Chapter Eleven
Avalanche
When Harry opened his eyes, he wondered why everything looked so fuzzy. He groped around until he found his glasses on the bedside tables. He put them on and looked around slowly. Why was he in the hospital wing?
Then, with a stab of fear, he remembered: Tabitha.
He tried to pull himself out of bed, but he was having trouble making himself move. Madam Pomfrey suddenly appeared beside him. "Oh, no, Mr. Potter, not just yet. You're still too weak. Here, have a bit of this." She shoved a spoonful of steaming potion into his mouth. It tasted like a vomit-flavored Bertie Botts' Every-Flavor Bean.
Harry gagged and fought against her. "Where is she? Where's Tabitha? Is she all right?"
Madam Pomfrey tsked as she pushed Harry back against his pillow. "Professor McNoira, Mr. Potter. And she's right over there. I've drawn the curtain to give them some privacy. She's not awake yet, but I'm sure she'll be just fine. She suffered much worse injuries when she was a student here, playing Quidditch. Professor Weasley says you just found her in her room. Did you see what happened?"
"What?" No, Harry wanted to say. I killed her. Didn't Madam Pomfrey see that she wasn't moving? Hadn't Charlie carried her body up here? Professor Dumbledore would be coming soon with Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. They would put Harry on trial and he'd be in Azkaban for the rest of his life …
He suddenly felt something like a large weight pushing him into his bed. "Mr. Potter!" Madam Pomfrey was shouting, a note of fear in her voice. "Calm down, calm down! You didn't kill anyone! You're not going to Azkaban!"
Harry realized that he had been yelling and fighting with Madam Pomfrey. He let his arms rest by his side and she said, "Well, that's better, isn't it?" The weight on his chest lifted with a flick of her wand.
"I need to talk to Dumbledore!" Harry cried.
"You need to rest," Madam Pomfrey said firmly.
Harry indeed felt himself beginning to relax. He wondered what kind of potion Madam Pomfrey had given him.
He woke up screaming. Every time he hit Tabitha with that spell in his dreams, he saw Sirius being knocked backward, behind that mysterious archway in the Department of Mysteries.
Madam Pomfrey was on top of him again, this time with a more pleasant-tasting potion. Harry calmed immediately. "I told you we shouldn't try to wake him, Headmaster!" Madam Pomfrey said hotly. "The boy needs his rest!"
"Poppy, Poppy," said Dumbledore soothingly. "I assure you, your patient will be just fine when I'm done with him. Now, if you don't mind, I think Remus Lupin has a question for you."
Harry sat up, reaching for his glasses again. Professor Dumbledore had conjured himself a chair and was sitting next to Harry's bed. "Professor Dumbledore," Harry gasped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean …"
Dumbledore held up an old, white hand. "Harry." He smiled softly. "I know exactly what happened. I know you didn't mean to hurt Professor McNoira." Harry's head was still too fuzzy for him to think to ask how Dumbledore knew. He tried to shake thoughts of death and Azkaban from his mind.
"Is she awake? I need to tell her that I didn't mean ..."
"Harry, Professor McNoira knows very well that you didn't mean to hurt her. Your Stunning spell was stronger than either of you expected it to be. If anything, this will teach Tabitha to move her desk before practicing with you. She has a rather nasty bump on her head, but it's not much worse than that. Of course, Madam Pomfrey wants to keep her in here for several days." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "And you will not be permitted to leave until tomorrow morning, I'm afraid." He smiled at Harry once more, then moved towards Tabitha's curtained bed.
Harry didn't want to stay at the hospital wing overnight, but he was just so relieved that he hadn't killed Tabitha that he would have happily stayed there a week. He kept glancing towards Tabitha's bed, but he couldn't see much from his position. He lay back on the pillow and sighed.
He had caught her off-guard. She was still shaken from the first go—but Harry knew it wasn't from his Stunning her, because he hadn't been able to grab his wand. She saw something in Harry's memories that upset her. He closed his eyes, trying to think of what it was that she'd seen before jumping out of Harry's mind ...
"He can't have visitors now! He's sleeping, and besides, it's far too late!" Madam Pomfrey was shouting.
"Oh, please?" came Hermione's voice. "We just want to be sure he's all right ..."
Madam Pomfrey tsked. "Ten minutes," she said curtly.
Harry sat up, grinning. Ron and Hermione were approaching his bed, looking anxious. "Oh, you look much better!" Hermione cried, nearly knocking him over with a tight hug.
"We near about panicked when you fainted," Ron said. Hermione made a disapproving noise. Ron turned red. "Well, that is, I mean, I panicked, but Hermione put the feather-light charm on you so we could bring you up here."
Harry touched his forehead gingerly. He had just noticed a dull, throbbing pain. "Did I hit my head when I fell?" he asked.
