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



*
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.
*
For Becca, with love.
*

Chapter Eight – Mysteries and Mistletoe

Madame Pomfrey was startled when the entire DADA class burst into the infirmary, Harry in the lead carrying the plump frog that only a few minutes before had been Neville Longbottom. Becca was on his heels with Trevor in her pocket, a development which Quicksilver, riding on her shoulder, seemed to take with some jealousy.
The infirmary was empty except for the nurse, who was sitting back with a nice cup of tea when they all came in. She was on her feet in a flash, looking them over for injuries. Harry thrust the frog at her and everyone tried to explain at once.
"… Transfiguration spell …"
"… bouncing around …"
"… tried to get out of the way …"
"… Great Ward, but …"
"… didn't know anyone was out …"
"… terrible accident, simply terrible!" That last was Professor Winterwind, wringing his hands and looking distraught.
"Hush, hush, enough!" cried Madame Pomfrey. She held up the frog Harry had given her, slid her glasses down her nose, and peered at it over the top of the frames. "This is no ordinary frog."
"No, ma'am," Harry said. "It's Neville."
"Mr. Longbottom?" she asked.
The frog croaked dolefully. It looked silly hanging there, Madame Pomfrey's fingers clamping it under the forelegs so its little round belly drooped, and its long, spindly legs with their flippered feet dangled.
"It does rather look like him," Ron said helpfully.
"Oh, dear," murmured Madame Pomfrey. "A very strong spell did this to him."
"Ah. Ahem. Yes," said Professor Winterwind. He laughed a tremulous laugh, the same one he'd used when Hermione asked him if they oughtn't learn the lesser Ward spells before moving on to the Great Ward. "I think I can explain that. Unforeseen. My oversight. A problem with the Ward, you see. It deflects the energy but strengthens it."
"And that spell bounced around a lot before hitting Neville," Hermione said. "It must have gone off six or seven Wards, getting stronger each time."
"How'd you know that one anyway?" Dean Thomas asked Becca. "We weren't due to learning any people-Transfigurations until January."
"We'd kind of been reading ahead at night, Hermione and me," Becca confessed. "I always used to do that with my regular school."
"All right, all right," said Madame Pomfrey. "It's best if you all left. I'll see what I can do for poor Mr. Longbottom, but someone will need to inform his House teacher and deliver this note to whatever class he's currently missing."
She gave the note to Harry, and he couldn't help but think that she was singling him out on purpose because she knew he'd have to take it to Snape and tell Snape what had happened.
"I'd best go talk to Professor Dumbledore about all this," Professor Winterwind said. "Oh, he's not going to be pleased. Miss Granger, if you'd be so kind as to tell Hufflepuff? The rest of you are hereby excused to the library. No sense going back to class just now."
As they filed out, Becca fell in beside Harry. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"Coming with you. It's more my fault than yours, so if Professor Snape's going to yell at anybody, it should be me."
"You don't have to do that."
"It was my spell."
He couldn't really argue with that. Becca had left Trevor in with Neville, but carried the bathroom pass that had been found in the hallway. They descended the increasingly dark and gloomy steps until they reached the dungeon level, where they could smell potions brewing and hear the simmering bubble of cauldrons.
They reached the door and took a deep breath together for courage. That turned out to be a mistake, because they sucked in lungsful of the stinking potion fumes and both went into coughing fits. The door, slightly ajar, was yanked the rest of the way open.
"It's about time, Mr. Longbot – Potter? Morgan?" Snape's hands, like claws, fell upon their shoulders. "What's the meaning of this?"
Behind him, in the classroom, they could see the various Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turning to look, all of them with cloth masks covering their mouths and noses to protect them from the foul smoke rising from their cauldrons.
Harry was coughing too hard to say anything sensible, so he waggled the note in Snape's direction. Becca did the same with the bathroom pass. Snape released his pinching grip on their shoulders and took the two items, slipping the bathroom pass into the sleeve of his robe and unfolding the note.
"I see," he said in a clipped way. "And just how did this happen?"
Putting a handkerchief over her face so she could breathe, Becca explained. Harry kept quiet, or as quiet as he could when his chest kept lurching with suppressed coughs. Snape listened broodingly, his black eyes glittering. For some reason, the news of Neville's misfortune seemed to please him. He smirked rather blatantly while Becca was speaking.
"Well," he said when she was done. "Even the great Harry Potter makes mistakes, doesn't he?"
"It was my spell, sir," Becca said. Harry wanted to elbow her, but Snape was between them and he couldn't reach. Snape hated being corrected, especially by a student.
This was no exception. His eyes narrowed and there was no telling what he might have said next if the bell hadn't rung at that very moment. From inside the classroom came a sudden clamor of happy voices and the scrape of chairs. Not just the bell, not just the last bell of the day or the week, but the last bell before Christmas!
