Chapter 17: Preperations
Cheers erupted from various students, mostly Gryffindor but also surprisingly some Slytherins as well, as soon as the doors to the Great Hall closed and the hated greasy-haired Potions Professor was out of sight, but not ear-shot.
First Ron, then several other Gryffindor students, then most of the female population of Slytherin started cheering.
Harry didn't cheer, but he did feel excitement and relief. Snape had been insufferable since Draco's arrest, even worse than he usually was, and Harry had started outright dreading his Potions lessons. He wasn't sure what would happen now, they were set to have Double Potions in the afternoon after lunch. Almost as if fate had been reading his mind, Dumbledore awkwardly stood and announced that, over the weekend, he would secure both a new Potions professor and appoint a new Head to Slytherin, but for the current day, he would be taking over teaching Potions, this got a mumbled groan from some students who had probably guessed, or hoped, that with the removal of their instructor, the classes would be cancelled for the day.
Daphne however was one of the ones who did celebrate, along with her former housemates, and had turned to hug the two students sat to either side of her, being Susan and Hermione, who had both hugged her back enthusiastically. As soon as the students had been given leave to go to classes, Daphne quickly made her way over to her former house table and was enveloped by crying, but happy Slytherin girls, the first being her sister.
The biggest surprise for him though were the hugs and thanks he received from the happy Slytherin girls who all profusely thanked him for both getting rid of Draco and Snape. They introduced themselves as Imelda Reyes, Seventh Year former Prefect and aspiring Quidditch player who wanted to go pro, Priscilla Wakefield, who was a Fourth year, Grace Pinch-Smedley, Fifth Year, and from a pure-blood family he'd never heard of before, Zoe Snugg, a fellow Fourth Year, and finally, Violet McDowell, a sixth year.
It had suddenly dawned on Harry just how little he knew of Slytherin's residence, since Draco and his lackeys were pretty much the only ones he interacted with, well, apart from their Quidditch team, which had also lost several members since Draco's arrest. As far as he knew, they still hadn't appointed a new Seeker.
They also apologised for not approaching him earlier, citing that they didn't want to draw the ire of their now former Head of House, and for wearing the badges Draco had made, and for believing he'd cheated his way in to the tournament.
The most enthusiastic of them was Astoria, who threw her arms round his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek then buried her face in his neck, murmuring her thanks for getting rid of Snape and Draco, and looking after her big sister, even in light of recent revelations.
"Any time Astoria, you're free to come visit her any time you know, you too Tracey."
"Thanks, but if people start seeing lots of girls heading for your private quarters, rumours will start to spread, and you don't want that on top of everything else."
The others snorted.
The little conversation had to be broken up soon after that however, as they all had classes to get to.
Though Harry did speculate on how long it would take for the Prophet to report on Snape's arrest, and how he would be very surprised if it wasn't in the evening edition.
-=-
New Years Eve came and went with very little incident, though there was some speculation on who would take up the leadership of Slytherin, though it seemed the Prefects were doing their best to manage things. Harry had even mentioned that he'd been surprised to see Penelope Clearwater at the Ball, wondering why she had not graduated with Percy. Luna pointed out that Penelope had spent half of her fifth year in the Hospital wing petrified, and had apparently chosen to stay behind and make up the difference. So she was in a sense, repeating a year. Harry thought it a bit odd, as none of the other students who had been petrified were redoing a year. Hermione pointed out that she had been offered that choice, and had taken it during their third year, using the Time Turner she'd been given to help make up the difference. She wasn't sure if any of the others had made a similar choice.
Rather than ring in the New Year privately, the little group celebrated with the other Gryffindors before retiring, of course inviting Luna along.
Sunday January 1st, 1995
Harry and the rest of Gryffindor filed into the Great Hall for breakfast, though again, Harry wasn't really having much, just one slice of toast usually these days.
He looked up at the Head Table and blinked, where Snape used to sit, there was now a man who had a confident, self-assured look on his face, stern, yet curious. His hair style resembled that of Snape but he seemed to lack all of the grease Snape had been known to have covering him. He was looking round the hall, a look of nostalgia on his face, no doubt remembering his own time at the school.
Another figure he noticed was Crouch, who in Harry's opinion, looked like he should have stayed home for a few more days. He honestly looked half dead, or like he'd keel over at the slightest breeze. Sat next to him was Percy the Prat, as Ron and the Twins were so often fond of calling him.
Then Dumbledore stood to address the assembled hall.
"Good morning students, I hope you all had a pleasant sleep, and welcome to the new year. To begin, I would like to welcome our new Potions Master, Professor Aesop Sharp."
There were claps around the hall as the man stood and gave a courteous bow, then sat again.
"Professor Aurora Sinistra has kindly agreed to take over the role of Head of Slytherin." To this, there were more enthusiastic cheers, at least from the Slytherin girls, though a few boys cheered also.
"And finally, I would like to welcome the return of Bartemius Crouch, who hopefully is feeling much better now he has had the chance to rest I would also like to announce that Percival Weasley will be formally joining the Tournament Judging Committee." To this, Percy stood and puffed himself up, sticking out his chest and looked around, his expression clearly said he expected applause and adoration.
Complete and total silence.
Nobody cheered or applauded. Not even the Durmstrang or Beauxbatons contingents. Not even the Professors. Scowling, Percy sat, looking decidedly unimpressed.
The mail arrived soon after Dumbledore was finished with his speech. There still hadn't been an news in the Prophet about Snape's arrest, which had surprised him. Usually the Prophet was pretty fast on the uptake.
"You know anything about this Sharp guy?" Harry said quietly. The other students around him shook their heads.
"I heard he used to be an Auror, but an injury put an end to that and he took up a job as a private Potions Instructor for the Ministry." One of the older Gryffindors said.
Harry blinked, "That's a thing? Private tutors?" the boy, Harry couldn't remember his name, nodded.
"Yeah, at least if you're after a Mastery in the field. I heard he's pretty stern though, doesn't tolerate any fooling around in his classes, but he actually teaches the subject, unlike the bloke he's replacing." Harry couldn't help but snort in agreement. He hoped Sharp was competent as an instructor.
Harry resumed eating, wandering what he was going to do about that Golden Egg, when it suddenly occurred to him that they were now as close to the Second Task as they were far from the First. He was running out of time to figure things out.
"By the way." Luna said as she started to dig into her breakfast, still wearing the clothes she'd been given that were mostly able to resist the hex on her. "Ravenclaw has lost its Prefects. All of them."
