The Other Potter: Book One

Chapter Six: Flying Punches.

[Chapter Six: Flying Punches. Edited.]

I realised, all too late, that I'd spent more time in my dorm than I thought I had. What started as me trying to calm myself down, turned into my being stressed again. I was late for my first potions class.

My teacher is going to hate me.

I grabbed my books and sprinted down to the dungeons, where I spent another fifteen minutes being lost. As I walked into the room, finally, I heard my teacher's voice.

"Clearly fame isn't everything." I tried to glide silently into the room even though I knew it was hopeless. I guess the fact that I tripped up on my brother's school bag didn't help my case. Or that I'd pulled a table over as I fell. I landed with my ribs smashing against the edge of the desk. I blushed so hard that I thought my face would burn off.

"You are late." The Professor said as I picked myself off the floor.

Whenever I see this man, I end up falling over.

"I-I'm sorry Professor." I said, struggling to pick up the table that I'd knocked over. It was really heavy. I wished my heart would stop beating so violently. Looking at the blackboard behind him, I saw Mr-Trip-Me-Over was called Professor Snape.

"Perhaps ten points should be ––" He stopped and looked me up and down. "Sit down." he growled.

I obeyed and sat in silence the whole lesson. Well, it was hardly a lesson. It was more of a 'sit down, shut up and let me torture Gryffindors' thing.

"Class Dismissed. Miss Malfoy stay behind," Professor Snape sat down behind his desk. My heart in my throat, I packed my things and headed towards him. "Detention for a week, after dinner, understood?"

I nodded, gulping back tears. I felt ashamed of myself. Detention? In my first potions lesson? I stared at my hands and started crying. If I had cried this much on one day at home, my father would have humiliated me. In horror, I watched as a tear hit Snape's desk, where he had leant over to write out the detention slip. I hoped he hadn't noticed it, but he looked up at me with a strong, unreadable emotion flaring in his eyes.

"We will wave detention. Just this once. Don't be late again." He gave me a swift look and strode out of the room.

The next few days passed as though I were in a trance. I tried to keep up with everyone, in vain, and I tried to talk to people and not constantly cry. It was a bit of a failed effort. Everyone was still treating me with an air of caution – Harry was always putting food on my plate and trying to convince me to eat. The Weasley twins were always talking to me, but answering their own questions when I failed to speak.

Before I knew it, it was Thursday, the day of our first flying lesson. Everyone was excited, but I could only think about the time I'd tried to use Draco's toy broom, when we were little. I could still remember where my father had struck me with it.

Harry stood up to serve himself some breakfast, and leant across the table to put some bacon on my plate. He gave me a smile which I couldn't make myself return. I was exhausted.

"Mail's here!"

Upon looking upwards, there were no less than one hundred owls swooping down, dropping parcels to their corresponding owner. I looked up with no hope of receiving anything. Hermione nudged me in a way that meant 'don't worry, I didn't get anything either'.

"Look! Neville's got himself a remembrall," said Dean Thomas, a boy in my year.

"I've read about those. When the smoke turns red, it means you've forgotten something," said Hermione smartly. As she spoke the ball turned a deep red, Neville's face soon mirrored the colour.