Dragon Effect
Story Notes: There are reasons for the seemingly out of character behavior of both Harry and Dobby, from Harry's unusual openness and inexpert cover to Dobby's...well, you'll see if you read. Anyway, what I'm more concerned with for this chapter is telling you that I don't like OCs, just as a general rule, the only trouble is that Hogsmeade is a village and we have yet to have been introduced to a village full of canon characters. Point being: Right now they aren't important, they're just there. The only other thing worth noting is a reminder that this is not DH compliant and that most of this chapter was put together long before the release of the seventh book.
WARNINGS: This chapter contains a potted African Violet, which may disturb readers who are afraid of house plants. Also, there's colorful sludge which moves. Oooooh! It's coming to get you! I can't really think of anything else. Alcohol and bloodstains? Wait, yes, those would probably be it. Silly me.
Chapter 2: The Hog's Head
Harry could feel something tickling the skin on his face, across his nose and forehead. When he opened his eyes, he saw orange-brown spines moving directly beneath his eyes and sprung up from the ground with a shout. This startled Dobby awake and the elf seemed to bounce up from his perch on Buckbeak, floppy ears perking to stand at full height. He watched with wide tennis-ball eyes as his wizard brushed squiggly bugs from his face and hair.
"Is Harry Potter alright? Is he wanting Dobby to help?"
"No, it's - there aren't anymore, are there?"
Dobby crept forward and began plucking and brushing away centipedes, crickets, beetles and one grasshopper from his wizard's hair and robes. Harry looked at the elf and quirked an eyebrow, before beginning to return the favor. In spite of their preparation, they were going to enter the alternate wizarding world looking like tramps. Though, that was part of the plan...I just thought we could be clean, classy tramps.
"We should make sure they aren't bothering Buckbeak, too." As he said this, the hippogriff rose from the ground and flapped his wings hard and fast, shaking off any pests and flinging half of them onto Harry and Dobby.
"Well, I guess he's alright then." The creature gave him a smug look and began preening himself.
"We is not losing anything?"
Harry looked around. The gold chains which had held them together during the journey had disappeared, as had the Blacksphere. "Damn, we must have lost the Blacksphere to the Betweens."
"We is having all our toes, is we not?" The elf asked pragmatically.
Harry wiggled his toes experimentally in his dragonhide boots. "I think I've got all of mine," he told his friend with a grin.
"And Dobby has all of his," he paused to look behind himself at the hippogriff, "And Beaky is having his front talons and back hooves, all in tact! We is doing very well, Harry Potter," he finished, turning back to Harry with a smile.
"Yes, I think we've come out better than a pancake. You've got your bag, I've got both of mine and we're all alive and not squished. We should get butterbeers."
Buckbeak let out a squawk.
"And ferrets. Let's get to the inn, so you can get a break from us, huh? A nice warm stable until tomorrow morning?" He stood and stroked Buckbeak's forehead, feeling very grateful all three of them had made it through the transition safely. "Are you up to getting us there? Tomorrow I'll pick up a broom and you'll be done hauling us around, I promise." At a head shake and hoof stomp he added, "Unless you want to give us a ride. And we'd be flying side by side a lot of the time anyway." Buckbeak trilled and backed up and Harry smiled and maintained eye contact as he bowed and the animal bowed back. Dobby added in his own bow and Buckbeak bent his head slightly in acknowledgement, maintaining his already lowered posture so that both beings could climb up on his back.
They flew at an easy pace, about an hour and a half's flight to the edge of Hogsmeade and by the time they landed all three were feeling relaxed and refreshed. Harry laid a hand against Buckbeak's side as the two walked into the village, Dobby still straddling the hippogriff. Looking at a wizard and picking out the time period their robes belonged to was not an easy task, unless you were guessing to the closest century. Fortunately, Harry had spent no small amount of time ensuring the styles of all the clothing he'd taken with him were appropriate for what one could expect to see on a wizard in seventy-three. Being familiar with the mundane intricacies of wizard wear, it didn't take him long to feel assured they were in the correct place. The few wealthy witches in the street, who were eyeing him with both suspicion and interest, were dressed in what would have been modern in their target year. Unfashionable or poor persons had clothing from a span of over two centuries before seventy-three. I've spent too much time with Draco, to be deciding everyone's classes so quickly. I'm horrified, he'd be proud.
Harry ducked his head shyly, glad that timidity was part of his cover's personality. He was a highly sheltered, newly nomadic wizard who had no remaining ties in the wizarding world. Keeping the carefully constructed cover story in mind, he approached a young matron with a sincere smile and asked, "Excuse me, Madame, do you know where I could find a room and stable for the night?"
The plain woman adjusted the babe in her arms and eyed him up and down suspiciously. "Yes, depending on what business you've got here."
"Just passing through, probably. I might stay a couple weeks," he paused and injected a tourist's enthusiasm into his words, "I've heard this is the only all-magical community left in the wizarding public. I just wanted to see what it was like, how freely people still use - um," he ducked his head at her confused stare and murmured quietly, "just looking, Madame. That's my business." Raising his head he asked, "So, do you know where I could get a room and stable or should I be on better business to be privy to that knowledge?"
