A Helping Hand & Aboard the Hogwarts Express
There was a definite end-of-the-holidays gloom in the air when Hermione awoke next morning. Heavy rain was still splattering against the window as she got dressed in jeans and a top; they would change into their school robes on the Hogwarts Express.
Walking over to the bathroom to wash her face, Hermione heard the twins talking in their room about something they were working on.
"If we could just manage to make it blend with the unicorn horn, we'd be set," one of the twins said with slight anxiousness in his voice.
The other one added, "We've tried the powdered moonstone, but that caused our skin to change colours-"
"What are you two talking about?" Hermione said as she appeared in their doorway.
"How to make a love potion to get you to fall in love with me, Granger," George winked at her.
Fred smacked him on the arm, "I thought that was supposed to be for me, you liar!" he faked some tears, "I thought you loved me!"
Hermione just waited them out, knowing that the twins could go on like this for hours. "Would you like me to help you with something?"
They both turned to her, their eyes wide and grins on their faces.
"Oh, dearest Hermione," George batted his eyelashes dramatically, "how kind of you to offer your assistance to us less clever folk-"
"-we will be forever in your debt if you would be so kind as to lend us your intellect." Fred finished with a hand over his heart.
Hermione walked into the room and examined a small cauldron full of a bubbling mixture. "What are you trying to make?"
"We're working on our products, and right now we're trying to perfect the Fever Fudge," George looked over her shoulder. "We just need to find an ingredient that positively reacts with ground unicorn horn. We tried powdered moonstone, but-"
"It changed your skin colours, I heard," Hermione said. "You know, if this is one of your prank projects, I don't know if I want anything to do with it."
"Prank projects?" Fred said, feigning disbelief. "My dear, this is not a 'prank project', as you so eloquently put it; this is a lifestyle, a job that no wizard has taken up before now."
"This is our passion, Hermione," George waved a hand over the cauldron, "and we would be ever so grateful if you helped us accomplish it."
Hermione pursed her lips. This was everything that she had stood against throughout her school career, but what the twins were doing, this kind of magic, was really extraordinary.
Fred's face fell a little and he spoke, looking at his shoes. "Haven't you ever wanted something so much that you would do anything to try and make it real?" he asked in little more than a whisper, looking at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. George snuck a glance at his brother before looking at the cauldron.
"That's how we feel about this, Hermione," George said. "This is the one thing we've truly wanted for years, but no one thinks we can or should do it."
Hermione bit her lip and said softly, "I'll help you."
The twins both breathed a sigh of relief and high-fived behind her back.
Just then, Mrs. Weasley's frantic voice was heard.
"Arthur!" she called up the staircase. "Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!"
"I wonder what that's about," George walked over and stuck his head out the door. "I hope it's nothing too serious."
"Maybe it's still news about the Cup?" Fred suggested.
George pulled his head back in to the room and shrugged, making his way back over to the other two.
"Alright," said Hermione, wanting to finish before breakfast, "what are the ingredients you've put in, and what are you trying to add?"
The new trio immediately started their work.
The three worked until Mrs. Weasley's voice called up the stairs yet again, this time saying breakfast was ready.
Fred, George, and Hermione discussed their work as they descended the stairs to the kitchen.
"So it was just a matter of adding syrup of hellebore after the moonstone, stirring it counter-clockwise, and then adding the unicorn horn?" George looked as if he were trying to figure out a puzzle.
"Yes, but you have to be exact with the adding and stirring, otherwise it'll explode." Hermione said over her shoulder.
"Brilliant," the twins said together.
"Well, it's an easy mistake to make if you're not reading from a book, which you're not, so-"
"Wait," Fred stopped her, "Mum's in earshot."
Sure enough, from where they were standing, the three could see Mrs. Weasley bustling about the kitchen, making sure Harry had had enough to eat.
As they went the rest of the way down, Mrs. Weasley glanced at them.
"There you three are, what have you been doing?"
Before they could answer, the witch continued speaking. "Come and eat, your breakfast is getting cold."
