The Other Side of the Mirror
Year Six
Chapter Three
-Back to School-
Draco entered the Great Hall accompanied by his friends, if he could really call them that. But they served their purpose. He strode towards the Slytherin table, glancing at the Gryffindor table on his way. He smirked with satisfaction upon seeing that Potter was not present. Good. He took a seat at the table, continuing his conversation with Zabini, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle.
" – he could get it," Zabini was saying.
Draco glanced over, having missed the first part of what Zabini had said. "Who?"
"Professor Snape. The DADA position is open again."
"Won't Professor Slughorn fill it though?" asked Pansy, scooting so that she was close to Draco. She placed a hand on his arm, which he ignored.
"It would be brilliant if Professor Snape got the position, but," said Zabini with a shrug, "we can't always count on anything."
The doors to the Great Hall opened and Draco watched as Professor McGonagall led in the first years. He stifled a yawn and folded his arms on the table. His gaze drifted to his arm and then back to the wood grains of the table, deep in thought. This definitely isn't going to be easy, he thought. I got the instructions from Borgin on how to fix the cabinet, but it's going to take time. And time is not something I have. The Dark Lord isn't exactly known for his patience. Draco felt his stomach twist and he closed his eyes briefly, trying to calm his uneasiness. Now I've just got to figure out a place to be able to fix it, without being detected…
Then a thought struck him. Bloody hell, how could I have been so stupid! The Room of Requirement. Where Potter and his little army made their plans. I can get access to the cabinet and as long as I've got lookouts, I don't think it'll be a problem. I already have Rosmerta in place. She'll be my back up, of course, if things don't go as planned. I just hope this goes fast. My mother and my father, even if he is in Azkaban, are not safe and they'll be killed if I don't do this. I'll be killed.
He thought back to the previous month, when he had gone into Hogsmeade with Pansy and her parents.
"Draco! We just have to go to Gladrags," said Pansy, her hold on his arm a little too tight for comfort.
He repressed a glare and tried to remove his arm from her iron grip. "Pansy, why don't you go with your mother?" he asked, trying to keep his voice as pleasant as possible, while inside he was screaming to get away. "Pick out something nice and surprise me."
"Ooh!" she squealed excitedly. "I know exactly what to look for!" And, mercifully, she let go of his arm to lead her mother into the shop.
Draco glanced around and then moved towards the Three Broomsticks. They were planning on meeting up with Pansy's father later, who had to stop in Dervish and Banges. He entered the noisy pub, walking to the bar and taking a seat.
"Draco Malfoy, well if this isn't a surprise," said Rosmerta, walking over. She was cleaning a mug with a white cloth as she spoke. "I didn't expect you to be straying far from your mother, especially with the heightened security nowadays."
Draco glared slightly. "I can take care of myself, thanks. Just get me a butterbeer."
She shook her head. "Someone's knickers are in a twist." She turned and poured him a butterbeer, setting it in front of him.
"I just don't need a second mother," he snapped, pulling the butterbeer towards him. He sipped it, looking away. I've got to have a backup, someone to keep watch out here for me, he thought. His gaze moved back to Rosmerta, who was cleaning up a spill on the counter. She smiled at a customer, serving him a drink and chatting idly. Then something clicked inside his brain and Draco's eyebrows rose. Perfect. He glanced around. Now…how to get her alone. He watched her, trying to devise a plan. She walked down towards the end of the bar and opened a door, going into the back room.
He smirked, seeing his chance and climbed off his chair. He finished his butterbeer and then made his way inconspicuously towards the door that Rosmerta had entered. He glanced around and, seeing no one watching, slipped in after. The walls of the room were covered in shelves, stocked full of glasses, mugs and boxes. Rosmerta's back was to him as she reached up for two mugs.
He pulled out his wand and pointed at her. She turned at that moment but he had already said, "Imperio!" Her gaze seemed to glaze over and he kept his gaze level, his voice cold. Taking a page out of his father's book, he attempted to keep his voice as calm and dispassionate as possible. Casting an Unforgivable wasn't exactly something he wanted to do, but he knew he had to, to get the results he needed. "Take this," he said, holding out a seemingly innocent Galleon. However, it was no mere coin. It was enchanted, an idea he had taken from Dumbledore's Army. This way, he and Rosmerta would be able to communicate without Dumbledore ever realizing.
