Chapter 7: The Bloodthirsty Creature
"I knew you always go looking for trouble," said Ron shaking his head, as he took a rather large bite of his éclair. "But Germany? I think it has to be a record or something, ending up in Germany of all places."
"As I said before, they are investigating on how I ended up there," said Harry. "They believe it was a kidnap attempt, but they've got no clue who it might've been or what their intentions were." He frowned thoughtfully. "International portkeys can be sanctioned only by the Department of International Magical Cooperation or the Head of the Department of Magical Transport—"
"Yaxley!" exclaimed Ron, startling Hermione and Joshua (the third year sitting beside Ron, who ended up dropping his pudding on the floor), having come to a sudden realisation. "My Dad said he was the head of that department—he's a bloody dark wizard—and—and—friends with Malfoy! I bet they planned it together!"
"Ron!" hissed Hermione warningly. "You shouldn't make such brash assumptions without any proof!"
"Who else could it be?" Ron challenged Hermione, ignoring the scowling Joshua beside him. "You heard what Harry said—the head of the department of transportation can give out portkeys to go abroad. Everything points towards him!"
"Or someone could've bribed any other person who works in the Department of International Magical Cooperation and got hold of one," Harry pointed out. "I would've personally gone for this option had I wanted to get hold of an International Portkey. Even if we assume this Yaxley fellow is a corrupt git—the higher the office you hold—the higher payment you get. Any worker in the Cooperation Department would be happy with any amount more than double his salary…and that is less compared to what you'd have to pay Yaxley."
Hermione frowned at Harry. "Why are you so…cynical?"
"It's called being a realist, Hermione," Harry corrected her, taking a spoonful of his ever favourite dessert—Treacle Tart. Oh, he missed having them so much! "Muggle or Magical—both the governments are equally corrupt and a bunch of piss-ants."
"Language!" Hermione snapped at him. "And shouldn't you be more grateful towards them? It is because of the Ministry that you're sitting here at Hogwarts now and wolfing down that Treacle Tart you're so fond off!"
"Firstly, leave my Treacle Tart out of this argument," went on Harry. "And the only reason why I'm at Hogwarts right now is because I am Harry Potter—the Boy-Who-Lived—the sole survivor of the Killing Curse—blah blah blah—the boy who is famous for surviving because of some fluke…while his parents died," the bitterness in his voice gradually increasing after every syllable he uttered. "I would've liked to see what the Ministry would've done had it been you instead of me."
Hermione didn't retort to his comment and continued having jelly and ice-cream, her eyes not meeting his.
Harry looked up at the Slytherin table, and found Daphne and Tracey sitting at the very end of it, right next to the Oak doors of the Great Hall. They barely chanced a glance at the Gryffindor table. He had to resist the urge to scream out loud in frustration. They were actually thinking that he was ignoring them because he, being a Gryffindor, had finally come to his senses and wanted nothing to do with Slytherins. After a whole year, if this is what they thought of him, he didn't know whether to be hurt or frustrated.
When the desserts were mostly over, Dumbledore clapped his hands and the food vanished from the table.
"To the first years who stepped into the threshold of Hogwarts for the first time today, Welcome—and to our old students, welcome back—to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I hope you have a wonderful year—but before we call it a night—a few start-of-term announcements:
The first years should note that the Forbidden Forest near the West-end of our school, as its name suggests—is forbidden. Some older students ought to remember that too," his blue eyes twinkled over at Fred, George and Harry. "Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that duelling of any manner—martial or magical is forbidden in the corridors. There are also a list of four hundred and thirty eight items from a shop in Hogsmeade called Zonko's which are also forbidden. If you want so, Mr. Filch can provide you with the list of the said forbidden items—"
"Does anyone ever go asking for that list over to that squib?" Ron whispered to Joshua who snorted.
"Ron!" hissed Hermione.
"—as you must have heard, Professor Fawley is still yet to recover from her condition which overcame her for staying under the influence of the dark witch, who tried to steal a certain artefact from our school. She's still in St. Mungo's Hospital of Magical Maladies, and we wish her a speedy recovery. On a more pleasant note, it is with great pleasure that I introduce you to your new Defence against the Dark Arts instructor—Professor Remus Lupin."
Harry's head snapped over to the man who rose from his seat at the sound of the polite applause. He bowed slightly over to the student body.
Remus Lupin? It couldn't be—
"Well, he doesn't look like he could do much of Defence stuff," commented Ron. "The poor fellow must've had a rough time."
"Ron—be nice!" Hermione berated the red-head.
Despite Ron's rather brash way of putting things, the new Defence against the Dark Arts professor really did look like he had a rough time. His robes were shabby compared to what the other professors were wearing, but you could see that he took good care of them. His face looked weather-beaten and tired. His eyes though—those amber eyes held power, confidence, wisdom and also a hint of animalistic savageness, although the last one was buried deep within.
"Now, I believe your journey has been the most tiring indeed, so I will not keep you waiting any longer," finished Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling in delight. "Off you trot!"
'Tiring'
Harry snorted.
To say Harry's day had been tiring, would be an understatement. After having taken the portkey (a ball point Parker pen), he had arrived right at the Atrium of the British Ministry of Magic, and to his horror he was surrounded by a horde of witches and wizards. There was the Minister of Magic—Cornelius Fudge himself, his undersecretary—some toad woman, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation—Barty Crouch, some ten to fifteen Aurors, and what seemed like each and every journalist in the UK. Harry didn't know what any of them said, but he did remember a lot of lights flashing, him being forced to pose for the camera, Cornelius Fudge's pudgy hands over his shoulder…and then a wizard called Roger Melonie, who worked in the Ministry, had escorted him over to Hogsmeade. Now the Melonie guy was pretty cool. He had smiled apologetically at him and agreed that all of it could be a bit overwhelming.
After having reached Hogwarts some one hour before the Hogwarts Express was scheduled to arrive, Harry had been taken to Professor Dumbeldore and McGonagall who had asked their own sets of questions. He had then been sent to the Great Hall, and was told to wait there for the rest of the students to arrive.
As the students got up from their seats after Dumbledore's speech, Harry walked over to the Slytherin side of the table. The Slytherins were already moving out of the Great Hall, and Daphne and Tracey had been among the first ones to leave. He had wanted to talk with the two the first thing on the train, but as was his luck, he had been unable to board it and ended up having cinnamon rolls in Hamburg. He walked among the sea of Slytherin students, some of whom looked at him peculiarly.
"Where d'you think you're going, Potter?" one of the older students spoke up, but Harry ignored him.
"Hey—Daphne! Tracey!"
The two girls stopped and turned around to face him. Harry would've found it funny how their thoughts even seemed to freeze like they froze physically, had it not been for the case that he didn't fare much better than them either.
"Harry," greeted Tracey in a rather sombre tone. "Uh…how are you?"
"Honesty—I'm not good—not good at all," Harry replied truthfully. "Can we talk? I don't think it's gonna take long…"
"You know, Harry, you don't have to give any excuses—" began Daphne, but he cut her across from what she was saying.
"I swear I'll not give you a bloody excuse," Harry promised them. "The summer's been messed up for me and…just hear me out…please?"
Daphne looked at Tracey, and he saw a silent conversation pass over them like it had happened on the previous year on the very same day as today.
"This place isn't exactly 'out of ears', if you know what I mean," said Tracey.
"How luck for you! This school is full of empty classrooms," answered Harry.
He saw another look pass over them, when finally Daphne nodded.
Daphne, Tracey and he went up to the first floor, while the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws who were going up the stairs stared at the two Slytherins with dubious glances, but chose not to comment. They got into the first empty classroom they came across.
When Harry closed the door, his mind suddenly turned blank of the things to say. Why had he not practiced this conversation earlier? He looked at them awkwardly and the only thing he managed to blurt out was, "Well, umm…"
Tracey was the first one to break the awkward silence that followed.
"So, how was your summer?"
"Horrible," replied Harry off-handedly. "It truly was…look, I don't know what you think about me—after the however many letters you might have tried to send me…but the thing is—none of your letters found me. Nor did any of my letters reach you—and—this isn't just the two of you! I didn't receive a single letter from anyone—and I knew something was wrong…and something was wrong! There was this house-elf—it stole all of my letters—and then—oh great! I'm rambling now!"
