The Other Side of the Mirror
Year One
Chapter Three
-Potions and Flying -
As the Slytherin first-years followed the prefect down the stairs to their dungeon common room, Draco looked around at the glistening walls that had surrounded them for most of the trip. What a dreary place. I hope our common room is a little brighter, and warmer, Draco thought, rubbing his arms. So far so good. I've made friends with at least a few people, but I wonder about the sleeping arrangements. What if I'm put in a room full of strangers? Oh, I hope that I'm with Crabbe and Goyle. That would at least make it bearable. And classes. They start tomorrow. I just know I'm going to be in the library forever, looking up all the information. I suppose I'll just have to do my best, just as my mother said. I just hope I can please my father.
They stopped, bringing Draco from his thoughts. Ahead, he heard something say, "Password?"
Then the prefect said, "Pure-blood," and Draco heard a grinding noise as the wall in front of them slid open. Pure-blood; good password, Draco thought with a smile.
They began moving again and walked through a small hall and around a corner, entering their common room. The common room was indeed warmer and better lit. There were green lamps placed around and hanging from the arched ceiling that gave off eerie greenish-yellowish light. They walked down several marble stairs and Draco looked down at the plush carpet beneath his feet. He looked up to see tall, slender, Gothic arches, a blue, glowing surface in between each of the four arches. Off to the left was a huge, marble fireplace where a fire burned heartedly. To the right was an area pushed back into the wall with tables and comfortable looking chairs in it. "You'll find all your belongings have already been brought up. Boys dormitory is up the stairs to the right, girls the same on the left," the prefect said. As the students walked broke off in groups, Draco walked over to the pushed back area. Above this area was a balcony that looked out over the common room. In the back, there were four more of the arches with the glowing blue surface in between them lighting up the area with a bluish glow, and staircases led up to the right and left to their rooms. Draco turned, looking around the room. In front of the fire there were two large, black, leather, comfortable looking couches, facing each other. Several dark green plush chairs were set up around the common room. Tables sat around with chairs lined up to them. The walls were covered in mahogany bookshelves. Draco followed several Slytherins up the stairs to their dormitories. When they reached the balcony, Draco walked up the railing, looking around at the huge common room. Very nice. Just like home. "Oy! Draco!" Draco turned to see Brandon standing behind him. Brandon walked up to stand next to Draco, placing his hands on the rail. "Wicked, isn't it?" Brandon asked, smiling. Draco nodded. "Comfortable, at least. Thankfully it's warmer than those corridors that we were walking through! I thought I was going to freeze to death." Brandon laughed. "I know what you mean, but I suppose that's why it's called the dungeons." Draco shrugged, looking down at the groups of older Slytherins that were talking amongst themselves. He spotted Marcus standing off to one side, talking with two older boys. "That's the captain of our house team," Draco said, pointing to Marcus. Brandon looked to where Draco was pointing. "He looks nice enough." Brandon grinned. "I can't wait until Quidditch season starts!" "Me neither. I've been playing Quidditch all of my life, so I think I'll have a chance at the team," Draco said hopefully.
"Well, they say that it's really tough to get on the team your first year, but if you're good enough, I suppose you'd have a chance." "I'm good enough, but even that might not be enough if someone betters me," Draco said sulkily. "You never know until you try," Brandon said, smiling. "I suppose," Draco said, shrugging. "I'm going to bed. You coming?" "Why not, there's not much to do right now anyway, and we'll probably need all the sleep we can get if we get the workload I think we're going to get." Draco didn't reply. Instead, he turned away from the railing and walked to the boy's dormitory. He found his room easily enough, since Crabbe and Goyle came running out to meet him. They showed him their room. To Draco's pleasure, Brandon was rooming with them also. Mumbling a quick, "Good-night," Draco slipped into his pajamas and crawled into his large four-poster bed. He shut the drapes and pulled the covers up to his chin, closing his eyes. I hope tomorrow goes well, he thought before falling into a deep sleep. ~ ~ ~ After breakfast, the homework began piling up. They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of all the different stars and the movement of the planets. Three times a week, they were out in the greenhouses for Herbology, taught by a short witch named Professor Sprout. Thankfully, that class they shared with the Ravenclaws. The class that really hit sub-zero, and probably lower if at all possible, was History of Magic, which was taught by Professor Binns, the only ghost teacher. They shared this class with the Ravenclaws, also. Draco nearly fell asleep several times, but, remembering that he was supposed to get top grades, he forced his eyes open and scribbled down all the names and dates that Professor Binns was reciting in monotone. During Charms, all the first-years from all four houses shared the class. Draco sat up front with Crabbe and Goyle. Across from them, much to his dismay, sat three rows of Gryffindors, including Potter, Granger, and Weasley. Draco ignored them for the most part. Professor Flitwick, easily the smallest person in the entire school, stood on a pile of books to see over his desk. When he reached Potter's name in the roll call, he squeaked and fell off the tower of books, vanishing behind them. Draco just rolled his eyes and waiting until the professor had climbed back up onto the tower. Transfiguration was one of Draco's more interesting classes and they shared it with all four houses. Professor McGonagall allowed no nonsense in her classroom. Although she was the head of Gryffindor, she was a fair teacher. Draco sat up front in the middle, next to Goyle. Granger and a Hufflepuff sat behind them. At the beginning of class, she came out straight forward, "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." Draco nodded, smiling. He glanced at Weasley, who was sitting to Draco's left and back a few rows, next to Potter. No matter what Weasley does, he's sure to mess up, Draco thought with a smile. Draco watched in interest as Professor McGonagall transfigured her desk into a pig, and then back again. I can't wait until I can do some of that! Draco thought happily. Of course, they didn't get to try any transfiguring until the end of class, when, after taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and told to try to transfigure it into a needle. Draco stared at his match, pointing his wand at it. "Come on, you stupid thing. Change." Nothing happened. He sat back, glaring at it. He glanced at Goyle, who was busy shaking his wand at his match, to no avail. Suddenly he heard a slight "pop!" from behind him and turned to see Granger looking at her transfigured match. She was smiling and waving her hand in the air. "Professor! I've done it!" she cried. Draco just glared at her. How come she could do it and I can't? Am I that daft? Professor McGonagall walked over and picked up the needle, giving Granger one of her rare smiles. "Very good, Ms. Granger. You see class, how this needle is completely silver and pointy, very much unlike the match it used to look like. Ten points to Gryffindor," she said, setting the match down. Draco just glared and Granger looked back at him smugly. He turned around and sulked. That stupid Mudlbood. How dare she look at me like that! I'm a pure-blood! I should be able to transfigure one ruddy match! If my father finds out that a Mudblood bested me, I'm done for. Defense Against the Dark Arts, which he had been looking forward to, proved to be rather dull. Professor Quirrel taught it, and Draco had a feeling he really didn't know what he was talking about. His lessons were a joke and there was a strong smell of garlic in the air, which Draco found to be rather disgusting. When asked about his turban, he said that an African prince had given it to him as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but Draco didn't believe him for a second. When one of the Gryffindors asked him out he fought off the zombie, Quirrel turned red and began talking nonsense about the weather. Draco just rolled his eyes and scribbled on his parchment, completely bored. Friday didn't come quickly enough, in Draco's opinion, and the reason was Potions. The head of their house, Professor Snape, would be teaching it and Draco knew that Snape wouldn't let the Gryffindors get away with anything, especially Potter, who seemed to be able to do nothing wrong in all the other professors' eyes. The only downside was that it was in the dungeons and it was very cold. Draco sat up at the front between Crabbe and Brandon. Goyle was sitting on the other side of Crabbe. Behind them sat a row of Gryffindors, including Potter, Weasley, and Granger. At the beginning of class, Professor Snape read through roll call, pausing at Potter's name. "Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity," Draco sniggered quietly. If Potter thought being famous was going to get him through school, he's in for a rude awakening. At least this professor won't let him slide. More fair to the rest of us. When Snape finished roll call, he looked around at them. Draco looked up at him intently, liking the professor more each minute. