Harry Potter & The Thousand Mysteries

11/?

Another Thousand Problems…

Clump.

Clump.

Clump.

Heavy black boots thudded on the flagged stone floor, as they hastened their solitary owner to his first class of the day. The corridors were empty and silent- once again, Harry was late. He turned a corner into a new corridor. A window, flooding the hallway with light, allowed Harry a glimpse of the lake and the rugged mountains beyond. He ran the tips of his fingers along the ancient wood panelling which decorated the corridor, above which many fine paintings were hung. Harry stopped to look at one, depicting a beautiful medieval woman, complete with crinolines and head dress, sitting on a worn stone bench, alone, in the middle of a dark forest, surrounded by dark greens and emerald brushstrokes. This art could hang in the Louvre, thought Harry. (He had been reading some of Dudley’s books during the summer- they were the only things he was allowed to touch if he wasn’t cleaning.) Except for that, of course, he corrected himself mentally, as the woman in the painting began to pick petals off a flower, completely oblivious to Harry.

Harry turned once more, and continued upon on his way to his first class. Softly, he rapped his hand on the frosted glass segment of the old mahogany door, and pushed it open.

‘Mr. Potter,’ said Professor Janney, from her usual teaching position of being perched on the edge of her desk. ‘How considerate of you to join us. Please, have a seat.’ She motioned to his usual desk, presently unoccupied. Harry sat down obediently.

‘Where were you?’ hissed Ron, from beside him.

‘Where else?’ responded Harry, as he pulled out his notebooks. ‘Breakfast.’

As it was Thursday, Harry was allowed a later start than Ron and Hermione, who each had early morning classes to attend, both in Herbology. Professor Sprout had told Harry that she thought the standard three lessons a week would suffice him enough to pass his O.W.L.s, something for which he was extremely grateful. Although it meant he could wave goodbye to Ron in the morning, snuggled up warmly between his sheets, it also meant that, while everyone else in the class was wide awake and at the peak of their industriousness in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Harry was still trying to rub sleep from his eyes.

‘We’ve progressed well this term,’ said Professor Janney, as she looked at her muggle notebook. As usual, she was dressed in a muggle suit- this time a black jacket and long skirt, over a white shirt. Professor Janney’s choice of clothing was a source of great amusement to Draco Malfoy, frequently remarking upon it loudly in Potions.

‘We’ve covered the twenty Duelling Curses, which you’re all pretty proficient in, along with the four curses of Egypt, and twelve other hexes. So I think that come next week, we’ll begin simulations!’ She smiled at the class, who sat, staring at her in stupefied silence.

‘What do you mean, simulations?’ asked Lavender.

‘Well, what’s the use of you knowing these curses in textbook format, if you can’t use them when you’re called on to? Professor Dumbledore, myself, and other members of staff have formulated some controlled situations for you to battle your way out of, using these curses. It should be fun and educational- isn’t that nice?’ she smiled at them again, with her usual cat-that-got-the-cream grin.

‘You have the rest of this week to go over your notes, and prepare yourselves. I’m expecting a first-class performance from all of you- many of you have had to deal with tough situations, if I am correct?’ Harry looked up at her sharply, but she wasn’t looking at him.

‘Okay then, I want you all to go to the Library, for some practise. I’ll check with Madam Pince to make sure you go!’ She jumped off her desk, landing with a sharp clack of her muggle high-heels. ‘Hermione, can I see you for a moment,’ she called, as the class packed their bags. Professor Janney had the uncanny knack of giving the class the instructions they least expected, and providing a course just as unusual. ‘And you, Harry and Ron.’

The three waited with Professor Janney before the class had left. ‘Let’s go into my study,’ she said, her orange-brown hair bouncing as she nodded her head.

They followed her into the study, which Harry had observed under its three former occupiers. Again, Professor Janney had made the office completely different to the other three. There were no pictures of herself adorning the walls and shelves, although Harry spied one of her in graduation regalia, clutching a scroll, and another of her with an old man and an elderly woman, who Harry guessed where her parents.

