For two consecutive lessons, I was destined to sit next to a nuisance with the beautiful name of Amanda. Apparently, this would continue in the future as well. Utter gloom… She immediately started getting on my nerves.
"Mr. Malfoy." She inclined her head slightly, formally greeting me. As if we hadn't seen each other today and weren't really acquainted.
"Miss Rosier?" I replied in kind. If she wanted to play games, I'd play along.
"I've heard that brewing potions with you isn't the most fortunate idea — it's fraught with burns."
"I hope you weren't too disappointed to be separated from your friend and now have to endure the danger."
I had caught her hint correctly.
"Not at all. I simply would prefer to be the one at the cauldron. In case you accidentally mix up the ingredients… and scars wouldn't suit me."
"Oh, have we already moved to such familiar terms, Miss Rosier? By the way, don't worry, you'll be beautiful even with burns."
"Alright, I apologize. Now, can you stop?" she said as we switched places. She was at the cauldron, while I was responsible for preparing the ingredients.
"In that case, you stop too, Amanda. You know perfectly well who is responsible for that incident. Let me remind you, you were the one who told me who the culprit was."
"But did you believe me? You know, I'm offended by such distrust."
"Did I ever doubt your words?" I feigned surprise masterfully. While talking, I crushed the snake fangs into a fine powder with a pestle. Amanda was heating the cauldron. For some reason, our conversation had turned into an exchange of mutual questions.
"In that case, isn't it humiliating? To leave the culprit unpunished... Many will think…"
"Let the fools think what they want. You're not one of them, are you, Amanda?!"
My words caused Amanda to falter slightly, not expecting such a response. She was used to being able to, roughly speaking, challenge people with such words. But I wasn't a juvenile idiot… I was just a juvenile.
"Not at all. I believe you won't let things stay as they are," said the blonde serpent, looking me straight in the face.
"You see, Amanda, revenge is a dish best served cold," I replied, looking intently into her eyes and, of course, not forgetting to smile a little wider than usual. She immediately averted her gaze.
After that, we switched to the topic of Potions. The two lessons passed relatively calmly. Well, as calm as possible with Professor Snape, who seemed to take genuine pleasure in striding between the rows and peering into cauldrons, occasionally offering advice that made some blush with shame. After all, Snape's manner of explanation couldn't do without accompanying hints about incorrect hand placement or riddles about someone's apparent lack of a brain.
I'll be honest, Amanda made the task much easier. We easily received an 'Outstanding' after showing our potion to Snape. And I could say with confidence that, despite my words and the recent bubbling cauldron incident, Snape still treated me slightly better than the others.
This isn't surprising, considering we had occasionally spoken even before school. Of course, the conversations were of the 'we have a guest who is also your father's friend' variety, but still.
Although I wasn the Head of House's godson, like my younger brother, I did have a certain, almost imperceptible, positive bias from the Terror of the Dungeons. Perhaps he even knew I wasn't to blame; after all, I hadn't acted like an idiot… until now.
I wonder if my godfather will also treat me well? Although… it's better not to test that. It's a good thing no one knows who my godfather is — my family carefully keeps that fact a secret. Even Draco didn't know about my godfather. Otherwise, just for that fact, someone would surely try to bump me off or have me imprisoned, just to be safe. Ahahahaha!
Although the Minister eats out of my father's hand, as does part of the dark faction. The 'dark faction' is my conditional name for the group of former Death Eaters and generally radical blood purists who are also Lords, meaning they sit in the Wizengamot. So, theoretically, I could even kill someone in broad daylight, and they would still try to get me off to ensure I definitely don't end up with the Dementors. It's good to be a rich kid and, in general, a master of life. That other me, deep down, definitely dreamed of this, and it seems dreams do come true!
After a tasty and hearty lunch, where everyone grumbled about History and Potions, we went to relax. Today, Snape hadn't assigned any homework, and for History, we had some, but it wasn't checked — who would check it when our teacher is a semi-sentient ghost, as if programmed for specific actions and responses?
Almost all the first-years were relaxing. We had Astronomy with the entire year... The Astronomy lesson started exactly at 10:00 PM. So we were legally out after curfew. Of course, no one would let the little "morons" go alone at such a time, especially to trek to the Astronomy Tower.
At exactly 9:45 PM, two teachers came for us: the staff member on duty and the Astronomy teacher herself — Aurora Sinistra. Then we were practically led by the hand to the top of the tower; for safety, each house was escorted separately by a prefect. During the lesson, for almost two full, regular class periods, we listened to the lecture, looked at the stars, drew star charts, and more. So we finished around midnight. The older students, by the way, started at midnight.
