Geez, what fun does that look like? Reading that thing before going to bed!
Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter à l'école des sorciers, page 217
ANSWERS TO THE ALMIGHTY THIRD COUSINS TWICE REMOVED OF THE REVIEWERS:
Auroress 13: I don't call it getting off subject. I call it letting my mind wander for humoristic purposes… ^_^. I did, ain't I nice?
Shireen Mclean: *Bows* thank you, thank you, it's a gift. No, really. I was surprised myself. ^_-. I've elaborated on it, yes, it might come up a bit later, yes. But it's also a bit of character development: Slytherin Harry is not as naïve as Griffy Harry. That was beaten out of him quickly. Yes, we're all a little psycho. But I know people who are very psycho ^_-. I guess we have one more thing in common then, I can't stand babies either. Little kids over 8, yes. Under, the sky will turn purple with orange polka dots before I enjoy time with them. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not father material at all -_-.
VMorticia: Glad you liked it… yes, my sense of humor and sarcasm amaze even me. ^_- Eek, okay, my room isn't THAT bad… though I was certain I heard a giant mutated ant growl from somewhere under my bed… Ugh. Sorry. That's what happens when translators change the name of objects. Bertie crochue… *sigh*. And it was a metaphor, Draco. Now stop annoying your author, she'll write more slowly ^_-. As for the poem, well… I thought it up and wrote it in about a minute… it was very rushed.
Cynical Slytherin: Dedicated reader, eh? I'll try to write faster, just for you ^_-.
Kattis Potter Black: Ah, a simple review, but so beautiful… brings a tear to my eye… *sniff* ^_- Thanks!
Additional thanks to VMorticia, who agreed to Beta this while my original beta is having computer problems.
Chapter 8: Students Returning and Quidditch Referees
A thick snow blanket covered the grounds of Hogwarts when the train returned, a day before classes started again. When Hermione came out, it was with an air of relief, as if she had been afraid the wizarding world had been only a dream. As for Draco, trumpets and drums might as well have followed. Harry wouldn't have been surprised in the boy started yelling "Tremble, mortals! Draco Malfoy is here!" in a deep, echoing demonic voice.
Harry, Blaise and Weasley were all waiting near the gates of the castle. Hermione gave a look at the three and gawked.
"Ron? I thought you hated Slytherins!"
"I—I do!"
"Oh, I'm hurt, Ronniekins." Blaise taunted, grinning, in a false 'Disbelieving lady' air that was totally unrealistic when said by a 11 years old. "What about last night? Was it just a one-night stand?" The red-eared red-head shot her a withering glare that left her completely, totally and incredibly unfazed.
Hermione burst out laughing, and was still laughing when Draco arrived, flanked as always by Crabbe and Goyle.
"Hey Harry! Hey Blaise!" He said, smirking, turning to Weasley. "What happened? Decided your family and Gryffindor friends were too simple-minded and lacked the ambition to become prosper in life?"
"No." Ron said, his ears reddening in anger at his family being insulted.
"Pity for you then." Draco said with a shrug, walking in the castle with the other two Slytherins.
"Later Hermione!" Harry said, before looking at Weasley. "Same to you, Weasley!"
The bushy-haired girl waved the five other first years goodbye, before turning to Ron and asking with a smile and a slightly amused tone:
"What was that all about?"
They entered the Slytherin common room and sat down near the fire, Draco doing a show of sprawling himself on the sofa, smirking. In the dim light of the common room, one would have easily mistook him either for a vampire with glowing hair or a walking and taunting flashlight – Both of which were possible with a bit of magic. He turned to his friends and gave them an odd, questioning look.
"What was Weasley doing with you two?"
"Open your ears, Draco, it's time for a newsflash." Harry said, before plunging himself in the story of the winter break…
"…can't believe how much I missed." Draco said. "I guess even Weasley has his uses."
"Happens to everyone at least once in their lives." Harry said.
"Too bad for Weasley then." Blaise added, creating chuckles all around. "How was your holiday, Draco?"
Draco yawned theatrically, spread himself out on the couch and smirked tiredly at Blaise before answering in a drawl. "Boring. The manor was full of guests I didn't know, all dressed in gloomy black robes. It looked more like a funeral than a Christmas party, that's for sure."
"And they stayed the whole holidays?"
Draco nodded. "At least Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy were there, so I wasn't too bored to death."
"Those three came and we couldn't?" Harry asked, giving him an odd look.
