Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Ten
A/N: Taa-daa, I've reached the double digits in my chapters, baby! And I doubt I'm even half through. mua-ah-ahhh, you have a while to put up with my nonsense yet! Hopefully this is good news to you all. ??
Wow, you people really give mixed reviews. It's like, flame-fan mail. I love it, don't get me wrong, it's just so stinkin funny! It's like "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO GEORGE, YOU'RE SICK!!" and then two sentences later, "I love your writing, never stop." I love how I've got all y'all's feelings discombobulated! My evil plan is working.
Boromir: I know, for some reason I like Alan Rickman a lot better than the other scary image of Snape. Have you ever seen Sense and Sensibility? It's so good, and he's kinda cute in it. semi-crush!
This one's for Emma Malfoy and Chibi Dude - Here's your bloody hint: This is connected to who you think it is, but probably not for the reasons you think it is. ya get it? Now off, shoo!
If ownership of Harry Potter were gasoline, I wouldn't have enough to power an ant's motorcycle around the outside of a penny! (Translation: HP ain't mine, yo)
* * * * *
Over the next few days, there became a noticeable change in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Professor Callahan's speeches lost their momentum, their sparkle. So did she; weary bags developed under her eyes and her voice softened until she was a meek witch who most likely wouldn't frighten a mouse, let alone her students. Attendance became slack, homework wasn't being done or handed in, and still she didn't seem to care. Her mistake in judging Severus's intentions made her lose her confidence in herself, and she never got any sleep because she spent each night at his bedside. Professor Callahan was definitely going nowhere, fast.
One mid-November day Hogwarts awoke to three inches of fresh, powdery snow. Care of Magical Creatures was reduced to building snowmen around Hagrid's enormous pumpkins. That morning in the Defense class, only Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville showed up. The rest of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff fifth years, who should have been in that room as well, could be heard frolicking outside.
Harry tentatively approached Professor Callahan's desk and looked expectantly at her, waiting for acknowledgement so he could speak. His only reply was a light snore from his teacher. She was out cold facedown on her desk, and Harry could guess that it was the first real sleep she'd had in at least a week. The four of them tiptoed out of the room and, once outside, Ron was ready to make a beeline outside to join in on the fun.
"Wait, Ron, don't you think this would be a perfect time to visit George?" Hermione suggested, grabbing his elbow. Ron's face paled at the mention of his brother's name, and clearly he had expected the missing twin to be out there right now with his other half, Fred. On perfect days like this it was easy to forget that there was a tragedy in their midst.
Without a word Ron changed direction and led the group to the hospital wing, where Headmaster Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey were busy fussing over somebody concealed behind a heavy curtain. George's bed was just inside the door, the lumpy body under the sheets ending unnervingly at the knees. For a full minute the four of them just stood there at the foot of his bed, hardly breathing, taking in George's serenely dreaming face oblivious to what reality had inflicted him with. Then Ron moved alongside his brother and perched on the bed next to him. The bed squeaked softly under the added weight, and Harry heard the whispers beyond the screen abruptly stop. Seconds later, Madame Pomfrey emerged looking quite surprised.
"What on earth are you all doing here at this hour?" she demanded, placing her hands on her hips huffily.
"Professor Callahan's napping, and nobody else showed up to class. We let her be and decided to come visit George, if that's all right with you ma'am." Harry answered. The nurse's face softened, and if it was the mention of Professor Callahan finally sleeping or the "ma'am" part, she let them stay.
"How is he?" Ron whispered, still gazing at his brother's lack of leg.
"Improving. I'm not going to lie to you; I don't think I can save his legs. A recently discovered spell might allow me to make something normal looking to put there, but it's very advanced and very tricky, and nine times out of ten comes out horribly wrong." said Madame Pomfrey. "There's a conference with your parents this weekend about what to do." Harry suddenly realized what must be running through the Weasley family's heads right now. Bill and his newlywed wife receiving the news, Charlie stopping between dragon-capturing to hear that his little brother melted, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hearing about their beloved boy. poor people just going on with their own lives until one evil decision of fate selected their family member. It all seemed so random, and yet designed to a painstakingly deliberate level at the same time.
"He's gonna live though, right? He'll be okay?" Ron asked fearfully.
"Of course," Madame Pomfrey answered, her eyes twinkling at Ron's worried face. "He's doing fine."
(A/N: I just know y'all are breathing sighs of relief right now, and putting down the torches you were going to flame me with if George died. Actually, that thought never occurred to me, he's too cool a guy!)
