Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Oath Breaker ❯ Poisoned Potions ( Chapter 5 )

Part 5

False Serpent's Flora: In a small dish, crush two hemlock leaves, add a pinch of arsenic, and fold in one small cockatrice egg. In a cauldron, boil one pint fresh water, add three belladonna berries and stir counter clockwise five times. Once it turns pale green, add the egg mixture. Stir clockwise over a medium heat for fifteen minutes. After the liquid darkens, add one wyvern's claw. Boil down into a concentrate and bottle immediately. Makes a dozen poison phials or one lethal vapor. Store in a cool, dark place.

Draco reread the recipe just to be sure he knew it. This potion would not be graded but he would hear from Severus or Dumbledore if it did not work on the battlefield, and any failure of his would be a strike against his mentor, not to mention an ugly mark against his own reputation. He yawned as he reached for the water and ingredients. Snape kept a severe schedule and insisted on brewing several potions in the early morning before classes, but when Draco had seen the list of poisons, powders and acids that Dumbledore wanted, he didn't argue about the hours.

In the Slytherin common room, safe from distractions and prying eyes, Draco and Severus stood on opposite sides of the largest table, working on their own respective potions. Draco recognized the ingredients in Snape's work as the basis for a venomous acid, but he didn't recognize the recipe itself and after a warning glare from his master to focus on his own work, he ignored everything else but his assignment.

Despite its complexity and volatile nature, false serpent's flora was a mindless poison to create, just add ingredients and stir at the right moment. While he counted off the minutes, watching the simmering liquid turn darker shades of green, he picked up the small bottle containing three wyvern's claws. Quick and vicious creatures, wyverns usually escaped from hunters so even if someone had the money, wyvern parts were rarely on sale, and he wondered how Snape had procured this many.

"Anyone we knew?" he asked softly, staring at the white claws no larger than his smallest finger.

Snape glanced at him and shook his head. "Those came from a dead wyvern Hagrid discovered in the forest. Most of it was rotten, but those were salvageable."

Draco took out one claw and held it close to his eye, turning it over so the light could reflect off its white surface. It gleamed like mother of pearl and the tip looked wicked, but the sides weren't sharp at all. It was purely a hook, not a real talon. "A half-breed wouldn't have turned back, would it? After dying, I mean."

Although he was aware that his apprentice knew the answer, Severus did not snap at him. He added ingredients to his own potion as he answered. "If the wyvern had been a half-breed, then 'turning back' is redundant. A half-breed is as much a wyvern as it is human."

Draco stared at it a little longer, scraping the tip against his skin to see how sharp it was, but death had dulled the talon's point. With a last look, he let it slip into the cauldron. While he waited for the potion to boil down, he glanced through the handful of jars Severus had brought with him to the common room. Most of them were for their morning work, but he noticed a few off to one side that had nothing to do with Dumbledore's list. Old coins, a small handful of human incisors and the bottle of unknown blood sat on a corner of the table. They had nothing to do with any of the potions on Snape's list.

"What are these for?" he asked.

Snape, waiting for his own potion to turn colors, watched him look over the surplus items. "Ingredients I don't have time to use. There are a few other things in my office that I need to get rid of to make room, but I'd rather not let them go to waste. Do what you will with them. If you make something useful, I might be able to fence it in Knockturn Alley."

Taking that as permission to create poisoned curses he'd never tried before, Draco glanced at the two books in the far corner of the room. His father's journal lay on top of the Malfoy grimoire, which didn't lie flat on the table but expanded and contracted slowly as it breathed. Hundreds of spells and potions lay within those books, and he wished he could take those to his classes instead. Beside the books stood his besom, its wood looking less gray and its twigs seemingly fuller, as if he had added more. The leather holding them together looked and felt soft and strong, unlike the dried, frayed scraps they'd been when he first found it. If he kept using it, he wondered if it would sprout leaves. The small collection of Malfoy heirlooms radiated immense power, and he wished he could spend the entire school year in seclusion as he bent that power to his own will.

"Don't daydream," Severus scolded him. "Once that's boiled down, you'll have to go to your classes." He found a slip of paper among his notes and pushed it across the table to him. "Just sit in the back and keep your head down. Everyone should leave you alone."

"And if they don't?" he asked as he picked it up, easily imagining all the ways a lone Slytherin could find trouble.

"Then handle it yourself," his master said testily. "You're not a child and I have more important things to do than lead you by the hand when you don't need it."

They hadn't picked up any textbooks or supplies since Draco would only be sitting in, but even so he hoped his master had not given him anything horrible like divination. Draco looked over his schedule and sighed. Advanced Runes, easy. Care of Magical Creatures, that was useless. A free period, perfect for an early lunch and a stop at the library. Charms, thank God he didn't have to do the work. Potions...what? "Who's this Slughorn person?"

"A new professor of questionable ethics," Snape said. "A Slytherin, but he's distanced himself from our house out of expediency. Don't trust him. He gathers the best and brightest students around him so that he may leech off of them later on in life." He glanced sideways at Draco. "Maybe you'll have nothing to worry about."

