Hogwarts
(The Whomping Willow sulks in the courtyard, slings strungabout its injured branches. Students hurry inside the greenhouse for the beginning of class)
Greenhouse
(As Y/n, Harry and Ron enter, Seamus, Neville and some of the other Gryffindors hover nearby)
Neville: Detention. On the first day?
Seamus: That must be some kind of record.
Hermione: I should think you'd count yourself lucky that's all you got.
Ron: I should think you'd mind your own business.
Y/n: Stop it.
(Ron and Hermione glare at each other. Professor sprout, a squat little witch, taps her wand on a stack of pots)
Sprout: Welcome to Greenhouse Three, Second Years. Today, we will bere-potting Mandrakes. Now, who here can tell me the properties of the Mandrake? Yes, Miss Granger.
Hermione: Mandrake, or Mandragora, is used to return those who have been transfigured to their original state. It's also quite dangerous. The Mandrake's cry is fatal to anyone who hears it.
Sprout: Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor. As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet. However, they will knock you out for several hours. That is why I have provided each of you with a pair of earmuffs. If you would then...
(Ron frowns. He's gotten a bright pink fluffy pair. When the class is ready, Professor Sprout leads them to the garden area. She grasps one of the tufty plants before her... and pulls. Harry gasps. Instead of roots, a small, muddy, extremely ugly baby pops out of the earth, leaves growing right out of its head. Neville's eyes roll back and he faints. Professor Sprout plunges the bawling creature deep into a pot, removes her earmuffs, and the others follow suit. Everyone save Neville, who lies stretched on the ground)
Sprout: Hm. Looks as though Mr. Longbottom neglected his muffs.
Seamus: No, ma'am. He's just fainted.
Sprout: Very well. We'll just leave him then. Come now. Four to a tray, plenty of pots to go round...
Great Hall
(Percy enters in the company of Penelope Clearwater, just as nearly headless nick glides by)
Penelope: There's Nearly Headless Nick.
Percy: Hello, Sir Nicolas.
Nick: Hello, Percy. Miss Clearwater.
(At the Gryffindor table, Hermione has her nose buried in Gilderoy Lockhart's Travels with Trolls. Ron runs gobs of Spello tape over his broken wand, shakes his head grimly)
Ron: Say it. I'm doomed.
Harry: You're doomed.
Y/n: Completely.
(A light blinds Harry. He blinks, finds a small boy standing before him with a camera)
Colin: Hiya, Harry. I'm Colin Creevey. I'm in Gryffindor too.
Harry: Hello, Colin. Nice to meet-
Colin: They're for my dad- the pictures. He's a milkman, you know, a Muggle, like all our family's been until me. No one knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till we got my letter from Hogwarts. Everyone just thought I was mental.
Ron: Imagine that.
Colin: Say, Harry. D'you think your friend could take a photo of me and you standing together? Ya'know, to prove I've met you?
(Harry glances at Y/n and Ron. Y/n looks positively homicidal. Mercifully, just then, owls stream into the Hall with them is Helios)
Dean: Post is here!
(Helios drops a letter to Y/n. He looks at it and sees the family crest of the Rosier on the letter, he quickly hides it in his robes and gives Helios a piece of meat. One after another, the birds swoop gracefully down, clutching letters from home. All except one, who plops beak-first into Ron's soup. Errol)
Ron: Bloody bird's a menace- Oh... no.
Seamus: Heads up, everyone. Weasley's gotten himself a Howler.
Neville: Go on, Ron. I ignored one from my Gran once... it was horrible.
Y/n: This is gonna be good.
(Ron looks pale. Clutched in Errol's beak is a damp red envelope. Hands shaking, he takes it, opens it, and... Mrs. Weasley's voice thunders, sending plates and spoons rattling)
Mrs. Weasley: RONALD WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR! I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER'S NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME! Oh, and Ginny dear. Congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud.
(Ginny, sitting a bit apart from the others, looks up shyly, then returns to the small black book she's scribbling in. Ron watches the envelope rip itself to pieces, then endures howls of laughter from the other House tables. Colin Creevey snaps a few photos. Harry looks sympathetically at Ron)
Harry: Look at it this way. How much worse can things get?
Y/n: You had to jinx it...
