The midnight duel
Harry found that he liked Hogwarts quite a lot. He'd been so well-fed that he found he almost didn't need to keep a stash-- he did, of course, just incase, and to his surprise, every time he checked it, nothing had rotted. He figured it must've had something to do with magic. There had been times where he'd gone to check, something started to look a bit off. He reminded himself to remember to get something to replace it, but when he returned to do so, the food looked good as the day he snatched it. He had enough sense in him to not question it, as the voices instructed.
He decided easily that it would be one of the few things to actually listen to the voices on. Yet the more days that passed, the more he found that list growing. He supposed it must've just meant the voices becoming more logical, now that so many things had a real explanation-- magic. But he also had enough sense to not listen to them two-thirds of the time.
It was actually a boring day, Monday afternoon, when he, Luna, Padma, and Lisa left their last class and returned to the Ravenclaw common room. Harry imagined he'd have a long nap and skip on dinner-- or maybe just dip into his stash. He didn't want to go all the way down the stairs just to come back up. That was too much in a day, and he was tired enough from his classes. His imagination had run short on ideas, however, when he spotted a notice pinned up that got on his nerves more than even the voices.
Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday, and twenty first year students-- five from every House-- would be learning together.
He wasn't very sure how much he liked Hogwarts now, but it was definitely less than before. He fell into one of the sofas, and Padma and Lisa sat on the one beside it. Luna busied herself with a book off one of the shelves, settling in an armchair.
"I think I hate classes," Harry groaned, lying on his back. Hydrus slithered out of his pocket and curled up on his stomach, beside Sly, who was already fast asleep.
"No you don't," Padma smiled at him-- it made him frown. "you just don't want to go to more classes with people we probably don't know. And come on, flying is what you've been talking about all week. When do you think we'll get flying lessons? Do you think we'll actually get to go on brooms? And don't even get me started on how you've been practically assailing me and Luna about what it's like to fly."
"Yeah, and neither of you have helped at all. No offence. But anyway, I've faced reality. I'm doomed, and my genuine potential and feelings are likely going to be overlooked easily by anyone if I don't somehow hurt myself in the flying lesson because I'm Harley, or Harry, or whatever my name is supposed to or isn't supposed to be, Potter. The blasted Boy Who Lived. Anything I do right or wrong is going to be known by the whole school before the day ends." He explained, petting Hydrus's head. Less hissing complaints he'd have to listen to.
"Wow, big words." Lisa giggled.
"I suppose, yes. But you only make it worse if you let it ruin your mood." said Luna, shrugging.
Lisa stopped her giggling and nodded in agreement. "You've been obsessed with flying but you've never even done it. You've never been on a broomstick, yet you're probably going to be the first one out there. You're really going to let Harley ruin Harry?" She asked, hanging over the armrest of the sofa.
"No, not normally. But normally, my name on the role isn't Harley. It's Harry. Harley Potter is going to be the one out there, and Harry is going to be wishing he could learn to fly from books." Harry frowned even more. More? Well, he was still frowning.
"Oh, just don't get your hopes too down low. I bet you'll get over it when we're flying." Lisa scoffed, pouting. "You know, you're never going to feel good if you limit yourself to what other people want. My mom told me that once, and I think it makes a lot more for you than it does for me. I'm absolutely brilliant on my own."
"Sure, if that floats your boat. I feel alright anyway," muttered Harry, before he yawned-- involuntarily-- and the sofa was suddenly very comfortable. It was getting hard to keep his eyes open.
"You are so rude. So, anyway, you think he's got a disorder or something?" Lisa whispered-- or, as much as she could, because she wasn't very quiet. "If he isn't reading, he's just, you know, sleeping."
"You're not better, Lisa!" It sounded as though Padma had slapped her arm. "You're asleep half the time! But... I... I mean, maybe. Have you seen how much he eats at meals? It's like he's preparing for hibernation,"
"He's probably cold," said Luna lightly, and something was draped over him. A blanket?
"Ooh, good thinking, Luna-- now, what kind of brooms do you think they'll have us flying on?" wondered Padma. "Cleansweeps? Comets? Ooh! What if they've gotten -- Nimbuses?"
"You really like flying, huh?" Lisa sounded some sort of apprehensive. She'd been the least excited about flying.
"Yeah, yeah, shut it, won't you? This gives me a reason to 'not' break my parents' rule! And it's not just about the flying-- it's about Quidditch! You and Harry grew up 'round Muggles, so you'd have no idea-- but it's a disgrace that we can't play! Anyone with half a mind 'bout magic knows about how cool flying is! There used to be this little league thing-- I was team captain all the time, and it's the best thing ever, bossing everyone around, and they have to listen to you, because you're the captain! Ever since they stopped holding the games, my parents told me I'm not allowed to fly around the house-- or at all! It's as if they want me miserable, because I see Parvati flying all the time-- and she doesn't even like Quidditch!"
"Flying's a weird sort of thing," Luna giggled. "I wonder how the brooms feel? They get to fly and all, but they can't do it on their own."
"I wonder how you see things sometimes, Luna, I really do," said Lisa. "Oh- I mean- um, not as in- I mean, I mean it nicely, I promise. I just wonder how pretty the world looks to you if you can think of all the things you say..."
At breakfast the next morning, Harry was suddenly aware of just how many kids had grown up flying. He could hear the gloating and boasting from across the hall-- it seemed everyone that wasn't from Muggles had spent their entire lives on brooms. Some stories he'd heard were obviously exaggerated, but it was easy to tell that they weren't completely lies.
Anthony was very willing to tell anyone about how he broke his ankle trying to fly his father's broom, and how his parents grounded him for an entire summer for not studying. Harry supposed it was because he was "fully" magical, like Padma and Draco. Padma had said something similar, but she was grumbling so angrily that he couldn't be sure.
