The Staff of Orkney

Chapter VII

Angry Scar

 
Harry and the rest of the Gryffindors were rather glum for the rest of the weekend. Their first match had to be against the Slytherins. Harry’s first game as captain was going to be against their greatest rivals, but then again, it would be Draco’s first time as captain as well. Draco: annoyingly enough he had taken most of the good practice slots. Harry wanted to complain to Professor LeSal but he wasn’t there when he dropped off the parchment and he didn’t feel like trying to find him in the staff quarters.

He really didn’t think anything of not being able to find LeSal until Monday morning.

They had all been expecting a test in Potions and had stayed up late Sunday night studying and preparing themselves for the test and came in prepared for Old Snape’s usual snide remarks and pressure.

Harry walked in, bracing himself, but he got a shock as soon as he looked around. For the first time since he had been at Hogwarts, Professor Snape was not there. Dumbledore stood at the head of the classroom.

“You may leave as soon as you have completed your exams,” Dumbledore said as he handed out pieces of parchment. “Professor Snape informed me that all of the ingredients you will need can be found in your class cupboard. Also, those of you who have Defense Against the Dark Arts later today, your class has been cancelled.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks. “I hope they’re all right,” Ron whispered.

There was a good deal of whispering, especially from the Slytherin side of the room. Dumbledore was watching them grimly, his arms crossed.

“Idiots,” Harry mumbled.

Hermione gave him a questioning look.

“You can probably guess where the Snapes are,” he said lowly so that no one else could hear. “And I bet you two to one that a lot of their parents are with them,” and he jerked his head toward the Slytherins. “That’s probably what they’re talking about—and in front of Dumbledore. Not too bright, but good for us.”

Hermione swallowed, nodded, then looked down at her test.

* * * * *

Both Snape and LeSal were seen in the castle the following day and Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts resumed as usual on Friday. Snape was being as contemptuous as always, seemingly dissatisfied that the Gryffindors did so well on the test while the Slytherins mainly failed. What was unusual was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor LeSal was hideously grouchy.

What more, was that Harry’s scar suddenly began to burn.

Dean Thomas had already been harshly scolded for making a snide comment about Professor Snape. Professor LeSal had lashed out and given Dean a detention in which he was to report to Filch and had taken points from Gryffindor. He then turned on the entire class when he had asked for them to take out their texts to review some questions for the O.W.L.s. The class had gotten used to not using them and had not brought them with.

“What do you mean none of you have your books?” Professor LeSal asked angrily of the shocked class.

Harry began to wonder if he had somehow ended up in Potions again. LeSal’s voice sounded strangely similar to Severus’ at the moment.

“You come to class without your books? I can’t believe this. How do any of you plan on passing your O.W.L.s.? Ten points from Gryffindor,” he paced the front of the classroom, his dark red cape swishing angrily after him. “And I am assigning you all an essay on the best ways to repel a Dementor and battle a giant. It’s to be at least three feet long, and I will take points off for large writing, Mr. Weasley. You’re to have it finished by the time you return here on Monday.”

“What?” someone squawked. “You can’t assign homework over the weekend like that. We’ve got the Quidditch match tomorrow.”

“Do not argue with me, Mr. Thomas. You are already in trouble as it is,” Professor LeSal said in a low hiss exactly like Snape’s. “I advise you to shut your mouth for the remainder of the class.”

Harry heard Ron cuss under his breath. Ever since the tryouts, Ron had claimed LeSal as an enemy for lending Creevey a Firebolt. He continued to insist that the broom was cursed. At the moment, Harry thought about it himself. The relationship between the Snapes was currently very clear. He began to turn over all the things that Sirius and Remus said.

“He’s in pain,” Hermione whispered, breaking his train of thought.

“What?”

“Look at him,” Hermione said, leaning over. “Something’s wrong.”

When he looked, Harry couldn’t see how he had missed it. LeSal didn’t look well. There were beads of perspiration on his forehead and under his nose. He was on the whole quite disheveled. His hair wasn’t brushed all the way through, and he hadn’t put his usual sash on over his robes.

“Potter!”

The sudden exclamation caused Harry to jump.

“You and Miss Granger here seem to be off on your own little subject. Mind sharing it with the class?”

Harry gulped.

“It’s just that you’re acting different,” Hermione ventured. “We were wondering what was wrong. Are you all right, Professor?”

