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Fifth Year Class Trip Itinerary
Gryffindors and Slytherins
1 May
08:30 Depart Hogwarts aboard Hogwarts Express
13:30 Arrive Newcastle Seaport
14:00 Depart aboard SS RebelRouser 2 May
10:00 Arrive New Orleans, Louisiana, USA -- Accommodations at the Oleander House
11:30 Lunch
13:00 Historical Walking Tour-- The Garden District
18:00 Dinner at the Oleander Banquet Room
19:30 Bayou Boating Tour
3 May
08:00 Breakfast
09:00 Historical Walking Tour -- The French Quarter, Vieux Carre
11:30 Lunch at Le Magicienne
12:15 Mystic Pier
18:00 Dinner
Free Evening (however, all outside excursions are to be Chaperoned! No Exceptions!) 4 May
08:00 Breakfast
08:45 Depart New Orleans Harbor aboard SS RebelRouser
12:00 Arrive Bermuda Triangle -- Accommodations at the Bermuda Inn
12:30 Lunch
13:30 Flying Tour of the Island
16:00 Mineral Pools and Coast
18:30 Dinner 5 May
08:30 Breakfast
09:00 The Bermuda Maritime Museum
12:00 Lunch at the Triangle Terrace
13:00 The Bermuda Triangle Museum of Modern History
18:00 Dinner in the Bermuda Inn Banquet Room
Free Evening, however all outside excursions are to be Chaperoned! No exceptions! Flying Tour of the Island 6 May
08:30 Depart Bermuda Triangle aboard SS RebelRouser 7 May
12:45 Arrive Iverness, Scotland
13:00 Lunch
14:00 Depart aboard the Iverness Coach Express
15:15 Arrive the Caledonian Forest. Campsite will be set up promptly.
19:00 Dinner
23:00 Merlin's Birthsite.
Houses are to stay within tents after hours! No exceptions! 8 May
09:00 Depart Caledonian aboard Iverness Coach Express
09:30 Depart aboard Hogwarts Express.
12:30 Arrive Hogwarts.
Hermione was intrigued. "How in the world are we supposed to travel so much ground in such a short period of time!" "Professor McGonagall explained it all to me," said Ron, obviously happy he knew something Hermione didn't. "The SS RebelRouser is one of the fastest ships around. Apparently, the captain is some older-than-dirt wizard-- I think he's about two hundred years old and just as sprightly as ever. She said that he's obsessed with the sea and spent his entire life dedicated to building the perfect sea ship." Hermione looked impressed. The Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws were the envy of the school as they left the last week in April to embark on their adventure. It was murder awaiting their return. They finally arrived back on a particularly warm day and there was a mad rush by the remaining fifth years, all asking the same questions: "What was it like? Was it fun? What did you eat? How was the weather? Was it beautiful in Bermuda?' 'What are American Wizards like?' and of course: "Were the magnetic forces at the entrance to the Bermuda triangle every bit as accurate as they've written in--" "Hermione!" It was Padma Patil, shaking her head at Hermione in disbelief. "Well! I want to know--" "Please, Hermione. It was a tropical island! Wait till you see it. It's a paradise-- plain and simple. Heaven on earth, it is." "Oh, and Mystic Pier in New Orleans is wicked," said Justin Finch-Fletchley. "Bloody fantastic! Worlds better than Hogsmeade!" "You have a campout in the Caledonian," said a Ravenclaw, "that was terrific." "There are these mineral pools in Bermuda," Hannah Abbot was gushing, "you can jump off cliffs or slide down natural slides right into them!" "Wicked!" "And no one died, eh?" Asked George with a sardonic sneer. Padma put her hand on her hip, "Sorry to disappoint you, but that is just a silly old superstition. Nothing happened to anyone!" George nodded and then, with a hand on Ron's shoulder said, "Well, that must mean it'll happen on your trip." Ron responded with sock in his brother's arm and everyone, especially George, fell into laughter. And then finally, to Harry's relief, it was their turn. Of course, no one in the dorms got a real wink of sleep that night. There was much too much excitement in the air. Harry and the rest of the fifth year Gryffindors chattered throughout the late hours of the night and into the early hours of the morning (which by that time was nothing more than hysterical, mindless gibberish). Even the prefects were caught up in the excitement of it all-- Dean was the central reason the conversation flowing all night. Of course, when it came time for breakfast, they were all completely shattered with fatigue. "Hermione! Put that book down!" Ron was scolding over his oatmeal. "Think of this as a holiday! Enjoy it!" "I fully intend to, thank you very much." "Right," he took the book from her hands. "Spending it with The Bermuda Triangle-- History Versus Myth. It should be ripping good fun, old girl." "Oh hush up," she said, betraying a smile. Ron returned it eagerly. To Harry's delight Seamus leaned over and whispered, "Must be spring, eh? Ron and Herm are lookin' cozy, don't you think?" Harry was tempted to unleash to him everything about all the going-ons between Ron and Hermione, but was interrupted by Professor Dumbledore's calling their attention. "Now,now, quiet please." They obeyed. "I trust that our fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins are most anxious to leave. But before they depart, I should like to make an announcement. We have a last minute addition to the entourage. In addition to our dear Hagrid, Snape, McGonagall and Gray, I am delighted to say that Professor Ariah Warwick will be accompanying them as well." There was a chorus of surprised 'oohhh's from the crowd, and Professor Warwick entered at that moment through the great hall doors. "She was most disappointed at having to leave without attending the trip, and we are excited to have her with us once again." Harry's eyebrows raised and he looked on in a delighted sense of shock as Professor Warwick beamed brightly before them. Ron gave him a devious grin. "All right! A whole week with her--" "Aye," Seamus was drooling, "I hope I'm assigned in her group." Hermione slammed her book shut with a loud clap, scowling at the boys. "You're all horrible." They smiled and didn't bother denying it. After breakfast the Gryffindor and Slytherin fifth years gathered in Hogwarts main entrance. Harry's stomach was doing somersaults out of anticipation, indeed, the entire room was seething in a near state of kinetic frenzy! And poor Professor McGonagall was already looking stressed, going through the daunting task of checking everyone's luggage and magicking them onto the train. "No--Miss Parkinson, line up to the left please--your other left, yes that's right. Mr. Finnigan, what do you think you are doing with four pieces of luggage? You'll leave two of those behind, thank you very much. Crabbe! Goyle! Put those doughnuts away! Why of all the-- Margaret! I'll thank you to stop that ridiculous dancing--" and then she finally snapped. "That's it! Everyone will please be QUIET!" Silence. "Thank you." She put her hand to her chest and took a deep, steady breath. "Now, Professors Warwick and Snape, if you will please lead the Slytherins outside to the train, single file please. Once the last Slytherin has left, Professor Gray and Hagrid, you'll lead the Gryffindors, please. I'll be following presently." And that is precisely the way things took place-all the students seemed a bit frightened by McGonagalls' outburst. They found the Hogwarts Express as shiny as ever, glinting in