Unofficial Portkey Archive

With Malice Aforethought

S. P. Smith

It was the last Friday in November when Hermione's next attempt at a practical joke struck. Lunch was over, and all the students were wending their ways through the castle toward their afternoon lessons. Harry never did figure out exactly what spell she used, or how she hit him with it; as near as he could tell, he and the rest of the Gryffindor sixth-year students had filed into Professor Flitwick's Charms class as they always did.

Harry took his seat next to Parvati Patil, as Ron and Hermione were sharing a desk to his right. Harry pulled out his parchment and quill, and turned to Ron to ask him for some ink. And that's when it happened.

Nothing.

Harry's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. He called out to Ron and Hermione, and made no noise. Up at the front of the class, tiny Professor Flitwick began lecturing on Hurling Charms. Harry turned to Parvati and tried to get her attention. She saw him moving his mouth and making no sound, and looking worried. Her response was to roll her eyes and continue taking notes on the lecture. Harry wasn't sure if she thought he was playing around, or was simply so inured to magical practical jokes she didn't consider it an emergency.

Harry had a sudden, nasty thought. What if this wasn't a practical joke? What if this was a sneaky Voldemort trick? Harry thought it seemed low-key for a Death Eater plan, but there were potentials. Harry couldn't use most magics without his voice. He couldn't call for help. What if this wasn't temporary?

Harry turned to Ron, panic rising. He tugged on Ron's sleeve, trying to get his attention. But his lanky red-headed friend was busy whispering with Hermione, and didn't notice. Harry swore silently, and threw his quill at Ron's head. It stuck, nib first, in his collar-length ginger mop. Ron brushed it away impatiently, then froze. He looked down at Harry's quill, then turned to look at Harry in apparent puzzlement.

What? he mouthed silently.

I can't speak, Harry mouthed back.

What? was Ron's silent response.

Harry sighed noiselessly, and slumped. He waved at his throat, and shook his head. Ron tipped his head to one side, looking for all the world like an Irish Setter given a puzzling task. Harry screamed wordlessly. Ron scrunched his face up in disbelief. Over Ron's shoulder, Harry saw Hermione shaking with silent mirth.

That settled it for Harry. This was a practical joke, he wasn't in any real danger, and it was temporary. A knot of fear that had settled into his chest loosened at this. In a suddenly good mood, Harry pointed across Ron to his girlfriend's quiet hysterics. Ron looked back and forth quickly, catching on to the situation. Eventually Ron's face broke into a wide grin.

"Ah, Mister Potter!" Professor Flitwick gestured up to the slightly built dark haired boy. "I'm very glad you volunteered."

Harry looked down at his outstretched hand in horror. He looked to the right. Ron and Hermione looked torn between laughter and horror as well. Harry tried to explain that he hadn't meant to volunteer, and got a good sentence into it before remembering that he couldn't speak.

"No, no Mister Potter." Flitwick shook his head, clearly mistaking the reason for Harry's wordless muttering. "The incantation is Iacto. It is used like Leviosa, in that it is paired with its' target. No, why don't you try again?"

Harry glared at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. Well, he figured, no harm in trying. He twirled his wand at the test pillows laid out on the desk, and directed it toward the bin in the corner with a flick of his wand. Focusing his attention and concentrating, Harry attempted the spell wordlessly. To his surprise, the pillow rocketed away from him and hurled itself into the bin as directed.

The class gaped. Hermione's laughter died away, though Ron was still grinning.

Professor Flitwick raced over, his glasses slipping down his nose. "Can you do that again, Mister Potter?"

Harry shrugged, and concentrated wordlessly. Again, he gestured and a pillow launched itself away from him and into the bin in the corner.

Professor Flitwick clapped once. "Well done! And wordlessly too! Twenty points to Gryffindor!" Harry gave him a thumbs up.

As Flitwick tottered off to work with other students, Harry grabbed Ron's ink bottle, and scrawled a quick message on his scroll. He held the parchment up for his friends to read. On it were the words 'Practical Joke?'

