Chapter 10 - The Rogue Bludger
"What now?" Ron grumbled.
Hermione sniffed, wiped her eyes, and straightened up, "We need to send another owl, and I'm not going to let you all argue out of it. We have to tell the Professors that the basilisk has been dealt with and that the perpetrator has moved on to other plans that we are unaware of."
"We need to get them to warn the students," Harry sniffed in disgust.
"Have they done anything for poor Mrs Norris yet?" Neville whimpered.
"We were with you two in the hospital wing at the time, but Dean says Dumbledore had a minute of silence for Mrs Norris after her 'untimely demise,'" Ron snorted. "But he didn't say anything about how she died."
They headed to their first class and found the halls buzzing with talk of the mud-painted walls.
"So it wasn't just Gryffindor," Ron mumbled. "Doesn't sound like any Slytherins were targeted though."
"There are no muggleborns in Slytherin," Draco smirked.
"How is that possible?" Hermione wondered.
Draco raised an imperious eyebrow and paused in thought, "I think we scare them off on the train ride here."
"However did this dark lord get around to everyone in one night?" Harry shivered, "He's like an evil Father Christmas!"
Hermione made to branch off from the group with a quick word that she would meet them in class.
"Where are you going?" Ron demanded.
Hermione rolled her eyes at the witches' hat on the door before her.
"Cupcake!" Ron urged.
Harry giggled, "I know." He latched onto Neville's hand and dragged him through the door to the girls' loo, leaving Hermione to wander in bewilderedly behind them.
"What?" Hermione sputtered, struggling for words. "You, what?"
"You're not going anywhere without at least one of us, Hermione," Harry schooled his giggles into a sincere demeanour. "We didn't kill that basilisk for nothing, I'll have you know. Besides, I've been in the girls' room with you before."
"There was a troll then," Hermione said, still in shock. "It won't always be empty in here you know."
"Oh hush, it's just Neville and lil' old Cupcake," Harry waved his hand, "Nobody will mind."
oo00O00oo
The day passed quickly, most of it spent too immersed in study to worry much for other matters.
After a particularly horrendous shared Potions class, the group trudged to the library to regain their bearings and get some work done before dinner. A quick glare from Draco and a growl from Ron had the two fourth-year Ravenclaws seated at the group's regular table switching seats to two tables over.
They slumped into place and sat, still dazed, enraged, and scared out of their wits due to Snape's vitriolic teaching style. Finally Hermione shook herself out of it and shuffled through her bag for a quill and parchment so she could begin the next information owl for the professors. Harry tinkered with it, then Draco, before Hermione glossed it back into a cohesive work and handed it over to Ron to rewrite. His penmanship, when exacted to form, was completely unrelated to the chicken scratch the professors were accustomed to seeing in his assignments.
They had just begun to look at their Potions homework when Neville looked up with a worried frown. "We have to do something about Vincent," he said.
"I know!" Harry wailed and wriggled lower into his seat. "Could you believe Potions today? How does the Headmaster expect Vincent to catch up with that in the summer? Maybe if it were only Potions it would be okay, but Potions on top of everything else as well?"
"There has to be a faster way to wake him up," Gregory said, "Why aren't they doing anything?"
"The Headmaster - "
"The Headmaster can kiss my freckled arse," Ron's face turned dark. "You know if it were Cupcake or even Malfoy, Dumbledore would have them awake by now. The wizarding world would go ballistic if they heard the Boy-Who-Lived was going to spend a year petrified! And Malfoy's dad would have Dumbledore by the stones - "
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed with a deep blush.
"- so bad he be forced to find a way to wake him up or face the public or the Board of Governors or something."
"Well why couldn't Vincent's parents do the same?" Hermione frowned after the group agreed that Ron was likely right.
"Well Vincent isn't the Boy-Who-Lived, and the Crabbes aren't Malfoys," Draco smirked.
