Chapter Ten - A Little Faster
A.K.A Hermione's Helping Hand
It has recently dawned on me that I have not done a disclaimer in a few chapters. While I don't understand why I should, I shall do it anyway:
If I owned Harry Potter, Hermione would either be dead, less annoying, or not friends with Harry. Ron would be ... well, sort of the same, but he would be less lazy. Dumbledore would have died in the Order of the Phoenix, Sirius would still be alive, and Harry would not be such an idiot.
If I owned Percy Jackson, Jason would be dead, there would've been way more Percabeth in Blood of Olympus, Solangelo would have been introduced far earlier, and Piper and Hazel would be together (yes, really).
So, should you have any doubts as to my owning either franchise, here is your answer: no.
Random musing of the chapter: Who was the first person to get an STD, and how many people did they sleep with to make it so widespread?
*As Hermione had predicted, the sixth-years' free periods were not the hours of blissful relaxation Ron had anticipated, but times in which to attempt to keep up with the vast amount of homework they were being set. Not only were they studying as though they had exams every day, but the lessons themselves had become more demanding. Harry barely understood half of what Professor McGonagall said to them these days, and even Hermione had to ask her to repeat instructions once or twice.* The only exception was Nico, who fell asleep in nearly every class - or pretended to. He was a borderline insomniac, after all.
*Incredibly, and to Hermione's increasing resentment, Harry's best subject had suddenly become Potions, thanks to the Half-Blood Prince.*
Of course, it didn't help that she didn't get the second best slot either - no matter what, Nico's potion always turned out to be exactly perfect, meaning Harry took a close second place.
*Non-verbal spells were now expected, not only in Defence Against the Dark Arts, but in Charms and Transfiguration too. Harry frequently looked over at his classmates in the common room or at mealtimes to see them purple in the face and straining as though they had overdosed on U-No-Poo; but he knew they were really struggling to make spells work without saying the incantations out loud.* It had become a common sight to see some sixth-years come, often red with embarrassment, to ask for help from Nico.
Hermione always went red-faced in anger at this; it was her people always came to for help. It probably didn't help that even Harry and Ron were more likely to ask Nico for help than her now.
This time, it was Susan Bones asking for help.
"Sure," said Nico. "I have a free before lunch. You?"
Susan nodded. "Yeah, me too."
"Do you know where the Room of Requirement is?"
Susan nodded again.
"Meet you there?"
"Sure." She scurried back to the Hufflepuff table, bright red.
"Dude," whispered Harry, "how do you do that?"
"Do what?" asked Nico absent-mindedly, spreading butter over his toast.
"Manage to make everyone, guy or girl, blush just by smiling at them," said Neville.
"Natural charm," he said.
"That's so unfair," whined Ron. "Some people have all the luck."
Nico looked at him contemplatively. "Yes," he agreed. "Some people do."
The, "but not me" remained unsaid, but Harry heard it anyway.
*One result of their enormous workload and the frantic hours of practising non-verbal spells was that Harry, Ron and Hermione had so far been unable to find the time to go and visit Hagrid. He had stopped coming to meals at the staff table, an ominous sign, and on the few occasions they had passed him in the corridors or out in the ground, he had mysteriously failed to notice them or hear their greetings.*
"We've got to go and explain," said Hermione, looking up at Hagrid's huge empty chair at the staff table.
"Already done," said Nico.
"What do you mean?" asked Ron.
"I take Care. I've spoken to Hagrid; justified your situation."
"Then how come he's still ignoring us?"
"I think he wants to hear it from you."
"We should go down after breakfast," said Hermione decisively.
*"We've got Quidditch tryouts this morning!" said Ron. "And we're meant to be practising that Aguamenti charm for Flitwick! Anyway, explain what? How are we going to tell him we hated his stupid subject?"*
"Oh, you know," said Nico idly, "just say 'Hagrid, your subject is stupid and you're a crap teacher.' Of course, it'd crush him on the inside, and you'd be guilt-ridden for days, but you could just say that."
"That's not the point!" said Hermione. "We didn't hate it!"
"Speak for yourself, I haven't forgotten the Skrewts," said Ron darkly. "And I'm telling you now, we've had a narrow escape. You didn't hear him going on about his gormless brother - we'd have been teaching Grawp how to tie his shoelaces if we'd stayed."
"Nope," said Nico. "We're recapping Hippogriffs, actually."
Hermione acted like Nico hadn't said anything.
She really hates the poor guy, said Tom. It's so funny.
"I hate not talking to Hagrid," she said, looking upset.
"We'll go down after Quidditch," Harry assured her. *"But the trials might take all morning, the number of people who have applied." He felt slightly nervous at confronting the first hurdle in his captaincy. "I dunno why the team's this popular all of a sudden."*
Nico rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. "Honestly, you're more oblivious than my brother sometimes."
Harry looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"Dude, you're a total chick magnet. It's not Quidditch that's popular; it's you. You've never been more interesting, or, in the majority of girls' and a few guys' points of view, more datable."
Ron gagged on a piece of kipper.
"What?" said Nico. "C'est vrai, n'est pas? Everyone knows you've been telling the truth now, don't they Harry? They all have to admit that they were wrong and you were right about Tom Riddle being back; that you've fought him twice in the past two years and escaped both. They're even calling you the Chosen One. You can't see why that would fascinate people? Really Harry?"
The Great Hall felt very hot all of a sudden, even though it still looked cold and gloomy outside.
"Aw, he's blushing," said Nico in a baby voice that reminded Harry of Bellatrix Lestrange except less malevolent. Nico pinched Harry's cheeks so that he looked like a chipmunk. "Is Ikkle Hawwykins embawwassed?"
"Gerroff me," said Harry gruffly, prying Nico's fingers off his cheek.
"He's trying to act manly. How cute."
Harry glared at him and made arguably the most obscene of all British hand gestures at Nico.*
He only smirked.
