Living without Danger
Chapter 2: Letters to Everyone (Year 1)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 2: Letters to Everyone
The house looked serene and peaceful. Nothing about it suggested that it had been the hideout of a notorious criminal and his "family" for three years. However, if one drew closer, hints of current strife within might be noticeable.
"Sirius, if you mean you think I’m an idiot, then just say so instead of doing your little writer word-dance all around it!"
"I don’t think you’re an idiot, I just think you’re wrong!"
"You wanted my opinion, I gave it to you, and now you’re telling me I’m wrong?"
"The foreshadowing makes the story stronger, not weaker!"
"But you’re giving everything away!"
"Only if people can figure it out, and so far, no one who’s read it has!"
"And that’s who, you, me, and Letha, who we both know never tries to figure things out ahead of time because she likes to be surprised?"
"Would you rather I put in a deus ex machina ending?"
"You practically have. Where the heck does this sudden long-lost cousin come from?"
"I’ve been hinting at her the whole way through!"
"Without ever really giving anyone a chance to figure it out!"
"First I’m telling too much, now I’m not telling enough? Make up your mind here, Danger!"
"All right, I’ll make up my mind. It stinks. It’s terrible. I think you should set fire to it and try something else. Maybe something with a plot, this time!"
A crash, as if a chair had been knocked to the floor. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD I WORKED ON THIS?"
"OH, YOU MEAN YOU WORKED ON IT? IT SURE AS HELL DOESN’T READ LIKE YOU DID!"
"I’M NOT SITTING HERE AND PUTTING UP WITH THIS!"
"YOU’RE RIGHT, YOU’RE STANDING!"
"FINE! I’M NOT STANDING HERE AND PUTTING UP WITH THIS!"
"FINE!"
Two doors slammed below. From his vantage point at their bedroom window, Remus Lupin watched his fuming wife stomp out to her favorite sulking spot in the back yard of the Marauders’ Den.
He smiled. I even love her when she’s mad.
Particularly when she’s not mad at me.
A small sound in the doorway of the room where he stood made him look around. Aletha Freeman-Black was regarding him with a wry smile. "I take it you heard."
"I think the whole neighborhood heard. We’re lucky Danger didn’t actually set the thing on fire."
"Why? You could have put it out again."
"Yes, but not in time to save Sirius’ work. Which I’m sure is better than she thinks it is, but not quite as good as he’d like."
Aletha sighed. "I think we all miss the cubs."
Remus raised his eyebrows. "If this is what it’s like when they’ve only been gone for a few hours, heaven help us for the next few months."
"Oh, things’ll improve. I hope," she added under her breath.
"They had better," Remus said, looking out the window again. Danger’s bushy hair was just visible behind a tree, all the colors in the yard a touch brighter than usual in the light of the setting sun. "Where did Sirius go, do you know?"
"He’s probably in the living room. I should get to him before he starts destroying things."
"Want me to do it?"
"Oh, would you?" Aletha gave one of the smiles that tended to make one feel as if the room had just brightened. "Thank you — I’ll go talk to Danger, and don’t worry, I’ll stay out of biting range."
"That would be helpful — Meghan hardly needs to come back from the Weasleys’ to find her mother bleeding in the yard."
The Pack-siblings descended the stairs together. Aletha followed the hallway which paralleled the stairs, headed for the back yard, and Remus turned right and went into the living room.
As he had expected, Sirius was pacing around, somewhat red in the face and growling slightly at the sheaf of papers he held in his hand. Remus smiled to himself and instructed just one tiny corner of one sheet to burn.
Sirius stared as smoke curled up from under his hand. "What the—"
"You looked hot under the collar," Remus said, making Sirius jump and spin to face him.
"This isn’t my collar." Sirius pointed to his hand.
"Maybe not, but the phrase is still applicable."
"You heard, then."
"As I told Letha, I think the whole neighborhood heard. Neither you nor Danger tend to keep your emotions hidden." Remus regarded Sirius for a long moment. "Is there something wrong I should know about here, Padfoot?"
"No." Sirius tossed the papers onto a table and sighed. "No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just... let-down-ing, I guess. If that’s a word. The Den feels so empty without the cubs around."
Remus nodded. "Agreed."
Sirius ran a hand through his hair. "I keep expecting to see Harry come running down the stairs, or hear Draco practicing in his room, or find Hermione reading under the piano. With that, and what Danger said — I should apologize to her, I shouldn’t have yelled, she was just trying to help, but I hate criticism, even if it is constructive."