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly shimmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death." Draco's eyes widened. Wicked! "If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." Complete silence followed Snape's speech and Draco couldn't wait to get started. Snape looked at Draco, giving him a slight smile. Draco smiled back. Finally, a professor on our side. Suddenly Snape snapped his head to look behind Draco. "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Sleeping draught, Draco thought, smiling, proud that he knew something right off the start. "I don't know, sir," Draco heard Harry say behind him. Draco watched as Snape sneered. "Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" "I don't know, sir." Draco laughed silently, Crabbe and Goyle along with him. He could feel his shoulders shake with the effort of keeping his laughter silent. How hard is it to know that? Every decent wizard knows this stuff. I suppose Potter isn't as bright as everyone seems to think, if he doesn't even know basic stuff like this. Draco glanced back at Harry, who was looking very embarrassed. Granger was waving her hand in the air wildly, as if she was trying to flag down something. Draco just rolled his eyes, turning back to the front, where Snape was standing. "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Snape asked. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" "I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" Harry said quietly. Draco sniggered. It's the same thing, Potter! Even you should be able to remember that! Draco glanced back and saw that Granger was actually standing, her hand so high that it nearly reached the ceiling. He rolled his eyes. What does she do for fun? Read more dusty books? "Sit down," Snape snapped. Draco looked back to the professor. "For your information, Potter, 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, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well?" he asked, looking around. "Why aren't you all copying that down?" Draco quickly pulled out his parchment and quills and began writing down what Snape had just told them. "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." Draco smiled and kept scribbling. The remainder of Potions, they were paired off. Draco was paired off with Brandon. The cauldron in front of them had a lit fire under it already, so that part was done. They were supposed to be mixing up a simple potion to cure boils, something Draco was bound to prove himself in. He just had to get this right; he had to prove that he was better than a Mudblood. Draco set to crushing the snake fangs in front of him, grinding them into tiny pieces, while Brandon weighed the dried nettles that they had been given. A jar of horned slugs sat between them, which they would have to stew before adding their other ingredients. After crushing the snake fangs, Draco picked up the jar of horned slugs and put them into the boiling cauldron. He began stirring it and was pleased when Snape walked over to him, inspecting his cauldron and said, "Well done Mr. Malfoy. See here, everyone, how Mr. Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs. The perfect consistency." Draco grinned and suddenly a cloud of acid green smoke and a loud hissing noise filled the dungeon. Draco felt a slight burning in the soles of his shoes and immediately leapt up onto his stool, looking around. Behind him, Longbottom had melted his partner's cauldron, and the potion was seeping across the dungeon floor. Longbottom had been drenched in the potion and was moaning in pain as angry red boils popped up all over his skin. Draco rolled his eyes. How daft can you get? It's a simple potion! Then Draco winced. Has to hurt, though. But honestly, if he had done it correctly in the first place, it wouldn't have happened. "Idiot boy!" Draco heard Snape snarl. Draco looked at Snape, who cleared the potion away with a wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" Snape shook his head and looked at Longbottom's partner. "Take him up to the hospital wing." Then he turned on Potter and Weasley. Draco watched this smugly. "You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor." Draco laughed silently and sat down on his stool. He and Brandon began working on the final parts of their potion. ~ ~ ~
On the way to dinner, Draco walked with a large group of Slytherins. "You know, I just don't think it's fair that first-years never get on the house teams. I mean, what if we're good enough!" Draco complained loudly. "Exactly," Terrace, a burly first-year, agree. "Most of us have been flying around all of our lives, and we should be good enough."
"Well, I've been playing Quidditch forever, so I think that should count for something," Draco said, as they passed by a group of Gryffindors, who were heading for dinner. They began walking behind the Slytherins.
"Oh well, I suppose that'll never change," Tawny, a tall brown-haired first- year, said. She shook her head. "My mum said that there hasn't been a first-year on the house team for almost a century!"
Draco nodded. "You know, if they won't let us on the house team, why don't they let us have our own broomsticks? Then we could at least fly around and not be stuck on the ground all the time."
"We're not old enough," Tawny said. "That's what my mum says. She won't let me have my own broomstick until I make the house team, which is never going to happen."
"Well, to lighten up the mood here," Draco said loudly, so all the group could hear, "I should tell you this story about something that happened to me a few years ago. We have this old Comet Two-Sixty, which is another reason why I want a new broom, and I was flying it around, playing a game of Quidditch with a few friends, when one of them threw the Quaffle too far and it went out of our boundaries."
Terrace's eyes went wide. "You mean where Muggles could see?"
Draco nodded. "Exactly. So, of course, I had to go get it because if father ever found out that we had let a Quaffle into the Muggle world, then I'd never be allowed on a broomstick again. So I flew after it and I had just caught it when a Muggle helicopter flew right by me! I was so surprised that I nearly fell of my broom."
"Did they see you?" Tawny asked.
"I don't think so, because nothing ever appeared in the Daily Prophet, but it was a close call. I flew home so fast, I thought my broom was going to collapse!"
"Blimey, you're lucky you made it!" Terrace commented.
Draco nodded. "Tell me about it."
"That's wicked, though!" a first-year commented.
Draco smiled. "Thanks."
~ ~ ~ That evening, in the common room, Draco sat down at one of the tables near the fireplace, and began working on their History of Magic homework. They had to write an essay on Uric the Oddball and it was due Monday. Draco wanted to get it done now so he would have time to relax over the weekend. Crabbe and Goyle, who loathed anything to do with homework, were busily eating sweets and making loud jokes over in a corner. Draco knew that they would be running to him Sunday night, asking to copy his essay. Draco shut them out and focused on his essay. He opened his A History of Magic book and began flipping through the pages until he came across the section on Uric the Oddball. Uric the Oddball is known to have slept in a room containing no fewer than fifty pet Augureys. During one particularly wet winter, Uric became convinced by the moaning of his Augureys that he had died and was now a ghost. His subsequent attempts to walk through the walls of his house resulted in a concussion of ten days' duration. It is also said that he once attempted to prove that Fwooper song was actually beneficial to the health and listened to it for three months on end without a break. Unfortunately the Wizard's' Council to which he reported his findings were unconvinced, as he had arrived at the meeting wearing nothing but a toupee that on closer inspection proved to be a dead badger. Draco wrote the information down, thinking, He was rather odd, wasn't he? "Oh, Draco," a sing-song voice called. Draco groaned. "What do you want Pansy?" he grumbled. "Just to see how you were doing with all that hard work," she said, draping her arms on his shoulders. "Get off of me," he growled, shrugging off her arms. "That's not a very nice way to treat one of your friends," she said, sitting down in the chair next to him. She gave him a sad-eye look. Draco rolled his eyes. "Just leave me alone. If you noticed, I'm trying to get this essay done and I was doing rather well until you came along and bothered me. Now go away!" Draco turned and looked back at his essay, scribbling some more on his parchment. I bet Granger finished this the day it was assigned and she probably didn't have any trouble. I wish I was smarter. Draco looked up from his parchment, realizing that Pansy was still sitting next to him, watching intently. He sighed. "Why are you still here? I told you to go away." "But I like watching you work. Your forehead gets all scrunched up when you are thinking and it's so -" "I said, go away!" Draco shouted. "I can't concentrate with you staring at me like that and making nonsense comments!" Pansy backed up a bit, her eyes wide. Then she pouted. "Why aren't you nice to me anymore?" "Because, Pansy, you've grown rather annoying as of late and I'm getting tired of it, okay? So, if you could please go and find someone else to bother, I'm busy." Draco picked up his book and began flipping through the pages so that she would understand that their conversation was over. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stand and walk away. Finally! he thought in relief. He rubbed his forehead. This essay was not going to be as easy as he had thought. They were expected to write an entire foot on it, and he had only found enough information to fill half. Why can't I write? All Malfoys have done well in school, and easily at that. I'm probably the only brainless one in the bunch. I just wish I weren't so daft! ~ ~ ~
Draco and Brandon walked down one of the corridors that lined the edge of the inner courtyard, Crabbe and Goyle following behind. It was a nice Saturday morning, and so they were heading to one of the courtyards where there were several benches, to work on their Charms homework. They had learned the basic ones but now they needed to write a short bit about each one and examples of situations where they would come in handy. Also, they had Herbology homework to finish. They had to pick out a plant from their notes on Friday and write about it. They would probably be working on that Sunday night in the library, where they could look up more information about their plants.