the bright sun, awaiting their arrival. "What in Merlin's name is that," said Professor McGonagall behind Harry and he at once saw what she was talking about: A banner reading Bermuda or Bust was hanging from the side of the train in large, glittery letters. Harry knew that handwriting well--it had to have been the work of Dean. Indeed, Dean and Seamus were beaming. "Muggles used to do things like that," Dean explained to Professor McGonagall who looked like she was ready to hand in her resignation papers. Snape's brow was furrowed in annoyance, while Professor Warwick and Professor Gray struggled to hide their amusement. Professor McGonagall sighed loudly and ordered them on the train. They did so, voices loud and raucous, the compartments writhing with excitement. For the moment anyway, it appeared that the Gryffindors and Slytherins had forgotten they were enemies. * Captain Peel turned out to be every bit of a batty old man as Harry and Ron had first suspected. They arrived at the Newcastle seaport to find the SS RebelRouser awaiting them-- an impressive piece of glinting machinery that resembled a pirate ship more than anything, complete with high billowing white masts, but was made of an unmistakably modern material that made it shine metallic silver. As the students filed on board, he greeted them dressed in a captains' uniform directly out of the mid 1800s, his beard every bit as long and white as Dumbledore's, his face a sea of ancient wrinkles, but his voice was unmistakable full of life -- gruff and loud and commanding attention. "Welcome aboard me Maties! Ye be in fer the time of yer lives! This here be the bloomin' greatest ship on the face of the planet-- christened the girl meself in 1842 and she's since grown into the masterpiece yer standin' upon." It was an impressive ship, with every convenience one could imagine. Harry was tempted to use their Owlery to send a post to Sophie and Dudley-but they had barely started their journey! As it turns out, Hermione had been correct about the RebelRouser being the fastest ship on the seas, because by the next morning, Captain Peel was happily announcing they were steering down the Mississippi River, ready to pull into port. The minute that Harry and the rest of the fifth years stepped off the ship and onto solid ground, they found themselves in the middle of a heat wave. It felt as though Harry's robes were melting onto his skin-- the air around him was thick and heavy and hot and it made him feel sluggish. "Humidity!" Captain Peel said happily. "T'was always what gave this city her character!" Harry was unaccustomed to this, and Ron yanking off his tie and rolling up his sleeves showed that he wasn't the only one. Professor McGonagall called the Gryffindors into line (her face flushed from the heat) and ordered them to follow her. Snape did the same with the Slyhterins while Hagrid, Professor Warwick and Professor Gray brought up the rear. They stood on the shore of what looked to be an old, forgotten harbor. The SS RebelRouser looked out of place at the battered pier, her silver glinting in the sun amongst the shabby old sea shanties. But as they followed Professor McGonagall, the scene changed (although the temperature didn't) and they were walking along a lovely tree-canopied lane, crowded with enormous plantation-like homes. "This is one of the most haunted roads in the whole of America," Hermione narrated. "Every one of these homes has at least two ghosts that haunts it." They arrived at one such home with high red brick front steps and a roadway lined with enormous magnificent Oak trees. "Oleander House" was written on a sign outside the towering white front door. The students broke out into a cumulative gasp when the door opened to reveal a stunning foyer all in white marble with a sprawling, spiral staircase and countless clusters of Oleander in large white vases, hanging in mid-air. "Welcome Students, Welcome!" The strong accent caught their attention and they looked up to see a tall, leant with simple black robes, and long auburn hair. She was smiling, "I am Mrs. Bianca, Landlady here at Oleander House, and on behalf of the staff I want to welcome y'all here! We're simply thrilled to have you with us! Of course you must be starving after such a long journey, so without further ado, our resident ghosts will lead y'all to your rooms and then down to lunch!" Harry was at once in love with her accent. Two ghosts appeared-- both men in late 18th century garb and powdered wigs-- and bade the students to follow. Hermione was twiddling her thumbs excitedly as they ascended the staircase and Harry could hear Parvati Patil "ooohhhh"ing and "aaahhhh"ing behind him. Harry, Ron, Neville and Seamus ended up sharing the same room-- a large chamber with wood floors and two huge beds that--- "Whoa," Ron cried as he sank onto the mattress, "it's all made of feathers!" "Nice," said Seamus, throwing himself onto the bed. "And look," said Harry, pulling open the window, "you can even see the river from here!" "Oh, aye?" asked Seamus, "what did Peele call it again? The Sippimissi. . . er, the Missipippy?" Harry was laughing. "The miss-iss-ippi." "Well whatever it's called, how about keeping that window open to let in the breeze," Neville barked, his face still sweaty, "it's an incinerator in here!" They stuffed their faces at lunch, being presented with a magnificent spread of home cooked southern fare: lemonade, dutch apple pie and something called "biscuits and gravy". Mrs. Bianca had them laughing at the subtle differences in American and British lingo. "You see, y'all turned up your noses when you heard you'd be eating "biscuits and gravy." But here in the states, what you call "biscuits", we call "cookies." And what you call "muffins" we call "biscuits!" They laughed. "And what you call "scones", we call "muffins"! And there's a slew more where that came from!" They laughed again and with full bellies, assembled outside in their groups. (Harry was relieved that he'd packed short-sleeved shirts since they were to be walking miles in the murky heat. Talking to Hagrid and the rest of the Professors was a short, red-faced wizard who reminded Harry of Professor Flitwick. He could have been his brother-- except for the accent! "Glad to have y'all with us and hope you've been enjoying' N'Awlins so far! I'm Mr. Douglas Calhoun, a teacher here at N'Awlins' prestigious Wellington School for Wizards, and have the pleasure of being your tour guide for the next two days!" They explored the Garden District under Mr. Calhoun's vibrant narration, until their feet were aching and we ready to keel over from the heat. The return to the hotel wasmost welcome. The next morning they set out early on foot, the lively French Quarter taking up most of their morning. Lunch was on Bourbon street in a hidden restaurant called Le Magicienne. Harry was in love with the city-- so exciting and so different from everything he'd known! They explored the Vieux Carre under Mr. Calhoun's vibrant narration, until their feet were aching and we ready to keel over from the heat. Then it was out to Mystic Pier. "It's the only all-wizarding amusement park in the world!" Hermione cooed as they made their way. "Like an American Hogsmede," said Ron, "only better!" They explored the under Mr. Calhoun's vibrant narration, until