CHAPTER 8: MYSTERIES AND MISCHIEF
Present…
The storm had finally passed by the following morning, leaving behind a sky still heavy with grey clouds. The air was damp and chilly, hinting at the remnants of the night's tempest. In the Great Hall, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were gathered around the Gryffindor table, each absorbed in studying their timetables.
Harry glanced up from his schedule to see George, Fred, and Lee Jordan seated a few places away. Though their murmurs were lost amid the clatter of cutlery and the low hum of conversation, Harry could tell they were deep in discussion about the Triwizard Tournament. Their animated gestures and occasional bursts of laughter suggested they were concocting another one of their infamous schemes.
"Did you hear that?" Ron said suddenly, breaking Harry's focus. He turned to see Ron's eyes fixed on his own timetable. "We've got Herbology and Care for Magical Creatures this morning. With Slytherin, of course. Brilliant."
"Fantastic," Harry replied, trying to hide his dismay. He flipped through his own timetable. "And don't forget—double Divination this afternoon."
Hermione looked up from her toast, her brow furrowing. "Divination? Again? You'd think they'd give us a break."
"Tell me about it," Harry muttered. "I've been dreading this class. Professor Trelawney's always got some morbid prediction lined up for me."
"Oh, Harry, don't be so melodramatic," Hermione said, her tone light despite her own reservations. "It's just another class."
"It's not just a class," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "It's a parade of doom and gloom. Remember last time? She practically told you you'd be dead by Christmas."
Hermione sighed and took another bite of her toast. "Honestly, you two should have dropped Divination ages ago. I did, and now I'm focusing on something useful—like Arithmancy."
"I wish I had the choice," Harry said. "But with everything going on, I need to keep my options open. Plus, I have to deal with the Horcruxes and—"
Suddenly, a flurry of wings filled the hall as owls swooped through the open windows. The screech of the birds and the flutter of feathers created a chaotic symphony. The owls, burdened with letters and packages, began their search for their recipients.
Harry's gaze darted to the ceiling, his eyes searching for a familiar snowy white owl. Instead, he saw Neville Longbottom receiving a parcel from a large tawny owl that landed with a soft thud on his lap. Across the hall, Draco Malfoy was handed a hefty bundle of sweets by a regal eagle owl.
"Where's Hedwig?" Harry wondered aloud, craning his neck for a better view. "She's usually here by now."
Hermione glanced up from her plate, her expression sympathetic. "She might be delayed. It's not unusual for owls to be late after a storm."
"I hope Sirius is all right," Harry said, his voice low and edged with concern. "He's probably still at Grimmauld Place, but with everything happening…"
"Don't worry too much," Hermione said reassuringly. "He's a grown man, Harry. He can handle himself."
Ron, looking at the clock, nudged Harry. "We'd better get going if we want to make it to Herbology on time. Remember, we've got to find out how to keep ourselves out of trouble with the Slytherins."
The trio gathered their things and made their way out of the Great Hall, Harry casting one final glance at the flurry of owls that continued to circle overhead. He hoped that the day ahead would offer some respite from the grim predictions of Professor Trelawney and that the tasks awaiting him would provide some clarity. With a resigned sigh, he followed Ron and Hermione into the dim corridor, trying to set aside his worries.
Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at Greenhouse Three, where Professor Sprout was already waiting. The greenhouse was filled with the earthy scent of damp soil and growing plants. Harry's eyes fell upon the bobotubers, which looked even more grotesque than he remembered. They resembled thick, black, squirming slugs emerging from the soil, their bulbous forms wriggling in a manner that was almost comical.
"Bobotubers," Professor Sprout announced cheerfully, her voice echoing in the humid air. "Today, you'll be working with these delightful plants. Your task is to squeeze them and collect the pus."
A collective groan rose from the students, and Seamus Finnegan's voice cut through the murmurs of disbelief. "The what?"
"The pus, Mr. Finnigan," Professor Sprout repeated, undeterred. "The pus. You'll need to collect it in these bottles." She gestured to a rack laden with an assortment of empty glass bottles. "Remember to wear dragon hide gloves when handling them. The undiluted pus can cause some rather unpleasant reactions if it comes into contact with your skin. However, if prepared correctly, it can be an excellent remedy for various skin issues such as acne. Off you go now."
