1 Author's Note: I've been writing this chapter for a good total of four
hours, and it's still only 5000 words. Well, that's alright, ch.8 was long.
Oh, yeah. I don't own these characters, sadly. *weep*
2 Chapter 9
3 Hagrid's Lisa
A few days passed and Harry found himself sitting with Hermione in the library on a cold Friday evening. She was absorbed in a book (Harry read the spine of the book and it was '1001 Arabian Nights', a book he had never read). Harry, meanwhile, was just there since Hermione was.
Harry leaned forwards on the desk and sighed. His breath rustled the pages of Hermione's book, and she glanced up at him.
" Oh, you're still here, Harry?" She asked, surprised.
" Where else would I be?" He smiled.
" I don't know. I didn't think you'd sit there, staring at me." She put the book down and leaned on her hand. " Is there anything new? Did you even get any research done on why You-Know-Who might need English Whitescales? You can do that, if you have nothing better to do."
Harry shrugged. " I didn't find anything new, so I guess I will look it up."
" Mmm. Good idea." Hermione's eyes were plastered to the book again and she was whispering the words to herself as she read, smiling.
Harry got up and looked around the library. He didn't quite know which corner to look through. There was the entire row of books on Magical Creatures, and finally, he headed towards there.
He traced the dusty, cracked spines of the books with his finger, then stopped upon a certain book, his eyes widening. It had, in big fancy letters, the words: 'English Whitescales'. He slowly pulled it out and then blew on the cover.
His breath made a circle in the dust and he slowly opened the book. There wasn't much dust on it compared to the other books. It must have been taken out not that long ago.
He suddenly looked at the inside left cover. Someone's name was written, but it had blurred. The pages were wrinkled, as if dropped in the rain.
He finally maid out a few letters, with the letters he couldn't make out represented as blanks:
_eb_o_a_
The words were written messily and he wondered whose name it could have been. He wasn't familiar with any names that had those letters in them.
He carried the book back to the table at which Hermione sat. She looked up at him and asked:
" What have you got there, Harry? You couldn't have possibly found a good source so quickly."
" I have." He replied, and showed her the ancient-looking book. " It doesn't belong to the library though. It must be one of the students' personal books, returned to the library by accident. Do you recognize the name?"
Hermione looked at the watery, distilled ink and shook her head. " It's too blurry." She flipped to the first page, where a clear picture of the dragon was depicted. It looked beautiful, yet fierce.
The picture was old, probably painted in the fourteenth or fifteenth century, judging by the style. Yet, it had this interesting glow to it. The dragon was directly in the middle, and beside it, like a frightened cowering ant, was a knight. The knight's armor had purposely been dulled by the artist's brush, making it look almost muddled. There was a sheen sort of glow to the dragon's scales instead, and a handsome glimmer in the dragon's eyes. Whoever had painted it would have rooted for the dragon to win if they were to see the knight and dragon fight it out.
" It's a nice painting." Hermione said. " I wonder who did it?" The water had blurred away the name of the artist, as well, but she did catch the date on it. Harry was right, it was from the fourteenth century, and it was an oil painting.
Harry flipped the page for her, and they both began to read (he was reading over her shoulder) the text of the book, which was set in a lovely old-fashioned type:
'The English Whitescale (Dragnificus Purinus):
Known to have originated from the northern
parts of England, these likeness of these
creatures is often depicted on the Muggle
custom of coats-of-arms for knights. They
are generally distinguished from others by
the main features:
A sturdy, long neck.
A delicate skull that is set with double
rows of razor-sharp teeth.
The lack of a hind finger on the forelegs,
most likely due to the inbreeding this species
suffered after the Dragon Scare.
Scales that are pure white and reflective
of the sun. Men who sighted this described
how the beast's scales would blind them
before they could capture it.
In all, these creatures are oddly familiar
to the Scottish Green-eyes, which had gone
extinct in 1436, but whom we recognize from
paintings.'
Harry stopped reading and then said: " I don't think this first section will tell us much for what this dragon might be useful for if captured by a dark lord."
" I agree." Hermione slammed the book shut, then opened to the index in back. She traced with her finger to where she found: 'Uses. . . use of scales, of blood, of bones. . .'
She flipped to the page and read:
'English Whitescales have many uses.
Their scales can be ground to a fine powder
and then mixed with unicorn blood. In doing
so, one can become even immortal. The dragon
has to be exactly a hundred years old for their
scales to achieve this quality. Before or past
that age, for an unexplained reason, the powder
will have no effect on the one who wishes to be
immortal.'
" That's weird." Harry whispered. " Of course, Voldemort - er, You- Know-Who, would want to be immortal. But how could he have known that the English Whitescale would be a hundred, or whatever?"
" He didn't."
" Huh?" Harry looked at Hermione.
" He couldn't have known. That's why he must have seaked into the office of Timothy Rower, and had taken the papers on the English Whitescale - to know it's age!" Hermione laughed. "Aha! I knew it! And then Timothy must have come into the office and caught You-Know-Who, and then You-Know- Who killed him." Hermione's voice dropped to a whisper. " Harry, this is huge! I can't believe we came to these conclusions so early!"
" Neither can I." Harry replied, gloomily, for he wished he could tell Hermione much more from what he learned from Ron. But he had a promise with Ron, and a promise that crossed that one with Hermione.
He was confused and stuck between his friends.
Hermione said: " I wonder if You-Know-Who got a dragon from somewhere yet. Does Charlie keep contact with other Whitescale keepers? Maybe one of their dragons had vanished mysteriously." Hermione's eyes were clouded with thought.
" There's more to the uses of the dragon." Harry told her, and then read from the book:
' English Whitescales have blood that
can be used to make one's power twice as
great. This feat had only been successful
with a very few great and powerful wizards.
One man who had used this potion, at an
early age, was Albus Dumbledore, in making
a severe promise that he will always be
strong and fight against Voldemort.'
Harry stopped, his eyes widening. " Dumbledore drank the blood!" He exclaimed, then turned to Hermione. " That means he might know more about these dragons then we do."
" I suppose. But would you dare to talk to him about it?" Hermione asked.
" No." Harry turned red. " I don't think he'd even want to talk about it. That's sort of a very private thing, you know. I doubt that Dumbledore would want us to know."
" Yeah, I guess." Hermione read on for him: " Look at this. . .
