Chapter 3 - Animal Kingdoms
Don't expect much more, sorry.
#
"Harry, can I ask you for a big favour," said Hermione's voice from somewhere to the left of where Harry was once again failing to achieve the blissful nothingness state of mind one of his mediation books referred to.
Of course most people would just say he was trying to nap.
"Shush," he said. "Sleeping"
"No you're not," she answered. "When you are actually, asleep you move around a lot more."
"Good to know," said Harry, thinking about how some people always seemed to be able to tell. "If I pinned a sign to my chest saying I was, do you think more people would leave me alone?"
"No."
"Thought not," he said, opening his eyes and sitting up. "So anyway, go ahead and ask."
It went without saying that he wasn't promising to do anything beside listen to her ask.
"I need you keep Crookshanks in your common room for a few days. Dumb-head Ron is making a fuss over the fact his stupid rat doesn't know to keep away from a cat and it's completely unfair to keep Crookshanks locked in my bedroom while that ugly thing gets to wander all over the common room."
"Who, Ron?"
"No," she sighed. "His filthy rat. Scabs or whatever its name is."
"Ah, yes. Low maintenance one he is. Bit on the smelly side, even for a rat, but no real taking care of required at all," said Harry, turning to look at Hermione and her giant pet. "I'm not sure why you are asking me to care for another living creature though – it's not like I am the most responsible person around."
"True," admitted Hermione, "but the only other person Crookshanks has tolerated is Luna, and she keeps trying to comb Nagles out of his fur with a chilli pepper while explaining to him how to hunt wild books."
Harry knew better than ask what Nargles were, or wild books for that matter.
"Hmm, okay," he said. "I'll take him into the common room and set him free, but you know I am not going to do much more than that, right? I mean the wards should keep him inside, and the house elves usually take care of the pets, but if he has any special needs or anything, I am so not your Huckleberry."
"I know you like cats," said Hermione handing over the plus-sized pussy. "So I trust you to keep an eye out for him, just for a few days until things calm down. Now, go with Harry, Crookshanks, and Mummy will see you soon."
She gave her pet one last pat before turning away, and Harry was sure he could the glint of a tear in her eyes.
"Well, Shanks, I guess it's just you and me then," he told the heavy animal. "Hey, you wouldn't mind helping me with a little project, would you?"
Crookshanks did not reply.
#
"Harry, there's a rather irate Gryffindor at the door demanding to see you," called one of the seemingly never-ending string of nameless prefects several days later.
"Does she have red hair?" asked Harry, not relaxing his stare for even a micro second.
"Now, but her face is a bit red. She looks rather peaky, truth be told."
"Tell her I'm not here-"
"Harry!" snarled Hermione, barging her way into the common room. "Where is my cat - oh, there you are, Crookshanks."
She ran over and went to pick up the unmoving animal from where it sat in front of Harry, returning his stare, only to be stopped by several of the Hufflepuffs she didn't notice standing around the unlikely pair.
"Sorry, Hermione," said Justin. "You can't interrupt them now, not for another five minutes anyway."
"Ten, not five," added an older student from the other side of the room. "My money is on thirty five."
"Five minutes? What?' she asked, attempting unsuccessfully to step around Justin. "Why? What's going on here? What are you doing with my cat?"
"Shush," said Harry. "Animagus training."
"What! What the hell?" demanded Hermione, tugging her arm from Justin's gentle but firm grip.
"Relax," said one of the prefects. "Nobody is doing anything to your cat, well, except Potter, who is about to make me three galleons in three, two, one - Now!"
Hermione wasn't sure what to expect and prepared herself to pull out her wand.
Nothing happened.
Several people groaned and money started changing hands.
Harry and Crookshanks didn't move.
"If I don't get some answers in the next two seconds-", started Hermione as menacingly as possible, which was surprisingly menacing actually.
"It's like this," explained Susan, coming over to Hermione. "Harry has this dream of becoming an Animagus, a cat animagus specifically."
"Harry, an animagus? That's, that's-" stuttered Hermione.
"Ambitious?" offered Susan.
"Ridiculous?" suggested Ernie.
"A joke?" said Justin.
"A dream," stated Harry, then cursed loudly as he realised he had blinked as he spoke, the vision of his goal momentarily disrupting his concentration.
Loud groans alternated with cheers as more money changed hands around the room and the crowd began to disperse.
"Bugger," swore Harry, rubbing his eyes and then reaching over to pat Crookshanks fondly on the head.
Crookshanks purred loudly and began grooming himself with an air of satisfaction.
"Anyway," said Susan, continuing her tale. "Harry has been spending so much time studying Crookshanks that it became a sort of a competition to see who would look away first. Crookshanks is winning so far - five to three I believe."
"You are betting on a cat staring contest?" asked Hermione still somewhat bewildered.
"Yeah. Hey don't judge, it gets pretty boring around here sometimes," said Ernie.
At this point, Hermione wondered if Nargle combing would not have been a better choice.
Hufflepuffs were decidedly weird.
#
There was something strange about the new Defence against the Arts Professor, decided Harry, and it was not just that he had not yet taken any special interest in, or tried to kill, Harry.
For starters, he seemed to really know his stuff, and in Harry's rather limited experience, that was just odd.
Mind you, the lesson plan appeared to be designed to cover many aspects of Care of Magical Creatures, almost as if the overlap was done on purpose to cover for Hagrid's rather spotty, although interesting, teaching. So they still weren't learning much in the way of defence against people using the dark arts, but they were learning something.
Then there was the matter of the way Lupin disappeared for a few days here and there after looking increasingly stressed.
The first time it happened, Harry was certain the seemingly sensible man had made a run for it, but he came back, although looking like he had gone a few rounds with one of Hagrid's 'cuddlier' pets.
Harry's thought that somebody had caught him trying to escape and dragged him back didn't seem to bear out as Lupin didn't appear to hold any grudge against any of the other Professors, not even Snape.
Must be a drunk, thought Harry. That would certainly explain a lot, like the ragged clothes, the generally unkept appearance, Snape's obvious loathing (although that could just have been the potion master's usual disposition; it was pretty hard to tell), the missing days, and of course, how he had been roped into the famously cursed position to begin with.
The headmaster had probably abducted him off a park bench somewhere and loaded him onto the train before the poor guy knew what was happening.
Mystery solved (or close enough), Harry returned his attention to the subject matter currently under discussion in an entirely different class that was proving to be a lot more disappointing than he had hoped.
"Hieroscopy is the Roman soothsayer art of diving the future using bird entrails," droned the hippy-haired, bug-eyed Professor from the other side of the smoke filled class room in what could only be described and the worst 'mysterious' voice ever.
