Author's Note: No I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own most of these
characters. I do like the title 'Midnight Maneuvers' though, because it
sounds cool. I guess it relates to what happens later on, but its not a
major part of the story.
1 Chapter 3
Midnight Maneuvers
It had begun to rain that night, and well into the next day as Harry got up to go to breakfast. As he passed Ron's bed, he gave his sleeve a tug, for Ron had a tendency to not hear the bell in the morning (the wake- up call).
Harry then went to dress into his uniform, which was lying on a chair beside his bed. Once he was wearing the right attire, he turned to tell Ron, who had by now managed to get his eyes open: "I'm going to go to breakfast now. Unless you want me to wait."
" No, you can go." Ron sat up with the energy of a sloth. "I'd probably hold you back. Not much of a morning person, you know."
" I can see that." Harry grasped a comb and ran it through his hair, then gave up when every single strand on his head slowly flowed back into its original position.
Once he had managed to get past the portrait of the fat lady (she was still drowsy from a long night, for Neville forgot the password and stayed by the fat lady until two in the morning, begging her to let him in).
The dining hall smelled wonderful of candles and incense. Behind him, Malfoy was entering, but he reacted differently: "Ew! Who died?"
" It's just candles. They make it smell very nice." A thick accent spoke back to Mafloy.
As much as Harry didn't want to look at Draco right now, he had to turn around to see what Rebecca Crick would be doing with Draco, out of all people. They were walking together, Draco looking about as pleased with himself as a person could possibly be.
Rebecca had a strange taste in boys, obviously, because Draco was not only the most unpleasant boy Harry could even think of, but at the same time two years younger then her, so at least three inches shorter (Draco was tall for his age, but not that tall). And now, with Rebecca wearing high heels, Draco was at least four inches below her, and looking more like a little brother then a boyfriend.
Harry quickly turned and walked to the Gryffindor table before Draco and Rebecca could see him. He was sure that Draco had told Rebecca the false story of why Harry was looking a bit beat up.
There were few people at the Gryffindor table yet, for they were all probably taking twice as long to get past the fat lady portrait. Nick Chang, Cho's cousin, was there, though. Nick sat down beside Harry right away, ready to start a long and rather semi-interesting conversation, most likely about Cho.
" Hey, Harry."
" Oh, hi, Nick." Harry acted as if never in his whole life he'd expect to find himself talking to Nick. This made Nick happy.
" You didn't think I'd be up so early, right?" Nick asked. " I mean, being first-year and all, you'd think I'd sleep like a log until Christmas Eve. Well, here I am!"
" Yeah." Harry said, not really knowing what he was saying 'yeah' for, but it seemed an appropriate comment at the time.
" Congratulations on being Gryffindor captain." Nick continued.
" I might have to resign." Harry said, sadly.
" Are you nuts? Why?" Nick seemed to lose half his respect for Harry all of a sudden.
" Voldemort - I mean, You-Know-Who - is out still, you know. I shouldn't make myself too out-in-the-open." Harry explained.
" It's not like you have a bull's eye painted on your back or something. It's only the greatest honor to be a captain of a Quidditch team!" Nick looked dreamy. " I'd love to be captain."
" Maybe you can be one. Just work your way up from second year." Harry told him.
" I can't."
" Why?"
" I'm one of those . . . butter-fingered kind of people. I can't catch a ball; it naturally just slips out of my hand. I'm surprised I can eat with a knife and fork, that's how clumsy I can be." Nick sighed. " I sure wish that it was possible, though."
" Being captain is about as easy as swallowing fire. I mean, the whole team really would rely on me to bring them to a win. I have to draw out the game plans and stuff. And they're so complicated. I remember Oliver Wood - the last captain of Gryffindor. Instead of saying 'cross the field', he'd draw a million tiny X's and arrows and dots and circles, and he'd mumble about something endlessly. And that's just crossing the field!" Harry suddenly had discouraged himself even more from being captain, so he stopped.
" Maybe Oliver had spasms in his arm or something. Couldn't draw a straight line so he took the long way." Nick laughed happily, being still at the age where things like potty-humor and stupid corny jokes were all the rage.
" Yeah, okay." Harry smiled and then looked around the room. He had caught sight of Fred and George Weasley, their red hair and freckled cheeks standing out a mile in the room.
One of the two twins sits down right by Harry, his eyes checking the room around him with a smile. " Say, Harry! What's new with you?"
Then, the other twin sits down on Harry's other side, saying: "What's up with your glasses?"
" I broke them. They fell down." Harry said, partially telling the truth. " And, there's nothing new with me."
" Really? Are you just being modest? How's Hermione?" The twin on Harry's left says, his voice higher at mentioning the name of Harry's close friend.
" She's fine, Fred." Harry replied, a bit stiffly.
" I'm George. He's Fred." George said.
" Sorry. She's fine, George." Harry repeats.
" That's cool." George suddenly grins mischievously. "Say, Fred, did you happen to notice that little brat Malfoy today?"
" Who can't?" Fred laughed. " He's walking around with that babe on his hand."
" No, but not because of that. He's looking pretty beat up. And so is Harry. DO you see a connection?" George and Fred were talking right over Harry's head, as if Harry wasn't there.
" You guys, there IS NO connection." Harry grumbled.
" That's what they all say." Fred scratched the top of his lip, on which a small little mustache was growing, which Fred described as devilish, while George described it as 'stupid'.
" Did you hear about the dance?" Fred asked George.
" Sure I did." He replies.
" Did you, Harry?" Fred looks at Harry, one eyebrow raised to suggest a little bit more meaning to the question then he intends to speak of.
" Er. I didn't." Harry said.
" I wonder who we'd all go with." George said, teasingly.
" I don't know about you, but I'm definitely going with a babe this time. I'm not going to be like poor Eric Furbs last year, who'd turned a mop into a girl to pretend that he had a date, only to find his date turn into a mop again in the middle of the dance. Remember that?"
" Of course! I thought I'd get a hernia laughing." George beamed.
" I really just felt bad for him. That's all." Fred replied.
" Sure you did." George and Fred then stood up, leaving Harry a bit bewildered and alone with Nick again. The room was now filling up, and yet no sign of Hermione.
" There's a dance?" Harry asked Nick.
" Yeah. They announced it at dinner yesterday. Didn't you listen up?" Nick asked.
" I wasn't here." Harry told him.
" Oh! Right! Hermione had been looking for you since dinner yesterday but she couldn't find you anywhere. She gave up after asking me, Neville, and a few others about a hundred times." Nick smiled. " Maybe she wanted to ask you."
Harry felt his stomach churn. " Nah."
" Why are you so sure?" Nick squinted his eyes.
" I don't know. I just am."
" Well, okay." Nick looked down on his breakfast plate, still bare of food. " Do you want to hear the details about the dance, anyway?"
" Sure, what the heck." Harry said, actually dying to hear.
" Good! I was dying to tell someone something juicy and new. In this school, pretty much everyone knows everything." Nick sat back, crossing his arms. " The dance will be the greatest thing ever! You see, Dumbledore said that this dance will be something special. This time, no 'going as friends'. He wants the boys to be chivilarous and kind."
" I guess Malfoy can't go then." Harry smiled.
Nick laughed. " I guess not. Well, moving on! The girls need to be dressed at their best. Roses and candy sort of affair. Also, he wants no skirmishes, no quarreling, no enemies."
" No poison in Draco's cup, then?" Harry asked.
" Harry!" Hermione scolded from behind him. Harry turned around, seeing Hermione standing right there.
" So, how long have YOU been listening?" Harry's eyebrows raised just about a millimeter.
" Not too long." She sat down. "Harry, where were you? I've been looking for you forever!"
" I had a busy schedule."
" Oh." Hermione smoothened her robes out, even though they were perfectly wrinkle-less. " So. . . you've heard about the dance? What do you think of it?"
" It sounds fun." Harry suddenly fell silent for Professor McGonagall had stepped out to make an announcement. She said a spell to make her voice loud and easy to project over the room, then spoke:
" Attention!"
Hermione looked ready to say more to Harry, but she knew better then to talk during a speech by Professor McGonagall. So, naturally, Hermione grew silent as well.
" Now, there's already a buzz about the dance, students. I want to give some last touch-up details, since I can already hear bits of conversation about it." Professor McGonagall began.
Nick was unwrapping a chocolate frog underneath the table, and Harry gave him a light kick to shush him up, for Professor McGonagall was looking directly at them now.
" The dance will be on Saturday, which is in two days. I want to make some rules: the girls must wear heels and a nice dress. Boys must wear some sort of suit or at least their Sunday-best clothing. Do we have an understanding so far?"
The audience nodded, except for Malfoy's area of the Slytherin table, where a distinct "No" erupted.
Professor McGonagall's face reddened as she continued: "There will be, most certainly, not a single fight, quarrel, or anything that might even qualify as any sort of violent act. No crude remarks from the gentlemen about how the ladies look."