Draco gave Harry a nervous look he only rarely showed. "Well… no. You couldn't. I have nothing against either of you, but my parents certainly will."
Harry nodded, understanding. The words Draco had said at the start of winter came back to his mind.
"Your name is liked by most, not all."
But what could they find on Blaise?
And, more importantly, why would Mr. Malfoy hate him?
The Gryffindor team's Quidditch match against Hufflepuff ended in a solid victory for Gryffindor that put them back in the race. The week afterwards would be the Slytherin match against Ravenclaw, who, as Flint said, relied mostly on disorienting aerial Chaser techniques. Their seeker was an utter failure, however.
"Checkmate." Draco said, grinning triumphantly.
Blaise gave a wide-eyed look at the checkboard before her while her pieces groaned loudly and berated at her – "I told you to send me to blast that rook 3 turns ago! Did you listen? Nooo!" scolded the tower – and glared at the platinum-haired boy.
"I am the top chess player of the school." He said, not without a touch of vanity.
"From what Hermione told me, Weasley's pretty good too." Blaise said.
"Really? I'll have to disillusion him later." Draco said as the low rumble of the door opening took their attention toward the entrance of the common room.
Flint strode in, wearing a victorious smirk, his eyes shining like headlights with happiness. He walked straight to Harry, giving signs at the other members of the Quidditch team, making them come over.
Once everyone was in a circle around Flint, the burly boy decided to drop the bomb on them. Figuratively of course, since he didn't want to kill his team before the match. Afterwards was a fair game, though.
"Snape decided to referee the next match. Probably used another one of his favors on Dumbledore." The captain said with an excited tone in his voice. Harry felt a pang at his heart, remembering what had happened at his last match, with Snape trying to curse his broom.
The captain continued his tirade. "And you know what that means, right?"
"That means we win, no matter what!!" Bole said with a smirk.
Flint shot him a deathly 'Did you ask my permission to take your first breath, idiot?' glare, prompting him to shut (the hell) up.
"Yes, as Bole so bluntly said it, we win. That is, unless that Seeker of theirs catches the snitch."
The look Flint gave Harry at this moment was probably intended as motivation. And, while it certainly worked, the word intimidation would fit it a lot better.
"I doubt our Harry's gonna miss the snitch." Blaise said, tapping the black-haired boy's back with a smirk. However, Harry could see it was forced. She knew as well.
"If he does, then he's definitely off the team." Flint warned, glaring at her. The girl squeaked and hid behind Draco, who looked afraid he would turn his 'instant death glare, just add water' at him.
To his luck, Flint turned back toward Harry. "Just don't do aerial acrobatics this time. The Ravenclaws are set to win, they're not the stupid noble idiots that the Gryffindors are."
"Yeah, yeah." Harry said, eager to get the captain away from him. "I'll catch that snitch even if it's the last thing I do."
Flint seemed satisfied; it did indeed look like what he wanted. Apparently, he didn't give a damn about his players' lives, he just wanted to win.
And that was exactly the philosophy of another student in the common room, who looked at the captain's words like a divine revelation that came on an express from heaven.
…like anything that came out of Flint's mouth could be qualified as such.
Later that day, Harry, Blaise and Draco went to a quiet corner of the common room, the practically always empty 'dark corner', the coldest place of the dungeons. They spoke in quiet, hushed voices that were expected from this place.
"Guys, I'm a bit worried about this." Blaise said. "I mean, Snape tried to throw Harry off his broom last match!"
"He did, too." Harry said, remembering. "Good thing that Gryffindor chaser was there."
"That's you, falling all over the girls at eleven. Can't wait to see what you turn up like." Draco said with a smirk. Harry shot him a mock glare.
"Ah yes, I can see it now." Blaise continued with a false look of concentration. "Harry Potter, the womanizer, using his fame and fortune to win poor, innocent girls' hearts."
"Oi, shut up, both of you." Harry said, blushing not just a bit. "The thing is, I want one of you to keep watch on Snape during the match, in case he tries again."
"I don't think it was him." Draco said. "I think it was Quirrell."
"Y-y-yeah r-right." Blaise stuttered in a mocking imitation of the aforementioned teacher. "As if he can stop muttering long enough to do a single incantation."
"W-W-Ing-gar-d-diu-ium L-lev-lis-eviosa!" Harry imitated with a grin, causing laughs around the corner, causing few students to look their way.
"We'll watch Snape during the match, Harry." Blaise said.
"Yeah, just in case I'm wrong… though I'm sure it's Quirrell." Draco added. "I want to test out that 'Incendio' hex mom taught us during the holidays.