"And maybe I'll be beating him off with a stick," Draco retorted, but he doubted it. "I'm surprised you didn't give me Defense," he said to change the subject.

"You already know most counter curses," Snape said. "What you need is more practice, and you'll be getting that as you teach."

Draco hated anti-curse work as it meant a lot of split-second timing, and the more obscure the curse, the harder to deflect. His preferred method of defense was a sneaky offense like ambushes and tricking speeding witches into brick walls. Although Draco's stealth was improving, he didn't like the idea of facing an older, wiser, far more experienced wizard in a duel of sheer strength and cunning. He resolved to spend his library time researching old tricks and deceits.

The bell rang as he finished filling the phials of poison. After he corked the last one, he grabbed the jar of coins. Covered in rust and grime, they each needed to be polished before they could be used, and that would give him something to do other than pretend to listen to the teachers. Severus said nothing as Draco left and he walked through the dungeons in silence, trying to remember the odds and ends in Snape's office that he might be allowed to use.

He took the back corridors and less traveled paths for most of the way, but the runes classroom lay in the middle of a long hallway that, in the early rush, was packed with students. Rather than try to push through, he waited for it to clear a bit so there'd be fewer students to gawk at him. He pulled his hood back over his face and told himself that he wasn't hiding under it, he just didn't want to talk to anyone.

Long minutes passed and he sighed impatiently. People always moved out of the way when Goyle and Crabbe flanked him. He'd gotten so used to their looming presence that he'd forgotten how much taller some of the other boys were, and he hoped the other boys didn't notice until his friends came back. He nodded once to himself. They would come back. They had to. He was alone without them. Snape was his mentor, family even, but some things could only be discussed with a fellow student.

When just a handful of students still milled about, he walked a little too quickly to class, ignoring everyone even though he felt their eyes on him. Inside the classroom, conversations stopped and the room turned quiet but he didn't look up as he took his seat in the very back.

To his surprise, someone had left a Daily Prophet on the chair next to his so he took it and spread it out. Ministry Sabotage read the headline, but he chuckled to see that it was only about a series of jinxes that had turned their flying messages into guided missiles. The photograph showed a poor wizard endlessly assaulted by the little things, ducking as they whizzed over his head. All ministry business was on hold until they could dispel the jinxes and work without injury.

Ridiculous, he thought. Practically a fluff article when there was a war on.

Someone sat down heavily in the chair next to him and he turned to glare, hoping it would make them sit somewhere else. Hermione would not budge, however, and didn't even seem to notice.

"Good morning," she said, not bothered when he didn't answer. "You're on page three," she said, nodding at the paper.

He flipped over the first page and froze. A photograph of his destroyed home smoldered in front of him while aurors picked over the wreckage, but it was the picture of himself, his father and his mother further in the article that held his attention. He didn't remember when it was taken -- his father's reputation meant that photographers were always trying for family shots -- and he figured that he was three years younger in the photo. He gazed at himself, still brazen and energetic, before his father's imprisonment, the months in the Ministry and his long absences from Hogwarts. His father lay a hand on Draco's shoulder and smiled at the viewer as if presenting his son, not proudly, but with the assurance that Draco would become more than his slight build and cocky attitude presaged. Behind him, his mother did not touch either of them but stood reassuringly close. He tilted his head. Well, it was reassuring to him. No doubt anyone else watching would only see a cold sneer and distant disdain. Lightly touching the edge of the photo, he forced himself to look at the rest of the article.

"The Ministry of Magic released new details this morning regarding the destruction of Malfoy Manor, home of the convicted yet recently freed Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, also a former Hogwarts school governor. 'The blaze seems to have been intentionally set while people were still inside,' said Edward Breakgate, chief investigative officer for the Ministry's Department of Arson and Flaming Curses, confirming the rumors that this was no accident.

So far three bodies have been recovered, all of them charred beyond recognition. 'After a brief examination, we concluded that we have no reason to believe that they are Mr. or Mrs. Malfoy,' Breakgate said. 'Further investigation is required before we know exactly who they are and what happened. If anyone has any information, we ask that they come forward to answer our questions.'

Little other information was officially released. However, the Daily Prophet has received news that at least one Malfoy escaped the flames. Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's only son and heir, currently resides at Hogwarts School for Wizards, but not as a student. He has invoked the old hospitality laws and lives as a guest, enjoying comfortable sanctuary. Our more legally savvy readers will note that this implies that the Malfoy family requested said sanctuary during a time of war, a controversial stance for headmaster Dumbledore to take when the Ministry has consistently refused to declare anything more than a limited auror action. Of even more concern is the Malfoy family's influence on the school, as now it seems that the child of a Death Eater with ties to both You Know Who and headmaster Dumbledore now resides among hundreds of innocent students. Requests for an interview with the headmaster, any faculty member or Draco Malfoy himself have been consistently denied.

Without access to a potential witness, the Ministry has few leads in this case. If any of our readers has any information in this matter, please owl Mr. Edward Breakgate, Ministry of Magic Department of Arson and Flaming Curses, Front Office.'