He'd even heard Draco before, proudly telling some of his friends how he'd been able to do a Wronski Feint, whatever that was, when he was seven, and his father had taken him to buy his first racing broom after. All his stories after that had entirely outrageous endings. He was, probably, the most excited for lessons.
Harry was absolutely convinced he'd break his neck if he even managed to get off the ground. Luckily, no one had bothered him-- he supposed the frown on his face didn't spark a want for conversation, but the voices were filling his head with ideas and it made him feel worse with every passing moment... the only thing that distracted him was the barrade of owls came in with the mail. He hadn't gotten any letters from anyone other than Hagrid, and was a little-- well, a lot-- shocked when Hedwig flew in with the other owls and dropped what looked like a small basket infront of his plate. Padma and Lisa were, to say the least, much more than interested. Harry opened the package confusedly, and to his surprise, the inside was full of--
"Are those dumplings? Who'd send you dumplings?" Padma asked, breaking his train of thought.
"These aren't dumplings, Padma. They're pasties." Harry told her, looking closer and pulling one apart. It smelled alright, but he wasn't entirely sure. He'd seen Petunia put these together before-- she taught him how to do it too, incase Dudley ever wanted some.
"I've heard of pastries, but what the world are pasties?" Lisa asked.
"It's like a meat pie, but smaller and with vegetables." He showed her the inside. She grimaced.
"You'd eat that?"
He took another glance at it. It looked good, and if it wasn't, he'd probably eaten worse. "If it's edible."
"You are terrible."
He frowned, and almost said something that the voices insisted weren't too rude, but there was a ruckus at the Gryffindor table, distracting him. He jumped out his seat when he saw Draco was dead center in it, holding a glass ball. Ron looked like he was inches from punching him in the face, standing infront of a pink-faced Neville. It seemed as though his ears never sat upright. He couldn't hear a word, but the argument suddenly broke apart as Professor McGonagall appeared. She could spot trouble quicker than perhaps any teacher in the school, and it showed.
"What is going on?" she asked harshly, and Harry only just caught it.
Draco shook his head, saying something as he dropped the ball back on the table, and it rolled towards Neville Longbottom, who picked it up, his face looking an almost painful pink as the glass turned a bright scarlet. Draco then went back towards Slytherin table, Crabbe and Goyle in tow, but Harry stopped him before he made it.
"Draco, what was that about?" He asked.
Draco's ear twitched. He looked as if he didn't want to say anything, but he sighed in defeat when he saw Harry's frown.
"Nothing. I was just looking at Longbottom's new remembrall. Oh?" Draco noticed the basket, and had been close enough to see the inside. "Pasties."
"See, Lisa! He knows what they are! And he can tell the difference between them and dumplings," Harry pointed out. Padma started to speak, looking offended, but Lisa quickly put her hand over former's mouth.
"Well, you know, I totally wasn't, like, raised in America. To me, those things are like, pot pies except it's not in a pan. And why are they tiny? There's so many of them that you'd be eating just as much as a normal pie, wouldn't you?"
"I don't think you understand how food works, you ninny," muttered Padma.
"Oh, and I suppose you would know more than me, miss stick-figure! You're a walking toothpick!" Lisa snapped.
Padma gasped, looking even more offended than when Lisa shushed her.
They began arguing almost immediately. Harry couldn't help his scoff, returning to his breakfast. They'd figure it out. Or get into a fight. But fights normally had winners, and if there was a winner, then they'd probably stop arguing. Draco, who looked very confused, turned to Harry, and he shrugged. "I don't really get them either."
Thursday morning, Harry didn't catch any tales of Quidditch or flying. Hermione Granger was talking quickly and loudly, swarming any first year within a thirty foot radius with facts and facts out out of Quidditch Through The Ages. Harry figured she was just nervous. She had mostly stayed to boring her own Housemates stupid, luckily-- Draco might've throw a bit of a hissy fit over being told things he already knew(which was something Harry had learned first-hand Draco did not like) if she had even looked his direction with that book in her hands.
By the time breakfast ended, Harry felt more sick. Perhaps he shouldn't have eaten-- what if something terrible happened? The absence of actually good stories had left the voices free game to come up with terrible ones in turn. Luna had been watching him, as if she knew something was off. It was a bit unsettling, he had to admit-- he thought she knew a bit too much sometimes. The voices insisted he keep her around-- it was odd, he initially thought, but he supposed the voices were thinking up something terrible that might happen to him if she stayed around, knowing things.
At two that afternoon, Harry caught sight of Padma and Lisa running down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson; He'd already been there, of course. He made sure to arrive atleast five minutes prior-- get a good feel for the grass, check just how much it would hurt to fall, just incase. Luna had gone with him.
It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled underneath them as they walked around. A fall probably wouldn't hurt, as long as he wasn't too high up. The sloping lawns from the castle went to a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.
The Slytherins, one or two Hufflepuffs, and Harry and Luna were already there, as were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground.
The rest of the students had arrived-- the group of Gryffindors, Harry noticed, lacked Ron and Granger, but he supposed it didn't really matter-- before Madam Hooch made an appearance. When she finally did, Harry couldn't tell if her appearance did or didn't match her class. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked suddenly. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. He was a little certain that a certain twig that stood out with a sharp end would prick his hand when he picked it up.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"
"UP!" The class shouted.
Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Padma's rolled around, and jumped up every couple seconds, while Lisa's had rolled over and over in circles on the ground, and Draco's was making assuring jumps. Luna's had hopped once every few seconds, but never high enough to reach her hand.
Perhaps brooms could tell when you were unsure of yourself, Harry thought. But then he realised-- No, nevermind, that doesn't make any sense, looking at the broom in his hand. He was very unsure. Unsure he'd manage anything, that is. However, he was sure that this class would not end well. For him in particular.
