Disclaimer: The characters, the setting, everything: they all belong to J.K. Rowling, and I appreciate the opportunity to borrow them.

Denizen of the Deep: A Hogwarts Fairy-Tale

by Hedda



Dennis Creevey sneezed. As his mother would no doubt have predicted, he had started a cold after yesterday evening's adventure; but he bore his streaming nose and raspy throat with pride, and carried his handkerchief like a badge of honour. Blowing his nose with it now, and tucking it away again in the sleeve of his robes, he resumed his meandering path through the Gryffindor common room, trying to find someone, anyone, who would listen to him. He felt rather like a flea hopping around a pack of large and indifferent dogs. Every once in a while he managed to buttonhole an unsuspecting student long enough to gasp out, "Did you hear? I fell in the lake!" but no one stayed around for the whole story. Above all, he wanted to tell Harry Potter; but oddly enough, no matter where he went, Harry seemed to be on the opposite side of the room. Giving up, Dennis sank into a large armchair by the fire, nearly vanishing into its bulk, and dejectedly blew his nose again.

His older brother Colin materialised by his side. "Did you talk to him, Dennis? Did you talk to Harry?" One look at his brother's face apparently convinced him otherwise, because he went on without a break, "Don't worry, Dennis. He's just, you know, busy. Fourth years have a lot of work to do. And I bet he's thinking about trying for the Triwizard Cup!" Dennis glowed inwardly at the very thought. "Here," Colin went on, "Have a fresh handkerchief." He paused, then continued with a new burst of enthusiasm, "You can tell me all about it again!"

Dennis took a deep breath. "It was brilliant, Colin! I fell right off the back of the boat! Hagrid tried to reach me, but he couldn't, and I thought I was going to have to swim for shore, but then something grabbed me, it was a slimy thing, it wrapped right around my waist, and then I was in the air, and then I was back in the boat, just like that, it hurt when I fell, but I didn't mind, it was so cool!" He produced this extraordinary statement without pausing for air, and his aching throat turned the last words into a croak. Coughing violently, he nonetheless managed to grin happily at Colin, and went on as soon as he was able. "D'you really think it was the giant squid?" Colin nodded excitedly. "I think it said something to me," Dennis whispered.

"What?"

"I don't know!" Beaming at the sheer brilliance of this cephalopod incomprehensibility, Dennis subsided into sniffly but satisfied silence. He stared into the fire. The hearth was the shore of a sea of coals, and flames were transmuted into waving tentacles in his imagination. Both his view and his fantasies were, however, suddenly blocked by two stocky figures that moved into the space between him and the hearth. He looked up, and saw to his delight the famous Weasley twins, Fred and George, who had been pointed out to him by Colin the night before. Taking a deep but cautious breath, he prepared to launch into his story, but Fred preempted him.

"You're the one who fell in, right? Dried out yet?" Dennis nodded, his eyes widening, and opened his mouth for another rendition of It was brilliant, but sneezed again instead. "Hey, George," went on Fred, "How come we never thought of jumping in the lake?"

"'Cause we're not completely mental?" contributed George. He shrugged, and added, "'Cause we don't fancy being manhandled by giant sea monsters?"

"It's not a monster!" burst out Dennis, surprising himself. "It's... nice," he finished, feeling the inadequacy of the word, but incapable of making himself clearer.

Fred grinned at George. "Funny," he said, "he doesn't look like Hagrid."

"Probably why the squid spat him back out," answered George. "Too little. Hey, Fred -- reckon Hagrid would let us do an experiment for Care of Magical Creatures? What the Squid Likes for Its Breakfast?" He and Fred turned to go, ignoring Dennis and Colin.

"Good idea," Fred said as they moved out of earshot. "We can use Malfoy as a guinea pig."

Dennis stared down at his feet, which didn't quite meet the floor. I am too little, he thought. Not even the squid wants--

"Dennis?" said a new voice at his elbow. He looked up to catch the eye of another first year student, a tall, skinny, brown-haired girl he identified after a moment's thought as Natalie McDonald. "Can I sit here, then?" He waved a hand vaguely at the next armchair. Natalie went on in rapt tones, "I saw you fall in the lake yesterday -- you were so brave! What happened? I heard something about a squid--"

Colin beamed proudly at his brother, and looked encouraging, but Dennis had had enough. What does she know? he grumbled inwardly. Just wait till she sees me stand up. "Excuse me," he said abruptly, "But I really have to get to bed. I have a cold." Not meeting Natalie's eyes, he pushed his way past her, heading for the dormitory stairs.

