Chapter Four: The Oompa Loompa
"Someone go wake that girl up!" Mrs. Weasley bustled around the kitchen, frantically scrambling, poaching, and boiling eggs while she buttered and toasted the scones. "I swear—that girl—sleeps in all the time. She's worse than Ron ever was. . . . Harry, would you be a dear and go fetch her so she's not late for breakfast?"Harry sighed longingly into his mug of rich black coffee before replying. "Yes, Mrs. Weasley." Putting his mug down, he heaved himself out of his chair and tromped up the mismatched stairs to get Blaise from the room that she shared with Ginny and Hermione, who were already at breakfast. Reaching the closed door, he hesitated before knocking. It wouldn't do for him to walk in on her dressing, or anything. Not to mention that he would probably be scarred for life.
"Come in," the muffled voice of Blaise called through the door. As Harry opened the door, he immediately caught sight of Blaise, who was still in the bed and had sleep in her eyes. She squinted. "Harry?"
"Blaise, you have to come down. It's time for breakfast and Mrs. Weasley doesn't want you to miss it."
Blaise groaned before plopping back down on her pillow. "How much longer are we here for, again?"
Harry thought a bit before answering. "From today, about a month."
"Another month . . . here . . . with Ron Weasley? Ugh. Wait . . . a month. That would make today . . . the last day of July, right?"
"Yeah, why?"
Blaise's mouth dropped open in shock. "Harry! Don't tell me you forgot! It's your birthday!" she exclaimed happily.
"So? We've never done anything for my birthday, or yours, what makes today any different?" He was very confused.
"Well . . ." Blaise seemed to be at a dreadful loss as to what she should say.
"Is an awfully deep subject," Harry finished for her.
She growled at him. "I hate it when you do that. What I mean is . . . we're twelve now, we should start celebrating our birthdays."
"I just turned twelve."
"I've been twelve."
"Stop reminding me."
"That's my duty as your friend, isn't it?"
"Listen, my birthday's two months after yours. They're not that far apart."
"It's more than sixty days."
"That's not the point."
"Uh-huh."
"Sneak spends way too much time around you, you know."
"Speaking of Sneak, where is that filthy garden snake?"
"He is not a garden snake. He has black scales, not green ones."
"Well, he's a snake. They're not that much different. I mean, really, how different can snakes be?"
"Very different. And I don't know where he is. I think he must be out there terrorizing those lawn gnomes we saw on our second day here."
"Hmm. Well, you said breakfast is ready, and my stomach calls, so get out."
"Alright, alright, keep your tail—what the hell are you wearing?"
Blaise looked down at her tee-shirt in bewilderment. Seeing it for seemingly the first time, she turned pink and busted out in gales of laughter when she saw Harry's expression.
She was wearing a white shirt with a large wizard photo and proud, bold writing on it. The writing said "The Harry Potter Fan Club" in emerald lettering and the picture was one of Harry the day at Diagon Alley with Hagrid and Blaise cut out.
"Wh-what a-are you w-wearing?" Harry stuttered.
"Well . . . the fan club members said that, as your girlfriend, I should be a member. I refused, and they just kept bugging me and begging me and they wouldn't shut up . . . so I agreed to buy a shirt."
"With whose money?"
Oh, sh—, Blaise mouthed soundlessly.
"I'm waiting. . . ." said Harry, tapping his foot against the hardwood floors impatiently.
"Yours," Blaise finally squeaked.
"Exactly. I want you to never sleep in that shirt again. It's just wrong; you're my best friend. I also want you to burn it, but I suppose that's too much to ask for."
"Okay," Blaise agreed, turning bright red. "Now, get out so I can change."
With one last look of contempt, Harry stalked out of the room, banging the door shut as he left. She could distinctly hear him stomping down the stairs.
"Thank you!" she said sarcastically.
She could barely hear him grunt in reply. Sighing softly, she continued getting ready for the day before she had to go down to breakfast.
oOoOo
"Harry, dear, is Blaise coming down soon?" Mrs. Weasley asked distractedly as she bustled around the kitchen, putting the final preparations to a wonderful-looking breakfast.
"She'll be down soon, Mrs. Weasley. She just has to get dressed," Harry answered, remembering the horrid nightshirt she had been wearing. He gratefully took a gulp of his high-caffeine coffee. He had a feeling he would need it today.
"Okay, dear. Ron, get that unattractive sleep out of your eyes. It looks like you just got out of bed!"
"I did just get out of bed," Ron muttered before scrubbing the goo away.
