Content Harry Potter
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Chapter 31: Consequences

Thank you to my Betas Donalddeutsch, Cateagle and Sparky40sw.


Professor Snape was not having the best night.   He had kept his word with the brat Potter.   He had not given the discipline the children and n’er-do-wells so desperately needed, as he had not managed to catch any actually in the act of breaking a written school rule.   It would come to a surprise of many that he actually knew the written rules of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from cover to cover without fail, it was just his opinion that the children of the school needed someone such as him to keep them honest.   Yet, he had gone through an entire school function without making one deviation from the hallowed book that stood on a pedestal in the library for all to see.  

Here it was, after one in the morning, and he was striding down the hall with Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall.   None of them were performing their normal professorial duties at the time.   They were, instead, walking swiftly to the Headmaster’s Office, which contained a student who was caught in very errant ways, to perform their grim duty.   Dumbledore was fulfilling his role as the Headmaster of the school, McGonagall was doing her duty as the Deputy Headmistress, and Snape was, himself, acting as the Head of Slytherin House.   The Slytherin house was supposed to contain the most cunning and ambitious of the students.   The plan enacted by the Founders was to sort the school by personality characteristics, and it had worked for more than a thousand years, but that was until it came against this one student.

Draco Malfoy was, certainly, not of the brave-to-a-fault stuff that Gryffindor would require.   Nor was he particularly intelligent and studious, as Ravenclaw membership would have required.   He could never in a million years be described as loyal and hardworking, and so Hufflepuff life was definitely out.   That had, of course, left only Slytherin.   The boy’s mind was so simple and his father’s dark influence was so strong that the sorting hat must have been able to tell from a meter away, as it took no time, barely a touch, to sort him as the responsibility of the unhappy Slytherin head.   Unfortunately, even before his sorting, he had typified the public stereotype of the typical Slytherin student without any of the redeeming features that Salazar would have cherished; the intelligence, the subtlety, or the cunning.

And so the Potions Professor was in a worse mood than he had been all year, as he walked up to the ridiculous stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster’s office of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.   Would this day get no better before he slept or would it all be just written off in a flurry of infuriating, happy giggling children and disappointing, stupid wannabe Slytherin princes?


Draco Malfoy’s consciousness swam back from the nap that he had managed to slip into in his supine position on the floor.   He immediately noticed that he was no longer tied and bound.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," said a less than friendly, authoritative voice from behind him.

Draco rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows.   After seeing the three professors in front of him, he scrambled to his feet and straightened his dress robes as best he could without being obvious.

"Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said sternly, "take a seat and we will proceed."   She indicated a lone seat on the visitor’s side of the massive headmaster’s desk.

Draco turned, imperiously, trying to regain his haughty pureblood stature.   He would not be treated any different than the pureblood heir that he was.   He stood in front of the indicated seat with a straight back and authoritative posture that he had seen his own father take in situations that called for power to be waved in the face of lessers, such as the Minister or the Board of Governors.   He decided to start off strong so that he was in control of the conversation.

"Who had the audacity to tie me, a Malfoy, up and why was I left on the floor of the Headmaster’s office for who knows how long?" he asked with his chin in the air.   He didn’t raise his voice, because even he was not that stupid, but he tried to put every ounce of position that he could into it.

"Mr. Malfoy," said Professor Snape with biting authority, "sit down and shut up!"

Draco opened his mouth as if to protest, but in truth was too shocked at his Head of House’s harsh behavior toward his favorite student.   He rapidly sat, holding back his protests.

"In answer to your question," started Professor McGonagall, "Miss Weasley was the one to restrain you and I was the one to place you in the Headmaster’s office at his request."

Draco flushed in anger.   "Why that interfering…how dare she!?!" he exploded.

"SILENCE!" roared Professor Snape.

Professor Dumbledore decided to weigh in before things truly got out of control.

"Quite so, Mr. Malfoy.   This is not a time for you to be talking.   Just listen," Professor Dumbledore said.   "It was quite fortuitous that young Miss Weasley stopped you when she did.   At the moment you are to be punished for the assault on Miss Brocklehurst, which can be handled within the confines of Hogwarts.   Had the events proceeded any further, you would be in a detention cell awaiting arraignment on charges of rape, for which you could receive as much as five years in Azkaban."

Draco bristled, "I did no such thing.   That bitch is a liar!"

"Now, Mr. Malfoy," said Professor Dumbledore in a patronizing voice, "Do you really wish for me to call an auror in with a forensic pensieve to obtain legal statements from Miss Weasley and Miss Brocklehurst in addition to Mr. Ford and Miss Blueshot who would offer testimony of seeing you enter the caves with the young lady.   Add that to the silencing spell and the interesting weakening spell that you cast on the unsuspecting young lady and the evidence creates quite an interesting picture of attempted rape.   This is a serious crime Mr. Malfoy.   You would do well to treat it as such."

