Chapter 4 of Draco's First Year at Hogwarts :). I think I just added random things to fill in space too soooo that will be interesting. Some of the info might be wrong but I'm too lazy to proof-read it. Let's just hope years-ago-me got it right :))
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The Slytherin Common Room
They stood in front of a normal looking stone wall in the dungeon corridor.
“This fortnight’s password is Serpent-tongue,” Flint informed.
They nodded, watching the wall very closely.
“Who else is on the quidditch team?” Draco asked.
“Come off it, Malfoy, you won’t be on the team,” Theodore said.
Draco grunted. That would change one day.
Flint looked at the stone wall. “Serpent-tongue.”
A stone door in the wall which wasn’t visible till now slid open. The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them which was good because the atmosphere was cold, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs. There were tapestries which Draco presumed were previous Slytherins.
“Wow,” Goyle mumbled.
“What gives it the green lighting?” Blaise asked.
“It goes under the lake,” Marcus explained.
Some older Slytherins shoved past them and got comfortable in the Common Room.
Marcus showed them their dormitory where Draco, Nott, Goyle, Crabbe, and Blaise would be sleeping in. Theo dormitory was covered in Slytherin crests. There were silver lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The beds they were to sleep in were ancient four-posters with green silk hangings.
“This isn’t that bad,” Nott said as he dragged his hand on the silk hangings.
Crabbe and Goyle instantly called their own beds and jumped into it.
Flint laughed. “If you want to know the password for the fortnights, it’ll be pinned on the notice board in the common room.” He left the dormitory
Draco found his trunk had already been brought like the conductor said. He changed out of his robes into his pajamas.
“I suppose we should sleep?” Crabbe suggested.
Draco and Theodore sneered. “Not likely,” they said at the same time grinning
But it was too late, Crabbe was out cold, as was Goyle.
Blaise was just sitting on his bed. Scoffing at Crabbe and Goyle.
“Sorry about them,” Draco said. “They’re not very bright.”
Blaise just turned on his side and went to sleep.
“You don’t suppose we should…” Nott said, his voice trailing off.
“And here I thought you were like me, Nott,” he replied. “We can’t go to sleep yet. We need to know the right people to talk to.”
But Theodore just rolled his eyes. “I’m guessing Harry Potter and the Weasleys are off the list?”
“Most definitely Potter,” he sneered. “And that Mudblood Granger. We might as well just cross off all of Gryffindor. They accept Mudbloods and Blood Traitors.”
Nott yawned. “Can’t we do this tomorrow, Malfoy?”
Theodore laid down in his bed.
Draco guessed he was the only one really trying to make his father proud. If he didn’t, well he didn’t know what. Would his father make him punish himself as he made their house-elf Dobby do? He had seen Dobby put his ears in the oven door or bang his head against walls. Sometimes his father reminded him for extra beatings, and occasionally his father would beat Dobby, too.
Draco shuddered thinking about it. He actually cared about Dobby but he couldn’t let his father know. All he wanted was to be accepted by his father.
He let himself fall into a deep sleep.
“Malfoy, wake up!” Theodore shouted.
“Bloody hell! What do you want, Nott?” Draco snarled.
This wasn’t the first time Nott had woken him up, it was already Friday. Classes were easy for him since he already knew so much about the Wizarding World. Mudbloods and people like Potter would have to catch up.
So Draco, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise went to Potions after they got ready.
“Who do we have it with?” Blaise asked Nott.
“The…” Nott looked down to read. He let out a loud grunt. That couldn’t have been good. Hopefully not the Hufflepuffs. “Gryffindors.” Well, that was even worse.
“I heard Professor Snape favorites Slytherins,” Goyle mumbled quietly.
“Is that why Slytherin has won the house cup six years in a row?” Blaise scoffed. “We didn’t actually earn it? That’s rubbish, there’s no point in the cup then.” Blaise walked sulkily with them until they got to Potions.
Good thing because the classroom was in the dungeons too.
“Eughhh!” Draco said as he saw animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.
Right now would’ve been a good time to be at Durmstrang and not Hogwarts.
Snape, started the class by taking a roll call. He paused at Potter's name.
"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."
Draco and his friends sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black, they were cold and empty.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began.
He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. Mostly because the class was silent.
"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
Draco looked around the room. The Mudblood, Granger, was about to fall out of her seat.
"Potter!" snapped Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Potter glanced at the Blood Traitor, who looked just as stumped as well; Granger’s hand had shot into the air.
Draco sneered at Granger, he had to be top in his class not some Mudblood.
"I don't know, sir," said Harry.
Snape's lips curled into a sneer.
"Tut, tut- fame clearly isn't everything," Snape muttered.
