FwooshEye: Well, think about this. In Second Year, Harry saw Fawkes die. He also saw the Basilisk die. And Voldemort's diary kind of died, right? I didn't even bother mentioning those in the previous chapter.
xp3r1a: Well, he's not just limited to lightning. Don't forget, he still has his wand. Using electricity to disrupt his opponent's nervous system sounds like a valid combat tactic. But then again, so does cutting an enemy wizard's wand arm off. Another point I chose electricity is that Harry can augment his reflexes by channeling lightning to his nervous system, raising his reaction, and movement speed. So far, Harry has figured out that he can drastically increase his movement speed, and has begun to understand that it's also affecting his nervous system. He might decide to funnel even more power to said nervous system, just to see what happens. You get the idea.
Remzal Von Enili: ...Maybe in a generic hopeless situation? As I said above, I already feel I gave Harry too much power.
Quick note. I don't use the name "Dumbles". It sounds too silly.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
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Lightning Dragon's Roar
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
By Zero Rewind
© 2014
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"It's too late to regret. Reality is just cruelly moving forward." - Uchiha Obito (Naruto, Chapter 597)
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Chapter 8: Power Plays
"GRYFFINDOR!" Cheers arose.
"Can we get this over with...?" I grumbled in annoyance, watching yet another kid get sorted. "For god's sake, it's taking centuries. And I'm getting hungry."
"I hear ya, mate." Ron quipped, looking as bored as I currently felt. Couldn't the kids get sorted an hour earlier, or something? Maybe a day earlier. Inefficiency like this was simply unconscionable.
"The Sorting Hat's song was pretty damn strange, though."
"It's rarely given out warnings before..." Hermione added in her two cents. "Only a few, I've read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
"Perhaps it's a sign?" Neville wondered. "A sign for all the houses to unite."
"House Unity? You won't find me making friends with the snakes, anytime soon, mate." Ron immediately said, grimacing. Our fellow Gryffindors around us nodded in agreement.
I glanced in the direction of the Slytherin table, and searched for a certain girl I wouldn't mind 'uniting' with, if you know what I mean. There she was, sitting right next to her endlessly chattering friend, staring at the enchanted ceiling, with her golden hair, and pretty blue eyes, and that delicious creamy skin... I looked away when it seemed she was about to turn her head in my direction. I felt self conscious. Was she looking at me, right now? My face felt hot. I turned to my friends, and saw Hermione giving me the most peculiar look. Had she caught me ogling Daphne? Crap!
Commence operation: damage control!
"Hermione." I said in faux-surprise, pointing at the top of her head. "What's that on your head? It looks really weird."
"SLYTHERIN!" The Sorting Hat announced as Hermione began fiddling with her bushy hair, self consciously.
I grinned, watching her screwing with her hair for at least ten seconds, before saying, "Oh, my mistake, Hermione. That's just hair. Sorry."
The glare she gave me could melt cold steel. Crisis averted! She leveled the full force of her glare to a snickering Ron, who paled immediately as he attempted to apologize, stuttering à la Quirrell the whole while. It was so hilarious, Hermione giggled.
"Zeller, Rose." McGonagall called out. My ears perked up. The letter Z meant that this was close to being over!
"HUFFLEPUFF!" And the girl in question trotted off to the Hufflepuff table. McGonagall grabbed the Sorting Hat, along with the stool it sat upon, before moving away. Dumbledore stood up, extending his arms in a wide gesture of welcome.
"To our newcomers," The old man smiled. "Welcome! To our old hands— welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"
And just like that, the tables were filled with various foods of all kinds. Ron immediately began to pile chops on his plate, while stuffing his mouth with some bread. Hermione gave him a disgusted look, before beginning to eat as well, easily tuning him out; a feat made possible through much experience. I grabbed some steak, mashed potatoes, and gravy. No pepsi, though. What was the world coming to, when you couldn't get a can of pepsi whenever you wanted? Curse the wizards for not knowing about soda!
I moodily began to eat the steak, stabbing at the meat with great satisfaction. It was delicious as ever, of course, and that lifted my spirits a tad. That was until I automatically grabbed at nothing with my left hand. I was so used to grabbing a can while pulling all nighters in front of my computer.
"This sucks." I frowned and gave a long suffering sigh.
"What is it, mate?" Ron asked curiously, between mouthfuls.
"There's no pepsi, damn it!" I pointed out, upset. "I'm addicted, I need my fix!"
Ron, having tried the cool, fizzy beverage, nodded sadly.