Perhaps the harshest subject in terms of inconvenience. All this time, the teacher on duty watched over us to later help guide us back. Once, instead of the duty teacher, it was the Head Boy, Bill Weasley. By the way, a good guy; I exchanged a few words with him then. Quite smart and understanding of how to behave. Moreover, he was very restrained, polite, and intelligent. I'm surprised he wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Although it's wrong to judge... I'm starting to think in stereotypes.
In the end, I talked with him a bit about his position. I also learned about the privileges and responsibilities, and we chatted a bit about curses. I think in the canon he became a Curse-Breaker, while I will most likely be a Dark wizard, so we had a nice chat.
And now I'm definitely aiming for the position of prefect, and later, Head Boy. Although becoming a prefect was already a goal, now I know that besides duties and a bunch of privileges, you can even take away house points. True, no more than 5 points from one house per month, but you can! And the Head Boy, after graduation, gets a corresponding entry in their record, which is truly valued for further specialized studies or job searches.
According to Weasley, managerial positions are a cinch when you have experience working with teenagers and children who throw magic around. I think there's some truth in his words, but he's too focused on work. Personally, I, of course, won't be working anywhere; I literally have one of the highest positions secured for my family from the cradle — a seat in the Wizengamot, practically the equivalent of the House of Lords in Muggle Britain. Roughly the same, just slightly altered to suit wizarding society and the small population of wizards.
Alright, back to Astronomy. One could understand that Astronomy was an extremely unusual lesson from a student's experience, but overall, it resembled regular astronomy, meaning it was a non-magical discipline, we-ell… almost.
Right now, I was reading a letter from Fletcher. Anonymous, of course, but I knew who the sender was. In the letter, he insisted that he had personally seen Yarwood throwing something into my cauldron. So, after getting a bit nervous, an ordinary, mischievous child snapped a bit and decided to rat out his patron.
And all because of the anonymous letters that had recently started arriving for Fletcher, where some "vile" person was anonymously blackmailing him, threatening to tell who was responsible for the bubbling cauldron incident to Malfoy himself. That is, to me. Revealing both Fletcher's name and Yarwood's name to me.
Of course, the blackmailer was me, hence I know all this. The goal was to verify the truth of Amanda's words and, in general, get the missing details in this stupid story.
Kaiden Fletcher figured he could outsmart this anonymous person and decided to write first, of course an anonymous letter, no originality… The letter contained a story with details, all pointing to Yarwood's guilt.
According to Fletcher, Alistair received a pouch with an ingredient from an upper-year student, having paid him to buy it in Hogsmeade. Before that, Yarwood had taken a book from the library — "Common Beginner Potioneer Mistakes and Incompatible Ingredients. For Starters."
The letter even contained the name of the upper-year student who, at Yarwood's request, bought a relatively accessible ingredient that causes boiling when combined with a specific component in the potion we were brewing on the day of the incident.
Interestingly, Flobberworm mucus is a fairly stable ingredient used in many potions due to its neutrality. But when interacting with potions based on certain mineral-origin ingredients, it leads to less-than-ideal consequences. Although there are potions where mucus is added to a mineral-based potion. The same opal in expensive potions is also quite stable, and nothing would happen, but we were brewing the most basic potions…
Fletcher could have framed someone else instead of Yarwood, but he decided that then he might get caught, whereas if he wrote anonymously, in detail, and faster than his blackmailer, then the blackmailer (me) shouldn't believe the later accusations. He could also spin a bit of a lie to Yarwood on top of the story about the letters I had been sending him anonymously. And thus, simply worm his way out, claiming it wasn't him who told everything, but someone else. Well, that's if Yarwood figured out who the traitor was. If I haven't overestimated Fletcher's intellect, he was definitely thinking along those lines.
"Hear that, Dart? That's how you hook a fish."
"Whoo," Dart replied succinctly, sitting on my arm and receiving his share of strokes. I know he's not a cat, but I need to pet someone. Since I don't have a cat, whom I would definitely name Mr. Bigglesworth… damn… I think I've already made that reference twice. As soon as I get home, I'm definitely going to start begging for books on Occlumency.
So, effectively, the guy gave me compromising material on himself. I, of course, kept his letter, and the handwriting could easily give a person away. Say, one could take a sheet with his test and then just send two sheets, and Yarwood would take revenge on the traitor. Of course, 'traitor' is a very strong word for simple tattling, but that's from an adult's perspective.
I wrote my anonymous letters trying to change my handwriting, and Fletcher wouldn't think to check everything… and couldn't. I don't throw away my test papers after learning the grade, unlike some, including him.
