Harry Potter and the Ancient Order

Chpt. 7. The Death Pool

Harry's classes the next day were the ones he looked forward to least. Divination in the morning and Potions in the afternoon meant a day of agony for him. Professor Trelawney, the Divination teacher, always predicted Harry's death whenever she could. Professor Snape, the potions Master, just wished that Harry were dead. A day spent with a rampaging manticore would provide more fun than these classes back to back.

Having woken up rather late, the Great Hall was almost filled when Harry arrived. What made him realize it was so full was the large amount of laughter taking place. Dean Thomas had apparently found it funny to teach the two new twins, Mervin and Marvin Palone, the waddiwassi spell that Professor Lupin had taught them back in their third year. The two were in the center of the Great Hall, breaking off bits of toast, and tossing them on the floor.

"Waddiwassi!" cried one (Harry didn't know which one, having yet to formally meet them) and sent a bit of toast flying up the other's nose, much to the delight of the Hall. As soon as the toast was removed, the other returned the favor. To Harry's surprise, they weren't fighting, as they were laughing hardest of all.

"Mental," Ron said as his laughter died down. Hermione stomped in from the dormitories just as one of the twins got a piece of toast stuck so far up his nose he couldn't stop sneezing.

"Enough, both of you!" she cried before she performed a scouring charm to remove the toast. The twins were still giggling like drunken gnomes as Hermione led them off to Professor McGonagall to be punished. Some people boo-ed Hermione (mostly first and second years), who silenced them with a look. She looked remarkably like Professor McGonagall whenever rule breaking occurred.

"I reckon they'll be worth a few evenings of entertainment," said Harry, helping himself to some bacon. "Bet that'll be the highlight of our day."

Ron made a face at the thought of the rough day ahead. Dean and Seamus stopped by with a roll of parchment and a collecting tin with a few coins jingling.

"We've got a Death Pool going, you want in?" asked Seamus.

"What's the bet?" asked Ron.

"We've got divination after lunch today. How's Harry gonna die this year?" asked Dean, unrolling the parchment. Harry noticed that "You-Know-Who" was listed under "Off Limits". Dean noticed Harry staring at it and grinned. "Too easy," he smirked. "House wins if she says that," he added with a confident jingle of the tin. Ron was busy reading some of the bets already made.

"Drowning in the lake? Eaten by a dragon? Too little, too late for that one. Gored by an erumpent, ouch (an erumpent's horn secrets a solution that causes the victim to explode). I think I'll go with 'mauled by a griffin'" Ron stated, pulling a sickle from his pocket and writing his choice down.

"Oh, thanks buddy," said Harry, who himself had decided on falling off a broomstick. "What happens if the house wins?" he asked Dean and Seamus.

"Then they should sponsor a House Party for Gryffindor," said Xander, who was sitting a few spots down talking to Alicia. Xander was busy writing down "infected ingrown toenail" as the rest of the Gryffindor table excitedly nodded their agreement, much to the dismay of Dean and Seamus. They had apparently planned on keeping the money for themselves.

"O.K., O.K., that sounds fair," said Seamus trying to make his voice sound excited but failing miserably. Fred and George, after much debate, had finally settled on "an unchecked Gregory Goyle chili fart" which brought many a snicker from those who read it.

Hermione had returned by this point and groaned "Ugh, that's gross," at reading Fred and George's predictions, but wrote down "poisoned by Snape" nonetheless. By the end of breakfast, almost all of Gryffindor had placed a bet, ranging from "disappearing in the Forbidden Forest" (a third year Harry didn't know) to "internal bleeding from a double titty-twister" (Lee Jordan) to "power tool accident" (a seventh year who was Muggle-born) to "unicorn horn to the gooch". *A/N- watch Jackass the Movie to understand this last one* Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had outright refused to play, since they took divination very seriously.

