Chapter 3. Pranks and Duels
Next morning Harry was finishing his breakfast when an unfamiliar owl dropped an ominous looking envelop among the cluster of first years. Harry took one look at Sirius's stoic expression and incinerated Walburga's Howler mid-screech. Sirius looked at him warily.
"Sorry," Harry shrugged, "can't stand screaming at breakfast table."
Noticing that Vector was on his way out, Harry made to intercept him leaving others to explain a shocked Lily the concept of Howlers. For the next week he didn't come into contact with the marauders much. He was vaguely aware of their clashes with Slyths (Lily certainly made them a topic of the discussion in the common room), but he had too much on his plate to pay them much heed.
There were Quidditch try-outs to worry about (and worry Harry did for Stebbins and McLaggen hostility towards Rivers was becoming an issue). Then there were new subjects.
Thanks to his many advantages and superior experience Harry had so far breezed through his lessons. Runes were the one subject where he would be on an equal footing with everyone else, and he didn't relish the idea of being eclipsed by some brainy Ravenclaw. Or worse, by Narcissa Black. Turned out, his multilingual background proved to be an unexpected advantage. Thanks to his mother and grandfather Harry was already fairly fluent in French and German, and Martin had tutored his sons in Classics since they both could remember. Runes were wholly different of course, but the overall linguistic proficiency helped enormously. After only a first couple of lessons Harry found himself at the top of the class together with Erica Letchford, a Ravenclaw and a fellow half-blood, much to his satisfaction and Narcissa Black's disappointment.
It was Muggle Studies, however, that proved to be a complete revelation. There were only five students in the class. (Though it wasn't the tiniest class, Harry knew. The NEWT level arithmancy classes averaged 2-3 pupils per year.) Apart from the Gryffindor contingent there was Jessica Hallandale, an athletic looking girl who had just got picked as a chaser for the Ravenclaw team. Her other elective being Divination, Harry surmised she just picked what she deemed the least demanding subjects to save time for Quidditch. Happlepuff was represented by Richard Wesly, whom Harry didn't remember ever talking to.
Harry had long since steeled himself to endure stupendously boring lectures on electricity and technology. He had endured far worse for the Greater Good, he figured. What he had not expected was how exciting his new Professor proved to be. Dumbledore, he knew, had had to replace the previous teacher due to numerous complaints on all sides. This new appointment, though less obviously subversive than hiring centaurs and werewolves was just as unorthodox in its own right. It was also totally brilliant. At their first lesson the five attendees were hooked, by the third they were completely and utterly obsessed. Professor Colvert (Harry and the twins wondered whether he was the descendant of the chap who had accidentally invented syphilis, but didn't have the nerve to ask) turned out to be the very epitome of Cool. Even at Hogwarts he managed a casual look wearing jeans and t-shirts that featured his favourite bands under simple robes.
At their first lesson Colvert explained how it would be pretty pointless to bother with muggle studies at all, if they would only ever stay in the castle and read books. He told them he'd arranged an excursion to the muggle world for their next lesson and bade them to don muggle clothing. Even Harry (who of all of them had perhaps the most exposure to all things muggle) had to admit he was intrigued. When the next week Professor Colvert port-keyed all of them to his muggle flat in London (the twins clad in jeans and tees they'd borrowed from Harry) he realised where Sirius past/future interest in muggle bikes and posters with scantily clad models came from.
The flat was like nothing Harry had seen in either life. The place looked like a dream (or a movie) version of a bachelor pad. Harry even wondered where the man hid his porn stash and his bong. He was totally the type to own them. There were books scattered all over the place, movie and concert posters on the walls, guitars, banjos, and some other unfamiliar instruments on every available surface, and records. Records everywhere. For the next two hours they simply sat on the floor or lounged on the couch and listened to the man's favourite records. Elvis, the Beatles, Stones, the best of the sixties and early seventies bands… By the end of the lesson they were all in love, overwhelmed.
