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Chapter 43- Ford Anglia.
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"I can see it!" Harry yelled. "Right ahead - there!" The Hogwarts Express was streaking along below them like a scarlet snake. It had taken them a while to find it, but finally they did.
"Due north," said Ron, checking the compass on the dashboard. "Okay, we'll just have to check on it every half hour or so - hold on." And then they shot up through the clouds. A minute or so later, they burst out into a blaze of sunlight. It was a different world. The wheels of the car skimmed the sea of fluffy clouds, the sky a bright, endless blue under the blinding white sun.
"All we've got to worry about now are aeroplanes," said Ron. Harry never thought he would even ever be in an aeroplane, let alone have to look out for one to make sure he didn't collide with it. They looked at each other and started to laugh; for a long time, they couldn't stop. It was as though they had been plunged into a fabulous dream. This, thought Harry, was undoubtedly the only way to travel - past swirls and turrets of snowy cloud, in a car full of hot, bright sunlight, with a fat pack of toffees in the glove compartment, and the prospect of seeing Fred's and George's jealous faces when they landed smoothly and spectacularly on the sweeping lawn in front of Hogwarts castle.
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Well, I could not have rushed off of that train fast enough. That girl was ravenous, not letting go of me and not giving me a single chance to escape. Hermione just kept talking and talking. Sometimes, it wasn't even questions but her just trying to flex on me with her knowledge, which she thinks is impressive for a second year to have. Hell, it was impressive, but I didn't care. She was a lovely girl and all, but she could be annoying for long periods of time, or, you know, five minutes uninterrupted.
And Ginny, that girl just wouldn't stop scribbling in that fucking black book. It was constant, and she would have a permanent stupid smile on her face. The combination of Hermione talking and the continuous sound of quill upon the book was truly grating to the ears. I just used a slight noise-dampening sound to tune them out, and Hermione just continued rambling without my input.
I ended up falling asleep, which I thank Merlin for because I might have cut my own ears off with these two annoying girls. I know I could have just kicked them out, but, well, Tom was also here. Who knows, maybe I am a little rude and kick them both out, and Ginny gets a little angry with me, and therefore Tom comes after me or something. Maybe that doesn't make sense, but either way, I wasn't about to risk getting the attention of that cursed book. So, I let them both be.
Hermione woke me up when we finally arrived with a frustrated look on her face. I guess she had warred with her side of finding me rude falling asleep, but in the end, her obedience to authority won out, and she let me. She looked a bit miffed when I awoke, and Ginny was nowhere to be found. I quickly left as well, wanting to leave the girl behind. I walked away quickly, and the memories in my head guided me along the way. I promptly found the carriages with the Thestrals leading them along, but I didn't have time to admire them as I saw a frizzy bunch of hair getting close to me, and so I hopped on the closest one and let it take me to Hogwarts.
With that done, I immediately went to the Great Hall, and all of the Professors were already seated. I said my hello's, and a few of them responded back, but no one was in the mood for a chat, so I quickly took my seat. The only empty seat. And then I waited as the students all filed in.
I wonder how long it will be until the hero and his sidekick finally get here.
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They made regular checks on the train as they flew farther and farther north, each dip beneath the clouds showing them a different view. London was soon far behind them, replaced by neat green fields that gave way in turn to vast, purplish moors, a great city alive with cars like multicoloured ants, and villages with tiny toy churches.
However, Harry had to admit several uneventful hours later that some of the fun was wearing off. The toffees had made them extremely thirsty, and they had nothing to drink. He and Ron had pulled off their sweaters, but Harry's T-shirt was sticking to the back of his seat, and his glasses kept sliding down to the end of his sweaty nose. He had stopped noticing the fantastic cloud shapes now and was thinking longingly of the train miles below, where you could buy ice-cold pumpkin juice from a trolley pushed by a plump witch. Why hadn't they been able to get onto platform nine and three-quarters?
