Chapter 8

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Over the course of the week's Potions lessons I continue to use the handwritten instructions in my textbook rather than the original ones. I did offer to share the book with Ron and Hermione, after they questioned how I was suddenly doing so well, but Hermione insists that it could be dangerous, and Ron has been inclined to agree with whatever she says recently. That is why now, as we sit together doing our homework, they're both paging through library books, whilst I alone copy straight from the textbook.

"This book is property of the Half-Blood Prince," I read aloud, noticing the signature on the bottom of the back cover.

"Sorry, Harry, did you say something?"

"Um... No, never mind."

The Half-Blood Prince... Who could that be? I've never heard of wizarding royalty before, but it could have been something I missed, as I nap in History of Magic. Or else, it could just be a nickname. I would ask Hermione's opinion, but as her views on the book are seriously skewed I don't think I will.

I look at the clock and find the time to already be five to eight. I say a quick goodbye to my friends and climb through the portrait hole, heading for Dumbledore's office. It's time for my first lesson with him and I don't want to be late.

I hurry through the maze of deserted corridors, and am almost at my destination when I walk straight into something tall, solid, and invisible. The something grabs my shoulder, steadying me, and as I catch my winded breath I'm caught by the strong scent of vanilla. Is someone stealing Amortentia?

Using my nifty speed as a Seeker, I plunge my hands forward, feeling the silky material of an invisibility cloak and pulling it towards me. I'm left standing face-to-face with none other than Draco Malfoy. Surprise, surprise, who else would be a thief? He isn't visibly carrying anything but he probably has a phial of the potion in one of his robe pockets. I briefly think of forcing him down and searching for it, but the idea gives me a weird tingling in my stomach so I realise the thought probably disgusts me.

I'm suddenly conscious of how closely Malfoy and I are standing and hastily take a step backwards, looking him up and down as I dig for the right words to say.

"Sneaking around now, Malfoy?" It feels weak on my tongue, but that scent is making my brain too hazy to come up with better.

"It's none of your business, Potter." He spits at me, turning on his heal and stalking away, the enduring odour trailing behind him. Good. I have a lesson to learn so I'll need to concentrate. I continue up the final flight of stairs and whisper Dumbledore's password to the gargoyles. I'm summoned inside, and the lesson begins.

* * * * * * * *

As I leave the Headmaster a couple of hours later, I take a seat on the floor just a corridor away, wanting to organise my thoughts before returning to the common room. I have just learnt about Voldemort's parents, and a bit about his wizarding bloodline, by looking into peoples' memories, and also a little more about Dumbledore's blackened hand. Its condition seems to have something to do with that ring in the memory, but the professor was unwilling to fully elaborate on that yet.

I'm interrupted by a soft sniffling coming from nearby, and I freeze, before ducking under my recently re-acquired invisibility cloak and heading over to investigate, wand aloft.

"Who's there?" I risk calling out. If this is just Filch I'll be in so much trouble.

"Ha... Harry?" I sigh in relief. It's only Neville.

"Are you alright, Neville?" I ask, pulling my cloak from my body. "What's wrong?" His face is tear-stained, and still damp. He's been crying recently.

"It was Ma... Malfoy." He hiccups over the ferret's name. Wait, what was that jerk still doing skulking around here?
I ask Neville what happened.

"He just... Am I really as bad as he says? I know I'm stupid, and clumsy, and close enough to being a squib... But do I really not have anything worthwhile in me? Will I really be lonely forever, never getting a girlfriend, a wife, a family? Harry, am I really that repulsive?"

"Neville, no!" Like a brother, I hurry to console him, aiming to cheer him up at least enough to get him back to the common room where Hermione can help. I manage to do a fair job, but as we walk towards the Gryffindor Tower his last comment flickers in my mind.

Neville... repulsive? Did he not notice last night as we were all changing before bed and he turned around? The same heat that filled my body then flows through me now, and I feel my cheeks begin to burn. Did he not notice how I rushed to the bathroom right after that?

Neville's hand accidentally touches my thigh as he trips over a disappearing step, and I let out an involuntary gasp. Oh, Neville, you're definitely not repulsive!

What? Did I really just think that?

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