A/N: ENJOY!!!!!!!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. However, on a completely unrelated note, I think that Johnny Wier got robbed in the Men's Ice Skating at the Olympics!!! EErgh!
Chapter Five
If Harry had had his way, he would have taken the slowest route to Potions, walking his slowest pace, and dropping his bag numerous times. However, to his eternal annoyance, he just didn't have that kind of time. He half stumbled, half sprinted his way through the maze-like corridors and passageways of Hogwarts (with Hermione panting along by his side) towards the Dungeons.
To Harry, it felt remarkably similar to descending towards Hell.
Finally, they approached the damp, stone-hewn corridor, which lead to the Dungeon. They stopped directly outside of the door, hearing a buzz of pre-class chatter through it. Harry stared at the door handle in contempt - as if he could somehow make it disappear just by doing so. However, as he was not an expert on wandless magic, it did not do so.
"Harry?" Hermione said, gently nudging him with her elbow to break him out of his glaring. "We should go in now. We can't just skip. You'll get in even more trouble from Snape as well as other teachers." Harry, of course, knew this. As a last attempt to make some sort of defense against Snape's sure-to-be-harsh words, he straightened, and in one brisk movement - opened the door.
Harry could have sworn it hadn't ever been that loud before. Every single head in the room, teacher and student alike, turned towards him, their eyes sticking like glue. Harry stepped in, Adam's apple bobbling as he gulped.
As discreetly as he could while so many were watching his every move, he took one of the two seats Ron had reserved and plunked down in it, hunching his back as he dug through his book bag and tried to find his text.
"Late again, I see," came the sneering voice of Snape from across the classroom. "Not the best way to start a school year out, it is?" This was a hypothetical question, Harry knew. To answer was to invite him in for more taunting. "Five points from Gryffindor each for your tardiness." He snapped, whipping around to face the chalkboard as he spoke. Harry bit back a retort, knowing it wouldn't help at all. Beside him, Hermione's face was contorted between anger and outrage.
However, like Harry, she seemed to see that this was not the best time to argue with the professor.
Despite the unfair deduction of points, Harry remained calm. Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore him; he chanted mantra-like inside his head as Snape continued belittleing and insulting him and, nearly as predominantly, his father. To his great surprise, it seemed to be working. Harry only nodded vaguely at Snape's snide words, and the Potions Master was none too pleased about Harry's newly acquired skill.
"-horrendous. Longbottom, I seem to have underestimated you - you are even worse at Potions than Potter!" He spat Harry's last name as if it were poison. Neville hunched his shoulders and attempted to become invisible in his chair. It went without saying that he as unsuccessful.
"Sorry, Sir," Neville muttered, barely loud enough to be heard. Snape curled his upper lip into an ugly, disdainful sneer.
"Fifteen points from Gryffindor for your complete and utter incompetence, Longbottom! Now go get a rag and clean up that spilled potion!" Groans echoed around the dungeon, mixed slightly with happy whispers and snickers from the Slytherins. Finally, Harry couldn't take it any more. He may have been able to hold out against insults about him, and even his parents, but his friends? I don't think so. However, Harry would lay in wait.
For a second, Harry felt very Slytherin as he formulated his plan. Despite having had only a short prank-lesson from Lupin, (Remus, he corrected himself) he had learned a few, vital skills and had been stocked. He cautiously felt inside his robes pocket for the smoke bomb Remus had given him. Upon finding it, he smiled slightly evilly. Across the room, Pansy Parkinson looked disgruntled at this expression.
"Professor! Potter's up to something!" She shrilled in a nauseatingly high voice. Harry started, but calmed himself. I've still got the upper hand, he consoled himself. However, Snape didn't seem to think so. He swooped down bat-like, smiling sickeningly.
"Potter?" He said, deceptively calm.
"Yes, sir?" Harry answered, equally composed. For a second, Snape narrowed his eyes - surprised at Harry's demeanor.
"What is this?" Snape pointed one long, spidery finger towards Harry's potion as he spoke. Harry shrugged; knowing that no matter what he said it wouldn't help his cause.
"My potion, Professor." He answered confidently, still fingering the smoke bomb in his pocket. "Do you have a problem with it?" Again, Snape sneered. That really isn't an attractive expression on him, Harry thought.
"What color is it?" Snape was acting as if he were talking to a four-year-old. For a second, Harry was tempted to start his plan right then, but he restrained himself. Harry glanced at his potion. It was supposed to be bright turquoise.
"It's dark blue, professor," He answered, still calm.
