Chapter Four: Something Bad, Part One

DOCTOR DILLAMOND

(spoken) Oh, Miss Elphaba - The things one hears these

days. Dreadful things:

(sung) I've heard of an Ox,

A professor from Quox

No longer permitted to teach

Who has lost all powers of speech

And an Owl in Munchkin Rock

A vicar with a thriving flock

Forbidden to preach

Now he can only screech!

Only rumors - but still -

Enough to give pause

To anyone with paws

Something bad is happening in Oz:

ELPHABA

Something bad? Happening in Oz?

DILLAMOND

Under the surface

Behind the scenes

Something baaaaaaad:

(spoken) Sorry: "Bad":

ELPHABA(spoken) Doctor Dillamond - If something bad is happening

to the Animals, someone's got to tell the Wizard.

That's why we have a Wizard.

(sung) So nothing bad.

DILLAMOND

(spoken) I hope you're right:

BOTH Nothing all that bad:

DILLAMOND

Nothing truly baaaaaad:.

(spoken) Sorry: "Bad":

ELPHABA

It couldn't happen here

In Oz:

The next day…

"So, you don't have classes today?" Lavender asked lightly.

"No," Hermione said from her bed where she was curled up with Advanced Arithmancy.

"What a shame…"

"I find that hard to believe," Hermione retorted.

"I wasn't talking about me, you idiot." She paused for dramatic effect.

"I was talking about Ron."

"So what?" Hermione turned the page of her book.

"Didn't we already go over this? I swear, for a freaky genius you are so DUMB!"

"Said the blonde," Hermione remarked dryly.

Lavender's hand went automatically to her hair and she stroked her blonde curls protectively.

"He'll notice if you don't come to class," Lavender decided to let the jibe go in the interest of payback.

"Are you serious?" Hermione finally looked up from her book and fixed an incredulous look on Lavender.

"He's crazy about you, Hermione. How many times do I have to tell you?" Lavender stood up from her vanity table and picked up her book bag. She gave a huge, theatrical sigh and said, "I normally don't do this, you being all, ugh and everything, but I do help the boy-clueless occasionally. Try sitting next to him in Potions today. Oh, and here, wear a bit of this." She rummaged in her book bag and produced a small bottle of what looked like perfume. Lavender had to congratulate herself. It had taken her the better part of an hour to convince little Colin Creevey to go out and collect the sneezewort she used to make the perfume, but it was totally worth it. The perfume caused everyone to start sneezing uncontrollably and the effects could last for two to three days.

"Thanks," Hermione said, suspiciously.

"My limit is now up for my random acts of kindness today," Lavender warned her. "I am in no way obligated to be nice to you at all today." And with that, she turned on her heel and marched out of the dormitory for her famous dramatic exit.

After she left, Hermione put down her book and sniffed the perfume carefully. She sneezed violently again and again. After she had cleared her head, Hermione tried to analyze what she had just smelled. It was a rather peculiar scent and it triggered an alarm in Hermione's head. And Lavender's unusual concern, perturbed her slightly too. She gave a huge sniff and she suddenly realized what the smell was—sneezewort!

"That little bitch!" Hermione cursed. This called for some revenge. She looked around and spotted Lavender's real perfume bottle on the desk. The witch would probably recognize it right away if Hermione simply switched the perfumes, so she would have to be sneakier about the switch.

She got up from her bed and crossed over to Lavender's side. They both had put wards up on their sides of the room, but Lavender's was easily broken. Not that Hermione really liked going on Lavender's side of the room—it gave her the creeps. But this was business, so she concentrated all her efforts on the perfume switch.

Thankfully, the bottle had never been opened so she wouldn't have to guess how much was left after she had, erm, modified it. She poured the real perfume into a conjured bowl and poured half the sneezewort into the bottle. Hermione then poured some rose oil into the perfume so the bottle was three-fourths full. The rose oil would mask the sneezing side effect of the perfume for about twenty-four hours then the sneezing property would double in power and cause frenzied sneezing for an entire week! She filled the bottle up to the top with the real perfume and resealed the bottle with her wand. The real perfume and bowl was vanished and the rest of the sneezewort perfume bottle was conveniently smashed against the bathroom wall when Hermione "tripped" on the bath rug.