What is it with animals this year? thought Harry to himself with more than a little disgust, his magic eight ball sitting practically unused in his bag.
#
Loping silently, Padfoot cautiously made his way along the dark passageway. It was well after curfew, but he well knew how often students would likely be sneaking about.
A quiet scurrying noise made him instantly freeze, one paw still raised in the air.
Seconds ticked by as he waited, completely motionless, but nothing else happened. He was about to write it off as his imagination, or one of the students many pets, and move on when it started again.
It was a most un-pet-like noise, sounding more like rustling paper, and it was coming closer.
Suddenly, something stepped around the corner.
It was a book.
A somehow angry looking book.
A somehow angry looking book running on its opened edge like a weird spider.
And it was somehow now looking at him.
He looked back in shock.
They stood looking at each other for another moment, and then the book suddenly lurched forward, obviously deciding to attack.
Sirius instantly prepared himself to fight and was in the process of leaping forward when two small figures suddenly burst out of nowhere and fell upon the book.
Barely managing to catch himself, Sirius skidded to a stop.
"Bad book!" whispered one of the attacking house elves as it wrestled the book to the ground and tried to tie it up with a short length of rope.
"Naughty, naughty, naughty," whispered the other one angrily, thumping the book with a candlestick almost as large as itself.
In short order they had the book bound and under control.
"I been telling youse theys been breeding," said the first elf as it hoisted the still struggling book onto its back.
Then both elves suddenly stopped and turn to look up at the dumbstruck Sirius still sitting on his haunches nearby.
"Yous not be telling anybodies about dis, will yous, big dogsy?" asked the second elf, hefting his club rather menacingly.
Sirius dumbly shook his head, too astounded to do anything else.
"Good dogsy," said the elf. "Maybes you come by kitchens and we's be giving you foods for being such a good dogsy."
Sirius just stared.
"Good boy," said the first elf, then they glanced at each other before disappearing with a sharp 'crack'.
Sirius sat for a minute more, trying to process what he had just witnessed. In the end, he gave up and continued on his way to find and Peter.
Maybe afterwards he would swing by the kitchens.
#
"But Professor, I was so scared by Black being in the castle I just couldn't possibly do my assignments," explained Harry sincerely to the doubtful looking Transfiguration Professor.
"I haven't slept in days," said Harry in the most pitiful voice he could muster, which was quite pitiful at that, to the Charms Professor. "I can barely think, let alone do assignments."
"I've been too terrified to even think about going outside," he told Professor Sprout a slight quiver of fear in his voice. "What if Black gets sane enough not to mistake a rat for me next time?"
"You know the drill," he said to Snape.
#
"Harry," said Susan, interrupting the sleeping-upright-with-his-eyes-open-Harry. "Can I have some of your parchment, since you won't be using it and I am out at the moment."
"Eh?" asked Harry, shaking his head to wake up fully.
He was still sitting in front of the fireplace in the common room, a book sitting in his hands and his school bag contents spread out on the low table in front of him, looking for all the world like he had been studying for hours.
"You've been snoring for the last twenty minutes, so it's pretty obvious you are not doing your assignments," she elaborated. "I need some parchment to finish, please."
"Oh, okay, here," said Harry, reaching into the mess in front of him and pulling out a roll to hand over. "But I was studying."
He couldn't see the point in explaining how his sleep reading worked again, but still strangely felt the need to defend himself this year, especially to the girls for some reason.
"Thanks, oh, wait on. This isn't blank," said Susan unrolling the scroll.
"Oh, sorry," said Harry, sorting through the pile to dig out another, hopefully empty scroll.
"Hang on, this is last week's transfiguration assignment," said Susan, unrolling the original scroll more.
"Yeah, so?" asked Harry, continuing to search.
"But I distinctly recall you didn't hand this in," she answered sounding very confused.
Harry stopped and concentrated for a moment.
"Yeah, probably not," he said, with a shrug. "I don't really remember."
"Why didn't you?" she asked, scanning through it. "I can't see anything very wrong with it."
Harry sighed. He didn't want to explain, but she was the type of person who would keep bugging him if he didn't, and he occasionally felt an odd need to justify himself to people that he thought he had squashed out of himself years ago.
"If I handed every assignment in, the professors would start demanding more from me," said Harry. "First it would be, 'oh you didn't put in enough detail', and then it would be 'oh you could have had more references', and finally 'I know you can do better than this', – it would just go on and on and they would never be satisfied.
"This way, when we get close to the exams, I'll start handing them in, and they'll all think I'm making a real effort and will be happy no matter how average my work is because they will think they have gotten through to me," he finished, a huge grin on his face.
"But why are you doing the work, if you don't intend to hand it in?" asked Hannah, who had come over half way through Harry's explanation.
"Well I do need some practice, but this way I don't have to worry too much about if it is perfect, or if it's on time, etcetera."
Both girls looked at each other then shook their heads at Harry's self-satisfied grin and strange reasoning.
"You know, Harry, you really shouldn't antagonise the professors all of the time," said Susan.
"I don't specifically do it to antagonise them on purpose," said Harry. "Well, aside from Snape that is, and he deserves it."
Neither of them could disagree with that.
#
"Harry, can I see you for a moment?" asked Professor Lupin as the rest of the students fled the defence classroom after the lesson.
Harry sighed. He really thought he was going to get away with it for a bit longer.
"Yes, sir?" he asked politely, still hoping it was about something different.
"It's about your last assignment, your last three assignments actually," explained Lupin.
Harry tried his puppy-dog eyes.
"Yes, sir?" he said, feigning innocence.
"You can put that look away, young man. Your father was master of it and I am quite immune after many years of exposure-"
"Wait, you knew my father?" asked Harry quickly.
"Well, yes," said Lupin caught by surprise at Harry's sudden change in demeanor.
"Were you his teacher too?" asked Harry excitedly.
"His teacher? Good Merlin no. Just how old do you think I am? No – don't answer that - I don't think I want to know. I went to school with your father, all seven years. We were actually quite close," said Lupin.
"And my mum? Did you know her too?" asked Harry even more excitedly. "Can you tell me about them? Please? I don't really know anything about them at all."
Hours later, after Harry was long gone, Lupin looked down at the batch of Harry's assignments.
"Son of a – ," swore Lupin to himself, realising he had been had and Harry had successfully distracted him from reprimanding the boy on his work ethic(or lack thereof), but unable to find a suitable derogatory term to use.
All four of Harry's assignments were identical, aside from the heading and dates, and consisted of a single, neatly written answer:
Kill it with fire.
