A recap [In an awe-inspiring voice over]:
-He succeeded in the 'no one else commenting', that is, until the stern Professor Minerva McGonagall came in and gasped and stood there, frozen and with a bewildered expression on her face. -
Scarves (Part two)
Harry gulped inaudibly, his pale face growing even paler as he focuses on the teacher rather than his friend and the scarf. The elder witch had stood motionless and staring at him for nearly a full minute with the entire class silent; all of the Lions were sitting staring right back while the Snakes, minus two blondes, were copying their nemeses.
"Mr… Potter!" The deputy headmistress' voice seemed to shake with surprise and her thin pink lips became a thinner, tiny white line combined with her wide eye's narrowing and sharpening, she reminded Harry of a taffy-pulled Dudley learning of a new diet actually... The witch stiffly moved to the front of the class and away from the left of her desk; her face darkening into a shade not unlike his uncle, which really only made the whole thing seem more surreal than a stunned teacher who really, had most likely heard all about the scarf by now and had probably even seen it at one of the two meals. "Are you Not!" she swept her steely gaze about the room, reminding everyone why she was the deputy of the school and not the no-where-near-as-frightening-anymore Snape, "A Gryffindor, Mr. Potter." Her words posed no question, only an icy statement.
She stood still as a statue, her hands shaking (in either anger or… well, Harry was positive it was anger), and her eyes swiftly looking at the other students were the only things to provide proof she hadn't been petrified or jinxed. Of the fifth year students only Neville Longbottom had on a scarf (the right one too!).
"Well!" she demanded. Her tone leaving no room or time for a lie, or anything really. Harry gulped and very fish-like, opened his mouth a few times, each time only closing it quickly with a small gasp of air escaping.
"I… I lost mine?" he tried to say, the words exiting at a thin whisper which caused the Lions around him, including Hermione, to wince at the tight sound assumed to be caused by a very sore throat. The whispered words, even in the pin-drop silent class were barely heard by those closest and not at all by their asker.
"What did you say, Mr. POTTER?" A collective wince was held throughout the room. Hermione opened her mouth to repeat for the pale boy when the cool eyes snapped to her, "Are YOU trying to tell me something, Ms. Granger!" she hissed. And, in his mind, it was all too much of a reminder of a home that was never really his nor would ever be, of a family (his by name alone), that Harry saw his head of house morph into his uncle as a near double vision, (like when an object is moving slowing and too close to the eye viewing it), he saw the cupboard's looming darkness closing in and saw a large meaty hand coming fast from above.
Outwardly, Harry flinched and hunched over just enough before stopping himself, (as he had always done, been conditioned to, really) this wasn't home, it was school, it was safe. There were no dementors, no basilisk, only Transfiguration. His head-of-house was still continuing; "Lions! They are NOT snakes!" and a cooler hand reached for his own as she continued to rant about how her 'House' was being 'turned' and that she had 'lost her best seeker'. "And to SNAPE!" The woman continued her shriek, "AND YOU! You TRAITOR to the Gryffindor Name! I cannot BELIEVE this! This!" followed by a few more phases which were already being tuned out.
At this point Harry heard a gasp but really heard nothing at all. A faint buzzing had filled his head mid-rant and it was Hermione who stood up and physically pulled the shocked teen from the class room. Leaving the entire class with a raving teacher, and in another state of shock, Hermione Granger was skipping a class and taking her friend with her.
The entire episode had lasted just a few minutes, from the entrance of their professor to the rant to their leaving, but it was apparently enough time for the smart girl to have a plan already. Harry was shocked and followed behind at the brisk pace Hermione had set as she furiously headed away from the classroom. Both reeling with shock at their 'mentor's' behaviour.
"Harry?" the bushy-haired girl called as the headed onto a staircase as it swung from one corridor to another. When she got no response she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and thought. She had just walked out of a class. She had pulled shell-shocked Saviour with her. She really had no idea what had happened. Harry hadn't answered nor had he moved of his own volition. Sighing Hermione released her lip as they resumed their walk toward the Room of Requirement. At least, if Harry stopped acting like a doll, they could plan more of their 'under-ground defence movement' against the 'teachings' of that horrid toad!
The dark haired boy looked up when, suddenly, he felt his arm falling to his side as his friend dropped it and began to summon their door. Harry blinked slowly, mind awakening enough to watch his pacing friend, one hand on the scarf and the other lifting to wipe his face, feeling drained. He stayed still, allowing Hermione to choose their room today while making an effort not to think of their teacher or of the dementors or of his family. It was harder than it should've been. "Harry?"