Hermione thumped her head down upon her desk repeatedly.

* * *

As class was let out, Harry Ron and Hermione headed off for Defense Against the Dark Arts together. Ron was working at lightening his girlfriend's mood. Harry was trying to acknowledge people's hellos without a voice.

"C'mon, Hermy," Ron plead. "It was a really wicked joke. We all got a good laugh."

She bristled, looking over to Harry pantomiming at a couple of fifth-year Ravenclaw girls, his lack of words apparently forcing him to be more demonstrative with his gestures. "It didn't work," was what Hermione ground out.

"Sure it did." Ron pulled Harry onward, and he waved goodbye to his newfound friends. Potter in tow, Ron tailed Hermione towards the DADA classroom on the third floor. "Look, the bloke still hasn't got a voice."

"The victims of a practical joke," Hermione continued. "Generally do not earn bonus points for their House."

Ron looked at Harry. Harry shrugged. Ron continued to pester their friend. "But it was really funny."

Hermione pulled a few feet ahead of them. She was biting her words off at this point. "When he started levitating students, he got a standing ovation."

"That's our Harry." Ron clapped him on the back. "Life gives him lemons, he makes lemonade."

She threw open the door to the classroom, and stomped up the aisle past the various desks. "The Patil twins spent half an hour asking him to show them his wand technique."

Ron took a seat between Harry and Hermione. He looked perplexed. "Er, yeah. I did think that was odd."

Ron looked over at Harry, who went pink and shrugged. Hermione pulled her supplies out with more force than was strictly required. "The phrase 'strong but silent type' was used more than once, Ron."

Ron scratched his head. "Huh. Harry's not too strong though."

Harry punched his arm at this, then pushed him back in his chair. Leaning over Ron's seat, Harry drew Hermione's attention and pointed to his throat.

"Honestly," Hermione tutted. "Did you think of the obvious? Finite Incantatem."

"Thanks," Harry croaked. His voice had already fallen out of use, it seemed.

"Potter," called the sneering, aristocratic voice from over his shoulder. Ron, Hermione, and Harry turned in their seats to see Draco Malfoy leaning forward in his desk the next row back. Oddly, he'd been keeping his distance since school had resumed. Odder still, his two hulking thugs were nowhere to be seen.

Harry ignored Draco, and returned to getting his supplies in order.

"I'm talking to you Potter," Draco called out. "Turn your back on me again, and you won't see it coming."

"What'll I miss," Harry snapped, turning back. "Tossing my second Malfoy into Azkaban?"

Malfoy snarled, nearly spitting. "No Potter. Offing every Mudblood-loving one of you."

Ron left his desk, chair clattering to the floor behind him. Hermione grabbed his wand arm, and kept it pinned to his side. Harry leaned over as close to Malfoy's desk as possible. "You try something, Malfoy. Join the Death Eaters like your father. Throw one illegal hex. Anything, I don't care. Just give me one reason, and I'll be there."

Draco leaned back with a vicious smile. "I'm a prefect at this school Potter. My father will be let free by his friends in the Ministry. Unlike your little Blood-traitor friends, I have influence. I'm untouchable."

"Malfoy-" Harry managed, by act of super-human will, restrained himself from reaching for his own wand.

Draco held his hands up. "I just wanted to warn you Potter. Everyone dies. I just thought you'd like a heads-up."

Ron and Harry both moved forwards just as Professor Lupin entered the classroom. He looked from the two Gryffindors to Draco's smug expression. "Is there a problem here?"

Draco lifted his eagle feather quill, and smiled smoothly. "No Professor. No problem."

Harry patted Ron's shoulder, and they took their seats. Harry looked over to see what expression Hermione wore, and was surprised to see her surreptitiously sliding her own wand back into her pocket.

The class continued in uneasy stillness.

* * *

At the end of the class period, Professor Lupin motioned for Harry to stay behind. Not wanting to leave him alone so soon after facing off with Malfoy, Ron and Hermione found themselves loitering around, packing slowly.

