Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Hogwarts and everything in it. I own the plot...and the Malfoy Manor (which wont make its appearance for a while). A/N: This chapter turned out all funky so I'm re-posting it. I'm really sorry if the beginning is all clumped together. It's not like that in Microsoft Word...
Review please!!!!!!!!!
Much love, peace, and Juicy Juice,
JuicyJuice
"Harry?" Alicia called from the air, "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," replied a somewhat embarrassed Harry, "It wasn't a bad fall, you know."
"Oh sure, I know, but that's the third time you've fallen off your broom today! You never fall off. Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey—"she said as she landed.
"I'm fine, Alicia. A little tired, maybe, but fine. If I go to the Hospital Wing I'll be there for weeks. You know how Madam Pomfrey is—"
"I insist—as a concerned friend and as Quidditch Captain. We can't risk anything happening to our Seeker!" she said. The other players had now landed to see what was going on and whether he was all right. Harry already felt stupid for falling so many times, he had just lost control for a few seconds, and he didn't need more shame. He wished they would just leave him alone.
Alicia finally bullied him into visiting the Hospital Wing, with help from the other players. If he really thought about it, he didn't feel as fine as he had claimed. He was slightly dizzy and could use a rest.
As he began the trek up a particularly long staircase his feet felt heavier and heavier and his head began to throb. He climbed slower, pausing to rest more and more often. And then finally, near the top, he couldn't handle it anymore. He fell asleep, standing straight up, and toppled the whole 30 feet down the stairs.
The only person to witness this painful occurrence was none other than Draco Malfoy. He hurried over to Harry with all the speed that a concerned friend might have had in the same situation, but after that his reaction was not that of a friend, but one of the spiteful enemy that he was. He kicked the limp form and when it did not move to get up, or even stir, a horrible laugh echoed from the throat of the pale, blond boy. The laugh was chilling and loud. It echoed off the walls of the wide corridor and reached a farther distance than Malfoy would have liked.
Snape hurried down the hall to reach the noise. The laugh made him nervous—and curious; he did not have a good feeling about it. Snape whipped around the corner. What met his eyes caused him a momentary inner conflict. Interfering would mean taking points from his own house, and reprimanding Malfoy, a boy who, in Snape's unbiased opinion, did not deserve it. Then a small voice of reason told him that it seemed Malfoy had seriously harmed Potter and, much as he hated Harry, that could be very bad. The savage kick from Malfoy to the pathetic heap on the floor determined Snape's choice.
"MALFOY!" he barked, spit flying from his mouth in fury, "What are you doing?" He swept forward furiously. Malfoy reddened and began to mutter what seemed to be random words, "What happened?" said Snape fiercely, glaring down at Malfoy and speaking through gritted teeth.
"Professor, er, well..." was all he could come up with. He wasn't used to the way Snape was acting toward him.
"Detention!" Snape bellowed, "Fifty points will be taken from Slytherin! That is how disgusted I am, Malfoy, and I'm sure the Headmaster would be fascinated to know about this. Now go! Just—go!" Malfoy left in a huff, muttering angrily about what his father would do when he found out about this, but the words were half-formed, because even the speaker knew they were useless. Had either of them been less furious, they might have noticed a concerned, bushy-haired someone peeking over the railing above.
"Moblicorpus!" Snape murmured with his wand pointed at Harry. Harry rose up, still unconscious, and floated a few feet above the ground. Snape walked him to the Hospital Wing, glaring at him the entire way and wondering why he had just saved James Potter's son. He quickly explained what had happened to Madam Pomfrey and swept off to his office to think of the nastiest detention he had ever given for Malfoy.
Hermione rushed to the Hospital Wing as fast as she could, arriving just after Snape left. She knew that Malfoy was awful and she was hardly surprised that he would curse Harry. It was Snape's behavior that surprised her. He had stopped Malfoy, saved Harry, and taken points from his own house. Maybe Snape wasn't that bad, grumpy old bat that he was.
"What's wrong with him?" Hermione asked.
