Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.
Chapter 7 - I Said Stay Dead - Die! Die!
So we not only watched Quirrell, but for the next few weeks we spent a large chunk of our free time out in the grounds, in groups of two (Blaise and Cat, or Theo and me - I didn't want Pansy thinking I was doing anything that an eleven year old is too young to do anyway). And just to add to the fun, exams decided to start looming as well, so we had revision to be doing. Never really found anything searching the grounds, and we quickly gave up on the lead as worthless.
Pansy was getting all the more clingy since I'd been, as she put it, "Sneaking off with those three to get up to no good." She decided to stay with me at all times. Fun. I try to avoid her, at the best of times, but now she was becoming as much like a shadow as the Two Twits.
I shook her off, saying I wanted to study. "It's this wonderful new invention called a Library, Pans. You'll not know what that means, but I'm going there, and I'd appreciate a lack of company." I glanced over her shoulder, at Crabbe and Goyle, but they were in blissful ignorance of everything around them.
"Fine." she snapped, and stomped off.
"Wow." I said to myself, stunned, "That was easier that I'd expected."
The Library was a little more crowded than usual (there were about five or six people there, when I got there ... for the Hogwarts Library on a Saturday, that's crowded). I took a seat in a corner, well away from prying eyes, and anyone who wanted to make the mistake of trying to be sociable. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to actually get some work done, for a change.
After an hour and a half of productive studying, I was disturbed by someone I'd never expected to see with a book, let alone in a Library. The gamekeeper - Hagrid. He clomped over to the shelves right next to my table, and took down a few books, examining them to see if they were what he was looking for. I glared at him for five seconds, wrinkled my nose, waited another five seconds, just to be able to say that I had been patient, then grabbed up all my books, and moved to a table in the next section. This was the invisibility section - no one would bother me here.
I returned to my studies, trying to pretend that I hadn't seen that. Hagrid had NOT come into the dangerous creatures section of the Library, and I don't care if he did.
Minutes later, I was distracted, again, by a yell, "Hagrid!" that was Weasley's voice. And so much for pretending it never happened. And I'd honestly thought the gamekeeper was illiterate. "What are you doing in a Library?" Weasley asked. Good question, especially considering the I.Q. of the person asking it.
"Jus' lookin'." was the unconvincing reply. Wait a second ... what section was he in? Dangerous creatures. That can NOT be good. "An' what're you lot up ter?" he asked. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"
"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago." Weasley said loudly. The way he's talking, you'd think he was the one who'd found it. I'll bet anything it was Hermione who really found it. I kind of hope it was in the book I gave her. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Philosopher's St-"
"Shhhh!" Hagrid hissed. Yes - do shut up, Weasley. Do you want the whole school to know? On that topic, I wonder how many other students have worked it out, already. They lowered their voices, and the rest of the conversation was inaudible from where I sat. Stupid Weasley. Well, at least I know how much they know. Maybe they'll work out that Quirrell's up to no good, some one of these days, too.
What I wouldn't give for a good poison, and a reason to offer Quirrell a drink. But, of course, that would be too easy.
Another hour passed, and I managed to get a surprising amount of work done. Then I decided to go back to the common room. It was starting to get late.
As I emerged from the concealed area where I had been studying, I saw precisely two people there. Madam Pince, and Hermione. "Friends left you all alone, have they, Granger?" I asked, as I wandered over to the table she was studying at.
"I wanted to stay and get more revision done, before I went back to the common room." she said, tilting her chin up in a way that was designed to make one feel lower and less significant than her ... of course, that trick never works on a Malfoy, but it's the thought that counts.
"Right." I said with a disbelieving tone, which earned me a vicious glare, "I overheard Weasley mentioning a Philosopher's Stone, earlier." her jaw dropped at this, "Don't worry," I said, waving my hand dismissively, "I already knew what it was, anyway. Now I know how far you've gotten. Have you worked out who wants it, yet?"
"Yes." she said haughtily.
"Spill the beans, then." I said, smirking,
"No." was her simple, yet annoying response.
"I gave you that book, earlier in the year ... it was where you found Flamel, wasn't it?" I asked, smirking.