Dean Thomas laughed a ways away, having heard my outburst. "Don't worry, Harry! You can ask the elves for it in the kitchens!"
"Really?" I immediately perked up. "For real?"
"Yeah." The boy confirmed.
"Awesome! Thanks, Dean!"
"No problem, mate." And Dean went back to eating. Maybe the world wasn't as horrible as I thought it was. Wonder what elves would look like if they were hopped up on caffeine? They're already hyperactive little shits, as it is. What does that make them, Super Hyperactive Little Shits?
"They'd need a power level of at least one hundred and fifty million to even qualify, though." I muttered to myself, thinking about the online arguments in Dragon Ball Z about how Son Goku's Super Saiyan power level is actually 150,000,000 and not 15,000,000 as some claim. Of course, using basic mathematics, knowing Goku had a PL of 3,000,000 to begin with, and also knowing that employed the use of Kaioken x20, which put his power level at 60,000,000... There was no way that 15,000,000 was his Super Saiyan level. And yet, there STILL were people claiming that it's 15,000,000. Stubborn idiots just needed to crawl back into their holes and stop trying to sound smart.
"What's that, Harry?" Neville said, perplexed. "I didn't quite understand what you've just said."
"Nothing, just talking to myself, that's all." I smiled at the boy, who dropped it with a shrug. The noise level of the Great Hall was rising, as students and faculty finished, or were in the process of finishing their meals. Dumbledore stood up again. Speech time!
"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices." Dumbly-door said. "First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students— and a few of our older students ought to know by now too." Ron and Hermione smirked in my direction. I returned it with equal fervor.
"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time." Does he keep track? Sheesh. "To remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door."
Dumbledore took a quick breath, and began speaking in his jovial tone once more. "We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted—" Was that a shift in the tone I detected? "—to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
I clapped halfheartedly, and glanced at Umbridge, remembering that she was the one who tried to have me restrained during my trial. Bitch.
"Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the—"
"hem, hem." Umbridge stood up, though she was not that much taller than the chair she sat on. Dumbledore looked at her for a moment, taken aback, before sitting back down in his chair and looked expectantly at Umbridge. I bit back a laugh at Dumbledore's amusing antics. The old fuck gave no shits about the Ministry's interference, whatsoever. He was just messing with her, and she didn't even know it! The other Professors looked shocked and a little miffed at her current course of action.
The witch in the pink cardigan opened her mouth to speak.
"And that, kiddies." I said a little bit too loudly, before she could say anything. "Is the clumsiest power play I've ever seen in my entire life."
Everyone was looking at me now. I gave everyone a charming, innocent smile, and looked at the teachers. Dumbledore gave me a cautionary, and amused look in response. Snape was currently giving me his Death Glare patch 3.21™, or was it 3.22? I can't keep track of the versions anymore. Minerva's lips were pursed, and she stared at me sternly. Probably still sore about me not wanting to be prefect, I guess. The other professors all looked a mix of disapproving and annoyed. Umbridge glared with ill concealed malice.
"What?" I said in mock confusion, motioning to Umbridge. "I thought we were allowed to interrupt the Headmaster while he was speaking. My mistake! Carry on then, esteemed Professor. Just forget I said anything." I settled back down, and stared at a slightly embarrassed Umbridge, the same way Dumbledore was doing before— and was back to doing now. The other students were sharing half bewildered, half amused looks.
"Ahhh— hem, hem." Umbridge said after collecting her thoughts. "Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome."
And she began to drone. She sounded like jail bait, with a sugary sweet voice that reminded me of cute little girls. It did not fit with her image at all. The fat bitch kept on talking in the dreaded language of the lawyer, which is, essentially taking one sentence, and expanding it into seven different sentences which basically said the exact same thing; that the Ministry considered the education of young witches and wizards important. Then she went on saying that progress for progress' sake should be discouraged, and then— paradoxically— went to talking about how we should move forward to an era of 'openness, effectiveness'; and then, talked about how some practices were ought to be prohibited. No specifics whatsoever. Wouldn't want to incriminate ourselves, would we?
She sat back down. Dumbledore clapped, as well as the other teachers— though it was like, twice. Honestly, after hearing that speech, I was surprised they didn't disembowel her where she stood. Picking her statement apart made anger rise in me. They wanted to limit us. If they knew about my Lightning Dragon Slayer magic, they'd probably abduct me to either extract my secrets, or kill me outright for using dark magic or something. The stagnation and ill will of the Wizarding world had coalesced and was finally rearing its ugly head. This was only the beginning of something truly despicable. Freedom of thought was in danger and, as much of an aloof jerk I pretended to be sometimes, I would never endanger freedom of thought.