"I hate to admit it, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said with a sigh and a hint of worry, "But I do not know. That Malfoy boy cursed him, according to Professor Snape, though he didn't witness the actual attack so he did not hear the curse. It's something rare; I can't identify it. I'll have to call on the Headmaster." She bustled off into her office for a moment. She returned quickly.
Madam Pomfrey seemed to think that, if she couldn't cure him, she should use all her energy making sure he was comfortable. Until Dumbledore arrived, she was continually and nervously plumping his pillow and wiping his forehead with a wet cloth.
'If Madam Pomfrey can't cure it, not to mention recognize it, who can?' thought Hermione anxiously, 'What if he can't be helped?'
Dumbledore showed up a few moments later. The way he was examining Harry reminded Hermione of the he examined the Petrified Mrs. Norris. He went about it in the same way, poking and prodding Harry all over with his wand. Hermione only wished that he would finish quickly to tell her what's wrong.
At long last, he stopped, looking much graver than either Madam Pomfrey or Hermione had hoped.
"It is not clear," Dumbledore said, "And nothing is certain, but I have an idea of what it might—what it probably is."
"What is that, Professor?" Hermione asked, noticing Madam Pomfrey paling dramatically and putting a hand over her mouth, but Dumbledore either did not hear her or did not want to explain, for he turned to the nurse.
"You said Malfoy did it?"
"According to Professor Snape he was the one. Severus found him kicking Potter, who was in a heap on the ground, and laughing like a madman," said Madam Pomfrey.
"I saw him, Professor, "Hermione piped in, "Well, actually I didn't see him hurt Harry; I just came over because I heard Sna—Professor Snape yelling."
"I believe the two of you, don't get me wrong," said Dumbledore, "But I just don't understand how he could have done it. For one, it is advanced magic that a Sixth Year almost certainly could not pull off. Secondly, Image Magic was banned so long ago that all—or nearly all—the books on it have been burned...Although, knowing the Malfoy family...No. Draco could not have done it, not if it was Image Magic."
"Then who do you think it was?" Hermione asked, knowing and dreading the answer.
"Voldemort."
Review please!!!!!!!!!
Much love, peace, and Juicy Juice,
JuicyJuice
"Harry?" Alicia called from the air, "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," replied a somewhat embarrassed Harry, "It wasn't a bad fall, you know."
"Oh sure, I know, but that's the third time you've fallen off your broom today! You never fall off. Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey—"she said as she landed.
"I'm fine, Alicia. A little tired, maybe, but fine. If I go to the Hospital Wing I'll be there for weeks. You know how Madam Pomfrey is—"
"I insist—as a concerned friend and as Quidditch Captain. We can't risk anything happening to our Seeker!" she said. The other players had now landed to see what was going on and whether he was all right. Harry already felt stupid for falling so many times, he had just lost control for a few seconds, and he didn't need more shame. He wished they would just leave him alone.
Alicia finally bullied him into visiting the Hospital Wing, with help from the other players. If he really thought about it, he didn't feel as fine as he had claimed. He was slightly dizzy and could use a rest.
As he began the trek up a particularly long staircase his feet felt heavier and heavier and his head began to throb. He climbed slower, pausing to rest more and more often. And then finally, near the top, he couldn't handle it anymore. He fell asleep, standing straight up, and toppled the whole 30 feet down the stairs.
The only person to witness this painful occurrence was none other than Draco Malfoy. He hurried over to Harry with all the speed that a concerned friend might have had in the same situation, but after that his reaction was not that of a friend, but one of the spiteful enemy that he was. He kicked the limp form and when it did not move to get up, or even stir, a horrible laugh echoed from the throat of the pale, blond boy. The laugh was chilling and loud. It echoed off the walls of the wide corridor and reached a farther distance than Malfoy would have liked.