Harry's four-word answer to the question of how to handle four vastly different creatures was technically correct, but completely violated the spirit and intention of the assignment.
"-a Marauder," finished Lupin in a lighter tone, a smile curling the corners of his mouth and his spirit lifting higher than at almost any point in the previous dozen years. "Son of a Marauder."
#
"Lads, I can't help notice that you somehow seem to always be well provisioned when it comes to the finer things in life," said Harry, plonking down on the seat next to the Weasley twins, Fred and George.
There were not many people brave enough to bring themselves to the attention of the notorious pranksters, but Harry was never worried, mainly because he figured it wouldn't make much difference even if he was.
"Are you referring to our never ending bevy of beauties?" asked one of the twins, nodding his head as a dark skinned girl walked by their library table smiling shyly.
"No, although that is another area of interest," admitted Harry. "I was actually talking about the abundant quantity of Hogsmeade merchandise you appear to have access to."
"Ah," said the other twin. "Run out of goodies already have you, despite going on your first trip only a scant few weeks ago?"
"For shame," added the first twin. "You would think a bright lad like yourself would learn to pace himself, but no, ate his way through the whole stash in a single sitting I'd warrant."
"And was likely sick from class the next day," said the second.
"For shame," they finished together.
"No, actually," said Harry, reaching into one of his many pockets to partially bring forth a bottle of Butterbeer, demonstrating he was far from exhausting his own supply of goodies. "I still have plenty left, for now."
"Oh he's a clever one this one, George," said the first twin.
"Indeed," agreed George. "Which begs the question of why he is here bothering us then."
"Well, I really enjoyed going to Hogsmead, that's for sure," explained Harry, "but I really object to the walk back."
"Uphill most of the way, if I recall correctly," said Fred.
"Indeed it is," agreed George. "I've heard from our younger brother, who sometimes likes to give the impression you are his best mate, Harry, that you are a bit adverse to things like carrying a heavy load of bounty up a hill."
"Adverse to walking in general, if I recall certain tales about a flying carpet and the niece of the current Director of Law enforcement last year correctly," said Fred.
"You are both right, except that my pockets make the actual size of the load pretty much inconsequential," said Harry.
"Then how can we be of service?" asked George. "It seems you'll only have to make one or two trips to be fully provisioned for the remainder of the year."
"Well, as I said, I really liked going there," explained Harry. "Despite all the professors and their warnings of a dire end at the hands of a black man, which I frankly find quite prejudice, it was fun, and I'd like to go every time, but I really don't want to have to walk all that way back. I figured, since you two seem to be able to get there and back at any time, you must have a shortcut or alternate form of transport of some sort."
"Funny you should ask about that," said Fred.
"We were just now wondering ourselves who we might teach the ways of the wicked, and here you are asking about secrets," said George.
"It must be fate," said Fred.
"Indeed, Fred, indeed," said the other twin, presumably George, although it was actually impossible to tell, and Harry didn't really care anyway. "We have long ago mastered the highways and byways of this sacred institution, and feel the need to pass on our knowledge, and then you suddenly appear."
"Well I have made some pretty good progress in mastering the secrets of the stairs," said Harry. "I can almost halve the distance I have to travel between classes by timing it right."
"Ah, yes, you have indeed, little one, we have noticed that, but you have barely scratched the surface of the many secret tunnels within the school," said Fred.
"And none of those without," finished George.
"So it's true - you sneak out? When you need stuff?" asked Harry.
"We do," the twins agreed together.
"Through a secret tunnel or something?"
"One of the few unguarded entries and exits," said George.
"But you actually make the trip yourselves, every time?" asked Harry. "I was rather hoping to find out there was some sort of a delivery system or something that I could hitch a ride on."
"We did have a car that we had planned on using this year, but unfortunately it escaped and hasn't been seen since," said George.
"Poor old Bluey," lamented Fred. "All alone out in the wilderness - I fear he has come to a bad end."
"But enough of lost opportunities and stolen vehicles that have gone rogue and caused a major flood of howlers from our easily upset mother," said George. "Here is how you can get to Hogsmeade and back in record time."
"And do it at any time you want," added Fred.
Harry missed the glint that flashed in the pranksters eyes as they began detailing the 'short cut' through the tunnel to Hogsmeade, and he definitely missed an explanation of how this tunnel made the journey shorter, but since it didn't, it wouldn't have matter anyway.
Later that month, while stumbling through the poorly lit tunnel leading back into the castle, Harry actually regretted his laziness in not questioning the twins more about their 'secret'.
It was one of the few times something seriously brought his outlook on life into question, but then he shrugged it off and didn't bother giving it any further thought.
After all, what's one little set back in the greater scheme of things?
#
"Reportses," ordered Tinsi, her saucepan hat once again falling down over her eyes.
"We's is losings the second pantry and the lower storeroom," said Gutsy, his own colander helmet now fitting quite well due to the large number of dents and teeth marks in it.
"That's is not good," said Tinsi. "We's be needing more recruities."
"Where's we be getting recruities?" asked Gutsy. "We's already pulling elves from cleanings. Soon there be nobody left to cooks and cleans."
"We be finding more recruities, or we be losing dis war," announced Tinsi in a dreadful voice. "Then there be's no ones to cook or clean ever again!"
"No," countered Gutsy. "We's needs to ask for help from master sirs."
The sharp intake of breath from all the elves within hearing range actually lowered the airpressure of the immediate area enough for a few of them to come close to passing out.
"Nobody ever asks master sirs for things," objected another elf who had not yet cleaned well enough to earn a name.
A round of mumbled agreement arose from the throng.
"Yes, we's have," countered Gutsy. "One wizard helps us before."
"Harry Potter sirs!"
"Yes, Harry Potter sirs," agreed Gutsy. "We be asking for help from the great Harry Potter sirs, and he be helping us."
An excited hum of approval now rumbled through the crowd.
#
"Professor Lupin? Oh I already know his secret," said Harry confidently. "I'm surprised nobody else has said anything."
"You worked it out too?" asked Hermione, sounding quite impressed.
"Yeah, ages ago," said Harry. "At first I thought he was a drunk, but I figured it out later when I realised he didn't stink enough. Mind you, I used to see them all the time down the street near the shops, so I suppose I had a bit of an advantage."
"You used to see them, out in the open and recognise them?" asked Hermione.
"Yeah, they were always walking up and down the street down there. It was a pretty bad area, scum everywhere."
"Harry!" said Hermione sternly. "That's no way to talk about those unfortunately people. It's not their fault they are like this."
