Hello, my dears. Yes, you are my dears now. Why? Because you have an overabundance of patience!
I did say I would try to get done over break, but (obviously) did not go as planned. Ah, well. In any case, thank you so much for all the story favorites and reviews! You guys encourage me so much!
On a chapter specific related note, if you do not enjoy run-on sentences, please avoid the first few paragraphs. They may give you headaches. Just know that I did alter the third and fourth paragraphs from single sentences to full paragraphs… not that that is any excuse!
As always, please read, enjoy, and review!
Chapter Nine: In Which an Oversized Bird Causes Less Trouble than a Cotton Swab
"Blaise Zabini, you give that back right now!"
Harry grinned, watching Blaise use his superior height to his advantage over Pansy. It was Wednesday, at lunch, and the daily owls had just arrived with the mail. Harry doubted the Dursleys would ever send him anything, but Draco and Tracey were among those who had received one nearly every other day.
Pansy had just received mail from and elegant looking bird of the like Harry had never seen before. Its head bore a strange plume that dangled before its face like an angler fish's light, only its pattern was like a peacock's feather centered with a silver so shiny it reflected the hall like a mirror. It had jabbed its foot aggressively at Pansy, grabbing beak-full after beak-full of bacon until Pansy's trembling fingers had untied the velvet pouch from its leg. When she deposited three sickles, it stretched its wings to their full span, punching Crabbe and Goyle, who had not been fast enough to dodge, out of their seats and with a force that knocked all the nearby platters over plunged into the air and out of the Great Hall.
(Rose, who had been passing, was furious: it had taken her all of thirty seconds' wand-work to set everything back in order, down to Goyle's untucked shirt and Crabbe's loose tie. Now the green and silver striped garment was pulled so tight about his chubby neck the boy was turning a most peculiar shade of purple.)
"My dearest Pansy, I've been missing you―oh, you've got a boyfriend, don't you?" Blaise grinned viciously, holding the letter out of the girl's reach.
"What?" demanded Draco, reaching across the table to snatch it away. "Give that here..."
"DRACO!
"...missing you here in France―"
"A French boyfriend!" called out Blaise and Tracey at the same time. It was Tracey's turn to grab at the letter.
"Tracey?"
"I've begun making the necessary arrangements for you to visit over the holidays―that's so sweet!"
"Sweet?" chortled Draco.
"More like scandalous!" cried Blaise. He stood on the bench and leaned over Harry and Daniel to grab the letter back.
"Oh, give it back to her, guys..." said Daniel. Her voice was quiet, but she swatted at Blaise's arm.
"Don't be such a pansy, Harper," growled Goyle. For a moment they all stared at him―usually his comments were confined to grunts and threats to get his homework done by the others, and most definitely not containing any wit. But then Blaise started to read again.
"I'll send one of the servants to pick you up from the station―"
"A rich French boyfriend!" Tracey squealed.
But the table's laughter had died. They all shared a tight lipped silence as Adrian, the letter in hand, scanned it briefly. He had taken over their grins, wearing one of his own that made him resemble a shark.
"My Dearest Pansy," he began in a mocking tone. "I cannot see you very often because I'm a known psychopath who would be beset by aurors the moment I set foot in Britain, and while those aurors are just so juicy of meat I'd rather not lose my sanctuary in France. I'll send some lackeys to spirit you away from the Station so that you can bring us vital information about the ministry's security so that I may go on yet another murdering spree. Your loving sister, Violet." Adrian chuckled to himself and let the letter fall to the ground. "Oh, do give Vi my good word in your reply, Parkinson?" He sauntered off down the table, the first years staring after him in a confused hypnosis.
Their immobility was broken a moment later, and Pansy snatched the letter from the floor and sat back down in a fuming silence. Even Blaise sunk back down off the bench, somewhat subdued. But Tracey, it seemed, was the quickest to shake off Adrian's residual effect. "Jeez, what was that about?" she said, tossing her blond curls over her shoulder. "Pass the chips, Draco."
The boy complied, and they all set about eating―including Blaise, meaning the volume of their section was a good deal lower than it had been all lunch.
