Chapter 12: The Toad Speaks?
Tuesday morning dawned bright and early for Hermione Granger, far too bright and early for someone who had spent the better part of the night in a constant state of irritation with their ex-boyfriend, who had spent the better part of his night alternately cursing and pleading with her. Ron insisted that she still loved him. Of all the stupid, moronic things to say. Of course she still loved him, but it was a memory of the person she thought he used to be, not the one he currently was.
Still, for all her taunts about his inability to curse her properly, Hermione was soon regretting her words, and the sharp assessment she'd had the foolishness to reveal to him. After that, Ron had taken to using all the things that he knew about her, against her, in an effort to harm her. Of course, after he would say something particularly cruel, Ron would always get a bit red faced with shame and apologize profusely, begging her to forgive him and take him back, that nothing, and no one, could make her happier.
It was a strange, and taxing, night; one that she would not easily forget, and – if the gods truly existed out there – one that she wouldn't have to repeat. Hermione had gotten back that night with the disgusting knowledge that they hadn't found anybody outside of their dorms, and that rested solely on the shoulders of Ron, because he wouldn't stop his incessant yapping at her.
Not that she was being a stuck up snob who lived and breathed by-the-book. Of course not. No, never.
Yawning, Hermione met a horrendously cheerful Harry in the common room. "What are you grinning for?" she asked crossly, slumping down onto the cushion next to him.
"Oh, nothing in particular, just the fact that you've managed a few converts." He said, grinning widely.
"Converts? Harry, I'm not a religion." She said, purposefully misunderstanding him.
"I'm not so sure, not according to the gospel of Neville, Seamus, and Dean." Harry said, laughter coloring his tone.
"What in the world do you mean?" Hermione said, morosely separating a small portion of her bushy hair and bringing it in front of here eyes, staring wearily at it. She'd lost the battle with it this morning to make it sit in pretty little ringlets.
"I mean," Harry said smugly, unaware of Hermione's distracted state, "that as of right now, Neville, Seamus, and Dean like you a hell of a lot more than they like Ron, and would much prefer to spend their time with you than him."
"Say what?" Hermione asked, turning her full attention to him.
"You heard me." Harry said, pride in his voice. "The guys like you better than Ron. Quite an achievement, I thought."
"Indeed." Hermione said thoughtfully. "I presume, that this happened when we had that impromptu pillow fight?"
"Probably." Harry grinned.
"That's the best news I've heard all day."
"The day just started." Harry laughed.
"So?" Hermione said negligently, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a practiced flick of her head.
Harry just laughed, which, in turn, inspired Hermione to laugh as well. True, unselfconscious laughs from Harry were rare to the extreme, more so now than they had ever been, and the sound of his unfettered laughing was infectious.
Hermione sobered, remembering the reason that Harry never laughed anymore.
"How are you, Harry?" She asked seriously.
"Me? I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" He asked flippantly.
"Well, life's not been easy for you lately." She observed.
"Like it has for anyone else? The Diggory's lost a son." Harry didn't even pretend not to know what she was talking about.
"True, but they don't carry around this unreasonable burden that they killed him." Hermione said, too softly.
"I-" Harry started. "What makes you say that?" He was completely on the defensive now, and prickly as a porcupine.
"Oh, Harry." Hermione said with compassion, desperately wishing to help her friend and knowing that she never could. "You don't sleep well at all, you haven't since before you came to Headquarters. And, I've seen you, sometimes, sitting in the corner, morosely, by yourself, this black look on your face. It's as if the whole burden of the world rests on your shoulders. Isn't there anything I can do to help? You know I would."
Harry's shoulders relaxed a minute portion; she hadn't seen him running last night. Though he'd been glad to be home, Harry had not expected the nightmares that occurred with frightening intensity over the past two nights, and he'd taken to running again, this time through the hallways and down the stairs, something he hadn't expected would exhaust him after running so much at the Dursleys. But there was something about the up and down steps of the staircases that was so much more difficult to traverse than the – admittedly – uneven ground of the park had been at Privet Drive.
Last night, they'd been worse than ever before, with both Cedric, and the Headmaster ganging up on him, each of them demanding that Harry stand up and take responsibility for his actions, that he save them, and kill the Dark Lord, before more precious lives were lost. He'd woken up in a cold sweat about an hour after Hermione had finally managed to drag Ron out to the prefect's meeting, and long before the two of them would return, very cross with each other. He'd looked around the room, and for one frightening moment, had been unable to place his surroundings. He'd begun to wonder if it was a trick of Voldemort's, before he made out the familiar curtains on his bed, and the comforting snores of his roommates. After that, he'd known that sleep was no longer an option, and he'd slipped silently out of bed, Serin hissing his disdain sleepily from atop his head.
