A Little Devil at Hogwarts (Follow-up to Harry Potter - Hellion)

 

The days passed on, with numerous skirmishes between the Headmistress and Harry. Most of the new students quickly forgot the need for a wand, even those that had several years of training with one, as they could see with their own eyes the power gained by letting go of the stick. Harry continued to teach Magic his own way, and rapidly brought his students well beyond first year or, for that matter, NEWTS level. The first few months were focussed solely on meditation and physical training, followed by hand-to-hand combat. By the end of October, they began simple Magic, such as transforming a piece of rock into a coin or lifting a penny and sending it flying over the place. To train the young mages’ stamina, he had them manipulate pebbles on their hand, then up in the air, and finally, fly around them. Once the exercise was mastered, he had them use bigger pebbles.

"That way, your magical ‘muscle’ will gain strength. The more mass you can handle, the more powerful your ‘muscle’ is. By having you move it in a circle, you not only gain power, but precision. When we get to magical things such as porting mass through space both are required."

Minerva kept insisting on wands, but noticed that the exercises she asked in class were more and more done without even a word being said by the students, much less the use of a wand. She felt outclassed even by first years!

Early mornings, just before dawn, were spend in intense physical exercises, followed by a shower, and an hour of meditation, then breakfast. The House Elves noticed they needed to produce more food than usual for the day’s meals, mostly high carbohydrate-contents food.

Some students, even first years, were stuck in the mud and refused to involve themselves with Harry’s lessons, thus staying stuck with the old ways. One of those was Ronald Weasley, whose aggressive behavior knew no bounds. He could not miss an occasion to irritate Harry, and regularly attacked his friends either verbally or physically, as he had yet to master a single wand-based spell. Even Wingardium Leviosa, a very basic spell, kept escaping him because he could not say the spell correctly, and he handled his wand brashly. At some point, by sheer luck, he managed to lift a statue of Gryffindor to the roof but then lost his focus, and said statue, weighing several tons, came crashing down on the castle’s roof, passed through seven floors to end up in a classroom in the castle’s dungeons, a classroom that had just been vacated by students and teachers. That earned him a detention from Slughorn, the replacement teacher of potions at Hogwarts, a detention Ronald fought tooth and nail until Minerva called on his mother and told her he either took the detention, whose duration had been doubled to two months, or he would get expelled.

The meeting between Minerva and the overly overprotective mother of the Red Head invasion, one Molly Weasley, had been memorable by its verbal violence; only the presence of Arthur as moderator kept Minerva and Molly from coming to blows, either physically or via spell exchange.

"And who provoked Ron into attacking?" thundered Molly, in a shrieking voice that shook the windows of the castle even if the Headmistress’ office was on the eight floor, at the top of the tallest tower. Even the birds wintering in the Forbidden Forest flew off in a flurry of activity to move away from the edge!

"No one. He was simply put off because he could not do a simple spell and put in all he had into lifting that statue of Gryffindor to prove himself. Prove himself, he did! He proved how stupid he was to everyone!" said Slughorn.

"You, shut up! You were not even there!"

"No, just at the receiving end of his ballistic test! Ronald needs to learn how to manage his emotions or he will never amount to much."

"Sending that statue flying is not much, according to you? What do you need?"

"If he had sent it flying under controlled conditions, I would agree. But ask him to lift a feather, and he can not even make it move!" Professor Flitwick replied with his high-pitched voice.

"You midget better shut up too!"

Flitwick had enough and in a flick of his wand, send Molly flying against the back wall.

"I will no longer tolerate Mister Ronald Weasley in my classes. As of now, he is expelled from them! He is too ill-tempered to even listen to help when some fellow student tries to give him pointers."

"I have to add my own displeasure to what Flitwick says. He has no patience whatsoever in the Potion laboratory, and keeps throwing tantrums worthy of a 2-year old. He botches his preparations, refuses to follow instructions, mixes the order of ingredients, wants things to go faster and rough-handles just about everything he touches. During the last potion laboratory, he almost poisoned every classmate in the room. Had Harry not done something, we would all be dead!"

