Harry Potter and the Detention
Harry collapsed disconsolately into a chair in the Gryffindor common room next to Ron and Neville. “I’ve just got detention!” he complained.
“What?” asked Ron, just as Neville said, “from who?”
“Professor Quirrell,” Harry explained, “he came out of the forest and saw me. Nagara was hunting in the trees, and I just stepped in. He took 20 points too.”
“That’s not too bad. Fred and George have lost loads more than that,” Ron sounded unconcerned.
“Did he see Nagara?” Neville asked, worried.
“No. He just said ‘the forest is out of bounds. Detention, Mr. Potter’,” Harry said, putting on a deep mocking voice for Professor Quirrell.
“Don’t you mean ‘d-d-d-detention, m-m-m-mister P-p-p-potter’?” asked Ron with an exaggerated stutter.
“You shouldn’t make fun like that Ron,” said Hermione’s voice above him. She banged down some books on the table. “Hello, Harry. I was in the library. What’s this about detention?”
“But Ron’s right, Hermione,” said Harry, realising suddenly what had struck him as odd about the professor’s words earlier. “He didn’t stutter. Not once.”
Hermione still looked lost, but the other two understood Harry’s surprise. “Who didn’t? what’s going on?”
“I went a little way into the forest to let Nagara hunt after we’d seen Hagrid off. Then Professor Quirrell came out of the forest and saw me, and he took points and gave me a detention. I had to wait around a bit for Nagara to come out and then I came up here. I thought there was something strange about his voice at the time, but I couldn’t think of what it was. But Ron’s just reminded me. Professor Quirrell didn’t stutter once in the forest.”
“Why did you go into the forest with Nagara?” Hermione demanded.
“Why did Professor Quirrell go into the forest?” wondered Neville.
“What?” Hermione’s train of thought was derailed once again. So was Harry’s. He had been preparing a response to Hermione’s question, but Neville’s brought him up short. Why had Professor Quirrell been in the forest. He’d been deeper in it than Harry.
“I s’pose he’s the Defense teacher, isn’t he?” Ron said, uncertainly, “prob’ly there was some problem in there that he had to sort out?”
“I thought Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn looked after the animals in the forest?” Neville asked.
“Hagrid’s not been doing much of that lately,” Hermione pointed out. “How did it go, anyway? Did Norbert get off alright?”
“Yeah, that went alright. Hagrid had made this ridiculous bed for him. He even had a teddy-bear.” They laughed, kindly, at their friend’s fondness for his dragon.
“Now we wait. If we get a letter from Charlie asking where Norbert is then we know he hasn’t turned up, and I’ll- I’ll-” Hermione looked flustered, and finished, with as much dignity as she could, “I’ll give him what for!” They laughed again.
“It’s a long flight,” Ron warned her, “we might hear from Charlie tomorrow and he’d’ve written it this morning.” Hermione scowled.
They bickered for a few more minutes on how long they should allow before they heard confirmation from Charlie, and then the boys settled down to some homework. Hermione, who had already finished hers, began reading one of the library books she’d picked up.
***
In spite of their bickering the night before, two letters arrived from Charlie on Sunday. One arrived in the morning post with Suku, telling them that he’d be happy to receive the Ridgeback.
It would have been easiest to send him with some friends who have just come out to visit. I can trust them to keep schtum. I’ll think about ways to get him here without alerting people. I think it may be possible to have the sanctuary ‘hear about’ a dragon on the Hogwarts’ grounds. That way no one is directly responsible.
Chins up and remember that the dragon isn’t something you need to worry about. Let me worry, and study hard.
Love to all,
Charlie
At lunch another owl winged in and deposited a letter in front of Ron. This one was marked ‘Urgent International Port-Mail’ with a Ministry of Magic stamp. Ron tore it open.
Dear Ron,
I don’t want to know how you managed to get me a dragon statue through the post so quickly. It is wonderful and I have set it up in an empty stretch of woodland where it will be quite able to terrify handlers and visitors alike.
Master Grönig, my mentor, says that my friend Norbert appears to be in good health, and I am to congratulate the healer who tended him. Thank you for asking.
Thanks for the present, but please don’t do it again, or I’ll have to tell mum.
All the best,
Charlie
And so, the Saga of the Dragon, as Ron dubbed it, was officially over. Harry wondered aloud whether they’d be able to visit the sanctuary and see Norbert over the summer. Ron immediately and emphatically negatived the idea. “I’m not going anywhere near that demon ever again,” he announced, and by the sounds from Neville and Hermione, they agreed. Harry felt a little put out that they weren’t even worried about what might happen to Norbert now.
He resolved to ask Charlie about the dragon over the summer, when his friends couldn’t find out, and when Suku had had a chance to recover from two international flights.
***
Ron might have been right about the twins losing lots of points, but the house championship was tight. Harry’s 20 points were noticed. Without them, Gryffindor’s tenuous hold on third place was lost, and they slipped behind Hufflepuff. There was a redoubled effort on the part of the upperclassmen, therefore, to regain the lost ground. Cormac McLaggan, the Gryffindor seeker, was coming in for a considerable amount of in-house bullying, as his inability to catch a snitch seemed to be considered the main reason for the house’s low standing.