"I think that makes it worse in some ways," Remus said thoughtfully, "because you know you’re supposed to be grateful that the person cares enough to tell you what you’re doing wrong, but it still makes you feel terrible, and then you feel guilty for feeling terrible."
Sirius chuckled. "Sounds about right."
"Mr. Moony would like to submit that human beings are strange creatures."
"Mr. Padfoot would tend to agree with Mr. Moony, while adding that Marauders are even stranger."
"Mr. Moony would like to ask if Mr. Padfoot is implying that Marauders aren’t human."
"Mr. Padfoot would like to waive this question on the grounds that the truthful answer is likely to get his robes set on fire."
"Mr. Moony will permit such a waiver." Remus smiled wickedly. "This time."
xXxXx
Aletha smelled smoke as soon as she stepped out the door into the back yard. She walked very quietly back towards the tree where she knew Danger was sitting; as she got closer, she could see tiny flares of light coming from behind it.
She’s probably setting leaves on fire or something.
It was "or something," but not by much — dried grass was Danger’s fuel of choice at the moment. She was pulling up a handful of it, igniting it and watching it burn out in her palm, then pulling up another handful.
"Pretending it’s Sirius’ hair?" Aletha asked, timing it carefully so that Danger was between handfuls — she could easily see how loss of control over fire could be disastrous, even for a second.
Danger didn’t seem startled at all, looking up instead with a slightly tired-looking smile; she had probably heard Aletha coming. "More or less. More less every time. I shouldn’t have said that to him. The story doesn’t stink. It’s just... not ready yet. He needs to do another rewrite. I don’t know why I went off like that."
"You don’t? Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Aletha crossed her arms and regarded Danger skeptically.
"All right, no. I mean, I do know." Danger scowled at the ground in front of her. "You and Remus, you can always get the truth out of me. It’s the first of September and the cubs are gone, and even though we’ve been waiting for this for years, it’s just..."
Aletha sat down beside her friend. "Hard?" she offered.
"Yes!" Danger sniffled, once, then twice.
"Oh, don’t do that," Aletha said hurriedly, blinking hard. "Don’t, please, don’t start me off again..."
"I’m not," Danger said in a choked-up voice. "It’s just the smoke, it’s making my eyes water..."
"Liar."
"You got it."
And then there were two crying women in the back yard of the Den.
"I’m going to miss them so much," Aletha got out, her head on Danger’s shoulder. "I know they’re going to have a wonderful time, but I’m still going to miss them so much..."
"What are you complaining about?" Danger laughed weakly through her tears. "You’ve still got one..."
"She’s going to miss them too, you know." Aletha sniffed hard. "What are we going to do with her next year, when Ginny and Luna go away?"
"I’m sure we’ll find something," Danger said uncertainly. "We’ve got a whole year to think about it."
Unfortunately, that set them both off again.
xXxXx
Dinner was rather subdued that night. Everyone was trying not to look at the three empty places at the table. Meghan wasn’t eating, just poking at her food and moving it around on her plate.
The loud crack in the working portion of the kitchen made Aletha jump, Danger yelp, Meghan squeak, and Sirius swear. Remus almost cracked his neck, he whipped around so fast. "Dobby! Don’t do that!"
"Dobby is sorry, sir," the house-elf said apologetically, emerging from behind the counter so that everyone could see him. "But Professor Dumbledore sent Dobby to the Pack with a message, sir. The Pack’s cubs are all being Gryffindors."
Meghan clapped her hands happily and Sirius wiped his brow exaggeratedly, making everyone laugh. "I was afraid Cissy would come back and haunt me if Draco ended up a Slytherin after all," he said. "Or worse, Lily and James, if it had been Harry."
"Oh, come on," Danger said, chortling. "Harry Potter, Slytherin? Not in this universe."
"And the Wheezy is being a Gryffindor too," Dobby added.
"Thank you very much for the message, Dobby," Aletha said, smiling at the house-elf. "I feel much better now. And we’ll pass that along."
"You is welcome, ma’am." Dobby bowed to the Pack and disappeared with another loud crack.
"The Wheezy?" Sirius asked.
"I assume that means Ron," Aletha said. "Either that or the cubs have a new friend with asthma."
Everyone laughed. The tension in the Den was starting to run out.
The Pack would survive this planned separation, as they had survived everything before it. It was what made them Pack. They survived.
