Mia Potter was the other Potter. Looking almost identical to her mother, she was a force to be reckoned with. But there was only one person who could reckon with her, and his name was Draco Malfoy.
In which the youngest Potter twin finds herself fa...
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The Great Hall, with its four long House tables and its staff table set at the top of the room, was decorated as usual with floating candles that made the plates below glitter and glow. Mia was sitting next to Ginny, opposite Hermione and Ron. The ginger boy was stuffing his face with sausages while Hermione had a look of anxiety on her face.
"Will. . . . you. . . . stop. . . . eating?" Hermione asked, slapping him with her book with every word she said. "Your best friend is missing!"
"Turn around you lunatic!"
The trio turned around and saw Harry walking towards them blood covering the lower half of his face.
"What the fuck has he done now?" Mia muttered as her brother made his way towards them.
"He's covered in blood again," Ginny said, "why is it he's always covered in blood?"
"Looks like it's his own this time," Ron said, goggling at him along with everyone else in the vicinity.
"Where have you been?" Hermione asked as Harry sat in between his sister and Ginny. "What happened to your face?"
"Nothing," said Harry, grabbing a spoon and squinting at his distorted reflection. "Blood."
"Come here," Hermione said. She raised her wand, said "Tergeo!" and siphoned off the dried blood.
"Thanks," said Harry, feeling his now clean face. "How's my nose looking?" Mia looked at her brother confused.
"Like it always does?" she asked, confused.
"Why shouldn't it?" Hermione asked anxiously. "Harry, what happened? We've been terrified!"
"I'll tell you later," said Harry curtly. He reached across Mia for a couple of chicken legs and a handful of chips, but before he could take them they vanished, to be replaced with puddings.
"You missed the Sorting, anyway," said Hermione, as Ron dived for a large chocolate gateau.
"Hat say anything interesting?" asked Harry, taking a piece of treacle tart.
"More of the same, really," Mia said, grabbing a piece of treacle tart, "advising us all to unite in the face of our enemies, and all that shit."
"Dumbledore mentioned Voldemort at all?"
"Not yet, but he always saves his proper speech for after the feast, doesn't he? It can't be long now."
Mia looked up at the staff table and grinned at Hagrid, who was waving at her and Harry. Hagrid had never quite managed to comport himself with the dignity of Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, the top of whose head came up somewhere between Hagrid's elbow and shoulder as they were sitting side by side, and who was looking disapprovingly at this enthusiastic greeting.
Mia was surprised to see the Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney, sitting on Hagrid's other side; she rarely left her tower room, and she had never seen her at the start-of-term feast before. She looked as odd as ever, glittering with beads and trailing shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size by her spectacles. Having always considered her a bit of a fraud, Mia had been shocked to discover at the end of the previous term that it had been she who had made the prediction that caused Lord Voldemort to kill Mia's parents and attack Mia and Harry themselves.
The knowledge had made her even less eager to find himself in her company, but thankfully, this year she would be dropping Divination. Her great beacon-like eyes swivelled in her direction; she hastily looked away toward the Slytherin table and her eyes landed on Draco. She furrowed her eyebrows when she saw him sitting there, not touching his food, sitting in silence and almost looking. . . . miserable?
"Mia," Hermione whispered, nudging the ginger. She looked away from Draco and up at Dumbledore. Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.
"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.
"What happened to his hand?" gasped Hermione.
She was not the only one who had noticed. Dumbledore's right hand was as blackened and dead-looking as it had been on the. night he had come to fetch Mia and Harry from the train station. Whispers swept the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.
"It was like that the day he got us," Mia said.
"It looks as if it's died," said Hermione, with a nauseated expression. "But there are some injuries you can't cure. . . . old curses. . . .and there are poisons without antidotes. . . ."
". . . .we are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn. . . ."
Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waistcoated belly casting the table below into shadow.
". . . .is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."
"Potions?"
"Potions?"
The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they had heard right.
"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"No!" said Mia and Harry, so loudly that many heads turned in their direction.
Snape, who was sitting on Dumbledore's right, did not stand up at the mention of his name; he merely raised a hand in lazy acknowledgment of the applause from the Slytherin table, yet Mia was sure she could detect a look of triumph on the features he loathed so much.
"Well, there's one good thing," she said savagely. "Snape'll be gone by the end of the year."
"What do you mean?" asked Ron.
"That job's jinxed," Mia said. "No one's lasted more than a year. . . . Quirrell actually died doing it. Personally, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed for another death. . . ."
"Mia!" said Hermione, shocked and reproachful.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. Mia, Harry, Ron, and Hermione werenot the only ones who had been talking; the whole Hall had erupted in a buzz of conversation at the news that Snape had finally achieved his heart's desire. Seemingly oblivious to the sensational nature ofthe news he had just imparted, Dumbledore said nothing more about staff appointments, but waited a few seconds to ensure that the silence was absolute before continuing.
"As you know, each and everyone of you was searched upon your arrival here tonight," Dumbledore said as Mia looked at him, "and you have the right to know why."
Mia and Harry looked at each other.
"Once, there was a young man who, like you, sat in this very hall, walked this castle's corridors, slept under its roof. He seemed to all the world a student like any other," Dumbledore went on. "His name? Tom Riddle."
The silence seemed to tauten and strain as Dumbledore spoke.
"Today of course he's known all over the world by another name. Which is why, as I stand looking out upon you tonight, I'm reminded of a sobering fact. Every day, every hour, this very minute perhaps, dark forces attempt to penetrate this castle's walls. But in the end their greatest weapon is you. But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"