A few people looked at Draco knowingly.
" No eating candy or gum or anything of that sort, it looks most certainly unprofessional. You are all handsome young gentlemen and lovely young ladies, so I insist you act properly, as well." Professor McGonagall glanced at Dumbledore. "Am I forgetting anything?"
" Minerva, I'm afraid so." Dumbledore stood nearby her, so now his voice was also projected by the spell: " I will not tolerate anyone eating like a little piglet. There will be an appropriate amount of knives and forks and spoons provided for a comfortable meal. There should NOT be burping, sneezing without covering your mouth, or any other. . . bodily eruptions."
Nick giggled loudly, and once again Harry realized how annoying first- years could be with their potty humor.
" Alright, students, your meal will now be provided." Professor McGonagall told the students.
The white plates in the dining hall swelled with food. Harry looked at the breakfast meal before him but his stomach was doing too many flip- flops to eat anything large. Hermione tugged on Harry's shoulder:
" Harry! Dumbledore forgot to take off the spell! Listen to what they're saying!"
Harry turned and listened as Dumbledore said to Professor McGonagall whom were both standing up by the area the spell was cast on: " Did you hear? The Weasleys are back from the visit to Charlie."
" Already the twins caused trouble. Fred locked George in the Arithmacy classroom and Fred did a karate chop on the door to break out! Those boys are a menace." Professor McGonagall said, her voice low.
Harry turned to see Fred and George's reaction. They obviously hadn't gotten the insult fully, for Fred was complaining: "What? It was a kung-fu chop!"
Hermione's eyes followed Dumbledore as he walked out of the room, after telling Professor McGonagall that he had some papers to look through.
The room stared at Professor McGonagall in an accusing way. She gasped. " Oh, dear, the spell!"
Her hand brought up her wand and she swirled it through the air, making the spell go away. Then, she said, still loudly enough so Fred and George could hear even without the spell: " I'm sorry, boys. . . it just was a ridiculous thing to do!"
The twins just shrugged, not caring.
" Now, where do you suppose Ron is?" Hermione asked Harry. Harry suddenly felt guilty for he didn't even notice the absence of his own best friend. He immediately looked around the table to see if Ron by chance sat down farther away from them from lack of seating. But, to his surprise, there wasn't any Ron present at the table.
" Should I go look for him?" Harry was ready to stand up and get away.
" The food will be taken away soon." Hermione warned.
" I need to find him!" Harry told her.
" I suppose you would." She twirled her fork through the spaghetti she'd put on her plate. The thinned out red sauce flowed across her plate and she looked a bit disgusted. She looked up and saw Harry's face in profile. She gasped: " Your glasses!"
" Now you notice? My whole face." Harry sat back down, knowing she'd want to know what happened.
" What happened?" She asked.
" It's a long story. I really should find Ron." Harry didn't want to tell Hermione, out of all people, about how Draco beat him up.
" Ron's not going to die. He's probably still unpacking. You know how slow he is." Hermione didn't look ready to let Harry off the hook, so he began:
" Draco got mad at me. Really mad. So finally he just caught up with me and beat the stuffing out of me. It was a long, bitter row and he won. And he messed my glasses up."
" That's not a long story." She frowned. " You're embarrassed. Don't be." Hermione patted his hand. " It's not like it's something new, with enemies fighting each other."
" I lost!" Harry sighed.
" Here - let me fix your glasses up." She held her hand out and pulled his glasses off. Then, she took her wand out and said, under her breath, a quick little enchantment so that the glass that was missing was replaced with an equally good amount of glass.
" Thanks." Harry took the glasses back. " Can I go look for Ron now? It's pretty important, you know!"
" Alright. Go." She told him. Hermione then turned to her plate and took a big mouthful of the spaghetti.
Harry went out of the room and then hurried up the stairs and into the common room. Ron wasn't anywhere inside. He asked, aloud: " Ron?"
Nobody replied.
Harry looked around again. Ron's bed was extremely lumpy. He pulled the covers back, and there was Ron, his pajama bottoms on, but his sweater on over a white shirt was also on. He had obviously been so sleepy he conked out in the middle of dressing.
" Ron!" Harry shook the red-haired boy rather roughly.
" Harry?" Ron's eyes opened and settled on Harry. Obviously, waking up with someone's face a few inches from yours is a bit unsettling, so Ron screamed.
" Ron! Shut up! Get a hold of yourself!" Harry shook him again. Harry then let go of Ron just as the red-haired boy was coming to his senses after sleeping.
" What time is it?" He asked.
" Breakfast. Just the end of it." Harry told him.
" Breakfast? Already? Why didn't you wake me!" Ron jumped from his bed, pointing his finger accusingly at Harry.
" I did. You should drink ginseng tea, or something. Really." Harry leaned back on the wall. " You should hurry. Classes start in - oh, about. . ." Harry checked the clock on the wall. " Ten minutes."
" Ten?" Ron's voice came out a frightened squeak. " Quick! Grab my bag! Pack my things!"
Harry nodded and then ran to the corner of the room, unzipping Ron's little duffel carrying bag and then packing Ron's books into it, peeking at Ron's schedule. "Hey, Ron!"
Ron was in the side room, changing, so he called out loudly: "What?"
" We have similar classes. In fact, we share Potions together."
" Yay! Potions." Ron said, sarcastically. " If that doesn't cheer me up, having Snape's mean face staring at me, then I don't know what. . ."
" Snape's supposedly turned nice." Harry said. " He's just overjoyed with how he's the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, for at least until there's a replacement."
" I don't believe it." Ron burst out of the bathroom, his hair a wild mess. " Can I borrow a comb? It's not like it helps you much anyway."
" Sure." Harry pushed Ron's bag towards Ron and then handed his comb to the red-haired boy, as well.
" So, you've heard about the dance, right?" Ron asked.
" Yeah." Harry replied, as they walked out of the common room. " I don't think I'll ever work up the guts to ask Hermione if she wants to come with me."
" It's just a question. Come right up to her and go: So, I hear there's a dance, and I was wondering if you wanna go with me. Make it smooth." Ron smiled and added: " Girls dig that garbage. Be as romantic as you can be."
" Are you kidding me? I can't even talk to her as a friend without getting my stomach tied up in knots!" Harry began to jog down the hall. " Hurry it up. We gotta make it into Potions before Snape gets. . ."
" Gets what, boys?" Snape was right before them all of a sudden.
Harry looked up at the tall dark-haired man before him and gulped. " Gets angry." Harry finished.
" You're right. Get going." Snape stepped aside, and Ron and Harry exchanged 'How-weird' glances as they continued to jog down the hall.
Snape followed slowly behind them, for they were all heading for the same class, after all.
Hermione and Harry sat down together in the back of the room and Ron sat down in the empty seat before Harry, turning back to watch Snape walk into the room. Snape stopped at Neville's desk and said: " Neville, why don't you be my assistant today?"
" Me?" Neville's eyes widened.
" Yes, you." Snape continued going to the front of the class. "Take your time, but do hurry up."
Some people laughed, but everyone else was just a bit taken aback by Snape's light-hearted approach to Potions class. The class fell silent as Neville made his way up to the front of the room, his fingers crossed behind his back for good luck.
" Now, Neville, I know you're not used to being the one doing the exemplary performance before the class, but I assure you, this potion is so easy it'll practically make itself for you. Just follow my instructions." Snape told Neville, then turned to the class. "Take out something to write with and paper, and pay attention to the ingredients. I want to get some sort of exam on this by the end of the month, just on the various potions."
Hermione turned to Harry. " I forgot my quill. Do you have an extra one?"
" No." Harry replied.
" Ron!" Hermione whispered. " Do you have an extra quill?"
" Nope." Ron said.
" Oh, no!" Hermione turned red. " Snape will be really mad. He hates when students don't come prepared."
" Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" Snape asked from the front of the room. A faint dislike to Hermione is still present in his voice, though he is still seems to be in a very good mood.
" There is." Hermione said, after the brief silence in the room.
" How so?" Snape moved towards Hermione.
" I don't have a quill." She whispers, quietly. Her ears turn red and hot and Harry wishes that he did have a spare quill, for Hermione looked about as miserable now as Neville does when he makes a stupid blunder.
" No?" Snape looks surprised. " You're the last student I'd expect, being unprepared. I'd say that's more of a Neville thing to do."
A few eyes dart to Neville, who is desperately trying to clean off a thick black stain on his desk left behind from another class so that Snape doesn't think that Neville's spilling his ink again.
" I'm sorry." Hermione spoke.
A vein twitched in Snape's forehead twice, and he seemed to be growing angrier and angrier. His dislike to Hermione was now leaking out, practically bursting from him.
" You know that a student MUST come to class prepared." Snape's slow, spooky voice rang articulately through the classroom.
