NOTES: Hey everyone! Just wanted you all to know that I haven't abandoned the story or ran out of ideas. This chapter was simply the hardest to write, partly because I'm unsure of how House elves are supposed to be behave, partly because of how I've switched job positions in the same company (which also completely restructured the local branch management, and now includes yours truly) and am working 50-60+ hours a week, and partly because I was struggling with a heretofore undiagnosed Hashimoto's Disease.
Some things have gotten better, and others I have to wait for the medications to finally level out, but at least now I'm not forgetting what it is what I'm supposed to be writing while doing so. :) Now, as for my disaster quota for the year... well, thankfully there's just a few more days left of 2009. I... don't have too many unbroken bones left in my foot, as it is. :(
Now, as for... *checks* "G", dude. I don't even know where to start with you, except you're the reason why Anonymous Reviews are now turned off. I did enjoy your honesty and forthrightness in all the reviews you left. However, your opinion on suicide was controversial and not all that welcome especially since depression (and subsequent suicidal thoughts/behaviors) is a symptom of Hashimoto's. Nice that I would have been pathetic for failing any suicidal attempts even though the very root of it is an autoimmune disorder that completely destroyed my thyroid. Dude. :/ And it's not even residual irritation I'm feeling towards you. Not cool, man, not cool at all. There are many different reasons for depression and suicide, but ultimately, getting help is what's important.
Oh., but wait - I don't deserve help! &*%%^&#!
The continuing "torture" of my body and soul as it is, was more or less cured with a thyroid supplement. Now, true, that kind of depression is not all that common amongst all the other causes and treatments of depression, and there is going to be cultural differences no matter where you go, but you never know. And that is the thing. You can't find a way to help the problem if you don't know what it is, and death is a very sudden, very permanent fix to a problem that hurts far too many people. I've worked in hospice for years, and death is hard enough to handle when you've known it was going to happen months down the line and all the preparations are made. I'm not naive about suicidal tendencies.
Now, I really don't care most of the time about getting up on a soap box, which interrupts the story, and using my author's notes for sounding boards. I'm sure that there are those who have absolutely no interest. But in leaving your review anonymous, I was not given a way to contact you privately, and quite frankly, your notions are dangerous enough that I feel they need to be addressed in public. Assuming people are pathetic and don't deserve help because they botch a suicidal attempt is very dangerous, very selfish, and downright ignorant. I am grateful to family and friends that none of them possessed such a brainless view, because I would not be here today. At the worst of my moods, such a view would have driven me only to try succeeding at any attempts, and thus you do far more damage than anyone you believe may be naive enough to "force people to suffer the trials of life."
That, and there's really no "American" humor. I rarely watch American television, so I have no idea of what you're talking about. I write what I want to read, and what amuses me, and that's all there is to it.
I wish everyone a Merry Christmas, Happy Solstice, and a wonderful new year full of blessings and good tidings! Remember, there is always hope in the future, so if you do feel like life isn't worth anything anymore, don't listen to wankers like G, because they really don't know what they're talking about. Please, for your own sake, get help. I realize for many that the holidays seem to make things a little worse as far as mood goes, or just after the holidays when all the glamors have worn off and family and friends aren't as involved. You aren't alone.
Harry was released from the Hospital wing Tuesday afternoon, and he took it as a bad sign when he found himself already missing it later that night, and wondering just how soon he could return to it without being immediately shipped off to a padded room in St Mungo's.
"Do you mind?" He shoved Ron out of the bathroom stall that Ron tried following him in.
"McGonagall said one of us had to be with you at all times!" Ron told Harry, just before Harry slammed the stall door in his face.
"I don't need someone to hold my hand while I'm attending business. My bladder is shy, not suicidal!" Harry retorted. "Besides, you can't shive off Astronomy tonight just because I'm not allowed to go anymore, so you're going to have to leave me alone some time."
"Your bladder was never this shy before," Ron said, accusation in his voice.
"That's because I've never had to share a loo before!" And it wasn't just his bladder that was feeling shy. That was when Harry also noticed he was out of toilet tissue. "I hate my life," he muttered, reaching under the stall to the other side.
"That's kinda the problem, mate – the whole hate-my-life thing. Anyway, you won't be alone tonight. Colin and Ginny volunteered to baby-sit you."
Harry's hand froze in his searching quest. "What?"
"Well, Colin's just there because Ginny's not allowed in the boy's loo, but Ginny said she thought it would be nice to take you to see Hagrid, just her and you."
"And should we hold hands while we're doing so?" Harry asked sarcastically. Ron was thoughtfully silent for a moment.
"Well, I guess," Ron said finally. "As long as there's no kissing involved, Harry. She's still my little sister."
"I was being sarcastic and platonic."
There was another moment of thoughtful silence. And then, "You know, Harry, you shouldn't lead girls on like that."
