Chapter Sixteen: Chang is a Cheater!
Exactly as Draco had said, when Tuesday morning rolled around, Harry awoke to find his copy of Advanced Potion-Making sitting next to a jug of blood on his bedside table. Two days earlier than requested.
Harry drank the blood, and then sent Mundungus Fletcher a letter with the location, date and time for the portkey. Christmas Eve, 24th December. Burns Alley. Before breakfast, around dawn. He only hoped that Mundungus would keep his word because the thought of Draco being stuck in his situation left an uncomfortable feeling of nausea in Harry's stomach.
To his dismay, too, Ron was becoming unbearable. Any imaginings that his anger would simmer down from his argument with his sister yesterday were quickly dismissed when Ron continued to mutter incessantly, at breakfast, in class, in the corridors. Hermione had taken Ginny's side on the matter and refused to speak to Ron about it, reasoning that his sister was free to date whomever she liked. And Harry agreed with her.
He privately wondered if Ron even truly approved of him fancying Draco.
On the day of the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match, Ron was especially grumpy. The quidditch practices over the last few days had been awful. Ginny was the team's Chaser, Ron the Keeper. The two's frosty relationship spilled over into the practices. Ginny made bad passes, and Ron couldn't save a single goal. For their last practice, Harry had sat in the stands beside Hermione, watching Katie Bell shout at the pair of siblings time after time. By the end, her voice had turned hoarse, her temper held back by thin ice.
"You either pack in your spat, Weasleys," she'd shouted from her broomstick, "or I'll bench the ruddy both of you for tomorrow's game! I swear, I will put McLaggen on, Ron. And Ginny, you'll be replaced by Romilda Vane." Ginny had ceased glaring at her brother then, and turned on her broomstick to stare in surprise at the Gryffindor Captain. "That's right - Romilda Vane!"
The threat of Romilda Vane replacing Ginny, the youngest Weasley, who had wanted the position of Chaser on the Gryffindor Team for years, settled the matter. Ginny made six excellent passes, assisted in four attempted goals, and didn't once glare or make another snide comment against her brother. Ron, meanwhile, saved all but two goals, although Harry thought he only did well because of his hatred for McLaggen. The man was still being invited to join Slughorn's dinner parties, and had attended them with Hermione at his side to boot.
Harry hoped the siblings would get it together for the match, but he had his doubts. He wanted them to end their spat. He wanted Ron to have a really good day and focus on something other than Ginny. And for that reason, come the morning of the match, he found himself digging into his trunk and hauling out the tiny bottle of Felix Felicis that he'd won earlier that year in Potions.
He and Hermione left for the Great Hall early. When Ron arrived in the Hall, the Gryffindor table erupted into a cheer. Harry waved, beckoning his friend to sit beside them. Ron grimaced weakly as he joined them.
"Cheer up, Ron," Lavender called from her seat. "You'll be brilliant, I know it!"
Ron stared blankly at the plates of food in front of him before grabbing a single slice of toast. He's even worse off than I thought he'd be.
"Tea?" Harry asked him. "Coffee? Pumpkin juice?"
"Anything."
As Ron chewed moodily on his toast, Harry made to fill a glass of pumpkin juice for him. He overheard Hermione asking Ron 'how are you this morning?' and 'did you get enough sleep?', but he didn't hear what answers Ron gave her. He finished pouring the drink and then slipped the bottle of liquid luck out from his pocket. Briefly, and without even taking off the cap, he made to quickly give the impression of tipping the potion into the drink before slipping the bottle into his pocket again.
He put the glass in front of Ron.
"There you go, Ron. Drink up!" Harry said, almost too eagerly.
Ron had scarcely raised the glass to his lips before Hermione interrupted him, "Ron, stop -!"
"What's wrong, 'Mione?" Ron asked.
She huffed. "Harry did something, is what's wrong. He put something in your drink!"
"Nothing's wrong with his drink, 'Mione," Harry said, shrugging, before returning to his own breakfast of eggs and bacon. "Maybe you're seeing things? A migraine? Could be an elf-thing, you know."
"You - you had it in your hand. Just now, you had it." She rose from the table, grabbed her bookbag and hauled it over her shoulder. "You rotten liar, Harry. This is not a elf-thing, I actually saw you tip something into his drink. Ron - Ronald, don't you dare drink it!"
