Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Four
A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to lazydaisy for reviewing! By the by, I totally share your love of Harry Potter and Sean Biggerstaff. yummmmm *drooling* He could be my Gryffindor Keeper anyday (no perverted joke intended. okay, maybe a little. Wink wink, nudge nudge)
Yay, I'm not a total failure *breathes sigh of relief* Now, I know you're all dying to know how ol' Neville's doing. well, read on, noble viewer, read on!
Characters: Not mine. Plot: Totally mine. Tuna Sandwiches: Staying at least twelve feet away from me.
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The whole Gryffindor table had no clue Neville Longbottom was dying. Swaying slightly in his chair, the panicked boy did the only thing he could; and fell right in Harry's lap. "What the -" Harry asked, looking bewilderedly down at Neville, who had used all the remaining strength he had to collapse.
"Quick, somebody help! Something's wrong with Neville!" Harry shrieked, trying to raise the boy off his lap. The whole hall fell silent at the tone of horror in his voice, and all eyes were turned to the scene.
The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher leapt up from the Staff Table and rushed over, wavy brown hair flowing out behind her, followed closely by Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall. "Jectave!" the new woman shouted, pointing her wand at Neville as she cast the wizarding version of the Heimlich manuver. Nothing happened. "Status Mystronos!" she shouted after a moment's evaluation, and her wand glowed red briefly as she closed her eyes. After only a second they snapped open again and she knelt down so close to Neville nobody could hear the spell she uttered.
Harry held his breath, hoping Neville wasn't. but before he could finish the ghastly thought, the teacher stood up again, looking grim.
"What is it, Professor Callahan?" McGonagall whispered fearfully.
"A suffocation curse, the Negraggiss. I've performed the counter-curse, but this boy's got to be taken to the Hospital Wing immediately. He's still not in the clear yet." The woman commanded expertly. At once Dumbledore picked up the boy, lying stiffly on the ground, and exited the Great Hall with McGonagall hurrying after him.
"I think the feast is officially over now, Prefects please lead your houses to their dormitories." The new Professor instructed, projecting her voice throughout the hall. Her sharp honey-colored eyes lingered on Harry, giving him a sympathetic look before she turned to usher along the terrified first years.
Back in the Gryffindor Tower Room, things were the normal party that they were on the first day back. Even Seamus Finnigan, who wasn't all that fond of Neville to start with, was cracking jokes about the incident. Harry, Ron, and Hermione huddled in a corner to discuss things quietly.
"What's the Negraggiss Curse, Hermione?" Harry asked, figuring that if anyone knew, she would.
"I've heard of it, not one of the Unforgivable Curses but pretty close. The victim gets panicky and tries to take quicker breaths, and that's how the curse works. If you try to gulp in air as fast as you can, your lungs seize up and you'll suffocate. There is a way to break through it though, if you calm yourself down and take slow, deep breaths, you'll survive." Hermione explained. "It's a curse we're supposed to learn about this year, but I've already read ahead several chapters."
"D'you think Neville'll be okay?" Ron croaked, evidently hit pretty hard.
"Sure, Madame Pomefry's got the cure for anything up there in the Hospital Wing. The thing I'm more worried about is where he got the curse. I don't remember anything, and I was sitting right next to him. Harry, what'd Neville do just before he fell over onto you?" Hermione asked, that official Sherlock Holmes-esque gleam in her eyes.
"I don't really remember, eating I suppose. I was talking to Ron abou - OH NO." Harry said, relaying them the events of that night.
"What, what is it? You remember something?" Hermione asked excitedly.
"There was some tiny little tart that just popped up on my plate unexpectedly, and dessert wasn't supposed to have been served yet. I figured it was just a present from Dobby or Winky from the kitchen. I wasn't all that hungry, so I gave it to Neville. That was the last thing I remember him doing before. it happened." Harry described. "You don't think it could've. do you?"
"I don't know, Harry, it is possible. But how could it get there?" Hermione answered his question with another question. Her statement was punctuated by Lee Jordan's yelp when a dessert he was eating made a lout POP! and disappeared.
