Year Six: Harry Potter and the Secret Letters

Chapter Eight: A Cheating Sphere

Warnings: For those of you who did happen to like Snape, let's play a little game… (Grins evilly) I have realized that I have hinted Snape with Harry, Draco, and Lily already… So, let's see how many more I can hint at…!

It was the very first day of term, and Draco was already feeling irritated. His godfather, as the Head of House, had ruefully scoured the breakfast table that morning for each of his students schedules, approving them before allowing the Slytherins to run off to prepare for class. When Severus finally reached the pureblooded blond, however, the man barely even spared him a censorious glance for the disrespect shown to him the previous evening. As Snape passed on to Blaise and Pansy, Malfoy dismounted his bench and left the Great Hall angrily, muttering foul obscenities behind the man's back. When he realized that he was wondering around without an actual destination, he checked his schedule resentfully.

Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor: S. Snape.

Figures… he thought to himself, heading for the owlery since he had plenty of time before class. After all, he had to give Harry back his sphere. The cloak, on the other hand, Draco had kept for later use, just in case Snape was right and it came in handy. Once at the top of the small, circular, owl-infested tower, he called Aristotle to him. He pulled a box, just large enough to hold the sphere, out of his robes and tied it to the bird's leg. Inside was a short note saying, "Try not to lose it this time. –Judas"

"Alright, Aeris. Give it to Harry," he told his owl as he sent it out of the owlery window. He watched it until it turned around the corner of the castle and disappeared from sight, and then he left the tower to start for class.

He reached the locked DADA door only a minute or so before his friends and waited absently for Snape to lug his billowing-cloaked arse up to the fourth floor. His aggravated thoughts were momentarily forgotten as Blaise nudged his arm and pointed at the stairs. There approached the Gryffindor Trio: the girl speaking animatedly and motioning to her numerous textbooks, the redhead was smirking brightly at his, no doubt, break-full schedule, and the boy most on Draco's mind was simply listening distractedly, hand in his pocket, and most likely daydreaming about the Quidditch Captain badge shining brightly on the front of his robes.

"It seems Potter's Gryffindor Captain," Blaise pointed out, also having noticed the obvious branding. "I suppose it's seeker vs. seeker yet again this year." He lightly flicked Draco's own badge, indicating what he meant. Just then, the DADA door burst open and there stood Snape in the doorway.

What the Bloody Hell? Draco thought, glancing back at the stairs towards the Great Hall where Snape was supposed to have been. Did he simply floo powder himself inside just to get the grand effect, or something?

He stepped aside impatiently and sternly hissed, "Inside."

Students obediently shuffled past their professor and claimed seats throughout the room. Unlike the night before, the early sunlight coming in from the windows illuminated photographs on the wall of witches and wizards in all sorts of agonizing conditions. With a roll of his eyes, Malfoy decided to tune out his godfather for this particular lesson. When Blaise asked why, Draco merely shrugged and explained that he just didn't feel like it. After all, Snape had already taken the liberty to snap at the Granger girl before everyone was even seated.

"I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention," Severus began ironically, glaring at the faces before him. His gaze lingered momentarily on Harry and something flared up inside Draco, as if the man was threatening a victim that Malfoy had specifically claimed as his own. While the blond was preoccupied with calming down his sudden anger, Severus continued on to pronounce their previous professors as inadequate and started identifying the ailments in the surrounding picture frames. After a few minutes, a high pitched voice interrupted Snape's lecture and Draco found the student bold enough to do so worthy of his 'fullest attention.'

"Has an Inferius been seen, then? Is it definite? Is He using them?" asked Parvati Patil. Gryffindors… Malfoy thought, rolling his eyes once again and shaking his head as he looked away from her.

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past, which means you would be well-advised to assume he would use them again," Professor Snape answered, retreating back to the front of the class. You of all people would know what the Dark Lord is using, wouldn't you? Draco thought."Now, I believe that you are all novices in nonverbal spells. Can anyone tell me what their advantages are?"