Silencing him with a quiet hiss, Harry had donned his running clothes and tread with quiet steps down the stairs and out the common room, closing the portrait behind him silently so that the Fat Lady only mumbled in her sleep. After that, the most difficult thing had been avoiding the patrols of the new, and old, prefects, all of whom were wound up and excited, to catch wayward students out of their bed. But with his trusty map of Hogwarts by his side (courtesy of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs) he'd easily managed to avoid the searching prefects, as well as the lurking students they were looking for.
He'd run until he'd been exhausted, which hadn't taken that long, not really, and then had returned the way he'd come, slipping back into bed for a few of the most restful hours he'd gotten since the end of the last school term. Exhaustion could do that to you. It was the noise of the rest of the room's occupants that woke him those precious hours later, apparently Ron had gotten back late from patrol, and hadn't appreciated Seamus's alarm. This, in turn, had spurred an argument that kept increasing in volume until the two of them were standing toe-to-toe and screaming at the top of their lungs. Thankfully, Neville had the presence of mind to cast a silencio on the two of them, and the descending quiet had been jarring.
The end, had Ron descending the stairs with heavy footsteps – the spell had yet to be removed – and with the other three occupants in the room left muttering about how Ron had turned into an awful prick this year, and maybe Hermione had been right to cut things off with him as she had. She certainly seemed to have changed for the better while Ron had only gotten worse. Harry had been hard pressed to keep his grin to himself. He'd won over a few allies, without even trying. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, living with Ron this year, if Dean, Seamus, and Neville were on his side.
"Harry?" Hermione said, snapping him back to the present.
"Hmm? I'm sorry, what did you say?" Harry blinked.
Hermione shrugged her shoulders and heaved a great sigh. Sometimes, talking to Harry was like trying to hold water in your hands.
"Never mind, you look fine anyway. Lets go down to breakfast."
"Sure."
ooOO00OOoo
Fred and George had apparently taken up the mantle of 'torturing Ron' that Neville had started when he'd silenced Ron in the dorm room. When Hermione and Harry arrived in the Great Hall, they came and sat down, at first not recognizing that anything was different with Ron, he was being his usual, surly self since their, ahem, disagreement. But when Hermione gave Harry a sharp poke in his ribs with her elbow and tilted her chin in Ron's direction, Harry took a closer look and decided that something was distinctly 'off' about Ron this morning. What was it?
It was subtle, and difficult to recognize, but something was just a little…. Harry cocked his head to the side as he studied his once-friend. Did Ron have cat eyes? Circular irises, with a slit pupil, they looked just like those you'd find on a cat or, perhaps, on a snake. Come to think of it, either Ron's face was peeling, or he had tiny, delicate scales along his hairline, trailing down past his ears and along the underside of his jaw, as well as fragile ones along the back of each of his fingers, joining up to form larger, thicker ones on the backs of his hands.
"Uh, Ron?" Harry asked, unable to remain silent. "Are you okay?"
All Harry got in response was an evil glare from Ron, and a few sharp jabs with Ron's fork in to his already-in-pieces food.
Unwilling to risk a blow up this early in the morning, Harry turned to some of his table mates for an answer, his eyebrows raised in inquisition. George snickered from farther down the table.
"Uh, George?" Harry asked warily, unsure if he really wanted to know what they'd done.
"Yeah, Harry, it was us." Gorge said completely unrepentant.
"He came storming in here, acting a right git, even after we'd been nice enough to remove the silencing charm on him." Fred chimed in.
"He was saying all kinds of mean things about you, Harry, and you too, Hermione." George continued.
"Somehow, I'm not surprised." Hermione commented wryly, before turning towards the table and applying herself to her breakfast with a single-minded intensity usually reserved for her most favorite books.
Fred winked at her, then continued, "So we put the charm back, and added a few of our own."
Harry looked down the table at where the fuming Ron was eating silently. "Just a few?" He queried.
Fred and Gorge both only beamed at him silently, they never gave away their secrets.
Harry chuckled, "All right, why a snake?"
"Well, he was acting like one, saying such things about you." George replied.
"So we figured, if he wanted to be a lying, backstabbing Slytherin, then he could look like one." Fred continued.
"Plus," George said, leaning closer, "he doesn't know about Serin, and making him look like him is rather like flicking him off without his knowledge." He had a wicked smile on his face.
"Well, that's nice of you." Harry frowned, "I think."
George laughed and gave Harry a bracing slap on the back. "Don't you worry, Harry."
"It'll wear off in an hour or two."
"Or six."
"Twelve?" Fred asked.
"Maybe it was twenty-four." George answered.
At the same time, and with identical gestures, they both lifted their hands, palms up, and shrugged their shoulders, their faces apathetic, as if to say, 'who knows, who cares?' before the both of them dissolved into helpless fits of laughter.
After a while, Hermione leaned over to the giggling youths and the still-grinning Harry.
