Missed the previous installment? Here you go!
On my long and nearly fruitless search for non-alcoholic Harry Potter-themed drinks, I came across the witch’s brew. This charming-sounding recipe has many incarnations, but the one I found comes from Taste of Home.
The recipe is simple enough to follow, though I didn’t include the vodka. The only vodka in my home is some awful blood orange liquid from Holland and an airplane bottle of nasty vanilla Absolut which I’m planning to kill the next time I make mulled wine. (Be quiet, I’ll make mulled wine my way.) I’m still early on in the project that I don’t feel the need to request spiritual help in liquid form.
Ginger ale by itself is a mellow drink and it pairs well with alcohol. Perhaps I should have gone with the vodka after all because the kiwi as the other main ingredient was a bad idea. The fruit overpowers the ginger ale flavor and adds a pulpy frothiness that made it feel like I’d licked a sopping granny square blanket. The green, frothy look is fun, but the taste and texture ruin the whole experience. Vodka may have improved the taste by a margin. I found that if the drink sits for a while, the texture improves. It feels more like pulpy orange juice, which I don’t mind at all.
With our new drink in hand, let’s tackle the second installment of Draco Dormiens.
Chapter Two: Harry at the Manor
We open this chapter not with Harry at Malfoy Manor, but with Draco hanging out on the Quidditch practice field. Besides having the adoration of people he doesn’t care for, Draco-as-Harry also has the prized possession of the Boy Who Lived: the Firebolt. The sports broom has earned Harry the envy of many students, Draco included, so Pretty Boy here is going to draw practice out as long as possible, I’ll bet.
A girl in blue robes approaches and sits beside him on the grass, ruining Draco’s “getting the feel of it.” (I’m sure, what with how he’s practically fondling the Firebolt by now.) The girl chirps Harry’s name over and over, trying to get his attention, to which Draco responds, “Yes? Did you want something?”
*sucks air through teeth* Bad opening.
Cho asks Not-Harry why he hasn’t been bugging her for attention for the past two days. It’s like having a life outside of obsessing over her is preposterous. (The story hasn’t mentioned her by name yet, but I know it’s Cho. I remember her from the Half-Blood Prince movie. I also looked ahead in the story.)
Not a bad summary of Harry’s life at Hogwarts, actually.
You should read how Clare describes Cho. (I’d post more screencaps, but I don’t want this post to wind up like the last one; it would take eons to load.) Cho is now staring at Not-Harry, jaw dropped and looking “much less pretty that way.” Either Clare hates this character or she’s pandering to the general Harry Potter fandom. Considering her background in tabloid journalism, I’m going with the latter.
Draco shoots her down, adding, “I’m really famous, I could go out with anyone.” Enraged, Cho storms off the field, leaving Draco alone to do some heavy petting with the Firebolt. You know, Cho, I hear Neville is charming after the initial awkwardness.
That’s right, I’m Team Choville. Fight me on it.
Meanwhile…
He might have been upset, but there also might have been a few things about her that he didn’t care for, like the way she scraped her teeth with her nails after eating, singing Hanson songs under her breath, asking Harry’s owls to clip off her hangnails before sending them back…
And we’re back at the field where Draco is kicking ass—at Quidditch, that is. Swooping and cutting turns isn’t the disaster he’d feared since he also inherited Harry’s special flying talent. Okay, I can understand having Harry’s nearsightedness because it’s a physical trait, but Harry’s broom flying skills? Draco’s brain must have changed to adopt muscle memory and other scientific mumbo jumbo I can’t explain because I’m not STEM material (I got a C in Physics).
But can all those moves be inherited through muscle memory alone? Should he have inherited Harry’s personal memories? What about tastes? Will certain foods taste awful to him now? How much of Draco still exists in his own brain if it’s even his own brain anymore? What does this mean for Harry? Why wasn’t there fanfic about that “what if”?
Anyway, Hermione is not at all hiding her admiration as she loudly cheers on Not-Harry. Hellspawn George hits the Bludger, which naturally goes on a trajectory toward Hermione. Draco dashes to the rescue, catching the small missile in the gut. He goes down, and I’m sure this will result in a trip to the infirmary where Pomfrey will give him a sleeping potion.
After some head pats from random girls and effusive apologies from the hellspawn, Draco gets dragged off by Hermione. This is pathetic. How many more times is she going to not show her obvious affection for the speccy git until they share their first kiss? According to fanfic rules, that could drag on for several more chapters…
Or they could do it right in the second chapter. Whoa! That came out of left field, or the Quidditch equivalent of that phrase.
Tempted as she is to give in to the kiss, Hermione pushes Not-Harry away. At least Clare resisted having them make out this early.
