Black Dawn Ch.18: Lessons in Magic (Patreon)

Morning sunlight poured through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, reflecting off the edges of Harry’s cutlery in bright, golden lances. The students slowly drifted in for breakfast, filling the room with the quiet clink of utensils and the occasional murmur of idle chatter.

“Good morning!” Tracey’s cheerful voice echoed in his ears as she slid into the seat across from him and Blaise, while Daphne followed, yawning behind her hand. “Who’s ready for a wonderful second day?”

Harry glanced around the table at the sleepy faces of most students. “I don’t think most are yet. The only reason I am fully awake is that my grandfather had me adjust my sleep time for the past couple of weeks. Up until then, this was the time I usually woke up, instead of being dressed and having breakfast.”

“Wish my mother had done that.” Blaise groaned into his tea. “I didn’t have any problem yesterday, really, but today I just want to head back to bed.”

Tracey giggled, pouring herself a cup of tea, and picked her food from the dishes laden with delicacies across her table.

“I don’t get how anyone can be cheerful so early in the morning,” Daphne muttered, giving a stink-eye to Tracey and stifling another yawn. “But I’ll admit, I’m looking forward to the first potions class today.”

“You say that for every class,” Blaise murmured. “What are you not excited for?”

Daphne scoffed. “I look forward to learning new magic, Zabini. We are being introduced to the most foundational branches of magic. Do you think Merlin grumbled when he was told that he was about to learn something new?”

Harry snorted while Blaise rolled his eyes, turning back to his food.

“I honestly liked Transfiguration and Herbology more than Charms,” Tracey chimed in with a wave of her fork, the grilled tomato dangling precariously over at its tips. “McGonagall at least let us try magic and Sprout had us plant all that dittany. Flitwick only lectured us for an hour and said that we won’t move on to actual spells until the next three weeks! Can you imagine?”

Harry shrugged. “I did enjoy his teaching, though. Yes, not doing spells is a bit disappointing, but it is only for a short while, isn’t it? After that, we’ll do magic in that class too. Dora says Flitwick is her favorite, so I doubt he’d be boring.” 

“Besides, Flitwick might not be wrong in saying that we need to spend time on theory,” Daphne added. “When I was learning spells at home by myself, it took me forever to get even one spell right. And I couldn’t do most of them until I read and understood the theory.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Not to forget, despite all I prepared, I still couldn’t do the transfiguration properly yesterday.” 

“You mean no one but Harry could do it,” Blaise said. “Most students’ matches didn’t change at all. Harry’s did, and yours at least turned to metal.”

“It wasn’t a needle,” Daphne muttered. “It didn’t change shape like it should have, which, admittedly, is a failure. But as it is said, the spire of success is built on bridges of failure and shaped by the learning gained from mistakes.”

Harry glanced at her in surprise. “Ulick Gamp.”

“Exactly,” Daphne smiled brightly, her cheeks dimpling. “The first words of the first minister.”

Tracey sighed and shook her head. “I would never get how either of you knew that off the top of your head. It's bonkers that both of you know a quote and who said it and when.” She waved her fork at Harry. “I thought it was only Daphne who was like that, but now it is you too.”

“It is a rather famous speech, Tracey.” Daphne rolled her eyes. “The quote is mentioned in practically every history book that discusses the Ministry or anything related to it.”

“And it is also on the chocolate frog card for the Ministry of Magic,” Harry said. “That’s where I know it from.” 

“Oh, by Merlin, why are we talking about classes and the boring stuff? We are going to be doing that all year anyway.” Blaise exclaimed. “We should be doing something incredible, say exploring the castle or going flying.”

Harry nodded eagerly. “I’d love to fly over these grounds on a broom before the weather takes a terrible turn in a month or so and it all becomes a gloomy, swampy patch.”

“We’re going to fly on Friday during our flying lessons, aren’t we?” Daphne asked. “So we can wait until then for that. Not to mention, we aren’t allowed brooms, so no flying outside of the class. And I don't want to waste time on detentions when I can be learning new things.”

Tracey shook her head instantly. “There’s no rule saying that we can’t fly on our own. While we can’t bring our own brooms, we can always borrow someone else’s, say, a senior student’s broom and go flying— if we know how to, that is. That way, no professor can punish us because we wouldn’t break any rules.”

Blaise’s eyes lit up. “Incredible. Let’s do that.”

