Title: Harry Potter and the Days of Thunder
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, the song "Road to Mandalay" belongs to Robbie Williams.
Summary: In Harry's fifth year, the ancient Merlin Program takes the Hogwarts students to a faraway land, where new and dangerous adventures awaits. Who are the Knights of the Dragons? Do they have a connection to the mystical girl that haunts Harry's dream? And where does the hammer of Thor fit in this strange tale?
~~*~~
Chapter 1: The Road to Mandalay
Save me from drowning on the sea
Beat me up on a beach
What a lovely holiday
There's nothing funny left to say
In later years, Harry couldn't really account for what happened that summer. The weeks spent at the Dursley's were all bathed in a dreamlike blur. Despite what he had said about looking forward and that what would be, would be, Harry couldn't follow his own advice. Half the time, he expected Voldemort to burst in the front door, and his dreams were haunted by ghostly figures, dark marks, and a ghastly voice that always said the same; "Kill the spare". But who the spare was, changed from dream to dream. Sometimes it was Ron, or Hermione, or Ginny, or even Draco Malfoy. The dreams exhausted him; he woke up, tired as if he had been up all night, studying to a particularly nasty exam, and most of his waken time, he sat alone, thinking. Occasionally, aunt Petunia would make him do things in the garden. He didn't protest, just nodded, and did his chores in silence. He never tried to explain what had happened to the Dursleys. He had long since resigned to the fact that they never would, or could, understand him. But despite the fact that they were the worst muggles on earth, they noticed the changes.
Small things.
Vernon noticed the pressing silence in the car on their way home from King's Cross.
Petunia couldn't help but wonder how it had come to that the emerald green eyes that once had been Lily's trademark, now spent so much time staring into eternity.
Even the Dudley noticed.
The sinister air and deadly silence around Harry scared them, and if they had treated him like a bomb waiting to go off before, it was nothing against now. Most of the time, they left him alone, leaving him to do his own things in his own time.
And this is how it came, that one Saturday evening late in August, that both the Dursleys and Harry was gathered in the living room.
While Dudley and Vernon was watching a movie about the Vietnam war, Petunia was reading one of her gossip magazines. Harry was sitting in on the floor, he too reading.
As a news break came up, Dudley turned, and scowled at Harry.
"What are you reading, freak?"
Harry didn't look up.
"A book."
"I can see that. What book?"
"The horse and his boy."
Dudley snorted.
"Never heard of it. What's it about?"
"A talking horse."
"Horses don't talk!" roared uncle Vernon.
Harry didn't answer, just continued reading.
The Dursleys' attention was pulled back to the television by the voice of the news reporter.
At first, Harry managed to block out the television, but when Dudley wailed and made aunt Petunia turn the volume up, it was hard to continue it.
"...fortunately, no-one has been injured. The official statement is that there is no criminal motive behind the fire, but all indicates towards the opposite, seeing as the mark of the Snakestongue cult was found burned into the grass garden in front of the house. If I'm not mistaken, you have more info on the cult back in the studio. Ted?"
"Thank you, Jessica. As many of our older viewers may know, the Snakestongue cult was responsible for several deaths and fires in the 1970's. The cult has seemingly no political or religious motives, nor pattern, and little is known about them, not even their correct name. The only thing that ties the variety of crimes they have committed together, is their mark, which also have given them their name; a skull with a snake as tongue."
Harry looked up, his eyes widening at the sight of a rough draft of the dark mark
"We will be back with more information on the housefire. But now, back to the movie."
"Damn religious nutters," grunted Vernon.
"Actually, they're not religious," said Harry, still in awe.
"And who appointed you expert? And if not, then what are they?"
"They're-" started Harry, but was interrupted by Aunt Petunia, who was shaking.
"They're like the Potters," she said. "Wizards."
She stood bolt up, and, ran up the stairs.
Vernon stared hatefully at Harry.
"To your room, boy!"
"But-"
"No buts, TO YOUR ROOM!"
~~*~~
Harry had trouble sleeping that night. Why had aunt Petunia reacted that strongly to the dark mark? She wasn't a witch, she didn't know anything about it.
