Seven Years. Chapter 5.
AN: No, I don't own HP. The only people with the right to say that are Disney and JK Rowling.
Merula squinted at the matchstick that was certainly not a needle before she sighed.
"Can't do it, Snyde?" Draco's mocking voice called from the table next to her. "What? Discover that you're a squib?"
Merula turned to look at her brother for a moment before she noticed the untouched matchstick on his desk. "And what about you, dear brother? I don't see a needle on your desk."
Draco rolled his eyes. "You're just as bad as Weasley, and it's not like he had spent his life buried in a book!"
"Hey!" a voice shouted from halfway across the classroom. "I heard that!"
"Does it matter?" Draco's voice was louder, but aimed at the distant voice. "You're just as bad as her! It's not like you have a needle!"
"Draco, if you would shut up and let me concentrate, maybe I could get somewhere," Merula growled as she turned back to her matchstick. "If you can't do this, then maybe shut up so the rest of us can."
"An excellent suggestion," a voice said from behind her as Merula flinched. "Ten points from Slytherin, and five from Gryffindor. I will not have idle chatter in my class. Transfiguration is a very dangerous subject."
"Professor?" a voice called from the other side of the room. "Is this correct?"
Merula felt her jaw drop as she recognized the voice. The muggle, of all people, had succeeded?
"Five points to Gryffindor" the witch- Professor McGonagall sounded mildly pleased, and Merula felt her teeth gnash in rage. "Your matchstick has turned silver."
Merula turned her eyes back down to the matchstick on her table and raised her wand again, the incantation on her lips as she pointed the wand at the matchstick.
Then someone close to her sneezed.
Merula flinched as she jerked her wand to the side, the spell slamming into one of the stones on the floor as she drew in a deep gasp.
"Class, this is why there will be no fooling around in this class." Professor McGonagall's voice wasn't angry, but Merula felt herself flush a deep red regardless. "Had that spell struck someone, the results could have been catastrophic. In fact, for homework, you will write two…"
Merula turned out McGonagall's voice as she clasped her wand, her fingers trembling as she heard Draco giggling, though the sound was drowned out by the chatter of the class hurrying to leave.
"That didn't go so well," a voice muttered from behind Merula when she stepped out of the classroom. "We lost ten points over Draco not being able to keep his mouth shut."
"It's annoying, isn't it Blaise?" Merula sighed as she turned to face the other Slytherin. "Draco started the fight as always, yet everyone is going to blame me for it."
"I don't blame you." Blaise shrugged. "We'll make up the points though, so long as you can brew a good potion."
Merula raised an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"
"Not like we have many chances to do it," Blaise pointed out. "First years can't play Quidditch, and McGonagall doesn't give points to Slytherin much."
"Your friends tell you that?" Merula asked.
"Some seventh year, Lee or something," Blaise replied with a shrug. "Not sure he's not a Hufflepuff in disguise, but he told me a lot of things."
"Like?" Merula asked, curious about the information Blaise had gathered.
"Snape loves taking points away from dunderheads and muggleborns," Blaise sneered. "Flitwick is fair, I guess, and if you do well in Potions, you'll probably do well in Herbology."
Merula nodded. "You plan on doing anything today?"
"We have a few hours until flying theory." Blaise shrugged. "Might head down to the dungeons and start talking with the other older students."
Merula nodded. "I think I'll head up to the library. Draco likes the common area too much."
"You ever get those cookies your mother-"
"Dobby," Merula corrected Blaise. "Narcissa doesn't cook."
"Have you tried them?" Blaise asked, sounding curious.
"Have you?" Merula scoffed at the suggestion. "I'm not going to ask Draco for any, and it's not like I've gotten any mail from Narcissa."
Blaise scrunched up his face. "Haven't gotten around to it yet. Vincent and Gregory tend to get to them before anyone else."
Merula shuddered at the thought of the two meatheads eating anything in general. "I could never tell the difference between the two of them."
Blaise snickered as they rounded a corner to the Great Hall. "Does it matter?"
"I guess not," Merula sighed, reaching one of the staircases. "Well, see you in flying theory then."