********************

Thankful that none of his roommates were yet in the dormitory, Dennis changed into his pyjamas, placed several handkerchiefs under his pillow, and prepared to climb into bed. He hesitated, then went to his trunk and opened it. Reaching in, he took out his most treasured possession, but one he had thought he'd be too embarrassed to keep close at Hogwarts, and had brought along "just in case." It was a shapeless mass of cloth and stuffing which had once been a cat-shaped pillow but which now consisted only of a large, faceless head and streamers of dark fabric. Dennis had taken this object to bed with him every night until he was eight, and had thought he'd outgrown it until the time came to pack his trunk for Hogwarts. After all, he had thought, the letter said I could bring a cat... OR an owl OR a toad. I want Snuggles.

Grasping his security firmly to his chest, he got into bed and pulled the curtains around him. Last night had been too exciting for him to feel the strangeness of sleeping in a new place, but tonight feelings of loneliness and isolation threatened to overwhelm him. Ever since Colin had come home on his first holiday from Hogwarts, babbling about charms and wands and potions, Dennis had longed to join him; the acceptance letter, when it came, had seemed almost an anticlimax, so certain was Dennis that, Muggle-born though he was, this was his destiny. Why did he now feel so... inadequate?

He reached for a handkerchief and blew his nose thoroughly. Everything will be all right in the morning, his mother's voice whispered in his mind. This, of course, only made him feel more like crying. In a few seconds, however, his natural enthusiasm came to the rescue: Transfiguration tomorrow, he remembered, and saw himself turning mice into pumpkins, or whatever it was that happened in the -- Muggle, his inner voice added -- fairy tales. He was envisioning a giant squid being turned into a noble prince when he fell asleep.

And dreamed...

The skies above Hogwarts had been cloudy but calm when Dennis went to bed, but in his dream yesterday's storm had returned, and the wind and rain whipped around the castle screaming like banshees. He found himself standing on the front steps of the castle, dressed only in his pyjamas, shivering. Looking around wildly, he wondered what he was doing here, and was about to make the unusually sensible decision to go indoors where it was dry, when a voice came out of the storm. "Dennis," it boomed, echoing against the castle walls, a long, drawn-out call with a hiss at the end: "Dennissss..." it repeated; and suddenly he felt it impossible to go anywhere but towards the voice. "Coming," he squeaked, and stumbled down the stairs. Across the lawns he ran, slipping on the wet grass, as the voice called again and again, drawing him inexorably down to... the lake. "Here I am," he gasped when he reached it, and was met by an enormous wave that hit the shore and soaked him all the way up to his shoulders.

A wordless exclamation escaped him, and he stepped several feet backwards. Trying to shelter his eyes from the rain, he craned his neck and gazed at the tumultuous waves, hoping to see whatever it was that had brought him here. No luck. Driven by an unknown instinct, he felt at the waistband of his pyjamas, and without thinking how strange it was that he should be carrying his wand there, pulled it out and pointed it at the lake. "Aequo!" he cried out (the word coming unbidden to his lips), and a stream of blue light left his wand and hit the waves. Spreading out over the water like an oil slick and flattening the colossal waves, the blue light made the lake gleam momentarily, and then vanished. Dennis took two steps forward.

Suddenly, the surface of the lake stirred once again, this time to make way for the bulk of an enormous head breaking the surface. Dennis gasped, and stood his ground only with difficulty, as the giant squid swung a searching tentacle in his direction. The long, slimy, sucker-covered thing reached him; pure terror battled with his sense of pride, and pride won. Dennis only closed his eyes, and shivered, as the tentacle, surprisingly gently, stroked his cheek.

"Dennisss," came the booming, hissing voice again, and he opened his eyes. "You are courageousss," the voice went on, slipping past his ears on the wet air.

"You're not going to hurt me," Dennis replied breathlessly. "You saved my life, out there," he continued, gesturing towards the lake. "Hagrid couldn't have... I wouldn't have been able to..."