"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating." Dumbledore gave a small bow to Umbridge. "Now— as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held—"
I tuned him out, turning to Hermione. We shared a knowing, grim look.
"It certainly was illuminating." Hermione said.
"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron said, giving Hermione an incredulous look. "That was the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."
"Nice one." I chuckled, bumping fists with the soulless ginge- I mean, redheaded friend.
"I said illuminating, not enjoyable." Hermione said irritably. "It explained a lot."
"It did?" Ron asked dumbly. "I didn't really pay attention to what she was saying. She was almost as boring as Binns."
"She tried to feed a load of horse shit down our throats, mate." I said immediately, ignoring my year mates' gasps around me.
"First she starts sucking up to the teachers and students by saying: 'Oh, we at the Ministry just love the children's education'. Where's that love been before, eh?" I looked around to my fellow students.
"They couldn't give two shits about us three years ago, when students were being petrified left and right; or two years ago, when dementors were our unofficial truancy officers, traumatizing a good bit of us. Am I right, or not?" I got nods of agreement, and some shivers. I was not the only one affected by the presence of those spectral wraiths, after all.
"And then she goes on to say how progress for progress' sake should be discouraged, and 'pruning whatever practices that ought to be prohibited'." Hermione cut in smartly.
"So?" Ron said, trying to understand. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'll give you a simple example." I began, ignoring Hermione's annoyed look directed at Ron. "You know how you hate spiders?" Ron shuddered, remembering our rather grand time with those dear acromantulas.
"Well, suppose you wanted to use a spell that repels them from your house. Suppose that spell doesn't exist, though. So, what do you do?"
"Create one." Fred— or was it George?— answered from a bit away. It seemed a few people were listening in.
"Exactly. That's what is called progress. Discovering something new to solve a current problem. You see where I'm going with this?" I asked Ron. The cogs in his mind were turning slowly.
"I think I do." Ron said unsure. "You're saying she wants to keep us stupid?" Hermione frowned at the oversimplified statement.
"She wants to pretend there's no problem." I corrected in a grave tone. Ron just shrugged in response. He didn't quite get it, I suppose. It was better than nothing, though.
Dumbledore's speech finally died down, as he dismissed everyone to bed. I said bye to Hermione and Ron, who were ushering the First Years to the Gryffindor dormitories. I chuckled at Ron's callous way of handling them. Midgets, indeed.
I walked alongside Dean, Neville, and Seamus; the last of which was looking everywhere but me. Was he avoiding me? Huh.
"How was your holiday, Harry?" Dean piped up, as we ascended the stairs leading up to the Gryffindor common room.
"Not bad at all." I replied, trying to reach an itchy part on my back with no luck. "My cousin got me a PC last summer; naturally, I was quite busy."
"Yeah? What kind of games you got on there?" Dean asked interestedly.
"Oh, you know. League, Diablo, a bunch of MMORPGs..." I listed off a few games. "And of course, let's not forget pirated games too."
Dean's eyes gleamed in familiarity. "Indeed. I heard Grand Theft Auto Five is going to be released in January this year, for the PC of course."
"When did you hear about that?" I asked curiously.
"Can't remember off the top of my head." Dean shrugged.
"Oh, so it—"
"Should definitely be available on pirate bay when we go home for the summer, yes." Dean and I exchanged excited grins, while Neville tried to make sense of what we were talking about. The grammar was correct, but he couldn't understand anything we just said. Seamus was having a hard time not being interested in what we were talking about, being a half-blood who lived in a non magical household with his witch mum and muggle dad.
"Muggle stuff, Neville." I explained to the round faced boy, who just nodded in understanding. "I'll show you some day. It's really awesome stuff."
"If you're sure..."
"You'll love it. I promise. You'll get to savagely kill a staggering amount of innocent people, fuck any sexy prostitute that catches your eye; and then kill her and take her money! Also you can steal people's cars, bikes, etc. It's essentially a game glorifying overly violent behavior. One of the most amazing games on the planet, I assure you." Neville looked like he wanted nothing more than to avoid whatever I just proposed to him. He did not look assured at all. Pity.
We made it to the common room— Neville had surprisingly remembered the password, this time— and made our way to our dormitories. I walked up the familiar passage, chatting with Dean about Diablo III builds.
