Chapter 192

~ 84 Advanced Chapters Available now on my Patreon! Trapped in the form of a unicorn, Poppy could no longer indulge in her beloved pastime of savoring fine food—a luxury now far beyond her reach. But being able to frolic joyfully with everyone today brought some comfort to her heart. “Quidditch practice tomorrow, Harry,” Oliver Wood’s voice called from behind Harry. “Lads—” “And lasses,” Angelina Johnson interjected.  “Right, and lasses,” Wood added. “I’ve already got Madam Hooch’s permission.” “Can I come watch your practice?” Poppy asked eagerly, barely containing her excitement. Of course she wanted to watch. After all, the first time she saw Harry’s Quidditch match and the first time she observed his training weren’t with Veratia. Beating Grindelwald in some small way was a victory worth celebrating. “Of course, Miss Poppy,” Wood said with a hearty chuckle. “First, you’re a school governor. Second, you’re our queen, and…” Here, Wood lowered his voice conspiratorially. “You never take that old bat seriously.” Poppy raised her head delightedly and let out two cheerful whinnies. Nearby, Marcus Flint bared his teeth, already scheming some mischief. The next morning, Harry trudged to the Quidditch pitch with the sleepy Gryffindor team, their eyes still heavy with slumber. To their shock, Slytherin was already there, training on the field. “Flint!” Wood shouted, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Madam Hooch promised us the pitch this morning. It belongs to Gryffindor! How could you do this?” Marcus Flint descended on his broom, unhurriedly pulling a written order from his robes. It read: Wood’s face flushed with rage upon reading the order, and he nearly tore it to shreds on the spot. But he restrained himself. If he destroyed the order, who knew how the Slytherins, with their knack for exaggeration, would spin the tale? That old bat might make his life miserable. Points deductions were the least of his worries—detention in the Slytherin dungeons, handling Flobberworms… he’d rather leap from the Astronomy Tower. “I’ll go find Professor Snape!” Poppy huffed, stomping off, but Wood called her back. “Forget it, Miss Poppy. We’ll head back and catch some sleep, then practice tomorrow.” He turned to her again. “Besides, as a Hogwarts governor, your authority outweighs Snape’s. I think you should issue the order for us to train here tomorrow.” Suddenly feeling needed, Poppy’s unicorn existence seemed to shimmer with newfound purpose. “Really? You need me? I mean… really need me? I’ll sign it right now… do you have a quill?” “Of course. Let’s head to the Great Hall, Miss Poppy,” Wood said with a grin, motioning for the team to follow. At the Gryffindor table, Percy Weasley looked up curiously. “Wood, weren’t you lot off to Quidditch practice? Why are you back so soon?” “Because Slytherin stole the pitch!” Wood said indignantly. “Marcus Flint had a written order from Professor Snape. We couldn’t do anything about it.” “You should stand up for yourself, Wood,” Percy said. “If you want to practice, be bold. Tell Professor Snape ‘no’ to his face.” “Oh, spare us, Percy,” one of his twin brothers scoffed. “You’re a prefect. Why don’t go pick a fight with Snape? Why give our Captain Wood a hard time?” “I reckon our dear prefect’s just talking big,” Angelina said, rolling her eyes. “Exactly, lads!” Wood said with a laugh. “And lasses,” Angelina added pointedly. “Right, and lasses,” Wood amended, giving Angelina a nod for her earlier quip. Percy opted for silence, his usual tactic. Sure enough, the next day, Slytherin didn’t dare encroach on Gryffindor’s training slot. After all, a governor’s word carried far more weight than Snape’s. Snape, meanwhile, was slapped with a fifty-Galleon budget cut—a penalty Poppy personally submitted to Dumbledore. Dumbledore, who had long been irked by Snape’s penchant for docking points from other houses, gleefully approved the punishment. With Poppy taking the initiative, how could he refuse? When announcing the penalty, however, Dumbledore expressed “deep regret” and assured Snape that it was merely the decision of the governors. In principle, he sympathized with Snape. Snape: So the headmaster gets to play both the good cop and the bad cop? When word spread that Miss Poppy, a governor, had successfully enforced Snape’s