She looked stunned, "I totally forgot about that," she said.
"So who do you think is after the Stone?" I asked.
"Snape." she answered. I tried not to laugh - Madam Pince wouldn't approve, if I did.
"You're kidding, right? It is NOT Snape." I said, smirking.
"Who says you're right? You might be the one who got it wrong ... ever thought of that?" she asked.
"That thought never even considered pondering the possibility of crossing my mind." I said, keeping a straight face, "I have proof. It's not Snape."
"Are you going to tell me who it is, then?" she asked, tetchily.
I looked around, noted Pince's disappearance and the absence of anyone, whatsoever, to listen in. I then leaned right over, so I could whisper in her ear, lowering my voice to the faintest whisper - I wasn't about to take ANY chances, "Snape has been loyal to Dumbledore, since before you or I were born ... and who's new this year? Hell, which subject gets a new teacher every year? Quirrell is the one who's after it, and that stutter is a total fake. Why, prey tell, would an expert on the subject and handling of trolls run screaming and faint at one small enough to walk through the school corridors? I have conclusive proof that it's him ... proof that it could literally kill me to tell anyone, even you ... and I've already said to much." I stood up straight and looked around fearfully, "If he finds out I saw him ... just trust me, Granger, please."
"Trust you, Malfoy? Ha!" she responded, "That really is funny. I saw Snape jinxing Harry's broom, during the first Quidditch match. I saw it."
"And I saw both Snape and Quirrell casting jinxes. One of them had to have been a counter-curse." I retorted.
"Well, why'd it stop when Snape was distracted?"
"Snape knocked Quirrell over - quite deliberately, I thought - when his robes caught on fi-" I stopped mid-word, as realisation nearly gave me a concussion from the force it hit me with, "It was you - you set Snape's robes on fire, didn't you?" I said, with a triumphant grin, "Well done, Granger. No one has ever done anything like that to Snape, without being caught." rabbit-in-headlights looks were being directed at me, so I added, "I won't turn you in. It's just good to know that someone did it."
She seemed to recover from that panic-induced-catatonia, blinked, and said, "But I don't think you're right. It couldn't be him."
"Please, trust me. Or if you can't bring yourself to do that, then at least don't trust Quirrell." I said plaintively.
"Fine. Whatever." she said, sounding exasperated.
* * *
"No." Derrick said firmly.
"Snowflake in Hell." Bole added.
"Aww, c'mon. Please. Look, I'll pay you for it." I really had hoped they'd like the idea, but Bole and Derrick were wearing glares that said 'go away, you little brat, you're in over your head'. Of course, I knew that already - I was just trying to get someone to help me out.
"We said 'no', didn't we?" Derrick asked.
"Yeah, but I thought the prospect of payment might have affected your decision." I noted. I wasn't tiptoeing around the fact that I was trying to bribe them. Everyone has a price - EVERYONE.
"How much?" Bole asked.
"Ummm." that was a good question. How much was I willing to pay to have them take out Quirrell, "I'll pay you ten Galleons."
"Why are you so keen on losing our DADA teacher, anyway? He's such a softie, we can get away with anything." Derrick asked.
"Not to mention the legal implications. I mean, you're asking for attempted murder." Bole noted, "That does NOT come cheap."
"I don't want ATTEMPTED murder. I want murder. And I'll pay you twenty." I said, "If you pull it off. If you can, that is." I taunted, deciding to go for their egos ... it's the weakest link in most males (myself included - I still fall for it all the time).
"Twenty Galleons." Derrick said sceptically, "For risk of expulsion and possibly even Azkaban. Get real."
"It'd be considered a sports accident - people get killed in professional Quidditch on average once a year." I said, "And when they examine the body, they'll be glad he's dead."
"What do you know, Malfoy?" Bole asked suspiciously.
"Enough to know we'll all be better off without Quirrell." I said, trying not to give too much away.
Derrick gave me a searching look, as if he was trying to read my mind, with no success. "I don't trust you."
Bole, on the other hand. "Make it fifty, and I'll have a shot." he said, smirking, "But full payment in advance, and no refunds."