"What did Mister Potter do?" asked Minerva.

"He encapsulated the workstation Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger share in a powerful ward that contained the explosion of the chauldron, the spread of corrosive liquids and the expansion of highly toxic fumes that would have taken out all the oxygen in the laboratory, killing everyone! The corrosive liquid melted the chauldron to an iron slug, and the table to liquid rock that pooled in a magic vase Mister Potter conjured in a blink of an eye. I, for one, had never seen cold lava before. All this while porting Ronald and Hermione to safety. And he had the audacity to accuse Mister Potter of being a slimy Snake, and having caused the disaster. For your information, Molly, Harry was at the front of the class, and Miss Granger and Mister Weasley were in the last row."

"I do not believe you! Show it to me!"

"Wife, you are pushing too far!"

"Do not worry, Arthur, the containment is still active and sits where there used to be a workstation. Mister Potter told me it would stay there as a reminder of what can happen when you act like a dumb ass and a dimwit in a laboratory. I agree with him. It has had some positive impacts on other classes, and more are attentive to what they do as they see the bubbling liquid rock and the vapors contained in the magical field. You, Molly, will come with me when we are done here, and you will see with your own eyes how stupidity results in dangerous situations."

"That is what you get from teaching with dangerous material!" exclaimed Molly.

"Find me another way to produce basic blood replenisher potions, and I will gladly replace the standard recipe with the one you propose, Bitch!" thundered Slughorn, more than infuriated by Molly’s attitude. "And by the way, Mister Ronald Weasley is also banned from the Potions laboratory."

"Is that all the bad action we have to impute to my son?" asked Arthur, from his seat.

"Is that not enough? But I can add his total failure at even beginning to transfigure a match to a needle. He is the last one, and during my last class, he threw the match at a student, setting the poor student on fire!" said Samantha Jones, the professor that had taken Minerva’s place as transfiguration Professor and also was the first year’s head.

"Why?" asked an aggravated Molly.

"Why? Because a student snickered at his repeated failure, and it was not even the one he set on fire. Again, we must give thanks to Mister Potter. Your son used fiend fire on the boy in his rage, and Mister Potter snuffed it out so quickly the boy only lost his hair and his robe. Mister Potter replaced the robe with a fire-resistant one, healed the crying boy, and re-grew his hair as a bonus. I now add my veto to Mister Ronal Weasley continuing his studies in this school. He will not be allowed in the Transfiguration class any longer. We are lucky he has yet to know of the illegal offensive spells or we might have a slew of Avada Kavadra deaths to compound with."

"And I think I will nail the coffin," said the DADA teacher. "Mister Weasley does not listen to instructions in class, passes derogatory comments on fellow students, and does not follow engagement rules during training, in effect endangering his fellow students. He is vicious, jealous, contentious, lies to my face even if I have seen him break a rule, and blames everyone but himself for his own failures. He is so dangerous I am considering asking the King of Magic that her Majesty remove the gift of Magic from him."

"You can not do that! It his Ronald’s right!"

"No, it is a gift, Madam Weasley, not a right. A gift given to us by the High Elves! A gift we must learn to use with sagacity and respect for the gift and for others."

"But there is no such King of Magic! I got you there!"

"Wrong, Molly! You have been so busy blinding yourself to what has occurred in the past year outside of our home in the magical world it appalls me!" said her husband. "There are things more important than the next cherry pie, wife!"

"What are you talking about, Arthur? The High Elves were gone well before the establishment of this school by the Founders!"

"And they are back, Molly. Back! Or have you wiped your memory of the last ten years’ events?" asked an astonished Professor Sprout.

"Are you going to tell me Ronald can not go to your classes too?" asked a pissed-off Molly, not listening to the information Professor Sprout had given her.

"Do I need to? Then so be it. Ronald pushed a student into a growth of Gillian vines I was preparing for the fifth years. The vines began strangling the student. This time it was the quick intervention of Mister Neville Longbottom that saved the first-year girl. And to compound this he called her a vile Snake. We no longer have houses at Hogwarts, Molly, and Mister Weasley refuses to recognize the fact! He was expelled séance tenante from the class, and will not be allowed back in until he expresses true sorrow for his action and changes his attitude towards others. I am surprised he has not tried to sabotage the other students’ potions."

