Order of the Phoenix
As the O.W.L flies
By Ruskbyte
Chapter Twenty Three
~ As the O.W.L flies ~
It was the first day of exams, and Harry, along with Ginny, Ron and Hermione, was reluctantly dragging his way to breakfast. For three of them it signalled the beginning of what was supposedly a
tortuous affair that would only ever be matched by the dreaded N.E.W.T.s.
Fred and George had not been helping matters with the tales of horror they had been sharing with the fifth-year Gryffindors. In fact they seemed quite delighted by the idea that their younger brother, his girlfriend and their sister's boyfriend, were taking their O.W.L.s.
They had even attempted to tease Ginny about it, and the fact that she would be suffering much the same fate the following year. Her solution, however, had been to threaten the pair of them with another visit to the Hospital Wing. The twins immediately ceased their teasing, which Harry supposed was a very wise idea considering how Madam Pomfrey was still somewhat annoyed with them over the incident with the toilet seats.
"Today's Charms, at ten o'clock," Hermione was saying as they walked, the massive tome Harry had given her for Christmas floating by her side. "Professor Flitwick said it would be a three hour written exam, followed by some practical work after lunch..."
Harry and Ron already knew this of course, but Harry realized Hermione was just a bit nervous and trying to keep herself occupied. She had acted in much the same manner before their exams in all of the four previous years, but now she seemed slightly more anxious.
Must be the pressure, he mused as they continued walking.
"Then, of course, on Wednesday..." the fluttered girl continued, looking over her specially put together study schedule as well as the exam timetable they had been given.
"Is Defence Against the Dark Arts," Ron finished for her, reaching a hand over to pluck the pieces of parchment from her hands. "Don't worry, Mione, we all remember when we have what."
Hermione looked at her boyfriend with round eyes. "Worry? Why would I be worried? I'm not worried!" She quickly became flustered and suddenly turned to look pleadingly at Harry. "Harry, tell him I'm not worried!"
Harry looked across at his best friend and rolled his eyes. "Ron, Hermione is not worried." He then waited just long enough for Hermione to breathe a sigh of relief and turn back to Ron when he added, almost as an afterthought, "Hermione is panicking. There's a difference."
"Harry!"
"He's got a point, Hermione," agreed Ginny, grinning mischievously. "You're getting very worked up about all this. Wouldn't it be better if you tried to relax?"
"Hermione relax for an exam? That happens all the time, doesn't it Harry?" asked Ron. As he said this he pointed off to one side. "Oh, look! There goes a squadron of pigs right now!"
"Ron!" protested Hermione, smacking him lightly on the arm, "it's not funny! This is serious!"
Harry decided to get in on the act and asked, "Sirius? Where?"
Beside him he heard Ginny groan and pat him on the back. "Down boy. Stop needling your friend and try being supportive, okay?"
Harry and Ron looked at her with raised eyebrows, pretending to be appalled. "Where's the fun in that?" they chorused, earning rolled eyes on behalf of the girls.
They were just stepping into the Great Hall when they became aware of a loud commotion that was filling the room. For a moment they stood in the doorway, wondering what was going on that could cause such excitement.
It must be something good, thought Harry, looking at the students already in the hall. They wouldn't be laughing so much, or so hard if it wasn't.
Taking the lead, Harry stepped into the Great Hall and started weaving and pushing his way through the crowd of students blocking the way. He could feel Ginny, Ron and Hermione following closely behind him, and then suddenly he broke through the mass. All four of them spotted it at about the same time as they cleared the jumble of laughing students.
"The Slytherins!" gasped Ron, looking as though Christmas come early and with a pot of gold as a bonus, "they're... they're... they're..."
"Pink," Harry finished for him, sounding very much in awe of the sight.
There was simply no other way to describe it. The Slytherins were... pink. All of them. And not just any kind of pink, but a brilliant, glowing, neon, bubblegum kind of pink. Their hair was pink. Their faces and hands, and probably their entire bodies as well, were pink. Their normally black school robes were pink, as were the clothes they were wearing underneath. Their shirts were pink. Their trousers or skirts and shoes were pink.
Everything.
Vibrant pink.
For one ridiculous moment Harry wondered if perhaps Gilderoy Lockhart had returned to Hogwarts and was trying to throw a belated Valentine's Day party. Then he shook his head and continued to gape at the amazing spectacle.
