12 September 1991
As Harry headed down to breakfast, he wondered whether he would need an extra dose of Sleekeazy to survive the day.
Today marked the long-anticipated start of flying lessons.
Naturally, the Slytherins and Gryffindors had been grouped together, so the odds of the afternoon ending in tears were high.
And sure enough, the day began badly.
Malfoy and his cronies picked a pointless fight with the Gryffindors at breakfast, which Professor McGonagall quickly broke up.
When they returned to the Slytherin table, Harry asked what the commotion had been about.
Malfoy was evasive, but Goyle blurted out that they had been mocking Longbottom because his grandmother had sent him a Rememberall as a gift.
“And what exactly is a Rememberall when it’s at home?” Harry asked.
“It’s a glass orb that turns red when you’ve forgotten something important,” Draco replied blandly, buttering his toast.
“Hmm. That could be useful.”
“Not really. Besides, Longbottom’s is huge, ancient, and ugly—looks like cheap glass. He’ll probably break it by the end of the week.”
“I thought you’d gotten over your issues with Neville.”
“I don’t have ‘issues,’ Potter. But your brother hasn’t done anything obnoxious in a week, so I’ve gone back to holding equal disdain for all Gryffindors.”
Harry shook his head and returned to his Daily Prophet.
He hoped the rest of the day would be less dramatic.
Ten hours later…
His hopes had been in vain.
That evening, Draco sat down for dinner across from him.
Harry simply stared at the other boy in furious consternation. noticed. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Eventually,
Draco
“What?” he asked.
“And what, pray tell, was all that about?” Harry asked, somewhat hotly.
“You’ll have to be more specific, Potter. It was an eventful day.”
“The part where you insulted Longbottom when he wasn’t there to defend himself.
Then deliberately threatened to destroy his Rememberall after he fell and got hurt.
Then flew off with the Git in direct defiance of Madam Hooch’s orders.
Then tried to destroy the Rememberall again, only for the Git to miraculously catch it.
Oh—and just now, you challenged the Git to—and I still can’t believe this is a thing—a wizard’s duel?” “Yes.
All of that did happen.
Do you want to be my second?
The Weasel is seconding the Git.”
“At a wizard’s duel? It’s not even October! What are you two going to do—Transfigure matchsticks into needles and fling them at each other until someone loses an eye?”
“You’ll just have to come to the duel and find out. Meet me in the Trophy Room at midnight.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed as he studied Malfoy’s smirking face.
“You’re not even going, are you? This is just a trap to get the Git and the Weasel out of bounds after curfew.”
Draco laughed.
“That’s what I like about you, Potter. Despite your obvious deficiencies, you’re still leagues ahead of your miserable brother.”
“Well, I suppose that passes for a compliment in this House.” “Pfft. If you wanted compliments, Potter, you should have gone to the Puffs.”
“Well, hopefully this has at least cured you of your strange obsession with Longbottom’s Rememberall.”
Draco sneered and returned to his dinner.
Theo watched the exchange in silence.
Later, as the Slytherins were returning to their dormitories, Theo nudged Harry and whispered, “You should think about getting a Rememberall yourself if you can.” He held out his hand to show a small orb that looked just like Neville’s, only about a quarter the size.
“Draco has one too. They’re more useful than you might think.” Then he moved on quickly, leaving a perplexed Harry Potter behind.
13 September 1991
The next morning, Harry met Hermione and Neville in the Library.
They were supposed to review last-minute Defence Against the Dark Arts questions before class.
Instead, he found himself sitting in a padded chair, rubbing his temples, while Hermione and Neville described their “adventures” from the night before.
“So let me get this straight,” he said tiredly.
“Jim and Ron decided to sneak out for an illegal midnight wizard’s duel that wasn’t going to happen anyway because the whole thing was a trap to get Jim in trouble—which I figured out in less than five seconds. And you went along because…?”
“Well, I wasn’t planning to go with them,” Hermione said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.
“I came out into the corridor to tell them not to go. Then the Fat Lady wandered off and I was locked out, so I thought it better to stay with them than sit in the corridor alone.”
“And they actually found me passed out on a bench nearby,” Neville added sheepishly.
“I, ah, sort of forgot the password and fell asleep.” He muttered “stupid Rememberall” under his breath, just loud enough for Harry to hear.
“So to continue,” Harry said with mounting annoyance, “the four of you went to the Trophy Room, discovered Malfoy never showed, nearly got caught by Filch, and then decided the best thing to do was head straight for the Third Floor Corridor of Certain Painful Death?”
“Well,” Neville replied with a grin, “obviously the Headmaster’s warnings of certain painful death were exaggerated, since we did not, in fact, die or even suffer any pain. But we did find a Cerberus! And we also learned that Jim has a very high-pitched voice when he screams!” He laughed.
Hermione punched his shoulder in annoyance.
“We also learned that the Cerberus was sitting on a trapdoor,” she added.
“Clearly something incredibly valuable is being hidden down there. But what could it be?”
Harry looked back and forth between his two friends in wonder.
“A better question would be: why on Earth do you care? Dumbledore said to stay away because it was dangerous, and I take him at his word. How did you even get past the door?!”