◄✩༄*∗"Do you want a frisbee to the face?"∗*༄✩►
☼
◄✩༄*∗ Drown me (drown me),
you make my heart beat like the rain
Surround me (oh),
hold me deep beneath your waves
And every night my mind is running around her
Thunder's getting louder and louder and louder
Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle
I can't let you go now that I got it
And all I need is to be struck
By your electric love∗*༄✩►
— Electric Love | BØRNS
【 ✧ ☾⋆☼⋆☽ ✧ 】
Y/N SAT, HORRIBLY WORRIED, through dinner, mindlessly eating as her eyes stayed trained on the Great Hall doors. She vaguely heard Hermione and Ron talking but she wasn't listening; Harry still hadn't come back, and Y/N wondered if she should have tried harder to stop him from going after Zabini.
"Will—you—stop—eating!" Hermione said shrilly to Ron, hitting him with her book as Y/N looked down to her robes to see that she had spilled some ketchup on them. She cleared it away with her wand. "Your best friend is missing!"
"Oi!" said Ron, incredulously appalled as he looked past her. "Turn around you lunatic!"
Y/N's gaze snapped up; Harry was walking toward her, covered in blood with a hard look on his face. Y/N's lips thinned. What had he been doing? Why was he always covered in blood?
"Where've you—blimey, what've you done to your face?" said Ron, goggling at him along with everyone else in the vicinity as he took his seat next to Y/N and attempted to kiss her. She pulled away, shaking her head.
"What is it?" he frowned, grabbing a spoon and squinting at his reflection. Y/N pursed her lips. Of course he thought the only reason she wouldn't kiss him was because he had something on his face and not, dunno, the fact that she told him to stop obsessing over Malfoy being a death eater and now was suffering the consequences of sticking his nose in places it shouldn't be?
"You're covered in blood, you tosser," Y/N said, grabbing a napkin and turning his face to her. She began to wipe the blood from his face, her gaze occasionally flicking up to his, only to dart back down to what she was doing as his green eyes steadily watched her. His lips sported a teasing smirk as his hand drifted to her hip, where it rested there out of view and rubbed circles into her skin. "What happened?"
"I'll tell you later," said Harry curtly as Y/N dipped a clean portion of her napkin in a goblet of water and continued to wipe his face.
"But—" said Hermione.
"Not now, Hermione," said Harry, in a darkly significant voice. Y/N rolled her eyes.
"You're such a faker," she muttered and wiped the last spot of blood. "'Not now, Hermione'—"
"Dear?"
"Yes, love?"
"Shut up."
"You've missed the Sorting, anyways," said Hermione, as the food vanished to be replaced with pudding. Ron dived for a large chocolate gateau.
"Hat say anything interesting?" asked Harry, taking a piece of treacle tart.
"More of the same, really . . . advising us all to unite in the face of our enemies, you know," Y/N said boredly, lazily eating a bowl of ice cream.
"Dumbledore mention Voldemort at all?"
"Not yet, but he always saves his proper speech for after the feast, doesn't he? It can't be long now."
"Snape said Hagrid was late for the feast—"
"You've seen Snape? How come?" said Ron between frenzied mouthfuls of gateau.
"Bumped into him," said Harry evasively. Ridiculous twat thinks he's so important, Y/N thought.
"Hagrid was only a few minutes late," said Hermione. "Look, he's waving at you, Harry."
Indeed, Hagrid was waving to Harry next to Professor McGonagall, who was looking disapprovingly at the enthusiastic greeting.
"So what did Professor Slughorn want?" Hermione asked.
"To know what really happened at the Ministry," said Harry.
"Him and everyone else here," sniffed Hermione. "People were interrogating us about it on the train, weren't they, Ron?"
"Yeah," said Ron. "All wanting to know if you really are 'the Chosen One'—"
"There has been much talk on that very subject even amongst the ghosts," interrupted Nearly Headless Nick, inclining his barely connected head toward them so that it wobbled dangerously on its ruff. "I am considered something of a Potter authority; it is widely known that we are friendly. I have assured the spirit community that I will not pester you for information, however. 'Harry Potter knows that he can confide in me with complete confidence,' I told them. 'I would rather die than betray his trust.'"
"That's not saying much, seeing as you're already dead," Ron observed.
"Once again, you show all the sensitivity of a blunt axe," said Nearly Headless Nick in affronted tones, and he rose into the air and glided back toward the far end of the Gryffindor table just as Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.
"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.
