Delilah spent the last week of the holidays getting to know the Weasleys and Fleur better.
She understood why Fleur got on Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and Ginny's nerves, but once Delilah started talking to her, she actually was pretty cool — she understood why Bill liked her.
She also had to deal with Harry's new found obsession with her boyfriend.
Apparently he, Hermione, and Ron had snuck out of Fred and George's shop to follow Draco into Knockturn Alley. They had seen him go into Burgin and Burkes and heard him ask how to fix something and to "keep the other one safe." After that Hermione had gone in to try and figure out what he had reserved, but it hadn't worked.
Neither Ron nor Hermione seemed as interested as Harry, so he had started talking about it to Delilah.
"Yes, it's fishy," Delilah agreed. "But we've agreed there are plenty of explanations."
"Yeah, but his father's in Azkaban, right? Don't you think Malfoy'd like revenge?"
Delilah rolled her eyes, debating if it was worth using Fred and George's punching telescope on him, Hermione and Ron might even help her.
"He wouldn't, and even if he was, what could he do about it?"
"That's my point, I don't know!" said Harry, exasperated. "But he's up to something and I think we should take it seriously. His father's a Death Eater and —" Harry broke off, his eyes fixed on the window behind Hermione, his mouth open.
"Harry?" said Hermione in an anxious voice. "What's wrong?"
"Your scar's not hurting again, is it?" asked Ron nervously.
"He's a Death Eater," said Harry slowly. "He's replaced his father as a Death Eater!"
Draco couldn't be a Death Eater. He was sixteen, and while he did have some issues, he had grown a lot. Plus, the Trio always blamed Draco or Snape for everything. So he couldn't be a Death Eater, even if it did explain why he had forgotten her birthday and kept the few letters he had sent short. He just couldn't be.
Ron erupted in laughter, breaking the silence.
"Malfoy? He's sixteen, Harry! You think You-KnowWho would let Malfoy join?"
"It seems very unlikely, Harry," said Hermione in a repressive sort of voice. "What makes you think — ?"
"In Madam Malkin's. She didn't touch him, but he yelled and jerked his arm away from her when she went to roll up his sleeve. It was his left arm. He's been branded with the Dark Mark."
Ron and Hermione looked at each other.
"Well..." said Ron, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.
"I think he just wanted to get out of there, Harry," said Hermione.
"He showed Borgin something we couldn't see," Harry pressed on stubbornly. "Something that seriously scared Borgin. It was the Mark, I know it — he was showing Borgin who he was dealing with, you saw how seriously Borgin took him!"
Ron and Hermione exchanged another look.
"I'm not sure, Harry...."
"Yeah, I still don't reckon You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join...."
Huffing with indignation, Harry snatched up a pile of filthy Quidditch robes and left the room; Mrs. Weasley had been urging them for days not to leave their washing and packing until the last moment.
Delilah sighed.
Harry couldn't be right, Draco wouldn't agree to that, and if for some reason he had — to protect his mother or something — well.... She didn't want to think about it, because the more she did, the more Harry's accusation made sense.
Sighing, she started packing and making a pile of her washing. She didn't want to have to deal with the usual last-minute scramble.
And in fact, their departure the following morning was smoother than usual. The Ministry cars glided up to the front of the Burrow to find them waiting, trunks packed; Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, safely enclosed in his traveling basket; and Hedwig; Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon; Ginny's new purple Pygmy Puff, Arnold, in cages. Midnight, unlike the other pets, was around Delilah's shoulders, though her hair hid most of the dark blue scales
"Au revoir, 'Arry," said Fleur throatily, kissing him good-bye.
Ron hurried forward, looking hopeful, but Ginny stuck out her foot and Ron fell, sprawling in the dust at Fleur's feet. Furious, red-faced, and dirtspattered, he hurried into the car without saying good-bye.