"Can't be much further, can it?" croaked Ron, hours later still, as the sun started to sink into their floor of cloud, staining it a deep pink. "Ready for another check on the train?" It was still right below them, winding its way past a snowcapped mountain. It was much darker beneath the canopy of clouds. Ron put his foot on the accelerator and drove them upward again, but the engine began to whine as he did so. Harry and Ron exchanged nervous glances.
"It's probably just tired," said Ron. "It's never been this far before ......" And so they both pretended not to notice the whining growing louder and louder as the sky became steadily darker. Stars were blossoming in the blackness. Harry pulled his sweater back on, trying to ignore the way the windshield wipers were now waving feebly as though in protest.
"Not far," said Ron, more to the car than to Harry, "not far now," and he patted the dashboard nervously. When they flew back beneath the clouds a little while later, they had to squint through the darkness for a landmark they knew.
"There!" Harry shouted, making Ron and Hedwig jump. "Straight ahead!" Silhouetted on the dark horizon, high on the cliff over the lake, stood the many turrets and towers of Hogwarts Castle. But the car had begun to shudder and was losing speed.
"Come on," Ron said cajolingly, giving the steering wheel a little shake, "nearly there, come on -" The engine groaned. Narrow jets of steam were issuing from under the hood. Harry found himself gripping the edges of his seat very hard as they flew toward the lake. The car gave a nasty wobble. Glancing out of his window, Harry saw the smooth, black, glassy surface of the water a mile below. Ron's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. The car wobbled again.
"Come on," Ron muttered. They were over the lake - the castle was right ahead - Ron put his foot down. There was a loud clunk and a splutter, and the engine died completely.
"Uh-oh," said Ron into the silence. The nose of the car dropped. They were falling, gathering speed, heading straight for the solid castle wall.
"Noooooo!" Ron yelled, swinging the steering wheel around. They missed the dark stone wall by inches as the car turned in a great arc, soaring over the dark greenhouses, then the vegetable patch, and then out over the black lawns, losing altitude all the time.
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Ha, well, isn't that interesting? The first years had just entered, and before they were sorted, Dumbledore announced my position here as Defence Against The Dark Arts Teacher. I just gave a wave and smile in response, which sent half the room swooning. I will probably get tired of that. I was more interested in the sky above, finding the stars mesmerising, and then I looked out the window at the great lake and, as luck would have it, who just happened to rush by.
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I saw a flash of blue go by the window so fast that I don't think anybody else noticed. Strangely, there was no sound to join it. I guess the Hall must prevent sound from coming in and maybe even going out. This place does get noisy. Harry, Ron and the blue magic car must be on their way to the Whomping Willow. Man, I wish I could ditch to go see that, but I can't just walk out of here. I am a teacher now.
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At this point, Ron let go of the steering wheel completely, finding it futile and pulled his wand out of his back pocket. "STOP! STOP!" he yelled, whacking the dashboard and the windshield, but they were still plummeting, the ground flying up toward them. Harry could only watch on in shock, knowing that wouldn't work but for some reason hoping that it would. That was until he looked ahead.
"WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE!" Harry bellowed, lunging for the steering wheel, but it was too late. CRUNCH. With an earsplitting bang of metal on wood, they hit the thick tree trunk and dropped to the ground with a heavy jolt. Steam was billowing from under the crumpled hood; Hedwig was shrieking in terror. A golfball-size lump was throbbing on Harry's head where he had hit the windshield, and to his right, Ron let out a low, despairing groan.
"Are you okay?" Harry said urgently. Speaking to his owl as well as his friend.
"My wand," said Ron in a shaky voice. "Look at my wand -" It had snapped, almost in two. The tip was dangling limply, held on by a few splinters. Harry opened his mouth to say he was sure they'd be able to mend it up at the school, but he never even got started. At that very moment, something hit the side of the car with the force of a charging bull, sending him lurching sideways into Ron just as an equally heavy blow hit the roof.