A long, wet sigh issued from the darkness. Dennis wasn't certain the sound was coming from the squid directly; it seemed to originate in the air itself, or in the rain, and he was pretty sure squid didn't have voices that humans could understand. "The ancient magic bindsss usss now, child. When one magical creature savesss the life of another, the one who is reborn to life owes a debt to his sssaviour."

"I have to save your life now?" Dennis gulped.

"You mussst do what I asssk. Are you prepared?"

Once again, Dennis had to suppress a visceral surge of terror. It won't ask anything that will hurt me, he told himself; and then, How do you know? "Yes," he replied finally, shaking but determined.

"You mussst let me grant you three wissshes."

Dennis gaped. "But..." he finally stammered out, "that's... that's not something for you, that's..."

"Do you not accept?" The voice was faintly threatening now.

"Yes, yes! I do -- I just don't understand."

"You do not need to underssstand. Wisssh."

Dennis somehow didn't think he had much time for consideration here, so he said the first thing that came into his head: his innermost wish, one that he hoped was a secret, but knew better. It was, after all, the first thing people noticed about him -- his most obvious inadequacy. "I want to be big," he said, in a very small voice, then added a qualifier: "Big as Hagrid."

There was a sudden, swirling rush of wind and water, and Dennis only had time to guess that the spinning motion of the squid's tentacles, glimpsed briefly through the curtain of rain, was the cause of this whirlwind, before it carried him away.

********************

Back in Gryffindor common room, the following evening, Dennis had his first real opportunity to reflect on the meaning of his dream. He had awoken that morning perfectly dry, not in the least slimy or seaweedy, and exactly the same size he had been the night before. It was just a dream then, was his first thought, followed in short order by What else could it have been?

And then it was time to dress, grab his timetable and his books, and head down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He moved in a happy daze through his classes that day -- he was convinced he would excel at Transfiguration, as he'd managed to turn his match, not exactly into a needle, but into an object that certainly would never set anything on fire ever again -- and gulped his meals enthusiastically while chatting to Colin and to his fellow first years. At dinner, he noticed Natalie McDonald sitting alone at the end of the table, pushing her food around her plate with a fork, and nudged his neighbor, Callum Cockleroy, another first year.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked, pointing in Natalie's direction.

"Who, Nat the Prat?" returned Callum carelessly. "She's all right. Don't worry. She gets that way."

"Do you know her, then?" asked Dennis.

"Yeah -- grew up in the same village, didn't we? Whole bunches of wizarding families there, we almost outnumber the Muggles -- mostly tourists, they are -- anyhow, Nat's family's one of the oldest, but..." He shrugged. "Never saw her do any magic, not that counts; and we didn't see any today, either, did we?" Natalie's match had remained stubbornly wooden, blunted, and flammable throughout Transfiguration class. "So she gets a bit, you know, depressed."

"Maybe she's just scared," suggested Dennis, but Callum scoffed. "Wouldn't be in Gryffindor, then, would she? 'The bravest prized far beyond the rest' and all that."

"Oh, I don't know," said Dennis quietly, but Callum didn't hear him.

Now, in the common room, he looked curiously over at Natalie, who was slumped over a long table taking notes out of her Defence Against the Dark Arts book. She looked as though she were gripping the quill very hard, and her mouth was set in a line. Dennis hesitated momentarily, blew his nose again, then got up and went over to her table. He glanced towards the far end of the table, where another student was sitting half-hidden behind an enormous pile of books, but decided that quiet conversation was allowable. "May I sit down?" he asked politely.

Natalie stared up at him. "Be my guest," she mumbled inhospitably, and began to draw her books and parchments together, until Dennis put out a hand to stop her. "Don't leave," he said quickly.

"Didn't think you wanted to talk to me," said Natalie, and Dennis felt himself blush.

"I'm sorry about last night," he said. "You were the only one who wanted to hear me talk at all, in fact, and there I was giving you the brush-off." He grinned at her. "What can I say? I was in a bad mood."

She offered him a half-grin in return, her eyes remaining tense and serious, then opened her book again and drew the piece of parchment closer. Dennis cast about for another semi-intelligent remark. "Uh -- what did you think about Defence Against the Dark Arts then? Professor Moody's a bit, er, intense, wouldn't you say?"