Draco smirked as she took it. "I'll be giving you instructions later. But first, I need you to go to Borgin and Burkes. There's a cursed necklace that I want you to buy. It's the only one there so it won't be hard to get. Just buy it and keep it. I might have a use for it later."
"Of course."
"Keep the coin hidden and speak of this to no one." He turned and, after making sure no one was watching, slipped out of the room and disappeared into the crowded pub.
Madam Rosmerta came out a few minutes later, carrying her mugs and as chipper as ever, as if nothing had happened..
"Draco, are you even listening to me?" came an annoyed voice.
Draco blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He looked at Pansy. "What?"
She sighed. "Draco, I –" but she was interrupted as Zabini suddenly shoved Goyle.
"Get your bloody arm away from my food!" snarled Zabini. Draco realized, at that moment, that dishes heaped with delicious food covered the tables. He had been so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't even hear the Sorting taking place.
Goyle glared back. "I was reaching for the potatoes, not your food."
"Just don't touch me," snapped Zabini and moved to sit on the other side of Theodore Nott, who was snickering.
Draco snickered as well, watching this display. He reached across the table for chicken wings, taking a few and beginning to eat.
"So what happened on the train, Draco?" Nott asked, helping himself to some carrots.
He laughed. "Oh, it was brilliant, you should have seen. Stupid Potter. He thought he could listen in on our conversation so I gave him a little lesson in manners." He sniggered. "After they left," he said with a nod towards Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and Pansy, "I Petrified the git and broke his nose." He mimed his actions and everyone who was listening in laughed.
"Wish I could have seen his face!" crowed one of the Slytherins.
"He deserved it," snickered another.
"Why do I always miss all the good things?" laughed Nott.
Their continued conversation was full of laughter, jokes and Crabbe and Goyle making fools of themselves as usual, but it helped to take Draco's mind off what he had to do.
" – is it true, Draco?" asked Nott. He lowered his voice. "That you've got a job from Him?" His eyebrows were raised and Draco merely smirked.
"Let's just say that I'm well on my way to becoming what my father could have been." The key is to keep up the appearance of confidence, thought Draco. Inside, his stomach was doing nervous twists but on the outside, he was as arrogant as always.
"I still say that there's nothing a sixteen year old wizard could do," said Zabini, shrugging.
Draco held his smirk. "But you don't know what He wants, do you Zabini? So you'll just have to take my word on it." The Slytherins around him were quiet, a little bit of awe in their eyes. He leaned back casually, folding his arms behind his head. "Besides, the devotion we give Him is more important than anything else at this moment. Who knows what will happen to Hogwarts."
Several of their eyes went wide. "What are you planning?" asked Nott. Crabbe and Goyle stared, dumbfounded.
Zabini just narrowed his gaze. "Yes, Draco, do tell."
"All in good time."
Just then, the doors to the Great Hall opened and all eyes went to the person walking through the doors. Harry Potter.
Draco snickered. "The Chosen One can't even arrive to dinner on time. Pathetic." Several of the other Slytherins were laughing and snickering. Several students actually stood to see what all the commotion was about and a very red-faced Potter took his seat. The blood was caked on his face, a result of his interaction with Draco.
"Good look for Potter," snickered Nott.
"Nice job, Draco," another Slytherin commented.
"All in a days work," smirked Draco. "Potter didn't even see what was coming."
Several other Slytherins had turned there attention to Draco. "Did you really break his nose?" one of them asked, laughing.
"Oh it was quite the sight." Draco grinned, miming the shattering of Harry's nose. "Blood everywhere. And the best part was, he was completely frozen. Couldn't do a thing."
The Slytherins were laughing and applauding. "Potter got what he deserved."
Dumbledore stood at that moment and they quieted down, turning their attention to the Headmaster. Draco glanced around, bored. I don't really care what he has to say. It doesn't have any use.
"The very best of evenings to you!" Dumbledore said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.
Draco noticed that Dumbledore's right hand was blackened and dead-looking and frowned. Wonder what happened…I don't remember hearing anything about that. Whispers swept the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.
"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now…to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you…"
"This is so stupid," muttered Draco beneath his breath. He picked up a spoon and ran it through his fingers.
"…and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise. We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn" - Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waistcoated belly casting the table below into shadow – "is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post as Potions master."