"No, I'm sorry," at his disappointed look she hurriedly added, "I mean, yes, I know, and I'm sorry for being rude. The Hog's Head will give you a room and a place for your - animal."
"Hippogriff, Madame. His name's Buckbeak," he told her in a helpful, innocent tone.
"Er, yes, hello Buckbeak," she hesitantly bowed her head at the beast, as though half-remembering what she ought to do. "There's also The Guard's Rail but they mostly only serve Aurors or Ministry workers." Looking him up and down again with sudden coolness, she asked in a sniffy voice worthy of a Malfoy, "Are you foreign?"
He nearly rolled his eyes but reined it in, he supposed his accent could be fake and he needed to be remembered by Hogsmeade citizens in a certain way. "I...no. No, I don't think so. I'm not sure. This is Scotland?"
"Of course it is," she said snippily. The other child, a blonde-headed toddler, was pulling on the mother's shabby skirt and she apparently was no longer in the mood for a mystery man's prattle.
"I'm sorry, Madame. It's only that I'm not very sure of where I'm from. Memory charms, you know. Well, you don't but I do and I've told you so now I suppose you do, don't you?"
"Um, I...I'm sorry. Did...did Death Eaters do this to you?" She looked and sounded suddenly contrite, a pained spark in her eyes making Harry believe perhaps she'd been touched by the early horror of Voldemort's regime.
"No, Madame. My fellow townsfolk, I'm afraid. We were all living under the Fidelius and I wanted to come out into - well, the rest of the world, really, but the secret...I'm boring you, right? Sorry."
"No! No, no," she adjusted her baby again, looking at him with wide eyes, "Is that true? An entire town, hiding from the Dark Lord?"
"The Dark...no. You mean the You-Know-Who fellow, right? I hadn't heard of him until I left home. I think, originally, my ancestors went into hiding from muggles or maybe Morgaine, it's difficult to be sure, since the old-timers like to romanticize things. They could have been hiding from tax collections, really. There's no way to be certain."
"Oh," she said in a disappointed tone, "well, it still sounds rather incredible. You have no idea where it was?"
"I could make an educated guess at the region, though I'd rather not. I feel very confident in saying I'm of English origin but where I was born and where I was raised, I can only guess and will not say."
"Such a peculiar story...how large was the town?"
"Large enough, we were independently functional, part ingenuity and part magic. Perhaps one thousand wizards and witches, descended from an original population of around eighty. There may have been more in the beginning who weren't recorded, some of the families have always been more paranoid than others, changing their names and living underground when they're already in hiding. It would be funny if their fears weren't such stressful burdens on them."
"My...that does sound sad. I've forgotten to ask, what's your name?"
"Harry," he said as he extended a hand for her to shake, "Harry Plunkett."
"Plunkett? I'm Mattie Fairfeather. I'd expected you to have a...well, I don't mean to be rude again but-"
"You were expecting a pureblood wizarding name?"
"I'm sorry, yes, I was. It's just, with your story..."
"I know, I've heard it before. The truth is, some of the families kept their actual surnames closely guarded, only telling close friends or the eldest and most trusted members of their clans. Unfortunately sometimes true names were lost and this was the case with my family, so I'm left with what was made up generations ago to use in lieu of it. Again, it would be funny -"
"If it wasn't so sad. How awful, I can't imagine having such an unsteady family history."
Buckbeak snorted loudly and stamped a front foot down impatiently.
"I'm sorry, Mad - um, Missus - is it Mrs. Fairfeather or Miss?"
"It's Mrs. but you can call me Mattie," she said firmly.
"Mattie," Harry said gratefully, "I'd best be getting Buckbeak to a place where he can rest up, we've just flown up from Drear Isle and I'm sure he's tired." The hippogriff hissed a bit. "And hungry, I know Beaky. You'll get your ferret if I have to floo to a city to get it."
"Abe should have some on hand, he gets his from the local feed shop, they provide the supply for Hogwarts, too. Abe's the owner of the Hog's Head."
"Thank you, you've been very helpful. And thank you for listening to me gab, too. I didn't mean to delay you so much."
"Nonsense! I haven't heard anything half so interesting in years. I hope to be seeing you around town, Mr. Plunkett."
"Harry."
"Harry," she repeated, and bowed her head to him as she had earlier to Buckbeak. "The Hog's Head is just down that street," she said pointing, "and to the left."
"Thank you again, Good Day, Mattie."
"Good Luck," she returned, and let out a loud gasp when he and the hippogriff walked past her, revealing the curious, smiling house elf on Buckbeak's back. Dobby waved at her as they went down the street and she absently returned the gesture.
That went well enough. He had just planted more than half his story into the Hogsmeade grapevine and was now set off to stay under the keen eye of a Dumbledore. Fairfeather...bakers, aren't they? Harry thought on them a moment, having become very familiar with most Hogsmeadians in his own time he expected he'd find many familiar faces. Fairfeather...quidditch. Some team...ah, Isabella Fairfeather, chaser for Puddlemere United. Probably either the toddler or the baby. It was rather strange, thinking of an adult his peers idolized, after seeing them as a babe. Oliver was on the same team as her. Oliver Wood, who had been his mentor in quidditch, who had shown him a snitch for the first time. Don't think about it, facing Abe dizzy is a bad move...
