Harry dreamed. He was running through the forbidden corridor. He was
running from something. The creature was chasing him through a labyrinth of
halls he knew hadn't been there before, but each one looked identical to
the last, all like the hallway he had traveled through that day.
And all the while, the voice spoke in his head. His hissing voice, yelling orders at him, occasionally a hiss emitting from his mouth. "Faster! Faster!" the hiss called out to the pursuing creature. "Don't let him get away!"
Harry felt himself pulling into different directions, one half pulling him toward his follower, the other lunging aimlessly forward, winning out only by the will of brazen fear. Suddenly, Harry's two halves pulled together, and plunged through a doorway. "Perfect..." he hissed, as his mind screamed at him, 'NO! NO! Get out now!' But it was too late. The voice had full control over his body. The voice was him. And it was singing sweetly, walking forward towards the giant Cerberus, it's heads lolling, until it fell before him and began to snore. Harry's mind gasped as the voice-powered Harry looked down. Underneath the dog, there had been hidden a secret.....
"Harry!" said someone, poking Harry in the back. "Harry! It's almost lights out! We have to get back to the dormitory."
Harry picked his head off of the table. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim candle light of the room. Sean was standing above him, with a lantern in hand. I came looking for you after me and the gang got back to the common room, and you didn't show up for over an hour. It's only the first day, we knew you couldn't have that much homework! Anyway, come on. We got to get back soon or,"--the lights all around them extinguished except for the lantern in Sean's hand--"we'll be out past curfew. Oh great! Harry, we've got to move! And we had better do it quietly! Old Filch and Mrs. Norris will be patrolling the hallways now, looking to give detention to any students who are out of the common rooms. And you have enough detention to worry about already.
Harry fulled Sean out of the library, still groggy. It wasn't until they stood outside of their common room, and Sean was speaking that password, that something clicked in Harry's head. He hadn't told Sean he had detention with Snape. But as Sean pulled Harry through the door into the common room, and smled at him for a mission completed, Harry's suspicion subsided. Sean had probably guessed. Harry 's mood probably hadn't been to hard to read at lunch. They went into the boy's corridor, and parted way at their room. "'Night, Harry."
"G'night, Sean," yawned Harry.
He climbed into his bed, and pulled the covers up to his chin, and slept dreamlessly.
____________________________________________________________________________ __________
"Harry! I heard you have Flying Class today!" said Olga at breakfast some weeks later.
"Yeah," said Harry, less than enthusiastically. He wasn't looking forward to the experience. As much as he was sure he would enjoy flying, he wasn't thrilled about practicing on a broom for the first time in front of the Slytherins. The last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of himself on a broomstick in front of them. Even the voice couldn't tell him that he would do well. He was sure he was about to go fall on his face several times, if he could get high enough to do it.
It didn't help that the Gryffindors would be there. There was still blood-chilling animosity between the houses. Harry could tell that it was getting hold of Ron. He looked uncomfortable whenever Harry tried to talk to him, looking apologetically at Seamus and Dean. It's not tat he didn't seem to like Harry. He just seemed to think it would make him 'guilty by association' of the crime of being a piece of Slytherin scum.
But it wasn't just Ron that Harry didn't want to face. It was also Hermione. Hermione's idea of a friendship, it had turned out, was to bother Harry at the library when he was doing homework, and then get snippy with him if he tried to talk to her when she had a book. Plus, it was next to impossible to get her to stop talking to him once she had started. And he was never really even remotely interested in what she was saying. It was usually about some potion or Goblin Revolt that Harry couldn't have cared less about. He did enjoy her company, occasionally. If only it wasn't so constant and informational.
