✔️ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎 → ℎ. 𝑝𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦

00 | S U R P R I S E

"where does it hurt?"

  everywhere.
         everywhere.
                 everywhere.

   "FIFTY POINTS FROM Gryffindor for lateness, I think", said Snape. "And, let me see, another twenty for your Muggle attire. You know, I don't believe any House has ever been in negative figures this early in the term. We haven't even started pudding. You might have set a record, Potter."

   The fury and hatred bubbling inside Harry seemed to blaze white-hot, but he would rather have been immobilized all the way back to London than tell Snape why he was late.

   "I suppose you wanted to make an entrance, did you?", Snape continued. "And with no flying car available you decided that bursting into the Great Hall halfway through the feast ought to create a dramatic effect."

   Still Harry remained silent, though he thought his chest might explode. He knew that Snape had come to fetch him for this, for the few minutes when he could needle and torment Harry without anyone else listening.

   "No cloak. You can walk in so that everyone sees you, which is what you wanted, I'm sure."

    Harry turned on the spot and marched straight through the open doors: anything to get away from Snape. 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. It was ail a shimmering blur to Harry, however, who walked so fast that he was passing the Hufflepuff table before people really started to stare, and by the time they were standing up to get a good look at him, he had spotted Ron and Hermione, sped along the benches toward them.

   "Harry —" said Hermione, her face vivid.

   "Not now, Hermione," Harry cut her off in a darkly significant voice. He hoped very much that they would all assume he had been involved in something heroic, preferably involving a couple of Death Eaters and a Dementor. Of course, Malfoy would spread the story as wide as he could, but there was always a chance it wouldn't reach too many Gryffindor ears.

   "But —"

   "Not now!"

   But below his rage and embarrassment, somewhere it tingled that something was wrong. Catching the concerned gazes of his fellow Gryffindors, Harry felt that this had nothing to do with the curiosity he came across during the train ride. Opening his mouth to apologize to Hermione and bid her to tell what she was about to, but that was when Dumbledore raised from his chair and started speaking.

   "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 Harry from the Dursleys. Whispers lit the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.

   "Nothing to worry about", he said airily. "Now ... to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you ..."

   "Harry, you really should know -", Hermione then whispered, taking the opportunity of Dumbledore's speech being interrupted by the impolite murmurs of the students around them. Her eyes fixating Harry, she sighed, as again she was forced to shut her mouth, when Dumbledore continued.

   "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 into shadow - "is a former colleague of mine who has agreed resume his old post of Potions master."

   "Potions?"

   "Potions?"

    The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered wheel they had heard right.

   "Potions?", said Ron and Hermione together, turning to stare Harry. "But you said -"

   "Professor Snape, meanwhile", said Dumbledore, raising voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

   "No!", said Harry, so loudly that many heads turned in his direction. He did not care; he was staring up at the staff table, incensed. How could Snape be given the Defense Against the Dark Arts job after all this time? Hadn't it been widely known for years that Dumbledore did not trust him to do it?

    "Well, there's one good thing", he said savagely. "Snape'll be gone by the end of the year."

   "What do you mean?", asked Ron.

    "That job's jinxed. No ones lasted more than a year. Quirrell actually died doing it. Personally, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed for another death ..."

   "Harry!", said Hermione, shocked and reproachful.

   "He might just go back to teaching Potions at the end of the year", said Ron reasonably. "That Slughorn bloke might not want to stay long-term. Moody didn't. Whatever ... Harry, you really need to -"

   With Dumbledore mentioning Voldemort, Ron shut his mouth. The headmaster was talking about the new set up security measures, but Harry barely listened. With every passing minute he felt more uncomfortable and couldn't wait for the feast to be over, so finally someone would tell him what was wrong. So when it finally was time to go to bed, he shifted in his seat, turning towards his friends.

   "What is it?", he sharply asked, and for a third time, Hermione opened her mouth, while Ron's eyes narrowed, fixing something right behind Harry's back.

   Harry turned around, and immediately felt like slapped straight across the face. Following Ron's glare, he spotted Malfoy, smirking as he was talking rapidly to the person to his left. It took Harry a blink, and a second gaze, and even after that he still felt like his eyes were betraying him. They didn't.

   Fingers intertwined with Malfoy's, she laughed to his words, throwing back her raven black hair, that had significantly grown during the summer, just like she herself had done. Black make-up around her hazel eyes had taken the last bit of the childlike appearance Harry knew. Spotting a scar over her right eyebrow, he remembered crimson blood spilling out of this very same wound only three months ago.

   Ember Potter didn't deign to look at her brother even for a second. Hazel brown eyes laying on Malfoy, she allowed him to wrap his arm around her shoulder and pull her closer, while she flung her own arm around his torso. Like that, they walked out of the Great Hall, leaving Harry with a feeling even worse than the sorrow he had felt for all those passed weeks.

—