As the three sat down, Hermione noticed Mr. Weasley crouched by the fireplace with a quill and parchment in one hand.
"...I'll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he could reach through the window," said a man's voice, "but they'll have a job proving it, there aren't any casualties."
Hermione leaned back in her chair to see whose voice was speaking to Mr. Weasley. Amos Diggory's head was sitting in the middle of the flames like a large, bearded egg. Mr. Diggory's head looked around at Mrs. Weasley.
"All right, I'm off," Mr. Weasley said, and he stuffed the parchment with his notes on it into his pocket and dashed out of the kitchen.
"Sorry about this, Molly," the head said, more calmly, "bothering you so early and everything...but Arthur's the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and Mad-Eye's supposed to be starting his new job today. Why he had to choose last night..."
"Never mind, Amos," said Mrs. Weasley. "Sure you won't have a bit of toast or anything before you go?"
"Oh, go on, then," said Mr. Diggory.
Mrs. Weasley took a piece of buttered toast from a stack on the kitchen table, put it into the fire tongs, and transferred it into Mr. Diggory's mouth.
"Fanks," he said in a muffled voice, and then, with a small pop, vanished.
Hermione could hear Mr. Weasley calling hurried good-byes to Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Ginny. Within five minutes, he was back in the kitchen, dragging a comb through his hair.
"I'd better hurry-you have a good term, Hermione, boys," said Mr. Weasley to Hermione, Harry, Ron, and the twins, fastening a cloak over his shoulders and preparing to Disapparate. "Molly, are you going to be all right taking the kids to King's Cross?"
"Of course I will," she said. "You just look after Mad-Eye, we'll be fine."
As Mr. Weasley vanished, Bill and Charlie entered the kitchen.
"Did someone say Mad-Eye?" Bill asked. "What's he been up to now."
"He says someone tried to break into his house last night," said Mrs. Weasley.
"Mad-Eye Moody?" said George thoughtfully, spreading marmalade on his toast. "Isn't he that nutter -"
"Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody," said Mrs. Weasley sternly.
"Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn't he?" said Fred quietly as Mrs. Weasley left the room. "Birds of a feather..."
Hermione gave Fred a disapproving look. He just shrugged in response.
"Moody was a great wizard in his time," said Bill.
"He's an old friend of Dumbledore's, isn't he?" said Charlie.
"Dumbledore's not what you'd call normal, though, is he?" said Fred. "I mean, I know he's a genius and everything..."
"Who is Mad-Eye?" asked Harry.
"He's retired, used to work at the Ministry," said Charlie. "I met him once when Dad took me into work with him. He was an Auror - one of the best...a Dark wizard catcher," he added, seeing Harry's blank look. "Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though...the families of people he caught, mainly...and I heard he's been getting really paranoid in his old age. Doesn't trust anyone anymore. Sees Dark wizards everywhere."
Bill and Charlie decided to come and see everyone off at King's Cross station, but Percy, apologizing most profusely, said that he really needed to get to work.
"I just can't justify taking more time off at the moment," he told them. "Mr. Crouch is really starting to rely on me."
"Yeah, you know what, Percy?" said George seriously. "I reckon he'll know your name soon."
Mrs. Weasley had braved the telephone in the village post office to order three ordinary Muggle taxis to take them into London.
"Arthur tried to borrow Ministry cars for us," Mrs. Weasley whispered to Hermione and Harry as they stood in the rain-washed yard, watching the taxi drivers heaving six heavy Hogwarts trunks into their cars. "But there weren't any to spare...Oh dear, they don't look happy, do they?"
Hermione didn't like to tell Mrs. Weasley that Muggle taxi drivers rarely transported overexcited owls, and Pigwidgeon was making an earsplitting racket. Nor did it help that a number of Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks went off unexpectedly when Fred's trunk sprang open, causing the driver carrying it to yell with fright and pain as Crookshanks clawed his way up the man's leg.
