My unwilling confession did not faze Malfoy. His face morphed into an expression of satisfaction as he drew his body back, leaning on his hands. He gazed at me pensively. I felt incredibly vulnerable being under the effect of the Truth Serum. Draco Malfoy could ask me another question at any moment, and I would be forced to answer truthfully.
"What's this about?" Tracey said, her brow furrowing.
"I have used Veritaserum on Malfoy without his consent before," I said, unable to stop my tongue from moving. "To be fair, though, I did not plan on using it on him," I added, thinking that would save me from seeming like a total dick.
"Who were you planning on using it on then?" Pansy said, eyeing me suspiciously.
The rules were to ask only one question per round. And yet here we were.
"Daphne," I said. My mouth was betraying me and my intentions, speaking outside of my will.
Daphne's face contorted into a look of utter confusion.
"What?" she said, shocked. "Why me? Why would you need Veritaserum to make me tell the truth — I would never lie to you, Maeve!"
"I wanted to find out who tampered with my cauldron last year — I thought, when you said it was Pansy, maybe you were lying because I could not believe that Pansy would have done something like this."
I pleaded with Daphne through my eyes, although my words stung her like wasps. She shook her head at me.
"I still can't believe you thought I did it. Why did you even think that I would do that to Maeve?!" Pansy then said to Daphne.
Daphne pressed her lips against each other before saying, "You just seemed so suspicious when we found out about the cauldron exploding in the common room. You weren't even surprised about the whole situation. It was as if you knew it was going to happen. So, I just figured it was you the whole time."
"That's because — Well, I saw Malfoy doing it. But I did not want to snitch on him, so I kept my mouth shut," Pansy said, retreating into herself.
"Wait, let me get this straight," Theodore Nott looked immensely amused by the whole ordeal. "So, Malfoy tampered with Maeve's cauldron. Parkinson saw it, chose not to tell anyone, and unintentionally acted suspiciously instead. Greengrass picked up on that and assumed Pansy did it but also chose not to tell on her either. Then, Blackwood made a Truth Serum to find out if Greengrass did it—"
"No, it was because Daphne told me it was Pansy, and I wanted to figure out if she was telling the truth or not," I corrected.
"Okay, so Daphne did snitch," Nott clarified.
"Well, I had kept my mouth shut for a good couple of months," Daphne chimed in.
"The real question is, how did Malfoy end up drinking the Truth Serum instead of Greengrass?" Blaise interjected, also invested.
"Because I mixed it in pumpkin juice that I planned on giving to Daphne, but she did not take it. Malfoy thought it was my drink and drank it to irk me — not knowing that it contained veritaserum," I said in one swift breath, and I exhaled. Somehow, laying all of this truth out in the open felt like a relief. As if all of these little lies had been weighing me down.
"And, under the influence of the Truth Serum, Malfoy admitted that he tampered with her cauldron," Tracey continued for us. "And, it looks like he realized what happened fairly quickly."
"Of course I did," Malfoy asserted pompously. I rolled my eyes at him. "Blackwood simply confirmed my theories today by pathetically pretending this bottle wasn't hers." He grabbed the Truth Serum and twirled it around his fingers once, gazing at it with admiration.
"Ah, so that's why there was Blackfoy beef," Theodore said, looking like he had just completed a puzzle on his own for the first time.
"No," Malfoy and I said at the same time.
"Hang on, guys. We need to stop asking each other questions — the game was Truth or Dare, and we were only allowed to ask one question," Tracey said suddenly. "We agreed to be under the influence of veritaserum only to play this game, and nothing else. Let's be fair."
"How are you not in Hufflepuff?" Millicent audibly scoffed. "Who cares about being fair? This is far more interesting."
"I don't know why I am not in Hufflepuff, but please, let's just proceed with the game," Tracey said, rolling her eyes as the Truth Serum obliged her to answer the rhetorical question Millicent threw at her.
"Alright, so whose turn is it, now?" Pansy asked.
"Tracey's, actually," I said. Tracey smiled, prepping herself.
"I pick dare, this time," she said with a bold smirk.
We all remained quiet, pondering on what dare we could give Tracey.
"I dare you to throw a dungbomb in the common room where the prefects are," Millicent said suddenly, an amused and evil smile tugging at her lips.
"That's—" Tracey stammered, blinking. "You do realize they'll catch me — and the common room will smell like shit for days."
