Dark Magic

An Ominous Note

A low sigh emitted from me as I began to brew the wit-sharpening potion Snape had set for the class. Something I had once found so trivial was now one of the most difficult potions for me to accomplish. Not due to my inability to measure and prepare ingredients, but the lack of magic that came with it. "It'll be alright. I'll cover for you, if need be." Draco reassured, approaching with a handful of ginger and jar of scarab beetles. I glanced up, in doing so, noticing Pansy Parkinson sending me death-glares from across the room. Trying not to scoff, I muttered a simple 'thanks' as I began to crush the ginger with a pestle and mortar.

Our potion was going rather well. The ingredients were coming together nicely and we were roughly a third of the way through. I must have been so enveloped in getting it right, I hardly noticed Draco elbowing me and nodding towards the other side of the room, where Snape was slowly but surely closing the gap between himself and Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"Harry Potter's secret heartache..." My ears pricked, the sound of low laughter emitting from the Slytherin students in the room. "Dear, dear, Potter, what's ailing you now? A boy like no other, perhaps..." I felt my breathing shallow at this in feeble attempt to calm my slowly rising anger. My hand gripped the length of my wand tightly on instinct, though I knew nothing could come of it. My wand was useless, now.

"Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart to a worthier candidate. Though, nothing can be more pitiful than-" Snape came to a sharp halt as I watched his posture straighten. The entire class waited in anticipation for him to read the next line. My anger suddenly washed away, replaced with confusion as a small gasp emitted from Draco, who was now holding a copy of the Daily Prophet, gifted so willingly by none other than Pug-Face Parkinson with a sneer on her pale, thin lips.

"What?" I whispered impatiently. Draco made a useless attempt to screw the prophet into a ball, but I plucked it from his grasp before he had the chance to throw it in the bin, unravelling it to reveal the article.

"Though nothing can be more pitiful than attending a Yule Ball with one's own sister. How truly embarrassing." I felt my stomach drop, the feeling to regurgitate my breakfast causing me to feel suddenly faint. As I glanced around the room, many eyes of other students were now on me, waiting for some sort of reaction to occur. But those dark eyes that watched me from across the room, filled with guilt at his part to play in this utter embarrassment, made me want to cry the moment I looked into them. They were waiting for a reaction, like the one at the Yule Ball. A massive explosion of power that I no longer had, for very few knew of what truly happened that night. I couldn't have done anything, even if I wanted to. However, instead of running and hiding where I could spill my tears in an empty broom closet, I took the deepest breath possible and simply got on with my work, to everyone's obvious astonishment.

It would be a few moments of silence before Snape would clear his throat and order the class to get back to work, not a single mention of the article for the rest of the class. Come the end of the lesson, Draco and I had brewed a more than passable potion, almost to the standard it would have been before. Any ounce of embarrassment from before was almost-gone, as Snape awarded the both of us 10 house points each.

A knock sounded from the dungeon door, Snape's voice muttering it's familiar 'enter', as none other than Igor Karkaroff stepped inside. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck as he sent a cold look my way, closing the gap between himself and Severus, who sat marking at his desk.

Draco and I were too far away to hear their conversation, being situated towards the back of the room, but I had a feeling it was similar to the one they had at the Yule Ball. I watched as Karkaroff pulled his left sleeve up slightly, his eyes growing in increasing worry as Severus sent him a short and angered look, clearly telling him to put it away. His eyes swept the room for any nosey students, lingering on my own for a moment longer before sheepishly averting back to his papers.