-Chapter Eleven-
The Occamy Army
The day of the Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch match dawned stormy just like every other day of that year. Albus, feeling extremely ill, dragged himself to the Great Hall. The magical ceiling of the Great Hall was taking a beating, and lightning flashed across the enchanted sky. Rain pattered on the windows, and the wind made a pitiful howling noise.
It wasn't very auspicious. Desperately needing someone to supply him with a sick bucket, Albus sat down at the Slytherin table. The mood was very gloomy, and nobody really had high hopes to win in the current weather. Albus turned around to watch the Gryffindors. James looked a bit nervous, too, and he kept eying the ceiling of the Great Hall, clearly worried about the violent weather.
The seven Slytherin players and the seven Gryffindor players left the Great Hall at the same time. They made their ways to the separate changing rooms. Albus was close to fainting again. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to beat his brother again.
"Do your best!" said Hemley once they had all finished changing into their emerald and green Quidditch robes. "Uh—and try to kill the Gryffindors. Play as dirty as possible. That's all. Let's head out." Holding their brooms, the seven players walked out onto the Quidditch pitch. It was pouring, and many umbrellas were visible among the crowd. Everyone except for the Slytherins booed loudly at the Slytherin team's arrival. A few moments later, the Gryffindors walked out. They were greeted with deafening cheering. Many people were shouting James' name in approval.
Albus scowled. The Slytherins and the Gryffindors stood in front of each other, sizing each other up. James made a very rude hand gesture at Albus, who gladly returned it.
Madam Hooch strolled onto the pitch and said, "All right, Captains, shake hands." Olivia Wood and Hemley did so, glaring at each other and squeezing rather harder than was necessary. "Good. Let it begin!" She opened the chest and let the Bludgers and the Snitch out. Then she blew her whistle, and they were off.
Albus flew into the rain, trying not to get blown away. The wind was buffeting into him with the strength of an anvil, and he was finding it difficult to fly. What was more, the water droplets splattered onto his glasses, making it impossible for him to see. Forget the Snitch—he wasn't even able to spot the players in this mess.
Finally, he got in control of his broom and flew around the pitch. He pulled his wand from his robes and said, "Impervious!" It was easier to see, though it didn't help all that much. Albus spotted James circling the pitch, too.
"And Olivia Wood from Gryffindor gets the Quaffle," said Richie Red, one of James' prankster friends, from the commentator box. "She's zooming through the pitch, heading for the goals! It's hard to see—where did she go? Oh yeah, found her. She aims, she scores! Hemley, the Slytherin Keeper and Captain, misses! He's a loser, just like all Slytherins. It wasn't hard at all. Ten to nil, Gryffindor!"
Albus gritted his teeth and doubled his efforts to find the Snitch. The rain pounded down on the pitch even harder, making the conditions unbearable. Even Richie Red had to stop commentating because he couldn't see properly. Albus now virtually had no clue what was going on in the game.
Then he heard a strangled screeching noise. It was so loud that it seemed to vibrate through the pitch. It sent shivers down Albus' spine, and he halted, alarmed. What was happening?
"What was that?" Richie Red said into the magical microphone, sounding confused and worried.
Albus squinted through the heavy rain, seeing blurry silhouettes emerging from it. The screeching reached a higher pitch, tearing at Albus' eardrums. The foggy figures suddenly became clearer as they approached him, and Albus' heart nearly stopped.
There were nearly fifty of them. They were huge, fifteen-foot-long serpents. That wasn't all. They had feathery plumes that enabled them to fly, and their eyes blazed with fury. They swooped through the pitch, emitting the same screeching noise.
Albus let out a yell and backed away on his broom, his heart pounding frantically. If they were serpents, he should be able to understand them. Albus could barely hear them through the pounding of the rain, but if he concentrated...
"Prey. Prey. Prey."
Albus' mind reeled.
"What are those things?" James whispered from behind him, his eyes widened in shock. Albus whirled around in surprise, not having seen him.
Chaos reigned. The people below were screaming and running off the pitch toward the entrance of the school, but the strange flying serpents did not let them. They flapped their wings and and wreaked havoc, destroying a huge part of the stands.
Then the plumed serpents spotted the two brothers suspended in the air.
"Prey. Prey. Prey."
"GO!" Albus shouted. The brothers shot off through the pitch, the serpents hot on their tail.
They both saw the Snitch at the same time. It was there, hovering a few feet below them, its tiny wings fluttering bravely against the cruel wind and rain. The two brothers turned rivals locked eyes with each other. They both dove for the Snitch at the same time. Alarmed, the Snitch sped off, its miniscule wings flapping quicker and harder in order to escape from its pursuers.