As usual, Hermione's hand shot into the air and Draco raised an eyebrow at her. For being a muggle-born, even he had to admit that the girl was uncannily intelligent and well-versed. Why she was not placed in Ravenclaw would never make sense to him. There was an elaborate pause in which Snape waited for anyone other than Granger to raise their hand, but in the end had no choice.

"Your adversary has no warning of what kind of magic you are about to perform," explained Hermione expertly, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word out of the Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," Severus said dismissively, resulting in Draco's annoyance springing back into place. Could Snape ever just allow someone else to be brilliant in a subject?! The whole class had soon been assigned to pair up and practice nonverbal jinxes and shield charms.

He and Blaise had began on the opposite side of the room than Harry and Ron. Nearly the entire lesson had passed by when Snape finally pushed Ron aside and retrieved his place across from Potter. It all occurred so quickly to Draco, his eyes glancing quickly between the two. He stepped forward, his wand-hand raised and a halting word on his breath, when Harry beat him to it and yelled, "Protego!"

Potter's shield charm had been so great that it knocked Snape off of his feet and rammed him into a nearby desk. Draco stopped himself from continuing forward in slight shock and surprise at the power behind the spell. He looked at the scarred boy apprehensively and somewhat impressed.

Snape straightened himself and snapped at Harry savagely. "Do you remember me telling you that we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?"

"Yes," the Gryffindor swallowed, appearing a bit nervous and defensive.

"Yes, sir," Snape corrected.

"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor." The statement seemed to just tumble right off of the boy's tongue without his consent, as if it was the most natural response in the world. His expression of fear and revelation afterwards said differently. Still, Draco couldn't stop the smirking grin from blossoming on his face. About time… he thought to himself, always wishing for someone to stand up against the man; all his anger abated. He turned back to Blaise who was fighting between a smirk and a scowl at Harry's defiance. It was at moments like these when Draco knew Harry was supposed to be in Slytherin: rule-breaking, rebellion, stubbornness, talking back, and, at times, extremely brilliant and cunning.

Potter rightfully earned himself a detention and shortly afterwards the class had ended. While most of the other students filed out of the room, Snape approached the blond and warned between clenched teeth, "If you ever show me such blatant disrespect again in my classroom, Malfoy, your father will be the first to hear about it."

"My father?" Draco asked snidely, smirking, as the wheels in his head already began to spin in search for a quick-witted retort. "Considering your recent secret rendezvous with my mother, I would think you would go running off to her sniveling if anything were to happen with me. Surely your married lover will come to your rescue?" Swinging his school bag over his shoulder, he turned on his heel and exited, much like he had the previous night, leaving a fuming DADA professor in his wake.

He didn't have any other classes until his afternoon double Potions lesson, and so he decided he'd go out onto the Hogwarts grounds to pass the time where Snape wouldn't expect to look for him. Claiming a boulder next to the lake, he threw his bag aside and pulled out his wand. For a good hour, he practiced trying to levitate the Giant squid out of the water without saying a word. Once or twice, a single tentacle broke the surface, but he wasn't sure whether that was due to his spell or just the beast stretching its limbs. After a while of failing in his attempts, he laid back on the rock and breathed a deep sigh of the fresh air. Strangely, though, something reached his nose that was not simply nature's goodness. It smelt of treacle tart… and holly leaves… and there was just some sort of refreshing, woody scent about it. He looked around him in search of the source, but there was no one outside and nothing unusual about. Then the idea struck him. The sphere…? He removed the Transfer Sphere from his pocket, and sure enough, the smell had been emitting from it, Harry's silver script shining brightly from inside.

Judas? Are you in class?

Draco blinked at it, surprised at this new realization at the orb's abilities. "Um, no, no. I don't have any lessons until the afternoon."

So, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?

"No, not at all. What is it, Harry?"

Nothing really. I just wanted to apologize for not responding to you last night, and thank you for returning the sphere to me. How did you get it back from Professor Snape?

"He had no right to take it, so I simply took it back. Don't worry about it."

But how did you know he had it in the first place?

