A month passed and the lice problem disappeared. For the future, Hermione suggested they replace the Sorting Hat's lining with plastic and use a convenient spray after each student uses it. She also recommended they stop using the hat, but Trelawney whined and refused.
One afternoon, they hit their usual dead end. Snape and Darth Wing disappeared into their office towards the end of the Gargoyle Corridor. They tried listening through the door, but couldn't hear anything. Most likely because he wasn't making any noise. Across the hall, however, they heard a professor loudly grumbling to himself. They walked to the ajar door and began to listen. They picked out a few words, but most were inaudible.
"...Corn… fudge… stupid brownie… AHH!" Slughorn screamed as they heard a thud. Harry pushed the door open and ran down the stairs with Ron and Hermione following.
"Professor, citizen! Are you alright?!" He was lying on the ground, avalanches of brown stuff falling on top of him.
"Yes. I'm fine. I slipped on the blasted brown stuff." It took tremendous effort for him to stand up. Not because he was hurt, but because he was seriously overweight. "Do you know what clown just sent me a letter?" The three students shook their heads. "Cornelius Fudge."
"Who's that?" Hermione asked.
"A clown," Slughorn answered. "And my mortal enemy."
"I need a mortal enemy," Harry sighed.
"Maybe someday," Ron said as he patted Harry on the back.
Slughorn went on. "Cornelius 'Goblin Crusher' Fudge."
"Goblin Crusher?" Ron asked.
"Oh yeah. Fudge is a terrible person. He's had goblins drowned, dropped off of buildings, poisoned, cooked in pies, everything. But you know what I really dislike about the clown?"
"What?" Harry asked.
"Everybody thinks Fudge is a nice hobo. That he just wants to collect his bottles and buy some dinner.
BUT DOES HE?
I know the truth. He's just a brownie who drank some polyjuice potion."
They blinked at him. "Sorry?" Hermione replied.
"What do you expect from someone named Cornelius Fudge! If he had a more upstanding name like Lucky Charm, then I might have more sympathy. I wish that was my name…"
"Why do you think he's a, erm, brownie who drank polyjuice potion?" Ron asked.
"Here's my reasoning. He has never once, not even one time… denied it."
More blinking ensued. "Did you ever ask him if he was a brownie drinking polyjuice potion?" Hermione asked.
"That's not the point. I've heard him boast about his alleged trip to the moon on a Cleansweep 6 to get moon frogs, but I haven't seen any frogs. Only explanation is that he's a lying brownie. And you guys are going to help me prove it!"
"Oh, um, guys, don't we have that thing?" Hermione asked.
"Yes," Ron hastily replied. "That thing that is important. And unskippable."
Harry nodded. "We'd better get to that thing. Quickly."
Their classes went on. Ron and Hermione became willing to skip History of Magic since they weren't learning anything useful. February third arrived, bringing an evening meeting for Ron and superhero duties for Harry. Unfortunately for Hermione, McLaggen showed up in the common room while she was trying to work.
"With use of your olfactory senses, eulogize at how fantastically Scottish I am," he said.
Hermione pointed to the door. "Go away, Viktor Two."
"However the name in which is in my possession is actually—"
"Viktor Two," she repeated.
"I contend in the recreational enterprise of the athletic gaiety such as Quidditch for the Gryffindor aggregation of Homo sapiens."
Hermione was taken aback. "Wow, okay, no. You do not play for the Gryffindor team."
"Once it is bequeathed to yours truly, I in turn shall."
"What?"
"Poor pitiful simpleton who appears to exist deficient in acuity. Bequeathed. An adjective meaning grand gift."
Hermione could only shake her head and gape at him. "I'm just gonna go…"
"Is there someone else?"
"What?"
"Are you cheating, my love?"
"There's someone else. I can see how you look at Potter!"
She stopped in her tracks. At once she understood. "Moaning Joanne?"
"She offered me four quid."
She stared at him. "H-How much of this is... really you?"
"Most of it. It was just the four quid to namedrop Harry."
"I see."
And he went right back to being himself. "It's Weasley, isn't it?"
"Interesting idea."
"She said you'd be together in two movies."
"Two movies?!" she repeated. "What movie are we on now?"
"She said six. One each year, I guess."
"Two years?" She sank onto the couch behind her. "That's like... two years..." She stared at the ground just before Cormac. "I need to go." She exited Gryffindor Tower and spotted someone very familiar.