Ron roared with laughter; even Hermione resisted the urge to smile.
Tom, too, was laughing his figurative pants off.
Shut up Tom!
But it's funny, Ikkle Hawwykins.
Harry was saved from having to respond both to Tom and Nico by the arrival of the post owls. They swooped down through the rain flecked windows, scattering everyone with droplets of water. *Most people were receiving more post than usual; anxious parents were keen to hear from their children and to reassure them, in turn, that all was well at home. Harry hadn't received any mail since the start of term; his only regular correspondent was now dead and although he had hoped that Lupin might write occasionally, he had so far been disappointed. He was very surprised, therefore, to see the snowy-white Hedwig circling amongst all the brown and grey owls. She landed in front of him carrying a large, square package. A moment later, an identical package landed in front of Ron, crushing beneath it his minuscule and exhausted owl, Pigwidgeon.
"Ha!" said Harry, unwrapping the parcel to reveal a new copy of Advanced Potion-Making, fresh from Flourish and Blotts.
"Oh good," said Hermione, delighted. "Now you can give that old graffitied copy back."*
"Upset, Granger?" said Nico, expression changing from amused to scary in the blink of an eye. "Hoping to finally get your top spot back? Upset that someone's replaced you?"
Harry agreed. "I'm keeping it," he said. "Look, I've thought it out -"
He pulled the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and tapped the cover with his wand, muttering, "Diffindo!" The cover fell off. He did the same with the brand new book (Hermione looked scandalised while Nico looked amused). He then swapped the covers, tapped each and said, "Reparo!"
"Nice," said Nico. "Very cunning."
"I'll give Slughorn back the new one," said Harry. "He can't complain, it cost nine Galleons."
"Oh, he could complain," said Nico, "it just wouldn't be rational to do so."
Hermione pressed her lips together, looking angry and disapproving, but was distracted by a third owl landing in front of her carrying a copy of the Daily Prophet. She unfolded it hastily and scanned the front page.
"Anyone we know dead?" quipped Nico - Ron posed the same question every time Hermione opened her paper.
"No," said Hermione, focusing on Ron instead of Nico, "but there have been more Dementor attacks. And one arrest."
"Excellent," said Harry. "Who?"
He crossed his fingers, hoping it was Bellatrix Lestrange.
"Stan Shunspike," said Nico, leaning his chin on Hermione's shoulder so as to read the paper. He always did this; his reasoning was that it annoyed her, and so was somehow a productive use of his time.
Hermione scowled at him and shrugged the shoulder his chin was on.
"What?" said Harry, startled.
'Stan?' asked James. 'Stan Shunspike? That pimply conductor on the Knight Bus we found bragging that he was going to be Minister of Magic to a couple of French girls? You know, when we were at the Quidditch World Cup?'
'I think so!'
"'Stanley Shunspike, conductor on the popular wizarding conveyance the Knight Bus -'"
"Why do they call it 'wizarding'?" asked Nico. "Makes it seem like women can't ride it."
They shushed him.
"' - has been arrested on suspicion of Death Eater activity. Mr Shunspike, 21, was taken into custody late last night after a raid on his Clapham home ...'"
'This is ridiculous,' scoffed Tom. 'Stan Shunspike, a Death Eater? Boy doesn't look like he could tie his own shoes!'
'But he's older than you,' said Andy.
'You are missing the point.'
"No way," said Harry.
"He might have been under the Imperius Curse," said Ron reasonably. "You can never tell."
"Actually," said Nico, "any halfway-decent Legillimens can tell you whether or not someone's under the Imperius Curse. Besides-" he scanned the paper, resting his chin on Hermione's shoulder again, causing her to scowl "- doesn't look like it. Says here he was arrested after being overheard talking about Death Eater's secret plans in a pub."
"If he was under the Imperius Curse, he'd hardly stand around gossiping about their plans, would he?" said Hermione.
"Well," mused Nico, "it's possible it was staged by the Death Eaters as a fear tactic. You know, 'The guy who was the conductor on the bus you took for years was a Death Eater and you never knew. Who else might be?' Or maybe Stan was under the Imperius Curse and managed to break it momentarily. Always consider all the possibilities."
"He could have just been trying to make out he knew more than he did," said Ron. "Isn't he the one who claimed he was going to become Minister for Magic when he was trying to chat up those Veela?"
"Yeah, that's him," said Harry. "I dunno what they're playing at, taking Stan seriously."
"They just want to look as though they're doing something," said Nico disdainfully.
"People are terrified," said Hermione, frowning. "You know the Patil twins' parents want them to go home? And Eloise Midgeon has already been withdrawn. Her father picked her up last night."
"What?" said Ron, goggling at Hermione. "But Hogwarts is safer than their homes, bound to be! We've got Aurors, and all those extra protective spells, and we've got Dumbledore!"
"Dumbledore cares very little for the safety of the majority of students at this school, Ron," Nico reminded him. "He's put them in danger year after year, even since before your first. Plus, people have lost faith in the Aurors, what with all of the attacks and so few arrests happening. As for the wards ... Tom Riddle was infamous for being able to bring down any wards you put in his way, given enough time. The way people see it, when Tom Riddle inevitably tries to breach Hogwarts - and it is inevitable - at least their kids won't be there to be harmed. Besides," he glanced up at the staff table, "haven't you noticed? Dumbledore isn't around as much as he used to be. His seat's been empty almost as much as Hagrid's lately."
They followed his glance up at the staff table. The Headmaster's chair was indeed empty. Now that Harry thought about it, he hadn't see good ole Dumbles since their private lesson a week ago.
"I think he's left the school to do something with the Order," said Hermione in a low voice. "I mean ... it's all looking very serious, isn't it?"
The other three didn't answer, but Harry knew that they were all thinking the same thing. There had been a horrible incident the day before, when Hannah Abbott had been taken out of Herbology to be told her mother had been found dead. Harry hadn't seen Hannah since, although he knew Nico had been to talk to her. Since Nico helped her with her Defence homework, the two had become friends of a kind. Apparently, her father intended to withdraw her from Hogwarts.
