Disclaimed
Author's Notes: Sorry the update took sooooooo long. My excuses are thus: midterm, term paper, midterm, midterm, finals in progress. Thank you for your patience and reviews.
The Basement
By Marz
Chapter 23: Grappling with Bad Luck
The lights faded from the room, until only the dementor remained visible, gliding slowly towards me. I swore to myself I wouldn't pass out again, but my knees started to buckle anyway. I needed a happier memory. My first trip to Hogwarts produced a thin silver mist, but that wasn't going to cut it. As the slimy gray hands stretched out in an almost beckoning gesture, I thought of last Christmas.
"You should be sleeping in the hospital wing, Harry," Hermione said.
"I'm not going to sleep through Christmas."
"I'm not suggesting you sleep through Christmas, but climbing about putting up decorations is not good for your condition."
"He's not the one doing the climbing!" Ron objected, wobbling and nearly falling from his precarious perch on the mantle.
"That's not what I meant."
"But it's what you said," Ron retorted. "Hand me more of the gold tinsel."
I scooped up a handful and made my way over to Ron. My arm shook as I reached up toward him, and as soon as he took it from me I sank down to the floor, light headed. Hermione rushed over too me, as if I were a septuagenarian who'd just tumbled down an escalator. I managed to get up without her help though. It was nearly seven o'clock in the evening and I still felt like the gum under someone's shoe. Why did the full moon have to show up on Christmas Eve? It wasn't going to ruin Christmas though. I wouldn't let it. I staggered over to a couch and slumped down. The common room was nearly finished anyway.
I thought it looked better then the Great Hall. We'd even set up a little table with candy and snacks from Hogsmead. It wasn't a real dinner, but I think we had something from every food group. Sweet, fatty, and salty were all well covered, and the caramel apples might even count as fruit. I'd put dog treats out as a joke as well, for the guest of honor.
I was most proud of the Christmas tree. We'd made it by transfiguring a coat-rack from the second floor. By we, I mean Ron and I brought it up here, attempted to transfigure it, and then had to beg Hermione for help. I still can't believe how good a job she did. The tree even smelled real. We'd put all our Christmas presents under it, after agreeing to open them during the party. The whole thing looked very Christmassy. At least I thought it did. What if it didn't though? What if it just looked pathetic and stupid? What if he hated it, or it reminded him of Azkaban and he spent the whole evening spaced out and muttering? What if the Ministry threw a surprise Christmas inspection and walked in on us all?
I was about to suggest in panic, that we cancel the whole thing, when someone knocked on the portrait. The fat lady objected loudly and shrilly to being knocked on. I pried myself out of the couch and went to the door. I pushed open the frame. Professor Lupin was standing in the hallway, tipped oddly to the left, and looking not quite conscious.
"Can we come in then?" asked Sirius' disembodied voice.
It took me a moment to recall that I'd loaned him my cloak of invisibility. I nodded and stepped aside, so he could help Professor Lupin through the portrait. I was about to shut the entrance when I saw Professor Dumbledore coming up the hallway, with a large Christmas package under his arm. He was followed closely by Hagrid and Professor McGonagall. Hagrid had a package under his arm as well, and it was moving. I got out of the way so they could come in. I'd asked Hagrid to come by. I guess Hermione had invited the other teachers, or maybe they just decided to crash. It's not as if we could say anything about it if they did. I was worried it would be awkward with them hanging around, but things turned out alright. Better then alright really.
Professor Lupin slept through most of the party, but provided a lot of the entertainment. The transformation seemed worse for him, but maybe that was because he was so old, almost forty. Sirius put him in one of the arm chairs, and whenever he started snoring Sirius would take decorations from the tree and add them to Lupin's attire, until he woke up again. Hermione looked like she was going to object to the blatant abuse of a teacher, until Sirius gave her a conspiratal smile and bet her a galleon she couldn't hang two glass unicorn ornaments from Lupin's ears without waking him up. She won that bet by the way.
Dumbledore opened the box he'd brought. It turned out to be full of crackers, and soon the room was full of confetti, pinkish smoke and bizarre party favors. Hagrid got a wind up toy monkey that clapped little symbols together and told bad jokes in Latin. Well I assumed they were bad jokes. My Latin isn't that good. Professor McGonagall's cracker showered everyone in the room with catnip and live mice. Lupin woke up for a bit when a mouse ran down the front of his robes. He kept his eyes open long enough to pull apart a cracker with Sirius, though he didn't appear inclined to keep the loudly singing rubber chicken that fell out of it.