That was not the only thing bothering him. He hadn't heard from neither Ron or Hermione that summer, not even his Hogwarts letter had come yet. He had sent Hedvig out with letters several times, but she had returned without answer every time.
Another thing was the Death Eaters. If they were strong enough for even the muggles to notice, who knew what might had happened in the wizarding world while he was gone?
At last, he fell into worried sleep.
The dream came back that night, but it was different.
They were at the churchyard, he and Cedric.
"Wands out, you reckon?"
Harry could do nothing else than nodding.
It was all so strange. He knew he was dreaming, he knew what was going to happen. He turned, and expected to see the traitorous rat that once had prided himself with the name Wormtail. But he wasn't there.
And just as he was gone, so were the Death Eaters, the cauldron, and the demon baby that became Voldemort every night, in every dream.
All that was left was the churchyard, the two of them, and the silence of the night.
Silence, though?
"Did you hear that?" he whispered.
Cedric didn't answer, just pointed at a small figure with bright, almost white hair lying on the ground in front of them From what Harry could see, it was probably a girl..
"Is she-"
"-Dead? I think so," said Cedric.
But at that moment, the girl coughed, and rolled over. They raced over to her.
She was about fourteen, and even though Harry couldn't pinpoint exactly what, there was something oddly familiar with her.
"Miss?" he said softly. "Miss?"
She slowly opened her eyes, and Harry was almost startled by how blue they were.
"She's hurt pretty bad."
And now, Harry could see that the white dress she was wearing, was flecked with blood.
"It looks like she's been bitten by something, just look."
Cedric pointed at a spot on her chest, where her dress had been ripped, revealing a large bite.
"Is there anything we can do?" asked Harry.
His Hufflepuff companion nodded.
"I can't remember the healing spell, but if you could rip of one of her sleeves, I'll try to bandage her wound."
Harry kneeled beside Cedric, and after some pulling, the sleeve finally came off. But before he could give the Hufflepuff the piece of fabric, a mark on her skin caught his eye.
The Dark Mark.
He looked up at her face, but it was changed. Before his eyes, her hair turned auburn, and her previously sapphire blue eyes were now shining in vicious, predatory green. Nothing on her face was like it had been only seconds ago- it was like it was another girl staring up at him now.
She sat up, her gaze fixed on Harry. She smiled- an alarming smirk, ivory fangs contrasting against blood red lips.
Then-
"Kill the spare."
Flashing green.
Cedric falling to the ground.
A dragon.
A snarling wolf.
Lightning.
And the first girl, the girl with the almost white, almost golden hair.
She was smiling at him, winking, radiating such happiness that Harry never had seen or felt before.
And that was the last image he saw, before falling into a darkness as black as the darkest night.
But when he woke up the next morning, he had no memory or recollection of the dream, only a bad feeling that he had missed something important.
~~*~~
About one week later, it was the sound of an owl tapping on his window that woke Harry up one fine Sunday morning. Or rather, the sound of a white dove tapping on the window. Half asleep, he got up, and let the bird in. It flapped it's wings a few times, and landed on the bed.
Harry walked over to the bed, and sat down beside the bird. Now, he could see that the dove was not only carrying a letter, but also a small parcel stamped with the Hogwarts seal.
Deciding that the school affairs could come second, Harry opened the letter first, and couldn't help but grin upon seeing Hermione's handwriting.
Dear Harry
I'm writing this in a hurry, so you'll have to excuse my writing. By now, you're probably wondering why neither Ron or I have written. But as a matter of fact, we have, and to be quite honest with you, we were nearly giving up, seeing as you didn't answer. Fortunately enough, I (literally) bumped into professor Dumbledore in Disneyland (of all the places for that man to vacation, I always thought that Orlando, Florida would be the least likely place), and he told me that the security around you has been strengthened, and that no letters were allowed through to you. He did agree to send this letter with the school mail, though. :) (thus the hurry)
Speaking of school mail, guess who got their letters just after school ended? The triplets (Which triplets? thought Harry) are ecstatic. As for me- I'm torn between happiness and anxiety, because when all comes to, I don't think McGonagall knows what she were doing when she admitted the terrible trio.