As they slipped sheafs of parchment into their bags, Crabbe and Goyle stumped up to Harry. Ron and Hermione quickly bracketed him. Ron tossed his head at the two thugs. "What's your problem?"

Crabbe scratched his buzzed and prickly pate. "I don't know really."

Hermione's brows knit, and she looked like she smelled something offensive. "What do you want?"

Crabbe looked chuffed someone asked him something. "Wanted to tell you Draco's gone round the bend. Dangerous, that one."

Harry blinked. "Wasn't he always?"

Goyle answered, looking down at even Ron from his impressive height. "Not really. I don't think he can tell the difference between a hawk and a handsaw anymore."

Now it was Hermione's turn to blink. "What did you say?"

Goyle grinned. "What, got a hearing problem?"

She shook her head. "Never mind."

Crabbe turned to Harry. "You still gonna help me with the class project."

"Sure." Harry smiled faintly. He wasn't entirely sure Crabbe and Goyle were all together, the way their conversation meandered.

Goyle slapped a dish-sized hand down on his stubbier partner's shoulder. "C'mon. If we hurry we can sneak two desserts again."

Crabbe and Goyle wandered off. Crabbe looked up at Goyle. "We could just take desserts from the firsties."

Goyle slapped the back of his head. "Naw. They pick bogies at that age."

"I pick bogies now, though." The door closed on them, blocking the rest of the conversation off. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to look at each other.

Hermione spoke first. "That was an odd conversation."

"I'll say." Ron looked genuinely mad. "Harry, what are you doing helping those two goons?"

"Classwork" He knew this was going to be an argument.

"They're Death Eaters, and you want to do papier mache with 'em?" Ron sounded as mad as he looked.

"They're not Death Eaters," Harry answered hotly. "And I'm working on a class project with them. We're not hanging out in Hogsmeade or anything."

"I don't trust 'em." Ron crossed his arms over his chest.

Harry rolled his green eyes. "I don't trust 'em either, Ron. I'm working with them is all."

Hermione looked at him shrewdly. "And you're hoping you're an alternative to joining the Death Eaters, aren't you?"

Harry nodded and shrugged. Ron looked around. "What am I missing?"

"Those two haven't been tagging along behind Malfoy this year." Hermione hoisted her bag, slipping into lecture mode. "Perhaps spending some time with a wizard who isn't absolute rubbish will give them something to do other than follow Voldemort."

Harry nodded. "They're taking classes with Dumbledore. Hopefully it'll rub off."

Any further discussion was interrupted as Professor Lupin stepped out of his office and headed over to the three students. "Harry," he began without preamble. "How are you doing with the mirror?"

"Er, fine." Harry ducked his head without thinking. This wasn't something he really wanted to discuss in front of Ron and Hermione.

"Mirror?" Hermione picked up on the oddity of the question first.

Harry decided to try to cut this conversation off at the pass. "I'm borrowing something from Professor Lupin to try to stop the visions I get from Voldemort. It's not like Occlumency was working."

"Thank Merlin." Ron looked relieved, though not entirely over his feelings about Crabbe and Goyle. "Anything to avoid dragging you through the castle after another one of those dreams."

"And?" Lupin looked genuinely worried. "How do you feel."

"Fine," Harry lied. He'd been waking up tired and with headaches that felt bigger than his actual head. This information wasn't going to go over well, and he needed that mirror, so he didn't think this was the most important thing to talk about just then.

"Let me know if anything changes then, hmm?" Lupin smiled wanly. He tucked his hands into his sweater's pockets. "Off you go."

The three of them left the classroom, Harry moving fast. Hermione followed behind him, eyes darting from side to side as she thought. Ron tagged along last, checking out some of the antique wizard dueling costumes enshrined at the rear of the classroom.

Halfway down the first staircase, the last piece snapped into place for Hermione. "Holy Cricket, Harry!"

He flinched, and turned to shush her. "Not so loud."

