The rest of the camp rolled by seemingly without a hitch. Rachel
helped bring the Phoenixes to victory in the summer championship, and was
amazed at how much Maté helped her. In next to no time she was back in
Britain, but this time she had a serious question to ask.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Rachel stood in front of the door out of the suite and looked her father in the eye.
"Tell you what?" Mr. Jacobson kept walking and sat down on the couch.
Rachel followed until she was standing in front of him. "How long did you expect to hide it from me?"
"Hide what?" Mr. Jacobson looked slightly confused.
"People died dad. You couldn't hide it from me forever."
"Oh." Mr. Jacobson's eyebrows knitted together. "I was worried–what that information–get hurt–your own good–"
"Dad, I had to ask someone, and it turns out I asked Jeremiah's girlfriend."
Mr. Jacobson flinched. "Well, now you know, don't you."
"Dad! Stay there and tell me the whole thing."
"Rachel–I."
"Daddy, please. I have to know." Rachel folded her arms and dropped to the couch beside her father to hear the whole story.
The day she was to meet Hermione, Ron and Harry was bright and clear. Rachel rushed out to meet Hermione, punctual, as usual, and they sat at Florean Fortescues, both eating sundaes. Hermione's was a strawberry raspberry with walnuts, while Rachel had a huge chocolate confection topped with whipped cream and drizzled with hot fudge sauce. Hermione was telling Rachel about her summer in Bulgaria, and Rachel was talking about Eastern. She was on the bit with Jeremiah when Harry and Ron arrived.
"So anyway, I find out that our seeker died!"
Hermione gasped. Ron said, rather loudly. "Harry's dead?
Harry looked alarmed.
Rachel turned around, and said in a flat voice. "Yes Ronnie dear, Harry's dead, haven't you heard? That should explain why he's standing right next to you."
Ron ignored this, and instead clamped his hands over his ears. "ARGH! American! My poor ears!" Ron was commenting on Rachel's rejuvenate American accent, back with a vengeance after her summer in the states
"Just be glad I'm not a New Yorker."
"Why?" Ron's hands were still over his ears as he sat down next to Hermione. Harry slid in beside Rachel.
"I have three words. Ten. Times. Worse."
They all laughed and Harry and Ron ordered their ice cream. They relayed their summers again to each other.
"So, Harry, managed to escape the Dursley's? And stay with Ron. I don't know if I envy you." Ron stuck his tongue out at Rachel and she poked him.
"I still can't believe you get to do magic over the summer." Ron whined as he stirred and mashed his banana split into an almost inedible slush.
"Well, if you went to a magic summer camp in America, you could too."
"I think my eardrums would burst."
"You would probably like it." Hermione put in. "Think of the learning experience."
"You might even start talking like a yank!" Rachel smiled broadly.
Ron cursed. "I better not, or I'd want my money back!"
"It sounds interesting." Harry said thoughtfully, "and it might be safer because it is an ocean away."
"Since when have you been concerned with safety?" Ron tapped Harry's head. "I think my mother is starting to affect you."
"No–it's just–with the rise of Voldemort–" Ron flinched, "And the death of Cedric–I'm worried."
"It wasn't your fault." Rachel was serious. She looked intently at Harry. He couldn't meet her gaze. "It's a tragedy Harry, but you can't beat yourself up over it."
"Yeah–" Harry looked down at his vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce and studied it as if it were the most interesting thing he had ever seen. Hermione broke the silence by saying,
"Come on! Let's get our supplies!"
Rachel, Ron and Harry talked spiritedly about Gryffindor's Quidditch team this year, while Hermione scanned book titles. She sort of stood off to the side a little bit when they paid for their books and left Flourish and Blots.
"We have to stop off at Madame Malkins. I need a new robe. My last one–" Harry trailed off.
"Sure!"
"And I have to buy new dress robes." Ron turned rather pink. "The twins gave me some money, Lord knows where they found it, but they told me to find something un-maroon."
