A.N.--- I own a notebook, a brain, a set of HP books, a pencil, my story,
and a HP craze. But other than that, J.K. Rowling owns it all. Please
don't get mad if my story is messed up. I'm just a 7th grader, after all!
"Malfoy, the dark mark, crucio, Hermione. Hermione! Where is she?" Ron demanded, his memory coming back. He was covered in a cold sweat.
"Slow down," Harry told Ron.
"I- I woke up in a cemetery, and-" Ron started.
"A cemetery? Ron, what is going on?"
"I don't know, Harry!" Ron exclaimed.
"Ron, wait here," Harry said suddenly. He ran off. Ron, however, didn't hear Harry. He was paralyzed in thought.
Harry ran straight for the prefects' portrait hole. When he got to the picture of a small sorcerer with a hat that was too big, he stopped.
"Password?" squeaked the tiny sorcerer.
"Owl post," Harry said before taking a deep breath. He stepped through the opening made when the portrait moved.
He found himself in a very colorful room. All four walls were different colors. One was crimson, one a deep green, one yellow, and one dark blue. There were also four couches that matched the walls. There were two halls. One had a green door and a blue door. Down the other hall was a red door and a yellow door. He ran up to the red door and knocked.
"Hermione! Come on! Wake up! Open the door!" he yelled frantically.
"Wha- Harry!?! It's five-thirty in the morning," Hermione said groggily.
Despite how comfortable she was in her queen-sized, four-post bed, she got up and opened her door.
"Harry, what are you doing here?" she questioned. "What's the matter?" she asked, noticing Harry's worried look.
"It's Ron!" Harry told Hermione. "He's acting funny!"
What do you mean? Funny? She would have added more, but she noted the look on Harry's face.
"I mean waking up at five-thirty in the morning, yelling nonsense- a lot of which I can't even start to understand, not to mention his bloodshot eyes." Harry trailed off.
"Bloodshot eyes?" Hermione shuddered.
"Yeah. They were almost scary. Like something had taken over his body and mind. Like he has seen pure terror."
"Harry, if this is what I think it is we need a professor. We can't take this into our own hands," Hermione said solemnly.
Harry gulped. "What do you think this is? Hysteria?"
"No, not hysteria, he's probably got spelnumia," Hermione suggested.
"Spelnumia? What is that?" he glanced at her terrified face.
"Spelnumia is a spell that. that. that only dark wizards can cast on you. It drains the color out of your skin, but as it does, it sucks the life right out of you," Hermione finally managed to say.
"It's curable, right?" Harry asked worriedly.
"Of course, but we must get Professor McGonagall- now!" Hermione replied.
They rushed out of her room and through the portrait hole. They ran down two flights of stairs to McGonagalls room.
"Professor McGonagall! Please come help!" they cried in unison.
The door opened. Out stepped a very sleepy looking McGonagall.
"What is wrong Mr. Potter, Miss Granger?" she yawned.
"It's Ron! We think he has spelnumia," Harry informed.
"Spelnumia? Say no more, we must go quickly!" McGonagall said as she swept them along to the portrait of the fat lady in the pink dress.
"Password?" she yawned.
"Acid pop," McGonagall answered.
The portrait swung open to reveal an almost petrified Ron. McGonagalls eyes widened.
Mr. Weasly, what has happened?" McGonagall asked rushing over to Ron.
Ron, who had been staring at the blazing fire thinking, jumped at the sound of another voice.
"I don't know," Ron said, but he began to launch into complete details about his dream.
"Mr. Weasly, you clearly have spelnumia. You will spend the day in the hospital wing. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey can cure you," Professor McGonagall explained after a few moments of silence.
"Hospital wing? Professor, what about the quiddich match today? We can't let Slytherin win by default!" Ron felt like screaming.
"Your sister has been practicing for the position of Keeper. She's quite good. She will fill your spot for the match," McGonagall replied.
"What?" Ron felt sick. His own sister.how could she?
"You heard me," McGonagall said. "Now go and collect what you think you will need for the day. Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, you will escort Mr. Weasly to the hospital wing."
"OK," Hermione muttered. Harry didn't say a word.
Ron felt miserable. All the classes had been canceled due to the quiddich match, but he had papers and books scattered all over the squeaky hospital bed. He was still trying to figure out the dream.
'The dark mark is only found on You Know Who's followers. It looks like a skull with a serpent snaking through the mouth. Some followers that have escaped from Azkaban are: Alex Alhine, Zelda Berlin, Bertha Bagwell.'
The list went on like this. Ron skimmed through it until the last names started with M.