Even for Harry these two hours were a complete eye-opener. The Dursleys' idea of an appropriate reading was a Daily Mail copy at breakfast. They never once treated Harry even to the movies, let alone a concert. And though in his new life Marie was very musical, her tastes ran to Classics. Ralf was the only one who voluntary accompanied her to listen to various philharmonic orchestras. Recently he even branched out from Marie's old favourites, like Brahms or Debussy to more sophisticated fare like Stravinsky and some Austrian chap, who Harry privately believed had perpetuated an Emperor Cloths-like prank on his audiences. Certainly Harry wouldn't be caught dead listening to that sort of thing.
The sixties and early seventies rock and pop music turned out to be right up his alley. It was even more up the twins' alley. Fabian and Gideon were totally bewitched by the muggle cultural scene. They completely abandoned their Aztec-related project, as well as most of their homework, in favour of reading things like Catcher in the Rye or A Clockwork Orange in the Common Room. Or, worse, torturing a muggle guitar. The twins had blown what must have been both of their yearly allowances on the offending instrument. Harry didn't know how much did these things usually cost, but he suspected that Nicholas Grinev (a Ravenclaw in their year) had robbed his friends blind. Jessica hinted heavily that the guitar had actually belonged to a seven-year muggle-born Ravenclaw, and Nicholas had merely brokered the deal pocketing a hefty commission. Harry had no idea whether it was the indifferent quality of the guitar, or the twins' conspicuous lack of talent, but it hadn't been long before he came to resent that particular acquisition. Him, and the entire Common Room.
Harry sighed. Tonight his friends were particularly insufferable. Their latest project was an attempt to compose an alternative to the Hat's song (naturally, with some particularly offensive Slytherin-related lyrics) that was supposed to be sung to the tune of the Yellow Submarine. Harry, who was wrestling with an especially demanding piece of Runes homework, was soon ready to vanish the bloody thing. Though, if he were honest with himself, he was cranky because of his own overconfidence. He'd expected to spend no more than half an hour on Runes, Professor Schliemann giving them a text that had already been translated to wrestle with. The catch was that the translation was done with the spell and contained therefore a number of inevitable mistakes and inaccuracies. Harry had thought they were going to be a piece of cake to spot even without looking at the original. Having detected several mistranslations however, Harry realised that the entire meaning of the passage had been distorted by the faulty translation. There was nothing for it, but take a fresh bit of parchment and start anew. Soon he was the only one in the room still studying.
"And we rip off their fangs,
Rip off their fangs, rip off their fangs,"
Fabian blared. Harry wondered whether their friendship would survive a quick Silencio. Fortunately, he was apparently not the only one who had had enough.
"Will you two shut up already?!" Lucretia Prewett, a fifth year prefect definitely did not approve of her cousins' new hobby.
"Yeah," McLaggen agreed, "Dumbledore must be off his rocker if he thinks we should waste our time on such garbage."
Despite his own earlier misgivings Harry wasn't prepared to let it pass.
"That's like judging the wizarding culture by your rendition of Celestina Warbeck while in shower," he said. Not that he ever heard McLaggen singing anywhere.
Before the other boy could think of a fitting retort, Lily entered the conversation.
"Do wizards record their music?" she asked, obviously intrigued.
"There are certain spells and some patented experimental magic, but nothing on the commercial scale," Harry said.
"Why not?"
"Dunno. Wouldn't surprise me, if one of these days someone came up with a marketable idea. Wizards aped quite a few muggle things, after all, like photo cameras or the wireless."
"Muggle photos don't move," Lena objected.
"No, but the germ of the idea was muggle. I've browsed through wizarding newspapers of the time of Grindelwald, you know. The only illustrations were cartoons. And muggles were well into colour movies by the time."
Lily didn't recognise the reference, and turned to Remus for an explanation. James and Sirius, Harry noticed, were not present, no doubt up to some mischief. The rat must have tagged along, as he too wasn't in evidence.
"Well, whoever will try to market muggle music will soon go bankrupt," Stebbins sneered, "Might as well save themselves the bother."
"You'd think differently, if you heard the real Beatles," Lily said simply.
"And the next time I'll need a first year mudblood advice I'll be sure to tell you," the boy retorted.
Harry put the thick glossary down with a thud.
