CHAPTER SEVEN: OF QUARRELS & QUIDDITCH

'Truth' can be defined as verifiable, indisputable fact. When someone displays truth, they can be considered honest and respectable. But some people do not really want that. Or rather, they do not really care what certain people think and therefore do not strive to be honest or respectable. For their own reasons, they prefer to live in ignorance about themselves and about those around them. For people like this, all you can do is be terribly blunt and make them stand in front of the 'truth' until it sinks in. Although it is preferable that they work it out on their own.

But when performing the 'say-hello-to-veracity' ritual, you may come across a very clever person. A person that only pretends to know the truth, or rather believe it. They are 'truth avoiders'.

Draco Malfoy was one of these people. Oh it was true that in the last four months he had had to face some cold, hard truths. Firstly, that his father was a fool for following Voldemort - a man who would never be satisfied with any victory (the world, Draco feared, literally wouldn't be enough). Secondly, he had come to realise that he was a bit of a fool. A fool for following his father.

But this revelation was not the reason Draco had decided to take Salima's offer and come over to the Order. No, it did not mean that Draco cared in the slightest about the people he was now being asked to co-operate with. No, do not be mistaken. Draco Malfoy was not completely reformed. He had not woken up one morning and "seen the light." He was still cruel, arrogant and sly. He was just all those things … on the other side. And this meant he had to change the exterior of his disposition. He did not have to be friendly or kind or even civil. He just had to be bearable. And that was not going to be easy with people like Potter and the Weasley's involved.

Those were the truths that Draco was able to admit. But there was a few that had been knocking politely at the door asking for entrance into his conscience (which Draco was shocked to find he had) but were being promptly asked to piss off.

Dumbledore, under Salima's watchful eye, had questioned Draco thoroughly before allowing him to be present in that Order meeting. Draco had not lied. Dumbledore was satisfied. But the fact of the matter is – Dumbledore didn't ask the right questions. Well Draco didn't think so anyway.

He asked if Draco was loyal to Voldemort? (No he wasn't. He'd changed his mind about that.)

Was he loyal to Lucius? (Nup. Changed his mind about that too.)

But Dumbledore never asked how he felt about his friends or about their parents or about his mother. Draco did not want to be a Death Eater, but there was no way he was going to kill any of the people he liked or respected (even if there were a very little number of them) for Dumbledore or Potter. Especially not for Potter.

Dumbledore had not asked him if he liked Muggles or Mudbloods. (Hadn't changed his mind about that one.)

Dumbledore hadn't asked him how he felt about Potter? (Detested the brainless sod.)

No, Dumbledore did not ask these important questions, so Draco did not tell. He had pointed all this out to Salima but she just got that shrewd look on her face and said "Dumbledore knows all he needs too, the man understands more than you think he does about you."

Whatever.

In many ways, Draco was not quite sure why he was fighting - or at least talking about fighting - for the Order. But he knew that because of who he was and because of what he was becoming - well he figured he had a better shot at staying alive fighting for Dumbledore than for Voldemort. At least the old man did not turn on his own. And that was pretty much all Draco cared about at this stage, staying alive.

"Oh, Draco!"

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the shrill voice of Pansy Parkinson. "We were so worried! We thought your father had come and got you at first so we weren't concerned, but then Daddy said you were missing! Have you really been hiding in Marrakech all this time? Why?"

Draco Malfoy swallowed the piece of potato that had been sitting in his throat rather uneasily before rolling his eyes and drawling out, "I thought my father would hide there when he escaped Azkaban, what with the Ministry going completely mad and conducting raids left right and center. I told you all this already. I waited at Baraga Grotto and he didn't come, so I left. And now I'm here and my father will no doubt be owling me as we speak so can we please drop it."

Draco was glad to be back at Hogwarts and back with his friends. But he was very worried about the inevitable meeting with his father that would be fast approaching, and said worry was making him irritable. He didn't know how much he could keep from his father. He wasn't Snape. And unlike Dumbledore, Lucius would ask those important questions.

