Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this chapter, or in the Harry Potter series.. All of the characters are property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, her managers, publishers, etc. I do not claim any credit for this wonderful series of books, nor do I make any profit out of this fiction that I write. It is all for personal enjoyment.
Chapter 7: Professor ShacklebotHarry could not believe what had just taken place. He had just met Malfoy's new best friend, Larine Avolare, and she seemed almost pleasant. Harry couldn't imagine a friend of Malfoy's could come off so nicely – Malfoy's friends were usually very mean or very dumb and very mean. But by the way Larine had looked at him, she didn't seem to be either of those….
Harry shook his head widely to get these new thoughts off of his mind. He couldn't start to think of someone who associated with Malfoy as being good. Knowing Malfoy, he had sent her up to the boys dormitories to seduce him…Harry shook his head again, realizing that no matter how hard he shook, Larine Avolare wasn't going to leave his mind easily. But what was it about her that interested him?
Harry jumped as he heard feet running up the stone stairs that lead to the room. He turned toward the stairwell opening and was surprised to see Terry Boot appear. "Oh, Potter," Terry said, noticing Harry, "Are you the only one up here?"
"Uh, yeah," Harry said, wondering if Terry had come looking for someone else who was up here before…A pang flew through Harry's body as he thought of Terry climbing the stairs looking to find Larine in the room. Is that why she had been up here: To meet someone?
"Good," Terry said, tearing Harry from his thoughts, "everyone is down in the Common Room. Snape wants to address all of us." Terry turned from Harry and began back down the steps.
"Oh," Harry said aloud to no one, "Of course that's why he was coming up here. To tell me about a meeting…" Harry felt a moment of – relief? – when Terry explained why he had come to the dormitories. At least he wasn't here to meet Larine, Harry thought. But then he remembered that he had to go and listen to Snape, who was head of the old Slytherin house, speak and Harry suddenly wasn't sure if he should feel so relieved.
Taking one last quick glance around the room, Harry walked to the center of the room, then down the stairs. He passed by the House-elf head wall, and finally reached the Common Room which was filled to the brim with students. Harry's gaze swept over the crowd then landed in the center of the room, where a tall, greasy-looking man, now stood. His eyes jerked towards Harry as if he had immediately sensed his presence and the frown on his face deepened. Wow, he can get uglier?
Professor Snape took a deep breath then opened his mouth and began speaking, his voice just as oily as his hair "I, as most of you know, am Professor Snape. I am the Head of Slytherin House, but now I suppose," he looked at a small group of students Harry recognized as Hufflepuffs, "I am Head of this bunch of filth."
Harry shook his head slowly. He could not believe that he had been sorted into the House that Snape was heading. He truly had the worst luck.
Snape, after pausing to look at a whimpering first year, began to speak again. "I did not support this change when I was told it might take place, nor do I now. I have only one thing to say to you all is that I will not be favoring any of you. You will not be getting any special treatment from me, as you might have gotten from your other Heads of Houses. I will do you no kindness just because you happen to sleep in my House. There will, however," he looked toward the corner of the room where Millicent Bullstrode and Graham Pritchard, as well as, Harry noticed, Larine Avolare (who was sandwiched comfortably between the two Slytherins), sat, "be rewards for those students who perform exceptionally." Snape stopped talking and started to push his way through the crowd towards the door to leave. A silent hush was on the room as he left. Once he was out, groups began talking again, whisperings of what Snape said began to travel around the room.
Harry looked toward the corner where Larine Avolare was sitting and saw her chatting comfortably with a few former Slytherins. I thought you were in Ravenclaw, he accused her silently. He saw her eyes turn towards him, but didn't meet them. Instead, he turned on the ball of his foot, and walked past the House-elf heads to the stairwell that lead to his new, most probably uncomfortable, bed.
The next morning Harry awoke with a throbbing pain on his left foot. He had gone to bed earlier than he normally would have last night, but he had wanted so badly to escape from the torture he had been subjected to that day. While sitting up silently in his bed, Harry felt the cold of the looming Slytherin room wash over him. He could not believe where he was.
His pained foot brought him back to the present and he stuck his hands under the heavy blankets of his new bed to try to massage the pain away. Harry was greatly surprised however as he touched his fingers to his ankle to find that these feet did not feel like his at all! What Harry felt under the blankets was bumpy, rough and slimy all at the same time – and Harry knew his feet, while maybe a little calloused, did not usually emit blobs of pus as these things attached to his legs seemed to be doing.