Nor where there any boxes hiding strange dark beasts, or tanks encasing disgruntled Grindylows. Neither was there Dark-Wizard detectors placed upon every surface, although there were some muggle dream-catchers.

On the wall was a large portrait of a man with a large, fuzzy beard. It was muggle- it wasn’t moving.

‘Karl Marx,’ whispered Hermione, looking at the picture.

‘Yes, do you know of him?’ asked Janney, as she shifted huge piles of parchment off a chair and onto the floor. ‘I studied the Rise of Russian Communism at Cambridge after I graduated from Wizarding School.’ Harry noticed smaller pictures of Ché Guevara and John Lennon beside the larger one of Marx. He declined to comment on it, however- he thought it was slightly amusing and intriguing that John Lennon should hang beside two of the 20^th Century’s greatest revolutionaries.

‘You went to a muggle university?’ asked Ron, astonished.

‘There’s a lot of things we can learn from the muggle world,’ she answered, sitting down in a green leather chair, and began twirling in it slightly. ‘I used to work for a newspaper in Paris before going back to Washington, and before that I slept on the streets of New York. I met a lot of interesting, different people, who coped perfectly well without magic.’

‘Wow,’ said Ron. ‘You should meet my dad.’

‘I will, come the OWL parent’s evening.’ She toyed with her silver necklace. ‘Anyway, I didn’t get you in here to talk about me, interesting though that topic is.’

Harry, Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance.

‘We’ve had another report that the Death Eaters are planning to attack the school. We need you three to be well prepared, so that’s why you’re going to have more simulated situations to deal with. Harder situations.’

They sat and looked at her for a few moments.

‘Is that it?’ asked Hermione finally.

‘Yeah, I just thought you might like to know,’ replied Janney, standing up. ‘Now get to the Library.’

Harry, Ron and Hermione were working with the rest of their Gryffindor classmates when the bell went, signalling the start of Divination.

‘Bye!’ called Hermione, as she stepped of the marble staircase on the first floor, and headed for Arithmancy. Harry and Ron continued up what felt like hundreds of floors, towards the dull and uninteresting den of the most esteemed Professor Trelawney, Seer extraordinaire.

‘Enter, my dears, and be welcome!’ she cried to them, as Harry’s head emerged at the top of the silver stepladder.

‘Now,’ she wailed quietly, once they had all settled down, ‘we will complete the work on Palmistry we studied in the year prior to this. I want you to look out for a highlighted fear line, and remember! Wrinkles around the lifeline can mean great illness!’

The class set to work examining each other’s hands, a monotonous and dreary job, requiring consultation of textbooks and long periods of sitting doing nothing.

‘You have a long money line, apparently,’ said Ron, as he peered into Harry’s hand. ‘It breaks up in the middle, and then it gets really thick.’

Harry didn’t reply, and instead concentrated on the large, elaborate doodle he had been working on during the previous three Divination periods.

‘Allow me, my dear,’ said Professor Trelawney, sitting down beside Ron. I wonder what’s coming next, thought Harry.

‘Yes, you are indeed correct about the money line, my dear, very well predicted,’ she commended Ron. ‘Although, Mr. Potter, your palm is fraught with worry-creases and pain folds. And what’s this?’ she peered closer, so that Harry could feel her hot breath against his skin. ‘Your worst fear will be realised! And sooner than anyone may think!’ She looked up at him, her bulbous-looking eyes shining through her thick glasses.

Harry rolled his eyes and yawned loudly.

‘And your lifeline is, I fear, drastically short, and what remains of it is wrought with anxiety and pain.’ She examined his hand closely for a while, her silence scattered with ‘ah yes,’ and ‘of course,’ at frequent intervals.