As the students reluctantly put on their gloves and approached the bobotubers, Harry took a deep breath and started his task. Having done this before, he found the process relatively easy. The satisfaction of watching the bobotubers swell and then burst, releasing a noxious, gasoline-like pus, was oddly gratifying. He quickly filled several bottles, his experience making the task look effortless.
Around him, Ron and Hermione were struggling with their bobotubers. Ron's face was scrunched up in concentration as he tried to avoid the thick, stinking mess that erupted from the plant. Hermione, though more precise, was clearly frustrated by the slow pace.
By the end of the lesson, Harry had managed to collect nearly thirty bottles of bobotuber pus, a feat that left Professor Sprout visibly impressed. "Excellent work, Mr. Potter," she said, nodding approvingly. "I've never seen anyone handle bobotubers so efficiently. Well done."
As they made their way down the path to Hagrid's cabin for their next lesson, Ron shot Harry an incredulous look. "How did you manage to get so much? I only managed three bottles."
"And I barely got seven," Hermione added, her tone tinged with frustration. "I watched you, Harry. It's like you've done this before."
Harry hesitated for a moment, then decided to be honest. "Well, yes, I've done something similar before."
"When and where?" Hermione asked, her curiosity piqued.
Harry glanced around to ensure they were out of earshot. "I'd rather not go into details. Let's just say it was part of some... unusual experiences I've had. I'd prefer not to risk another book to the head, if you don't mind."
Hermione's eyes narrowed in determination. "You know I'm going to keep asking questions, Harry."
"Yeah, I know," Harry said with a small smile. "And I'm going to keep giving you the same answer."
Ron, trying to lighten the mood, chuckled. "Well, at least we know if we ever get in a bind, we've got a bobotuber expert on our side."
"Let's hope we don't need to use that particular skill," Hermione said wryly, as they reached Hagrid's cabin.
The trio entered Hagrid's warm, cluttered hut, where the giant half-giant greeted them with his usual boisterous enthusiasm. The scent of freshly baked rock cakes and the earthy aroma of various magical creatures filled the air.
"Hi, Hagrid!" Harry called out, stepping into the cozy, yet chaotic space.
"Hiya, Harry!" Hagrid bellowed back, his eyes twinkling. "I was wondering why you didn't come by the train platform last night."
Harry shrugged, attempting to suppress a grin. "Well, you were busy with the first years, and it was pouring rain. Remember?"
"Oh, right! Those first years were a real handful this time around," Hagrid said, chuckling. "Sorry I missed you. But don't worry, you're gonna love what I've got in store for you today."
The trio exchanged wary glances. They knew from experience that Hagrid's idea of "love" often involved creatures that most people would find less than charming.
"Really, Hagrid? What's on the agenda?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.
Hagrid's broad grin widened as he pointed towards a series of large, wooden crates stacked haphazardly near the back of the hut. Strange, rattling noises and occasional bursts of what sounded like fireworks emanated from within.
"Blast-Ended Skrewts," Hagrid announced proudly, as if this were the most exciting revelation of the day.
"Blast-Ended what now?" Dean Thomas asked, craning his neck to get a better look.
"Blast-Ended Skrewts," Hagrid repeated, his tone full of enthusiasm. "They're a special breed of magical creature. Dangerous, but fascinating."
A few of the students, drawn by curiosity, peered cautiously into the crates. "Ew!" Lavender Brown exclaimed. "Ew! Ew! Ew!"
Inside the crates were creatures that looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters. Hundreds of them squirmed on top of each other, their grotesque forms bumping into the sides of the crates. The smell was unbearable—a nauseating blend of rotting fish and something far more unpleasant.
"These are still younglings," Hagrid said, puffing out his chest with a hint of pride. "Just hatched, and we're going to take care of them."
"Why?!" someone from the back shouted, though it was clear from the sneering tone that Draco Malfoy had arrived.
"What's the point of taking care of them?" Malfoy demanded, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Hagrid hesitated, clearly caught off guard by the question. "Well, that'll be part of our next lesson, Malfoy. For today, you'll—"
"Why not today?" Malfoy interrupted, a smirk playing on his lips. "Why not just tell us what they're for? Or are you just clueless about their purpose?"
