86 A Game

The following day after breakfast, I made my way to the one class I was a little wary of, Defense Against the Dark Arts. Upon entering the dimly-lit classroom, my senses were assaulted by the pungent smell of garlic. The aroma was so intense I could taste the spice on my tongue.

Looking around, I noticed cloves of garlic hanging all over the walls. If that wasn't bad enough, in the far corner, heavy incense smokers were burning. The incense that was burning conflicted severely with the garlic and produced an awful smell that made my eyes water.

As I made my way to my seat I noticed Professor Quirrell and his purple turban sitting at his desk in the front of the room. I wasn't quite sure what to expect from him. The books always described him as a stuttering coward, but I knew that was just a clever mask hiding his true self. But, as he sat there nervously eyeing each student like they might be a monster in disguise that was out to get him. I had to admit. He was committed to his role.

After giving the matter some thought, I realized I shouldn't dismiss the danger that Professor Quirrell represented. Being skilled enough to break into Gringotts shows that he was not to be underestimated. Not to mention one of the most powerful wizards of our age is currently residing in the back of his head.

Regardless, all I had to do was stay out of his way, and Harry would end up taking care of him. I wasn't going to get involved in that mess. Besides, if Harry was going to take down Voldemort in the future, it was vital for him to get his feet wet when he was younger.

"N-n-now that everyone's here, we can begin." Professor Quirrell stammered

Next to me, Roger raised his hand and asked without being called on, "Professor Quirrell, what's with all the garlic?"

Professor Quirrell looked around nervously like he was afraid of being overheard, "V-v-vampires." He muttered.

Not satisfied with Professor Quirrell's response, Jessica interjected, "But, everyone knows that vampires fearing garlic is a myth."

Professor Quirrell shook his head as if it would ward off Jessica's statement. "T-t-that's not true," he defended. "O-o-once I used garlic to great effect as I tracked a vampire in the most eastern part of Europe."

With a quiver, he added, "F-f-fearsome creature."

His voice lowered to a near whisper, "Even with the protection Hogwarts offers, I suspect the creatures brethren are hunting me."

I struggled not to roll my eyes at Professor Quirrell's performance. His pale and frightened complexion might as well shout that there was no way on earth that he was brave enough to face a vampire. My classmates' faces were torn between disbelief and concern that our new teacher was half-mad with fear. A heavy sigh escaped me. This was going to be a long year.

With no one in the class willing to call out Professor Quirrell on his unbelievable fears, he launched a lecture on what the course would be covering throughout the year.

Most of what he said, I promptly ignored. I was having a little trouble focusing. I was distracted by the fact that the world's foremost expert in Legilimency was currently residing in Quirrell's head and was only ten feet away from me. While I was at the point where I could maintain my mental shields without concentrating on them. I dedicated most of my mental energy to making sure my shields were completely impenetrable, and I made a mental note to study up on Legilimency.

I let out a sigh of relief when class was over. At first, I was sure I hadn't felt anything brush up against my shields. But, as I left the classroom, I thought I heard a faint voice whisper within my mind, "Interesting."

Glancing back, I saw Professor Quirrell facing the blackboard. A small part of my mind reminded me that Voldemort was looking in my direction since his back was turned to me. The thought made the hairs on my neck stand, warning me that a predator was secretly watching me. Forcing down a nervous gulp, I turned and left the class.

Outside the classroom, Roger caught up to me and whispered, "What was Dumbledore thinking when he put Quirrell in charge of Defense Against the Dark Arts? He's afraid of his own shadow. How will he teach us to defend ourselves against the Dark Arts and every other foul creature out there?"

Since I was little weirded out by the voice in my head, I barely heard Roger's question. When he asked again, I thought about all the teachers we would be dealing with for the next five years and weakly joked, "Who knows? Maybe one day you will look back and remember Professor Quirrell's time here fondly."

Roger snorted in disbelief, "I doubt it."

As we pushed our way through other students, Roger asked, "Where are we headed next?"

I let out a teasing smirk, "We're headed to your favorite class, Potions."

Roger let out a pained groan, "Noooo. Anything but Potions."

