The Nature Of A Man
Disclaimer: The usual. The characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling and this work represents a poor fumbling attempt at a Harry Potter story. I really wasn't sure where the story was going but it's rated PG-13 just in case. Read and review. You like it or you don't, just drop me a line at jadewing@hotmail.com if you want to rant or praise longer. OK, I said I wasn't going to do this but I can't help it. To JadeDragon, Lioness Blackfire, Stephanie, Rockie, nanami27, Fanny chan, MOI, mistykasumi, Tigerlily, Grey Malfoy, Kimmy and ZipZoey, thanks so much for all the reviews!!! I know my story isn't so spectacular that it's ever gonna get 78 reviews or something but I wanna say that the reviews you guys give me are WAY more worth it. Thanks for giving me the will to go on!! Ok, ok, now that I'm done making a fool of myself, well, just enjoy the story. It's progressing a little faster than I thought it would but I got a little tired at waiting for things to happen anyway.
Something momentous happened the next Friday. The Gryffindors were attending another Transfiguration class and there were restless mutters and general fidgeting. It was a warm sunny day outside and the students were impatient for the end of the lesson. Only Hermione was paying attention, shooting Harry and Ron dirty looks when they yawned or fidgeted. Professor McGonagall was teaching them how to turn a match into a mouse. She waved her wand, tapped the match three times and uttered the words. The match remained a match. There was instant silence. Professor McGonagall looked a little shaken at her failure and she sank into her chair silently. No one made a sound and no one stirred for a long time.
With a clatter, Professor McGonagall stood up, knocking over the chair in her haste. One hand held the wand in death-like grip. She waved it, tapped the match three times and cried out the words. This time, the match swelled up, sprouted hair and turned into a squeaking mouse. There was applause from the Gryffindors but Professor McGonagall seemed not to notice.
"What was that about? I've never seen McGonagall fail with a spell before," Ron muttered after class. They left behind a silent Professor McGonagall who had declined to assign any homework at all.
"Remember Flitwick a few days ago?" Harry asked them. They nodded. "I think it's the same thing."
Hermione looked puzzled and a little worried. "But why are they losing their powers? And how?"
"Maybe it's Malfoy," Ron suggested. Harry stirred a little at that.
But Hermione shook her head. "I've never heard of any spell capable of weakening a witch's or a wizard's powers. It must be something else …"
They were free for the rest of the afternoon but it was time for Harry's first Quidditch practice since the term had started. He left Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room. Carrying his broom, he headed towards the Quidditch pitch. Almost unanimously just a few days ago, they had voted for Angelina Johnson as Captain, and they had found themselves a new Keeper as well – a slim fourth-year boy named Thomas Mortley. He had shown some promise in his new post and Harry was looking forward to this year's Quidditch game. As he neared the pitch, he could hear the voices of the team. Harry ran the last few steps, thinking they were busy talking about the upcoming plans for the year. They weren't.
"I couldn't believe it when Flitwick's Animation Charm just wore off halfway," Katie Bell said. She was leaning against her broom.
"Right. And McGonagall fouled up one of her Transfigurations right in front of us," Fred exclaimed. He caught sight of Harry. "Hullo, Harry! Did you hear the news about the teachers?"
He nodded. "Yeah. McGonagall was really shaken just now."
"What could be happening?" Angelina wondered.
Suffice to say, the afternoon was spent discussing the problem facing the teachers. From the stories that the team shared, only some of the teachers had been affected … or seemed to have been affected. McGonagall, Flitwick, Professor Sprout and Professor Sinistra were the four most talked about. Angelina had seen Professor Sinistra in tears after a minor spell had totally failed to work. Professor Sprout's Weeding Charm had gone haywire and weeds had sprouted in the vegetable patches, killing all the other vegetables. In one week, so many things had happened. A very troubled Harry returned to the castle, not looking up. Which may have explained the accident. He heard the "Oof!" before he felt himself knocking into someone. The momentum knocked him to the ground but the other person was sent tumbling as well.
"Are you all right? I'm sorry! It's all my fault!" Harry apologized. He dusted himself off and hurried to the other person. A pale Malfoy stood up, wincing in pain. Harry grabbed him by the wrist and Malfoy flinched. "Ouch!" His face twisted up in pain. Gently, Harry felt Malfoy's slender wrist. It didn't seem to have been broken.
"Sorry," Harry muttered, feeling his face burn.
"You again," Malfoy sighed.
"I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey," Harry told him, supporting his arm carefully by the elbow.
"I can get there myself, Potter," Malfoy snapped at him.
Harry sighed. "I insist. I'll feel guilty if I don't. Please."
"All right." Malfoy started walking to the hospital wing and Harry fell into step beside him. They were silent for a while and then Harry cleared his throat.
"Did you hear about the teachers?" Harry asked him.
Malfoy's reaction was surprising. He jerked his arm away and then winced. "I-I-I didn't. I didn't hear anything."
Harry stared at him. "What's wrong with you? Why are you so weird about the whole thing?"
"You think it's me." Malfoy's face drained of all colour. "You think it's me, don't you?"
"Relax. Don't be so paranoid." He glanced at Malfoy. "We – I don't. So, relax."
Malfoy bit his lip and opened his mouth as if he was on the verge of saying something but Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to appear around the corner. She made a sound of exasperation at the sight of Malfoy's wrist, scolded Harry for running in the halls and then vanished with Malfoy. He appeared a moment later with his wrist completely healed up.
"What were you going to say just now?" Harry asked him curiously.
"Nothing." Malfoy's face began turning pink. "Actually … Hogsmeade weekend is tomorrow and I wanted to know if you'd like to have dinner with me."
"Like a date?" Harry asked with a teasing smile.
"NO!" Malfoy's face was a deep crimson now. "Just to say thanks."
Harry nodded. "All right. I'll let Ron and Hermione know –"
"No!" Malfoy interrupted. "Don't tell them anything! Say … say you have Quidditch practice or something!"
"I'd be lying to them," Harry said slowly.
"No, you won't. After you spend time with them, we'll have dinner and then you and I can have Quidditch practice." Malfoy gave him an uncertain look.
"Malfoy. What's up with this?" Harry gazed at him. "Why the dinner?"
Malfoy gave him a long look. "I'll tell you tomorrow after dinner. That's all I can say." And he dashed off towards the Slytherin common rooms. Harry was left there, shaking his head in puzzlement.