But back to the point- because of the workload the Ministry have gotten this last few months, the Weasleys can't come and get you this year. BUT! the Grangermobile (The what?) will pick you up at noon, August thirtieth, and drive you to Diagon Alley, where Ron, Ginny, Mrs. Weasley and the twins will be waiting for us at the Leaky Cauldron.
But I have to go now- my family's getting impatient (a rain storm's coming on- the weather here is so shifty!).
Love, Hermione (who really hope that you're okay)
PS: Dumbledore told me to tell you that Snuffles is all right- he's still in hiding.
Harry grinned as a mental image from last summer came back to him- professor Dumbledore stretched out on a beach, rubbing sun-tanning lotion on his long nose. However, it was soon replaced by Hermione in a bikini, rubbing- WAIT A MINUTE! Hermione in a bikini? Where the bloody Mary did that come from?
Shaking that very strange, but still very fascinating thought away from his head, Harry opened the parcel from Hogwarts. Emptying the contents on the table, he couldn't help frown as a circular object engraved with the letter 'P' rolled out on the table. The other things in the parcel was a small book entitled 'Hogwarts School Rules', and the usual school letter:
Dear Mr. Potter
Please note that the new school year is starting on September 1st. The Hogwarts Express will be leaving from King's Cross, track 9 and ¾ at eleven o'clock.
I am also pleased to inform you that you have been chosen prefect for Gryffindor.
Enclosed is your badge, the list of rules and regulations of Hogwarts, and a list of required things for the new year.
Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonnogall
Required items for all fifth years:
School Uniform:
- Travelling cloak
- Dress Robes/Dress/Suit
Set Books:
- The Way to Valhalla- the life and culture of northern wizards though the times
- Oh What Ludicrousy!- a guide to taking your OWLs
- The Standard book of Spells (grade 5)
- Transmogrify my butt- Handy Magic for Teenagers
- Hairy Snout, Human Heart
Harry was about to open the Rule book when a sharp rap on his door announced that aunt Petunia was up, and expecting him to help with breakfast. He quickly put the letters under some books, and got dressed.
***
"And then, the Frenchie said: I wish the two others were back here!" Uncle Vernon roared with laughter of his own joke.
It was August twenty-ninth, a week after the letter had arrived, and Harry still hadn't told the Dursleys. It was a rather hot day, and the family was out in the garden, barbecuing. Despite the fact that Dudley was still on a diet, the hamburgers were practically dripping with fat. Harry, however, only got some dry slices of bread with a baked potato to eat.
"Say," said Dudley between two mouthfuls of meat, "aren't you starting that freak school of yours soon?"
Harry looked up from his 'food'.
"Yeah- the school train leaves from King's Cross on Monday."
Vernon grunted.
"If you think I'm going to drive you, you're wrong. I have work."
Harry shook his head.
"You won't have to- a friend of mine and her family is picking me up tomorrow."
The table fell silent- Dudley even stopped chewing. Apparently, the Weasley incident from last year was still not forgotten.
"Don't worry, they are mu-, I mean, normal."
"And they'll pick you up by car?"
Harry nodded, seriously hoping that the so-called Grangermobile indeed was a car.
Aunt Petunia snorted, but didn't say anything.
***
At noon the next day, Harry was sitting on the Dursleys' stairs, anxiously waiting for the Grangers to arrive. His school things were piled next to the door, and the pockets of his way-too-large jacket were filled with the money that was left from last year. However, fifteen minutes later, they still weren't there, and the Dursleys (who were waiting in the kitchen) were getting just as impatient as they had been last year. Dudley had refused to come downstairs- and when all came to, Harry couldn't really blame him. He only hoped that none of them would get cursed this time around.
"Erm... I'm sure they were just stuck in traffic," he said, more to himself than to the people in the kitchen. "I'm going to go upstairs and check if I forgot something."
He hobbled upstairs, and into the small bedroom. No sooner had he checked the loose floorboard, than the doorbell rang.
