A/N: Okay. I don't know why I'm starting a new "series" when I already have something like three or four of them to finish. But I just couldn't resist writing something else-blame it on my delirious chickenpox ravings. Yes, I do have chickenpox. And it's really annoying (but I'm sure most of you know that). So you're going to put up with it, and still review at the end. You hear me? Review, or I'll set Poxymort on you! Oh, and by the way, although the title has practically nothing to do with the story at the moment, hopefully I'll get to the chapter where it does. Enjoy!
When
Rats Fly (or Fry)
Harry stared down at the little bottle of
brownish-yellowish liquid. What the hell am I supposed to do with it now?
He asked himself silently. Oh yes, that's right, I have to drink it.
Harry lifted the bottle up to his mouth. It smelled a little weird. Like the
wax he was supposed to use on his broomstick. Why am I going to drink
something that could be broomstick wax? He shrugged, and downed the stuff
in one gulp. A pleasant tingle spread throughout his body. Like butterbeer.
He thought to himself.
But this was no butterbeer from the Three
Broomsticks. It was no potent brew from Madame Rosmerta's famed collection. Oh
no, this was a potion. A very special potion. It guaranteed to brighten up his
life. Harry sighed and got off his bed. No one else was there, just him. He
shoved the bottle into the bottom of his trunk, along with the Sneakoscope. It
was about time he was going to dinner. Roast lamb. It was always roast lamb on
Sundays.
Harry walked into the Great Hall. There was
no one there. On a whiteboard on the wall, he saw a note to anyone who didn't
know that they were having a picnic on the Quidditch Field in honour of April
Fool's Day. Harry raised an eyebrow or two. April Fool's Day…Why hadn't he
remembered that? Harry turned his footsteps towards the Quidditch Field. It
wasn't a long walk, but it took time to get there, with all the twists in the
corridors and the fake doors and so on.
On the Quidditch field, he could see people
helping themselves to food from the trestle tables lined up along one side, and
sitting around, eating and laughing. Harry scanned the crowd for Ron and
Hermione. Once, twice, three times. But they were nowhere to be seen. So Harry
made his way over to the end of the food queue. He got a large silver plate,
and filled it with all the food he could manage to fit on it. That potion
sure has made me hungry. He thought to himself. After reaching the end of
the line of tables, he found a nice spot up on the top row of the Quidditch
bleachers.
It was then he noticed the snuffling noises
coming from the third row behind him. Harry wasn't sure if he should make a
noise just to warn whoever it was that he was there, or to turn around and find
out whom it was. In the end, he chose the second option. Putting down his plate
on the seat next to him, he twisted his body around to see who it was.
There was a writing mass of white-blond
hair and another writhing mass of black hair? No, Harry amended, it's
black fur. Just the thought of that astounded him so much he let out a
small squeak. But the white-blond stuff was definitely hair. So much like
Malfoy's…Harry thought, half irrelevantly, and turned back to eating his
dinner- roast lamb, as they had every Sunday, as well as an assortment of other
foods that he didn't really care to name, although they tasted great. Harry did
a double take. Malfoy and…who would have black fur? And what were they doing
up in the Quidditch bleachers making sounds like that-little moans now…The
only thing Harry could think of that had black hair was Sirius-the-dog. Harry
made some quick conclusions before jumping the seats and asking them what
exactly they were doing. Obviously doing something they're not supposed
to…Sirius back at Hogwarts…Malfoy and Sirius? Dog Sirius? Fighting over
something. Something important. Harry thought speculatively. He put his
plate back down on the seat, and proceeded to leap over the seats. He didn't
get very far though. He landed spread eagled on the floor of the next row of
seats.
Even two people snuffling and moaning over
something noticed large crashing noises and people swearing loudly in at least
two languages. The big black dog and Draco Malfoy looked up, startled. Then the
dog, being the quicker thinker of the two and more seasoned in fighting over
bits of meat, grabbed the raw steak from Draco's loose grip, and ran off to
another part of the Quidditch stands, gnawing contentedly on the meat. Draco,
reconciling himself to the loss of a tasty bit of dinner, looked down at Harry,
who was in the throes of agony.
"Well aren't we all just fine and dandy?"
Draco sneered, annoyed that some dog could get the better of him, and also by
the fact that Harry was the one who had interrupted him.
"Go…away…Malfoy" Harry said painfully.
"What's going on here, boys?" Snape
interrupted. Draco scowled at the sudden appearance of a teacher, as it meant
that he would not be able to hurl spiteful remarks at Harry any more, but
quickly brought his emotions under control. He had to appear like he had
nothing to do with this, he thought.