Snape didn't look too nervous. In fact, he was exactly his normal, if unsupportable self. He handed them the results for their potions. Surprisingly, Harry had a good grade. He had expected much, much less than eighty percent. On the other hand, Hermione looked like she had just seen an army of Gorgons getting hair-care, while listening to a choir of Banshees singing a duo with a Nundu, breath included. In a word, mortified.
"It's gonna break my average!" she moaned.
The following week passed quickly. The trio made it a habit to go to the library every day after supper, meeting the two Gryffindors there and working on Nicholas Flamel. They had found only vague references, including one that claimed the man had lived in the 1600s in History of Europe's magical world.
"Probably another guy named the same way, nobody lives that long." Draco said.
It because obvious Blaise and Hermione were becoming quick friends. Through their differences, they could use each other's strengths to help the other. Hermione, while brilliant, was totally unable of sneakiness, something Blaise easily had in overdose.
"She certainly can hold a conversation better than the two Neanderthals you two have for dorm mates," She replied good naturedly when Draco had teased her for being too friendly to a Gryffindor. "And anyways, she comes from the muggle world, like me. So she isn't talking only about magical stuff. Her two dorm mates are pure-bloods like mine, so they're completely lost. She's getting sick of it, too."
"I'm not lost in the muggle world…" Harry said.
"You're probably the only pure-blood in school who knows anything about the muggle-world." Blaise said, giving him a smile.
"Yay for me then." He replied dryly, thinking of the price he paid for that knowledge.
****
"We have to continue looking! I'm sure we'll find it today!" Hermione said in a voice that probably wanted itself hopeful, but was more desperate than anything else.
"'mione, we've spent every free moment we had during the last two months in the library and we still haven't found anything!" Weasley sighed in exasperation.
"I think Pince is thinking of opening us a private bedroom here." Draco added
"I'm sure it's around here somewhere…" Hermione said. Her voice sounded panicked, as if just realizing it is possible that the library didn't have the answer sometimes. A scary concept for her.
"Forget it, Hermione." Harry said, patting her back. "Let's take a break today, 'kay?"
She seemed to hesitate, but before the combined looks of everyone present, her stubbornness crumbled into fine, A-quality dust.
"Ooh, all right."
And so, the group left the library. Outside the windows, the sky had a beautiful orange shade and was getting darker. They found an empty classroom, probably left unused for years, and started relaxing there. Blaise opened the content of her bag and revealed dozens of sweets of all kinds.
"..don't you ever run out, Blaise?" Harry asked, eying the candies that Weasley and Draco were already separating into two neat piles: 'Eaten' and 'to be eaten'.
"Nope." She replied with a cheerful grin.
By the time the sun was nearly gone, the group had managed, in record times, to clean up the bags of Bertie Bott's beans – to which Harry suspected Draco had found a way to separate the good from the bad, since Weasley kept falling on sarcastically delicious flavors such as Goblin blood, asphalt, dirt and spider leg – and most of the others. Only two boxes of chocolate frogs were left.
Draco took one and Blaise the other, both of them defending themselves as she was the one who had brought it and that he was just too lovable; the frogs loved him. Weasley and Hermione both shot Draco a look that clearly said "Yeah right.". A look that was thoroughly ignored.
"So, what do you think are your chances for the Quidditch match?" Hermione asked.
Harry grinned. "You know I can't say that to people of the other houses… but let's just say that Snape is gonna be the referee, so…"
Weasley choose this moment to spit out, in a moment of surprise, the only good bean he had managed to get – chocolate, a bean that he had hesitated to take due to his luck – into Blaise's face.
"Snape is the referee?!?" He gasped, ignoring the death glare from the dark red-haired girl.
"Yes, you're not quite deaf yet, he is." Draco said proudly, ripping the frog's head off and watching it spasm it's last movements.
"That means Slytherin wins." Weasley sighed, almost ignoring Draco's taunt. .
"Exactly… Aww man, another Dumbledore." Draco sighed, looking at the card. He threw it on the table, straight in front of Hermione, who picked it up.
"'course, I still have to catch the Snitch, but that wont be a probl—" "Guys, listen to this!!" Hermione interrupted Harry, who shot her a 'let me finish one day, will you?' look. She didn't see it, her wide and surprised eyes were locked on the card.
"Yeah, yeah, it's a card of Dumbledore. So what?" Draco said, his booted foot finding it's way on the table.