"Okay, I vote we use the imperius curse on those who don't want to do their dare," Millicent deadpanned, promptly raising her hand to vote.
"What the Hell is wrong with her?! Sweet Merlin..." Tracey exasperated. Millicent was unfazed. "I'll do the bloody dare, Milly. I was just letting you rethink of the consequences."
"Don't call me Milly, you cow," Millicent snapped. My eyes widened and so did Tracey's.
"Cow?!" Tracey repeated, outraged. "You called me a cow?!" Tracey straightened her back and looked like she was about to lunge at Millicent Bulstrode.
"Okay, maybe it's time we call it a night," I proposed, laughing awkwardly.
The others seemed to have come to the same conclusion as me as they agreed very adamantly.
"Yeah, let's not have this evening end with someone in the hospital wing," Daphne chimed in, cautiously glancing at Tracey and Millicent. Tracey was seething while Millicent looked like she was eager to pull out her wand.
"Alright, time for bed, folks," I announced, standing up and prompting the others to do the same.
I used my wand to levitate the pillows and blankets we had layed out on the floor onto the few chairs we had around. The third-year Slytherin boys bade us goodnight as they left the girls' dormitories. The rest of us prepared for bed.
Mid-way into the month of November, as the next full moon approached, people's chatter in the Great Hall had shifted from talking about the mass murderer on the loose to chattering with anticipation about the first quidditch match of the school year: Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff.
Today was the day before the match, and the weather was incredibly uncooperative. Rain splattering and spluttering, our feet sploshing the water as we hurried to our classes. The corridors were so dark that the castle had extra torches and candles lit.
It was originally meant to be a Gryffindor versus Slytherin match on Saturday but due to Malfoy's "broken" arm, Flint convinced the teachers to switch Slytherin to another day. I would have taken that as a sign that I was not the reserve seeker anymore, but I knew Flint just conveniently "forgot" about me so that Slytherin didn't have to play in the terrible weather conditions. Although, it had been over a month since I had last attended quidditch practice, and no one had reached out to me about quidditch either. So, perhaps I simply was tacitly out of the team.
I almost skipped Defence Against the Darks Arts in the afternoon, so that I could brew potions in the washroom, but I was running out of excuses to give to Professor Lupin, so I decided to attend this time.
To my surprise, it was not Professor Lupin awaiting us in the DADA classroom, today, but Professor Snape. His shoulder-length greasy black hair shined under the gently lit torches of the classroom. He had a look of displeasure on his face — which was surprising, considering that he'd been aching for this post as DADA professor for years, apparently. Though, I supposed being a replacement wasn't what he had strived for, but still.
Ten minutes into class, Harry Potter entered, drawing everyone's attention.
"Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin, I—" he said automatically, but cut himself short when noticing it was Snape sitting at the teacher's desk.
"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down," Professor Snape advised monotonously.
Potter didn't move.
"Where's Professor Lupin?" he asked.
"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," Snape said, a twisted smile curling on his thin lips, and a hint of malice in his black eyes. "I believe I told you to sit down?"
Potter remained where he was at the entrance of the classroom.
"What's wrong with him?"
Snape's black eyes glazed.
"Nothing life-threatening," he said, seeming like he wish he weren't here in his place. "Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty."
Malfoy, who was seated two seats ahead of me, smirked with satisfaction as he watched Harry walk slowly to his seat and sit down. Snape looked around at the class.
"As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far—"
"Please, sir, we've done boggarts, red caps, kappas, and grindylows," Hermione said quickly, "and we're just about to start—"
"Be quiet," Snape said coldly, his eyes glancing venemously over at Hermione, who sank a little in her seat. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."
"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," Dean Thomas said boldly, and the rest of the class murmured in agreement, except Malfoy and his goons. Snape looked over at the class menacingly.
"You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you — I would expect first years to be able to deal with red caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss—" Snape flicked through the back pages of the textbook, through the chapters he surely knew we hadn't covered yet, "—werewolves."
"But, sir," Hermione said, seemingly unable to hold herself back, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start hinkypunks—"
"Miss Granger," Snape replied in a deadly calm voice, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394." He glanced around at us again. "All of you! Now!"
After we had all managed to open our books at the right page, Snape said, "Which one of you can tell me how we distinguish the werewolf from the true wolf?"
Everyone was quiet and motionless, except for Hermione whose hand flew into the hair as it often did.
"Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring her. He smiled twistingly again. I failed to hide my frown.
"Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between—"
"We told you," suddenly said a Gryffindor girl that I hadn't acquainted yet. All I knew about her was that she had a twin in Ravenclaw. "We haven't gotten as far as werewolves yet, we're still on—"
"Silence!" Snape snarled. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are..."
"Please, sir," Hermione pleaded as her hand was still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf—"
"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," Snape said coolly. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."
I gasped quietly. Hermione's face went fiery red as she put her hand down, and looked down at the floor. All the Gryffindor students glowered at Snape. I thought I was the only Slytherin student who threw a glare in Snape's direction until I noticed Tracey fuming next to me. She glanced at me and rolled her eyes furiously in reference to Snape.
"You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?" Ron Weasley interjected furiously.
I knew instantly he had gone too far. I didn't approve of Snape verbally harassing students, but I knew better than to bark back at him.
Snape seemingly glided towards Ron. I held my breath, feeling uncomfortable as I imagined myself in Ron's position.
"Detention, Weasley," Snape said silkily, his face very close to Ron's, whose eyes widened in fear. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."
And everyone remained very quiet for the remaining of class. We spent the rest of class taking notes about werewolves directly from our textbook instead of Snape teaching us. I regretted coming to class and fantasized about brewing potions in the washroom with Myrtle to keep me company.
I had to admit, however, that werewolves were, by far, the most interesting topic we had encountered this term in DADA. The textbook had full body pictures of werewolves standing and crouching, their physical attributes and characteristics listed carefully. Apparently, there was a potion that could be brewed to help werewolves keep human consciousness when they turned at the full moon.
When the bell rang, Snape held us back to assign us some homework I knew I would not do anyway. My peers groaned in annoyance about the homework as we shuffled out of the classroom.
By night time, it was clear the weather would remain just as melancholic tomorrow day. I didn't stay in the Great Hall much longer to engage in the endless quidditch chatter. Instead, I opted to brew potions in Myrtle's bathroom before Slytherin curfew hit.
Myrtle was not in the bathroom when I entered, but I didn't dwell on that too long before dropping myself onto the floor to browse through my ingredients.
I was running low. I had forgotten to restock on my ingredients during the Hogsmeade trip as I was distracted with the S4 and Amirah Flowers that day.
Amirah Flowers had suggested recently that I grew my own plants for my potions, but my lazy arse didn't bother. She was probably right, though.
Determined, I ventured out of the bathroom and went on to the Greenhouses. Luckily for me, Professor Sprout was nowhere in sight when I arrived.
The Greenhouses were outside the castle and were nothing short of foliage, vines, and leafage. The autumn season had rendered the outdoor plants crimson red, citrus orange, and amber brown. The rainstorm was enough to make me hurry into a random greenhouse.
My vision was immediately hallowed with vibrant verdure and picturesque flowers. Every section of this greenhouse was clustered, interlaced, and woven with greenery and bright colourful blossoms.
Decidedly, this greenhouse was meant for flowers. There were belladonas, moondews, dittany, confrey, daisies, and myriads more. I wasn't familiar with all the flowers blooming in this greenhouse, so I cautiously decided to only gather the ones I knew very well.
My bag was filled with flowers, herbs, stems, and leaves by the time I finished looking through the different greenhouses. Some of them were locked and couldn't be opened with Alohomora. I figured they housed the dangerous and poisonous plants that could seriously harm students — which made it all the more interesting to explore for me, but I chose to remain satisfied with the loads of plants I had already gathered tonight.
Back at the haunted girls' bathroom on the second floor, Myrtle the ghost was seemingly waiting for me.
"You left your things laying around," she pointed out. "I made sure no one entered the bathroom whilst you were gone."
"Oh, thanks," I smiled. "I didn't think I was going to be gone for so long. I went to the Greenhouses to get more ingredients — it was an amazing trip. I should pay more attention in Herbology class next time."
"Huh," she hummed. "I remember fondly professor Bleery entertaining us with his theatrical antics in that classroom."
"Well, I suppose my issue with that class is not the professor but rather the plants we study — they tend to be so boring."
"Well, what are you planning on doing with your new collection of ingredients?" Myrtle queried.
"I'd have to dry out most of them so I can grind them to powder later, but these fresh plants," I pulled out dittany plants and placed them in front of me on the floor. "I'm thinking of experimenting with mending solutions tonight. Perhaps something that could work to heal burn scars."
