the fifth installment of
A Sackful of Holiday Horsefeathers
will now commence
The martial arts lesson turned out to be quite satisfactory.
"Minny, I mean, Professor McGonagall," said Lupin. "You can help me demonstrate this technique. It's called 'ho shin sool.' That's Korean for 'self-defence.'"
From their seated positions on the floor of the veranda, the children looked up with curiosity. McGonagall only shook her head. "I don't do anything I can't pronounce," came her reply.
"But it's fun! And it's very easy to pronounce. Listen again—ho shin sool," he enunciated more slowly.
McGonagall tried to shoot him a withering look, but her eyes betrayed her amusement. "I'm much too old to be tossed around like that Jackie Chan fellow," she protested further, but it was too late—Lupin had already seen the chink in her armor.
"But Jackie Chan is a Muggle! If he can do it, even Dumbledore can," Lupin insisted.
"I'd like to see that happen," McGonagall mused thoughtfully, cocking an eyebrow.
"Don't worry, Professor. I'm not going to toss you around." Lupin smiled, holding out his hand. "Come here, Minerva. Show them what you're made of. If I recall correctly, Minerva was the Roman goddess of wisdom, ingenuity, and warfare. You do want to live up to your namesake, don't you?"
McGonagall allowed herself a smile. "All right, I'll give it a go. But only if you promise not to throw me around."
Lupin raised an eyebrow. He was about to say, 'I didn't hear any objections last night,' but then he remembered they were surrounded by students.
He chose to say instead, "I promise. Now, stand in front of me and grab my left shoulder with your right hand."
McGonagall placed her palm tentatively upon Lupin's shoulder.
He reached up with his right hand and squeezed her attacking palm, putting pressure upon the fleshy area below her thumb. At the same time, he slid his left arm inside her elbow and forced her arm into a crooked S-shape, causing her to double over.
"Ow, that hurts," cried McGonagall.
"Oh! Sorry, Professor." Lupin let her go. "When it starts hurting, that's when we tap our leg—like this. That shows our partner that we've had enough."
He turned toward the students. "What I did just now may look very simple and quick, but it takes a lot of practice to do it right. There are pressure points located all over the body—like the one on Professor McGonagall's palm that I just showed you. In order to hurt your opponent, you need to know exactly where these pressure points are. You can't be fumbling around during a fight. Your reaction has to be automatic—instinctual even.
"Now, who knows what the goddess Minerva was called in Grecian mythology?"
Elaine was the only one to raise her hand. For once, Hermione didn't participate. "Was it Athena?" asked Elaine.
"Yes! Very good. Athena she was. Five points to Ravenclaw!" Lupin declared.
Draco was grateful for this little distraction that Lupin and McGonagall were providing. He found it interesting. Who knew that Lupin was a black belt in Tae Kwon Do? So that's what the man was doing now that he was out of Hogwarts: teaching bloody Muggles how to defend against members of their own species.
Draco slowly reached into his pocket and felt his hand close around a small glass jar. Everyone else was looking at McGonagall and Lupin. No one would notice Draco as he opened the jar and let the spiders go free onto the porch. There they went! They must've been hungry, those little buggers.
Draco screwed the lid back on and put the empty jar back in his pocket. He'd have to think of a new present for Ron now. Blast Dumbledore for adding more rules to this game! Draco wasn't about to risk getting seven weeks of bad luck just to hear Weasley scream like a girl. Seven weeks of good luck, however, were very tempting at the moment. Hermione was tempting.
Remus Lupin was now giving them a brief history of his sport. "Did you know that Tae Kwon Do is one of the oldest forms of martial arts in the world? It dates back to over two thousand years ago. That's older than Hogwarts."
A few yards away sat Ginny. She hadn't spoken to Draco at all that morning, and she now snuck a furtive peek at him. She thought he looked a little bored. Or was he glowering? No, he couldn't be mad, could he? It was his idea to break into the prefects' bathroom. And after all, they hadn't been punished. Oh, one may say that being trapped on the porch was a punishment, but it was more entertaining than not.
Remus Lupin had always been a popular teacher. He was especially so among the female students, a fact of which he was completely oblivious. Ginny forced herself to hold back a smile as she watched Lupin. He had the most luscious brown eyes. And the way his clothes fell on him, they were just begging to be ripped off!
