Chapter 8  The Friend of My Enemy

 

When they left Hogwarts on the field trip, they had twenty students and two teachers... when they return, it is with four fewer people. Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and Pansy Parkenson... all children of Death Eaters... had turned their back on Snape at the earliest opportunity, forcing the Professor to leave them behind. And then, there was Arrowny, who did not make it back to the train through the underground passages from the prison.

 

The students are in a sombre mood... they all liked Arrowny... but, Harry knows the truth. He was the only one who saw the teacher standing over the slaughtered bodies, holding his blood covered sword. He alone saw the look of surprise on the teachers face when he was caught.

 

It is a quiet ride... and when they pull up to the station in Hogsmeade both Dumbledore and Hagrid are waiting for them. The half giant leads the majority of the students to the great hall, while the Headmaster takes Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione and Professor Snape to his office.

 

Dumbledore sits at his desk, hands folded in front of him, for a few moments before sighing loudly and turning to Snape.

 

“So... it really was the Death Eaters?”

 

Snape nods slowly...

 

“Yes... I’m afraid so. There were there looking for something. But... I had the odd impression that they were not expecting to find us.”

 

“They were after a statue.” All eyes turn to Harry as he speaks the words... barely above a whisper.

 

“Harry...” Dumbledore’s gentle voice in times of stress never ceases to amaze Harry... “What do you know?”

 

The young Gryffindor tells the gathered crowd what he saw transpire in the statue room with the Death Eaters... but leaves out the part about Arrowny dismembering a dozen or so royal guards. When the telling is over, Dumbledore turns to Snape.

 

“We must discover what is so important about that statue. Call in all of the old favours you are owed, Severus.”

 

The black robed professor nods. Harry looks at the people gathered in the room, and realizes that he’s going to have to tell them the truth about Arrowny sooner or later... and it might as well happen now.

 

“Excuse me... Professor Dumbledore?”

 

“Yes Harry... what is it?”

 

“Um... it’s... it’s about Arrowny, Sir.”

 

“Yes... I was wondering why he had not returned with the rest of you. I told him not to tell me the story until after he’d been tended to by Madam Pomfrey.”

 

Harry blinks his eyes a few times in confusion...

 

“You mean... he’s... he’s here? Now? In the school?”

 

As if in cue, the door to the Headmaster’s office bursts open, and the piercing voice of the school matron sounds out clearly through the room.

 

“Mister Arrowny! The Headmaster already told you to get a medical check-up before you see him!”

 

The young teacher stagers forward... sword in hand, clothes saturated with dry blood... and leans on the Headmaster’s desk. He nods to Snape, and then to Draco... and turns to Dumbledore.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

Harry jumps to his feet, wand drawn and trained on Arrowny.

 

“Professor! You have to lock Arrowny up in the dungeons!”

 

Dumbledore looks confused...

 

“Harry... what do you mean?”

 

“You can’t trust him, Sir.” He looks directly at the blood covered teacher... with a great deal of anger in his eyes. “I saw what you did to those guards.”

 

“Harry,” Arrowny sighs... “You have no idea what you saw.” Ryan gives a small nod to Professor Snape, who is standing behind Harry, before turning back to Dumbledore.

 

Snape snatches Harry’s wand right from his hand, and grabs the student by the back of the robes, dragging him out through the office doors. In fact, the teacher doesn’t let go of Harry’s robes until they are down the Gargoyle staircase, and halfway back to Gryffindor tower.

 

“Mister Potter, you WILL NOT speak of a Hogwarts teacher with such disrespect.” Snape quite literally throws Harry’s wand back at him.

 

“But, Professor!” Harry tries to plead with Snape... but he knows it won’t do him any good.

 

“But, NOTHING! You will return to your dormitory, and you will rest. This has been a very traumatic weekend... and we all need to recover.”

 

And then, with a flip of his black robes, Snape turns back down the hallway.

 

*        *        *        *        *        *

 

It has been a few weeks since the day they returned from the class trip... much had happened. Gryffindor won the first Quidditch game of the year over Slytherin... truth be told, it wasn’t so much a win as a slaughter (two hundred seventy to twenty). Harry has still yet to obtain the final ingredient to the spell for the Protector. There just doesn’t seem to be any of this particular item in the school.

 

Winter had started, just a few days ago, with a raging snow storm, which had luckily died out last night. Rather bad timing though... what with the sixth years chocobo races taking place in less than an hour. As Harry gazes out his dorm window, he can see Hagrid frantically trying to clear the deep snow from the race course. Only a handful of chocobos had been cleared to race by the gameskeeper... most had come down with a nasty cold during the storm... others where simply the victims of poor keeping... and of course, three of the poor animals no longer had a trainer.

 

Harry had spent a great deal of time over the weeks training Swift, partly because he wants to win the race, and partly to keep as far away from Mister Arrowny as was possible. He’d seen the teacher standing over the slaughtered guards... and he fears that Arrowny will want to silence the only witness to his crime.

 

He heads to the common room, meeting up with Ron and Hermione, before starting toward the Quidditch pitch, which will be the starting location for the race. After fighting their way through the rest of the students, all of whom are gathered to see their very first chocobo race, Harry and Ron finally end up at the far end of the pitch. As Hermione’s was one of the animals to come down with the nasty illness, she heads off to join the other Gryffindors in the spectator area.