He reached the Hog's Head's side entrance and knocked. Walking into the bar with a hippogriff wouldn't be the strangest thing to happen at the tavern but he didn't want to endanger Buckbeak. He waited a few minutes and knocked again, a bit louder. Maybe they're having a brawl inside? The door finally swung open, revealing Aberforth Dumbledore, in all his bedraggled glory. The wizard narrowed his sharp eyes at Harry and the younger man couldn't help but fidget a little. "You wanted somethin'?"
"Yes, I was knocking to ask about getting a room and a stable for my hippogriff." Buckbeak gollumed. "And ferrets. This place was recommended to me."
"Why's he need both? Just a room i'nt good 'nough?"
Harry quirked his head to the side with the beginnings of a smile. "I meant a room for myself and my house elf friend and a stable stall for our hippogriff." Dobby leaned over the side of Buckbeak's neck then and eyed the bartender.
Aberforth met the elf's eyes a bit less narrowly. "Hello. This is your hippogriff, too, eh?"
"Hello, sir. Yes, Buckbeak is being a friend of both of us."
"Ah, I see." He looked back at Harry. "One galleon, six sickles a night for a stable, five sickles a night for a room."
If Harry hadn't been expecting what he considered to be ridiculously low rates, he might have gotten weak in the knees or whooped with glee. As it was, he knew that Aberforth considered it a high price and merely nodded, withdrawing his money bag from his robe pocket and taking out one gold and eleven silver coins. "What about the cost of feed?"
"His is free," he said while gesturing with his head at Buckbeak, "yours is extra. What's the elf eat?"
"The same as me."
"He's extra too. You can git yer meals in the bar when you want them or have breakfast and dinner sent up and added to your lodging bill for twenty-five knuts a day."
Harry exchanged a look with Dobby and Aberforth watched their silent communication curiously. When the young wizard turned back around the bartender quickly reverted to a fully guarded expression. "Add on the meals, then." Taking out another silver coin, he added, "I don't have that many knuts, though."
"I'll throw in a few free drinks then. Let's get your 'griff settled." He opened the door completely and closed it behind himself, then bowed to the bored-looking creature, keeping his eyes locked with it. Buckbeak returned the bow, already familiar with Aberforth from visits at their old Hogsmeade home. The man would usually have something in his pockets for him and the hippogriff stepped forward when Aberforth stood, and began sniffing his robes. "Whoa there, you don't need to be chomping on a firework, do yeh?" Gently pushing the animal away, he guided it to the back of the building, through a small grey picket fence. A wooden barn stood before a small courtyard. They were led inside, onto a stone floor which was flanked on either side by large stalls. The whole barn smelled of goats and fresh hay and the scent brought a little smile out of Harry. "Performing inappropriate charms on a goat..." How could Albus have even said that in front of a fourteen year old? He chuckled under his breath at the memory, of both the conversation and the late Headmaster's quirky humor.
The stalls were mostly empty, the first two on either side held a few goats each and the third and fourth down on the right held Granian winged horses he knew belonged to Aberforth. The last two stalls on the left held Thestrals and he caught Aberforth eyeing him to see if he noticed them or not. Harry pointedly looked straight at them and said, "Softer creatures than people think, aren't they?"
A guffaw was the answer. "You'd like my brother; he thinks they're sweet as kittens. Those two aren't his though," he said as he gave Harry a serious look, "and they're not cuddly. Even if they were they're under protection charms. No meddling, understand lad?"
"Yes, I'll refrain from hugging strange horses," he said just as seriously. "Thank you for warning me."
"Harry is being too silly," Dobby scolded, "he is sounding rude."
Blushing and actually feeling a bit shamed, he said, "Sorry, sir," to Aberforth.
After the man had looked between the two beings for a moment he let out a loud chuckle. "How old are you kids, anyway?"
"Twenty-five," Harry answered.
"Twenty-nine," Dobby added.
"Ah," he said as he put Buckbeak in the last stall on the right, "and how long have you known each other?"
At the same time, Harry said, "Since I was twelve," and Dobby said, "Since Dobby was seventeen."
Like Albus, Harry still wasn't sure if Aberforth could read or not. He did know the business man could count to at least three hundred and do math. "So you've been friends for thirteen years? This isn't your unlucky year, is it?"
Dobby answered, as Harry was struck silent. "No, that was being our first. We is not being partable, we is too tough. Right, Harry Plunkett?"
Hearing the elf say his cover name for the first time since they'd picked it out the previous summer shook him out of his superstitious worrying and Harry smiled at his friend, glad at hearing how natural and familiar the new name sounded when Dobby said it that way. "Right. How much worse could it get than it was when we first met, anyway?"
Aberforth looked between his grinning customers and made a note to ask later. He handed the hippogriff a ferret from a barrel against the back wall and nearly lost his hand, then nonchalantly got the beast another ferret, which was taken with less haste, as Buckbeak merely dropped it over the railing of his stall door before going back to the first one. Dobby hopped down and climbed the door, then jumped to stand next to Harry. "Let's get you two settled then," the barkeep said, and turned to walk out of the barn.
Harry stepped forward and told Buckbeak they'd see him later, Dobby echoing him. They followed Aberforth back around to the side door, going into a small foyer which had two doors and the bottom stairs of a wooden wrap-around staircase.
