Chapter 12
What a wonderful morning! I hadn't opened my eyes yet, but the feeling of the lightening of the darkness that you can see when your eyes are closed is one of the most amazing moments of the day. The combination of light and warmth coming from my open bedroom window were a promise of a truly lovely day. Wish I could stay right here with my eyes closed for the rest of it. I did it once, you know—I love following the images you can see on the back of your eyelids when you keep your closed eyes against the light for a while.
No! Need to get up, get dressed, get a little something to eat, and then get working on my body, magic and mind. The first part I don't mind, the second is mostly fun. The third is what I want to actually do with my life. Freshen up, then—
A wave of my wand took the sleep away, another freshened me up. Once I slept over at Ginny's and had to do it all by hand. I just can't understand the Weasleys sometimes. Ginny had nothing to do with it, of course. Neither did her young brothers. It was her parents that I just couldn't understand. Who lives in a magical home without magic? And for that matter, what was this obsession with the poor gnomes? Ever since then I took special care to visit Ginny in daytime only and didn't stay over if I could avoid it. Not that my home was quirk-free.
The kitchen table was already covered with a very diverse breakfast.
"Morning, Dad!"
As usual, there was no answer at all.
"Dad!"
I smiled softly and went around the table to take his newspaper away from him. "Good morning, Dad," I said to him, smiling.
"Oh, morning, yes—good morning. I was so engrossed with the Prophet that I didn't notice you entering the room. Had a good night's sleep?"
"Wonderful night. I was speaking with Mum."
"Did she have anything interesting to say, or was it just female gossip?"
"She asked me to make sure you're having healthy breakfasts." I said, looking pointedly at his plate. This morning he was having hard-boiled eggs, white, low-fat, soft cheese, and some tomatoes and cucumbers and olives. I can't even begin to imagine where he got the taste for that kind of breakfast. I kissed him on his cheek and went on to gather some breakfast for myself too. "Anything interesting foretold in the Prophet?"
"Are you asking seriously? Sometimes I'm not even sure the Prophet's editors live in the same world as us, I can tell you, never mind the same country."
"What did they do now?" I asked.
"They've wasted their whole front page with a story about a group of punks disturbing the Longbottoms. Your friend Potter was there too, it appears. He managed to catch himself a Dementor. I wonder what he's going to do with it. It won't eat much, but it's not very cuddly for a pet, do you think?"
"Was anybody hurt?
"A couple of Muggles, it appears. The Dementor managed to draw one's soul, but the other will be all right in a couple of days."
I let go of the breath when I heard that. Strange, I hadn't noticed that I was holding it.
"Here—have a look!"
Dementors At Night
A group of civilians, led by newly appointed Senior Auror Nymphadora Tonks fought off an attack by a Dementor on the old manor house of the Longbottom family. Also in attendance was Mr. Harry Potter, young head of the Potter house. The Prophet was informed that all members of the Longbottom house are accounted for and well. As far as the Prophet was able to discover, Mr. Potter used the Patronus charm to chase and enclose the attacking Dementor. Senior Auror Kleio Rickard, who was coordinating the Ministry effort at the scene, remarked that there have been no reports of Dementor imprisonment in the last two centuries.
In response to the Prophet's inquiry, Minister Scrimgeour stated that due to the efforts of Mr. Potter and Senior Auror Tonks, the wizarding and general public is now safe from the danger presented by the rogue Dementor. The Minister informed the Prophet that the Dementor was transferred into the hold of the Department of Mysteries for further studies. The Minister further remarked that the Ministry sees the incident as proof that he made the right choice in promoting young Auror Tonks into the position of Senior Auror and entrusting her with the training and leadership of a new squad of Aurors.
We at the Prophet gladly join the Minister in extending our congratulations to the young Senior Auror. Our sister magazine Play Wizard will run a special photographed interview with the newly appointed Senior Auror, who has raised the interest of so many of our readers.
Tonks is certain to like that, I thought, smiling as several possible responses came to my mind. I think I'm going to like it. I'll just have to find a way to be at the Prophet's offices when she visits them next.
"Utter rubbish as always," I reassured Pop. "When did you put the paper to bed last night?"
"'Bout midnight," he said, looking interestedly at the paper-rug in front of him.
"What did the Cuckoo show 'bout midnight', then?"