"Idiots," Malfoy whispered. He glanced at the photo of his parents again, both of them looming protectively over him. Not caring that the sound would disturb the class, he carefully tore the photo out of the newspaper, making sure the frame wasn't broken. Once he had his living memory in hand, he secreted it away in a pocket.

Nothing else in the newspaper interested him so he crammed it into the desk and forgot about it. The lesson in today's class dealt with the othala rune and its various magical uses, something he already knew inside and out, so he spent the rest of the class polishing the first coin, cradling it in his weak right palm while shining it with the edge of his robes. Bit by bit, the rust and grime came off in clumps and the silver edge gleamed with faint Latin lettering along the rim.

"So no one suspects what I am?" he whispered so that only Hermione heard him. Loathe as he was to speak with the mudblood, she was the only one he could talk to who knew everything. Severus had told him nothing except to be patient and be quiet, Ron wasn't even worth considering, and Potter...was simply not someone he could talk to.

"No more than before," she answered, not glancing at him as she copied the notes from the front of the class. "Although everyone wonders how you got your father out of Azkaban. Did you..." she paused and lowered her voice even further. "Did you curse people?"

"Ministry officials?" he scoffed. "Bunch of incompetents terrified of losing their cushy jobs...waste of a good curse." He smiled rather like a snake opening its mouth to show off its fangs. His mother and Severus both knew what he'd done so he couldn't brag to them, and he could only stammer out a halting explanation to his father. Here he could finally boast about his accomplishments and remind Dumbledore's faithful soldiers that even though he was fighting alongside them, he was not one of them.

"Father already had dirt on several officials," he started softly. "Did you know that the Chief Officer of Military Defense and Charms likes weekend flings with young muggles in London?"

"There's nothing wrong with liking muggles," Hermione argued.

"Poor taste aside, I don't think her husband would like it. So she arranged for several documents that included my father's record to be misfiled and incinerated." As he spoke, he dug grime and dirt from the front of his coin. A woman's face slowly appeared under his thumb. "The chamberlain of Magical Exchange and Trade, he's skimming off confiscated contraband. To keep me quiet, he did me a favor with a legal amendment that allows convicted Death Eaters to--"

"--to receive a second trial in a lesser court due to tampered evidence and biased judges," Hermione said with wide eyes. "I was so confused when I saw that. I couldn't understand why he'd do it. Or how it passed."

"Fear," Draco said. "They're all afraid of what I know. The Senior Investigator in the Elimination of Dark Artifacts is so scared someone will find out that he doesn't know how to do his job that he lost all the evidence against my family. With no evidence, no witnesses called and three warlocks in judgment that owe my family thousands of galleons to keep the tax collector at bay, the hardest part was keeping the rest of the Ministry quiet. And there's hardly a person in the world who isn't afraid of something coming to light."

It all sounded so simple when he said it, but the memory of his sixth year was anything but. Hounding the Ministry was like a dragon herding scared rabbits that darted every which way in panic. For weeks on end he wrote letters of polite threats, reminders of debts past due, promises to forgive those debts and warnings of what happened to those who forgot their promises. For months he backed up those threats with visits to the Ministry offices. Physically smaller than everyone else, his name and his wealth of secrets towered over nearly everyone. And for a year he barely slept, lost too much weight and fell atrociously behind in his normal studies.

The bell rang. He waited for the class to empty and walked out, avoiding everyone's eyes as he moved through the school. Where he walked, conversation stopped, whispers followed at his back, and students stepped out of his way. For a moment he wanted to relish their fear, but he couldn't, not when he knew they didn't fear his abilities so much as they feared that the darkness around him might rub off. Kind of like being a leper, he thought. They're afraid of me, but not for the right reasons.

Cold wind and the relative quiet of the grounds was a welcome relief. Someone had cleared a path through the snow but white flakes drifted lazily from the gray sky, turning the path to ice. He passed several students who'd stumbled and fallen into their rush to get to Hagrid's hut, but he dragged his feet and never slipped. Eventually he walked off the trail and into the snow that surrounded the little hovel.

Most of the class stood in a circle outside the hut, huddled together in waist deep snow and shivering in their scarves. His own cloak kept him comfortably warm, and he remembered that not everyone could afford specially spelled clothing. He frowned. He couldn't afford it either, but he promised himself that he would, with or without his family's account. And soon.

He didn't care what monster Hagrid was showing off. The half-giant could have done a class on himself. But there was no place to sit and his legs were still tired and sore, so he walked around the back of the circle so he could lean against the hut, and in the process gave himself a good view of Hagrid's subjects. No one stood too close to the large wooden box set on top of the snow because dozens of snakes writhed at the bottom.

"It's all righ'," Hagrid tried to reassure them, but no one looked convinced. "They can' get out. It's so cold out here tha' if they leave the box, they migh' freeze."

"What are they?" a sixth year Ravenclaw asked. "Plain old snakes?"

"Not at all!" Hagrid beamed proudly at the hissing serpents. "They're baby hydras. Very rare, yeh usually only see these around the Mediterranean. That's why I got 'em in the box. It's spelled to stay warm inside, else they'll freeze in this weather. I ordered 'em before the blizzard, so we'll have ter have class inside next time to see 'em righ'."

