Bruce Wayne and the Chamber of Secrets
Chapter Five: Head Trip
By the next morning, Bruce had largely put the encounter with Robert Anthony in the back of his mind – not forgotten, but not of particular importance at the moment. He would deal with the 'Elite' at the proper time and place of his choosing and not a moment before. More to the point, if Draco Malfoy represented the typical mind arrayed against him, there was not a great and terrible deal to worry about.
Arriving in Snape's dungeon early, the Slytherin was surprised to see Hermione Granger there waiting for him. Bruce had to admit the girl did her best to live up to the Gryffindor model – most students deliberately avoided coming to class until the last possible minute out of fear of the tyrannical potions master. After he took a seat, she made her way over to him.
"Harry, Ron and I were planning to visit Hagrid this Saturday, and I was wondering if you wanted to come. I know you said that you met him at the end of last year, but this will be a chance to really be introduced to him."
Bruce responded with a simple "fine" and expected that to be the end of it. To his surprise (and slight annoyance) she started placing her potions materials next to his and then took a seat at the spot next to him. It was usually vacant due to the fact that no one could stand partnering with the boy during lessons.
"What are you doing?" Bruce asked, a curious expression on his face.
"I'm sitting next to you, obviously," Hermione replied as if this was routine behavior.
"I work best alone."
"Maybe you do, but it never hurts to have someone around to help. Besides, you're going to need a potions partner this year and I doubt that many are lining up for the position." Hermione said.
Bruce hated to admit it, but she had a point. Grunting his acquiescence, he prepared his own materials for the class ahead.
As the room filled with students, the Slytherin took notice of the expected looks of disbelief caused by the resident Gryffindor brain sitting next to a particularly foul – tempered member of her rival house. Naturally, the likes of Malfoy started muttering what were sure to be insults along with general comments about how Bruce was a traitor to his house. The Gryffindors, aside from Harry and Ron, were simply unable to process that one of their own was actually associating with a Slytherin. They thought of it as simply inconceivable. Even Snape raised an eyebrow at this, though it was no doubt more because he had very deliberately warned Bruce off against such behavior near the end of the previous year.
"If you continue this, it is going to have unfortunate ramifications for you," Bruce said.
"Stop being so melodramatic. I'm just sitting next to a friend, that's all," Hermione responded.
It was clear to the boy that she considered the matter settled, so the second year student turned his attention to Snape as the professor began his lesson.
After Potions came his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. While every ounce of common sense he had told the Slytherin not to expect much, he reasoned that it could not hurt to give Lockhart a chance. There might be a small possibility that the man was not a complete fraud and actually knew something about the subject. Unfortunately, such optimistic thoughts were proven to be blatantly false, as evidenced by the first ten minutes of the lesson.
Bruce was sitting alone, near the back of the class, when Lockhart came in, a smile on his face. The girls in the class swooned.
"Hello everyone! I am, of course, Gilderoy Lockhart, here to teach you all that you shall need to defend yourself against a varied manner of unpleasant entities. None of you need worry – as winner of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, along with being an Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, I have only the best methods to impart to all of you, though you may not look quite as good at it as I do." He then gave another smile, making sure that everyone could see his teeth. Bruce felt ill.
"First, we shall have a test of the material I have given in my books, which I'm sure you have all read." Lockhart began passing out pieces of parchment with questions on them. Glancing at his sheet, Bruce started feeling violently ill.
What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?
What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?
"Sir, what does your favorite food have to do with battling the dark forces?" It was Robert Anthony who asked the question.
"Why, my good Mr…."
"Anthony."
"Anthony, if you are to learn about the dark arts, you must first acquaint yourselves with the perfect example of someone who effortlessly fights them. And now….begin!"
Half an hour later, Lockhart took up the tests.
"Tsk, tsk, none of you remembered that my first pet was a dog named Harold, or that I was wearing my favorite suit when I fought my first banshee." He then took his place at the front of the class.
"Now, while I had originally planned on starting off my classes with a practical demonstration of my abilities, the creatures I used proved to be too frightening for my first students. It was merely a trifle to handle, of course, but I don't want to risk needlessly upsetting any of you…"
Bruce fought the urge to call the man a liar. Harry had told him about the pixies and how Hermione had to cast a Freezing Charm to stop them while Lockhart hid behind his desk.
"Therefore, I shall use one of you to help me demonstrate the proper methods required to defend yourself. Mr. Anthony, perhaps you would care to help?"
Robert looked as though someone had asked him to eat live slugs, but he got up anyway. The rest of the class consisted of the boy acting out the part of a banshee while Lockhart 'battled' him.