"Hermione," Ron greeted as he walked towards her.
"Back so soon?" she asked.
"It was a surprisingly easy meeting. They actually decided to make the leprechaun hat marshmallows temporary, so Slughorn'll be happy."
"Er, I just wanted to say... When have we ever listened to Moaning Joanne and her creepy books? I don't want to wait another two movies. I fancy you. You feel the same, right?"
Ron stared at her like Ginny did when she first saw Harry in Moaning Joanne's weird fanfic. Then because normal people don't do that, he shook it off and replied. "Yeah, yes. I do. Hm. In that case, we should go out somewhere, eh?"
Hermione smiled and nodded. "Where do you suggest?"
"Ma—"
"If it has something to do with maple syrup, we're through."
"I... was going to say the mavies. That's how we Canadians say movies."
Hermione laughed. "When?"
"Actually, I was invited to the premiere of a new movie. If we leave now we can get to Los Angeles and attend.
"You mean miss classes to go to another country?" Hermione asked. "Nothing would make me happier."
"Great, I'll call my jet people."
Hermione gasped once she saw something in the distance of the corridor. A certain ratty old blanket rose and revealed someone underneath. "Harry?! Were you listening to us?!"
"As the Protector and King of Hogwarts, you should know I'm always listening."
Ron led her down the corridor. He clapped Harry on the back as they walked past. "We're going to the states."
Soon, a white and red jet landed on the road to Hogsmeade. There was nothing on it except for several giant red maple leaves. On the inside, the pleasant aroma of maple syrup wafted through the air. The comfy seats were a tan color and they had maple leaf pillows on them. A maple leaf themed blanket rested on one of the chairs. A variety of pretty glass bottles of Mr. Ronworth's were on every flat surface.
"I've always thought your passion for maple syrup was cute, but now I'm a little worried that you're obsessed."
"I'm not obsessed, I'm Canadian."
Big Pigwidgeon's flight accommodations included a breakfast of poutine, mini pancake snacks, Canadian movies, and of course, free maple syrup. The in-flight magazine selection was quite underwhelming. The options were exclusively business magazines, and of those, only issues with Ron on the cover. Nevertheless, by the next morning, they were in California.
Ron and Hermione explore Los Angeles until six-thirty and then made their way to the premiere. Thanks to Ron, they were free to cross the barricades and mingle with the famous people if they chose to. Even though so many people were behind the barricades, the red carpet was still suffocatingly crowded with interviewers, cameramen, and other people who were well, just around. Repeating in the backdrop of the red carpet were logos from their sponsors as well as the logo for the upcoming movie, Attack of the Midgets. Movie signage and other promotional art was everywhere. Huge lights sent dancing beams of light up to the dark sky. Pretty people wore fanciful gowns and tuxedos as if they were attending a grand ball rather than some midget-based movie premiere. Seeing an interviewer babbling to the cameraman in a long jewel-encrusted dress, Hermione looked down at her worn sneakers and jeans. She then glanced at Ron's t-shirt, how do you miss a button on a polo?
"Aren't we supposed to be dressed up?" she asked, panic in her voice.
"Nah, when you're rich, no one cares about dress codes. Besides, these are Americans. They'll think we're incredibly fancy just because of our accents. Cheerio, mate," he called to a group of people behind the barricades. They all swooned.
"Ron!" a middle-aged man with brown hair and glasses called. "Good to see you."
"Hi, Will," Ron grumbled, head down but eyes looking up at him.
"New watch?"
Ron stared down his enemy with boredom to bore a generation. "Nope, same one. What, did you get another Rolex this month?"
"Why, yes, I did. Thank you for noticing. I actually wear two watches now, in case one begins to bore me."
"Or is it because you bore the watches?" Ron asked, his expression steady.
"Always quick-witted, my boy. You know you could afford more."
Ron's face changed for the first time in the entire conversation. "What is with you and watches?" he exclaimed. "No, I don't spend all my money on watches. And I don't understand why you'd want me to. Is this another one of your conspiracies?"
Will Fences chuckled. He eventually changed the subject. "Did you take my advice on using my newest operating system for your business?" he asked.
"No. I'm still using Maple OS. It doesn't crash every time I turn it on."
Will laughed. "The PC I gave you should have worked perfectly. Did you run updates?"
"It's not like I had a choice."
"Ah, well. Maybe someday. I'd really like to partner with RonCorp. Alas, I'm off to find something to eat. Hopefully they don't have caviar. We all know how common it is to accidentally throw bowls at tech leaders."