"Stop bossing me about," Ron said. He chugged down the pumpkin juice, consuming over half the glass. When he placed the glass down, Hermione gave him an disappointed scowl.
"You never listen to me," she said, sounding more frustrated than angry. She turned on Harry, muttering, "And you, I'd never of believed it of you, spiking a drink. You should be expelled, Harry. Awful vampires..."
She turned on the spot and dashed out of the Great Hall. Harry winced. He hadn't meant to make her angry, or insult her elven genetics. I'll apologise later, she'll understand. I didn't even pour anything into his drink, anyway. The bottle was still in his pocket, capped and full to the brim. Besides, she actually confounded McLaggen during the quidditch trials. Made him miss saving a goal. I haven't done anything.
Hermione had never really understand how serious the matter of quidditch was for them. Even Harry, who now couldn't play and would have to watch from the stands, was eager to see Gryffindor beat Slytherin. I wonder if Draco will be up in the stands too? The idea made his chest tense up. They were still on non-speaking terms because Harry had informed Dumbledore that Draco Malfoy was now a Death Eater, and there was the matter of him controlling his vampire tendencies, too. I probably should've kept my big mouth shut.
He wondered when Dumbledore would be meeting with Draco. Draco won't tell me, that's for sure. The prospect of not knowing when Draco would meet with Dumbledore stayed with him as he left Ron to make for the quidditch stands alongside Seamus and Neville.
Sitting in the stands proved difficult for Harry. Not only was he forced to watch Dean Thomas occupy his position as Seeker, he also had to deal with students speaking to him. It didn't matter that they were sympathetic about his circumstances, or if they were pleased that a vampire couldn't play professionally. All Harry wanted to do was watch his team; he didn't want to be the topic of the conversation.
Even Zacharias Smith, who was commentating for the game, made small, snide comments about him being unable to play this year. "One has to wonder what it's like to go from playing for the Gryffindor Team for years, to being forced to sit in the stands."
Professor McGonagall had practically screamed into the microphone then, threatening to remove the Hufflepuff from his role instantly if he didn't behave and focus on the game.
Worse, Draco was not seated in the Slytherin stands. Harry had burrowed a pair of binoculars from Seamus and had looked carefully at the Slytherin stands, only to find that both Draco and Zabini were not in attendance for the game. He privately wished he'd brought the Marauder's Map with him.
When the game finally ended, with Dean Thomas beating Draco Malfoy's replacement, a fifth-year by the name of Harper, the Gryffindor stands erupted into a blast of applause. Harry rose to his feet, clapping. Seamus dropped his binoculars in his excitement, and Neville was whooping. Neville's voice would surely be croaky by tomorrow morning.
It isn't so bad, watching the game from up here.
He watched as Ginny, rather than swooping to join her team on the ground, soared ahead, barely missing the commentary box. Her near crash caused Zacharias to duck and shriek into the microphone. The sound pierced through Harry's ears like a wailing mandrake, but it was a welcome one. He waved in Ginny's direction as she, after apologising to Professor McGonagall, flew down to the Gryffindor team.
Harry, Seamus and Neville quickly made their way to the ground, using the wooden staircase at the back of the stands. It was rickety and unsteady, and Harry wondered if the staircase was magically charmed to take the weight of so many students running down it at once.
"Did you see that dive Dean did to avoid a bludger early in the game? Barely missed it!" Seamus exclaimed. "I almost had a heart attack, watching him play."
"You'll have to get used to seeing that," Neville said. "Dean is the best Seeker we've got now."
Seamus grunted unhappily.
Whilst Neville was only too content to return to the Gryffindor Tower early, Harry remained with Seamus and waited at the entrance of the Gryffindor changing rooms. Hermione wandered over a few moments later, among Hannah Abbott and Sue Li. She left her own dorm mates to stand alongside Harry and Seamus by the entrance.
"We need to talk, Harry," she said frostily.
"Fine."
Harry wasn't in the mood to speak to her, not when he knew she would ask whether he had spiked Ron's drink or not. She was the one who confounded McLaggen, I've done nothing. Dean came out of the entrance soon afterwards, limping.
"You're injured?" Seamus asked.
Dean grinned. "Few bruises, that's all. Banged my foot against that bludger, didn't manage to escape it entirely."
"You should've been more careful!"
"We won the game, didn't we? I can rest it off."
