Chapter 21:  Spells Gone Wrong

            Harry opened his eyes slowly.  His head was throbbing painfully, but it wasn't any pain caused by his scar, so he wasn't unduly worried.  He'd dealt with pain worse than this before and wasn't about to let a headache bother him too much. 

            He sat up slowly, reaching for and putting on his glasses, bringing the world back into focus.  He was seated on a very clean, white bed, with a green curtain surrounding it, and he realized exactly where he was.  Goodness knows he'd been here often enough in the past.  The Infirmary.  Which meant something pretty bad must have happened to him. 

            "Oh, bugger," Harry, muttered, rubbing his forehead tiredly as the events of the past evening replayed themselves in his mind. 

After the most interesting scene at dinner, which ended with Burdock, Lupin, and Snape running out of the Great Hall, Harry and Ron had speculated with on what had happened between the three professors. 

            "I suppose Burdock couldn't stand being around Snape during mealtimes.  I mean, could you?  Imagine having to sit so close to him while eating," Ron shuddered, "it's enough to put me off of food for weeks."

            "I doubt that," Harry teased.

            Ron shrugged, laughing good-naturedly and taking a big bite out of his treacle tart, "You're probably right.  Anyway, what'd you think of Burdock?"

            "He gave me the creeps," Ginny butted in.

            "Yeah," Fred joined the conversation, "I mean, did you see his eyes?  They were all dark and flat, and he wouldn't smile or anything."

            "I bet we could make him smile," George grinned evilly, "another perfect opportunity to test our Weasley Wizard Wheezes products, eh?"

            "I don't know," Ron said, frowning doubtfully, "He doesn't seem the kind of chap who would enjoy being the object of a practical joke."

            "Come on, Ronnie-kins," Fred said playfully, "don't tell me you'd pass up the chance to have a bit of fun."

            "You'd better be careful," George said in a mock threatening tone, "you might end up like Percy.  Goodness knows we don't need two of him running around."

            "Could you imagine that?" Fred held a hand up to his forehead, pretending to faint, while Harry hummed the tune from the Twilight Zone.  Everyone looked at him like he'd grown another head, except for the Ravenclaw girl who started to laugh.  Harry glanced at her in surprise and she blushed slightly, looking away.

            "Anyway," Ron said determinedly, "I can't even begin to imagine what it'll be like with him as a Professor."

            Harry shrugged.  "I don't know.  We've had so many different ones, I don't know what the next one will act like."

            "I swear Moody was obsessive compulsive." Fred muttered, "He just always had to yell 'Constant vigilance' in class.  What was the record, George?"

            George pretended to scrutinize a parchment, "About a total of 20 in one class, I do believe." 

            Harry looked down at his plate.  The last school year was still very fresh in his mind, as well as the attempt on his life made by Professor Mad-Eye Moody, who was none other than Bartemius Crouch, Jr., one of Voldemort's most avid supporters.  Or at least when he'd been alive.  Harry dreaded to think what it must have been like in Crouch's last minutes to see the dementor leaning over to deliver its "kiss."  During his third year, when Sirius had managed to escape from Azkaban, Harry'd almost received the Kiss from a group of dementors patrolling the Hogwarts grounds.  He'd been saved by a very well timed Patronus, and had gone on to help Sirius escape from the dementors as well. 

            The rest of dinner passed somewhat uneventfully, though Ron couldn't seem to stop talking about the new professor.  At the end, when the last morsels of dessert had been wiped clean from the golden plates, Dumbledore had stood and announced, "Since there are several important people missing from the table now, we shall do the Secret Santa drawing tomorrow evening instead of today as planned.  But for now, the hour is late, and I'm sure all of your beds are beckoning.  We must not keep them waiting.  Good night!  Sleep tight!"   

            There was a chorus of good nights as they left the table and walked out to the main hall.  Harry had frozen when he heard the derogatively drawling voice behind him.

            "Well, well, I certainly wouldn't want Weasley as my Secret Santa.  I would be afraid he couldn't afford anything more than what he can find in a garbage heap, if that even." 

            Both Harry and Ron whirled around, Harry having to grab on to Ron's robes to prevent him from strangulating Malfoy.  "Sod off, Malfoy," Harry used his customary greeting for the Slytherin. 

            The pale boy sneered, his lip curling.  "Maybe someone will get you something special, Potter.  Perhaps a small amount of well-placed hemlock in your pumpkin juice.  Isn't that just the thing for martyrs?" 

            "What would you know about standing up for what you believe in, ferret?" Ron spat. 

            Harry tugged on his robes.  "Come on Ron, let's just go." 

            "What's the hurry, Potter?" Malfoy sneered, "Afraid something might come up you don't want others to find out about?  Like how you nearly fainted in the presence of the Dark Lord?  Or how about how you ran away the first chance you got?" 

            Harry released Ron's robes and stepped forward so he and Draco were barely two feet apart.  "All right, Malfoy.  You started something.  Let's finish it right here, right now."

            Draco yawned exaggeratedly.  "Oh, I don't know.  It seems like such a waste of time…"

            "What, is the great Draco Malfoy scared?  You think he's going to kick your ass, don't you?" Ron jeered. 

            "Stay out of this, Weasel." Draco gritted, looking around Harry to where Ron stood his arms folded.

            "So, Malfoy," Harry said, staring directly into Draco's eyes, "how about it?  You want your actions to match your words, or do you want to be the same cowardly snake you've always been?"

