Hmm…not only did I get more reviews with that last chapter (Thirty-One!!!), but more interesting theories, as well. Brrrravo! There's nothing a writer (well, this writer, anyway) likes more than readers who THINK! To this I can only say there are a great number of people (a whole whole whole whole lot of people) in my classes who are testament to the fact that we need more of these (thinking people, that is)…
Siriusly, though (Did anyone catch that? Huh? Didjuh? Didjuh? groan : \ ), Muchas Gracias for the reviews! Let's see, um, if Reviews were alcohol, then I'd be, um, way way way drunk by now. Heh. Yeah, that's it. Anyhoo, enough of this week's " 'riter's Rant," and awayyyyy we go! ~8]
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Disclaimers: See…oh, just see a previous chapter. Any one. 'Pick a card, any card,' that sort of thing. It's your choice, really.
Chapter 10: Priori Morpheum
Inside the Greenhouse, it was time for the annual Mandrake harvesting, much to the students' dismay. Only Ron remained oblivious to the keens of the wailing plants, too eager in what Hermione had to tell him after class to pay attention to the deafening shrieks. He would have asked her sooner, but she had been paired up with Pansy Parkinson, and he with Seamus.
With one great yank his Mandrake wrenched its roots from the soil, and he quickly gave it to Professor Sprout, who had come prepared for the occasion donning earplugs. They were all allowed to leave when the last Mandrake had been taken care of, a stubborn thing that wouldn't relinquish its pot. Crabbe had taken care of that, with just enough time for the lot of them to make it safely to the Slytherin Dungeons for Potions. Ron sighed as Hermione took her seat in the front, unaware of the two empty seats near him in the back. They would be separated for yet another class period. Nearly ridden with anxiety, Ron knew this class was going to be more torturous than it usually was.
Was he ever right.
Snape strode in nearly ten minutes late, his brisk movement evident in the way his cloak billowed grandly around him. He spun on the class abruptly when he reached the podium, eyeing the room suspiciously. Ron saw his eyes narrow briefly when he came across the two empty seats in the back. It was then the professor went from 'pissed' to 'seething.'
"I've just spoken with Headmaster Dumbledore about the whereabouts of our Mr. Malfoy, who I thought had simply decided to take his Winter vacation three months earlier than usual." He pointed a finger at the face of each and every student, slowly making his way around the room.
"Let it be noted, however, that Slytherin or not, this would be a rather foolish and very, very unwise decision, to say the least, if I were you." He began to pace behind the podium, taking long, slow steps to the end of the table and back. He then turned to face the class once more.
"If anyone here has any information on the location of Mr. Malfoy, speak. Now."
The students turned to their classmates, nearly all shaking their heads or shrugging at once. Snape exhaled loudly, gripping the sides of the podium.
"I find it very, very hard to believe that not a single, solitary one of you has no idea whatsoever concerning where Mr. Malfoy could be. How about you, Mr. Crabbe, or Mr. Goyle perhaps? Surely you've come into contact with him in the last day or so."
"No, Sir," Goyle ventured, "we haven't."
Snape nodded in mock disappointment. "No, then, hmm? Then perhaps the Ravenclaws?"
No response.
"Hufflepuffs?"
Silence.
"Or maybe--dare I even waste my breath in asking?-- the lame-brained Gryffindors--" A murmur of snickers erupted from a few Slytherins, threatening to interrupt the flow of Snape's tirade. Today he would have nothing of it.
Snape banged his fist loudly against the podium, causing everyone to jump in their seats. "Be QUIET!" he hissed. The Professor then ran a hand through his hair and began to walk towards the back of the classroom. Ron gulped audibly when Snape stopped in front of his table.
"Mr. Weasley. You of all people should know where Mr. Malfoy is." He leaned forward only inches from Ron, lowering his voice so only the young wizard could hear him. "Don't think for one second that I'm blind to all that goes on outside this classroom, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps you've made good on your threats after all, hmm?" Snape then stood up straight once more, smiling at the red blush which had crept up over Ron's face. Ron knew Snape would just love nothing more than to see him snap and attack the professor in front of the entire class. Ron took a deep breath to calm himself down, and replied in a perfectly even voice.
"I'm sorry, Sir, I haven't a clue where he is."
Snape simply stared at Ron for a moment or two, then addressed him once more so that the entire class could hear. "Not you, then? Well, perhaps your asinine brothers--"
Marcus Flint hadn't time to even cover his mouth to stifle another laugh when Snape whirled about angrily, wand in hand. A loud gasp filled the room as he hissed, "Silencio!" Ron supposed Marcus had cried out in surprise the way the other boy's mouth was hanging open, but couldn't dwell on it lest he forget something Snape had just said.