"What do we have this afternoon?" asked Harry between bites of some strange meaty pudding Blaise had dished out for him. Harry hadn't forgotten―rather, now that the distraction of Pansy's letter was over, he was almost twice as excited as before.
"Double Transfiguration," supplied Draco.
Even though he was still eating and so not talking, they could all see how Blaise straightened up at the word. In fact, Harry, Daniel, and Tracey all couldn't help but perk up at the reminder. This was their first Transfiguration class of the week, and the four students couldn't wait to get there―Draco stared at them blankly.
"Did I miss something, or do you all actually look excited about that Gryffindor-loving old hag's class?" he demanded.
Harry laughed. "Not her class, really..." he said as vaguely as he could muster.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Blaise apparently couldn't hold himself back any longer. He swallowed his last bit of sandwich quickly so that he could join back into the conversation. "We can't tell you, Draco," he explained in a manner that explained nothing at all. "If we did we'd give it all away!"
"Give what all away?" asked Pansy. She, too, couldn't hold up her silent pout.
Suddenly Daniel spoke up, startling Harry. For all her quiet attitude and silence during classes, she really did speak more often than Harry expected―he wondered if he'd ever get used to that.
"Well, none of us like Granger, right?" she asked, though she really didn't need to: the table collectively grimaced. "So we thought we'd show her up in... Our own way. And if she overreacts, well, it won't be our fault, right?"
Draco raised his eyebrows sharply. "So you're going to show that stupid Mudblood up?" he demanded. Harry resisted the urge to flinch at the word; somehow every time he heard it he couldn't help but feel his mother had to be turning in her grave. He pushed the feeling aside and put on a fresh smile, reminding himself that it was Granger Draco was insulting. That thought made him forget his unease as he nodded.
"It's about time we showed her who's worthy to be at Hogwarts," Draco said shrewdly. "Father says there shouldn't even be any muggle-borne at Hogwarts anyways. Salazar Slytherin didn't want them here." He shrugged off the thought. "But what are you planning on doing?"
Blaise laughed. "We can't tell you, friend!" he insisted. "If we did we'd be ruining everything! But how about instead I'll tell you what my brother told me about some of the pranks he's pulled on the Hufflepuffs who wanted help with their homework. There was this one time..."
Friend. The word struck Harry like a blow to the gut. Was that what he should consider Draco now? Before coming to Hogwarts, Dudley had made sure that Harry would never have any friend, but now he had Blaise―and he though Tracey and Daniel, too, though Tracey was none too bright and Daniel impossible to read. But Harry wasn't sure he wanted Draco as a friend. Maybe it was his superior attitude, or that he only seemed to address Harry to suck up to the boy or insult him. Or perhaps it was his continued struggling in charms, making him less than impressive in the face of the four Slytherins who had spent the last to periods giving the Ravenclaws bogus advise as they attempted to scare Flitwick by brushing him with their feathers. It could, Harry supposed, also be his continued bragging about his flight skills, which, now that Harry had seen them first-hand, were less impressive than his own or the less boastful Daniel's...
"...isn't that right, Harry?"
The eleven year old blinked, brought out of his daze by the energetic Blaise. Realizing he was expected to answer, Harry quickly shrugged. Blaise seemed satisfied and turned back to Draco, who was unimpressed.
"Well, if I had been sorted into Ravenclaw, my Father would have had something to say about it," he said coolly. "He's old friends with the headmaster of Durmstrang―Igor Karkarov, you've heard of him? If mother hadn't wanted me to stay in Britain, I'd already have transferred there... They don't try to pass off cracks like Quirrell for their professors, and," his voice quieted but seemed to fill with a strange pride, "They teach the Dark Arts themselves to the older students. Not this so-called 'defense' nonsense." He had been leaning forward to deliver this detail and seemed pleased by the raised eyebrows of his audience.
"Real magic," Crabbe agreed.
"None of the Ravenclaws have enough guts to study anything that could be a bit dangerous!" Blaise declared. "Even my brother relies too much on his books―like that Granger girl..."
