Welcome readers, what you are about to enter is a fierce rivalry between two writers. Hoping to better our writing we decided to have a bit of a challenge. Each writer must write a fanfic, update once a week, add some quirky things that I'll explain later, and try to keep the writing style close to the actual book. Well, here goes.
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Warning!
People attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be incriminated;
People attempting to find moral in it will be banished;
People attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.
By order of the Author.
WHACK!! Harry Potter awoke with a start and jerked up in his seat. Professor McGonagall's piercing stare began drilling into him and her wand still lay on the desk in explanation of what the sound had been. Snickers sprouted up through the room like weeds from the other sixth year Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students. Harry chanced a nervous smile and an uncomfortable laugh, which he quickly abandoned and followed Ron's lead in sinking down into his seat as low as possible.
"Now," began Minerva, staring at the two boys with stern disappointment. "Which one of you is going to tell me what I just said, hmm?" She stared Harry in the eyes and he used every ounce of training he'd been through over the summer to read her thoughts.
"You were saying how transfiguring a moving object will be useful when we have kids of our own throwing pudding through the air," Harry explained.
"That's right, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at Harry and turned swiftly around. "And you were mumbling about an important Quidditch match you were winning."
Another round of giggles spread through the room, but Harry was fully awake now and every conscious minute he was cursed to relive Sirius's death. He didn't care if they laughed anymore. He didn't care when Malfoy teased him and provoked the rest of the Slytherins into whimpering like dogs when he walked past. He didn't care when Snape embarrassed him for something relatively unimportant. He didn't even care about Quidditch anymore. At the last practice he'd played his part, but every movement was rehearsed and not one bit of it was thrill. Professor McGonagall noticed the frightening lack of reaction and quieted the class so she could continue the lesson.
"Today you will be working with the other person at your table," she explained, still holding her back to them and staring at the chalk board. "You shall each be turning balls of yarn into oranges as your partner throws them at you." She paused for a few seconds and re-read the instructions on the board to make sure they were clear before bellowing, "Begin!"
Many of the students jumped as McGonagall barked out her order and sped baskets of yarn balls at them to practice with. Ron grabbed the basket and stood up in silence, noticing that Harry once again seemed deflated. Ron's goal in life had resorted to keeping Harry's spirits up, which he did devotedly. Both Hermione and Ron feared the worse for Harry as he'd lost so much and he seemed on the verge of suicide at times. He didn't sleep much and had nightmares when he did. Madam Pomfrey had been trying to give him dreamless sleep potion, but he didn't care enough to take it every night. Sometimes he had good dreams, but whenever Harry Potter looked in the mirror he heard a voice telling him he had led Sirius to his death.
Ron threw the yarn ball and Harry fired at it. The ball landed on a desk and seemed to have changed very little. It was now slightly more orange in color than before, but other than that there was no difference. Ron's turn delivered the same result.
"Y'know," began Ron, prodding his own orange yarn ball with his wand. "Mom never transfigured pudding into anything. She told us if we threw it, she wouldn't serve it."
Harry shrugged and threw the yarn ball again. Ron took aim and fired, but the result was the same. Harry tried and they compared yarn balls. Both seemed the same as the last ones and were an amazing display of a waste of time.
"…Is pudding dangerous?" Ron demanded, clenching his fist around the yarn ball. "I mean seriously! I've never been in a situation where I wished I could just transfigure a ball of yarn into fruit! The words: oh no, I better turn that yarn into fruit, quick! Have never escaped my mouth!" he ranted.
"Well, not all at once," Harry replied simply. He didn't care how stupid the assignment was at that moment, all he had to do was pass with a high enough score to an E or an N. They were all focused on that at the moment. Neville had been a nervous wreck lately having barely gotten into Snape's potion class and that was only with the help of Albus Dumbledore, who felt that after standing up to a group of death eaters, including the one that had hurt his parents, Neville should be allowed to at least try for becoming an Auror, and he needed the class for any career dealing with plants as making an antidote was half of working with them, especially as he tended to be clumsy with the poisonous ones.
Harry and Ron turned to see how Hermione was doing and were revolted to see that she and her partner had a pile of perfect oranges in their basket. They each flicked their wands daintily and caught the fruit in their empty hands. Harry turned his attention away as his mind whispered,
'She bests you in everything. Maybe if you tried harder Sirius wouldn't have died. Maybe if you had her talent he'd still be alive. Maybe if you were as smart as she was then you would have known it was a trap.' Yet Neville caught his eye before the voice could really get him down. Neville was the worst student in the school, yet it had been him who had been left standing to aid as backup. Neville waved and Harry waved back. They shared a special connection after their near death experience. Neville had even broken down and admitted to Harry that he felt that Sirius's death had been entirely his fault.