"What happened to his hand?" gasped Hermione.
She was not the only one who had noticed. Dumbledore's right hand was as blackened and dead-looking as a burnt potato. Whispers swept the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.
"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now . . . to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you . . ."
"His hand was like that when I saw him over the summer," Harry whispered to Y/N. "I thought he'd have cured it by now, though . . . or Madam Pomfrey would've done."
"It looks as if it's died," said Y/N, with a nauseated expression. "But there are some injuries you can't cure—old curses—and there are poisons without antidotes. . . ."
". . . and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
"Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.
"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn"—Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waistcoated belly casting the table below into shadow—"is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."
"Potions?"
"Potions?"
The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they had heard right.
"Potions?" said Y/N, Ron, and Hermione together, turning to stare at Harry. "But you said—"
"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"No!" said Harry, so loudly that many heads turned in his direction.
"But Harry, you said that Slughorn was going to be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts!" said Hermione.
"I thought he was!" said Harry, frowning deeply.
Snape, who was sitting on Dumbledore's right, did not stand up at the mention of his name; he merely raised a hand in lazy acknowledgment of the applause from the Slytherin table, yet Y/N was sure she could detect a look of triumph on his features.
"Well, there's one good thing," Harry said savagely. "Snape'll be gone by the end of the year."
"What do you mean?" asked Ron.
"That job's jinxed. No one's lasted more than a year. . . . Quirrell actually died doing it. . . . Personally, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed for another death. . . ."
"Harry!" said Y/N, swatting him. He caught her hand, gave her a dark look, and tugged her so close that her side was pressed up next to his. His arm slung around her shoulders lazily and he planted a kiss to her forehead, grinning against her skin as she mildly elbowed him in the stomach.
"He might just go back to teaching Potions at the end of the year," said Ron reasonably. "That Slughorn bloke might not want to stay long-term. Moody didn't."
Dumbledore cleared his throat. Y/N, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not the only ones who had been talking; the whole Hall had erupted in a buzz of conversation at the news that Snape had finally achieved his heart's desire. Seemingly oblivious to the sensational nature of the news he had just imparted, Dumbledore said nothing more about staff appointments, but waited a few seconds to ensure that the silence was absolute before continuing.
"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."
The silence seemed to tauten and strain as Dumbledore spoke.
"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them—in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety."
Dumbledore's blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once more.
"But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"
With the usual deafening scraping noise, the benches were moved back and the hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall toward their dormitories. Harry lagged behind, pretending to retie the lace on his trainer, allowing most of the Gryffindors to draw ahead of him. Hermione had darted ahead to fulfill her prefect's duty of shepherding the first years, but Ron and Y/N remained with Harry.
"What really happened to your nose?" Ron asked, once they were at the very back of the throng pressing out of the Hall, and out of earshot of anyone else.
"Malfoy used Petrificus Totalus on me and stamped my nose in on the train," Harry sneered. "Then covered me with my Invisibility Cloak so I'd go back to London, but Tonks found me and brought me up."
"I saw Malfoy miming something to do with a nose," Ron said darkly.
"Yeah, well, never mind that," said Harry bitterly. "Listen to what he was saying before he found out I was there. . . ."
Harry told them of what he had overheard Malfoy telling Parkinson, Zabini, and Crabbe and Goyle, of a 'special mission' that he was given.
"Come on, Harry, he was just showing off for Parkinson. . . . What kind of mission would You-Know-Who have given him?" said Ron as Y/N scowled. Harry should be obsessing over her, not Malfoy . . . What did Malfoy have to do with anything? He was just a bad person with a superiority complex, as he'd reminded them time and time again. Besides, Y/N didn't want Harry to fall behind his schoolwork just because Malfoy was being a little bit weirder than usual.
"How d'you know Voldemort doesn't need someone at Hogwarts? It wouldn't be the first—"
"I wish yeh'd stop sayin' tha' name, Harry," said a reproachful voice behind them. Y/N looked over her shoulder to see Hagrid shaking his head.
"Dumbledore uses that name," said Harry stubbornly.
"Yeah, well, tha's Dumbledore, innit?" said Hagrid mysteriously. "So how come yeh were late, Harry? I was worried."
"Got held up on the train," said Harry. "Why were you late?"
"I was with Grawp," said Hagrid happily. "Los' track o' the time. He's got a new home up in the mountains now, Dumbledore fixed it—nice big cave. He's much happier than he was in the forest. We were havin' a good chat."