Draco's head jerked up at this and he stared. Then a slow smirk crept over his face. If Slughorn was Potions master that meant…
"Potions?"
"Potions?"
The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether or not they had heard right.
Zabini and Nott glanced at each other and then Draco. "Then what's Professor Snape going to teach?" asked Nott.
"Isn't it obvious?" smirked Draco.
"Professor Snape, meanwhile," continued Dumbledore, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"No!" came a cry.
Draco glanced over, seeing Potter fuming. He snickered. "Poor Potter, now he can't slide by. Even the Chosen One will have to do work this year."
The other Slytherins laughed and applauded Snape loudly, a few of them yelling their approval. Snape merely raised a hand in lazy acknowledgment.
"Finally. Professor Snape deserves that position more than anyone else," said Pansy, nodding. "He's going to be brilliant."
"Will Slughorn be easy?" wondered Crabbe.
"What do you care, Crabbe," said Draco, rolling his eyes. "You're not in Potions this year."
"Oh right…"
Dumbledore cleared his throat and waited a few seconds to ensure that the silence was absolute before continuing.
"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."
Draco stifled a yawn. Who cares? I know he's back and he's going to come here as soon as I fix the cabinet. And they have no idea. He took out his wand and levitated his fork, making it hover in midair. It was far more interesting then anything Dumbledore had to say.
"…I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety," Dumbledore was saying. "But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"
Benches were moved back, sending echoing scraping noises throughout the Hall. The students stood, making their way from the Great Hall.
As they made their way to the Slytherin common room, several people asked about the train incident and Draco was more than happy to tell the tale. It soon became the joke of Slytherin and the other Houses were well-informed, Draco made sure of that.
Once they were back inside the common room, Draco took a seat in a huge, leather chair, propping his feet up on a footrest. Pansy stood behind him, running her fingers through his hair. Nott, Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, and a few other Slytherins sat lazily around him, enjoying just being back.
"So what's this big plan of yours?" asked Nott.
"I have to fix something for Him," said Draco simply. "It'll be well worth it in the end."
"Looks more to me like a trial," said Zabini. "You know He only gave you this job so that he could see if you're better than your father. If you ask me, your dad wasn't very careful and he messed up, big time."
Draco glared and in an instant, his wand was pointed at Zabini's throat. "It was Potter's fault what happened, not my father's. If you think you can get away with insulting my father, you're dead wrong. I've used Unforgivables and I won't hesitate."
There was something in his eyes that made Zabini shut his mouth. Once Draco felt that he had successfully quieted Zabini, he sat back, pocketing his wand. "Anyone else care to try me?" he asked coldly.
The rest of them shook their heads. "Can we help?" asked Nott.
"You're good at Charms, right Nott?" asked Draco.
"I got an O and Professor Flitwick said that I was the one of the best."
"Good. Then I'll show you later."
"What are we going to do?" asked Crabbe, pulling out a muffin from his pocket and eating it.
"You're going to stand watch while we fix it."
"Fix what?" asked Pansy.
"You remember that cabinet that Montague got lost in?"
"Yeah, but what's that got to do with anything?" asked Zabini.
"Well, it's connected to another one. It's supposed to be, anyways," said Draco with a shrug. "It just needs repaired."
"And you think you can do that?" asked Zabini incredulously. "That's advanced magic." Draco went for his wand and Zabini held up a hand. "Look, all I'm saying is that it's going to be a lot harder than you think."
Draco scowled. "Don't you think I realize that, you idiot?" he snapped. "I know what I'm doing. I'll fix it, that's not going to be the problem."
"How are you going to fix it?" asked Goyle, his comic in his hands. He was flipping through it again, but not really paying attention.
"That's what will take time. But first –" Draco looked at Nott. "You're taking Advanced Potions, right?"
Nott nodded. "Creighton and Wallingsworth are taking it as well."
"Good." He stood up, much to Pansy's protests, and took Nott's arm, leading him away from the group. He lowered his voice. "I need Polyjuice Potion but I don't have the time to make it. So tomorrow, if we have Potions, then we need to steal some of the potion. That's your job."
Nott smirked. "With Slughorn as the professor, I don't see it being a problem. He seems like the type to be easily distracted."
"I'm sure that once I talk to him about my father, then I'll be his favorite. Afterall, Slughorn and my father were close. I don't care what Zabini thinks, I always get my way."
"That you do."