"What would he do then?" Harry pouted his lips, "If it was me or Draco, what would Dumbledore be doing that he isn't?"
"Bring in a Healer or a specialist?" Neville said.
"Can we do that?" Gregory asked, and all eyes turned to Draco.
"It isn't me petrified, so I don't think Father will want to get involved," Draco mused with a frown. "I don't expect he'll want any extra eyes turning his way without good reason."
"What about the mandrakes?" Hermione narrowed her eyes. "The professors are waiting until Professor Sprout's mandrakes are matured, but couldn't they get them from somewhere else?"
The boys nodded eagerly.
"So why aren't they?" she quirked her brow.
Ron let out a deep sigh, "Please don't say it, Hermione! I can't read another book!"
Hermione maintained an indignant humph for only moments before she and the group broke into giggles. She grabbed Draco's wrist and with a roll of the eyes, headed into the library's maze of tomes.
By the time she returned, all Potions assignments had been cast aside to be wrestled with another day. Ron was face first on the desk with his arms spread out amid his Charms homework, fully completed Hermione noted with a pleased nod, and Harry was busy tutoring Neville and Gregory with their Transfiguration work. He spared her and Draco a quick wink as they sat to pour through Fungus Shmungus: Grow, Buy, Sell, and Hey, Don't Eat That!
Neville and Gregory were parched and throats sore from mastering their Transfigurations incantations and were ready for a well needed intrusion when Hermione cleared her throat.
"Well here's something," she said. "I suppose the Headmaster is waiting until Professor Sprout has grown her own because, mandrake is really expensive."
The group turned their eyes once again to Draco, who leaned over to look at the figures.
Many unsavoury facial expressions, such as eye bulging, had long since been bred out of the Malfoy line, and any inclinations that remained had been trained out of Draco during early childhood, so having grasped the listed figures, Draco could do little more than pale, "What she means to say is that mandrake is really expensive," he awed. "It would be months before my allowance would cover this."
The book was passed around so that the others could gasp and adopt the dejected postures that Draco was genetically incapable of achieving.
"Maybe we could take up a collection?" Neville chewed at his bottom lip.
"Absolutely not!" Draco sneered, "There has never been a Malfoy, ever, who has stood holding a collection cauldron, and I certainly am not going to be the first!"
"Actually," Hermione looked back to the book, "Even if we had the money, mandrake is almost impossible to get. If you remember from the day we re-potted them, they actually looked a lot like human babies then, which means they grow up to look a lot like human adults. They've probably already learned to walk in fact. Anyway, this means that mandrake is a 'partially sentient' plant, so it actually has to be killed in order to use it. The book likens it to killing a cat or dog."
Draco groaned under his breath, "Restricted?" he asked.
Hermione nodded, "It says here that mandrake is 'a class two restricted item on the Ministry watch list,' which means the Ministry controls its growth, death, use, and distribution."
"So what?" Ron shrugged, "I bet somewhere on Knockturn would have it."
"Probably," Draco quirked a brow, "But we won't have a chance to get there until Christmas holidays, and we won't have the money by then. Bother!" he burst out, "I can't believe there are things out there that even I can't afford!"
Ron let out a snort and rolled exasperated eyes with Harry, the two turned to meet Hermione's own flabbergasted huff, and Gregory's and Neville's incredulous smirks.
"Welcome to the real world, Malfoy."
"Well then, Weasley," Draco glared. "What happens in this real world of yours when you need Galleons fast and don't have them?"
"People get jobs," Hermione nodded, "Take out loans, sell things."
"I'm not selling off my things," Draco snapped, "So stop looking at me like that all of you!"
The group slumped into their seats again, lost as to what to do.
Neville peeped up and began to giggle, "We could sell signed photographs of Cupcake, maybe Lockhart would help!"
The group burst into giggles but sobered quickly.