There was no cheerful Hagrid waiting for them at King's Cross Station. Instead, two grim-faced, bearded Aurors in dark Muggle suits moved forward the moment the cars stopped and, flanking the party, marched them into the station without speaking.
"Quick, quick, through the barrier," said Mrs. Weasley, who seemed a little flustered by this austere efficiency. "Harry had better go first, with —"
She looked inquiringly at one of the Aurors, who nodded briefly, seized Harry's upper arm, and attempted to steer him toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten.
"I can walk, thanks," said Harry irritably, jerking his arm out of the Auror's grip. He pushed his trolley directly at the solid barrier, ignoring his silent companion, and disappeared.
Delilah grinned. Sometimes she was glad she wasn't famous.
Hermione and Ron went next, and Delilah followed with Ginny. Mrs. & Mr. Weasley brought up the rear with the other Auror.
Once they all were there, Harry motioned for Hermione, Ron, and Delilah to follow him to find a compartment.
"Sorry, we can't," said Delilah.
Hermione nodded, looking apologetic.
"We've got to go to the prefects' carriage first and then patrol the corridors for a bit."
"Oh yeah, I forgot," said Harry.
"You'd better get straight on the train, all of you, you've only got a few minutes to go," said Mrs. Weasley, consulting her watch.
"Well, have a lovely term, Ron...."
"Mr. Weasley, can I have a quick word?" said Harry, making up his mind on the spur of the moment.
"Of course," said Mr. Weasley, who looked slightly surprised, but followed Harry out of earshot of the others nevertheless.
Naturally Harry was telling Mr. Weasley his idea, even though he probably wouldn't be able to prove anything since the Malfoys were too smart to have their dark artifacts laying around for everyone to see.
So she ignored them and started to say goodbye to Mrs. Weasley, when she was suddenly wrapped in a hug.
For a second Delilah didn't know what to do, before she wrapped her arms awkwardly back around Mrs. Weasley, unsure why her heart was pounding so much.
"Have a good school year," she said.
"I- yeah. Thanks."
After a moment Mrs. Weasley let go and turned to the others. Delilah stood for a moment, still processing what had happened.
"Don't forget to write, I'll see you all around Christmas."
She gave the others their hugs (Ron looked particularly grumpy when it was his turn) and they started loading their trunks.
Once they all were loaded, Delilah, Ron, and Hermione said their final goodbyes and headed for the Prefects compartment.
When they got there, most of the Prefects along with the new Head Boy and Girl were already there.
As the train started to move the other Prefects arrived and she was surprised to see Miguel walk in, a prefect badge pinned to his t-shirt.
He looked around awkwardly, his eyes landing on Delilah. She waved for him to sit by her.
"Hi, long time no see. How have you been?" Delilah asked.
Before he could respond, the Head Boy and Girl — Delilah didn't know their names — stood up.
"Ok, here's the assignments."
They proceeded to tell them what they'd be doing and what the new passwords were. The Slytherin one was kelp. It was a bit odd, but no one would guess it. Not that anyone outside of Slytherin would want to. The spell that made intruders feel unwelcome was very potent.
Delilah walked down the train with Miguel, glad she wasn't with Ron and Hermione, who, as always, were bickering.
Just as he was telling her about his summer, she noticed Draco sitting in a compartment with the other Slytherins. Was he really leaving her to do all their work? That was a prick move. Had his summer with his family reverted him to his old ways that much? She'd have to figure that out later.
Miguel stopped to start patrolling his area with his partner prefect and Delilah continued walking down the train, finally stopping at her section.
As usual she comforted the first years, reassuring them that whatever house they were in that they'd find friends, and suggesting they go to the other group of first years. She also stopped all the stupid fights around the train.
The weather seemed just as moody as she was starting to feel. There were stretches of the chilling mist, then out into weak, clear sunlight. It was after one of the clear spells, when the sun was visible almost directly overhead, that Delilah finally finished her rounds, which had taken even longer than usual since someone forgot to do their job.