Hermione didn't reply.
" Answer me!" Snape banged his hand down on her desk. "Miss Granger, you've always been a bit of an annoyance."
Hermione's eyelids twitch, then she closes her eyes shut, hoping that her tears of fright don't squeeze out that way. Harry suddenly feels a need to help her.
" Professor?" Harry pipes up.
" What?" Snape turns to Harry, an even greater dislike dancing across the pale face, surrounded by a mass of greasy black hair.
" Hermione doesn't have her quill because of me. Don't be angry with her." Harry surprises his own self with the words that leak from his mouth, fueled by his hopes that Hermione doesn't, herself, get in trouble.
" How, precisely, would it be your fault, Mr. Potter?" Snape leans forward on the desk, his dark robes fluttering behind him. The hollow eyes belonging to the teacher trace angrily across the faces of the two students before him, then continues: " Why are you silent?"
" Hermione borrowed me her quill this morning. I wanted to write a letter. Then I misplaced it, and she is still angry with me." Harry nudges Hermione under the table.
Hermione's shock and confusion disappears as she catches on to what Harry's doing, and a little bit unwillingly, she said: "That's true. I'm at least surprised that Harry would admit to it."
She turned her face away from Snape's, knowing that her true emotions were clear in her eyes.
" Well, then, Mr. Potter, you'll be suspended from today's Quidditch match - Gryffindor versus Slytherin." Snape said, and Harry felt his heart stop momentarily.
" But. . ." Harry breathed out.
Snape just glared at Harry, one of those no-buts look.
" Heh. Looks like you're left with your 'but' hanging out, Harry." Draco called out from across the classroom.
Then, in the corner of the room, Goyle lets out a low laugh. Everyone else is pretty much too shocked to laugh.
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"Harry, the Quidditch game! Gryffindor will lose for sure without you - the Seeker AND captain." Ron shouts into Harry's ear above the raucous of Madame Hooch's class.
She turned her eyes to the two boys and shouted: " Harry! Ron! Class has started. I'd appreciate if you'd keep quiet while I show Miss Granger how to appropriately fly her broom."
The boys grew quiet and Harry was glad because he didn't want to hear about how stupid his action was. He just wanted to save Hermione from trouble, because she had a very nice reputation, being top student. Harry knew Snape was just mad and that the punishment was unfair, but once given, it had to be accepted.
At least Malfoy isn't in this class, Harry thought, because then he'll laugh at me the whole time.
Madame Hooch studies her students. Out of all the children, Harry Potter seemed the best player of Quidditch. So, after a moment of consideration, Madame Hooch called out: " Harry Potter, please come here and help Hermione."
Harry couldn't help but smile as he walked over to Hermione's broom. She had a Nimbus 2000, which was still fairly new and very good. Hermione had bought the broom for herself for no apparent reason over the summer.
" Class, listen to Harry's instructions." Madame Hooch suggests to her students, then a silence follows as Harry begins:
" You see how Hermione is holding the broom on the top, her hands like that? That's wrong, her left hand should be right here. . ." Harry took her hand and then moved her left hand down a few inches. Her elbow was now bent in a ninety-degree angle and he explained how this position made Hermione able to control her broom the best.
" Make a note of that in your heads, children. The control of the broom is more important then knowing how to simply fly it." Madame Hooch supports Harry's words.
As Harry speaks, he hears Hermione's whisper in his ear: "Thank you - but you shouldn't have." He knew what she meant - the whole deal with Snape.
" No, I think I should have." Harry replied, quietly.
" What was that?" Madame Hooch questioned.
" I said to her that. . . uh. . . she should have. As in, should have balanced her feet before trying to go up." Harry lied.
" Wise advise again." Madame Hooch beamed as Harry flew through the steps of preparing oneself. Then, he stepped away from Hermione as she slowly rose up into the air.
Hermione looked down and smiled happily. " I did it!"
Once class was over, Madame Hooch stopped Harry before he went back into the school building.
" Harry, I have a question for you."
" What is it?" Harry stopped, leaning on his Firebolt like an over- sized cane.
" Are you going to be here when Gryffindor plays Slytherin?" She looked serious.
" No." Harry replied.
" Why?" Madame Hooch's face darkened in disappointment.
" I stood up for my friends and got in trouble for them." Harry spoke without any trace of shame now. " And I'm glad I did. It's worth more to me to protect my friends. . ." Harry stopped, knowing which friend he meant most, then continued: " . . . then to win some stupid Quidditch game. At least I'm satisfied knowing my friends aren't punished unjustly when I could have stopped it."
" That's very beautiful, Harry, but you are Gryffindor's strongest player. There's no way that they can win with Slytherin now." Madame Hooch put her hand on his shoulder. " Don't you think you can work something out with your teachers?"
" Snape's the one punishing me." Harry told Madame Hooch. She immediately knew that there was no point in reasoning with Professor Snape.
" I hope your team's first game is a success, anyhow, Harry." Madame Hooch called after Harry. " Goodbye!"
" Bye! Thank you for the nice wishes." Harry replied.
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Harry's day had gone by rather quickly. Now it was dinnertime, and the Quidditch game was just an hour away. Harry's stomach grumbled with hunger, but he couldn't permit himself to go to eat, he was stuck staring out his window in the Gryffindor common room, his breath covering the mirror in thick white frosty clouds as he breathed angrily.
His team - for he was captain - was preparing, and here he was stuck upstairs, not even allowed to reason with this teammates.
" Stupid Snape." Harry whispered to the window. " Stupid, stupid, stupid."
His breath left long trails of white steam across the window, and he leaned his head back to look at the pattern he'd made. If not for the mark his nose made in the middle of the white cloudy mass, it just might have resembled an Oldsmobile.
" Are you still mad?" Neville asked timidly. He hadn't gone to dinner either, for he had developed the stomach flu from the Potion that Professor Snape made him concoct - it didn't quite come out right, after all.
" Mad? Why would I be mad?" Harry asked, letting out another violent breath. The Oldsmobile morphed into more of a heart-shape.
" I don't know. I'm asking you." Neville said.
" Why should I be mad? Because of the fact that my first game as captain isn't even allowed for my enjoyment? Because after a summer of boredom I've been looking forward to Quidditch, only to have it canceled?" Harry questioned.
" Are you mad, also, about Hermione?" Neville asked.
" Hermione?" Harry turned his head ever so slightly, trying to look nonchalant, but his voice came out a nervous squeak anyway. "Why would I be mad because of her?"
" She didn't ask you to the dance. It's coming up real soon." Neville reminded.
" Why do you think I want her to ask me to the dance?" Harry leaned back on his chair, balancing on the back legs of it. Outside, the Slytherin team was emerging, their uniforms vivid against the green grass. Fred and George Weasley glanced up at the window Harry was sitting at from down below, and Fred whispered something to his twin.
Then, the two waved to the window sympathetically.
Harry waved back, then listened just as Neville finished explaining his reasoning about why Harry wanted Hermione to ask him to the dance: " . . . Besides, you're so shy that you'd probably prefer having the girl ask. Plus, the only girl you're really close friends with is Hermione. So why not?"
" What if she says no? Not that I . . . want to ask her."
" There's only one way to find out. If you hold it in any longer, then the day will come where you will regret not telling her." Neville said.
" I guess." Harry's chair suddenly fell backward and he tumbled out head-over-toes and onto flat on his back in the middle of the room.
Neville shot up to help him up, then said, encouragingly: "Hey, at least this doesn't happen to you everyday, like to me."
" Thanks, Neville. I feel better." Harry told his friend. Neville nodded and then grasped his stomach.
" Oh! Excuse me!" Neville ran from the room, one hand clamped over his mouth, the other at his stomach, ready to gag in the bathroom.
Harry was left alone to his thoughts.
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The game had actually been a success, to Harry's surprise. The Gryffindor team managed to find a replacement Seeker for the game, and the new Seeker was hit in the back of the head with the Snitch and it fell into his pocket. The judge's panel stumped over whether it was to be counted or not, then finally decided to just give the points to Gryffindor.
Now Harry's feeling of disappointment and failure was receding now that the Gryffindor boys set up a little party in the common room. Fred and George had provided a cake, done in secret by Angelina, who was happy to provide the cake for the twins.
Once everyone in the common room had a slice of cake, Fred climbed up onto a table, balancing on the corner of it, and then announced: " Even without a captain and professional Seeker, we managed to win against Slytherin. I suggest we be good sports and. . ." He stomped his foot down. " . . . Wipe the truth into Malfoy's face!"
" Yeah!" George cheered his brother. Everyone else didn't seem to agree too well.
" Wouldn't that be a bit mean?" Neville asked.
" We don't want to stoop as low as Malfoy, rubbing vinegar into wounds and all." Harry spoke up.
" Come on, Harry, you know you want to get back on Malfoy! Let's play one of our famous pranks on him!" George cheered.
