Chapter Two - The Blank Parchment

Draco

"Wizards and Witches, welcome to round five of the craziest duel in history!" Draco monologued to himself internally as he set his trunk down in the bedroom belonging to the fourth years. In his mind, he had the bravado of a Quidditch announcer and the tone of a reanimated corpse. "Get ready for another exciting…" dang, he'd already used the word 'round'. Ah, well,

"Welcome to Year Five! Get ready for another round of painful teenaged experiences, featuring intense self-loathing, being second-best in your year-"

He pulled a toothbrush out of his bag and made it to the bathroom, choosing to dramatically finish his thoughts in front of the mirror.

"-and constantly wondering if you've earned your right to stay here. I'll be your host, Draco Malfoy, as we figure out what hellish experiences the fates can dream up this year."

It was dramatic, which was fine, because it was an inner monologue. And the previous year had already been cruddy. Draco's father's dark mark had begun returning. His entire family fortune was sworn to the Dark Lord. Potter had become a fourth Triwizard champion, hadn't died, and now Voldemort was back and living in his basement.

Draco's father had, of course, been among those who'd seen his return. Then, later that night, his father had given him the news. Before You-Know-Who had died, Lucius Malfoy had pledged the Malfoy family fortune to him in the event of his death. Now that Voldemort had returned, Draco would no longer have an inheritance.

So, if all kept going the way it was going, his life would be in danger, he'd be penniless, his father might be killed for denying the Dark Lord, and he and his mother would be forced to join ranks or run for their lives.

"So stay tuned, ladies and gentlemen, for next exciting instalment in this horrible show. If you enjoy watching fifteen-year-old boys suffer with unbeatable problems, this is the daytime show for you. Written critiques posted in the Daily Prophet on Mondays."

Crabbe tapped Draco on the shoulder so hard that Draco's other shoulder moved up. "Can you move?" he asked. "I need the toilet."

Draco obliged and returned to his room to flop down on his bed. He had another problem. He was second in his year, again. Behind that Granger girl. And after three years of not being the top student, his father had told him to pull ahead or risk losing his broom for next year.

Granger was beyond smart though. He still didn't know how she hadn't made the cut for Ravenclaw. She was one of only four he'd not gotten right the first year, along with Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, and Anthony Goldstein. Draco had been sure they'd all land in Hufflepuff. Not one had.

Studying hadn't helped the last two years. Granger had a thirst for knowledge that exceeded his thirst to get on his parent's good side. And it had become increasingly clear that she had read years above their level. Any hope of catching up was fleeting. And sabatoging her wouldn't work either – Potter and Weasley had proved multiple times that that was futile. Not even Granger landing herself in the hospital wing for weeks in second year had stopped her. What to do, what to do?

"Oi Malfoy," Nott said, appearing in the door. "Ravenclaw is arranging a Quidditch match on Saturday. Not a real match. Bet you could show 'em what's what."

"Who else is invited?"

"All the houses. Potter and Weasley said they'd be giving it a go."

Draco scoffed. "I'll fly against those arrogant elephant flies any day." Potter's position as seeker was also a sore spot. Draco was good. He knew he was. But he was definitely the second-best seeker in the school.

"Well, you know what they say," Nott said. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Quidditch may be a month off, but we can always-"

"Join them?" Malfoy sat straight up on his bed, an idea forming. "Right, yes, thank you Nott. Can you leave now?"

Nott frowned, but retreated. He headed back down to the common room. Draco laid back down. His idea was gutsy. It would take some serious pain. It would be horrendous to even attempt. In fact, it might ruin him entirely.

But really, what did he have to lose?

"Ahem."

His stomach turned and he felt faint, but he still waited. After several seconds of nothing happening, he tried again. "Ahem."

In front of him, two people turned, equally exasperated. "What do you want, Malfoy?" said Ron Weasley, facing him from the other side of the table. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were turned around on the benches now, whereas before they'd been very pointedly ignoring him.

"You still think you're the brightest witch in our year, yeah?" Draco directed his question at Granger, who was not looking any better than in previous years. Her mane of hair bounced every way around her head. Her teeth stuck out like a beaver's.