Draco shifted in his chair uncomfortably.   He glanced at his Head of House to see if he could garner an ally from the Potions Professor.   The look of utter disgust and distain in Professor Snape’s eyes rocked the young Slytherin back in his chair.   Draco had always been the teacher’s favorite.   He had allowed Draco to get away with numerous violations without punishment before.   He had had great fun sabotaging Gryffindor potions with tacit approval from the Professor, particularly if it was Harry Potter’s potions set to be ruined.   But now there was only a cold look in his eyes, previously unfamiliar to Draco.   No help was to be found from Professor Snape.

Draco dropped his head at the change in his relationship with Professor Snape.   One glance at the other teachers in the room showed him no quarter.   He was defeated.   Even as he realized this defeat, the anger welled up inside of him.   How dare Snape, servant of the Dark Lord, go against the son of one of the Dark Lord’s inner circle?

He would pay.   But first, Draco had to do some acting to get out of this room, and the only way to affect that would be to appear to accept his punishment with grace.   Later he could report Snape’s behavior to their Lord.

"What…what is my punishment to be?" he asked, affecting a broken voice.

Professor Dumbledore breathed out a sign of exasperation.   "You will be restricted to the Slytherin common room and your own dorm for the remainder of the week and weekend, until…"

"What?" Draco interrupted, his ire bubbling to the surface.   "Restricted?   Isn’t that a bit much?"

"Do not interrupt the Headmaster, Mr. Malfoy," said Professor McGonagall in a terse voice.

"As I was saying, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Dumbledore continued, "this will only be until Sunday, at which time we will decide what your full punishment will be.   The restriction is to give the interested parties a chance to calm down and for your presence to not upset your victim."

Draco was fuming.   He was being treated like a common peasant!   "I will lodge a protest," he said.

"Feel free," Professor Dumbledore said.   "Now it is getting late and you should get your rest.   Professor Snape, would you please escort Mr. Malfoy back to his dorm?"

Severus gave a curt nod before guiding the misfit from the room.


"Do you imagine yourself to be the next dark lord?" asked Professor Snape after he steered his student into an unused classroom on the way back to the Slytherin common room.   "Do you imagine that this is how my Lord acted when he was a student here?   Do you imagine that he held as little cunning and intelligence as you have exhibited in your school career?   Tell me, what is it that you were thinking?"

Draco was incensed.   "I," he gave particular emphasis to himself, "am just what our dark lord wants in his followers.   What would he care what I did to little mudblood tramps?"

"You know nothing about what the Dark Lord requires," Snape said.   "He requires servants that can follow orders and dish out what chaos he deems suitable when he deems it.   He wants followers that can do as he wishes without raising the suspicions of every lightsider on the continent.   You are next to useless to him.   You are nothing compared to what he was when he was but a student here.   He was charming, cunning and intelligent.   You, however, seem to lack the ability to use your brain and pick the best time and actions to further any type of goals."   The Professor took a breath.   "He was able to learn and grow more powerful without the professors becoming the wiser.   He made all of the preparations to leave school and become great, learning magic that none have known for many years.   You, on the other hand, seem to be little more than a punk.   You would hardly qualify as more than a brute, certainly not one of his inner circle."

"That’s what you know.   I’m the prince of Slytherin and will be at his right hand after I leave school," Draco said.

"You silly, stupid boy.   You know nothing!" Snape shouted.   "A proper Slytherin would be cunning and respected.   He would have the rest of the school eating out of his hands not looking sideways at him with caution.   You have all of the darkness and lack of moral fiber that oozes from the Slytherin stereotype without the cunning and intelligence necessary to make yourself a great Slytherin.   A great Slytherin would conceal his true bent until it served him best to reveal himself. You, however, have never once concealed your true nature, as a Slytherin should.   You are an open book for all to read. You seem to be only capable of dragging the Noble House of Slytherin down.   You are hardly worthy of gaining entrance to the dungeons, much less being hailed as the Slytherin Prince by anyone but yourself and our detractors."

"I will tell him what you have done and not done tonight," Draco claimed, "and then I will have my revenge on you and the rest of those muggle lovers.   He will punish you for not protecting one of his followers.   You wait and see."

"I will, if you are so confident," offered Professor Snape with an evil sneer, "go to him right now and report the occurrences of tonight and let him judge who was in the right.   He will find that you are next to useless to him in the school now.   You will not have the freedom of movement necessary to operate in his interest and you will be watched for any wrongdoing.   What you did tonight was thoughtless and brainless.   After this, you are only good for killing and raping muggles, never anything that would require subterfuge or cunning."