" No, I have a better idea. Let's publicly humiliate him at the dance." Fred told the now eager crowd of Gryffindor boys.
" Isn't it just like one of you to plot something like this?" Hermione's voice sliced through the air like the dry crackle of a thunder bolt in the desert. She moved towards them, holding her hand out to Harry. In her hand was a quill. " I'm returning your quill, as promised."
" What?" Harry squinted his eyes, not knowing what she meant.
Hermione winked and then motioned with her eyes at the quill. Harry saw that a thin slip of paper, a note perhaps, was twined around it.
" Oh! My quill." Harry smiled weakly. Was she going to ask him to the dance in the letter?
" Is that all?" Fred crossed his arms.
" Yes. Sorry to interrupt." Hermione sauntered out of the room of boys and then glanced sideways at Harry to see if they had an understanding - the note was obviously top-secret. Harry's stomach twisted with suspense as he sat through the rest of the party, his fingers fumbling around the quill, trying to get the note off.
Once the boys dispersed to go to sleep, Harry sat down by the window's bleak lighting and opened the note with trembling fingers. His hands smoothened it out and then he concentrated on her words:
Harry!
This is important so
pay attention. I got a letter,
a very mysterious one, by
owl today. I don't know who
sent it. Here's how it goes:
'Stay away from Potter unless
you want him to get hurt, too'. I
think that someone's gonna try
to hurt me and they want you
to keep away so that you don't get
hurt. Oh, please, promise me
you'll watch out.
Hermione
Harry stared at the note for a long time, bewildered. Why would anyone want to hurt Hermione? Unless, of course, Malfoy felt like it was the due time to give Harry another beating-up. Draco wouldn't have bothered to care about Hermione, though! This puzzled him most of all.
His hands trembled. How could he stay away from Hermione? It would be near impossible for him. Hermione didn't have a lot of female friends, and Harry did know that a lot of the girls were jelous of her because of how she got to spend so much time with Harry.
Harry never took those girls seriously. He preferred Hermione, with her wise words and her bookworm attitude then the flashy girls with makeup and boys on their minds.
His hands rolled the note up into a scroll-form again and he stuck it into his pocket. A sudden feeling brought a new fact to attention: he should go see Hermione, in case they might need to discuss some other things. After all, getting a note like that by owl wasn't exactly everyday happenings.
He looked around to see if anyone else was awake. Hearing the tossing and turning of Neville, Harry suspected that Neville was having another nightmare. Neville would fall asleep quick as lightning but then dream restlessly, and then wake up as if he never slept at all.
Fred was murmuring in his sleep: " You smelled my ravioli!" Of course, that was probably not what he said, but people who mumble through their sleep usually aren't understood quite well.
Harry dressed quickly in the darkest corner of the room, so that he would at least not be in his pajamas if anyone caught him in the hallway. The frosty night air nipped at his ears as he sneaked by the portrait of the fat lady. She grumbled about how it was completely inelegant to creep around in the night.
Harry then stopped. What if Hermione had gone to sleep as well? But Harry knew Hermione. If she was anywhere near her old self, she'd be in the library, studying in the dark about what the mysterious letter might have meant and researching codes to see if she could break the words into a new meaning.
Dark shadows loomed across the floor and the bleak light of the moon barely made any patches of light. Harry suddenly wished he'd taken the invisibility cloak, but it was under his bed and removing it would cause too much of a stir.
His eyes stopped at an open classroom door, and his curiosity took the best of him. He peeked inside but nobody was there, not a single soul.
With a shrug, Harry continued down the hallway. The stairs were now the next obstacle to tackle. He hoped that nobody would hear him as he slowly made his way down the winding staircase. Just as he was about to enter the library, the staircases changed behind him. How would he get back?
Harry didn't really care now. He had Hermione to see. His hand stretched out to open the library door. The cold hard wood chilled his fingertips and he drew his hand back. What if Hermione wasn't in the library? What if he stumbled upon the groundskeeper?
Too late to worry now, Harry assured himself in his thoughts. Then, he took a decisive step forwards and pushed the door open. The dim library astounded him with its roomy yet spooky interior. He'd been here before in the dark, and each time was like reliving the experience over again.
Harry's eyes scanned the tables for Hermione. Sure as anything, there she was, her hair illuminated in the moonlight. Harry crept closer, then whispered: "Herm?"
Her head jerked up. She had fallen asleep on the book she was reading. Her body spun around, her mouth open to scream. Harry remembered to whip his wand just in time and put a silencing spell on her.
Hermione stared at him, her mouth open in a silent shout, then she calmed down seeing that it wasn't anyone of the school authority, just Harry.
Harry took the silencing spell off and Hermione whispered: "How'd you know where to find me?"
" I'd known you long enough to complete your sentences. I can by know predict where you'll go next, too." Harry replied.
" So, what do you make of the letter?" She asked him.
" I don't know. I came here to see if you've figured any clues out. I was expecting to hear a round of suspects by know. Tsk, tsk, tsk. . ." He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth in a playful sign of scolding.
" I fell asleep." She justified herself.
" It would have been more safe to sleep in your bed, don't you think?" Harry smiled. " Or, did you all of a sudden find that books make the best pillows?"
" Seriously! I believe that a girl had to write this, because the handwriting's so neat." Hermione said. " Do you want to see the original?"
" Sure." Harry sat down beside her.
" Look." She placed the letter before her and then allowed Harry to examine the writing. It was indeed written in a bubbly, cheerful handwriting.
" Then again, it could have been forged for a girl's handwriting to throw us off. Either way, we have two threads already." She poked at the letter with her nail.
" Did you get in a fight with anyone lately, to have them write something like this to you?" Harry asked.
" Of course not! I have better things to do." She replied.
" Just asking." Harry looked down at the letter again. "What if its just a joke or prank? People do stupid things like this all the time, and they get a good few yaks from it. I wouldn't take it too seriously."
" In these days, everything should be taken seriously." She said.
" In my opinion, it's not a good time right now to work up little tales about a single note. I swear, I bet by now you must have at least made up a good few stories." Harry yawned and then stood up again. " I think you need a good rest. Tomorrow's a long day, you know."
" And Saturday I can relax." She told him.
" It's the ball on Saturday." Harry suddenly grew timid and he was glad it was dark for his face would be a luminous, glowing red by now.
" I know." She replied, a bit sadly. " I suppose I can go alone."
" Alone?" Harry bit his tongue. " Why don't you want to go with someone?"
" The question is, who'd want to go with me?" She replied, then suddenly shot up to her feet. " That's enough about that. You're right, time to go to sleep."
With that, Hermione walked away quickly. Harry followed her, trying to keep up. Finally, he fell behind and just took a random staircase, finding his way into his common room in the dark. Once in the appropriate surroundings, Harry dived onto his bed and squeezed his eyes shut to keep his mind from flooding with thoughts.
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*
The next morning, Harry awoke to find the common room nearly empty. Ron was even gone. He had either overslept or everyone else was extremely early.
Harry jumped up from his bed and then realized he was still wearing his clothes from when he went to the library in the night. He decided that they weren't too wrinkly, so as not to waste time, and then ran from the room.
He managed to find a seat at the end of the Gryffindor table among a group of jittery first-years just as the breakfast appeared on the table.
After eating a quick but nourishing meal, Harry gathered up his books to rush to Potions. His heart sank, realizing that he hadn't completed his homework.
Just as Harry walked through the hallways to find Potions, he stopped at a corner. Just around the corner he could hear Lavender's voice:
" Hermione, are you going to the dance with anyone?"
Harry's heart froze, hoping Hermione replied 'no.'
" No."
The reply came from Hermione and Harry was immediately relieved.
" I thought you'd go with Harry." Lavender said, her voice in a tone of question.
" Well, I'm not." Hermione replied.
Harry moved a bit farther away from the corner, not knowing if he should intrude on the conversation or if he should walk by and catch the last bits of it, or if he should go the other way and ignore it all together.
Being a boy of very curious mind, Harry remained frozen in place, listening intently:
" You know, you're right. I bet Harry wouldn't even want to go with you." Lavender sneered.
Hermione sounded close to tears as she replied: "Maybe he would."
" You'd like that, wouldn't you? Well, I'm certain he'll ask me, or Parvati, or Cho. He has so many better choices. I pity you." Lavender wasn't being very nice at all.
Harry wondered if jealous girls were always like that. He listened as Hermione replied:
" Maybe he will ask me."
Lavender replied:
" He wouldn't!"
Harry suddenly realized that this was a cue, a perfect line to walk in and announce something. So, working up all the courage he had left inside of him, he stepped out in front of Lavender and Hermione and said, clearly:
" Oh yeah? Wanna bet?"
Author's Note: Ooh Cliffhanger! =O)
This chapter took me a good two days to write, sorry if I kept anyone in anticipation. I hope you like it so far. I'm sorry for the mistakes.