Madam Hooch was as bad as her word, and had pitched Harry and Malfoy against each other in a first year quidditch match during flying class. Harry had outflown Malfoy and caught the snitch in five minutes. This delighted both the Gryffindor first years and Madam Hooch, who was able to change out the players and get everyone to practice within one period. Harry also caught the snitch when the bell rang and saw that Seamus and Su Li were still looking for it.
Harry had, in consequence, been introduced to the Gryffindor quidditch captain, Oliver Wood, who was overjoyed at finding a new seeker, and who insisted that Harry come to team practices to ‘integrate with the team before next year’. McLaggan’s resentment of Harry was therefore on a par with Malfoy’s.
Harry got on well with the rest of the team, two of whom were Ron’s twin brothers. They teased him gently about ‘no snakes on the team’, and Harry assured them that Nagara was being looked after by Neville during practices. Two of the chasers, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, were in second year too, and both harboured dreams of flying professionally. The other two players were Angelina Johnson, a third year who treated Harry as a promising toddler, and Oliver Wood himself, who was a quidditch focussed fourth year Harry found quite hard to talk to. It was, Alicia told him, the youngest average team age Hogwarts had ever fielded.
Practicing quidditch three times a week promised to be great fun for Harry, but it annoyed Hermione, who felt that it cut into his revision time at a critical period. She had re-drawn his revision timetable to accommodate it, however. Harry tried to be grateful for this act of apparent kindness, telling himself that Hermione had a point, and he probably should make sure he could pass his exams.
So, Harry had forgotten all about his detention when, on Friday, a note appeared by his plate at dinner after practice saying,
Your detention will take place at 16.00 tomorrow. Please meet Mr. Filch in the Entrance Hall.
Prof. M. McGonagall
Harry groaned, suddenly not hungry. Detention with Filch! Harry hadn’t had much to do with the caretaker over the school year, but had heard enough about his constant dislike of students to be afraid of what the man might have Harry doing.
The note did more than tell Harry when and where to meet the caretaker, however. It also ruined Harry’s Saturday. The four had been going to Glasshouse six once a week to check on their experimental aconites, which were growing well (mostly). They had needed to be ‘potted on’, which Neville had explained about with enthusiasm, and then done while they watched him. Now they were developing the main ‘flower spike’, as Professor Sprout called it. Neville came down to see them during the week, co-incidentally on the days Harry now had quidditch practice, but all four turned up on Saturdays to measure the plants’ progress and take notes.
Last week all of them had gone to Madam Pomfrey with hay fever symptoms after spending ten minutes with the plants. This week it was Hermione’s turn to measure the leaves. Unfortunately, she swept her hair out of her eyes until her face and hands both broke out in a rash which had her running for the hospital wing. The others donned their dragonhide gloves before continuing with the measuring.
Hermione joined them at lunch looking her normal self again. Madam Pomfrey had given her something pink to rub on, after having a shower, and the rash had cleared right up she told them, even if it did smell horrible.
Harry had again lost his appetite and looked moodily around the hall. He told himself that, after all the housework he’d done for the Dursleys, whatever Filch had in mind couldn’t be too bad. But it had been a long time since Harry had even thought about the Dursleys and number 4 seemed a very long way from Hogwarts and its magic. If Filch used magic to make things worse… Harry couldn’t bear the thought.
Harry spent the afternoon with Suku, staring over the lake, the History of Magic textbook open on his lap. Occasionally Hermione or Neville tried to get his attention, but Harry was so lost that they let him think. He, Suku, and Nagara all basked in the springtime sun, enjoying a simple moment. Harry had his small animal family, and his human friends, all around him, the day was warm, and whatever Filch had in store for him would be over by this evening. All was well.
***
At five minutes to four Neville stood up, announcing that he was going back to the tower to write an update to Andi, and offering to take Harry’s books back up for him, so that he didn’t have to go up and come back in order to be on time for Filch. Harry accepted but walked back as far as the entrance hall with his friend. Neville hadn’t had any real news from Andi, except that his uncle had been suspended from work until the investigation was complete. Neville didn’t know what his uncle did, exactly, “he works for the department of mysteries, no one’s allowed to know what they do,” but he imagined that his uncle would be upset at being kept at home.
Neville had received several letters from his grandmother expressing her disapproval. The first had caused him to burst into tears at the Gryffindor table, much to the amusement of the Slytherins, and the second had been intercepted by Hermione before Neville had read more than the first few lines. Both had been given to Professor McGonagall, who looked grim when she received them, and grimmer when she finished them. All four first years reasoned that Neville’s gran wouldn’t be taking care of him once summer came. Neville, however, looked scared at the prospect whenever they talked about it, so they rarely broached the subject.