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry could see a flush of pink and a twitch from Draco when she told him he'd been doing it wrong -- apparently for years.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle!"
Harry prematurely braced himself to get hurt.
"Three -- two --"
Neville Longbottom, more nervous and jumpy than Harry, frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had even touched Madam Hooch's lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle, raising up tens of feet by each second. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground fade away, saw his gasp, saw him slip off the end of the broom as his grip weakened and--
WHAM!
One thud and a nasty crack later, Neville laid face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift toward the forbidden forest, and out of sight.
Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his underneath the blood running steadily from his now-crooked nose.
"Broken nose," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy-- it's all right, up you get."
She turned to the rest of the class.
"None of you are to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say "Quidditch!" Come on, dear."
Neville still had tears running down his face as he held a hand over his face, and hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him supportively.
"Hey, Potter!" Harry heard someone yell behind him. When he turned around, he saw--
"Malfoy, what are you doing?" He asked.
Harry Potter, for some reason, was not Draco Malfoy's friend in the eyes of the students. In the eyes of the school, they were close to rivals. Harry wasn't very sure why. He thought they got along very well. Most of the time, the only thing that would've even suggested they didn't get along was them trying to upstage eachother in classes, frowning and glaring at the other. But the voices insisted they pretend, a bit of an entertaining joke. Much more like a game of 'Keep-Away' with the whole school as the person in the middle than a rivalry. And Draco was far too glad to know something that almost no one else seemed to.
"Heard you're as good as your father at Quidditch... so, up for a game? Or are you too scared?" Draco asked, twirling Neville's remembrall in his palm. It shone in the sun as he held it up.
"Scared? You wish, Malfoy," Harry said just as Draco grabbed his broom. Harry went for his, but his nerves stopped him when he saw just how much his hand was shaking. What if he got hurt like Neville? What if he got hurt worse than Neville?
Guess you're scared, said the voices, ringing at the back of his mind. You're too scared to even try.
Scared? Of course he was scared. He had every right to be scared. He was allowed to be scared.
But something about the voices just... made him forget he was scared. He hated the voices. The voices were the worst thing that could ever possibly happen to him, because they were so annoying, and mean, and they never had anything nice to say. He wasn't scared. Not if they had something to say.
He forgot all about how sick he felt, as he mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground-- and higher, and higher he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him-- and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd forgotten about the voices, realising he'd found something he could do easily without a book. And it was wonderful. To think he almost wanted to miss out on this. He pulled the handle of his broom up a little to take it even higher to meet Draco's height, and heard screams and gasps of some back on the ground as the remembrall had been suddenly sent flying in the air.
It seemed the broom had already known him, turning exactly how he wanted it and going just fast enough for him to be able to catch the remembrall as it zoomed by. It had only grazed his fingers, but his hand quickly wrapped around it before he even registered that he'd even passed it. And then it was gone from him, flying back towards Draco.
"Beat his arse, Harry!" Padma cheered. Harry had only just heard it, over the wind in his ears and trying his best to make sure he caught the remembrall didn't fly too fast and didn't hit his own hand too hard. It wasn't very good for Neville if it had broken, and it wouldn't have been very nice of them. But this was fun. Very fun.
"No Crabbe and Goyle in the air to help you now, huh, Malfoy?" Harry shouted as he caught the remembrall, and then threw it. He was barely aware of how red his hand was, because he could feel it stinging, but it wasn't painful.
Draco laughed as the remembrall hit his own hand. "I don't need them up here! Catch this if you can, Potter!" He shouted, and threw the glass ball high into the air. However, it flew high over both Harry's head and his outstretched hand, streaking back toward the ground. He could almost see in slow motion how the remembrall flew up and up into the sky, and then soared past his reach and fell down so fast it looked like a blurred flash of light.
He was suddenly moving very quickly, diving to catch the remembrall. He was ducking down to get more speed, as much as he possibly could. He just barely flew past the remembrall, but he stopped himself before he did. He pressed himself even closer to his broom and reached out his hand; The remembrall was now safe in his hand, but he'd underestimated just how fast his broom was flying, for it made hit slip off his broom; He heard gasps as he rolled in the grass-- he didn't exactly like falling down the slight hill of the yard. He looked at his hand, which was swollen and red, but he couldn't feel the pain. He extended it upwards to show off the remembrall he saved, undamaged; He listened to the proud cheers of the students and couldn't help the smile.
It was hypocritical, the voices said, and he could admit, it was-- but despite him not liking being the center of attention, he simply lived for the applause. It was an inexplicable rush of adrenaline that being the center of attention just didn't come with. Attention was hardly ever anything good. Attention usually came with trouble whenever he was at the center of it. But applause-- Harry couldn't imagine a single way that applause could be made anything bad. It must've been impossible, because applause was a brilliant thing. It couldn't be ruined.
His broom drifted over lazily beside him, and he stood to his feet before being engulfed in a hug by Luna, Padma, and Lisa.
"Harry, please, for the sake of me not having a heart attack, never do a stunt like that again!" Lisa yelled.
"Agreed!" Padma nodded. "Ooh, but that was totally wicked!"
"HARLEY -- POTTER!"
McGonagall was running toward them. Harry froze. Eventually, he found the strength to step forward, but he couldn't help the fact he was trembling.
"Never -- in all my time at Hogwarts," McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously. "Might've broken your neck-- or-- or... DRACO MALFOY!" She shouted. Apparently, he had been hoping she'd forgotten he was up in the air, by the way he defeatedly glided down on his broom.
"Professor, it wasn't--"
"Be quiet, Miss Turpin--"
"Professor, they didn't--"
"No, Miss Patil--"
"But--"
"That is quite enough, children! Potter, Malfoy, follow me, now." McGonagall said sternly, walking back into the school.