"It is supposed to be turquoise, Potter." Harry nodded.
"I know that." Harry said. Snape nearly took a step back at Harry's unexpected answer. However, he plowed on.
"Potter! You astound me in your complete incapability to make even the easiest of potions! Your fainting on the train does not allow you to simply ignore your classes, no matter how entitled and important you may think yourself!" The Slytherins around the room (especially Malfoy, Harry noticed) snickered and sneered, enjoying Snape's anger directed at Harry.
"Okay, sir." Harry answered. Beside him, Hermione had bent her head over her cauldron to hide her face. However, Harry could tell that she was on the verge of laughing at Snape's anger at Harry's cool attitude. However, Harry's attention was focused on the reddening man in front of him. Usually a sickly pale color, Snape's skin was rapidly turning light pink, then nearly tomato-red. Next to him, Ron couldn't withhold a tiny snicker. Snape whipped his head around, his greasy black hair flying over his shoulders.
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley!" Snape hissed. Ron spluttered indignantly.
"But- but sir! That's not-"
"Fifteen points, then!" Ron had the wits to stay silent, though his face had turned even darker than Snape's. Harry could hear him muttering profanities, though it was too soft for Snape to hear. Harry bit back a grin at Ron's inventive cusses.
Fingering the smoke bomb, he realized that if he let it off now, Snape would not only automatically suspect him (and, for once, be correct in his suspicions) but he would likely have a lot of points taken off. Harry gave a miniscule sigh of annoyance, and carefully placed the round, fist-sized ball back into his pocket.
I will prank him though, he vowed. But now is not the time.
Cheered by his vow, he went back to his potion, taking care to follow the instructions exactly. Hermione was a bit ahead of him in the potion, and though he could not ask her for direction or help (Snape was staring fixedly at him, an ugly glare twisting his face) he often looked back casually - pretending to retrieve something or other - and watch her for a few seconds, and copy her. After a couple of his turns, she had caught on and gone a bit slower, inconspicuously holding up the ingredients she was using to make it easier for Harry.
All in all, Potions passed much more quickly than he'd expected it to. At long last (Harry had been watching the clock with rapture) it tolled 11:55. Harry dashed out, having pre-packed a few minutes before. However, he was not quick enough to evade Malfoy, who was sitting rather inconveniently in the desk right next to the door.
"Running away, Potter?" He asked, stepping in front of the doorway.
"What, from you, Malfoy? I'd more likely run from a pink rabbit," Harry retorted, getting a few laughs from his fellow Gryffindors. Malfoy's lip curled.
"From the scary Dementors over there, of course," He said, pointing a finger at the far wall of the classroom. Harry, not taking the rather obvious bait, simply raised an eyebrow. Malfoy, however, was not to be deterred. He began miming what appeared to be a feinting six year old girl... who he apparently believed was what Harry had been like. Beside himself, Harry was offended.
"Ohhhh!" Malfoy squealed in a high-pitched voice not overly different from his normal one, "Scccaaarrrryy! I'm so scared I think I'm going to... faint!" Despite the terrible attempt humor, the Slytherins (most of which had remained in the Potions room to watch Malfoy tease Harry) laughed in unison. It reminded Harry of the typical high school movie scene.
Mean person. Mean person teases. Lackeys laugh. Teased person gets mad. Teased person ends out on top.
Now all he had to figure out was how exactly to end up on top...
However, while he was wracking his brain for any ideas on how to do that, Hermione took action. She took a calm, confident step forward - glaring at Malfoy the entire time - swiveled her upper body to the side, cocked a closed fist, and slammed it into the side of Malfoy's head.
Malfoy went flying - actually falling a good three feet behind where Hermione had hit him. She stood in perfect position, her glare not lessened and her fist still raised threateningly.
There was silence.
...
Then, the room exploded. Gryffindors and Slytherins alike were howling with laughter, gripping each other's heaving shoulders for balance. Malfoy lay in a disheveled heap, looking completely and utterly stunned at this turn of events. The laughing did not cease.
Hermione had begun to blush - an attractive, bright pink hue spreading across her upper cheeks. She looked torn between grinning in satisfaction, and feeling bad and apologizing to the ferret-like boy before her. Harry, who was laughing albeit not as hard as the rest, rested his right hand comfortingly on her shoulder - hoping to somehow communicate that she shouldn't feel bad for the boy one bit. He'd had it coming for a long while now.
"H-Hermione," Ron gasped between choking laughter, "where did you learn to throw a- a punch like that?" She smiled, her mouth curling up into a satisfied smile.
