Hogwarts Love Story pt 38

Six weeks late, I know. I'm sorry. Really I am. I have a ton of excuses, if you really want to hear them. But here, finally, is part thirty-eight. It's not proof-read, for which I apologise.

Last part, you went to Diagon Alley and spied on Draco, were told by Rebecca Gardener that she is your cousin (thanks to @hp4evr for that character and relation!), went to lunch with Slughorn, and got dragged into the Slytherin compartment by Harry to spy on Draco.

Created by: vulturemonem

Are you ready for...
Our "When Will I Die" Quiz?

  1. I wanted to hit Harry as we sat there, under the cloak, on the luggage rack. Did I want answers about Draco's exceedingly strange behaviour? Yes, of course. Did I want to spy on him in order to get them? No! And yet here I was, cramp building in my foot, listening to Draco and Zabini talk about who Slughorn had invited. I'd been a but surprised to see Pansy's proximity to Draco, considering all the times I'd seen him shove her away in my presence, but perhaps that was merely another section of the Slytherin bad-guy. Whether or not that was part of Draco's true person, I didn't know anymore. I was snapped back to the present when Zabini mentioned my name. "Rivers?" Draco asked. "What did he want with her?" Zabini shrugged. "She's friends with Potter, she apparently got good OWL grades, and she was at the Department of Mysteries. But he was mostly interested in stories about slobbering Diggory." Draco raised his eyebrows in disdain, and started off ranting about old has-been teachers. "Who cares what he thinks?" Draco snapped rhetorically. "I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year." My eyes widened. What? I exchanged a stunned look with Harry. The Slytherins in the compartment echoed our thoughts. "What do you mean?" Pansy asked, indignation clear in her voice. I had to hold back my snicker at the look on her face. Draco waved a hand airily. "I might have moved onto bigger and better things." Zabini snorted. "You think the Dark Lord is interested in someone sixteen years old and not even fully qualified?" "Maybe he doesn't care if I'm qualified. Maybe the job he wants me to do isn't something that you need to be qualified for," Draco said quietly. There was a moment of silence, before Draco pointed out that he could see the castle out of the window. I turned my face slowly to Harry's, jaw agape. Draco had a job to do? A job for Voldermort? I didn't understand. Zabini was, much as it pained me to admit it, right. What would Voldermort want with someone like Draco, especially after Lucius' mess-up at the Ministry? Harry had a self-satisfied look on his face. I imagined that the first words out of his mouth momentarily would be 'I told you so'. But, I told myself firmly, the information about Draco having a job to do doesn't make him a Death Eater.
  2. "Go on," Draco said, as Pansy and Zabini lingered in the doorway, waiting. "I want to check something." Once the compartment was empty, Draco turned to the luggage rack, looking directly at where Harry and I were sitting uncomfortably. My heart thudded. "Petrificus totalus!" Draco's curse hit Harry, and sent his sprawling onto the floor. Instinctively, I gripped onto the invisibility cloak, and stayed perfectly still, hoping that I hadn't been exposed as Draco threatened Harry and stamped on his nose. "Where's your cloak, Potter?" Draco snapped. "Accio cloak!" And, no matter how hard I gripped it, it flew out of my hand. Draco's eyes went as wide as my own when our gazes met. Cheeks flushing red, I swung myself down from the luggage rack and stood in front of him. Draco had grown over the summer, which made the half-stunned, half-furious expression on his face all the more intimidating. I didn't look away. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. My words seemed to snap Draco back into action. "You didn't hear anything I care about," he snarled. He raised his wand, but I had my out too. "Don't," I said, shaking my head. "Please." Draco lowered his wand, and clenched his jaw. "Do you remember what I told you about people like him?" He jerked his chin in Harry's direction. "I told you that he changes people. Makes people do things they don't want to. Things they'd never do under other circumstances. Do you understand what I meant now? Or are you still going to follow him blindly to your death?" "Draco"”" "Shut up. Don't– Do not call me that." "What do you want me to call you?" "We should be enemies, Cailey. You should stay away from me." "That's not"”" "Just this once, I'll admit it. You should listen to Potter. I knew he'd work it out. Let's see how long it takes him to work out more." Draco sounded painfully bitter as he spoke. "He's more like the Dark Lord than he thinks." I stared at Draco. "That is not true." "What would you know? You act big, pretend you understand, but you don't. Nobody does. Except maybe him." Draco jabbed his heel into Harry's fingers. "But he's got it easy. He should I be grateful." He spat. "See you around, Rivers. Don't come looking for me." Draco slammed the compartment door behind him.
