Professor Slughorn

Draco hated moments like these, when he was so vulnerable to attack. Simple things like roaming the train’s corridor had become dangerous ever since his father’s arrest. But he felt slightly more reassured than before, now that he could actually use his wand. He rested his hand near his wand pocket just in case, and tried not to focus too much on the queasy feeling in his stomach.

He had no clue which compartment his friends were in. As he walked down the corridor, he could see the shadows of faces pressed up against the glass window, shooting him dark looks through the blinds as he walked by. Draco felt strangely self conscious and then a sudden surge of anger towards Potter. Once the most respected student in the school, he was now talked about as if he was something you’d find on the bottom of your shoe.

Abruptly, a sliding door opened. Out walked a very haughty looking Ernie McMillan accompanied by Hannah Abbott, walking to the prefect compartment. They walked passed him chatting animatedly between themselves, as if he weren’t even there. Draco sneered but they didn’t seem to notice, leaving him feeling rather stupid. Maybe he should just go to the prefect compartment, he thought. He really wanted to avoid students from other Houses (and Pansy, who was a prefect herself), but couldn’t see how it could be any worse than standing alone, looking very silly.

The prefects’ compartment was much bigger than the others. The sliding door had a slightly golden tint to it, and rather than the typical silver handle found on other doors, this handle was in the shape of the Hogwarts crest. He was a couple of compartments away when a door ahead on his right slid open.

An angry looking Ginny Weasley walked out, followed by a sixth year, Zacharias Smith. She seemed rather annoyed, but Smith didn’t look like he noticed. Neither of them saw Draco standing behind them.

“Zacharias, I don’t care how many times you ask, I’m not telling you what happened!” Ginny faced Smith with a murderous stare.

“Ginny, as a past member of the D.A, I feel as if it is my right to know-”

“Bollocks! You didn’t do anything in the D.A. All you did was complain and make stupid comments about Harry!”

“Well, you know, you shouldn’t let your relationship with Harry overshadow the fact that I was a vital member. I just want to know what happened! Come on, is it true that Harry’s really the Chosen One?”

Ginny had such a terrifying look on her face at this point that Draco was a little surprised Smith was still smirking. Her jaw muscle twitched; it was remarkable how much she looked like an angry hippo. Though it looked like she wanted to yell in his face, she simply shook her head and stepped in front of him towards the door. “Leave me alone, Zacharias. I’m warning you.”

“Ginny, I have a feeling I know why you’re protecting Harry through all of this. You should really let that school girl crush go, you know.” Smith grinned smugly.

Ginny faced the compartment door, frozen. She turned a pale pink, then a red, and finally the colour of her brothers’ bright orange hair, all in a matter of seconds. Suddenly, she whipped around, her wand outstretched towards Smith. “Chiroptera Volpus!” she cried, slashing her wand in the air.

Smith fell to the ground howling, clutching his face. Then, his hands flew away and his mouth opened in horror, for miniature bats had begun flapping out of his nostrils and started to attack his face. He tried to bellow some profanities, but they weren’t heard over the screeching of the bats. Draco almost felt sorry for him, having remembered being in that position last year all too well.

He looked up at Ginny, who was laughing, her angry front gone.

“That’s not very nice Weasley,” Draco said drily. “My nostrils haven’t felt the same ever since you mauled me last year.”

Ginny opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a booming voice coming from behind.

“Well, well, what seems to be the problem? Merlin, what’s wrong with him? Are those miniature Bludgers flying out of his nose?” The extraordinary voice belonged to what appeared to be a plump sea walrus. The man’s head was bald and shiny, and he sported a magnificent handlebar moustache. His dark purple robes were stretched tightly over his protruding stomach. His hands were adorned with sparkling rings; in his right, his wand, and in his left, small cubes of some sort of sugary treat.

Draco couldn’t see how the winged bogies looked anything like a Bludger, but he wasn’t about to argue with a complete stranger.

“Er…”Ginny began hesitantly. She seemed to be in shock from the man’s sudden appearance.

