Return of the Hogwarts Nightmare

Return of the Hogwarts Nightmare

by CLS

“What is wrong with her?”

I was swimming in darkness, trying to claw my way up a sheer cliff and get a fingerhold on the edge of consciousness.  Even in my hazy state, there was no mistaking the voice of Professor Snape.

“She looks so much like her mother,” said a matronly female voice.

“Yes, that is plain,” replied the Potions Master, his voice less harsh than I would have imagined from all that I had heard of him.

I way lying on a bed, tucked under crisp white sheets.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another bed, empty, but with identical white sheets, neatly turned down.  It seemed likely that I had landed in the Hospital Wing at Howarts--and that my nightmare continued.

“Oh, I can’t count the number of times I had her mother in here.  Always fainting, she was.”

“Yes, yes.  That is all old history, Nurse Pomfrey,” he said, growing irritated.  “What can you tell me about this child?”

But the nurse wanted to reminisce rather than give a diagnosis.  As my sight returned, I thought I could see Professor Snape twitching restlessly beside her.

“Whatever became of Marisa, the child’s mother, do you know?”

“She moved to the States, had a child obviously, and died when the child was three years old.  At least that is what the Headmaster told me.”  Professors Snape’s voice was tight, his words clipped.

So, my mother had gone to Hogwarts!  Things were looking bleaker and bleaker for me in this unrelentingly horrible nightmare.  I had a nagging feeling that started in my churning stomach and extended all the way to the top of my pounding head:  I hadn’t heard the worst yet. 

“I don’t believe we ever figured out what affected Marisa so, though many suspected some sort of Dark curse.  She’d have a sudden fainting spell in class or in the corridors. Her friends would bring her in and stand watch over her until she came around.  Of course, you remember who her best friend was?”

“Of course!” Professor Snape practically snarled in response.  “As I said, that is old history and I have no wish to discuss it!”

“Lily Evans,” clucked the nurse, ignoring Professor Snape’s obvious irritation. 

I could see clearly now and the look that he gave her could have melted the bottom of the thickest of cauldrons.  “Those two were inseparable, the redhead and the blonde.  Everyone always said Marisa was half-veela, but I--”

“That is enough, nurse!  Tend to your patient.”

I chose that moment to moan softly and disturb the bedclothes.  At this point, I had no wish to hear more about my previously unsuspected family history.  What I’d heard so far was bad enough and it might get worse.  I could turn out to be Draco Malfoy’s long-lost sister or Voldemort’s granddaughter.  No, I didn’t want to hear more.

The nurse rushed to my side.  She took my hand, making clucking noises about how cold it was and about how pale I looked, and checked my pulse.  I struggled to sit up, still feeling woozy, so that I could see the expression on Professor Snape’s face more clearly.  As I feared, he brow was furrowed, not with anger but with concern.  Did he know my mother? I wondered.  Doubtless I would learn that soon enough.

Neither he nor Madam Pomfrey had the chance to reveal any more details of my Dark and tangled past because Harry, Ron and Hermione burst into the room very shortly after the nurse had started her ministrations.

“Madam Pomfrey, is she all right?” Hermione cried as she entered, heading up the trio.

“We came as soon as the feast was over,” said Ron breathlessly, as if they’d sprinted up from the Great Hall. “Is she okay?  Sometimes my sister faints, but I think she just does it to get attention.  Once she cracked her head open by fainting too near the fireplace at home, though, so I guess it can be dangerous.”

All three clustered at the foot of the bed.  While Ron and Hermione peppered the nurse with questions, Harry regarded me silently.  Something was going on behind those brilliant green eyes, something that I was quite sure involved me.

Madam Pomfrey pronounced me fit, as far as she could tell. My temperature and pulse were normal and she could detect no residue of any Dark magic.  She gave a large piece of chocolate and discharged me, with instructions to avoid any excitement for the rest of the evening. 

