Moonstruck Madness: Chapter 10
The Day Before the Incident
"Why were you lurking under our window?"
"Yes - yes, good point, Petunia! What were you doing under our windows, boy?"
"Listening to the news," said Harry in a resigned voice.
His aunt and uncle exchanged looks of outrage.
"Listening to the news! Again?"
"Well, it changes every time, you see," said Harry.
~Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
"Anne, are you alright? You look a bit green."
"It must be a Friday," Harry heard Anne mutter to Hermione after a particularly grueling Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
He wondered if he wasn't the only one getting headaches from Professor's Quirrell's class. Truth be told, the man seemed scared of his own shadow, and his stutter made his teaching sound unconvincing. And there was something about that room that left Harry with a pounding head after the hour was over.
Ron and Gilbert stumbled out of the classroom behind Harry.
"Arabian prince my foot," Ron grumbled. "There's enough garlic in that thing to make his breath stink for the rest of his life."
Gilbert suddenly jumped in realization. He started running towards the west wing of Hogwarts, calling over his shoulder, "You guys go ahead, I'll be back in a jiffy!"
"Hey—mate, where're you going off to? Lunch starts in a ten minutes!"
Gilbert was already out of sight.
Harry sighed. Gilbert had been acting rather off ever since that day he got back from the lake. Actually, he'd been acting pretty strangely ever since their first classes. The minute they'd get out of class, he'd be extremely tired, which proved to be rather problematic. Just the other day, he'd tried to cut his dinner with the wrong end of his knife.
"Eh—Gilbert?"
"What is it?" he asked blearily. He was struggling to keep his eyes open.
"Erm—I don't think you're doing that right, Gilbert," said Harry cautiously.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't think you're supposed to cut that with the handle..."
Gilbert blinked in apparent surprise. He stared at his knife with a bemused expression. "Oh."
Of course, that incident didn't escape Professor McGonagall's eyes, and she started watching him closely all throughout the meal. She had been doing that more often lately.
Granted, Hogwarts itself was pretty out of the ordinary, but lately, things just didn't seem to be quite right. Everyone seemed to be on edge. For some reason, Harry had a bad feeling about the upcoming Halloween feast.
But things had really started getting progressively stranger and more mysterious since that first day of classes…
Ron banged against the unyielding door frustratedly. "Darn it! Open, won't you?" It refused to budge. "Please?" he tacked on hopefully.
Harry asked uncertainly, "Ron, are you sure this is the right way?"
"Well, I think this is the second floor. Besides, we've been wandering around for half an hour, and this is the only door we've come across!" Come on already, we—need—to—get—to-class!" Each word was punctuated with a kick to the door. Ron crumpled up a square of parchment in his fist. "I bet this was all a bluff," he muttered darkly, "I'm going to kill Fred and George—"
"Trespassing, are we?"
The three boys spun around to find Filch and Mrs. Norris. The cat eyed the trio with a nasty glint in her eyes.
"Oh my, rebellious little first years, I see. Think the third floor corridor restriction is below you, do you?" he said unpleasantly.
Ron nearly jumped out of his skin. "…Third floor?" he mumbled sheepishly.
The caretaker cackled with apparent glee to find that first years were already in trouble. He began an escalating tirade about the excrutiatingly painful methods of discipline he could induce, before he frowned, suddenly. "As it is, old Dumbledore wouldn't approve. But," his eyes lit up again with more than a hint of malicious intent, "I could give you detentions. In fact, I'll oversee them myself-" The trio gulped.
"Mr. P-P-Potter? Mr. Weasley? Mr. B-Blythe? S-shouldn't you already b-be in class?" Professor Quirrell approached the group of four in surprise.
"Professor Quirrell!" Harry cried in relief.
"These three were caught trying to sneak into the out-of-bounds corridor during class time! They should at least by penalized with a detention—"
"We told you, we got lost! We didn't know this was the third floor corridor!"
"You think I'd fall for that? I know your type—sneaky little brats—"
"W-well then I d-don't see the p-problem," Quirrell interjected nervously. "T-these three s-simply g-got lost. A-anyhow, they d-didn't manage t-to get p-past the door. N-no harm done, eh, A-Argus?"
"But, Professor Quirrell! these trespassers were clearly breaking the rules-!"
"C-come a-along now, boys," Professor Quirrell stuttered. He herded Gilbert, Harry, and Ron onto a narrow staircase. Harry let out a sigh of relief he hadn't known he'd been holding.
