Chapter 64 - The Nutty Professor
Harry woke up coughing as a bucket of ice cold water splashed on his face, the throbbing on it worse now than before he lost consciousness. Blinding bright lights blazed upon him he couldn't keep his eyes open. He felt rough chilly wall on his back and warm dampness began trickling down the side of his head onto his burning bare shoulders. He was suspended and pulled up by the wrists, feet grazing ground, his entire weight stretching his arms fully and quite painfully. Ignoring the shooting discomfort that came from every single muscle and nerve in his body, he managed to get on his feet and immediately felt the relief on his arms.
"Crucio!"
Ugh!
He gritted his teeth and grunted to himself as the pain washed over him. Caught totally unprepared for it, his legs gave way and he hung by his arms again.
"Like that," one of Waterman's men pointed out, "That's how you do it."
He got back on his feet, peered through the bright lights and counted. There were about ten of them who had joined this how-to-torture clinic of which he was the lucky guinea pig. No sight of Andy.
"Crucio!"
Oomph!
The chains above him rattled and tightened as his body folded inward. His breath was shallower and faster when the pain abated.
"That's it! That's what I mean!" the teacher encouraged.
Harry had no concept of how much time had passed but they were getting pretty good at inflicting suffering. The group of magical Squibs finally overpowered them after half an hour of unconventional fighting. The defeat itself wasn't too bad. It was the physical beating that he got from Waterman after that was worse. With two others holding him down it wasn't much of a match but the Squib got his licks in anyway and regained some of the dignity he lost earlier. Waterman was definitely not in the room with them or he would be teaching this class himself.
"Next!" the teacher called out.
"He looks pretty banged up," he heard the student say, "Maybe I can practice on the witch instead."
"You heard Tom. He doesn't want us touching her."
That meant Andy was not dead. The git obviously had something more malicious planned for his partner. Harry really should have done what Ron asked him to do to the asshole when he had the chance.
"But the Potion Master wants this one alive. We might accidentally kill him or turn him into the Nutty Professor."
There was laughter from the crowd. Nutty Professor…must have been some inside joke.
"Hmm…good point."
"Why don't you practice on each other?" Harry suggested, laughing.
"Crucio!"
His limbs writhed and his muscles convulsed from the burning agony, the metal bonds cutting fresh marks into his wrists. The teacher stopped cursing just as he was about to lose consciousness again.
"Bring in the Professor," the teacher commanded. "We can use him until Potter recovers."
Harry listened as a couple of men left, the remaining grumbling about not liking the idea of practicing on the 'Professor'. He tried to scan for his wand but could not feel its presence within the vicinity. Summoning it, he came up with nothing. Shuffling feet noise precluded further attempts.
"Professor," the teacher acknowledged.
"Yes, I am," the Professor replied, lively and alert, misunderstanding that the greeting was a question.
The voice was familiar, too familiar that it did not make any sense. It couldn't belong to the person Harry had in mind but then he had been through a lot that morning. Maybe he was beginning to hear things.
"I teach Herbology at Hogwarts, the most illustrious school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Today, we will be learning about an extra-ordinary plant, the Mimbulous Mimbletonia."
Too weird...
As the Professor spoke Harry fought through the lights a second time, needing to see the man with his own eyes. It was a definite surprise to see him, both pleasant and disconcerting. It was also reassuring to know that he was not hearing things and that he had not lost his mind.
The Nutty Professor was indeed Neville Longbottom.
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A transparent figure with blonde hair and blue eyes hovered a short distance away. It was her, the ghost of her. Her pale presence contrasted against the deep navy blue robes she had on and they looked at each other waiting for the other to say something first.
What was she doing here?
The hastily composed answers Hermione came up with kept coming back to one thing. It was obvious there was simply no ignoring it. That is, if she was indeed the woman Hermione thought she was.
"You're Mia," she said, breaking the awkward silence.
"And you're Hermione," the phantom answered simply.