"Can do!" They all entered the shop. Rachel pulled Hermione over. "C'mon! We have to buy new dress robes!"
"New? But mine is–"
"Come on Mone, I wanna talk to you!" Rachel pulled Hermione into the section of un-finished dress robes waiting to be hemmed. "Were we leaving you out when we were talking about Quidditch?" Rachel knew it was a childish question, and turned almost as red as the satin robe behind her.
"A little." Hermione studied the ground.
"Sorry, won't do it again." Then Rachel started combing the racks. "You see, Hermione dear, you stunned everyone at the Wint–Yule Ball last year, now, you have to do it again, or they will think it is just beginners luck. Understand moi?"
"Er–I guess so..."
"I mean, neither of us are very shallow, right? We deserve a chance to feel pretty. And this time, I'll help you with your hair so it doesn't take three hours, because I know, deep in your heart, you would rather be studying."
Hermione smiled. Soon they had their dress robes hemmed and pressed, placed into bags and were on their way.
"What do they look like?"
"Dress robes." Hermione held hers out of Ron's reach.
"I could have figured that much out myself. But what do they LOOK like?"
"I know what you look like?" Harry was grinning.
"What do I look like?" Ron made a snatch for Rachel's, but she pulled it away just in time.
"Uh-uh-uh," she shook her finger at him, "don't mess with a keeper."
"Well Harry? What do I look like?"
"A nosy git too concerned with his friends dress robes."
Ron grinned. "Wanna see mine?"
"Sure." Rachel looked at Ron expectantly.
"Too bad!" Ron dashed away, and Hermione cuffed him lightly.
"It's green." Harry said in a confidential whisper. "No lace cuffs for our Ron this time. He's going in style."
They finished their shopping, and Harry and Ron found Molly Weasley, and Hermione's parents came and picked her up, and as they all walked off together, leaving Rachel on the steps of the ministry building, she couldn't help but feel a bit of remorse at how they got along together so well without her. Almost as if they didn't need her. Like they could get on without her. It surprised Rachel how much one troll in a bathroom could do for a person, but it surprised her even more that they didn't even look back.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Rachel stood in front of the door out of the suite and looked her father in the eye.
"Tell you what?" Mr. Jacobson kept walking and sat down on the couch.
Rachel followed until she was standing in front of him. "How long did you expect to hide it from me?"
"Hide what?" Mr. Jacobson looked slightly confused.
"People died dad. You couldn't hide it from me forever."
"Oh." Mr. Jacobson's eyebrows knitted together. "I was worried–what that information–get hurt–your own good–"
"Dad, I had to ask someone, and it turns out I asked Jeremiah's girlfriend."
Mr. Jacobson flinched. "Well, now you know, don't you."
"Dad! Stay there and tell me the whole thing."
"Rachel–I."
"Daddy, please. I have to know." Rachel folded her arms and dropped to the couch beside her father to hear the whole story.
The day she was to meet Hermione, Ron and Harry was bright and clear. Rachel rushed out to meet Hermione, punctual, as usual, and they sat at Florean Fortescues, both eating sundaes. Hermione's was a strawberry raspberry with walnuts, while Rachel had a huge chocolate confection topped with whipped cream and drizzled with hot fudge sauce. Hermione was telling Rachel about her summer in Bulgaria, and Rachel was talking about Eastern. She was on the bit with Jeremiah when Harry and Ron arrived.
"So anyway, I find out that our seeker died!"
Hermione gasped. Ron said, rather loudly. "Harry's dead?
Harry looked alarmed.
Rachel turned around, and said in a flat voice. "Yes Ronnie dear, Harry's dead, haven't you heard? That should explain why he's standing right next to you."
Ron ignored this, and instead clamped his hands over his ears. "ARGH! American! My poor ears!" Ron was commenting on Rachel's rejuvenate American accent, back with a vengeance after her summer in the states
"Just be glad I'm not a New Yorker."