"Oh, come off it! Why don't you find another idea to steal?" He walked away and Ron turned to Hermione. "That was Will Fences." Hermione couldn't wipe the smile off her face.
The limos started to arrive and to their surprise, they recognized several people. Adam and Kevin got out of a limo and were the first to walk the red carpet. The carpet was filled with flashes of light and the sound of cameras shuttering.
A tall, deep-voiced announcer held his mic close and spoke. "Here they come, Adam and Kevin, the young and promising directors and actors just out of high school. They play the two leads of Attack of the Midgets. Adam plays a hotel maintenance technician and Kevin is a package delivery man." They walked the carpet, making funny faces at the cameras. Another limo pulled up. "Here comes Dobby who plays one of the midgets. He may be purple, but he'll take over the world alongside his large ragtag group of tiny lovable antagonists!" Dobby did a strange dance across the carpet, stopping a couple times to have his picture taken before setting off again with some new moves. A third limo arrived and a short person who looked like a much older version of Dobby stepped onto the carpet. "Here is Kreacher who has assumed his role as one who gives wise suggestions to his allies." He was a much more stiff famous person. But, he did what he was told and got the job done. Another limo came. "Lastly our short princess Winky, who plays an alcoholic midget."
The five people caught up to each other and then stopped to pose for even more photos. The photos continued still with actors pairing up in a variety of arrangements. The interviewers attempted to break one or two away from the pack to get an interview and finally, Dobby took a few steps away. Whether this was him taking a few innocent steps in a different direction than the rest, forgetting why he was even in Los Angeles tonight, or actually approaching an interviewer, it didn't matter. The lady with the jewel-encrusted dress and her cameraman counterpart were rushing the rest of the way.
"Dobby!" she called. "What made you want to act in this movie?" The interviewer shoved her mic in his face.
"Dobby didn't have a choice. Dobby attacked with a broomstick and had to be punished. This was Dobby's punishment."
Other interviewers and camera-people were already trying to steal the scoop. And violence among famous people always sells. It'll be on the front page of Persons Magazine. An enticing headline perhaps saying, Dobby attacks castmate after HUGE conflict! Persons Exclusive life-changing scandal! "Were you attacking one of your castmates?" another interviewer asked.
"Did the victim press charges?"
"Have you ever been, or are you presently incarcerated?"
"Is there a Mrs. Dobby?"
"Dobby… Dobby… does not know. Dobby is on mission." The reporters hesitated, but then demanded more information.
"What is the mission?"
"Are you an alien?"
"Would you tell us if you are a secret agent? We promise we won't tell anyone if you are."
They had a clear view of that last person's backside. Ron pointed to him. "He's crossing his fingers." Hermione shook her head. Typical.
"Dobby must protect Harry Potter!" he shouted.
"Who is Harry Potter?"
"Is Harry Potter a secret society?"
"Is Harry Potter a fictitious character?"
"Is Harry Potter Mrs. Dobby?"
Dobby wasn't the only one being bombarded with questions. Winky was sitting on the ground drinking heavily from a square bottle while reporters had a one-sided discussion and took even more photos. Kreacher was fighting off the press much to their enjoyment. They'll have another eye-catching headline for their tabloids tomorrow. Adam and Kevin, however, were taking their questions in stride.
Ron led the way to Dobby. It was great tv, but it needed something interactive. "Harry Potter is a superhero from Australia."
The announcer had joined the group just as Ron and Hermione had. "Yes, I've heard of him. He seems to be all the rage in the land down under."
"He's started working on his first memoir," Hermione said.
"Really?" The announcer said as he rubbed his chin as if there was a beard. "I'm Thaddeus Plotz. A superhero from Australia... Brilliant idea. Do you know him?"
"Know him? He's our best friend," Ron said.
"Tell him to give me a call when that memoir comes out. It could make a great movie." He handed them a business card.
"We'll do that," Hermione said brightly as she took the card.
They shuffled inside a huge event hall. A large sculpture of a particularly threatening of Dobby stood in the center of the room. He was a good actor, they had seen that exact look whenever he saw Harry, and through the filming of this, he was nowhere near Harry. Off of the crowded main room, there was a theater.