Blaise nodded as he turned away, but he paused mid-turn and looked up at Merula. "You ever get on a broom before?"
Merula felt her heart sink as the image of her mother's shattered broom, scattered across the lawn of Malfoy Manor, rose up in her head like a particularly cruel ghost. "I've flown a few times, but you never know what the class is going to be like."
"Alone?" Blaise continued, his question annoyingly unavoidable.
"Yes, alone," Merula paused. "But also with my mother."
"Narcissa?" Blaise asked, his face too innocent for the gut punch he delivered.
"My real mother," Merula snapped, her voice catching in her throat as she looked at Blaise's stunned face, and the stunned look in his eyes. "She's dead now, but-"
"I shouldn't have gone there," Blaise shuffled back, the look in his eyes guarded. "I'll leave you to your library-"
"Blaise," Merula shook her head, swallowing a lump in her throat. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I'm sorry."
Blaise swallowed and nodded as he took a step away, then another, and then Merula was alone on the staircase.
Merula blinked as she walked down the hallway, her eyes darting from room to room. Where was the flying class? This was the shortcut the two red-haired doppelgangers had suggested, right?
The room she stood in was empty, with dusty desks that reminded her of the library at the Crabbe house. But the room was quiet, even more so than the actual Hogwarts library.
And then there was the mirror in the corner. Why was there a mirror?
Merula paused as she studied the mirror for a second. A mirror with strange carvings in the wood. Strange, what was it doing in here?
"Oh, I'm glad I got to you in time," a familiar, friendly voice called from behind her. "The twins said they led you down this hallway."
Merula blinked as she turned around, looking up at the source of the voice, the tall, red-haired prefect from the Feast.
"Oh," Merula whispered as a thought popped into her mind. "They sent me down the wrong hallway?"
"They did," the prefect sounded annoyed as he gestured for her to follow him. "Said that they hoped you lost points. Very loud about it too."
Merula bit her lip, thinking of the points she had lost in the morning. Would the flying professor punish her for being late? McGonagall had spared Potter, but this wasn't potions class with Professor Snape, their head of house.
"Come with me," the prefect said. "I'll lead you to your class."
"I- thank you," Merula managed. "If I could ask, what was this hallway used for?"
"Nothing," the prefect replied as he went down the stairs. "There are no classes on this floor for this year. If I hadn't come to find you, you might have spent the entire period lost."
Merula nodded as she followed the prefect through the winding hallways of the castle. "Do you think I'll lose points?"
The prefect paused at the question. "I could explain the situation for you, if you want. Madam Hooch isn't unreasonable, especially since this is your first time going to her class. Ah, here we are."
Merula swallowed as the prefect pushed the door open, and a murmur rose from the class, loud enough for Merula to hear from the hallway.
A moment later the red-haired prefect returned, a wide smile on his face as he gestured for her to enter the classroom. "Everything is cleared up. Have a nice class."
Merula paused as the prefect walked away before she walked into the silent classroom.
"Miss Snyde, Percy has been so kind to explain your situation to us," Madam Hooch said as she gestured to the blackboard. "Now take a seat. Class is late enough already."
Merula nodded as she looked at the half of the classroom occupied by the Slytherins.
"Spot's taken," the girl closest to her snapped as Merula took a step forward.
"Yeah, no room on our side here," another voice called out.
Merula glanced up at Blaise, his nose buried in a book, as if he hadn't even noticed the commotion the prefect brought with him.
"Miss Snyde," Madam Hooch looked annoyed when Merula looked at her. "There is a seat next to Mister Longbottom. You will sit there this class."
"Huh?" a boy, his face confused, sat up to her right. "Did someone say my name?"
"Mister Longbottom," Madam Hooch turned to the boy with the confused look on his face. "I suggest you pay more attention in this class. Flying is like walking, but only more dangerous. You wouldn't want to hurt yourself, would you now?"
Merula swallowed as she sat next to the boy, her hands clasped tightly as the professor droned on about flying safety.
Perhaps this class wasn't going to be so bad after all. If they were going to be forced to spend a few weeks listening to flying basics, then perhaps there would be a chance to earn some points at the expense of the Mudbloods.