"I don't think you've made any friends today, if looks could kill, I think you three would be dead and smoldering." Hermione glanced meaningfully down the table towards a certain red head who was glaring menacingly at the three of them.
"Uh-oh," George said in a kissy-mouth baby voice, "is little Ronnikins mad about something?" He leaned in Ron's general direction and put a hand to his ear. "What? I'm sorry, I didn't catch that, would you repeat it, please? What's this?" He said, leaning backwards and bringing a hand to his chest in mock surprise "You can't speak? Why not? Does the cat have your tongue? No? A lion maybe? No?"
Fred whipped out his wand and pointed it at Ron. "How about…a snake?" Ron's tongue suddenly shot out of his mouth to waver in front of his face, to reveal that it had been turned black and slender, with a fork at the tip, exactly like the one that Serin sported, cleverly hidden in Harry's hair even now.
"Oh, Merlin!" One of the younger students exclaimed, glancing over to see Ron's errant tongue. "He's got a forked tongue!"
Ron's face turned red and you could visibly see him straining to bring his tongue back into his mouth. Soon, most, if not all, Gryffindors were laughing at Ron. His struggling was attracting more and more attention as his movements became increasingly frantic and wild.
"Misters Fred and George Weasley, what have you done this time?" a crisp voice from behind them silenced them all. "Well?" Professor McGonagall continued when no one spoke up. "I suppose I shall have to find out on my own. Fifteen points from Gryffindor for insubordination. When I ask a question I want it answered." She turned to Ron, who'd finally been allowed to suck his tongue back into his mouth and who was now glaring laser beams at his brothers.
"Mister Ronald Weasley, go to the infirmary and see Madam Pomfrey, she'll be able to fix you right up. And you two," she said to the twins who'd unwisely begun to snicker again. "Come with me."
They sobered up quickly after that, scrambling out of their seats to follow the Professor down the isle of tables and out of the Great Hall.
Silence reigned for a moment, before the giggling began again. Hermione, however, was not amused.
"She's right, you know." Hermione said dourly. "We shouldn't laugh at a fellow Gryffindor."
"Wait, what?" Harry asked. "She didn't say that at all. She didn't even look at us!"
"Harry, sometimes people speak with their mouths, and sometimes they speak without them." Hermione explained, as if to a little child. "With her mouth, she chastised them for insubordination, but without it, she disapproved of the rest of us laughing at Ron, as well as not telling her what the twins had done."
"Well, that was a bit barmy of her." Seamus commented with a crooked smile. "I'd have said it was obvious that they made him look like a snake."
Hermione shook her head. "That's not what I meant. That part was obvious. What she wanted to know was how they'd done it, what spells they'd cast and how to undo them. It'd save Madam Pomfrey some grief if they'd told her."
"Not like they ever tell." Harry commented dryly.
"No, but it never hurts to ask." Ginny said.
"True."
Just then, the clock in the Great Hall chimed the hour, alerting the last straggling students to the fact that the first classes of the day were starting soon, and they'd best move quickly if they were to make it on time. As they all stood and began to disperse to their separate classes, Harry came to stand by Hermione as she gathered up the last of her books.
"I wonder what the new Defense teacher will be like?" Harry wondered idly.
"I don't know, but we'll soon find out." Hermione responded, as she slung her satchel over her shoulder.
ooOO00OOoo
Walking into the classroom, Harry couldn't help being slightly excited about this year's prospect for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Perhaps, this year, the teacher would out-do his expectations for her and would actually teach him something.
Hermione leaned over Harry's shoulder as they were walking and murmured into his ear, "Try to keep a civil tongue, would you Harry?"
"I'm sorry?" Harry asked, shaken from his musings.
"Just….don't get angry." Hermione said again, struggling to understand how she knew these things, and what, exactly, she thought she'd be able to do about it anyway. Nobody ever listened to her when she tried to change the things she knew.
"Of course not. Why would I?" Harry scoffed.
Unable to explain, Hermione simply shrugged and took a seat next to Harry towards the front of the classroom to wait for their teacher. They didn't have to wait long, and before the last student had settled into their seats, Professor Umbridge was walking into the classroom.
"Ah, the toad returnss." Serin suddenly hissed to Harry.
Harry very nearly jumped out of his skin with fright. Glancing hurriedly about the classroom for snooping ears, Harry bent down in his chair and fiddled with his book bag.
"Sserin! You sscared me! I thought you were assleep." Harry hissed, from his position under the table."I wass." Serin acknowledged, giving a wide yawn. "But the toad returned and woke me up."
"What?" Harry said, confused. "How did sshe wake you up? Sshe hassen't ssaid anything yet."
"Maybe not, but sshe ssmellss."
If Serin had been human, Harry was quite certain that he would have his nose wrinkled in a gesture of disgust. As Dolores Umbridge waltzed by Harry chair, he got a whiff of the perfume fog she was surrounded in and was forced to agree. She did smell.