"The Hwarang, which means Flower of Youth, was a group of elite warriors organized by King Jin Heung," said Remus Lupin. "The kingdom of Silla was very small and constantly under attack from foreign armies, so the King gathered together the noble born sons within his kingdom and trained them in what would eventually be called Tae Kyon."
Ginny wondered if Lupin was going to let the students practice with him one-on-one. It would be a dreadful shame if they had to just sit there the whole time watching him toss around McGonagall. Lucky McGonagall!
To Ginny's right sat Hermione, who was trapped amidst her own tangled web of woes. She hadn't heard a single word Lupin was saying, and yet she appeared to be studiously concentrating on the lesson. Hermione had done such a good job of listening in the past that she'd got the look down pat without even trying.
Her mind kept replaying the same fateful events over and over again. Her prospects of becoming a prefect now seemed dismal. If only she hadn't disobeyed the rules last night! And for what? To be with Draco Malfoy! Where was her mind? Why did she like him? Just a week ago, she couldn't see past his arrogance and hateful remarks, and now she was seeing a whole new layer of him!
Hermione through her muddled and tortuous reasoning kept arriving at the same conclusion: she must be insane.
But that meant that Draco was insane, too. Or maybe... No, Hermione didn't like the idea that Draco might be using her. He was sneaky, but he wouldn't use her. Nobody would dare use her! The very idea was appalling. Hermione was a Force to be Reckoned With. People respected her.
Draco was... Draco was... Draco was being weird, like all boys, and that was that.
"...Tae Kyon. The Hwarang was not only taught how to develop their bodies, but their minds and spirits as well. They studied history, poetry, philosophy..." Lupin noticed that his students' attention had been diverted to a trail of spiders running along the wooden deck. Lupin continued in a slightly louder voice, "Ahem. Who wants to come up here and be my assistant?"
Ginny's hand went up automatically, and Lupin called on her to be his first volunteer. He assigned the other students into pairs and told them to watch carefully, as they would be practicing the next drill with each other. "Harry, Hermione. Ron, Elaine. Sylvia, Jessup. Draco, Marvin. Elizabeth, Chrystal. Very good. Now, everybody face your partner and give a bow."
Lupin asked Ginny, "Have you done any martial arts before?"
Ginny shook her head.
"Well, it's very fun. And we never actually hurt each other in these self-defence drills. Except for the pressure points; those hurt sometimes, as you've seen. We may practice grabbing and throwing our partners down on the ground, but we never actually punch or kick anyone. We come very close to the body, but we never punch, kick, or strike while we're not wearing our sparring gear. If I see anyone who's not taking this seriously, I'll have to ask them to leave. You need self-control for partner drills.
"Now, then. I'm about to teach you a Green Belt self-defence move, Ginny. We start learning self-defence at the Green Belt level. You're going to be the attacker for now and grab my wrist. My right wrist, with your left hand," he instructed, and she firmly grabbed his wrist, wondering what would come next. "Now I step forward into horse riding stance. In Korean, we call this stance 'choo choom sogi.'" He bent down low, slid his right foot along the ground and positioned it between Ginny's legs.
"At the same time, I jerk my arm out of Ginny's grip, turning my whole torso, and then do an elbow strike to her solar plexus. Then comes a backfist strike to the face." He did these maneuvers in slow motion at first, and then a second time, more swiftly. As he did so, Ginny couldn't help but notice the intensity radiating from his eyes. It was a mixture of focused energy and deep concentration that she found irresistible.
"Now, I'll be the attacker, and you can be the counter-attacker," said Lupin, blissfully ignorant of the hormone-induced thoughts that were dashing through her mind. "Do you remember the steps?"
Ginny nodded. "Mm-hm."
She and the rest of the students executed the drill numerous times until it was well polished, and thankfully no one got injured. Lupin then showed them how to do some kicks, using McGonagall for his assistant once again. McGonagall did so grudgingly, being the type of woman who would rather go waltzing across a ballroom floor. In the days of her youth, she had enjoyed Quidditch. But that was over forty years ago, and Quidditch was poles apart from 'that Jackie Chan stuff.' Nevertheless, McGonagall was beginning to develop a tolerance for this new sport. It was bearable if one didn't work hard enough to get all sweaty. One did have to maintain a professional standard of hygiene, for goodness' sake.
***
Snape ventured a peep out the window, trying to remain inconspicuous. The children's lesson was almost over, and Lupin was teaching McGonagall how to do a front snap kick. Snape forced his lungs to take in a deep breath of oxygen; it was so difficult to breathe when Minerva McGonagall was nearby.
