Harry solemnly walked to his private lesson with Professor Yurn, thinking about all he had learned by hearing Dumbledore and Karkaroff’s conversation.
I’m not mad, I’m not mad, I’m not mad he kept repeating in his head, waiting for the feeling of comfort and content to arrive, but it never came.
Harry stepped into Professor Yurn’s enormous classroom. The only light in the room was from a candle on Professor Yurn’s desk.
“Ah, Harry, would you stand on that platform over there?” yelled Professor Yurn as Harry came in. Harry turned his head, and spotted a large grey platform in front of a snow-covered window. He stepped on the platform, wondering what the professor wanted him to do.
“Now,” Professor Yurn said, “let us begin.” A bow and a case of arrows appeared in Harry’s arms, and targets began popping up at random throughout the room.
The lesson progressed slowly, due to the fact that Harry was having loads of trouble on his aim. It didn’t help that Professor Yurn watched him from all angles, muttering to himself and taking notes on his notepad.
After the lesson, in which Harry only managed to hit three targets, he walked down to the common rooms. With a pang, he remembered that the common rooms at Hogwarts were segregated by house. As he walked, Harry couldn’t help thinking about the conversation again. It had become an old topic in Ron’s mind, but not in Harry’s.
The enigma was constantly bouncing around in the back of his head, causing him to think about it at the most unlikely of times. There was a question, however, that troubled him.
If Karkaroff put a memory charm on all the Hogwarts students, how come it didn’t affect me? Why am I “special”? He sighed. Like he was going to find out.
Harry must have looked puzzled and frustrated as he entered the cozy, warm common room, because Ron asked, “Are you okay? Do you need butterbeer?”
“No, just a bit....you know.......,” Harry mumbled.
“Shaken up after a horrible lesson?” Ron asked, laughing, “Don’t worry, that happens to me every time.”
“Yeah,” Harry responded, “I think that’s what happened. Isn’t it time we ought to go to bed?”
Harry woke up to see Ron still asleep. He got up to Ron’s bed and violently shook him awake. “Whaaa.........” Ron mumbled.
“RON WEASLEY,” bellowed Harry, sounding like Molly Weasley.
“HARRY?!?!?!?!” Ron yelled, looking exasperated when he saw Harry standing over his four-poster bed.
“It’s time to go to classes, Ron.” Harry said.
“Okay, Okay,” Ron replied, “give me a minute to at least get dressed.”
“Let’s go eat,” said Ron as he passed the Great Chamber. Harry looked at him. His mouth was open and his eyes were fixed hungrily on the feast.
“All right, all right,” Harry gave in, “but we’re going to be late for Prof. Kroshi’s if we eat our usual load.”
“Don’t worry we won’t,” said Ron, rushing toward the food.
“Hurry up, though,” Harry yelled after him. He groaned as he saw Ron sit down with a fork and knife, scooping piles of toast, eggs, bacon, sausages, and pancakes onto his plate.
“mmmm,” Ron tried to say, his mouth stuffed with the remains of the feast. Harry decided that he would go to Prof. Kroshi’s without Ron. Detention would not help his mood. He quickly grabbed his bags and made a dash for the door. “Ditcher!” Ron yelled after him, bits of spitty egg flying out of his mouth.
Ron appeared in the classroom several minutes later, ketchup lining his mouth and chin. “Um....” Prof. Kroshi muttered, “ go wash up in the bathroom.” Ron groaned, and, staring daggers at Harry, left the room.
Harry snorted under his breath as he watched Ron go, thinking about how much Hermione would disapprove. How badly he wished she were here! If only Hogwarts........ Hogwarts. The one memory he would always hold on to, no matter what the others said. He remembered Hogwarts and all his years there....so why would it vanish now?
“Mr. Potter, how many times do I have to ask you? How do you know where to throw a dagger if you can’t see the enemy?” This brought Harry to his senses. “ Um......” he said, seeing that Ron was back in the room and smirking at him, “ wave the dagger around and hope you hit the enemy?????”
Prof. Kroshi sighed. Class dismissed. Your homework is to write a 20-inch essay on why Mr. Potter’s answer is wrong. Everyone groaned and left the room. Only Ron waited for him at the doorway. “ The early bird gets the worm,” he said.
“Wrong line to use,” Harry replied. “Whatever,” Ron smirked, “hurry up.” The two boys trudged down the halls to their next class.
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