"Tell me I'm wrong." Hermione was pale as she grabbed his sleeves. "Tell me you're not really..."

Harry raised his hands placatingly. "It's not like-"

"Not like what?" Hermione's hazel eyes were wide. "Not like you're using that Morgraine's Mirror?"

Ron whistled. "I knew the dreams were bad Harry, but..."

Harry turned to look at him. "They're not dreams, they're visions."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a worried look. Hermione tried again. "Maybe you should try Occlumency again, or try ignoring these... visions."

Harry gritted his teeth. "Every time he wants to play with me, he can. Every time he tortures someone, I feel it. Every time he kills someone, I'm right there. Do you get it?"

Hermione's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Is it really that bad?"

"Yes."

Hermione looked as though she was fighting with herself over her next words. "Harry? You do realize that that mirror was used as punishment, before Azkaban?"

Harry sighed. "If Sirius could do it for twelve years, I can manage to sleep with it."

Ron opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off. "And no, we're not talking about Sirius, okay?

Hermione gave him a friendly, warm hug. "Okay, Harry. Okay."

* * *

Leaning forward over the cold wooden handle of his Firebolt, Harry pushed right into a ninety-degree roll, before pulling the handle to his chest. The sharp move pressed him into the broom as he whipped through a tight right handed turn, Gryffindor robes snapping in the wind about him. One Bludger missed low, the other passed astern as he dodged hits from both Slytherin beaters. Harry pulled level and straight for a moment before veering up and to the left slightly. Leaning in again, he accelerated forward, caroming through the flight of green-cloaked chasers trying the move the Quaffle down field. The Slytherin Chasers broke formation and scattered, the attack on Ron's goal disrupted. Harry ducked as a Bludger cut across his flight path again.

Passing Nott, the Slytherin's newest Chaser, Harry was slammed sharply in the side. He veered away as Nott pulled his leg in.

The game had started as an ugly, heated, grudge match. Over the last thirty minutes, it had deteriorated from there. Half the players were bleeding from small cuts, Ron had a split lip, and both teams had taken a half-dozen penalty shots.

Suddenly, Harry caught sight of a green clad figure in a full dive from half a field away. Draco Malfoy was hurtling headlong at the pitch, and from the screams of the crowd, he'd seen the Snitch. Harry rolled upside down on the dive, tucking in tight to drop into his own dive as fast as possible. Squinting into the freezing wind, Harry tried to make out where the Snitch was down below.

Two seconds into the dive, he'd pulled even with Malfoy. The blades of grass covering the pitch were becoming distinct, and Harry still hadn't seen the Snitch. Suddenly, Harry pulled out of the dive. This was a Wronski Feint, Malfoy was just hoping to drive Harry into the ground.

In retaliation, Harry side slipped in above Malfoy. When the blond Seeker pulled up from his failed ploy, he slammed headlong into Harry's legs. There followed a quick exchange of punches and kicks as the two seekers fought to extricate themselves.

With a snarl, Draco pushed away and fought for altitude.

Harry spun counter-clockwise, and widened his gyre as he also gained altitude. Ignoring Malfoy again, he resumed his search for the Snitch. As Harry swooped past the Gryffindor stands, he heard Hermione and his other house mates screaming loudly.

As Harry pulled away from the stands, he saw it. The Snitch was darting about in midair, midfield, barely moving more than a few feet in any direction before changing course sharply. Harry looked to his right. Draco had seen the tiny golden Snitch and had lit off.

Harry leaned into his broom and tore off down field after him. He passed Malfoy quickly, and was an easy ten feet in the lead as they raced for the prize. It lacked subtlety, Harry thought, but he didn't care as long as it was another win to rub in that bleach-blond ferret's pointed face.

He turned to look forward, and saw a school messenger owl racing towards him. His brow furrowed; he'd never seen an owl on the Quidditch pitch before. The owl flew past the Snitch, and barreled on towards him. From over his shoulder, he heard Draco shouting something. The vividly red spell burst from Draco's wand, hurled past Harry, and narrowly missed the owl.

