Content Harry Potter Miscellaneous
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Draco Malfoy turned his head and concentrated on listening to the voices floating out the bathroom door.  Information, that was the key.  Knowing everything you could, and knowing when to use it.  Potter was speaking. 

“...father’s name?  You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to...”

“No, it’s all right,” said the Freeman girl, sniffling.  “His name is Sirius Black.  And he never meant to hurt you—but you know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do, but how do you?” Potter sounded dumbfounded.  Not surprising, Draco thought—since when had Black not wanted to hurt Potter? 

“He came to visit us last summer.  Not for very long, just long enough to meet me and apologize to Mum.  He’s been writing me letters, though.  He talks about you all the time.  I almost feel like I know you already.”

A long pause.  “I never knew about you,” Potter said almost under his breath.  “He never told me anything about you.”

Draco’s surprise had been superseded by the need to remember this, remember everything.  Something in the story he knew, of the murderer Sirius Black who wanted Harry Potter dead, was incorrect.  Potter had obviously been in contact with Black, and sounded as if he expected to be told what went on in Black’s life.  And was there just a note of jealousy in Potter’s voice?

Might be able to make some trouble there.  Play them off each other. 

Draco snapped back into listening as Granger’s voice sounded from the bathroom.  “...didn’t want to worry you, Harry.  He thought you had enough to deal with, the Tournament and everything.  And when have you really had a chance to just talk with him?  Or even write normal letters?  I’m sure he wasn’t trying to hide anything from you.  He just never thought of it.”

“Yeah, well, funny how he thought of writing about me to her,” Potter said, and now his voice was definitely bitter.  “But never the other way around.  ‘Scuse me.”

The bathroom door crashed open, and Potter stalked out.  He glared at Draco.  Draco gave him a smugly superior smile but refrained from saying anything.  Better wait until Granger lets me up...

Potter’s glare intensified, and he spun on his heel and slammed through one of the other two doors.  “Wingardium Leviosa,” Draco heard from within, and a cast-iron bed preceded Potter back out the door.  “I’ll sleep out here,” the Gryffindor said, dumping the bed in the corner near the wardrobe.  “You can have the bedroom.  Stay in there all day if you like.”

“I’d love to, but I can’t go anywhere right now.”

Potter aimed his wand at the ropes. “Diffindo.

Draco hissed slightly as his robes were split up the sleeve.  “Learn to hit what you’re aiming at, Potty.”

“I did hit what I was aiming at, Malferret.”  Potter sat down on the bed, glaring.  “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Doubt it.”  Draco wanted to rub his wrists, but opted for flexing his fingers and shaking out his hands instead.  “Unless you’d like to duel?”

“Don’t make me take your wands away,” Granger shouted from the bathroom. 

Draco smirked.  “Come and try it, Mudblood.”

“No thank you.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You?  Hurt me?”  Draco laughed.  “You’re welcome to try.”

“Let me think now,” said Potter.  “Who was it slapped you across the face last year?”

“Ancient history.  Besides, that’s Muggle stuff.  I’d like to see her face me with a wand in her hand.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see that too.  Ron and I have a bet going, actually.  He thinks you’d only last through two spells.  I think you might hold out for three.”

“You have a higher opinion of me than Weasley, Potter?  I’m impressed.”

“Yeah, well, he’s never faced you in a duel, and I have.  I think you might be able to get one spell off before Hermione whips your arse.  Ron just thinks you’d get slaughtered.  Though I’m starting to think more like him now that I’ve actually seen you against her.”  Potter snickered.  “She took us both out pretty well, didn’t she?”

“I was distracted.  It wasn’t fair.”

“Since when have you ever cared about fair?”

Draco made a gesture he’d learned from Peeves and swept regally away into the bedroom Potter had taken the bed from.  Shutting the door behind him, he surveyed his kingdom.  Bed, two desks, two chairs, two bookshelves...

Small.  Small, and dreary. 

Good thing I’m not claustrophobic.  Wonder if any of them are?  He smiled.  That might be fun.  I’m used to being undergroundwell, so’s Freeman, but Potter and Granger sleep way up high in a tower.  Wonder which of them will crack first, without any windows or anything in here? 