Draco thought momentarily for a cover-up story. He couldn't tell Harry that Snape had just given it to him; that wouldn't make sense coming from Judas. "I thought I saw him holding it before he put it back in his cloak pocket."

Oh, I see. I'm sorry.

"Don't be. It's not a big deal." Draco frowned at himself. He wasn't sure when he had become so casual toward Potter, but he reasoned that he was only acting like that to help his faux character win Harry over. "By the way, I heard about your little… encounter with Snape this morning. It sounded brilliant, Harry!"

I shouldn't have said it. I honestly don't know why I did. Still… it did feel kind of nice to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"Would you do it again if you had the chance?"

I suppose… Maybe… I dunno.

Draco gave a short laugh. Harry's indecision seemed just like something Potter would do. Why Malfoy found it suddenly humorous, he wasn't sure.

Hey, I know this is off of the topic, but didn't you say that you were gonna start telling me more about yourself? I haven't heard a single thing about you since my birthday.

A victorious smirk spread across the blond's face. "Actually, the deal was that I'd tell you one thing about me for every letter that you sent. You haven't written me a letter since before your birthday, not since you got the sphere." There was a long moment of silence before Harry spoke again.

Okay, that's true, but still…

Draco burst out laughing, practically able to hear the stubbornness, defeat and sarcasm in the other's voice. "Tricked you, did I?"

A little. You knew it would happen, too, didn't you?

"I hoped that it would work. It just shows how well I know you."

And again I am reminded at how little I know about you. Let's see… Let's total up all that I know: you have an owl named Aristotle who likes to bite, you've been at Hogwarts with me the entire time I've been going to school here, you fancy me, your favorite color is silver, and you like to trick me to prove a point. Is that about all?

With a chuckle, Malfoy added, "You know that I hated Lockhart as much as you did."

Oh, gee, that practically wraps your personality up in a nutshell.

Draco laughed again at his sarcasm. "You know what? I can't remember the last time I laughed like this…"

There was a momentary pause, and then, Really?

"Yeah… Mine and my friend's families aren't really the laughing type."

Sorry to hear that. Mine weren't either; the Dursleys, I mean. That's why I spend so much time at the Burrow with the Weasleys. They're always having a good time, especially Fred and George.

"The Dursleys? They sound familiar, but I can't remember who they are."

Oh, they're my only living relatives: Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and my cousin Dudley. I'll have to explain them to you someday, once we can have a normal conversation over a butterbeer at Hogsmeade.

"That day seems a far time off."

It does, but that doesn't mean that we won't get there, eventually, right?

"How is it that you always seem to be optimistic?"

… I'm not always optimistic, actually. It's with Ron and Hermione's help that I'm always able to see the bright side of things as well as the dark side. Which one I choose to act on, however, is consistently different.

They both seemed to fall silent as they thought over the many actions of the great Harry Potter in his fight against the Dark Lord. Draco knew that Harry was thinking about his godfather and how it was his poor choices which led to his death. "Listen, Harry, about Siri—"

Hermione just got back. She's yelling at me for not doing my Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. I'll talk to you later.

"… 'Kay. See you." The blond wasn't sure if the other's sudden leave was really due to Hermione's nagging, or if it was because he didn't want to speak of Sirius. Even still, Draco tucked his things away and headed towards the Great Hall for lunch before his Potions class.

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Malfoy arrived at the dungeon's Potions Classroom with Zabini and Nott on each side of him. Draco had no words to express how glad he was that Crabbe and Goyle were unable to attend this lesson with them. It certainly felt more dignified to be flanked with two intelligent purebloods than the Dunce Boulders. Blaise had even lost a lot of his irritable nature since the previous night on the train, and Theodore had always been more agreeable, one who was on the kind side according to Slytherin standards and who's knowledge often reminded him of Granger's. The three had stopped outside the classroom door where the Gryffindor Trio, Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff, four Ravenclaws, and Pansy Parkinson were already there, waiting.

