Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K Rowling.

Chapter 43: The Scheming Slytherin

That night, I had a meeting with Dumbledore. He had requested such. What the meeting was about, I did not know. Would it be about Slughorn? Voldemort? The one-armed man?

I assumed that it was going to be about the things he needed to show and teach me, but what those were, specifically, escaped me.

Whatever happened, I would just try to confirm that the ring was destroyed. I had to be subtle about it, if I made it out as if I knew about the horcrux, then Dumbledore could find out that I knew more than I should.

An owl fluttered down and landed in front of me. I frowned, it was dinner, owls usually came during breakfast. I untied the small envelope tied to its claws and unfurled it.

I glanced around, Hermione hadn't come to dinner yet, Ron was engrossed in his meal.

Hello Brobdingnagian Blockhead, I have something I need to talk to you about. Can you meet me at 6?

The letter wasn't signed, it didn't matter.

The letter crumpled up into ash in my hands. I stared at the spot for a couple of seconds, then let out a tired sigh. My plate was full of ash.

"Who was that from?" Ron frowned at the pile of ash on my silver plate.

"Fan mail." I shrugged indifferently and took a new plate. "Happens sometimes. They don't usually do the whole 'disintegrate into ash' thing but this one got a little creative."

Ron shrugged and didn't seem to think more of it.

An evening which suddenly had two meetings. I was a busy man.

-()-

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good." I crept along the halls like a thief. The reason why?

There wasn't one. One couldn't guess that I was meeting with my future wife. Still, there was some fun in the thought that we were meeting in secrecy.

Greengrass' name was in the same place it had been when I had sought her last year. The room she had occupied and seemingly made her own.

My feet led me up the staircases, leaving me to think about nothing except the impending conversation. My fingers wouldn't stay still, they fidgeted worse than a nervous teenager. I had no idea what to expect from the coming encounter. Would she be mad? Would she be friendly? Has something happened to prompt this meeting? Was it the lack of 'things happening' that prompted this meeting?

I didn't know. I could only guess. Guess I did and it made me feel like a book without letters.

I came around the corner and the door was suddenly in front of me. I let out a deep breath, it was so easy to just turn around and disappear. Greengrass would never even know I was here, just outside, mustering courage, deciding, thinking rationally.

I pushed the door open gently, it squeaked like a mouse and revealed the warm interior. It was different from before, much different. Plants stretched the walls like veins and colourful flowers hung from the ceiling like chandeliers. It felt more. . . welcoming.

"Hello Potter, thanks for coming." Greengrass stood up from an armchair, her hands folded behind her back.

"Was there a reason you wanted to see me?" I walked in and observed the room casually. The door shut behind me with a muted thud.

"Obviously." Greengrass tilted her head at me. "I would not bring you here for no reason."

"Obviously," I repeated.

A frowning storm emerged on Greengrass' face but disappeared in a heartbeat; the sky was clear once again.

"I have a…request." Greengrass walked over to one of the windows and stared out. I couldn't see the look on her face; I imagined it would be an old, shapeless rock.

"Alright. . . What is it?"

Greengrass cleared her throat. "You're pretty good in a fight."

I blinked rapidly. "What?" I exclaimed. "Did you just give me a compliment?" My eyebrows were higher than Ben Davies.

Greengrass whipped around like a hurricane, her blonde hair flinging. "Yes." Greengrass gritted her teeth. "You're already making me regret it."

I shrugged. "Okay then. So why on earth have you complimented me then? I hadn't expected you to do that under the harshest of torture."

The Slytherin girl rolled her eyes. "I certainly won't do it again, that's for sure." Greengrass raised her head and looked up to meet my gaze. "I want your help."

"With what?"

"Everything." Greengrass narrowed her eyes. "If I am going to be your wife, I need to be able to defend myself."

I opened my mouth and closed it quickly. I shook my head and had to restrain a dark chuckle. "You want me to train you," I said, not expecting an answer. "The answer is 'no', unfortunately."

Greengrass arched a brow. "Really? Why? You brought me into this mess, you owe me this."

I shook my head. "You're at Hogwarts now. You're safe."

"What about the time when I am not?" she pressed on, relentless.

"You're not stupid enough to stay somewhere the wards aren't good enough."

"Perhaps I will slip?"

I chuckled. "Then you are a brobdingnagian blockhead."

The corner of Greengrass' lips curled. "Well done, stealing one of mine."