The moving staircase settled onto the floor with a thump, and Quirrell squeaked frightfully. "J-just down that hall, t-to the right." Quirrell directed, once the staircase had stopped moving.
"Thank you, Professor," Gilbert said gratefully.
Gilbert turned to get off the narrow staircase, but ended up accidentally trodding on Harry's foot instead.
"Oh, sorry, Harry—"
Harry's overfilled bag lost hold of the telescope they were going to use that night. In vain, Harry tried to reach for it before the telescope could slip his fingers, but it was too late.
Harry cringed in anticipation, waiting for the sickening crash at the end of the telescope's descent.
But he never saw the telescope plummet over the side of the staircase, nor did he hear the sound of breaking glass and metal parts they expected.
Professor Quirrell caught the telescope in one hand with surprising agility. He offered the textbook back to Harry with a shaky smile.
Ron looked impressed. "Nice snag, Professor!"
The Professor stuttered in answer, "S-second door to the r-right. S-see you all s-soon," As he left the trio, he wrung his hands worriedly as if he'd rather hide under a rock instead of teaching his first class of the year.
"Strange man he is," Ron said, as they ran for the Transfigurations classroom. "People say he hasn't been the same since he came back from some expedition in Romania."
Harry's brows furrowed in deep thought. When his hand had brushed against Quirrell's for a split second, he had felt a sharp, painful twinge in his forehead—not unlike the feeling during the opening feast.
"Come on, Harry! Hurry up already! Professor McGonagall will blow her top if she sees we're late!" called Gilbert.
They raced into the classroom, and to their relief, found no angry professor to berate then.
Ron panted. "We made it. McGonagall hasn't gotten here yet."
Hermione, who was seated next to where Harry was standing, said in a know-it-all voice, "Well, actually—"
She was stopped by Anne, who placed a hand on her arm, shaking her head. Harry was suddenly very aware of the grey cat sitting primly on Professor McGonagall's desk. She had silver markings around her face, like spectacles.
"Can you imagine the look on old McGonagall's face if we were late?"
Suddenly, the cat leaped off the desk, transforming into a somewhat irate Professor McGongall.
Gilbert's eyes bugged out of its sockets, and Ron seemed equally awed.
He gasped, "That was bloody brilliant!"
The professor answered sternly, "Mind your language please, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps it would be more helpful if I were to transfigure Mr. Potter, Mr. Blythe and yourself into alarm clocks? That way, one of you might be on time."
"Sorry, Professor, we got lost." Gilbert said apologetically.
She peered at the three over her spectacles. Harry had the feeling that it wouldn't be a smart decision to cross Professor McGonagall. "Then perhaps a map? I don't suppose you need one to find your seats." The Slytherin half of the class tittered.
The three boys took their seats as quickly as possible. The class was sharply divided in the middle – Gryffindors on the right, Slytherins on the left. Ron and Harry sat together at the table beside Hermione and Anne on the Gryffindor side, reluctantly leaving Gilbert to sit alone on the Slytherin side. The only unoccupied desk was unfortunately situated right in front of Malfoy and one of his goons. Ron turned around in his seat, sheepishly mouthing 'sorry'.
With a sharp rap from the front of the classroom, their first Transfigurations class started.
After McGonagall gave a strict warning to the class, she gave a demonstration by changed her desk into a pig and back again. Gilbert very impressed and were eager to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time.
After taking a lot of very theoretical and complicated notes, each student was given a match and was told to try turning it into a needle. Gilbert eyed his match skeptically. Ron chanted the incantation, hazardously waving his wand around straight at his match, but with no result. He repeated the incantation, with a similar lack of result. Ron made a frustrated noise.
"You have to picture it," Gilbert heard Hermione instruct him impatiently, after dodging Ron's flailing arm. "Imagine the needle." Obviously, there was a whole lot more to magic than just waving around a stick of wood and saying a silly phrase.
Gilbert closed his eyes, seeing a sharp, thin needle in his mind. He imagined the woody matchstick turning silver, its red tip sharpening to a point. He feel the magic coursing through his wand as he said the incantation, but just as his magic was about to transfigure the matchstick, his power simply shorted out with a disappointing crackling noise. Gilbert frowned.
"Glaring at your matchstick won't transfigure it any faster, Mr. Blythe," said Professor McGonagall, coming up behind him. "Give it another try."
