Disclaimer: If you recognize any HP person/place/thing, it belongs to JKR. If not, it's mine--as is the plot.
Chapter 19: WELCOME BACK
Harry Potter did not take his friend Ron Weasley to see Madame Pomfrey; in fact, the pair went as far as the Entrance Hall before they began to argue. Harry was very disappointed in Ron’s treatment of Hermione, but Ron could only focus on one thing: Hermione had snogged Malfoy.
“Let it go, will you?” Harry repeated for the fifth time, rolling his eyes upward. Part of him wanted to clobber his lanky, red-haired friend, but Harry knew only too well the importance for needing to vent and having someone to listen; he lost track of how may times Ron had done the same for him.
“I’m trying, dammit, but it’s not bloody working!” Ron snapped, pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath. “What was she thinking? How can she let that slimy git put his lips on her? That’s disgusting, that’s what that is.”
“You shouldn’t have called her a Mudblood,” Harry replied sagely. “Any chance you might have had getting through to her went out the window when you uttered that word!”
“Don’t you think I know? I didn’t mean to, Harry, honest! I don’t know what came over me.” Ron sighed heavily and pulled a hand through his shaggy red locks. He had done some mean things to Hermione before, but sinking to Malfoy’s level...? That was probably unforgivable in her book.
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, students began filling the Entrance Hall, buzzing about their morning entertainment. Many wondered what was going to take place; Ernie MacMillan wagered it would be Veela, while Colin Creevey was convinced that the Weird Sisters had come to perform for them again.
A third year had shouted there was probably another monster in the school; the response to that statement caused almost everyone to double over with laughter.
Only a few noticed a certain white-blonde, rat-faced boy slither through the crowd, making his way toward Harry and Ron; it hadn’t been easy to lose his lackeys, but he’d managed it neatly with a mumbled excuse about needing to see Professor Snape about the previous evening’s Potions assignment.
Draco caught sight of the two as he descended the steps, and had wondered why Hermione was not with them; when he passed a group of seventh year Ravenclaw girls, he overheard one of them telling a very interesting tale.
“Hermione nearly punched him on the nose!” the dark haired girl whispered excitedly. “Of course, I would not have hesitated; no one calls me names and gets away with it...”
Hmm, Draco frowned. Who would make Hermione that upset--and why? He passed Neville Longbottom, who was speaking to a red-haired girl. Draco decided to pause a moment longer, in case Longbottom gave up any useful information; he did not have long to wait.
“Ron said the most horrible thing!” the usually timid and meek boy blurted. “He was obviously very upset about Hermione snogging someone (Malfoy, I think), and he called her a Mudblood!”
Neville’s companion’s jaw dropped. “No! How awful for Hermione! That was not very nice; what did she do?”
Neville shrugged, obviously still bewildered. “Harry dragged Ron away, but I swear Hermione nearly drew her wand to...” It was then that he noticed Draco; Neville’s eyes grew round, and he stammered an apology, dragging his female friend away.
Normally, the sight of Longbottom would give Draco cause to do something rude, but this time his thoughts were elsewhere. How like Weasley to botch up any sort of relationship with a girl, Draco thought with a shake of his head. This could prove useful for me...
Rubbing his hands together gleefully, he sought out Hermione in the crowd, but she was nowhere to be found. A small pang of concern seared through him, but he quickly tamped it down; it would do him no good to feel for Granger, not when he had bigger fish to fry.
Speaking of... Draco thought slowly, I wonder what I can glean from Potty Head and Weasless? He moved closer to the two friends, and hid behind three tall sixth year Slytherins, who were standing only six feet away from Harry and Ron.
It was difficult to hear them, as everyone was talking in loud, excited voices, but Draco was able to snatch pieces of the pair’s conversation.
Harry’s voice was first. “I... ought to... Hermione... we should... alienate her... she’s... with... Malfoy... now.”
Ron appeared to be nodding his head. “All right, mate... I hope she... grovel... would love that... never let... forget...”
Draco’s eyes widened in surprise; these two wanted to shun Hermione and make her grovel--all because he, Draco, snogged her?
And I thought I was brutal, Draco snorted silently; he wondered if he should seek out Hermione and give her the bad news, but decided to wait until this evening when they were doing their patrols; her reaction would be much more interesting...
Draco tried to hear more, but the doors to the Great Hall were thrown open, revealing Professors McGonagall and Flitwick in its massive doorway.
“May I have your attention, please?” Minerva McGonagall called, clapping her hands together. Within seconds, all was silent; no one wanted a reprimand from the Transfiguration teacher. She might be fair, but she certainly was tough.
“We’ve called you all together today for two reasons,” Professor McGonagall continued. “The first being that Madame Hooch has so graciously consented to allow someone new to referee the first two Quidditch matches of the year...”
