AN: Quidditch Time!
Slenderman contemplated the small glass of alcohol in his hand.
It was potent, clear, tasteless... and certainly not vodka.
He had subtly raided Eyeless Jack's chemical storeroom for a bottle of 198 Proof Ethyl-Alcohol. Quite literally, laboratory-grade ethanol at concentrations meant to embalm insects in jars or dissolve stubborn stains. It's hardly safe to be consumed by humans, but he didn't particularly care.
He poured it down his hidden mouth and shivered at the unpleasant, burning sensation down his 'throat' and how it smoldered slightly in his 'stomach'.
It wouldn't do much good, anyways. He didn't have the organs in question per se, nor a liver. He couldn't actually get 'drunk' in any sense of the word, but the unpleasantness and discomfort was a worthwhile distraction at the moment.
He was curious about the spell Quirrell used against him. He figured it was meant to do something, but he couldn't think of what.
He had to go deep into the books Harry would've been expected to handle years from now. It was there in black and white; The Unforgivables. Imperio. Crucio. Avada Kadavra.
It was a distressing thought how much power these people could have. With a single beam of light hitting them, the best fighters and operatives of the UnderRealm and Council would be rendered mindless puppets, twitching cataonic wrecks, or very simply dead.
He rubbed his nonexistent sinuses in agitation.
How he 'survived' the Killing Curse, he didn't care to put past his... unnatural physiology. Not exactly a difficult question. He was about as anatomically similar to a human as a tomato to a pellet of refined Uranium.
However, he had no clue how his wards would be affected. The human ones, such as Jeffrey, Toby, Tim, or Harry would likely suffer the same fate as most others; instantaneous death. However those like BEN, Sally, EJ, LJ, Nikolaus, or Adrian... well, he wasn't interested to find out.
They still had to be told. A dreadful pill to swallow.
He sighed heavily.
If by any fluke that spell had worked on him... well... the Council would likely take matters into their own hands. He had protocols set in place regarding his wards and dealings, but given the Council's attitudes towards humans... it would be unlikely any human associate of his wouldn't be... culled. Those that weren't would likely face being tied to a specific plot of land, alone and out of their way.
Harry, left locked in the machinations of the decaying society. If not killed outright.
Jeffrey, Toby, Tim, Brian, Natalie, and many more Proxies. All dead.
Nikolaus, likely locked in some forgotten tomb.
Adrian, probably back on that forsaken farm.
BEN, chained to the bottom of a lake.
Sally...
Sally.
"Sally?" He asked, turning to the door as her telltale 'signature' came to the peripheral of his awareness.
The ghostly girl walked into the room, innocent green eyes staring up at him through the rivulets of blood.
"Uh..." She scuffed her feet on the rug. "I was wondering if you'd want to help me pour the teapot for a late-night tea party. I couldn't go to sleep."
"Tea keeps you up late," He reminded her mechanically.
"Well, not all of it," She said. "I remember EJ talking about it and that "Camel Meal" stuff you like doesn't have caffeine."
He chuckled despite himself. "I see... in that case, m'lady, I'd happily accept your invitation." He slightly bowed in her direction.
"Yay!" She cheered, rushing back to her room.
Slender sighed, setting down the empty glass and standing from his chair. He teleported downstairs and set a kettle on the stovetop to boil.
There was much to be apprehensive about in the future, but for now... he had a tea party to enjoy.
And tomorrow, he had one of his ward's school games to go to and who would miss that?
"Oh, look! He's so cute," Nick gushed, holding out his finger.
Adrian scowled and leaned away, "Get that thing away from us."
Nick huddled in on the little creature in mock-shock, "Gasp! ("Did you really just say 'gasp'?") How could you be so callous! Look at him; his patterning is beautiful!"
He held up the little dungeon-dwelling beetle to the torchlight to admire it.
Harry sighed, "As long as its not lethal-"
"Very!" Nick enthused.
The mortal wizard-boy quickly scuttled backwards, before he realized the reanimated corpse was laughing.
"S-sorry!" He wheezed, getting his laughter under control. "It is lethal... to be fair, but only if you eat it. Like, wings, legs, and all."
Harry lobbed a quill at him, a little extra magic embedding the tip into the stonework behind him.
And skimming Nick's outstretched, now-vacant finger.
"Bull's-Eye."
"Phillip! Nooo!"
