Chapter Seven: Charms, Potions, and a Befuddled Broom

Waking very early the next morning, I dressed in my green Slytherin robes and headed up a spiral staircase to the common room. To my surprise, Viola Trikkit was already sitting in front of the fire. Holding a book in one hand and a wand in the other, she searched through the giant tome, mumbling various spells as she found them. Then, she would stop to think, and after a moment start shaking her head and flipping pages again.

I approached cautiously, and said, "Good morning, Viola." She turned quickly in her chair; obviously, she had been so engrossed in her reading that my arrival had gone unnoticed.

"Oh, it's just you," she said with relief. "You're...Pansy, right?"

I shook my head. "Andromeda. Andromeda Zænidh." The prefect nodded, looking at me carefully.

"Andromeda...Andromeda...," she said aloud, as if getting used to saying my name. "Do you go by your full name, or shorten it to 'Andy' or something? Or should I call you Zænidh?" Thankfully, she pronounced it correctly this time.

"It's 'Andromeda' between friends," I answered.

The fifth year grinned. "Well, Andromeda, nothing personal, but please don't call me Viola. It's supposed to be beautiful and all, but in my eyes, it sounds like people are comparing me to a cello! I prefer my last name." After a good laugh, I asked what she was reading.

"Oh, this...well, it's the Standard Book of Spells: Level 6. I'm trying to get a head start on learning these charms. They can be rather fun you know! Take this one for example: the Spelling Spell. It enchants a quill to correct your spelling errors. Problem is, you would still have to write out the entire parchment over again once it's done correcting, and it doesn't know the difference between 'night' and 'knight,' but, hey, what do you expect from a feather?"

I chuckled. "Sounds great!"

Then Trikkit's mouth twisted into a mischievous smirk. "Actually (just between us girls) I was looking for a Sweetheart Charm, or an Infatuation Incantation, or even a...well, I don't know." My raised eyebrows begged her to continue. "Okay, it's like this: there's this guy...that I really like...and he just doesn't seem to notice me. So this year, I decided to take action. Trouble is, most magic of that sort is a potion, and Love Potions are strictly banned at Hogwarts. Not that that would stop me, but, y'know, being a prefect..."

I shrugged dismissively. "Well, good luck." By then, the other Slytherins had begun to gather in the common room. Draco entered, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Good morning, Andromeda. Care to accompany me to breakfast?" he asked politely.

"Sure," I replied. "But, uh, do they ever talk?" I asked, referring to the two dull-looking boys on either side of him.

Draco snorted. "Oh, them? Nah, not much. Besides, if they do talk, it's never anything worth hearing. You remember that from meeting them on the train, right?"

I remembered, but I was still puzzled. "Then why are they always around you? I mean, you must talk to them sometimes."

"I don't talk to them," the blonde boy drawled. "I talk at them. They're only around to 'protect' me. Mother is very concerned with my, ah, well-being. It's rather irritating at times. But I got used to Crabbe and Goyle here, didn't I?" Draco paused to allow them to answer. Neither said a word. In fact, not even their eyes moved.

"DIDN'T I?" Draco shouted, waving his hands inches from their noses.

"Huh! Wha?" was the only response. Draco seemed disgusted and infuriated beyond words. Fortunately, it was time to start off for the Great Hall for breakfast, which calmed him down a bit.

When we got there, Draco asked me to sit across from him. Then he presented an unusual question. "Andromeda, which of these lazy clots is uglier?" I was somewhat taken aback.

"Uh...that one?" I replied uncertainly, pointing to the...uglier...of the two.

"That's Crabbe," he stated. "He can sit next to you. That way, you don't have to look at him."

This logic seemed odd to me, but I supposed it would work. After all, Draco had been putting up with his bodyguards for who knows how long, so he must have developed a decent system by now. As we were eating, the Head of Slytherin House passed out class schedules. He was a tall, imposing man with greasy black hair and an ashen face. I recognized him from the picture in my potions book, and this time I was sure he was Professor Snape. Hard eyes flicked from right to left as he walked, absolutely daring someone to wish him a good day.

"Ah, another Zænidh," he said slowly as he handed me a schedule. "I assume you are related to...Mark and Ira Zænidh?"

"Yes, sir, they're my cousins," I answered. "Also Slytherins, right?"

"Let us hope that you can live up to it," he enunciated crisply. Then he noticed Draco. For an instant, his eyes flashed coldly, but he smiled quickly to hide it. "And another Malfoy?" Draco grinned. "Yes, Lucius's son, at Hogwarts...you look just like him. Your father was a great man." Draco swelled with pride, but I couldn't help noticing that Professor Snape had spoken of Lucius Malfoy in the past tense. Had Draco's father passed away? I couldn't remember him mentioning anything about his father, only his mother...and I didn't want to ask about it. At the moment, I felt very thankful to have two living parents.