"Witch or wizard," Granger said. "Yes."

Draco scuffed his shoe on the floor. He could still back out now with his pride intact. He'd debated sending a note or bullying another student into passing on the message. But everyone knew how Granger had been able to figure out that Slytherin's monster was a basilisk, and that Professor Lupin was a werewolf, and that Sirius Black had sent Potter a broomstick. The chances she could look at his handwriting and deduce it from class were high. The chances he could charm a paper well enough to hide his handwriting were low. And if he sent her a type-written message, she'd never go for it. Suspicions would rise too high. She'd assume he was a death eater (not too far off the truth) and would turn the note in and ignore it.

As for bullying a younger student… sure, he could try. But the moment he showed up to benefit from his idea, all eyes would be on him. And Granger would see through that in seconds.

His best option was, unfortunately, to go to the source.

"What's it to you, Malfoy?" Weasley asked. Potter still hadn't said anything, but he was usually the last of the group to speak. When he did finally speak, it usually wasn't anything easy to respond to. Best not to let Potter get the chance to speak.

Draco met eyes with Granger. "Ever thought of starting a study group?" he asked, and immediately hated himself for it. His inner monologue found a new muse, however.

"Ooh! Boo! And the crowd is not happy. Young Draco Malfoy has thrown his life away, all at the age of fifteen-"

"What?" Granger asked.

Draco exhaled. There was an open spot on either side of Granger and Potter but he didn't want to take either. He'd lowered himself enough by coming over here – he wasn't going to draw further attention by sitting at the Gryffindor table. "A study group, Granger. Because I've been thinking…" He almost bit off his tongue and had to swallow before continuing. He averted his eyes from Granger and glared the book she had open on her lap. "This is your fault," he told it. "Shame on you."

"Spit it out, Malfoy," Potter said. Not unkindly, but firm.

Draco continued addressing Granger's book. It was easier than addressing her teeth or hair. "Look, Granger, you're smart. Everyone knows it." Weasley dropped his fork. "But you're a bloody horrible teacher. You've got the curse of knowledge. You don't realise what everyone else doesn't know, and you can't explain anything without bringing up too much information." Weasley stood up, as if looking for a fight, but Potter and Granger, without taking their gazes off Draco, gestured for him to sit back down. Potter was nodding along, as if to say, "he's got a point."

Draco took a deep breath. "So, I'm suggesting a study alliance. A group of students. You teach, and I'll bridge the gaps."

There was not an immediate reaction. Only silence.

"I…" Granger trailed off.

Potter opened his mouth and started to say, "What do you get-"

Seamus Finnigan leaned over. "Not to eavesdrop, but I am," he said. "If you are starting a study group, can I put my name down?"

"Me too," said Neville Longbottom, though he purposely looked away from Draco. "Can you help me too?"

Granger looked startled. A little like she'd swallowed a lime. She examined Draco. "Tuesdays at seven, in the library?"

"Yes," he replied, though he was swallowing bile. Bring whoever, I don't care, any house. And I'm not half-stupid, I can teach just as well as you." Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

At first, it was a collection of Gryffindors. Then two Ravenclaws heard and wanted in. Then a Hufflepuff. Then two. Then three! Draco didn't even know three Hufflepuffs! But finally the numbers settled on around twelve students. Four from Gryffindor, three from Hufflepuff, four from Ravenclaw, and one Slytherin. Him.

When he walked into the library, everyone's eyes followed him. But he set his books down on the long table Granger had obtained and opened up his pad and paper. He sat near enough that he could be mistaken for someone who was also going to teach, however, he was here for the same reason everyone else was. To have Hermione Granger, brightest witch of the age, teach them her study skills.

She kept giving him odd looks, which was to be expected. Her notes indicated some of the things the fifth-years were due to learn that year. Charms today, Potions if there was time. Charms would be helpful to him. Potions… well, that was something. Because Snape gave the Slytherins his best recipes. Draco couldn't expose them.

Potter and Weasley sat next to Granger like bodyguards, though Draco was willing to put ten galleons down that Weasley would tune out within the first five minutes. "So," Granger began. "Are we waiting on anyone else?"