After a few more minutes of staring at George, they decided it was time to leave. Making arrangements to meet there tomorrow during lunch, everyone was walking out the door when Headmaster Dumbledore's voice rang out. "Oh Harry, can you come here for a second?" he called, and Harry turned around, surprised.
"Uh - yeah, sure." Harry replied, glancing at his friends before vanishing behind the curtain. Who he saw lying in the bed there made questions and answers pop up in his head.
"Professor Snape." breathed Harry. The Potions Master lay there, looking paler than was natural, even for him.
"Professor Callahan misunderstood Severus' intentions that night, and cast a Disarming Spell that sent him flying across the room into this, the Dalthieus Dagger." Dumbledore explained, saying things that were both new and old news to Harry.
"What were his intentions?" Harry asked, his eyes bunching up confusedly.
"Harry, you know that Severus attends Death Eater meetings regularly as a spy. Well, he discovered a plan that Voldemort is going to execute - he's after you again, Harry." said the Headmaster, but Harry showed no signs of this frightening him. "Severus knew the procedure that Voldemort had planned, but he refused to tell me because that would put my life in danger. He was the only one who knew, and the only one who could save you. He issued that 'detention' so he could have a chance to tell you in private."
"Then why didn't Professor Callahan know that?" inquired Harry, looking at Dumbledore pleadingly.
"Severus only told me about it, and I had to force it out of him. He's adamant about endangering people with information; and made me swear not to tell anyone unless it was an utter emergency, or if he. got into trouble." the old man said.
Harry understood now. Professor Callahan had been wrong. Snape had taken him to that shed to be alone, not to hurt him. Voldemort wanted to get Harry. Again. That information was so important, and now Harry's life preserve was lying in the hospital, inches from death himself.
"Harry, I want you to be safe. Voldemort can use anything to hurt you, to bring you to him. We found that out last year," Dumbledore began. "Half of me wants to put you under house arrest, have a bodyguard follow you around everywhere, and make you quit the quidditch team." Harry's eyes widened, and the word 'unfair' was on his lips when the headmaster held up a hand.
"But the other half of me thinks that that would be cowering in fear of Voldemort, and letting him win, in a way. You're a responsible and powerful wizard, Harry, and I know you're as prepared as you can be for an attack. I'm so torn, and that's why I'm letting you decide. It's your choice." When Dumbledore had finished, his face was so full of decision and expectancy that Harry had to look away as to not be influenced.
No quidditch. that felt like it would be more punishment than even Voldemort could inflict. but then again it was Harry's life, nothing to gamble with. If Harry had found out about the TriWizard Cup beforehand, would he have prevented it? Would he have turned around and said "No thanks, now guard me twenty-four seven while I sit here and watch." Could he have saved Cedric and prevented another rise of The Dark Lord?
"This isn't the past." A little voice insisted in the back of his head, and Harry knew it was right. He couldn't change anything now, and even if he had refused to be in the TriWizard Tournament, Voldemort would have found another way to get him. And besides, cowering in fear wasn't Harry's style.
"I'll keep my life the way it is now," answered Harry at length. "And don't give me a bodyguard. Anyway, they wouldn't be able to help me if the Dark Lord really put his mind to it." Also, Harry didn't want anyone else dead because of him, but he left that unsaid.
"It's your choice, Harry." Dumbledore repeated, resting his hand on Harry's shoulder and looking into those green eyes. A mental battle was clearly raging behind the old man's spectacles, deciding whether to adhere to what he'd said or not. After a moment, he seemed to reach a resolution and slowly stood up.
"Is he going to be all right?" Harry asked fearfully, turning to the old man. The boy never thought he'd actually want the hated teacher to pull through and live to torture him another day, but this was different; almost deeper, somehow.
"Well, Poppy's got him stabilized, and the poison's out of his bloodstream. Now we're just waiting. he's got to awaken sometime, let's pray for good timing to bestow it's presence once again, shall we?" Dumbledore remarked. After a second longer of staring at the steadily rising and falling chest, a sign that things might just go on, the Headmaster placed his hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Well then, you better be going. Don't you have Divination after lunch?" he instructed.
Harry groaned. "Yes. I assume that I have to go, don't I?"
"Naturally." the old man answered, steering Harry out the door and into the corridor, where the student walked down the stairs and to the Great Hall, which was just starting to fill up for lunch.
"What was that about, Harry?" Hermione asked when he sat down beside her.
"Oh, not much of anything. Stuff about school, quidditch, nothing big." Harry replied, helping himself to a ladleful of vegetable beef stew. Ron and Hermione traded looks, but left it at that.