Daphne and Tracey exchanged glances again.
Harry took a deep breath. "I don't how to say this—but because of this elf named Dobby, who was worried for something, even if it is not something I did—but I do feel guilty about it, with all things considered—and I—"
"All right—we get it," said Daphne interrupting him.
"No you don't," said Harry frowning at her. "Why exactly did you not write to the others when you saw I wasn't sending any letters? Daphne, didn't you even feel a bit odd that I hadn't replied to a single one of your letters? Do you really believe that I would avoid you because you were a Slytherin? Is this—"
"I never said that!" Daphne defended herself, but Harry pretended like he didn't hear her.
"—how you know me? Do you really know me so little to even think that?"
"Well, it isn't easy not to think about it!" Daphne snapped at Harry. "Do you know how odd and rare it is for Slytherins and Gryffindors to be friends? When you didn't reply—it seemed as though you were avoiding us—"
"Then why is it that I would want to come talk to you?" Harry fired back. "All the Slytherins were looking at me like 'what the fuck is this moron doing here'—fat load of avoiding it is! If you think I want to avoid you, maybe you should look up 73 ways in which people avoid each other, because—"
"Look at both of you fighting like old married couples!" Tracey spoke up in a bubbly voice. "I'm still here, you know."
"We're not fighting like old married couples!" Daphne rounded on Tracey.
"Even the arguments sound similar—'why are you avoiding me?'—'I am not avoiding you'—all the misunderstanding—reminds me of those cheesy romantic novels—"
Daphne's face had turned a brilliant shade of red.
"Bugger off, Trace!"
Daphne turned on her heels and marched out of the empty classroom slamming the door behind her.
"She's gonna bite my head off," said Tracey.
"Thank you," Harry told her. "Really."
"Don't mention it," said Tracey, smiling at him warmly. "She really missed you, you know. I did too."
"I missed you guys too," said Harry, allowing a smile smile to grace his features. "It's good to be back."
"Rita Skeeter is having a field day," commented Neville. "She always like tarnishing everyone's reputation, but Harry has been immune to it at least for now as it seems."
The seven of them were walking towards the greenhouses for their Herbology class.
"It'd provide more of a backlash to her own reputation if she goes after Harry," said Daphne shrugging. "She settled for ruining the Ministry workers instead and I can see howlers being sent to them for 'endangering the life of an innocent little child because of their incompetence.'" Daphne snorted to herself.
"She used that line?" asked Harry incredulously.
"See for yourself," said Daphne passing him the Daily Prophet.
Illegal Portkey lands Harry Potter in Germany!
By Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter
Yesterday saw an emergency international Floo call arriving in the office of Barty Crouch, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, from the German Ministry of Magic. The Floo caller had been none other than the German head of the Internationale Magische Zusammenarbeit Arnold Schenider himself!
Schneider informed Crouch that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, had arrived in a magical pub in Nuremberg in Germany, because of someone placing an illegal portkey on the eleven year old. As it is widely known, it is not possible to travel internationally via portkey and it is issued only by the Department of International Magical Cooperation, so it can only suggest that Illegal International Portkeys have also joined the underground market. The question comes in—is it safe for the general populace to go out of their homes if there is a chance that anyone can get hold of some international portkey and be kidnapped anytime?
This incident clearly gives an example that the Ministry is not working as it should be, and it is only because of the incompetence of the Ministry administration that the life of an innocent, little child, the Boy-Who-Lived no less, has been endangered.
"He appeared so frightened when I saw him, tears glistening in his eyes," said a Ministry worker, "Harry Potter, I mean. The horrors of his past—"
"What the—" began Harry. "My eyes weren't glistening—this is ridiculous! I was merely irritated by the whole debacle. And it wasn't cold in Germany for fuck's sake!"
"Language!" snapped Hermione.
"Hey Potter!" came a mocking voice. Harry turned to find Draco Malfoy coming towards them, a superior smirk on his face, accompanied by Theodore Nott. "The innocent little child shivering from the German cold!" said the blonde boy in a mock baby tone. "Were you crying Potter? Afraid you won't come back? Frightened that the big bad Germans would hurt you?"
Nott guffawed at Draco's comment.
"Bugger off Malfoy!" snapped Ron. "You're the one to say something! If anything happens to you, you always run to dear Daddy, don't you? 'Wait till my father hears about this'," Ron spoke in a mock imitation of Malfoy, in a high pitched girly voice, and shaking his waist, "like a Daddy's crying princess you are!"
Malfoy retorted with jibes about the Weasleys living in a pig hovel.
Ron sniped an insult at Malfoy's mother, and it went on until—
"Ten points from Gryffindor and Slytherin for such lewd comments!" snapped Professor Sprout, who had appeared a moment ago, and had heard enough of Ron and Malfoy's verbal tirade. "If I hear such language being spoken in my class again, it would mean detention."
Malfoy sneered at Ron, and Ron scowled back at the blonde boy.
The class followed Professor Sprout to Greenhouse three, where Harry found a hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in colour, growing in rows. On a long table, pink earmuffs were kept for everyone. They would be treating Mandrakes.
"So Astoria went to Slytherin?" Harry asked Daphne, as he went to pick up one of the earmuffs. "Well, it's good that she'll be in the same house as you."
"I'm not exactly relieved at the prospect, to be honest," said the blonde Slytherin. "I won't put it past Malfoy to bully her just because she is my sister, and I hang around with you. And Malfoy sure as hell looks like the Knockback Jinx and the Stinging Hex aren't the only spells he knows now."
"Yeah, his head does appear to be a bit bigger," said Tracey. "It deflated a bit in our first year when Harry put him in his place."
"We'll be repotting Mandrakes today," said Professor Sprout, once everyone had taken their places. "Now, who can tell me the properties of Mandrakes?" Hermione and a couple of Ravenclaws raised their hands.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"Mandrake, or Mandaroga, is a powerful restorative," said Hermione, as if she had swallowed the whole book. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."
An article from 11th July popped into Harry's mind.
"It is because of its properties of counteracting transfiguration that it is used in Animagus transformation," said Harry, remembering reading about mandrakes when he had been reading Transfiguration Today, an article, which had been discussing achievements in Animagus transformation. "You've got to put a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month, or else there's a chance you'll be stuck permanently in whatever half transformed form you were in." He frowned a bit, remembering the piece of alchemy he had found mandrakes in. "And its reverse property in inhibiting or enhancing transfiguration is used a lot of the times in Alchemy, especially when shaping the properties of metals like silver. There's a theory that it can be used to provide body limbs or other parts if one gets severed by a dark curse, because of silver's inherent magical properties."
"Excellent Mr. Potter!" said Professor Sprout. "Although, I must tell you it's not just a theory that Alchemy can provide with body parts if one gets severed. Alastor Moody's magical eye was made by Professor Dumbledore himself, with his knowledge in the fields of Alchemy and Transfiguration. It was one of our own Mandrake leaves which were used by him! Twenty points to Gryffindor—and Miss Granger take five points too."
"Now Mandrakes, despite their usefulness, are also very dangerous—can anyone tell me why?" asked Professor Sprout.
Hermione's hands had shot up into the air so fast, that it almost hit Harry in the face, and some Ravenclaws were equally eager to answer. He shook his head. Nothing could beat Hermione's competitive streak.
"Yes, Mr. Boot?"
"The cry of an adult Mandrake is fatal," said Terry Boot, causing Hermione to put her hand down disappointedly. "While I guess these baby mandrakes can't kill us, they can knock you out."
"Correct, Mr. Boot," said Professor Sprout. "Five points to Ravenclaw."
Professor Sprout asked them to partner up in groups of three and repot the mandrake plants. Harry had partnered up with Daphne and Tracey, and the three struggled to repot the Mandrakes. Despite the earmuffs, which reduced the intensity of their cries, the Mandrakes kept struggling in Harry's grasp and sometimes kicked mud at them. Neville, Ron and Fay managed to be the first one to get the repotting done though. Neville was not a prodigy in Herbology for nothing.