"The kitchen's on the right, stay out of it. Straight ahead's my rooms, stay out of 'em." Turning to the left, he led them up the stairs and into a long, narrow hall, with a wooden floor covered in grey filth. They went straight down the hall, to another set of stairs which went to a hall much the same, though slightly less dirty. As Aberforth went to the end and gestured at the last door on the right, Harry wasn't sure if he should be glad or worried. "There's a little terrace, don't step too heavy on it or it might fall off with you on it." With the gruff warning, he fished a key out of the front hip pocket of his robes and handed it to Harry. "I s'pose you can just pop in on your own," he told the elf, and then he swept down the hall in a manner that would have reminded them both of Snape if not for the clouds of dust it kicked up at the man's feet.
Looking at the tarnished silver key in his hand, Harry felt himself shiver lightly. He went to the door and turned the key in the lock, going into the same room Aberforth had given him when he'd needed a place to put himself together after the war and Hogwarts had still made him feel too raw. "The second-best in the house. Don't stomp on the terrace, it might fall down. See if you can get that green stuff out of the carpet while you're here, eh?" It took nearly three weeks but I did get it out of the carpet. Stepping in and to the side so Dobby could come in too, he saw that the same strange clump of...whatever it was sat embedded in the worn red carpet. At least this time I know it needs a potion and spell on it. The room looked much the same, the white and gold wallpaper was still slightly yellowed. They had a small maple table and chair set in the corner by the door, a large silver sleigh bed with worn-looking white sheets and a gold coverlet. The curtains hanging ceiling to floor were moth-eaten white lace and framed two large windows and their matching door. It opened onto a metal terrace, about seven feet wide and four feet deep and of highly questionable stability. I've fallen asleep drunk on that terrace a dozen times. He took off his satchel and set it on the bed. Paying for a room at the Hog's Head meant paying for security and privacy as well. Second best to Gringotts.
Dobby opened the door to the ensuite bathroom and peeked inside. He drew back and looked at Harry with wide eyes. "We...we is staying here for how long, Harry Potter?"
"I don't know where else we can keep Buckbeak safe until we get - where we're going." The Aberforth who knew him had not, as far as Harry knew, placed listening charms on his room when he'd stayed there. This one...he drew his spare wand out and began silently checking. Dobby threw his hands over his mouth, looking horrified at his slip of Harry's real name. Casting a silencing spell on the room, he looked at Dobby. "One, I think it was probably a personally monitored spell, like one for checking up on a room in real time. I've removed it; I think we're probably clear. He might not have been listening when you said it."
"Dobby is sorry!" The elf wailed, looking as upset as he'd been when they'd first met.
"Don't worry! If you've slipped there's nothing for it. I could have done it just as easily, we have a cover for it anyway, the paranoid family members, remember? We're fine." Dobby sniffled but nodded, disappearing and reappearing on the bed, taking his bag off his back and fiddling with the clasp. "We should be here for at least three weeks, to make sure we're remembered. We've got a lot to get done, anyway. After that, we'll see where we are. There's no telling what we can count on from here."
"Dobby knows," the elf said as Harry sat beside him on the bed, "he is not slipping up again, Harry P-Plunkett."
"Hm," Harry sounded wistfully, "it might be better for both of us if you did use my alias in private. It could help me stay in character, you know?"
"Dobby is not losing Harry Potter for Harry Plunkett," the elf said seriously and when Harry looked he saw he was being given a dirty look.
"No, I - I...that's not what I meant," he finished weakly. It was what I meant. Now I'm lying to Dobby? Great start in the new world, Harry. "I just want us to be as secure here as possible, Dobby. There's no telling what would happen to us if we were revealed. I'm not even sure who we'd be in the most danger of, Voldemort or the Ministry."
"Dobby knows and we is going to be ready. We is going to take care of ourselves. We is not going to throw ourselves away," he finished sharply. With that, he stood on the bed and walked to the pillow with his bag and settled down, apparently to sleep.
Harry swallowed. His friend had maintained the same attitude in earlier discussions of the journey. "Harry Potter is not risking his other self not being born." "Harry Potter is not jeopardizing his claim to the Potter family, he is not losing his blood's home!" "Dobby is not letting his wizard go there alone; you will be waiting for Dobby!" Little Hangleton...Merlin, he probably still wants to follow me there, to get that bleeding Horcrux together. I'm not letting him, he'd want to grab it to keep me safe and - he pictured Dobby with a hand or arm that was withered and black as Dumbledore's had been - I can't allow that to happen. It was like shielding Ron and Hermione from the worst of the war, reflexive and necessary to his sanity.
My saving people thing, Hermione. Aren't you glad now, to know you've always been right and I've still got it? He idly wondered if someone would write to her straight away, if she'd be finding out the next day with everyone he'd written letters for, if she'd cry or scream first, out of frustration or pain. She'd once given voice to the drive behind his Gryffindor foolishness. "I know you don't want to be the last one standing, Harry. Neither do I." The last one standing's always alone. He shook his head and shifted up to lie on the bed beside Dobby, shrugging his pack off. The two of them lay among their mutual baggage on top of the covers and slept until the dawn of the next day.
