Chapter 9 – The Remembrall

"Can't you keep it down a bit? This is supposed to be our nap time." Crabbe threw an orange which bounced off the door that Greg was propping up, leaving a squishy imprint.

"It'll be done in a minute," Greg grumbled, holding the door in place while a fifth-year that he'd just paid five Sickles set to work on it with her wand.

Greg wouldn't explain why he was replacing the curtain to his den with a door (or where he'd actually found the door in the first place) except to say that he wanted a little more privacy.

"At least it'll muffle out his snoring," whispered Theodore to Blaise. The two of them had been playing cards at the small table in the dormitory until the mix of carpentry and sorcery going on in the background became too much of a distraction. Now they were just watching while occasionally making what they thought were amusing comments.

Draco, lying on his bed and doing his best to ignore the cacophony, put his quill down and blew lightly across the parchment to dry the ink before re-reading the letter he'd just written.

Dear Mother,

I've just read your letter for about the tenth time. I'm sorry too that you won't be able to come and visit me at Hogwarts this term.You will be home at Christmas though, right?I'm only asking because in your letter you say that you "hope" to see me then.

I've been put in Slytherin House, just like you and father were. I'm sharing a dormitory (we call it 'The Cave') with four other boys – Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, Theodore Nott, and Gregory Goyle.I think you already know some of them.

Thank you so much for the present you sent me. I must confess that it took me some time to figure out exactly what it was, but I'm pretty sure it's a hole.I first realized this quite by accident yesterday morning.I fell quite a distance the first time I used it, but luckily there was a lake beneath me.I haven't told any of the other boys about it – I don't know why.Maybe I will later.I just don't feel like telling them right now.Do you think I should tell them? I think you were right about keeping it a secret from Father – I doubt he would approve.

The classes here are a lot of work but I'm enjoying them too. Well, I'm enjoying some more than others.It's only been a little more than a week so I'm sure things will change, but so far my favourite classes are Potions (that's with Professor Snape who I think you know as well) and Astronomy (which seems more like a club than a class).

One thing that struck me as strange in the first week was how much of class time we spent just practicing spells.Often we just divide into pairs and try out spells on each other.It seemed like a waste of time putting two people together who don't know how to do a spell and have them spend an hour or two just trying to do it.I thought the teachers were just being lazy, not wanting to help people out or show them how to really do it (maybe there is a bit of that too, ha ha) but I realize now that practice is so important.Sometimes it doesn't seem like I'm learning a new spell, it seems like the magic was always inside me, like I'm just remembering how to do it.The more I do it the more I can feel it flow through me and out.I know that other things are important (like the way you flick your wand or the way you pronounce a word) but I'm really surprised how much is just in your head.Nothing happens until you think it will.Father said I'd probably never be a great magician but maybe he's wrong.I think I might be someday (please don't tell him I said that).

Not everything is perfect of course. I've made some friends, but there are a lot of people who are… hmmmmm, what word should I use? Prats? Boors? Morons?Well, you get the idea.Luckily most of them are in Gryffindor so I don't have to see them a lot.I've had a few fights – not real fights, just arguments really.I know you and father would want me to stick up for myself.The other day one of the older Gryffindors was making bowls of pudding appear and then dumping them on people's heads as they walked by.I pulled out my wand and walked right up to him like I was going to duel him or something.Of course he was about five years ahead of me so he knew I couldn't really do anything.While he was grinning and waving his wand in my face I snatched it out of his hand and tossed it out the window.You should have seen the look on his face.

I like it here but I miss home. I miss you.It's too bad you can't come visit me this term.I really really really hope I get to see you at Christmas.

Your obedient son,

Draco

His mother would be pleased with the letter, Draco knew, but as he rolled it up and tied it with a small piece of string, wishing he knew how to seal it with a touch of his wand as he'd seen some of the older students do, he did feel a twinge of guilt about his lie. He hadn't actually thrown anyone's wand out the window. He had written that because he thought it would impress his mother. He didn't like lying but he wanted her to be proud. The idea of throwing the letter away and starting over bounced around in his head for a brief moment before he decided that one little lie wouldn't hurt, especially one that was bound to make his mother happy.

