A/N: A big thanks to stella8h8chang for beta-reading this chapter (as she has the other chapters).
In case anyone was wondering, Luna referred to Aquavirius Maggots in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. They were, apparently, the brains that attacked Ron Weasley in the Dept. of Mysteries. And the football cheer in the last section is "We are the Geordies," for Newcastle Utd. They are, obviously, Terry Boot's favorite team (said with tongue firmly in cheek)!
I own nothing. Rated T for strong language.
Chapter 22: New Perspectives
The violent turn Dark Arts had taken really came as no surprise to the students. Nor had the direction that Alecto Carrow had decided to take with Muggle Studies.
Ginny eyed the room in disgust. When Professor Charity Burbage had taught the course, the room had always been filled with odd contraptions, none of which could work since the Muggle alternative to magic — eckeltricity — didn't work in Hogwarts.
But Ginny had always had a smile on her face as she spied telly-fissons and batteries and cords of various lengths in Professor Burbage's classroom. One day, during a unit on Muggle means of communication, she had brought in several different felly-tones for them to play with.
However, Alecto Carrow had made sure that her mark on the curriculum was felt. Ginny had held back a gag as she stared in horror at images of Muggle diseases, injuries, and disfigurements. After the first class, she had had to run into the nearest bathroom to dry heave into the toilet. This time, she remained seated, keeping her eyes firmly on the Ravenclaw sitting directly in front of her. Cosima Ramsay, sixth year Gryffindor prefect and one of Ginny's closest friends in Gryffindor, sat next to her, clutching the sleeve of her robes.
" . . . A savage bunch of animals like Muggles don't care whom they kill or whom they spread their incurable diseases to. They engage in incestuous behavior, deviant behavior, violating familial blood bonds, weakening their blood lines. And they force themselves on our kind, taking what isn't theirs in order to spread their diseases and destroy us!"
Ginny's hand shot up in the air; Ursula Beckham and Cosi stared at her in horror; it was the first time a non-Slytherin student had volunteered to say anything in class.
"Professor?" she asked in a cloying voice, "How could Muggles have possibly known about us to destroy us? Isn't there some big, oh, I don't know . . . International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy that prevents Muggles from being aware of our existence?" Ginny narrowed her eyes into daggers, aimed directly at the female Carrow.
Alecto marched right up to her and slapped her across the cheek.
"Did I call on you, blood traitor?" She pushed her face towards Ginny, who rubbed at the right side of her face as Cosima and Ursula surrounded her.
She gritted her teeth and stared back at the Death Eater. "I just wanted to clarify your point. Wouldn't want to spread around any inaccurate information." Her cheek still stung, but she kept her unblinking eyes on Carrow.
She sneered at Ginny and turned back around, continuing with her horrible lecture on incurable, debilitating Muggle diseases.
Wednesday morning, at breakfast, Ginny, Seamus, Lavender and Parvati were coordinating schedules so they could visit Neville together during a free period.
Parvati also let them in on the latest bit of news.
"Did you hear?" the Gryffindor prefect leaned forward, her eyes shuffling around the room to make sure no unsavory characters could overhear the conversation. "The Carrows are readying the dungeons again."
Ginny's fork clattered onto her plate. "No!" She bit her lip. "They're going to use them for punishments, aren't they?"
Parvati nodded, her eyes big with worry. "Daphne got word to the prefects about it, and she watched them take a whip to Filch, taunting him as they were ordering him around!"
"Filch?!" Ginny gaped. "But . . . he's the most likely out of the entire old staff of Hogwarts to actually want to whip and punish the students? Why are they—?"
"Ginny, remember . . . Filch is a Squib." Parvati shrugged hopelessly. "I think that means the Carrows and Snape will use him for target practice as well as whipping the students." She winced. "Padma said she noticed him last night with scars all over his face and he was limping." Parvati drew back up and took a very small bite of her toast. Ginny pushed her plate away. She found herself without appetite.
"Hey, change of subject," Seamus said, trying desperately to lighten the mood, "but when d'ya think we can go visit—"
"Whoa! Neville?"
Seamus stopped talking. There were odd whispers coming from the back of the Great Hall.
"Neville? Is . . . is that . . . ?"