"Patch 2.1 went back to the roots for Monks, mate." I was explaining. "They're back to using Sweeping Wind and Fists of Fury. Their damage now comes from the gems they put in their accessories, and a certain set that spawns a clone which explodes for a ton of damage when you use Spirit."
"For real? I hadn't really played that class all that much, to be honest." Dean said curiously. "I'm more inclined to play Demon Hunter."
"Yeah? That Sentry build though." I said knowingly.
"Tell me about it." Dean chuckled, eyes gleaming. "All I do is press a single button over and over, and things just drop dead."
"With, like, what? Less than ten million toughness? I bet they kill you in one hit." I sniped good-naturedly. "My monk can easily pull twenty five million, unbuffed."
"Yeah, but he probably hits like a little girl, doesn't he?"
"How'd you kno— I mean, no he doesn't!"
"Right." Dean laughed, and so did I.
I took off my school robe, and sat on my bed, looking at the walls of this room fondly. I caught Seamus' eye, who looked away quickly.
"All right, I've kept quiet for most of the walk cause I didn't want to cause a scene." I said loudly, taking my shoes, and socks off, making my sore feet feel much better. "What's wrong, Seamus?"
"It's nothing, Harry." He waved me off, but I was undeterred.
"Come on, mate. Did something bad happen this summer?" I asked, concerned.
"You could say that." He answered vaguely. It seemed Dean had an idea, as he was glancing at me nervously.
"What happened?" I asked again, pulling my pajamas out of my trunk.
"Me mam didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts." Seamus admitted, in a slightly shaky voice, as he finished buttoning his own pajamas. "Because of you."
"Because of me? What do you mean?" I asked, though I probably knew the answer.
"Uh... It's not just you. Dumbledore too."
"She believes what the Daily Prophet has been saying about me being an attention seeking liar?" I inquired. "Is that it?"
"Yeah." He confirmed.
"I see. What about you, Seamus? Do you think that, too?"
"Uh— I— That is—." That's my answer right there. I was starting to get angry; angry at the Prophet, angry at Seamus' mom, angry at the Ministry, angry at Voldemort. But, as soon as it came, I squashed it down mercilessly. Anger was almost always useless. Anger led to clumsiness and inefficiency. It led to bad decisions, and endless regrets.
"So you do." I said calmly, gazing at Seamus with an unreadable look.
"Harry, I—"
"Seamus." He quieted down. "We've all known each other here since we were eleven years old. We've eaten together, laughed together, went through detentions together, fought together, and shared stories together. We've seen your terrifying displays of pyrotechnics." At that, Seamus got a little red in the face, while Dean and Neville chuckled. "We've had to endure Dean's football mania." Here Dean looked a bit embarrassed. "We've had old Neville here keeping us all out of trouble, all the while showing us the various plants he knows about— which are awesome, by the way." Neville smiled, and ducked his head. "And finally, we had to suffer through Ron's horrible snoring for years." I loudly whispered the last part, referring to a night in which we tried to shut Ron up, a few years back. We all shared a laugh.
"Don't forget about yourself, Harry." Dean piped up. "Mr. Youngest-Seeker-In-A-Century, Snake Charmer, Dementor Magnet, Triwizard Champion. Honestly, the amount of situations you find yourself dragged into is insane."
"Agreed." I wryly said. "But this brings me to my next point. Seamus." I caught his attention again. He was starting to look guilty for doubting me.
"The Prophet said I was 'dark', last year." I made quotation marks as I spoke. "For being capable of speaking to snakes. In Second Year, people thought I was the Heir of Slytherin, even though I was great friends with Hermione." I stressed that last part out. "So, I realized something."
"What was that?" Seamus felt compelled to ask.
"People will find any reason they like to try and bring me down." I told the Irish boy. "Second Year, they said I was going dark. Fourth Year, I was the cheater who illegally entered himself into the tournament. This year, I'm an attention seeking, unhinged liar. You seeing where I'm going with this?"
"I—" Seamus looked to be at a loss for words.
"It's all right, mate. I'm not going to make you believe me. Just think about it, all right?" I gave a small smile, before frowning. "Though, I'm upset your mum thinks I'm a liar. I thought she was really nice when Ron and I met her at the World Cup."
The hidden insult to Seamus' mother was lost on the boy, since I worded it in a way that complimented her. This way was more insidious in that it makes Seamus look at his mother differently. I was working under the assumption that she had been badmouthing me all summer long, and then here I was, saying I liked her. I didn't like manipulating my dorm mate like this, but I didn't need any enemies from inside my dorm. I had enough of those outside of it, as it is.