Draco was the first to leave the common room, but because he stopped by the Owlery to send his letter on the way, he was the last to arrive at Astronomy class except for Greg. Professor Sinistra was already there too, sitting on the wall of the Astronomy Tower looking towards the distant mountains, her legs dangling casually over the edge.

"Er, maybe you should come down off the wall, Professor," Daphne said in a tremulous voice.

"What? Oh yes. I take your point," Aurora Sinistra answered in an unconcerned tone. She glanced straight down. "I suppose it would be a rather terminal fall if someone knocked me over the edge." She swung her legs back around and faced the class. "But, please, call me Aurora. Now who did their homework?"

There was a palpable stirring of tension amongst the students as no one could remember being assigned any homework.

"You know. The wishes. You all wished upon a falling star and you were supposed to see if it came true."

There was a collective sigh of relief.

"Well, mine did when you warmed up the tower last lesson," answered Pansy, a long scarf circling her neck three times and gloves on her hands.

"Yes, we remember that. Anyone else?"

"Mine did. I wished there would be orange juice for breakfast and there was."

"I wished that I wouldn't get lost on the way to History of Magic class and I didn't"

"Well, I wished that there would be a hundred-thousand Galleons on my bed when I got back and there wasn't."

"Hmmm. And what about you, Greg?" Professor Sinistra asked as Gregory Goyle finally came puffing up the ladder. "Did your wish from last class come true?"

"I guess so. I wished class would end and it did, eventually."

Instead of getting angry at this, Aurora laughed out loud. "I think we're seeing a pattern here. If your wish was something that was relatively likely to happen anyway, it seems more likely to have come true.

Draco didn't think that his wish had come true. He'd wished that Potter would be accidentally transfigured into a mango but as far as he knew it hadn't happened.

At breakfast two days later, Potter was still stubbornly un-mango-like and the Gryffindors were shrieking loudly as usual.

"Why do they always need to shout at each other instead of just talking?" Draco asked the boys at his breakfast table.

Crabbe ignored him and sighed while prodding the yolk of his egg with a slender spoon. "Not exactly soft-boiled, is it?"

Theodore disengaged from a conversation with the rest of the table, leaned over and asked, "Crabbe, who do you reckon is the worst teacher?"

"Would it kill them to make a nice Eggs Benedict or Quiche Lorraine once in a while?"

"What?"

"Never mind. The answer is McGonagall, hands down."

"See!" Theodore turned back to the others as if he had just proved his point.

The debate over 'worst teacher' had been going back and forth for a while. It was down to McGonagall and Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic class. Most of the Slytherins were favouring McGonagall, arguing that although Binns was obviously the most boring, you need something more than that to really qualify as the "worst."

"Still, having class with him just after getting out of bed is deadly."

"It's a lot better than the days when we get McGonagall first thing."

"I like having Binns in the morning. You've got the entire class to catch up on your sleep. I just wish the chairs were softer."

"I think Snape's the worst," Blaise piped up. When he saw the surprised looks on everyone's faces he said, "What? He acts nice enough but it's just because he knows our parents. When you look at his face you can tell he doesn't really like us. He's just a suck-up."

"What do you think the new teacher will be like?" Pansy lowered her voice to a whisper as if somehow fearing that Madam Hooch, who would be teaching their Flying lesson that afternoon, could have better hearing than any of the other professors. The grey-haired professor was a new arrival at the staff table this morning.

"I bet she'll be like McGonagall. She looks a bit like her," answered Greg.

"No way! She looks nicer than that."

"I don't think we should really be talking about the teachers this way," interrupted Dianna, who seemed to be running out of patience with her fellow Slytherins more and more often lately.

"Oh come on!" said Crabbe tossing his spoon aside. "You can't help liking or hating things. Take this breakfast for instance… "

What he was going to say was drowned out by shouts and wing beats as dozens of owls bringing the morning post swooped into the Great Hall. Only a couple of Slytherins received letters. Draco kept scanning the room hoping that one of the owls would come swooping down to him, but none did. All he could do was watch as others studied their parcels.