"'Bout half three."
"Keep an eye on your dad for me," Mum has said to me so many times since she died. "See that he sleeps, try to make him eat more than he drinks, and please keep an eye on his work whenever you fail to do the former." I really do my best—well, I do try...
"What did you put on the front page?"
"Pushmi-pullyu," he said in between bites. "Allan just came back from central Africa with those wonderful pictures. I just had to give it its due place." Saying that, he took out an envelope and tossed it to me. Inside were a couple of blurry magical photos, taken from a very long distance, of what looked like a pair of antelopes standing side by side, facing in opposing directions, eating grass. The angle from which the photos were taken showed only the head of the more distant animal.
"Where did you hear of this wonderful animal?" I asked. Later on I'd have to have a quiet word with Allan. I don't mind him taking Father's money, same as I don't mind Father taking his readers' money, but this was just ridiculous.
"I'm not really sure," he said with a full mouth. "I think I read something about it in a book about a Muggle doctor long time ago. These Muggles sometimes stumble onto the most incredible creatures."
I nodded silently, taking another sip of my usual spinach-juice breakfast. "Anything else of interest in the Quibbler?" I asked.
"Oh, nothing to compete with these amazing creatures. The usual, you know—Dark conspiracies in the Ministry, incompetence at St. Mungo's, and sighting of a god in London. This last one might be interesting—it's the first god sighting in a very long time, but it's a bit skimpy on details. I think I'll send Allen to London to try to get some pictures for me. Then I'll be able to run it as a cover story."
"I think I'll have something for tomorrow's paper by the evening, Dad."
"Oh, from that lovely man of yours?"
"From Harry, yes. He is lovely, and a man, but he's not mine and I don't think he will ever be," I answered. These ideas must be nipped in the bud. I don't need that story printed in the Quibbler, do I? "There's another man I just might try to make mine, if you insist on knowing," I added. You should always try to preserve the mystery with my dad. It keeps him away from the truth.
"Is it that young Ronald, the neighbour's son?"
"Merlin, Daddy, no! I got over him ages ago. I just don't know what I was thinking!" Probably not thinking at all, I answered myself in my mind.
"Good, good! I just hope this mysterious young man has a little deeper intellect."
"Oh, Ronald isn't stupid, Dad. He's just too lazy to put his mind to anything useful, never mind thinking about what he's about to say, a moment before he says it..."
"Well, have a good day."
"You too, Daddy. Try to get some sleep, and please try to stick with coffee and pumpkin juice—until noon at the least."
"My own daughter!" he said in cute mock-hurt. "I haven't had more than a thimbleful past my lips since yesterday morning, I'll have you know, and may lightning strike me here and now if I'm lying!"
"I know your thimble, daddy," I answered, smiling. We've had this "talk" almost every morning since Mum died. "You must have received it from Hagrid's mum," I added and went back to my room to get ready for the day. Walking up the stairs, I could hear Dad's incoherent mumbling, which sounded suspiciously like "No shame, no shame at all!"
No reason to be ashamed, I thought to myself as I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself in my new Dragon-hide armour suit. Dad took me once to a beach in the south of France to look for the legendary Leviathan in the Mediterranean Sea. We didn't find any Leviathan back then, but I remember the surfers. They were wearing those long full-body suits which hugged their bodies and left very little to my young and capable imagination. Dragon-hide armour was a little like that, but thinner and lighter. Sometimes Dragon-hide amazes me; I can understand its being spell-repellent, since it's so inherently magical, but it looks like you can poke a hole through it with a toothpick.
I stood in front of the full-length mirror and hummed to myself, smiling. I was certainly no Fleur, but otherwise I had nothing to be ashamed of, and my body was in better shape than all of the others except for Hermione, though Ginny and Su were catching up nicely.
I kept humming contentedly until I noticed what I was humming.
Sod it! Not that cursed song again! I'd been stuck with it for a year now and couldn't get it out of my poor mind. Well, Weasley was certainly not my king; one has to admit, though, that the Slytherins are more capable in their song-writing than one would expect. What did I ever see in that guy? Even if he does have that nice arse of his. Nothing in comparison to Neville's, of course. I like running behind him when he wears his tights, and looking without him noticing. Maybe today I'll run just in front of him and make him notice, for a change.