That didn’t mean they had to like it.
xXxXx
Dear everyone,
We’re all Gryffindors! Draco and Ron have the beds either side of me so we can talk at night, and Neville’s just one down from Ron. The other boys in our dorm are Dean Thomas (he’s a Muggleborn) and Seamus Finnegan (half-blood). They seem all right so far.
Dumbledore said something funny last night at the feast — there’s a corridor on the third floor that’s off-limits to everyone. We checked it out this morning and heard something alive inside. But it doesn’t show up on the Map, so it’s not a person. Do you know anything about it?
Thanks for the note in my things. It made me feel... good, I guess. But I’m probably going to be homesick soon. I remembered this morning that I’ve never been away from the Pack overnight before. Well, except for overnighters at the Burrow, and that’s different. I’m here for a couple months at least.
I’m going to stop writing now (before I cry) and give everyone else a chance.
Love from
Harry
Pretty much, what Harry said — thanks for the note, I’ll be homesick soon, and all that. I forgot my lucky socks, though, could you send them back with Hedwig? Meghan knows where they are.
We met a very strange boy on the train — well, met isn’t the right word — met again? He was the boy who was bothering me at Madam Malkin’s — it turns out his name is Theodore Nott, and he wanted to know if I was really raised by Muggleborns. Only that wasn’t the word he used. He seemed surprised when we got mad at him. Do pureblood families really say — the other thing — all the time?
Harry’s cousin’s a Slytherin. I’m kind of sorry for him — a Muggleborn in Slytherin — he’s probably not going to have any friends at all. Should we try to be nice to him?
People keep pointing and whispering. More at Harry than at me, I think, but since we’re right next to each other it’s hard to tell. I think I’m going to get tired of it before they do.
Please write back soon.
Love from
Draco
Moony, did you HAVE to put my nickname on that note? Lavender Brown got a hold of it and she and Parvati Patil were mewing at me all night. It’s them, me, and a kind of quiet girl named Colleen Lamb in the dorm — I thought five was the usual number, but maybe there are only four girls because there are six boys in our year.
We were all scared out of our minds while Draco was getting Sorted — the Hat took longer with him than with anyone, I think, but it might have been Harry, they were very close. Ron only took a couple seconds. I don’t know how long mine took, I was too busy trying not to faint.
We’ve just got our schedules — we don’t have Potions until Friday, but it’s a double period, and we have it with the Slytherins. Fred and George say Professor Grumpy (no, we didn’t call him that, they used his real name, but I don’t want to, and he’ll never see this) always favors his own house. Is there anything we should or shouldn’t do in his class?
I just realized my part of the letter’s longer than anyone else’s, so I’ll stop now. I love everyone, especially you, Pearl. Maybe you can come for an overnight visit sometime and sleep in my bed. It’s got big red velvet curtains all around it so we can shut the whole world out and tell secrets.
Much love from
Hermione
xXxXx
Dear Luna,
We’ve arrived safely and all been sorted into Gryffindor. We don’t have Professor Snape until Friday, but we have him for a double period then. I’m not looking forward to it.
I hope you’re well, and your father. Please give him my best.
Draco
xXxXx
Dear Ginny,
The train didn’t crash, the boats didn’t sink, and I got sorted into Gryffindor — and no, I won’t tell you how the Sorting happens. You’ll have to wait until next year. But don’t believe Fred, it doesn’t hurt. Harry and Draco and Hermione are all Gryffindors too.
We met this stringy-looking boy on the train who walked into our compartment and asked Draco straight out if it was true he’d been raised by Muggleborns. Only he was a bit ruder about it. I wanted to punch him on the nose — Harry actually pulled his wand on him. His name’s Nott, Theodore Nott — would you mind asking Dad if there was anyone named Nott who ran around with You-Know-Who?
The food’s wonderful, almost as good as Mum’s cooking. We haven’t had any classes yet, but we start right after breakfast. Hermione’s all excited — a bit annoying, really — but at least we’ve got her to shut up about memorizing the textbooks. Wish me luck.
Ron
xXxXx
Dear Father,
I am well, and have been Sorted into Slytherin house. However, I am somewhat worried about my continued well-being. I met three boys on the train who threatened me after I asked them a question. Is the term "Mudblood" considered rude in some circles? And is there any way I could be ensured of my safety while I am here?
Please convey my best wishes to Mother.