"Really?" said Harry, and Y/N raised a brow. A 'chat', right . . .
"Oh yeah, he's really come on," said Hagrid proudly. "Yeh'll be amazed. I'm thinkin' o' trainin' him up as me assistant."
Ron snorted loudly, but managed to pass it off as a violent sneeze. They were now standing beside the oak front doors.
"Anyway, I'll see yeh tomorrow, firs' lesson's straight after lunch. Come early an' yeh can say hello ter Buck—I mean, Witherwings!"
Raising an arm in cheery farewell, he headed out of the front doors into the darkness.
Harry and Ron looked at each other. Y/N glanced between them, an expectant look on her face as she tried to hold down a smile.
"You're not taking Care of Magical Creatures, are you?" Ron shook his head. "And you're not either, are you?" Harry shook his head too.
"What about you?" Ron asked Y/N, his brows furrowed.
"What do you think?"
". . . No?"
"I kind of have to," Y/N said flatly. Ron stared at her blankly before realizing.
"Right—my bad," he said, staring after Hagrid. "What about Hermione? she's not, is she?"
Y/N shook her head, grimacing.
【 ✧ ☾⋆☼⋆☽ ✧ 】
Harry and Ron met Y/N and Hermione in the common room before breakfast the next morning. Harry lost no time in telling Hermione what he had overheard Malfoy saying on the Hogwarts Express.
"But he was obviously showing off for Parkinson, wasn't he?" interjected Ron quickly, before Hermione could say anything.
"Well," she said uncertainly, "I don't know. . . . It would be like Malfoy to make himself seem more important than he is . . . but that's a big lie to tell. . . ."
"Exactly," said Harry, his hand slipping into Y/N's. She glanced over at him, her eyes dropping to the Captain badge on his robes. He smirked down at her and said mockingly, "Like it, Pix? Does it make you feel a certain way?"
She hummed, apparently deciding.
"It almost did, but not anymore."
"It's rude to point," Ron snapped at a particularly minuscule first-year boy as they joined the queue to climb out of the portrait hole. The boy, who had been muttering something about Harry behind his hand to his friend, promptly turned scarlet and toppled out of the hole in alarm. Ron sniggered. "I love being a sixth-year. And we're going to be getting free time this year. Whole periods when we can just sit up here and relax."
"We're going to need that time for studying, Ron!" said Hermione, as they set off down the corridor.
"Yeah, but not today," said Ron. "Today's going to be a real doss, I reckon."
"Hold it!" said Hermione, throwing out an arm and halting a passing fourth year, who was attempting to push past her with a lime-green disk clutched tightly in his hand. "Fanged Frisbees are banned, hand it over," she told him sternly. The scowling boy handed over the snarling Frisbee, ducked under her arm, and took off after his friends. Ron waited for him to vanish, then tugged the Frisbee from Hermione's grip.
"Excellent, I've always wanted one of these."
Hermione's remonstration was drowned by a loud giggle; Lavender Brown had apparently found Ron's remark highly amusing. She continued to laugh as she passed them, glancing back at Ron over her shoulder. Ron looked rather pleased with himself. Harry and Y/N exchanged glances; Harry was amused, but Y/N was rather unimpressed.
The ceiling of the Great Hall was serenely blue and streaked with frail, wispy clouds, just like the squares of sky visible through the high mullioned windows. While they tucked into porridge and eggs and bacon, Y/N, Harry, and Ron told Hermione about their conversation with Hagrid the previous evening.
"But he can't really think we'd continue Care of Magical Creatures!" she said, looking distressed. "I mean, when has any of us expressed . . . you know . . . any enthusiasm? Other than you, Y/N, but you're going to be a magizoologist."
"That's it, though, innit?" said Ron, swallowing an entire fried egg whole. "We were the ones who made the most effort in classes because we like Hagrid. But he thinks we liked the stupid subject. D'you reckon anyone other than Y/N's going to go on to N.E.W.T.?"
None of them answered; there was no need. They knew perfectly well that nobody in their year would want to continue Care of Magical Creatures. They avoided Hagrid's eye and returned his cheery wave only halfheartedly when he left the staff table ten minutes later.
After they had eaten, they remained in their places, awaiting Professor McGonagall's descent from the staff table. The distribution of class schedules was more complicated than usual this year, for Professor McGonagall needed first to confirm that everybody had achieved the necessary O.W.L. grades to continue with their chosen N.E.W.T.s.
