Harry Potter and the Eyes of the Dragon

Chapter II: Muggle Studies




It was Friday night, and the Gryffindor Quidditch Team was only hours away from their first game of the season against the Slytherins. Harry looked up to the ceiling of the Great Hall and sighed at the sight of the grey sky.


‘Lovely day to play Quidditch tomorrow, eh Harry?’, said Ron with a voice that indicated he didn’t believe what he was saying himself.


They both flinched as a loud thunder rang above their gaze.


‘The Daily Prophet prognosticated a thunderstorm for the whole weekend’, commented Hermione. ‘I don’t understand why can’t you play some other day instead. Why do you all insist on risking yourselves and playing on the least suitable conditions for a Quidditch match. I’m telling you, one of these days someone is going to get hit by a lightning; especially you, Ron, being around the goalposts the whole time…’


‘It amazes me how optimistic you always are, ‘Mione. You sure know how to cheer people up’, said Ron sarcastically.


Harry’s gaze turned towards the Slytherin table, where Malfoy sat prideful at the head as the true leader he was. For an instant he looked up from his food and their stares locked. Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Harry and he broke the invisible connection shaking his head. When Harry raised his head again, Malfoy was back eating and talking with his fellow Slytherins.


‘Harry!’, yelled Ron in his ear.


‘What?’, he asked annoyed rubbing his ear with his hand.


‘I asked if you were going to eat those potatoes or just move them around.’


‘Oh… take them, I’m not hungry.’


He passed his plate to Ron, who accepted it beaming and dived in. Hermione looked at Harry worriedly. He looked tired and absent, his head resting on his hand, staring at the white fabric which covered the oak house table.


‘You should really eat something, Harry’, she told him trying to catch his eyes. ‘If you’re playing tomorrow, you’re going to need all the strength you can possibly get.’


‘Hermione, I’m fine. You worry too much.’


‘I don’t know, Harry. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You look like a rachitic skeleton!’


‘Gi’im a brae’, ‘Mio’e’, said Ron with a mouthful of baked potatoes.


‘Ronnie… swallow. Thanks’, said Hermione with faked sweetness.


Supper ended before Hermione could manage to get Harry to eat a single pea. He could be really stubborn sometimes, and even if he had been starving, he wouldn’t have tasted a thing just to contradict her.


When they went up to the common room they found a note on the news board for all of those seventh years who took Muggle Studies. It informed the next class would be held on the fourth floor at a rarely used classroom to watch a film.


‘I thought muggle artefacts didn’t work here, at Hogwarts’, said Harry after reading the note.


‘They don’t. It’s probably just a charmed projector or something.’


‘Hey, Harry. I don’t know about you, mate, but I am going to bed. Goodnight.’


Ron gave them an elegant bow and walked away to the boy’s rooms. Hermione told him she was pretty tired herself and left Harry alone in the common room, from where he left immediately, before his worries and dark thoughts about the past decided to go and make him company.



***



The cheers of the crowd got to Harry’s ears as he entered the Quidditch field making his heart thump in anticipation. Both teams walked to the centre of the pitch where Madam Hooch awaited to remember them to play nice, release the four balls and blow her whistle for the game to begin. Dean Thomas had replaced Lee Jordan after he graduated, but he also complemented the Gryffindor players every time he could, as a sort of legacy from Lee.


Harry was very high up on the stormy sky, doing his best to spot the snitch somewhere amidst the thick, impenetrable rain. He jumped after a loud thunder broke in his ears.


‘Careful, Potter’, a familiar drawl spoke behind him. ‘It would be a real tragedy if you fell from your broom.’


‘Shut up, Malfoy!’


Draco flew past him and turned to face his nemesis. His blonde hair was soaked, falling on his eyes and framing his face, where his trademark smirk grew along with Harry’s hate.


‘What’s wrong, Potty? Are you afraid I might accidentally knock you off?’


‘You wish’, Harry answered heatedly.