Hydras? Draco couldn't help taking another look. Blackish green in color, they slithered around showing off three heads per body. Their eyes glittered a bright red as they looked around at the faces surrounding the box. He thought they looked cute, waving their tiny heads and making little hisses. The frills around their faces looked like baby bonnets.

"They're real friendly," Hagrid said, not noticing that no one believed him. "For the firs' few months, anyway. Then they start eatin' their nestmates 'til' only one's left."

A Ravenclaw girl edged a little closer, reassured when she saw they couldn't reach the top. "Is it true they're poisonous?"

"If a hydra bites ya', yer more likely ter die from the stab wounds," Hagrid said cheerfully. "But yes, they are poisonous. At this age, though, one bite won't give yeh more than a headache." He pushed the box towards her. "Go on, try an' pet one."

"What?" she gasped, eyes wide.

"They're real friendly righ' now," he said, gently patting one on the head. The hydra rubbed its head on his hand and ruffled its frill in pleasure. "Just be nice an' they'll be nice back."

Draco watched with a little longing as everyone gathered around to pet the hydras. Figures, he thought. The first time the big oaf brings something interesting and I'm not really a student. And from the way Hagrid was ignoring him, he wouldn't have a chance at all to touch them. No doubt Snape had mentioned something about hydras being wonderful sources of ingredients and scared the half-giant about losing one of them.

No matter. His legs were starting to tremble and his hand throbbed where the spike had run through. With a small sigh, he rubbed his hand in small circles trying to work out the soreness. If he wasn't a real student, then maybe he could leave early, but he didn't want to attract any attention either. He'd try to wait until the class finished. If he starting shaking too badly, though, he'd leave immediately and head for Pomfrey's office.

"Hey, Malfoy."

Draco stiffened. How on earth had he missed Ron being in the same class? The red hair practically blazed when surrounded by all that snow. "What do you want?"

"Out of this class," Ron said in a low voice. "Dumbledore rearranged our schedules so one of us is in each of your classes. I was taking charms before he shunted me off here."

"Don't blame me," Draco said. "I don't want you here at all."

"I noticed you haven't gone to touch the hydras, Malfoy." Ron raised his voice a little so that anyone could hear, and many of the closer students glanced at them. "Afraid of getting you arm torn into again?"

"I don't think Hagrid's all that keen on letting me near them," Draco said. "Snape would love to get his hands on one."

Ron opened his mouth to say something else, but there was a scream and a loud crash as one of the girls next to the box staggered away, clutching her bloody hand close to her chest. Her robe had caught on the corner and as she stumbled, the box tipped sideways and the hydras raced out onto the snow.

"Don' panic!" Hagrid didn't need to shout as his voice boomed loud enough. "They're jus' startled. Help me pick 'em up--ouch--try not ter grab their tails, they can turn their heads righ' quick--ouch--"

Most of the snakes didn't get very far, slowing down once they hit the snow. Several slithered under the students' feet where the air was warmer and tried to dodge the grabbing hands. While Ron and the rest of the students began gingerly scooping up hydras, snagging them just behind the base where their heads met, Draco idly watched them jump to avoid tiny teeth. The sight of everyone hopping around, with a half-giant hopping around with them, made him laugh, earning him several glares.

A loud hiss caught his attention and he looked down at the ground. One more hydra, the largest one and the one that had bitten the girl by the looks of the fangs in the biggest head, curled around his feet to get off the snow. Its heads all hissed in unison at him, rearing up as if to strike.

A few feet away, Ron noticed the serpent threatening Draco and raised his wand. "Stay still, Malfoy, I'll get it--"

Ignoring him, Draco bent and slid his hand under the hydra's body, lifting it gently into the air. It wrapped its tail around his arm and let him hold the base of their necks so that they could strike wherever he wanted them to. Idly he patted the biggest head, knowing that everyone was watching him and that Snape was going to ream him horribly for this later. He looked up at Ron and said softly. "Honestly, my family crest is a serpent. Did you think we chose that just because we liked snakes?"

Hoping his legs wouldn't give out, he took the hydra back to its box and let it crawl back in, withdrawing his hand before it decided to turn and bite him anyway. The hydra might have trusted him, but he'd seen animal handlers mauled by pets they'd have sworn would never hurt them and that hydra looked old enough to have developed a nasty bite.

Figuring that he'd attracted enough attention, he turned and started walking up the path to the Hogwarts. As he passed the class, he heard them whispering to each other, asking if they'd heard what he'd said to Ron. Fortunately no one seemed to have heard him, so maybe Snape wouldn't be too hard on him. To his surprise, Ron hurried to catch up.

"What do you want now?" Draco asked.

"I don't have a choice," Ron said, walking beside him. "Dumbledore wants us with you in every class."

"Oh, for the love of..." Draco sighed in exasperation. "I know I'm dark and evil and eat half-bloods for breakfast, but I promised I wouldn't do anything bad."