Hermione was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, History of Magic, and Potions, and shot off to a first-period Ancient Runes class without further ado. Neville took a little longer to sort out; his round face was anxious as Professor McGonagall looked down his application and then consulted his O.W.L. results.
"Herbology, fine," she said. "Professor Sprout will be delighted to see you back with an 'Outstanding' O.W.L. And you qualify for Defense Against the Dark Arts with 'Exceeds Expectations.' But the problem is Transfiguration. I'm sorry, Longbottom, but an 'Acceptable' really isn't good enough to continue to N.E.W.T. level. I just don't think you'd be able to cope with the coursework."
Neville hung his head. Professor McGonagall peered at him through her square spectacles.
"Why do you want to continue with Transfiguration, anyway? I've never had the impression that you particularly enjoyed it."
Neville looked miserable and muttered something about "my grandmother wants."
"Hmph," snorted Professor McGonagall. "It's high time your grandmother learned to be proud of the grandson she's got, rather than the one she thinks she ought to have—particularly after what happened at the Ministry."
Neville turned very pink and blinked confusedly; Professor McGonagall had never paid him a compliment before.
"I'm sorry, Longbottom, but I cannot let you into my N.E.W.T. class. I see that you have an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Charms, however—why not try for a N.E.W.T. in Charms?"
"My grandmother thinks Charms is a soft option," mumbled Neville.
"Take Charms," said Professor McGonagall, "and I shall drop Augusta a line reminding her that just because she failed her Charms O.W.L., the subject is not necessarily worthless." Smiling slightly at the look of delighted incredulity on Neville's face, Professor McGonagall tapped a blank schedule with the tip of her wand and handed it, now carrying details of his new classes, to Neville.
"Andilet," Professor McGonagall said curtly, looking down at Y/N, who stared up at her, amused, "you've got all of your qualifications, I see. Be sure to be nice to Hagrid after lunch, all right? Yourself, Hannah Abbott, and Anthony Goldstein remain the only sixth-years taking Care of Magical Creatures this year."
Y/N nodded, feeling awful in her gut as she glanced over to Harry and Ron, who were receiving their schedules. Only three students? She felt horrible for Hagrid. What would she say to him?
Y/N, Harry, and Ron left the table together after Harry and Ron received their schedules—apparently, they would be in the same classes all year.
"Look," said Ron delightedly, gazing at his schedule, "we've got a free period now . . . and a free period after break . . . and after lunch . . . excellent!"
They returned to the common room, which was empty apart from a half dozen seventh years, including Katie Bell, the only other Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.
"I thought you'd get that, well done," she called over, pointing at the Captain's badge on Harry's chest. "Tell me when you call trials!"
"Don't be stupid," said Harry, "you don't need to try out, I've watched you play for five years. . . ."
"You mustn't start off like that," she said warningly. "For all you know, there's someone much better than me out there. Good teams have been ruined before now because Captains just kept playing the old faces, or letting in their friends. . . ."
Ron looked a little uncomfortable and began playing with the Fanged Frisbee Hermione had taken from the fourth-year student. It zoomed around the common room, snarling and attempting to take bites of the tapestry. Crookshanks's yellow eyes followed it and he hissed when it came too close.
"What am I going to say to Hagrid?" Y/N groaned as she and Harry took the unoccupied loveseat in front of the fire. The sunrays cast over them and Y/N studied the dust swirling in it, frowning. Harry's head dropped in her lap and he shrugged, petting Keke, who'd come over to them to jump atop Harry's stomach.
"It's not like there's a lot of people who are going to become Magizoologists," Harry said, scratching Keke behind the ears. Keke purred. "Just tell him that it isn't his fault, that people just aren't brave enough to tame kelpies and are too lazy to care for bowtruckles."
"Wow, you really know your creatures, Potter," Y/N said sarcastically, her fingers skimming through his hair. She closed her eyes, hoping to get a short nap in before class.
"Don't tell him you're required to take his class," said Ron, dropping into the adjacent armchair with his frisbee, seemingly having gotten over his uncomfort. "Else he'll feel like you didn't want to be there."
"Don't worry, Ron," Y/N teased, "I'm not an insensitive axe like you."
Harry muffled his laugh with a cough and Ron held up his fanged frisbee threateningly.
"Do you want a frisbee to the face?"
An hour later they reluctantly left the sunlit common room for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom four floors below. Hermione was already queuing outside, carrying an armful of heavy books and looking put-upon.
"We got so much homework for Runes," she said anxiously, when Y/N, Harry, and Ron joined her. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and I've got to read these by Wednesday!"
