71 Chapter 71
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Chapter 46- Purposely Unreliable.
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"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," said Hermione, answering Professor Sprout's question and sounding as though she had swallowed the textbook. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state." And they will be used at the end of the year to cure all of the petrified students.
"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"
Hermione's hand narrowly missed Harry's glasses as it shot up again. "The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," she said promptly.
"Precisely. Take another ten points," said Professor Sprout. Damn, Hermione is an earner, twenty points already. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young." She pointed her good hand to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. I also moved over.
A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in colour, were growing there in rows. They looked pretty unremarkable to the eye, and anyone who didn't have the slightest idea what Hermione meant by the 'cry' of the Mandrake wouldn't think anything of them.
"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout. There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy. I'm not proud of it, but I pretty much snatched a black pair from Longbottom. The boy was too confused to make a fuss and grabbed a pink pair. I wasn't bothered by the colour, but I was just worried there would not be enough earmuffs. I'd rather one of them get deafened than me.
"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right - earmuffs on." Everybody snapped the earmuffs over his ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears and then gestured to me and then told me what to do. Seeing the indication, I rolled up the sleeves of my robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.
I let out a gasp of surprise that no one could hear because of the sheer vibration in my palm. Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.
Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and put it on the table, and motioned me towards it. I lunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in the dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. I quickly dusted off my hands as Professor Sprout gave all the students the thumbs-up and removed her own earmuffs. Myself and the students promptly followed suit.
"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," She said calmly, as though what had just been done was nothing more exciting than watering a begonia. "However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up."
"Four to a tray. There is a large supply of pots here; compost in the sacks over there, and be careful of the Venemous Tentacula. It's teething." She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.
I didn't really have anything to do, but Pomona might still need my help, so I stuck around, and I watched as the students got to work. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were joined at their tray by a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy. "Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said brightly, shaking Harry by the hand.
"Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter. And you're Hermione Granger, always top in everything." Hermione beamed as she had her hand shaken, too. "And Ron Weasley. Wasn't that your flying car?" Ron didn't smile. The Howler was obviously still on his mind.
"That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" said Justin happily as they began filling their plant pots with dragon dung compost. My ears perked up, hearing my name mentioned. "Awfully brave chap. Have you read his books? I'd have died of fear if I'd been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and, zap, just fantastic. He also paid for all our wands." He begins, talking about me but somehow sounding pompous.
"My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books, I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family..." What the hell is Eton? Why have I never heard of it? I'm guessing it is some kind of school.
After that slight bit of interaction, they all got to work, so they didn't have much chance to talk. Their earmuffs were back on, and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Apparently, I had made it look extremely easy because they didn't look too fussed when trying to pull the Mandrakes out themselves. Unlike me, who was an adult, they were not prepared for the vibrations and found the whole process much more difficult.
The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth but didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth. I watched Harry spend ten whole minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into a pot.
By the end of the class, Unlike me, who was still squeaky clean, everyone else was sweaty, aching, and covered in earth. Pomona ended the lesson quickly, leaving to get some medical attention, while all the students planned on traipsing back to the castle for a quick wash before heading to their next class. I was quite offended at the notion. These guys are wizards, are they not?
"Alright, for those of you who don't want to go and hike back to the castle to clean yourselves, line up in front of me. I'll take care of you." It is only a moment after the words have left my mouth that I feel an internal cringe, but I don't allow it to show on my face. That could be taken wildly out of context, or at least I feel a bit weird offering to bathe a bunch of kids. I just want to use a spell on them, the same magic I cleaned myself up with.
The students quickly lined up, the female ones being first, trusting me implicitly for some reason. Just because I wrote a few books, I will never understand the female mind, even when I can read it. One by one, I tapped the students on the head, my magic cleansing them from head to toe, including their clothes. I had a lot of experience doing this on Digby.
Soon, all the students were gone except one, that being Harry Potter, with Hermione and Ron waiting on the side for him. Once I used my spell on him, he wanted to leave and join Ron and Hermione, but I quickly shot my hand out to stop him. I don't know why I keep talking to this kid. I said I would keep my nose out and try to stick to cannon as much as possible, but I also seemed to be interjecting myself in wherever possible, unable to contain my curiosity. I need to resolve this somehow.
"Harry! I've been wanting a word - you don't mind going ahead without him, do you, you two?" Judging by the look on Ron's face, he very much did mind, but Hermione, ever the teacher pleaser, rolled her eyes at him and dragged him away out of the greenhouse. "That's the ticket," I flicked my wand and closed the greenhouse door behind the both of them.
"Harry," I said, making sure to subtly apply my magic to make my large white teeth gleam in the sunlight as I shook his head. "Harry, Harry, Harry." Completely nonplussed, Harry said nothing. Good, I realised that I was making myself too competent and reliable in this kid's eyes, and he needs to have the opposite opinion for things to go the right way. Of course, I didn't want to ruin my image in front of the whole school.
Which is why I have separated him from the rest of the herd, and now that I have him alone, I am going to make sure that he will not see me as someone he can turn to for help. It is time to bring out that Gilderoy Lockhart charm. And by that, I mean I will be letting loose the arrogant, narcissistic egotist I keep chained up and controlled inside my head.
