Web of Darkness
A/N: Yay! Reviews!!! Lovin' them! And it'll get better (the story)--honestly, once everything starts going. Please R/R this too--thank you. I hope you like it! And point out any stupid mistakes I've made! :-)
Part Three:
"Hurry up and spill the beans!" Harry urged, wondering what could provoke the Gryffindors so badly.
"Snape wants all the Houses to find an entirely different Quidditch team—all but Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Everyone knows the Hufflepuffs don't stand a chance whatever team they have, and the Slytherin's are Snape's favorite...He says that he wants to give everyone a stinking chance, but all he wants is to get YOU—" Ron prodded Harry's forearm harshly. "To get off the team so Slytherin'll actually win a game against us! I bet that was the way his mind was thinking!"
Mouth agape, Harry was dumbstruck. When he finally gained control of his voice, all he could emit was a stream of incomprehensible words. "Wha—What? I can't play on the team? WHAT!!!????"
"HARRY!" two voices chorused together, the voices tinged with anger. Two identical red-heads were weaving their way towards him, faces grim and set.
"Did you hear?" George asked anxiously, his eyes fiery. "Can you believe that he would sink so low? We'll have to hold tryouts—and pick the people who would do best...and hope for the best, ultimately."
"Maybe Ronnie-kins will prove a good Keeper!" Fred joked, attempting to brighten Harry's somber mood.
"But how can he just not allow Hufflepuff and Slytherin to change?" Harry asked, confused.
"He says that no one in Slytherin wants a chance to play Quidditch, but, from what he's heard, lots of Gryffindors want the chance to play on the team," Fred explained matter-of-factly. "McGonagall filled me an' George in..." Fred and George were co-captains of the team, since Wood had left.
"Stupid! That scum-boat! Spilling his oil where no one wants it!" Ron roared, directing his anger to an unfortunate lamp, which shattered on contact with the ground. With mock-severe look from George, it was fixed with the wave of a wand.
"Why is Snape in charge now?" Fred asked curiously after calming Ron down.
"Dumbledore had too leave on business," Harry answered quickly before Ron could say anything. "Let me get this straight. Snape wants Gryffindor and Ravenclaw to find completely different teams, because he wants to give others a chance at Quidditch. And he says that Slytherin and Hufflepuff don't need to because no one wants to play. Is that right?"
Gravely, the twins nodded before sauntering away, pointing at various people and talking in hushed whispers.
Before Ron could say anything, Harry stuffed a large cream puff into his mouth.
*************
The next morning, bright and early, Harry found himself tangled in his sheets at the foot of his bed, sweating profusely. His memory, still hazy, roved over a few scenes of his still-fresh nightmare. The details were alluding him quickly...he screwed his eyes shut tight, willing himself to remember what had been happening—and he forgot completely. Nothing came to his blank mind.
Deciding there was no use crying over spilt milk, he dressed quickly in a pair of wrinkled black robes and tucked his wand away in a pocket, bracing himself for the sure-to-be-horrible day that awaited him, what with Snape as headmaster.
Before he shook Ron awake, his eyes grazed his alarm-clock—only 5:30. Ron would surely yell at him for waking him up at such an early hour. He drew Ron's bed curtains shut once more and hurried down the stairs, his empty stomach growling occasionally to remind him where to go.
Only a few sleepy looking teachers and students were at the breakfast tables, where bowls of porridge and chunks of toast remained hot and untouched.
Much to Harry's displeasure, Snape was sitting in the raised chair where Dumbledore usually sat, looking highly pleased with himself as he took large swigs from a golden goblet encrusted with false rubies.
Imagining that the piece of toast was Snape's head, Harry crunched down viciously, tearing chunks away and swallowing them quickly.
"A horrible day ahead," Harry moaned to himself as he downed a glass of milk and pushed himself away from the table. "Snape. As headmaster. I'll be expelled in three second flat..."
"Get moving, Potter, or you'll be late for your first class." Snape's ugly face loomed behind Harry's neck. "And with me in charge, you can be sure you won't be allowed to toe out of line—so be on your watch. Potter," Snape spat, glaring at Harry with loathing. Harry felt a sudden urge to grab a container of yogurt and shove it into Snape's face, but decided against it. The last thing he needed was to be expelled.
