"Now, can anyone tell me what this potion does?" Professor Slughorn asked the class. Harry and Ron had just awkwardly stumbled in and fought over which book to borrow. Ron took the new one, while Harry somehow got stuck with a tattered old book. Luckily, Slughorn accepted them into his class all the same. Currently they were all looking at a sweet-smelling silvery potion bubbling in a cauldron. As to be expected, Hermione's hand shot up in the air. Slughorn called on her, and she beamed.
"That is Felix Felicis, a luck potion. It gives the bearer good luck for a limited time."
"Perfect," Slughorn smiled. "Ten points to Gryffindor! And this, ladies and gents, will be the prize for whomever can brew the best Draught of Living Death by the end of the period. Off to your cauldrons, now, impress me!" His eyes gleamed with excitement as everyone bustled to their seats and started to slice up ingredients. One in particular, the Sopophorous bean, was bouncing everywhere as people tried cutting it. Harry opened his own book, dodging beans, and gazed at several little notes scribbled in small handwriting. The first of which read "This book belongs to the Half-Blood Prince". Harry repeated the name in his head. Half-Blood Prince? Perhaps a nickname that the previous owner used. Weird.
Nevertheless, Harry had to get started at some point on his potion, and flipped to the page indicated by Professor Slughorn. Similar to just about every other page, things were crossed out in the book and a note would take its place instead. Harry squinted to read the note, which stated "The Sopophorous bean should be crushed with a silver dagger, not cut, releases juices more efficiently." Harry considered the book for a moment, determining if it was wise to follow the scrawling of a student long gone. But curiosity gnawed at him, so Harry did as the Half-Blood Prince told. As he crushed the Sopophorous bean (trying to not let it bounce from under his blade), a puddle of juice spilled as the bean flattened onto the table. He added the juice into the concoction, and looked to see what the next set of instructions read.
Again, where it said "Stir seven times counterclockwise" in the book, another note read "clockwise once" right after. Daring to test the skill of the book again, Harry stirred his potion seven times anticlockwise, took a breath, and turned once clockwise. Before his eyes, Harry's potion changed into a shade of lilac. Amazed, Harry went through as much of the directions as he could (using the Prince's notes, of course) and when Professor Slughorn yelled "Stop!" his potion was the dark shade of death described in the book. Slughorn went around testing everyone's potions, and when he came to Harry's a smile spread across his face.
"Ahh," he said. Gently, he dropped a leaf into the venomous brew. It disintegrated into nothing upon touching the surface of the liquid.
"I think we have a winner here. I dare to say one drop could kill us all! Well done, Harry." Slughorn reached into his robe and handed Harry a small bottle of silvery liquid. "One bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised. Use it well." He dismissed the class then, Harry grinning proudly to himself, but he caught the eye of Hermione who seemed quite flustered and befuddled herself. Ron caught up to him, an amusing grin plastered onto his face. "How did you do that, mate?!" Harry averted his eyes from Hermione, and spoke with Ron instead.
"No idea." he said.
Later, Harry sat outside, his legs dangling off of a tree branch. He wasn't quite sure how he managed to get up there, but it was a nice way to get through the bit of homework he had been assigned that day. Charms, he told himself, an essay on how to properly conjure a Confundus Charm...
"Potter." An all too familiar voice beckoned. If the sinking feeling in his gut was right, he was in for a rough meeting.
"What is it?"
"Come down here, I want to talk."
"About what? Paralyzing me and smashing my face in? No, thank you." Harry heard shuffling below him, but kept his eyes glued to his paper.
"Harry-"
"Don't call me that anymore!" He snapped, his neck cracking from how fast his head turned to the blond boy below him. Malfoy's face turned to a sneer. "Why not? I can call you whatever I please!" he spat.
"Argh... What's with you?" Harry growled.
"I should ask you the same thing."
"What have I done to you?!"
"Forget it then, you wouldn't understand. Being 'The Boy Who Lived' must really be nice, huh? Tch, I wonder why I ever liked you in the first place." He spun on his heel and stomped away to the castle. Harry thought about going after him, but decided against it. All he would do was make more of a ruckus than necessary. He sighed, returning to his essay, which remained blank.
Now Harry sat in the Room of Requirement, twiddling his thumbs. The armchair was as comfortable as usual, but his body felt more like a rock than anything. The door creaked open, and Harry ceased moving, staring at the person who hastily closed the door.
"You're alone?" he asked the boy.
"Yes," Malfoy said, sitting in the chair adjacent to Harry. "I read the note you sent me. What's this all about?"827Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5JnsTrjxHy
Harry gulped. "Why do you hate me all of a sudden?" Malfoy said nothing for a while, leaving Harry in the dark. Harry clenched his fists tighter. Finally, he spoke up.
"This again?"
"Malfoy, please-"
"Don't bother using sympathy with me. It will get you nowhere. Besides, I have...new friends. I don't need you."
"Malfoy...what's going on? You know you can tell me-" Harry had gotten out of his chair by now, a worrisome look caressing his face. Malfoy jumped out of his chair and backed away from him. "No. This is something I have to do on my own, so...piss off." He gave one last look at Harry, and disappeared through the door and out into the castle. Harry smashed his fist into the wall, which didn't help him very much overall. He rubbed his hand, regretting the hit, lost in his own thoughts about Malfoy.
Harry walked the corridors of Hogwarts, feeling slightly down. Ever since his last meeting with Malfoy, he had given up on trying to talk some sense to him. At least, for a while. He started to keep track of him, though. Every night he would check the Marauder's map and find those same footprints residing in the Slytherin common room. Malfoy didn't ever do anything overly suspicious, but Harry kept an eye on him anyway. Things didn't seem to be going good in any way for Malfoy, and a mixture of worry and curiosity drove Harry to find out what he was up to.
But Harry had been elated when Dumbledore himself requested that he come to his office later that night to start their first private lesson. Tonight, Harry pushed his thoughts of Draco aside, traveled to the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office, spoke the password (Sherbert Lemon) and learned about things he thought he would never learn about Voldemort's past. As far back as when he was born, in fact. The sad story remained with Harry the rest of the night, and he fell asleep a little uneasily.
So, I know this chapter is mostly stuff that just happens in the book. But we gotta get that stuff out of the way, right? Right. And if you don't know about Voldemort's past, I encourage you to read the Harry Potter series. So in writing this fic, I'm assuming that most, if not all of you have read or seen the Harry Potter movies and/or books. So I'm not gonna go all into detail about that stuff, J.K Rowling does a better job than me. Shameless advertising. More Drarry in the next chapter, I think. Maybe. Honestly, I'm mostly making this up as I go.
