Chapter 27: Professor Dumbledore Wants to See Me?

The entire weekend, Slytherin was steeped in a thick atmosphere of studying. First-year students were practically glued to their books, memorizing the steps for brewing the Forgetfulness Potion like their lives depended on it. Older students, meanwhile, were holed up in the library, huddled around Edward's copy of Powerful Potions. They quickly realized, though, that no matter how hard they studied, they couldn't fully grasp the book's contents before its duplicated pages turned blank. So, they switched from studying to copying, at least ensuring the notes wouldn't fade away. As for Edward, when he wasn't helping classmates duplicate pages, he poured all his time into researching the Troll Strength Potion. He had the brewing method down pat, but the materials? That was a problem. The Troll Strength Potion, as the name suggests, relies on troll-based ingredients. The two key components are fresh troll nasal mucus and troll toenail powder. Not only did the idea make Edward's stomach churn, but sourcing them was a headache. Sure, he might find nasal mucus extract or toenail powder in Diagon Alley, but "fresh"? No chance. Where on earth was he supposed to get fresh troll snot? He wasn't about to ask his parents to trek to the mountains of Liechtenstein to fetch some. That was way too dangerous. Nope, Edward scrapped that idea immediately. He had to handle this himself, not keep relying on his parents. After some thought, he figured there were two viable options: ask Hagrid, who seemed to know a thing or two about this stuff, or ask Snape. If neither of them had the materials, he'd have to figure something else out. Surely he couldn't count on a troll conveniently rampaging through the castle, right? Weekends always flew by in a blur. While students usually dragged their feet during class days, the next week was different. First-years were starting Flying Lessons, one of the few classes almost everyone looked forward to. The only downside for some was that it was a mixed-class with other houses, and Slytherin was paired with Gryffindor. Draco Malfoy seemed to regain his pre-Hogwarts swagger, boasting to anyone who'd listen about touching a broomstick at three, flying in his family's grand 10-meter-high hall at four, and nearly crashing into a Muggle helicopter at eight. Of course, he wasn't the only one spinning tales. Almost every boy from a wizarding family bragged about their flying exploits, most stories ending with narrowly avoiding some kind of Muggle aircraft. Aside from students who'd never touched a broomstick, the only one not joining the boasting was Edward. "You're not acting like a typical 11-year-old boy," Daphne said, throwing a disdainful glance at the boys showing off in the distance. "Don't tell me you've never ridden a broomstick?" she teased. Daphne felt a rare sense of superiority, knowing she might finally outshine Edward in something, even if Flying was her weakest subject. Edward just smiled and didn't respond. He could see right through his classmates. The boys were mostly exaggerating, and Malfoy's claim of flying at four was pure nonsense. Edward, though, had actually flown early on—by accident. When he was four, his father, William, had secretly taken him for a quick spin on his broom, forgetting Edward was still on it when he landed. Edward ended up steering the broom around Bedivere Manor for five minutes. That incident ended with William too scared to come home for a month, thanks to Anri's fury. Maybe it was his Round Table Knight lineage, but Edward preferred the idea of riding horses or winged creatures—like hippogriffs, thestrals, or even dragons—over broomsticks. How could riding a broom make you a knight? Still, humble as he was, he didn't feel the need to brag, especially since it might discourage those who'd never flown, like Neville, whose grandmother never let him near a broom, or Hermione, who was desperately studying Quidditch Through the Ages for tips, with Neville trailing her like a shadow, hoping to pick up a trick or two to stay on his broom. The Great Hall's chatter drowned out other sounds—until the rustle of wings cut through. The owl post had arrived. Edward instantly spotted his family's owl, Caesar, a sharp-eyed eagle owl, one of the largest among the flock. He got letters from his parents almost weekly, usually with a few sweets tucked in. Most students received similar mail, and those subscribed to the Daily Prophet got their newspapers now. "Neville, you got a Remembrall!" A shout from the Gryffindor table drew everyone's attention. Neville was holding a clear glass orb. Edward knew from books that if red smoke filled the orb, it meant you'd forgotten something. Sure enough, red smoke swirled inside the orb. "What did I forget? I can't even remember what I forgot!" Neville said, bewildered. "Look at that idiot, can't even remember he's wearing his robes inside out. Watch this!" Malfoy said with a smirk, sauntering over and snatching the Remembrall from Neville, tossing it between his hands. "Hey! Give it back!" Neville lunged, but Crabbe and Goyle blocked him. "Malfoy, give it back!" Harry and Ron jumped up, furious. "If you want it, come get it. You know how this works," Malfoy taunted, grinning behind his cronies, unaware of another figure approaching. It wasn't Edward, though he was close—two steps away from Malfoy, moving fast. But Snape had appeared out of nowhere. Harry, Ron, and Neville froze, not wanting to give Snape a reason to dock points. Even Malfoy seemed wary. Snape had warned him early on to watch his behavior. Malfoy had only meant to mess around, not do anything worse, and he'd even checked Edward's position in the hall. Yet, in the span of two sentences, Edward had nearly reached him without Malfoy noticing. "Is this a miniature Quidditch match, gentlemen?" Snape sneered, towering over them. "Professor, Malfoy took Neville's Remembrall," Edward explained, speaking for Neville, who was trembling and could barely stand. "Bedivere, this doesn't seem to concern you. Best not to meddle," Snape said. "Malfoy, return the item to Longbottom. If he dies because he forgot something, the school might consider you the prime suspect." Harsh as the words were, the matter was settled. Malfoy tossed the Remembrall back, almost relieved at Snape's intervention. Otherwise, he was sure Edward would've made him regret it. Malfoy opened his mouth to badmouth Harry or Ron, but Snape's gaze wasn't on him. "Bedivere, come with me. Dumbledore wants to see you," Snape said, turning to Edward.