Ron looked away, a bit embarrassed. Hermione said quickly, "Well, we tried Mobilicorpus first, but we didn't realize how hard it would be to maneuver you around corners ..."
"I deserved it, I guess," Harry joked. He lowered his head a bit. "Listen ... I'm really sorry about what I said today. We shouldn't be fighting, not now."
"It's all right, Harry." Hermione gave him a small smile, but Harry could see that she was still upset at what he'd said earlier.
"So what happened?" Ron asked eagerly. "When we bumped into you, you said you'd offed Tabitha."
Harry laughed nervously. He recounted the night's lesson to them, stressing how frightening it had been when he thought he'd killed Tabitha. "She'll hate me even worse now," he said glumly.
"Tell her to move her bloody desk next time!" Ron cried. "Honestly, she wouldn't've hit her head if it hadn't been there."
"All right, that was more than ten minutes!" Madam Pomfrey cried. She was standing at the foot of Harry's bed with more potion. "Off to bed now. You'll be up in a few hours for breakfast, and Mr. Potter needs his rest. Go on, out!" Ron and Hermione bid Harry goodnight and left for the common room together, holding hands. Madam Pomfrey forced the warm potion down Harry's throat, and he soon drifted into a sound, dreamless sleep.
By next morning at breakfast, rumors were filling the school. Students who had seen Charlie running Tabitha up to the hospital wing and then seen Hermione and Ron carrying Harry were saying that there had been an attack and, surely, if Lord Voldemort was really back, he was behind it. Others claimed that Harry and Tabitha had attacked each other—but no one could come up with a good reason why. Harry's appearance in the Great Hall caused a lot of whispers.
His fellow Gryffindors pelted him with questions. Harry didn't know exactly how to respond, so he made up a story about an escaped fire-crab, which only a few people seemed to believe. Hermione and Ron, though talking to him and obviously relieved that he was all right, were still a bit distant. Every time Harry looked at them, he still saw Hermione's face covered in tears and Ron red with anger.
When the entire school appeared to be present, Dumbledore stood up to make an announcement, which he never did at breakfast. "I have an unfortunate bit of news for everyone this morning," he said gravely. "Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor McNoira, will be indisposed for the remainder of the week." He smiled as mixed cheers of excitement and cries of disappointment (these mainly from the boys) filled the hall. "However, I have found a temporary replacement." The soft cheering stopped. "Professor Remus Lupin will be back for several days, until Professor McNoira is well enough to return to class."
A great murmur filled the Hall. In Harry's third year, when Lupin was their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, none of the students (or their parents) knew he was a werewolf. Before the year concluded, however, a vengeful Snape let it "slip" to some Slytherins that they, in fact, had a werewolf for a teacher. Lupin had resigned before he or Dumbledore suffered any real abuse from angry parents.
But Dumbledore was ready. "Your parents have been notified," he continued merrily. "And I have made it clear that as we are nowhere near the full moon, none of you are in danger of being mauled by a werewolf!" He didn't seem to pacify a great majority of the students. In fact, most students under the fourth year, who had never known Lupin, looked both confused and terrified. Many of them left the Great Hall a little while later with chalk-white faces.
Ron had a look of disgust on his face. "Honestly," he said. "Lupin never hurt anyone when he was here! Why is everyone suddenly making a big deal of it?"
"What do you expect, Ron?" Hermione sighed. "Most people just don't understand. How many people do you think know a werewolf personally?"
They continued to bicker as they made their way with Harry up to History of Magic. If it was possible, their teacher, Professor Binns (the only ghost teacher at Hogwarts) had gotten even more boring over the summer holiday. Even Hermione seemed less disposed to taking notes.
Ignoring Professor Binns for an entire class gave Harry lots of time to think. For the first time, a worry that had been playing in the back of his mind snaked its way to the forefront: Where was Voldemort? Harry was so used to feeling Voldemort's presence through his scar, but not once this summer had his scar even prickled. Could Voldemort have found some way to block Harry from feeling when he was happy or angry? Was he planning something truly horrible?
The whispers about Tabitha and Harry's supposed brush with Voldemort the night before had sparked Harry to think about something he was trying to ignore ... he didn't want to be reminded of Voldemort if he didn't have to be. But now he was feeling so in the dark. The Order had told him nothing new. If the Ministry was now actively pursuing Voldemort and his followers, then The Daily Prophet was not being told. After their blatant attack on Harry and his friends in the Ministry last year, Voldemort and his Death Eaters were laying low. That had to mean they were planning something ...
"... when Brim the Buck-toothed let an ill-tempered Ukrainian Iron-Belly loose on the Goblin Convention of ..."
Harry looked up for the first time all lesson. A Ukrainian Iron-Belly ... dragons ... what he heard about dragons?