Neville went back to the tower weighed down by two book bags and Harry loitered in the entrance hall, waiting for Filch. Filch seemed annoyed that Harry was early, and that he couldn’t dock marks for lateness. He took off immediately into the grounds, Harry following behind him, and lectured as he went. “You fancied a trip into the forest, did you? None of you students can ever do what you’re told. In the old days if you’d broken the rules you’d have been flogged. Yes. Or locked up in one of the dungeons for a few days to think about what you’d done. But no. The old punishments are all dying out. But you wanted a trip into the forest? A trip into the forest is what you’re getting, and I’ll be very much surprised if you ever want another.”
Harry gulped and Nagara, sensing his uneasiness, shifted position around his neck, ready to strike the caretaker. Harry put a hand up to stroke her head and Filch, mistaking the action, continued his soliloquy. “Oh, there’s plenty in there that’ll take your head off, no mistake. Pity most of them don’t come out in daylight. But there’s enough in therefor you to worry about without them you mark my words.”
“Filch?” came Hagrid’s booming voice over the grounds, “that you? Hurry up.” Filch made a noise as if to spit but Harry’s heart lightened somewhat. If he was going into the forest with Hagrid it wouldn’t be quite as bad.
Fang came bounding towards Harry, and he nearly missed Filch’s parting shot, “I’ll be back for what’s left of him at dawn, shall I?” behind the boarhound’s excited barks.
“Hi, Hagrid,” Harry said, somewhat breathlessly after giving Fang an enthusiastic petting.
“Hello Harry,” said Hagrid, his normally smiling face looking serious.
“Did you hear about Norbert? He’s setting in fine, Charlie says.” Harry wanted also to ask about Fluffy, but thought Hagrid would prefer him to ask about the dragon first.
“Eh? Oh, yeah, Ron sent me down Charlie’s letter. ‘Arry, this is serious now.”
Harry looked up at Hagrid’s face, and stopped fussing over Fang. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, look. I din’t want this to be yeh, understand? I thought fer sure it’d be them twins. The Weasley twins, y’know? I thought mebbe it’d scare ‘em outta wantin’ ter go into the Forest again. Merlin knows they need a good dose of fear. But I don’t want ter see you gettin’ ‘urt. So, yeh’ll go with Fang. ‘e’s a coward, but the things in there know ‘im as they know me. Come over ‘ere.”
Harry followed Hagrid to the very edge of the forest, where Hagrid pointed to something on the ground. The seriousness in Hagrid’s voice didn’t match with the beauty of the day, anymore than Filch’s threats of whips and dungeons had, but Harry could see that, unlike the caretaker, Hagrid wasn’t speaking just for shock value. Something had him really worried.
“See that silver stuff on the ground?” Harry nodded: it was hard to miss the splashes against the dark earth. “That’s unicorn blood,” Hagrid continued, “Professor Kettleburn an’ me’ve been seeing it around these last few months. It takes powerful magic ter hurt a unicorn, but there’s somethin’ in ‘ere been doing it. We’re not goin’ after it, whatever it is. We’re just goin’ to try ter find the unicorns. I wanna know if there’s jus’ one hurt, or more. I found one dead a week ago, an’ I reckon there’s gotta be at least one more hurt. They prefer girls, but they won’ run from you nor me, an’ they know Fang’s not gonna trouble ‘em. Alright?”
Harry nodded again. He didn’t understand Hagrid’s words about the unicorns preferring girls, but the concern in his friend’s voice would have had him volunteering to help, detention or no. “Whatever ‘appens, you stay on the path, right? ‘f you get into trouble, you send up red sparks, you find the unicorn, you send up green. I’ll come an’ find yer soon as I can, but it’ll be better if I know what I’ll be comin’ in ter. Come on, then.” Hagrid led Harry and Fang onto a path leading from behind his hut.
Under the trees it was immediately darker and, as Harry had noticed before, silent. Every now and then along the path Harry noticed more splashes of the silver blood. If only one unicorn had been hurt, it had been running around a lot. In places where the blood had landed on leaves, and had not yet dried, it seemed to shine in the darkness. Harry thought of a question and jogged to catch up with Hagrid. “Is unicorn blood used in potions? Would Professor Snape be able to use this if we collected it?”
Hagrid stopped and looked at Harry. Harry could see a look of disgust passing across his face, before it settled into a sort of sorrowful understanding. “Sometimes a unicorn will decide to give its blood, ‘Arry. Then it’s safe ter use in potions. But on’y then. This,” he gestured around him to indicate the splashed trail they had been following, “this weren’t given freely. Don’ touch this stuff, ‘Arry, this’ll curse you, fer the rest of yer life.” With that dire warning Hagrid moved off again, and, after a second, Harry followed.
Hagrid didn’t stop again until they reached a fork in the path. “You go down there with Fang,” Hagrid said, “stay on the path. Whatever ‘appens, stay on the path. I’ll go this way, an’ I’ll wait for yeh where the paths meet back up, unless you send a message that yeh’ve found summat.” Harry took his wand out of his pocket and tried hard to feel brave.