"Oh, that sounds so boring," Myrtle moaned. "Well, call me if anything interesting happens."
And she glided over to the windowsill, gazing longingly at the full moon outside. The rain was pounding against the window, forming dancing shadows of water drops on the floor.
After summoning water in my cauldron, I lit a gentle fire underneath it. I flipped through the pages of a mending book I'd found in the library. Restorative potion-making wasn't exactly my strong suit, but it was worth a try for James.
"You know those flobberworms from last time?" I called out to Myrtle. She hummed curiously as a response. "Well, I'm finally putting them to use today."
I opened the little container house I'd made for the flobberworms I had stolen from my Magical Creatures class. A disgusting stench filled the aie when I'd opened the container.
"Oh, disgusting," I grimaced, turning my face away from the flobberworms. "Well, at least they made babies so I can keep using them."
"You've managed to make me thankful my sense of smell is gone as a ghost," Myrtle said, looking at the flobberworms in pure disgust.
"Hmm, I think I've been overfeeding them," I said, levitating one worm with my wand to observe it closer. "They're so fat and juicy."
"Please, Merlin. Don't describe them to me anymore. I'm looking away on purpose," Myrtle gagged.
"Alright, sorry," I laughed as I placed both a flobberworm and dittany in the now simmering water of my cauldron.
Poof!
As soon as the two ingredients fell into the water, they violently boiled into a cloud of green smoke. I stood up quickly, coughing the disgusting stench away. Myrtle started laughing.
"What the bloody Hell is this?!" I exasperated. Shaking my head, I kneeled back down to look at the potion recipe I was following. "Salazar! I forgot to stir boom berry juice into the water. Why the bloody Hell is this step written in such fine print? Is this some sort of joke?"
Myrtle managed to stifle her chortles
"I thought you were a potion master, Blackwood. Aren't ointments on the easy end of potion-making?" she teased.
"Oh, hush," I groaned. "It really was written in fine print. I bet someone jinxed the recipe to trick innocent potioneers like me."
"Oh, sure, they did," Myrtle giggled, unconvinced and amused.
"Whatever," I said as I waved my wand to clear up the mess.
The evening went by much smoother from then on. Myrtle went back to moon-gazing while I struggled to read the recipe's fine print. After one successful brew of the mending potion, Myrtle began pestering me about some boy again.
"Myrtle, I'm not interested in boys at this point in my life. I'm way too focused on my career right now. Love can wait," I declared, sounding like I had rehearsed that, which I absolutely did.
"No, listen," she hissed impatiently. "The boy from last time is outside again. Look!"
"Huh?" I turned around to see what she meant. Myrtle urged me to stand up instead, and reluctantly, I did.
It was hard to see outside the window too well because of the heavy rain. I could merely make up a silhouette of a person standing in front of the Great Lake.
"That's just a shadow," I said. "Could be anyone. Hell, it could even be a dementor."
"Use your wand to push the water away, from the window" Myrtle proposed.
"I don't know how to do that," I admitted.
"Use Impervius," Myrtle demanded. "I saw the boys using this charm on their goggles when they were practicing quidditch."
"Impervius?" I said, raising my wand. Nothing happened. "Are you messing with me?"
"No, it really does work!" she sighed dramatically at me. "Go on! Try again!"
Blinking my doubts away, I attempted to cast the spell again. Nothing happened. I looked curiously at Myrtle. She urged me to try again.
Impervius.
The water and mist that had accumulated on the window pane had entirely disappeared. No drops of water was capable of staying on the window; They all bounced away as if they were allergic to the glass pane.
"See?! I knew it!" Myrtle pointed at the boy. "It's the same boy as the last full moon!"
Blinking, I tried looking closely at who it was. It was evidently a male student. He had a charm activated by his wand that formed an invisible umbrella above his head. I couldn't quite tell who it was from so far away, but I could make out what appeared to be Hufflepuff's colours on his robes. Dark hair? It was hard to tell distinctly who it was.
Suddenly, the Hufflepuff Boy abandoned the umbrella charm with his wand and ambled into the lake. I gapped, blinking.
"What the bloody Hell was that?!" I was baffled.
"He did that the last time!" Myrtle exclaimed.
Who was that Hufflepuff Boy? And why was he venturing into the Black Lake on a monthly basis?