Snape hurried down the hall to reach the noise. The laugh made him nervous—and curious; he did not have a good feeling about it. Snape whipped around the corner. What met his eyes caused him a momentary inner conflict. Interfering would mean taking points from his own house, and reprimanding Malfoy, a boy who, in Snape's unbiased opinion, did not deserve it. Then a small voice of reason told him that it seemed Malfoy had seriously harmed Potter and, much as he hated Harry, that could be very bad. The savage kick from Malfoy to the pathetic heap on the floor determined Snape's choice.
"MALFOY!" he barked, spit flying from his mouth in fury, "What are you doing?" He swept forward furiously. Malfoy reddened and began to mutter what seemed to be random words, "What happened?" said Snape fiercely, glaring down at Malfoy and speaking through gritted teeth.
"Professor, er, well..." was all he could come up with. He wasn't used to the way Snape was acting toward him.
"Detention!" Snape bellowed, "Fifty points will be taken from Slytherin! That is how disgusted I am, Malfoy, and I'm sure the Headmaster would be fascinated to know about this. Now go! Just—go!" Malfoy left in a huff, muttering angrily about what his father would do when he found out about this, but the words were half-formed, because even the speaker knew they were useless. Had either of them been less furious, they might have noticed a concerned, bushy-haired someone peeking over the railing above.
"Moblicorpus!" Snape murmured with his wand pointed at Harry. Harry rose up, still unconscious, and floated a few feet above the ground. Snape walked him to the Hospital Wing, glaring at him the entire way and wondering why he had just saved James Potter's son. He quickly explained what had happened to Madam Pomfrey and swept off to his office to think of the nastiest detention he had ever given for Malfoy.
Hermione rushed to the Hospital Wing as fast as she could, arriving just after Snape left. She knew that Malfoy was awful and she was hardly surprised that he would curse Harry. It was Snape's behavior that surprised her. He had stopped Malfoy, saved Harry, and taken points from his own house. Maybe Snape wasn't that bad, grumpy old bat that he was.
"What's wrong with him?" Hermione asked.
"I hate to admit it, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said with a sigh and a hint of worry, "But I do not know. That Malfoy boy cursed him, according to Professor Snape, though he didn't witness the actual attack so he did not hear the curse. It's something rare; I can't identify it. I'll have to call on the Headmaster." She bustled off into her office for a moment. She returned quickly.
Madam Pomfrey seemed to think that, if she couldn't cure him, she should use all her energy making sure he was comfortable. Until Dumbledore arrived, she was continually and nervously plumping his pillow and wiping his forehead with a wet cloth.
'If Madam Pomfrey can't cure it, not to mention recognize it, who can?' thought Hermione anxiously, 'What if he can't be helped?'
Dumbledore showed up a few moments later. The way he was examining Harry reminded Hermione of the he examined the Petrified Mrs. Norris. He went about it in the same way, poking and prodding Harry all over with his wand. Hermione only wished that he would finish quickly to tell her what's wrong.
At long last, he stopped, looking much graver than either Madam Pomfrey or Hermione had hoped.
"It is not clear," Dumbledore said, "And nothing is certain, but I have an idea of what it might—what it probably is."
"What is that, Professor?" Hermione asked, noticing Madam Pomfrey paling dramatically and putting a hand over her mouth, but Dumbledore either did not hear her or did not want to explain, for he turned to the nurse.
"You said Malfoy did it?"
"According to Professor Snape he was the one. Severus found him kicking Potter, who was in a heap on the ground, and laughing like a madman," said Madam Pomfrey.
"I saw him, Professor, "Hermione piped in, "Well, actually I didn't see him hurt Harry; I just came over because I heard Sna—Professor Snape yelling."
"I believe the two of you, don't get me wrong," said Dumbledore, "But I just don't understand how he could have done it. For one, it is advanced magic that a Sixth Year almost certainly could not pull off. Secondly, Image Magic was banned so long ago that all—or nearly all—the books on it have been burned...Although, knowing the Malfoy family...No. Draco could not have done it, not if it was Image Magic."
"Then who do you think it was?" Hermione asked, knowing and dreading the answer.
"Voldemort."