Harry Potter - foresight reawakened - (2) research, quidditch, and Pansy
foresight reawakened - (2) research, quidditch, and Pansy
*
Snape had given him permanent access to the Restricted Section in fourth year. Draco claimed he needed it for extra credit potions work, but his Head of House knew he really wanted to research the Dark Arts no one would teach him in school, and gave him the pass. There were some things that needed to be taught, no matter what people thought. Snape understood that. He was a Slytherin.
Draco stood in the Restricted Section, pass safely back in his pocket, and ran his hands over the books. Title after title passed by on tomes big and small, but none was quite right. There were books defending against Unforgiveables and medical journals sponsored by St Mungos, but nothing specifically about harmful or hindering rituals, and nothing at all about Crucio. It was his second visit to the section; Pince was getting suspicious, even though Draco was well within his rights to be there. She kept on glaring at him with her hawkish eyes. It would have been unsettling if Draco hadn’t been used to the unholy trio shooting him the same looks every day in Potions and Care of Magical Creatures.
He was searching for curses and rituals Crucio counteracted. It was hard to find the books he wanted because he couldn’t come right out and ask Madam Pince without her telling Dumbledore exactly what he was up to, if the old coot didn’t already know.
Draco’s finger suddenly caught on a book stuck out a ways. The Dangers of Crucio! it read in big bold letters the color of cat eyes. Well, this looked promising.
Draco took it to a desk and sat down. Flipping to a random page, he read the first sentence his eyes alighted upon:
Crucio is not completely harmful, however. It is used in small doses by some medical professionals to cure seizures, unlock abilities latent in less powerful wizards, and undo Dark Rituals which block such abilities from being used.
Dark rituals. Well, that narrowed down the field, though Draco had suspected only a Dark ritual would stop a Seer from Seeing. This book might be of some use after all.
Draco took it to the desk and checked it out, smiling sweetly at Madam Pince all the while.
*
Quidditch practice that night was brutal. Marcus Flint had come back to visit-it was the professional quidditch off-season. Draco, as the second-oldest member of the Slytherin team and the man in charge since Ripley got hit by a bludger earlier on and had to go to the hospital wing, had deferred to Flint’s experience for the three practices he would be present.
“Malfoy, get your legs up under you!” the (finally) graduated Chaser yelled. Draco tucked his legs closer to the broom and let himself fake surprise at the tiny bit faster it managed to travel. It would make all the difference in a game, but chasing practice snitches spelled to stay above the field wasn’t a problem for Draco. He could do this in his sleep, the Seeker thought, hand reaching for the snitch hanging obliviously just to his right.
His hand closed on air. “Oh, bugger,” he spat.
Then the bludger knocked him off his broom.
*
“I thought it didn’t exist yet!” he confided to Pansy. She’d been talking to Millicent, but was willing enough to leave the conversation when Draco walked in with his left arm in a sling.
“What do you mean you thought it didn’t exist yet?” she asked.
Draco told her about the not-yets, everything his mother had told him and bits about the strange visions he’d seen thus far. He didn’t tell her about the kiss in the hospital wing, though. Better not to plant the idea in anyone’s head and hope that kept it from coming to pass. “But you mustn’t tell anyone,” he insisted when he was through.
“Do you want I help you look?”
“Look?”
“For whatever your curse is. Though if you ask me it’s more a blessing than a curse. I mean, if you can see the future, you can change it.”
“But that’s just it,” Draco said, using his wand hand to gesticulate before he remembered the bone was still knitting and bugger it hurt. “I can only see things in the places they’ll happen. I’m not in the mood to go traipsing about just to see whether or not a certain place holds an important not-yet-conversation, or whatever. It’s too shaky to be used properly.”
“Draco.” Pansy put a hand on his thigh. “That’s just the way the future is. Unpredictable, unexplainable until you’ve lived it-sometimes not even then.” She lifted her hand from his leg to tuck an errant lock of chestnut brown hair behind her ear. “Anyway, I still think it’s a gift.”
“Well, you would.” He snorted. “Can’t even win the national lottery with it.”
Pansy swatted his arm. “Hey!” Draco shouted. “I’m injured here! Ugly cow.”
Pansy just snickered and hugged him, shoving him down onto the bed and cuddling him like she was Millicent’s loathsome black cat. “You know you love me,” she said.