In transfiguration, Harry managed to change his beetle into a button with just a slight flick of his wand and a spoken incantation, in his very first try, something which hadn't gone unnoticed by McGonagall, so she started giving him tougher transfigurations to do, which he did again easily.
While, Harry was having lunch in the Great Hall he had a distinct feeling of someone watching him. Looking up, he saw a small, mousy haired boy staring at him, and clutching a muggle camera. The boy turned red when Harry's gaze turned on him. He simply raised an eyebrow at the boy.
The mousy haired boy approached him timidly. "All right, Harry?" asked the boy. "I'm—I'm Colin Creevey, and I got sorted into Gryffindor too!"
"Yeah, I figured that out, seeing your red and gold tie—and that you were sitting in the Gryffindor table," replied Harry coolly. While he wasn't usually openly rude to someone who he just met, it was more about the boy wanting to take a photograph of him which annoyed him.
Hermione swatted at his arms and hissed, "Be nice!" while Colin turned even more red.
"Well, uh, Harry, I was—wondering whether, you could uh—" stuttered Colin. "I mean could you—you know—let me take a picture of you?"
Before Harry could reply, Colin rambled on, "I've heard all about you! How you've survived the Killing Curse from the Dark Lady Voldemort, with nothing but a scar, and how you fought another dark witch the previous year—I couldn't believe magic existed, my Dad couldn't too—he's a milkman, you see—and I wanted a picture so I could show everyone that I met you! One of the boys in my dorm said, if I brew the correct potion and use it on the photograph—it can move! And maybe you could even sign it!"
"Signed photographs?!" came the cold and scathing voice of Draco Malfoy, causing Harry to groan. Can't he even have his food at peace? "Potter you're giving out signed photographs?" Malfoy turned towards the whole hall. "Oy! Everyone! The great Harry Potter is giving signed photographs—what are you waiting for? Make a line!"
"Get outta here, Malfoy!" snapped Ron.
Harry sighed. Here they go again. And Professor McGonagall had already gotten up from her chair.
"Of course, you have to be in the front of the line, Weasley," said Malfoy. "I bet the signed photograph would cost more than that hovel you call home!"
Ron had his wand out and not missing a beat, Malfoy had his wand out too.
"Rictumsempra!"
"Tantergella!"
Before both the spells could collide and hit anyone sitting near the confrontation which was taking place though, Harry created a Protego in between them, causing both the spells to wheeze off harmlessly. The next moment, both their wands were clutched in Harry's hand. It had all happened so fast, that none of them had noticed that his shield charm had been silently cast, and no spell had been cast from his wand when both of them had been disarmed. Well none except Hermione.
"Are you both out of your minds?!" snapped Harry. "Fighting in the middle of the Great Hall, when your spells had a lot more chance of hitting someone else rather than one of you! Especially you, Ron! How many times are you going to rise to Malfoy's bait? You're better than that."
"A sentiment I whole heartedly share, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall who had appeared before them, glaring at Ron and Malfoy. "Twenty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin and detention with Mr. Filch. Both of you will report to him after dinner tonight."
Filch, who was standing by the door of the Great Hall, grinned nastily, causing the two boys to pale.
"If it hadn't been for Mr. Potter, the spell could've hit someone else!" said the Transfiguration Mistress angrily, her nostrils flaring and lips being drawn to a thin line. "Now, I believe both of you are done with lunch? Then it's better if you leave."
Harry handed them their wands, and Malfoy left, giving Harry and Ron a last sneer. Ron scowled back at Malfoy, but then flinched at Harry's gaze.
The rest of the hall were in awe at the speed with which Harry had cast his spells, but the person who was the most shocked was Hermione, who had seen him perform non-verbal spells and wandless magic! His eyes met Hermione's eyes, and he knew that she had realised what he had done. When McGonagall had marched out of the hall, clearly not in the mood of continuing with her lunch, Colin, his eyes as wide as saucers, exclaimed, "That was brilliant!"
"Not now, Colin," said Harry, and swung his book bag around his shoulder and marched out of the Great Hall too.
The next class was Defence against the Dark Arts, and the Gryffindors, Slytherins and the Ravenclaws seated themselves among the desks before the teacher's table. Professor Lupin came in two minutes before the bell was to ring. Perhaps it was because he had a good night's rest and got to have a full meal that he looked in a better health today.
After he had finished taking the roll call, he shut his register and began, "Now, having seen the portion Professor Fawley had covered the previous year, it is clear you are much ahead of what it is expected of students at their end of first year." Lupin leaned back on the table, tucking his hands inside his pockets and swept his gaze over the class. Harry noticed he had a few scratches on his face. "If you were indeed able to cope with the speed Professor Fawley had been going in, then we will have completed the whole of Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Defence, originally made for first and second years, by Christmas itself. So, for the remaining year we will divide our lessons between Dark Creatures and Curses and Counter-Curses, and carry on the same in your third year." He smiled at the class. "Today we will be learning the Disarming charm, and despite it being a second year spell, remember it is very useful. It does a lot more than just take away your opponent's wand. Can anyone elaborate on this matter?"
No one spoke, so Harry decided on giving the answer.
"The Disarming charm, if skilled enough, despite…well, making the wand fly out of one's hand, can also cause your opponent to get knocked away, depending upon the intent of the caster," explained Harry. At Lupin's nod, he continued, "It is rather debatable of what you consider as 'arms'—it can be your wand, muggle firearms, even a particular object or you—as a person—thus the part about getting knocked away. You can also use disarming charm on multiple targets at once. And a disarming charm can also be used in a battle of wills."
"Very good," said Lupin clearly impressed. "I'm surprised you know about the battle of wills at all," the professor's amber coloured eyes glinted at the twelve year old "—it's a rather complicated theory after all."
Hermione's hand was up in the air before Lupin could even complete his previous sentence. "But what exactly is a battle of wills, professor?" she asked curiously.
"When two spells collide, depending upon their nature, of course—as transfiguration ones won't work in this case—we call the phenomenon a battle of wills," said Lupin. "Some consider a battle of wills to be a rather imprecise duelling method, because your skill with your magic is hardly tested—but what is tested is the magical prowess, adeptness and will between the two opponents. And while in a battle of wills, it does not matter what nature of spells are fired, until the battle of will is lost. A killing curse can be used against a Disarming charm, and if the caster has enough will, the Killing Curse can be overpowered by the disarming charm itself."
"Sir, but what is the difference between magical skill and magical adeptness?" asked Padma Patil.
"It goes rather deep into magical theory, and some people have different opinions on the matter", said Lupin. "It is impossible to understand it theoretically, unless you are actually participating in a battle of wills, so I will disappoint you today by not giving a proper answer to it. So anyways, we start with the Disarming charm. Books away please, wands out and get to your feet. This would be a practical class."
There was a rustling among the student body as they started putting the books inside their bags, while Hermione put the stack of parchment and ink inside too, in which she had been taking notes.
With a swipe of his wand, the desks were stacked in a corner, and with another flick, a dummy appeared carrying a wooden stick.
"Very well—the incantation to the Disarming charm is 'Expelliarmus'," said Lupin. "Repeat after me."
"Expelliarmus!" repeated the class.
"No, Neville, Fay, Blaise and Pansy your pronunciation is wrong", said Lupin. "It's Expel-e-arm-us," repeated Lupin slowly.
He made them say the incantation again, and after Neville said it correctly on his fourth turn, he was satisfied. "There is no wand movement—just flick at the direction where you want the spell to work. Now one by one come forward and perform the Disarming charm."
Neville, Pansy and Theodore were the only ones not able to perform it by the end of the class, but Professor Lupin smiled kindly at them, and told them not to worry, and that they will get it soon enough.
"Now five points to all those who managed to perform the spell, and another ten points for Harry's answer," said Lupin, just as the bell rung marking the end of the class. "A foot long essay on the Disarming charm to be submitted next week."
The Defene against the Dark Arts had once again turned to be the most favourite class among the others, and the second years were seen practicing the disarming charm on each other, and even Neville had gotten the hang of it when he had been able to successfully disarm Ron when they were in the common room the next day. Harry had always managed to deflect any disarming spell thrown towards him at lightning speed, which had often resulted in the person who had cast the spell to land on his arse, so no one bothered with disarming him later, knowing the attempts would be futile.