I left the Infirmary in the company of my fellow Gryffindors.  Professor Snape, who stood silently in a corner during this time, didn’t take his eyes from me as I made my way slowly out the door.  I leaned on Hermione’s arm as I was still feeling unsteady on my feet.  Harry had gallantly offered me his arm, but I thought it best to refuse. 

Ron joined by Harry, who seemed to have gotten his tongue back, provided running commentary as we made our way along a series of corridors and stairs.  I heard all about various classrooms, about which suits of armour were friendly and which had a tendency to snap if you got too close, and about the personalities of the various portraits that waved or called out as we passed.

Conversation halted as we turned a corner and confronted a group of boys who appeared to be exiting a deserted classroom.  The three boys turned at the sound of Ron’s and Harry’s voices and our little group halted at the sight of them.  Two of the boys were hulking brutes, thugs one might say, but the third was tall, slender and blond.

I had a bad feeling about this.

“Well, well,” drawled the blond.  “The quality of Gryffindors has certainly gone down, hasn’t it?  Taking in American trash that can’t even make it through the Sorting Ceremony… whatever will we see next from your pathetic little house?”

“Shut it, Malfoy!” cried Ron.  Both he and Harry drew their wands.

The two hulks--undoubtedly Crabbe and Goyle--also drew theirs.  Suddenly the air crackled and green and red sparks flew.  This was to be my first exposure to magic and I was in the middle of duel!  Hermione crumpled at my side and I struggled to free myself from her arm as she fell.  Once free, I dragged her out of the line of fire. 

After I determined that Hermione was breathing normally, I stood to survey the battle.  Malfoy suddenly appeared at my side, leering and pointing his wand at me. 

“What have we here?” he said softly, quite oblivious to the havoc that his two chums were wreaking in the corridor. 

Instead of cursing me, however, he reached out and grabbed my arm, as if to drag me away.  Thinking fast, I did the only thing that made sense:  I kneed him in the groin.

He doubled over, dropping his wand on the stone floor, but quickly recovered enough to take a step toward me, effectively blocking my escape.  I’d thought to see a look of anger on his finely chiselled features, but instead he smiled at me.  What happened next surprised me:  he pinned me to the wall and kissed me.

“What was that for?” I called out in surprise.  “I just kneed you in the nuts!”

“Connie,” he whispered, looking absolutely delighted with himself, “may I call you Connie?  Your action demonstrated clearly that you really belong in Slytherin.”

I was utterly speechless at this insane conclusion.  I stood with my mouth half-open, regarding his sharp grey eyes and dangerous grin.  He seized upon my state of confusion and kissed me again, harder this time.  Decorum forbids me to reveal the things that he did with his tongue, but suffice to say that I felt nothing but revulsion.

“Ugh!” I cried and pushed him away.  “Maybe that’s how you kiss Harry, but really, Malfoy, it’s just too much!”

Now he was angry and maybe a little embarrassed.  “How did you know about me and--Who told you?”

“Lucky guess,” I chuckled and made my escape by slipping between him and the wall.

In the centre of the corridor, Crabbe and Goyle were down.  Both were covered in Day-Glo purple slime, making them look like beached baby whales as seen through the haze of a bad acid trip.  Ron and Harry had revived Hermione and helped her to her feet.  Before any of us could speak, Professor Snape came barrelling around the corner, his black robes flapping in imitation of a crow about to descend on carrion lying in the road.

“Duelling in the corridors on the first day back at school!” he roared as his black eyes flashed dangerously.  “Detention for you all!” 

Except for the moans from the slimy purple lumps on the floor, the corridor was silent.  Professor Snape eyed us in turn, looking first at Malfoy, then at Harry, Ron and Hermione.  He reserved a final penetrating look for me, the sort of look that gave me shivers and, in spite of myself, made me feel faint.

When was I going to wake up?  Was there no sufficiently traumatic (or sordid) event that could force my brain into its normal waking state?  At that point, I hadn’t even contemplated the even more horrible notion that I already was awake.