I shook my head, a small smile on my face. "Yup. Ironically enough, it fits you better."

The girl rolled her eyes. "That's just blatantly incorrect. You won't help me learn anything, even though you are obliged to."

I shrugged. "I've had this debate before, with someone else, trust me, I won't change my mind now."

Greengrass' blue gaze was locked on me for a moment, she bit her lip, as if in deep thought. "You're a stubborn specimen, I give up."

I feigned surprise. "Really? Daphne Greengrass conceded defeat? I never would have believed it."

The girl in question sighed. "You're very immature, you know."

I shrugged. "Was there anything else? Otherwise, I'll do both of us a favour and leave." I turned my back on the frowning girl and took a couple of steps towards the door.

"Yes!" the girl shouted across the room.

I turned around with a pair of raised eyebrows. "Really?"

She was chewing on her lips, looking torn and desperate.

"Really," the girl confirmed. She closed her eyes for a second and sighed. "I. . ." Greengrass trailed off.

The girl almost collapsed into an armchair. She groaned loudly, her face was twisted into a grimace.

"You alright?" I said with a frown of concern.

"No." The girl opened her eyes, still grimacing.

I found myself sitting down in the armchair opposite to hers.

"Potter," Greengrass began. "I'm gonna be honest here…" The girl pursed her lips. "I just had a little bit of a fight with my friends and wanted to get some different company." Greengrass' sea-blue eyes met mine. "You did a fairly good job last time."

"Oh really?" I said.

Greengrass sighed tiredly. "You're really awful, you know."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Anyway, I guess I just wanted someone else to talk to." Greengrass lookee past me out of one window.

"Right, good," I said. "Thing is, I have a transfiguration essay that needs to be written."

The blonde girl looked at me oddly. "It's due tomorrow."

"Why do you think I need to do the essay?" I said dryly.

"We got it a week ago," Greengrass stated.

"So?"

"So why haven't you done it yet?" Greengrass tilted her head and observed me with a frown.

I smiled weakly. "Ever heard of procrastination?"

"You procrastinate?" the girl said with a pair of raised brows.

I snorted. "You don't?"

"No." Greengrass leaned back. "It's just…I thought you were better than that."

I shrugged. "I am, surprisingly, human."

She held her hands up "Okay." Then she narrowed her eyes on me. "You don't just say that so that you can get away from me right? Because it's only right after six, you still have plenty of time."

"No. I actually have to do it." I smiled and rolled my eyes. "That's a good excuse though, I'll make sure to use it in the future. And for the record, I don't have 'plenty of time'."

Greengrass rolled her eyes. "Of course, you must be very busy."

"Indeed, some people have better things to get up to than tricking people to come to their secret rooms."

The girl closed her eyes and exhaled sharply. "Right." Then the eyes snapped open. "But what are the 'better things' you have to do?"

"I-"

"You're not seeing a girl right?" Greengrass was looking at me through the slits of her eyes, like a snake.

"No." I smiled suavely. "I'm seeing five girls."

Greengrass rolled her eyes.

"That's why it is so time consuming. Satisfying one is easy; five is decently challenging."

"How amusing." Greengrass smiled sweetly. "There is a flaw in your story though."

I raised my eyebrows. "Only one?"

She nodded seriously. "Yes. There is no way you're able to satisfy even one girl." Her lips curled into a mocking smile. "Anyway, do you actually have something to do or…?"

"I do, actually." I ran a hand through my hair. "I need to be done with the essay by eight."

Greengrass paused for a second, seemingly thinking something over. "We…I could show you my essay, then you could finish it quicker."

I opened my mouth and closed it. "You would show me your essay?"

Greengrass shrugged. "It could be a cunning plan of mine to get you to fail transfiguration."

I nodded. "It could be, you can never trust a Slytherin."

Greengrass summoned her bag from a corner. "Indeed, it's a shame Gryffindors are so gullible." The girl handed me a sheet of paper and gave me an expectant look.

"You're not expecting something in return here, right?"

She gave me a deadpan look. "You really are a naive ninnyhammer, aren't you?"

I chuckled and snatched the essay out of her grip. "And you really are a scheming Slytherin, aren't you?"

-()-

-Draco-

Dumbledore's Army from last year was evil. But what they started off with was a decent idea, an idea which could be improved. Most of our teachers were adequate this year, but there were always people who struggled no matter who taught them.