their feet were aching and we ready to keel over from the heat. "Yeah," said Dean, "the entire park is on one pier!" "Which one," frowned Pansy Parkinson, turning up her nose as they approached a deserted sea shanty next to the weathered, ruins of a pier. Mr. Calhoun knocked three on the broken door three times. The door slid open and he beckoned for the kids to follow. They did so, and entered into a large, bright room that was filled with people: ahead of them was a fancy pink and cream-colored booth with a sign reading "Admissions - 10 Knuts" in blinking lights. A smiling wizard in the booth was happily handing tickets to the patrons who passed through the queue. Wizards and witches were holding hands with their children who were bouncing on their feet eagerly. Harry felt just as excited as they did and it was funny to see the adults just as eager to get in as the children. Well, except for one older American wizard up in front who was grumbling about the apparent raise in price. "Ten Knuts? Why, I remember when admission was free!" He was growling, handing over the ten knuts angrily. Harry wished he'd hurry-- he was holding up the queue! "That was before that gosh-darn Secretary General Mumsby got into office and hiked the prices on everything! Give me our old Secretary Feldling any day! It's all these higher-than-thou Maulers in office! If the Deevers were still in power--" "So write to the SC about it!" The man in the booth was annoyed. "You're holdin' up the line!" "Mr. Calhoun," asked Hermione, intrigued, as they slowly inched closer towards the ticket booth. "What was he talking about? Who is the SC?" "It's a lot like your Ministry of Magic. Here in the States, it's called the Sorceric Congress. There are two parties: the Deevers and the Maulers. Deevers are more into domestic affairs-- do lots for education and things like that. Very liberal party. The Maulers are staunch conservatives-- money is what they know best. Rumor has it that they've got it in for non-purebloods. And man-oh-man, do they ever hate muggles!" "Sounds familiar," said Harry sadly. ". . . and the Maulers are in control of Congress right now. Secretary General Mumsby is trying to pass a new bill that world raise taxes on all properties owned by a wizard who earns under 10,000 Galleons per year." "Raise taxes on the poor?" Harry was aghast. "Why," Ron demanded. Mr. Calhoun was audibly passionate about this. "Because everyone knows that the majority of poorer wizarding families aren't pure-bloods. And they're all Deevers! It's politics, y'know? He's actually trying to punish them for not being pure bloods, and what he calls 'muggle sympathizers.'" "Sounds reasonable to me," Draco huffed just loud enough for only Harry to hear. And then he added, louder, "Wow, Granger. If you lived in the states, it looks like you'd be taxed out of a home!" Mr. Calhoun sense Draco's cynicism. "Well, it would only apply if the breadwinner of the family is a wizard, Mr. Draco. Obviously the SC can't tax something that belongs to the muggle government. That's just common sense." Hermione stuck her tongue out at Draco just as she was handed an admission ticket. Harry's jaw dropped as they stepped out onto the pier. They pier stretched ahead for what seemed to be an eternity, enclosed by an enormous glass dome. To their left were vendors selling heaping ice cream cones and other delectable goodies. To their right were souvenir shops selling mostly (from what they could see) shirts and hats with Mystic Pier logos. And then there were the rides! Harry had never seen wizarding rides before, so it came as quite a shock! Cars holding passengers whizzed through the air without the use of tracks. The cars all apparently knew their routes and zoomed to and fro, looping, falling and filling the heights of the dome so that it resembled a muggle free-for-all motorway than anything else! Professor McGonagall spoke sternly and briefly. "You are all to report back at the main entrance no later than half past five." And with that, the kids dispersed in every direction. "All right," Ron was shouting, rubbing his hands together. "Come on,Harry!" "Hey! Wait for us!" Hermione, Dean, Seamus and Neville were right behind them. Ron lead them towards a large ominous looking sign reading Monster Zoom. "My brother Charlie came here once and said that this ride almost made him pass out!" Harry and Seamus exchanged smiles. "All right! Let's go!" Hermione looked hesitant: the purple cars for Monster Zoom climbed higher than any of the other rides on the Pier, and seemed to have several loops and drops. "Er. . . y-you lads go on. I'll just watch." "Nonsense, Herm!" said Ron. "Come on!" "N-no, r-really, I'm fine down here." "Oh you're not afraid, are you? It's only a ride after all!" "Only a ride?!? Ron, are you completely mad? Look at how high that thing is! Charlie wrestles with Dragons for a living and you want me to ride something that even he gets sick on?!?" "He doesn't wrestle--" "I don't care!" she shouted. "No way am I going!" Ron grabbed her by the waist. "Oh yes, you are!" "Noooo!" He lifted her up, her legs kicking above the ground. She put up a valiant fight, but was no match against Ron. There were a few moments on the ride when Harry had to admit that Hermione was right. Monster Zoom was the worst 153 seconds of his life! By the fifth loop, Harry was feeling every meal he'd ever eaten in his life creep its way back up. And having Neville Longbottom's arms wrapped around his neck for safety didn't help the situation. Ron literally crawled off the ride on all fours. Hermione, however, bounced off quite cheerfully. "Wicked good fun, eh lads? Who's up for another go?" Ron responded with retching noise and then it all did come up right there on the floor. "Oh you're a right bunch of little girls aren't you," she teased happily. Her eyes spotted a nearby vendor selling treats and she announced, "Right, then! Who's hungry?" Seamus and Neville both collapsed alongside Ron. Harry managed to reach the nearby men's' toilet, thankfully. Ten minutes later, he walked out, shaky, joining the others who sat on a bench looking pale. Hermione, on the other hand, was very happily lapping away at a monster sized ice cream cone. "Hermione," said Harry, not able to even look at the ice cream without getting queasy, "would you mind not making those slurping noises? You're making my stomach churn." Hermione grinned deviously and took an extra long, drawn out slurp on the melting ice cream. Harry was about to call her a heartless brat, when a friendly, southern accent interrupted him. "Hey-- you're those students from overseas, right?" Harry turned around to see a smiling boy with freckles, floppy blond hair and hazel eyes. He wasn't wearing robes, but it did look as though he wore some sort of school uniform: light gray trousers and an untucked white dress shirt. Harry nodded in answer to him. "That's right. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." "That's in England?" "Most of us are English, but the school is in Scotland." "Well, it ain't every day we get visitors from out of town. The name is Jake Dugan-- from Spaulding's School of Sorcery. It's really nice to have y'all here! Havin' fun in N'Awlins?" Harry shook hands with him. "I'm Harry. This is Ron, Seamus, Neville and Hermione. And yeah, we're having a fantastic time here. Everyone has been so kind, it's unreal!" "Yeah, we're kinda known for that down here. Seen a lot of the city?" "Well, we've been seeing all the historical sites, you know. This is really the first non school related thing we've done." "Oh man, you serious? Have you been to Bourbon Street yet?" "Actually, we had lunch there today at 'Le Magicienne.'" Jake shook his head, "Nah, that's just tourist stuff. You gotta see the real N'Awlins! His hazel eyes twinkled. "Say-- what y'all doin' tonight? Say around eight-ish?" "Er . . . dunno. Nothing, it's a free evening." "Well, why don't y'all come on down to The Basment-- number nine Bourbon Street. You'll have a blast!" "The Basement?" Ron repeated, warily. "Oh yeah! Everyone at Spauldings' hangs out there. You'll get to meet a lot of new people! There's music and food, and it's just lots of fun!" "Well . . ." Harry started, only to be interrupted by an excited Ron. "Sounds brilliant! We'll definitely see you there!" "Great. See ya then!" He turned and left. Harry stared at Ron. "What, Harry? It'll be fun!" "Ron, you know that all excursions are to be chaperoned. How silly are we gonna look walkin' into a hangout with a professor!" "They'll think we're all pansies," said Seamus dryly. Ron lowered his voice and gave them all a knowing wink. "Not if we take Professor Warwick! They'll think we're all bloody heroes!" * Professor Warwick appeared to be simply delighted when Ron asked her to accompany them to the Basement. She went on about how it had been simply ages since she'd gone to a purely social setting, and seemed most concerned with what she should wear to make the proper impression. (Ron whispered to Harry, 'nothing at all, if you want to make a *real* impression' which won him a severe jab in the side.) They found number nine Bourbon Streer amid a vibrant community of lights and music. The "9" was barely visible on the dingy door and they pushed it opened and descended the dank, dark, narrow staircase. A warm, soft yellow light greeted them when they reached the bottom landing. The Basement very much resembled its name: the room had wood floors and its walls held no special decorations. A few sofas were thrown about casually and then there was the simple bar with a particularly gruff looking wizard taking orders from what Harry supposed were Spauldings wizards and witches. They were not wearing the light gray and white uniforms from earlier in the day, but dressed casually and, as Harry thought, quite a bit like muggles. "Hey!" came the familiar friendly voice from one of the sofas. The freckled blond was at once at his feet, rushing to meet them. "You came! Great! Hey, you guys," he said, calling to his friends on the sofa, "I want you to meet these kids from overseas! This is . . . what did you say your name was again?" Harry re-introduced himself and the others. Then he added, "and this is actually our Professor Warwick." Harry saw Jake's eyes grow wide at the sight of her. "Your p-professor?" Professor Warwick shook his hand. "Yes. I do hope you don't mind an old woman tagging along." "N-no! Of c-course not!" Jake was obviously taken with her. He turned back towards the kids and said, "Well, that there's Pam, Jan and Lu. That's Cody-- we call her California Cody-- Dewey, Lola and, oh hey, Dewey? How about gettin' the folks some drinks?" He turned back to Harry, the shock of Professor Warwick's stunning appearance wearing off. "What grade you kids in?" "Er . . ." Ron was slightly distracted by 'Lu' who was smiling in his face. "W-we're all fifth years." "Fifth years?" said Lu, "What in the hootenanny does that mean? Y'all Juniors?" "It's different there, Lu. See, we're all juniors here. At Spauldings, we start at ten years old: it goes first grade, second grade, third grade, freshmen, sophomores, juniors and seniors. The first, second and third years stay in a separate wing than the older kids." "At Hogwarts, we start at eleven," Hermione explained, "but we aren't separated by year. We're all sorted into a house- there are four houses at Hogwarts. We're all Gryffindors, for example, and we all stay in the same wing. Don't you have houses at Spauldings?" "Nope, no houses. We just say with our grade." "I love your accents by the way," said Dewey as he handed them their drinks. "Yes," said another voice, this one with an accent Harry hadn't heard before. "Most charming." He was a very good-looking, sandy brown haired boy around sixteen, his hand outstretched. "I'm Jimmy. Jake here seems to have forgotten his manners. What's your name?" Jimmy enunciated words very flatly: manners was "maaan-uhs" and forgotten was "fuh-gaaaaten." Harry smiled. "I'm Harry. This is Ron, Seamus, Neville, Dean, Hermione and our Professor Warwick." Jimmy's eyes lingered, not on Professor Warwick, but on Hermione most pointedly-- enough to make her drop her eyes nervously. "You're all English, aren't you?" "Yorkshire for me, actually," said Seamus defensively. But Harry could tell that Jimmy didn't care there was a difference between the English and Scottish. He was only interested in Hermione-- those tumbling locks and blushing cheeks. "Y-you're not from the south, then? asked Harry, trying hard to attract Jimmy's attention away from Hermione. "No, I'm from Salem-- that's up north in Massachusetts." "Oh wow," Harry ooohed, genuinely impressed. "Yeah. There are a quite a few of us at Spauldings who come from Salem. Next to New Orleans, Salem has one of the largest wizarding populations in the country." Jake was looking displeased with Jimmy's arrival. "Yeah," Jake said with more than just casual cynicism, "it's also made up of nothin' but Maulers--" "Better that than Deevers," Jimmy quipped back, his eyes intense on Jake. For the briefest moment, Harry could have sworn it was Draco Malfoy talking. "Most Maulers go to Wellingtons' School up in Pennsylvania. Dunno why they bother comin' down here," Jake began to explain. "We can't all go to Wellingtons. We have to keep the population balanced at the other schools. Someone needs to keep all these Deevers in line. Imagine what Spauldings would be like if only all you muggle loving Deevers ruled the place." "You know? People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, Jimmy. Your silly little Mauler institution Wellingtons has never ranked number one-- never. Not for anything-academics or sports. It's a joke, that's all Wellingtons is." Jimmy grimaced at Jake and turned his cold eyes back on Hermione. "And I'm sorry, what was your name again?" "H-Hermione." "Oh, I once knew a girl named Harmony too. Not nearly as pretty as you, though." "It's Herm-eye-oh--" "Tell me. Is it customary in England for a guy to buy a girl a drink?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Mack!" he called to a small, frail looking boy at the bar. "Get me two Quigleys!" His smile was sickening. "You'll love it. Best beer in the wizarding world!" "Actually, I don't like b--" "A bit crowded, wouldn't you say, Harmony? Let's have a seat, you and I." He looked back up at Harry, who was scowling by that time. "Nice meeting you all. If you're ever in Salem, stop by, won't you?" He wrapped his arm around Hermione, who recoiled at his touch. She looked up at Harry pleadingly. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but it was Ron's voice that came out. "Actually, Jimmy, Hermione'll stay right here with us, thanks." Ron's arms were folded and he was giving Jimmy a look that simply dared him to push the issue. Jimmy, however, seemed quite up to the challenge. "Oh really? So who are you, her boyfriend?" Harry held his breath. So did Hermione, whose brown eyes were searching Ron's. Ron cleared his throat, "Yeah. That's right. I'm the only one around here who buys her any drinks." "Maybe in England, bud, but here things are a little different." He tightened his grip around Herimone's waist who, by this time, looked terrified. Jimmy laughed (and once again Harry swore he was looking at Draco) and then shook his head at Ron, nudging Hermione away. But Ron wasn't going to have any of it. In the next instant, Ron had taken hold of Jimmy by the collar and was an inch from him-- his face wrought with anger, fists clenched threateningly. "Apparently, 'bud', you didn't quite hear what I said!" It took Jimmy a moment to regain his composure. He met Ron's stare and reached into his back pocket for his wand. Harry knew what he was up to immediately and pulled out his wand, pointing it at Jimmy. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," and then he added on impulse, "bud." Jimmy's eyes were deathly in their sting-- but then again, Harry was quite capable of a penetrating stare himself! Maybe it was just his imagination, but Harry thought that he saw the slightest flicker of fear in those cold eyes. Just as soon as he thought he saw it, it was gone and Jimmy was once again regaining his assertive air. He raised his hands slowly. "No need for any of that," he said dryly. "Right, Mack?" The small, frail boy who'd been sent to fetch the drinks was at Jimmy's side and, before Harry could do anything, he shouted 'Expelliarmus!' and with a burst of light, Harry flew backwards, disarmed. Jimmy grabbed his wand, but Ron was quicker on the draw and shouted, "Immobulus!" Jimmy and Mack both became living statues, leaving the room quiet. Everyone stared at them. And then . . . "All Right!" Jake broke out into applause and soon the rest of the kids were joining him. Ron looked bewildered by the reaction, as was Harry. "That was awesome," said California Cody, beaming boldly. "We've been wanting to do that for years!" "He's had it coming," Dewey was saying, "that no-good, stuck up, conceited, son of a--" "That was great work, Ron," said Jake loudly, shaking his hand. "Hey! Dithers! Another round of Quigleys for Ron and his friends!" Jake smiled at Ron and Harry. They blushed, and Harry turned around to see Professor Warwick looking thoroughly amused. He'd entirely forgotten about her, and was a bit worry she'd scold them for what they'd done. But she merely smiled and spoke up, "I'll be having one as well, won't I? I've been wanting to try your American beers!" Jake laughed. "Of course! Oh man-- that Jimmy Slatherly. He's a real piece of work!" He was staring gleefully and the motionless figures before him. "I've been wanting to stun him since first grade!" He raised his beer bottle to Harry and Ron. "Here's to ya!" Harry, being handed a bottle of Quigleys, raised his drink along with his fellow Gryffindors. "Cheers!" They all drank to it and Jake pat Ron on his backs. "We could use a nice tough-guy like you in school!" Harry was laughing, and Ron was going pink from all the adulation. Hermione was smiling as well, and Harry knew why! Ron had said that he was her boyfriend! Even though it had been to get at Jimmy, the fact is that he said it. "So!" said Jake, putting his arms around Ron and Harry, "what are you two into? Do you play Quidditch or anything?" "Harry does-- he's our seeker." Jake looked impressed. "Yes, but Ron here actually just won us our house its' Pennant!" "Oh! You have Pennants at Hogwarts?" gushed Lu. "So do we! I hear they're conducted pretty much the same. I have a cousin in France that attends a wizarding school there and she says that Hogwarts is the only wizarding school in all of Britain!" "Well how many schools are there here in the states? "There's three." "Three?" Neville squeaked. "Bear in mind that California alone is the size of your country! There's Hilliard's which is out in California and then Wellingtons up in Pennsylvania." Jake's face went sour. "Not the nicest place, that Wellingtons. The students are downright mean. You should see it when we play Quidditch: they're dirty, rotten liars, all of 'em." Seamus was nodding. "Sounds a lot like one of our houses at Hogwarts-- Slytherin." Lola shuddered. "Eeew. They even sound nasty." "Speaking of Quidditch," said Lu, "my cousin says that the Quidditch rules here in America are somewhat different than over where you are." "That's right," Ron piped up, obviously having extensive knowledge on the subject. "and that's why at the Quidditch World Cup, it's rare to ever get an American team in the running. They have to go by the European rules, which is a bit difficult to do when you've been playing another way all your life." "Yes," Hermione spoke up, "the last time one was in the running was in the mid 19th century, I think." Jake gave Hermione a soft, thoughtful look. "So . . . Herm-eye-oh-knee, right? How long have you and Ron been going out?" Harry nearly choked on his Quigleys. Ron laughed nervously, "Oh, th--that. Well, actually w--we're. . ." he stirred beneath Hermione's stare. "Oohhhhh," said Jake with a devious grin. "I get it. You're just friends, right?" He winked and nudged Ron's arm. "That's cool. I was the same way myself for many a year." He winked at Ron. "But it's only a matter of time. Isn't that right Lola?" He threw his arm around her and the two kissed each other eagerly. Harry thought Ron would die of embarrassment! And Hermione's bright flush to her cheeks didn't fade for the rest of the night. Ron, of course, didn't bring up what he'd said that night. He very expertly avoided the subject and Harry didn't press it. Although, doing such meant that the air between them hung in suspense-- each one wondering who would be the first to bring it up-- and when. The students were reluctant to leave New Orleans-- especially given the new friends they'd made. Jake, Lola and the rest of the Spauldings crowd promised to keep in touch by owl, as it was highly unlikely that either party would be visiting the other anytime soon. "I for one wasn't at all impressed with New Orleans," Harry heard Draco sneering to Crabbe and Goyle just as the RebelRouser was pulling out of port, slowly sailing down the Mississippi. "I met those Spauldings and I have to say, was rather disappointed with them. Did you know that they even have a mandatory course dedicated to Muggle Studies? Absolutely disgusting. And did you see the way some of those Wizards were dressed? Couldn't hardly tell a difference between them and muggles!" Harry grimaced. "A Spauldings told us its because their school is in the heart of a huge muggle city-they have to blend in or risk exposure of their school." Draco ignored Harry. "Absolutely disgusting," he repeated. "I'll tell you one thing: if Hogwarts ever admitted riff raff like that, I'd have father put me in for a transfer straight away." Harry couldn't resist it. "Why wait?" he said with a smile, and walked off with Ron and Hermione, laughing their way down the deck.
