1 Chapter 10

2 Conversations



A week passed by sluggishly, and it was finally the next Sunday and October had come in, with its lovely coat of red and orange leaves. The nights lagged longer while the day shrunk into a very few hours of daylight. The stars twinkled brighter, meanwhile, in the frosty night air, and the trees swayed in an old rhythm. Nature was beating on a tribal drum, signaling an old due date for the metamorphosis from green to colorful.

Leaves cluttered and clogged every nook and cranny outside. Harry's latest Quidditch game was rather hard to play, since leaves kept blowing into his face from the roaring trees. Twice he had to let loose of his iron grip on the broom, tense muscles relaxing, to swipe at the attacking leaves. They had covered his glasses and one even flew into his mouth. If his reaction were to be put as an antonym, then he was 'delighted' with playing in such weather.

Gryffindor had won this match, which was against Hufflepuff this time. Rebecca, the captain of Hufflepuff, had to be soothed and pulled from the field by Cho (the Ravenclaw Seeker), since Rebecca looked ready to hiss and scratch all over poor Harry.

Harry had, happily, earned a kiss from Hermione that same night as they sat in front of the crackling fireplace, the room wafted with the scent of the cinnamon candles that Hermione had set up on the mantle of the fireplace.

Ron, meanwhile, was playing a fierce game of chess with Nick, Cho's brother, and Ron won by a hair, since Nick proved to be a skilled player, even for a first-year.

Harry's mind drifted with joy and well-meaning, of course, as he woke that Sunday, and faced the mirror on the wall. The mirror chimed out:

" Good morning, dear!"

Harry smiled and replied the greeting, then rummaged sleepily for a comb or brush. After locating the tool, he combed his hair, and then grumbled in frustration when his hair slowly oozed back to its original shape.

Harry put the brush down with a bang, then looked for his sanitary supplies, which he kept in the upper drawer of the bureau that had been designated for the boy's use in the common room. He unzipped the pale blue bag and pulled out what he hoped would be his toothbrush.

Instead, he saw a multitude of girl's hair supplies. He immediately recognized the work of Fred and George Weasley, the original pranksters. Ever since they came to Hogwarts, the one sole purpose on their minds was to play as many pranks as they could before their final and last year was over.

Harry smirked and dumped the butterfly clips and scrunchies down into Fred's drawer, not knowing which one was George's, and then wrote him a quick note:

SEEMS YOU MISPLACED YOUR BELONGINGS.

Then, Harry found his real hygiene supplies buried under Fred's socks (Harry tossed through these, pretending he was wearing thick dragon-hide gloves). Finding his belongings, Harry headed for the bathroom.

After taking a quick shower, he molded his wet hair into what seemed to be a more acceptable hairdo and then examined himself in the mirror. The towel hung loosely on his hips, and he squinted to see since his glasses weren't on.

Perhaps it was the muscles he had on his arms, or the glint in his eye, but he was pleased with what he saw.

He put a dollop of toothpaste onto his toothbrush and proceeded brushing his teeth. He realized only later that Fred and George had thought ahead and switched his toothpaste with a prank brand. The words on the tube read: 'Proven to turn your teeth a Sparkling Black!'

Harry rolled his eyes and then opened his mouth. He appeared to have no teeth at all since they were now the color of black ink and blended with the dark in the back of his throat. Still not letting this spoil his day, Harry washed his teeth again with the right toothpaste.

A few minutes later, after completing the rest of his morning preparations, he figured he was done. The Harry in the mirror glowed in a godlike shine from all the work he'd done on himself. His hair was drying already though and the black strands were snapping back into their usual position. The only cure for this would be to shave himself bald, and maybe even then it would do no good. And Harry had no intentions to be bald.

