73 Chapter 73

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Chapter 48- Eat Slugs!

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It was nearly twenty minutes later that Wood finally finished explaining the board. I had regretted following the two boys here and getting bombarded by such a thing, but I had nothing else on, and I had a feeling something fun would happen. But then, there was another board under that first one and a third under that one. I quickly busied myself with manipulating a rock with my wand and using my magic on it for multiple different transformations as Wood droned on and on.

 "So," said Wood, at long last, jerking me from my experimentation. "Is that clear? Any questions?" Hearing that, I direct the magpie to fly back down to my hand and transform back into the ordinary rock it was before.

"I've got a question, Oliver," said George, who had woken with a start. "Why couldn't you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?" The others laughed at that, but Wood wasn't pleased.

"Now, listen here, you lot," he said, glowering at them all. "We should have won the Quidditch cup last year. We're easily the best team. But unfortunately, owing to circumstances beyond our control- " I watched Harry shift guiltily in his seat. Hmm, I don't know what happened for them to lose last year, but I can surmise that it was Harry's fault, and that probably means he was not able to attend, so maybe he was injured after the Quirrell fiasco and couldn't play. Is that it?

Wood took a moment to regain control of himself. Their last defeat was clearly still torturing him, but he shook it off and didn't allow it to affect his duties. "So this year, we train harder than ever before. Okay, let's go and put our new theories into practice!" Wood shouted, seizing his broomstick and leading the way out to the middle of the Quidditch field. 

Stifflegged and still yawning, his team followed. They had been subjected to Wood's talk for so long that the sun was up completely now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. As Harry walked onto the field, he stopped when somebody suddenly called out to him. "Aren't you finished yet?" called Ron incredulously. I looked over to see him and Hermione in the stands, not actually that far from me. I was so bored that I didn't even notice them come.

"Haven't even started," said Harry, looking jealously at the toast and marmalade Ron and Hermione had brought out of the Great Hall. "Wood's been teaching us new moves." He mounted his broomstick and kicked at the ground, soaring up into the air. I could see him visibly wake up as the cool morning air whipped at his face. He soared right around the stadium at full speed with a big smile on his face, racing Fred and George.

Hearing a clicking noise, I turned my gaze to witness Colin, who was sitting in one of the highest seats, his camera raised, taking picture after picture, the sound strangely magnified in the deserted stadium. "Look this way, Harry! This way!" he cried shrilly.

"Who's that?" I heard Fred ask.

"No idea," Harry lied for some reason, putting on a spurt of speed that took him as far away as possible from Colin. What was the point of lying? Everybody will know about the little fanboy soon since he can't seem to leave Harry alone.

"What's going on?" said Wood, frowning, as he skimmed through the air toward them. "Why's that first year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."

"He's in Gryffindor," said Harry quickly.

"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," said George.

"What makes you say that?" said Wood testily.

"Because they're here in person," said George, pointing. I looked over to see several people in green robes who were walking onto the field, broomsticks in their hands. The sight of them tickled my mind, and I had a weird sense of deja vu as if something was about to happen. But what? Nevertheless, I feel like it is something entertaining.

 "I don't believe it!" Wood hissed in outrage. "I booked the field for today! We'll see about this!" Wood shot toward the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted. Harry, Fred, and George followed, while the others were too caught up in their flying.

"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!" Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had noticed and had landed and came over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team, who stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, all of them leering obnoxiously. "But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. Here, let me read it. I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker."' He finishes with a fox's smile.

"You've got a new Seeker?" said Wood, distracted. "Where?" And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy. Haha, I have to say this kid is really entertaining. His flair for dramatics and performances is brilliant. This kid should be an actor or on the west end.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike. It is obvious, really. I mean, they both have the same femininity and look like they are elves, at least if they had pointed ears. Arrogant elves who look down on others. Seems to fit quite well, actually.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled and looked around at each other with a sense of superiority. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team." All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the word Firebolt, which gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun.

"The very latest model. I am sure you all know about the Firebolt," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "I believe it outstrips the Nimbus series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps-" He smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives. "It sweeps the board with them." None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment.