“Come with me, you lot,” Snape said as a nasty smile spread across his face.  “There’s no time like the present.”

“But, Professor,” stammered Malfoy, pointing to his two fallen chums.

“Finite Incantatum,” drawled Snape lazily.  With a flick of his wrist, the slime vanished. 

Crabbe and Goyle groaned and lumbered to their feet.  They looked confused and made a series of incoherent sounds directed at Malfoy.  Maybe there were some lingering effects of the magical duel, or maybe they always acted that way.  I wasn’t sure how to tell the difference.

Our motley crew followed Professor Snape to the Entrance Hall and out the front doors.  Malfoy whispered furiously to Crabbe and Goyle, who shuffled after him unsteadily.  The Gryffindors largely kept silent, except for Hermione who carried out a fruitless debate with Professor Snape as to how many points he was going to take away for the melee in the corridor. (“Two hundred points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, unless you ask me again, in which case it will be three hundred.”)

I had my first good look at the exterior of Hogwarts castle as we struggled to cross the lawns, trying to keep up the long strides of the Potions Master.  I honestly didn’t remember arriving at the castle, a fact that bolstered my desperate hope that I was dreaming.  A bright moon painted the castle a stark white. Lights winked at me from the towers and the glow from the tall narrow windows of the Great Hall fell warmly on the grounds. 

I was so busy looking back at the receding castle that I had completely lost track of where we were going until I heard Ron groan, “Not the Forbidden Forest!”

Our little party stopped short at the edge of the forest.  I had, until that point, never met a forest I didn’t like, whether by day or night, but something about the thick ranks of trees--with their scarred bark and gnarled branches reaching toward me--gave me the creeps.  Although the moon was shining fiercely, none of it penetrated the black depths of the forest.

“Come, come, Weasley.  There’s nothing to fear,” said Professor Snape dangerously.  “Perhaps you are afraid because the moon is full?  I assure you, there are no more werewolves in the Forbidden Forest.”

The smirk on Professor Snape’s face was as plain as in daylight owing to the moon.  He conjured small leather bags with drawstrings for all of us.  As he handed them out, he said, “Some of you may remember that this is the perfect time to gather the moonflower fungus, which causes instant death to anyone who touches it, except under the light of a full moon.  Can any of you tell me what potion depends on this valuable fungus?”

“Deathless Sleep, sir,” said Malfoy promptly.  Hermione glared at him.

“Ten points to Slytherin,” replied the professor.  “You shall hunt in pairs:  Crabbe and Granger, Goyle and Weasley, Malfoy and Potter.  Go on, off with you.  Don’t go too deeply into the forest, don’t get eaten, and send out red sparks if you find yourselves in any serious danger.”

As our party broke up, there was little talk, but many dark glances were exchanged.  Neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to have anything to say to their fungus-hunting partners, but Harry and Malfoy were looking at each other oddly.  I couldn’t tell if they were going to kill each other or launch into a snogging session once they were out of sight.

The Potions Master of Hogwarts and I stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest as the others disappeared into the sinister-looking trees.  If there was ever a “silence” could be cut with a knife, this was it.  He made no move to enter the forest.

“Madam Pomfrey did say that I should avoid excitement and…I’m, er, feeling a little faint,” I said, nursing the absurd hope that he would let me go back to the castle by myself.  My hope was smashed into little tiny pieces, all faintly whimpering in the background, as I dared to look up at the blacker-than-night eyes fixed up on me.

“Do you remember your mother?” His soft voice caught me off guard.

“No.”  I didn’t honestly remember anything prior to the Sorting Ceremony.

“You look so much like her…” he said as he trailed his fingertips lightly across my cheek.

I had fallen into a trance, or so it seemed, and no longer had powers of speech or movement.  I watched helplessly, rooted to the earth like one of those sinister trees, as he brought his lips to mine.

Everything went black, mercifully, and I knew no more.