He hurried down the stairs, and stopped midway when aunt Petunia opened the door.
"Hello, my name is Hermione Granger, and I-"
"I'm sorry, we aren't buying anything."
"No wait, I'm not selling anything! I'm here to pick up Harry."
"Harry?"
"Yes, Harry Potter. This is number 4, Privet Drive, right?"
Dudley appeared beside Harry.
"You go to a co-ed. school?"
Harry nodded.
"Cool."
Aunt Petunia regained her senses, and nodded.
"Boy!"
"I'm right here," said Harry, and walked down the stairs. He tried to gather up his things, but the trunk was so heavy, that between it, Hedvig's cage and his bookbag, he fell over.
"Want some help with that?"
He looked up, and blushed. Petunia had let Hermione into the hall, and she was now staring down at him, only wearing a skimpy blue sundress, and a matching hat. She was very tanned, and her usually all-brown hair was now streaked with sun-bleached stripes.
"Erm...yeah.
He quickly got up while Hermione lifted Hevig's cage, then turned towards the Dursleys.
"Well- bye then."
The Dursleys didn't answer. Aunt Petunia just stared at the floor, uncle Vernon peaked out the window (probably trying to figure out what kind of car 'the Grangermobile' was), and Dudley was just staring at Hermione, apparently lovestruck.
"Shall we go then?" Hermione asked.
No one cares if I stay anyway, thought Harry.
"Yes."
The Grangermobile was indeed a car. To be exact, it was a seven-seat mini-van. The trunk was open, and in front of it stood a woman that Harry recognised as Hermione's mother, although she looked far less nervous now than last time he saw her, in Diagon Alley.
"Hello, Harry," she said.
"Hello, Mrs. Granger."
"No, please, just call me Michelle. Now, you two just get into the car, I'll take you things for you." She grabbed his things, and started to put them in the trunk. He could hear Crookshanks splutter as Hedvig's cage was put on top of his basket.
Hermione grabbed his hand, and dragged him around the car.
"Come on," she said.
The two of them climbed into the car.
"Ouh, holding hands now, are we?" said a voice from the back seat.
Harry turned, and looked into no less than three younger versions of Hermione, only with respective straight hair, braids and curls.
Hermione frowned.
"May I introduce the terrible trio- Helena, Hero, and Hecate."
"Which is which?" Harry asked befuddled.
"I'm Hero," said the one with the braids. She gestured to the one beside her, with the curls, who was blowing a bubble with her bubblegum. "This is Hecate."
"And I'm Helena," said the last one. Harry couldn't help but notice that the three of them had a strong Manchester-accent, unlike Hermione, whose only linguistic peculiarity was a sometimes annoying habit of pronouncing every last syllable in a word.
"Hermione, Helena, Hero and Hecate," mused Hermione. "Sense a pattern?"
"All 'H'-names from Shakespeare plays," said Mrs. Granger, who had gotten into the car, and was starting the engine. "Although, it wasn't really intentionally at first. My husband gave the collected works while I was pregnant with the triplets, and we chose names from our favourite plays."
Hecate popped her bubblegum.
"Macbeth, A Midsummer Night's Dream, and Much Ado About Nothing," she said, counting on her fingers.
"They didn't even know that the name Hermione was used in a play," said Helena.
"Or so they claim," muttered Hermione.
The triplets began chattering, and Mrs. Granger concentrated on the road.
"So," said Hermione, "how was your summer?"
Harry quickly filled her in on aunt Petunia's reaction to the news about the Death Eaters. Hermione, however, seemed more interested in the fact that the group now was noted by the muggles than Petunia's reaction.
"Well, think about it, Harry. It's only natural that your aunt acted like that. After all, this group's leader killed her sister, and, despite the fact that the two of them weren't the best of friends, it would still have some effect on her, right?"
"I know, but I just can't shake off this feeling that I've overlooked something."
She patted his back.
"Don't worry about that, Harry. You have enough on you mind as it is."
"You're right, it's probably nothing."
"With your aunt- yes. With the Death Eaters- no. In fact, that could be really serious. What if-"
Harry interrupted her before she could say any more.