"A bit," said Natalie dryly, without looking up.

"It's cool that he's going to let us fight a real boggart, though," continued Dennis excitedly. "Is that what you're taking notes on?"

"No, we had lots of boggarts in the cas--" Natalie began, then stopped abruptly.

Dennis persisted. "Do you live in a castle then? Cool..."

Natalie sighed resignedly, and pushed away the quill and parchment. "Yes," she said, "we live in a castle. Not as big as this one, of course. We only live in part of it; the Muggles come to see it because it's haunted, you know, and we keep them out of our part with Muggle-Repelling Charms. My mum's really good at those."

Dennis felt his face reddening again. "My family're Muggles, you know," he said, looking down at the table.

"I know," said Natalie. "Oh, don't look like that," she went on after a few seconds' silence. "For goodness sake, this isn't Slytherin House or anything. You belong here just as much as anyone else; at least you can do magic--" Her voice rising in pitch and volume at the last few words, she stopped suddenly, stared at Dennis for a moment, and then slammed her book closed. "I don't know what I'm even doing here!" she said loudly, then lowered her voice to add, "And I don't know why I'm telling you about it."

"I want to hear," said Dennis, caught by the pain in her eyes.

Natalie fixed him with her gaze, her deep blue eyes like bottomless lakes. "When I meet a boggart in the castle at home," she said, "do you know what it turns into?"

"No," said Dennis, his eyes not leaving hers.

"My wand," said Natalie. Dennis must have looked perplexed, because she went on in explanation: "It's what I'm most afraid of, having a wand in my hand and not being able to do spells. Even before I got my wand, the boggarts used to turn into one; somehow they knew. I've never been able to do magic, not the least bit. I was terrified of coming to Hogwarts, and now that I'm here, I'm still terrified."

Dennis was silent a moment, then he said, "But you're here. That counts for something, doesn't it?"

Natalie sighed. "I wish I could be brave like you."

"I think you're braver," said Dennis. Then he laughed, breaking the tension. "And I know you're a lot more coordinated. Did you see me fall into the lake yesterday?"

Natalie laughed too. "I bet when you see the boggart, it'll turn into the giant squid. Right?"

"Actually... no." Dennis considered. "I don't know. We'll see."

Natalie took a deep breath, then let it out. "We will at that." She looked Dennis in the eyes again, her face going serious. "Thanks, Dennis. I really feel a lot better. I'll... see you tomorrow, OK? First Potions class, right?" They said goodnight, and Natalie gathered her school work together and headed for the girls' dormitory.

Dennis thought bed a good idea, and rose to his feet, but his exit was interrupted by a gentle throat-clearing from the other end of the table. "Excuse me," said a tentative voice, and the older girl seated there removed several books from the pile in front of her, so that Dennis could see her face.

He recognized her instantly. "You're Hermione Granger, aren't you?" he said rather breathlessly, moving to sit down across the table from her. "My brother Colin says you're the smartest student at Hogwarts!"

Hermione smiled. "I'll bet he says, 'except for Harry Potter.'"

"Well..." said Dennis, and returned her smile. There was an awkward silence, and then Hermione spoke again.

"I liked what you did just now," she said. "She needed cheering up. I wanted to do something, but I didn't know quite..."

"That's OK," said Dennis. "I don't think you would have been the right one to cheer her up, somehow."

Hermione looked questioning, but Dennis plunged on, changing the topic of conversation. "Hey, do you know anything about dreams?" he asked. "What they mean and that?"

Hermione snorted. "I don't think I'm the right one to ask about dreams, either."

"Well, then, you pick the next subject," said Dennis brightly, and Hermione looked at him intently.

"How much do you know about house-elves?" she said.

********************

Dennis went to sleep that night with legions of oppressed workers marching through kitchens in his head, but nonetheless, his dream came again. The storm had lessened somewhat, but the wind still blew in occasional gusts that nearly knocked Dennis off his feet as he ran down to the lake, and the waves still required a calming charm before the squid would make its appearance.

He found that familiarity made a difference to his degree of panic at its touch and its greeting, as did an unsuspected irritation with the gargantuan mollusk. "I'm not big!" he yelled, ridiculously, over the roar of the wind. "You didn't give me my wish!"