Hagrid's mouth opened and closed as he struggled to come up with a response. "Wh-, well…"
Harry felt a surge of irritation. Draco might have played a part in saving his life in the past, but here and now, he was still an insufferably arrogant brat. It was time to teach Malfoy a lesson in humility.
Draco, clearly enjoying the opportunity to undermine Hagrid, sneered. "You don't know, do you? And they made you a teacher? How—"
Before Draco could finish his taunt, something unexpected happened. His eyes widened, and his face turned a shade of blue that matched his Slytherin robes. A loud, gurgling noise emanated from his stomach, growing increasingly intense. The students watched in stunned silence as Draco's discomfort escalated.
And then it happened.
FRAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!
Draco let out a fart so thunderous it seemed to reverberate through the entire hut. The sound was so loud it nearly shook the walls, and Draco's face turned an even deeper shade of blue.
The laughter erupted instantly. Crabbe and Goyle, caught off guard, doubled over in mirth. The rest of the students, including Harry, Ron, and Hermione, could barely contain their giggles. Even Hagrid's eyes twinkled with a mix of surprise and amusement.
"Blimey, Malfoy," Ron said, trying to stifle his laughter. "Didn't know you had it in you."
Hermione, though trying to remain composed, couldn't help but join in. "I suppose that's one way to make an impression."
Draco, mortified and glaring daggers at everyone, tried to regain his composure, but the laughter continued to echo around the hut. Hagrid, though trying to look stern, was clearly struggling to suppress a grin.
"Alright, let's settle down," Hagrid said, his voice tinged with amusement. "We've got work to do, so let's focus on the task at hand. And Draco," he added with a chuckle, "try not to let your stomach get the better of you."
As the laughter gradually subsided and the students began refocusing on the Blast-Ended Skrewts, Harry felt a brief moment of relief. The unexpected comedy of Draco's mishap had momentarily lifted the heavy burden of his concerns about the tournament and the Horcruxes.
Draco, his face a deep shade of red, darted around the hut, trying to identify the culprit behind his embarrassing situation. His eyes finally settled on Harry, and he pointed an accusatory finger. "YOU!" he bellowed.
Harry raised an eyebrow, maintaining a calm demeanor. "What?"
"You're behind this. I know it's you!" Draco shouted, his voice trembling with anger.
Harry remained unfazed. "And what's your proof?"
"I—well—" Draco stammered, "I just know it's you! I'm sure of it!"
Hermione, still trying to control her giggles, stepped in. "Harry didn't do it, Malfoy. Did you even see his wand?"
Draco's gaze shifted to Harry's hands, which were indeed empty. "Well, he must have learned how to cast spells without a wand."
"That's nonsense, Malfoy," Hermione retorted, her tone sharp. "We're only fourth-year students. Wandless magic is highly advanced. Even some of the most skilled wizards struggle with it."
"He attacked Peeves!" Draco countered, though his voice wavered slightly.
"And Peeves is a ghost," Hermione said, crossing her arms. "He's never seen Harry cast any spell without a wand. Did anyone hear him?"
Several students who had been standing nearby shook their heads in unison.
Frustration etched on his face, Draco scanned the room one last time before his gaze landed on Hagrid. "I bet it was you, Hagrid!"
Hagrid, sensing Draco's next move, stepped forward. "I didn't do it, Malfoy. I'm a teacher, and teachers aren't allowed to bully students. Besides, I don't even have a wand."
Draco glared at Hagrid, momentarily at a loss for words. He turned to leave, but Hagrid's voice stopped him. "Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm leaving," Draco snapped.
Hagrid's tone hardened. "You're staying put, or I'll give you a month's detention. How does that sound?"
Draco's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine," he muttered, his voice heavy with resentment as he trudged back to join the rest of the class.
Harry couldn't help but smile. Despite the disgusting nature of the Blast-Ended Skrewts, the sight of Draco being put in his place by Hagrid—and the memory of his explosive embarrassment—was a small victory. Hermione's assessment was accurate: wandless magic was indeed an advanced skill, and none of the fourth-years had mastered it, much less used it discreetly.
