This story was written for the 12th round of the Fifth Season of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm writing as Beater 2 for The Wimbourne Wasps.
Name of round: Pair Them Up!
Harry Potter is an amazing fandom for writers. There are so many pairings out there that another person might look at with wide eyes and say, 'what on Earth are you thinking?' To you, however, you may just love that pairing. This round, everyone is given the same 16 characters. It is your choice, however, how you decide to pair them. If something like Dobby and Umbridge in a romantic relationship is your thing, then sure, we won't judge you. All characters can only be used once within your team (eg. If the Captain chooses Harry/Ginny, your Keeper can then not use Harry OR Ginny.)
As Beater 2, I'll be writing about two characters as enemies. The enemies of this story are Albus Dumbledore and Rose Weasley.
Because I came in as a permanent reserve a bit late in the round, I don't have any extra prompts. All five are used by our Beater 1.
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the world J.K. Rowling has created; it's all hers, from Diagon Alley to Hogwarts to all the people living there.
PS. Word-count provided by MS Word—
Nemisitia
Words: 2 870
"Class, last time, as you'll recall, you got to try your hand at brewing Amortentia. If you've been reading ahead, you know that this class will deal with the love potions' opposite; Nemisitia, the hatred potion. It is Amortentia's opposite in more ways than the effect when consumed. Can anyone tell me some more contrasts are? Yes, Miss Weasley?"
Rose straightened her back and began to recite the appropriate section. "Amortentia acts instantaneously and strongly, waning over time. Nemisistia grows stronger over time before it abruptly fails when the potion has run its course. They are also different because of who the drinker imprints on. Amortentia is always imprinted on the person administering it. Nemisistia is activated by a verbal command, making the drinker hate whoever the administrator tells them to."
"Correct," said the Potions Professor, Amelia Comstock. "Five points to Gryffindor. Although, it should be added that it's not as simple as who the administrator tells the drinker to hate. It's the first name they say. Okay? Yes, well, the list of ingredients is on the board. Start setting up, and I'll give you a run-through of the process."
Rose reached the supply closet first, really excited about brewing this potion. The Hatred Potion was a fairly new invention, and as far as she was aware, they would be the first Hogwarts class ever to brew it. They were contributing to history.
She grabbed a jar of fermented bloodroot, filled one of her own containers with powdered dragon horn, grabbed a bundle of scurvy grass, and continued on with her mental list of ingredients.
On her way back to her desk, she bumped into Scorpius Malfoy. She dropped the dragon horn, the little jar she'd put it in crashing into a hundred shards and spreading out over the floor.
"Sorry!" Malfoy said.
Rose scowled.
"You can have mine?" he offered and flashed a crooked smile.
"Thanks," she muttered, and without another word, she grabbed the jar of dragon horn powder from his desk. She moved back to her own, leaving the clean up to him.
Once everyone had returned to their desks and settled into some semblance of order, Professor Comstock explained the process of how to make the potion, something that was unique to her. According to Rose's parents, their potion professors had never told them how to brew. There'd been some general theory classes, but then they'd been left to try with only the instructions in the textbook to guide them. They'd been left to succeed—or fail, as it were. It made Rose quite happy about attending Hogwarts while the school was run by Headmistress McGonagall. The Headmistress took an interest in how the classes were led, not content to watch the test scores roll in without following up why the students were performing at the level they were.
Because of the explanation provided by the professor, at the end of class, all fourteen NEWT students had managed to brew Nemisitia successfully. All cauldrons were filled with deep blue potions that swirled without being stirred, giving off a scent of dampness, licorice, and sardines—at least, it smelled like that to Rose. Alike Amortentia, Nemisitia had a smell that was unique to each witch or wizard who smelled it.
"Well done everyone," said Professor Comstock. "Fill your vials and leave them on my desk. Don't worry about clean up today; we've gone over time a little, and you have another class to get to. Chop chop!"