“Oh yes,” the man chuckled to himself. “You must have no clue who I am! Professor Slughorn, m’dear. And you are?...” He pocketed his wand and stretched out his hand.

“Er…Ginny Weasley.” She shook his hand. “Professor, this,” she gestured to Zacharias, who had stopped screaming, but still lied on the floor clutching his swollen nose, “was all a big misunderstanding.”

“Oh, really? Doesn’t look like a misunderstanding to me.”

Ginny was turning very pale now. “Well, you see, Mr.Smith and I were…er…having a bit of a disagreement… really Sir, I was left with no choice.”

But amazingly, to Draco and Ginny’s shock, Professor Slughorn’s face broke out into a surprised smile. “Oh ho!” he exclaimed. “This was your handiwork, Miss Weasley?”

Ginny nodded unsurely.

“Well, then, I’ve never seen this hex before! Very original, very original indeed. Of course, it’s much past my time, but nonetheless…brilliant work. What year are you in, my dear?”

Ginny’s face was slowly returning to its original colour. “Um, fifth year, Professor.”

“Excellent job, Miss Weasley. You’re very skilled with your wand. I’m sure Mr…Smith, you said? Well, I’m sure Mr. Smith won’t be crossing you again anytime soon.” He smiled kindly at Ginny, who tried to smile back, though it turned out looking more like a strange grimace.

Draco felt annoyed being ignored while Professor Slughorn salivated over the Baby Weasel. He stepped forward and said loudly, “Nice to meet you, Professor. Draco Malfoy. You probably know my father.”

“Malfoy, eh?” Slughorn did not offer Draco his hand back. “I know your father all right…er…terrible news that is, just terrible. Very sorry to hear it, Mr. Malfoy.” Professor Slughorn looked around awkwardly and didn’t seem very sorry at all.

Draco’s stomach sank as he dropped his hand quickly to his side. “Yes well, I expect that I’ll be seeing him soon, so, there really isn’t a problem,” he said coolly.

Ginny muttered something under her breath.

Professor Slughorn chose not to reply to Draco’s comment and turned back to Ginny. “Ms. Weasley, around lunch time, I’ll be having some of your classmates over in compartment C.” He gestured to a larger compartment besides the prefect compartment. “I’d be delighted if you could join us. I want to hear about any other hexes you’ve got up your sleeve. Crystallized pineapple for everyone who comes.” He winked while opening his left palm, where several sugary cubes lay.

For a moment, Ginny hesitated, but then said quickly, “Um, of course! That’d be really lovely.”

Professor Slughorn grinned widely. “Excellent! I’ll see you then. And don’t worry about this.” He jerked his head towards a furious looking Zacharias, whose bogies were finally under control. “Your secret’s safe with me.” He winked again, and without even looking at Draco, bounded off to compartment C with a slight bounce in his step.

“Well then,” Smith said, getting up. He shot an evil glare at Ginny, who was smiling widely. “You can be sure that I’ll be reporting you to a teacher- a real teacher.” He looked darkly at compartment C.

Ginny snorted. “Don’t even think about it, unless you haven’t had enough of your own bogies attacking you.”

Smith showed her a rude hand gesture and stomped down the corridor towards another compartment, pushing Draco out of his way.

“Watch it,” Draco snarled after him. “Git.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Draco turned around. Ginny stood tall, hip cocked, and hands folded across her chest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Draco asked coolly.

“Git,” she mocked. “Who do you think you are?! You’re just as much of a pain as he is. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about Diagon Alley.”

“Put yourself in my position, Weasley. Imagine having to roam the halls with the pure blood community’s biggest disgrace. You Weasleys, with your orange hair and poor clothes; it’s a miracle you’re not hexed on a daily basis.”

“Oh, you rotten... Malfoy, I think we all know who the real disgrace to the community is.”

“Oh?” said Draco sarcastically. “Yes, with my impeccable manners, well-off family and pure blood lineage, I can really see how I’m the bane of wizards across Britain.”

“Well your imprisoned Death Eater father certainly isn’t helping your reputation.” Ginny held her breath and waited. She held her chin up defiantly, as if daring Draco to respond.