On Friday evening, the entire Weasley family showed up at the castle door. Ron had allowed Harry and Hermione to accompany them to the meeting in Dumbledore's office, since they were practically family anyhow.
"Greetings." the headmaster said solemnly when the group reached his office, and everyone took a seat.
"How is George?" Mrs. Weasley blurted out even before she sat down. Dumbledore didn't look taken aback in the least.
"He'll live, if that's what you mean. He's healing quite nicely. I trust you understand exactly what the Acideratorr Curse does?" the old man inquired, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley nodded slowly, along with Bill, Corky, Charlie, Percy, and Ginny. Ron nodded slower than the others; he knew all too well, having seen it first hand.
"Well, the curse only made it as far as George's knees, and thanks are due to Ron for that. He assessed the damage and countered it very quickly." Immediately Ron was buried under kisses from his mother and sister and disbelieving, and admiring, looks from his brothers.
"Good job, son." Mr. Weasley said proudly, smiling weakly as best he could in that situation.
"Why I called all of you here to this meeting is to decide what method of treatment to take. As you might know, pioneers in the magical healing areas have recently discovered a spell that will transfigure tree limbs into fully functional bodily limbs, but at great risk. Once performed and attached, there is a large chance that the new appendage will be rejected by the body and turn back into a tree limb, and still be connected with the body. Nasty complications and infections could ensue, and in some cases the patient is even wholly turned into a tree." Dumbledore's speech left an astounded Weasley family with gaping mouths.
"What is the success rate?" Charlie asked softly.
"Less than fifteen percent." The headmaster replied.
"Can we let George decide?" Ginny inquired in her young, small voice.
"The only spell that relieves his pain also leaves the boy in no position to make rational decisions. And we have to act fast, because the longer he goes without decisive treatment the more likely the treatment will fail when we finally take a course of action. It's up to you, his family, to decide what George would do." All eyes turned automatically to Fred, who knew George like he knew himself.
"I dunno. what are the other options?" requested Fred.
"Two muggle prosthetic legs that we could enchant to work halfway normally, but which would make running out of the question, along with Quidditch." Dumbledore answered. Being a beater, George had to do most of the steering of his broom with his knees and legs, since he used his arms to wield the giant Bludger Bat.
At the mention of ending George's quidditch career, Fred shook his head viciously. "No, George would rather die than never play quidditch again." he stated fiercely.
"Well, he just might." Bill put in, staring at his brother meaningfully. This was an actual life or death decision. what George loved versus living without it.
After a lot of thought, Fred finally answered. "If it were me, and it nearly is, I think I'd rather deal with the muggle pro-whatcha-call-it's than risking an eighty-five percent failure rate. It's just stupid to choose a silly game over life." But everyone knew that to the twins, Quidditch was more than a 'silly game.' Graduating this year, over the summer they had already gotten many letters from professional quidditch teams offering both of them the starting beater positions. Even the England National team invited them, and that was unheard of for players their age. This could change the whole course of George's life. Of course, they always had Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which were taking off like a rocket.
"I know how hard it was for you to say that," Dumbledore remarked, giving Fred a warm look. "But that is the mature decision to make, and I'm sure George will see the truth in that. You may have just saved his life."
"Or ruined it." Fred muttered, glaring meanly at the floor. Harry understood that it was a horrible position to be put in, deciding the fate of another.
After their little meeting everyone traipsed to the other side of the school to visit George in the hospital wing. "Hello, I'm Courtney Crinkle- Weasley," The small blonde said quietly on the way. "I hadn't imagined meeting you all for the first time like this." Bill put his arm lovingly around her waist. They looked just as in love as they had in the photograph.
Hermione looked intrigued, and muttered the last name "Crinkle." under her breath. Her face grew troubled, but she stayed silent.
Madame Pomfrey looked quite put out that all these visitors were invading her hospital wing, but with Headmaster Dumbledore there she only pursed her lips and growled a little.
"He looks so. unaffected. by it all." Mrs. Weasley stated, holding her little boy's hand and stroking it.
"Don't worry, he'll be just fine. Remember when he was four, and he ate the Dropsy Dirt Detergent and coughed up bubbles for a week? The doctors said he'd never be able to go near dirt again without a serious allergic reaction, and the next week we brought him out of a garden gnome tunnel filthy as could be?" Charlie reminded everyone warmly, and Mr. Weasley laughed out loud.
"How could I forget? We thought keeping the little tyke out of dirt would be impossible, and it was. But now he's immune to it, doesn't even get the allergic reaction anymore." Mr. Weasley said, his big booming laugh ringing out again. Harry smiled, the image of a devious four-year-old red head rolling around amongst garden gnomes and dirt clods making him smile. That was so like George.
