A/N: Canada's 'stupid' and 'nothing', is it, Herb Brooks? Well…
CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON! CANADA WON!
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CANADA WON THE GOLD MEDAL FOR WOMEN'S AND MEN'S HOCKEY! (And yes, we do exist. Very much so.)
…~'*'~…
"Your eyes told me."
'What on earth does that mean? What does he know?' thought Hermione for what felt like the hundredth time that day, 'was something wrong with me? Was I blushing? Stupid, Hermione… what does that have to do with your eyes?'
It had been two weeks since the first task, and Hermione hadn't spoken much to Harry. You see, she was avoiding him. Not exactly by mistake and certainly not intentionally… okay, more intentionally than by mistake, but she had reasons. Firstly, she wanted to do her part of being the only student who didn't swarm up to him; secondly, his image had changed completely in the first task; and thirdly, she had fallen for him. Of course, three reasons were enough for Hermione to be shunning Harry (at least, in her mind's eye).
Harry wasn't exactly thrilled in these days either. Maybe it was because of Marindernia or Whin, Hermione didn't know. She did know that Ron blamed Whin entirely. One day he was babbling to Hermione about catching Whin off-guard and threatening him with some treacherous potion that would rot your insides and make your bones shrivel up, but Hermione wasn't listening. Harry had just turned up at the end of their corridor with Fred and George. Hermione paled immediately, and steered an outraged Ron away before he could spot them. Yes, this went on for two weeks. Two long, agonizing weeks.
Hermione was getting desperate. She was almost on the edge about asking Ron to force Harry and her to talk, but then she remembered that she was the one doing the avoiding. Half of her wanted to go chat with Harry, and the other held her back, like some sort of invisible tug-of-war, and she was the rope. Little did she know, on that day at the end of those two weeks, her decision was made clear, and it all started the minute she woke up.
Hermione got dressed, checked that her hair was reasonably tamed and went down to the common room. The moment she stepped into the green clad room, she knew there was something going on. Ernie MacMillian sulked past her, looking very embarrassed with his pink checks; Fred and George were standing in a corner with identical devious smirks fixed on their faces and Parvati and Lavender were giggling like they had taken a tittering potion. Ron and Harry were standing among Dean and Seamus, but none of them looked as though they could match Ron's anger. He was positively steaming at the ears.
"How can they do this to me?" he howled as Hermione approached, "NOT AGAIN!"
"Exactly why are you making so much racket, Ron?" asked Hermione strictly once she had fought her way into the circle. Ron, apparently, was too infuriated to speck. Harry jabbed his thumb to the opposite wall, and when Hermione looked round, she spotted a bulletin board.
'This can't be so bad,' thought Hermione tiredly as she walked up to it, 'such a small thing to get upset over-'
Then she realized it wasn't when she read the only piece of parchment pinned to it:
This year students from ages fourteen and up will be participating in the annual Anika Ball, which will take place on September the twenty-ninth in the Grand Hall at midnight. Being that this is a formal event, students are required to wear their finest dress robes/ evening dress to this occasion. School champions and their partners will open the ball. The garden will be open to private converse and dinner as well as beverages will be provided.
Thank-you,
Professor Slaton Siamoen.
Hermione's heart gave a funny jolt. A ball? 'This couldn't possibly happen', thought Hermione nervously, 'what'll I do? I can't go through with this again!'
There was a ball at last year's tournament too. The Yule Ball wasn't really thrilling, but Hermione had a good deal, since she hadn't gone alone. Victor Krum, her partner from last year, was a Professional Bulgarian seeker whom she had seen play at the Quidditch World Cup. He was a terrible dancer and he was eighteen at the time, but on a higher note, she hadn't spoken to him since she had seen him off at Hogwarts.
"Sounds like fun, eh?" said Harry once she returned. Hermione looked up at him to check if he was joking, and when she saw his bland face expressionless, she wasn't sure what to say.
They hurried to the Grand Hall where it looked like some sort of meeting was taking its toll. Everyone was gossiping secretively and as Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down at the usual Hogwarts table, the talking stopped.