"When I had a chance to think on it last night- well, of course, it was all my fault. Could have kicked myself." I could tell Harry had no idea what I was talking about. Good, never let them know your next move. Just when he was about to open his mouth, I carried on, "Don't know when I've been more shocked. Flying a car to Hogwarts! Well, of course, I knew at once why you'd done it. Stood out a mile. Harry, Harry, Harry." Let's taint that image in his head.
"Gave you a taste for publicity, didn't I?" I said. "Gave you the bug. You got onto the front page of the paper with me, and you couldn't wait to do it again." Make myself seem fame-obsessed. An opportunist and a user, someone he would definitely not want to associate with.
"Oh, no, Professor, see-" He tries to explain himself, but I don't give him a chance. I run him over.
"Harry, Harry, Harry," I continued, reaching out and grasping his shoulder.
"I understand. It's natural to want a bit more once you've had that first taste. And I blame myself for giving you that because it was bound to go to your head. But see here, young man, you can't start flying cars to try and get yourself noticed. Just calm down, all right? Plenty of time for all that when you're older. Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking! It's all right for him. He's an internationally famous wizard already! But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, I'd say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven't they? All that business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" I glanced very obviously at the lightning scar on Harry's forehead.
"I know, I know - it's not quite as good as winning Witch Weekly's Most Charming-Smile Award five times in a row as I have. But it's a start, Harry, it's a start." I gave Harry a hearty wink and then motioned for him to leave. Harry stood stunned for a few seconds, then, remembering he was supposed to be going to his next lesson, he opened the greenhouse door and slid outside.
Well, I think that worked. What to do now? I have some time to kill until I have to teach.
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Professor McGonagall's classes were always hard work, but today was especially difficult. Everything Harry had learned last year seemed to have leaked out of his head during the summer. Also, he was still a bit frazzled by the weird talk he had with Lockhart. He was supposed to be turning a beetle into a button, but all he managed to do was give his beetle a lot of exercise as it scuttled over the desktop, avoiding his wand.
Ron was having far worse problems. He had patched up his wand with some borrowed Spellotape, but it seemed to be damaged beyond repair. It kept crackling and sparking at odd moments, and every time Ron tried to transfigure his beetle, it engulfed him in thick grey smoke that smelled of rotten eggs. Unable to see what he was doing, Ron accidentally squashed his beetle with his elbow and had to ask for a new one. Professor McGonagall wasn't pleased.
Harry was relieved to hear the lunch bell. His brain felt like a wrung sponge. Everyone filed out of the classroom except him and Ron, who was whacking his wand furiously on the desk. "Stupid, useless thing!"
"Write home for another one," Harry suggested as the wand let off a volley of bangs like a firecracker.
"Oh, yeah, and get another Howler back," said Ron, stuffing the now hissing wand into his bag. "I can already hear it. It's your own fault your wand got snapped! Not to mention, this was the one I got free from Lockhart! Mum will go mad! And I will get an old shoddy one from home, which is just as bad as this." They went down to lunch, where Ron's mood was not improved by Hermione's showing them the handful of perfect coat buttons she had produced in Transfiguration.
"What've we got this afternoon?" said Harry, hastily changing the subject.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once.
"Why," Demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?" Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously.
They finished lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard. Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in Voyages with Vampires again. Weirdly enough, she had another older-looking copy with her and continuously looked between the two, comparing. Harry and Ron stood talking about Quidditch for several minutes before Harry became aware that he was being closely watched.
Looking up, he saw the very small, mousy-haired boy he'd seen trying on the Sorting Hat last night, staring at Harry as though transfixed. He was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment Harry looked at him, he went bright red.
"All right, Harry? I'm- I am Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor, too. Do you think... would it be all right if- can I have a picture?" he said, raising the camera hopefully.
"A picture?" Harry repeated blankly.
"So I can prove I've met you," said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forward. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead." His eyes went to Harry's hairline with a look of awe. "and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures will move."
Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman. He couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you." He looked imploringly at Harry, his eyes ridiculously wide. "Maybe your friend could take it, and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?" He asks, hope in his voice.
"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?" Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy's voice echoed around the courtyard. He had stopped right behind Colin, flanked, as he always was at Hogwarts, by his large and thuggish cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.
"Everyone line up!" Malfoy roared to the crowd. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"
"No, I'm not," said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. His mind travelled to what Lockhart had said earlier. "Shut up, Malfoy."
"You're just jealous," piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe's neck.
"Jealous?" said Malfoy, who didn't need to shout anymore since half the courtyard was listening in. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself." Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly.
"Eat slugs, Malfoy," said Ron angrily. Crabbe stopped laughing and started rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way.
"Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy. "You don't want to start any trouble, or your Mommy will have to come and take you away from school." He put on a shrill, piercing voice. "If you put another toe out of line!" A knot of Slytherin fifth-years nearby laughed loudly at this.
"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter," smirked Malfoy. "It'd be worth more than his family's whole house!" Ron whipped out his Spellotaped wand, but Hermione shut Voyages with Vampires with a snap and whispered, "Look out!"
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