"Oh, sorry Lee. A Popping Pastry must've gotten mixed in with those tarts." Fred said, clapping his frightened friend on the back. The three of them looked at each other, all thinking the same thing: could it have been the twins?
"Of course, it takes a very experienced witch or wizard to execute such a curse. It's very advanced Dark Magic." Hermione clarified. But there were still secret doubts hiding in their minds.
Classes began the next day, but they seemed incomplete, lacking Neville's nervous gibber. Charms was very boring without Professor Flitwick flying across the room, which was usually Neville's mistake by way of some wild spell. Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to go and visit their friend during lunch.
"Oh, hello Professor Dumbledore." Harry greeted, walking in the Hospital Wing and finding the headmaster sitting next to Neville's bed.
"Nice to see you Harry, Ron, Hermione. Come to visit?" the old wizard asked.
"Yeah, we've missed him." Harry answered. That was only part of the reason though; Harry also felt responsible for what happened. After all, it was his tart in the first place, and if he hadn't been so self-absorbed he would've noticed Neville's reaction.
"How's he doing?" Hermione asked, setting a homemade 'Get Well' card on the disturbingly bare table. Whenever Harry was in the hospital, which was quite often, two tables weren't nearly enough to hold all his gifts. Harry made a mental note to bring a card next visit.
"Been sleeping for eighteen hours straight, and you can count on eighteen more. His body is barely old enough to handle the curse. Much younger, or much more time without air, and he wouldn't've been as fortunate." Dumbledore said dolefully. That sobered the group up even more than they already were.
Suddenly Neville stirred and groaned in a raspy voice. "Harry, will you come with me to get another sleeping potion for Neville here?" Dumbledore asked. Harry followed the headmaster through the white double doors, and began scanning the vast shelves.
"So Professor Dumbledore, how's everything?" Harry asked, indicating how the fight against Voldemort was coming.
"It's a fine struggle, Harry. The meeting Sirius, Remus, and the rest of the crowd attended was an organization of strategy. We've got a number of taps in the Ministry, including Ron's father, who are keeping us posted on the goings on there. I get a hundred owls a day from various Ministry officials, asking what to do. Cornelius Fudge is pretty well just a figurehead now, hardly being allowed to make any decisions at all. Looks like I'm the undercover Minister of Magic." Dumbledore explained.
"Had any problems from Death Eaters yet?" Harry inquired.
"Just a few, but minor things compared to what Voldemort could do if he wanted. Childs play, a warm-up for what's coming. Professor Snape hasn't been discovered as a spy yet, and is attending Death Eater Meetings once a week. He isn't trusted enough to be let in the inner circle of The Dark Lord's officers though. But still, he's our most important link in winning this fight." The headmaster answered. Harry always appreciated the way he wasn't treated like a child during these discussions.
"Right now, our hands are tied. Voldemort's got the first move, and we can't do anything until he's willing. The best we can manage is preparing for the many courses of action he could take." Dumbledore continued. Harry thought a look of worry and protection passed over the old man's face as he gazed at the child, but it was gone so quickly Harry wondered if it was even there to begin with.
Returning to the bedside, Dumbledore gingerly poured the liquid down Neville's propped open mouth. Instantly a look of peace and rest came over his face and he lay still. Promising to come back the next day, the three friends left the Hospital Wing and traipsed down to the Great Hall for some lunch.
"I feel so sorry for Neville." Hermione began, but stopped short when the sneering face of Draco Malfoy rounded the corner.
"Well if it isn't Potty and the Weasel, with Mangy Grangy tagging along." Malfoy's lip curled up unpleasantly.
"Shove it, Malfoy, or later you might just be singing a different tune." Hermione retorted scathingly, before marching away sassily. Harry and Ron savored Malfoy's outraged face before running along behind her.
"Gee Hermione, you've certainly got it out for Malfoy all of a sudden." Ron remarked, sitting down beside her while a corned beef sandwich popped up on his plate.
"I've decided not to let him push me around this year. That prat's got to learn his lesson sometime, before he grows up to be like his father." Hermione commented, fiercely biting into her sandwich and leaving it at that. Ron and Harry decided to also.
In Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, Professor Sprout seemed rather deflated. Even repotting Bubotuber plants didn't cheer her up. Countless times that class Harry played the 'if only' game. If only he had let Cedric take care of that Blast-Ended Skrewt on his own. If only he'd gotten to the trophy first, and not been a dense enough to debate with Cedric about touching it at the same time. If only that Hungarian Horntail had just finished Harry off right then, so many lives would be left unaffected.
'Now, you don't mean that.' insisted a little voice inside his head. 'Just as many people would have suffered if you had died at the claws of the Horntail. Don't fret about the past.' Of course it was easy enough for the voice to do, but for Harry the past was a much bigger load than it was on others. The-Boy-Who-Lived had certainly lived through a lot.
By the end of class, Harry was just as depressed as Professor Sprout, and Hermione and Ron had to talk about Quidditch all the way to their Transfiguration class before he brightened a bit.
"Welcome, fifth year students. This year you move on to Advanced Transfiguration, a thing you will find both extremely taxing, and extremely rewarding." Professor McGonagall lectured. Hermione looked like she couldn't wait to get on to the taxing part.
Their first task was a new and frightening one: they began lessons on Transfiguring their own bodies. After five rolls of parchment worth of notes, the severe witch told them to change their pinky fingers into twigs. It was an odd sensation, Harry's finger went ridged and turned brown, and that's all he could get it to do. Of course, Hermione sitting next to him was Transfiguring each finger into a different type of wood, even sprouting a pink flower from her index twig. But by the end of class, Harry had finally gotten it.
They walked down to the Great Hall for dinner together, Harry's finger still rather brown and knobby. He studied the Weasley twins across the table from him, wondering if they were capable of such a horrible thing. They certainly didn't feel sorry for Neville at all, after the mad partying they had done last night. But then the person about to become suspect number two walked by, whacking Harry smartly on the head.
"Ouch, Malfoy you klutz, watch where you're going!" Harry called after the retreating figure. The pale boy whipped around, clearly delighted that he'd been challenged.
"Oh really, a klutz? As in choking on a piece of your own dinner, Potter?" Malfoy asked acidly, doubling over and gagging himself. Hideous cackling ensued from the pack of Slytherins behind him, but Harry didn't flinch. How dare he make fun of Neville, he'd been cursed and almost died! Of course, that's exactly the sort of thing that would make prime comedy with those bunch of snobs.
Malfoy could have done it, Harry thought. After all, Dobby used to be his house-elf and might be bullied and guilted into placing the tainted tart on Harry's plate. That manipulative jerk was just capable of it.
Not feeling much like eating anymore, Harry excused himself and went upstairs to his dormitory. Now was the time for some serious Quidditch reading, he thought, as he opened Quidditch Through the Ages and read it for the thirtieth time. The familiar words acted like a pacifier, and in no time at all Harry Potter was fast asleep.
The next morning they had their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with the new Professor Callahan. "Hello my new pupils, I'm Professor Victoria Callahan, your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year. I know you might be thinking that a female teacher on such a 'manly' subject is absurd, and all you'll learn is fluff about bunny rabbits and rainbows. I'll have you know that that's the last thing I intend on doing. I'm tough as nails with a backbone of steel, so don't try to connive your way out of assignments and such." she addressed the class confidently. She was the kind of person that walked into a room and commanded respect. "Now, turn in your book The Rise and Fall of The Dark Lord to the introduction. I'm reading the opening paragraph."
"'Lord Voldemort preyed on the helpless, the weak, the ones who weren't taught how to defend themselves. He was the most powerful wizard of his time, and many refused to stand up to him because they figured they weren't able to win. How wrong they were. If only a band of heroes would have stood up to him in the beginning, while he still hadn't gathered much strength, they could have stopped so much disaster. But by the time they figured this out, he was too dominant and impressive by then.'" Professor Callahan closed the book and looked up at her students. "That is why I'm here. This year you'll learn to defend yourselves from various dark curses. I'm training the population of the future, so if Lord Voldemort or any of his followers ever rise again, this generation will know exactly how to deal with them." The classroom flinched as one body when she said the name of The Dark Lord, but her haunting speech got under their skin and coursed through their veins, inspiring every inch of them. This was going to be one great class, and probably more beneficial to Harry than any of his others combined. He'd probably had more contact with Voldemort than all of the most experienced aurors.
