Immortal Magic (Book 1)

Chapter Nine

Allison's Point of View.

We had officially been back at Hogwarts for over a week now, and Hermione and I were already drowning in homework. Between all of our extra classes, essays, readings, and practical work, we barely had time to breathe.

Not that either of us minded too much. Well, Hermione definitely didn't mind. I minded slightly.

On top of classes, we had also been spending time with the Cullens. Mostly me, though Harry, Ron, and Hermione had slowly grown closer to them as well. The Cullens tended to spend most of their time around the professors and us rather than the other students.

Right now, however, we were trapped in Double Potions with the Slytherins. Which meant misery. The dungeon classroom was silent except for the bubbling of cauldrons, and Snape's robes swished dramatically as he stalked between tables.

Everyone looked up when the classroom door suddenly opened. Draco Malfoy swaggered inside carrying a note. Without a word, he handed it to Professor Snape.

Snape skimmed over it briefly before nodding once. Malfoy smirked triumphantly before making his way toward Crabbe and Goyle.

Hermione and I simply continued working on our potion, though unfortunately, my hearing still picked up every irritating word around us.

"How is it, Draco?" Pansy Parkinson asked in her obnoxious voice. "Does it still hurt terribly?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Malfoy fake a dramatic grimace while winking at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Yeah," he sighed dramatically. I resisted the urge to gag. "Settle down," Snape drawled lazily from the front of the room. I noticed Harry and Ron immediately scowling.

We all knew perfectly well that if any Gryffindor had shown up late to class, Snape would have assigned detention before they even sat down. Today's potion was a Shrinking Solution. A potion none of us had brewed before.

As Hermione crushed ingredients beside me, I noticed Malfoy deliberately set up his cauldron beside Harry and Ron's workstation. "Sir," Malfoy called dramatically a few minutes later. "Sir, I'll need help cutting my daisy roots because of my arm."

Snape immediately looked toward Ron. "Weasley," he said coldly. "Assist Mr Malfoy." Ron looked absolutely furious as he reluctantly moved over. "There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed quietly.

"You heard Professor Snape," Malfoy smirked smugly. "Cut my roots." A second later, loud, aggressive chopping filled the room.

"Sir!" Malfoy whined instantly. "Weasley's mutilating my roots!" Snape swept over dramatically to inspect the ingredients. "Swap roots with Malfoy, Weasley." Ron opened his mouth to argue.

"Now." Grumbling furiously, Ron shoved his perfectly cut roots toward Malfoy and took the butchered ones instead.

"Sir," Malfoy said again moments later, "I need my Shrivelfig skinned." "Potter," Snape said immediately, "you may assist Mr Malfoy." My grip tightened dangerously around the knife in my hand.

Beside me, Hermione went rigid. "Allison," she whispered quickly, "calm down." I blinked. The room around us had started shaking. Very slightly.

Jars rattled softly on nearby shelves while the surface of our potion rippled unnaturally. No one else seemed to notice. They were too focused on their own cauldrons.

I took several slow breaths. Gradually, the shaking stopped. Hermione relaxed slightly. "Thank you," I whispered quietly.

She nodded subtly before returning to the potion. Unfortunately, Malfoy was still talking. "Father's complained to the school governors and the Ministry," he bragged loudly. "Who knows if my arm will ever fully recover?"