"Oh, he has, repeatedly. He lost his classmates so much points they will need a century of perfect conduct to bring the value back to zero!"

"In clear, Molly, Ronald, your son, has no classes to go to anymore. No professor wants him in their class. The last straw was that massive destruction of property," stated Minerva.

"Molly, we need to pick up Ronald and bring him home. He is all but expelled, in fact if not in the letter of things," said a rather shocked Arthur. "And Ronald will change, or his ass is mine! From now on, Molly, Ronald will eat, piss, breath and shit on order! If I can not gain control of him, I will see to it that his Magic is binded."

"You can not!" shrieked Molly so loudly it broke the Castle windows!

"That is better than having his Magic removed by the High Elves, Molly. At least his children will be magical, even if he is no longer one of us! If the High Elves remove his Magic, he will be a mundane, truly a mundane, not even a Squib, which bindings produce."

"No! NO! NO!" exploded Molly, charging her husband with claws that reminded the other Magicals of a Panther protecting her cubs.

The DADA teacher stunned her in a flash, keeping her from harming Arthur. "I did not know Molly had trained in animagus transformation. That is a partial transformation." commented the DADA teacher.

"Neither did I. I wonder if it is not a case of accidental Magic, or spontaneous Magic as Mister Potter calls it," said Minerva. "If you need help to get the proper paperwork to bind Ronald’s Magic, give me a call. His record here speaks for itself."

"Give me a month to gain control over Ronald. If I can not, I will have him committed to St-Murgo’s for psychiatric evaluation, and potential treatment. If that fails, well... I will have the hospital bind his Magic after presenting the reports from the school and the hospital to the Round Table. I am sure Harry will agree to the least of the two evils, namely, magical binding."

"Harry will try to talk to Ronald first, but I know it will be a total failure. Each time the two meet, Ronald blows up even if Harry just crosses his path."

"Is it that bad?"

"Worse. Take Molly home and use my floo connection to get there, Arthur. I suggest you have your wife checked for temper management and residual potions. Her attitude is highly irrational."

"Minerva’s suggestion is a good one," said Slughorn. "I would also have Ronald checked at the same time. His behavior is way out of line for an 11 year old. I shudder at what his temper will be when hormones kick in!"

"Okay. I will get Molly home and come back the same way, if you allow for a two-way floo call?"

"Certainly Arthur. It will stay open five minutes," Minerva explained.

Five minutes were not passed when Arthur returned, and, accompanied by Samantha Jones, quickly made his way to the first year boys dorm.

"Where is Ronald’s bed?"

"Look for the messiest. He throws everything around and pitches a temper if someone complains about his messy habits. From that description, it is the bed near the window: dust everywhere, unmade, books piled up near the window, but so covered with dust he probably never touched them since he came here, dirty clothes laying on every surface and hanging from every post, the works. Even his bed sheets smell of unmentionables! Luckily, he has not yet learned the pleasure of jacking off, or we might have trees growing under the sheets!"

Arthur made his way to the dump and had to admit the stuff was Ronald’s as his initials RBW were sown in every piece of cloth, and written on every book’s inside cover. He found his son’s crate, unlocked and even messier than the sleeping quarters. He turned it upside down on the floor and then used Magic to fill his son’s stuff back in the crate before closing it with a mighty push.

"And what is that?" he asked rhetorically as he spotted hundreds of candy wrappers now laying on the floor.

"It seems your son is a chocolate maniac and has one hell of a sweet tooth. He must have eaten the chocolate reserves of every student in the dorm for that amount of paper to have been hidden in his crate! You have your work cut out for you, Arthur."

"It seems so."

"I can tell you his eating habits are so disgusting every student sits three seats away from him at the table. And he is too focussed on acting like a Glutton that he does not even notice his isolation during the meals. I suspect he is insecure with food, because of your big family, Arthur."