Mrs. Weasley looked nervously toward the clock. "Ginny, dear, go feed the chickens before you eat. And remember to wash your hands afterward."
Ginny groaned, "But, Mum—"
"No buts, Ginevra Molly Weasley! Go! NOW!" she scolded.
Glaring, Ginny gave in, rather unwillingly in Harry's opinion, and said through gritted teeth, "Yes, Mum," before going outside and scattering around feed for the chickens, grumbling all the while.
"Fred, George, put that away while you're at the table," she said, turning to the troublemaking twins.
Fred put the unidentified dangerous object in his lap, effectively hiding it from his mother.
"I'm here!" Blaise exclaimed in a sing-song voice as she traipsed into the kitchen, pulling her fresh-from-the-shower dark auburn hair into a messy ponytail, trying and failing to get her clinging bangs out of her face. Sighing she fell into the chair across from Harry and gave him a nervous smile he didn't bother to return. Hermione bit her bottom lip and said mockingly to Blaise, "Oh, did he discover your sleeping arrangements?" When they both turned a bright shade of red, she answered her own question. "I'm guessing he did."
"Did what?" Fred, George, and Ginny asked evilly at the same time. Ginny was carrying an empty feed bucket and had walked in through the back door just in time to hear Hermione's last words. Fred and George had been having an intense, heated discussion—about pranks, most likely—and hadn't been paying attention to Hermione, Blaise, and Harry.
Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but cut off and gave a sharp "Ow!" when both Harry and Blaise discreetly kicked her under the table. She glared when they each gave her an innocent expression.
Blaise, clearing her throat, answered for her. "Nothing of great importance," she said with a small smile which turned into a sneer when she saw the disbelieving looks on their audience' faces. Harry went ahead and glared with her.
Ginny sighed, realizing they weren't going to find out what was wrong until she had Hermione alone. Blaise, sensing her thoughts, made a silent vow to never let Ginny and Hermione out of her sight at the same time. She could seem slow, but she was a true Slytherin—cunning and mischievous. Little did she know that Ginny had a plan, and not even her cunning and mischievous qualities could keep it from being initiated.
The three guests at the Weasley household didn't know Ginny very well, and therefore did not recognize the mischievous glint in her eyes that the three Weasley boys around them were quite familiar with. Fred and George were wise and didn't let any emotions show on their faces—they wanted to know what caused their two friends to blush, too. Ron, however, didn't particularly care and had a desperately eager look on his face, waiting to see his two enemies get shown up.
Mrs. Weasley was also memorable of the expression on her only daughter's face, and she feared for poor Harry and Blaise from where she stood at the sidelines, eavesdropping on their conversation. Hmm . . . there had to be something she could do to get Ginny's mind off of her planning. . . .
Stepping forward, Mrs. Weasley ushered the children out of their seats—all the while ignoring their feeble protests—and levitated their nearly empty plates to the sink with her wand, where they began to clean themselves. Maneuvering the children towards the back door, she opened it, shoving them unceremoniously outside.
"Go. Breakfast was finished long ago, and I want you all to de-gnome the garden," she commanded, using her most condemning tone.
"I don't want to!"
"Why do we have to de-gnome the garden?"
"It's so boring!"
"You can't make me, you old hag!"
Ignoring the last statement, she reprimanded them. "I can and I will, and if you don't go now, I'll hold back all of your Hogwarts letters! You're supposed to be getting them some time today, but if—"
Their mouths closed tightly; not one of them was ready to surpass the threat of not getting their Hogwarts letters. Blaise wondered why; it was, after all, meaning that they didn't have to be reminded of going back to school, which was a crime in and of itself.
After one final shove, they were outside and Mrs. Weasley had closed the door behind them. Blaise glared at the offending door, as did Harry and Ginny.
"Well, what do we do now? What does it mean to de-gnome the garden?" Harry inquired.
"Well, you have to—"
"—catch the gnomes and make 'em—"
"—really dizzy."
"How do you make them dizzy? Just swing them around a bit and make sure they can't find their way back?" asked Blaise.
"Exactly," Ginny said with a smile.
"Okay . . ." Blaise muttered. Harry glanced over and gave her a small smile; he agreed with her.
"Where's Percy?" Ron asked. He didn't particularly want to spend an hour or so with people that weren't on his side of the battle between the Slytherins and Gryffindors.
"He's up in his room," George said with a sniff.
"He's spending a lot of time up there these days—"
"—writing letters, polishing his prefect badge—"
"—and there's only so many times you can polish a prefect badge," Fred finished.