"All right, enough- get to your seats for an announcement, please!" said Siamoen, who had just approached the front of the hall. Dumbledore was standing next to him, his beard twitching as he watched the Hogwart's table.
"We have an announcement to make," started Siamoen once everyone had gone silent, "Now, I gather you've all read the notice in your school's common rooms? Yes? Well, I know none of you have the chance to go purchase your dress robes, and so forth, so I'm granting you a trip to Diagon Alley in London!"
Most of the girls looked thrilled. Parvati and Lavender instantly seized their notes from their pockets of the gowns they hoped to get and whispered excitedly. For some reason, Dryconderoga and Nockdernia tables didn't look at all pleased. In fact, they all glared at the Professors.
"Don't fret, my fellow Dryconderoga and Nockdrnia students, Hogsmeade is just as good as any! They've got bookstores and Ice Cream Parlors and Joke Shops and foreign bistros and all those fascinating what-you-calls-ems" he let out an excited breath, "Well, we'll leave on the first day of the weekend, so keep an eye on your calendars."
Doom hit Hermione… hard. Since that day, she didn't quite feel herself, like she was constantly sick in the stomach. Maybe she felt sick more than she looked, but who was there to judge? Ron. He was the worst of all Hermione's misery of the surprise ball, and it made her want to wrap her fingers around his freckled neck and strangle him. When Harry, Hermione and him walked down the corridors, Ron was the one who made all those childish noises, and Hermione could tell Harry was starting to get a little suspicious. Or maybe it was because he was nervous about the ball too. Hermione didn't know, nor did she want to ask him.
Perhaps Harry would dance with her? Somehow, she knew he wouldn't ask her to the ball. She would often peek around corners or around people's head to watch him (the exact opposite of avoiding him) to see if he was asking anyone. But, Hermione was surprised. Harry was usually the one to be hiding from view of girls and Hermione had once seen him ducking behind Ron as they crossed the Grand Hall. Maybe he wanted to go alone?
Hermione knew for sure, when that dreaded day would come, she would be dressed very elegantly, but for no one. She wouldn't get a partner, and while Lavender, Parvati and Ginny were giggling over pieces of paper on their four-posters, Hermione would be reading a book or doing her Charms homework on hers. What was the point of getting ready for something you would have no fun in?
"You've got to crack open your shell, Hermione!" said Lavender one day as she tried to summon a flower to put in her hair, "It's your chance to dress up!"
"And plus," Parvati added, "You're one of Harry Potter's best friends! The boy who beats the Slytherins senselessly at every Quidditch match so far, and the boy who fought you-know-who more than anyone!" she giggled, "And plus… he's rather good-looking. Maybe he'll take you to the ball! Gemmas been turned down by him already. Maybe he's waiting for you!"
That's the way it always went in the girl's dorms. Gossiping about boys and dresses were always heard and the remains of flower pedals were covering the ground. Hermione, however had better things to do, but maybe that wasn't the case on the day of the Hogsmeade trip, and the day before the Anika Ball.
They used a filthy pair of Muggle suspenders as a portkey to get there. As much as Hermione enjoyed being so close to Harry as possible when they laid a single finger upon the suspenders, she despised portkeys. It meant ending up halfway across the world, and it was very common for someone to end up off his or her target. If you wanted to go somewhere tropical and you only packed a swimming suit, you could end up at the North Pole.
The next moment, most of the Hogwarts students (the others would be coming a moment after) appeared in the middle of the crowded street.
"Oh, my head," moaned Ron, who had landed in a very odd position with his legs beneath his arms, "Hey! We're here!"
Harry, who had already managed to stand, heaved a blushing Hermione to her feet and they all looked around. Ron was pointing to a banner hanging above them that had in gold writing 'Diagon Alley: Just what the wizard ordered!' The street was tightly lined with shops and restaurants, which were packed with people. Hermione saw Quality Quidditch supplies next to Flourish and Blotts. 'That'll be Ron's first stop', thought Hermione savagely.