Draco took one menacing step forwards, eyes locked with hers. “Weasel, I suggest that you don’t meddle in affairs that don’t concern you.”

Another step.

“You know nothing of my father-”

Another step.

“-or have the slightest clue what honour is about.”

They were now an inch apart. “Don’t ever talk about my father again. I have the power to do things to you and your disgusting family that would make your head spin.”

Ginny stood her ground, but Draco could have sworn that she was shaking; with fury or fright, he wasn’t sure. A familiar voice yelled out from behind.

“Draco! Where’ve you been?” called Pansy. She sounded impatient.

Draco and Ginny didn’t look at her. They remained locked in a silent battle of wills, neither of them wanting to be the first to turn away. At last, Draco ripped away his gaze, but not without sneering one last time for good measure.

“I’m coming now,” said Draco. He turned back to the still Ginny, whose freckles stood out so clearly now, eyes ablaze with anger. “Remember, not another word, Weasley,” he said quietly.

He followed Pansy to their compartment.

~*~

“What were you doing with her?” scoffed Pansy. Her tone was laced with jealousy.

“Who’s ‘her’?” asked Blaise.

“The girl Weasley,” said Pansy.

Blaise wrinkled his nose. “Are we associating with filth now?”

“No, just taking out the trash,” replied Draco coldly. He slid down onto the seat next to Pansy. Blaise sat across from them, squeezed in between Crabbe and Goyle’s massive figures. The two didn’t acknowledge Draco’s arrival, Crabbe with his nose in his comic, and Goyle feasting on a pile of homemade sandwiches.

Blaise snickered. “Good answer.”

Draco simply nodded and hurried on to change the subject. “Did you see the new Professor yet? An old bald man? Ridiculous moustache?”

“Ooh, what’s he like?” asked Pansy, interested.

“Just like the other teachers in this sad excuse for an institution: a disgrace.” Draco wasn’t entirely over being rejected for a Weasley (though he was not about to mention this to them).

Pansy frowned. “You’re right, dear. We should all be in Durmstrang, not this dump…I wonder what the old sod’s teaching.”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts, I suppose,” said Blaise.

“What a waste of a subject,” said Draco bitterly. He was feeling very annoyed. “A complete waste. Anyway, I won’t be needing to defend myself against the Dark Arts any longer…”

“What?” said Blaise sharply.

“Nothing, nothing,” said Draco offhandedly. He averted his gaze from Blaise’s suspicious one, trying to seem nonchalant. Blaise stopped looking at him, but Draco wasn’t stupid enough to think that Blaise had simply brushed it off. He’d have to be more careful next time…but really, all he wanted to do was tear his left sleeve off and bare his arm for them all to see. Why should I be hiding this, he thought bitterly.

Draco hadn’t realized the compartment door was open until he saw a flash of red go by. He thought it was the Baby Weasel again, but it wasn’t. Rather, her older brother alongside the Mudblood Granger were standing in the doorway, staring at him.

Ron narrowed his eyes. “Why weren’t you in the prefect compartment?” he asked bossily.

Draco laughed and raised his hand, his fingers forming the same rude hand gesture Zacharias had used earlier. The others in the compartment snickered.

Ron clenched his fists, but was silenced by Hermione, who put her hand on his arm. “Just leave it,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Let’s just go.”

They left, Ron still red in the face. Everyone was still laughing as they walked away.

Draco’s snickering died down before he suddenly said, “I hate the Weasleys.”

Pansy turned to him with a look of adoration and smiled, showing all her rodent-like teeth. “Don’t we all?” She rested her head on his shoulder and breathed heavily.

Her hair seemed to burn a hole right through Draco’s shoulder. He suppressed a shudder. If it weren’t for Blaise’s jealous gaze, Draco would have pushed her off.

They remained seated like that for the next hour, each talking about of their respective summer. Blaise had visited Peru with his new step-father while Crabbe excitedly talked about finally completing his comic collection with the hundredth volume of Peter the Pureblood. Pansy was in the middle of her elaborate story about her new hair rollers when a stiff figure appeared at the doorway. Draco recognized her from Hogwarts; she must have been no older than a third year.

