Chapter 13: Hidden Treasures
The next time Harry opened his eyes it was to find that a shaft of sunlight was piercing through the gap in his curtains. He pushed the heavy crimson velvet aside, and reached for his glasses, and watch which read three minutes past eleven. Harry dressed slowly in the otherwise empty dormitory and checked his appearance in the mirror which told him, "Your hair looks like a bird tried to nest there dear."
Harry smiled, "I know, it always does." He thought back to his conversation at dinner, and briefly considered at least asking the girls if there was something that could "make his hair behave," as Hermione had said.
He went down to the common room to find Seamus teaching Dean how to play wizard's chess. The Muggle born boy wasn't very good yet, and the pieces kept shouting bits of advice at him. Harry winced in sympathy as a bishop complained, "Don't send me there! Can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him." The indicated piece was a rook, which immediately began to complain that it was more valuable.
"Looks like you'll have a revolt on your hands if you're not careful, Dean."
"Yeah, I know…" the black boy sighed as he gestured at the board. "It's just a lot to remember, and they don't trust me yet, which makes things so much more difficult."
Seamus asked, "Do you play Harry?"
"A bit," he said vaguely, though he thought back to the many games he'd played with Draco's father. "I've never played with a wizard chess set before though, but I taught myself with a set I found in my cousin's second—I mean—in my bedroom." He turned to Dean and asked, "Do you think it would help if you learned how to play the Muggle way first?"
"It might, it would be less distracting for one thing, and I think I'd learn how the pieces move better if I had to move them myself."
"But that sounds like so much work." Seamus complained, "but I'll try it if you think it will help."
"Let me run up to our dorm and get it." Harry stood from his favorite armchair and headed up the boys' staircase, thinking quickly how he was going to pull this off. There was a disused chess set Dudley had received as a gift that currently resided in Harry's bedroom at Private Drive. He would need Woody's help for this, but even with the house elf's assistance it would be tricky, and he'd have to hope his Aunt Petunia wouldn't be close enough to hear their arrival. When he was alone in the dormitory, he closed the door and called, "Woody, can you come here please."
With a pop the old house elf appeared before him and bowed deeply, "How can Woody be of service to young master Harry today?"
Harry smiled fondly down at the elf, "Well this is going to be an odd request, but I need to go to my muggle relatives' house."
Woody's brow wrinkled in confusion, "Why would young master wish to go there? Woody thought he was not happy with those people."
"I wasn't happy with them," Harry ran a hand through his hair, "but this is to help one of the other students. I need to get something from my old bedroom for them."
"Woody could get this thing for young master."
Harry shook his head, "It would be better if I went to get it, I know about where it is, and if you take a while to find it my aunt might find you searching… If she discovered you, she wouldn't understand why you were there, and things could get complicated." He shrugged pointing toward the door, "My friends are also waiting downstairs, and they think I already have the item in question."
"Very well, young master, Woody promised that he would help Mr. Potter with whatever he needed." The old elf looked like he still didn't approve of the plan, "What is the name of the place where you wish to go?"
"Number 4 Private Drive, Little Winging, Surrey." Harry recited clearly. "You will be able to find it, won't you?"
"Yes, young master," Woody extended his hand out to Harry and said, "Hold on tight and Woody will take you there."
Harry clasped the thin fingers which gripped his hand with surprising strength. Then he drew in a breath before the compressing darkness surrounded him. He felt as if there were tight cords wrapped around his chest, squeezing his insides, and his whole body felt like it was being compressed through a narrow tube. The only comforting thing was Woody's hand clutched in his own.
Quite suddenly Harry found himself standing in the back garden, looking up at the house where he'd grown up. He squinted in the autumn sunlight and glanced around. Fortunately, none of the neighbors were looking out their windows, and he saw no sign of his relatives. Even so Harry squatted down beside one of the neatly manicured shrubs and beckoned the elf over to join him.
"Stay low," Harry whispered. "I don't want anyone to know that we're here." He glanced over the foliage to look up at the house. "Do you think you could get me inside the house?"
The elf was peering through the leaves, "Yes Woody believes so, but there is much magic around the house."
"Really?" Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "What type of magic?" What if his aunt was a witch after all, and had never told her husband? That was about as believable as anything else Harry had learned since his eleventh birthday, but then why would she be so resentful about his Mum's and his own magic?
"It is strong old magic, protective magic, like the type that surrounds Malfoy Manor, but it is also different somehow…"
"Do you think you'll be able to get us upstairs?" He pointed to the window of Dudley's second bedroom, which had become his once the Hogwarts' letters started arriving. The elf nodded and stuck out his hand for Harry once more. A short but uncomfortable moment later Harry found himself standing in the middle of the smallest bedroom.