"Heard anything from Ron lately?"
"Directly, no. After I mentioned that I might spend a week at Victor's, he's refused to even read my letters." She paused for a moment. "Ginny's written, though. According to her, things are pretty wild over at the Burrow nowadays. Mr. Weasley and Bill have been coming and going at the oddest hours, Percy's practically moved in over at the ministry, and on top of that, Charlie got married in late June."
"Charlie? Married?"
Hermione nodded.
"Yes. Apparently, he met some American witch down in the Romanian dragon camp. They got married a month after they met, in France. Very romantic, according to Ginny."
Harry scoffed.
"Of course she thinks it's romantic, she's a girl."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"And I bet she has cooties to," she said, imitating Harry's voice, and he couldn't help but laugh. Hermione smiled back, a soft, caring smile.
"It's good to hear you laugh, Harry. God knows, if last term's events is telling us what is yet to come, we're going to need all the comic relief we can get." The expression on her face was sad, and Harry could tell that he wasn't the only one who had been haunted by the third task during the summer.
There was an awkward silence, which was broken by Mrs. Granger's voice.
"Hermione, could you take a look at the map, and check the quickest route through London?"
"Of course, Mum," she said, and dried her eyes, laughing nervously.
As Hermione absorbed herself in the map, Hecate leaned forward, and stuck her head out over the seatback. She stared at Hermione for a moment or two, and then turned to Harry.
"She's been like tha' all summer. Usually, you can' stop her mouth for two seconds, always talkin' about school year." She made a whistling sound. "But this summer- no' a single word, and every time someone mentions Hogwarts, she gets all teary-eyed."
Helena, who also had her head stuck out nodded.
"So wha' did 'appen last year? Her boyfriend stood her up?"
Hermione's head snapped up.
"My love-life is none of your business, Hel, so shut up. Here, Mum, this is the best way," she said. "Oh, and by the way, Harry, here's you gift."
She handed him a small box wrapped in broomstick-textured paper, which had been lying on the car floor.
"I had it handmade in Verb Alley, the wizard street in Orlando. I wished you had gotten it in time for you birthday, but I didn't take the risk of sending it all the way from Florida, and besides- you wouldn't have gotten it anyway. Go ahead- open it!"
He opened the box, and couldn't help but gasp as he saw the gift.
It was a wizard watch, with four pointers- one labelled 'Hermione', the other 'Ron', the third 'Snuffles', and the last one with his own name. Like was normal with wizards watches, there was text instead of numbers, although it was different from the one the Weasleys had. Of course, it had the standard ones, like 'school', 'home', and 'travelling', and some unexpected, but none the less practical, like 'out fighting evil', 'Snape's around the corner', and 'flying'. However, some of the text was not just strange, but outright alarming.
"'Drunk out of your mind'?"
He stared at Hermione.
She shrugged.
"Trust me, it'll come in handy one day."
"What? You planning on emptying the Three Broomstick's bar soon?"
"Very funny. I just... had to decide on something, and that's the only thing I managed to come up with."
"'Kicking Malfoy butt' ?"
"I don't know about you, but I'm definitely planning on doing that one," she answered, winking. "I've decided that this year, I'll do less worrying and more Malfoy-kicking."
"Ok, I can, too a certain extent, understand both the drunk, and the kick-butt ones. But honestly- 'slow dancing, french kissing'?"
Hermione blushed, and gales of laughter sounded from the backseat as Hecate hugged herself and made kissing noises.
Hermione picked up the wrapping paper, and threw it at her.
"Mum, she's throwing things at me!"
Mrs. Granger snorted.
"When you do things like that, you deserve to get thrown at. But stop fighting now, we're here now."
Hermione looked out of the window.
"Mum, it's not here, it's two blocks away, on Charing Cross Road."
"I know, honey, but this is the only free parking space. We'll just walk down there."
"But what about our things? After all, we can't just go strolling down the street with five trunks, bags, an owl and a cat. That would be extremely bad for the muggle security cause."
"I'll drive it down later, don't worry. Now let's go, we're already late."
