Currently Being Revised
A/N: This fic is being revised and edited at the moment. You might find some chapters missing, so I suggest that you not read The Lion's Serpent until I am done polishing it up. (I am currently revising each chapter for better reading.) Sorry for the inconvenience.
Thank you, for your patience.
Zoe Elizabeth
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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Rating: R
Length: ??
A/N: Currently being revised. (Read at your own risk)
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"The Lion's Serpent"
Chapter One
'An Anonymous Note'
It was a sweltering hot Saturday at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The faint breeze halted at the large oak doors, while the thick towering halls insulating the large castle only added to the day's continuous scorching. Every student was found outside, either by the lake (or in), sunbathing in the blazing sun, shading under one of the many trees (ancient and queer), tossing enchanted water balloons at each other, running barefoot and burnt against the velvety lawn, or cruising topless with their posses on their flying broomsticks.
All were outside enjoying--or cursing--the sweltering sun except for a few. Three, to be exact...
Behind the Invisibility section of the Hogwarts Library, hid a scrawny seventh year with lean sinewy arms, and his rugged, broad-shouldered redhead friend. Careful as to avoid being seen by Madam Pince who had forbid the two Gryffindors from entering the Library on the weekends for the next three weeks because of their foolish attempt to sneak 'Quaffled Queens' out of the library the day before, Harry and Ron tried hard to get a certain someone's attention.
"Psst, Hermione… Hermione… hey, Hermione! I don't think she can hear me," Ron whispered to Harry.
"Well, throw something at her; just get her attention," Harry snapped.
"Harry, she's studying, she wouldn't look up if your life depended on it. Well… unless, of course, you had a book for a head," Ron grinned. Harry nudged his friend in the ribs for his insipid joke and resumed attempting to get Hermione's attention.
Hermione had been in the library for eight straight hours studying, reading, and memorizing every book she came across. It was boiling hot inside and she was in the library playing Madam Pince's shadow. Well, actually, Hermione had 'accidentally' answered one of Snape's questions wrong the previous day in class, and he had come down on her hard.
"Well, isn't this a surprise," he said in his slipperiest tone yet. "It looks like Hogwarts' greatest mind can't tell the difference between a Pogsbire and a Bongsgit."
Hermione, of course knew the answer; it was the Cunsbot. A Pogsbire was a premature Bongsgit, and when it matured it lost its Cunsbot, the rubbery pouch behind its ears that produced Bots pus, which they spit out when they felt threatened. It was essential to brewing many antidotes for food poisoning, but before he asked, she was oddly thinking about her relationship with Ron and how it ended, and when she opened her mouth to answer, the words 'Ron's butt' came out instead. Snape had a field day, and made sure she left his class wishing she wouldn't show up the following week. So she took refuge in the library that night and early Saturday morning, squeezing nonsense material into her already jam-packed brain.
Meanwhile, Harry and Ron had found an anonymous note in Ron's Transfiguration text, telling them Malfoy and his overgrown cronies had found a way into the Gryffindor Tower and were planning on sneaking in there at exactly midnight in order to let out enough Filibuster Fireworks and Dungbombs to wake up the whole House and suffocate them in their sleep. They had approximately eight hours to come up with a brilliant plan that would make Malfoy wish he never stepped foot in Gryffindor Tower. All they needed, of course, was a brilliant mind--but she was busy making love to 'Hogwarts, A History' for the umpteenth time.
"If she paid that much attention to me when we were going out, I would've died of bliss," Ron said annoyingly to the eager Harry next to him.
"Oh, not this shit again," Harry hissed. "Ron, for the hundredth time, it's over, get over it. Now we need to convince her that we won't do anything rash, and that we're only trying to do what's right." Ron had a huge grin spread over his face.
"Sure."
"Well, it is against the rules to enter into houses that you don't belong to, right? So tell her Malfoy's up to no good, and that we need her to come up with a plan that'll ensure he got what he deserved for trespassing."
"Something ingenious," Ron interrupted, already picturing a hexed Malfoy dangling from Gryffindor Tower with his body parts all in the wrong places.