Deep inside, so deep he could barely admit it, he was wondering if he, too, would crack after a few days in here.  He didn’t mind the Slytherin common room or dormitories, but only because they were roomy in and of themselves, and because he knew he’d be outside on a regular basis.  These rooms were, to put it bluntly, cramped, and they had no idea when they’d get out. 

But I’m strong.  I’m a Malfoy. I can face anything.

Especially if it means looking better than Potter or Granger.  Or both. 

He sat down on the bed and Summoned one of the books on the shelf across the room. 

Better than nothing. 

He opened it to the first page, then dropped it in disgust.  “Potter!” he shouted. 

“What?” floated in through the door. 

“You got the wrong room, idiot!  This one was for the girls!”

“How do you know?”

“Because I just picked up one of Granger’s books!”

Potter opened the door.  “Oops,” he said.  “Go get yours, then.  You know where they’ll be.  You can take Hermione’s over while you’re at it.”

“I’m not touching that again!  It’s got Mudblood slime on it!”

“Oh, come off it,” said an impatient voice, and Freeman nudged past Potter and climbed onto the chair below the other bookshelf.  “You’re just like all the stupid Muggle boys I used to go to school with.  Always talking about cooties.”  She started to pull the books efficiently down from the shelf and pile them on the desk at her knee level. 

“Do you want some help with that?” Potter offered. 

“Thanks.”  Freeman smiled at him.  “Do you want to take Hermione’s, though?”

“No, I can take my own,” said Granger from behind Potter.  “I put yours on your bed, Harry.  Move over.”

Potter stepped aside.  Draco looked askance at Granger as she came into the room, floating a pile of familiar-looking books in midair. 

“Here, these are yours,” she said, dumping them on Draco’s bed.  “And no, I didn’t touch any of them.”  She picked up the book from the floor, Summoned the rest from the shelf, and walked out of the room with dignity, followed by Potter with his arms full of books and Freeman carrying one or two extras.  She turned back to shut the door, and stuck out her tongue at Draco before she did.

“Glad that’s over,” Draco muttered, swinging his feet onto his bed.  He selected his Potions text and flipped to one of the chapters Snape had assigned an essay on for the summer, but his mind lingered for a moment on the book he’d dropped.

What kind of spell uses a chair made out of silver anyway?


“Hermione?  Can I call you that?”

“Of course.  What is it?”

Meghan pulled Hermione into the girls’ bedroom and shut the door.  “Is Harry really angry?” she asked anxiously. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Hermione said.  “Not with you.  But you’re here, so he’s aiming it at you, even though the person he’s actually angry with is Sirius.  He’s really your father?”

Meghan nodded.  “Mum would never tell me much about him, though,” she said.  “Just that I was the only good thing he’d ever done.  And sometimes, late at night, she’d tell me stories about funny things he would do in school, or just after it, when they were going out together.”  She looked at the floor.  “He never knew about me until last summer.  I always felt a little strange, knowing that he didn’t know.  Because I would wonder, if he had known, would he still have done all those terrible things?”

“But he didn’t.”

“I know, I know now, but I didn’t then...”  Meghan’s hands clenched on the bedspread.  “I get so angry when people talk about him now,” she said.  “Because I know he never did anything bad, not like that, and he didn’t deserve what happened to him, and it was horrible...”

“I know.”  Feeling awkward, Hermione opened her arms and embraced the younger girl.  “I know.” 

“I just wish I could make a difference,” Meghan said into Hermione’s shoulder.  “I want to help somebody.  I want to make a difference to somebody, because I couldn’t for my father.”

“That’s not your fault—did your mother even know about you when everything happened?”

“She had just found out.  She was going to tell him that same day.  If she had told him even a little bit earlier, maybe nothing would ever have happened...”

Hermione drew her wand and Summoned one of her books.  “Have you read these?” she asked, showing Meghan the cover. 

Meghan nodded. 

“Then you know.  No one ever finds out what would have happened.”