Like Hermione had said, they were going to learn about the Negraggiss Curse this year, along with many others. Professor Callahan told them about it's affect on people (Hermione had been right on the money, as always), and described the way to break through it.
"Neville Longbottom had been cursed with the Negraggiss. If he hadn't alerted Mr. Potter to his peril, he'd be dead right now." she declared solemnly. Many of the Gryffindors paled at this; and a few whispers told Harry that they just thought he'd choked on his food. After all, everyone wasn't as close to the action as Harry was and probably misunderstood his symptoms. Then something occurred to Harry, and he tentatively raised his hand.
"Professor Callahan?" he asked, and she nodded. "How did you know that it was the Negraggiss Curse?"
"Oh, after the Jectave Projection didn't work, I knew it must be a magical ailment. I used the Status Mystronos spell. When cast, the Status Mystronos lets the person know exactly what's wrong with someone. A very handy spell when you deal with as many Dark Curses as I do." she explained. Harry committed that to memory; most likely he'd need to use that spell in the near future.
After taking hurried notes on the Status Mystronos spell, it was time for lunch. Again Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to visit Neville in the hospital wing. Harry pulled a card out of his bag and set it on the table. He'd made it especially massive to take up the space from lack of cards. Ron set one on the table also, Harry had bullied him into making one.
Neville was still asleep, but his breathing didn't sound as raspy anymore and seemed a little less pale. Before they left, Madame Pomfrey informed them that Neville ought to be up and running in time for morning classes tomorrow. Significantly brightened by this news, lunch was a much cheerier affair that day.
The rather useful Defense Against the Dark Arts class was followed by the utterly worthless Divination. Ron and Harry made their way up the spiral staircase as Hermione gloated about running off to Ancient Runes. The thick smell of incense clogged their nostrils and fogged their minds as they entered Professor Trelawney's loft.
Ever since Harry's correct prediction of Buckbeak the Hippogriff's escape from death, Professor Trelawney had regarded him as some kind of sage. "Boy, you have the gift." she said for the millionth time, foreseeing his bloody demise to the whole class for the millionth time also. He and Ron took a pair of poufs near the back of the classroom and promptly fell asleep. If she ever caught them, which she rarely did, they just acted like they were getting a strong prophecy about their deaths and she was sufficiently suckered into it.
After their nice nap, Harry and Ron went downstairs to dinner. While Harry ate his roast, he studied the staff table. Snape was glaring at Professor Callahan with pure hatred, but she hadn't noticed yet. Wait. now those honey-colored eyes were looking right back at him. The slimeball's lips curled up into a smile reminiscent of a hungry coyote. She then picked up her plate and walked over to the Potions Master, taking the vacant seat next to him. Harry couldn't look away, he figured something worth watching was about to happen. She watched her lips say hello to Professor Snape, and surprisingly enough the nasty look wiped itself off his face. They chatted like two long lost friends, which was quite uninteresting, albeit phenomenal, to Harry. He'd been hoping for a knock down drag out fight.
This was weird, Snape being civil around the teacher who'd gotten his job. Was he secretly forming a plan to annihilate her? Were they in fact long lost friends? Or, this thought being the most far-fetched of all. did Snape, notorious for his cold, unfeeling attitude, fancy Victoria Callahan?
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A/N: Well, that was certainly a fun chapter. I had to invent two spells on my own, the Negraggiss Curse and Status Mystronos, and I'm quite proud if I do say so myself. Last chapter I wrote my own Sorting Song, and supply lists and everything. Wow, Ms. Rowling, now I know what you go through. Of course, when SHE writes, people actually READ her stuff. I can't seem to get above two measley readers. But I am eternally grateful to Rose Rovente and lazydaisy for reading. You're still reading, aren't you?! I sure hope so, or I'm writing this author's note right now and nobody will ever see it! Is all my hard work for naught? SIGH, ah well. Talk to you (if indeed anyone is out there) next chapter, due in three or four days. I'm becoming sluggish and lazy, so sue me.