"You know," Ron perked up again, "We might not even need actual money. I bet we could trade for the mandrake when we go into Knockturn over the Christmas holidays. We've got an entire basilisk sitting in that bedroom. That's got to be worth something."
"You don't just walk into Knockturn with a pocketful of basilisk and start asking to trade," Draco sneered, "Especially if you are a twelve year old Weasley, Potter, Longbottom, or muggleborn. Which isn't to say that Gregory or I would have any better luck not being kidnapped and such."
"Ron is onto something though," Harry mused. "A basilisk has got to be worth, well, a small fortune I'd say. If we could figure out -"
"Stop right there, Harry Potter!" Hermione gasped. "You all may have been able to kill it but there is no way even the group of us combined would be able to carry it out of the castle whole, even with magic. And don't even start about cutting it into manageable pieces or just taking the fangs because the only thing that isn't severely poisonous about a basilisk is the outside of its skin. Just touching the fangs will burn your hand off, same with the blood, or the eyes, or anything else."
"We'd wear gloves," Ron snorted, as if that explained everything.
Hermione huffed and looked about ready to smack him.
"I think she means it would burn through the gloves," Gregory grinned as Ron blushed scarlet.
"Doesn't matter anyway," Draco frowned, "I can't ask my father, and Gregory can't ask his, and without them any dealer would simply rob us."
"So we get a bad price," Ron shrugged, "So what? It'll be worth it."
"Er, Ron?" Harry peeped with a grin, "I think by 'rob us,' Draco meant that they would steal the basilisk and then leave our mangled bloody corpses in a back alley."
"Oh. Right," Ron grimaced and blushed again. Weasleys had never had to worry about that sort of thing before.
"This is too dangerous," Neville whimpered. "If we knew someone who could help us, fine, but we can't risk just asking strangers."
Albeit reluctantly, the rest of the group agreed.
"Er," Gregory cleared his throat and flushed, "Christmas holidays are too far away anyway. That's weeks and weeks of work that Vincent will have to catch up on. I don't know if he can do that ... I know I couldn't."
"Greg's right," Neville said, "If we're going to risk it, it should be worth something. There's no point doing all this if Vincent's going to be held back anyway."
"I hate to say it," Draco smirked, "But I wouldn't be too surprised if Hagrid knew someone in Knockturn. Why not ask him to ask around for mandrake for us? He could have it in a matter of days."
"But what if he got caught?" Hermione frowned, "I suppose he'd have the excuse that he wanted to help a petrified student be revived sooner, but …"
"Hagrid is abso-toodle-lutely our last resort," Harry said in a firm voice, ever quick to keep his first ever friend out of trouble.
"We already hit that point, Cupcake," Ron said.
"Oh no we haven't!" Harry gasped and shimmied his shoulders in delight, "I'm such a silly goose! We know at least one person in Knockturn who can be trusted not to eat us on first sight." He paused for dramatic effect, "The purple-eyed man!" Harry exclaimed with glee. "I can't believe I'd forgotten about him. He gave us his card that time, I bet he'd know what to do."
The boys' cheers were repeated with a hush upon receiving visceral glares from Madam Pince and to a lesser degree, Hermione.
"You guys keep forgetting the first problem," she huffed, "Even if he could sell it for us, we'd still die extracting the parts."
"But if he can sell if for us," Harry wiggled in annoyance, "Then he might know how to extract the parts without dying! Or he would find out for us. Sheesh Hermione, you know you're supposed to be the smart one."
"I am the smart one!" Hermione glared.
"Besides," Harry perked up even more. "If we can sweet talk lady luck just right, maybe we won't even have to touch anything dangerous at all. There's that huge basilisk skin just sitting there. If that's worth enough, we won't have to do anything else."
After a breath, she rolled her eyes. "Harry, do you really want to be in direct contact with someone who not only knows how to sell basilisk parts, but is willing to sell it for children? Do you know how shady and dangerous that would make him?"