His brothers…
Ron's mouth dropped as had Marcus's. The Map! Draco would show up on the Marauder's Map! The one his brothers had just taken to Hogsmeade… Ron smacked himself on the forehead, grateful that Snape had turned his back and was already making his way to the podium once again. Why hadn't he thought of it sooner?
Probably because you were hoping that he'd gone and died, the stupid wanker, his subconscious responded, much to Ron's surprise. He remained oblivious to the end of Snape's rant, only becoming aware of his surroundings again when the other students began taking out their quills and parchments. Ron kept his head low as he wrote, smiling broadly. Wait 'till Hermione hears this…
* * * * * *
Harry's bespectacled eyes flitted nervously from Dumbledore to McGonagall, who now flanked the sides of his bed. He all but ignored Madame Pomfrey as his professors conversed with one another, the nurse as curious as he was. Harry had been allowed to sit up, so he was now unsuccessfully trying to sink lower into the bed. Finally, Dumbledore turned to Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Harry? Are you certain that you want to do this?"
Haven't I BEEN saying 'No'? he thought to himself. McGonagall spoke before Harry could even open his mouth in protest.
"Albus, it's harmless to the boy. He won't feel anything but a little tired afterwards, and his dream might tell us something that needs to be known." Dumbledore nodded, and smiled at Harry.
"Alright, Harry, I just need you to close your eyes for a moment…yes, that's good. Now, this won't hurt at all." Harry couldn't help but feel the least bit apprehensive as the Headmaster placed the tip of his wand onto Harry's forehead. Ever so gently, he pronounced the words, "Priori Morpheum."
For a brief moment, Harry felt light-headed, as if the wand was draining the contents of his head, pains and all. Then, it ended nearly as soon as it had began.
McGonagall lightly touched Harry's shoulder, signaling to him that it was alright to open his eyes. After doing so Harry was surprised to find that Dumbledore's wand was glowing a brilliant blue. His professor only smiled, then casually swished and flicked the wand in the direction of the wall. Harry's eyes grew round as what was once a flat, white surface become something like a large, three-dimensional television screen. He smiled briefly at the thought that it was much larger than any television screen his cousin Dudley would ever see in his lifetime. Then, a familiar feeling of anxiousness tightened at his chest as his dream began to 'play' on the wall before him.
The dream appeared a lot hazier to Harry's audience than he had remembered it. Still, there was no mistake about what was occurring. Minerva watched intently as she watched Harry enter the Gryffindor's Bathroom with so much caution, it was as if the young man knew what was going to happen. She glanced worriedly at the Harry sitting on the bed next to her, who was unaware of her concerned gaze. Madame Pomfrey remained mystified by Dumbledore's wand enough as it was without having to take the whole situation at hand into account.
Harry could feel his breath quicken as his dream-self gazed into the mirror; it was like watching one of Dudley's horror movies, and he was powerless to stop anything from happening. Harry jumped when his doppleganger first caught him off guard, then quickly disappearing from sight. When he had looked into the mirror though, to see himself standing behind him, Harry heard himself and the others gasp loudly all at once.
He felt himself begin to shake in fearful anticipation as the next scene unfolded. He averted his eyes when the Doppleganger's arms shot from the mirror, but glanced back just in time to see that it wasn't Madame Pomfrey who had been slapping him across the face, but his doppleganger…
Clamping his eyes shut tightly, Harry tried to block out the frightening screams now audible to everybody within the Infirmary. His screams.
It was all over just a few mintues later. Eyes screwed shut, Harry could feel himself trembling slightly, unaware that his dream had ended. Dumbledore's hand smoothing the hair from his face brought him back to attention. Opening his eyes, Harry was surprised to find that they were wet. He sucked in a breath, blinking his eyes clear before the tears could fall. Looking up at his professors, he was now certain that they would figure out who had attacked him.
Dumbledore spoke hesitantly. "Harry…would you say you've been under a great deal of…stress, lately?" Harry glanced warily at him, unsure how to answer. "Why do you ask?" "Well, Harry," the old wizard began cautiously, "It's just that, with everything that's gone on in the last year, such as the, ah, Triwizard's Tournament, and, ahh, Cedric's death, and all, well, you haven't much, ah, talked to anybody about it. What I mean to say is, I think your nightmare symbolizes how you might be trying to, ah, kill yourself--figuratively, of course--by keeping your feelings sort of 'bottled-up' inside, as the Muggles say. You'll correct me if I'm wrong, of course."