The trio had elected to explore around the castle's lower levels. They'd passed by the Slytherin common room without drawing attention from the foul-looking Prefects sneering around the place. Today, they had found an empty dungeon room.
Proper dungeon room. As in manacles-to-the-walls and everything.
It had immediately become Nick's favorite room as the multitude of bugs, beetles, and creepy-crawlies had him gushing over a new specimen every time he turned over a skull in the corner.
Until, inevitably, Harry or Adrian would squish it.
"Keep it down," Adrian drawled, scratching out something on his essay. "Snape is probably skulking around this place."
"Don't care," Nick grumped, arms crossed. "You guys killed Phillip the Seventh."
Adrian's eyebrows quirked with mental math, "You missed one of them, I think. We killed eight."
"No, one of those was Charlotte." Nick corrected.
"Regardless," Harry said. "I'm not sure if we're allowed to be here, so not attracting Snape's attention is for the best, I think."
"He probably wouldn't bother us. Especially if he can't catch us." The amnesiac pointed out.
"You noticed his limping, too?"
"Hard not to. He was acting like the thing was bitten clean off." Nick hunched over, one eye squinted. "Yaargh! And here be where me leg was bitten clean off by Mrs. Norris. Argh..."
"Lovely impression." Adrian complemented, snickering.
"Well, even if he can't catch us, I'd bet he'd dock points or whatever," Harry said. "Or maybe issue detention? I dunno how magical detentions work."
Nick nodded, "Fred and George probably know. Either way, Snape would probably jump at the chance to take out Harry before that broom-game tomorrow."
Harry groaned. "Uuugh, I almost forgot."
"Sorry."
"I was so close to forgetting."
"I said I was sorry," Nick shrugged.
"This close to finally forgetting the stupid thing."
"Wood's been that annoying?" Adrian guessed.
Harry sighed, "It's bad enough the game's confusing, but Wood is obsessed with ruining sleep schedules to 'practice' flying around randomly on brooms that changes way too often to work effectively."
"In football, it works," Nick said.
"Yes, but this isn't American football. With that, there's just one ball, two teams trying to get the ball and moving around on a relatively-two-dimensional playing field.
"Here, there are two teams, one ball for scoring, and a three-dimensional maneuverability for both teams. The teams scatter so frequently, the 'scoring' part of the game depends entirely on passing and interception. Then, you need to worry about two flying cannonballs trying to cave your heads in all the time.
"And lastly, no matter what anyone scores, the team that gets this little gold ball (which is what I'm supposed to do) gets the team 150 points. It's such an unfair buff to a game. BEN would be tearing his eyes out and screaming at the 'devs' to 'nerf' it."
"Well, that is seriously OP," Nick agreed.
Adrian's mouth quirked in thought, "So, essentially, the chasers barely matter in these games at all. They're just there to keep up the action. It's all up to the Seeker and the 150 point advantage."
"Except in professional games where sometimes a team wins even if they don't get the snitch." Harry recited, recalling a similar discussion with an overeager Wood yammering on about some 'historic' game between one team or another.
The only 'Living' member of the trio groaned with his head in his hands, "This is seriously shaping up to be a huge headache."
"Regrets... I regret so much right now." Harry grumbled the next morning, his breakfast ruined by an owl crapping on it.
"I think I see a sausage the splatter miss-" Nick was cut off as a barn owl swooped by and plucked said sausage clean off his plate before soaring out one of the windows.
...
"Sooo much regret," Harry slumped in his seat. He was wearing his full attire for the game, knee pads and all. Wood was adamant about getting a 'solid breakfast', but hadn't considered the fact that the postage system was out to get his seeker.
"Here, I have some apple slices," Adrian offered, holding out a couple.
Harry munched on them morosely. The crunchy fruit paled in comparison as he thought of the juicy sausage, crispy bacon, and fluffy omelet now covered in white bird crap before him.
"When we get back to the Mansion, I will gorge myself on bacon," Harry vowed.
"And may the Rake eat the owl that inevitably tries to ruin it," Adrian proposed, lifting a glass of milk.
"Here, here." They cheered, clinking.
"Hoo?"
They turned to see a familiar white, snowy owl landing on the bench beside Harry.
"Hedwig, I love you dearly," Harry said heartfelt, "But if you crap on my breakfast when we're back at the Mansion, I will be tempted to let EJ stuff you for Thanksgiving."
