Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series and all related products is the copyright of J. K. Rowling, Warner Bros., and various companies I don't know about. This fanfic is intended for entertainment purposes and is not for profit. No copyright violation was intended. The storyline and any original characters that show up in this fanfic is the property of Mang Guo. Please do not post or reproduce this fanfic in any form without my consent.
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Chapter Three: The Predicting Portrait
Oliver had been thinking that the whole thing -- from the owl that had dropped the Hogwarts letter on his head to the magical trip down Diagon Alley -- was a hoax. Even as he'd made his way through the invisible barrier at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, he'd wondered if he was the butt of some sick joke; that maybe, someone really wanted to hit home the freakiness of being able to levitate objects -- rubbing salt in the wounds, so to speak. But then, he'd found himself on the Hogwarts Express, with two other students dressed similarly in billowing cloaks sitting in his compartment. After introducing themselves, they had started a conversation with him, and when the wands were pulled out, Oliver knew that it was all very, very real.
At the moment, he was listening to Rhys Von, a burly boy with a shocking amount of short, tight curls nested on top of a rather square head. "You see," Rhys was saying, carelessly twirling his wand along his fingers. "What you need to know is that kids like us are sent to Hogwarts to, ah, establish connections. Of course, you'll come across others who claim otherwise -- you know, the ones who think school's actually for learning -- but trust me, even they have their own agendas."
Oliver raised an eyebrow sceptically. "I don't know, Rhys. That sounds pretty far-fetched to me. You make Hogwarts sound like the training grounds for undercover agents or something."
Rhys's eyes lit up brightly. "But that's exactly it! Well, close enough anyway. Except that instead of undercover agents, it's more like underage businessmen."
"Whatever," Oliver scoffed. "I think you've failed first year far too many times -- was it twice, you said? -- and you've got things mixed up. Besides, my father wouldn't send me to a place for -- what did you call it? Underage businessmen?"
Rhys opened his mouth to give an angry retort, but Gareth Codaye, the boy on his right, gave him a sharp nudge. "Oh, shut up Rhys! You're doing a horrible job of explaining things." Turning back to Oliver, the shaggy-haired blond smiled roguishly. "Tell me, Oliver, didn't you say you went to Muggle schools for years and years before you found out you were a wizard?"
Oliver nodded slowly, "But what does that have to do with --"
"It has everything to do with Hogwarts!" Gareth interrupted. Rummaging around in his bags, he pulled out a small vial of white, cloudy liquid. Unplugging the container, he held it out to Oliver. "Here, take a sip."
Oliver reached for the vial, but made no move to drink it. Instead, he sniffed at the liquid, asking suspiciously, "What is it?"
The other two boys grinned at each other, and Rhys replied, "Gareth likes to call it Edenic Visions, but really, that's just a fancy name for a booster, a pick-me-upper, so to speak. Take a sip," he urged. "It'll make you feel a lot better, trust me. And you did say that you were nervous about Hogwarts, didn't you?"
Oliver hesitated, and very nearly turned the mysterious drink down, when he saw that the other two boys had each pulled out a similar phial of hazy liquid from their bags. Gareth raised his eyebrows at Oliver, as if to egg him on, and then downed the whole vial in one swig. Rhys followed suit. When nothing disastrous seemed to happen, Oliver shrugged. Well, he thought, might as well give it a shot. And then he, too, knocked back the contents of the container with a toss of his head, unconsciously imitating Rhys and Gareth.
At first, nothing happened. He didn't feel anything different, didn't feel any better or any less nervous, and was about to say so. However, just as he prepared to lash out at the other two boys for tricking him, the inside of the compartment seemed to tilt, and suddenly, the world changed on him.
Years later, when Oliver tried to recall what happened that day, the day he'd taken his first dose of Edenic Visions, he felt a pang of regret. It had been his first day at Hogwarts, his first day in his new life, and all he could remember were drug-induced visions of curvaceous figures and cackling hags.
But at the time, he didn't mind.
All he cared about was how great he felt. The train's rocking motion seemed to intensify, and Oliver found himself swaying lethargically to its rhythm. The landscape soaring past the window blurred into brilliant hues of blues, greens, and blinding whites. And, he found that he wasn't nervous about Hogwarts anymore. In fact, he was quickly becoming convinced that he would do perfectly fine in his new school.