"What exactly is Baraga Grotto?" asked Pansy Parkinson in a whiny voice.

"Our Moroccan Headquarters you idiot," answered Draco petulantly. "And do you want to lower your voice a bit?"

"I know that, thank you!" Pansy hissed. "I meant what is it like?"

"Like all the other ones, but hotter."

"And? What else? I haven't seen any yet. Daddy said I can't join 'till I'm finished here," Pansy said this miserably – as though it was a very big loss. Draco felt like smacking her across the head for being so stupid. Being a Death Eater wasn't all it was rapped up to be. He rubbed his arm softly. They were calling him; they had been for a few days now. He was having trouble hiding how much it hurt, and he knew when he showered that night, it would be red raw.

"Stop talking about all that stuff," said Blaise Zabini. "Let's just be thankful he's back, Pans. Seriously Draco – with you gone, bloody Weasel and the Boy-Who-Will-Not-Die have been lording it up in this place something chronic-"

This change in conversation did not particularly interest Draco either. He was sick of hearing about sodding Potter and all that was wrong with said Scarhead. Draco spent far too much time with him as it was – talking about him all the time on top of this was surely not good for his digestive system. Plus, it was getting hard to think up wonderful and horrific ways to cause grievous injury to him after six years. And the truth was; he didn't really want to. Not for affable reasons, but perhaps for mature reasons.

"You guys are boring, I'm going to bed," declared Draco.

"Oh, alright, I'll come with you," said Blaise and he continued on his rant about Harry 'Bloody' Potter and his band of do-gooders right out to the Great Hall.

Draco was over it.

He needed to sleep. All the truth avoiding was hard work, and he was beginning to get a little worried. The knocks at the door of his conscience were getting a little more persistent.


"Christ, look who's back," said Ron, irritably. "Got Daddy's orders and ran on back here. I 'spose it was too much to ask that he just fall off a cliff and die."

"Yes, that was a bit much to ask," said Harry laughing. He had not told Ron or Hermione about Malfoy's dramatic change of heart. He wasn't sure how they would react to this bit of information. Plus, it hadn't really hit him yet.

"Just a really steep hill next time then?" said Ron hopefully.

Harry nodded his head, "Yes, Ron. A very steep hill."

"Don't patronise me," said Ron.

"Yes, Ron."

Harry got punch in the arm for that.

They were eating second helpings of pudding at the Gryffindor table on a Sunday night. Harry hated Sunday nights – the rest of the week and all the work he had to do always seemed to loom a little more sinisterly on Sunday nights. He couldn't imagine why.

"I'm so glad this day is over! Sunday's are the worst," said Hermione. "No classes!"

"Yes, Hermione," said Ron. "No classes."

Hermione scowled but Harry laughed.

"You two better do the rest of your homework tonight," Hermione lectured. "Quidditch really isn't an excuse, you know. And either is your training Harry. You had plenty of time yesterday."

"Did not!" Harry protested. "DA meeting member?"

"Yeah, and Quidditch is an excuse," said Ron. "The cause and effect excuse. Quidditch Practice is the cause; no homework done is the effect."

More scowling ensued.

"Snape gave us an essay on Unicorn's Blood to do," Harry groaned getting up from the table. "I hate him with a passion."

"I'll come with you. Still have to write up that report on 'Why Tarot Reading Is Pointless & We Would Do Better To Play Snap With The Cards' for Firenze." Ron stood up and followed him. Hermione stayed to talk to Ginny who was still, obstinately, avoiding Harry.

To signify the truth of Harry's previous statement about hating Snape with a passion, he made signs behind the Professor's back whilst Ron whispered furiously "I keel you, I keel you!" when Snape swooped passed them as they exited the Great Hall.

It was as they were walking up to the third floor landing that they heard it. High pitched cries and what sounded like Peeves the Poltergeist dropping filing cabinets from great heights. The racket was coming from the big Charms class room down the hall.

"What on Earth..?" said Ron.

They looked at each other and ran for the door.