"Not a word of this to anyone, understand?"
Nott nodded. "Sure."
Draco stepped back, satisfied. "I'm going to head to bed, it's getting late and we have to get up early."
"Night." Nott returned to the group and Draco made his way upstairs to his dormitory. Changing into pajamas, he slid into his bed, shutting the drapes of his four-poster. He closed his eyes, trying to sleep, but his dreams were filled with nightmarish figures and a cold, eerie laugh.
In the morning, Draco managed to haul himself out of bed. He changed into his robes, smirking at himself in the mirror. "You look very nice today, Mr. Malfoy," commented the mirror.
"Of course I do." He ran a hand through his slick hair and headed out of the room.
After a good breakfast, Professor Snape walked around, handing out their schedules. It look a bit longer than usual, as he confirmed that everyone had achieved the necessary OWLs to continue with their chosen NEWTs.
He reached Draco and glanced over his sheet. "Well done, Mr. Malfoy," he said. "I see you've chosen Potions, Charms, DADA, Transfiguration, and several other good classes. Though it will be time consuming, so I suggest you prepare." There was something in Snape's eyes as he looked at Draco, who frowned slightly. What's he up to? Draco knew that Snape wouldn't be able to penetrate his mind, even if he wanted to. Draco was too good at Occlumency.
He took his schedule and waited until the rest of them were finished. "Looks like there's only four of us in Potions this year," said Nott.
"I'm not surprised. Professor Snape knows who the good ones are," smirked Draco.
"I have free periods!" exclaimed Crabbe excitedly.
Draco rolled his eyes, knowing what Crabbe was going to be doing. He and Goyle would most likely be stuffing their faces or reading comics. Draco, however, had more important issues to take care of.
Pansy snatched Draco's schedule out of his hands and let out an unhappy sigh. "None of our classes match up!"
Draco took his schedule back. "So? I don't have time to be distracted, Pansy. Sixth year isn't as easy as you think."
"But look at all our free time. We'll have plenty of time to do whatever we want," said Pansy.
"If you say so."
Draco stood, glancing at Nott. "We've got Ancient Runes in fifteen minutes. We'd better get going."
Nott nodded and headed towards the exit. Draco glanced back at the others and looked to Crabbe and Goyle. "Meet me in the common room at five o'clock," he said. They nodded and he headed out after Nott.
Defense Against the Dark Arts came quickly and for that, Draco was grateful. During Runes, he had made sure that he was sitting as far away from the Mudblood as possible. Why is she in everything I take, he thought, disgusted.
As they entered the DADA classroom, Draco was pleased to see Professor Snape standing by the door Finally, a good DADA class. Curtains had been drawn over the windows and candles lit the room. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts.
"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention. You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe. Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion, I am surprised so many of you scraped an OWL in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the NEWT work, which will be much more advanced."
Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice. Draco watched him, smirking slightly. This is not going to be hard. For once, it'll actually be interesting, he thought. Besides, with Professor Snape as the teacher, I'll pass this easily. Then I can spend more time worrying about that blasted cabinet.
"The Dark Arts," continued Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."
That's why the Dark Arts are the way to go, thought Draco. It's the only way to get done what we need to get done…even if people get hurt in the process. Even if I'm scared and the Dark Arts aren't exactly what I'd use every day, it's my only choice. I can't be afraid to use them and I have to know how to defend against them if I'm going to live and protect my family.
"Your defenses," said Snape, a little louder," must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse -" Draco glanced at the picture and quickly adverted his eyes. He swallowed, remembering all too well the intense pain he had suffered at the hand of the Dark Lord when he had received his Mark. " – feel the Dementor's Kiss or provoke the aggression of the Inferius."
"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" asked one of the Patil twins in a high-pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"
Draco glanced at her and then moved his attention back to Snape.
"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Snape, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now," he said, moving back towards his desk. "…you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"
Draco wasn't surprised to see Granger's hand waving around in the air and Snape looked displeased to see that her's was the only one. He finally said, curtly, "Very well – Miss Granger?"
"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," said Granger, "which gives you a split-second advantage."
"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," said Snape, dismissively.
Draco sniggered along with Nott. "She won't get too far in this class," he muttered to Nott. "Thinks she knows everything, that one does."
"All she knows how to do is memorize," smirked Nott. "That won't help her when," he stopped, with a shrug. Draco knew what he meant, though he hadn't told Nott everything that would happen.