The journey was uncomfortable, owing to the fact that they were jammed in the back of the taxis with their trunks. Crookshanks took quite a while to recover from the fireworks, and by the time they entered London, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all severely scratched. They were very relieved to get out at King's Cross, even though the rain was coming down harder than ever, and they got soaked carrying their trunks across the busy road and into the station.
Hermione was used to getting onto platform nine and three-quarters by now, though it wasn't her favourite thing. It was a simple matter of walking straight through the apparently solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. The only tricky part was doing this in an unobtrusive way, so as to avoid attracting Muggle attention. They did it in groups today; Harry, Ron, and Hermione (the most conspicuous, since they were accompanied by Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks) went first; they leaned casually against the barrier, chatting unconcernedly, and slid sideways through it...and as they did so, platform nine and three-quarters materialized in front of them.
The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing from it, through which the many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared like dark ghosts. Pigwidgeon became noisier than ever in response to the hooting of many owls through the mist. Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off to find seats, and were soon stowing their luggage in a compartment halfway along the train. They then hopped back down onto the platform to say good-bye to Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie.
"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye.
"Why?" said Fred keenly.
"You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it...it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."
"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.
"Why?" said George impatiently.
"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it."
"A bit of what?" said Ron.
But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied them toward the train doors.
"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.
"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry.
"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but...well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with...one thing and another."
"Mum!" said Ron irritably. "What d'you three know that we don't?"
"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules -"
"What rules?" said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together.
"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you...Now, behave, won't you? Won't you, Fred? And you, George?"
The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move.
"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from them. "What rules are they changing?"
But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved. Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to their compartment. The thick rain splattering the windows made it very difficult to see out of them. Ron undid his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and flung them over Pigwidgeon's cage to muffle his hooting.
"Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily, sitting down next to Harry. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won't say. Wonder what -"
"Shh!" Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to theirs. Harry and Ron listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door.
"...Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do..."
Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice.
"So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" she said angrily. "I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."
"Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" said Harry.
"Yes," said Hermione sniffily, "and it's got a horrible reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts."
"I think I've heard of it," said Ron vaguely. "Where is it? What country?"
"Well, nobody knows, do they?" said Hermione, raising her eyebrows.
"Er - why not?" said Harry.
"There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets," said Hermione matter-of-factly.
"Come off it," said Ron, starting to laugh. "Durmstrang's got to be about the same size as Hogwarts - how are you going to hide a great big castle?"
"But Hogwarts is hidden," said Hermione, in surprise. "Everyone knows that...well, everyone who's read Hogwarts, A History, anyway."
"Just you, then," said Ron. "So go on - how d'you hide a place like Hogwarts?"
"It's bewitched," said Hermione. "If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a moldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE."
"So Durmstrang'll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?"
"Maybe," said Hermione, shrugging, "or it might have Muggle-repelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they'll have made it Unplottable -"
"Come again?"
"Well, you can enchant a building so it's impossible to plot on a map, can't you?"
"Er...if you say so," said Harry.
"But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their uniforms."
"Ah, think of the possibilities," said Ron dreamily. "It would've been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident...Shame his mother likes him..."
The rain became heavier and heavier as the train moved farther north. The sky was so dark and the windows so steamy that the lanterns were lit by midday. The lunch trolley came rattling along the corridor, and Harry bought a large stack of Cauldron Cakes for them to share.
Several of their friends looked in on them as the afternoon progressed, including Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom, a round-faced, extremely forgetful boy who had been brought up by his formidable witch of a grandmother. Seamus was still wearing his Ireland rosette. Some of its magic seemed to be wearing off now; it was still squeaking "Troy - Mullet - Moran!" but in a very feeble and exhausted sort of way. After half an hour or so, Hermione, growing tired of the endless Quidditch talk, buried herself once more in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, and started trying to learn a Summoning Charm. Seamus and Dean departed as Fred and George popped in to check on the trio. When they heard talk about the Cup, they decided to stay and have a chat.
Neville listened jealously to the others' conversation as they relived the Cup match.
