Chapter XI: The Hunt for Harry Potter

 Chapter XI: The Hunt for Harry Potter

For the next two weeks after surviving detention in the Forbidden Forest, Draca suffered from a recurring nightmare. She was walking alongside Potter, just like she had been in the forbidden forest, only her feet moved very slowly, and somehow the trees kept shifting and changing. 

She wanted to scream for help, until she realized they were actually inside her family home, and felt a profound sense of relief. Then she grabbed Potter and started to take the lead. But every door only led to more corridors and staircases that led deeper and deeper down, until all the light was gone. Then she saw the unicorn, which lay dying on the ground in a pool of its own blood. But no. It was Draca who was dying. She was drowning in her own blood. 

Potter was standing over her, leaning forward to sneer at her. She tried to choke out something, a curse, some final words, before a black cloak enveloped her.

With a scream, Draca snapped awake, and found she was lying face-down on her pillow, her bedsheets twisted tight around her legs. She choked, and twisted to sit up, kicking off her sheets. She must have been tossing and turning in her sleep.

But as Draca tried to recall the dream, she felt the images slipping away from her. “Just a stupid dream.” 

Gradually, the restless nights full of fitful dreams had taken their toll on Draca. She was working harder and harder every day, but getting less and less rest.

Final exams were next week. Apart from Potions, which was her strongest subject, Draca was beginning to fear that even if she studied constantly, she still might not be able to pass every subject. And even Snape was growing more critical of her work of late. When he’d reviewed her attempt at a Forgetfulness Potion, Snape’s only comment had been, “Natural talent is not a substitute for diligent study, Miss Malfoy.”

The only thing she had to look forward to was the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff after exams. But it was hard to get excited knowing full well that Hufflepuff had no chance against their current team.

Draca was tired, and bored, and overwhelmed, all at the same time. What was missing? 

And then, it struck her. She hadn’t even had a few spare minutes to gloat to Potter and his pals recently. But as Draca looked at the pile of unfinished homework she still had to do, and thought of what awaited her at home if she flunked out of Hogwarts in her first year, Draca knew that her revenge on Potter would have to wait until after she finished final exams.

***

History of Magic was the final of the final exams, and it was the worst of them all. Draca had a mediocre grasp of some of the key historical figures, thanks to all the names of great wizarding families which she’d memorized in her private tutoring sessions at home, ever since she was old enough to learn how to read.

As she shuffled out of Professor Binns’ classroom with the rest of the first years, and headed toward the grounds, Draca overheard a familiar, nagging voice. Granger was chattering about how well she’d done. “That was far easier than I thought it would be…I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager.”

Draca’s ear perked up. Sure enough, Granger was walking alongside Potter and Weasley. 

Keeping her distance, Draca followed them, careful to keep her gait unhurried and blend in with the crowd.

Her exams were finally over. The sun was shining. Birds were singing. It was a simply gorgeous, early summer day today. And what could make for a more perfect day, than to find a way to ruin it for Potter?

Draca noticed they were headed to the Hogwarts lake, and cursed her bad luck. Out in the open, it would be almost impossible to keep within earshot, without giving herself away.

Draca examined her robe, wishing that her house colors didn’t have to be incorporated into her uniform. They’d spot her vivid green skirt a mile away, and know a Slytherin was sneaking up on them.

Could she disguise herself? But what kind of disguise? 

Then, it hit her, and Draca Malfoy cackled with laughter.

***

Draca’s swimsuit was a bit old fashioned, but at least it was blue, not green. Examining her short, blond hair, Draca tucked it up into a swim cap, pouting at the sight of her large forehead. She always preferred to have short bangs in front to partially cover it up. Her mother kept trying to convince Draca to grow her bangs out long, so she’d look more like a young woman, but Draca had resisted the temptation thus far.

As Draca examined herself, she knew that she wouldn’t fool Potter and his friends if they bothered to make a close inspection, but if they only took a cursory glance, they’d likely assume she was a random Ravenclaw girl, heading out to the lake for a swim.

Quickly, Draca grabbed her towel and sprinted as fast as she could manage in her beach sandals.

At the lake, she spotted a group of older Gryffindor students. They were tickling the

tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. Then she recognized two of them as the Weasley twins, and kept her distance. Then, Draca spotted her quarry.