Hermione smiled deviously when she saw the innocent-looking perfume bottle sitting on Lavender's desk when she left the room for the Potions class.

Revenge was so much sweeter served red-hot.

But an hour later, Hermione was sprinting out of the Potions classroom with tears streaming down her face. She had never been more embarrassed in her entire life. She ran down to Hagrid's hut with tears in her eyes, hoping to find some sympathy from the friendly gamekeeper, but to her dismay, he was out doing something. Not feeding the Thestrals or in Hogsmeade, but out doing something and no matter how much she asked the pudgy, round-faced boy sitting next to her on the steps to Hagrid's hut, he would not, or could not elaborate.

Hermione was feeling very tetchy. She didn't want this thing to touch her. She could sense that it was very unintelligent, dirty and sticky and if there were three adjectives Hermione hated more than Lavender, it was those three. She had always associated them with children and therefore it was very disconcerting when they were emanating from a boy her age.

His name was Neville Longbottom, and other than displaying the three aforementioned adjectives, he was also a very touchy-feely, courteous gentleman who unfortunately felt that it was his duty to stay and comfort her, no matter how much Hermione longed for him to leave.

"You don't have to stay," Hermione said stiffly. "Actually, it would be fantastic if you would leave. Now."

"But, you're crying," Neville protested.

"I'm fine." Hermione tried to glare, but it came out all watery.

"No, you aren't," Neville said right back, but he seemed a little nervous from being so close to the infamous wicked witch of Gryffindor.

"You're bringing this upon yourself," Hermione said tartly. "You're going to be ridiculed, exiled, hated for this."

"For this?" Neville looked confused.

"Are you stupid or something?" Hermione demanded. "No one likes me, and therefore they'll think that you're daft for trying to help me."

"No they won't," Neville tried to scoff, but he was cut off by a severe look from Hermione.

"Yes, Neville, they will."

"I'm not afraid." He raised his chin defiantly.

"Yes, you are," Hermione sighed, and all the fight seemed to go out from her. "You all are."

Neville didn't seem to be able to answer and so he remained silent. He fidgeted with tie for a while before asking uncomfortably, "So… Um, do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Hermione said immediately. She lay back against the stairs and looked up at the sky.

"Are you sure? It helps, sometimes," he said awkwardly.

"Not with me," Hermione said calmly.

"How can you be so sure?" Neville asked.

"When I confess my feelings, they are always used against me," Hermione said surely, as if stating a fact.

"Oh," Neville said uneasily. There was a pause.

"I won't tell anyone," he said shyly.

Hermione turned her head to look at him. "Thanks." The biting sarcasm was lost on Neville.

"So, do you want to talk about it?" he asked again.

There was another long silence before,

"Did your mom ever read you the story, The Wizard of Oz?"

Neville shook his head. "No. What is it?"

"It's this book by a Muggle, Frank L. Baum. It's pretty good for a Muggle fairytale. Remus used to read it to me all the time."

"Was Remus your dad?"

"No. He was my mother's lover."

"Oh. So, what about it?"

"It's about this girl, Dorothy. She's this poor, lonely farm girl from America who lives in this boring little town in this place called Kansas with her Auntie Em and Uncle Henry. She had this horrible little dog named Toto, who her equally horrible neighbor hated, so she decides to run away. But she gets hit on the head and instead she has this fantastic daydream.

"A tornado carries her house "over the rainbow" and into this magical land of Oz. Well, when she lands, she kind of squashes the Wicked Witch of the East. And they're all celebrating the wicked witch's death when Glinda, the Good Witch, comes. Dorothy tells her that she really wants to go home, so Glinda tells her to put on the wicked witch's sparkly shoes and follow the yellow brick to the Emerald City to go meet the Wizard of Oz. So she and her stupid little dog follow the road to the Emerald City. And on the way she meets the Cowardly Lion, the Tin Man, and the Scarecrow. The Cowardly Lion really wants courage, the Tin Man wants a heart and the Scarecrow wants some brains, so they decide to travel to the Emerald City together to go see the Wizard of Oz.

