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Authors note: This is my first Harry Potter story. While it's in an alternate fourth year, I took some liberty with Harry's class schedule (Potions being on Monday, for instance). This chapter is just setting everything up. The real fun stuff will happen later. *EG*

Prologue:
The bloody train-ride always made him nauseous.

Usually, Draco would be keeping his mind off his own nausea by sneaking around the compartments, spying on other students and testing out the first years. This time, however, he felt too sick to even move. All he could do was stare out the window, watching the scenery flash by at high speeds while massaging his stomach.

And to think that some muggles traveled this way all the time! It was barbaric. he said, without looking at the boy, reach into my pack and get me some of my Mother's cookies. It was a lucky thing that his mother took pity on his motion sickness. Sweet foods usually helped a great deal.

Draco heard crunching, and turned just in time to see Goyle snatching one of the cookies for himself before he handed the box to Draco. Carrier's fee. Goyle muttered, his lips covered in crumbs.

Draco glared at him for a moment, but had to inwardly admit that he had used the same trick to take Goyle's food many times in the past. It figured that the dimwit would finally catch on and turn it against him... it only took about four years.

It didn't help his mood any that the cookies were oatmeal. He _hated_ oatmeal with a passion, but his mother shoved it down his throat anyway, claiming it was good. What would she know? He had never seen her eat the stuff before.

He heard footsteps echoing down the hall even over the white noise of the train. Draco's quick ears picked it up immediately as a party of three. Reaching over, he opened the door to his compartment slightly and stuck his foot out. Unfortunately, he was a shade too early, and the person was able to see what was coming. In fact, he gave Draco's foot a hard kick.

He hissed, pulling his leg back, You'll pay for that, he looked up to see who had done the deed,

Serves you right! Said a haughty female voice, still hidden by the partially closed door. Granger, most likely.

The train gave a lurch that was instantly translated into another wave of nausea. Whatever witty remark Draco was about to say was completely lost in the fact that he was going to puke soon. Shut up, muggle! He snapped, shutting the compartment door, before looking moodily out into the scenery again. Looking at the trees did help, a little. It irked him that his had been cut short. He would have to make up for it when he was feeling a bit better.

Draco's stomach eventually settled a bit, and he began to doze off, when he heard tapping at the train window. It was Peavey, his Eagle owl. Muttering something under his breath, he opened up the window. Peavey flew in, dropped a piece of blue parchment onto the floor, and then flew out like the expertly trained bird he was.

What's that? Crabbe wondered aloud, reaching for the parchment.

Draco was quicker and grabbed it up first. It's none of your business, he answered curtly, opening up the message. His face, hidden by the heavy paper, fell a little. Quickly, he schooled it into a very, very forced smile. Oh good, my schedule change went through. I have Divination instead of Astronomy this year.

He knew much better than to let Crabbe and Goyle know that this was not what he wanted. They would end up telling their parents, who in turn would tell his Father. Then... well, things wouldn't be good. Good friends stabbed you in the front, after all. Sometimes, Draco wondered if it were true.

Completely not interested, Crabbe went back to staring out the window. Goyle was napping by his side.

The stupid smile was wiped off of Draco's face when he bent down to read the letter a second time. He had been hoping that the change would not be approved. He truly enjoyed Astronomy Class. Not only was it not with the Gryffindors... he had a knack for it.

His Father was the one who had wanted him to change classes. In fact, he insisted on it all summer. When Draco refused point blank to have the classes changed, Lucius even more strongly on it, and locked Draco away in his three bedrooms until he relented.

Draco sighed. This summer had been a hell and now with his favorite class taken away... this term wasn't shaping up to look so great either.

If he only knew.
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Chapter One:


The sunrise never seemed so lovely, so magical and inviting, than on the morning of double potions class. Harry would have loved nothing more than to stand at the castle window and watch the sun come up. Maybe if he stood here long enough, potions would be over by the time he got down to the dark, dank little hole.

It was the start of the forth year, the first day of school. It would have been great... if not for the class. Although Harry considered Hogwarts to be his true home, every home has its downside, and double potions with Slytherin was a definite downside.

Pretty, isn't it? Ron asked to his right. His flaming red hair was sticking out at all angles, looking like he had just rolled out of bed. This was partially true. It was hard coming off a summer of long nights, and he had slept in late. I could just stay here and miss potions completely, Ron added, really, I could.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a huff of ignition. Hermione had not noticed the boy's pause by the window, and had walked halfway down the hall without them.

Would you two hurry up?

Ron asked, putting a little bit of a whine in his voice.