"True, I suppose," said Harry with a shrug. "At least she looks like a man. Some of the ones I saw looked nothing like a woman, despite their dresses and make up. Not even Vernon was fooled, although I think Dudley probably was. I wonder how she's grown the moustache? Magic I suppose."
Hermione's brow creased in puzzlement as she tried to process Harry's comments.
"Harry," she said hesitantly. "What exactly do you think Professor Lupin is?"
"I can't remember the name of them, transvestitutes or something? You know, the people that like to dress and act like a member of the opposite sex. There was even a bit about them in the stupid 'Your body and you' book we all got at the beginning of the year.
"Transvestite? You think Professor Lupin is a Transvestite? Why?" asked Hermione, trying unsuccessfully to hide her grin.
"Well, he always gets sort of grumpy and short tempered, and then goes missing for a few days every month. I read in that book that some women have a really bad time with their – you know," Harry explained, starting off a bit defensively but fading off in embarrassment.
Hermione blushed and cleared her throat.
"Yes, well, er, no Harry, Professor Lupin is not a woman dressing up as a man. He is a werewolf."
"Oh," said Harry, not sure whether he should feel embarrassed, relieved, or worried.
In the end, he decided it was all too much trouble to feel any of those and so just figured he would ignore it, except -
"You, er, you won't tell anybody what I thought, will you?" asked Harry.
Hermione's feral grin was not reassuring
#
Sirius was seriously worried.
After his last failed attempt at getting the rat, it had gone into hiding, making it a lot more difficult to have his revenge, but that wasn't the worrying part.
No, the worrying part was he was starting to wonder about what he was doing. It had seemed so clear before, after the Minister's newspaper exposed Peter's survival. He would escape, find Peter, eat him (or at least chew him to pieces if not actually swallow him, since that would be disgusting on so many levels), and then…
Well that was the problem really, 'and then'. He vaguely recalled thoughts about going to his grave happy, or growing wings and flying off to a castle in the sky filled with big-breasted pixies or something, but he was pretty sure a lot of that had to do with the strange molds he used to lick off the walls of his cell after staying as Padfoot for a bit too long.
Now that he had spent a fair bit of time away from the Dementors, and the tasty mold, the plan no longer seemed all that viable. Hell, he was starting to consider the possibility that sitting around in the forbidden forest all day plotting revenge while cleaning his personal bits with his tongue just might not be the most productive use of his time when half of the magical world was actively hunting him.
Maybe he should be working out a way to truly escape, to get out of Britain and off to somewhere where bands of Dementors weren't swarming around hungrily searching to make a tasty snack of his immortal soul.
He had stumbled across the nest of a car a few days ago, a small blue and rather beat up Anglia that was jumping from tree to tree in a reasonably successful attempt to fly. Although it was obviously magical, he could probably capture it and use it to get just about anywhere he wanted to go, especially if it really was learning to fly.
He could even go someplace where he could get a hold of a proper supply of food, instead of the occasional careless things that inhabited the forest, and maybe steal a wand, or even just find a place where he could and take a hot bath and scrub a decade of prison off his skin and feel like a normal wizard again.
Nah – that was crazy talk.
Back to the self cleaning then, while he imagined yet another way to lure the Rat into a bear trap with an anvil hanging above it.
#
Harry's sudden yell startled half of the common room into silence. The other half just ignored him with the same indifference they treated everything unusual or outright weird in the magical world, which was pretty much everything really.
"Harry? Are you okay?" asked Susan out of politeness.
Harry blinked a few times and looked around, looking quite dazed.
"Harry?" Susan asked again, actually getting concerned.
Susan and a few other Puffs had been casually sitting around chatting, with Harry in his usual chair, either sleeping or choosing not to take part in the conversation (due to his charmed glasses it was usually hard to tell, and he never seemed to grasp the idea it was rude to fall asleep like that, no matter how many times people told him), when the suddenly outburst from him caught them by all by surprise.
"Did I say anything?" he asked after a few more confused looking moments.
"What?"
"Did I say anything, when I woke up? Did I talk?"
"Er, no. You just yelled," answered Hannah.
"Scared the crap outta me," say Justin, getting up from where he had fallen out of his chair.
"Yelled? No words? Nothing mystical or profound?"
"No mate, just an unholy yell," said Ernie, using his wand to clean the drink he spilled at Harry's outburst off his robes.
"Damn it," swore Harry.
"Was it a nightmare?" asked Susan, still looking concerned.
"What? No," said Harry distractedly. "I was practising."
"Practising what? To scare the hell out of people?" asked Justin, a bit resentfully. "Congrats, it worked."
"No, smart-arse. I was practicing for Divination."
An eerie silence enveloped the small group.
"What?" Harry asked, feeling uncomfortable at having a group of people staring at him but not saying anything.
"We are waiting for the explanation," said Susan. "Since we all know you don't take any class except charms seriously, there is no way you were actually practising some sort of divination."
"Well, no," agreed Harry. "I wasn't actually practising Divination as such. I was practising FOR divination."
"Come on," said Justin after a few more expectation filled silent moments. "Tell. You owe us for scaring a year out of me."
"Yeah. If you have a scam going I want in," agreed Ernie. "That class is driving me batty."
"It's a load of bunk," said Susan. "But you still have to learn all of the technical side of it to pass- like what card means what and how they affect each other's meanings."
"True," said Harry. "But-"
"Oh Merlin, here it comes," said Hannah, wondering if putting her fingers into her ears might spare the mental pain Harry's explanation was likely to cause.
"Some seers sort of black-out, or go into a trance, and give their prophecies that way. I figured if I can fake that a few times, then Hippy-lady will leave me alone and I can snooze my way through her class without interruption."
"That's not bad," admitted Ernie after a mere moment of thought. "So how are you going to do it?"
"I've been trying a sort of post hypnotic suggestion thing, but it's obviously not working," said Harry.
"It's doing something," said Justin. "I'll testify you don't wake up like that normally."
"Yeah, but I need to fake making a prophecy, so I need words, or word-like sounds at least, to be coming out when I wake up."
"That could be dangerous," said Susan. "Or embarrassing. What if you say something really didn't want to?"
"What, like, 'Oh, Professor Lockhart, I love you!" laughed Hannah, looking directly at a very unamused Susan.
"If you tell that story one more time –"
"I'll give you ten chocolate frogs," said Justin.
"Don't do it Hannah," warned Susan menacingly.
"I'll add five," said Ernie, grinning like a loon.
"And I'll wash your clothes for a week," said Harry, to the surprise of everyone.