"What do you want to bet we won't be able to keep him off a broom, either. Eh?" Percy put in, with a bit of scorn mixed with amusement, and the family knew he was right. Maybe George wouldn't be able to stay on the quidditch team, but they'd have to chain him to the ground to keep him from trying to fly off of it.
That night for dinner, Dumbledore let Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Fred off campus to eat with their family in Hogsmede. The Three Broomsticks had to join four tables together to seat all of them, but it was a slow night anyhow. The only other customer was a thin little man wrapped in an enveloping olive cloak sitting at the bar with his Ogden's Old Firewhisky, swaying slightly from his utter inebriation.
"So, what'll it be?" Priscilla, one of the waitresses, asked after they'd all sat down.
"Butterbeer for all!" called Mr. Weasley. There was more of a celebratory mood now that it was known that George would be fine.
"Be out in a minute." Priscilla answered cheerfully, jotting something down and quickly walking through the double doors into the kitchen.
"So, Courtney, we haven't really gotten a chance to talk so far." Mr. Weasley remarked to his daughter-in-law.
"I know," the blonde girl replied in a high, peppy voice. "Bill and I've been so busy with moving in lately, and the wedding was so sudden -"
"It certainly was." Mrs. Weasley interrupted, evidently still fuming over being excluded from her first son's wedding.
"Oh mother, come on. Corky and I just aren't into big, fancy affairs." Bill said, glaring at his mother until she relented.
"Of course, I know. Do tell me about your house." said Mrs. Weasley apologetically. Her son beamed at her. Corky and her mother-in-law then became engrossed in interior decorating tips and color schemes, with Hermione and Ginny cooing over the pretty arrangements.
Harry could tell that Bill struck gold with Corky, in more ways than one. She was so nice to Hermione and Ginny, including them in the conversation and listening to their statements. She reminded Harry of a kindergarten teacher, which he found out later that she was, at a wizarding elementary school. And the house she described was very nice, thankfully the Weasley's didn't have to go broke paying for furniture and appliances and everything. Her family had old money, and Courtney's savings account payed for it all.
"Courtney Crinkle, I'm so glad Bill and you discovered each other!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed brightly as everyone was leaving, contented and full of the warm merriment of butterbeer.
Suddenly the creature at the bar lurched forward and spat out a bit of his firewhisky. "Courtney Crinkle, did you say?" he croaked, whipping around on his barstool and standing up. Promptly after bringing himself upright, he collapsed onto the floor. Struggling to get up with the heavy olive cloak on him, he threw it off in exasperation and everyone gasped.
It was, in fact, not a man after all. It was Victoria Callahan.
"You." Professor Callahan said, pointing her finger at Courtney, her sharp, honey-colored eyes rolling around in her head violently. "You got away."
Courtney looked petrified, staring at the woman. But everyone else was nothing short of stupefied about what exactly was going on.
"I - I have no idea what you're talking about." Corky squeaked, and dashed behind Bill. "Come on, this woman is drunk. We should leave before she hurts herself or others." she whispered to her husband, and he wrapped his arms around her protectively.
"Let's go." Bill barked to his family, and they obeyed. The children were ushered out first, with Bill and Corky last. Just as she was about to walk out the door, Professor Callahan leapt into the air and tackled the stout blonde.
"HELP ME!!" Corky screamed, grasping for Bill's hand as she fell to the floor.
"It's off to Azkaban for you, missy. You can't get away this time!" cackled Professor Callahan, pinning Corky to the ground, her voice slurred with drunkenness. The attacker raised her wand high above her head menacingly, and Bill was jolted into a more severe form of action.
"NOOOOO!!!" he screamed, said immediately afterward by "Expelliarmus!" Professor Callahan flew across the room and hit the four tables grouped together with a nasty crack, and slid to the floor, still twitching.
"What the hell was that?" Mr. Weasley roared, stepping over to the body of Victoria Callahan and kicking her over onto her back with his foot.
But nobody knew the answer.
* * * * *
A/N: Again I say, Poor Victoria Callahan. She's my own, personal character and I choose to do this to her?? Ahh, but there is a method to my madness, do not fret. In but a short week, you shall see. you shall see.
BOO!! Hahahahahahahaaaa!
All righty, your turn! Review time! It's simple, just press the little button on the bottom of the screen and PRESTO, you make my day! So, in the wise words of Clint Eastwood: "Go ahead. make my day." BY REVIEWING!!!!! (
Love from,
Saranimal
HaloGal5@aol.com
A/N: Taa-daa, I've reached the double digits in my chapters, baby! And I doubt I'm even half through. mua-ah-ahhh, you have a while to put up with my nonsense yet! Hopefully this is good news to you all. ??