“I know how to fly, and I know someone who does have a broom.” Harry smirked and looked around the table, spotting Dora.

Before he could call her, hundreds of owls fluttered into the Great Hall, their hoots drowning out the chatter of students. A white blur circled them, and Harry smiled, watching Hedwig drift down toward him, dropping an envelope alongside a package by his plate that rattled his food and nearly tipped his glass of juice. 

A moment later, she landed by the pot of tea and stared at him with expectant amber eyes.

“Thank you, Hedwig,” Harry said, picking up the envelope while Hedwig gave a hoot and hopped toward Blaise’s plate, stealing his bacon.

“Harry, your owl is stealing my food.” Blaise tried to shoo her away, but Hedwig pecked at his fingers, dragging his plate toward herself with her talons.

“Sorry mate, it is her food now.” Harry laughed, slipping the envelope into his robe’s inner pocket and picking up the small package. He squinted at the name, and a smirk curved on his face. “Oh, Nymphadora!” 

Dora’s head snapped toward him from across the Slytherin table, her hair and eyes turning a fiery crimson as she leaped out of her seat and stormed toward him. “What did you call me, brat?”

“Your name, the one that’s on this package.” Harry waved it in front of her, and she narrowed her eyes. In a flash, a spell leaped from her wand and stung Harry by the hip, causing him to hiss in pain. “Ow! Prefect violence! Professors!”

She put the wand away and snatched the packet from his hands, examining it. She raised a finger, and her nail grew in size, glinting with ivory-like sharpness. With a smooth slash, she tore through the paper and pulled out the book within, discarding the packing paper on Harry’s head.

“Hey!” Harry swatted the torn paper away, and she smirked. “Why is grandpa sending you a book? Did you happen to forget something, Nymphadora?” 

“Do you want to get hexed again, brat?” She asked. 

“One, I now know my own hexes, so don’t think I can’t fight back,” Harry said, watching her nail retreat into her finger.

Dora snorted. “Sure thing. I’d like to see you try.”

“Do you two always fight like this?” Blaise asked, interrupting them. “Angela and I fight, but not so much. And never physical. Our mother would kill us if we fought like you two.”

Dora grinned. “Oh, this is nothing. Harry once pushed me down two storeys of stairs, if you can believe it.”

“I did not! You stumbled on your own and blamed me because you could.” Harry huffed. “And your own mum believed me over you.”

“My mum would believe you on anything over me. I’m convinced she loves you more than me.”

“I am very lovable, so yes, of course, she does,” Harry said. “But you didn’t answer my question. Why is grandpa sending you a book?”

“I need it for extra credit,” she replied and took a seat beside Harry, stealing his toast in a flash before he could protest. “Snape has agreed to let me pursue a project in DADA. If I do well enough, I might take my DADA NEWT by the end of the year— the academic year. And if I do well on the exam, I can go on to get a HAWK— that’s Higher Academic Wizarding Knowledge, before I leave Hogwarts.” She bit into the toast and continued in a muffled voice. “I’m told it looks quite good for jobs.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Eat first and then speak, won’t you?”

“Who are you? My mother?” Dora scowled.

“Shouldn’t you be going to Professor Quirrel?” Daphne asked suddenly. “He is the defence professor, not Professor Snape.”

Dora gave a bark of laughter. “Q-Q-Quirrel? That stuttering idiot is no defence professor. He’s scared of his own bloody shadow. No, I’d rather take Snape as my evaluator. If he approves it and I score well on my NEWT, I can choose my own guide for my HAWK anyway. And they needn’t even be a Hogwarts professor, but just someone with a master's in the subject.” She waved the half-eaten bread. “And I am sure that my mum or Harry’s grandfather has friends who wouldn’t say no to being the guide.”

“I can get you the head of DMLE, if you want,” Harry told her. “Or, well, get her to talk someone into it. I’m sure that her department has a ton of people with mastery in DADA who can be your guide.”

She smiled and ruffled his hair. “Much appreciated but let me first be allowed to do it. Even if I’m allowed, I still need to score very well on my NEWTs. The guide comes after all of that. It isn’t easy, you know?”

Daphne raised an eyebrow. “How rare is it that someone gets to do that? Take your HAWKs while still at Hogwarts?”