Hagrid was trying to get people to guess what was in the box he brought. Whenever the box came within three feet of Crookshanks, the cat would hiss and all the hair on its body would stand on end. The box was addressed to Hermione, Ron, and I, but none of us was particularly eager to open it.
The evening rushed on and people started munching on the snacks we'd set up. Professor McGonagall was looking over the table when I noticed a horrendous problem. We'd yet to show Sirius his dog treats, and before I could shout a warning Professor McGonagall had popped one in her mouth. Ron was looking as well, and I saw his mouth drop open. Our Head of House picked up another dog treat, and Ron started to get a little pale.
McGonagall turned towards Dumbledore. "Albus you must try these."
Dumbledore looked at Ron and I, before cheerfully smiling and crunching up one of the tiny bone shaped biscuits. "They taste a bit like bacon," he said, his eyes crinkling in poorly concealed laughter.
Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore left at a little past nine. They claimed they intended to invite Professor Snape to Hogsmead for a drink, before the evening came to an end. We wished them good luck, to be polite.
"I've gotta be heading out too," Hagrid said. "Gotta' give all a' the class creatures their Christmas presents. Bought forty pound of raw liver this mornin'. Before I go I wanted you three ter have this."
"What is it?" asked Ron.
"Well, it's a surprise. I don't want ter ruin it," the huge man responded.
He handed the bucking hopping box to Hermione, Ron, and me. Sirius came forward curiously, leaning over our shoulders. I pulled at the large, vomity colored ribbon, and noticed with great relief that Hermione was holding her wand, incase our present needed to be restrained. The ribbon came loose, and the box went still. I started slowly peeling the tape off of the wrapping paper. I lifted the lid of the box and found it was filled with shredded bits of the Daily Prophet. They gave an ominous rustle as I reached over the edge. I swallowed.
"Hagrid would you say this surprise was little, say like a gopher, or big, like a flying piranha?" I asked.
"Oh its much better then any a those things."
"…er…right."
I took a big breath of air incase the surprise produced some kind of poisonous vapor, and pulled the shredded Prophet out. I sighed in relief. At the bottom of the box, a gray speckled kitten sat curled up in a ball. Its face was hidden in a corner of the box, and its pointed ears twitched. I laughed a little and Hermione put her wand away.
Hermione smiled and reached into the box.
"Hagrid! Why'd you get us all wound up for a ca..AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The creature uncurled as Hermione lifted it, and we got a full view of its head. A miniature human face grinned at us from the front of the kitten's skull. Crookshanks charged, hissing, and the creature slid out of Hermione's hand. It ran around us, and vaulted over the sleeping Professor Lupin. Crookshanks stayed on it's heals, and for a second I thought the cat had it cornered. Then the strange little animal winked at me, and ran up the wall. It disappeared into the tinsel hung from the ceiling and emitted a high disturbing giggle.
"That's a Pooka," Sirius said conversationally.
Hagrid nodded. "Sure is. I got the little fella from a friend of mine in Ireland, no charge. Seems his previous owner died unexpectedly."
Ron made a funny sound. I couldn't tell if it was a hiccup or gagging.
"A…A…A…pooka?" Hermione said. I could tell she was trying to come up with a friendly way to tell Hagrid to take the horrible thing back. "What…why…er…how are we going to take care of a pooka? Don't they need a special diet or something?"
"No, a pooka'll eat just about anything."
"What if he doesn't like being in the castle?" I asked, hoping the animal was claustrophobic.
"If he didn't like yeh, there'd be a smell."
Goody.
"What if…what if…" I had nothing.
"Don't you kid's worry, I'm sure you'll get along famously. Well I've got ter be off. Happy Christmas!"
Hagrid left.
The three of us looked at each other, and as one our eyes went to the suspicious quivering tinsel hanging over our heads. When Sirius put a hand on my shoulder I let out an incredibly embarrassing noise. Not a shriek exactly, but close.
"I don't know if I can top a Pooka," he said, "but I've got a few things for you kids too."
"Pooka repellent?" asked Ron.
"Not quite."
