Disclaimer: Should have done this earlier, but, oh well! I don't
own anything that has to do with Harry Potter. I don't even own the idea,
I was just in charge of writing the third book in the Altered Trilogy! So,
umm, don't sue I guess!
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Chapter Three
"Define everything," Laura said.
"Excuse me?" Dumbledore asked.
"The word everything covers a lot of terrain, which part would you like to hear?" Laura explained.
"The part that involves Hogwarts," Dumbledore told her with a twinkle in his eye.
"Oh, well, in other words everything," Lisa remarked. "You can't exactly tell him about what we're doing here unless you tell him about all the other places we went to." Dumbledore smiled.
"Lisa," I began, but stopped. It didn't seem right to call her simpleminded when she had a point, at least not anymore.
"Courtney, why don't you begin?" Dumbledore offered.
"No," I refused, shaking my head. That was all. No explanation, no excuse. And no one asked. Instead, I sat silently and listened to Lisa and Laura tell our story, but occasionally filled in some of the details.
When we finished Dumbledore was silent for a time. He peered at us over his half-moon spectacles again. It wasn't a look that made you feel uncomfortable, or that you were in trouble. It simply made you aware that he was looking at you and taking you and your words into consideration. Finally, he said, "That's quite an amazing story." We all nodded our agreement.
Dumbledore stood up and began to pace the room. "As you get settled into your houses," he began, "you will make friends. Now, as much as you may want to share your story, I must ask you not to. I also must ask you not to alter anything. What is meant to happen will, fate will take its hand in whatever lies ahead. Do not try to change anything to the way that you would want it. It can only ruin things."
We sat in silence. We knew this, of course, but we had always gone against it. Now, here was someone telling us that we couldn't change anything, even if it meant saving someone's life. There was no way. We were in the book for a reason, there had to be a reason. If the reason just so happened to be saving someone's life, then we would surely overlook this conversation.
Wouldn't we?
Still, no one was saying anything.
"How, may I ask, did you get home from these other worlds?" Dumbledore asked suddenly. For the first time since the sorting, we all looked at each other. Then, as one, we all gave him an answer.
"Death."
He seemed shocked.
"Death?" he inquired as if to make sure he was hearing right. We all nodded.
Suddenly there came a knock at the door. "Enter," Dumbledore said. Professor McGonagall entered the room.
"Professor Dumbledore," she said, "it's getting rather late. I believe the girls should go to their dormitories."
"Ah, so it is rather late," Dumbledore agreed. "Yes, I believe you're right Professor. Will there be someone to escort them?"
"Yes," Professor McGonagall replied.
"Very well, off you go then girls," Dumbledore told us. We all stood, said our good-byes, and exited the chamber.
In the corridor, Professors Sprout, Snape, and McGonagall waited to take us to our dormitories. We all said goodnight and went our own ways: Laura with Professor Sprout, Lisa with Professor Snape, and me with Professor McGonagall.
The trip to Gryffindor tower was a silent one. I could see Professor McGonagall glancing at me out of the corner of my eye. I wished she would go away, but I didn't know my way to Gryffindor tower, so I figured it was a good thing she was there. Finally, after what seemed like years but was probably only minutes, Professor McGonagall was telling me the password ("Caput Draconis") and where the girls' dormitories were located ("...up the stairs to your right."), and then she left me to get some sleep. I walked inside and found that the common room was, amazingly, empty. Everyone must have been really tired.
I made my way up the spiral staircase and found the door to the girls' dormitories. I opened it and everyone in the room looked up at me, Hermione being one of them. "Hi, sorry I'm late," I told them. They shrugged and looked away from me. There were five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. The trunks had already been brought up, I saw, and I was the only person who hadn't unpacked.
I was sharing a room with Hermione, Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, and some girl named Jennifer Dipple, not the most pleasing of combinations. I knelt down and began taking things out of my trunk. I came across a wand, which I held in my hand for quite some time. Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy, I thought to myself. Then, startled, I dropped the wand back into my trunk. How did I know that? I had never actually been in Diagon Alley, been in Ollivanders. Had I? No, it was impossible. I tried to shrug it off, but it was too crazy. I tried to at least act like nothing weird had happened.
I continued unpacking.
I pulled out pajamas, some spare robes, a hat, winter accessories, etc. I then realized that my owl was missing. It took a moment to register that she was probably in the owlery with all of the others. I changed into my pajamas, deciding to leave the rest of my unpacking for another time, and climbed into the bed that had apparently been left for me. To bring myself down from the high I had been in since I had arrived, I brushed my hair and absently gazed off into nothingness. The lights had been turned off without me noticing much. I laid my brush on the table beside my bed, pulled my curtains shut, and rested my head on my pillow.