Forlorn, he let the curtains fall back into place and walked away. He had to get out of the castle. He couldn't stand these feelings building up inside of him; they were like waves upon a storm-tossed sea. Just when he thought he had a moment's peace, he was rising to the top of yet another crest of agony. He needed a distraction.
***
The Headmaster was in the kitchen supervising the house-elves' work when Snape approached him.
In response to Dumbledore's raised eyebrows, Snape informed him, "I'll be in Hogsmeade this afternoon. There are several potions ingredients I need to stock up on. I've run completely out of erbsen juice. Those pesky students better not be breaking into my cupboard again—"
"Very well, Severus," said Dumbledore.
"I would like to bring Draco Malfoy with me."
"Draco Malfoy?"
"Yes. He is very eager to learn more about the intricacies of potion making," explained Snape. "I'm sure Lucius would agree with me that Malfoy ought to be doing something productive with his holiday, since he isn't spending it with his family."
Dumbledore went through the pros and cons very quickly in his head. Pro: Draco Malfoy would be out of his way. Cons: ….?
There were no cons as far as Dumbledore could see, and so he allowed Snape to drag the boy along with him.
Dumbledore thought of another pro after Snape left: Lucius Malfoy would be pleased that Draco was brushing up on his studies. Maybe one of these days, Lucius would stop griping about the way Dumbledore ran his school.
He was suddenly yanked out of that fantasy by a house-elf who came to him with an anxious confession. Dumbledore silenced a groan. It was always like this—whenever he came out of his office, he was bombarded with problems. If it wasn't, "The sink in the third floor washroom is leaking," it was "The garbage dumpster near the Quidditch field is overflowing," or "Somebody has petrified another one of the students." It was simply impossible to get anything finished unless he holed up in his office for hours at a time.
"Master Dumbledore, sir," the house-elf, who was called Blinky, solemnly addressed him. "Blinky is regretting to inform you, sir, that a whole set of the good silver is missing. Blinky is terribly sorry, and will gladly submit to any punishment you is seeking fit to devise." The house-elf lowered its head in shame.
Dumbledore gently placed his hand on the creature's head. "Thank you for letting me know, Blinky. I will look into the matter. You may resume your chores; no blame will be assigned to anyone until we have solid evidence."
The house-elf appeared to be disappointed at the lack of punitive action, and it went back to polishing the silverware with much reluctance.
Dumbledore was troubled by this recent incident, which reminded him of something else though he could not bring it to mind. It had something to do with... sparkly things, like jewels. And hourglasses perhaps. It was right there—the hint of a memory hovering right at the edge of his perception. Why could he not recall it?
Then he realized he'd already tucked that memory away in his pensieve. 'Fat lot of good that does me now,' he thought. He would have to go back to his office at some point to retrieve the lost memory. Perhaps it would give him a clue to the cutlery thief's identity.
***
Draco caught Ginny's gaze as she looked over at him. She waited for him to speak, but he merely gawked at her, not knowing what to say, and she averted her eyes as she scurried up the stairs.
Draco sighed. She was heading up to the Gryffindor common room, no doubt. Hopefully, things would soon go back to normal. Well, not normal, exactly, but back to the way they were last night, maybe. He and the girls wouldn't feel awkward and guilty forever, would they? He would get another chance to—
"Malfoy!" The voice calling his name belonged to Severus Snape. Draco looked up to see his professor swiftly advancing down the corridor toward him. "We are going on a trip this afternoon."
"We are?"
"I've told Dumbledore that we're going to Hogsmeade to stock up on more ingredients for Potions class."
"Are we all going? All of us students?" asked Draco.
"All of you? Oh, no. It's not a class trip," said Professor Snape as if the thing were out of the question. He looked around the empty hallway and, lowering his voice, he enlightened his protege further, "Just between you and I, Malfoy, we're not staying in Hogsmeade. I have very important business at a certain establishment in Knockturn Alley. I strongly suggest you accompany me; it will be very educational."
'Educational' is not a word that elicits much excitement, unfortunately. Draco, who much rather preferred to stay behind, asked, "Are you serious?"
"When have I ever not been serious?" his teacher uttered thickly.
"Oh, you are serious then."
"And we're leaving as soon as possible, so I recommend you run along and grab your things. Meet me back here," instructed Professor Snape.