The second years were taught the engorgement charm by Professor Flitwick, which everyone had managed to succeed in the first class itself, much to the enjoyment of the tiny professor. Professor Snape taught them how to brew a Fire protection Potion, and had given them two foot essays worth homework for next week!
Despite having been selected as a seeker the previous year (but he couldn't join because of a certain member in the board of governors), Oliver Wood held try-outs for the seeker position. A third year named Cormac McLaggen had been going on and on about how he was born for the position of a seeker, and that he had a golden snitch at home, which he could catch in five minutes after he let it go. There was also a sixth year named Mark Williams, who was also trying for the position. The sixth year had a Nimbus 2001, which was faster than Harry's Nimbus 2000, but then again, he had been able to fly in circles around those who had Comets or Shooting Stars, while he was in a Cleansweep, which were much slower than those two models.
Oliver had released the snitch, and had told them that he would let them have a go three times. The one who managed to catch the most times would win (if there was a draw, they would have a tie breaker). All this while Fred and George would shoot bludgers at the three of them.
McLaggen was down three minutes into the try-outs on getting knocked out by a bludger. Harry had managed to effectively beat the bludgers, but so had Williams. And then, a hint of gold caught his eye. He zoomed towards the direction of the snitch at an unimaginable speed, but seeing Harry's progress, William had taken to tail him. Harry pushed everything in his broom, trying to reach the snitch, which now having caught the wind of Harry and Williams chasing it, shot straight up in the sky. The two of them rocketed towards the snitch, flying almost vertically, their backs to the ground and climbing steeply up. Harry was nearing the snitch, his hand lay outstretched and then he grasped it.
The wings of the snitch fluttered wildly from under his fingers.
He gave a hoot of triumph, as he landed and gave the fluttering snitch to Wood, who had a pleased smile on his face. The snitch was released again, and after a minute of letting it fly around, Harry and Williams had climbed into their brooms. Harry flew around, zooming past the stands, where some Gryffindors and even a few students from other houses were sitting, watching the try-outs with interest. Some gasped as he flew past them, while some shrieked, startled. Williams was a good flier, he had to admit that. Harry had been able to push his Nimbus 2000 to its limit, but that's the speed William normally went in his Nimbus 2001. If William managed to see the snitch first, he would no doubt be able to get it before Harry.
He was flying much high above the stands, the wind having picked on, making his hair beat around madly. A mad idea struck him.
Harry pulled a steep dive. He was flying towards the ground at top speed, the wind was beating violently against his hair and ears and all he could hear was the buzzing. He knew Williams was following him. He was just fifty feet above the ground, and not stopping. He struck his hand out making a false show of grabbing the snitch. Twenty feet. Ten feet.
Just four feet from the ground, he pulled his broom up sharply, and he even felt the dew against the grass caress his boots, as he zoomed upwards. He hardly even heard everyone in the stands gasp or cry out. When Harry had slowed down, he saw Williams moaning on the ground in a heap. He did feel a little sorry for the sixth year, who was no doubt in much pain, but this is what Quidditch was. And, this was no cheating.
Harry knew he already had gotten the seeker spot in the House team. Within five minutes, he had been able to spot the snitch near one of the goal posts, and had zoomed in that direction. After a minute long chase, the snitch was again fluttering within his grasp.
He landed with a proud grin on his face, and the others of the Gryffindor team rushed towards him, gushing on about how brilliant he had been.
"So, does that mean I'm in?" asked Harry innocently.
"IN? You're asking whether you made the team?" asked Oliver incredulously. "You bet you're IN Potter—never in my life have I seen a Wronksi Feint like that!"
"That's true," said Fred sagely.
"We will flatten the other teams this time!" said George.
"How did you even manage a Wronksi Feint like that?!" cried Alicia.
"How could a Nimbus 2000 even go in the same speed as a Nimbus 2001?!"
"We thought you would crash to the ground for sure! That was one wicked dive!"
Many Gryffindors from the stands had come to congratulate Harry, but Oliver had said out loudly, "But this does not mean we have won the Quidditch Cup! We will train hard and neither rain nor tornado, hailstorm or even snow—nothing can stop us! We would win the game or die trying!"
"I hope he doesn't exactly mean that literally," whispered Katie.
"Oh, I'm pretty sure he does," said Fred, appearing a bit grim all of a sudden.
"Fanatical about quidditch, he is," said George.
However, Harry wasn't the only second year who got his position as a seeker. Lucius Malfoy had donated seven Nimbus 2001s for the Slytherin Quidditch team, and thus they found a new seeker without any try-outs—Draco Malfoy. The other house teams had turned dreary at the news of every player in the Slytherin team having top of the line brooms. Draco Malfoy had quickly become a hero in the Slytherin house.
Before Harry knew, Halloween was approaching. The days had rushed by with Quidditch practice, him controlling his elemental magic with his wand (albeit in a slightly larger scale), which worked better than he had expected it to, although it did result into a flooded classroom with charred walls and ash (from the wooden desks) floating on water. There was something else that had greatly attracted him and it was the prospect of transfiguring multiple things at once with a simple wave of his wand. It was something the Duelling through Ages recommended learning before someone started using transfiguration in duels. While he used to skim through the book, often the thought came to him that this book technically belonged to the person who had killed his parents. But he still kept it—maybe because it was so useful, and helped him enhance his skills more than he could've imagined. So, he pushed aside the feelings of guilt or sorrow which sometimes scared to overwhelm him.
Harry, Neville and Ron didn't explore the castle as often as they did in the first year, but they still went about mapping the areas for a few hours every week at night.
"You're sweating like a pig," said Hermione, scrunching her nose up. "Can't you have taken a shower and then come for dinner?"
"No can do—I'm too hungry," said Harry, wolfing down the potatoes. Oliver Wood was a slave driver. He made them run laps around the Quidditch pitch at the beginning and end of the main practice. Harry had to dodge bludgers sent towards him constantly by the Weasley twins, while the chaser trio were made to play in formation, and dodging their own sets of bludgers. Most of the team, at the end of the practice, looked as if they'd had a shower while wearing their clothes, and their shirts sticking tightly to their body.
"The practices look really tough," said Fay. "I've wanted to be a chaser—but Angelina, Alicia and Katie are out of the world! And they work the best together. Although, I guess, once they graduate…"
"I'll try out for Keeper once Wood graduates," said Ron. "I've always wanted to play in that position."
Harry swallowed his mouthful of potatoes, before saying, "Then you'll have a reputation to live up to. That guy is fanatical about Quidditch, and I've seen the way he trains himself…he wants to join Puddlemere, you see."
"I don't see what is it with everyone supporting Puddlemere," grumbled Ron. "I think Cannons are brilliant! I mean the way they—"
Harry rolled his eyes at his ginger friend. From what he had understood through a year of staying in the magical world is that Chudley Cannons were rubbish. But Ron took every chance to defend them. Puddlemere United, Wilmbourne Wasps, Tornadoes and the Holyhead Harpies were the four best teams there were, and Harry already found himself cheering for Puddlemere more often than not.
"By the way, you guys should've seen the pumpkins Hagrid has grown," said Harry, now helping himself to some Treacle Tart. "They're huge! I visited him for tea before the practice, and he'd be using them for the Halloween Feast."
"There are rumours Dumbledore's invited a troupe of dancing skeletons for Halloween," said Katie, who had caught onto their conversation about Halloween. "I can't wait for those. They'd be fantastic!"
On a totally different topic, Harry knew Lupin was a werewolf, but the Wolfsbane Potion meant that anyone hardly noticed his absence during the nights of the full moon (two full moons had just passed so far though), and although the next day he would look rather under the weather, everyone just assumed it was because his time before his job at Hogwarts hadn't been that great, and still gave him the occasional bites. But rather more importantly, he was once the best friend of his parents. Harry knew the man had been through a lot, from what he'd caught on from the surface thoughts, or a few emotions that would cross his mind, and it didn't help that Harry looked like an exact copy of his dad and one could even vouch on the similarities between him and his mum.