" – spell-casting," Snape was saying. "Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some lack. You will now divide into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."
Draco and Nott stood, facing each other. Draco furrowed his eyebrows, concentrating, trying to use a basic levitating charm on Nott. Nott's face was drawn into concentration as well.
"Relax, Mr. Malfoy, it comes in time," said Snape as he passed by them.
"Yes, Professor." Draco tried to concentrate, but his thoughts kept going back to the cabinet. He had to start soon, that night if he could. The Dark Lord wasn't going to wait forever.
As a result of his lack of concentration, Nott managed to hit him with a curse that made him stagger back. Draco glared and Nott grinned. "I did it, didn't I?"
"You cheated."
"How do you know?"
"Because, not even Granger has managed to do it yet. So it's doubtful you can do it."
"Are you comparing me to that Mudblood?" asked Nott, arching an eyebrow.
Draco just glared back coolly and tried to think his curse. In the end, he muttered it quietly, using Rictusempra and causing Nott to fall to the floor, laughing.
Through tears in his eyes, Nott managed to use the countercurse, climbing to his feet. Draco glanced over at Potter and Weasley, who didn't seem to be having any luck. Draco snickered. "Seems even the Chosen One can't do a simple spell."
Nott snickered as well and they watched as Snape moved over towards the pair. "Pathetic, Weasley," said Snape. "Here – let me show you –"
Snape turned his wand to Potter, who shouted, "Protego!" Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk. Draco stared, his eyes wide, watching as Snape righted himself, scowling.
"Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?"
"Yes," said Potter.
"Yes, sir."
"There's no need to call me 'sir', Professor."
Draco heard several people gasp around him but he merely arched an eyebrow. Who did Potter think he was? Talking back to Professor Snape…he's such an idiot.
"Detention, Saturday night, my office," said Snape. Draco and Nott glanced each other, smirking. "I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter…not even 'the Chosen One."
The rest of the class passed quickly and Draco and Nott headed out for their break. By the time Draco and Nott headed towards Potions, they were already loaded with homework.
"This is ridiculous," complained Nott. "We've got more homework in a few hours then we got in weeks during fifth year."
"They're advanced classes, Nott, what did you expect?" said Draco.
"Well it's still the first day."
"That doesn't make any difference to the professors, you should know that."
He and Nott entered the Potions classroom and took their seats beside Creighton and Wallingsworth. "So are you staying on the Quidditch team this year?" Creighton asked.
Draco shrugged. "I don't think I'll have time for it. Besides, there's plenty of others. So long as we beat Gryffindor, it doesn't matter."
He glanced around the dungeon, noting the strange vapors and smells. The dungeon door opened and he watched as a group of Ravenclaws and Macmillan entered, followed soon after by the Trio.
Slughorn wasn't far behind, his belly preceding him through the door. Draco looked around at the various potions on the tables and his gaze landed on the Polyjuice Potion. He glanced at Nott knowingly, who nodded slightly.
"Now then, now then, now then," said Slughorn. "Scales out, everyone, and potions kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making…"
"Sir?" Draco looked to see Potter raising his hand.
"Harry, m'boy?"
"I haven't got a book or scales or anything – nor's Ron – we didn't realize we'd be able to do the NEWT, you see –"
"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention…not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts…"
Slughorn strode over to the corner cupboard, retrieving two worn copies of the book along with two sets of scales. After handing them to Potter and Weasley, he moved back to the front of the class.
Draco glared slightly over at the Trio. He had expected Granger to make it, but why did Potter and Weasley get in? Surely they hadn't made the necessary grades, not with Snape as the Professor. But of course, the Chosen One gets everything.
"Now then," said Slughorn. "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your NEWTs. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"
He motioned to the cauldron nearest to them, which Draco recognized as Truth Serum.
Granger, of course, had to raise her hand and say, "It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth."
"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. "Now," he continued, pointing to the cauldron nearest to the Ravenclaws, "this one here is pretty well known…Features in a few Ministry leaflets lately too…Who can –"
"It's Polyjuice Potion, sir," said Granger.
"Excellent, excellent! Now this one here…yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, looking slightly bemused at Granger.
"It's Amortentia!"
"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask, but I assume you know what it does?"
"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!"