Gilbert obliged, with an even less response from his wand than before.
Professor McGonagall's lips thinned into a frown as well. "See me after class, Mr. Blythe. Meanwhile, keep trying. Visualize it."
By the end of the lesson, Hermione Granger had nearly gotten the entire needle. Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile. Anne had only been a little farther behind —she was only missing the end of her needle. They were the only two to make a substantial progress with their matches. But the entire class had made some progress. Even Neville managed to get his matchstick more rounded. Everyone except Gilbert.
McGonagall had taken his wand after class to inspect, but she found everything in working condition. She told him not to worry, Transfiguration was sometimes difficult to visualize properly– not everyone got it in the first class—and told him to keep practicing.
But Gilbert couldn't help but feeling a little worried. It would be a rather large issue if he couldn't get his magic to respond. He left the Transfiguration classroom with a note from McGonagall to his next teacher, and a troubled expression.
The rest of his classes went without a hiccup, and Gilbert seemed to be able to do magic just fine. Why was Transfiguration being troublesome? He wondered if it had anything to do with the time travelling. He noticed Anne seemed to be reluctant in Charms class, and something seemed to be holding her back.
Before long, Friday rolled around, but of course, the weekend never started without a bang. Friday had been one of those days – one of terrible days you thought couldn't get any worse—and then it did.
Whispers followed Harry absolutely everywhere. He couldn't turn a corner, eat during meals, or even tie his shoe without someone interrupting him to ask an awkward question, or whisper loudly, "Over there! It's the Boy-Who-Lived!"
One intimidating girl asked him excitedly if he would give her a lock of his hair. She seemed to think it was a vital ingredient in a luck potion. Harry declined with a stammer, despite the fact that she looked like she'd strangle him if he said no.
All the attention was making him feel rather claustrophobic.
He was grateful for Ron and Gilbert, though. They distracted him from his sudden popularity, and he could at least pretend he didn't notice people pointing at him.
It was Friday, and the Gryffindor first years were trying to get to Potions class. The hallway before the staircase down to their classroom was horribly crowded – students were jostling each other, each trying to get to their own classes.
Harry barely noticed when Anne Shirley was sent flying straight at him.
"Oof!" she winced at the impact of the crash. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry, Harry, I—"
The apology died on her lips when she spotted who he was standing next to. She threw Gilbert an icy look. "My apologies, Mr. Potter," she restated stiffly, before pushing through the crowd with Hermione in her wake.
"Geez, what's got her knickers in a twist?" huffed Ron. "Mate, what did you do to her to get her that mad at you?"
"Nothing!" said Gilbert, a little too loudly.
Lavender Brown, whom Harry had noticed had been staring at Gilbert, stared giggling, whispering excitedly with Parvati Patil.
"Hey—Gilbert," Ron nudged him. "I think Lavender's taken an interest in you," he teased.
Gilbert turned red. "Don't be silly, Ron."
Potions lessons took place in one of the lowest levels of Hogwarts - down in one of the dungeons. It was more than a couple of degrees chillier down there than up in the main castle. It was one of the more confusing hallways to navigate – the labyrinth of dark corridors left even the Gryffindors reluctant to explore it.
Not that they could have, anyway. If Professor Snape ever found a Gryffindor was snooping around, he'd kill him for potions ingredients. And then stick him next the the rest of the pickled animals floating in glass jars lined up against walls.
Snape started role call immediately, not waiting for any last minute stragglers.
He worked steadily down the list in a monotone, before pausing at Harry's name.
"Ah, Yes," he said silkily, "Harry Potter. Our new — celebrity."
Draco Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle snickered behind their hands. Snape closed the small booklet with the roll call list with an audible snap. His dark eyes, emotionless eyes scanned the class. Harry refrained from squirming. Those eyes made him think of dark, empty tunnels, of being sucked into oblivion.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began softly. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but in the deafening silence of the classroom, every word could be heard. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will truly understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... "
Silence continued after Snape's introduction. Harry raised an eyebrow at Ron over his shoulder, who looked equally freaked out. Hermione Granger was nearly jumping out of her seat, seeming desperate to prove herself.
Snape's piercing eyes locked on Harry, and without any sort of prelude, he asked him for the answer to various compounds and ingredients he'd never heard of. At the end of the room, Hermione's hand shot up again and again, stretching as high in the air as it would go. The Slytherins were trying to stifle their laughter.
