One Tin Soldier
Chapter Ten: Alarm Clocks, Spiders, and Other Things That Explode
Disclaimer: I woke up one day and wasn't J.K. Rowling. I was sad, so I decided to write Fanfiction, and this is what you get!
~~~~~
It seemed like little hot spikes were prodding into his eyes. Groaning, Harry stifled a yawn and looked at the ceiling blearily. Something soft and irritable was thumping against his chest hooting loudly. He looked exhaustedly at Pig, who was flipping excitedly and chewing on what looked like a field mouse. Harry closed one eye again, groaning, before looking at his small metal clock with the other.
The little numbers read 11:30 and the date August 31.
Pigwig didn't even have time to screech before he hit the opposite wall as Harry shot up. Muttering apologetically at the little bird, he began to throw everything in sight into his trunk, panicking, irritated thoughts racing through his head as he glared at the bleary half-light outside. He looked menacingly at the clock at his bedside, wishing it would explode for not waking him earlier.
The little clock burst into flames.
Harry leapt back in sheer terror, screaming, and at once slammed his hands over his eyes in horror. He thumped onto the uncarpeted floor, looking into the blankness of his palms. He had no idea how long he just sat there, but after what had to have been at least five minuets, a loud snort issued from the hallway. From what he could hear, Fred, George, and Ron had apparently just shared a very good joke, and he supposed they were coming to enlighten him.
Lovely thing that he had apparently just developed heat vision. That would really get a laugh.
The door opened, and feeling rather stupid, Harry turned vaguely in their direction, hands still firmly over his eyes, sitting on the floor. He could smell the smoldering pile of metal and gears from his left, and groaned. This was going to be rich.
"... Morning..." Harry grimaced at the sounds they began to make.
Fred giggled slightly. "I say Harry...." he twittered a bit, "what are you doing?"
"Practicing Yoga?" George seemed calm, although Harry could detect an extremely amused note in his voice.
The was a heavy thump on the floor, and Ron proceeded to gasp for air between yelps of laughter. Harry began to wish he could glare at them.
"Well.... you see, it's really quite funny, my alarm didn't work, and so I woke up late and happened to be very cross about it. I happened to look at my clock and apparently I have heat vision because it exploded all over the ruddy room, so now I'm sitting here and-- WHAT IN THE HELL IS SO FUNNY?"
There were two more thumps and pained laughter. Harry, at this point, really didn't care if he would kill them. If what he suspected was true, he rather wanted to.
"OH BLIMEY, GEORGE, DID YOU HEAR THAT?"
"HEAT VISION?"
Ron was quietly sobbing with giggles into his slippers.
"FRED YOU'RE A GENIUS!"
"Well, yes, but.... HEAT VISION!"
"OY!" Ron yelped, "AN EXPLODING ALARM CLOCK!" he wiped a tear from his eye, "Brilliant..."
The boys continued to roll in helpless merriment until they noticed Harry was looming over them, looking fit to kill.
What would have ensued could have become extremely violent if Hermione and Ginny hadn't come into the room calling the boys to breakfast.
Harry took a look at his other clock on his bedside and relaxed. It was still August 31 but it was only Seven in the Morning. He went downstairs, reminding himself to slip a rubber spider into each of the twin's eggs. The sight of one alone would be punishment enough for Ron.
As they wondered downstairs, he thought on the past few weeks. He was still making progress on his Occlumency, and had, on yet another occasion, halted Voldemort's advances.
As far as Hermione was concerned, the further in time from the event Harry became, the less it bothered him. He pushed most related concerns to the back of his mind successfully, and despite the fact that he felt oddly emotional around her, nothing truly symptomatic of a crush occurred again.
Somehow, the assignments had been finished, he had become well acquainted yet again with his Firebolt, and there seemed very few worries in his life aside from packing.
Only one little phrase bothered him. Sometimes it made it difficult to sleep. The words taunted his mind at strange times, and at others he would feel ill. He was sure he would be sent to speak to Dumbledore on the matter upon his return, but Harry was just as determined to not seem panicked. He refused to owl his Headmaster, particularly one whom he was rather cross with, about some foolish number of words that might have been part of a dream.
~If he loses his means to cross the defenses, then he cannot survive, cannot kill.~
Rather upset for thinking about it, Harry stuffed the spiders into the two piles of eggs and sat down huffily next to Ron and Hermione. He buttered a muffin vehemently and stuffed it into his mouth, waiting irritably for the twins to tuck in.
