(A/N: This is the shortest chapter yet, though I shouldn't really call it a chapter. There was going to be one, single, massive chapter, but I split it up in two; so this is really only the first half. Its approx. 7000 words long, and frankly a bit of it is simply restating what happening at the end of chp 6. And thanks to Eschiva; whose work has managed to make the grammar in this fanfic coherent!
Chapters 7 and 8 will be the pinnacle of Gates's abuse of control; so you can pretty much expect the worst.
Here is chapter 7:
The next morning Harry awoke with a mild headache. He had not been dreaming, but he guessed vaguely that it was a result of the apprehension that rolled around his mind like a smooth rock. Gates's threats and promises had not been lost on him, and a small sense of dread wrapped itself around his stomach like a snake; its coils settling in his gut.
More and more, his thoughts turned to Sirius's third favor; his subtle request that Snape be 'humiliated'. Although he had little concern for Snape's welfare, he wanted someone else besides himself to know what Gates will eventually be up to. What happens to the potion master is not his concern; Snape has his fate and Harry has his. If Snape ended up badly beaten, however, Harry would be rather satisfied. A fleeting image of Snape arguing with Sirius in Grimmauld Place over Occlumency lessons flashed into his mind, but he quickly repressed it. Snape would get what he deserves, and he will not earn Harry's pity at all.
Deciding to owl Lupin the first chance he got, Harry leapt out of bed and, after throwing on his robes, lightly stepped down the spiral stairs and out the portrait hole. Breakfast was likely already being served, so he continued straight towards the great hall, barely aware of Gates's presence behind him. The usual uneasiness that surrounded Gates was no different today; students stalwartly avoiding Harry as though he carried some strange disease; throngs of people parting like schools of fish. They sometimes offered a brief nod or wave before vanishing around a corner, but more often than not Harry ignored them. Right now, his only real friends were in the Defense Association.
He absently felt the galleon in his pocket, pleased that he had scheduled a D.A. meeting for this evening after Quidditch; about eight o'clock. Last night before he went to bed, he decided that he would teach them some stunning spells again; as they had probably forgotten or fallen out of practice over the summer. Then, if all went well, he would work on Patronuses with them the next meeting. Most likely, many of them will want to learn more advanced curses and hexes for the Dueling Club this year; the tournament will commence this November. Sometime, he told himself, he would organize a lesson so that they could practice full duels against each other.
Entering the great hall, he quickly spied Hermione, Ron, and Neville all sitting together at the end of the Gryffindor table. Luna stood nearby, swaying back and forth slowly as she continued her conversation with Ron. He took a seat next to Hermione, helped himself to a helping of pancakes and then quickly glanced around him, feeling slightly unnerved for some reason. Luna was studying him carefully with a resigned stare; Hermione was grinning as she completed an Arithmancy assignment; and Gates had his eyes locked fixedly on Ron's face, as though trying to penetrate his skin with a piercing gaze.
"Mate, look over here for a second," Harry said, flitting his hand furtively towards Gates, and Ron picked up the gesture immediately.
Ron nodded his head and shifted in his seat so Gates could not get a clear view of him. "I really wish he'd stop doing that. It's starting to get annoying."
Neville's interest perked up. "Doing what?"
"Occlumency," said Harry, "Sort of like mind reading."
Neville's lips formed a silent "oh", as in realization, and he fell silent.
"I heard you two got caught by Snape," said Ron casually, as though this was something to be expected, "Got caught twice, in fact. How did you manage that?"
Harry noted Ron's suppressed laughter and answered. "Yeah, well, it was Gates's fault we got caught the second time. Apparently he went and got Snape after we locked him out of the kitchens."
Ron snorted into his food. "What?"
"Didn't Hermione tell you guys yet?" Harry asked, quizzically glancing at Hermione.
"No, she claimed you would be the better story teller; but more likely she couldn't be bothered to stray from her schoolwork, as usual."
"There really isn't much to tell," Harry said, "Me and Hermione managed to close the kitchen door on him, and he couldn't figure out how to get in. He stalked away positively raving. Anyway, Dobby gave us a tour of the kitchens and after that Snape and Gates came barging in. Gates took me aside while Hermione went with Snape; he probably hoped Gates would tear me apart."
Ron dropped his fork. "Did he?"
"No," Harry said flatly, "He threatened and warned me, but didn't, say, throw me against the wall or anything. He just told me that I would be suffering for this, and that the punishment would come later. Somehow, I think I would have preferred a plain beating. This psychological stuff is subtle to the point of pain."
"Don't say that," Hermione chided, her eyes still set on her book, "Though you did humiliate him rather badly. Gates was still excessive with his punishment, however; threatening the person he supposed to guard. Honestly."
Harry frowned. "What do you mean I humiliated him? I just locked him outside the kitchens. He didn't even suffer any of pain from the magical bond..." he paused, "...Which doesn't make any sense."
