I walked back to the castle with Snape and Malfoy, our strides long and our legs moving fast. Snape entered the Great Hall without another word or glance at the two of us. I started to go in after him, but an arm pulled me back.

Draco Malfoy was staring me dead in the eyes.

"Regretting what we just did already?" I asked him, not amused.

"No," Draco told me evenly. His face was soft. "Listen, Haile…I know you're supposed to hate me and everything, so thank you. Really. You just saved me."

I fidgeted. I started playing with my curls, looking down. "Even if you're, like, fulfilling your dream or whatever," I said, scowling. "You didn't ask for this. Just like I didn't ask to be Haile Potter."

"We're both too young to have this responsibility on us," he said, his voice heavy.

"I don't know what your responsibility is, but my responsibility is killing the Darkest Lord of all-time! And the whole wizarding world is counting on me! Talk about pressure!" I exclaimed hysterically. "I'm expected to kill your master!"

Little did I know Draco's responsibility was to kill the most powerful wizard of all-time, which he just swore on his deathbed not to do.

Draco was silent for a few moments. "Maybe I don't care."

His words rung achingly in my ears.

"What."

"I. Don't. Care." He stepped closer.

"You don't care?" I repeated stupidly. His face was so close to mine, his eyes boring into my soul as they did so many times before…my mind swirled and my eyes stopped focusing on everything but his…

The Great Hall swung open, and students poured out, chatting and gossiping happily, oblivious.

Once again, interrupted. Usually, I was grateful for the interruptions because I was always afraid what might it lead to when Malfoy and I got close like that. Just like first, second, third, fourth, and fifth year…I was afraid.

This time, though, as he turned away from me quickly to join the Slytherins, I found myself wanting to know what came next.

Back up in the common room, where I met up with Hermione and Ron, I found out some very interesting news.

"Snape?! No. Snape?! The Dark Arts teacher?!"

"I'm afraid so," Hermione told me sadly. "And Slughorn is to be the Potions master."

"Ridiculous," I said, shaking my head.

"So, Haile, what kept you?" Ron asked. "Neither you nor Malfoy were there during Sorting."

Hermione was studying my face closely. I considered my words carefully before speaking them. "I stayed behind for a word with Malfoy to see if I could find out if he was a Death Eater or not. I was unsuccessful. Snape caught us dueling nearby the train, and he escorted us back to the castle."

It was difficult, not telling them the truth. How very much I wanted to tell them—and Dumbledore—that he was a Death Eater. But I couldn't. And I knew that. I would die. Hopefully they could understand that someday.

"Ah, that stupid Malfoy," Ron said, annoyed. "Up to his old tricks. You'd think that git would learn!"

"He's not that bad," I said. Both Ron and Hermione turned to stare at me, jaws dropped. My cheeks flushed. "I mean, I think he has a lot on his plate right now!"

"Are you going soft on Malfoy?" Ron asked, shaking his head. "After you two just dueled?!"

"It's complicated," I said, standing up. "Hermione, do you want to go to bed?"

"Oh, you bet, I'm exhausted," Hermione said yawning. "'Night, Ron."

"Goodnight, Hermione," Ron said, looking at her. "…Oh, night, Haile…"

Lavender and Parvati were already up in the common room, waiting for us. "Hello, Haile, Hermione."

We all said hello and chatted casually about our summers. "Oh…Haile? And Hermione?" Lavender asked eventually. "I sort of had a silly question."

"Shoot," I said, shrugging.

"I was just, um, wondering. Is Ron…available?"

"To date?" I asked incredulously.

"Uh…yeah."

Hermione and I exchanged wild glances. "Well, I suppose he is," Hermione said stiffly.

I kept looking at Hermione. She didn't seem too happy. She went to bed right after that, without another word. I shrugged, and followed suit.

The next day, I realized Hogwarts was going to be different this year for me. I wasn't getting glares from people and I wasn't being ignored. I was now getting stared at appraisingly, admirably, or just…stared at.

Before going to our classes, Professor McGonagall was scheduling conferences with the sixth years in Gryffindor to make sure we qualified for our N.E.W.T classes.

My interview was one of the last of the morning appointments. "Ah, Miss Potter," McGonagall said, beckoning me into her office. "Sit."

I sat down in the chair opposite her. "So, Potter, I see you've applied for Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, the Dark Arts, and Charms. Excellent. Your O.W.L. scores were exceptional. Have you any idea what you want to do when you leave Hogwarts?"

"Professor…I have actually considered…well, being an Auror."

McGonagall beamed. "And to right you will!"

I left feeling very pleased.

Also, I had to think about when to hold Quidditch trials. Ron wanted to try out again, and I really, really hoped I would be able to let him back on the team.

The first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Snape was a disaster. We were practicing non-verbal spells, and Hermione was the only one who could get it. I was close, but Snape kept watching me and criticizing everything I did.

After, we had Potions with Slughorn. It was rather interesting. First, I dug through my bag to find out that I had left my Potions book in the dormitory.

"How stupid of me!" I exclaimed.

"What's wrong, Miss Potter?" Professor Slughorn asked me, getting ready to initiate the class.

"I forgot my book in the dormitory," I told him embarrassed. Malfoy sniggered from the other side of the room. I shot him an annoyed look. Was he really acting like this after I saved his life? He was Malfoy, of course he was. Plus, I was trying to forget about it.

"Oh, just help yourself to one in the back," he said easily.