"Now, who here has had experience flying before?" Madam Hooch's voice cut through Merula's schemes as she instinctively felt her hand shoot up.
"I see," Madam Hooch continued as Merula glanced around the class. Only a handful of the Slytherins hadn't flown before, whereas the Mudblood and most of the Gryffindors kept their hands down.
"Put down your hands," Madam Hooch said. "Starting next week, we will begin practical flying lessons. Three thirty in the afternoon, the Training Grounds, by the greenhouse. Do not be late."
Even though Merula was looking at the desk she sat at, she still felt the class shift their eyes to her, and she clenched her teeth as Madam Hooch continued her droning.
When class ended, some two tedious hours later, Merula found that she was the last student out the door, with no Blaise waiting in the hallway.
The final class in the afternoon had been listening to a ghost ramble on about the earliest days of Wizarding Britain. Yet the common room was somehow even quieter than the class, lacking the droning voice of the ghostly professor, with only Blaise sitting alone at a nearby table. But even Blaise didn't say anything when their eyes met, putting a finger to his lips as Merula glanced at him.
Later, Merula mouthed as she watched Blaise nod. If nothing else, she could head over to the library and finish up her long list of homework once she got the transfiguration textbook from next to her bed.
When she stepped out, no more than three minutes after she stepped into her room, the first students had already begun to fill into the common room, and Merula shared a glare with Draco as they met by the fake wall.
At the bottom of the stairs out of the dungeons, a safe distance from the first years by the entrance to the common room, Merula felt her stomach grumble. She had, after all, skipped lunch in favour of the library. Could she study while eating something? Narcissa had forbidden it at home, yet it wasn't like Draco was smart enough to owl home about her bad table manners.
Especially if he didn't see her in the act.
It wasn't until a few minutes before curfew that Merula slipped back into the dungeons, past the wall that separated the outer dungeons from the Slytherin wing. Much to her own dismay, the few chairs in the cold, dark room were filled with older students playing Exploding Snap and Chess. There was a slight disappointment rising in her chest, for there was no way to talk to Blaise again, not in private anyways. Even if Draco or any of his goons weren't in the room, she couldn't be sure one of the other students wouldn't tell Draco.
Blaise seemed to share her concern, because he shook his head slightly as their eyes met.
Merula felt whatever energy she had left seep away as she headed into her room. It was a long day, and she was tired, especially with no Blaise to talk to anymore. Perhaps that was why the quiet, unassuming bed in the middle of the deserted room looked so tempting...
The first thing Merula realized when she woke up was that she was still in her uniform from the previous day. The second thing was that she was up early- far earlier than Pug-Face and the other girls in the room.
Naturally, she didn't want to deal with them, not until she talked to Blaise.
He was up early, surprisingly enough, sitting alone at a table in the common room, studying an unfinished Chess match. "If I didn't know better," Blaise started as Merula sat down next to him. "I would never believe you were adopted by the Malfoys. Draco doesn't think you even exist."
Merula shrugged. "We never liked each other, not for the last few years."
Blaise nodded. "But you have lived in the same house as each other?"
Merula snorted. "Where else would I live?"
"They say things about Potter," Blaise replied, his face blank. Merula felt a slight chill. Blaise not showing any emotion was disturbing, to say the least. "I hope the Malfoys treat you better than shoving you into a cupboard?"
Merula nodded and felt a slight smirk rise to her lips. "Narcissa favours Draco, but I think Lucius prefers me."
Blaise raised an eyebrow. "And in the future, if I found out about something Draco did, could I trust you to… let Lucius know?"
Merula leaned back into her chair and drummed her fingers against the armrests, a slight jolt of excitement in her head running straight into a question. "Why couldn't I find out on my own?"
Blaise fell silent as Merula watched his eyes frantically dart from side to side. Lucius had told her that she only did that when she was trying to lie. Was Blaise… hiding something from her?
"Draco is busy turning the rest of our class against you," Blaise said after a long moment of silence. "It's not hard, since, you know, he's using Lucius as a threat against anyone trying to challenge him."
Merula swallowed. The looks from the other students made sense all of a sudden.