*When they left the Gryffindor table five minutes later to head down to the Quidditch pitch, they passed Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. Remembering what Hermione had said about the Patil twins parents wanting them to leave Hogwarts, Harry was unsurprised to see that the two best friends were whispering together, looking distressed. What did surprise him was that when Ron drew level with them, Parvati suddenly nudged Lavender, who looked round and gave Ron a wide smile. Ron blinked at her, then returned the smile uncertainly. His walk instantly became more like a strut. Harry resisted the temptation to laugh, remembering that Ron had refrained from doing so after Malfoy had broken Harry's nose; Hermione, however, looked cold and distant all the way down to the stadium through the cool, misty drizzle, and departed to find a place in the stands without wishing Ron good luck.*
Nico chuckled and pulled his coat closer around him.
Harry said, "It's not even that cold. Why do you need a coat?"
"I grew up in Vegas," Nico reminded him. "The temperature there falls below zero centigrade maybe once every ten years. I am not used to the cold."
"Wimp," Harry teased.
"You say that, but I'd cope better in the desert than you."
"But we aren't in a desert."
"Just because you aren't in one now doesn't mean you never will be."
"Point taken," Harry acknowledged. "You trying out?"
"Nope," said Nico, popping the 'p'. "Flying just ain't my thing."
"You'd be good though!"
"Well if you ever need a reserve, we'll see. Is that alright Harrykins?"
"Fine."
"Bye." He walked off towards the stands.
Harry sighed.
The trials took all morning, as he had anticipated. Half of Gryffindor house seemed to have turned up, from first-years who were nervously clutching a selection of dreadful old school brooms, to seventh-years who towered over the rest looking coolly intimidating. The latter included a large, wire-haired boy Harry recognised immediately from the Hogwarts Express.
"We met on the train, in old Sluggy's compartment," he said confidently, stepping out of the crowd to shake Harry's hand. "Cormac McLaggen, Keeper."
'He expects special treatment,' warned James.
'No doubt,' agreed Tom.
'I don't like him,' said Saul.
Harry grasped his hand and nearly had it crushed. "You didn't try out last year, did you?" he asked conversationally, taking in the sheer breadth of McLaggen and thinking that he could probably block all of the three goalhoops without so moving so much as a metre.
"I was in the hospital wing when they held the trial," said McLaggen, with something of a swagger. "Ate a pound of Doxy eggs for a bet."
"Ooh," Harry winced. "That can't have been fun."
"Not in the slightest."
"So," Harry put on a curious expression, "what do Doxy eggs taste like?"
"Horrible."
Harry laughed. "Well, I'm sorry to cut this short, but I need to start the trials out now. Is that okay?"
McLaggen's face flashed momentarily with annoyance.
'Yeah,' said Tom. 'He definitely expects special treatment.'
"Sure," said McLaggen. "Where do I wait?"
"Over there, if that's okay." He pointed over to the edge of the pitch, close to where Hermione and Nico looked to be arguing again. Nothing out of the ordinary there.
"Keepers are being tried out last, so you may be waiting a while. Do you have anything you really need to do?"
"Nope, I'm cool."
"Okay," said Harry. "It was nice talking to you Cormac. See you at Old Sluggy's sometime?"
"See you there."
"Bye."
'Nicely done,' said James. 'Very diplomatic.'
'I try.'
*Harry decided to start with a basic test, asking all applicants for the team to divide into groups of ten and fly once around the pitch. This was a good decision: the first ten was made up of first-years and it could not have been plainer that they had hardly ever flown before. Only one boy managed to stay airborne for more than five seconds, and he was so surprised he promptly crashed into one of the goalposts.
The second group comprised ten of the silliest girls Harry had ever encountered, who, when he blew his whistle, merely fell about giggling and clutching each other. Romilda Vane was amongst them.*
'I swear,' said Tom, 'that that girl is going to grow up to be a streetwalker. I swear.'
Harry resisted the urge to snort.
He told them to get off the pitch. They did so quite cheerfully and went to sit in the stands and heckle everyone else.
The third group had a pile up halfway around the pitch.
Most of the fourth had no broomsticks.
The fifth were Hufflepuffs.
Harry took a deep breath. "Alright!" he shouted in an authoritative voice he'd managed to pick up from Percy over the holidays. "Who here isn't from Gryffindor? Get out!"
A couple of small Ravenclaws went sprinting off the pitch, snorting with laughter.
"Who doesn't have a broom? Leave. NOW!"
A few others left.
"If there's anyone here just to cause trouble: GET THE HELL OUT OF MY SIGHT!"
A few others squeaked and left.
Harry took a deep breath. "To all who remain, can we please be mature, and not cause trouble for the sake of trouble? Please?"
After two hours, many complaints, several tantrums (one of which involved a crashed Comet Two Sixty), several broken teeth, and Nico bringing a frustrated Harry an aspirin, Harry had found himself three Chasers: Katie Bell, returned to the team after an excellent trial, a new find called Demelza Robins, who was particularly good at dodging Bludgers, and Ginny Weasley, who had outflown all the competition and scored seventeen goals to boot.
Harry was very pleased with his choices, though he had shouted himself hoarse at the many complainers and was currently enduring a similar argument with the rejected Beaters.
"Well this looks fun," said an amused voice behind him.
Harry turned and looked up at Nico (given he was nearly three inches taller than Harry's 5'10**) and sighed. "What do you want, Nico?"
"Well someone's in a foul mood," said Nico, quirking an eyebrow. "I merely came to offer you some hot chocolate."
He held out the Thermos.
Harry deflated. "Thanks, mate."
"Par de problème."
Harry took a sip, and his eyes widened comically.
"This is really nice hot chocolate," he said.