"Alright, class." Professor Umbridge said in a sticky, sweet voice. "Welcome to your fifth year of Defense Against the Dark Arts. My name is Professor Umbridge, and I have taken upon myself the monumental task of correcting your thus-far pathetic schooling in this subject. Put away your wands please."
There was a long moment in which no one moved. Put away their wands?
"Uh, Professor?" One hesitant voice asked from the back of the class. "Put away our wands? Won't we need them?"
"You most certainly will not!" She said, outraged. "This will not be a class in which my students will learn any more foolishness. Now, away with your wands, and take out your books."
Still, the students hesitated. Surely, she was joking?
"Well? What are you all waiting for?" She asked, her voice remaining sweet, even as there was a hard glint in her eye. "Wands, away! Books, out!"
Silently groaning, the class did as instructed, the sounds of paper rattling momentarily filling the sound of the room. The only person to remain unmoving was Hermione Granger who had, inexplicably, left her wand in her pocket and her book on her desk.
"Good," Professor Umbridge stated, sickly happy again. "Now, please, open your books to page one and begin reading chapter one, 'The Absence of Evidence'."
With a minimal amount of fuss, the class did as instructed and began to read from the beginning.
"Excellent. When you are all finished, we'll discuss what you've read." So saying, the Professor turned and walked to her desk; as she sat down, she saw the hand of Hermione Granger raised in the air, seeking permission to speak.
"Yes, dear?" she asked, sounding overly concerned.
"I have a question, ma'am." Hermione said, her voice a carefully controlled study in politeness.
"Yes?"
"Why does this chapter not say anything about the humans who have been harmed by the Dark Arts?" She folded her hands primly in front of her, her back ramrod straight.
The professor only gave a condescending smile. "I said we'd discuss the chapter after you've read the whole thing."
"I have."
"Really?" The Professor sounded unconvinced, "then read the next one."
"I have." Hermione said, and then continued. "I've read the whole thing. Twice, in fact."
"Is that so?" Umbridge said, clearly dubious. "Then what does chapter thirteen say about the werewolves?"
If at all possible, Hermione sat up straighter, aware of the fact that she had the whole class's eyes on her. "Chapter Thirteen, entitled, 'The Beast Within and Without' talks all about the evils of werewolves and how, even during the middle of the month, they are bloodthirsty animals who are incapable of controlling their actions. Creatures who must be shot and tagged for 'their good, and for the good of us all' in order to keep them away from us."
"Chapter twenty two?" the toad asked, unconcerned.
"Chapter twenty two," Hermione said, getting into full 'lecture mode', "details the origins of the Dementors, or the lack of them, and spends a pathetically short amount of time telling us about the Patronus charm and how it is the one, and only, known way of removing them from your presence."
"Pathetically short?" Professor Umbridge asked, a steely glint in her eye. "This book is the one, and only, book out there that has a detailed and accurate representation of what is, and what is not, actually a threat to the people of our world, today." Rising to her feet and walking around her desk, the toad ignored Hermione, who'd been about to say something else, and continued with her monologue:
"These days, our children – you – are fed a multitude of lies about what is, and is not, happening in the world. They tell you that werewolves are kind when not under the full moon; I tell you they are savages even in human form. They tell you that centaurs are noble creatures whom desire only to read the heavens; I tell you that they are monstrous freaks, half-man and half-horse, with all the problems of both, and none of the nobility of either. They tell you that giants, and half giants, are gentle creatures; well, they are wrong! Giants spend their days ripping up trees and beating each other to a pulp, not singing and dancing in a glade of flowers. But most importantly, they tell you that You-Know-Who has come back to life; I am here to tell you, that is a lie." She began to walk around the classroom, up and down the aisles as she talked, pointedly ignoring Harry Potter and his steadily reddening face, not to mention, his hand up in the air. "He has not come back, nor will he ever come back. You-Know-Who is gone forever, you have nothing to fear." She glanced around the room at the disbelieving faces surrounding her. "You don't believe me? Of course, you don't. Headmaster Dumbledore has done his absolute best to contribute to the spreading of the hysteria that says You-Know-Who has returned. You mustn't believe his lies; he is only trying to scare you. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead and has been for…" she finally cut a glance in Harry's direction before turning her back on him, and his raised hand, pointedly, "fourteen years now."
"That's not true!" Harry burst out, standing to his feet. "Voldemort is alive, and we've got every reason to be afraid!"
Umbridge whirled on her heels to face Harry, half a classroom away. "That, young man, is a lie, and I'll have you take it back. You've already spoken out of turn, don't make me give you detention for your lies."
