The Boy Who Couldn't See: Year 2

The Rogue Bludger

TW: i mention people throwing up and harry's arm breaks in this chapter

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Ever since the pixie incident, Lockhart hasn't brought any more magical creatures into the class, and has instead just been reading passages from his books. He sometimes reenacts the passages and every time, he asks Harry to be his volunteer. Harry, normally, has no problem reminding Lockhart as politely as possible that he is blind and doesn't feel comfortable doing that, but in their next DADA class after Hermione and Ron figure out their plot, he finally says yes. After all, he may disapprove of their idea, but as he's involved in it, he might as well make it work.

He has to act like a werewolf. He almost leaves the classroom when Lockhart asks him to howl, but he manages. He stands by the door after class ends with a scowl on his face as he waits for Hermione and Ron to get the permission slip signed. This doesn't stop Lockhart from talking to him after he signs it, though.

"So, Harry," he calls across the classroom. Harry's scowl deepens. "Tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you're a useful player. I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players..."

Ron lets out a bark of laughter and shoves Harry out of the classroom.

"Let me go, Ronald, I swear to god, I'll punch him," Harry growls, struggling against Ron's grip.

"No, you won't," Ron says calmly. "Don't listen to him. I'll bet he's never even mounted a broom before."

"Less able players, who does he think he is?" Harry pushes Ron away and straightens his robes, giving a haughty sniff after he regains his composure. "If anything, it's him who's less able."

"Calm down, Malfoy," Ron says.

"Oh, piss off."

Within ten minutes, they're handed the book from Madam Pince and Harry finds himself sitting on the floor of Myrtle's bathroom and listening to Hermione talk about ingredients.

"Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass. Well, they're easy enough, they're in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves... Ooh, look, powdered horn of a bicorn — don't know where we're going to get that — shredded skin of a boomslang — that'll be tricky, too — and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into."

"Excuse me?" Ron cuts in, his voice sharp. "What d'you mean, a bit of whoever we're changing into? I'm drinking nothing with Crabbe's toenails in it —"

Hermione ignores him. "We don't have to worry about that yet, though, because we add those bits last..."

Harry rubs his temples. "D'you realize how much we're going to have to steal, Hermione? Shredded skin of a boomslang, that's definitely not in the students' cupboard. Are you actually suggesting we sneak into Snape's private cupboard? That's a worse idea than flying a car to Hogwarts."

Ron scoffs but it's drowned out by the loud snap of Hermione slamming the book shut.

"Well, if you two are going to chicken out, fine," she says. "I don't want to break rules, you know. I think threatening muggleborns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, I'll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in —"

"Normally, I would chicken out, because this is stupid," Harry cuts her off. The book collides with his thigh. He closes his eyes. "It's so stupid but... fine, we'll make the potion. Just make sure that the piece of Crabbe and Goyle you get is not a pube —"