LeSal seemed a little taken aback by the question. It was evident he wasn’t expecting such a response and was a bit awkward in knowing how to reply. He opened his mouth and closed it again.

“Are you okay, Professor?” Lavender asked. “You’re acting like Old Professor Snape.”

At this, the professor leaned heavily against his desk and gripped the edge of it tightly. “No I’m not well,” he finally admitted. “Now…pick up your things. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The class gathered their books. “I wonder if I still have a detention,” Harry heard Dean say as he was leaving.

“Harry, wait,” the professor called out, stopping him in his tracks.

Harry whirled around. LeSal had collapsed into a chair. “Come here.”

The last of the class left and Harry stood nervously before LeSal.

“I need you to go into my office. You’ll find a bottle with blue powder on the mantel.” Harry noticed that he was having difficulty breathing. “Throw some into the fireplace and ask for Snape’s office. Stick your head in and tell him that I need him immediately. If he’s not there, try the apartment.”

Harry nodded and headed out of the room. Why did the professor have to ask him to fetch Snape? He shook slightly as he reached for the powder on the mantel. He was the last person that Snape would want poking his head unexpectedly into his office.

He threw the powder over the fire. “Potions office,” he said and carefully leaned over the fire, the flames of which had turned a deep blue.

It was rather strange. His first thought was of a giraffe, as it seemed he was stretching his neck through the network of flues. When his head finally stopped he found himself looking into Snape’s office. He was seated at his desk, leaning over a deck of cards. He was rapidly turning them over.

Harry swallowed hard. “Uh, scuse me, Professor.”

Snape whirled around. “Potter, what are you doing?” He sounded slightly angry but yet somewhat frightened by the intrusion. He struck Harry as being strangely jumpy.

“Professor LeSal told me to get you.”

Snape pushed the cards aside angrily and stood up. “He’s sick, isn’t he?”

“Uh, yes, he is,” Harry replied.

Shoving a chair aside, Snape grabbed a goblet and a bottle of some smoking yellow liquid. “Get out of the way Potter.”

For a moment, Harry was somewhat uncertain as to what he was supposed to do, but rather than ask Snape, he forced himself to pull back and found his head rushing back toward his body. He had barely managed to stumble away from the fireplace when Snape came stepping through.

Professor Snape didn’t even look at him as he stormed by toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Harry followed far behind to retrieve his things.

“If you’d take this like I told you, you wouldn’t be having this problem,” Snape was scolding.

LeSal was leaning sickly over his desk as Snape poured some of the liquid into the goblet. “I think I’m going to need you to step in for me tomorrow for the Quidditch match,” he said wearily.

“No,” Snape said, pushing the goblet toward him. “If you take this three times today, you should be fine tomorrow.”

The goblet was steaming and Harry got a putrid whiff of it. LeSal had grabbed it and was grimacing. He took a swig and immediately began coughing violently. “Damnit, Sev. This stuff burns.”

“You know it will help.”

“Or kill me.”

Snape suddenly noticed Harry. “Potter, get out of here!”

“Wait,” LeSal said, putting down the goblet. He grabbed at the edge of Harry’s robes to stop him. “Thank you, Harry. I just couldn’t ask any of the other students. You understand. They can’t know what’s going on.” But Harry didn’t hear much. It was as if someone had just touched a hot poker to his head. It was quick but it made him cringe and place a hand on his forehead. Neither Snape nor LeSal seemed to have noticed.

“Potter, please leave, and you,” Snape said turning back to LeSal, “I want to see you finish drinking that. I will not take over your Quidditch duties if you choose not to take all of it.”

Harry saw LeSal once again pick up the goblet as he hurried from the room. The scar on his head was still pulsing from the bout of pain. It was the first time it had hurt since last year, and though it was short, it frightened him.

* * * * *

The weather Saturday was not too bad. It was cloudy, which would mean they wouldn’t have to play with the sun in their eyes. The only bad thing was that there was a light rain coming down. Harry stood out on the field shivering in the rain with the rest of the team. The Slytherins had not yet arrived.

The crowd was beginning to grumble.

“If they don’t come, we win,” George said hopefully. “Where’s Professor LeSal?”

Harry looked around and hoped he was coming. He wasn’t ready to have Professor Snape referee his first game.

“I sure hope that I get to see a game.”