Malfoy flew toward him unexpectedly and Harry only managed to stay on his broom by making a last minute movement. His heartbeat fastened, same as his breathing. He heard Malfoy laughing mischievously.


‘Are you out of your fucking mind?!’, Harry yelled. His words only made Malfoy laugh even harder. ‘Get out of my sight before I…’


‘Before you what, Potter? What would you do to me if I didn’t?’, he asked challengingly.


‘Before I kill you with my bare hands’, said Harry, his voice full of loathing.


Malfoy grinned again. ‘I would like to see you try’, he said. ‘But no matter how much I’m enjoying myself, I’ve got a snitch to catch. Maybe some other time.’


With that said, he flew away. Harry stopped seeing him quickly due to the rain, but he could still hear the blonde’s laugh as he left him in peace at last. He decided he should go fly around because, unless the snitch suddenly passed by him, he would never get it before Malfoy did.


He heard Dean’s amplified voice above the roar of the crowd and the constant sound of the rain yelling ‘Penalty! That was a very rough move against the Gryffindor chaser, Ginny Weasley! Weasley scores! The match is tied 50-50!’


Harry saw a golden spark near the ground and dived immediately after it. He saw Malfoy following him as soon as he realized Harry had seen the snitch, and they ended up racing behind it. They looked at each other for a second with fire in both stares, and then back to the snitch. They were only inches away from it, both seekers stretching their right arm, almost tasting victory. Harry saw the snitch move its wing slightly to a side and guessed it was about to turn left, so he hoped with all his might to be doing the right thing and changed the course of his flying. He saw Malfoy’s expression change from triumphant to enraged as he saw the tiny ball escape from his fingertips
and fall neatly onto Harry’s palm.


‘I cannot believe my eyes! That was the most incredible catch I’ve ever seen, even for Harry Potter! The game is over, witches and wizards! Gryffindor wins 200 to 50 over Slytherin!’


The crowd went crazy. Ron lifted Harry over his shoulders and walked him around whilst the rest of the team cheered him.



***



The Gryffindor common room was never as loud as the nights after a Quidditch victory over Slytherin. That night, Harry was treated like the greatest hero on Earth, and even though he liked it sometimes, he didn’t want to get that much attention. Every time he could, he’d try to slip out of the room, or at least out of the worshiping housemates grip; but he rarely got so lucky.


The noise coming from the tower was strident enough to camouflage the ear-splitting thunders that rang on the outside. The rain was like a background sound to the party they were throwing, and no one heard the clicking on the window a certain Hogwarts’ owl was making with its beak.


Harry had finally escaped a group of giggling third-year girls who kept blushing and telling him how great he was, and was currently seated in a corner with Ron and Hermione.


‘I can’t believe he tried to knock you off your broom!’, screamed Hermione in horror.


‘Why can’t you? It’s Malfoy, remember? The prick’s only porpoise in life is to make Harry miserable!’, yelled Ron. ‘Have you forgotten about the time he disguised as a Dementor to make Harry faint? Of course, he had no idea he was dealing with the best Patronus caster I know, eh, Harry?’. He elbowed his friend and they all laughed as they remembered what had happened.


‘Excuse me, Harry?’, said a shy first-year girl.


Harry looked up at her and she blushed.


‘A… a letter, for you’, she handed him a small note the owl had left.


Harry took the small roll of parchment and opened it. It just said one word, but it was the only one that could’ve made him forget all sorts of happiness and funny anecdotes and replace them with concern.


‘What’s it that supposed to mean?’, said Ron, who was looking over his shoulder at the note. ‘Hiss?’


‘I don’t know’, lied Harry. He really didn’t want to tell Ron and Hermione about what had happened the day before, by the lake. He was sure they’d both freak out and Hermione would tell him to go to Dumbledore.


‘It’s probably just a Slytherin prank’, said Hermione nonchalantly. ‘They’re just angry about the Quidditch match. And I must say, even they could’ve done better.’