1 Chapter 3
Midnight Maneuvers
It had begun to rain that night, and well into the next day as Harry got up to go to breakfast. As he passed Ron's bed, he gave his sleeve a tug, for Ron had a tendency to not hear the bell in the morning (the wake- up call).
Harry then went to dress into his uniform, which was lying on a chair beside his bed. Once he was wearing the right attire, he turned to tell Ron, who had by now managed to get his eyes open: "I'm going to go to breakfast now. Unless you want me to wait."
" No, you can go." Ron sat up with the energy of a sloth. "I'd probably hold you back. Not much of a morning person, you know."
" I can see that." Harry grasped a comb and ran it through his hair, then gave up when every single strand on his head slowly flowed back into its original position.
Once he had managed to get past the portrait of the fat lady (she was still drowsy from a long night, for Neville forgot the password and stayed by the fat lady until two in the morning, begging her to let him in).
The dining hall smelled wonderful of candles and incense. Behind him, Malfoy was entering, but he reacted differently: "Ew! Who died?"
" It's just candles. They make it smell very nice." A thick accent spoke back to Mafloy.
As much as Harry didn't want to look at Draco right now, he had to turn around to see what Rebecca Crick would be doing with Draco, out of all people. They were walking together, Draco looking about as pleased with himself as a person could possibly be.
Rebecca had a strange taste in boys, obviously, because Draco was not only the most unpleasant boy Harry could even think of, but at the same time two years younger then her, so at least three inches shorter (Draco was tall for his age, but not that tall). And now, with Rebecca wearing high heels, Draco was at least four inches below her, and looking more like a little brother then a boyfriend.
Harry quickly turned and walked to the Gryffindor table before Draco and Rebecca could see him. He was sure that Draco had told Rebecca the false story of why Harry was looking a bit beat up.
There were few people at the Gryffindor table yet, for they were all probably taking twice as long to get past the fat lady portrait. Nick Chang, Cho's cousin, was there, though. Nick sat down beside Harry right away, ready to start a long and rather semi-interesting conversation, most likely about Cho.
" Hey, Harry."
" Oh, hi, Nick." Harry acted as if never in his whole life he'd expect to find himself talking to Nick. This made Nick happy.
" You didn't think I'd be up so early, right?" Nick asked. " I mean, being first-year and all, you'd think I'd sleep like a log until Christmas Eve. Well, here I am!"
" Yeah." Harry said, not really knowing what he was saying 'yeah' for, but it seemed an appropriate comment at the time.
" Congratulations on being Gryffindor captain." Nick continued.
" I might have to resign." Harry said, sadly.
" Are you nuts? Why?" Nick seemed to lose half his respect for Harry all of a sudden.
" Voldemort - I mean, You-Know-Who - is out still, you know. I shouldn't make myself too out-in-the-open." Harry explained.
" It's not like you have a bull's eye painted on your back or something. It's only the greatest honor to be a captain of a Quidditch team!" Nick looked dreamy. " I'd love to be captain."
" Maybe you can be one. Just work your way up from second year." Harry told him.
" I can't."
" Why?"
" I'm one of those . . . butter-fingered kind of people. I can't catch a ball; it naturally just slips out of my hand. I'm surprised I can eat with a knife and fork, that's how clumsy I can be." Nick sighed. " I sure wish that it was possible, though."
" Being captain is about as easy as swallowing fire. I mean, the whole team really would rely on me to bring them to a win. I have to draw out the game plans and stuff. And they're so complicated. I remember Oliver Wood - the last captain of Gryffindor. Instead of saying 'cross the field', he'd draw a million tiny X's and arrows and dots and circles, and he'd mumble about something endlessly. And that's just crossing the field!" Harry suddenly had discouraged himself even more from being captain, so he stopped.
" Maybe Oliver had spasms in his arm or something. Couldn't draw a straight line so he took the long way." Nick laughed happily, being still at the age where things like potty-humor and stupid corny jokes were all the rage.
" Yeah, okay." Harry smiled and then looked around the room. He had caught sight of Fred and George Weasley, their red hair and freckled cheeks standing out a mile in the room.
One of the two twins sits down right by Harry, his eyes checking the room around him with a smile. " Say, Harry! What's new with you?"
Then, the other twin sits down on Harry's other side, saying: "What's up with your glasses?"
" I broke them. They fell down." Harry said, partially telling the truth. " And, there's nothing new with me."
" Really? Are you just being modest? How's Hermione?" The twin on Harry's left says, his voice higher at mentioning the name of Harry's close friend.
" She's fine, Fred." Harry replied, a bit stiffly.
" I'm George. He's Fred." George said.
" Sorry. She's fine, George." Harry repeats.
" That's cool." George suddenly grins mischievously. "Say, Fred, did you happen to notice that little brat Malfoy today?"
" Who can't?" Fred laughed. " He's walking around with that babe on his hand."
" No, but not because of that. He's looking pretty beat up. And so is Harry. DO you see a connection?" George and Fred were talking right over Harry's head, as if Harry wasn't there.
" You guys, there IS NO connection." Harry grumbled.
" That's what they all say." Fred scratched the top of his lip, on which a small little mustache was growing, which Fred described as devilish, while George described it as 'stupid'.
" Did you hear about the dance?" Fred asked George.
" Sure I did." He replies.
" Did you, Harry?" Fred looks at Harry, one eyebrow raised to suggest a little bit more meaning to the question then he intends to speak of.
" Er. I didn't." Harry said.
" I wonder who we'd all go with." George said, teasingly.
" I don't know about you, but I'm definitely going with a babe this time. I'm not going to be like poor Eric Furbs last year, who'd turned a mop into a girl to pretend that he had a date, only to find his date turn into a mop again in the middle of the dance. Remember that?"
" Of course! I thought I'd get a hernia laughing." George beamed.
" I really just felt bad for him. That's all." Fred replied.
" Sure you did." George and Fred then stood up, leaving Harry a bit bewildered and alone with Nick again. The room was now filling up, and yet no sign of Hermione.
" There's a dance?" Harry asked Nick.
" Yeah. They announced it at dinner yesterday. Didn't you listen up?" Nick asked.
" I wasn't here." Harry told him.
" Oh! Right! Hermione had been looking for you since dinner yesterday but she couldn't find you anywhere. She gave up after asking me, Neville, and a few others about a hundred times." Nick smiled. " Maybe she wanted to ask you."
Harry felt his stomach churn. " Nah."
" Why are you so sure?" Nick squinted his eyes.
" I don't know. I just am."
" Well, okay." Nick looked down on his breakfast plate, still bare of food. " Do you want to hear the details about the dance, anyway?"
" Sure, what the heck." Harry said, actually dying to hear.
" Good! I was dying to tell someone something juicy and new. In this school, pretty much everyone knows everything." Nick sat back, crossing his arms. " The dance will be the greatest thing ever! You see, Dumbledore said that this dance will be something special. This time, no 'going as friends'. He wants the boys to be chivilarous and kind."
" I guess Malfoy can't go then." Harry smiled.
Nick laughed. " I guess not. Well, moving on! The girls need to be dressed at their best. Roses and candy sort of affair. Also, he wants no skirmishes, no quarreling, no enemies."
" No poison in Draco's cup, then?" Harry asked.
" Harry!" Hermione scolded from behind him. Harry turned around, seeing Hermione standing right there.
" So, how long have YOU been listening?" Harry's eyebrows raised just about a millimeter.
" Not too long." She sat down. "Harry, where were you? I've been looking for you forever!"
" I had a busy schedule."
" Oh." Hermione smoothened her robes out, even though they were perfectly wrinkle-less. " So. . . you've heard about the dance? What do you think of it?"
" It sounds fun." Harry suddenly fell silent for Professor McGonagall had stepped out to make an announcement. She said a spell to make her voice loud and easy to project over the room, then spoke:
" Attention!"
Hermione looked ready to say more to Harry, but she knew better then to talk during a speech by Professor McGonagall. So, naturally, Hermione grew silent as well.
" Now, there's already a buzz about the dance, students. I want to give some last touch-up details, since I can already hear bits of conversation about it." Professor McGonagall began.
Nick was unwrapping a chocolate frog underneath the table, and Harry gave him a light kick to shush him up, for Professor McGonagall was looking directly at them now.
" The dance will be on Saturday, which is in two days. I want to make some rules: the girls must wear heels and a nice dress. Boys must wear some sort of suit or at least their Sunday-best clothing. Do we have an understanding so far?"
The audience nodded, except for Malfoy's area of the Slytherin table, where a distinct "No" erupted.
Professor McGonagall's face reddened as she continued: "There will be, most certainly, not a single fight, quarrel, or anything that might even qualify as any sort of violent act. No crude remarks from the gentlemen about how the ladies look."
