Bab 130: Year Six - Chapter Three
Guilt was perhaps the strongest emotion one could feel, especially when it came with the acknowledgement that you had, indeed, fucked things up. What followed guilt was also regret, especially because I ended up on the receiving end of a bone-crushing hug that left me without air for a few precious minutes.
"Amanda-" I hissed, "the oxygen must flow."
"You were hospitalized for a week!" Amanda retorted, letting me go and allowing my lungs to fully expand. This exclamation came much to my surprise. I thought this had something to do with the killing, but apparently it was something else entirely. Someone had taken the liberty of writing to my friends about my hospitalization, all things said. "We came to visit, but Professor Snape was standing guard like some kind of evil Dementor."
She then smiled brightly, "But I told him he could take a beater bat up his ass, since I didn't get an Outstanding in Potions, I'm out of his Newt classes!"
I shuddered at that. So that was another reason for Snape's incredible annoyance. "Megan was no fun, though," as Amanda said that, Megan huffed and planted her back against the wall of the train's hallway.
"I got an Outstanding in Potions," Megan said, as if that explained everything. It actually did. "You looked a step away from kicking the bucket when we visited," she added.
Wayne peeked out from the locked door, having in the meantime unlocked it. "I tried to leave you some chocolate, but Professor Snape vanished it."
I sighed, and then chuckled, "A lot of things happened, but now's not the time to talk about that. I'll get my orders from the Head Boy and Girl and then swing by later."
"Try not to get hit by a curse on your way to the Prefect car," Amanda said with a giggle, before giving me a playful punch on the arm and then stepping inside the train car, Megan in tow.
I shook my head and walked the tight confines of the train's corridor all the way to the Prefect car. Certain whispers came towards my ears, but quieted down when I glanced in their directions. I smiled at the sight of a group of nervous first years, ignored the cross looks from some Slytherin that belonged to the wrong crowd, and finally stepped inside the prefect car.
As it turned out, this year's Head Boy was someone I didn't know. A Gryffindor boy who gave us simple enough instructions of keeping the peace and ensuring nothing bad happened on the train, and on the way to the castle.
With such wonderfully precise instructions given, how could we possibly fail at our task?
"Please avoid practicing spells in the train's cars," I said with a pleasant smile to a group of third years with their wands out, trying to put some quick revision in on the way to Hogwarts. "Failed experiments will meet extreme extermination, and successful ones will be annihilated from existence."
Padma giggled at that, even as the terrified third years placed their wands back into their holsters. There was little else for me to do but wonder if they made the younger years always this short, or if my year had particularly tall fellow students.
"I can't wait for Professor Lupin to be back," Padma spoke as we did the rounds, "He was a really good teacher."
I nodded, "We won't risk being cursed seven ways to Sunday at least."
Had we known what terrifying thing awaited us at Hogwarts, our moods wouldn't have risen so high.
Amanda's eyes were wide with terror, her skin pasty white and her expression ashen as her fingers trembled from sheer fear and fright after Dumbledore's announcement. "Unfortunately, Professor Lupin could not attend this year due to a prior obligation, thus on such a short notice, we found a new Potions' Master in Professor Horace Slughorn, and Defense Against the Dark Arts will be taught by Professor Severus Snape."
That had been Dumbledore's announcement, but it hadn't finished there, of course. "Also, Professor Rubeus Hagrid has taken an extended leave and professor Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank will substitute for him."
I quietly glanced at the Headmaster's expression, which looked slightly tight in his words. Our eyes met ever so briefly, and I gave him a brief grin. He turned his gaze away, and with the final, obvious words to the House Elves in the kitchens, food was brought upon the tables.
"I'm dead," Amanda whispered. She looked down at the food. "I'm really dead."
"I wonder," I muttered back. "It must have been a really last-minute thing," I eyed warily towards the professors' table, and to Snape's unwavering expression. My eyes then naturally moved to Harry Potter's corner, where the worried look on his face told me that indeed, he had expected professor Lupin too. Something must have happened in the meantime. Whatever it was, I'd find out soon enough.
But first came food, and doing my utmost best to ignore Amanda's whimpers of fear and fright.
"It's going to be all right," I said amiably. "Professor Snape's a good teacher."
"If he hurts me, are you going to send him to Azkaban too, Shade?" Amanda asked me, hope tinging her voice.
"Probably not," I answered with a serene smile. "He won't hurt you. He's strict, not evil."
"He's horrible, that's what," Amanda whispered back. "Why did I get an Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts? Oh, right, because you taught us. Shade, take responsibility and defend me!"
"You can defend yourself pretty well without my aid, Amanda," I retorted with a snicker. "You have a Beater Bat."
Amanda's sour expression lifted my mood up a lot. What truly made it soar up through the heavens, though, was secretly sneaking down into my Hall of Shadows after ditching a piece of my Prefect Patrol, and witnessing the eagerness of the Draghuls in clattering with their claws on the stone pavement to reach me for a bone-crushing hug. Well, kind-of literally, too, since I had to actually avoid getting turned to mush by their combined weight.
Shadowdrake was more polite, and refined. He was a refined dragon, not a tongue-panting dog-like dragon who wanted head-scratches.
"I hope you've all been good during my absence," I said as I passed them by, doing a mental calculation. "I'm not missing any of you, am I?"
The Draghuls stood at attention, wings closed on their backs. Forming neat rows of two, they swished their tails on the ground, leaving marks that I'd need to polish away with a wave of the wand at a later date.
They were adorable. They were my murder-gargoyles of adorableness.
I actually had to be careful in not channeling Hagrid whenever I tinkered with one of them, because as much as I would have enjoyed giving them toxic breathes or allowing their claws to embed deadly curses within them, I had to keep in mind that it would make them considerably more dangerous to the unwary students who might, or might not, cross their paths.
I had to protect my little adorable dragons, and they, in turn, had to protect the school and myself.
"So, where had I stopped reading?" I muttered as I parsed through the books I had liberated over the course of last year from the school's library, and its forbidden section. It wasn't like it was hard to remove the protective enchantment on those, and since I didn't have another convenient fool like Lockhart, the only way to get a much needed refresher curse on the evils of the enemy was to, indeed, steal some books and ensure they wouldn't end in the wrong hands.
My eyes fell on a thick tome, bound in leather that seemed eerily similar to human skin.
Magick Moste Evile was, ironically, a laugh to read through. It considered the Horcrux so vile as to not mention what was needed to create one, but it didn't shy from revealing certain dark curses to peel the skin off your enemies, or wrench their innards out to form a rope with them.
It was, amusingly, utterly worthless. Sure, there were some curses like the Flagrante one that were interesting to read about, and others which dealt with how to apply dangerous hexes to everyday objects, as well as how to find out whether an enemy was looking at you, or a subordinate was failing you, but for the most part they merely dealt in the realm of delivering pain, shock and despair in the eyes of one's enemy...and would fail against a good enough Protego or Counter-Curse shield.
The Dark Mark, ironically enough, was considered akin to a Protean charm, but done with the flesh of a willing human. The more dark books I read, the more I understood just where Voldemort took his ideas from, and I couldn't help but laugh inwardly at the stupidity of it all.
Still, my eyes moved past the books, and towards the far end of the Hall of Shadows.
There rested my armory of Basilisk fangs transfigured into weapons.
There rested my armors, cloaks and shields.
I couldn't help but smile brightly at the thought that, stolen prophecy or not, if Voldemort dared to try to assault Hogwarts, he'd find me prepared to meet him, and his goons.
After all, I had the greatest advantage over him that he could never deny me.
I was willing to go beyond my pride...
...and ask for help to further my studies.
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