Theodore
xXxXx
Dear Mum,
I’m here and it’s scary. I had to try on a hat and it talked and said I was ambishous. Now I have to sleep in a dungeon and have a green snake on my robes and the other boys are rude. They call me mud blood. I don’t know what that means. But I still want to learn magic. Please write back soon.
Dudley
xXxXx
(in Danger’s handwriting)
Dear cubs,
We’re so proud of you. Gryffindor forever!
Harry, and all of you — please stay away from that corridor on the third floor. You three don’t need to go looking for trouble — trouble will probably come and find you. Do everyone a favor and don’t give it any invitations.
Watch out for the Nott boy — his father was a Death Eater back in the day, and probably one of the highest-ranked still out of Azkaban. Don’t make more enemies than you have to, though, so yes, be nice to Dudley if at all possible. And yes, Draco, purebloods do say — that — quite a lot of the time. They think it’s funny. (Your socks are enclosed.)
Hermione, you’re not even to use that name in writing. You would be amazed what Severus Snape can get his hands on. And he does not need any more reason to hate you than he already has. As for behavior in his class — don’t antagonize him. (Unless you absolutely must, in which case, do it with some style.)
Homesickness is normal, but remember, you have each other. And our love for you doesn’t change just because we’re apart. Study hard and learn well, and we’ll see you at Christmas if not before — it’s always possible we’ll decide to pop in for a flying visit. Meghan says to tell you that she already misses you a lot.
Oh yes, and stay out of the Forbidden Forest.
Love from
Danger
Moony
Padfoot
Letha
Pearl
P.S. I got a note from Tonks today — that’s our cousin Dora Tonks, Charlie Weasley’s lady-friend — which I’m enclosing. Let me know if she’s right.
Padfoot
xXxXx
Dear Neville,
I should probably tell you a little about myself, since we don’t know each other very well yet, so here goes. My full name’s Meghan Lily Black (I was partly named after Harry’s mum), and I was born on 1 June, 1983. I love dancing, music, and gardening, and I hate math and spelling.
When I grow up, I think I want to be a professional dancer. My Aunt Amy was one for a little while before she got her job at the bank. I’d have to go to a Muggle dance school for a while after I got out of Hogwarts, but it would be worth it.
What about you? What do you like and not like? And what do you want to be when you grow up? Please write back soon!
Meghan
xXxXx
Dear Ron,
Rub it in, why don’t you. I hope Hermione does better than you in everything and drives you mad.
Dad says Patroclus Nott was a Death Eater for sure, but he claimed he’d been under Imperius and got away with it. He says be careful and don’t hit anybody unless there aren’t any teachers looking.
I want to know all about everything. What are the classes like? What are you learning? What do you do for fun? Please write back soon.
Ginny
P.S. How are the others?
xXxXx
Dear Draco,
I’m glad to hear you were Sorted into Gryffindor. I hope Professor Snape is not too rude to you. I’ve enclosed a copy of some music I like. If you can learn your part, we can try it together when you’re home at Christmas. Meghan and Ginny and I are having a lot of fun together, but I still miss you.
Please write back soon.
Luna
xXxXx
Dear Theodore,
I hope you have befriended Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, your fellow Slytherin first years. If not, do so immediately. You will find them amenable. With them beside you, none will dare to challenge you.
Would you care to inform me of the names of those who threatened you, so that I may lodge complaints against them, or would you prefer this to remain secret? I shall abide by your will in this matter.
The term "Mudblood" is only considered rude by the uncultured.
With best wishes for a good term,
Father
xXxXx
As Harry had predicted, his homesickness started getting to him through the first week. He almost cried in Herbology, because their first lesson was about Muggle plants with magical properties, and quite a lot of the plants on the list Professor Sprout gave them grew in Letha’s garden at the Den. Ron had to joggle his elbow twice in Charms because he’d started thinking about what he’d be doing at home at this time of day. And Professor McGonagall’s Transfiguration demonstration snapped him back to the first time he’d ever seen her do magic — he’d been five and watching her from the shelter of Padfoot’s arms...
He’d been looking forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but when Professor Lockhart ostentatiously swept into the classroom and gave them an 80-question pretest all about himself, which took the better part of the class to complete, most of his hopes tumbled. The rest went when Lockhart informed them that he’d be taking most of their classes to let Professor Quirrell concentrate on the upper years, who needed to prepare for their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. His promise to bring something interesting for them to observe next class was met with barely stifled groans.