Harry stirred restlessly, hearing rummaging at the foot of his bed. Not my bed. Not soft or comfy or...Lady? He reached out with his mind for his Lady Hogwarts and felt a stab of panic as he failed to connect to the spirit of his home. Coming abruptly awake, he saw the room he and Dobby were staying in at the Hog's Head and calmed slightly, ignoring his heart's tremors at not finding his Lady as he remembered where he was and what they'd done. He let out an unsteady chuckle, drawing Dobby's attention. "Morning Dobby."
"Good morning Harry Potter. Dobby is hoping he did not wake you."
"No - I just. Hogwarts."
The elf's brow furrowed as he eyed his wizard more closely. "Hogwarts?"
"It's -" not silly, she's not silly, she's home and "- I was just surprised to not wake up there. It's been awhile since I've slept anywhere but there or at the house." The house, our house, Dobby, in our world which we've just recently abandoned to the wolves. Whee. Dobby slowly nodded and then went back to his bag, apparently looking for something important. Harry was amused to note that among the small articles on the bed was a rumpled-looking potted African violet, which he recognized as Dobby's personal house plant, previously kept in the elf's room at their house. "What are you looking for? You haven't brought any...pets, have you?"
"No, Harry Potter. Dobby is looking for the map his wizard made him."
The relief that there wasn't a rodent or magical bug faded under the news. "Dobby, you're not - we're not...we can't have that!"
"Yes, we can. We can be hiding it until we could have made it on our own, it wouldn't be very hard, since we is already knowing how. Dobby's wizard's father was a cartographer, it's a family trade. Hogsmeade is a fascinating town and a symbol of British Wizardry, Harry Plunkett could not resist documenting it."
"It's a spying device, Dobby. If someone finds out they'll say we're using it to spy on the town."
"Maybe we is, Harry Potter. Maybe we is looking for Death Eaters, unofficially and looking after friends, officially. Dobby is sure it will be more believable after you have made more maps."
Harry swallowed as Dobby pulled out the thick parchment of their map of Hogsmeade. It's true enough, Dad was a map maker... He'd made the Hogsmeade map when he'd decided to buy a house there, where he'd felt he and Dobby would be more vulnerable. Part of watching their backs had been watching the names that walked the streets. I did work out a simple formula, the bare bones of the Marauder's Map, to make it. Dobby's right, we could map out another location and do the spells to make it a live map...
"Dobby is not seeing the names of any Death Eaters, anywhere. The lady we met is four blocks away, with three other Fairfeathers, in the bakery. Dobby is thinking the babies is Isabella and Mathilda, the other is called Baxter."
"Yeah, Isabella's one of the babies. She'll play quidditch for Puddlemere in about fifteen years."
"Mister Aberforth Dumbledore is downstairs, at the bar. Mundungus Fletcher is there also, Dobby is thinking he is at a table. His dot is wobbly, he must be dru - drowsy."
"Who's at the Three Broomsticks?"
"Mmn...Madame Rosemerta is there, Mister Mad-Eye is at a corner table, with three other men Dobby is not knowing and there is a Wheezy Dobby hasn't heard of, named 'William' at the bar." His eyes busily scanned the bar on the map a moment before he said, "There is being no one else Dobby is knowing of there. Oh!"
"What is it?" Harry sprang up from his half-reclined pose on the bed and leaned forward anxiously, thinking a Death Eater must have shown up.
"Hagrid sir! He is just walking down the street into Hogsmeade."
"Oh," he breathed in relief. His heart still raced in a fluttery rhythm as he thought of seeing his friend again, yet not as a friend and over twenty years younger than he remembered him. Aberforth was one thing but Hagrid..."You're a wizard, Harry!" "Maybe we should arrange a meeting between him and Buckbeak, somehow."
"Dobby is thinking that will not be so hard. He is coming in this direction."
"He'll probably still be in the bar when I get down," Harry said as he slid off the bed. He was chagrined to note he'd gone to bed fully dressed, boots and all. "I'm going to take a shower, Dobby." He picked the satchel of clothes Dobby had brought for him up off the bed and took a step towards the door to the ensuite bathroom.
"No!" Dobby shrieked, suddenly looking panicked. "Harry Potter can not! It is dangerous in there, he could be eaten! There is green and blue throbby things everywhere!"
"Uh...oh. Right." Hog's Head, remember? I guess the bath had been cleaned when I got this room before...or in the future or whatever.
"Dobby is already trying to fix it with his magic, he could get rid of the dirt and most of the slime but the moving sludge and bloodstains wouldn't come up."
"Bloodstains?" Second-best room in the house, huh Abe? "Well...I guess I'm not that dirty." He looked down at himself. "I don't really look too rumpled, either. We're supposed to be imitating a nomadic lifestyle anyway, right?"
"Yes, a little rumpling is fine for Harry Plunkett."
"Right. I'll just...stay clear of the bath and shower then." He set the bag back down and fished for a toothbrush and toothpaste, then took a steadying breath and disappeared into the bathroom. Five minutes later he came out with a still disgusted expression on his face. "It's not...it's fixable, I guess. There weren't any of those...whatever they are, when I stayed here before. No stains either -" and really, since when do people get murdered at the Hog's Head? Unless they were actually slaughtering hogs in there... "- so it has to all be removable. I'll pick up some cleaning potions in Diagon today."