"A dark wizard's promise," Ron muttered, but as they walked into the school he looked closer at Draco. "You don't get it, do you? We're not here to protect the students, we're here to protect you."

Draco stopped and stared. "What?"

Screwing up his face as if doing something disgusting, Ron grabbed Draco's arm and pulled him into a corner in case anyone passed by. "Merlin knows I don't trust you, and I don't know what on earth Dumbledore saw that makes him think you're worth anything--"

"How dare you--" Draco started, but Ron cut him off.

"--but even you must have noticed that everyone's watching you. Hermione says you saw the latest Prophet. Everyone suspects, Malfoy, and if they figure out you really are a dark wizard, you're going to need help. An attack might come from a student, a parent, might even come from someone just walking into Hogwarts looking for you."

"What do you care?" Draco asked, pulling out of Ron's grip. "As if you'd mind seeing me dead."

"And don't you forget it," Ron said. "But I saw the pile of potions you and Snape made up this morning. It's more than he could do alone, so as much as I hate it...we need you almost as much as you need us."

Draco stepped back and drew on his hood, shadowing his face. "Push off," he mumbled. "Class is over and I can get to Pomfrey's without a babysitter."

"Fine," Ron said, sounding quite relieved. "And next time you better avoid another stunt like you just pulled. Everyone's going to be talking about how you handled that thing."

"That...had nothing with being dark," Draco said slowly. "And I think you know it. Or is your father really that useless at his job?"

"Being useless to you is a high compliment," Ron said, and his smug smile told Draco that Ron knew his father had been one of the few Ministry officials not susceptible to blackmail. "But yeah...there are rumors about you Malfoys. I always thought they were just stories to explain why your family is so rotten."

"Fortunately for us," Draco drawled, even though he knew he was risking provoking the red head where no one could see them, "being rotten is still profitable." And he turned on his heel and walked away, not lingering to see if Ron was more willing to punch a guest with each accumulating insult.

He reached Pomfrey's office before classes actually ended, reaching the door before too many students rushed out to their next class. Seeing that she was busy with another student, he sank into one of the seats by the door and waited his turn. Now that he was out of the cold, his whole body began to tremble in earnest, and he drew his cloak tight around his shoulders as he hunched over a little.

In a few minutes, Pomfrey sent the girl off to lay down and made sure she was warm and covered before turning her attention to Draco. "I thought you might be in today," she said, standing in front of him. "What's the matter?"

"Everything hurts," he mumbled, "and I can't stop this shaking."

He held as still as he could as she looked over his hand. The faint scar stood out in the pale skin, a jagged line on both sides of his hand.

"Make a fist," she ordered. He tried to, but his fingers would not curl all the way around. She put her hand on his forehead. "You're probably going to be like this for awhile. What you did really took a toll on your body and it's going take longer than just a few days to improve."

She went behind her desk and began pulling several bottles from her cabinet. "I know Professor Snape likes to think his potions are best, but honestly..."

As she poured the ingredients together, a large shadow fell through the door. Draco glanced sideways and watched Hagrid step in with the bitten Ravenclaw girl in tow. He ignored them while Pomfrey nodded them over to the chairs next to him, but to his dismay Hagrid valiantly put his himself between Draco and the student, which forced the half-giant to sit next to him. Draco winced and tried to stop shaking. He couldn't be a scary dark wizard and a trembling child at the same time.

Pomfrey paused in making his potion to heal the girl's cut and give her a simple draught for her headache, then sent her to lie down. "Did you need something, Hagrid?"

"Ah...just summat for all these little hydra bites," he said, showing off the tiny punctures covering his hands. "They got riled up in class."

She nodded once and seemed to decide that the less said, the better. To Draco's relief, she went back to his potion and finished mixing it together, finally pouring it into a small bottle that she labeled "Malfoy." After corking and shaking it for several seconds, she handed it to him. "Take a sip now, and then come back every time you start feeling bad again. I can't let that out of the office, it's got illpop roots."

The taste nearly made him gag, but he swallowed down a mouthful and recorked it. A few seconds passed before he noticed the ache in his hand slowly fading and the shaking went back to being a mild tremor. He gave the bottle back to her and watched where she put it, but he decided not to leave immediately. He didn't have a class this period and he wanted to avoid showing the whole school how weak he was. If Ron hadn't been lying...he shook his head slightly. Why would Ron lie? The blood traitor hated him, he was sure of it.

"Is tha' why yeh left?" Hagrid suddenly asked him. "'Cause yeh were sick?"

Draco hunched over a little more. "Just needed to come in out of the cold, that's all."

"Oh...I though' maybe tha' hydra'd bit yeh, too. Never seen one just let itself be handled like that. O'course I figured yeh'd have kicked up a fuss if it had." Hagrid stared at him. "Yeh won't be after 'em, tho'? 'Cause after what Snape said about 'em bein' good for spare parts--"

Draco winced as Hagrid went on about what he'd heard dark wizards did with hydras. God, could this be any more awkward? He suddenly stood and flipped his hood over his face. Nodding with a quick "thank you" at Pomfrey, he left the office quickly and headed for the library. Let Hagrid think he was rude and dangerous. It was better to be left alone than hear how evil he was again.