Harry's first few weeks at Hogwarts had allowed him to draw a few conclusions. First of all, always leave for class directly after the last, and at least five minutes before lunch was over, or you were bound to be late. The stairways and suits of armor liked to move around, and portraits were always in other frames, making it hard to navigate your way around the castle. Second, Snape was a git. He had served his detention with him last Friday. He had spent the evening decapitating earthworms and sterilizing wood lice. It had not been pleasant. Then Snape had assigned him a weeks worth of detention in class on Monday for not knowing the answer to a question, (though he had gotten the other five he was asked correctly), and because Snape had said that his common-cold cure potion was purple-ish maroon, not puce. Harry had bit his tongue hard at this comment, until his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. When they tested potions at the end of class, there were five blue, and two orange potions among them, and none of them had received detention. Harry's had managed to cure a field mouse of a bad cough, too. And the last thing Harry had learned was that Malfoy was intent on making life difficult for him. He had informed a tardy Professor Sprout that Harry had come in after the bell, forgetting to mention that he had been shooting sparks at Harry's toes along the way. He had been spreading rumors about Harry, too, among the other Houses, saying Harry said things about 'killing muggle-borns' in his sleep. While most students were intelligent enough to disregard this, Harry noticed many skirt quickly around corners, and double back when they saw him in the hallway they had been walking down. But still, Harry enjoyed being at Hogwarts more than anything else. He excelled in his classes, in general, namely Charms. He had been receiving top marks in class all year, despite Malfoy's attempts to burn his pillows and melt his candles, which he was casting his charm on. He was doing well in Transfiguration, easily his hardest class. He wasn't particularly gifted in this field of magic, but he studied hard, and was able to get through the class with fairly good marks. Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic had turned out to be a joke. He took notes in both, however much he wanted to sleep. He would read them later, and picture horrifying monsters or bloody revolutions in his head in order to be able to plow through the laborous reading. But he was failing Potions. He knew he was doing everything right. But Snape would always find something wrong with his and perfect about Mafloy's. Harry didn't really mind his grades to much. Everybody in his class knew he was doing it right, and he knew he was as well, and was learning everything he needed to.
Breakfast ended, and Harry headed off to the field outside in between the fourth and fifth corridors. "Now class" said a yellow-eyes witch with hair cut like a pixie. "I am Madame Hooch, and it is my job to teach you all how to fly. Not everyone is a natural flyer. Some people accel, for some people it takes work, and others spend their lives with both feet on the ground. But it is my job to sort you out, and get those of you flying who can. So, now, everyone step up to a broom."
Harry moved forward with the rest of the class to the two rows of broomsticks , and stood with one on either side. Next to him were Parvati Patil and Neville Longbottom. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. They weren't Slytherins, and he didn't think he'd look foolish next to them. He had a feeling neither of them would be a great flyer either.
"Now! Stick your hand over the broom to your right and say 'Up!'."
A chorus of 'ups' followed Madame Hooch's instructions. Harry looked around at the results before trying it with his own. Neville's lolled around uselessly. Parvati had managed to get hers to fly upwards, but had jumped backward with a shriek of surprise, falling backwards as she tripped over the hem of her robes.
But Malfoy's had flown straight into his hand, and he was smirking at everyone, sure that they all had seen.
'If he did it, then I can do it,' Harry thought. "Up!" he commanded his broom.
And it jumped obediently into his hand. Harry looked up and straight into Malfoy's face. He had been watching, and swapped his look of surprise for one of resent, eyeing Harry.
"Excellent, class!" said Madame Hooch, even though Harry noticed some people were chasing renegade broomsticks across the lawn. "Now, I want you all to mount your brooms. Now on the count of three, I'll blow my whistle, and you are all to hover upwards ten feet, and then float back to the ground understand?"
In agreement, the class each threw one leg over their broomstick, and gripped the handle as Madame Hooch showed them, Harry laughing inwardly as she corrected Malfoy's grip, who had been so cocky about flying all week. He was bragging to everyone about what a great flyer he was and telling stories, in which he was always flying around, nearly missing being spotted by muggles in planes and helicopters.