"Yes, and I will make sure you are expelled if you give me any reason whatsoever," Snape leered, his cold eyes boring into Harry's green ones.
Harry was still miserably picking at a few bits of cold scrambled egg when Ron rushed in, obviously out of breath.
"Harry! We'll be late! And with Snape lurking around, we'd better be perfect!" Ron said hastily, shoving the last forkful of egg into Harry's mouth and dragging him off, chair toppled over.
"Erm..." Harry trailed off, at a lost for words. Ron urging that they be on time, instead of Hermione?
In a record three minutes, Ron had managed to get both him and Harry safely (though a bit battered) into their seats for Defense Against the Dark Arts before the first bell sounded. Hermione, as expected, was sitting primly in her seat, front center, her face a picture of rapt attention.
"There you are!" she groaned before lowering her voice. "Snape's supervising." She jabbed a thumb towards the back of the room, where the temporary Headmaster was triumphantly seated.
Looking at each other for a split second, both boys grabbed a desk at the very front of the room.
Professor Cetilwhasp bustled into the classroom, looking very windblown and flustered. She dropped her books quickly on the desk and hastily tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. All in all, Harry thought that she looked like a nervous camper.
"Er...please flip your books to...er..." Professor Cetilwhasp chanced a quick glance at Professor Snape, who was sitting cross-legged, scribbling something onto a roll of parchment.
"Excuse me. We left last week on page 347," Hermione interceded politely, ignoring the shady look Snape was throwing at her.
Cetilwhasp flashed a thankful smile in Hermione's direction.
The rest of the day dragged on, without anything out-of-the ordinary occurring.
"It's too quiet—something's up," Ron had whispered once to Harry doing a dull Divinations class. Harry wholeheartedly agreed, so when the day eventually drew to a close, he was very grateful.
**********************
Voldemorts red eyes shone maliciously from the shadows as he circled around an unconscious figure.
"And I knew I would be the one to finally eliminate you from the game...." He allowed himself a cruel smile before vanishing in a swirl of black.
**************************
"This really isn't a good idea..." Hermione worried, just barely loud enough for Harry and Ron to hear. The trio crept down the hall, working harder than ever to keep quiet under the silvery Invisibility Cloak.
"So?" Ron shot back intelligently, wincing as Harry accidentally trod on his overlarge feet.
"Snape! That's what!" Hermione retorted in a strained, high-pitched voice. "We're good as dead if he finds us!"
Beams of pure moonlight filtered through the cracks between the golden curtains draped across large windows. Harry felt a leap of excitement in his chest as they rounded the corner, though he knew that Hermione was right.
"Where to this fine night?" Ron was the first to break the deathly silence.
"I figure we'd start off from that secret passage we found last week...you know, that long one? I noticed a trail leading off towards the end of it..." Harry began.
"Fantastic!" Ron said, not bothering to keep his voice down. His voice echoed down the hallway, seeming to Harry as if someone had just screamed something in his ear.
Harry froze instantly, ears pricked. Someone was coming...he could barely hear the light pitter of feet against floor...yes...and it was getting louder. Slowly getting louder, yes, but louder all the same.
"Guys—move. Someone's coming—." Harry's voice was laced through with thick urgency. He knew how fast Snape would kick him out—he had been longing to for years, and he surely wouldn't miss his chance.
With lots of pinching, poking, and 'ows', they managed to get crammed into a tiny corner. Harry felt his heart beating rapidly—his breaths coming slightly ragged as he waited impatiently for the mysterious person to come into view.
A few seconds ticked by—than—Snape strode deftly in front of them, than stopped only three feet away from where they were harbored.
Harry strained to see what Snape was up to—he was pulling something out of his pocket—a wand.
"Oh no," Hermione breathed, and Harry's muscles tensed, bracing himself for the worst. Snape stood motionless for a while before tucking his wand away again, his profile sharply silhouetted in the moonlight. "So, Potter, never heard of the Revealo Charm?"
Harry gulped.
A/N: 'Thoust reviews make thy joyful'
William Shakespeare