Wow, you people really give mixed reviews. It's like, flame-fan mail. I love it, don't get me wrong, it's just so stinkin funny! It's like "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO GEORGE, YOU'RE SICK!!" and then two sentences later, "I love your writing, never stop." I love how I've got all y'all's feelings discombobulated! My evil plan is working.
Boromir: I know, for some reason I like Alan Rickman a lot better than the other scary image of Snape. Have you ever seen Sense and Sensibility? It's so good, and he's kinda cute in it. semi-crush!
This one's for Emma Malfoy and Chibi Dude - Here's your bloody hint: This is connected to who you think it is, but probably not for the reasons you think it is. ya get it? Now off, shoo!
If ownership of Harry Potter were gasoline, I wouldn't have enough to power an ant's motorcycle around the outside of a penny! (Translation: HP ain't mine, yo)
* * * * *
Over the next few days, there became a noticeable change in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Professor Callahan's speeches lost their momentum, their sparkle. So did she; weary bags developed under her eyes and her voice softened until she was a meek witch who most likely wouldn't frighten a mouse, let alone her students. Attendance became slack, homework wasn't being done or handed in, and still she didn't seem to care. Her mistake in judging Severus's intentions made her lose her confidence in herself, and she never got any sleep because she spent each night at his bedside. Professor Callahan was definitely going nowhere, fast.
One mid-November day Hogwarts awoke to three inches of fresh, powdery snow. Care of Magical Creatures was reduced to building snowmen around Hagrid's enormous pumpkins. That morning in the Defense class, only Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville showed up. The rest of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff fifth years, who should have been in that room as well, could be heard frolicking outside.
Harry tentatively approached Professor Callahan's desk and looked expectantly at her, waiting for acknowledgement so he could speak. His only reply was a light snore from his teacher. She was out cold facedown on her desk, and Harry could guess that it was the first real sleep she'd had in at least a week. The four of them tiptoed out of the room and, once outside, Ron was ready to make a beeline outside to join in on the fun.
"Wait, Ron, don't you think this would be a perfect time to visit George?" Hermione suggested, grabbing his elbow. Ron's face paled at the mention of his brother's name, and clearly he had expected the missing twin to be out there right now with his other half, Fred. On perfect days like this it was easy to forget that there was a tragedy in their midst.
Without a word Ron changed direction and led the group to the hospital wing, where Headmaster Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey were busy fussing over somebody concealed behind a heavy curtain. George's bed was just inside the door, the lumpy body under the sheets ending unnervingly at the knees. For a full minute the four of them just stood there at the foot of his bed, hardly breathing, taking in George's serenely dreaming face oblivious to what reality had inflicted him with. Then Ron moved alongside his brother and perched on the bed next to him. The bed squeaked softly under the added weight, and Harry heard the whispers beyond the screen abruptly stop. Seconds later, Madame Pomfrey emerged looking quite surprised.
"What on earth are you all doing here at this hour?" she demanded, placing her hands on her hips huffily.
"Professor Callahan's napping, and nobody else showed up to class. We let her be and decided to come visit George, if that's all right with you ma'am." Harry answered. The nurse's face softened, and if it was the mention of Professor Callahan finally sleeping or the "ma'am" part, she let them stay.
"How is he?" Ron whispered, still gazing at his brother's lack of leg.
"Improving. I'm not going to lie to you; I don't think I can save his legs. A recently discovered spell might allow me to make something normal looking to put there, but it's very advanced and very tricky, and nine times out of ten comes out horribly wrong." said Madame Pomfrey. "There's a conference with your parents this weekend about what to do." Harry suddenly realized what must be running through the Weasley family's heads right now. Bill and his newlywed wife receiving the news, Charlie stopping between dragon-capturing to hear that his little brother melted, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hearing about their beloved boy. poor people just going on with their own lives until one evil decision of fate selected their family member. It all seemed so random, and yet designed to a painstakingly deliberate level at the same time.
"He's gonna live though, right? He'll be okay?" Ron asked fearfully.
"Of course," Madame Pomfrey answered, her eyes twinkling at Ron's worried face. "He's doing fine."
(A/N: I just know y'all are breathing sighs of relief right now, and putting down the torches you were going to flame me with if George died. Actually, that thought never occurred to me, he's too cool a guy!)