Snape took in the scene. The Potter boy
groaning on the floor, Draco looking rather angelic. It was too good to be
true. And it wasn't true, not one single bit. Snape could tell, and it showed
in his eyes. Those sharp, black eyes.
Draco swallowed nervously. Whatever was
supposed to happen didn't, and he wasn't feeling too confident.
"Well Draco, what do you have to say?" Said
Snape as he kneeled down to look at the injured Harry.
"I was a few rows up when…when he sort of
jumped up and landed splat." Draco said, trying to make up a
story along the way.
"I see." By the tone of Snape's voice, he
saw-straight through Draco's feeble attempt at a fib.
"Uhhhh.." Harry moaned, in too much pain to
say anything clearly.
"Draco, tell me what really happened."
Snape looked Draco in the eye, fixing him with the stare he usually reserved
for Gryffindors.
"Errrrmmmm…."
"Draco," Snape stared harder, "tell me."
"Okay," Draco fidgeted with his fingers, "I
was eating when something attracted Potter's attention in my direction-"
Snape cut him off sharply, wanting a
to-the-point explanation. "And what was this something?"
"Ummm….forgot sir."
This time, Snape only just saw his cover-up
story. "Forgot?"
"Yes."
"And can you give me a lie for that?"
Draco, now realizing that Snape had manoeuvred him into a corner, tried to
explain again, but was silenced by Snape.
By now, Harry was a bit more conscious, and
was listening closely to their conversation.
"Big…black…dog…urrgh" Harry moaned,
clutching his right leg, "broken…hurts…" and with that, he fainted with pain,
only to be shaken roughly by Snape and woken up immediately.
"Tell me. Tell me all!" Snape said
urgently, "I need to know!"
Harry looked up at Snape and Draco standing
over him, and promptly lost consciousness again.
"I'll blame this on you until I find
otherwise." Snape said sharply to Draco, and conjured up a stretcher for Harry.
Then Snape commanded Draco to help take Harry up to the infirmary. After doing
so, Draco was told to wait in Snape's office for further punishment.
Meanwhile, McGonagall and Dumbledore
contemplated Snape's sudden change of heart in Dumbledore's office. Each had a
nice big mug of hot chocolate. Dumbledore had received the recipe from friend
who had long gone, a friend named Lando Calrissian. It was the best in the
world, and now most people summoned to the Headmaster's office got a mug of it.
"This is very sudden." McGonagall said
worriedly, "Are there any ulterior motives in this?" she pondered.
"Remember, Minerva, Snape swore that he
would not return to Voldemort, in no matter what conditions." Dumbledore said
quietly, deep in thought. "However, his sudden interest in Harry's well-being
may just be another attempt to save his life, even if it is from his favourite
student, Draco Malfoy."
"Ah yes, the two arch-enemies. Harry Potter
and Draco Malfoy. The light and the dark. Opposites. Yet so much the same."
McGonagall mused.
"I do believe, that in different
circumstances, they would have been friends." He smiled at the thought of Harry
and Draco being chummy.
"Not that again, Albus. I doubt it would
have ever happened." McGonagall said wearily. "What I need right now is an
all-expenses paid trip to Hawaii. I've been teaching too long with-" she broke
off abruptly, realising that the man she was talking to was not only her
friend, but her boss.
"We all need a holiday." Albus said wisely,
"The last few months have been particularly dreary. I think a change of scene
would be good. But how to get all 800 students to Hawaii escapes me." His eyes
twinkled as he waited for her reaction.
McGonagall's eyes flew wide with surprise.
"Albus! A trip to Hawaii with all of them?"
"No, not quite. Hawaii is, after all, only
a small place. Somewhere large and somewhat uninhabited would be better.
Somewhere like…" Dumbledore trailed off as Snape burst into the room.
Snape took in the scene-candlelight, mugs
of what looked to be like coffee, Nescafe to be precise (he couldn't smell all
that well-his sinuses were playing up at the moment), the closely placed
chairs, although there were three of them, as if Dumbledore was expecting
someone. He flushed in embarrassment. "So sorry, sir, but I have some important
news for you.", he apologised, "It really is urgent."
Dumbledore smiled and waved for him to take
a seat. "Nothing more urgent than a visit from our Potions master at eleven
o'clock at night. Make yourself comfortable."
Snape knew that Dumbledore had never, ever
said those last three words to him before, and from that, that something was
up.
A/N: Now, you will ::does little Jedi mind
trick waving hand thingy:: review. And no, I don't care if you're a Toidarian.
You're still going to have to review. Even Toidarians are susceptible to
chickenpox! Even Dark Jedi are susceptible to it! So Ni to you too. I will go
now, and write a part two or three or something like that for one of my
previous fanfics. I'm going to have to get a copious amount of reviews before I
continue this though.