Harry Potter and the Exchange Student
by Christine Morgan
christine@sabledrake.com
http://www.christine-morgan.org



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Author's Note: the characters of the Harry Potter novels are the property of their creator, J.K. Rowling, and are used here without her knowledge or permission. All other characters property of the author, with the exceptions of Becca Morgan and her parents, who are themselves. November 2001. 35,000 words.
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For Becca, with love.
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Chapter Five – Open House

Despite Professor Trelawney's dire predictions, life at Hogwarts got into its normal routine. Harry's lost books turned up when a message arrived from a shopkeep in Diagon Alley; while cleaning, he'd found a brown-wrapped parcel on the highest, dustiest shelf in his store. Luckily, the shopkeep was a friend of Leonilla Blott, and the bookstore proprietress certainly remembered Harry.
Neither the shopkeep nor Harry could explain how the books had gotten there. Harry hadn't even been in that shop, which sold basic school supplies. Thanks to Hermione's gift, he had all he needed. It remained a mystery, but a relief because he no longer had to scramble to borrow and return textbooks from other students.
Quidditch practice began while the weather was still fair, and Harry delighted in speeding around the field chasing after the golden Snitch. Between that and homework, his days were very full, and the distractions of the Gryffindor common room only added to it.
As it turned out, Ron Weasley finally had some competition. Becca Morgan was nearly his match when it came to wizard chess, once she'd gotten used to the way the pieces were alive and dealt rather brutally with each other. Further, she devised a card game using the trading cards that came in each Chocolate Frog, with cunning rules that were simple enough to learn in one sitting but complex enough to fascinate the entire dorm.
By Halloween, a sort of Wizard War fever had seized Gryffindor. Honeydukes, the candy shop down in Hogsmeade, had never done such a business in Chocolate Frogs before as everyone tried to complete their sets to build the best possible winning deck. Only Hermione was able to resist, claiming she had better things to do with her time.
She was probably right, because quite a bit of homework was left undone. Eventually, concerned by what she was seeing, Professor McGonagall popped in unexpectedly one evening and caught half of her House engrossed in the game. Becca, pale but brave, stood forth and confessed to it being her fault, clearly braced to get in trouble for it.
Professor McGonagall looked steadily at her for a long time, then astonished them all by asking if Becca could teach her how to play. Only when midnight arrived and Nearly Headless Nick drifted through on his routine haunt and was startled to see so many students still up and a teacher sitting with them, did McGonagall snap out of it. She declared that from then on, homework had to come first, and if she caught anyone up playing cards after bedtime, she'd personally see to it that Gryffindor lost fifty points.
Not long thereafter, though, the Weasley twins came in snickering, to report that they'd just been in a secret passage with a peephole into the teacher's lounge, and there they'd seen four professors playing a lively game with decks of their own.
Halloween was always a remarkable occasion at Hogwarts. Hagrid outdid himself every year by growing progressively bigger pumpkins, and this year he had a dozen that were bigger than his cottage. Too big, in fact, to fit inside the Great Hall and still leave room for the people. So he carved them with an axe instead, and lit them with ever-fire, and for the rest of the autumn twelve monstrous glowing faces leered from the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Lessons proceeded normally. Snape continued to be lenient with the Slytherins and harsh on the Gryffindors, particularly Harry and his friends. Reginald Winterwind was finally satisfied with the way everyone in class was making a fist for the Great Ward spell, and moved on to the proper pronunciation of the command word, "Avertus!"
The first Quidditch match of the season pitted Gryffindor against Ravenclaw. Harry and the rest of the team donned their colorful Quidditch robes and waited, brooms in hand, for the game to begin. It was a crisp, beautiful fall day, the sky a bright blue that seemed to go on forever. The stands were packed, banners waving in Gryffindor red and Ravenclaw blue.
Madame Hooch brought out the game balls, her black and white robes flapping around her. She set them into play and the game began. As Seeker, Harry's only jobs were to keep his eyes peeled for the tiny golden spark that was the Snitch, and to avoid being knocked out by the Bludgers.
There were many things he loved about Hogwarts, but this was at the top of the list. Nothing could be grander than the swift speeding of a broomstick, the challenge of evading the Bludgers, the thrill of the chase, and the victorious joy of catching the Snitch in his hand.