"A bunch of things happen, but to make a long story short, they make it to the City. Except there's a catch—the Emerald City isn't really green, it's only green because all the citizen's are made to wear green-tinted glasses and the Wizard will only give them what they want if they go kill the Wicked Witch of the East's sister, the Wicked Witch of the West.

"So, some things happen, and Dorothy throws a bucket of water on the Witch and she melts and dies, so they go to the Wizard to claim their prize. The Cowardly Lion gets his "courage," the Tin Man gets his "heart," and the Scarecrow gets his "brains." Everyone's happy. Except Dorothy."

"Why?" Neville asked. He had been silent throughout the entire story.

"Because the Wizard wasn't a real Wizard. He was an imposter." Hermione sighed and stared at the sky again.

"But I thought you said that the other people got what they wanted. Why not Dorothy?"

"Because what Dorothy wanted was real. The Wizard had tricked the Cowardly Lion, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow into believing that they really had courage, brains, and a heart. By making them believe that he had cured them, they really did get what they wanted. But Dorothy didn't want to be tricked. All she wanted was to get home."

"So what happens?" Neville asked.

"She clicks her sparkly shoes together three times and goes home." Hermione smiled blissfully.

"Too bad I don't have any magical shoes, huh?"

"Uh, yeah… Sorry, but I don't get it. What has that story have to do with anything?"

"I'm the Scarecrow, Neville. I've been tricked into thinking that I had a heart, when all along I was really Dorothy missing her sparkly shoes."

"Oh! I get it!" Neville looked gleeful at this revelation for a moment before sobering up. "So, who's the Wizard?"

"Lavender," Hermione growled.

"Lavender did that?" Neville looked surprised.

"Don't act so surprised," Hermione snorted. "You'll make me laugh."

"She couldn't have done something that mean," Neville protested.

"Yes, she could, would, and did," Hermione said. "Why are you so in denial?"

"Well, that makes me the Scarecrow then," Neville said dejectedly.

"Why?" Hermione queried.

"Well, um… I don't know how to say this but IthinkthatIfancyLavender."

"Repeat. Slowly," Hermione said.

"I fancy Lavender," Neville squeaked. When Hermione laughed, he begged, "Please, don't tell anyone!"

"I won't," Hermione assured him. "I'm not as half as evil as you all think I am."

"No, you just act like it," Neville muttered and to his utmost surprise, she laughed.

"Maybe I do," she conceded.

"So what else happened?" Neville asked.

"What do you mean 'what else happened?' Lavender humiliated me. That's it."

"No, that's not all of it, I know. You're pretty infamous for not ever backing down… or crying… or ever showing any emotion. Why did she get to you?"

"This week has been tough," Hermione admitted grudgingly.

"Tell me," Neville insisted. "It couldn't have been that bad."

"Well, for starters, my mother died," Hermione said tartly.

Neville gasped. "That's horrible! I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay, you know? I was kind of expecting it." She gave a half-smile and shrugged.

"What was her name?" Neville asked.

"Elaine," Hermione said. "Pretty, isn't it? Everyone in my family but me got a normal name. Richard, Elaine, Rose, Killian, Mark. Remus and I are the ones who get the total nut-job names—"

"Elaine… Granger?" Neville asked slowly.

"Yeah."

"My mother used to talk to an Elaine Granger!" he said, a bit faster. "She lived down the road! She had two daughters before they moved! And my mother used to bring me over to play sometimes!"

"We used to play together?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Yeah, weird, isn't it?"

"Very weird." Hermione sat up, wiped her eyes for a final time and got up.

"I'm going to go back up to the tower now. Everyone must be at lunch now, I'm going to sneak in while I can."

"Oh, okay," Neville said and got up too. "I'd better go to the greenhouses. I'm helping Professor Sprout."

"Okay." She turned to leave, then looked back quickly.

"Not a word of this to anyone, understand?" she snapped, and the difficult, prickly Hermione Granger was back.

"My lips are sealed," Neville promised her. As she marched back to the castle, Neville couldn't help but shake his head. The Wicked Witch of Hogwarts was back.