Chapter Two

Beverly Whitby

Harry and Ron woke early the next day and joined the rest of the Weasleys in taking their trunks to the living room. Harry had travelled by Floo Powder twice, but both times had made him feel queasy.

After eating breakfast, everyone gathered around the fire. Mr. Weasley pulled out a small drawstring pouch, took a pinch of powder from it, and threw it into the flames, which turned emerald green instantly.

"Alright; Fred and George, off you go."

Fred stepped into the flames then shouted "Elysian Fields!" This must be the name of the Whitbys' house. He was quickly followed by George.

"Right then. Molly, you take Ginny."

Ginny and Mrs. Weasley jumped into the flames, and soon vanished.

"Alright boys, you know the drill. I'll put out the fire and Percy and I will Apparate afterwards."

Harry and Ron exchanged confident looks. Harry then stepped into the fire, shouted 'Elysian Fields,' and was gone.

He was spinning very fast, elbows tucked in so they wouldn't bump against anything, rushing past a number of blurred fireplaces, when he came to a halt in a very nice kitchen. He stepped out of the fire and was soon greeted by a jolly looking couple.

"Is this the young Harry Potter?" Mrs. Whitby paused and smiled nervously, "What an honour to meet you, lad!" she cried, taking his hand and shaking it warmly. Mrs. Whitby was a middle-aged witch with greying blonde hair and a slim figure. An older wizard approached him and put a hand on his shoulder, reciting "An honour, a real honour." But soon, their attention wafted back to Ron and his siblings, who they hadn't seen in a while. "Oh, look at you, Ron! My, my! You've gotten so tall! And not a freckle out of place, you dear!"

There was a loud 'pop' as Mr. Weasley and Percy Apparated into the kitchen.

"Ferguson! Lorraine! It's been ages!" Mr. Weasley shook hands with Mr. Whitby as Percy's life was being squeezed out of him by Mrs. Whitby, who could "remember when he was in diapers."

Harry and Ron were caught in a web of hands shaking and arms hugging, which they soon found their way out of, and Ron immediately bumped into a tall blonde girl who must be the infamous Beverly.

"Hello, Percy," she said, "Have you seen Ron?"

"Are you barmy? I am Ron!"

Her eyes widened. "Heavens! You've gotten so tall! Quite handsome, too."

Harry noticed that Ron found his own blushing infuriating.

"And is this Harry? It's really nice to meet you," she said pleasantly. Harry smiled in return, but it faded quickly as Ron nudged him in the ribs. Beverly had a very doll-like face and an elegant posture, which made Harry find her more pleasing than monstrous, as Ron repeatedly told him that she was.

"Well, everyone," announced Mr. Whitby from behind them. "Let's off to our rooms to get settled."

Mr. Whitby assigned rooms to everyone as they walked down the grand and opulent hallway. "Ginny, you'll be staying with Bev." Ginny and Beverly smiled at one another. "Percy, your room is to the right." Percy slowly trudged into his room and closed the door, leaving Harry with a question or two. "Fred and George are off to the left..." the twins practically galloped into their room and shut the door, and almost instantly laughter was heard.

"Right, then," said Mr. Whitby with a curious brow, "Arthur and Molly, you're there." Ron's parents began to pull their luggage into their rooms.

"And here we are: Ron and Harry's room."

Mr. Whitby unlocked the door and revealed a very large room with a four poster bed near the windows, a crackling fire in the large mantled fireplace, and on the table by the furthest window on the right were fresh cookies.

"Ah, Lorraine's recipe—she makes the best cookies!" he said, picking one up for himself. "I hope you don't mind?"

The boys shook their heads and smiled. Their room was quite comfortable, and they had a great view overlooking the rocky beach.

"Well, I'll let you boys get settled in. Dinner's at six." With that, Mr. Whitby closed the door and they had their room to themselves.

The boys ate their cookies—which disappeared quickly, though not due to any magic other than that of two nearly fifteen-year-old boys' appetites—over a game of wizard's chess. After Ron beat him for the third time, Harry asked a few questions.

"What do I need to bring with me to Haywick Park?"

"Just spending money and your wand. Oh, and your broomstick. Fred says they have three Quidditch pitches you can play on."

Harry lit up at the last sentence. He loved Quidditch, and was even the Gryffindor team Seeker at Hogwarts. "But Ron, how will we carry everything around?"

"Oh, Mum said that she'd bring Bottomless Bags to put our stuff in."

"Bottomless Bags? Like Marry Poppins' carpetbag?"

"Mary 'who'?" Ron replied in confusion.

"I forgot. You've probably never seen a movie before. I haven't seen that many either, but sometimes when the Dursley's were away I'd sneak into Dudley's room and watch a film or some TV."

"What language are you speaking?" said Ron, who didn't understand such Muggle inventions.

"Never mind."

