Harry Potter and the Sect of the Serpent

CHAPTER TWENTY -- Rebound

Harry watched a drop of water run off the end of his nose from which it dripped onto scarlet Quidditch robes already soaked through. If the dormitory weren't quite so far away or the stairs quite so steep, he would have gone upstairs and changed into something decidedly less drippy and cold. However, it had taken every ounce of his strength just to walk from the Quidditch pitch up to Gryffindor Tower, so instead, he sat slumped on the squashy sofa in front of the roaring fire in the common room and dripped.

"I... can't... move..." Ginny moaned from where she was sitting next to him. Her flaming red hair hung in dark, limp strands around her face, and occasionally a droplet would collect at the end of one of the strands only to splash down onto her shoulders. Harry wanted to nod in agreement, but he felt that if he moved his head forward at all, it would pitch down onto his chest and stay there.

"Someone put me out of my misery," Andrew groaned from an armchair nearby. He was curled in a fetal position after having pulled a groin muscle during a particularly impressive, but ineffective attempt to lob a Bludger at Ron's head. "Just kill me. Kill me now."

"You should go to the hospital wing," Katie said wearily. "Let Madam Pomfrey put us all out of your misery." She was slumped in the other armchair with her head tilted back towards the ceiling. Her long brown pony tail was hanging over the back of the chair and dripping rhythmically into an ever growing puddle on the carpet.

"Fnrgh..." Jack said. He was lying face down in front of the fireplace where he had collapsed with his long arms and legs sprawled out in all directions. His sandy blond hair was matted with rain and mud where he'd taken a sort of swan dive off his broom into the muck. Will, who was sitting on the floor with his back up against the sofa, nudged the prostrate figure with his foot. "Fnrgh!" Jack repeated emphatically.

"You lot look like death warmed up," Hermione said briskly as she approached them from the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Harry managed to turn his head enough to see her through water-blurred glasses.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked hoarsely.

Hermione grinned and nodded, handing him a bottle of Butterbeer.

"You are my personal hero," Harry said, staring reverently at the bottle in his hands and thinking that he had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. He took a long drink and felt the warm liquid sliding down into his stomach, beginning to thaw him from the inside out.

"Where did you get -- never mind. I don't care where. You're an angel," Katie said gratefully to Hermione as she accepted the bottle passed to her.

"Ron and I stocked up in Hogsmeade on Friday," Hermione explained as she passed them each a bottle, pausing momentarily before setting one next to Jack's head on the hearth. She handed one to Andrew who looked up at her seriously through his dark brown hair, now almost black with rain and hanging down in front of his eyes.

"I would ask you to marry me right here and now," he said sincerely, "but I think I am permanently disfigured and wouldn't make a very good husband." Hermione blushed and giggled.

"But where's Ron?" she asked, holding up the last bottle of Butterbeer. A collective grumble went up from the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"He's still out on the pitch," Ginny growled.

"What?" Hermione exclaimed. "But it's pouring. And dark."

"Try telling him that," Will said softly before taking a long pull of his Butterbeer. Hermione looked to Harry, who sighed.

"He thinks he needs more practice," he said unenthusiastically. "He tried to convince us all to stay out there with him, and when we wouldn't, he bewitched a Quaffle to fly at him..."

"Only he kept losing it in the rain..." Ginny giggled. She hiccoughed a little and took another sip of Butterbeer.

"Why does he think you need more practice?" Hermione demanded as she stomped over to the nearest window. There was no way she was going to be able to see the pitch, but she stared out into the blackness regardless.

"Not us," Harry corrected her. "Him. And he doesn't need more practice either. He's just being paranoid."

"I got a couple of goals past him," Will said, a small note of triumph in his high voice.

"And you know how he gets," Katie continued. "Once he lets one in..."

"It all goes to hell," Andrew finished. He shifted slightly so he could pick up Jack's Butterbeer and groaned. "I hope he washes away."

"Andrew, where's your team spirit?" Katie chided without enthusiasm.

"Team spirit my sodding great arse," Andrew said with feeling.