The four Slytherins stood together speaking over what their new professor may be like considering his taste in Gryffindors. After a few minutes, the door opened and out stepped a pleasant looking Darnay Toadseye. "Good afternoon, everyone. Merlin, there's so few of you," he noted, a bit disappointed, but immediately perked up again. "Ah, well, the more convinced I am of how well you perform. Please, come inside," he offered, stepping aside and allowing the twelve students to pass him.

In the room, there were three cauldrons with circular desks surrounding them like a planetary ring; at each round desk sat four chairs. The students directly broke up and grouped predictably together, each house sitting only with their own, and Macmillan joining the Gryffindors. Toadseye followed them inside and approached the front of the class. Tapping the black board with his wand, the name Professor Darnay Toadseye appeared elaborately in small, clean script. "Welcome to your sixth year potions class," he introduced. "I am Professor Toadseye and will be taking Professor Snape's old position of Potions Master, seeing as he has moved on to Defense against the Dark Arts. I can only hope that I will live up to his… infamous name." A couple of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws chuckled at the not-so-difficult standards the Darnay obviously set for himself. "I also hope that I will be able to learn more about you over the course of this term," he continued, beginning to pace before the front two cauldrons. "I was told much about each of you, however it was proven to me last night that I may have been misinformed. So, each of you are starting with a clean slate to introduce yourselves with. Understood?" There was a general sound of approval. "Brilliant. Well then, no more chatter, time to begin our first lesson.

"Before each of you is a potion that I have already completed brewing. First is this," he approached the Ravenclaw table. "Can anyone tell me what it is, and what it does?" Hermione's hand once again shot into the air habitually. "Hermione?"

"It's Veritaserum, sir, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth."

"Very good. It is often used in the Ministry or other such greatly influential circumstances where the truth in necessary in a life-or-death situation. However, due to the more common ingredients, it is often abused and utilized inappropriately. Unfortunate as it is, there is the truth. Next," he moved over to the Gryffindor table, "is this… disgusting looking substance. Yes, Hermione?"

The slow, mud-like bubbling was more than familiar to the girl and her hand was raised before Darnay had even asked the question. "It's Polyjuice Potion, sir. When added with something containing DNA, it can change any person into that who's genetic information was added."

"Excellent. Although this one contains a few more difficult ingredients to come across, and it takes an extremely long time to brew, it also has been made by the everyday potioneer. Of course, careful attention to directions is vital, as with any other potion. After a month of brewing, I can't imagine how disappointing it would be to realize you stirred once in the wrong direction and the whole thing was ruined. And lastly," he continued on to the Slytherin table. "is this delicious scented concoction. Taking a deep inhale of the twirling fumes, he released a satisfied sigh and looked around the room. "Anyone?"

"It's Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world." answered Hermione, blushing lightly and earning a bemused smile from the new teacher.

"You could tell from the mother-of-pearl sheen?" Darnay asked with a friendly smile.

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals. It's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and…" she stopped talking, her face turning closer to a scarlet color, as she realized she was announcing to the whole class what it was that attracted her.

To Draco's left, Theo gave her the smallest of smiles, probably unable to contain himself at how cute the girl looked, blushing the way she was. Blaise didn't seem to notice, but Malfoy took note to ask him about it later. While Darnay was busy awarding Gryffindor twenty points for Hermione's brilliance and going on to explain how Amortentia is used in today's wizarding world, Draco stared at the pink and gold swirling liquid before him. He could smell red wine, and almonds, and that distinct 'new-house' smell. There was also a slightly woody scent, much like the one emitting from the sphere earlier that day, and therefore it reminded him profoundly of the black-haired Gryffindor across the room. It was odd, but it was definitely attracting him, if nothing else. Momentarily, Draco wondered what it would be like if he snuck some of this love potion into Harry's pumpkin juice one day and just happened to be the first person he saw. It would certainly make Judas' job a lot simpler.

"And what about that one, Professor?" asked Ernie, drawing Malfoy's mind away from his musings and causing the whole class to focus on a cauldron sitting on Darnay's desk. It was a pure gold color and droplets were leaping inside of it merrily. Draco sat up straighter to try to see into it.