“Rare but not as rare as you’d think,” Dora answered, taking another bite of her toast. “Commendations are a lot more common— most professors hand them out every year to the best student in their class, really. But an accelerated course or a straight-up HAWK is only given if you’re exceptional in that particular subject, which isn’t all that impossible. Tough, sure, but not impossible. I’d say there’s always a student or two who is like that every few years.”

“That seems great and everything,” Blaise said. “But boring. Why are we talking about studies and more studies? Did I mention that it’s boring? We’re going to be doing that for the next seven years anyway.”

Daphne ignored him. “What about getting more than one HAWK before you pass from Hogwarts?” She leaned forward. “As in for more than one subject? Say… three or four of them? Or more?”

Dora frowned. “I’ve never heard of anyone like that. You can get multiple commendations, yes, but I’m not so sure about multiple HAWKs. Someone might have done two or so at some point, but you’d have to ask one of the ‘claws or check the trophy room.”

Blaise perked up. “And we can finally explore then!”

“He’s right,” Dora agreed. “You all should explore the castle. It is rather gorgeous even on the inside. And all the random rooms and ways that you can find are even more fun. I swear there are rooms I’d have never known existed if I hadn’t stumbled into them by accident.”

“How?” Harry asked, and she shrugged. 

“The whole thing was behind a part of a painting which acted like a door. It hid a room full of statues, for some reason.” Dora waved the half-eaten toast. “Hogwarts has scores of secret rooms and passages like that, some of which are said to even lead outside, to Hogsmeade.”

Blaise’s eyes went wide. “Let’s find all these secret rooms, I say. It’d be fun!”

“Well,” Harry said, glancing at Tracey and Daphne. “I agree. After classes today, we can start. And who knows? Maybe we’ll find something that no one has before.”

Blaise’s lips stretched into a wide grin, and he raised his glass of juice. “Hear, hear.”

The flickering torchlight of the dungeons cast long shadows as Harry made his way down the stairs, eyeing the tapestries and suits of armor that lined the walls. The air seemed cooler than the rest of the castle, breezing through the narrow corridor like an autumn gale.

Harry moved as a pair of ghosts floated past them, both looking at him over their shoulders and waving before they vanished through the wall.

“Is it me, or does it already seem like a Halloween haunted house here?” Tracey whispered. “Even our common room is in the dungeons, but it is nowhere near as dark and gloomy as it is here.”

“No, this is how it should be,” Daphne said. “The potency of many potions and a handful of ingredients varies with a change in temperature or light. If this were somewhere else, the variance in both would be much greater throughout the day, which would be terrible. My family has a huge underground space just to maintain the ingredient quality.” 

Harry tilted his head. “I didn’t know your family was into the potions business too.” 

“Well, we don’t make potions, but we do transport potions and potion ingredients to and from all kinds of places,” she explained. “So, my family has a fair knowledge about potioneering.”

“Interesting,” Harry hummed as they turned down the corridor, and his ears caught the faint chatter of noise.

They followed the prefect, who pushed open the door at the very end of the corridor.  

“There you go,” the prefect said. “The Potions classroom. It should be fairly easy for you all as Slytherins. Not very far from our common room, if you know the way. Now, go on in. Professor Snape’s a stickler for time.”

The first year Slytherins streamed in, and Harry glanced around to see that many of the Gryffindors were already present. The girl from the train caught his eye and gave him a smile and a wave, which he returned.

Tracey tapped his arm. 

“You should sit away from Malfoy,” she whispered in his ear. “I heard him talking with Parkinson about embarrassing you like you did to him. And I’m pretty sure he has something in his pockets. His hand kept drifting to it the whole way here.”

Harry glanced at Malfoy and caught him staring, causing the blonde boy to look away quickly. “Is that so?”

“He was bragging about how Snape is his godfather and would never punish him even if he was caught,” Tracey added hurriedly. “So, you should be safe rather than sorry and stay out of Malfoy’s reach.”

“I see,” Harry said, taking considerable effort to avoid glaring at Malfoy as he took an empty potion station out of Malfoy’s reach, which was tough because the boy had taken a spot in the very center. “Thank you, Tracey.”

Tracey gave him a small smile and shuffled back to stand beside Daphne.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at him. “What was that about?”

“Oh, nothing important,” Harry said. “Just the fact that Malfoy doesn’t seem to like me.”

“You probably have enough admirers to compensate.” Blaise snorted. “I’m pretty sure I saw ghosts whispering about you when you passed by them. Why do you care about Malfoy?”

