"What happened, Harry? What happened? Is he ill? But you can cure him can't you?" Colin had run down from his seat and was dancing alongside them as they left the field. Ron gave another belch and Toushiro's snow-white locks narrowly missed being covered in slime.
"Oooh," Colin said, fascinated and raised his camera. "Can you hold him still, Harry?"
"Move out of the way, Creevey/Colin!" Toushiro and Harry both said angrily. Toushiro want to touch the slime on Ron's shirt no more than he already did.
"Nearly there, Ron," Hermione said as a little run-down cabin came into view. Toushiro supposed that was where Hagrid lived.
They were within twenty feet of the cabin when the front door opened. Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing robes of the palest mauve today, came striding out.
"Quick, behind here," Harry hissed. Toushiro groaned inwardly. God forbid this to end already. He along with the other two was dragged behind a nearby bush.
"It's a simple matter if you know what you are doing," Lockhart was saying loudly to Hagrid. "I'll sign one of my books and send one over tonight—I'm surprised you didn't have one already." And he strode away to the castle.
They waited until Lockhart was completely out of sight before knocking gently on Hagrid's door.
Hagrid appeared at once, looking very grumpy, but he brightened up once he saw who it was.
"If it isn't 'Arry and the new transfer! Come in, come in—thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again—"
Harry hastily explained the situation to Hagrid as Toushiro washed his hands clean of the sticky slime at the sink.
"Better out than in," Hagrid said cheerfully, plunking a large copper basin in front of Ron. "Get 'em all out, Ron." Toushiro sat down on a chair as well.
"It wasn't the easiest curse to cast at the best of times and with a broken wand—" Hermione mumbled anxiously, mostly to herself. Toushiro was instead paying attention to the conversation between Harry and Hagrid.
"What does Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?"
"Givin' me advice on getting' kelpies out of the well," growled Hagrid. "Like I don't know. An' bangin' 'bout some banshee he banished. If a word of what he said was true, I'll eat my kettle."
Hermione sounded offended as she defended Lockhart.
"I think you are being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore only picks the best man for the job—"
"He was the on'y man for the job," Hagrid corrected. "Hard ter get a new man, now. Many are hesitant in gettin' the position. Think it's jinxed, yer see." Toushiro snorted softly. Makes sense.
"So tell me, who was he tryin' ter curse?" Hagrid said, jerking his head at Ron.
"Malfoy called Granger a mudblood," Toushiro spoke up for the first time. Ron belched another mouthful of slugs. Hagrid looked outraged.
"He didn'!"
"He did." Toushiro snapped. Patience and tolerance just wasn't something the irritable youth had to spare at the moment.
"That jerk! It was the most insulting thing he could ever think of for a muggle-born wizard!" Ron exclaimed angrily before he dodged down and another wave of slugs made their appearance.
"Well, I don't blame yer fer tryin' ter curse him, Ron. Bu' maybe it was a good thing yer wand backfired. 'Spect Lucious Malfoy would've come marchin' up ter school if yer'd cursed his son. Least yer not in trouble."
Harry had an unbelievable look on his face, but he kept his mouth shut. Most probably because he couldn't open it due to the Treacle toffee he just ate. That stuff looked sickly sweet and sticky, Toushiro was glad that he never touched it.
Soon after, they—Toushiro excluded—were in a smooth conversation—with the exception of a few waves of slimy pests—about trivial stuff such as the charmed giant pumpkins for the upcoming Halloween Feast. Toushiro mostly listened, filing away a few interesting things he heard for later investigation.
It was only until lunchtime did they (Harry, Ron and Hermione) heard their stomachs voice their needs loudly. Hermione blushed while the two boys rubbed the back of their heads in embarrassment.
"Hn," Without waiting for the trio to finish saying their goodbyes to Hagrid, the young taicho was the first to lead the way back to the castle. The temperature was getting warmer—just slightly—and Toushiro just couldn't stand it, his irritable mood was still at its peak.
They did barely set foot in the much cooler entrance hall when a stern voice rang out, "There you are, Potter—Weasley." Professor McGonagall was walking towards them with a stern expression. Toushiro stopped too, curious. "You'll be doing your detentions this evening."