With a smile, I slipped my wand into the appropriate holster on the armour's left sleeve. It had so many built-in holsters—one in each sleeve, one on the inside of each leg, one on each hip—and my favourite, the one over the small of my back. Shorts and jersey (that young Beckham had a very nice arse too), trainers—I took one last look in the mirror, pulled on my robes on top of it all, and Disapparated.
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"Last night wasn't all fun and games?"
Neville gave me a look which meant, "Did you have to bring that up again?"
"No, then?"
"It wasn't fun for anyone, I think, and luckily that includes the Death Eaters. I just know they're going to come after Gran and me for vengeance."
"Gran?"
"Yep. Somehow, something changed last night."
"You're going into hiding?"
"I'm mostly hiding anyway. Gran refuses. She said she's openly opposed You-Know-Who ever since he came along and she isn't going to change now. Then she said that if all those who opposed him, from the Ministry and the Wizengamot, went into hiding, he would be certain to win. I can't fault her logic, but it doesn't make me feel better."
I nodded and took his hand to comfort him, a bit surprised at myself. Last year I could never have done that. Good thing, too, since last year it would have been Ronald's hand… for a moment I felt a shudder run down my spine. Neville felt it too.
"Are you all right?" he said, looking at me curiously.
He's so sweet! He worries about me! "Certainly, Neville. Just wee bit nippy."
Actually, I can understand him completely. It's the same with me and Pop lately. A couple of years ago we had the best hiding place. No one was interested in our "loony" family, but ever since I became Harry's friend and Dad made the Quibbler Harry's voice we had become very interesting targets. I've put our home under the Fidelius, but Pop is usually at work all night and has no concept of security.
"Well, have a wonderful day. I'm going to play with Ginny upstairs."
Ginny disappeared from our company as soon as Harry and Bill managed to shut Ronald up, not that I can't understand her. What a horrible family. I used to envy her, you know. She seemed to have this loving family and all those brothers to help her, or so I thought. And she had her mother to love her and to take care of her. I know so much better now! A loving family—ha! Every one of them had to fight for his own survival, to find his own place.
Bill had it relatively easy, I think. He is a fairly powerful wizard, and quite brilliant in his upper storey. He was also the first of the Weasley offspring, so he had less working against him. They had more money to support him too, back then.
Charlie had it worse. He actually had to give up a professional, probably international Quidditch career to run away from her. Actually, as far as I could learn from the Weasley kids, he never had a chance at that career. Molly had it all figured out for him: he was going to be a secretary in the Ministry. She didn't even let him watch Quidditch games. Finally he just chose his place in life by how much distance there was between his place of work and the Burrow. He wasn't good enough academically to go to Egypt like his brother, so he had to make do with Romania and the Dragons.
Percy was Molly's star—Prefect, Head Boy, academic wonder; he went straight from school into a promising position in the Ministry, only to discover that, in order to succeed, he needed not only to fight his siblings at home but to avoid being associated with the "Weasley clan". Ginny didn't talk to me for a week when I suggested that Percy deserved better support from the other Weasley kids. Sure, he was a stuck-up quill-pusher, and so overwhelmed with Ministry politics that for a while he couldn't see what was going on right under his nose, but the fact that the Director found Dragon droppings there - under his nose—droppings which had been sent to him by his own brothers—wasn't helping at all. I'm not a bit surprised that he didn't want to be called "Weasley" at work. I'm sure his father's image at the Ministry gives Percy no incentive to be associated with him, but we'll get to that later.
The twins are The Twins. I have nothing to say about them but the fact that they are brilliant and hilarious; but they, too, never lifted a finger to help their sibling.
Then there's was Ronald. Where his older brothers fought with everything they had to break free and build a life outside the sphere of their family's doubtful influence, Ronald did nothing but grumble and whine, and allow jealousy to fester in him. Yes, and he did try to stress the fact that he wasn't the last, nor the least of the Weasleys.
The last he wasn't. But the least?
Ronald took special care to remind Ginny at every opportunity that she was the baby Weasley, not to mention a girl, and had nothing to do with the "old boys". She was so desperate for a listening ear by the time she came to Hogwarts that she ended up "corresponding" with Riddle. After a whole year, alone at home with Molly, I too would have been ready to correspond with anyone willing to listen.