I stood up and walked to the cupboard in the back of the classroom. I grabbed the first book I saw, and realized I made a bad choice. It was tattered and very old, but I decided to use it anyway.

Slughorn told us that the first person to brew a 'Draught of Living Death' on page ten would win a bottle of Felix Felicis, liquid luck. I was excited. You never know when that might come in handy. I pulled my hair back, ready to try my hardest.

When opening my book, I noticed that there was slant handwriting written between the lines of instructions on nearly every page. Intrigued, I read the notes. They were different instructions than the book offered, but taking a risk, I decided to follow them.

To my surprise, after wavering from the textbook instructions, I found that my potion was coming along swimmingly. Hermione, extremely frustrated sitting next to me, kept glancing over. "How are you doing that?"

"Well, you can add a clockwise stir to—"

"No, no, the book says counterclockwise!" Hermione told me, cutting me off.

I shrugged. "Suit yourself!"

At the end of the hour, my potion was the exact color, odor, and mass that it was supposed to be. Professor Slughorn was more than impressed.

"The clear winner!" he yelled. "Oh, you've inherited your mother's wits, it seems! And here you are, a bottle of Felix Felicis."

"Thanks!" I said happily, and turned around to look at Malfoy's annoyed and jealous stare. I grinned straight at him, and turned back around. Hermione was eyeing me suspiciously.

Up in the common room, I confessed to Ron and Hermione how I won. Hermione was not amused. Ron, however, was jealous. "I wish I forgot my Potions book!" he cried.

Hermione took the book from me, and before I could protest, performed a series of spells on it, to make sure it wasn't demonic or possessed. She handed it back to me, satisfied. "Well, it's still wrong," she huffed.

"Haile got that book fair and square," Ron told her. "No need to have a squirrel."

Lavender giggled at Ron as she walked by. Ron flushed.

Hermione groaned and sat down. She propped open a book, and read sulkily.

I sat next to her, opening my Potions textbook once more. I had brought it with me. I was going to give Slughorn back my new textbook upstairs and take this one for my own instead. It wasn't stealing! I was giving him back a better book in new condition.

I flipped through the pages until I got to the end of the book. It read, 'This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince.'

Whoever the Half-Blood Prince is or was, I'd like to kiss them. Through the week, I followed their instructions and my potions had never been so outstanding. Ron was indifferent to my success while Hermione remained frustrated.

On Friday morning, I received a letter from Professor Dumbledore. He told me to meet him in his office that night at eight for our first private lesson. I told Hermione and Ron excitedly.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped. "Don't worry, we'll wait up for you. I want to hear all about it."

That night, at ten to eight, I set off for Dumbledore's office, my heart beating excitedly in my chest. I couldn't imagine what he'd be teaching me, so I was very curious.

"Good evening, Haile," Dumbledore said, once I had made my way up to his office and let myself in. "Please sit down. A good first week?"

"Oh yes," I told him nodding.

"Professor Slughorn suspects you are a regular genius at Potions," Dumbledore said with a small smile.

"I've been very lucky," I told Dumbledore with an uneasy grin.

"As it seems," Dumbledore agreed. "Now, Haile, the reason I've asked to engage these private sessions is to inform you everything I know about Lord Voldemort. This will be essential to the defeat of him, and the survival of yourself."

"What will we be doing?"

"Tonight we will be taking a trip down memory lane," Dumbledore said, standing and indicating the Pensieve. "With Bob Ogden, who is now deceased, but was employed by the Ministry while living."

Dumbledore poured the silvery contents of a glass bottle into the Pensieve while I watched anxiously. "Shall we then?"

I plunged my head into the Pensieve, and found myself leaving Dumbledore's office and into a bright country setting.

We followed Ogden into the Gaunt house where I witnessed the horrifying scene that took place. I didn't enjoy watching yet I was intrigued. Also, I wanted to know why this was relevant to Lord Voldemort.

After Dumbledore and I were back from the memory, I asked Dumbledore what that was all about.

"Merope, the very pale girl, the daughter of Marvolo, was Voldemort's mother," Dumbledore told me quietly.

"She—she was Voldemort's mother?!" I cried, thinking of her white face as her father yelled at her for looking at the Muggle, named Tom…

Something clicked.

"And that Muggle! Tom, who rode by, he was Voldemort's father!? But…it seems unlikely he would…with Merope…"

"Ah, but Merope was a witch, Haile. I am inclined to think she used a love potion. It would have been easy to persuade him to take a drink of water one day. She ran off with him, much to father's fury."

"But…she died. Voldemort was an orphan."

"Yes, she did, eventually. You see, I am also inclined to believe that once she was pregnant with Tom Riddle's child, she set him free, hoping he would stay. He did not. He ran away without any thought of the baby or her."

"That's so sad," I said, frowning.

Dumbledore paused, studying me closely. "Well, Haile, I think that is enough for tonight."

I nodded, getting ready to leave. But, I noticed something on his desk. A big gold ring with a black stone, cracked.

"Professor," I said, recognizing it. "That's the ring from the memory! How did you…?"

"I acquired it very recently," Dumbledore told me. "A few days before I came to fetch you during the summer."

"When you injured your hand," I said, casually.

"Yes. But Haile, that story is for another night. You must go to bed now," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling and a smile plastered on his face. "Good night."

"Good night, Professor Dumbledore," I said nicely, and left.