“I know.”  Meghan rubbed her eyes.  “I just... never mind.  Can I read that?”

“Do you want me to read to you?” Hermione offered tentatively.  She’s going to tell me she’s not a baby, that she can read for herself...

“Would you?  Really?”  Meghan’s eyes were bright with eagerness now.  “Please?”

“All right.”  Hermione climbed onto her bed and leaned her back against the wall.  “Chapter One.  This is the story of an adventure...”


Harry’d been reading the same paragraph in his Charms text for the last five minutes and still didn’t understand a word of it.  His brain was going in circles.

Why didn’t Sirius ever tell me?  Why didn’t he tell me he had a daughter?  Why did he tell her about me, but not me about her?  Doesn’t he trust me?  Doesn’t he think I’m important enough to tell things to? 

He flipped the book shut in disgust.  And now I’m stuck in here for God-only-knows-how-long, with Malfoy...

Hermione’s voice caught his ear.  She seemed to be reading something.  Quietly, he got up to listen. 

Oh, right.  I know what that is.  Probably because the Dursleys were so very against Harry ever seeing or hearing anything that wasn’t strictly real, he’d been fascinated by magic in books, and had read the Narnia books in the school library at least twice each. 

It’s not as if I have to do my work right away or anything.  Might as well listen. 

He leaned on the door.

Which swung inwards, dumping him on the floor. 

“Hello, Harry,” said Hermione as Meghan giggled.  “Would you like to listen too?”

Harry gave her a brief glare as he sat up.  “Yes, please.”

He pushed the door mostly shut with his foot after crawling out of the way. 


Draco looked up from his book.  Is it just me, or did it get very quiet in here? 

The only sound in the entire suite seemed to be somebody’s voice.  Granger’s voice.  It was speaking in slow, measured tones, as if reading aloud.

Probably lecturing out of one of the books.

He got up and peered through his keyhole.  Potter was nowhere to be seen.  Cautiously, he cracked his door open, then opened it all the way when he saw the main room empty.  He must be in with them. 

Granger’s voice was louder out here.  Draco stepped into the main room and sat down carefully on the chair he’d used earlier, listening.  It wasn’t a textbook at all; it was a story, a story about a boy and a talking horse.

Stupid, Draco thought scornfully.  Everyone knows horses don’t talk.  Only centaurs.  Maybe that’s what it’s actually about.  I should get back to that essay...

But he didn’t move.  Shasta and Bree met Aravis and Hwin, and Aravis told her story.  The four continued on their way together, and came to Tashbaan.  A strange man reached out and seized Shasta—Draco tensed, listening harder—

Granger yawned hugely.  “Oh, I can’t be tired already,” she said unhappily.  “What time is it?”

“It’s nearly eleven,” said Potter. 

“Drat, and I wanted to go over my Transfiguration notes one more time, because I had a question for Professor McGonagall and I wrote it down but now I can’t remember what it was, and I can’t look through all my notes for the year all at once...”

“I’ll go over them with you if you want,” Potter offered.  “It won’t take so long with two of us looking.  Do you mind, Meghan?  We shouldn’t be too long.  You can take a nap on my bed if you want, we’ll wake you when we’re done.”

“All right.  Thank you.”

Draco jumped up and ran for his room, just making it as the door of the other room opened. 

Damn it, I wanted to know what happened.  How is he going to get away?  Will he ever find them again? 

He peered through the hinges of his door, and was rewarded by seeing Freeman staring at the wardrobe as if she thought it contained a secret.  She took one step toward it, then another—

Then, with a rush, she was up and inside it, pulling the door closed behind her, but leaving it ajar –

And a second later, she tumbled out of it again, her eyes sparkling, her breath coming faster, and looking disbelieving and thoroughly happy.  “It is,” she whispered.  “It is, it is!” 

And before Draco could do anything, she had turned around and climbed back in again.

Well, that’s odd.  Draco emerged from his room, looked around, and crossed the main room quickly, opening the door of the wardrobe. 

Freeman was nowhere to be seen.