"On my whistle, then!" said Madame Hooch, when the class was ready. "One. Two. Thr---NO!"
Neville had panicked. He was now rising into the air. Five, fifteen, thirty feet. "Young man! Get back down here this instant! Wait--no, fly down!"
But it was too late. Neville, unable to control his broom, had be bounced off by his turbulent broomstick. He fell to the ground from nearly thirty feet up, and landed with a sickening crack. The class formed a circle around him. "Are you alright?" asked Lavender. But it was hard to hear her over the guffaws of nearby Slytherins. Harry threw them a malevolent look, and broke through the circle to Neville. "Neville, are you okay?" he asked, helping Neville sit up.
"Lad, come here!" cried Madame Hooch to Neville, having finally made her way toward Neville through the ring of students. She pushed Harry aside, and took a hold of Neville's wrist to help him to hiss feet. He let out a yelp of pain, and Madame Hooch let go. "Oh, tsk tsk, it's a broken wrist my dear."
She took him under the armpit and heaved him up. "I am taking Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing. You are all to remain on the ground. Understood? Or I'll have you expelled faster than you cn say 'quidditch'." ((**I love that line!**))
The class watched her and Neville fade into the distance, and then began chatting among themselves. But Malfoy, Harry noticed looked far too happy and pleased with himself for anything bad not to happen. And then Harry noticed something in his hand that had not been there before. "Malfoy, where did you get that?" asked Harry, indicating the small glass orb in Malfoy's hand.
The whole class had stopped talking, and was looking at Harry and Malfoy now. "What, this?" sneered Malfoy, tossing it from hand to hand.
"I know what that is!" shrieked Parvati angrily. "It's Neville's rememberall! You give it back, you bullying twerp!"
"And why should I?" snapped Malfoy.
"Now that's no way to speak to a lady," said Harry, with a steady, calm voice that caused Malfoy's anger to sound weak and trifling.
"I don't see a lady, Potter," sneered Malfoy. "All I see is a dirty little Mudblood lover!"
The crowd of Gryffindors suddenly tensed at the sound of the dirty curse word used agaisnst itches and wizards born of muggle parents.
"Give back the rememberall and apologize to her, Malfoy."
"Well, it's a good idea, but I have a better one. How but I leave the rememberall somewhere for Neville to find? Say, on top of the North Tower? And you can take that apology and shove where the sun don't shine, Potter."
And with that, Malfoy mounted his broom and flew off. Harry didn't even pause to think. Within a second he was on his own broom, and....flying. It was the most wonderful and natural feeling in the world. Harry relished it for a few moments. This was freedom. Then he turned to Malfoy, who couldn't hide his shocked expression. He had turned even paler than before, and was looking at Harry, confounded. Then, his face twitched back into it's usual sneer.
"Give it here, Malfoy," said Harry threateningly.
"You'll have to catch me first."
And Malfoy darted off, intricately weaving to throw Harry off his trail. But Harry stayed on his tail, Malfoy couldn't shake him.
Malfoy stopped and looked at Harry, not know what to do. "Give it, Malfoy, or I'll knock you off your broom!"
Harry darted forward with his broom, and Malfoy pulled out of the way just in time. Harry laughed. "Not so tough without your muscle up here to defend you, are you?"
Malfoy's expression confirmed what Harry had said, as his eyes darted back to the ground, looking hopefully at Crabbe and Goyle. But no help was coming.
"Fine, then, Potter. I'm bored with you. Catch."
And Harry saw everything as though in slow motion. Malfoy through the orb about five feet upward, and then flew away, back toward the ground. Harry's eyes followed the remeberall. And as it began to fall....Harry sped downward after it. He kept going faster and faster to catch up with the rememberall. The ground was coming closer all the while. Until at last, two feet from the ground, Harry felt his fingers slip around the ball, and he tumbled softly onto the grass, his broomstick in one hand, Neville's rememberall in the other.