"And don't worry so much about it." I said lightly, sitting on my bed and making a wide motion. "I'm sure that more than half the castle also think I'm lying about Voldemort's"— cue winces—"return."
"I believe you." Neville supplied, smiling.
"So do I." Dean said. "You've never been proven wrong, before."
"Who believes what?" Ron said, entering the room and taking off his robe. "What did I miss?"
"Dean and Neville believe that I'm telling the truth about what happened in June." I answered with a smile, glad I had support. Ron gave them a thankful nod.
"What about Seamus?" He pointed at the boy in question, who just stared at everyone.
"...You definitely don't look or sound like a crazed liar." It wasn't quite what I was hoping for, but Rome wasn't built in a day. Good enough.
"Don't know about the crazy part, mate!" Ron exclaimed, while grinning. "Remember when he tried to out fly a dragon using a broom?"
"It worked, didn't it?" I said indignantly.
"Doesn't make you any less crazy, now does it?" Dean quipped, much to the amusement of everyone, including me now.
"Damn straight." I smirked. We chatted the whole night away.
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The next day saw me annoyed right from the get go. As soon as I left the dorm room, I saw Ron and Hermione arguing with each other over Fred and George's notice in the common room notice board. I found it quite amusing.
"This is the limit!" She said as she removed the notice. "Ron, we're going to have to talk to them."
"Huh? Why?" Do I detect a hint of fear there, Ron? I smirked.
"Because we're prefects!" She almost yelled out. "It's up to us to stop this kind of thing?"
"And what's wrong with it?" I interjected. She turned her ire on me. I stared back unflinchingly, until she broke the gaze.
"It's just wrong, Harry!"
"That's not a valid reason." I retorted. "What's so wrong about paying them? They even specify that it's at the volunteer's own risk!"
"That doesn't make it right! They're taking advantage of the students."
"You just don't get it, do you?" I gave her a pitying look— which she did not appreciate, nor understand— and left to the Great Hall. She didn't understand, at all. She lived in her own world of rules and regulations; that's why she didn't understand my blossoming capabilities with Lightning Dragon Slayer magic, thinking that it was impossible, even as I showed it to her.
When all was said and done, you were who you limited yourself to be.
People gave me a wide berth as I crossed the halls of the castle. I found it amusing that they were scared of me; even going as far as shouting 'BOO' to unsuspecting students. In the edge of my vision, I saw Daphne staring at me with thinly veiled amusement. Feeling somehow emboldened by this, I grinned and waved in her direction, before continuing on my way to the Great Hall, after seeing her wave back hesitantly. Progress! Maybe soon, I'll work the nerve to actually talk to her.
As I entered the aforementioned hall, I noticed most of the professors were at the table, with the exception of Hagrid, who was probably still trying to get the Giants to side with us in the war. Though the chance of that happening was about as likely as Erza Scarlet materializing in front of me, wearing her nurse outfit and asking if I have a booboo that needed kissing somewhere. I grinned, and made my way to the Headmaster.
"Ah, Harry, my boy. How are you doing?" Professor Dumbledore asked genially. Professor Umbridge was eyeing the both of us like a hawk.
"Keeping well. You?" I answered politely.
"I am as fit as can be at my age, dear boy." He smiled benignly. "I'm sure you are not here to exchange simple pleasantries?"
"No, that's exactly what I'm here for." I denied with a smile, giving the much older man a mischievous look. "For without pleasantries, we would all be disgusting, fat toads of people. Would you not agree, Professor?"
McGonagall looked like she wanted to reprimand me for the not-so-subtle insult I threw Umbridge's way, but merely shook her head in exasperation.
"Like James all over again." She muttered loud enough for me to hear. I beamed at her.
"Indeed, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Don't forget to eat your breakfast, my boy. Breakfast is an important part of a growing young man's diet, after all."
"Too right you are, sir. Have a nice day!" I gave a respectful nod, before walking back to the Gryffindor table.
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Potter's messing with Umbridge's head! I'm not really sure how to go about the Harry/Daphne pairing, since I'm shit at describing romantic interactions. I'll do my best, of course. Just don't be surprised if I fail miserably, all right?
I know that in the books, Seamus never had explosive accidents with his spellcasting, but I'm taking elements from the movie world for that. I'm sure you'll forgive me.
Also, should I do a scene from Daphne's point of view?