Stomping over to the two of them, she grabbed their wrists and forcefully pulled them from the window. If you think Snape makes you miserable now, wait until we're late for the first day of class.

Harry reluctantly nodded, shaking free of Hermione's grasp and walking on his own. She was right, of course. He didn't feel up to tempting Snape's temper this early in the year.

They found the room easily enough, of course. Long past were they days where they could get easily lost in the shifting stairways of Hogwarts. Harry trooped in first, finding a place in the back with his fellow Gryffindors. Ron (still being pulled in by Hermione, and enjoying every moment of it) sat beside him.

I guess we know who wears the pants in that relationship. Came an all too familiar voice across the room.

Harry didn't want to look, but he couldn't help himself. Draco Malfoy was turned around in his seat at the front of the class, sneering at them. Draco had grown another inch or two over the summer, but then again, so had Harry. For a moment, Harry contented himself with the knowledge that while he would still have to look up slightly to meet that sneer, the height difference wasn't too bad.

Then again, if this was going to be a truly good year, he wouldn't have to see Malfoy's sneering face close up at all. That would be nice...

His hopes were dashed when Draco rose from his seat and sauntered over to the trio, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him as usual. I hope you don't plan on sitting there all semester. His cool-as-cucumber gaze slid back and forth between Ron and Hermione. I don't want to be distracted by the sounds of snogging.

Oh shut up, Malfoy. Hermione rolled her eyes and took out her Potions: Level Seven textbook, refusing to look at him. Refusing to furter acknowledge his presence at all.

Yeah really, is that the best you can come up with? asked Ron.

Draco's blueish gray eyes narrowed slightly, It's a pity, Weasel. As poor as your family is, as least your line is pure. Not tainted by... shall I say, mud?

Up until this moment, Harry had been sitting quietly, hoping that Snape would show up and put a stop to this (and take points from Gryffindor, but that was only normal). But this had gone over the line. He stood up so fast that his chair was almost knocked out behind him. Go back into whatever hole you came out of, Malfoy. Leave us decent people alone.

Draco barked, Gryffindors, decent? That's a laugh.

Hermione still wasn't even bothering to look at him. Then what do you suppose Slytherins are? Saints?

At least we are upfront, and we don't have to hide behind our friends to get things done. The ludicrousness of what he was saying made Harry wince slightly. Here was this idiot with two bodyguards behind him, telling them off for sticking together. After a moments pause, Draco seemed to realize this too, and continued, Plus, we're smarter.

Is that why Hermione is top of the class? Harry jerked a thumb at Hermione who finally looked up at Draco, smiling an acid smile.

Draco snorted, Her? Sure, the muggle is good in the classroom, but what about real life? He snapped his fingers, She's dead.

Hermione looked like she wanted to throw her heavy textbook right at Draco's face for a moment, but she seemed to restrain herself. At least he didn't call her a mudblood this time. Just go ahead and keep believing that, Malfoy. Whatever it takes to let you sleep at night.

Do you want to prove it? Draco asked, quickly.

Hermione blinked, What are you... oh. No, I have better things to do.

It seemed to take Ron a few second to catch up to Draco's line of thinking as well. Sod off. I remember what happened last time you tried the Wizard Duel on us. You didn't even show up.

No then? Draco's eyes had now focused only on Harry, and his sneer grew two fold. How about you, Potter? I could do with a little bit of excitement this early in the term.

Ron's right. You won't even show up.

Slytherin's honor. When Draco saw that Harry wouldn't budge, he amended it, Fine. Malfoy's honor.

Common sense told Harry not to fall for it. Hermione's disgruntled tutting told Harry not to fall for it. Even the feeling in the pit of his stomach told him not to fall for it. But, looking at Draco's face... that cocky arrogant face ... he wanted to knock that look right off. Just once. Okay. Friday night in the trophy room. Hermione will be my second.

Golye is mine. See you there, Potter. With one final moment of hesitation, Draco left for his own seat. Crabbe and Golye following behind.

Hermione stared at Harry. I can't believe you!

Ron chimed in, just as peeved, I can't believe that you picked Hermione over me to be your second!

Harry shrugged, Well... she does know the most hexes-

Hermione cut him off, I can't believe that you're doing this at all, Harry! You and Ron almost got caught the last time and... and this is stupid! Ugh! Boys! Throwing up her hands in frustration, it took her a few moments for her to calm down, she added, in a strangely logical voice, I can't be your second. I have a Saturday advanced Arithmacy class, and I refuse to stop my studying just to watch you and Malfoy curse boils at each other.