After a few more minutes of staring at George, they decided it was time to leave. Making arrangements to meet there tomorrow during lunch, everyone was walking out the door when Headmaster Dumbledore's voice rang out. "Oh Harry, can you come here for a second?" he called, and Harry turned around, surprised.
"Uh - yeah, sure." Harry replied, glancing at his friends before vanishing behind the curtain. Who he saw lying in the bed there made questions and answers pop up in his head.
"Professor Snape." breathed Harry. The Potions Master lay there, looking paler than was natural, even for him.
"Professor Callahan misunderstood Severus' intentions that night, and cast a Disarming Spell that sent him flying across the room into this, the Dalthieus Dagger." Dumbledore explained, saying things that were both new and old news to Harry.
"What were his intentions?" Harry asked, his eyes bunching up confusedly.
"Harry, you know that Severus attends Death Eater meetings regularly as a spy. Well, he discovered a plan that Voldemort is going to execute - he's after you again, Harry." said the Headmaster, but Harry showed no signs of this frightening him. "Severus knew the procedure that Voldemort had planned, but he refused to tell me because that would put my life in danger. He was the only one who knew, and the only one who could save you. He issued that 'detention' so he could have a chance to tell you in private."
"Then why didn't Professor Callahan know that?" inquired Harry, looking at Dumbledore pleadingly.
"Severus only told me about it, and I had to force it out of him. He's adamant about endangering people with information; and made me swear not to tell anyone unless it was an utter emergency, or if he. got into trouble." the old man said.
Harry understood now. Professor Callahan had been wrong. Snape had taken him to that shed to be alone, not to hurt him. Voldemort wanted to get Harry. Again. That information was so important, and now Harry's life preserve was lying in the hospital, inches from death himself.
"Harry, I want you to be safe. Voldemort can use anything to hurt you, to bring you to him. We found that out last year," Dumbledore began. "Half of me wants to put you under house arrest, have a bodyguard follow you around everywhere, and make you quit the quidditch team." Harry's eyes widened, and the word 'unfair' was on his lips when the headmaster held up a hand.
"But the other half of me thinks that that would be cowering in fear of Voldemort, and letting him win, in a way. You're a responsible and powerful wizard, Harry, and I know you're as prepared as you can be for an attack. I'm so torn, and that's why I'm letting you decide. It's your choice." When Dumbledore had finished, his face was so full of decision and expectancy that Harry had to look away as to not be influenced.
No quidditch. that felt like it would be more punishment than even Voldemort could inflict. but then again it was Harry's life, nothing to gamble with. If Harry had found out about the TriWizard Cup beforehand, would he have prevented it? Would he have turned around and said "No thanks, now guard me twenty-four seven while I sit here and watch." Could he have saved Cedric and prevented another rise of The Dark Lord?
"This isn't the past." A little voice insisted in the back of his head, and Harry knew it was right. He couldn't change anything now, and even if he had refused to be in the TriWizard Tournament, Voldemort would have found another way to get him. And besides, cowering in fear wasn't Harry's style.
"I'll keep my life the way it is now," answered Harry at length. "And don't give me a bodyguard. Anyway, they wouldn't be able to help me if the Dark Lord really put his mind to it." Also, Harry didn't want anyone else dead because of him, but he left that unsaid.
"It's your choice, Harry." Dumbledore repeated, resting his hand on Harry's shoulder and looking into those green eyes. A mental battle was clearly raging behind the old man's spectacles, deciding whether to adhere to what he'd said or not. After a moment, he seemed to reach a resolution and slowly stood up.
"Is he going to be all right?" Harry asked fearfully, turning to the old man. The boy never thought he'd actually want the hated teacher to pull through and live to torture him another day, but this was different; almost deeper, somehow.
"Well, Poppy's got him stabilized, and the poison's out of his bloodstream. Now we're just waiting. he's got to awaken sometime, let's pray for good timing to bestow it's presence once again, shall we?" Dumbledore remarked. After a second longer of staring at the steadily rising and falling chest, a sign that things might just go on, the Headmaster placed his hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Well then, you better be going. Don't you have Divination after lunch?" he instructed.
Harry groaned. "Yes. I assume that I have to go, don't I?"
"Naturally." the old man answered, steering Harry out the door and into the corridor, where the student walked down the stairs and to the Great Hall, which was just starting to fill up for lunch.
"What was that about, Harry?" Hermione asked when he sat down beside her.
"Oh, not much of anything. Stuff about school, quidditch, nothing big." Harry replied, helping himself to a ladleful of vegetable beef stew. Ron and Hermione traded looks, but left it at that.