That had gotten Harry out of the worse part of the depression. Having to talk Neville out of feeling guilty had come as a frustrated challenge. It would have been easier to blame him and Neville offered no objection to shouldering the guilt. Somehow that was when Harry first realized that he hadn't been alone in his misguided rescue mission so he couldn't have been the only one to have been tricked. Yet the demon in his head was always there to whisper of failure and there were moments when he felt he'd never be able to conquer the demon and might as well just die. It was no use fighting against something so strong and he knew he'd never best it. Neville fired at the yard ball and reveled in the complete lack of effect.
"I hate you," he intoed at the pink yarn ball, having adapted Ron's language habits over the summer.
"That was closer than last time, try again," his partner, Desdemona, invited.
Harry looked to her. Desdemona was a new girl who had transferred from a school in Japan, though she lived in England. To any who asked she simply explained that her family wanted a school that was more disciplined and committed to a large range of extracurricular activities as she wasn't any good at sports. Anyone that took notice of her could tell she loved art as her long, slightly curly, black hair usually held specks of pain of clay in it. Her hair was usually tied back with a ribbon or spare cloth in order to keep it out of her projects.
She was the type of girl who never thought twice before putting on safety goggles, sunglasses, or magnification goggles, all of which made her look nerdy, so it came as a surprise to those who saw her large blue eyes. They were her most prominent feature, yet her eyes were always downcast as she roamed the halls usually in a rush with her eyes set on the floor, in class she was always sketching or reading and taking notes like she desperately wanted to keep busy. She'd developed slightly squirrel-like habits as she seemed to be a pack rat and jumped at small noises.
Neville let out a groan and readied his wand for another attempt. Again the ball dropped to the floor without a result. He seemed a lot happier now that he was closer in Harry's group of friends, but the Neville curse still roamed through him. He got along with Desdemona easily and was usually happy to be around her as she was a very timid girl who always made him feel like his mistakes weren't his fault.
"Sorry, I'll throw it softer this time," said Desdemona, holding the yarn ball up like a shield.
Harry looked back in time to see something flying towards him, out of instinct he cast a deflecting spell and the object soared back towards the person who'd thrown it. Ron, saw it and cast the same spell Harry had done, thinking that was the best idea during an attack. They continued between this even when they realized that it was just a yarn ball halfway into the orange stage. Hermione greatly disapproved, and proved this with a strict stare that went unnoticed. She dropt it when her partner threw another ball and she nearly missed changing it. McGonagall looked up from her stack of papers and glanced around the room.
Seamus was tying up Dean with yarn to the amusement of a group of Ravenclaws, Hermione and her partner were swelling with pride and enjoying the fact that they could now eat their yard balls, Desdemona was getting pitching practice but her wand lay abandoned in her bag, Neville was adding curse words to his vocabulary as he hissed at each ball of yarn, and Harry and Ron, bless them, were playing tennis. The bell rang, saving the children unknowingly from getting transfigured into ferrets where the final test would be to change themselves back.
"Miss. Embers," McGonagall called, figuring she'd focus on the slacker.
"Y-yes, Professor?" Desdemona replied, halting at the door quite suddenly and spilling her books.
"I noticed you didn't take a turn, Mrs. Embers," McGonagall stated, helping her pick up the books.
Desdemona dropped her gaze, avoiding eye contact. "Uh, n-no, Professor," she stammered.
"Tomorrow I expect you to come to the front of the class and show them how it's done, seeing as you're too good to practice," McGonagall informed her sharply, opening the sketch book to see if there was a new drawing in it.
Desdemona stared up at her with fearful eyes, but McGonagall ignored her and stared at the new drawing.
"If only you put as much effort into your schoolwork," she sighed, handing the book back to Desdemona.
"Y-yes professor," Desdemona stuttered. Minerva nodded, then strode away to go and talk to Neville about how to keep a Poserella plant from singing Britney Spears songs.
Harry Potter stared at the front of the class room and his mind was bombarded with images. He saw Cedric lying dead, he saw Voldemort rising from the cauldron, he saw Sirius fall into the curtain, and he saw Fudge announcing to the wizarding community that Voldemort was back and should be left to the ministry workers to deal with. Fudge held a strong hatred towards Dumbledore, accusing him of sabotaging the ministry and making them look bad. He had declared that all individuals grouping together to stop Voldemort would be sentenced to Azkaban for ruining investigations by Ministry officials. Flashes of his miserable life with the Dursley's and the loss of the one person who could have saved him from them defeated all hope left inside of Harry.