' English Whitescales' bones,
especially the marrow, had been used in
making charms. The charms, supposedly,
would then be possessed with either an evil
or a good spirit. Many of Voldemort's followers
were found wearing such charms, and some
believe Voldemort had tried to brainwash
them with the evil spirit dwelling in the charms
to follow him.'
" Wow! This book is fabulous!" Hermione hugged the book to her. " Oh, Harry, this is practically priceless information! I can't believe I'm actually reading this! This could open so many doors!"
He grinned. " Glad you, uh, like it."
She pushed aside 'A 1001 Arabian Nights' and plopped down the thick book on English Whitescales in its place. " I'll read this through, thoroughly, and I'll most likely get back to you on some of this stuff by next week." Hermione said.
" You can read a book like THIS in a WEEK?" Harry was amazed.
" Sure." Hermione shrugged, as if it were nothing, simply a ten-page- long children's book. " It's not too bad. I could read it quicker then that, even, but I don't think I should put my schoolwork on hold for this."
" You're right." Harry stood up, his eyes on the clock hanging from the wall. " Oh, man! It's seven!" He feverishly loaded his notebook and quill into his school bag and then seeing Hermione's questionable look, he explained:
" I was going to see Hagrid today. He wanted to talk to me."
" Oh." Hermione nodded. " Well, then, see you tomorrow. I'll probably hit the sack by the time you come back."
Harry gave her a light hug and told her goodnight, then headed outside.
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*
The night air was frosty, and Harry immediately realized that fall was taking over full-blast. It was going to be October in just a very few days, and then Halloween, and before he'd know it then Christmas would be in the air, with children holding candy canes and people caroling and him spending the holidays at Hermione's house. It had been settled, after all, that he'd spend the Christmas holidays with Hermione and her family. He looked forwards to it, though he could feel the blood rush to his cheeks at the thought he would spend an entire holiday vacation with Hermione.
Harry stumbled through a thick growth of ferns and then realized something was glistening in the moonlight. He picked it up. It was a letter. He opened it, out of plain curiosity, and his heart stopped seeing it was his letter to Sirius. He had been lucky that nobody had found it.
Now the whole incident was clear: the brief disappearance of Hedgwig was just a red herring and it had nothing to deal with the mystery. It was the death of Sirius' owl that put Rebecca on a pedestal with a huge black sign over her neck: GUILTY.
Of course, Harry now realized that poor Hedgwig must have dropped the letter, and not being able to find it, she had cowered away in shame inside the comforting owlery.
Hedgwig had probably hurt her wing when she was searching for the letter, since Harry could see a great deal of jagged twigs and rocks pointing from the grass. The Quidditch field had been neglected over the summer and Hagrid, the gamekeeper (and the one who oftentimes helped clean up the fields) had been off in Hogsmeade now more then when he was inside Hogwarts.
Hagrid's hut was a shining star at the end of the endless field. Harry knocked on the door with his left hand, while shoving the letter to Sirius back inside his pocket.
The door opened and Hagrid looked at Harry, his black beard actually a bit combed down today. He smelled very nice, as if he had taken a long time applying cologne.
" Hey, Hagrid." Harry rubbed his hands together, his teeth chattering. "Sure is c-c-cold out today."
" Aye. Yer lucky that it ain't like back seven years ago, before ye came to Hogwarts. It snowed mid-fall, I tell ya." Hagrid moved aside from the door, realizing that while he was talking he'd been blocking the doorway from poor Harry.
Harry stumbled inside, rosy-cheeked, and then closed the massive door behind him. Harry's eyes immediately fell onto Hagrid's table. Three white doiles - doilies! - were spread out neatly across it.
" Doilies, Hagrid?" Harry exclaimed.
" Blimey, Harry, don't ya think it's 'bout time I added some cheer to this 'ere home?" Hagrid turned to him, his eyes twinkling.
" This isn't like you. What's going on?" Harry asked the tall man.
" Suppose it's 'bout time I told you why I've been off to Hogsmeade so much." Hagrid admitted.
" I'm listening." Harry sat down on a huge brown leather chair in the corner of the room and then propped an elbow on the gigantic wooden table. He felt the lumpy doily beneath it and held it up. It was hand-made. " Wait. Who made these for you? I don't think you could hold a needle too well, to make this design." Harry's finger ran over the flower-pattern.
" That be part of what I'm trying to tell you. 'Ere I am, babblin' again. I don't think I should worry you, Harry. It's me own problem." Hagrid heaved himself down onto the other side of he table. He glanced at the boiling cauldron hanging over the fire, and added: "Maybe you'd like some tea?"
" No thanks." Harry replied. " Tell me what's going on."
" Yer too stubborn." Hagrid grumbled. " I s'pose it's nothin' big, just yer average everyday happenings, and all, but it's big to me, and. . ."
" You're babbling again." Harry smiled.
" Oh! Sorry." Hagrid's string of words was cut off neatly and he got down to business: " Ya see, Harry, I got really interested into wood carvin', that you know, right?"
Harry nodded. The pot over the fire fizzled loudly and then a thin mist of bubbles frothed over the side. Hagrid shot up to his feet and pulled the cauldron off the fire and then hastily set a mug onto the table while pouring himself some water into it with his other hand. He glanced up at Harry and said: " Yer sure you ain't got the hankerin' for tea? It'll clean yer insides out."
" My insides are fine." Harry assured him. " Now, keep going."
" Alright, alright." Hagrid sipped at the hot tea, then said: "Well, it ain't the greatest o' hobbies, wood carvin', 'specially since I never done it before an' all."
" I guess you're right." Harry said, impatiently.
" So, naturally, I wanted to get me some 'elp." Hagrid explained, then dipped his finger under the loop of the little silver sugar container and scooped some sugar into his tea.
" They offer help for wood carving?" Harry was awed. He knew there were art classes and there was pottery instruction, but he didn't know there was wood carving help.
" 'Course there is!" Hagrid slammed his mug down. " Decent course, I went through, but didn't feel right. So, I took 'nother course."
" Uh-uh." Harry watched Hagrid swirl his spoon through his tea. Hagrid looked nervous.
" Yer sure you ain't feelin' like gettin' some . . ." Hagrid began.
" No tea!" Harry raised his voice sharply, then added: " Sorry, it's just I don't feel like tea. Honestly."
" Maybe you feel like an egg?" Hagrid asked.