It was utter havoc. Spells were flying everywhere and none of them were pleasant. The room was full of, mainly third year, Gryffindors and Slytherins.

Harry and Ron stepped in between them and started blocking the spells best they could whilst trying to get them to stop fighting. Ron kept trying to flash his Prefect badge ("I'll start taking points! Hey watch it you evil little midget!"). But this fight had obviously gone beyond house points. Beyond Hogwarts. This was about Voldemort.

The class room door swung open and Harry hoped it would be a teacher – even Snape. He was getting little nips on his hands from the Slytherins that had forgotten about the third year Gryffindors and were aiming at him instead. But it wasn't Snape; it was Malfoy with Blaise Zabini at his heels.

The two Slytherins stood at the door for a moment taking in the scene around them, unnoticed by Ron who in frustration had just begun stunning the young Slytherins.

Harry could hear the third year Gryffindors behind him screaming, "Yes, yes! Get the Death Eaters!"

Blaise Zabini's face contorted with fury.

All of a sudden Ron fell to the floor and began sprouting what looked like antlers all over his body. Harry turned to the entrance and without thinking threw a binding spell on Zabini. Without his wand. In fact, without actually saying the spell.

Everyone stopped. The third years nervously stared between the two remaining sixth years. They were expecting a real brawl now. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were protective of their friends. And their friends were currently sprawled on the floor. And I just performed wandless magic, thought Harry, yay?

This was what Harry did. He fought for his own – especially against people like Malfoy. Only now things had changed. Harry didn't want to. He wasn't sure why. Maybe because all he ever did was fight with people, and maybe he wanted to scratch Malfoy off his list. Whatever thoughts Harry was having of truce, however, were not shared by Malfoy who started taking out his wand.

"Let's see what all the fuss is about, huh, Potter? Let's see if your mum really did die in vain like He said she did," Malfoy drawled this out indifferently - but his eyes shone with malice.

Harry felt his rage boil up inside him. And in that moment Harry felt like an idiot for ever thinking that Malfoy could have rehabilitated his nasty nature. It seemed Slytherin still had their Ice Prince after all.

"Impedimenta!" shouted Malfoy.

Harry threw up his shield as several more people came into the class room and he and Malfoy were pushed to the centre of the room, circling around each other.

"Your turn Potter," Malfoy said. His face craftily blank, minus his eyes that were still filled with malevolence.

"Individigo!" This particular curse, Sirius had taught him. It gave the receiver the feeling of being spilt in two, and sure enough, Malfoy began shaking violently, his lips pursed trying to hold in a scream.

Malfoy managed to control the pain long enough to mutter, "Finte Incantatem!"

He stopped shaking and looked at Harry with absolute loathing. He raised his wand to send another curse, but then Harry had an idea. "Serpensortia!"

Malfoy stopped in his tracks as a full grown boa constrictor dropped heavily out of Harry's wand. It was so big it took a few seconds to drop down. Malfoy became wide eyed and looked at Harry with the same loathing and possibly, a little fear.

"See how you like it," said Harry, grinning nastily.

Go to him, Harry talked to the constrictor in Parseltongue. Pretend you're going to attack him, but don't. Go on!

The snake slithered over to Malfoy who had gone a shade whiter than his already pale complexion. "You'll pay for this Potter!"

The snake made a snap for Malfoy's robes, "Sh-iitt!" Malfoy shouted. And he jumped up onto the window ledge.

Keep going, urged Harry. Keep playing!

The constrictor followed Malfoy and raised itself on to its middle. Malfoy was almost gibbering.

"What's going on in here!" Professor Snape ran in.

Finally! Harry thought.

Snape looked from Malfoy, to Harry, to the boa constrictor that Harry was quietly hushing down. "Everyone to their dormitories now!"

Harry looked at the snake and winked at it before pulling out his wand and getting rid of it. "What on Earth are you two doing!" started Snape once the room was clear. "Fifty points from Gr-"

"What's going on? What's happening?" Professor McGonagall came storming in. Harry, who had long ago given up on defending himself to Snape turned to McGonagall.