A few people looked at Draco knowingly.
" No eating candy or gum or anything of that sort, it looks most certainly unprofessional. You are all handsome young gentlemen and lovely young ladies, so I insist you act properly, as well." Professor McGonagall glanced at Dumbledore. "Am I forgetting anything?"
" Minerva, I'm afraid so." Dumbledore stood nearby her, so now his voice was also projected by the spell: " I will not tolerate anyone eating like a little piglet. There will be an appropriate amount of knives and forks and spoons provided for a comfortable meal. There should NOT be burping, sneezing without covering your mouth, or any other. . . bodily eruptions."
Nick giggled loudly, and once again Harry realized how annoying first- years could be with their potty humor.
" Alright, students, your meal will now be provided." Professor McGonagall told the students.
The white plates in the dining hall swelled with food. Harry looked at the breakfast meal before him but his stomach was doing too many flip- flops to eat anything large. Hermione tugged on Harry's shoulder:
" Harry! Dumbledore forgot to take off the spell! Listen to what they're saying!"
Harry turned and listened as Dumbledore said to Professor McGonagall whom were both standing up by the area the spell was cast on: " Did you hear? The Weasleys are back from the visit to Charlie."
" Already the twins caused trouble. Fred locked George in the Arithmacy classroom and Fred did a karate chop on the door to break out! Those boys are a menace." Professor McGonagall said, her voice low.
Harry turned to see Fred and George's reaction. They obviously hadn't gotten the insult fully, for Fred was complaining: "What? It was a kung-fu chop!"
Hermione's eyes followed Dumbledore as he walked out of the room, after telling Professor McGonagall that he had some papers to look through.
The room stared at Professor McGonagall in an accusing way. She gasped. " Oh, dear, the spell!"
Her hand brought up her wand and she swirled it through the air, making the spell go away. Then, she said, still loudly enough so Fred and George could hear even without the spell: " I'm sorry, boys. . . it just was a ridiculous thing to do!"
The twins just shrugged, not caring.
" Now, where do you suppose Ron is?" Hermione asked Harry. Harry suddenly felt guilty for he didn't even notice the absence of his own best friend. He immediately looked around the table to see if Ron by chance sat down farther away from them from lack of seating. But, to his surprise, there wasn't any Ron present at the table.
" Should I go look for him?" Harry was ready to stand up and get away.
" The food will be taken away soon." Hermione warned.
" I need to find him!" Harry told her.
" I suppose you would." She twirled her fork through the spaghetti she'd put on her plate. The thinned out red sauce flowed across her plate and she looked a bit disgusted. She looked up and saw Harry's face in profile. She gasped: " Your glasses!"
" Now you notice? My whole face." Harry sat back down, knowing she'd want to know what happened.
" What happened?" She asked.
" It's a long story. I really should find Ron." Harry didn't want to tell Hermione, out of all people, about how Draco beat him up.
" Ron's not going to die. He's probably still unpacking. You know how slow he is." Hermione didn't look ready to let Harry off the hook, so he began:
" Draco got mad at me. Really mad. So finally he just caught up with me and beat the stuffing out of me. It was a long, bitter row and he won. And he messed my glasses up."
" That's not a long story." She frowned. " You're embarrassed. Don't be." Hermione patted his hand. " It's not like it's something new, with enemies fighting each other."
" I lost!" Harry sighed.
" Here - let me fix your glasses up." She held her hand out and pulled his glasses off. Then, she took her wand out and said, under her breath, a quick little enchantment so that the glass that was missing was replaced with an equally good amount of glass.
" Thanks." Harry took the glasses back. " Can I go look for Ron now? It's pretty important, you know!"
" Alright. Go." She told him. Hermione then turned to her plate and took a big mouthful of the spaghetti.
Harry went out of the room and then hurried up the stairs and into the common room. Ron wasn't anywhere inside. He asked, aloud: " Ron?"
Nobody replied.
Harry looked around again. Ron's bed was extremely lumpy. He pulled the covers back, and there was Ron, his pajama bottoms on, but his sweater on over a white shirt was also on. He had obviously been so sleepy he conked out in the middle of dressing.
" Ron!" Harry shook the red-haired boy rather roughly.
" Harry?" Ron's eyes opened and settled on Harry. Obviously, waking up with someone's face a few inches from yours is a bit unsettling, so Ron screamed.
" Ron! Shut up! Get a hold of yourself!" Harry shook him again. Harry then let go of Ron just as the red-haired boy was coming to his senses after sleeping.
" What time is it?" He asked.
" Breakfast. Just the end of it." Harry told him.
" Breakfast? Already? Why didn't you wake me!" Ron jumped from his bed, pointing his finger accusingly at Harry.
" I did. You should drink ginseng tea, or something. Really." Harry leaned back on the wall. " You should hurry. Classes start in - oh, about. . ." Harry checked the clock on the wall. " Ten minutes."
" Ten?" Ron's voice came out a frightened squeak. " Quick! Grab my bag! Pack my things!"
Harry nodded and then ran to the corner of the room, unzipping Ron's little duffel carrying bag and then packing Ron's books into it, peeking at Ron's schedule. "Hey, Ron!"
Ron was in the side room, changing, so he called out loudly: "What?"
" We have similar classes. In fact, we share Potions together."
" Yay! Potions." Ron said, sarcastically. " If that doesn't cheer me up, having Snape's mean face staring at me, then I don't know what. . ."
" Snape's supposedly turned nice." Harry said. " He's just overjoyed with how he's the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, for at least until there's a replacement."
" I don't believe it." Ron burst out of the bathroom, his hair a wild mess. " Can I borrow a comb? It's not like it helps you much anyway."
" Sure." Harry pushed Ron's bag towards Ron and then handed his comb to the red-haired boy, as well.
" So, you've heard about the dance, right?" Ron asked.
" Yeah." Harry replied, as they walked out of the common room. " I don't think I'll ever work up the guts to ask Hermione if she wants to come with me."
" It's just a question. Come right up to her and go: So, I hear there's a dance, and I was wondering if you wanna go with me. Make it smooth." Ron smiled and added: " Girls dig that garbage. Be as romantic as you can be."
" Are you kidding me? I can't even talk to her as a friend without getting my stomach tied up in knots!" Harry began to jog down the hall. " Hurry it up. We gotta make it into Potions before Snape gets. . ."
" Gets what, boys?" Snape was right before them all of a sudden.
Harry looked up at the tall dark-haired man before him and gulped. " Gets angry." Harry finished.
" You're right. Get going." Snape stepped aside, and Ron and Harry exchanged 'How-weird' glances as they continued to jog down the hall.
Snape followed slowly behind them, for they were all heading for the same class, after all.
Hermione and Harry sat down together in the back of the room and Ron sat down in the empty seat before Harry, turning back to watch Snape walk into the room. Snape stopped at Neville's desk and said: " Neville, why don't you be my assistant today?"
" Me?" Neville's eyes widened.
" Yes, you." Snape continued going to the front of the class. "Take your time, but do hurry up."
Some people laughed, but everyone else was just a bit taken aback by Snape's light-hearted approach to Potions class. The class fell silent as Neville made his way up to the front of the room, his fingers crossed behind his back for good luck.
" Now, Neville, I know you're not used to being the one doing the exemplary performance before the class, but I assure you, this potion is so easy it'll practically make itself for you. Just follow my instructions." Snape told Neville, then turned to the class. "Take out something to write with and paper, and pay attention to the ingredients. I want to get some sort of exam on this by the end of the month, just on the various potions."
Hermione turned to Harry. " I forgot my quill. Do you have an extra one?"
" No." Harry replied.
" Ron!" Hermione whispered. " Do you have an extra quill?"
" Nope." Ron said.
" Oh, no!" Hermione turned red. " Snape will be really mad. He hates when students don't come prepared."
" Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" Snape asked from the front of the room. A faint dislike to Hermione is still present in his voice, though he is still seems to be in a very good mood.
" There is." Hermione said, after the brief silence in the room.
" How so?" Snape moved towards Hermione.
" I don't have a quill." She whispers, quietly. Her ears turn red and hot and Harry wishes that he did have a spare quill, for Hermione looked about as miserable now as Neville does when he makes a stupid blunder.
" No?" Snape looks surprised. " You're the last student I'd expect, being unprepared. I'd say that's more of a Neville thing to do."
A few eyes dart to Neville, who is desperately trying to clean off a thick black stain on his desk left behind from another class so that Snape doesn't think that Neville's spilling his ink again.
" I'm sorry." Hermione spoke.
A vein twitched in Snape's forehead twice, and he seemed to be growing angrier and angrier. His dislike to Hermione was now leaking out, practically bursting from him.
" You know that a student MUST come to class prepared." Snape's slow, spooky voice rang articulately through the classroom.
Hermione didn't reply.