Hermione put down her quill and turned to him, her intellectual side clearly surfacing. "In order for him to get through the door, Gates had to ask Professor Snape for help. He had to acknowledge failure. And considering that Snape and him aren't exactly the best of friends, Gates was all the more disgraced. You see? The man is so arrogant that asking for help would deal a severe blow to his ego. That's how you humiliated him, albeit unknowingly."
"And what about him escaping the magical bond's punishment?"
"That's a little more tricky to explain, since magical bonds are rather complicated to begin with," she began, taking in a deep breath, "I'd imagine that since you were the one who locked him out, the bond registered that as your fault rather than his. Really, though, the magical bond's punishment is so infinitesimally short, you probably wouldn't even be aware about it. Gates wouldn't have enough time to even react to the pain. It will feel like an eternity of torment to him, however."
"But what about the time when Ron had one of his fits? Wasn't the magical bond hindering Gates's reaction time? I don't get any of this magical bond stuff…" Harry said exasperatedly.
"But that wasn't your fault, Harry, and it only delayed him for a fraction of a second," Hermione interrupted, "And that makes all the difference. Like I said, magical bonds are complex and vary considerably with the wizard who's affected by them. You can rarely predict precisely how a magical bond will react to anything, but most follow simple lines of logic. If the wizard in question feels that he is at fault, even if its at the subconscious level, the magical bond will function appropriately. If he fails his task, the magical bond will overcharge his mind and shut it down; resulting in his death. Therefore, he cannot kill you, Harry, without killing himself. You will be learning all about magical bonds in seventh year Charms." She returned to her work.
"Ah, I see," Ron said with feigned sagacity, "Yes it is very clear."
Hermione cast him a scathing glare.
"So what happened next?" said Ron, ignoring Hermione.
"Afterwards Snape came in and told me he docked forty points from Gryffindor and that I will be having detentions every Thursday for a month; more or less a cover for Occlumency."
Ron eyed him skeptically. "He let you off that easy? For him, that's a slap on the wrist."
"Maybe he figured Gates would have something more sinister in mind..." Harry paused as another thought entered his mind. "What did Snape say to you Hermione?"
"He reported me to Professor McGonagall," said Hermione, anxiety entering her voice, "I don't know what she is going to do yet. She told me that she will decide my punishment tonight; and whether I will keep my prefect status."
"What?!" said Ron incredulously, "She can't be serious!"
Hermione nodded sadly. "She told me she was very disappointed that I ignored Professor Snape and went to the kitchens anyway."
"But did you tell her it was me?" Harry said quickly, "I was the one who got you to go."
"I am a prefect; I should know better. It was my fault." said Hermione with finality.
Unable to come up with a decent response, Harry watched Gates standing alone across the great hall, hating him. Why does he always have to be a git? He could've just waited.
"The galleons had their dates changed," Luna's voice drifted into his mind and broke him out of his reverie. She was steering the conversation out of tense territory. "I take it we have a meeting tonight?"
"Yeah," Harry said, taking his eyes off of Gates, "At least to get a sense of what roster we have left and a measure of our skills."
"But it won't interfere with Quidditch, will it?" Ron asked slowly.
"'Course not," said Harry, "It'll be after Quidditch practice, so don't worry about it. I have it all planned out."
Ron looked unconvinced. "Well as long as you remember the, err, priorities. With these schedules you're coming out with..." His voice trailed off into a faint string of mumblings.
"Any ideas on who can replace the people we lost this year?"
"Well let's see," Ron said, beginning to count off positions with his fingers, "We need to replace Fred...George...Angelina...Katie…Ginny can play chaser…so two beaters and two chasers. Unless, of course, we want to keep the people we had to use last year. I reckon that anyone who wants to tryout will show up tonight, right?"
"I'd imagine..." Harry's thoughts wandered off into this evening's Quidditch practice. He would probably be out of shape, rusty, and a bit slow. Still, the promise of being able to fly and dance across the sky on his Firebolt lifted his spirits above the brooding fear of Gates's threats. For the first time since last year, since Umbridge banned him from Quidditch, he would be flying again. The Thestrals did not really count.
"Oooo, it looks like Draco is upset about receiving those extra detentions..."said Luna vaguely, gazing towards the Slytherin table. Malfoy was sulking and shooting angry glances at the staff table; particularly at Snape.
"Wait, you two caught up with Malfoy too?" said Ron, "How did Luna know?"
"Hermione mentioned it in the common room this morning," Luna said.
Ron scowled. "So Luna was told the whole story and I wasn't?"
"Oh, you'll live," Hermione said, "I wasn't busy at the moment. Maybe if you got up earlier, you would've been told the entire story as well. I don't have time to repeat it for everyone, you know."
Wanting to stop the imminent row, Harry quickly cut in. "We ran into Malfoy on the way down. He was just being his usual git self and insulting Hermione when Snape came up from behind him and docked some points from Slytherin. He also got another detention."
"Maybe Snape is taking his oath about being nicer seriously..." said Ron thoughtfully, his eyes resting on the greasy-haired Potions master at the staff table.
