warily. Draco didn't know why, but somehow that potion did not bode well with him at all.
As they passed a long stretch of corridor on the third floor, Draco still watching Harry and his friends from behind, a hand stretched out from under one of the wall hangings and pulled Draco in. The Malfoy heir barely had time to yelp, because a hand had covered his mouth immediately, and a sharp prodding in his side told Draco someone had pointed a wand at him.
"We've got 'im," said a gruff voice, definitely male.
"I didn't think our plan would work," said another voice. This one sounded more impish, and ended with a small chuckle.
"So what should we do with him now?" This one was a girl's voice.
Draco looked around, trying to see in the darkness. As far as he could tell, this was one of the hidden passageways in the castle, one that he didn't knew existed. He tried to remember clearly and thought that the wall hanging outside was the one with the group of witches dancing around a silver cauldron. And if the silence was any indication, the others hadn't noticed what happened.
"Lumos," the impish voice said, and the passageway was revealed to be two spans wide and three wide, all dressed in worn stone. Draco blinked. A large student was holding his arms to his side and covering his mouth, while a tall, thin girl with long corn-colored hair had her wand under his ribs. The owner of the impish voice holding the lighted wand was of medium height, with brown hair and freckles across his nose, his eyes bright and slanted.
Draco tried to struggle, but it was like trying to wriggle out from under a boulder. Gray eyes smoldering in anger, he tried to shake his head to free his mouth, all the while cursing and screaming. The muffled noises he made only made the girl and the impish boy grin.
"He isn't so intimidating when he's all helpless like this, is he?" he said delightedly.
The girl smirked. "My mother said all the Malfoys are trash." She looked at Draco in the eye and added coolly, "They deserve everything they got. Too bad they're not in Azkaban."
The great lump of lard holding Draco down shifted slightly. "Didn't they get free because they saved Potter's life?"
"I bet they did it to save their own skins," snorted the imp. "They know Harry Potter isn't a cold-hearted murderer like them." He pointed his own wand at Draco's throat. "So what can you say for yourself, Malfoy? Try to shout and I'll blow your neck apart."
Draco's mouth was released, and even though he was sorely tempted to scream for help, Draco did not want to test the imp's threat to see if he would be able to do what he said he would. Instead he mustered up the coldest, sharpest glare he could and directed it at the imp and the girl. "What the bloody hell do you want from me?"
"Oh, nothing much," the girl smiled nastily. "Just revenge."
"I don't even know you."
"That's it, isn't it?" the imp said, scowling at him. "You don't know us; your evil git of a father didn't know our parents, but you killed my Dad! Oh, don't you remember?" he smiled evily, prodding the wand deep into Draco's throat he almost choked. "Your little attack on the Muggle minister cost my father his life! But I guess you wouldn't realize that, because you've killed a whole lot of people, haven't you?"
"My parents, too," the girl added savagely, her face contorted in anger. "Do you know what it feels like to come home and strangers telling you your parents are dead?!"
Draco gasped as the grip around his arms tightened. "My uncle William, too," growled the boy holding him.
Draco felt a trickle of fear for the first time since this whole ordeal. As he looked as their eyes, filled with such hate and anger, he knew without a doubt that they were ready to kill him, and that even though he wasn't the one who had killed their loved ones, they did not care, because he was a Death Eater in their eyes, and it was all that mattered.
The wand in his throat dug against his skin harder, and Draco closed his eyes, not knowing what to say in his defense. How could he tell them he was terribly sorry, or that he was innocent? He had seen the same expression on the Wizengamot the day his family was accused, and they did not listen to his mother's pleas. He doubt that these three students would.
His ears heard the rustle of fabric, startled yelps, and felt the arms trapping him in place loosen. Somebody was shaking him by the shoulders.
"Oi, Draco. Are you hurt?"
Draco opened his eyes and blinked several times. There were more wands lighted now. More than three. "Potter?"
He heard a relieved sigh escape Harry's lips. "Good. He's not Confunded." He turned, and Draco saw that Weasley, Granger, and Lors were there, too, their wands lighted. The three students who had grabbed him were all standing on one side, their faces ranging from pure hatred for him to worried glances in Harry's direction.
Draco stepped back from Harry's grip, and the former Gryffindor watched him wearily as Draco tried to stand on his own. The weakness in his legs had lessened, and although he swayed, Draco remained upright.