"Let's get started," Draco recommended. "Set a precedent – if we always start late then people will assume they can show up late."

Granger nodded, though her lips were pressed into a more thin line. "I figured… well, this is a study session. Does anyone have anything they need to study?"

"Transfiguration," Finnegan said immediately, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief inwardly. It was something he needed help with as well.

"We're going to be doing switching spells again this year," Granger said. "The theory is quite simple. By definition, it's a simultaneous transfiguration of two object to make them look like each other. It usually works best with things that already resemble each other."

Draco noticed a few of the other students rubbing their heads. They were only three sentences in. If everyone else dropped off to sleep, he'd never get the catch-up he needed. "So, we need two things that resemble each other," he said. "Any ideas?"

"I'm sure Hagrid has a pile of dung we can switch you with, Malfoy," Weasley said. Before Malfoy could retort, a Ravenclaw interrupted.

"Here's a button and a knut," he said, putting them on the table. "Now what?"

"We can't use a knut," Granger said. "Gringotts gold is heavily enchanted – it can't be tampered with."

"This is copper," said the Ravenclaw.

"Same principle," said Granger, rather flippantly. Her face was becoming a bit red. Not only was everyone having a hard time keeping pace with Granger, but Granger was also having a hard time keeping pace with everyone else.

Draco reached into his school bag. "Potions ingredients run a risk of blowing up…" he muttered. "What about this?" He set a fresh bottle of ink on the table. Then, digging into his pockets, he found some cufflinks he'd forgotten to put on. "Or these?"

The Ravenclaw took the cufflinks and the button and set them beside each other. Granger cooled. "The incantation is reponere," she said. "And the wand motion is done with the wand tip down, usually, and you create an outline of the switched object as best you can."

"Meaning you draw in the air the object you want to appear while pointing at the other," Draco translated. His wand was tucked up his sleeve in a handy wand holster. He summoned it into his hand.

"Should be easy with a button," one of the Hufflepuffs muttered.

Draco shrugged. "Maybe. Want to try it out?"

The Hufflepuff withdrew their wand and made a circle, muttering "Reponere!" under their breath. Nothing happened. Granger opened her mouth, presumably to say why they were doing it wrong, but Potter held up a finger in front of her.

"Let's figure out why it didn't work together," he said. "Are you holding your wand the right way?"

Granger closed her mouth as the Hufflepuff checked their grip. Unsurprisingly, it was off. There was a second attempt. "Hermione," said Potter, "Can you tell us the encantation again?"

Granger did, and this time, the spell worked. Potter sat back in his chair, quiet again as everyone took turns switching the button and the cufflinks. Meanwhile, that idiot Longbottom pulled his squirming toad out of his pocket. How that thing was alive after all these years, Draco would never know. He placed it beside the ink bottle. "Do you think we could switch Trevor and-"

Draco saw the disaster before it unfolded. "No!" he snapped, and reached to snatch the ink away. The moment Trevor the Toad's foot got near the table, he slapped it down and launched out of Neville's hands. He landed – splat – on the bottle and knocked it askew, onto the table, and some parchment, and all over his clothes.

Then the squirmy little creature took off, leaving his mess behind. "Scourgify," Granger said, cleaning the mess off the table. "Scourgify." The ink left Draco's clothes.

Draco glared at Neville, then stood up. Weasley and Potter both braced themselves to defend him. For a moment, Draco though about punching all three of them in the face. But then he wouldn't be invited back. "Get ready," he said instead, and pointed his wand at the ink bottle. "Reponere."

With a ribbit, Trevor materialised, and Neville seized him so hard that his eyes bugged out. He quickly stowed Trevor away in his pocket, not looking at Malfoy at all.

The parchment that had been splattered with ink still had spots on it. Draco scowled as he gathered it up, then paused. What he had seen as splotches were actually words. "Granger," He said slowly. "Did you scourgify this?"

"Yes," she replied tersely. "Why?"

Draco set the parchment down. "Did someone take notes on my parchment?"