"No, no, Mr. Anthony, you have to spread your arms out wider! We can't cheat your classmates now, can we?'
Malfoy and his cronies snickered amongst themselves for the entire class. Bruce, meanwhile, was mulling over how difficult it would be to have Lockhart removed.
Eventually, Saturday morning rolled around and Bruce headed down to the great hall, where he had promised Hermione he was going to meet the trio. A part of him wondered at the ease with which she had extracted that promise, while another decided to echo her earlier advice about melodrama. He had just finished eating a roll when Weasley and Granger came over to him, conspicuously a man short.
"Harry has Quidditch practice this morning," Hermione said, responding to the inquisitive look on Bruce's face.
"Yeah, Wood is trying to get in some extra training, no doubt trying to make up for last year," Ron added as he picked up a piece of toast from the table, ignoring the looks from the few other Slytherin students that were present.
"We were planning to go watch him practice. Do you want to come?" Hermione asked.
Bruce mulled it over in his mind before answering the question.
"I'm not sure I would be welcome."
"Don't worry, we'll clear you with the others. Besides, it'll be easier than trying to track you down after practice." Ron began munching on the toast after finishing his sentence. Bruce was still reluctant, but relented when Hermione tugged on his arm.
"Great! Now, you can carry the jelly." Ron handed the Slytherin a jar of grape and raspberry jam after they had made their way to the Gryffindor table. He then picked up a few more breakfast items and the group headed towards the Quidditch field.
They settled in the lower row, near the field. Not far away was a first year, carrying with him a rather bulky-looking camera. The three munched on toast and talked of little things (though Hermione and Ron carried most of the conversation) until the sun was fully in the sky. Harry then walked out onto the field with the rest of the team, a noticeable look of sleep in his eyes. Apparently, the Gryffindor team's seeker was not entirely alert yet.
"Aren't you finished yet?" Ron called out.
"Haven't even started. Wood's been teaching us new moves." After Harry finished responding, Bruce saw the team captain, Oliver Wood, take the boy aside. There was some hushed muttering from Wood, no doubt about Bruce, with assurances to the contrary from Potter. Meanwhile, the Slytherin munched on another piece of toast and kept a careful watch on their conversation.
"Wood's not going to kick you out," Hermione said, after catching Bruce staring at the two.
It was then that something else caught Bruce's attention and he stood up, getting his wand ready.
"What is it?" Ron asked.
"Trouble, most likely," Bruce replied as he made his way onto the field with Hermione and Weasley following.
A pack of Slytherins, the Quidditch team to be exact, had made their way onto the field. Wood was obviously furious at this, especially when Draco Malfoy started showing off his broom. Bruce then glance at the rest of the group and found that they were all in possession of new brooms. Why had he not been aware of this? Usually Malfoy loudly announces any kind of stunt similar to this a couple of days beforehand in the Slytherin dormitory. Was he becoming more cautious due to Bruce's presence? If so, then the Wayne heir would have to modify his surveillance techniques.
"What's happening?" Ron asked. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?"
"I'm the Slytherin Seeker, Weasley." Malfoy smugly responded. "Everyone's just been admiring the new brooms my father bought the team."
"Once again using money to replace ability," Bruce's tone was a mixture of disgust and sarcasm.
"I wasn't asking for your opinion, you traitorous mudblood," Malfoy shot back.
All the assembled Gryffindors, save for Hermione and Harry, gave a slight gasp when they heard Malfoy's insult. Bruce took a few steps forward and all eyes were now on him.
"Perhaps you've forgotten the last time you called me that." Bruce's voice was dangerously low. Malfoy, looking a bit nervous, decided to continue.
"You can't do anything to me here, you insane mudblood, so why don't you just shut up and run home to your parents."
He could not exactly recall what happened, but before he realized it, Bruce was on top of Malfoy, ready to put his fellow Slytherin in the hospital wing. Harry and Ron were trying to pull him off, but to no avail. It was only when Bruce had almost managed to break one of Malfoy's fingers that he felt himself thrown back on the ground, in a sort of daze.
"Who did that!" Ron yelled, though no one came forward.
Bruce, meanwhile, was trying to get to his feet and constantly failing in every attempt. He was unable to stand upright or even tell up from down. Falling flat on his face, he heard the unmistakable sounds of Malfoy and the other Slytherins laughing at him.
"Maybe that will teach you your place, mudblood," Malfoy sneered.
Bruce wanted nothing more at that moment than to teach Malfoy an entirely new meaning of the word 'pain', but found himself unable to do so much as see clearly. He felt Ron and Harry pick him up off of the grass and clutch his arms so as to keep him upright. The Slytherin barely registered the two of them talking about Hagrid's hut, or the fact that they were helping him walk and trying to keep him from falling over again.