Seamus threw his hands up and waltzed off, a scowl on his face. Dean muttered a quick apology to Harry and Hermione, and then chased after him. As Harry shuffled his feet, unenthusiastic to speak to Hermione, let alone be in her presence, Ron stepped out of the changing room, dressed down in a red shirt and jeans, carrying his broomstick over his shoulder.
"Was someone shouting out here?" Ron asked.
"That was Seamus," Harry answered. "He wasn't happy that Dean was injured."
Ron shrugged. "Something like that was bound to happen. Dean isn't used to quick manoeuvres. You could've pulled off that, Harry. A bludger like that never would've hit you."
"Oh, stop it, Ronald!" You shouldn't have even played," Hermione said. "Harry spiked your drink. That's illegal."
"What, are you gonna turn us in, 'Mione? Gonna tell McGonagall on us?" Ron asked, egging her on.
"No, I didn't," Harry said. He lifted the bottle from his pocket. "See? It's still full. You played the game all on your own, mate. All those saves, was down to you."
Ron snorted. He turned on Hermione. "You hear that? All that, 'Harry added Felix Felicis to your drink - oh, don't drink that pumpkin juice, Ron!' Turns out, Harry is trustworthy, and I can save goals without help, Hermione."
"I never said you couldn't save goals. And of course Harry is trustworthy." Hermione huffed. "Honestly, you thought you'd been given the drink, too, Ron!"
"Yeah, well. Clearly I trust Harry more than you."
Harry watched as Ron then brushed passed Hermione, no doubt intending on heading back to the Gryffindor Tower. There's gonna be a party in the Tower, and Hermione and I can't join it, Harry realised.
"Err, what do you want to do?" Harry asked. "Head back to the Half-Human Tower? I'm sure there'll be celebrations there."
"No. No, thank you, Harry. I need to be alone," she said. "I think I've had enough of Ronald Weasley and Quidditch today. If you need me, I'll be in the library."
Harry groaned as she swept past him, making for the courtyard to the Entrance Hall. How are they still arguing? He had honestly thought that with Ron focusing more on quidditch, and a win for Gryffindor against Slytherin, it would improve the atmosphere. Instead, Ron was becoming more arrogant than ever.
He trekked his way back to the Half-Human Tower alone. On the seventh floor, on entering the corridor that held the Fat Lady's portrait, Harry heard the distinct voice of Pansy Parkinson.
"Maybe this will make you think differently! Levicorpus!"
That's a spell from my copy of Advanced Potion-Making.
Harry rounded the corner and spotted her. She'd cast the spell on Seamus, causing him to float mid-air by his ankle. Dean was standing nearby, wand in hand.
"Tell me where Draco is. He never misses a quidditch match. Ever. Not even when he had the flu at twelve years old, he still wanted to partake in practices," Parkinson said. "You're his dorm mates, so tell me where he is!"
"I already told you, I don't know. He isn't in the Half-Human Tower!" Seamus shouted. "Why do you want to see him?"
"None of your business, you stingy merrow!"
A merrow, Harry thought, frowning. Is that what Seamus is? He wondered if Seamus was at all related to the merpeople residing in the Black Lake.
Parkinson released the spell, and Seamus fell onto the carpet, his arms outspread and catching his fall. He tumbled onto his back and lay on the ground, although, all the while, Dean was still pointing his wand in Parkinson's direction.
"Why don't you get lost, Pansy?" he spat.
"Big words for a boy with a limp. Why don't I finish the job that the bludger couldn't and break your leg?"
As Harry made to pull out his wand, he watched Parkinson raise hers and open her mouth. A loud shriek made her grimace and shut her eyes in the next moment, though. Harry grunted, left his wand in his pocket, and instead covered his ears with his hands and tried to look around the room to see what exactly was making the noise.
His gaze drifted to Seamus on the ground. The Gryffindor was shrieking at Parkinson, his mouth wide open. He sounded just as awful as the selkies in the Black Lake. Worse, louder than one. Seamus then closed his mouth, brought his wand out from his pocket, and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"
Parkinson's wand flew out from her hand and tumbled to the ground.
"Get out of here," Dean said. "Go back to the dungeons."
Parkinson grabbed her wand and ran around the corner, making for the Grand Staircase.
"What spell was that she bloody used?" Groaning, Seamus climbed to his feet, and then went on, "I've never seen it any textbook."
Harry kept quiet even though he knew the answer. Draco must've shown her my copy before he handed it back. The knowledge that Draco had allowed other Slytherins to read from his copy of Advanced Potion-Making irritated him.