"You is still planning to go there so soon?" The elf sounded somewhat disapproving, as though this were a seriously flawed part of the plan.
"Yes. I know we don't have the Blacksphere to secure anymore, so getting a vault at Gringotts isn't as important but I still need a broom. More importantly, I need a proper wand. The one I have now is a good one to fall back on in a fight but it's nothing like...it just isn't attuned. It's not - it doesn't speak to my magic the way the other one did."
"Dobby is still not knowing why you left your true wand behind."
"Because everyone seems to just be able to know things when it comes to wands. The Ministry, Ollivander's, the talking fish in the Betweens - they all knew more about it than I did! I've checked it out, Dobby. If they wanted to find out more - if this world's Voldemort or Order got hold of it and looked, really looked, they could find out where the core came from. Fawkes gave two feathers, just two. Those two can be accounted for, so where would mine have come from? Why would such a memorable wand as the brother to Voldemort's have another duplicate, the same wood, length, core..." He trailed off and sighed. Leaving the wand felt like a mistake, no matter how right it had been. He just wanted to get to Diagon and - "I need to replace it, what's done is done."
"Dobby supposes his wizard is right," the elf said quietly. "Harry Potter is needing a wand he can rely on. We is both needing to be as formidable as possible."
Harry blinked when the elf said 'formidable.' Dobby had changed nearly as much as he had, since the day they'd met. "Dobby, you didn't bring any books with publishing dates after 1973, did you?"
"No, Harry Potter!" He sounded rather shocked and affronted. "Dobby did not even bring any books! Instead he is bringing a list of books to get here, so they is being aged properly and we is not having to explain where they came from."
"Oh, that's - that's good thinking." Why didn't I think of that?
"Dobby is only bringing important things," he said as he nodded at the African violet on the bed. "His favorite sweaters and socks and hats and - things."
"Things?"
"Wasn't Harry Plunkett going somewhere?"
"Yeah," Harry agreed with a wry grin, "I guess he should."
"Hagrid sir is downstairs in the bar," Dobby said as he looked back at the map.
Harry left the room, clad in the same clothes as the day before. Probably advantageous, it's a young looking outfit.
He went down the third floor hall and stairs and instead of going to the other end of the second-floor hall, where he'd been shown the staircase which led to the outside, he went straight to the matching winding wooden staircase in front of the one to the third floor, which took him to another filthy hall, this one shorter and much narrower so that its traffic was somewhat concealed from the open space at the opposite end. He went down the dirty walkway and came out into a curtained alcove which separated paying guests from the public tavern. Checking his stature, he loosened his shoulders and tried to slip into his desired projection of youthful curiosity and shyness, not needing to prompt himself towards the sign of Harry Plunkett's paranoia, as his body was already a mix of firm and limber, with his hand slightly tensed over where the spare wand was in his pocket. Ready to dodge or defend, like a good little wizard puppet. Wouldn't Dumbledore be glad?
He stepped out and feigned surprise at the odd garb of some of the patrons. There weren't as many masked customers as he had seen the first time he'd stepped into the Hog's Head with Ron and Hermione but he knew it was still enough that anyone unfamiliar with it should have felt it unusual. But secrecy is a comfort zone for Plunkett, innit? After so many years around people afraid to say their names... He strode into the room with caution, not faking his need to carefully look over the people around him. He made an effort to contain his heart when he saw the familiar form of his friend. First friend, really. A blur of years sitting at the man's table with inedible rock cakes and tea clouded his vision, a hundred hearty laughs stuffing his ears like cotton. Hagrid was the first person he could remember hugging him, ever.
"Have you gone deaf, lad?"
He shook his head quickly and looked to the source of the voice. Aberforth was looking at him with some mix of amusement and irritation. "I'm sorry, what did you say, sir?" He felt several pairs of eyes on him at the last word, said so naturally.
"Breakfast. It'll get sent up to your room in about half an hour, unless you want it down here. I'm not in the habit of waking people up this early just for food, unless they ask me to ahead of time."
He smiled reflexively. "I'd forgotten about it. I'll wait and eat with Dobby." He went up to the bar and said a bit more quietly, "You did mention a free drink yesterday, though."
"Ah, a few, to make up the difference in what you paid," Aberforth clarified, for the benefit of all eavesdroppers. "What'll it be?"
"Meade," he said, as though it were obvious.
The bartender nodded and grabbed an almost clean looking stein, filling it with the drink. He looked down the bar at Hagrid, who was drinking peacefully, and nodded back at Harry. "This is the man I was telling you about, Rubeus." Glancing at Harry he added with a mischievous twinkle reminiscent of his brother, "Flew into town on the back of a hippogriff, from what I hear." He winked at the younger man, as though to say that the revealing of such information, the practice of gossip, was not simply common practice to him.
He kept from swallowing by force of will, knowing his nervous excitement at seeing a lost and dearly missed friend could easily be misread as unease at meeting a half-giant. Taking a peek at Hagrid, expressing the jolt of emotions in his chest at locking eyes with the friendly beetle black gaze through only a hesitant smile, he turned back to Aberforth and said, "It's true," quietly and unnecessarily. He sent a curious glance at Hagrid, silently asking why the bartender had decided to clue them in on each other.