"It's not a lie, I saw Voldemort come back with my own two eyes. I know the ritual they used to give him his body back! He's alive, I tell you!" Harry's body shook with rage. Who was this woman, to say such evil things about the people he loved? Werewolves weren't savages, they were people who were unfortunate enough to have been assaulted by a werewolf, forced to endure a painful transformation every month where they lost their bodies, and their mind, to the control of a monster from inside their own psyche. Centaurs were noble creatures, for all that some of them thought themselves better than humans. They were simply touchy if you asked to ride on their backs, but who wouldn't be? They were sentient creatures, not pack animals! And, as far as giants were concerned, Harry didn't know, but Hagrid was a half-giant and he was the kindest, gentlest person Harry had ever met, bar none. Dumbledore had done his best for him these past five years, and… "Voldemort is alive!"
Every time he'd said the name Voldemort, Harry saw every person in the room cringe. "That is enough, Mister Potter!" Professor Umbridge stalked up towards him, trying to look intimidating in her fluffy, pink cardigan.
"Keep her away from uss." Serin hissed menacingly. "If sshe touchess you, I will bite her."
"Why?" Harry asked, focused on Serin, and completely ignoring the image he made to the rest of the class. There he was, Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, blazingly furious with a professor, standing to his feet, hands clenched at his sides, muscles tense and straining; hissing. Now, as before, when he'd been in his Uncle's house, Harry voice was neither loud, nor overwrought, instead descending to the level of a mere whisper, while still retaining that thunderous quality that caused it to carry throughout the room with an ominous resonance.
"Becausse," Serin continued, unconcerned about, or unaware of, the image his Wizard struck. "Sshe meanss to hurt you, and I will not allow that."
"That doessn't matter." Harry dismissed, watching the toad's progress towards him slow. "Sshe cannot hurt me."
"Sshe won't have a chance to."
Though slightly intimidated by the raven-haired youth in front of her, Umbridge continued foreword until she stood three meters in front of him, at which point she stopped, unable to bring herself to get any closer to the incensed boy.
"You will stop that devil talk this instant!" She screeched at him from a safe distance.
"Devil talk?" Harry straightened his back and looked down his nose at her. "That is not devil talk, ma'am, that is a rare magical ability known as parseltongue; the ability to speak to and understand snakes."
She flushed angrily, "That just earned you a detention, young man. Keep talking and I'll up it to two. You-Know-Who is not alive, and I'll not have you saying such things to frighten the other students."
Hermione, feeling like she was risking life and limb, reached up and grasped Harry by the sleeve, seeking to drag him back down into his chair, but he just shook her hand off. "Stop ignoring facts and I will be silent. Voldemort is alive."
"He is not!" The Professor shrieked at him, even as she took a step away from him and his frighteningly calm voice.
"Oh? Really?" Harry sneered, sounding like the epitome of scorn. "Then what happened to Cedric Diggory the last night of the Tri-Wizard tournament? He dropped dead of his own accord?"
There was a slight gasp that ran around the room when they heard Harry mention Cedric's name; nobody had heard him speak the other champion's name since his unfortunate demise at the end of last year. It hadn't matter how convincing anyone was, nobody had managed to get the story out of him as to what exactly had transpired somewhere between the time he and the still-living Cedric had been whisked away by portkey, and the time he had returned, with the now-dead sixth year, and blood all over himself.
The toad, unaware of these facts, made a simpering, sweet face, and her voice obtained the consistency of molasses. "Cedric, dear boy that he was, suffered an unfortunate end, and we are as of yet unable to determine what happened to him, or how he died…"
"He died at the hands of Peter Pettigrew when he cast the killing curse at Cedric at Voldemort's orders. His exact words were, 'Kill the spare.'" Harry interrupted, his anger making him say things he ordinarily would have kept hidden.
"That, young man, has just earned you a second, and third night of detention. Keep talking, and I'll make it a week." Professor Umbridge smiled through gritted teeth.
"I'm not frightened of you." Harry announced loftily. "I've stood against Voldemort three times now, just as my parents before me. Your detentions couldn't possibly be worse."
"Harry!" Hermione hissed at him desperately. "Just shut up, will you? You're making things very, very bad for yourself and others, so just shut up before things can't be fixed!"
Glancing down at her for the first time, Harry noticed the look of utter desperation on Hermione's face, and he realized that she'd been antagonizing the Professor earlier, so that the Toad would focus her anger on Hermione, and not on Harry. Perhaps this was one of those things Hermione just had a feeling about sometimes and, despite himself and his anger, Harry nodded his head subtly at her, acknowledging her request, and his intention to do as she asked.
While the little byplay had been going on between Harry and Hermione, the Toad had stalked her way up to her desk and scribbled something on a piece of paper. Her good sense to be afraid overcame her anger, and she strutted up to Harry, thrusting the parchment into his hand. "Get out of my class and take this to your Head of House. There will be severe repercussions if I find out that you did not," she demanded stiffly.
Grabbing the paper, Harry nodded his head jerkily and snatched his bag up off the floor, striding out the door, anger evident in his every movement.