He was so distracted by the realisation that he barely noticed the Fat Lady's portrait swinging open. Out-stepped Ron and Lavender from the Gryffindor common room. Ron had his right arm swung around her shoulder. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips were reddened, as if he had lipstick smudged over them.
"We heard shrieking?" Lavender asked.
She's wearing pink lipstick, Harry realised. It was smudged a bit as well.
"Yeah. Thought I'd check it out," Ron said, grinning. "Everything all right, there, Harry?"
Dean huffed. "It was Parkinson. She was bothering Seamus, asking this and that about Malfoy. Wanted to know his whereabouts. Seamus went into his Tower to see if Malfoy was hiding in the dorm or their common room. Didn't find him anywhere."
"Yeah, and Parkinson didn't like that answer. She sounded mightily worried " Seamus added. "I had to scare her. Being part-merman is great when your singing sounds like Moaning Myrtle on one of her bad days."
Never mind Parkinson, Harry was worried, too. Draco wasn't at breakfast and he's missed a quidditch match. Where is he? He reckoned he knew the answer, but he didn't want to believe it. Refused to. Why would Draco be in the Room of Hidden Things? We're rescuing his mother, he doesn't need to keep fixing that damned Cabinet.
Ron chuckled. "Well, you can't trust Slytherins. They're always up to something."
"Shut up, Ron," Harry said, glowering at his friend.
Harry resisted the urge to jinx Ron. He didn't want to start casting spells at him and raise suspicion from Seamus and Dean, and Lavender of all people. They were snogging. Ron was snogging Lavender, and I can't even speak to Draco. Moodily, Harry pocketed his wand and walked off down the corridor for the Half-Human Tower, needing to find Draco Malfoy on the Marauder's Map, if only to restore his own sanity.
He can't be in the Room of Requirement. He can't -
By the time he reached his dorm room, having run up the staircase in the common room, he had worked himself up into such a tizzy that he immediately went for the jug of blood at his beside table. He consumed it, and then dived for his trunk. He felt mad. Obsessed. Almost like Parkinson had been earlier, but except her, he knew what the mission was that Draco had been given.
And it scared him.
His eyes scanned the pages of the map, searching for Draco's name. If I can't find it, that means he's in the Room of Requirement. Don't let him be there, please don't let him be fixing the Cabinet. He kept on searching. As his gaze scanned over the third floor, he noticed three markers lingering above the Defence Against the Dark Arts' classroom: Severus Snape, Blaise Zabini, and lastly, Draco Malfoy.
Harry exhaled. He's with Professor Snape. He's fine.
He found himself checking the map frequently as the weeks passed. Once a day became thrice. Every time he drank from the jug of blood at his beside, he'd then check the Marauder's Map to find Draco Malfoy's whereabouts. It became a part of his routine. A habit, that was all it was. I'm just checking on him, not obsessing. It was becoming harder to convince himself as the weeks passed.
When December arrived and the snow began to cover the castle grounds and towers, Harry received a package one morning at breakfast from Mundungus Fletcher, which contained a silver bracelet with a single, small ruby stone, and a letter, with the message, 'Bribed Filch to allow this in. You owe me. We'll talk about payment when you return to your godfather's home for the holidays.'
The bracelet was a portkey. Harry couldn't believe it. He had the means to rescue Draco and his mother now, all he needed to know was whether Dumbledore had given Draco the location of Grimmauld Place.
That meant he had to actually speak to Draco.
No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to work up the courage. Harry had effectively told Draco that he wanted to stay away from the blond prefect until he could learn to control his fangs. Great thinking there, Potter. Now he's avoiding you completely.
Privately, he wished that he hadn't said anything, especially since he was now having to attend Slughorn's Christmas party. The event was taking place tomorrow night. For the last month, students had been coming up to him, expecting him to invite them. Mostly women, but a bloke had approached him at one point. A Ravenclaw in their seventh year.
Harry had learned from Michael Corner that the only reason the older Ravenclaw had approached him was because he'd wanted a picture of Harry and himself to sell to the Daily Prophet. He'd quickly put a stop to that.
"You need to invite someone, Harry. Then you'll be able to get some peace," Hermione whispered. They were seated at a table in the library and having to keep their voices down. "Just because you and I are fighting with Ron, and you can't invite him -"
"I'm not fighting with him."