"Wait . . . It is Longbottom!"
"Neville!"
The entire Gryffindor contingent of Dumbledore's Army was on their feet first, clapping loudly and fiercely, as Neville Longbottom walked into the Great Hall, face and hands bandaged, but smiling and waving. The rest of Gryffindor stood up only a few seconds later.
Hufflepuff followed, led by their members of the D.A. Ravenclaw got to their feet next, although it was a smaller number; the applause from their table was started by Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, and Padma Patil, and limited only to the sixth and seventh years.
At the Slytherin table, no one stood up. Blaise Zabini merely watched Neville walking into the hall, but with a mild expression on his face. Ginny rather fancied that he looked like he wanted to smile . . . kind of.
Her eyes then fell to one short, dark-haired Slytherin girl, who looked as if she wanted to wither away and die.
Ginny strained to see Daphne Greengrass watch Neville walking down the corridor. And her own eyes grew into saucers as she watched Neville make eye contact with the Head Girl. Neville stopped and turned towards Slytherin's table, making his way over to Daphne.
Daphne remained seated as the Gryffindor stood next to her and leaned over, whispering something. Ginny watched the girl nod several times and Neville patted her on the back. It looked as if Neville squeezed her shoulder once. He smiled as he ended whatever conversation he had had with Daphne. Ginny watched as Daphne wiped at her face as her back and shoulders shook.
And as Neville made his way back to the Gryffindor table, to the group of older Gryffindor students, Ginny caught sight of Amycus Carrow; she realized he was watching Daphne, as she and Neville talked the entire time.
Ginny eyes narrowed suspiciously; there was nothing good that could come out of that.
Once Neville joined the rest of Gryffindor, he turned immediately towards the others. "Since everyone's buzzing now, I think this would be as good a time as any to talk Muggle-borns with them."
They agreed with him, so after dinner on Wednesday, the mass of Gryffindor students, some returning, many of them new, filed in behind him, quiet and attentive, deferring to the seventh years and prefects to lead them to Gryffindor Tower. They arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait. Ginny winced when she saw the guardian of the Gryffindor common room; the Fat Lady eyed the queue nervously.
"P-Pass-w-word?" she gulped. Ginny couldn't think of a time when she had looked so scared. Not since her second year, when Sirius Black was still alive and was rumored to have been a murderer. She remembered the Fat Lady hiding in terror when Sirius slashed her portrait trying to break into the Gryffindor boys' dormitory.
Neville pursed his lips together and with a sneer of disgust and responded to her entreaty. "Pure-blood."
"M-my dears," she managed to get out, despite her trembling, "I hope I am not alone in thinking that all of this is quite atrocious!" She opened up to let them in.
The younger Gryffindors moved almost as a single group and waited for the portrait to slam shut. As soon as they heard the final thud, the noise levels in the room exploded, every student having something they wanted to ask and say.
"Blimey, Neville! Way to make an entrance!"
"You look like hell, mate!"
"Are you in pain? How bad was it?"
"I can't believe that Greengrass bint! Cursing you in class like she did . . ."
Neville smiled and gestured for them to ask their questions one at a time, wincing with discomfort as he brought his arms up. "Thanks, Ritchie, I'm glad that my entrance was inspiring, to say the least," he rolled his eyes but continued grinning. "And Andrew," he said, chuckling, "I was thinking I got enough beauty sleep, but," he gestured to his face, still bruised and bandaged, and two-day old scruff starting to develop, "I probably need a couple of month's longer—"
Seamus smirked, "I'll bet Abbott wouldn't mind."
"And, yes, Demelza," Neville finished, more somberly, "the Cruciatus was that bad, since Carrow meant to do it. And I don't want anyone to walk away with any misconceptions. Daphne Greengrass did not hurt me in any way," he added, raising a finger to them to emphasize his point. "She had to cast the spell on me, but she aimed at my hand, and she could only manage a sting."
Several of the students seemed very surprised about this. "She didn't mean to hex you?"
Neville shook his head vigorously. "One-hundred percent no!"
"She was devastated, in an immense amount of shock when Carrow tortured Neville." Ginny added, and the other Gryffindor seventh years nodded in forceful agreement.
