Chapter 14: An 'Antidote'
After a flurry of revision, exam week started. Gryffindor had their Charms end of term exam on Tuesday afternoon. Dudley liked Charms. He was good at them, but more than that, Professor Flitwick was a good teacher. Where McGonagall had been cold towards him over Harry, and the less said about Dumbledore teaching the better, Flickwick had never treated Dudley differently from any other student. Better perhaps. He'd spotted that Dudley had talent in this area. Dudley missed Professor Flitwick. He hadn't liked Hermione's reasoning yesterday evening that Flitwick was going potty either. It didn't make sense. From what Dudley knew, Flitwick was too young to get dementia. But even he had to admit, Flickwick seemed a bit more than just ill and slow to recover.
He should have been concentrating on his exam, but he wasn't. His mind kept wandering. What if Flitwick wasn't sick? What if there was something messing with him? Screwing up someone in the head was the sort of thing Dudley would do. He found himself wondering how you could mess with someone's head, but more than that, how do you mess with Flitwick's head - he's no fool. He'd recognise if he'd been hit with a spell. But that left a potion, and you can't repeatedly dose someone like Flitwick with a potion - he'd notice.
Dudley remembered that Snape had been particularly Snape-like in class about a fortnight ago. Harry had said that it was because potions had gone walkabout. Snape had assumed it was one of his house. Snape hadn't ever found out who did it. Harry hadn't said what the potions were (because neither had Snape), but it wasn't stretch to think it could have been a Befuddlement draught or some such. They'd studied those last year.
Dumbledore coughed, bringing Dudley out of his reverie. Dumbledore was staring right at Dudley. Shit, how long have I been just sitting here? Dudley looked back to his paper quickly but he couldn't focus. Ten minutes later he was doing it again. He looked around the room, everyone was furiously scribbling away. Hermione was entertaining to watch. She had quills with different coloured ink, and when she concentrated she absentmindedly chewed her hair. Ron was looking a bit poleaxed by one of the questions. Dudley shook himself and got on with his paper again. He didn't do an excellent job, but he got to the end of it, perhaps a bit too early to have got an amazing mark, but Dudley knew he knew Charms, he wouldn't have failed.
Dumbledore was watching him again. Clearly Dumbledore thought he should check his paper again given he had time left. Dudley didn't. Admittedly, deliberately. He'd heard the phrase cut off your nose to spite your face, but Dumbledore wasn't the person to make Dudley feel positive about his studies. Dumbledore went back to marking student papers from the morning's exam. Dudley found himself watching the Headmaster. It was the same every paper. He'd lick his finger and take one parchment off the stack, mark it, and put it face down on the other side of him. Occasionally his quill would run out. Why Dumbledore didn't have a self-inking one, Dudley didn't know. Dumbledore would carefully ink his quill. Dudley ended up guessing how far through a paper he'd get before having to re-ink his quill (the boredom of taking exams when you finish early. It was better than counting bricks in the wall). He'd know when it was time because right before re-inking his quill, Dumbledore would lick his quill to get a bit more ink out of it, then have to re-ink it a couple of words later.
People were weird. Dudley looked around the rest of the room for habits. It was a thing he'd always done. It started early in primary school. He'd look around the class to spot the bookworms, the disengaged, the ones who hadn't a clue. It helped him work out the pecking order. He had also done it to throw stuff at Harry and get him into trouble with the teacher when she wasn't watching. He felt bad about that now, when he thought about it. Looking around was just a habit, and he was good at it. Seamus had eaten the end off his quill at some point. He had smudges all over him. Perhaps the charms paper had been harder than Dudley thought. Too late now, but he didn't want to disappoint Professor Flitwick.
Flitwick sucked his quill too, thought Dudley absently. He nibbled it when he thought. Watching Flitwick was an entertainment in itself... Dudley's brain froze. Can you drug a quill? Can you drug ink which seeps into a quill? Was Flitwick poisoning himself? Surely not, that was ridiculous!
Dumbledore was staring pointedly at him again. Dudley looked back at his paper and checked it to avoid Dumbledore's gaze.
"Time, everyone. Quills down!" said Dumbledore. "Remain in silence until I've collected the papers." There was the usual eyeballing and shuffling of students wanting to compare answers or simply escape while Dumbledore collected the papers. "Thank you, everyone, you may go. A word, please, Mr Dursley."