"So, you're trying out for Quidditch, right?" Brandon asked as they walked.
Draco glanced back at Crabbe and Goyle, who were still following them. "You know, we're not going to the courtyard for anything fun. We're doing homework." At that, Crabbe and Goyle both gave him a wide-eyed expression and turned down another corridor. Easiest way to get rid of them when I want to do something productive. Anything dealing with homework, and they flee like its poison! Draco chuckled softly and looked at Brandon. "Oh, I'm trying out, that's for sure. Like I said last night, I've been playing Quidditch all of my life and unlike some," Draco said as Weasley and Potter passed them, "I can actually stay on my broom. My father says that I should be able to make it, even though the competition is tough."
Brandon nodded. "I know what you mean. I've played Quidditch a lot with my older brothers, but I don't even know if that's going to be good enough for the team."
Draco nodded. "That's what I'm worried about. I know my father expects me to be able to do everything easily, but I don't think he realizes that that's just not possible."
"I know," Brandon said. "My father's the same way. He expects the impossible, and when I don't measure up to his standards, he gets angry."
Draco smiled. "That makes two of us, but, although my father is strict, he's brilliant. He's just trying to make me a better person and if I can manage to excel in a lot of things, then maybe I can become just as good as he is."
"My father talks about yours all the time; holds him up like a god, he does. 'Mr. Malfoy is exactly the man that you want to become, son. Be like him, and everything will work out easily.' That's what my father always says."
They passed through a group of students and entered one of the side courtyards. They walked over to where two benches sat facing each other, and took out their Charms books, parchment, quills, and ink. Draco sprawled himself on his stomach on one of the benches, his plain black cloak falling over the sides. He rolled up the sleeves of dark gray turtleneck, and began writing. Brandon laid down on the other bench, doing the same. The sun felt good and a slight breeze passed over Draco's face, skimming his slicked back hair. That was another thing that his father had been adamant about; Draco was to always look good, no matter where he was, or what he was doing.
~ ~ ~
A few hours later, the sun began to set, and they had to pack up their things. Crabbe and Goyle had come by twice, seeing if they wanted to try some of the sweets that they had received from their parents. Draco had taken a pack of Cauldron Cakes, and that had lasted him through the rest of his homework. Crabbe and Goyle had waited around for awhile, but, seeing that Draco and Brandon weren't near the finish, they had left.
Draco was sprawled out on one of the black leather couches in the common room, his eyes closed, when Crabbe and Goyle came in. "Oy! Draco! What are you doing?"
Draco opened on eye to see them standing over him, looking down. "I was sleeping, until you two came and woke me up." Draco sat up, opening both of his eyes. He looked at Goyle's bandaged hand. "What happened?"
"Book bit me."
Draco quirked an eyebrow. "What?"
"I was looking at Sam's book and I guess I did something wrong because it bit me. It hurt too," Goyle said, wincing.
"So that's where you've been? In the hospital wing?" Crabbe and Goyle nodded.
"We couldn't find you, so we just went there," Crabbe said.
Draco shrugged. "Madame Pomfrey knows what she's doing. You'll be fine now, in any case." He looked at them, raising his eyebrows. "Well, don't just stand there. You can sit down."
They sat down and pulled out some sweets. Goyle held out a pack of opened Licorice Wands to Draco, who pulled a couple out. He bit into them. "Not bad."
"Did you do your essay on Uric the Oddball?" Crabbe asked.
"Yes, Crabbe," Draco said, sighing. "And yes, you can copy it later."
"Thanks!" Crabbe said, grinning.
"Me too?" Goyle asked.
Draco shrugged. "I don't care."
"Oy! Draco!" Draco looked over his shoulder as Jeff, a tall black-haired first-year, walked over to him.
"What?"
"Brandon told me that you're going to make the house team!" Jeff said excitedly.
Draco rolled his eyes. "I haven't made anything yet, Jeff. And it'll probably never happen." He smiled. "But it would be nice."
"He told me that you've been playing Quidditch all of your life! That's wicked!"
Draco shrugged. "I'm good," he admitted. He raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you played Quidditch before?"
"Oh yeah," Jeff said, shrugging. "But not as long as you. My dad wouldn't let me near a broom until two years ago. He didn't trust me with them after I accidentally flew my broom into the manor. I couldn't help it, really, the broom was so old! It just didn't want to cooperate. But," Jeff said, grinning, "my dad said that if I made the Quidditch team, he would buy me a Nimbus Two-Thousand!"
Draco grinned. "I want one of those so badly, but my father hasn't bought me one yet. Hopefully over Christmas I'll get one. They're wicked fast and I can't wait to fly one."
"Me neither," Jeff said, still grinning. "We'll see in about two weeks. After Halloween, the first match will be held. Even if I don't get to play, I can't wait to see the match! I heard it's going to be against Gryffindor."
Draco grinned. "Wouldn't that be nice if we could beat them? Then they wouldn't be too cocky anymore."
Jeff nodded. "Flying Lessons begin next week. I wonder who we'll get paired up with?"
Draco shrugged. "As long as it's not Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, I think I'll manage."
Jeff nodded. "Definitely."
~ ~ ~
Much to Draco's dismay, however, they were paired up with Gryffindor. That Thursday, a notice had been placed in their common room and all the Slytherin first-year were groaning loudly. "Why does it have to be Gryffindor?" one of them complained.
"Gryffindor hates us!" Pansy cried.
"It's not just them; everyone hates us!" another replied.
"They hate us the most though!"
Draco pushed past the group of Slytherins that were crowded around the posting, and headed to breakfast, Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
They sat down in their usual places underneath the large windows, and began eating. "I wonder what our Flying Lesson is going to be like," Goyle said, through a mouthful of sausage.
"As long as you can stay on your broom, I don't think it matter," Draco said. "Especially since we're paired up with Gryffindor. We don't want to be going and making fools of ourselves in front of them."
"I know," Brandon, who was sitting across from them, agreed. Terrace and Tawny were sitting next to Brandon.
"Well, we know for sure that one Gryffindor will make a fool of himself," Terrace said.
"Enlighten us," Draco said, smiling.
"Longbottom."
Draco laughed. "Good one Terrace. I don't think Longbottom could hold his broomstick, much less fly on it."
"What about Harry Potter?" Tawny asked.
Draco sneered. "Potter? He grew up with Muggles. What's he going to know about brooms? I wouldn't be surprised if he fell off of his too."
"He grew up with Muggles?" Terrace asked.
Draco nodded. "That's what I heard. My father told me that Potter had been living with Muggles all of his life, since his parents had been killed when You-Know-Who found them. And I bet he doesn't know a thing about Quidditch. I don't think he'd even know a Bludger if it hit him square in the face!" Draco said, laughing.
Terrace, Tawny, and Brandon laughed along with him. "That would be funny," Brandon said.
"Mail's here!" Crabbe called. Draco looked up to see the usual fleet of owls flying down from the openings in the ceiling. Draco spotted Mabol flying towards him, a package clutched in her talons. She dropped it off and Draco caught it.
"What'd you get?" Terrace asked.
Draco opened the letter that was attached.
Dear Draco,
I hope this tides you over for a bit. Inside are some of your favorite foods and sweets that I thought you might enjoy. How is school coming along? Are you making friends? I know you were so worried. Be sure to tell me what happens at Quidditch tryouts; your father is as anxious as I am to find out. I know that first-years don't usually make the house teams, but I think you are good enough. Good luck!
Love, Mother
Draco smiled. "My mother sent me a package."
"Food?" Goyle asked.
Draco sighed. "Yes, Goyle, and yes, you can have some."
"Thanks!" Goyle cried, grinning.