Love from, Saranimal HaloGal5@aol.com
A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to lazydaisy for reviewing! By the by, I totally share your love of Harry Potter and Sean Biggerstaff. yummmmm *drooling* He could be my Gryffindor Keeper anyday (no perverted joke intended. okay, maybe a little. Wink wink, nudge nudge)
Yay, I'm not a total failure *breathes sigh of relief* Now, I know you're all dying to know how ol' Neville's doing. well, read on, noble viewer, read on!
Characters: Not mine. Plot: Totally mine. Tuna Sandwiches: Staying at least twelve feet away from me.
* * * * *
The whole Gryffindor table had no clue Neville Longbottom was dying. Swaying slightly in his chair, the panicked boy did the only thing he could; and fell right in Harry's lap. "What the -" Harry asked, looking bewilderedly down at Neville, who had used all the remaining strength he had to collapse.
"Quick, somebody help! Something's wrong with Neville!" Harry shrieked, trying to raise the boy off his lap. The whole hall fell silent at the tone of horror in his voice, and all eyes were turned to the scene.
The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher leapt up from the Staff Table and rushed over, wavy brown hair flowing out behind her, followed closely by Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall. "Jectave!" the new woman shouted, pointing her wand at Neville as she cast the wizarding version of the Heimlich manuver. Nothing happened. "Status Mystronos!" she shouted after a moment's evaluation, and her wand glowed red briefly as she closed her eyes. After only a second they snapped open again and she knelt down so close to Neville nobody could hear the spell she uttered.
Harry held his breath, hoping Neville wasn't. but before he could finish the ghastly thought, the teacher stood up again, looking grim.
"What is it, Professor Callahan?" McGonagall whispered fearfully.
"A suffocation curse, the Negraggiss. I've performed the counter-curse, but this boy's got to be taken to the Hospital Wing immediately. He's still not in the clear yet." The woman commanded expertly. At once Dumbledore picked up the boy, lying stiffly on the ground, and exited the Great Hall with McGonagall hurrying after him.
"I think the feast is officially over now, Prefects please lead your houses to their dormitories." The new Professor instructed, projecting her voice throughout the hall. Her sharp honey-colored eyes lingered on Harry, giving him a sympathetic look before she turned to usher along the terrified first years.
Back in the Gryffindor Tower Room, things were the normal party that they were on the first day back. Even Seamus Finnigan, who wasn't all that fond of Neville to start with, was cracking jokes about the incident. Harry, Ron, and Hermione huddled in a corner to discuss things quietly.
"What's the Negraggiss Curse, Hermione?" Harry asked, figuring that if anyone knew, she would.
"I've heard of it, not one of the Unforgivable Curses but pretty close. The victim gets panicky and tries to take quicker breaths, and that's how the curse works. If you try to gulp in air as fast as you can, your lungs seize up and you'll suffocate. There is a way to break through it though, if you calm yourself down and take slow, deep breaths, you'll survive." Hermione explained. "It's a curse we're supposed to learn about this year, but I've already read ahead several chapters."
"D'you think Neville'll be okay?" Ron croaked, evidently hit pretty hard.
"Sure, Madame Pomefry's got the cure for anything up there in the Hospital Wing. The thing I'm more worried about is where he got the curse. I don't remember anything, and I was sitting right next to him. Harry, what'd Neville do just before he fell over onto you?" Hermione asked, that official Sherlock Holmes-esque gleam in her eyes.
"I don't really remember, eating I suppose. I was talking to Ron abou - OH NO." Harry said, relaying them the events of that night.
"What, what is it? You remember something?" Hermione asked excitedly.
"There was some tiny little tart that just popped up on my plate unexpectedly, and dessert wasn't supposed to have been served yet. I figured it was just a present from Dobby or Winky from the kitchen. I wasn't all that hungry, so I gave it to Neville. That was the last thing I remember him doing before. it happened." Harry described. "You don't think it could've. do you?"
"I don't know, Harry, it is possible. But how could it get there?" Hermione answered his question with another question. Her statement was punctuated by Lee Jordan's yelp when a dessert he was eating made a lout POP! and disappeared.