Please, Draco could have said a lot of things. “Duh?” “What?” “Huh?” So on.
Hermione won’t have it. She doesn’t want to be teased and there’s Cho to think about. Poor Cho, who doesn’t reciprocate Harry’s feelings but sure does love the attention. Draco seems amazed that Cho would have acted so attention-hungry toward Harry and decides that he’ll defuse the situation right there.
DRACO: I was only going to say that she’s not even popular in the fandom! Look at how she was written in the second to last section. No big loss, and it’s one less character we have to bother with in this ordeal.
Well, I’ll be. There are winged pigs nesting in the tree outside my window.
Ron catches up with the duo like the third wheel so many fanfic writers wish he’d been in the official books. He’s all chuckles and yuks as he congratulates Not-Harry for “destroying” Goyle earlier. “Destroyed is a little strong,” Draco says.
DRACO: No, it’s more like I planted the seeds for debilitating psychoses that may render him incapable of properly functioning in society as an adult. Much gentler.
Hermione quickly dashes off to the library, claiming that she has to study. Draco covers for her when Ron inquires about her sudden need to dive into the books. How out of character, right? Draco covers for her with a white lie about being nervous about an upcoming test, and he strangely feels guilty about it. I bet it burns his insides. (Kind of like the witch’s brew for me. Don’t know if I’ll be using kiwi that way again.)
The boys return to Gryffindor Tower where Draco receives some more obligatory Harry praise. Draco must receive glares when he returns to Slytherin Tower, because he’s clearly not used to people being kind to him. So he takes off to rifle through Harry’s family album where he watches photos of his enemy’s parents waving and smiling at him.
Ugh, this might actually get touching. Let’s briefly check up on Hermione, who’s all kinds of angsty over Not-Harry kissing her.
Maybe content or satisfied? Perhaps perturbed. Maybe just a touch constipated.
She knew the way he belched after overeating, how his nostrils sounded when stuffed up, how he snored during deep sleep, the precise hour at which he visited the boys’ lavatory in the morning, and the tune of his flatulence. She knew Harry so well.
But that kiss… This isn’t like Harry at all! Why, he even smells different. “Like pepper.” And I have to ask, but if the boys had switched everything except personalities, how can they smell different? Did they retain their scent glands? Draco did adopt Harry’s sweet flying moves, but how can they take on specific traits except for scent and how much of their brains are now dedicated to the new boy’s unique traits and how much has been retained and wasn’t the Polyjuice potion supposed to just change a person’s appearance, but what about their insides, and AUGH, I HATE THIS STORY.
And is pepper such an evil scent that it needs to be associated with Draco? In any case, she berates herself. “You’ve been in love with Harry for years, so what if he changed his cologne?”
HERMIONE: Who cares if he’s wearing Brut? I can still love him. I think.
At dinner, Draco muses over how nobody has caught on yet and how much he strangely enjoys being Harry Potter. Even kissing Hermione was great. But the horrible thought of being Harry Potter forever eats at him. To which I ask: What’s the deal? What’s not to love? Eternal popularity, fans fawning over you, free gifts, sponsorships, excellent Quidditch skills? There is that whole Voldemort thing, I guess. I don’t think even No-Nose would abide a follower looking like this greatest enemy.
Hermione notices. “What’s wrong? You look a million miles away.”
DRACO: Really? I thought I looked handsome.
(I know I’m probably nitpicking, but shouldn’t it be “1,609,344 kilometers”?)
Unable to handle the anxiety anymore, Draco bolts for the infirmary where he meets the anti-Florence Nightingale. Exercising legendary bedside manner as always, Pomfrey snaps, “What’s wrong, Potter, are you ill?” I bet she’s a doll when the students become violently ill and need to have their stomachs pumped, punching their tender bellies until all the sick has come up…
Draco asks to see Potter. And here’s the best line so far.
Pfft! Ha ha! Oh, lordy, I genuinely did laugh at this one.
Pomfrey expresses annoyance at Not-Harry believing that Not-Draco is dead—she was so clear in her statement, after all—and informs the little bugger that he’s been sent home.
DRACO: OW!
I’m giving Pomfrey a lot of grief, but being a medical professional, even one who uses magic, she should have realized that her choice of words would have implied that Not-Draco had died. Unless bedside manner is considered quaint in the wizarding world and having the talent to give patients knockout potion guarantees a medical career. At least she didn’t go into cosmetic surgery. She might have been breaking noses as a form of reconstructive surgery.
Speaking of the not yet dearly departed Potter, let’s see how he’s doing.
