2 Kids Who Are Not Harry Potter And The Sorcerer's Stone

The Disillusionment Charm

As it happened, he didn't see Hermione until the following Friday in Potions class. Snape was lecturing them that day on the five key differences between Shrinking and Swelling Solutions, meaning there was much less excitement than usual in the dungeon. In any other class this might have resulted in an epidemic of whispered mischief, but nobody dared try anything in Snape's class. Draco allowed the lecture to fade into the background. Slowly, so as not to draw attention to himself, he tore off a bit of parchment and scribbled: You left your book behind again. He folded the parchment and, concealing his wand under the table, made it flutter across the classroom and land gently in front of Hermione. As she looked up, startled, he caught her eye. She frowned with disapproval, but nonetheless opened the note and read. Draco returned his attention to the front of the classroom, and a moment later, the parchment was back. He grinned.

If you spent your time listening to Snape instead of writing notes, you might beat me in the next exam.

He stifled a laugh.

-I've read it and I'll be keeping it.

-Go ahead. I've got better things to do than read children's books.

-Where did you get it?

-My father. Why?

Draco tried, for a few moments, to imagine his own father reading this book--or any book, really--with him. The image made him feel profoundly strange, and he shook his head slightly to clear it.

Forget it, he scribbled, and turned his attention back to the front of the room.

                                                                                            ~~~

Draco was running slightly late for Defense Against the Dark Arts the following morning, but he wasn't particularly concerned. He'd never seen Quirrell punish anyone for anything, and would've been quite surprised to discover he was capable. He turned down the second-floor corridor, but as he passed the Charms classroom, something gave him pause. The door was slightly ajar, and Professor Flitwick's high-pitched voice carried out into the corridor. Careful to avoid being seen, he sneaked a peek inside. Ravenclaw fifth-years, or maybe sixth, by the look of them. It couldn't hurt to listen for a bit, he decided, and flattened himself against the wall next to the door, out of sight to anyone inside the room.

"Disillusionment Charms are one of the trickiest bits of magic you will find on your Ordinary Wizarding Levels," Professor Flitwick was saying. Fifth-years, then. "They will not render the target invisible, but rather force it to take on the color and texture of its surroundings."

"Like a chameleon, Sir?" said a girl's voice.

"Precisely, Miss Clearwater. Now, Mr. Filch would have me remind you that this is not to be used to go sneaking about the castle at night..."

Draco grinned to himself as dozens of uses for this spell sprang into his mind, sneaking about the castle unseen toward the top of the list. He listened impatiently as Flitwick warned the class that intense concentration was required or the disguise would flicker, appear blurred, or cease to work altogether. To his enormous frustration, however, Flitwick chose to demonstrate the spell rather than explain how to do it. That was all right, though; he'd just have to look it up.

Thrilled with this new information and the prospect of a real challenge later on, Draco slipped down the corridor and into Defense Against the Dark Arts class, now very late. He offered Quirrell a very thin excuse about Peeves, which the Professor accepted without question, and slipped into his seat.

"I've got to tell you something," he whispered to Blaise, as Quirrell began lecturing again.

"Like where the hell you've been?" Blaise hissed.