"If not for that meddling Muggle Loving Weasel I would not have had any trouble tonight," Draco said.   "I’ll have my revenge on her and will come out on top."

"You are more stupid than I thought.   Potter will protect her and if you harm her, you are forfeit.   You touch a hair on her head," declared the Professor, "and Potter will have us scraping you from the walls," he assured.   "If you do anything toward her, the best thing that could happen to you is expulsion.   Mark my words…do not mess with her.   The Dark Lord will make any plans that are to be made to deal with her.   Once he knows of your ineptness, he’ll deal with you."

Professor Snape ended the lecture without waiting for an acknowledgement of his warnings and steered Malfoy roughly by the back of his neck to the entrance to the common room before roughly tossing him in on his face.


"I don’t see him," Ginny said.   She sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall during lunchtime the day after the ball.   By unanimous independent determination, all students fourth year and above, had skipped breakfast, leaving a sparse gathering at breakfast indeed, with just the younger years.   However, for lunch, hunger had brought the older students to bear.

"Who?" Neville asked.

"Malfoy," she spat.

"Oh, we were wondering what happened with him," Neville said, motioning to Luna at his side to explain the ‘we’.

She got a curious look on her face.   "Why?   What did you hear?"

Luna smiled in her aloof manor.   Neville replied, "We still don’t know what he did, but he’s locked up in the Slytherin common room for the rest of the week and that’s not even his real punishment.   Apparently the punishment is still up for debate.   The professors gave themselves time to calm down and before assigning his punishment."

"Oh," Ginny said, "I guess that it’s a good start for a punishment if this is just for a warm-up."

Neville perked up.   He leaned forward, closer to Ginny, whispering, "What’d he do?"

"Assault," she answered, matter-of-factly.   "Must not have listened to Professor Dumbledore when he said that the caves were warded to protect the students."   She smiled, recalling her treatment of him.   "Serves him right."

"Mandy has always had a crush on him," Luna said with her standard dreamy expression.   To the outside observer, it would seem a completely disconnected statement, but Ginny’s eyes snapped to the young Ravenclaw.

She felt more than heard Harry slip next to her.   "Hey, Gin," he whispered seductively into her ear, "Ya wanna get some animal practice in today?"   The tickle of his breath on her ear drove her to distraction and caused a momentary misinterpretation of his question.   She felt her body thrum at the thought but immediately blushed when she reran his question and realized what he wanted.   Oh, the disappointment.   Keep going slow, girl.   Patience.


With a mixture of disappointment and pleasure, Ginny and Harry settled down with colored inkwells and wide rolls of parchment to work on their next task on the road to becoming an animagus.   Not exactly the best sort of ‘Animal Practice’ that she could think of, but it would be a nice project to finish.   They were to draw, from memory, their animal forms, accurately and precisely.   Any shortcuts or inaccuracies in the perspective animals would render the change a failure.

The interesting thing about an animagus transformation was that it’s easier to learn if one had an artistic leaning.   Treating the form as an art subject, to be studied from all angles and drawn meticulously, cut down on the learning portion of the transformation, easily the most time consuming phase.   Professor McGonagall had said that sculpting would also work, but drawing seemed easier to the couple.   Dozens of drawings would be necessary to build a three dimensional model of an animal in the back recesses of their minds, the hair/feathers, the skin, the fatty layers, the muscle and sinew, the heart, liver, lungs, stomach, intestines, throat, eyes, brains and bone, not to mention all of the other minor and major building blocks of a body.   Drawings of both the inside and outside of the animal were necessary.   It was all a lot of work, which they were happy to do, as the end was on the horizon.

Ginny lost track of her own efforts as she turned her gaze on Harry, his brow furrowed in concentration and a sparkle in his eye.

"Hmm," Ginny purred, "I love watching you work on this project.   You seem to enjoy the art aspect of it."

"Yeah, I like the art stuff," he said, "but the thought of being able to transform into something new is what drives me.   At this rate we should be done in another month."   He shot her a brilliant smile.

That smile warmed her; heart and soul.   She could live a happy life staring into those smiling emerald eyes.

She looked over at his stack of drawings.   Once drawn, they had nearly outlived their usefulness.   The important part was the act of drawing in the first place.

"Harry?" she inquired.   "What are you going to do with your drawings when you’re done?"

He smiled at her.   "I thought that we could gather them in order and trim them to the same size and bind them in some dragon leather.   Sort of make a picture book of our other personas."

She smiled back.   "That would be nice," she said.   "But I was thinking that we could frame one of each of ours, the outside view of course, for later, when we each have our houses."

Or maybe just one house, Harry thought.