As a few wizards and witches stared at the crowd of students who ended up in the middle of the street, Professor Dumbledore's voice was heard somewhere in the throng of students.
"Students, have a good time and come back to his very place at the end of the day. Obey the rules, and please, don't get into trouble!"
"Well," said Harry, who didn't look properly happy until now, "You heard what he said. Let's go!"
And they did. It was the first time Hermione felt like her usual self since they left Hogwarts; this was practically an opportunity to get away from the studying at Hogwarts. And they went to all the usual places they used to. Unfortunately for Hermione, Quality Quidditch supplies was first, and as Hermione waited impatiently outside the door, Harry and Ron came out with bulging packages of all sorts of things Hermione feared to see again.
Hermione noticed that the Dryconderoga and Nockdernia students were also roaming down the lanes, looking apprehensive. Some were even having a good time (Hermione saw a few Nockdernians hurry into a bistro, obviously eager to try some of that 'foreign' food Silversmith told them about). But, at the same time, Hermione noticed the Dryconderoga students, who were glaring at every witch and wizard who walked by them, seemed to be torn between excitement and dignity. Maybe they hated the way the Hogwarts students took the appealing side of Diagon Alley so precious.
A few of the teachers were seen also. Dumbledore and McGonagall, obviously, went to The Leaky Cauldron for a drink, but Hermione was a bit surprised to see Professor Kohl, who was politely sipping her wine with a smiling face, and Silversmith, who was howling in laughter for no apparent reason in the window. As much as Hermione wanted to watch them, she was eager to go to Flourish and Blotts, and she dragged Harry and Ron with her.
When they entered the deserted and murky store, a bell chimed deep inside the shop.
"Why do we have to go here?" moaned Ron with annoyance, "What's the point?"
But Hermione was too preoccupied with searching the dusty bookcases for something she hadn't read already (which was like trying to find a needle in a haystack), until something caught her eye.
"The New Hogwarts: A History!" squealed Hermione in shook as she seized the large volume from the shelf with trembling hands, "I knew it was coming out! I read it in Witches Weekly, but I never knew it'd be so soon!"
Ron wasn't pleased, and he was about to say something until the storeowner walked inside, his large boots hitting the wooden floor with a loud clunk at each step. He stood behind the register, a kind smile on his aged face.
"Yeah, we just got those brought in last week," he said in a rough voice, "It's got everything."
Hermione scurried over to him, her eyes shining with anticipation. She didn't listen to Ron's noise of annoyance.
"Everything? The Professor updates?"
"Yes."
"The new map of the grounds?"
"Sure does."
"And the reviews of the four houses and who's in them?"
"Yes indeed, hon, and you can get it for a small price of," Hermione held her breath, "five galleons."
Hermione frowned. She only brought money for her dress and perhaps a small mug of butterbeer. How could see know that her ultimately favorite book was lying on a shelf in a place she only visited to look for 'The History of Mugwamps'? And now, her hopes were shattered. She set the book on the counter, and shook her head.
"I haven't enough," she mumbled sadly, taking out her purse and putting one lonely galleon on the counter, "That's all I've got to spend. I need the rest for my robes."
As Ron crackled evilly behind her, Harry, who Hermione almost thought wasn't there at all, stepped forwards.
"How much do you have?" he asked Hermione, reaching into his pocket, "I've got four galleons to spend. You can have that."
Hermione went pink.
"Oh, no, Harry! I couldn't do that!" she said quickly, "I don't want to waste your money!"
"How is it 'wasting' if you want the book so badly?" said Harry, smiling. As Hermione stuttered foolishly, Harry took out four galleons from his pocket, set them on the counter with Hermione's gold piece, and said, "One updated version of the new 'Hogwarts: A History', please."
"Sure thing," said the storeowner, a smile on his rosy, wrinkled cheeks. Hermione, who apparently had no opinion in this, found a package stuffed into her arms. She looked down, and thinking the whole thing was just some miraculous dream, gasped in amazement.