"No way." I said, "You get paid for eliminating him, not taking a shot at him. And only after you succeed."
"You are really pushing it, Malfoy." Bole informed me.
"I'm not doing this." Derrick said, "But I'll not rat you out, if you do manage to kill him." with that, he left.
"Well?" I asked, looking to Bole.
"Fifty?"
"Fine." I said, nodding, "But only after you crack his skull. I want a head-shot."
"I'll try my best." Bole said, grinning, "Just tell me why you want him dead?"
"You don't want to know." I answered.
Bole gave me a curious look, "You're only a first year, and you're already paying to have people killed off? You've got some nerve, kid," he said, with a smirk, "You got a deal."
"Deal." I replied, and we shook on it.
* * *
And so to the match. Slytherin vs Ravenclaw. I got myself a good seat, with a view of the teachers' box. There were only four teachers up there - Snape, Quirrell, McGonagall, and Flitwick. Bole better have good aim - Snape is my favourite teacher. I settled in my seat, and grinned. This would be worth five hundred Galleons, if Bole pulls it off, and he only managed to haggle it up to fifty. Then again, he doesn't know the significance of who he's been hired to kill.
Cat, Blaise, and Theo arrived, and claimed the seats to my left. "Hey." I said, by way of greeting, "Theo, I talked to the Beaters."
"You did?" Theo asked, stunned, "I was only joking, when I said that - you do realise that?"
"I know you were only kidding, but I liked the idea." I said, smirking.
"Well?" Theo asked.
"Bole's going to take a shot at him. If he gets a kill, he gets fifty Galleons." I said, watching Quirrell with an evil glint in my eyes - I had no mirror present, but I know when I've got that evil look.
"Fifty Galleons?!" all three of them repeated, stunned.
"How much would you pay, for someone to knock off Evil-Incarnate-Wannabie?" I asked.
"More than that." Cat said, "You got yourself a good deal."
Blaise simply nodded, but Theo gawped at me, "Fifty Galleons! Gods, he's a sell-out. I'm surprised you could buy a kill that cheap ... even if he didn't know who his target really is."
I shrugged, but the conversation stopped abruptly, when Pansy parked herself in the seat to my right. "Hi, Drackey." I do wish she would stop calling me that. Wonder if I could get a contract taken out on her, too.
"Hi, Pans." I replied, "Please don't call me that."
Pansy pouted, but didn't say anything else.
We all turned our attention to air above, as the game commenced.
Right away, Ravenclaw took the Quaffle, and set about confusing our Chasers. I was more interested in watching the Seekers and Beaters. Derrick was flying lower, protecting the Chasers, while Bole had flown up to Higgs, and whacked a Bludger away from him. Higgs was still circling too low and too tightly - I was so going to get on the team, next year. Bole maintained his altitude, giving the impression of protecting the Seeker. Which is a good idea, considering rule number one in the Beater's Bible is 'take out the Seeker'. And he got a couple of good shots at the Ravens' Seeker, too.
Twenty minutes later, and I was getting bored. Ravens were ahead on points, but not by too much. Higgs was looking useless ... but I hadn't spotted the Snitch yet either, so I couldn't complain. Bole was still on Seeker patrol. And as soon as I looked away, a huge gasp of shock erupted from the audience. I looked back up to see Bole hovering near the teachers' box.
"And Slytherin Beater, Bole, deflected a Bludger straight into the teachers' box. Nearly took Quirrell's be-turbaned head off," the commentator announced. Nearly - important word - NEARLY. Damn. "The Bludger's gone back to the game, now - and I think Quirrell is throwing an epileptic fit." that sounded good. See if he falls out of the box. "No. He's fine. Well, it looks like DADA class isn't gonna be cancelled, folks."
Bugger. Shit. Damn. Crap. Hell. And any other swear-words that I can't think of right now, as well.
The Evil-Git lives. I'll bet Bole will want paid, anyway. Well sod that - we had a deal - dead Quirrell or no payment.
"So much for that." Theo muttered to me. I nodded, and resumed my vigil on the Seekers. The Ravens' Seeker dived first, but Higgs spotted her and plummeted after her. She was not riding a Nimbus 2000, so Higgs actually had time to overtake her.