“I don’t. Not really. But the fact is that we’re in the same house for the next seven years, so one way or the other, I'll have to be around him.” Harry’s eyes darted toward Malfoy, who was whispering something to Pansy Parkinson. “And he can be a pain to me even outside the castle because of who his father is and the money he can throw around.”

Blaise’s forehead creased. “I thought you were plenty rich, too.”

“Oh, I am richer than Malfoy, but that doesn’t mean Malfoy’s poor,” Harry said, watching as Neville stumbled into the room with a redhead boy, and Malfoy whispered something to Pansy, which had her bursting into a high laugh. “And his grandfather and mine hate each other. Which is why my grandfather told me all about them the very moment he came to know that Draco was going to be in my year.”

“Do tell.”

“The influence that the Malfoy family has stems from the mad amount of galleons they throw around,” he replied. “While they aren’t the richest family in Britain, they have the most galleons, which is also their influence and leverage. My grandfather said that most old families keep their money in things or properties, while the Malfoys keep most of their fortune in galleons. All they have is a single manor, which they live in, unlike other rich families of Britain.”

Blaise nodded. “You’d have to sell something of value to get that kind of money, which isn’t easy nor preferable, while Malfoy is Galleon-rich, so he has no problem out-bidding you wherever he wants and can be a pain.” 

“Precisely. My grandfather says that he has lost a lot of good opportunities and ventures because of Arbaxas— Draco’s grandfather. I’d like to avoid that.”

“Bad business and all,” Blaise said. “I get it.”

Harry inclined his head. “I suppose you would know a fair bit about people like that because of your mother.” 

Blaise’s lips curled into a grin. “Did you look me up, Potter?”

“I mentioned you in my letter home, and my grandfather mentioned that he knows of your family and of your mother. He said that he’s met her before.”

“Must have.” Blaise shrugged. “My mother runs in high circles all over the world, as does the Zabini family. And she’s more than familiar with everything and everyone in Britain. She’s surprised that she hasn’t met you yet, with you being you and a ward of the Black Family.”

Before Harry could answer, the door banged open, causing many to jump. Snape strode into the room, his black cloak billowing behind him as his eyes swept across the tables. With a flick of his wand, the doors closed with a thud, and the register on his desk fluttered open, and he began with the roll call.

He paused on reaching Harry’s name, and his dark, cold eyes met Harry’s. His eyes flicked to Harry’s robes for a moment, and he continued ahead.

“I suppose everyone’s here.” Snape shut the register with a snap that echoed through the room. “Welcome to your very first lesson on potions. You all are here to learn the subtle and exact art of potion-making. As there is very little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect any of 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.” 

He spoke in a whisper, yet every student seemed to hang onto every word, some shifting uncomfortably. Snape’s eyes seemed to stare like a hawk at every one of them.

“I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death,” he continued. “If you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.” He whirled around. “Potter!”

Harry nearly jumped. 

“What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” Snape’s question rang through the room and burned in Harry’s ears. 

Across the class, Hermione Granger’s hand shot up while Harry felt his mouth go dry. “I’m afraid I don’t know, professor.”

Snape’s lips curled into a sneer. “Tut, tut. Clearly, fame isn’t everything, is it?” Malfoy and his friends sniggered. “Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Harry nearly smiled. “The stomach of a goat, sir.”

“That’s… correct. Perhaps you aren’t an absolutely hopeless case, Potter. Take a point.” Snape sneered. “Longbottom!” The boy jumped, his ladle clattering to the floor, its noise ringing through the room. “What’s the difference between monkswood and wolfsbane?”

“T-t-they a-are—”

“Quit stuttering, if you don’t know the answer, Longbottom.”

“T-they are t-the same plant, s-sir,” Neville replied.

Silence spread through the class as Snape’s eyes bore into the boy. “I see. You forgot to mention they both also go by the name of acotine, Longbottom. As for you, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. Why aren’t you all writing this down?”

The sound of rummaging bags and the scratch of quills instantly filled the room, and Snape scowled. “Once you all do write it down, you must pair up with another student. And henceforth, I expect you all to be prepared before class with your cauldrons and parchments and quills.”

He turned toward the board, his robes billowing behind him.

Harry nudged Blaise. “I’m going to go pair up with Malfoy and straighten him out a bit, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. Tell me all about it later, though.”

Harry gave him a small grin and picked up his bag, quietly moving across the tables to where Malfoy stood. The blonde boy raised an eyebrow as Harry approached.