Not only were the Slytherins, their robes and clothes, pink but everything else associated with their house was also pink. The Slytherin table was pink, matched by the equally pink benches and assorted cutlery. Harry was amazed to see that even the knives and forks were pink.
Heck, even their food is pink, he thought in something of a daze.
*So are their bags and books and other school things.*
*I wonder if they'll be able to read or write with pink ink on pink parchment.*
"Bloody brilliant," breathed Ron, such a look on his face that Harry could easily believe his friend had just discovered the secrets of life, the universe and everything.
"POTTER!!"
The furious roar drew everyone's attention towards the staff table, only to immediately burst into laughter at the sight that greeted them.
Snape.
Pink.
Merciful heavens I'm going to die laughing.
*This is even better than the time Loki turned an entire Roman Legion into pelicans.*
*I wish we had thought of this.*
"You did this, Harry?" asked Ginny incredulously as the Potions Master bore down upon them, his neon pink robes billowing behind him in a very unintimidating manner.
*It's difficult to be properly intimidating when you're completely and utterly pink.*
"Believe me," said Harry, eyes fixed on Snape with amazement, "if I had I'd definitely accept full credit for it."
Snape drew up in front of the four Gryffindors, scowling as fiercely as he could considering his condition. "I'll have your prefect's badge for this, Potter!" he screeched in a voice that could be heard all the way to Hogsmeade. "This is an outrage! This is..."
"Calm down, Severus," came the soothing voice of Professor Dumbledore, who had just entered the Great Hall. The headmaster slowed walked up to where the furious professor was standing, his blue eyes sparkling with barely repressed delight. "I am certain young Harry and his friends had nothing at all to do with this."
Harry nodded dumbly, still focused on Snape. He was aware of Ginny and Hermione nodded at his sides, both gaping openly at the pink vision standing before them. It was Ron that actually managed to say something. "I wish we had!"
Snape wheeled on Ron with an expression of such malice that all the students, save Harry and Ginny, flinched back a step or two. Before the livid professor could speak a burst of noise erupted from the Slytherin table and everyone turned to see a mass of fireworks exploding overhead.
Naturally the fireworks were also a glowing pink.
"Remind me to kiss the ground Fred and George walk on for the rest of the day," Ginny whispered to Harry as everyone stared, entranced, at the display.
"You think they did this?" he asked, eyes fixed on the pink sparkles and explosions.
Ginny arched one fiery eyebrow. "We're talking about the boys that stole every single toilet seat in the entire school."
Harry nodded his agreement and said, "You're right. Besides, who else would be crazy, or stupid enough to do this?"
*Just a guess here, but; Fred and George?*
Shut up, I'm enjoying this.
*Who wouldn't be?*
*Those poor sods that are done up entirely in pink?*
*Other than them.*
"We're going to lose every last point we have," moaned Hermione, looking despairingly at the chaos-strewn Slytherin table.
Harry had to admit she was probably right, the Gryffindors had lost so many points while trying to sneak into the Hospital Wing to see him that they were definitely out of the running for the House Cup this year. After a moment consideration, however, Harry shrugged.
"After seeing this, it will be worth it."
***
Wednesday sneaked up on the fifth-years quickly, not difficult considering how busy they were with theirs O.W.L.s. In Defence Against the Dark Arts, as with their Charms and Transfiguration exams, there was a large written test followed by a practical session in the afternoon.
The obstacle course Professor Lupin presented them with was somewhat similar to the one he had put them through two years earlier. Of course, it had made use of more formidable creatures and obstructions for them to pass through, one section of which included a short duel with the tired-looking werewolf.
Naturally Harry was the only student to win his duel against Lupin, although Ron and Hermione performed admirably as well.
The last part of their O.W.L. exam took place back in the classroom, where Professor Lupin planned to evaluate their mastery (or lack thereof) of the Patronus Charm. For this Lupin had decided to employ Harry as an assistant, because he felt that the best way for the students to demonstrate their Patronus would be against a Dementor.
Wonderful, thought Hermione as Lupin explained this to them. It was bad enough having to be up on the ramparts during the attack. Now he wants us to be in the same room as one of those things?