Hedwig hooted again, before hopping close to Harry and affectionately nipping at his fingers. Her entire expression saying, 'Look at me. Look how cute I am. You wouldn't dare let that nasty cook roast me like those flightless, fat gobbling-birds, would you?'
"Fiiine," Harry grumbled.
"Hey, guys!" The trio turned to see BEN bounding up to sit beside them.
"Hey Harry, Ay, Nick!" He greeted, then turned to Hedwig with a narrow squint, "Cuckoo."
She barked angrily at him, but kept nuzzling Harry's hand to curry favor.
BEN huffed, but turned to everyone else. "Excited for this game or whatever?"
"Yeah, thrilled," Harry groaned, slouching. "Can you talk about something else for once? I've gotten several 'good lucks' and that was even before I left the Gryffindor common room this morning."
"Okay, uh, so we're getting all ready for Thanksgiving this year," BEN began.
"Ooooh," Harry moaned. "I'm not going to be able to goooo... and I'm hungryyyy..."
Thanksgiving at Slender's mansion was always a good time among the wards. Eyeless Jack would take over as the 'head chef' for the day and delegate tasks to everyone for prep work or cleanup in addition to making the turkey, itself. Everyone had their own recipes they brought to the table.
Laughing Jack would provide mashed potatoes and mashed sweet potatoes... though often using an enormous mallet to do the 'mashing' part. Toby would make a homemade cranberry sauce using actual cranberries from a recipe his mom taught him. Tim and Brian would skimp out typically and just make green bean casserole or pasta salad; easy, but still tasty. And most surprisingly, Jeff could make an amazing pumpkin pie.
Harry's mouth was salivating at the thought.
Which just compounded his current, breakfast-less misery.
"Oh, yeah, sorry." BEN shuffled, staring at Harry's desecrated plate and casting a baleful glare at the snowy owl. She hooted as if to demand 'You think I'd do something so cruel and undignified?'.
"Maybe it's best we don't bring up Quidditch, brooms, Oliver wood, or food," Nick suggested.
"Right..." BEN murmured, apologetically. "So... did you hear about the new game set to come out this Christmas?"
The distraction was welcomed and the three were invested in hearing about a new video game with stealth, open-world exploration, and expansions deeper into the lore of the fandom universe. Harry was actually stoked to see if a Guy's Night would sprout up around it during his vacations back at the Mansion.
"Hiya, Harry!"
The mood hit a dead South when they realized Ron Weasley plopped himself beside them. "Good luck in the game today, mate! Go, go, Gryffindor!"
The others looked apprehensively at Harry as the Seeker's eyelid twitched briefly, "Thank you... Weasley... for reminding me... again..."
"Ahh, mate, it's just nerves. Have some kipper, yeah?" He said cluelessly, pulling over a tray of heavy, greasy, salty, fried fish.
"... I'll pass... I'm, uh, kipper-intolerant," Harry said, appetite draining at the sight (and smell).
Weasley shrugged, setting the plate away but first taking three for his own plate. "Anyways, my brothers say *munch* that Slytherin's been at it for years *munch-munch*, Gryffindors haven't gotten a chance since my brother Charlie graduated-"
"Oh, I just remembered, Mr. Lindermann wanted me to meet up with him early," BEN announced, fleeing the table.
Harry, Adrian, and Nick looked after him, jealously thinking the same thing, 'Traitor'.
"Anyways, so I heard you got a Nimbus 2000, mate! That's amazing! We'll cream those bloody snakes this year." Ron gushed, grinning.
Harry sighed, "Yeah, I... uh..."
"Hey, you think I could take a go at it?" Ron interrupted. "My broom's a Cleansweep. Nothing special, and it was Bill's back when he went to Hogwarts, so it's got some missing bristles, y'see. I just figured I could take a fly-around sometime, yeah? Maybe we could rent some time on the grounds; toss a Quaffle. I'm a Keeper, myself, so I can show you a couple moves."
"I'll show you a couple moves," Harry murmured venomously, spearing a strawberry.
"Wassat, Harry?" Ron asked, smiling and biting into a sausage.
"I said I need the loo," Harry amended quickly, getting up. "Afterwards, I think I'd better get going to Wood. He's expecting us early."
"Ah, the pep talk," Ron said, winking knowingly. "Good luck. Fred and George tell me it's a tradition that the Team Head make their speech longer each year."
"Joy." Harry deadpanned, starting to walk away with the other two getting up to follow suit.