Reducto, came the oddly calm voice of Harry's mind, identifying the spell. Draco fired off a second, again narrowly missing the bird. Startled, the owl tried to reverse itself midair in a cloud of feathers.

Harry cut quickly in front of Draco, and sat up fully on his broom. Abruptly decelerating, Harry caught the owl to his chest. He heard the next Reductor curse barreling in on him from behind, and dove. Harry and the owl fell thirty feet in a heartbeat, and a barrage of spells whistled over his head as he dropped.

He recovered, one hand on the broom, the other cradling the owl to his chest. Harry looked down, and two wide, yellow eyes looked up at him. The owl hooted nervously.

A loud whistle interrupted Harry's staring match with the owl. Madam Hooch raced up to altitude alongside Malfoy, and was laying into him with a depth and breadth of colourful language that caught Harry by surprise. He wasn't sure he knew what all of of it meant, but it didn't sound very good. Finally, Madam Hooch wound down, and called Malfoy for a double foul.

Malfoy smirked back at her. "Check the rule books. It wasn't a foul."

"You used magic against an opposing player, Mister Malfoy," Madam Hooch snarled. Her brilliant yellow eyes flashed. "Be glad I can't have you thrown out of this school."

"But you can't, can you?" Malfoy smiled coldly. "And I didn't use magic on an opposing player."

Harry yelled out at Malfoy. "What do you call all those Reductor Curses?"

Malfoy tossed his Quidditch robes over one shoulder. "That stupid owl was in the way. I was aiming for it."

"That's barbaric!" Madam Hooch snapped."

"That's legal," Malfoy answered shortly. "Now, can we resume play?"

"No point." Harry flew over to join the two midair. He shuffled the owl over to the crook of his arm, and managed to get his hand free. He held it up to show them the Snitch, small wings beating helplessly.

Malfoy's pale face contorted with rage. "You can't do that! The play was over!"

"Only if there's a foul." Madam Hooch smiled sweetly. "And as you so clearly argued, there was no foul."

Harry looked over at the stands, where Gryffindor's points jumped by one-hundred and fifty. He smiled over at Malfoy, and hefted the owl onto his shoulder. Stroking the owl's chest, he spoke softly, but loud enough the Slytherin chaser could hear. "Guess the match is over, huh? What a good owl you are."

That's when Harry noticed the owl was carrying a note tied to one leg. Below it, it had an elaborate leather harness fastened to it's feet. Ignoring the harness, Harry pulled the note off. It was addressed to Draco Malfoy. Harry tore it open, only to find a blank piece of parchment.

"Accio!" came the sharp command, and the parchment leaped out of Harry's hand and hurried to Draco. Harry's brow furrowed as he looked at the other seeker. Malfoy snarled, and dropped earthward.

Any chance Harry had of following up on this unusual owl post was lost as the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team piled into Harry to slap him on the back. As a red and gold mass, the team sank to the ground. The post owl squawked in protest and flew off, as the jubilant team settled to the ground.

* * *

Ron and Hermione were ensconced in a single overstuffed armchair by the common room fireplace, Hermione perched cozily on her boyfriend's lap. Harry and Ginny were sitting opposite them on the central divan. The players were still damp from the showers, and Hermione had her red and gold scarf thrown across the table in between them. All told, the warming fire was very much appreciated.

Harry appreciated having friends to whom he could recount what Draco had done.

"He said he was aiming for the owl?" Hermione looked disgusted. "When he started firing off curses, the stands started rioting."

Ron nodded. "Kirke and Sloper were headed for that miserable ferret. I think they were planning on 'mistaking' him for a bludger, really."

"It was worse on the ground, Ron." Hermione squeezed his shoulder. "Seamus and Lavender got into a scuffle with Zabini and Parkinson from Slytherin."

Harry shook his head. "How could they? The Gryffindor and Slytherin stands are separated."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Harry. They were probably using magic."