This time, he and the Ravenclaw Seeker were both right on the Snitch, and being so close to the pretty Cho Chang was almost enough to distract him from the game but he knew his team was counting on him. As they were both reaching, Cho's fingers just grazing it, Harry snatched it into his fist. Rather than look cross, she smiled in acknowledgement of a well-played move, and Harry blushed so brightly he thought his face might catch fire. One of these days, he hoped to gather the courage to speak to her for more than two sentences at a stretch.
With a Gryffindor win under their belts, the team was all swagger and reacted with smug pleasure when they heard the next game would be against their rival House, Slytherin. It was well known that Slytherin was tired of losing to Gryffindor, tired in particular of losing to one Harry Potter – especially as his nemesis, Draco Malfoy, was their Seeker and Harry's opposite number. Slytherin played hard, and they played dirty, and half of any game against them was being on the lookout for treachery.
The most exciting bit of news came later that week, when Professor Dumbledore announced that Hogwarts would be holding an Open House for the first time in a decade. Their relatives would be invited to come and spend two days, seeing what the classes were like, eating in the Great Hall alongside them, and joining them in the stands to watch the Gryffindor-Slytherin match.
The house-elves were busy all week cleaning the Guest Tower so vigorously that dust puffed out the windows and the sounds of sweeping could be heard all through the castle. Owls left in droves carrying the invitations, and returning with the replies.
Needless to say, the Dursleys did not write back to say they would be coming. Harry could just see Dudley visiting Hogwarts. He wished he did have some relative who could come. Sirius, for obvious reasons, wouldn't dare. He didn't really have anyone else. Malfoy, whose mother and father would most certainly be in attendance, missed no chance to gloat. That is, when he wasn't busy being irritated that the doors of Hogwarts were even opening to Muggles like the Grangers and Kertches like the Morgans.
Of all the students, Becca and Hermione were probably the most excited and for just that reason. Most of the rest had at least one witch or wizard in the family who'd studied at Hogwarts themselves, but for the girls, it was a perfect chance to show their parents what the magical world was all about. Hermione didn't even get mad when Malfoy said that the only reason her parents were coming was because they planned to check everyone for cavities.
The teachers would be having visitors too, which surprised Harry and then made him feel embarrassed at his surprise. Of course, teachers had families. They had to have somewhere to go over the summer. With the exception of Professor Binns, the ghost who taught history, they had lives outside of Hogwarts.
"Sure," Ron said when Harry mentioned this. "For all we know, Dumbledore's got a wife and fifteen kids. And maybe there's a Mr. McGonagall. Or Snape's mom will come, could you just see it!"
The appointed day arrived. The Guest Tower was sparkling clean, as were all the dorms and common rooms. Halls that hadn't been dusted in ten years now gleamed with polished wood. Even the portraits were spruced up and excited. Peeves the poltergeist, who would have liked nothing better than to dump a bucket of worms onto someone's aunt or break the floor under someone's uncle, was rounded up by the other ghosts working in rare unison, and banished to the third-floor corridor for the day.
Classes for the day were cancelled, although the teachers would spend the school hours in their classrooms to talk to visitors. After breakfast, the students all flocked to the wide grassy lawn that sloped down toward the village. They could see the clouds of steam that marked a special run of the Hogwarts Express, rumbling to the station.
Hagrid, in a new jacket as red as dragon's blood, a yellow belt that could have gone around any three normal people, and the biggest boots anyone had ever seen, was sent to meet them and escort them up in a carriage made from one of his giant pumpkins. Someone – Harry was betting McGonagall – had conjured up a team of winged horses to pull it.
The orange carriage rolled to a stop. Hagrid got down from the driver's seat and opened the door, bowing until the end of his bushy beard brushed the tops of his new boots. "Welcome ter Hogwarts, ladies'n'gennlemen!"
The first ones out were witches and wizards, resplendent in their dress robes. They poured out in a chattering throng, fanning through the crowd of students – also in dress robes – to find their sons, daughters, nephews, nieces, grandchildren, or siblings. Then came a few hesitant faces, looking warily at the vast castle.
Harry recognized Hermione's parents, having seen them before in Diagon Alley. They acted like they felt very out of place but were determined to make the best of it for Hermione's sake. She raced to them, seizing each by the hand and talking a mile a minute.
The last ones out were Becca's parents. While the wizards and witches had smiled in fond nostalgia at the sight of Hogwarts, and the Muggles had seemed mostly unsure or even scared, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan couldn't have been more delighted with the castle, the surroundings, the owls flying in formation overhead. They hugged Becca so much that it made Harry a little jealous. In fact, there was a lot of hugging going on and none of it for him, until Mrs. Weasley came over after greeting her children and embraced him, too.