"And Father got me a special Firebolt." Malfoy walks to the forefront, holding forth and presenting his broom. With flame decals on the end, which looked like literal flames, and I knew that when the broom reached sixty miles an hour, an illusion of flames would surround the broom. "A first edition Flaming Firebolt." Malfoy was smirking so broadly that his cold eyes were reduced to slits. What an idiot. He literally paid ten times the normal amount for fake flames. I am really glad we released the flaming around a month ago.

"Oh, look," said Flint. "A field invasion." He remarked as Ron and Hermione were crossing the grass to see what was going on. Suckers, wouldn't it be great to have an eavesdropping spell like mine so you could listen to whoever the hell you want within a thirty-meter distance.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?" He was looking at Malfoy, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes with disgust. His eyes then focused on the flaming broomstick with intense levels of jealousy.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father bought our team." Ron gaped, open-mouthed, after noticing the other six superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives. I expect a museum would bid for them. You might be able to buy a new wand." The Slytherin team howled with laughter, and everybody automatically turned to see Ron holding his wand, barely held together with spellotape, and they couldn't help but look at him with pity.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply, leaping in to defend her friend. "They got in on pure talent." And he got in by giving me at least ten thousand galleons, so leave the kid alone.

The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat. Oh, oh shit. Okay, I thought it wasn't going to happen after that thing in the courtyard, but it is. Okay, okay. There was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George from jumping on him. Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!" 

Ron rushed forward, pointing his wand at Malfoy, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and had to angle it furiously under Flint's arm to directly point at Malfoy's face. A loud bang echoed around the stadium, and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backwards onto the grass. I am really happy right now but also disappointed that he didn't shout 'eat slugs'.

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Hermione, rushing to his side. Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he gave an almighty belch, and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap. Haha, it fucking happened. Oh my god, that is hilarious and also bloody disgusting. 

The Slytherin team were paralysed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging onto his new broomstick for support. Malfoy was on all fours, banging the ground with his fist. The Gryffindors were gathered around Ron, who kept belching giant, glistening slugs. Nobody seemed to want to touch him. Probably because he's not turning around to direct his mouth to the floor and is just sitting there and looking down at the slugs in his lap in dismay, allowing more to be added to the pile.

They all just stood there, not knowing what to do. The Slytherins laughed, and the Gryffindors wanted to help but were not willing to touch him or help him up. As funny as it was at first, at this point, it is pathetic, and I no longer derive pleasure from seeing him in this state. Honestly, I feel a little bad for him. And clearly, he is going to spend another ten minutes like that before he gets help, so I guess I should go do something about it. Like a teacher would.

"What is going on here?" I say after approaching close enough and removing my notice me not spell. They all jump with a start, turning around to see me close to them with no... notice. All except Ron, who is still staring, traumatised at the slugs crawling all over his lap. I try very hard not to cringe when getting an up-close look at the things. It is hard.

"Ah, professor. What happened was, uhm-" Hermione, being who she was, bolted to her feet as soon as she saw me, leaving Ron's side and trying to explain. But, well, I suppose even she found some difficulty in doing so. After all, even though Ron was the injured party, he was also the one in the wrong. Sure, Malfoy said a bad thing, and if that was all, he would be in trouble. But actions speak louder than words, and Ron drew his wand on him. It is only because his wand is broken that Ron ended up injured and not Malfoy.

"Ah, I think I understand correctly. Given that both the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams are here, I can understand the conflict. And clearly, it was taken a bit too far." I say, looking down at Ron, who is still spitting out slugs. "Alright, come along now, boy. We are going to the infirmary. Filch will just have to clean up the trail of slugs you leave behind." I levitate the boy up as he gurgles something that sounds like no. I guess he would rather the whole student body didn't see him mouth-birthing slugs.

"Nice brooms, kids. I look forward to seeing you play." I can't help but say to the Slytherin team, who all get happy smiles on their faces while the Gryfindors all look nervous. And with that, I turn to leave, heading in the direction of the school with Ron mumbling his denial and Harry and Ron trailing after me.