‘You’re right. They’re such a big bunch of idiots!’, said Ron. ‘But if they want war, we’ll give them one!’


‘Oh, God… Harry, say something to him to make him get back to his senses’, pleaded Hermione, knowing thoroughly how Ron could be when it came to their most hated Hogwarts’ House.


‘Ron. Have you see a signature in the note or something? Besides, even if it were from them, it’s just a stupid note.’


‘It’s not about the note itself, Harry’, replied Ron. ‘This is about House pride! This is about years and years of taunting and fighting.’


‘And what are you actually proposing, Ron? To drop a bomb in the dungeons? Is that what you want?’


‘I never said that, although it sounds very appealing’, Ron grinned. ‘We could buy something from Fred and George’s store. Maybe put a swamp at the entrance of their common room…’


‘Ron, you could get expelled for doing such a thing! And even if you didn’t, Filch would kill you’, said Hermione. ‘Listen to me. I’ll only say it once more. They’re. Not. Worthy.’



***



On Monday, Hermione went up to the fourth floor to watch “Toy Story”, just like the note on the news board said she should. The hallways were empty as she walked threw them, since that area of the castle was rarely used, yet, for some reason, she felt as though she was being watched. She blamed the strange feeling of paranoia to the fact that there were portraits on the walls bringing back to life to those long ago gone.


Her attention was drawn by a specific painting of a dragon, whose penetrating grey eyes were fixed on her, following her every move. She wished she could get out of the dragons’ sight, but she had already reached the classroom she was looking for, which was still closed because she had arrived too early. She sat on the floor and took a thick book out of her bag for some ‘light reading’ until Professor Terepee got there and let her in.


She had only read three paragraphs of Merlin’s biography when she looked over her book and her gaze met the dragon’s once again.


‘What are you looking at?’, Hermione mouthed.


‘You do realize it won’t answer you, don’t you?’, came a drawl she recognized instantly.


‘How do you do that?’, she asked Malfoy. ‘How do you suddenly appear when you’re least expected?’


‘I have a radar for stupid behaviour. It’s a pretty useful gift, I might add’, he replied with air of superiority.


Hermione opened her mouth to snap back at him, someway, but she closed it again after not finding what to say quickly enough.


‘What’s wrong, Granger? Did your cat ate your tongue, finally?’, he grinned.


‘No, I just think it’s a waste of time talking to you. So if you don’t mind…’, she gestured with her book and returned to her reading.


She did her best to concentrate, but now she had not one, but two pairs of eyes on her. Fortunately, Professor Terepee arrived soon enough and so did the rest of the class.


Just as she had guessed, there was a magically arranged projector in the middle of the classroom. Eight chairs had been set in front of the screen: one for the Professor and the other seven for the three Ravenclaws, the two Hufflepuffs and the single Slytherin and Gryffindor, who sat predictably apart.


Once the film had ended, they discussed it and got to the same conclusions they had gotten to the class before; human kind fear the unknown, that’s why secrecy is so important for the wizarding community.


Before the bell rang, Professor Terepee informed them she’d match them to work on an assignment she had prepared. Hermione’s prayers didn’t seem to get to Merlin’s ears, and she restrained herself from yelling when she heard her name along with Malfoy’s.

‘Isn’t there any other way to arrange the work groups?’, Malfoy asked a little bit too loudly to sound polite.


‘NO!’, the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs immediately exclaimed, after being matched with their housemates and not wanting to be with Malfoy, in particular.


‘Sorry, Mr. Malfoy. You and Miss Granger will just have to overcome your differences. Besides, she doesn’t seem to be complaining that much’, she said.


‘That’s because she’ll hurl if she dares to open her mouth’, he said.


No matter how much she tried not to, a small laugh escaped Hermione’s throat but managed to turn it into a cough.


‘You do look a little pale’, said Justin Finch-Fletchley, who sat next to her.


‘I’m fine, or at least for now…’, she said, thinking about the hours she’s have to spend alone with Malfoy.