I thought about a lot of things before I finally fell asleep. I wondered what Lisa and Laura were doing; I tried to calculate how long we had been gone from home (about a second) and then stifled a laugh. I wondered if anyone in the theater had seen us disappear. I turned over and lay on my back. I began to think about our past two "adventures". Animorphs was my least favorite by a landslide, I mean, where's the nobility in falling out of a tree to your death? Plus, I had never really caught on to the whole morphing thing. I smiled. The Lord of the Rings was a different story. I liked it there, as much as I complained about it. I'm glad I went to Helm's Deep, got a chance to prove myself. Absently I ran my hand over my stomach. My fingers ran over long risen lines that were my battle scars. They were my souvenirs.
My painful souvenirs.
A shiver ran up my spine and a tear down my cheek. Had I really killed so many people? Had I really once been thought of as a warrior? Me? It all seemed like a dream now.
Those scars were reminders that it hadn't all a dream, it had been real.
The pain, the emotions, the people, the fights. They had all been real. They had all happened. I had actually been shot by arrows, had felt the sting of cold steel on my skin, been covered in blood that was both my own and my enemy's.
My thoughts soon faded into dreams. Horrid dreams. They took me back to every battle I had ever fought in, every wound I had ever gotten.
I woke covered in sweat, quite aware of every muscle in my body. I was sore, as if the dreams had happened. Slowly, I drew my curtain aside and saw out the window the faint glimmer of early morning sun. I painfully rolled out of my bed and softly hit the floor with my bare feet. My hair was sticking every which way so I flattened it out the best I could and quietly got dressed.
The robes felt good. They weren't tight at all. They were a nuisance being so long and all. Not fit at all for fighting. I shook my head to get rid of such thoughts. I wasn't fighting, I was going to school. I brushed my hair again and pulled it back into a ponytail. That felt better. Then I grabbed my shoes and tiptoed out of the dormitory. By now it was dawn and the common room had a comfortable glow about it. The fire that had been crackling when I had entered last night had gone out, but I curled up in a big squashy armchair all the same to enjoy the sunlight. Ever since Lord of the Rings, I had learned to appreciate the sun. You see in Middle Earth the sun was rarely ever able to conquer the overwhelming darkness and therefore you didn't see it much, and when the sun isn't out, it gets cold.
Anyway, I put my shoes on and tried to relax. I figured it would be a while before anyone joined me, but I was wrong. About twenty minutes later I heard a door creak open and I looked up. To my amazement, it was Harry. He seemed surprised to see me sitting there, but continued into the room and sat in an armchair opposite me. "Have you been awake long?" he asked me quietly. His voice shattered the silence, and I wished he hadn't come down. It was so rare to have silence.
"Only an hour or so," I replied. He seemed a bit shocked at this answer. "Why are you up so early?" I asked.
"No reason," he lied. I knew he had been awoken by a dream. I smiled to myself. "Why are you up so early?"
"Habit," I told him truthfully. You can't hang around with Aragorn and the rest of the men without being on a strict sleep routine. I swear, I was forced to go for two days on, if I was lucky, three hours of sleep. Between being on watch and running after Lisa, Merry, and Pippin, that didn't give you much time to sleep anyway. It's not like I hadn't wanted to, I mean it was always dark enough, but Aragorn (and his sword) wouldn't have it.
"You're the girl who ran into me on the train, aren't you?" he asked. I blushed and nodded my head. "Courtney, wasn't it?"
"Yeah," I replied, then smiled. "No need to ask your name." Harry quickly tried to flatten his hair over his scar. I laughed silently. "I'm sorry, you must be sick of people gawking at you."
"Just a bit," he said, but seemed to relax some.
"Harry?" Ron's voice came suddenly, loud and clear, from the boys' dormitories. Startled I stood up. My hand was by my side, prepared to draw the sword I didn't have. Ron, however, wasn't the only one descending from the dormitories.
And off to breakfast I went with everyone else.
I got lost on the way there, though, and was forced to scarf it down.
"There, look."
"Where?"
"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."
"Wearing the glasses?"
"Did you see his face?"
"Did you see his scar?"
Whispers had followed Harry from the moment he had left his dormitory. How did I know? Because I was always right behind the person (or persons) whispering. People lined up outside of classrooms and stood up on tiptoe to get a look at him, or even doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Even I was getting annoyed; I could only imagine how Harry felt. On top of that, we couldn't find our way to our classes (and I thought my middle school was hard to get around)!
Now, since you've never been to Hogwarts and I have, let me describe a little something to you. There are a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that lead somewhere different on Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you have to remember to jump. Then, as if the staircases aren't enough, there are doors that won't open unless you ask politely, or tickle them in exactly the right place, and some doors that aren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending (trust me on this one, I nearly lost about seven of my teeth and my nose because of these so called "doors"). Not to mention that it is very, very hard to remember where anything is, because it all seems to move around a lot. The people in the portraits keep going to visit each other, and I'm sure that the suits of armor can talk.
The ghosts, of course, didn't help, either. It is always a nasty shock when one of them glides suddenly through the door you're trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick found it a pleasure to direct new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist, now he is worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you meet him when you're late for class. He drops wastepaper baskets on your head, pulls rugs from under your feet, pelts you with bits of chalk, or sneaks up behind you, invisible, grabs your nose, and screeches, "GOT YOUR CONK!" Between walls pretending to be doors and Peeves, my poor nose will never be the same.