"Yes, sir," Draco replied half-heartedly.
***
Their time in Hogsmeade was brief as promised. Once in the village, Professor Snape immediately led them into an old tavern with a fireplace in the back room. Several gruff-looking wizards were standing around a billiard table with tankards of ale in hand, playing a friendly game of 8-ball. They barely looked up from their game as the newcomers entered the room. Draco wondered vaguely what they were doing drinking at eleven o'clock in the morning.
"What are we doing here?" asked Draco.
"We're using Floo powder," answered Snape. He walked over to the massive fireplace and withdrew a velvet pouch from his pocket. He sprinkled a bit of Floo powder into Draco's upturned palm. They were gone in a wisp of green smoke, and the other wizards didn't bat an eyelash, not even when the words "Knockturn Alley" were uttered.
A second later Draco found himself in a narrow alleyway wedged between two brick buildings. At the end of the corridor he could see the crowded streets of Knockturn Alley. It was here that the true Slytherin at heart could be free from the fluorescent Christmas cheer that permeated the rest of the world at that time of year. There were no multi-colored light bulbs lining the storefronts. There were no tacky advertisements to buy rubbish that nobody needed. And best of all, there were no couples walking side by side holding hands. They were spared from that sickening sight, thank God. People who needed people were the most pathetic creatures on Earth.
"Do you know what a Runespoor is?" Snape questioned him as they pushed their way into the throng.
"Yes, it's a type of snake," Draco answered.
"Correct. And that is the purpose of our trip. We're here to buy one," said Snape, keeping an eye out for pickpockets as they moved through the crowd.
"I heard you can only get one on the black market," said Draco.
"Yes, that's true. You have a good memory."
"Why do we want one?" asked the boy.
The professor replied, "The Runespoor has the unique ability to lay eggs in its mouths. These eggs have special properties, and it is for these properties that I desire to lay my hands on a Runespoor."
Draco tapped into his memories of Potions class. A Runespoor—a three headed serpent with black and orange markings. "Their eggs are used to stimulate mental agility, aren't they?"
"Precisely," said Snape. He slowed his walk; up ahead he could read the sign for Cerridwen's Karaoke Bar. Just beyond that was a pet store called Steve's Exotic Animal Emporium. A cacophony of wild and disturbing noises could be heard in the distance. Their unearthly vibrations sent a shiver down Draco's spine. He started to regret his decision in coming along, although looking back on it, Snape hadn't given him much of a choice.
"Can you keep secrets, Malfoy?" asked Snape.
Draco said thoughtfully, "It depends on how much I get paid."
"Ah, very good. Now, if we succeed in taking care of this Runespoor and keep it hidden from everyone else in the castle, we will be able to win back our glory from Gryffindor. I trust that will be payment enough for your silence."
Draco was beginning to catch on. Snape continued, "With the Runespoor's eggs, we can make enough potion for all of Slytherin House."
Draco interrupted, "But we don't need it! We can beat Gryffindor without any potions! They're lazy, ignorant bums!" 'Except for Hermione and Ginny,' he thought.
"I understand your pride, Malfoy. I feel the same way. But for the past four years, the House Cup has been handed over to Gryffindor when it rightly belonged to Slytherin. It's because Dumbledore is prejudiced against us. Perhaps he is getting senile in his old age. Who knows? I am merely evening out the playing field. There will be no way for Dumbledore to play favorites by the end of the year," declared Professor Snape. "We will destroy our competition. And Minerva McGonagall will learn she can't have everything she wants."
Draco couldn't help but admire his professor's ingenious plan. As Head of Gryffindor House, McGonagall had enjoyed the coveted House Cup for four years too many. But they were now ready to take action. This streak of injustice would not go on!
Snape quickened his footsteps, walking hurriedly past the karaoke bar. Draco followed suit with hands pressed tightly against his ears. A mild terror came over him just then as he identified the true source of the strange, infernal noises he'd been hearing. Morbid curiosity caused him to glance inside Cerridwen's Karaoke Bar as he passed by, but the windows—being covered in a deep layer of soot and grime—had long ago lost their transparency. Perhaps it was for the best. The two Slytherins quickly entered the pet store, which was (out of sheer necessity) enchanted with sound proof walls. Except for the occasional sweet call of an African Fwooper Bird, it was actually a very quiet space.
...to be continued
stay tuned for Chapter 6: Draco's Story