"Father always said Professor Snape was lost," Luna said dreamily, apparently unaware that her statement held little meaning to any of them.
Their discussion of Snape reminded Harry of another errand he needed to complete. Pulling out a quill and a piece of parchment, He laid it flat on the table and began to write a message to Lupin, relating everything concerning Sirius's third favor and the necklace and bracelet; including his own private thoughts concerning the necklace's possible connections with Voldemort.
When he finished, he quickly reread it and filled in whatever details he missed. Tucking the letter in the folds of his robe, he stood up and said, "I'm going to send off a letter to Lupin about, well, Sirius's third favor…among other things." He added cryptically.
"What for?" Ron said, not looking up from his food, "I hope Snape gets his; he had it coming for ages. As for the other, err, stuff, you could just tell Dumbledore about that."
"Someone should know," said Harry, "And Lupin would know what to do." In actuality, he felt that Lupin was the last of his family; the last of the Marauders.
"And Professor Dumbledore?"
Harry's turned and his eyes met Gates's gaze, which bored into him. Suddenly, he remembered with cold irritation Dumbledore's decision to damn him for another year with Snape's Occlumency lessons in the dungeons; and his absolute refusal to do anything about Gates. He knew it was illogical, but he said "I'll tell him later."
Hermione looked slightly put out by his response. "Don't you think you should tell Professor Snape?" she said quietly.
"Well," Harry found himself seriously considering the possibility. "I suppose I will." he said uncertainly, rubbing his chin.
An isolated part of him shouted: You'll tell Snape but not Dumbledore? Have you lost your mind? Harry, however, ignored it.
Wanting to send the message before the first classes began, Harry strode over to the stone stairway that led to the owlery, thinking absently of telling Snape of his danger.
Snape was a git, there is no denying it, but he needs to be warned. Gates probably interpreted 'humiliate' for 'destroy' he thought to himself.
As he climbed higher and higher into the tower, the wide, spacious windows narrowed into thin slits; spilling narrow beams of light across the floor. Passing one window, he saw an inviting green Quidditch field with endless blue skies and a sun muted behind a cloud; perfect for preventing sunlight from blinding the players with light. It promised to be a beautiful day; especially with the prime Quidditch conditions.
The dream quickly left his mind when he entered the dim owlery; with the pungent stench of hundreds of birds living together. Skeletons of small animals picked clean of their flesh littered the stone floor, which was matted with years of straw and owl droppings. Feathers seemed to rise up in a flurry at the slightest gust of wind, causing Harry to sneeze several times. Finally finding the pure white figure of Hedwig, he called her down and attached the message to her leg.
"Send this to Lupin," he said, stroking her back, "I don't know where he is right now, but find him okay?"
Hedwig hooted and flew away, attracting the squawks of a few disgruntled eagles and hawks in the higher rafters. When Harry saw her soar through the top window below the vaulted ceiling, he lowered his gaze and turned to leave. Standing at the entrance of the owlery, inevitably, was Gates.
"What did you send?" Gates said evenly.
Harry shrugged him off. "I just sent a letter to a friend; its for a school essay."
"I daresay it is," Gates drawled, "But tell me-" He drew a long, blank piece of parchment out from his scarlet robe. "-do you know what this is?"
Harry's stomach dropped. It was the Marauder's Map. "I don't think so." he lied.
Gates tilted his head and leered. "Don't bother lying, Potter, I already know what this is-" He tapped the map forcefully with his wand. "It's the Marauder's Map, correct? Of course it is. I found it among your luggage yesterday night."
"So you've been going through my things, have you?"
"I decided I should have that right after you pilfered through my coat last week…" said Gates, "Regardless, since yesterday I have decided that I am going to need a tool to keep a better eye on you. Especially since you have that rather extravagant invisibility cloak." He lifted the parchment towards his face to examine it more closely. The sunlight made the old paper glow brightly.
"And you know how to use it?" Harry asked skeptically.
Gates lowered the map. "Oh yes, I do. Sirius shared many secrets with me during our time here. His friends, however, weren't as trusting. He managed to keep the most important secrets from me, unfortunately…" he added with a spike of bitterness.
"Which were?"
Gates's head jerked up. "Nothing," he said sharply, "I will be keeping this, so do not try to play any of your silly games with me. You can't hide from me now." He shook the map for emphasis.
Harry said nothing, feeling quite furious. It had little to do with the fact that Gates had taken something of his, but more to do with the map's previous owners. Every relic that he possessed of his parents and Sirius was treasured more than even his Firebolt. He would not give Gates the satisfaction of knowing that, however.
"Fine, take it." Harry said shortly, feigning indifference and concluding the exchange.
As Harry walked away, he could feel Gates's eyes piercing into him. Ignoring them, he strode down the stairs and proceeded to the great hall, hoping to intercept Snape after breakfast. For the past several days, he intently contemplated Sirius's reasoning behind the request for Snape's punishment. There was no doubt Sirius loathed Snape, but was it enough to order an attack on him?