Draco had to hold in his laughter so Snape wouldn’t turn his attention towards him.
"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”
Granger stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go, but Potter didn't look like he knew anything.
Draco and his friends were shaking with laughter. The other Slytherins were right about Snape favoring them.
“I don’t know, sir,” Potter replied meekly.
"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Professor Snape questioned.
"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
At this, the Mudblood stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.
Draco snorted.
"I don't know," said Potter quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"
Granger nodded in agreement.
Draco couldn’t hold in his laughter any longer; it suddenly burst out and the rest of the Slytherins couldn’t keep it in either.
Snape turned towards them and they fell silent.
"Sit down," he snapped at the Mudblood. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"
There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."
Draco scribbled it down quickly while sniggering. Goyle poked him ever so often, demanding to look at his parchment to copy down.
Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Draco, himself, whom he seemed to like.
Draco made a snarky face at Potter.
Snape was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Draco had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon.
The dorky boy, Longbottom had somehow managed to melt the Half-blood, Finnigan’s cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Longbottom, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.
"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"
Draco laughed once more as Longbottom whimpered.
"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Finnigan. Then he rounded on Potter and Weasley, who had been working next to Longbottom. "You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."
Draco didn’t care how unfair this was to the Gryffindors and everyone else, he was loving it. While Crabbe and Goyle, Snape had disliked.
After the school day had finished, Draco went back to the Slytherin common room with Crabbe and Goyle.
“Anyone want to play a round of Wizard’s Chess with me?” Draco challenged. He could easily beat anyone.
“I will,” a female voice said.
Draco turned around. It was Pansy Parkinson.
“All right, Pansy.”
They sat down at a table and the board was already ready. To put it short and to not waste time, Draco won with no problem at all. He did it within minutes. Pansy was upset afterwards but shook hands with him and that seemed to make things better for her, weirdly.
Once again the week passed by quickly. Over the weekend, Draco and Blaise noticed there were flying lessons on Thursday but it was with Gryffindor.
“I suppose I’ll do anything to get on a broom. Father had just bought me one but I wasn’t allowed to bring it,” Draco said.
“I’ve played quidditch, it’s fun enough, I might try out for the team in a few years,” Blaise replied.
Until then, Draco kept on boasting about it to every first year and occasionally Marcus Flint and the Slytherin Quidditch team.
Thursday came and at breakfast, Draco’s eagle owl came with a package of sweets. He opened it gloating to other Slytherins.
Draco got up and brought Crabbe and Goyle with him to the Gryffindor table. He spotted something in Longbottom’s hand. He snatched it, it was Remembrall.
Potter and Weasley stood up immediately. Before a fight could break out, Professor McGonagall came to them in a flash as if she apparated there, but it wasn’t possible to apparate on Hogwarts ground.
"What's going on?” she demanded.
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor," Longbottom tattled.
Scowling, Draco quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.
"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
“See there, Crabbe, Goyle? Gryffindor is nothing but a couple of snitches,” he snarled.
Around three, Theodore whispered to Draco, “The Gryffindors will be at the flying lesson around three-thirty, I heard them talking.”
“Then we’ll leave now,” he replied through gritted teeth. He beckoned Crabbe and Goyle.
When they arrived there were twenty broomsticks.
“These broomsticks are rubbish!” Blaise complained.
Draco looked down at them. They were nowhere near as good as what his father had bought him.
Nott was right, Potter and Weasley arrived at three-thirty with the other Gryffindors.
Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up. Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'Up!’”
"UP!” everyone shouted.
Many struggled to do it but Draco got it instantly. It flew up straight into his right hand.
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips.
She came over to Draco and watched him. “That’s not right, Mr. Malfoy.”
“What?” Draco growled. “I’ve been doing it this way for years!”
Madam Hooch shrugged. “Then you’ve been doing it wrong for years.”
Draco turned pink. He hesitated to talk back.
She went back in front of the class.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"
Longbottom had been so jumpy that he already bursted into the air.
“Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Longbottom was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet.
Draco saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and - WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Longbottom lay face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.
Draco, Nott, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle sniggered as Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.
“Broken wrist," she muttered. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get." She turned to the rest of the class.
“None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."
Longbottom hobbled off with Hooch.
Then, Draco burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"
The other Slytherins joined in.
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."
"Look!" said Draco, darting forward and snatching the Remembrall out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.
"Give that here, Malfoy," said Potter quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.
Draco smiled nastily.
"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?"
“Give it here,” Potter yelled, but Draco had already hopped onto his broom. This would teach Potter a lesson. He launched himself from the ground and Draco flew up high in the air, and called, “Come and get it, Potter!”