“And the second,” Professor Flitwick squeaked loudly, “is that two of your very own classmates will be providing entertainment for us as we introduce you to this new referee!”
“Is the new referee one of the Weasley twins?” someone called out. Everyone laughed; the Fred and George Weasley were the most famous Gryffindor Beaters in the history of Hogwarts’ Quidditch. Even though the twins now ran a joke shop on Diagon Alley, many hoped the pair would return to the school one more time.
“No, neither of those two disobedient jokesters will be making an appearance here today,” Professor McGonagall replied tartly, admonishing the speaker with a severe look. “But we do have someone not unfamiliar to many--if not all of you, so please come inside, be seated, and be polite! Lunch will be served immediately following the performance, so please remain in the Hall.”
“Thank you!” Professor Flitwick twittered, stepping aside to allow students to pass.
The sight that greeted the students made many giggle and others to guffaw loudly; delicate, flowered teacups and saucers hovered in the air above the long rows of tables. Little bluebirds flitted about, chirping gaily as they zoomed over the heads of the students.
At the front of the Great Hall stood Professor Dumbledore in a long gold robe covered with tiny purple stars. His hands were clasped in front of him and he peered at the crowd over the top of his half-moon spectacles.
“Welcome, welcome,” he called out cheerfully, as a single bluebird landed on his shoulder. It appeared, for the barest of moments, to speak to him--and he it--when it took flight once again. The tiny bird made several lazy circles then came to rest on the left shoulder of Argus Filch and proceeded to relieve itself on the man’s grubby green coat before flying away once more.
“I do believe,” Professor Dumbledore said in an amused tone, having witnessed this, “that that is a sign of good luck.”
The entire room exploded into laughter as Filch glared at the Headmaster.
“Oh, yes!” Professor Trelawney piped up from her seat at the Professors’ table. “Would you like me to read the droppings?” She half-stood, ready to push back her seat and scurry to Filch’s side.
”No!” Filch cried over the further screams of amusement, scooping up a howling Mrs. Norris, and making a beeline for the exit.
Several moments later, the laughter died down as Dumbledore motioned for silence.
“Where’s Ginny?” Ron whispered to Harry, noticing that his sister was not at their table.
Harry glanced around. “I don’t know,” he replied in a low tone. “Perhaps this was part of her punishment. Maybe she and Luna had to stay away while we get treated to something...?”
Ron shrugged then turned his attention back to Dumbledore, who was in the middle of his speech.
“... a fine person of upstanding citizenship. This person was once a guest at Hogwarts and we were grateful that he has accepted the invitation to return here--despite the tragic events that surrounded his last visit--to become our special guest referee for only two Hogwarts’ Quidditch games. That said, I needn’t remind all of you to be on your best behavior while our guest resides in the castle. ” He peered bemusedly at the crowd. “I understand that our guest can cause quite a ruckus--”
“Oh, no, Professor!” Seamus Finnigan called out. “ It’s not Gilderoy Lockhart--is it?”
Again, laughter filled the hall, but this time there was a twinge of nervousness there. Many people remembered all too well the last time Lockhart had been in Hogwarts. Mayhem and near-death had almost caused the school to close--not to mention the gaggles of girls falling all over themselves just to get a peak at him.
Most silently hoped it wasn’t Gilderoy Lockhart, even though Dumbledore’s description of their guest sounded remarkably so.
“No, Mr. Finnigan, I am sorry to disappoint you. However, I could call Professor Lockhart back, if you’d like...?” Dumbledore turned away, reaching for a quill and parchment that lay near his place at the teacher’s table.
“NO!” The denial rang out clear as a bell--in more than one voice.
“As I thought,” chuckled Dumbledore, returning to his place at the top of the steps. “Now, as I was saying.... please welcome back our friend and guest referee... Mister Viktor Krum, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy!” With a grand sweep of his arm, Dumbledore stepped back as the side door beyond the teacher’s table was thrown open to reveal Viktor Krum, seeker for the Bulgarian Quidditch Team.
Several seconds shocked silence greeted Krum as he stepped through the doorway. For a fleeting moment he wondered if coming back to Hogwarts had been a good idea. Then, without warning, screams of elation hit Krum like a tidal wave and he stepped back, stunned. Quickly recovering, however, he forged ahead and met Dumbledore halfway, clasping the older man’s upper arm and hand in greeting.
Many of the students could barely contain themselves; most were clamoring into their bags for quills and parchment, hoping to garner an autograph, while others were pushing Colin Creevey to the front, requesting he take several photographs of the famous international sport star.
Harry and Ron fell back onto the bench, bewildered; this was an unexpected treat indeed. However, instead of celebrating and welcoming Krum along with their fellow classmates, both were thinking of something else entirely: Who was going to tell Hermione about this odd turn of events?