16. …Harry figures out a problem, for once
Harry blinked and wiped some of the soot out of his eyes. "Well, that was weird," he
pronounced, stating the obvious. Apparently the enchanted earring had, for some
inexplicable reason, been counting down to midnight. As the hour approached the ticks
had grown louder, deeper and generally more ominous. Then, as Hermiones clock stuck
twelve, it started bouncing around her table like some deranged Mexican jumping bean,
spitting multicolored sparks in every direction. The finale was anticlimactic. The three
Gryffindors were pressed up as close to the wall as they could get, bracing themselves.
Instead of the terrible explosion they were expecting the earring paused in midair,
hovering for a moment, then in a clear and well-enunciated voice, said "Poof!" It
exploded like swept soot down a chimney, silently blackening the room.
"I wonder what the other one did?" Ginny queried, her eyes shockingly bright, looking up
at Harry from the black lump huddled under his arm.
"If were lucky it did the same thing and everyone just thought it was some New Years
party trick gone a bit wrong." Hermione didn't sound hopeful, though, and considering
the state her room was now in, she had a right to be in a bad mood. "Well, I'm sure Ron
will be glad to know that we turned him into the girlfriend of one of our worst enemies
for nothing."
It was then that they began to hear the screams.
Ron was feeling a little embarrassed, which was weird considering that half an hour ago
he would have sworn that he had absolutely no pride left. It had happened right when
Draco had just managed to unhook the front of Ron's dress. He had been doing some
very distracting things with the breasts that had been encased therein and Ron had been
dazedly wondering why girls were so uptight about boys touching their breasts. The
nerves had obviously been placed so as to welcome caress and…and….and… And that
must be why; it made it too hard to concentrate. Oh, who the hell needs to concentrate?
And just then a dark, slightly greasy head had peeked around the door to their nook
muttering, "now I was wondering if…" and then had trailed off as the man caught a look
at the display spread out before him. For a moment they all formed a frozen tableau: Ron
paused in mid gasp, bare from the waist up; Draco peeking up startled from between
Ron's breasts; and Professor Snape leaning halfway through the doorway, his jaw
looking like it was about to drop off. Then Ron heard the snapping of several sets of
canine jaws and Snape ducked out of sight with a hasty, "Oh, no. I must have been
mistaken. Crazy idea in the first place."
Draco hadn't seemed to mind too much, aside from the fact that it was an interruption,
and had merely said something to the effect of "Well, what does he expect, walking into a
closed room?" and had gone back to what he had been doing with a wicked little grin
curling the corners of his mouth. Ron had had a harder time shaking the encounter,
however, and it had taken a full two minutes of Draco's skills before his mind had once
again returned to that warm, fuzzy place. And now, as he lay next to Draco, sleeping
swathed in some of the ridiculous yardage of Ron's costume, the scene had come back to
haunt him. He was having a hard time putting his finger on just what had disturbed him
so much, but he could either try to puzzle it out or try to go to sleep. Considering the fact
that a floor is much less comfortable when one is…unoccupied, he was a bit baffled as to
how Draco had pulled that second option off.
Oh hell, Ron thought next. He'd never felt himself very good at thinking, and certainly
not when it involved self-analysis.
"Wake up, Draco," he growled, punching the blond in the arm. "If we're gonna sleep we
should do it somewhere comfortable!"
"It sounds like Hermione's table is transmitting the sound from the council room now."
Ginny was trying to best Harry at stating the obvious.
She continued, "It doesn't sound like they're having a very good time does it. I wonder
which part of the table is transmitting the sound exactly, or if it's the whole thing?"
Hermione shook her head in puzzlement. "I have no clue." She was listening with interest
to the myriad of sounds coming from the table – a cacophony of canine barks, screaming
men and women, and a particularly colorful round of curses in a deep voice. She was also
pretty sure that somebody was laughing gleefully, and it sounded like Lucius Malfoy.
"When the earring exploded, it must have transferred its powers to the table. Probably
because we used a silver amplifier in the first place," Harry reasoned.
Ginny and Hermione stared at him in shock.
"What," Harry said, "can't I figure out a problem for once?"
"Figure out what we're supposed to do now that we've blown up half of the stupid
council room!" Ginny snapped. The stress of the whole stupid plan was getting to her.
"We have to get in touch with Ron," Hermione said gravely. "He has to remove the
amplifier before it does something else strange and they trace it to us."
"And our whole plan will be for nothing?" Harry asked.
"We'll think of a new one," answered Hermione. "Right now, we have to worry about
Ron's safety." Hermione was a little more worried about Ron's than she let on. There
was a very specific reason that the extended Polyjuice Potion was (slightly) illegal: it had
the tendency to modify the feelings and emotions of the drinker as well as those who
came in contact with them. She hoped that one weekend of being Blaise Zabini wasn't
wreaking havoc on Ron's mental state and wasn't doing incredibly strange things to the
Malfoys either. She would never even have suggested such a potion, except Harry's life
was probably on the line. I should have taken the potion myself, she thought angrily.
"Harry…Ginny…" she began, "there's something I have to tell you about that potion."