Potter grabbed his broom and Draco grinned. “No!” shouted Granger. He sighed, the Mudblood would not get in the way of his plan. "Madam Hooch told us not to move - you'll get us all into trouble."
Draco rolled his eyes. Potter kicked up into the air. He stared at Potter in disbelief.
“Give it here, or I’ll knock you off that broom!” Potter called.
Draco sneered, a bit anxious that Potter could fly so well. “Oh, yeah?” he said in a half sneer.
Potter flew at him and Draco narrowly dodged.
“No Crabbe and Goyle to save your neck, Malfoy.”
Draco felt anger rise up in his chest. “Catch it if you can, then!” he shouted. He threw the glass ball toward the ground.
To Draco’s surprise, he made a steep dive to the ground and reached out his hand and caught the Remembrall.
“Ugh!” Draco growled in disbelief.
Just when he thought his fun was done there was a loud booming voice: “HARRY POTTER!” It was McGonagall.
Potter trembled as he got off the broom.
Draco made his way to the ground subtly without Professor McGonagall noticing.
"Never- in all my time at Hogwarts-" Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "- how dare you - might have broken your neck-"
“It wasn't his fault, Professor-"
“Be quiet, Miss Patil
“But Malfoy-"
“That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."
Draco laughed. Potter had finally gotten what he deserved. Him and his friends triumphantly watched Potter follow Professor McGonagall.
“What’s your problem, Malfoy?” Weasley questioned.
Draco turned. He nodded his head towards Granger. “You and that filthy-“
But Finnigan interrupted Draco. “Don’t you dare say it!” he snarled.
Nott and Blaise laughed while Crabbe and Goyle stood behind him as backup.
“Say what? Mud-“
Once again he got interrupted. Madam Hooch had arrived again. “I’ll have to ask for you to go back to your common room. Madam Pomfrey wants no more injuries.” Her voice was bitter.
They went back to the dungeons. The downside was they couldn’t continue flying, but that didn’t matter. Potter was probably expelled or got detention for the rest of the year.
At dinner, Draco wasn’t prepared to see Potter happily telling students about how McGonagall had seemed to award him.
“Crabbe, Goyle, go listen to their conversation,” Draco ordered.
When they sat back down at the table, they were quiet.
“What happened?” Blaise demanded.
“Potter is the youngest quidditch player for Hogwarts in a century,” Crabbe mumbled. “And he’s the new Seeker.”
Draco turned very pink. “What?” he snarled. “In the century? He was supposed to be expelled!”
This was unfair, he was supposed to get punished but instead he had spent the afternoon with Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team learning about the sport.
“Well if I convince Flint to let me join the team, I would be Seeker as well and get the Snitch quicker than Potter could spot it!” he growled.
Draco got up hoping Crabbe and Goyle had just heard wrong. "Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Potter coolly.
Draco was smart enough to know they couldn’t get into a fight with Potter now or else that would land them both in detention. They simply just cracked their knuckles but Draco wouldn’t let them off so easily.
“I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Draco. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only - no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"
“Of course he has," said Weasley, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"
Draco looked at Crabbe and Goyle, pretending to compare them in his mind.
“Crabbe,” he answered. “Midnight all right? We’ll meet you in the trophy room; that’s always unlocked.”
Draco smirked and bounded back to the Slytherin’s table.
“What did you do now, Malfoy?” Theodore asked.
“Challenged Potter to a wizard’s duel,” Goyle said.
“Are you kidding? Potter’s the only one who’s survived the Killing Curse and vanquished the Dark Lord,” Blaise whispered.
Draco snorted. “When he was a baby, there’s no way he could take down the Dark Lord.”
“Yet he did,” Blaise argued.
He sneered. There was obviously no way of convincing Blaise.
“Hey, Blaise,” began Nott. “We’ve been meaning to ask you, were your parents Death Eaters?”
Blaise fell silent and just stared at them. He finally answered. “No, my mother has been married seven times. Each one has died. She hasn’t got time for all that.” He glanced at them. He stared at Draco. “Your father was Lucius Malfoy, he wasn’t under any Imperius Curse, was he?”
Fear striked in Draco's eyes. His father had trusted him, did he just let one of their darkest secrets slip?
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell. My mum and I are with the Dark Lord, he had the right idea,” Blaise muttered.
Relief flooded Draco. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied indignantly.
Blaise rolled his eyes. “What about you three?” He looked pointedly at Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle. They sat there silently.
“Then you must all have parents who work together.”
Blaise smirked as they all showed blank faces.
“Malfoy,” Theodore said, “shouldn’t you be preparing for your duel tonight?”
Draco snorted. “I know more than both Potter and Weasley combined. Besides, I’m not actually fighting a Half-blood and Blood Traitor.” That would be an absolute waste of time.