What is he talking about? Harry's blind groping finally yielded toilet tissue.
"It's just not right, you know? Ginny doesn't deserve to have her heart played with."
What did I say?
"I've always considered you my best friend, Harry, but I simply won't tolerate you breaking her heart."
"Oh, for crying out loud–!" Harry considered beating his head against the wall, but that would probably have every single professor in the castle descending on him to give him a lecture on self-flagellation and to wrap him up in multiple layers of wool to protect him from doing so much as accidentally stubbing his toe on the floor. "She got over that crush by our Fourth year, Ron!"
Didn't she?
" 'm just saying, Harry."
Yes, the infirmary was looking better and better with every passing hour.
oOoOoOo
That evening, just after dinner (in which everyone surrounding Harry at his table had stared unabashed at Harry's plastic utensils and paper plate, which only made Harry's appetite wither to nothing as he contemplated many a creative way of killing Umbridge), Ron and Hermione went off to prepare their supplies for Astronomy, and Ginny and Harry made their way to Hagrid's hut. Harry was sullen and sulky, but he thought himself completely justified.
"Apparently something big is going on with Hagrid," Ginny said in an attempt to make friendly conversation.
Harry morosely kicked at the ground as he shuffled along, his hands stuffed in his pockets. So, Ron thought that Harry had the hots for his little sister? What was wrong with people? All Harry wanted was to be left alone. In fact, with the way everything was going, Harry was simply shocked that Voldemort wasn't popping up already to take his own turn at making Harry's life miserable, or attempt to end it, or gloat, or something…
"Oh look, Pookie's out," said Ginny, pointing. Harry looked up and saw Pookie crouched in a nook, beady red eyes wide as he panted heavily. "I bet Mrs. Norris was chasing him. Come here, Pookie." Ginny held out her hands and waved her fingers at Pookie. Pookie hunched down even more and bared his teeth at her.
"Oh, stop that, you mangy hefflelump," Harry muttered as he stooped and snatched up Pookie by the scruff. He thumped the pink nose when Pookie tried to take a painful nibble out of Harry's arm. Pookie laid his ears flat in irritation and huffed. "We'll take you up to Ravenclaw after we visit Hagrid."
Ginny was silent as they continued out of the castle and across the barren grounds, a cold whistling wind making them hurry, angry storm clouds moving in from the horizon. Pookie hunched down in Harry's arms, one ear flickering with interest. Both Gryffindors breathed a sigh of relief when they finally reached Hagrid's hut. A plume of smoke cheerfully streamed from the crooked chimney. Since Harry's arms were full of irritated rabbit, Ginny knocked and then pushed open the door at Hagrid's call of, "Come in!"
And for the first time since that last Quidditch game, Harry felt genuinely happy. Hagrid's own delight upon seeing Harry – despite the multiple fresh bruises that was everywhere on Hagrid's face and arms - the warm comfort of Hagrid's hut, and the knowledge that Hagrid wouldn't ever do anything so dumb as forbidding Harry the use of his own wand because he couldn't be trusted not to trip and fall on it made Harry feel warm and golden inside. He hadn't realized how much he had missed Hagrid until now.
It wasn't until he and Ginny had settled on chairs and Hagrid had passed them steaming mugs of tea (which, Harry and Ginny noted smugly, weren't those caffeine-free fruity concoctions that Umbridge had substituted, but actual Earl Grey), did Hagrid notice Pookie. "What's that?" he asked, pointing. His movements were jerky and looked as if he was sore in as many places as he was bruised.
Fang took one look at Pookie and slunk away whimpering, his tail curled up between his legs.
"This is Pookie, Luna's pet rabbit," Harry said. He held Pookie out to Hagrid for a better look.
Hagrid eyed Pookie. Pookie eyed him back.
"I didn't know that Lovegood had a rabbit," Hagrid finally said with some uncertainty.
"She picked him up at the Jusenkyo Springs."
"And he's not cursed?" Hagrid asked suspiciously.
oOoOoOo
Do not panic, Voldemort thought with apprehension. Do not freeze. Do not tense up. Do not look guilty. He willed himself to act completely defensible and rabbit-like. Do not freeze. Do not tense up. Do not look guilty. Nope; no evil mastermind eavesdropping here. Nuh uh. Just your normal, everyday, run-of-the-mill albino rabbit.
oOoOoOo
"Nah." Harry snickered. "Unless he just happens to be a snail that fell into the Spring of the Drowned Rabbit. Pookie's safe."
Hagrid eyed Pookie. "All right then, Harry. If you say so."
"Hermione and Ron told us about your brother and your trip. I'm really glad to see that you're back safely." Harry and Ginny carefully avoided looking at the livid bruises visible on Hagrid's face and arms.