The room looked much the same as it had the last time Harry had set foot inside it. The alarm clock he had repaired last summer sat on the nightstand. Most of the room was still cluttered with odds and ends from presents his cousin had received, used until they were broken, and then discarded. There was a bookcase lined with dusty volumes of various size; Aunt Petunia had obviously not been in here to tidy in a while. Some of Harry's secondhand clothes were strewn across the bed, evidence of the hasty packing he'd done before their flight from the house over the summer.
Harry crossed the room and opened the door of the wardrobe. It was strange to see himself in the mirror wearing his wizard's robes, with the room's contents reflected behind him. He looked up to the top shelf where boxes containing boardgames were gathering dust. Being short for his age, Harry had to step onto the floor of the wardrobe to be able to reach the boxes, and he tried to pull the chess set from the pile.
There was an urgent tug on his robes, and he looked down to see Woody staring up at him with a worried expression; his brown eyes were wide, and his ears perked for any sound as he whispered, "Let Woody climb up and get the box, or the whole stack might come down on master's head."
"Right…" Harry stepped down from the wardrobe and peered up at the boxes. He could see where they were leaning a bit precariously now, "That would have been bad if it all fell." He turned back to Woody to see that the house elf had refashioned the tea towel he usually wore as a toga, into a loincloth of sorts. "Let me give you a boost."
Harry knelt so Woody could fasten his thin arms around Harry's neck. From there Woody clambered up onto the boy's shoulder's and grasped a handful of his hair to steady himself for a moment.
"Ouch!" Harry hissed.
"Sorry, young master." Woody muttered as he climbed onto the shelf. "Which box is Mr. Potter wanting?"
"The muggle chess set," Harry pointed to the box near the bottom of the stack.
He watched in awe as Woody unstacked the boxes, shifting them to the side one by one, until the box they'd come for was exposed. The elf then handed it down toward Harry who took it. He placed the box on the bed and watched as Woody carefully replaced all the other boxes, before starting to climb down. Unfortunately, his foot got caught on one of Dudley's old sweatshirts, and he ended up dangling with it by a wire hanger. Harry rushed over to try to help, he slid his arms beneath the elf and supported his weight while Woody disentangled himself from the hanging clothes. Harry marveled at the fact that Woody hadn't made a sound, except for the smallest gasp of surprise when he'd first fallen. After a moment's struggle Woody managed to free his foot, and Harry sat him gingerly down on the ground.
"Thank you for helping Woody, Young Master." Woody wiped his brow with the tea towel before draping it around himself once more.
"I wasn't going to just stand there while you were in trouble." Harry said with a sheepish grin, "especially since I'm the reason you got into that position in the first place."
Woody walked over to examine the box, "If Mr. Potter wanted a chess set, Woody could have brought one from the manor, or Madame Malfoy would have been delighted to be able to buy another gift for you."
Harry shook his head, "I know you could have, but those belong to the Malfoys and Horatio knows them not me." Harry lifted the box into his arms and opened it. He knew he'd have to get rid of all the packaging, because it wouldn't be there if he'd supposedly taught himself chess using this board. He slid the wooden felt-lined board from the box and promptly inhaled a lot of dust. He dropped the empty box on the floor and tried to bring his arm up to muffle the sound, but it was too late. A loud sneeze ripped through the bedroom, as his nose tried to expel all the irritating dust. The boy and elf froze, both staring at each other and waiting to see if they'd been discovered.
The bottom stair creaked as someone began to ascend to the second floor. Harry quickly kicked the empty box under the bed, and grabbed Woody in his free arm, dragging the house elf toward the wardrobe, and closing the door on them both.
Harry wiped his nose, "I'm sorry about that, we had to hide quickly."
"We should go." Woody hissed, as he peered through a small gap in the door.
"We can't," Harry sighed. "Whoever is out there would hear you disapparate." He could vaguely hear other doors on the landing opening and closing. "We'll have to wait it out."
"Not if we use the time necklace," Woody glanced up. "Does you have it with you?"
"Yes, I think so, here hold this." He passed the board to the elf and pulled out the mokeskin pouch. He retrieved the time turner and placed the thin chain around his neck. He lifted Woody more gently this time and placed it around his neck as well. Then he turned the hourglass over once. The feeling of time rushing backwards was odd indeed while he was surrounded by his old ill-fitting wardrobe. When the sensation stopped Harry expected the house to be silent, but it wasn't.