Draco Malfoy's parents and the other pureblood snobs stood apart, not deigning to mix with the Muggles. Harry hadn't seen them emerge from the carriage, either, and guessed that they'd Apparated here rather than share the same train. Dislike made Harry's mouth taste sour.
Professor Dumbledore didn't have a wife and fifteen children, as Ron had suggested. Incredibly, his mother was here, the oldest witch Harry had ever seen. She was thin as a twig, like she might blow away in a good wind if not for her heavy purple robes weighing her down. Snape had no visitors and stood as silent and dark as a crow among sparrows while people moved all around.
There were many flamboyant and striking guests, but if prizes were being given out, the blue ribbon for flamboyance would have to go to Neville Longbottom's grandmother. She was very tall and very regal, with her hair swept up in a braided bun studded with jewels. Her robes were a rich red sewn all in silver and gold in patterns of moons, stars, and suns. She held a staff that was as tall as she was, gnarled but polished wood ending in a real mummified dragon's claw that grasped a smooth crystal ball as big as a Bludger. Her face was hard and stern, like something that primitive tribesmen might carve in the side of a mountain and worship as a goddess.
She was surrounded by Longbottoms, and it was no wonder that Neville had sometimes thought he was in the wrong family. They all radiated power and confidence, while Neville, in their midst holding a squirmy and unhappy Trevor in both hands, looked like he had to go to the bathroom.
"Harry!" called Neville, somewhat desperately. "Come and meet my Gran!"
Harry obligingly started to go over, but Mrs. Longbottom pinned him with a look so cold it was like icicles had shot out of her eyes. Harry stumbled over his own feet and came to a clumsy halt.
"We'll see your room now, Neville," she declared without taking her icicle eyes off Harry.
"Um, all right, Gran." Neville looked questioningly at Harry, but Harry was as puzzled as him and could only shrug.
He watched as the Longbottoms, some of them seeming as mystified as he and Neville, went off toward the castle and Gryffindor tower. He might have stayed there all day if Becca hadn't come up with her parents in tow.
"Mom, Dad, this is Harry. He's in Gryffindor, too."
Plenty of the other students had either brought their relatives over or pointed Harry out, and it had been the same old thing – "look, it's him, it's really him, Harry Potter!" But once again, his reputation hadn't preceded him as far as Becca's family was concerned. Her father, mustached with a fedora and a discreet eye-and-pyramid pin in his lapel, shook Harry's hand. Her mother, on the heavy side but with quick, knowing eyes behind her glasses, smiled at him.
"There goes Potter," he heard Malfoy say. "Slumming with the Kertches."
"That's just Draco," Becca said loudly to her parents. "Every school's got a bully, and he's ours."
"Uh-oh, now you've done it," Harry said as Lucius Malfoy took long, purposeful strides toward them.
"Pardon me," he said coolly, "but did you call my son a bully?"
"Yeah," Becca said fearlessly. Her smile was sweet but devilish at the same time.
"Do you think that's wise?"
"Wise or not, it's true," Harry heard himself say, as if his mouth was running of its own accord.
Lucius Malfoy sniffed at him. "I expected better of you, Potter. You, at least, have a half-decent ancestry. It's a shame you choose to make so little of it."
"A pleasure to meet you, too," said Becca's mom. "I guess it's true what they say, isn't it? The nut doesn't fall far from the tree."
Those near enough to hear – and everyone who was near enough to hear was certainly listening – snickered. The elder Malfoy flushed crimson and stalked away, snarling darkly under his breath. If half the magical community hadn't been watching, Harry didn't doubt that things might have gotten pretty ugly just then. He was sure he and Becca would pay for it later when Draco Malfoy caught up with them, but for now it was worth it.
"You know Hogwarts better than me, Harry," Becca said. "Can you show us around?"
"This is," her dad said in the most rapturous tone Harry had ever heard, "the most incredible place. I wish I'd gone to a school like this."
He really meant it, too. Everywhere Harry took them, the Morgans went crazy over the castle and the furnishings and just couldn't get enough. When they reached the library, Harry thought they'd need Hagrid to come and carry Becca's father out by force.
It all made Harry feel a little better. They joined up with the Weasleys and the Grangers in time for lunch. The Great Hall had been expanded somehow, the tables so long that they seemed to go on forever in order to make room for everyone. After, they toured the classrooms and talked to the teachers. The Morgans managed to even thaw Snape slightly when they admired the dungeon for its gloomy, oppressive atmosphere.