Harry groaned, "He is shady and dangerous, Hermione! We know that already! He works in Knockturn Alley, he sold duelling holsters to second year students who were alone in Knockturn Alley! He's shady! But who cares? It'll all be perfectly safe and respectable. Or whatever."
"Look, Hermione, it isn't like we have a whole lot of other options at this point," Ron added. "And Vincent is going to have to wake up bloody soon if he's going to get to third year on time."
"Besides," Draco argued, "We were all there once and he didn't try anything. And Cupcake was there once before that, with his muggle aunt no less.
"He arranged the Knight Bus for me and everything!" Harry squealed. "And we wouldn't even have to meet in person, I have his Floo address. He might not be one of the good guys, but if he were, he wouldn't be able to help us, would he?"
Hermione sighed in defeat, they really had no choice. If it were Ron or Harry or Draco or herself, they'd have time to figure out a better plan, but Vincent simply couldn't afford to miss any more classes if it could be helped.
"Fine," she nodded, "I'm only agreeing because we've got the basilisk skin. It's safe, and it's just sitting there so we owe it to Vincent to at least try. But if that doesn't work out, then we have to stop."
"Hermione's right," Neville continued to tremble, "I want Vincent awake as much as any of you, probably more, but not if waking him up just means someone else takes his place in the hospital wing."
"Exactly," Hermione nodded to Neville, "We'll make one single Floo call, if the skin is worth something we can take it from there. And even with the Floo, we have to be careful. Harry, you have to keep your scar covered, he can't know he's dealing with the Boy-Who-Lived. Same goes for you Ron, and you too Neville, the Weasleys and the Longbottoms are well known families who are historically aligned with the Light. It would be a terrible scandal if either of you were caught dealing with a Knockturn merchant."
"Actually," Draco frowned, "Once Cupcake makes the first contact it'll be best if one of the three of us," he nodded to Hermione and Gregory, "Take over the conversation."
"Fine," Harry pouted with dreamy eyes, "But I want a good long look at him first, even if that means I have to speak very slowly."
oo00O00oo
After his unequivocal humiliation during the first class, Lockhart had taken to simply ignoring the entire lot of male Gryffindor second years, and instead, spent the duration of class calling on Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, and Hermione, to play the part of damsel in distress as he enacted the heroic rescue scenarios outlined in his presumably fictitious texts. The male students used the class time to catch up on their other homework or read up on the theory portions of Hermione's lesson plan. That said, it was nothing out of the ordinary when next class, Lockhart wrestled a stuffed dog, er, werewolf, to the ground and rescued Hermione from the desk, er, tree she was trapped in. Indeed, with the exception of now planning the upcoming Floo call, the rest of the week was back to routine. Classes, homework, detentions, Quidditch practices, and Dark Arts and its Defence work.
They had agreed, that Sunday night would be the best chance for them to contact the purple-eyed man, so until then, the group was able to turn their unrest to other anxiety ridden issues and dilemmas. As such, Friday night saw both Harry and Draco huddled on the second year boys' bed, wracked with nerves in anticipation of the events of the following day, the first Quidditch match of the year: Gryffindor Vs. Slytherin.
"Ease up, Malfoy," Ron grinned, "We can barely deal with Cupcake's nerves, we can't have you getting crazy too."
"Malfoys do not succumb to the lowly impulses of nervousness," Draco claimed with a shaky but reasonably haughty sniff.
"Then why are you green?" Ron snorted.
"Cupcake is trembling," Draco nodded, "It's making me queasy. Yes, that's right."
Saturday morning dawned muggy and grey, with a hint of thunder in the air.
Draco and Harry were wished luck and given hugs and handshakes from their opposing house friends before making their way into the Great Hall for breakfast. They had agreed that as it was only a once a year occurrence, it would be best for the Gryffindors and Slytherins to sit at their separate tables, in order to maintain team solidarity before the game.