Professor Snape handed him, Crabbe, and Goyle their schedules, then continued on down the table. Across from me, I heard Draco groan loudly. "Double Potions with the Gryffindors! Of all the classes for them to ruin, why Potions?" I was about to say that Gryffindors weren't all that bad, when I remembered Draco's scuffle with Potter and his friend Ron. I groaned as well.

"At least Professor Snape is the teacher," I said, trying to find some good news. "I bet he doesn't like Gryffindors much...he didn't even look too friendly with the Slytherins, his own House! Maybe he'll do us a favor and take a load of points away from them."

At this, Draco brightened. "Brilliant! Snape would sooner eat his own wand than let another House beat Slytherin, from what I've heard. So maybe it won't be that bad after all...as long as Snape keeps up with his favoritism. We'll make sure he does," he added in a low voice, his grey eyes flickering.

Just then, about a hundred owls fluttered into the Great Hall, bringing the morning mail. A magnificent eagle owl swooped down over Draco, dropping an enormous parcel into his hands. "It's from home!" he said excitedly, probably because he recognized the owl. Tearing open the brown paper package at its corner, he suddenly stopped. "Wait...I bet it's a ton of sweets. And since I don't feel like sharing with the whole House..." We exchanged a conspiratorial grin.

"It can wait," I finished smoothly for him. "Now then, what class do we have first? History of Magic! Father said it was awful. I wonder why."

Soon we found out. Apparently, Professor Binns had been bored to death some years ago, and had returned as a ghost to inflict the same torture on everyone else. He didn't even bother to say good morning; as soon as we entered the room, he launched into a monotonous lecture about a goblin revolt. It was all I could do to keep from throwing my quill at him like a dart (which I suspected wouldn't have hurt him much anyway, being insubstantial).

That afternoon we had a Transfiguration lesson, in which Professor McGonagall told us about the many uses and dangers of the particular branch of magic. "You are not to Transfigure anything unless I tell you to," she warned sternly. "And, no, we are not covering human Transfigurations until your fifth year." Sighs of disappointment came from around the room. Felon ducked under a table and wouldn't come out until she was sure that I wouldn't turn her into a tablecloth (at least, not that day).

When the bell rang for the end of class, McGonagall took me aside. Draco waited impatiently just outside the door. "I remember your sisters, Libra and Gemini...both in Gryffindor, if I remember correctly?" I nodded, not quite sure what this was leading up to. "Wonderful students. I would just like to say...that I hope you follow in their footsteps. That is all. You may go now."

Follow in their footsteps? What was that supposed to mean? I gathered my books and marched straight out of the room, hoping she wouldn't change her mind and decide to say something else creepy. It was too similar to Professor Snape's earlier comment for my liking.

Draco thought I was in trouble. "What did she want with you? You can't have done anything to displease McGonagall already." I shook my head and laughed.

"No, she wasn't telling me off," I explained, then hesitated. I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell him what McGonagall had said; after all, why would she bother to tell a Slytherin to follow in the path of a Gryffindor, even if they were sisters? Especially if they were sisters. Draco waited for the rest of my answer.

"She was...telling me she remembered some of my relatives, from a few years ago." It was true, and it seemed to satisfy Draco.

"Good!" he said firmly. "Because I'm not letting any of the teachers push me around, and you shouldn't either. Even if you get in trouble, never admit that it's your fault. That's what Father always told me," he drawled.

I nodded, but didn't answer. His father always told him...but how long ago? At least I now knew that he wasn't sensitive about the subject, but I still wasn't too keen on bringing it up myself.

As the week passed, we attended the rest of our classes. In Charms, Carol Adett succeeded in shooting the best moon-shaped sparks out of her wand, earning ten points for Slytherin. Herbology with the Ravenclaws was a minor disaster; Troy sneezed violently while carrying a giant watering can, splashing most of its contents onto Professor Sprout. Luckily, she dried up her robes with a charm and didn't take points from Slytherin.

Astronomy class was fun, especially because I already knew most of the constellations. With a name like Andromeda Zænidh, how couldn't I? Draco made sure to point out "his" constellation to the rest of the class, as well as "mine." However, I'm not sure anyone listened, because the lesson was late at night, and more than a few Slytherins could be heard snoring. Even Felon dozed through class. In fact, the only person on the North Tower who looked to be awake was Professor Sinistra, and throughout the hour, she was constantly sipping from a giant mug of coffee.