"There's a lot of cinnamon. That's about all that makes it special. Anyway, have fun."
He walked back towards the stands.
Harry turned back to the rejected Beaters. "Go away. Just, go away. Shouting at me isn't going to help you; all it tells me is that you are too immature to admit when you've been bettered and I don't want people like that on my team. You can go now."
*Neither of his chosen Beaters held any of the old brilliance of Fred and George, but he was still reasonably pleased with them: Jimmy Peaks, a short but broad-chested third-year who had managed to raise a lump the size of an egg on the back of Harry's head with a ferociously hit Bludger, and Ritchie Coote, who looked weedy but aimed well. They now joined Katie, Demelza and Ginny in the stands to watch the selection of their last team member.
Harry had deliberately left the trials of the Keepers until last, hoping for an emptier stadium and less pressure on all concerned. Unfortunately, however, all the rejected players and a number of people who had come down to watch after a lengthy breakfast had joined the crowd by now, so that it was larger than ever. As each Keeper flew up to the goalhoops, the crowd roared and jeered in equal measure. Harry glanced over at Ron, who had always had a problem with nerves; Harry had hoped that winning their final match last term might have cured it, but apparently not; Ron was a delicate shade of green.*
By the third applicant, Harry flew up and cast a Sonorous charm.
"Enough!" he shouted, even with the charm. "This is an important time, okay? I don't care if you cheer, but please don't jeer at them. Just because you weren't given a place on the team, doesn't mean you have to jeopardise everyone else's chances. You have made this morning unbelievably stressful and I am at the end of my tether. So shut up, or get your backsides out of the stadium!"
He flew back down and continued with the trials.
The next two hopefuls were slightly better than the first three; be it because of the crowd being nicer or just naturally Harry wasn't sure, but it helped to relieve him of his dreadful migraine. They still didn't save more than three, though.
To Harry's great disappointment, Cormac McLaggen saved four penalties out of five. On the last one, however, he shot off completely in the wrong direction; the crowd laughed and booed and McLaggen returned to the ground grinding his teeth.
Harry made a show of getting the crowd to calm down, even though he himself found it slightly amusing.
*Ron looked ready to pass out as he mounted his Cleansweep Eleven.
"Good luck!" cried a voice from the stands. Harry looked around, expecting to see Hermione, but it was Lavender Brown. He would have quite liked to have hidden his face in his hands, as she did a moment later, but thought that as Captain he ought to show slightly more grit, and so turned to watch Ron do his trial.
Yet he need not have worried: Ron saved one, two, three, four, five penalties in a row. Delighted, and resisting joining in the cheer of the crowd* (although he did clap politely) with difficulty, Harry turned to McLaggen to tell him that, most unfortunately, Ron had beaten him.
Only McLaggen's red face was mere inches from his own. He stepped back hastily.
"His sister didn't really," said McLaggen menacingly. There was a vein pulsing in his temple like the one Harry had often admired in Uncle Vernon's. "She gave him an easy save."
'James, James, what do I say?' asked Harry, panicking.
'Calm down,' said James. 'Leave it to me.'
"Cormac, can we please be rational," said James calmly, placing a hand on McLaggen's shoulder. "First off, Ginny's shot was the one Ron nearly missed. It wasn't easy to save. Second, even if it was, what can I do? Say it didn't count? There'd be outrage! Make them all repeat? That'd just be hell for everyone. I can't choose you anyway, because then I'd look favouritist. Right now, there's nothing much I can do. We'll just have to put up with him until he has a really bad match. Then I'll kick him off and we can hold new trials. Okay?"
For a moment, both Harry and James thought they were going to get punched. Then McLaggen just took a deep breath, but he contented himself with a grimace. "I suppose you're right."
"Exactly," said James. "Have a good day, Cormac. I'll see you at Old Sluggy's at some point, alright?"
"Yeah," said McLaggen. "I'll see you then."
He stormed off.
'Thanks James,' said Harry.
'No problem,' replied James.
Harry turned around to find his new team beaming at him.
"Well done," he croaked. "You flew really well -"
"You did brilliantly, Ron!"
This time it really was Hermione running toward them from the stands, closely followed by Nico. Harry saw Lavender walking off the pitch, arm in arm with Parvati, and a rather grumpy expression on her face. Ron looked extremely pleased with himself and even taller than usual as he grinned around at the team and at Hermione.
*After fixing the time of their first full practice for the following Thursday, Harry, Ron, and Hermione bade goodbye to the rest of them and headed off towards Hagrid's. A watery sun was trying to break through the clouds now and it had stopped drizzling at last. Harry felt extremely hungry; he hoped there would be something to eat at Hagrid's.
"I thought I was going to miss that fourth penalty," Ron was saying happily. "Tricky shot from Demelza, did you see, had a bit of a spin on it -"
"Yes, yes, you were magnificent," said Hermione, looking amused.*
'Dear God he's such a peacock,' said Tom disdainfully.
'True dat,' said Jude.
'Hang on,' said Harry, 'since when were you two back on speaking terms?'
'Since right now.'
'Glad you let me in on that.'
*"I was better than that McLaggen anyway," said Ron in a highly satisfied voice. "Did you see him lumbering off in the wrong direction on his fifth? Looked like he'd been Confunded ..."
To Harry's surprise, Hermione turned a very deep shade of pink at these words. Ron noticed nothing; he was too busy describing each of his other penalties in loving detail.*
'Dear God man just shut up,' grouched Saul. 'We don't care about it, and we certainly don't need to hear you brag about it. We were right there, arsehole.'
'Agreed,' said every other voice bar Andy.
'It's not that bad!' he said cheerfully.
'Yes,' said James. 'It is.'
'Okay. Maybe it's that bad. Maybe.'
Harry resisted the urge to laugh.