Harry turned around at the sound Fudge’s voice.

“Minister,” he said. “Sorry that you’re having to wait. We don’t know yet where the Slytherins are.”

“Ah, yes,” said Fudge. “Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Always promises to be a good game.”

Harry didn’t want to talk to Fudge. He didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment besides someone who could tell him what was going on. Malfoy was making him furious. He began to hope for a forfeit.

“Harry, I need to speak to you after the game,” Fudge said lowly.

“Good morning, Cornelius.” Dumbledore walked up from behind them and stood before Fudge. From the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, he did not seem at all happy.

“Dumbledore,” Fudge took a step back and placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You’ve been extremely difficult to contact over the summer.”

“I’ve been busy,” Dumbledore replied curtly.

As Harry watched them, he realized there seemed to be a second conversation taking place between them. One much deeper than the one on the surface. He could feel Fudge’s grip on his shoulder getting tighter.

“There are many questions left unanswered about last year’s events at this school that left one student dead.”

“I believe you have the answers to those questions,” answered Dumbledore. “And there has been more than enough proof over the summer. I believe many of your Aurors have had their hands full.”

“Still there are some things that I wish to sort out,” Fudge released his grip on Harry and patted his shoulder. “I’m requesting that you allow me to question Mr. Potter.”

Harry barely took notice that the Slytherins had come onto the field. Didn’t Fudge call him a liar last time? He felt extremely uncomfortable.

Dumbledore crossed his arms. “I am sorry, Minister, but I’d rather not have Harry leave the grounds.”

“I don’t believe you understand,” Fudge drawled, “I am not merely making a request. I am demanding to see him. There are questions that it is imperative that we have answers to. Now, it will only be for a few hours and we can arrange to have him come on a weekend. You may also have a professor accompany him if you wish. However, if you come, you will not be allowed to be present when we question him.”

“And why is that?” Dumbledore did not seem happy at all.

“We do not wish you to pressure him into saying anything or leaving something out.”

“What is there to leave out?” Harry finally spoke up. “Voldemort’s back!” Fudge cringed at the name. “He killed Cedric and tried to kill me. What else do you want to know?”

“Frankly, there is a lot,” Fudge replied. “Don’t worry, Harry. You’re not in trouble. The Diggory’s are some of those who want answers. Don’t you wish to help Cedric’s parents?”

Dumbledore stepped closer to Harry. “I will give it consideration as will Harry, but it will be his decision. And I daresay this is the time or place to discuss this,” he added sternly.

“Very well. But remember this,” Fudge turned to head back to the bleachers. “I could still have you removed as headmaster,” and then he walked away, passing Professor LeSal and Snape who exchanged glares.

“What does he want?” Snape asked.

“He wishes to question Harry about last year,” Dumbledore said with a sigh.

“He wants to take him to the Ministry?” LeSal furrowed his brow.

“Why would he need him?” Snape asked. “What’s Fudge up to that he needs to pull a student from school?” There seemed to be a hint of loathing in his voice.

“Yes, we know what happened last time a student was pulled for ‘questioning,’” LeSal said bitterly.

“Enough of this talk,” Dumbledore put up his hand. “Harry, play a good game. We’ll discuss this later.”

His team was summoning him, and he left Dumbledore for his huddled teammates. He told himself to not think of what was just said and instead set his mind on the game. After all, he had been waiting for so long to play. He gripped his Firebolt, looked determinedly over at Malfoy, and leaned into the huddle.

“I think we’ll have an advantage in this game,” he said in a hushed voice. “I believe Malfoy is going to think he can cheat…”

“But McGonagall said…”

“I heard what she said,” Harry explained quickly. “I trust LeSal to make him follow the rules, especially with Fudge in the audience.” He removed his glasses and wiped the rain from them, took out his wand and placed a water-repelling charm on them. “So be careful. You’ve watched the Slytherins play before, haven’t you Dennis?”

Dennis nodded and clutched his broomstick tighter to him.

“Be careful,” Harry cautioned. “All of you. They may really start playing dirty.”

“Captains, are your teams ready?” Professor LeSal sat hovering a few feet over the field on a broom, his fur lined cape wrapped tightly around him.

Both Harry and Malfoy stepped forward.

“Then shake hands and we’ll begin.”