This is very odd.  Draco climbed into the wardrobe himself, taking out his wand as he did, and pulled the door shut behind him, until he felt it click shut.  He turned the handle to make sure it hadn’t locked, then started forward.  Even an enchanted wardrobe shouldn’t be more than a few feet deep. 

Except that this one was...


Meghan ran through the woods, wanting to shout and laugh with joy.  It was real, just as she had always known it was—she hadn’t been able to stay in the horrid little safe room for an instant longer than she had to, and she knew from her reading that no one would believe her if she tried to tell them about the wardrobe, so she had just come straight back—they would all get in eventually, she was sure, but she’d just had to come back and make sure it wasn’t a dream...

She passed the lamppost and turned left, blowing a kiss to it as she sped by.  A stream at the bottom of the hill, he’d said—a stream where willow trees grew...

“Oren!” she cried as she caught sight of water through the trees.  “Oren, I’m back!”

One of the willows lifted its head and turned to face her.  “So you are,” said a soft, whispery voice.  “All alone, or have you brought someone else with you?”

“I didn’t bring anyone, but someone may have come anyway.  I’m not sure.  I just wanted to see you again, right away, as soon as ever I could...”

“I’m flattered,” said the Dryad, smiling at her.  “But you know as well as I do, now, how things stand in Narnia.  Our Kings and Queens have only a few drops of human blood each.  They can hold the White Wizard at bay, but full-blooded Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve will be needed to defeat him.”

“Bring on your old White Wizard.”  Meghan drew her wand.  “I’m ready for him.”

“By the Lion and the Knife, I think you are,” said Oren, laughingly holding up his hands.  “Don’t hurt me, I beg of you, my Princess.  That would be an ill omen indeed, for a new Queen of Narnia to be burning her citizens down before she’s even been crowned...”

“But do you think we’ll be crowned right away?”  Meghan put her wand away and sat down on the streambank.  “The Pevensies had to do their fighting first, and then they were crowned afterwards.”

“Am I Aslan, that I’d know that?”  Oren came to stand beside her, trailing some of his leaves through the water.  “But you are right, the High King Peter and his siblings had to fight their war first.  To earn their crowns, you might say.  Perhaps you must do the same.”

“Yes, but there’s a problem.”  Meghan was pulling off her shoes and socks.  “There’s me, and there’s Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, they’re all right.  But the other boy is horrid.  He’s mean and nasty, and he’s been like that ever since I’ve known him, and everyone says he always was that way.”

“Ah, everyone says.”  Oren nodded his leafy head.  “And what, did you tell me, did everyone say about your father?”

Meghan felt her face heat.  “But this is true,” she said, wetting her hands in the stream and pressing them against her cheeks.  “I’ve seen it, I’ve heard him.  He doesn’t care about anyone but himself, and he likes making people look stupid and feel bad.  He’s done it to me.”

“I see.”  Oren stood for a moment and watched Meghan dangle her feet in the water.  “People change, my Princess,” he said finally.  “People alter their ways.  Especially in Narnia.”

“Not him,” Meghan said with certainty.  “Not Draco Malfoy.  He’ll never change.”


Draco stared around him.  He had several questions jostling for space in his mind.  For instance, What is a forest doing in a wardrobe? 

And then, there was What is a lamppost doing in a forest?

But the one that trumped them all was, Who is that standing beside the lamppost?  For he had a feeling he knew this tall, thin, dark-haired man, if only he could remember where he’d seen him before...

“A Daughter of Eve, my spy told me,” said a pleasant, cool voice.  “But a Son of Adam will do as well.  Tell me, Son of Adam, what is your name?”

“Draco.  Draco Malfoy.”

“And why, Draco Malfoy, do you wear a serpent upon your clothing?”

Draco glanced down at his Slytherin crest.  “It’s the mark of my House,” he said.  “We respect power, and those with the ability to get it and hold onto it.”

“Ahhh.”  It was a long, satisfied sigh.  “Just such a one I have hoped for these many years.  Come, Draco Malfoy.  You and I will talk, as one man to another.  For I plan to be the King of this land of Narnia, and you could be a great asset to me.”

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