"Shame," yawned Ron.
"You wait," she said resentfully. "I bet Snape'll give us loads."
The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.
"Inside," he said.
Snape took the liberty of lecturing them over the Dark Arts and drawling over how their defenses of them must be as "flexible and inventive as the arts they seek to undo". He spoke with a certain arrogance which had Y/N on edge, all until he told them to divide into pairs to work on nonverbal spells.
"Don't worry, dear, I'll go easy on you," Harry said mockingly as they stood and Hermione and Ron paired up.
"Who said I liked it easy?" Y/N muttered, the ghost of a smirk dancing across her lips. "Who said I didn't like it rough and nasty?"
A dark look flashed past Harry's green eyes and his gaze dropped over Y/N, heating her body up as they took a few steps apart and raised their wands.
Y/N attempted, several times, to jinx Harry with her lips pressed together, but nothing came; he did the same, though had the same result as she did. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued around them; many people were merely whispering the Shield Charm incantation instead of saying it aloud. Typically, ten minutes into the lesson Hermione managed to repel Ron's muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single word and Y/N, feeling rather competitive, told Harry to send a jinx at her in hopes that facing the real thing instead of the air would help her.
"Petrificus Totalus," he muttered under his breath, and a shot of bright light hurtled at Y/N.
Protego! she thought, in deep concentration while drawing the wand movement, and to her great surprise, the jinx rebounded off an invisible shield.
"That's my girl," Harry praised, winking at Y/N as she grinned arrogantly. "Now do me."
"Oh, I'll do you all right—" she started, but quieted as Snape swept over to them, lingering to watch.
Y/N attempted to shoot him a jinx, but to her disappointment and unsurprise, she couldn't under Snape's stare.
"Pathetic, Andilet," said Snape, after a while. "Here—let me show you—"
He turned his wand on Harry so fast that Harry had to yell, "Protego!" out loud.
His Shield Charm was so strong Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk. The whole class had looked around and now watched as Snape righted himself, scowling.
"Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?"
"Yes," said Harry stiffly.
"Yes, sir."
"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor."
Several people gasped, including Hermione. Behind Snape, however, Ron, Dean, and Seamus grinned appreciatively. Y/N rolled her eyes, though a smile graced her lips as she suppressed a giggle.
"Detention, Saturday night, my office," said Snape. "I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter . . . not even 'the Chosen One.'"
"That was brilliant, Harry!" chortled Ron, once they were safely on their way to break a short while later.
"Stupid, really," Y/N said, her hand in Harry's as she looked, amused, up at him.
"You really shouldn't have said it," said Hermione, frowning at Ron. "What made you?"
"He tried to jinx me, in case you didn't notice!" fumed Harry. "I had enough of that during those Occlumency lessons! Why doesn't he use another guinea pig for a change? What's Dumbledore playing at, anyway, letting him teach Defense? Did you hear him talking about the Dark Arts? He loves them! All that unfixed, indestructible stuff—"
"Well," said Hermione, "I thought he sounded a bit like you."
"Like me?"
"Yes, when you were telling us what it's like to face Voldemort. You said it wasn't just memorizing a bunch of spells, you said it was just you and your brains and your guts—well, wasn't that what Snape was saying? That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking?"
"Harry! Hey, Harry!"
Y/N and Harry looked around; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year's Gryffindor Quidditch team, was hurrying toward them holding a roll of parchment.
"For you," panted Sloper. "Listen, I heard you're the new Captain. When're you holding trials?"
"I'm not sure yet," said Harry, and Y/N thought Sloper would have had to have been really lucky if he wanted to get onto the team again this year. "I'll let you know."
"Oh, right. I was hoping it'd be this weekend—"
But Harry left Sloper in mid-sentence and hurried away with Y/N, Ron, and Hermione, unrolling the parchment as he went. He read aloud,
Dear Harry,
I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at 8 p.m. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops.
"He enjoys Acid Pops?" said Ron, who was looking perplexed.
"It's the password to get past the gargoyle outside his study," said Harry in a low voice. "Ha! Snape's not going to be pleased. . . . I won't be able to do his detention!"
He, Y/N, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole break speculating on what Dumbledore would teach Harry. Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not know. Hermione said such things were illegal, and thought it much more likely that Dumbledore wanted to teach Harry advanced Defensive magic. Y/N thought it would've been more Voldemort-centered, like the Occlumency lessons he was supposed to have last year.