He’s resting well in Draco’s bed, in fact. He wakes up to a goth’s dream bedroom: unpolished stone walls leading up to a ceiling completely obscured in shadow and a four-poster bed with custom silver snakes on black velvet canopy. But it’s the wardrobe with Ms that clues him in, and he sits up to grab a handful of hair to yank it out and prove his worst suspicions.
Here’s a fun experiment. Grab (but don’t pull out) a handful of your own hair if you’re sporting any. That’s a lot, isn’t it? Harry-as-Draco should now have a bleeding bald spot.
Lucius Malfoy makes his loud entrance, clad in black, as is the Malfoy way. He drills Harry on who he is, and Harry, struck with mortal terror, wisely responds, “Draco Malfoy […] Your son.”
LUCIUS: There has never been any sleep deprivation, hangovers, or any other mental incapacitations that would cause a Malfoy to forget anything. It’s impossible.
Lucius’. This is a punctuation error that really gets my goat. I was taught that if a name ends in an S, you include another S to make that person’s name possessive. “Lucius’ face split into a cold smile” makes me think of a hydra-faced Malfoy Senior sharing a single smile. Brrr.
The next line is best read in the driest tone you can muster. “Well, since you’re here, we might as well have some fun.” Yes, Lucius “Funtimes” Malfoy. Do you think he makes Draco study the declension of obscure languages no longer in modern usage?
Harry has an even better line, best read in a fatalistic, “oh, boy, here we go” tone. “Great. He does believe I’m Draco, and he’s still going to hack me into bits.” Somehow I doubt Lucius would murder his own son unless there’s a generous insurance policy on the boy’s head. But we’ll see if I’m wrong on that. (The murder part, not the insurance.)
As Harry gets out of bed, his feet touch the ice-cold stone floor. I guess in addition to believing that non-wizards are the scum of the earth, the Malfoys don’t believe in carpets or rugs. Lucius more or less shrugs off Not-Draco’s reaction and glides off to wherever they’re supposed to go.
HARRY: Can I maybe get slippers?
LUCIUS: No Malfoy has ever had cold feet.
Along the way, Harry gets a glimpse at the rogues gallery responsible for the Malfoy lineage. “[A] few hags, some very pretty women who were definitely veela […] some rather pale men who were probably vampires, and a rather unpleasant-looking wizard who was pictured riding an enormous spider whose bridle was fastened around its poison-dripping pincers.” Man, the Malfoys will sleep with anything.
Lucius takes Not-Harry into a room lined with moving tapestries. “Angry-looking wizards ran at each other, using their wands to decapitate, disembowel, and set fire to their victims.” There’s even a goblin brandishing a flaming sword chasing his victim throughout the tapestries. Draco’s Saturday morning cartoons, I’ll bet. I can see him sitting there, cross-legged, a giant bowl of cereal in his lap and spooning heaps of wizard cereal into his open, grinning mouth. (What kind of names do you think wizard cereals would have? I’m imagining Snafloot Diddilydum’s Dragon-Os.)
Lucius remarks that he had gotten the tapestries cleaned because “the blood was starting to look quite dull and not at all shiny.” With that mildly horrifying tidbit out in the open, Lucius tosses Harry a rapier. “En garde.”
Everyone knows blood can’t be cleaned up! That’ll show Lucius!
But another wizard strolls in, sparing Harry a pointless death and the chance to have his blood restore the tapestries. I get the feeling Clare realized she’d have to look up fencing rules and moves and then had this character barge in to save herself the effort.
The new wizard is Walden Macnair (but Clare spells it “McNair”), one of Lucius’s associates and a Death Eater. He’s come with some news but stops when he sees Not-Draco.
Wanting Draco to attend Hogwarts because it’s closer to home, sending him treats every day during his first year? What kind of a mother dotes on her son like that? Bonkers!
Macnair isn’t sure if he should announce the news to Lucius, but Malfoy Senior brushes it off. “You can say anything in front of Draco. He is entirely obedient to me.”
LUCIUS: This year he learned to hold the treat on his nose while standing perfectly still.
For a villainous type—especially one who would take joy in the thought of killing Buckbeak the Hippogriff—Macnair thinks better of Draco than Lucius. He even asks Not-Draco how he’s doing in school and if he’s “spreading the word of the Dark Lord.” I know he’s probably saying this with sinister overtones (hiiiisssss), but I like the idea of a very polite homicidal miscreant. I also like the image of dour-faced wizards with grimoires tucked under their robes, going door to door and asking wizards if they have a moment to talk about their Dark Lord and Chief Death Eater.
If wizard rap isn’t a thing, I want someone to make it so. And make “kill Muddy” a catchphrase.
Oh, that Harry and his trademark cutting sarcasm.
Dun-dun-DUUUUNNN.
Now it gets good… I hope.
Prep Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Cleanup
