Chapter 7 – No One Ever Looks Up
When Draco woke the next morning his light was on and his book was still open to page one. As he lifted his head he realized he'd been drooling slightly on his Transfiguration text, but at least he'd woken early enough to get ready for classes and go to breakfast with the rest of the school.
During the meal, dozens of owls bringing the morning post came pouring into the Great Hall, filling the room with echoing wing beats. Draco's new eagle owl, Tasmin, had obviously found its own way to Hogwarts because it soared through the open windows, circled once, then clattered on to the Slytherin table, its talons scraping lightly on the wood. The letter Tasmin carried had come all the way from the south of Britain and was damp and disheveled from spending an extra day tied onto the owl's leg, as Draco hadn't made it to breakfast the day before. Luckily the letter didn't seem to be terribly important. It was just a quick note from Lucius Malfoy saying that he hoped the trip had gone smoothly and asking Draco to write back once he was settled.
"Nice bird, mate," said Crabbe as he plopped himself down on an empty seat.
"Thanks," responded Draco, crumpling the note up and stuffing it in a pocket.
"Think Greg will make it to Transfiguration this morning?"
"It might be better for him if he doesn't. A class with McGonagall isn't exactly the best way to start the day, is it?"
Looking at Tasmin, who was taking little darting bites of ham now that the job of delivering the post was done, it struck Draco that McGonagall looked and acted a lot like an angry owl. Maybe she had been one before she learned transfiguration.
The bird jumped off the table and flew out of the room, leaving Draco wondering where exactly the owl was going.
As it turned out, Greg did make it to class that morning, but only just. Now that they knew their way around a bit, all the Slytherins got to class on time, but that didn't seem to improve McGonagall's mood. Instead she seemed to relish tossing out "review" questions about things they obviously hadn't learned yet. Strangely, she seemed to call on Draco a lot more often than on the other students and seemed especially spiteful if he didn't know the answer, even though none of the other students did much better.
"So confidant you still haven't bothered to read the textbook, Malfoy? You must be most impressed with yourself."
Luckily the rest of the day wasn't as bad as Transfiguration. They had their first Charms lesson with Professor Flitwick, who was much more cheerful than Professor McGonagall, and was so tiny that some students guessed he must have some leprechaun blood.
Professor Flitwick separated the class into groups of boys and girls and gave each a small tub of water and a toy sailboat. Their assignment was try to create a magical breeze that would push the boats along. In the first half of the lesson nobody managed to do any magic at all and the boats only moved when the students poked them with their wands (which Professor Flitwick said didn't count).
In the second half, Crabbe did indeed do some magic, managing to grow Theodore Nott's eyebrows an inch-and-a-half longer. This didn't help to move the boat at all and it set the boys back another ten minutes as they argued over whether it had been an accident or not.
Blaise, half-bored and half-frustrated, whispered, "Let me show you a spell I can do. My mom taught me this one."
He directed their attention to Pansy Parkinson's red 'Stop The Production of Pointless Buttons' button which she now had clipped to the left shoulder of her robe.
Blaise waved his wand in short tight jerks, muttering under his breath. The button jiggled but didn't move. "Hmmmm, tricky little charm."
He kept up his efforts, whispering the spell too quietly for the others to clearly hear what he was saying. Suddenly the button unclipped and flew straight into Blaise's outstretched hand without Pansy or any of the other girls noticing.
Crabbe silently mouthed, "That's brilliant."
After Charms the Slytherins had a break for lunch. Their timetables told them that Tuesday afternoon was "Nap Time." This struck all of them as a bit childish, but there was some sense in it as in the evening they had their first Astronomy class which couldn't start until it had gotten totally dark. At this time of year that meant that by the time that class was over and they'd made their way down from the top of the castle to the lowest dungeons it would be well after midnight.
Of course, none of the Slytherins did have naps and when it was finally time for Astronomy the now-tired students marched from their dormitories in the deepest dungeon of the castle to Hogwarts' uppermost reaches, which were illuminated by lanterns instead of torches. They eventually gathered in their "classroom," which turned out to be the wind-blasted and unexpectedly cold roof of the tallest tower. For a few minutes the students stood shivering, most wishing they'd dressed a little warmer, wondering where the teacher was. At one point the Bloody Baron emerged through the stone floor, leading some to believe that he would be teaching the class, but he just scowled when he saw the crowd on the tower and drifted away. Finally their instructor emerged on the roof. With a light nimble leap – surprising from someone who looked to be at least in her late 40s – she hopped up on the outer wall of the tower and balanced on the edge. She was tall and very thin, and looked pale even in the weak light.
Sweeping off her hat and bowing, the woman spoke in a low voice that somehow carried clearly across the roof. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Professor Sinistra, but you can call me Aurora. Tonight you will begin your exploration of the universe above. We shall start our lesson by taking notes on pages one to one hundred and eighty of your textbook. For homework you shall need to write a summary of those pages, which will be due first thing tomorrow morning."