"Ron and I were going to our dormitory," Harry pointed at Ron who was on the floor still, forgotten in the rush to get out of the room. He now looked like a human tree – minus the leaves. McGonagall quickly muttered the counter curse and Ron sluggishly began getting up. "We heard screaming and banging coming from in here. It was a bunch of third years fighting."

"He's telling the truth Professor. The third years were dueling," Ron said listlessly.

"So what? You thought you'd join the fun!" said Professor Snape.

"No!" said Harry.

"We tried to break them up, but they wouldn't stop so I started stunning them. Then these two came and that idiot-" Ron said motioning towards Zabini "- attacked me. So Harry binded him. No doubt to stop him from doing it to anyone else, right Harry?"

"Of course," said Harry. Malfoy snorted.

"And so you set a boa constrictor on Mr. Malfoy who, it appears, has done nothing!" bellowed Professor Snape. He seemed desperate to get Harry in trouble.

Harry rolled his eyes at Snape which only infuriated the Potions Master more.

"I think-"

"Professor Snape," said McGonagall loudly. "Perhaps Mr. Weasley and Mr. Zabini can inform you of the students that they know were involved in the fight." She released Blaise from his body bind.

Snape didn't look up for that at all, but Professor McGonagall's lips had become very thin – which was never a good sign. So he went out quietly followed by Ron who was looking on curiously. Zabini closed the door behind them – but not before throwing a sneer at Harry.

McGonagall glared at Harry and Malfoy furiously, "Explain yourselves."

Harry did not say anything, Malfoy didn't either.

"Mr. Potter?"

He sighed tiredly, "I'm sorry Professor."

"That is not an explanation. You will both receive detentions for this, and twenty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin … quarrelling like children! A fine example you're setting for the younger students!"

"Detention? Please Professor, we have Quidditch Practice every night – the Interschool Tournament is next week!" Harry pleaded.

Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared, "You should have thought about the Tournament before you decided to duel in the middle of the first year's Charms room!"

"We weren't dueling! Not really," said Harry.

"Oh really, what other explanation is there for the wands and such?" Professor McGonagall said tartly.

Harry looked frantically at Malfoy. Did he want detention or something?

Malfoy did not say anything.

"Yes, that's what I thought," said McGonagall. "I will see you tomorrow about your detentions; you can clean this mess up and then get to your common rooms."

She left with a resounding thud as the door slammed shut. Harry flicked around to glare at Malfoy, "You started this! Well!"

Malfoy smirked and headed for the door. "I make a point of never explaining. Well not anymore anyway."

"What! Why!"

"Your friends do not need an explanation, and your enemies will not believe you anyway," he opened the door to leave.

"Oh, and what am I! Three guesses!" said Harry sarcastically.

Malfoy closed the door behind him and said, "We'll see."


On Wednesday evening, Harry went down to the Quidditch pitch with Ron. He was looking forward to flying before his meeting with Dumbledore later on - when he would find out if he would be helping the Order retrieve Daniel Buoy or not. His stomach churned a little, and he started a conversation with Ron about the Chudley Canon's chances of winning the cup this year in order to occupy his mind.

"Alright everyone," Miss Snape began when everyone was present (except Malfoy who Harry had sent to the Hospital Wing in ADADA after Malfoy made another slur about his mother). "The Tournament is very close. I received an owl today informing me that it will be held at Montmorency Secondary College for Witches. And from what I can tell, they are going to be our only challenge. They live for Quidditch at that school."

"An all girl's school?" Terry Boot asked.

"Witch generally implies females," said Katie.

"Where is it?" asked Ginny.

"The heart of London," said Miss Snape. "But that's not important, all that matters is we win so we can go on to Zone level."

"Shouldn't all that matter be that we have fun?" asked Harry laughing.

"No, if you lose I'm never coaching you again."

Everyone laughed heartily.

"Marvelous, now get up there and show me why you're the best school team in Great Britain!" ordered Miss Snape.