Nico was petting Buckbeak, the great grey Hippogriff, who was tethered in front of Hagrid's cabin. Almost as though through previous agreement, Nico and Buckbeak turned to look at the trio in sync. Nico raised two fingers to his temple and away to salute them while scratching Buckbeak behind his wings with the other hand. Buckbeak clicked his razor-sharp beak at their approach.
"'Sup?" said Nico.
"Nothin' much," replied Harry, as Hermione said nervously, "Oh dear. He's still a bit scary, isn't he?"
"Come of it, you've ridden him, haven't you?" said Ron.
Harry stepped forward and bowed low to the Hippogriff without breaking eye contact or blinking. After a few seconds, Buckbeak returned the gesture.
"How are ya?" Harry asked him in a soft voice, moving forward to stroke Buckbeak's feathery head. "Missing him? But you're okay here with Hagrid, aren't you?"
"Oi!" said a loud voice.
Hagrid had come striding round the corner of his cabin wearing a large flowery apron and carrying a sack of potatoes. His enormous boarhound, Fang, was at his heel; Fang gave a booming bark and bounded forwards.
"Git away from him! He'll have yer fingers - oh. It's yeh lot."
"Hey Hagrid," said Nico from the right of Buckbeak. "Is he doing alright?"
"Nah," said Hagrid. "Only gettin' worse, I'm afraid."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Nico replied sincerely. "What's the lesson plan for Monday?"
"I was thinkin' we could go inter the forest an' check on him."
"Sounds good. Should I tell Tracey? So she knows to be prepared?"
"Yeh probably should, yeah."
"Alright then."
Harry was very confused at who this 'he' was, but he was even more upset that Hagrid was ignoring them.
"Hagrid -" he started.
"Would yeh like ter come inside, Nico?" asked Hagrid, still ignoring him.
Nico smiled. "I'd very much appreciate that, thank you Hagrid."
"Come on then."
They walked inside, still talking, although Nico caught Harry's eye and made a slight 'come on' gesture.
As soon as Hagrid went inside, the door was slammed shut.
"Oh dear," said Hermione, looking stricken.
"Don't worry about it," said Harry grimly.
'Blast open the door!' said Jude.
'Scare them all!' said Tom.
'I hate everyone!' said Saul.
He walked over to the door and knocked loudly. He could hear Nico talking inside - something about forgiveness, which was oh so ironic - but didn't care much at this particular moment.
"Hagrid! Open up, we want to talk to you!"
Nico's voice rose slightly.
"What's the worst that could happen?" Harry just about made out.
*"If you don't open this door, we'll blast it open!" Harry said, pulling out his wand.
"Harry!" said Hermione, sounding shocked. "You can't possibly -"
"Yeah, I can!" said Harry. "Stand back -"*
But before he could say anything else, the door flew open again as Harry - or rather Tom, from whom the suggestion had come from - had known it would, and there stood Hagrid, glowering down at him and looking, despite the flowery pinny, positively alarming.
Tom could just spot Nico at the table looking thoroughly amused, legs resting on the table.
"I'm a teacher!" Hagrid roared at him. "A teacher, Potter! How dare yeh threaten ter break down my door!"
"I'm sorry, sir," said Tom, emphasising the last word as he stowed his wand inside his robes.
Hagrid looked stunned.
"Since when have yeh called me 'sir'?"
"Since when have you called me 'Potter'?"
"He has a point, Hagrid," said Nico.
*"Oh very clever," growled Hagrid. "Very amusin'. That's me outsmarted, innit? Alrigh', come in then, yeh ungrateful little ..."
Mumbling darkly, he stood back to let them pass. Hermione scurried in after Harry, looking rather frightened.
"Well?" said Hagrid grumpily, as Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down around his enormous wooden table*. Fang jumped almost immediately onto Harry's lap, laying his drooling head on Nico's slightly raised ones.
"Feet off the table," Harry said to Nico instead.
Nico raised an eyebrow at him and pointedly crossed his legs at the ankle.
Harry sighed.
"What's this?" Hagrid continued. "Feelin' sorry for me? Reckon I'm lonely or summat?"
"No," said Harry at once. "We wanted to see you."
"We've missed you!" said Hermione tremulously.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry noticed Nico smirk in an 'I told you so' kind of way.
"Missed me, have yeh?" snorted Hagrid. "Yeah. Righ'."
He stomped around, brewing up tea in his enormous copper kettle, muttering all the while. Finally he slammed down four bucket sized mugs of mahogany-brown tea in front of them and a plate of his rock cakes. Harry was hungry enough even for Hagrid's cooking, and took one at once.
Nico, being a stereotypical American, wasn't very fond of hot tea, and was surreptitiously letting Fang drink it instead - an impressive feat, seeing as all Fang seemed to want to do was knock it over.
"Hagrid," said Hermione timidly, when he joined them at the table and started peeling potatoes his with a brutality that suggested that each tuber had done him a great personal wrong, "we really wanted to carry on with Care of Magical Creatures, you know."
"Tha's what he said," Hagrid grunted, jerking his head towards Nico.
"Well then he heard correctly," said Hermione.
"'He' is right here," muttered Nico, scratching Fang behind the ears.
"We couldn't fit it into our timetables!"
There was a funny squelching sound and they all looked around: Hermione let out a tiny shriek and Ron leapt out of his seat and hurried around the table away from the large barrel standing in the corner that they had only just noticed. It was full of what looked like foot-long maggots; slimy, white and writhing.
"What're they, Hagrid?" asked Harry, trying to sound interested rather than revolted, but putting down his rock cake all the same.
"Giant grubs," chirped Nico, getting up from the table and walking towards it.
"And they grow into ...?" said Ron, looking apprehensive.
"They won' grow inter nuthin'," said Hagrid.
Nico picked one up and pulled it out of the barrel.
"Why?" he asked Ron, smirking maliciously. "Scared, Ron? Scared of a teeny-weeny grubby-wubby?"
"No!" Ron denied vehemently. "I just don't go about picking up giant maggots!"
