Draco didn't think about Snape again until halfway through Defense Against the Dark Arts the next morning. The class, taught by Amycus Carrow, was held on the third floor at ten where the seventh-year Slytherins had class with Gryffindors. There was little pretense these days – Amycus Carrow seemed to want little more than an excuse to practice dark magic. The students learned the Unforgivable curses the last week of September and had been told to practice on each other and the younger kids.
In previous days, this would have led to massive revolt among the student body. No one wanted this. The first days of the Carrow's regime, there was wide defiance among the students. Children refused to follow directions or show up to class. There were the stirrings of a revolution – students set off fireworks and dungbombs in the classrooms and hallways. They magically sealed doors throughout the castle and there was a strong current of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products that led to outbreaks of nosebleeds and fevers in class. The students talked back to the known Death Eaters and showed little fear of consequences. The older students went past the small pranks – Neville Longbottom walked out of class on the first day, when Amycus Carrow introduced himself by casting a Dark Mark over the castle. This was his first lesson – how to cast the spell. Seamus Finnigan followed Neville, as did Parvati and Lavender.
On the same day, Snape walked out of his rooms in the dungeons to find a large purple and yellow banner hung across the Great Hall and it read only one word: Dumbledore. His chair at the center of the teacher's table had been knocked down.
But the Carrows had come prepared; defiance meant an hour of detention with Alecto and Amycus in the dungeons, where you learned to keep your mouth shut.
The uprising among the students was quickly quelled. Little by little, the outbursts stopped, replaced by unkind looks and angry mouths. The students adapted and adjusted, finding covert ways to take care of themselves and each other. They passed around healing potions and looked to McGonagall for protection. She spent several classes talking to the children in hushed voices, imploring them to remain calm and follow directions. She soothed the distressed girls and quietly helped her students work out ways to keep themselves safe and healthy. There was little talking in the corridors now. Students met in common rooms and dormitories.
Hogwarts had fallen silent.
For the first time, House affiliations did not matter. The students quickly learned to care for each other. The Hufflepuffs passed out dittany-based concoctions made under the eye of Sprout and Terry Boot from Ravenclaw readily shared his knowledge of defensive spellwork. The Slytherins were no exception – many of them had no current affiliation with the Death Eaters, particularly the younger students. A few had brothers and sisters in other Houses.
What was distrust turned to camaraderie among many of the students. It was the only safety they had.
Now, halfway through October, Defense Against the Dark Arts was a battle of wills. The students no longer openly fought the Carrows – but they had no power over the students to force them to perform "adequate" dark magic. The malicious intent behind the curse wasn't there. Attempts were no more powerful than a moderate stinging hex. Against that, the Carrows were powerless.
Amycus Carrow wore a crooked smile when Draco walked into the classroom, his stomache turning as he saw the word written on the blackboard: Fiendfyre. His tiny eyes gleamed with excitement.
Draco took his seat by the window, nodding to Crabbe and Goyle as he sat next to them. He glanced out the window and a movement caught his eye: a cloaked figure was sprinting down the lawn and through the gates. He squinted and tried to make out who it was but the figured Apparated upon reaching the gates. Could it be Snape?
Draco turned his attention back to the front of the room, where Amycus had produced a small glass jar filled with a twisting orange flame. He sighed under his breath, wondering if the oaf was really foolish enough to attempt to produce the danger fire in a classroom. Amycus smiled gleefully and asked the class if they knew what in the jar. No one answered.
"Fiendfyre, children," the Death Eater said triumphantly, his yellowing teeth gleaming in his pudgy face.
Pansy Parkinson audibly gasped. Two seats ahead of her, Cormac McLaggen was shaking his head.
"Have something to say, McLaggen?" Amycus asked, his voice low and threatening.
"It's dangerous," McLaggen snapped back with admirable prowess, though he seemed more angry than frightening. "You aren't allowed to –"
"Not allowed?" Amycus laughed derisively and moved his hand to unscrew the jar. "Who will stop me?"
The class gasped. Draco started to stand, already looking to the door. Parvati already had Lavender's arm clutched tightly to her.
But whether Amycus would have made good on his threat, Draco never found out because the next moment, he had dropped the jar and was doubled over the desk, gasping in pain. He clutched his right forearm, face contorted in fear. Without another word to the class, Amycus Carrow rushed out of the classroom.
By then, Draco was completely flabbergasted. Amycus and possibly Snape had been called away by Voldemort but Draco had yet to feel so much as a twinge in his arm. His classmates looked around warily.
"What was that?"
"Why did he just do that?"
The confused muttering filled the large, echoey classroom. A minute passed, then two, then ten. It looked as though Carrow wasn't coming back.
"C'mon then," Seamus stood, lifting his books. The rest of the students slowly followed suit. The fire in the glass jar seemed to have extinguished itself.
And Draco understood almost nothing of what was going on.
He walked out into the empty corridor and down past the statue of the humped witch when a rustling sound stopped him. Instantly, his wand was in his hand. He turned around, wand aloft.
"Who's there?" He demanded. "I'm Draco Malfoy, show yourself!"
He heard a strange scraping noise, like stone grinding against itself. A moment passed and no one revealed themselves. Draco made a decision.
"Homenon Revelio" he whispered, swishing his wand toward the statue. There was another scraping noise and a sudden blur of movement as someone seemed to come out of the statue itself and stumble to a halt several feet away from him.
And Draco found himself staring down a very angry looking Ginny Weasley.
"Shit," she hissed. Her robes were covered in dust and there was an angry looking scratch running from her ear to her cheek.
"What exactly are you doing, Weasley?" He managed to sound arrogant and undaunted, despite the fact that at this point, he was completely confused.
She didn't answer him but responded by pointing her wand at his chest. Her hand was bleeding, two long cuts.
"Answer me, Weasel. What the hell were you doing?"
"Nothing," she ground out. "I was standing by the statue."
He stared, unsure of what to say.
"I'm asking you one more time, Weasley, what –"
His words were cut off by a loud explosion behind him and Draco was knocked off his feet. His wand flew out of his hand and he quickly scrambled to his feet. Looking around wildly, he snatched up his wand from where it had rolled near the statue.
There was no one in the corridor. And Ginny Weasley had disappeared.
What the devil was going on?
Draco started down the stairs. He needed to go back to the dorms and nap. Or cry. Possibly both.