Lupin had cleared the room to make space and arranged the students at one end, while he and Harry stood at the other with a large trunk between them. After clearing his throat and garnering the students' attention, Lupin told them, "We already have explicit proof of the quality, not to mention the quantity, of Harry's Patronus, so I feel there's no need to test him on this. Still, he will be helping us by attracting the attention of the Boggart in this trunk..."
Only the professor, Hermione and Ron knew that when confronted with Harry, a Boggart would assume the form of a Dementor, so Lupin was forced to clarify his statement after most of the students had expressed their puzzlement.
"When the Boggart sees Harry here, it will change into a Dementor," explained Lupin, "It will take on all the attributes of a Dementor, including the ability to prey on your memories. On my order, you will step forward and attempt to use your Patronus to force the Dementor back."
"What about you and Harry?" asked Dean. "You'll be right next to the thing."
Lupin waved the concerns aside. "Not to worry. Patroni only attack Dementors so you have no need to fear us being hurt by anything you conjure up. And I'm certain you will all agree that Harry and I should be able to handle one Dementor between us."
Lord, I hope so, prayed Hermione, recalling what horrors Harry heard whenever in the presence of a Dementor.
"You'll be going in alphabetical order," said Lupin. "Ms Brown, I believe that makes you first."
Lavender stepped forward from the rest of the class to where Lupin indicated and stood at the ready, wand in hand. From her place at the side of the class, Hermione could see her nervously lick her lips. All of the Gryffindor fifth-years had participated in the defence of the castle in March. None of them would ever forget the stifling cold that the Dementors had produced.
Lupin looked from Lavender to Harry. "Ready?"
Harry drew his wand, but kept his arm hanging loosely at his side. He nodded his readiness, and Lupin turned back to Lavender. After a moment the girl took a deep breath and also nodded, lifting her wand up and aiming it at the rattling trunk.
With a nod of his own, Lupin reached for the latch keeping the trunk closed and flipped it open. He then took several steps back and waited. The lid of the trunk was knocked back and after a pregnant pause the Boggart rose up from inside the trunk. Unfortunately it had not taken the form that they had been expecting, that of a Dementor.
It was much worse.
"Come on Harry…" The words were spoken with dripping venom. "Wands out d'you reckon?"
Hermione had never seen Harry freeze in action before. She had seen him pause to consider his options or sometimes even hesitate. But now he stood frozen on the spot, a look of sheer terror on his face. Even when he reacted in his sleep, to the nightmares that plagued him, he had never looked so utterly afraid.
Of course everyone else was frozen where they stood as well, even Lupin who was staring at the emerging Boggart with an aghast expression on his tired face. The Boggart, however, was firmly focused on Harry and started to slowly prowl towards him as it stepped out of the trunk.
"What's wrong Harry?" it asked in Cedric's voice, smiling maliciously. "Don't you want to take out your wand? What's the matter? Afraid you're going to kill me again?"
Harry began to back away, his feet almost tripping over themselves as he retreated from the slowly advancing Cedric. His face had drained completely of blood and Hermione found herself even more worried for him now than when he had been in the Hospital Wing.
Cedric smirked cruelly when Harry's back hit the wall behind him, leaving him trapped with the Boggart slowly closing in on him. "Come on, Harry. It's not like they can kill the spare twice now, is it?"
Harry's wand clattered noisily to the floor, and with a low moan Harry's knees gave out, and he slid, helpless, down the wall.
"Hey!" cried Lupin and stepped forward, trying to distract the Boggart away from Harry.
There was a flash of light and a sound like breaking glass. Cedric literally flew backwards through the air, crashing against the opposite wall of the classroom with bone breaking force. Harry, still collapsed on the floor, had taken his wand back in hand and had it pointed firmly at the Boggart as it too fell down.
Thank the high heavens. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.
With a snarl Cedric lifted his head and glared ferociously at Harry, his teeth bared in anger and normally grey eyes glowing a deep red. Harry swallowed and tried to steady his wand arm, which was shaking violently. "Riddikulus!" he managed to say, jabbing his wand in the general direction of the Boggart.
There was a loud crack, like a whip, and suddenly Cedric's demeanour changed entirely. It gave Harry a sidelong, conspiratorial glance and then said something that sounded utterly ridiculous to everyone that hear it.