The school was different when he was the only one in the hallways. His footsteps sounded too loud and the muffled sound of classes echoed around him. He was pleased to see that he was the only one in the library and took his time browsing the aisles aimlessly. In the bestiary section, he spotted a book devoted to hydras, so he picked that out and sat down in a corner. The book seemed old but a glance at the front showed him that no one had ever checked it out.

He flipped it open to the table of contents and scanned the chapters, whispering the titles to himself. "Hercules: the Hydra in Legend, the Historie of Hydras, Hydra Hemispheres: Mediterranean and South American Varieties..."He looked ahead and spotted what he wanted. "Hydra Dissection in the Dark Arts." The yellowed pages crinkled as he flipped to the back and pressed the book flat. His hand no longer hurt so he began polishing the coin again as he read all the different uses that a dead and dried out hydra served.

As usual, the tone of the chapter annoyed him. Books written by normal wizards about dark wizards tended to be overly dramatic with their condemnation. If he believed everything this book said about him, then he was a lying, scheming monster that skinned hydras alive, stole hatchlings from their mothers' watchful eyes, and created 'poisons most foule and cruelle' simply for the fun of murdering good wizards.

Which was ridiculous. Why murder them when he could simply make them painfully sick and watch their suffering? Much better for extortion and revenge.

By the time he'd finished reading, not only did he understand how a dead hydra would facilitate their potion-making, but he'd also completely polished two of his coins. The silver sparkled nearly white, and he stared at the vague outline of an unattractive woman's face, her nose a little too big, her chin too prominent. He didn't like reading Latin but he could in a pinch, and he slowly made out each faded letter circling the coin. The dates were long since eroded, but he made out enough of the name that he smiled in recognition.

"Cleopatra..." he whispered, tracing her outline with his finger. "History's been good to you."

The bell rang. He looked up, expecting to see the usual handful of Ravenclaws filing in to check books out before heading to lunch. Instead he saw several students clustered at each table, heads quickly turning back to their work as he looked around. The shadows stretched farther than they should have at noon, and he glanced outside at the sun. He winced. It shouldn't have been so low.

Muttering curses under his breath, he shut his book and re-shelved it, then walked towards the door. As he passed the desk, he ignored Madam Pince's disapproving look and spotted the clock hanging over her. "Damn it," he whispered. He'd missed Charms. Not that he minded, but his master now had two things to ream him over.

He made it to the potions room before the bell rang again. Since he probably wouldn't be expected to participate, especially if what Snape had said about this new professor was true, he felt comfortable taking a seat all the way in the back. He spotted Hermione and Ron several seats ahead, but no Potter. Hardly surprising, he thought, since this was an upper level class. But to his surprise, Harry came in just as the bell rang, out of breath and glaring at Draco as he dropped his book on the desk.

"Where were you?" Harry whispered harshly as he sat one desk over. "You were supposed to be in Charms last period."

"Lost track of time in the library," Draco said. He leaned back when Harry narrowed his eyes. "S'the truth. If it's any consolation, I missed lunch, too."

That did seem to mollify Harry, although he still seemed upset. "What was so interesting that you'd miss class? Snape asked about you in the hall. He looked angry that you'd skipped."

"I didn't skip!" Draco snapped. "And I was reading about what kind of poisons you can make with hydras."

"You better not," Harry said, angry again. "Hagrid adores those things. I swear, if you try to make off with one--"

"I won't have to," Draco drawled. "You'll bring them to me. You don't honestly think they're all going to survive, do you? And it'd be such a waste not to use them for 'the cause'."

Harry didn't answer. Draco leaned forward to press the issue, but didn't get the chance. He stared at the new Potions master as he walked in, laughing and joking with a couple of Hufflepuff students as he set his book and bag of ingredients on the front desk. Briefly Slughorn's eyes met Draco's and the professor grew serious, but he quickly looked back at the rest of his class with a smile.

"Today I've decided to give you something a bit more challenging," he said, opening his book to a page he'd marked. "Hallucinarium, which I think you can guess what it does. Did anyone read ahead in their books?"

To no one's surprise, Hermione raised her hand. "Hallucinarium causes the victim's worst fears to appear before him. But sir, the recipe wasn't in the books."

"And for a good reason," Slughorn said. "Five points to Gryffindor. Hallucinarium is a bit like having a boggart in your pocket, except your victim can't cast riddikulus at it. Only the antidote can stop the hallucinations, but since the antidote takes about a week to brew, most sufferers often go mad before help arrives."

He picked up his book and began writing the recipe on the board. "Since this is rather nasty stuff, it's not covered in your books, but it's a good idea to not only know how to make it, but also how to make its antidote. We'll start with the poison itself. I've already got a batch of the antidote prepared in case there are any accidents, but as long as you don't drink it or boil it, there should be no problems. Now pair up and try not to poison each other."

