Chapter 7: The First Altercation
It was Monday again. Harry shrugged, and tried to think of a plan for how he was going to spend two hours a week with 'the kid'. It could get old very quickly if they were just studying together in silence. He didn't think they could escape McGonagall much longer, and Hermione's pestering was getting more than he could bear. Harry didn't even know the first thing about how to approach Luke, and schedule some time together for this week. Sighing, he decided that he would just go with the flow, and follow Hermione's lead as to what she was doing with her first year. Frowning at the more than likely possibility that he would be spending an additional two hours in the library the first week of term, his mood was looking down every second. As Harry folded up the letter and put it in his pocket, there was a bright flash of fiery emerald light in front of him- his phoenix had just appeared, sending many loud 'oohs' and 'aahs' through the Great Hall.
Harry smiled- nameless as his new pet might be, the sight of her comforted him all the same. Sounding a small trill, the bird perched herself on Harry's shoulder and nuzzled his cheek affectionately. As the mail arrived, Hedwig dropped the customary note from Hagrid in front of Harry, requesting that he, Hermione, Ron and (if she were so inclined) Ginny spend the first weekend tea at his hut. Harry began rustling through his bag to find a quill for his scrawled reply, and was desisted by his phoenix nudging him with her beak. Looking up, he saw that she had one of her tail feathers in her claws, and was requesting that Harry use it for a quill. Smiling, he took it from her and quickly let his giant friend know that he and three others would be joining him for tea on Saturday afternoon. After giving Hedwig some of his bacon and a deep drink from his orange juice, she and his phoenix flew off together out the open window.
"Wow, Harry!" cried Colin Creevey. "That's some bird!"
Harry could only smile. "She sure is."
"What's her name?"
Harry blushed. "Well, I'm still working on that, Colin."
Looking down, he noticed that he still had the Phoenix feather quill in his hand. Suddenly an idea popped into his head, and he rose from the table. Crossing the dining hall to the other side, dodging between students that were heading to class early, he approached the half empty Slytherin table.
"Hey, Luke!" he called, softly, not wanting to attract the attention of the older house members.
The young blonde haired boy turned in his seat, and glanced at his Mentor.
"What?" he asked, indifferently.
"Here," Harry offered, holding out the phoenix feather towards him. "My bird just gave it to me, and I'd like you to have it."
He paused awkwardly, reddening, noticing that Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and the usual crowd were all staring at him now. Luke seemed surprised and taken aback, yet he took the quill all the same.
"Why are you giving it to me?" he asked incredulously, almost in awe. Then, his eyebrows narrowed with suspicion, and after a brief glance around the table, as if to make sure they were all watching his "Slytherin-ish Behavior", he added accusingly, "Did you hex it?"
Harry felt his face begin to flush.
"No. Why would I do that? I don't even know you enough for you to give me a reason to hex something I give you. Although, that could change," he grinned maliciously, "it all depends on you, kid."
After a pause, he shrugged his shoulders and added, "Besides- I'm your mentor- at least so I'm told. I'm supposed to watch out for you. And if you walk into Snape's class without a proper quill, Slytherin house or not, he'll give you detention. And how would I look if my Mentee got detention the first week of term?"
Luke smiled lopsidedly, and carefully put the quill in his bag. Harry gave him a nod, and turned away to head back to the Gryffindor table (noticing large, approving grins from both Ginny and Hermione) to grab his bag before heading to Transfiguration. Behind him, he could still hear the Slytherin first years ogling over his gift to Luke.
"Wish Harry Potter was MY mentor!" he heard one of the girls sigh softly.
"Yeah, Luke! That's the best quill I've ever seen, and my uncle collects!" said another.
Suddenly, Harry felt a tug on his robes. Turning and looking down, he saw Luke not returning his gaze, and scuffling his feet on the floor.
"Um, thanks. Thanks a lot, Harry."
Harry smiled, even though the boy refused to look him in the eye. "No problem, Luke. I'm glad you like it."
And to his surprise, Luke actually looked up, and smiled at him, before he scampered off back to his friends at the table. Harry's mood brightened considerably as he walked whistling down the corridor to McGonagall's NEWT Transfiguration class.
The next week passed by like someone had purposely sped up time, and before Harry knew it, it was the fourth Friday of term, nearly October, and yet still no official announcement from Dumbledore had been made letting them know what the deal was with Quidditch.