Some students from other houses got in on the action as well, but with the understanding that the party would be held in Gryffindor Tower. Padma Patil of Ravenclaw apparently didn't hold Professor Trelawney as high as her twin as she giggled madly while writing "really horrible crab infestation". The predictions got steadily more ridiculous as more bets were placed, mainly due to the fact that after one hundred different ways to die have been guessed, there are just not many plausible causes left. Noticing this, Dean and Seamus decided to give a reward for the most original prediction. The winner would have the honor of the first drink at the party, and all attendees would toast his honor.

"I still can't believe that you assholes are gambling on my death," smirked Harry.

"Well, at least you're forewarned," answered Ron.

"Hey Seamus, how much is the pot up to?" cried Ernie Macmillan from across the Hall.

Seamus held up a hand for silence as he finished counting, afraid of losing his concentration and having to restart his counting. Several tense moments later, he stood up on the table and announced, "168 sickles!" to thunderous cheers. For the rest of the morning, the party was all anyone could talk about. Fred and George Weasley were appointed the official planners, as their ability to nick food and sneak about the castle were legendary. All prefects were sworn to secrecy, Fred and George coming through again by threatening war with their Weasley Wizard Wheezes products.

It was with relatively high spirits that they trudged down to the dungeons for Potions lessons. Something about the walk, whether it was the dank coldness of the dungeons or the sense of foreboding, had always dampened Harry's spirits. There was little difference today. Harry was certain that despite the events of the final month of last term, Snape would be as vindictive as ever. Harry, Ron, and Hermione fond their usual seats near the back of the class as Snape swept into the room looking as foul as ever.

"Silence!" he snapped at the already silent room. "You have your O.W.L.'s at the end of the year and horseplay will not be tolerated this year. I have one year to see to it that all of you are qualified, yes, even you, Longbottom."

It had to be some sort of record. Six seconds into the year's first lesson and Snape was already bullying Neville. Harry knew that Snape had no tolerance for students he deemed "hopeless causes" but always found new was of putting down Neville.

"By now, you should have the basics down," Snape continued, staring hard at Neville again, who was becoming steadily more nervous. "Now I must instruct you in the theory behind potion-making. Why do some potions have more potent results than others? Why ingredients work in one potion but not another. You will need much time in the library. You will need to put more effort forth than you have yet so far. You will need to take that ridiculous hat off in my class, Majere." Xander was wearing a baseball cap backwards, a Muggle style that only seemed to irritate Snape. "A point from Gryffindor for your lack of manners."

"Sorry, sir," said Xander who stopped taking notes to take off his hat, though he didn't sound very sorry.

"Another point. Speak out of turn again and it'll be an even five."

Xander held his hands up to indicate that he was done and resumed taking notes.

"I don't recall telling you my lecture was done. Why are you writing?" snarled Snape.

Xander looked up into Snape's eyes, and Harry couldn't tell if the look read surprise or anger. He set his quill back down on the table and folded his hands, his attitude now unmistakably irritation.

Things didn't improve for Xander as the lesson went on. Snape had set Xander to brewing an immensely complicated poison using venom extracted from a doxy (a fairy-like creature with an extra pair of arms and legs) while the rest of the class watched. Xander unmistakably brewed it to perfection, although that didn't stop Snape from criticizing his techniques. Snape had used a freezing charm on the doxy so that Xander could safely extract the venom. Harry distinctly saw Malfoy point his wand at the doxy and mutter "Finite Incantatum", and the doxy promptly sunk its teeth into Xander's upper arm where his dragonhide gloves offered no protection. Snape chose to ignore Malfoy's actions, though, and even forced Xander to brew the antidote himself. The class (well, the Gryffindors at least) was absolutely stunned that he could brew the antidote with venom coursing through his veins, much less complete it as fast as he did. The bell rang with Xander's face still very green and forcing back a vomiting spell.

"A three foot essay on why a bezoar doesn't work in Majere's antidote and a full summary of possible substitutions, due at the end of the month," said Snape. The class would have groaned loudly if it were anyone else but Snape.