"Oh," Ron murmured with a huff.
"But back to what we should be doing," Ginny ordered.
"Okay, little sis!" Fred exclaimed. "Here's what you do."
Fred searched around for a bit before bending double with his head in a peony bush. There was a violent scuffling noise, the bush shuddered, and Fred straightened back up. "This is a gnome."
"Gerroff me, you bastard!" the gnome squealed.
Well, whatever Harry or Blaise—or even Hermione—had been expecting to see, it wasn't this. The gnome was a sight for sore eyes. It was small and leathery-looking, with a large, knobby, bald head shaped like a potato. Fred held it at arm's length as it kicked at him angrily with its horny little feet; he grasped it around the ankles and turned it upside down.
"This is what you gotta do," he said, raising the gnome above his head ("Gerroff me, you bastard!") and started to swing it around like a lasso. "It doesn't hurt them—you've just got to make it so they can't find their way to the gnome-holes. It's like Blaise said."
Fred let go of the gnomes ankles and watched proudly as it landed beyond a stump about thirty feet away. "Okay, you've seen what you've got to do—get to it!"
"I'll sit this activity out," Hermione huffed, entering the house so as to find a good book to read.
Harry learned quickly not to feel sorry for the gnomes; they were vicious creatures—especially if they sensed weakness. The first time he just decided to drop it over the hedge, but it sunk its teeth deep into his hand. He had a job of shaking the damn thing off until—
"Wow, Harry! That must've been sixty feet!"
Blaise, however, had no mercy. . . .
"Hey, baby. What do you say we go to my gnome-hole?" the gnome squeaked in what it thought was a sexy tone.
"AAARRRGGGHHH! Stay away from me, you filthy pervert!" Blaise screeched, swinging the "sexy" gnome away from her, where it bounced off a tree trunk and landed with a dull thunk and a crack.
"I think you killed it, Blaise," Ginny whispered, horror and awe evident in her voice.
"Good riddance to a bad gnome, I say."
The air was soon thick with even more flying gnomes.
"See, they're not too bright," Ginny said, going after a group of three gnomes. "The moment they know the de-gnoming's going on they storm up to have a look. You'd think they'd've learned to keep their pathetic arses put."
Blaise was looking around, checking to see if any more perverted (or otherwise) gnomes were hiding in the bushes that surrounded the garden. Suddenly she eep-ed—a familiar snake with black scales was making its way towards her, hissing all the while. "Sneak, there you are! Harry, I found Sneak!"
Hearing her call, Harry came over to where she was crouched. "Hey, Sneak, what's wrong?" he whispered so the others couldn't hear.
"Harry! I don't know what it isss, but it doessn't look pretty," Sneak hissed frantically.
"Does it look like those gnomes we were just getting rid of?" Harry hissed back.
"No, it isss bigger and greener, and hasss larger eyesss."
"Blaise, what do we know that's bigger, greener, and has larger eyes than a lawn gnome?" Harry asked so his friend could understand him.
She twirled a piece of auburn hair around her finger while she thought. "An oompa loompa?" she guessed with a sense of dread.
Harry rolled his eyes. "No, not an oompa loompa. If I recall correctly we've never met one of those."
"Bigger, greener, larger eyes… Oh! What about a house-elf?"
"Hmm . . . that makes sense," he said distractedly.
"Where is this thing, Sneak?"
"Hiding in the rosse bussh. I don't think it likesss the thornsss," Sneak answered with a slight chuckle, pointing his tail in the direction of said rose bush.
"Come on, Blaise, let's go check it out."
"Huh? What? Are you crazy? Do you have any sense of self-preservation?" Blaise questioned with a look that clearly told him 'You have got to be kidding me.'
"We're going to check it out, I'm not crazy, and yes, I do have a sense of self-preservation."
"Not much," Blaise muttered. Harry could barely hear her, but when he did, he stuck out his tongue.
They walked cautiously toward the rose bush, Blaise feeling a sense of dread. She knew that whatever it was, it probably didn't wish them well.
Harry carefully went toward the shrub, using his hands to push aside the stems, not caring about the thorns. What he saw surprised him. The creature had large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of the tennis balls Harry had used as practice Snitches. The creature had probably been watching them the entire time. He vaguely felt Blaise crouch beside him, eyeing the creature distrustfully. She didn't particularly want another magical creature to be flirting with her today.
"Er—hello," Harry said hesitantly.