Written in random places were the words "wonderful", "solid", "powerful", "old", and "haunt". Other letters were nearby, as if the author had been distracted multiple times.

No one fessed up, so Draco leaned back and crossed his arms. "Go find where my ink bottle went, Longbottom," he demanded. Longbottom jumped up and went to search.

Potter looked particularly wary. "Where'd you get that parchment, Malfoy?"

"Same place everyone gets parchment," Malfoy snarled. He wondered if someone had charmed the parchment to appear clean, and if Granger's spell had been so powerful it had disrupted the parchment's spell. He hadn't paid for pre-used parchment…

Granger pulled another ink bottle out of her school bag and poured it on the parchment. "Oi!" Draco snapped, but Potter leaned forward. Nothing happened. Then Granger tapped the parchment and the ink began to vanish. A wandless charm. Since when could Granger do wandless magic?

The ink disappeared until only a few paragraphs were left behind. "Wonderful before something solid, and very powerful and old, they'll come back to haunt you."

"You sure this isn't cursed?" Weasley asked.

"Nope," Granger said. "We'll look at it later."

"It's my parchment," Draco said, standing up again.

"And it's acting like a cursed object. So you either deal with us getting involved, or we tell Professor McGonagall you've got it," Granger replied.

"It's not cursed!"

"And you'd know, right, Malfoy?" Potter said.

"Switching spells," Hermione said, pulling the meeting back on course. She shoved the parchment into her bag, which Draco wasn't pleased about. It was his property!

They finished their review, which each person testing switching spells, figuring out why they weren't working, and testing them again. Longbottom struggled in particular, though Granger seemed more patient with him than anyone else in the group. Weasley did not participate. He tuned out entirely and began wandering around. Draco kept a close eye on Granger to make sure she didn't send that odd piece of parchment away with Ron when he finally punched out and headed back to Gryffindor Tower. Potter looked amused as his friend walked away. "I think that was the longest he's ever been here," he told Granger.

Draco responded without much thought. "It's a miracle he's managed to make it this far in his education," he said.

"That miracle's name is Hermione," Granger said. "Now, let's move on."

They went over potions for most of the rest of the time. Draco was aware that the other house struggled with potions. He had never cared. Now, however, he was biting his tongue. "Of course you can't add porcupine quills!" He exploded at a Ravenclaw. "That has bubotuber pus in it! Longbottom, tell the group about Bubotuber pus!"

The table went silent, staring at Draco. Longbottom looked shaken. Draco tapped his foot once, twice, then growled. "Don't look at me like I'm an idiot. We all know you've got big, clumsy green thumbs."

Longbottom swallowed. "It's pus squeezed from the bubotuber plant…" he began hesitantly. "When it's raw, it makes boils on your hand, and…" Suddenly, his eyes lit up. "That's why you can't add porcupine quills! Porcupine quills make things more acidic!"

"Exactly!" Draco stared at the ceiling to collect his composure. "Porcupine Quills are often used to boost potions. If added to something already acidic…"

"You get one of my ruined cauldrons!" Longbottom interrupted with a shout of joy. It was a strange subject to hear such a tone in. Draco scowled at being interrupted.

Madam Pince turned a corner. "That's enough!" She said. "It's almost time for bed. Off you trot!"

Draco turned his gaze on Granger. "Yes, Madam Pince," she said. "We'll be right out."

Everyone began packing up their things, except for Granger and Potter, who both made themselves look busy as the group trooped out one by one.

"Not bad, Granger," Draco drawled. "Now kindly return my parchment."

Granger sat up straighter. "No," she replied. "If you want to look at it, we'll look at it here, together."

Draco growled. "Granger, I won't tell you again. Give me my-"

"Shove off, Malfoy," Potter said. "It's not happening."

Granger removed the parchment from her bag and stuck it to the table with a sticking charm. Draco growled again. She and Potter leaned over the words. "Old… solid…" Draco was forced to lean over as well. Granger curled her lip but did not direct him to shove off. He was able to skim the lines in their entirety.