He could hear his aunt's voice in the next room, but it sounded like she was crying. Harry could never remember hearing his aunt really cry, except for transports of delight about her perfect son. She was crying now, and trying to say something through her tears, but he couldn't make it out through the wall. He carefully removed the gold chain from around his and Woody's necks and tucked the time turner back into its hiding place. He opened the door to the wardrobe and stepped out into the bedroom. Harry crossed the room toward the door, but Woody grabbed a fistful of his robes again. He turned back to look at the elf whose eyebrows were raised in question.
"My Aunt Petunia is upset, I wanted to…" but what did Harry want really? To comfort her? She had certainly never done so when he cried in his cupboard when he was small, before he knew that no one would come. Did he want to just see her in pain, to see that she could really do something as human as cry? He had no idea, but he knew he had to go to her, it was a feeling as deep as the magic he felt when he touched one of his two wands. "Stay here, I'll be right back, I promise." Woody let him go after that, and Harry slipped quietly out of the bedroom, and pressed his ear against his aunt and uncle's door.
"Repario… no, no, that's not right… Repairo!" There was a fresh wave of sobs. "Why can't you work for me? She's not even here, she can't use you…" He heard a deep shuddering sigh, "Why do I still try? Maybe it's the boy, has he gone with him off to Hogwarts, just like she did, and like I never could?"
Harry backed away from the door, his brow furrowed in confusion as questions raced around in his mind. Was Aunt Petunia really trying to do magic? Did she have his mother's wand, it had to be hers… How had Aunt Petunia gotten it, and what was she so desperate to mend, that she would try to use magic to do so? He turned to find Woody standing behind him on the landing, with the chess set held securely in his arms. Harry held out his hand, a mute invitation for Woody to take them away from there, he needed to get away from this house, and away from his mother's sister, before he burst into her room and demanded to know what she was on about.
Woody obliged, taking Harry's hand, and transporting them back to the dormitory. When the world resolved itself again, Harry glanced around to make sure they were alone and sank onto his bed. Woody placed the chessboard on the bed beside him and stepped back respectfully. His ears drooped as he watched the young wizard clearly in distress. "Is there anything Woody can do to help?" Harry shook his head, still feeling confused by what he'd overheard earlier. To give himself something to do with his hands, Harry opened the chessboard, and dumped the pieces into their felt-lined compartment. He picked up the white queen and turned it over and over in his hands.
After a few minutes Harry remembered that soon he would be coming in here, to ask for Woody's help to get the chess set. He glanced up and patted the space beside him, "Woody come sit here, we need to be out of sight…" His voice sounded strange to him, distant and flat as if all the life had been sucked out of it. Woody climbed onto the bed beside him and closed the hangings around them. No sooner had he done so than Harry's past self entered the room.
The Harry, who had just entered the room, closed the door, and called, "Woody, can you come here please."
With a pop the old house elf appeared before him and bowed deeply, "How can Woody be of service to young master Harry today?"
The Woody, who was on the bed, suppressed a gasp as he watched his past self. Harry whispered in his bat like ear, "Shhh, we can't make a sound." The Woody hidden on the bed fell silent at once, though he continued to stare at the events unfolding on the other side of the hangings.
Past-Harry smiled fondly down at Past-Woody, "Well this is going to be an odd request, but I need to go to my muggle relatives' house."
The house elf standing in the middle of the room, wrinkled his brow in confusion, "Why would young master wish to go there? Woody thought he was not happy with them people."
"I wasn't happy with them," Harry ran a hand through his hair, "but this is to help one of the other students. I need to get something from my old bedroom for them."
"Woody could get this thing for young master."
Harry shook his head, "It would be better if I went to get it, I know about where it is, and if you take a while to find it my aunt might find you searching… If she discovered you, she wouldn't understand why you were there, and things could get complicated." He shrugged pointing toward the door, "My friends are also waiting downstairs, and they think I already have the item in question."
"Very well, young master, Woody promised that he would help Mr. Potter with whatever he needed." The old elf looked like he still didn't approve of the plan, "What is the name of the place where you wish to go?"
"Number 4 Private Drive, Little Winging, Surrey." Harry recited clearly. "You will be able to find it, won't you?"
"Yes, young master," Woody extended his hand out to Harry and said, "Hold on tight and Woody will take you there." Harry clasped the thin fingers and the pair disappeared with a faint pop.