"What?" the others asked. Normally Luna would have sat at her own table, as was customary for the start of term meals, but no-one had said anything yet.
"After the Yule Ball. Flitwick was so furious that he stormed into Ravenclaw Tower the morning after Boxing Day demanding to know who had put the hex on me that destroyed mummy's gown, and made it all but impossible for me to wear regular clothes made of wool, silk or cotton. No one spoke up, so he stripped all of the Prefects of their badges, saying they had failed in their duty of care to look after the younger students." Luna said. "I would have said something sooner, but the last couple of days since the Ball have been…rather busy for the school."
"The Staff still haven't figured out how to get it off you?" Harry asked. Luna nodded.
"No, they haven't. I can't wear anything that isn't synthetic, which I'm starting to get used to. Though I honestly wouldn't mind walking around naked and just wear an illusion charm, I used to do that all the time at home before I started Hogwarts. More magical families should try it, it's honestly very freeing."
"Eh, we'll…take your word for it." Ginny said, cringing at the mental image Luna had provided. Her mother would have a stroke if she started walking around the Burrow naked, not to mention she was the only girl in a family of mostly sons, so that definitely ruled out the lifestyle for her. Once she got her own place though…
Later that day, Luna was pulled aside by Fred and George Weasley, who, with some trepidation, profusely apologised for the hex placed on her. Admitting it was their creation, but that they hadn't cast it on her, and they were hard at work trying to create a counter spell. It was proving difficult however, since the spell used on her was incomplete and didn't work as intended.
Luna listened to them intently before she graciously accepted their apology, and assured them she wasn't upset with them, but that they also need not hurry to create a fix, as she didn't really mind the new outfit, it was growing on her, and she was looking forward to the summer holidays when she would be able to 'live as nature intended' as she put it.
-=-=-=-
Ludovic Bagman sat at his desk, going through some essential — but still very boring — paperwork, when he heard a knock at his door. "Enter!" he called without looking up. When he heard the door open then close, he looked up, blinking in confusion at who he saw. "Dolores? Is something wrong?"
"No Ludovic, I just wanted to go over some of the details with you regarding the second Triwizard Task." The woman said, smiling as she approached his desk.
With a frown, Ludo put down his self-inking quill and sat back.
"You're lucky you caught me, I was just about to head to Hogwarts, I just needed to get this damn paperwork finished."
"Have the final selections for the…Volunteers…been made yet?" She asked. Bagman frowned.
"We're still finalising it. We had intended to use the Champions' Yule Ball dates, one of the reasons the Champions weren't allowed to attend the Ball with each other as a date, but clearly, someone forgot to tell Delacour and Krum that."
Dolores huffed.
"What about that Granger girl as Viktor's… ahem… volunteer?"
"But they have no connection. She is hardly something he would miss, certainly not someone he'd risk his life for. Oddly enough, Dumbledore has suggesting the same thing, as well as Arthur's youngest son as Mister Potter's hostage. But Maxime vetoed both ideas, it seems Arthur's younger son and Mister Potter have been on the outs lately, ever since that curse business started." Bagman shook his head.
"What of Diggory's boy?" She countered. Bagman shrugged.
"His date, who is also his girlfriend, will be his hostage, Dumbledore agreed on that."
"And…Delacour?" Dolores asked. Bagman frowned a little at her tone, but brushed it off.
"Crouch, Karkaroff and myself are thinking of using her little sister, but Maxime and Dumbledore are resisting, something about Veela and the Merpeople having a… rough history…as Maxime calls it."
"Then maybe the reptilian whore should have thought of that before she entered her name." Dolores growled. "Use her sister, it'll serve as an example. And if the reptiles and the fish do have a negative history, and that negative history leads to an…unfortunate accident…then all the better."
Her words made Bagman flinch, but he knew Dolores didn't care. She knew he was a former Death Eater, so wouldn't really be offended by her words, he was more worried someone would walk past and overhear her.
"What of the cheating brat then?" She snapped. Bagman sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"That's something else we have to consider. He's now in a situation where he has to depend on the…ah…physical attributes and abilities of three witches, though I'm hearing rumour there's now a fourth in the mix. That Lovegood girl has been seen hanging around him more, especially after what happened at the Ball." Then, under his breath, Ludo muttered "Four witches? Lucky little bastard."
"Your point?" Umbridge said impatiently, folding her arms.
"Well, we've learned that their…condition has accelerated the Bonding process, to the point where he's already able to mentally communicate with Granger, and if not with Greengrass and Bones already, then certainly by late February. That gives him a potentially unfair advantage."
"How? The hostages will be unconscious at the bottom of the lake. That link doesn't work while one of the party is out cold."
"The others could guide him." Bagman replied.
Dolores blinked in confusion. "How?"
"Well, we realised while planning this thing that having a group of people sit round the Lake staring at the water while the Champions went for a swim wasn't very entertaining, so we've come up with a way for the spectators to, well, spectate."
As Ludo explained and outlined what they had set up, a plan started to form in Dolores' mind. The answer to Ludo's little problem was simple enough, and didn't take much to get the point across, but the idea of separating the Champions first presented an opportunity to Dolores.
Tuesday January 3rd
12 Grimmauld Place
Sirius stepped out of his room, stretching. He was eager to get to work, his recent discovery during the Christmas holiday had re-invigorated him, filled him with a new sense of purpose and excitement. It was driving him up the wall that he couldn't say anything to anyone, not until the appointed time. Not even Remus.
He'd been sworn to secrecy, he couldn't say anything to anyone. So he decided to focus on something else, specifically: making his godson's fifteenth birthday present. Everything he needed was still in his private study, he just needed to go over everything to make sure he had what he needed. It had been 15 or so years since he'd last done this, and his time in Azkaban hadn't helped his creative side.
That drew his thoughts to the other items he had in his study that he needed to go over: The documents he'd found while searching through some old locked chests he'd managed to open.
His cousins' marriage contracts. And an updated copy of his Will, now officially disinheriting one Draco Malfoy. The copy he held was just that, a magically duplicated copy, the actual Will was in Gringotts' possession.
His beloved Godson was now his heir. Officially.
He couldn't wait for Draco and Lucius to find out. A shame he'd never be able to tell either of them in person.
Remus had received an owl from Andromeda informing him of the date of Draco's trial, and while he wouldn't be able to attend, Remus had agreed to go in his stead. Not that Remus would be able to do much. As a former teacher of Draco, he was barred from serving on the jury. Though he and Sirius did agree on the fact that the Magical legal system, particularly the courts, was a bit of a mess compared to the muggle one.