Hermione came away from the window and perched on the arm of the sofa next to Harry, giving him a questioning look. Harry closed his eyes.

"We've been trying out these drills he came up with--" he began.

Another collective groan went up from his teammates.

"Don't even say the word drill," Ginny commanded. "It makes my head hurt."

"Are the drills helping?" Hermione asked hopefully. Harry opened one eye and gave her a baleful look. She bit her lip.

"When Ron says 'drill', what he really means is 'elaborately slow and torturous recipe for the elimination of teammates,'" Andrew complained. "Too bad we can't aim his drills at the opposition. He's completely and totally insane."

"He makes Oliver look normal," Katie agreed.

"Oh I don't know," Harry protested wearily. "He's just a bit... zealous."

Hermione frowned sympathetically. "Still," she said after a moment, "don't you think someone should fetch him?"

"Be our guest," Katie said morosely. "I'll even lend you my broom."

"And take a mac," Andrew suggested, wringing out the sleeve of his robes onto the floor. "I think it's supposed to rain." A large rumble of thunder rolled through the castle as though to emphasize his words.

"Ooof," Ginny said as she fell over onto Harry's shoulder with a rather wet squish. "I'm going to stay right here and sleep for a week."

"Can't," Will said sagely. "Lessons tomorrow." Another unanimous groan. Hermione got up again and went back over to the window, hugging her arms to herself.

"He'll be all right," Harry called to her. "Once he's cooled off a bit, he'll realize that he's being a monumental git and come inside." Hermione gave him a doubtful look.

They were all silent for a while.

"So, you think we're going to win on Saturday?" Katie asked. No one answered.

"It can't be as bad as all that..." Hermione said.

Still, no one answered.

"Well, I'm off to bed," Katie said at last, forcing herself up out of the armchair. "I've Snape first thing in the morning, and I might just cry if I have to look at his slimy face on any less sleep."

Will got up as well and wandered away quietly towards the boys' dormitories. Harry watched him go. It was true that he had scored twice during their practice, but the boy was unpredictable. He would run the drills perfectly five or six times in a row, then change his mind one time and confuse the other Chasers by trying to score for himself. When it worked, Harry thought, you couldn't fault him: it worked. But when it didn't...

Andrew gingerly began unfolding himself from the armchair, two empty Butterbeer bottles sitting at his feet. He winced dramatically as he limped over to Jack and kicked him unceremoniously in the leg. Jack lifted his head an inch or so off the floor and said, "Die."

"Fine," Andrew replied, "carry your own sorry arse up the stairs." When Jack didn't reply, Andrew shrugged and limped towards the boys' spiral stairs.

Harry blinked slowly at the fire. Ginny had the right idea. Her breathing had become slow and regular, and she was warm against his shoulder. Though his arm, he noticed with dismay, was quickly falling asleep. He shifted slightly to try to get her off of him, and she made a little disgruntled noise. Eyes still shut, she grabbed his arm and moved it so that it was slung over her shoulder, her head now resting on his chest. Harry sighed and gave up trying to shift her, just glad that the blood was returning to his fingers.

He glanced over and saw that Hermione was still standing by the window, staring out into the rain lashed darkness. "He's fine," Harry said at last, causing Hermione to start. "He's just stupid, that's all."

She laughed a halfheartedly and came back over to the fire, picking up a book from her stack on the table as she passed. "Well, we knew that," she said, dropping into Andrew's vacated armchair and leaping up again with a sudden, "Eww!" She muttered a quick Drying Spell before settling back into the chair.

"You two look comfortable," she said wryly, gesturing at Ginny.

"She's like a cat," Harry yawned. "She can sleep anywhere." Hermione just shook her head, still smiling.

"You gonna wait up for Ron, then?" Harry asked.

Hermione blushed a little and opened her book. "Might as well..."

Harry nodded and yawned again. He thought vaguely that he ought to wait up as well, and while the 'wait' was quite easy in his current state, the 'up' was less so. Before long, his eyelids had dropped and his chin was resting comfortably on top of Ginny's head.

"Ahem," a very disgruntled sounding voice said, and Harry's eyes snapped open.