As had become routine, the Gryffindors each contributed to Harry's - as Draco once called it - 'Breakfast of Champions,' which consisted of various sweets. Neville and Hermione were determined to keep him healthy and added scones, bananas, and whipped cream to the mix of chocolate frogs, sticky buns, and pumpkin pasties already on his plate.
"Relax, Cupcake," Ron leaned over to squeeze the small boy's shoulder.
"But what if we win and he gets angry?" Harry worried.
"He already knows Gryffindor is going to win," Ron snorted, "Just don't catch the Snitch before he gets to show off and it'll be fine."
"But what if he's awful?" Neville giggled.
"Neville!" Hermione exclaimed, though she too couldn't help her giggles from escaping.
Harry received a last round of hugs before entering the locker rooms and left his friends to make their way to the Gryffindor stands. The teams separated to the boys' and girls' opposite ends to don their scarlet Gryffindor robes, and met up again in the middle once they were done.
While waiting for team captain, sixth year Oliver Wood, to finish pacing, Harry busied himself by braiding Chaser, Alica Spinnet's hair for the game.
Oliver stopped before them, his eyes shone with determined steel, and he delivered his pre-match pep talk with the maniacal obsession the team had grown to expect. "And you," he turned to gleam at Harry, "You catch that Snitch if it's the last thing you do."
Harry nodded, though he was equally determined not to catch the Snitch until Draco had at least a couple of goals under his belt, even if that meant he had to bat the Snitch away instead of catching it in order to give his pale friend more time.
They strode onto the pitch amidst the announcement of their names and uproarious cheers from the stands. The team captains shook hands and shared poisonous looks, and then ...
"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "Three ... two ... one ..."
With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch. While he didn't want to make a quick catch, he certainly didn't want the Slytherin Seeker to find it first.
The Gryffindor Chasers took first possession of the Quaffle and were racing toward the Slytherin side.
Harry caught sight of his friend, who was looking slightly greener than was usual for the blond.
"Yoo hoo, Drakeypoo!" Harry called with a damsel worthy wave. The pale boy turned and managed a weak smirk. "Don't forget, we have tea with Hagrid after the game, so don't get hurt!"
Draco seemed to calm and broke into a full smirk this time. He was just about to reply, but Harry couldn't wait around to hear it, at that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting toward him. Harry veered to the left, saving himself so narrowly he felt his ungelled hair ruffle as it passed.
"Close one, Harry!" George yelled, streaking passed him to give the Bludger a powerful whack with his bat, but the Bludger changed direction midair and shot straight for Harry again.
Harry put on a burst of speed and shot toward the other end of the pitch; he could hear the Bludger zooming along behind him all the while. Harry chewed on his lip and began to worry; the Bludgers were supposed to unseat as many people as possible, not concentrate on a single player. He wanted to start scanning the stands, looking for behaviour reminiscent of their former Defence Professor, but the Bludger's attentions wouldn't allow it.
Fred was waiting for the rampaging ball at the other end and swung his bat just as Harry scooted out of the way, catching the ball in the spot Harry's head was at just a moment before.
"Gotcha!" Fred yelled, but he was wrong. The Bludger didn't get thirty feet away before it zoned in on Harry again.
To top things off, it had started to rain. Harry had wanted his hair and robes to ripple in the wind, billowing behind him as he flew through the air, but instead heavy wet globules had plastered his hair to his head and soaked his uniform through.
He was kept so busy weaving and dodging, that he had no chance to look for the Snitch. In fact, he hadn't a clue what was going on with the game until he heard the commentator, Lee Jordan, shout, "Malfoy scores! Slytherin now lead 60 nil. The Gryffindors will have to put on some steam if they want to catch up."
The Bludger would not relent and soon George was signalling their captain for a timeout. Madam Hooch's whistle rang out and Harry and the twins dove for the ground, dodging the Bludger as it went in for one last attack.