"Wish he'd get on with it, really," muttered Ron to him confidentially one morning at breakfast.
"You're telling me," groaned Harry. "It was bad enough having to wait and see if my ban had been lifted, but now not to know if we can even play at all?"
"Come on, guys," pleaded Hermione, "we're going to be late!"
Sighing collectively, Harry and Ron grabbed their bags and left the Great Hall. As he walked down to the dungeons, Harry reflected that so far term was going quite well. He had spent his weekly two-hour session with Luke already, and although the kid was still quite "Slytherin-ish" in his mannerisms, he at least was civil toward Harry and Hermione during their study session in the library, and smiled quite politely when Hermione complimented him on his knowledge about bezoars. Harry found that Luke was quite smart and didn't need help in much of his homework, nor did Maddelein Roseworth, Hermione's partner.
Entering the potions classroom alone, Harry sighed. Hermione had needed to nip into the toilette, and so Ron (the ever courteous boyfriend) had waited for her, leaving Harry to go on ahead. As Harry settled in for his last lesson of the week ("Bloody Hell, POTIONS as our last lesson?" cried an outraged Ron, upon reading his schedule for the first time. "What a way to end the week!"), he prayed that the cold silence between him and his partner would last through one more class. Harry set up his cauldron and ingredients for the day's lesson when Malfoy came sauntering into the room.
"So, Potter," he sneered, after plopping down his bag, "thought you could buy Luke off last week with that quill, did you?"
Harry turned to him with a steely gaze. "No, Ferret, unlike you, I don't try to buy people's friendship. I just thought it would be a nice thing to do. I'm sure if you were nice to your Mentee she would be to you. Luke may be a prime Slytherin example, but he's civil with me because I was nice to him from the start. I didn't just stereotype him, like you do to everyone."
"What are you even talking about, Potter? Be nice to my first year midget?" drawled Malfoy, carelessly tossing his bag onto the desk. "I won't have anything to do with that Mudblood and I told the Headmaster so."
Harry turned to him, and after carefully picking up the shoulder strap of Malfoy's bag and placing it on the Slytherin's 'side' of the desk, he replied scathingly, "You don't even know her, Malfoy. How can you even be sure she's a… well, that she's not got wizard blood?"
"How thick could you be, Potter? Anyone with proper wizarding pride would be able to tell a Mudblood when they see one. Come to think of it, anyone with pride at ALL would know about their own family's history, too."
Harry could feel his temper flaring, along with the eyes of his classmates burning into the back of his head. It had been taking all of his self-control and repeated pillow-pummeling sessions late at night with Ron to keep him from assaulting Malfoy in the manner that he fully deserved.
Malfoy paused dramatically, raising a hand to his mouth, and gave a very fake, audible gasp.
"Oh, but that's right." he continued, in his fake, simpering drawl. "You don't HAVE a family, do you Potter? Not unless you call that heap of blood-traitoring rubbish the Weasleys a family. But if you like spending holidays in a bin, then, far be it for me to understand the famous Gryffindor Poster Boy's intellect."
"Lay off, Malfoy," Harry warned.
"Oh, you don't like me talking about the Weasel, do you, Potter? I take it the Mudblood's off limits then, too," taunted Draco. "Let's talk about your parents, then, shall we?"
"I'm warning you, Malfoy. Shut your sodding mouth!"
But Draco pressed forward, as if Harry had never spoken.
"Oh, yes. The arrogant Potter and his Mudblood, MUGGLE-BORN wife are what YOU had for parents. I suppose even Weasley's dumpy mum would be an improvement after that slag. But your parents- they went and got themselves killed by the Dark Lord didn't they? Didn't know what was god for them did they—"
Harry was fuming; his hair was beginning to unnaturally stand on end- even for his standards. He could feel his skin begin to tighten unnaturally as pure magic swelled and coursed its way through his veins.
"Uh-oh," Ernie MacMillan cringed to Justin Finch-Fletchly, upon feeling the magical charge reach their desk.
"Malfoy better shut his mouth if he knows what's good for him," Justin groaned. "Nothing good came out of him insulting Harry and Ron's mums last year at the Quidditch match."
"—Your parents were the sodding stupidest witch and wizard alive." Draco was still going strong, too far deep into his own rage to feel the fury dangerously radiating off Harry.