Bloody know-it-all, thought Draco with a scowl. I know all these too, but like we'd have a chance to answer with her big mouth flapping away.
"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"
"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals, and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and –" She turned slightly pink and the Slytherins snickered.
"May I ask your name, my dear?"
"Hermione Granger, sir."
"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"
"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."
Draco leaned close to Nott, whispering, "Granger can wish all she wants to be related to such a famous person. In her dreams, perhaps." They both sniggered.
"Oho!" exclaimed Slughorn. "'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"
"Yes, sir," answered Potter.
"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger."
Draco stared, shocked and then scowled. Twenty points? How did she earn those? Who cares that she's Potter's friend. It looks like my father was wrong about this professor, he's completely mental.
"Amortentia doesn't really create love, of course," said Slughorn. "It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room –" Draco and Nott just smirked skeptically. Right. How dangerous can that be, thought Draco. Slughorn nodded towards Draco. "When you have seen as much life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love…and now, it is time for us to start work."
"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," said Macmillan, pointing at a small black cauldron on Slughorn's desk. The potion insid was the color of molten gold and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface.
"Oho," said Slughorn. "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned, smiling, to look at Granger, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?"
"It's liquid luck," said Granger. "It makes you lucky!"
At this, Draco sat up in his seat. If I could get my hands on that potion…I could get that cabinet fixed within a day!
"Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis. Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all you endeavors tend to succeed…at least until the effects wear off."
"Why don't people drink it all the time, sir?" said Terry Boot eagerly.
"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence. Too much of a good thing, you know…highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly and very occasionally…"
"Have you ever taken it, sir?" asked Michael Corner with great interest.
"Twice in my life. Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoons taken with breakfast. Two perfect days." He gazed dreamily into the distance. "And that," he said finally, snapping out of his daze, "is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."
Draco stared, his eyes widening slightly. I've got to get that potion!
"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," said Slughorn, taking a miniscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocket and showing it to them all. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn til dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt. Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competitions…sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only…and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!
"So, how are you to win my fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion-Making. We have a little over an hour left to use, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"
Draco immediately pulled out his Potions equipment and supplies. He began rifling through his book, moving to the page. He scanned the page, seeing what he needed and got it quickly. I have to. I have to get this, he thought desperately. If I don't get that cabinet fixed… He didn't even want to think about what would happen.
He poured the contents of one bottle into his cauldron and then took out his valerian roots. He began chopping them up quickly, dumping them into his cauldron. He stirred the mixture, watching as bluish steam erupted from his cauldron. Slughorn passed by them and Draco looked up.
"Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?"
"Yes," said Slughorn, without looking at Draco. "I was sorry to hear he had died, although of course, it wasn't unexpected, dragon pox at his age…"
Draco glared as Slughorn walked away, moving to the Ravenclaw table. Old fool. Doesn't he know who I am? He began to cut at his sopophorous bean with a vengeance, trying to get the juice from it. Finally, he got enough to put into his cauldron and checked the directions, stirring it how the book instructed. He glanced at the others but didn't say anything. He had to get this…he had to.
Draco feverishly moved through the rest of the potion, trying to finish as quickly as possible.
"And time's…up!" said Slughorn. "Stop stirring, please!"
Draco groaned, sitting back and glaring at his cauldron. The potion wasn't pale enough and he could only hope that none of the others had any luck. Slughorn inspected the potions and when he saw Potter's, he looked delighted.
"The clear winner!" he cried. Draco just groaned, putting his face in his hands. Bloody hell! "Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was. Here you are, then, here you are – one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"
Draco, along with the other Slytherins, glared at Potter furiously. He muttered curses under his breath. Damn Potter! He glanced over at Nott and jerked his head very slightly towards the Polyjuice Potion.
Nott barely nodded and they got up to leave. Slughorn's was chatting with two of the Ravenclaws and Draco made his way towards the door along with Creighton and Wallingsworth.
He heard Potter say, "Got lucky, I suppose," which only made him more furious. He stormed out of the room, heading for the common room.
Once he was back in his dormitory and alone, he threw his books at his bed angrily. "Bloody hell!" he cursed. "Now what?" He clenched his fists and began to pace. He only looked up when Nott came in. "Did you get it?"
Nott smirked, holding up the bottle filled with the dark Polyjuice Potion.
His current anger forgotten, Draco moved quickly towards the potion. "Brilliant. After dinner, we'll start."