Though he had given Remus a message to pass on to the little shit if he got the chance.
It didn't take him long to head down to his study, where he'd left his latest project. Remus had suggested it as they'd visited the Black Vault at Gringotts, after he'd updated his Will. Sirius had agreed. It gave him something to do, and would potentially be a nice birthday present for Harry, assuming he couldn't get another Firebolt.
As he took his seat at the table, he unlocked the 4 foot long box sat on the desk and opened it.
Inside was all the materials he needed. Smiling to himself, he turned to the old magical forge he'd dug out of storage and with a flick of his wand, ignited it. He set the cradle over the magical fire as it started to heat up, then, turning back to the box, he quickly donned the dragon-hide gloves, apron and boots, before adding the first ingredients to the smelting cradle.
-=-=-=-
Wednesday, January 4th, 1995
The first day of term arrived with the usual flare. It being a Wednesday, Harry knew the only classes he had that day was double Charms, which he was looking forward to. A flurry of owls delivered the morning mail, along with what looked like envelopes that bore the Ministry's official seal. Several were delivered to Gryffindor, six to Slytherin, and one to Ravenclaw.
Harry opened his a little wearily, though he found the letter inside rather interesting.
Dear Mr Potter,
My name is Violet Sweeting, Solicitor at Bloomsbury Legal. I will be representing the Prosecution in the up-coming trials of Draco Malfoy, Millicent Bulstrode, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson and Severus Snape.
As you were present for the altercation that immediately preceded the arrest of the fore-named, you may be called as witness during the trial. To that end, I have made arrangements with Professor Dumbledore to visit the school to gain written statements and questions (if applicable) from all involved.
These interviews shall be taking place starting the first weekend in January at 10 am.
Please present yourself to the Headmaster's office no later than 8am that morning.
Sincerely,
Violet Sweeting, Solicitor for Bloomsbury Legal.
Harry turned to the girls, noting that they had received similar missives.
"This name seem familiar to you guys?" he asked. Susan nodded.
"Violet Sweeting, her daughter, is a third-year Puff, though she doesn't have many friends, if any actually. She sneaks out to the forest a lot, started during her first year. How she managed that with the school on lock down second year and last year I have no idea. Rumour has it she's adopted a Hippogriff," Susan chuckled.
It was then that Harry noticed the rolled-up copies of the Prophet that had been dropped by the regular owls, who were helping themselves to snacks. Rolling his eyes, he picked up one of the papers and unrolled it, then bristled when he saw the headline:
DEBAUCHERY AT THE BALL!
Questions still unanswered.
Hogwarts has a Giant problem!
Potions Master shelved!
By Rita Skeeter.
Good day fine readers! We here at the Daily Prophet hope all of you at home, work and Hogwarts had a pleasant Christmas!
Though it would seem not everyone did have a pleasant Christmas. As readers may recall, several Hogwarts students were arrested two weeks ago on very serious charges, unfortunately, further information in that case is not forthcoming, the DMLE still refuses to comment. A trial date has not yet been set. When approached, the DMLE refused to comment, citing an ongoing investigation.
Another who appeared to have a rather disastrous experience at the Yule Ball, the traditional dance held at the school hosting the Triwizard Tournament on the evening of Christmas Day, was Third Year Ravenclaw student, Luna Lovegood, 13, who suffered a Wardrobe Malfunction, and her dress disintegrated, leaving her shamelessly naked, and apparently unconcerned, on the dance floor!
Harry regarded the paper with a scowl, silently contemplating if he should go back and pay Cuffe another visit, clearly his last had been ignored.
Another student of note was one Susanne Bones, niece of DMLE head Amelia Bones, who was wearing a rather form-fitting, and revealing, deep crimson dress that hid practically nothing! And also revealed she was wearing nothing underneath it!
What has the state of our premiere educational institution come to if students are stripped naked and humiliated in public? Or allowed to flout the rules of public decency? On top of underage students cheating their way into competitions intended for older and more skilled students, and violence in the classrooms, and wanton displays of inappropriate behaviour? This paper feels compelled to voice the opinion that perhaps the blame for all of this should be laid at the feet of one Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts Headmaster.
We at the Prophet cannot help but wonder how and why Harry Potter's entry into the Tournament has not yet being investigated, by either the Ministry or Hogwarts itself, given the amount of time that has passed, something should have been done by now. Why has he not been withdrawn, as previously speculated in our prior articles following both news of his entry and the results of the First Task, which somehow saw him take the lead over his fellow, true Champions, culminating in using a hereunto form of dark magic to charm the dragon he had to face. Something the Ministry's experts in the Control of Magical Creatures department say they are still looking into.
When we reached out to the Ministry on this matter just before Christmas, they said that once a name is selected by the Goblet of Fire, that entrant is then placed in a binding Magical Contract, and must compete.
They claim that if Mister Potter were to withdraw from the Tournament at any point before it's completion, or be disqualified, then he would be stripped of his magic.
Harry raised an eyebrow, quietly wondering to himself where the Prophet was getting its information from.
"Odd how they open with a hit piece detailing what happened to Luna then segue into taking another swing at me. And how many times have they been calling for my entry to be investigated or for me to be withdrawn?" He asked.
"A couple of times, you just never noticed because you almost never read the paper past the front page. In fact, you've refused to read it ever since our love-life was plastered across the front page." Hermione said, leaning over to read it with him, while Susan leaned in from his other side. He snorted.
"What do you expect me to do? It's a worthless tabloid rag that isn't worth the money wasted to print it, not even fit for use as toilet paper, but yet, somehow, it's the main source of news for this society, and its drivel is believed by 95% of its readers."
"Hm, if Luna's father didn't already know about the Ball incident, he will when he reads this." Daphne said, casting a sympathetic look up towards the Ravenclaw table where Luna sat, still eating her toast.
Harry followed her gaze, concern for his young friend twisting his gut. The impression he got from Luna was that she didn't particularly care about the Prophet or what it printed.
Susan looked rather offended, "'inappropriate'? I've seen more offensive examples of dress code violations in public, let alone here."
"Like what?" Hermione asked.
"Fudge's Under-Secretary."
"Ah, right. His Under-The-Desk-Secretary." Daphne snorted.
"Please, Fudge has to have some standards." Susan replied, smirking.
"Susan! Daphne!" Hermione chided. The other two looked at her, rolling their eyes.