The whole table stiffened. Harry was beginning to get the picture. "Well, it's not like the sorting hat doesn't give you a choice," he said slowly.
Blaise raised an eyebrow. "A choice?" he repeated. "What do you mean?"
The table was staring at Harry intently, and he blinked. "The hat didn't talk to any of you?" he asked. But he knew the answer before he even finished. In sorting, the hat had barely touched the others' heads before calling out 'Slytherin!'
But Daniel spoke up again. "It gave me a riddle," she offered.
Harry frowned. "A riddle? What sort?"
It was her turn to shrug, but her skin turned a shade darker with her blush. "I told it to stop mucking around and put me in the best house."
They all laughed, to the girl's increased embarrassment. "No wonder you're in Slytherin, then," said Draco. "And you, Harry? Did it give you a riddle?"
Harry shook his head. "No, it just started talking about what sort of wizard I'd make. Told me I'd be better off in Slytherin, then gave me a choice, I suppose."
"What was your other choice?" asked Draco. His eyes seemed to pierce Harry with expectations.
"Oh, Ravenclaw, of course!" lied Harry. He knew enough after a week with the Slytherins to know he wouldn't want to mention Gryffindor, or that the hat had, technically, tricked him into Slytherin.
"Of course you chose Slytherin, then," said Draco. "Anyone with any pride in being a wizard would!"
Pride?
The bells rang and the benches of the Great Hall's four long tables scraped back across the floor loudly as the students hurried to join the rush out. As Harry and Blaise made their way to the group, a sudden influx of screeches sounded, followed by laughter. Harry looked to Blaise, but the boy only shrugged; neither of them could see over the crowd.
"Move along! Get to class!" Percy Weasley's voice sounded over the laughter. The crowd quickly filtered away, clearly not wanting to deal with the high-strung boy.
Or that was what the boys thought until they made it through the doors and came in view of the whole scene. Rose was brandishing her wand at Peeves, casting some sort of shielding spell around him that kept the ghost contained. "PEEVES!" she bellowed as he flung himself against the magical walls. "DO I NEED TO FETCH THE BLOODY BARON?"
Percy and two other prefects were helping a group of soaked Ravenclaw girls collect their soaked items. The Weasley suddenly glared up at them, shoving the papers off onto the angry girls. "Why didn't you stop him, LaConner?" he demanded.
Harry blinked, but quickly realized that Adrian was leaning against the wall beside the doors to the great hall. The older boy replied quiet coolly. "What makes you think I would have wanted to?"
"No need for that, Miss Hawthorne," whined Peeves. "Just let me out!"
They heard Adrian sigh. "Besides, it was quite funny, until you lot started all this nonsense. Come now, Rose, let him out. We have a game of chess that needs finishing."
Rose looked over at Adrian with a harsh glare, opening her mouth, but seemed to catch herself in time to hold her tongue. "The Baron will hear about this, Peeves!" she called, releasing her spell with a swish of her wand. She pivoted about and glared at Harry and Blaise, who had paused at the foot of the stairs to watch the scene unfold. "Get a move on it, Potter, Zabini!"
They quickly scampered away, not wanting to be late to Transfiguration.
"Late to the second day of class?" Professor McGonagall reprimanded as the pair skidded into the room on the last toll of the bell. "Ten points from Slytherin. Take a seat."
Harry and Blaise quickly took the last seats available in the room—one of the middle tables. But they weren't about to complain. They were sitting right behind Hermione, and while her hair certainly made it difficult for them to see the board they had an excellent view of her match.
"Now, you've had five whole days, I expect at least some of you have progressed on your matches? Perhaps some of you can even demonstrate a full transfiguration for the class?" the Professor asked, right on cue. Harry barely held back his grin as Hermione thrust her hand into the air proudly. Blaise and he already had their wants out under the desk.
"Very well, Miss Granger, if you please?"
The girl cleared her throat, tossing her hair importantly. She waved her wand rhythmically, and said in her clearest voice—"astula verto!"