After shrinking the crate and pocketing it, Arthur turned to Samantha. "Let us go pick up my wayward son. Do you know where he is?"

"Actually, no, since he is certainly not in class...Poppy?"

A House Elf popped on the call.

"What can Poppy do for Mistress?"

"Can you tell us where Mister Ronald Weasley is?"

After a second, the Elf said "He is at where children play with brooms, in class with classmates. And he is doing stupid things... again."

Arthur and Samantha looked at each other and dashed out to reach the Quidditch pitch as quickly as possible. The House Elf, understanding the emergency of the situation, grabbed the two wizards and ported them right at the rear of the class, behind Ronald.

"Thanks for your quick action, Poppy," whispered Samantha, as she and Arthur watched Ronald dig himself another hole.

"I tell you she knows nothing, and neither do you, Squib!" said Ronald as he disrespected Professor Hoot’s lesson. "When you play Quidditch, the only rule there is, is win at all cost! Every dirty trick is permitted, The only thing that has not been done is use wands, but that is because you need at least a hand to hold the broomstick. I can beat Potter any time!"

"So, according to you, murder on the pitch is legal?"

"Sure... as long as it looks like an accident!"

Arthur was in shock. Ronald was actively promoting murder!

"And I tell you Harry is the better flyer. He has a sense of depth the like of which I have never seen!"

"Coming from a Squib, that evaluation is worthless!"

"Squib my ass, you still have a wooden needle, not a silver one! And I succeeded on my first try, without saying a word, moving a finger, or even looking at it, and without a wand!"

"You cheated. I am sure you had a needle hidden in your robe."

"What robe? I was nude! Unless you consider my prick a needle! In that case, from what I have seen of your toothpick in the showers, I will devalue its worth to a dangling Worm! Maybe you should go fishing with it! And I would be nude right now if I could do what Harry does, become an animal with fur!"

Ronald tried to give a mighty punch to Neville’s face for his comment, but found himself face-first in the dirt after flying over Longbottom’s shoulder.

"Nice judo move there," said Harry. "You see, I told you necessity created the reality."

"What is going on in the back?" hollered Professor Hoot.

"He attacked me without provocation!" said Ronald, infuriating his Dad.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! I heard your exchange with Mister Longbottom, your total disrespect for Madam Hoot, an ex-captain of the Harpies that has graciously accepted to teach flying at Hogwarts, and your boast on your meager flying abilities; now you lie to our face and blame Mister Longbottom while I saw you give the first punch to his face? Shut up and stand still, or I will silence you and bind you! Got it?" thundered Arthur, who had had enough of Ronald’s ill temper, and other issues. "Madam Hoot, you need not report this to Minerva if you wish, as I am officially removing Ronald from the school until further notice!"

"I am sorry Arthur, but I am bound by Magic to report this to the Staff of Hogwarts and it has been added to his record automatically. Since the High Elf had reviewed and fixed the wards, nothing goes unreported, even if it is behind the doors of a closet. If I did not do so after witnessing the incident, it would be a black mark on my own record."

"I see. I wonder if Minerva knows of this."

"Probably not. I just happened to have too many issues with the Quidditch teams to ignore the fact as each major infraction to the Quidditch rule was recorded on their Quidditch logbook and the school’s logbook. It has led to some serious re-evaluation of whom is fit to be on a team. Handling seven teams at the same time got me to realize the need for junior and senior teams, and for inter-level and inner-level Quidditch matches. It now represents 85 or more games over a year, rather than the usual 10 we used to have. There is not a single week-end day that does not have its own Quidditch match now."

"A Quidditch paradise..."

"Which your son forfeited." added Samantha.

"But I can beat Potter! I am sure of it!"

"Ronald, shut up!"

"I will not, and Mom will not allow you to take me out of school! It is her dream I become Head Boy!"

"Unlikely, that, given you just got expelled from every class!" said Arthur, not caring that he was destroying his son’s reputation by revealing this publicly. He had enough and was one step from kicking Ronald out of the family.

"Mister Weasley?"

"Yes?"