Albus pushed his broom harder, and so did James. They were neck and neck, the serpents screeching madly behind them. Albus did not take his eyes off the Snitch. He forgot about the serpents and the fact that everyone on the pitch was in danger. His ears blocked out the screams of the students, the shouts of the staff, and the screeches of the fifteen-foot-long winged serpents. The only thing he was aware of was the Snitch and his brother.
Albus reached out with his left hand, and James reached out with his right hand. Then, quite suddenly, James spiraled away. Albus' hand closed around the Golden Snitch, and then something with the force of a hundred Bludgers hurled into his side.
Albus was knocked off the broom more than fifty feet above the ground. He felt himself falling, and blearily wondered whether every Quidditch match would end this way for him.
Then he stopped an inch above the ground. He was suspended in the air, his nose barely touching the blades of grass, before the magic holding him was released, and he fell to the ground with a gasp.
"Get up!" yelled Irving, pulling Albus to his feet. "Run! Get to the castle! The flying serpents are Occamies!" Irving raised his wand and aimed it at an Occamy. The plumed serpent was blasted backwards a few yards, though the spell did not hinder it much.
"WHAT DID I SAY?" Irving thundered. "RUN!"
Something seemed to work in Albus' stupefied mind at the urgency in Irving's voice, and he pocketed the Snitch he had caught. He ran across the pitch, his shoes throwing up mud as he ran. Albus kept slipping and sliding across the wet ground, unable to keep a firm grip on it.
Then he tripped. Albus threw his hands out in order to stop himself from landing face first into the mud, but that did not stop it from splattering all over him. He turned his head around to see what was happening to Irving and the rest of the staff, and suddenly wished that he hadn't.
All fifty of the Occamies were zooming towards him. Every single one of them. He let out a strangled squeak and hurried to his feet, unsure how he had managed to get up from the slippery mud. Deciding not to question it, Albus sped off toward the castle with the other students.
This made no sense. Where had they come from? Why were they all chasing after him?
He pushed himself harder, taking out his wand and whispering, "Accelero." The charm made him run faster, and soon he was nothing but a blur on the grounds. He threw another look over his shoulder, hoping that he had imagined the whole army of Occamies coming after him.
He hadn't imagined it. Even now, they were zooming after him, not bothered by the rain. Their eyes were beady and black, and all fifty pairs were locked on Albus. Even more horrified than before, Albus tried running harder. The doors of the castle were getting closer... only a few more seconds...
"Prey. Prey. Prey."
Albus threw himself into the castle. All of the students sheltered inside the entrance hall screamed as some of the screeching Occamies flew in after him, murder in their black eyes.
"Prey. Prey. Prey."
Why had the Occamies followed him in? Did they want him that badly?
"Prey. Prey. Prey."
"Impedimenta!" Albus roared, pointing his wand at the Occamies. The strength of his spell blasted the first few backwards, but it did not stop them. They pushed forward, destroying the entrance hall and scattering the suits of armor and portraits as if they were insignificant toys.
The students screamed. Albus could see James with his broom among them—evidently he and the other players had landed and gone inside the castle, which clearly wasn't safe anymore.
At that moment, the staff from outside poured in and began to shoot spells at the Occamies.
"It's me they want!" Albus shouted.
He turned back to the students and saw that they were staring at him in fury and fear.
"You're controlling them, aren't you?" James yelled over the howling wind and the Occamies' screeching.
What? How had James come to that conclusion? But James' accusation had given Albus an idea. The professors weren't able to take down the Occamies—there were simply too many.
"Somebody needs to alert the Ministry! They're trained to deal with creatures like this!" gasped Neville, waving his wand. His Stunner hit an Occamy's wing, though it did nothing whatsoever.
Would Albus' plan work? He faced the Occamies, and they all saw the deadly glint in his eyes. The dark sensation took over him again, and he hissed, "Stop! Stop, or I'll kill you." All of the professors and the students stared at him in shock, and he knew that he was speaking Parseltongue again.
The Occamies paused, confused. They regarded him fearfully. He was a skinny twelve-year-old with untidy hair and crooked glasses, but there was a dark power within him, and they could sense it. They could not stop him... but they had to try.
"Leave us alone," Albus hissed, not caring that everyone was staring at him in fear. What did they think of him? Surely, what he had just done had proved James right.
"Prey. Prey. Prey."
His plan hadn't worked. They leapt at him, looking crazed and desperate. He jumped aside, the dark sensation leaving him. It was replaced with exhaustion, and he felt dizzy. His vision blurred, and he tried not to collapse. But his legs could not support him, and he sunk to the floor.
The Occamies reared backwards for a moment, ready to impale him on their many sharp teeth. Albus covered his head with his hands, knowing that it would not help.
Then the Ministry workers arrived with a bang. The whole entrance hall was blasted apart by the force of their spells, and the Occamies were taken by surprise. Screeching and sobbing with failure, they thrashed around as ropes bound them to the ground, ripping their great wings.
"Prey. Prey. Prey."