A glance at Vincent or Greggory would confirm this beyond reasonable doubt.

I was going to start a study group; not a study group to breed rebellion or violence, but a study group for everyone. Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw.

I knew that only people from my house would attend, the rest were scared of me, but still, when people learned that I was doing something good, perhaps they would try it out.

The door to the common room slammed open with a bang, the conversation around quieted. A pair of seventh years entered, laughing loudly.

"Did you see his face!?" one of them exclaimed, an excited grin on his face.

"Not even Potter would have done it better," the other one, with a small scar across his chin, said.

I frowned where I was sitting.

The two of them went up to their dormitory, with conversation starting up again as they left.

In my periphery, someone sat down in the armchair right next to me.

"Draco, I need you to pretend to be upset with me."

I blinked rapidly. "What?" I turned my face to the person speaking.

Daphne nodded expectantly. "I need you to pretend-"

"I heard what you said," I interrupted. I gave her a warning look. "Why do you need me to be upset with you?"

Daphne flicked her hair behind her shoulder. "Just trust me, okay?"

"Daphne, I-"

"Please, Draco," Daphne begged. "Just trust me here, please? I know what I am doing, please just do this." Her blue eyes shone with a wet gleam. "Do it for me."

I wanted to scream and say no, but she had suffered so much, if I could give her the slightest of relief. . . "I…" I allowed myself a loud sigh. "I'll do it." My eyes bore into her like drills, hard like metal, soft like silk. "Is this about Potter?"

I dreaded to know the answer, though I knew it before I opened my mouth.

Daphne opened her mouth and closed it. She stood up and turned away from me, forcing me to stare at the back of her head. "Draco, you know about the situation. I have to do the best with what I have." Her shoulders relaxed. "If you help me, perhaps the situation can improve." The girl sent a glance over her shoulder, a warm smile was gracing her face. "For both of us."

Daphne left. Her steps echoed like chandeliers crashing into the ground.

Not her, us.

For the first time since she told me the nasty news about her contract, I allowed myself to hope.

Hope of walking beside her; her delicate hand in mine. Hope of running my hands through the beautiful blonde strands of hair. Hope of seeing her smiling at me, like I was enough.

I stared at the entrance to the girl's dormitory, where she had just disappeared. I could try, I mused. There had never been hope of getting her before, but if she had a plan, I could help her.

I shiver went up my spine. Her plan could, in the end, only be one thing.

Killing Potter.

-()-

-Harry-

Daphne's essay was better than I expected, yet it lacked some expertise. However, it helped tremendously with what I wrote about. I almost felt bad for her; my essay was essentially her essay -with a couple of major improvements.

The gargoyle protecting Dumbledore's office came into view and I let out a shaky breath. I had thought about little else on the walk here; every word to be said, every word not to be said.

I would soon be line-walking. One small step wrong and I would be sent tumbling into an abyss, and then, I would fall and fall and fall. I had no idea how far it was down to the ground.

I ascended the stairs and knocked three times resolutely.

"Come in, Harry."

The door swung open with a whine, revealing the headmaster in muted, blue robes. He gestured for me to sit down, his blackened hand making me wince in sympathy.

"Is that alright, sir?" I nodded at his hand.

Dumbledore grimaced. "Had you been anyone else, I would have assured you that yes, it is alright." He folded his hands and his blue eyes appeared dull and dreadful. "It's getting worse."

"I'm sorry, sir."

Dumbledore smiled serenely. "I am too, but not for me." His old eyes looked down on me.

It felt like I was wearing a backpack, and that someone put an extra rock inside each passing day. "We'll make do, somehow, we'll make do."

Dumbledore tilted his head. "I still wonder who the 'we' are in this context." He got up from his seat and walked over to a cabinet. "But I don't have the time to contemplate those matters anymore. I'm running out of time."

I didn't say anything.

"There's something I need to tell you." The headmaster turned around with a vial in his hand. A stone structure floated over, a pensive. "There are more memories I would like for you to see, but this is the most important one."

"Whose memory is it?"

Dumbledore smiled. "This one is professor Slughorn's."

"So he helped you in the end?"

The headmaster poured the thick substance into the pensive, making it swirl in all colours and lights. "Not quite, you'll see."

He dived in and I followed soon after.

I arrived in Hogwarts, inside a grand office. Slughorn's office presumably. Only he wasn't alone.

