Chapter 14 - Murmurs
Harry, Lewis, Ron, and Rob, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier than he would have liked by Oliver Wood,
captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
"Whassamatter?" said Harry groggily.
"Oli what are you doing? What time is it?" Asked Lewis.
"Quidditch practice!" said Wood. "Seems like half my team is sleeping here in this room."
There was a thin mist hanging across the pink and gold sky.
Now he was awake, he couldn't understand how he could have slept through the racket the birds were making.
"Oli it is sleep time and this is where my two husbands are supposed to be and that where my twin is." Said Lewis.
"Oliver," Harry croaked, "It's the crack of dawn."
"Is he wanting to kill us on brooms?" Asked Lewis.
"Exactly," said Wood. He was a tall and burly sixth-year and,
at the moment, his eyes were gleaming with a mad enthusiasm. "It's part of our new training program. Come on, grab your broom and let's go," Said Wood heartily. "None of the other teams have started training yet, we're going to be first off the mark this year…"
"So, you going be the first caption off the line," Said Lewis,
"To kill your team mates? Wood think you're out voted.
Can we wait for the sun to get up."
"No, up and get dressed," Said Wood.
"Wood, you know we love you, great caption," Said Lewis.
"Think you," Added Wood.
"But give us one hour," Said Lewis. "I don't want to fall off my broom, and never do you. I promises Wood one hour."
One hour latter the five of them yawning and shivering slightly,
climbed out of bed and tried to find his Quidditch robes.
They where walking out to the pitch with their robs and brooms, they walked into the dressing room.
"Wood I said I have my boys out in one hour and here we are as promised, even dressed." Said Lewis. "Unless you like seeing our bums, which I understand, my boys have nice bums."
"Good man," said Wood. "My team here as promised."
"Almost made them show in there undies," Said Lewis.
"You would have," Said Oli.
"Told you I like the view, yes I would have." Said Lewis.
The team was waiting on Wood.
Wood was holding up a large diagram of a Quidditch pitch,
on which were drawn many lines, arrows and crosses in different-colored inks. He took out his wand, tapped the board and the arrows began to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. As Wood launched into a speech about his new tactics, Fred Weasley's head drooped right onto Lewis's shoulder and he began to snore.
The first board took nearly twenty minutes to explain,
but there was another board under that, and a third under that one. Harry sank into a stupor as Wood droned on and on.
"So," said Wood, at long last, Lewis woke his boys.
"Is that clear? Any questions?" Asked Wood.
"I've got a question, Oliver," said George, who had woken with a start. "Why couldn't you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?"
"Be glad I put my foot down, and this was not an hour ago."
Said Lewis. "Be glad it is not earlier." Wood wasn't pleased.
"Now, listen here, you lot,' he said, glowering at them all,
"We should have won the Quidditch Cup last year. We're easily the best team. But unfortunately, owing to circumstances beyond our control …"
"Wood, I did not go and fight Voldemort on purpose."
Said Lewis, "And get put in the hospital wing, just to make us lose, do you. I like to win Wood, I do."
"I did not mean that," Said Wood.
"We will win this year," Said Lewis.
"So, no crazy missions." Said Wood.
"Will try," Said Lewis, "But also got a backup player this year.
Remember we also won the house cup last year."
"I know we won the house cup last year." Said Wood.
Lewis had been unconscious in the hospital wing for the final match of the previous year, meaning that Gryffindor had been a player short and had suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years.
Wood took a moment to regain control of himself. Their last defeat was clearly still torturing him.
"So, this year, we train harder than ever before … OK, let's go and put our new theories into practice!" Wood shouted,
seizing his broomstick and leading the way out of the changing rooms. Stiff-legged and still yawning, his team followed.
They had been in the changing room so long that the sun was up properly now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. As they walked onto the pitch.
He mounted his broomstick and kicked at the ground,
soaring up into the air. The cool morning air whipped his face, waking them far more effectively than Wood's long talk.
It felt wonderful to be back on the Quidditch pitch. He soared
right around the stadium at full speed, racing Fred and George.
'What's that funny clicking noise?' called Fred, as they hurtled around the corner.
Harry looked into the stands. Colin was sitting in one of the highest seats, his camera raised, taking picture after picture, the sound strangely magnified in the deserted stadium.
"Look this way, Harry! Lewis! This way!" Colin cried shrilly.
"Who's that?" said Fred.
"What's going on?" said Wood, frowning, as he skimmed through the air towards them. "Why's that first-year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."
Lewis flow over to Colin, "Colin, sweety. Calm down and enjoy.
We want run you off." Said Lewis, "Your one of us, be a lion."
"I am one of you guys?" Asked Colin.
"I was at your sorting. You are a lion. Your one of us." Said Lewis.