A small move, but extremely effective. In fact, thanks to a couple of letters, I confirmed Yarwood's involvement and that of his lackey, meaning I received full carte blanche for revenge. I had already figured out how to make Alistair a bit paranoid and a bit injured. After all, Avery got burns, and I could have gotten burns too. So, I needed to respond with physical and moral consequences for my offender.
The days passed, lesson after lesson, and I tried to build a solid foundation of knowledge, absorbing everything. Every bit of knowledge makes me better and, potentially, stronger. After classes, we did homework, then I studied supplementary literature recommended by the teachers. By reading and studying, I satisfied my need for theoretical knowledge; practice I got twice a day. I memorized every spell — hammered it into my subconscious. In the end, I managed to master the Banishing Charm non-verbally. And then, a couple more spells.
Now I felt a bit more confident. Now I was trying to cast non-verbal spells without wand movements. That is, I could cast Flipendo without words or without gestures. But removing both components at once… well, it was still proving difficult; after all, this wasn't Lumos with one simple movement.
Also, all this time, I tried to roam the castle with my friends. A note of fun and relaxation is necessary in life. And it's useful… the castle was no longer as confusing as it seemed before, but we hadn't found any secret passages yet. Although there were places that seemed to change with each visit.
As for the Room of Requirement… it was tough. I simply didn't have enough time when I was alone and could quietly wander the seventh floor. I wanted, at least for a while, to have my own safe corner, one that provided everything you wanted: any books from the library, targets for spells, the room full of junk but interesting stuff! And let's not forget the diadem, which needs to be found and re-hidden.
I, of course, hadn't forgotten to prepare my retaliation for Alistair. Two weeks flew by unnoticed, but during that time, I managed a lot. All the actors were in place, all the props were acquired. Finally, the day had come to wipe the smirk off Yarwood's face; he had become too arrogant lately. The school was getting colder, rain poured down as if from a bucket, slapping against the windows, unable to get inside the castle, and students kept talking about Halloween. A holiday known among knowledgeable wizards as Samhain.
After Voldemort's defeat, as part of changes in magical policy, Dumbledore managed to get the celebration of Samhain replaced with Halloween at the school, to help Muggle-borns adapt to wizarding society. And Yule was replaced with Christmas.
In short, even here the Dark Lord had done everything to accelerate the degradation of Magical Britain. For us pure-bloods, this was a sore point. For the noble families, Samhain and Yule weren't just holidays but important magical dates. Although nowadays, for many wizards, even those not first-generation, these were still just simple holidays — Halloween and Christmas, respectively. That's how it is.
And yet, the same Samhain was a magical date when the veil between the world of the living and the dead became truly thin and fragile. And this was a fact, not a superstition, as Muggles believed, or as a certain skeptic and man of science from the 21st century — a part of which I now am — would have thought.
When the right moment came, Yarwood had already forgotten about any retaliation and wasn't expecting anything, or if he was, it was only aimed at Fletcher's head. But after a completely ordinary lunch, during Herbology class, poor Alistair realized that his breakfast was demanding an exit. The plants received fertilizer in the form of a blue-purple slurry mixed with blood. Oh, those pressed leaves of the poisonous Tentacula. It's amazing how easy it is to find this ingredient in the greenhouses and then mix it into the Pumpkin Juice that the slippery Yarwood liked to refresh himself with. And it scares me how well Pumpkin Juice can hide anything.
Nothing serious; such a small dose couldn't cause much harm. Just poisoning, vomiting, and slight damage to the mucous membranes of the gastrointestinal tract, and the skin also acquires a slight purple tint depending on the amount of juice consumed. I told you, nothing super critical.
Well, okay, maybe he'll spend a day with Pomfrey, but that's the whole point! Guess who added this "flavor enhancer" to the juice? Of course, my old acquaintance — Fletcher, who received an anonymous letter with a pouch and instructions. In the letter, I told him I knew about his involvement in this affair and if he didn't want to face the consequences, he should do as instructed.
At lunch, he 'accidentally' bumped into Yarwood's juice and then replaced the spilled glass with his own — full one, which he had already poisoned with my ingredient beforehand. The next day, a slightly purple but almost healthy Yarwood woke up. Thirst clouded the guy's mind, but reaching for the glass of water, he noticed that he had had visitors. They had even left a small gift — a vial of potion. The liquid inside resembled a potion for curing boils.
They had been learning to prepare this potion for about two weeks now and had recently even successfully brewed it. For some reason, Alistair looked at the potion for a long time, and suddenly he remembered part of the recipe — 'add Flobberworm mucus, stirring until the potion turns pink…'