"Your wisssh hasss been granted," the squid returned calmly. "But thessse thingsss take time. Physssically, you will grow, to the limitsss of your biological heritage; none of usss go beyond that, not even Hagrid... not even myssself." The waves rocked with what Dennis realised must be the squid's laughter.

He felt put upon and rather cheated. "Can't I be bigger now?"

"Your heart is bigger," replied the squid. "Do you not feel thisss?" An image of Natalie's smile and her deep blue eyes flashed into Dennis' mind.

"I do," he said wonderingly.

"Then are you ready for your next wisssh?" the squid inquired gently.

Dennis squared his shoulders. "If I can't be bigger," he asked, tentatively, "can I be stronger?"

"Your wisssh is my command," the squid boomed, and the whirlwind came again.

********************

Dennis woke, the first sun on the windows, Snuggles curled next to his cheek. He yawned and stretched, and in an instant his dream flooded back into his memory. Experimentally, he flexed a muscle; but it felt no stronger, and somehow, he had not really expected it to.

Natalie smiled at him as he slid into the seat next to her at the Gryffindor table, but did not speak. Dennis concentrated on swallowing as much breakfast as possible. His cold was vanishing as though charmed away, and he felt unusually hungry. He glanced at his timetable: Potions first thing. Colin had been uncharacteristically reticent about Professor Snape, allowing himself only the one word: "Scary." As Dennis thought his brother the bravest person he knew, this didn't bode well.

After breakfast, he and Natalie, along with the other Gryffindors, left the Great Hall and headed for the dungeons. Snape greeted the class with a scowl, lectured them for a few moments about the importance of potion-making, and then set them to work preparing a Deodorising Decoction: "It may improve the atmosphere in here," he muttered under his breath in a voice the entire class overheard.

Dennis set to work industriously chopping May beetles, then caught a glimpse of Natalie out of the corner of his eye. She was sitting stock-still, staring at the table, paralysed.

"Psst -- Natalie!" whispered Dennis. "It's OK -- no wands, eh?"

She glanced at him, looking grateful but still perturbed. "It's magic, though," she whispered back. "I can't... what if it goes wrong?"

"All you have to do is follow the instructions. I'll help. First you chop six May beetles, then add four grams of shredded rose petals, then ginger roots..." He gestured encouragingly in Natalie's direction, miming a chopping motion. She picked up the knife and began stabbing ineffectually at the beetles.

"No," whispered Dennis, glancing cautiously in Snape's direction; he was at the other end of the dungeon, showing Alina Kramer the correct method of weighing rose petals, and not looking in their direction. "Like this," and he took the knife out of Natalie's hand.

He chopped hurriedly, not wanting to fall too far behind on his own potion, and was concentrating so hard on getting the pieces of beetle evenly sized that he didn't hear Natalie's gasp or see the figure in black robes looming up beside her until it was too late.

"Is there something wrong with your hands, Miss McDonald?" inquired Snape icily, and when Dennis looked up, he went on, "Ah, yes, Mr. Creevey, is it? Another member of that clan who carries the adjective 'helpful' far beyond its natural limits... I would hate to take points from Gryffindor in your very first lesson," but he didn't look as though he would hate it at all. "Do your own work!" he snapped, black eyes flashing, and slammed his hand palm-first on the table.

Natalie, terrified, leapt to her feet, ready to flee the dungeon, but caught the table with her knee; Dennis, who still held the last beetle pinioned with the knife, felt his arm slide sideways as the table tipped, and watched helplessly as Natalie's entire supply of rose petals, beetles, and ginger root slid into the bubbling cauldron. There was a soft whooshing sound, and a huge cloud of pink smoke rose into the air, precipitating itself into tiny rosebud droplets and settling to earth again... mostly over Dennis.

Dennis coughed spectacularly, filling his lungs with rose and ginger, and blinked madly as the potion ran into his eyes. The entire class roared with laughter as he emerged from the cloud, choking. He looked down at himself: every bit of his skin that showed was tinted rosebud pink, his robes were covered with pink polka-dots, and he was literally steaming. He sniffed, and realised that he was exuding the scent of an entire prize-winning rose garden in June, with the brisk odour of ginger mixed in, and he could hear the buzzing of a million insects in his ears. As if he didn't feel horrible enough already, when he raised his eyes, Snape was glaring at him. He had stepped back several paces to avoid the explosion, and had his arms folded across his chest, fingers tapping menacingly.