"Ah, yes, thank you, Ernie. This little ball of energy is a fun thing call Felix Felicis." Hermione audibly gasped. "It is literally liquid luck… and by the end of this lesson, one of you will be leaving with a vile of it." A murmur sprouted up immediately throughout the classroom. "It's desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, when brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all of your endeavors tend to succeed… well, at least until the effect wears off."

"Then, why don't people drink it all of the time, sir?" asked one of the Ravenclaws, Terry Boot.

"Good question, Terry, thank you. If taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence. It's like having too much of a good thing, highly toxic in large quantities.

"Have you ever had any, sir?" asked yet another Ravenclaw, Michael Corner.

"Yes, Michael, I have. Once, a few years ago. A couple tablespoons with breakfast, and a perfect day follows. And that is exactly how much I am offering you." He pulled out a tiny vial from his robe pocket containing the golden potion. "There is enough here for twelve hours, from dawn till dusk. But please note that it is illegal to use in organized competitions, like Quidditch, your N.E.W.T.s, and class elections. So you are to only use in on an ordinary day, and watch it become extraordinary!" A kind grin blossomed on Toadseye's features, as if it pleased him greatly to see the excited faces of his students.

"So, one last thing to say, how do you earn it? Simple. Whoever can brew the best Draught of the Living Dead will get it. Now, I understand that it is above your abilities at this time, so I don't expect perfection, but whoever's closest gets the prize. You have about an hour left of class. Begin."

Instantaneously, the class erupted as students pulled out cauldrons, books, knives, vials, and ran to the front of the class to retrieve ingredients. Harry called Darnay over to their table reluctantly, realizing that he probably didn't stand a chance winning the prize. "Professor, Ron and I don't have any of the supplies. We didn't think we'd make this class, remember?"

"Ah, don't worry about that. I sent in orders to Flourish and Blotts last night for you both. Your supplies should arrive tomorrow morning. Until then, you'll have to share books with Hermione and Ernie. There a spare cauldrons in the back," Toadseye pointed out.

Malfoy, on the other hand, was working fervently already, flipping through his copy of Advanced Potions Making and adding weights to his scales. The only thing that was running through his mind at that moment was how that little bottle would help him succeed in his job for the Dark Lord… or, if he was truly lucky, succeed in not completing the job. Either way, his father would want him to get that vial!

Halfway through it all, Draco was having a hell of a time trying to complete his potion, and it was all due to that damn Gryffindor! The scent of the woody Amortentia that reminded him so much of Harry, combined with the retched distraction of Harry's foul potion on the other side of the room, was simply driving him mad. He couldn't concentrate. At long last, he angrily pulled out the Transfer Sphere and his wand out of his robes and magically shrunk the orb so that it could be held in his fist without anyone else seeing it. He pocketed his wand, then leaned his elbow on the table and his chin on his closed fist. "Harry…" he whispered into his closed hand, frustration bubbling through him and into his voice.

Across the room, Hermione, who was also struggling with the color of her potion, suddenly looked up from her book and turned to Harry. She sniffed the air and frowned. "Harry," she whispered to the boy on her right. "Your potion is starting to smell like wine."

"That's not my potion," he grimaced, the odor radiating from his cauldron becoming a horribly sharp contrast from the Amortentia that also still steamed on the other side of the classroom.

"Well, it's coming from you," she concluded stubbornly, returning to her own Draught of the Living Dead.

The scarred boy considered her for a moment, having learned not to take her assertions lightly, and began looking around him for the source of this sophisticated and bitter smell. He found his hand hovering over his pocket, and he froze as he considered the option. Abruptly thrusting his hand into his robes, he snatched out his Sphere and stared at it. Inside was written just a singular word: Harry…

Not caring if Hermione heard him he began speaking into the orb. "Judas?"

Yes. I was just going to ask if you could please stop—

"Did you know that these things smell when you talk into them?"