" No, I feel like a Harry." Harry kidded, then added: " Hagrid, stop delaying. So you took another help course, and what happened?"
" What happen'd was this: the new instructor was this great girl, her name's Lisa." Hagrid smiled fondly. " She's half giant, yer know. Tall like me, strappin', well built lady."
Harry realized where the conversation was going. " Hagrid!" He smiled.
" Aye, Lisa was somethin'. I began to go to that class more and more. Soon I was a master, and I still kept carvin' wood in her class. Soon I became her assistant. 'Er ASSISTANT, Harry!" Hagrid looked near tears of joy.
" Cool." Harry gave him a thumb's-up sign.
" Yeh'd think that that would've been enough of Lisa, the kin' soul. But then she offered me somethin' much better." Hagrid paused. "Guess, Harry."
" Oh, no!" Harry was awful at guessing games. He'd always guess the right answer completely last. A/N: read my fic 'guessing game' for more on this!!!!!!
" Fine, fine, I won't keep yer hangin'." Hagrid grinned proudly. " She offered me a date."
" Great job, Hagrid. It sounds like she's really into you." Harry smiled in congratulations at Hagrid.
" I know." Hagrid said, not too modestly.
" Well, go on!" Harry prompted.
" This was all durin' the summer, too. Then when yer classmates and you came to Hogwarts, I knew I had to back outta any jobs Dumbledore might offer me, to keep seein' Lisa. I told Dumbledore I was too busy." Hagrid winked.
Harry laughed. " I don't think Dumbledore would be mad if you just told him the truth."
" It ain't no fun that way." Hagrid replied, then continued: "Lisa made me them doilies. She an' I are really hittin' it off. She said she ain't never had anyone like me, and I ain't had nobody like her."
" That's really, completely great." Harry couldn't have felt happier for his old friend, the first friend he made from the wizard world. " Lisa sounds really nice. Do you have a picture of her, or something? I sure would like to see her."
" That wouldn't be too hard. Lisa!" Hagrid called out.
Suddenly, the closet door burst open and a rosy-cheeked, tall woman with long frizzy brown hair and a round nose emerged. Her eyes were an odd honey color, with a few freckles on her cheeks that were embedded in the seas of rosy blush that covered them. Her face was young and old at the same time. She was most likely Hagrid's age, with a girlish glow, but a wisdom belonging to an older lady.
Harry gaped in surprise. " You sneak!" He said to Hagrid. "You caught me completely off guard!" Harry held out his hand to Hagrid's girlfriend, Lisa, and her entire hand enveloped his, and he immediately felt a reminder of when he first took Hagrid's hand - that amazing hugeness that shocked him completely from the very beginning. Lisa grinned and took a deeper squeeze to his hand, then shook it.
It felt as if his entire hand was getting jiggled apart. Harry drew his hand back and exclaimed: " Wow!"
" We wanted ter surprise ya, Harry." Hagrid explained.
" You did just that." Harry replied.
Lisa's cheeks turned even redder as Hagrid wrapped his arm around her. They were both exactly the same height, even, to the very millimeter. Hagrid squeezed her closer, then added: " Harry, Lisa an' I are gettin' married."
Harry thought that he couldn't get more surprised. But now his entire jaw collapsed downwards in utter shock and his eyes widened until he was gawking. He said, after a moment of being completely taken-aback: " Since when? Does anyone else know?"
Lisa shook her head. " Hagrid insisted to let you know, but otherwise, we're the only other souls that know."
" Incredible!" Harry laughed. " Congratulations! Both of you! Now I gotta buy you a decent wedding gift."
" Lisa's the greatest gift for me, Harry." Hagrid hugged Lisa tighter. " An' guess what?"
" What?" Harry asked, open now to any surprise, twist, or turn.
" Lisa likes magical creatures, too."
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*
Harry now had yet another secret. Hagrid, of course, told him he could tell Ron and Hermione about Hagrid and Lisa's engagement, but Harry wished he could hang white bells and let doves loose all over. He wanted to give them a parade, he wished for the world to sing in congratulations for his dear friend Hagrid and his new friend, Lisa.
As he worked on a homemade card for the happy new couple (or soon would be), Harry realized how much was changing in his life. Everyone was finding some sort of love these days.
He himself found his eyes moving lazily more and more often to the pictures of Hermione that he owned and he looked less and less into the Quidditch magazines cluttering the common room.
As he wrote the last few words on the card's front, and was ready to begin the inside of it, Ron strolled into the common room. Since it was the next day, which was a Saturday, Harry spent most of his time making the card and Ron missed hanging out with his friend.
Ron leaned on the wall and said, softly: "Hey, Harry. What's cooking?"
Harry looked up, and replied: " Wedding cake."
Ron approached him, looking over Harry's shoulder at the card. " How cute." Ron finally said. " Homemade." His voice was teasing.
" Aw, come on, Hagrid loves homemade stuff. He practically framed those doilies Lisa made for him." Harry replied.
" He should have. The way he eats, those doilies will be brown in days." Ron was now hovering close to Harry's desk, his eyes scanning the picture Harry drew. Harry had drawn a little white dove, with all his artistic skill possible, and then added a little heart into its mouth.
Harry replied to Ron's statement: " Lisa will keep Hagrid's little cabin clean."
" Where will they sleep, though? That home is tiny. If they bring Lisa in, the entire place will be busting it's seams." Ron wondered.
" Love has no boundaries. I read that in a book once." Harry added the last sentence so Ron wouldn't think he was some sort of romantic, memorizing such quotes.
" Do you want to go outside, maybe play some sort of game? It's still light out." Ron suggested.
Harry glanced outside. He knew Ron was lonely, he really had nobody else but Harry (except Hermione, but she didn't seem like someone Ron would want to go outside and play a game with). Harry smiled and agreed to go outside and play some sort of game, though he didn't really feel like it.
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*
That Saturday evening, Harry was sitting in the dining hall, fastening a letter to Hedgwig's leg. It wasn't a specific letter to anyone. Hermione was waiting outside to receive it, to see if Hedgwig was strong enough to carry letters again (after hurting her wing).
Harry held his hand up and with that sharp movement, Hedgwig flew off his finger and out the window. She flew awkwardly, though, almost as if there was an imbalance in her wings. Harry's forehead creased in thought as to whether he should continue pushing Hedgwig or not.
