𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥? 〚𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚏𝚘𝚢 〛

Chapitre 9

The next morning at breakfast, as I sat down at the Gryffindor table, I was attacked by a swarm of curious students.

"Is it true?" they demanded.

I sat down beside Luna, ignoring them, and started spreading butter on a piece of bread. Disappointed by the lack of response, most students left.

"You're on the Slytherin quidditch team?" asked Ginny, grinning from ear to ear.

I nodded, a few people choking on their drinks.

"That's rubbish," Ron squeaked. "They wouldn't let you!"

"Tell her that when she destroys you on the field!" yelled Urquhart from another table, causing the great hall to go silent.

I glared at him and he smiled apologetically. He seemed to do that a lot.

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Ginny. "Slytherins needed a feminine presence on the team, maybe you can straighten them out."

I pursed my lips, knowing the Slytherins were hated for their dirty tricks and cheating stunts.

"I already have my lion hat made," Luna pouted. "So I can't cheer for Slytherin. But if you score, I won't be sad."

Before I was forced to respond, the bell rang.

.................

Staring at the classroom before me, I quickly scanned the room, judging it best to sit by Urquhart, who grinned when he saw me approaching. The beater sitting beside him looked away, disgusted.

"Are you ready for nap time?"

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for a clarification.

"Professor Binns is a ghost," said the quidditch captain. "He just rambles on and on about history, doesn't even notice if we fall asleep."

"Doesn't he ask questions?" I wondered out loud.

Charles shook his head. "Never."

Professor Binns chose to make an entrance through the blackboard at the front of the class, which, in Charles' opinion, was the most interesting thing that had happened in years. Students sighed as he sat at his desk and began to speak in the most monotone voice I've ever heard. 

He was a balding man with white hair and skin so pale it was transparent. He was, as Charles had so blatantly said, a ghost. 

Speaking of the dark haired boy, he had laid his head down on the desk, abandoning his quill and parchment. I did not consider sleep an option and found that quills were much too complicated to jot down notes with. I wasn't fond of ink stains. 

Instead, I grabbed the black inked pen I always kept in my pocket and started writing down dates and facts about the giant wars, just as Binns was saying. By the end of class, my wrist was hurting and I had darkened a foot of parchment on both sides of the page. 

Binns looked up at the clock and floated to the top of his desk.

"Any questions?" he asked in a flat tone.

I bit my lip, knowing I had one, but dreading to ask in front of others. I kept my hands on my desk, telling myself I could search the library for my answer.

"Class dismissed," he muttered.

As he floated out of the classroom, I nudged Charles, waking him. At the same time, someone coughed, attracting my attention. Millicent Bulstrode shifted her weight from foot to foot, not looking me in the eyes.

"Yes?"

She cleared her throat once again. "I..um, I noticed that you were able to take notes?"

I gestured for her to get on with it.

"Can I borrow them?" she pleaded. "I need to pass this class, my parents would kill me if I didn't."

I did not answer, as if waiting for her to realize exactly what she was doing. The girl did not back down. She was truly desperate. I nodded sharply and she looked relieved.

"But, I expect something in return."

She froze and I smiled slightly.

"Don't look so scared. I heard teachers talking about a ball in December." The word struck her interest. "I will lend you my notes if you help me dress for the ball."

And just like that, I acquired her loyalty. It wouldn't take long for me to earn the respect of the entire Slytherin house. They never would expect me to use their own tricks against them.

"You're a clever one," mumbled Charles, waking up from his slumber.

I flinched, realising he had heard the entire conversation.

"If we win the match against Ravenclaw, I'm taking you to that ball," he said, as if it was obvious.

It did not sound like a question but surprisingly, I didn't mind.

...........................

As I walked through the halls, a week later, with my schedule in hand, I had the pleasant surprise to find out that I would not need to skip a class today. None of them required magic. 

My feeling of contentment amplified when I walked inside the dark classroom used for potions and was greeted by Hermione. I sat down by her side just as a chubby man got up to write on the board. 

Professor Slughorn. 

I held back a grimace. I didn't want to be noticed by him, but considering I was sitting next to Hermione, that would be nearly impossible.

"Last class, we brewed the drought of living death, congratulation Harry on the outstanding potion!" It seemed Harry Potter had already been labelled a personal favourite. "Could anyone tell me what the antidote to such a potion would be?"

No one raised their hand. I glanced sideways towards Hermione, but she was focused on having a silent argument with Harry.

"No? Even if I were to give twenty points for the answer?"

I reluctantly raised my hand.

"Ah, Miss Collins, is it? Would you like to give me the answer?"

"It would be the Wiggenweld potion, which can be brewed by finding the antidote to every poisonous ingredient of the drought of living death."

Slughorn looked impressed. "Twenty points to Slytherin! I won't even instruct you how to do it, since Miss Collins has done it for me. Five other points for Slytherin!"

Answering might not have been the worst idea after all. 

At the end of class, after having crushed, mixed and boiled, Hermione and I managed to brew a potion of the exact colour needed. So did Harry and Ron, to my great surprise.

"Harry has been using a book that has special information written in the margins," whispered Hermione, clearly frustrated. "He didn't do so well last year."

I glanced over my shoulder, finding only one other cauldron containing the antidote. Malfoy caught me staring and blinked quickly, a smirk appearing on his pale lips. 

I turned back to the front of the classroom, knowing I had seen his eyes glazed over. Something wasn't right with that boy.