Harry could only arrive at one conclusion. Sirius, while writing his final wishes, wanted revenge on Snape for the incident at Grimmauld Place, as well as kicking Harry out of his office when he should have been teaching him Occlumency. Dumbledore had said that Sirius was not one to let words get to him, but Harry was not so sure. During his last few months in Grimmauld Place, Sirius changed; became another man. A man that did not think things through entirely; though Harry did not blame him for it.
Truthfully, Harry forgave Sirius for assigning Gates to protect him; Sirius had no idea what Gates became. Sirius's intentions were pure, but, Harry knew all too well, pure intentions did not guarantee pure results. He could not be angry with Sirius without being furious at himself. As Sirius made an error in judgment in hiring Gates, Harry made a blunder when he charged blindly into the Department of Mysteries. Nothing could be rectified now, so Harry simply remembered Sirius's advice: Never forget anything, and never regret.
Finally, Harry caught Snape as he left the staff table in the great hall. The head of house Slytherin had just finished his sparse breakfast and was already halfway across the great hall when Harry called his name. Snape whirled around, his eyes examining Harry closely. From across the room, Gates stared at them curiously.
"Well," said Snape impatiently, "What is it Potter? You're punishment from last night stands. Consider yourself fortunate I wasn't in a more severe mood."
"That's not what this is about, sir." Harry said quickly, hoping to curry some tolerance so Snape would listen to what he had to say.
Snape tilted his head. "Yes?"
"I found something in Alex's cloak, sir, I found out what Sirius's third favor is." Harry explained briefly the bond between Gates and himself and Sirius's three requests. When he finished, the Potion's master looked quite stunned. He was about to tell Snape the precise wording of Sirius's third wish when he was interrupted.
"This is all very interesting Potter," interjected Snape slowly, his lip curling, "Especially the part where you just confessed to trespassing on another's property. Unfortunately, I do not see the relevance. While you may have time to waste relating all this useless information, I'm afraid I have no such luxury."
Harry restrained himself from lashing out. "I'm getting to that, sir," he said with bitter contempt. I'm doing this for his own damned good. "Sirius wants you to be humiliated by Gates." He fell silent, waiting for Snape's reaction.
"I see," Snape said softly, his face paling as he turned towards Gates, "I see Sirius reaches out even from the grave. So now he gets his old school friend to do what he couldn't. Never ceases to amaze me…"
"What are you going to do?" Harry blurted out.
Snape's head whipped back towards Harry in a flash. "Nothing," Snape said, his eyes glinting dangerously, "I refuse to be drawn into petty rivalries. Alexander would never outright attack anyone outside of a fair duel. Not without being provoked."
Harry contemplated the irony of Snape's response. This coming from a man who has never dropped the schoolyard grudges with the Marauders.
"And why are you telling me this, Potter?" Harry suddenly found himself being studied intensely by Snape's black eyes; the eyes that so very much reminded Harry of dark tunnels.
"I, well," Harry stammered. There was no reason, he discovered, except that Hermione had asked him too. Then, an excuse presented itself. "Because no one should be attacked from behind, sir. And you're in the Order."
Snape snorted. "How very noble and idealistic. Get out of here, Potter, I am quite confident in my abilities." He strode away, leaving Harry standing awkwardly in the middle of the empty hall.
"Last time I bother to help him out," Harry muttered, "Not that he'll have much of a chance against Gates."
Harry strode out of the great hall, finding Ron and Hermione waiting for him shortly outside of it. While Harry and Hermione had Charms class next, Ron needed to go to Herbology. Because Ron averaged only an 'Acceptable' in his Charms O.W.L., he was not eligible to take N.E.W.T. level Charms. They continued a little while in silence, before Ron said "See you in Transfiguration this afternoon." and left for the greenhouses.
"That was a very decent thing you did," Hermione said, "Warning Professor Snape."
A tinge of pink touched Harry's cheeks. "It was your idea in the first place."
"Yes, but you still did it. I know how much you dislike Professor Snape."
Harry grinned. "That's not exactly a big secret," he quipped.
Charms class, normally one of the more robust and exciting classes, turned out to be more dull than interesting today. When Professor Flitwick stepped on his usual stack of books to oversee the classroom, he immediately asked that everyone put their wands away and to draw their quills and fresh parchment. The class sighed and obeyed, automatically slipping into daydreaming mode to better pass the time.
The reason for the sudden change, however, was well founded. For N.E.W.T. Charms, students were required to be able to conjure and control a creature for at least twenty seconds. From what Professor Flitwick described, the process was often complicated and draining, usually requiring a good deal of concentration and effort; largely depending on the animal summoned.
Conjuring creatures allowed the witch or wizard to summon an animal, and then to control it for a certain period of time. Non-magical creatures were relatively easy to conjure, but harder to control and keep around. Magical creatures were much more difficult to summon, and they were not expected to be able to conjure a magical creature unless they were heading into a profession that required it. This was what Hermione called 'Specialized Magic', or magic used only in certain professions.