Soon after, Hedgwig was returning with Hermione's reply. Harry opened the letter and read the scribbled single stanza:
HARRY, I DON'T THINK HEDGWIG IS STRONG ENOUGH TO FLY YET. HERM.
Harry nodded in agreement, and then patted Hedgwig's head. The owl cooed and then nuzzled his small head into the warm crevice of Harry's cloak. Harry smoothened its ruffled feathers and then got up to return it to the owlery, since that's where it would heal best, among fellow owls.
Harry was a few feet from the doorway when he saw Draco. Draco's eyes grew wide as saucers at the sight of Harry's snowy owl resting on Harry's sleeve.
" Is that your owl?" Draco drawled in surprise.
Harry knew he'd been found. If Draco knew that Hedgwig wasn't really the owl that was dead, then he might tell Rebecca, and then Rebecca would try to kill the real Hedgwig to frighten Harry. Harry wouldn't even let that risk to occur, so he replied, after some quick thinking: " No."
" Then who's owl is it?" Draco asked.
" Hermione's. Her new one. It's name is Sunny." Harry proclaimed. Sunny did look a lot like Hedgwig, after all, and so Harry knew it was his best bet on hiding the true identity of the owl on his sleeve. Harry added, trying to seem nonchalant: " Why? Do you suppose my owl shouldn't be here, for some reason?"
Draco shook his head. " No. I'm just wondering if that's your owl." Draco then stepped aside and Harry passed through. Hedgwig's hurt wing was obvious, and Draco asked:
" What happened to it's wing?"
" Why do you care?" Harry turned halfway, his face in profile to Draco.
" I do. It's an animal, for Heaven's sakes. You don't think I WANT it to be hurt?" Draco's cold blue eyes suddenly gave out a signal of human concern, and Harry was slightly startled.
" Well, sure you don't want him to be hurt." Harry smiled reassuringly at Draco, then said: " I'll see you around, Draco. I have to return Hed - Sunny to the owlery."
Draco nodded in understanding. "See ya, Harry." He replied. No crude comment. Not 'See ya, POTTER' or 'See ya, Scar-Face'.
Harry couldn't help but wonder if he and Draco could be friends.
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*
Hagrid's soft black eyes were melting like butter as he smiled at Lisa. She was smiling right back at him, her eyes melting the same exact way.
Lisa puckered her lips and kissed his hairy cheek.
Harry couldn't help but feel a bit queasy at this love display, but Hermione was delighted. Harry had brought her along to speak with the new couple personally.
Hagrid suddenly winked at Harry. " I hear that yer a couple all on your own with Hermione."
Hagrid's grin doubled as Hermione and Harry's faces both exploded in a red-hot fire. Harry stammered out, to Lisa's amusement: " Well, you know, I. . . um . . ."
There was a silence, and then Lisa laughed cheerily and brought Harry and Hermione closer to her. " Aw, don't you be ashamed of it, dears!" Her massive arms crunched the two fifth-years to her body, then she let them go.
Hagrid beamed happily at Lisa.
" Rubeus, do you think that we might get a job together here at Hogwarts, to teach woodcarving to the students?" Lisa asked him.
" I 'spose it'd be wise, to get these kids involved in art!" Hagrid nodded.
Hermione suddenly seemed to get an idea. Her face lit up, and Harry imagined that a light bulb had gone off over her head, like in cartoons.
Hermione turned to the happy couple and asked: " So, you're both involved in magical creatures?"
The two nodded. Lisa added: " Always have been, young lady. It's probably the one thing that kept me going in school."
" What school did you go to?" Hermione asked.
" Why, here at Hogwarts." Lisa smiled.
" Really? With Hagrid?" Harry asked.
" Well. . . sort of." Hagrid's brow furled. He had, after all, dropped out in the third year. Lisa didn't seem to know of this and she looked at Hagrid curiously. Before anyone could say anything else, Hermione burst in, continuing the topic she had begun:
" If you both like magical creatures, can you tell me everything you know on English Whitescales?"
" Whitescales." Hagrid breathed the word out in wonder. "Close relative of the Norwegian Ridgeback, ain't it?"
Lisa nodded. " Closest, I believe."
" I had a Norwegian Ridgeback. I reckon yer not aware of it." Hagrid turned to Lisa again. Harry and Hermione had faded into the background of the two lovers again.
Hagrid took Lisa's hand, their two giant palms fitting into one another like puzzle pieces, their fingers easily twining together.
Hermione persisted: " So, can you tell me some other things about the dragons?"
" Come on, Hermione. We should leave them be." Harry gave Hermione a meaningful look, and her mouth formed a little red 'O'. Then, they slowly moved from the house, saying a cheery: "Goodbye, then, Hagrid! See ya around, Lisa."
Lisa and Hagrid had called back: " 'Bye."
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*
As they walked back towards Hogwarts, the tall black castle looming against the slate-black sky and the Saturday evening's sunset, Harry stopped Hermione. She turned to him, her eyes full of wonder at what he was doing.
" Hermione, I gotta tell you something."
"What is it?" She asked.
Harry's mind buzzed. He had been thinking about it for a while now, but didn't know how to introduce the idea to her. "Well, I don't want to look like I'm giving in to what everyone believes, and all, but. . ."
Hermione's head cocked sideways in anticipation.
Harry could feel his cheeks and ears growing warm. He didn't want that to happen, he figured boys weren't supposed to do that a lot. And yet, it happened, and he spoke fast: " . . . Would you be okay if I thought of you as my girlfriend? It's okay if you don't. I mean, I figured since the dance we've been more of a couple, but we hadn't really formally agreed on it. It's okay if you don't." Harry repeated the last sentence, then stopped. He felt awkward.
Hermione laughed. " Harry, It's perfectly alright with me."
" You mean it?" Harry was delighted.
Her head bobbed up and down in a nod, and then Harry hugged her close. " Oh, Herm, that means a lot to me." He whispered into her hair. Then, they moved back to the castle without saying another word.
They didn't need to, after all.
A/N: Now, if you read this far and you want me to keep going, then review this story. (If you already did then don't worry about it, though it would be cool if you'd review it for every chapter, so then I'll know if the writing's turning shabby or erroneous and I'll take a bit of a breather and stop hurrying to get the chapter done).
P.S. If you like this then read some of my shorter fictions. Oh, and sorry if I end with too many cliffhangers, though I try not to. I don't think this chapter was a cliffhanger, in my opinion. Yet sometimes cliffies are good since then people come back to read more. Or at least review more.