Sirius took his wand from the sleeve of his robe and waved it. A puff of smoke jetted from the end and settled to the floor. When it cleared three festively wrapped packages lay before us. The dense book shaped one was addressed to Hermione. What was obviously a bird cage wrapped in maroon paper bore Ron's name. A final long rectangular package was labeled "Harry." We all picked up our gifts. The rectangular package was heavy and I could feel a handle under the paper on one side. I tried to think of what would be in such a case, and I was struck with the sudden suspicion that Sirius had decided I needed a muggle rifle. The package was about the length of the gun Uncle Vernon had unsuccessfully attempted to frighten Hagrid with two years ago.
"What ever you're thinking is way off," Sirius said cheerfully. I hoped he was right.
I was about to tear off the paper when I remembered the gift I'd gotten for Sirius. I got to my feet. I was starting to feel a bit like Lupin looked, but I made it to the tree and back alright. You'd think it would be easy to shop for an escaped convict, but it really isn't. I'd finally settled on a set of sunglasses that were charmed to make the wearer unrecognizable. He looked surprised when I put the package in his hands, then he got really strange look. Worried he'd go into a muttering fest, I suggested we all unwrap our gifts on the count of three.
Before I could start the count down a high giggling voice called from over head, "Three-two-one," followed by a high tittering laugh. Sirius shrugged and we went to work. Ron got a crazy miniature gray owl. Hermione got a book on O.W.L.s preparation. I got the paper off of the case, and opened the latches.
I almost shouted "FIREBOLT" instead of "EXPECTO PATRONUM." I caught my self in time. A silver light flew from the end of my wand and I couldn't see anything for a few seconds. I heard the clack of the latches on the trunk, and I knew Professor Lupin had put the Bogart back in storage. The cold faded from the room before my vision was all the way back to normal, but I had a clear look at a silver glowing stag walking soundlessly across the room towards me before it faded into mist and vanished.
"Very good Harry," said Professor Lupin from behind me.
I turned. He was rubbing his eyes and blinking. Perhaps there should be a "do not look directly at the Patronus" warning.
"Are you feeling alright? Do you need some chocolate?" he asked.
"No thanks, I'm perfectly fine," I said.
"Good." Lupin paused, and looked towards the door. "Are you feeling alright about other things as well?"
I nodded. I wished he wouldn't bring it up, but I knew he would.
"There have been no further incidents with Mr. Malfoy?" Lupin asked.
If I'd done anything he'd already know. He was probably trying to be polite by asking, but it was getting on my nerves. The "incident" was over four months ago, and Lupin was still acting nervous about it. At least he'd stopped giving speeches on self control.
"I've killed him actually, and disposed of the body in last Thursday's potpie."
"Harry it's not a joke."
"I know. I haven't been in anymore fights. And I've got the aggression related drooling under control as well."
"It all gets easier with time," he said sagely.
I was tempted to point him to a mirror. Lupin wouldn't be questioned if he tried to get senior discount at a restaurant. I'd only transformed four times, and I was already noticing gray hairs. And it's not as if I was looking for them. I don't spend hours in the bathroom preening or anything, but they really stand out. I'd asked Ron and Hermione for suggestions and it spurned a three hour argument about whether gray hair should be plucked or dyed.
Maybe Lupin meant something metaphorical, or maybe he was trying to pass off some technicality as great wisdom. Lycanthropy shortens your life, so you have less time, and therefore it's easier to deal with. I started feeling depressed right then, so I knelt down and started rummaging through my backpack, for a way to change the subject. I guess Lupin saw it was bothering me, because he switched to a new topic before I found one.
"Have you spoken to Professor Snape about rescheduling?"
"I'm going to ask when we finish here. If I go to his office too early I might run into some Slytherins." I said.
Lupin nodded. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something else as well, Harry. You've caught up with the rest of the class, and honestly you've gotten more then a bit ahead of them. The fifth and seventh year students are preparing for their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. They're very behind, and if they are all going to pass they will need more tutoring, and there for more office hours…"
I cut off his rambling. "So I'm no longer required to attend catch up lessons every other night?"
I didn't want to stop coming. Lupin was a good teacher and it felt rather like I was being kicked out. I pretended to be happy about it though, so he wouldn't feel guilty. "Are we done then?"
He nodded, and I packed up my quills and notes.
"It's just one day."
"Perhaps you need your hearing checked. I said no."
"You rescheduled the entire season for Malfoy's arm."
"I did."
Punching Snape won't help. Punching Snape won't help. Punching Snape won't help. I tried to listen to the little voice, but there were much louder parts of me screaming less useful advice. I managed to shut them all up for a moment.