"Be bold, be happy, we are not letting go of you."
"He's one of us Oli." Said Lewis.
"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," said George.
"What makes you say that?" said Wood testily.
"Because they're here in person," said George, pointing.
Several people in green robes were walking onto the pitch, broomsticks in their hands.
"I don't believe it!" Wood hissed in outrage. "I booked the pitch for today! We'll see about this!"
Wood shot towards the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted.
The lions followed.
"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"
Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollism cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."
"Marcus, leave." Said Lewis. "We have the pitch already."
"Ah," said Flint, "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need to train their new Seeker."
"You've got a new Seeker?" Said Wood, distracted. "Where?"
"He got Draco and his 2001s, don't think they know, Lord Slytherin already got the Lions 2001s to." Said Lewis.
"Lord Slytherin bough the Lions brooms?" Asked Marcus.
"Yes, he did." Said Lewis.
"Lewis, did Lord Slytherin really buy us brooms?" Asked Wood.
"Yes, I did." Said Lewis.
And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face.
It was Draco Malfoy.
"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike.
"Yes, he is. He also a Black, and Lord Black is not happy either,
Draco. Buying your way onto the Team snake." Said Lewis.
"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint,
as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly.
"Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team." All seven of them held out their broomsticks.
Seven highly polished, brand new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words 'Nimbus Two Thousand and One' gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early-morning sun. "Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own.
"I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweep,' he smiled nastily at Fred and George, then he realized the Lions had 2001s to. "Where did you get 2001s?"
"Lord Black, Lord Slytherin, Lord Potter is a supporter of Team Lion, seeing how he is the current speaker." Said Lewis.
"Also, he now owns the company."
"What's happening?" Ron asked. "Why aren't we playing? And what's he doing here?" He was looking at Malfoy, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes.
"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley,' said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."
"They got matching brooms to ours, they must have been jealous," Said Lewis. "And yes, Draco. They are good, aren't they?" Said Lewis.
"But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives, I expect a museum would bid for them."
The Slytherin team howled with laughter.
Lewis walked up to Flint, "Lord Slytherin and Black is ordering you to clean your team. Don't think Draco is where you need to go. Play with honor. Leave the lions be."
"Guys let go." Said Flint. The snakes walked off following Flint.
Hagrid appeared at once, looking very grumpy, but his expression brightened when he saw who it was.
'Bin wondering' when you'd come to see me – come in, come in – thought you might have been Professor Lockhart back again.'
Hagrid was bustling around, making them tea. His boarhound, Fang, was slobbering over the twins.
'What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?' Harry asked, scratching Fang's ears.
'Givin' me advice on gettin' kelpies out of a well,' growled Hagrid, moving a half-plucked rooster off his scrubbed table and setting down the teapot. 'Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some Banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle.' It was most unlike Hagrid to criticise a Hogwarts teacher and Harry looked at him in surprise.
"How did Lockheart even get the job?" Asked Lewis.
'He was the on'y man for the job,' said Hagrid, offering them a plate of treacle toffee, while Ron coughed squelchily into his basin. 'An' I mean the on'y one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now." said Hagrid.
'Twins,' said Hagrid suddenly, as though struck by a sudden thought, 'gotta bone ter pick with yeh. I've heard you've bin givin' out signed photos. How come I haven't got one?'
Furious, Harry wrenched his teeth apart.
"I have not been giving out signed photos," he said hotly.
"If Lockhart's still putting that about."
But then he saw that Hagrid was laughing and Lewis quite.
"Told you he fall for that." Said Lewis.
"I'm on'y jokin',' he said, patting Harry genially on the back and sending him, face first, into the table. 'I knew yeh hadn't really. I told Lockhart yeh didn' need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin'.'
"Bet he didn't like that,' said Harry.
"Don' think he did," said Hagrid, his eyes twinkling. "An' then I told him I'd never read one o' his books an' he decided to go."
"Don't waste you time on his books," Said Lewis. "Read them,
fell like part of my brain has rot now."
"Come and see what I've been growing," said Hagrid.
In the small vegetable patch behind Hagrid's house were a dozen of the largest pumpkins the twins had ever seen.
Each was the size of a large boulder.
"Getting on well, aren't they?" Said Hagrid happily.
"For the Hallowe'en feast should be big enough by then."
"What've you been feeding them?" Asked Harry.
"Not sure, but there bigger than us," Said Lewis.
Hagrid looked over his shoulder to check that they were alone.
"Well, I've been giving them – you know – a bit o' help."
Harry noticed Hagrid's flowery pink umbrella leaning against the back wall of the cabin. Harry had had reason to believe before now that this umbrella was not all it looked; in fact, he had the strong impression that Hagrid's old school wand was concealed inside it. Hagrid wasn't supposed to use magic.
