"How Marcus Flint Failed His NEWTs" by Redcandle17
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and elements from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.
Terrence Higgs burned with humiliation at being beaten at Quidditch by an eleven year old boy. That said boy was the savior of the wizarding world did nothing to lessen his embarrassment. Even after Harry Potter caught the snitch before the Hufflepuff seeker during Gryffindor's next game, Terrence's misery did not lessen. Oh, he was teased less frequently now, but that didn't erase the fact that he'd been defeated by a child. It was too much for the proud sixteen year old to handle.
He spent all summer flying, training for the next Quidditch season. He vowed to catch the snitch before Potter the next time. For his seventeenth birthday, he begged his parents for a Nimbus 2000. He even promised to do all the housework if only they'd buy him a new broom. They bought him the broom and he worked like a house-elf all summer – when he wasn't zooming through the air in the surrounding countryside. He'd been a good seeker before, but now he was a spectacular one.
Terrence was brimming with excitement when he boarded the Hogwarts Express. As soon as he put his trunk away, he hurried to find his fellow seventh year, Marcus Flint. The entire Slytherin Quidditch team had blamed Terrence for their loss to Gryffindor, but none of them had tormented him as mercilessly as Marcus had. Terrence was eager to prove to Marcus that he was a better seeker than the Boy-Who-Lived.
"I've been training all summer," he said breathlessly when he found Marcus. "I got a Nimbus 2000, too. There's no way Potter's getting the snitch before me this year."
Marcus did not look as pleased as he should at such news. In fact, he avoided Terrence's eyes. "That's great! We'll pummel the Gryffindors this year." His enthusiasm sounded forced.
Terrence frowned. That was hardly the reaction he'd been expecting. Maybe Marcus had had a troubled summer. Shrugging off Marcus's reaction at his good news as the result of personal problems, Terrence moved the conversation to inane speculation about their final year at Hogwarts. They agreed that the rumors about a midnight orgy to celebrate the summer solstice were probably false.
While he waited for the Sorting to end, Terrence recounted his summer regimen to the younger Chasers, Pucey and Montague. They all grimaced as they heard yet another Weasley being sent to Gryffindor.
"There's no end to them," Pucey wailed.
"Do you think there are even more of them?" Montague asked. "I swear, if only their parents had learned contraceptive charms, Hogwarts wouldn't be plagued with so many poor redheads."
"At least this new one is a girl," Pucey said.
"Why should that matter?" Terrence asked absently, willing his stomach to stop digesting itself in hunger. He hoped that old fool, Dumbledore, didn't make a long speech tonight.
"It matters," Pucey explained, "Because if she ends up on their Quidditch team, she can't hit as hard."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Montague grumbled. "Johnson nearly cracked my ribs last game."
"That was probably because you suggested she ride your broomstick instead of that old Cleansweep," Pucey replied.
Terrence tuned them out. He had no interest in discussing the Gryffindor chasers. As chasers, they had no interaction with him; and as girls, they were too young for him. The only Gryffindor who interested him was Harry Potter. He scanned the entire length of the Gryffindor table, looking for their seeker. Potter wasn't there. Terrence dared to hope that the old followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had killed the brat during the summer. His improbable - after all, if it had happened, it would have been all over the Daily Prophet - hope died when he heard the whispers about Potter's dramatic arrival. Apparently the Hogwarts Express wasn't good enough for him and he'd gotten to school by way of a flying car.
Later that night, as the Seventh Year Slytherin boys prepared for bed, Terrence turned to Marcus and asked, "So when are we beginning training?"
"It's the fucking first day of school, Higgs!" Marcus snapped. "The game isn't for two months yet." He pulled his bed curtains shut.
"What's his problem?" Terrence asked Richard Bode.
Richard shrugged. "It's Marcus. He doesn't need a reason to behave like a troll."
That was true, but Marcus had never directed his unprovoked anger at his Seeker before. Putting Marcus out of his mind, Terrence began to replay his favorite fantasy as he drifted to sleep. He was flying through the air…everyone and everything became a blur as he raced towards the snitch, Potter flailing behind him…the crowd cheering, not just his fellow Slytherins, but the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs as well.
"I need to talk to you," Marcus said, during breakfast.
Terrence looked up from his class schedule. "What about?"
"Not here. I don't want the other houses overhearing anything." Marcus stood and strode out of the Great Hall.
With a final, mournful look at his full plate of eggs and bacon, Terrence followed Marcus back to the deserted Slytherin common room. "Couldn't you have told me before breakfast?" he complained.