The young wizard and house elf still seated on the bed visibly relaxed. Harry turned to Woody, "I'm so sorry, that must have been very strange for you…"
The old house elf rubbed at his eyes as if trying to block out his most recent sight, he shook his head vigorously, so his ears flapped, "It was the strangest thing Woody has ever seen before."
"I'm really, really, sorry." Harry shook his head, "Maybe I shouldn't have gone there, or shouldn't have listened at the door." He put the white queen back into the chessboard and closed the lid. Running a hand over the smooth checkered surface before looking up at Woody once more, "Do you think, you could do one more thing for me before you go?"
The house elf looked up, and as his brown eyes met Harry's he saw sympathy in Woody's eyes, "If it will help young master feel better, Woody will try."
Harry hesitated, not knowing if this would really help him, or just make him more confused, after a moment he asked, "Can you—try to find out—what it is my aunt was trying to repair? I feel like it's important somehow… Like I could understand her better, and maybe my Mum too."
Woody nodded and climbed off the bed, smoothing his tea towel as he went. "Should Woody use the time necklace again?"
Harry shook his head, "There are already enough versions of us running around in that small space of time, and that small of an area. Just, try to keep an eye out if she tries again." Harry frowned as he thought, "it will be when she has the house to herself. I just don't see her trying to do magic with her husband around." The name Uncle Vernon was still bitter in his mouth, they weren't blood and the man had certainly never treated Harry like family. He lifted the chessboard into his arms and smiled at the house elf, "Thank you for your help, Woody, I don't think I say it enough, but I couldn't do any of this without you."
Woody bowed deeply, so his nose almost brushed the stone floor, "Woody is honored to serve one so noble as Harry Potter."
Harry's face scrunched in discomfort, "I don't know that I'm noble and all of that…" he gestured vaguely with his free hand.
The elf straightened and shook his head, "You still do not understand what you mean to us sir. When the Dark Lord was strong many of my kind, and other magical creatures, were treated filth… They were dark days indeed." Lines deepened on the old elf's face, and his eyes held a distant look for a moment. "Some would be killed for sport, no different than a fox. Others would have to punish themselves for the smallest error." Woody's brown eyes met Harrys green ones and he smiled, "but now we are treated much better, and that is because you lived sir, and the Dark Lord was destroyed. Our wizard families' lives are better and so they treat us better. Do you understand what Woody means, Mr. Potter?"
He thought back to the conversation the boys had as they went down to the common room on their very first morning. Neville had said he was a symbol that the dark days were at an end, which is much the same as what Woody had just said. Harry was beginning to understand that it wasn't what he had done, or even how that mattered to most people. What mattered to all those people who stared at him and who fell all over themselves to meet him, was that he had done it, he had survived, and Voldemort's power over all of them had been broken. Seamus had summed it up quite simply, "You're like Wizard Jesus."
"Yes, I think I do…." Harry suddenly gasped and jumped up from the bed. He had suddenly remembered that Seamus and Dean were waiting downstairs for him in the common room. "I'm sorry Woody but I have to go, thank you again, and I'll do my best to keep what you said in mind." Harry tucked the chessboard under his arm as he crossed the room and opened the door. A faint pop behind him told him that Woody had gone.
"What took you so long?" Seamus asked as Harry joined them, "Did you have to go all the way home to get it?"
If only you knew… Harry thought as he laughed at Seamus' joke, "No but it did end up at the bottom of my trunk."
He sat down at the boys' table and placed the board in the space that had been cleared between them. He opened the board and scooped up the two sides' pieces. The "white" pieces were made of a honey brown wood, and the "black" pieces were darker brown. It also held an even number of little round pieces in the same colors, which could be used for checkers, or another game that Harry wasn't familiar with, that could be played on the reverse side of the board. There were also two six-sided dice and the same number of oddly shaped cups, presumably for the same game.
Harry turned to Dean, "Why don't you set up your pieces."
"I don't know, Harry." Dean held one of the rooks in his hand, "I might not put them in the right places."
"Its alright, we'll fix them if you go wrong, then we can go over the movement of each piece." Harry remembered Lucius' words to him over the summer being almost exactly what he was saying now. It was strange for him to suddenly be teaching something to someone else, but it was also strangely rewarding. Dean set up his side, and Seamus did the same opposite. For all his complaining about how hard it would be the Irish boy made quick work of setting up the board. Dean's pieces were almost right, but he'd switched the position of the nights and bishops which Harry corrected.
"Sorry mate," Dean sighed.
"It's alright," Harry grinned. "You're still learning, you'll get the hang of it. Now can you show me how each of the pieces moves?"