After what seemed like an eternity (especially after getting waylaid by the Gryffindor with the camera), Bruce registered something that seemed to be the outline of the groundskeepers' hut, but it was difficult for him to tell. He then felt his body being pushed behind a nearby bush, hearing the ever – pompous voice of Gilderoy Lockhart. Had he been capable of forming coherent sentences, Bruce would have asked what was happening.
Finally, though it seemed to be yet another eternity, the Slytherin was inside Hagrid's hut, though he immediately fell out of the chair he was placed in. Off in the distance, it seemed as if the Gryffindor trio were talking to someone about him. Suddenly, a cup materialized in front of him, with a voice instructing him to drink the contents and a large hand helping to guide the mug in the direction of his mouth. A few minutes passed, and the world once again came into focus. Hagrid was still talking to the other three and they were outlying the events on the Quidditch field.
"Dirty little rat, that Malfoy," the disdain was evident in the gamekeeper's voice. "Don' blame yer friend fer jumpin' him."
"Will he be okay?" Hermione asked.
"He'll be fine. A bit of that stuff'll set him to rights."
"It's ridiculous," Ron said. "Being pure-blood doesn't mean anything. Look at Neville – he's pure-blood and has trouble remembering which side of the cauldron is up."
"I think he's coming around," Harry said.
"Yeh okay?" Hagrid asked.
"Fine," Bruce replied, more angry at himself than Malfoy. How could he have just lost control like that? It was nothing more than pure luck that he did not get hit by a worse spell.
"Jus' keep sippin' that stuff and yeh'll be good as new. Here, 'ave some treacle fudge." Hagrid said as he handed the recovering boy a piece of his homemade bakery item. Bruce took a bite from the food offered, only to find that his jaws were now stuck together.
"What did Professor Lockhart want, Hagrid?" Hermione asked.
"Givin' me advice on getting' delpies out of a well. Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."
"Why would Dumbledore tolerate such an incompetent," Bruce said, having managed to get his mouth open.
"He's not incompetent," Hermione responded. "Dumbledore obviously saw his talent." Hagrid gave a small laugh at that.
"Hermione, the reason he was hired was because he was the only man who applied. Gettin' hard ter find someone ter teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, on account of people thinkin' it's jinxed."
Bruce felt a surge of triumph and vindication run through him, while Hermione merely pouted at Hagrid's s response. The gamekeeper then got up and walked over to the door.
"Come on, I got somethin' ter show yeh."
The students followed him out to a vegetable patch behind his hut. In it were a dozen very large pumpkins, obviously intended for the upcoming Halloween feast.
"What have you been feeding them?" Harry asked.
"Well, I've been givin' them – you know – a bit of help - "
"An Engorgement charm," Bruce said as he examined the pumpkins. "An effective one, obviously."
"Ron's little sister said something like that when I met her yesterday. Said she was jus' lookin' round the grounds, but if yeh ask me, she was hopin' teh get one of those signed pictures Harry's been givin' out."
"I have not been giving out signed pictures!" Harry almost shouted, his voice indignant. "Lockhart has just been - " Hagrid interrupted him by laughing.
"Don' worry, I know yeh aren't like that. Lockhart is just jealous because yeh're far more famous than him."
Harry calmed down after that, though it was obvious he was still upset over it Bruce, meanwhile, found himself wondering about Weasley's sister. She seemed a bit young to correctly peg an Engorgement charm, and did not overtly display the tendencies to read up on such things that he and Hermione had. On the other hand, the Wayne heir was still largely ignorant of the minutia of the average wizard's life, so there remained the strong probability that he was suspicious over nothing.
The four students remained at Hagrid's for a little longer until it was time for lunch, at which time they bade their goodbyes to the gamekeeper. Bruce broke off from the other three, claiming that he wanted to find something to help clear his head. In reality, he wanted to be alone so he could plan an appropriate response to the day's humiliation.
It would have to be something very satisfying.
A thousand and one apologies to those who I have so bitterly disappointed with my lack of updates. I can only throw myself upon the mercy of those assembled and hope that they somehow find it in their hearts to forgive me. In explanation for my absence, I will only say this: the only thing less fun than being involved in civil lawsuits is finding out that your computer has melted and you must therefore start over from scratch as all your hard copies have vanished.
I am not terribly fond of this chapter, for reasons that will probably be obvious. If I receive enough complaints, I may just take it down and rewrite it. Let me know what you think! All reviews/ e-mails/ private messages/ smoke signals are welcome.