Towards the end of class, Professor Flitwick conjured a rabbit on his desk, and had it perform a series of stunts and performances which drew most of the class out of their collective stupor. After a minute passed, Professor Flitwick thrust his wand into the air and the rabbit disintegrated and vanished, leaving the students who had not been paying attention the entire class to wonder what exactly happened. The Professor explained that the rabbit could only be summoned for a period of time before it disappeared. Master wizards could conjure larger animals and magical creatures for several minutes on end. Summoning more than one animal, however, was impossible as it demanded incredible amounts of power and focus.
As Professor Flitwick discussed the finer pointed of conjuring, Harry leaned back in his chair and chanced a glance at Gates. For the first time since last week, Harry saw him gazing longingly at a silver object cupped in his hands, which Harry now knew to be the Black family bracelet. Harry watched him for a moment before Gates senses his stare and tucked the bracelet under his scarlet robes. The diamond necklace glittered warningly from the movement; the tiny prisms flashing from the slightest movement. Despite the countless times Harry caught Gates admiring his bracelet, Harry was baffled as to why Gates did not glare at him as he did at other times when Harry did something that annoyed him. A small, almost imperceptible flicker or shadow crossed Gates's face; a glimpse of emotion that looked strangely like embarrassment.
At the end of class, the Professor assigned the class to write fourteen inches of parchment on the dangers and benefits of conjuring; along with bonus points if the report included references to the longest times ever recorded to the summoning and sustaining of a magical creature by a witch of wizard. From the way Hermione's eyes lit up when he said that, Harry guessed she already knew the longest recorded time.
They met up with Ron in Transfiguration, and they continued yesterday's lesson involving the transfiguration of certain parts of objects. Harry considered this to be significantly less entertaining than Charms; as at least in Charms he got to see a rabbit perform circus tricks. Transfiguring specific areas of tables and the like was more frustrating than interesting.
"I see some of you did not complete your homework as I asked you to," Professor McGonagall said above the dull groans and mutterings of the class, "And I find it difficult to believe that my N.E.W.T. students will seriously expect to pass without at least completing the necessary assignments."
At last, Harry managed to turn his desk leg into solid marble. Ron frowned; his appeared to be marble but splintered apart like wood. It was among one of the most bizarre things that Harry had ever witnessed.
"Ron," Hermione said, her face betraying puzzlement, "I don't have the faintest idea of what you did to create that effect," She bent over and tapped the half-marble, half-wood desk with her wand. "But its fascinating."
Ron, however, did not think it was much of a compliment.
When the bell rang and students began to pack up to leave, Professor McGonagall called out "Homework is to practice the transfiguration and to be able to perform it to an acceptable degree. Tomorrow I will be handing out zeros to those who are unable to turn their desk leg into stone. Class dismissed."
The students slowly shuffled out of the classroom, griping as they went.
"Unbelievable, this is all I need."
"I don't have the time!"
"Now I have Charms and Transfiguration-"
"They said N.E.W.T. classes were going to be hard, but this is ridiculous."
Walking out of the class, Hermione clucked her tongue. "Honestly I don't know what they're complaining about. We haven't even started the more complex forms of transfiguration."
"The more complex forms?" Ron repeated, sounding terrified. "This is hard enough."
"That's why you study, Ron." Hermione said airily.
They eventually winded their way through the corridors and made their way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and Harry noted with a small amount of apprehension that Ron's ears were steadily darkening into a delicate shade of red. It seemed that he was not at all eager to see his brother again, nor was he any closer to forgiving him. Mercifully, there were no physical confrontations between the two…yet.
Taking their usual seats near the back, with Gates in a corner, Harry glanced furtively at Ron, remembering Dumbledore's request that he keep an eye on his best friend during this school year. Two rows over, Harry saw Luna turn to smile at Ron, who in turn pretended valiantly to be looking through his textbooks. Harry pointed this out to Hermione and she giggled.
"Ron she's really nice you know," Hermione whispered to Ron.
Ron gave her a look reminiscent of a deer trapped in headlights. "You told me that before; but she's Luna."
Harry stifled a laugh. The late bell rang out, alerting everyone that class was in session. Professor Whams, in his customary purple silk robes and oversized spectacles strode into the room and set a heavy tome on his desk, knocking over a precarious stack of papers onto the floor in the process. Unaware of his accident, he turned to the class and cleared his throat. Percy, who stood nearby, mechanically began restacking the fallen pile of paper onto the desk.
"Ah, yes! Hello dear students!" He called out jovially, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Just noticing Percy cleaning up the paper, he said in a hushed voice to Percy "I wish you'd be more careful Perseus."
Harry grinned with Hermione, and was relieved to see that Ron had a small smile playing on his lips as well.
"Now where was I?" Professor Whams asked rhetorically, his eyes wandering up to the ceiling, "We've been discussing the Grendels, have we?" The class gave a murmur of assent. "Excellent. I believe I checked your essays on the um, errr," He paused.
"The summary of the muggle Grendel legend?" Hermione offered.