Ginny is the most a Weasley can aspire to be. First, she is a seventh-born, which makes her special. Then she had six older brothers from whose mistakes to learn, and learn she did. She is as beautiful and friendly and easy-going as she can be—so much so that people tend to forget there is a lot of wisdom behind her smile, certainly a lot of magic behind her wand, and an inner resolve made of steel. Hell, she fought Tom out of her mind once! I know of only two others who have ever done the same. If only she'd had someone to talk to and ask for help back then.
Sadly, I wasn't there for her. Sure, I have my excuses. I had a very hard time when I came to school. I was "Loony" from the minute my year- and Housemates first saw me; I can't even tell why. Maybe it was my father and the Quibbler. It is quite ridiculous at times. I can still remember the time when Dad did a special edition stating that the Ministry helps the Muggles breed eagles and demons to turn them into transportation birds.
"What's so funny?"
Oh, Su was just behind me. "Nothing, Su. I was just thinking about Aerogusions."
I watched as a quizzical look came to Su's face. She was obviously trying to think of something to say that wouldn't sound rude, then reconsidered, shrugged and said, "Great, Luna. Have a nice day," as she turned around and walked toward Remus, shaking her head.
Damn! I had no reason at all to do that. Am I so set in my ways that I can't stop being "Loony" by now?
Was it the necklace of butterbeer corks? It is a strange thing to wear, I admit, but it was the last thing Mum did with me. It took me almost a year to fully become "Loony Lovegood"—sure, I know they call me "Loony" behind my back. Some, I thought, looking at Ronald, don't even wait for me to turn my back. I've always been a bit standoffish; I just had to build on that a little, and my father's paper gave me plenty of material to work with. Crumple-Horned Snorkacks? Wherever did he come up with that one? And to think that it turned out to be a real beast! Developing thick skin was harder. I'm still working on that one.
"Are you going to try the thing we talked about?"
Hermione raised her eyes and smiled widely when she saw me. At least she's flexible enough to see past first impressions and public opinion. This is actually unfair of me. Hermione has never bowed to the public ideas of right and wrong, nor to common points of view, but I must admit to being surprised when she admitted her mistake and asked for my forgiveness. Hermione is really nice, you know. She was never mean to me, nor to anyone else at school. Well, she did hit Malfoy in the face once, but in his case it was better than he deserved. She's never approved of my "Loonyness", but considering that most of what I used to say was utter bollocks...
"Do you think we're ready?"
That again. If we waited until Hermione thought we were ready, we'd all be doomed to wait forever. "We have nothing to be ready for. Just ask him to do something weird and we'll see what happens."
Hermione looked at me and nodded. "I'll take him to the training room as soon as he cools down a little. We don't need him to blow up the room, do we?"
She does have a devious side, our studious girl.
"Right, I'll go play with Ginny and wait for you there."
Upstairs, Ginny was busying her self with sending Reductos at a target that had Ronald's face printed on it. Her accuracy marks were higher than ever. I watched her for a couple of minutes; then, not wanting to fall behind in our little friendly game, I pointed at my target to print an image of an unidentifiable creature and started sending some magic at it. I doubt that I stand a chance this morning, though. Emotions are an important part of our magic, even though they tend to make our magic unpredictable. I use a charm that causes roses to grow on the face of whoever is hit by it. I'm not sure it would be that effective in battle, but the charm's magic has a nice lavender-lime tint to it.
Some fifteen minutes later Hermione entered the training room with Harry and all of the others in tow. Ow, yes! Let the games begin! Right, you don't know what it's all about. Please let me explain so you'll be able to enjoy the show.
A few days ago, Hermione hit, by chance, on the right book. Some will argue that there's no such thing as a "wrong" book for our dear, lovely Hermione, and they would be mostly correct, but this specific book—
We were browsing the Ravenclaw library, looking especially for books about ancient magic and politics and specifically books by the founders of Hogwarts. It was then that Hermione came upon a book that goes by the name The Essence of Magic. The book was written by Helga Hufflepuff. Now, most modern wizards—and I use the word "modern" loosely—believe that Rowena Ravenclaw was the studious one among the founders. Hermione and I, after days of reading, discovered that the real scholar among the founders was Ms. Hufflepuff. Not only that, but she was also the magically strongest of the four, and the only one who had any kind of reasonable money to her name. Helga asked Rowena Ravenclaw to be her partner since Rowena was her best friend; Lord Slytherin, because she was in love with him and he had contacts with the royal family and was able to acquire the land for them; and Gryffindor was invited since it was easier to work with the ponce than work their way around him. That, and that Rowena had found him to be fanciable, with his sword and hat, at the time.