Slowly the voices began filtering back into the dungeon as Ron nudged him in the ribs and knocked him out of the depressing daydream. Hermione's hand was in the air as usual, waving energetically. Snape was ignoring her and Draco was snickering, everything was normal. Snape looked across the room, as a vulture searching for a rotting corpse to feed upon, his eyes lingered on Harry for a moment, but Harry only pointed to Hermione in frustration.
'She won't stop just because you ignore her so pick her already!' he thought harshly, staring Snape dead in the eye. Professor Snape let out a hissing sigh and his eyes slowly traveled to Hermione in what History would always remember as the fiercest, scariest, and most aggravated look in the History of Hogwarts. Hermione dropped her hand like a dead weight and sunk low in her seat. Neville sat next to her, white as a ghost and shaking. Even the Slytherins were silent, and that was hard for them as Draco had found a particularly painful topic to torment Harry with. Everyone was waiting to either burst into flames, or for Snape's head to continue its slow movement until it spun completely around. Ron and Harry, who were cursed to be sitting in the front row, felt the sudden urge to run for the door as Snape turned the stare towards them. Harry, however, stared right back and an invisible war seemed to erupt between them.
Ron was leaning away from Snape so far that he was on the verge of falling out of his chair, Hermione was peeking out from under her desk, Malfoy's mouth was open mid-speech, Neville looked like he'd been petrified, yet Harry and Snape faced each other with scowls of frustrated anger. The class was smothered in an uneasy silence, not daring to bolt for the door, but really not wanting to stay there. As the bell rang, Ron grabbed Harry's arm and vaulted for the door. He burst into the hall dragging Harry behind him and couldn't stop himself from crying,
"Sanctuary!"
"Ron!" Hermione lectured as they hurried down the hallway.
"Shh, shh," whispered Neville, petting his hand and urging them forward. "Shhhhh."
One by one, Ron, Hermione and Neville squirmed as shivers ran through them. They quickly decided it was a grand day to go outside, and fled from the dungeon dragging Harry after them. They sprung into the first floor and dashed in a random direction.
"Ouch!" Desdemona cried as Ron ran into her and her books fell to the ground for the fifth time that day. She quickly scrambled to gather her books and papers before people stepped on them. She completed this rather quickly and promptly stood up, her eyes cast to the floor.
"S-sorry about that," she apologized. "You're alright?"
"Uh," Ron stuttered. "My fault."
"No harm done," and with that she hurried down the hallway, possibly late for another class.
"Got a few screws loose that one," Ron muttered after her.
"Oh, she's really nice," Hermione defended. "She's just a bit… awkward around people… and she has a nasty habit of being late."
"I noticed," Ron replied mockingly. "Sorry you ran into me," he mimicked Desdemona. "My fault, I'll leap over you next time."
"Ron!" Hermione shrieked.
"Hermione!" Ron mimicked and was swiftly kicked in the shin.
"Whipped," Neville laughed.
"Quiet!" Harry ordered sharply.
"Sorry, Harry, I-" Ron began.
"Shut up!" Harry snapped. He crept forward and they followed silently. They had begun coming to school with expectations about danger and Harry seemed fine tuned to it. He was teaching the Defense against Dark Arts Study group in his spare time as a way to regain some of the happiness his fifth year had provided. They all knew he was always on the lookout for a trap now, though worried he'd become Mad-eye if he wasn't careful. Harry peered around the corner and saw Professor McGonagall stumbling forward. Her hands were outstretched and she looked distressed. Harry held Hermione back as she tried to run and help, he'd become cautious and noticed that McGonagall was only a few feet from the Infirmary.
McGonagall entered the double doors in a drunken manner and left the four teenagers to shoot nervous looks to one another. Harry recovered first with a sigh and decided he'd go take a nap before the impending doom arrived.
"Oy, Harry?" Ron asked, leaning against a post on Harry's four poster bed.
"What?" Harry pulled open the curtain and stared up at Ron, who sat down at the end of the bed.
"I was just thinking about potions class today," Ron admitted, not looking at Harry for fear he'd get upset.
"If you want notes on it you'll have to go to Hermione, won't you," Harry replied, sorry he'd woken up for this.
"No, not that!" Ron went pink around the ears, but continued what he'd been trying to say.
"I meant about the glare-a-thon between you and Snape."
"Oh," Harry put his pillow over the upper half his face, trying to signal that he had a headache and wanted to be left alone, but Ron stayed. Sighing, Harry spoke.
"He just wanted to yell at me, that's all."
"He yelled at you?" Ron gaped, taken aback by the comment. "When?"
"Well, he didn't exactly yell at me, did he?" Harry abandoned his attempt to sleep and sat up, pushing the pillow behind him. "He more of… though harshly at me."