Despite all of this, Remus Lupin turned out to be a very good Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, and steadily grew popular among the student body. But there were those like Malfoy, who made snide remarks on his shabby appearance, if not anything. Malfoy even commented on how long he would last in a duel. Harry had snorted at that. Lupin had been a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and had also qualified for the aurors (and it was only his lycanthropy which prevented him from joining because of the anti-werewolf laws despite Dumbledore having given him a recommendation).
The teachers had decorated the Great Hall with live bats, and the giant pumpkins which Hagrid had grown. A skeleton dance troupe had indeed been there like Katie had said. The ghosts were not present though, because Nearly Headless Nick was having his Deathday party. "Why would someone celebrate the day they died?" Ron had asked. "Sounds dead depressing to me." It seemed like the house elves were overdoing themselves every year, because he was quite sure they had not prepared these many pumpkin ranging sweets and food even in the previous year. However, Halloween feast also meant that it was one of the days when Harry had to wear those ridiculous wizard's hat. "It's just three times a year, for an hour or two, Harry," Hermione had said on hearing Harry's complaints.
"Have any of you seen Ginny?" asked Percy the Perfect, er Prefect, peering around the Gryffindor table with his horn-rimmed glasses.
"She hadn't come for classes", a first year, Demelza Robbins, one of Ginny's friends answered. "She said that she wasn't feeling so well and decided to lie in."
"She has been in bed all day?" asked Percy frowning.
"W-well, she did get drenched because of all the rain yesterday", said Demelza, blushing a bit as she looked at Harry. "We were watching the Quidditch practice."
Harry was aware of how Ginny Weasley had a small crush on him, and having met with Colin Creevey, they'd formed a little 'Harry Potter fan-club', as Ron called it. Both of them had taken to coming to watch all the Gryffindor Quidditch practices. At first, Oliver had thought Colin was a Slytherin spy, when he saw him hyperactively taking photos of the Quidditch practices with his camera, but Harry had confirmed that Colin was indeed a Gryffindor.
After the Halloween feast had ended, Neville and Fay had already went up with the rest of the Gryffindors, while Harry had been waiting for Hagrid to congratulate him on those pumpkins. Ron and Hermione had also stayed behind, and they had whole heartedly agreed with him, which had caused Hagrid to blush. The three Gryffindors were going up the stairs, with Hermione and Ron debating about the skeleton troupe dance.
"Rip...tear—kill!" spoke a voice, startling Harry as he stepped on the first floor. "So long—without food! So hungry!"
Harry's head snapped towards the walls. The voice was coming from the wall. He concentrated on his legilimency to track something nearby, but all he could feel was the presence of the other two's minds.
"What is it, Harry?" asked Hermione.
"Blood—I smell blood! So...young...blood!"
The voice was moving through the walls. Harry had his wand in his hand in an instant, and started casting every form of 'Revelio' spells he knew.
"Harry—" began Hermione, but he shushed her.
The only living being apart from them was a small creature on the other side of the corridor. Harry started walking fast in that direction, his wand at the ready. That was also the direction in which the voice was moving.
The two of them went on asking him about what was happening but he ignored them. They turned two corners when he noticed that the floor was flooded with water.
Ron groaned irritated. "Myrtle's done it again! Why can't she keep herself from flooding the bathroom?!"
"Quiet!" hissed Hermione, nudging Ron at his ribs. "The last thing we need is for Moaning Myrtle to hear you, and flooding this place even more!"
The first floor girl's bathroom, or most commonly known as Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, was where a ghost named Myrtle resided, who would always be found crying her eyes out and flooding the bathroom every now and then as her tantrums suited her. It wasn't an irregular occurrence to find the place near her bathroom flooded.
"What is that?" said Ron in a quiet voice all of a sudden. His eyes were wide in shock as he pointed at a creature lying in a heap.
Harry rushed towards the creature, his boots splashing against the water. The creature lying on the floor was a cat. Not just any cat, it was—
"Mrs. Norris!" gasped Hermione.
"Someone's finally cursed her!" exclaimed Ron, amused.
"Ron!" admonished Hermione. "Please take this—"
"It wasn't someone", said Harry grimly, cutting across Hermione. "Rather something."
"What?" asked Ron bemused.
"I performed every form of detection spell around the place, even one which tracks dark magic," informed Harry. "None of them showed any result, and the most it showed was a small creature here, which is of course, Mrs. Norris. So, who could that voice belong to?"
"Voice?" asked Hermione. "What voice?"
"The voice which we heard and—" he looked at them, his brows furrowed. "You guys didn't hear any voice? From the walls?"
The two of them shook their head. "Harry," began Hermione. "We haven't heard any—"
"You!" cried a nasty voice startling the three second years. The three of them turned to find Filch coming from the other side of the floor. "What're you—"
His expression turned from suspicion to shock as he his eyes fell upon the body of Mrs. Norris. "Mrs. Norris!" He screamed, as he crouched down before her body and started shaking her gently, but there was desperation and fear in his eyes when the cat did not even twitch a muscle. He stared at the unmoving body with such sorrow that it appeared like it was Filch's wife who had died and not his pet.
Suddenly, Flich rounded at the three of them. "YOU!" screamed the caretaker. "You did this to Mrs. Norris!"
Ron was stunned in his position, not having seen Filch looking this angry ever. Hermione was frantically shaking her head.
"We didn't do this Mr. Filch," said Harry cautiously. "We were rather trying to find out what did this."
"I don't believe you—" snapped Filch, looking murderous "—no it was you—everyone hates Mrs. Norris and so, all of you—" he was closing in on them "—you did—did this, I know—"
"Argus!" came a warning voice from behind Filch. Standing there were was Albus Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and Lupin.
"They killed my cat, Headmaster!" screamed Filch.
"No, we didn't!" snapped Ron. "We just came in here after Harry said he heard voices!"
"Yes, Professors," said Hermione, looking fearful. "We just came here and found Mrs. Norris lying there—we didn't kill her—"
"That's because she hasn't been killed," said Lupin. He was crouching down and examining Mrs. Norris' body. "She has just been petrified. But how I don't know—there are no traces of dark magic being used, or any curse, or transfiguration—I mean there is some magic, but I can't really place what form of magic."
"Maybe you haven't looked adequately enough," came Snape's silky voice. "If the Headmaster gives me permission—I do have adequate knowledge in that field, and some quite obscure—"
"I will examine her myself," declared Dumbledore. "But before that, we shouldn't stay here…Remus, I believe, your office is the nearest from here…"
"Yes, professor," said Lupin.
"The three of you," Dumbledore turned towards the three second years Gryffindors. "You will come with us."
McGonagall's lips had turned to a thin line as she looked at them grimly.
The group went up to the second floor, where once Fawley's office used to be, Filch trailing behind them, carrying Mrs. Norris gently in his arms. No one uttered a single word while on their way. On entering Lupin's office, Dumbledore placed the cat on the table. He took out his wand, and placed various charms on her body. He then traced his aged hands on the tail of the cat.
"I must say I am not sure which magic has indeed been used on Mrs. Norris," said Dumbledore. "But I do believe she can be cured on the Mandrake Draught being administered to her."
Harry knew there was something else that Dumbledore knew, but he didn't say it.
McGonagall rounded on the three of them. "What were you three doing there? And what voices where you talking about, Mr. Weasley?"
The professors looked expectantly at Harry. He took a deep breath and began, "We were returning to our common rooms, when—in the first floor—I heard voices…voices which for some reason Hermione and Ron couldn't hear. The voice—it was coming from the walls. I performed a few detection spells but the only living being near us had been a small creature somewhere, which we later realised was Mrs. Norris."
"And how would you know detection spells, Potter?" asked Snape eyeing him distrustfully.
"I read," replied Harry simply. "But whatever it was…because I don't believe it was a person, because the 'Homonum Revelio' did not work, nor did work any spell which detected a living being, nor was I able to detect…" Harry trailed off and cast a meaningful look at Dumbledore.
"Nor were you able to detect what?" asked Snape impatiently.
"Please, go on, Harry," said Dumbledore, giving Snape a look to shut him up before he spoke again.
"So, whatever it was…it threw off any detection spell, but it was clearly moving through the walls in that direction where we found Mrs. Norris," said Harry. "Maybe it was a ghost because it could move through walls or something, but could a ghost attack like that? And… there wasn't even a physical sign of something even having been there with Mrs. Norris."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.