"Karate lessons during summers," she replied, losing none of her composure. Ron, however, seemed to find her explanation even more laugh inducing.
"Di- did you h-hear that, Dean?" He shouted loudly to the other boy. "Hermione takes K-k-karate lessons!" Dean, Ron and Seamus (who had overheard over the raucous laughter) fell into even louder hysterics.
Harry glared at Ron. Why is he laughing? He wondered. It's not like she couldn't kick his scrawny arse at both dueling and fistfights... And then Harry realized he'd found his answer. Ron was scared, and angry at Hermione for upping him at yet another thing. Sure, Ron was glad to see Malfoy (who was still spluttering angrily) put into his place, but he had wanted himself to be the one to do it.
Ron wanted to be the one who was congratulated, not Hermione.
Even in her moment of glory and recognition, he looked sour. The laughter had mostly died down by now - accentuated only by infrequent burst of hiccup-y laughter from assorted Gryffindors. Everyone was crowded eagerly around Hermione, asking her questions and reminiscing about her and Malfoy's brief encounter.
Hermione looked (and felt, Harry was certain) overwhelmed and out of her comfort zone. Like Harry, she'd never liked the spotlight, and she had surprisingly similar reasons to Harry's for it. Of course, she's grown up in a normal household with kind parents - but she'd never really been in the spotlight before, and when she had it had been for bad reasons.
When she'd been called into attention during her elementary school years, it had been when she was being teased for being her smart self. Similarly, and yet not, the only time Harry'd been a source of attention in his home life for the overwhelming majority of his life was when he had done something wrong and needed to be punished. Harry couldn't help a small shiver from running through him at the thought.
However, Ron - having six siblings - had been the center of attention very little. However, what separated him from Harry and Hermione was that when he was in the spotlight it was for good reasons. When he'd made a goal in Quidditch, or done good accidental magic, his parents had doted upon him and congratulated him. However, the only attention they (meaning Harry and Hermione) had ever gotten had lead to worse and worse repercussions.
Harry narrowed his eyes as Ron started speaking louder and louder, trying to take attention away from Hermione as he recounted Malfoy's fall in a boisterous, overdone manner. A scarce few people were listening or watching him, and the ones who were laughed weakly - wanting to hear from Hermione, not him.
After a while, Ron realized the truth of it as Harry watched. His eyes narrowed, red hair falling into his eyes in an angry manner as he marched sullenly away. Harry had an ominous feeling that this wouldn't be the last he would hear of this.
However, now was not the time for such thinking. Hermione needed him. Despite himself, a little thrill ran through him at that thought. Hermione needs me. Smiling, he stepped forward, pushing the crowds of people aside to get to his friend.
"Hermione!" He said, finally reaching her.
"Harry!" She said, letting a huge breath out in a sigh of relief. "Thank you, but-" The rest of her sentence was lost in the loud crush of people. Harry glared.
"QUIET!" He roared, using accidental magic to raise his voice to nearly sonic proportions. "Can't you see she wants to get to lunch, you idiots!?" The mob (though decreased from it's original numbers) quieted ashamedly.
"'Sorry's" were mumbled toward Hermione as the crowds dissipated, everyone bunching off into groups - still discussing the swift battle between Hermione and Malfoy.
"Thanks, Harry," Hermione said, staring at him with wide, brown eyes. "I don't... like attention." She cemented Harry's original suspicion with her hesitant words.
"Neither do I," He replied unnecessarily. Hermione already knew this, but he said it so she wouldn't be a separate party from him. They were united. "Too bad Ron doesn't feel the same. I have a feeling things might be a little tense between you two in the next few weeks." Hermione took in his words, nodding slowly as she put together the information and processed it.
"Yeah," She agreed shortly.
In an amiable silence, they walked towards the Great Hall for lunch period. By the time they'd reached the cavernous room, the tale of Malfoy's humiliation had spread with influenza-like speed to all corners of Hogwarts. No one had been left uninformed.
Hermione was approached by people of all houses (though less from Slytherin than any others) and congratulated, even hugged by a few of Malfoy's more prominent enemies. By the time they were seated in their normal area, Hermione was once again blushing up a storm, and she soon busied herself picking at her corned beef disinterestedly. She looked as if she wanted to pull out a textbook from her book bag, but in the sake of his sanity, Harry kept it away from her firmly - despite the confused and slightly annoyed looks she sent him throughout lunch.