"Checkmate," said Ron, whose bishop had just pummelled Harry's last remaining castle.

"So, how did the Whitbys become so rich?" asked Harry, admiring their room.

"Mr. Whitby was an Auror. Quite a good one, I believe, until he retired."

"Why did he retire?"

"Well, after the legendary Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who—while still in diapers—all that was left was to round up were the remaining supporters," Ron said goofily, causing Harry to roll with laughter. "But really, Mr. Whitby caught a great deal of Death Eaters in his day."

"Then it's impossible not to feel safe here." Harry said with a smile.

After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room, which had a crackling fire in the centre with several armchairs circled around it, and bookcases lined against the walls. The boys were deep in a conversation about Quidditch strategies when Beverly suddenly seated herself beside Ron.

"Ginny tells me you two have had your share of adventures at Hogwarts."

Ron leaned over in his seat and glared at Ginny. Harry felt that Ron was being childish and replied, "Yeah, you could say that."

"I can't wait to go to Hogwarts! I've been learning at home for the past four years, but my mum convinced Father that it'd be best if I took the O.W.L.s at Hogwarts. I talked him into letting me go for the rest of the term, but he was reluctant."

"Why?"

"Well, he used to be an Auror, and he's afraid of..."

Beverly stopped talking, with a look on her face that reminded Harry of Dobby before he started beating his head against something.

"What?" asked Ron curiously.

"No one, I mean, nothing... can we talk about something else?"

"You brought it up," Ron mumbled in frustration.

"I don't know much about Hogwarts, but Ginny told me about the Quidditch Tournament, and that it's played between the houses. What did she mean by the Houses?"

"Well, Ron and I are in Gryffindor House," said Harry.

"Which is the best!" Ron exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air with house spirit.

"And the other three are Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin."

"I've heard of Gryffindor and Slytherin, but Hufflepuff? That sounds more like a creamy pastry than a house."

"Well, the houses were named after the four founders: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin."

"So, what purpose do the houses serve?"

"Well, you have classes with your house, eat meals at the same table, support your Quidditch team, and earn points for the House Cup."

"The House Cup?"

"Hermione needs to lend her a copy of Hogwarts, A History," Ron muttered to Harry.

"Well," he continued, glancing at Ron, "If you answer questions right or do some service to the school, you earn points for your house. If you break the rules, or put Snape in a foul mood—"

"—which he's always in—" Ron added.

"—then you'll lose points."

"You've never lost points, have you?"

Harry and Ron laughed. "We both lost our house 100 points in our first year. 150, if you include Hermione," said Harry.

"Hermione?" said Beverly, quirking her brow.

"Yeah, she's one of our best friends," Ron told her.

"And she lost points too?" Beverly asked.

"Oh, it was horrible, everyone kept glaring at us. I almost thought we were going to be expelled for causing a riot," said Harry.

"So, Ron, who's your favourite teacher?" Beverly asked, turning to him.

"I have no favourite teacher," he retorted, turning his head.

"Okay—Harry?"

Harry tilted his head to side and thought. Who was his favourite teacher?

"Professor Lupin," he stated finally.

"Lupin? What does he teach?"

"He taught Defence Against the Dark Arts our third year. He was the best teacher we ever had," Ron answered.

"I've heard the Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers don't last long."

"No, they don't. We've had a new one each year," Harry replied.

"The worst one was Lockhart," Ron gagged in disgust.

"Gilderoy Lockhart? He taught your class? I've always wanted to meet him! What's he like?"

"A pompous git who couldn't find his backside with two wands," Ron muttered.

"Why are you in such a foul mood?" she asked Ron, taking offence.

"Maybe it's because I refuse to buy this act of yours," he admitted, sitting upright in his chair.

"What do you mean?" she asked, genuinely baffled.

"You were always such a terror unless someone else was around! Come off it, what's your angle?"

"Ron!" Beverly laughed, "I was four years old! Do you honestly think that I'd be the same?"

Ron blushed slightly. "Well, you were always so mean."

"That's because I liked you, not because I was mean!" Beverly was laughing very hard, and Ron's face was slowly matching the colour of his hair. Harry couldn't help but laugh with Beverly, which made Ron turn redder with anger.

"So," she began as her laughter subsided. "Who's your least favourite teacher, Harry?"

He didn't have to think hard about that one. "Professor Snape. He's the Potions teacher."

"Severus Snape?" She asked, her face going white.

"Yeah, he's terrible," Ron groaned.

"Beverly? Are you okay?" Harry asked. Her face had gone very pale and her eyes glazed over.

"I'm sorry, will you please excuse me?"

She quickly leapt from her chair and headed for the stairwell.

"Didn't I tell you? She's mental!"

Harry watched as Beverly quickly ascended the stairs and thought that her father had good reasons for never sending her to Hogwarts.