"Oi, Harry, just a mo'. What sort of sauce is this?" Ron called out.
The trio turned to see he held half a sausage in his hand...
...and Harry's discarded breakfast plate beside the Weasley's own empty one.
...
"Mayonnaise... it's an American thing." Harry lied.
The trio quickly left. Harry conflicted, Nick gagging, and Adrian vindictively grinning. Hedwig took wing with an almost-chuckling hoot.
Ron watched them go... shrugged, and dipped the other half of his sausage.
"Alright everyone! Hope everyone got a hearty breakfast in and a good night's sleep," Wood announced perkily, surveying the Gryffindor team. "Now, I want to point out, that this is Harry's first game!"
"We know that, Wood," George called out.
"Yes, but he's our ace in the hole. I can feel it this year." Wood said, grinning. "It's all down to you, Harry, so make us proud."
"No pressure or anything," Fred commented lowly.
Wood sent him a side-glare, before continuing, "Now remember everyone, we're playing Slytherin today, so expect cheap shots and dirty tricks. If Flint is still half the arse he typically is, then we should expect nothing to be off the table for him to pull."
"Why is he still captain if he's as bad as you say?" Harry asked.
"Flint's got connections in Slytherin House. Rumor has it, his father's arranged a rather lucrative deal between several other upper-years' families," Angelina explained, with a frustrated huff. "Misogynistic pig probably wouldn't get the time of day from anyone with a moral backbone."
"Thank you, Angelina," Wood said, clearing his throat and grinning eagerly, "Now... let's get to the Pep Talk, shall we?"
Harry's heart dropped as the Captain pulled out a notecard... which magicked itself into a fold-out of notecards reaching the floor.
"One thousand years ago, Merlin, himself, was born-"
"Harry?"
"Harry?"
"Dear Merlin, I think Wood's put him out of his misery this time."
"A truly killer speech."
"Do you think his family will take it well?"
"If no one calls it; dibs on his broom."
Harry blinked as existence came back into focus around him. He'd completely zoned out not even half-way through Wood's speech. He turned to glare at the twins beside him, each poking his shoulder every now and then.
"Hallelujah, Fred! He's alive!"
"It's a miracle!" The two embraced each other, mock weeping beside Harry.
"Yeah, yeah, is the game over?" Harry asked.
"Not even close, mate." Fred grinned wickedly.
"You didn't think we'd let you miss out, did you?" George asked, hand to his heart.
The Seeker plodded his feet forward towards the starter gates and assumed formation beside Wood. The doors in front of them opened and they took their positions.
"You ready, Harry?" Oliver beamed.
Harry didn't answer as the whistle prompted them to file out onto the crowded Hogwarts Quidditch pitch.
Slenderman watched from a guest booth besides the Gryffindor students as the players were released onto the pitch. It was a wide, spacious arena with mostly grass turf between two sandpits on either end. Jutting out of these sand pits were three hoops of varied heights and diameters on outrageously long sticks. Surrounding it was the audience seating encircling the entire pitch, divided (of course) by house colors with a single booth to the side he could see held professors.
Beside him sat Jeff, Laughing Jack, and Toby eagerly at the side of the rails. Smile barked occasionally and wagged its tail right beside them. BEN and Sally were happy enough to hang back beside him and away from the steep drop-off by the ledge.
The players had vivid red robes or distinct green robes that let them easily be picked out, even zipping all over the pitch like fruit flies. He noticed Harry, the smallest player among them, gliding in formation and felt just a touch proud.
Just a touch, seeing as most of his mind was focused on the fact that nothing separated the players from very solid ground besides 30 to 60 feet of air.
'What a terrifying game,' he thought to himself.
A loud announcer enthusiastically welcomed the Gryffindor team and slyly made jabs at the Slytherins. Slender wryly guessed which house he was from.
The teams finished their fly-by of the arena and settled in a formation facing off on either side of a line dividing the two halves of the pitch. A gray-haired woman he recalled as Madame Hooch walked onto the pitch and opened an oak chest in the center of the two teams.
Two (what-he-could-only-describe-as) sentient cannonballs launched themselves out of the chest and zipped ominously around the edges of the arena. A glint of gold followed suit quickly being lost from sight (not that he had that). The announcer helpfully labeled them as Bludgers and the Snitch.
Madame Hooch held up a large, red ball with some divots and shouted something inaudible to the audience's roar.
Then, she launched it into the air-
-and the game began.
