Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor Chapter Twenty-One

Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor

Chapter Twenty-One: School work and oral exams



Disclaimer: Not mine, I own nothing. I’m not making any money.



WARNING: Harsh Language, adult themes, sexual situations (i.e. smut), bad spelling and grammar.



Author’s Notes: This story is a broad farce with over the top humor (a good deal of it is crude and sexual) and OOC actions (that’s Out Of Character if you don’t know). Also, this is my first smut-ish fic. If you don’t like sex and sex-based humor, do NOT read this!



Chapter Twenty-One: Term starts and Harry’s workload bogs him down. Thankfully a friend gives him an idea on how to relieve his stress.







The first few days of term were very stressful for Harry, to say the least. Every one of his instructors started their lessons by reiterating the fact that the seventh year students would be taking the aptly named N.E.W.T.’s in the near future. Each warned the students that this year would be particularly difficult. The professors gave a hint at just how difficult the year would be when they gave out their first assignments. Slughorn’s assignment required the students to read four lengthy chapters focusing on eight potions. The students then had to write four feet of parchment on each potion by the end of the week. McGonagall warned her students that they would have to master human transfiguration by end of the lesson on Friday. Even the usually jolly Sprout was deadly serious as she informed her students that they would be pruning the treacherous “Tithwillow Sponge-Shrub” causing a fair a number of Harry’s fellow students to shiver in fear.

The only classes that didn’t immediately overload Harry were Charms and DADA. Flitwick informed his class they would be mastering the difficult Patronus Charm. Our hero smiled triumphantly when Flitwick announced this assignment to the class with the ego-boosting comment of: “If you are having difficulty with the charm, you can talk with Mr. Potter, as he has already mastered it.”

But Harry’s pride was knocked down a little as the little professor continued: “Also, if you are concerned that you cannot focus on a happy enough thought required to cast a Patronus, take heart. I personally know of an Auror by the name of Nymphadora Tonks who was able to cast a wonderful Patronus even while being in a lasting and severe bout of depression. Clearly, if a severely depressed witch can successfully perform the charm, than it isn’t as hard as your peers, teachers, family, and politicians may have told you.”

The workload in DADA was even less than Charms. In fact, there was no workload whatsoever. When Harry and his fellow students walked into the classroom, they found this year’s instructor, a wizard by the name of Herbert Johnson-Thames, sitting behind his desk with his nose buried in a book. He didn’t bother to look up and greet the class as they entered. Nor did he even make a single sound acknowledging their presence. Hermione tried to get a response out of the wizard by walking up to the professor’s desk and introducing herself – of course she had to point out that she was Head Girl; she earned that right and she was going to do it, by Merlin. But apparently the fact that the Head Girl had just introduced herself to Johnson-Thames did not impress him. The wizard continued to stare directly at his book and disregard her existence.

Harry was starting to wonder if the professor was even alive. He hadn’t moved an inch, causing Harry to believe that Johnson-Thames must have had an aneurism right at the desk and died. But Harry’s speculation was dashed the moment the bell sounded and the professor began to read aloud from the lesson book.

“This year you … … higher spells and hexes in order to … yourself and others. Some of these spell … very difficult to … and many of you … … it incredibly difficult. But … not … . This incredibly informative book … … you how to … even the most difficult charm.”

On and on he went. He read in his odd broken way and still refused to look up from his book. Harry reckoned that Johnson-Thames must have been very nervous; that would explain the odd breaks as he spoke and why he wouldn’t look up. After about fifteen minutes of Johnson-Thames’ reading, the majority of the class began to fidget. Some of the students even began to do homework for other classes. Not that the professor seemed to care, he continued to read from the text.

“He’s just reading from the book?” Ron asked incredulously.

“It looks like McGonagall had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to get someone to teach Defense this year,” Harry sounded. “And all she could find was someone who can only read the book aloud.”

“Oh, he doing worse than just/ ‘only reading’/,” Hermione said with unhidden anger. “He’s reading the text, but for some reason, he’s skipping over all of the verbs.”

The bespectacled wizard was curious to see if his girlfriend was right. So Harry turned the pages in his book until he found the one that Johnson-Thames was reading from. Harry followed along as the professor read.

“For example, even a poorly … Shield Charm … effective against lower hexes and charms like Jelly-Legs. But a low powered Stun Hex … easily … through a poorly … Shield Charm. If you … … how to … a Shield Charm correctly, you … as well not … it at all.”

Sure enough, Johnson-Thames was dropping every single verb.

“Maybe he was hit with some sort of jinx that makes you skip over verbs?” speculated Harry.

“Or he has a phobia,” Ron hypothesized. “You know, the thought of verbs terrifies him so much that he can’t bear to read them.”