A large, round table stood tall in the middle. With a dozen students around it. Most, I did not recognise at all; the one thing they all had in common was that they bore robes with gleaming seams and shining silk.

My eyes landed on a black-haired girl on the other end of the table from where I stood. She was beautiful, her features were delicate, her dark eyes seducing stars.

My fists clenched. I wanted to take my hands and throttle her alive. Feel her body spasm as life went out, see the stars meet a horrible and cold end.

Dumbledore remained impassive beside me. The scene played out. The young Tom Riddle flattered the younger Slughorn expertly.

Then the scene clouded, as if someone had used incendio on a bucket of water. Then the steam disappeared and Slughorn was red-faced, screaming at the young Riddle to get out.

When I came out again, I frowned and settled in the chair.

"Not very straight forward, I know," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "As you no doubt noticed, the memory has been tampered with."

"One can do that?"

"Indeed, it is difficult, but possible." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "I need you to do something for me, Harry."

"What is it?" I asked, not keen on jumping around the subject like a scared rabbit.

"Get me the real memory."

"I see." I paused for a second, "What do you think it will tell us?"

"It will confirm a theory of mine, I believe. And if it does, it will provide some crucial detail for that theory." Dumbledore frowned.

I raised my eyebrows. "How straight-forward of you," I pointed out. I sent him a pointed look. "What is your theory?"

I felt my heartbeat in my chest, had Dumbledore reached the answer my master had?

Dumbledore locked his gaze into mine for a couple of moments. "It's about how he survived the rebounded killing curse."

I nodded, trying to look as if I had no idea what the answer was. "It wasn't just luck?"

The headmaster chuckled darkly. "Lord Voldemort will leave very little down to luck, Harry. And his life is the last thing he would leave to luck."

"So how'd he do it? What did he use to achieve survival and resurrect himself?"

Dumbledore tilted his head and observed me. "You assume the two are linked," he said. "Curious." He stroked his beard. "I am going to ask you a question, Harry, and you can chose whether you want to lie again, or tell the truth."

I nodded jerkily.

"Do you already know how he survived?"

I paused for a moment, which was all Dumbledore needed.

"I see," he said. "So you do know how." He shook his head sadly. "May I ask how long you've known for?"

I sat silent for a moment, thinking rationally. "

"In the chamber, there is a hidden library, I found a book there the first day I walked in. A book which wouldn't let me use open it." I gulped and continued. "Then, when I returned after the break, I got this itching to just try to open it. . . and it worked. I could open and read it just like any other book." I paused and grimaced. "There is some horrible magic in there, and among them. . . horcruxes."

Dumbledore's eyes were narrowed.

"What concerns me the most is why I was able to open the book now." I paused and looked out the window, pretending to be lost. "Do you think only an evil person could open the book, sir? And because I– because I used the cruciatus curse, I am now worthy to open it."

Dumbledore looked at me sadly. "You're not evil Harry," he said. "You're human."

I shook my head. "Those two aren't mutually exclusive."

The headmaster nodded. "You're right, but remember what I told you the night Sirius died, Harry. You are many things, but evil isn't one of them."

I closed my eyes and tried to look upset.

"Do you know how many horcruxes he made?" Dumbledore wondered. I could hear the thinly veiled hope in his voice.

"No," I said solemnly. "I recognised that the diary was one, but I realised that he must have made at least one more, otherwise he'd be dead."

Dumbledore nodded. "You're right. Luckily enough, I've found another one." He opened his drawer and put a small ring on the table. "I found this in his magical family's home."

I looked at the ring, a frown on my face. Internally, I felt like cheering.

"We need Slughorn's memory to know how many horcruxes he made," Dumbledore said. "I'm certain we can find that out."

I nodded in understanding. I already knew that Voldemort had made five, but Dumbledore didn't know that, and if we could find that information another way, that would draw less suspicion towards me.

"I think that's all for today," Dumbledore said, standing up from his chair. "You've given me a lot to think about. And hopefully, you can give me some answers too, when you get that memory."

"Good night, sir."

-()-

-Draco-

Most couches were empty in the common room. I knew why. I could have been with them.

But I already knew that the one person I wanted to talk to wouldn't be there.

I sighed and stared into the ceiling, my eyes dimly roaming over the bottom of the lake.

My mind almost didn't register the fact that I stood up and walked out of the common room. My feet led me around and around the castle, down stairs, up stairs and through corridors. More times than once, I thought that a teacher would run into me, and give me detention for being out late. Somehow, that never happened, it was as if I was the only person in the whole castle that night.