"You could use some well-meaning advice, Stebbins," he said. "Why don't you send your friends to Fabian and Gideon here. We'll trash it all out later."
"Fine," the boy said curtly. Harry could see that McLaggen was more than happy with the development.
Lena, however, was anything but.
"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. "You can't be fighting duels. Not until we played Ravenclaw."
"And your authority over me is limited to Quidditch, Lena."
"Fine. But if you put yourself out of commission, I am replacing you with Stebbins here."
And good luck winning anything with him as a Seeker, Harry thought.
"You faith in me is truly touching," he said aloud.
Harry wanted nothing more than to leave the Common Room and finish his homework in the privacy of his dormitory, but he knew it would be interpreted as a retreat. So he stayed for another half an hour. At least, the twins finally ceased their caterwauling, he thought, trying to stay positive.
Next morning he was waylaid on his way to breakfast by a very nervous looking Lily.
"Look, you don't have to fight that idiot", she said, "The best way to deal with him is to ignore."
Harry smiled. "I can't back down now, even if I wanted to. Which I don't, by the way. It's not about you, Lily. The word he used is an extremely prerogative slur. I just can't let it slide. I told you, my mum's muggleborn."
But when they finally met at dawn on the castle battlements Harry couldn't help but feel nervous. He was fairly confident about fighting Stebbins, but Harry knew that McLaggen, who naturally was one of the seconds (the other being Reggie Mott, one of the Gryffindor's beaters), will use any pretext to enter the fray. And since the boy had an ocean-wide mean streak it would put the twins in the harm's way. Harry was determined to be as ruthless as necessary to keep the duel from becoming a free-for-all brawl.
With that in mind only after a few minutes of dancing and parring Harry successfully used an Expelioramus on the reserve Chaser. Immediately he saw the burly Keeper whipping his own wand out. Any moment now there going to be two other duels raging. Harry needed to do something to stop it from happening. Anything.
His reflexes kicking before he had the time to process his actions, Harry pointed his wand and called, "Serpentosa!"
A huge anaconda erupted from the tip of his wand and lunged at his adversaries. In the corner of his eye Harry could see that even the twins were unnerved. They were the only ones outside the family who knew about Harry's Parseltongue abilities. Harry rather hoped that it would stay that way, but wasn't sure if he could control the snake without actually giving it orders.
So far it forbore to strike, hissing at the fourth-years menacingly and obviously awaiting instructions. Harry finally regained his wits.
"So," he inquired, twilling Stebbins's wand nonchalantly, "What's it going to be? Are you going to apologise, or shall we proceed?"
The boys were all looking afraid, but McLaggen was not to be cowed easily.
"You are bluffing," he challenged.
"Go ahead, call me on my bluff," Harry taunted, "You are still armed."
For a moment it seemed that McLaggen was about to lash out and do something foolhardy, but Stebbins put his foot down.
"I am the principal here," he said resignedly. "I'll apologise tonight."
"Good," Harry cancelled the snake and returned Stebbins his wand. "Let's have some breakfast."
"Don't expect me to partake in that humiliation," McLaggen hissed to his friend. Gideon was about to point out that it was the other boy's duty to do so, but Harry signalled to him to leave well alone. He wanted Stebbins to apologise, not to start a full-blown in-house war. The look on the McLaggen's face told him that the issue was far from settled between them, not by a long short.
The morning after Stebbins's historic apology Harry was hastily swallowing his breakfast (running somewhat late for the team's last-before-the-match long training session) when James and Sirius settled on the opposite bench.
"Say, Hagel," James said insolently, "Your folks have the special affinity to snakes, right?" he asked. "How come you are not in Slytherin?"
Harry looked pointedly at the Black heir and turned back to James.
"Why don't you take it up with the Hat?" he suggested.
"Can you command snakes?" James pursued.
Dammit.
"Were you spying on the duel?" Harry asked wearily.
"Did you see us anywhere in the vicinity?" James smirked.
Harry started to get a very bad feeling over this. It would be just like James to view him as a rival, now that he had actually duelled over his lady. That the younger boy considered Lily as his was not exactly a secret. He was making a fool of himself regularly in order to impress the redhead. Not to mention making Snape's life miserable. After the duel, Harry realised, he must have shot right past the Slytherin to the top of James's hit-list.