Draco's irritation elevated at being interrupted. Only when it needs to get your attention to alert you that something is being transferred. Now—

"That's brilliant! Did you think of that?"

Um, no. The anger in him began to spurt and die out at Harry's blatant and unintentional compliment. I just realized about that today, too, when you talked to me before lunch.

"That's amazing. I would never have thought of something like that."

Um… Thank you…

"Hey, do you happen to be good at potions? I'm in class right now and I'm about to suffocate the entire student body with these damn fumes…"

Draco's mind was sputtering. He had only planned on yelling at the boy for being a complete idiot, and here he was being asked for advise in one of his best subjects. Yeah, I do well in Potions. What are you trying to do right now?

"I'm trying to make the Draught of Living Death, but I can't get any juice out of these god-forsaken valerian roots!"

Draco looked at his own root that he had just finished chopping before pulling out his sphere to scold the other boy. Taking one of the slices, he laid the flat side of his silver knife and pressed as hard as he could. Juice poured out of it like none of the other students had imagined. Try crushing them with the flat side of your knife. It releases the juice better than chopping it. Draco glanced over that the green-eyed boy at the table across the room from him. Harry had borrowed a silver dagger from Hermione and pressed the flat side against the dried up roots. The juice flowed out of them, and as he added it all to his potion, the smell immediately faded away and the liquid turned lilac. With a sigh of relief from ridding himself of at least one distraction, he started to go back to his potion when he realized Harry was still talking to him.

"Perfect! Thank you! How did you know to do that?"

I've always kind of had a knack for it. Do you need any more help before I go. I have less thank ten minutes to finish this assignment.

"Um, yeah, actually. The book says to stir counter clockwise, but it's not getting any lighter in color."

Draco sat motionless in thought for a moment as he racked his brains for what he could do to help. Having a Potions Master as a godfather had always given him a step up in trick theories on potion-making. Try… stirring it clockwise for every seven counterclockwise stir. That should work. If not, I'm not too sure what else you could do… He continued to watch Harry as he followed his advice and added in the clockwise stir. The next thing either of them knew, Harry's draught was becoming an increasingly light pink color, just as the book had indicated.

"It worked! Merlin, Judas! How do you know all of this?!"

Let's just say that I have a very talented potions maker in the family.

"Wicked…" Harry whispered into his sphere as he continued lightening his potion and earning consistent glares from Hermione for cheating.

Don't mention it. I have to go, though.

"Alright, thanks. I'll talk to you later."

Draco shoved the sphere back into his pocket so as to continue with his own potion, but just as he was adding the juice, Toadseye called that time was up and asked for everyone to stop stirring. Malfoy's mouth dropped open in anger and surprise. No… No! He couldn't possibly have just lost his chance at that potion just because Harry asked him to! Dear Merlin in Azkaban, what the hell was he thinking?!

Low and behold, as soon as Darnay passed Harry's cauldron, he proclaimed the Gryffindor the winner of the Felix Felicis and thanked the others for trying so diligently. Malfoy never felt so cheated! When they were dismissed, Draco was one of the first out of the door, followed closely by the Gryffindor Trio. He could barely hear Ron ask his best friend, "How did you do that?"

"Just got lucky, I guess," Harry replied.

That bastard… Draco thought, enraged with himself that he got tricked out of a prize that was rightfully his, and then wasn't even given the credit for it by the boy that was supposed to be falling in love with him soon. Cursed 'Chosen One!' He could feel Harry's eyes on the back of his head and it only bothered him further, He sharply made a turn into a connecting passage that led to the Slytherin Dormitories.

TBC…

AN/ So here's another 5,000 words to entertain you. There was more H/D interaction here, so I hope that helped. And don't let Draco's anger get you down. He's simply short tempered. And you would be upset too if you were in his position. Well, sorry for the late update. Ta-ta!

Also, all rights to the idea of the Transfer Spheres emitting a scent go to my dear friend Chyane (AKA Firaa Nemishu) who might be introduced to you in a different fic that I will probably post on at a later date.

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