On Friday evening, the entire Weasley family showed up at the castle door. Ron had allowed Harry and Hermione to accompany them to the meeting in Dumbledore's office, since they were practically family anyhow.
"Greetings." the headmaster said solemnly when the group reached his office, and everyone took a seat.
"How is George?" Mrs. Weasley blurted out even before she sat down. Dumbledore didn't look taken aback in the least.
"He'll live, if that's what you mean. He's healing quite nicely. I trust you understand exactly what the Acideratorr Curse does?" the old man inquired, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley nodded slowly, along with Bill, Corky, Charlie, Percy, and Ginny. Ron nodded slower than the others; he knew all too well, having seen it first hand.
"Well, the curse only made it as far as George's knees, and thanks are due to Ron for that. He assessed the damage and countered it very quickly." Immediately Ron was buried under kisses from his mother and sister and disbelieving, and admiring, looks from his brothers.
"Good job, son." Mr. Weasley said proudly, smiling weakly as best he could in that situation.
"Why I called all of you here to this meeting is to decide what method of treatment to take. As you might know, pioneers in the magical healing areas have recently discovered a spell that will transfigure tree limbs into fully functional bodily limbs, but at great risk. Once performed and attached, there is a large chance that the new appendage will be rejected by the body and turn back into a tree limb, and still be connected with the body. Nasty complications and infections could ensue, and in some cases the patient is even wholly turned into a tree." Dumbledore's speech left an astounded Weasley family with gaping mouths.
"What is the success rate?" Charlie asked softly.
"Less than fifteen percent." The headmaster replied.
"Can we let George decide?" Ginny inquired in her young, small voice.
"The only spell that relieves his pain also leaves the boy in no position to make rational decisions. And we have to act fast, because the longer he goes without decisive treatment the more likely the treatment will fail when we finally take a course of action. It's up to you, his family, to decide what George would do." All eyes turned automatically to Fred, who knew George like he knew himself.
"I dunno. what are the other options?" requested Fred.
"Two muggle prosthetic legs that we could enchant to work halfway normally, but which would make running out of the question, along with Quidditch." Dumbledore answered. Being a beater, George had to do most of the steering of his broom with his knees and legs, since he used his arms to wield the giant Bludger Bat.
At the mention of ending George's quidditch career, Fred shook his head viciously. "No, George would rather die than never play quidditch again." he stated fiercely.
"Well, he just might." Bill put in, staring at his brother meaningfully. This was an actual life or death decision. what George loved versus living without it.
After a lot of thought, Fred finally answered. "If it were me, and it nearly is, I think I'd rather deal with the muggle pro-whatcha-call-it's than risking an eighty-five percent failure rate. It's just stupid to choose a silly game over life." But everyone knew that to the twins, Quidditch was more than a 'silly game.' Graduating this year, over the summer they had already gotten many letters from professional quidditch teams offering both of them the starting beater positions. Even the England National team invited them, and that was unheard of for players their age. This could change the whole course of George's life. Of course, they always had Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which were taking off like a rocket.
"I know how hard it was for you to say that," Dumbledore remarked, giving Fred a warm look. "But that is the mature decision to make, and I'm sure George will see the truth in that. You may have just saved his life."
"Or ruined it." Fred muttered, glaring meanly at the floor. Harry understood that it was a horrible position to be put in, deciding the fate of another.
After their little meeting everyone traipsed to the other side of the school to visit George in the hospital wing. "Hello, I'm Courtney Crinkle- Weasley," The small blonde said quietly on the way. "I hadn't imagined meeting you all for the first time like this." Bill put his arm lovingly around her waist. They looked just as in love as they had in the photograph.
Hermione looked intrigued, and muttered the last name "Crinkle." under her breath. Her face grew troubled, but she stayed silent.
Madame Pomfrey looked quite put out that all these visitors were invading her hospital wing, but with Headmaster Dumbledore there she only pursed her lips and growled a little.
"He looks so. unaffected. by it all." Mrs. Weasley stated, holding her little boy's hand and stroking it.
"Don't worry, he'll be just fine. Remember when he was four, and he ate the Dropsy Dirt Detergent and coughed up bubbles for a week? The doctors said he'd never be able to go near dirt again without a serious allergic reaction, and the next week we brought him out of a garden gnome tunnel filthy as could be?" Charlie reminded everyone warmly, and Mr. Weasley laughed out loud.
"How could I forget? We thought keeping the little tyke out of dirt would be impossible, and it was. But now he's immune to it, doesn't even get the allergic reaction anymore." Mr. Weasley said, his big booming laugh ringing out again. Harry smiled, the image of a devious four-year-old red head rolling around amongst garden gnomes and dirt clods making him smile. That was so like George.