"Whoa," he stared, pointing shakily at the area above Rhys's head where a ghostly figure hung. The edges of its face was blurred so that it resembled an amoeba. Its blank eyes glowed a dazzling neon green, but when Oliver stared too long, he found that the green was really a multitude of tiny little polka dots. It had a silly grin on its face, and had five spikes of thin wire for hair. "What is that thing?"
Rhys grinned, tilting his head from side to side. "Well, whatever it is, it can't compare to the piece of skirt hanging over your head! Now, that's what I call one sexy babe. Check out those nice bubbies."
Oliver felt himself blush with embarrassment, and Gareth burst out laughing. "Rhys, chill with the dirty talk! Oliver's too young for that kind of stuff."
Oliver frowned and began to protest, when he noticed that blood was beginning to drip out of the amoeba look-alike's mouth. He watched in fascination as the crimson goo dribbled down its chin and landed on Rhys's head. Then he began giggling. It wasn't a normal laugh, and he idly wondered why he sounded so high pitched, but he didn't care. And when the other two boys began giggling with him, he thought bemusedly that he'd never had so much fun in his life.
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Oliver woke up to find himself sprawled on the floor of the compartment with Gareth's shoeless foot in his face. He groaned and tried to pull himself up, but a wave of dizziness hit him and he was forced to lie back down. Through a receding hazy fog of confusion, he thought he heard a voice announce the train's arrival at Hogsmeade station. Groaning again, he forced himself up, pushing Gareth's foot off his chest and leaning on the windowsill for support. The compartment's walls swirled around in dizzying colours. The floor underneath his feet swayed back and forth.
He was going to be sick.
"Man, if you're going to throw up, do it out in the hall or something."
Oliver turned to glare at Rhys, careful to move his head slowly to reduce the woozy effect. "What the heck did you give me? I feel like I've been run over by a herd of elephants."
Rhys attempted a smile, but it ended up more of a grimace. Wincing, he reached for his bag, and after fumbling around, retrieved several small vials of what appeared to be more Edenic Visions. Oliver stared incredulously at the other boy as he unstopped one of the bottles and greedily drank its contents. "Are you out of your mind?" Oliver asked. "Do you want to feel like..." Oliver struggled for the right word before resorting to something more uncouth, "Like a load of crap?"
Rhys raised his now empty phial as if he was toasting Oliver. "Congratulations. You're finally speaking like the rest of us regular human beings. I was beginning to wonder if rich Daddy Wood had overdone it with the English tutors."
Oliver flushed in anger. "Are you implying something? I'll have you know that I'm just as normal as the rest of you."
Rhys rolled his eyes and said sarcastically, "Oh, yeah, and that's why you use big words like 'implying', huh? Right. Keep fooling yourself and maybe --"
"Oh, jack it in you two! You're giving me a headache." The two boys turned to where Gareth was blearily opening his eyes. "Here, Rhys, give me a bit of that stuff. And give the kid a vial -- if not for his sake, at least for the sake of my sanity."
Rhys wordlessly handed over one of the phials to his friend, and after observing Oliver's miserable state, reluctantly handed over a bottle to him as well. "Here," he gestured. "Take it. It's a bit of Edenic Visions mixed in with some herbs. Good herbs. It'll help with that headache of yours. Trust me."
Oliver stared searchingly at the other boy, and when he detected no obvious signs of deception, grudgingly took the vial. "Thanks," he muttered as he took a swig. "And sorry about earlier. I admit, I have kind of lived a... a sheltered life."
Rhys shrugged carelessly, "Nothing to it. Friends?" He held out his hand.
Oliver hesitated before grasping the outstretched hand. "Friends," he conceded. Then he grinned, "I have to admit though, that stuff you gave me was brilliant. I mean, I don't feel too good now, but before... Way intense."
"It was brilliant, wasn't it?" Rhys agreed. "And, if you stick around long enough, I promise you there'll be better stuff."
Oliver was about to reply when the door to their compartment slid open and an irate-looking boy stepped in. It took Oliver a moment before he realized that the boy was Percy Weasley. Scowling, he asked, "What do you think you're doing?"