"You haven't met her. Trust me, she's awful. She's basically the physical embodiment of everything Malfoy and his ilk believe in. And just as repellent." Susan said. "She hates Muggle-borns, fully believes that tripe about them 'stealing' magic from pure-bloods, she's also pretty intolerant of half-bloods. And don't ever mention the centaurs around her."
"How did someone like her get to where she is then?" Harry asked.
The other two shrugged.
"Blackmail, bribes, probably both financial and sexual, though I think any man would have to be blind not to instantly recoil from her in those situations. Though being ruthless and cunning like a typical Slytherin probably helped." Daphne grinned.
"Honestly…" Hermione huffed, turning her attention to the Prophet, hoping that Luna and Susan wouldn't suffer too much blow back from this.
"There's more, look here." Daphne pointed, Harry's gaze moved down to the next block of text, and he felt his anger start to stir.
Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointments.
In September of this year, he hired Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, the notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, a decision that caused many raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given Moody's well-known habit of attacking anybody who makes a sudden movement in his presence. Mad-Eye Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly, when set beside the part-human Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Magical Creatures.
Rubeus Hagrid, who was expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since, a job secured for him by Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the Headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates.
An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his new-found authority to terrify the students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons which many admit to be 'very frightening'.
Hagrid has no intention of ceasing his campaign of intimidation, however. In conversation with this Daily Prophet reporter last month, he admitted breeding creatures he has dubbed 'Blast-Ended Skrewts', highly dangerous crosses between Manticores and Fire Crabs. The creation of new breeds of magical creature is, of course, an activity usually closely observed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hagrid, it seems, considers himself to be above such petty restrictions.
'I was just having some fun,' he says, before hastily changing the subject. As if this were not enough, the Daily Prophet has now unearthed evidence that Hagrid is not – as he has always pretended – a Pure-Blood wizard. He is not, in fact, even pure human. His mother, we can exclusively reveal, is none other than the giantess Fridwulfa, whose whereabouts are currently unknown. Bloodthirsty and brutal, the giants brought themselves to the point of extinction by warring among themselves during the last century. The handful that remained joined the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and were responsible for some of the worst mass Muggle-killings of his reign of terror.
While many of the giants who served He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were killed by Aurors working against the Dark side, Fridwulfa was not among them. It is possible she escaped to one of the giant communities still existing in foreign mountain ranges. If his antics during Care of Magical Creatures lessons are any guide, however, Fridwulfa's son appears to have inherited her brutal nature.
In a bizarre twist, Hagrid is reputed to have developed a close friendship with the boy who brought about You-Know-Who's fall from power – thereby driving Hagrid's own mother, like the rest of You-Know-Who's supporters, into hiding. Perhaps Harry Potter is unaware of the unpleasant truth about his large friend – but Albus Dumbledore surely has a duty of care to ensure that Harry Potter, along with his fellow students, is warned about the dangers of associating with part-giants.
Harry scowled, his anger being picked up and reflected by Hermione, though Susan and Daphne didn't seem as angry, but he did pick up on their surprise of the revelation of Hagrid's bloodline. Come to think of it, he couldn't see Hagrid up at the Head Table, and he hadn't for the past couple of days. He saw Aesop Sharp, their new Potions Professor eating his breakfast. Harry was dubious about his first Potions lesson of the year, hopefully the guy would be better at teaching than Snape ever had been. According to some whispers he'd overheard, the man was apparently an ex-Auror.
Was it common for all ex-Aurors to go on teaching? Or just him and Mad-Eye. Speaking of which, their Defence Professor had discarded his copy of the Prophet with a snort and a look of total disinterest. The looks he'd given Sharp over the past couple of days however had been ones full of suspicion, weariness and a small amount of hostility. He still glared daggers at Karkaroff, who glared back at him.
Harry then turned his attention to the last piece of the article covering the arrest of Snape. It wasn't much, all it said was that Snape had been marched out of Hogwarts the morning of Friday 30th, and that he was facing a similar set of charges to Draco, and that the trials for all involved had been set for the 14th of January.
-=-=-=-
Sat at his home, nursing a mug of honeyed tea and going over the next edition of the Quibbler before it went in to print, Xenophilius Lovegood started reading the latest issue of the Prophet, and promptly sprayed the front page with a mouthful of coffee.
A quick cleaning and drying spell later, and he was able to read the article in full, and as he did, his blood started to boil.
He read it several more times, his ire rising with each reading as he took in and digested what was said.
Well, this explained why Luna hadn't sent her mother's dress back in the post. Tears started to build in his eyes as he stood and started to pace. Not only had one of the last few possessions belonging to his dear wife been callously destroyed, but his daughter, his little moon, had been publicly humiliated.
Part of him could understand, and even accept, why Luna hadn't contacted him herself, and he'd have to find out from a rival publication that had openly mocked him in the past.
"She likely blames herself…oh Luna…you should have told me." He lamented, as he put his face in his hands, the tears and memories of his wife started to flow.
-=-=-=-
Daily Prophet Headquarters, Diagon Alley
Rita was sat at her desk, smiling to herself as she looked over that morning's issue that detailed her 'scoop' on both the events of the Ball and Hagrid. She couldn't wait to work her magic, so to speak, on the article that would detail the results of the upcoming trials. No doubt the revelations from that would be juicy.
And speaking of, her mind drifted back to all of her previous articles, and she sighed happily, her eyes becoming lidded as she thought of all the chaos they caused, and she started to feel warmth in her lower abdomen.
Many claimed to enjoy their jobs, but few actually did. But she not only loved her job, she revelled in it. In the same way she was sure Hermione Granger, Susan Bones, Daphne Greengrass and soon, Luna Lovegood revelled in the attention Harry gave them.
Picking up her green Quick-Quotes Quill, she slid it into her robe's right inner pocket. The moment she let go of it, its form began to shift and grow, becoming rounder, its outline becoming clearly visible under her right breast. Not that anyone who looked at her robes would ever notice.
The door to her office suddenly banged open.
"RITA!" Barnabas Cuffe snarled as he stormed in.
Rita looked up, her arousal, which had only just started to build, instantly snuffed out. She forced herself not to glare at him as he walked up to her desk, and with a silent sigh of frustration, she prepared herself to deal with this dolt.
"Barney, come in." She droned.
Barnabas glared at her.
"I told you NOT to run that story!"
"Which one?"
"EITHER OF THEM!" Barnabas snapped.
Rita rolled her eyes.
"Honestly, what is Potter going to do? He's too busy fanny-diving and rimming his girlfriends, preparing for the Second Task, and the up-coming trials to worry about little old me."
