Professor Dawson smirked slightly, but narrowed his eyes. "It seems a bit strange, yes, but it is completely dangerous."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. I scowled at him. He was making it seem as if nothing horrible was happening!
"Yes, well, I'll break down the basic knowledge we have of this epidemic. Twenty-four years ago, Harry Potter defeated Tom Riddle at the Battle of Hogwarts. We have learned from Mr. Potter that the reason for Riddle's demise was he had no love in his heart and that the reason Mr. Potter lived was because of his mother's sacrifice, her love. Surely after the Battle, the known Death Eaters at the time were all captured and sent to Azkaban while the "victims" vowed they were under the Imperius Curse. The ones who were not caught all went into hiding, or left the country. Even though the Ministry desperately used all their efforts to capture them, they had escaped from punishment.
"The Ministry knew they would try to return and bring back Voldemort's efforts, but were completely shocked when they did. Their tactics were an entire one-eighty. Instead of reeking havoc upon the wizarding world by killings and torture, they turned to a different approach. They came back, and with a new power. It was not a spell or a hex or an object. It was a potion, in which they poisoned all of the drinks and food of all high Ministry officials. It was a new, colorless, odorless potion which was completely undetected by the Ministry and caused an immense breakout of love.
"The officials started acting completely deranged and divorces were filed left and right and the Ministry remained in a state of panic. Naturally the news has been hidden, but the Prophet is starting to pick up the news. The Aurors collected a sample of the potion and brought it to all potion masters, including yours truly. However it is a very complex potion, consisting of ingredients even professional potioneers, like myself, have yet to even seen.
"Now, the Ministry has been trying to cover up this outbreak with positive feedback that the potion is being researched and that we are on a verge of a breakthrough," he chuckled.
"There is no breakthrough…" I said softly. Dawson nodded.
"…and that's why we're here," finished Malfoy, in a bored tone.
Dawson nodded, smiling. "All the potioneers that the Ministry contacted range from ages twenty all the way to 143. The potioneers all consented to an agreement that they are too 'old' for a petty love potion, yet can't seem to solve it because this deranged love hasn't been in their lives for years. The Ministry then got in touch with Headmaster Flitwick and he agreed to their proposition. That proposition was to have teenagers research, test, and fundamentally, experiment, with the potion."
I widened my eyes.
"S-So, we are t-to consume the potion?" I asked tentatively. Dawson grinned.
"Of course," he responded. "But not today," he added.
"Your mission for now is to get to know each other."
The sentence hung in the air. Wait, wait, wait. WHAT?
"P-Professor?" I asked, "Y-You want us t-to what?" Had the wanker gone mad? How did this mission have any relevance to the current crisis?
"To get to know each other," finished Malfoy, his tone irritated. "Honestly, has that mop of a head impaired your hearing?"
I opened my mouth for a retort, but Dawson interrupted, "Rose, do you have a hearing problem?" He looked at me with sheer interest. I held back a scowl.
"No, Professor," grinding my teeth together. Malfoy looked like he was biting back a smirk.
"Oh, thank goodness. Now, regarding your mission, I want you two to record a journal. This journal must have all your deepest, darkest secrets. Pour your soul into this notebook, perhaps," said Dawson, pulling out a simple, black notebook. "One half of this notebook is yours, Scorpius. The same to you, Rose."
He wanted us to WHAT? I am not some tween girl who keeps a diary and write on and on about some dumb boy she has a crush on. When I was at that age, I rode broomsticks, not a miniature, pink unicorn named Rainbows. Now I'm supposed to write a diary? WITH WANKER ONE?
"I want the book to be written on anything, or how about, everything in your lives. Your school life, friendships, love, anything personal. Don't worry, I won't be reading them, no matter how exciting and intelligent the lives of two sixteen year olds can be," he grinned. I almost rolled my eyes. He was definitely going to read Malfoy's. Bloody pedo. Still, he hadn't mentioned why he wanted us to do this…
"P-Professor, what exactly is the reas-"
"Alright, Professor. When are we to hand this in?" cut Malfoy. I looked at him incredulously. He was okay with this? He had an impatient look about him, but he seemed entirely calm.
Dawson beamed, the bloody fan girl, and said, "Next week. I want every entry to be alternating."
"Who starts?" asked Malfoy, getting to his feet. I stood up quickly as well.
"Ah, choose amongst yourselves," said Dawson, gathering his things. He picked up the signed parchment paper and the quill and put them into a thin emerald box. "I'll be on my way. Feel free to ask any questions anytime you see me. Oh, and don't forget, this mission is completely confidential, so don't tell anyone. Not even cousin Albus, Rose." Dawson smiled and left the classroom.
"Bloody prick," I muttered. Why did he have to single me out? Malfoy had a cousin too! And Desiree Greengrass-Zabini was exactly the quietest person in the Slytherin House. I turned to Malfoy, who was scratching his head, uninterestedly.
He looked up at me and said, "Ladies first. Oh wait, then who goes first?"
I smiled, "Yes quite a predicament, seeing as there are two girls here." He scowled.
He took the notebook, walked up to me, and shoved it into my hands.
"Give it to me after breakfast. And don't bring the ginger entourage either," he sneered. I scowled back. Even though I knew his statement was accurate, seeing as the Weasley cousins would follow me anywhere, I still had to defend them.
"Shut up," I retorted, glaring.
"Clever, Weasel. No idea where you get those pea-sized brains of yours," glowered Malfoy. He put his hands in his pockets and strode out the aisle towards the doors. Malfoy halted, his hand on the door.
"Oh, and don't write a novel. I personally do not want to read forty pages of how awful your life is," he smirked, and with that, he left.
Bloody. Wanker.