"What're we doing, Professor?" asked Ron. He nervously suppressed a burp.
"You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch. No magic please—elbow grease."
Argus Filch, Toushiro had heard that name being mentioned somewhere along the corridors by students. He was the very much hated caretaker of the school. Toushiro even had the pleasure of meeting him once.
And that was the first time the white-haired youth was accused of littering when he flicked a speck of dust from his sleeve. Let's just say that the meeting wasn't at all pleasant.
"And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail."
"Oh n—Professor, can't I go to the trophy room too?" Harry asked desperately. Toushiro could certainly understand Harry's thoughts right now, if it was him, he wouldn't want to see that face—or rather faces—either.
"Certainly not, Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o'clock sharp both of you." Professor McGonagall turned her eyes to the last male of the group, scanning his not-so-warm attire with a disapproving stare. "I do believe it's rather cold to be wearing such attire, Hitsugaya."
Toushiro shrugged, he had his arms crossed casually, showing no signs of discomfort.
"I'm better this way." With one last frown in his direction, Professor McGonagall turned and disappeared around the corner.
Harry's POV
Saturday afternoon seemed to melt away, and in what seemed to be seconds, it was five minutes to eight, and Harry was dragging his feet along the second-floor corridor to Lockhart's office. He gritted his teeth and knocked.
The door flew open at once. Lockhart beamed down at him.
"Ah, here's the scalawag! Come in, Harry, come in—"
Shining brightly on the walls by many candles were countless framed photographs of Lockhart. He had even signed a few of them. Another large pile lay at his desk.
"You can address the envelopes!" Lockhart exclaimed as if it was a great honor. "The first one is to—" Harry drowned out Lockhart's useless ramblings and gave occasional monosyllabic response when he felt like it. Overall, it was boring.
The candles burned lower and lower, casting eerie shadows on the many moving faces of Lockhart watching him. Harry moved his aching hand over what felt like the thousandth envelope, writhing out Veronica Smethley's address. It must be nearly time to leave, thought Harry miserably. Please let it be nearly time…
Then, he heard something.
It was a voice, a voice that chilled to the bone marrow, a voice of breath-taking, ice-cold venom.
"Come…come to me…let me rip you…let me tear you…let me kill you…"
Harry jumped up from his seat; a large lilac blot appeared on Veronica Smethley's street.
"What?" he asked loudly.
"I know!" Lockhart exclaimed, glad that he finally had an enthusiastic response from Harry. "Six solid months at the top of the best-seller list! Broke all records!"
"No," Harry said frantically. "That voice!"
"Sorry? What voice?"
"That—that voice that said—didn't you hear it?" Lockhart looked at Harry in high astonishment.
"What are you talking about Harry? Perhaps you are getting drowsy? Great Scott—look at the time! Time really flies doesn't it?"
Harry didn't answer. He was straining his ears to hear the voice again, but there was no sound except for Lockhart telling him he mustn't expect a treat like this every time he got detention. Feeling dazed, Harry left.
It was so late that the Gryffindor common room was almost empty. Harry went straight up to the dormitory. There were two beds empty, one was Ron's and the other was Hitsugaya's. He pulled on his pajamas, got into bed and waited. Half an hour later, Ron arrived, nursing his right arm and smelling strongly of polish.
"My muscles have all seized up," Ron groaned, sinking onto his bed. "Fourteen times he made me buff up that Quidditch cup before he was satisfied. And I had another slug attack all over a Special Award for Services to the School. Took ages to get the slime off… How's it with Lockhart?"
Keeping his voice low so as to not wake Neville, Dean and Seamus, Harry told Ron exactly what he heard.
"And Lockhart said he couldn't hear it?" said Ron. Harry could see him frowning in the moonlight. "D'you think he was lying? But I don't get it—even if someone invisible would've to open the door."
"I know," Harry sighed, lying back on the four-poster bed, staring at the red canopy above him. "I don't get it either."
Else where in Hogwarts
"Kuso…hollow escaped."
Yay! I am finally moving onto the action! Hope you enjoyed these two chapters! See you people in the next chapter!
Please review! (Be a writer to understand the importance of every single review)
Arigato!
