Chapter 10

The ceiling of the Great Hall was still gloomy following the previous night's rainstorm, with clouds of steely grey hovering over them as the Gryffindor's made their way over to the Gryffindor table and to receive their new timetable from Professor McGonagall. As Harry, Ron, Krystal and Hermione sat down they overheard Fred and George with their friend, Lee Jordan, discussing ways to get into the Triwizard Tournament.

Krystal picked up the piece of parchment laid in front of her by McGonagall and began to examine hers, and compared it to Hermione's.

"Hmm, today's not bad for me. I'm outside all morning. Herbology with Hufflepuff...and Care of Magical Creatures with….oh f-" (Krystal then said a word which made Hermione scowl) "we're still with Slytherins!" she howled and threw her timetable down on the table again.

"I have double Divination with Ron this afternoon." Harry groaned.

"Haha! Too bad for you, I have extra Charms." Krystal said. "I've been getting straight "O's" in all my Charms classes and practice essay's for the past two years, now I'm taking extra Charms, so we'll have some classes with Flitwick together," she explained quickly.

"Sounds great!" Hermione said airly, as she buttered herself some toast. "You two should have given up Divination and filled it with extra potions classes, your grades in that class are awfully low…"

"You're eating again, I notice." Krystal said, pointing to Hermione's butter-soaked toast.

"Yes, well, I guess there are better ways to freeing house-elves than starving myself." Hermione shrugged.

"Yeah, and you were hungry!" Ron grinned.

There was a sudden rustling above them, as hundreds of owls came flooding in through the windows, delivering parcels to all the students.

Neville Longbottom got his usual parcel from home, he received a pair of socks, his dragon-hide gloves and a new remembrall.

Hermione and Ron both got letters from their parents, wishing them a good term.

Harry scowled over to Draco Malfoy's table, where he received a package from home containing hundreds of sweets and trinkets.

Harry and Krystal glanced over to each other for a second, and then turned away. Krystal knew Harry was holding the same, empty feeling in their stomachs, as nearly everyone in the hall apart from the two of them had received something from a loving family.

Was it jealousy? Krystal thought to herself.

Harry returned to eating his porridge and ignored the anxiety and jealousy. Had Sirius gotten his letter yet? Had something happened to him?

Harry's anxiety had lasted all through breakfast and down to the greenhouses for Herbology. He immediately snapped out of it when Professor Sprout made them ooze pus from these strange looking plants.

"Wait, we have to do WHAT?" said Seamus Finnigan, sounding revolted.

"Pus, Finnigan, pus," said Professor Sprout, repeating the word, "and it's extremely valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus."

Squeezing the bubotubers was disgusting, but oddly satisfying.

As each swelling was popped, a large amount of thick yellowish-green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of petrol. They caught it in the bottles as Professor Sprout had indicated, and by the end of the lesson had collected several pints.

"This'll keep Madam Pomfrey happy," said Professor Sprout, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. "An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples."

"Like poor Eloise Midgen," said Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff, in a hushed voice. "She tried to curse hers off."

"Silly girl," said Professor Sprout, shaking her head. "But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end."

The bell sounded that signalled the end of class. The Gryffindors made their way down to Care of Magical Creatures, still stinking of the weird petrol-like smell.

Hagrid was standing outside his hut, one hand on the collar of his enormous black boarhound,Fang. There were several open wooden crates on the ground at his feet, and Fang was whimpering and straining at his collar, apparently keen to investigate the contents more closely.

As they drew nearer, an odd rattling noise reached their ears, punctuated by what sounded like minor explosions.

"Mornin'!" Hagrid said, grinning at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Be'er wait fer the Slytherins, they won' want ter miss this - Blast-Ended Skrewts!"

"Come again?" said Ron.

Hagrid pointed down into the crates.

"Eurgh!" squealed Lavender Brown, jumping backward.

"Eurgh" just about summed up the Blast-Ended Skrewts in Harry's opinion. They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads.

There were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They were giving off a very powerful smell of rotting fish.

Every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small phut, it would be propelled forward several inches.

"I thought we migh' like ter raise them," Hagrid said as the Slytherins finally approached. "We could make a project outta it!"

"And why would we want to do that?" Said Draco Malfoy loudly. "They don't even look like they have any magical properties, or even good enough to keep as a bleeding pet!"

"Just because they're not very pretty, it doesn't mean they're not useful," Hermione snapped. "Dragon blood's amazingly magical, but you wouldn't want a dragon for a pet, would you?"

The Quartet smiled at Hagrid, who beamed back at them.

"I dunno where I'd be without you four." He said, proudly.

"Okay, class." Hagrid continued. "You might wanna remove your outer robes, they're flammable to the ones that spit fire. And use your dragon Hide gloves."

Krystal, Harry and Hermione looked nervously at each other and they rolled up the sleeves of their school shirts.

The lesson was just short of a nightmare. The Skrewts stings would explode, sting or burn a student every five minutes. Krystal had to be rushed up to the Hospital wing after a severe burn all up her arms.

Hagrid called off the lesson early as nearly all the students had sustained injuries.

The three Gryffindors headed off for lunch.

They sat down at the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to lamb chops and potatoes.

Hermione began to eat so fast that Harry and Ron stared at her.