Where was I? Yes. That book was right for Hermione since it taught her two important lessons. The first lesson was that not everything written in the last edition of Hogwarts, A History was Merlin's spoken words. The more important lesson was that it was Helga's opinion that the "rules" of magic were made to be bent. Helga Hufflepuff was an immensely capable (she had issues with the term "powerful", but we couldn't understand what they were) witch and was self-educated. As such she came to discover that she had ways to get around a few of the "rules" that the others saw as immutable. The book Hermione had found contained Helga Hufflepuff's research into ways to bend or bypass what we usually call "The Basic Rules of Magic". According to her research, she was at least partly successful.
Hermione and I talked about it for two days and tried to recreate Hufflepuff's experiments, with no success at all. I am ashamed to admit that I thought we simply were not powerful—sorry—capable enough. Hermione, bless her, didn't agree with me. She was of the opinion that we failed since we were too set in our ways. I told you that the book did her good. A few days ago, the old Hermione would have said we were unsuccessful in bending the rules because one can't bend the rules of magic. This new and improved Hermione was certain that the only limiting factor was the wizard's beliefs. Isn't she amazing? I thought about it for a long moment and when I looked at her I saw the gleam in her eyes.
"I think I have just the right clueless wizard to test this theory on," she said.
Looking at Harry conjuring silver and gold was interesting. I almost felt—excited! Imagine that. I had to see to it that Remus kept quiet during the process. He almost ruined our innocent guinea-pig. What is it with men that they have to state the obvious at every possible opportunity? I find it much more important and interesting to state the unexpected, but I guess you already know that.
All that excitement almost made me forget about the little power competition that our resident wise-arse had got us into. I had a feeling he was in for a nasty surprise.
Going back down to the living room, I found Hermione sitting with her parents, listening to their conversation with a small smile on her lips as if she was amusing herself with a personal joke. She's becoming my kind of girl.
"Calling it a night?" she asked.
"Yep, need to see that my father puts the paper to bed at a reasonable time, and then put him to bed before morning light."
"The paper! I forgot to ask you—did you tell your father the information you found out about the Snorkacks?"
"Of course, Hermione. The very day we found out about it."
"What did he say?"
"He told me he was happy that the case was closed, then."
"That's all? Isn't he going to publish anything about it?"
"Nooo! Father thinks our readers are interested in mysteries, not in solved ex-mysteries."
It was clear that she wanted to say something about it. Then she apparently changed her mind. She's been so sweet lately, trying so hard to be supportive toward me. Hey, right now she'd probably swallow anything I fed her.
"Did you see this morning's Quibbler?" I asked in the most innocent voice I could muster.
"Sorry," she said, shaking her head.
"We had a new headline feature," I told her and summoned the paper to her, folded to the head story.
She looked at the Quibbler front-page story for a very, very long moment, while trying feverishly to find something to say. I just sat there and looked at her with the most impassive expression I could muster.
"Pushmi-pullyu?" she asked cautiously.
"Yep," I answered cheerfully. "I just wish we could have got better pictures."
This is just mean, I thought to myself as I watched Hermione struggling for something to say that couldn't be perceived as offensive.
"You do know—" she started, but stopped after further reflection.
"You were saying?"
"Sorry?" she said absent-mindedly as she took another look at the unfocused picture on the front page of the Quibbler. "Oh, nothing, Luna. Have a nice evening."
"Oh, thank you, Hermione. You, too!" I said, with my trademark dreamy smile, nodded to her parents, and went into the Floo. Sometimes, that dreamy smile is the only thing preventing me from bursting into laughter.
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"So as soon I'm out of the way you all stand in a row and take measurements? And here I was thinking that most of you were girls, with your brains up in your heads and not between your legs."
Tonks was always the sharp one, even when she dabbled as a slave driver. This morning we gave her special ammunition.
"Tell me—what were the results? Tell me, tell me!"
She played that excited-girl role so well that sometimes you forgot what an accomplished witch she was. That, her choice of hair colour, and her clothes made it so easy to underestimate the woman, didn't they?