" Answer me!" Snape banged his hand down on her desk. "Miss Granger, you've always been a bit of an annoyance."
Hermione's eyelids twitch, then she closes her eyes shut, hoping that her tears of fright don't squeeze out that way. Harry suddenly feels a need to help her.
" Professor?" Harry pipes up.
" What?" Snape turns to Harry, an even greater dislike dancing across the pale face, surrounded by a mass of greasy black hair.
" Hermione doesn't have her quill because of me. Don't be angry with her." Harry surprises his own self with the words that leak from his mouth, fueled by his hopes that Hermione doesn't, herself, get in trouble.
" How, precisely, would it be your fault, Mr. Potter?" Snape leans forward on the desk, his dark robes fluttering behind him. The hollow eyes belonging to the teacher trace angrily across the faces of the two students before him, then continues: " Why are you silent?"
" Hermione borrowed me her quill this morning. I wanted to write a letter. Then I misplaced it, and she is still angry with me." Harry nudges Hermione under the table.
Hermione's shock and confusion disappears as she catches on to what Harry's doing, and a little bit unwillingly, she said: "That's true. I'm at least surprised that Harry would admit to it."
She turned her face away from Snape's, knowing that her true emotions were clear in her eyes.
" Well, then, Mr. Potter, you'll be suspended from today's Quidditch match - Gryffindor versus Slytherin." Snape said, and Harry felt his heart stop momentarily.
" But. . ." Harry breathed out.
Snape just glared at Harry, one of those no-buts look.
" Heh. Looks like you're left with your 'but' hanging out, Harry." Draco called out from across the classroom.
Then, in the corner of the room, Goyle lets out a low laugh. Everyone else is pretty much too shocked to laugh.
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*
"Harry, the Quidditch game! Gryffindor will lose for sure without you - the Seeker AND captain." Ron shouts into Harry's ear above the raucous of Madame Hooch's class.
She turned her eyes to the two boys and shouted: " Harry! Ron! Class has started. I'd appreciate if you'd keep quiet while I show Miss Granger how to appropriately fly her broom."
The boys grew quiet and Harry was glad because he didn't want to hear about how stupid his action was. He just wanted to save Hermione from trouble, because she had a very nice reputation, being top student. Harry knew Snape was just mad and that the punishment was unfair, but once given, it had to be accepted.
At least Malfoy isn't in this class, Harry thought, because then he'll laugh at me the whole time.
Madame Hooch studies her students. Out of all the children, Harry Potter seemed the best player of Quidditch. So, after a moment of consideration, Madame Hooch called out: " Harry Potter, please come here and help Hermione."
Harry couldn't help but smile as he walked over to Hermione's broom. She had a Nimbus 2000, which was still fairly new and very good. Hermione had bought the broom for herself for no apparent reason over the summer.
" Class, listen to Harry's instructions." Madame Hooch suggests to her students, then a silence follows as Harry begins:
" You see how Hermione is holding the broom on the top, her hands like that? That's wrong, her left hand should be right here. . ." Harry took her hand and then moved her left hand down a few inches. Her elbow was now bent in a ninety-degree angle and he explained how this position made Hermione able to control her broom the best.
" Make a note of that in your heads, children. The control of the broom is more important then knowing how to simply fly it." Madame Hooch supports Harry's words.
As Harry speaks, he hears Hermione's whisper in his ear: "Thank you - but you shouldn't have." He knew what she meant - the whole deal with Snape.
" No, I think I should have." Harry replied, quietly.
" What was that?" Madame Hooch questioned.
" I said to her that. . . uh. . . she should have. As in, should have balanced her feet before trying to go up." Harry lied.
" Wise advise again." Madame Hooch beamed as Harry flew through the steps of preparing oneself. Then, he stepped away from Hermione as she slowly rose up into the air.
Hermione looked down and smiled happily. " I did it!"
Once class was over, Madame Hooch stopped Harry before he went back into the school building.
" Harry, I have a question for you."
" What is it?" Harry stopped, leaning on his Firebolt like an over- sized cane.
" Are you going to be here when Gryffindor plays Slytherin?" She looked serious.
" No." Harry replied.
" Why?" Madame Hooch's face darkened in disappointment.
" I stood up for my friends and got in trouble for them." Harry spoke without any trace of shame now. " And I'm glad I did. It's worth more to me to protect my friends. . ." Harry stopped, knowing which friend he meant most, then continued: " . . . then to win some stupid Quidditch game. At least I'm satisfied knowing my friends aren't punished unjustly when I could have stopped it."
" That's very beautiful, Harry, but you are Gryffindor's strongest player. There's no way that they can win with Slytherin now." Madame Hooch put her hand on his shoulder. " Don't you think you can work something out with your teachers?"
" Snape's the one punishing me." Harry told Madame Hooch. She immediately knew that there was no point in reasoning with Professor Snape.
" I hope your team's first game is a success, anyhow, Harry." Madame Hooch called after Harry. " Goodbye!"
" Bye! Thank you for the nice wishes." Harry replied.
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Harry's day had gone by rather quickly. Now it was dinnertime, and the Quidditch game was just an hour away. Harry's stomach grumbled with hunger, but he couldn't permit himself to go to eat, he was stuck staring out his window in the Gryffindor common room, his breath covering the mirror in thick white frosty clouds as he breathed angrily.
His team - for he was captain - was preparing, and here he was stuck upstairs, not even allowed to reason with this teammates.
" Stupid Snape." Harry whispered to the window. " Stupid, stupid, stupid."
His breath left long trails of white steam across the window, and he leaned his head back to look at the pattern he'd made. If not for the mark his nose made in the middle of the white cloudy mass, it just might have resembled an Oldsmobile.
" Are you still mad?" Neville asked timidly. He hadn't gone to dinner either, for he had developed the stomach flu from the Potion that Professor Snape made him concoct - it didn't quite come out right, after all.
" Mad? Why would I be mad?" Harry asked, letting out another violent breath. The Oldsmobile morphed into more of a heart-shape.
" I don't know. I'm asking you." Neville said.
" Why should I be mad? Because of the fact that my first game as captain isn't even allowed for my enjoyment? Because after a summer of boredom I've been looking forward to Quidditch, only to have it canceled?" Harry questioned.
" Are you mad, also, about Hermione?" Neville asked.
" Hermione?" Harry turned his head ever so slightly, trying to look nonchalant, but his voice came out a nervous squeak anyway. "Why would I be mad because of her?"
" She didn't ask you to the dance. It's coming up real soon." Neville reminded.
" Why do you think I want her to ask me to the dance?" Harry leaned back on his chair, balancing on the back legs of it. Outside, the Slytherin team was emerging, their uniforms vivid against the green grass. Fred and George Weasley glanced up at the window Harry was sitting at from down below, and Fred whispered something to his twin.
Then, the two waved to the window sympathetically.
Harry waved back, then listened just as Neville finished explaining his reasoning about why Harry wanted Hermione to ask him to the dance: " . . . Besides, you're so shy that you'd probably prefer having the girl ask. Plus, the only girl you're really close friends with is Hermione. So why not?"
" What if she says no? Not that I . . . want to ask her."
" There's only one way to find out. If you hold it in any longer, then the day will come where you will regret not telling her." Neville said.
" I guess." Harry's chair suddenly fell backward and he tumbled out head-over-toes and onto flat on his back in the middle of the room.
Neville shot up to help him up, then said, encouragingly: "Hey, at least this doesn't happen to you everyday, like to me."
" Thanks, Neville. I feel better." Harry told his friend. Neville nodded and then grasped his stomach.
" Oh! Excuse me!" Neville ran from the room, one hand clamped over his mouth, the other at his stomach, ready to gag in the bathroom.
Harry was left alone to his thoughts.
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The game had actually been a success, to Harry's surprise. The Gryffindor team managed to find a replacement Seeker for the game, and the new Seeker was hit in the back of the head with the Snitch and it fell into his pocket. The judge's panel stumped over whether it was to be counted or not, then finally decided to just give the points to Gryffindor.
Now Harry's feeling of disappointment and failure was receding now that the Gryffindor boys set up a little party in the common room. Fred and George had provided a cake, done in secret by Angelina, who was happy to provide the cake for the twins.
Once everyone in the common room had a slice of cake, Fred climbed up onto a table, balancing on the corner of it, and then announced: " Even without a captain and professional Seeker, we managed to win against Slytherin. I suggest we be good sports and. . ." He stomped his foot down. " . . . Wipe the truth into Malfoy's face!"
" Yeah!" George cheered his brother. Everyone else didn't seem to agree too well.
" Wouldn't that be a bit mean?" Neville asked.
" We don't want to stoop as low as Malfoy, rubbing vinegar into wounds and all." Harry spoke up.
" Come on, Harry, you know you want to get back on Malfoy! Let's play one of our famous pranks on him!" George cheered.