"One last try. What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
…A what? Harry didn't have an inkling of an idea. "I don't know, sir."
"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" He gave Harry a long, contempt look. Harry refused to look away from cold eyes. No matter the fact that he grown up with Muggles, Harry now knew he wasn't especially far behind most of his classmates. He skimmed through his books in what little free time he had at the Dursleys', but did Snape honestly expect him to memorize his cover front-to back? Obviously, Hermione had. She was hovering a couple of inches above her seat, her hand quivering.
"Tut, tut — fame clearly isn't everything, is it now, Mr. Potter?" he leered.
"But I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"
A few brave souls laughed, including Seamus Finnegan, who was sitting next to Ron. He gave Harry an encouraging wink. Snape, however, was less than pleased.
He called Hermione a know-it-all before sharply ordering her back to her seat.
Snape added, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."
"For your information, Potter, a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also -"
Sir," Anne Shirley interrupted with a steely expression. "Monkshood and bezoars are in the 5th year curriculum. First years don't study them."
"Be quiet, you insolent girl!" he snapped. "That's another point from Gryffindor."
Her cheeks flaming, Anne looked like she was about to do something she would regret. "Don't—it's not worth it," Hermione whispered quickly to her before she flew off the handle. Anne calmed herself. Hermione was right. But that didn't stop her anger from bubbling at the surface.
Things didn't improve for the as the lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and gave them instructions to making a simple boil-curing potion.
Snape had paired Hermione up with Ron, to their mutual displeasure, leaving Anne to work with Neville.
Anne crushed her snake fangs with venom. How could one man be so hateful, so unjust, so unkind? Worst of all, she could just tell that he wasn't saying her name with an 'e'. He clearly didn't like children, so why in the world did he bother teaching?
He reminded her unpleasantly of Mr. Phillips. But at least Mr. Phillips had the emotional capacity to make eyes at Prissy Andrews. Professor Snape was simply a cold and unfeeling man. She felt a tiny twinge of sympathy for the Slytherins, but not enough to stop her from being angry. Anne had a sudden, burning desire to lob a cauldron at someone- anyone. Snape would be preferable, but that wouldn't go over well—
"Um, Anne?" asked Neville hesitantly.
"What is it?" she answered irritably.
"A-are you alright?" he stammered. He looked concerned.
Anne glanced down at the snake fangs, which she had crushed to a fine powder. She sighed in frustration. It wasn't right to take her anger out on Neville. The poor boy seemed terrified enough of Snape.
"I'm sorry, Neville," she said more gently, "I didn't mean to snap. People are always telling me to think before I talk, but sometimes that's just so difficult to remember, don't you think?"
He offered her a small smile. "D'you think I can add the nettles now?"
He took the potion that he had started while Anne was in her rage, and put it back on the fire. Anne's eyes widened in horror, and pushed Neville's arm away before it could drop in the nettles.
"Oh, Neville! You're not supposed to put the nettles in while it's still boiling! Nettles explode under heat!"
Neville looked paralyzed. "Oh," he squeaked.
"Anyhow," she continued, "We've forgotten the snake fangs—"
Meanwhile, Snape swept around the classroom in his long black cloak, watching them brew the potion, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to favor. Anne had a sneaking suspicion he ordered extra-long cloaks specifically for that purpose.
He had been just telling everyone that Malfoy's perfectly stewed horned slugs were an example for everyone, when clouds of putrid yellow smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon.
Harry and Gilbert's cauldron was a twisted mess, and their potion, which had nearly been the right color momentss ago, was seeping across the floor. The liquid burned through the the soles of Anne's shoes, before she leapt onto a stool. The rest of the class did the same within seconds
Gilbert and Harry had somehow managed to pull themselves out of the way before the potion exploded in their faces.
"Imbeciles!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the nettles before stirring twice?"
"N-No sir," answered Gilbert. "We—"
"Never mind that!" Snape snapped. "Start over. I expect another potion by the end of class if you two want credit."
He glared at Harry suspiciously, seeming to want to say more, but he couldn't very well accuse Harry of foul play while making his own potion.
Gilbert opened his mouth to retort, but Harry nudged him
"Don't push it," he muttered, "I heard Snape can get pretty nasty."