"What do you want to bet we won't be able to keep him off a broom, either. Eh?" Percy put in, with a bit of scorn mixed with amusement, and the family knew he was right. Maybe George wouldn't be able to stay on the quidditch team, but they'd have to chain him to the ground to keep him from trying to fly off of it.
That night for dinner, Dumbledore let Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Fred off campus to eat with their family in Hogsmede. The Three Broomsticks had to join four tables together to seat all of them, but it was a slow night anyhow. The only other customer was a thin little man wrapped in an enveloping olive cloak sitting at the bar with his Ogden's Old Firewhisky, swaying slightly from his utter inebriation.
"So, what'll it be?" Priscilla, one of the waitresses, asked after they'd all sat down.
"Butterbeer for all!" called Mr. Weasley. There was more of a celebratory mood now that it was known that George would be fine.
"Be out in a minute." Priscilla answered cheerfully, jotting something down and quickly walking through the double doors into the kitchen.
"So, Courtney, we haven't really gotten a chance to talk so far." Mr. Weasley remarked to his daughter-in-law.
"I know," the blonde girl replied in a high, peppy voice. "Bill and I've been so busy with moving in lately, and the wedding was so sudden -"
"It certainly was." Mrs. Weasley interrupted, evidently still fuming over being excluded from her first son's wedding.
"Oh mother, come on. Corky and I just aren't into big, fancy affairs." Bill said, glaring at his mother until she relented.
"Of course, I know. Do tell me about your house." said Mrs. Weasley apologetically. Her son beamed at her. Corky and her mother-in-law then became engrossed in interior decorating tips and color schemes, with Hermione and Ginny cooing over the pretty arrangements.
Harry could tell that Bill struck gold with Corky, in more ways than one. She was so nice to Hermione and Ginny, including them in the conversation and listening to their statements. She reminded Harry of a kindergarten teacher, which he found out later that she was, at a wizarding elementary school. And the house she described was very nice, thankfully the Weasley's didn't have to go broke paying for furniture and appliances and everything. Her family had old money, and Courtney's savings account payed for it all.
"Courtney Crinkle, I'm so glad Bill and you discovered each other!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed brightly as everyone was leaving, contented and full of the warm merriment of butterbeer.
Suddenly the creature at the bar lurched forward and spat out a bit of his firewhisky. "Courtney Crinkle, did you say?" he croaked, whipping around on his barstool and standing up. Promptly after bringing himself upright, he collapsed onto the floor. Struggling to get up with the heavy olive cloak on him, he threw it off in exasperation and everyone gasped.
It was, in fact, not a man after all. It was Victoria Callahan.
"You." Professor Callahan said, pointing her finger at Courtney, her sharp, honey-colored eyes rolling around in her head violently. "You got away."
Courtney looked petrified, staring at the woman. But everyone else was nothing short of stupefied about what exactly was going on.
"I - I have no idea what you're talking about." Corky squeaked, and dashed behind Bill. "Come on, this woman is drunk. We should leave before she hurts herself or others." she whispered to her husband, and he wrapped his arms around her protectively.
"Let's go." Bill barked to his family, and they obeyed. The children were ushered out first, with Bill and Corky last. Just as she was about to walk out the door, Professor Callahan leapt into the air and tackled the stout blonde.
"HELP ME!!" Corky screamed, grasping for Bill's hand as she fell to the floor.
"It's off to Azkaban for you, missy. You can't get away this time!" cackled Professor Callahan, pinning Corky to the ground, her voice slurred with drunkenness. The attacker raised her wand high above her head menacingly, and Bill was jolted into a more severe form of action.
"NOOOOO!!!" he screamed, said immediately afterward by "Expelliarmus!" Professor Callahan flew across the room and hit the four tables grouped together with a nasty crack, and slid to the floor, still twitching.
"What the hell was that?" Mr. Weasley roared, stepping over to the body of Victoria Callahan and kicking her over onto her back with his foot.
But nobody knew the answer.
* * * * *
A/N: Again I say, Poor Victoria Callahan. She's my own, personal character and I choose to do this to her?? Ahh, but there is a method to my madness, do not fret. In but a short week, you shall see. you shall see.
BOO!! Hahahahahahahaaaa!
All righty, your turn! Review time! It's simple, just press the little button on the bottom of the screen and PRESTO, you make my day! So, in the wise words of Clint Eastwood: "Go ahead. make my day." BY REVIEWING!!!!! (
Love from,
Saranimal
HaloGal5@aol.com