Dudley grimaced. Perhaps he'd pushed his attitude a bit far. After the room had emptied Dumbledore stared at him for an uncomfortably long time before speaking. "Last year's Christmas exams didn't go well for you. I had hoped you'd make more of an effort with this year's. This was only your second exam. I expect you to pay more attention and concentrate more in the others. Hmm?"
"Yes, sir," replied Dudley, relieved that he was only getting a warning.
"What did Dumbledore want you for?" asked Ron later that evening in the library.
"He noticed I wasn't paying that much attention to the test. He suggested I pay more attention. All good," replied Dudley.
Ron and Dudley had got on a bit better recently. The twins had told Dudley they'd said some nice things about Dudley to Ron after Umbridge's wand incident. Not details, because they weren't admitting to anyone but Harry what the three of them had done, but Ron was slowly coming round to the idea that Dudley was different now.
Hermione tutted. Fred had threatened to silence Hermione with a spell if she asked once more how anyone's exams had been. She was now sulking.
"I was thinking," started Dudley. George grinned. "Sod off. I was thinking," continued Dudley, "What if Flitwick has been poisoned?"
Harry looked up.
"You'd know about that," said Fred, quietly. Dudley looked embarrassed.
"I... I just think it's not him going nutty," Dudley stammered, not sure what to say about poisoning Harry.
"You mean drugged?" asked Hermione, speaking up to keep the peace.
"Yes, drugged."
"But who'd drug Flitwick?" asked Harry, "He's nice!"
"It could be a prank," said Fred, "But it's in pretty poor taste."
"Harry," asked Dudley, "Do you remember reading that book in class at primary school, The Twits?"
"Oooooh, I read that one," said Hermione, she paused, thinking of the book, "Oh, God, that's nasty!" she said, staring in horror at Dudley.
"I know, but this is like that. The pennies on the chair, making him think he's shorter, it's like Flitwick, making him think he's mad."
"I have no idea what in Merlin's name you're on about," said Fred.
"The Twits is a book by muggle author Roald Dahl. A couple don't get on and they do things to each other to make them think they're going nuts," said Harry. "Dudley's suggesting someone's slowly drugging Flitwick to make him think he's going nuts."
"I liked that book," said Dudley, casually.
"Tell that to Jones. He'll have a field day," said Harry, with a grin.
"Back to Flitwick. Snape had some potions taken recently. Do we know what they were?" said Dudley.
"Nope," said Harry, "Just that if he ever finds out who did take them, sitting will be a distant memory."
"There are potions to make you nuts, though, aren't there?" asked Dudley.
"Yep," said George, "We've experimented with a number of them, we just don't nick Snape's supplies to do it, well not after the Gillyweed incident anyway. Merlin, that was a lot of cauldrons he had us scrubbing. Befuddlement draught is a good one, you can put it into all sorts. We're thinking of putting it into sweets next."
"His symptoms match too, except that they keep on happening," said Fred.
"I was thinking that his inkwell had been poisoned," said Dudley.
"Eh?" said Ron.
"He chews his quills constantly," replied Dudley, "If you drug the ink, then it goes up the quill and ta-da, constant source of draught in the quill."
"We need to add quills to our list, Gred," said George.
"Absolutely, Forge," replied Fred.
"It's not funny!" snapped Dudley, angrily.
"Back off, back off, we heard you," said Fred, placatingly.
"He's nice," muttered Dudley.
"He is, so, what do you want to do about it?" asked Fred, calmly.
"I want to check the ink well," replied Dudley.
"Well, first, is Dumbledore acting weirdly? He used the same inkwell today, and for the whole of the last fortnight, hasn't he? Dumbledore's fine, isn't he?" pointed out Harry.
"Dumbledore doesn't write in our charms class, and probably takes marking up to his office, if he actually does it, but I think Flitwick still marks. His scrawl is still on some of my essays," said George, looking round at everyone. He got nods back.
"But is Flitwick any better now he's not teaching?" persisted Hermione.
"His quill will still have something in it, it seeps into the feathers. And he still does some marking in his classroom. You'd only need a couple of drops to make someone a bit mental, not totally befuddled, and that's what we've been seeing," said Fred, "I think this idea has legs."
"We can just sneak into the Charms room and get a sample of the ink, can't we?" asked Dudley, looking at Fred and George.
"We?" asked Fred.
"Please?" asked Dudley.
