Disclaimed
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The Basement
By Marz
Chapter 9 Normalcy Squared Divided by Grim
People change their minds too much. One second they want me to spend the rest of my life locked up in the hospital wing and the next they've tossed me out on my bum, with ten extra hours of make up classes a week crammed into an already bewildering schedule. I think Professor Snape had something to do with it. Madam Pomfrey told him I couldn't receive detention until I was officially attending classes.
Dumbledore arrived in the hospital this morning, gave me a long look, and asked if I thought I was a danger to the other students. I said no and he let me leave. I tried to ask him who it was Black murdered, but he brushed me off, telling me I'd be late for transfigurations if I didn't hurry.
It wasn't so bad, going from doing nothing to doing everything all at once. I didn't have much time to worry and think about Black's crazy story and the missing Scabbers. The first day of classes was so hectic I nearly forgot I had been kidnapped.
I didn't understand transfiguration class at all, but Ron assured me that that was perfectly normal. McGonagall held me after class for a few minutes, to remind me I had a two hour tutoring session with her after dinner. Charms wasn't so bad, but I was the last person to understand the unknotting charm. The charm was not that hard, (ha ha) but I was distracted. My attention was constantly drawn to the windows and doors. I had this strange feeling that if I didn't keep an eye on them they would disappear. Things were going pretty well though, until my lunch break, when I was surrounded by Oliver Wood.
I know what you're thinking. How could one person surround me? Well if you ever meet Wood you'll understand. He lives for the wizard game of Quidditch. It's a sport played with four different balls, while flying on brooms. It's my favorite sport as well, but really, he needs to work out his priorities.
I had a spoon full of stew in my mouth when hands clamped down on my shoulders. I shouted inarticulately and bit down on the spoon in surprise. My teeth hurt as I looked over my shoulder, and glared at Oliver, but he seemed oblivious.
"Sorry Harry. I didn't mean to startle you." Wood said, as he jammed himself into the small space between me and Ron. He pulled a stack of papers out of his pocket and, after giving everyone in the vicinity a suspicious look, held them between me and my lunch. The papers contained the most complicated set of Quidditch diagrams I'd ever seen.
"This year we have shot at the cup Harry. There's not a doubt in my mind that we can get it. Black brought you back in time. I knew he'd cave. You have a week and a half to practice before the Slytherin game…"
"Is he on you already?" asked Fred Weasley, appearing behind me. He managed to squash himself in between Wood and me. At the far end of the bench a first year dropped onto the floor.
"He's been writing to Black since the train ride up," said George, who eyed the over crowded bench, before making a space for himself between me and Hermione, and forcing another first year off the far end.
"I thought I could reason with him," said Wood. "I was about to send the hundred and sixty seventh letter when you showed up at the front gate."
Wood reached into his pocket and removed another huge pile of papers. He handed them to me to inspect.
To Mr. Sirius Black,
As a former member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, I am certain you can understand the importance of the Quiddttch Cup and its place in the rivalry between the houses of Hogwarts school. Gryffindor, your former house, has not won the cup for the last seven years. Rather the victory has gone to Slytherin. I implore you to return to us our Seeker, Harry Potter, for with out him the cup shall again be placed in Slytherin hands.
I am sure whatever business you have with Harry is of the utmost priority to you, but perhaps you can find enough leniency in your schedule to return Harry to us, at least until the end of the Quidditch season.
The letter went on in that strange business like manner for five more rolls of parchment, and ended with the signature,
Sincerely,
Oliver Horatio Wood, Gryffindor Quidditch Captain
"Black used to be in Gryffindor?" I asked.
"Yes," Wood said off handedly, "He was a beater. His name is all over the trophy case in the east wing. He played on the same team as your father."
We all turned to gawk at Wood then.
"Black went to school with my dad?"
"I suppose, they were on the Gryffindor team together for six years."
I didn't think Oliver was lying. He lived and breathed Quidditch, and he'd memorized every book and school record concerning the house teams. No wonder Black said I looked like James. I turned toward the head table, but Dumbledore wasn't there. I gulped down my stew, and Wood began to explain the diagrams he'd made.
As Hermione, Ron, and I walked out to Hagrid's hut, where the Care of Magical Creatures class was being held, I made a vow to myself. With Scabbers gone and the Headmaster being less then forthcoming, I would find out Black's true identity on my own. Wood had given me a place to start. I was off in my own little world thinking of that. I didn't notice Draco Malfoy standing in front of me until I ran into him.
I suppose, before I get into this, I should tell you that Draco Malfoy is the most spoiled, rotten, arrogant albino weasel you could ever run into, and his father is worse. Draco has two lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle, who follow him everywhere and do what ever he says. Malfoy and his goons spend most of their time cheating at classes and bulling smaller students. I think you'll understand my not apologizing for accidentally knocking him over.
He was on his feet in an instant trying to look down his nose at me, but he wasn't that much taller, so the end result was him tilting his head back and looking at me some what cross eyed.
"Well if it isn't poor little Potter," he drawled. "The school governors wanted you sent to St. Mungo's, but I suppose Dumbledore got his golden boy out of it."
I shrugged.
"So how was your little vacation with Black? I'm sure he had a good time." Malfoy stood sneering.
I shrugged. I guess Malfoy was trying to get a reaction out of me. Ron looked ready to hit him. I couldn't seem to work up a temper though. Maybe I was too stressed out or something. I promised myself I'd come up with a good insult for him later, or punch him in the nose at the very least.