"Thanks so much, Harry!" she yelped before hugging him… briefly, "I've wanted this so much!"
"S'nothing," said Harry, whose eyes were twinkling. Ron scowled, angry that he didn't see Hermione suffer.
"So," said the shop owner, leaning over the counter, "You're Harry Potter, eh?"
Harry, who was sidetracked by Hermione's sudden spurt of happiness, nodded in regret. The shopkeeper smiled even wider, and this time, it reached his eyes.
"You're the talk of London, you know. I've heard it ever since the start of the year," he said as a matter of factly, "All the stuff about the tournament. You did very well, I'd say."
"Er… thanks," said Harry, who didn't look the least bit impressed. He didn't like people gapping at his scar, or indeed knowing who he was.
"You know the lad? Whin, I think he was? Well, he grew up around the shore, you know? Surrounded by water," continued the old man, his voice reduced to an excited whisper, "I don't know where, exactly, but somewhere remote. And you were almost tied to him. You were almost head-to-head with him, you know what I'm saying? And you live with Muggles. It's some wonder you were close to beating him, of all people."
Harry stared at the man in perplexity, and Hermione had a faint inspiration that he thought he was slightly mad.
"Where'd you read this?" Harry asked he storeowner, "In the Daily Prophet?"
"Yes indeedy!" said the storeowner happily, "It was all there two weeks ago."
Harry thought for a moment, looking very confused, and Hermione couldn't blame him. Wherever this man found out this stuff, the resource wasn't giving Harry any bad reputation. Hermione painfully remembered Rita Skeeter, the most recent Daily Prophet reporter, who dug up the dirt on Harry, Hagrid, and even Dumbledore. As much as Hermione hated Skeeter's comments of Dumbledore being 'an old crack pot', that wasn't compared to how angry she was about her dozen articles on Harry. In one, she said that her and Harry were more than just friends (while the thought appealed to Hermione), and there was some love triangle with them and Victor Krum. But alas, Rita Skeeter got what was coming to her. Hermione trapped her in a jar.
"Well, thanks for the book," said Harry finally, "We've got to go."
"Good luck on the next task!" called the storeowner as they left the shop. Harry, Ron and Hermione walked a few paces, away from the bookstore, and stopped outside of The Leaky Cauldron.
"We've got to split up," said Ron, gesturing to himself and Harry, "We've got to get our dress robes for the…urgh…ball."
"You'll have enough money, won't you, Harry?" Hermione asked Harry nervously, "I shouldn't have let you buy me that book."
"I've got enough, Hermione," said Harry, while laughing, "We'll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron in thirty minutes, right? See you later."
And they left, leaving Hermione to look around. 'Might as well make the best of it' she thought tiredly, 'what else is there to do?'
Hermione followed the flow of people on the lane, and she caught a glimpse of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions- it was crammed with people. There was no way she was going to get in there, unless she used a levitation spell to float above all the heads, but she'd get in trouble for sure. Where was she going to get her dress? Then Hermione had a small but terrifying thought of the night of the Anika ball, and she traipsed through the doors wearing some appalling costume a vagrant would wear, and Harry was there, a grimace on his perfect face and Ron howling in laughter. This, of course, made Hermione walk faster.
Hermione had never seen another clothing shop in all of Diagon Ally other than Madam Malkin's, but then again, she hadn't seen all of Diagon Alley either. Harry had when he escaped his uncle and aunt, but he wasn't with her.
Hermione's worrying was about to reach its breaking point until she found herself in the other part of Diagon Alley she had never been in. The crowds of people were thinning out and not many people seemed to be in the shops. It was then when she found her store with the sign that shone like a beacon of hope- 'Miss. Marmalade's Fine and Not-So-Fine Robes'.
Hermione rushed there, her purse jingling with the gold she had saved in her purse for her dress. When she got there, she pulled open the door, and almost leapt inside.