"What'd he say?" Ron asked, leaning in towards Harry as if they were about to share an important secret.
Harry recalled the conversation in his mind.
'It's not all your fault,' snarled Snape.
'What do you mean it's not all my fault?!' he had snapped back. I'm the idiot that fell for the trap-'
'Which you never would have heard if I hadn't stopped giving you lessons!'
'Which you stopped because I decided to get nosey!'
'It was childish for me to stop,' Snape had argued, though his face twisted into a glare of hatred towards Harry. 'That I admit. Besides, I should have done something more when you tried to warn me.'
'Like what?' Harry had twitched with anger. 'Asked Umbridge if you could pop over to a friends house for a moment and then help her deal with us?'
'Like anticipated you- or Granger- would find a way out and waited for you!'
That had been the point the bell had rung and their conversation was brought to an end.
"…Ron?" Harry asked.
"What?" Ron replied, still wondering what Snape had said.
Harry stared fixedly at him, studying his every move. "Do you, in any way, think Sirius's death was your fault?"
Ron stared at the bed sheet and answered in little above a whisper, "Yes."
"Why?" Harry questioned, still watching Ron's reactions closely.
"Because in the end it was you and Neville," Ron admitted. "I'm your best friend and where was I? Maybe if I'd been with you then we could have found a way out or fought harder, or I don't know...."
"You really think that way?" Harry felt a deep guilt swell up inside him. He'd played the friend role, but all summer he'd ignored them and now he realized they must have assumed he was mad at them.
"Hermione thinks the same thing, mate," Ron admitted. "Seems like all we are good for is telling you what to do, the time you actually need us we ruin everything."
"Ron," Harry shook his head. "It was my fault. You can think it over a million times, the truth is that it all comes down to me believing an obvious lie. Everyone reacted to me, if I had just used that mirror to contact him that night, like he asked me to, this would have never happened. It's my fault. I led Sirius to his death. I nearly led you lot to your deaths. Every time someone follows my ideas, they get hurt."
Ron decided this was time to let Harry sleep and relay the conversation to Neville and Hermione. Harry decided not to care what Ron did as long as it allowed him to get some rest. Lately he'd been tired a lot as nights were devoted to many different activities, Remus had given him James's journal which he'd been too afraid to read with much attention to detail even though it was from the seventh year when James had supposedly straightened out, and he had a voice in his mind telling him he wasn't good enough for sleep. Harry Potter closed his eyes and wondered if he'd open them again, or give into the world of darkness that was slowly consuming him. Every morning he woke up he was amazed and secretly wondering when he'd end it all.
"Who is that?" Neville pointed towards the transfiguration professor. She was a younger woman with an oddly shaped nose and green hair…
'Tonks!' Harry, Hermione, and Rom stared wide eyed at Tonks and their jaws hit the floor. She returned their stares with a showy wink and a giggle. Hermione fell into her seat as Ron and Harry shuffled uncomfortable towards their table. Tonks sat upon McGonagall's desk with a flashy smile like she was posing for a picture.
"Wotcher, Harry," she greeted, giving Harry the thumbs up.
"Err…" Harry stuttered, not exactly sure what to do.
"Remember me?" Tonks asked skeptically. "You probably don't, but Arthur introduced us early last year."
Er, yeah, yeah that's right," Harry nodded, shooting her a look that demanded an explanation for her being there. None of the order members were supposed to let anyone know about the order or its members.
A watch on Tonk's wrist chimed loudly and she opened her mouth to start the lesson and stopped, noticing everyone staring at her.
"Something wrong?" she asked. "Oh!" she scrunched up her face and her nose popped into one more fitting her pose. "Does that look better?" she asked, watching the familiar reaction of stunned disbelief from everyone except Ron, Harry, and Hermione, who were rolling their eyes. Tonks started to speak again, but she was cut off as the door flung open and Desdemona hurried in. She cringed as every eye in the room turned towards her and she crept along the back wall to sit next to Neville.
"Hello," Tonks greeted, taking out an attendance sheet. "Can I have your name?"
"D-d-desdemona E-e-embers," Desdemona answered nervously.
"Ah!" Tonk's face lit up. "Professor McGonagall left me a special note for you. You'll be showing us the proper way to turn a ball of yarn into an orange, that's fan-" the stopped, noticing that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all mouthing 'no' and gesturing for her to stop. Desdemona hadn't practiced and had Neville's luck from what they'd seen. She tried her hardest and was bright, but very nervous in front of crowds.
"tastic," Tonks finished nervously.