"Yes, isn't it?" he nearly purred, and preened a little as if it had all been entirely his doing.
The afternoon was spent with a trip to Hogsmeade, the wizard village. Hermione's parents were as uncomfortable here as they were in Diagon Alley, but the Morgans had a splendid time. They nearly lost Becca's father again in a bookstore, and her mother bought a bagful of souvenirs. Then it was time to go back to Hogwarts for dinner, and the families retired to the Guest Tower to rest up for the next day's big Quidditch game.
Harry and Becca were on their way back to Gryffindor tower when Ron, out of breath, ran up to them. He was so winded he could barely talk, picking at their sleeves and gesturing frantically.
"What?" Becca asked. "Is someone in trouble?"
"Huh," Ron said, shaking his head. "Winner …"
"What?" Harry asked.
"Winterwind. Sister. You gotta come see." Without waiting for a reply, Ron rushed them back the way he'd come. Once he got his breath back, he spoke rapidly. "Dad's off quizzing the Grangers and Mom went with Ginny to her room to let down the hems on her uniform skirts. I left my bag of toffees in the DADA room and wanted to get it before Fred and George could do anything disgusting to it. But when I got there, she was there. Talking to Winterwind."
"His sister? Not the one Hermione said was Snape's …" Harry couldn't even bring himself to say the word.
Ron bobbed his head. Rather than speak, he put a finger to his lips for silence. The three of them slowed to a fast tip-toe sneak, sidling up to the corner where the corridor leading to Winterwind's classroom branched off.
"… really would appreciate it," Reginald Winterwind was saying. "I'm afraid I'm just not going to be able to do it alone."
"Reggie, dear," said a woman, "you know I'm always glad to help when it comes to the Dark Arts."
They came out of the classroom and as Winterwind locked the door behind them, Harry had a good chance to look at his sister. Back when he'd first heard about Snape possibly having a girlfriend, and tried to imagine what she'd look like, all he could think of was a female version of Snape.
She had black hair like Snape, but where his was lank and oily, hers was lustrous and fell in waves to her waist. She had pale skin like Snape, but where his was sallow, hers was white as a snow-sculpture. Her lips were deep red, as were her eyes. In a robe that was really more of a clinging gown than a robe, and a gown that gave the impression of having been made from silvery black snakeskin at that, she could have stepped right from the pages of Gilderoy Lockhart's vampire book.
"Thanks, Phiddie," Winterwind said.
"Don't call me Phiddie." The humor left her voice, her tone all frost and steel now.
"I'm sorry. Giddy, you know. With relief. This position means a lot to me. I'd hate to lose it."
"We won't let that happen." She moved toward the corner, not walking but gliding as if her feet didn't touch the ground. "It's a great honor to teach at Hogwarts. I wouldn't want you to disgrace our family by botching it."
"They're up to something, see?" hissed Ron. "I knew it."
"They're probably in league with --" Harry began, and Becca jabbed him in the ribs and cleared her throat.
He turned, and his heart plunged down an elevator shaft that had opened up in his middle. Snape was right behind them, while his name was still trembling on the tip of Harry's tongue.
"Spying, Potter?" Snape asked with his own brand of bitter glee. "You shouldn't be down here at this hour."
Before any of them could think of something to say, the Winterwinds rounded the corner. Snape froze.
"Why, Severus Snape," Winterwind's sister said. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Ophidia," Snape said.
She blinked at him, a long slow blink that made her lashes seem like curling spider legs. "I only just arrived, a bit late, I'm afraid. But if you've the time, I'd love to get together and chat."
"Perhaps you'd join me at the Quidditch game tomorrow?" he asked.
"That would be perfect." Again, the thing with the eyelashes. "It's been a while, hasn't it? You're looking well."
"You are …" Snape drew a deep breath. "Lovely as ever."
"Oh, Severus, you flirt," cooed Ophidia Winterwind. She flicked her fingers against his cheek as she glided past him. "Until tomorrow."
She hadn't even noticed the three thunderstruck students, and as he rotated in place to watch her go, apparently Snape had forgotten all about them too. Because what he did next was something that Harry would have sworn on his parents' names that he never would have seen.
Snape smiled.

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Continued in Chapter Six -- Foul Play



2001 / Christine Morgan / http://www.christine-morgan.org / christine@sabledrake.com