"Aye." Hagrid nodded as he settled down. "Didn't go as well as I or Dumbledore had hoped. I'm glad to be back, though. I've been worried about Aragog."
oOoOoOo
Who? Voldemort thought.
oOoOoOo
"What's wrong with Aragog?" Harry asked after a long period of silence, since Ginny seemed to expect him to respond.
"Oh, he's been getting up there in years, Harry. And some enchanted car has been harassing Aragog's kids. I just hope it doesn't bother Grawp. It might scare him, you know."
Harry and Ginny exchanged looks – Ginny was somewhat amused and knowing, and Harry frowned disapprovingly at her for it. It wasn't like he had anything to do with some roaming car in the Forbidden Forest! (At least, not so far this year. Or even the last two years…)
"Well, I'm sure they can take care of themselves, Hagrid," Harry said carefully. "I mean, they are acromantulas, after all. They really don't seem to have any natural predators. Unless those predators just happen to be living under Hogwarts, but that was taken care of in my second year."
oOoOoOo
Oh yeah. Now I remember that despicable thing. And what's this about my basilisk being taken care of?
oOoOoOo
"So," said Hagrid, quickly changing the subject as he looked down at Harry with an unhappy frown, "what's this I hear about you being a gothic chicken? You all right, Harry? Hermione and Ron said you've been feeling a mite under the weather since your Quidditch accident."
Harry hunched in his seat and tried not to sulk. "Look, I'm okay, Hagrid. There's nothing wrong with me."
"Oh, sure there isn't," Ginny muttered against the rim of her mug. "You're a depressed, flightless bird with an apparent tendency for black moods."
Harry glared. "Pigs that fly should throw no stones."
"Where?" Hagrid asked, looking around.
"I'm the flying pig, Hagrid, but only because of cold water." Ginny grinned suddenly. "Don't be surprised if your Class of Magical Creatures has a lot more species present than what your original curriculum calls for."
They talked then about some of the students' curses and information of the Jusenkyo Fiasco that Dumbledore hadn't told Hagrid. Hermione and Ron didn't tell Hagrid much of that happened when he first arrived, since they were more intent on gathering information on Grawp and Hagrid's mission for Dumbledore to prevent Voldemort from trying to talk the giants into joining forces with the Death Eaters. Harry asked Hagrid some more questions on Hagrid's mission.
oOoOoOo
I was trying to what? When was this supposed to happen? Voldemort wondered. The problem with using giants is that you had to relegate a number of Death Eaters to full-time babysitting. Those who survived the baby-sitting during his last reign of darkness could very well rebel and turn away from him if he tried to bring in the giants now. Apparently, there were some things even more frightening than his own personal temper and judicious torture.
And Voldemort simply didn't have enough minions yet to make up for any losses he would accrue from killing off dissenters and rebels. No – the insight of being a rabbit day in and day out for these past weeks had taught Voldemort the subtle beauty of not biting off more than a person can chew – even if snakes, technically, don't chew, and he always thought he was more of a snake at heart than a rabbit.
(He still hadn't forgiven Radish-brains for performing the Heimlich maneuver on him just the other day after he started choking on a too-large sprig of willow.)
A remarkable, zen creature, was the rabbit. Unfortunately, Voldemort didn't get any more details on this mission for Dumbledore since Hagrid had decided he had kept the two Gryffindor students long enough.
oOoOoOo
"Well, I've gotta go check on Grawp, and you two best run along before curfew. I don't want you in any more trouble than what you're already in."
Ginny and Harry put their mugs in Hagrid's crusty-looking sink and then departed. It was twilight and the temperature had dropped. Harry carefully wrapped Pookie in a fold of his cloak to help protect him from the gusting wind, which had steadily grown worse. "We're in for a nasty one, tonight," he called to Ginny. He desperately tried not to think of how lucky they were that it hadn't started raining yet, because it surely would once he allowed himself that thought. Maybe it would snow. That would be good – snow had to linger and melt in order to trigger curses, rather than causing immediate changes.
She shrugged, completely blasé about it. "As long as the roofs don't spring a leak, we ought to be fine."
Which could mean anything, since Harry was positive that the roofs did, on occasion and quite deliberately, leak - especially when the roof was really actually a window that had decided to cleverly disguise itself upside down. Or pour, as Harry had been drenched by more than one surprise waterfall since the Jusenkyo Fiasco.
And for all of that, Harry couldn't help but shake the feeling that there was going to be a major outpouring of water in the very near future.
oOoOoOo
Voldemort made his getaway just as soon as they were safely in the warm (and usually dry) confines of Hogwarts. He heard the Brat groan as he wriggled free and darted away. He needed to think, to mull over the information he had learned, and then decide what he was going to do with it. He eventually found himself in the Pink Monstrosity's office, but figured that the cat-plastered room would be a nice, quiet place to think without being disturbed by stupid waffles or brats who inexplicably survived against all odds and logic. (He was really going to have to do something about that.)