"Well," he said, squirming under their scrutiny. "I'll have your clothes washed for a week, although you might have to wait until I can find another house elf. The last one is apparently undergoing training for something called counter-insurrection or something."
"If you tell them, I'll never talk to you again," threatened Susan, staring at Hannah.
Hannah was obviously torn. The temptation of embarrassing her friend and the lure of the bribes were warring with her desire not to really hurt Sue, and the worry of retaliation.
"Just finish your story first, Harry," she said, delaying the decision.
"Oh, well, yeah. Okay. That's it basically. I've got a few other things to try, including a curse that might work, but really I just want to be able to wake up suddenly and say a bunch of random words. Then I can pretend I don't know anything about it, but Hippy-lady will love me and never bother me while I am in my sleep-I mean trance state."
"How the hell can you sleep in there with all that smoke?" asked Hannah. "It makes my eyes burn."
"Hey you can sleep in History of Magic with a bloody ghost standing in front of you – that makes my heart burn."
"That's jealousy, Harry, not something physical," explained Susan.
"Whatever, it's just not fair," said Harry darkly, before brightening up a bit. "Actually, that's given me a great idea – thanks."
"You're welcome, I think," said Susan. "Now what's this curse you mentioned? I don't think using a curse is a good idea."
"Yeah I'm a bit wary about it, after all the trouble I had with that deafness one last year, but it sounds like it might be useful. It apparently makes you sprout words at random. I figure I might be able to get it onto a ring or something that I can wear while I am asleep and have it activate when I wake up. Then I can take the ring off and it will stop."
"That sounds like a strange sort of curse. I've never heard of one like that before. What's it called?"
"It's got some weird French bloke's name; Torturer, or Tarratellgo, or something," said Harry. "I've written it down somewhere along with the name of the book in the restricted section with it in. I got it from a seventh year Muggleborn."
"Torturer? That does not sound good at all," said Hannah.
"No way would I use a curse on myself created by a feller named Torturer," agreed Ernie.
After a moment of intense concentration, Justin suddenly started smiling.
"Torturer?" he asked. "Makes you yell out things at random? Harry, this curse, it would be called Tourette would it?"
"Yeah, that's it!" said Harry. "Tourette. Why are you smiling?"
Justin briefly considered explaining to Harry what the hell Tourette's Syndrome was, but then had second thoughts. After all, if Harry was too lazy to find out about it himself, he really did deserve the fallout, and besides, it would be damn funny.
"No reason," he said, trying and failing to keep the smile off his face.
#
Padfoot's sensitive nose probed the well concealed entrance to the tunnel carefully. A dank smell of sewerage and stale air wafter up from the small opening, but he didn't smell anything threatening.
The prospect of having a lair out of the elements was a huge attraction, especially since the last lot of mushrooms he had eaten might not have been what he thought they were and his stomach and head were doing some weird things, so he ignored the faint odour of old blood and pushed into the tunnel.
It wasn't like this would be the first tunnel he had ever found under Hogwarts. Centuries of trying to lock students in at night were bound to make for various ingenious escape routes, and tunnels were a fairly obvious one. It was a bit unusual to have them pop out in the forest, but simple wards could keep most animals out.
In the almost absolute blackness, even his sensitive eyes found it hard to see, but he pushed on, going deeper and deeper until he was sure he was under the Black lake. Slowly the tunnel expanded and faint light shown from the distance.
Creeping quietly on his belly, Sirius moved closer to the end, a faint, unrecognisable noise echoing back to him. As he neared, he could see the tunnel he was in emptied out into a larger chamber, and something was moving.
Slowly he peeked out to look into the chamber. It took a few moments to understand what he was seeing, and not because his eyes had to adjust to the dim light several torches around the room were giving off.
His entry ended high up on the wall of a very large cavern that had many other openings randomly spread over the place. Statues, possibly of snakes, stood in rows in the darkness, although some had fallen and now lay on the ground. A massive face was carved into a wall near Sirius, and an enormous snake's corpse, at least two dozen metres long, lay rotting on the floor of the chamber.
But that wasn't the strangest part. No, the really strange thing was the half-dressed figure of a student trying to tear pieces of skin off the huge snake with his bare hands, apparently to finish dressing itself, since its clothes were mostly made out of skin already.
For a second, the hunched figure stopped moving, slowly turning its face towards where Sirius was hiding. The resemblance to James Potter struck Sirius first, but the wide open, 'O' shaped mouth and staring eyes quickly broke that illusion and Sirius froze, his mind valiantly trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
Finally it came up with an answer that fit his distorted, poisoned mushroom affected view of the world.
"Harry?" he asked switching back to human form. "Is that you, Harry?"
Larry didn't move.
"Harry!" yelled Sirius recklessly climbing down and leaping forward to envelope the former clothes store mannequin in a hug; his mind made up. "Thank god I found you. I'm Sirius, I'm your god father. Don't believe all the stories – I may have been responsible for your parents' death but I didn't betray them to Voldemort – it was Peter. Oh, Harry, there is so much I need to tell you, and show you. We are going to have such fun together."
Larry didn't react, not having any clue on what to do to a strange man hugging him, or anybody hugging him for that matter, but as Sirius continued to babble and hug him, Larry's mouth slowly closed, bending slightly at the corners.
Chapter 4 - Movie not so Magic
"Hey Harry, what's that?"
"It's the new memory-sphere thing Lockhart and I came up with," said Harry, lifting the glass ball out of its container and frowning at it. Hedwig's ungainly crash landing into his breakfast did not break, it luckily, but some egg had seeped through the packaging and was still sticking to it, despite a less than vigorous wiping. "It's meant to be the first one of hopefully a large and profitable range of them."
"What's it do?"
"Well I just wanted to record somebody reading out our textbooks, so that I didn't have to actually do the reading. Smiley reckons he could get an actual lesson recorded and sell them. The deal was I'd get a free copy and few sickles for each one sold. This is meant to be on Divination, but I can't get it to work."
"What's the letter? Does it say how to work it?"
"Oh Smiley wrote something about finding a new marketing angle and some specialty suppliers or something, but he still managed to get a lesson recorded. I didn't bother reading it all the way through."
"Here let me have a look. Okay, hold it in your hand and push some magic through, saying the words 'Occulus revealeo'."
"Ah!" said Harry and the mist started swirling inside the previously clear ball. "I can see it now. Hear it too. That's really annoying music, sounds a bit like those old movies Vernon used to watch late at night-"
"Hey, Harry, Lockhart didn't write it's about divination, he wrote it's called Divine Action, and look at the names of these other 'courses': Ass-tronomy, Muggle Studs, Wrist-mancy – what the hell kind of course is this?"