 

Harry glances around at the other people whose animals were fit to race... and although he’d never say this to Ron, he’s pretty sure the race is going to be between Harry himself, and Draco Malfoy. Nobody else’s chocobo looks even remotely up to the task... but Draco’s, which he chose to name Shadow after one of the heroes they were learning about in History of Magic, looks as fit as Swift does... maybe more so. All in all, there are only six, out of an original forty, healthy chocobos in the race.

 

Each of the six students takes their seat atop the large animal, taking care to be sure they are securely fastened in the saddle. After a quick rundown of the rules from Hagrid, which basically are ‘don’t use magic’, they line up at the starting position. Harry, riding Swift, is on the far left, with Draco and Shadow on the far right. Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ron, Padme Patil, and Susan Bones were in between, but as Harry had thought, they would not be much competition.

 

“Ready?” Hagrid waits for a confirming nod from the racers...

 

“Set?” Last chance for any of them to back out... but with another nod, they tell him that they’re staying in the race.

 

The animals and riders tense up, waiting for the giant gameskeeper to give the signal... and like thunder, Hagrid’s booming voice rings out...

 

“GO!”

 

And they’re off.

 

Unlike a Quidditch game, there is no announcer shouting out above the crowd to tell you how you’re doing, but Harry doesn’t need one to know that he and Draco had quickly pulled to the head of the pack... far... far a head of the others. There’s just no question now... the race is between Harry and Draco.

 

Swift and Shadow quickly clear the tall stands of the Quidditch pitch, and Harry fights to get on the inside of the track as they take the sharp turn leading them toward the lake. As they circle around the lake, one of the giant squid’s flailing tentacles forces Harry and Swift to jump to the outside edge of the track, and they fall behind Draco and Shadow.

 

The race stays close as they come round the bend and through the narrow path between Greenhouse’s two and three... there’s only enough room for one Chocobo at a time, and Draco takes this as an opportunity to increase his lead... but Harry hasn’t given up yet.

 

They follow the track as it bends its way around the very edge of the castle, very near to the end of the cliff on which Hogwarts rests. As they approach a sharp, ninety degree right turn, Harry sees his chance to gain some ground on Draco. He’s been practicing a rather difficult move with Swift over the last few weeks, and he knows, from watching Draco train Shadow, that they can’t handle sharp turns that well.

 

Just as they come up to the turn, Harry pulls the reigns of his Chocobo tightly, giving the animal the signal to perform a spectacular turn. Swift jumps, extending its wings to help it keep control of its direction, and lands, on a thickly feathered section just above its thigh, on the partially frozen ground, skidding right in front of Draco and Shadow, who, as Harry had guessed, took the turn much to wide.

 

He’s now in the lead... not that it’ll do him much good... because Draco is making up ground FAST. Apparently, the time that Harry had spent training Swift to handle corners well, the Slytherin boy spent teaching Shadow to run very, very quickly in a straight line... and they just entered a straight away to the finish line.

 

Harry pushes Swift harder than he has during any of their training sessions. So hard, in fact, that he feels as though he’s going to be jolted off the back of the Chocobo as it bounds along. But, no matter how fast he goes, Draco keeps getting closer... and closer... but the finish line is just ahead. Harry urges Swift forward... faster...

 

The crowd cheers... a flash goes off from Collen Creevy’s camera just as two Chocobo beaks break the yellow tape of the finish line... and the race ends in a tie.

 

*        *        *        *        *        *

 

Harry feels quite uncomfortable right now. After the race, while the majority of the School held back to celebrate the good show and spend time with the Chocobos before they get sent back to where ever it is they came from, Harry and Draco were pulled aside by Dumbledore and, of all people, Arrowny, clutching the ever present Sky Render. They walk back toward the entrance hall, talking about the race. The Headmaster is quite impressed with the winning student’s ability to train creatures.

 

“I was quite breath taken with that little turning move you used, Harry,” Dumbledore’s tone is calm, despite the rather numerous disagreements he and Harry have had over the past weeks concerning Arrowny, “And Shadow’s speed was very impressive Draco. It’s obvious that you’ve both been paying close attention in Hagrid’s classes.”

 

Draco winces a little at this... feeling a little ashamed of how he used to treat the half-giant during his Care of Magical Creatures lessons.

 

“Hey, I like Hagrid as much as anybody,” Arrowny says, “but the fact is, that kind of learning won’t help you at all in the real world.”

 

Dumbledore chuckles...

 

“Perhaps... perhaps... but training creatures does allow a person’s true character to show through... wouldn’t you agree Draco?”

 

The young Slytherin nods, feeling a little better about himself. If he was able to train Shadow well, it must mean that he’s got some real good deep down inside himself.

 

“PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE!”

 

They turn just as they reach the steps to the entrance, and see a small first year Ravenclaw rushing toward them.

 

“Yes, child?”

 

“A... A man jumped out of the Forbidden Forest...” the out of breath student manages to say between deep gulps of air... “He’s... got an axe... and he’s threatening the other students!”

 

Arrowny doesn’t wait for any more information before sprinting away from the castle back toward the edge of the forest, drawing Sky Render as he runs. He sees, as he gets closer, that the students... each and every one of them with their wand drawn... have surrounded a tall, thin man holding, sure enough, a very large battle axe.

 

“DAMN KIDS!” The man has the flat of the blade held like a shield in front of him. Arrowny takes his chance as the man’s back is to him. He pushes the kids out of the way, raises his sword, and grabs the man’s shoulder, spinning him round. There’s a clank of metal on metal as axe meets sword.

 

“HEY!”

 

“HEY!”

 

“... hey?”

 

“Ryan?”

 

“Brad?”