"Maybe someone has poisoned my cat!" said Filch suddenly. "I've seen his brothers—" Filch pointed at Ron "—giving food to Mrs. Norris."
Harry rolled his eyes. "That is called bribing, Mr. Filch," he said. "Fred and George feed her treats, so Mrs. Norris doesn't reveal anything if she sometimes catches them out of bed at night."
"That's preposterous!" cried Filch, sickened at the idea of Mrs. Norris taking bribes
"And you would know all about that, wouldn't you, Potter?" asked Snape nastily.
"I never had the need of bribing Mrs. Norris," said Harry coolly. McGonagall looked scandalized at the thought of Fred and George bribing a cat, on the other hand, Lupin looked amused, while Snape did not look amused and Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling slightly.
"You three may go," said Dumbledore, and without another word the trio rushed out of Lupin's office.
"Dumbledore obviously knew more about this," said Harry as they were finally some distance away from Lupin's office. "I mean, I do believe when he said that—whatever the magic was—had been unknown to him. But Dumbledore has encountered this magic before, and I guess the circumstances weren't great when he did."
"Why are you bothering yourself so much about it, mate?" asked Ron shaking his head. "It's just Mrs. Norris—who cares?"
"That's very rude, Ron," said Hermione scowling.
"Come on, Hermione," said Ron. "No one likes that cat!"
"I won't have given a damn if someone had lit her tail on fire or cursed her or something," said Harry, turning to face them. "But the thing which attacked her…the detection spells which I'd thrown at the place—I knew that the thing was there but the detection spells failed. I don't think it's possible for anyone to avoid detection of a 'Homonum Revelio', even Dumbledore couldn't have avoided it…nor could any other thing have gone around the others I had used. Well, unless it is a ghost, but how can a ghost harm her?" Harry's face was grim as he stared at the other two. "And think of some magic Dumbledore can't detect?"
"I think you're worrying too much about this incident," said Ron.
Harry shrugged. But he didn't think he was being too paranoid. This incident didn't bode well with him. Was it this kind of danger Dobby had warned him about? So, his fears weren't exactly unreasonable. But whatever that thing was…his friends couldn't hear it, but he could.
And then it clicked.
He had heard Parseltongue.
The hours before the first match for Gryffindor in the season, Harry nervously stared at his bowl of porridge. This was his first match, and the whole house was looking up to him, the little pressure which came with being a seeker in a Quidditch team. And it certainly didn't help that Fred and George had returned to the common room, having spied on the Slytherin team's Quidditch practice, saying that they were but a blur in the sky. Wood had put extra pressure on their training after that, and their best bet would be tiring the team out. Harry caught Draco Malfoy smiling nastily at him.
Draco worded something which appeared like, "You're dead". Harry showed him the finger. A new fire had started burning inside him. All he wanted to do now was wipe the smirk off the Slytherin Quidditch team's face. And there was just one way to do it—winning the match. His eyes moved to Daphne and Tracey, who found themselves in a sticky situation. On one hand, Harry was their friend, and on the other he was playing against their house.
"Come on," muttered Wood, appearing grim as he stared at the Nimbus 2001s which were shining across the Hall. "It's time."
The seven of them went towards the Quidditch field with determination on their faces, and the occasional Gryffinors would wish them luck, or pat them on the shoulders.
The entire school seemed to have appeared in the stands to watch the match. The Slytherin team were known for cheating and playing dirty, so it wasn't to anyone's surprise that three-fourths of the stadium was cheering for the lions. The other one-fourth of the crowd seemed to be painted in green and silver.
"All right, I want a nice and fare game from all of you," said Madam Hooch, appearing in between the two teams. "Captains shake hands."
Wood and Flint appeared to be trying their best to crush each other's hands.
"Mount your brooms."
As the Quaffle was thrown up in the air, Harry kicked off, zooming in an arc kicking his broom to full speed, and all the nervousness he was feeling evaporated. If there was one thing which he liked it was the wind beating against his face.
"—Flint in possession and he passes the quaffle to Pucey, by Merlin, they're like green blurs in the sky, I tell you—" Lee Jordan went on with his commentary "—oh, look Johnson's caught the quaffle which was being passed to Montague—to Bell, she zooms past them and passes to Spinnet and NO! Flint in possession of the quaffle—the bludger nearly misses him—and Slytherin scores! TEN TO ZERO!"
Harry was flying around the pitch, trying to spot a flash of gold somewhere. Another round of cheers came from the green and silver quarter of the crowd, indicating that the Slytherins had scored again. Their brooms were just too fast than the Comet or the Shooting Stars which the Gryffindor Quidditch team mostly used.
The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood up. He gave a leftward jerk, just as a bludger zoomed past him. That was a close one! But then the bludger curved in a 180 degree angle and rushed towards him, he flew towards Fred, who took the indication and shot the bludger towards the Slytherin goalkeeper, but just as it was about to hit him, it turned back and again was flying at full speed towards Harry. Fred again sent the bludger elsewhere, but it kept on returning to him.
"THAT BLUDGER'S GONE ROGUE!" yelled George, beating the bludger again, only for it whirl back towards Harry.
Half an hour had passed, and the bludger still had Harry as its sole target. Fred and George kept on flying around Harry. The score had gone to Ninety to twenty in favour of the Slytherin. As George hit the bludger again, Harry yelled at them, "LEAVE ME ALONE WITH THE BLUDGER! I'LL TAKE CARE OF IT!"
"That's mental—the bludger will kill you!"
"I'd like to see it try!"
Fred and George did not argue further with Harry and concentrated on protecting the chasers instead from the other bludger, and sending it towards the Slytherins. Harry kicked his broom to top speed and went in a zig-zag motion around the pitch, and dodging the rogue iron ball.
"BY MERLIN! IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?!" yelled Lee Jordan through the enchanted microphone. "THAT BROOM IS MOVING EVEN FASTER THAN THE NIMBUS 2001s! WAIT! IS THAT A BACK-FLIP! OH THE BLUDGER HITS THE GOAL POST, BUT IT'S STILL AFTER POTTER!"
With Fred and George's attention towards the chasers, the score had moved to Ninety to forty in favour of Slytherin.
"THAT WAS BLOODY BRILLIANT! DID YOU SEE THAT! POTTER JUST ZOOMED PAST PUCEY—AND THE BLUDGER HIT PUCEY! THAT KID'S DOING SOME NEXT LEVEL SHIT!"
"Jordan, watch your language!" barked Professor McGonagall.
"Sorry Professor," said Lee sheepishly.
Harry knew he couldn't do this forever.
Time for another Wronksi Feint. People would start to think this was his signature move now.
He started climbing vertically up, his broom at full speed. Lee's commentary had broken off, but he still kept on climbing up and up, the bludger still following him. And then, he did a sharp turn, and watched as the bludger went straight up. But he knew it would come back, so he now accelerated towards the ground. The wind was beating harshly against his face as he was diving towards the ground.
Lee Jordan's voice came back. "No one knows where he is—HEY! LOOK POTTER'S BACK! BUT—BUT HE ISN'T STOPPING!"
Harry kept on rocketing towards the ground.
"POTTER WILL CRASH! POTTER WILL CRASH! HE'S LOST CONTROL OF HIS BROOM!"
Just four feet above the ground, Harry pulled his broom sharply up.
"MERLIN'S FUCKING SAGGY LEFT TIT!" Professor McGonagall hadn't even bothered to reprimand Lee, she was too shocked to register that someone could pull a dive like that. "DID YOU SEE THAT? DID YOU SEE THAT DIVE! BY MERLIN! I HAVEN'T SEEN SOMEONE PULL UP LIKE THAT EVEN IN PROFESSIONAL QUIDDITCH! But it looks like school's a bludger short now."
The bludger was indeed rolling in the same place in the ground where a slight dent had formed because of its crash. The whole stadium had gone ballistic over Harry's move and he couldn't help himself from blushing.