The speed at which everyone began to go towards the front of the room and then file out, made it seem as if there were far more than fourteen sixteen-year-olds in the room. Rose took her time, knowing that she'd be able to get to her next class in time by taking a series of hidden shortcuts. She wrote her name precisely on a note and attached it to her filled vial, making sure to get it exactly straight.
Certain that everyone would be out of the way, she didn't look where she was going as she left her desk, and she ran into someone.
She ended up on the floor, face drenched in potion. Some got into her mouth and eyes.
Spluttering, she wiped her eyes.
"I'm so sorry! Albus—"
Rose met Malfoy's wide open, terrified eyes. They both realised what was about to happen. He'd administered the potion to her. She was about to start hating her cousin. It would be like going back in time a few years, to when she didn't care to speak to Albus. Only this time it would be worse.
"—Dumbledore," Malfoy concluded. There was a poignant pause. They looked at each other, Rose open-mouthed, Malfoy blushing. "I'm sorry, Rose," he said. "Albus bumped into me and—"
"Don't blame this on me," Albus Potter said, arms crossed. "Nice save though."
"Nice save? Nice save!" Rose's voice might have taken on the qualities of a shriek.
"Yeah, it'll be safer for you to consider a man who's dead your enemy than me. I'd not like to imagine what you'd do to me."
"Oh, I can still play the role of your enemy," Rose said.
"Maybe we won't need any of that," Malfoy said. "Eh, Professor, do you have an antidote?"
Professor Comstock was looking at them, wand impotently raised. She'd been too slow to save them.
"I'm afraid not, Mr Malfoy," she said. "An accident, similar to this one—involving a younger Weasley and Potter—has rendered most of my potions supply useless. It'll be a few days before I have everything restocked." She sighed, and when she spoke, she kept her eyes trained on the ceiling. "And here I thought you were all mature enough to not get into these situations. I should have known better. Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter ten points each from Slytherin for your carelessness, and five points for your quick thinking, Mr Malfoy. Miss Weasley, I'll write you up a note explaining why you'll be late to your next class. Herbology, is it not?"
Rose nodded.
"Professor Longbottom will understand that you need to get changed. Head back to your dorm and do that. I'll have you back to normal in a couple of days. Until then, try your best to not do anything rash, and tell your friends so that they can be voices of reason for you."
"Here," Malfoy offered a hand to help Rose off the floor.
She didn't take it, getting up on her own.
"You're a menace," she said. She looked at Albus. "You both are." Thinking his name made her scowl. "As bloody useless as your namesake."
"It's begun," Malfoy said solemnly.
Rose didn't deign his comment with a reply. She grabbed her schoolbag, the note from Professor Comstock, and she walked away.
By dinner, Rose mostly felt normal. Her thoughts returned to the former Headmaster of Hogwarts every few minutes. Comments criticising his dress, his running of the school, his opinions as a youth, and his involvement in the wars against You-Know-Who kept interrupting her normal stream of consciousness.
Was he trying to blind people by wearing those colours? Dinner. I'm eating dinner. But who introduced all of the unhealthy things on the menu? Ten galleons on Dumbledore. He must have thought that unhealthy children were easier to control. Don't think about it. Just chew. I need to study later. I won't have time tomorrow because of Quidditch practice. If she could only understand what Pericles meant in his section on human transfiguration. Why don't we have access to our teachers for a few hours every week outside of class to ask questions? Probably because of Dumbledore. He holds the highest NEWT scores in Hogwarts history and is probably keen to keep it that way.
"How are you holding up?"
Rose turned to her brother who was sitting down across from her at the Gryffindor table.
"Fine," she said.
"So, not planning on sneaking into the Headmistress office to set fire to Dumbledore's portrait?"
Rose paused, fork loaded with steamed vegetables—no thanks to Dumbledore—halfway to her mouth. She pursed her lips, and her eyes became distant.
"No," Hugo said, freckles standing out as he blanched. "No, no, no. That wasn't a suggestion. Don't do that."