Both Houses were quiet, contemplating which of them had just won, when an angry voice interrupted their contemplation.
"Potter!"
And all the while, the voice spoke in his head. His hissing voice, yelling orders at him, occasionally a hiss emitting from his mouth. "Faster! Faster!" the hiss called out to the pursuing creature. "Don't let him get away!"
Harry felt himself pulling into different directions, one half pulling him toward his follower, the other lunging aimlessly forward, winning out only by the will of brazen fear. Suddenly, Harry's two halves pulled together, and plunged through a doorway. "Perfect..." he hissed, as his mind screamed at him, 'NO! NO! Get out now!' But it was too late. The voice had full control over his body. The voice was him. And it was singing sweetly, walking forward towards the giant Cerberus, it's heads lolling, until it fell before him and began to snore. Harry's mind gasped as the voice-powered Harry looked down. Underneath the dog, there had been hidden a secret.....
"Harry!" said someone, poking Harry in the back. "Harry! It's almost lights out! We have to get back to the dormitory."
Harry picked his head off of the table. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim candle light of the room. Sean was standing above him, with a lantern in hand. I came looking for you after me and the gang got back to the common room, and you didn't show up for over an hour. It's only the first day, we knew you couldn't have that much homework! Anyway, come on. We got to get back soon or,"--the lights all around them extinguished except for the lantern in Sean's hand--"we'll be out past curfew. Oh great! Harry, we've got to move! And we had better do it quietly! Old Filch and Mrs. Norris will be patrolling the hallways now, looking to give detention to any students who are out of the common rooms. And you have enough detention to worry about already.
Harry fulled Sean out of the library, still groggy. It wasn't until they stood outside of their common room, and Sean was speaking that password, that something clicked in Harry's head. He hadn't told Sean he had detention with Snape. But as Sean pulled Harry through the door into the common room, and smled at him for a mission completed, Harry's suspicion subsided. Sean had probably guessed. Harry 's mood probably hadn't been to hard to read at lunch. They went into the boy's corridor, and parted way at their room. "'Night, Harry."
"G'night, Sean," yawned Harry.
He climbed into his bed, and pulled the covers up to his chin, and slept dreamlessly.
____________________________________________________________________________ __________
"Harry! I heard you have Flying Class today!" said Olga at breakfast some weeks later.
"Yeah," said Harry, less than enthusiastically. He wasn't looking forward to the experience. As much as he was sure he would enjoy flying, he wasn't thrilled about practicing on a broom for the first time in front of the Slytherins. The last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of himself on a broomstick in front of them. Even the voice couldn't tell him that he would do well. He was sure he was about to go fall on his face several times, if he could get high enough to do it.
It didn't help that the Gryffindors would be there. There was still blood-chilling animosity between the houses. Harry could tell that it was getting hold of Ron. He looked uncomfortable whenever Harry tried to talk to him, looking apologetically at Seamus and Dean. It's not tat he didn't seem to like Harry. He just seemed to think it would make him 'guilty by association' of the crime of being a piece of Slytherin scum.
But it wasn't just Ron that Harry didn't want to face. It was also Hermione. Hermione's idea of a friendship, it had turned out, was to bother Harry at the library when he was doing homework, and then get snippy with him if he tried to talk to her when she had a book. Plus, it was next to impossible to get her to stop talking to him once she had started. And he was never really even remotely interested in what she was saying. It was usually about some potion or Goblin Revolt that Harry couldn't have cared less about. He did enjoy her company, occasionally. If only it wasn't so constant and informational.