"You should have woken up earlier," Marcus replied. "Look, Lucius Malfoy's son has some personal grudge against Potter. Draco wants to prove he's better than Potter at Quidditch, and his father will provide new brooms for the entire team if he gets his way. Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones."
Terrence sat down abruptly. "You're telling me that the Malfoy kid wants to buy my spot." It had to be his spot, of course. Potter was a Seeker; Draco couldn't directly compete against him as anything but a Seeker. "Shouldn't I be the one being offered compensation instead of the team?"
Marcus sat beside him. "I'll sure Mr. Malfoy will remember it when you're applying for a job after school. His name on a letter of recommendation is worth more than ten N.E.W.T.s."
"Everyone benefits. Charming," Terrence said acidly. "Except, of course, Slytherin's chances of retaining the Quidditch Cup."
"Actually, Draco's quite a good flyer. He's as good as you are."
Terrence gritted his teeth. Was it now his fate to be beaten at everything by children? "And I couldn't beat Potter. Anyway, as I was telling you yesterday, I've gotten much better."
"Terrence, I'm not asking for your permission. Everything's been settled. The brooms were delivered to Professor Snape this morning."
"I see." He considered taking a swing at Marcus. Marcus wasn't nice enough to take the hit without retaliating though. And Marcus was much more solidly built than Terrence's own slender self. Curbing the impulse, he settled for using verbal blows. "It's always nice to see your ideas of friendship and loyalty in action, Marcus. I mean, most people would have turned down such an offer on principle. Or they would have at least informed their friend before he wasted his entire fucking summer."
Marcus jumped up from the sofa and began pacing. "Damn it, Terry. We're not Hufflepufffs! This isn't about loyalty. This is about increasing Slytherin's chances of winning. With new brooms for everyone, we can score enough points to make the snitch irrelevant."
He should have remembered which House he belonged to before he complained about fairness. He should have let the Sorting Hat put him in Ravenclaw. "Still, you could have told me." He sulked.
"I'm telling you now," Marcus snapped. He stormed out the room without a backward glance at his former Seeker.
Terrence stuck his hands in his pockets, trying to prevent himself from destroying the furniture. It wasn't fair. He'd spent all summer improving his flying. An entire summer wasted. It was all Marcus's fault. Well, the Malfoys had had a hand in it, but they were Malfoys. He was going to get his revenge on Marcus Flint before they left Hogwarts.
Physically assaulting Marcus was out of the question. Challenging him to a duel wasn't a good idea either. Marcus might not be the best student in the school, but he knew a wide variety of nasty hexes. Terrence had to settle for damaging Marcus's reputation.
The idea came to him as he was studying in the Slytherin common room one night in late September. He was reading the same paragraph in his Transfiguration textbook for the fourth time when his attention by caught by a group of sixth year girls sitting nearby.
"All right, so Marcus may not be as handsome as Lockhart," one of them said. "But he has such an incredible body."
One of the other girls scoffed. "Yeah, like you've ever seen his body."
"I can tell from the way his uniform fits him," said the first girl.
Recognizing a girl he'd dated briefly among the group and needing a break, Terrence ambled over to them. He stood behind his former girlfriend, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Ladies, I heard Flint's name mentioned and my curiousity was piqued."
The original speaker looked at him for a moment before boldly saying, "You've seen Marcus naked, right? In the locker room?"
Terrence grinned. Oh, this was just perfect. "Yes, I have." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I'm sad to report that rumors of Marcus's endowment were greatly exaggerated."
"You mean he's...small?" another girl asked, a dismayed look on her face.
"Yes," Terrence lied. "He's quite small."
His next opportunity to slander Marcus presented itself the very next day. He was walking pass the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room when he encountered a crying first year. He disliked children and seriously vowed that he would ever reproduce. Unfortunately his status as a prefect demanded that he tend to the child. He awkwardly patted the boy's back. "There, there. What's wrong?"
The boy hiccuped, trying to still his sobs. "I...a big boy stole my chocolate frogs."
"Was he a Hufflepuff?"
"Nn..no. I've never seen him at our table."
"What did he look like?"
"He was big and mean."
Inspiration struck. He sighed dramatically. "It was probably Marcus Flint. He's always bullying first years. Listen, avoid him and tell all your friends to stay far away from him, okay?"
The child nodded.
Terrence strolled away, snickering to himself. The boy probably had no idea what Marcus looked like and wouldn't until he saw the first Slytherin Quidditch game of the year. By then the damage would be done.
While the Slytherin Quidditch team trained hard for their upcoming match, Terrence used his free time to spread rumors about Marcus. Marcus was blamed when a first year Ravenclaw's frog was found flattened on the floor. Marcus was blamed when a third year Slytherin's cat when missing.
