Chapter 1

2.5K 65 15
                                    


Prologue

"No one can help me," said Malfoy. His whole body was shaking. "I can't do it ... I can't ... it won't work ... and unless I do it soon ... he says he'll kill me ..."

And Harry realised, with a shock so huge it seemed to root him to the spot, that Malfoy was crying - actually crying - tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy basin. Malfoy gasped and gulped and then, with a great shudder, looked up into the cracked mirror and saw Harry staring at him over his shoulder. Malfoy wheeled round, drawing his wand. Instinctively, Harry pulled out his own ...

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" bellowed Harry from the floor, waving his wand blindly.

Blood spurted from Malfoy's face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backwards and collapsed on to the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling from his limp right hand. Slipping and staggering, Harry got to his feet and plunged towards Malfoy, whose face was now shining scarlet, his white hands scrabbling at his blood-soaked chest ... he fell to his knees beside Malfoy, who was shaking uncontrollably in a pool of his own blood.

--------------------

'I need a place to hide my book ... I need a place to hide my book ... I need a place to hide my book ...' Harry thought. Three times he walked up and down in front of the stretch of blank wall. When he opened his eyes, there it was at last: the door to the Room of Requirement. Harry wrenched it open, flung himself inside and slammed it shut.

--------------------

Harry hurried forwards into one of the many alleyways between all this hidden treasure. He turned right past an enormous stuffed troll, ran on a short way, took a left at the broken Vanishing Cabinet in which Montague had got lost the previous year, finally pausing beside a large cupboard which seemed to have had acid thrown at its blistered surface. He opened one of the cupboard's creaking doors: it had already been used as a hiding place for something in a cage that had long-since died; is skeleton had five legs. He stuffed the Half-blood Prince's book behind the cage and slammed the door.

--------------------

Chapter 1

Hermione was absolutely sick of Draco Malfoy. It was ridiculous. Ever since her first year at Hogwarts, she'd never really liked him. He was arrogant, egotistical, proud, pureblood-obsessed, Slytherin, cowardly, snide, mean and hurtful. He had disgusting, greasy slicked back blonde hair, dull cold grey eyes, and pale skin. Everything about him frustrated and revolted her. To make it worse, he seemed to hate her just as much as she hated him simply because she was a muggle-born. Add prejudiced to the list of attributes. But to top it all off, he was also intelligent. Although Hermione was the smartest witch of their age, always beating him in every test and exam, he was usually second best. In Potions he was almost just as good as her, though she blamed this on Snape for favouring Slytherin's more than everyone else. But there it was, and everyone knew it: Draco Malfoy was not stupid, he was the smartest Slytherin student at Hogwarts. His idiotic cronies Crabbe and Goyle were stupid, but he was not. And this only frustrated Hermione further. Perhaps if he was just like his cronies, saying things that he didn't fully understand or mean... she would be able to ignore him, but he wasn't like that. When he called her a mudblood he knew that it would hurt her feelings and he did it purposefully for that reason. Which, if possible, made it hurt even more.

Hermione was thinking about all of this whilst sitting in the library alone. Studying Potions, to keep ahead of the rest of the class. Mostly to keep ahead of Harry and Malfoy. They were in their sixth year and this of course meant that Harry had the 'Half-Blood Prince' textbook. He'd been getting every potion perfect for weeks on end, but that all stopped after he used the spell on Malfoy in the bathroom. After that Harry promised he'd thrown the book away, and his grades in potions deteriorated as proof of that. The fact that Malfoy was never far behind also frustrated Hermione though. Calling her a mudblood was one insult, but calling her stupid whenever he happened to beat her in a test... now that would get to her. That would get her where it hurt, right in her soft spot, and he knew this. The only things Hermione could pride herself in were her intelligence and her bravery. She wasn't pureblood and she didn't think she was beautiful. The only way she could insult Malfoy was by calling him an evil git, or insulting his inferior intelligence. Take away her intelligence and Malfoy would make her life hell. For some unknown reason it seemed like he was trying very hard to beat everyone that year. His behaviour was unusual. For one, his usually greased head of slick hair wasn't neat and tidy any more. It was ordinarily dry, blonde, ragged and untidy. He had black bags under his eyes, which meant that he wasn't sleeping much. Hermione feared that this meant he was studying more than her, which in turn caused her to study more as well. Hence the reason she was in the library right now, thinking of this and determinedly re-reading her Potions textbook.

The Soul ConnectionWhere stories live. Discover now