"Uhh, maybe it would be better to get him to Hagrid's. It's nearest," said Harry and Hermione quickly nodded, and the pair of them pointed the way to me. Well, I suppose it is a long trek back up all the way to Ms. Pomfry, and if I can offload this kid quicker than that, it is good. I nod my head at them, and they lead the way.

"What happened, Harry? What happened? Is he ill? But you can cure him, can't you, Professor Lockhart?" And the little Colin Creeevy showed up, having run down from his seat and was now dancing alongside us as we left the field. Ron gave a tremendous heave, and more slugs dribbled down his front onto the clean-cut grass.

"Oooh," said Colin, fascinated and raising his camera. "Can you hold him still, Professor?" I stopped, shocked at his request. I never thought he would ask me that, and I had to take a moment to digest what he was asking me. And then I manipulated Ron in midair to hand upside down and then gave Colin the thumbs up. And with a click and a flash, Ron's blunder was immortalised forever within Colin Creevey's photo collection.

"Get out of the way, Colin!" said Harry angrily, moving in front of his camera. Hermione quickly moved to grab Harry, fearing he would get a little rough with Colin and then shot a pleading look at me. "Alright, Mr Creevey, off you go. I am sure you have better things to do." I moved on again, levitating Ron out of the stadium, Harry and Hermione leading me across the grounds toward the edge of the forest.

"Nearly there, Ron," said Hermione as the gamekeeper's cabin came into view. "You'll be all right in a minute. Almost there." We walked up to Hagrid's front door. They knocked urgently while I waited behind them, making sure Ron's mouth was pointed away from me. Hagrid appeared at once, looking very grumpy, but his expression brightened when he saw who it was.

"Bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me, come in, come in. What er you doin' here, Professor Lockhar- Blimey, what's wrong with Ron?" Hagrid moved out of the way, and Harry and Hermione held the door open, allowing me to levitate Ron over the threshold into the one-room cabin, which had an enormous bed in one corner, a fire crackling merrily in the other. 

Hagrid didn't seem perturbed by Ron's slug problem, which Harry hastily explained as I lowered Ron into a chair. "Better out than in," he said cheerfully, plunking a large copper basin in front of him. "Get 'em all up, Ron." I shivered at the sound of the slugs thumping into the basin.

"I don't think there's anything to do except wait for it to stop," said Hermione anxiously, watching Ron bend over the basin. "That's a difficult curse to work at the best of times, but with a broken wand-" Honestly, why would they teach such spells. Why not fireballs or water dragons like in Naruto. No, there's a spell to make your opponent spit out slugs.

Hagrid was bustling around making them tea. His boarhound, Fang, was slobbering over Harry. "Alright, I have something to do now. Feel better, kid. I will see you three in your next lesson. Hagrid." Saying so, I leave, nodding my head at Hagrid before doing so. I get a few steps away before hearing them talk and realise that my spell is still active, and I am hearing them inside the cabin.

"Oh, I am glad he is gone. Honestly, I 'member him when he was at school, a nightmare. I tried his book once, and if one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle." Well fuck you too. That is a very unfair thing to say when you don't even know me. However, in this case, he is right on the money. But that was the old Gilderoy. 

Hermione, however, said in a voice somewhat higher than usual, "I think you're being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job!" Well, thank you, Hermione. I appreciate you sticking up for me. Even if it is because of your teacher's worship and adherence to authority and not because you know the actual me. 

"He was the on' man for the job," said Hagrid. I could hear him put a plate on the table, offering them something, while Ron coughed squelchily into his basin. "An' I mean the on' one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now. So tell me," said Hagrid, who then turned his attention to Ron. "Who was he tryin' ter curse?"

"Malfoy called Hermione something. It must've been really bad because everyone went wild." I hear Harry say, but I am not really paying attention, thinking more about what Hagrid had said. "It was bad," said Ron hoarsely. "Malfoy called her `Mudblood,' Hagrid-" It cuts out there since I have walked too far away now.

I hadn't really thought about the curse on the Defence Against The Dark Arts position, and I was not really worried about it. It only comes into effect to try and stop a teacher from staying more than a year, and I am not staying more than a year. So I should be just fine. Nothing to worry about.

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