Finally, the whisper-filled lunch was ended. Snape, who had been in his office throughout the Malfoy-Hermione episode, had come to lunch and had been staring in ill-disguised fury at Harry and company the entire time. Despite the sure-to-be-unpleasant repercussions of his anger, Harry couldn't help but feel happy at his absence during Hermione's fifteen minutes of fame.
"We have to go, Harry!" Hermione said for about the fifth time that day, nudging him gently with her shoulder. "C'mon, Defense starts soon! We don't want to miss Professor Lupin's first lesson with us..." That was all it took for Harry to choke down his last bite of pasta and jump onto his feet as quick as lightning. Hermione looked taken aback, yet pleased.
"Erm... good," She said, unsure what to say at his sudden enthusiasm towards classes. "Let's go!" And they headed off, neither saying anything about Ron's lack of appearance all through lunch despite his notorious appetite.
It's going to be an uncomfortable day, Harry decided.
When they reached Professor Lupin's classroom, there was about three minutes until class. Harry and Hermione sat down at a table with three seats - so that there would be room for Ron when he came to join them. If he came to join them. They chatted aimlessly for a few minutes until Remus entered the classroom about a minute before class through the connecting door to his office.
About thirty seconds before class, Ron came dashing in - red faced and heaving with effort at the run. Harry felt disapproving, before he realized that he'd come to classes at pretty much the same schedule as Ron last year. He made a mental note not to do that, and to try to convince Ron not to either.
Panting, the Weasley marched up to a seat not in the table Harry and Hermione were at and plopped down, talking to Dean and Seamus immediately. Dean and Seamus themselves looked more than a little bit confused by this turn of events, often turning curiously towards Hermione and Harry during the tentative conversation.
Finally, class began.
"Good afternoon, students, I am Professor Remus Lupin and your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." He sat down on the corner of his desk, effortlessly gaining "non-stuck-up" points from most students. "Now, for the first ten or so minutes of class, I'd like to welcome all of you to ask any and all questions you may have for me."
A few hands shot up into the air, Hermione's included.
"Mr..." Remus's voice trailed off as he silently asked for a name.
"-Finnegan." Seamus finished for him. "I was wondering if you could show us a cool spell really quick, as a demonstration - even if we don't learn it." Seamus looked eager at the prospect of "cool" magic, and Harry too was excited at this turn of events. Besides the first day of first year, they'd never really gotten to see a really interesting example of any of the classes, or what they were working towards.
"Good question, Mr. Finnegan," Remus replied jovially. "Of course. Now, let's see..." He thought for a couple of seconds. "Ahh! Here's a rather flashy spell, though it isn't used very much in common day use-" He flicked his wand in a slightly strange up-and-down pattern, "Quendam Narro!" He said.
Immediately after his neon orange beam of magic hit the object he'd pointed at (which was, in fact, a paper weight on his desk) it stood up, turned yellow with green dots and began to talk through an unseen mouth.
"Hey, suckers!" It yelled in an annoying, high pitched tone. "What'cha doin'?" No one answered, still looking at the strange item open mouthed. "You see, there was this funny story last week. See - I was just sitting in this shop and this dude came in, dressed real crappy, he was. Tie especially looked like shi-" Remus did a quick "Finite!" before the paperweight could finish it's swear. He looked a little bit red in the cheeks at the language of his paperweight.
"What... was that?" A Ravenclaw girl in the front of the class asked in a mix between curiosity and distaste - presumably at the paperweight's personality.
"That, my friends," Remus replied, "-was a very effective distraction spell. Now, say you're in a duel where your opponent can't specify exactly where you're hidden... in a forest, or something." The students nodded in comprehension. "You can cast this spell to create a distraction and get your dueling partner to look away while you go onto offense."
"Cool!" Lavender Brown said in a rare bout of enthusiasm towards magic. "But... wouldn't your opponent be able to tell it wasn't you talking? I mean, you don't talk like that..." Remus blushed lightly again.
"Well, that actually was a bit of mistake on my part. The item I used in the example was wizard-made. To create something with an... erm... calmer, or more normal personality, you have to charm something of natural origin, such as a stick or a regular rock. The paperweight I used," He picked up the blown-glass paperweight, "-is rather... un-natural."
"Cool!" Lavender Brown repeated.
"Anyways, any more questions?" Remus asked. This time, many hands rose exuberantly into the air. "No more demonstrations," he said in a faux-strict tone. "Maybe in a couple of days, though." A couple more hands went down, disappointed looks on the hand-raisers expressions.