Terrence went to the Slytherin-Gryffindor game out of House loyalty. He refused to cheer though. It was a good game for Slytherin initially. One of the bludgers seemed fixated on Potter and both Gryffindor beaters abandoned the game to guard the Boy-Who-Lived. Bole and Derrick made good use of the remaining bludger, hitting the Gryffindor chasers so frequently that Terrence almost felt sorry for the girls. Then came the race for the snitch. Terrence grudgingly admitted that Malfoy was good. But he was no match for Potter. Potter caught the snitch and Gryffindor won the game.
Terrence had been half hoping for an apology from Marcus. None came. Marcus hardly talked to him anymore, except to say "Pass the salt" during meals. After waiting a week, Terrence needed revenge that was more blatant than making Marcus the boogeyman of first year students.
Terrence was studying for a Potions exam in the library when he noticed Oliver Wood at the next table. He had a flash of inspiration. Could he really do it though? Wasn't that a bit too extreme? No, he decided; Marcus deserved it.
He sidled over to Wood. Wood had a bunch of textbooks open, but his attention was on the scrap of enchanted paper displaying Quidditch strategies. "Wood," Terrence said, when Wood didn't appear to notice his presence.
"What is it, Higgs?" Wood's eyes remained glued to the paper.
"I don't want to be disloyal to my house, but it's just not right."
Wood looked up at him. "If you have something to say to me, just say it."
"It's about your chaser. The blonde one. She's a Third Year, right?"
"Yeah," Wood said cautiously. "What about Katie?"
"You have to swear you won't tell anyone I told you."
"I swear. Now what are you talking about?"
"Marcus has highly inappropriate feelings towards her. He told me about this dream he'd had the other night that was quite explicit."
Wood shot to his feet. "That sick bastard. Katie's thirteen!"
Before Madam Pince could reach Wood to yell at him, he was out of the library. Terrence counted to ten and followed him. He caught up to Wood outside the Great Hall.
"She's a little girl, you pervert," Wood was yelling at a puzzled Marcus.
"Wood, your little girlfriends are safe from me," Marcus said.
"Don't ever make me catch you trying anything with Katie. Don't even look at her."
Marcus had lost patience with Wood. "I'll look at the bitch if I want to, Wood. Don't fucking order me around."
Terrence saw Professor Flitwick approaching and edged away from the crowd around Marcus and Wood.
Wood shoved Marcus.
Marcus shoved him back hard enought to make him stumble.
Wood punched Marcus.
Marcus tackled Wood to the floor.
"Petrificus Totalus," Flitwick squeaked.
Terrence sprinted back to the library, laughing all the way.
When he saw Marcus later that evening in the Slytherin dungeons, he had a black eye and a week's worth of detention. Terrence joined the group listening to Marcus rant about crazy Gryffindor idiots and murmuring sympathetic noises. He did feel guilty later that night as he listened to Marcus in the Seventh Year boys's dormitory. Marcus was wondering aloud why Wood would think he was interested in a Third Year. He deserves it, Terrence reminded himself. Still, he refrained from spreading any more rumors about Marcus for the next two months.
After he returned from Christmas break, Terrence's desire to make Marcus suffer returned. Because of his house-elf-like behavior the previous summer, his parents now expected him to do housework whenever he was home. He'd only done the work to earn the new broom that was now worthless since he couldn't play competitive Quidditch. He renewed his campaign to destroy Marcus's reputation, but he had limited success now because there was so little left to destroy.
Practically all the First and Second Years, even the Slytherins, avoided Marcus like he was a troll. Not surprising since Terrence had hinted at Marcus's less than human ancestry where he was sure to be overheard. The rumors had seeped up to the older students, poisoning their perceptions of Marcus. Marcus was known throughout Hogwarts as a dangerous, violent bully and pervert. This was not a severe enough punishment in Terrence's opinion.
Terrence was trying to convince his current girlfriend to put away her Potions textbook when he thought of a new course of action for his revenge scheme.
Lavinia pushed him away, unswayed the kisses along her throat. "I have to study, Terrence! N.E.W.T.s are only five months away. If I fail my exams, I'll have to stay here another year and be the school laughingstock. You wouldn't want that, would you?"
"Of course not, baby." He kissed her forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow."
It was perfect. Terrence did a little dance, too gleeful to care about embarrassing himself. Oh, there wasn't anyone who deserved it more than Marcus Flint. All right, it was harsh. But Terrence had wasted his summer - his last summer as a student - and he wanted Marcus to suffer.
