Love Potion #9-3/4

An Unlikely Friend

I woke up slumped over a mahogany grand piano, rubbing the crumbs from my eyes. The late October air tasted stale in my mouth and I groaned. I hadn't meant to fall asleep here.

The walls were covered in art and photographs, scraps of writing littering the floor and the desk against the far wall. The room was small, but it felt more like home than anywhere else in the world. Over the last seven years, it was the only place I could truly call my own.

The sunlight outside fell through the rustling autumn leaves, and refracted through the window pane just to fall onto the golden grandfather clock that nearly touched the ceiling. It chimed 10:00 in the morning.

"Shit," I grumbled. Phil would be waiting for me.

I grabbed a dinner roll off of the desk, leftover from last night, and fled to the door. Checking carefully that the corridor was clear, I crashed through to the halls and sprinted down to the first floor. Phil Lester was waiting there, in front of the library entrance.

"You're late," he teased cheerfully.

"Sorry," I told him through the mouthful of the dinner roll. "I just woke up."

"Clearly," he giggled.

I wrinkled my nose at him, but decided against arguing back. We had business to do.

"Is he out there?" I whispered to Phil.

He nodded, grinning mischievously. "He's been practicing all morning! No wonder he beat you last week."

I punched him playfully in the shoulder, and he rubbed it laughing. "I'm just kidding!"

"I know, I know." I said to him. "Now let's get out there. Through the side entrance, so he doesn't spot us."

Phil nodded at me, and we crept out silently to the quidditch field. Peering around the corner of the tower, I could spot Dan Howell practicing blocking a quaffle through the stadium. His brown hair was drenched in sweat, but he wore a familiar idiotic grin that make my teeth clench. My eyes rolled at the sight of him.

"Okay," I said, turning towards Phil. "What's that spell you found?"

Phil pulled out a library book from his robes and turned to a page he had marked with a piece of scrap paper. He pointed to a passage. "This is the incantation," he explained to me. "All you have to do is point it at the quaffle. And don't miss!"

I nodded, taking the book in my hands and raising my wand. I watched Dan toss the ball around and block it in different positions. I just had to wait for the right moment. Wait... wait... now!

"Epoximise," I whispered, pointing the wand at the quaffle as it flew towards Dan's open hand.

Just as Dan went to catch it, the quaffle turned into a sticky, jelly-like substance. It clung to his hand, and his face immediately dropped in astonishment. When he tried using his other hand to pry the quaffle off, it stuck to the quaffle just as well and rendered both hands completely immobile. He slid to the ground, confused and panicking. Phil and I burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"Did you see his face?" I roared at Phil.

Through tears he peered around the corner once more, dropping to the floor laughing. Our sides began to hurt but we hardly cared. We watched gleefully as Dan waddle off the field, having somehow stuck his left leg to the jelly quaffle as well. Through sobs, I tugged at Phil's robe to get his attention.

"We better get out of here," I told him. "If we stay much longer someone's gonna spot us."

We stood to leave, but rounding the corner we ran directly into Professor McGonagall. She stared down disapprovingly.

"And just what do you two think you're doing?"

Both of us immediately fell silent. The ache in our ribs now stung almost as hard as McGonagall's stare.

"Detention. Both of you." she said, and grabbed the library book out of my hand. "And five points from each of your houses."

Phil and I sighed, but we knew better than to argue. Still, I thought as she led us away, just seeing the look on Howell's face might have been worth it.

As I walked into detention that evening, with Phil's unwavering smile beaming at me from one of McGonagall's desks, it occurred to me how lucky we had been to get caught by her of all people. In the unruly times we were living in, there's no telling what someone like "Headmaster" Snape or the Carrows would have done. But McGonagall, although strict, was nothing if not a safe haven. I flashed her an apologetic smile as I walked in.

"You'll be erasing graffiti from the textbooks using this," she said, handing me a bright white eraser. "It's been enchanted to erase anything, so there's no need to use any magic to get off any quill marks. Just be sure not to erase any of the print."

I nodded to her and sat down at a desk, starting on my stack of textbooks. Maybe ten minutes had passed when the door opened again. Whirling around, I watched a Slytherin girl with long brown hair walk in.

"Sorry I'm late professor," she explained. "Peeves was-"

"It's alright, Miss Wiley. Go ahead and sit down." Professor McGonagall repeated the instructions to the girl, and I concentrated back on my stack.

If anything, I began to realize, she had become softer since the year started. Maybe she understood how hard the year was for us students. Or she was mourning Dumbledore. Whatever the reason, it was nice to have someone left to turn to.

The time ticked by dully, but I got through it remembering the horrified look on Howell's face when the quaffle stuck to him. Sometimes I even had to suppress a grin. It almost seemed, at times, that Phil was doing just the same. We exchanged meaningful glances from time to time.

About 40 minutes in, a second year burst through the door. "Professor! You've got to come quickly!"

"What is it?" Professor McGonagall immediately sprang from her seat.

"It's Peeves! He's blocked the west corridor with desks!! Professor Snape can't get him to stop."

"Merlin's beard," she muttered as she began walking out of the room. "I expect all three of you to be here working when I get back."

With that, she slammed the door behind her.

Phil turned to the Slytherin girl in shock. "Is that why you were late?"

She shrugged. "He hadn't blocked the hallway when I went through. He was just pushing desks around."

The three of us burst into laughter trying to imagine Snape wrangling desks from Peeves' grasp.

We introduced ourselves to the girl.

"I'm Heather." she told us. "I'm a seventh year."

"Us too!" Phil said.

"I think I've seen you around before," Heather replied, pointing to me. "Aren't you a Gryffindor chaser?"

I grinned widely.

"The best chaser there is!" Phil said.

Heather smiled back. "I have a friend who's on the Sl-"

The door flung open and McGonagall, looking a little disheveled, strode to the front.

"Thank you for staying put," she told us tiredly. "You may go."

Phil and I beamed at each other. It was 15 minutes early. We walked out of the classroom beside Heather, chatting casually.

"You guys should come to Hogsmeade with me for the next trip," Heather said as we arrived at the staircase leading up to the Fat Lady.

Phil and I delightfully agreed, and we said goodnight. I climbed up the stairs, imagining the Hogsmeade trip ahead of us. I pictured the three of us clinking butterbeer glasses and exploring Zonko's together, maybe even running into Fred and George Weasley. It had been a long time since I had seen them.

These pleasant memories and daydreams of the future followed me into my dreams as I fell sleep.