"Er - is this the new stand on elf rights?" said Ron. "You're going to make yourself puke instead?"

"No," said Hermione, with as much dignity as she could muster with her mouth bulging with sprouts. "I just want to get to the library."

"What?" said Ron in disbelief. "Hermione - it's the first day back! We haven't even got homework yet!"

Hermione shrugged and continued to shovel down her food as though she had not eaten for days.

"Come on," Harry said to Ron and Hermione after they had finished. "We better go see Krystal."

"No, you can't!" Hermione snapped. "I've got Arithmancy and you two have Divination!"

Harry signed.

"Let's just skip it!" Ron said airly. "Krystal gets to miss her afternoon classes and we don't! How is that fair?"

"If you skip class, I'll tell Professor McGonagall." Hermione said shrilly. "Krystal has an excuse."

Then she leapt to her feet, said, "See you at dinner!" and departed at high speed.

"You shouldn't have mentioned skipping lessons in front of Hermione." Harry said to Ron quietly as they watched her rush off to her class.

When the bell rang to signal the start of afternoon lessons, Harry and Ron set off for North Tower where, at the top of a tightly spiraling staircase, a silver stepladder led to a circular trapdoor in the ceiling, and the room where Professor Trelawney lived.

The familiar sweet perfume spreading from the fire met their nostrils as they emerged at the top of the stepladder.

As ever, the curtains were all closed; the circular room was bathed in a dim reddish light cast by the many lamps, which were all draped with scarves and shawls. Harry and Ron walked through the mass of occupied chintz chairs and poufs that cluttered the room, and sat down at the same small circular table.

"Good day," said the misty voice of Professor Trelawney right behind Harry, making him jump.

"My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars," she said. "The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle…"

An hour and a half later, with their hands filled with sheets of parchments and lots of homework, Trelawney excused them.

"Miserable old bat," said Ron bitterly as they joined the crowds descending the staircases back to the Great Hall and dinner. "That'll take all weekend, that will…"

"Lots of homework?" said Hermione brightly, catching up with them. "Professor Vector didn't give us any at all!"

"Well, bully for Professor Vector," said Ron moodily.

They reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people queuing for dinner. Harry spotted Krystal near the front of the line. Bandages covering her arms, but looking happy nonetheless and let them cut through the line in front of her.

"Arms feeling better?" Harry asked her.

"Yeah, they'll recover fully by tomorrow." Krystal grinned, and gave Hermione a quick hug.

They had just joined the front, when a loud voice rang out behind them.

"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"

Harry, Ron, Krystal and Hermione turned. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there, each looking thoroughly pleased about something.

"What?" said Ron shortly.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear. "Listen to this!"

FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

Malfoy looked up.

"Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he crowed.

Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish

and read on:

Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.

"And there's a picture, Weasley!" said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house - if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him.

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," said Krystal, as she pulled at Ron's arm. "C'mon, Ron…"

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Krystal?" sneered Malfoy. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

"You know your mother, Malfoy?" said Krystal - both Harry and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy - "that expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink.

"Don't you dare insult my mother, you sickening half-breed!"

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then!" Krystal screamed, turning away to face her friends.

Krystal felt some white-hot graze the side of her face. Knowing immediately Malfoy had just missed her with a curse, she turned around and plunged her hands in her robes for her wand when a BANG had erupted in the middle of the Great Hall.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing.

There was a terrified silence in the hall.

Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Krystal — at least, his normal eye was looking at her; the other one was pointing into the back of his head.

"Did he get you?" He growled to her.

"No." Krystal said, breathing heavily. "Missed me."

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted at her.

"Leave...what?!" Krystal said, bewildered.

"Not you, him!" He said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just tried to take the ferret.

Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.

"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again - it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…"

Krystal and the other Gryffindors had gathered around and watched in amusement, laughing as Moody bounced Malfoy around the Great Hall.

"Professor Moody!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed as she approached the racket. "What...are you doing?"

"Teaching." Moody said simply, still bouncing the ferret.

"Moody...IS THAT A STUDENT?!" McGonagall screamed.

"Yep."

"NO!" And with a wave of the Professor's wand, Malfoy had resumed his normal form again.

"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall wealdy.

"Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock -"

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"

"I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.

Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered something in which the words "my father" were distinguishable.

"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father of old, boy… You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son… you tell him that from me… Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"

"Yes," said Malfoy resentfully.

"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape…Come on, you…"

And he seized Malfoy's upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons.

Fred and George had just approached the four Gryffindors.

"Moody!" Fred said. "How cool is he?"

"Beyond cool," said George.

"Supercool," said the twins' best friend, Lee Jordan, beside George. "We had him this afternoon," he told Harry and Ron.

"What was it like?" said Harry eagerly.

Fred, George, and Lee exchanged looks full of meaning.

"Never had a lesson like it," said Fred.

"He knows, man," said Lee.

"Knows what?" said Ron, leaning forward.

"Knows what it's like to be out there doing it," said George impressively.

"Doing what?" said Harry.

"Fighting the Dark Arts," said Fred.

"He's seen it all," said George.

"Mazing," said Lee.

Ron dived into his bag for his schedule.

"We haven't got him till Thursday!" he said in a disappointed voice.

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