"You know he paid me a visit before Christmas." Barnabas snapped.
"Yes, so you told me."
"Right, so I'd like to avoid another visit if you don't mind. So keep anything that could get him even more pissed off at us to yourself from now on."
Before Rita could offer a counter, Cuffe turned and stormed out. He didn't see the scowl on Rita's face, or the sparkle of irritation in her eyes.
-=-=-=-
Later that evening, just after dinner, Harry had just started to make his way up the main grand staircase when a blinding, almost crippling stab of pain lanced through his forehead, and as he screwed his eyes shut, an image of Pettigrew twisting on the floor in front of him, screaming flashed through his mind. He doubled over before turning to sit on the steps, the girls, who were both ahead of and behind him also stopped and stumbled, as they each felt an echo of what he felt.
"Morgana's saggy tits! What the bloody hell?" Susan groaned as she rubbed at her forehead.
"Voldemort." Harry hissed, "He must have found out about the arrest of Snape, somehow. Wormtail probably got a copy of the Prophet. He's pissed."
"You never said it hurt this much. Feels like I just got stabbed." Daphne grunted as she sat on the stairs below him, Hermione just behind her.
"Didn't realise…the link would let us feel… each other's pain… though I suppose, it makes sense." Hermione panted.
"Did you sense anything from him after Draco got arrested?" Susan asked in a heavy voice as she panted for breath, wiping away the tears that had started to flow.
"No… which is odd, I'm guessing he didn't really care enough about that, or he didn't know." Harry said.
"Didn't you say once that you could see what he sees? Feel what he feels?" Susan asked.
"Yeah, but not since we all started Bonding, well, not since Hermione and I did. I thought that was blocking whatever link I have with him, but apparently if he's pissed enough, I still feel it."
"Maybe we should go talk to the Headmaster." Susan muttered as she tried to get to her feet.
-=-=-=-
Riddle Manor
Pettigrew shrieked as he twitched on the floor in front of his master, the now discarded copy of the Prophet forgotten.
Voldemort released the curse on Pettigrew, more to conserve his own strength than out of any sense of pity or mercy.
Snape. Arrested. He already knew about the arrest of Draco and his friends of course, and he couldn't be more disgusted with all of them. If any of those brats wanted a place in the world he was going to usher in after his restoration, they would have to prove they were worthy of it. From everything he'd heard and seen so far, the odds of that happening were slim. He only hoped Malfoy would not be as much of a disappointment as his son turned out to be.
But Snape getting removed from Hogwarts was a wrinkle he hadn't prepared for, and he was regretting it now. Snape was his only link to Dumbledore. He knew that Barty's ruse wouldn't last forever, he would eventually get caught, but Snape was a more permanent mole. An inside link to Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix he now would no longer have. He briefly contemplated a way to have the trial be influenced to at least get Snape off whatever hook he'd got caught on, but he quickly dismissed that idea. There was just no way he'd be able to gain any influence over anything. Anything he could try now would more than likely expose him before he was ready. And that would be a disaster.
He had long known of Snape's 'defection' following that disastrous attack in Godric's Hollow, of course. Ever since he possessed Quirrell all those years ago, and despite Quirrell's attempt to curse Potter's broom back then, and Snape interfering — yes, he had noticed that — the idea of once again bending Snape to his will, and using him to spy on Dumbledore had been an option to him.
Now that wasn't possible. He would have to make arrangements for Snape's release after his restoration, or find and compel Slughorn to be his new Potions brewer and spy.
He closed his eyes and focused on his mental link to Potter, trying again to glean information from the boy's mind, but it was proving difficult as of late, and he suspected he knew why. The Bond Potter was forming with the Mudblood and the other two. It was partially disrupting his connection to the boy's mind, though that connection was already sporadic, given his weakened state. He'd first become aware of the link years ago, back during Potter's first year, though he hadn't been able to act on it, not until his host's body had disintegrated, anyway. He'd tried to possess the boy, but something had forced him out of Harry's head, painfully.
He had then fled, and in the intervening years, been too weakened —and too far away— to really take advantage. Now that he was no longer a shade, he had some ability to use that connection, which was how he had learned Potter was at the Quidditch World Cup, and so had told Barty to start a riot, as a warning.
But now…Now that Potter was Bonding with three witches, possibly four, the odds of him randomly connecting with one of the others in the link was a possibility, and while that wasn't entirely a negative, it did increase the odds of him being detected.
He couldn't have that. He didn't want to let the Potter brat know he was eaves dropping, either. Though the connection was stronger when the girls were asleep, or when they all were; their mental defences down, it allowed him to slip in unnoticed, though he hadn't been willing to try that lately, not since the night of the Yule Ball.
The things he had seen glimpses of had both disgusted and intrigued him. He'd honestly never thought of using his family's gift that way before. But the few glimpses he'd got of what Potter had done to the Ravenclaw girl would have made him throw up, had he been able to.
'Disgusting…why would anyone do that?' he thought, then put that disturbing imagery out of his mind as he tried to reach out to the boy again. He could sense confusion, apprehension, and annoyance…
-=-=-=-
"Are you certain Harry?" Dumbledore asked, regarding the young man and his three companions carefully.
"Yes sir, it was just like in first year, I felt a stab of pain in my scar, got feelings of anger, and saw a vision of Pettigrew being tortured, I think it's safe to say Voldemort knows about Snape."
"Hm, strange, I had hoped, or at least theorised, that the Bond you're all forming would have helped shield you're mind, that is after all, one of the benefits of the Bonding, at least for those who are not fluent in mind-magics."
"Mind magics? You mean like the memory charm?" Harry asked. Hermione shook her head.
"No, Occlumency and Legilimency. The former is the art of shielding a person's mind from an external probe, the latter is the charm that creates that probe. They're difficult to master though, some are better at one than the other, some are good at both, and some have just such a naturally chaotic mind that a Legilimens probe would never get in. Certain magical conditions make you outright immune to Legilimency, being a werewolf, for example." Daphne said, earning a raised eyebrow from Hermione, as if the girl was about to say 'I was gonna say that.'
Daphne blinked, as she realised what had just happened.
"Indeed. And it would seem that the Bonding not only acts as a form of Occlumency but also a passive form of Legilimency, as, I would surmise, the four of you have been able to mentally communicate for some time now?" Dumbledore said, as he made sure not to make eye-contact with any of them, while at the same time, locking down his own mental defences in case they did.