Desdemona fumbled quickly through her books, looking for notes, her hands paused on her sketchbook and she hesitated. Whispers of doubt radiated through the room as Desdemona was fifteen and enrolled in a sixth year class, it was no surprise she was struggling. Neville leaned over to her, whispering 'just say you can't. The lecture won't be as bad as the embarrassment.' Desdemona looked up at him but stopped. A determined look spread across her face and she stood up with enough force to knock her chair backwards, grabbed her wand and strode to the front of the class.
Tonks stepped aside as Neville stood slowly up and prepared to throw her a yarn ball. Desdemona nodded to him, though her hand twitched and fidgeted nervously. Neville nodded back doubtfully and tossed the ball. Desdemona's wand shot up and her voice did not simply say the spell, but seemed to command it. In midair the yarn spun into a yellow color and small pores appeared. It landed on a desk and juice squirted out and onto the faces of two Ravenclaw in the front row. Desdemona kept her wand raised and stared at the fruit in shock, not believing that her spell had actually worked.
Tonks, due to a lack of a better idea, picked up the fruit and sniffed it, "…It smells like a lemon," she admitted with a smile. "So, when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade! Twenty points to Ravenclaw! And full marks to Miss. Embers!"
Neville and the Ravenclaws (sounds like a band, no?) erupted into applause. Even the Gryffindor were applauding, all except Hermione who looked astounded and was muttering,
"It's a lemon, not an orange!"
Desdemona, however, rocked back and forth on her feet for a few seconds, and promptly crumbled to the floor.
"Er, yeah," Tonks laughed uncomfortably. "Harry, you wanna take her to the nurse or something…"
Harry got up as Hermione began a rant about how luck proved nothing. Ron was forced to listen 'attentively' to this rant and tried getting in comments like 'everyone still knows you'll graduate top of our year,' or 'they're just happy because this is good for Desdemona, it's like if Neville made a perfect potion that turned Snape into a toad.'
"Well she didn't have to faint!" Hermione growled. "That was an overreaction!"
Harry carried Desdemona out of the room and found she was unusually light, which he was thankful for as he hadn't slept the night before and it was quite a ways to the infirmary. Once there he stopped as he heard voices inside.
"I was in the teacher's lounge," Professor McGonagall was explaining. "I had some coffee, graded a few papers and then I started to feel offset so I headed here when I finished the papers."
"That's it?" Madam Pomfrey asked quietly.
"Yes, yes, that's all," McGonagall said rather forcefully.
"Well, it seems we've a bit of a mystery on our hands," Professor Dumbledore announced prominently.
"Yes, and this year let's not leave it up to a certain person to get us out of it," Minerva sighed.
"Who?" Madam Pomfrey asked dimly.
"Potter!" Snape spat, jerking his head towards the door as movement caught his eye. Harry decided to continue his way into the infirmary as he was already pushing the door open with his back.
"What do you think you're d-?" Snape's lecture caught in his throat as Harry emerged far enough into the room for Desdemona to come into view.
"Oh my!" Madam Pomfrey rushed over towards the two students. "Come, come," she instructed. Harry laid Desdemona on a bed and left her to Madam Pomfrey as Professor McGonagall called him over.
"What happened?" Professor McGonagall asked, knowing that Harry and Desdemona had Transfiguration this hour.
"She transfigured the yarn ball and collapsed," Harry explained simply, not really knowing how to explain what had happened without laughing. He imagined Neville's reaction if he HAD made the potion Ron had talked about earlier.
"Probably of shock," scoffed Snape.
"Why do you think that?" asked Professor Dumbledore calmly and with his usual smile.
"She's the female version of Neville Longbottom," Snape clarified arrogantly. "I imagine he'd have a coronary if he perfected something that didn't have leaves on it."
"I think Neville just hasn't reached his peak," smiled Dumbledore as Harry drifted over to Desdemona and left the 'adults' to continue their conversation.
"You carried her all the way here by yourself?" Madam Pomfrey asked.
"Yes, she's not heavy," Harry answered and saw a suspicious glimmer spread across Madam Pomfrey's eyes.
"Does she spend a lot of time studying?" she asked Harry.
"More than Hermione," Harry nodded. "I've seen her in class and at the library, nowhere else."
"Mmm hmm," Madam Pomfrey nodded and spun around towards the Professors. "I'd appreciate it if you saved your comments,' she snapped at Professor Snape, moving away from Desdemona. "This girl is suffering from malnutrition."
"In English," McGonagall requested, not up to her usual standards at the moment.
"She hasn't been eating," Madam Pomfrey clarified. "She probably collapsed because it took a lot of effort to perform that spell."
"And she got it on the first try," Harry pointed out, saying this mostly to Snape, though he chose to look at Professor Dumbledore while he said it. "Even Hermione was jealous."
"That'll be enough, Potter," Snarled Professor Snape, completely understanding that he was being told off.