He parked his fluffy tail beneath one of the chairs and was just settling in for a good, long think-fest when the Pink Monstrosity strutted into the office. She brightened considerably as she looked towards his direction, and Voldemort briefly thought of panicking.
"Oh, Pookie," Umbridge moaned, rather grotesquely. She fluttered her eyes and tugged at her lacy collar. Was she…? Oh dear. Now would definitely be a good time to panic.
Was it possible for a rabbit to sick up?
"Mmmmm, Pookie." Umbridge wriggled her ample hips as she tugged and moaned and otherwise seemed to have an orgasmic seizure. Voldemort tensed, ready to dash before she could touch him. But if she managed to catch him anyway and had her evil, conniving way with him, Voldemort would immediately find some hot water and give the Pink Monstrosity a very good reason why it was a bad idea to go around humping poor, defenseless creatures!
And he was almost positive that Dumbledore would give him a free pass on it, too.
"Snookums!" cried a new voice.
Wait – what?
Filch strode forward from behind, his hair freshly washed and his suspenders hanging freely by his knees. "My darling Snookums," he whispered longingly, holding out one hand to Umbridge. She giggled, and tentatively took it. "I intend," Filch said in a low voice, "to ravish you on this very desk until we're both too sore to walk!"
They were what? Voldemort began looking for the closest exit. Damn that worthless Squib janitor to the fourth layer of hell – previously only meant for selfish ice-cream men and their sticky offspring – he had closed and locked Voldemort's escape route!
Umbridge giggled again and trailed her fleshy hand down Filch's scrawny chest. "Oh, Pookie, you're just so naughty - make me scream!" She squealed as she was pushed backwards on the desk and her skirt hiked up.
Are they -? Oh, for crying out loud. Voldemort sulked. And then… Merlin's left saggy tit, the creature waxes! Both of them!
oOoOoOo
That night, Harry dreamt of talking, glowing balls of cabbage. My eyes! the cabbages cried as he picked them up one by one from their many shelves, crystal radishes that he supposed were meant to be tears delicately falling to the stone floor. My eyes!
Disturbed, Harry replaced the cabbages and instead roamed the dark, twisting halls.
oOoOoOo
He awoke the next morning, feeling gummy and worn out, his scare aching terribly. "My mind is a strange and twisted place," he muttered to no one in particular. He reached around for his slippers and bathrobe, hoping that a morning shower would help wake him up. He swiftly changed his mind as a soaking wet wolverine skulked on by, dragging a towel along.
"We're out of hot water again, Neville?"
Neville merely grunted and nosed around his bedding. Harry sighed. Tragically, the inability to have consistent hot water was starting to take a toll on the teenaged population. While he was sure some people probably didn't care for hot water, or soap, or hygiene in particular (Snape immediately sprang to Harry's mind, lips pulled back in a yellowed sneer and hair hanging in a greasy curtain), Harry rather liked feeling clean.
With a hot shower no longer an option, Harry decided to smuggle a small pillow into History of Magic (he didn't trust his transfiguration spells to last through a nap). "Don't mind me," he told Hermione and Ron as he separated from them in the classroom. Since Hermione made it a habit to kick the chairs of either of her friends whenever they tried sleeping through History of Magic this year, Harry decided he was better off sitting with Michael and Padma.
"What are you doing, Potter?" Michael asked when Harry pulled the pillow out of his bookbag and fluffed it up as Binns began his drone.
"Catching up on my sleep," Harry said. "Why else would we have History of Magic the morning after Astronomy?"
"Good point," Padma agreed with a nod of her head. Then she glared at Michael until the other boy huffed and grumbled and resumed his note taking.
"Thanks," Harry muttered. "Wake me when it's over, all right?"
"Sure, Harry. You're going to need it when you've got Potions next."
That was such a disturbing thought that Harry didn't get any sleep. Michael spent the rest of the class, smug, while Harry stared wide-eyed at Binns without seeing or hearing any of the lecture. He remembered Hermione saying something about how Snape had redone some of the curriculum that month so the classes were studying and brewing a certain subclass of potions known as ying-yang elixirs, which (from what he vaguely recalled, knowing that he had known more but it's strange what being whacked in the head with a Bludger could do to your memory) required at least two brewers who were opposite-sexed. And… he couldn't for the life of him recall what sort of ying-yang elixir they were supposed to be brewing. Something about karma…?
Harry was wide-awake when Binns dismissed the class and the students went to the next thing on their schedules. Harry found himself bustled between Hermione and Ron.
Ron was also female. Harry had noticed that earlier, but that was because there hadn't been any hot water, and it had actually taken a cup of hot (fruity, totally and disgustingly caffeine-free) tea for Neville to ready for class as himself. Ron, although comfortable enough to tolerate being female for long stretches of time, usually made the attempt to start the day as male.
Now, Harry had to wonder.