2 Chapter 9
3 Hagrid's Lisa
A few days passed and Harry found himself sitting with Hermione in the library on a cold Friday evening. She was absorbed in a book (Harry read the spine of the book and it was '1001 Arabian Nights', a book he had never read). Harry, meanwhile, was just there since Hermione was.
Harry leaned forwards on the desk and sighed. His breath rustled the pages of Hermione's book, and she glanced up at him.
" Oh, you're still here, Harry?" She asked, surprised.
" Where else would I be?" He smiled.
" I don't know. I didn't think you'd sit there, staring at me." She put the book down and leaned on her hand. " Is there anything new? Did you even get any research done on why You-Know-Who might need English Whitescales? You can do that, if you have nothing better to do."
Harry shrugged. " I didn't find anything new, so I guess I will look it up."
" Mmm. Good idea." Hermione's eyes were plastered to the book again and she was whispering the words to herself as she read, smiling.
Harry got up and looked around the library. He didn't quite know which corner to look through. There was the entire row of books on Magical Creatures, and finally, he headed towards there.
He traced the dusty, cracked spines of the books with his finger, then stopped upon a certain book, his eyes widening. It had, in big fancy letters, the words: 'English Whitescales'. He slowly pulled it out and then blew on the cover.
His breath made a circle in the dust and he slowly opened the book. There wasn't much dust on it compared to the other books. It must have been taken out not that long ago.
He suddenly looked at the inside left cover. Someone's name was written, but it had blurred. The pages were wrinkled, as if dropped in the rain.
He finally maid out a few letters, with the letters he couldn't make out represented as blanks:
_eb_o_a_
The words were written messily and he wondered whose name it could have been. He wasn't familiar with any names that had those letters in them.
He carried the book back to the table at which Hermione sat. She looked up at him and asked:
" What have you got there, Harry? You couldn't have possibly found a good source so quickly."
" I have." He replied, and showed her the ancient-looking book. " It doesn't belong to the library though. It must be one of the students' personal books, returned to the library by accident. Do you recognize the name?"
Hermione looked at the watery, distilled ink and shook her head. " It's too blurry." She flipped to the first page, where a clear picture of the dragon was depicted. It looked beautiful, yet fierce.
The picture was old, probably painted in the fourteenth or fifteenth century, judging by the style. Yet, it had this interesting glow to it. The dragon was directly in the middle, and beside it, like a frightened cowering ant, was a knight. The knight's armor had purposely been dulled by the artist's brush, making it look almost muddled. There was a sheen sort of glow to the dragon's scales instead, and a handsome glimmer in the dragon's eyes. Whoever had painted it would have rooted for the dragon to win if they were to see the knight and dragon fight it out.
" It's a nice painting." Hermione said. " I wonder who did it?" The water had blurred away the name of the artist, as well, but she did catch the date on it. Harry was right, it was from the fourteenth century, and it was an oil painting.
Harry flipped the page for her, and they both began to read (he was reading over her shoulder) the text of the book, which was set in a lovely old-fashioned type:
'The English Whitescale (Dragnificus Purinus):
Known to have originated from the northern
parts of England, these likeness of these
creatures is often depicted on the Muggle
custom of coats-of-arms for knights. They
are generally distinguished from others by
the main features:
A sturdy, long neck.
A delicate skull that is set with double
rows of razor-sharp teeth.
The lack of a hind finger on the forelegs,
most likely due to the inbreeding this species
suffered after the Dragon Scare.
Scales that are pure white and reflective
of the sun. Men who sighted this described
how the beast's scales would blind them
before they could capture it.
In all, these creatures are oddly familiar
to the Scottish Green-eyes, which had gone
extinct in 1436, but whom we recognize from
paintings.'
Harry stopped reading and then said: " I don't think this first section will tell us much for what this dragon might be useful for if captured by a dark lord."
" I agree." Hermione slammed the book shut, then opened to the index in back. She traced with her finger to where she found: 'Uses. . . use of scales, of blood, of bones. . .'
She flipped to the page and read:
'English Whitescales have many uses.
Their scales can be ground to a fine powder
and then mixed with unicorn blood. In doing
so, one can become even immortal. The dragon
has to be exactly a hundred years old for their
scales to achieve this quality. Before or past
that age, for an unexplained reason, the powder
will have no effect on the one who wishes to be
immortal.'
" That's weird." Harry whispered. " Of course, Voldemort - er, You- Know-Who, would want to be immortal. But how could he have known that the English Whitescale would be a hundred, or whatever?"
" He didn't."
" Huh?" Harry looked at Hermione.
" He couldn't have known. That's why he must have seaked into the office of Timothy Rower, and had taken the papers on the English Whitescale - to know it's age!" Hermione laughed. "Aha! I knew it! And then Timothy must have come into the office and caught You-Know-Who, and then You-Know- Who killed him." Hermione's voice dropped to a whisper. " Harry, this is huge! I can't believe we came to these conclusions so early!"
" Neither can I." Harry replied, gloomily, for he wished he could tell Hermione much more from what he learned from Ron. But he had a promise with Ron, and a promise that crossed that one with Hermione.
He was confused and stuck between his friends.
Hermione said: " I wonder if You-Know-Who got a dragon from somewhere yet. Does Charlie keep contact with other Whitescale keepers? Maybe one of their dragons had vanished mysteriously." Hermione's eyes were clouded with thought.
" There's more to the uses of the dragon." Harry told her, and then read from the book:
' English Whitescales have blood that
can be used to make one's power twice as
great. This feat had only been successful
with a very few great and powerful wizards.
One man who had used this potion, at an
early age, was Albus Dumbledore, in making
a severe promise that he will always be
strong and fight against Voldemort.'
Harry stopped, his eyes widening. " Dumbledore drank the blood!" He exclaimed, then turned to Hermione. " That means he might know more about these dragons then we do."
" I suppose. But would you dare to talk to him about it?" Hermione asked.
" No." Harry turned red. " I don't think he'd even want to talk about it. That's sort of a very private thing, you know. I doubt that Dumbledore would want us to know."
" Yeah, I guess." Hermione read on for him: " Look at this. . .