Harry didn't know whether to laugh or start bawling. Was he serious? Harry began to nod slowly, trying his best not to break out into a grin at the absurdity of his Headmaster's theory. "That…that's it, Professor," he managed with a small smile. "Not to say I physically attacked myself, of course, but you're absolutely right. I don't know why I didn't see that before." Not a bad guess, he thought, but they are utterly and completely clueless…Dumbledore smiled, giving him an affectionate rub on the arm.
"Anytime you'd like to talk, Harry, my door will always be open." Harry nodded appreciatively as he and McGonagall got up from his bedside. He couldn't help notice, however, that there was something unreadable on McGonagall's face which suggested that she wasn't quite buying into her Superior's explanation. She excused herself politely, offering the same consolation as Albus had. Before they were even outside the Infirmary, Pomfrey rushed forward with a piece of chocolate, all but cramming it down Harry's throat.
"You need to rest now," she commanded gently. "I tried to tell them you weren't quite ready yet, but do they ever listen to me? Oh, no, of course not. I'm only the Health Care Professional, but, what do I know…" As she helped the young boy settle into his bed once more, Poppy's eyes strayed to the cheek he had accused her of slapping. She had been witness to Harry's dream, had seen what happened. The longer she stared at the resting wizard's face, however, Poppy could have sworn that the faintest imprint of a hand had left its mark upon Harry's cheek. But, surely, that can't be…
Pomfrey shook the feeling off, and arose from Harry's bedside to continue with her duties.
* * * * * *
Hermione was having the best day of her life.
She could hardly believe the applause she was getting as she stood before all of Hogwarts, each and every student in attendance within the Great Hall clapping and cheering in her honor.
The young girl didn't quite know how she had managed to become Head Girl, Head Boy, a Prefect, and an Auror all at once, but as Dumbledore placed the medallions and badges on her robe, she figured it just might have had to do something with her being the best student at Hogwarts. Hermione knew this only because everyone had told her so year-in and year-out for as long as she could remember, even the Slytherins, on occasion. It was the best awards ceremony she had ever attended, or would have been, anyway, if Dumbledore hadn't been jarring her shoulder so roughly as she was trying to make her acceptance speech…
"Hermione, wake up!"
Hermione's eyes snapped open, quite surprised when she wasn't looking at the Hogwarts student body in the Great Hall, but rather Lee Jordan's face in the Slytherin Dungeons. Only as she took into account his urgent whisper and surprised countenance did she realized what had happened.
She.
Had.
Fallen.
Asleep.
In Class.
Hermione braced herself for a smack about the head by Snape any moment now, but was more than relieved to see her professor busying himself with drilling a Ravenclaw at the back of the room for information. She exhaled a great and nervous breath, both shocked and ashamed at what she had done. Hermione didn't even want to consider what Snape might have done if he had caught her, considering what he did to a now silent Marcus Flint, a student in his own House. Then again, she supposed the lecture must have been the most dull and boring ever for even her to have fallen asleep. She glanced up at the Wizard Clock just in time to see it strike noon--time for lunch.
At the sound of the chiming bells, the students rushed from the Dungeon almost as hurriedly as they had earlier in the week. As Hermione passed her Professor, she could have sworn she heard him mutter, "Useless. Every last one of them. Useless," under his breath. She then spotted Ron waiting for her outside the entrance. Quickly joining him, Hermione waited only a few seconds before words came gushing from her mouth.
"Ron, you will never believe--"
"Hermione, you'll never guess--"
Both friends stopped short in the hallway, having begun speaking at the same time. Hermione shook her head in protest. "Oh, no, I've been waiting far too long to tell you this--"
"Yeah," Ron interrupted, "but I've had to wait during all that time, so I should go first because not only have I had to wait, but I've got something more interesting to say, so here goes." He didn't even wait for the bemused look that had spread across Hermione's face to vanish before he continued.
"Alright, you know how Malfoy's missing, and everything?"
"Riiiiiight…"
"Well, I know how we can find him!" Ron beamed excitedly.
"Right, the Marauder's Map." She didn't even acknowledge Ron's dropped jaw before explaining. "I caught Harry using it right before the last Hogsmeade trip. He didn't even have time to erase it before I asked him what he was up to, and he knew better than to try and lie to me--"
"B-but, how--"
"Then, I thought about how you had ran downstairs earlier to give something to Fred and George while I wasn't looking--"
"So how were you looking--?"
"Please, Ron," she commented as she rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, "I'm not blind, you know. You don't go running upstairs for no reason at all--"
"Well, maybe I migh--"
Hermione didn't skip a beat as she continued. "And then I thought, 'What would Fred and George want more than anything that you've got--"
"So, you realized it then? Why didn't you tell me before class--"
She shook her head. "Oh, see, I didn't think about the Map again until Snape started questioning everybody. And that's when I thought, 'If Draco is still at Hogwarts, then he'll be on the Map'!"
