The Pure Blood's Task

Chapter 7

The next morning, Ron and I meet Hermione in the common room, and I lose no time in telling her what I told Ron last night. She's marginally more agreeable than Ron was about my Malfoy theory, which relieves me. Hermione has always been good at bringing Ron around, so if I ever have to... Not that I'll need to talk about that kind of thing, but if I did, she might be able to talk sense into him.

Anyway.

The three of us make our way down to breakfast, where Professor McGonagall is handing out our new timetables. Hermione grabs hers along with an apple and rushes straight off to her first lesson, whilst Ron and I find we have the same schedule, with a free period first thing.

"Excellent," he beams at me. "We can use it to plot revenge on Malfoy."

Lavender Brown, who passes us as he says that, finds his comment hilarious, and she laughs loudly, looking at Ron through her eyelashes as she does so. Ron seems pleased, and smiles slightly to himself for the next couple of minutes while McGonagall passes on another two messages to me. The first is a note from Dumbledore arranging our next lesson, and the second is a list of hopefuls for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Since I'm Captain this year I'll have to hold tryouts and start training sessions. Whilst Ron comes up with pranks to pull on Malfoy, I spend our free going over the names, and then we both head towards our first class of the day: Defence Against the Dark Arts.

With Snape as our new teacher, the majority of our class is much more subdued than usual, and we watch Snape as he prowls around the class, loving devotion practically dripping from his lips as he speaks of his subject. He orders us to practice non-verbal skills, but as I pair up with Ron I see Snape corner Malfoy away from the group.

Malfoy looks uncomfortable under Snape's stance, even though he usually sucks up to the professor at all times. It's odd, but whatever. I practise the spells against Ron, but he ducks my jelly-legs curse and it hurtles across the room towards their corner, hitting Snape with perfect accuracy.

He snarls at me, yelling abuse as he becomes more and more enraged wobbling around the room. Even Malfoy sniggers, though it's hastily turned into a scowl when Ron points it out.

"Detention, Potter!" Snape yells when he finally comes to a halt. "Saturday night. And don't you dare be late."

Unfortunately for him, Dumbledore's note this morning said that our next lesson would be then, and I smugly tell him so. I have the pleasure of watching his livid face turn an even starker shade of sour milk, and exchange a subtle wink with Dean and Seamus.

I suddenly feel confident, more so than normal, and when Snape snaps that my detention will be the following week I agree with an arrogance that suggests I'll have to fit him into my schedule. I have no idea where my power is coming from, but I'm pleased with my triumph in this battle, and leave the lesson with my head held high.

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Walking down to potions later this day feels much more appealing than it has for the past five years. Although my opinions about Professor Slughorn are still mixed, I know for sure that I'm going to prefer his classes to those with my new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, even though I am yet to have one.

I'm proven correct immediately as Slughorn enters the dungeon and greets us all as if he's known us for years. He is more jovial towards students with a known important relative, but he's still polite to the other students, whereas Snape would have growled at them.

Professor Slughorn starts the lesson by handing out copies of Advanced Potion Making, and points out the potions standing in large cauldron at the front of the room. Hermione is quick to identify them, of course, but whereas most of the class take note of her words, the Slytherins mock her audibly.

"Can you think of anything worse than a mudblood?" Theodore Nott winks at Malfoy. It casts my mind back to that day in Diagon Alley when Narcissa Malfoy made a similar comment, and I think it reminds Malfoy too, as his face falls and mimics the expression he wore that day, unresponsive. Good. He shouldn't be so conceited all the time. It's a bad look for him, and he's actually quite...

Shaking my head against where that thought was heading, I start making notes on the next potion Hermione is describing.

"It's Amortentia," she says, "the most powerful love potion in the world."

Slughorn nods his head and takes over. "Yes, and for that reason probably the most dangerous potion in this room." He brings a small phial of it to each of our desks and asks us to sniff it. "It smells differently to everyone, depending on what attracts us."

I lean forward, inhaling the steam spiralling from it, and feel a great contentment wash over my body. I smell treacle tart, the woody scent of a broomstick handle, and a whiff of fresh vanilla. The mix is irresistible in my nose, and my eyes wander unintentionally around the room, landing on the Slytherins who bear the same relaxed grins that I know is on my own face.

The smell is so heavenly that it takes a few moments for most of the class to get our focus back once Professor Slughorn removes the phials. He then pairs us up for the task of concocting Draught of Living Dead, with a prize of Felix Felices (liquid luck) for the winners.

To my despair, I'm teamed with Malfoy, but at he looks eager to work, as he sits up straight at the mention of the prize. At least I won't end up doing all of the work.

As I take my seat next to my partner, I smell a strong trace of the vanilla from that potion. Obviously it's still lingering in the air over here. Brain slightly fuzzy, I nonetheless open my book to page ten, seeing that Malfoy is already bent over his own, but nearly close it again after seeing the state it's in. The margins are black with almost indecipherable scribbles, and many of the instructions have been crossed out and re-written by the same messy hand. The only reason I bother trying to make out the words is because I don't want to share with Malfoy.

Just my luck - the dud book and the worst person to be paired with.

"Peppermint," Malfoy mutters curiously.

It's the scent of my body wash, and I turn to him, defiant. "Yes? Does it bother you?"

He is fast to harden his eyes, and demands that I must fetch the necessary ingredients from the store cupboard. I comply, but only to get away from the smell of Amortentia that's making me feel deliriously woozy.

Some of the ingredients have extremely strong odours themselves, so when I return to the desk I find that they mask the vanilla. I'm glad, as it means I can work without distraction.

Malfoy starts feverishly chopping up valerian roots as soon as I reach him, so I'm marginally confused by his desperation, and watch him throughout the lesson as we work in resolute silence. A sheen of sweat appears on his brow as we're stirring, and I notice too that our potion is staying a stubborn purple rather than changing to pale pink. This is where the first of my book's re-written instructions occurs, so I decide to follow the new one and see what happens.

I add the clockwise stir, holding my breath, and exclaim in delight as the liquid becomes the correct colour. Malfoy evidently decides that coming top in the class is more important than his pride, as he begins to follow my words whenever they differ from his book, and even gives me a brief, relieved grin as we win the bottle of Felix Felices to share. His attitude doesn't last though, as he snatches the bottle to keep for himself. Typical. I divide it evenly and pocket my half. At least one of us is fair.

"Harry?" Ron's voice echoes disbelief as Slughorn dismisses us. "You were with that slimey got all lesson and didn't try to hex him once! What's that about?"

I suddenly remember that Malfoy broke my nose. "Oh yeah... I just... Wanted to win." My answer doesn't feel right but it'll have to do.

Hermione is looking at me strangely too. "You should be careful," she says. "I normally wouldn't agree with bad behaviour in class but this time Ron's right - you should have done something!" I must look confused as she continues. "Didn't you see? It was Malfoy who put the confidence charm on you in Defence Against the Dark Arts this morning. He was probably trying to get you in trouble with Snape."

I hardly hear her last sentence, as my mind is reeling from the one preceding it. It was Malfoy who helped me stand up for myself this morning?

Why?