"Is he alright, Harry?" Granger sounded genuinely worried, and she walked up to Draco and cast a spell he did not recognize. "Well, he doesn't seem to be cursed."
Harry had turned his attention to the three unknown students. The large one wore Hufflepuffs yellow, while the other two wore Ravenclaw blue. "What were you planning to do?" Harry asked coldly, his face blank.
Harry wasn't pointing his wand at them, but the three students flinched as if he had. The girl started babbling apologies, saying they weren't really planning on hurting anyone. The large one remained silent, only nodding his head, but the impish boy's face was twisted into a snarl. "What were we planning? We wanted to kill that…that git!" He pointed a finger harshly at Draco, who stood still, watching with his face smooth as stone.
Lors and Ron were already at Harry's side, watching the three students. Ron's mouth twisted. "You want to kill him? And what, become a criminal, too? Don't be such a woolhead."
"Why would you want to kill him, anyway?" Lors asked.
This question seemed to trigger a deep hatred long-hidden inside the short boy, and he diverted his slanted eyes at Lors, anger flickering and flashing in his face. "Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater!" he screamed, and his voice echoed in the passageway. "His stinking parents were Death Eaters! They all deserve to die, because they killed everyone we cared for."
"Revenge won't bring them back!" Lors yelled back. She shoved a finger at the boy's chest. "You're an idiot if you think killing Draco would do you much good."
"I DON"T CARE!" the boy was screaming almost hysterically now, the nerves on his neck taut from his yells. "I want him dead!" His hands suddenly grabbed the potion bottle in Lors's arm and threw it in Draco's face.
Everything happened so fast, but Draco followed the bottle as it sailed through the air, tumbling end over end, its contents swishing violently inside the thin glass. He knew he should duck; he had absolutely no idea what it would do, and he might even end up exploding to pieces. But the twisted and angry face of the impish kid, the smirk of hatred from the Ravenclaw girl and the Hufflepuff student bloomed in his mind. Draco decided to stay still and be done with it. He didn't know what else he could do to stop them from hating him.
Suddenly Harry's face loomed over him, there was the sound of breaking glass, and the next thing he knew his vision was filled with dark purple smoke.
Draco instinctively covered his nose with a hand; his eyes watered and stung, and he coughed violently, lungs desperate for clean air. Someone grabbed his hand and pulled him out into the third floor corridor. He turned back and saw Weasley helping Granger out. Lors was right beside him, gulping huge a lungful of air.
"This—can't—be good," she wheezed, bending over to place her hands on her knees. "The entire bottle was dumped on Harry."
Ron coughed and waved a hand through the air to clear it. "What was it, anyway?"
"Where are they?" Hermione asked. Draco looked around.
"They've probably run," he answered. He looked at Lors. "What potion did you make?"
Lors looked uncomfortable. "Well…it was supposed to turn inanimate objects into animals. I bottled a Transfiguration spell, see…"
The smoke was already clearing up. All three heads turned to the wall hanging that hid the passageway. Thin streams of smoke still escaped underneath. Draco cleared his throat. "I guess we should go and collect Potter, then."
A thin, wailing sound made them stop.
Ron frowned, pointing his wand. "What was that?"
They waited with baited breath, each one's imagination running wild at what could have happened to Harry. Five seconds passed by in silence. Then fifteen. Twenty.
The wall hanging shivered as something tried to push it away. Something quite small. Ron lowered his wand as a kitten slightly larger than one hand padded its way out, dragging a deep yellow and scarlet tie wound around its neck. When it got past the wall hanging it stopped, mewled again in a slightly higher pitch, and stared at them.
The kitten was black all over except for a curious white lightning-shaped mark on its forehead, with thick fur, and the deepest green eyes. It sniffed at the air tentatively before sitting down and started licking its left front paw.
Ron's mouth hung open. Hermione stared at the kitten with wide-eyed shock. Draco was too stunned he couldn't speak. Only Lors made any sort of movement at all as she crouched low and tilted her head at the kitten. "Harry?"
The kitten stopped licking its paw at the sound and looked at Lors. "Meow."
o0o0o0o
End of Chapter 3.
Next: Chapter 4 – Purr for Me
I'm sorry guys, I can't give a sneak peek summary for this one; it might kill the thrill, so to speak. Just use the title for a clue, eh? The next chapter would probably end up having several parts (around two or three), so it might take a while to upload.