Potter, Weasley, and Granger were lying under a tree, basking in the sun. After taking a deep breath, Draca walked quickly past the tree. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Potter glance in her direction, but she didn’t look back. After she passed the tree, Draca risked taking a look behind her. Potter and his friends hadn’t moved, and now she was in their blind spot.

After pretending to lay out her towel away from the tree and have a seat, Draca waited, straining her ears to make out anything. From what she could tell, Granger was going on about exams again. Fuming, Draca turned, and started to crawl on her hands and knees, steadily getting closer to the tree. “That’s right, relax, Potter. You probably don’t have a care in the world today. It’s just you and your little friends. Go on and tell them what adventure you have planned for them next, and I’ll be ready to spoil it!”

Suddenly, an owl flew overhead, and Draca tensed. If they glanced behind the tree now, they’d see Draca easily!

At that moment, Potter leapt to his feet.

Draca could make out Weasley’s sleepy voice, calling out to Potter. "Where're you going?"

"I've just thought of something," said Potter. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

To Draca’s horror, Harry Potter burst out from behind the tree. His face was white with fear, but he was headed away from her, towards the castle grounds and Hagrid’s hut. 

Granger and Weasley stood and rushed after Potter. "Why?" panted Granger. 

But as the trio charged up the grassy slope, Draca couldn’t make out any more of what was said.

“Curses!” squeaked Draca. She started to run, then remembered she had forgotten her towel. But as she doubled back to grab her towel, she realized she didn’t need her towel, she needed to stay on Potter’s trail. But then she realized that if she didn’t have her towel, she’d look more suspicious. But then she realized that even if she did have her towel, she’d look suspicious anyway if she went charging across the castle grounds after Potter in her bathing suit. 

Draca snarled, and finally settled on grabbing the towel, whipping it around her waist and tying it up like a makeshift skirt.

As Draca approached Hagrid’s hut, she saw the trio gathered outside it, knocking on the big oaf’s front door. Draca cut sideways, trying to find cover in the trees at the edge of the forbidden forest. Now what? What had Potter realized? Was Hagrid raising another dragon in secret? 

Draca was panting. Approaching the hut from the front was no good. Her only hope… Draca glanced into the forbidden forest. Even on a clear, sunny day like today, it still seemed like a black void. What if that cloaked thing was haunting the edge of the forest, looking to grab an unwary student?

Draca slapped her cheeks. “Keep it together! You don’t have to go deep into the woods. Just far enough to approach the half-breed’s hut from behind.” 

Closing her eyes, Draca ran a wide circle through the woods, sprinting toward the back of the hut. She felt cold. Draca came to a halt slamming against the back of the hut. Shaking herself, Draca pressed her back to the wall and slunk along the edge of the hut, getting closer and closer to them. Potter was asking about something, his voice desperate. “...we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," answered the giant. "He wouldn' take his cloak off."

Draca stiffened. A stranger, wearing a cloak? Was that just a coincidence? 

There was a pause, before Hagrid went on talking. "It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head–that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn'

he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up.”

Draca heard something slump to the ground, before Potter’s voice answered, "What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up… Yeah... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here.... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after... so I told him... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon... an' then... I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks.... Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home.... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy..."

Draca narrowed her eyes. “Fluffy? What’s Fluffy?”

"And did he–did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Potter asked. Draca sensed that he was desperately trying to keep calm.

"Well–yeah–how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep–"

Hagrid faltered. "I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey–where're yeh goin'?"

But Potter, Weasley, and Granger were already charging toward the grand entrance of Hogwarts castle.

And then, Draca remembered something. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. Snape’s strange injuries and nightly patrols. All of the times Potter and his friends went sneaking around the castle after dark. Their little research sessions in the library, reading about ancient pure-blood wizards that had nothing to do with their regular homework. 

If Fluffy was a three-headed guard dog, it had to be guarding something in the third floor corridor, and Potter was trying to steal it!

“I have to tell Professor Snape!” squeaked Draca.

***

But by the time Draca got changed back into her school uniform and witch’s robes, she found Granger standing guard outside of the staff room. Draca kept hidden in a side corridor, whispering to herself. “They’re on to me! If Granger’s the lookout… does that mean Potter and Weasley are already infiltrating the third floor corridor?”