We won!!
We won the Quidditch match, anyway. Shame the homicide attempt failed, though.
* * *
I was now sulking. I wish I'd seen exactly what had happened. Either Quirrell dodged/ducked, or Bole missed. Either way, I was in a seriously bad mood, when I returned to the dorm.
"And what are you two up to?" I asked, as I stalked into the room, to see Crabbe and Goyle bent over a piece of parchment.
"Reading." Crabbe answered.
"I didn't know you could read." I said immediately.
They didn't realise that I was joking, and Goyle said, "Yes, we can."
"Anything that doesn't have cardboard pages, three words to a page, and a guarantee that it's non-poisonous if chewed?" I asked.
Again, they didn't get it. "We're planning an attack on the Gryffindors." Crabbe said dully.
"Like what?" I asked, joining them and looking over Goyle's shoulder at the page. "This'll never work, but I'm surprised you two came up with such a good idea, on your own." I said, looking at the map of the school dungeons, covered in their scrawled plans to spike the pumpkin juice on the Gryffindor table with a laughing potion.
"What'd we get wrong?" Goyle asked, looking up at me stupidly.
"You need to spike the juice after it's been divided into the four tables, otherwise we'll all get a dose." I said, re-reading their roughly scrawled notes. "And I'd advise against just walking into the kitchens, without a diversion. The house elves wouldn't let Slytherins near the Gryffindors' food, anymore than they'd let the Gryffindors near ours. Vermin, they may be, but they're not stupid."
They both had blank looks.
"Keep trying." I said, smirking, "You might actually do something right, by yourselves, for once." It would be good to teach them to have a mind of their own, for a change. It'd mean I could distance myself from them, a bit. I don't like the way they talk about the Dark Times, like it was a great and wonderful thing ... war, destruction, terror, people killing people ... that's not usually considered good, by any stretch of the imagination.
And unless someone catches on to Quirrell, there's a real chance that it could happen again. I was very happy to live after the Dark Times ended, and I don't want to see them return. I don't want to see Him return.
* * *
End of chapter 7
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.
Chapter 7 - I Said Stay Dead - Die! Die!
So we not only watched Quirrell, but for the next few weeks we spent a large chunk of our free time out in the grounds, in groups of two (Blaise and Cat, or Theo and me - I didn't want Pansy thinking I was doing anything that an eleven year old is too young to do anyway). And just to add to the fun, exams decided to start looming as well, so we had revision to be doing. Never really found anything searching the grounds, and we quickly gave up on the lead as worthless.
Pansy was getting all the more clingy since I'd been, as she put it, "Sneaking off with those three to get up to no good." She decided to stay with me at all times. Fun. I try to avoid her, at the best of times, but now she was becoming as much like a shadow as the Two Twits.
I shook her off, saying I wanted to study. "It's this wonderful new invention called a Library, Pans. You'll not know what that means, but I'm going there, and I'd appreciate a lack of company." I glanced over her shoulder, at Crabbe and Goyle, but they were in blissful ignorance of everything around them.
"Fine." she snapped, and stomped off.
"Wow." I said to myself, stunned, "That was easier that I'd expected."
The Library was a little more crowded than usual (there were about five or six people there, when I got there ... for the Hogwarts Library on a Saturday, that's crowded). I took a seat in a corner, well away from prying eyes, and anyone who wanted to make the mistake of trying to be sociable. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to actually get some work done, for a change.
After an hour and a half of productive studying, I was disturbed by someone I'd never expected to see with a book, let alone in a Library. The gamekeeper - Hagrid. He clomped over to the shelves right next to my table, and took down a few books, examining them to see if they were what he was looking for. I glared at him for five seconds, wrinkled my nose, waited another five seconds, just to be able to say that I had been patient, then grabbed up all my books, and moved to a table in the next section. This was the invisibility section - no one would bother me here.
I returned to my studies, trying to pretend that I hadn't seen that. Hagrid had NOT come into the dangerous creatures section of the Library, and I don't care if he did.
