What’s Wrong with You?
Scabbers?
10: Chapter 10: Scabbers!
What’s Wrong with You?
Scabbers?
“Fear Descent.” Ivan touched the wand tip to Scabbers’ head.
The grey-black rat exploded into motion.
Its eyes snapped wide open.
A high, piercing shriek tore from its throat.
Powerful hind legs kicked off the desk and it shot to the floor, scattering cups and small ornaments as it tore around the dormitory in pure panic.
Ivan finally relaxed.
The effect was far stronger than expected.
The Fear Curse worked on the exact opposite principle of a Patronus.
A Patronus required the caster to focus on a happy memory.
The Fear Curse required the caster to force a vivid, terrifying image or experience straight into the target’s mind—like a reverse Legilimency laced with pure horror.
He had pictured Scabbers being chased by a large black dog.
Because the rat had been asleep, the nightmare and the spell had fused.
The result was much more powerful than a simple waking application.
While he was still pleased with the successful cast, Ron and Harry burst through the dormitory door, drawn by the noise.
Harry took one look at the wreckage and wondered if he had walked into the wrong room.
Before he could speak, Ron spotted the frantic grey shape.
“Oh no—Scabbers!
Scabbers, what’s wrong with you?” Ron’s voice cracked.
He lunged across the room, diving onto Neville’s bed in an attempt to grab the rat as it streaked past.
Scabbers, still trapped in the black-dog vision, treated Ron as the nightmare itself.
It vanished under the bed frame with a soft whoosh, leaving Ron scrabbling uselessly after it.
“Ivan, what happened in here?” Harry asked, looking at the boy still standing calmly by the desk.
“I was practicing a few spells.” Ivan shrugged, then added with mild guilt, “There might have been a small accident.” Harry glanced at Ron, now grey with dust and still empty-handed under the table.
The accident did not look small.
He sighed.
“We’re going to be catching a rat all night, aren’t we?” It did not take the entire night.
After a chaotic stretch of searching, Ivan remembered he was a wizard.
He waited for the right moment and used Levitation to float the book Scabbers had hidden under—rat and all.
The farce ended.
For the next several days Ron remained quietly furious.
Ivan, knowing he was in the wrong, apologized properly and bought a large bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans as emergency rations for Scabbers.
With Harry mediating, Ron eventually let the matter drop.
Hermione, upon hearing the story, openly mocked Ron for caring more about a rat than his friends.
The resulting argument nearly drove Ron spare.
After that, Ron became almost obsessively protective.
He started bringing Scabbers to class and kept glancing around as if someone might try to harm the rat at any moment.
Ivan returned to his strict routine: classroom, library, dormitory.
He worked through more of the basic texts, scraped together enough Academic Points for a second Top Student Experience Card, and steadily pushed his spell proficiencies higher.
The improvement showed in class.
Most professors began giving him Excellent evaluations.
Only Professor Binns remained stuck on Average.
In Charms and Transfiguration the change was especially noticeable—both spells had reached Level 2.
On one occasion he transformed a wooden board a fraction faster than Hermione.
Harry and Ron stared as if he had grown horns.
Further progress slowed.
Each new level required double the proficiency of the last.
Outside of study he began searching for the Room of Requirement—somewhere private to test stronger spells without risking the Gryffindor common room.
He remembered only that it was opposite a tapestry.
After so many years the exact location had faded.
Several days of searching turned up nothing.
The routine finally broke on the Friday of the second week, when Harry received an invitation from Hagrid.
Good news always came with bad.
That same morning they had a double Potions class with the Slytherins.
“I wish we could skip this morning,” Ron muttered as they walked the corridor.
“Snape’s the Head of Slytherin.
George told us to be careful.” He paused to feed Scabbers another bean from his palm.
“That can’t be right,” Hermione objected.
“Professor McGonagall is a Head of House too, and I’ve never seen her show favouritism.” “It’s not just me.
Loads of the older Gryffindors say the same thing.” Ron dismissed her with a look and turned to Harry and Ivan.
“You two think so too, right?
Snape’s always creeping around looking miserable.
There are even rumours he used to be a dark wizard.” He dropped his voice on the last words.
“Impossible,” Harry said.
“Professor Dumbledore would never let a dark wizard teach here.” He had felt Snape’s dislike at the welcoming feast, but every other teacher had been decent so far.
Snape could not be that bad.
Hermione nodded firmly.
Ron turned to Ivan in frustration.
Ivan was dangling a Bertie Bott’s bean in front of Scabbers.
He glanced at Harry.
“I don’t know if Snape targets Gryffindor as a house,” he said.
“But he is definitely going to target us.” Getting an Excellent evaluation from Snape already felt unlikely.
People transferred both love and hatred.
Even a deliberate Poor mark after class would not surprise him.
Harry looked confused by the direct stare.
Hermione, sharper, read the direction of Ivan’s gaze.
“You think Professor Snape hates Harry?” Ivan mentally applauded her speed, but he could not say the full truth.
“Just a suspicion,” he answered, shaking his head.
“Haven’t you noticed the way he looks at Harry is a little… off?”