Then, there was the sound of a door opening, and a girl’s high-pitched scream. Draca peeked around the corner, and saw Professor Snape glaring at Granger. “Miss Granger, why are you loitering outside the staff room?”

“I–I wanted to speak to Professor Flitwick, to—to ask him about my exam.”

“Your exams are over, Miss Granger. It’s too late to do anything more at this point.”

“Well, yes, Professor Snape. It’s just that—I'm a bit worried—you see–I think I got question fourteen b wrong?”

There was a long, pregnant pause. Then Snape answered. “If it will keep you from falling into further hysterics, why don’t I simply ask Professor Flitwick if he is available to speak with you?”

Granger stammered, “Y-yes! Th-thank you, Professor!”

Snape closed the door. Draca sighed with relief. Once Granger was out of the way, she’d knock on the door, and explain everything to Snape.

Professor Flitwick emerged, and took Granger aside. “Come along, Miss Granger. We can discuss the results of your charms exam in my office.”

“Was it–Did I really do that bad, Professor Flitwick?”

“Oh, not to worry, Miss Granger. Let’s just say I want to hang it on the wall of the Ravenclaw common room.”

“What?”

“Come along, Miss Granger! I want to discuss the finer points of your written essay!”

Draca panicked as she saw them approaching her. She leaned against the wall and crossing her arms, trying to look like a student who was trying to look cool, without a care in the world.

Granger spotted Draca and glared at her with suspicion. But Professor Flitwick led Granger away, chattering as he went. Draca sighed with relief, and strolled toward the staff room. She had made it. Victory was hers!

At that precise moment, two tall boys intercepted Draca in the hall, hooking her by the elbows and frog-marching her backwards.

Draca squealed, her feet dragging in front of her as she was led away from the staff room. “What? Who do you think you are… you…” 

Draca glanced back and forth at her captors. She recognized them from the Quidditch match against Gryffindor. It was Fred and George Weasley! “Weasley? Weasley?”

“Malfoy? Malfoy?” said Fred and George Weasley, at the exact same time.

“Fred and I were enjoying a lovely day at the lake with our good friend, Lee Jordan, when we spotted something mighty peculiar, didn’t we, Fred?”

“Indeed, George. Imagine our surprise when we saw Draca Malfoy Malfoy trying to sneak up on our little brother, while wearing her bathing suit? A most unusual sight indeed, wouldn’t you agree, George?”

“That I do, Fred. And after some of the stories we’ve heard about you from the Gryffindor first years, Miss Malfoy Malfoy, I’m afraid that we’ve come to the unfortunate conclusion that you are very likely up to no good, isn’t that right, Fred?”

Fred winked at George. “Sadly so, George. In fact, I’d solemnly swear that she’s up to no good!  But you see, Miss Malfoy Malfoy, George and I take great pride in being the chief trouble-makers at Hogwarts, and we will not stand idly by as our legacy is challenged. Therefore, we have determined an appropriate course of action.”

Draca started wildly kicking her feet in front of her. “Unhand me at once! When my father hears of this, he’ll see that disgrace of a wizard you call a father sacked from his job at the ministry! You won’t be able to afford a pot to—”

Then, George held up a sock in front of Draca’s face. It was rolled up into a ball, and it had a distinct salty scent. Draca’s eyes went wide at the sign. “What? No! Don’t hurt me!”

But George quickly stuffed the sock inside her mouth. 

Fred followed up with a second smelly sock, which he wrapped tight around Draca’s face to hold the first sock firmly in place. “Now, now, Miss Malfoy Malfoy, there’s no need for threats. We have no intention of hurting you whatsoever. We’re only simple messengers. Aren’t we, George?”

George nodded, and stroked the base of a statue of a befuddled looking witch and wizard. Slowly, the statue moved aside, revealing a small cubby full of dusty cobwebs. “Indeed, Fred. And we simple messengers come bearing a simple message, addressed specifically to you, Miss Malfoy Malfoy.”

Then, Fred and George shoved Draca into the cubby, and leaned against either side of it. “Next year, lay off Neville Longbottom,” said both the twins at once.

Then, slowly, the statue moved back in place, trapping Draca inside the cubby.

***

Draca screamed until her voice went hoarse. Once, she felt a spider crawling across her shoulder, and thrashed around in terror, trying to shake it off. 