With that proper confirmation Hermione's mind went into overdrive and spun in place. His family ties to Lestrange and the Watermans, his return to London, his presence in Toronto, and now Mia's appearance in the midst of the chaos where all of this was coming down. Horrible as it was to think especially after defending him so staunchly against all sensibility but she could not help herself. Things did not fit right from the beginning. It still didn't fit. She kept on thinking about the difference in the Neville of three days ago, to the Neville of yesterday and the Neville of today. She had so many questions she never thought would come up and it angered her how naïve, well, actually stupid, she was to fall for all that. How many lives had she affected by ignoring the warning signs?
"Don't judge him yet," the ghost requested, "Not until you know the story."
"What he has done is beyond despicable. I don't care about the story."
She really didn't, although her inquisitive nature wanted to know what happened.
"It was my fault," Mia's face hardened as she tried not to cry, "I need your help to pull him back."
What? Did she really just say that?
"Are you serious?!" she exclaimed with incredulity.
"Desperately so. I can't let him go through with this. It will ruin him forever."
"It already has."
"Maybe if you talk to him..."
"Why don't you talk to him?"
"He won't listen to me."
"If he won't listen to you what makes you think he'll listen to me or anyone else?"
There was a rustle in the other room that distracted them both. Someone was about to join them. Mia looked over Hermione's shoulders and frowned in disappointment.
"I can't think of what else to do and there isn't much time. Please," she pleaded and then vanished with reluctance.
"Wait!"
Befuddled and seeking clarity to piece it all together, Hermione tried to stop her from leaving but Mia was gone. The doors to the control room behind her swung open and Tom Waterman walked in, filling the room with haughtiness, gloating at some victory.
"Miss Granger, we meet again," he greeted.
Waterman's cold voice made her heart skip a beat.
Let him be okay.
XXXXXXXXXX
Luna and the Bruin waited for her to expound on what she just said. Moments before, Ginny read the illicit Healer notes about Clay Roofdam's treatment at a Detroit hospital. The Healer who sent it to Hermione had called her mobile phone just after Neville kidnapped her and there was considerable anxiety about news that the patient referred to on the file was being looked into by the Toronto MLE. Their Detroit counterparts were snooping around.
While perhaps Ginny shouldn't have misled the caller about her identity, Ginny took the panicked request to immediately destroy the copy and decided there was no urgency. Call it gut instinct or just plain ole Malfoy witch hunt but despite all the evidence diverging from their Hogwarts nemesis, she had to look at the file that Hermione illegally procured, curious why her friend hid it from her.
So, instead of destroying it as requested, she took it with her to London and asked Luna to break the code. Hermione's password was no match for their flighty Ravenclaw friend and as Ginny read it, she came across a name she had just read earlier when she studied a dossier on the Bruin Pia Russet; a sister, Mia, Detroit lawyer, suddenly dead at a young age. Coincidence? She thought not.
Distrust grew and she grasped her wand inside her robes. Ginny looked at Pia Russet straight in the eye, ready to hex at a hint of a fib.
"Do you know Draco Malfoy?"
"Of course I do," Pia Russet answered, the strain in her voice unmistakable, "He was my sister's boyfriend."
Luna was singing the chorus to a popular Muggle song, her mind drifting off somewhere else, "It's a small world after all…"
"Don't you think it odd that he's related to all these people who are murderers, are dead or both?"
"Odd, no. Worrisome, yes. I told Mia something very similar a long time ago," she replied, the memory of her dead sister visibly upset her, "But he's not the potion master. Longbottom is."
Ginny was about to say her thoughts out loud and wouldn't have sounded sane so she stopped herself in time.
"Okay," she drew at deep breath in, trying for some patience, "But didn't you ever wonder if Malfoy was the potion master?"
"Of course, I did. The Bruin Council did. I looked into it myself and found nothing. So did Uncle Isaac and the Bruins here in London. Uncle Isaac vouched for him and Council cleared him."
"Sir Isaac wasn't exactly a straight shooter and two of your Council members could be pro-potion," Ginny pointed out.
"Believe me, I'll be the first to cast a stone if you have any proof. My sister died because of all this. She swore to me on her deathbed that he had nothing to do with it. Mia would never lie about something like that. And as much as I disapproved of my sister's choice to be involved with him, Draco Malfoy did love her."
"You did confront him about it, didn't you?"
"The thought of killing him did cross my mind a few times," she said, reminding Ginny of the limitations the Bruins were faced with.