Even worse than Peeves, if that's possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. I don't know about anyone else, but Harry, Ron, and I managed to get on the wrong side of him on our very first morning. Then again, I don't know why it surprised me, I manage to get on the wrong side of a lot of people in our first meeting. Anyway, I had lost all traces of any fellow Gryffindors, so, wandering alone through the corridors, I came across the door to the third floor corridor. Here I found Harry and Ron trying to force their way through a door. Now, at the time, I didn't realize that it was the third floor corridor, otherwise I would have warned them. Filch came around a corner, saw the three of us standing there, and we were soon under the wrath of a man who hated every child on the face of the earth. He wouldn't believe that we were lost, was sure that we were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock us in the dungeons when we were somewhat rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing. I didn't exactly consider it rescuing, then again, I knew what he was hiding.
As you may know, Filch has a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust- colored creature with bulging, lamplike eyes just like Filch's. Now, I love cats, I adore them, really, but this cat is the cat from Hell! She patrols the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'll whisk off for Filch, who always appeared, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. We all hated him, and it was everyone's dearest ambition, yes, even mine, to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.
And then, once you have managed to find them, there are the classes themselves. There is a lot more magic, as I quickly learned along with everyone else, than just waving your wand and saying a few funny words.
We had to study the night skies through our telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week we went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout (an appropriate name if I do say so myself), where we learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.
Easily the most boring class, even worse than math, was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up the next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while we scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.
Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of our first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight. This was particularly interesting to me, as I had a front row seat and could see everything.
Professor McGonagall was again different. I had been right to think that she wasn't a teacher to cross, and that she would be yelling at me for a good portion of the year. However, the yelling did not start on the first day in her class. Strict and clever, she gave us a talking-to the moment we sat down in her first class.
"Transfiguration in some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she told us. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."
So sorry, Professor McGonagall, but messing around will be at its most meaningful level yet with me in your class. Aragorn couldn't scare me with his sword, Ax couldn't scare me with his razor-blade tail, and you can't scare me with your words, your stares, and your wand.
Okay, this was all a complete bluff. Aragorn had scared me with his sword, Ax did scare me with his razor-blade tail, and she could scare me with her words, her stares, and her wand. Especially her wand.
She then changed her desk into a pig and back again. We were all very impressed, even me, and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized we weren't going to be changing furniture into animals for a long time. In other words, I would never change furniture into animals. After taking a lot of complicated notes, we were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile. I grinned too. Hermione saw me and blushed.
The class we had all been really looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke, as I had expected. I was really only interested in keeping an eye on him. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told us, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but no one was sure they believed the story. I, for one, knew it was a bunch of bull. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, we had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went. I knew this was a bunch of bull as well.
Friday was an important day for, I think, all of the first years. It was the day that we finally managed to find our way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.
"What have we got today?" I heard Harry ask Ron. I poured some sugar on my porridge and listened. Hermione was sitting next to me, Harry and Ron across from me.
"Double Potions with the Slytherins," Ron replied. My spoon clattered onto the table in mid-bite and I was sprayed with porridge. Double Potions with the Slytherins? With Lisa? No, not today, not ever! Everyone ignored me as I wiped porridge off my robes. "Snape's head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them - we'll be able to see if it's true."
"Wish McGonagall favored us," Harry said. Professor McGonagall was, of course, head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving us all a huge pile of homework the day before.
Just then, the mail arrived. We had all gotten used to this by now, but it had given most of us a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owner, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.
My owl, which I had decided to call Pepita (Pep for short), hadn't brought me anything yet. Not that I expected anything. She usually flew in to nibble my ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. I noticed that Harry's owl, Hedwig, did the same. However, this morning, both Hedwig and Pep brought notes. Pep's note was almost as big as she was. You see, Pep is an Elf Owl, and she's only about six inches long. I laughed a little at the sight of her. Harry's note, when dropped by Hedwig, landed on his plate, mine landed in my porridge. I could tell it was going to be a lousy day. I picked up the note, cleaned it off, and ripped it open. Pep began nibbling on my toast as I read.
Courtney, We need to talk, you, me, and Lisa. Tonight in the library. Meet us there at 8:30. See ya later! ~Laura
8:30? Wasn't that kind of late? Oh well. I folded the letter and tucked it inside my robe. I then stroked Pep and relaxed. I didn't feel much like finishing my contorted porridge or my nibbled on toast. It was going to be an interesting day.
Did I say an interesting day? Sorry, I underestimated it.
Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder there than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.
Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused when he got to Harry's name.
"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."
Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands, as well as Lisa. I was a bit astonished to say the least. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His stare fell on me for a time, enough time to spark a little fear. I wished now more than ever I had my sword. His eyes were black, no, make that empty, dark. They had no real color. It was worse than being stared at by Aragorn. At least he smiled every once in awhile. Even Tobias' hawk eyes were better than Snape's dark tunnels, and that's saying something! It was hard to fight in front of Aragorn, it was hard (well, harder) to morph in front of Tobias, and I knew it was going to be Hell trying to conjure up a potion with Snape breathing down my back. I suddenly wished I was back at Helm's Deep.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but we caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
More silence followed this little speech. I looked across the room at Lisa, and even she looked a little unsure. What she failed to realize was that she had the advantage, she was in Snape's house! She was immune! Her and Laura both! Lisa was in Slytherin, therefore favored by Snape. Laura wasn't dumb enough to get in trouble with Snape. I was the only dunderhead (as everyone liked to put it there) who was liable to get busted!
Hermione Granger, unlike myself, was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.
"Potter!" Snape said suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Powdered root of what? To an infusion of what what? I thought. Then smiled as I remembered an inside joke between Lisa and myself. Oops, I think Snape saw my happiness. He was determined to demolish it.
Hermione's hand shot into the air.
"I don't know, sir," Harry replied.
Snape's lips curled into a sneer. Okay, not so bad, I wasn't the only one smiling anymore. Ooh, still bad, he was looking at me. Cover the teeth, that's it. Okay, I'm good to go.
"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything," Snape said, saving me from embarrassment and placing it on Harry. Wait, was that a good thing? Sure it was, I wasn't in trouble yet!
Snape ignored Hermione's hand.
"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but I don't believe that anyone else in the room, especially Harry, had any idea what the hell a bezoar was. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were shaking with laughter.
"I don't know, sir," I heard Harry say again.
"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" I noticed that Harry just kept looking straight into Snape's eyes. I could only imagine the thoughts running through his mind.
Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.
"What is the difference, Caillet, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Was that my name? Oh shit, what now? Answer him? Sure, why not.
"There is no difference, sir, they're the same plant. It also goes by the name of aconite," I said softly. I believe my heart ceased to beat, and I couldn't breathe. Snape seemed infuriated that I knew the answer. I smiled to myself. Heh heh, take that!
Hermione's hand was still in the air, but a look of disappointment was on her face.
"If you want the answer to the rest of your questions," I continued, and I swear it was against my will, "you might want to try Hermione." Why? Why me? I tried to force myself to wake up from the nightmare.
It wasn't working.
Now I think it's fair to say, he hated me.
A few people laughed, I wish they hadn't. Snape was not pleased, nope, not in the least.
"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter . . ." Oh good, we were back to picking on Harry. "Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of the Living Dead. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. And, as your friend here so graciously explained," he shot a look at me, "monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying this down?"
There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your classmate's cheek." He looked at me again. I wished he would stop doing that.
Things did not improve for us Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put us all into pairs and set us to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. Guess who my partner was? Snape swept around in his long black cloak, watching us weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus' cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.
"Idiot boy," Snape snarled, cleaning the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"
Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.
Lisa pulled her hand, which was filled with porcupine quills, back towards her body while I removed our cauldron from the fire.
"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.
"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point lost for Gryffindor."
I saw Harry open his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron. He then muttered something in his ear. I looked back at Lisa. She dumped the porcupine quills into our cauldron and gave me a small smile. I began to stir our potion.
An hour later we climbed the steps out of the dungeon. "I'll see you tonight," Lisa whispered, then she pushed me and walked off with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. I caught myself before hitting the ground and laughed.
Tonight.
I grimaced slightly. That one word screamed trouble.
So, that night, after dinner was over and everyone was in the common room working on their homework, I got up to leave the tower. "Where are you going?" Hermione, who had been sitting with me, asked.
"To the bathroom, I'll be back soon," I lied. Then I left.
I somehow managed to find the library, where Madam Pince, the librarian, didn't seem to be anywhere around. I snuck to the back of the library, acting as though I was looking for a book.
"Psst," I heard suddenly. I jumped and turned around. There stood Laura and Lisa in the darkest corner possible. I walked over and they drew me into the shadows.
"Okay, why did we meet in the library?" I asked. "This is the best place for trouble." I suppose Laura grinned, Lisa probably did as well.
"Shut-up and listen," Laura told me. "While we're here you and Lisa have to act like you hate each other, right? Okay, you have to buddy up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Lisa, you buddy up with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle."
"What about you?" Lisa asked.
"I'm the unofficial leader, remember? I make the plans, I call the shots, and you two do the dirty work."
I laughed silently with Lisa. "Now then, we had better get back to our common rooms before . . ." She was cut short by a most unwelcome voice.
"Caillet, is that you?"
Snape!
Suddenly, Laura hit a button on a watch around her wrist, and Lisa shrank into the form of a fly. No way! They had their powers and hadn't told me! I was alone, and Snape was walking toward me, I could hear his feet. I didn't have the nerve to turn around.
"Caillet, come with me," I heard Snape sneer.