"She'll understand, right? I mean you and I both know that Snape wouldn't punish him for shit. He'd probably even kiss Malfoy for being so bloody brilliant."
"Of course she'll understand, Harry," Ron assured his friend with a pat on the back. "I mean, we're talking about Hermione here."
"ARE YOU CRAZY? There is absolutely no way I'm doing such a thing, and if the two of you go up there tonight you'll both get expelled, because after this I'm going straight to Professor McGonagall," Hermione fumed. "I can't believe you two! It's our final year and you still haven't grown up. If you think that I'm going to let you abuse my title as Head Girl for the purpose of your entertainment, then you're in for a surprise, because if I catch either of you with so much as a toe out of bounds, I will knock so much points off this house you'll be catching snitches up your arse to get them back."
The wide-eyed pair was so shocked at their friend's reaction that they backed up into a wall and cowered at the fuming Hermione.
"Look at me! I mean it, look at me, boys." Both of them looked at every feature on her face except her glaring eyes. "I am so angry with the two of you right now…" Hermione stepped closer to the cowering pair before they flinched and in a moment of impulse, Ron, cowardly grabbed Harry's arm. Harry nudged his friend and stared chillingly at an enraged Hermione. "The two of you have yet to feel my rage, and I am this close, this close…" she said with her hand close to her face and her index finger centimeters away from her thumb, "…to throwing the two of you out." Ron gawped at Hermione and her expected/unexpected reaction.
"Close your mouth, Ron; I can see your tonsils from here," she spat. Ron quickly shut his mouth and dared not to answer back. They felt guilty because she was right; in a way, they were hoping that whatever they—well, Hermione--was going to come up with, they would get away with it because she was the Head Girl and their best friend. Obviously, they were wrong because they winced at the very sight of her fuming over them in her private quarters issued to her alone as Head Girl.
In a moment of idiocy, Ron raised his hand to protest. "But… Malfoy… he's… tonight… Dungbusters… Filibombs… you just can't…"
Harry clapped his hand around Ron's mouth and forced a smile on his nervous face. "Finish that sentence, Weasley, and I'll post you head first on the bulletin board," she snarled.
Hermione stepped back and sat down in her Transfigured plush swivel chair. She buried her red face in her hands. She wasn't really angry that the boys had come to her with their plan. She had actually thought it was a great one, but she had been so furious at Snape and his remarks from the previous day that she lashed out at anyone who came to talk to her about anything that was short of an emergency or tutoring.
She was especially angry with Malfoy and that smug look he had on his face when Snape came down on her. She knew he was just itching to say something to her so she picked up her things and left seconds after the bell rang, but she knew it was just a stall; he'd catch her sooner or later, which he did unfortunately at dinner in the Great Hall.
"So tell me Granger," he said scathingly, "does Weasley's ass really spit pus when it sees you, or does it have a rubbery pouch to have reminded you of a pogsbire?"
Malfoy's flanking goons guffawed out loud nudging each other in the sides as if Draco's criticism was the funniest they had heard yet. Neville, who had grown balls over the past year, stood up quickly from his seat while an off-guard Crabbe and Goyle were still nudging each other like idiots.
"Hey Crabbe, was that really f-funny or did M-Malfoy pay you to laugh?" The whole Gryffindor table broke out in laughter. The smug look on Malfoy's face turned into a narrowed glare, and Crabbe, flushed with anger, would have pummeled Longbottom if they had not been so outnumbered and so far from their table. Neville received lots of pats on his shoulders and victory nudges for his bravery from all over the table. "Whoa! Good one, Neville," said Seamus Finnigan. "Do another one."
"Yes, Longbottom… please do," said a dreadful voice from behind them that shut the table up instantaneously. Snape was standing behind them arms folded, back ridiculously straight, and eyes blacker than ever. The whole table had sat down while Neville still stood flabbergasted, shaking before an intimidating Snape.