Minutes later, I was distracted, again, by a yell, "Hagrid!" that was Weasley's voice. And so much for pretending it never happened. And I'd honestly thought the gamekeeper was illiterate. "What are you doing in a Library?" Weasley asked. Good question, especially considering the I.Q. of the person asking it.
"Jus' lookin'." was the unconvincing reply. Wait a second ... what section was he in? Dangerous creatures. That can NOT be good. "An' what're you lot up ter?" he asked. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"
"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago." Weasley said loudly. The way he's talking, you'd think he was the one who'd found it. I'll bet anything it was Hermione who really found it. I kind of hope it was in the book I gave her. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Philosopher's St-"
"Shhhh!" Hagrid hissed. Yes - do shut up, Weasley. Do you want the whole school to know? On that topic, I wonder how many other students have worked it out, already. They lowered their voices, and the rest of the conversation was inaudible from where I sat. Stupid Weasley. Well, at least I know how much they know. Maybe they'll work out that Quirrell's up to no good, some one of these days, too.
What I wouldn't give for a good poison, and a reason to offer Quirrell a drink. But, of course, that would be too easy.
Another hour passed, and I managed to get a surprising amount of work done. Then I decided to go back to the common room. It was starting to get late.
As I emerged from the concealed area where I had been studying, I saw precisely two people there. Madam Pince, and Hermione. "Friends left you all alone, have they, Granger?" I asked, as I wandered over to the table she was studying at.
"I wanted to stay and get more revision done, before I went back to the common room." she said, tilting her chin up in a way that was designed to make one feel lower and less significant than her ... of course, that trick never works on a Malfoy, but it's the thought that counts.
"Right." I said with a disbelieving tone, which earned me a vicious glare, "I overheard Weasley mentioning a Philosopher's Stone, earlier." her jaw dropped at this, "Don't worry," I said, waving my hand dismissively, "I already knew what it was, anyway. Now I know how far you've gotten. Have you worked out who wants it, yet?"
"Yes." she said haughtily.
"Spill the beans, then." I said, smirking,
"No." was her simple, yet annoying response.
"I gave you that book, earlier in the year ... it was where you found Flamel, wasn't it?" I asked, smirking.
She looked stunned, "I totally forgot about that," she said.
"So who do you think is after the Stone?" I asked.
"Snape." she answered. I tried not to laugh - Madam Pince wouldn't approve, if I did.
"You're kidding, right? It is NOT Snape." I said, smirking.
"Who says you're right? You might be the one who got it wrong ... ever thought of that?" she asked.
"That thought never even considered pondering the possibility of crossing my mind." I said, keeping a straight face, "I have proof. It's not Snape."
"Are you going to tell me who it is, then?" she asked, tetchily.
I looked around, noted Pince's disappearance and the absence of anyone, whatsoever, to listen in. I then leaned right over, so I could whisper in her ear, lowering my voice to the faintest whisper - I wasn't about to take ANY chances, "Snape has been loyal to Dumbledore, since before you or I were born ... and who's new this year? Hell, which subject gets a new teacher every year? Quirrell is the one who's after it, and that stutter is a total fake. Why, prey tell, would an expert on the subject and handling of trolls run screaming and faint at one small enough to walk through the school corridors? I have conclusive proof that it's him ... proof that it could literally kill me to tell anyone, even you ... and I've already said to much." I stood up straight and looked around fearfully, "If he finds out I saw him ... just trust me, Granger, please."
"Trust you, Malfoy? Ha!" she responded, "That really is funny. I saw Snape jinxing Harry's broom, during the first Quidditch match. I saw it."
"And I saw both Snape and Quirrell casting jinxes. One of them had to have been a counter-curse." I retorted.
"Well, why'd it stop when Snape was distracted?"
"Snape knocked Quirrell over - quite deliberately, I thought - when his robes caught on fi-" I stopped mid-word, as realisation nearly gave me a concussion from the force it hit me with, "It was you - you set Snape's robes on fire, didn't you?" I said, with a triumphant grin, "Well done, Granger. No one has ever done anything like that to Snape, without being caught." rabbit-in-headlights looks were being directed at me, so I added, "I won't turn you in. It's just good to know that someone did it."