Crabbe opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off. "You can have some too, Crabbe."
Crabbe smiled. "Wicked!"
"I'm going to take this back to the common room and get my books. Coming?" Draco asked. Crabbe and Goyle nodded, stuffing some more food into their mouths. They stood.
They were walking up the center aisle, past the Gryffindor table, when Draco spotted something in front of Longbottom. A Remembrall! I've never actually seen one of those up close!
"It's a Remembrall!" Longbottom said. "Gran knows I forget things - this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it right like this and if it turns red - oh . . ." Longbottom held up the Remembrall as it glowed scarlet. ". . .you've forgotten something . . . The problem is, I don't remember what I've forgotten," Longbottom said, thinking.
Draco took the Remembrall from Longbottom's hand, looking at it. Wicked. Draco looked up abruptly as Potter and Weasley jumped up, glaring at Draco. Draco raised an eyebrow. What are they going to do, fight me? Then Draco spotted Professor McGonagall walking over to them. Draco's eyes widenend.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor," Longbottom whined.
Draco scowled at Longbottom, dropping it back onto the table. "I was just looking," he grumbled and walked away. What was their problem? I was just looking? It wasn't like I was going to take it! Can't someone just look at something, or is it against the law?
~ ~ ~
That afternoon, after a day indoors, they finally were released outside for their first Flying Lesson. The Slytherins walked out together, down the sloping lawns towards a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, where the trees were swaying darkly in the distance. Twenty broomsticks were lying on the ground. The cool breeze swept across Draco's face, moving his cloak, as they walked. It was a cool, breezy day, and Draco enjoyed the fresh air.
They stood in a group, near the broomsticks, waiting for the Gryffindors to arrive. Draco straightened his green and silver tie and fixed the clasp on the front of his robe, the embroidered silver on his Slytherin badge lighting up in the sun. Draco glanced over to where their professor, Madame Hooch, was standing. She was a tall witch, with short gray hair and yellow eyes like a hawk. Draco smiled. She doesn't look to bad. Maybe this class will be more fun that I had originally thought.
The soft thud of footsteps brought Draco from his thoughts, as the Gryffindors arrived, taking their places near the brooms. The Slytherins took their places on the opposite side, some glaring at the Gryffindors. Potter, Weasley, and Granger were standing across from Draco, but he just ignored them, looking at their professor.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Madame Hooch asked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up." They stepped to the left of their broomsticks. "Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'UP!"
"UP!" everyone shouted.
Draco watched as Potter's broomstick immediately leapt into his hand. Draco looked at him curiously, shouting, "UP!" His broomstick leapt into his hand. How had Potter manage to do that?
"UP!" Draco heard Weasley call and laughed when the broomstick handle flew up to hit him squarely in the face. Potter was laughing too. "Shut up, Harry," Weasley said, rubbing his face.
Draco just shook his head and looked around at the rest of the students. Many of them were having trouble, and much to Draco's pleasure, Granger's broom just rolled around on the ground. Not so perfect, are we? He thought, grinning. Crabbe and Goyle finally managed to get their brooms into their hands and once everyone had their brooms, Madame Hooch had them mount them.
She walked by, checking their handgrips. She stopped in front of Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, your hands should be placed like this," she said, correcting his grip. "It seems that you have been doing it wrong for years. Well, no matter, that can be fixed." She gave him a small smile and walked to the next student. Potter and Weasley were laughing at him and Draco glared darkly at them. What was their problem? Did they have to laugh at everything I do wrong? Weasley couldn't even get his broom up, so he has no right to be laughing. And Potter, what has he got against me? He's a horrible, stuck-up prat, and he has no right to laugh because he didn't even grow up with a proper family.
"Now, when I blow my whistle," Madame Hooch said, bringing Draco from his thoughts, "you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"
Draco watched, his eyes wide, as Longbottom pushed off too soon and was rising upwards, fast. "Come back, boy!" Madame Hooch shouted. The look on Longbottom's face made Draco snicker quietly. Longbottom, his face pure- white, was looking down at the ground, terrified. I know I shouldn't laugh, but it is rather funny. I mean, even I'm not that stupid to take off before she blew her whistle!
Suddenly Longbottom fell off his broom, landing with a loud 'THUD!', face down in the grass. His broomstick, meanwhile, had taken a mind of its own, and was now heading into the Forbidden Forest.
Madame Hooch rushed over to Longbottom, kneeling next to him. She held his wrist tenderly, her face white. "Broken wrist," she muttered. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get." She helped Longbottom to his feet, still holding his wrist. He was white as a sheet and trembling. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."
As soon as Madame Hooch had left, Draco let loose his laughter, shaking his head. A bunch of the Slytherins around him were laughing as well. "Did you see his face, the great lump?" Draco asked, shaking with laughter.
"Shut up, Malfoy," one of the Gryffindors snapped.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" asked Pansy. Draco smiled. At least she would always stand by him; that was good. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry-babies, Parvati."
Draco looked at the grass and spotted Longbottom's Remembrall. "Look!" he said, bending down and picking it up. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." Draco held it up for the rest of the Slytherins to see, who were snickering.
"Give that here, Malfoy," Potter said, stepping forward.
Draco looked at him and sneered. Everyone was quiet around them. "No, I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?"
"Give it here!" Potter yelled, but Draco was too quick. He leapt onto his broom and glided through the group of students, hovering in the air above their heads. He tossed the Remembrall up, catching it, looking down at Potter with a smile on his face.
"What's the matter, Potter? A bit beyond your reach?"
Draco watched in satisfaction as Potter reached for his broom. Granger grabbed him, saying something, but Potter ignored her, mounting his broom, and taking off. He turned the broomstick to face Draco. Draco's eyes went wide. Where had Potter learned to fly like that?
"Give it here, Malfoy, or I'll knock you off that broom!" Potter yelled.
Draco regained his composure, putting on a confident face. "Is that so?" Draco said, sneering. Could he really do it? Draco thought worriedly. Suddenly Potter shot forward, and Draco spun around his broom. When he had righted himself, he looked at Potter, very worried now. Potter could easily knock me off of here!
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Potter said.
Draco sneered at him, trying to cover the slight fear that clutched him inside. "Have it your way then!" Draco called and heaved the Remembrall towards the woods. Draco watched, stunned, as Potter shot past him, after the Remembrall. Draco brought his broom back onto the ground and stood next to Crabbe and Goyle, watching as Potter dove after the ball. Draco's eyes went wide as Potter snatched the ball out of the air, toppling the few feet to the grass.
"HARRY POTTER!" Draco looked to see Professor McGonagall running towards them. Draco smirked. Potter was going to get it now. Even his fame won't save him this time.
Potter stood, still holding the ball in his fist. "Never - in all my time at Hogwarts - how dare you - might have broken your neck -"
"It wasn't his fault, Professor -" Parvati said.
"Be quiet, Miss Patil -"
"But Mafloy -" Weasley began.
"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."
Draco smirked, watching as Potter followed McGonagall into the castle.
Madame Hooch came back out, looking at the crowd. "What happened?" she asked.
"Potter got in trouble with Professor McGonagall," Draco said simply. "He was flying his broomstick when he shouldn't have been."
Madame Hooch shook her head. "Well, Professor McGonagall will take care of that, I am sure." A bell sounded in the distance. "Well, you'd had better head back to your common rooms. Dinner will be served shortly."
Draco walked beside Crabbe and Goyle; Pansy, Terrace, Brandon, and Tawny following behind. "What an idiot, diving after that Remembrall," Draco said, laughing, trying to conceal a twinge of nervousness inside him. Potter can fly, there's no doubt about that. But how?
"He wouldn't have done that if you hadn't provoked him, Malfoy," a Gryffindor said as the lot of them walked by.
Draco just rolled his eyes.
"Potter's in for it now," Pansy said, smirking.
"The Famous Harry Potter, already in trouble," Brandon said, laughing. "Professor Snape was right. Fame isn't everything."
"Yeah," Draco said, laughing, but he was still shaken from the encounter with Potter.
