Adventures of Harriet Potter

Detention with Delores

Dinner in the Great Hall that night was not a pleasant experience for Harriet. The news about her shouting match with Umbridge seemed to have traveled exceptionally fast even by Hogwarts standards. She heard whispers all around her as she sat eating between Ron and Hermione. The funny thing was that none of the whisperers seemed to mind her overhearing what they were saying about her — on the contrary, it was as though they were hoping she would get angry and start shouting again, so that they could hear her story firsthand. "She says she saw Cedric Diggory nearly get murdered . . ." said one girl to another. "She reckons she dueled with You-Know-Who . . ." the other girl said. "Come off it . . ." another girl said with a snorted. "Who does she think she's kidding?" a boy said incredulously. "Pur-lease . . ." the first girl said rolling her eyes.
"What I don't get," said Harriet in a shaking voice, laying down her knife and fork (her hands were trembling too much to hold them steady), "is why they all believed the story two months ago when Dumbledore told them . . ." Struggling to not adjust herself as her bubbies were uncomfortable. "The thing is, Harriet, I'm not sure they did," said Hermione grimly. "Oh, let's get out of here." She slammed down her own knife and fork; Ron looked sadly at his half-finished apple pie but followed suit. People stared at them all the way out of the Hall. "What d'you mean, you're not sure they believed Dumbledore?" Harriet asked Hermione when they reached the first-floor landing. "Look, you don't understand what it was like after it happened," said Hermione quietly. "You arrived back in the middle of the lawn clutching Cedric's full body bind bound body. . . . None of us saw what happened in the maze. . . . We just had Dumbledore's word for it that You-Know-Who had come back and nearly killed Cedric and fought you."
"Which is the truth!" said Harriet loudly. "I know it is, Harriet, so will you please stop biting my head off?" said Hermione wearily. "It's just that before the truth could sink in, everyone went home for the summer, where they spent two months reading about how you're a nutcase and Dumbledore's going senile!" Rain pounded on the windowpanes as they strode along the empty corridors back to Gryffindor Tower. Harriet felt as though her first day had lasted a week, but she still had a mountain of homework to do before bed. A dull pounding pain was developing over her right eye. She glanced out of a rain-washed window at the dark grounds as they turned into the Fat Lady's corridor. There was still no light in Hagrid's cabin.
"Mimbulus mimbletonia," said Hermione, before the Fat Lady could ask. The portrait swung open to reveal the hole behind and the three of them scrambled back through it. The common room was almost empty; nearly everyone was still down at dinner. Crookshanks uncoiled himself from an armchair and trotted to meet them, purring loudly, and when Harriet, Ron, and Hermione took their three favorite chairs at the fireside he leapt lightly into Hermione's lap and curled up there like a furry ginger cushion. Harriet gazed into the flames, feeling drained and extremely exhausted. "How can Dumbledore have let this happen?" Hermione cried suddenly, making Harriet and Ron jump; Crookshanks leapt off her, looking affronted. She pounded the arms of her chair in fury, so that bits of stuffing leaked out of the holes. "How can he let that terrible woman teach us? And in our O.W.L. year too!"
"Well, we've never had great Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, have we?" said Harriet. "You know what it's like, Hagrid told us, nobody wants the job, they say it's jinxed." She was starting to believe it herself at this point. "Yes, but to employ someone who's actually refusing to let us do magic! What's Dumbledore playing at?" As Harriet discreetly adjusted her bra while nobody was looking. "And she's trying to get people to spy for her," said Ron darkly. "Remember when she said she wanted us to come and tell her if we hear anyone saying You-Know-Who's back?"
"Of course she's here to spy on us all, that's obvious, why else would Fudge have wanted her to come?" snapped Hermione. "Don't start arguing again," said Harriet wearily, as Ron opened his mouth to retaliate. "Can't we just . . . Let's just do that homework, get it out of the way . . ." They collected their schoolbags from a corner and returned to the chairs by the fire. People were coming back from dinner now. Harriet kept her face averted from the portrait hole, but could still sense the stares she was attracting. "Shall we do Snape's stuff first?" said Ron, dipping his quill into his ink. "'The properties . . . of moonstone . . . and its uses . . . in potion-making . . .'" he muttered, writing the words across the top of his parchment as he spoke them. "There." He underlined the title, then looked up expectantly at Hermione.
"So what are the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making?" Ron asked. But Hermione was not listening; she was squinting over into the far corner of the room, where Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were now sitting at the center of a knot of innocent-looking first years, all of whom were chewing something that seemed to have come out of a large paper bag that Fred was holding. "No, I'm sorry, they've gone too far," she said, standing up and looking positively furious. "Come on, Ron."