Chapter Thirteen: The Trouble With Harry Bermuda. The first word out of Harry's mouth was "wow." They pulled into the harbor, the water twinkling happily in the late afternoon sunlight. Harry had never been to a place with Palm trees before, so upon seeing the rows and rows of towering palms that lined the boardwalk, he came to the conclusion that this place simply had to be paradise. "Oh my stars," Hermione cooed. "this is absolutely gorgeous! And I've been to lots of places and this is just unbelievable!" They arrived at The Bermuda Inn, which turned out to be a high-rising, sweeping wooden building that was nearly hidden from view off the main street by a cluster of palms. The students entered the Inn, a ceiling of glass rising high above them, towering tropical plants crowding the foryer and lobby along with the sitting sofas. A grand staircase led them up to their rooms-- this Inn was so spacious that the students were assigned two to each. Ron, of course, was Harry's roommate and they flung themselves onto the springy beds giggling with pleasure. Harry and Ron didn't have too much time to explore their floor, or any of the hotel really, because they were due back downstairs to depart for a tour of the Island. Ron rambled on excitedly as they changed into suitable touring clothes, leaving their Hogwarts cloaks behind due to the warm weather. Professor McGonagall was wearing thick, black sunglasses, and raised her hands. "Attention, please! We shall be leaving presently, but first I should like to introduce you to our tour guide--" The lights in the foryer dimmed, cutting off McGonagall's words. She whipped around, visibly startled, as was Harry. A bright lavender spotlight had appeared at the top of the staircase and loud music seemed to be coming from nowhere. A thick French accent boomed over head: "Mesdames et Messiuers! I have ze pleasure to annonce to you ze beautiful, ze amazing, ze one et only-- Claudette DuBois!" Harry's mouth fell and a chorus of Aaahhhs jumped out from the students. Claudette DuBois?!? Every wizard in the wizarding world had, at one time or another, a crush on her! According to what he'd heard of her from Ron, she'd made a very popular song about ten years earlier and became the brightest celebrity in the world-- even outshining Gilderoy Lockhart in sales for one glorious year-- and then was never heard from again. So this is what she'd been doing since then-- working for the Bermuda Inn? Ron's tongue was hanging out of his mouth: the music had grown louder and a very pretty witch descended the staircase with robes of pink and salmon flowing behind her. Harry removed his glasses to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Professor Warwick and McGonagall, however, both appeared revolted. And even though Claudette DuBois was very pretty, there was something altogether unattractive about this showy introduction. It was much the same way he'd felt about old Gilderoy Lockhart. The French announcer was still speaking. "She has woo-ed audiences ze world over with her wit et charm, bewitched zem with her beauty et grace, and has made zem cry at ze serenity of her voice. And now Claudette DuBois, ze most famous personality on ze wizarding music scene has come to you lucky guests here at Ze Bermuda Inn!" The music climaxed, then stopped, and Claudette stood before th em, hands raised as though ready to calm a riotous crowd. The reaction from the students which had, at first, been quite clamarous and excited, had since died down to somewhat lukewarm applause. Harry saw Hermione clench her fists. "Thank you, thank you mes amies! It is indeed most wonderful to meet you all and I am sure you have all been most interested to meet me, no? We shall have a magnificent adventrue today as I show to you all the mezmerizing woders of this island as only I can!" Harry raised his brow-- not entirely convinced with her french accent. "Five sickles says that her real surname is not DuBois." "She's no more French than I am," Hermione muttered. "I'm wondering if she knows Gilderoy Lockhart, myself," said Ron with a smirk. Harry snickered. "Bet he's her designer. Wasn't that his favorite shade of pink?" Of course, the tour was every bit as horrible as they'd feared. Claudette DuBois never did quite de-mount from her high horse. The students boarded the double-decker tour bus to incredibly irritating "entrance music"-- which happened to be an old hit of Ms. DuBois' called 'Lament of the Bewitche." The bus took flight to give them an aerial view of the Island and, really, it was so breathtaking that even Claudette DuBois' tendancy to break out into operatic song during her narration seemed muted. And thankfully, Professor Warwick sat nearby to them and they could listen into the commentary she was giving as they passed over the island. "To call the Triangle 'bewitching' is an understatement. Men have stumbled here unintentionally and, upon witnessing its wonders, never once desired to leave her shores again. Here, people become what they have always desired to be and do what they have always desired to do. A 16th century wizard named Gustav van Zeigler called it 'the very definition of witchery itself.'" Harry, Ron and Herimone were leaning in close to hear her as best they could. "The Triangle was settled mainly during the middle ages, as natural phoenomena made it undetectable by muggle navigation devices and it remains so to this very day. Muggles only very recently -- as of the last century -- became truly aware of its exisctance and were able to pinpoint its exact location on their maps. Of course we all know that muggles will think of anything to try and explain magic-- many have simply called this place a 'mystery' or a 'myth.' They have given 'rational explanations' to mysterious disappearnces of muggles here and, perhaps it is best they have done so." She peered out the window and pointed, "Ah! We are actually flying over what is known as "Muggle Mile" where the muggles all live-- it's a surprisingly large community and a happy one. All of the muggles here are ones that have been stranded and, when given the option by the Mayor here of either returning home or staying, decided to stay." She laughed. "They're smarter than we think, those muggles." Claudette DuBois' terrible French accent was getting louder-- she had become aware of Warwick stealing the show. "And we are now flying lower to get a better view of what is ze Island's most impressive feature-- Ze Mineral Pools." Harry was speechless as they flew by. A cliff-like crag climbed high into the air and a few other crags alongside it. They edged closer and saw natural slides had been formed (over the course of many untold centuries, as Professor Warwick informed them) they braided, and intertwined, winding their way down towards the large sparkling springs below. "Unbelievable," Harry shouted, "Ron! Did you see that one bloke? He must've plunged thirty feet right into the water!" The bus landed at the top of the highest peak and the students filed off (Claudette providing "exit music" for their enjoyment) The students were already running for the long queue to go down the slides. "Come on, Harry!" Ron shouted, having already magicked himself into what was the standard wizarding swimming attire: white undershirt and white swimming shorts. Harry took a step back, not so sure he wanted to after all. "Ready, Harry?" Sirius was right behind him. "Ready?" "You are going to test it out, aren't you? Can't come all the way to the Triangle and not try out the mineral slides!" "I . . . dunno." "Oh come now! Of course you will! Here, I'll hold your glasses and wand for you." Harry was thoughtful for a moment and then caved him. He magicked himself into the same swimming clothes as Ron and then ran to join them in line. Hermione and Parvati teased him gently about his reluctance to have joined them. Both girls had donned black two piece suits and a very muggle accesory: the sarong. Harry and Ron both went quiet upon sight of Hermione. Harry should have known that beneath those Hogwarts robes and cloaks there was a beautiful woman-- indeed he'd noticed it all year-- but never as incredibly obviously as it was right then. Hermione, however, quite oblivious to the effect she was having on them (Harry even saw a Slytherin or two gawking at her) and continued chatting with Parvati. If Harry was having trouble focusing with Hermione's presence, he could only imagine what Ron was going through! It was the suddenly very sporting Hermione Granger who went down the slides first, followed by Parvati, Seamus, Ron and then Harry. It was slick and smooth and he gained speed