Life Threatening.
Zane hadn't told anybody about the thinking map, or about the names he saw on it. His life was still confusing. Luckily he hadn't made Shelly angry anymore. He tried to live a normal Hogwart's life, but it was difficult because people kept trying to set him off. Every Slytherin student dried to knock him down, piss him off, or hit him when a professor wasn't looking. If he needed help Gryffindor students ignored him, Hufflepuffs (though helpful) couldn't help, and Ravenclaws were usually too busy.
It was getting towards the end of the school year when things started to get scary. There were two months left in the school year. It was a muggy, rainy morning. His alarm went off as usual, and Zane reached over to shut it off, when he suddenly could not remove his hand. Then he felt a strange tug behind his navel. Before he knew what was happening he was free falling in midair.
He screamed as he saw himself headed for the hard ground below. He expected to die from the fall, only to have something ram into him. He looked to find it was actually a someone. It was a man with salt and pepper hair, and an unhappy look on his face. He landed beside the small cabin near the forbidden forest.
The man rounded on Zane, "What did you think you were doing?"
Zane backed away in fear as he held his hands up, "I swear sir, I don't know how I got up there."
"What do you mean? You have to know. Were you trying some levitations spell on yourself?"
"No sir. I just shut off my alarm this morning and there I was." Zane was panicked. Would he be kicked out of the school? Was this the end?
"Wait," the man's expression shifted from angry to suspicious. "Did you feel a tug behind your navel?"
"Uh," now that Zane thought about it. . . "Yes sir, I did."
"Portkey," muttered the old man.
"Sir?" inquired Zane.
"Someone turned your alarm into a portkey."
"What's that?" Zane asked, now turning angry himself.
"Its an object that transports an individual or individuals who are touching it from one place to another almost instantly."
"Sir," Zane asked. "Who are you? And how would someone do that?" why someone would do that, Zane could guess easily enough.
"I am Rigel White," gruffed the old man. "And as to how, the person would have to be at least a sixth year advanced charms student."
"Plenty of those in Slytherin house," mused Zane.
"Ah, a Gryffindor are ya?" asked Mr. White.
"No sir," said Zane as he followed the old man into his hut. The hut itself was huge, as was everything inside. Despite the fact that it was all one room, everything inside seemed to be made for someone much larger than normal. "I'm Slytherin."
"Well then why would ya think that Slytherins would try to kill ya?" he took out some parchment and a quill.
"I'm a muggle-born sir. All of Slytherin hates me."
"Pity," he said sarcastically. "Padfoot!" the old man roared. In through the back door trotted a happy, but huge, black hound. Its tongue lolled about as he sniffed Zane. It licked its chops in a way that made Zane extremely uncomfortable. "take the kid to the headmistress with this note," the old man instructed the dog. He turned to Zane and said, "Go with Snuffles, and I'll give ya nickels worth of free advice that an old friend gave me; CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" With that, Rigel White waved Zane out dismissively.
Snuffles, the enormous black dog took Zane all the way to the to Prof. McGonagall's office. Once there Prof. McGonagall called in Professors Snape and Granger. "So can you explain why Mr. White believes that one of your classmates tried to kill you?"
Zane related the whole story to them. They all nodded their heads slowly. As time was short they told Zane to come back that afternoon after classes. Then at that meeting they decided that Zane should try not to go places alone. From then on at times when Zane wasn't with the girls, Snuffles walked with him. Zane actually decided that he liked the dog. It would often snap at other Slytherins, and would attract attention from the women because he was "A cute doggie". It seemed to Zane that this was the dog's goal. It also seemed to scare a few of the pure blood Hufflepuffs. They always screamed something about a grim.
On weekends Zane would do some flying, with the permission of Mr. Wood, with Shelly and Rachel and Lo-Ith. They were all hoping to make house teams when the time came. Both Zane and Shelly were set on becoming Chasers. Rachel and Lo-Ith wanted to be seekers.