Harry stepped toward Malfoy and tried his best to hide his disgust. They took each other’s extended hand and squeezed. Harry hoped that his grip was stronger than Malfoy’s, though he had a fairly strong hand himself.

“Uh, that’ll be enough,” LeSal said softly as he watched them attempting to pop the blood from each other’s fingers.

They let go and Malfoy sneered. “I’ll beat you this time, Potter. Have a safe flight,” and he chuckled as he headed back for his team.

“Ready.” LeSal was opening the box containing all the balls. “Let the game begin.”

Harry watched as the golden snitch burst from its enclosure and flittered off. He kicked off the soft ground hard and soared upwards above the game. Malfoy followed and leveled out a few meters away. He made a rude hand gesture and Harry returned it then focused his attention on finding the snitch. He wished he could find it now and shove it in Malfoy’s face.

The Gryffindor chasers were already doing a fine job and he heard Lee Jordan exclaim, “Will you look at that? The Gryffindors already have a score, just seconds into the game! Will there be a game at all? Seems like the Slytherins still haven’t arrived yet.”

“What are you doing?” Malfoy screamed down at his teammates. “Go after those girls!”

Harry searched even harder for the snitch. Now would be a perfect time for it to show: while Malfoy wasn’t paying attention. He noticed that the players were suddenly rushing toward the Gryffindor goals.

“Byron Brocklehurst, newest and youngest player on the Slytherin team has the Quaffle and is moving in fast. Oh yes! Nice save Creevey! Oh! What was that? Why you dirty little warlock! Professor LeSal is calling a time out. One of those dirty Slytherin snakes hit Katy Bell with their beater paddle. Foul!”

Harry heard mumbling from the announcer and supposed it was McGonagall reprimanding Lee, as he and Malfoy landed on the field. He hurried over to where Katy sat holding the side of her face.

“It was an accident!” Malfoy exclaimed, striding up to Professor LeSal.

“I don’t want to hear it, Draco,” LeSal replied. “Yes Poppy, is she going to be all right?”

“She’ll just be a little bruised,” Madam Pomfrey replied as she held her wand up to Katy Bell’s face.

“I say they should forfeit!” George yelled.

“Shut up, Weasley, it was an accident!” Malfoy countered.

“Stop arguing,” LeSal ordered. “Or I’ll call a foul on both teams.” He turned to Malfoy, “Draco, you better start playing a cleaner game starting now, or I will have Slytherin forfeit to Gryffindor.”

“But it was an accident…”

“Do you want me to let them take two penalty shots?”

Malfoy looked shocked. “But…”

LeSal threw him a warning look. “Penalty shot! Now let’s get back to the game. Are you in Miss Bell?”

Katy stood up and nodded.

“Okay then. Back in the air!” and he blew a whistle.

They kicked off once again and took position to take the penalty shot. Katy scored it.

“Good shot!” Jordan’s voice boomed. “Sixty to zero—serves you right, you—sorry Ms. McGonagall. Gryffindors lead.”

Harry went back to searching for the snitch. Malfoy followed him and he leaned forward on his Firebolt to lose him, but he suddenly noticed what Malfoy had.

“Father got me a Firebolt too, Potter,” Malfoy said proudly.

“Get lost,” said Harry and he desperately looked around for a glint of gold.

“Fat chance. I can keep up with you now.”

Harry cussed irritably under his breath, then he remembered something. The Wronskei Feint. Images of the Irish seeker plowing into the turf came through his mind. He imagined Malfoy smacking into the ground instead and smiled.

“Here comes Brocklehurst again,” Jordan was saying. “Looks like the Slytherins finally realized that not all their players had to be oversized trolls. Oh no! He scored.”

“Good job, Byron!” Malfoy screamed. “Kick those Gryffindor…”

Harry went into a dive. Malfoy noticed and went swooping down after him desperately looking for the snitch.

There was no snitch, and Harry held back so the Malfoy could catch up. They were pummeling toward the ground at an astonishing rate.

“Look!” Jordan cried. “The seekers have seen the—ooo!” Just feet from the ground, Harry pulled up, missing the turf by inches, but Malfoy was too late. “It was the Wronskei Feint! Just like Krum!” Jordan was exclaiming excitedly. “And poor Malfoy, that had to hurt.”

Harry landed and looked on as Madam Pomfrey tried to weed her way through the Slytherin team, who had crowded around Malfoy. He hadn’t gotten up yet.