Just as she was about to go see if Harry would let her sit by him, a breathless third year girl came up to her.
"You're Delilah?"
"Who's asking?"
If the Head Boy and Girl wanted her to do more work, she would hex both of them into next year.
"I'm supposed to deliver this to you." She handed out a scroll of parchment tied with violet ribbon.
Perplexed, Delilah opened it. Oddly enough it was an invitation.
Miss Potter,
I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.
Sincerely, Professor H. E. F. Slughorn
Delilah wished she could skip it, but it would give her a chance to evaluate her new teacher more and get out of any more Prefect duties. Dang it, when she put it like that she would have to go socialize. Drat.
When she reached compartment C, she saw at once that she wasn't Slughorn's only invitee.
"Miss Potter, good to see you again."
Smiling, Slughorn motioned for her to sit in the only empty seat, which was nearest the door.
Delilah glanced around at her fellow guests. She recognized Blaise Zabini; there were also two seventh-year boys she did not know and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn and looking as though she was not entirely sure how she had got there, Ginny.
"Now, do you know everyone?" Slughorn asked, glancing at Harry and Neville, who apparently got there just before her.
"Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course — "
Zabini did not make any sign of recognition or greeting, nor did Harry or Neville, probably because of the stupid Gryffindor and Slytherin prejudices.
"This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you've come across each other — ? No?" McLaggen, a large, wiry-haired youth, raised a hand, and Harry and Neville nodded back at him. "— and this is Marcus Belby, I don't know whether — ?" Belby, who was thin and nervous-looking, gave a strained smile. "— and this charming young lady tells me she knows you!" Slughorn finished.
Ginny grimaced at Harry and Neville from behind Slughorn's back.
"Well now, this is most pleasant," said Slughorn cozily. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on licorice wands, and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things.... Pheasant, Belby?"
Belby started and accepted what looked like half a cold pheasant.
"I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles," Slughorn told them, now passing around a basket of rolls. "Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"
Unfortunately, Belby had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant; in his haste to answer Slughorn he swallowed too fast, turned purple, and began to choke.
"Anapneo, " said Slughorn calmly, pointing his wand at Belby, whose airway seemed to clear at once. "Not... not much of him, no," gasped Belby, his eyes streaming.
"Well, of course, I daresay he's busy," said Slughorn, looking questioningly at Belby. "I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard work!"
"I suppose..." said Belby, who seemed afraid to take another bite of pheasant until he was sure that Slughorn had finished with him. "Er ... he and my dad don't get on very well, you see, so I don't really know much about..."
His voice tailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to McLaggen instead. Ah, so that's what this was.
"Now, you, Cormac," said Slughorn, "I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"
"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was," said McLaggen. "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour — this was before he became Minister, obviously —"
"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus too?" beamed Slughorn, now offering around a small tray of pies; somehow, Belby was missed out. "Now tell me..."
It all made sense. Everyone here seemed to have been invited because they were connected to somebody well-known or influential — everyone except Ginny. Zabini, who was interrogated after McLaggen, turned out to have a famously beautiful witch for a mother (from what Delilah could make out, she had been married seven times, each of her husbands dying mysteriously and leaving her mounds of gold). It was Neville's turn next: This was a very uncomfortable ten minutes, for Neville's parents, well known Aurors, had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange and a couple of Death Eater cronies. At the end of Neville's interview, Delilah had the impression that Slughorn was reserving judgment on Neville, yet to see whether he had any of his parents' flair.
Then it was Harry's turn. She had been dreading this, but maybe he'd have her go at the same time. At least she hoped so. Either way he'd probably wait to see if Delilah had any remarkable talents.
"And now," said Slughorn, shifting massively in his seat with the air of a compere introducing his star act. "Harry Potter! Where to begin? I feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer!" He contemplated Harry for a moment as though he was a particularly large and succulent piece of pheasant, then said, " 'The Chosen One,' they're calling you now!"