As the door closed behind him, Hermione couldn't help but relax a bit in her chair, a sigh of relief escaping. For once, she'd managed to do something good about things. For once, she'd managed to change the outcome of what she'd known would happen. While Harry hadn't managed to completely avoid having detention, Hermione was glad that he'd kept it to three days instead of the week and a half she'd known he'd get. Something terrible would have happened if the future would have carried on, she just knew it. Something that would have caused him irreparable damage and made it much more difficult for him to do what was needed.
As the Toad walked back to the front of the room, and demanded that the students get back to reading, Hermione frowned, lost in thought. What was it that would have gone wrong, exactly? Was it something that Umbridge would have done, or something that he would do in the detentions? Or perhaps, something that would happen to him on the way back from a detention? She really didn't know, and it was driving her crazy. Of all the things in the world that she had encountered and experienced, not knowing something was the one thing that Hermione Granger truly hated, and she vowed she would find out the truth, to save Harry the agony of it.
ooOO00OOoo
Still furious, Harry stalked through the halls, unconcerned about the whispers of the portraits as he passed, or the first and second years who skittered out of the way as he charged like a one man army up the stairs towards Professor McGonagall's office. Rapping smartly on the door, Harry waited impatiently for permission to enter.
"Come in." she called from beyond the door.
Harry grasped the handle and stepped inside, being careful not to slam the door behind him in his rage, even though he still closed it with an emphatic 'click'. Professor McGonagall looked up at him from where she'd been writing something on a piece of parchment.
"Yes? Mr. Potter, what are you doing here? Don't you have Defense right now?"
"Yes, ma'am, I do." Harry said crisply, handing over the piece of paper. "Professor Umbridge wanted me to give you this."
Taking it wordlessly, the Head of Gryffindor House read the slip through, her countenance darkening, and lips forming a thin line as she neared the end. "Mr. Potter, is this true?" she said finally, looking up at him severely.
"I'm not entirely sure what it says, but it's probably mostly right Professor." Harry responded, still unrepentant.
"Harry," Professor McGonagall said, taking off her glasses and setting them down on the desk in front of her, "it says here, that you were willfully disobedient and rowdy in Professor Umbridge's class, that you called her a liar, and that you continued to act in this manner even after she'd given you a detention." She stared at him, waiting for him to either confirm or deny the accusations.
Tilting his head to the side, Harry considered everything that Professor McGonagall had said. "Yes, that's just about right, I'd say." He answered after a moment. "I did all of those things." Professor McGonagall's eyebrows flew upward, even as Harry continued talking. "But what she didn't tell you was that she said that werewolves were savages, half-giants were animals, and that centaurs were cruel, not to mention she claimed that Voldemort was dead, and Headmaster Dumbledore is a liar. Besides, she had no explanation as to what happened to Cedric…that night." Harry choked on his last words, unable to relive the nightmare so soon after he'd spoken of it in the classroom.
McGonagall's severe expression softened only slightly as she listened to Harry speak. "Harry, that is no excuse for what you said, or for how you said it," she shook her head. "If you felt so strongly about this, you should have waited to speak to her, or better yet me, about it after class, not stood up and challenged her authority on her very first day as a teacher." She shook her head once again. "Harry, I'm afraid that I am going to have to uphold her detentions for you tomorrow night at eight. Try to keep your temper in future classes, won't you?" She asked, a demand phrased as a question.
Harry nodded stiffly. He hadn't expected her to overturn the Toad's detention; he hadn't expected her to do anything. He'd already decided that anything good that was going to happen to him over the course of his life was going to happen to him because he'd made it happen. Turning towards the door Harry departed his Head of House's office and headed out towards the owlery. Since it was a double period of Defense that he was missing, he had about an hour and a half to kill before his next class. He might as well go spend some time with Hedwig, what else was there to do?
ooOO00OOoo
Hedwig was wonderfully excited to see him, despite the fact that he'd woken her up. Days started early at Hogwarts, and since Defense had been his first period of the day, it was not quite 9 o'clock in the morning; time for all good postal owls to be asleep after a long night of delivering mail.
"Hey, Hedwig, have you missed me, girl?" Harry asked as she hooted excitedly and flew over to land on his proffered arm.
She hooted again, softly, and reached out to nibble gently on his earlobe.
"Yeah, I've missed you too." Harry said softly, bringing her closer and scratching her head, working his fingers between the dense feathers on her head and sending her straight into a state of deep bliss. They sat there for a moment, content in their companionship. Harry always missed these moments when he went back to school, it was the only true advantage Privet Drive had over Hogwarts: the time available to spend with Hedwig.
"Oh, hey, girl. I got something to tell you." Harry said eventually, once his fingertips were beginning to go numb from the constant scratching. Reluctantly, Hedwig pulled back so that she could look him in the eyes. Ruffling her feathers a bit to settle them all back into place, she settled down with a serious look in her eyes and clacked her beak at him once, sharply. All right, My Wizard, talk. I'm listening. She seemed to say to him.