If only Hermione knew that Harry could manage both wandless and silent spells perfectly. He kept this to himself, appreciating the momentary reprieve from the pressures of his reality. For now, watching Draco's discomfort and the ensuing chaos was a welcome distraction.
As the class settled down to deal with the Blast-Ended Skrewts, Harry felt a subtle shift in his mood. The satisfaction of seeing Draco Malfoy humiliated had provided a welcome distraction from his own worries. The incident had become the talk of the castle, and by lunchtime, the news had spread like wildfire.
When Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall, they found George and Fred Weasley already waiting for them at their usual spot. The twins' grins were practically glowing with mischief.
"We heard the news!" George said, excitement in his voice. "Is it true?" Fred asked, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.
"Yeah, it's true," Ron confirmed, taking a seat. "It was so loud it nearly blew a hole in his trousers."
"Wicked!" Fred exclaimed, his face alight with amusement. "That'll teach him to mess with people."
"So who did it?" Neville Longbottom, who had joined the group, asked.
"That's the thing," Ron said with a shrug. "No one knows."
"Come on, get real," George said, looking incredulous. "Someone must have done it."
"If I knew, I'd tell you," Ron replied. "But no one seems to have any clue. Just ask around—everyone's saying the same thing."
Fred exchanged a look with George. "That's curious," Fred said, his tone thoughtful. "I reckon you weren't behind this, were you, Harrikins?"
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Nope. Besides, you all saw me handle Peeves. No wand involved."
"The last I heard, Peeves was still sulking somewhere," George said, leaning in conspiratorially. "He's probably very wary of you now. At least for a bit."
"Good riddance," Ron muttered, clearly still pleased about Draco's misfortune. "So, how about the Triwizard Tournament? Any luck finding a way in?"
The twins exchanged a meaningful glance. "Well, we might have found a way, of sorts," Fred said, his voice low and mysterious.
"Really? What is it?" Ron asked, leaning forward with interest.
"Nope," George said with a grin. "Can't tell you."
"Come on! You can't leave me hanging. I'm your brother!" Ron protested.
"Sorry, Ronnikins," Fred said with a smirk, "but this is big boy stuff. We're keeping it under wraps for now. Let's go, Forge."
"Right behind you, Gred," George agreed.
The twins got up, leaving Ron grumbling in their wake. As they walked off, Harry couldn't help but chuckle at Ron's frustration.
Hermione, observing the exchange, turned to Harry. "It seems like we're not the only ones dealing with secrets," she said with a smile.
Harry nodded, his thoughts momentarily drifting to the tasks that lay ahead. Despite the day's earlier chaos, it was clear that the challenges and mysteries of the coming weeks would keep them all on their toes.
As Ron continued to grumble about the twins' refusal to share their secret, Harry and Hermione exchanged knowing glances. The incident with Draco Malfoy had been a much-needed distraction, but the gravity of their own situation was never far from their minds. They were acutely aware that their current reprieve was only temporary.
The bell rang, signaling that it was time for their next class. With a collective sigh, the trio prepared to head to their Divination lesson.
On their way to the North Tower, where Professor Trelawney's classroom was located, they passed by the entrance to the first-floor girls' bathroom. The bathroom was notorious among students for being haunted by Moaning Myrtle.
Harry suddenly stopped, his gaze fixed on the bathroom door. A deep frown etched itself onto his face as his thoughts raced.
"What's up, Harry?" Ron asked, glancing back at him.
"Uh, nothing," Harry said quickly, shaking off his distraction. "Come on, we're already late."
Hermione looked at Harry curiously, but she followed along without pressing him for an explanation. As they walked briskly towards the North Tower, Harry's mind kept drifting back to the bathroom he had just seen.
The memory of the basilisk carcass, hidden deep in the Chamber of Secrets, was at the forefront of his thoughts. He knew he would need to return to that hidden chamber eventually. The carcass could be vital for his plans, particularly given its potential use in dealing with Horcruxes.
The thought of the Chamber and the basilisk reminded him of the dangers and complexities that lay ahead. Harry's resolve hardened as he realized that his journey was far from over. Divination class was a distraction he could ill afford, but he would have to navigate it like all the other hurdles he faced.