The students let out a chorus of groans.
Professor Sinistra chortled, "No, no, I'm just kidding. Actually we're just going to lie on our backs and look at stars, and if I like you, maybe I'll tell you a few stories. Now the first thing we need is for everybody to lie down."
The students weren't sure if this was another joke so they all started looking nervously at each other.
"No no, not like that, the other way. Your backs should be facing down and your nose up."
Still nobody was moving. Draco could feel several eyes looking his way to see what he was going to do so he decided to take the lead and flopped down on his back.
"Well done. Five house points for finally following instructions."
Greg and Crabbe grabbed spots on either side of Draco.
"Good job, mate. Five points for Slytherin just for that. Not a bad start, eh? I think that puts us in the lead for the House Cup already."
Slowly the rest of the class lay down, each student trying to find a patch of tower roof. This proved especially difficult for Dianna who was easily the largest student there. But after some pushing, shuffling, and grumbling everybody finally seemed satisfied.
They stared up at the impressive sight over their heads. In the cool night air, with no city streetlights, the sky took on a milky glow of its own. Along with the familiar handful of bright stars that they usually saw when they looked up at the night sky – now dazzlingly bright – were hundreds, even thousands, of others stretching from horizon to horizon.
Aurora Sinistra carefully stepped through the crowd of students and found a spot to lie down as well, causing another ripple of jostling.
The professor said nothing for several minutes, just letting the students study the stars. With a quiet voice she pointed out the obvious. "We so rarely notice what is above our heads. If you don't believe me, try this. Play a simple game of Hide and Destroy and find some way of hiding up high. Wedge yourself over a doorway or climb a tree. The person looking for you will tear everything apart down below but will never bother taking a glance up. You can be in clear view and they won't even notice. It's the same with the night sky. Sure, we take a peek at the full moon once in a while, but over our head every night are comets, planets, and falling stars that we never see. Well, I do, but I get paid for it so it doesn't count. But most people don't."
Almost on cue a falling star suddenly arced directly overhead, causing a small chorus of "Oooh look" and "Did you see that?"
"Professor Sinistra," asked Tracey Davis, a lanky girl who was shivering while she lay on the cold grey stone of the tower roof, "does wishing on falling stars ever work?"
"Call me Aurora," said the professor. "In answer to your question, I'm not sure. Why don't we all make a wish and next class we'll take a survey about how many came true? That seems like a good scientific test."
After giving everyone some time to make a wish, the professor pulled out her wand and intoned, "Heisenstoof."
Immediately the air on the roof warmed. The group released a collective happy sigh.
Aurora Sinistra asked, "How many of you wished to be warmer?" A chorus of giggles followed when several hands stretched towards the sky.
"I'm glad the star is working so fast for you, but we can't always count on wishes so in the future just remember to dress warmer for our lessons. I know it seems foolish to have a class on top of the castle in the middle of the night, but what can we do? It's the only way to study the stars. I don't like to warm the roof unless it's really freezing because the Warming Spell interferes with how clear the sky looks, but it should be okay for today. So tell me, does anybody know the names of any of the stars or constellations?"
They spent the rest of the class just pointing out things in the sky. It was a lot of fun – it felt more like they were just staying up really late with friends than having a lesson. Draco didn't know the names of any of the stars but he was the only one who knew that the fast moving blinking one was actually an aeroplane.
The next couple of days went by in a blur. Between finding classes, taking classes and doing homework for classes there didn't seem to be much time to do other things. Draco did manage to build up enough courage to write a letter to his father about being placed in Slytherin, which would please him, and about the things which had been eaten by the suitcase, which would not. The cost of replacing the school supplies would mean nothing to his father, but he wouldn't be happy about his son's irresponsibility.
By the time Friday arrived, everyone was looking forward to a couple of days off. It was also a relief to think that after Friday's Potion class there wouldn't be any more new classrooms to find.
There was already a crowd of Gryffindors waiting outside the dark entrance to Professor Snape's dungeon classroom when the Slytherins arrived. Greg instinctively clutched at his hand where the rat had bitten him on the train.
"We don't have class with them, do we?" Crabbe complained.
"Looks like it," sighed Pansy, somehow managing to look unhappy while smiling.
Draco wasn't thrilled to see Weasley and Potter slouched against the wall, but he was happy to see Hermione – who gave him a quick half-smile – amongst the waiting students.
The door to the dungeon opened and a rush of cold air rolled into the hallway. Professor Snape, his dark eyes looking piercingly at each of the waiting students, waved them inside. The sallow-skinned teacher nodded a greeting to several of the Slytherins, including Draco, as if he knew them already. He didn't do the same for any of the Gryffindors. Draco tried to remember if Professor Snape had ever visited Malfoy Manor and guessed that he probably had.