Unfortunately someone else noticed how regularly they trained. That someone was the last person they wanted watching them. It was closing on the last week. After fretting over exams, they had completed them. Rachel and Lo-Ith had scraped by with a little elbow room, Shelly had passed with flying colors, and Zane had fit himself into that average area.
They were blowing off steam that weekend, when Betelgeuse Malfoy flew up to them. "Oiy, Mudblood!"
Zane had grown to hate that term with every time that a Malfoy or one of their cronies used it. He let his cold eyes fall upon Malfoy. "What is it?"
"You fancy yourself a fair chaser?" Malfoy's tone was not as playful as it sounded. It held some hidden meaning inside. Something was definitely wrong with the way he asked that.
"Yeah, as a matter of fact I am a good chaser. Why do you care?" they began to circle each other higher and higher into the air.
"Fact is," said Malfoy smugly. "I myself am a keeper. And no matter how good you THINK you are, I can stop any quaffle you put in motion. So you have no hope of making it to the quidditch team."
Malfoy was using all the right moves to get Zane steamed. It took ever amount of self-restraint Zane had not to knock Betelgeuse from his broom. "Would you be willing to put a wager on that?"
Malfoy smiled. "The quidditch pitch is open, I say you and me. Score vs. block. No beaters, no seekers, just you and me, and the quaffle make three."
"You're on," Zane said as he zoomed to the pitch, with Malfoy hot on his heels. Lo-Ith and Shelly exchanged an exasperated look and shook their heads. It was obvious to both of them that Malfoy was up to something. Rachel just whooped and followed the boys.
On the quidditch pitch Zane was shooting goals, and Betelgeuse was stopping a good half of them. Zane was frustrated. It seemed that every other quaffle he tossed was stopped. He quickly realized one thing; Malfoy hadn't been lying when he said he was a good keeper.
After an hour of play, with looks of pure hatred shining from both, Malfoy checked his watch. His face looked almost panicked as he quickly hurled the quaffle at Zane. Zane was pleased that the game was going longer than Malfoy expected. That was the only thought he got out before he grabbed the quaffle, and once more his hand stuck, and he felt a jerk behind his navel. . . .
Zane hadn't told anybody about the thinking map, or about the names he saw on it. His life was still confusing. Luckily he hadn't made Shelly angry anymore. He tried to live a normal Hogwart's life, but it was difficult because people kept trying to set him off. Every Slytherin student dried to knock him down, piss him off, or hit him when a professor wasn't looking. If he needed help Gryffindor students ignored him, Hufflepuffs (though helpful) couldn't help, and Ravenclaws were usually too busy.
It was getting towards the end of the school year when things started to get scary. There were two months left in the school year. It was a muggy, rainy morning. His alarm went off as usual, and Zane reached over to shut it off, when he suddenly could not remove his hand. Then he felt a strange tug behind his navel. Before he knew what was happening he was free falling in midair.
He screamed as he saw himself headed for the hard ground below. He expected to die from the fall, only to have something ram into him. He looked to find it was actually a someone. It was a man with salt and pepper hair, and an unhappy look on his face. He landed beside the small cabin near the forbidden forest.
The man rounded on Zane, "What did you think you were doing?"
Zane backed away in fear as he held his hands up, "I swear sir, I don't know how I got up there."
"What do you mean? You have to know. Were you trying some levitations spell on yourself?"
"No sir. I just shut off my alarm this morning and there I was." Zane was panicked. Would he be kicked out of the school? Was this the end?
"Wait," the man's expression shifted from angry to suspicious. "Did you feel a tug behind your navel?"
"Uh," now that Zane thought about it. . . "Yes sir, I did."
"Portkey," muttered the old man.
"Sir?" inquired Zane.
"Someone turned your alarm into a portkey."
"What's that?" Zane asked, now turning angry himself.
"Its an object that transports an individual or individuals who are touching it from one place to another almost instantly."
"Sir," Zane asked. "Who are you? And how would someone do that?" why someone would do that, Zane could guess easily enough.
"I am Rigel White," gruffed the old man. "And as to how, the person would have to be at least a sixth year advanced charms student."
"Plenty of those in Slytherin house," mused Zane.