It must have been quite late, as the fire had died down and the common room had emptied out. Jack had hauled himself up to bed at some point during the interim, and left only a puddle on the hearth. Hermione was snoozing soundly in her armchair nearby, book lying open in her lap.

"Ron," Harry said groggily as he blinked up at his friend. Ron looked like a drowned rat; his hair and robes were plastered to him as though he'd lost an argument with the giant squid.

"What's all this, then?" Ron demanded, gesturing wildly in Harry's general vicinity. Harry frowned at him, trying to figure out what he was talking about, when Ginny snorted and began burying her head deeper in Harry's shoulder.

"Ah," he said.

"Ah?" Ron repeated incredulously. "AH?" Hermione started awake at the sound of his voice.

"Ron!" she exclaimed. "Finally!" She jumped up out of her chair. "Are you insane staying out in weather like this?"

"No. I for one would like to win the match on Saturday, and if we mean to do that, we all have to be our best! I needed more practice."

Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Harry didn't seem to think you needed more practice. And what good are you going to do the team if you catch cold from spending all night on your broom in the rain?"

"Oh, what do you know?" Ron demanded shortly. Hermione stared at him.

Harry quickly hoisted himself and Ginny into more of a sitting position and pushed her head roughly off of his shoulder.

"Huh?" Ginny said, jarring awake. She wobbled slightly and blinked slowly. Ron was staring daggers at them both.

"Come on Ginny," Hermione huffed, grabbing both of Ginny's hands and pulling her to her feet, "it's time for bed." Hermione threw a rather disappointed look over her shoulder at Ron before she led Ginny up the stairs.

"What are you thinking?" Ron asked as soon as the girls were gone.

"Huh?" Harry asked, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

"Ginny!" Ron continued, pointing at the girls' staircase. "What were the two of you doing snuggling on the sofa? She's my sister -- she's practically your sister! Besides which, she has a boyfriend."

"She doesn't have a boyfriend," Harry muttered as he got to his feet.

"What?"

Suddenly, Harry was wide awake and painfully aware of what he'd just said. Ginny was going to kill him.

"Nothing," he said quickly, hoping to cover for his gaffe. He turned towards the stairs.

"What d'you mean she doesn't have a boyfriend?" Ron demanded. "What about Dean?"

Harry sighed. "She broke it off with Dean," he said quickly. "But you can't let on that you know! She made me promise not to tell you."

At the news that his sister was no longer involved with one of his roommates, Ron's face lit up happily. Unfortunately, it fell as he realized that his sister had broken up with one of his roommates.

"What happened?" he asked darkly.

Harry winced. "Why don't you ask her?" he suggested. "Or Dean? Ask Dean."

"What happened, Harry?" Harry heard something in Ron's voice that reminded him dangerously of Mrs. Weasley, so he relented for the good of Gryffindor Tower's sleeping residents.

"She caught him snogging Lavender on the side."

Surprisingly, Ron seemed to take the news rather well. He contemplated Harry's words for a moment, nodded slowly, and then turned towards the stairs.

"I'll kill him," he said in a frighteningly calm voice.

"No!" Harry cried, grabbing the back of Ron's robes. "You can't! I promised her I wouldn't tell! She'll kill me!"

Ron frowned. He seemed torn between his best friend's life and his sister's virtue. Harry pleaded silently with him until he sighed and shrugged out of Harry's grasp.

"All right," he said crossly. "I won't let on that I know." Harry took a deep breath, relieved. It was premature.

"But that still doesn't explain the sofa," Ron grumbled. "I thought you were with Gwyn. If you're stringing Ginny along --"

"Woah!" Harry exclaimed quickly. "No, no, no. Not stringing Ginny along. We just fell asleep. She's like my sister, right? I'm definitely -- well, probably... er... I'm with Gwyn."

Ron narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Does Ginny know that?" he asked suspiciously. Harry nodded vigorously and vehemently hoped that Ginny did.