"Take a bath," he said, looking around nervously as though someone might overhear, "and - er - take the egg with you, and - er - just mull things over in the hot water. It'll help you think... trust me."
Hermione's brow puckered in puzzlement. What in the world?
Harry just sat there, staring at the Boggart with wide eyes and taking deep breaths. Even though the creature had ceased taunting him, he seemed unable to regain his composure.
"Tell you what," Cedric continued, "use the Prefects' bathroom. Fourth door to the left of that statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor..."
"Thanks, Cedric," Harry interrupted, his face looking torn. He levelled his wand at the Boggart, who was now listening politely, and said, "Goodnight."
Cedric, the Boggart, exploded into a billion pieces. Everyone in the room stared in shock at where the creature had been, that and the gaping hole that Harry had just blown through the stone wall. It reached from the floor to the ceiling and was nearly four, maybe even five, yards across.
Oh my... Hermione thought, clutching a hand to her chest. She could feel her heart beating a wild rhythm beneath her fingers.
Long seconds passed and then Lupin, who had been staring in distress at the massive hole, turned to Harry and shook his head. He seemed almost unable to speak and could only just choke out, "Harry. I... I..."
"Get out."
The two words were flat, expressionless and completely devoid of emotion. Harry was still backed against the far wall, on his knees and staring into space. Lupin took a hesitant step towards him but stopped at a wave of Harry's empty hand.
"Just get out. All of you," he said in a dull tone. Hermione could see that he was starting to tremble and shake as he drew his knees up to his chest and hid his face behind them.
"I want to be alone."
***
"Good afternoon!" boomed Hagrid as they arrived at the paddocks for their Care of Magical Creatures practical exam the following Monday. None of the Gryffindors could offer anything more than a lukewarm greeting and the Slytherins did not offer even that much.
"I got a really treat for yer exam today," Hagrid continued as they all lined up. "Truly magnificent creatures, these. A bit temperamental if yeh handle them wrong, but fine beauties."
Please, prayed Ron, closing his eyes for a second. Anything but Skrewts.
"What are they, Hagrid? And where are they?" asked Harry, propping himself against the wooden fence and looking around the seemingly empty paddock. He seemed to have pushed the incident with the Boggart during Defence Against the Dark Arts behind him, but occasionally seemed to become preoccupied.
Hagrid beamed at them all, his black eyes shining happily. "Drakes! I expect they're hiding under the dirt. Burrow down they do, y'see."
Ron felt Hermione tense up beside him and nervously clear her throat. "Um, Hagrid? You're not talking about Fire-Drakes, are you?"
"Aye, that I am!" exclaimed Hagrid happily and clapped his hands. "Of course, there might be a Cold-Drake or two in th' batch, I'm not sure. Guess we'll have to wait an' see."
At Hermione's mention of the hidden creatures' full name, Harry pushed off from the wall and looked incredulously at Hagrid. His bright green eyes were wide and full to the brim with disbelief. "Fire-Drakes? Cold-Drakes?" he managed to get out brokenly, "Hagrid, those things are practically dragons!"
A wave of alarm washed over the students, and Ron was aware of several of them actually taking long steps back. Neville gave a piteous squeak, and the blood in his face drained away until he resembled a sheet. Even Malfoy, who was normally disdainful about anything Hagrid brought before them, shifted uneasily on his feet.
"Not really," said Hagrid, not trying to dampen his enthusiasm. "Drakes are only about eight or so feet long, about five high at the shoulder. An' they don't have wings like dragons."
Harry buried his face in his hands and moaned. Hermione, swallowing audibly, stepped forward and asked, "How will we be able to tell the Fire-Drakes from the Cold-Drakes?"
A familiar drawl came from where the Slytherin students were standing. "The Fire-Drakes breath fire, Granger. I thought that much was obvious."
"How clever of you to know that, Malfoy," noted Harry dryly.
"Not really," drawled Malfoy, looking smugly at them, "when you're surrounded by imbeciles on all sides, any marginally intelligent observation seems like a stroke of genius."
"Enough o' that," chided Harry, stepping between Ron and Malfoy, preventing Ron from leaping at Malfoy as he wanted to do. Hagrid raised one hand to his mouth and used his fingers to blow a shrill whistle. "Now let's see if we can rouse them up for yeh to get a look at 'em."