"Abe's said yer good to 'im," he said in a way which was appreciative and speculative at once. "How long yeh 'ad 'im?"
"Years," Harry answered automatically, and then elaborated, "I've been taking care of him for over six years but we've been acquainted for twelve. I was good friends with his previous owners."
"An' what happened ta them?"
"They -" You "-they're no longer-" Beaky almost died without you, Hagrid, he wouldn't eat, "- they're gone," I didn't really blame him but I couldn't let him pull a Fawkes on me and die from the grief, you wouldn't have -
"Sorry," the other man said awkwardly. "Di'n't mean ta...bring up a loss."
Harry smiled weakly. "It's been a long time. Buckbeak took it harder."
"That the name o' the Hippogriff?"
The smile widened. Hagrid always said a creature's name as though it were a proper title. "Yes, though sometimes Dobby and I, he's a free house elf, we call him Beaky. His original owner nicknamed him that and he appreciates its use." He could see some dawning respect in the man's eyes and felt his stomach flip.
"An' he's stabled here?" There was an edge of hopefulness in his tone.
"Yes. Would you like to see him? He's become very tolerant of strangers and I was going to check up on him soon anyway."
Aberforth picked that moment to scoff at the spot of clean bar he was swishing a disgusting rag over. "Tolerant," he muttered.
"What? Did something happen?" Is he okay? Oh, Merlin, what was I thinking leaving him alone for so many hours?
"Fine, fine," he said absently, as though he couldn't hear the panicked note in his customer's voice. "Just he isn't really only tolerant, is he? He seems to just ignore everyone until they engage 'im, then lower himself to their level. More like he's above noticing."
"Well, we are just a bunch of humans and he is a Hippogriff," Harry said in a light tone after he'd caught his breath. He's fine, he's under Abe's care and that pretty much means safe. At least for anything with hooves.
The sound of a heavy stein coming down onto the bar preceded Hagrid saying agreeably, "I think I would like teh see your Beaky, Mister...?"
"Plunkett," he answered automatically.
"Hagrid," the half-giant said, offering a hand to shake that was about six times the size of Harry's own.
Turning a soft grin up at his standing companion he too rose and said, "Let's go see him then, Mr. Hagrid."
"Jus' Hagrid," he corrected absently.
They went out the front and around to the back to the barn. Harry heard Buckbeak make a cooing noise when they came in and it drew Hagrid into the beast's view. Keeping a careful eye on the hippogriff's reactions, he watched as the half-giant approached the stall and stopped short by about ten feet, to bow. Beaky had backed up and shaken his head at the sight of his old caretaker but when the vision bowed to him, respect in the eyes locked with his own, he'd stamped his front feet uncertainly and then returned the gesture, deeply exaggerated. When he rose he walked to the railing and squawked, shook his head and then trilled. Watching Hagrid approach the hippogriff and gently stroke his feathered neck, Harry felt a wave of rightness coast through the air.
"Hello there, Beaky," Hagrid said in a friendly tone. The greeting started up some silly-sounding chirps and happy little trills, some of them sounds Harry hadn't known hippogriffs could make. "Well, yeh are a friendly boy, aren't yeh?"
Stepping up to the pair with a ferret from the barrel, probably under a preservation charm, Harry found himself actually being ignored, while holding food. "Beaky?" he queried in an amused tone. The yellow eyes didn't even flicker in his direction. He cleared his throat and waved the ferret a little. Buckbeak absently caught it in his beak, still staring at Hagrid, feet and wings twitching and throat working out the little pleased noises. "I've never seen him take to someone like this. Have you got a speaking gift?"
The man was awed by the hippogriff's reaction as well but was still grounded enough to be sensible. "A what?" He darted a look at Harry and Buckbeak made some slightly lower pitched noises to show he didn't like the change in focus. "Y' mean like a mage?" he asked uncomfortably.
Of course magic's a sore spot for him, idiot. "No, not really, I don't think. Just someone who speaks an animal's language or has a psychic affinity towards them. I once knew a girl who could charm Demiguises very well; she claimed that communicating with animals who held the power of invisibility came naturally to members of her family." All true, thank you Luna.
"Oh...ah, no. I ain't got nuthin' like that. Be nice to have that skill sometimes, though. Some of the animals at Hogwarts get right feisty."
"Hogwarts?"
"Tha's right," he said as he drew himself up, "I'm the Keeper of the Keys and Grounds there. Got a few Hippogriffs in the Forest, though mostly I get to deal with those," he said as he gestured with a thumb to the thestrals in the last two stalls opposite Buckbeak's.
"Thestrals," Harry said with a nod, not sure whether Hagrid was testing out whether or not Harry could see them or if the older man had been able to see them for so long he'd temporarily forgotten others couldn't, as he'd seemed to have done in Harry's fifth year when he featured them in Care of Magical Creatures class. "Is it true the headmaster there thinks they're as tame as kittens?"
Hagrid's eyes narrowed slightly. "The Headmaster's good ta all creatures. Dumbledore's a great wizard and right intuitive. Whatever faith he's got in anything, yeh can bet it's there with good reason."
