AN: You may or may not be interested to know that several minor changes have been made to Chapter Four. All of these are during Magical Theory. Most important is the absence of mention of child abuse, and a little change in her description of the people who have had unusual accidental magic.
Chapter Seven: Herbology, Discussion, Dinner and Fright
Professor Sprout looks back and forth between Nigellus' note and Harry for a few minutes. "Well!" she breathes finally. "Only at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter; only at Hogwarts. I suppose you're to be excused from practicals for awhile, then? Until you have-" she pauses, looks around, and leans forward conspiratorially. "Until you have magic again?" she whispers.
Harry just stares at her for a moment, confused; then he starts up. "Oh!" he says, "No, no, you've misunderstood! The spells have been on me for a long time, since I was a child; the only problem is from the removing of them. My magic is fine, mostly."
"On you for a long time?" Sprout murmurs, staring at him with wide eyes and a suddenly pale face. "By Merlin, child, you can't be serious- oh, but you are, aren't you? Oh, oh- are you sure?" she asks, almost pleading.
Harry nods silently, bemused by her behaviour.
"Oh, dear, dear," she says softly, all a-flutter. "Well," she says finally, "Well, you'll just have to… Well. We'll just start the class then, yes? Yes, that's fine, go and… go and sit down, please." Harry does so.
Despite this, class doesn't start for a few more minutes, because Sprout can't seem to take her eyes away from Harry, drinking in his image as if he's- as if he's- but Harry's thoughts break off here, as he finds himself unable to compare himself to any of the most wonderful things with which Sprout seems to be comparing him.
"What's up with Sprout?" Ron asks, peering around Harry to study the awestruck woman.
Even with Sprout staring at him, Harry can't help but laugh at Ron's face, which is all scrunched up in confusion. "She found out about the spells on me, that's all. I'm not sure what the big deal is, though."
"You found out what it is?" Hermione says, peeking around Ron (Harry again fights back a laugh- it's a strange sight, with Ron leaning around Harry, and Hermione leaning around Ron). "Oh, good! It isn't anything dangerous, I hope?"
"No, not really. It turns out that there's been a magic-suppressing spell on me since I was a little kid, but I broke through it a bit so I can use my magic. I'll explain properly later," Harry adds in a whisper, because Sprout has started to speak, finally pulling her eyes away from him- for the moment, at least, because she sneaks a glance at him even as he thinks this.
Hermione sits back, looking intrigued and thoughtful.
Nothing else unusual happens in Herbology.
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"I have less than an hour before Arithmancy," Hermione says hurriedly, grabbing Harry and Ron by the arms and heading at a swift walk toward the castle. "We can talk at the tower- sorry, the Eighth Dorm- so I can get my books- Professor Vector is ridiculous, she wants us to have all three books with us every class, even the first one, can you believe it?"
At the Eighth Dorm, Hermione tugs them onto a couch and looks at Harry expectantly. Used to this tendency of hers by now, he immediately launches into the story of the suppression spells.
At the end of it, Ron looks as enthralled by Harry's presence as Sprout had. Thankfully, he shakes himself out of it much more quickly than her. "Sorry," he says, noting the disquieted way that Harry is watching him. "It's just- Harry, it takes a wizard as strong as Dumbledore to get through one of those in less than a century. To hear that you broke through three of them in eighteen years- in less than eighteen years! It's alright, though, you don't have to look at me like that. I'll get over it. Don't I always?"
Harry shares a glance with Hermione. "Eventually," he says doubtfully.
Hermione laughs, and Ron's ears turn red. "Well, I'll get over it quicker this time," he mutters grouchily.
"Oh, no!" Hermione exclaims suddenly, "It's time for my class! Oh, no, I can't be late!" A few minutes of frantic rushing later, she's gone.
"A game of chess before dinner?" Ron says, once she's gone.
"Homework first, I think," Harry says, a mischievous glint in his eye. Ron's jaw drops, and Harry laughs. "Just to see the look on Hermione's face, yeah?"
The mischievous look spreads to Ron. "Let's," he says cheerfully. "We only have Herbology and Transfigurations homework, right?"
"Yeah, a comparison chart of cherry blossoms and cherry-tree leaves, and- oh, I missed Transfigurations."