"Well, Mr. Creevey, this certainly is an improvement -- of sorts -- over the aroma of lake water with which you have been perfuming my classroom until this moment -- BUT..." and he moved forward threateningly, just as Dennis opened his mouth to offer some explanation, however insufficient. All that came out of his mouth, though, was a puff of pink steam, and a very loud burp.

"Really, Mr. Creevey," began Snape, but then he seemed to lose the thread of what he had been saying, and one corner of his mouth quirked up oddly. At first, Dennis found this the most terrifying of any of Snape's facial expressions he'd seen up to that point; then he realised with astonishment that Snape was trying desperately not to laugh. He stared dumbfounded, not daring to move in the slightest in case he should produce any additional cause for amusement; he knew Snape would come down on him harder than ever if the class spotted this small crack in his otherwise impenetrable exterior. But Dennis knew from that moment that he would never truly be afraid of Snape ever again.

Snape regained control over his treacherous mouth, and his eyes glittered dangerously as they swept the class. "Ten points from Gryffindor!" he snapped. "And I can teach you bunch of dunderheads no more today -- class dismissed!"

As the class filed into the corridor, a continual murmur of "Thanks, Dennis" reached Dennis' ears, varying in tone from sarcastic to amused, depending on whether the murmurer was more resentful of the loss of points or pleased at the early dismissal. But there was only one "Thank you" that Dennis was waiting to hear. Natalie caught him by the arm as they reached the freedom of the corridor. "Dennis," she began, looking seriously at him, and then, as he waited expectantly for her to express her undying gratitude, she began to giggle, and then to laugh, and finally, looking happier than he had ever seen her, managed to choke out:

"Don't you think you should take a bath?"

********************

That night, Dennis went to bed with all his clothes on, partly because he didn't dare strip in front of his roommates and show how much of him was still pink, and partly because he expected to dream about the squid again, and wanted to preserve the dignity, not to mention the warmth, of his robes. Naturally, then, when he found himself on the castle steps once more, it was a brilliantly clear and temperate night, with the moon shining like a torch and not a cloud in the sky.

He marched down to the lake, and the squid was there waiting for him. Before it could wave a tentacle or make a noise, though, Dennis burst out shrilly, "You know, I really don't understand what's going on here! I asked to be bigger, and I didn't get any bigger; and then I asked to be stronger, and look at me!" He picked up, with an effort, a medium-sized stone from the shore, and tossed it a few feet into the lake; it sploshed unimpressively. "And all anyone does at school is laugh at me -- and now you're doing it too!" he went on, as the squid uttered its deep, sad chuckle.

"Dennisss," it boomed, as the waters subsided around it, "you will come to underssstand that your capacity for making your fellow creaturesss laugh is one of the mossst valuable qualitiesss you posssesss... but I know thisss isss a difficult thing for you to grasssp now."

You got that straight, Dennis thought rebelliously.

"Asss far asss ssstrength goesss..." the squid went on, "You cannot know what a titanic act of might you performed today in the Potionsss classsroom..."

"What?!" yelled Dennis. "Knocking over Natalie's desk, you mean?"

"No," answered the squid. "I mean thisss..." and into Dennis' mind came an image of Professor Snape's face, brows furrowed, lips tight, and then that helpless quirk of the corner of his mouth. "The force that moved that mussscle half an inch wasss greater than that required to move thisss rock" -- it gestured towards a large island out from shore -- "half a mile or more."

Dennis paused to digest this unlikely thought. He must have looked unconvinced, because the squid went on, "You do not know him asss I do. He isss a ssstubbornly proud and desssperately unhappy man; and he refusssed my gift once, ssso I am glad he hasss accepted yoursss."

Dennis gaped. "You mean -- Professor Snape once... like me? And he didn't..?" His tongue seemed to be refusing to form complete sentences, so he regrouped his thoughts momentarily, and came up with, "What did you do?"

"Nothing," boomed the squid, and with the word came a sigh of appalling, eternal sadness, dredged up from the bottom of the all the seas of the world and spent, futilely, on all the shores. Dennis sank to his knees and put his hands over his face.