"Coming," he whispered and entered with her into a living room, complete with cream coloured chairs and a matching couch, a tele that probably wouldn't work even if there was a plug-in and a neutral colour scheme with pictures on the walls of a countryside. Chuckling at a simple photo of a younger Hermione, Harry assumed she went for the familiar and thought of her own home.
Sitting on the plush couch beside his friend, the two of them were silent in their own thoughts until a couple of sharp coughs erupted in the silence. "You haven't been to Madam Pomfrey, have you? You really shou-"
"Not yet, Mione, I feel fine… felt, this morning anyway. Didn't, er, notice it got worse."
"…After class, then?" she leaned over with an innocent (if worried) smile whilst pulling a book from her over-flowing bag. Both laughing and dispelling the oddness of their day they set to their own, reading their real defence books.
After nearly a half hour of their efforts the silence was broken again, "Why?" The frizzy-haired girl leaned over again, reminding Harry suddenly of that spell, ' Est LumoOmos or something?' , and of their disastrous first class. Another thought flitted through his mind, 'why was no one else caring about it?'
Startled killing-curse green eyes lifted to meet a pair of worried honey-brown, "Why?"
"The scarf, it's… Odd, Harry. Really-"
"I didn't think it would be a big deal, 'Mione!" Harry interrupted, his cheeks gaining little colour as they flushed. He knew it was odd, he knew it wasn't done, at least not that he had ever seen. But it couldn't be. He glanced down at the green and silver strips, the small crest with the snake weaving, it brought his mind back to the sorting hat, back to his choice of house.
"Hogwarts: A History says-!"
"Hermione!" Harry hissed, the hoarse sound echoing slightly in the room, he wasn't feeling all that well anymore and this round-about conversation was eating at his already frayed nerves, "Does it really matter! For anything but 'house pride' or something! And what was that spell?"
"Well… Yes Harry! It does, But you didn't know so it's fine! I think…." She looked at her friend mischievously, "That spell, Harry, was a simple revealing charm, used mainly to find owners of lost items."
Harry glared through slightly glassy eyes. "What 'don't I know'! Please, just that, not the history or etymology of it. And what reason did you have to learn that spell?"
"In case someone finds something, of course!" Laughing and scowling Hermione sighed, "Fine, It-"
Her words were interrupted with a harsh cough from her pale raven-haired friend beside her. And, as the smartest of her generation, she connected two seemingly unrelated events. And, as her friend's cough slowed before stopping and he turned to face her, waiting for her to continue Hermione Granger gasped and sputtered much like Harry had earlier. "The! You! Yesterday, that's why! Ron and I! I'm so sorry, Harry!"
"Calm down, 'Mione, it's not your fault, I just forgot my coat," Harry tried to appease his friend, throwing an arm around her shoulders.
"Harry…" a sad taint filled her eyes before they hardened and she abruptly stood, hissing under her breath about 'stupid gingers' and 'homophobes' and pulling Harry, once more, to his feet and to depart the Hidden Room. The halls were empty, the stone warm with ancient magic seeped through from numerous students, faculty and people of the past millennia the sacred school had stood. Even the usually loud portraits seemed to be sombre to the youths approaching the infirmary.
Seated on a bed while Hermione was on an uncomfortable chair Harry waited while the stern Healer waved her wand in an intricate pattern, discerning what his 'foolish teenage self' had done now. Her face lips, much like their head of house, grew thinner as she continued. The tip of her wand was a calming blue, a few orange glows and sparks came as she murmured the chant under her breath. Neither of the students could see it, but Madam Pomfrey was staring at Harry's chest, or, more precisely, his lungs and trachea. The magic was showing inflammation of the alveoli and fluid throughout.
"Well Mr. Potter, I don't even want to know how you contracted Pneumonia so early in the season, but you have and you'll be staying here for at least the night." With that endearing statement the Healer left to collect, presumably, potions.
"Harry?" An answering grunt as he turned to face her rather than the space where Pomfrey had just recently vacated was the response. "Why do you have Dr-Ack!"
A hand was pressing against her mouth as Harry was leaning hard across the expanse between them, nearly off the bed except for his legs and waist, his torso suspended between them while his other arm held him aloft by it's anchor on the arm of Hermione's chair.