Remus chuckled softly and hugged his playful girlfriend. "I believe you can guess just who was best."
In the blink of an eye, her playful demeanour disappeared. "How good was he?" she asked.
"We don't really know," I answered. "He was off every chart we managed to set," I said. "Did Remus tell you the interesting part?"
"Interesting?"
Remus twisted under Tonks' gaze for a moment, then mumbled something under his breath.
"What was it, dear?" She looked at her boyfriend with a coy smile that didn't fool him for a second.
"He conjured silver and gold," Remus mumbled again, more clearly.
"Harry conju—"
Tonks' imitation of a fish was really one of the best I had ever seen. The difference was in the eyes. Most people did theirs with something of a stupid look in the eyes, telling us that they were clueless about what was happening around them. Tonks can't do stupid, which testified to her genuine amazement.
"Do you know the curse that conjures and sends metal darts?"
Tonks nodded at Hermione. "It's useful since it requires a different shield spell than most other curses."
"Apparently it's useful against werewolves too," Remus remarked in a weary tone.
Tonks didn't look any wiser, so I offered her the complete explanation. "Hermione told Harry that she'd tried the curse but couldn't control what metal the darts were made of." As if, I thought to myself. "She asked Harry to demonstrate a few different metals for her. He struggled a little but managed to produce silver and gold darts. It was quite impressive, actually. The struggle, I mean."
"Anything else?" she asked in a sarcastic tone. "Did you made the world turn the other way around?"
"Oh, nothing flashy like that," Hermione remarked lightly. I love it when she does that. She knows she has shocking news, so she behaves like everything is completely normal to throw everyone else off balance.
"So? What did you do?"
"We made Harry track his magic."
I didn't think Tonks understood what she meant, as she looked just plain confused. Looking around I noticed that Hermione seemed to be the only one who had a clue as to what I was talking about. It wasn't surprising; she did that advanced target training exactly for that reason.
"Harry made his magic track a target," Hermione explained. "Did you notice how he made the magic arc to keep hitting a target even after he went for cover?"
Tonks nodded.
"Hermione and I thought he could do better."
Hermione smiled at me brightly. You know, it's nice to have friends.
"I made him do the same drill again, only using three targets instead of one. I also made the targets move faster and cast Stunners at him."
"How did you do that?" Tonks interrupted her explanation.
"Oh, nothing fancy, I just passed magic to the targets," she answered. "Anyway, when put under pressure, Harry managed not only to arc his magic but made it keep tracking the target it was hitting even after he was no longer able to see it."
"Yep," I added. "That was about the time he overwhelmed both the room's and your magic, and I had to help you sit."
There was a long silence, since no one had anything else to say.
"How was your day? Did you get your new recruits?"
"Oh, yes!" Tonks exclaimed, her wicked smile returning to her face and turning her hair bright red. "The poor sods are even more hopeless than you girls. I'm going to have so much fun torturing—err—training them."
Remus chuckled softly. "I really feel for the poor guys," he said.
"How were the rest of the marks?"
"Surprisingly good, actually. Second best was Neville. His mark was a bit over the normal scale too. I think he was the one who was most surprised by that fact. Lovely Hermione here was very close behind—again, a bit over the normal scales."
Hermione beamed happily at Bill as he said that, and it was clear that she was quite proud of herself but was trying her best not to show it.
"Sis and Luna here were next best and are very powerful witches indeed. Fleur and Remus came in a bit above average. I came in about average, Su a little below. And my dear younger brother proved that he's a true Weasley. He wasn't at all happy about it, I can tell you."
"What do you mean?"
"Well," Bill said, a bit embarrassed, "we Weasleys are known for not being the strongest of wizards out there. Actually, in the last three generations there have only been two exceptions—Ginny, who is a seventh child and couldn't avoid being an exceptional witch; in fact, she would have been so even if she'd been born to a family of Muggles. The other one, surprisingly enough, is me. I have no explanation for it, not that I'm complaining."
"So, what are we going to do with boy wonder today?" asked Tonks, trying to change the subject.
"Don't you worry, my dear; I have enough ideas to last us for years."
"Talking about anything interesting?"