Harry's eyes widened in shock and horror while his stomach growled in disgust. He quickly snatched his hands out from under the blankets, grabbed a corner of his covers, and threw them to the side. A gasp mingled with the awful sound of repulsion escaped from his mouth as he looked down on his sheets. Attached to his left leg was indeed his foot, but it was covered in green and orange bumps that had a foul smelling ooze sliding down the sides of the ball of his foot.
His left foot had been hexed while he had slept in the night!
Harry whipped his head around the room in hopes of finding the culprit. Nobody was there. Anger was boiling rapidly, and a strong rage started to fill Harry's brain. Who had done this?! Harry hadn't upset anybody! He did not understand why someone would attack him so unprovoked!
Harry clenched his teeth and slowly climbed out of bed. His right foot was fine, but his left was still oozing, and upon touching the floor started ejecting more gross slime. As he moved his weight on to the foot to begin walking toward his chest to change into clothes, it started discharging even more. Harry's knuckles were white with strain. He was sure somehow Malfoy was behind this. No one but an evil Slytherin like that git would pull something so low.
Harry undressed then threw on some slacks and a shirt and stuffed his feet into the largest pair of shoes he owned. The bubbling foot was so large that he winced as he tied the laces of his shoes. Harry had his mind set on one thing: to discover who did this to him. And he certainly wasn't going to let that person get any pleasure out of watching Harry suffer. No, Harry decided, he would not let his anger or anguish show. To do so would only please the lowlife scum who had hexed his left foot…
So, with head held high and a slight limp on his left foot, Harry headed down the stairs and out of the empty Slytherin Common Room towards The Great Hall. He didn't wince once – he would not let anyone see the pain he was feeling – but with every step he took, he felt his left foot squish with the sounds of oozing bumps.
As Harry walked into The Great Hall the first change that he noticed was that there was none at all. Well, at least not in a certain sense. He knew Dumbledore had hoped to unite the student body by changing them around so suddenly, but Harry doubted that Dumbledore was stupid enough to think he would actually succeed. As Harry gazed around the hall he didn't see change, he saw memories. Everything was as it had always been: four tables lining the room, and the students of each house sitting where they all should be. The old Hufflepuffs were sitting at their old table, the Ravenclaws at their own table, and the Slytherins were right where they had always been. For a moment Harry wasn't sure whether everything that had happened yesterday was all a dream – a nightmare. Unfortunately, Harry knew that he was not so lucky.
Spotting the old Gryffindors sitting at their table, Harry limped their way. He raised a hand in greeting when he saw Hermione and Ron talking quietly near the head of the table. "Good morning," he said cheerfully momentarily forgetting that this morning had not been good so far. "I see that everything's as it should be this morning."
Hermione smiled and nodded to Harry. "Well, I'm not sure the teachers would agree with you on that one, Harry. We aren't supposed to be sitting here, you know."
"No Greally," Ron said in mock surprise with his mouth full of toast. He quickly swallowed and then said clearly, "So, you're talking to us today then, Harry? The Slytherins haven't possessed you yet?"
"Possessed? No," Harry said sitting down on the bench. "But it seems they thought it would be funny to hex me last night while I slept."
"You slept?!" Ron said, completely missing Harry's point. "I didn't go to sleep for ages! The Hufflepuff room had a wild party last night. It was so great --"
"Ron, that's not what I meant," Harry said.
Hermione sat up a little straighter and said, "You were hexed Harry? What happened?"
Not wanting to draw an unnecessary attention to this incident, Harry leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice, "I woke up this morning and my left foot was covered in these gross, slimy bumps. They were spitting out this liquid and my foot in turning orange. It's seriously disgusting."
"Whoa!" Harry heard a voice say from behind him. Slowly turning around to see who had overheard what he had just told his closest friends, Harry saw young Colin Creevey. "Whoa," he repeated, "Your foot's been hexed? Man that's rotten luck."
"Colin," Ron said crossly, "What are you doing listening to our private conversation? Our, private conversation?"
"Well, I was just walking by and overheard Harry talking about his gross warty foot-"
"Its not warty!" Harry corrected, "It's been hexed!"
"Alright then, I was just passing by when I heard Harry talking about his hexed warty foot. I thought that was pretty interesting considering the same thing happened to me just last month."
"It did?" Harry asked.