She glared at him a 'shut up!!' and turned back to the card.
"Albus Dumbledore, currently Headmaster of Hogwarts. Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindewald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel." She stopped reading and looked up at them, a look that promised certain boredom. The 'eureka' look.
"I gotta get something, I'll be right back." She said so quickly it sounded like 'I Gotget smthah'll be rabah'
She grabbed her bag and dashed off toward the library, coming back in record time, out of breath and carrying a huge book.
"I am such an idiot!" She said, walking in the empty classroom, probably having no idea of his silly she sounded. Her? An idiot? Yeah, and Crabbe and Goyle are rocket scientists feel sorry for the astronauts, everyone. "I should have remembered! Listen here:
"The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the
Philosopher's Stone, a ledgendary substance with astonishing powers. The
Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir
of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports
of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently
in existence belongs to Mr Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and
opera-lover. Mr Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth
birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle
(six hundred and fifty-eight)."
Everyone was silent. Weasley whistled.
"That's some rock." He said. "Infinite money and eternal life… I want one."
Draco grinned, then chuckled, a chuckle that turned into a laugh. The others looked at him like he had sprouted two blue and pink-haired heads that promptly declared themselves Napoleon at the same time and started bickering about which one was the real one.
"What's with him?" Hermione asked.
"He's gone totally nutters." Weasley replied, twirling a finger around his ear and pulling out his tongue.
"Nice face, Weasley." Blaise said with a smirk. "With a bit of luck, it'll stay that way, which would be an improvement."
As Weasley's ears took a bright tint of red, Draco's laughs calmed a bit and he grinned, looking at everyone.
"Don't you find it ironic? We spend weeks trying to find stuff on that guy, and the one day we don't look, we find it."
"Yeah, well at least now we don't need to spend another evening on this." Harry said with a chuckle.
"I wouldn't mind looking for another wizard using the method we just used though." Blaise said, popping the foot of her chocolate frog in her mouth while everyone laughed.
The date of the match came quickly. Some kind of wicked belt called Anxiety found it's way into Harry's chest to ensnare his heart, getting tighter with every passing moment. No matter how hard he tried to take it out through thinking of something else than the looming broomstick-shaped menace, it just wouldn't work. Flint drilling them in tactics wasn't helping, and neither were the 'encouraging' taps on his back and wishes of good luck.
"Hey, Potter…" Said a boy's voice the day just before the match, during supper.
It was Terence Higgs, the precedent seeker. He was smiling at him, holding a bottle of golden-brown liquid.
Slytherin code of conduct rules 55 and 56: When someone pat you in the back, check for a knife. The larger the smile, the sharper the knife.
"Ever tried Butterbeer?" He asked, showing the bottle. "It's great."
"Um.. no." Harry replied, mindful. Higgs had been the seeker before him, and was now offering him something to drink. Suspicious wasn't quite the word.
Higgs filled up two cups and picked one of them up, smiling at Harry. "You ready for the match tomorrow?"
"Yeah.. aren't you mad at me for taking your position?"
The older boy shook his head. "Naa. I've seen you play. You're very good, for a firstie. Better than me, actually!"
Harry picked up the cup. Higgs looked and sounded sincere enough.
"To Slytherin?" the older boy proposed.
"To Slytherin." Harry agreed, smiling and tapping their glasses. He brought the cup to his lips, but kept them closed until he noticed Higgs really was drinking. Figuring it was safe enough, he drank and drained it. While it certainly tasted delicious, he was still a bit wary. Had he just made a mistake?
…something told him that yes.
'Ground, swallow me whole. Now. ……please? Pretty please with sugar and cherries on top?'
But the stubborn ground would not listen the poor Seeker and, the next day, he found himself on his broomstick, hovering a dozen feet above the ground, waiting for Hooch to blow her whistle.
(A/N: Erm… Gotta get my mind out of the gutter… ^_^';;;;)
Hooch was giving her traditional speech to the two captains, who both looked bored out of their minds. At least Flint was. The Ravenclaw captain, one of the chasers, gave a nervous look at Snape, who was hovering some distance away from them.
"I want a clean match—" 'This time', Harry mentally added. "—understand? That goes especially for you, Flint. Don't your team dare cheat."
"Of course not." Flint said in false innocence. It looked about as sincere as a stray, alley cat knocking at a mouse's door and saying "Don't worry, I'm not hungry."
Hooch apparently thought so, because she shot him a piercing glare that left him unfazed. With a sigh and probably wondering why she was letting the Slytherins play, she released the balls and blew her whistle.