"I won't," she said.
"You're just saying that, aren't you?"
"I don't want to destroy Dumbledore's portrait. I may not like the man, but I'm not about to destroy school property."
"Ah. Well. Good. That's good." They looked at each other silently. "I'm going to regret ever opening my mouth, aren't I? Do me afavour; don't get caught."
By the time curfew was drawing near, Rose's inner monologue was completely filled with slurs against Albus Dumbledore. She couldn't think of anything else. She'd abandoned her transfiguration homework hours ago, unable to make heads or tails of it.
Dumbledore was an old fool. He hurt Uncle Harry so much, and that's only the beginning of it. He hurt this school by spending more time working on the war than on developing the curriculum and making sure that the teachers were competent. He was willing to hire anyone who offered to take the position as Defence Against the Dark Art teacher. What was he thinking? He was a danger to the students of this school. Some of the teachers he'd hired had hurt people, and not too many of them were competent teachers, hurting the entire society. He shouldn't be revered now. He should be struck from all Hogwarts records as punishment, letting all future headmasters of this school know that they can't act like he did. His essays should be burned. Nobody should have to be influenced by his opinions. They're dangerous. If people continue to follow him, and care about what he thought, rather than think for themselves, it'll hurt me and people I care about. He's dangerous. An enemy of the people. I should do as Hugo suggested. Destroying his portrait is a good first step.
Rose got up, her goal set in her mind. All she'd need was her wand. She knew the password to the Headmistress office because she was a prefect. This late at night no one should be up there. Setting fire to Albus Dumbledore's portrait and taking the first step to ridding the world of him would be simple.
"And just what do you think you're doing?" her year mate Emily asked.
"I'm going to destroy Dumbledore's portrait," Rose said.
Emily blinked at her. "No, you're not. That's just the potion talking."
"It isn't. I've always thought that Dumbledore was a poor Headmaster. McGonagall is clearly superior."
"Okay. And how is destroying his portrait gonna help anything?"
"For one, I'll enjoy seeing if a portrait can feel pain."
"That's definitely the potion. You're not going anywhere."
"Dumbledore has to be stopped. I'll not let you get in the way of that."
Emily closed her eyes, lifted her chin, and breathed out hard through her nose. "I'm coming with you."
"You are?"
"I'm not letting you walk around the castle like this."
Rose frowned, peering at her classmate through narrowed eyes. "Do you swear that you'll not hinder me?"
"No. Definitely not."
"If you're not with me, you're against me."
"Excuse me?" Emily's eyes grew large, then her expression changed. She smiled brilliantly. "Ehum. Never mind that. I'll help you."
"Really?"
"Yes. Death to Dumbledore." Emily nodded enthusiastically.
"Oh. Well. Good."
The two girls left Gryffindor Tower, walking through the deserted hallways. Rose was only vaguely aware of her friend walking beside her, stuck in the haze of hate.
A man who everyone thinks of as something he wasn't is far more dangerous than a man who is known for his true colours. Dumbledore hid that he craved power. He claimed that he kept himself from it by working at Hogwarts, yet he was Supreme Mugwump and had the Minister's ear. He was a shadow ruler, holding a lot of power. Power which he abused. With all that influence, he could have changed things for the better, but he was content to be a teacher. He squandered his responsibilities. People have to see him for what he was, or his dark legacy will continue.
Rose and Emily reached the gargoyle guarding the Headmistress' office, and Rose gave the password: "Porskoff ploy."
They entered the circular room. It lay in darkness; despite that Rose easily found Dumbledore's portrait on the wall behind the headmistress's desk. Like all the other portraits of former headmasters, Dumbledore was asleep, snoring softly in his chair.
Rose scowled. Even in the dark, Dumbledore's robes were glaring. Never mind that midnight blue wasn't as bad as some of the outfits the wizard had been known to wear.
"I'll just be over here," Emily said.