"Ah, a Gryffindor are ya?" asked Mr. White.
"No sir," said Zane as he followed the old man into his hut. The hut itself was huge, as was everything inside. Despite the fact that it was all one room, everything inside seemed to be made for someone much larger than normal. "I'm Slytherin."
"Well then why would ya think that Slytherins would try to kill ya?" he took out some parchment and a quill.
"I'm a muggle-born sir. All of Slytherin hates me."
"Pity," he said sarcastically. "Padfoot!" the old man roared. In through the back door trotted a happy, but huge, black hound. Its tongue lolled about as he sniffed Zane. It licked its chops in a way that made Zane extremely uncomfortable. "take the kid to the headmistress with this note," the old man instructed the dog. He turned to Zane and said, "Go with Snuffles, and I'll give ya nickels worth of free advice that an old friend gave me; CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" With that, Rigel White waved Zane out dismissively.
Snuffles, the enormous black dog took Zane all the way to the to Prof. McGonagall's office. Once there Prof. McGonagall called in Professors Snape and Granger. "So can you explain why Mr. White believes that one of your classmates tried to kill you?"
Zane related the whole story to them. They all nodded their heads slowly. As time was short they told Zane to come back that afternoon after classes. Then at that meeting they decided that Zane should try not to go places alone. From then on at times when Zane wasn't with the girls, Snuffles walked with him. Zane actually decided that he liked the dog. It would often snap at other Slytherins, and would attract attention from the women because he was "A cute doggie". It seemed to Zane that this was the dog's goal. It also seemed to scare a few of the pure blood Hufflepuffs. They always screamed something about a grim.
On weekends Zane would do some flying, with the permission of Mr. Wood, with Shelly and Rachel and Lo-Ith. They were all hoping to make house teams when the time came. Both Zane and Shelly were set on becoming Chasers. Rachel and Lo-Ith wanted to be seekers.
Unfortunately someone else noticed how regularly they trained. That someone was the last person they wanted watching them. It was closing on the last week. After fretting over exams, they had completed them. Rachel and Lo-Ith had scraped by with a little elbow room, Shelly had passed with flying colors, and Zane had fit himself into that average area.
They were blowing off steam that weekend, when Betelgeuse Malfoy flew up to them. "Oiy, Mudblood!"
Zane had grown to hate that term with every time that a Malfoy or one of their cronies used it. He let his cold eyes fall upon Malfoy. "What is it?"
"You fancy yourself a fair chaser?" Malfoy's tone was not as playful as it sounded. It held some hidden meaning inside. Something was definitely wrong with the way he asked that.
"Yeah, as a matter of fact I am a good chaser. Why do you care?" they began to circle each other higher and higher into the air.
"Fact is," said Malfoy smugly. "I myself am a keeper. And no matter how good you THINK you are, I can stop any quaffle you put in motion. So you have no hope of making it to the quidditch team."
Malfoy was using all the right moves to get Zane steamed. It took ever amount of self-restraint Zane had not to knock Betelgeuse from his broom. "Would you be willing to put a wager on that?"
Malfoy smiled. "The quidditch pitch is open, I say you and me. Score vs. block. No beaters, no seekers, just you and me, and the quaffle make three."
"You're on," Zane said as he zoomed to the pitch, with Malfoy hot on his heels. Lo-Ith and Shelly exchanged an exasperated look and shook their heads. It was obvious to both of them that Malfoy was up to something. Rachel just whooped and followed the boys.
On the quidditch pitch Zane was shooting goals, and Betelgeuse was stopping a good half of them. Zane was frustrated. It seemed that every other quaffle he tossed was stopped. He quickly realized one thing; Malfoy hadn't been lying when he said he was a good keeper.
After an hour of play, with looks of pure hatred shining from both, Malfoy checked his watch. His face looked almost panicked as he quickly hurled the quaffle at Zane. Zane was pleased that the game was going longer than Malfoy expected. That was the only thought he got out before he grabbed the quaffle, and once more his hand stuck, and he felt a jerk behind his navel. . . .