Albus removed his hands from his face to see the Ministry workers standing triumphantly by the army of the Occamies, a man that Albus recognized at their head. It was Drake Edgeworth, the powerful and popular Head of the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
"Everyone should go to the Great Hall to await further news," Edgeworth said. "As for you, little Slytherin, you'll be coming with us."
Albus gasped, "N-No! I-I didn't—it w-wasn't m-me!"
Edgeworth shook his head. "I never trusted you, you know. Ever since I saw you on at your father's Ministry birthday party. And now, you're a Parseltongue and you were controlling the Occamies, but they must have gotten out of your hands."
"IT WASN'T ME!" Albus screamed at the top of his voice. His eyes flashed sinisterly. Edgeworth and his colleagues stepped backwards, suddenly looking scared.
Albus felt murderous. The dark sensation took over him again, and he stepped forward. "You're an idiot," he snarled right to Edgeworth's face. "Why would I be controlling them if they were all coming after me? Why don't you think before accusing the first Slytherin in sight?"
Albus met Edgeworth's hazel eyes, and saw that they were blazing with hatred. He had just made an enemy—an enemy that was sure to become the Minister of Magic one day. Uh-oh. The dark sensation went away, and Albus felt dazed and tired again.
"What's the meaning of this?" somebody shouted from behind Albus. There were rapid footsteps. Albus' father, Uncle Ron, and several more Aurors came running onto the scene.
"We came by Floo powder," Uncle Ron explained to Edgeworth hurriedly.
Edgeworth ignored Uncle Ron and curled his lip as he looked at Harry. "Your son has attacked the school by using Parseltongue. He has been disrespectful—"
"How dare you?" Albus' father snarled. "How dare you accuse him?"
"Stop being biased, Potter," snapped Edgeworth. "He's a Slytherin. He's a powerful wizard and a Parselmouth. It's time you started looking at the real threat!"
Harry froze. Every adult became rigid and regarded Albus with shock—professors, Aurors, and Edgeworth's lot included. Albus, utterly confused, gave his father a questioning look.
"I-It's not him," Harry insisted, though his voice faltered. "Leave him alone, Edgeworth. What happened today wasn't Al's fault."
"It was! I saw him! He was practically glowing with evil!" James said loudly from the crowd of students. Several of them nodded in agreement.
"James," Harry said warningly, and his oldest son shut up.
He turned next to his youngest son, who was close to tears. "Al, no one blames you. Come on, let's go to the Headmaster's Office. You can tell us the story then." He put his arm around Albus' shoulders comfortingly and led him to the gargoyle which guarded Triton's office. The rest of the adults followed, giving Albus suspicious looks.
Triton was already there. Albus fumed once more. Had Triton been sitting at his desk the whole time that the school had been in trouble? And Albus was being blamed! He had the savage urge to use his wand to jinx both Triton and Edgeworth into jelly.
The dark sensation consumed him for a third time, and he glowed bright green very briefly. The light was so quick that you would have missed it if you blinked, but everyone seemed to see it. They all stepped backwards. Then the dark feeling left him for a third time. He stumbled, suddenly very sleepy.
Harry seemed to recover from Albus' glowing. "Tell me what h-happened," his father said, his voice shaking slightly.
Albus remembered something. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the Golden Snitch. Its wings were fluttering half-heartedly now. "Um—I caught it."
Everybody stared. He slipped the Snitch back into his pocket and told them what had happened. He told them that he had been trying to stop the Occamies, and that they had been going after him.
Fortunately, Neville chose this moment to speak. "He's telling the truth. I saw them. They didn't care much about the rest of us. They just shot toward him from the start."
Edgeworth's face contorted with fury. "B-But—he's dangerous, damn it—"
"He hasn't done anything wrong!" Harry said furiously. "You will not point fingers—"
"ENOUGH!" Triton yelled. He looked angry. "We have already agreed that what has happened today is not Mr. Potter's fault. Whether he is dangerous or not is beside the point."
Albus was surprised at Triton's support.
"Can I go back?" Albus asked. He felt very tired, and the only thing he wanted to do was sleep. He knew that James, Rylon, and the rest of the school would be after him, but he simply wanted the day to end. Anything was better than staying here and watching his father fight with idiots like Edgeworth.
"Yes, you can," Harry agreed. "Remember, we know that you didn't do this, all right?"
Albus nodded unconvincingly. He began to go out, but a hand stopped him. It was Irving. "Your broomstick," Irving said coldly, thrusting Albus' Firebolt at him. Albus took it quietly, not looking at Irving as he thanked him.
Then Albus left. He waited for a few seconds by the door. All was silent, and then the adults started talking. He had made his decision. He was going to eavesdrop. He had to know what was going on, and they weren't going to tell him otherwise. He pressed his ear against the door, hoping that they would be too busy in their conversation to catch him listening to them.