The smell of the classroom was a bit unsettling as from the walls and tables oozed the leftover fumes of thousands of past experiments. As the students wrinkled their noses and exchanged looks, Professor Snape paced to the front of the room and an ominous silence fell. After going through the register and making sure that all the expected students were present, he began a speech. He probably used it every year for his new classes, but it was fascinating anyway. He told them about the beauty of softly simmering cauldrons with shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses. He told them that he could teach them how to bottle fame, brew glory and even stopper death.
The room was respectfully quiet – most people were obviously impressed by Snape's description of what they would be learning in Potions. The only two who didn't seem interested were Potter and Weasley who were rolling their eyes, sniggering, and whispering to each other.
Professor Snape rounded on the two boys.
"Potter," he said slowly, lingering over the name. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Potter either didn't know or he was choosing not to answer. Instead he just stared back at Professor Snape with his ever present smirk.
Hermione's hand went up though Professor Snape seemed to take no notice.
Finally Potter spoke, "I don't know," he drawled, pausing before adding a sarcastic, "sir."
"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
Potter's face turned slightly pink. Draco was starting to quite enjoy Potions class.
"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
By this time half the class had their hands up, but Potter just quipped, "I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" This brought a chorus of laughter from most of the Gryffindors, although Hermione herself looked disapproving.
"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."
Potter pulled out a quill and parchment and began writing.
Snape asked, "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"
There was an awkward silence, and then a couple of hands tentatively went up.
Professor Snape called on Pansy Parkinson who nervously answered, "Well, Sir, those facts are all in chapter one of Magical Drafts and Potions so we knew we didn't need to write it down." This caused Potter to somehow go an even deeper shade of red.
"Good, Miss Parkinson. Very good," said Professor Snape, nodding. "However you will need to write this down," he added as he indicated some instructions on the board at the front of the class.
There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Professor Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor house for your cheek, Potter."
They were put into pairs and asked to brew a potion meant to cure boils. Draco ended up working with Blaise, which was a relief, as his father still hadn't sent him a replacement cauldron, and Blaise had brought his. Although the Professor called it a simple potion, it looked surprisingly complicated. It involved half-a-dozen ingredients including snake fang and jellied yak's milk. Each ingredient needed to be cut, cooked, stirred and mixed at precise temperatures and times. To add to the challenge several of the steps had to be done simultaneously. But to Draco it didn't seem like work at all. Many of the classes this week had been interesting. Astronomy had been kind of fun. But in Potions Draco was so focused on the lesson that he actually lost track of time. The delicate precision with which the potion had to be prepared took all his concentration. He actually gave a startled jump when Professor Snape leaned over and drew the attention of the class to the proper way Draco was stewing his horned slugs. No one took much notice, though, because at that moment a Gryffindor's concoction managed to melt its way through a cauldron. Draco, who was in the final stages of his work, tried his best to ignore the chaos that erupted as the mixture, giving off noxious fumes, went on to destroy most of a table and began eating away at the floor.
When he was finally done and had a chance to sit back while Blaise carefully ladled out their finished product into a beaker, Draco was astonished to discover that two hours had passed. Even more surprisingly, it appeared that many students barely seemed to have started their potions.
Draco brought the beaker to the front of the class and handed the mixture in.
"Ahhh, first ones done, Mr Malfoy," said Professor Snape who was regarding the still-smoking hole in the floor with an air of quiet resentment.
"Here's mine, Professor," said Hermione Granger, thrusting her work forward a moment later.
"Thank you, Miss Granger," said the Potions Master, taking the second beaker and inspecting the students' work.
Both potions looked a similar yellowish-brown colour. Professor Snape put them down as his eyes swept the room. Heaving a little sigh, he observed, "I am doubtful that many more will complete a potion even vaguely resembling the hoped for outcome but I suppose we must give them the full time to try. Since you are done early I suggest you spend the remaining time helping your friends or reading ahead."
"That wasn't so bad! I expected it to be much harder," whispered Hermione as they headed back to their tables.
Draco nodded but before he could say anything Hermione asked, "Have you found out what my name means yet?"
"Er… maybe."
"I'll assume that's a no," she smiled, "but at least you have until Monday to figure it out. I'd suggest the library if you haven't tried there already."
"Oh right, Hogwarts has a library! I think I'd heard there was one here."
She smiled again. Draco suddenly felt embarrassed and hoped she assumed he was joking.
"See you," she whispered, sliding back into her chair amongst the Gryffindors.
It was satisfying to note that both Weasley and Potter seemed to be nowhere close to completing their Boil Removal potion.
Draco spent a few minutes trying to help Crabbe and Greg but he just seemed to make them nervous.