“I’m to give this to Blaise Zabini,” she said. In her quivering hand, she held a scroll of parchment. She looked very uncomfortable, focusing her gaze on an empty seat in an almost scared way.

Draco felt smug.

Blaise, looking confused, took the scroll. Without saying another word, she hurried out of the compartment.

“Did you see that? She was going to wet herself, she was.” said Draco gleefully.

But no one responded, because Blaise had started reading out the scroll:

Mr.Zabini,

I’d greatly appreciate you joining me in my compartment for lunch in compartment C.

Sincerely, Professor Horace Slughorn

“Professor?” said Blaise. “Didn’t you say that you met a Professor, Draco? Funny how you didn’t get an invitation.” He smirked.

Draco acted as though he hadn’t heard Blaise, but couldn’t help the flush that crept up his neck. He looked out the window, blood pounding in his ears.

“Well, I suppose I’m off then,” said Blaise haughtily. “Buy me something off the trolley, will you?” He flashed a smile at Draco and stalked out the compartment.

Once Blaise left, Pansy turned to Draco, looking unsure of what to say. “Draco…” She reached out her hand.

Draco slapped it away. “Just close that bloody door, will you?” he snapped.

~*~

Without Blaise, the train ride was more boring than usual. At least with him there, Draco thought while chewing on a Chocolate Frog, Pansy’s annoying affection was somewhat useful in making Blaise jealous. Now all it did was annoy Draco beyond belief, and forced him to ask her every half hour why she insisted on using his shoulder as a pillow, when they could just ask for one from the conductor.

A few hours later, Blaise returned. Upon seeing his dark figure through the blinds, Draco grabbed Pansy and slammed his head on her lap. He quickly glanced at Pansy, who was looking very pleased.

The door slid open and in walked Blaise. He made a move to close the door, but for some reason, it wouldn’t close the entire way.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” hissed Blaise. He slid the door back and forth, but it refused to move beyond a few inches of the doorway.

Out of nowhere, the door slid completely open, tossing Blaise onto Goyle’s lap. Draco’s head shot up and Crabbe yelped, throwing his comic into the air.

Draco’s narrowed his eyes, gazing at the doorway. He ignored Blaise and Goyle’s arguing in the background and frowned. It might have been a trick of his imagination…but he could have sworn that he saw a flash of white…and then it had disappeared…

A loud BANG as a disgruntled Goyle slammed the door shut interrupted Draco’s suspicions. Blaise took his seat beside Draco. Sniggering, Draco returned his head to Pansy’s lap. She resumed stroking his hair to which Draco noted, with satisfaction, that Blaise’s already annoyed expression worsened.

“So, Zabini,” said Draco, “what did Slughorn want?”* He tried keeping his voice as casual as possible.

“Just trying to make up to well-connected people,” said Blaise, who was still shooting dark looks towards Goyle. “Not that he managed to find many.”*

“Who else had he invited?” asked Draco.*

“McClaggen from Gryffindor,” said Zabini.*

“Oh yeah, his uncle’s big in the Ministry,” interrupted Draco.*

“…someone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw…”*

“Not him,” whined Pansy, “he’s a prat!”*

“..and Longbottom, Potter, and that Weasley girl.”*

At the mention of Longbottom, Draco sat up. “He invited Longbottom?!”*

“Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there,” said Blaise coldly.*

“What’s Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?”*

Blaise shrugged. Draco continued on, “Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at the ‘Chosen One’,” He paused, before realizing he probably should make a comment about the Baby Weasel as well. He finished, “…but that Weasley girl! What’s so special about her?!”* He hoped his incredulous tone was convincing.*

Pansy gave him a look before carrying on, but Draco was lost in his own thoughts as he found himself trying to answer his own question. So what, she could perform a decent hex. She was still a Weasley, poor and immature as the rest. Maybe slightly prettier – though Draco would never say that aloud… she was a Weasley nonetheless… stubborn, a blood traitor…

“ …a filthy blood traitor like her…” Draco heard Blaise say.* Draco’s stomach dropped, and for a second, he had the swooping feeling that Blaise could read his thoughts- then, he realized, thankfully, that this was impossible. There was a silence before Draco realized they were expecting him to say something.