Dean did very well on this too, until he got to demonstrating the knights, the piece in his hand wandered vaguely in a square and ended up right where it had started from. "That's not right, is it?" Dean asked with a furrowed brow.
Harry shook his head slightly, "The knights move in sort of an L-shape." He demonstrated with Dean's other knight, "one up and two over, or else two up and one over, they can also move backwards in the same way. The most important thing to remember about the knights is that they are the only piece that can jump over an occupied square." He demonstrated again, pointing out the knight's path over the pawn that sat in front of it.
Harry glanced at Seamus as well, "A good idea to start with is to keep your hand on a piece until you're sure that that is the move you want to make. If you're not happy and you haven't let go of the piece, you can move it back and try again." He focused on the sandy haired boy, "and for the better player, it is better to play to teach, not to play to win."
"Oh, but winnin' be the point, isn't it?" Seamus quipped back with an impish grin.
"Yes, it is, but it's also frustrating for the less experienced player," Harry shrugged selling the self-taught story, "at least that's what I read when I was learning."
"So, you never actually played against another player?" Dean asked.
"A couple games in the park, but my cousin—teased me for it—so I didn't go back."
"Your cousin sounds like a real git." Dean put his knight back at starting position. "I bet he had a bunch of pals who were just as mean and loud as him, am I right?"
"Yep," Harry nodded fervently, "and the biggest and the meanest is usually the leader, which in my case is my cousin."
"I'm surprised that didn't offer you some protection," Seamus scratched his chin, "being his relative and all."
"Protection?" Harry laughed at the absurdity of the idea. "I was their prime target, at school, in the neighborhood, even at home. Sometimes I'd get myself in trouble just to keep away from him and his little gang."
"That's not right," Dean said. "Family is supposed to stick together." Seamus nodded.
Not keen for the subject to continue, Harry gestured to the board, "Shall we see what you can do Dean, and Seamus remember you're trying to teach him not completely thrash him."
"Alright, I'll remember." Seamus rested his chin on his hand as he studied the board. "It's going to take me some getting used to moving the pieces meself. I tried to play with me Da, but it wasn't really his cuppa tea." He reached out and moved his queen's pawn forward two spaces. "You're move Dean."
Dean sat for a while before finally echoing Seamus move so the two pawns were facing one another. Then Seamus moved his dark square bishop past the space where his pawn had been. Harry watched as the two played; he could always tell when the Irish boy would stay his hand and not take an obvious open, if his friend would make a move that put a piece in danger, Seamus verdigris eyes would light up and his fingers would twitch toward the piece that could immediately take one of the black pieces. Then one of the two would point out the danger of the move he had just made. Sometimes Dean would be frustrated, smacking his hand across his forehead, and other times he would sigh and move the piece back to try again, and still other times he would gesture for Sheamus to take the piece. Finally, after twenty minutes Dean looked up from the board and toppled his king.
Seamus offered his most charming grin, "Good game, wand to play another?"
Dean shook his head, rubbing his forehead, "My head hurts, maybe you and Harry can have a go."
"Sure," Harry said, his stomach gurgled in protest, "but maybe after lunch?" he asked hopefully.
"Works for me," Seamus said amiably as he began to pack up the pieces. To Dean he said, "Don't get discouraged, you're doing better than when we played with my set."
"That's because the pieces weren't shouting at me when I made mistakes." Dean lifted the chessboard from the base to allow Seamus to put the pieces back inside. "What's all this?" he asked, as he turned over the board to reveal groups of alternating triangles.
"That's backgammon that is," Seamus said, pointing to the dice and cups inside the board, "You use those and the bits… er checkers." He shrugged as he finished putting away all the chessmen. "The rules are kinda complicated."
Dean snorted, "I bet they're not more complicated than chess."
Harry picked up the small book of instructions from inside the board, "I guess we could all figure that out after lunch, if you both like."
"Oh no you don't Potter!" Seamus waggled a finger at him. "You're not getting outta being slaughtered by me in chess."
"Alright, alright," Harry chuckled, amazed at how the two boys had cheered him up so completely after the ordeal on Private Drive. "I'll face you, and then we can try out this other game."
The door to the girls' dormitories opened and a group of first years filed out. Isabel held the door open for the others; Lavender came next, shaking her hands to dry the blue polish on her nails, and matching ribbons adorned the end of her pigtails; Parvati followed, and she was sporting a few silk flours woven into her long plait, her nails were painted pink. Esme and Hermione came out together, both girls' hair was sleek and shiny, Esme's was loose down her back, but Hermione's was twisted up into a knot atop her head and adorned with a gold butterfly clip.