"Well, the same thing happened to me on my arm. My mum accidentally hexed it when she was aiming for her sister. She doesn't get along well with my aunt, you see. Anyways, she hit me with her hex and I got these gross warts – er, bumps – all over right arm. And a gross ooze was dripping all over her new carpet and so she started screaming for me to get off of it before the hex that she had placed on me ruined it. That never made sense to me: she hexes me, her own innocent son, and then starts screaming for me to stop dripping on the rug."
"Crazy." Ron said sarcastically.
"How did your mother remove the hex?" Hermione asked. Harry felt a strong pang fly through his foot. It was getting harder for him to hide his pain.
"Oh, well that's easy, really. You just tap a wand on the affected area and say Emoret."
"That's all?" Harry asked hopefully. He pulled out his wand and lifted his foot to an empty space of bench next to him. Slowly unlacing his left shoe, he turned his head away as a draft of the smell of the slime reached his nose.
"Ah yes," Colin said, "That smell brings back some memories."
Harry stuck his wand into his shoe, tapped it against his hexed foot, and said the spell. Immediately he felt a sense of ease rush through his entire body as his foot shrank back to normal size and the bumps disappeared.
"You'll have to clean that shoe out of course. The ooze doesn't disappear, it stays in there until you wash it."
Washing his shoe was the last thing on Harry's mind. He felt honest gratitude towards Colin for solving his problem and said so.
"Oh, don't mention it, Harry," Colin replied. "I help when I can." He then turned and walked away.
"Wow," Ron commented, "I don't mean to be rude Harry, and I withheld comment a few seconds ago because I didn't want to offend you, but that smell was the worst thing my nose has ever inhaled."
Harry concluded that Ron had never smelled his Aunt Petunia's cooking. He smiled and nodded, while grabbing some food from the table and placing it on his plate. "You're pretty lucky, then," he said.
"I suppose so," Ron replied. He picked up his glass, which was filled with a thick red liquid and tipped his head back so it could flow down his throat. Harry watched as Ron put the glass down and wiped the remnants of the drink on his sleeve. He knew Mrs. Weasley would be furious. "What?" Ron asked him, noticing Harry's stare.
"Nothing." Harry said shaking his head. Ron would always be Ron.
"Hey, so really Harry," Ron started, "how was your night with the Slytherins."
"They aren't all Slytherins, Ron," Hermione interjected. "Only a few are Slytherins. The rest are all sleeping in the Slytherin dorms now, but that doesn't make them Slytherins."
"Oh, of course not," Ron said. "Please forgive me if I mislead you, Harry. That was not my intention." Ron smiled foolishly.
Harry noticed that Ron was enjoying this. "No need to apologize," he said. "I realize that some people are just too stupid to realize what they're saying sometim- HEY!" Harry's sentence was interrupted when Ron threw a large wad of orange peelings at him. The peels hit his square on the chin. "That was uncalled for!" He said trying to suppress a laugh.
"Oh, come on, Harry. Really, just tell me what happened last night! We're dying to know!"
"We're?" Hermione asked raising an eyebrow.
"Yes. You and I. We're both dying to know."
"I'm hardly dying to kn-"
"Oh, shut up Hermione. Harry, what happened?"
Harry paused a moment. What should he tell them? Normally, he would have told them every detail: from his first moments of arrival to the last thing he thought of before he dozed off to sleep. But right now, Harry wasn't sure if they needed to know all of that stuff – or if he wanted to tell them at all. There were a few things (namely, a girl named Larine) that he didn't want them to know about. But, these were his best friends! They deserved to know everything, didn't they?
"Oh, well, nothing really happened. I went to the Slytherin room and everyone was talking. We got a talk from Snape and I went to bed. Nothing of interest." Harry felt his stomach twitch from his words. He didn't like lying to Ron and Hermione.
"A talk from Snape?" Hermione asked.
"Hmm? Oh yes," Harry said. "He just told us that he wasn't going to favor any of us and that he hated all of us who weren't Slytherins in the first place. Then he left."
"It must've been awful." Ron said with a look on horror on his face.
"Not really," Harry said. He was feeling rather distracted right now. He didn't like lying.
"Is that all that happened, Harry?" Hermione asked. She looked at Harry carefully. Leave it to Hermione to see through Harry's charade.
"Yeah, Hermione." Harry said, hoping to sound firm and final. He was afraid that his words came out weak and worried, however, and was just about to speak again when someone from a nearby table shouted, "LOOK!"