"Oh, sorry Lee. A Popping Pastry must've gotten mixed in with those tarts." Fred said, clapping his frightened friend on the back. The three of them looked at each other, all thinking the same thing: could it have been the twins?
"Of course, it takes a very experienced witch or wizard to execute such a curse. It's very advanced Dark Magic." Hermione clarified. But there were still secret doubts hiding in their minds.
Classes began the next day, but they seemed incomplete, lacking Neville's nervous gibber. Charms was very boring without Professor Flitwick flying across the room, which was usually Neville's mistake by way of some wild spell. Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to go and visit their friend during lunch.
"Oh, hello Professor Dumbledore." Harry greeted, walking in the Hospital Wing and finding the headmaster sitting next to Neville's bed.
"Nice to see you Harry, Ron, Hermione. Come to visit?" the old wizard asked.
"Yeah, we've missed him." Harry answered. That was only part of the reason though; Harry also felt responsible for what happened. After all, it was his tart in the first place, and if he hadn't been so self-absorbed he would've noticed Neville's reaction.
"How's he doing?" Hermione asked, setting a homemade 'Get Well' card on the disturbingly bare table. Whenever Harry was in the hospital, which was quite often, two tables weren't nearly enough to hold all his gifts. Harry made a mental note to bring a card next visit.
"Been sleeping for eighteen hours straight, and you can count on eighteen more. His body is barely old enough to handle the curse. Much younger, or much more time without air, and he wouldn't've been as fortunate." Dumbledore said dolefully. That sobered the group up even more than they already were.
Suddenly Neville stirred and groaned in a raspy voice. "Harry, will you come with me to get another sleeping potion for Neville here?" Dumbledore asked. Harry followed the headmaster through the white double doors, and began scanning the vast shelves.
"So Professor Dumbledore, how's everything?" Harry asked, indicating how the fight against Voldemort was coming.
"It's a fine struggle, Harry. The meeting Sirius, Remus, and the rest of the crowd attended was an organization of strategy. We've got a number of taps in the Ministry, including Ron's father, who are keeping us posted on the goings on there. I get a hundred owls a day from various Ministry officials, asking what to do. Cornelius Fudge is pretty well just a figurehead now, hardly being allowed to make any decisions at all. Looks like I'm the undercover Minister of Magic." Dumbledore explained.
"Had any problems from Death Eaters yet?" Harry inquired.
"Just a few, but minor things compared to what Voldemort could do if he wanted. Childs play, a warm-up for what's coming. Professor Snape hasn't been discovered as a spy yet, and is attending Death Eater Meetings once a week. He isn't trusted enough to be let in the inner circle of The Dark Lord's officers though. But still, he's our most important link in winning this fight." The headmaster answered. Harry always appreciated the way he wasn't treated like a child during these discussions.
"Right now, our hands are tied. Voldemort's got the first move, and we can't do anything until he's willing. The best we can manage is preparing for the many courses of action he could take." Dumbledore continued. Harry thought a look of worry and protection passed over the old man's face as he gazed at the child, but it was gone so quickly Harry wondered if it was even there to begin with.
Returning to the bedside, Dumbledore gingerly poured the liquid down Neville's propped open mouth. Instantly a look of peace and rest came over his face and he lay still. Promising to come back the next day, the three friends left the Hospital Wing and traipsed down to the Great Hall for some lunch.
"I feel so sorry for Neville." Hermione began, but stopped short when the sneering face of Draco Malfoy rounded the corner.
"Well if it isn't Potty and the Weasel, with Mangy Grangy tagging along." Malfoy's lip curled up unpleasantly.
"Shove it, Malfoy, or later you might just be singing a different tune." Hermione retorted scathingly, before marching away sassily. Harry and Ron savored Malfoy's outraged face before running along behind her.
"Gee Hermione, you've certainly got it out for Malfoy all of a sudden." Ron remarked, sitting down beside her while a corned beef sandwich popped up on his plate.
"I've decided not to let him push me around this year. That prat's got to learn his lesson sometime, before he grows up to be like his father." Hermione commented, fiercely biting into her sandwich and leaving it at that. Ron and Harry decided to also.
In Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, Professor Sprout seemed rather deflated. Even repotting Bubotuber plants didn't cheer her up. Countless times that class Harry played the 'if only' game. If only he had let Cedric take care of that Blast-Ended Skrewt on his own. If only he'd gotten to the trophy first, and not been a dense enough to debate with Cedric about touching it at the same time. If only that Hungarian Horntail had just finished Harry off right then, so many lives would be left unaffected.
'Now, you don't mean that.' insisted a little voice inside his head. 'Just as many people would have suffered if you had died at the claws of the Horntail. Don't fret about the past.' Of course it was easy enough for the voice to do, but for Harry the past was a much bigger load than it was on others. The-Boy-Who-Lived had certainly lived through a lot.
By the end of class, Harry was just as depressed as Professor Sprout, and Hermione and Ron had to talk about Quidditch all the way to their Transfiguration class before he brightened a bit.
"Welcome, fifth year students. This year you move on to Advanced Transfiguration, a thing you will find both extremely taxing, and extremely rewarding." Professor McGonagall lectured. Hermione looked like she couldn't wait to get on to the taxing part.
Their first task was a new and frightening one: they began lessons on Transfiguring their own bodies. After five rolls of parchment worth of notes, the severe witch told them to change their pinky fingers into twigs. It was an odd sensation, Harry's finger went ridged and turned brown, and that's all he could get it to do. Of course, Hermione sitting next to him was Transfiguring each finger into a different type of wood, even sprouting a pink flower from her index twig. But by the end of class, Harry had finally gotten it.
They walked down to the Great Hall for dinner together, Harry's finger still rather brown and knobby. He studied the Weasley twins across the table from him, wondering if they were capable of such a horrible thing. They certainly didn't feel sorry for Neville at all, after the mad partying they had done last night. But then the person about to become suspect number two walked by, whacking Harry smartly on the head.
"Ouch, Malfoy you klutz, watch where you're going!" Harry called after the retreating figure. The pale boy whipped around, clearly delighted that he'd been challenged.
"Oh really, a klutz? As in choking on a piece of your own dinner, Potter?" Malfoy asked acidly, doubling over and gagging himself. Hideous cackling ensued from the pack of Slytherins behind him, but Harry didn't flinch. How dare he make fun of Neville, he'd been cursed and almost died! Of course, that's exactly the sort of thing that would make prime comedy with those bunch of snobs.
Malfoy could have done it, Harry thought. After all, Dobby used to be his house-elf and might be bullied and guilted into placing the tainted tart on Harry's plate. That manipulative jerk was just capable of it.
Not feeling much like eating anymore, Harry excused himself and went upstairs to his dormitory. Now was the time for some serious Quidditch reading, he thought, as he opened Quidditch Through the Ages and read it for the thirtieth time. The familiar words acted like a pacifier, and in no time at all Harry Potter was fast asleep.
The next morning they had their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with the new Professor Callahan. "Hello my new pupils, I'm Professor Victoria Callahan, your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year. I know you might be thinking that a female teacher on such a 'manly' subject is absurd, and all you'll learn is fluff about bunny rabbits and rainbows. I'll have you know that that's the last thing I intend on doing. I'm tough as nails with a backbone of steel, so don't try to connive your way out of assignments and such." she addressed the class confidently. She was the kind of person that walked into a room and commanded respect. "Now, turn in your book The Rise and Fall of The Dark Lord to the introduction. I'm reading the opening paragraph."
"'Lord Voldemort preyed on the helpless, the weak, the ones who weren't taught how to defend themselves. He was the most powerful wizard of his time, and many refused to stand up to him because they figured they weren't able to win. How wrong they were. If only a band of heroes would have stood up to him in the beginning, while he still hadn't gathered much strength, they could have stopped so much disaster. But by the time they figured this out, he was too dominant and impressive by then.'" Professor Callahan closed the book and looked up at her students. "That is why I'm here. This year you'll learn to defend yourselves from various dark curses. I'm training the population of the future, so if Lord Voldemort or any of his followers ever rise again, this generation will know exactly how to deal with them." The classroom flinched as one body when she said the name of The Dark Lord, but her haunting speech got under their skin and coursed through their veins, inspiring every inch of them. This was going to be one great class, and probably more beneficial to Harry than any of his others combined. He'd probably had more contact with Voldemort than all of the most experienced aurors.