Harry was flying high, trying to spot the Snitch before Zacharias did. It wasn't exactly great conditions for Quidditch. Winter had just begun and it was frightfully cold. He looked up at the sky; it looked like there was a rain cloud full of thunder and lightning heading there way.

Half an hour later, the Snitch was still no where to be found and it had began raining rather heavily. The cloud had almost reached them. Harry thought it looked rather peculiar. He had never seen the sky do anything like that before. The cloud appeared to be moving quickly towards them. Miss Snape must have been thinking along the same lines as she asked them if they wanted to go inside but Katie said no, "We need to get this right!"

The Chasers had been running systems rather unsuccessfully. Ginny wasn't throwing the quaffle hard, or far enough (Harry thought she looked a little peaky), and Terry Boot seemed more interested in tackling whoever had the quaffle ("I'm practicing!").

Miss Snape nodded her head, but looked at the rain cloud uncertainly.

So they stayed out and Harry continued searching for the Snitch alone (Zacharias kept trying to give suggestions to the Chasers who were not very receptive to his opinions).

Ten minutes later, it was barreling down and thunder and lightning were surrounding them. It was almost like the lightning was aiming for them. But that can't be right, thought Harry. Miss Snape told them that was enough and that they had to go back in the castle now. Harry was very grateful and began coming down when all of a sudden there was a flash and a crack of lightning followed by a high pitched scream.

Ginny began falling to the ground, her broom, it appeared, had been struck by the lightning. She kept falling and falling, she had been up higher than Harry! He pushed his Firebolt forward and it began accelerating quickly towards her. He managed to get underneath her just before she hit the ground. He held her for about two seconds until she slipped off his broom and fell the last two metres to the ground. Harry quickly got off his broom and knelt over her.

"Ginny? Ginny?" Harry shouted fearfully. She was not moving.

The rest of the team came running over and Miss Snape had Ginny's broken and scorched broom in her hand. Miss Snape bent over Ginny and took one look at her before saying, "She's unconscious. We've got to get her up to the Hospital Wing. Harry you take her, Weasley, take their brooms and get back to Gryffindor Tower-"

"But she's my sis-" Ron began.

"Go! Now! All of you! Get back in your rooms!" Miss Snape shouted with so much authority that they instantly began sprinting up to the castle. Harry heaved Ginny up in his arms. She wasn't as light as she looked.

Miss Snape remounted her own broom and started flying up in the sky. Harry kept sprinting as best he could with Ginny in his arms and so did not see what Miss Snape was doing.

At last he reached the castle and took a minute to catch his breath. It seemed everyone was in their dormitories as there was no one around. Harry looked at Ginny; she was ghostly white and still wasn't moving. Harry hurried towards the Hospital Wing, nearly dropping her several times.

He finally scrambled in and dropped Ginny on the nearest bed. He saw the bed in the far corner with the curtains closed around it. Malfoy.

"Madam Pomfrey!" he shouted.

She came hurrying out of her office, "What's going – oh my!" Madame Pomfrey took one look at Ginny and ran over to her bed.

"What happened?" she asked.

Harry was completely out of breath, "Lightning - came – hit her – broom – I caught her before – she – fell."

"Lightning?" Pomfrey asked. "But there isn't a storm?"

Harry looked out the window and saw that it was dark and cloudy, but there was no storm. The Quidditch pitch was on the other side of the castle, but it wasn't that far away! Harry didn't understand this at all.

"Very well," Pomfrey said, whilst holding a strange looking vial under Ginny's nose. "Go on; get up to your dormitory."

"But – will she be okay?" Harry asked, frowning worriedly.

"Yes, all though she'll be in here for a while," said Madame Pomfrey gravely. Harry noticed Ginny stirring. "Go on, get going!"

Harry trudged out but was positive he heard Ginny groan out his name as he closed the door behind him.


Wormtail looked around him. At the Dark Lord's Inner Circle. There was Crabbe and Goyle Senior, Macnair and the Dark Lord's favorites, Lucius and Bellatrix. The others in the room were below his rank, and so did not matter to him.