The class laughed and broke apart to begin gathering ingredients. Meanwhile Draco leaned back and read over the recipe. No wonder he'd thought it sounded familiar. He'd seen his mother prepare this when the Death Eaters occasionally visited, proving to Voldemort that his family was still useful and that killing both of them would be premature.

"Oh dear," Slughorn said as he walked around the room, stopping at Harry's desk. "Miss Bobbin is in the hospital with a bad case of feverfew ache. I'm afraid you're the odd man out, Harry. Not to worry, though, I don't mind helping." In fact, he even had all the ingredients with him, which he plopped down on the table.

Draco frowned. He might not be a real student, but not only had Snape and Dumbledore implied that he should do the work, but he damn well wasn't going to sit back and be ignored. "I can partner with him," he said suddenly, drawing several looks and a glare from Harry.

Obviously loathe to speak to him, Slughorn looked over his shoulder in Draco's general direction. "You are a guest, not a student. There's no need for you to do the assignments."

"Is that what Dumbledore told you?" Draco asked. Any idea of trying charm or social niceties to get this teacher's attention left Draco's mind. He didn't need or want anything from him, and he would not see the Malfoy family treated like scum after losing nearly everything. "I heard something different from him. Should we run up and see what he says?"

"Well--if Mr. Potter doesn't mind--and don't think you have to say yes, Harry--"

"I don't mind," Harry said, sounding exactly the opposite, but he sat next to Draco regardless. The look in his eyes betrayed his torn feelings. On one hand, he seemed glad to be rid of Slughorn, but on the other he was now saddled with Draco. As soon as Slughorn walked away, with a slap on Harry's back and a mention of how sporting he was, Harry leaned close and whispered harshly, "what the hell are you doing?"

"Learning a new poison," Draco said, pulling the ingredients close. "Mum never let me try this one myself, and I've been too busy with more complicated stuff with Severus."

"I thought Slughorn said this was complicated," Harry said, watching him sort out the asphodel roots, crocodile eyes and lovage stems, while setting aside the hellebore and raven's blood. Their cauldron already had plenty of fresh water.

"It's just a potion in two parts," Draco said. "I made a similar potion this morning. Given an accurate recipe, there's very few potions I can't make." He pushed blood and hellebore across the table to him. "Here, mix these while I work."

As he began pulverizing the eyes, he glanced at the recipe again to make sure he was doing it right. Not only did he want to rub Slughorn's nose in this, but his master's reputation was also on the line. A good apprentice should be able to make anything with a decent recipe in front of him.

"So what can't you make?"

Draco paused and looked up. "What?"

"You said there's some potions you can't make," Harry said, reluctantly stirring his leaves into the blood. "What are they?"

At first Draco didn't answer. He dropped the roots in the cauldron and added the powdered eyes, then chopped the lovage stems as small as he could and dropped it in. As he stirred it, three times clockwise with a reverse quarter-turn, he glanced at Harry. "Nothing your side will need in a fight, so it doesn't matter."

"Right..." Harry set aside his bowl and pulled out a book full of scribbles and writing in the margins. When he found the page he wanted, he glanced back and forth at it and the blackboard as if comparing them. "It's just odd that Snape's apprentice can't make something."

Draco didn't think he needed to explain how Snape had tried everything to make him learn how to brew love potions of all sorts, to the point of nearly beating the formulas into him. No matter what the potions master did, though, Draco simply did not understand how they worked, and every attempt usually ended up with him making a Neville-worthy mess. "Not as odd as you just being here," he snapped. "I thought you hated potions."

"I hated Snape," Harry said, "not potions. Besides, I need it to be an auror."

Draco nearly stopped stirring as he looked up. "You want to be an auror?"

Harry nodded.

"Why on earth would you want to work for the Ministry?"

For a minute Harry didn't know how to answer. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about it, but Draco seemed so genuinely mystified that he was surprised. "It...it seems the best thing," he said. "I have to face Voldemort, so I might as well be trained."

Draco winced when he heard the name. It brought back memories of escaping the inferno of his home. He took the bowl Harry had mixed and added it to the cauldron. The liquid inside turned a pale white and began bubbling despite there being no fire beneath it.

"Aurors don't play quidditch," he said softly.

The look on Harry's face told him that the Boy Who Lived had already thought about being the Auror Who Never Played.

"There," Draco said, sitting back. "Done."

Leaning forward, Harry studied the potion still bubbling softly. "Are you sure?"

"Have a taste," Draco said with a smile. "He's got the antidote."

Harry gave him a look. "Funny. I know you didn't follow the recipe exactly. You kept giving it small stirs the other way."

"Very astute, Potter. Certain ingredients need an extra turn or they might not mix properly."

"Why?"

Draco looked around to make sure no one was listening, and although a few people were watching and waiting for them to break into a fistfight, no one could hear him. "It is our belief," he whispered, and Harry knew exactly who Draco was talking about, "that when dealing with parts of animals, a quarter turn towards the west, where the sun sets, eases their pain and passage into night. Otherwise their spirits linger in the potion and may even make it unstable."

"What happens if it's unstable?" Harry asked.