"Um," said Harry, unblinking staring into the ball, his face going bright red.
"Oh. Oh! It's not school work, is it?"
"Well, it is, sort of, I mean she seems to be talking about that same stuff, but, er, well-."
"It's, er, a bit more interesting, isn't it?"
"Yep. Oh boy, yeah."
"You are going to share it, aren't you, mate? You know, to help us improve our grades."
"Maybe," answered Harry absently, his eyes not moving from the sphere. "Once, I've, er, studied it. Yeah, studied it. That's it… Er, I'll be in my bunk."
#
"Now, then," said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe the teachers kept their spare robes in. As he got close to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.
"Nothing to worry about," said the Professor. "There's a Boggart in there. A Boggart is a shape shifter that takes the form it thinks will frighten you the most."
Lupin paused as a few of Harry's classmates sniggered.
"Ah, yes, you've probably already heard from the Gryffindors about Neville's Boggart eh? Good to see the Hogwarts rumour mill still exceeds the speed of magic. Now then, spread out and let's practice the spell."
"What happened?" Harry whispered to Susan as they began repeating the incantation and practicing the wand movements while the Professor continued his lecture.
"Apparently Neville is terrified of Professor Snape," said Susan.
"Understandable," agreed Harry, still not seeing the funny side.
"When you say the spell, it forces the Boggart to take the form you envision, so you are no longer scared of it," she giggled. "Professor Lupin had Neville imagine it dressed up in his grandmother's clothes."
"That's not funny," said Harry going pale. "It's horrible."
"Right then," called Lupin, apparently satisfied with their chaotic efforts. "Line up and we'll all have a go."
It took a moment for the usual pushing and shoving to resolve itself into a ragged line, and then each of them took a shot at facing their ultimate fear with Lupin putting it back inside the wardrobe between turns.
"On the count of three," said Professor Lupin as it came to Harry's turn. "One — two — three — now!"
The wardrobe burst open once again, but nothing immediate came out. Harry waited nervously as the class suddenly went silent in expectation.
The moment dragged on.
Then it dragged on some more.
It started getting ridiculous.
Finally Lupin took a step towards the wardrobe, his own wand raised readiness. Still nothing came out.
Harry tried to swallow, his throat feeling so dry he was no longer sure he could say the spell.
Lupin slowly walked all the way over to the empty door, then cautiously peered in.
"Hmm," he said, leaning inside and poking at something with his wand. "Er, well, yes. Okay then."
"Right, class," he said, standing back up and closing the door behind him. "It looks like this has all been a bit too much for our Boggart, so unfortunately that's the end of the lesson today."
Moans of disappointment and confusion greeted the Professor's announcement.
"Five points to each of you who faced the Boggart. For homework I want you all to read the chapter on Boggarts and summarise it for me," he said cheerfully. "Now, off you go."
Everybody piled out of the room talking excitedly, except Harry, who waited, watching Lupin reopen the cupboard to peer back inside.
"What happened?" asked Harry, his voice horse.
"Oh, Harry," said Lupin jumping back from the wardrobe. "I didn't see you there."
"What happened?" repeated Harry.
"Nothing to worry about," said Lupin, less than convincingly. "He just got a bit worn out I suspect."
Harry's sceptical look must have made the professor feel a bit guilty about his lie.
"Harry, do you know what your greatest fear is?" Lupin asked.
"No idea," said Harry, a million things running through his mind despite his ingrained habit of not thinking about things that didn't matter.
"I was rather worried it was going to be Voldemort," admitted Lupin, "Which would have been bad, especially for the rest of your classmates, but it seems whatever you fear is so bad it caused the Boggart to curl up and die."
Harry felt a knife of dread plunge into his heart and involuntarily took a step backwards.
"It's okay," reassured Lupin upon seeing Harry's stricken face. "I'm sure it was just confused facing so many different fears-"
"No," interrupted Harry, forcing himself to calm down. "It's not that. I know what happened."
"Really?" asked the Professor his curiosity getting the better of him.
"Yeah," said Harry quietly. "The effort of keeping his heart beating was too much, so he just let it stop."
"Oh, Harry," whispered Lupin. "You aren't really that lazy, you know. You try far too hard."
"Yeah, I know," said Harry. "That's why. That's not going to happen to me."
Lupin watched Harry carefully for a moment, both of them deep in thought.
"I guess not," the professor said suddenly, his raised voice startling Harry. "In fact, I think you are going to have to try this again, next week after class. I'll find another Boggart and we'll work on it until you can cast the spell with barely any effort at all.
Harry looked surprised, but then smiled.
"That would be horrible," he said.
"Excellent," said Lupin cheerfully. "I'll let you know exactly when once I find another Boggart, one that is a little less insightful this time. Now, off you go."
Harry nodded thankfully at the Professor and left the room, automatically heading for a shortcut that would let him catch up to his friends without having to hurry.
Behind him, Lupin poked thoughtfully at the dead Boggart with his wand.
#
"Great Harry Potters, sirs, we is being sorry sirs, but we are needing you," said the elf Harry was fairly certain had been called Tolly but was now referred to as "Brigadeary Major" or something. It was wearing a rather battered looking colander on his head that Harry really didn't want to think about, but couldn't help.
Harry had dropped by the kitchen on his way to the common rooms to snag a bite to eat and see if he could convince an elf to wash Hannah's clothes for a week so she would tell Sue's secret, but was quickly surrounded by elves.
"Well that's great because I need you guys too," said Harry, making a grab for a muffin sitting on an over-stacked tray on a side bench. "It's been hell around here without you. What have you been doing?"
"We's been fighting a wicked, clever enemy," answered the Brigadier Major of the Elf Retaliation and Control Army.
"What? But I left Voldemort pickled in a jar!" said Harry. "He hasn't escaped has he?"
The elves hissed as Harry said Voldemort.
"No, great Harry potter sirs," said the Brigadier. "He Who Must Not Be Named is still in Headmaster Dumbledore sir's office, on the Shelf No Elf Must Clean. Headmaster Dumbledore sirs takes him down and gives him a good shake every now and then. No, sirs, the enemy we fight messes up clean rooms, knocks things off shelfs, and eats anything left out."
"What, like students?" asked Harry through a mouthful of delicious chocolate muffin, ignoring the fact he really wanted to know why Beardy would shake the Dark Lord's prison, and of there was some way he could have a go.