With a roll of her eyes Hermione pushed him back onto the bed, "Yes Mr. Seeker. Calm down. Why do you have a certain Slytherin Scarf, then?"
A flushed boy glared as he spun on the bed, crossing his legs and kicking them onto her lap he faced his friend with a petulant gaze. "Quid pro quo? I'll tell you, you tell me why our teacher flipped?" At the quick nodding of the bushy haired female the dark haired male's grin took on a slower, more sombre feel.
"Deal, Harry! It's not a really bad thing, she reacted a tad harshly."
"'A tad? 'Mione!'" he raised an eyebrow incredulously and scoffed at the eye-roll he received. "I was cold."
"… No. Really. I want to know!" laughing, Hermione leaned on the feet conspiratorially with gleaming eyes and a wide grin (worthy of Bellatrix if viewed out of context). "Come on!"
"Really!" chuckled an equally creepy looking Potter, copying her stance he leaned forward, "I was at Snuffle's cave, and I didn't even see him approach and-"
"Do you not have class, Ms. Granger?" interrupted a potions laden Healer. Scowling Hermione nodded and waved to her friend as she stood. "I expect you to return after classes," both blinked and looked at the healer as if she had turned into Snape in Neville's grandmother's clothing like the boggart back in third year. "Don't over do it, rushing out, or anything. Drink this." she thrust a fizzling navy potion with lime specks and pink bubbles. Sharing a 'look' Harry took the potion and swallowed quickly. It tasted like cinnamon and toothpaste with a fishy aftertaste and a viscosity like mud. It sent bubbles and a pleasant tingling throughout his mouth and throat while little sparks of limey-pink came from his nose and between his lips causing a slight giggle from Hermione. He was handed the other three she held, one a pepper-up while the other two were of a purple-red colour and seemed to be a very thin fluid as the liquid climbed the glass of the flasks. "It's a cough suppressant, and you will be taking more as soon as the cough returns, understand?"
"Yes, Madam," He gulped down both flasks of the suppressant, it was like swallowing butter-beer with a taste like how he imagined Sirius would've back when they first met at the cave, not at all pleasant. "So, I c'n go now?"
"For now." she smiled dotingly on the boy. His feet having been shoved off her lap as Hermione stood now leapt to the floor as he smiled up at the elderly matron, he flipped the scarf over a shoulder and waved, Hermione following suit, before the two took their leave of the spacious infirmary.
"Thank you! See you in a few hours!"
"Remember! As soon as your last class ends!"
Their next class was charms with the Ravenclaw's and then lunch. After they had a double block of Defence Against the Dark Arts with Umbridge, as the perfect end to the perfect day. That meant that for the whole afternoon they would be reading their textbook, hearing snide racial slurs and comments, and, of course, watching the group of Snakes get preferential treatment... Draco getting preferential treatment. "Bloody hell, 'Mione!"
"What?" said girl slammed around as he sputtered and stopped, "did the potions not work? Can you breathe? I know-"
"No!" Harry was laughing, his worry near forgotten for a moment, "I'm fine, just..."
At his downcast eyes, Hermione blinked and, as the smartest witch of her generation, had a feeling it was about the scarf, "I doubt he'll say anything... He would have said something earlier, like at breakfast or in Transfiguration!"
"He was there?"
"Mhmm! He just looked over and kinda..." she looked around, other students had begun to exit their classes, "Nevermind; come on, we should get to class. Flitwick loves that whole 'interhouse unity' thing anyway."
Nodding, Harry smiled slowly, knowing the girl was most likely correct. It made sense, even if he had only seen 'maybe' glimpses of his (ex-?)Rival it made sense to think he would have been told to either give it back, unless it was joke that is, then he could be waiting, laughing-
No. Draco (not Malfoy, not when he acted considerate, not at all like Harry had thought even the week before) had been sincere, concerned even, yesterday. It hadn't been some insidious ploy then, so it wasn't now. Harry's smile faultered as the the Golden Trio (sans the rash ginger) headed toward Proffessor Flitwick's classroom, his logic didn't necessarily make any sense, but it was enough to abate his fears and insecurites for a while. Until lunch probably. Or at least until class started.
Posted on Dec. 24. 2010
Part deux! It has arrived, (though horribly late), and the first chapter has been, (now that I have had time and been of the opinion to do so), revamped and will hopefully flow better!
Joyeux Nöel!