"My faithful Death Eaters," Wormtail tried to hide his jump of fright at hearing his master's voice into a casual dusting of his robes. "The time is coming nearer. The time when we will have what we need to achieve victory, to gain control of the wizarding world, and in turn, control of the muggle world. All that remains is … recruitment."

Wormtail gulped loudly.

"I have made the plans, we will not fail," said the Dark Lord. "Unless we are betrayed. And so, I put it to you my faithful fighters, to find those that are not loyal, and have them eradicated immediately. You must get through all wizards and witches alike. All creatures. I need to know who is faithful and who is not. Until such time, you will be privy to no more information, and you will not have the liberty of telling others what you know. Do I make myself clear?"

There was a murmur of yes. "Very well, you may leave."

Wormtail turned to leave when an Indian man came running in, "My Lord, I beg your forgiveness for intruding but this is urgent!"

Everyone stood still, "You may continue Durehi."

"Thank you my Lord, it's the Cumulus Cloud of Ruin, the one you had us send."

"Yes?"

"It's coming back! I don't know how my Lord, it was there for no more than an hour and it is returning, bigger and more deadly than when we sent it! We can't stop it, my Lord. It's already torn apart half the fields!"

"Someone must have sent it back, Dumbledore no doubt?" said Voldemort. "Although, Dumbledore should not be familiar with such magic. Can they track us with the cloud?"

"I do not think so my Lord, you can send it back, but unless we'd put a tracking device on it to start with, there's no way."

"Very well, I will be with you shortly."

Durehi nodded his head and bowed before rushing out. Lucius Malfoy approached his Lord, "Well, my Lord? Who do you think is responsible if not Dumbledore?"

"I think Lucius, that we have found one of our missing Brethren," said the Dark Lord.

"But wouldn't we have known by now? They haven't changed teachers in years! Except … wait, do you think? But she was nothing when we tried to recruit her," said Lucius.

"I think she is a very good actor, and I think now we know why our little Dragon hasn't been answering our call."


Harry had had to leave the hospital wing straight for Dumbledore's office. He was already ten minutes late for the meeting and as realisation of what sort of conversation would be taking place met him - all thoughts of the strange cloud and Ginny left him. In only a couple of week's time, he could be facing more Death Eaters. He wasn't sure of he was ready for that.

But Dumbledore isn't likely to send us out, is he? thought Harry.

He stopped at the entrance to Dumbledore's office and swallowed nervously. He spoke the password and knocked at the door.

"Come in," Harry heard.

He wiped his feet and opened the door. He was met with a similar scene to the one he had witnessed at the last meeting. Except Malfoy was not there.

"Sit down Harry," Dumbledore said. He sounded worn out to him.

Harry took a seat next to Keiko who acknowledged him with a bow of the head.

"I have had debated this to no ends, and I wish that it could be another way, but alas – some things are just meant to be. Harry, you will accompany the Order in there retrieval of Doctor Daniel Buoy. It will take place two weeks from now, the week after the inter-school Quidditch Tournament," Dumbledore said all this very gravely.

Harry gulped and looked down at his shoes.

"You must learn how we work … how the Order works. For your own safety. Now is the time."

"Yes, Professor," said Harry.

"You will be briefed with the rest of the team Wednesday week, until such time, you will train with Miss Snape every night."

Harry nodded his head, "Yes, Professor."


"Oh my God! Harry! Look at this!" Hermione dropped the Daily Prophet in front of Harry's toast.

Harry looked at the front page and raised his eyebrows.

'FUDGE GONE, RACE FOR NEW MINISTER BEGINS

Yesterday evening Cornelius Fudge stepped down as Minister for Magic blaming age and a desire to spend more time with his family for the move. Many within his department however, are saying that Fudge has been under an excruciating amount of pressure with the return of the Dark Lord and the recent break-in to the Department of Mysteries, and that is in fact the reason.

Either way, the gate is now open for a new Minister and two contenders have emerged in Ophelia O'Connor, a former Healer and Tony Kernahan, part-owner of Gringotts Bank.