Unbeknownst to her—or anyone, for that matter, both Harry and Blaise and whispered at the same time, "Scribblifors!" Hermione's jaw dropped as, rather than sharpening or turning at all metallic, the match abruptly grew into a snowy-white quill.
It took a moment, but the class burst into laughter. "Nice one, Granger!" called one Gryffindor, only to be fixed with one of McGonagall's signature disapproving stares.
"Very funny, Mr. Finnegan," she snapped, waving he wand lazily to turn the quill back into a match. "Again, Miss Granger."
This time Hermione's voice was rather squeaky. "Astula Verto!"
The matchstick turned into a cotton swab, complete with earwax.
Harry couldn't help but grin over the snickers and looked over to catch Daniel's eye—she was slipping her wand back into her cloak sleeve. But his glance was cut short by McGonagall—
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Zabini, as the two of you seem to find this so very amusing, perhaps you'd like to demonstrate for the class?"
The pair looked at each other and shrugged, doing their best to keep their faces straight. "Which of us would you, Professor?" asked Blaise amiably.
She pursed her lips, nostrils flaring. "How kind of you to volunteer, Mr. Zabini."
Blaise drew his wand from his cloak—when he'd replace it Harry didn't know, but he was quickly regretting not thinking of it himself—and said in as bored a tone as he could muster, "Astula verto."
How the professor could manage any more disapproval in her expression Harry did not know, but as Blaise's matchstick grew thinner, rounder, and sharper he could almost see the veins on her forehead waiting to burst. "And you, Mr. Potter!" she commanded.
Harry shrugged and attempted the same nonchalance that Blaise had so masterfully displayed. "Astula verto."
Though McGonagall thoroughly inspected their needles, she could find nothing to critique about them. The boys had made sure of that—ever since Blaise suggested they as Slytherins should show the Gryffindors which house was better he, Harry, Daniel, and Tracey had been practicing until they could make their matches into needles of all different sizes. Should anyone look into the classroom Professor Snape had advised them to use, they would wonder whether someone with an overwhelming amount of earwax had started a sewing club. On further inspection, they would be particularly confused by those cotton swabs that seemed rather to be steel wool swabs, from Daniel's earlier attempts at the spell they'd found in the back of 101 Prank Spells Every Wizard Should Know, which Blaise had borrowed from his brother.
"Very well," said the Professor quietly. "I suppose you've earned back the ten points you lost at the beginning of class." Harry couldn't help but grin again—he wouldn't want Professor Snape getting after him for losing points for the house. "However," she continued, not letting them dwell on their little victory for long, "You have also earned yourselves detention for disruptive behavior in the classroom. Let's say... This Friday afternoon?"
It was clearly supposed to be a harsh punishment, as she timed it perfectly to overlap with Flying but apparently McGonagall hadn't heard that Harry had been banned from the class by Professor Snape or that Blaise had been trying to think of ways to get himself banned all week. Though Draco, seated next to Pansy in the back corner, whispered quite loudly to the girl about favoritism, the boys did not complain, and McGonagall began her lecture with increased furiousity.
For homework, they were assigned to write two scrolls on improper uses of magic, with particular focus on the punishments for them.
Yet Harry and Blaise sauntered out of class feeling quite proud of themselves. They joined Daniel and Tracey with silent grins, but did not dare speak out so close to the classroom.
But Hermione was not so keen to avoid them. With Neville Longbottom in tow she blocked a doorway to stand storming in the quartet's path.
"Oh look," said Blaise humorously. "It's Gryffindor's brightest squib—oh, and Longbottom, too."
"How did you do it?" Hermione demanded furiously, ignoring the boy's wit. "I've read through our year's transfiguration text twice, and there were no spells for that sort of cheap magic in there!"
"Cheap magic?" demanded Tracey. She flushed as she remembered too many failed attempts at the quill-making spell. "I'd like to see you pull them off."
"Maybe you need to expand your reading list," added Harry, though from the three hefty library volumes she hadn't managed to fit into her book bag he doubted that were the case.
Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Well, I will not be wasting my time with such filthy magic—"
"Filthy magic?" repeated Daniel, quietly, coldly. "No matter what magic comes from our wands, it will never be so filthy as magic from yours."