"What the bloody hell's going on?" Wood bellowed as the Gryffindor team huddled together. "We're the Quidditch Cup holders and we're being flattened! F 'n G, our girls have been alone out there this whole game! Where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring just now?"
"We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from taking Harry's head off, Oliver," George yelled back, giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze. "The damn thing's been tampered with - "
"- It won't leave Harry alone - " Fred continued.
"- It hasn't gone for anyone else all game, no matter what direction we hit it - "
"- It just turns around and heads straight for Harry!" the two finished together.
Madam Hooch was walking toward them with the Slytherin team following close behind to eavesdrop.
"That Bludger is attacking my Seeker!" Wood glared before she could restart the game.
"Did the balls behave strangely at your last practice?" Madam Hooch asked with a worried frown. Oliver shook his head. "Gryffindor had them last, and they've been locked in my office since then. I didn't detect any damage to my wards when I retrieved the balls today, but Bludger's can get a bit frisky after an extended time between actual game play," Madame Hooch mused. "If you want to ask for an inquiry ..."
"And forfeit the match?" Oliver cried out, "Never!" The Gryffindor team groaned behind him.
Madame Hooch nodded and signalled that they had thirty seconds left of their timeout. She turned to wait with an eye on her watch and the whistle ready on her lips.
"Fred," Oliver hurried, "Protect our Chasers. George, stick with Harry. Harry forget about the Bludgers and find that bloody Snitch!"
And with that, the whistle sounded and the players returned to the air.
Draco held Harry back before he was very high off the ground, "Is someone trying to kill you again?" he asked with a voice tinged with incredulity.
"Probably," Harry peeped.
"Oh bother, then finish this, Harry!" Draco glared, "Fast!"
The game continued on far longer than Harry would have liked. George was about ready to fall off his broom and Harry was long passed frantic when he finally spotted the coveted glint of gold.
"George!" he shrieked, "Follow me!" and he was off. He flew like he had Yoo Hoo himself on his tail and indeed, he could hear George just behind him clobbering the malevolent Bludger nearly every second.
Harry bit his lip with desperate resolve, he had to end the game now, neither he nor George had the strength or energy to play on much further. He leaned forward, and reached out ... and waved the golden Snitch like a beacon of hope.
Not knowing whether his attacker would take heed of Madam Hooch's endgame whistle, Harry and George flew as fast as they could to the ground. The other Gryffindors were close behind, with the Slytherins following suit.
Fred and George still had their bats in hand and kept Harry snug between them, just in case, though Harry was much too fraught with worry and exhaustion to even enjoy the closeness much.
Both teams turned to see where the Bludger was. It had taken to the sky and hovered in the centre of the pitch. With an ear bursting sound, the Bludger exploded in a sea of terrible green light. A liquid stream of crimson followed and after a moment a message was clear:
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE!
The entire staff in attendance were already hurrying onto the pitch, many with wands out investigating or attempting to remove the skywriting.
"This is becoming tradition with you," George said, "Being attacked in the Slytherin match."
Draco huddled with the Gryffindor team and they waited as the stands emptied and the crowd spilled onto the pitch to wonder at the message still in the sky.
Though the logic wasn't sound, the Slytherin captain had just begun to protest that yet another Slytherin/Gryffindor match was ended unfairly due to attempts on 'that scrawny little Seeker's' life, when the rest of Harry's Gryffindor friends arrived with Hagrid. Gregory appeared just moments after from the Slytherin side.
"Not to worry, not to worry, everyone," a pompous voice approached from behind. "I know just the incantation to remove this. If only I had arrived sooner I could have prevented this disaster!" The glittering man assumed a jaunty pose and drew his wand with a flourish once eyes had turned his way.
"Put your worthless wand away, Gilderoy," a dark sneer answered. "Utterly useless excuse for a wizard."
"We must follow procedure and let our Charms Master have a go," Professor McGonagall stepped in with rather more tact, "Before we trouble your, ahem, expertise."