I let out a murmur of sympathy. Roger sucked at potions. His biggest problem was his focus. When he got bored, his mind tended to wander off, and an unfocused mind in brewing potions was a recipe for failure.

Professor Snape loathed any and all mistakes. He seemed to take each one as a personal insult to his craft and had no problem lashing out at those he considered too lazy to follow directions.

"Maybe he'll be in a good mood," Roger hopefully said.

There was a bit of awkward silence as Jessica, and my other roommates looked away, not wanting to spoil Roger's unrealistic fantasy.

Personally, I couldn't help but have a sinking feeling that not only would Professor Snape not be in a good mood. After seeing the son of his childhood tormentor, who was by all accounts the spitting image of him, he would probably be in a particularly foul mood all year long.

Any hope Roger might have had died when he saw Professor Snape waiting in the dark, unused corner of the dungeon classroom. Already, the hints of his infamous glare showed as he kept one eye on the clock and the other on the door, no doubt hoping to snag a straggler or two. I shook my head. Only idiots arrived late to Potions. If you made that mistake, you only ever did it once.

Professor Snape's glare faded away in disappointment when everyone arrived on time. When the last-second ran out, he pointed his wand at the door, and it swung close with a bang.

"Who can tell me what the Wiggenweld Potion does?" Professor Snape snapped as he strode from the corner to loom threateningly over the class.

Next to me, Jessica unsurprisingly raised her hand. Which Professor Snape promptly ignored and turned away. He hated calling on her because she always answered with the textbook response. Disappointed, Jessica lowered her hand and looked like her puppy had just been kicked.

I shook my head. You would think after two years of abuse. She would change her tactics. But, Jessica could be just as stubborn as Professor Snape. In her mind, the perfect answer was the textbook answer.

Professor Snape glared at the rest of the class as if he was trying to force one of them to raise their hands by the sheer force of his will.

"No one," he remarked with a sharp edge in his voice.

Professor Snape's dark eyes glittered dangerously, and I knew our class was about two seconds from paying for it with a ton of homework. Since I didn't want to spend half my night writing a long pointless essay, I raised my hand.

I already knew everything about the Wiggenweld Potion because last year, I used about a dozen of them to save my life when I was dying.

After Professor Snape gave me the nod, I said, "The Wiggenweld Potion is a strong healing potion that can heal injuries."

Seeing the unimpressed look in Professor Snape's face, I knew he wasn't satisfied, so I went on, "While an effective healing potion, it's recommended to be careful when using it if you are seriously injured. The potion can cause a false sense of security, because while it can handle minor to medium injuries just fine. When it comes to major issues, it can only deal with surface problems, which may lead one to believe that it healed them. More than one witch or wizard drank a Wiggenweld and believed they were fine, only to die from their injuries later on."

As I explained the Wiggenweld Potion, I felt a flash of phantom pain in my lower spine. I couldn't help but think back to when the only thing keeping me alive was the vials of potions I had squirreled away. I can still remember the taste of mint and honey as I chugged each potion.

After realizing that I had stopped speaking, I forced the painful memories back into the deepest vault in my mind. Continuing on, I added, "Another curious use for the Wiggenweld potion is that it can be used as an antidote for a simple Sleeping Draught and the Draught of Living Death."

As I fell silent, Professor Snape seemed to accept my explanation because he turned and said, "Open your textbooks to page 52. I expect each of you to turn in a vial by the end of class."

Jessica shot me a competitive look that told me we would be competing against one another. Potions was one of the classes where she was pretty much as good as I was. She had the proper mental focus and attention to detail that is needed for potion-making. But, I wasn't too worried because I had an edge she didn't know about, I had brewed this potion a couple of dozen times and had mastered the process.

Under Professor Snape's watchful gaze everyone started scrambling for ingredients, Jessica nudged me with her elbow and whispered, "Alex, you're so going down today."

I gave her a teasing smirk and drawled, "Is that so? Cause I like my chances."

Her grin matched my own as she mischievously challenged, "Then you should be happy to make a wager."

"What did you have in mind?" I asked in an amused tone.

She pulled out a badge with a dark blue background and had the word Queen scripted in bronze.