punishment, the entire school—except Slytherin—erupted in celebration. Slytherin’s festivities were kept private, confined to their dormitories. After all, Snape was their head of house. Celebrating his misfortune as a Slytherin student would be rather unbecoming, wouldn’t it? That evening, Newt Scamander faced a dilemma of his own. He was struggling. A letter had arrived from America. “What’s wrong, Newt?” Tina asked, her voice laced with concern. Newt sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Something big is happening in America,” he told her. “There are reports of magical creatures being slaughtered en masse across the country. Every one of them drained of blood. Alonso suspects it’s the work of some undiscovered magical creature.” “That doesn’t add up,” Tina said, picking up the letter and scanning it. “Look, on December 22nd, it happened in California—but that same afternoon, the same thing was reported in Florida, on the East Coast. I don’t think any creature could cross that distance so quickly.” Newt hadn’t noticed that detail. He wasn’t overly familiar with America, being British and having only visited once on official business—where someone had grilled him about why Dumbledore was so fond of him. But Tina was different. A native-born American, she knew the geography well and understood the vast distance between the West and East Coasts. “Maybe… there are multiple creatures?” Newt suggested, frowning. “Unlikely,” Tina countered. “If it’s an undiscovered magical creature, something like this would’ve happened long ago, not just now.” “It’s not impossible,” Newt said, setting the letter down, picking it up, and putting it down again. Finally, he sighed. “Forget it. This is the American Ministry’s headache, not mine. Besides, they banned me from entering the country ages ago.” “That’s ancient history, Newt,” Tina said softly. Newt still hadn’t let go of that grudge. He snorted, shoving the letter aside. “Alonso wants my opinion on what this creature might be because he thinks I’m the magical creatures expert,” Newt said, mostly to himself. “But based on their descriptions, I’m inclined to think it’s vampires. No known magical creature is obsessed with blood.” “Maybe,” Tina said dismissively. “Our priority right now is helping Poppy… get her human body back. Merlin, I feel so awful for her. I know Hufflepuffs—how much you lot love food and life. I can’t imagine the pain she’s enduring.” “Sometimes, Grindelwald makes a point,” Newt said with a sigh. “He called Harry the ‘scar-headed, bespectacled beast’ and said he’s caused no end of trouble. So many girls have crossed time and paid a terrible price for him. Look—Poppy’s a ghost and a unicorn, Miss Grindelwald lost her magic. I dread to think what price Miss Malfoy will pay.” “Grindelwald?” Tina’s eyes narrowed. “Merlin’s beard, what’s that man been telling you? Didn’t I warn you not to trust a single punctuation mark that comes out of his mouth? And you actually think he’s right?” “He makes sense,” Newt said helplessly. “He doesn’t want his sister with Harry, so he’s trying to pair Poppy with him. In other words, he wants to join us to oppose his sister.” “That’s a thing?” Tina asked, stunned. “Yeah, I don’t know why he’s doing it, but I can sort of understand,” Newt said, hesitating. “I don’t see anything wrong with what he’s saying. Making Poppy happy is what matters most.” “That’s like negotiating with a dragon, Newt,” Tina said gravely. “Even if we succeed, what then? He and Miss Grindelwald are siblings, bound by blood forever. Do you think she’d take his life over this? But we’re different. I wouldn’t put it past an enraged Miss Grindelwald to take it out on us.” “Whether we work with him or not, we’ll face her wrath,” Newt said, shaking his head. “So a temporary alliance with him isn’t a big deal. The situation’s clear now—you, me, Theseus, and Grindelwald all firmly support Poppy. As for Miss Grindelwald, it seems only Dumbledore backs her.” “Sorry, Newt,” Tina said with a cold laugh. “I don’t believe for a second that Grindelwald truly supports Poppy. He’s just dead-set against Harry and his sister being together.” Newt sat up straight. Tina’s summation was so spot-on he couldn’t argue. “But that’s not a bad thing, is it?” Newt said lightly. “If he were devoted to Poppy, I’d question his