Chapter Six – Cyber Drumroll Time!
(A/N: I'm bored. And I can't ride a bike. Which is very, very not good because I have to ride a bike on that school trip to Guilin. We're going to be bike-riding along some river. Which I am going to fall into. Because I can't ride a bike.
And the even worse thing about all that is that I can't even skip out on that activity. Because if I refuse to learn to ride a bike, I'm going to be running. And I'm even worse at running than I am at bike-riding. And that is saying something, because I can't ride a bike.)
'That's gotta hurt,' Blaise mumbled to himself quietly, so that no one heard. It wasn't done for a Slytherin to feel sympathy for a Gryffindor – for anyone, really, except possibly Slytherins, but especially Gryffindors.
Madam Hooch hurried over to Neville and inspected him gingerly. 'Broken wrist,' Harry heard her mutter. 'Come on boy, it's all right, up you get.'
'None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You…'
Harry tuned her out. She was getting boring. He wondered what would be for dinner tonight. Pork chops, perhaps? Shepherd's pie? Yorkshire pudding (technically for dessert, but still)?
Draco suddenly burst into laughter, which brought him back into the real world. He looked around, and noticed that both Neville and Madam Hooch were gone.
'Did you see his face, the great lump?' Draco choked out.
'Leave Neville alone, you great prat,' Parvati spat at him.
'Ooh, sticking up for him now are you? Never thought you'd be the type to go for fat little crybabies, Patil,' said Pansy Parkinson smugly.
'Hey, what's this?' Draco said suddenly, effectively breaking up the banter. He bent down to pick up a globe from the floor. 'It's Longbottom's Remembrall.'
Harry had no idea what a Remembrall was, but it was Neville's, and he didn't like Draco anyway, so…
'Give it back, Dra – Malfoy,' he corrected himself.
Draco sneered. 'I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to retrieve – how about…up a tree?'
'Give it back!' Harry yelled, but Draco had already shot up into the air on his broom.
'Come and get it, Potter!' he shouted tauntingly. Harry was furious. He grabbed his broom – Hermione Granger looked like she was about to stop him, but decided against it – mounted it, and kicked off.
He soared up, up, up, and discovered, with much joy, that this was something he could do without being taught. He turned to face Draco, who looked quite surprised.
'Give it here,' Harry repeated, 'or I'll knock you off your broom!'
'Oh yeah?' Draco tried to look intimidating, but failed.
Harry leaned forward, gripping the broom tightly in both hands, and he shot towards Draco like a javelin. Draco's eyes widened, and he quickly scrambled to get out of the way.
Harry turned back around to face Draco again. 'No one up here to save your neck, Malfoy,' Harry called.
The same thought seemed to have struck him. 'Catch it if you can, then!' he yelled, and he threw the glass ball up into the air and streaked back down to the ground.
Harry watched in horror as the Remembrall rose up, and as though in slow motion, began to fall back down to the ground below.
He leant forward again, pointing the end of the broom downwards towards the Remembrall, and zoomed down, down, down, getting ever closer to the glass ball – a foot from the ground he caught it, pulled his broom up sharply, and toppled gently onto the grass.
He half expected for a teacher to run out and expel him immediately, but nothing happened.
'HARRY POTTER!'
Oops. Spoke too soon.
Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, was running towards them. He got to his feet, shaking.
'Never, in all my time at Hogwarts…'
Professor McGonagall was practically speechless with shock. 'How dare you – might have broken your neck…'
Harry looked around helplessly. No one was going to help him, not against the strict, formidable Head of Gryffindor (and Deputy Headmistress).
'Potter, follow me, now.'
He looked back as he walked after Professor McGonagall – Draco somehow managed to look smug, triumphant, and slightly worried all at once. Blaise just looked worried (and was trying to hide it with a mask of indifference).
Oh, man. He was so dead.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice that Professor McGonagall was heading down to the dungeons.
He only looked up when he heard her knock on a door. The plaque on the door said 'Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House'.
Oh dear. This was really very not very good. At all.
'Enter,' came Snape's voice. Professor McGonagall opened the door. Snape's lip curled unpleasantly when he caught sight of Harry.
'Professor Snape,' said Professor McGonagall, 'I just found Potter executing an extremely dangerous fifty-foot dive while Madam Hooch was taking a student to the hospital wing. This is a severely unsafe act, and he must be punished accordingly, so that he may never do it again. It sets a bad example to other students, Professor Snape.'
Snape just sat there and listened to her speech. When she was done, he just looked at her. Then he glanced at Harry.
'Thank you, Professor McGonagall. I will deal with Potter accordingly.'
Professor McGonagall didn't move.
'Thank you for informing me of Potter's…misdeeds,' he said, getting up and heading over to the door. 'Let me escort you out.'
Professor McGonagall's lips thinned. 'Thank you, Professor Snape, but I can escort myself out, thank you very much.' She walked out.
Snape closed the door and sat back down in his chair. He surveyed Harry, who fidgeted uncomfortably.
When he spoke, it was in a soft, dangerous voice. 'Potter, why did you fly on your broomstick when I know for a fact that Madam Hooch never would have left a class without warning them first of the severe consequences should a student even touch their broomstick?'
Harry started to explain. 'It was Malfoy, professor, and he stole Neville Longbottom's Remembrall, and he flew off with it, and I was only trying to help Neville, professor – '
'Enough,' Snape interrupted. 'I do not care for your feeble excuses, Potter.'