Nico shrugged. "Whatever. Want it, Fang?"
Fang barked and placed his paws on Nico's knees, looking up at him with big brown eyes.
Nico threw the grub so that it landed at the base of Hermione's chair, Fang bounding after it.
Hermione shrieked louder.
"They're for Aragog," said Nico, as though he hadn't just scared a teenage girl shitless.
And without warning, Hagrid burst into tears.
Nico quickly hurried over to him and put an arms around his shoulders.
Harry frowned. "What's the matter with Aragog?"
Hagrid gulped, beetle-black eyes streaming as he mopped his face with his apron. "I think he's dyin' ... he got ill over the summer an' he's not gettin' better ... I don' know what I'll do if he ... if he ... we've bin tergether so long ..."
"Tracey, me and a few seventh-years are helping him with Aragog a few times a week, in lessons and out," said Nico, patting Hagrid's shoulder. "It's not looking really good, especially with the colony."
Hermione went around the table the long way, avoiding the grubs, and gave Hagrid a hug, looking at a complete loss of what to say. *Harry knew how she felt. He had known Hagrid to present a vicious baby dragon with a teddy bear, seen him croon over giant scorpions with suckers and stings, attempt to reason with his brutal giant of a half-brother, but this was perhaps the most incomprehensible of all his monster fancies: the gigantic talking spider, Aragog, that dwelled deep in the Forbidden Forest and which he and Ron had only narrowly escaped from four years previously.
"Is there - is there anything we can do?" Hermione asked, ignoring Ron's frantic grimaces and head-shakings.
"I don' think there is, Hermione," chocked Hagrid, attempting to stem the flood of tears. "See, the rest o' the tribe ... Aragog's family ... they're gettin' a bit funny now he's ill ... bit restive ..."
"Yeah, I think we saw a bit of that side of them," said Ron in an undertone.*
"... I don' reckon it'd be safe fer anyone but me and me sixth- and seventh-years to go near the colony at the mo'," Hagrid finished. "Even then, they don' really like it unless Nico's there."
Nico waved. "Hi."
"Why do they like you?" asked Hermione. "Just curious, why do they like you?"
"Giant, monstrous spiders just love me, 'Mione," said Nico cockily. "Basically, I bring them food and I show respect. That's really all that's necessary."
Hagrid said,"*Thanks fer offerin', Hermione ... it means a lot ..."
After that the atmosphere lightened considerably, for although neither Harry nor Ron had shown any inclination to go and feed giant grubs to a murderous, gargantuan spider, Hagrid seemed to have taken it for granted that they would have liked to have done and became his usual self once again.*
"Ar, I always knew you'd find it hard ter squeeze me inter yeh timetables," he said gruffly, pouring more tea, which Nico was quick to decline. "Even if yeh applied fer Time-Turners-"
"We couldn't have done," said Hermione. "We smashed the entire stock of Ministry Time-Turners when we were there in the summer. It was in the Daily Prophet."
"Ar, well then," said Hagrid. "There's no way yeh could've done it ... I'm sorry I've bin - yeh know - I've just bin worried abou' Aragog ... an' I did wonder whether, if Professor Grubbly-Plank had bin teachin' yeh ..."
Before the trio had a chance to categorically and untruthfully state how horrible a teacher Grubbly-Plank was, Nico snorted. "Who wants a teacher who restricts you to Light-only creatures anyway?" he scoffed. "How are you meant to pass, or even survive, your exams if you have no idea how to deal with nature's more deadly side? This discussion isn't even worth having."
They chatted idly for a bit, with Nico and Hagrid having an animated discussion on multiple creatures (it appeared that Nico, too, didn't seem to comprehend the phrase It's dangerous) before the latter waved them off the premises at dusk, looking quite cheerful.
"I - am - starving," said Nico, once the door closed behind them and they were hurrying through the dark and deserted grounds. "I vote that we get food immediately."
"I second the notion," said Harry, mimicking Jude and James.
"You have a detention," Hermione reminded him.
"I know," he said. "But that don't mean I ain't got no time for food."
Nico laughed. "How many negatives did you use in that sentence?"
Harry thought for a moment. "Three, I think."
Nico shook his head. "You've been hanging around me far too much."
Harry laughed.
As they came into the castle they spotted Cormac McLaggen entering the Great Hall. It took him two attempts to get through the doors; he ricocheted off the frame on the first attempt. Ron merely guffawed gloatingly and strode off into the Hall after him, but Harry caught Hermione's arm and held her back.
"What?" said Hermione defensively.
Nico raised an eyebrow and carried on forwards.
"If you ask me," said Harry quietly, once Nico was out of earshot, "McLaggen looks like he was Confunded. And he was standing right in front of where you were sitting."
Hermione blushed.
"Oh, all right then, I did it," she whispered. "But you should have heard the way he was talking about Ron and Ginny! Anyway, he's got a nasty temper, you saw how he reacted when he didn't get in -"
Harry raised his arms in surrender. "I understand that, Hermione, and I'm eternally grateful for it. But wasn't that dishonest, Hermione? I mean, you're a prefect, aren't you?"
"Oh be quiet," she snapped, as he smirked.
"Don't do that," she snapped again.
The smirk fell from his face. "Why not?"
"You look like Nico when you do that."
"And that's a bad thing how?"
Hermione opened her mouth, but she was interrupted.
*"What are you two doing?" demanded Ron, reappearing in the doorway of the Great Hall and looking suspicious.
"Nothing," said Harry and Hermione together, and they hurried after Ron. The smell of roast beef made Harry's stomach ache with hunger, but they had barely taken three steps towards the Gryffindor table when Professor Slughorn appeared in front of them, blocking their path.
"Harry, Harry, just the man I was hoping to see!" he boomed genially, twiddling the end of his walrus moustache and puffing out his enormous belly. "I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper in my rooms instead? We're having a little party, just a few rising stars. I've got McLaggen coming, and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin - I don't know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries* - Nico di Angelo, as I'm sure you're aware, and, of course, I hope very much that Miss Granger will favour me by coming, too."