At the sound of Hagrid's almost deafening whistle the students looked at the paddock to see the upturned earth begin to shift and tremble in places. Here and there dark green limbs and tails began to break free from the soil as the Fire-Drakes dug themselves out of hiding.
The beasts did indeed look very much like miniature dragons, and Ron could understand Harry's worries about handling them. Their lithe, yet sturdy limbs were densely packed with layers of muscle that rippled and stretched as the Fire-Drakes rose up onto their hind legs and began prowling about the enclosure with long, loping strides.
"Crikey, they're beautiful," Hagrid breathed with admiration.
Ron had to admit the Fire-Drakes did have a certain predatory beauty, but he would much rather have been facing a Blast-Ended Skrewt than one of these sleek killing machines. He, along with the rest of the fifth-years watched in awe as the Fire-Drakes hissed and stretched wide their narrow jaws to display rows of gleaming teeth.
Damn. With a set of choppers like that these things don't need to breathe fire to be dangerous. And look at those claws!
Naturally the only student that failed to show any respect for the beasts was Malfoy, who walked up to stand by the wooden fence. He peered over it and snorted disdainfully as several of the Fire-Drakes bumped and brushed against each other.
"Clumsy-looking things," he sneered, turning away with cultivated disinterest. This proved to be a mistake as one of the Fire-Drakes apparently heard him and quickly trotted over.
Whether the animal knew that Malfoy had insulted it was debatable, but it reacted very much as if it had understood every word. It came to halt several yards from the fence, Malfoy completely unaware of its presence. For several seconds it seemed to consider the oblivious boy standing before it. Then it took a deep breath and exhaled violently, twin tongues of flame spurting from its nostrils.
"AAAAAEEEEOOOWW!"
Ron, standing not ten feet away, could not decide whether to be amused or alarmed as Malfoy started wailing like a banshee. The pale Slytherin began running around in a circle, flaying his arms wildly about and howling continually as his hair burned and crackled merrily.
"WWWWWOOOOAAAII!"
Ron saw Hermione and Neville both take steps forward, their wands out and clearly ready to help, but Harry moved in front of them.
"Let me handle this," Harry said, waving them to stay where they were. With a casual motion of his right hand he conjured up a large steel pail, filled to the brim with water. As Harry lifted it up Ron, in a flash of premonition, knew what he was going to do.
"YYYYYAAAAEEERR!"
Harry rose up high on the balls of his feet, the pail of water above him, and then brought his arms down in a sharp motion. The water seemed to almost explode down from the bucket and fell over Malfoy with almost stunning force, immediately extinguishing his flaming hair.
An instant later--the watching students didn't even have time to see the expression on his face--Malfoy's head had vanished from view. The reason for this was that Harry had effectively slammed the pail down without stopping, jamming the container over the frantic boy's head.
There was a hollow-sounding noise, like a large and cracked bell ringing. Malfoy's water drenched body twitched about for a few seconds and then toppled over. He fell to the muddy ground like an axed tree and landed with a thump, the pail clanging as it to hit the earth.
Everyone crowded into a circle around Malfoy and Harry. For a long minute nobody could think of anything to say; all were too busy wondering if Malfoy was still alive. Ron had no doubts than none of the Gryffindors would complain if he wasn't.
Ron just stood there and felt his mouth stretch into a broad and uplifted grin of delight. Even if Malfoy wasn't seriously injured, this was the funniest thing Ron had seen since Moody, and then later Harry, had transfigured the git into a ferret.
I need to find Colin before Malfoy wakes up, he thought gleefully. If I don't get a picture of this I'll never forgive myself.
The first person to speak, oddly enough, was Blaise Zabini. She nudged Malfoy's immobile body with the toe of her shoe and then smirked towards Harry. "Y'know, Potter, if it weren't for the fact that Weasley's sister would kill me for it, I'd honestly be tempted to kiss you right now."
"It was nothing special," replied Harry nonchalantly. "Dennis Creevey did something similar to Ron when his shoes caught fire. Besides, I've been wanting to do something like that for years now."
Blaise's smirk broadened. "You're not the only one."
Surprisingly enough, more than a couple of the other Slytherins nodded their heads in agreement at the statement.