***
While both Harry, Hermione and Mrs. Granger had been to the Leaky Cauldron before, the triplets hadn't, so they were naturally amazed. While Mrs. Granger and Hermione reserved rooms for the lot of them, the three of them used the time to look around the Leaky Cauldron. Especially Helena seemed to find the clientele fascinating. Harry really couldn't blame her- after all, it was one thing to hear that one was a wizard or witch, another was to see a hag and a goblin sharing a bottle of Odgen's Old Firewhisky, while puffs of smoke rose from the brand logo, a Hebridean Black. Harry couldn't help but finding the sight interesting himself, but before he managed to find out exactly how a drawing could emit smoke, a loud voice caught his attention.
"Harry! Oy, Harry, old fella!"
He turned, and found himself face to face with Charlie Weasley.
"Charlie!" said Hermione, who had walked up beside Harry.
The red-head beamed at her.
"Hermione, how are you? Fine I hope? And this must be your mother? Nice to meet you, Mrs. Granger!"
Mrs. Granger smiled politely, and shook his hand.
"And you must be Charles Weasley. I heard Hermione mention that you got married this summer, congratulations. I wish the two of you all the happiness in the world."
"Please, just call me Charlie. And thank you, we're very happy. Anyway, the rest of my family is waiting down at Fortesque's ice cream parlour. My mother thought it was too nice weather to wait inside, so she and Kerry dumped me here to wait for you." He massaged his temples, as though he had a headache. Turned towards Harry and Hermione, he sighed. "I can feel the two of them plotting against me at this very moment. My mother and my own wife- tsk, tsk."
"Oh come on, it can't be that bad, can it?" Hermione said.
"Kerry," said Charlie, "get better along with Mum than I do." Then he gave them an all-saying look.
If the triplets had been awe-struck by the Leaky Cauldron, it was nothing against how they reacted to Diagon Alley. Even though the Ice-cream parlour was only a short walk away, it took them almost fifteen minutes to get there, seeing as the triplets would stop at every other step, admiring the old buildings, pointing out interesting shops, or giggling at all the men dressed in robes ("I tell you, my bes' friend Jenny has a dress jus' like it!" was Helena's response upon seeing Ernie Macmillan, who was dressed in pastel blue robes).
The ice-cream parlour was buzzing with customers, as one would expect on a sunny day, but spotting the Weasleys wasn't hard. The red-headed family took up two whole tables to themselves, and Harry guessed that now that the Grangers joined them, they would need another one. Even though Hermione had said that only Mrs. Weasley and the youngest Weasley children were coming, it seemed that large parts of the family was there.
There was small, plump Mrs. Weasley, the twins, Fred and George, Ginny, the oldest Weasley brother- Bill, and an ash-blonde witch, whom Harry assumed was Kerry. Ron was nowhere in sight, but Harry could swear that he had seen his tall gangly friend going into the men's room.
As they walked over, Mrs. Weasley got up, and greeted them heartily.
After giving Harry a hug, she looked him up and down, and tutted.
"Young man, you are too thin! Haven't those relatives of yours been feeding you enough?" She shook her head. "If I'd known, I'd have sent you food."
As Harry and Hermione sat down, Ginny sighed.
"She's been worrying sick about you all summer. I swear, the whole lot of us could have fallen into a black whole and disappeared into outer space, she wouldn't have noticed. Harry this- Harry that! No offence Harry, but it's getting rather tiresome. Speaking of outer space- Hermione, how was Florida?"
The two girls trailed of into a conversation about America, and Harry turned his attention towards the other people at the table. Fred and George were talking to the triplets, telling them about the terribly hard and painful sorting ceremony, receiving a variety of reactions; the anxious look on Helena's face, the mischief shining from Hecate's eyes, and Hero's more or less critical reaction; only a lifted eyebrow. Bill and Charlie were discussing a new line of broomsticks, while Mrs. Weasley was introducing Kerry to Hermione's mother.
"-must say, lovely to meet you, Mrs. Granger."
"And the same to you, Kerry. So, when are you expecting?"
Harry hadn't noticed it before, but now that Mrs. Granger pointed it out, he did see that Kerry was pregnant.