He opened his mouth, but an explosion from the table behind them answered for him. A sickly white cloud quickly spread over the classroom like fog, enveloping the nearest students before they could move. Draco tried to get to the door, but he couldn't see anything and bumped hard into someone who started screaming. More students began screaming and crying, some begging for their mothers. He heard them stumbling into each other, heard screams of pain as someone panicked and began beating anyone nearby with a chair. Incendio spells flew across the room. He heard someone screaming about spiders, someone whimpering nearby. One scream stood out among the others.

"Dark wizard! The Malfoy whelp among the children, kill him! Find him!"

Instinctively he dropped to the floor and backed up quietly until he hit a wall. The howls for his blood grew louder and more numerous until he was sure all of Hogwarts was hunting him. His heart beat faster and faster and his whole body felt like ice. He clutched his wand tightly but cast no spells, instead slowly moving along the wall and hoping to find a door. There were no windows but the dungeons were a maze he would hide in until he could escape the castle. Belladonna, his distant ancestor, had successfully hid in the fog when it covered the moors behind her house, and even though she watched her mother stoned to death, by staying quiet and moving slowly she escaped the mob searching for her. Everything he'd learned from her in his dream he used, at last finding a door and opening it just a crack.

The door was wrenched out of his hand as someone threw it open and cast a dispersing charm in the air. Draco tried an expelliarmus spell to clear his way but not only was his spell blocked, he was also yanked out of the room and tossed onto the floor, losing his wand as he hit his head. When he reached for it, the same person accio'ed it away. His hand landed on something soft and as he sat up, he found the bodies of his parents beside him. Bloodied and broken, they lay like ragdolls with eyes staring distantly into nothing. So the mob had found his parents and come for him. He would have cried but he was too scared. Wandless and trapped, fully expecting to die in the next moment, Draco looked up in betrayal.

"Severus...?" he whispered. "Why?"

Snape stared at his apprentice. He had no idea what the boy was hallucinating, but it had left him shaking in fear on the floor, incapable of moving. All around him, the few students who hadn't been affected knelt by the rest of the class as they were each dragged out, trying to make them swallow the antidote. Severus knelt in front of Draco, putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him from bolting.

"All is not as it seems," he said softly. "You have been poisoned and you must take the antidote."

Draco gasped and shuddered as he shied away. "You killed them," he whispered. "You've turned..."

"I did not kill them," Snape said, playing along. "I would never turn from you or your father. And you must drink this quickly or you will follow them."

Draco stared at the vial in his master's hand. Severus had never lied to him before. Still shaking, he took the vial and drank all of it. It burned going down his throat, but as it went through him, feeling like fire in his blood, the bodies of his parents faded and vanished. The cries for his death disappeared and all he heard were students wailing and more teachers gathering to calm them down enough to take the antidote. He looked around, hardly believing the change. Ron lay curled in Hermione's arms as she coaxed him, telling him the spiders would go away. One of the Hufflepuff students he'd seen joking with Slughorn earlier lay in a bloody heap with burned clothes and Madame Pomfrey leaning over her.

"What...what happened?" he asked.

Snape stood up and grabbed his collar, yanking him to his feet as if he was still a child. "Someone's hallucinarium exploded and the smoke hit nearly everyone. Listen to me. Go open up the Slytherin dorm. Everyone here needs to take a shower as soon as possible and it's the closest place. Take Potter with you." And he handed Draco back his wand.

Nodding absently for a moment, Draco looked around for Potter. Harry stood against the other wall, staring at the floor, taking deep breaths as he composed himself. He didn't seem as scared as everyone else shaking off the poison. He seemed resigned to the effects.

"Go on," Snape said, giving him a push as if he'd forgotten which way to go.

"Severus..." Draco glanced up at him. "No one else here knows what I am, do they?"

Snape gave a soft "ah" of understanding. "No. Aside from the handful that you know about, no one else here knows. Now go on."

Obediently Draco nodded and started down the hall, glancing over at Potter who fell into step. Wordlessly they headed for Slytherin, and Draco gave the wall the same password he'd used before, revealing the Slytherin entrance. This time he also added a bracchia charm so the door would stay open. When he went inside, though, Harry stayed put.

"Come on," Draco said, not wanting to be alone in the dark. "We both have to take a shower."

"I need to wait for them," Harry said stubbornly. "They don't know where it is."

"Severus will bring them all," Draco said. "And you need to wash up before the residue makes you relapse."

Harry didn't shudder or groan, but his face tightened. "Relapse?"

"Smoke got all over us. If you breathe in any of the dust on you, you might start seeing things again."

As he waited, Draco wondered why Severus wasn't bringing anyone down yet and decided that his master was still trying to sort the wounded from the merely traumatized.

"What did you see?" Harry suddenly asked.

Any other time, Draco would have sneered and walked away. But not only had Potter just seen his own nightmare, but Draco couldn't really talk about this to anyone else and his mother was not around to hold him. "My family dead," he said. "And everyone around me screaming for my death."

Harry stared at him, and this time his gaze was not so piercing. "Funny. That's almost about what I saw."

TBC...

Authors Notes:

1. bracchia -- Latin, to brace