“Or perhaps he’s just a blithering idiot,” Hermione said contemptuously. It was clear she had no respect for Johnson-Thames; the wizard was wasting valuable time where Hermione could be learning something new. The idea of missing out on learning simply made her blood boil.

When the bell rang announcing the end of the lesson, Johnson-Thames simply stopped reading. He didn’t even bother to look up. All of the students waited patiently for their assignments… and waited. But the professor refused to speak. Hermione was so upset that not only had Johnson-Thames wasted a double lesson, but he didn’t hand out any homework either that she stomped to her next lesson in a huff.

Despite the fact that Harry had already mastered his Charms work and there was no DADA work, the assignments for the other classes were heavy enough that even Hermione balked at the sheer size of it.

Added onto this workload, McGonagall held true to her word. The returning class this year was so small that the professors didn’t need to break up lessons between the lower years and were able to lump all of the Houses from each year into one class. This gave McGonagall and all the other professors a lot of free time. Free time that the Headmistress used to tutor Harry and his friends.

She had spent an extra three hours everyday with Harry and his friends going over how to use basic Transfiguration in battle. The Headmistress reasoned that basic transfiguration was easy for a seventh year like Harry, but it wasn’t so easy in battle while your enemy is trying to hex you. For the first two days, Harry spent hours and hours trying to transfigure a beetle into a button while Ron, Luna, and Hermione fired off hexes at the bespectacled youth. The exercise proved very difficult. Harry had a hard time focusing on the proper incantation and wand movements while ducking and dodging his friends’ various hexes. What added to the difficulty Harry faced when trying to concentrate on the incantation was the realization that it was an utterly useless transfiguration. After all, Harry wasn’t a big fan of learning in small steps. On Wednesday, Flitwick joined McGonagall and the duo trained Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Luna how to combine Charms and Transfiguration so that they could animate objects much like Dumbledore had done when he had fought against Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic (this at least Harry found to have immediate and intrinsic benefits).

Harry’s stress was increased even further by his duties as Head Boy. Every night, he and Hermione had to patrol the halls of the castle after curfew, making sure no students were sneaking about. Every once in a while, he would see one of the Aurors that were assigned to protect Hogwarts. It felt good having the extra security.

By the fourth day, all the extra work made Harry look exhausted. His hair was a mess/ – more so than usual – and he had heavy bags under his eyes caused by lack of sleep. However, he was better off than his girlfriend. Hermione’s hair was a mess – more so than usual – /and she, too, had heavy bags under her eyes. But Harry was better off than Hermione in one aspect: he could sit down properly. Even though it had been four days since the Welcoming Feast, Hermione was still sore from the four-in-a-row shag-fest she and Harry had that night. The poor girl still had a noticeable limp. Of course, she had an ear-to-ear smile that accompanied that limp, so she wasn’t complaining.

One thing that made Harry’s days a little better was that he shared the same bed with Hermione. Mind you, they didn’t have sex because she was still sore (and he was too damn tired to perform), but it was still nice to simply cuddle and then wake up next to the woman he loved every morning.

Friday night, as Hermione patrolled the west wing looking for any students out past curfew, Harry searched the east wing, he came across Tonks’ friend and Auror-trainee, Courtney. She bounded up to the raven haired wizard and gave him a hug in greeting.

“Hiya, Courtney,” Harry said. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, this is my class’ week to patrol the castle,” she answered. “I’ve been stationed on the grounds since I got here. But this is the first time I’ve gotten the assignment to come inside. I haven’t been in here since I graduated; it feels so weird.”

“So how’s Tonks?” asked Harry.

“She’s as huge as a house and absolutely gorgeous,” Courtney answered with a big grin. “Tonks and Remus are so effing happy it’s contagious. She’s due any second now, thanks to that prank you and Hermione pulled.”

“That’s great,” Harry said with a smile.

The two began to walk down the hall and they continued their conversation.

“Oh, by the way, did anyone find out why those Death Eaters were trying to kidnap the girls from the train?” Harry asked. “Was it for a dark ritual or some form of blackmail plot against the Ministry?”

“Actually, we found out something very interesting when the prisoners were interrogated,” Courtney answered. “The girls weren’t nabbed for a ritual or for blackmail. The prisoners confirmed that You-Know-Who had no idea about the attack. Which makes sense; if he did know of the attack, he would’ve sent more than just a few of his followers.”

“Then why did they attack?” asked Harry.

“Well, according to the prisoners, You-Know-Who does a little contest every year to boost morale in his followers; it’s called/ ‘Little Miss Death Eater’,” /the Auror in training explained. “It’s basically a talent show for the Death Eaters’ daughters. The winner’s family gets a hundred galleons and a private dinner with He Who Must Not Be Named.

“Apparently, the Death Eaters who were involved in the attack on the train either didn’t have any daughters of their own, or their daughters were so ugly and untalented that they didn’t stand a chance in the competition,” Courtney continued.