This reminded him of a gruesome joke that Ron and he laughed about only yesterday. As he walked to the dining hall, he ran the joke over in his mind:

~~~~Patient: Doctor!

Doctor: What is the problem?

Patient: I have a mustache!

Doctor: So? Lots of people have mustaches!

Patient: But I'm twelve.

Doctor: People sometimes mature faster.

Patient: But I'm a girl.

Doctor: Lots of women have facial hair.

Patient: But I'm also bald!

Doctor: So? Lots of beautiful women are bald and have mustaches.

Patient: My head gets cold, I sneeze, and the snot gets caught in my mustache.~~~

Harry made a face at the memory of the joke. He didn't like it as much now that he reflected on it, but he had laughed like crazy over it with Ron. He reminded himself to share it with Neville. Ron said he read it in a Muggle book called 'Dogs Don't Tell Jokes'.

The dining hall nearly stopped him before he even entered it. A thick smell of bacon and eggs pummeled through the wooden framed doors, and Harry was drawn to it as if on a silver cloud.

Soon he found himself sitting beside Hermione, relishing in the food. Hermione said to him:

" I finished that book on English Whitescales, that you found in the library."

" Did you find anything new?" Harry asked her, looking up from a delicious- looking piece of buttered toast. He had quite a ravenous appetite today since he chose to skip dinner yesterday to be with Hermione, and his reward for it was worth the missed meal.

" Not a single thing." Hermione shook her head sadly. " I suppose we can't always get right on the trail with things."

" I suppose not." Harry took a bite from the toast, then saw Neville coming near. " Hey, Neville!" Harry called out. "Wanna hear a joke? It's gross AND funny."

Neville looked genuinely interested, just like any boy, but then shook his head. " I can't, Harry. I'm supposed to see Dumbledore. My grandmother has questions for him."

" You don't know what you're missing!" He called after his friend.

Neville nodded solemnly, knowing all too well that he was missing a good belly-laugh. He pursued going towards Dumbledore at the front of the room, though, not even looking back at Harry so as not to be drawn to him.

Harry turned back to Hermione, who was reading the book 'A 1001 Arabian Nights' again. He noticed once again her plate was empty. "Herm, why aren't you eating again?"

She shrugged. " I don't feel like it."

" Now, that's just stupid. You haven't been reading those Muggle magazines again, have you?" Harry asked.

Hermione didn't reply, but the expression on her face showed that she had. Harry sighed and then put his arm around her shoulders. " Herm, you're not fat. You can eat."

Hermione's hand inched up and then slowly made its way around Harry's waist this time, and she looked at him. " If not for the fact you're always a sweetie, then I'd believe you."

" Hey! I wouldn't lie to you." Harry said, his hand dropping from her shoulders.

Ron was listening in. He pointed at Harry and said: "Yeah, would that face lie to you?"

Hermione looked at Harry, who was giving her his most soulful, most puppy dog eyes, and her smile tugged upwards as if the corners of her mouth were on strings and someone had jerked them upwards. Her smile wasn't artificial though.

" Oh, Harry." She put her head on his shoulder, then turned and began to eat.

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Harry stopped Peeves in the hallway. Peeves looked up to something, though perhaps he always did, with the way his eyebrows were arched suspiciously high on his ghostly face. Peeves turned to Harry in mock anger and shouted: " What do you want!"

The black-haired boy replied: " I need to ask you something."

" Me?" Peeves floated down towards the ground a few inches, his eyes scanning Harry in wonder. Why on earth would Harry want to ask him anything?

" I don't see anyone else here. Though maybe I don't really SEE you, either, since you're see-through, but. . ." Harry decided not to get into the details and continued: " Moving on! You told Myrtle a tale about how Draco and Rebecca were talking about her."

" I most certainly did not! Where in the world did you get such a ghastly idea!" Peeves pretended to know nothing about what Harry was saying.

" Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about!" Harry raised his finger in scolding, then lowered it in disappointment, since Peeves didn't look ready to talk. " Look, Peeves, you might pretend to be dumb but you know more about what's going on in this school and who did what then Dumbledore."

Peeves seemed complimented. " That's true."

" I only need you to tell me a few things. Did you hear Draco and Rebecca speak of anything else suspicious?" Harry asked. He knew it was desperation to ask Peeves such a thing, but he highly suspected Rebecca of being up to more then he even knew.

Peeves was lost in thought. " Let me see. . . Oh, yes, I remember something with Draco. . ."

" Tell me!" Harry demanded.