Harry blinked and wiped some of the soot out of his eyes. "Well, that was weird," he
pronounced, stating the obvious. Apparently the enchanted earring had, for some
inexplicable reason, been counting down to midnight. As the hour approached the ticks
had grown louder, deeper and generally more ominous. Then, as Hermiones clock stuck
twelve, it started bouncing around her table like some deranged Mexican jumping bean,
spitting multicolored sparks in every direction. The finale was anticlimactic. The three
Gryffindors were pressed up as close to the wall as they could get, bracing themselves.
Instead of the terrible explosion they were expecting the earring paused in midair,
hovering for a moment, then in a clear and well-enunciated voice, said "Poof!" It
exploded like swept soot down a chimney, silently blackening the room.
"I wonder what the other one did?" Ginny queried, her eyes shockingly bright, looking up
at Harry from the black lump huddled under his arm.
"If were lucky it did the same thing and everyone just thought it was some New Years
party trick gone a bit wrong." Hermione didn't sound hopeful, though, and considering
the state her room was now in, she had a right to be in a bad mood. "Well, I'm sure Ron
will be glad to know that we turned him into the girlfriend of one of our worst enemies
for nothing."
It was then that they began to hear the screams.
Ron was feeling a little embarrassed, which was weird considering that half an hour ago
he would have sworn that he had absolutely no pride left. It had happened right when
Draco had just managed to unhook the front of Ron's dress. He had been doing some
very distracting things with the breasts that had been encased therein and Ron had been
dazedly wondering why girls were so uptight about boys touching their breasts. The
nerves had obviously been placed so as to welcome caress and…and….and… And that
must be why; it made it too hard to concentrate. Oh, who the hell needs to concentrate?
And just then a dark, slightly greasy head had peeked around the door to their nook
muttering, "now I was wondering if…" and then had trailed off as the man caught a look
at the display spread out before him. For a moment they all formed a frozen tableau: Ron
paused in mid gasp, bare from the waist up; Draco peeking up startled from between
Ron's breasts; and Professor Snape leaning halfway through the doorway, his jaw
looking like it was about to drop off. Then Ron heard the snapping of several sets of
canine jaws and Snape ducked out of sight with a hasty, "Oh, no. I must have been
mistaken. Crazy idea in the first place."
Draco hadn't seemed to mind too much, aside from the fact that it was an interruption,
and had merely said something to the effect of "Well, what does he expect, walking into a
closed room?" and had gone back to what he had been doing with a wicked little grin
curling the corners of his mouth. Ron had had a harder time shaking the encounter,
however, and it had taken a full two minutes of Draco's skills before his mind had once
again returned to that warm, fuzzy place. And now, as he lay next to Draco, sleeping
swathed in some of the ridiculous yardage of Ron's costume, the scene had come back to
haunt him. He was having a hard time putting his finger on just what had disturbed him
so much, but he could either try to puzzle it out or try to go to sleep. Considering the fact
that a floor is much less comfortable when one is…unoccupied, he was a bit baffled as to
how Draco had pulled that second option off.
Oh hell, Ron thought next. He'd never felt himself very good at thinking, and certainly
not when it involved self-analysis.
"Wake up, Draco," he growled, punching the blond in the arm. "If we're gonna sleep we
should do it somewhere comfortable!"
"It sounds like Hermione's table is transmitting the sound from the council room now."
Ginny was trying to best Harry at stating the obvious.
She continued, "It doesn't sound like they're having a very good time does it. I wonder
which part of the table is transmitting the sound exactly, or if it's the whole thing?"
Hermione shook her head in puzzlement. "I have no clue." She was listening with interest
to the myriad of sounds coming from the table – a cacophony of canine barks, screaming
men and women, and a particularly colorful round of curses in a deep voice. She was also
pretty sure that somebody was laughing gleefully, and it sounded like Lucius Malfoy.
"When the earring exploded, it must have transferred its powers to the table. Probably
because we used a silver amplifier in the first place," Harry reasoned.
Ginny and Hermione stared at him in shock.
"What," Harry said, "can't I figure out a problem for once?"
"Figure out what we're supposed to do now that we've blown up half of the stupid
council room!" Ginny snapped. The stress of the whole stupid plan was getting to her.
"We have to get in touch with Ron," Hermione said gravely. "He has to remove the
amplifier before it does something else strange and they trace it to us."
"And our whole plan will be for nothing?" Harry asked.
"We'll think of a new one," answered Hermione. "Right now, we have to worry about
Ron's safety." Hermione was a little more worried about Ron's than she let on. There
was a very specific reason that the extended Polyjuice Potion was (slightly) illegal: it had
the tendency to modify the feelings and emotions of the drinker as well as those who
came in contact with them. She hoped that one weekend of being Blaise Zabini wasn't
wreaking havoc on Ron's mental state and wasn't doing incredibly strange things to the
Malfoys either. She would never even have suggested such a potion, except Harry's life
was probably on the line. I should have taken the potion myself, she thought angrily.
"Harry…Ginny…" she began, "there's something I have to tell you about that potion."