Ron considered for a moment and then nodded, apparently satisfied. "She's a right pain. Falls asleep in the weirdest places. One New Year's she nodded off on top of my left leg and Mum wouldn't let me budge her. Got pins and needles like you can't even imagine..." Relieved, Harry followed Ron up to the dormitory, only half listening to his waffle, but when he saw the venomous look that Ron gave to the curtains of Dean's four-poster, he worried that this wasn't the end of the affair.

"It isn't fair," Gwyn said firmly the next night, as she and Harry sat working with Padma and Justin in the library. "And I've half a mind to report it to the headmaster."

"And when you do," Harry countered, "Snape will just find some other way to take it out on me."

Padma sighed. "It isn't as if your potion was even that far off, this time," she said, consolingly. "I was watching you, and yours wasn't nearly as bad as Pansy Parkinson's; hers looked like something my mum's kneazle might cough up."

Harry shook his head. "Doesn't make any difference," he said sullenly. "Snape vanishes my potions indiscriminately these days."

Justin chewed on the end of his quill thoughtfully. "What you need," he said slowly, "is a way to make your potion vanish-proof."

"Yeah," Harry agreed unenthusiastically.

"That's not a bad idea," Padma said. "You could just use a variation of the Imperturbable Charm..." Suddenly she jumped out of her chair and headed off towards the stacks.

Gwyn sighed. "And we've lost her. Thanks a lot, Justin. I hope you know where to look for the history of blood thinning serums, or we're not going to get anything done until she gets back."

Justin shrugged sheepishly and reached for Padma's book.

When Harry walked into the Potions dungeon two days later, however, he not only had a full fourteen inches written on the history of potions affecting the blood -- two inches longer than required -- he was also armed with a cauldron that Padma assured him would allow him to add things to it, but would allow nothing to be taken away, magically or otherwise, until he ended the incantation.

Hermione waved gloomily as she moved to her seat at the back of the classroom. Harry and Gwyn opted for desks on the opposite side of the room, as far away from Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins as possible. As they began working on their potions, Malfoy dug anxiously into his bag for a scrap of parchment and began scribbling wildly.

"Oh no," Gwyn whispered as he shoved the note at Pansy and indicated for her to pass it on. Pansy scowled, but did as he asked. When the parchment reached Gwyn, she took it, looked directly at Malfoy, and tore it in half without even opening it. She then fed the pieces to the fire under her cauldron. Harry watched with unabashed glee as Malfoy's face began to turn red and his eager expression became an ugly scowl.

Gwyn smiled wickedly at Malfoy and very deliberately reached across her desk to take Harry's hand. Just then, Pansy leaned over and began whispering in Malfoy's ear. All at once, the color drained completely from his face, along with any sign of emotion at all. Harry wondered what Pansy had said.

"Potter! Griffiths!"

Harry's attention snapped back as he looked up, horrified to see Professor Snape staring down disdainfully at his and Gwyn's interlocked fingers. He quickly let go and dropped his hand into his lap.

"A classroom is not the place for such blatant public displays," Snape drawled. Gwyn opened her mouth as though to respond.

"No, Sir," Harry interjected quickly before she could say a word. Snape sneered at Harry's uncharacteristic acquiescence. He glanced over at the contents of the charmed cauldron.

"Am I going to have to separate you and Miss Griffiths as well, Potter? This distraction seems to be interfering with you work. " He pointed his wand over Harry's cauldron. "And I thought your brews could get no worse. Evanesco!"

For a moment, Harry felt a surge of triumph, feeling certain that Padma's charm would protect his potion from Snape's temper, but as the spell hit the cauldron, it rebounded back towards its source, and Harry's triumph faded.

Snape stumbled backwards a few steps. His hands flew to his face where the spell had struck, and Harry could do nothing but stare in mute horror as Snape slowly moved his fingers away to reveal that his nose had vanished.

For a moment, Snape fumbled almost comically, his fingers pawing the air where his large, hooked nose ought to have been. But it simply wasn't. Harry wrenched his eyes away from the sight long enough to glance over at Padma, who had her hands clapped over her mouth, her eyes as big as crystal balls.