' English Whitescales' bones,
especially the marrow, had been used in
making charms. The charms, supposedly,
would then be possessed with either an evil
or a good spirit. Many of Voldemort's followers
were found wearing such charms, and some
believe Voldemort had tried to brainwash
them with the evil spirit dwelling in the charms
to follow him.'
" Wow! This book is fabulous!" Hermione hugged the book to her. " Oh, Harry, this is practically priceless information! I can't believe I'm actually reading this! This could open so many doors!"
He grinned. " Glad you, uh, like it."
She pushed aside 'A 1001 Arabian Nights' and plopped down the thick book on English Whitescales in its place. " I'll read this through, thoroughly, and I'll most likely get back to you on some of this stuff by next week." Hermione said.
" You can read a book like THIS in a WEEK?" Harry was amazed.
" Sure." Hermione shrugged, as if it were nothing, simply a ten-page- long children's book. " It's not too bad. I could read it quicker then that, even, but I don't think I should put my schoolwork on hold for this."
" You're right." Harry stood up, his eyes on the clock hanging from the wall. " Oh, man! It's seven!" He feverishly loaded his notebook and quill into his school bag and then seeing Hermione's questionable look, he explained:
" I was going to see Hagrid today. He wanted to talk to me."
" Oh." Hermione nodded. " Well, then, see you tomorrow. I'll probably hit the sack by the time you come back."
Harry gave her a light hug and told her goodnight, then headed outside.
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*
The night air was frosty, and Harry immediately realized that fall was taking over full-blast. It was going to be October in just a very few days, and then Halloween, and before he'd know it then Christmas would be in the air, with children holding candy canes and people caroling and him spending the holidays at Hermione's house. It had been settled, after all, that he'd spend the Christmas holidays with Hermione and her family. He looked forwards to it, though he could feel the blood rush to his cheeks at the thought he would spend an entire holiday vacation with Hermione.
Harry stumbled through a thick growth of ferns and then realized something was glistening in the moonlight. He picked it up. It was a letter. He opened it, out of plain curiosity, and his heart stopped seeing it was his letter to Sirius. He had been lucky that nobody had found it.
Now the whole incident was clear: the brief disappearance of Hedgwig was just a red herring and it had nothing to deal with the mystery. It was the death of Sirius' owl that put Rebecca on a pedestal with a huge black sign over her neck: GUILTY.
Of course, Harry now realized that poor Hedgwig must have dropped the letter, and not being able to find it, she had cowered away in shame inside the comforting owlery.
Hedgwig had probably hurt her wing when she was searching for the letter, since Harry could see a great deal of jagged twigs and rocks pointing from the grass. The Quidditch field had been neglected over the summer and Hagrid, the gamekeeper (and the one who oftentimes helped clean up the fields) had been off in Hogsmeade now more then when he was inside Hogwarts.
Hagrid's hut was a shining star at the end of the endless field. Harry knocked on the door with his left hand, while shoving the letter to Sirius back inside his pocket.
The door opened and Hagrid looked at Harry, his black beard actually a bit combed down today. He smelled very nice, as if he had taken a long time applying cologne.
" Hey, Hagrid." Harry rubbed his hands together, his teeth chattering. "Sure is c-c-cold out today."
" Aye. Yer lucky that it ain't like back seven years ago, before ye came to Hogwarts. It snowed mid-fall, I tell ya." Hagrid moved aside from the door, realizing that while he was talking he'd been blocking the doorway from poor Harry.
Harry stumbled inside, rosy-cheeked, and then closed the massive door behind him. Harry's eyes immediately fell onto Hagrid's table. Three white doiles - doilies! - were spread out neatly across it.
" Doilies, Hagrid?" Harry exclaimed.
" Blimey, Harry, don't ya think it's 'bout time I added some cheer to this 'ere home?" Hagrid turned to him, his eyes twinkling.
" This isn't like you. What's going on?" Harry asked the tall man.
" Suppose it's 'bout time I told you why I've been off to Hogsmeade so much." Hagrid admitted.
" I'm listening." Harry sat down on a huge brown leather chair in the corner of the room and then propped an elbow on the gigantic wooden table. He felt the lumpy doily beneath it and held it up. It was hand-made. " Wait. Who made these for you? I don't think you could hold a needle too well, to make this design." Harry's finger ran over the flower-pattern.
" That be part of what I'm trying to tell you. 'Ere I am, babblin' again. I don't think I should worry you, Harry. It's me own problem." Hagrid heaved himself down onto the other side of he table. He glanced at the boiling cauldron hanging over the fire, and added: "Maybe you'd like some tea?"
" No thanks." Harry replied. " Tell me what's going on."
" Yer too stubborn." Hagrid grumbled. " I s'pose it's nothin' big, just yer average everyday happenings, and all, but it's big to me, and. . ."
" You're babbling again." Harry smiled.
" Oh! Sorry." Hagrid's string of words was cut off neatly and he got down to business: " Ya see, Harry, I got really interested into wood carvin', that you know, right?"
Harry nodded. The pot over the fire fizzled loudly and then a thin mist of bubbles frothed over the side. Hagrid shot up to his feet and pulled the cauldron off the fire and then hastily set a mug onto the table while pouring himself some water into it with his other hand. He glanced up at Harry and said: " Yer sure you ain't got the hankerin' for tea? It'll clean yer insides out."
" My insides are fine." Harry assured him. " Now, keep going."
" Alright, alright." Hagrid sipped at the hot tea, then said: "Well, it ain't the greatest o' hobbies, wood carvin', 'specially since I never done it before an' all."
" I guess you're right." Harry said, impatiently.
" So, naturally, I wanted to get me some 'elp." Hagrid explained, then dipped his finger under the loop of the little silver sugar container and scooped some sugar into his tea.
" They offer help for wood carving?" Harry was awed. He knew there were art classes and there was pottery instruction, but he didn't know there was wood carving help.
" 'Course there is!" Hagrid slammed his mug down. " Decent course, I went through, but didn't feel right. So, I took 'nother course."
" Uh-uh." Harry watched Hagrid swirl his spoon through his tea. Hagrid looked nervous.
" Yer sure you ain't feelin' like gettin' some . . ." Hagrid began.
" No tea!" Harry raised his voice sharply, then added: " Sorry, it's just I don't feel like tea. Honestly."
" Maybe you feel like an egg?" Hagrid asked.
" No, I feel like a Harry." Harry kidded, then added: " Hagrid, stop delaying. So you took another help course, and what happened?"