"Yes, that's the one!" Whams said cheerfully, "Though I can't say for sure how you all did, as I am not quite sure when I checked them in the first place. But, well, yes…"
"Here they are, Professor," Percy said quietly, handing Professor Whams a small stack of parchment. On the topmost paper there was a large splotch where it suspiciously looked like Professor Whams spilled a bottle of ink.
Whams accepted them gratefully. "Yes, straight to business. Can anyone give me a summary of what we went over the previous class?" Harry thought privately that it was more for the Professor's benefit than theirs.
Percy rolled his eyes behind Whams as if to say "I already told you where you are in this class ten minutes ago."
Hermione's hand shot up instantly. Whams squinted from behind his thick glasses and said, "Ah, err, Miss Her-mine-," he stammered, "Miss Granger!"
Hermione was unfazed. "We discussed known Grendel anatomy and vulnerabilities."
"Good girl! Five points to Gryffindor!" Whams said, clasping his hands in front of him, "You will all split up into groups of exactly five people and draw and label a Grendel's complete anatomy. I will be along now to pass out your essays-" Whams hesitated as Percy whispered quickly into his ear.
"It seems there are only twenty-four students in this classroom," said Professor Whams, chuckling, "So therefore split up into groups of four."
The class began to break up and form small groups. Desks screeched as they were pulled across the hard stone floor, and Whams watched them amiably from behind his magnifying spectacles. Soon, they were all properly separated. Harry was grouped with Neville, Ron, and Hermione.
Hermione drew the tall, lean outline of a Grendel on a piece of empty parchment, pausing occasionally for more ink. As she sketched, Whams moved from each cluster of students, passing out papers and sometimes becoming absorbed in conversation with a student. When Hermione finished, she showed them the clear figure of a Grendel.
"Alright so let's start labeling the parts…" Hermione began, examining the sketch carefully.
Ron sighed. "Hermione we all know you already know the complete Grendel anatomy. Why don't you just label it for us and-"
"Because that would be cheating Ron," she snapped, her eyes flashing, "And how would you ever learn?"
Class continued to crawl by slowly, with Harry and Hermione doing the majority of the work on the project; Ron and Neville mostly watching in amazement. They had the Grendel nearly half finished when Whams finally stepped up to their group.
"Ah, here," The Professor said, "Mr. Neville Longbottom and Mr. Weasley," Whams passed them both their respective papers. When he pulled out another, he smiled. "Mr. Harry Potter, you received full marks. Well done young man."
He continued shuffling the stack of essays until he pulled out a long, three foot scroll. "I spent the majority of my time reading this one, I believe," Whams said absently, "This belongs to Miss -" He stopped with the name, squinting from behind his thick glasses, as though he could not see Hermione's name properly.
"Miss Her-mine-ee Granger?" He hesitated. "Maybe, Miss Her-mon-nine?" Professor Whams frowned. "Miss Her-min-ine…"
Ron laughed openly while Hermione blushed a deep shade of crimson. Harry resigned himself to grinning broadly, not wanting to laugh at his friend's expense.
"Har-mine-ine? Her-moyne?"
Ron laughed harder, his face now beet red.
"Oh, of course," Professor said, his frown turning into a smile, "Miss Harmony Granger. Full credit as well. Wonderful job."
Hermione accepted her essay quickly and tucked it into her robes. As Whams left for the next table, her face began to clear and she smiled hesitantly.
"Anyway," breathed Harry, wanting to get back to the task at hand, "This is the secondary jaw, right?" He placed a finger on an area just above the extended neck.
"Wrong, Potter," said a cold voice behind him. It was, of course, Gates. "That would be the frontal bone shield. That is vital for the Grendel to protect its upper neck and skull. Also believed to resist certain hexes and curses, as well."
"Thanks," Harry muttered, scribbling in the answer on the drawing.
Gates leaned over and plucked his Grendel essay off of the table. His eyes darted back and forth as he scanned it. "No, I'm afraid you've gotten certain parts of the muggle legend wrong. Muggles myth claims the Grendel is descended from Cain," He shook his head. "Amazing what senility can do to a wizard. I'm truly astonished Henry gave this-" he shook Harry's paper disdainfully, "-full marks."
"Are you through?" Harry said flatly.
"No," Gates said, lowering the essay. His voice turned hard and icy. "Your conversation with Severus this morning has been troubling me for the majority of the day, Potter. What did you share with him?"
"Just needed to ask him a question about The Draught of Death." Harry said coolly, the lie coming easily. Somehow, he felt Gates would be angrier if he realized the real content of Harry's message to Snape.
"Interesting how you spoke with him immediately after sending off that owl…" Gates continued slowly.
"Are you trying to make a point?" Harry said through gritted teeth.
Gates narrowed his eyes. "Yes, I am Potter. The point, as you so eloquently put it, is that lying to a Legilimentist is extraordinarily unwise. Now tell me what you read in your damnable Godfather's letter to me? What did you tell Severus? Answer me?" He slammed his fist on the wooden desk and the class fell silent.