She seemed to recover from that panic-induced-catatonia, blinked, and said, "But I don't think you're right. It couldn't be him."
"Please, trust me. Or if you can't bring yourself to do that, then at least don't trust Quirrell." I said plaintively.
"Fine. Whatever." she said, sounding exasperated.
* * *
"No." Derrick said firmly.
"Snowflake in Hell." Bole added.
"Aww, c'mon. Please. Look, I'll pay you for it." I really had hoped they'd like the idea, but Bole and Derrick were wearing glares that said 'go away, you little brat, you're in over your head'. Of course, I knew that already - I was just trying to get someone to help me out.
"We said 'no', didn't we?" Derrick asked.
"Yeah, but I thought the prospect of payment might have affected your decision." I noted. I wasn't tiptoeing around the fact that I was trying to bribe them. Everyone has a price - EVERYONE.
"How much?" Bole asked.
"Ummm." that was a good question. How much was I willing to pay to have them take out Quirrell, "I'll pay you ten Galleons."
"Why are you so keen on losing our DADA teacher, anyway? He's such a softie, we can get away with anything." Derrick asked.
"Not to mention the legal implications. I mean, you're asking for attempted murder." Bole noted, "That does NOT come cheap."
"I don't want ATTEMPTED murder. I want murder. And I'll pay you twenty." I said, "If you pull it off. If you can, that is." I taunted, deciding to go for their egos ... it's the weakest link in most males (myself included - I still fall for it all the time).
"Twenty Galleons." Derrick said sceptically, "For risk of expulsion and possibly even Azkaban. Get real."
"It'd be considered a sports accident - people get killed in professional Quidditch on average once a year." I said, "And when they examine the body, they'll be glad he's dead."
"What do you know, Malfoy?" Bole asked suspiciously.
"Enough to know we'll all be better off without Quirrell." I said, trying not to give too much away.
Derrick gave me a searching look, as if he was trying to read my mind, with no success. "I don't trust you."
Bole, on the other hand. "Make it fifty, and I'll have a shot." he said, smirking, "But full payment in advance, and no refunds."
"No way." I said, "You get paid for eliminating him, not taking a shot at him. And only after you succeed."
"You are really pushing it, Malfoy." Bole informed me.
"I'm not doing this." Derrick said, "But I'll not rat you out, if you do manage to kill him." with that, he left.
"Well?" I asked, looking to Bole.
"Fifty?"
"Fine." I said, nodding, "But only after you crack his skull. I want a head-shot."
"I'll try my best." Bole said, grinning, "Just tell me why you want him dead?"
"You don't want to know." I answered.
Bole gave me a curious look, "You're only a first year, and you're already paying to have people killed off? You've got some nerve, kid," he said, with a smirk, "You got a deal."
"Deal." I replied, and we shook on it.
* * *
And so to the match. Slytherin vs Ravenclaw. I got myself a good seat, with a view of the teachers' box. There were only four teachers up there - Snape, Quirrell, McGonagall, and Flitwick. Bole better have good aim - Snape is my favourite teacher. I settled in my seat, and grinned. This would be worth five hundred Galleons, if Bole pulls it off, and he only managed to haggle it up to fifty. Then again, he doesn't know the significance of who he's been hired to kill.
Cat, Blaise, and Theo arrived, and claimed the seats to my left. "Hey." I said, by way of greeting, "Theo, I talked to the Beaters."
"You did?" Theo asked, stunned, "I was only joking, when I said that - you do realise that?"
"I know you were only kidding, but I liked the idea." I said, smirking.
"Well?" Theo asked.
"Bole's going to take a shot at him. If he gets a kill, he gets fifty Galleons." I said, watching Quirrell with an evil glint in my eyes - I had no mirror present, but I know when I've got that evil look.
"Fifty Galleons?!" all three of them repeated, stunned.
"How much would you pay, for someone to knock off Evil-Incarnate-Wannabie?" I asked.
"More than that." Cat said, "You got yourself a good deal."
Blaise simply nodded, but Theo gawped at me, "Fifty Galleons! Gods, he's a sell-out. I'm surprised you could buy a kill that cheap ... even if he didn't know who his target really is."