As they climbed the staircase to the Great Hall an hour later, Harry's spirits were low. They'd collectively lost two points for Gryffindor, and it was only the first week. He and Gil had gotten zeros for the day because they didn't have enough time to finish their potion. What's more, he suspected the Potions accident was no accident at all. And that Snape was fully aware of that. What did Snape have against him?
"Aw-Cheer up, Harry," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George."
"I think Malfoy put something in our cauldron." Gilbert said suddenly. [1]
Ron looked at him incredulously. "Malfoy's a git alright, but you have to admit, that's a little far-fetched. How could he have done that? He was sitting on the other side of the room."
"He sat next to me in Transfigurations," he said quietly. "And we used my cauldron. Harry, did you look into our cauldron before we started the potion?"
Harry slapped his forehead. "No," he admitted.
"That jerk!" grumbled Ron. "Shouldn't have expected anything less from a Slytherin. When I get my hands on him-"
"Let's not talk about it, Ron," said Gilbert. "We won't have to see the old bat's face for another week, right? As for Malfoy, we'll come up with something to get him back." He grinned. "You've got pretty darn fast reflexes, Harry. Our Quidditch team will be invincible next year." Gilbert had gotten rather obsessed with the game ever since Ron and introduced it to him.
Then he asked, "Say, Harry, can we meet Hagrid with you?"
After dinner, Ron, Harry and Gilbert had half an hour before five, when they were scheduled to meet Hagrid. Gilbert was the one to come up with any idea to pass the time.
"Hey, you guys want to come down to the lake with me for a while?"
"Sure," said Ron, "Why the lake?" he asked curiously.
Gilbert shrugged. "Dunno. Reminds me of home, in a way. I used to go fishing a lot."
They sprawled out on the soft grass next to the lake. Gilbert tried to study his history textbook at first, but he gave up after a vicious water war between Harry and Ron started. He joined in, careful to leave his books farther away.
Half an hour later, and with all three boys much wetter than they we re when they had left the building, Harry, Ron, and Gilbert made their way to the grounds where Hagrid lived. After a few minutes of walking, they could see the little hut he lived at, near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Gilbert rifled through his bag before realizing something. "Oh, fiddlesticks," he muttered. "You two go ahead," said Gilbert, to Harry and Ron. ""I'll meet you at Hagrid's hut, alright?" He turned back to the lake hastily.
"Huh? What's the matter, mate?" asked Ron.
"I left my history textbook at the lake!" he called over his shoulder.
And things started to go plummeting downhill after he found Anne Shirley dangling over the side of the lake.
[1] Why didn't the potion explode sooner? Eh… because Harry and Gil are incredibly slow at cutting ingredients. Or maybe the heat caused it to act up.
A/N:
We're baaack! Sorry for the very long wait.
We tried to make this chapter largely Harry-centric, for those of you who have commented that he doesn't seem to be a prominent enough character.
Also, there's a bit of Snape here, and expect more in the future. (Just for you, random reviewer on a bender. :P)
DON'T FORGET to vote on the Moonstruck poll on our profile!
Once again, thank you so much to all our reviewers!
random reviewer on a bender: Mentioning the trials wasn't for the purpose of creating drama centering around religion. You're right: Anne was born after the witch trials (and a couple thousand miles north of where they were happening, too), but she has probably had history classes involving them. The reference was just a bit of Anne's wild imagination.
Yay! you caught the connection in the squid scene. ^.^ Yes, it'd have been a lot more disastrous if Hermione had fainted while she was still in the water...
And we put in Snape! He's kind of a jerk, though...but hopefully, that'll change.
justdroppedby: Anne hasn't really gotten that many scenes for herself. But still, she probably should talk more... ah well. There's a lot more opportunities for Anne to go on an Anne-like rant.
Aileen Gee: We're working on that, thanks for the tip! But hopefully, we get a little leeway with leaving Harry out a bit because Gil and Anne are the main characters..
Marie Ravenclaw: Sorry, now that we think about it, saying how long we're planning to continue this might actually spoil part of the plot. We're glad you liked the story, though. :)
ariedling: haha, why must Snape make a love potion?
In a way, Anne kind of goes looking for trouble too - unintentionally.
Dontmezwitme: hehe, she almost cracked a caulderon over his head. Don't worry, Anne will get her chance. (It's nice to know other people besides Junie and l00ny love that slate-over-head scene altogether too much. ^.^ )
Edit 10/7/12: We made Hermione Ron's partner to make things simpler later, because he'd mysteriously disappeared during that scene for no reason whatsoever.