Harry Potter And The Secret Of The Scar

Voldemort surveyed the photograph before him with laconic satisfaction. He turned towards his faithful Death Eater and regarded him with rare approval.

“Well done, Nott. I am glad you did not disappoint me. Let us hope for his sake that Lucius does not let me down. Again.” He emphasized the last word.

Nott bowed perfunctorily.

“ You have the address?” Voldemort inquired, his blood-red eyes returning to the picture in his hand.

Nott reached into his cloak and started to extract a piece of paper.

“Burn it,” said Voldemort quietly.

“Master?”

“I said burn it, Nott. I shall find out for myself.”

“You are sure, master?”

“ I am always sure, Nott,” he said grandiloquently.

The Death Eater nodded hastily and removed his wand. “Incendio.” He muttered. The paper burst into flames.

Voldemort nodded his approval.

* * * * *

In the days to follow, Harry would often feel that it would have been easier to take on a hundred Voldemorts rather than go through one S*P*I*T course.

On the first morning, Harry was roughly shaken awake at around seven-thirty.

“Whassamater?” he said groggily, as he opened his eyes and found himself staring into Hagrid’ s bushy face. It is not always a pleasant experience to wake up and find yourself staring at hair in all visible directions, and the emotion that Harry felt at this wondrous sight can be described mildly as alarm.

After he had gotten over the initial shock, he manage to gobble down a fair bit of the scrumptious breakfast prepared in the kitchens. (Thanks to Dumbledore’s merciful prohibition of Hagrid’s “cooking”) Just as he was draining the last of the pumpkin juice, Hagrid handed him a rectangular piece of paper. It was his timetable. He ran an interested eye through it, and scanned the different subjects. There was Battle Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts taught by Dumbledore and Lupin, Non-magical self-defense taught by Wang Chi – Shi, Sense of A Seer taught by Cassandra Vablatsky, Tactical Transfiguration taught by Norman Gobilheimer, Furious Flying by Gorman Golkavitrov and Stealth Attacking, which was being taught by Sojo Karalee. And right at the end, Battling with Magical Creatures, being taught by Albert Davenport.

“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad,” thought Harry, “even if Voldemort doesn’t kill me, I could have a lot of fun with a certain Mr. Draco Malfoy!” And, with a scheming grin, he walked out of Hagrid’ s cabin for his first lesson.

* * * * *

Battle Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts was the only lesson in which Harry knew the teachers: Dumbledore and Lupin. On the first day, (after an emotional reunion) Lupin confirmed Harry’s suspicions by telling him that Sirius had sent the broom to him for the “Furious Flying” lessons.

During the Battle Magic lessons, Harry learnt a lot of magic that he had never even dreamt of before. There were spells and jinxes with outcomes so horrific that one might have thought them to be the product of some wacky author’s imagination. There was the Epaulian Jinx, which dissolved the shoulder bone, The Ear-Splitting Curse, which stretched a person’s ears apart until they split, and others that cannot be mentioned without bringing out the reader’s lunch. The only way Harry prevented his breakfast from being splattered all over the grounds was by taking special pills from Madam Pomfrey before beginning the lessons.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons taught him how to block the curses and jinxes mentioned above.

* * * * *

Non- magical self-defense was by far the most tiring and time-consuming lesson on the agenda. Every day, for two hours, Professor Wang- Chi-Shi made Harry run, jog, do push ups, practice advanced Yoga techniques, and force his body into ruthless positions. And when after a week, he announced that they were just getting warmed up, Harry had to exercise a lot of self- control not to put The Arctic Curse on Wang Chi-Shi (the curse which freezes one’s internal organs). However, his organs remained ice-free, and for the next four weeks he trained Harry in Karate, Judo, Ju - Jitsu, Kung Fu and a million other forms of self-defense. At the end of this period, Harry’s vindictive emotions ceased, and he had to admit, he felt like a million Galleons.

* * * * *

To Harry’s surprise, the Sense of A Seer lessons didn’t turn out to be the clichéd, boring, lessons he had expected them to be. Cassandra Vablatsky was a veritable goldmine of information concerning Divination, and she and professor Trelawney would have been in the dictionary under “opposite”. Harry made considerable progress, and two weeks later he had sheer, undeniable proof of this. During the lesson, he had a sudden premonition, and it turned out to be true, Hagrid made a surprise tea for him that evening. Harry survived; he had coated his teeth with an Unbreakable Charm earlier that day.

* * * * *

Norman Gobilheimer was a tall, wiry man, and from the first lesson itself it was clear to Harry that he meant business. He taught Harry how to keep himself calm and placid in a crunch situation. (Like he didn’t know how to do that already!), how to reconnoiter his surrounding environment carefully, to decide what to transfigure, when to transfigure and to transfigure into what. For the first half- hour of the lesson, he would devote entirely to theory. For the next hour, he arrange a mock battle, in which he himself would fight against Harry, and they would try to overwhelm each other by transfiguring their surrounding objects. Resourcefulness, he explained, was a critical quality in a conflict.