" No, I have a better idea. Let's publicly humiliate him at the dance." Fred told the now eager crowd of Gryffindor boys.
" Isn't it just like one of you to plot something like this?" Hermione's voice sliced through the air like the dry crackle of a thunder bolt in the desert. She moved towards them, holding her hand out to Harry. In her hand was a quill. " I'm returning your quill, as promised."
" What?" Harry squinted his eyes, not knowing what she meant.
Hermione winked and then motioned with her eyes at the quill. Harry saw that a thin slip of paper, a note perhaps, was twined around it.
" Oh! My quill." Harry smiled weakly. Was she going to ask him to the dance in the letter?
" Is that all?" Fred crossed his arms.
" Yes. Sorry to interrupt." Hermione sauntered out of the room of boys and then glanced sideways at Harry to see if they had an understanding - the note was obviously top-secret. Harry's stomach twisted with suspense as he sat through the rest of the party, his fingers fumbling around the quill, trying to get the note off.
Once the boys dispersed to go to sleep, Harry sat down by the window's bleak lighting and opened the note with trembling fingers. His hands smoothened it out and then he concentrated on her words:
Harry!
This is important so
pay attention. I got a letter,
a very mysterious one, by
owl today. I don't know who
sent it. Here's how it goes:
'Stay away from Potter unless
you want him to get hurt, too'. I
think that someone's gonna try
to hurt me and they want you
to keep away so that you don't get
hurt. Oh, please, promise me
you'll watch out.
Hermione
Harry stared at the note for a long time, bewildered. Why would anyone want to hurt Hermione? Unless, of course, Malfoy felt like it was the due time to give Harry another beating-up. Draco wouldn't have bothered to care about Hermione, though! This puzzled him most of all.
His hands trembled. How could he stay away from Hermione? It would be near impossible for him. Hermione didn't have a lot of female friends, and Harry did know that a lot of the girls were jelous of her because of how she got to spend so much time with Harry.
Harry never took those girls seriously. He preferred Hermione, with her wise words and her bookworm attitude then the flashy girls with makeup and boys on their minds.
His hands rolled the note up into a scroll-form again and he stuck it into his pocket. A sudden feeling brought a new fact to attention: he should go see Hermione, in case they might need to discuss some other things. After all, getting a note like that by owl wasn't exactly everyday happenings.
He looked around to see if anyone else was awake. Hearing the tossing and turning of Neville, Harry suspected that Neville was having another nightmare. Neville would fall asleep quick as lightning but then dream restlessly, and then wake up as if he never slept at all.
Fred was murmuring in his sleep: " You smelled my ravioli!" Of course, that was probably not what he said, but people who mumble through their sleep usually aren't understood quite well.
Harry dressed quickly in the darkest corner of the room, so that he would at least not be in his pajamas if anyone caught him in the hallway. The frosty night air nipped at his ears as he sneaked by the portrait of the fat lady. She grumbled about how it was completely inelegant to creep around in the night.
Harry then stopped. What if Hermione had gone to sleep as well? But Harry knew Hermione. If she was anywhere near her old self, she'd be in the library, studying in the dark about what the mysterious letter might have meant and researching codes to see if she could break the words into a new meaning.
Dark shadows loomed across the floor and the bleak light of the moon barely made any patches of light. Harry suddenly wished he'd taken the invisibility cloak, but it was under his bed and removing it would cause too much of a stir.
His eyes stopped at an open classroom door, and his curiosity took the best of him. He peeked inside but nobody was there, not a single soul.
With a shrug, Harry continued down the hallway. The stairs were now the next obstacle to tackle. He hoped that nobody would hear him as he slowly made his way down the winding staircase. Just as he was about to enter the library, the staircases changed behind him. How would he get back?
Harry didn't really care now. He had Hermione to see. His hand stretched out to open the library door. The cold hard wood chilled his fingertips and he drew his hand back. What if Hermione wasn't in the library? What if he stumbled upon the groundskeeper?
Too late to worry now, Harry assured himself in his thoughts. Then, he took a decisive step forwards and pushed the door open. The dim library astounded him with its roomy yet spooky interior. He'd been here before in the dark, and each time was like reliving the experience over again.
Harry's eyes scanned the tables for Hermione. Sure as anything, there she was, her hair illuminated in the moonlight. Harry crept closer, then whispered: "Herm?"
Her head jerked up. She had fallen asleep on the book she was reading. Her body spun around, her mouth open to scream. Harry remembered to whip his wand just in time and put a silencing spell on her.
Hermione stared at him, her mouth open in a silent shout, then she calmed down seeing that it wasn't anyone of the school authority, just Harry.
Harry took the silencing spell off and Hermione whispered: "How'd you know where to find me?"
" I'd known you long enough to complete your sentences. I can by know predict where you'll go next, too." Harry replied.
" So, what do you make of the letter?" She asked him.
" I don't know. I came here to see if you've figured any clues out. I was expecting to hear a round of suspects by know. Tsk, tsk, tsk. . ." He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth in a playful sign of scolding.
" I fell asleep." She justified herself.
" It would have been more safe to sleep in your bed, don't you think?" Harry smiled. " Or, did you all of a sudden find that books make the best pillows?"
" Seriously! I believe that a girl had to write this, because the handwriting's so neat." Hermione said. " Do you want to see the original?"
" Sure." Harry sat down beside her.
" Look." She placed the letter before her and then allowed Harry to examine the writing. It was indeed written in a bubbly, cheerful handwriting.
" Then again, it could have been forged for a girl's handwriting to throw us off. Either way, we have two threads already." She poked at the letter with her nail.
" Did you get in a fight with anyone lately, to have them write something like this to you?" Harry asked.
" Of course not! I have better things to do." She replied.
" Just asking." Harry looked down at the letter again. "What if its just a joke or prank? People do stupid things like this all the time, and they get a good few yaks from it. I wouldn't take it too seriously."
" In these days, everything should be taken seriously." She said.
" In my opinion, it's not a good time right now to work up little tales about a single note. I swear, I bet by now you must have at least made up a good few stories." Harry yawned and then stood up again. " I think you need a good rest. Tomorrow's a long day, you know."
" And Saturday I can relax." She told him.
" It's the ball on Saturday." Harry suddenly grew timid and he was glad it was dark for his face would be a luminous, glowing red by now.
" I know." She replied, a bit sadly. " I suppose I can go alone."
" Alone?" Harry bit his tongue. " Why don't you want to go with someone?"
" The question is, who'd want to go with me?" She replied, then suddenly shot up to her feet. " That's enough about that. You're right, time to go to sleep."
With that, Hermione walked away quickly. Harry followed her, trying to keep up. Finally, he fell behind and just took a random staircase, finding his way into his common room in the dark. Once in the appropriate surroundings, Harry dived onto his bed and squeezed his eyes shut to keep his mind from flooding with thoughts.
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The next morning, Harry awoke to find the common room nearly empty. Ron was even gone. He had either overslept or everyone else was extremely early.
Harry jumped up from his bed and then realized he was still wearing his clothes from when he went to the library in the night. He decided that they weren't too wrinkly, so as not to waste time, and then ran from the room.
He managed to find a seat at the end of the Gryffindor table among a group of jittery first-years just as the breakfast appeared on the table.
After eating a quick but nourishing meal, Harry gathered up his books to rush to Potions. His heart sank, realizing that he hadn't completed his homework.
Just as Harry walked through the hallways to find Potions, he stopped at a corner. Just around the corner he could hear Lavender's voice:
" Hermione, are you going to the dance with anyone?"
Harry's heart froze, hoping Hermione replied 'no.'
" No."
The reply came from Hermione and Harry was immediately relieved.
" I thought you'd go with Harry." Lavender said, her voice in a tone of question.
" Well, I'm not." Hermione replied.
Harry moved a bit farther away from the corner, not knowing if he should intrude on the conversation or if he should walk by and catch the last bits of it, or if he should go the other way and ignore it all together.
Being a boy of very curious mind, Harry remained frozen in place, listening intently:
" You know, you're right. I bet Harry wouldn't even want to go with you." Lavender sneered.
Hermione sounded close to tears as she replied: "Maybe he would."
" You'd like that, wouldn't you? Well, I'm certain he'll ask me, or Parvati, or Cho. He has so many better choices. I pity you." Lavender wasn't being very nice at all.
Harry wondered if jealous girls were always like that. He listened as Hermione replied:
" Maybe he will ask me."
Lavender replied:
" He wouldn't!"
Harry suddenly realized that this was a cue, a perfect line to walk in and announce something. So, working up all the courage he had left inside of him, he stepped out in front of Lavender and Hermione and said, clearly:
" Oh yeah? Wanna bet?"
Author's Note: Ooh Cliffhanger! =O)
This chapter took me a good two days to write, sorry if I kept anyone in anticipation. I hope you like it so far. I'm sorry for the mistakes.