with every passing second. He heard Ron's familiar screech somewhere dar below him, but his was very much alone, the cold wind stinging his face, a branch every so often snapping against his arm-- it was exhilerating! And then, splash! Warm water enveloped his body, the world around him turning aqua blue. The images above him were distorted as he made a swim for the surface. "Allll Riiiiiight!" He shouted as he burst above the surface. He was laughing, as were Ron and the others. "Bloody amazing," Ron was saying, excitment crackling through his voice. Hermione and Parvati were similarly ecstatic and Hermione let the water rushing down from the slides splash upon her face. "That-was-incredible," Harry was panting, his heart racing, adrenaline pumping. They laughed and splashed each other-- Harry reveling in the warm lovliness of the waters. He threw a splash at Ron, who retaliated with ten times the force which, of course, sparked a massive battle of the splashes between everyone. Harry was laughing so hard that he didn't even hear it at first-- a shriek coming from above them. "It's Neville!" Seamus was shouting, pointing above them. Harry looked up, squinting to see properly. Neville was shrieking in pain-- even from Harry's distance and bad eyesight, he could see the pain in his face. On his way down the chute, just before he was about to drop into the pools, Neville's arm had somehow tangled up into the branches of an overhanging willow tree and he was caught. His arm bent behind him unnaturally-- it was surely going to break if it hadn't already. "Someone help him!" Parvati shrieked. "No one has their wands," Hermione answered quickly. Harry could hear a couple of Slytherins behind them let out amused chuckles. Harry shot them evil looks and then turned to Ron. "Someone go tell a Professor! I'll go--" "But they're all the way up at the top of the peak," said Dean. "There's no way we can reach them!" Harry's gaze was intensely fixed upon Neville flailing about haplessly, like a fish out of water. His heart was breaking and the laughter trickling over from the Slytherins made his anger boil over like a potions cauldron. He was wishing he had his wand to get Neville to safety and then to blow those filthy, slimy Slytherins out of the water. Oh Neville-- if only I had my wand! If only I could help you! You can help him. Harry shook his head, arguing with the thoughts rushing about in his head. Don't be ridiculous-- Of course you can. You already are. And then-- right at that moment-- something funny started happening inside of Harry. It was perhaps more to due with the anger he felt towards the Slytherins than anything else, and something odd started coursing through his body. Ever inch of his body grew tense, and then. . . right before his eyes, the branches seemed to gradually loosen themselves around Neville, delicately, until Neville let out a huge shriek and went pummeling down to the waters below. "He's loose!" Seamus shouted, rushing towards him. "The branches-- did you see that? They unraveled themselves!" The rest cheered (except for the Slytherins) and they splashed their way to Neville's side. They threw out questions at him, all at once, Neville assuring each of them that his arm felt perfectly fine! "It was the strangest thing," said Neville, still visibly shaken, "It was like someone was meticulously untangling them--" "No one had their wand, Neville. Perhaps the tree itself is bewitched-- that's the only explanation." "I'm glad you're all right, mate," said Ron eagerly, "it could have been a lot worse, you know. A lot worse!" Harry was very subdued as the rest of them rambled on about he strange event. The curious sensation had disappeared just as quickly as it had began, but it had surprised him so severely that he could barely move. There was an awful, gnawing feeling that. . . he had done it. He hadn't a wand, so the very idea sounded ludicrous, but. . . he was sure he'd done it . . . he'd felt it . . . Neville enjoyed himself immensely in the mineral pools and everyone seemed willing to spend the rest of their lives there-- except for Harry. The incident with Neville had most definitely frightened him. When Professor McGonagall appeared to announce that the bus would be departing back for the hotel, Harry was the first one on board. The only one who noticed Harry's drastic change in demeanor was Sirius who took a seat next to Harry on the bus whilst the rest of the kids carried on. Harry didn't even look at Sirius-- he was too busy replaying the images of the branches inexplicably unraveling themselves. "You know Harry, when your father used to get this quiet, I used to sit beside him and just wait until he told me what was wrong." Harry pulled his gaze up to Sirius. Sirius' countenance was immediately soothing, but Harry couldn't bring himself to tell Sirius what he thought he'd done. The very idea-- Sirius would have probably wanted to check Harry into a hospital straight away. "I'm just . . . confused." Sirius waited patiently, the silence tempting Harry to unleash his feelings. "That thing with Neville today. . . I think that I did it. I mean, I think I'm the one who got him out of the branches." "I had your wand, Harry." "I know. And that's why I'm so confused. As it was happening there was this voice in my head telling me I could do it. It was like I was telling myself I could do it. But. . . that's impossible." Harry felt like he wanted to scream out of frustration. "I didn't have a wand!" Sirius' expression was unreadable, but his voice placid. "Accidental magic isn't entirely uncommon, Harry." "But it wasn't accidental. I wanted it to happen and it did. I've done things before: I set a boa constrictor loose in the London Zoo, I turned my Aunt Marge into a balloon-- those were all on accident. This is the first time I've ever done anything like this, Sirius. Even with a wand, that spell isn't exactly an easy one, and I did it without even an incantation." Harry's voice was shaking as were his hands. The anxiety was so intense that he felt like he was going to throw up. The bus had landed and the students were filing off. Sirius squeezed Harry's arm. "Let's go in the back entrance." They did so, the air still pleasant and warm as the sun began to set. Sirius' voice was soft but serious. "It is possible to do what you did today, Harry. But I must stress to you that very, very few wizards can do it. I only know three Free-Handers personally-- and they were only able to do it on rare occasions. Only when the moment called for it-- when there was no other option. And even then, it isn't always successful." Harry felt dread eating away at him. "Please don't tell me one of them is Voldemort." "You know it is, Harry. But so can Dumbledore and so could your Father." Harry's heart skipped a beat. "My father?" Sirius nodded. "I saw it once myself. Most fascinating thing I'd ever seen. He actually disarmed a death eater by shouting 'Expeliarmus' only. His wand had been destroyed and we were both sure it was then end of our lives-- only he managed it." Sirius smiled. "Old Snape never knew what hit him." "It was Snape?" Sirius struggled to keep a straight face. "I'd never seen him so shocked!" Harry smiled weakly. "I just . . . I wish it wasn't me. I wish I were. . . normal. I don't like these surprises-- discovering I can speak Parseltongue, finding out I'm a free-hander or whatever you called it--" "Surprises are a part of life-- especially yours. You are who you are, Harry. And the fact of the matter is that you are special. You can't change it, so you're better off embracing it instead of fighting it." Sirius smiled and gave Harry a hug. He buried his face in Sirius' robes, thankful to have someone who understood. Harry climbed the immense staircase to his room, in a much better frame of mind. The room was empty because everyone was downstairs at dinner. Harry wasn't hungry at all-- no, there was much too much to think about. He plopped down on his bed, itching to do something. That's when he spotted the purple and orange Mystic Pier souvenir bag peeking out from his suitcase. He took it out and retrieved the postcards from inside-- at the pier a vendor had been charging 3 sickles for photographs and 2 extra for turning them into postcards. He smiled at the waving images of himself, Ron and Hermione. It was the perfect time to send an update to Sophie and Dudley. Sophie:
You would have adored New Orleans! We took these at a wicked amusement park. Right now we are at the Triangle and should reach the Caledonian Forest by Friday. I've been taking lots of photos to show you when I get back! Wish you were here!