Everyone poured out into the corridor before Snape could add onto his assignment. Malfoy was laughing harder than ever when Xander stumbled into Harry, nearly passing out. The Slytherins felt that the essay was a small price to pay for Malfoy's revenge, and took turns slapping the back of Xander's head as they passed by to accompany whatever insult they could come up with. When Crabbe slapped him particularly hard, Xander swung his arm up, the back of his fist connecting with Crabbe's nose, effectively breaking it. Crabbe's books went flying, his face hit the wall, and his wand rolled beneath his feet tripping him. Snape had exited his chamber and saw Crabbe moaning on the floor.

"What is going on here?" he asked silkily.

"Slipped on his wand and hit the wall," said Xander, pointing to the blood spot nearly six feet above the floor. Snape obviously didn't believe him, but as Crabbe's wand was still stuck to his shoe, all evidence supported Xander's story.

"Hospital wing, Crabbe," said Snape, though his eyes never left Xander. They stared each other down for several moments before Xander put his hat back on (backwards, of course, to add to Snape's ire), and as they were in the corridor and not the classroom, there was nothing that Snape could say. Breathing fire, he walked back into his classroom without a word.

"Bloody hell," muttered Ron. "Twice in two days. I reckon they're trying to get you expelled, mate."

"Course they are," said Xander. The color still hadn't come back to his face, but the grin on his face was contagious. "People fear what they don't understand. They'll need to do better than that, though. I'll gladly beat on them every day if they like."

"You know, I should be taking points off," said Hermione.

Xander cupped Hermione's face in his hand and caressed her cheek. "Tell me it wasn't justified retaliation," he said softly.

"If you had let me finish," she said, though visibly flustered now, "I was going to say that what Malfoy did was worse and Snape's attitude was beyond unfair. I'll talk to Professor McGonagall."

Xander dropped his hand as Harry and Ron sniggered loudly.

"Shut it you two," she said haughtily.

"I gotta go get this bite taken care of. See you at lunch," said Xander. The bite was still bleeding badly and his robes were now sticking to his arm. He peeled them off his bite as he spoke, only causing it to bleed worse. The doxy had ripped off a large chunk of skin when it released its jaws.

By the time they reached the Great Hall for lunch, the story of Xander's second fight had spread like wildfire. He was now reaching minor celebrity status in Gryffindor. Very few students stood up to a Slytherin these days, let alone Malfoy and his cronies. Even Hermione, who had scolded Xander after each incident, admitted a small amount of admiration, though Harry was willing to bet it was because Ron teased her so badly. Katie Bell had to hide Alicia's wand before she cursed Malfoy six days into next week.

"She certainly seems to have taken quite a liking to him," remarked Hermione.

"Who wouldn't?" asked Parvati Patil. "He's confident, smart, and really cute. Even his robes can't hide that fine ass."

"Right," said Ron to Hermione. "Like you didn't enjoy your little conversation with him."

"What's that supposed to mean Ronald?" snapped Hermione.

"You seem to be getting on all right with him. I don't know why you deny you like him," Ron retorted.

The Gryffindor table became quiet as their row escalated, Ron accusing Hermione of lying, Hermione accusing Ron of jealousy. Harry noticed Xander had returned and was standing next to Alicia just before Hermione stormed out, bumping into Xander in her hurry. Ron stomped off in the other direction.

Xander looked questioningly at Harry, who could only shrug his shoulders.

"They should just bone and get it over with," Xander told Harry.

The fifth-years all climbed to the North Tower to attend Divination, all hoping to win the pool. A good portion of the gamblers had also agreed to host the party should they win, though Harry thought they had little chance, as he was highly unlikely to be "crushed by a flying house" as Dennis Creevey was hoping he would be. Ron showed up just in time for the trap door to open, shaking his head at Harry's questioning look.