Harry's first few weeks at Hogwarts had allowed him to draw a few conclusions. First of all, always leave for class directly after the last, and at least five minutes before lunch was over, or you were bound to be late. The stairways and suits of armor liked to move around, and portraits were always in other frames, making it hard to navigate your way around the castle. Second, Snape was a git. He had served his detention with him last Friday. He had spent the evening decapitating earthworms and sterilizing wood lice. It had not been pleasant. Then Snape had assigned him a weeks worth of detention in class on Monday for not knowing the answer to a question, (though he had gotten the other five he was asked correctly), and because Snape had said that his common-cold cure potion was purple-ish maroon, not puce. Harry had bit his tongue hard at this comment, until his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. When they tested potions at the end of class, there were five blue, and two orange potions among them, and none of them had received detention. Harry's had managed to cure a field mouse of a bad cough, too. And the last thing Harry had learned was that Malfoy was intent on making life difficult for him. He had informed a tardy Professor Sprout that Harry had come in after the bell, forgetting to mention that he had been shooting sparks at Harry's toes along the way. He had been spreading rumors about Harry, too, among the other Houses, saying Harry said things about 'killing muggle-borns' in his sleep. While most students were intelligent enough to disregard this, Harry noticed many skirt quickly around corners, and double back when they saw him in the hallway they had been walking down. But still, Harry enjoyed being at Hogwarts more than anything else. He excelled in his classes, in general, namely Charms. He had been receiving top marks in class all year, despite Malfoy's attempts to burn his pillows and melt his candles, which he was casting his charm on. He was doing well in Transfiguration, easily his hardest class. He wasn't particularly gifted in this field of magic, but he studied hard, and was able to get through the class with fairly good marks. Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic had turned out to be a joke. He took notes in both, however much he wanted to sleep. He would read them later, and picture horrifying monsters or bloody revolutions in his head in order to be able to plow through the laborous reading. But he was failing Potions. He knew he was doing everything right. But Snape would always find something wrong with his and perfect about Mafloy's. Harry didn't really mind his grades to much. Everybody in his class knew he was doing it right, and he knew he was as well, and was learning everything he needed to.
Breakfast ended, and Harry headed off to the field outside in between the fourth and fifth corridors. "Now class" said a yellow-eyes witch with hair cut like a pixie. "I am Madame Hooch, and it is my job to teach you all how to fly. Not everyone is a natural flyer. Some people accel, for some people it takes work, and others spend their lives with both feet on the ground. But it is my job to sort you out, and get those of you flying who can. So, now, everyone step up to a broom."
Harry moved forward with the rest of the class to the two rows of broomsticks , and stood with one on either side. Next to him were Parvati Patil and Neville Longbottom. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. They weren't Slytherins, and he didn't think he'd look foolish next to them. He had a feeling neither of them would be a great flyer either.
"Now! Stick your hand over the broom to your right and say 'Up!'."
A chorus of 'ups' followed Madame Hooch's instructions. Harry looked around at the results before trying it with his own. Neville's lolled around uselessly. Parvati had managed to get hers to fly upwards, but had jumped backward with a shriek of surprise, falling backwards as she tripped over the hem of her robes.
But Malfoy's had flown straight into his hand, and he was smirking at everyone, sure that they all had seen.
'If he did it, then I can do it,' Harry thought. "Up!" he commanded his broom.
And it jumped obediently into his hand. Harry looked up and straight into Malfoy's face. He had been watching, and swapped his look of surprise for one of resent, eyeing Harry.
"Excellent, class!" said Madame Hooch, even though Harry noticed some people were chasing renegade broomsticks across the lawn. "Now, I want you all to mount your brooms. Now on the count of three, I'll blow my whistle, and you are all to hover upwards ten feet, and then float back to the ground understand?"
In agreement, the class each threw one leg over their broomstick, and gripped the handle as Madame Hooch showed them, Harry laughing inwardly as she corrected Malfoy's grip, who had been so cocky about flying all week. He was bragging to everyone about what a great flyer he was and telling stories, in which he was always flying around, nearly missing being spotted by muggles in planes and helicopters.
"On my whistle, then!" said Madame Hooch, when the class was ready. "One. Two. Thr---NO!"