Ron seemed to notice the unspoken question on Harry's face. "Yeah, Snape said that since the guys outnumbered the girls, I've got to make up some of the difference. You'll get off easy, though."
"Me? How."
"You're not allowed sharp, pointy object, Harry," Hermione said helpfully. Harry glared at her, but she shrugged it off, unapologetic. "Ying-yang elixirs become more potent when brewed with as many opposites as possible. Not just opposite-sexed pairs, but also age. But since we're all the same age, we've also split into opposite House pairings."
"Except for one," Ron said pointedly.
"That's because Professor Snape said that Harry would be in their pairing."
"Great. A threeway." Harry kicked at the floor.
Ron snorted. "With Daphne Greengrass."
"Oh, that's not so bad-"
"And Draco Malfoy," Ron added quickly, torn between glee and horror. "So, enemies and friends? That's gotta add a few more opposites, right?"
"You've been studying!" Hermione said to Ron with a look of surprised delight. Ron's face tinged pink at her bright smile.
"Wait – I'm stuck with the smarmy ferret?"
"Ferret?" asked a new voice. "Where?"
"Hi, Theo," Hermione said over her shoulder with a friendly smile. The sight of it made Ron silently bristle. "Parvati should be just behind us."
"Thanks." Theodore Nott paused in walking, his hands jammed in his pockets as he turned towards the direction Harry and his friends had come from, until Parvati came around the corner. Ron visibly relaxed when Theodore no longer held Hermione's attention.
"Theo is paired up with Parvati in Potions," Hermione explained. "I'm with Gregory, and Ron's with Blaise."
Ron gave Harry a disturbed look. "How can you handle group therapy when Zabini flirts with you all the time?" he asked plaintively.
Harry was actually kind of oblivious to Blaise's flirting. Blaise was just so indiscriminate with his flirting, since he tended to do so with everyone – and Harry also noticed on a few occasions that Blaise had absolutely no regard for personal space whatsoever. Then again, Harry readily admitted to being clueless on flirting, regardless of sex. "Well, you are brewing as a girl, and Blaise is probably just compensating," he mumbled with a vague wave of his hand.
"For what?" Ron asked.
Harry's mind scrambled to come up with an answer that wouldn't be construed as sexual. "Not flying well?" he finally volunteered. "I think Blaise isn't all that good with a broomstick." Then he winced.
Ron, thankfully, seemed to have missed the double entendre, although Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes. As they walked to Potions, Harry tentatively asked Hermione questions on the ying-yang elixirs.
oOoOoOo
"Please take a number," the secretary said with her nasally voice without looking up from the large sheath of papers that she was slowly and methodically stamping.
"I must see Minister Fudge directly," Albus Dumbledore said, stressing his words.
The secretary glared at Albus over the rim of her glasses. "The numbers," she said, putting as much stress on her words as Albus had, "are right over there." She nodded towards the pinup next to the long line of chairs. "He will see you when it is your turn." She grumbled something about Fudge's vacation and the rearrangement of appointments as she turned back to her papers.
Since Albus knew that the two ranks of people in administration you never wanted to be on the bad side of were the secretaries and the janitors, he merely sighed and fetched himself a number: 13. A strange sensation raced up and down his spine as he carefully tucked it into his sleeve.
oOoOoOo
Harry found himself safely separated from the smarmy ferret by Daphne, who had no qualms with showing her teeth and claws at Draco when he made a snide comment about Harry's head – figuratively-speaking, of course, because even the Slytherins weren't allowed to attend Potions in their cursed forms. But there was no possible way that Daphne could protect Harry from Snape, and from the serene look on her face, she had no intention of doing so, either.
"Mister Potter," Snape said, leaning on the corner of their desk and glaring at Harry down the point of his long beak of a nose (it would have been the height of Divine Irony, Harry thought, if Snape had fallen into the Spring of the Drowned Vulture instead of Spring of the Drowned Unicorn – he already looked like a buzzard, after all), "I did not place you with two of my most dedicated Potions students merely so you can avoid labor. However, as we are all aware, due to the fragile state of the small mind you seldom put to good use, you are not allowed anything that may be misused as an object of self-harm." There was a slight pause as Snape regarded Harry with contempt, and Harry didn't bother to hide his own hatred. "Which may prove to be an insurmountable task, as we certainly cannot restrict you from air itself."
Harry opened his mouth to give Snape the response that deserved, but a solid kick to his shin from Daphne immediately disabused him of that suicidal notion.
"As such," Snape continued, drawing away from the table just enough to show his last words were a dismissal, "my Slytherins will have to make up for your lack in talent and work. Not that the imposition is hardly surprising after five years devoid of talent and work on your part. But at least it is a good opposite to contrast with these two hardworking individuals."
Harry bit his tongue.
"So why is he sitting at our table again?" Draco demanded snidely when Snape was out of what would have been a normal human being's earshot. He looked around Harry to Daphne. "And you're really not that dedicated, you know. He was just saying that for Potter's sake."