An even louder than normal disturbance burst out from the Gryffindor table. Neville Longbottom, the boy whose potion had melted a hole in the floor in the first Potions class, was holding up a fist sized orb full of swirling white smoke while the other Gryffindors crowded around. The orb reminded Draco of the crystal ball back in the Malfoy's library and he studied it from a distance, wondering if it could be the same. Eventually, curiosity got the best of him and he rose, followed a step later by Crabbe and Greg, and made his way over to the Gryffindor table. As the three boys approached, the ball suddenly changed from white to a deep red. Neville looked concerned and was muttering something to his neighbours when Potter, spotting the Slytherin boys' approach, shouted from across the table, "Hey Neville, looks like the idiot detector your gran sent is working after all!"

Draco stopped in mid-stride as the Gryffindors all burst out laughing, with Weasley, braying like a donkey, making the most noise of all.

Instinctively Draco snatched the ball out of Neville's hand with half a mind to hurl it straight at Potter's head, regardless of all the teachers sitting a short distance away. However, with a scraping of chairs a half-a-dozen Gryffindors stood up, their body language just daring Draco a make a move. Standing straight in front of him was Ron Weasley. He was at least half a head taller than Draco with overly long arms which made him look a bit like an ape. But it wasn't Weasley's glare that stopped Draco. Professor McGonagall, who couldn't have arrived any faster even if she'd been sitting at the Gryffindor table, asked, with her usual tight scowl, "What's going on?"

"Just looking," answered Draco, passing the ball back to Neville, who looked genuinely confused about what was going on.

Six hours later, everybody was as excited about the first Flying class as if it was Christmas morning. Everybody, that is, except for Draco who was still fuming about Potter's insult as he stood around on the wind-lashed field below Hogwarts Castle waiting for class to start. The sun was beaming down brightly on what would be one of the last sunny afternoons of the fall, but it was still chilly.

The object of his anger, the Gryffindors, finally showed up en masse, several minutes after the bell had rung. Madam Hooch, who had been watching for them, stomped across the field, her yellow eyes flashing.

As soon as the last Gryffindor finished strolling down the hill, Madam Hooch bellowed, "Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone stand by a broomstick."

Draco's anger was forgotten in a flash, replaced with a wave of nausea as he scurried over to the rows of brooms lying on the ground. He knew how to fly, but was still regretting how much he'd boasted about it. His mind was filled with images of not even being able to take off. Potter would love that. He could already hear Potter's grating voice taunting, "Nice flying Malfoy. Any other tricks you want to show us?"

Despite all his worries, Draco had no trouble getting started. In fact, only a few people had any trouble getting their brooms to obey the command of "Up," and soon everyone was straddling a hovering broom. Madam Hooch went up and down the line giving bits of advice. She told Draco that his grip was too far back and tapped the spot on the broom that he should hold. When she was at the end of the line she stepped back and told the class to prepare to take off. Before she could give them the signal, Neville Longbottom suddenly shot skyward, but only for a couple of seconds. Slipping off his broom almost immediately, he plummeted through the air to the gasps of the watching crowd, and crashed to the ground almost exactly at Draco's feet.

"I'm all right," Neville groaned, even though he didn't look all right at all.

Madam Hooch helped Longbottom to his feet. He staggered from side to side as she led him back toward the castle, calling over her shoulder that all students had better stay firmly on the ground until she returned and issuing dire warnings about what would happen if they didn't.

Nervous giggles and excited chatter filled the air.

"Glad that wasn't me!"

"I did the same thing first time I was on a broom. I was only four but I still remember it."

Some of the students were laughing now, watching as Neville's broom continued to fly on its own out over the Forbidden Forest.

"Do you think it'll ever come back?"

"I wouldn't if I were a broom. Fly! You're free at last! Madam Hooch will never catch you now."

Blaise and Theodore killed the time by having a jousting match with the front of their brooms, feet still on the ground of course.