"Wha..." Snape gasped. He had gone cross-eyed trying to look down at his own face, but not one of the students even so much as thought of laughing. Snape pointed his wand at his face and tried to speak the counter spell.

"Ocsenabe!" he said. Nothing happened. Harry's stomach dropped down around his feet. Snape couldn't pronounce the spell correctly because his nose was missing. Abruptly Snape looked up and his dark eyes focused on Harry. "YOU!" he roared in an oddly nasal voice, taking a step towards Harry. Harry braced himself, not sure whether to expect a physical or verbal attack.

"It was my idea!" Justin shouted suddenly, standing up from his seat behind Harry so fast that he knocked his stool to the ground. Snape paused in mid stride to stare at him

Harry whirled around. SHUT UP! he mouthed, but Justin wasn't looking at him. Harry wanted to beat him about the head with his wand; the stupid twat wasn't going to make anything better by trying to martyr himself.

Snape glared menacingly at Justin, who cowed slightly under the furious gaze. His black eyes shifted back to Harry.

"It was my spell!" Padma shouted suddenly, as she, too, leaped out of her seat. Harry gaped at her and tried to shake his head. Her dark eyes were darting back and forth between Harry and Snape. "I cast the spell. It was my mistake. Don't punish Harry!"

"We all helped," Gwyn said suddenly. Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He buried his head in his hands in disbelief; they were going to be massacred, and Snape would probably make him watch the others go first.

"It isn't right, the way you've been giving Harry all those zeros for his potions," Gwyn continued, seemingly unaffected by the deadly look Snape now trained on her. "But Harry didn't want us to go to the headmaster about it. He works hard for you and you won't even give him a fair chance, so we thought we'd even the odds." She was now matching Snape glare for glare. "We didn't know your spell would reflect back on you," she added as an afterthought. "That part was an accident."

Snape was livid. His normally pallid complexion invented new shades of crimson with his mounting rage. Fortunately, he also seemed to be, for once, at a complete loss for words. He raked his deadly glare over each of them in turn, but the others didn't seem to be willing to back down.

Harry wished they would. His stomach was writhing guiltily as though he'd swallowed an entire bucket of slugs.

"Dedentions!" Snape shouted. "All ob you!" He turned on his heel and stormed out of the classroom, leaving his students in stunned silence.

"Why did you do it?" Harry protested as they made their way up to the Great Hall. "I wouldn't have grassed on you. You were safe!"

Justin shrugged. "I dunno," he said, sounding a little forlorn. "I just didn't think it was right, you taking the blame, when it was my idea."

"It could have been much worse," Hermione said, trying to console Padma, who had gone as white as a ghost. "Detention's not so bad."

"But I've never had a detention before," she whimpered quietly. "Even Parvati's never had detention before! I'm a prefect! What are Mum and Dad going to say?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said glumly.

Padma swallowed hard and shook her head. "No, don't be. It's my own fault. If I hadn't botched up the spell--"

"If you hadn't opened your mouth you mean!" Harry said, exasperated. "Snape never would have known it was you. You shouldn't have got yourself in trouble."

"Oh give it a rest, Harry," Gwyn said, patting him on the shoulder. "We all know you're very brave and noble and would have taken the rap for us, but it wasn't right and you know it. Somebody needed to stand up to him."

"It didn't need to be you!" Harry retorted. "'We all helped.' What was that about?"

"Hey, I helped!" Gwyn said, indignantly. "I held the cauldron, didn't I?" She smiled slyly. "Besides, the look on his face was worth every minute I spend in detention."

Justin snorted. "It was rather an improvement, losing the nose and all," he chuckled. Hermione looked vaguely appalled.

"Yeah well..." Harry said, still feeling discomfited by the whole thing.

"Look," Gwyn said, taking his arm to hold him back and waving the others on, "think of it this way: you've stood up for me twice now, and I just wanted a chance to stand up for you." She reached down and interlaced her fingers with his.

"That explains why you decided to play the scapegoat, but what about those other two?" Harry grumbled halfheartedly.

"They're your friends, Harry. You'd have done the same for any of them, and they know it." She smiled at him. "They like you, Harry. I realize that's a difficult concept..."