Ginny paused and thought. On the one hand there was all this Ministry information about Neville and Waterman, and then there was the Bruin story and Malfoy on the other. While they did not contradict each other it was like forcing ill fitting pieces into the jigsaw puzzle and finding extraneous ones.
Luna had finished her song and interrupted them, "I realize how this must be fascinating but perhaps we should get going before it's too late."
The Unspeakable was right. Ginny destroyed the file beyond recognition and made it disappear. They left for Toronto, a monstrous suspicion growing within her that this was, after all, about the Janus Prophecy and that the Bruins and everyone else had been hoodwinked by a Grey Warlock wannabe.
XXXXXXXXXX
Dean, Leo, Holly and a handful of other Canadian MLE were outside Professor Tan's York U lab freezing their arses off, waiting for reinforcements. Jack Muller brought the Minister up to speed on the situation. The uncertainty was daunting and because the enemy numbers was an unknown, the responsible Canadian leader did what he had to, pull all of Canada's most experienced crime fighters together.
That was taking time and bringing them up to snuff was going to take more time. Time was something they did not have much of. He stared at his GPS monitor. One red blinking dot stationary for more than an hour.
Did Hama find the other one and destroy it?
If she did then why didn't she destroy the other?
It wasn't moving. It could be a trap.
Or maybe…
They had to know what happened to it.
Fuck this…
He defrosted himself from the fixed iced position he was in thinking he could always say he lost his marbles under the pressure of Canadian winter.
Crack! Pop!
Dean Disapparated and reappeared right into the lobby. He Petrified the shocked receptionist and the two Muggles in the immediate vicinity as the others joined him in. Well, they were not left with much choice.
Following the signal on the screen in his hand he blasted his way through the more secure compartments of the Muggle Lab, generously hexing everyone he met along the way, finally stopping at the door to the room where the red dot resided.
Bombarda!
The entrance blew inward off its hinges smashing against the far wall. Dean quickly scanned, prepared for anything.
Desk…computer…chairs…no plants trying to take his head off…whew…
The rest of the MLE were behind him as he picked up a garment off the arm of the swivel chair. Robe with tracking device. Hama had taken it off and Disapparated, destination unknown.
The others left to do more searching but Dean knew they would not find anything. Judging from the lack of security response to what they just did they were in the wrong place. He magically fired up the computer and linked his GPS device to a Ministry satellite.
"What are you doing?" Holly finally asked.
"Looking for the other tracking device, hoping it's still live."
Nothing in Toronto. He could start grid searches but it would take too long. What he needed was a place to start.
His phone rang. It was Ginny. She was at the Ministry with Luna and the Bruin Russet. He told her what happened and what his problem was. Ginny put the Bruin on the phone and he listened, entering the location the woman suggested trying out, a Canadian bordertown adjacent to Detroit.
"Got it!" he exclaimed as a flashing red dot appeared on the centre of the screen. He turned to his fellow law enforcers, the same ones he just endangered, asked, "Is there any chance one of you could take me to Windsor?"
XXXXXXXXXX
Hermione ignored the Squib, hoping he would just go away.
"Where is the Potion Master?" he asked with derision as he walked over, "I wanted to show him how to teach arrogant pricks like Potter a lesson."
He's okay. Harry always finds a way.
Hermione tried to keep the welled up tears from falling but couldn't. While she would not give him the satisfaction of her desperate reply her uncontrollable overflowing concern betrayed her. Seeing this, the man laughed.
"If you were hoping to be saved you can scratch that thought," he taunted in her face, his breath disgustingly falling upon her skin, "Where's your hero now?"
Tasting bile in her throat she had to say something. She blinked off the tears as she fought him off the only way she could right now, as lame as she thought it was compared to what he claimed he did.
"I know what happened! I know it was you!"
That wiped the grin off Waterman's face and in its place, curiosity. He pulled back and listened as Hermione couldn't stop.
"It was you at the Ministry yesterday! It was you who killed all those people!" she accused, knowing if there was one person who wanted to admit to that it would be him, "Your little act with Malfoy is over!"
"Oh my!" he exclaimed, a bit taken aback by what she just said, "When they said you were the bright one they weren't kidding. I thought I did an awesome Longbottom despite the fact that my dear distant cousin is more boring and disinteresting than anyone else I've ever portrayed. I even amazed myself at the sordid details I was able to remember."