"Ah, of course, I wouldn't want to steal the show," Lockhart bowed, but upon rising, raised his wand again, "Ah, Harry, there's a spot of blood on you, Quidditch can be dangerous when you haven't been properly instructed, I can fix that up in a flash."
"I just bit my lip!" Harry cried out. "I'm fine!" The team hurried to the change-rooms, safely away from Lockhart's incompetence.
"I said away, Lockhart!" Snape sneered again, and clasped his long bony fingers around the Defence professor's adorned wrist.
Lockhart blanched and lowered his arm, deciding instead to bother Professor Flitwick as he worked.
"Moron!" Ron shouted at the wizard's retreating back, and received in return his first, and quite possibly his last, approving nod from the Potions Master.
The crimson letters were dispelled with quick work -
"A good show, Professor," Lockhart said with a wink, "Not the way I would have done things, but I can't expect you to have come in such close contact with the Dark and the dangerous as I have."
- and the pitch was quickly beginning to empty. With much cause for concern, Hagrid elected to wait on the pitch for Harry and Draco, and sent the others on ahead to start the kettle for hot chocolate.
When the two boys emerged from the change-rooms, Hagrid engulfed them both in fierce hugs and led them back to his hut.
"And'ere I thought yeh were goin' ta keep out a trouble this year," Hagrid ruffled Harry's hair. "Yeh did well today, little dainty, and you too, Draco. Four goals in yer very firs' match! An' against Oliver Wood, no less. He'll be playin' professional when 'e finishes up 'ere, so that's no small task."
Harry and Draco beamed.
Once warmed with cocoa and fresh cupcakes, talk turned from the game to the endgame message.
"Enemies of the heir, beware," Gregory mumbled to himself, while patting Neville's shivering shoulders.
"You think it's a threat?" Ron asked.
"Considering someone tried to kill Harry today," Draco sneered, "And the mud on the walls last week, I think we can safely call it a threat."
"Or a warning," Neville trembled.
"Neville has a point," Hermione nodded. "You don't let people know you're going to attack beforehand. You surprise them so they don't have a chance to fight back."
"Unless they're trying to scare us."
"Now you all don' worry yerselves over this," Hagrid said, "The Professors will take care of everythin.'"
"Do you think I should bake George a soufflé?" Harry gushed with starry eyes on their way back to the castle. "I bet he saved my life today, he was so brave! Fighting off that blasted Bludger, he was amazing," he finished with a dreamy spin and a quick skip.
"Harry," Ron rolled his eyes, "We're at school, where are you going to bake a cake?"
"The Muggle Studies room, silly," Harry rolled his eyes, "Obviously!"
Harry spent the evening in linked elbows with the twins, fluttering his lashes at the both of them and regaling the common room with his first person account of the twins' team efforts and then George's one man ongoing rescue. Both twins grinning and guffawing at Harry's obvious, and oft outlandish embellishments.
Finally, but much too soon for Harry's liking, Ron and Neville dragged him away and to their dorm-room.
"Late night tomorrow, Cupcake," Ron smirked, "You need your rest."
oo00O00oo
It was nearing one in the morning when the boys tiptoed out of the dorm the following night. Hermione was already waiting with the fire burning bright and warm.
"Do you have the card, Harry?" she asked.
Harry nodded and handed it to her. It was cream coloured and looked rather innocuous, and was inscribed on the front:
Axelrod's: Purveyors of Fine Goods
Floo to: Axelrod's, LondonBusiness hours from 9 - 6 daily
On the back was hand written with precise script:
Private/after-hours:
Axelrod's, Knockturn, Goods and Necessities
"Alright then," she sighed. Harry tossed a pinch of Draco's stash of Floo powder into the fire and announced the after-hours address. Moments later, the chestnut locks and purple eyes appeared.