Harry's mind and heart were racing. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it. He wanted to atleast apologise, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Draco, beside him, couldn't seem to form any words either. McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at either of them; They had to jog to keep up.
He hadn't even lasted two weeks. He'd be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up at the door before summer? He'd get a punishment so severe he'd die, he bet. Vernon was always threatening him, saying if he had a reason to really hurt him, he'd take it, and this was reason enough. He was so stupid-- the voices knew this would happen! Damn voices-- stupid, mean- stupid-- and the voices-- why'd he listen? He knew so much better than that. He should've known something terrible would happen. He was just as stupid as they were-- letting them get the upper hand on him.
Suddenly, McGonagall stopped outside a classroom, and Harry just barely avoided knocking into her. She opened the door and poked her head inside.
"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, a moment?" She said.
Flitwick? Harry's face had gone very red, a burning, painful red, and he was vividly aware of the weird feeling, which he now knew for certain was his ears falling. His Head of House. Of course. He supposed he was lucky it wasn't Dumbledore, but he hardly felt any better.
When the little man walked out, McGonagall led them all to a secluded classroom. Peeves was too busy writing rude words on the blackboard to notice them.
"Out, Peeves!" McGonagall yelled. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out the room, cursing. McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys and Flitwick.
"Now... Professor Flitwick, I am not doubting the abilities any potential seekers you may end up with, but I believe it would be in your best interest," McGonagall pulled Harry forward by the wrist. "that whoever they are, be the reserve seeker for Mister Potter."
Seeker? As in... Quidditch?
Flitwick looked at Harry, looking as puzzled as he felt. "You really think so? He's a first year, Professor,"
"Absolutely. This boy is a prodigy, Filius. He took what was about a seventy-foot dive and came out of it unscathed. That in his hand doesn't have a single crack either, nary a scratch. Even Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it. Merlin knows I'd be better off with this boy in my House, but his natural talent shouldn't be held off until he wishes to try out. That your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"
Harry nodded. He was in trouble... wasn't he?
"Pure, raw talent." She added, and Flitwick nodded profusely, intrigued.
"How will we explain this to the other teachers? Severus will especially have questions, I'm sure."
"Well, perhaps you should leave that to me," said McGonagall coolly. "The details, I mean. All they really need to know is that you've got a seeker, and I would advise you not tell anyone who doesn't need to know. As for Severus, we are off to see him next. Now, if you'll excuse us. Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy," McGonagall walked out the room, and Harry and Draco were quick to follow her.
She took them on what felt like a long walk to the dungeons, and it gave Harry plenty of time to think. He was in trouble, right? He got caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing, and for once, he knew he wasn't supposed to be doing it. He had a reason. It was obvious enough. So why was he being put on the Quidditch team? He'd earned punishment, he was sure, but this couldn't have counted as punishment-- could it?
He'd given up on trying to understand anything before they made it to wherever they were going next. And that happened to be the Potions classroom.
"Snape, a moment, if you will." McGonagall called into the classroom. Snape stepped outside, telling his class harshly to continue work on their potions.
McGonagall had not even waited a moment before walking off, probably so nobody in the class would hear if they spoke too loud, "I've heard many complaints about your Team Chaser and his abilities... and I've found an adequate Chaser for you. If you wouldn't mind placing Mister Malfoy as Montague's replacement."
She pulled Draco forward. Snape looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
"What, may I ask, would make him so special?" He asked. Draco's eyes squinted meanly, but it didn't look as though Snape cared.
"You need only see him play." McGonagall said. "Now do not get me incorrect, I'd wish for your team to be flattened, but neither of these boys' skills should be wasted. They may only be first years, but they are talented."
"And Potter is fine being one of the people attaining this information?" He asked, his lip curling.
"I was talking about them both. And it's not as though we were going to tell the whole school immediately. Only the teams, and the professors. I will mention again, that these two both have incredible abilities. You're a teacher, Snape, and not just any teacher, a Potions teacher and Head of House. I'd expect you of all people to know not to look a gift horse in the mouth."
Snape sighed, and finally, nodded, saying Draco could be on the Quidditch team.
And suddenly, Harry and Draco were the newest members of their House Quidditch teams. It was silent between the two, for atleast three or so minutes.
"That did actually just happen, right? I didn't actually break my skull or something when I fell?" Harry muttered. He was going crazy, he was sure. This couldn't be real.
"That happened," nodded Draco. He looked as though he didn't believe it either. "That actually happened. I refuse, actually, to believe that just happened. I'm going to go to dinner and pretend that didn't just happen."
Helpful, Harry supposed. As helpful as he could get from Draco, that is.
He'd barely gotten to the common room before Lisa and Padma caught him going to his dorm room.
"Harry, you're not being sent away, are you?"
"You're still our Housemate, right, Harry? They can't expel you for that, it's not fair!"
"They're letting you stay, aren't they? Aren't they?"
He took a minute to understand all the questions they asked-- why'd they have to talk so fast?
"I'm not going anywhere," he said. Why would he get expelled? Maybe he forgot something-- he hated climbing up all the stairs. It was so tiring. "Is something the matter?"
"Is something-- yes!" Lisa looked at him as though he'd said something wrong. Maybe he did say something wrong. She suddenly got a proud expression. "Look, if you tell us what happened, then you don't have to go to the Great Hall. And therefore, you don't have to climb back up all the stairs. We can get one of the house elves to bring us dinner."
"What house elves?" Padma asked, just as Harry asked, "What's a house elf?"