"What's happen -?" Ron gasped, staring through the windshield, and Harry looked around just in time to see a branch as thick as a python smash into it. The tree they had hit was attacking them. Its trunk was bent almost double, and its gnarled boughs were pummeling every inch of the car it could reach.
"Aaargh!" said Ron as another twisted limb punched a significant dent into his door. The windshield was now trembling under a hail of blows from knuckle-like twigs, and a branch as thick as a battering ram was pounding furiously on the roof, which seemed to be caving.
"Run for it!" Ron shouted, throwing his full weight against his door, but the next second, he had been knocked backwards into Harry's lap by a vicious uppercut from another branch.
"We're done for!" he moaned as the ceiling sagged, but suddenly the floor of the car was vibrating - the engine had restarted.
"Reverse!" Harry yelled, and the car shot backwards. The tree was still trying to hit them; they could hear its roots creaking as it almost ripped itself up, lashing out at them as they sped out of reach.
"That," panted Ron, "was close. Well done, car -" The car, however, had reached the end of its tether. With two sharp clunks, the doors flew open, and Harry felt his seat tip sideways. The next thing he knew, he was sprawled on the damp ground. Loud thuds told him that the car was ejecting their luggage from the trunk. Hedwig's cage flew through the air and burst open, and she rose out of it with an angry screech and sped off toward the castle without a backward look. Then, dented, scratched, and steaming, the car rumbled off into the darkness, into the Forbidden Forrest, its rear lights blazing angrily.
"Come back!" Ron yelled after it, brandishing his broken wand. "Dad'll kill me!" But the car disappeared from view with one last snort from its exhaust.
"Can you believe our luck?" said Ron miserably, bending down to pick up Scabbers. "Of all the trees we could've hit, we had to get one that hits back." He glanced over his shoulder at the ancient tree, which was still flailing its branches threateningly.
"Come on," said Harry wearily, "we'd better get up to the school. Hermione must be going crazy." It wasn't at all the triumphant arrival they had pictured. Stiff, cold, and bruised, they seized the ends of their trunks and began dragging them up the grassy slope toward the great oak front doors.
"I think the feast's already started," said Ron, dropping his trunk at the foot of the front steps and crossing quietly to look through a brightly lit window. "Hey - Harry - come and look - it's the Sorting!" Harry hurried over and, together, he and Ron peered in at the Great Hall.
Innumerable candles were hovering in midair over four long, crowded tables, making the golden plates and goblets sparkle. Overhead, the bewitched ceiling, which always mirrored the sky outside, sparkled with stars. Through the forest of pointed black Hogwarts hats, Harry saw a long line of scared-looking firstyears filing into the Hall. Ginny was among them, easily visible because of her vivid Weasley hair.
Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall, a bespectacled witch with her hair in a tight bun, was placing the famous Hogwarts Sorting Hat on a stool before the newcomers. Every year, this aged old hat, patched, frayed, and dirty, sorted new students into the four Hogwarts houses of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Harry well remembered putting it on exactly one year ago and waiting, petrified, for its decision as it muttered aloud in his ear.
For a few horrible seconds, he had feared that the hat was going to put him in Slytherin, the house that had turned out more Dark witches and wizards than any other -but he had ended up in Gryffindor, along with Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasleys. Last term, Harry and Ron had helped Gryffindor win the House Championship, beating Slytherin for the first time in seven years.
A very small, mousy-haired boy had been called forward to place the hat on his head. Harry's eyes wandered past him to where Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, sat watching the Sorting from the staff table, his long silver beard and half-moon glasses shining brightly in the candlelight. Several seats along, Harry saw Gilderoy Lockhart dressed in robes of dark blue. And there at the end was Hagrid, giant and hairy, drinking deeply from his goblet.
"Hang on. . . " Harry muttered to Ron. "There's an empty chair at the staff table .... Where's Snape?" Professor Severus Snape was Harry's least favourite teacher. Harry also happened to be Snape's least favourite student. Cruel, sarcastic, and disliked by everybody except the students from his own house, Snape taught Potions.
"Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully.