‘My dear,’ she said. ‘Your worst fear, the thing of which only you are aware, will soon come to pass. It circles like a vulture over your head, and it has revealed itself to me through the intricate varied palmistical networks.’

‘What terrible thing is this?’ asked Harry, in a matter-of-fact tone. He wasn’t having any of Professor Trelawney’s ridiculous mumbo-jumbo unless she could substantiate it.

‘Ah, my dear,’ she whispered mystically, ‘it is not my place to say. I say to you that it is something you fear dreadfully, something that you hope will never come to pass, and yet you know, in your heart of hearts, it is but a mere question of time.’ She sat back in her chair, her eyes filled with marvellous glee at the rapturous attention she was receiving from every member of the class, all of who had ceased their own work, and turned instead to listen to Trelawney’s macabre prediction.

‘Well, there’s not really anything hanging over me at the moment, but if anything does happen, I’ll be sure to let you know,’ responded Harry after a few moments, wearing a cynical, sceptical expression on his face.

Professor Trelawney didn’t seem pleased at Harry’s lack of excitement and enthusiasm for her prediction, which was obvious by the tone of her voice in her closing remarks to the class.

‘I think you’ll find,’ she said icily, ‘that some of you might have an unexpected turn of events in the weeks ahead. Try and rid your mind of the mundane clutter that currently resides within your head cavities, and complete a detailed analysis of your future fortunes for me by next class.’ The entire class groaned.

‘Dismissed!’ she snapped, and returned to her armchair by the fire for some deep thought.

‘I don’t think Trelawney was very pleased with you today,’ said Ron, as they made their way down the stairs.

‘It’s just because I don’t worship every word she says,’ said Harry indignantly. ‘She’s just an asocial old loon with fuck-me shoes and a birds nest hairdo!’

Ron chortled, but almost choked when Lavender shoved him violently out the way.

‘Watch it!’ he said, as she stomped past. Parvati stood, quite deliberately and hardly, on Harry’s shoes as she clomped after Lavender.

‘Come on, Lavvey, we better go find some people who show teachers respect!’ said Parvati loudly as they turned the corner.

‘Five points from Gryffindor for violence in the corridor!’ shouted Ron after them, his face red with frustration.

‘What’s up with them?’ asked Harry, taken aback. Not for the first time, he felt as if people around him were acting without any reason or logic whatsoever.

‘Oh, Lavender and I broke up this morning,’ said Ron.

‘Why?’ asked Harry, intrigued. Lavender and Ron were the school’s *perfect couple*. That was why Parvati had broken it off with him.

‘Oh, she caught me with someone else,’ said Ron, in a very blasé fashion.

‘You were having an affair?’ asked Harry, shocked. HE had no idea of the drama going on around his ears. ‘With who?’

Ron’s ears began to turn red. ‘Please don’t get annoyed,’ he said, looking timidly at Harry. ‘Cho Chang.’

‘You were having an affair with Cho Chang?’

‘Yeah, I know you fancy her and everything…’

‘Not any more,’ said Harry swiftly.

‘Really? Oh, well, at least it’s out in the open, that’s something at least.’

They continued down to the entrance hall, for a quick lunch before Potions.

‘I can’t believe you were having an affair,’ said Harry, shaking his head as they descended the marble staircase.

‘It’s no big deal. She was as well.’

‘What?’ asked Harry, incredulously. The hormones must have been bouncing off the walls in Gryffindor Tower, and Harry hadn’t noticed a single thing. ‘With who?’

‘Dean,’ said Ron callously, and sat down next to Dean at Gryffindor Table.

‘All right, Ron?’ asked Dean.

‘Ready for Potions?’ replied Ron. Harry marvelled that the two could be so friendly, after such a melodrama.

A few minutes later, the bell vibrated throughout the hall, and the Gryffindors made their way down the staircase to the potions dungeon. Hermione, however, was nowhere in sight.

‘Enter,’ called Snape from inside, and the class crept inside tentatively, still minus Hermione. Snape had been known to snap on several occasions this term- obviously his nerves weren’t what they used to be.