The conversation quickly turned back towards classes, and after a thorough round of abuse of Amycus Carrow, the students began asking questions about Alecto's lesson plans.
"Ginny, the way Alecto Carrow makes it sound, Muggles were savages."
"Yeah, I mean, she's saying that they're cruel. Violating each other, spreading their diseases around."
"People are even saying that they made slaves of each other. Witches and wizards don't treat other magical beings like that!"
"Is it all true? Are Muggles really that cruel? That inhuman?"
The harder questions needed a bit more finesse when answering them. The older Gryffindors cast a large Privacy Charm around the students, in case the portraits in the common room would feel the need to share the information with other portraits around the castle.
"I can't really say that Muggles aren't capable of cruelty, but so are witches and wizards," Ginny offered.
"Look at what happened to me this week," Neville added, shrugging and gesturing to his still-bandaged body. "I'll bet you the witches and wizards who lived through all of our recent wars would say our kind can be violent and bloodthirsty too." He stared at the floor for a few moments, and Ginny didn't have to read his mind to know he was thinking about his parents.
"We can act like a bunch of bloody savages!" Seamus piped up, nodding.
The older Gryffindors involved with the D.A. then steered the conversation towards the war, Muggle-borns, and they talked up Daphne's articles. The conversations resonated with the students too; Daphne's approach in writing the pamphlets, mixing the information with her own brand of humor and plain-spoken style drew the more curious and less judgmental of the students in first.
"Holy shite!" Ritchie Coote exclaimed to the same group. "If all this is really true, that 'The Healer' actually manipulated his research to reach those conclusions about Muggle-borns, then . . . then—"
Parvati nodded. "Then all the ideas that are being talked about by the Ministry, everything the Carrows and Snape believe in, is one-hundred percent false!" She emphasized the last phrase.
Geoffrey Hooper, widely regarded to be the brightest Gryffindor of the fifth years (as well as a bit of a whiner) rubbed his chin. "His research didn't even come close to proving that Muggle-borns aren't naturally magical, did it?" He shook the parchment. "I mean, you can't just say these results are typical when Healer Stallsworth messed around too much with the blood samples."
Vicky Frobisher nodded, her eyes planted on the parchment. She started smiling as she read aloud from her favorite part. "I like this part from, er . . . Miss Mouse, I guess it is . . . 'Going through the extensive pile of research that disproves Stallsworth's conclusions, a disturbing trend appears. Several of the maligned Sanguigeneticists that spoke out against Stallsworth anti-Muggle-born research appeared to have something in common with each other. See if you can figure it out . . .'" Vicky's eyes scanned down the list. She smirked, shook her head, and passed the paper to Demelza Robins, who then read the names out loud.
"'Healer Catherine Wise . . . Blood Researcher and Historian Vera Sagemore . . . Healer Willa Coffrey . . .'" Demelza nodded and shrugged. "Well, I guess in the Healing Arts, the standards of respect are different for you if you're a witch, huh?"
Lavender, Parvati and Ginny all snorted derisively at the observation. As did Vicky.
"My mum's a General Healer at St. Mungo's, and it's been one of her biggest complaints!" she added with a sigh. "She's been trying to get articles published in several Healing journals, but they won't accept her work, no matter how accurate it is or how hard she's worked on it." She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head in frustration.
"These witches and wizards all tried to bring attention to the errors in the Healer's research and methodology, but they've never had the exposure or attention that Stallsworth had." Neville spoke up, at first softly, but his voice grew stronger and more confident as he continued.
"It's barmy, innit?" Seamus asked, nodding.
"Take it from us," Neville said, looking at the other Gryffindors, "this is only scratching the surface." He pointed at the document. "There's a lot more where that information comes from."
"Heh." A couple of boys chuckled. "'Lord Sloth Rectum!'"
Ginny grinned. "See if you can come up with any better names for You-Know-Who. And tell others that you trust, okay? Tell other students that you think might be open to listening to actual facts than those awful lies." She smiled as she watched the groups continue to read the pamphlets, asking for questions and clarification when necessary.
Even better was The Quibbler.
Between the many articles discussing the reality of the war, the latest casualties, and various opinion pieces, all pondering the whereabouts of Harry Potter and rallying support for Undesirable Number One, Friday's edition had printed a slightly edited version of Daphne's The Sedition Act article, giving the publication's Awareness Award to the anonymous "Nonnie Mouse" for . . .