*Slughorn made Hermione a little bow as he finished speaking. It was as though Ron was not present; Slughorn did not as much as look at him.
"I can't come, Professor," said Harry at once. "I've got a detention with Professor Snape."
"Oh dear!" said Slughorn, his face falling comically. "Dear, dear, I was counting on you, Harry! Well, now, I'll just have to have a word with Severus and explain the situation, I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see you both later!"
He bustled away out of the Hall.
"He's got no chance of persuading Snape," said Harry, the moment Slughorn was out of earshot. "This detention's already been postponed once; Snape did it for Dumbledore, but he won't do it for anyone else.
"Oh, I wish you could come, I don't want to go on my own!" said Hermione anxiously; Harry knew she was thinking about McLaggen.*
"I doubt you'll be alone, Ginny'll probably be invited, and we already know that Nico's going," snapped Ron, who did not seem to have taken kindly to being ignored by Slughorn.
'If he doesn't want to be ignored then he should do something that warrants recognition!' snapped Tom. 'Lazy bastard.'
'I still don't understand why you guys don't like Ron and Hermione,' said Harry.
'They don't seem genuine,' said Tom and James.
'I just don't like them,' said Malcolm.
'They're too sad,' said Andy.
'They don't do anything,' said Jude. 'All they do is complain and make half-arsed attempts at stuff.'
'I hate everyone,' said Saul.
'Whatever.'
After they had finished dinner the three made their way up to the Gryffindor Tower. The common room was very crowded, as most people had finished dinner, but Nico had saved them some seats near the window. Ron, who had been in a bad mood ever since the encounter with Slughorn, folded his arms and frowned at the ceiling. Hermione reached out for a copy of the Evening Prophet that someone had left abandoned on a chair.
Nico smiled slightly. "Did something bad happen that I'm unaware of?"
"Slughorn invited Hermione and me to supper," said Harry. "Ron wasn't."
"Acknowledged," Ron added to the end.
Harry nodded. "That too."
Nico shrugged. "You're one of several hundred that weren't invited, Ron. It's no big deal. Besides, maybe five of us were invited based on talent alone; the rest were just because they were well-connected. The Weasley family isn't well connected, I'm afraid to say. I'm sure it's no personal snub."
Ron cheered up a bit.
Nico got up and sat next to Hermione, placing his chin on her shoulder so he could read the paper. "Anything new?"
Hermione shrugged her shoulder violently. "Not really ..." She continued scanning the inside pages. "Oh, look, your dad's in here, Ron - he's alright!" she added quickly, for Ron had looked around in alarm.
"It just says he's been to the Malfoys'," said Nico, chin on Hermione's shoulder again. "'This second search of the Death Eater's residence does not seem to have yielded any results. Arthur Weasley of the Office for the Detection and ...Confiscation I think that says ... of ... Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects ... Gods damn it that's a long name ... said that his team had been acting on a confidential tip-off.'"
"Yeah, mine!" said Harry. "I told him at Kings' Cross about Malfoy and that thing he was trying to get Borgin to fix! If it's not at his house, he must have brought whatever it is to Hogwarts -"
"Whoa whoa whoa, slow down there Buster, let's not jump to conclusions," said Nico, smiling. "Not all objects that are harmful or Dark are very obvious about it. Similarly, not all Dark objects are harmful. Some things can be slipped through detectors because they either aren't harmful or Dark enough to be picked up by sensors, or they disguise it well. There are bags and such that hide auras; dirt cheap in Knockturn. And it could be at another Death Eater's house - he could have just been running an errand for them. We don't know about this for sure, and to say we do goes further beyond all sense of rationality then the God theory. Let's just keep it real here."
Hermione shrugged her shoulder violently again.
Nico grabbed her arm as though giving her a hug.
Hermione sighed.
Nico laughed. "You're a really comfy pillow you know Granger."
"Shut it, di Angelo."
Harry sighed. Right now, he wasn't sure what he wanted. Did he want Hermione to shut out his suggestions immediately, saying that it was searched? Did he want false comfort? Would it satisfy him, or make him more determined? Even though Nico had said it was possible that Malfoy managed to smuggle something in, did he like that idea? Did he want to be right? Now that he could accept the possibility of it happening, how was he to stop it? If items that stopped all sensory equipment existed, how could he track it? How could he prove it?
'Seems we're in a bit of a muddle here,' said a voice.
'Shut up Jude. Now is not the time.'
'We have time,' said James firmly. We can figure this out.'
'I hope you're right James,' said Harry. 'I really do.'
"Hey Ron?" said Harry. "Do you think -?"
*"Oh, drop it, Harry," said Ron.
"Listen, it's not my fault Slughorn invited Hermione, Nico and me to his stupid party! None of us want to go, you know!" said Harry, firing up.
"Well, as I'm not invited to any parties," said Ron, getting to his feet again, "I think I'll go to bed."
He stomped off towards the door to the boys' dormitories, leaving Harry and Hermione staring after him* (Nico appeared to have fallen asleep after Hermione stopped her futile attempts to get him off her shoulder).
"Well," said Nico, breaking the slightly awkward silence that encompassed the group, "this is fucked up."
'I agree,' said Tom.
'You never don't agree with Nico, Tom,' said James.
'That's 'cause the guy is rational.'
'No, it's 'cause he's just as cynical and evil as you.'
'Oh shut up.'
"Harry?" said the new chaser, Demelza Robins, appearing suddenly at his shoulder. "I've got a message for you."
"From Professor Slughorn?" asked Harry, sitting up hopefully.
Nico lazily opened one eye.
"No ... from Professor Snape," said Demelza. Nico's eye closed again; Harry's heart sank. "He says you're to come to his office at half past eight tonight to do your detention - er - no matter how many party invitations you've received. And he wants you to know you'll be sorting out rotten Flobberworms from good ones, to use in Potions, and - and he says there's no need to bring protective gloves."