The red-haired boy frowned. "In case you haven't noticed, we've arrived. The guide leading us down to Hogwarts told me to come in and check on you guys when someone mentioned that a group of students still hadn't left their compartment. The rest of us first years are waiting for you outside." He turned to look at the other two boys, and his frown deepened. "You're not first years..."
Gareth grinned and pulled himself off the seat, straightening his clothes and running a hand through his hair. "That's right. We're in our third year, though technically, we really should be in our sixth. But," he shrugged. "I suppose failing first year two times, and then failing second year another two times eventually adds up."
Percy looked as if he was about to rebuff the older boy when Oliver stepped in. "Look, Mr. Know-it-All Weasley -- you delivered your message, and we're ready to go, so if you don't mind..." He waved in the direction of the door, glowering in annoyance at the red-haired boy.
Looking as if he was unsure of what to do, Percy finally nodded curtly before strolling out of the compartment.
Oliver sighed as he noticed the two older boys' questioning stares. "You know him?" Rhys asked.
"'Know' does not even begin to describe how much I detest that guy," Oliver replied crossly as he struggled to pull on his cloak.
Rhys glanced at Gareth, who glanced back at him, and raising their eyebrows in unison, the two boys prodded Oliver for more details. And so, in the few minutes it took for them to prepare to leave the train, Oliver explained in a brisk, clipped manner his two previous meetings with the other student. By the time the three boys descended the steps of Hogwarts Express, they had decided to make Percy Weasley's life at Hogwarts as wretched as possible.
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As Percy stormed down the hall, he wondered why he'd even bothered. When the big, bulky guide -- he'd said he was Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper -- had asked if there were anymore first year students, a group of girls had said that one of the compartments had remained closed, and that someone might have slept through the arrival. When Percy looked around, he knew instantly that Oliver was probably one of the missing first years, and in the hopes of befriending the other boy, had immediately volunteered to help look for him. As it turned out, Oliver had quite obviously not needed his friendship.
Embarrassed at his own stupidity, he stumbled down the train steps and soon became conscious of thirty or so heads swivelling around to face him. Already feeling humiliated from his encounter with Oliver Wood, he was in no mood to be at the centre of attention. After informing Hagrid that Oliver and the other two students would be joining them soon, he retreated to the back of the group, hoping that he would be left alone to wallow in his embarrassment. Hagrid had other ideas. Frowning, the gamekeeper motioned him to the front of the group, and after some prompting, Percy reluctantly made his way over to Hagrid. "Other students? Did you say there were other students in the compartment and that they weren't first years?"
Percy nodded. "Yeah, but I only spoke with one of them. He said he'd failed both first year and second year twice over. I didn't catch his name, though."
Hagrid's frown seemed to deepen, and he stroked his beard. "I hope it's not those two," he murmured.
At that moment, the three boys came tumbling down the steps of the Hogwarts Express, and the boy that Percy had spoken to grinned ruefully. "Hey, Hagrid. How was your summer?"
Scowling, Hagrid tossed his head in the direction where the platform disappeared around a bend. "You two know the drill. They'll be waiting for you guys."
The two older boys nodded and after turning to say something to Oliver, left the group of first year students with Hagrid. As they walked by, Percy thought they didn't look too steady on their feet. Shrugging indifferently, he turned to follow Hagrid down a tight, muddy path, and as he did, caught sight of the cold look Oliver shot in his direction.
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After Hagrid left the first year students in a small, tucked-away chamber near the Great Hall, Percy prepared himself for a long, tedious wait. He knew all about the Sorting Ceremony, and wasn't half as nervous as the other first years. He also didn't care very much for the Quidditch conversations going on around him, and soon found himself standing against a wall by himself. All in all, he was bored stiff.
So when a student off to the side had made the initial observation, he had naturally been curious for lack of something better to do.
At first, nobody really cared. They were, after all, just a bunch of portraits, and although they fascinated the few students who came from Muggle families, most of the first years were far more concerned about the upcoming sorting. However, when one of the pictures started drawing a rather large crowd, things got a little more interesting.