"For uncovering the truth behind the natural magical capabilities of Muggle-borns, not that anyone here at The Quibbler thought otherwise!" Luna chirped brightly. "I did give Father a version with Daphne's more colorful descriptions of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named changed slightly."
Ginny leaned forwards, narrowing her eyes. "Lord Aquavirius Maggots?"
The Ravenclaw nodded. "I know they resemble brains, but they're particularly nasty and slimy things. And they smell rather like month-old fish sitting outside in the summer."
Ginny grimaced and shivered in disgust. She knew all too well what that smelled like, as Fred and George had once tossed a trout into Ron's treehouse during a sweltering July a few years ago.
Throughout the week, Ginny started to realize that the one good thing to come out of Carrow torturing Neville was that all of Dumbledore's Army now had a renewed energy to talk to as many of the younger students as they could about the first issue of The Sedition Act. And she smiled as she started hearing reports from others about Daphne's pamphlets, listening as several of the students started replacing You-Know-Who with nicknames like Lord Turd Blossom and Lord Niffler Poo.
(Daphne always did have a way with the English language!)
Ginny had also found herself preoccupied with another duty; she had been appointed Quidditch Captain by McGonagall, and she thought it would behoove her to at least attempt to put together a decent team.
"Okay, so tryouts are this Saturday." Ginny tacked a parchment announcing when and where and what spots they were looking to fill. She had decided that, if Quidditch was to be played this year, then she was going to take over the spot as Seeker, since she had had enough experience playing that position in the past.
Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke had both asked at the very beginning of the year whether the Quidditch season was on. However, Ginny was rather reluctant to say anything to them about it.
(They had made a right troll's buttocks out of things the past few seasons!)
Ginny had been particularly excited about Demelza's return. Her talents as Chaser had only improved during last year's season, as she had worked hard to compensate for the injuries suffered by Katie Bell from the cursed necklace.
Plus, it was nice to keep the female contingent on the team going as much as possible, what with Angelica, Alicia and Katie having already left Hogwarts. One of Ginny's goals for the team this year was to recruit more witches to play.
Parvati and Lavender came over to read the parchment that Ginny had just posted.
"Will we be seeing you on the pitch Saturday?" Ginny asked, a smirk almost popping out of her face. She couldn't imagine either girl signing up for the sport; Hermione constantly joked that her dorm-mates would never dare engage in any activities that might cause them to break or lose a nail.
But she had noticed once school had begun, Parvati's nails, as well as her and Lavender's faces and hair, seemed more natural these days. They would usually wear their hair in loose plaits and ponytails, and would forego their usual Glamour Charms and other Beautification Spells.
Ginny reckoned that that was all due to the fact that Amycus Carrow had kept leering at them from lunchtime until dinner on their first day. The lasciviousness of his stares was enough for them to put their guards up and, from then on, they made sure that they gave him no invitation to single them out of the group.
Parvati carefully read the parchment. "I'm thinking about it this year." She nudged her head toward her best friend. "But you couldn't get Lavender up on a broom—"
"Hey! Can I help that I'm afraid of heights?"
Parvati giggled. "But," she shrugged, "maybe organized sports would be just the thing to keep my mind off of the nasty stuff going on around here. Doing something that wasn't related to the war, to these creeps, might be exactly what we need, you know?"
Ginny nodded. "Have you played or flown before? Are you any good?" she asked the older girl.
She nodded. "I'm a fair flier. Only thing is that I'm not sure how I'll handle a bunch of balls being thrown in my face—"
Lavender laughed so hard she snorted. "I th-think you'll be just fine with having a bunch of b-balls in your face!" And she continued to laugh and snort.
Parvati just glared at her friend. "Oh, for Circe's sake! Really?!" She shook her head, "You've been with Seamus far too long, Lav." Rolling her eyes, Parvati turned back to Ginny. "Please excuse Lavender as she extracts her mind from the gutter." Lavender wiped the tears of hysterics from her eyes. "So, ten o'clock Saturday on the pitch then?"
Ginny nodded. "Yup! Last one to the pitch is a rotten doxy egg!"