Year One
Chapter Three
-Potions and Flying -
As the Slytherin first-years followed the prefect down the stairs to their dungeon common room, Draco looked around at the glistening walls that had surrounded them for most of the trip. What a dreary place. I hope our common room is a little brighter, and warmer, Draco thought, rubbing his arms. So far so good. I've made friends with at least a few people, but I wonder about the sleeping arrangements. What if I'm put in a room full of strangers? Oh, I hope that I'm with Crabbe and Goyle. That would at least make it bearable. And classes. They start tomorrow. I just know I'm going to be in the library forever, looking up all the information. I suppose I'll just have to do my best, just as my mother said. I just hope I can please my father.
They stopped, bringing Draco from his thoughts. Ahead, he heard something say, "Password?"
Then the prefect said, "Pure-blood," and Draco heard a grinding noise as the wall in front of them slid open. Pure-blood; good password, Draco thought with a smile.
They began moving again and walked through a small hall and around a corner, entering their common room. The common room was indeed warmer and better lit. There were green lamps placed around and hanging from the arched ceiling that gave off eerie greenish-yellowish light. They walked down several marble stairs and Draco looked down at the plush carpet beneath his feet. He looked up to see tall, slender, Gothic arches, a blue, glowing surface in between each of the four arches. Off to the left was a huge, marble fireplace where a fire burned heartedly. To the right was an area pushed back into the wall with tables and comfortable looking chairs in it. "You'll find all your belongings have already been brought up. Boys dormitory is up the stairs to the right, girls the same on the left," the prefect said. As the students walked broke off in groups, Draco walked over to the pushed back area. Above this area was a balcony that looked out over the common room. In the back, there were four more of the arches with the glowing blue surface in between them lighting up the area with a bluish glow, and staircases led up to the right and left to their rooms. Draco turned, looking around the room. In front of the fire there were two large, black, leather, comfortable looking couches, facing each other. Several dark green plush chairs were set up around the common room. Tables sat around with chairs lined up to them. The walls were covered in mahogany bookshelves. Draco followed several Slytherins up the stairs to their dormitories. When they reached the balcony, Draco walked up the railing, looking around at the huge common room. Very nice. Just like home. "Oy! Draco!" Draco turned to see Brandon standing behind him. Brandon walked up to stand next to Draco, placing his hands on the rail. "Wicked, isn't it?" Brandon asked, smiling. Draco nodded. "Comfortable, at least. Thankfully it's warmer than those corridors that we were walking through! I thought I was going to freeze to death." Brandon laughed. "I know what you mean, but I suppose that's why it's called the dungeons." Draco shrugged, looking down at the groups of older Slytherins that were talking amongst themselves. He spotted Marcus standing off to one side, talking with two older boys. "That's the captain of our house team," Draco said, pointing to Marcus. Brandon looked to where Draco was pointing. "He looks nice enough." Brandon grinned. "I can't wait until Quidditch season starts!" "Me neither. I've been playing Quidditch all of my life, so I think I'll have a chance at the team," Draco said hopefully.
"Well, they say that it's really tough to get on the team your first year, but if you're good enough, I suppose you'd have a chance." "I'm good enough, but even that might not be enough if someone betters me," Draco said sulkily. "You never know until you try," Brandon said, smiling. "I suppose," Draco said, shrugging. "I'm going to bed. You coming?" "Why not, there's not much to do right now anyway, and we'll probably need all the sleep we can get if we get the workload I think we're going to get." Draco didn't reply. Instead, he turned away from the railing and walked to the boy's dormitory. He found his room easily enough, since Crabbe and Goyle came running out to meet him. They showed him their room. To Draco's pleasure, Brandon was rooming with them also. Mumbling a quick, "Good-night," Draco slipped into his pajamas and crawled into his large four-poster bed. He shut the drapes and pulled the covers up to his chin, closing his eyes. I hope tomorrow goes well, he thought before falling into a deep sleep. ~ ~ ~ After breakfast, the homework began piling up. They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of all the different stars and the movement of the planets. Three times a week, they were out in the greenhouses for Herbology, taught by a short witch named Professor Sprout. Thankfully, that class they shared with the Ravenclaws. The class that really hit sub-zero, and probably lower if at all possible, was History of Magic, which was taught by Professor Binns, the only ghost teacher. They shared this class with the Ravenclaws, also. Draco nearly fell asleep several times, but, remembering that he was supposed to get top grades, he forced his eyes open and scribbled down all the names and dates that Professor Binns was reciting in monotone. During Charms, all the first-years from all four houses shared the class. Draco sat up front with Crabbe and Goyle. Across from them, much to his dismay, sat three rows of Gryffindors, including Potter, Granger, and Weasley. Draco ignored them for the most part. Professor Flitwick, easily the smallest person in the entire school, stood on a pile of books to see over his desk. When he reached Potter's name in the roll call, he squeaked and fell off the tower of books, vanishing behind them. Draco just rolled his eyes and waiting until the professor had climbed back up onto the tower. Transfiguration was one of Draco's more interesting classes and they shared it with all four houses. Professor McGonagall allowed no nonsense in her classroom. Although she was the head of Gryffindor, she was a fair teacher. Draco sat up front in the middle, next to Goyle. Granger and a Hufflepuff sat behind them. At the beginning of class, she came out straight forward, "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." Draco nodded, smiling. He glanced at Weasley, who was sitting to Draco's left and back a few rows, next to Potter. No matter what Weasley does, he's sure to mess up, Draco thought with a smile. Draco watched in interest as Professor McGonagall transfigured her desk into a pig, and then back again. I can't wait until I can do some of that! Draco thought happily. Of course, they didn't get to try any transfiguring until the end of class, when, after taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and told to try to transfigure it into a needle. Draco stared at his match, pointing his wand at it. "Come on, you stupid thing. Change." Nothing happened. He sat back, glaring at it. He glanced at Goyle, who was busy shaking his wand at his match, to no avail. Suddenly he heard a slight "pop!" from behind him and turned to see Granger looking at her transfigured match. She was smiling and waving her hand in the air. "Professor! I've done it!" she cried. Draco just glared at her. How come she could do it and I can't? Am I that daft? Professor McGonagall walked over and picked up the needle, giving Granger one of her rare smiles. "Very good, Ms. Granger. You see class, how this needle is completely silver and pointy, very much unlike the match it used to look like. Ten points to Gryffindor," she said, setting the match down. Draco just glared and Granger looked back at him smugly. He turned around and sulked. That stupid Mudlbood. How dare she look at me like that! I'm a pure-blood! I should be able to transfigure one ruddy match! If my father finds out that a Mudblood bested me, I'm done for. Defense Against the Dark Arts, which he had been looking forward to, proved to be rather dull. Professor Quirrel taught it, and Draco had a feeling he really didn't know what he was talking about. His lessons were a joke and there was a strong smell of garlic in the air, which Draco found to be rather disgusting. When asked about his turban, he said that an African prince had given it to him as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but Draco didn't believe him for a second. When one of the Gryffindors asked him out he fought off the zombie, Quirrel turned red and began talking nonsense about the weather. Draco just rolled his eyes and scribbled on his parchment, completely bored. Friday didn't come quickly enough, in Draco's opinion, and the reason was Potions. The head of their house, Professor Snape, would be teaching it and Draco knew that Snape wouldn't let the Gryffindors get away with anything, especially Potter, who seemed to be able to do nothing wrong in all the other professors' eyes. The only downside was that it was in the dungeons and it was very cold. Draco sat up at the front between Crabbe and Brandon. Goyle was sitting on the other side of Crabbe. Behind them sat a row of Gryffindors, including Potter, Weasley, and Granger. At the beginning of class, Professor Snape read through roll call, pausing at Potter's name. "Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity," Draco sniggered quietly. If Potter thought being famous was going to get him through school, he's in for a rude awakening. At least this professor won't let him slide. More fair to the rest of us. When Snape finished roll call, he looked around at them. Draco looked up at him intently, liking the professor more each minute. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly shimmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death." Draco's eyes widened. Wicked! "If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." Complete silence followed Snape's speech and Draco couldn't wait to get started. Snape looked at Draco, giving him a slight smile. Draco smiled back. Finally, a professor on our side. Suddenly Snape snapped his head to look behind Draco. "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Sleeping draught, Draco thought, smiling, proud that he knew something right off the start. "I don't know, sir," Draco heard Harry say behind him. Draco watched as Snape sneered. "Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" "I don't know, sir." Draco laughed silently, Crabbe and Goyle along with him. He could feel his shoulders shake with the effort of keeping his laughter silent. How hard is it to know that? Every decent wizard knows this stuff. I suppose Potter isn't as bright as everyone seems to think, if he doesn't even know basic stuff like this. Draco glanced back at Harry, who was looking very embarrassed. Granger was waving her hand in the air wildly, as if she was trying to flag down something. Draco just rolled his eyes, turning back to the front, where Snape was standing. "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Snape asked. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" "I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" Harry said quietly. Draco sniggered. It's the same thing, Potter! Even you should be able to remember that! Draco glanced back and saw that Granger was actually standing, her hand so high that it nearly reached the ceiling. He rolled his eyes. What does she do for fun? Read more dusty books? "Sit down," Snape snapped. Draco looked back to the professor. "For your information, Potter, 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, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well?" he asked, looking around. "Why aren't you all copying that down?" Draco quickly pulled out his parchment and quills and began writing down what Snape had just told them. "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." Draco smiled and kept scribbling. The remainder of Potions, they were paired off. Draco was paired off with Brandon. The cauldron in front of them had a lit fire under it already, so that part was done. They were supposed to be mixing up a simple potion to cure boils, something Draco was bound to prove himself in. He just had to get this right; he had to prove that he was better than a Mudblood. Draco set to crushing the snake fangs in front of him, grinding them into tiny pieces, while Brandon weighed the dried nettles that they had been given. A jar of horned slugs sat between them, which they would have to stew before adding their other ingredients. After crushing the snake fangs, Draco picked up the jar of horned slugs and put them into the boiling cauldron. He began stirring it and was pleased when Snape walked over to him, inspecting his cauldron and said, "Well done Mr. Malfoy. See here, everyone, how Mr. Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs. The perfect consistency." Draco grinned and suddenly a cloud of acid green smoke and a loud hissing noise filled the dungeon. Draco felt a slight burning in the soles of his shoes and immediately leapt up onto his stool, looking around. Behind him, Longbottom had melted his partner's cauldron, and the potion was seeping across the dungeon floor. Longbottom had been drenched in the potion and was moaning in pain as angry red boils popped up all over his skin. Draco rolled his eyes. How daft can you get? It's a simple potion! Then Draco winced. Has to hurt, though. But honestly, if he had done it correctly in the first place, it wouldn't have happened. "Idiot boy!" Draco heard Snape snarl. Draco looked at Snape, who cleared the potion away with a wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" Snape shook his head and looked at Longbottom's partner. "Take him up to the hospital wing." Then he turned on Potter and Weasley. Draco watched this smugly. "You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor." Draco laughed silently and sat down on his stool. He and Brandon began working on the final parts of their potion. ~ ~ ~
On the way to dinner, Draco walked with a large group of Slytherins. "You know, I just don't think it's fair that first-years never get on the house teams. I mean, what if we're good enough!" Draco complained loudly. "Exactly," Terrace, a burly first-year, agree. "Most of us have been flying around all of our lives, and we should be good enough."
"Well, I've been playing Quidditch forever, so I think that should count for something," Draco said, as they passed by a group of Gryffindors, who were heading for dinner. They began walking behind the Slytherins.
"Oh well, I suppose that'll never change," Tawny, a tall brown-haired first- year, said. She shook her head. "My mum said that there hasn't been a first-year on the house team for almost a century!"
Draco nodded. "You know, if they won't let us on the house team, why don't they let us have our own broomsticks? Then we could at least fly around and not be stuck on the ground all the time."
"We're not old enough," Tawny said. "That's what my mum says. She won't let me have my own broomstick until I make the house team, which is never going to happen."
"Well, to lighten up the mood here," Draco said loudly, so all the group could hear, "I should tell you this story about something that happened to me a few years ago. We have this old Comet Two-Sixty, which is another reason why I want a new broom, and I was flying it around, playing a game of Quidditch with a few friends, when one of them threw the Quaffle too far and it went out of our boundaries."
Terrace's eyes went wide. "You mean where Muggles could see?"
Draco nodded. "Exactly. So, of course, I had to go get it because if father ever found out that we had let a Quaffle into the Muggle world, then I'd never be allowed on a broomstick again. So I flew after it and I had just caught it when a Muggle helicopter flew right by me! I was so surprised that I nearly fell of my broom."
"Did they see you?" Tawny asked.
"I don't think so, because nothing ever appeared in the Daily Prophet, but it was a close call. I flew home so fast, I thought my broom was going to collapse!"
"Blimey, you're lucky you made it!" Terrace commented.
Draco nodded. "Tell me about it."
"That's wicked, though!" a first-year commented.
Draco smiled. "Thanks."
~ ~ ~ That evening, in the common room, Draco sat down at one of the tables near the fireplace, and began working on their History of Magic homework. They had to write an essay on Uric the Oddball and it was due Monday. Draco wanted to get it done now so he would have time to relax over the weekend. Crabbe and Goyle, who loathed anything to do with homework, were busily eating sweets and making loud jokes over in a corner. Draco knew that they would be running to him Sunday night, asking to copy his essay. Draco shut them out and focused on his essay. He opened his A History of Magic book and began flipping through the pages until he came across the section on Uric the Oddball. Uric the Oddball is known to have slept in a room containing no fewer than fifty pet Augureys. During one particularly wet winter, Uric became convinced by the moaning of his Augureys that he had died and was now a ghost. His subsequent attempts to walk through the walls of his house resulted in a concussion of ten days' duration. It is also said that he once attempted to prove that Fwooper song was actually beneficial to the health and listened to it for three months on end without a break. Unfortunately the Wizard's' Council to which he reported his findings were unconvinced, as he had arrived at the meeting wearing nothing but a toupee that on closer inspection proved to be a dead badger. Draco wrote the information down, thinking, He was rather odd, wasn't he? "Oh, Draco," a sing-song voice called. Draco groaned. "What do you want Pansy?" he grumbled. "Just to see how you were doing with all that hard work," she said, draping her arms on his shoulders. "Get off of me," he growled, shrugging off her arms. "That's not a very nice way to treat one of your friends," she said, sitting down in the chair next to him. She gave him a sad-eye look. Draco rolled his eyes. "Just leave me alone. If you noticed, I'm trying to get this essay done and I was doing rather well until you came along and bothered me. Now go away!" Draco turned and looked back at his essay, scribbling some more on his parchment. I bet Granger finished this the day it was assigned and she probably didn't have any trouble. I wish I was smarter. Draco looked up from his parchment, realizing that Pansy was still sitting next to him, watching intently. He sighed. "Why are you still here? I told you to go away." "But I like watching you work. Your forehead gets all scrunched up when you are thinking and it's so -" "I said, go away!" Draco shouted. "I can't concentrate with you staring at me like that and making nonsense comments!" Pansy backed up a bit, her eyes wide. Then she pouted. "Why aren't you nice to me anymore?" "Because, Pansy, you've grown rather annoying as of late and I'm getting tired of it, okay? So, if you could please go and find someone else to bother, I'm busy." Draco picked up his book and began flipping through the pages so that she would understand that their conversation was over. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stand and walk away. Finally! he thought in relief. He rubbed his forehead. This essay was not going to be as easy as he had thought. They were expected to write an entire foot on it, and he had only found enough information to fill half. Why can't I write? All Malfoys have done well in school, and easily at that. I'm probably the only brainless one in the bunch. I just wish I weren't so daft! ~ ~ ~
Draco and Brandon walked down one of the corridors that lined the edge of the inner courtyard, Crabbe and Goyle following behind. It was a nice Saturday morning, and so they were heading to one of the courtyards where there were several benches, to work on their Charms homework. They had learned the basic ones but now they needed to write a short bit about each one and examples of situations where they would come in handy. Also, they had Herbology homework to finish. They had to pick out a plant from their notes on Friday and write about it. They would probably be working on that Sunday night in the library, where they could look up more information about their plants.