The portraits -- five of them, each on top of the other, with the bottom one leaning diagonally against the wall -- didn't look particularly special at first glance. In fact, the topmost picture was a rather hideous rendering of a sleeping sphinx. Or at least, it had appeared to be sleeping. After several prods of the wand by a bored first year, the sphinx had opened an eye, and staring keenly at the startled boy for a couple of seconds, had proceeded to make a horrific prediction: "You will fall in love with a hag who has onion breath."
At first, the surrounding people had thought the prediction a riot, and several others had poked the portrait in an attempt to have the sphinx prophesy something. Strangely, though, as the sphinx slowly roused itself out of slumber, the predictions became less and less ridiculous, and more and more ominous. By the time Percy had made his way over to the front of the crowd, a frightened girl was sobbing as the sphinx inferred that in ten years, a close friend of hers would die alone and disfigured in a magical fire.
Frowning, Percy stepped in between the girl and the portrait, turning to look at the crowd of first years. "There's no need to get worried about these silly predictions. There's probably no truth to what the portrait is saying. Besides, everyone knows that sphinxes speak in riddles, so you can never trust what they say. And, this sphinx isn't even speaking in riddles -- which means it's most likely a fake, and who cares what a fake sphinx has to say, right?"
His question was met with a moment of silence, when from behind him, the silky voice of the sphinx asked, "Would you like a prediction, young man?"
Percy turned to face the portrait. "No, thank you, but I appreciate the offer anyway."
The sphinx blinked slowly, and to Percy's surprise, it said, "Hm, well, even if you don't want a prediction, I'd like to give you one. You're one of the most fascinating humans I've come across in half a century, so if you'll oblige me..." And without waiting for a response, it purred, "Beware the skull that holds too much and the head that thinks too little."
Percy stared at the portrait. "That's it?" he asked incredulously. "That's all you've got to say for me when you've been predicting death and murder left and right?"
The sphinx smiled enigmatically. "Oh, but there's going to be a lot of that going on around you anyway, so why state the obvious?" It seemed to heave a heavy sigh before hunkering down onto its haunches. "Now, if you'll all excuse me, it's been a rather tiring day. I must say, this is the most excitement I've had in about two millennia. The last time I had this much fun with a human, he ended up gouging his eyes out."
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Oliver smirked as he watched Percy's face pale. Serves him right, he thought. Showing off and pretending he's all brave and everything. Just as he prepared to make a smart comment, a rather dishevelled-looking witch in rumpled emerald green robes made her way into the room. "I apologize for the wait, but several students in the Great Hall chose this most untimely moment to work out their differences. In any case, everything is fine now, and the Headmaster's just getting everything prepared. Now, let me introduce myself. I'm Professor McGonagall, Hogwarts' Deputy Headmistress. Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We'll soon be heading down to the Great Hall where..."
Oliver tuned her out. Rhys and Gareth had already given him a play by play of Professor McGonagall's first year speech. Apparently, the only difference they'd detected in her speech was that she varied her descriptions of the Sorting Ceremony: once, they'd been with a group of first years who'd been particularly nervous, and McGonagall had taken a bit of extra time to explain the ceremony to them.
When she finally finished her speech, and motioned for the students to file out after her, Oliver moved to the back of the line. Percy was at the front. As he moved past the portrait of the sphinx, Oliver paused. Scoffing at the other students' stupidity, he nudged the picture, wondering if the snoring sphinx would wake up. When it didn't, he rolled his eyes and moved to catch up with the other students. As he did, though, a low, sleepy voice called out from behind him: "Beware the fear of memories."
Oliver froze. Swivelling around, he faced the portrait. The sphinx, though still half-asleep, was gazing at him through narrowed eyes. "Beware the fear of memories," it continued, "and the man who comes with amethyst eyes." Then, it dropped its head onto its paws and fell back to sleep.
Oliver stood rooted to the spot, and even when he saw that most of the students had already filed into the Great Hall, he found that he couldn't move, could barely breathe. He stared at the portrait, and suddenly felt very, very cold.
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Author's Notes: It's the third chapter! Wheeee! Three is a very lucky number for me. ^_~ And this chapter, very luckily, went by pretty fast. At first, it was hard to write (especially the drug scene, which I still think doesn't seem right), but the portrait scene went great. Actually, I think I rushed that sphinx scene, but I had the whole thing planned weeks ahead, so it was great fun typing it out. =D
Until next weekend...
-- Mang Guo