" It wasn't Draco exactly though. Draco was mending Goyle's pants, since Goyle can't hold a needle in those fat stubby fingers, and Draco wasn't too happy either. He hates being a babysitter at times for those two lugs." Peeves grinned mischievously. " Goyle bent over, you know, to show Crabbe that he could touch his toes. And then with a sickening crack, his pants split right in half on his tush."

Harry tried to bite his cheeks to keep from laughing at other's misfortunes as he asked: " Anything else?"

" I heard Cho and Rebecca talking." Peeves said, after a while. "Nothing much, just girl talk. I hate listening to them."

" So you don't remember what they said, in other words?" Harry prompted.

" Cho mentioned you. She said you look handsome. Then they giggled, and Rebecca seemed to be disgusted with Cho's opinion." Peeves shrugged. " Can't blame her."

"Hey! I didn't come here to get insulted, I came here to find out a few answers." Harry crossed his arms.

" I don't think I heard any other things about Draco or Rebecca. They're staying away from each other." Peeves suddenly said: " Oh, Harry, I'm kind of fond of you. Don't open the Potions classroom door."

" Why?" Harry wondered.

Just then, a scream echoed through the hallway. Harry turned and saw Snape, with a bucket on his head, his eyes piercing and angry. "PEEVES!" Snape shrieked.

*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*

Harry sat outside in the stands, staring at how the dry leaves rolled across the Quidditch field. His eyes stopped on a lone person moving towards Harry.

Harry squinted to see in the glaring sunlight who was approaching. Only when the figure was close did he see it was Draco. Draco walked right past him, probably not going there to talk to Harry. He was heading for the distant end of the field, and he had his broom with him, so Harry figured Draco wanted to practice his Quidditch.

Harry felt an odd bitterness still towards Draco, but seeing it was inhuman not to say anything to him, he called out: "Hi, Draco."

Draco was stunned to hear what Harry had said. He turned, then said: "Hi, Harry."

" Can I talk to you?" Harry said, after a while. He figured if there was one person who'd know what Rebecca was up to, it was Draco. Harry knew he was risking a lot by asking, since Draco could just as well turn around and then run to Rebecca, squealing that Harry is catching on to Rebecca's evil plans, whatever they were.

Draco didn't seem to know what to reply. His eyes scanned Harry uncertainly, then the icy blues met with the forest greens and he drawled: " Alright. For a while."

He sat down a good five feet away from Harry, just enough distance to keep from feeling too strange.

" I have to ask you a few things." Harry began.

" If it's about the frog in Neville's shoe, I swear I didn't put it there." Draco began a protest.

" It's not that!" Harry laughed, then grew stern. " Hmm. . . I'll get back to you on the frog thing."

Draco realized he'd given himself away and his eyes moved from Harry and back onto the Quidditch field. Never had the chipping red paint on the left-hand side of one of the Quidditch goal poles been so interesting.

" I'm sort of wondering what Rebecca is up to. She's been acting sort of. . . weird. Don't you think?" Harry asked, trying to get Draco to at least say something other then the occasional murmur he'd give Harry when Harry had tried to converse with him before.

Draco's shoulders moved up and down in a shrug.

" You've gone out with her for a while. You gotta know SOMETHING, for Heaven's sakes." Harry muttered.

" That isn't your business, is it?" Draco's freezing-cold words stopped Harry from being on a roll with his questions.

" It's only a friendly question." Harry told him.

" You can stick your friendliness up your. . ." Draco was stopped by a sudden violent gust of wind. A leaf managed to come and slap him across the face.

Harry didn't know whether he should laugh or be offended. Finally, he continued the mild interrogation: "Well, Malfoy, there's no need for any profanity." He said, softly.

" Is that so? I can add quite a bit, if you don't mind." Draco's eyes turned into cold slits. He obviously didn't want to speak of Rebecca beside Harry.

Harry didn't know what to say. Obviously, Draco didn't want to talk any longer. Harry thought hard before saying: "Could you at least tell me if Rebecca's plotting anything bad against me, Hermione, or any of my friends?"

" No." The answer shot from Draco's mouth quickly, then he seemed to grow a guilty look on his face and added, in an equally hurried tone: " I don't know."

He looked down at his hands and then rubbed them together. It was cold, after all. Harry watched him curiously. Then, Draco stood, and said: " I'll be going. I have some better things to do with my time, Potter."

It wasn't Harry anymore, this time he was back to calling him Potter. Perhaps the mentioning of Rebecca to him didn't bring up too much of a friendly chord inside of him.

Harry realized it was no use talking to Draco Malfoy, anyhow, and he began the solitary walk back towards Hogwarts.