He smiled at last; it was terribly difficult to hang on to a bad mood when Gwyn was smiling at him and holding his hand. "What about you, then?" he asked quietly.

"I like you too," she said, matter-of-factly, "though I thought that would have been obvious by now."

Harry shrugged, pretending to pout. "I like to be reminded."

Gwyn stood up on her tiptoes and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "How's that for a reminder?"

"So it's true, then."

Harry glanced up. Malfoy was standing across the Entrance Hall, staring at them. His wand was gripped tightly in his hand, feet planted wide apart, his black leather schoolbag and potions supplies forgotten at his feet. He was staring at Gwyn, who whirled around to face him.

"You're actually dating the scar-head," he said in a low icy voice. Harry was struck by how much Malfoy resembled his father, and he squeezed Gwyn's hand possessively. Malfoy snorted derisively. "And to think, you could have had me..."

Gwyn laughed haughtily. "You were never even in the running, Draco."

Malfoy's face was colorless and frighteningly blank. Harry couldn't help but feel that this was a bad sign. Slowly, he began to reach for his wand.

"Don't even think about it," Malfoy hissed. "She's dead before you draw, Potter." Harry froze, but his mind was racing. Surely Malfoy wouldn't be fool enough to try an unforgivable curse only a few steps from a Great Hall filled with people...

Anxiously, Harry glanced around the hall, scanning for a professor. Several small groups of students had gathered around the edges of the entrance hall, watching, unwilling to pass between Malfoy and his prey.

"Gawd, you're so full of it!" Gwyn said loudly. "You talk like such a big man, Draco, but really you're just a scared little boy." Harry stifled an urge to clamp his hand down over her mouth. Gwyn released his hand and took a step towards Malfoy.

"Do you want to know why I like Harry and I don't like you? Is that what this is about? Well I'll tell you. Harry is nice to me. He doesn't act like I'm some kind of trained poodle to be put on display. He doesn't treat me like an object, or a second class citizen. He respects me -- and that's something I doubt you can even comprehend."

She took another step towards Malfoy. Harry slowly started reaching for his wand again. Malfoy's eyes darted over to him, and Harry's eyes widened as he saw Malfoy's knuckles go white around his wand. Harry froze again. Gwyn either didn't notice, or didn't care.

"So you can just cut the crap with this big macho act you're putting on here. No one buys it. Least of all me." She was standing only a few paces away from him now, her hands on her hips, obviously daring him to try something. Malfoy's eyes were narrowed, but his face remained eerily calm.

"Mr. Potter!" a stern voice called, and Harry jumped as Professor McGonagall strode into the Entrance Hall. Malfoy dropped his wand, and Gwyn gave him a withering look as she walked back over to rejoin Harry. Professor McGonagall didn't spare a moment for either of them, her sharp eyes trained all the time on Harry.

"Professor Snape has just asked that I take care of your detentions for him, as he is in the Hospital Wing, recovering. I will expect you in my office at eight o'clock tonight."

Harry blanched. "But we've got Quidditch practice tonight, Professor! The match is only two days away!"

Professor McGonagall's glare hardened and she pressed her lips together tightly. "Perhaps you should have considered the consequences of your actions more thoroughly, Mr. Potter," she said in a tone of iciest disapproval. She glanced over at Gwyn.

"I would suggest you seek out Professor Flitwick, Miss Griffiths. No doubt he will want you to begin your detentions as soon as possible as well." With one last look at Harry, she turned and swept into the Great Hall. Harry glanced around quickly for Malfoy, but he had disappeared into the crowd.

"I'd better go tell Ron I've got detention," he said grimly as they followed Professor McGonagall into the Hall.

Gwyn looked confused.

"Well who else am I going to ask to lead Quidditch practice? He's practically Captain already anyway... I might as well abdicate now." Harry sighed.

"You don't mean that," Gwyn chided. They entered the Hall and Harry spotted Ron, already dressed in his practice robes, showing the other members of the Gryffindor team a play board he had drawn up.

"Don't I?"