It began with Ron screaming and ended with Mrs. Weasley extinguishing two molten piles of goo with her wand. Little black spots clung to the ceiling everywhere, and Hermione had some rubber spider in her hair. Ron was reduced to a sobbing state of terror, and refused to touch his eggs throughout breakfast.
All in all it had gone rather well, Harry admitted, as he scratched one red rubber eyeball from his fingernail. The four of them received a rather severe dressing-down for using explosives at the dinner table, Harry for providing the spiders, and Fred and George for making them combustible. Ron just looked rather pale.
Most of the family went back upstairs for packing, but Harry held back for his lessons, considerably less worried for his recently revealed skills in intensive luggaging. Hermione, too, loomed beside Lupin, yet again well prepared and having packed days ago. She toted a few of her mysterious packages beneath her arms and looked about with the appearance of someone hoping they are not noticed.
Harry slipped outside for his Occlumency, and Hermione moved somewhere into the back of the house.
Moodey was pleased today, either because he was losing his charge, or because he didn't have to worry about losing him. He laughed several times when Harry blocked his attempts easily, and grinned toothily when Harry had a particularly disturbing look at a memory involving a salad fork and a member of the Dark Mark who wouldn't talk, all of which resulted on a dust landing in the garden. He sat up, smiling at his teacher.
"Looking forward to being rid of me, sir?" Harry grinned beneath his bangs, brushing back his hair. "I'll bet you'll be glad to get back to your buisness."
Moodey looked at him as if he were quite stupid and laughed again. Harry, not to be outdone, simply returned the laugh and shook the dust from his hair.
"What do you mean, being rid of you? I haven't even begun to teach you!"
Harry paused. "But you're leaving..."
"Oh, I thought Granger showed you that clipping of hers... I thought you knew."
Harry paused, not really understanding what he was saying at all. He stood there, scratching his head like a chimpanzee. Apparently his teacher felt sorry for him, and spoke up soon after.
"I'm the new Dark Art's teacher, Harry!"
Before this really processed, his head fell a bit to the side and he stared for a moment. Moodey took a sip from his flask and waited patiently.
"... well?..."
"Oh..." Harry looked blankly, then smiled, and began to laugh. "Malfoy is going to piss himself red when he sees you!" He continued to chuckle heartily, and had his mind rooted for it.
He woke up with a splitting headache and Moodey looking rather grave.
"Be careful, Harry, you have to be far more vigilant than that." He tone had the ashen quality of a burnt house. Harry rose, angered, and kicked the soil heavily.
"Damn!" He spat viciously.
"You know you are most vulnerable when you are feeling high emotion, same as he has been previously. You must use care, in any case, when you feel intensely about something."
He glared. "I can handle it."
"Good lord, as a prepubescent boy you should only be worried about, oh, every moment of your life..." Moodey muttered under his breath.
Harry's face turned red. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
Moodey turned around, and before he knew it, Harry was on the ground again. He stood up, yelling irritably, and this time a heavy front fell over him, even if he couldn't see it. Moodey smiled inwardly.
Harry was halfway off of his feet when he caught himself and sent Moodey through a wall. Laughing, the Auror told him he was the fourteenth person to have broken his left arm. Harry had a horrid vision of something vaguely involving seven disembowled Azkaban prisoners, and politely lost his lunch in a nearbye bush.
They two of them stumbled inside to sit before an extremely unhappy Molly Weasley, tapping her wand against her palm, lips pursed tight.
"Look at it this way, Harry, that look is reserved for family members!" Moodey whispered into his ear.
Harry didn't know if he felt lucky, because he was too occupied stifling the urge to run.
He manages a horrid smile, showing the gap where he had lost a tooth in one of their scuffles. Her frown deepened, and he sunk silently deeper into his chair, bracing himself.
~~~~~
Despite the fact that the regrowth of his tooth could have been made less painful, Harry found himself having a comparatively good evening. He was relieved to learn later the reason that none of the children had received a letter of appointment for student office was because of a specific request made by both Ron, and curiously enough Hermione, against the offer. Only Ginny was awarded to place of Prefect, and was giggling accordingly when she finally broke the news over dinner the final evening.
Yawning, Harry leaned back in his seat an relaxed. The quiet banter around him bubbled on, and closing his eyes, he dozed off.
~~~~~
A/N: Yay?