“Well, I pity Slughorn’s taste,” began Draco contemptuously. “Maybe he’s gone a bit senile. Shame, my father said he was a good wizard in his day. Slughorn probably hasn’t heard I’m on the train.”* Draco slipped the last part in indifferently.

Blaise was not fooled. “I wouldn’t bank on an invitation. He asked me about Nott’s father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, but when he heard he was in trouble with the Ministry, he didn’t look to happy, and Nott didn’t get an invitation, did he? I don’t think Slughorn’s interested in Death Eaters.”*

Draco laughed humorlessly, but knew that his anger was written plainly on his face. “Well, who cares what he thinks?” he said aloofly. He yawned for extra effect. "I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what's it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?"* The effect of his words was instant; it was all he could do to not smile.

“What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?”* cried Pansy.

“Well, you never know…” Draco allowed for a pregnant pause, “…I might have … er … moved on to bigger and better things."*

Even Crabbe and Goyle were gawping at Draco now. Pansy resumed stroking his hair, looking very troubled. Blaise stared blankly into space until finally looking up at Draco.

“Do you mean…” said Blaise slowly.*

Draco shrugged. He spoke slowly, choosing his next words carefully. “Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don't see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it... when the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many OWLs or N.E.W.T.S anyone's got? Of course he isn't. It'll be all about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown."*

“"And you think you'll be able to do something for him? Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?”*

Draco got up from Pansy’s lap and leaned forward, speaking lowly, almost in a whisper. “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.”

The compartment was completely silent. Crabbe and Goyle’s eyes were bulging out of their sockets, their mouths wide open. Draco could feel Pansy’s eyes burning holes into him, but he was most interested in Blaise’s reaction. Blaise wasn’t gaping in awe like Pansy, yet there was no mistaking the impressed look in his dark eyes.

Not wanting to ruin the dramatic aura, he carelessly pointed at the dark sky. “I can see Hogwarts,” he said quietly. “We’d better get our robes on.”*

Wordlessly, everyone reached for their luggage on the racks above. Then, a sharp gasp interrupted the silence. Draco whipped his head up to the luggage rack, where the sound had come from. He looked at the others, but no one seemed to have heard the strange noise. He frowned. He was certain that he hadn’t imagined the noise…and that flash of white earlier was very much real as well …

Crabbe and Goyle left the compartment, followed by Blaise. Pansy stretched her hand out to Draco expectantly. However, his suspicions hadn’t left him; he was thankful for the excuse to refuse her offer.

“You go on, I just want to check something.”* She left looking slightly disappointed.

Draco slowly made his way to the compartment door and shut the blinds. Subtly, he slipped his right hand into his pocket, grasping his wand. He bent over his trunk while looking out of the corner of his eye.

Sharply, he whipped around, wand in hand, pointing at the luggage rack. “Petrificus Totalus!” he cried.*

A blurred figure came toppling out of the track and rolled to Draco’s feet. Harry Potter stared up at him completely paralyzed in a crouched position, his eyes moving rapidly from side to side. Beside him was his Invisibility Cloak.

Draco grinned.

“I thought so,” he said happily. “I heard Goyle’s trunk hit you. And-” Draco’s eyes fell on Harry’s white trainers, “- I thought I saw something white flash after Blaise came back. You didn't hear anything I care about, Potter. But while I've got you here..."*

He slammed his foot on Harry’s nose. It broke with a sickening crack.

“That’s from my father…now let’s see…”*

He grabbed the cloak and tossed it on Harry’s immobilized figure, rendering him invisible.

"I don't reckon they'll find you till the train’s back in London. See you around, Potter... or not."*

Stamping on Harry’s fingers, he left the compartment, trunk in tow.