* * * * *

Furious Flying was the lesson that Harry had the least trouble at. Gorman Golkavitrov simply had to sit back and watch as Harry performed amazing maneuvers on his new Lightning 2002. The broom operated like a dream. He didn’t even have to hold on to it with his hands; it obeyed his thoughts rather than his hands. Only occasionally did the professor have to point out flaws in the way Harry executed the Helsinki Dive or the Battalion Swipe.

* * * * *

Ever since Harry walked into the Stealth Attack class, he had had little doubt that Sojo Karalee was a genius in the true sense of the word. He taught Harry astonishing ways to attack the enemy surreptitiously. He showed him how to mingle with the shadows, how to move without making so much as a decibel of noise, and other things which had to be seen to be believed. It was probably the class he enjoyed the most.

* * * * *

The last class every day was Battling with Magical Creatures at seven in the evening. Ever since Professor Davenport had told Harry in a carefree Australian accent that Hagrid was providing some “fascinating” creatures for the class, he had been filled with a sense of dread, which might have had something to do with the fact that practically every creature Hagrid was interested in (with the exception of Madame Maxime) either had poisonous fangs, breathed fire, had more than the required number of heads or had some possession attached to it which would be a hindrance to normal human beings.

Nevertheless, he emerged death-free from every class, whether it was battling with a Manticore or grappling with a Kelpie in a well. He was glad when he came out unscathed from his last class before the start of the new school year.

Now, he had just one more hurdle to jump over: The Finale. The Finale was a sort of obstacle course all the professors had laid out for him, which would test his prowess in the self-defense that had been bored callously into him in the past month. He sat down with Hagrid to a cheerful dinner. (The Finale would be held at ten that night) Little did he know what lay ahead.

* * * * *

Voldemort let out a smug, satisfied laugh.

Nott said, “Pardon me, master, but may I ask if your amusement is caused as a result of your finding out the… the—victim’s address?”

Voldemort glanced at him. “You are astute, Nott. Sometimes too astute for your own good. But yes, I have found the address.”

“Pardon, master, but will we be taking action tonight?”

“Yes.”

“ A thousand apologies, master, but you are positive that the boy is at Hogwarts?”

“Yes, Nott.” There was something in his voice that sent a shudder down Nott’ s spine.

* * * * *

“So, I take it you understand, Harry?” asked Dumbledore, giving him that penetrating stare which was one of his famous idiosyncrasies.

Harry nodded in comprehension. “ I start into the forest at ten. There will be an obstacle course for me there. I have to get past the course. Hagrid will be waiting on the other side of the forest. When I meet him, I have completed the course.”

Dumbledore smiled. “That is a very accurate précis of the facts, Harry. You do have a knack for abridgement. Why, it reminds me…”

“Er.. shall I go now, Professor?” Harry interpolated quickly.

“Oh, yes, yes. Hold on a second, will you? I have to get something.”

And reaching into his desk drawer, he took out a roll of peppermint.

* * * * *

“Ready,” said Dumbledore looking at his watch. All the other perpetrators of S*P*I*T stood around him. Harry watched him apprehensively, his wand in his pocket.

“Go!” he said.

Harry hurried forward into the Forbidden Forest. As long as he kept straight, he would be out in…

He stiffened. He could hear something making its way towards him on his left. Twigs were snapping loudly, giving the impression that whatever was coming was something big. He pressed himself against a tree. He practically disappeared into the shadows. He could see the outline now…was it a lion? No, the tail looked more like a dragon’s… wait a minute! He knew what it was! It was a Chimaera: a beast with a lions head, goat’s body and a dragon’s tail. It was no use hiding from that, it would sniff him out in a second.

He was right. The beast paused for a moment, sniffed and pounced. Harry dodged it easily. It pounced again. This time Harry leaped into the air, twisted and bought his leg down with tremendous force on the Chimaera’s head. It let out a long howl, stumbled clumsily and then fell flat onto the ground.

“Well, that was easy,” Harry soliloquized, dusting his robes.

He moved onwards, musing what else was in store for him. He was beginning to think that getting through the Finale would be easy. Why…

Suddenly, without warning, a sharp pain shot through his scar. He slumped to the forest floor in agony. It felt as though his head were on fire. His face contorted. He could barely see.

The silence in the woods was abruptly broken by a piercing scream. In spite of his anguish, Harry heard it. There was something familiar about that voice. The person screamed again. Harry wanted to help but he couldn’t. His head was now burning. A blinding flash of green light followed the last scream, and there was a loud bang in the sky above.

And then it was over. Harry’s head was miraculously clear. He glanced upwards, and what he saw made his blood run cold. It was the dark mark. He got to his feet and ran towards the spot where the shrieks had come from.

There was a body lying there. Harry just stood there looking at it, dazed. He didn’t notice when Remus Lupin ran up to him and shook his shoulders, or when Professor Davenport began speaking placidly. No, he didn’t notice, because the body lying there was that of someone whom he knew. The body, was that of Cho Chang. And there was no mistaking it, she was dead.