"I — what?" said Ron, plainly playing for time. "No — come on, Hermione — we can't tell them off for giving out sweets . . ." Harriet groaned as this was not helpful, especially when she felt like she was going to throw up. "You know perfectly well that those are bits of Nosebleed Nougat or — or Puking Pastilles or —" said Hermione. "Fainting Fancies?" Harriet suggested quietly. One by one, as though hit over the heads with invisible mallets, the first years were slumping unconscious in their seats; some slid right onto the floor, others merely hung over the arms of their chairs, their tongues lolling out. Most of the people watching were laughing; Hermione, however, squared her shoulders and marched directly over to where Fred and George now stood with clipboards, closely observing the unconscious first years. Ron rose halfway out of his chair, hovered uncertainly for a moment or two, then muttered to Harriet, "She's got it under control," before sinking as low in his chair as his lanky frame permitted.
"That's enough!" Hermione said forcefully to Fred and George, both of whom looked up in mild surprise. "Yeah, you're right," said George, nodding, "this dosage looks strong enough, doesn't it?" Harriet agreed, seeing the results for herself. "I told you this morning, you can't test your rubbish on students!" said Hermione indignantly. "We're paying them!" said Fred indignantly.
"I don't care, it could be dangerous!" Hermione said in exasperation. "Rubbish," said Fred. "Calm down, Hermione, they're fine!" said Lee reassuringly as he walked from first year to first year, inserting purple sweets into their open mouths. "Yeah, look, they're coming round now," said George. A few of the first years were indeed stirring. Several looked so shocked to find themselves lying on the floor, or dangling off their chairs, that Harriet was sure Fred and George had not warned them what the sweets were going to do. "Feel all right?" said George kindly to a small dark-haired girl lying at his feet. "I-I think so," she said shakily. "Excellent," said Fred happily, but the next second Hermione had snatched both his clipboard and the paper bag of Fainting Fancies from his hands.
"It is NOT excellent!" she said insistently. "'Course it is, they're alive, aren't they?" said Fred angrily. "You can't do this, what if you made one of them really ill?" asked Hermione, crossing her arms as she attempted to stare him down. "We're not going to make them ill, we've already tested them all on ourselves, this is just to see if everyone reacts the same —" George said calmly. "If you don't stop doing it, I'm going to —" started Hermione. "Put us in detention?" said Fred in an I'd-like-to-see-you-try-it voice. "Make us write lines?" said George, smirking. Onlookers all over the room were laughing. Hermione drew herself up to her full height; her eyes were narrowed and her bushy hair seemed to crackle with electricity. "No," she said, her voice quivering with anger, "but I will write to your mother."
"You wouldn't," said George, horrified, taking a step back from her. "Oh, yes, I would," said Hermione grimly. "I can't stop you eating the stupid things yourselves, but you're not giving them to first years." Fred and George looked thunderstruck. It was clear that as far as they were concerned, Hermione's threat was way below the belt. With a last threatening look at them, she thrust Fred's clipboard and the bag of Fancies back into his arms and stalked back to her chair by the fire.
Ron was now so low in his seat that his nose was roughly level with his knees. "Thank you for your support, Ron," Hermione said acidly. "You handled it fine by yourself," Ron mumbled. Hermione stared down at her blank piece of parchment for a few seconds, then said edgily, "Oh, it's no good, I can't concentrate now. I'm going to bed." She wrenched her bag open; Harriet thought she was about to put her books away, but instead she pulled out two misshapen woolly objects, placed them carefully on a table by the fireplace, covered them with a few screwed-up bits of parchment and a broken quill, and stood back to admire the effect.
"What in the name of Merlin are you doing?" said Ron, watching her as though fearful for her sanity. "They're hats for house-elves," she said briskly, now stuffing her books back into her bag. "I did them over the summer. I'm a really slow knitter without magic, but now I'm back at school I should be able to make lots more." Harriet wanted to groan again. "You're leaving out hats for the house-elves?" said Ron slowly. "And you're covering them up with rubbish first?"
"Yes," said Hermione defiantly, swinging her bag onto her back. "That's not on," said Ron angrily. "You're trying to trick them into picking up the hats. You're setting them free when they might not want to be free." A surge of nausea hit Harriet at that moment, forcing her to clap a hand to her mouth. "Of course they want to be free!" said Hermione at once, though her face was turning pink. "Don't you dare touch those hats, Ron!" She left. Ron waited until she had disappeared through the door to the girls' dormitories, then cleared the rubbish off the woolly hats.
"They should at least see what they're picking up," he said firmly. "Anyway . . ." He rolled up the parchment on which he had written the title of Snape's essay. "There's no point trying to finish this now, I can't do it without Hermione, I haven't got a clue what you're supposed to do with moonstones, have you?"
Harriet shook her head exasperatedly, noticing as she did so that the ache in her right temple was getting worse. She thought of the long essay on giant wars and the pain stabbed at her sharply. Knowing perfectly well that she would regret not finishing her homework tonight when the morning came, she piled her books back into her bag. "I'm going to bed too." she said. She passed Lavender on the way to the door leading to the dormitories, but did not look at her. Harriet had a fleeting impression that Lavender had opened her mouth to speak, but sped up, and reached the soothing peace of the stone spiral staircase without having to endure any more provocation.