Harry said nothing. Belby, McLaggen, and Zabini were all staring at him.
"Of course," said Slughorn, watching Harry closely, "there have been rumors for years.... I remember when — well — after that terrible night — Lily — James — and you survived — and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary —"
Zabini gave a tiny little cough that was clearly supposed to indicate amused skepticism. An angry voice burst out from behind Slughorn.
"Yeah, Zabini, because you're so talented... at posing...."
Delilah snorted. Ginny didn't know, but occasionally when he was bored, Zabini had done some fashion shows for his friends in the Common Room when they were bored. It was more amusing than anything.
"Oh dear!" chuckled Slughorn comfortably, looking around at Ginny, who was glaring at Zabini around Slughorn's great belly. "You want to be careful, Blaise! I saw this young lady perform the most marvelous Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I wouldn't cross her!"
Zabini merely looked contemptuous.
"Anyway," said Slughorn, turning back to Harry. "Such rumors this summer. Of course, one doesn't know what to believe, the Prophet has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes — but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a disturbance at the Ministry and that you were there in the thick of it all!"
Harry, who could not see any way out of this without flatly lying, nodded but still said nothing. Slughorn beamed at him.
"So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond — you were there, then? But the rest of the stories — so sensational, of course, one doesn't know quite what to believe — this fabled prophecy, for instance —"
"We never heard a prophecy," said Neville, turning geranium pink as he said it.
"That's right," said Ginny staunchly. "Neville and I were both there too, and all this 'Chosen One' rubbish is just the Prophet making things up as usual."
"You were both there too, were you?" said Slughorn with great interest, looking from Ginny to Neville, but both of them sat clam-like before his encouraging smile.
"Yes... well... it is true that the Prophet often exaggerates, of course...." Slughorn said, sounding a little disappointed. "I remember dear Gwenog telling me (Gwenog Jones, I mean, of course, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies) —"
He meandered off into a long-winded reminiscence, but Delilah had the distinct impression that Slughorn had not finished with Harry, and that he had not been convinced by Neville and Ginny.
The afternoon wore on with more anecdotes about illustrious wizards Slughorn had taught, all of whom had been delighted to join what he called the "Slug Club" at Hogwarts.
After he asked Delilah a few basic questions, which she answered simply. He seemed a bit disappointed, but continued talking as if he wasn't.
It was rather boring, and she could not wait to leave, but couldn't see how to do so politely. Finally the train emerged from yet another long misty stretch into a red sunset, and Slughorn looked around, blinking in the twilight.
"Good gracious, it's getting dark already! I didn't notice that they'd lit the lamps! You'd better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on nogtails. Harry, Blaise — any time you're passing. Same goes for you, miss," he twinkled at Ginny. "Well, off you go, off you go!"
Delilah was relieved he didn't seem interested in her.
"That was boring," she said in an undertone to Harry and Neville.
Harry snorted.
"At least he wasn't too interested in you."
"Thankfully," she murmured.
Neville frowned.
"That will probably change later. You're too smart for him not to notice you."
She made a face.
"I'll meet with you guys later."
Delilah quickly changed in the changing rooms then searched the compartment for them. It didn't take too long.
"Mind if I join you guys?"
"Of course not." Hermione motioned for her to sit down.
"Where's Harry? He should have gotten back before me."
"He went off in his invisibility cloak. I don't know why, he just stared at Zabini and hurried off."
Delilah groaned. It was like Harry to snoop around if he had a chance to figure out what Draco was up to.
"He's an idiot," she muttered.
"What was that?" Hermione asked.
"Nothing, just wondering what stupid thing Harry got himself into this time."
No one could argue with that.
When the train stopped, Delilah took her time getting out, but she didn't see Harry. Maybe he was under the invisibility cloak. She doubted it — it was too crowded for it to be efficient — but he had done stranger things.
She got on a carriage and finally headed back home.