" What happen'd was this: the new instructor was this great girl, her name's Lisa." Hagrid smiled fondly. " She's half giant, yer know. Tall like me, strappin', well built lady."
Harry realized where the conversation was going. " Hagrid!" He smiled.
" Aye, Lisa was somethin'. I began to go to that class more and more. Soon I was a master, and I still kept carvin' wood in her class. Soon I became her assistant. 'Er ASSISTANT, Harry!" Hagrid looked near tears of joy.
" Cool." Harry gave him a thumb's-up sign.
" Yeh'd think that that would've been enough of Lisa, the kin' soul. But then she offered me somethin' much better." Hagrid paused. "Guess, Harry."
" Oh, no!" Harry was awful at guessing games. He'd always guess the right answer completely last. A/N: read my fic 'guessing game' for more on this!!!!!!
" Fine, fine, I won't keep yer hangin'." Hagrid grinned proudly. " She offered me a date."
" Great job, Hagrid. It sounds like she's really into you." Harry smiled in congratulations at Hagrid.
" I know." Hagrid said, not too modestly.
" Well, go on!" Harry prompted.
" This was all durin' the summer, too. Then when yer classmates and you came to Hogwarts, I knew I had to back outta any jobs Dumbledore might offer me, to keep seein' Lisa. I told Dumbledore I was too busy." Hagrid winked.
Harry laughed. " I don't think Dumbledore would be mad if you just told him the truth."
" It ain't no fun that way." Hagrid replied, then continued: "Lisa made me them doilies. She an' I are really hittin' it off. She said she ain't never had anyone like me, and I ain't had nobody like her."
" That's really, completely great." Harry couldn't have felt happier for his old friend, the first friend he made from the wizard world. " Lisa sounds really nice. Do you have a picture of her, or something? I sure would like to see her."
" That wouldn't be too hard. Lisa!" Hagrid called out.
Suddenly, the closet door burst open and a rosy-cheeked, tall woman with long frizzy brown hair and a round nose emerged. Her eyes were an odd honey color, with a few freckles on her cheeks that were embedded in the seas of rosy blush that covered them. Her face was young and old at the same time. She was most likely Hagrid's age, with a girlish glow, but a wisdom belonging to an older lady.
Harry gaped in surprise. " You sneak!" He said to Hagrid. "You caught me completely off guard!" Harry held out his hand to Hagrid's girlfriend, Lisa, and her entire hand enveloped his, and he immediately felt a reminder of when he first took Hagrid's hand - that amazing hugeness that shocked him completely from the very beginning. Lisa grinned and took a deeper squeeze to his hand, then shook it.
It felt as if his entire hand was getting jiggled apart. Harry drew his hand back and exclaimed: " Wow!"
" We wanted ter surprise ya, Harry." Hagrid explained.
" You did just that." Harry replied.
Lisa's cheeks turned even redder as Hagrid wrapped his arm around her. They were both exactly the same height, even, to the very millimeter. Hagrid squeezed her closer, then added: " Harry, Lisa an' I are gettin' married."
Harry thought that he couldn't get more surprised. But now his entire jaw collapsed downwards in utter shock and his eyes widened until he was gawking. He said, after a moment of being completely taken-aback: " Since when? Does anyone else know?"
Lisa shook her head. " Hagrid insisted to let you know, but otherwise, we're the only other souls that know."
" Incredible!" Harry laughed. " Congratulations! Both of you! Now I gotta buy you a decent wedding gift."
" Lisa's the greatest gift for me, Harry." Hagrid hugged Lisa tighter. " An' guess what?"
" What?" Harry asked, open now to any surprise, twist, or turn.
" Lisa likes magical creatures, too."
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*
Harry now had yet another secret. Hagrid, of course, told him he could tell Ron and Hermione about Hagrid and Lisa's engagement, but Harry wished he could hang white bells and let doves loose all over. He wanted to give them a parade, he wished for the world to sing in congratulations for his dear friend Hagrid and his new friend, Lisa.
As he worked on a homemade card for the happy new couple (or soon would be), Harry realized how much was changing in his life. Everyone was finding some sort of love these days.
He himself found his eyes moving lazily more and more often to the pictures of Hermione that he owned and he looked less and less into the Quidditch magazines cluttering the common room.
As he wrote the last few words on the card's front, and was ready to begin the inside of it, Ron strolled into the common room. Since it was the next day, which was a Saturday, Harry spent most of his time making the card and Ron missed hanging out with his friend.
Ron leaned on the wall and said, softly: "Hey, Harry. What's cooking?"
Harry looked up, and replied: " Wedding cake."
Ron approached him, looking over Harry's shoulder at the card. " How cute." Ron finally said. " Homemade." His voice was teasing.
" Aw, come on, Hagrid loves homemade stuff. He practically framed those doilies Lisa made for him." Harry replied.
" He should have. The way he eats, those doilies will be brown in days." Ron was now hovering close to Harry's desk, his eyes scanning the picture Harry drew. Harry had drawn a little white dove, with all his artistic skill possible, and then added a little heart into its mouth.
Harry replied to Ron's statement: " Lisa will keep Hagrid's little cabin clean."
" Where will they sleep, though? That home is tiny. If they bring Lisa in, the entire place will be busting it's seams." Ron wondered.
" Love has no boundaries. I read that in a book once." Harry added the last sentence so Ron wouldn't think he was some sort of romantic, memorizing such quotes.
" Do you want to go outside, maybe play some sort of game? It's still light out." Ron suggested.
Harry glanced outside. He knew Ron was lonely, he really had nobody else but Harry (except Hermione, but she didn't seem like someone Ron would want to go outside and play a game with). Harry smiled and agreed to go outside and play some sort of game, though he didn't really feel like it.
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*
That Saturday evening, Harry was sitting in the dining hall, fastening a letter to Hedgwig's leg. It wasn't a specific letter to anyone. Hermione was waiting outside to receive it, to see if Hedgwig was strong enough to carry letters again (after hurting her wing).
Harry held his hand up and with that sharp movement, Hedgwig flew off his finger and out the window. She flew awkwardly, though, almost as if there was an imbalance in her wings. Harry's forehead creased in thought as to whether he should continue pushing Hedgwig or not.
Soon after, Hedgwig was returning with Hermione's reply. Harry opened the letter and read the scribbled single stanza:
HARRY, I DON'T THINK HEDGWIG IS STRONG ENOUGH TO FLY YET. HERM.