"I told him about the Sirius's third request alright?" Harry said loudly, "Are you done?"
Gates blanched. "You wait, Potter. You wait and I will wait and when the time comes you will beg me for your very life. I know the subtle ways of torture, Potter. I learned a trick or two from the old masters I found in eastern Europe. Such that it will drive you to-"
"Shut up!" Neville shouted, his face red and fuming. "You're- You're-" Neville looked wildly around, as though realizing what he just did. Harry stared at him in shock. He never believed Neville possessed such raw courage; or recklessness. "You're insane! That's what you are!" Neville continued resolutely, "A raving old madman!"
Gates recoiled, and the entire class held their breath. The Hit Wizard's face twisted into an expression of profound ferocity, his lips pulled back in a vicious challenge. His eyes zeroed in on Neville with terrible precision; like a hawk targeting its prey.
"Tell me what you want Gates-" Harry began, trying to take the attention off of Neville. He feared that Gates would take his bottled wrath out on him. Harry recalled instantly that the subject of torture had always been an exceptionally sensitive issue with Neville, and he quickly needed to draw Gates's anger away from the poor Gryffindor.
"SHUT UP!" roared Gates, his rage more apparent than ever. Gates locked his eyes with Neville, and Harry saw the blood slowly drain from Neville's face. Gates was reading Neville's thoughts again, learning his worst memories and terrors. Harry could do nothing but stare; mind numb and body petrified.
When Gates finished, he wore a broad, sadistic grin; as though he had just uncovered a cache of honey. His expression contorted into an appearance of utter malice, and when he spoke again, it was in a deathly quiet whisper that slowly rose as he continued. "Neville Longbottom?" He began to tremble with excitement.
Neville nodded meekly.
"Yes, you would be quite the authority on insanity, wouldn't you Longbottom?" Gates snarled, his lips pulled back to reveal his sharp teeth, "Since you're parents are like they are. You know, completely driven insane by Bellatrix? Isn't that why things are as they are?"
Whispers spread through the class, and Gates appeared unfazed. Tears brimmed on the edge of Neville's eyes. Something inside of Harry screamed out in injustice.
"I know spells and curses that would do the same to you, or anyone else, in fact," Gates continued, "Spells that aren't even illegal. They require much more skill and talent and power, but I find the screams are considerably more satisfying."
The murmur in the classroom grew. Students whispered to one another, their eyes never leaving Gates and Neville. Gates was swooping down onto Neville like a great hawk.
"Neville," Gates said, mocking him by using his first name, "Don't your classmates know about your parents? How they were tortured to madness?" Gates voice feigned surprise. Harry's brain froze; completely unable to react.
"Yes," Gates said, his voice louder. He turned to address the class. "Young Longbottom's parents were driven to madness by the use of the Cruciatus Curse. Alice and Frank, I think their names are. They are in St. Mungo's now; the mental ward, of course, as they are little more than walking vegetables."
Any trace of defiance Neville possessed a moment before quickly wilted and vanished under Gates's piercing glare and biting sarcasm. Burying his face in his hands, great, shuddering sobs shook Neville's body; proving beyond any doubt to everyone in the class that Gates was speaking the truth. Percy and Professor Whams, shocked speechless, blinked disbelievingly but said nothing. They too were fixed into their positions by their exchange. Fleetingly, Harry wondered if their inability to react was related to Gates himself. It seemed as though he had cast a silent, brooding spell over the entire classroom.
"So here in front of me sits their only son. Tell me, Longbottom, do you visit your parents often?" His tone promised that he already knew the answer. "Of course you do. Tell me, do they recognize you?"
Neville answered with a heaving sob.
"No, they don't, do they? But, what do we have here…" Gates plucked a large, fat folder from under Neville's elbow, obviously already aware of the contents. Neville struggled feebly for possession but failed. "Yes, let's see what we have here…" His eyes brightened with a hellish light.
He tore open the seal on the folder and dumped everything onto a clear desk; masses of paper and junk and…Harry gasped. At least a hundred small green bubblegum wrappers fell into a massive heap on the desk. They were the same wrappers that Neville's mother, Alice, gave her son every time he visited her at St. Mungo's.
"I see, young Longbottom, is this evidence that your mother does recognize you? Giving you empty gum wrappers as a gift, perhaps? Damning proof that she is stark mad, more likely." He spun back towards Neville on the heel of his boot. Almost spontaneously, he snorted with laughter.
"DOESN'T ANYONE FIND THIS AMUSING?" Gates bellowed, his grin broad with humor and mirth; though his eyes blazed with inferno. "Gum Wrappers?" He seized a handful and tossed them into the air. Gates's pupils grew and shrunk as he raved, and bits of froth gathered at the corners of his mouth. "And he calls me insane? Isn't that hilarious?!" Nobody laughed. Hermione clasped a hand over her mouth and she watched Neville anxiously, reaching out to hold his hand. Neville moved away.