The gameboard slipped from Dean's fingers as he stared at the girls approaching their table, but fortunately he managed to catch the board before it hit the floor. Seamus hadn't spotted the newcomers yet, and looked from one stunned face to the next, "What? Have I got something on me face? If so one of you should have told—"
Parvati tapped him on the shoulder and said through a fit of giggles, "I think they're staring at us."
Seamus spun around, to tell her not to sneak up on him, but instead he said, "Mother Mary and Joseph-you lot look—different."
This made the girls laugh, even the usually stoic Isabel. Harry hadn't noticed before because her back had been to the room as she held the door, but her hair was glossy and less frizzy too, but she'd left the curls, and a quick glance showed she'd used a clear glossy polish rather than color. The changes were subtler, but the other girls had obviously roped her into things. "Why are you starin at me, Potter?" she asked with an arched brow.
"I wasn—I mean um—I'm sorry." He blushed, rubbing the back of his neck in a self-conscious sort of way. "I was just admiring your hair, and the polish you used." He glanced at the other girls, "You're all, quite pretty."
Dean was still studying the girls, "The colors you each chose complement your coloring or your eyes, and each of your personality shows in your hair style."
Seamus squinted at his friend, "Ok Dean, how can you go from droppin things one moment to talkin like that the next?"
Dean's dark coloring couldn't entirely hide the blush that colored his cheeks, "I'm an artist, I notice things like that."
"I'm an artiest," Seamus put air quotes around the last word and shook his head.
Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it; the sight of her familiarly large front teeth was welcome amidst all the changes. Harry looked at her quizzically and she shook her head, mouthing the word "Later."
"So, are you all ready for lunch?" Harry asked as he glanced down at his watch, it was past noon now, but with a more relaxed schedule he wouldn't need to turn back yet."
"Let me go open the portrait hole, so none of you ladies break a nail." Seamus smirked as he headed in that direction.
A few of the girls made annoyed noises at his remark, and Isabel rolled her eyes. As Harry turned to follow, he felt a hand on his arm. He turned expecting to see Hermione, but it was Parvati. She pointed toward the gameboard that was still sitting on the table.
"Is that board yours?"
"It is, if you want to play I don't mind, but Seamus has first dibs after lunch. He wants to play against me."
"That's not it, I mean I can play, but I just wondered…" She glanced down at the empty board again before asking, "Don't you think you should put it in your dormitory?"
Harry shrugged, "I think it will be alright there."
Parvati glanced around, to see who was in earshot before saying, "What about the Weasley twins? They might decide to make the pieces move or something."
"Fair point," Harry grimaced at the thought of teaching Dean with runaway pieces and gathered the box into his hands. "I'm going to nip upstairs and put this away."
"Want us to wait for you?" Hermione asked, and when he shook his head, she looked a little put out.
"Alright, you can if you want." Harry amended as he headed for the door to the boys' dormitories, the pieces rattling gently in the box as he carried it.
The chatter in the common room gave way to relative silence on the stairs. As Harry climbed the tower, he thought about everything that had happened to him that morning. He'd gone on what should have been a simple errand, and ended up nearly being caught, and learning things that he probably shouldn't have. He supposed it was only natural that someone would have placed magical protections around the place where he lived, but who had placed them there? Why was Aunt Petunia and her family the best choice to raise him? Did whoever left him there even think about checking on him in the past ten years? The most puzzling of all was Aunt Petunia—she had her perfect little life, with her husband and his good paying job, and her son who she doted on constantly—what did she have to complain about?
Harry shook his head to rid it of these questions as he placed the gameboard on his bed. He turned to leave the room when a pop announced the arrival of a house elf. Woody appeared before Harry in almost the exact spot where he had stood that morning, and bowed respectfully before asking, "Is this a good time for Woody to make his report?"
Harry glanced toward the door, "My friends are waiting downstairs, but yes I would like to know what you've found out."
Woody straightened and began to explain, "Harry's Aunt Petuny was in her bedroom still, so Woody waited for himself and Harry to leave." The elf shut his eyes as if that was still an unpleasant experience. "Then I caused a distraction so she would leave the room." Harry arched his eyebrows but decided not to ask, "Harry's Aunt Petuny went downstairs as Woody planned, and I slipped into the bedroom. On the bed was a locket, Woody tried to open it, but the clasp was all melted, and the chain was broken too." To Harry's astonishment Woody held out the trinket in question.
