Hairy Potter-Addams and the Philosopher's Stone: An Altogether Ooky Tale

The Forbidden Forest

Harry was used to people whispering about him. He was, after all, a kooky sort of boy. He was "the" famous Harry Potter, he spoke with an American accent, he liked things that tended to frighten other children, and he was a sports legend on top of that. At first, it was a bit of an adjustment, but he got used to it.

This was quite different. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, he thought to himself as he quietly chewed his oatmeal the next morning. His eye kept straying to the large hourglass structure behind the high table where house point totals were kept. He watched the realization of Gryffindor's low point total make its way around the Great Hall.

By lunchtime, the rumors were in full force: Harry Potter, the hero of two Quidditch matches, the baseball star, that peculiar American, had all but destroyed Gryffindor's chances of beating Slytherin--him and a couple of other idiot first-years. By the time his last class let out, people were pointing and muttering just loudly enough for him to catch a few words here and there. Even Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws shot him dirty looks; they'd hoped to see the house cup snatched away from Slytherin. Talking thereof, everywhere Harry went, Slytherins clapped and whistled and thanked him.

This seemed to take quite a toll on Hermione. Not many of the girls were especially warm toward her anyway; now she was outright snubbed. Rather than answering questions in class, she kept her head down and worked away in silence. For the next couple of days, she couldn't even be seen in the library: she secluded herself in the girls' dormitory, out of public sight.

Ron was the most optimistic of them and did his best to cheer Hermione and Harry up. "Give it a few weeks, and they'll all forget. You see how much people like Fred and George, and you'll never guess how many points they've cost Gryffindor in their time here."

Harry didn't buy it. "But have they ever lost one hundred and fifty points in one go?"

"Uh, well, not exactly..."

Even Quidditch was tough. At practice, none of the other players spoke directly to Harry. If they had to refer to him, he was simply "the Seeker." Harry was in such miserable shape that he cornered Oliver after practice and offered to resign from the team.

"Are you mad?" he thundered. "What'll we do then? If we can't win at Quidditch, how can we win those points back?" So, reluctantly, Harry stayed.

Baseball was starting up again, and it wasn't much better. Neville was happy to--when nobody else was in the dormitory--talk strategy and training with Hairy. On the field, it was a different story. The rest of the team only listened to Neville. This wasn't a problem in and of itself. To the contrary, it gave Neville a much-needed boost of confidence. But balls that were thrown to Hairy seemed to go just a little wider than they needed to. When he was up to bat, a couple of Parvati's pitches came a bit close for comfort to his face or his nether regions, though he was never actually hit. If he got tagged out during a live play, he generally found himself in the dirt. Ron fared almost no better, though his brothers seemed to go a little easier on him than anyone else.

In short, it was shaping up to be a rough start to the season, and the first game with Hufflepuff was just a week away. In the meantime, Hairy vowed he was done poking around: No more mysteries, curiosities, questions, speculations, or other meddlesome activities for him.

Before he could worry about baseball, Quidditch, or exams, though, Harry had to deal with the looming unpleasantry of detention served with Draco Malfoy.

After supper that Thursday, the three Gryffindors met Filch at the back door of the castle. Draco sauntered up a few moments later. Filch eyed them and lit his lantern. "Follow me," he said, and he led them outside.

"Hagrid has need of you tonight," he informed them on the way down to Hagrid's hut. "After this, I'm sure you'll think twice about breaking a school rule...Pity they let the old punishments die out...pain is the best teacher if you ask me. This'll do. It's into the forest with you lot tonight."