It wasn't a lot. Draco wondered if they should spill more ink on it. But something about the words rang a dull, distant bell in the back of his head. He leaned back and crossed his arms. "Is that in Hogwarts, A History?" He wondered to himself.

Potter looked over, and then looked at Granger, nudging her in the arm as he did. Granger rolled her eyes. "No," she replied haughtily. "No, it's not."

Draco closed his eyes as Potter began to mutter: "Something solid and old and powerful-"

"No," Granger interrupted. "Before something solid and very powerful and old."

"Does it matter? It's the same words, just-"

"Of course it matters!" Granger declared. "Just look here-"

Draco slapped a hand over the paper. "Granger," he said, "Tell me what the line says."

Granger was seething now. Draco didn't think he'd ever been in a space this close to her before and the temperature was rising scarily fast. "Malfoy," she snarled, "Move your hand."

"I'm serious!"

"So am I-"

Potter put his wand under Draco's nose. The wood tickled the remains of his whiskers he'd shaved off that morning. "Get your hand away, Malfoy, or I'll take your nose off."

Draco looked at Potter, green eyes hard, and then let his gaze flit back to Granger. "Do it from memory," he said. "Prove you can."

"I'm not a showpony."

"Debatable," Draco said. "But I think you've said this before."

Potter's wand pressed into his lip. Granger furrowed her brow. "I haven't," she insisted.

"Do it," Draco said.

With pressed lips, Hermione glanced at the paper. "Something solid and very powerful and old," she said, then paused. "I don't remember the rest."

"They'll come back to haunt you once more," Potter whispered.

Draco stared. "That wasn't on the paper."

"Oh bloody hell, Malfoy," Granger finally snapped. Out of nowhere, she brought out a hardcover book and, with one hand, slammed the tome down on his fingers. With a yelp, Draco withdrew his hand. The entire appendage smarted as Granger put her fingers down on the paper. "Yes it is," she snapped. "It says right here…" she paused, staring thoughtfully at the page. "Actually, you did add words, Harry. It ends at 'haunt you'."

Draco was seeing red. He took his wand and stuck it in Granger's face. The spell he uttered went off with a bang. Granger shrieked. Before Draco could dwell on any success, Potter's stinging hex caught him in the armpit and rocketed him back into a bookcase.

Granger was covering her face, where a series of close-set purple pustules had spread across her face in a horrible word: Mudblood.

As Draco lay dazed against a bookshelf, surrounded by hardbacks, it occurred to him that his mission had failed. Granger was never going to let him co-teach a study session with her again, and the operation had largely been a bust anyways. She was also probably going to keep his piece of parchment, meaning he'd need to buy extra. And that spell he'd put on her would need to be removed by Madam Pomfrey. Meaning unless Snape was around, he was about to lose a lot of house points.

Then Potter got a better look at Granger and raised his wand again at Draco and it occurred to Draco that he might also need to visit Pomfrey if he didn't move it – now.

Madam Pince came around the corner. "No fighting in the library!" She announced. "No fighting in the-"

"Stupefy!" Potter roared.

"Expelliarmus!" Draco returned. Neither spell hit its mark – Potter had been shielding Granger, so it didn't even hit her. Then, suddenly, ropes appeared around both of them. Draco found his wand arm bound to his side. At first, he thought that Madam Pince had done it. Then, another witch – the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher – came into view beside Madam Pince.

"He-hem," said the short, rather stout woman. She wore matching pink, from head to toe, and a rather ugly smile. "I believe Madam Pince said there was to be no fighting in the library." She lowered her wand and examined them both.

Draco recognised her. She was the Minister for Magic's secretary. And she was no easier on the eyes than she had been when Draco was seven. Her wrinkles reminded him of a reptiles. But she was, for now, a saving grace.

"Malfoy cursed Hermione!" Potter spat. "Look at those boils!"

"We'll take her down to the hospital wing at once," Madam Pince said. "It's a good thing that Professor Umbridge was here, otherwise we may be taking all three of you with more serious wounds!"

Professor Umbridge dropped her bindings. Both Draco and Potter still had their wands, but neither made to use them. Instead, each just glowered at the other. Umbridge waved her wand threateningly. Draco had to admit, he was surprised she had been able to get them. He hadn't thought her competent enough.