"The score's one hundred and ten to seventy in favour of Slytherin", continued Lee. "Spinnet passes the quaffle to Bell—"
Harry tuned out as the first time since the match had started he caught a flash of gold, and found the snitch hovering near the Gryffindor goal post. Harry spun towards the golden snitch his broom back in full speed. Malfoy who was even farther away, hadn't even realised what was happening, and Harry was only a fifty or so yards away from the snitch. The snitch having sensed him wheezed in direction of the stands. He took a sharp turn and rushed towards the stands at the same unimaginable speed. He struck his hand out. The next moment his palms closed around the golden quivering ball, and at that moment, he took another sharp pull upwards as he had come to only a few yards from the stands. The crowd in the stands screamed in panic, but they remain unscathed.
"POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH!" yelled Lee at the top of his lungs. "THE FINAL SCORE IS TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY TO ONE HUNDRED AND TEN IN FAVOUR OF GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR WINS!"
Lee's commentary died down as the stands seemed to have exploded with cheers from three fourths of the crowd. The grin on Harry's face would be etched for some hours now.
The Gryffindor common room had been a blast after having returned from the Quidditch field, partially because after a long time, Gryffindor had finally managed to win against Slytherin, and the performance pulled by their seeker had made all the other houses jealous. Everyone had already started calling Harry as the 'star chaser'.
"I still think is a very dangerous game!" said Hermione, folding her arms. "When you were sinking in like that—I thought you were going to crash."
"But I didn't," said Harry cheekily. "And that's what matters—I really wish Fred and George hurry up with those Butterbeers."
"Wait—butterbeers?" asked Hermione confused.
"They are a speciality of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade," Harry explained to her. "A recipe passed down from Rosemarta's great-grandmother. There's no alcohol don't worry."
"But how would they go to Hogsmeade?" asked Hermione. "The party's been going on for—wait, it's midnight now!"
Harry shook his head sadly. "You just need to look for the way, and however improbable it might seem, you will find it."
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" said Hermione scowling, throwing her hands up in the air. "It's midninght! And they're going to Hogsmeade now, without anyone being the wiser?"
"Harry took me and Neville to the Shrieking Shack at one in the morning, and we spent two or so hours there," said Ron. "Then we came out of a passageway from under the Whomping Willow. Harry figured out a werewolf used to stay there…not ghosts, during the war with Voldemort."
Hermione was speechless. She opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish.
"It was scary in there," said Neville. "But, we first met Fluffy that day, when we came out from under the Whomping Willow."
Hermione stared at them, gobsmacked. Then, finally she shook her head.
"I think this was too much for her," said Fay in a rather dry tone.
The portrait door suddenly opened and in came McGonagall. The conversations and laughter around the common room died down. McGonagall's face was grim.
"It is quite late now," said McGonagall. "I think it is for the best that you go back to your dormitories."
McGonagall's irritation at the party continuing for so long was one thing, but her expression appeared to be unusually grave. Almost everyone in the common room had noticed this. Harry's eyes widened as he took a glimpse at McGonagall's surface thoughts.
"Professor?" spoke up Lee Jordan. "Where are Fred and George?"
McGonagall's expression turned even more sombre. "I-I believe it is for the best you hear about it now," she trailed off, hesitance and sadness in her voice. Harry, who already knew what had happened, felt his throat go dry. "Fred and George…while coming from the kitchens—they were attacked."
For a while no one spoke.
Small whisperings erupted around the common room. Lee Jordan stared tensely at Angelina and Alicia.
"Professor Dumbledore found both of them petrified while he himself had been going to the kitchens for some hot chocolate," continued McGonagall. "We were clueless as to how they were attacked or what attacked them."
The whisperings intensified. Ron, Percy and Ginny looked ashen-faced, while the others kept glancing around to peek a look at the Weasley siblings. Lee, Angelina and Alicia, who knew the twins the best after the siblings, looked too shocked to react.
The news of the Weasley twins being attacked spread like wildfire among the student body the next day. A frantic Arthur Weasley and Molly Weasley had come to visit the two of them, in their petrified state. Harry had spent the day looking around the place, where the twins had been found, for some clues, but he had found none. Most of the school thought that it was the work of some of the Slytherins, and the whole house started to be viewed with distrust. Gryffindors would openly scowl at the Slytherins, and the rivalry between the two houses reached its peak. Occasional duels broke out between some Slytherins and some Gryffindors, causing both the groups to be taken to the Hospital Wing.
Dumbledore finally had to put his foot down.
"I cannot stress upon how disappointed I am at the behaviour each one of you are displaying, especially the Gryffindors," Dumbledore had said two days later, during the dinner time in the Great Hall. Had Dumbledore yelled at them, or been furious at them, it would've been better. The headmaster had not even raised his voice, but the disappointment etched on his face had been enough for the entire house to hang their heads in shame, especially those who had openly jeered at the Slytherins or attacked them. "I believe I should inform you, that the being which indeed attacked Mr Weasleys was not, and I believe in no way possible, a human," his blue eyes, void of any twinkle, peered at the student body. "Moreover, the magic used is such archaic in nature that I believe no one in the student body or the staff, as brilliant in their fields as they might be, is capable of this. I am still yet to determine what may have caused it, but I am trying my best. I hope this information will quell down any animosity between the two groups. Now those of you who have started any hostility," he gave pointed looks to those who had attacked or jeered at the Slytherins, "I believe a formal apology to the house of Slytherin from each one of you is in order. And because of you behaviour, I have decided to deduct one hundred points from the Gryffindor House, something Professor McGonagall has whole-heartedly agreed to, exclusive of the other points which had previously been individually deducted. It is time that we truly learn why the House Cup exists in the first place."
The school went into its normal routine after Dumbledore's speech that evening, which had been followed by an apology from the Gryffindors who had shown open hostility towards the Slytherins. The Slytherins had been shocked, to say the least, to have seen Dumbledore take their side, and something had happened that day, however insignificant it might appear to a few, which would go on to change the course of history. Those like Draco Malfoy, Marcus Flint, Graham Montague, Adrian Pucey and a few others had tarnished the reputation of the wizened headmaster calling him biased, accounted with terms like 'mudblood lover' or 'muggle lover'. However, this act had developed a respect within the Slytherin house towards the old sorcerer, and in future it would also mean holding less consideration for the words spoken by the likes of Malfoy, Flint and Montague.
Harry had however been greatly troubled because he had been unable to find a single clue, however many times he visited the place where Fred and George had been petrified. He thus spent most of his time sitting by the Black Lake alone, staring at how the fire which he had conjured had taken the shape of a small fiery bird, a phoenix, dancing around his fingers.
Fiendfyre.
At least it theoretically should be.
A fiendfyre which had taken the form of a phoenix. How odd.
'All of us have light and dark within us, but what matters is the path we choose to act on. And that's who we truly are.'
Ollivander's words floated inside his head. Fiendfyre and phoenix. Dark and Light. Phoenix and Fiendfyre. Light and Dark. What if there wasn't any light or dark? Just magic. It was beautiful yet dangerous at the same time.
Harry smiled softly at Hagrid who was feeding the Giant Squid. His fire suddenly turned to ice, and formed a small dragon. It looked so much like Norberta. The miniature ice Norberta flew around Harry happily. Elements had an emotion of their own. But instead of dominating them, you need to understand them—reciprocate them. You need to let them harness itself, and let them harness you. The difference between a follower and a friend.
He saw Hagrid, having finished feeding the Giant Squid, heading towards the castle. In all probability for having lunch. Harry decided to accompany Hagrid on his way back, and both met on their way up the castle.
"Alrigh' Harry?" asked Hagrid cheerfully.
"Never better," said Harry, as he felt himself slightly shiver as the cold wind swept through.
"Eh, I believe the snow's gonna come in a day or two," said Hagrid having noticed the twelve year old shiver.
"Yeah," muttered Harry. It was about time. December had already fallen. "But the spiders should be in their nests then, shouldn't they?"
"Wha' d'ya mean?"
Harry pointed at a number of spiders moving in a line away from the castle. It was a rather odd behaviour for them, now that he thought about it.
"Thas' odd," said Hagrid frowning thoughtfully. "The las' time they wen' like this was when—" he abruptly stopped.
