The Last Marauders: Year Two

“You’re joking.” Ryan said, trying her best to fight the laughter. “You honestly think Malfoy’s the heir of Slytherin?”
“Who else could it be?” Elijah snapped. “Do you think it’s Potter?”
“Oh, come on. That’s just as ridiculous.” She couldn’t hold it any more, laughing. “You heard Dumbledore. No second year could have hurt Mrs. Norris.”
“Well, who do you think did it?” He asked indignantly. “Since you know everything anyways.”
“I don’t know everything, thank you.” She bristled. “I’d say it could be Flint, but he’s too thick-headed. Or it could be a teacher again.”
“Well, we all know Lockhart’s too incompetent.”
“Yeah. But Snape isn’t.” She glanced up at the staff table.
“I think Granger’s going to brew that poly-what’s it potion.” Elijah said. “To see if it is Malfoy.”
“Polyjuice? That’s complicated. Think she might need some help?”
“You can always ask.” He grabbed a piece of bread. “They’re using Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.”
“Fine. But it’ll have to wait until after the game. I’m dying to see the look on Flint’s face when they lose.” She said fiercely. “It’ll show him.”
“But you’re a Slytherin.”
“I know.”
“Okay, then.” Ryan started toward the pitch and she heard Elijah catch up to her. “Better sit with Oz and I to keep it less obvious you’re rooting against your team.”
“I’m rooting against Flint and his blatant sexism.”
“Same thing.”
It wasn’t long before Slytherin took the lead, sixty to zero, and rain started to fall. Ryan swore under her breath, taking possession of Oscar’s binoculars to watch. “That Bludger keeps going after Harry.” Madam Hooch’s whistle blew and the Gryffindor team landed, having called for a time-out. “They don’t usually focus on one person, do they?” She asked. “Because that’s what one of them is doing.”
“Weird.” Oscar took the binoculars back. “But it looks like you’re right.” He handed them back to Ryan.
She scanned the game, seeing Malfoy talking to (probably taunting) Harry. “Oh no.” She groaned. “Harry, watch out!” She yelled just as the Bludger finally hit it’s target.
Without a second thought, she took off out of the bleachers, tossing the binoculars back to their rightful owner. Harry was surrounded by the annoying first year with the camera, Lockhart, his entire Quidditch team, and Ron and Hermione. She shoved past the first year just in time to hear her uncle attempt to fix his arm. “Brackium Emendo!”
She grimaced, watching as Harry’s arm lost its’ shape, and heard a whistling sound. The bloody bludger was coming back for him. Ryan whipped out her wand. “Finite Incantatem!” The iron ball exploded into tiny pieces.
“Thanks.” Harry said weakly, smiling at her. “My arm feels weird.”
“Ah,” said Lockhart. “Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That’s the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the hospital wing — ah, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, would you escort him? — and Madam Pomfrey will be able to —er — tidy you up a bit.”
Ryan held back the vomit trying to come up at the site of his arm. It flopped. “There’s no bones in it.” She whispered, glaring at the professor.
Ron grimaced too, helping Hermione get Harry to his feet. “Coming, Ryan?” He asked.
She nodded, following them to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was not happy- rightfully so, Ryan thought. “You should have come straight to me!” she raged, holding up the sad, limp remainder of what, half an hour before, had been a working arm. “I can mend bones in a second — but growing them back —”
“You will be able to, won’t you?” Harry asked desparately.
“I’ll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful,” The nurse threw Harry a pair of pajamas. “You’ll just have to stay the night.”
Hermione and Ryan waited outside the curtain drawn around Harry’s bed while Ron helped him into his pajamas. It took a while to stuff the rubbery, boneless arm into a sleeve. “How can you stick up for Lockhart now, Hermione, eh?” Ron called through the curtain. “If Harry had wanted deboning he would have asked.”
“Anyone can make a mistake,” Hermione huffed. “And it doesn’t hurt anymore, does it, Harry?”