motives. Since he’s just opposing his sister and Harry, there’s nothing to doubt. That’s the kind of person he is.” “Miss Grindelwald must rue the day she got a brother like him,” Tina said, shaking her head. In her mind, if Gellert were her brother, she’d string him up on the ceiling and leave him there! It’s a curious thing—when it comes to punishing troublesome brothers, sisters worldwide seem to converge on the same methods. Even someone as even-tempered as Tina thought this way. One could only imagine how much Gellert must exasperate his sister. Tina, of course, didn’t know that Gellert had also pocketed the crucial alchemical ingredient needed to save his sister. If she had, she might’ve joined in giving Gellert a proper thrashing. Still uneasy, Newt forwarded the matter to Dumbledore’s office. Upon reading the letter, Dumbledore furrowed his brow, pondering for a long while but coming up with nothing. As Hogwarts’ headmaster, he couldn’t just gallivant off. Besides, the American Ministry, much like their Muggle counterparts, was notoriously arrogant. They’d never invite an outsider like Dumbledore to meddle in their affairs. Even if he went, he’d be unwelcome. So Dumbledore decided to steer clear. Let it be— as long as it wasn’t Britain’s problem. Time flew by, and soon it was the following Friday. Draco Malfoy felt utterly miserable. Normally, time dragged on, so why was it racing now? But there was no escaping it—he had to face Potions class. “Come on, Draco,” Crabbe and Goyle cheered him on. Pansy massaged his shoulders, trying to ease his tension. Draco was screaming internally, but his face remained calm, betraying none of his nerves. It was just saying to Professor Snape. How hard could it be? Slytherin played to win! A bet was a bet! Moments later, Professor Snape swept into the classroom. Upon spotting Poppy standing at the back, Snape’s expression twisted with discomfort. In all his life, he’d only suffered such a blow at the hands of James Potter. Reluctantly, he admitted to himself that this unicorn was different from that Potter git. Miss Unicorn wasn’t a bad sort. But the lesson was torture for Snape. He could no longer gleefully deduct points from Gryffindor as he once did. Forget Gryffindor—he couldn’t even dock Slytherin points carelessly. It was suffocating. What was the point of life if he couldn’t torment Gryffindor, the house James Potter had called home? But he had no choice. As a governor, Poppy could override his point deductions—a power granted by Lucius Malfoy and a gleefully meddlesome Dumbledore. Certified by both the headmaster and the chair of the governors, the authority was ironclad. Ron was frantic, as were the other Gryffindors. Whenever Snape wasn’t looking, they’d turn and signal Draco to say the words. But Draco hesitated, unwilling to speak. Unwilling was one thing—more than that, he was terrified. He knew Snape’s connection to his father. If Snape went straight to his parents… As Seamus turned and winked at Draco, a piece of chalk flew and struck Seamus on the head. “No whispering during class, Mr. Finnigan,” Snape said icily. “Two points from Gryffindor.” Poppy didn’t object to the deduction. Seamus had indeed misbehaved. “Shh,” Neville whispered, gesturing to Seamus. “Don’t worry. Malfoy will keep his promise.” The lesson dragged on, with Draco barely paying attention. Thankfully, it was a theory class with no practical brewing. In his state, Draco would’ve surely botched the potion. “Stop sulking, Draco,” Pansy whispered. “It’s just one sentence.” Draco thought, Hmph. As the bell approached, Draco finally mustered his courage. When Snape announced the end of class, Draco bolted to the door, turned, and shouted, “Greasy old bat! I want to wash your hair!” With that, he spun and sprinted away, as if fearing Snape would catch him red-handed. Snape froze. The entire class did too. Then, the students collectively stifled their laughter, each conjuring the saddest memory they could to keep from bursting out. Laughing in front of Professor Snape would likely end their academic careers. Snape stood stunned for only a moment before recovering. “Draco Malfoy!” he roared, his expression bloodthirsty, as if he’d just crawled out of the underworld. --- Support me & read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon .com/windkaze