An awkward silence fell on us as most of us looked for something to say. Most, but Hermione. "We were, actually," she said, and waved her wand in the approximate direction of her room. Moments later a folded newspaper came flying into her hand. "Did you see yesterday's Quibbler?" she asked him, handing Harry the paper which was folded to show the headline story. "Quite interesting," she added, and turned to walk up to the training room with a dreamy smile on her face.
"Err, Hermione?" Harry said as he took a look at the picture and headline.
"Yes, dear?" she asked innocently and kept climbing the stairs.
"Pushmi-pullyu?" he asked his friend's retreating back.
You've just got to love the girl!
"Luna?" I heard Fleur's voice behind me. "You're spending much too much time with Hermione."
I felt a shiver run down my back. "You think so, do you?" I asked her in an even tone. That's the problem with having friends, I thought to myself. You let your guard down, so when they say something like that they can actually hurt you.
"Yep," Tonks added. "You're rubbing off on the poor girl," she said to the laughter of everyone around, and clapped my back amicably.
You know what? I stand corrected—it's wonderful to have friends.
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Dinner was interrupted by two cracking sounds which made everyone rush for their wands; everyone but Harry and Hermione, that is.
"Hi Fred, hi George," she said in a cheerful voice without raising her head from the book she was reading.
"Right," said George.
"Spoil our fun," Fred added.
"Harry!" they said in unison and sat at both his sides.
"Hi guys," he answered around a mouthful of food, not bothering to stop eating for them. "Hungry?" he asked after a moment of thought.
"We heard a rumour that you're the most powerful wizard since...well, they can't compare you to Merlin since there isn't a corresponding scale."
George nodded in agreement with his brother. "Yes, not like our brother there," he said, pointing at Ronald, who was sitting alone at the end of the table.
"Can you try to behave?" Harry asked, not looking forward to having to deal with a new "Ron issue".
George and Fred exchanged looks. "We don't know," Fred answered.
"Never tried, to be truthful about it."
"So, what's brought you to this dreary Black house?"
"Hey, a sense of humour!"
Harry just kept his impassive stare trained on George. Personally, I found that George and Fred tended to overdo their eccentrics. Then again, they did make it into a profession and a source of income. Maybe, in that case, one can't go too far. Look at my father, for example—not that he is a decent example of anything, but his eccentrics were undeniable and he did make his income out of them. In that regard Fred and George were much more focused and dedicated, and I daresay they will probably make much more money than dear Daddy.
Dispirited by the lack of enthusiasm shown toward him and his brother, Fred moved on. "We have a few things to show you girls. Can we go somewhere quieter?"
"Library, then?
Fred and George Disapparated with a loud noise, taking care not to Disapparate simultaneously, to make sure they produced even more noise. Hermione smiled softly from her seat and used her serviette to clean her mouth politely, not that there was any need for that. She smiled softly at me, tilted her head in invitation, and Disapparated after them with a whisper.
"Show-offs," I heard Harry mumble under his breath, though he looked quite amused. "Remus? Tonks?" He said, then rose from his seat, clapped Mr. Granger on his shoulder in invitation, and followed him out of the kitchen. At the door he turned around to look at Ronald, who was still sitting at the table.
"Aren't you coming?"
"I have a feeling I'm not wanted."
Harry sighed in frustration. "Everyone here has a job to do. What we're going to do now is part of your job, unless you don't want it. Yes, you are very much wanted. Actually, you are quite needed. What we don't need are your mood swings, friend."
To my great surprise, Ronald nodded solemnly and rose to follow Harry and Mr. Granger to the library.
I had to admit that I hadn't figured Ronald out completely. Whenever I think I do, he does something to surprise me, though in most cases it is something disappointing. I nodded to the rest of the bunch and Disapparated after them.
Apparation is a bit like snoring. No, it's true! One doesn't know how much noise one is making. Thinking about it, maybe the correlation runs deeper than expected. I have it on good authority that it's very difficult to share a room at night with either Ronald or the Weasley twins. Obviously I didn't know how much noise I made while Apparating. Judging by Ginny, who is usually a good comparison to my capabilities, I Apparate with a cute little popping sound. She's also said that I'm very easy on the ears at night, so there you have it. Now I just needed to spend a night with Harry.—Where the hell did that idea come from?
"We wanted to show you two new fighting tools we were working on, after playing a bit with the computer," George started.