The movie opened with a vacationing package delivery man. There was a strike at work and the man who lives in his basement was driving him crazy. He escaped to the Vacation Inn and became fast friends with the maintenance technician whose father owned the hotel. Or used to. He sold it to a big corporation and didn't know their malicious plots. BigCorp wanted to replace the entire staff with midgets. And so they did. They left the previously mentioned maintenance technician because they had to have one tall person left. Someone had to build booster seats and ladders for the midgets. The evil corporation treated the midgets terribly, so the tiny people decided to take over the world. To do this, they planned to create a sensational card game called Midgmon. Then, they would use the cards to control the minds of all the children who possessed these cards. Eventually, they would be old enough to vote, and the midgets would make them vote their stubby kind into office. From there they would take over the world! The two non-midgets vowed to not let this happen. They raced the stacking midgets who wore trench coats and fake beards to investors at Investment Bank. A lot of fighting ensued, and they eventually got to the bank. They rushed to the investors and told them of the midget's plan only to find that the investors thought they were a bunch of five-year-olds, and didn't plan to invest in their stupid idea anyway. Dobby swore they would succeed in their future plans to take over the world, clearly setting up for a sequel. "Dobby must protect Harry— Midget rights!"
The movie ended and the theater emptied. They stayed in Los Angeles for a couple days for one of Ron's larger business meetings. He invited Hermione and together they discussed business deals, American Mr. Ronworth's, along with Ron's lesser-known but flourishing pharmaceutical company. Soon they were flying in Ron's jet again and landed just after classes on Friday afternoon. They went to Gryffindor Tower and found Harry in the common room.
"Moaning Joanne is very angry," Harry informed.
"I figured," Hermione shrugged, jetlag bothering like a nosy neighbor.
"Anything interesting happen while we were gone?" Ron asked.
"Not really. I've been hanging out with Neville because he wanted screen time. Whatever that means. We spied on Snape. But we couldn't find him this weekend."
"Really?" Hermione asked, lying down on one of the couches.
"Yeah, we looked in his office, and his classroom, there was just no trace of him all weekend. He must have gone to some half-vampire convention."
"Makes sense," Ron agreed.
February faded into March and when that ended, April took over. They watched the latest episode of 80 Day Prom Date with Dumbledore and Hagrid. It ended with a passive-aggressive battle of whits and one final cat fight to end all other cat fights. They weren't actual cats, mind you.
"Trash tv is great and all," Hermione began, "but when are we going to learn magic? I'm starting to think this whole thing is fake. Again."
Dumbledore searched through the lineup of ALC, Audience Loves Conflict. "As I've said before, our knowledge of magic is quite underwhelming. The only thing for you to do is continue practicing." He looked over to Hagrid. "They're still making new episodes Max Capacity House. Can you believe it?"
Hagrid huffed. "We've bin tellin' 'em we hate it."
"We've been practicing," Ron said.
Harry launched to his feet. "How are these spells supposed to help us defeat Voldemort?"
"Defeat him?" Dumbledore repeated, setting down the remote. "You are three sixteen-year-olds. I've taught you to defend yourselves. It is too dangerous for you to fight."
"Hey!" Hermione snapped. "You've told us we can use wizard lasers but we can't shoot anybody with them? What's the point?!"
Dumbledore leaned in towards Hagrid. "Yes, go ahead and put her on the list," he muttered.
Hermione ignored him and went on. "We need all the wizards we can get! From what I've gathered, there aren't a lot of us. And the wizards who are around don't know very much. Am I correct?"
"Yes," the headmaster sighed.
Harry's curiosity became too great to contain. "Why?"
"Magic is a difficult skill to learn without a seasoned teacher. Therefore, learning magic is like learning to read from an illiterate parent. A lot of the better wizarding families can only use the wand-lighting charm. My brother has trained most of the wizards you've met and I taught Hagrid. There is only one other teacher that I know of. Quite possibly the only other teacher entirely. The Order is comprised of all the best wizards I could find and were willing. Disregarding who taught them."
"Then you need us!" Ron exclaimed. "The Order only has seven wizards. Seven?" he repeated. "Blast, Moaning Joanne and her sevens. Why couldn't the magic number be like, 200 or something?"
"The point is, there are way more than seven Death Eaters," Hermione reminded.
"And how many of those are wizards?" Harry added. "He may have his very own Order. Order of the Villains!"
Dumbledore put his foot down. "No."
Hagrid had picked up the remote and found something of interest. "There's a marathon of the good seasons of Max Capacity!"
He dismissed the class and they followed him to his office. He wasn't listening to them. He refused to even let them come inside the round room.