Entering the North Tower, the trio found themselves enveloped in the dim, incense-filled atmosphere of Professor Trelawney's classroom. Crystal balls and various arcane objects were scattered about, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The air was thick with a blend of exotic scents that seemed to swirl around them.
As they took their seats, Professor Trelawney appeared from behind a heavy curtain, her eyes wide and distant. She began to speak in her usual dramatic tone, but Harry's mind remained preoccupied with the task that awaited him.
The class settled into their routine, with Trelawney explaining the day's lesson on interpreting tea leaves. Harry tried to focus on her words, but his thoughts kept returning to the secrets buried beneath Hogwarts. The basilisk, the Horcruxes, and the looming threat of the Triwizard Tournament were all part of a complex web he needed to untangle.
As the lesson droned on, Harry's gaze occasionally drifted to the window, where the grey sky and heavy clouds seemed to mirror his own sense of foreboding. The sanctuary of the Chamber of Secrets was a distant but persistent reminder of the challenges he still faced.
As Professor Trelawney rambled on about the significance of tea leaves and the meaning behind various shapes, Harry struggled to keep his focus. The classroom was filled with the low murmur of students discussing their interpretations, but Harry's mind was still elsewhere.
He glanced over at Hermione, who seemed to be diligently taking notes and nodding along. Ron, on the other hand, appeared to be trying his best to stay awake, his head bobbing occasionally. Harry felt a pang of guilt. Ron and Hermione were fully immersed in their education while he was distracted by the weight of his own concerns.
"Now, dear students," Trelawney's voice cut through his thoughts, "we will be practicing the art of interpreting the various symbols that may appear in your tea leaves. Remember, the future is shrouded in mystery, and it is our task to uncover it."
Harry glanced down at his tea cup, which was filled with a dark, murky brew. He picked it up, swirled it around, and then carefully turned it upside down on the saucer. As he studied the leaves left behind, he tried to focus on the patterns and shapes they formed, but his mind kept drifting back to the hidden dangers lurking beneath the castle.
The minutes ticked by slowly. Harry was barely aware of the other students' exclamations of awe and frustration as they attempted to decipher their own leaves. Finally, the lesson ended with Trelawney's dramatic announcement that they would be "consulting the crystal balls" in their next class.
As the students packed up their things and began to file out, Harry's thoughts remained fixated on the Chamber of Secrets. He couldn't afford to ignore the importance of the basilisk and the potential clues it might hold. He needed to find a way to access the Chamber again, but doing so without drawing attention was going to be a challenge.
Hermione caught up with him as they left the North Tower. "You seemed miles away during class," she remarked, a hint of concern in her voice. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah, just… thinking about a few things," Harry said, offering a half-hearted smile. "Nothing important."
Hermione raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. Instead, she glanced at Ron, who was still grumbling about the uselessness of Divination. "Come on, Ron," Hermione said, "let's get to the library. We need to catch up on our homework."
"More homework?" Ron groaned, his face falling. "Can't we just have one day without studying?"
"No can do," Hermione replied, already heading towards the library. "We need to stay on top of things."
As they walked towards the library, Harry found himself once again immersed in his thoughts. He knew that, despite the everyday challenges and distractions, the larger threat loomed ever closer. The secrets of the Chamber, the mysteries of the Horcruxes, and the potential dangers of the Triwizard Tournament were all interwoven, and he needed to untangle them before it was too late.
In the library, as Hermione began poring over textbooks and Ron started to sulk with his own stack of papers, Harry took a seat at a nearby table. He opened his book, but his eyes kept straying to the window, where the grey clouds seemed to promise more rain.
He needed a plan. A way to access the Chamber discreetly and find out what he needed. But for now, he had to focus on the immediate tasks at hand—his studies, his friendships, and the day-to-day challenges of school life. The weight of his secrets would have to wait, if only for a little while longer.
As he flipped through the pages of his textbook, Harry silently vowed that he wouldn't let his worries consume him. He had faced darkness before, and he would do so again. But this time, he needed to be more strategic, more prepared. The future depended on it.
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