"So, you're trying out for Quidditch, right?" Brandon asked as they walked.
Draco glanced back at Crabbe and Goyle, who were still following them. "You know, we're not going to the courtyard for anything fun. We're doing homework." At that, Crabbe and Goyle both gave him a wide-eyed expression and turned down another corridor. Easiest way to get rid of them when I want to do something productive. Anything dealing with homework, and they flee like its poison! Draco chuckled softly and looked at Brandon. "Oh, I'm trying out, that's for sure. Like I said last night, I've been playing Quidditch all of my life and unlike some," Draco said as Weasley and Potter passed them, "I can actually stay on my broom. My father says that I should be able to make it, even though the competition is tough."
Brandon nodded. "I know what you mean. I've played Quidditch a lot with my older brothers, but I don't even know if that's going to be good enough for the team."
Draco nodded. "That's what I'm worried about. I know my father expects me to be able to do everything easily, but I don't think he realizes that that's just not possible."
"I know," Brandon said. "My father's the same way. He expects the impossible, and when I don't measure up to his standards, he gets angry."
Draco smiled. "That makes two of us, but, although my father is strict, he's brilliant. He's just trying to make me a better person and if I can manage to excel in a lot of things, then maybe I can become just as good as he is."
"My father talks about yours all the time; holds him up like a god, he does. 'Mr. Malfoy is exactly the man that you want to become, son. Be like him, and everything will work out easily.' That's what my father always says."
They passed through a group of students and entered one of the side courtyards. They walked over to where two benches sat facing each other, and took out their Charms books, parchment, quills, and ink. Draco sprawled himself on his stomach on one of the benches, his plain black cloak falling over the sides. He rolled up the sleeves of dark gray turtleneck, and began writing. Brandon laid down on the other bench, doing the same. The sun felt good and a slight breeze passed over Draco's face, skimming his slicked back hair. That was another thing that his father had been adamant about; Draco was to always look good, no matter where he was, or what he was doing.
~ ~ ~
A few hours later, the sun began to set, and they had to pack up their things. Crabbe and Goyle had come by twice, seeing if they wanted to try some of the sweets that they had received from their parents. Draco had taken a pack of Cauldron Cakes, and that had lasted him through the rest of his homework. Crabbe and Goyle had waited around for awhile, but, seeing that Draco and Brandon weren't near the finish, they had left.
Draco was sprawled out on one of the black leather couches in the common room, his eyes closed, when Crabbe and Goyle came in. "Oy! Draco! What are you doing?"
Draco opened on eye to see them standing over him, looking down. "I was sleeping, until you two came and woke me up." Draco sat up, opening both of his eyes. He looked at Goyle's bandaged hand. "What happened?"
"Book bit me."
Draco quirked an eyebrow. "What?"
"I was looking at Sam's book and I guess I did something wrong because it bit me. It hurt too," Goyle said, wincing.
"So that's where you've been? In the hospital wing?" Crabbe and Goyle nodded.
"We couldn't find you, so we just went there," Crabbe said.
Draco shrugged. "Madame Pomfrey knows what she's doing. You'll be fine now, in any case." He looked at them, raising his eyebrows. "Well, don't just stand there. You can sit down."
They sat down and pulled out some sweets. Goyle held out a pack of opened Licorice Wands to Draco, who pulled a couple out. He bit into them. "Not bad."
"Did you do your essay on Uric the Oddball?" Crabbe asked.
"Yes, Crabbe," Draco said, sighing. "And yes, you can copy it later."
"Thanks!" Crabbe said, grinning.
"Me too?" Goyle asked.
Draco shrugged. "I don't care."
"Oy! Draco!" Draco looked over his shoulder as Jeff, a tall black-haired first-year, walked over to him.
"What?"
"Brandon told me that you're going to make the house team!" Jeff said excitedly.
Draco rolled his eyes. "I haven't made anything yet, Jeff. And it'll probably never happen." He smiled. "But it would be nice."
"He told me that you've been playing Quidditch all of your life! That's wicked!"
Draco shrugged. "I'm good," he admitted. He raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you played Quidditch before?"
"Oh yeah," Jeff said, shrugging. "But not as long as you. My dad wouldn't let me near a broom until two years ago. He didn't trust me with them after I accidentally flew my broom into the manor. I couldn't help it, really, the broom was so old! It just didn't want to cooperate. But," Jeff said, grinning, "my dad said that if I made the Quidditch team, he would buy me a Nimbus Two-Thousand!"
Draco grinned. "I want one of those so badly, but my father hasn't bought me one yet. Hopefully over Christmas I'll get one. They're wicked fast and I can't wait to fly one."
"Me neither," Jeff said, still grinning. "We'll see in about two weeks. After Halloween, the first match will be held. Even if I don't get to play, I can't wait to see the match! I heard it's going to be against Gryffindor."
Draco grinned. "Wouldn't that be nice if we could beat them? Then they wouldn't be too cocky anymore."
Jeff nodded. "Flying Lessons begin next week. I wonder who we'll get paired up with?"
Draco shrugged. "As long as it's not Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, I think I'll manage."
Jeff nodded. "Definitely."
~ ~ ~
Much to Draco's dismay, however, they were paired up with Gryffindor. That Thursday, a notice had been placed in their common room and all the Slytherin first-year were groaning loudly. "Why does it have to be Gryffindor?" one of them complained.
"Gryffindor hates us!" Pansy cried.
"It's not just them; everyone hates us!" another replied.
"They hate us the most though!"
Draco pushed past the group of Slytherins that were crowded around the posting, and headed to breakfast, Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
They sat down in their usual places underneath the large windows, and began eating. "I wonder what our Flying Lesson is going to be like," Goyle said, through a mouthful of sausage.
"As long as you can stay on your broom, I don't think it matter," Draco said. "Especially since we're paired up with Gryffindor. We don't want to be going and making fools of ourselves in front of them."
"I know," Brandon, who was sitting across from them, agreed. Terrace and Tawny were sitting next to Brandon.
"Well, we know for sure that one Gryffindor will make a fool of himself," Terrace said.
"Enlighten us," Draco said, smiling.
"Longbottom."
Draco laughed. "Good one Terrace. I don't think Longbottom could hold his broomstick, much less fly on it."
"What about Harry Potter?" Tawny asked.
Draco sneered. "Potter? He grew up with Muggles. What's he going to know about brooms? I wouldn't be surprised if he fell off of his too."
"He grew up with Muggles?" Terrace asked.
Draco nodded. "That's what I heard. My father told me that Potter had been living with Muggles all of his life, since his parents had been killed when You-Know-Who found them. And I bet he doesn't know a thing about Quidditch. I don't think he'd even know a Bludger if it hit him square in the face!" Draco said, laughing.
Terrace, Tawny, and Brandon laughed along with him. "That would be funny," Brandon said.
"Mail's here!" Crabbe called. Draco looked up to see the usual fleet of owls flying down from the openings in the ceiling. Draco spotted Mabol flying towards him, a package clutched in her talons. She dropped it off and Draco caught it.
"What'd you get?" Terrace asked.
Draco opened the letter that was attached.
Dear Draco,
I hope this tides you over for a bit. Inside are some of your favorite foods and sweets that I thought you might enjoy. How is school coming along? Are you making friends? I know you were so worried. Be sure to tell me what happens at Quidditch tryouts; your father is as anxious as I am to find out. I know that first-years don't usually make the house teams, but I think you are good enough. Good luck!
Love, Mother
Draco smiled. "My mother sent me a package."
"Food?" Goyle asked.
Draco sighed. "Yes, Goyle, and yes, you can have some."
"Thanks!" Goyle cried, grinning.