The Hit Wizard stepped forward and slammed his hands onto a student's desk, the sound cracking through the breathless silence. "No one?" Gates said loudly, his hands shaking with a surging thrill, "Why am I the only one? The boy is utterly deranged! Don't you see? GUM WRAPPERS!"
Gates sneered at the silence and continued. "So what-"
Harry grabbed a handful of Gates's scarlet robes and yanked hard on them, effectively stopping Gates from speaking. He had managed to break out of the paralyzing trance Gates imposed upon the class. From the looks of those around him, the interruption was allowing them to regain control as well.
"Leave him alone!" Harry hissed through clenched teeth.
"Potter," Gates spat with utmost venom. The countless diamonds that hung around his neck sparkled darkly. "What are you-"
"You're sick," Harry said lowly, not letting go of Gates's robes, "You're a sick deluded madman."
Gates's eyes turned into slits. Harry sensed the cogs of intellect in Gates's mind slowly grinding as they reached a decision. Casually, Gates's hand drifted towards his wand. "Is that right-"
"That's quite enough, Alex," An unusually stern, threatening voice said softly. Professor Whams, who had broken out of the hypnosis, stood directly behind Gates and has his wand prodding into Gates's back. "I don't care how powerful you are; it doesn't matter at this range. Leave the boy alone. The headmaster will be informed of your conduct." This was not the first time Harry saw a glimpse of strength behind Whams's senility, and for a moment it unsettled him.
Despite Harry's knowledge that Gates's power rivaled (Or possibly surpassed) Dumbledore's, Harry saw a flicker of fear cross Gates's face. "So be it," said Gates, his hand falling back to his side.
"Let's go, Neville," Percy said encouragingly, helping Neville to his legs. The young Gryffindor's legs were wobbling and his face was tear-streaked and red. Percy hastily retrieved Neville's scattered belongings and tucked them under his arm. "Let's take a walk around the greenhouses, alright? Professor Sprout tells me that you have a mimbulus mimbletonia; those are rare, aren't they?" Percy continued to speak soothingly to Neville as they passed through the door, leaving the stunned class behind.
Gates retreated to his corner, his expression betraying uneasiness, while Professor Whams addressed the class. His tone was firm and rigid. "I trust you all will remember your decency and not spread cruel rumors through the houses concerning Mr. Longbottom's parents. If I catch anyone discussing Mr. Longbottom's parents, I will deduct forty points from their house. I assure you that every other professor will do the same."
The rest of the period passed in a slow, wounded fashion; most of the class spending their time recovering and processing this new information. True, a few of the purebloods already knew about the Longbottoms, but they kept it to themselves and did not know the details. Gates's cruelty, however, was not lost on anyone in the class; and disgust was etched into every student's face. Sporadic thoughts surfaced inside Harry's mind, and he contemplated plans for revenge. Ron, appearing to be on the same train of thought, glared furiously at Gates, his hands clenched into fists.
That bastard attacked Neville to get to me. He can't get away with this; not on Neville. Is this the lunatic's idea of punishment? Neville didn't do anything. Harry would have preferred physical pain to the look of humiliation that was written on Neville's plump face.
Hermione, seeming to read his mind, frowned and whispered "Don't do it, Harry. Don't duel Gates; he'll destroy you," her eyes pleaded with him, "We'll think of something, I swear we will."
"I won't," Harry assured her, "But it's just so wrong."
"I know, Harry, trust me I know…" she said sadly.
When class ended, the trio rushed out of class, Gates in tow. Harry saw a smoldering fire burning in Ron's eyes, and Harry felt the immediate need to calm him down. Students, if possible, avoided Gates even more as he strode imperiously out of the classroom. Whatever disquiet that Gates experienced after Whams's threat quickly dissipated when he stepped across the doorway. He looked supremely and impossibly confident.
"Breath, Ron," said Harry with a touch of forced humor. Merlin, how it hurt. "You and I can rip him limb from limb later, but right now we've got to go to class."
Ron merely nodded in response.
(A/N: Alas, poor Neville. I didn't enjoy doing that to him, (Well, not too much) but it was necessary. After chapters 7/8 we can put old Gates on simmer for awhile and like move on with the plot. And if you're wondering why Harry didn't say anything to Dumbledore: there will be an explanation later on.
And I hope everyone caught that one reference in honor to the souls on brave HMS Harmony who currently sail the dangerous waters of the mugglenet forums.
On a side note, next update may be a little while. (Like a week or maybe a tiny bit more) The Thanksgiving holiday is throwing me off a bit since I will be taking a brief break from the fic. This coming Saturday or Sunday is a safe bet for next update.
Chapter 8: Quidditch practice where something that is very-cliche-but-absolutely-necessary-happens. Oh, and Percy sees it. Then the DA, where Neville shows up for the meeting and things get a bit crazy. Dumbledore has a short chat with Gates, and there is a reprisal. Then I finish up the chapter with something that I can guarantee none of you would ever foresee. Its so incredible screwed up and twisted that its only something Gates could think of. If you think you know what it is, you're wrong.)