Love, Harry and the other one read: Dudley:
You're always going on about Pleasure Beach in Blackpool? I bet it's *pants* compared to Mystic Pier! Ron and I even threw up! We're having a brilliant time and today we took a tour of the Bermuda Triangle. Talk about heaven!
--Harry Harry opened the door to go downstairs to the Owlery, only to be met by Ron who was smiling contentedly. Harry smiled and tried to scoot past him. "All right there, Ron?" "There you are, Harry! You all right? We missed you at dinner-- oh did you ever miss a good meal! There was a whole table full of desserts! Oy-- where are you off to then?" "The Owlery." "Ohhh, are those the ones from Mystic Pier?" Ron took them out of Harry's hands eagerly. "They came out good, eh?" He turnd them over and he chuckled. "Should've known you'd be writin' to Sophie." Harry snatched them back. "Admit it Harry. You fancy her." "Sophie? Oh come on. She's like a sister." Ron sniggered. "Right. A sister. I don't spend near as much time talking to Ginny as you do with Sophie." "You know what, Ron?" Harry challenged, stepping back inside the room, shutting the door behind them. "To quote Jake Dugan, people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Here you are, pointing a finger at me when you're the one who doesn't have the guts to admit that you like She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Especially after what happened that night at The Basement!" Ron stared at his friend and then walked away towards the other end of the room. He ran his fingers through his hair and took a seat on his bed. "I really do like her, Harry." Harry had to muster all his strength to keep from shouting out in relief! Instead he joined Ron's side and said, oh so cooly, "You do, really?" "You have no idea." Harry was completely still-- not wanting to move too quickly for fear of breaking this most uncommon spell of Weasley candor. "I liked her last year too, but there was that lously Krum. And then this year. . ." Ron shook his head. "What?" Harry prodded, betraying his eagerness. "it may sound daft, but . . . I thought she liked you, Harry." "Me?!?" Harry nearly sprang to his feet. "Ron, she's liked you since last year! I tried telling you, but--" "I know, I know," said Ron grimly. "but I was . . . stubborn. You've always been so close to each other, and when you took her to Sophie's party she looked so happy--" "I'm close to her like a brother, Ron! And she only went with me to that party because you didn't ask her-- she was happy because you actually paid attention to her that night!" "--and then I kept telling myself 'no way in hell you're good enough for her, Weasley. She deserves someone important and heroic like you, Harry. Not some penniless nobody like me." Harry was in disbelief. "Ron! She needs someone like you! You care more about Hermione than anyone else in the world! You're the one that deserves her! You can give her what I can't-- what no one else can for that matter!" Harry was pleading with his eyes-- Ron had to believe him. Ron's voice grew quiet. "You know, Dean told me that just before Christmas break, he . . . saw you and Hermione in the hall." Harry's stomach plunged. "Oh . . ." he dropped his voice. "That." Ron nodded. "And. . .hell, you're my best mate, Harry. I would never . . . I thought you liked her. I couldn't possibly tell her how I felt. Not when I thought you liked her and vice versa." "Ron, you couldn't have been more mistaken if you tried! That kiss, it . . . it didn't mean anything. She'd just finished gushing to me about how much she wished you'd care for her and I was being the comforting big brother and . . . we got a little too emotional, the both of us. I stopped it, actually, and told her I couldn't do that to you, Ron. I couldn't when I knew that you two were meant for each other." "You knew--" "I knew, yes, of course. And it's been bloody infuriating to wait for you two stubborn mules to admit it to yourselves!" Ron looked severely troubled. "None of that matters anyway. There's nothing I can do about it now. She'll never-" "Hermione's feelings haven't changed," said Harry delicately. Harry and Ron held their stare. Finally, Ron kicked off his shoes and started going about the business of getting ready for bed. "Crazy what happened today with Neville, eh?" Harry cleared his throat, not too comfortable with this change of subject. "Y-yeah. Weird." "I guess maybe Fred and George were right-- the trip is spooked." "Oh, I'm sure there's a logical explanation." "Yeah? Such as?" Harry bit his lip. Should he tell Ron the truth? That it was him? That he's a Free-Hander? No-- Harry could hardly admit such a thing to himself, much less to Ron. Ron had been so very supportive to Harry over the years-- but Harry feared that telling Ron he had a power only shared by the likes of Dumbledore and Voldemort would be a bit too much to swallow. And it certainly frightened the hell out of Harry. "I . . . dunno," Harry answered finally. "Oh well, it's over now. Those Slytherins, though. Laughing the way they did at poor Neville. Lucky thing I didn't have my wand, beacuse I'd have blown them right out of the water." "Me too," Harry agreed eagerly, getting into bed. Ron carelessly muttered 'nox' and the room fell black and quiet. Harry finally spoke up. "Ron . . . about Hermione? I meant what I said. Her feelings haven't changed. You just have to trust me on this one." Ron's voice came quietly, almost at a whisper. "I trust you, Harry."