"Oh, right, you two wouldn't know!" Lisa paused, taking a breath. "So, I was late to morning potions one day, and as I went down the stairs, Peeves tricked me into a falling staircase, and I ended up in the basements because I fell through a portrait, and since I had missed breakfast, I wanted to see if I could find any food stored away somewhere in the kitchen, because, obviously, like, I missed breakfast. It's so hard to find-- it's like, this portrait, and it took my so long to figure out-- but that's besides the point, I think. Right, um- you wouldn't believe what I saw when I walked in-- there wasn't anyone cooking, or any wands doing it all-- it was house elves! I only know what they are because my mom always had a few take care of me when she or my dad were busy, and she had, like, a ton because she was a pureblood witch-- I used to think they were animatronic toys. I'm a half-blood, remember?-- my dad's a muggle-- he didn't have a clue what magic was until I got my letter--"
"Lisa! We know! The kitchen?"
"Right, sorry, so, I found out there were house elves in the kitchen! And when I asked them why they were down there, they told me all about how they feed off the magic of Hogwarts to live the way they do, just like they do in a normal magic-people house! Like, not school-related, I guess. Also, apparently, like, every House has a selection of elves to assist them, but nobody knows about them so they're just in the kitchen all the time!" When she finished, she was panting.
"What?" Padma was gaping. She looked somewhere between shocked and abashed. Harry was sure he'd never seen her ears twitch, but now it looked like they'd never stop. But he was more confused than she was. He still didn't know what a house elf was.
"Cool. I guess," he forced a smile at her. "Now, if you do not mind, I am going to find a way to get food without leaving my bed. Or never get out of bed again."
He didn't wait for an answer before going to his dorm, relieved to finally be able to climb into his bed and lie down. He was tired of stairs-- why did Hogwarts have so many stairs? Stairs were ridiculous anyway. They were like birds-- just in the way, most of the time.
Just as he got comfortable, there was suddenly a loud crack, and a small creature with large ears and wide eyes, wearing a small tattered dress, stood before his bed.
"Hello Mister-Potter sir! Miss Turpin told Mipsy to bring you dinners," The thing said, handing Harry a plate that had pork chops, a baked potato, and a few slices of bacon.
With a second crack, before he could thank her, she was gone. Harry groaned and forced himself to stand, walking back to the common room. Atleast the walk up the stairs wasn't too long. Both Lisa and Padma had very large grins, holding plates of their own.
"If this is your way of bribing me to tell you about what happened, it's worked." He said. He felt like frowning, but his face contorted into a grin whenever he tried. "You're looking at our Quidditch Team's newest seeker."
That was simple enough, wasn't it? Not too many details, not too little. He imagined he did an alright job of simplifying it, for the most part.
"No way, a first year-- on the Quidditch team! You must be-- the youngest in-- in--"
"Almost a century. I've read plenty of History books, Padma," muttered Harry, cutting her off.
Lisa stared in amazement, her own bacon hanging out her mouth. Or maybe it wasn't amazement, because she squinted and said, "They're letting you play Quidditch because you did something you weren't supposed to do? Are you sure they didn't just say that?"
Harry shrugged. "I start my training next week, but I assume that they're still going to hold tryouts. For a reserve. Whatever that is. I bet it's important, but I don't really care."
Padma was gaping at him. "You don't care? Have you any idea-- a first year on the team! It's- it's practically unheard of! We're not even allowed our own brooms, most kids don't even bother to sign-up for tryouts! And you-- after our first lesson! Your first time on a broom, but--"
She paused, suddenly, as someone came running into the common room. She was an older student, obviously, but not too much older. She looked younger than the prefects, but older than the three of them. Her eyes were dark, and they reminded him of dark chocolate, something Dudley really did not like, and blonde hair that was smooth and frizzy at the same time. She smiled at Harry.
"Hey-- I mean, hey, you're-- Harley Potter, right?" She asked, panting. He nodded. "Good job on-- getting Seeker! I'm Keeper, so we'll be-- seeing much of eachother at practice, because-- well, yeah, but this year— I'm Captain! I'll bet you— one shining galleon that I'll be the best one our team's seen!" She huffed out excitedly.
"That's nice, but who are you?"
"Blunt! Appreciate that, I guess! Oh- right-- sorry, I'm Etta-- Crocker. Etta Crocker. You can call me Antsy Etsy-- everyone does." She nodded her head at him and her grin got even larger. "I'll be off now, but just wanted to congratulate you. Never imagined a first year would make the team, y'know? Alright- so- er, I'll be meeting up with some friends of mine now -- they say hi, by the way! Well! Bye!"
She disappeared as quickly as she arrived, and the door to the common room slammed shut.
"I get why they call her antsy." said Lisa, sounding a bit rude.
"You're no better. But anyway, I'm going to bed," Harry said, standing up with his now empty plate. He'd take it to the kitchen in the morning. Probably. It couldn't have been impossible to find.
"Leave it!" Lisa snapped. She almost looked a bit shocked at how sharply she spoke, but she continued talking anyway. "Put the plate, down. We'll get it. I mean, like, you've got enough on your mind, and then there's people thinking you've been expelled. And you haven't done any of your essays yet. And I know you haven't because I've seen your papers. This could just be the topper to some avalanche on a snow and sprinkle covered iceberg. An iceberg is what sunk the titanic, so think you're the titanic here-- I'm pushing the iceberg very slightly to the side. Now you just have to not hit it."
Before Harry could respond, she'd taken his plate from his hands.
"No, it's fine, I'll–"
"Harry, go to sleep already." Padma said, and she pushed him to the stairs. "We can see the tiredness in your eyes."
"I'm not tired--"
"You are, we can see it,"
Before he could say anything else, they walked away. That was a bit rude. He could take care of his own mess. He wanted to chase after them, but he decided it wasn't worth it. So, he was a little tired. But they had insisted, after all, and he supposed a little nap was okay if he'd practically been given permission.
He had only woken up once after that-- when Anthony, Terry, and Michael had come back to the dorm, shaking him and asking loudly that he hadn't been kicked out. He went right back to sleep. He was there, after all, and he didn't think he'd be there another night if he did get put out. They'd probably figure that out before they tried waking him up again.