'John Macwell, J. L. McHerse.'
There! Lucius Malfoy and Narcissia Malfoy- right there! But no Draco- yet, anyway.
Suddenly, a blaring, slightly muffled voice filled the room.
"Welcome to quiddich!" Ron heard Fred and George's best friend, Lee Jordan, exclaim. Ron opened the window. "Today's match is Gryffindor"- cheers erupted from all the houses except Slytherin cheered. "-Vs. Slytherin." Cheers were drowned out by boos and hisses.
"But wait! Ginny Weasly will take Ron Weasly's place as Keeper because he is sick," Lee boomed.
"Uggh," Ron cried in disgust, causing Madam Pomfrey to rush over and feel his head and give a long lecture about how others are trying to rest and how he must be respectful and quiet. It lasted half the match.
"Alicia Spinnet makes ten points for Gryffindor, which makes the score seventy to sixty. Of course, Slytherin's old Firebolts are just not enough to keep up with Gryffiondor's new Leprechaun 180's, the newest model yet, donated by the MFWC. As you may know, MFWC means Muggle Free Wizarding Corporation. They donated the Leprechauns because"- Ron didn't hear why MFWC donated the newest lightning fast broomstick because McGonagall exploded.
"JORDAN! I'M NOT PAYING YOU SIX GALLEONS AN HOUR TO ADVERTISE FOR THE MFWC!" Ron heard her shout. Jordan got right on track after that.
"Harry Potter catches the snitch! Gryffindor wins! This is Lee Jordan, signing off!" Lee screamed excitedly. Cheering filled the stands.
Ron grinned. He could almost imagine Malfoy's disgusted look, as if being beat by Ginny was bad. At that very moment, Harry and Hermione cheerfully burst into the room.
"Hullo, Ron!" Harry said merrily.
"Hi! I heard you won the quiddich match," Ron replied.
"Yeah, we"- Harry was interrupted by the door slamming open. A scrawny, silver-blonde haired boy walked in along with two giant students following him. It was Draco Malfoy.
"So, it's true. Weasly was scared competing against Slytherin, pretended to have a scary dream, and had McGonagall send him to the hospital wing. So now, Potty and Mudblood can come up and see you," Draco sneered.
Ron's face grew beet red. "No, that's not it."
"Oh, really? I challenge you to a wizard duel. On Wednesday. That gives you two days to prepare. At the Riddle House," Malfoy challenged.
"I accept," Ron answered.
"Malfoy, the dark mark, crucio, Hermione. Hermione! Where is she?" Ron demanded, his memory coming back. He was covered in a cold sweat.
"Slow down," Harry told Ron.
"I- I woke up in a cemetery, and-" Ron started.
"A cemetery? Ron, what is going on?"
"I don't know, Harry!" Ron exclaimed.
"Ron, wait here," Harry said suddenly. He ran off. Ron, however, didn't hear Harry. He was paralyzed in thought.
Harry ran straight for the prefects' portrait hole. When he got to the picture of a small sorcerer with a hat that was too big, he stopped.
"Password?" squeaked the tiny sorcerer.
"Owl post," Harry said before taking a deep breath. He stepped through the opening made when the portrait moved.
He found himself in a very colorful room. All four walls were different colors. One was crimson, one a deep green, one yellow, and one dark blue. There were also four couches that matched the walls. There were two halls. One had a green door and a blue door. Down the other hall was a red door and a yellow door. He ran up to the red door and knocked.
"Hermione! Come on! Wake up! Open the door!" he yelled frantically.
"Wha- Harry!?! It's five-thirty in the morning," Hermione said groggily.
Despite how comfortable she was in her queen-sized, four-post bed, she got up and opened her door.
"Harry, what are you doing here?" she questioned. "What's the matter?" she asked, noticing Harry's worried look.
"It's Ron!" Harry told Hermione. "He's acting funny!"
What do you mean? Funny? She would have added more, but she noted the look on Harry's face.
"I mean waking up at five-thirty in the morning, yelling nonsense- a lot of which I can't even start to understand, not to mention his bloodshot eyes." Harry trailed off.
"Bloodshot eyes?" Hermione shuddered.
"Yeah. They were almost scary. Like something had taken over his body and mind. Like he has seen pure terror."
"Harry, if this is what I think it is we need a professor. We can't take this into our own hands," Hermione said solemnly.
Harry gulped. "What do you think this is? Hysteria?"
"No, not hysteria, he's probably got spelnumia," Hermione suggested.
"Spelnumia? What is that?" he glanced at her terrified face.