***
Snape narrowed his eyes and tried to ignore the desperate burning of his right arm. He glared at the short little man that was leading him one, silently fuming that such pathetic filth as Peter Pettigrew should lead him anywhere.
It was late in the night, and he had just had to hurry out of Hogwarts and away from the ever present anti-Apparition wards surrounding the school. Even if this was probably a summons from the Dark Lord to discuss his actions during the battle in March, Snape was not in a good mood. The only thing Snape was grateful for at the moment was that the horrid pink colour had finally faded away, leaving him with his normal sallow complexion.
"We are almost there," announced Pettigrew, trying to sound important.
Snape snorted. "So I can see."
Spread out before them in the open field, arranged in a large circle, were Voldemort's servants, the Death Eaters. For a moment Snape had almost thought of them as his fellow Death Eaters, but had quashed the thought as if formed. He would sooner gnaw off his hands than admit that any of these people were associated with him in any way.
As he and Pettigrew reached the edge of the circle of Death Eaters, Pettigrew slipped away, leaving Snape to stand beside someone he knew quite well. Even with his black robes and the faceless mask, Snape could not mistake Lucius Malfoy for anyone else.
"Lucius," he greeted coolly, "I'm pleased to see that you too survived the little side trip Potter arranged."
"I have every intention of making him regret it," rasped Malfoy, his voice not carrying the smooth resonance it had once held.
Snape looked at him with some curiosity. "Where exactly did the stupid boy send you? He was babbling something about Mexico..."
Malfoy shuddered. "Worse. Siberia."
"Siberia?" Snape arched an eyebrow almost to his hairline. Speculation about where exactly Potter had sent Voldemort had been rife. The most common opinion, or most hoped for, was either the Amazon jungle or Antarctica. The wastelands of Russia had never even been considered.
"We lost Damion to the cold," Malfoy continued, indicating a vacant space in the circle, where a Death Eater was clearly missing. He then motioned to another empty spot. "Langley was a total loss as well, but for a different reason."
"What?" asked Snape with morbid curiosity.
"Cruciatus."
At the sound of the silky voice all the Death Eaters stiffened to attention and Snape followed their lead. Voldemort had stepped into the circle from the other side and quickly strode to its centre. His eyes seemed to glow in the darkness they peered at Snape.
"Potter was somehow able to rebound the curse back onto young Langley," explained the Dark Lord, his teeth bared in a snarl. "Even after he dropped his wand and lost consciousness the curse maintained its hold on him. Lucius even snapped the wand in half, but the magic would not cease until the fool's mind was completely destroyed."
Snape swallowed, making the decision to never annoy or pick on Potter again. He had not seen the battle himself--the Weasley girl had seen to that--but he had heard reports of it. If Potter was able to reflect a Cruciatus Curse back on the caster until the man was driven insane, then he was even more dangerous than Snape had realized.
Without saying anything, the Potions Master dropped down onto his knees and bowed low before Voldemort. The act was degrading yes, but he had no choice if he wanted to convince them of his sincerity. The act of pushing The-Boy-Who-Lived off the Astronomy Tower had fair certainly cemented his credibility, but there was no need to take any chances.
"My service and my life are yours... My Lord," he declared in what he hoped was a deferential tone of voice.
"In that case, Severus…" Voldemort's crimson eyes narrowed and he smiled malevolently at Snape, his teeth bared ferally. Snape felt himself tense, unconsciously aware of what was coming next. "I think we should properly welcome you into the fold once again..."
"Crucio!!"
***
With a shout, Harry jerked awake, almost sending himself flying off his bed. He looked around in a moment of blind panic for a moment before gaining his bearings. Catching his breathe in shallow gasps, he reached for the glass of water on his nightstand.
Listening carefully to the quiet sounds of the dormitory, Harry became aware of the sweat that was literally dripping off him. After several minutes he settled down again, thankful that the multitude of Silencing Charms surrounding his bed had prevented his cries from disturbing his fellow fifth-years.
*Harry?*
You lot feel that?
*Hard to miss. Your scar's burning like crazy.*
Swallowing the last of the water, Harry set the glass aside and stared up at the ceiling.
"Well, that's it then," he muttered to himself. "The holiday is over. He's back."
*And just in time for the summer holidays too*
Yay.
TBC...