            Malfoy's gray eyes darkened dangerously. "I am not a coward."  He backed away slightly from Harry and pulled out his wand. 

            Harry did the same, thinking quickly through every curse he knew.  The two boys stood there for what seemed like long minutes, burning eyes trained carefully on each other.  Suddenly the unspoken moment arrived and both shouted out their spells as exactly the same time.

            "Deputo odorus!"(1)

            "Adstringo!"(2)

            The flashes of green and gold light hit each other and exploded into brilliance.  Harry had felt like a small truck had hit him before he had fallen to the floor out cold.

Harry stood to go find the bathroom and saw another bed was occupied.  For a second he felt worried Ron might have been hit by the collision of the two spells as well, and he rushed over to peer through the bed curtains.  However, it was a mass of silvery blonde hair that lay on the pillow, not his friend's familiar carrot colored mop. 

            Malfoy…Harry smiled to himself in triumph.  Good, at least he got some of what he deserved.  He fought back an annoying whisper of guilt nagging at the back of his mind at the sight of Draco's pale face.  He's a good-for-nothing git, Potter, and you know it.  So don't you dare feel sorry for him.  Making up his mind, Harry let the curtains fall back and trudged over to the bathroom. 

            When he'd finished there, Harry climbed back into bed, wondering briefly where Madam Pomfrey was.  Then it struck him.  He had regained some consciousness during the middle of the night and heard some voices near his bed.  At first he'd thought it was a dream and listened distantly.  Words like 'very sick', 'can't leave', and 'curse' circled him slowly, and it was only when he heard Dumbledore's name did he realize he was awake and focus more intently on what was happening.

            "You'll have to leave him here and go get Professor Dumbledore," Pomfrey's voice was commanding, "It's really the best place for me to take care of him."

            "But there are two students here, Madam Pomfrey," another voice he didn't recognize right away, but it sounded slightly hoarse and defiant, "and I don't want them to see him like this, just as I'm sure he wouldn't."

            "Professor Burdock," Pomfrey said icily, and Harry realized just whom it was she was talking to, "it doesn't matter what he wants.  He is very sick and needs to be taken care of immediately."

            "Of course, in his own chambers, safe from prying eyes and the gossip mill," Burdock rejoined,  "Now, if you could tell me where his rooms are, I would be much obliged."

            "Professor Burdock, I…"

            "He's dying, Madam Pomfrey," Burdock's voice was so harsh and cold, it almost sounded as if he was trying to cover something up with it, "and every second you stand there not telling me where his rooms are he moves closer to death.  Just tell me where I can take him, and then go let Professor Dumbledore what has happened."

            "Very well," Pomfrey sound ruffled and he heard Burdock sigh with impatience, "Just use the Floo to get there.  I'll be down soon to see what I can do.  Until then, just keep him covered and warm, all right?"

            "Yes, thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Burdock replied before there was a roar of fire indicated he just left the room.  Pomfrey bustled out of the room as well, and Harry slipped slowly back into his restless sleep.

            Now, as he thought back to it, Harry wondered whom it was that Burdock had brought to the Infirmary.  He felt a rush of dread at the thought it might have been Lupin.  Did something happen to him?  It could have actually been anyone…Snape, even.  He pushed that thought away.  It couldn't have been Snape.  Besides, why would Burdock try to help Snape?  It was obvious he didn't care for the Potions professor and the feelings were apparently mutual, if the way they acted at dinner the night before was any indication. 

            Harry didn't think about it any more as Pomfrey finally walked into the room and immediately approached his bed with a spoonful of some vile tasting potion or other. 

            "Well, Mr. Potter," she clucked as he forced himself to swallow the bitter liquid and feeling the headache subside somewhat, "I hope you're feeling proud of yourself today.  I would have thought a young man such as yourself would have more sense than to go around starting fights in the hallways." 

            Harry shrugged, finding somewhere the grace to look guilty. 

She clucked again, and pulled the blankets tight around his neck.  "Now, you will stay here until that headache is completely gone, and I mean completely, do you understand me, young man?" 

He nodded obediently, feeling suddenly very tired.  As Pomfrey moved over to Malfoy's bed Harry leaned back into his pillow, drifting slowly back to sleep.

(1)  Latin, meaning, I guess, to cut off a nose. 

(2)  Latin again, meaning to bind a person.  I  don't know Latin very well, I just found these things in a dictionary, and thought they would seem like cool curses.  And I am not going to say who said which curse…it makes it so much more fun when you guess, doesn't it?

A/N:  Of course you should feel validated, Elspeth, because I'm guessing you're a real person.  Oh, wait, did you mean as a reviewer?  Just kidding, I knew what you meant.  ^_~ 

I got a very sad review…someone didn't finish reading my fic because my character is someone I've created and not someone from the series already.  Alex isn't a Mary Sue is he?  **tear drop**  Please, do you think I need to warn people that he isn't someone from the HP books?  I think it would nullify the mystery behind the first, oh, 6 chapters, as well as the intrigue of the rest of the story, don't you?  I mean, we don't even know what gender the prisoner is until Percy goes to the trial.  **sniffle**  I hope I didn't work this hard on creating someone with so much depth, only to find out he's the quandary of fan fiction authors everywhere.  Darn Mary Sues…

Okay, no more whining from me, and thanks to all of you who like original, non-Mary Sue characters and have given me great reviews! ^_^