"Thank you, Harry," Professor Dumbledore smiled warmly. "You may go back to class now."
Harry nodded and retreated out of the room as fast as possible. There he took a sharp left and grabbed his Invisibility cloak from behind a painting. He had stored it there after witnessing McGonagall dragging herself into the infirmary. He wanted to be sure that this year he got ALL the details and had open options to tell a teacher what was going on and make them deal with it.
Snape waited a few seconds before trudging silently over to the door and swinging it open, making sure Harry wasn't planning on listening in on their conversation they'd planned to have while he was safely in class with an order member. He looked carefully around before closing the door again.
"How do you feel now, Minerva," Dumbledore asked, choosing to ignore Professor Snape.
"Strange," Minerva began. "It's like I just used a Pensive. But all my memories are fine; it's spells that are foggy."
"You may have a concussion," Madam Pomfrey presumed. "One the left side of your brain where that kind of knowledge is stored."
"Will I get it back?" McGonagall asked; her voice laced with worry. Dumbledore put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly and said,
"I'm sure you will."
"I don't remember being attacked or anything though," said Minerva defensively.
"Well, you wouldn't, would you?" said Madam Pomfrey. "The concussion would block out the attack."
"Are you suggesting that someone is attacking people in this school?" asked Snape skeptically.
"Lots," answered Madam Pomfrey with a meaningful glare at Snape. "Just a few moments ago, you attacked Mr. Potter for giving his opinion."
Outside, Harry was forced to gag himself so he wouldn't let out a spiteful laugh. He could imagine Snape's face turning colors as he struggled not to get into a fight with Madam Pomfrey in front of Professor Dumbledore. The fight that did ensue was one of casual snipes between the nurse and the potions professor. Harry, however, was busy trying to hear over them to what Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall were talking about.
"I can't imagine who could have gotten into the lounge and attacked me," McGonagall was saying.
"I don't know, Minerva," said Professor Dumbledore, sincerely. "But we'll find them."
'Ignoring the obvious, again,' Harry thought, rolling his eyes. 'I wonder who could have gotten into the staff lounge without arising suspicion. Say maybe STAFF! So, who can't we trust on the staff yet? Maybe that would be the DADA professor who is new to the school and will probably follow the curse of bad professors teaching that class!'
Harry Potter silently climbed to his feet and stalked of, depositing his cloak back behind the painting. His head was spinning with ideas of how to best deal with the problem quickly, but as indirectly as possible. First things first, he needed to involve Ron and Hermione, then ask Neville as back up and to make sure there weren't flaws in the plan so greatly idiotic that Neville would catch them. Besides, Neville was an endless source of plant information and knew of a particular plant for almost everything. There had to be one he could find use in. He also needed Hermione to make some truth serum so they could question the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor without much danger. Ron would, as always, provide a friend that would either unknowingly give some clue or hint to the solution, or coincidentally know how to solve one of the problems.
"That took you a long time," Tonks greeted suspiciously as Harry walked back into the chaotic classroom and had to dodge a yarn ball that someone threw.
"I stopped to plant a few dungbombs," shrugged Harry, figuring someone must have planted a few anyway. "You don't mention that, and I won't mention anything about the glass vase Mrs. Weasley can't find."
"Deal!" Tonks grabbed Harry's hand and shook thankfully.
"Is she okay?" demanded Neville, striding forward to question Harry.
"Yeah," replied Harry. "Just tired," he lied, somehow wanting to protect Desdemona from the embarrassment of everyone knowing she'd forgotten to eat.
"Thank goodness," breathed Neville. "I was sure I'd done something wrong."
"Why were you gone so long?" asked Hermione, coming up behind Harry.
"Yeah, what's up?" asked Ron.
Harry leaned in close and they followed suite. With a cautious look around, Harry relayed the entire conversation and his opinions of it. Hermione looked shocked, but Ron drummed his fingers on the table and mumbled,
"I'm going to buy all of us earplugs."
"Why?" asked Hermione in a patient tone.
"Because I heard Professor Bins saying that he didn't like the new DADA professor," clarified Ron in a mumble of regret. "Said this school would be better off without a no good monster like him. Said he was one of society's downfalls."
"So that settles it," sighed Harry. "I suppose you'll be wanting to go to the library?" he asked Hermione.
"No," replied Hermione, causing Harry and Ron to fall out of their chairs in pure alarm.
"What?" Ron coughed out, seeming to have been choking on his surprise.
"That'd be a tad suspicious, don't you think?" said Hermione, her voice tight and annoyed. "I think we should go about our daily lives and try to work this out in secret, unless you want Harry locked up at Grimmauld Palace."