It was an aggressive mosh-pit of red and green like a Christmastime decoration nightmare as the teams swarmed the "Quaffle" ball. Eventually, the Gryffindor team came out on top and a female player began zigging and zagging across the pitch towards the three goal posts.
She lobbed it through one of the rings before the 'goalie' could intercept. The points tallied on a large, mechanical ticker beside the teacher's booth.
The Gryffindor team continued to pass the ball about, outmaneuvering their Slytherin counterparts.
At one point, the Slytherin team intercepted the Quaffle and one managed to lob it at the Gryffindor hoops before their 'goalie' (the Wood boy who'd been bothering Harry as of late) intercepted with a well-aimed bat towards one of the Gryffindor players.
He turned his attention back to Harry, alarmed to see him brush with one of the cannonballs and fly off before a Slytherin player with a small truncheon bat could whack the ball right back at him.
'This game is alarmingly violent,' He mused, concerned as a Slytherin was whacked upside the head by a Bludger from one of the impish redheaded twins.
Jeff, Toby, and Jack all roared with excitement, drinking in the game with an adrenaline-junky's rush. BEN was muttering under his breath the game's rules and tactics, analytical eyes not leaving out details. Sally was covering her face nervously, only peeking through her fingers as the players defied gravity in graceful swoops and swerves at altitudes and speeds that made even himself dizzy.
He saw Harry dive after an near-invisible glint before being knocked off the path by the Slytherin's 'Seeker', but outside that instance Harry mostly hovered above the pitch, scouring it and avoiding the Bludgers and other players.
After the Wood boy blocked another attempt by Slytherin, one of the Slytherin team grabbed a bat out of the hands of another and forcefully whacked a Bludger directly into the poor boy. He was socked directly in the gut through the largest hoop and fell into the sandpit below, only suspended on his broom until the last 10 feet where he landed unmoving.
The audience groaned in sympathy or disappointment, outside of the Green areas of the pitch, which cheered wildly. The medical-witch, Madame Pomfrey carted Wood off to the sidelines as Gryffindor was given a rather paltry 'Penalty Shot' before resuming with no substitute player at the hoops. He heard boys beside him shouting 'Red Card'.
Without their 'goalie', the Gryffindor team was sadly at a loss as Slytherin began using more and more underhanded tactics to drive players into walls, charge and feint, or outright try to whack them out of the air.
At no point was a foul called, so Slender grimly had to assume this was 'fair play'... by the loosest definitions.
"I'm already disliking this game," He muttered to himself.
His eyes were drawn to Harry as gasps and murmurs started up among the crowd. Harry was high above the pitch, but his broom was bucking wildly under him. The broom seemed to steadily rise higher and higher until it was at a height that would certainly be fatal.
All eyes were on him, though no players ceased their game nor did anyone try to help.
As Slender's gaze travelled through the crowd, he picked out someone in the back of the crowd beside the blue 'Ravenclaw' stands. A dark figure in a cloak that looked wildly out of place.
Silently, he stood up and slunk away into the stands. Smile Dog perked up from its spot on the edge and trotted after.
Beside where he vacated, the Gryffindor first years were all murmuring in panicked tones at Harry Potter being in danger. One boy, in particular, seemed to be scouring his binoculars through the stands instead.
"Bloody Hell! Snape's jinxing the broom!" Ron exclaimed, lowering the binoculars wide-eyed. He rushed off, Dean and Seamus behind him.
Slender appeared on the other end of the stadium in a quiet rush of ethereal black smoke, Smile appearing beside him. The figure was hovering beside the beams behind the student population, too distracted by Harry's predicament to notice the adult.
The figure seemed to sense he was there, and barely turned to glance at him. Slender was pleased to note that the Ex-Professor Quirrell blanched under the hood of his cloak. The man was nervously dividing his attention between Slender and his ward's faulty broom.
It seemed to work at least partially, as the broom's bucking started slowing. Quirrell glared firmly back, the broom nearly launching Harry off, save for quick thinking and grabbing the handle like monkey bars.
Slender said nothing, but his back erupted with tentacles anyway.
The Ex-Professor, wide-eyed at the sight, broke eye-contact with Harry and whipped out his wand-
-only to shout in pain as Smile leapt up and bit his outstretched arm with a force that would cleave an arm for most humans.
Slender heard cheering and spared a glance at Harry who regained full control of the broom, deftly hopped back on and vanished in the thrum of players below.