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Professor McGonagall was standing, as usual, just beside her classroom. Her eyes, stern and waiting, stopped on Harry Potter. The boy looked to be in deep thought, and as he stepped through the doorway and into Hogwarts, she noted how he stumbled on the top step, then cursed slightly and kept going. He must have been very distracted by something.

Professor McGonagall's eyes flashed with thought. Perhaps it was something to do with Hermione! She, herself, had spoken with Hermione and she noticed that Hermione liked Harry a lot, and perhaps crossing into the threshold and into where they could be more then friends.

Being a teacher and full of other duties, Professor McGonagall rarely took much interest into the affairs of her students outside of school. She seemed most interested in Harry's affairs, though, out of all the students. And perhaps Fred and George Weasley's affairs, since they seemed hell-bent on creating mischief.

" Harry?" Professor McGonagall spoke, just as the boy passed her.

" Oh, hello, Professor." Harry turned to her, and then thought: 'What could she possibly want? It's a Sunday.'

" I see something's troubling you. Would you like to talk about it?" The professor seemed genuinely concerned, which surprised Harry. He hadn't really thought that teachers had much of a life outside of school before. Then again, Hogwarts was an odd place anyhow.

Harry remembered how Dudley once told him about the teachers in Dudley's school. Dudley had mostly complaints, and since this conversation with Dudley had been a good eight years ago, it was also full of fictitious beliefs that little children might have. Dudley had explained whole- heartedly to Harry that teachers lived in school and that they ate from the lunchroom, they used the school bathrooms, and the huge cupboards in each room could be opened and one of those pull-out beds appeared. Harry didn't really believe this, since he figured Dudley would always pull his leg anyhow.

" It's not much." Harry replied. " I'm just thinking."

" It seems like it's a lot to me." Professor McGonagall said in a voice prompting to hear more.

" It's just. . . so much is happening." Harry began. " I hate having too many changes. I just want to be a normal kid. Then when I was eleven the whole entire world pretty much changed for me. And since then, there's been so much happening, so many twists and turns. It's really quite tiresome after a while." Harry stopped and looked up at the professor's face. She seemed to be taking it seriously so far.

" Change is good, Harry." Professor McGonagall replied. " You shouldn't worry so much and be more acceptant of what happens."

" That's sound advice, and all, but I don't think that things should change so fast for me, anyhow." Harry said this opinion with a sad face. Then, he remembered some of the good changes - him and Hermione getting together, seeing how girls seemed to like him a lot more these days. He added: " I think I see your point, a bit."

" Good." Professor McGonagall and Harry were now before the dining hall, in which dinner was just being served for the students that felt hungry. Harry smiled at professor McGonagall and told her: " Thank you, for the talk."

" Harry, I have a question, though. What changes do you mean? I don't think much happened to you this year." She suddenly looked upset. " Other then with your owl - dreadfully sorry to bring that up."

" It's alright." Harry said, quickly, then realized people still thought Hedgwig was dead. Maybe it was for the better, since then Rebecca won't try to go after the real Hedgwig. " Well, some of the things that are changing too fast - well, me being captain and all. It's really hard."

" But you're doing a great job!" The Professor replied. "Gryffindor is happily winning every match."

" Yeah, I guess." Harry grinned slightly. " We're up with Slytherin again in two weeks, at the next game, you know. I hope Malfoy doesn't kill me if his team loses against me again. He hates losing."

" Draco's a tough spirit." Professor McGonagall smiled. " I think he's a good person deep inside."

" Real deep inside." Harry said, and the professor laughed. Then, she patted Harry's shoulder and said:

" I'll let you be, then, Harry. I have to speak with a certain Fred Weasley." She didn't look too happy with that.

Harry smiled and waved her goodbye, then walked into the dining hall for his dinner, as well. Not many people were there, including Hermione. She must have still been up in the library. Hermione was really trying hard to find things on the Whitescales, since she believed that there was something even more to do with them that Voldemort chose these creatures.

If she only knew that Voldemort already had an English Whitescale! Harry still battled deep in his mind whether he should break his promise to Ron and keep his promise to Hermione, or keep his promise to Ron and break his promise to Hermione. It was an awful choice and he wished he didn't have to make it.

Harry sat down beside Ron, and Ron turned to him and exclaimed: "Harry! I can't believe you're here."