Nico laughed. "Sucks to be you, man."
"Right," said Harry grimly. "Thanks, Demelza."
There were times in life when Nico di Angelo wondered what the point of life was.
Then there were times when he thought that is was to make the world a better place than it was when he found it.
Then there were those precious moments he thought it was for the people he loved.
Then there were times when he realised that it was to annoy people. These times were by far his favourite.
Right now, he was pissing off Melinda Bobbins on the topic of God and the existence of the afterlife. It was times like this he was happy to be able to say his atheistic views - people didn't take kindly to it back in America.
"What if you're wrong?" asked Melinda calmly. "You'd've wasted your entire life without worshipping God, and then, come the afterlife, you'd be like 'Oh. Fuck. I was wrong.'"
Ah, Pascal's Wager. Not a bad point. Not as good as some of her previous, though. Then again, those had been some of the best argument he had ever heard for the existence of God, so kudos to her.
"What if you're wrong?" he returned. "What if you've been worshipping the wrong God all this time and pissing off the real one each time you do?"
They continued to debate for a while.
Later, they decided to just call it quits - they weren't going to persuade the other either way.
Hermione sighed. "Ugh."
"There something wrong, Sweetheart?" asked Nico.
"Will you stop with the nicknames?" Hermione hissed.
"Why?" he said, smiling charmingly. "Got a problem with 'em, Sweetie?"
"Yes!"
"What a shame," he said, still smiling. "Most women don't seem to mind it when I call them Sweetheart."
"Most women just want to get into bed with you," she fired back at him.
"Why yes, they do," he replied. "Rest assured, Hon, there will never be a shortage of women to fuck in my life."
Hermione glared at him. "Womaniser!"
"Yeah, no," he said. "I said that I could, not that I would. I have the utmost respect for women and, as I have said to you previously, I have a girlfriend whom I adore. While there may be no shortage of women wanting to sleep with me, doesn't mean I'm automatically going to sleep with them."
Hermione snorted. "I wonder if your girlfriend returns you feelings. She seemed pretty quiet, didn't she? One wonders if it's because she's scared."
Nico outright laughed at that. "Dear God, you really don't know her, do you? Lacy is just about the most strong-willed, independent, intelligent and overall amazing woman you could meet. Her, scared of me? No. I'm scared of her when she's angry, not the other way around. Then again, she's incredibly patient, so it doesn't happen that often."
"She'd have to have the patience of a saint to put up with you."
"Indeed she does. She is by far the most patient person I've ever met - kind of ironic, considering she's a redhead."
Hermione sat back and took a look at him. He still refused to wear robes; instead, he wore a dark shirt, jeans and a leather jacket with a tie. Odd? Yes. Did he look incredibly handsome regardless? Yes.
"What?" he asked, amused. "Do I have something on my face?"
"I wonder why you're so famous," she said quietly.
Nico sat back and looked at her, too. "I wonder why you're still here," he said, equally as low.
"What do you mean by that?"
"The same thing you mean by your question."
"And will you answer my question?"
"Maybe when you answer mine."
"Why do you want to know?"
"Because you fascinate me, Granger," he said.
Hermione cocked her head to the side and raised her eyebrows.
"How did you, a girl with next to nothing, bar maybe a slightly above average intellect, get where you are," he elaborated, leaning forward. "How did such an ordinary person such as yourself become friends with an international celebrity, combat all these things, find out all this information, and yet not realise how valuable her friendships are? How can you have experienced so much, yet not realise the path you are on is the wrong one? How can you continue to betray everything you stand for, yet not realise what you are doing? Tell me, Sweetheart, how are you still alive?" He was so close to her now, she could feel his warm breath on her face.
"Talent," she replied.
He leaned away from her in a self-satisfied manner. "And there's your answer."
"What answer?"
Nico smiled, and turned back to his ice-cream.
Hermione stabbed hers with her spoon, and concluded that Nico di Angelo would one day be the death of her.
"Anything else you've kept from everyone?" murmured Nico out of the corner of his mouth.
"If I've kept it from everyone," she replied, "why would I tell you?"
"Just because you don't tell me, doesn't mean I don't know."
She turned back to him again. "If you know all of this," she said, "why don't you just tell Harry?"
"Because unlike some people," he said, "I care about Harry's feelings -"
Okay. Ouch. That one hit home.
"- and so realise that the betrayal of trust from you and Weasley would crush him. Maybe you can save your friendship; maybe. But the way it's going, I don't think you will. All we can hope for is that Harry doesn't take it as bad as I think he will."
"I think you underestimate him."
"No. I think you expect too much from him. He's a child, Sweetie; we're all children. Children shouldn't fight wars, yet we do. And the fact that we aren't disputing this means that we aren't any better than the enemies we're trying to fight."
"When do you stop being a child?"
The ghost of a smile flickered across his face. "Do we ever?"
* If you're unaware as to what this is, it's making a kind of zero with your hand, then making a wanking gesture. Now you know how to start a fight in a pub, because we Brits do not go to bars. We go to pubs, because we're classy like that.
** Not sure if Harry really is 5 foot 10 inches, but it doesn't specify, so I just guessed. Why 5'10? Because Harry is described as being short but then growing a lot. One concludes he is slightly above average height from that. Average height of an adult male in Britain is 5'9, so Harry is 5'10.
I understand the debate had between Melinda Bobbins and Nico at the end may be a bit touchy, and I mean no offence, but in my mind, Nico is a very philosophical person who enjoys having debates. Melinda Bobbins is a blank slate, so I can do what I want with her character.
I'll be going on holiday today (or yesterday, or last week, or last year, depending on when you read this) so I decided to write a chapter for you. I hope you like it, even though it's not published yet and probably won't be for a while.
Bye!
~ EN.