I turned around and he led me away. I didn't look up at him, I could feel his glee. This was turning out to be a very bad week.
___________________________________________
Chapter Three
"Define everything," Laura said.
"Excuse me?" Dumbledore asked.
"The word everything covers a lot of terrain, which part would you like to hear?" Laura explained.
"The part that involves Hogwarts," Dumbledore told her with a twinkle in his eye.
"Oh, well, in other words everything," Lisa remarked. "You can't exactly tell him about what we're doing here unless you tell him about all the other places we went to." Dumbledore smiled.
"Lisa," I began, but stopped. It didn't seem right to call her simpleminded when she had a point, at least not anymore.
"Courtney, why don't you begin?" Dumbledore offered.
"No," I refused, shaking my head. That was all. No explanation, no excuse. And no one asked. Instead, I sat silently and listened to Lisa and Laura tell our story, but occasionally filled in some of the details.
When we finished Dumbledore was silent for a time. He peered at us over his half-moon spectacles again. It wasn't a look that made you feel uncomfortable, or that you were in trouble. It simply made you aware that he was looking at you and taking you and your words into consideration. Finally, he said, "That's quite an amazing story." We all nodded our agreement.
Dumbledore stood up and began to pace the room. "As you get settled into your houses," he began, "you will make friends. Now, as much as you may want to share your story, I must ask you not to. I also must ask you not to alter anything. What is meant to happen will, fate will take its hand in whatever lies ahead. Do not try to change anything to the way that you would want it. It can only ruin things."
We sat in silence. We knew this, of course, but we had always gone against it. Now, here was someone telling us that we couldn't change anything, even if it meant saving someone's life. There was no way. We were in the book for a reason, there had to be a reason. If the reason just so happened to be saving someone's life, then we would surely overlook this conversation.
Wouldn't we?
Still, no one was saying anything.
"How, may I ask, did you get home from these other worlds?" Dumbledore asked suddenly. For the first time since the sorting, we all looked at each other. Then, as one, we all gave him an answer.
"Death."
He seemed shocked.
"Death?" he inquired as if to make sure he was hearing right. We all nodded.
Suddenly there came a knock at the door. "Enter," Dumbledore said. Professor McGonagall entered the room.
"Professor Dumbledore," she said, "it's getting rather late. I believe the girls should go to their dormitories."
"Ah, so it is rather late," Dumbledore agreed. "Yes, I believe you're right Professor. Will there be someone to escort them?"
"Yes," Professor McGonagall replied.
"Very well, off you go then girls," Dumbledore told us. We all stood, said our good-byes, and exited the chamber.
In the corridor, Professors Sprout, Snape, and McGonagall waited to take us to our dormitories. We all said goodnight and went our own ways: Laura with Professor Sprout, Lisa with Professor Snape, and me with Professor McGonagall.
The trip to Gryffindor tower was a silent one. I could see Professor McGonagall glancing at me out of the corner of my eye. I wished she would go away, but I didn't know my way to Gryffindor tower, so I figured it was a good thing she was there. Finally, after what seemed like years but was probably only minutes, Professor McGonagall was telling me the password ("Caput Draconis") and where the girls' dormitories were located ("...up the stairs to your right."), and then she left me to get some sleep. I walked inside and found that the common room was, amazingly, empty. Everyone must have been really tired.
I made my way up the spiral staircase and found the door to the girls' dormitories. I opened it and everyone in the room looked up at me, Hermione being one of them. "Hi, sorry I'm late," I told them. They shrugged and looked away from me. There were five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. The trunks had already been brought up, I saw, and I was the only person who hadn't unpacked.
I was sharing a room with Hermione, Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, and some girl named Jennifer Dipple, not the most pleasing of combinations. I knelt down and began taking things out of my trunk. I came across a wand, which I held in my hand for quite some time. Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy, I thought to myself. Then, startled, I dropped the wand back into my trunk. How did I know that? I had never actually been in Diagon Alley, been in Ollivanders. Had I? No, it was impossible. I tried to shrug it off, but it was too crazy. I tried to at least act like nothing weird had happened.
I continued unpacking.
I pulled out pajamas, some spare robes, a hat, winter accessories, etc. I then realized that my owl was missing. It took a moment to register that she was probably in the owlery with all of the others. I changed into my pajamas, deciding to leave the rest of my unpacking for another time, and climbed into the bed that had apparently been left for me. To bring myself down from the high I had been in since I had arrived, I brushed my hair and absently gazed off into nothingness. The lights had been turned off without me noticing much. I laid my brush on the table beside my bed, pulled my curtains shut, and rested my head on my pillow.
I thought about a lot of things before I finally fell asleep. I wondered what Lisa and Laura were doing; I tried to calculate how long we had been gone from home (about a second) and then stifled a laugh. I wondered if anyone in the theater had seen us disappear. I turned over and lay on my back. I began to think about our past two "adventures". Animorphs was my least favorite by a landslide, I mean, where's the nobility in falling out of a tree to your death? Plus, I had never really caught on to the whole morphing thing. I smiled. The Lord of the Rings was a different story. I liked it there, as much as I complained about it. I'm glad I went to Helm's Deep, got a chance to prove myself. Absently I ran my hand over my stomach. My fingers ran over long risen lines that were my battle scars. They were my souvenirs.