"It doesn't work with everyone of course," Blaise added, his tone having changed too quick for Merula to not suspect something. "There's Lee, the seventh year I mentioned earlier. He doesn't seem to-"
"The Mis-Sorted Hufflepuff?" Merula felt the insult slip past her lips without thinking. "He'll be graduating next year anyways. It's not like I can rely on him after this year."
Blaise nodded as he looked down at the table. "You haven't really done yourself any favours. Showing up with that Weasley-"
"Weasley?" Merula spat, the name enough to jolt whatever remnants of sleep from her mind. "Where the hell did I find a Weasley?"
"The prefect," Blaise explained as Merula felt her jaw drop. "His name is Percy Weasley. I checked with Lee. He's the third of his brothers who were made into prefects."
Merula felt a chill seep into her bones. Had she let anything slip the previous afternoon? And what would Lucius do if he found out? He had asked her to keep an eye out for the Weasley children.
"Merula?" Blaise sounded concerned, but his eyes betrayed something else that Merula didn't like- excitement? "Are you alright?"
Merula buried her hands in her head. "Is that why you don't-"
"It is," Blaise confirmed.
Merula shook her head. "I- not one word to Lucius, alright?"
Blaise nodded. "I'll let you know if Draco ever sends an owl out, but-"
"You want something from me," Merula guessed as she looked up into the other Slytherin's eyes, catching a flicker of light before he hid his eyes away. "What is it?"
Blaise smiled in a manner that reminded her of a snake. "I think you'll like the idea of watching Draco fall. When the time comes, could I count on you to help?"
Merula didn't need to think of much. The image of her mother's broom, smashed across the lawn of Malfoy Manor was enough. "Just say the word."
Breakfast, early to the point where only a pair of tired prefects were in the Great Hall with her, brought a short letter from Lucius. The letter, despite having only a few meaningless words, however, replaced her nagging hunger with something even worse: a cold, hollow fear that gnawed at her.
What would Lucius do if he found out that she had run into the prefect Weasley? What would he do if Draco lied to him? Made her accidental run in sound more sinister than it was?
The night she had witnessed came to mind, his furious, mansion-shaking shouting and cursing. Would he scream at her? Would she live out the rest of her life as a toad?
The answer came to her in a flash, and Merula swallowed hard. She didn't like that answer, not one bit, even as the cold expanded in her stomach.
Merula took a deep breath as she looked up at the empty room around her. The hall was still empty, except for the two prefects, one of whom was now face-down on the table, the other busy eating breakfast. Neither of which saw her nervous, twitching hands.
She would have to tell Lucius first. Yet, how could she admit that she had failed him, not even a week into her first year? She couldn't, yet if she did nothing, Draco was going to beat her to the punch.
Slowly, as she sat in her seat, a nagging feeling whispered around the edges of her mind. What was it that she was forgetting?
Merula sighed as she looked up, jealous of the stupid owls-
Lucius wouldn't know if Draco never told him about what she had done. Lucius wouldn't know if Draco never sent a letter home about her, or better yet, if Draco had forgotten about her entirely.
So all she needed was a distraction to confuse Draco until he forgot about her run in with the Weasley prefect.
As if blessed by a potion, two loudly arguing voices entered the Great Hall, and Merula felt a slight grin spread across her face. Of course. The Boy Who Lived. Why didn't she think of that earlier? She could see it already.
When Professor Snape had stormed into the room, Merula felt a slight grin spread across her face. She had heard about the man before, but only in passing. Apart from a short welcoming speech, she hadn't seen Professor Snape at all.
Lucius had mentioned once that Snape was a number of years his junior, yet the man who walked in looked even older than Lucius, wearing plain black robes compared to the expensive robes her adoptive father wore.
But that was before she met his eyes, and Merula fell silent. His eyes were dark with a certain light behind them that she hadn't seen before, not even with Lucius. No, Merula wasn't comfortable with Severus Snape at all. Not when the light in his eyes reminded her of a snake.
But even she was impressed. With just a single phrase, he had silenced the entire chattering class. Weasley, Draco, and all the other annoying kids had fallen silent and gave their professor their full attention. Nobody else at Hogwarts, except for maybe McGonagall, had achieved that.