"Well, it's a pity you don't put as much effort into my Potions class as you do rehearsing your comebacks, Longbottom." Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were beside themselves. "Return to your seats," Snape said to his Slytherin students before turning back to the Gryffindor table. "The next time you feel like expressing your Gryffindor side, send out a memo so the other houses could prepare themselves from your - multifaceted comebacks." Neville's head seemed to have shrunk a foot or two. Ron and Harry glared violently at their Potions Master, but they weren't alone. Hermione's anger was now colossal.
This was actually a perfect time for her to get back at Malfoy for being such a jerk, and thinking that she would take care of him herself, she would just have to make sure Ron and Harry stayed away from the top of the tower that night. She looked up at her two friends, who were obviously waiting for her to snap at them for still being there.
"Look, Harry, Ron," she said softly, "I need you to promise me that you won't go up there tonight. It'll be after hours, and if McGonagall catches you there, you'll both be in big trouble. Now what I'm going to do is tell Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape what Malfoy is planning, and have her wait there for him. If he shows up, she'll take care of him, and if he doesn't… well, they'll just have me to deal with. I don't want the two of you there when all this is going on, Snape will find out if you were there, so you can bet he'll be certain the two of you had something to do with it and probably get you sacked as well. Harry, please, just wait until morning to find out what happens to Malfoy. Snape will be expecting you to be there, so just stay away."
Harry and Ron exchanged defeated glances and nodded silently before turning to go. "I'm serious, Harry; stay away from there. I'll let McGonagall know that the two of you informed me of Malfoy's plan and to look out for you in case you come up, and warn anyone else who knows because they also will be in trouble." Ron opened his mouth to protest, when Harry nudged him in the ribs and grabbed his arm, pulling him out the room.
"What are you doing? Can you believe her? The nerve."
"Damn it, Ron, sometimes you can be so dense! Did you forget about my cloak?" Ron, at first, looked around, almost certain that Hermione had heard him, then turned to his friend and smiled for the first time since they had told Hermione about Malfoy.
Hermione was relieved when they left; she, of course, was trying to get rid of them so she could formulate a plan to get back at Malfoy without leaving any tracks. She knew she could do anything to Malfoy and he couldn't tell anyone, because that would mean admitting that he was in the Gryffindor Tower. So she let Harry and Ron think that she was going to go to Professors McGonagall and Snape so she could sneak up there and take care of the spoiled little bastard herself. What Hermione failed to ask Harry and Ron was where and from whom they attained this information.
Quarter past eleven, and Hermione had come up with a plan for Malfoy. Nothing that would hurt him, of course--just something that would burn him with embarrassment as he had always done to her. She would sneak up to the tower at quarter to twelve and wait for Malfoy. When or if he showed up, she'd shove him into the Gryffindor prefects' bathroom at the top of the tower and ward the door against any intrusion.
She'd then stun him, bind him, strip him and transfigure his clothes into Pansy Parkinson's last Yule ball gown and his shoes into 5-inch stilettos, and the metal hanger she hid under her robes into a tiara. She'd cast a quick dressing spell and the Morbilicorpus on him. Then she would take him downstairs to the common room and hang him above the hearth for all the Gryffindor students to find in the morning. She knew she was being a bit ruthless, but she had already made her mind up.
'Don't plan something if you can't carry it out,' she thought.
At half past eleven, Hermione quickly changed her mind and decided to go up early in case Malfoy decided to get there before midnight. On her way up, she started to panic, wondering if she should turn back. 'You're the Head Girl, for gods' sake,' she thought nervously. "No," she said to herself. "He's going to pay. Besides, it's too late to turn back now, Hermione. Who'd find out?"
When Hermione arrived near the bathroom where she was to execute her plan, she slid inside, closed the door, and stood with her ear pressed against it so she could hear anyone coming or going in the hallway. She heard nothing for a good half an hour, and was about to give up and return to her room when she faintly heard the sound of movement outside the door. Hermione shook her head and pressed her ear closer to the door in case she was just hearing things from being too tired. She definitely heard the sound of something moving outside, but there weren't any voices heard whispering, which she found very odd. It was definitely Malfoy, she thought. She braced herself for what she was about to do, and waited for another minute for Malfoy to at least accomplish his misdemeanor before sacking nailing the bastard.
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