My painful souvenirs.
A shiver ran up my spine and a tear down my cheek. Had I really killed so many people? Had I really once been thought of as a warrior? Me? It all seemed like a dream now.
Those scars were reminders that it hadn't all a dream, it had been real.
The pain, the emotions, the people, the fights. They had all been real. They had all happened. I had actually been shot by arrows, had felt the sting of cold steel on my skin, been covered in blood that was both my own and my enemy's.
My thoughts soon faded into dreams. Horrid dreams. They took me back to every battle I had ever fought in, every wound I had ever gotten.
I woke covered in sweat, quite aware of every muscle in my body. I was sore, as if the dreams had happened. Slowly, I drew my curtain aside and saw out the window the faint glimmer of early morning sun. I painfully rolled out of my bed and softly hit the floor with my bare feet. My hair was sticking every which way so I flattened it out the best I could and quietly got dressed.
The robes felt good. They weren't tight at all. They were a nuisance being so long and all. Not fit at all for fighting. I shook my head to get rid of such thoughts. I wasn't fighting, I was going to school. I brushed my hair again and pulled it back into a ponytail. That felt better. Then I grabbed my shoes and tiptoed out of the dormitory. By now it was dawn and the common room had a comfortable glow about it. The fire that had been crackling when I had entered last night had gone out, but I curled up in a big squashy armchair all the same to enjoy the sunlight. Ever since Lord of the Rings, I had learned to appreciate the sun. You see in Middle Earth the sun was rarely ever able to conquer the overwhelming darkness and therefore you didn't see it much, and when the sun isn't out, it gets cold.
Anyway, I put my shoes on and tried to relax. I figured it would be a while before anyone joined me, but I was wrong. About twenty minutes later I heard a door creak open and I looked up. To my amazement, it was Harry. He seemed surprised to see me sitting there, but continued into the room and sat in an armchair opposite me. "Have you been awake long?" he asked me quietly. His voice shattered the silence, and I wished he hadn't come down. It was so rare to have silence.
"Only an hour or so," I replied. He seemed a bit shocked at this answer. "Why are you up so early?" I asked.
"No reason," he lied. I knew he had been awoken by a dream. I smiled to myself. "Why are you up so early?"
"Habit," I told him truthfully. You can't hang around with Aragorn and the rest of the men without being on a strict sleep routine. I swear, I was forced to go for two days on, if I was lucky, three hours of sleep. Between being on watch and running after Lisa, Merry, and Pippin, that didn't give you much time to sleep anyway. It's not like I hadn't wanted to, I mean it was always dark enough, but Aragorn (and his sword) wouldn't have it.
"You're the girl who ran into me on the train, aren't you?" he asked. I blushed and nodded my head. "Courtney, wasn't it?"
"Yeah," I replied, then smiled. "No need to ask your name." Harry quickly tried to flatten his hair over his scar. I laughed silently. "I'm sorry, you must be sick of people gawking at you."
"Just a bit," he said, but seemed to relax some.
"Harry?" Ron's voice came suddenly, loud and clear, from the boys' dormitories. Startled I stood up. My hand was by my side, prepared to draw the sword I didn't have. Ron, however, wasn't the only one descending from the dormitories.
And off to breakfast I went with everyone else.
I got lost on the way there, though, and was forced to scarf it down.
"There, look."
"Where?"
"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."
"Wearing the glasses?"
"Did you see his face?"
"Did you see his scar?"
Whispers had followed Harry from the moment he had left his dormitory. How did I know? Because I was always right behind the person (or persons) whispering. People lined up outside of classrooms and stood up on tiptoe to get a look at him, or even doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Even I was getting annoyed; I could only imagine how Harry felt. On top of that, we couldn't find our way to our classes (and I thought my middle school was hard to get around)!
Now, since you've never been to Hogwarts and I have, let me describe a little something to you. There are a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that lead somewhere different on Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you have to remember to jump. Then, as if the staircases aren't enough, there are doors that won't open unless you ask politely, or tickle them in exactly the right place, and some doors that aren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending (trust me on this one, I nearly lost about seven of my teeth and my nose because of these so called "doors"). Not to mention that it is very, very hard to remember where anything is, because it all seems to move around a lot. The people in the portraits keep going to visit each other, and I'm sure that the suits of armor can talk.
The ghosts, of course, didn't help, either. It is always a nasty shock when one of them glides suddenly through the door you're trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick found it a pleasure to direct new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist, now he is worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you meet him when you're late for class. He drops wastepaper baskets on your head, pulls rugs from under your feet, pelts you with bits of chalk, or sneaks up behind you, invisible, grabs your nose, and screeches, "GOT YOUR CONK!" Between walls pretending to be doors and Peeves, my poor nose will never be the same.