"Spelnumia is a spell that. that. that only dark wizards can cast on you. It drains the color out of your skin, but as it does, it sucks the life right out of you," Hermione finally managed to say.
"It's curable, right?" Harry asked worriedly.
"Of course, but we must get Professor McGonagall- now!" Hermione replied.
They rushed out of her room and through the portrait hole. They ran down two flights of stairs to McGonagalls room.
"Professor McGonagall! Please come help!" they cried in unison.
The door opened. Out stepped a very sleepy looking McGonagall.
"What is wrong Mr. Potter, Miss Granger?" she yawned.
"It's Ron! We think he has spelnumia," Harry informed.
"Spelnumia? Say no more, we must go quickly!" McGonagall said as she swept them along to the portrait of the fat lady in the pink dress.
"Password?" she yawned.
"Acid pop," McGonagall answered.
The portrait swung open to reveal an almost petrified Ron. McGonagalls eyes widened.
Mr. Weasly, what has happened?" McGonagall asked rushing over to Ron.
Ron, who had been staring at the blazing fire thinking, jumped at the sound of another voice.
"I don't know," Ron said, but he began to launch into complete details about his dream.
"Mr. Weasly, you clearly have spelnumia. You will spend the day in the hospital wing. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey can cure you," Professor McGonagall explained after a few moments of silence.
"Hospital wing? Professor, what about the quiddich match today? We can't let Slytherin win by default!" Ron felt like screaming.
"Your sister has been practicing for the position of Keeper. She's quite good. She will fill your spot for the match," McGonagall replied.
"What?" Ron felt sick. His own sister.how could she?
"You heard me," McGonagall said. "Now go and collect what you think you will need for the day. Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, you will escort Mr. Weasly to the hospital wing."
"OK," Hermione muttered. Harry didn't say a word.
Ron felt miserable. All the classes had been canceled due to the quiddich match, but he had papers and books scattered all over the squeaky hospital bed. He was still trying to figure out the dream.
'The dark mark is only found on You Know Who's followers. It looks like a skull with a serpent snaking through the mouth. Some followers that have escaped from Azkaban are: Alex Alhine, Zelda Berlin, Bertha Bagwell.'
The list went on like this. Ron skimmed through it until the last names started with M.
'John Macwell, J. L. McHerse.'
There! Lucius Malfoy and Narcissia Malfoy- right there! But no Draco- yet, anyway.
Suddenly, a blaring, slightly muffled voice filled the room.
"Welcome to quiddich!" Ron heard Fred and George's best friend, Lee Jordan, exclaim. Ron opened the window. "Today's match is Gryffindor"- cheers erupted from all the houses except Slytherin cheered. "-Vs. Slytherin." Cheers were drowned out by boos and hisses.
"But wait! Ginny Weasly will take Ron Weasly's place as Keeper because he is sick," Lee boomed.
"Uggh," Ron cried in disgust, causing Madam Pomfrey to rush over and feel his head and give a long lecture about how others are trying to rest and how he must be respectful and quiet. It lasted half the match.
"Alicia Spinnet makes ten points for Gryffindor, which makes the score seventy to sixty. Of course, Slytherin's old Firebolts are just not enough to keep up with Gryffiondor's new Leprechaun 180's, the newest model yet, donated by the MFWC. As you may know, MFWC means Muggle Free Wizarding Corporation. They donated the Leprechauns because"- Ron didn't hear why MFWC donated the newest lightning fast broomstick because McGonagall exploded.
"JORDAN! I'M NOT PAYING YOU SIX GALLEONS AN HOUR TO ADVERTISE FOR THE MFWC!" Ron heard her shout. Jordan got right on track after that.
"Harry Potter catches the snitch! Gryffindor wins! This is Lee Jordan, signing off!" Lee screamed excitedly. Cheering filled the stands.
Ron grinned. He could almost imagine Malfoy's disgusted look, as if being beat by Ginny was bad. At that very moment, Harry and Hermione cheerfully burst into the room.
"Hullo, Ron!" Harry said merrily.
"Hi! I heard you won the quiddich match," Ron replied.
"Yeah, we"- Harry was interrupted by the door slamming open. A scrawny, silver-blonde haired boy walked in along with two giant students following him. It was Draco Malfoy.
"So, it's true. Weasly was scared competing against Slytherin, pretended to have a scary dream, and had McGonagall send him to the hospital wing. So now, Potty and Mudblood can come up and see you," Draco sneered.
Ron's face grew beet red. "No, that's not it."
"Oh, really? I challenge you to a wizard duel. On Wednesday. That gives you two days to prepare. At the Riddle House," Malfoy challenged.
"I accept," Ron answered.