"Okay, well," Harry paused and looked upward, "Serin, are you listening too?"
"Of coursse, Wizard-Mine, though I'm ssure I've heard thiss before, I'll gladly hear it again." Serin said."All right. Well." Harry glanced about and found a stone seat inset along the wall of the owlery and settled himself in it, as comfortably as possible. "Defense against the Dark Arts was the first class today, and also the first time that the new professor would be teaching my class Defense. I was almost hoping that she'd prove to be a good teacher this year, we've had so few."
Hedwig hooted her agreement, even she had noticed that their schooling in Defense had been distinctly lacking. Or, at least, substandard
"So, we're walking in the door, and Hermione tells me not to say anything, to keep my mouth shut and to not get angry. Now, you know, and I know, that she knows things sometimes, that defy explanation. She's just really smart, I suppose, and capable of putting things together that the rest of us can't, but…" he shrugged, "whatever. So, she tells me to stay calm and I tried, really I did, but that…that…" Harry struggled for a suitably scathing word.
"Toad." Serin suggested gleefully. "Sshe lookss and ssmellss like a Toad."
"Right, Toad." Harry said, accepting the title, "said all kinds of evil things about werewolves and half-giants and centaurs and…and…Dumbledore…and she said that Voldemort wasn't alive!" Harry cried.
Hedwig hooted disbelievingly.
"I know, stupid, huh? I mean, what does she think happened to Cedric last year? And what about the fake Moody? There are so many holes in her argument, it wouldn't hold water, but that doesn't matter. She's the teacher, she's from the Ministry, and so, she's automatically right." Harry shook his head. "This year is not going to be much fun for me when it comes to Defense, I can tell." Harry said with a deep, abiding sense of irony, as if his other years had been much better.
"But that's not what I came up here for, not really. I really wanted to give this to you." Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the good luck charm that Ginny had given him a week ago before his hearing. "Ginny gave this to me earlier, and I want you to have it now. She said it was a good luck charm; I had it with me during the Hearing and that turned out well, so I'd like you to have it. You go out at night, flying for hours at a time, and there are all kinds of power lines and things that you could run into, I'd like for you to be safe."
Hedwig hooted softly, apparently touched at his thoughtfulness. Gently, she leaned forward and nibbled on the tips of his fingers before taking the delicate shell in her beak.
"So you'll take it with you?" Harry asked happily.
Encumbered with the seashell in her beak, Hedwig could only mimic the human gesture of assent and nod her feathery head up and down awkwardly.
"Good!" Harry said with a grin on his face. "Here." Harry took the shell back and produced a thin, but sturdy, leather thong from his breast pocket. With a whispered word, and a subtle gesture from his wand, Harry burrowed a small hole through the outside edge of the shells delicate spiral and deftly threaded the leather through it, creating a sort of necklace. "There you go." Harry said, gently tying the shell around her neck so that it hung just short of her breastbone. "Think it'll be out of your way when you fly?"
Hedwig turned aside and took off from Harry's lap, making an experimental circuit of the owlery before coming back to Harry and landing on the bench beside him. Dancing a bit on her talons, Hedwig gave a hoot of approval.
"Well, I'm glad you like it." The distant chiming of the Great Hall's clock suddenly resounded around the small interior of the owlery. "I guess that's my cue to leave. Take care of that shell, would you? It's rather precious."
Hedwig gave him a look of pure incredulousness. She clacked her beak sharply at him, her stare intense. What do you think I'm going to do, drop it?
Harry chuckled, "of course not, I'm sorry for asking." Reaching out, Harry gave Hedwig one final scratch on her head before standing to his feet. "All right, time for me to be off. Take care, Hedwig, I'll see you soon."
ooOO00OOoo
The good mood that Hedwig had put Harry in quickly disappeared in the face of the barrage of questions the student population piled on top of him, and he was grumpy and grouchy the rest of the day. Having spoken once, briefly, of that horrible night with Cedric, the rest of the school seemed to have taken that as an open invitation to ask him about anything and everything that had been burning in their minds since that fateful night. Having gotten the general details from his words in Defense, which, of course, had spread frightfully fast throughout the school, the questions were of a painfully observant manner. From the Hufflepuffs, it was: 'What were Cedric's last words?'; 'Did he die well?'; 'How do you feel about it?'; and 'Do you have nightmares?' The Gryffindors wanted to know: 'What does You-Know-Who look like?'; 'Who was there?'; 'What was the duel like?'; and 'Were you scared?' Ravenclaws were unremarkably interested in the logistics of it: 'What spells were cast?'; 'What words were said during the ritual?'; 'How long did the ritual take?'; and 'What, exactly, did He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named say?' The Slytherins, sly as ever, spoke not a word, but floated along the fringes of the rest of the Houses as they peppered Harry with questions, listening intently, hoping to catch him saying anything that would reveal even the smallest thing about that night. Too bad Harry wasn't in a forthcoming mood.
