People, Year 2, Part 2

Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.

AN: Timeline of these snippets is wobbly at best – I might repost them in something close to an order once I manage to write all of them. All mistakes are my own.

...

Groose

Groose, Link reflected wryly, was incapable of entering any room without making an entrance. Some of those entrances were more flattering than others – Groose strutting in, a glint to his grin and his hair a beacon crying for attention. This Tuesday evening's entrance into the Great Hall for supper was one of his less flattering entrances.

It started off well enough – with the large door opening with a slam, and Groose using his usual swaggering walk. But Groose did not look well at all – his robes were stained with lime green and maroon splotches, he was missing his left shoe, his pompadour was sagging, and he was carrying a cauldron that was partially melted. The dried tail of a newt was attached to the rim.

Link's eyes flicked to the staff table and, yes, there was Professor Snape, wearing a look of utter disdain.

"I was wondering how we lost that particular batch of points," Ginny murmured to Colin as an aside.

"The Groose is here, no need to cheer," Groose said humbly, taking a place near Link at the Gryffindor table. The boisterous first year was having trouble connecting with people in his year, despite his best (overblown) efforts.

"Would you mind if I did a cleaning charm?" Link asked. Katie Bell had pulled Link aside and forced Link to learn the charm once she grew tired of the younger boy asking for help getting stains out of his signature cap. "It might help with some of the splotches."

Groose put his mostly-melted cauldron down on the table with a slam. The newt tail flew off and landed in the pudding. "There's a spell for that?"

"Yeah, there sure is Groose," Link smiled a little. Groose talked a big game, but at heart he was just as enamored with each little piece of magic as Colin was. "Scourgio!"

With a flick of Link's wand the purple splotches disappeared – but Groose's robes turned forest green. "Oops," Link frowned, and quietly practiced his wand movements again. "Well, in any case, your robe is no longer stained."

"Woah, it's all green now," Groose said, his eyes wide. He patted himself down, then grabbed a corner of the fabric to inspect the color change in closer quarters.

"So, uh, Groose, how did Potions go?" Ginny asked, unable to resist kicking the hornet's nest.

"Well, heh, that's a funny story," he glanced nervously towards the staff table, where Snape continued to sport the dourest of expressions. "It started during roll call…"

.

"Ah, yes," Snape said softly. "Groose Greyfeather. You found your way to the Gryffindor table…eventually." Many students tittered under their breaths, but Snape quelled them with a look. "You'd best invest in a map, Mr. Greyfeather. It would be a …shame to be lost in these dungeons."

.

"That wasn't very kind of Professor Snape," Luna commented, sipping her pumpkin juice.

"I'd like a map, though," Link considered. "A really nice map of Hogwarts, and maybe a compass that points to treasure chests."

"You do realize that's not how compasses work, right, Link?" Colin asked. "Or, at least normal compasses."

"A magical compass, maybe," Ginny pondered the point. "Though would it only point at one treasure at a time, or what?"

"Points to whichever treasure is closest," Link clarified through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "So, what happened next, Groose?"

"Snape had us start the potion right away…"

.

The directions for an "absurdly…simple" Tickling Tincture were scribbled onto the chalkboard in cramped text. Each step bled into the next with very little space. Groose struggled to gather the correct ingredients from the jars along the walls, and, unlike almost everybody else, did not have a partner to bounce ideas against. One of the Gryffindors, a girl with long red hair, cast an apologetic look in his direction, but was dragged back to focus by her partner. Another boy, a gangly Slytherin, also had no partner, but he was cradling one of ingredients – the wings of a moth - in his hands.

.

"Poor Strich," Link frowned, feeling bad for the bug-loving boy.

.

Groose assembled his ingredients haphazardly, slicing the pickled cabbage haphazardly and eyeballing the amount of mushroom dust to add after step four – or was it five? He added the dandelion stems at the last moment, forgetting to include them with the cabbage during step two.

.

"You added the dandelion stems after the newt tails?" Luna asked. Groose nodded. "Interesting," she stared into the middle distance. "That would explain quite a bit."

.

The reaction started slowly, with low bubbles burbling while Groose tried to read whether he should stir counterclockwise after six or eight clockwise stirs. After Groose compromised with seven stirs – close enough, right? – the reaction grew more violent, bubbles overflowing, a swirl of green and magenta tipping over the edge of the cauldron.

