The Rising Sun: Chapter 3
A Harry Potter Fanfic
“Snape hates me,” Harry groaned as they sat in the library the next day. He dropped his head onto the table beside the parchment he was supposed to write his essay on.
“He dislikes you,” Draco agreed as he flipped through his potions textbook, “a lot, but I don’t think he hates you.”
“You were in potions today, weren’t you?” Weasley asked. “When he threw Harry’s entire potion out because it smelled a little funny?”
“Like I said, he dislikes him a lot, more than the other Gryffindors, but why would he hate him?”
Harry’s voice drifted up from the table. “Hagrid knows.”
“Hagrid knows what?” A stack of books dropped in front of the chair beside Draco, and he looked up to find Hermione staring curiously at Harry’s head on the table.
“Why Snape hates Harry,” Weasley explained.
She tilted her head to the side, considering. “He seems to dislike all Gryffindors, but he does treat you worse.” She gave Draco a unimpressed look. “But he seems to like the Slytherins.”
Draco grinned and shrugged. “Hey, I didn’t ask him to treat us better, but I’m not going to complain.”
She rolled her eyes and sat down. “That’s wrong, by the way.” She pointed to his potions essay.
“What?”
“There are five main uses of mustard seed in potions, not four.”
Draco stared at her for a second, then grabbed the book that listed the potion making properties of different plants and flipped through it.
She was right.
He sighed as he scratched out his sentence and corrected it.
“And shouldn’t you be working on your essay too?” she asked, turning her sharp gaze back on Harry.
“What’s the point?” he grumbled. “He’s going to give me a bad grade whatever I do.”
“But he’s a professor,” she said. “And the homework is to help you learn.”
Harry sat back up in his seat. “Yeah, I know.” He grabbed his bag and dug for a quill. Draco pushed the book he had been using over to him.
“What about you?” Weasley asked Hermione suspiciously. “Those don’t look like potions books. Don’t you have to work on your essay?”
“I finished it,” she said haughtily. Draco sighed. He probably would have finished too, if Harry and Weasley hadn’t been talking so much.
“So you don’t need the potions books we’re using?” Draco asked.
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
Weasley and Harry each kicked one of his legs, and he winced. “Ow! I was just asking. You’ve never sat with us before.”
She tossed her curly hair out of her face and over her shoulder. “I just thought I’d change things up today.”
Draco frowned. Clearly there was something else going on here he didn’t understand, but he shook his head and turned back to his essay. “Okay.”
“Did you get the book?” Weasley asked when Harry met them in the library. Snape had taken Hermione’s copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, which she had lent to Harry, and he had been trying to get it back.
“No. He was in the staffroom with Filch, but I figured out why he’s been limping! His leg looks horrible, all covered with blood and cut up.”
Draco had been trying to tune out the conversation so he could do his homework, but the new information made him look up.
“Really? What do you think could have happened?” Weasley asked, at the same time that Hermione gasped, “That’s horrible!”
“I don’t know what happened,” Harry said, “But he said something about three heads. Do you think he was attacked by some sort of creature?”
Everyone turned to Hermione, and she raised her chin, clearly proud to be helpful. “It’s certainly possible. There are several magical creatures with three heads, though most of them wouldn’t attack humans, or they’re too small to cause much damage, but there are still some dangerous ones, and the Forbidden Forest is probably forbidden for a reason.”
“So you think he was just wandering around the Forbidden Forest for an evening stroll then?” Weasley asked, rolling his eyes. Draco went back to his homework while the two of them argued.
“I do still need a way to get the book back,” Harry interjected. “Since talking to him didn’t work.”
“Why don’t you sneak into his office?” Draco suggested.
“I–I shouldn’t do that . . .”
“Why not? He took it first, didn’t he?”
Weasley and Hermione stopped arguing to offer their opinions. “That’s brilliant!” “Draco, he’s a professor!”
“Then he should know that not taking library books outside isn’t a rule, especially since that wasn’t a library book.” Hermione didn’t argue, probably because she had read all the school rules and knew he was right.
“But you still shouldn’t sneak into his office.”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Weasley said, as though there had ever been a question. “But–” he pointed at Draco, “–you have to come with us. If we get caught, Snape’ll be less likely to punish us horribly. And plus it’ll even out the house points a bit.”
“Fine, but only if you lot shut up and let me work.” Thankfully, they did.
That night, he realized there was one thing he hadn’t considered: four students was an awful lot to try to hide in mostly empty corridors. The four of them met outside the Great Hall and crept down the corridors towards Snape’s office. They made it without trouble, but a small scuffle erupted outside the door as they tried to decide who should stand lookout. Eventually it was decided that Draco was the best choice, and he was left outside, grumbling, though he knew they had a point.
Every sound inside the office made him cringe, and he felt he could hear the seconds pass. The corridor was long, empty, and open. Honestly, what would he do if someone did come? He would have time to sound the alarm, but they didn’t have much of an escape plan.
Whispers drifted through the crack in the door. “Did you find it?” “No.”
“Do you hear something my sweet?”
Uh oh.
Draco slipped into the office. Weasley spotted him first and rolled his eyes. “A lookout is supposed to stay outside and–”
“I know,” Draco hissed, “but Filch is coming.”
Weasley’s eyes widened and he shoved the book he’d been holding back onto a shelf. Harry dropped the papers he’d been shuffling through, and Hermione ran over to the door to peek through the crack. The boys crowded around her.