Harry had never heard Dudley say please in a simple request before. He eyeballed Fred and George.
"Sure," said George, "It's not that hard, it's just a classroom. It's not exactly off limits, but it's probably locked. Before curfew we'll go take a look, we just have to check there's no-one about, one Alohamora, and then you can go get a sample. We'll get you a vial. You go in the room, and we'll keep lookout and let you in."
"Thank you," said Dudley.
"Alohamora!" said Fred, pointing his wand at the the door to the Charms classroom. "Got the vial?"
"Yep," whispered Dudley, "I'll only be a moment." He slipped inside.
George was what could best be described as loitering with intent at the end of the corridor, and Fred was idly leaning against the wall next to the door of the classroom. George suddenly sprinted down the corridor towards Fred, "Abort, abort! Snape! Dumbledore!" he hissed, running past Fred and down the other end of the corridor and round the next corner.
Fred stuck his head into the classroom, "Run or hide!" he whispered, and ran down the corridor after George, closing the door quietly as he did so.
Dudley had just stoppered the vial. He ran to the door, listened for sounds, and hearing approaching footsteps and voices ran back to the teacher's desk. He hid under it. There was only one open side to the desk and that was where the chair went. He would only be seen if someone actually sat at the desk.
He heard the door open, "I thought I'd locked that," said Dumbledore absentmindedly, as they walked in.
"But what do we do if Filius isn't well enough to teach after the holidays?" Snape was asking, "You've already had to send Hagrid away, although, I think that's a blessing, he is a terrible teacher. Hippogriffs, honestly, totally insane."
"I had to give him a chance, Severus, you know his history," replied Dumbledore, "I will have to inform the governors over the holidays. I will speak to Filius about it. He's talking to Healer Jones about it. After Poppy couldn't find anything wrong with him, he's convinced he's losing the plot. I'm not though. I hope that Jones can persuade him of this."
"You're getting Jones in more than usual in recent years," commented Severus.
"Such is..." Albus never got out 'life'. Dudley had got cramp in his left foot. Straightening it knocked a plant by Filius' desk. It wasn't much noise, but it was enough.
Dumbledore and Severus were only halfway across the classroom towards the front, but they'd both heard the noise.
"Show yourself!" growled Snape, towards the desk. Dudley froze, not making a sound.
"Accio wand!" snapped Snape. He caught the wand that came flying towards him from under the desk.
"Get out here, now!"
Dudley crawled out from under the desk. This wasn't good. This was bad.
"Mr Dursley," said Dumbledore sadly, "What are you doing here?"
"I..." Dudley had absolutely no idea how to answer that question at such short notice. His brain and mouth both froze.
Dumbledore got the wrong idea. "I see you've noticed my stack of marking on the desk," he said, "And tomorrow's practical paper. I told you to study for your remaining exams, not cheat. I seem to remember we had a similar conversation this time last year, Mr Dursley."
Dudley looked in horror at the teacher's desk, for the first time noticing its contents. Yep, there were today's exam papers, and right next to them, tomorrow's practical paper.
"That wasn't... I didn't... It's not what you think!" said Dudley, hurriedly.
"So it's not that you let yourself into a locked classroom that just happened to contain the contents of your tomorrow's exam?" asked Snape cuttingly.
"I wanted ink!" managed Dudley, brandishing the vial in his now very sweaty palm.
Dumbledore even didn't acknowledge that sentence, he simply flicked his wand to stick Dudley's other hand to the nearest desk and picked up a ruler.
"I don't see that there's any more to say," said Dumbledore moving towards Dudley.
"It's drugged ink!" shouted Dudley panicked, his brain finally kicking into gear. That made Dumbledore pause, in surprise if nothing else.
"What are you drivelling on about?" demanded Snape.
"We think Professor Flitwick's ink and quill are drugged," insisted Dudley. That made both professors look at him very sharply.
"We?" clarified Snape, "And why do we think that?"
"I," amended Dudley, regretting his choice of word and not wishing to drop the twins in it this time. "I think it's drugged. It's what I was thinking today when, you know," he said, looking at Dumbledore. "Professor Flitwick chews his quills, well, it makes sense."
Snape took the vial out of Dudley's hand and looked at it. It looked like ink. He understood what Dudley was badly trying to explain.
"What do you think is in here?" he asked.
"Befuddlement draught," replied Dudley.