Harry didn't get it, but from the sudden gawk that Hermione's face seemed fixed in whatever insult the quiet girl had intended was certainly serious.
"For once Harper has managed to make a good point!" declared Blaise. "Now if you could step aside, some of us use doorways to pass through, not to contaminate."
Hermione continued to gawk at them for a minute, but then she gnashed her teeth together and glared at Harry. "You of all people!" she snapped at him. "Honestly, from all that I've read I would have expected you to be—at least in some way—"
Harry almost thought he saw tears in the girl's eyes as she wheeled about and ran across the courtyard, hugging her books tightly to her chest. Neville took only one glance at the Slytherins and turned quickly to trip after her.
"Well that was rude," commented Tracey. "Potions next, right?"
They were the first into the classroom, preferring to spend their twenty minute break discussing what spells they could try out next than loitering in the halls with their classmates. Or they thought, at least, that they were alone as they lay claim to their seats, but then Professor Snape stepped out of the storage room. He did not look altogether thrilled to see them.
"Don't you four want to be out in the hallways while you still have the time?" he asked in a monotone.
As usual, it was Blaise who first addressed the Professor for the group. Harry was still angry about flying lessons, Daniel was too quiet in speaking to the adults for anyone to hear, and Tracey was—well, Harry doubted she could think of an answer to the question, frankly. But Blaise was both confident and quick thinking, if a bit verbose.
"Quite frankly, sir, the classroom is a much better place for us," he said with his easy grin. "Out in the hallways we can hardly hear each other, and Harry here seems to attract enough attention for us to not be able to go ten feet without someone listening in. Not that it is particularly necessary that we aren't overheard, of course, but it is certainly annoying and—"
"I hope it wasn't your tongue that landed you and Mr. Potter in detention, Mr. Zabini," Snape cut in with a raised eyebrow. That certainly quieted the boy, and Harry wondered at his embarrassment—but he was more amazed that the man had already heard about their punishment.
"No, sir," said Harry, braving his nerves around the potions master. "We just..."
"We showed that Granger girl who's who!" declared Tracey. She had a grin on her face now, seeming completely at ease confessing to the teacher. "She won't be so eager to show off her so-called skills now!"
A slight smile ghosted Snape's face. "And how, exactly, did you do that?"
"Harry and Blaise turned her matchstick into a quill when she was trying to show off in front of the class!" Tracey replied. The boys flinched at her chatty admission, but the professor just glanced at them without reprimand. "And when she tried again Daniel turned it into a cotton swab—a really gross one! McGonagall thought it was those two again and made them do the needle spell, but even though they did it right she still gave them detention."
"A cotton swab?" repeated Snape. His eyes looked almost lazily back at the boys. "Surely you two could have thought of something better than a quill?"
"We were thinking of blowing it up, sir, but Daniel said that might be vandalism," said Harry. "Besides, we couldn't find a good spell for it."
Snape's other eyebrow darted up, but as Draco, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle entered the room his face relaxed back to apathy.
"If I may suggest keeping your showing up of Miss Granger out of the classroom," the man advised, turning away. "Detention your second week of school will not reflect well on you in the future,
I am afraid."
"Good afternoon, Professor," fretted Malfoy, choosing the desk next to the boys'.
"Mr. Malfoy," the man replied, but he was already sweeping back into the storage room.
When Harry turned to face Draco, he found the boy beaming with an enthusiasm he never mustered unless the recipient of his emotion was himself. "You were right," he declared. "Knowing about it ahead of time would have ruined the fun. Congratulations, that was brilliant."
The rest of the class began filtering into the room, so they took their seats quietly, but did not even bother to try keeping the smug looks off their faces. When Hermione came in with the final bell, Blaise nudged Harry. He was grinning as he nodded towards the girl. Harry looked up at her, and felt a jolt of satisfaction at her raised shoulders and jerking movements. Yet when she turned to grab the books out of her bag and he caught sight of the red rims around her puffy eyes, he couldn't help but wonder what he'd gotten himself into.