I didn't know where I was when I heard footsteps in front of me, then they stopped and I could hear voices. Both voices were vaguely familiar to me, but as I snuck a glance against the corner I recognised both immediately.

Potter was talking about something with Tracey.

My mind started racing again.

How did they know each other?

There was only one answer; the two of them shared one link: Daphne.

Soon after, the two of them went in different directions, and I could continue my nighttime walk, undisturbed.

It felt like I was being watched when I walked along the corridors, like every single torch along the walls were glaring eyes, mocking me and remembering every step I took.

I tried to swat away the paranoia, but like a fly, it would only disappear briefly, before it landed again, somewhere else.

It felt like I was a day away from being found out. It felt like I would be sent to Azkaban tomorrow, by crime being–

I toppled to the ground, something –or someone– had run into me at full speed. I groaned and pushed the person off. Two taller figures appeared standing above me, both of them wearing the Slyhterin green; I recognised both of them from the Inquisitorial Squad last year.

I stood up slowly, observing who had run into me. It was a Ravenclaw, a couple of years younger than me.

My two housemates seemed uncertain what to say.

"Well done Malfoy," one of them said, his shoulder slumped like he was speaking to a teacher. "You caught him."

"He caught me, more like," I said and glanced at the Ravenclaw. I saw that he had been bound to the ground by fetters, presumably conjured by the two Slytherins. "What on earth are you doing out here?"

"We're prefects," one of them said, and pointed to a silver badge on his robe. "We were patrolling when we saw this guy with another person. The other escaped, but this one. . ."

I looked a little closer at the Ravenclaw. His cheeks were red, perhaps from running; or something else. . . His hair was messy two, perhaps from his frantic escape; or something else. . .

"Were you there?" I asked.

The Ravenclaw blinked. "What?"

I rolled my eyes. "Were you there?" I said, this time a little more forcefully.

The Ravenclaw opened his mouth, and then closed it. "Yes," he said. "I was a the pa–"

"Isn't it supposed to be a secret?" I cut him off, before he could spill too much in front of these two prefects, who I was certain didn't know about it.

The Ravenclaw blushed a little. "Oh yeah, sorry."

"We're going to take him to Snape," the right prefect said, his brows furrowed. "But this is Marcus Magnefield. . ."

"Is that supposed to tell me something?"

"His brother was in the D.A last year. . ."

I suddenly realised what this was all about.

"It would finally bring us some justice, don't you think?" the left prefect said, a small smile on his face, directed towards the Ravenclaw.

"Thanks for the help Draco," the right one said. "We know what to do from here."

They brushed past me and each grabbed an arm of Magnefield.

"What will you do?" I said, my eyes slightly narrowed.

"You know. . . an eye for an eye, or more like, a broken hand for a broken hand."

The boys started to drag the struggling Ravenclaw away, but he was younger and smaller, he stood no chance without his wand.

"No."

The two boys froze. The Ravenclaw still squirmed between them.

"Are you fools?" I said, taking threatening steps towards him. "Don't you remember a single word Potter told us in Umbridge's office?"

They stared at me like I was an alien with seventeen arms.

"This needs to stop," I snapped. "You won't harm him, nor anyone else."

For a brief second, I thought they would protest. Then they released their grip, and the Ravenclaw was gone, his steps echoing against the floor.

The pair of prefects watched me for a moment, their eyes flashing with uncertainty as to what they were supposed to do.

"You fools," I said, my voice low and vicious. "We tried to fight them head on last year, and failed. . . " I smiled at them, mocking and condescending. "And the two of you thought that we should just try the same thing again? Ha! No, we need to change, we need to evolve," I stressed. "We need to play the long game, wait for our opportunity for revenge."

The pair nodded, my words breaking through their skulls.

"I've got a plan," I said, a confident smile on my lips. "I need you –and everyone in Slytherin– to wait and trust this plan." I looked both of them in the eye, implanting the seriousness of the situation. "For his sake, we need to lie low and wait."

I could see the moment the fear I had snuck into them revealed their presence. All of a sudden, their shoulders were rigid, their eyes were darting around.

"For his sake," I stressed again. "He is behind me, I can't afford anyone to ruin our plan, okay?"

They nodded, their movements stressed and mechanical. "Yes, sir," they whispered.