"A nine-inch summary of the first two chapters of our sixth-year text," Ron replies. He begins pulling the necessary books and papers out of his bag, and, occasionally snickering at the picture in their imaginations, they get to work.
Harry is thankful that Ron seems to have forgotten about the suppression spells. If everyone is going to react like that, he thinks, then he'd best keep it a secret from now on.
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They finish about half an hour before Hermione gets back, and settle down to a game of chess. When she starts to berate them on playing chess before doing their homework, they- ever so innocently- reply that, "Of course we've done our homework, Hermione!" To their great satisfaction and amusement, she spends about five whole minutes just staring and mouthing words without sound. When she finally collects herself, she- to Ron's great satisfaction- promptly throws herself at Ron and kisses him deeply.
Harry laughs, but then- feeling a bit unnerved by the prolonged kiss- heads down to dinner without them. It runs from five-thirty to eight on the new schedule, and the time is six-thirty already.
"So I told him, 'If you don't get away from me right now, you great oaf, I'll curse your eyes off!' and that got him to go off quick enough, to be sure!" Malfoy is right at the end of some self-congratulatory tale when Harry arrives and sits silently across from him. The younger students, who have been listening intently, all laugh.
"Can you actually do that?" A blonde fifth-year asks, watching Malfoy with a hint of hero-worship. "Curse someone's eyes off, I mean?"
"Of course," Malfoy brags, puffing out his chest. "I've known that spell since I was in third year."
"Will you teach it to me?" One of the younger teens asks, and there is a sudden chatter of begging voices.
"Absolutely not," Malfoy says, looking startled. "What do you think I am? You need to find it on your own to prove you're skilled enough to handle it, just like always."
Harry grins. "Good going, Malfoy," he says softly, once the others have turned their attentions away.
Malfoy turns and looks at him with the air of one who has only just noticed someone's presence. "You're congratulating me for sending a bunch of kids off to look for dark curses?" he asks, raising one elegant eyebrow.
Harry laughs and shakes his head, "Of course not. I'm saying good job for sending them off to look for it instead of just teaching it to them."
"Uh-huh, sure," Malfoy says suspiciously, and returns to his meal.
They are the only eighth-years there, so Harry is able to eat his meal in peace after that.
Hermione and Ron arrive just as Harry is finishing. He grins and makes kissy faces at them on his way out, and it almost makes up for his discomfort earlier when they both turn red.
He spends the next hour playing solitaire and ignoring his roommates. Then he showers, gets prepared for bed, and falls asleep before the newly-created first-year curfew.
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He wakes up in the middle of the night, terrified. His blankets have fallen off, and he is cold; every shiver seems to run and clatter through his suddenly fragile limbs. He has an image in his mind of the bed- everywhere but the places he's touching- falling away into nothing, leaving him floating in a void of space with only a tiny bit of bed to support him. If he moves he will fall away into nothing and shatter into a million pieces.
He eventually convinces himself to open his eyes to the dreadful sight, but there is mattress on either side of him.
Even with this comfort he is frightened, because he is so horribly, terribly fragile. If he moves in the wrong way he will shatter and break, and it will hurt. But if he goes back to sleep where he is, he could fall off of the bed and be hurt; or someone could shake him to wake him up, and he would be hurt. He tentatively moves a finger, and it doesn't hurt him. With a spurt of Gryffindor bravery, he sits up in one movement. His world spins and shrinks as he panics.
He is unharmed.
Frightened and shaking, he carefully moves to the floor, tugging his blankets and pillow with him. Horrible pictures of falling to the floor and falling apart fill his head. Finally he curls up in the dark, quiet space under his bed. Nearly sobbing with relief at having the protection of the bed over him and the floor under him, he hides within a nest of covers and tries not to scream.
Hours later, he falls asleep. The fright is gone when he wakes up, and the relief of that is enough to keep the teasing from bothering him ("Potter's so stupid he mixes up which part of the bed is up? Idiot! Wait until I tell the others," Malfoy sneered).
When he arrives at the Great Hall, he is pleased to discover that Ginny arrived the night before, after he went to sleep. Even sleep-deprived, his world seems to brighten from her presence. She is a bit unnerved by his Slytherin colours, but she seems to adjust to the idea after a few minutes of shock. She chatters to him about her Quidditch tryout the whole way to breakfast. She seems to have done well, and he is so very, very proud of her.