Lockhart's Classroom
(Gilderoy Lockhart paces before the class. Hermione and the girls hang on his every word, while Harry, Y/n and Ron eye the large, covered cage rattling mysteriously on his desk)
Lockhart: Let me introduce you to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher. Me. Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League and five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming-Smile Award- But I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!
(Lockhart awaits laughter. A few students smile weakly)
Lockhart: I see you've all bought a complete set of my books. Well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about. Just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in...
(Lockhart begins to circulate papers. Y/n, Harry and Ron examine the questions. Ron whispers to Y/n and Harry)
Ron: Look at these questions. They're all about him.
Harry: "What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?"
Ron: "What is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?"
Y/n: "When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday and what would his ideal gift be?" This guys is totally self centered.
Lockhart: You have thirty minutes. Start, now!
(As quills begin to dart across pages, Y/n sits with a annoyed look)
-----Time Skip-----
(Lockhart rifles through the completed exams)
Lockhart: Tut, tut. Hardly any of you remembered my favorite color islilac and Mr. Graves didn't even answer the questions. But Miss Hermione Granger knew that my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair care potions. Good girl.
(Hermione beams but at the same time looks at Y/n with a confused look. Lockhart's expression suddenly darkens)
Lockhart: Now... be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourself facing your own worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here...
(With a showman's flair, Lockhart turns slowly to the cage)
Lockhart: I must ask you not to scream. It might provoke them.
(A pale Neville draws back. Y/n, Harry and Ron lean forward. Lockhart lets the tension build, then whips off the cover. Inside the cage are several electric blue creatures. Eight inches tall, with pointed faces and wings, they rattle the bars and pull bizarre faces at the students)
Seamus: Cornish pixies?
Y/n: Why am I here? This is rubbish...
Lockhart: Freshly caught Cornish pixies.
(Unable to control himself, Seamus snorts with laughter)
Lockhart: Laugh if you will, Mr. Finnegan, but pixies can be devilishly tricky little blighters. Let's see what you make of them now!
(Lockhart flings open the cage. Instantly, the pixies rocket about, spraying the students with ink bottles, breaking beakers and shredding books. Two seize Neville by the ears, lift him into the air, and begin to circle the ceiling)
Lockhart: Come on now, round them up, round them up. They're only pixies. Peskipiski Pesternomi!
(The spell has absolutely no effect. A particularly obnoxious pixie makes a face, seizes Lockhart's wand and tosses it out the window. Lockhart joins the stampede to the door)
Lockhart: I'll ask you four to just nip the rest of them back into their cage.
(Slamming the door, he's gone. Y/n, Harry, Ron and Hermione stand blinking. Ron swats a pixie gnawing his ear)
Ron: What do we do now?
(Y/n sighs clearly irritated, he raises his wand)
Y/n: Immobilus.
(The pixies freeze in midair. Neville falls, plops onto Lockhart's desk, shaken but unhurt. He looks at Hermione)
Neville: Why is it always me?
Seventh Floor -- Corridor
(Fresh from the pixies, Y/n, Hermione, Ron, Harry and Neville walk. Hair askew. Robes shredded)
Ron: Can you believe him?
Hermione: I'm sure Professor Lockhart just wanted to give us some hands-on experience.
Harry: Hands on? Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing.
Y/n: He's a total moron.
Hermione: Rubbish. Read his books. You'll see all the amazing things he's done.
Ron: He says he's done.
Gryffindor Common Room
(Y/n is alone in the common room where he took out the letter that was sent to him. He opens it and begins to read it in his mind)
Y/n: 'Lord Grindelwald, we have been looking for potential new high ranking members just as you told us. We found a few potential candidates, but only one of them peaked our interest so we decided to ask you about them. They are really powerful, they could easily overpower some of the high ranking members in your army. The only problem is that they are imprisoned in... Azkaban prison.
Vinda Rosier'
(Y/n frowns deep in thought. He then takes a piece of paper and a quill)
Y/n: 'Vinda. Don't worry about them, I will take a look myself in a few years. You and the others continue to recruit more wizards and witches. Also, do not, send letters to me when I'm in Hogwarts, don't want anyone to figure out who I am. And if you have something really urgent don't put your family crest onto the letter.
Y.G'
(Y/n puts the letter into an envelope)
Y/n: Helios.
(In a burst of fire, Helios appears on his shoulder. Y/n gives him the letter)
Y/n: Please deliver this to her in France.