Crabbe and Pansy were busy arguing with some of the Gryffindors over whether or not Gryffindor house should have some points taken away for Neville's bad flying.

"Did she say he'd broken his arm?" asked Greg

"Maybe, but did you see his face? He had this great big lump on his…" Draco trailed off as he noticed a red glow in the grass right next to his feet.

"What is that?" Greg asked.

"It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him," Draco grumbled, plucking up the smooth round orb.

Potter noticed him pick it up and yelled out, "Hey look, Neville's idiot detector is going off again."

The Gryffindors all burst out laughing, except for Hermione who just stared around at her classmates disapprovingly.

"Give that here, Malfoy," Potter demanded, smiling nastily.

Draco face reddened. His desire to not let himself be bullied by Potter, especially in front of both houses, pushed out all the anxiety he had about testing his flying skills. He kicked off, and though the broom felt awkward and unfamiliar, it did the trick. After all, he just needed to put Neville's orb up on a ledge or in a tree and Potter would be helpless to do anything about it. However, Draco's heart sank when, moments later, Potter soared after him. Draco tried to shake him with a series of quick cuts and turns, but Potter had no trouble sticking to him, taunting him loud enough for his words to be heard by the awestruck students below.

It started to dawn on Draco that Potter must have been lying when he said he had never flown before. "He wants to show off how fast he can learn – make me look bad! He's going to show me up in front of everybody," On impulse he hurled the orb as far as his could. While Potter raced off after it, Draco drifted back to the ground, landing behind Greg and Crabbe.

"I wanted to help you, mate," said Crabbe, squatting on his broom and hopping awkwardly, "but either this broom is broken or it has something against me." Crabbe dropped it to the ground and complained, "You've won this round, stick, but I'm on to you."

While Crabbe was talking, Draco was watching as Longbottom's ball arced through the air. Then something happened that made him feel worse, even though he wouldn't have believed that to be possible. Potter made a steep dive, caught the orb with one hand, pulled hard up on the broom with the other, and tumbled gently onto the ground. Holding the orb high in the air in triumph he was greeted by cheers from the Gryffindors, and even from some Slytherins.

While trying to wipe the stupefied expression off his face, Draco was, for the first time ever, happy to hear Professor McGonagall's voice. She was bellowing angrily while marching straight towards Potter. Apparently she'd seen Potter's little flight and she obviously wasn't too happy about it. Better still, she took no notice of Draco. Perhaps she hadn't seen him in the air.

McGonagall dragged the protesting Potter away and it wasn't until dinner, where students were devouring everything in sight with wolfish enthusiasm, that the Slytherins saw him again. Instead of looking like someone who'd suffered a harsh punishment, which is what everyone expected after Professor Hooch's dire warnings about what would happen if anyone tried flying while she was gone, he appeared oddly cheerful as he joked and laughed with the others at the boisterous Gryffindor table.

For the second time that day Draco's curiosity got the better of him. He scraped his wooden chair back noisily across the stone floor, the sound joining the cacophony of voices. He was surprised when both Greg and Crabbe stuffed a couple more things in their mouths and jumped up to follow him. He didn't know if it they were developing a habit of following him everywhere or if they were just curious about what he was up to. Regardless, he felt a little relieved to have the company, and the three made their way across the Great Hall.

As Draco approached, Potter's nasal voice suddenly rose higher, as if he was addressing someone far down the table. The words were obviously meant for Draco's ears. "Yes, it's quite true. They've asked me to be Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Oh, but keep it quiet. No one's to know – I've been asked to keep it a bit of a secret."

Draco regarded Potter, slouched arrogantly in a chair with his legs splayed out and his hands folded behind his head, looking like a king keeping court. Potter had to be lying, didn't he? Although Draco's suddenly felt queasy and unsure, he decided that he needed to call the bluff.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

Ron Weasley stood up and said, (although it was a bit hard to understand what he was saying because his mouth was half-full of food) "A bit out of your neighbourhood aren't you, Malfoy?"