"Harry Potter!" the creature squeaked in a high-pitched voice. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir. . . . Such an honor it is. . . . And who is this young lady?"
"Um, th-thank you. Er, this is my friend, Blaise Zabini. Who are you?"
The creature's eyes went wide when he said Blaise's name. Harry wondered why; the teachers at school had had the same reaction. "Dobby, sir and miss. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," the creature said with a deep bow. Ah, so Blaise was right; he was a house-elf.
"Uh . . . this isn't really a good time," Harry said to the elf, glancing back toward the others, who were still checking for gnomes they may have missed. "Not that I'm not pleased to meet you, I am, but, er, is there any particular reason you're here?"
"Oh, yes, sir," Dobby said earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you, sir, miss . . . it is difficult. . . . Dobby wonders where to begin."
"How about from the beginning?" Blaise said with a nervous laugh.
"Dobby heard tell that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago . . . that Harry Potter escaped yet again," he said hoarsely.
Harry nodded. "Yes, but not without the help of my friends."
"Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter . . . to warn him . . . Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."
There was a silence broken only by the sounds of Ginny swinging a gnome around and throwing it down a small hill, where it hit a diminutive boulder with a thunk.
"W-what?" Blaise hissed, furious. "He's got to go back—term starts September first. We can't stay here, and we sure as hell aren't going to the orphanage," she reasoned. "Or the Dursleys,'" she added.
"No, no, no!" she elf exclaimed squeakily, shaking his head, ears flopping. "Harry Potter and his Zabi must stay where they is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose, as is his Zabi. If Harry Potter and his Zabi go back to Hogwarts, they will be in mortal danger."
"Why?" Blaise asked suspiciously, choosing to ignore the fact that the elf had just called her Harry's Zabi.
"There is a plot, Blaise Zabini"—oh, much better—"A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, miss, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, as is his Zabi."
"What terrible things?" Harry asked.
"Who's plotting them?" inquired Blaise.
Dobby made a funny choking noise and shook his head again. "I is not allowed to tell you!"
"Hmm . . . okay then. Is it Voldemort? The Dark Lord?" Blaise questioned. Seeing Dobby start to shake again, she added, "You can just shake or nod."
Dobby shook his head.
"Not—not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, miss—"
Dobby's eyes were wide and he seemed to be giving them a hint. Harry was completely lost; Blaise was suspicious.
"He hasn't got a brother, has he?"
Dobby again shook his head.
"Well, I don't know who else would be doing it. Tell you what, Dobby," Blaise said, "we'll stay here for the year, but next year we're going back—warning or no warning." She said this all with a wide-eyed innocent expression.
Dobby whimpered; he didn't seem to want to accept that, but he had no choice. "Yes, Dobby must be going back before his master gets suspicious. Don't go back to school," he said as a final warning.
"We won't," Blaise assured with a shake of her head, damp curls bouncing.
Dobby nodded before popping away.
Harry turned on his friend. "What do you mean, we're not going back?" he hissed.
"We are going back. I just told him that so he'd go away. I had a distinct feeling he wouldn't have until we agreed not to go, so I made it easier on us."
"Oh, okay. . . ." Harry said, lost in his thoughts. "What do you think he meant, not Voldemort?"
"Could it be one of his followers? I know Quirrell was one. He would have more, you'd think."
"Yeah. . . . Oi, maybe Dobby works for one of his followers, the one that's doing this, and felt that he should warn us."
"Hmm . . . maybe . . . or maybe the one that did it has a kid in Hogwarts, and they talk about you. Must say pretty good things, with the way Dobby was going on about you being 'valiant' and 'bold.'"
Harry scowled. "Yep, almost makes me sound like a bloody Gryffindor."
Blaise snorted, making her friend glare at her. "Maybe the person who was talking about us is a Gryffindor."
"Well, I guess since we are going back to school this year, we'll find out." Harry stood, holding out a hand to help pull Blaise up. She took it.
"Perhaps. . . ." she muttered as they walked back to the others, who were finishing checking for rogue lawn gnomes. "Or maybe we'll get in the middle of it and get stuck solving another mystery that has to do with Voldemort."
Harry sighed. "I get the feeling we'll never have a boring year at Hogwarts," he told her as they headed back inside.
"You aren't the only one," Blaise said with a rueful grin.
oOoOo
Authoress's Note: Extra special thank you to SaphirePhoenix for help with how I should put Dobby in and for giving me an idea for what the gnome should say to Blaise. Thank you to all my reviewers for spurring me on!