"Good," I said. "Now, get back to your common rooms, I don't want to see anyone get this close to ruining everything again. . ."

Like the Ravenclaw had done minutes prior, the pair of them hurried away from there.

I remained in the corridor for a while. I felt watched, but there was no one around. I could change things, I realised there.

My association with Voldemort could work both ways, if I allowed it to.

-()-

-Harry-

It was late at night when I finally made my way back to my master's room on the fourth floor. I snuck around every corner, ready for almost anything, but I doubted that I would meet anyone.

As I walked around a corner, my assumption was proven incorrect. At first I didn't even realise who it was, the girl who was walking towards me was wearing a dress, had styled her hair and was wearing makeup, almost as if she was going to some kind of gala.

"Hello, Davis," I said when we reached each other, and I recognized her. I looked her up and down; she looked really good, I realised. "You're dressed very casually for a normal Wednesday night," I said, sarcastic.

She didn't look impressed. "Some people don't just hide away from the world with books, you know. Some people actually spend time around other people. It must sound foreign to you, but it exists."

It seemed to me most Slytherins had their aggression in common.

Instead of lashing out back, I raised my eyebrows. "Oh really? That's ironic, coming from you, a friend of Daphne."

Tracey looked like she wanted to strangle me.

An idea struck me, was that why she was walking here in the middle of the night?

"If I go into that room of hers, will I find her dressed up like you?" I wondered aloud, gesturing to Davis' attire.

She seemed to find the idea funny. "Nope," she said clearly, running a hand through her hair with a jawn.

"Well, that's a shame," I said. "Anyways, have a good night or whatever. . ."

"Thank you, I hope you have an awful evening," she said, smiling at me confidently.

"Great, thank you too," I said, quite exasperated by Slytherins in general. With that said, I walked off, leaving Davis to whatever she was doing.

I walked inside the silver door which, as always, swung open soundlessly as I approached. The torches flickered with their purple light, a light which I had grown to associate with home.

My master was sitting in one of her armchairs, staring into the fire absently, seemingly lost in thought.

I sat down in front of her, waiting for her to acknowledge me. Yet she didn't, my master only stared inside the fire as if it was a movie, filled with things happening. I opened my mouth to speak, but she chose that moment to do the same.

"Harry," she said. "Are you happy?"

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. I gathered my thoughts. "Well, I've been trapped inside a marriage, hah my best friend murdered, my godfather killed and a maniacal murderer after my skin. . ."

Rowena raised her gaze to look at me. "Is that supposed to be synonymous with no or yes?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, I'm pretty good, I suppose, all things considered. Thinking rationally about everything, I should be suicidal, but I'm not, depsite everything which has happened, so that has to count for something."

Rowena exhaled slowly. "If you kill yourself, I'll bring you back to life, solely to torture you for wasting my time."

I smiled thinly. "Is that your way of saying that you like having me around?" I wondered.

She rolled her eyes. "No. That's my way of saying that you better make something of your life, after everything you've invested in it."

"I'll try," I said.

"Don't try," she responded. "Just do it."

"If it only were that easy," I said, a little annoyed. My master had gone back to staring inside the flames. "What about you, master? Are you happy?"

She folded her hands neatly in her lap. "I'll have to say the same thing as you did, all things considered, I'm pretty good."

"That's good, I wouldn't blame you if you weren't, you know. I can't imagine what it's like, sitting in here all day, for years."

She smiled bitterly, the purple flames reflecting in her eyes. "I'm used to it," she said. "I use the time to learn, not have fun."

I arched my brow. "Isn't that what you told me I shouldn't do last year?"

She smiled at me, as if I was saying something funny. "No offence Harry, but when I put my time to learn new things, those things are pretty spectacular. When you put your time into learning new things, they are rather basic, they don't change anything for anyone other than yourself. When you've learned how to create a mountain, or how to apparate to the moon, then we can say that it's worth it. But to put it simply, my misery means gain for wizardkind, whereas your misery gains wizardkind comparatively little."

I didn't know if I should feel offended or not. "Huh, I guess you're right."

She scoffed. "Of course I am. I'm Rowena Ravenclaw."

I roller my eyes. "Humble as always, I see." Then I caught onto something. "Wait, you said that you know how to apparate to the moon?"

A/ N: Thanks for reading! The chapter next week might be the most unique one in this whole fic, I'm looking forward to sharing it with you. I'd be grateful for a comment with your thoughts on this chapter! Cheers!