He snarled his way down one of the more deserted hallways, having managed to momentarily evade his questioning pursuers. It didn't really make him happy though, he knew that they'd find him eventually, and the questions would begin again. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?
"What's wrong, Potter?" A snide voice asked from the shadows to the right. "Not happy with the adoration of your fans?"
"Of course, not." Harry snorted. "Why would I be?"
"Because they're all just …dying… to talk to you." Draco Malfoy stepped out of the shadows, a sneer plastered on his face.
"You know what, Malfoy?" Harry asked, anger darkening is words. "Fuck you!" He shook his head angrily. "Do you get some kind of perverse pleasure from pulling the wings off flies? Do you pour salt on slugs, and kick puppies down the street? Because you're acting just as stupid and barbaric as the Muggles that do that."
Malfoy's face went white with anger. "I am nothing like those stupid Muggles."
"No?" Harry asked, clearly unconvinced. "Then stop acting like them. Don't make fun of the fact that Cedric is dead."
"I never—" Malfoy started, but Harry cut him off.
"I don't really care. Cedric is dead, Malfoy. Dead. Only sadistic bastards, and Death Eaters get their jollies out of cracking jokes at the expense of dead people and torturing others about dead people. What does that say about you?" From the topside of his right ear, Harry could hear Serin hissing in his ear, though the words were too garbled to catch. All of his attention was on the now furious pureblood in front of him.
A moment or two passed in which there was silence, Malfoy, for once, looked at a loss for words. They were standing not far from a junction in the hallways, the one they were in was one not often traveled, but it met up, a dozen meters away, with one of the busiest pathways in Hogwarts. It was too bad the two were separated by a deceptively thick tapestry that blocked most sounds. When Malfoy had yet to say anything, and the already faint sounds from beyond the tapestry were getting fainter, Harry knew that now was a good time to leave, before Malfoy got his voice back and said something that would really piss Harry off and start a fight.
As he turned to leave, Harry finally caught what Serin was saying. "…not nice at all."
"What do you mean?"
"You condemn him for taunting you about dead people, and then you taunt him about a dead person; hiss father."Harry paused in his tracks as he contemplated what Serin had said. "You know, you're right. But I wassn't doing it out of sspite. I had honestly forgotten that hiss father wass dead, there iss no way he'd forgotten about Cedric. He made that clear when he emphasized 'dead'."
Just as Harry started to walk again, he heard a muffled curse come at him from behind, striking him square in the back. Instantly, his legs softened, refusing to bear his weight, and he collapsed into an ungainly heap on the floor. From behind him, Harry heard retreating footsteps. Odd that Malfoy hadn't taken the opportunity to come up and hex him silly, or even make some snide comment about how he should never turn his back on a Malfoy.
Pushing himself up with his arms Harry discovered that his wand, which had been safely tucked away in his pocket, was now, somehow, across the hall from him and beyond easy reach. Great, just great. Malfoy hexes me with the jelly-legs, and my wand pops out of my pocket and goes rolling away. Just what I wanted.
From above, Harry could hear Serin snickering at him.
"Just what iss sso funny?" Harry asked peevishly.
"He got you." Serin announced.
"Yeah, I noticed." Harry replied tartly. "Thankss for the warning."
"You're welcome."
"I wass being ssarcastic."
"I know, but I wassn't."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Couldn't you have warned me about that ssoft-legss hex?"
"I could have, but why bother? It wassn't a threat."
"Not a threat! Sserin, I can't walk!" Harry hissed, outraged, from his position on the floor where he was crawling, rather ungracefully, towards his wand.
"Sso? Neither can I." Serin replied, unconcerned.
"Yess, but I'm ssuppossed to walk, I have legss."
"How unfortunate for you."
"Sserin…" Harry said, exasperated.
"What? He wassn't going to hurt you," Serin was unconcerned.
"A ssoft-legss hex doessn't count ass being hurt?" Harry said, disbelievingly, he'd just reached his wand.
"No."
Harry picked his wand up and performed the counter-curse, relieved at finally being able to stand. "Ssnakess are sstrange."
ooOO00OOoo
Well, would you look at that? A new chapter! Will wonders never cease? When you drive 45 min. one way to your job, spend 40 hours a week there, and then drive another 45 min. back, you don't have much time to do anything else. I'm just glad I got this chapter out at all. For those of you who are wondering, yes, Harry and Draco are about to be soul bound, it's two chapters away, have patience with me. For all of you who have stuck around this long and plan on staying for the end, I truly appreciate you. And oh, by the way, 100 reviews? You guys are freaking awesome. Tootles!