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Chapter 14 - Where the Baker had met with the Snark

December 14, 1996The rest of November had passed like a normal school month was supposed to pass. No more than the usual number of pranks, and no more than the usual amount of homework. The end of the year was approaching, and fifth and seventh year students were looking forward to a nice holiday break from their grueling studies.

The mood of the school seemed much more upbeat, and for good reason. Harry's defense class had people -- students and teachers alike -- optimistic about the whole Voldemort thing for the first time in a long time. Although nobody wanted the Dark Lord looming around the next corner, Harry's constant and driving can-do attitude was infectious.

Harry taught everyone in the school who wanted to learn. From the ickle firsties all the way up to Headmistress McGonagall, whom he had spied listening in on more than one meeting. The Room of Requirement was continuing to provide everything needed, including the room for the still-growing body of members.

From year to year, Hogwarts was normally home to roughly 450 students; spread out among houses and ages. This year, Harry's sixth year, his supplementary defense education class had grown to two hundred eighty-seven regular attendees, including the sporadic teacher involvement. Nearly two thirds of the entire school was learning defense from Harry -- better than they ever had before.

Which was why Laura Wilkinson's first reaction was to try to defend herself.

Laura was of average height for her twelve years, and looked a bit severe for her Hufflepuff affiliation. Her hair was mid-length and glossy black. She was amuggle-born witch who loved sharing her dreams of sailing and interior design with her roommates, smiled readily, and made friends quickly. She also had a slight stutter, which was what had attracted entirely the wrong kind of attention that Saturday.

"P-p-p-puff!" cried Laura, pointing her wand and trying to use one of her 'shortcut words'. Harry had coached her on using shorter words, to give her less trouble with her stutter when trying to cast quickly. Unfortunately, her punching spell was underpowered and missed completely.

Pansy Parkinson laughed, deriving genuine entertainment from Laura's attempt. "What's the p-p-p-problem, Wilk-wilk?" she said between laughs. 'Wilk-wilk' was what some of the more cruel students called Laura, after she'd been unable to speak out her last name one day in class without stuttering. "Petrificus totalis." In contrast, Pansy's spell was quite effective, and Laura was utterly unable to move.

"So much for Potter's classes, I'm thinking," the Slytherin princess crowed. "Can't even protect yourself from a simple Petrificus, Mudblood! Draco must be losing it..." she trailed off, tapping her wand to her chin and thinking about Malfoy's new-found fear of all things Potter. "That's okay, let's have some fun!"

Pansy took Laura's wand from her helpless hand, and stepped back. "Finite incantatem," she cast, releasing Laura to the floor. Followed up with a quick bludgeoning spell to the younger girl's abdomen, driving all the air from behind the youngster's traumatized solar plexus in one long, loud moan.

"Can't be having that noise, now, can we? Silencio. We wouldn't want to be interrupted now, when we're having so much fun." Pansy Parkinson, the Slytherin Ice Queen, got a manic look on her face at the prospect of torturing the poor first year girl. A little globule of spittle gathered at the corner of her mouth, but she didn't notice. She was utterly absorbed in anticipation of her grisly diversion, gazing in near-sexual excitement at the silent, tearful wretch on the floor before her.

She also didn't notice that they were no longer alone. At least, not until her wand burned in a flash to white-hot, and then to powdered ash, burning her hand. Pansy wasn't able to turn fast enough to even see that it was Harry Potter who had stopped her. And it was also Harry Potter who had enclosed her in some kind of cube made entirely of energy. She had no way of knowing that Harry had patterned it after a 'force field' in a muggle book he'd read.

Pansy tried immediately to attack the walls of her ethereal prison -- only to halt her attempt just as quickly when she felt every blow to the transparent wall on the back of her own neck, as if she had punched herself.

Harry was squatting beside Laura, who was trying to catch a breath. He stroked her forehead, keeping the young girl's hair out of her eyes, before picking her up and holding her in his arms like a small baby. "You did very well, Laura," he said. She still couldn't speak, but was shaking her head back and forth. "Yes, my friend, you did. I felt that spell you cast all the way up in the Gryffindor tower; that's why I came to see what was going on. That was pretty powerful spell work, young lady."

The muscles of Laura's abdomen had finally lessened their grip enough for her to take in a breath, whereupon she coughed, then buried her face in Harry's shirt and cried. Here I go again, thought Harry. Another woman crying on me. "Do you need Madame Pomfrey?"