Draco spat back, "Why are you always shoving your filthy face into mine, you cretin? Look at you, with your moth-eaten robe, dirty shoes and… and… and do you ever even take a shower?"

"You're a lot braver now you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," Potter chuckled, still sitting on his throne and grinning.

Some of the Gryffindors started chanting under their breath, "Fight… Fight… Fight," keeping it just quiet enough to stop the teachers from hearing, although a few of the staff were already looking in their direction wondering what exactly was going on.

"That's not a bad idea," rumbled Greg, punching his fist into his palm.

"Oh, is that what your boss wants you to do? How much is he paying you to be his bodyguard, anyway?" Potter smirked.

Draco snorted, "As if I need bodyguards. I'd take you on any time on my own."

"When?" asked Potter in a high-pitched taunting voice.

Draco answered, "Tonight if you want."

Potter laughed and answered sarcastically, "Sure, anytime."

Both boys, egged on by their classmates, continued to bicker and pose for another minute until it was agreed that they would meet in the trophy room at midnight.

As they walked away, still getting jeers tossed at them, Crabbe asked, "Are you really going to fight him?"

"Gladly. But I'm not going to waste my time going to the trophy room tonight. There's no way he's really coming – he was only saying that hoping I'd get in trouble for roaming the halls after curfew."

"Oh, I see," said Greg, though his puzzled face suggested the opposite.

A lot of Slytherins didn't like Potions class much. It was "too hard," "too smelly," or "too long." However Draco did enjoy it. It was the only class where he could really settle down and work on something without interruptions.

Just as had happened the previous week, Draco was one of the first students finished the day's assignment. Most of the class seemed to be only half done while some seemed to have given up completely and were just playing around with ingredients.

Weasley was busy boiling something the looked like yellow pus, occasionally flicking drops of it on the table and watching the bubbling brew eat little holes in the tabletop whenever Professor Snape's back was turned.

"Tortoise shells are not the same as turtle shells. That is why your potion seems to have turned into a pile of congealed soot, Miss Parkinson."

"Excuse me, Professor?"

"Yes Mr Malfoy? How can I help you?"

"May I make another potion? Something out of the book?"

"Oh certainly, go right ahead. It's nothing dangerous is it?"

"I don't think so. I thought I'd give this Levitation potion a go."

For the remaining hour of class, and for another hour after that, Draco laboured away on the potion. It didn't turn out quite the right shade of blue and it didn't have the foamy head the book promised, but Professor Snape seemed impressed anyway.

"Not bad for a first try. Especially for someone who has only had two Potions lessons so far," said Professor Snape as he held the phial up to the light of a flickering torch. He then gingerly dipped a finger in and put a drop of the liquid on his tongue.

"Hmm. I've tasted worse. It seems fine – it won't kill you, anyway. Next time, boil it a bit longer and when it says to mince the kelp you really need to mince it. Don't just chop it up; keep cutting until you can't make it any smaller."

"Is it really magic, Professor?"

"I couldn't really say unless I tested it properly. I doubt it'll be particularly potent but it'll probably work to a degree."

"No, sorry sir. I didn't mean my potion specifically. I just meant Potions. I mean, mixing things up. It isn't really magic, is it?"

"A common misconception, but actually, yes it is. Potions are not simply some chemical reaction that Muggles have yet to discover. They can have an affect over an area. So a Levitation potion will not only affect the person who drinks it, but whatever they're touching as well. An even better proof that Potions are true magic is that they may or may not have any affect at all. A wizard who drinks a Levitation potion will start to float freely. If a Muggle were to drink the same potion, nothing would happen."

"So could a potion be used as a test? To see if someone is actually a wizard or not?"

"It certainly could, and not just to tell if someone is magical or not. Potions can be used to test how powerful a wizard is. A potion is often much more effective on a sorcerer with greater skill than on a lesser wizard."

Professor Snape passed the potion back to Draco. "I probably shouldn't let you keep this, but let's break the rules just this once. Do me a favour, though, and don't tell everyone, or they'll all want to be in here brewing up potions for Love or for Treasure-Finding."