"Maybe he's left," said Harry, discarding his first dark thought of maybe he is dead. "Because he missed out on the Defense Against Dark Arts job again!"
"Or he might have been sacked!" said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him -"
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I spotted Harry and Ron as soon as they entered, and I was more interested in them than these boring kids getting sorted. I cast a spell that would allow me to hear them from my seat across the Hall. I heard everything they had said, and then, seeing someone approach them from behind, I couldn't help but feel a tremendous amount of amusement. This ought to be fun.
"Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train." Ron freezes up, his face paling, his mouth stuck open. Harry spun around. Severus Snape stood there, his black robes rippling in a cold breeze that had no place in the warm halls. He was a thin man with sallow skin, a hooked nose, and greasy, shoulder-length black hair, and at this moment, he was smiling in a way that made it very clear Harry and Ron were in very deep trouble.
"Follow me," said Snape. Not daring even to look at each other, Harry and Ron quickly started following Snape up the steps into the vast, echoing entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches. A delicious smell of food was wafting from the Great Hall, but Snape led them away from the warmth and light down a narrow stone staircase that led into the dungeons. Not wanting to be left out of the fun and finding this welcoming ceremony quite boring since most of the professors are involved in their own conversations, I get up and move, following after them.
"In!" Snape said, opening a door halfway down the cold passageway and pointing. He spots me rolling up as well but just rolls his eyes and enters after the boys entered Snape's office, shivering. I came in after, closing the door behind me. The shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large glass jars, in which floated all manner of revolting things that I didn't really want to know the name of at the moment. The fireplace was dark and empty. Snape turned to look at the boys, ignoring my presence. They also didn't notice me behind them.
"So," he said softly, "the train isn't good enough for the famous Harry Potter and his faithful sidekick Weasley. Wanted to arrive with a bang, did we, boys?" Snape says, sneering down at them.
"No, sir, it was the barrier at King's Cross, it -" Ron started but didn't have a chance to finish.
"Silence!" said Snape coldly. "What have you done with the car?" Ron gulped as Snape's eyes bore down on them, and I got the distinct impression he was reading their surface thoughts. I decided to do the same, except I didn't need eye contact like Snape. And reading Harry's mind, I knew this wasn't the first time Snape had given Harry the impression of being able to read minds. But a moment later, he understood, as Snape unrolled today's issue of the Evening Prophet.
"You were seen," he hissed, showing them the headline: FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES. He began to read aloud: "Two Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car flying over the Post Office tower at noon in Norfolk, Mrs Hetty Bayliss while hanging out her washing. Mr Angus Fleet, of Peebles, reported to police- Six or seven Muggles in all. I believe your father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?" he said, looking up at Ron and smiling still more nastily.
"Dear, dear, his own son..." Harry felt as though he'd just been walloped in the stomach by one of the mad tree's larger branches. If anyone found out Mr Weasley had bewitched the car... he hadn't thought of that.
"I noticed, in my search of the park, that considerable damage seems to have been done to an incredibly valuable Whomping Willow," Snape went on. "That tree did more damage to us than we -" Ron blurted out, trying to defend them, but Harry kept his mouth shut, knowing talking would only make it worse. The Dursleys taught him that.
"Silence!" snapped Snape again. "Most unfortunately, you are not in my house, and the decision to expel you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who do have that happy power. You will wait here." Harry and Ron stared at each other, white-faced. Harry didn't feel hungry any more. He now felt extremely sick.
He tried not to look at a large, slimy something suspended in green liquid on a shelf behind Snape's desk. If Snape had gone to fetch Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, they were hardly any better off. She might be fairer than Snape, but she was still extremely strict.
I stopped listening to their thoughts when all Harry could think about was getting sent back to the Dursleys, and Ron could only imagine various scenarios of his mum throttling him. Since it was just me and the boys in the room now while Snape went to fetch, presumably McGonagall and Dumbledore, I decided to make myself known.
"Wow, you boys have really messed up this time, huh?"