Even worse than Peeves, if that's possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. I don't know about anyone else, but Harry, Ron, and I managed to get on the wrong side of him on our very first morning. Then again, I don't know why it surprised me, I manage to get on the wrong side of a lot of people in our first meeting. Anyway, I had lost all traces of any fellow Gryffindors, so, wandering alone through the corridors, I came across the door to the third floor corridor. Here I found Harry and Ron trying to force their way through a door. Now, at the time, I didn't realize that it was the third floor corridor, otherwise I would have warned them. Filch came around a corner, saw the three of us standing there, and we were soon under the wrath of a man who hated every child on the face of the earth. He wouldn't believe that we were lost, was sure that we were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock us in the dungeons when we were somewhat rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing. I didn't exactly consider it rescuing, then again, I knew what he was hiding.
As you may know, Filch has a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust- colored creature with bulging, lamplike eyes just like Filch's. Now, I love cats, I adore them, really, but this cat is the cat from Hell! She patrols the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'll whisk off for Filch, who always appeared, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. We all hated him, and it was everyone's dearest ambition, yes, even mine, to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.
And then, once you have managed to find them, there are the classes themselves. There is a lot more magic, as I quickly learned along with everyone else, than just waving your wand and saying a few funny words.
We had to study the night skies through our telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week we went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout (an appropriate name if I do say so myself), where we learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.
Easily the most boring class, even worse than math, was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up the next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while we scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.
Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of our first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight. This was particularly interesting to me, as I had a front row seat and could see everything.
Professor McGonagall was again different. I had been right to think that she wasn't a teacher to cross, and that she would be yelling at me for a good portion of the year. However, the yelling did not start on the first day in her class. Strict and clever, she gave us a talking-to the moment we sat down in her first class.
"Transfiguration in some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she told us. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."
So sorry, Professor McGonagall, but messing around will be at its most meaningful level yet with me in your class. Aragorn couldn't scare me with his sword, Ax couldn't scare me with his razor-blade tail, and you can't scare me with your words, your stares, and your wand.
Okay, this was all a complete bluff. Aragorn had scared me with his sword, Ax did scare me with his razor-blade tail, and she could scare me with her words, her stares, and her wand. Especially her wand.
She then changed her desk into a pig and back again. We were all very impressed, even me, and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized we weren't going to be changing furniture into animals for a long time. In other words, I would never change furniture into animals. After taking a lot of complicated notes, we were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile. I grinned too. Hermione saw me and blushed.
The class we had all been really looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke, as I had expected. I was really only interested in keeping an eye on him. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told us, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but no one was sure they believed the story. I, for one, knew it was a bunch of bull. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, we had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went. I knew this was a bunch of bull as well.
Friday was an important day for, I think, all of the first years. It was the day that we finally managed to find our way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.
"What have we got today?" I heard Harry ask Ron. I poured some sugar on my porridge and listened. Hermione was sitting next to me, Harry and Ron across from me.
"Double Potions with the Slytherins," Ron replied. My spoon clattered onto the table in mid-bite and I was sprayed with porridge. Double Potions with the Slytherins? With Lisa? No, not today, not ever! Everyone ignored me as I wiped porridge off my robes. "Snape's head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them - we'll be able to see if it's true."
"Wish McGonagall favored us," Harry said. Professor McGonagall was, of course, head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving us all a huge pile of homework the day before.
Just then, the mail arrived. We had all gotten used to this by now, but it had given most of us a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owner, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.
My owl, which I had decided to call Pepita (Pep for short), hadn't brought me anything yet. Not that I expected anything. She usually flew in to nibble my ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. I noticed that Harry's owl, Hedwig, did the same. However, this morning, both Hedwig and Pep brought notes. Pep's note was almost as big as she was. You see, Pep is an Elf Owl, and she's only about six inches long. I laughed a little at the sight of her. Harry's note, when dropped by Hedwig, landed on his plate, mine landed in my porridge. I could tell it was going to be a lousy day. I picked up the note, cleaned it off, and ripped it open. Pep began nibbling on my toast as I read.
Courtney, We need to talk, you, me, and Lisa. Tonight in the library. Meet us there at 8:30. See ya later! ~Laura
8:30? Wasn't that kind of late? Oh well. I folded the letter and tucked it inside my robe. I then stroked Pep and relaxed. I didn't feel much like finishing my contorted porridge or my nibbled on toast. It was going to be an interesting day.
Did I say an interesting day? Sorry, I underestimated it.
Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder there than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.
Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused when he got to Harry's name.
"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."
Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands, as well as Lisa. I was a bit astonished to say the least. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His stare fell on me for a time, enough time to spark a little fear. I wished now more than ever I had my sword. His eyes were black, no, make that empty, dark. They had no real color. It was worse than being stared at by Aragorn. At least he smiled every once in awhile. Even Tobias' hawk eyes were better than Snape's dark tunnels, and that's saying something! It was hard to fight in front of Aragorn, it was hard (well, harder) to morph in front of Tobias, and I knew it was going to be Hell trying to conjure up a potion with Snape breathing down my back. I suddenly wished I was back at Helm's Deep.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but we caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
More silence followed this little speech. I looked across the room at Lisa, and even she looked a little unsure. What she failed to realize was that she had the advantage, she was in Snape's house! She was immune! Her and Laura both! Lisa was in Slytherin, therefore favored by Snape. Laura wasn't dumb enough to get in trouble with Snape. I was the only dunderhead (as everyone liked to put it there) who was liable to get busted!
Hermione Granger, unlike myself, was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.
"Potter!" Snape said suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Powdered root of what? To an infusion of what what? I thought. Then smiled as I remembered an inside joke between Lisa and myself. Oops, I think Snape saw my happiness. He was determined to demolish it.
Hermione's hand shot into the air.
"I don't know, sir," Harry replied.
Snape's lips curled into a sneer. Okay, not so bad, I wasn't the only one smiling anymore. Ooh, still bad, he was looking at me. Cover the teeth, that's it. Okay, I'm good to go.
"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything," Snape said, saving me from embarrassment and placing it on Harry. Wait, was that a good thing? Sure it was, I wasn't in trouble yet!
Snape ignored Hermione's hand.
"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but I don't believe that anyone else in the room, especially Harry, had any idea what the hell a bezoar was. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were shaking with laughter.
"I don't know, sir," I heard Harry say again.
"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" I noticed that Harry just kept looking straight into Snape's eyes. I could only imagine the thoughts running through his mind.
Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.
"What is the difference, Caillet, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Was that my name? Oh shit, what now? Answer him? Sure, why not.
"There is no difference, sir, they're the same plant. It also goes by the name of aconite," I said softly. I believe my heart ceased to beat, and I couldn't breathe. Snape seemed infuriated that I knew the answer. I smiled to myself. Heh heh, take that!
Hermione's hand was still in the air, but a look of disappointment was on her face.
"If you want the answer to the rest of your questions," I continued, and I swear it was against my will, "you might want to try Hermione." Why? Why me? I tried to force myself to wake up from the nightmare.
It wasn't working.
Now I think it's fair to say, he hated me.
A few people laughed, I wish they hadn't. Snape was not pleased, nope, not in the least.
"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter . . ." Oh good, we were back to picking on Harry. "Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of the Living Dead. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. And, as your friend here so graciously explained," he shot a look at me, "monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying this down?"
There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your classmate's cheek." He looked at me again. I wished he would stop doing that.
Things did not improve for us Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put us all into pairs and set us to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. Guess who my partner was? Snape swept around in his long black cloak, watching us weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus' cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.
"Idiot boy," Snape snarled, cleaning the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"
Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.
Lisa pulled her hand, which was filled with porcupine quills, back towards her body while I removed our cauldron from the fire.
"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.
"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point lost for Gryffindor."
I saw Harry open his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron. He then muttered something in his ear. I looked back at Lisa. She dumped the porcupine quills into our cauldron and gave me a small smile. I began to stir our potion.
An hour later we climbed the steps out of the dungeon. "I'll see you tonight," Lisa whispered, then she pushed me and walked off with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. I caught myself before hitting the ground and laughed.
Tonight.
I grimaced slightly. That one word screamed trouble.
So, that night, after dinner was over and everyone was in the common room working on their homework, I got up to leave the tower. "Where are you going?" Hermione, who had been sitting with me, asked.
"To the bathroom, I'll be back soon," I lied. Then I left.
I somehow managed to find the library, where Madam Pince, the librarian, didn't seem to be anywhere around. I snuck to the back of the library, acting as though I was looking for a book.
"Psst," I heard suddenly. I jumped and turned around. There stood Laura and Lisa in the darkest corner possible. I walked over and they drew me into the shadows.
"Okay, why did we meet in the library?" I asked. "This is the best place for trouble." I suppose Laura grinned, Lisa probably did as well.
"Shut-up and listen," Laura told me. "While we're here you and Lisa have to act like you hate each other, right? Okay, you have to buddy up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Lisa, you buddy up with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle."
"What about you?" Lisa asked.
"I'm the unofficial leader, remember? I make the plans, I call the shots, and you two do the dirty work."
I laughed silently with Lisa. "Now then, we had better get back to our common rooms before . . ." She was cut short by a most unwelcome voice.
"Caillet, is that you?"
Snape!
Suddenly, Laura hit a button on a watch around her wrist, and Lisa shrank into the form of a fly. No way! They had their powers and hadn't told me! I was alone, and Snape was walking toward me, I could hear his feet. I didn't have the nerve to turn around.
"Caillet, come with me," I heard Snape sneer.
I turned around and he led me away. I didn't look up at him, I could feel his glee. This was turning out to be a very bad week.