"Did you make use of your pink pixie steak?" Asked Lewis.
"Candy?" Asked Hagrid.
"You know your old school one?" Asked Lewis.
They had barely set foot in the cool Entrance Hall when a voice rang out. "There you are, Lewis Potter and Ron Weasley." Professor McGonagall was walking towards them, looking stern.
"You will both do your detentions this evening."
"What are we doing, Professor?" Asked Ron.
"You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with
Mr. Filch," said Professor McGonagall. "And no magic, Weasley – elbow grease."
Ron gulped. Argus Filch, the caretaker, was loathed by every student in the school.
"And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail," said Professor McGonagall.
"Anything but that." Said Lewis.
"Certainly not," said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. "Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o'clock sharp, both of you."
Lewis and Ron slouched into the Great Hall in states of deepest gloom, wearing a well-you-did-break-school-rules sort of expression. Lewis didn't fancy his shepherd's pie as much as he'd thought. Both he and Ron felt they'd got the worse deal.
"Filch will have me there all night," said Ron heavily. "No magic! There must be about a hundred cups in that room. I'm no good at Muggle cleaning."
"At lest Filch won't be felling you up, I will be hurting this Lockheart creep." Said Lewis.
Lewis was dragging his feet along the second-floor corridor to Lockhart's office. He gritted his teeth and knocked.
The door flew open at once. Lockhart beamed down at him.
"Ah, here's the scallywag!" he said. "Come in, Lewis, come in."
"Before I do, do not touch me." Said Lewis, then he came in and sat down, looking around.
Shining brightly on the walls by the light of many candles were countless framed photographs of Lockhart. He had even signed a few of them. Another large pile lay on his desk.
"You can address the envelopes!" Lockhart told Harry,
as though this was a huge treat.
"This first ones to Gladys Gudgeon, bless her – huge fan of mine." The minutes crawled by. Lewis let Lockhart's voice wash over him, occasionally saying, 'Mmm' and 'Right' and 'Yeah'.
Now and then he caught a phrase like 'Fame's a fickle friend, Lewis' or 'Celebrity is as celebrity does, remember that'.
The candles burned lower and lower, making the light dance over the many moving faces of Lockhart watching him.
Lewis moved his aching hand over what felt like the thousandth envelope, writing out Veronica Smethley's address. It must be nearly time to leave, Lewis thought miserably, please let it be nearly time. And then he heard something – something quite apart from the spitting of the dying candles and Lockhart's prattle about his fans.
It was a voice, a voice to chill the bone-marrow, a voice of breath-taking, ice-cold venom.
'Come … come to me … let me rip you … let me tear you … let me kill you …' Lewis gave a huge jump and a large lilac blot appeared on Veronica Smethley's street.
"What?" he said loudly.
"I know!" said Lockhart. "Six solid months at the top of the bestseller list! Broke all records!"
"What was that?" Asked Lewis. "That voice!"
"Sorry." Said Lockhart, looking puzzled. "What voice?"
"That – that voice that said – didn't you hear it?" Asked Lewis.
Lockhart was looking at Lewis in high astonishment.
"What are you talking about, Lewis? Perhaps you're getting a little drowsy? Great Scott – look at the time! We've been here nearly four hours! I'd never have believed it – the time's flown, hasn't it?" Lewis didn't answer. He was straining his ears to hear the voice again, but there was no sound now except for Lockhart telling him he mustn't expect a treat like this every time he got detention. Feeling dazed, Lewis left.
Lewis was sitting in the window seat, then Harry walked in,
"Harry, you been hearing this voice in the walls?" Asked Lewis.
"Yes," Said Harry.
"We must figure out what it is." Said Lewis.
Ron wasn't back yet. The twins got changed into pajamas,
then Rob showed up and changed to and got into bed and waited. Half an hour later, Ron arrived, nursing his right arm and bringing a strong smell of polish into the darkened room.
"My muscles have all seized up," he groaned, sinking on his bed. "Fourteen times he made me buff up that Quidditch Cup before he was satisfied. And then I had another slug attack all over a Special Award for Services to the School. Took ages
to shift the slime … How was it with Lockhart?"
Keeping his voice low so as not to wake Neville, Dean and Seamus, the twins told Ron and Rob exactly what he had heard.
"And Lockhart said he couldn't hear it?" said Ron.
The twins could see him frowning in the moonlight.
"D'you think he was lying? But I don't get it – even someone invisible would've had to open the door." Said Lewis.
"I know," said Harry, lying back in his four-poster and staring at the canopy above him. "I don't get it, either."
"There is the possibility he could not hear it." Said Lewis.
"I got a theory, but it can't be."
"What is it?" Asked Rob.
"Huge snake." Said Lewis. "Night."