"When what?" asked Harry. They were now standing just outside the Entrance Hall, watching the spider move from there. Harry suddenly felt the hair at the back of his neck stand up.
"Rip…tear…kill…" the same voice spoke again in parseltongue. Harry sped past the Great Hall, and realised he had come in direction of the kitchens.
"Harry whas' the matter?" asked Hagrid, who had followed him.
"Yet again…blood…I miss it so much…" the voice went on again. Harry turned directly at the wall in front of him. The creature was at the same place as he and Hagrid were.
Harry snapped his fingers, placing a charm which temporarily increased his hearing ability to one as sharp as bats.
He pressed his ear to the wall.
"Yet again…"
This wasn't just a wall. There was a sealed passage behind one layer of the wall, its width as large as a room, leading to some place. He got goosebumps as he felt something very large crawl along the passage, but just as he had felt it here a few seconds ago, it was now a distance away.
The creature was moving away from them. Harry was about to follow it when a scream reached his ears. Another scream reached him, echoing with the screams of the first person. Both were girls. Harry and Hagrid dashed towards where the screams came, and on turning a corner, they found themselves faced with two girls who were staring at horror at the scene before them. Before them lay the body of a black haired boy, Justin Finch-Fletchley, body frozen, eyes staring at horror at something, and then beside him floated the figure of a ghost. It was the Fat Friar. Instead of translucent, his body was ashen, and appeared to be smoking. His eyes were pale white.
Footsteps reached them, and the next moment a crowd of students had gathered there, behind Harry and Hagrid, staring at the sight in front of them in shock.
The attack on Justin Finch-Fletchley and the Fat Friar had caused widespread panic among the student body. The fact that a ghost had also been attacked, had done nothing to ease out the distress in the castle. Students were seen travelling in groups, and everyone was just waiting for the Christmas holidays to arrive. But Harry had found a few puzzle pieces, and all he now had to do was fit them properly.
Harry finally knew what piece of information Dumbledore possessed about the attacks, and it came from the unlikeliest of sources.
"'Twas my third year, yeh know," Hagrid had said. "I'd met Aragog, he's an acromantula, but I assure yeh, he's harmless. Bu' I knew the school won' lemme keep it, so I'd had ter keep him hidd'n. But Aragog grew restless fer someta' reason. Said there's a beast in yer school, and he didn' wanna stay here. I foun' all the spiders movin' about like tha', actin' oddly. And then a one o' the Ravenclaws in ma' year, Myrtle was killed in the bathroom—"
"Moaning Myrtle?" asked Harry surprised. "She haunts the first floor girls' bathroom."
"The very same," said Hagrid nodding. "Now they had ter do somethin' righ? So this Slytherin six'h year, Orion Black—"
"Any relation to Sirius Black?"
"Aye, he was Sirius' father," said Hagrid. "He foun' abou' Aragog and ratted me out. Dumbledore tried his best ter defend me. He'd made his name an' all, but he hadn' fough' Grindelwald then, who was runnin' around rampagin' stuff—breakin' the Statue of Secrecy, but he didn' wanna do it—said he was conten' on teachin' here. So the Ministry folks didn' like him much, either. Ter show that they'd found the culprit, they expelled me. Broke mah wand. But Dumbledore asked Professor Dippet ter keep me here, and train me fer gamekeeper duties. The gamekeeper then, Warren was gettin' old, yer see. Buh then the attacks didn' happen again. Be'ween me and yeh", said Hagrid conspiratorially, "Dumbledore repaired mah wand and put it inside this umbrella," he showed his pink umbrella proudly. "Tis works the same, but I don' know much stuff—jus' lil' here and lil' there."
But something else came to Harry's attention. "Hagrid did you—" Harry hesitated a bit. But the timeline was too close, and Hagrid might just know "—did you know someone called Emily Riddle?"
"Aye I did—brillian' girl! She was a muggleborn…per'aps—I mean, she was sorted in ter Slytherin, an' muggleborns don' usually en' up there—but she was among the good Slytherins, yer know. Like yer friend Daphne. She was in her third year when I got sorted, and stopped the ones in her house from bullyin' me. Everyone called her Dumbledore's apprentice, they did. An' she was brillan' too as I said. She won the International Duellin' Tournamen' when she was fifteen, could ya imagine? Fifteen! Dumbledore said she'd give him a run for his money," Hagrid chuckled. "She won the Duellin' Tournamen' seven years in a row! She studied a few years under Dumbledore—bu' well, she decided she'll go ter the Ministry an' maybe become an Auror. She didn' get there, though."
"But why?" asked Harry. "I mean you said she won the Duelling Tournament seven times and she was Dumbledore's protégé."
"Listen Harry," said Hagrid solemnly. "The Ministry was still corrupt as 'tis now, I say ter yeh. Everyone thought she was a muggleborn—an' well, the head o' the Depa'men' for Aurors didn' like Dumbledore. She didn' get the job. I don' know much, she wan'ed ter bring changes in the Ministry and then…" Hagrid sighed mournfully, "she then came fer a job in Hogwarts—but Dippet said she was youn' an' all, and then he wen' and hired Gliderbird. Dumbledore said it was unfair, and even said he'll give his job up—but I don' know exac'ly wha' happen'd but…well, she vanished."
"Wait—she vanished?"
"Aye, she did," said Hagrid, nodding sadly. "It wasn' that much of a rare sight, yer know, muggleborns startin' new lives in the muggle world. Dumbledore'd been devastated. An' so he became vocal abou' muggleborn righ's and all—and then he became Chief Warlock an' the Supreme MUGWUMP an' all that…started pushin' laws."
Harry's conversation with Hagrid had been enlightening to say the least. The creature had been let loose before, when Hagrid had been in his third year, and Moaning Myrtle had died back then. The creature travelled in a sealed secret passage, but Harry had no idea how to get in there. But the creature obviously did open or close the passage somehow, right? Or how could it attack the victims?
That night, he had gone to investigate the place where Justin had been petrified, having put on his invisibility cloak. He knew any detection spell would fail. So, it meant doing things the old fashioned way. Harry traced his hands along the wall…maybe there was some secret doorways like all those treasure-hunt films. He pressed every nook and cranny of bricks, but none opened. It was like finding a needle in a haystack.
And then something clicked. What if it didn't have some secret button to open the passage? What if it was some sort of a command that the creature gave? Harry knew it spoke in Parseltongue.
He stared at the wall, his heart beating fast.
"Open". He realised that it was something he had not actually said in English, but rather it was a hissing noise which had come out his mouth.
There was a noise, as if the wall was being slowly dragged upon itself, and Harry found himself face to face with an opening, allowing him passage like one of those sliding doors in the malls. The opening was of the same size of any other classroom doorway. But with his enhanced hearing, he knew the creature was much larger in width than this door ought to be.
Shrugging, he stepped through the opening and found himself in a damp and swampy passage. The width of the passage was as large as that of a classroom. He stared at the opening and thought to himself he'd be in great trouble if someone found him here. "Close," hissed Harry again in Parseltongue, and saw the door close itself, leaving the place pitch dark. He snapped his fingers and the next moment seven balls of light appeared around him, making the passage very bright, quite a contrast to what it was a second ago.
Harry had thought that he'd find cobwebs or dust here. Instead he saw that the walls had dark swamps growing out of it, and the ground was very slippery. He'd have to bear with it though. Every risk of this exploration at the back of his mind, he started walking through the passage.
Author's Notes:
This update came in faster than you'd have expected, didn't it? Well, my workload is lighter compared to what it had been for the past two or three months. Although I don't know when my next update is coming in. That chapter needs major editing towards the end (this would be me third time changing it).
By the way, if you have noticed that Daphne and Tracey are not as close to the Gryffindors and even Neville and Fay seem forlorn, let me tell you that it is intentional. Large friend groups do not ever end up well and always end up breaking into closely knit groups of itself. Yes, Harry will be closer to Ron and Hermione, however, as you might have guessed, Daphne too plays a huge role in this story. A lot has passed surrounding her and her character development will be the main theme for their third year. It is something I have worked very eagerly on and so I am very excited!
Your reviews are appreciated and I cannot thank those of you enough who have favourited my story.
Spoilers: You'll find a lot about Emily Riddle in the next story!