She snorted. "You are."
"I'm not. He's just spending all his time with lovely Lavender in the Gryffindor Tower and I can't enter the Tower," he insisted. "Besides, I need to focus on Draco. Christmas Eve is almost near and that's when -"
"Yes, yes, I know, Harry. You've said it a million times. That's when Draco and his mum are going to escape Malfoy Manor and use the portkey to take sanctuary at Grimmauld Place." She gave a haggard sigh. "You haven't even told Draco you have a portkey."
"I'll tell him, I will. I just need to find the right moment."
"The right moment?" She laughed. "Honestly, you're not asking him to Slughorn's Christmas party, you're just giving him a portkey." He didn't respond to her then. She eyed him warily, and then pointed her quill accusingly in his direction. "Don't even think about it, Potter. You haven't spoken to him in weeks. And think about how it would look - Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy attending a Christmas party? Voldemort wouldn't need to use Legilimens on Draco, every student would be talking about it. You can't invite Draco."
Harry scoffed. "Well, maybe if you hadn't stupidly gone and invited McLaggen, then we could've gone together as friends."
He packed up his belongings, stuffed them into his bookbag and left the library, feeling apologetic for his outburst but still sour for his current situation. Ron wouldn't attend the party with him because Hermione would be there, and Draco couldn't because the Slytherins would find out, compromising his safety.
He could invite Seamus or Dean, but then, the two were so quarrelsome lately. Ever since the events with the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match, and Parkinson attacking Seamus, the two would either argue with one another or about one another. Bad enough I have to deal with Hermione and Ron, he thought. I'm not dealing with Seamus and Dean as well.
Harry started heading for the Transfiguration Courtyard, feeling the need for fresh air. As he headed down the Grand Staircase, though, he caught sight of Cho Chang racing up the steps from the third floor. She had tears running down her face.
"Cho? What's wrong?" he called out.
She sniffed as she managed the final steps to stand alongside him on the forth floor. "It's Michael. He...he said he needed space. Said we can't be together because his abilities keep getting in the way. He can't stop gossiping."
"Yeah. That's pretty awful." Harry couldn't sympathise much. Corner had saved Harry from going to Slughorn's Christmas party with a fellow Ravenclaw who only wanted the publicity of being seen with Harry, but he had also gossiped about Harry, too.
"Michael keeps telling his friends about me. He told them I still have nightmares about Cedric." She sobbed again, and wiped her eyes. "I told him that in private. I can't help having nightmares."
"Of course you can't. I have them, Cho," Harry admitted. "About Cedric." He still occasionally had them about Cedric; the event had only been two years ago, that day in the graveyard.
"Oh. I never thought about you having them. Thank you for telling me." She smiled grimly. "It's nice to know I'm not the only one who still has nightmares."
"Do you want to come to Slughorn's Christmas party with me?" Harry asked. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He didn't even sound like himself; he had been far less confident around Cho in his forth year.
"Slughorn's party? Are you sure, Harry?"
"As...as friends, I mean." He was keen on making his intentions clear. "We could catch up. Umm...talk about classes and quidditch, if you want? I mean, the Slytherin versus Ravenclaw match is soon. Do you think your House stands a chance?"
Cho smiled a little. "Maybe. I'm a much better Seeker this year. Harper is new, I doubt he'll be able to keep up with me."
"Yeah, exactly." Harry grinned. "So, I'll meet you in the Great Hall at eight o'clock tomorrow night, then?"
She nodded.
Someone started laughing overheard. Harry looked up. Peeves was hanging in the air above, cackling, swooping, and swinging his legs. "Potty asked Chang to go to the paaaarty! Chang is cheating on Corner! Chang is a Cheater! Chang is a Cheater!"
"Knock it off, Peeves. We're just friends!" Harry shouted. The poltergeist laughed again, and then flew upwards, leaving them alone once more. Harry turned back to Cho. "It'll just be as friends, ignore him. I'm...umm, I'm interested in someone else, anyway."
Cho eyed him dubiously. "Why aren't you inviting them to the party, then?"
"Because I'm afraid they'll say no."
He was afraid Draco would've dismissed him. Even if the Slytherin's safety wasn't an issue, Draco and he weren't on speaking terms at the moment. And it was Harry's fault.
"Oh. All right, Harry," Cho replied, sounding less suspicious. "I'll meet you tomorrow night."
"Brilliant! That's brilliant."