While it seemed the Bond between the four of them did provide a degree of passive Legilimency, he wasn't sure if it provided passive Occlumency as well, and he wasn't eager to test the theory yet. If it did, then it was possible that Voldemort's connection to Harry was simply too…direct to be fully blocked with just the Bond in play.
"Yes sir." Hermione said.
"Is there a class for this or something?" Harry asked. Dumbledore shook his head.
"Alas, no, because of the intimate nature of instruction, Occlumency is usually taught one-on-one."
It took the four a moment to work out what he meant.
"Can't you teach us professor?" Harry asked, Dumbledore sighed and shook his head.
"I'm afraid I will not be suitable." He didn't bother to mention that he didn't want to train Harry specifically because he didn't want Voldemort piggy-backing off of the link and reading his mind.
Plus the nature of a Bonded pair of minds meant they each passively protected the other, to some degree at least, and a fully formed Bond was harder to tap into than a unstable one, but still, the number of people in the Bond would make any intrusion even more difficult. Dumbledore was weighing the possible need for teaching them the skill. If he was right about the scar, and he was fairly certain he was, then Voldemort had not only a mental connection to Harry, but a physical one also, as the flesh the soul-fragment was contained in was basically a benign tumour, allowing Riddle to simply bypass any mental shield. Voldemort literally had a back door into Harry's mind.
It was just now, that door had three guard-witches.
"So if Voldemort has a link into Harry's mind, why can't we find it and block it off?" Daphne asked.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, that was…honestly a good idea, in theory anyway.
"Alas it would require one of you to constantly focus your efforts on blocking him, which would be more taxing for you, and would be easier for Harry to learn how to do on his own. As for finding it, well, that is what the Occlumency and Legilimens training would help with. Though I would advice against interacting with it, should you accidental enter his mind, or let him into your own. His is one of the sickest minds I've ever encountered." Dumbledore spoke up. While his statement was meant to deter them from trying, he also didn't want them accidentally connecting with Riddle and be exposed to that kind of mental poison, or learn about the Prophecy.
"What about Flitwick? Couldn't he teach us? Or Professor McGonagall?" Hermione asked.
Dumbledore sat back, his fingers stroking his neared in thought. "Professor Flitwick is a possibility, as is Professor McGonagall, I will speak with them, if one of them agrees I will make arrangements following the conclusion of the upcoming…difficulties."
The four teenagers exchanged looks before nodding in agreement, then, with a wave of his hand, he dismissed them.
Once they were gone, he sighed. "Occlumency training with a networked Bond…that will certainly be…interesting."
"Did I hear that right? The boy has a mental connection to that Riddle character?" came the voice of Dippet from the wall of portraits.
"Indeed he does, has had it all his life."
"Does he know?"
"He knows of the connection obviously, but not its significance. Not yet."
"When were you planning on telling him?" the portrait of Black spoke up. Albus raised an eyebrow, it wasn't like Phineas to normally get involved in day to day conversations.
"I had hoped to let him enjoy his childhood first, before burdening him with such knowledge."
"From what we've heard, that poor boy never had one of those." Another portrait, this time of a distant past Headmistress, Niamh Fitzgerald, spoke up. "And quite honestly, I'm more than a little intrigued by Potter. He managed to beat the first task of the Triwizard Tournament in a way no-one could ever have expected."
"That is just how Harry is. Doing the impossible, he has since he was a baby."
"I hope I get the chance to have a talk with him one day." Niamh said, her gaze thoughtful.
Dumbledore returned to his thoughts. He still needed to make preparations for the Trial. There was sadly nothing he could do for young Draco or his friends, but Snape? Snape he was less certain about. If he couldn't spare Snape from Azkaban, then he could at least try to mitigate any damage of information Snape knowing becoming public knowledge.
Thursday January 5th
Azkaban Dock, North Sea.
Precise Location: CLASSIFIED
Dolores Umbridge stepped off the dock as the Warden, whose name she neither knew nor cared to know, along with two guards stepped up to greet her. She pulled the thick coat around herself to ward off the chill as the rain and howling wind battered them and the walls of the giant triangular stone structure. Looking up, she saw the distorted shadows of the Dementors as they circled the building, flying in and out of open doors and windows.
"Madam Under-Secretary, this is most unusual. When I received your note the other day, I had to wonder what this could possibly be about."
"I am here to deliver notification to some recent inmates. Their trial dates have been set." The woman said, wondering if it was worth casting a Patronus.
"Ah yes, that. I received notice of that from Amelia the other day, the same day they brought in Snape actually. I assume his will be the same day. Now, if you'll follow me please." The Warden said, turning back towards the building, the two guards taking up flanking positions on either side of her.
"Please submit your wand for inspection. I remind you that there are wards in place to dispel any and all forms of concealment charms and enchantments. Anyone entering or exiting the complex must drink a flushing draught which will purge any and all potions, including Polyjuice, from your system. Wands are permitted within the cell blocks, but only Expecto Patronum or Lumos are authorised. Cast any other spell and you will be detained immediately. You will also be searched for potion vials. Any discovered will be confiscated until you leave. Potions such as Polyjuice are not permitted, and should any be found on your person, you will be detained immediately."
"And invisibility cloaks?" Dolores asked sweetly, her tone patronising. She was already aware of all of these security measures of course, which had all been put in place after Black's escape. The Warden was just reading off the script. One of the guards chuckled.
"That's what the Dementors are for."
Going through check-in was rather tedious if she were honest with herself, but it was necessary if she wanted to avoid becoming a resident.
"Who are you here to see?" the clerk at the desk asked in a bored tone, not even looking up from his form to address her, something that made her scowl. She'd be sure to look up this individual when she got back to the Ministry. Maybe he would like a change in scenery? Perhaps the Goblin Liaison Office?
"Draco Malfoy, Millicent Bulstrode, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Severus Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange." Dolores said. At the last name, the clerk looked up, his eyes meeting hers curiously, though there was little to no recognition in those eyes.
"Why on Earth would you want to see that rabid dog? No-one has come to see her in…ever."
"That is my business. I would speak with her first." Dolores snapped, as the Warden cleared her, and she was escorted through, accompanied by one of the guards.
A silver fox trotted ahead of them, the tip of the guard's wand glowing as they worked their way through the dank and dark corridors of the Maximum Security Wing. Passing empty cells, and those that weren't empty, though the occupants barely reacted to their presence, until they reached the one they sought.