He turned to look at Hermione, aghast. "They started dueling in the middle of a Quidditch match?"

Hermione's brows met in disdain. "I did mention the word 'riot' didn't I?"

"That bad?" Harry's green eyes were full of worry. "I was kind of distracted by Hooch and Malfoy."

Hermione nodded. "Even the teachers had their wands out. When you fell it looked like you'd been hit by something. "

Ron whistled. "Too bad Dumbledore didn't let fly at Malfoy. That would've been a good end to the match."

"Ron!" Hermione slapped his shoulder. "Don't joke about that!"

"Who's joking?" Ron smiled lopsidedly. He ignored the disgusted noise his girlfriend made, and continued. "Can you believe that vile prig would try to zap a defenseless bird just to win a game?"

"Actually, yes I can." Ginny patted Harry's hand, and looked up at him warmly. "Fortunately Harry was there to save the day again."

"Hmm." Harry looked away, suddenly very self-conscious.

"I'm not sure that's what happened, though." Everyone turned to look back at Hermione, who was clearly thinking aloud. "Harry, I think you should stay away from Draco as much as possible."

"Gladly." Harry laughed humourlessly. "Now we just have to convince him to stay in his dungeons forever, and it'll be easy."

"I'm serious." Hermione chewed her lip. "What if he wasn't aiming for the owl? What if that was just an excuse? A pretext, to curse you in front of witnesses?"

"What?" Ron pulled away slightly, in order to get a better look at his girlfriend's face. "Are you mad? Malfoy's a miserable excuse for human being, but he doesn't have the stones to try something like that!"

Harry shook his head. "He's right, Hermione. Malfoy's always hated me, but he's never had the guts to do anything about it."

Hermione raised her brows. "He's also never had his father tossed in Azkhaban before."

"I don't believe it." Harry got to his feet. Truth be told, he didn't want to believe it. He didn't want yet another wizarding enemy. At this rate, they'd merit their own check box on the next census. He headed for the portrait hole, intent on escaping to someplace quiet where he could think. "Draco just wants to win too badly."

"Harry!" Hermione sounded worried. "Didn't you hear me? I don't think wandering the halls is a good idea."

"You really think Malfoy's hiding in the corridor, on the off chance I want to go catch a breath of fresh air?" At Hermione's pointed silence, Harry shrugged and left through the portrait hole.

Harry let the portrait close behind him, then pressed himself up against the cold stone wall to one side, head back and eyes closed. He took a deep breath, then another. He truly hoped Hermione was wrong. He just couldn't think of a time when she ever was before. And that meant he had another mortal enemy. An incompetent, cowardly, prancing nancy-boy of a mortal enemy, but still.

"Should I leave you alone," came the soft voice from Harry's side. "Or should I stay?"

Harry opened his eyes and turned to see Ginny standing nervously beside him. Harry blew out the breath he'd been holding. "You can stay. It's just... it seems like everyone wants to kill me these days. It's too much, sometimes."

"I don't think so." At Harry's puzzled glance, Ginny rolled her eyes self-consciously and continued. "For me, or most anyone really, this would be too much. But you... I'm sure you'll handle this just fine."

Ginny turned playfully sarcastic. "It's not like Draco Malfoy has a pet basilisk, or anything really scary."

Harry laughed. "Thanks, Ginny. I needed that."

She put a hand on his arm, then ran it down until she found his hand. She gave him a soft squeeze. "Any time."

Harry met her eyes, and his breath caught. She had that peculiar expression on her face again, the one she'd had off-and-on for a month. Just now, it occurred to him she looked as if she wanted him to kiss her. Harry licked his lips, and stared at hers. "Um, Ginny? I noticed you're holding my hand?"

"Yes," Ginny answered softy. She raised up on tip-toe, pressed one hand to his cheek and kissed him softly on the mouth. Harry nearly fell over when he realized she was gently nibbling his lower lip.

"Dean." Harry shook his head. "I mean, aren't you and Dean...?"

Ginny shook her head. "Hush, Harry."

* * *

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