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| | Chapter Twenty-Three: Elf Exposition! Gasp!All of the other students were getting up when Stephen entered the Hufflepuff common room No Hufflepuff tunes were resonating through the wood yet, so the sight of early-risers surprised him. He guessed that it made sense for so many students to get up early. They were probably just as eager as he was to escape the noise.
Instead of joining Larry and Eggs in the dormitory, he flopped down on a big, frumpy sofa by the fireplace, which seemed to burn magically. He was seeing a lot of fireplaces these days.
Stephen rubbed his temples. So the truth was out. The Headmaster was keeping him imprisoned here on orders from the Ministry. He kept wondering why, but he got this strange feeling that it had something to do with what had happened in the forest. What had happened in the forest? He tried to remember...
He could remember running... They were after him... They were keeping his name a secret for some reason, calling him 'SB'. But Shore had said that it didn't matter while he was at Hogwarts. If that was the case, then maybe they were trying to keep his name a secret from people outside of Hogwarts. That would explain...
Stephen's thoughts cleared instantly. Professor Gilmore had taken the memory charm off of his neck the morning after the sorting! If anyone could tell him what was going on, he could. But Charms wasn't until next week... What else? He dug into his memories, before Hogwarts, which had (amazingly) been only four days earlier. Buddy saved him from drowning when their boat capsized, but why did a magical boat capsize? And he had nearly died the day before in Diagon Alley... That night didn't seem to make sense either. Hagrid had said...
This is Barney the Badger saying, "Wake up, Hufflepuffs!"
A horrifying, friendly voice exploded into existence directly above Stephen's head. It sounded like a children's television mascot, only worse.
"Don't forget to brush your teeth and give all your Hufflepuff friends a BIIIIIIG HUG!"
The last of the early risers bolted for the door, giving Stephen a pitying look as they left.
"And now, a happy, happy Hufflepuff tune about asking your friends for help."
When you're down and feeling blue,
There's always friends who can help you.
You may believe that you're nothing but poo,
But lending a hand is what Hufflepuffs do.
La-lala-la-la, don't give up.
La-lala-la-la, please cheer up.
Don't be scared, it's an easy thing to do,
Ask your friends to help you get through.
Stephen asked himself why he was still listening and made his way up the log-carved steps to his rotating dormitory.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Maybe," thought Carol as she munched on a waffle. "The dragons had already started a fire inside the shop and there was some gunpowder nearby. That would explain the explosion."
Stephen had followed the cheery badger's advice and had started sharing in confidence with Eggs and Carol what had happened over the last week.
"I don't know," said Stephen, not having touched anything yet on his plate. "I don't remember seeing any fire before the explosion. I swear there was someone else in there."
"I don't think the Ministry would be doing anything wrong keeping you here," Eggs muttered, looking a little unsettled. "Maybe they're keeping you here for your protection."
Stephen snorted in disgust. He had nothing but distrust for authority at the moment, especially magical authority.
"No, that makes sense," said Carol, putting down her fork. "Maybe someone was there that night. Maybe someone has been trying to hurt you!"
"Oh, so I'm here because it's for my own protection, huh?"
"Precisely! Doesn't it seem odd that a magical boat malfunctions when it never has before, and dragons just happen to be there when you were in Diagon Alley at night."
"Hey, don't forget about the 'perfectly good' brooms that nearly killed me! It's been mortal peril practically every day."
"Well, Stephen, you could just be really bad at flying on broomsticks."
Eggs didn't say much. He had seemed a bit upset when Stephen reminded him of how he had ditched him at the inn. He just kept eating.
"I think I'm going to talk to Gilmore," Stephen decided. "He might be able to tell me why the Ministry thinks I'm so dangerous."
"Why would the Ministry think you were dangerous?" asked Carol. "I thought you were the one in danger."
Stephen hadn't told them about last night.
"Hey," Eggs interrupted suddenly. "What class do we have today?"
"Potions," said Carol. "With Professor Shore..."
"Oh, great," replied Eggs. He scratched his chin for a dramatic moment. "But why do I feel like there is something that I'm supposed to remember..."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Shore stood facing the window as the students shuffled in. He did not stir until they had all sat down.
"I am Shore, the Potions Master."
He let this settle in a bit. His eyes darted from one student to the other, his pose unwavering.
"I can teach you how to bottle dreams and cork fame. I can teach you how to stir the very core of reality. I can teach you how to find your center. But most importantly, I can teach you how to pass this class."
Stephen was glad that this class didn't require a wand. You know, because he HAD NONE.
"But before I begin, I have been required to make an announcement. From this day on, sharing one's wand with another student will no longer be permitted."
Stephen blinked. For a second, he thought that Shore had looked directly at him when he had said this, but he was looking at many other students. It was probably just his imagination.
They proceeded with the rest of the class. Shore kept glancing at Stephen, or at least it seemed this way to him, as if he was some sort of odd presence. It gave Stephen the impression that he wasn't welcome. They spent the rest of the day studying, far away from the Hufflepuff Common Room. Stephen's school workload was slowly overcoming his anxiety and curiosity about the night before.