Harry blushed but maintained eye contact. "I didn't mean to offend. Mister Aberforth said something to me about it. I was only curious, since they have such a rough reputation. I would think most people would be too afraid to give them a chance."
"Oh," Hagrid said as he glanced at the floor looking slightly shame-faced, "no harm done, eh? Yer right 'bout most people, lucky Dumbledore ain't one of 'em. He's always been one for giving chances. Lot like Abe to be picking at 'im though."
"Why's that?" Harry asked hesitantly.
"Well, it's what brothers do, innit?" Suddenly the man looked like he'd let the dragon out of the hut. Harry only gave a friendly smile.
"Yes, I suppose it is. I haven't got any blood brothers but I've gained a few unofficial siblings over the years. Merlin knows they enjoy teasing me whenever possible."
"Ah," the man said as he regained his composure, "I were an only child too. I was more'n enough for my da to deal with. Seen hordes of brothers and sisters up at the castle though. They give each other plen'y of trouble."
Harry's smile was more nostalgic this time. "I'm sure they do."
"Your, er, unofficial brothers were a riot?"
He laughed shortly. "Oh yeah. One was so annoying I started calling him my little brother, even though he was a few months older than me. Then there were the others...all older, all overprotective. I'd get stalked on the way to the grocer's, 'in case something happened.'"
"These are dangerous times," Hagrid mused as he looked him up and down appraisingly. "Strange time to travel alone, come to mind."
"I'm not by myself, I have Dobby and Buckbeak."
Hagrid frowned thoughtfully. "Powerful magic, House Elves."
"Yes, he's rather clever too. I'd count on him to save my life more than I would any wizard." The honest statement earned him another evaluating look, though this one was given with some approval glinting in Hagrid's dark eyes. Harry smiled slightly and ducked his head apologetically. "Speaking of Dobby, I just told Mister Aberforth - er, Dumbledore, that I'd be taking breakfast with him in our room about now. I ought not to hold him up." He thrust a hand out boldly, though held it between them with some wariness. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Hagrid," his smile widened as his hand was completely covered by Hagrid's in a firm handshake, "we'll probably run into each other again, if you come to town often."
"Oh? How long're you plannin' on staying here?"
"At least a couple weeks, perhaps three or four."
"Why spend so much time here just to leave? There ain't much to see." Harry raised an eyebrow and Hagrid looked a bit flustered. "Not tha' yeh aren't welcome, it's just we don't get many...visitors, anymore. Not with what's going on."
"With You-Know-Who?"
He looked at him like he was a bit touched in the head. "Well, what else 'as been causing trouble fer all of Wizarding Britain?"
Harry's face took on a worried expression. "He's that bad?"
"Merlin, don't cha know? He's the worst wizard in history! Worse'n Grindelwald!"
"Who?"
"Grindel- where on earth are yeh from, boy?"
The half-yell had been so familiarly tainted with concern and exasperation that Harry had to look at the floor a moment to hide his fond look. "Around, I guess. I never got much news when I was growing up."
"News? This is history! Thirty years ago, just 'bout, the Dark Lord Grindelwald rose to power, tryin' ta wipe out or enslave anyone who wasn't of pure magical blood. Nasty piece of work, he was. Those were dark times Plunkett, but this new one...I've got the feeling things're going to be a lot worse than what people've ever thought they could be. An' that it isn't a good idea for someone to be traveling alone. Better your hide than mine," he added as he raised his hands in defeat, knowing he was only going to hear about the House Elf again.
"Well...we're not much for news or modern history where I'm from. We keep to ourselves, you know? I just...wanted to see the world, I guess. Hogsmeade's an important part of it, right?" Hagrid looked doubtful, as though he'd just been offered a reason not to trust the younger man. Harry smiled shakily, hoping stretched nerves from the thought of Voldemort - no, 'You-Know-Who,' would explain his slightly fraying mood. "I hope to see you around, Hagrid. Please, drop in on Beaky whenever you want."
With that he turned and left the barn, hearing the half-giant call, "I'll be seeing you, Plunkett," before turning back to an indignant hippogriff to soothe his feathers.
Midgy the house elf was, like most of her kind, caring and genuine. She wished to please and at Hogwarts she was often given the privilege of doing so. Today she was doing something very special, she had an important and secret mission from Dobby, the only happy free elf she'd ever met. Knowing that the Wizard Dobby chose to serve was none other than the Boy Who Lived, the sweet little babe turned Professor who had saved the world from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, filled her with pride as this meant she was somehow performing a task for the friendly young Wizard as well. She had met Professor Potter only twice but he had a reputation among them all, as a polite and gentle man whom Hogwarts Herself favored.
Popping into the Headmistress' office with one of Professor Potter's letters extended towards the older woman in a thick cream envelope, Midgy smiled as she imagined that whatever 'important information' was contained in the missive, which 'had to be a surprise,' and could not have been delivered a moment sooner, would likely please the Headmistress greatly. She thought that whatever would cause such a good Wizard and good elf to go through so much trouble just to surprise Professor Potter's friends, had to be wonderful. Fortunately, as Dobby had given her explicit instructions to deliver one letter after another, so that all eight would be recieved within two minutes of each other, then return to the kitchens to attend to her duties, Midgy would completely miss the reactions of those whom she was only trying to please.