"Oh- but wait. They're not alive any more, are they Scarhead?" Draco laughed maliciously. "They're dead. Just dropped off the official parchment of the wizarding world, didn't they, Potter? Just like Diggory. Just like your precious Godfather. Snuffed it. All of them. Just like everyone close to you will sooner or later. Just like you're going to do after the Dark Lord gets through with you."
Harry could feel his anger boiling, ready to overflow. He began his breathing techniques in attempts to calm himself.
"Stop it. Right now, Malfoy."
"What's the matter, Potter? Scared? Are you afraid of the Dark Lord? Are you just as stupid as your parents were, Harry? Too stupid to protect themselves? Too stupid to know who to trust? Too stupid to know that Dumbledore would fail them, just like he's failing you right now?"
"I said shut UP Malfoy!" Harry screamed, magic pulsing, eyes blackening with rage. It was taking everything he had not to pulverize Malfoy within an inch of his life, and he didn't think he could hold out much longer.
"You're going to meet the same sticky fucking end your precious parents did, Potter, and by Merlin, I hope I'm there—"
THUD.
Harry tackled Malfoy to the ground, scattering all the desks and potion ingredients in their immediate vicinity. Punching the blonde squarely across the jaw, Harry put every ounce of force he had into the hit. Grabbing Malfoy by the shoulders, Harry lifted him up before he lay into him again- this time across the center of his face. The girls of the class screamed as Malfoy's nose broke, splattering blood in a five-foot radius.
"You think it's funny, don't you?" Harry screamed, positively spitting with rage. "HUH? You think it's funny that I had to be raised in a cupboard by Muggles? You do, don't you, you worthless sack of Death Eater shit?"
Malfoy struggled, but Harry wasn't holding back. He'd had enough. Tired of Malfoy's snide comments that had been whispered in his ear over the past five weeks- over the past five years- Harry forgot everything about the consequences Snape had warned him about. He was going to finally give Malfoy the beating he deserved. Harry was far too occupied, but Justin Finch-Fletchly noticed that no one in the room was making any move to stop the raven-haired boy from pulverizing Malfoy's face into mush. Either they were too afraid, or they thought Malfoy deserved every punch that he was being delivered. Justin personally would have helped Harry had he needed it.
Harry was laying into every hit, as if releasing every frustration he'd had since he was old enough to walk. Straddling Malfoy on the floor, it was as if Harry had completely forgotten the last five years of magical training he received and just punched Draco with all the force he could muster, ignoring the screams of the girls in the room that were begging him to stop.
"You won't think it's funny when the Dark Lord starts picking off your family one by one!" he screamed, grabbing Draco by the cloak and shaking him vigorously. "I'd rather have NO family than a fucking Death Eater father and Voldemort arse-kissing mother like yours! He doesn't care who he hurts- don't you realize that? He'd kill every single one of his Death Shitters if he found it beneficial!"
CRACK
Draco had finally gotten a hold of his wand and used it to blast Harry across the room, where he landed on top of Daphne and Pansy. The last comment about how the Dark Lord 'didn't care who he tortured' as long as he became more powerful, and how Harry didn't think Malfoy would find it 'funny' when the Dark Lord started picking off his family one by one cut him deeper than any punch the raven-haired boy had thrown. He'd had enough of Pretty-Boy-Potter, the Boy-With-Too-Many-Morals.
"You don't know FUCK about my family, Potter!" Draco screamed, shoving Theodore Nott, who had begun trying to restrain him, away.
Pulling himself up off of Pansy and Daphne, with no regard as to what body parts he pressed on to elevate himself, Harry began throwing hexes so fast at Malfoy that many other members of the class had to dive out of the way or risk being hit, which many of them were anyway. Snape hadn't even entered the classroom yet, it was so early, and so the battle raged on.
Desks, jars of animal limbs, chairs, hexes and curses were thrown one after another, and while some of Harry's had made contact, Malfoy still seemed no worse for the wear than when they had started dueling in the wizard style and stopped beating each other senseless in the Muggle way. It was undeniable- he was an exceptional dueler to have made it this far with Harry in the rage that he was.
"EXPELLIARMUS!" cried two voices from the doorway, and Harry's, along with Malfoy's wand went flying into two separate hands.
Professor Snape was visibly smoking from the ears, he was so angry, and he clutched Harry's wand so firmly in his hand that the boy feared it would crack. Hermione just stood in the doorway right behind him with Ron- they had come later to class behind Harry- with Malfoy's wand in her hand, the books she had been carrying tumbled, as if in slow motion, to the floor.