At first, the smell of the socks assaulted her nostrils, but after an hour she found she had finally grown nose-blind to it. She tried to count the seconds, but after what must have been two hours, she gave up.

Then, she thought of her whole year’s worth of misadventures. Somehow, the darkness and the quiet made it easier to picture her first year at Hogwarts. It felt like there was something very wrong about her situation. Something was missing.

And she knew the answer. Potter. 

She had never gotten proper revenge on Potter. Right now, she should be having some grand adventure. She imagined herself dramatically bursting into the third floor corridor, before blasting aside Potter’s friends and challenging him to a one-on-one duel, the kind of climactic confrontation that she deserved. She imagined beating him, and standing over his prone body, before reminding him of that fateful day on the Hogwarts Express, when she had offered him her hand in friendship, and he had spat on her kindness.

But then she remembered that she had already missed her chance for that kind of triumph. She had challenged Potter to a wizard’s duel, an affair of honor. Potter had accepted… and she had declined to meet him, face-to-face. 

She had told herself then that it was a cunning deception, worthy of Salazar Slytherin himself. But she also knew that she had lied about a matter of honor. 

And in her heart of hearts, Draca knew the real reason she had lied. Last year, she had still been too scared to fight Potter.

But now that she was finally ready to face him, to prove to him that she was his equal, fate had prevented her from fulfilling her mission.

She was trapped.

“Why… couldn’t you have just shook my hand?”

And Draca Malfoy wept.

***

When the statue moved aside, Draca blinked. The light seemed blinding at first, but as her eyes adjusted, Draca realized it was only dim candlelight. 

Two hands grabbed her roughly, “What have we here, my sweet?”

Draca kicked her foot up wildly. But it wasn’t Fred, nor George.

Draca ended up kicking Mr. Filch right between the legs. He roared, then stumbled backwards, groaning. 

Mrs. Norris meowed once, with what might have been sympathy.

Then, Filch struggled back onto his fet. “Agh! Those were my–you rotten little–oh, that does it! What house are you in?”

Quickly, Filch ungagged her. Draca spat, then stared in horror as Filch pressed his gnarled face close to hers. “Slytherin? Then it’s straight to the dungeons with you. Oh, how I miss the days when I was allowed to use the whips! Children learned respect then. Those were the good, old days.”

“But, I was attacked by—”

“Silence! I’m not in the mood after the night I’ve had.”

After Filch arrived at the dungeons, he knocked on the door of Snape’s private office. “Professor Snape! I caught one of yours, wandering the halls. It’s…”

Finally, Filch took a closer look at Draca. “It’s you, again? Ooh, gracious. How I wish I could be a fly on the wall to see what’s in store for you, Miss Malfoy.”

Slowly, Snape opened the door. “Filch, I do not have time for your ceaseless interrupt–”

“Professor Snape!” shouted Draca, “Potter and his friends are planning to break into the third floor corridor, tonight! They know how to get past Fluffy, the three-headed dog! They’re going to steal whatever it’s guarding! It’s a heist!”

Professor Snape sighed, then took Draca by the hand and led her into his office. “Draca, step into my office. Mister Filch, you may… begone.”

“But Professor, there’s no time! We have to stop Potter, before he–”

“Silence, Miss Malfoy!” roared Snape, with such force Draca pressed her lips tight shut.

Then, Snape continued, in a steady, bored tone of voice. “Your warning comes too late. Potter and his accomplices have already finished their assault on the third floor corridor. They bypassed all the protections put in place by the teachers, including a devious, poison trap of my own design, and discovered the secrets hidden therein. No doubt the entire school will be abuzz with gossip by morning.”

“But… but didn’t you stop them, Professor? You were already on to Potter, weren’t you? That’s why you spent so much time patrolling the halls.”

“Miss Malfoy, the last thing I want to hear tonight is the half-baked theories of a first year playing detective.”

Draca swallowed. “Yes, sir! Are you… going to cane me now, sir?”

“For what reason should I be caning you, Miss Malfoy?”

“Because… because you warned me not to play detective? Because I failed to stop Potter? Because… I was out of bed, after dark?”