Immediately, the match was on. Harry blocked out Jordan's (as usual) biased comments and immediately flew up, the snitch vanishing immediately upon it's release. The sky was clear blue and there was barely any wind, a completely still spring day. Patches of yellowed grass and mudded dirt could be seen peeking out of the melting blanket of snow. From high above, it was a beautiful sight.
Harry's musings were cut short as a Bludger whizzed an inch in front of his face. He stopped high above the action and started looking around. The other seeker, a respectably large sixth year boy who would have been better placed as beater, flew in circles around the pitch, not an exactly bad seeking technique, but not excellent either, since one tended not to look long enough to actually find anything.
The Slytherin chasers were passing the quaffle very quickly between themselves, confusing the Ravenclaws out of their usually tricky chaser techniques. However, their keeper was evidently very practiced; during the first ten minutes, the Slytherins shot at least 10 times, but none of them managed to go through, even with feints and last-minute passes.
As the Slytherin code of conduct says, if fair means have failed you, it's time to resort to fowl.
Two Bludgers rammed simultaneously in the keeper's stomach as soon as Flint was close enough to shoot. The Ravenclaw player fell out of the sky and into the sand like a bag of potatoes, obviously hurt. Flint shot at the goals and Snape whistled a time out only after the goal was counted.
"The Ravenclaw team rushes to their keeper's help while the counter shows 10 to 0 Slytherin, after an absolutely scandalous act of bias from the referee—"
"Jordan, do not badmouth a teacher!"
"Ok, ok, even if he is a lying and cheating creep. Well, it looks like the keeper's all right and is back in the game…" Jordan's tone was suddenly nervous, as if McGonagall had started glaring at him. Which she probably had.
Harry almost cheered for Jordan, completely agreeing with him. Although he didn't mind the fact that Snape was helping him, for once in his life. He turned to look around for the snitch while the other seeker was busy helping his teammate back on his broom.
…that's when it happened.
A searing pain, striking him as suddenly as a snake, starting in his stomach and spreading to his chest, hit him. He buckled on his broom, gritting his teeth and groaning in agony. He clenched his knees and fists on the broom, both to avoid falling and to take away the pain.
It dimmed a bit, but was still present and heavily uncomfortable.
Blaise looked up at her friend in worry. Something was wrong, she knew it. Beside her, Hermione was mumbling something about 'Crazy balls that shouldn't be allowed in a game' while looking at the Ravenclaw keeper. Draco and Weasley were arguing again, with Crabbe and Goyle glaring at the red-head, who had pretty much been forced to assist at the match
None of them had noticed, she thought grimly. Maybe she was just imagining things.
"If you don't catch that snitch, you're off the team"
With those words of 'wisdom' from Flint in mind, Harry began looking for the fourth ball again. The game was back and nobody had noticed his problem yet.
"Pass to Montague, Ravenclaw in possession, another pass, intercepted by Flint, look at that Bludger fly! Ouch! Hope he broke his jaw… just kidding, professor! Pucey has the quaffle and… is that the snitch?!"
Harry whirled around and looked at the action. Sure enough, the snitch was there, flying in between the mass of players who had let the quaffle drop, which Flint immediately grabbed and tried to make a replay of the last match, but was stopped by the keeper this time.
The other seeker had just turned around that Harry dived at his top speed, aiming for the snitch. Just then, the pain got worse; instead of a burning feeling, it now felt like someone had slammed a burned white iron inside his stomach and started playing around with it. He felt like he could breathe fire, how his lungs felt like they were burning. One hand clutching his stomach, he willed his eyes open and continued chasing the snitch. He was at grabbing distance now.
He let go of the broom. His knees, feeling weak and unsteady, were the only things held him in the air, one of his hands still clutching his stomach, the other one stretched ahead of him toward the snitch. With a yell, he caught the snitch, before noticing the way he had been going. Straight toward the teachers' stands. With all the strength he could muster, he veered left, nearly topping Quirrell's turban off his head. His new trajectory got him straight toward Hogwarts, and to his dismay, the pain started up again as he was about to change direction.
With a sound of shattering glass, he fell unconscious.
Sorry to cut it short here, but it makes PLENNNTY of time I didn't update!! ^_-
"When someone pat you in the back, check for a knife. The larger the smile, the sharper the knife." These two quotes belong to VMorticia, brilliant authoress of "And the hat said Slytherin". Go check her out! And the Slytherin code of conduct, too.
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