Harry took the locket to examine it more closely. It was as Woody had said, a little heart-shaped gold locket that looked like it had been half melted. There was a word engraved on the front, only the letters "S i s" were legible, but Harry could guess what the rest of the word used to be. He knew there must be a picture inside, though what condition it was in now was anyone's guess. He wanted very much to see it open but was afraid that trying to force it open would damage the contents. He didn't know any spells that could help him yet, and he looked about the room as if searching for a solution. He turned back to Woody to ask a question, but there was a knock at the door, and as planned in these situations Woody dissapparated on the spot.
Harry turned toward the door to see Hermione peeking into the room. She said, "I know we're not really supposed to be up here, but I came to tell you that the others had gone down to lunch."
He hastily stuffed the locket out of sight and offered her an apologetic smile, "No it's alright, I'm sorry I took so long."
Her brown eyes followed the movement of his hand as he stowed the locket, brows furrowing as she asked, "Was that a necklace? I saw the chain was broken, and I know a spell that could fix it."
"Well, it's not just a necklace—" Harry said as he fished it gently out of his pocket, "—and the chain isn't even the main thing that's wrong with it." He hesitated before holding out the locket to her with it resting in the center of his palm.
She winced as she saw the condition it was in, she lifted a hand to touch the locket, but paused to ask with a glance for his permission. Harry nodded, and Hermione brushed a light finger across the damaged surface, for the first time he noticed that she'd painted her nails green. "It says sister… did you have?"
Harry's eyes widened as he realized what she was asking and he blurted, "No no, this was my aunt's, my Mum's sister."
"I'm sorry…" Hermione's cheeks flushed, "I should have remembered that you lived with your Mum's sister, and somebody would know if you had… a sister." She shook her head with a deep sigh, "I can't believe I asked that silly question."
"It's alright, you were just trying to make sense of it." Harry held up the broken chain as he asked, "You said you have a spell to mend the chain?"
Hermione nodded, "Yes a simple Reparo should do the trick." She glanced down at the locket in his hand, "but I don't know about the locket. I thought maybe the unlocking charm Alohomora, but it's not really locked, is it?" She pulled out her wand, which had odd bends in it that neither of his did and mended the chain with the previously mentioned spell and a gentle tap on the chain. Harry almost felt bad for his aunt in that moment for struggling with something that a real witch could do so easily in a second.
"What's your wand wood?" He asked Hermione, "I haven't really paid that close attention to other people's wands before, but yours looks so different."
She smiled, again showing her distinctive smile, "It's vine wood, it's thinner than most wands because of it. Mr. Olivander said that vine wands are very particular about the witch or wizard they choose."
"My wand is an Olivander one too. Did he make you try a bunch of wands before one chose you?"
She shook her head, "No, you see my wand apparently chose me when I stepped inside the shop." There was a bit of pride in her voice now, "He says he's only ever known a vine wand to do that once before, to react when the person who is destined for the wand approaches."
Harry's eyebrows rose, well that was something new for him to add to his knowledge of wand lore. "Wow, I bet that was special for you and your parents to share that moment."
"Yes, it was." Her smiled dimmed a little as she glanced back to the locket, that he still held between them, "Maybe one of the older students or a professor could help you with this?"
"Maybe," Harry said as he carried the locket to his trunk, "but I'm not really ready to share it with anyone else yet. I don't know who I should ask about it…"
"I'm sorry if my questions made you uncomfortable," Hermione put her hands over her face for a moment. "I just saw it was broken—and I wanted to help—I shouldn't have asked…"
Harry quickly tucked the locket into his mokeskin pouch while her face was covered. "Don't be silly, you did help and there's no reason to beat yourself up about it." He came over and gently tugged her hands down and squeezed them trying to reassure her.
The door opened abruptly, and Neville walked in his clothes were covered in earth and he smelled like compost, but he looked incredibly happy. He paused at the sight of his two friends holding hands and promptly backed towards the door, "I—I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." Hermione and Harry jumped apart as if an electric shock had zapped them both.
"You're not… we weren't…" Harry stammered, "doing anything."
"Everyone else went to lunch," Hermione said, "we were just talking, Neville."
"Well either way," Neville said, "it's none of my business. I just came in here to change after Herbology Club."
"Oh, did you have a good time?" Harry asked, grasping at the change in subject.
"Yeah, it was great," Neville grinned as he headed to his trunk. "One of the Hufflepuff prefects, showed us how to get the pods from a snargaluff plant." He shed his outer robe, depositing quite a lot of earth on the floor. "Well, it's more of a stump really, but don't let that fool you into thinking it's easy." He turned toward the pair of them and blushed as if he only just remembered Hermione was there. He was still wearing the white shirt, dark vest, and trousers all Hogwarts boys wore beneath their robes, but there was still a girl in their room. "Hermione do you think you could step out while I change?"