Having decided on a plan, Terrence began to work on the logistics. It would be tricky to make Marcus fail his N.E.W.T.s. He was an average student in even his worst subjects, and he was taking the exams seriously and studying more frequently. Terrence would need to make sure he was at less than his best on the days of the exams. He began to scour the library for spells and curses that could help him.
He would need be to be close to Marcus to sabotage his exams, so Terrence attempted to rekindle their friendship. It wasn't easy. Marcus had never been the most amicable of people, but now he was surly all the time.
"So, heard about those couple of mudbloods who were petrified yesterday? I wonder who did it," Terrence said casually, sitting beside Marcus as if they had said more than five words to each other during the past two months. He hoped Marcus would at least answer him this time.
"Last I heard it was Potter," Marcus replied. He scowled. "SOME people would probably have tried to blame it on me, but conflicting rumors have me forcing myself on Filch's cat at that same time."
Terrence didn't bother trying to conceal his amusement. He grinned at Marcus. "Didn't think that was the kind of pussy you liked."
Marcus didn't smile. He was obviously hurt by his new reputation. "What do you want, Higgs?"
"I don't want anything, Marcus. Look, we're leaving Hogwarts soon. I'm just trying to be mature. I shouldn't have thrown away our friendship over a stupid game." Terrence thought he sounded quite sincere - must be the practice from lying to his parents all those years.
Marcus chuckled. "Wood would murder you if he heard you calling Quidditch stupid." With that, their friendship was reborn.
Terrence felt guilty. He did after all have a conscience. But his desire for revenge was stronger than his conscience. His sense of self-preservation also added to his inner turmoil, reminding him that Marcus would murder him if he found out. But he was planing to apply to the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He already had Lucius Malfoy's letter of recommendation attached to his resume, which he intended to owl to the Ministry as soon as he received his N.E.W.T. results. He should be safely in Sweden by the time Marcus figured out what had happened and who was responsible.
Marcus's first N.E.W.T. was Charms, which Terrence was also taking. His plan to make Marcus fail this exam was quite simple. He kept his wand in his lap, pointed at Marcus, and muttered, "Confundus" every five minutes. Marcus would write nonsense on his paper, then after the spell wore off, he'd frantically try to correct it. Hopefully Marcus wouldn't answer enough questions to pass the exam.
"I feel like a fucking Hufflepuff," Marcus complained afterward. "I thought I knew the right answers, but then I wasn't sure. Then I realized my first choices were right."
For History of Magic, Terrence cast the Lingua Alienus spell on Marcus as soon as their exam papers were in front of them. Marcus would write all his answers in a foreign language he didn't actually know and not even be aware of it. The result would be sheets of gibberish. Terrence had to suppress his laughter as he imagined the elderly examiners reading Marcus's paper.
"Ha," Marcus said triumphantly. "That one was perfect. I knew almost all the answers."
Terrence didn't take Muggle Studies, which was Marcus's third exam. During breakfast, on the morning of the exam, he poured a small vial of Sophismataserum into Marcus's cup of orange juice, Sophismataserum was the opposite of Veritaserum; instead of being truthful, it compelled people to be dishonest. This one was Terrence's favorite. Marcus would deliberately write the wrong answers and not be able to stop himself.
Terrence waited outside the room with a bottle of butterbeer spiked with the antidote. He couldn't risk waiting to let the potion wear off on its own. Marcus gratefully accepted the beverage and drank it immediately. "Thanks," he said. "I think I need to see Madam Pomfrey. I was so nervous, I wrote all kinds of shit."
Terrence murmured words of sympathy and reassurance.
Marcus's final N.E.W.T. was Herbology. Terrence didn't bother trying to sabotage this one. Let Marcus get one N.E.W.T. His parents would be just as angry as if he'd failed all four exams. And he'd still have to return to Hogwarts, since even professional Quidditch players were required to have at least two N.E.W.T.s.
"Can't wait to get out of this place," Marcus grumbled, as they sat through yet another one of Dumbledore's Leaving Feast odes to Potter.
Terrence bit his lip to hide his smile. Marcus would be enduring Dumbledore, Gryffindors and the misery of school in general for yet another year - with his precious Malfoy and his precious Nimbus Two Thousand and One brooms. Maybe Terrence would send him a postcard from Sweden.
Marcus stared, aghast, at the parchment in his hand. An Acceptable in Herbology, a Poor in Charms, and Trolls for both History of Magic and Muggle Studies. He knew Charms and Muggle Studies had been disastrous, but he'd thought for sure that he'd gotten at least an Exceeds Expectations in History of Magic. How could this have happened? He collapsed to the floor. This meant another year of school. Another year of being stared at like a troll. Marcus Flint began to cry.
End