"Late February, and I can't wait. I've already started looking for baby things, and to think, one month ago, I didn't even know that they made Dolce and Gabbana robes, let alone for infants!"
"Quite extraordinary," said a voice from beside Harry. "Through the course of a month, Charlie and Kerry have managed to do what others use years to do: They get together, work together, sleep together, move in together, and get married. I wouldn't be surprised if that baby of theirs decide that nine months is way too long, and come shooting out some time around Halloween."
Harry turned, only to see that his best friend had slid into the seat between him and Hermione.
"I take it we are not in a very good mood today, Ron?"
"No, everything's just peachy with me."
"Oh, and here I was thinking you perhaps had laid down and died during the summer," said Hermione, who also had noticed Ron now.
"Hello, Hermione. I see you have developed a nice tan- certainly proving my theory that the sun also rises in Bulgaria."
Before she could answer, Bill stood up, thereby distracting the whole table.
"Well, I'll have to get down to Gringotts now, seeing as my lunch break is over. Charlie, Kerry, see you at dinner. Mrs. Granger- absolutely spiffing to meet you, and the rest of you- have a good term. And Mum- don't. Worry. Okay?"
As Bill left the table, Mrs. Granger glanced at her watch, and apparently, both she and Mrs. Weasley found that it was time to get their school things. After a short conference, it was decided that the two mothers, Ginny and the triplets, who all had errands down at Gringotts, should go together. The twins took off on their own, and Kerry and Charlie went back to the Burrow (at least that was what they said when Fred, to Hecate's delight, hugged himself and pretended to make out with someone). Harry had a feeling that the two of them would get along well.
This left Hermione, Harry, and Ron.
"So," said Hermione, "do you two need to go to Gringotts?"
Harry put a hand in his pocket, and quickly calculated that he had enough money to buy his school things, and still have enough to get himself a butterbeer.
"Not me," he said. "Ron?"
The gangly youth shook his head.
"Nope- Fred and George lent me some gold earlier."
"Gold? Where did they get enough galleons to lend it away?"
Ron shrugged. "I reckon Bagman finally paid up, but the two of them refuse to answer when I ask, so..."
Hermione sighed. "I really hope it's nothing illegal. So-where to first? Madame Malkins, or Flourish and Blotts?"
"Hmm... That's like choosing between being stinged, burned, or bitten." Ron said. Hermione gave him a look very reminiscent of professor McGonagall, and tried to elbow him. She missed though, and Ron laughed like mad.
"Please," said Harry. "No blast-ended screwt-jokes, please! I had enough traumatising experiences last year, and if you are going to make jokes over the worst of them all, the screwts, I might just lay down and die on this very spot."
Ron stopped laughing, and Hermione put a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Harry... If there's anything... you can tell us, you know."
For a split second, Harry pondered whether or not to tell them about the returning dreams, but quickly decided against it. After all, his scar hadn't hurt, so it couldn't possibly be important, right?
"Don't worry Hermione, I'm fine." In his quiet mind, he hoped that neither of his friends could see the lie on face.
Ron shot him a sceptical look. "M-hm?"
"Don't look at me like that, I said I'm fine!"
Hermione sighed. "We'll have to take for it, then. Now, let's get our books, shall we?"
Without Harry or Ron noticing, she had steered them into Flourish and Blotts, and before they even registered what happened, she had disappeared between the large, dusty bookshelves.
Ron looked at Harry with a lost look in his eyes.
"Harry, I hate to break this too you, but I think we're stranded in the middle of Hermione-land."
Harry gaped in mock-alarm.
"Oh, the horror!"
Luckily enough for the two boys, the manager of the shop, Arnold Blotts, hurriedly came to their aid. With the aid of a few Accio-spells, the two of them soon had each their bag full of books. Seeing as Hermione was nowhere in sight, the two of them sat down on the steps in front of the shop, and waited.
It took about ten minutes before Hermione emerged from the bookstore, two large bags filled with books in her hands, and a disgruntled look on her face.
As the three of them continued down the street, Ron asked her why the sour look.