She had to agree the Squib was convincing. While all of them couldn't think Neville would be capable of doing what Waterman said he did, seeing his image kill and maim at the Ministry forced it upon them. It did not go past her that he referred to Neville in the present which meant that the Hogwarts Professor was, at least, alive.
"What I can't understand is why an accomplished and powerful Squib like you would take orders from an egomaniac like Malfoy," she challenged, sensing that was the way to go.
"I do not take orders from him!"
Her words sufficiently grated on the man with the short fuse, his ugliness now plainly visible. She pressed on.
"I guess he's making you pay him back for saving your hide so many times in court. What's the matter? Can't beat him up anymore like you did years ago?"
"I can beat him up anytime I want!"
"Don't kid yourself. You and I know you want to but you can't."
"How do you know that?!"
"I know what you're thinking. He has you hooked on a potion that only he can make. If someone else makes it, you can be rid of him forever," she carried on, the look in his eyes giving away the truth he was trying to hide, "He has all the control. He's too greedy and too smart to give that up."
"He has no choice! It is happening!"
"He's making you believe that this new potion is going to free Squibs from non-magical existence. He's using you to do dirty work, laughing behind your back because you're helping him create potion that will let him become even more influential. You are never going to be free, not with what he's intending to make. Do you really think he will give you something that will make you more powerful and magical than he is without any strings attached?"
"What do you mean?!"
"He's playing you."
"What do you mean?!" he repeated, screaming in her face.
She had taken him as far as she could and she could only hope it was far enough.
"Release Harry, help us put Malfoy away and I'll tell you."
Waterman suddenly grabbed her by the throat, his grey eyes filled with rage and began squeezing. Reflexively she held onto his wrist and arms, and tried to fight him off but his grip was too strong.
"Listen bitch. Don't play games with me. If not for Aunt Bella convincing me there was more to be gained by not ruining your life and Potter's, evidence of your indiscretion with him and how you besmirched the Healer robes of St. Mungo would have gone directly to the Healer's Registry."
She imagined her neck vessels being impinged beneath his fingers. Her face began to flush, oxygen-depleted blood pooled back as he cut off circulation.
"Had that happened you would never be allowed to touch patients anymore."
Hermione was choking, his grasp continued to tighten around her neck and she couldn't get air in!
"So, the way I see it, you owe me. Tell me what he's up to or I'll break your pretty neck in two."
Waterman was forcing her to look at him, to give him the answer to his question but she couldn't focus.
"Let her go!" she heard a man's voice command.
The constrictive sensation around her throat stopped progressing and the hand that was doing it started shaking ever so slightly.
"I said, let her go!"
It was Neville. Well, Neville's face and Neville's voice. She saw the annoyance in Waterman's eyes as he obeyed Malfoy's order. Hermione was right about that one and it was a good thing. As she touched her neck and took breaths in, she saw Malfoy toss over to Waterman a belt of phials with purple potion.
"I told you to stay away from her!" Malfoy scolded.
"I didn't do anything. You can have your little plaything back," Waterman's comment was like a slap across her face. Ginny had been right. It was foolish to fall for it hook, line and sinker, "But I should tell you she will not want you back. The game is over, Drakey. Your cover is blown and unfortunately for her, she's too smart for her own good."
"Just take the potion and watch Potter. I'll call you when we're ready," Malfoy said to Waterman.
The Squib, however, wasn't quite done. He turned to her and in a chilly, mean tone asked a non-question, "While we're being honest, would you like to know what really happened to your fiancé at the Quidditch match?"
Waterman wanted to get more recognition.
"I know."
At least she had an idea.
"Did the ghost tell you? What did he say? That he got hit by green light and fell?"
"Tom!" Malfoy shot him a warning, his words to her earlier echoing in her head.
Whatever happened, it wasn't your fault.
The Squib merely smiled and looked her in the eye on his way out. Without speaking, his voice registered in her thoughts with piercing clarity, taunting her, calling her in a sing song manner...Murderess...
A/N. To those who like Draco, forgive me. This was the reason for the Dramione. I wouldn't have been able to do this if that character wasn't Draco.