I met Professor Quirrell once again in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Poor man...it took him nearly twenty minutes to call roll, and by the end of it, most of the class was in fits of laughter. When Draco saw that I wasn't even chuckling, he smacked Goyle and Crabbe sharply upside the head and told them to shut up, or else.

Unarguably, though, the most exciting class was Flying Lessons with Madam Hooch. The grey-haired, golden-eyed professor led the Slytherin and Gryffindor first years to a wide, empty lawn on the castle grounds. My cat took one look at the twenty broomsticks already waiting for us, and bolted back into the castle.

"Wow," I breathed, "I've never flown on a broomstick before. Father won't let me have one. Not even Mother could talk him into it, and she was a Chaser for Ravenclaw. He says they're dangerous."

Draco's grey eyes widened as if I had suddenly confessed a fear of oxygen. "Dangerous? Rubbish! I've been flying since before I could talk, and I never got hurt. Goyle on the other hand...oh, but, he's just stupid, you'll do better than him." Somehow, this gave me very little encouragement.

"Be quiet and listen up!" Madam Hooch shouted, silencing the group. "Or you might just break your neck when you try to fly. Now, then...everyone, take a place beside a broom, on it's left side. Hold your hand above it, and say 'Up!' Put some feeling into it!" I held out my hand, but decided to watch Draco before trying for myself.

"Up!" he said confidently, almost smugly. His broom jumped off the ground and into his hand, where it hovered restlessly. I noticed that Potter's and Chloe Simmons's brooms had also cooperated quiet nicely, but most of the class was having difficulties. I glanced down at my broom again.

"Well," I thought, "it's not going to move on its own."

I took a deep breath. "Up!" I commanded. The broom twitched slightly. "Up!" It rolled over. "Up!" It beat its end against the ground, as if throwing a tantrum. "UP! UP! UP! UP!" I finally shouted, each word spoken with more authority than the last. People were starting to look at me oddly. Perversely, my broom refused to move at all.

Giving up, I rolled my eyes and grumbled sarcastically, "Fine, have it your way. Down!" Immediately, the broomstick shot off the ground, nearly breaking my wrist with its speedy ascent. Apparently, it was a bit, well, backwards. Madam Hooch started laughing.

"Oh, yes, I forgot about that one...the Befuddled Broom. I was going to replace it, but then I couldn't remember which one it was. Well, it's not a problem anymore, I see," the flying instructor said cheerfully. "Now, everyone, mount your brooms, and when I blow my whistle, lift slowly off the ground, hover for a moment, and touch back down again. Three, two..." But Neville had already left the ground; he looked terrified.

Madam Hooch yelled to him, "Stop! Mr. Longbottom, get back down here! Mr. Longbottom!!" Longbottom appeared to have no control whatsoever over his broom, and flew higher into the air, looking like he was about to be sick. Madam Hooch tried to help him, but he fell off of his broom in the middle of a loop-de-loop, and landed on the grass with a sickening crunch.

"Oh, dear," the instructor said, after helping him up, "Longbottom's broken his arm. I'm taking him to Madam Pomfrey, and if anyone so much as leaves the ground while I'm away, they will be expelled, faster than you can say 'Quidditch.'" Her golden eyes glared at the class, then she headed off for the castle, supporting a very faint-looking Longbottom.

Everyone started talking in hushed voices. Draco strode out onto the field and picked something up off of the ground. It was a small orb filled with white smoke. "Ha!" he said, returning to the group. "It's Longbottom's Rememberall. Perhaps if the lump had given this a squeeze, he'd have remembered not to break his fat arm. Andromeda, d'you think I should...take it to him?" he asked meaningfully.

Not feeling very sorry for Longbottom (after all, it must have been his own fault that he fell), I chortled and replied, "Why not? I bet he's looking for it."

Several Gryffindors looked uneasy, but no one said anything...no one, except for one person. Who just had to speak up but Harry Potter?

To Be Continued...

stargazing aster: thanks for pointing out to me that Professor Sinistra is probably a woman. I don't think there's any conclusive evidence, but there is good reasoning behind it. :^)

Disclaimer: I own Andromeda, Mark, Ira, and the other Zænidhs, Felon, Trikkit, Aurvail, Troy, the Sweetheart Charm, the Infatuation Incantation, the Spelling Spell, Adett, and all those original events and conversations. Chloe Simmons belongs to WildMage42, and is being used under the author's permission. Read "Year of the Parselmouth" for Chloe's story (which is very good, I promise). The rest of the characters, etc, belong to J. K. Rowling, blah blah blah....legal stuff....please don't sue me.