Suddenly, heads all around Harry started looking towards the ceiling of The Great Hall. Harry lifted his own head towards the roof, dreading to see what was causing so much attention, and was surprised to see hundreds of small white papers pouring down from above.
"Ah, those must be the schedules," Hermione said satisfied. "I was wondering how they were going to distribute them this year." Harry shot Hermione a strained look. "Well, didn't you two wonder too?"
"No, Hermione," Ron said. The papers floated slowly down to the tables. One by one students put their hands in the air and a single sheet of paper flew into their grasp. Harry lifted his hand up and a nearby parchment darted around other floating papers and glided into Harry's hand. He slowly lowered his arm, and looked at the paper. "Oohs and Aahs" filled the hall as each student grabbed their schedule.
Harry looked over his schedule for the next year: Four NEWT classes. Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. Harry closed his eyes tightly at the thought of another Potions class. The last thing he wanted was a class with Snape much less a hard class with Snape. He was very sure that this year would be filled with stress that he wasn't sure he could handle.
"What'd you get?" Ron asked Harry loudly. He waved his small paper in the air towards Harry excitedly. "I'm in three NEWT classes: Transfiguration, and Care of Magical Creatures. I told Professor Flitwick yesterday that I didn't want to be in the Charms NEWT class even thought I passed the exams, you kno-"
"YOU DID WHAT?" Hermione exclaimed. "You turned down the chance to be in a NEWT class? Why, Ron? Did you tell your mother?" Ron's face suddenly went white. "You didn't tell her? Well, maybe I will then-"
"No, Hermione. I told my dad. He said it was okay. Really. I just wanted to concentrate more on History of Magic. That's my other NEWT class."
"What?" Hermione asked stupidly. Harry was just as shocked as she was. Ron got an OWL in History of Magic? That seemed impossible.
Ron looked towards his shoes and a slight blush crept to his cheeks. "Yeah, I did pretty well in History of Magic, I guess. My mum was really proud."
Harry was the first to recover from the shock. "Wow, Ron. That's wonderful. I just got an A in History of Magic."
Hermione, still wide eyed, nodded. She couldn't seem to say anything.
Ron mumbled a small "thanks," and then hurried to change the subject. "So, Harry, what are your classes?"
Harry looked down at his small paper again, "I'm in NEWT Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Potions. Uh, then I've got…nothing." He looked over his schedule again. Nothing? How could he have nothing?
"Nothing?" Ron said, his words echoing Harry's thoughts. "What do you mean?"
"Uh…" Harry said. He was only scheduled for four classes! "That's not normal is it?"
"Not at all," Hermione said, holding her hand out towards Harry. "Let me see your schedule." Harry handed her the slip of paper. This was odd indeed. He was sure he wasn't reading the schedule wrong, so why was he only scheduled for four classes? With a wisp of excitement, Harry realized that only having those classes left his time almost half empty. Quickly, Harry imagined flying on his broom while all other students were inside learning.
"Harry!" Ron said, he was leaning over Hermione's shoulder, reading Harry's schedule. "You really only have those five classes on there! Man, that's lucky!"
Harry smiled and looked at Hermione. Surely, she would say something like 'Well, you're going to have to tell Dumbledore,' and spoil his fun. Instead, she just lifted her head from looking at the paper and handed it back to Harry. "What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked. "What is wrong with it?"
"I think it's pretty obvious what's wrong with it," she said. "You only have five classes. But I'm not going to say anything. I won't spoil your fun, although it would be the right thing to do." She got up from the table and walked away. "I'll see you Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry. We have it in thirty minutes," she said over her shoulder. He watched her walk off, then turned to Ron who was looking at him excitedly.
"We've destroyed her, Harry!" He said with a smile.
"No, I think it was you who destroyed her," Harry said jokingly. He didn't fail to notice, however, how, for the second time that morning, Ron looked toward the floor and blushed.
Harry ran down the hall that led to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. He was late getting to class, which was no fault of his. It wasn't his fault that someone thought it would be funny to hide all of his robes! It wasn't his fault that someone had rigged the showers to only spray a chunky liquid! Harry had run around his dormitory for nearly 15 minutes trying to find his wand to get the gross globs out of his hair. Once finally manage to find his robes wadded up in one of his shoes, he threw it on and had run to class.
Harry turned down one hall after another on his way to class. HE was just about to throw open the Defense Against the Dark Arts room when he was stopped by a familiar voice.