"Did Black cut out your tongue or something Potter, or am I just talking too fast for you to understand?"
"Shut up Malfoy!" Ron shouted. It was nice that he was trying to defend me, but he needed to work on his comebacks.
I saw a huge figure rushing up the hill then, and thought I was saved from further embarrassment. It was Rubeus Hagrid, the school grounds keeper and Care of Magical Creatures Professor. He'd just become a Professor this year, while I was trapped in Grimmauld Place. Hagrid was about eight feet tall, and had the habit of collecting blood thirsty monsters as pets, so he was well suited to the job. I was starting to get a bit concerned though, as Hagrid had almost reached us and showed no signs of slowing down.
Ron and Hermione managed to hop out of the way just in time to avoid a rather lung collapsing hug. Hagrid apparently forgot that, as a thirteen year old boy, being hugged by a teacher was about the equivalent of having your social life executed. I couldn't yell at him to quit making a fool of me though. Saying mean things to Hagrid is rather like smashing a puppy on the head with a brick.
He eventually noticed I was running out of air and put me down. Malfoy and his goons were cracking up, but Hagrid ignored them and I tried to do the same. Hagrid was starting to look a bit weepy and what he said next really shocked me.
"I'm sorry Harry, I should'a killed Black when I had the chance, and none of this would'a happened."
"What?"
"He tried to get yeh before, when yeh was just a baby. I didn't let him have ya' but I didn't do anything to stop him getting away. I'm sorry."
He looked ready to hug me again. I did my best to avert further disaster. "It's alright, really Hagrid it is. Nothing all that terrible happened. Everything's alright now."
He seemed more upset over what happened then I did. Hermione, Ron and I finally managed to clam him down enough to teach class. I planned to question him later. Ron told me that Hagrid had decided they would study smaller creatures first, to avoid another hippogriff disaster. Hagrid went into his hut and returned with two woven wicker cages. There was an ominous hiss from within.
"Is it snakes?" asked Ron quietly. I shook my head. It sounded more like angry cats to me.
Hagrid reached into one cage and pulled out a hissing pale thing. It was hard to see it clearly in Hagrid's massive hands. What I could make out was very frightening though. It had four limbs and all of its joints seemed to bend both ways. Its lumpy little head turned 180 degrees and glared at the class with glowing red eyes, before turning back to chomp down on Hagrid's fingers with needle like teeth.
"Who'd like to ter hold this little guy?"
The class stepped back in horror. Hagrid looked nearly heart broken. I looked at Ron.
"You get the legs I'll get the arms?" I asked.
He turned pale but nodded.
"We'll do it." I said.
Hagrid held the little monster out to us, but the second he let go of it, it leapt right at Ron's face. My hand shot out and caught the creature by the back of the neck, an inch from Ron's nose. After a bit of tossing, grabbing, and punting, Ron and I got a secure grip on the creature's arms and legs. There were no volunteers to hold the second one.
"Now, who can tell me what these are?" Hagrid asked, holding the second creature.
Hermione raised her hand. "They're Gremlins, indigenous to Europe and the British isles, though they have been transported to the new world and Australia. They have an instinctive hatred of mechanical devises, and are commonly found in areas of muggle industry. The first recorded sightings occurred during the bronze age…"
"I thought the professor was supposed to teach the class," drawled Malfoy.
"Hey Malfoy! Catch!"
Malfoy dived behind his goons as I mimed throwing the scowling creature.
The rest of the class flew by. We learned that to pacify a gremlin, one had to give it a mechanical object to take apart. When it had succeeded it would continue it's rampage, but you could buy yourself a few minutes in which to restrain it.
There was no more trouble, until the very end of class, when it came time to put the gremlins back in their cages. Hagrid's went quietly enough, but when Ron and I attempted to cram ours back into it's wicker prison, it slipped out of my grasp, bit Ron, and was dashing for the forest before we could blink.
Not really thinking, I sprinted after it, into the forbidden forest. I hadn't gone very far before I caught the little monster in a diving tackle. We skidded down a slight hill. As I crawled to my feet I noticed the gremlin wasn't moving. I tried to check its pulse and jaws snapped at me, though it's eyes didn't open. I guessed that meant it was alive.
I picked it up by one of its overly flexible limbs and began to jog back to the school. I got a feeling then, like I was being watched. I started to run faster and stepped in a clump of Devil's Snare, tripping as the vines wrapped around my ankle. The gremlin flew out of my hand as I went over and smacked into a tree.
I relaxed for a second and the plant let go, slithering back into the shadows under a hedge. I rolled onto my hands and knees, and came nose to nose with the black dog. It stared at me with its pale blue eyes, but it didn't turn into Sirius Black. The dog's ears flicked and it looked to the side for a moment, then turned back to me. I tried to look agreeable.
"Harry!" called Ron's voice from near by.
A low growl rumbled from the dog's throat. It lunged forward, and somebody's life flashed before my eyes. I don't know that it was mine exactly. A lot of it seemed to be from a biography of Winston Churchill I had to watch in fourth grade. Instead of tearing my face off, the dog licked me, and I cringed. When I opened my eyes again the dog had disappeared, leaving only a trail of drool from my chin to my nose.
I snatched up the unconscious gremlin and jogged off toward Ron's bellowing calls, whipping the spit off as I went.
"You got him!" Ron declared happily, looking at the nasty little monster tucked under my arm. I nodded, searching the forest for the dog. More then ever I needed to know what Black was about, and what he was capable of.