Across the room, Snape sneered. "Having trouble, Mr. Grayfeather? I'm certain you have the courage to - "

The potion erupted, a veritable flow of semi congealed ingredients shooting into the air, the majority falling onto Groose. With a lazy spell Snape mitigated most of the damage, but left Groose's cauldron partially melted and the boy himself stained green and purple.

.

"Ouch," Colin commiserated. "That almost happened to me, once, but Talo caught me before I started stirring. Still didn't get any points that day, though."

Groose appeared heartened to hear that other people made similar potions mistakes. "I don't know if my 'do' will ever recover," Groose admitted with a whisper, attempting to style his hair once more.

"I have full confidence in your hair's ability to bounce back from this," Link pronounced. "And I'm confident you will too. Though, I have to ask, that explains the stains…but what happened to your shoe?"

Groose looked down, gaping at his bare toes. "I-I don't know," he stammered. "Is there a staircase that eat shoes?"

"Maybe," Link shared a look with Luna, and pulled out his wand. "Let's make it a quest!"

…

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan

The air was crisp and clear, the Hogwarts grounds bathed in the golden glow of an autumn morning. The giant squid was performing lazy backstrokes on the lake. The crimson robes of the Gryffindor Quidditch team could be seen zooming around the Quidditch pitch, doubtlessly spurred on by Oliver Wood's manic energy.

"Good morning, good morning," Dean Thomas said, addressing the moderately sized crowd of students before him. He was standing on top of a boulder, next to his best friend, Seamus Finnegan. "Welcome to the first meeting of Footballers Revitalizing Objectively better Games, or F.R.O.G.s, for short."

The crowd gave an enthusiastic shout.

"I thought we were called Hogwarts United!" Link heckled from the back of the crowd. Ginny elbowed him.

Link was ignored, and Seamus picked up where Dean left off. "Our goal – and yes that was a pun, deal with it – is to help the glorious, unmatched sport of football sweep the wizarding world as it has already swept the muggle world."

"Quidditch is loads of fun, sure. I mean, flying? That's awesome," Dean said. "But the way Quidditch is set up here at Hogwarts only 28 players get to play in the tournament every year. We want to open up the playing field a little bit, and football is just the way to do that."

"F.R.O.G.s is an organization that isn't affiliated with any particular house," Seamus continued. "We're all here to play the game. So, let's get to it – the rules are you can't use your hands, and you try to get the ball into the opposing team's goal."

"We'll get into the details later – for now let's just play ball!"

…

Neville Longbottom

"Hey Neville," Link said, plopping into the squishy armchair next to the older boy.

Neville jumped a little, his pen swiping haphazardly across parchment. "Whah? Oh, hey, Link. You need help with Herbology already?" he said, resigned. Link required a lot of tutoring.

"First lesson is tomorrow," Link said, and while he wouldn't admit to being worried, precisely, Link preferred to have a plan on hand. "Any tips you could give me? Specific plants I shouldn't stab?"

"All of the plants, Link," Neville reminded him. "You shouldn't be stabbing any of the plants. In fact, most of my tutoring seems to be training in how not to stab or slash or burn all of the plants to the ground."

"You're a very good teacher," Link said earnestly. "I only trimmed one Venemous Tentacula during the final exam last year."

"And I'm very proud of that," Neville smiled a little, sounding fond despite himself. "But Link, this year you're going to step up your game. Professor Sprout's got another batch of Mandrakes, so you'll spend a lot of the year caring for and repotting them."

"Mandrakes?" Link asked. "Like the Mandrakes in the Mandrake Restorative Draught that un-petrified Colin and Harry and Nick and Mrs. Norris?"

"Exactly," Neville said, pleased. "Mandrakes are delicate and dangerous plants. They're like little plant people, growing under the ground."

"Plant people? I like plant people, some of my best friends are plant people," Link perked up, thinking of the Koroks he grew up exploring the Lost Woods with.

"Thanks," Neville said, thinking Link was talking about him. "But Mandrakes are dangerous, too, Link. Full grown, their cry will kill you. Even when they're little their screams will knock you out right quick," he said the last bit a little sheepishly.

"Cool," said Link, a little bit excited. He wondered whether he could use a baby Mandrake to knock out a group of (currently hypothetically, but statistically likely to appear) enemies. "So, just don't stab them?"

"And don't take off your earmuffs," Neville nodded. "There's more, but that's enough for you to be going on, I think."

…

AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I might take next week off - I'm sure a lot of you share this feeling, but it has been a very emotionally draining month. It's hard to put myself in the right frame of mind to write something light and happy. *Goes to pet dog*