As if to put a seal on Hermione's point, the door to the potions class swung open and Professor Snape walked in. Get out your textbooks, he said as he strode to his desk, and turn to page fifteen. Your exams last year were abysmal. It seems you all have to unlearn all of your idiot assumptions before I can try to bring you up to the level that you should be at. His words were really nothing new, but his gaze... his cold steely gaze pinned down even the Slytherins in the classroom. Harry guessed that Snape wasn't exaggerating. The exams were _bad_. He himself had just barely scrapped by.

As Snape was lecturing the class on the proper ways to cure toad toenails, Harry wrote a quite note on a spare piece of parchment before shoving it over to Ron.

Do you want to be my second?
Ron paused before writing back. Apparently, his ego had been bruised by Harry picking Hermione over himself. But, it hadn't been crushed.

Sure. We'll clobber him, Harry.
Ten points from Gryffindor! Snape's voice seemed to cut right through the classroom, making it seem as if he were yelling right in Harry's ear. Already half the classroom's eyes were turned towards Harry. When there were points to be deducted in potions, Harry or Neville were usually the cause.

Are my lectures boring you, Mr. Potter? Must you go and seek amusement by passing notes instead?

Ron was just showing me something I'd missed in the lecture. Harry said without hesitation. He had the excuse in store if he was caught.

Snape wasn't fooled. Make that twenty points from Gryfindor. You're a horrible liar, Mr. Potter. Snape went back to his lecture after that, leaving Harry grateful he had gotten off so easily. It wasn't exactly the best start to this term, however.

Not so great starts rarely led to good finishes.
**********


Since Herminie refused flat out to help them in any way (I won't be encouraging you two!). Harry and Ron were left by themselves to come up with a game plan against Malfoy.

The boys came back from the library, arms aching from hauling up promising books to the common room. Harry's personal favorite was, Easy Charms for Revenge by Winter Ilean. Ron was partial to Hateful Hexes by Dezi Exline and Charms To Perform on The Socially Challenged by Crystal Steely.

The next few nights were spent pouring over the texts, gleaning out anything useful. They were both well aware that Draco probably had access to books with a lot meaner spells than these, and they needed something big. Something good.

It meant even more than that to Harry, though. He found that it just wasn't enough to beat Malfoy. He wanted Draco so embarrassed, so blown out of the water in this duel, that he could never look at Harry again without cringing. In all of the many books they looked through, nothing was good enough for him. All of the spells and hexes were too tame, too temporary for his liking.

Ron snapped, after the forth night of looking, not trying to kill him!

Harry glanced at Ron for a moment, and then looked back at the book again, not answering. Had he really bothered to self analyze, he would have realized that he was placing all of his pent up anger with another horrible summer with the Dursleys on Draco's head. Anger and frustration that normally would be worked out in Quidditch practice was now centered souly on this duel. Not good enough, not painful enough. He would often mutter, looking through the books.

All Ron could do was look at him with worry.

Friday night was upon them, and Harry still hadn't found what he wanted.

Give it up already, Ron made it sound like a plea, I don't think you'll find what you're looking for even if you go to the restricted section.

Harry put down the book he was reading (101 ways to one-up your enemy) Maybe you're right. Saying that left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he had to take off his glasses to rub his sore eyes before glancing at the wall clock. It was nine-thirty. Just an hour and a half to go.

Slowly, his gaze drifted from the clock to the middle of the room as people were apt to do when lost in their own thoughts. Ron was saying something, giving Harry a pep talk, but he wasn't listening.

Something had caught his eye.

Harry quickly rose from the seat and crossed to the other side of the common room, leaving Ron still talking behind him.

There, nestled in a dark corner on, a hardly used table lay a simple black book, obviously forgotten by its owner. Curious, Harry picked it up and turned it over, searching for a title. There was one, carved into the leather in gold, but it was in a strange language that he couldn't read. Almost a mix of French and Portuguese. Opening the pages, Harry was not surprised to find the same language written in the texts. Some words were bolded, and in Latin. Spells, perhaps.

Walking back to Ron, Harry turned though the pages. Every once in awhile he would come up on some scribbled notes underneath the text. Someone had been taking notes.

What do you have? Ron asked.

A book, Harry replied, not really listening at all.

Then he came on it.

The spell he had been looking for.

Scribbled in the notes was a description for the curse of his dreams. Something that would knock Malfoy out of the duel for sure. Ron! I think this is it! He said, pointing excitedly to the page.

Ron rose out of his seat and read over Harry's shoulder. First his brown eyes widened, than narrowed. Finally he said, You're not practicing that on me.



To be continued...

Well, thanks for reading this, guys. The next chapter should be up shortly, as I already have it written down on paper.


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