I raised an eyebrow at the badge and asked, "Why would I want that?"

Wordlessly, she held out the badge for me to take. Once I had it in my hand, the word Queen faded away and was replaced by King.

A feeling of amusement tinged with something else I wasn't prepared to deal with arose within me.

"Alright," I said playfully, "Game on."

It took some time to gather all the ingredients, and even though I knew I had the steps memorized. I went ahead and opened my textbook to double-check the steps. While I was preparing, Jessica set up right next to me and gave me a whimsical smile like everything was going according to her plan.

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. I knew Jessica was up to something, I could practically smell it. When she saw my suspicious gaze, she widened her blue eyes and flashed me a look that pleaded her innocence.

Ha, nice try, Jessica. I wasn't falling for that innocent look. I knew better. I grew up with two sneaky little sisters.

From behind me, Professor Snape's impatient voice rang out, "Are you waiting for an invitation to get started, Mr. Fawley?"

The second Jessica smirked at me. Snape waspishly added, "That goes for you too, Miss Brooks."

Not wanting to piss off Professor Snape, I started brewing my potion. Jessica mirrored my actions, and I began to tune out the rest of the class as I focused on my brewing.

The trickiest part of brewing a Wiggenweld Potion was the waiting. Several steps in the brewing process involve heating the potion over periods of time and waiting for it to turn to a specific color. If one gets distracted, it's easy to miss the change and ruin everything.

"Nervous," she whispered in a low voice.

Unwilling to take my eyes off my potion, I fired back, "Not one bit."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed she had drawn close. I decided to keep a close eye on her hands. It wasn't unheard of for Ravenclaws to sabotage one another. After all, we do tend to take our academic competitions seriously.

"Whatever you're planning, it's not going to work." I promised.

She brushed up against me and whispered into my ear, "Are you sure?"

I could feel a slight burning in my cheeks as my thoughts wandered in a direction that I promised I would stay away from. When Jessica saw me blush, she gave me a cheshire cat grin as she moved back towards her potions. I couldn't help but have the feeling that we were playing two different games.

When it came time for us to compare our potions, we each held up a vial of our work. Both our potions were turquoise, but mine was just a hair off. I glared at Jessica's smile and accused, "You cheated."

"Did I?" She said innocently. "I didn't do anything."

I glowered at her teasing smile that told me she knew exactly what I was talking about. I wasn't willing to say it out loud because admittance felt like a trap. Either way, I think I was outplayed today. But, that's ok, I'm a quick study. If Jessica wanted to play, she would find out I was more than capable of learning the game.

"Next time that badge is mine," I warned.

Her satisfied smile at my reply set off a little alarm in my head. I had a feeling I just walked into another trap, but I wasn't quite sure where it was. I gave her one last suspicious glance, before I turned my vial in.

On our way to the dungeon, I asked, "Alright, it seems like we will be doing this again. So, how about we lay down some ground rules?"

Jessica's blue eyes peeked at me through her dark hair. "Fine," she said. "Rule one, only one challenge per week allowed."

I narrowed my gaze, but after giving it a moment of thought, I said, "Agreed. But, no two challenges in a row can be in the same subject."

This time it was Jessica's turn to narrow her eyes. This rule clearly favored me because I was way ahead of her in Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

She reluctantly nodded her agreement and countered, "Fine, but every class is on the table.

I smiled at her and said, "I guess that means it's game on."

She smiled back at me and teased, "Well, since I won the first round. For the next week, you can consider me to be your Queen."

Once again, her words sent my thoughts wandered off. I was so distracted that I crashed right into a statue of armor and tumbled down to the floor. She erupted in peals of laughter and said with a coltish smile, "If you want me to call you, King, you'll need to watch your step."

Turning, she left me behind and sauntered away towards her roommates, who were giggling at me.

I shook my head and pushed myself off the floor. As I made my way to the next class, I took the long way around so I could walk alone. I needed some time to think and come up with a strategy. Whatever game Jessica was playing, I was planning on winning. Next time, she would be all mine.

It's a little embarrassing to admit that it never occurred to me that by playing at all, I had already fallen into her trap.