Harry nodded in agreement, and then patted Hedgwig's head. The owl cooed and then nuzzled his small head into the warm crevice of Harry's cloak. Harry smoothened its ruffled feathers and then got up to return it to the owlery, since that's where it would heal best, among fellow owls.
Harry was a few feet from the doorway when he saw Draco. Draco's eyes grew wide as saucers at the sight of Harry's snowy owl resting on Harry's sleeve.
" Is that your owl?" Draco drawled in surprise.
Harry knew he'd been found. If Draco knew that Hedgwig wasn't really the owl that was dead, then he might tell Rebecca, and then Rebecca would try to kill the real Hedgwig to frighten Harry. Harry wouldn't even let that risk to occur, so he replied, after some quick thinking: " No."
" Then who's owl is it?" Draco asked.
" Hermione's. Her new one. It's name is Sunny." Harry proclaimed. Sunny did look a lot like Hedgwig, after all, and so Harry knew it was his best bet on hiding the true identity of the owl on his sleeve. Harry added, trying to seem nonchalant: " Why? Do you suppose my owl shouldn't be here, for some reason?"
Draco shook his head. " No. I'm just wondering if that's your owl." Draco then stepped aside and Harry passed through. Hedgwig's hurt wing was obvious, and Draco asked:
" What happened to it's wing?"
" Why do you care?" Harry turned halfway, his face in profile to Draco.
" I do. It's an animal, for Heaven's sakes. You don't think I WANT it to be hurt?" Draco's cold blue eyes suddenly gave out a signal of human concern, and Harry was slightly startled.
" Well, sure you don't want him to be hurt." Harry smiled reassuringly at Draco, then said: " I'll see you around, Draco. I have to return Hed - Sunny to the owlery."
Draco nodded in understanding. "See ya, Harry." He replied. No crude comment. Not 'See ya, POTTER' or 'See ya, Scar-Face'.
Harry couldn't help but wonder if he and Draco could be friends.
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*
Hagrid's soft black eyes were melting like butter as he smiled at Lisa. She was smiling right back at him, her eyes melting the same exact way.
Lisa puckered her lips and kissed his hairy cheek.
Harry couldn't help but feel a bit queasy at this love display, but Hermione was delighted. Harry had brought her along to speak with the new couple personally.
Hagrid suddenly winked at Harry. " I hear that yer a couple all on your own with Hermione."
Hagrid's grin doubled as Hermione and Harry's faces both exploded in a red-hot fire. Harry stammered out, to Lisa's amusement: " Well, you know, I. . . um . . ."
There was a silence, and then Lisa laughed cheerily and brought Harry and Hermione closer to her. " Aw, don't you be ashamed of it, dears!" Her massive arms crunched the two fifth-years to her body, then she let them go.
Hagrid beamed happily at Lisa.
" Rubeus, do you think that we might get a job together here at Hogwarts, to teach woodcarving to the students?" Lisa asked him.
" I 'spose it'd be wise, to get these kids involved in art!" Hagrid nodded.
Hermione suddenly seemed to get an idea. Her face lit up, and Harry imagined that a light bulb had gone off over her head, like in cartoons.
Hermione turned to the happy couple and asked: " So, you're both involved in magical creatures?"
The two nodded. Lisa added: " Always have been, young lady. It's probably the one thing that kept me going in school."
" What school did you go to?" Hermione asked.
" Why, here at Hogwarts." Lisa smiled.
" Really? With Hagrid?" Harry asked.
" Well. . . sort of." Hagrid's brow furled. He had, after all, dropped out in the third year. Lisa didn't seem to know of this and she looked at Hagrid curiously. Before anyone could say anything else, Hermione burst in, continuing the topic she had begun:
" If you both like magical creatures, can you tell me everything you know on English Whitescales?"
" Whitescales." Hagrid breathed the word out in wonder. "Close relative of the Norwegian Ridgeback, ain't it?"
Lisa nodded. " Closest, I believe."
" I had a Norwegian Ridgeback. I reckon yer not aware of it." Hagrid turned to Lisa again. Harry and Hermione had faded into the background of the two lovers again.
Hagrid took Lisa's hand, their two giant palms fitting into one another like puzzle pieces, their fingers easily twining together.
Hermione persisted: " So, can you tell me some other things about the dragons?"
" Come on, Hermione. We should leave them be." Harry gave Hermione a meaningful look, and her mouth formed a little red 'O'. Then, they slowly moved from the house, saying a cheery: "Goodbye, then, Hagrid! See ya around, Lisa."
Lisa and Hagrid had called back: " 'Bye."
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*
As they walked back towards Hogwarts, the tall black castle looming against the slate-black sky and the Saturday evening's sunset, Harry stopped Hermione. She turned to him, her eyes full of wonder at what he was doing.
" Hermione, I gotta tell you something."
"What is it?" She asked.
Harry's mind buzzed. He had been thinking about it for a while now, but didn't know how to introduce the idea to her. "Well, I don't want to look like I'm giving in to what everyone believes, and all, but. . ."
Hermione's head cocked sideways in anticipation.
Harry could feel his cheeks and ears growing warm. He didn't want that to happen, he figured boys weren't supposed to do that a lot. And yet, it happened, and he spoke fast: " . . . Would you be okay if I thought of you as my girlfriend? It's okay if you don't. I mean, I figured since the dance we've been more of a couple, but we hadn't really formally agreed on it. It's okay if you don't." Harry repeated the last sentence, then stopped. He felt awkward.
Hermione laughed. " Harry, It's perfectly alright with me."
" You mean it?" Harry was delighted.
Her head bobbed up and down in a nod, and then Harry hugged her close. " Oh, Herm, that means a lot to me." He whispered into her hair. Then, they moved back to the castle without saying another word.
They didn't need to, after all.
A/N: Now, if you read this far and you want me to keep going, then review this story. (If you already did then don't worry about it, though it would be cool if you'd review it for every chapter, so then I'll know if the writing's turning shabby or erroneous and I'll take a bit of a breather and stop hurrying to get the chapter done).
P.S. If you like this then read some of my shorter fictions. Oh, and sorry if I end with too many cliffhangers, though I try not to. I don't think this chapter was a cliffhanger, in my opinion. Yet sometimes cliffies are good since then people come back to read more. Or at least review more.