  3. For a moment, I stood frozen, unable to comprehend all that had happened in a mere few minutes. But as I watched blood trickle from Harry's nose down to his lips, I knelt down beside him. The light from my wand flashed red as I unfrozen him. He sat up gingerly. "Thanks," he said thickly. I pursed my lips and looked at his nose. "I can't mend that," I said grimly. "Yes you can't," Harry stated firmly. "I'm not going inside like this." "Harry"”" "You mended Ginny's toe in our fourth year. You can do a nose." I pulled a face at his logic. "Be it on your head," I muttered. "Episkey." Harry's nose straightened, and, to my surprise, seemed perfectly normal. "Great," he said. "Let's go before all the carriages are gone." "We'll be lucky to get one now." But, thankfully, get one we did, with Hannah Abbott and a few of her fellow Hufflepuffs. Harry and I got a series of odd looks from students we passed, both for our muggle attire and his blood-covered nose. We were the last into the Great Hall, and Hermione and Ron were peering around anxiously. "There you are!" Ron said. "Where've you two been?" "And what on earth happened?" Hermione asked. "Come here. Tergeo." She siphoned the blood off Harry's nose. "We'll explain later," I said, glancing across to where Draco was sitting at the Slytherin table, looking angry. I looked away quickly before he noticed me. Cedric had begged me not to do anything reckless this year. And what had I done already, before I'd even been given a timetable? Something reckless.
  4. After stuffing our faces with the as-always-impeccable food made in the Hogwarts kitchens, Dumbledore stood to announce the staffing changes. "Professor Slughorn will be taking over the post of Potions master." I frowned. If Slughorn was going to teach Potions, then"” "Professor Snape, meanwhile, will be taking over the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts." Harry was, of course, furious at this information, but I couldn't find it in myself to get overly bothered. My hatred of Snape had never extended so far as Harry's. Although, why had Dumbledore bothered to keep Snape away from the Dark Arts, only to hand it to him on a silver platter? Perhaps he was merely preventing a repeat of the Ministry's terrible staffing proposals the previous year.
  5. When I returned to the common room after Dumbledore had finished thrilling us with optimistic tales of Lord Volermort, I was in no way expecting a piece of mail on my bed. I slid my finger under the seal, and saw that it was signed off by Remus. Tonks had, apparently, seen Harry and I disappearing off the train late, and Remus was warning me not to get myself into danger this year. I smiled to myself, and tossed the letter to one side. When did I ever manage to stay out of trouble? The moment I'd made friends with the golden trio, I'd made sure of never having an ordinary year at Hogwarts.
  6. The following morning, after eating our fills of toast and eggs, we queued up in front of McGonagall to get our timetables. This process, it soon became apparent, was far more complex than it had been the previous years. I was soon cleared for Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, and Potions, and was suitably pleased to see that I had a free period first, followed by an Arithmancy class. An hour and half and a ten-inch essay later, I trudged down to Defence Against the Dark Arts, realising that Hermione had been right – our free periods would be packed with homework. I sat down beside Ron, and, before Snape entered the classroom, and piece of enchanted paper floated down onto my desk. I saw a scrawled note from Rebecca, asking me to talk to her outside after class. I frowned, and looked around for the Ravenclaw. She was sitting next to Padma Patil, looking at me. I nodded once, and burnt the parchment, before curling the ashes into swirls in the air, somewhat bored. The doors banging open jerked me out of my reverie, and the ashes fell quickly to the floor as Snape began to talk about the Dark Arts. While I hated to admit it, if I hadn't disliked him immensely for the past five years, I'd have described the way he spoke as inspiring. As it was, I merely bit down on my lower lip when he mentioned non-verbal spells. I paired up with Hermione, and, for about ten minutes, we stood there, practically purple in the face, wands jerking but spells not flying. Then, finally, she shot a jelly-legs jinx at me, silently. She giggled when it hit me, and shot the counter-jinx at me verbally. "I believe I said non-verbal, Miss Granger," was all Snape said in cold response to her demonstration of excellence. I rolled my eyes when his back was turned. A few moments later, I managed to silently deflect Hermione's curse. We grinned at each other, just as Snape decided to curse Harry. Harry's verbally-casted shield charm was so powerful that it knocked Snape backwards. "NON-verbal, Potter!" Snape barked. "Do you remember me saying this?" "Yes." "Yes, sir," Snape snapped. "There's no need to call me 'sir', Professor." I gasped, but a grin lit up my face nonetheless. Sadly, Harry did earn himself a detention.
  7. As we left the classroom, I told Hermione that I'd see her later, and veered off to the right, where Rebecca was leaning against the wall, twirling her wand between her fingers. "What?" I asked warily. While she'd told me that our rivalry from the previous year was over, I still couldn't help but feel some trepidation. Nothing good had ever come from Rebecca Gardener, and it was hardly like she wanted to have a friendly chat. Rebecca looked across at me, appearing amused. "Stop looking like I'm going to curse you into oblivion." I scoffed. "Like you'd be capable." Rebecca looked like she wanted to throw me a nasty retort, but she didn't. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder before turning back to me. When she spoke, her voice was low. "I know that you have to reason to listen to anything I say, after what I've done in the past but I am telling the truth. Cedric... Don't...don't forget about him." I pulled a face. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" "Don't forget him. He was a good man, and"”" "Stop talking like that! Stop talking like he's dead!" Rebecca looked at me pitifully. "Cailey"”" "If you know something - anything - about what happened, then tell me. Now." Rebecca shook her head. "Don't forget. I tried to make you miserable last year, but I'm not trying to do so now. Do not forget Cedric Diggory." With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared up the corridor, leaving me none the wiser as to what the hell she was on about. Was she implying that Cedric was dead or alive? The possibility of him being dead had crossed my mind only briefly, but as I stood in that corridor, I found myself unable to get the image of Cedric kneeling in front of Wormtail, nearly two years ago, about to be murdered. Had there been a reply of those events? Had Cedric come face-to-face with death a second time, and lost? I pushed the thoughts away. He was alive. He had to be.
  8. Potions proved an interesting affair all-round, although, when I spotted the fair head of Draco Malfoy standing outside the dungeons, my stomach flipped over. After all that had happened between us at the end of the previous year and the beginning of this one, I wasn't sure where I stood with him anymore. Especially considering he'd called me by my surname for the first time since we were twelve years old. I swallowed, and turned determinedly away from him. I wouldn't let another guy make me miserable. Cedric's disappearance made me feel rotten enough. Slughorn waved us in, and I sat down beside Harry, deciding that, as I was in no mood to talk, he was my safest bet. Slughorn pointed to various different potions; the first two Hermione named instantly, and she looked a little put-out when I butted in before she could name the third one. Harry shot me an amused grin. I shrugged indifferently. "Does anyone know what this little potion here is?" Slughorn asked, pointing to a small vial of golden, bubbling liquid. "Felix felicis," Hermione said. "Yes," Slughorn's agreed. "Otherwise known as–?" "Liquid luck," I said. Hermione and I exchanged childish looks across Harry, who looked almost despairing. "Indeed. Liquid luck. This will make all your endeavours come true for twelve hours. And this is what I offer to the person who can produce the best attempt at a Draught of Living Death. You have one hour "” off you go!" He smiled genially around at us all, and, with a clatter of stools and a rustling of pages, we began. I ran a finger down the list of ingredients, and pulled them out of my bag. I began to cut up Valerian roots, and saw, with a start, that Draco was bent over his desk, and look of avid concentration on his face. I was somewhat taken aback; he clearly wanted that lucky day far more than I did. Harry, beside me, was squinting. Someone had written all over his book. I smirked at him. "Better get a new copy quickly," I said. "Yeah," he muttered. However, when he asked to borrow my silver knife (which was not required, according to the instructions), a shred of suspicion worked its way inside me. This suspicion was heightened when, an hour later, I threw my hands up in despair. I couldn't make my potion any lighter than a dark pink. When Slughorn passed my potion, he gave it the same eyebrow raise and nod as he'd given Hermione's. Harry's, beside me, was immediately pronounced the winner. I stared. "How on earth did you do that?" I asked as we cleared away. Harry shoved the book he'd been reading out of towards me. "Read the notes." Whoever had previously owned the book had scribbled notes all in the margins, crossing out bits and adding different notations in. I passed it back to him. "They worked?" Harry shrugged, and nodded. I gave a startled laugh. "Well, lucky devil. Photocopy it, will you?" I was, of course, joking: Harry would have a new potions book soon enough.
  9. As I walked out of potions, somebody bashed into me, hard, from behind. Four years of Quidditch saved me from an embarrassing trip, but I was shocked nevertheless to see Draco toss a smirk over his shoulder at me. I half-expected a cruel remark that he so often gave my fellow Gryffindors. Ron gaped after him. "Since when did Malfoy treat you like that?" "Since yesterday," I said, feeling suddenly weary. "Since someone–" I shot Harry a glare "–made me spy on him." Harry pulled a nonchalant face. "You can't tell me it wasn't interesting." "No, I can't," I agreed, "but I can tell you that I don't think it was right." We passed the list of people that had put their names down for Quidditch trials, and I stared. "When did Quidditch become so popular?" I asked no-one in particular. "Since Harry became captain," Hermione replied, sounding distracted. After getting a run-down on why, exactly, Harry was suddenly so 'fanciable' (Hermione's word, not mine), I flopped down in an armchair, exhausted, but with two essays to write and some non-verbal spells to practise. Somehow, I had a feeling that the coming year was going to be utterly exhausting.
  10. *vulturemonem* I'm pretty sure I said days last time I updated, didn't I? A couple of days until I'd update again? That's more or less the same as six weeks, yeah? No? *bows head* Sorry. But I WILL try my best to get some more out in the next few weeks. I've got some spare time over Christmas and few deadlines in Real Life to meet (for once!) so I hope to make some headway with the sixth year. xXx

Remember to rate this quiz on the next page!
Rating helps us to know which quizzes are good and which are bad.

Related Quizzes:

What is GotoQuiz? A better kind of quiz site: no pop-ups, no registration requirements, just high-quality quizzes that you can create and share on your social network. Have a look around and see what we're about.