"We decided to concentrate on two elements; one was a long distance weapon and the other was something that could be used without a direct line of sight. In a way, we're trying to develop the magical equivalents of rifles and small bombs, hand grenades, land mines, mortar bombs, and the like.
"We tried to think about improvements to both firepower and rate—equivalents to cannons and machine guns," Fred continued, "but we haven't been able to find a way to separate these aspects from the capabilities of the wizard or witch."
"Yet!" George remarked.
"Yet," Fred agreed.
"What did you do?"
Tonks chuckled softly at the hostile look she received from the brothers.
"This is not the time for retribution, oh brother of mine," said George.
"Right as always," Fred agreed, "and retribution is best served cold."
"Can we move on, friends?"
The twins looked lost for the briefest of moments, then regained their concentration. Strange; I'd never seen them be anything but focused on the task at hand.
"None of this is ready to use, yet."
"Yet!" Fred agreed.
"But it's a good basis to build on." George took out two long poles that looked similar to old-fashioned staffs.
Staffs went out of fashion for two main reasons. The first was advances in the art of wand crafting, which enabled better fusion between the wand's wood and magical heart, thus enabling the wand to channel more magic through it. In the old days, powerful wizards or witches had been forced to use staffs for most of their magic. Nowadays one could do all his magic using a wand. The other reason was that staffs went—there was no other way to say it—out of fashion.
"We made these staffs using modern methods, with the thought of enabling them to channel more magic and turn it into something like a cannon. It didn't work the way we envisioned since we can't think of a source for the excess magic. On the other hand, it does help with better aim. We did a little testing and were able to hit targets from a hundred yards."
George nodded in agreement with his brother. "These are the other items," he said, presenting few small stones that looked like pebbles with runes engraved upon them. "These are small reservoir stones that contain an explosion charm. You can deliver them in any way imaginable: set them to explode at a given time, or on contact, or using any other method. They were quite easy to make since there was nothing new in the magic. This one," he said, taking one of the stones in his hand," is charmed to Stun four seconds after drop-off."
"Shields?" asked Fred, looking around the room. Immediately, everyone had his shield up, and Hermione rushed to hug her father and protect him under her sphere shield. George sent me a questioning look. I smiled softly and he nodded in understanding and dropped the stone to the floor. Four seconds later—well, I don't actually know how much later, because the next thing I knew was that Hermione was crouched near me just after having Ennervated me.
"Are you all right?" she asked me with a soft smile on her face.
"It worked, then?"
"It sure did, you silly girl," she answered and held her hand to me. "Come on, get up."
On the other side of the room Fred was doing the same thing with Ronald. "Don't worry about it, brother. This wasn't a regular Stunner; it goes on until the stone discharges completely. You expected a regular Stunner, so you were surprised by it. I can tell you that George and I still fail sometimes and we do know what to expect. We never test it when we're alone in a room."
"You two are that weak?"
"Weasley treat!" smiled George. "That's why we left training, though we still come for morning runs."
"Yep, that and the fact that between training, learning, and running our shop, we haven't got time to work on new weapons and, worse, new products."
"We really need to make more time!"
"You know we can't do that, Harry," answered Hermione. "It's just too dangerous."
She's so lovely when she truly believes in something, isn't she? "It'll be fine, Harry. Hermione and I will figure out a safe way to make more time."
Harry nodded in understanding. He's much more intelligent than he lets on. "Will you leave some of these for us to 'play' with?" he asked the twins.
"So? No more training for me either?"
Tonks looked at Ronald carefully. "I still want you to do the physical portion. And I believe that it's a good idea for you to keep learning your magic. You need to know how to defend yourself. I don't think it's wise for you to go out on attack missions when we do those, however."
"So—I'm just too weak, am I?"
"Every group of new trainees has about thirty percent who can't do field work. There's no shame in that.
"I don't know if the word 'weak' is appropriate," George remarked.
"Yes," Fred added. "George and I can do all the magic we put our minds to. It has something to do with doing it repeatedly."
Tonks nodded pensively. "Someone from the Department of Mysteries once told me that they'd had ever managed to measure a wizard's true power," she said.
"That's what she meant!" Hermione clapped her hand to her forehead in an irritated gesture, and disappeared without even a whisper.
"Bloody mental, she is," I said under my breath. The last thing I heard before Disapparating after her was Ronald's soft chuckles.