"Good evening Mister Cole," the handsome face cast a swoon worthy smirk into the flames.
"Good evening, Mister Axelrod?" Harry peeped, unsure if that was even the handsome man's name. "My friends and I have a couple questions we were hoping you could help us with."
Mister Axelrod nodded.
"One of my friends knows more about this, so it'll be better if you speak with him."
Mister Axelrod smiled, "Certainly not."
Harry glanced at his friends whose excited faces were fading to worried frowns. Draco paused halfway through moving to take Harry's spot, and unsure what to do, stayed in his tableau until Ron yanked him back to the floor to sit down.
"If your friend is there, he can surely advise you, but I will speak to you and you alone at this time."
Draco finally nodded his agreement and Harry turned back to the fire.
"Er, well, right then," he gave himself a wiggle and tried to get himself collected. He had dealt with the purple-eyed man before, surely this would be no different. With a harrumph and a shoulder shimmy, he was ready. "Well Mister Axelrod," he forced a grin, "We've got a nasty length of a shed basilisk skin on our hands, but what we really need is mandrake root. Any ideas?"
"Where, may I ask, did you procure a shed basilisk skin?" the purple eyes seemed to twinkle.
"Eeep!" Harry exclaimed, Draco had given him a firm pinch on the thigh and could be seen glaring and shaking his head. "Er, does it matter?" Harry asked.
"No," the purple-eyed man grinned, "For what purpose do you intend to use the mandrake root?"
"And does that matter?" Harry tried again.
"Yes," was the firm reply.
Draco quirked his brow in thought and then nodded.
"We know someone that has been petrified by a basilisk and we need mandrake to restore him. Super fast. Super duper fast."
"A qualified brewer?"
"Already lined up," Harry quipped with a wink.
"The person petrified," the purple-eyed man tapped slender fingers in the fire, "Am I to assume that he is your size?"
"Bigger than me, about twice my size actually."
"I see," Mister Axelrod continued, "And the length of skin in your supply?"
"We, eeeek!" Harry squealed as his thigh was pinched yet again. Draco was shaking his head with panicked eyes. Harry thought fast. "Er, how much basilisk skin would you need to cover the cost of the mandrake root?"
The man nodded, "Very good, Mister Cole. Between the mandrake root and my fee for dealing in such matters, 15 feet of undamaged skin should do nicely."
Harry had never witnessed Uncle Vernon do anything as savvy as bargain a price, he merely demanded and then bullied, and Draco's previous dealings for their wand holsters over the summer didn't provide nearly enough instruction. As it was, even with the damage the rooster caused, they easily had Mister Axelrod's desired amount and more.
"Deal," Harry nodded with a grin and shrug.
"Good. Now, if you have someone available I will discuss with them the arrangements and preparations for our transaction."
Harry pushed out his bottom lip in confusion and looked once again to Draco, who after a moment, smirked and nodded, elbowing Ron in the side to edge him forward.
"Okay," Harry agreed. The purple-eyed man gave him a knee wobbling wink and wished him well before Harry turned the Floo over to Ron.
"Everything okay?" Harry pouted once Ron closed the connection.
"Perfect," Ron grinned. "That was brilliant, mate! We'll have the mandrake by Friday."
"What was that about, do you think?" Harry continued to pout, "Why did he stop talking to me?"
"That's how things get handled with my father most of the time," Draco puffed out his chest. "This is good, Cupcake, it means you're in a position to not have to do the dirty work."
"Oh great," Ron flushed, "You pushed me forward to be the guy who does the dirty work? Thanks, Malfoy."
"Well it certainly wasn't going to be me!" Draco smirked.
Harry's eyes glittered wickedly, "I suppose Draco's right, Ron. I mean, really, if I do grow up to be a super sexy dark lord, it probably means you'll have to do a lot of stuff like that. You did call Second-in-Command."
Ron's glare turned back to a grin while Draco turned aghast with protest.