"Probably a picture of him," Dean Thomas said in annoyance as they left the classroom. "That’s all he’s interested in."
It did not escape Harry’s notice that Hermione alone out of all the class had scored a perfect on the pretest, but Defense was held on Thursday, which was the day his homesickness peaked, and he was too miserable even to want to tease her about it. She and Draco weren’t much better, though it didn’t help, of course, that all of them were having trouble sleeping.
"I think I hate Astronomy," said Harry wearily that evening, smothering a yawn behind his hand. On an ordinary occasion, he would have been thrilled to stay up until midnight, but the fun in it was diminished when he had to pay attention to Professor Sinistra’s lecture and try to figure out how to work his telescope at the same time.
"I think I hate Transfiguration," Draco answered, slumped in an armchair. "Not McGonagall, mind, just the class..."
Ron nodded, his head supported on his hand. "Did you see all that homework? We’ll be lucky to finish that by next weekend."
"Oh, stop being so melodramatic," said Hermione testily. "If you want to complain, wait until tomorrow."
"What’s tomorrow?" asked Ron.
"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Hermione promptly.
Ron groaned. "I forgot about that."
Harry sat up a little straighter. "Did we show him?" he asked Draco, who looked blank for a second, then brightened and shook his head. "Who’s got it?"
"I think I do." Hermione began digging through her bag. "No... no... ah, here it is." She pulled out a creased piece of parchment and handed it to Ron. "Read that," she instructed him.
Ron read, and his eyebrows went up several inches. "He does?"
"We’ll find out tomorrow," said Draco with a shadow of his usual grin.
xXxXx
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape said in the dungeon the next morning, pacing around the front of the classroom. "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..."
Snape gave the class a searching look. "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."
Hermione gave the boys a thumbs up. Word for word, she mouthed.
Ron coughed slightly, but Draco kept a firm hold on himself. He was not going to laugh in front of Snape, however tempting it was now that he knew (courtesy of his wonderful cousin Dora) that Snape used exactly the same speech with every year’s class.
"Potter!" Snape focused suddenly on Harry. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Draco groaned inwardly. Damn it, that sounds familiar, but I can’t think of it... and if I don’t know it, there’s no way Harry’s going to, he doesn’t like brewing potions...
Hermione’s hand was up like a rocket. Ron looked totally blank. Harry was keeping his face polite. "I don’t know, sir," he said.
Snape sneered. "Clearly fame isn’t everything. Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
I know this — Letha told us about these ages ago! Draco added his hand to Hermione’s, but Snape ignored them both — he seemed determined to make Harry look bad in front of the class.
"I don’t know, sir," Harry repeated.
The Slytherins were all laughing behind their hands — Draco frowned. No, not quite all. One boy, whose name Draco couldn’t recall, was watching the interchange intensely, with no trace of humor on his dark features. But Nott, Dursley, and Nott’s two enormous shadows Crabbe and Goyle were all convulsed with silent laughter, as were the Slytherin girls, who ranged from the hulking Millicent Bulstrode to a wispy-looking girl with a very proud face who Draco thought might be named Artemis Moon.
A thought shot across his mind before he could stop it.
I miss Luna...
"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Snape was saying as Draco brought his attention back to the front of the class.
Draco bit his lip. Come on, Harry, I know you know this one!
Harry’s eyes had never left Snape’s. "There is no difference, sir," he said quietly. "They’re two words for the same thing."
Draco and Hermione both lowered their hands and flashed each other the Marauder victory signal under the table.
"Correct," Snape said coldly. His eyes went to Draco and Hermione. "Five points from Gryffindor for disrespect to a teacher, Black, Granger-Lupin."
He can’t possibly have seen that...
"Raising your hand when the question is directed at another student is incorrect and will not be allowed."
Oh.
"For your information," Snape continued, returning his glare to Harry, "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. And monkshood and wolfsbane are the plant also known as aconite." He looked around the room. "Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?"
About thirty minutes of notes later, Snape instructed them to put away their parchment and take out their cauldrons. "The practical lesson for today is very simple," he said, waving his wand at the board, which was immediately covered with directions. "A potion to cure boils. Any supplies you do not have with you should be found in the stores cupboard." The door sprang open at another wave of his wand. "You will work in pairs. I shall allow you to choose your own partners today; however, if that ends in disaster, I shall hereafter assign you partners." Snape’s tone suggested he rather expected disaster to occur. "Follow the directions exactly. You have until the end of class. Begin."