Laura shook her head. She didn't want any more attention drawn to her than necessary.

"Okay," said Harry. "But you know I can't let this go. I can keep your name out of things for now, if you like, but I'm not letting this go." He looked her in the eye before gently setting her down on her own feet. "Alright, off you go, then. I have something to do."

Laura took off running down the hall, pausing only to pick up her wand, which had fallen to the floor. Harry walked down the hall. The energy cube rose and floated behind, following him, bringing an enraged Slytherin girl with him.

He got a lot of strange looks from folks as he passed, but most of the student body was in the Great Hall -- which was a good thing, as that was where Harry was headed. As he leaned on his staff to walk up the center aisle of the Great Hall, towing a floating and spitting Pansy behind him, the hall gradually grew quiet. They didn't know what was going on, but they knew that if Harry was involved, it was bound to be a good show.

Stopping in front of the head table, Harry bowed to Professor McGonagall. At that point, Harry almost wished that Snape were still on the staff, so that he could publicly smack the man down again in front of his house. Instead, he said calmly, "Professor, there has been an attack."

The headmistress put down her fork and gave him her attention. "Go on, Mr. Potter," she said.

"I interrupted this inbred snake chick torturing a first-year girl student in the hall outside the library. Making idiot noises about 'mudbloods' and slobbering on herself." At these comments, there was some commotion at the Slytherin table. Nobody was willing to confront him directly, but he was touching some nerves.

"Don't worry, Professor," Harry continued. "I'm not out for vengeance. I just want to take some small security measures to help protect the students, and make sure this doesn't happen again." He saw Pansy begin to relax; thinking maybe she wouldn't get punished after all. "After all," Harry said, raising his staff, "protecting the students is important. Wouldn't you say so, Headmistress?"

"Y--" began Professor McGonagall. For the first time in Harry's memory, she had stammered. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Yes, Mister Potter; protecting the students is quite important."

It was a rhetorical question, and McGonagall recognized -- too late -- that an answer wasn't expected. She watched, just as enthralled as the rest of the room, as Harry's security measure was revealed.

The floating shield cube containing Pansy started to glow a little brighter, and ahigh-pitched whistling sound could be heard. The light got brighter, and the whistle got louder and lower, lowering in pitch to the lowest level audible to the human ear. Steadily brighter... until it was too bright to look at comfortably. Steadily louder, until the cutlery began to vibrate and dance on the tables. Louder and lower still, until the noise was unbearable and the entire castle was shaking with the vibration. Most of the students and staff were screaming, holding their ears, unable to listen or watch.

Then the light and sound stopped abruptly, and Pansy dropped two feet to the floor.

"Professor McGonagall, Ms. Parkinson will never torture another student at Hogwarts. She is no longer capable. All magical ability has been removed from her, forever." There was an uproar in the Great Hall; most of Slytherin was apoplectic. Some of Gryffindor actually cheered, while most of the rest were just confused. Magical ability removed? How? Even McGonagall was agape, trying to process this datum.

"I would like to recommend that Ms. Parkinson be sent home," Harry said. "She is no longer a witch; she is now asquib. As a non-magical human, she is not eligible to attend Hogwarts."

Pansy Parkinson fainted dead away. The roar intensified; everyone trying to talk at once.

Harry banged his staff on the stone floor, enhancing it with his magic. A great huge boom! like the firing of a cannon filled the room, and got the immediate attention of all present.

"Listen up!" Everybody except Pansy, reposing on the floor, did so. Harry continued. "Listen closely, bigoted cretins. There shan't be any more of this blood crap. Anybody else Ifind doing blood-bullying will be made a squib. No second chance, no extenuating circumstances, no last-minute repentance. Squib. For life."

His visage was utterly frightening. He still didn't appear to have lost his temper; he was discussing this with no more passion than a remark about hair styles. He looked pointedly down at Pansy's unconscious form on the floor at his feet. "Somebody should help her send a letter to her parents. The owls won't listen to her anymore."

***

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall was in a fix, and she knew it. She sat behind her desk in her Transfiguration office; still not feeling quite at home in the head office. With Harry seated in front of her, she was attempting to keep aprofessional demeanor. It wasn't easy.

Nibelung and Peony Parkinson, Pansy's parents, were there as well. Both of them were standing, yelling, and gesticulating wildly -- though separately. Like many of the so-called "pureblood" families she had seen, there was little apparent emotional tie between the parents. They each acted like they were the only injured party, and bellowing and moaning in predictable fashion. Instead one of them sitting with their daughter, they were both vociferating at the Headmistress -- proving they cared more for their social standing than for their daughter.