At breakfast the next morning, he was relieved to see nobody had even been shocked to see him. Maybe Lisa and Padma really had done something. He had made it all the way to his usual spot at Ravenclaw table and already felt much more than at ease when he sat beside Luna, and she smiled at him. And not one of the smiles that she always wore-- a different sort of smile, one she seemed to know he needed. She seemed to know a lot of things. So he was caught entirely off his guard when Ron suddenly ran into the Great Hall, and practically jumped into the seat beside him, pulling him into a very tight hug.
"Harry! You're not expelled! I could barely sleep, and nobody would tell me anything! Dean told me that you got into some big trouble-- you're not being kicked out, right? Wait- you remember me-- right? I'm Ron! We sat on the train together-- well- I- I guess it doesn't matter, but you're not in trouble, right?"
Someone snorted behind them.
"Well if it isn't Weasley. Suddenly Potter's friend now that he's gotten away with breaking a rule?" Draco laughed.
"You're much more talkative when you're on the ground, Malfoy." Harry smiled.
"I wouldn't be afraid to take you on, Potter. And just so you know, that Quidditch game was only to see if you were as good as your father.... Was. You're decent." Draco said, and Harry suspected he was lying through his teeth. Well, he hoped he was.
"You're just lucky you don't have to share a class with me all the time, huh, Draco? Because I can guarantee, I'd beat your arse at Transfiguration too." Harry laughed, and Luna giggled a little beside him. Ron was forcing down undoubtedly-loud laughter.
"You'd better watch your back, Potter." Draco said, and Harry didn't miss the way his cheeks had turned pinkand how his ears had gone down just a bit, but he said nothing, only giving Draco a small, teasing smile. "I'm serious. I'll be keeping my eye on you, Potter."
"How about a Wizard's Duel? Midnight, in the Trophy Room, if you're serious. Unless, you're as much talk as your last name," Ron suddenly snapped. Draco's entire face was pink now.
"Fine, Weasley. Midnight. I already have my second, who's Potter's?" He asked.
"Not Harry. Me." Ron pointed at himself. "And I don't need a second."
"Oh, fighting Potter's battles for him, are you? How Gryffindor--"
"I'll duel you," said Harry. Draco looked a little surprised, but quickly hid it, and grinned smugly."I doubt you even know what a Wizard's Duel is."
"Maybe not, but I can guess I'll beat your arse at it too."
"Fine. Bring your wand- and only your wand. That's how Wizard's Duels work. We'll go... just like Weasley said. Midnight, trophy room."
"I'll be his second," Ron said quickly.
"Okay, this was interesting, but now I've got to say something," Padma chimed in. When had she arrived? "If anyone's Harry's second, it's me. I'm his one of his best friends, it's pretty much my right."
"He can have two. He'll need both of you to take him to Madam Pomfrey when he's gotten beat, won't he?" Draco taunted.
"Fine. We'll see," Harry smiled involuntarily.
"Good."
"Great."
"Splendid." said Draco, rolling his eyes and left the Great Hall, Crabbe and Goyle jumping up from their table and following close behind him. Of course he had to have the last word.
"Harry, you do know what a wizard's duel is, don't you?" Padma asked, looking at Harry skeptically.
"No clue," Harry shrugged. "What is it?"
Padma groaned. "It's like a fight between two wizards but you only use your wands. Seconds are there incase you die. Of course, neither of you are gonna die, but we'll be there anyway. Just in case. And don't expect me to actually second for you, 'cause it's not my fault if you get hurt. If you even manage to get hurt. I'll only be cheering you on, and that's all."
"Well, it's always nice to keep to formalities, right?" said Lisa, putting biscuits on her plate. Had Harry really been paying so little attention that she had managed to surprise him too?
"When did you get here?" Padma asked.
"Um... that's not relevant. I don't need to answer that. What is relevant, Harry doesn't know any dueling spells."
"Said who? I know some. Technically,"
"Which one do you know?"
"You don't need to know now," said Harry, hinting at how they were still in the Great Hall. That was like dumping a pile of bugs onto a fresh stash. A very stupid idea.
"Ohh, okay, okay." Lisa giggled, finally giving in.
"Well, we'll see you at midnight, Ron. We've got potions, and we're not Slytherins." Harry said, waving. Ron nodded understandably. "Bye. Sorry, Harry!"
He left before Harry, Padma, Lisa, and Luna, but it wasn't very long until they did too.
"So, Harry, what're these spells you know," asked Padma immediately once they'd left the Great Hall.
"Oh, nothing, really. I've got this book- Curses and Countercurses. I've read it front to back. It's not much, but it'll probably work... enough." Harry says, shrugging.
"Enough to what?" Lisa asked.
"What? What's enough?"
"What?" Even Luna was confused.
"Whatever you three are doing, it'll have to wait, we can't just be standing here wasting our time." said Padma. Lisa and Harry looked at her confusedly, and she rolled her eyes. "We're going to be late for Potions."
Harry was honestly surprised they'd even made it before Snape. But he wasn't complaining-- that was a detention he wouldn't have to sit through.
At ten to midnight that evening, Harry had been lounging in the common room, waiting for Padma and Lisa. He could've suspected that Padma had forgotten about the duel, if not for Lisa constantly talking about all the ways it could go wrong the entire day. Finally, at eleven fifty-five, Padma had come up the stairs of the girls dorm, in something he never would've imagined he'd see her in. It was too Muggle. It wasn't as surprising when Lisa came up a moment later, wearing a nearly identical outfit, but it didn't stop him from blurting out, "What the bloody hell are you two wearing?"
"Lisa decided it'd be a good idea to dress me up," she said, and Lisa smiled as they walked out the door to Ravenclaw Tower.
They went down a few staircases, then across a corridor, and they were in the trophy room.