Ron stared unblinking at his friend, mouth slightly agape. His mouth moved to make words, but since he wasn't quite sure what to say, he ended up looking more like a fish gasping for air than anything at the moment. Finally, he scoffed loudly, waving his hand about as if dismissing Hermione.
"Oh, the hell you did! You're just bitter that I thought of something first for once--"
"I am not! Look, I even scribbled the idea on parchment the moment I thought about it. See? It's right there next to the date and time, along with my initials--"
"Ah, the hell with it. Either way, Fred and George have got the Map now, and they won't be back until tonight." He sighed, shoulders sagging. "Alright," he said, crossing his arms, "what else have you found out?"
Hermione nearly bubbled over anew. "Well, when I got to my usual spot in the Library, somebody had left a huge book of Omens on the table. It didn't tell me anything I didn't already know about Dopplegangers, but it did give me some new leads, though the book I need is out at the moment--"
Ron help up his hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, there. Okay, somebody left this book at your usual table, and now the other one you need has been checked out. Someone's setting you up, Hermione," he finished matter-of-factly.
She scowled disapprovingly. "Ron, I swear I'm going to turn you into a ferret one of these days. Now, let me finish. The Omens book said something about a 'fetch,' which is why I need that other book, because it's in there."
"'Fetch'? What's a bloody 'fetch'?"
Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. I only had time to look in a few other omen books, but they didn't have anything in there on 'doppleganger' or 'fetch.' I'm going again after I get some lunch to check out the other books."
Ron nodded. "Alright, then, sounds good. And as much as I'd like to sniff around in old books with you, I think I'll pay a visit to Harry instead, fill him in with what we've found, and all."
"Right, and tell him about Draco and the Map, too."
Ron smirked. "I can't believe you knew about the Map the whole time." Hermione smiled at him as they continued their walk to lunch. "Like I said, Ron, I'm not blind. Besides, we Prefects have got eyes in the back of our heads." She ignored his befuddled glance, instead choosing to image how nice the shiny badge would look on her, hoping it would look even half as radiant as it had in her dream.
* * * * * *
Hmm. A piece of chicken. Just lying here in the middle of the floor.
How odd…
Sniff
Smells like chicken…
Slurp
Tastes like chicken…
Chomp
"Mmmmmpff…OWWW!!!"
Draco's cry of surprise sounded muffled against his leg, which he promptly released his teeth from. He sucked air through clenched teeth as he ran a finger over the wet bite marks.
Definitely NOT chicken…
He swore he smelled food, then wondered just how long a person could last, Muggle or Wizard, without it. Draco wiped the blood from his leg, then laid down flat once more upon the floor with his hands laced across his abdomen. Although his stomach rumbled fiercely, he was quite content at the moment just dreaming of all the food he would eat once he got out.
That, and imagining he had a fork, a large butcher's knife, and Potter's head served to him a silver platter.
* * * * * *
Madame Pomfrey bustled about the Infirmary, folding some extra bedsheets and straightening those already laid out on the beds. She checked every now and then on her sleeping patient, who had been under her care more times in the last five years than the rest of the student body combined.
The nurse reapplied the dressing on Harry's forehead for good measure, satisfied when no fresh spots of blood had appeared on the one she discarded. She thought it odd that there were no blade marks visible on the boy's skin, as he had claimed to have been cut with a knife or something equally sharp. She shrugged it off, returning to her sheet-smoothing activities.
So engrossed was she in her own thoughts that she failed to notice the silent figure standing not three feet behind her.
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OOOOhhhooooo, wonder what's gonna happen next? Muah-ha-ha…and as for "Priori Morpheum," well, either I was going for the whole "Morpheus" = "God of Sleep" = "Dreams and Stuff" schtick or it means I've been downloading wayyyyy too frequently from Morpheus. I think you know my whacked-out mind well enough by now to guess which it is. Anyhoo, until next chapter, and…
Rolllllll Calllllll: Lady Foxfire! Raven! Allocin! Loopy! Lily Malfoy! Taracollowen! Iris! Zahrah Thomson-Radcliffe! Guess! Beccy! Amerkat! Mouse! AAAANNNNNDDDDD Lili (Danke!)!!! Yay!!!! I've Had Too Much Sugar!!! Yay!!!!
(Hmm, I guess the whole "Roll Call" bit means I've been reading wayyyyy too many MST3K fics, now doesn't it? Heh, imagine that…oh, and cough visitwebsite9formoremst3kfics cough). That is all. ~8]