"Why won't you?"
"Potter, if I make special allowances for you, despite our well known animosity, it will draw unwanted and dangerous attention to you and your…condition." He sounded perfectly honest, but he couldn't keep the mean little smile from twitching the corners of his mouth. "Gryffindor will just have to make do without their seeker."
Oh go ahead and hit him said the little voice. I didn't though. I walked to the doorway, and turned to face him.
"I'll be on the pitch Saturday," I said. "It's not as if I have to be fully awake to beat Malfoy to the snitch. I don't even know why I asked. It's not as if you owe me anything."
He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. I slammed the door behind me.
The plus side was I got to walk all the way back to Gryffindor tower feeling morally superior. But the common room robbed me of my righteous anger. Oliver Wood was sitting in front of the fire, going over hundreds of pages of notes on Quidditch strategy he'd compiled in his seven years at Hogwarts. Beside his chair were huge stacks of textbooks about the sport, and for reasons known only to Wood and God, a manikin in Quidditch robes.
"Hello Oliver," I said carefully.
"Harry, come here, I need you to see something."
"It doesn't involve the manikin does it?"
"What? No. Of course not. I need you to read this book of plays from the Brazilian national team, and then you have to look at these diagrams from the New Zealand vs. India match of 1926. They had to play a man short and it's very important that we all understand the dynamic of…"
"Oliver, have you reviewed for your N.E.W.T.s at all yet?" I interrupted.
He gave me a "You're stupid" look, then said, "I'll have a whole week to review after the championship game."
"Oh, right." I took the books from him and headed to my dorm room. "I'll just start on these then."
Wood nodded.
That night I sat on my bed thinking, and it was very unpleasant. I started wishing that something would happen, that there would be some miracle, where Malfoy lost his arm in a potions accident, or Flint got his foot stuck in a bear trap and couldn't be found in time for the game. I even wished the Weasley twins would get themselves suspended for some prank, so it wouldn't be all my fault when we lost the championship. I only had two real options though. Either I quit the team now so they have time to train a replacement, or I go to the game feeling like something the fell out the backend of an elephant.
At midnight I got up and wrote a letter to Sirius, begging advice. I crept to the owlery, without my cloak of invisibility. I half hoped I'd be caught by Filch and given some sort of Saturday spanning detention, but neither he nor his evil cat showed. I tied the letter to Hedwig's foot, and she left with a quiet hoot. I stood there for a long time, looking at the slowly swelling moon that would be full by Friday night. I was starting to feel tired, but I didn't want to go back to the dorm yet. It was crowded and stuffy and complicated, unlike the owlery, which was airy and isolated, and except for the owl turds everywhere, was a very nice place to sit and think. I didn't figure out that I'd fallen asleep until someone shook my shoulder to wake me up. I was sitting propped up against the wall, with my glasses still on, so I had no trouble seeing the girl who woke me. Unfortunately some part of my brain failed me, and I was unable to form a coherent sentence.
"Hu?" I said.
"You were asleep," said Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker.
She was wearing her school robes, but she still had slippers on her feet. She was smiling a little bit, and I couldn't figure out who was supposed to say what. She went to one of the school owls and tied an envelope to its leg. After it flew off, she turned back to me, still smiling. My voice started functioning, though whether or not I had any mental involvement in my speech was questionable.
"Oh, right yeah. Hi. Good morning I mean. What time is it?"
"Are you all right?" Cho asked.
My face decided right then to turn bright red. "I'm well thanks…er…how are you?"
"I'm ok. You're not sick are you?"
"No, I just came up here last night to mail a letter. I guess I fell asleep."
"That's good. Everyone's waiting for you to beat Slytherin on Saturday. We're all cheering for you. It would be awful if you got ill before the match."
"Me? Sick? No I'll be fine. Everything's good. I like your slippers."
She laughed nervously, and turned to leave.
Where is a cobble stone so that I might smash my own brains out? I looked at the floor until I heard Cho walk out. She called "good bye" as she left.
Cho was going to cheer for me. That thought was taking up almost all of my brain. It was rather like have a beach ball crammed inside my skull. There was no other choice then. When Saturday comes I've got to be on the pitch. I began to form a plan as I ran back to Gryffindor tower for my books and clothes. I came up with the finished product as I was fighting the Pooka for my socks. If the plan didn't kill me, Hermione would.