Daphne humphed and turned her nose up at Draco. She handed Harry her Potions book, the pages open to their current project. "You can read the directions while Draco and I take care of the ingredients." She sent Draco a withering glance before turning back to Harry, carefully schooling her face into a serene countenance. "At least you won't be smearing panda poo on my pages."
Draco gritted his teeth. "That was an accident!"
"Oh yes, just as it was also an accident that you jostled my elbow and knocked over our vial of lotus pollen?"
"Why are we even arguing over this?" Draco snapped. He then addressed Harry. "You can read, can't you, Potter?"
Harry, all too mindful of Snape's attention, tried to keep his voice cordial. "Yes, Malfoy. I can read."
"How's your dictation? Your annunciation? What of your-?" Draco stopped with a wince when Daphne scooted in front of Harry long enough to kick Draco in the ankle. "This is abuse," Draco muttered, grabbing his pestle with a slight flourish to begin crushing the ginger in front of him.
"That needs to be peeled first," Harry said around Daphne. Draco froze, then turned and bared his teeth at Harry in a vicious smile.
"Is that so, Potter?"
Harry pointed at Daphne's open book. He made a very valid attempt to not sound smug. "Right there in the second paragraph, fourth line. The ginger must be cleanly peeled first before being crushed to a juicy pulp."
"Oh, imagine that. You can read."
Harry thought briefly of pounding his head against the desk, and then thought otherwise. It was going to be a very long Potions class.
oOoOoOo
At first, the water had just been a trickle through the crack. It ran down the length of the pipe before it dripped off the crook. Each droplet echoed through the dark, a steadily tempo that ever so slowly increased over the time.
Within due time over the next few days, the droplets formed a puddle. As the puddle grew wider and deeper beneath Hogwarts, the droplets became fatter, heavier. The crack they escaped through widened as the pressure from thousands and thousands of tons of water pressed upon the newfound weakness.
When Hogwarts had been created a thousand years ago, Salazar Slytherin had implemented a self-repair system within the castle's magical wards, knowing full well that the Slytherin House would drown should the lake, which covered over most of the area that the Hogwarts dungeons extended (both the official and unofficial parts, as Salazar rather liked having his own secret lair of dungeons below the dungeons, which would forever cause regret with the other three founders that they said yes, Salazar, you may indeed take over the building contracts and blueprints if you promise to never again complain of Godric wearing the chainmail and leather bikini), ever flood the dungeons.
Unfortunately, Salazar Slytherin never calculated the chaotic and insidious influence of the Jusenkyo curse upon the castle's ancient wards.
oOoOoOo
All too late, it was the house elves who first realized something was wrong.
Hogwarts shrieked in pain when the crack finally split open wide, and water gushed through her wound, tearing pipes away and forcing apart structures. Frank the Hogwarts Squid felt a moment of unease during his daily swim around the lake before he found himself unexpectedly caught in the torrential pull and sucked through the gaping hole in Hogwarts's dungeon wall.
"Dickens shall halt the water!" declared one of the house elves, the most ancient of others present in the castle. He Apparated in front of the rushing torrents and spread his arms wide. The waters crashed and stopped, momentarily paused by the mighty magic of little Dickens. "Warn the others!" Dickens croaked. "Save the children!" His wizened body shook beneath the pressing force and his wispy bearded chin trembled. "Hurry, hurry!"
The house elves instantly scrambled to do just that, Apparating in and out of rooms and halls throughout the dungeons in a frenzy, snatching up the children too far away from safe exits. And then, because it was far better to be safe than sorry, they even evacuated several classrooms of their ongoing classes.
Half a dozen of the house elves popped into the Hufflepuff Common room, screeching about the flooding and to evacuate now, now, we must goes now!
Susan Bones stood on one of the Common's chairs and screamed, "Emergency evacuation number three, everyone!"
"What's that?" Justin asked as the students around him began to visible brace themselves against each other.
"You wouldn't know," Ernie said hastily, grabbing Justin's arms. "You were petrified at the time we figured these emergency evacuations." His expression was filled with muted horror. "We're getting Apparated out of Hogwarts."
"You can't Apparate in or out or around Hog-"
The house elf didn't even give Justin enough time to finish verbalizing the flaw in this plan. Apparation inside and around Hogwarts's wards is possible with house elf magic – alas, it just isn't very compatible with other living creatures, such as humans.
oOoOoOo
The Slytherins weren't any happier than their fellow dungeon-dwelling classmates, especially since the forceful Apparation deposited some of them and a few of the Hufflepuffs in the Quidditch field in the middle of the frigid November rainstorm.