Hagrid's hut! Though his mind was still fuzzy from the night before (he was sure he could thank Ron and Hermione and their Mobilicorpus charm for this), he was starting to remember the conversation he'd overheard at Hagrid's hut ... Hagrid, Charlie, and Tabitha were talking about dragons ... no, about a dragon … they were going to bring a dragon to Hogwarts ...what had Tabitha said about Dumbledore?
Hermione jumped as Harry suddenly turned around and grabbed her arm. "Hermione!" he whispered loudly. "Who discovered the twelve uses of dragon's blood?"
Confused, she said slowly, "Dumbledore. Why—?"
"If it wasn't Dumbledore, I would drop this plan straight away. But he's the one who made the discovery, so I won't question him." That's what Tabitha had said. She had to have been talking about dragon's blood!
"Dragons," Harry told Hermione and Ron as they left History of Magic. "That's what the Order has planned. They're doing something with dragons."
"How do you know?" Hermione asked suspiciously. "Are you sure you didn't just dream this last night, Harry? We didn't get to hear anything the Order did this summer."
"Last night before I went to dinner, I went to Hagrid's to talk," Harry said. "But he said he was busy. So, I sort of ... well, I spied on him. Hagrid and Charlie and Tabitha were talking about using a dragon in class ..."
"So that's why Charlie's Hagrid's assistant!" Ron cried.
"And he did tell us that he was here for Order business," Hermione pointed out excitedly. "Oh, have I got time to run up to the common room to get One-Hundred-and-One Magical Discoveries of the Twentieth Century? I can't remember all twelve uses of dragon's blood, but it's in there, I'm sure of it." Ron grabbed her hand before she actually tried to run to the common room.
"It can wait, can't it?" he said.
Hermione looked crestfallen. She had lost an opportunity to study. "I suppose," she sighed.
Hermione sat with Ginny at lunch. Harry and Ron were discussing how they were going to run Quidditch tryouts tomorrow night when Sloper and Kirke entered the Great Hall. Ron turned white. "I've been avoiding them since yesterday," he squeaked. "Their friend told them we were going to—"
"Potter, Weasley!" cried Jack Sloper, a solid, intimidating-looking fifth year. "We need to talk to you!"
"What is it, Jack?" Harry asked.
"Our friend Ben tells us you're planning on kicking us off the team," Andrew Kirke said angrily. He was smaller and less intimidating than his friend, but still had an intensely angry sneer on his face.
"Well, the thing is," Ron began. He looked to Harry for help.
"We're making everyone try out," Harry said quickly. "We just want to make sure that the whole team is really good ..."
Sloper narrowed his eyes. "So that means that you two are trying out, too?"
"Er ... yeah, yeah we ... we are." Harry felt incredibly stupid. Ron's face was white. On form, he was an excellent Keeper (he'd won the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor last year), but much of the time he had trouble keeping the other team from scoring. He and Harry certainly wouldn't be able to keep him uncontested as Keeper if someone much better tried out for the team ...
Sloper and Kirke, however, looked satisfied. "We'll see you on the pitch then," they said, before wandering away.
"We're trying ourselves out?" Ron said. "Harry ... that's about the dumbest thing ..."
"What else was I supposed to say!" Harry cried. "Where's Katie? I've got to tell her now ..." Katie Bell was sitting at the other end of the table. Harry approached her slowly. "Er, Katie?"
She looked up. "What is it, Harry?"
"Listen, I was telling Kirke and Sloper that we were going to replace them, and I kind of ... well, I accidentally told them that we were making everyone on the team try out again. So that means ..."
"You mean I have to try out for my own position?" Katie said, sounding more annoyed than angry.
"Listen, it's just to keep them quiet, all right? Ron and I wouldn't dream of kicking you off the team ..."
Katie nodded. "I guess it sounds all right. I just hope this doesn't backfire on you," she warned. Harry walked away, relieved. How could it backfire?
They had Charms that afternoon. Professor Flitwick discussed the basics of Apparition and less complicated Vanishing charms, and, thankfully, their only homework was to practice Vanishing quills. Harry tackled his Potions and Transfiguration homework, though his mind was on other things. They had Care of Magical Creatures tomorrow—they would have to ask Charlie and Hagrid about the dragon.
Harry remembered that he was supposed to meet Hagrid at eleven o'clock last night. While Ron and Hermione shared an armchair again, Harry slipped out of the common room. He may just be able to catch Hagrid alone.
Hagrid and Charlie were working in Hagrid's pumpkin patch. Harry could already see that this Halloween, Hagrid would be showing off his largest pumpkins yet.
Charlie saw Harry before Hagrid did. "Hey, Harry, feeling better?" he cried.
Harry nodded. "A bit, yeah."
Hagrid grinned at Harry. "Missed yeh last night," he said. "Thought yeh got caught by Filch, 'til Charlie told me this morning abou' wha' happened last night. Attacked, were yeh?"