"Why?" Ron's hands were still over his ears as he sat down next to Hermione. Harry slid in beside Rachel.
"I have three words. Ten. Times. Worse."
They all laughed and Harry and Ron ordered their ice cream. They relayed their summers again to each other.
"So, Harry, managed to escape the Dursley's? And stay with Ron. I don't know if I envy you." Ron stuck his tongue out at Rachel and she poked him.
"I still can't believe you get to do magic over the summer." Ron whined as he stirred and mashed his banana split into an almost inedible slush.
"Well, if you went to a magic summer camp in America, you could too."
"I think my eardrums would burst."
"You would probably like it." Hermione put in. "Think of the learning experience."
"You might even start talking like a yank!" Rachel smiled broadly.
Ron cursed. "I better not, or I'd want my money back!"
"It sounds interesting." Harry said thoughtfully, "and it might be safer because it is an ocean away."
"Since when have you been concerned with safety?" Ron tapped Harry's head. "I think my mother is starting to affect you."
"No–it's just–with the rise of Voldemort–" Ron flinched, "And the death of Cedric–I'm worried."
"It wasn't your fault." Rachel was serious. She looked intently at Harry. He couldn't meet her gaze. "It's a tragedy Harry, but you can't beat yourself up over it."
"Yeah–" Harry looked down at his vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce and studied it as if it were the most interesting thing he had ever seen. Hermione broke the silence by saying,
"Come on! Let's get our supplies!"
Rachel, Ron and Harry talked spiritedly about Gryffindor's Quidditch team this year, while Hermione scanned book titles. She sort of stood off to the side a little bit when they paid for their books and left Flourish and Blots.
"We have to stop off at Madame Malkins. I need a new robe. My last one–" Harry trailed off.
"Sure!"
"And I have to buy new dress robes." Ron turned rather pink. "The twins gave me some money, Lord knows where they found it, but they told me to find something un-maroon."
"Can do!" They all entered the shop. Rachel pulled Hermione over. "C'mon! We have to buy new dress robes!"
"New? But mine is–"
"Come on Mone, I wanna talk to you!" Rachel pulled Hermione into the section of un-finished dress robes waiting to be hemmed. "Were we leaving you out when we were talking about Quidditch?" Rachel knew it was a childish question, and turned almost as red as the satin robe behind her.
"A little." Hermione studied the ground.
"Sorry, won't do it again." Then Rachel started combing the racks. "You see, Hermione dear, you stunned everyone at the Wint–Yule Ball last year, now, you have to do it again, or they will think it is just beginners luck. Understand moi?"
"Er–I guess so..."
"I mean, neither of us are very shallow, right? We deserve a chance to feel pretty. And this time, I'll help you with your hair so it doesn't take three hours, because I know, deep in your heart, you would rather be studying."
Hermione smiled. Soon they had their dress robes hemmed and pressed, placed into bags and were on their way.
"What do they look like?"
"Dress robes." Hermione held hers out of Ron's reach.
"I could have figured that much out myself. But what do they LOOK like?"
"I know what you look like?" Harry was grinning.
"What do I look like?" Ron made a snatch for Rachel's, but she pulled it away just in time.
"Uh-uh-uh," she shook her finger at him, "don't mess with a keeper."
"Well Harry? What do I look like?"
"A nosy git too concerned with his friends dress robes."
Ron grinned. "Wanna see mine?"
"Sure." Rachel looked at Ron expectantly.
"Too bad!" Ron dashed away, and Hermione cuffed him lightly.
"It's green." Harry said in a confidential whisper. "No lace cuffs for our Ron this time. He's going in style."
They finished their shopping, and Harry and Ron found Molly Weasley, and Hermione's parents came and picked her up, and as they all walked off together, leaving Rachel on the steps of the ministry building, she couldn't help but feel a bit of remorse at how they got along together so well without her. Almost as if they didn't need her. Like they could get on without her. It surprised Rachel how much one troll in a bathroom could do for a person, but it surprised her even more that they didn't even look back.