In the next five minutes, Harry and the class learned that Professor Lupin:
-Had never taught professionally before, though he'd tutored for a short time a few years ago
-Lived in a small cottage about fifteen miles from Liverpool, in the country
-Didn't have a pet
-Was thirty-three years old
And a few other assorted facts. Finally, once he'd called on Hermione, she asked the first school related question.
"Sir," she began, "-what exactly are we going to learn this year?" There were a few groans around the room, as the professor had announced this to be the last question he would answer.
"Well, Mrs. Granger," (she'd introduced herself previously) "-we will first be learning about magical creatures and how to protect yourselves from them. However, we will also be learning basic dueling and a few offensive and defensive spells." This elicited a few excited whispers around the classroom. Besides the failed attempt at a Dueling club last year, they'd never even gotten to fight magically against other students... within the rules, at least. The best attack spell most of them knew was the Tickling hex, or the Disarming spell.
Harry gave a sigh of relief. He may not be the most academically aspiring person, but he'd realized early this year (with the partial abandonment of Ron) that he really did need to step up his studies if he wanted to be able to last more than a second against Voldemort, and if this curriculum wasn't in place, he doubted he would have taken initiative himself. Also, though he barely admitted it to himself, it gave his comfort to know that he would have a ways of defending himself against Vernon Dursley if it came to that.
"Now, enough questions. First this year, we will be learning about Red Caps, followed by Boggarts..." and the lesson began.
......o0O0o......
"-so amazing!" Hermione gushed excitedly as they walked together towards Divination, which was apparently in the highest tower of the school. "Finally, we have a DADA teacher who will actually teach!" Harry grinned.
"Looks like someone has their second teacher crush..." he hinted jokingly. She elbowed him hard in the side. "Ow!" Harry exclaimed, miming to be more hurt than he actually was.
"Serves you right!" She said, sniffing, yet still looking amused. "I do not have a crush on Professor Lupin! It would be fickle to have two crushes at once-" she stopped her sentence immediately as she realized what she was saying, and blushed the color of a ripe tomato. Harry smiled, though inside he was far more hurt than he'd have liked to admit for a reason he knew not.
"I didn't know you had a c-crush on someone, 'Mione," he said, covering up his (completely uncalled for, he reminded himself) hurt. "Who's it on?" If possible, she got an even darker red. "Seamus? Ron?" She shook her head fervently, looking slightly disgusted when he suggested Ron.
"Eww! Geez, Harry, you know I don't like Ron more than a friend..."
"Who, than?" Harry asked, pre-deciding that he wasn't approving of anyone she would name. However, she named no one.
"Ahh!" She said in an overly loud voice. "Look, there's the door!" She was pointing upwards, and for a second, Harry thought she'd finally lost her mind - until he saw the trap door above.
"Descendio!" She said, pointing at it with her wand. The door opened, and a rope ladder unfurled and fell to a few inches above the stone-hewn floor. They climbed up.
The subject of Hermione's crush momentarily forgotten, they peered uncertainly around the room. They were the first ones there, despite it being only two minutes before class. Harry hoped his classmates hadn't gotten too lost...
"Weird looking place, isn't it?" Hermione whispered to him. Harry coughed in answer, choking on the overly scented, stuffy smell. The room itself was circular, it's walls covered with uninteresting, red and black carpets. In the place of regular desks or tables, squat tables and beanbags sat, all facing a large overstuffed chair with an pink, fringed lamp emitting a soft glow. There was no teacher in sight.
"Yeah," Harry replied, taking a seat in a blue beanbag next to where they'd entered. "I wonder what the class will be like..." They continued to make small talk, noting the lack of books and the abundance of what seemed to be teacups and round balls.
Slowly, students trickled in, the last of them (a disoriented looking Dean) coming in a good ten minutes late. Ron, again, sat next to Dean and Seamus.
When he'd gotten settled, the teacher finally made herself known.
"Good afternoon, my dears," came a voice from the dim back of the classroom. A woman stepped out of the shadows, looking more apart of her room than humanoid. She was dressed in multiple layers of Middle-Eastern looking shawls and a long, periwinkle skirt that reminded Harry unpleasantly of Aunt Petunia's favorite blouse. Her eyes were covered by round glasses, which were so thick and smudged that you couldn't see her eyes. She raised her arms for effect: "Welcome to Divination."
I have a feeling I'm not going to like this class, was his last thought before the "lesson" began.
A/N: Sorry for the late update... I've been extremely busy.
However, I will try to update as soon as I can!!!
Reviews are encouraging for a fast update, and very much appreciated... *hint hint wink wink*
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~AQUAHINA