Dolores took a moment to examine her. Bellatrix Lestrange was sat curled up on her bed, murmuring to herself. Her face was pale and gaunt, eyes sunken and wide, wild with insanity, the symptom of a fractured mind. Her clothes threadbare, her flesh looked like it was hanging off her skeleton, hair matted, nails yellowed and cracked, though Dolores noted she could only see one of Bellatrix's hands, she couldn't see the other, seemingly hidden in her lap. She focused her eyes, trying to see through the gloom, then her eyes widened as she saw where the hidden hand was, and what it was doing.
She looked like a corpse that hadn't realised it was dead yet.
Dolores wrinkled her nose as she stepped closer. The woman smelled like a corpse as well.
"Lestrange. You have a visitor." The guard snapped, tapping the bars with a foot.
Bellatrix looked up, eyes wide, unfocused as the looked around, before they settled on her, and she smiled, the grin was cruel and mocking.
"A visitor? A visitor for Bella?" she asked.
"Hello Bella." Dolores said sweetly.
"Who are you?" the woman in the cell asked. "Have you come to listen to the songs too? They're wonderful! I never knew shadows could sing until I came here!"
"Dolores Umbridge, Senior Under-Secretary to the Minister for Magic."
"The Minister? Oooh! Does he sing too? I liked it when the Muggles and Mudbloods sing. Their songs were so lovely when they used to sing for Bella! Especially the little ones! All they needed was to be told the magic word!" the woman cackled.
"No, I'm afraid the Minister is not much of a singer. And before you ask, neither am I. I'm here to make you an offer."
Bella sat up, her wild purple eyes fixed on Dolores, the crazy smile replaced by a sneer. "Everybody sings for Bella eventually. My favourites were the muggles and the Longbottoms, they sang such a beautiful operas for me. Even their weetle Nevy sang for Bella, oh he was special! There's something about the way the really young ones sing to me…it gets me…so…wet…"
Bellatrix closed her eyes briefly and seemed to pause, before her body gave an almost imperceptible shake and she let out a little sigh, then she continued, ignoring the sound of disgust the guard made as she opened her eyes and looked at Dolores again, and this time, Dolores could faintly hear the shtick shtick shtick coming from the occupant of the cell, making it clear to the Under-Secretary what Bellatrix had been doing before she arrived, and was apparently still doing.
"Mmm…Just remembering it keeps me going here. Little Nevy was so cute! Shame the Aurors came and ruined my fun before I could get off. Don't you just hate it when you're about to have a truly bone-shaking orgasm, and someone just ruins it?" she asked rhetorically, tilting her head at she looked between Umbridge and the guard, the latter looked like he was about to be ill.
'Pfft! No balls that one.' She thought, before turning back to the neutral-faced woman and continued, "I did love playing with muggles too. Making them sing while their loved ones danced and sang to the tune of a Crucio. Oh, the number of orgasms I had with this one family, teaching their little ones to sing! I had some good ones that night!" Bellatrix leaned back, sighing with a twisted, demented smile as the hand Dolores hadn't seen emerged from the threadbare waistband of her prison-issue trousers, her fingers glistening as they were raised to Bellatrix's waiting mouth.
Out of the corner of her eye, Dolores saw the guard looked like he wanted to either curse the woman or throw up, maybe both. She wasn't going to get anywhere with him standing there, she couldn't risk him telling anyone what she was about to discuss with Bellatrix.
"I need to speak with her alone for a moment."
"I'm sorry ma'am, but protocol doesn't allow it. All visitors are to be accompanied and under the watch of at least one guard at all times. Because of…well…"
He pointed up into the high ceiling of the corridor, which was covered in a fine layer of fog. Dolores looked up, just in time to see a skeletal wraith glide out of the fog and dive straight for them.
The chill that Dolores had felt since entering the Maximum Security Wing suddenly spiked, and long buried memories started to resurface.
She remembered her parents last time together, of their fierce fight, where her mother had kicked her father out of the house after finding out he'd been seeing some Knockturn Alley whore behind her back, and to add insult to injury, she'd found out later, when she'd followed her mother to track down the interloper, they had discovered the whore in question had been a muggle-born.
"Back!" The guard yelled, raising his wand, and the silver fox leapt into the air to intercept the creature which veered away before the apparition could touch it.
"That is why a guard must always be present." The guard panted, looking more than a little frazzled.
"I can handle myself thank you. It will only be a moment. If you like, I can offer a pay rise, or even a transfer to a more pleasant posting." Dolores said. At this the guard perked up. She took note of his name tag: 'CHRISTOPHER FITZGERALD' yes, perhaps a warmer, less hostile posting would be appreciated.
"Really? That bastard Malfoy talked with Fudge then I wound up here, all because I apparently 'looked at him wrong' or something!" the man snorted, "At least now I get to rub his face in it now his little brat is here."
A few more exchanged words and the guard stepped away. Dolores turned back to the cell, taking note of the cackling wretch sat on the bed.
'Now, lets see if this works.'
"Now then Bella dear, lets talk. About the Dark Lord. Tell me, do you know his full name?"
At these words, Bellatrix perked up, her crazy eyes focusing intently on her.
"His name is Sacrosanct! He, one Death itself can not catch! He is still out there, just biding his time! He will come and free those who are most loyal! I'm sure of it!"
"Actually, his name is Thomas Riddle, named for his father. Come now, you seriously expect me to believe all of you thought his mother named him 'Voldemort'? Surely you must have wondered?" Dolores countered.
"It doesn't matter what other monikers people give him! He is the Dark Lord! The Conqueror of the light! Slayer of Mudbloods!" Bellatrix preened, piratically swooned. Dolores started to have doubts about her little plan.
"A Dark Lord he may have claimed to be." Dolores said, deciding to go right for the jugular. "But what he actually was was a Pretender. He was a Half-Blood. A descendant of Slytherin yes, but on his mother's side. His father was a muggle. And as for him being the 'Slayer' of Mudbloods, well, that doesn't hold much wieght when it was a Mudblood that got him killed via her baby son."
The crazy woman's reaction was so fast the only thing that saved Dolores was the fact that she wasn't standing close to the bars. With a feral hiss like a cat or snake, Bellatrix leapt off the bed and charged the bars, sticking a hand through them trying to claw and grab at her as she took a step back.
"LIAR! HERETIC! BLASPHEMER!" the mad woman screamed, her eyes completely manic with murderous rage, spittle flying from her cracked lips as she spat at Dolores. "The Dark Lord is PURE! I'll make you SUFFER for saying such slanderous filth Mudblood lover!"
