"Bloody brilliant, Katerina," the twins high-fived me as we stepped out of the classroom. "We never knew you could create a Patronus," Fred remarked.

Well because you always underestimate me, that's why.

"What was it by the way?" George asked, "looked like an eagle to me."

"It's a Thunderbird," I replied.

They stared at me for a while, "you know what form your Patronus takes already? Or have you tried it before and this wasn't your first time?"

I replied casually, "yeah, it wasn't my first time."

George remarked, "you never fail to surprise us."

Well get used to it then, "life is full of surprises."

"What we don't get is," Fred began, "that how do you know such a lot about magic? An year ago we had to distinguish gnomes and goblins for you and yet now you are creating Patronuses and playing Wizarding Chess quite perfectly."

"I really miss those time you lost to us in Chess," George mused, "sometimes, we're bound to think that you've lived a past life as a wizard or whatever and have now come back to life."

"Reincarnated, you mean?" Perhaps, who knows? "Ask Professor Trelawney," I admitted, "she's almost convinced that I'm the reincarnation of her great grandma Cassandra Trelawney; greatest seer of her time."

And yes, she does think that despite being able to have access to the unknown (or so she claims).

***

Next class... Snape.

I practically slapped my hand on my head in frustration. Snape had given us a shit load of homework for the Summer Break on various potions and their ingredients.

Good thing I managed to persuade Perce into helping us with it or else after a few minutes we would be shamed in front of the whole class. Not implying that Snape won't do it again now because our homework is complete, he would just find another means of deducting points and disgracing us.

Talk about being a prejudiced Slytherin teacher.

Anyhow we did find some important things for our Weasley Wizard Wheezes (WWW) inventions such as the use of a bezoar as an effective antidote to poisoning and the wonderful properties of murtlap.

Fred and George have been trying to get their hands on Snape's stock of mandrake leaves for a while now claiming that they need it for the finishing touch to their Maddening Pills variety.

God knows what the pills do because I made them swear on their merchandise not to ever test those things on me (not even by accident, because I happen to have a fair idea of how many things happen around then by accident of course).

When we stepped inside the classroom, we were unexpectedly not late. Don't blame me, there are actually a lot of things which are distracting enough against potions so yeah, we usually get hold up. Bu not today. We were quite on time.

A little bit early even, I must say.

Snape entered and everyone grew silent. Quite expected.

"Today, we shall be brewing the Draught of Peace," he announced in his gloomy voice. Well, the one thing slightly out of routine (other than our early arrival) was that he had directly started the lesson. No insults at first.

Great. That can mean two things.

1. Either he is in a good mood.

2. Or he's extremely pissed off at someone else and thus has temporarily forgotten to treat us as scum since he's probably directing his anger at said other person.

And yes, I agree with the latter. Most likely to happen since Professor Severus Snape can never ever be in a good mood. That's almost as impossible as Dumbledore without a beard or Hagrid gone bald.

Or Sirius not flirting when in close vicinity of the opposite gender. Or both, one could never be certain. Thinking of Sirius...

"Resorted to daydreaming again, have you, Miss Weasley?" The sharp voice almost made me jump startled out of my wits.

Snape was standing right in front of my desk, his dark eyes piercing through me. Uh oh... I do remember what must have got him so angered... Seems like he knows it was I who traveled back in time, punched him on the nose, nearly got him killed and dated Sirius Black.

All Hell is gonna break loose.

"Sorry, Professor," I mumbled.

Indeed, sorry. I mean it wasn't absolutely anywhere near my fault if he couldn't stop behaving like a git and a super qualified spy.

"50 points from Gryffindor," he sneered, "next time I see you distracted, I'll make it 500."

Yup, that's not fair but I may as well keep silent for now. Might get him back for it later. George was glancing at me sympathetically from the other corner of the room. Fred was seated at the corner exactly opposite. See, the three of us aren't even allowed to sit together in Snape's class.

Too much boredom, to be honest.

"Since no one of you seems intelligible enough to answer my questions, I will myself tell you what exactly is a Draught of Peace."

...Too much sarcasm as well...

"The Draught of Peace is a potion which relieves anxiety and agitation. Its ingredients are powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, powdered porcupine quills, and powdered unicorn horn. It should be a turquoise blue when finished and simmered before being consumed."

When the potion got ready, I knew it was a big mistake. God have mercy on me then. It didn't quite have the described color. Instead of a turquoise blue simmer, the draught was a of a slight greenish tinge. And a sulphuric smell lingered about it instead of the light silvery vapor as stated in the book.

I'm quite sure I followed all the instructions.

Or did I?

I glanced over at the Hufflepuff who I had been paired with and he, too, looked as confused as I was. Honestly, what could possibly go wrong?

"You missed the porcupine quills that have to be added at the end of the potion." An unmistakable voice reached our ears and both of us turned around to see a rather tight lipped Snape.

Me and Diggory, I guess that's his name (could have been mistaken), braced ourselves for the inevitable.

And as expected, the next remaining half hour was pure torture with mortally offensive insults thrown our way and the penalty of doing extra homework for a whole week thrust upon us. Besides we also lost a couple hundred points each.

We are rather used to it. Snape has always been bellowing at us by the end of the class and making a point on how mentally retarded we all are. And how unlucky he is to be teaching us. (Trust me, the feeling is mutual).

As soon as we got the chance, me and the twins dashed out from the dungeons hurrying up to the castle. The curses of our potionsmaster were still echoing in the background. God knows, I won't even get an Acceptable in the OWLs exams.

***

Usually after suffering the incessant torture Snape inflicted on us every single day, we were so drained out that we had to get a gulp of fresh air in order to cleanse our brains of the insulting words and degrading sermons.

So, out of routine, the twins suggested going out to the grounds before attending the Charms class. Luckily for us, Professor Flitwick happens to be the most compassionate teacher known to wizardkind. And he wouldn't probably mind if we came five minutes late.

On the way to the grounds, however, we were met by a mind blowing spectacle.

"Oi, looks like Malfoy finally decided to leave the world for good," Fred remarked.

Hagrid was carrying Malfoy in his arms bridal style, while the little bride was wailing in distress, "my arm, my precious arm! It's killed me, the bloody chicken has killed me!"

Wait, what?

"Hey, Malfoy," I called out to him as Hagrid walked past us (probably taking him to the Hospital Wing), "I don't get why you're so worried. It's absolutely normal for a worm to get killed by a chicken, isn't it?"

A few intended titters erupted from the bystanders and definitely he must have been blushing bright red by now.

"Hypothetically speaking, Malfoy would make a nice and coy bride in future," George whispered to us and I couldn't help but start laughing on that.

Imagining him in a frilly white bridal gown was exactly what was need to brighten up our mood.

By evening, the whole school knew about Malfoy getting attacked by Buckbeak the Hippogriff. Its a wonder really, how in a matter of a few hours, the topic of poor injured Malfoy made it to the top of the student gossip headlines. All of us had had a good laugh about it such that the rest of the day had passed in absolute humor. 

And even though later on, Oliver had called us for the renowned motivational Quidditch speech (95% of which consisted of him brooding on how we could still not be able to get the Cup), the mirth lingered on and all of us knew Malfoy was in for a whole lot of teasing.

He better be prepared for the inevitable.

***