For more, pages 3 and 4.'

Ron snorted, "I'd say that I care but you all know that I'd be lying. Good riddance I say."

"No Ron! This isn't good!" Hermione shrieked. "I mean, Fudge might have been a fool, but he was fool that wasn't working for Voldemort!"

"What? Are these two people Death Eaters?" Harry asked, shocked.

"Well … no … I mean, I don't know. But they could be! Oh I hope Dumbledore gets his ear in this," Hermione said.

"He will," said Harry. "He always does."

"I hope you're right," Hermione said. She looked at Ron for reassurance but he had stopped listening.

Hermione hit him on the arm to get his attention, "What!" he said.

"Oh forget it," Hermione threw the Prophet across the table.

"What have you guys got next?" Lavender Brown sat down opposite Hermione.

"Arithmancy."

"Divination."

"Euh … Potions," Harry grumbled.

Lavender laughed, "I've got Care of Magical Creatures, and don't you wish you hadn't dropped that now?"

"Not at all!" Hermione said.

"Very much so," Harry and Ron grumbled in unison.

"Harry!" Dean was tapping him on the shoulder. "Come on, we'll be late."

"Oh wouldn't that be a travesty."


"Shut up MacMillian, no one cares in the slightest about Miss Bones' "lovely hair"."

Ernie went bright red and Snape smiled maliciously.

"Today," Snape began. "We will be doing a very basic Revealing Potion. Why the basic kind? Because Revealing Potions are arguably the most intricate and complicated ever created. Only thirty percent of the Wizarding population can make one – so I'm expecting this to be an eventful lesson."

"Bastard," Harry grumbled.

"He's right actually; they're beyond bloody "intricate"." Dean handed Harry the text book opened to the chapter on Revealing Potions.

"Can anyone tell me the key, and rare, ingredient that creates the base of a Revealing Potion? You should all know as it was your homework to read up on this particular chapter," Snape said.

Harry and Dean were not listening but pouring over the long, complicated list of ingredients.

'Thomas," Dean's head flew up at his name being called. "What is the answer?"

"Umm …"

"I'll repeat the question one last time," Snape said, smiling vindictively. "What is the base ingredient in a Revealing Potion?"

"Oh," Dean sighed, relieved. "The base ingredient is Nymph Hair. Preferably a young Nymph."

Snape frowned, "That is correct."

Harry patted Dean on the back. Snape noticed, "Potter. How many Nymph Hairs? You should know this as it was your homework like I stated before …"

Harry gulped. He had no idea and the last thing he needed was a detention. He barely had enough time to eat a meal.

He looked straight ahead, not daring to look at Dean as he knew that would get them both into trouble should he tell him the answer.

"Umm …" Harry said.

"You did read the homework, I hope?" Snape said quietly. "Punishment for not doing your homework on top of your dismal grades could result in your removal from this class."

Harry looked around the room for some kind of hint – as if it would be there. Everyone was looking at him. His eyes skimmed over Malfoy for a second and then flicked back when Malfoy dropped his hand over his desk. Harry watched on as Malfoy extended three of his fingers without looking at Harry.

"Three," Harry said looking up at Snape. "Three hairs."

Snape growled and tapped his wand angrily on the blackboard, "Get started!"

"Jeez Harry, lucky guess eh?" Dean said.

Harry said nothing but looked at Malfoy in shock and perhaps a little gratitude. Malfoy was paying him no heed though.

"You want to get the ingredients? Dean asked.

"Yeah, yeah alright," Harry said.

"This should be good," said Dean as Harry rose from his chair.

"Why?"

"Well, if someone's had a spell put on them that's never been removed, we'll know. And we'll know what spell."

"Hmm … that will be interesting."

Dean laughed, "You can test our batch next class."

"Why next class?" Harry asked.

"It needs to sit for a while before it can be used," Dean said. "We'll see if you have anything foreign wondering around in you then."


A/N: Thanks to MinorMistake99, Fleury and rainingslash.

AbundantFear :-)