The class set about preparing their ingredients for their Dundungeritis Potion, which would afflict the drinker with a ruptured kidney. Of course, the Ministry strictly controlled the procurement of such dangerous potions, and everyone had to be able to compose a curing potion within ten minutes before Snape would let them anywhere near the ingredients.

Ten minutes into the lesson, the door burst open, and Hermione stumbled through.

‘Sorry, professor, but Professor Vector wouldn’t let us leave unless he had graded our essays, and because mine was so long, he took fifteen minutes reading it…’ She looked up into Snape’s face, and quelled instantaneously. ‘I have a note?’ she whispered, holding up a small square if parchment as if it were a white flag on a battlefield.

‘Sit down, Granger, and get started. Twenty points from Gryffindor.’

‘But I have a note, it’s not my fault,’ she protested.

‘That,’ snapped Snape, slamming the large book he had been consulting shut, ‘is of no consequence. You cannot expect me to give you special treatment, when the rest of the class managed to get here on time. I cannot compensate for Professor Vector’s lack of organisation and concern.’

‘But it wasn’t me!’ she argued.

‘Silence!’ Snape’s voice cracked like a whip, forcing horses ever-onwards. Harry felt an involuntary shiver go down his spine. ‘It is entirely your fault- you should have written less! Now sit down and get started unless you want to lose your house a further fifty points.’

Hermione stumbled up to her seat, beside Ron.

‘Stupid Git,’ said Harry.

‘It’s all right, Hermione, he’s just an absolute bastard waiting for someone to grind his axe on,’ said Ron, consolingly.

‘Thanks,’ said Hermione, and silently began to begin her potion.

The class sat, waiting for their potions to boil. Harry, Ron and Hermione were chatting quietly- Hermione had caught up with the rest of the class in no time, and had even finished before half of them.

‘Father’s been saying it for years!’ said Malfoy loudly, for the whole room to hear. ‘Dumbledore’s a tired old fool with a fetish for muggles. I hope the Dark Lord finishes him off soon, and spares us from his stupid ramblings…’ Harry tightened his grip on his wand, and he saw Ron clench his hands into fists.

‘Mr. Malfoy,’ said Snape, in his soft, deadly voice. ‘Would you come here a moment.’

Malfoy swaggered up to the teacher’s bench at the front of the room.

‘Forty points from Slytherin,’ said Snape coolly, not looking up from his work. A ripple of shock spread throughout the class- Snape had never taken this amount of points form his own house in living memory.

‘What?’ said Malfoy, obviously dumbfounded.

‘You heard,’ said Snape, looking up and surveying Malfoy with his cruel, black, mirthless eyes. ‘If I ever hear you insult Albus Dumbledore within my realms of hearing, I shall personally ensure your expulsion from this school.’ He looked at Malfoy, who stood, looking slightly sick, wearing an expression of horror and surprise.

‘You may sit down now,’ said Snape, and his eyes followed Malfoy unblinkingly as he walked, slowly, back to his seat.

Ron turned to Harry, his eyes alight with excitement.

‘Uh!’ he stuttered, euphorically.

As the Gryffindor fifth years sat down to dinner ten minutes later, the story of Malfoy versus Snape spread like wildfire throughout the school.

‘Did you hear?’ asked Fred, as he and George sat down beside them.

‘What?’ asked Ron, his mouth bulging with pasta.

‘About Malfoy and Snape!’ replied Fred, his eyes akin to Ron’s back in Potions.

Ron leaned over the table towards Fred, so his nose was mere inches from his. ‘We,’ he said slowly, ‘were there.’

‘Oh my god what was it like was Snape shouting did Malfoy cry what happened…’ The twins burst into a babble of questions.

‘Well, it all began…’ said Harry, as about twenty people crowded round to hear the latest chapter to be added to the saga of Harry Potter and his Thousand Mysteries.