Excited students stampeded out the door. Harry and Becca were caught in that tide and went with it, away from Snape. None of the Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws had heard their quiet conversation in the hall, because nobody mentioned Neville. As they reached the corner, they got out of the press of bodies and took shelter in a niche behind a statue of an executioner, grinning at each other with relief over their escape.
When the hallway had cleared some, they ventured out and headed for the stairs, only to stop fast when Harry saw someone coming down. He acted on impulse, pulling Becca behind the executioner again and saying, "Shh!"
Ophidia Winterwind floated down the stairs as gracefully as a ghost, although considerably more substantial. She trailed her long, red-tipped fingers along the banister, smiling in approval at the cobwebs, the leering gargoyles and bat sculptures on the walls, and the ever-flame torches flickering in their rusty iron holders.
"Isn't that Winterwind's sister?" whispered Becca. "What's she doing here?"
"Maybe she's here to see Snape," Harry replied. "Come on."
They crept to the corner and peeked around just as Ophidia's voice drifted lazily to them. She was at the doorway to the Potions classroom, poised there with one hand high on the doorjamb and the other on her hip. "Good evening, Severus."
From within the room came the sudden clatter of crockery and a crash. "Ophidia? What … what a surprise."
"I do hope I'm not interrupting. Class is over?"
"Yes. Yes, just tidying up. They're slovenly little monsters."
"I've come to spend the holidays with my dear baby brother," she said. "Only he didn't seem to be in class. You wouldn't happen to know where he's gotten to, would you?"
"As a matter of fact, I do." Snape's voice sounded sourly amused. "He let his students test their Great Wards today."
"How bad was it?"
"A passer-by was turned into a frog, but that was the extent."
"Oh, dear. Reggie, Reggie, Reggie. I'm really amazed that Dumbledore hired him. Whatever was he thinking?"
"That is an excellent question," snarled Snape.
Ophidia Winterwind moved into the room, and Harry and Becca inched closer. Harry would have given anything for his Invisibility Cloak right then, but it was up in his dormitory, at the bottom of his trunk.
"They must have been desperate. Everyone's heard about the troubles Hogwarts has been having keeping a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Do you know what I think their problem is?"
"What?"
Harry and Becca reached the doorway and poked their heads around. Ophidia and Snape were at the front of the room, him methodically pointing his wand at the shards of broken crockery from the pot he'd dropped, her leaning against the edge of his desk.
"They keep looking too far from home."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Come now, Severus, of course you do. Everyone knows. You're perfectly qualified to teach DADA, and it's positively shameful the way they keep passing you over. Punishing you for things that happened years ago. My word, they kept Hagrid on after he was turning all manner of grotesque monsters loose in the castle. And let's not forget that scandal with Minerva McGonagall! Your …" She pursed her lips thoughtfully while trying to come up with a word, and Harry was both fascinated and revolted by the hungry way Snape watched her. "Your indiscretions, shall we say, were far less than either of theirs."
"Kind of you to say, Ophidia, but you and I see things in a somewhat different light, don't we?"
She tossed her hair. "One could say that. But it really is most unfair, Severus. You've proven yourself again and again. What more do they want from you? Blood?"
Her smile when she said that was very wide, revealing teeth that were white and straight and looked, although Harry hoped it was just a trick of the shadows, extremely pointed. Snape laughed, but his laugh had a rather nervous quality.
"I'm sure that Dumbledore --"
"Oh, don't stick up for him. It's so boring, and you're not fooling me. How you put up with the way he treats you, I'll never know. It isn't that much to ask, you'd be splendid at the job, but what does he do instead? Continually hires dunces and oddballs. And Gilderoy Lockhart, by Voldemort!"
Harry about leapt out of his skin, hearing her use the name as an oath like that. Becca yanked him back from the door in a hurry.
"What's got into you?" she hissed. "They'll hear!"
"Anyone with half a brain," Ophidia Winterwind went on, "knew that there was no way he could be anything but a fraud. All those empty-headed witches fawning over him. The others were no better. At least Quirrell knew what he was doing."
"I'd rather not talk about that, if you don't mind."
"Quirrell? Why? Because you got in the way of his plans and thereby hindered the Dark Lord? I still don't know why you did it."
"I had my reasons. The Sorcerer's Stone was too dangerous, even for Lord Voldemort. You weren't one of us anyway, so I'd just as soon you kept your opinions to yourself."
"Don't be cross with me, Severus," she crooned. "You know my heart's in the right place."
"But I question your loyalties and your ambition. Not to mention your methods. Why are you really here, Ophidia?"
"To visit my brother, as I told you. I had a feeling he'd get himself in trouble. He even asked me to come in as a guest lecturer after the holiday, did he tell you?"
"No, he didn't. I wouldn't have thought you'd consider it. Your memories of Hogwarts can't be all that pleasant."
"You're not talking about James, are you? My word, Severus, I've been over that for ages! Just because I liked him first and that tart stole him away from me is no reason to carry a grudge."