"No!" exclaimed the elf, shocked that Harry could even suggest such a thing. "Studenties be good boys and girlses, learning important things, They's meant to be messy and clumsy, spilling juices, and leaving sticky nasty messes all over. No, these be evil things, nasty things not behaving the way they should be! They should be sitting on shelves quietly waiting for studenties to come opens them up and reads them, not rushing about, making messes and breeding like drunk elves. They be all kinds of wrong!"
"Er, sitting on shelves? Open them up and read them? You wouldn't be talking about books now would you?" asked Harry, trying valiantly to understand what was going on. "Because I don't particularly like books either, but calling them evil is stretching the dislike a bit far. Not even the stupid Hogwarts: a History is actually evil – at least I don't think it is, but since I've never read it-"
"These not be normal books!" yelled the elf. "These be books of death, with nasty, big, pointy teeth!"
It then put its hand in front of its mouth facing outwards, fingers curled to simulate what Harry supposed were meant to be terrifying teeth.
"Yes, well, thank you for the overly dramatic performance," said Harry politely, "but the only books I know of that have teeth are the Monster Book of Monsters, and you can put them to sleep pretty easily just by stroking the spine-"
"Strokes the spines?"
"Yes, just rub it. They go all quite and placid for ages. Can do what you like with them after that – mind you, could have saved a few people some nasty bruises and bites if we'd all been told earlier, especially poor Nev. His lost two uniforms to those buggers, and he was wearing one at the time! Lucky he had his steel chastity belt on I reckon, or it could have been really nasty!"
An excited murmur swept through the elves packed into the kitchen.
"Harry potter sir is the greatest wizard ever!" yelled an elf loudly, scaring Harry enough that he almost dropped the remains of his muffin. "He's has saved us! He be giving us the secrets to defeating the great scourge of the lower kitchens!"
"Saved us, again!" chorused all the elves in the kitchen, their cries spreading outward and turning into cheers and other outbursts of joy.
"If there's be anything we's can be doing for yous Harry Potter sir, you just be askings," said the original elf.
"Well actually," began Harry.
For a moment Harry felt a bit guilty, but it passed quickly; a product of long practice.
#
Twitchy struggled not to scratch at the itchiness of the black-dyed mop sitting awkwardly on his head. He had fought long and hard against many elves to earn the right to it, and he wasn't going to let the great Harry Potter sirs down by scratching like a monkey.
Besides, he was terribly interested in the old ghost hovering at the front of the class, and the last thing he wanted was to be noticed and possibly sent away.
"And although the Flame-Freezing Charm was particularly effective at negating any and all damage the Muggles tried to inflict with their bon-fires-" continued the Professor, "it became fairly obvious early on that a lack of planning often resulted in having their hands tied before being able to cast the spell and that would lead to rather unfortunate results."
Yes, all in all, this was well worth the extra missing teeth and large bruise he now sported. He really didn't understand why the Great Harry Potter sir had arranged for the switch, but he was ever so grateful.
#
"This sucks," said Harry, slamming the Muggle studies text book onto the table.
"What's up?" asked Ernie, secretly grateful for an excuse to stop for a break.
"This," said Harry, waving his hand over the collections of books and scrolls piled up in front of them. "Muggle studies was supposed to be an easy pass, but this is ridiculous."
"But you're Muggle raised, shouldn't you already know all of this?" asked Ernie.
"I would, if it's wasn't totally wrong," said Harry.
"Well I think it is fascinating," said Hermione. "It's intriguing to see how wizards view the Muggle world."
"Confusing and a load of rubbish you mean," said Harry.
"It's a perfect opportunity to learn how a different culture views things," said Hermione.
"It's a waste of time and energy," contradicted Harry. "None of it is even slightly useful, and since it is all ass-backwards, or at least a hundred years out of date, I have to learn it in order to pass, and that is just not going to cut it - I might as well be doing a real subject that at least has some practical application."
"Well you could always drop it and actually try to pass your other electives," suggested Hermione smugly.
Harry gave her a disgusted look.
"Yes, but that's not how it should be," he said. "Look, as Muggle born and raised, aren't you at least slightly insulted at the view Wizards have of Muggles? I mean come on, they still think we sit in dark rooms watching black and white films without sound and never travel more than a few miles from the place we are born! We are taught more accurately about strange half-mythical animals than we are about the rest of the human race."
"I can see it's a bit old, but surely it's not that bad," said Ernie. "I mean everybody knows your cinemas have sound now, and every home probably has a wireless of course."
"See what I mean?" Harry asked Hermione pointedly.
"Nevertheless, there is not much that you can do about it," said Hermione. "This is what they expect you to know, so if you want your grade, you'll just have to learn it."
Harry slumped back in his chair, an angry scowl on his normally placid features as he watched his easy pass slipping away right before his eyes.
He jammed his hands into his pockets and stared at the pile of books while Hermione and Ernie went back to work on the assignment. There had to be a way to make this easy. Maybe he could apply for some sort of exemption based on the fact he was Muggle raised - nah, others would be doing that if it were possible.
Idly he played with the latest memory spheres from Smiley, rolling them around in his hand in a soothing routine as an idea began to percolate.
"Hermione, if you had to pick a movie or two to show a reasonably open minded but ignorant Pureblood like Ern here-"
"Oi!" protested Ernie.
"- what the Muggle world is really like, what would you choose?" he asked.
"You'll never get permission to take a class of wizards into a cinema," said Hermione, "and with good reason too. Can you imagine the chaos they would cause blundering around the city?"
"Hey, come on now," said Ernie looking a bit hurt by the conversation.
"No," agreed Harry, "but what about if I can get the cinema to come here?"
"Electricity doesn't always work properly in magically saturated areas," argued Hermione. "Modern projectors are quite sophisticated you know, and TVs will have no hope."
"Oh I realise that," said Harry, smiling as he took one of the now notorious spheres from his pocket and held it for her to see.
Hermione's eyes widened.
#
Susan Bones paused at the door of the classroom. Last year she had reluctantly come to accept seeing that horrible mannequin, Larry, sitting in History of Magic in Harry's place. This year had been better, with Harry unable to sleep meaning there was at least one other person awake to keep her company during the long hours they were forced to sit in the class.
She needed that company in order to stay awake, but her Aunty had time and again insisted every subject needed to be treated with the utmost respect and she had foolishly promised to do her best in even this pointless class.
At least that had been the case until a couple of weeks ago when Harry had somehow convinced a House Elf to take his place. How the teacher, ghost though he was, failed to see anything amiss when his arguably most famous student ever was replaced by an elf wearing a black mop on his misshapen head and with glasses drawn on his face in grease paint, she did not understand.
Ignoring students who were obviously not paying attention, or even sleeping was one thing, but a student being replaced by a creature not even of the same species was ludicrous, even if it did appear to be a lot more interested than any of the real students ever were.
