The next day Harry awoke and went down to breakfast to find that the course schedules were being passed out by Professor McGonagall. He sat down and examined his schedule:
Monday
9-o-clock - Herbology
11-o-clock – Care Of Magical Creatures
Lunch
1-o-clock – Charms
3-o-clock - Transfiguration
"The schedule's packed today!" Said Ron, who had just sat down next to Harry.
"Yeah," said Harry, "I hope we don't get too much homework."
"We always do. It's like the school's tradition: 'give each student the most homework on the first day of term,'" said Ron.
"Yeah," said Harry helping himself to pumpkin juice. "But at least we don't have any tests to study for this year."
"That doesn't mean anything!" Exclaimed Ron, "They had us studying for the O.W.L.'s in fourth year!"
"Okay…" The sky was still a pale gray and Harry wasn't sure if it was going to clear up by Herbology. Just as he looked up, the post arrived.
About two hundred different colored owls soared in each dropping packages and letters to their owners. Harry saw that Malfoy's eagle owl had given him a large array of sweets from home. Neville's owl showed up with a large package that Harry could only assume was the things that Neville had forgotten to bring to school.
A large barn owl arrived at the Gryffindor table just, as Hermione walked into the Hall, clutching the Daily Prophet in its beak. Hermione took the newspaper from it, deposited three silver sickles into the pouch around its neck, and watched it take flight again. Then, she unfurled the Prophet and opened it to read.
"What?" Said Ron, "not even a 'good morning' or 'nice to see you?'"
Hermione took no notice of him, but closed the paper and began to eat her toast.
"Why are you still getting that?" Harry asked.
"Just to make sure there's no bad news about Voldemort in there," she said calmly.
Silence followed her comment. It wasn't all that fun to talk about Voldemort after what he had Bellatrix do to Sirius. Harry and Ron continued to eat while Hermione folded up her paper.
A quarter of an hour later, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were making their way down the sloping lawns to the greenhouses. They assembled in front and were shortly joined by Professor Sprout. "Greenhouse six today!" She said as she came close enough for them to hear her.
"Horklump's!" She practically shouted as they all assembled around a table full of pinkish mushrooms covered in wiry black bristles. "Can anyone here explain to the class what a Horklump is?"
Immediately Hermione's hand shot into the air and she said, as though reading from a textbook, "A prodigious breeder, the Horklump will cover an average garden in a matter of days. It spreads sinewy tentacles rather than roots into the ground to search for its preferred food of earthworms. The Horklump is a favourite delicacy of gnomes but otherwise has no discernible use."
"Good girl!" Said Professor Sprout, "fifteen points to Gryffindor." Hermione beamed.
They spent the rest of the lesson seeing if they could touch the Horklump's without them sprouting their wiry bristles out of their backs. Ron managed to tap it with a feather for ten seconds before one of its tentacles rose out of the ground and slapped him on the face.
"I should have warned you," said Professor Sprout, "they don't like to be tickled."
As they made their way down to Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures, they saw three all-too familiar backs in front of them and knew that they must be having this class, once again, with the Slytherins.
As they approached, Draco Malfoy turned around and started. "Hello, Potter," he spat, "I can't wait to see what that great oaf's got planned for a lesson today!" Crabbe and Goyle snickered behind him.
"Where's your dad?" Asked Hermione, casually, "partying with his friends somewhere in a cell in Azkaban."
Harry could've sworn that the smile on Malfoy's face flickered, but he caught himself and said, "what do you know, you little Mudblood! With the Dementor's gone, my father will be out in no time." With that, he, Crabbe, and Goyle turned around and stalked off to the other side of the crowd of kids.
Just then, Hagrid came striding out of his hut, holding a small cage, "Got summat great fer you today!" He roared, "come in a bit closer, if yeh wan' a better look at 'em!"
The class closed in on Hagrid and the cage, which he placed on a tree stump. "Yeh migh' wanna put on yer dragon skin gloves fer this," he said. The class all dug into their bags and pulled out their gloves, which they hastily pulled over their hands.
"Alrigh', what I've got fer yeh today is three Billywig's," said Hagrid.
"Ooh!" Said Hermione, she was obviously the only one who knew what Billywig's were."
"Can anyone here tell me wha' a Billywig is?" Asked Hagrid.
Hermione's hand, once again, shot up into the air and she said, "Billywig's are native to Australia. They fly at a speed at such a rate that muggles hardly notice them until they've been stung. The Billywig's wings are attached to the top of its head and are rotated very fast so that it spins as it flies. At the bottom of the body is a long thin sting. Those who have been stung by a Billywig suffer giddiness followed by levitation. Generations of young Australian witches and wizards have attempted to catch Billywig's and provoke them into stinging in order to enjoy these side effects, though too many stings cause the victim to hover uncontrollably for days on end, and there is a severe allergic reaction, permanent floating may ensue."
"Very good, Hermione! Twenty points fer Gryffindor!" Said Hagrid, "now, if yeh get stung the effects won' last that long. Probably fer abou' an hour or so. Anyone wanna get stung?"
To Harry's great surprise, almost everyone in the class stepped forward with their arms outstretched.
* * *
An hour later, the Gryffindors traipsed up to the castle for lunch, each of them sporting small stinger holes on their hands and floating about two inches above the ground. By the time they made it to the great hall, though, the stings were wearing off and ever few minutes someone else would fall to the floor with a thud.