It was then that some of house elves realized it wasn't such a good idea to drop the students where their curses would be triggered, so children found themselves also deposited in the Owlry, the second-to-last floor of the Astronomy tower, the carriage stables, Hogsmeade, Hagrid's hut, and even under some of the more sheltering trees on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
oOoOoOo
Minerva McGonagall was carefully searching her personal suite for any hidden stash of left-over Halloween chocolate she might have forgotten about, hoping to find anything to ease the pending headache before she left for her next Transfiguration class.
Winky popped up in front of her, startling Minerva so that she accidentally knocked over an unlit candelabra. Winky held out a mewling kitten of a Slytherin she had rescued from a wayward dungeon passage, screeched something incomprehensible about evacuation of the entire Hogwarts dungeons and that the Headmaster Sir needed to know, and then popped out.
And then popped back again when Winky realized that she was still in possession of the Slytherin, handed over the sickly-looking kitten, and then disappeared once more.
Minerva paused only a moment to grab her heavy cloak for herself and a woolen shawl for the kitten before dashing outdoors.
oOoOoOo
It took three attempts of ricocheting off the wards that surrounded Snape's different rooms before the house elves dimly realized that Professor Snape had made good on his word that no house elf would ever again penetrate his territory – not after the way someone had run off with some of his gillyweed during Harry Potter's Fourth year.
But that was okay, Dobby assured his dazed companions, since Professor Snape looked after all children (even if he pretended to dislike so many of them very much), and they would be safe. After all, he was one of the Headmaster Sir's most trusted staff.
That didn't do much to appease the house elves, but they didn't have much choice in evacuating Snape's Potions room. They redirected their attention back to the remaining scattered children. However, some of the more excitable, younger house elves began to accidentally splinch their passengers. The wailing of children who missed their body parts became a cacophony of animal screams when they emerged outside and were exposed to the wet weather. Upon realizing their errors, the older and more mature house elves reApparated the splinched children and their parts – this time to the Hospital wing.
Madame Pomfrey's area of expertise was not putting animals back together, but she didn't dare revert the children out of their cursed forms, not knowing if their splinched body parts would also revert. Luckily for everyone involved, she was a woman who remained cool and calm while operating in crises, so she doggedly pursued the puzzles strewn before herself.
oOoOoOo
By the time Madame Pomfrey had begun sorting through the children, less than two minutes had passed since the evacuation process had started. The force of the waters finally overcame Dickens's magic, and he dropped his hands in a sigh, fully resigned to what would follow.
The crushing force of rushing waters killed him before he had the chance to drown.
oOoOoOo
Daphne slapped her hands against the table and yelled at Draco and Harry as they bickered over stirring the elixir, "widdershin", since the book might have been written in the Southern Hemisphere. "Shut up, both of you!" She craned her neck and looked towards the Potions room's tall, heavy doors.
"Is something the matter, Miss Greengrass?" Snape asked as he glided to her side.
Daphne's breath hitched in her chest and she swayed. "Does anyone else hear that?" she asked them as color drained from her face.
"What are you-" Draco's question was stopped suddenly when Daphne rounded on the room and looked at the others with something akin to panic.
"It's like a boom and a rush! And there's screams, and-"
"You're right," Lavender said, "I hear something too!" The others who had gained sharper hearing as a side effect of the cursed forms' leaking began to nod in agreement, a growing unease sharply becoming prominent.
Snape studied the doors for a moment, and then sprinted forward to the front of the room. "Everyone on your tables, now!" he yelled just as he reached his heavy desk. The doors crashed open and slammed to the stone walls, pinned by the sudden, forceful flooding. Students screamed in surprise and horror as they scrambled out of the water's way, seeking refuge upon the heavy, ancient oak tables their supplies were set.
Cauldrons and elixirs and supplies and books were ruthlessly shoved off in haste to stay dry. Elbows and knees and heads were knocked together accidentally as they steadied each other and the jostled tables, many of which tilted under the water's torrent. Enterprising students copied Hermione, who immediately stabilized the table she and Gregory shared with some floating charms that would prevent it from sinking or tilting from the water's force.
After jumping upon his own desk, Snape pointed his wand and chanted. The wards he had constantly reinforced to contain vapors – allowed to neither escape, nor enter, the Potions room – were quickly readjusted to slow, and then outright stop the flood.
By the time Snape finally erected an invisible barrier that wouldn't allow water to enter anymore, the water's depth was already more than four feet. In stunned silence, everyone watched as the water filled in halls on the other side of the invisible barrier, rushing deeper and deeper until the water finally covered the door, perhaps reaching to the ceilings of the corridors.
Harry found himself reminded of one of those sea tanks he had seen at the zoo, where a person could see the sea life on the other side of the very thick glass. Which was an apt description, really, since he felt like he had a shark sitting at his elbow, although Draco was far more a rodent than a fish.
The table, Harry thought as he shifted his weight and was elbowed for it when Draco yelped and flailed to keep from sliding overboard, was far too small to share between three people. He looked with envy at his fellow classmates.