"Potter and Granger stole my parchment," Draco said. "I want it back."

"It's acting cursed," Potter said. "It's got words that appeared on it. See?" He gestured to the paper behind them, then stopped. He nudged Granger. "Hermione," he said. "It's gone."

"I can't see, Harry," Granger replied. Draco's blast must have gotten her eyes. No wonder she hadn't joined the fight.

"Hermione, the words on the parchment are gone."

Draco made to take a step forward, but Potter raised his wand to pin him in place. Umbridge raised hers as well. "Now, Mr. Potter," she said in a sweet manner. "I trust you're not about to continue firing upon a fellow student." She glanced toward where the parchment lay. "Bring that parchment to me," she said. "If it's cursed, I will be able to take care of it."

"I bought it with the rest of my school stuff," Draco protested. "It's mine, for classes."

"I'll return it to you once it's been examined," Umbridge said. "Now, I think it's time for bed. Mr. Malfoy, please gather your things. We'll send you on your way and then we'll take care of these two Gryffindors."

Biting his tongue, Draco returned to the table and gathered his things up. He spared a glance at the parchment. No words were on it. But they had been there. He had seen them. They had said something…

He couldn't remember.

He stomped out of the library, making as much noise as he could on the way.

Through the grapevine, Draco heard that Pomfrey had fixed most of Granger's face. She had some light scarring, but with a little cream, it would fade in a week. Still, Weasley, Granger, Potter, and the rest of Gryffindor house was glaring daggers into him. If looks could kill, he'd have suffered a very interesting fate indeed. Alas, they could only hope.

Nothing happened the day after the accident. Not even any house point changes. Then, after potions, Professor Snape appeared next to his cauldron. He examined Draco's bottling, then inspected the cauldron. "Sufficient," he declared, and finally turned his gaze on Draco. "Finish packing up, then stay behind."

Draco's hands stilled on his stirring paddle, then continued as if he hadn't heard the professor. It had been a single potions day, so only the Slytherins, but Draco suspected this was about the battle in the library. He took his time stowing his ingredients as his fellow housemates trickled out the door. Then, Snape appeared behind him, robes swishing at his sides.

"Follow me, Mr. Malfoy. The Headmaster has asked to see you regarding a cursed parchment."

Draco had never been to see the Headmaster before.

"Was it really cursed?" Draco asked, shouldering his schoolbag.

Professor Snape's eyes seemed to singe his skin as he examined Draco. "I have not been told," he replied, and turned to lead the way out of the dungeons.

Unfortunate. Of all the cursed pieces of parchment in the world, he had to accidentally pick one up with his normal supplies. And Potter and Granger were on the Headmaster's good side. Draco wouldn't be surprised if they'd already put words in against him.

"Witches and Wizards, behold the disgrace of the Malfoy family name," the announcer in his head declared. "Wasted talent, wasted blood, wasted-"

"Lemon drop," Professor Snape told a gargoyle that Malfoy had passed a dozen times in his time here. It sprang aside, revealing a staircase up. Malfoy's skin began to itch, as if proximity to the Headmaster was giving him lice. Professor Snape then turned to him. "I will see you in the common room later today," he said. Which was as close to comfort as Draco reasoned was within the man. It meant he suspected Draco would not be expelled. He headed up the staircase, leaving Snape behind.

At the top of the staircase was a solid door. Draco wretched it open without a knock and came face-to-face with his handiwork.

Granger and Potter were also there. Neither looked pleased to see him. 'Mudblood' was still covering Granger's face, running from her left forehead to right cheek and over her eyes and eyelids, in raised bumps.

The office itself was… amazing. Whirring instruments and beautiful artifacts. Draco spied a large moonstone on a shelf, emanating light. Floating lights cheered up the corners and thick books and comforters gave the office a homey feeling. A large cage was set up beside Dumbledore's desk, where a young phoenix was picking the feathers underneath its right wing.