She smiled and wriggled her eyebrows at Parvati . . . and just shook her head in amusement as Lavender tried to compose herself.
Daphne Greengrass was fuming.
It was Friday night, once again, and she was forced to show her angry, furious face at the weekly meeting in the Headmaster's office.
With Snape and Draco "Troll-Head" Malfoy.
As she walked up the steps, she wondered if either wizard would be wise if she decided to cast a Bludgeoning Hex directly to their buttocks.
"What the fucking hell's your deal, Greengrass?" Malfoy hissed at her, just before the gargoyle swirled up to reveal the staircase to the Headmaster's office.
Daphne hissed right back. "I'm sick of this shit! All these bloody games . . . that Carrow bastard tortured Neville!" She practically spat in Malfoy's face. "Don't tell me that didn't get to you, Draco. Don't tell me that, whatever you think about Neville or Gryffindors, there's not a part of you that didn't feel for him."
He snorted. "The fat oaf could barely tolerate it—"
Daphne swerved and rammed her body into Malfoy's. She pointed her wand at his crotch. With a sort of wicked glee, she saw him tremble and turn white.
"Say – that – again, Malfoy," she threatened, "I'll see if you can tolerate it. And trust me," she said, pushing her wand into his trousers, "this time I'll mean it!"
He composed himself and pushed her away. "Don't fool yourself, Greengrass," he sneered. "That wasn't the first time I had seen the Cruciatus performed up close." He looked up the stairs. "We're expected to build a tolerance to it," and his matter – of – fact tone sent chills up Daphne's spine, "and we're expected to have a very intimate relationship with it."
She narrowed her eyes and watched him swallow. "Bet you loved casting it too. Bet you loved making your victim writhe in pain—"
Suddenly, Malfoy raged toward her, slamming his hand into the wall behind her head.
"Try - my - mother!"
Daphne's breath caught in her throat as Malfoy, now enraged, bore his eyes into her; she could almost feel them digging through her brain. "That was my punishment! For not killing Dumbledore with my own hands! 'Narcissa,' he hissed, and my mother stepped forward . . . 'kneel before your son'."
Daphne shivered at the coldness of Draco Malfoy's voice as he imitated You – Know – Who.
"'Draco', he said again," and Malfoy sneered as he continued to speak in the Dark Lord's voice, "'it is necessary for you to learn from your mistakes. It pains me to do this, but know that this-sss-sss'," Malfoy's high-pitched voice slithered out from between his teeth, "'this is punishment for your human weakness'."
"Dr-Draco," Daphne stammered, shaking and sympathetic. "I'm . . . I'm—"
Draco Malfoy looked at her, sucked in a breath, and tore his hand away from the wall. He turned away and said nothing.
"Sorry," Daphne managed to squeak out after a moment.
Malfoy kept his back to her. "Whatever," he muttered to the floor, and continued walking up the stairs, towards the door to the office.
Daphne Greengrass was still shaken as she stopped just behind Draco Malfoy. It was a new feeling from her for the Slytherin boy — compassion. It was scary that, for this brief, infinitesimal amount of time, she actually felt real sympathy for him.
But the rage she had felt earlier came flooding back as she stood face-to-face, once again, with Snape.
"Wel-come," he drawled, and extended his hand so the pair of them could enter his office.
So, Miss Greengrass, Mister Malfoy," Snape began, in that infernally unfeeling voice, once Daphne and Malfoy had gotten settled, "r-rrr-report, please."
Before Malfoy could open his mouth, Daphne let loose her fury and rage on behalf of Neville Longbottom, and her own shock from participating in the demonstration, all on the former Potions Master.
"How dare you!"
Snape merely cocked an eyebrow, nonplussed. "Problem, Miss Greengrass?"
Daphne shot up out of her chair, the "tsk!" from an exasperated Malfoy barely registering. "How can you let this happen? The Carrows?! You know what they did to Neville!" Her fury was increasing, due to the fact that Snape remained, inexplicably, calm. "You know, and yet you do nothing!"
Snape looked at her, his face cold and impassive.
Daphne shook her head, and she walked toward him. Snape remained planted to his spot, his expression still blank.