“Everyone, back!” LeSal ordered. The Slytherins parted for him. “Draco! Are you okay?”

There was no answer and suddenly, Harry’s feeling of triumph melted. What if he had seriously hurt him? What if…

“Potter broke my broom!” Malfoy suddenly screamed.

Harry’s teammates had gathered around him. “If he’s concerned about that, then he must be all right,” Angelina commented.

Professor LeSal had finally managed to clear a good area around Malfoy and when Harry and his team got a glimpse of him, they all cringed at once. He had a split lip and what looked to be a broken nose.

Fred and George turned around. “Way to go Potter! You got him good,” and they raised a hand for a high five.

“Harry, if it were anyone else, I’d feel bad. But I’ll admit, that serves him right,” Alicia commented. “Good job.”

Harry decided to step closer to see what was to happen next with the game. LeSal had a hold of Malfoy’s broom and was busy mending it with his staff while Madam Pomfrey was mending Malfoy.

“That was a foul!” Malfoy exclaimed to Professor LeSal.

“Yes,” LeSal agreed.

“What?” Harry called out, and he decided to come over. “Was not.”

“Now don’t argue with me, Harry,” LeSal said as he finished fixing Malfoy’s Firebolt. “While what you did was very skillful, your intention was to cause Mr. Malfoy harm.”

“But I did the Wronskei Feint!”

“Yes, you did. And very well too. But your intentions were no different than that of the beater’s who hit Katy.”

“The Wronskei Feint isn’t illegal!” Harry argued.

“Yes it is.”

Harry couldn’t believe this. “But you taught Victor Krum…”

“And I called a foul whenever he did it.”

Harry looked over and saw Malfoy looking daggers at him. “We should get two penalty shots. That was a lousy trick Potter did.”

“You’ll receive one,” LeSal replied simply. “But only one.”

Malfoy looked even more furious. “You’ll regret this Potter! My father…”

Professor LeSal turned sharply. “Gave me permission to use corporal punishment on you,” he interrupted. “Now enough, Draco. Don’t make me embarrass you anymore than you already are.”

For once, Draco looked lost for words. Harry had to turn away, most of his team was grinning.

“Penalty,” LeSal announced. “A penalty shot to Slytherin.”

There was booing from the Gryffindor side of the stands and Lee Jordan was voicing his complaints.

“Don’t worry,” Fred said, patting Harry on the back before they took off. “It was worth it to see Malfoy rearrange his face in the mud.”

They soared into the air and once again Harry took his place as lookout. Malfoy joined him.

“You will regret this.”

“Hope your face doesn’t swell up too much,” Harry replied. “Though purple does go well with green.”

He heard Malfoy swear.

Byron Brocklehurst made the shot. Harry didn’t blame Creevey, however, Brocklehurst was better than he wanted to admit. They’d have to watch him in the future. Then he saw it.

Glittering over some of the Slytherin spectators was the snitch. He glanced over at Malfoy who was still busy cursing and decided to run for it. He shot down quickly. There was a whooshing sound behind him and he knew Malfoy was probably hot on his tail, but he had had the head start. The Slytherins looked above them and pointed at it, screaming. The roar of the crowds sounded in his ears as he came upon it. The Slytherins were booing and some even threw some cockroach clusters at him as his fingers closed around the snitch. He held it high for everyone-- and Malfoy, to see and soared out of reach of the Slytherin crowd.

He felt his heart fluttering as fast as the snitch’s wings as the noise of the cheering crowd gave him a rush. Then he was hit by something.

He was taken by complete surprise and as he fell from his broom, he got a glimpse of a malevolent looking Malfoy with wand in hand.

Harry was falling fast and he had been extremely high off the ground. He looked desperately at his teammates who were rushing toward him. Insanely enough, he realized that he was still madly clutching the snitch.

Then he felt a firm hand grab onto him, but at the same time his scar exploded with pain. The hand let go, but quickly caught him again. His scar hurt him so badly, that he let go of the snitch and heard himself yell out.

He was dropped roughly on the ground and the just lay on the wet grass, letting the rain beat on his face as he waited for the pain to recede. When he opened his eyes he saw the worried faces of his teammates. A few feet away, he also saw Professor LeSal kneeling on the ground. He was clutching at a hand that looked to have been seriously burned.