Chapter Ten: Alarm Clocks, Spiders, and Other Things That Explode
Disclaimer: I woke up one day and wasn't J.K. Rowling. I was sad, so I decided to write Fanfiction, and this is what you get!
~~~~~
It seemed like little hot spikes were prodding into his eyes. Groaning, Harry stifled a yawn and looked at the ceiling blearily. Something soft and irritable was thumping against his chest hooting loudly. He looked exhaustedly at Pig, who was flipping excitedly and chewing on what looked like a field mouse. Harry closed one eye again, groaning, before looking at his small metal clock with the other.
The little numbers read 11:30 and the date August 31.
Pigwig didn't even have time to screech before he hit the opposite wall as Harry shot up. Muttering apologetically at the little bird, he began to throw everything in sight into his trunk, panicking, irritated thoughts racing through his head as he glared at the bleary half-light outside. He looked menacingly at the clock at his bedside, wishing it would explode for not waking him earlier.
The little clock burst into flames.
Harry leapt back in sheer terror, screaming, and at once slammed his hands over his eyes in horror. He thumped onto the uncarpeted floor, looking into the blankness of his palms. He had no idea how long he just sat there, but after what had to have been at least five minuets, a loud snort issued from the hallway. From what he could hear, Fred, George, and Ron had apparently just shared a very good joke, and he supposed they were coming to enlighten him.
Lovely thing that he had apparently just developed heat vision. That would really get a laugh.
The door opened, and feeling rather stupid, Harry turned vaguely in their direction, hands still firmly over his eyes, sitting on the floor. He could smell the smoldering pile of metal and gears from his left, and groaned. This was going to be rich.
"... Morning..." Harry grimaced at the sounds they began to make.
Fred giggled slightly. "I say Harry...." he twittered a bit, "what are you doing?"
"Practicing Yoga?" George seemed calm, although Harry could detect an extremely amused note in his voice.
The was a heavy thump on the floor, and Ron proceeded to gasp for air between yelps of laughter. Harry began to wish he could glare at them.
"Well.... you see, it's really quite funny, my alarm didn't work, and so I woke up late and happened to be very cross about it. I happened to look at my clock and apparently I have heat vision because it exploded all over the ruddy room, so now I'm sitting here and-- WHAT IN THE HELL IS SO FUNNY?"
There were two more thumps and pained laughter. Harry, at this point, really didn't care if he would kill them. If what he suspected was true, he rather wanted to.
"OH BLIMEY, GEORGE, DID YOU HEAR THAT?"
"HEAT VISION?"
Ron was quietly sobbing with giggles into his slippers.
"FRED YOU'RE A GENIUS!"
"Well, yes, but.... HEAT VISION!"
"OY!" Ron yelped, "AN EXPLODING ALARM CLOCK!" he wiped a tear from his eye, "Brilliant..."
The boys continued to roll in helpless merriment until they noticed Harry was looming over them, looking fit to kill.
What would have ensued could have become extremely violent if Hermione and Ginny hadn't come into the room calling the boys to breakfast.
Harry took a look at his other clock on his bedside and relaxed. It was still August 31 but it was only Seven in the Morning. He went downstairs, reminding himself to slip a rubber spider into each of the twin's eggs. The sight of one alone would be punishment enough for Ron.
As they wondered downstairs, he thought on the past few weeks. He was still making progress on his Occlumency, and had, on yet another occasion, halted Voldemort's advances.
As far as Hermione was concerned, the further in time from the event Harry became, the less it bothered him. He pushed most related concerns to the back of his mind successfully, and despite the fact that he felt oddly emotional around her, nothing truly symptomatic of a crush occurred again.
Somehow, the assignments had been finished, he had become well acquainted yet again with his Firebolt, and there seemed very few worries in his life aside from packing.
Only one little phrase bothered him. Sometimes it made it difficult to sleep. The words taunted his mind at strange times, and at others he would feel ill. He was sure he would be sent to speak to Dumbledore on the matter upon his return, but Harry was just as determined to not seem panicked. He refused to owl his Headmaster, particularly one whom he was rather cross with, about some foolish number of words that might have been part of a dream.
~If he loses his means to cross the defenses, then he cannot survive, cannot kill.~
Rather upset for thinking about it, Harry stuffed the spiders into the two piles of eggs and sat down huffily next to Ron and Hermione. He buttered a muffin vehemently and stuffed it into his mouth, waiting irritably for the twins to tuck in.