"Mr. Malfoy," Professor Dumbledore said, so softly that Draco almost didn't hear him. "In the future, please knock so that you don't startle those who may already be in my office." He waved Malfoy forward. On his desk, beside an apple and a copy of the children's book "Tales of Beedle the Bard", was the blank parchment.

Potter glared at him as Draco came to stand on the right side of Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore examined each of them with a soft smile, as if seeing something amusing underneath each of their skins. Then, with a hand on the parchment, he slid it towards Draco. "It is natural to become defensive when something that belongs to us is taken," he said. "I trust you understand the importance of making sure that cursed objects don't make it onto Hogwarts grounds?"

Draco balled his fists up. "I didn't curse it, sir," he said. "Nor did I purchase it cursed on purpose."

"It's not cursed at all, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore replied. "You may have it back now. Thank you for your understanding of our caution."

With a slight shake, Draco reached forward and took the parchment back. It had not been about the parchment, Dumbledore was right. It had been about the fact it had been taken. Still Dumbledore did not look done. "I know it is frustrating to have things taken from you," he said. "Please forgive Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger. They have had experiences with cursed objects before and are attempting to prevent horrible accidents from happening again."

"Like the Chamber of Secrets?" Draco asked. He wasn't an idiot. He knew Potter and Granger had been thinking about that stupid diary his father had slipped Ginny Weasley.

"That is a good example," Dumbledore said. "And I've spoken with Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger about their experiences and actions as well. Though I will not require you to apologise to them nor them to you – I often find that exercises of that manner only invite animosity and resentment."

Draco hummed in agreement, then took a half-step back. Dumbledore held up a hand. "Not so fast, Mr. Malfoy. Now that I have returned your property, I have two requests of you."

Draco returned to his post. He stared past the headmaster's head, at a spinning globe of wire behind him.

"Mr. Malfoy, I would like for you to recite for me, as near as you can, what you saw written on the parchment."

"I-I can't remember it all, Headmaster."

"I don't expect you to be able to," Dumbledore replied. "However, you were very smart to question Ms. Granger in this way. I would like for you to tell me what you remember."

Draco chewed his cheek. "It said, "I've never seen anything this wonderful before"."

Granger scoffed; it was the first sound she'd made. "It most certainly did not, Headmaster. You must-"

Dumbledore held up his hand. Granger fell silent. "And, Mr. Malfoy," he said, "Do you recall any line about 'solid and very powerful'?"

A dull bell rang in the back of his head. "Isn't that from Hogwarts, A History?" he asked.

Both Dumbledore and Granger shook their heads. Granger crossed her arms. Dumbledore simply waited. Draco shrugged. "That's all I remember."

Dumbledore nodded. "Well, having not seen the message myself, there's no way for me to know what was on there," he decided in a light tone. "I do find it interesting, though-" he fixed each one of them with a piercing gaze. Draco stood up taller. "-that each of you remembers something completely different being written down."

Granger looked at the floor, fuming. Apparently, she found it more frustrating than interesting. Potter shook his head. "I find it more interesting that the message is gone once a teacher is nearby," he said. He glared at Draco, as if he'd somehow caused it.

"That is through no fault of Mr. Malfoy's, or either of you," Professor Dumbledore explained. "In fact, I wonder if it has nothing to do with the parchment and everything to do with the people involved."

There was a long pause. Draco's skin crawled. Wasn't it time to leave yet? This conversation felt over. Then Potter turned to him. "Didn't you say you thought Hermione had said something before?"

The other two turned to stare at him. Draco's mouth felt dry. But he frowned and said, "I thought she was reciting that book."

Another shake of the heads from both. Dumbledore was on the verge of dismissing them – Draco could feel it – and with another cursory glance gave a sigh and a nod to the door. Draco retreated without a backward glance and only thought once he was down the stairs that it was a miracle he was out un-expelled.

Not even a house point lost.

Late that night, he laid the parchment across the desk in the Slytherin common room. He poured his bottle of ink over it, and then prodded it with his wand. It took a few tries, but the ink slowly cleaned itself up. When it was over, there was nothing but a blank piece of parchment dried to the table.

It really was just a blank piece of parchment.

The next chapter will be called The Pink Witch