"Fire-crab got loose," Harry said quickly. "We were trying to Stun it; spells went a little wild, I guess."
Hagrid nodded, if a bit uncertainly. "Yeh wanted ter talk abou' something, Harry?" He glanced at Charlie.
"I'll leave if you'd like, Harry. Actually," Charlie looked at his watch. "I've got to meet someone. See you at dinner, Hagrid. See you later, Harry." Charlie jogged towards the castle, his head a red blur in the waning sunlight.
"Come on inside, Harry, I'll make a spot o' tea," Hagrid said. His huge frame barely fit through his front door. Harry slipped inside behind him.
Fang, Hagrid's boarhound, looked up when they entered. He wagged his tail when he saw Harry.
"Now, Harry," Hagrid said as he made tea. "It was Sirius yeh wanted ter talk about?"
"Not really," Harry said.
"Not ready ter talk abou' him?" Hagrid said sympathetically. "It was a long time before I could talk abou' my dad." He set a cup of tea in front of Harry. "Wha' was it yeh wanted ter talk abou' then?"
"It's really nothing now," Harry said. "I was in a fight with Ron and Hermione, but we sort of made up."
"Couldn'ta bin much of a fight, then. Can't keep friends like you three apart, even if the two of them are a bit closer these days," Hagrid said wisely.
"You knew about them?" Harry looked surprised.
"Well, Charlie tol' me. Said they were carryin' on all summer."
Everyone noticed but me, Harry thought glumly.
"Hagrid, have—have the giants decided who they're going to side with yet?" Harry asked. He wanted to talk about Ron and Hermione about as much as he wanted to talk about Sirius, but he was intensely interested in what was happening with the Order. Last year, Hagrid had been missing for much of the first term because he was on a mission to convince the giants to side with Dumbledore. He had been close to success at first, but the Gurg (the giants' chief) was killed during a fight, and a new Gurg was appointed. This leader was not as interested in Hagrid or his partner, Madame Maxime (a half-giantess and Headmistress of Beauxbatons' Academy of Witchcraft), but he did become friendly with a Death Eater, sent by Voldemort for the same purpose that Dumbledore sent Hagrid.
Hagrid's face fell. "The giants are with You-Know-Who," he said. "Found out over the summer. But they migh' not last long. They've been killin' each other off faster than ever before. Grawpy's safe, though. He'll be on our side no matter what," Hagrid said with a grin. Harry didn't know how comforting a thought that was. Hagrid's half-brother Grawp (born of Hagrid's giantess mother and another giant) was only sixteen-feet-or-so tall, tiny for a full-blooded giant. Even if Hagrid had faith in his brother, Harry wasn't sure if Grawp would make much of a fighter.
"Look at that, Harry, it's dark out already!" Hagrid cried. "I'll bet dinner's started. Was there, er, anything else you wanted ter talk abou'?"
Harry thought fleetingly of the Hungarian Horntail he'd faced during the Triwizard Tournament in his fourth year. He decided to wait for Ron and Hermione before asking Hagrid about the dragons. But there was one thing ...
"Hagrid, Tab—er, Professor McNoira went to Hogwarts, right?"
"She sure did," Hagrid said. "Sorted inter Slytherin her first year, like the rest of her family, but she was sweeter than any Hufflepuff ye'd meet. Used ter be down here with me and Charlie all the time. He loved helpin' me look after everything down here, and Tabitha, well, bless 'er, she had nowhere else ter go. Loved my animals almost as much as me an' Charlie. She didn' have many friends while she was here, on account of ... er, never mind tha'. A bit surprisin', though, tha' she wouldn'ta had more friends. Nice girl, and a right funny one at that. She was re-Sorted in second year. Not something' ye see happen often, but it's necessary sometimes. She was put into Gryffindor."
"Re-Sorted? Why?"
"Can' tell ye that, Harry. None of my business. Ye want ter know, ye ask Tabitha. Best thing ter happen ter her, though. Don' know how she'd've turned out if she stayed in Slytherin." Could she possibly be any worse? Harry thought. "Gryffindor suited her. She was even better friends with Charlie after the switch, and I think she an' Fred and George got on well when they were firs' years. She was amazin' at Quidditch. If there'd been another like her, they'd've been a pair o' Beaters to rival Fred an' George." Hagrid grinned. "Enjoyin' her as a teacher, are yeh, Harry? I knew you two would get on well."
"Sure, Hagrid. Let's go up to dinner." They walked up to the castle together. Hagrid was talking about something—possibly Grawp's English lessons—but Harry was too focused on everything else. It would take him hours to clear his mind before bed.
I have no idea what year Sloper and Kirke are in—it's never specified in the books. So I'm making them fifth years.