"Harry." It was Hermione. She was standing against a far wall, with her arms crossed against her chest. "Where have you been?"
"Hermione! Why aren't you in class?" Harry asked a little rushed. It wasn't like Hermione to be out of class.
"I was. However, when you never showed up, Professor Shacklebot sent me up here to find you. He was right to assume that you were just late. Late and irresponsible. I was very worried about what-"
"Wait!" Harry stopped Hermione's rambling suddenly. "What'd you say?"
Hermione smiled and nodded. "Professor Shacklebot," she said. "Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
Harry was shocked. "Professor Shacklebot?" He repeated. He couldn't believe it! Kingsley Shacklebot was a secret member of the Order of the Phoenix. He was also an Auror, the very thing that Harry aspired to be. Harry remembered that Shacklebot had been in charge of finding Sirius, who had been falsely accused of murder. It occurred to Harry that with Sirius gone, Shacklebot had probably been moved to another case. Why, then, was he now teaching at Hogwarts?
"Yep, Shacklebot. I just found out as well. It was quite the surprise. We're meeting outside for the first lesson today, Harry," Hermione said pointing him back down towards the hall he had just come from. Harry followed her as she navigated her way down the corridors. "He seems very much at home. He has that special teacher-type quality, you know?"
He didn't. "Um…yeah."
"I am quite excited to get started. After last year's awful mess with this class, it should be a great improvement. Maybe he'll even be able to challenge Lupin as "Best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Hermione said glancing sideways at Harry with a smile at the corners of her mouth.
"Maybe," Harry mumbled back.
"There he is," Hermione said, shielding her eyes from the bright sun as she and Harry stepped out from the castle into the bright daylight.
Harry looked over the large grounds and quickly spotted what must be his Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He and Hermione quickly walked towards the large group of people and he immediately spotted his newest professor in the crowd.
Professor Shacklebot was a tall black man with a closely shaven head. He smiled down at Harry and Hermione. "I see you've found our lost classmate," he said in his deep voice.
"Sorry about being late, Professor," Harry said to Shacklebot. A wave of happiness rolled over him and he felt for the first time that this might be a good year.
"I can let it pass this first time, Mr. Potter," the tall man said with a wink. He ushered Harry and Hermione to join the rest of the class, which was filled by the smartest students in Harry's year. They all welcomed Harry, undoubtedly remembering how good he was at this subject. Harry felt very much at home.
Professor Shacklebot cleared his throat and looked over the students who filed around him. "Good morning students, I am Professor Shackle your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I've told that I am just the latest in a long line of teachers for this subject - some good," Harry remembered Lupin, "and some, well to be blunt, bad." Many of the students grouped together laughed a little, Harry knew they were undoubtedly remembering every other Defense Against the Dark they had ever had. "This is the NEWT level course, which will prove to be a little more challenging, as well as, I hope, a little more fun."
"Anything would have to be more fun than last year," a (former) Ravenclaw said dryly, earning many nods and smiles.
Professor Shacklebot nodded his head as well. "Ah, but don't expect this class to be all fun and games. Learning to protect yourself against dark magics isn't all within the swish of your wand – it goes much deeper than that. Very often," the Professor continued, "students enter this advanced level of the Defense courses, and can't learn a thing. There is a talent that is necessary to fully shield one's self against the dark arts that only few are born with – it simply can't be taught."
Harry noticed that there were many nervous faces within the crowd of students now. He wasn't as nervous as he thought he should be, however. Shacklebot awakened an urge to prove himself, more than it did an urge to run. He looked back toward his new professor who was smiling down at his new students.
"But let's not worry about that today," he said, "right now I have a challenge for you all. Within the Quidditch Field," he lifted a finger towards the vast field of green grass framed by stands and vertical poles, "I have placed 13 dingits." Professor Shacklebot slowly shook his head as numerous hands flew into the air, to signal that he wasn't going to answer questions. "No, no, I'm not explaining. I know that some of you know what dingits are, and I trust that you will help your fellow classmates, who seem to be in the dark, discover it themselves. Now, each of you, along with a partner of your choosing, will need to find and map all 13 dingits without…incurring their wrath. You may use a single piece of parchment and your wand. That is all. You have the rest of class to complete this trial. Begin." Professor Shacklebot finished his short instructions and clapped his hands together releasing his students from their silence.
Immediately, students turned toward each other, finding partners, and ran off towards the Quidditch Field. Harry looked at Hermione, "Partner?"