"True," Ron nodded. "I think Lupin is ready to do that anyway."
"He just doesn't want to loose anyone else!" lectured Hermione, glaring at Ron.
"Neither do I," said Harry. "So let's get this over with as soon as possible."
-
Harry Potter leaned against the greenhouse wall and stared up into the sky. Neville was squatting near a patch of odd looking shrubs with blue buds that emitted sparks of shinny balls that drifted around as if they were alive. The plant itself was a light turquoise color, though it seemed to glow as the shinny balls left a trail of sparkles wherever they flew. Neville had not looked up at Harry once as he carefully pruned the shrub.
"It's called Fairycradel," explained Neville, staring affectionately at the plant. "They call it that because tinny fairies are what you see coming out of the buds. The interesting fact about this plant is that it has a communal relationship with the fairies. They live in it while they grow into actual fairies, but the plant shoots off spores that keep the young ones brainwashed to take care of it. A plant like this is rare as it takes a grown fairy to make it. The tinny sprout has to wait until a fairy flies by, and shoot out a small spike into the fairy. The spike contains a parasite that takes over the fairy and makes it take care of the sprout. The fairy uses most of its magic on the sprout, and when the plant is old enough to support a bud, it envelopes the fairy and grows up around it. So the base stock of each Farycradle is a fairy."
"As eerie as that is," said Harry, staring cautiously at the stock of the plant. "How does that help me?"
Neville set down the pruning shears and reached tenderly towards a large bud surrounded by vines. He gestured for Harry to come closer and took out his wand. Harry kneeled next to him and stared blankly at the bud. It was a soft purple color and larger than any other bud.
"I've been caring for this plant since first year," said Neville, his face and voice alive with pride. "Professor Sprout helped me a lot in the beginning. He said he was happy that someone had the talent and interest to care for it.
"That's great, Neville," said Harry, deciding to just be happy that Neville had been given such a grand compliment and had something to be proud of.
"Since first year I've been reading up on it and trying my best," Neville continued. "Do you know what a Fairycradle does that makes it so special and need so much time?"
"No," Harry replied honestly. Neville's face erupted into a grin and he slowly eased his want towards the purple bud.
"It grows a pod," said Neville, pointing towards what Harry had assumed to be a bud. "And in that pod is something extraordinary." He lit his wand and moved it behind the pod with delicate care. Harry's mouth fell open and his eyes stared unblinkingly at the wonder before them. Inside the pod, clearly visible, was a human form silhouetted by the light. She was in a fetal position, but turned towards the light and stretched two perfectly formed arms.
"Wow," breathed Harry.
"She's a special kind of fairy," spoke Neville. "She has a very strong power that grants wishes, like a genie."
Harry was silent as he watched the girl stretch. He couldn't help but be amazed at Neville. The nerdy boy whom everyone thought couldn't do anything, was raising his very own genie.
"That's amazing," said Harry. "When will she, er, I mean how old is she?"
"When she's born, she'll be a baby," whispered Neville. "She looks like a teenager, figure wise I mean. Professor Sprout says she'll come out in about three weeks or so." Neville removed his wand and the pod darkened again. "But what you need is a Tokerstashide."
"Huh?" asked Harry, his mind still on the pod.
"It's like a drawer," explained Neville. "This plant can grow anywhere as long as you sprinkle cannabis powder around the roots for it to feed on. It has a gooey substance around its leaves that shrinks things. So you bring it with you to the library, let it touch the book, and the Venus-flytrap type mouth will snatch up the shrunken book. Then later, you tickle the plant, it spits out the book, you wipe it off and that's it. The book will regrow for your use."
"Are you being serious?" Harry gaped.
"I've got a room full of gum wrappers my Grandmother has never seen, and a window box full of these," grinned Neville.
"Where do I get one?" asked Harry, reminding himself to do something nasty to Snape later in return for the favor Neville was doing.
"To your left," Neville replied. "I was going to turn it in for extra credit, but you can use it."
Harry climbed into the common room and was promptly interrogated by Ron and Hermione, who hadn't known where he'd run off to. The common room was deserted as everyone had gone down for breakfast. Ron had awoken, pulled back the curtain on Harry's bed and panicked. The person they were keeping on suicide watch was missing.
"Where were you, we were worried sick!" exclaimed Hermione, enveloping Harry into a tight hug.
"Sorry, MOM!" Harry shot back, wrenching free from her grip.
"You don't have to take that attitude with me!" snapped Hermione.
"Uh, what's that?" asked Ron, pointing at the tinny plant in Harry's hand.
"Ask Neville," Harry replied. "I was in the greenhouse this morning, relaying our plan to him."
"Well, he freaked out, did he?" asked Ron, already assuming that yes was to be the answer.