She swatted him again when he laughed.
*
Snape had given him permanent access to the Restricted Section in fourth year. Draco claimed he needed it for extra credit potions work, but his Head of House knew he really wanted to research the Dark Arts no one would teach him in school, and gave him the pass. There were some things that needed to be taught, no matter what people thought. Snape understood that. He was a Slytherin.
Draco stood in the Restricted Section, pass safely back in his pocket, and ran his hands over the books. Title after title passed by on tomes big and small, but none was quite right. There were books defending against Unforgiveables and medical journals sponsored by St Mungos, but nothing specifically about harmful or hindering rituals, and nothing at all about Crucio. It was his second visit to the section; Pince was getting suspicious, even though Draco was well within his rights to be there. She kept on glaring at him with her hawkish eyes. It would have been unsettling if Draco hadn’t been used to the unholy trio shooting him the same looks every day in Potions and Care of Magical Creatures.
He was searching for curses and rituals Crucio counteracted. It was hard to find the books he wanted because he couldn’t come right out and ask Madam Pince without her telling Dumbledore exactly what he was up to, if the old coot didn’t already know.
Draco’s finger suddenly caught on a book stuck out a ways. The Dangers of Crucio! it read in big bold letters the color of cat eyes. Well, this looked promising.
Draco took it to a desk and sat down. Flipping to a random page, he read the first sentence his eyes alighted upon:
Crucio is not completely harmful, however. It is used in small doses by some medical professionals to cure seizures, unlock abilities latent in less powerful wizards, and undo Dark Rituals which block such abilities from being used.
Dark rituals. Well, that narrowed down the field, though Draco had suspected only a Dark ritual would stop a Seer from Seeing. This book might be of some use after all.
Draco took it to the desk and checked it out, smiling sweetly at Madam Pince all the while.
*
Quidditch practice that night was brutal. Marcus Flint had come back to visit-it was the professional quidditch off-season. Draco, as the second-oldest member of the Slytherin team and the man in charge since Ripley got hit by a bludger earlier on and had to go to the hospital wing, had deferred to Flint’s experience for the three practices he would be present.
“Malfoy, get your legs up under you!” the (finally) graduated Chaser yelled. Draco tucked his legs closer to the broom and let himself fake surprise at the tiny bit faster it managed to travel. It would make all the difference in a game, but chasing practice snitches spelled to stay above the field wasn’t a problem for Draco. He could do this in his sleep, the Seeker thought, hand reaching for the snitch hanging obliviously just to his right.
His hand closed on air. “Oh, bugger,” he spat.
Then the bludger knocked him off his broom.
*
“I thought it didn’t exist yet!” he confided to Pansy. She’d been talking to Millicent, but was willing enough to leave the conversation when Draco walked in with his left arm in a sling.
“What do you mean you thought it didn’t exist yet?” she asked.
Draco told her about the not-yets, everything his mother had told him and bits about the strange visions he’d seen thus far. He didn’t tell her about the kiss in the hospital wing, though. Better not to plant the idea in anyone’s head and hope that kept it from coming to pass. “But you mustn’t tell anyone,” he insisted when he was through.
“Do you want I help you look?”
“Look?”
“For whatever your curse is. Though if you ask me it’s more a blessing than a curse. I mean, if you can see the future, you can change it.”
“But that’s just it,” Draco said, using his wand hand to gesticulate before he remembered the bone was still knitting and bugger it hurt. “I can only see things in the places they’ll happen. I’m not in the mood to go traipsing about just to see whether or not a certain place holds an important not-yet-conversation, or whatever. It’s too shaky to be used properly.”
“Draco.” Pansy put a hand on his thigh. “That’s just the way the future is. Unpredictable, unexplainable until you’ve lived it-sometimes not even then.” She lifted her hand from his leg to tuck an errant lock of chestnut brown hair behind her ear. “Anyway, I still think it’s a gift.”
“Well, you would.” He snorted. “Can’t even win the national lottery with it.”
Pansy swatted his arm. “Hey!” Draco shouted. “I’m injured here! Ugly cow.”
Pansy just snickered and hugged him, shoving him down onto the bed and cuddling him like she was Millicent’s loathsome black cat. “You know you love me,” she said.
She swatted him again when he laughed.