"Gran didn't want to go," he said miserably. "Wouldn't buy tickets. It sounded amazing though."
"It was," said Ron. "Look at this, Neville..."
He rummaged in his trunk up in the luggage rack and pulled out the miniature figure of Viktor Krum.
"Yeah, and we called the game before it even started-Ireland won but Krum caught the Snitch." Fred said to Neville, who was thoroughly impressed.
"Yeah, we were owed quite a bit of money from Bagman..." George said under his breath, and his face tensed.
"Oh wow," said Neville enviously as Ron tipped Krum onto his pudgy hand.
"We saw him right up close, as well," said Ron. "We were in the Top Box -"
"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley."
Draco Malfoy had appeared in the doorway. Behind him stood Crabbe and Goyle, his enormous, thuggish cronies, both of whom appeared to have grown at least a foot during the summer. Evidently they had overheard the conversation through the compartment door, which Dean and Seamus had left ajar when they left. Fred and George stood as Malfoy leaned against the doorframe.
"Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," said Harry coolly.
"Weasley...what is that?" said Malfoy, pointing at Pigwidgeon's cage. A sleeve of Ron's dress robes was dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train, the moldy lace cuff very obvious.
Ron made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Malfoy was too quick for him; he seized the sleeve and pulled.
"Look at this!" said Malfoy in ecstasy, holding up Ron's robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle, "Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean - they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety..."
"Eat dung, Malfoy!" said Ron, the same color as the dress robes as he snatched them back out of Malfoy's grip. Malfoy howled with derisive laughter; Crabbe and Goyle guffawed stupidly.
"So...going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know...you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won..."
Fred raised his wand, ready to hex Malfoy, but was stopped by a hand grasped tightly on his sleeve.
"Fred, don't!" Hermione whispered. "You'll get in trouble; wait until we get to school and then you can prank him if you really want to." Her eyes pleaded with him, and he lowered his wand. Hermione let go of the now slightly wrinkled sleeve.
"What are you talking about?" snapped Ron. The twins just glared.
"Are you going to enter?" Malfoy repeated. "I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?"
"Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy," said Hermione testily, having closed her book.
A gleeful smile spread across Malfoy's pale face
"Don't tell me you don't know?" he said delightedly. "You've got a father and brother at the Ministry and you don't even know? My God, my father told me about it ages ago...heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry...Maybe your father's too junior to know about it, Weasley...yes...they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him..."
Laughing once more, Malfoy beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of them disappeared.
Ron got to his feet and slammed the sliding compartment door so hard behind them that the glass shattered.
"Ron!" said Hermione reproachfully, and she pulled out her wand, muttered "Reparo!" and the glass shards flew back into a single pane and back into the door.
"Well...making it look like he knows everything and we don't..." Ron snarled. "'Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry'...Dad could've got a promotion any time...he just likes it where he is..."
"Of course he does," said Hermione quietly. "Don't let Malfoy get to you, Ron -"
"Him! Get to me!? As if!" said Ron, picking up one of the remaining Cauldron Cakes and squashing it into a pulp.
"We better get back to Lee," Fred said, still staring at the spot where Malfoy had been.
"Yeah, wouldn't want him to think we were going to break any rules without him." George finished, and the two exited the compartment without a proper goodbye.
Ron's bad mood continued for the rest of the journey. He didn't talk much as they changed into their school robes, and was still glowering when the Hogwarts Express slowed down at last and finally stopped in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station.
As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. Hermione bundled up Crookshanks in her cloak and Ron left his dress robes over Pigwidgeon as they left the train, heads bent and eyes narrowed against the downpour. The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was as though buckets of ice-cold water were being emptied repeatedly over their heads.
"Hi, Hagrid!" Harry yelled.
"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid bellowed back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don' drown!"
"Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather," said Hermione fervently, shivering as they inched slowly along the dark platform with the rest of the crowd. A hundred horseless carriages stood waiting for them outside the station. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville climbed gratefully into one of them, the door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the track toward Hogwarts Castle.