It was empty. The walls were covered in robes and dresses and ties of every colour you could imagine. Several stools and chairs sat at the bottom of the opposite wall, but nobody was in them. The only person who occupied the room was a witch who was folding scarves with her back turned on the other side of the room.
"Excuse me," said Hermione quietly, "I'd like a dress robe, please."
The witch turned. Hermione could immediately tell she was young by her pink face and long black hair and that she was Miss. Marmalade. She smiled.
"Of course you do," she said, "Why else would you be here?"
Hermione watched her step behind the marble counter, the beads of her bracelets clinking together.
"What do you have in mind, hon?"
Hermione looked around, but there was nothing she'd like. To her left was some revolting orange robe with bright pink buttons that looked like it was something Silversmith would wear. Maybe he shopped here too? Then there were the normal robes, which looked just as ugly, but Hermione would never admit it to the storeowner.
"Well," started Hermione, "The school I'm visiting, Dryconderoga, is having a ball, and I don't know what to wear. All my friends are at Madam Malkin's, but it's too crowded there."
"Yes," sighed Miss. Marmalade, "It's always been like that," she looked wistfully out the window for a moment, then, as though noticing Hermione was still there, shook her head a little, "Dryconderoga, you say? That's a long ways away."
"We used a portkey," said Hermione quickly, and she walked closer to the counter. She smiled.
"So you're from either Nockdernia or Hogwarts?"
"Hogwarts," said Hermione, "How'd you know?"
"The Daily Prophet," answered the witch cheerfully, "They've got all the Tournament information, you know?"
Hermione thought for a moment. So everyone was reading the Daily Prophet for the Tournament. She made a mental note to herself to tell Harry.
"I'm guessing you wouldn't like anything on the walls, right?" said Miss. Marmalade.
Hermione bit her lip, not knowing what to say. She couldn't come out and say 'no, Miss. Marmalade, you robes are revolting. I'd rather kiss a Hogwart's toilet seat'.
"Oh, dear, you don't have to be so timid!" laughed Miss. Marmalade, "This store's basically holds all the robes for more aged people. I'm not offended!"
Hermione tried not to voice her wretchedness.
"So you don't have anything for me?" she asked remorsefully. Miss. Marmalade, however, clapped her polished hands together in triumph.
"Oh, but I do!" she said secretively, "I've been saving it for a costumer like yourself, being caught in a place you were forced to go to."
Hermione wasn't sure what she was doing, but she watched as Miss. Marmalade turned to a mirror that has hung on the wall behind the register, and swing to one side. At first came the shock that normal mirrors couldn't do that, than the other was that here was a small space behind the frame.
"I've had this beauty for a year now," said Miss. Marmalade as she pulled whatever was in there out. She put the mirror back into its regular position and turned to face Hermione.
In her arms was a dress- the most beautiful dress Hermione had ever seen in her life. It was a sparkling midnight blue gown with straps for the shoulders and attached to it was a matching shawl that shimmered in the light. Hermione beamed as Miss. Marmalade passed her it, acting as though it were invaluable porcelain.
"It's beautiful," gasped Hermione, running her hand over its soft surface. It felt like some sort of silk that was warm to the touch.
"Isn't it?" said Miss. Marmalade fondly, "I haven't shown it to anyone of your age. I've tried with the older folks, but they're more into the plaited robes."
Hermione snapped out of her trance, and asked the question she wasn't sure she wanted an answer to.
"How much is it?"
Miss. Marmalade thought for a moment, saw Hermione eager face, and said, "Well, for such a sweetie like you… fifteen galleons."
Hermione almost screamed in thrill. She had sixteen galleons with her.
"I'll buy it!" she said at once, and dove into her purse to retrieve the gold. She set it on the counter, and Miss. Marmalade rang it up on the register.
"What's you name, anyways?" she asked Hermione as she tucked the gown into a package. Hermione looked up, being too distracted with watching the dress- her dress.
"Oh! Hermione. Hermione Granger," she answered in a hurry. Miss. Marmalade raised her eyebrows.