Hearing his father's name come out of this woman's mouth gave Harry a chill.
"Pointless, too," Snape said. "As they're both dead."
"Besides, what I felt for James was never serious. Just a crush, a silly schoolgirl crush."
"What about what you felt for me?"
Becca, next to Harry, was making gagging motions. Harry would have been doing the same except that he was deeply troubled by the idea that Ophidia Winterwind had known his parents.
"I don't know what you mean," she said to Snape.
"Were you using me to make Potter jealous?"
"Severus," she chided. "Why don't you leave this mess for later and come up to dinner? Most of those ghastly little brutes will be on their way to the train station by now. We can discuss this more over a nice glass of eggnog. 'Tis the season, you know."
Harry weighed their chances of making it back to the concealing executioner unseen. If Snape knew they'd overheard this of all conversations … he signaled frantically to Becca and they scurried for cover, making it just as Snape and Ophidia Winterwind came out of the Potions classroom and he closed and locked it behind them. She had her hand tucked in the crook of his arm and they walked side by side down the hall, passing within inches of the hiding students without seeing them.
"Guh-ross," Becca said when they'd gone. "I thought for a minute he was going to kiss her."
"Those were my parents she was talking about," Harry said.
"Weird, isn't it? To think they had lives before they had kids. But come on, we'd better get out of here before Filch finds us."
They took the long way to make sure of not running into Snape in the halls. All over the castle, the decorations were magically appearing. Garlands and wreaths, ornaments, swags of evergreen, Yule logs in every fireplace. Half of the portraits were wearing Santa hats. From the kitchens came the aromas of roasting turkey, pies, and spiced cider. Long strands of lights, tiny and twinkling in red and green, strung themselves through the air. They could see snow falling, fluffy white flakes of it, outside the windows.
Dozens of people rushed by, shouting good-byes and Merry Christmases, promising to see each other next year. Harry and Becca arrived back in Gryffindor tower just as the Weasleys were coming out with their somewhat shabby overnight cases.
"There you are!" cried Ron. "Thought Snape decided to chop you up and boil you into something. What took so long?"
"I'll have to write you about it," Harry said. "How'd it go with Neville?"
"Dunno," Ron said. "We were in the library. Hermione's probably still there, looking up all the ways of turning a frog back into a human. If old Neville was a prince, Becca here might have to kiss him to break the spell."
"Ha, ha," said Becca. "I'm not kissing Neville no matter what he is."
"Hurry it up, Ron," urged Fred. "I hear Hagrid."
Everyone could hear Hagrid. They could probably hear Hagrid in London. He was bellowing from the front lawn where he was waiting with the sled to take people to the station. The wagon was harnessed to four owl-bears, which Hagrid had found abandoned in their nest and raised up himself, and in the spirit of the holidays he'd put fake antlers and red foam noses on each of them.
Hermione blew past so fast she might have been flying, gasping out, "Nothing yet, maybe you can look it up while I'm gone, Harry, though I'm sure Madame Pomfrey will be able to fix him right up. This sort of thing probably happens all the time. Though with the spell intensified, who knows? Got to dash. Have a good time, everyone, Happy Christmas!"
Although the Weasleys had gotten a head start, Hermione was back with her bag and her coat and scarf before they'd gone halfway down the hall. This was due in part to Ron still trying to ask Harry what had happened down in the dungeon, and Ginny hesitating like she wasn't sure if she'd forgotten something or not. The decorations that had been spinning their magical way through the castle reached Gryffindor tower, and the Fat Lady giggled from her portrait as her frame was festooned with gold garland. She pulled on a Santa hat, picked up a wrapped gift, and bustled off to some other portrait, leaving the secret door standing wide open.
"You'd better go," Harry said. "Happy Christmas!" He started to step through.
"Wait, Harry!" The words seemed to pop out of Ginny before she could catch herself.
Harry, half in and half out of the common room, looked back. Ginny ran to him, her cheeks turning red, her eyes sparkling. She pointed above his head.
"What?" Harry looked up. There, right over him in the doorway, was a sprig of something green with white berries, tied in red ribbon.
"You're under the mistletoe," Ginny squeaked, and before Harry could move, she'd thrown her arms around him and given him a big kiss. Stunned, he could only stand there blinking while she ran back to her brothers. They could barely call out their good-byes, they were laughing so hard.
"Who put mistletoe here?" Harry hopped out of the doorway, wiping his face and grimacing. "Whose brilliant idea was that?"
Becca, bent double with mirth at the whole thing, sobered enough to say, "Maybe it was Professor Snape. Maybe he's hoping to catch Ophidia Winterwind under it."
"Very funny."
The castle gradually quieted as those going home departed. Those who remained got cleaned up and dressed for dinner, but before the first course was even served in the festively-decorated Great Hall, the doors banged open and Neville Longbottom's grandmother stormed in.

**

Continued in Chapter Nine -- The Human Howler



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