Friday they had Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Potter, who was even more enthusiastic than ever about his books. Apparently, he was nearing the end of his seventh and final chronicle. He went off on a long-winded exposition of the book's plot, dramatically ending the tirade by posing the question: "Severus Snape: Friend or Foe?"
Carol, of course, felt like bringing up the fact that Snape was currently the Headmaster of the school and wondered if he could be liable for defamation charges. The professor suddenly experienced an incredible mood swing and was cranky for the rest of the day, yelling at the students for not 'understanding him'. Needless to say, they learned very little about the Dark Arts but a lot about Harry Potter's violent angst.
"Why should we have to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts if there isn't any Voldemort out there?" grunted Malfoy as they made their way outside.
"Because," explained Carol, who had yesterday answered all of Shore's Pop Quiz questions correctly. "You never know when the next Lord Voldemort is around the corner. Constant vigilance!"
"Whatever," muttered Stephen. "I could use some constant videogames right now."
"Mr. Bobbett!" came a faint whisper from behind a suit of armor. Stephen paused for a moment. He thought he recognized the voice.
"Hey, SB," said Eggs. "Wanna go do something outside?"
"Um..." said Stephen. "You guys go on ahead. I think I left my... pot... in potions."
"OK. Hey, Carol. Do they call it 'potions' because you use a pot-in class? Ooh, or maybe because you use 'potent' ingredi..."
There voices trailed off as Stephen turned expectantly towards the familiar big-eyed face on top of a small sailor suit. Buddy was peaking out from behind the suit of armor.
"I am here... Stephen Bobbett... to warn you."
"Warn me?" Stephen asked agitatedly. "What other impending dangers am I still unaware of? And... how do you know my name?"
Buddy's eyes grew wide. "I know many things, Mr. Bobbett. But I... (erk) -shouldn't say..."
Suddenly, his arms and legs all began to shake at once. His eyes darted left and right as if to look for some kind of relief. In a panicked frenzy, Buddy suddenly pulled from his pocket a small tape recorder, which, once pressed, played the serene sound of The Four Seasons. Slowly, Buddy's eyelids fell to a normal level and his stiff frame melted. With a soft 'click', Buddy returned the tape recorder to his pocket and looked back up at Stephen as if this was completely normal.
"Hehe, we House Elves have a tendency to be slightly masochistic, er, we tend to hurt ourselves when we are doing something we ought not to do. The music helps."
"I bet it does," Stephen stared incredulously at the creature. He was a real freak show alright, just like the rest of the lot.
"The point is," Buddy began again. "You're in danger here at Hogwarts, and it has to do with the toothbrush, Mr. Bobbett."
"What toothbrush? You keep talking about a toothbrush," Stephen asked.
"The one that is hidden somewhere... Ack! I cannot say it!" The elf clutched the side of his jacket but was able to retain himself. " (pant) All I can tell you... (pant) is what it is, and nothing more. I should have been back at Hogsmeade yesterday, but I stayed here because I needed to see you."
"Why?" Stephen asked, highly suspicious of everything that was being told to him after the night in the Forbidden Forest.
"Because, sir. The secret! The secret! You are the one... Oh! I cannot say!"
Five minutes of baroque passed.
"Just tell me about this stupid toothbrush," sighed Stephen after Buddy had removed himself from the lotus position.
"The toothbrush..." Buddy began. "... is a powerful magical artifact. It belonged to the Dark Lord himself. Yes, it was the toothbrush of Voldemort!"
Stephen looked up. For some reason, he subconsciously expected thunder.
"But it is no ordinary toothbrush," warned Buddy. "It contains powerful magic, just like all of the Dark Lord's precious items. It has a secret power of which I can not speak."
"Okay," Stephen had listened long enough. "But how does this have anything to do with me? I'm some Muggle kid whose been kidnapped. I've got nothing to do with this Voldemort guy."
Buddy's ears lifted slightly. "Ah, but did you not wonder WHY you have been brought here, why you've been treated like some sort of prisoner, like someone SPECIAL?"
Stephen took the use of this word to make him sound like the kid in preschool who ate paste.
"The toothbrush is the answer, Mr. Bobbett."
"Okay, whatever. You said I was in danger? From what?"
"Your life is in danger. Someone has already tried to take your life three times."
Something in Stephen's head clicked. Buddy was right. The fire, the boat, the broomstick... Those didn't seem like accidents at all! Was someone trying to kill him?
"Who?" Stephen asked furiously. "Who is trying to kill me?"
Buddy backed away cautiously, looking over his shoulder.
"No more questions. No more questions. I'll be at Hogsmeade. Just be aware, Mr. Bobbett. Pay attention for the signs, and you will slowly understand everything..."
Without another word, the elf had vanished as if he hadn't been there at all. Had he been there at all? Stephen looked down the hall and back toward the grounds outside. The vision of a toothbrush was all he had to cope with the terror of a killer at his back.
| | | Posted 9/25/2007 1:33 AM - 8 comments
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