Her brown eyes widened, "Oh yes, of course, I'm sorry… I'll just wait for you both downstairs." She hurried from the room and closed the door.
In the silence that followed Neville looked at Harry, "You might want to be careful Harry."
"What do you mean?"
Neville's cheeks flushed, and he busied himself with changing clothes as he talked. "Well, if anyone knew you and Hermione were up here alone, people might talk…"
"Neville, nothing happened, we're just friends… I don't even think about anyone like that." Harry had noticed how pretty the girls looked—but he didn't want to—kiss them or whatever else you did with someone you liked that way.
"I believe you Harry," Neville sighed, taking a moment to find the right words. "It's just that other people might think something did happen, and that wouldn't be good for Hermione. People might start to say she's some sort of… some kind of…" Neville spluttered, his face turning very red now.
"They'll think what?" Harry asked.
"That she's a—scarlet woman—that's what my Gran calls them." Neville finished dressing and closed his trunk, "and Hermione has it hard enough with some circles of witches and wizards, just because she's Muggle born."
"What does one of those things have to do with the other?" Harry's annoyance was growing, it was bad enough that people would think poorly of Hermione because they were alone together talking, but to imply that she was less of a witch when he had seen her do simple magic that was beyond any muggle… It was beyond the pale. Harry knew Neville meant well, but it always bothered him that some people thought less of witches and wizards from muggle families, like his Mum and Hermione.
"Nothing," Neville said quickly. "But some people would make it into something." He sat on his bed and began to relace his trainers, "Just remember what I said on the train, a lot of things in the magical world are old fashioned, and that includes ideas about what's proper for young witches and being in a room alone with a boy is not one of them."
"I'll keep that in mind." Harry said frustratedly.
Neville stood up, "You know I don't think any less of Hermione or you. I just know how cruel other people can be."
"I know…" Harry sighed. "I'm not angry at you, it's just I hate how people are so quick to think the worst of each other."
Neville nodded, "Shall we go join Hermione, and then go meet Theo for lunch?"
"Yeah, let's do that." Harry led the way out of the room and down the stairs. Hermione was still waiting for them, she smiled when she caught sight of the two boys.
Neville did a double take when he spotted her, "Oh, Hermione I've only just noticed. Your hair really does look different, and the butterfly thing is a nice touch."
"Thanks," Hermione reached up to lightly touch the gold butterfly adorning her hair. "Parvati is lending it to me, she told me to be extra careful with it because it belonged to her grandmother."
"Oh wow, it's generous of her to let you use it then." Neville winced at the thought, "If my Gran ever trusted me with one of her heirlooms, I'd be terrified to let someone borrow it." He patted his robe pocket, "She did I suppose, because I carry my dad's wand, but that's different."
"Oh, so you didn't get your own wand then?" Hermione asked, as she climbed carefully through the portrait hole.
Neville clambered awkwardly through after her, "No, sometimes wands are inherited from one family member to another. Some of the old families have wands from famous ancestors stored in their vaults at Gringotts, or their ancestral homes." Harry thought of Lucius' wand which had been passed down through generations and was usually carried by the head of the family.
"So how did you end up with your father's wand?" Hermione asked.
Neville gulped, "I'd rather not talk about it… not just now anyway." Harry threw out an arm to stop him from stepping onto the trick step that he always forgot to jump. "What's wrong with… oh thanks Harry." Neville followed his two friends over the step, he nearly stumbled but managed to catch himself on the wall.
Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him, "You don't have to tell us Neville, forget I asked."
The round-faced boy smiled gratefully at his two friends, "I'll tell you both one day… I'm just not ready."
As Harry led the way to the Great Hall he thought, I could say the same thing. Maybe one day I'll tell them the truth about me, but not today. He turned his thoughts back to the locket that was tucked away with all his hidden treasures and wondered who he should approach to try to open it.
A/N: And there we have it, another chapter written in a week! I'm really on a role now! And don't you all worry, we'll be back with Horatio next chapter, and will finally see the long awaited Slytherin House meeting. Also, I know I'm going to be asked about ships by someone, but I'm not sure where I'm going. I know right now it's looking like Harmony, but we're still in first year, so a lot can happen between now and the end of the series. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and all the questions it raises. I'll try to have another chapter for you all next week, but I make no promises.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of J.K. Rowling and those who have the happy power to claim them. And the note about wand woods comes from the Pottermore article on the subject.