Crabbe opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off. "You can have some too, Crabbe."
Crabbe smiled. "Wicked!"
"I'm going to take this back to the common room and get my books. Coming?" Draco asked. Crabbe and Goyle nodded, stuffing some more food into their mouths. They stood.
They were walking up the center aisle, past the Gryffindor table, when Draco spotted something in front of Longbottom. A Remembrall! I've never actually seen one of those up close!
"It's a Remembrall!" Longbottom said. "Gran knows I forget things - this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it right like this and if it turns red - oh . . ." Longbottom held up the Remembrall as it glowed scarlet. ". . .you've forgotten something . . . The problem is, I don't remember what I've forgotten," Longbottom said, thinking.
Draco took the Remembrall from Longbottom's hand, looking at it. Wicked. Draco looked up abruptly as Potter and Weasley jumped up, glaring at Draco. Draco raised an eyebrow. What are they going to do, fight me? Then Draco spotted Professor McGonagall walking over to them. Draco's eyes widenend.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor," Longbottom whined.
Draco scowled at Longbottom, dropping it back onto the table. "I was just looking," he grumbled and walked away. What was their problem? I was just looking? It wasn't like I was going to take it! Can't someone just look at something, or is it against the law?
~ ~ ~
That afternoon, after a day indoors, they finally were released outside for their first Flying Lesson. The Slytherins walked out together, down the sloping lawns towards a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, where the trees were swaying darkly in the distance. Twenty broomsticks were lying on the ground. The cool breeze swept across Draco's face, moving his cloak, as they walked. It was a cool, breezy day, and Draco enjoyed the fresh air.
They stood in a group, near the broomsticks, waiting for the Gryffindors to arrive. Draco straightened his green and silver tie and fixed the clasp on the front of his robe, the embroidered silver on his Slytherin badge lighting up in the sun. Draco glanced over to where their professor, Madame Hooch, was standing. She was a tall witch, with short gray hair and yellow eyes like a hawk. Draco smiled. She doesn't look to bad. Maybe this class will be more fun that I had originally thought.
The soft thud of footsteps brought Draco from his thoughts, as the Gryffindors arrived, taking their places near the brooms. The Slytherins took their places on the opposite side, some glaring at the Gryffindors. Potter, Weasley, and Granger were standing across from Draco, but he just ignored them, looking at their professor.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Madame Hooch asked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up." They stepped to the left of their broomsticks. "Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'UP!"
"UP!" everyone shouted.
Draco watched as Potter's broomstick immediately leapt into his hand. Draco looked at him curiously, shouting, "UP!" His broomstick leapt into his hand. How had Potter manage to do that?
"UP!" Draco heard Weasley call and laughed when the broomstick handle flew up to hit him squarely in the face. Potter was laughing too. "Shut up, Harry," Weasley said, rubbing his face.
Draco just shook his head and looked around at the rest of the students. Many of them were having trouble, and much to Draco's pleasure, Granger's broom just rolled around on the ground. Not so perfect, are we? He thought, grinning. Crabbe and Goyle finally managed to get their brooms into their hands and once everyone had their brooms, Madame Hooch had them mount them.
She walked by, checking their handgrips. She stopped in front of Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, your hands should be placed like this," she said, correcting his grip. "It seems that you have been doing it wrong for years. Well, no matter, that can be fixed." She gave him a small smile and walked to the next student. Potter and Weasley were laughing at him and Draco glared darkly at them. What was their problem? Did they have to laugh at everything I do wrong? Weasley couldn't even get his broom up, so he has no right to be laughing. And Potter, what has he got against me? He's a horrible, stuck-up prat, and he has no right to laugh because he didn't even grow up with a proper family.
"Now, when I blow my whistle," Madame Hooch said, bringing Draco from his thoughts, "you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"
Draco watched, his eyes wide, as Longbottom pushed off too soon and was rising upwards, fast. "Come back, boy!" Madame Hooch shouted. The look on Longbottom's face made Draco snicker quietly. Longbottom, his face pure- white, was looking down at the ground, terrified. I know I shouldn't laugh, but it is rather funny. I mean, even I'm not that stupid to take off before she blew her whistle!
Suddenly Longbottom fell off his broom, landing with a loud 'THUD!', face down in the grass. His broomstick, meanwhile, had taken a mind of its own, and was now heading into the Forbidden Forest.
Madame Hooch rushed over to Longbottom, kneeling next to him. She held his wrist tenderly, her face white. "Broken wrist," she muttered. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get." She helped Longbottom to his feet, still holding his wrist. He was white as a sheet and trembling. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."
As soon as Madame Hooch had left, Draco let loose his laughter, shaking his head. A bunch of the Slytherins around him were laughing as well. "Did you see his face, the great lump?" Draco asked, shaking with laughter.
"Shut up, Malfoy," one of the Gryffindors snapped.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" asked Pansy. Draco smiled. At least she would always stand by him; that was good. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry-babies, Parvati."
Draco looked at the grass and spotted Longbottom's Remembrall. "Look!" he said, bending down and picking it up. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." Draco held it up for the rest of the Slytherins to see, who were snickering.
"Give that here, Malfoy," Potter said, stepping forward.
Draco looked at him and sneered. Everyone was quiet around them. "No, I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?"
"Give it here!" Potter yelled, but Draco was too quick. He leapt onto his broom and glided through the group of students, hovering in the air above their heads. He tossed the Remembrall up, catching it, looking down at Potter with a smile on his face.
"What's the matter, Potter? A bit beyond your reach?"
Draco watched in satisfaction as Potter reached for his broom. Granger grabbed him, saying something, but Potter ignored her, mounting his broom, and taking off. He turned the broomstick to face Draco. Draco's eyes went wide. Where had Potter learned to fly like that?
"Give it here, Malfoy, or I'll knock you off that broom!" Potter yelled.
Draco regained his composure, putting on a confident face. "Is that so?" Draco said, sneering. Could he really do it? Draco thought worriedly. Suddenly Potter shot forward, and Draco spun around his broom. When he had righted himself, he looked at Potter, very worried now. Potter could easily knock me off of here!
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Potter said.
Draco sneered at him, trying to cover the slight fear that clutched him inside. "Have it your way then!" Draco called and heaved the Remembrall towards the woods. Draco watched, stunned, as Potter shot past him, after the Remembrall. Draco brought his broom back onto the ground and stood next to Crabbe and Goyle, watching as Potter dove after the ball. Draco's eyes went wide as Potter snatched the ball out of the air, toppling the few feet to the grass.
"HARRY POTTER!" Draco looked to see Professor McGonagall running towards them. Draco smirked. Potter was going to get it now. Even his fame won't save him this time.
Potter stood, still holding the ball in his fist. "Never - in all my time at Hogwarts - how dare you - might have broken your neck -"
"It wasn't his fault, Professor -" Parvati said.
"Be quiet, Miss Patil -"
"But Mafloy -" Weasley began.
"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."
Draco smirked, watching as Potter followed McGonagall into the castle.
Madame Hooch came back out, looking at the crowd. "What happened?" she asked.
"Potter got in trouble with Professor McGonagall," Draco said simply. "He was flying his broomstick when he shouldn't have been."
Madame Hooch shook her head. "Well, Professor McGonagall will take care of that, I am sure." A bell sounded in the distance. "Well, you'd had better head back to your common rooms. Dinner will be served shortly."
Draco walked beside Crabbe and Goyle; Pansy, Terrace, Brandon, and Tawny following behind. "What an idiot, diving after that Remembrall," Draco said, laughing, trying to conceal a twinge of nervousness inside him. Potter can fly, there's no doubt about that. But how?
"He wouldn't have done that if you hadn't provoked him, Malfoy," a Gryffindor said as the lot of them walked by.
Draco just rolled his eyes.
"Potter's in for it now," Pansy said, smirking.
"The Famous Harry Potter, already in trouble," Brandon said, laughing. "Professor Snape was right. Fame isn't everything."
"Yeah," Draco said, laughing, but he was still shaken from the encounter with Potter.