Freaks: Year Two

The Hobbit Likes To Send People Into A Crisis

"Good morning."

Harry slowly opened his eyes to see the blurry face of Alabaster Jackson. He rubbed his eyes and blinked to see him standing in front of the hospital bed, journal in hand.

"Er...morning," Harry said.

"You were asleep for a long time," said Alabaster.

Harry stared up at him, confused. Was he just waiting for him to wake up? That was strange, but maybe he had just been bored and wanted someone to talk to. He slowly sat up. "Er, yeah...I guess so..."

"Are you feeling okay?"

Harry blinked slowly, his head still feeling heavy and cloudy. He was trying to remember what had happened and it slowly started to come back to him. The Forbidden Forest, Alabaster's owl, Andy Scott, Alabaster attacking her...the betrayal...no, that was a lie...it was a lie...forest...smoke...their short conversation...

Their short conversation, Harry remembered. The one where he had finally confessed he went to therapy. The one where he had been called weak. He looked over to Alabaster. If that was what he thought of him, why talk to him? Why did the Slytherin even want to have any contact with him if he thought he was weak?

"Fine," Harry replied shortly. He was not sure if he wanted to talk to Alabaster. It was quite obvious that he thought he was better than him and that raised the question of why the first year was talking to him. To taunt him? Harry was surprised he even wanted to talk to him after what he had confessed.

"That is good because you were asleep for a long time," Alabaster said.

"Right, you said that already."

Alabaster shrugged. "Will you be going to the quidditch game today?" Harry didn't answer so he continued, "It is between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and that means your friend is playing, yes? I assume you are rooting for your own house. Who should I root for? Am I allowed to root for both? Is that against the rules? Root...root is such an odd word. I may not be going. The games are quite loud. I assume you are going, will you let me know who wins?"

"Er...okay," Harry said.

Alabaster held out a book. "Your friend brought this for you."

Harry took the novel from Alabaster's hands. It was The Hobbit. Harry realised with everything that had been going on he never had gotten the chance to finish it, only around a hundred pages in. He opened it to the bookmarked page.

"What is it called?" asked Alabaster.

He showed him the cover of the book. The first year stared at it and slowly nodded, and Harry quickly said, "Sorry. I forgot. The Hobbit."

"Is it a good book?"

"From what I read so far, yeah."

"Why is it called The Hobbit?"

"Well, the main character is a hobbit," Harry answered.

"And what is a hobbit?"

"Well...as it says in the book," Harry started while flipping back the beginning, "The mother of our particular hobbit—what is a hobbit? I suppose hobbits need some description nowadays, since they have become rare and shy of the Big People, as they call us. They are (or were) a little people, about half our height, and smaller than the bearded Dwarves. Hobbits have no beards. There is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday sort which helps them to disappear quietly and quickly when large stupid folk like you and me come blundering along, making a noise like elephants which they can hear a mile off. They are inclined to be fat in the stomach; they dress in bright colours (chiefly green and yellow); wear no shoes, because their feet grow natural leathery soles and thick warm brown hair like the stuff on their heads (which is curly); have long clever brown fingers, good-natured faces, and laugh deep fruity laughs (especially after dinner, which they have twice a day when they can get it)."