"I am Mister Potter. Since your son, Mister Ronald Weasley, is so sure he can outfly me, why not do a simple competition, a flying competition?"

"What do you mean?"

"Madam Hoot launches ten of these tiny flying balls, snitches, I think they are called. The one that catches the most wins! And, to make things a bit fair for the snitches, we give them a five minute lead. How does that sound?"

"Does Ronald really know how to use a broom?" asked Professor Hoot.

"He has been playing Quidditch with his brothers since he was five. I guess he probably learned the basics, but I would not put it beyond the older boys to have watered down the game to prevent temper tantrums from mister Sore Loser."

"I will agree to that competition if you swear on your Magic you will not hold the School liable should anything happen to your son."

"He does not need to, Madam Hoot, I will protect him should he fall. Or should I say when he does. Cushioning charms are good for something."

"If you say so, Mister Potter. I will take you on your word. You have proven trustworthy with Magic, contrary to this inflated ego on two short legs. I think I have the ten snitches in a backup box. Give me two minutes."

Madam Hoot quickly took off to a storeroom found on the side of the pitch and came back with a bag that seemed to want to fly off on its own.

"There we are, nine snitches in the bag and one in the box. All are identical; since Mister Potter is the one being called on, he chooses the level of the snitches. The one in the box is set to beginners; the nine others are set to Hogwarts School Quidditch match level. There is also Professional B and Professional A, the later being the hardest."

"I select Professional A, Madam Hoot."

"Are you sure, Mister Potter? We might be here until the end of time!"

"Yes, I am sure."

"Do you forfeit, Mister Weasley? It is always preferable to acknowledge a weakness than to look ridicule in public."

"Forfeit, me? I would prefer to die!"

"Unfortunately, I will not give you that way out," said Harry as he looked at the red-faced boy.

"So be it then." Madam Hoot waved her wand over the bag of snitches and the one in the crate. You could hear the intense buzz of the snitches as their energy increased dramatically, making them sound like an angry bumble-bee nest.

"Professor Jones, start the clock the moment I release the snitches. Remember, Mister Weasley, the rules are five minutes before you mount your broom. Both of you have Comet 260, reliable teaching brooms, therefore equal equipment. Ready? Set! Go!"

The snitches took to the sky at blinding speed, a fountain of gold that quickly dispersed over the Quidditch pitch.

Harry did not move but Ronald quickly stood over his broom, legs spread, waiting for the clock to count to zero.

As soon as the clock rang, Harry extended his hand, calling the broom to his grip silently. On the other hand, Weasley hollered "UP!" only to have the broom smack him hard in the testicles, much to Ronald’s discomfort and hollering! By the time Ronald had untangled himself out of his self-made mess, Harry was way up in the noon sun, circling the pitch.

"Cheater!" Ronald hollered from the ground.

"Instead of name-calling, how about doing some flying?" replied a calm Harry, whose voice seemed to be at ground level while he was at least 600 feet up!

Ronald took to the air, furious, and headed directly for Harry, not even bothering to look for snitches.

"What is he doing?" asked Madam Hoot.

"Applying his own rules, that is, no rules. He hates Harry, and will not hesitate to kill him if he can get away with it," replied Neville. "For him, a Quidditch game is a license to murder."

The others on the ground watched as Ronald made his way furiously toward Harry. As Ronald tried to ram Harry to push him off his broom, Harry did a barrel roll and caught a snitch that had been following the furious Weasley.

"One for Potter, zero for Weasley!" said Madam Hoot as the catch was recorded on the scoreboard by Magic.

Ronald was even more enraged. He tried using his wand to hit Harry, but Harry intercepted the spell and sent an image to Madam Hoot.

"A Bombarda spell? Your son needs a visit in Azkaban, Arthur!"

Meanwhile, Harry took a dive to the ground and pulled up bare inches from the ground, his belly rubbing the grass.

"A Wronsky feint?? I have never seen one like that, it was a death wish!"

"Luckily, Ronald did not take the bait..." Longbottom said, "or he would have plowed the dirt."

"It was not a feint. Harry got a second snitch from that dive. Look at the scoreboard!" exclaimed Samantha.

