Say Hello To A Dead Dream [Hiatus]

Answering Calls

•BOY-WHO-DIED A HUFFLEPUFF?!•
By Sarah MgGee
We, at the Daily Prophet, were shocked to hear from an anonymous, but very reliable source, that Hadrian Regulus Potter-Black was sorted into Hufflepuff! Yes, that's right, the infamous boy-who-died is a badger. The great and noble house of Hufflepuff is known for hardworking and loyal wizards. It was also the house of my dearest husband. So, I have all the reason to be concerned about his placement. Why is Potter-Black in Hufflepuff? What is he so dedicated to? Could it be loyalty to his father, Sirius Orion Black, who currently resides in Azkaban, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Or perhaps he will work to avenge his other father, James Fleamont Potter. Whichever the case, once Rita Skeeter is over her cold, she'll find out!

Above is the article passed to Blackie the next morning when he came down for breakfast. He wasn't sure who gave it to him, he wasn't paying attention to that. His thoughts were going wild.

'Is this good? Is it bad? At least I'm on the second page... Wait till they hear about yesterday. It was smart of the source to keep quiet. I suppose I should just pretend not to notice. I might be dedicated to either of my fathers? That's good, I hope the Skeeter woman keeps that.'

Now he pretended to be just another student, nothing abnormal other than he wasn't talking to anyone. He could feel his heart pound in his chest. But today he wasn't sure why. He looked up to the High Table on a whim, and his scar hurt. Hurt may not have been the right word for it... It felt like his skin was being torn open and restitched rapidly and it hurt, dammit! Blackie tore his eyes from a burgundy turban.

'He left in a hurry.'

"I do not expect many of you to understand the subtleties that build the allure of potion making. However, I will try my best to teach those of you who are not blithering idiots. Malfoy!" called Snape, "What would I get if I combined monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"They are the same plant professor. It has a third name, aconite, so you may be looking for that."

"Ten points to Slytherin! Longbottom, what would you find in the stomach of a goat if you wanted to heal your friend? If you, by some miracle, had one."

   Blackie let a small smirk take his lips for a moment. This class was proving entertaining.

   Neville Longbottom swallowed. "I... I don't know professor."

"Two points from Gryffindor. Potter-Black, what are the two ingredients in the draught of living death?"

   Oh. That wasn't fun. He'd never even heard of the potion. "Um... Roots? And water. Definitely water. Probably heat...?"

   The professor stared at him blankly, then the look changed to anger. "Are you making a mockery of me? Are you insulting my class? I will not stand for your disrespect. Fifteen points from Hufflepuff. You will leave the classroom, and may rejoin us again next time. Now out!"

   Oh. He had just lost his house a ton of points. Oops. And made a scene while at it! He was an idiot. Might as well go for a walk, because he certainly wasn't going back in there today. The portraits were still taking extra notice of him... None of them said much though.

"Gah! Watch where you're... going?"

   "Oh! Is it an ickle firstie? Hello little kid! Did you know they hang the firsties by their toes for a punishment? Here, I'll show you!" The... being of what genre Harry what not sure of reached out to grab him.

  "Who-What are you?" He managed to get out before it could make contact.

"I'm Peeves, your poltergeist friend! All of the mischief in the school doesn't stand up to mine!"

"Wait... Does that mean you're the embodiment of teenage rebellion? Woah, no wonder your like that. I mean, lots of hormones, lots of sexual tension, I suppose if this is a magic school it must have come out magically... That's got to suck. Ummm.... My condolences. I must be on my way now, but if you'd like a counseling session I can probably arrange that..."

   Poor Harry. He had no way of knowing that trying to understand Peeves would turn around and bite him in the arse.

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   Weirdly enough, I have less time to write than before, even though I'm stuck in my house. Well.