Harry leaned forward, invading the boy personal space big time.
"Don't fuck with me, Potter," he warned. Judging by the way his former father's eyes lit up with the challenge it was the exactly wrong thing to say. The big oedipal showdown was only a matter of time now. And, probably, not much of it. Ah, well.
At least his training was going swimmingly. Lena was glad that all her team-mates were in one piece to raise the issue of duels, and, somewhat to Harry's surprise, even McLaggen was on his best behaviour.
The tensions between Gryffs and Claws on the other hand were so high that they even affected their muggle culture appreciation sessions. They were at the Colvert's again, listening to an obviously bootleg record of Whole Lotta Love, with the man himself regaling them with his take on "how I spent my summer vacation" story. Apparently he spent his with a few muggle pals filming a bike road movie emulating or as he himself termed it 'paying homage' to Dennis Hopper's Easy Rider. The twins who had never been to the movies listened enthralled, but Jessica's thoughts were elsewhere.
"Are Harvey Davidsons the same price-range as Perseuses?" she inquired.
"No Quidditch talk in my classroom," Colvert admonished, "not if you want that movie field trip to happen."
At Transfiguration that week they were learning about animagi. Since Trelawney had yet to be hired, McGonagall's demonstration elicited the proper response.
"Can a wizard turn into a magical creature?" Harry wondered aloud, as the applause subsided.
The Head of Gryffindor frowned at Harry for speaking up out of turn but forbore to reprimand in favour of answering the question.
"The theory on the matter is inconclusive," she said. There are no mentions of such cases in the Animagi Register, but it only started in the mid 1700s. There are references in ancient texts to wizards who could turn into a salamander or even a dragon, but most experts consider these sources unreliable."
"And what do you think, Professor?" Harry wanted to know.
"I am inclined to be sceptical," she said, "but we can't exclude the possibility altogether."
Harry wondered whether he should ask for an extra credit in Transfiguration in order to try to become an animagus, only to reluctantly discard the idea. An extra credit for McGonagall would mean a lot of work, he knew, and he had too much on his plate to play the teacher's pet. Besides, McGonagall would see to it that he registered properly, which would sort of defeat the purpose in Harry's opinion.
After the lesson and on their way to lunch the twins suddenly declared that they needed to see Flitwick about something.
"Is it about the Aztec thing?" Harry asked.
"No, something else entirely."
Harry was intrigued, but didn't press. He had his secrets after all, and his friends were certainly entitled to theirs. However, after silently exchanging a look, the boys apparently decided to come clean.
"It's actually about something you mentioned to Lily the other day."
"Yeah, when Stebbins was being a git."
"More than he is usually."
Harry thought back.
"Grindelwald? Muggle culture?"
"Magical ways of sound recording," Gideon said.
"We want to know what has been done on it, if anything."
"I see," Harry said, and he did. "Well, if you end up magically mass producing Celestina Warbeck, I'll officially disown you."
"It's a sad day when one's friends have so little faith in one," Fabian said mournfully.
"Yeah, when did we ever display such regrettable taste?"
"Come, brother, we need to regain our sense of worth!"
Harry continued to the Great Hall wondering whether there was anything in the family library to be of use for his friends' new project. And now that he came to think of it there could be something on animagi transformations as well.
As he settled at the table he noticed his brother's raven dropping a thick scroll at Vector's lap.
"Hey, Gordon," he called softly, sized by the impulse. The black bird swooped on his shoulder. "Wait a sec, OK? Here, you can have the rest of my casserole."
Harry dived in his bag for a spare bit of parchment and scribbled a quick note to his brother. That reminded him that he had yet to write to his French relations. He'd do that after the evening training session, he vowed to himself.
"Hey, buddy, are you up to flying over the Channel?" Harry petted Floyd's beak affectionately. "Here I nicked something for you in the kitchen." The owl pecked at the treat politely, and extended a leg. "Safe flight," Harry turned to the exit.