Rose didn't pay her any attention. She couldn't. Her vision was going red around the edges. She pulled out her wand. Pointed it in the direction of the portrait and opened her mouth to speak an incantation.
As she did, Dumbledore opened his eyes.
"Ah, Miss Weasley," he said, smiling cheerfully. "I expected to see you today. Did you have a little accident in potions?"
"The only one who's about to have an accident is you," she said.
He nodded, solemn. "I see. Well, go ahead then. I have been thinking that these drapes are a bit drab, but sadly, I can no longer use magic, and I find myself incapable of doing anything about them. And it is awfully dark in here, a bit of fire would lighten things up, wouldn't you say."
"Are you mocking me?"
"Now, where would you get that idea, my dear?"
"This ends now. With you gone, people will be able to think for themselves. I'm not going to allow you to destroy our society any longer. Incendio!"
"Miss, Weasley!"
The burst of flame shooting out of Rose's wand, died halfway to the wall as she was startled by the appearance of Headmistress McGonagall. The Professor had a tartan dressing gown wrapped around herself, and Emily was peeking out from behind her shoulder.
"What is the meaning of this?"
"I think you'll find that the young lady is under the influence of a Nemisitia potion."
"I know, Albus." Professor McGonagall's lips were thin, her voice equally stern when addressing the old Headmaster as when she'd spoken to Rose.
"Then you'll agree with me that a trip to the hospital wing is in order."
"Expelliarmus," Professor McGonagall said, deftly grasping Rose's wand when it flew out of her hand. "Miss Weasley, we are going to the hospital wing. We'll get you something to sleep on, and I'll personally make sure that the antidote is ready for you when you wake up.
"No!" Rose said. She lunged forward, rounding the large desk, reaching the portrait behind it, and scraped down the canvas with her nails. "You can't be allowed to continue to exist!" she shouted. "I'll remove every trace of your existence from the world!"
Dumbledore walked out of his frame, joining Severus Snape in his. The other former Headmaster woke up at the commotion.
"What is going on?" he said in a rumble. "I should have known. A Weasley spawn is, of course, causing trouble."
"Be kind, Severus," Dumbledore said. "She's accidentally swallowed a Hatred Potion."
"Ah," Snape said. "Minerva, I suggest you stun her. This is only going to get worse."
"No!" Rose wailed. She moved to the next painting and was just about to start tearing at it when things stopped and she knew no more.
Rose woke up in the morning with a blinding headache. The first thing she saw was the worried frown of Professor Comstock.
"How are you feeling today?"
"Awful," Rose said. "Will I be able to play Quidditch later?"
"I'll let Madam Pomfrey be the judge of that, but if you feel well enough to stay on a broom, I can't see why not. I gave you the antidote before you woke up. The Headmistress got it from a potions supplier in Diagon Alley, stating that we could not wait. What do you think when you hear the name, Albus Dumbledore?"
"I—" Rose thought about it.
Albus Dumbledore was during his tenure the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. He discovered the twelve uses for Dragon's blood, advanced alchemy together with Nicholas Flamel and is particularly famous for defeating the Dark Lord Grindelwald and being the only wizard Lord Voldemort was said to fear.
"Nothing special," she said.
"No urge to remove every trace of his existence?
"No."
"Good. I'll see you next class. I promise it'll be calmer. No brewing. Just theory. Get better."
"Thanks, professor."
Rose sighed and relaxed into her pillow. Hating someone was exhausting. She closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander.
Dumbledore is hardly perfect, though. There are some troubling things about him. Things that justify having him as an enemy. I never considered that before. I will have to look into it more now that I have a clear head. He was neither a hero or a villain. Nobody is. It's good to remember that. Everybody has flaws, and from now on out, I'll be more aware of that.
The End
A/N 12th November 2017
I didn't think I'd be back writing for the Wasps, but they needed someone to come and fill in for a couple of rounds, and I accepted. For better or for worse.