“Thought that since I couldn’t pair up with you for rooms, I’d pair up with you for potions, Malfoy.” Harry pulled up a stool next to him, giving him the friendliest smile he could muster. 

Malfoy seemed to hesitate and looked around as his friends stared between him and Harry. “Of course. Pansy can pair up with someone else.”

The girl in question glared at Harry and then moved. 

“Wonderful,” Harry said. “How do you do, Draco?”

“Quit the act, Potter,” Malfoy hissed. “Yesterday, you wanted nothing to do with me, and today you’re kissing up to me in front of everyone. What are you playing at?”

“I am not kissing your arse, Malfoy. I’m doing you a favor,” Harry said, placing his cauldron onto their table. “I’m prepared to give you another chance to do what you were trying yesterday, just in a better way, this time, hopefully. Not to mention, our dearest professor here didn’t really like my father, while you are his godson. So, if you are my partner, I’m sure I’ll benefit enough to make it worth my while.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “How is this different from what you accused me of yesterday? You said I was using your fame, and you, now, are using my relationship with my godfather.”

“I am being man enough to say it to your face instead of hiding behind pretenses, as you did,” Harry answered, and Malfoy’s eye twitched. “Also, this way, you won’t come after me here, because it’d mean sabotaging yourself.” Malfoy’s face paled. “Yes, I know about your little scheme to try and get back to me.” 

“So you aren’t here to make good or be friends?” He asked in a low voice.

“No, I’m giving you a chance, Draco. We are family, after all, however estranged we might be.” Harry whispered. “Our grandfathers may have some bad blood, but that needn’t be the case for us.” 

At the front of the class, Snape turned around. “I hope you have sorted yourself into pairs. Today, you all shall be creating a cure for boils. The instructions have been written on the board, and you may begin.”

The class scrambled to get to work, and Harry turned to look at Malfoy. “As I see it, you are not your father or your grandfather. You can be your own man with your own friends. And I’m doing you the favor of giving you a chance to do that with this.”

Malfoy scowled. “And you’re scared of me.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, right. I, Harry Potter, hero of the wizarding world, the boy-who-lived, heir to the Black and Potter families, am scared of you. Don’t make me laugh, Malfoy. All you have is a little money. Money, I may add, far less than my own. I’m not saying you don’t have your uses, but if you go up against me, you’d lose nine times out of ten. And that’s me being generous.”

“Which absolutely explains the reason you came and partnered up with me.” Malfoy snarked, pouring water into the cauldron and lighting a fire under it.

“I said you have your uses. And we have to spend the next seven years together at minimum, so being in constant conflict with each other will be a pain for both of us and a waste of my time, which I’d like to avoid.” Harry replied, pulling out a mortar and pestle and keeping his voice low to avoid Snape’s attention. “So, you can either take this favor and treat it as an opportunity to be on decent terms with me. Or you can ignore it and choose to be on terrible terms, which is something that is probably not going to end in your favor anytime soon.”

Malfoy’s jaw twitched. “That sounds like a threat.”

“It is if you want it to be. The quaffle is in your hands now. You can either drop it or score with it; the choice is yours. But remember what happens if you try to play me, Malfoy.” Harry’s lips curved into a sharp smile. “Now, be helpful and cut those horned slugs for my potion. I would hate it terribly if we were to fail to create a simple potion because of you. Chop, chop, Malfoy.”

AND… DONE! Hope you all liked the chapter!

So, yes, we’ve now met Snape. I originally intended to skip past it more or less and have the whole Draco-Harry talk in the Flying Lessons. But then I tweaked it to a more private confrontation than one against and around Gryffindors.

As for Malfoy v/s Black Fortune, Black is far bigger. By a decent multiple, in fact. But many old families like the Blacks are asset-rich. As in, they have vast properties and expensive things. They aren’t very liquid, as in have cash in hand— to a normal person, even that cash is a lot of money, but Malfoys have way more of their net worth in cash, basically. To put forth an example, if Harry wants to buy something worth, say, a million galleons, he’d have to sell a house or something, while Lucius would just need to cut a cheque… so to speak.

And selling a house at a fair price, on short notice, and getting the money into your account isn’t easy at all, which is why Malfoy stands at an advantage by being Galleon-rich, asset-poor. Of course, it is also somewhat unsustainable in the long term, but that’s if we get into finance and stuff.

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