"No, actually he was pretty cool about it," explained Harry, slightly on the defense. "He's just glad we're being careful this year and that we're including him."
"The truth serum is in a book in the restricted section," sighed Hermione, as if saying they should give up and tell the adults their plan.
"I can't wait until next year," grumbled Ron. "That section has been a pain in the arse ever since first year and I'll be happy next year when we're allowed in it."
"Not a problem," Harry replied, setting the plant down on the table between them. He briefly explained what it did and waited for a reaction. Ron was prodding the plant with something Harry assumed had once belonged to Percy, Hermione was recalling all five years of Herbology class, and the plant looked surprisingly mellow.
"So we just get a pass to check out a book, go in there and shrink the one we need so no one knows we took it," Hermione seemed alarmed by the simplicity of the plan and quite pleased with the lack of danger.
"How do we get a pass?" Ron asked, trying to complicate things.
"WE don't," said Harry. "Neville is going to do that for us."
"What?" Ron's jaw hit the floor next to Hermione's.
"He's going to ask Professor Sprout if he can research a book on some poisonous plants," spoke Harry, allowing his tone to become stern. "Trust me, he'll get the pass. Then, while in the library, Hermione is going to distract the librarian, Ron is going to serve as back up, and Neville is going to ask me to help him find it. I nonchalantly agree and we're in."
"But what if one of the teachers gets suspicious and looks for the book?" Hermione worried, chewing her lip as she finished.
"Why would they?" Ron shrugged. "They never stopped us before, though Snape always tried."
The three amigos looked around the room, knowing it was Snape's favorite hobby to enter the room at moment when he was either being talked about, or could interrupt a conversation with a disembodied sneering comment. Thankfully, they were still alone.
"But Remus said that if he got word of trouble and got news that Harry was involved, he'd pull Harry from school," Hermione reminded them. "The order members are keeping such a close eye on you…"
"I know, mom," groaned Harry. "Seems you're helping them."
Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Ron interrupted before she could unleash her storm of lectures and refrigerator magnet quotes.
"Open the book with the spell we need and copy the spell," suggested Ron, shrugging his shoulders as if to prove it was the simplest thing in the world.
"That'd take too long," lectured Hermione.
"That's why I want Luna to help us," spoke Harry, again causing Hermione and Ron to jump in surprise.
"Why?" Gasped Ron.
"How?" Gaped Hermione.
"Her dad has magical cameras, probably even small ones that we can use to snap a quick picture. Either that or I'm ripping out the page," said Harry, explaining things as simply as possible.
"Those books would scream if you ripped a page out," Hermione pouted.
"Exactly," said Harry. "We all fought Death Eaters, I think we can trust everyone from that night to help and keep a secret."
"Okay, but…" Hermione hesitated, debating whether or not to continue. "It's just been one incident."
"Haven't you learned yet that these things get worse the longer we ignore them," Harry sighed. "I just want to get this over with so we can concentrate on more important things."
"I hope you mean school and not why Voldemort hasn't attacked anyone yet," lectured Hermione, her tone shrill and important.
"This is our sixth year," spoke Harry. "And I'd like to pass it."
"Fred and George said it was hell," said Ron, his voice low with fear. "It if comes up to the option of finding who's attacking the teachers, or taking the tests, I'm going straight for the attacker."
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Rules to the MechaPanda and Eve-L-Minded, Story Challenge.
One character must appear in a fairy costume (Tinkerbelle, ect).
A Llama must be in the story.
"Where's Waldo/there's Waldo," must be said by one character. Rabbit with big sharp pointy teeth.
"Run away!" must be said at least three different times.
There must be a room filled with Jello.
One character must say, "The last time I four scored wasseven years ago."
At least one character gets captured/arrested.
One character is shrunk.
One character has a crippling fear of clowns.
Clowns must appear in the plot.
Other character(s) must find out about and tease the clownophobic.
Must use the quote "you're a fast little shit, aren't you?"
Character(s) forced to cross-dress. (Nickname(s) and all.)
One character must be gay.
Same thing must happen to one character every time (s)he shows up.
"She's a lady, whoa, whoa, whoa, she's a lady."
Someone must end up in a compromising situation, more than once, and be caught.
There must be a ferret on crack. (Squirrels are also acceptable.)
Two rivals must be forced into a situation beyond embarrassment where they must get along in order to make it out.
Anytime a character says "Now what?" The fourth person who entered the room has to strip. Like a pro.
A guy must be attacked by a kitten. In a very sensitive place.
Must have a new character, or kill off an old one.
24. "Maybe it's a short cut." "Maybe it's a long cut." "Maybe it's a paper cut?"