The rest of the week proceeded quietly and pleasantly.  Without Draco underfoot, classes with Slytherin were tame.   Hermione had noted more than once to Harry and Ron, what a much better learning environment the school could be, without the constant harassment the blond Slytherin spewed.

Harry entered the Headmaster’s office for their weekly progress meetings.   To make things easier, Harry carried with him a journal that Hermione had charmed of her own invention.   During the week he would record any new spells that he learned or attempted and a very creative charm would record his progress and proficiency at each spell that he knew.   Each week was recorded for the Professor’s perusal.

"Hello Harry," the Headmaster said, beginning the pleasantries that helped to cement their relationship after the strains of the past.   Friendly banter ensued on the goings-on of the school.   This broke to the progress reports on Voldemort and the Order before transitioning to Harry himself.

"May I see your progress, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry handed over the black leather journal and watched expectantly as the Professor read through his accomplishments.

"Very good progress, Harry, one hundred and fifty four minutes of casting is a remarkable feat," Dumbledore said.   "If, someday, you get tired of your independent study, I would be glad to bring in some tutors to assist you several times per week."

"I think that the current arrangement is working fine, sir," Harry said, not wanting to give up his independence.

Dumbledore smiled through his beard.   "Good, Harry.   I believe that you are learning more spells now than you would be if your lessons were more structured.   At this point in your training, it would be best to learn all of the spells that you are able.   In a duel, a large repertoire of spells can keep your opponent on their toes and afford you more time to gain the advantage."

"Thank you," Harry said.   "I’d appreciate any suggestions of spells that you may think that I haven’t found yet."

The Headmaster stroked his long beard in contemplation.   "I may have just the book that you need."

He flicked his wand and a small book floated from the shelves to the right of the fireplace.

"This book, Harry," Dumbledore said, "contains a great many spells, displaying their incantation and their wand movements only." Dumbledore smiled.   "You will find this book different from your standard book of spells.   These are combat spells, both defensive and offensive, by an author that believed in knowing a great depth of spells as well as a great breadth of variety.   Each spell is grouped by effects, such as stunning spells, with the power of the spell increasing the further into the group that it is listed.   Unfortunately, you will not find the tips and information on each spell that you are accustomed to, but you may find that if you need it, you can look each spell up in the library."   Dumbledore smiled again.   "I sincerely doubt that you will have any trouble with the spells listed.   Just do be careful."

Harry reached forward and took the offered book reverently.   "Thank you, sir."

"Not a problem, Harry," Dumbledore said.   "Just remember to note the spells that you attempt in your remarkable journal.   Miss Granger really must think of producing these commercially.   I am sure that Madame Bones would be interested in the idea for her Auror trainees."

Harry grinned.   "I’ll pass on the advice to Hermione."

"Very good."

"Sir," Harry said, "May I ask, what are you going to do with Malfoy?"

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said, "After discussing the matter with Professors Snape and McGonagall, and conferring with Miss Brocklehurst, we have decided that, for the remainder of the first term, young Mr. Malfoy shall be on restricted movement.   He will attend classes and take his meals in the Slytherin common room.   He may be escorted to the library twice a week but otherwise he is to be in his classes or in the Slytherin dungeon," the Headmaster said with satisfaction.   "His mother, as he is underage, has agreed to this punishment."

Harry’s eyes grew big.   "Mrs. Malfoy agreed?" he asked in surprise.   "I would have loved to be a fly on the wall for that."


Professor Snape’s week had improved greatly after the day of the ball.   He had managed to follow the letter of his agreement with Potter, sometimes reverting to some of the more obscure written rules, but written ones nonetheless.   As a bonus, the complaints from other teachers had dried up thoroughly with his ‘Slytherin Prince’ locked up.   To his surprise, he had even found time to experiment in his personal access potions lab, separate from the unclean, pockmarked classroom the students of the school used.   In the four full days since the ball he had nearly emptied the container of basilisk powder, often to the effect of having several tables full of softly simmering cauldrons turning out the contents of the ancient potions book that he had been given by his least favorite student.

He entered the dungeon potions laboratory where he needed to attend to a few potions that had simmered over night, hopefully thickening to the correct consistency.   He had already rediscovered a healing potion that would improve care for the insufferable brats that landed themselves in the hospital wing and hoped to explore the addition of the last of his powder in a wolfsbane potion, which Arithmancy dictated should improve the palatability and could have effects on the pain of transformation for werewolves.       Only testing on his favorite werewolf guinea pig would give true scientific results.

He rounded his desk in the front to see a large jar, nearly half a meter in height, sitting on his stiff wooden chair.   Seeing the greenish grey powder that it contained, his face nearly broke as the corner of his lip turned up into the faintest of smiles.   Who would have guessed that Potter would fulfill his side of the bargain?


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