Snape drummed his fingers, then he pulled some papers out of his desk, and shuffled them. “No, Miss Malfoy. I do not believe you deserve a caning, today. But his late after midnight, if I have to hear one more stupid question, I may well change my mind. You are dismissed.” 

Draca nodded, astonished by her good luck. “Yes, Professor.”

Snape held out the papers. “Here. The results of your Potions exam. Your work is acceptable by my standards, but you’ll have to work much harder on the theory aspect next year, assuming you ever want to achieve an O.W.L. in Potions.”

Draca clutched tight to her exam. It was riddled with corrections, written in blood-red ink. “Yes, Professor! Thank you, sir! I won’t let you–”

“Get out of my office, Miss Malfoy.”

Draca squeaked, and ran off, nodding.

***

Sure enough, the whole school was talking about the story by next morning. According to the Slytherin prefect, the famous Harry Potter and his friends had apparently murdered the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in the middle of the night, discovered the secret location of the Philosopher’s Stone, unlocked the power of eternal youth, and were currently busy turning lead into enough gold to fill the lake to the brim.

But Draca’s thin hope that Potter would finally be expelled was dashed as other rumors began to emerge. The prevailing theory amongst the Gryffindors was that You-Know-Who had been inside Hogwarts, and that Harry Potter had faced him alone, before Professor Dumbledore himself came to Potter’s rescue. 

According to this version of the events, the Boy Who Lived had faced the Dark Lord for a second time, and had lived for a second time.

But Potter hadn’t survived unscathed. Everyone agreed that, whatever else had happened, Potter was currently in the hospital wing, and had been lying unconscious for over a day.

Draca didn’t know what version of the story she believed in. 

But when she remembered the cloaked, hooded figure in the forbidden forest, and horrible, cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, Draca remembered something she hadn’t shared with anyone. Most adults believed that He-Who-Mus-Not-Be-Named was dead. But her father had always insisted that one day, for certain, the Dark Lord would rise again, even if a new wizard must take on that mighty role.

At one point, Draca walked all the way up to the hospital wing, planning to interrogate Potter herself. The same plan had worked well when she questioned Weasley about her injured arm. 

The moment Draca arrived at the right floor, trying to think of a good excuse, Madam Pomfrey burst out of the hospital wing, carrying a broken toilet seat. It was wrapped in a ribbon and bow with a large card that said, “Get Well Soon!” 

Draca ducked aside and let Madam Pomfrey pass her. “Disgusting!” growled Madam Pomfrey, to no one in particular. “Is this someone’s idea of a joke? It’s unsanitary! I will not have this filth cluttering up my wing!”

As Madam Pomfrey stomped away, Draca seized her chance to sneak in to find Potter. She opened the door a crack, and glimpsed Potter lying fast asleep in his bed. He was surrounded by Ronnie Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and the Weasley twins.

Quickly, Draca closed the door. She couldn’t get close to Potter. Not while he had his little gang of friends protecting him.

Draca felt something in her eye, and brushed it away.

“Just wait til next year, Potter. Next year, I’ll find a way to even the score.”

Draca slouched all the way back to the Slytherin common room. Her only consolation was the knowledge that, after Slytherin had smashed Hufflepuff on the Quidditch field, they had now definitively clinched the house cup.

Then, Draca ran face first into someone. She looked up, expecting to see Madam Pomfrey. But it was Professor Dumbledore. Draca’s mouth hung open. Despite what her father said, Professor Dumbledore had a certain presence that commanded respect. Instantly, she dropped the usual, bored, drawling voice that she liked to use. “Excuse me, Professor Dumbledore, sir.”

“Good morning, Miss Malfoy. Come to visit a sick friend?”

“No, sir. I don’t have any friends… in the hospital wing.”

“Really? That’s good news I suppose. I’m just on my way to visit Mr. Potter. Would you care to join me? If you’re eager to hear all the news of our school’s most strict and shameful secrets, I’d prefer to make the introductions myself, rather than have anyone accuse you of evesdropping.”

Draca shook her head. “No, sir. No eavesdropping! Just taking a stroll.”

Dumbledore gestured down the hall. “Then by all means, do not allow me to impede you, Miss Malfoy.”

Draca hustled down the hall. When she heard Dumbledore disappear into the hospital wing, she glanced back over shoulder, and whispered. “Get well soon, Potter.”

The End