Upon the loss of their wands, Harry and Draco paused, but only for the briefest second, before they both jumped over what was left of the potions classroom and began to tackle each other once again in the Muggle fashion.
"Draco, NO!" cried Pansy, from behind a bloody nose. She had been hit by a stray hex- from which boy's wand, she didn't know.
She, Hermione and Theodore Nott jumped forward to pull the two boys apart, and had successfully grabbed Draco. Ron, Justin Finch-Fletchly and Ernie MacMillan together were having quite a hard time restraining Harry from pummeling the already bleeding Slytherin within an inch of his life for the crude remarks he had made about Harry's parents.
Snape, it appeared, could say nothing. He left the six students to restrain Harry and Draco and crossed the entire dungeon floor in three strides. Snape was radiating with fury. His office door flew open with a loud BANG, and he tossed a fistful of floo powder into the fire.
"DUMBLEDORE! Get down here, NOW!"
There was a flash of bright red flames, and Albus Dumbledore appeared in the middle of the room, holding on to a fistful of Fawkes' feathers, staring at the door where Severus Snape was now standing, arms folded, absolutely shaking with rage.
"What is it, Severus?" the Headmaster asked, his wand raised, Fawkes now circling over his head.
"Turn around, Headmaster. See for yourself," Snape gestured impatiently toward Harry and Malfoy, who were still adamantly trying to get at one another.
"Let me GO, Pansy! I'm going to KILL that son of a Mudblood slag!" cried Draco, attempting to break away from the grips of Hermione, Pansy and Theodore.
"Not funny… kill him… my mum and dad… Sirius… DARE he!" Harry was stuttering, his green eyes ablaze, and ruby sparks were spouting from every lock of his hair and each of his ten fingers. The rest of the class just stared, and some of the girls were crying. They had never seen someone (especially Harry Potter!) so angry, and it was positively frightening.
It took every ounce of courage and strength for Ron, Justin and Ernie to hold Harry back- his magic had nearly thrown them off a half dozen times already, and there was no telling when Harry would explode. Ron knew from experience that Harry was on the very edge- even more than he had been the previous summer in the drawing room- and understood that Malfoy's very life- no matter how vile and worthless- may have depended on him restraining his friend.
Dumbledore stood, and absorbed the situation quite rapidly.
"Oh dear," he muttered, sighing.
Snape swept up to his side. "What are you going to do about this, Headmaster? I told you what happened the last time, did I not?"
Albus nodded, "I couldn't agree more, Severus. I'm sorry to say, though, that you will find it quite difficult to continue with you remaining lesson, as nearly all your students should head up to see Madam Pomfrey immediately for medical attention."
"No, Headmaster. I must insist that those that are able to stay do so- we are beginning the Polyjuice Potion today, and it is most crucial they sit the lesson if they are at all fit."
"Understood, Severus."
Turning to the students, he added, "Well, you heard your Professor. If you need to see the nurse, please do so. If you are able to return to the lesson, it is recommended you do so."
"Exemplarus Rightus," muttered the Headmaster, and he waved his wand in a complex pattern. The classroom immediately righted itself to its normal state of orderliness.
Fixing his eyes on Harry and Draco, the Headmaster's eyes turned cold. Many of the people in the room shivered, as his stare immediately smoldered the fire that Harry seemed to have lit inside all of them.
"Mr. Malfoy, you will head to the hospital wing with your classmates. You will be contacted about your detention later this evening. Mr. Potter, you will come with me."
Upon the word of the Headmaster, those that had been holding Harry and Draco down released them. With a final glare at one another, they departed- Draco to the hospital wing, and Harry to the Headmaster's office, but not before he turned to Pansy and offered her the Nosebleeding Nougat antidote he had in his pocket. She accepted it, and gazed at him curiously, blue eyes wide with wonder.
"Well," Snape glowered, "those that remain- to your seats. Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, Miss Parkinson and Mr. Nott, you will please remain behind after class. Mr. MacMillan and Mr. Finch-Fletchly, although your restraints upon Mr. Potter are greatly appreciated, as they prevented any further damage to my classroom, you need not remain behind."
A moment's pause, and then-
"…The Polyjuice Potion is on the board. Please begin."