“No, it doesn’t. But it doesn’t do anything else, either.”
“That was a great game though. And a spectacular catch. Malfoy didn’t even see the bloody Snitch.” Ryan said gleefully, sitting down on the end of Harry’s bed as he choked down the Skele-Gro potion.
“How’d he jinx that Bludger though?” Ron asked.
“We’ll add that to the list of questions we can ask him when it’s finished. “Hermione said quickly.
“Out!” Madam Pomfrey swept over to them, motioning to the door. “This boy needs rest!”
“I’ll check on you in the morning, Harry.” Ryan offered. “Have fun!”
“Yeah, fun.” He snorted. “Thanks.”
The next morning, the first thing Ryan heard as she made her way to the Great Hall was that a Gryffindor first year had been attacked. Elijah looked pale as he sat with his classmates and Ryan joined Daphne. “I can’t believe it.” She said solemnly. “Another attack?”
“Yeah. The kid who was always annoying Potter.” Pansy said.
“Maybe the monster’s just attacking annoying people.” She heard from the Ravenclaw table as she look around. Ron’s little sister looked rough. “Hopefully next time, it gets Black.”
She ignored Mandy’s taunts as she went to sit by the first year. “Hi. Are you alright?” The girl shook her head, tears threatening to spill over. “My name’s Ryan. What’s yours?”
“Ginny.” The girl finally answered. She wiped her eyes. “Aren’t you friends with Ron?”
“Yeah, I am.” Ryan smiled. “Hey, do you want to see something cool?”
The redhead nodded and Ryan took her down to the dungeons, to the empty storage room bearing the only window not in the Slytherin dorms. “Whoa.” Ginny said, her eyes widening.
“We’re under the Black Lake.” Ryan said, sitting down on the floor. “Merpeople come up to the window sometimes.”
“Can I come back?” Ginny asked quietly, still watching the creatures swimming past.
“Of course. The door’s never locked.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m going to go check on Harry. But if you need anything, you can ask me.”
Ginny nodded, smiling gratefully, turning her head back to watch as the giant squid slowly swam by.
She ran into Harry as she climbed the stairs to the hospital wing. “Hey, how’s your arm?”
“Still feels weird. But there’s bones in it now.” He held it up. “You know where Ron and Hermione are?”
“No idea. Haven’t seen them all morning.”
“Ah.” He grimaced. “I think I know where they are.”
“Well, I’m off to the library.” Ryan flashed him a grin, her face heating up when he returned it. “See you around, Harry.”
December came fast. Amid all the whispers, amulets and protection charms were being sold throughout the school. The second to last Thursday before break, Snape was having the students prepare a Swelling Solution, and like usual, Ryan’s was practically perfect. Also like usual, Snape gave her points to Malfoy, praising his slightly off color potion. As Ryan’s was heating for twenty minutes, she noticed that Harry was more distracted than usual during class, his green eyes kept glancing at Hermione. When Snape had turned his back on his table to go bother Neville once more, Ryan saw a slight nod from her friend. Harry then quickly pulled something out of his pocket, poked it with his wand, and threw it, the object landing neatly in Goyle’s cauldron.
As if on cue, the second the object landed, Ryan yanked Daphne back. Goyle’s potion exploded, showering nearly the whole class. The effects of the potion were instantaneous: everyone who’d gotten hit with it began swelling. “Who knew he could actually do that right?” Ryan mused, impressed with her housemate’s ability.
“Silence! SILENCE!” Snape roared. “Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draught — when I find out who did this —” His dark eyes went from Harry to Ryan.
The students began to line up and Snape handed out the antidote. After everyone had been taken care of, he pulled what Ryan realized was a firework out of the blackened cauldron. Everyone fell silent. Snape again glared at his two least favorite students. “If I ever find out who threw this,” Snape whispered, “I shall make sure that person is expelled.”