It was his aura of power that Merula wanted. Some dim, far-away part of her mind realized that as most of her mind wandered off in the promises of bewitching minds and brewing fame.
"Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not pay attention!"
Merula flinched at the words as she stared up at the professor, her heart pounding in her chest as she felt the blood rushing to her head. Snape was furious, that much she could tell. But he was also not looking at her, and her surely reddening face, but at another student, far behind her. She couldn't see herself, with the heads of three other students in the way, but something in her already knew exactly who Severus Snape was referring to.
"Mr. Potter," Snape continued as he stepped from his position at the front of the room, his voice quiet, neutral... yet she could feel the disgust behind it. "Our… new celebrity."Tell me what would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel and an infusion of Wormwood?"
Merula felt her hand shoot up. The class, except for the Mudblood, was motionless. How was it that a Mudblood would be the only other student who knew how to brew a Draught of Living Death?
"You don't know?" Snape didn't sound surprised, not at all. He sounded like he relished the opportunity to put Potter in his place, yet he had barely raised his voice.
Merula felt her arm fall, just as the arm of the Mudblood fell too.
"Well let's try again," Snape continued. "Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a Bezoar?"
Merula felt her arm shoot up again, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Mudblood's arm follow her.
"I don't know sir." The voice of Harry Potter was soft, quiet, defeated. With just a few words Severus Snape had silenced The Boy Who Lived.
"And what is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?" Snape continued.
Merula blinked. Monkshood and Wolfsbane were the same thing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Mudblood's arm shoot up again, and she raised her own arm a second later.
"I don't know sir," Harry Potter repeated as Merula felt the tiniest of smirks break out. If Potter had been smart enough to choose her over Weasley, then perhaps she could have given him the answers beforehand.
"Pity," Snape was speaking much more slowly now, his voice low. "Clearly fame isn't everything, Mr. Potter?"
Merula glanced around the class as Professor Snape turned back to the blackboard. Whereas she had hid her smile, Draco had grinned widely, as had the two meat-heads next to him. If Snape would humiliate Potter every class, then maybe Draco would forget about her brush with the Weasley brother.
She could hope.
It was a quiet week after that potions class, right up until the first flying class they would get at Hogwarts. Flitwick and Quirrell had each entertained the class with tales of their travels. The latter spending most of his class talking about the turban he wore and the vampire that he feared would try to eat him.
Merula was the first student out of the building when Flying classes began, beating out Draco and his meatheads by several minutes, the Mudblood, Potter, and Weasley by at least ten, and the last stragglers of the class by fifteen.
The brooms provided by the school, scattered across the grass, made Merula wince. There were an assortment of brooms: some obsolete by the time Lucius had entered Hogwarts, others still warily eyed by the other Slytherin students who knew brooms well.
But she had been fortunate. Not so fortunate as the Slytherins who had dove for the relatively new brooms the moment Madam Hooch had her back turned, but certainly more fortunate than Potter, who clutched a broom that would have gotten him laughed off any Quidditch field in the last two decades.
Merila was happy with her choice when Madam Hooch went through the standard flying protocols, rubbing her broom with glee. The odds were good. Of the Gryffindors, only Weasley had gotten a decent broom, having beaten one of his own housemates to the last good broom, and she had no doubt that they could win some early points.
Three minutes later, however, one of the idiotic Gryffindors had fallen from his broom, and was lying in the grass whimpering, though Merula could barely hear him over the grumbling first years forced to watch instead of fly.
"Enough!" Madam Hooch shouted, silencing the class as she helped the fallen boy to his feet. "No unsupervised flying, or I'll have you expelled faster than you could say Quidditch!"
Despite the irritated grumble of protest rising from the students, the nineteen remaining students stayed quiet for a long minute in the warm afternoon sun as Madam Hooch marched the Gryffindor away.
"Hey Crabbe." Draco's voice sounded excited, too excited for Merula's liking. "Look at what Longbottom dropped."
Merula along with what must have been most of the class, turned to look at Draco and his two meatheads, and more importantly, the Remembrall sitting in Draco's hands.