Neville had panicked. He was now rising into the air. Five, fifteen, thirty feet. "Young man! Get back down here this instant! Wait--no, fly down!"
But it was too late. Neville, unable to control his broom, had be bounced off by his turbulent broomstick. He fell to the ground from nearly thirty feet up, and landed with a sickening crack. The class formed a circle around him. "Are you alright?" asked Lavender. But it was hard to hear her over the guffaws of nearby Slytherins. Harry threw them a malevolent look, and broke through the circle to Neville. "Neville, are you okay?" he asked, helping Neville sit up.
"Lad, come here!" cried Madame Hooch to Neville, having finally made her way toward Neville through the ring of students. She pushed Harry aside, and took a hold of Neville's wrist to help him to hiss feet. He let out a yelp of pain, and Madame Hooch let go. "Oh, tsk tsk, it's a broken wrist my dear."
She took him under the armpit and heaved him up. "I am taking Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing. You are all to remain on the ground. Understood? Or I'll have you expelled faster than you cn say 'quidditch'." ((**I love that line!**))
The class watched her and Neville fade into the distance, and then began chatting among themselves. But Malfoy, Harry noticed looked far too happy and pleased with himself for anything bad not to happen. And then Harry noticed something in his hand that had not been there before. "Malfoy, where did you get that?" asked Harry, indicating the small glass orb in Malfoy's hand.
The whole class had stopped talking, and was looking at Harry and Malfoy now. "What, this?" sneered Malfoy, tossing it from hand to hand.
"I know what that is!" shrieked Parvati angrily. "It's Neville's rememberall! You give it back, you bullying twerp!"
"And why should I?" snapped Malfoy.
"Now that's no way to speak to a lady," said Harry, with a steady, calm voice that caused Malfoy's anger to sound weak and trifling.
"I don't see a lady, Potter," sneered Malfoy. "All I see is a dirty little Mudblood lover!"
The crowd of Gryffindors suddenly tensed at the sound of the dirty curse word used agaisnst itches and wizards born of muggle parents.
"Give back the rememberall and apologize to her, Malfoy."
"Well, it's a good idea, but I have a better one. How but I leave the rememberall somewhere for Neville to find? Say, on top of the North Tower? And you can take that apology and shove where the sun don't shine, Potter."
And with that, Malfoy mounted his broom and flew off. Harry didn't even pause to think. Within a second he was on his own broom, and....flying. It was the most wonderful and natural feeling in the world. Harry relished it for a few moments. This was freedom. Then he turned to Malfoy, who couldn't hide his shocked expression. He had turned even paler than before, and was looking at Harry, confounded. Then, his face twitched back into it's usual sneer.
"Give it here, Malfoy," said Harry threateningly.
"You'll have to catch me first."
And Malfoy darted off, intricately weaving to throw Harry off his trail. But Harry stayed on his tail, Malfoy couldn't shake him.
Malfoy stopped and looked at Harry, not know what to do. "Give it, Malfoy, or I'll knock you off your broom!"
Harry darted forward with his broom, and Malfoy pulled out of the way just in time. Harry laughed. "Not so tough without your muscle up here to defend you, are you?"
Malfoy's expression confirmed what Harry had said, as his eyes darted back to the ground, looking hopefully at Crabbe and Goyle. But no help was coming.
"Fine, then, Potter. I'm bored with you. Catch."
And Harry saw everything as though in slow motion. Malfoy through the orb about five feet upward, and then flew away, back toward the ground. Harry's eyes followed the remeberall. And as it began to fall....Harry sped downward after it. He kept going faster and faster to catch up with the rememberall. The ground was coming closer all the while. Until at last, two feet from the ground, Harry felt his fingers slip around the ball, and he tumbled softly onto the grass, his broomstick in one hand, Neville's rememberall in the other.
Both Houses were quiet, contemplating which of them had just won, when an angry voice interrupted their contemplation.
"Potter!"