(Helios makes a noice of agreement and flies out of the window in the room. Y/n watches him fly with a neutral/emotionless look)
Courtyard -- Next Day
(The Gryffindor Quidditch team. Y/n, Harry, Fred, George, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson trail Oliver Wood through the courtyard, toward the distant Quidditch pitch. Several students are outside, studying)
Oliver: I spent the summer devising a whole new Quidditch program. We're going to train earlier, harder, and longer! What the... I don't believe it!
(Crossing the courtyard from the other side are seven boys in green robes, also carrying broomsticks. At their leadis Marcus Flint aka troll face aka piece of shit aka Mr. scare off your girl, Slytherin Captain. Ron, sitting at a table with Hermione, looks up)
Ron: Uh-oh. I smell trouble.
Oliver: Clear out, Flint! I booked the pitch for Gryffindor today.
Flint: Easy, Wood. I've got a note.
(As Wood snatches the parchment from Flint's hand, Ron and Hermione come up to join the others)
Oliver: "I, Professor Severus Snape, dohereby give the Slytherin team permission to practice today, owing to the need to train their new Seeker." You've got a new Seeker? Who?
(A pasty-faced boy pushes to the front. It's... Malfoy)
Harry: Draco?
Draco: That's right.
Y/n: You sure have a lot of faith for a guy who can't even hold a broom right. Winning the matches this year will be a breeze.
Draco: Shut it Graves! Also that's not all that's new this year...
(As one, the seven Slytherins hold out seven brand-new gleaming broomsticks. The Gryffindors look stunned)
Ron: Those are Nimbus Two Thous and Ones.
Flint: A generous gift from Draco's father.
Y/n: 'I knew it. Can't do anything without daddy.'
Draco: That's right, Weasley. You see, unlike some, my father can afford to buy the best.
Hermione: At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent.
Draco: No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood.
(Everyone reacts as if Malfoy has said something horrific... everyone but Harry, who looks puzzled. Y/n's hair covers his eyes and with out anyone seeing takes out his wand, the wands tip glows slightly green but Y/n stops as Fred and George fly for Draco's throat. Oliver Wood holds them back)
Oliver: Save it for the match.
Ron: You'll pay for that one, Malfoy! Eat slugs!
(Ron points his cracked wand at Malfoy. A bolt of green light scissors out the wrong end, hitting Ron himself in the stomach. As he drops to the grass, Y/n and Harry run to him)
Y/n: Hey, Ron. You good?
(Ron opens his mouth and... belches. Y/n and Harry draw back, and watch a trio of slugs dribble out his mouth. The Slytherins crow with laughter. Angrily, Ron rises, only to belch again. Fascinated, Colin Creevey runs up with his camera)
Colin: Wow! Can you hold him still, Y/n?! Harry?!
Harry: Get out of the way, Colin!
Y/n: Let's take him to Hagrid. He'll know what to do.
Hagrid's Hut
(Hagrid rummages about, looking for something)
Hagrid: Got jus' the thing. Set 'im down on that chair o'er there.
(As Ron sits, Hagrid pitches a bucket between his knees. Y/n, Harry and Hermione glance up questioningly. Hagrid shrugs)
Hagrid: Better out than in. Who was he tryin' ter curse anyway?
Harry: Malfoy. He called Hermione, well, I don't know exactly what it means...
Hermione: He called me a Mudblood.
Hagrid: He didn'!
(Harry looks confused. Hermione glances at him, then away, obviously pained by this)
Hermione: It means dirty blood. Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who was Muggle-born. Someone with non-magic parents. Someone... like me. It's not a term one usually hears in civilized conversation.
Hagrid: Yeh see, Harry. There are some wizards like Malfoy's family who think they're better than everyone else 'cause they're what people call pureblood. That's why people like them go and follow people like You-Know-Who and now they follow Grindelwald.
Harry: That's horrible.
(Ron belches forth another slug)
Ron: It's disgusting!
Hagrid: An' it's codswallop ter boot. Dirty blood. There's 'ardly a wizard today that's not half-bloodor less. If we 'adn't married Muggles we'd've died out long ago. Besides, they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can't do... Don' you think on it, Hermione. Don' you think on it fer a minute.
(Y/n looks down slightly conflicted but shakes it off immediately, not letting these things affect his mindset)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
M2, CHAPTER 5 IS DONE :)
----------
Word Count: 2275