Draco had already been there-- he was tapping his foot impatiently. "Finally. Almost thought you wouldn't come at all. Where's Weasley?" He asked quietly.
"We didn't see him on our way here. Should we bet that he's really going to come?" Harry shrugged. "So, what if we tried to duel without our wands? He'd never know," he suggested, but Ron appeared in the doorway just after he said that. And with three extra students in tow.
"Why did you bring more people than yourself here?" Padma whispered sharply.
"I didn't bring them, they followed me!" Ron grumbled.
"No! I-I didn't follow him!" A girl with pink hair sniffled behind Hermione Granger's arm, which she was holding tightly. "I wa- I was trying to get Hermione back to the dorms, and th-then we got locked out the common room, and– and–"
Beside them stood a crying Neville.
"Don't mind us, we don't want to be here anymore than you want us here," Hermione said, and she crossed her arms and scoffed as she spoke.
"Well, let's get on with it then," Draco said, already drawing his wand. Harry began to do the same, before Hermione spoke up, looking at them both, shocked. "You two aren't going to actually duel, are you? Do either of you even know any real spells?" She said.
"Of course we do!" Both Harry and Draco told her, and they bowed to eachother.
Ron, who had already moved between them, though a couple feet away spell-range wise, was acting referee.
"One," He started.
"Two,"
Harry could hear Lisa jumping excitedly behind him, and Hermione sighing.
"Three!"
Before he had even finished speaking, two colourful beams of light flashed through the air. Draco's legs flailed uncontrollably, and Harry tripped, his legs stuck together. Apparently, they had the same idea-- sort of. He read that he could use another one of the spells, but maybe that'd be too mean. The results weren't really nice... but he couldn't remember which spell it was. He'd obviously have to not use it, of course, but how good was that when he couldn't remember which one it even was? He'd have to get a bit more serious, perhaps, but his mind had seemingly wiped itself clear. He was lucky that Draco had yet to set himself straight, but he definitely looked a lot more certain than Harry felt.
"Harry! Come on, quickly, up," Padma tried to help and pull him to his feet, but as he was, he was hit with a Rictumsempra. Okay, Draco absolutely was more certain than he was. Harry couldn't even get himself to think right- he was laughing at something-- something was funny, but he didn't know what it was.
"Colloshoe," He wasn't entirely sure which spell that was, but he was pretty sure it wasn't the spell that had bad effects. Maybe. On the bright side, Harry finally had a real reason to laugh-- particularly, at Draco. His legs were still wobbling and his shoes were stuck to the ground. When he fell, finally, he'd stuck a hand in his hair out of frustration, and Harry noticed it wasn't slicked back as always, but sticking up in a way that looked quite unlike anything he ever thought he'd see from Draco. Maybe he had enough self-decency to not wear his hair gelled back when he slept. Harry imagined he could've done much worse, if he could remember what spells he knew. He tried very hard to remember, but he could hardly hear his thoughts over his own laughter.
"Ha! I mean-- er-- Harry!" if Padma was trying to make it seem as though she wasn't enjoying this, she was doing a very poor job.
"Okay! That's enough!" Hermione shrieked, but the pink-haired girl had started pulling on her sleeve, and she sighed. "Yes, Samantha?"
"H-H-ermione... It-- It's Filch, he- he's walking through that corridor there, and– and his cat, Mrs... Mrs Norris is– is walking through," Samantha sobbed, and Hermione gasped.
Draco managed to get himself upright and called out flipendo, just as Mrs Norris appeared in the door to the trophy room. It whizzed past everyone, and hit Mrs Norris directly. She flew up into the air– higher, and higher, and she yowled all the while– and landed on her feet with a sharp thud. Harry was finally able to stop laughing, because he was staring at her in shock. And suddenly, his legs were not stuck together anymore.
"My sweet!" Filch cried. He ran over to a still startled Mrs Norris, and Harry barely had the sense to wave at the other seven to follow as quickly as possible; They scurried as silently and as fast as possible, toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Draco had only just gotten round the corner when Filch entered the trophy room.
"They're in here somewhere," He muttered angrily. "Probably hiding." They could hear Filch getting nearer. Harry gestured wildly to the nearest corridor as he undid his own spells on Draco. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak when he heard Filch's voice again, and broke into a run-- he tripped, knocking into Samantha, who was still clinging on Hermione's arm and dragged her down, and Ron was pulled into the fall by his sleeve. They toppled right into a suit of armor.
The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle. Harry looked around frantically-- he was at a lost for words until he heard quick footsteps toward them; They were going to be in so much trouble. It was one thing that he'd been rewarded for breaking the rules, but it was far past curfew-- he'd certainly be sent packing now. Maybe the voices were right. Maybe he shouldn't have stopped listening to them. As mean as they were, listening to them kept him out of trouble with the Dursleys. Mostly. He wasn't entirely sure it was his own voice, but somewhere, something told him to run. Running, he was good at.
It seemed everyone else didn't know what to do, or they'd thought the exact same thing, because they were right behind him. They ran down the gallery, then round the doorpost, and down multiple corridors, until Samantha tripped on her own robes and knocked everyone hard into a tapestry. They all fell, and fell, until they landed in the Charms classroom.
Miles from the trophy room, Harry hoped, or just far away enough from the trophy room that it would be a while until Filch found them.
"I think– we lost him," He panted, and Draco helped him up.
"I-- told you--! I told-- you!" Hermione was waving her finger at Ron, albeit, tiredly. "I should've been-- in bed by now, t-trying to make myself– read another page of-- of a book, or something--" She gasped.
"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower, and you three the Ravenclaw's, and you the dungeons," said Ron, pushing her finger away from his face. "As quickly as possible."
"Lisa-- she -- she probably knows the fastest ways," said Padma.