"You have one more wisssh..." came the voice again, sadness unchecked, and Dennis sat unmoving, trying to focus his thoughts on what was now evidently less a reward for himself and more a favour for the creature before him. Nevertheless... what to ask? To be as smart as Hermione Granger? As famous as Harry Potter? As brave as Colin?

I shouldn't ask for something for myself, came the voice of his conscience, followed immediately by a less virtuous voice adding Besides, it never works out. Should he wish for Harry Potter to win the Triwizard Tournament? For Colin to join the Quidditch team? For Natalie to find her magical powers? For Professor Snape to be less angry?

Suddenly, he knew, and he put down his hands and looked the squid in the... face, he supposed. "I want you to be happy," he said firmly, and waited for the whirlwind to carry him away, but nothing happened. The squid continued to bob up and down gently in the moon-splashed waves, and Dennis began to feel ridiculous kneeling on the sand, so he rose to his feet. "Didn't you hear me?" he said. "Can't you do that one?"

"I cannot," replied the squid sonorously, and when Dennis looked disappointed, went on, "But you have," and indeed, the reverberating note of sadness in the air was gone, and a fresh scent of a sea breeze -- thank goodness, not roses, Dennis thought -- took its place. For some reason, Dennis knew it as the scent of a memory.

"I mussst go," hissed the squid, and began to sink under the waves, but Dennis cried out, "Wait!" and it paused. "Not alone," said Dennis, despairingly.

"You cannot come with me, child," replied the squid.

"No," called Dennis, "that's not what I meant," and yielding again to the instinctive knowledge that possessed him in these dreams, he pulled his wand from the sleeve of his robes and called out, "Accio Snuggles!" He turned towards the castle, and watched for a moment, until he saw a small, black something whiz around the corner from Gryffindor Tower, then he held out his hand until Snuggles rested securely in his grasp. Still facing away from the squid, he hugged the stuffed toy closely to his chest for a moment, then turned.

"I'd like you to have this," he called, and without waiting for a reply, he threw Snuggles with all his strength towards the water. The squid put out a tentacle and caught the toy as neatly as a Seeker capturing the Golden Snitch. "He made me happy," said Dennis with tears in his eyes, "I think he'll do the same for you."

"ALL your wissshes are granted," boomed the squid, and Dennis felt the whirlwind gather.

********************

The next evening, Dennis sat happily in the big armchair by the fire in Gryffindor common room. It had been a strangely satisfying day.

He had woken with sand in his bed and the sound of waves in his ears; Snuggles was missing from his place on the pillow, and instead there was a small, round, black stone which, when Dennis held it to his face, felt cool and smelled of the sea. In Transfiguration class, Natalie had flinched at the sight of the beetle Professor McGonagall dumped on the table in front of her, but had succeeded in turning it into, if not exactly a button, certainly an insect anyone would be proud to wear on his coat. Dennis had gone grinning down the corridor afterwards, and Professor Snape, catching his eye, had raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. Dinner had been delicious.

As he sat pondering the miracles of the day, Fred and George Weasley approached his hideaway. "We've been looking for you, young Creevey," said Fred pompously.

"Yeah," said George, flashing a grin at him. "We heard you exploded a potion in Snape's class yesterday -- first day too! -- and we've come to pay our respects."

"A man after our own hearts," said Fred. "Worthy to carry on the Weasley tradition."

"Doesn't smell bad either," said George, sniffing the air delicately. He grinned, then strolled away, warbling in a surprising melodious voice:

Come it late or come it soon,

I shall enjoy my rose in June...

Fred watched him go, then looked back at Dennis and winked. "Never knew he had it in him," he said casually. "See you," he called over his shoulder as he followed his twin.

"See you," called Dennis after him, and then he smiled, and got out of his chair, and went to see what Natalie was up to.

The End



Author's Notes: Thanks are due to Rebecca, for assisting in the story's odd genesis, and for support, encouragement, and suggestions; to Cally and Carol, for helpful comments; to Nick, Anna, and Irene, enthusiastic readers; to Alex, who saved Hermione; and to Mark, for his attempt to vanquish my lingering Americanisms. I would never have done it without you. Interpret that as you may.