"Just explain it to me . . . sir." Daphne gritted her teeth; she was certain they'd fall out of her head in a puff of dust. "Explain it to me like I'm bloody twelve. Why . . . are . . . you . . . allowing . . . this? Sir!"
Snape only rolled his eyes and shook his head. His expression remained stony.
Daphne wanted his head to burst open. She wanted to throw something at it.
Almost, as if reading her mind, Snape let a small, sarcastic grin spill across his face. "So, just to get this straight; you don't see the educational value in demonstrations of the Cruciatus Curse on a human target? Given these . . . particular timess-sss?"
It was his final rolling "S" that sent Daphne over the edge. Perhaps hearing Malfoy imitate You – Know – Who and hearing Snape speak in that specific moment, pushed her too far. She stared at Snape with daggers in her eyes and she shook all over, wholly immersed in her fury.
"I shouldn't have expected anything less from a murderer!"
It was as if time stopped . . . and not in the same way that time stopped when Michael Corner kissed her. She heard a sharp intake of breath from Malfoy, and, finally, it was as if she had found the magic phrase that would make Snape react.
He bared his teeth and his face grew red. He shoved his face into hers. "You and Potter! Two ignorant peas in a pod, the both of you are!" He flipped his wand in front of her face. "With one flick of this wand, I can make you ob-sol-eet!" He spat the word through his teeth. "I can make you forget who you are, I can make you relive your worst nightmares, over and over again." He growled and pivoted toward his desk, slamming himself down into his chair.
Just to his right, almost in front of her, Daphne saw a small bit of parchment fall from Snape's sleeve; it appeared to have some swoopy, loopy handwriting that looked like it came from a woman's hand swirling about on it. And a name that looked like "Lily"—
"So, what do we do, about this?"
Daphne's head snapped back up toward Snape.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do about what?"
Just to her left, Draco rolled his eyes.
Snape folded his fingers together, creating five long and elegant peaks which he pressed against his face. He appeared to take no notice of the piece of parchment that had just fallen from his sleeve.
"I fear for the students that share your attitude, Miss Greengrass. First, Mister Longbottom makes an ill-advised attempt at talking back to Professor Carrow, and not showing him the proper respect that a professor . . . deserves."
Daphne opened her mouth to protest. Snape's hand flew into the air, stopping her from speaking further.
"And then, he is celebrated for his insolence." Snape shook his head. "Your outburst in my office today, Miss Greengrass, tells me that there is widespread discord among the student body toward wizards like the Carrows."
"What the hell do you expect?!" Daphne resisted the urge to fly at him and strangle him with her bare hands. "They torture the students! They teach us things that are wrong! They want to see all the Muggles and Muggle-borns—"
"Miss – Greengrass – you – will – shut – your – trap – and – let – me – finish – or – I'll – make – sure – you – regret – it!" Snape shot back up into the air, and stared Daphne down. "There – fore," Snape said, his eyes thin, little slits, his teeth, once again, bared, "I will make an announcement that, starting on Monday," and he turned to include Malfoy in the conversation, "all disciplinary decisions and proceedings shall come under the power of Amycus and Alecto Carrow."
"No!"
"Yes, Miss Greengrass, for I believe that discipline and order must be maintained at this school, and what better way to make sure the students follow the rules than to put my two strictest disciplinarians in charge." Snape calmly bowed his head to Daphne; she felt the desire to choke him to death grow. "You and Mister Malfoy shall inform the prefects and give the rest of the student body a bit of forewarning about the announcement. I'm sure," he said, turning a wise and knowing eye to Daphne, who stood up, outraged at his decision, "that you will find some way of telling the others."
He cocked an eyebrow at her, but she was far too angry to notice.
"No way does—"
"Headmaster," Draco interrupted her. "Since you've made your decision," and he looked over at Daphne, with a smirk, "might we go ahead and proceed with our weekly reports?"
To Daphne's disgust, Snape smiled, a slimy, creepy grin, and nodded toward the would-be Death Eater.
However, his focus on Malfoy allowed Daphne a better look at the bit of parchment that had fallen to the floor, unknown to Snape. She read the writing in full—
. . . could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald, I think her mind's going, personally!
Lots of love,
Lily
Daphne furrowed her brow.
(Lily?)