Dolores bristled, her own temper rising. "I am no Mudblood lover. I am the Senior Under-Secretary for the Minister of Magic. And I have heard whispers that Half-breed isn't as dead as people think. I will need support apposing him if he is to return. Wizarding society should be ruled by those of pure breeding and status, not half-breed abominations that wipe out any who question them, on both sides of the bloodline. Unfortunately, Fudge and his sycophants will all most likely stick their heads in the proverbial sand if he does return."
"And you thought to acquire this 'support' by poaching from his most loyal? All those who fell at his wand before did so because of their own foolishness! And my master does not suffer fools!" Bellatrix seethed. At this, Dolores knew her endeavour was a failure. Bellatrix was too far gone, too brainwashed. Though, she reflected privately, even if she had convinced the woman to turn on Riddle, she would have had to be under constant watch.
"I thought to recruit from those whom he had lied the most." Dolores snapped, huffing her frustration.
"The only one lying here is you. And I promise you, should I ever get out of here, and our paths meet, I will make you sing…"
With a sigh, Dolores turned away, she wasn't getting anywhere with Bellatrix. Still, Bella hadn't been the only reason she'd come, there was still Draco and his associates.
-=-
Harry looked down at the grey rabbit on the pillow in front of him dubiously. The last time he'd been around a rabbit in transfiguration, it had gone on a killing spree before McGonagall had managed to put a stop to it.
Today was another animal transfiguration lesson, only this time, they each had a different animal to change, and a different animal to change it to. He had a rabbit, and was supposed to turn it into a duck. Hermione had a mouse, and was assigned the task of turning it into a hedgehog.
Neville had a large white rooster sat on his desk, and had been assigned the task of turning it into a dog.
Ron had a duck, a large all black drake with a white stripe around its neck, which was supposed to end up as a pig.
Susan was the first to attempt her transfiguration. Turning her sparrow into a larger bird with a mostly white colour pattern, with black-brown and white strips on its wings, neck, tail and head. A crest on its head, large bill and a long tail. Susan sat staring in surprise at what she'd created.
"Impressive Miss Bones, though I don't believe I asked for a Roadrunner." McGonagall said with a smile. Susan blushed and opened her mouth to apologise and try again, when Daphne turned her hamster into a large brown dog with huge pointed ears. It looked around confused, until its gaze settled on the aforementioned Roadrunner.
"Oh my god…" Hermione grinned as she tried to contain her laughter, much to the confusion of the pure-bloods in the room, as she eyed the two animals, already knowing what was about to happen.
The coyote and the roadrunner stared at each other, before the predator licked its lips, and the bird let out a rapid chirp that Hermione could have sworn sounded like meep-meep! before it jumped off the table and ran for the door, the coyote right behind it. The roadrunner reached the door and somehow managed to throw it open before disappearing through it.
Hermione lost her struggle to stop herself laughing, as did several of the other Muggle-borns present, but always taking things in stride, McGonagall flicked her wand and the two animals soon came flying back into the room, reverting to their previous forms.
"Please try again ladies, and remember to focus."
Ron tried next, but no matter what he tried, the duck just wouldn't transform. If anything, it started to stare at him in a rather incredulous way, until it finally opened its bill and tried to quack at him, only for for the call of a cockerel to leave its bill, which promptly snapped shut. It tried again, producing a sound that reminded Harry and Hermione of a monkey. Then it became agitated, flapping its wings and dancing around the desk, opening its bill and squawking various animal sounds at Ron who stared at it in shock, before finally…
"…and I've never been so humiliated in all my life!"
The entire class sat, stunned, staring at the duck that had just yelled at Ron in English after squawking at him in almost every other animal language known.
Next was Hermione, who with some trepidation, managed to transfigure her mouse into…something.
It was large, maybe the size of a Puffskein, covered in fur, and an orange-pink colour, with a small V shaped tuft of hair towards one end, which seemed to denote the creature's 'head'. It was also cooing and purring, especially when Hermione picked it up and started stroking it.
"Miss Granger, that looks like a Puffskein, not a turkey." McGonagall said. Hermione blushed.
"Uh, I know, its a Tribble. Don't worry, I won't feed it or anything. Don't want to end up with over a million of them after three days." Hermione said somewhat embarrassed, before she reverted the transformation and tried again, this time creating the turkey. McGonagall awarded her 10 points for a successful transfiguration, but made no comment on why feeding a 'tribble' would be a bad idea.
Harry tried next, staring at the grey rabbit who looked back at him, nose twitching nervously, before he cast his spell. The rabbit shivered momentarily, before its form shifted and morphed, becoming larger, and eventually settling into the form of a large swan.
"Excellent Mister Potter. Another 10 points to Gryffindor."
McGonagall then turned her attention to Neville, who had been trying unsuccessfully to turn his rooster into a dog, when suddenly, the chicken squawked in alarm before its form shrank and it became more amphibian in appearance, resembling a large toad with huge multicoloured, osculating eyes.
Almost immediately, the room filled with an odd buzzing hum that made everyone's ears tingle in an odd way. McGonagall looked down at the toad as it looked back up at her, and her eyes went glassy and dazed, her face losing its stern expression.
"Urm, Professor? Are you alright?" Neville asked.
"I am fine." McGonagall said in a strange, monotone voice. "10 points to Gryffindor. 1000 points to the Hypnotoad."
"The what?" several students murmured.
While everyone was distracted with the strange toad, the swan Harry had just transfigured gingerly climbed into his lap, distracting him enough to stop him being hypnotised by the toad, then proceeded to stand in his lap then press its chest against his, then stretched out with its wings and to his amazement, hugged him.
"I know magical animals are intelligent, but I think even this is a bit much." He muttered as the swan stared at him intently, before lowering its head to press its, or rather, her bill against his neck. Then she dipped her head and grabbed his quill in her bill, then, rather jerkily, it wrote the words 'Call me Leda, handsome.' on his parchment sheet before she turned her head to nuzzle his neck again.
Fortunately, Hermione was able to reverse Neville's transfigured toad, which snapped McGonagall out of her trance. After admonishing Neville to be more careful, and docking the 10 points she'd awarded, Hermione also reverted the swan that was getting rather comfortable in her boyfriend's lap.
She almost hexed it when it started wiggling its hind quarters into his lap. Clearly the female swan had found something she really liked the feel of, and was taking full advantage of her position to grind against that particular spot, causing Harry's face to flush red with embarrassment. With a flick of her wand, the swan was back on the table, and with a second flick, it reverted back to a rabbit.