When Justin had somehow managed to coerce a second elf to take his place it started getting silly.
Still, the scene in front of her was a whole new level of absurd.
There wasn't one elf in the class, or two, or even five. Every single student was missing, and in their place were a multitude of elves, more than there were students normally, all wearing the most ridiculous substitutes for hair, including one who had apparently decided a full grown hedge was a decent hairdo.
Well, maybe, if it was meant to be Hermione...
Anyway, now Susan faced a dilemma. There was no way she was going to sit in that room with all those strange elves, but she had made a promise.
"Just go the library," said a voice behind her. "That's what I plan to do, eventually."
"Harry!" said she, startled by his sudden appearance. "What?"
"I can learn far more by reading the books than I can in that room listening to old Ghosty go on and on, and quite frankly, those elves give me the willies. There is something very wrong with them," answered Harry.
"That's a bit mean," said Susan. "I thought they were your friends and were doing you a favour?"
"One of them was doing me a favour because I had helped them out, but the rest have made deals with Ern and the others all by themselves," he answered peering around her into the room. "But it's not that that makes me worried; apparently, they like it – the classes that is. I mean really like it, love even."
While she didn't want to agree, there was no arguing with that. Liking Binns' classes was definitely a bit too strange - weird even.
"You know, Hermione is not going to be happy," she said after a moment.
"What, because we are getting out of class?"
"No, because it looks like an elf is using her for a model, and it is not flattering."
Harry poked his head around her and looked further into the room.
"Oh, bugger. I see what you mean, but hey, it wasn't my idea. At least I don't think it was, but I suppose it's possible."
"You know she is not going to believe you, one way or the other," said Sue, enjoying watching Harry squirm. "She is going to hound you for weeks about this."
Harry sighed in defeat.
"So what's it going to take?" he asked. "For you to keep quiet, that is."
He knew he should have asked the elves for something a bit more subtle, but subtle really wasn't one of his strong points.
#
"Harry, Harry, can you hear me? Wake up, Harry. Come, on Buddy."
Harry weakly tried to open his leaden eye, only to be almost blinded by light when he finally managed to crack them open. Every inch of his body ached, and it felt like a drunken elephant had been set lose inside his skull to run amok.
"Wasffd?" he asked, his mouth refusing to properly form words.
"You fell off you broom, during the match," said a voice.
"Bullssjhhfft," he denied.
"It's true," insisted a different voice. "You were up really high when the Dementors came in and they must have overwhelmed you or something because the next thing we know, you were falling. Luckily Dumbledore was there or you would have been squished flat."
"It was very scary," said a third voice Harry decided sounded like Hannah.
"Not as scary as seeing Dumbledore nearly lose it," said Cedric, a slight shudder in his voice. "I thought he was going to blow his stack for a while there."
A round of murmurs agreed as Harry forced his eyes to open again.
He was in the hospital on one of the beds, still in his Quidditch gear and surrounded by what looked like the whole team, plus a couple of extras. They were all soaking wet.
Slowly memories of the horrific game against Gryffindor came back to him. Cedric was playing one of the other positions for some reason Harry never bothered to figure out, so he had been dragged off the reserve bench yet again and roped into playing seeker.
Why they had forced him to play in weather better suited to sitting inside near a warm fire he would never know, but insist they had, with strict instructions to not end the game until they were at least sixty points ahead.
He had tried to stay where he was told to patrol for the snitch, but it had just gotten too ridiculous. Even with his robes enchanted with multiple spells to keep water and cold away, he was quickly soaked and miserable, so he made possibly the worst decision ever.
"Not 'mentors," he mumbled after taking a grateful drink from a cup offered to him by a very concerned looking Han.
"What?" she asked.
"Not Dementors," he repeated slowly and painfully.
"What, did somebody knock you off?" demanded Cedric.
"No," said Harry, slowly regaining strength enough to prop himself up slightly on his elbows. "I er, passed out."
"What from?"
"Lack of air I think."
A confused silence greeted him.
"You see, I didn't want to be in the storm anymore," he said, sheepishly. "So I started flying up higher, trying to get above it. I figured it would be calmer and easier to fly up there, so I could just nick back down every now and then to check the score."
"Fly above the storm? Are you completely bonkers?"
"Apparently so," he answered sadly sinking back down. "I was only out for a second, but the broom shut off and I started falling. I reckon I could have gotten it back under control, but then I hit the Dementors."
"I heard they got over excited by all the emotions and couldn't help themselves," said somebody Harry couldn't see.
"Yeah, well all I know is they have pretty hard heads," said Harry. "And they are bony as hell. I reckon the second one I smashed into was carrying a couple of bricks in its pockets or something, because he did some serious damage."
Another silence reigned.
"When you said 'hit the Dementors', you know I didn't think you meant you actually touched them," said Malcom, one of the chasers.
"Don't say it like that," said Maxine the beater. "You make that sound dirty."
"Get your mind out of the gutter," said Heidi, the other chaser.
For a moment Harry wondered if some brain damage had occurred, since he was recalling everybody's full names for a change, but then he figured "Why worry about it?" and just went with the flow.
"Anyway, I think you must be the only person I have ever heard of ever actually getting that close to one-"
"Five, I think, I wasn't really counting after the second one-" Harry corrected.
"-And live to tell the tale."
"I wouldn't be going too close to them any time soon," warned Malcom. "They might hold a grudge."
"Or want you to touch them again," added Max.
"Gutter!" yelled Heidi.
"At any rate, flying that high was pretty stupid," said Cedric. "And you cost us the game."
"What? Why?" demanded Harry, finding himself oddly upset at the thought of losing his first game ever.
Again the spectre of brain damage raised itself in his mind, but then it too was shrugged off 'as not important enough to bother thinking much about'.
"After the Dementors flooded the pitch, Madam Hooch called the game, and since the Gryffindors were ten point ahead and nobody could find the snitch-"
"Oh, here it is," said Harry, reaching into a pocket of his uniform to withdrawn the small winged ball. "It was all cold and lonely so I was holding onto it until we got the points you wanted.
"Doesn't that mean Hooch has to give us the points and the win?" he asked with mock innocence.
For the third time, silence greeted him, but this one he felt quite smug about.
#
"On the count of three," said Professor Lupin. "One — two — three — now!"
Red sparks leaped from his wand, flinging the trunk lid open.
Professor Snape, dressed in Neville's grandmother's clothes, stepped out.
"Riddikulus! Riddikulus! Riddikulus!" screamed Harry, waving his wand frantically.