After lunch they made it to Charms where they were reviewing cheering charms. All of this happiness in one day, Harry thought that everyone would explode. Tiny little Professor Flitwick was very surprised to find that everyone was twice as happy as they should be when the charms were performed. But when they went to Transfiguration, however, the charms had very little effect when they found out that they had to write a twelve inch paper on exactly how to change a skunk into a pillow.
As Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way out of the classroom, once the bell had sounded, signaling dinner, Professor McGonagall called Harry back. "Potter! A word if you please."
Ron made to turn around and head back to Professor McGonagall with Harry, but stopped as if he wasn't sure if he should. "Yes, you may stay if you'd like, as well, Weasley."
Harry approached the Professor's desk expecting to be getting more homework (he still hadn't managed to make the outside of the skunk/pillow transfigure; it still had a black and white stripes and a tail).
"Potter, as you know, Angelina Johnson, the former quidditch captain, is not returning to Hogwarts this year." Harry was completely taken aback; he hadn't been expecting a quidditch talk from McGonagall.
"Yeah…" said Harry, not sure what she was getting at.
"Well, Potter, after thinking carefully about it, I think that you're the best one to be the team captain." Harry was in shock. He had always wondered what it would be like to be team captain but he never thought that he would be the one that McGonagall would choose.
He felt Ron's hand clap him on his back, "way to go, Harry!"
"Thanks, Professor!" Said Harry, not aware that he was stuttering. Professor McGonagall actually smiled at him, and he felt Ron's hand steering him out of the classroom.
Five minutes later, he slumped down in a seat in the Great Hall, still not aware of himself. Hermione took one look at him and said, "Harry! What's the matter?"
"He's just been made Quidditch team captain," said Ron from somewhere to his right.
"Oh, Harry! That's wonderful!"
"What's happened?" Ginny had just sat down.
"Harry's just been made the Quidditch team captain," said Hermione.
"Brilliant, Harry! Can I be beater?" Asked Ginny.
"Yeah," said Harry, "anything…"
Dinner was uneventful, besides Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell coming up to him and congratulating him, "McGonagall's just told us!"
That night, in the Common Room, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were trying to do their homework by the fire, but it seemed almost impossible with everyone coming up to Harry and congratulating him on becoming captain. It seemed as though the rumor of him being chosen had traveled throughout the Gryffindor house in no time at all.
Finally, at about eleven, Harry decided that enough was enough and he and Ron headed up to their dormitory, got into pajamas and laid down in their four-poster beds. Harry was staring up at the ceiling; at the shapes that the clouds made floating across the moon. He saw shapes within shapes…a face was staring down at him from above…a face that he knew. He stretched out a hand to touch it and knew who it was…Sirius was looking down at him. He could see his godfather's face clearer than ever. He saw the picture of Sirius at his parent's wedding, Sirius as the shaggy black dog, Sirius in Grimmauld Place, Sirius dueling with Bellatrix…the spell hitting him…him falling through the veil…
Harry woke with a start. He sat bolt up, panting furiously and drenched in a cold sweat. He had lived through this nightmare a dozen times before…his godfather's last moments being replayed inside his head.
He opened the hangings on his bed, fumbled around on his bedside table with his hand, trying to find his glasses, and got, as quietly as he could, out of bed. He tiptoed over to his trunk and opened it to reveal a mess of his books, quills, ink, parchment, and clothes. He fumbled around, almost blinded by the darkness, trying to find it. He knew it was there somewhere. He had been keeping it here all of this time, ever since he had smashed it last term. All he wanted was a little sign of hope that Sirius was alive and that he, Harry, could do something to rescue him. Finally, he found what he was looking for.
He pulled out a small velvet bag, went back over to his bed, and sat down. Next, he found his wand and opened the bag. Inside, where a dozen or so tiny glass pieces that had belonged to a mirror – in fact, it was the two-way mirror that Sirius had given him right before he went on the Knight Bus to get back to Hogwarts, last year.
He took out the smashed mirror, piece by piece and laid the pieces out on his bed. He had smashed the mirror the previous school year, out of frustration when he looked in it and knew that he would never see his godfather again. He pointed his wand at the jagged pieces and whispered, "Repairo!"
Almost at once the tiny pieces flew up and connected together to make the mirror whole again. It was like looking at a jigsaw puzzle being put together before Harry's eyes. Once it was whole again, Harry took the mirror off his bed and muttered, "Lumos!"
His wand lit so that he could look at the mirror clearly. Making sure that his bed's hangings were blocking him from view he looked into the mirror and saw his own reflection. "Sirius Black," he muttered, hoping that the mirror would show him something that it hadn't the last time.
He stared into the mirror for almost five minutes. Not a single picture flashed before his eyes, except for his own, drooping eyelids. He was just about to put the mirror back into his trunk when he saw something. It cold have been a trick of the light, for he had been moving the mirror at the time. But, no, it couldn't be!
He was sure that he had seen something. It couldn't have been Sirius. It was milk-white and almost transparent…like a ghost. He held the mirror up to his face, so that it was touching his nose and whispered again, "Sirius Black."
Nothing happened. Not one single thing moved before him. But he was sure that he had seen something, a flicker of his godfather. It could have been his mind playing tricks on him…but no. He was sure that he saw it with his own eyes.
He wrapped the mirror in the velvet bag, tucked it back into his trunk, extinguished his wand, and placed his glasses on his bedside table. Then, he laid down, staring at the open window next to him, watching the faint moonlight flow through the window and wondering…if what he saw had been real.
Thanx 2:
April: Thanx for the review and I fixed Seamus's name!
Jess: Keep dancing for me!