(Who's Lily?)
(And why did Snape have this scrap of parchment up his sleeve? Or so close to him . . . )
He held out a hand towards Malfoy—
And Daphne's attention returned to the meeting as she heard Snape talk.
"Mister Malfoy . . . proceed."
"I made a right pig's ear out of things!"
"Daphne, don't think about it anymore, all right?" Michael Corner said, squeezing her around her shoulders. "I'll bet you all the Galleons at Gringotts that Snape was heading in that direction anyway. Besides," he jogged around to face her, walking backwards at her pace, "you should rein it in around him. Don't try to goad him."
"Mike's right, as odd as that is." Terry Boot jogged toward his friend, with a smirk on his face and jabbed him in the side. Michael scowled, but proceeded to punch Terry playfully on the arm. The two boys jumped about while Daphne and Luna Lovegood walked on. Daphne watched Michael and Terry take turns hitting and wrestling each other as Luna looked at interesting clouds in the sky.
The four teenagers had met up and walked down to the Quidditch pitch. They were going to catch the tail end of the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts and stay for Ravenclaw's, which would follow immediately after. Plus, they agreed that this was a good opportunity to get out of the oppressive atmosphere Hogwarts had become over the past two weeks.
"Where's Anthony?" Daphne asked Michael. "You two are hardly ever without him."
Michael snorted. "He's working on doing a couple of Potions essays and starting work ahead on Sprout's N.E.W.T.S. assignments. Sometimes, he gets into the—"
"The 'Goldstein Zone'," Terry finished.
"The Goldstein Zone?" Daphne creased her brow.
Michael nodded. "It's where all talk about athletics and music and girls can't seem to penetrate his brain because he's so focused on his assignments that not even the prettiest day in the whole world of days can drag him out of his cubicle in the library."
Terry sniggered. "Or even Lavend—"
Michael nudged and shushed his friend. "Shut it, you twat!"
She was both too morose and too distracted with thoughts about the Carrows, Snape, and the mysterious Lily, the name on that little piece of parchment that Snape had kept so close to him. Unable to laugh or fully pay attention to Michael and Terry's conversation, Daphne kicked a stone that rolled and hit Terry Boot in the arch of his foot.
Terry shoveled the stone with his toes and juggled it like a football.
She snickered at him, forgetting for one moment that she was currently pissed off at Snape and herself and pondering the curious "Lily" situation. "Do you play, Terry?"
"Huh? Oh!" Terry came back to his surroundings. "Nah, not really. Only for fun."
Michael rolled his eyes. "If 'only for fun' means waking me, Tony, and Tony's brother up as soon as the sun rises, and making one pair of us Newcastle United and the other pair Sunderland!"
"Oi! Sunderland's nothing but a bunch of pussies! PUSSIES!" Terry exclaimed.
Michael snorted and grinned at Daphne and Luna. And then he took a running start at Terry, clapping and chanting—
"WE ARE THE GEORDIES!"
"THE GEORDIE BOOT BOYS!" Terry thumped his chest. He jumped on Michael's back and they were both hopping and shouting ferociously.
"FOR WE ARE MENTAL AND WE ARE MAD!" Both boys yelled together, Michael spinning a frenzied Terry Boot around, who was practically dislocating his shoulder, waving his arms about.
"WE ARE THE LOYALEST SUPPORTERS THE WORLD HAS EVER HAD!" Michael and Terry finished, with Terry dismounting in a spectacular leap and somersault; they pounded their chests and howled like two werewolves during mating season.
Daphne guffawed and shook her head, completely amazed. "Cocks o' the North, the both of you!"
Luna simply stared at them with a bemused expression. "Why did you refer to Sunderland as a girls' body part? I mean it's quite clear that you like girls, Terry. So, I'm just wondering why you refer to the team that you don't like as a body part of something that you do like?"
Michael and Daphne laughed and snorted as Terry stared at Luna with a rather dumb expression.
"Er, well, . . . It's kinda what we . . . do? Err . . . tra-tradition?" Terry stammered.