It began with Ron screaming and ended with Mrs. Weasley extinguishing two molten piles of goo with her wand. Little black spots clung to the ceiling everywhere, and Hermione had some rubber spider in her hair. Ron was reduced to a sobbing state of terror, and refused to touch his eggs throughout breakfast.
All in all it had gone rather well, Harry admitted, as he scratched one red rubber eyeball from his fingernail. The four of them received a rather severe dressing-down for using explosives at the dinner table, Harry for providing the spiders, and Fred and George for making them combustible. Ron just looked rather pale.
Most of the family went back upstairs for packing, but Harry held back for his lessons, considerably less worried for his recently revealed skills in intensive luggaging. Hermione, too, loomed beside Lupin, yet again well prepared and having packed days ago. She toted a few of her mysterious packages beneath her arms and looked about with the appearance of someone hoping they are not noticed.
Harry slipped outside for his Occlumency, and Hermione moved somewhere into the back of the house.
Moodey was pleased today, either because he was losing his charge, or because he didn't have to worry about losing him. He laughed several times when Harry blocked his attempts easily, and grinned toothily when Harry had a particularly disturbing look at a memory involving a salad fork and a member of the Dark Mark who wouldn't talk, all of which resulted on a dust landing in the garden. He sat up, smiling at his teacher.
"Looking forward to being rid of me, sir?" Harry grinned beneath his bangs, brushing back his hair. "I'll bet you'll be glad to get back to your buisness."
Moodey looked at him as if he were quite stupid and laughed again. Harry, not to be outdone, simply returned the laugh and shook the dust from his hair.
"What do you mean, being rid of you? I haven't even begun to teach you!"
Harry paused. "But you're leaving..."
"Oh, I thought Granger showed you that clipping of hers... I thought you knew."
Harry paused, not really understanding what he was saying at all. He stood there, scratching his head like a chimpanzee. Apparently his teacher felt sorry for him, and spoke up soon after.
"I'm the new Dark Art's teacher, Harry!"
Before this really processed, his head fell a bit to the side and he stared for a moment. Moodey took a sip from his flask and waited patiently.
"... well?..."
"Oh..." Harry looked blankly, then smiled, and began to laugh. "Malfoy is going to piss himself red when he sees you!" He continued to chuckle heartily, and had his mind rooted for it.
He woke up with a splitting headache and Moodey looking rather grave.
"Be careful, Harry, you have to be far more vigilant than that." He tone had the ashen quality of a burnt house. Harry rose, angered, and kicked the soil heavily.
"Damn!" He spat viciously.
"You know you are most vulnerable when you are feeling high emotion, same as he has been previously. You must use care, in any case, when you feel intensely about something."
He glared. "I can handle it."
"Good lord, as a prepubescent boy you should only be worried about, oh, every moment of your life..." Moodey muttered under his breath.
Harry's face turned red. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
Moodey turned around, and before he knew it, Harry was on the ground again. He stood up, yelling irritably, and this time a heavy front fell over him, even if he couldn't see it. Moodey smiled inwardly.
Harry was halfway off of his feet when he caught himself and sent Moodey through a wall. Laughing, the Auror told him he was the fourteenth person to have broken his left arm. Harry had a horrid vision of something vaguely involving seven disembowled Azkaban prisoners, and politely lost his lunch in a nearbye bush.
They two of them stumbled inside to sit before an extremely unhappy Molly Weasley, tapping her wand against her palm, lips pursed tight.
"Look at it this way, Harry, that look is reserved for family members!" Moodey whispered into his ear.
Harry didn't know if he felt lucky, because he was too occupied stifling the urge to run.
He manages a horrid smile, showing the gap where he had lost a tooth in one of their scuffles. Her frown deepened, and he sunk silently deeper into his chair, bracing himself.
~~~~~
Despite the fact that the regrowth of his tooth could have been made less painful, Harry found himself having a comparatively good evening. He was relieved to learn later the reason that none of the children had received a letter of appointment for student office was because of a specific request made by both Ron, and curiously enough Hermione, against the offer. Only Ginny was awarded to place of Prefect, and was giggling accordingly when she finally broke the news over dinner the final evening.
Yawning, Harry leaned back in his seat an relaxed. The quiet banter around him bubbled on, and closing his eyes, he dozed off.
~~~~~
A/N: Yay?