The classroom was just as boiling as ever with the purple fire blazing in the fireplace even though it was a very warm day outside. There was a chalice sitting on the front table, billowing some sort of smoke. Xander seemed very turned off by it as he walked right up to it to examine it, his nose scrunched up. Taking a cautious smell, his head snapped back violently with a sick look on his face. Professor Trelawney materialized seemingly out of nowhere and noticed Xander examining her smoking concoction.

"Ahhh, yes, I see you've been admiring my chalice," she said in her mystic voice, obviously mistaking the disgusted look on Xander's face. He walked back to where Dean and Seamus were sitting and opened a window. Seamus pulled out his large roll of parchment that had the Death Pool predictions and unrolled it on his desk.

"I've been crystal gazing, my dears, and this potion adds to my euphoric trance," she continued. "It focuses the clairvoyant vibrations of my Inner Eye (Ron could never keep a straight face when she said 'Inner Eye') and allows me to see deeper. This year we will be studying ways to expand our Inner Eyes (more sniggers from Ron) as many of you have yet to develop the ability to See. For those of you who do not have the gift, you will be studying less involved forms of divination, such as Tarot reading, which draw from the aura of the world rather than from oneself." She stopped here as Xander stood up and opened another window, taking a large breath of fresh air.

"Really, now," said Professor Trelawney irritably, "my potion is not that bad."

"Yes, but do you not find it poor judgment to expose your students to it? I'm sure your treatment is over for the day," he said, trying to hide his own annoyance.

"Oh, well, I suppose your right there, dear. This concoction is more for my cataracts than anything," she said, losing her tone quickly. "It has remarkable medicinal purposes as well."

Harry heard Xander mutter, "Medicinal my ass," and the boys laughed under their breath. Professor Trelawney smothered the chalice with and elaborate cap and placed it by a far window before washing her hands.

"Harry, would you be a dear and help me reach the box on the top shelf?" asked Professor Trelawney. "My legs aren't what they used to be."

Harry rolled his eyes behind her back and stood up from his plush chair, where he was in danger of falling fast asleep. Moving slowly to the cabinets, he stubbed his toe hard against a table, cursing loudly.

"Do be careful, dear," admonished Professor Trelawney. "Such and accident could result in an ingrowth of the nail. Someone whose manual lifeline's as short as yours would do well to avoid unnecessary infections."

"Boo-yah!" said Xander, slapping his hand on the table and holding out his fist to Dean. "Gimmie a pound dawg!" ^A/N: remember, according to J.K.'s timeline, it's 1995 in this story and young people still did that back then

Dean looked at Xander like he had earwax leaking from his head.

"Never mind," muttered Xander, who now had the whole class staring at him. He grabbed a quill and began to circle his name many times over on Seamus's parchment.

Professor Trelawney grabbed the box from Harry and began instructing the class on the meaning of each card in the Tarot deck, effectively putting most of the class in a dreary stupor. When she got to the Grim Reaper, she stared pointedly at Harry and the card fell in front of him, though Harry had the suspicion that she dropped it on purpose. Unable to resist, he took out his wand and set the card on fire, smiling up at Professor Trelawney. She looked more than peeved at this, and shot water down on it from her wand before muttering "Reparo". Parvati and Lavender shot evil looks at Harry, but he didn't mind. He was really tired of Trelawney's hints at his early death and hoped this might keep them away for a while.

An hour and a half and yet another extra-long homework assignment later, Harry gathered his books together and prepared to leave.

"At least it wasn't me who pissed off the teacher this time," smirked Xander. He was still in a great mood at having won the Death Pool.

The Divination students had a terrible time trying to exit the classroom, owing to the fact that most of the Gryffindors were huddled around the trap door, awaiting the announcement of the Death Pool winner. Once it was universally known that Xander won, most were now hoping to win "Most Original Prediction" and pestered Seamus to announce the winner of that contest.

"Saturday!" he snapped for what seemed like the hundredth time. "I'll let you know Saturday."

The Gryffindors left for their Common Room, the prospect of an upcoming party brightening the week for all present.