"What kind of institution allows..."

"Is this what you call a proper education..."

"Just wait until I report you to the..."

"I told them you weren't ready for this position..."

Harry was there, but not participating. Even when Mrs Parkinson got close enough to his face for him to detail what she'd had for lunch, he just looked bored, as if everything happening here had been played out already in his mind. Which, of course, it had.

"Well?" Mr. Parkinson finally shouted, in a small lull left by his harridan wife. "What are you going to do about it?" he demanded.

"Do about what, Mr. Parkinson?" she asked, politely.

"Why... but... this baseless attack on our daughter, of course! Madam, I demand that you summon the Aurors and have this dangerous... this... half-blood freak arrested!"

Minerva realized that she wasn't going to get much chance to speak. They weren't here to find out anything from her; they were just going through the motions and demands. She looked at Harry, who had been jerked into participating in the conversation by Parkinson's comment.

Harry answered her unspoken question. "By all means, Headmistress," he said in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. "Please, summon the Aurors."

The professor threw floo powder into the fire and did the deed. Having been already notified of trouble, they didn't have to wait. They couldn't hear the conversation between the professor and the aurors, but as soon as her head returned from the flames the fireplace flared, and two men in auror uniform came into the room.

"I'm Ellis, this is Cooper," said one, brushing soot from his robes. "What seems to be the trouble?"

Before anyone else could speak, Harry waved his hand and petrified the two Parkinsons. "Well, Auror Ellis, this is your lucky day. You get to arrest two Death Eaters."

"Just relax, sonny; we'll take care of things," said Ellis, before turning to McGonagall. "Headmistress, can I--"

"Do you get special training to be rude and inconsiderate, or does it just occur naturally when you give an arse-hole a badge?" interrupted Harry, refusing to be put off.

Shocked at being spoken to in that tone, Ellis stopped and took a closer look at Harry. He took a breath to speak, but Harry beat him to it. "Just look. Mouth closed, eyes open." He pointed. Ellis looked at Cooper, who shook his head just slightly, but enough for Harry to see who was really in charge.

He had used his magic to highlight areas of interest on the Parkinsons. Pointing them out, he said, "These yellow areas I've outlined for you are dark objects. Don't touch them until the Unspeakables look at them."

"And just how do you--" Ellis tried.

"These purple areas," said Harry without giving an inch, "are portkeys concealed about their person. Pretty paranoid, wouldn't you say? You'll have to remove those before I release them. And the most fun of all..." he tapered off. Waving his hand, the left sleeves of both Parkinsons' robes fell off, exposing their Dark Marks.

Ellis looked at Harry as if he'd grown a horn out of the middle of his forehead. "Are you mad? These are very powerful people! You can't just go around accusing important people of being Death Eaters! You've put us in a very difficult position." He looked genuinely frightened.

"Difficult?" asked Harry. "No, not difficult. Is there a codicil to the law that says it's okay to have the Dark Mark if you're rich?"

"Look, it's not that simple," Ellis said.

"Yes, it is. It is precisely that simple. Here you are, Mister Law Enforcement Official; two proven Death Eaters, in front of witnesses, all wrapped up in a nice tidy package. Are you afraid they're going to overpower you? Don't worry, I'll protect you." Minerva raised her hand to cover her grin, while Harry continued to speak in a wry, sardonic tone. "Stop trying to cover your arse and do your fucking job."

Ellis'face began to redden. He didn't want to take any more guff from this student, no matter how many scars he had on his head. He turned to Harry and was about to start yelling when Cooper put a hand on his shoulder. Ellis looked long and hard at Harry; his face showing ambivalence. Part of him wanted to attack, and part of him was trying to figure out the strange behavior of a mere boy.

He then turned, put the apparation manacles on the still-petrified Parkinsons, and disappeared with his charges. Cooper allowed the corner of his mouth to lift before nodding to Harry, then to McGonagall, and disapparating.

Minerva sat at her desk, and opened the drawer for her secret bottle -- only to find she had neglected to replace it after the last time it was needed.

"Professor, it rather seems like I shall have to chew out the entire Auror Department, one or two at a time, to get them to actually fight the Dark."

McGonagall looked at him, then sighed and slumped, resigned. "I wish I could tell you that wasn't true, Harry. But I suspect you may be spot on."