"Crikey, give us a little room here," snapped Crabbe as he glanced nervously at his watch.
Draco opened his copy of Magical Drafts and Potions and began flipping through it, coming to rest at a page which explained how to increase the potency of a normal Shrinking potion. He was soon drawn in again, quietly mixing the potion in his mind, until he was distracted by the sounds of the class leaving.
Professor Snape was standing next to him. "Yes indeed, the lesson is over, Mister Malfoy. You are free to go."
After an exhausting week, the last thing Draco expected to be doing was voluntarily lingering after his final class. But instead of grabbing his pack and running out, he pointed to his book and asked, "What is Grundlewood, professor? This potion calls for powdered root of Grundlewood."
Professor Snape inspected him for a moment, deciding whether Draco really wanted to know or was merely trying to impress a teacher by feigning interest. Draco felt an odd pang in his head – not like a headache, just an odd jolt he'd never felt before. It passed quickly, though for a few seconds it was hard to focus on Professor Snape's face.
"Grundlewood is an extremely rare tree found only in marshes and then usually only in those occupied by magical creatures like will-o-wisps and hinkypunks. Luckily Hogwarts has a few Grundlewoods in the swamp at the far end of the grounds. They are actually very useful for a variety of potions, Draconius."
"You can call me Draco. Everyone does."
"Yes, I've noticed that you prefer your nickname. Why is that?"
"I don't know. It's just what I've been called all my life. Draconius just seems a bit long, a bit too fancy, I guess."
"Understandable, I suppose. When I was at Hogwarts I was fond of the nickname 'Sev,' though not many people used it."
"You went to Hogwarts too?"
"Certainly," nodded Professor Snape, a raised eyebrow showing that he was surprised that Draco didn't already know this. "Didn't your father tell you? He was Slytherin Prefect when I first came to school."
"So that would make you about four years younger than my father."
"Yes I believe so. Still, I'm old enough to prefer being called Severus now. I find that it adds a certain 'je ne c'est quoi', though I don't know what it is." He flashed a smile (though the muscles in his face didn't look like they were used to it) as if he'd just said something quite clever. The smile disappeared just as quickly as it had come and he added with a disappointed tone, "Let me guess. You don't speak French."
As Draco shook his head Professor Snape muttered, "Well that's not important. We'll stick to using 'Draco' if you prefer. Although if you ever apply for a job at Hogwarts you might want to use your full name. Headmaster Dumbledore seems to have a fondness for teachers whose names end in 'us.' He hired me, to teach Potions, Filius for Charms, and now Quirinus Quirrell to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Maybe you should drop off an application – I believe the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Kettleburn, is planning on retiring in a year or two."
"Thanks Professor," Draco chuckled, gathering his books together. "Well, I guess I should be going."
"As you wish, Mr Malfoy, but don't feel the need to rush off. Potions always requires a lot of cleaning up so I'm usually here for a while at the end of class anyway. You're welcome to stay and practice your potions if you like."
The invitation sounded nice. "I would, but I have a lot of catching up to do. I still haven't fully unpacked, I need to write a letter to my mother, and I've heard there's a library here. I should probably at least figure out where that is, but thanks, Professor. I'm sure I'll take you up on that another time. I didn't expect it but I actually found this class quite fun. At the start of the week I expected that Potions would be my least favourite class and that Defense Against Dark Arts would be my favourite, but I think it's probably the other way around. Well, actually, Transfiguration is probably the worst but that's only because of McGon…"
Draco's voice trailed off. He had been enjoying his conversation so much that he hadn't stopped to think about what he was saying, but he probably shouldn't be complaining about his teachers to other teachers. However, Professor Snape showed no sign of being upset. He just snorted and smiled.
"You're certainly not the first Slytherin to feel that way. It is usually Gryffindor that provides us with the stiffest competition for the House Cup and as head of Gryffindor House I think Professor McGonagall sometimes gets a bit drawn into the competition herself. It's a pity really. You would think she'd get used to losing to us. Of course it's not really fair…"
"Fair?"
"Yes. I mean the Sorting Hat puts those that are most cunning and most competitive into Slytherin House, so it is no surprise that Slytherins usually win."
"But Gryffindors are supposed to be the bravest. That's got to count for something." Draco couldn't believe he was actually defending the Gryffindors.
Professor Snape gave a short derisive laugh. "Brave? Courage is only courage if one stands and faces that which one finds terrifying. In my experience most Gryffindors do risky things because they are too foolish to realize their peril. And yes, if in competition one hurls oneself at danger without a thought to the risks or to the improbability of success then sometimes, usually through dumb luck, one is successful."
Professor Snape pulled out his wand and with some casual flicks began to clean up the mess left behind by the class. "Anyway, off you go Draco. Start your weekend."