Harry and Ron leaned back to Draco and Hermione. "Can we swap partners?" said Harry, glancing over his shoulder at the board. "You’re both good, and we’re both..."
"Not," Ron said frankly.
"Fine with me," said Hermione, picking up her bag and cauldron. "Draco?"
"Ronald Weasley, come on back," Draco said in his announcer voice, but quietly — Snape was on the other side of the classroom, but that could change at any moment.
Ron snorted slightly as he and Hermione swapped places. "Is that from some Muggle thing again?"
"You could say that. All right, let’s see what we have and what we need to get from the cupboard..."
"Just tell me what to do," said Ron. "And use small words."
Draco raised his eyebrows. "How come?"
"I’m hopeless at Potions. Mum tried to teach me a little a couple times, and I could never get anywhere."
Draco frowned, remembering a similar situation about a year ago with Meghan, when she had claimed she was hopeless at mathematics and would never get any better...
Maybe what worked then will work now.
"Ron, can you read?"
Ron looked at him oddly. "Of course I can read."
"Read the first line, then." Draco pointed at the board.
"Combine two ounces chopped dried nettles with three crushed snake fangs," Ron read aloud.
"Can you do that?"
"I can do that, but..."
"Not but. Just, can you do that?"
"Anyone could do that."
"Prove it."
Ron gave Draco a dirty look, then opened his bag. "Here, snake fangs," he said, pulling out a vial. "And mortar and pestle for crushing them. But I haven’t got nettles — so they should be in the cupboard..."
"I’ll get them," said Draco quickly, already moving before Ron could say anything.
He can’t be the ingredient hander forever, he needs to be able to do this on his own — sooner or later he’s going to get paired with a Slytherin or with Neville or somebody, and we won’t be able to help him — so he needs to know he can do this.
Draco returned with the nettles and a few other things he knew they’d need. Ron was crushing the snake fangs under Snape’s watchful eye.
"Finer," the Potions Master said critically. "They must be powder-fine if they are to combine correctly with the other ingredients, Weasley." His eyes moved to Draco and narrowed in distaste, but he said nothing, merely sweeping forward to criticize the way Hermione was handling her scale.
Ron and Draco moved forward through the potion, Draco having Ron read each line aloud, then do what it said. By the time their potion was actually boiling in the cauldron, Ron was smiling a little. "I’m not so bad," he said happily, pulling the cauldron off the fire with a magical potholder and adding the porcupine quills Draco had broken up.
"Just remember to take it one step at a time," Draco advised, when a shout rang out.
"Neville, no!"
Neville froze, his hand above Seamus’ bubbling cauldron.
Hermione ran from the stores cupboard to Neville’s side and guided his hand away from the cauldron. "Read the top line on the right half of the board," she said. "Carefully."
"Add seven porcupine quills, broken into half-inch lengths..." Neville read. "But I was doing that!"
Hermione shook her head. "Keep going."
"After..." Neville looked back at the cauldron and flushed. "Oh."
"Exactly." Hermione picked up Neville’s potholder and handed it to him. "After taking the cauldron off the fire."
"Well done, Miss Granger-Lupin," said Snape sarcastically, seeming to appear from nowhere. "Five points from Gryffindor for interfering with a fellow student’s work."
Hermione stared up at him. "But—"
Harry caught her eye and shook his head firmly.
"Return to your seat, Miss Granger-Lupin."
Draco wondered if it was his imagination that put such a sarcastic spin on the latter half of Hermione’s name.
It’s Snape... probably not.
"What do you think would’ve happened if Neville’d added the quills?" asked Ron, pouring out a measure of pine needles, as a furious-looking Hermione returned to her place beside Harry.
Draco stirred their potion, trying to remember. "I think... that would turn it into a boil inducer, and a really strong acid. It might even have melted through the cauldron..."
"Entirely correct, Black. Now less talk and more work, or shall I make it fifteen points from Gryffindor for this lesson?"
Ron concentrated on his pine needles and Draco on his stirring until Snape had stalked away. "How’d you know that?" Ron asked, barely moving his lips.
"Letha likes potions. She taught us some."
"Is that how Harry knew about monkshood and what’s-it-called?"
"Wolfsbane. Yeah." Surreptitiously, Draco crossed his fingers under the table.
There were some things it was better that Ron didn’t know.