It was only due to his battle-honed reflexes that Harry sensed a movement behind his back followed by a muttered incantation. Whirling around he had barely enough time to block his invisible opponent(s) hexes. Hastily he renewed his shield, mentally going through his options. The cloak would save the annoying little bastards from most jinxes, he knew, and he wasn't mad enough to want to cause them serious harm. Though he might yet review his intentions, he amended, as an unmistakable stunning hex glanced off his shield. Exasperated, he hit them with a powerful Bat-Bogey hex. The boys were not affected by it, but the giant bogies flapping in the thin air gave Harry a good idea of their location. He lunged forward and grabbed at the familiar fabric, ignoring the yucky feel of the slime and exposing James and Sirius. Harry hastily banished the cloak, visualising a spot in the Hidden Things Room near the infamous broken cabinet. That gave the boys opening for another attack. Harry barely managed to sidestep Sirius's Stunner, but James got him with a Stinging Hex right in the forehead. As the pain exploded Harry was in no mood to appreciate the irony. They were duelling in earnest now, with owls fluttering around and hooting in confusion.
Harry hit James with a powerful Stunner, and after a short exchange with Sirius finally was able to disarm, bound and gag him. His forehead throbbing like hell, Harry rather thought his face was as disfigured as the day he was caught by Snatchers. He tried to undo the hex without much success.
"Damn, but you are good, James," he muttered.
Magicing both boy into a secluded nook, Harry bound James as well and then revive him before removing Sirius's gag. Sirius was sporting his fall-back stoic expression, but James did not appear to have lost his aggressiveness.
"Where is my Cloak," the boy demanded, "you cannot just steal it like that!"
What in the Merlin's name was Grandfather Potter thinking, giving the damn thing to a first year, Harry wondered not for the first time.
"A theft, was it?" he said coolly. "That's a serious accusation. Care to repeat it to McGonagall?"
James bit his lip.
"Look, it's an heirloom. It's been in the family for ages."
"And your family are all in Gryffindor, right? Is that your notion of chivalry, to attack from behind, two to one while invisible?"
That shut the boy up, but Sirius felt compelled to defend his friend.
"That was a prank, not a duel," he reasoned.
"Right. What would the prank entail exactly?"
There was a pause.
"You want that cloak back, you better start talking, guys. And don't bother to lie."
"Why, are you a Legilimens?" Sirius asked belligerently. He wasn't looking Harry in the eye, he noticed.
"No, but I am not a moron either. No do I suffer them gladly," Harry added pointedly.
"We just wanted to stun you," James said.
"And that's it?" Harry was sceptical. "Not much of a prank."
"The idea was to magic you on the roof and leave there petrified," James admitted.
Harry felt fury nearly chocking him.
"We figured to leave you there until breakfast," Sirius clarified.
Without another word Harry summoned the cloak and got rid of the slime.
"Silencio," he pointed the wand at both pranksters.
"Here you go, Potter," he said. "You cloak, as promised."
He draped the garment over the two boys and left the owlery.
Half an hour later cursing and muttering he was climbing the owlery steps again. It didn't take long for madam Pomfrey to undo the sting. Fortunately the witch knew better that to demand explanations. She did ask what the other guy looked like, however. Harry lied that they'd got away. His first impulse was to let James and Sirius take their own medicine and leave them at the owlery until dawn, but it didn't take him long to realise that he simply couldn't do it. The memories of Draco leaving him invisible, bleeding and petrified on the Hogwarts Express were far too vivid for him to condemn the idiots to the same fate.
On his way to the owlery Harry attempted to rehearse several speeches. He thought alternatively about appealing to their Gryffindor sense of chivalry, threaten them with dire consequences should they persist in annoying him, he even seriously considered making a vow of never ever courting Lily (a safe promise to make, had James but knew it). All of these options left him with a bad taste in the mouth, however. Harry hadn't felt that way since he stumbled into Snapes's memory in the Pensieve. Except back then he desperately wanted to talk the matter over with Sirius. Now he felt like he wouldn't want to talk to the two boys ever again.
In the end he simply took the cloak off, undid the spells, retuned to the boys their wands, and left the owlery without a word, deliberately exposing his back, as he headed to the stairs.