Draco couldn’t see anything, but they could hear Filch walking past, grumbling to himself about students out of bed. Could he move any slower? Eventually, they couldn’t hear him anymore, and Hermione slowly opened the door a bit more.
“Let’s go,” she whispered. They crept out, one at a time, and Draco glanced back to make sure the office didn’t look ransacked, and at that moment, a book carelessly placed on the corner of the table decided to fall.
Everything stopped, like time was frozen, then Weasley said a word Draco would never have dared say in front of his parents, and they all took off running, no longer bother to be quiet.
Filch was behind them soon enough, and they just ran, not bothering to look where they were going–up stairs, down corridors, around corners. Eventually they ran into a large door and Weasley grabbed the handle. It was locked.
“We’re done for,” he groaned.
“Oh, move over!” Hermione shoved him out of the way and tapped the knob with her wand. “Alohamora!” The door swung open, and they ran inside, panting as the door swung shut.
Draco listened for Filch, but it sounded like he ran right past the corridor, and Draco sagged against the door.
“Um, guys?” Weasley whispered, and the others turned around.
The largest dog Draco had ever seen stood over them, drooling from three angry heads. The dog growled, and Harry grabbed for the door handle, yanking the door out from behind them. They all staggered back, then ran again, and Harry slammed the door in the dog’s face. They ran back down the stairs, then stopped, listening for any sounds of pursuit, whether dog or man, but they heard nothing, so they waited to catch their breath.
“What was that thing doing locked up here?” Weasley panted.
“Didn’t you see what it was standing on?” Hermione asked.
“The floor?” Draco asked.
“I wasn’t paying attention to its feet, Hermione,” Harry said.
She chose to ignore their answers. “It was standing on a trapdoor, so obviously it’s guarding something.”
“You reckon that’s what attacked Snape?” Weasley asked.
Harry shrugged. “It had three heads.”
“But why would it attack him?”
“Hang on,” Harry said. “That’s the third-floor corridor we’re not supposed to go to, right? And on Halloween, when the troll attacked, we saw Snape run up to the third floor, remember?”
“You think Snape was trying to get to the trapdoor?” Draco asked.
“But why?” Hermione asked.
“I think–I think he was trying to steal whatever is in there,” Harry said. “It’s something important, I’m sure of it. When Hagrid took me to Dragon Alley, he had to stop at Gringott’s to get a package as a special favor to Dumbledore. I think whatever was in that package is what the dog was guarding.”
“But why would Snape steal it,” Hermione asked, exasperated. “He’s a professor.”
“I agree,” Draco said. “Surely he could just ask to borrow it.” Harry didn’t look convinced.
Hermione shook her head. “Let’s go to bed before we get caught. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
“Sorry about the book, Harry,” Weasley said, patting him on the shoulder.
Harry shrugged. “It’s probably better. He would have known it was me.”
“Hey Draco!” Weasley called, waving from where he and Hermione sat. There was an empty space next to them, but he just waved and kept searching. This was a Gryffindor verses Slytherin match, after all. He should sit with his own house.
He found a spot with a few boys he knew from his parents’ parties. They paused their conversations with their other housemates long enough to greet him, but then immediately went back to what they were saying. He tried to join in the conversations around him, but the loudest one was about second-year courses he couldn’t quite follow, and the others were too quiet for him to listen to without being obvious.
Without meaning to, he realized he was looking at Ron and Hermione. Hagrid sat with them now, and the three of them passed around a pair of binoculars and laughed and poked each other. He turned away and focused on the players lining up into their starting positions.
The game started, and a Gryffindor student leapt into his commentary. The quaffle was shuffled around and around, and beaters chased all the players, but Draco couldn’t focus on any of it. All he could think about was how he wished he was up there with them, flying around the stadium instead of stuck in the crowd.
Harry drifted above them all, searching for the snitch as the chasers made their goals. Wouldn’t it be amazing if Draco were the Slytherin seeker? Then they could compete, really compete, with Draco’s broom from home instead of the junk they kept at school.
“What is Potter doing?”
“Is he crazy?”
“Wow, he sure doesn’t know how to use a broom, does he? What were they thinking putting a first-year on the team?”
Draco jerked, searching for Harry. He still hovered over the rest of the players, where he had been most of the game, but now his broom jerked and swerved. Draco shot to his feet and his jaw dropped. He’d never seen a broom try to kick off its rider like that before. Someone had to stop it!
He glanced around, sure someone must be doing something to help by now, and caught sight of Hermione running towards him. She paid no attention to where she was stepping or who she knocked over on her way.
“It’s Snape!” she hissed when she reached him.
“What?” That didn’t make any sense. Why would Professor Snape try something like this? “What do you–?” But she was already gone, running towards Professor Snape.
Draco ran after her, catching up just in time to see her set the professor’s robes on fire. She waited until Professor Snape noticed the flames curling up the fabric, then collected them again in a small jar, turned around and grabbed Draco’s hand, then dragged him away before the professor noticed them.
“Look!” She pointed to Harry, now secure once again on his broom, zooming down to the ground. “See? I told you it was Snape.”
Draco looked back toward Professor Snape, who was thoroughly distracted checking his robes for any remaining flames. She had a point, but what was Professor Snape trying to do?
The crowd erupted, dragging his attention back to the game, and Harry waving the snitch in the air. Before Draco had a chance to process the fact that Harry was okay, the game was over, and Gryffindor had won, Hermione was already dragging him down to the field.
“Come on,” she said. “We need to get Harry, and then we have a lot to talk about.”
Next chapter coming soon!