Luna shook her head but smiled. "If I were a fan of a team I'd make sure to refer to their rivals as something awful! Like, hmm . . . Slashkilters, probably." She hummed as if thinking about something. "Maybe something like, 'You're all a bunch of sucking Slashkilters!' And see, it works, because Slashkilters have approximately ten different suction cups. And they like to prey on nice things like unicorns and pygmy puffs, literally feasting on the brains of the innocent!"
Terry just continued to stare at her, while Daphne and Michael were in stitches.
"I mean, it simply doesn't make sense. From what you mentioned last year, you really liked it when Su Li let you touch —"
"Okay! Okay, Luna," Terry said, jumping and holding his hands out to stop her before she could get any further. "We really, really don't have to bring this up."
Luna shrugged.
"Wait, that's not fair!" Daphne moseyed up to the Ravenclaw girl. "C'mon Luna . . . spill the beans on ol' Boot!"
"Hey!"
Daphne shrugged and raised an eyebrow at him, smirking in a very cocky way.
As Terry fumed and just before Luna opened her mouth to answer Daphne, a number of screams and yells arose from the Quidditch pitch, but they were clearly not of the cheering type. The four teenagers looked at each other, and started running towards the scene.
"Aren't the Gryffindor tryouts," Daphne puffed, "still going on?"
Michael nodded as he ran. Another series of screams tore through the air.
It sounded like somebody was being attacked.
Michael and Daphne looked at each other, worry evident all over their faces. Terry was the first to reach the pitch, followed by Michael and Daphne and Luna.
There, in front of them, were the two Carrows, who had their wands pointed at two students, who were lying on the ground, writhing in pain. Madam Hooch was lying on the ground, a short distance away, knocked out cold. Ginny Weasley was in an uproar. She had just taken a run at Alecto, who was laughing cruelly. Ginny was trying to shake her off of the students, crying in fury and anger. Alecto had thrown her off, in a surprising show of strength, continuing to use the Cruciatus Curse on Jack Sloper. Amycus had Seamus Finnigan in the clutches of the Cruciatus as well.
The stands were empty, as the Gryffindors and the couple of Hufflepuffs who had come to watch the tryouts poured onto the field, yelling in a collective fury.
Amycus, lifted his wand, removing the curse from Seamus. Alecto followed suit.
"Sonorous!" Amycus' voice echoed over the Quidditch pitch. The students gathered around the contorted forms of Hooch, Seamus and Jack.
Daphne grasped Michael tightly around his upper arms, watching from just around his left side.
"Let it be known," Amycus said in a booming voice, "that any student who dares to disrespect, to insult not only the beliefs held by both my sister and myself, but also our families, shall be punished most severely. It does not matter where you are. We will find you." Amycus removed his wand from his throat. With a nod to his sister, he exited from the grounds of the pitch.
Daphne, Michael, Terry and Luna all ran over to join the crowd, and to find out what happened.
Lavender was the first to make it over to Seamus, who, with great effort, was finally sitting up. Ginny and Parvati and Demelza Robins reached Jack, who was having a harder time coming around. Neville went to check on Hooch, trying a couple of spells to wake her.
Shaking out his arms and head, and giving an almighty groan, Seamus looked up at Daphne, Michael, Terry and Luna.
"Lavender, what happened?" Daphne asked Seamus' girlfriend.
"Well, the idiot," Lavender gestured angrily to Seamus, who was still shaking his head, "thought that telling Carrow that if he's so obsessed with blood and stuff, he should go shag his sister." Lavender continued to glare at him. "While on his bloody broom!" She looked at Daphne and the others. "Jack laughed and gave Seamus a high-five. The Carrows cursed both of them while they were in the air and, when Madam Hooch tried to intervene, she got knocked out as well."
"Seamus!" Daphne interjected angrily, "you should know better than that. You shouldn't talk back to the Carrows. It just invites them to attack you!"
"Talk first," Seamus said with a grunt. "Think later."
Michael chuckled. Daphne swatted him on the arm.
"What?"
"Don't encourage him!" She jabbed a finger in the air. "And don't get any ideas yourself!"
Seamus shook his head, trying to clear it once and for all.
"Well, no one's told me the most important bit of all."
Seamus gave Lavender a most serious expression. Lavender leaned forward, her face earnest and waiting.
"What, Seamus? What is it?"
Seamus bent towards Lavender and took her hand into his.
"Did I at least make the team?"