I shrugged, but the conversation stopped abruptly, when Pansy parked herself in the seat to my right. "Hi, Drackey." I do wish she would stop calling me that. Wonder if I could get a contract taken out on her, too.
"Hi, Pans." I replied, "Please don't call me that."
Pansy pouted, but didn't say anything else.
We all turned our attention to air above, as the game commenced.
Right away, Ravenclaw took the Quaffle, and set about confusing our Chasers. I was more interested in watching the Seekers and Beaters. Derrick was flying lower, protecting the Chasers, while Bole had flown up to Higgs, and whacked a Bludger away from him. Higgs was still circling too low and too tightly - I was so going to get on the team, next year. Bole maintained his altitude, giving the impression of protecting the Seeker. Which is a good idea, considering rule number one in the Beater's Bible is 'take out the Seeker'. And he got a couple of good shots at the Ravens' Seeker, too.
Twenty minutes later, and I was getting bored. Ravens were ahead on points, but not by too much. Higgs was looking useless ... but I hadn't spotted the Snitch yet either, so I couldn't complain. Bole was still on Seeker patrol. And as soon as I looked away, a huge gasp of shock erupted from the audience. I looked back up to see Bole hovering near the teachers' box.
"And Slytherin Beater, Bole, deflected a Bludger straight into the teachers' box. Nearly took Quirrell's be-turbaned head off," the commentator announced. Nearly - important word - NEARLY. Damn. "The Bludger's gone back to the game, now - and I think Quirrell is throwing an epileptic fit." that sounded good. See if he falls out of the box. "No. He's fine. Well, it looks like DADA class isn't gonna be cancelled, folks."
Bugger. Shit. Damn. Crap. Hell. And any other swear-words that I can't think of right now, as well.
The Evil-Git lives. I'll bet Bole will want paid, anyway. Well sod that - we had a deal - dead Quirrell or no payment.
"So much for that." Theo muttered to me. I nodded, and resumed my vigil on the Seekers. The Ravens' Seeker dived first, but Higgs spotted her and plummeted after her. She was not riding a Nimbus 2000, so Higgs actually had time to overtake her.
We won!!
We won the Quidditch match, anyway. Shame the homicide attempt failed, though.
* * *
I was now sulking. I wish I'd seen exactly what had happened. Either Quirrell dodged/ducked, or Bole missed. Either way, I was in a seriously bad mood, when I returned to the dorm.
"And what are you two up to?" I asked, as I stalked into the room, to see Crabbe and Goyle bent over a piece of parchment.
"Reading." Crabbe answered.
"I didn't know you could read." I said immediately.
They didn't realise that I was joking, and Goyle said, "Yes, we can."
"Anything that doesn't have cardboard pages, three words to a page, and a guarantee that it's non-poisonous if chewed?" I asked.
Again, they didn't get it. "We're planning an attack on the Gryffindors." Crabbe said dully.
"Like what?" I asked, joining them and looking over Goyle's shoulder at the page. "This'll never work, but I'm surprised you two came up with such a good idea, on your own." I said, looking at the map of the school dungeons, covered in their scrawled plans to spike the pumpkin juice on the Gryffindor table with a laughing potion.
"What'd we get wrong?" Goyle asked, looking up at me stupidly.
"You need to spike the juice after it's been divided into the four tables, otherwise we'll all get a dose." I said, re-reading their roughly scrawled notes. "And I'd advise against just walking into the kitchens, without a diversion. The house elves wouldn't let Slytherins near the Gryffindors' food, anymore than they'd let the Gryffindors near ours. Vermin, they may be, but they're not stupid."
They both had blank looks.
"Keep trying." I said, smirking, "You might actually do something right, by yourselves, for once." It would be good to teach them to have a mind of their own, for a change. It'd mean I could distance myself from them, a bit. I don't like the way they talk about the Dark Times, like it was a great and wonderful thing ... war, destruction, terror, people killing people ... that's not usually considered good, by any stretch of the imagination.
And unless someone catches on to Quirrell, there's a real chance that it could happen again. I was very happy to live after the Dark Times ended, and I don't want to see them return. I don't want to see Him return.
* * *
End of chapter 7