Like Hermione had said, they were going to learn about the Negraggiss Curse this year, along with many others. Professor Callahan told them about it's affect on people (Hermione had been right on the money, as always), and described the way to break through it.
"Neville Longbottom had been cursed with the Negraggiss. If he hadn't alerted Mr. Potter to his peril, he'd be dead right now." she declared solemnly. Many of the Gryffindors paled at this; and a few whispers told Harry that they just thought he'd choked on his food. After all, everyone wasn't as close to the action as Harry was and probably misunderstood his symptoms. Then something occurred to Harry, and he tentatively raised his hand.
"Professor Callahan?" he asked, and she nodded. "How did you know that it was the Negraggiss Curse?"
"Oh, after the Jectave Projection didn't work, I knew it must be a magical ailment. I used the Status Mystronos spell. When cast, the Status Mystronos lets the person know exactly what's wrong with someone. A very handy spell when you deal with as many Dark Curses as I do." she explained. Harry committed that to memory; most likely he'd need to use that spell in the near future.
After taking hurried notes on the Status Mystronos spell, it was time for lunch. Again Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to visit Neville in the hospital wing. Harry pulled a card out of his bag and set it on the table. He'd made it especially massive to take up the space from lack of cards. Ron set one on the table also, Harry had bullied him into making one.
Neville was still asleep, but his breathing didn't sound as raspy anymore and seemed a little less pale. Before they left, Madame Pomfrey informed them that Neville ought to be up and running in time for morning classes tomorrow. Significantly brightened by this news, lunch was a much cheerier affair that day.
The rather useful Defense Against the Dark Arts class was followed by the utterly worthless Divination. Ron and Harry made their way up the spiral staircase as Hermione gloated about running off to Ancient Runes. The thick smell of incense clogged their nostrils and fogged their minds as they entered Professor Trelawney's loft.
Ever since Harry's correct prediction of Buckbeak the Hippogriff's escape from death, Professor Trelawney had regarded him as some kind of sage. "Boy, you have the gift." she said for the millionth time, foreseeing his bloody demise to the whole class for the millionth time also. He and Ron took a pair of poufs near the back of the classroom and promptly fell asleep. If she ever caught them, which she rarely did, they just acted like they were getting a strong prophecy about their deaths and she was sufficiently suckered into it.
After their nice nap, Harry and Ron went downstairs to dinner. While Harry ate his roast, he studied the staff table. Snape was glaring at Professor Callahan with pure hatred, but she hadn't noticed yet. Wait. now those honey-colored eyes were looking right back at him. The slimeball's lips curled up into a smile reminiscent of a hungry coyote. She then picked up her plate and walked over to the Potions Master, taking the vacant seat next to him. Harry couldn't look away, he figured something worth watching was about to happen. She watched her lips say hello to Professor Snape, and surprisingly enough the nasty look wiped itself off his face. They chatted like two long lost friends, which was quite uninteresting, albeit phenomenal, to Harry. He'd been hoping for a knock down drag out fight.
This was weird, Snape being civil around the teacher who'd gotten his job. Was he secretly forming a plan to annihilate her? Were they in fact long lost friends? Or, this thought being the most far-fetched of all. did Snape, notorious for his cold, unfeeling attitude, fancy Victoria Callahan?
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A/N: Well, that was certainly a fun chapter. I had to invent two spells on my own, the Negraggiss Curse and Status Mystronos, and I'm quite proud if I do say so myself. Last chapter I wrote my own Sorting Song, and supply lists and everything. Wow, Ms. Rowling, now I know what you go through. Of course, when SHE writes, people actually READ her stuff. I can't seem to get above two measley readers. But I am eternally grateful to Rose Rovente and lazydaisy for reading. You're still reading, aren't you?! I sure hope so, or I'm writing this author's note right now and nobody will ever see it! Is all my hard work for naught? SIGH, ah well. Talk to you (if indeed anyone is out there) next chapter, due in three or four days. I'm becoming sluggish and lazy, so sue me.
Love from, Saranimal HaloGal5@aol.com