"Absolutely," she said, grabbed his elbow, and pushed him toward the large green field. "It's my guess that you have absolutely no idea what a dingit is," she said.
"Well….no. But it's my luck, I assume, that you know exactly what it is," Harry said shortly. He wasn't Hermione's friend just because she was smart, but that certainly was a plus.
"Of course I do," Hermione replied. "Dingits are small ball-shaped figures that are placed in the ground. They act as a sort-of defense advice. When a person who doesn't know to lookout for them steps on one they are immediately sprayed by a temporary-sicking poison."
"What?!" Harry asked. "We might get sprayed with a temporary poison?"
"Well, that's how the real dingits work. I would guess that Professor Shacklebot would fill the dingits with something a little more…acceptable. Now, to find the dingits you have to concentrate incredibly hard on this spell." Hermione, still walking briskly toward the field, pulled her wand out of her robes and swished it lightly. "Dingit," she said.
"Wow, that was original," Harry said dryly. This didn't sound too hard.
"The spell isn't the hard part. It's the supreme concentration required that gets most wizards. It's very difficult – I'm looking forward to it."
As it turned out, Hermione couldn't have been more right. Upon reaching the Quidditch field and saying the enchantment, Harry felt and saw nothing different.
"What's supposed to happen Hermione?" He asked.
"My understanding is that if our spell works correctly a shining light will hover over the hidden dingit. After we see a light we should probably mark it on a paper so we can remember to avoid that spot while looking for the rest of the dingits. Thirteen dingits he said he hid? Of course, we have to find one first."
"Right," Harry said. He looked around the large field and saw everyone else looked just as confused as he did. Many people were gathered into large groups stepping very lightly over the green grass, trying to avoid any undiscovered dingits.
"Concentrate," Hermione reminded him.
"Right," Harry repeated. "Dingit," he said, focusing all of his energy on finding the dingits. Immediately a faint light illuminated about five yards in front of Harry. He jumped back suddenly, surprised. "I've got one!"
"You have? Well, where is it?" Hermione asked frantically.
"It's right there!" Harry screamed pointing in front of him. "Right there!"
"Where Harry? Oh, dear, will you stop pointing at nothing? Just mark it on this map," she held out the piece of paper she had hidden in her robe. On it was a small, quickly drawn sketch of the Quidditch Field. Harry placed a small star in what he guessed was around the general area where he saw the light. He handed the paper back to Hermione.
"That close? Do you see anymore, Harry?"
"No. Why can't I see them all?" He asked.
"I guess there aren't anymore around here, let's wander a little over this way," Hermione pulled Harry to the left, carefully avoiding the place Harry had marked on the map.
It took Harry and Hermione nearly thirty minutes to fine 9 more dingits. They had to constantly keep moving around the large green field until one of them spotted another illuminated hovering light. They had managed to successfully avoid stepping on a dingit and making it explode, but there had been a few close calls.
Elisa Perkins, a fellow sixth year, hadn't been so lucky. About twenty minutes into the search she accidentally stepped on a hidden piece and a thick liquid had squirt all over her. Professor Shacklebot had calmly walked over and escorted her off the field. Harry heard him whisper quietly as he and Elise walked past, "It's okay, the stinging will stop soon." Harry had gotten the shivers then.
"Two more," Hermione said to herself. Harry was snatched back to the present, and nodded calmly toward Hermione. Harry always enjoyed watching her when she felt she was being faced with a challenge. Hermione liked to win games of the mind, and games that tested her skill.
"Have we looked over there?" He asked nodding to his left.
"Yes, we just looked there Harry! Pay attention!" Hermione said back, her stress momentarily over boiling.
Harry laughed, which, apparent by the look on her face, didn't please Hermione much. "Oh, calm down," he said. Then he lifted his wand and pointed it straight in front of him, where he was sure they hadn't checked before. "Dingit!" Two lights illuminated right in front of Harry. The two remaining hidden dingits were so close to Harry, and to each other, that if he or Hermione had taken one step forward they would be the ones escorted off of the field with stinging skin. "Hey, Hermione -," Harry began but was interrupted by a fowl voice from behind him.
"Potter," came Draco's sneering call, "I see you and your girlfriend haven't been able to find all 12 yet. Are you slacking off? You're usually done before anyone else has even begun." Draco slowly walked from behind Harry to in front him, just behind the dingits. The dingits were sandwiched between Harry and Draco. Then, when Harry saw who was walking right beside Draco, his stomach flipped.