"No, I don't," said Lisa tiredly, sitting up and snarling at Padma. "Believe it or not-- I don't pay-- very much attention to-- to where secret-- passageways are wh-- when I'm trying to get to class!"
Before anyone could say anything else, Draco groaned and walked off without a word.
"Well that's one less thing we have to worry about," said Ron, and, with no one having any better ideas, they were off. Yet, going up a few stairs wasn't going to be as simple as they hoped. They hadn't gone more than a dozen quiet steps when a doorknob rattled and someone came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.
Rotten Peeves, said the voices. Oh, great, Harry had willed them to return. He supposed it was his own fault, but he really didn't miss them... wouldn't miss them at all if they never returned... they could've stayed away and never spoke another word, and he wouldn't ever complain, truly--
Harry never finished that thought because at that moment, Peeves caught sight of them and gave a giddy squeal of delight. To his surprise, Samantha was the first to say anything.
"No! No, no, don't, please, Peeves-- pretty please-- you'll get us thrown out, and-- and that's not very nice, not- not even for a poltergeist," she begged, behind more sobs. She was horrified, obviously-- it didn't take even knowing her to be able to tell that she didn't want to be here. It'd be a marvel if she hadn't been crying.
Peeves cackled. "Wandering around at night, Ickle Firsties? Tct, tct, tch. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."
"Not if you don't give us away." Ron said.
"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves with a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."
"Peeves, if you say anything, I'm telling the Bloody Baron you-- you--" Samantha started, but Peeves only blew a raspberry her way. She grumbled something under her breath and her sobs were suddenly gone. She stepped forward, her eyes glinting angrily. "I'm serious, Peeves. I'm not a Slytherin, but the Baron won't be surprised if I told him... a little white lie if it was believable enough. One kick down the stairs and into the dungeons should be easy to believe you did."
"He did that to me once!" Lisa whispered angrily, and Samantha pointed to her. "I'll tell him. You know what he'd do."
Peeves hummed boredly. "No! The Baron doesn't believe naughty firsties!"
"He may not like us, but he probably likes you even less. I will tell on you, Peeves, and he will listen. Let us go."
"That's it, get out of the way," Ron snapped, taking a swipe at Peeves's side when he didn't respond to Samantha. And finally, that was enough.
"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves screamed. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN IN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"
Harry would've tried to lunge at Peeves, but he doubted all the flying through walls he did was just some trick. And it wouldn't be half as worth it if he was caught trying to fight a poltergeist, even if it was Peeves. He followed the rest in ducking under Peeves. They ran, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door-- and it was locked.
"This is it!" Ron cried, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!" Harry rummaged his pocket for his wand. He raised it to the door, but suddenly, couldn't find his voice. He put his hand to his throat, but still, couldn't speak.
"Move over! Alohamora!" said Hermione, swiping his wand, and the door flew open with a click of the lock.
"Shut it quickly, and tight," Padma directed, forcing everyone to put their weight on the door incase Peeves snitched on them to an extra degree. They put their ears against the door, listening out.
"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."
"Say please."
"Don't mess with me, Peeves! Now where did they go?"
"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.
Filch groaned. "All right-- please."
"NOTHING! He-haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.
Harry really breathed for the first time in minutes. "I think we'll be okay-- get off me!" He said. Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of his shirt for the last minute. "What?"
Harry turned around-- and saw, quite clearly, and for a moment, he was sure he'd walked into a nightmare-- this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far. He was nearly convinced that Hogwarts wasn't even real, but he didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to believe this either, though. He desperately pulled on Hermione's sleeve, as she was closest, and shook it frantically– she had been staring out a crack of the door, checking there was no Filch or Peeves.
"What, Samantha," She started, turning around. She froze when she spotted it.
They weren't in a room, as they all had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now, they knew very well why it was forbidden.
They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs. It was standing on something. Harry had to look twice, risking the possibility of something happening when he wasn't looking at the dog directly, but if he somehow didn't die, he wanted to be sure. It was on a trapdoor. Why was there a trapdoor in the corridor?
It was stood deathly still, all six eyes staring at them, and they all knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise-- seven random children probably wasn't something you'd expect to see, especially if you were an enormous, three-headed dog-- but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what the thunderous growls it was making meant.
Harry let go of Hermione's arm and reached for the doorknob-- between Filch and death, he'd take Filch and possible expulsion, without a doubt. He'd be able to live without magic as long as he got to live at all. They all fell backward– Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but it hardly mattered-- atleast to Harry. All he wanted to do was put as much space between him and that monster. They didn't stop running until they broke in half to go to their separate towers.
Padma nearly fell down the stairs to the common room, and left Lisa to answer the riddle. They all piled onto a couch the moment they were close enough. Harry would've suspected they had both fallen asleep, but he could hear their ragged breathing letting him know they weren't.
"Hey, did you see what that dog was standing on?" He asked.
"No? I'm too tired to be sarcastic, what was it?" said Lisa, resting her head on the armrest.
"A trapdoor. Its probably guarding something. And I think I know what." said Harry with a yawn.
"Ooh, tired, are we?" Padma started giggling, as if it was funny, but it wasn't for too long because she'd been cut off by her own yawn.
"Yes, very. And I'd rather not sleep on a sofa. Goodnight." said Harry, getting up. Padma stood up to do the same, but Lisa didn't move.
"Suit yourself." scoffed Padma, rolling her eyes. "Goodnight Harry, Lisa," She said, walking to the girl's dormitory. Harry waved as he walked to the boy's.
If Harry was intrigued before, then it couldn't compare to now. Normally, he wouldn't have cared, really. More trouble he could avoid. But he really, really wanted to know. And it absolutely was not the nagging of the voices that kept him awake-- filling his mind with all kinds of silly ideas... absolutely not. He wasn't listening to them anymore. They were gone. That was what he told himself, atleast-- he supposed that if he willed them to leave again, they'd get the message... eventually.