Everyone looked up at the scoreboard just in time to see Harry score a third catch.

"Where is he?"

"Below the stands!" freaked Neville. "He is below the stands! I thought the snitch never went there!"

"Pro-A have wider latitude. They can even mingle with the spectators," commented Madam Hoot.

"Why is he not out of there yet? Look at his speed!" wondered Arthur.

"There! I saw a flick of gold, just below the last stand! Harry is going to catch it... And Ronald is trying to catch the one around the goal post at the other end... and not even getting closer!"

"Four to zero!" hollered Madam Hoot, just as Harry emerged from the underside of the stands, and made a dash for the scoring board.... catching a fifth one as he passed between the ground and the magically dangling board.

"If Ronald wants to score anything, he better hurry!" said Ernest Macmillan, as he watched the red-head try to navigate the goal posts unsuccessfully.

"Harry is flying upside down, mere inches from the grass and looking up. I wonder why?" Draco asked.

"Here he goes, straight up, and bingo, another snitch to Harry. He has effectively won, but he is currently diving... and zigzagging furiously. That snitch does not want to be caught. Oh, he did a back loop... and caught the evasive snitch. He is at seven – zero!" wondered Madam Hoot. "That kid would be unbeatable on the professional circuit!" The marvel Madam Hoot felt at witnessing that level of flying could be heard and felt in her voice.

"Hey, he’s coming for us!" said a freaking Hermione. Just as she dived to the ground, Harry flew in front, just below her breastbones, and caught another snitch, barely escaping the falling girl.

"He’s nuts..."

"No, Draco, he saw the snitch use us to hide and went for it. I prefer he did it rather than Ronald, My son would have killed one of us or got killed in the attempt."

"Two snitches to find and we are done. Where is Ronald?" wondered Neville.

"I do not know. He is not flying... as far as I can see, the sky is clear except for Harry..." said Madam Hoot.

Harry quickly caught the snitch that had evaded Ronald so successfully and began looking for the last one. It was as he looked at the ground that he spotted Ronald sneaking on his broom toward the judges of the competition, namely Madam Hoot, and Professor Jones. His attitude told Harry that Ronald was up to no good, so he hovered just above the boy, some 300 feet over him, and waited. As he watched, he felt the increasing intent to kill of one Ronald Weasley and prepared to place a shield around the boy.

Fifty yards, forty yards, thirty yards, twenty yards... ten yards!

"Bombarda!" yelled Ronald Weasley aiming for the compact group of adults that included the students, the teachers and his dad.

Harry instantly created a shield, and captured the spell before it left Ronald’s wand tip. The bright red light blinded Ronald much like a solar flare, and rebounded through his wand burning his wand arm off. The boy never felt anything as he fainted from the magical surge.

Harry dove to the ground, catching the last snitch as it hovered over an unconscious Ronald., and landed behind the boy. The scoreboard recorded the last capture as if nothing special had occurred, giving Harry a ten to zero score.

The adults turned around and saw Harry walking toward Ronald, furious.

"What happened?"

"He tried to kill you from behind. If that Bombarda spell had made it to you, none would have survived. He wanted you dead. Verify his wand, you will see for yourself the truth of what I say."

One of the Magical Soldiers ‘protecting’ Harry was called and performed the A Priori Incantatem spell on Ronald’s wand. It showed not only the Bombarda spell, but also a flurry of spells sent toward Harry during the competition; it also revealed numerous infractions to good conduct prior to the current events, most of which had occurred since he had made his way to Hogwarts. Numerous events were explained by the time match.

"Sorry, Mister Weasley, your son needs more than a treatment at St-Murgo’s. He needs a stay in a juvenile detention center. Luckily, the Queen has created just such a center for Magical juveniles, thus keeping your son out of Azkaban, at least until he reaches adulthood... We have no choice in the question, Sir."

"So be it, then. I will not harbor a potential murderer under my roof! Take him away."

"Do you want me to regenerate his wand arm?"

"No, Mister Potter. He needs to learn his actions have consequences. And that is one."