Larine.
"Ah," Draco said looking at Harry's surprised expression, "I have been so rude. Larine," he said turning to the girl, "this is-"
"Harry Potter," Larine finished. Her dark eyes were shining, and an evil smirk was drawn across her face. "We've had the pleasure of meeting."
"Have you?" Draco asked. "I can't imagine it was a pleasure. How disappointed were you in our Mr. Potter?"
Larine inhaled and then sighed, "I had always imagined him to be…well, a little less scrawny for one thing."
"And who are you?" Hermione asked breaking in. Harry felt numb. He watched as Draco begun to move toward Hermione, about to step on one of the hidden dingits.
One more step, Harry thought satisfyingly. But right before Draco would have made his last move, a hand whipped out and pulled him backwards, saving Draco. Harry looked toward the owner of the hand, and discovered it to be Larine Avolare. Her eyes were wide, and pointed towards the ground, exactly where the hidden dingit was. Harry saw Draco look at Larine questioningly. Does she know the dingits are there?
Recovering quickly, Draco looked toward Hermione and answered her question calmly, "This is Larine Avolare."
"Larine Avolare?" Hermione said questioningly. "Are you new?"
"Well, obviously," Draco said, answering for Larine.
An evil smile once again highlighted Larine's face. "This is my first year at Hogwarts, yes," she answered coldly. Harry shivered – Larine hadn't been this mean last night when he had met her. It was almost as if there were two different Larines.
Hermione, however, was not daunted. "Well where have you been for the last five?"
"That is none of your business," Draco said smiling as if he knew something of great importance that Harry and Hermione didn't. He began to walk closer and said, "But if you hear the rumors--. HOLY OWLS!" Draco screamed as he walked straight onto a hidden dingit and a green liquid sprayed all over him. Hermione and Harry jumped back, surprise hitting them first, and then an extreme urge to laugh. "A DINGIT!" Draco yelled. "LARINE! OW, IT HURTS!" Draco began jumping up and down, while turning around in circles. Harry was fighting the urge to laugh, but it was about to get the best of him. Larine had run to Draco was trying to help him.
"If you just calm down for a second, I can see what this is, and maybe I can remove it," she was saying calmly, looking very distressed.
"Larine! Larine! Get away from him," Harry looked over and saw Professor Shacklebot running toward the twitching Malfoy. "Step away, please," he said slowing to a halt upon reaching the group. "Mr. Malfoy, I'll need you to come with me. The nurse can remove this mess." Malfoy begrudgingly began to walk back towards the castle with Shacklebot, holding his head high, trying to preserve some dignity. "No, no, Larine you'll need to stay here and try to finish the assignment," Professor Shacklebot said when Larine began to walk away with Malfoy.
"But Draco was my partner, Professor" she said.
"I know, Larine, but I can only take the students who have the salgoo on them to the nurse. You'll need to stay down here and wait for Mr. Malfoy. He'll be fine."
"Professor-," Larine began but was interrupted by the Professor.
"No, Larine. You don't have salgoo on you, so you can not come." Harry thought that it would be best for Larine to stop arguing with Professor Shacklebot, it was obvious that he was beginning to get annoyed.
Slowly Larine tightened her jaw, and turned around, walking straight toward Harry. From all of their various places on the field, the class was watching Larine now. She continued to walk toward Harry until she stopped right in front of him, her dark gaze stopping Harry's breath. She lifted her right foot and brought it straight down, stomping on the small patch of grass that separated her body from Harry's. Immediately the same green liquid that covered Malfoy jumped out of the ground and landed all over Larine's body.
Harry had completely forgotten about the second dingit that he had found. But Larine hadn't. And Harry was completely sure that indeed, she had known that it had existed the whole time, and that it was not a simple coincidence that she had saved Malfoy from stepping on a dingit the first time.
Larine smiled at Harry, then turned and walked back to Professor Shacklebot and Malfoy (who was still twitching). She didn't give it away, but Harry was sure that every part of her body was now screaming in pain. Just like his was.
"Professor, it looks like I'm going to need to see the nurse now," was all Larine said.
Professor Shacklebot looked very surprised at what his new student had just done, but then his eyes changed and (much to Harry's surprise) softened. He nodded and led the two students away.
Once they were gone, the whole class let out a single, collective breath.
Hermione was the first to speak. "Well, we've found all of the dingits.