" Why wouldn't I be?" Harry asked.

" I figured you'll spend dinner kissing with Hermione, like last time." Ron teased, and then laughed. Nick Chang from across the table also laughed, then Nick added:

" So when's the wedding?"

Harry's ears felt as if on fire as he said: " You guys!"

Nick laughed again, then turned to another first year named Patrick O'Connor, who was leading an avid conversation with others his age about the upcoming Quidditch match for Gryffindor, against Slytherin.

Ron, meanwhile, had his own conversation with Harry: "You know, Harry, I think that something is genuinely wrong with Charlie."

" Why? What's happened to him?" Harry asked, concerned.

" His scar is bleeding really bad now. He's in a hospital." Ron said, his voice low so nobody else could hear.

" That's terrible!" Harry exclaimed. " Can't they stop the blood flow?"

" It won't cease. In fact, it's getting more and more severe. The doctors can't even explain it. We had the best wizard doctor in England come to check him out, and even he can't explain it. And the problem is, the Ministry of Magic is still dragging the case really slowly. They are all debating over whether to zap the scar off or to save it as evidence." Ron looked mad. " My dad is having a hell of a time trying to get things to go in favor of our family, not in favor of the Ministry."

" Man." Harry sighed. " If they save the scar any longer, then it'll be Charlie that'll need saving."

" I know." Ron sighed. " I only hope that. . ."

Just then, Cho tapped Harry's shoulder, much to Harry's amazement. He turned to look at her, and she grinned. "Hi, Harry." Cho said, and then sat down beside him. " Can I talk to you?"

" Uh. . . sure." Harry said.

" Not here, though. Maybe more in private." Cho's cheeks flushed.

Harry didn't know what to say. He scanned the faces of the kids around him to see what he should do, and Ron pushed him up to his feet. "Go, Harry. Can't keep a pretty girl waiting."

Cho blushed even deeper, and then assured Harry: " It won't be long."

Harry followed her outside of the dining hall, and when they were standing out in the hallway, he told him: " Harry, I need you to do something for me."

" What?" Harry asked her.

" Kind of avoid Rebecca." She looked nervous as she said it.

" I'm already trying to. Why?" Harry questioned.

" She's really mad about how you beat her team. She's not really a good sport, or whatever." Cho looked down at her pink fingernails, then added: " I don't want her to yell at you or something. She might get sort of in a cat fight mood if you catch her on a worse day."

" Oh." Harry smiled, knowing that getting YELLED at by Rebecca was the least of his worries. " Uh, I have a question for you, Cho."

" What is it?" She asked, her brown eyes sparkling suddenly.

Harry hoped that she didn't think he was going to ask her something personal. He simply said: " Does Rebecca ever mention me in conversation at all?"

Cho looked thoughtful for a minute, then said: " Not really. It's sort of a woman's intuition, knowing she might be mad at you."

" Did she, perhaps, say something like 'Say, I think I'd like to go kill Harry'?" Harry asked.

" Why on EARTH would she say that?" Cho's eyes widened, and she looked really quizzical now.

Harry replied, innocently: " I dunno."

Cho raised her eyebrows and said: " I don't think Rebecca would do something THAT mean, Harry."

" I guess you're right. Well, thanks for the warning." Harry told her, and then added: " Have a nice Sunday."

" You too." Cho replied, and then Harry went back into the dining hall.

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Harry went up to the owlery that very evening, around eight at night, to check on Hedgwig. Hedgwig's wing had been healing well and he hoped he could try her out for another test flight today. As he slowly opened the heavy oak door to the owlery, he heard someone bustling around inside.

Harry's breath caught inside his throat and he peeked with one eye at the person inside the owlery.

It was Rebecca.

She was tying something onto the leg of her own owl, which was a short stocky one with brown feathers, tipped with black. This owl had a nasty look to it, and she talked to it as she gave him the letter:

" So, ready for a nice flight? Remember vhere the bookstore is?"

The owl hooted angrily, as if saying: 'Of course I remember! Do you think I'm stupid?'

Harry slowly edged a bit more to the side of the owlery door, knowing that Rebecca was only a few feet away and might see him. From this position he observed as she suddenly dropped the letter. It fell face first just inches from the door.

Rebecca turned, and Harry immediately moved his head from the little crack the doorway made. He saw from the corner of his eye that the letter, indeed, was directed to a bookstore.

What would Rebecca want from a bookstore?

Harry waited until Rebecca had picked up the letter again, and then he bolted away from the door, knowing that if Rebecca caught him there he wouldn't be too lucky.