"And why might you think that?" demanded Snape with tones of 'So it was you who took the potion, you thieving little brat'.
"Shit, look, that wasn't me, it's just the symptoms fit. For God's sake, please give me some veritaserum and I'll tell you the same thing. I didn't raid your potions store. We... I... just think that's what it is." Dudley by this point was talking very urgently tinged with mild terror. He still had bad premonitions about his future and Dumbledore's ruler.
Snape fixed him with a very hard look, but he had to admit, Dudley wasn't likely to poison anyone after last time, surely he knew he'd be caught. He also sounded genuine, an odd thing to hear as last year he sounded calm, collected, deliberately innocent. Now he sounded panicky and frightened.
"How were you going to anaylse this?" he asked.
"Um..." said Dudley.
"We were going to analyse it, were we?" he asked, accenting the We.
Silence.
Snape waved his wand at the vial and cast a diagnostic spell Dudley didn't know. Dumbledore and Snape read the results of the ingredients. There certainly wasn't just ink in the vial. Snape's face grew darker. Dumbledore turned to look at Dudley. Dudley took one look at his face, and hand still stuck to the desk or not, moved back.
"You are quite aware, Mr Dursley, I can, if I wish, summon Mr Kingsley again with a dose of Veritaserum?"
Dudley nodded, unable to form words.
"You didn't dose this ink with Befuddlement draught?"
"No, sir," he squeaked, absolutely terrified of Dumbledore's expression.
"You don't know who did?" asked Snape?
Dudley shook his head, "No, sir," only slightly calmer answering Snape.
Both teachers could read students well, and in contrast to Dudley's denials last year, these were honest words, accented with fear of not being believed.
Dumbledore unstuck Dudley's hand from the desk. He glanced at the teacher's desk and noted that none of the papers on there seemed disturbed.
"Thank you, Mr Dursley," said Dumbledore, "Thirty points to Gryffindor. It would have been fifty, but for the breaking and entering."
"You hid under the desk?!" asked Fred, sounding scandalised.
"You got thirty points after breaking into a classroom?!" screeched Hermione, entering a pitch of hearing reserved for dogs and dolphins.
"Sod that! You were in a room with exam answers on the desk and you got away with your backside intact?!" demanded Ron, "With Dumbledore and bloody Snape?!"
"Yes, yes and yes," replied Dudley, rather smugly.
"I'm glad Flitwick will be OK," said Harry, "I wonder who it was?"
"Me too," said Dudley, "Thanks for being lookout," he said to the twins.
"Apart from having to teach you to not hide in stupid places, you've got promise," said Fred.
The end of term was a happy one, especially in Ravenclaw. They had their Head of House back. Flitwick was euphoric to find out he wasn't going barmy, but dismayed to think a student disliked him so much that they'd do that to him.
Albus stood up at breakfast the last Saturday of term, the first day after exams.
"I'd like to welcome Professor Flitwick back to full time duties. He has fully recovered. I would like to make it known that Professor Flitwick was not ill. He had been dosed with a Befuddlement draught. We assume this was some form of practical joke. Needless to say, it wasn't funny. Before anyone points fingers in the usual direction, and any retaliation is planned," at this point he looked sternly at Ravenclaw, "I have thoroughly investigated, and while I don't know the identity of the perpetrator, I do know who it wasn't." He glanced over at the twins who looked relieved. "When I find out the culprit they will be in a whole world of trouble."
"On a lighter note," he continued and the student body relaxed, "It is the last week of term. Your professors will likely have a few fun things planned, and as it worked so well last year, there will be a duelling competition later in the week, hosted by the rejuvenated Professor Flitwick.
The student body erupted in applause. The only person not clapping was Professor Umbridge.
Harry had chosen to go home this Christmas. Dudley had pleaded with him to come home, "Mum is going to expect me home, and want me home, and you know Dad's going to be weird again. Come on, if it's horrible you can come back here, I'm sure Snape will let you if you ask."
Harry agreed.
The last week came and went. Harry and Draco had both lost their first rounds of dueling again spectacularly badly. The twins had, entertainingly for everyone, won enough matches that they had to duel each other. They demonstrated they really did know what each other was thinking. Spell and counter perfect. They'd eventually given up on the round and played Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who'd go on. Fred won and lost to Justin Fletcher Finchley in the next round. Marcus won the tournament this time round, and Harry was pleased that there was genuine applause for his win.