'But Malfoy started it – '
'It does not matter who started it. It matters, however, that you broke the rules when Madam Hooch so specifically set them for your own safety.' He got up again.
'But it does not matter to you, does it, Potter? That she was only looking out for your health? You are just like your father, Potter…no care for the rules at all…strutting around the school like he owned the place…'
'My father didn't strut,' said Harry vehemently. 'And nor do I.'
Snape rounded on him, eyes flashing. 'Do not interrupt a teacher, Potter!'
Harry glared at him. He didn't actually know his father, but he was sure – absolutely sure – that he wasn't as arrogant as Snape was making him out to be. He didn't know why Snape seemed to have a personal vendetta against his father, but hey, all the more reason to hate him, then.
Snape calmed down again. 'Detention, Potter. Five o' clock, Tuesday, in my office.'
'Yes, professor.'
'Now get out.'
Harry walked out, slamming the door behind him. He heard Snape call out after him, 'Five points from – I mean to – ah, geez.'
Harry snorted in laughter.
That night, Harry was sitting alone eating dinner (Blaise was in the library, finishing up his Transfiguration essay).
'Having a last meal, H – Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?' a voice said behind him.
Harry turned around and was surprised to see that Draco had quickly recruited Crabbe and Goyle again. He could've sworn he'd heard him slip and start to say 'Harry', but he thought he must have heard wrong.
He looked at Draco square in the eye. 'You're a lot braver now you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you,' Harry said, trying to maintain an air of indifference. There was of course nothing 'little' about neither Crabbe nor Goyle, but as they were in the Great Hall, with teachers sitting right up there at the High Table, there was nothing they could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl threateningly.
Harry had the fleeting thought that he still hadn't learned to scowl or smirk properly yet.
Draco scowled. 'I'd take you any time on my own. Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only, no contact. What's the matter, never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?'
Harry swallowed. He had, of course, absolutely no idea what a wizard's duel was, but perhaps he could bluff his way through.
'Of course I have,' he said.
'Oh yeah?' Draco sneered. 'What is it then?'
Well, that didn't work. He was in a tight spot. What could he do? He opened his mouth, no idea of what he was about to say, but –
'Why're you asking him, Malfoy, do you need him to tell you?' Ron interrupted.
'Oh look, a dirt-poor Weasley,' Draco said with disdain.
Ron clenched and unclenched his fists. Harry looked on in surprise.
'Well, who's your second then, Potter?' Draco said, now addressing Harry. Harry looked up, panicking.
'I'm his second, of course,' said Ron, saving Harry again. 'Who's yours?'
Draco glanced at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.
'Crabbe,' he said finally. 'Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room, that's always unlocked.' And he sloped off, Crabbe and Goyle following.
Harry looked at Ron gratefully. 'Thanks,' he said. 'What is a wizard's duel, anyway? And what's a second?'
'A second's there to take over if you die,' said Ron. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added, 'but people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other.'
Harry relaxed. 'Thanks,' he said gratefully. 'For saving me.'
'Don't mention it,' said Ron shortly. And he left, too.
Well, that was a start, at least.
Harry spent the rest of the evening helping Blaise with his essay. Well, not helping with the writing of the essay, as such, but more like helping Blaise to puzzle over what to write next. So technically, Harry was actually helping.
They left the library at eight forty-five (because their curfew was nine o' clock) for the Slytherin common room.
When they got there, it was eight-fifty. Harry promptly flopped down onto a chair.
It was only mid-flop that Harry realised what the chairs were made of, and tried to stop himself. But, as you may well know, It is very hard to stop oneself flopping while one is mid-flop. When he landed, he was rather surprised to find himself bouncing slightly on the 'stone'.
'I'm going up to work on my essay,' Blaise muttered, heading for the steps. Harry made a small noise of acknowledgement, not moving.
Did he have any homework? He thought for a bit.
Oh, yes he did. He had a Potions assignment. Which was…due tomorrow. Morning. First thing.
Harry jumped out of the chair and sprinted up the stairs.
Blaise was working quietly on his desk and didn't even look up when Harry came in. Draco was nowhere to be seen.
Harry got to work.
A few hours later, Harry yawned and leaned back in his chair, tipping it back on its legs. He looked over to Blaise's desk. The work was there, but the person was not. He glanced at Blaise's bed. He was already asleep. Harry supposed he'd been so engrossed in his work he hadn't noticed Blaise getting up.
He checked his watch and gave a start, toppling the chair over and landing with a painful thud on the floor. 'Ouch!'
It was already eleven forty-five. Had it really taken him that long to do his Potions homework?
He quickly righted the chair, cleared off his desk, and stretched, giving another huge yawn.
He started again when he realised he had to meet Draco in the trophy room. What was he going to say when Ron didn't show up?
Harry sighed, pocketed his wand, and left for the trophy room.
(A/N: Review! Please review a lot! Because reviews are nice! And everyone likes reviews!
Oh, and by the way, someone give me a title for this chapter. A sensible title. Please.)
High Serpent King Well, I made up my mind, see? And I chose the one that won the polls, so you should be happy, eh:) Dogss I know you probably meant to flame me or something, butI actually found your review funny. Especially that last bit. :P Serb-Maco Thanks! Here's your chapter then...:D