Quirrell swung his arm enough to dislodge Smile and glared at both. He snarled before vanishing in a column of black mist that traveled like a swarm of gnats across the grounds and to was lost in sight among the Forest.
Slender's tentacles quickly retracted before he and Smile vanished silently once more just before several students and a few faculty members trickled over to investigate the shout.
"A bit unorthodox, but I'll take it!" Wood exclaimed, ecstatically beaming at everything and anyone.
Harry was still grimacing and spitting occasionally. What he wouldn't give for some proper mouthwash right now, "Are those Snitches relatively new or did I just ingest the last 40 years worth of Quidditch grit and grime?"
"No, no, all Snitches are new for every school year." Wood reassured. "It's actually standard to have a new Snitch for each game, but budgets aren't exactly pliable."
"I suppose solid gold isn't all that easy to come by," Harry remarked, a little sarcastic.
Eventually, they reached the castle's entrance where Wood eagerly waved him to follow, "C'mon, Harry. Gryffindor Parties are legendary! Haven't won a game in 5 years, now, so I reckon we're breaking out the butterbeer and firewhiskey," He whispered the last conspiratorially with a dorkily eager grin.
'Harry'
Harry glanced to the side to see Slender standing ominously, but near-invisibly under some trees. "... um, you know what? I'll catch up with you later."
"What?" Wood laughed incredulously. "Harry, you won us the game, you're the guest of honor."
"I know, I know," Harry reassured. "I just have something to do first."
The older boy shrugged defeatedly, "Alright, well don't take too long. We might break open a stache of Honeyduke's."
"... Is that a code for something?" Harry asked suspicious.
"Wha- Oh," Wood laughed, "No, it's a wizarding sweet shop around here. No worries, Harry. I know your Guardian hangs around the castle. Bet that guy isn't the type to take that stuff well. Seems like a... ah, what'd my American cousin call them? A Narc."
He laughed, but Harry's eyes twitched over to where Slender was obviously close-enough to hear.
A faint tingle of Sigma voiced displeasure.
"Well, I'll be heading off. See ya, Harry!" Wood announced, practically floating up to the common room with joy.
Harry waited a moment until he was sure the Keeper of the team was far enough before heading over to Slender.
"Harry, I wanted to check if you were alright." The guardian said, silently.
"Yeah, a bit shaken up by the game. It was fun, I guess. Except for that part with the broom freaking out and tried to kill me."
"I wanted to touch on that, actually. I noticed a cloaked figure behind some student stands and went to confront them. When I did, it was Quirrell, who seemed to be causing your broom's malfunction. He was distracted which broke the spell and after you had escaped, he fled back to the forest."
"So, it wasn't just the broom? But why would he do that?"
"... I neglected to tell you earlier, seeing as I'm not entirely trusting of the mail system-"
"Don't, it's an evil system," Harry affirmed, seriously.
"... very well...? As I was saying, on Halloween shortly after I dropped you all off back in the dormitories, I was walking the hallways and was attacked. I wasn't able to kill the assailant before he fled, but I was able to confirm it was Quirrell."
Harry's eyes blew wide, "Wait! So, he saw you?"
"He saw my tentacles, yes, not my full form. However, this isn't something to take lightly. I suspect he's been hiding in the Forest, so I want you, Adrian, Nikolaus and anyone you can think of to stay out of there. No need to go poking around the spider's nest.
"I doubt he'll make it back onto the grounds. It's too risky and he's already been missing for over a week, so it would raise questions I doubt he'd want to answer. I'm sorely tempted by now to just up and leave this forsaken place, consequences and that Headmaster be damned, but I at least want to stay close by and… deal with Quirrell before he may become a problem. Regardless, stay on your toes, and report anything unusual to me as soon as possible with Adrian's messenger, do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good."
Slender vanished in his telltale black wisps. The sounds of people approaching sent Harry ducking behind one of the trees. He peeked out to see them as they approached.
Snape was stalking by, dragging a protesting Ronald Weasley into the castle by the ear. Professor Sprout looking on disapprovingly as Seamus and Dean trudged reluctantly after. He heard mutterings of 'Professor McGonagall', 'Detention', 'stupid', and 'seriously injure'. He decided he didn't want to know whatever happened.
Though, he noted Snape scowling especially venomously, with a smoldering burn hole at the foot of his cloak.
AN: I hope you enjoyed.
-Crow