Snape glared at the doors, as if personally affronted that they dared to allow water to enter his sacred domain. "Stay here," he commanded everyone firmly, his face a mask of rage. "You will all remain seated, quiet, and behave. I must see to the safety of your personal samples and the research for the Jusenkyo curse." With that ominous note left to hang over the students' heads, he carefully plucked one of the large stirring spoons out of the water, dried it off with a charm, transfigured it into an oar, and gently paddled his way to one of the small rooms connected to the Potions room where he frequently performed experiments.
Parvati whimpered. "Do you think anyone else is safe or got out?" she asked no one in particular, and quietly at that.
oOoOoOo
It took McGonagall hours to locate even half of the scattered Slytherin and Hufflepuffs who hadn't been in classes, and that was largely due to how the House elves, once they've evacuated everyone they felt was in danger and figured that the professors could carry on, immediately retreated to Hogwarts to drain the waters or fetch and repair valuable artifacts. They couldn't even leave Dobby to tell McGonagall where which children were located in what sort of condition, as well as account for missing professors.
She made a mental note to later summon all the House elves (when they would answer, damn them!) and reprimand them severely for this oversight. Of course, their honor then would demand that they do something silly to punish themselves, possibly throwing their bodies to the Giant Squid to be eaten or something similarly ignominious.
The thirty or so children she found out in the Quidditch fields were drenched, freezing, and all looking as ill as any bunch of animals she had ever seen. Knowing that House elf-induced Apparation was extremely draining, prone to causing migraines and extreme nausea, and even left a long-lingering joint and muscle pain, McGonagall carefully herded everyone to the stables. Until she was able to completely assess and determine the full extent of whatever was going on with Hogwarts, she didn't dare allow anyone to enter the castle. At the least stables would be warm and dry, and there were fresh mounds of hay the different cursed children could enjoy sleeping on. (Although she had to wait for a willing volunteer to host and keep the Flea Circus that was Zacharius Smith; eventually, Hannah Abbot reluctantly agreed to do so.)
Once in the stables, McGonagall found another twenty children, all of whom were dry and therefore not cursed, and she directed them to fetching blankets and assisting their fellow students in drying off. Some of the second and third years were able to tell her, in between disjointed babbling and lots of tears, that apparently the dungeons had flooded.
Since panic certainly wasn't going to help the situation any, McGonagall filed the information away to be addressed at a later time, once she was able to see to the relative safety and well-being of the children. She handed little Maggie May Guthner the kitten she had carefully been carrying this entire time. "I don't know how long I shall be gone – perhaps a few hours. Don't panic in the meantime. I want everyone to remain calm."
She found Rolanda Hooch over by the Whomping Willow, flying a broomstick that was constantly pushed sideways by the howling winds, as the Quidditch teacher desperately tried to safely remove three cursed children who desperately clung to the Willow's flailing branches. Since McGonagall didn't want to cause a distraction, she hurried onward. A dozen more cursed children were found around the pumpkin patch beside Hagrid's hut, and he agreed to keep them and nine other uncursed children, who had been delivered directly in his kitchen, in the hut until further notice. McGonagall spared a moment to gratefully guzzle a pot of actual Earl Grey that Hagrid offered her, almost in tears over how she missed having caffeine.
Adrenalin fueled with the stimulant and the chill from the frigid rainstorm slightly abated, McGonagall once more braved the outside. When she was halfway to the castle, she received a Patronus from the bartender at Hog's Head, informing to whom it may concern that he was currently hosting thirty-two Hogwarts students, twenty-five of whom were cursed, since they had been spontaneously Apparated to Hogsmead's alleyways, as well as a very confused and rather ill Flitwick. McGonagall sent her own Patronus in reply, thanking him for his assistance and that Flitwick should join her as soon as he had seen to the safety and well-being of whatever students were present.
It concerned McGonagall that she wasn't finding any of the Fifth year Slytherins or Gryffindors who would have been in Potions class when the evacuation took place. She did find some of the Sixth year Ravenclaw and Slytherin students at the edge of the Forbidden Forest by Hagrid's hut, who reported being forcefully yanked out of their Defense class. Those lucky enough to avoid being drenched had thoughtfully gathered up and transfigured some of the leaves into a waterproof shelter, although it barely afforded any cover for poor Suzette Jordan. McGonagall gave both Houses twenty points apiece for their cleverness, enlarged and reinforced the waterproof shelter against the rainstorm, and cast several well-placed warming charms to aid in drying off and warding away the cold.
Since the Defense class had been evacuated, she felt it safe to assume that everyone on the first floor had also been removed from Hogwarts. Since her personal quarters and the Transfiguration class had been on the second floor, perhaps everyone on those levels and upward were safe and present.
Unfortunately, that left those children still unaccounted.
Swearing against the wind didn't do anything to change the situation, but it made McGonagall feel a little measure of calm as she stormed the closed gates.