"Malfoy, what are you doing?"Potter sounded furious as Draco shifted on his broom.
"Oh look, it's a Remembrall," Draco sneered, tossing the red glass ball from hand to hand. "I wonder who left it here?"
"It's Neville's." Potter sounded furious as he climbed off his broom, marching toward Draco. "Give it back, Malfoy."
"Ohh," Draco cooed. "Potter wants the Remembrall. Crabbe, Goyle, what should I do?"
"Throw it!" one of the meatheads, possibly Crabbe, shouted, a grin on his face.
"A great idea, Goyle." Draco had a wicked gleam in his eye as Harry stopped midstep. "Potter, should I throw this?"
"Malfoy, you wouldn't-"
"I need a better spot to throw it!" Draco called as he pushed his broom up, launching past Potter and into the air, flying ever higher.
Merula whispered a silent prayer before she shot a quick glance at Blaise. If Draco crashed into the ground, or Madam Hooch came back, she wouldn't have to worry about Draco anymore, possibly never again. And judging from the look on Blaise's face, he was equally excited at the possibility.
"Get back here!" Potter shouted after Draco as he climbed onto his own broom, rushing high into the air as Merula felt her jaw drop. Potter and Draco, expelled within an afternoon? Could it really be possible?
"Potter!" a voice shouted from high up. "I think this is a good spot for it!"
Merula winced as she glanced up at the figure illuminated by sunlight, blinking the light out of her eyes as she looked back down at her broom.
A gasp rose up around her as Merula glanced up again, with Harry Potter raising the somehow undamaged Remembrall into the air as he was landing. Merula glanced to her left to see Draco's jaw falling, his hands clutching his broom so hard they turned white.
And just beyond Draco was the stony face of Professor McGonagall, still staring at Harry Potter descending slowly to ground level, seemingly unaware of the danger he was about to land in.
"Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall's voice was firm, and Merula watched as Potter froze in midair, the look of triumph on his face replaced with horror. "Would you come over with me for a second?"
Potter didn't say anything as he climbed off his broom, the Remembrall still in hand as he walked away.
The moment Potter and Professor McGonagall were out of sight, the Slytherin students exploded into action. A dozen of them, not only the mindless idiots that followed Draco on a regular basis, but also Blaise and the few students Merula had gained some form of respect from leapt at Draco, showering him with cheers and claps on the back.
And all of a sudden watching Potter get expelled didn't seem so interesting anymore, especially if it meant that Draco remembered about Percy Weasley leading her into her first flying class again.
Merula watched Potter carefully as he entered the Great Hall around dinner. The small, dark haired boy was quiet as he slipped next to Weasley, although there was no shortage of Gryffindors clapping him on the back, no doubt impressed by his skills.
Yet, wasn't Madam Hooch supposed to be fair? She had threatened to expel any student who had been caught flying without her supervision, and Potter had been caught red handed.
Yet he still sat in the middle of his table, with no shortage of grinning Gryffindors crowding around him, certainly not in mourning.
Merula swallowed as she turned her eyes to Blaise, tilting her head slightly toward the returned Potter before she looked back down at her dinner.
Even as she took her next spoonful, she could hear the whispers and sighs from her housemates, mixed with the occasional curse about favouritism.
A tiny whistle got her attention as she glanced up to Blaise, then followed his fingers to Draco, walking toward Potter with Crabbe and Goyle, one of the two meatheads still stuffing his face with something even as he approached Potter and Weasley.
Weasley, perhaps predictably, was agitated as Draco approached, waving his hands wildly. Despite the entire Sylverin table having fallen silent, she still couldn't hear what Draco was saying.
But she could tell he had said something, because Weasley was agitated, and while it was amusing as ever to watch, she still hadn't heard just exactly what her dearest brother had suggested to anger the Weasley. And the curiosity burned like a slow, unquenchable fire.
Merula exchanged a glance with Blaise, and he mouthed one word before he turned back to his dinner, just like she did.
Duel.
AN: Chapter 5 is complete. Yay. Read, review, follow, etc.
Next chapter: A duel at Hogwarts.