"I saw Malfoy up on the second floor- he was standing there with Pansy Parkinson, boasting of his-"
"Libido?" suggested Ron.
"- new racing broom."
"Malfoy got a new broom?"
"Yes. From what I deduced, something called a Twigger 90. You know," she sighed, "I'd really like to know where the Malfoys get their riches from. I mean, it's not like they do anything for a living. Old money, perhaps?" She looked to Ron for confirmation, but got none.
"Beats me," said Ron as they walked into Madame Malkins, where they were greeted by the old matrone herself, the always smiling Coco Malkin.
Ron and Harry were quickly fitted for a dress robe and a travelling cloak each, and while Hermione, whose statue and figure had changed (to the better, Ron and Harry later would agree on) during the summer was fitted for new school robes too, they picked out fabric for their dress robes. Harry quickly decided on bottle green, not unlike the one he had last year, but Ron, who for the first time in his life could choose exactly what he wanted, used longer time.
"Purple, perhaps?" he asked Harry with a quizzical look.
Harry shrugged.
"Don't ask me, ask Hermione. She's a girl, she should know these things."
Ron's face darkened, but seeing as Harry didn't give him any advice, he turned towards their female friend. "Hermione?"
Not even bothering to turn around and see the fabric, she simply answered:
"If you turn up with purple robes, Ron, I'll refuse to even talk to you."
"White, then?"
"If you want to look like a choirboy, go ahead."
Ron's ears went red.
"Then what do you expect me to wear? Nothing perhaps? Should I stroll around naked?"
"As entertaining as that would be, no. How about trying navy blue? I have a good feeling about that colour."
Ron mumbled something about witches who were colour-blind, but ended up with that colour anyway, causing Hermione to grin smugly as they walked down to the Leaky Cauldron.
***
They had dinner in one of the private parlours that evening. Or to be more precise- two of the parlours. While Mrs. Granger, Mrs. Weasley and the girls sat in one, Ron, Harry and the twins shared another.
"So," said Ron as their meal was served, "did she tell you anything?"
"Who?"
"Doris Crockford!"
"Heh?" Harry replied, whereupon Ron hit him on the forehead with his hand.
"Hermione, of course, who else?"
"Oh, Hermione. What about her?"
"Did she tell you anything about her summer? Like..."
Harry stared at him.
"Like what?"
"Like if she did visit Krum or not! Ginny knows, but she won't tell me anything. It's so frustrating!"
For a brief while, they sat in silence, before Ron once more spoke.
"So- did she?"
Harry couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's persistence.
"No, she didn't tell me anything. Satisfied?"
Ron grimaced.
"I just can't see what she sees in that guy. I mean, sure, he's the best seeker in the world -current company excluded, of course-, smart and polite, likes to dance. But does he have-"
"-red hair? Lots of freckles? An incredibly stupid way of showing his feelings?" interrupted George.
Harry and Ron turned, only to see the twins staring at them.
"What do you mean?" said Ron.
Fred sighed heavily.
"Oh, come on, Ronniekins! No need to hide it for us!"
"Hide what? I'm not hiding anything, here, look in my pockets, nothing here," said Ron frenetically.
"Except for the fact that you fancy Hermione?" suggested George.
The youngest red-head stared back.
"Me? Fancy her? As ever! We're just friends. Come on Harry, back me up here, will you?"
Harry shook his head.
"I'm sorry Ron, but I'm afraid I will have to go with the twins on this one."
Ron threw his hands up in exasperation.
"Betrayed! Betrayed by my own best friend, and my brothers!"
The twins simply laughed, and Fred began chanting 'Ron and 'Ermione sitting in a tree,
K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"
Ron immediately hushed him.
"What, afraid that she'll hear you?"
"Noo, I just...yes," said Ron meekly.
Fred leaned over and put an arm around his brother's shoulders.
"Don't worry, Ron. We'll help you get the girl. After all, the two of you are fated to be. Right, Harry?"
"Of course!" Harry exclaimed, and under the dim candlelight, the four of them started plotting on how to win the fair Hermione's affections.