"Are you really?" she asked with her eyes shinning with anticipation "I read about you in the Daily Prophet last year. About you and Harry Potter."
Hermione went scarlet.
"Was that love triangle true, or was Rita Skeeter just flapping her lips?"
"Harry's one of my best friends," Hermione said quietly, "And Rita Skeeter just made all that stuff up to get some dirt on Harry."
Miss. Marmalade smiled, and Hermione was surprised. She didn't have a hint of doubt in her expression.
"I thought so," she told Hermione as she carefully passed Hermione the finished package of the dress, "I thought she was lying. She's disappeared, did you know that?"
"Oh," said Hermione, fixing her face to what she hoped looked like confusion, "R-really? I never knew that."
"Yes, well, it's a good thing too," said Miss. Marmalade, "I cancelled my subscription, with all her nattering about how 'problematic' Harry Potter was. It sounds like he's doing well this year!"
"He is," said Hermione, who was smiling very widely now, "Thanks very much for the dress! I'll come back when I get another chance!"
And she left with her perfect dress with a light head. This was going to be best ball ever. Parvati and Lavender would never get a dress like this one, thought Hermione cheerfully, and they like Harry… whoa… is that jealousy in my voice?
After a few minutes of walking, Hermione spotted Harry and Ron standing outside of the Leaky Cauldron, Ron looking miserable and Harry looking over the heads of the people who passed him. When she approached, Ron let out an enormous groan, and rounded on her.
"What took you?" he hissed as they walked into the pub, "How many robes were you getting?"
"Just one!" snapped Hermione, holding up her shopping bag, "And did you get your robes?"
Ron wasn't carrying a package, but Harry was. Ron huffed, and sat at an empty table. The Leaky Cauldron was usually very busy, but it seemed that everyone was at Madam Malkin's.
"You did get robes, didn't you Ron?" Hermione asked Ron again as she and Harry sat. Ron's ears went red.
"I remembered Fred and George bought me robes at the beginning of this year," he admitted, "I don't know how they got the money, but they got me the best robes in Diagon Alley. I just remembered them when we walked into the tailor's shop."
Hermione didn't say anything, but inside, she was about to burst. Yes, it was official. Ron was as dense as dense could get. Harry, looking from Hermione to Ron, got up and said- "I'll get drinks, then. If you bicker, it'd keep you quiet."
"That's not necessary," said a feminine voice, "I've got it."
The three of them spun around, and saw none other than Marindernia standing behind Harry. She was carrying four mugs of butterbeer on a tray. As Hermione and Ron watched her with curious eyes, she stepped in front of Harry and set the tray of butterbeers on their table.
"Listen, I want to apologize for how insolent I've been to all of you," said Marindrenia, more to Harry than Hermione and Ron, "I want to make it up to you."
Harry stared at Marindernia's purple eyes for a long moment, as though scanning her for any mistrusts. Then, to Hermione's horror, he smiled, and gestured to their table.
"Thanks," he said, "Do you want to sit down?"
And Marindernia sat beside Ron, who looked temporarily frozen. Yes, thought Hermione in happiness, internally cheering as Harry slide into the seat next to her. Marindernia passed the Butterbeers she brought with her around, one to each of them.
"So, I hear you'd go here every year back at Hogwarts," said Marindernia enthusiastically, and Hermione get the impression that she had never been to anywhere like Diagon Alley in her life, "It must be fascinating, coming here all the time. I wish Nockdernia could do that," she sighed, "But we go to Nelson's Square all the time. Horrible place."
"So you're enjoying it here?" asked Hermione as she sipped her butterbeer. Marindernia smiled very widely, exposing her perfectly straight teeth.
"Oh, yes! I just came back from Madam Malkin's. She's a nice lady, don't you think?"
"Yeah…" mumbled Ron, who had his elbow resting on the table, his misty eyes on her and his forgotten butterbeer sitting on the table in front of him. He looked the same way when he saw Fleur Delacour for the first time, his expression bumbling and pathetic.
"I've been to Flourish and Blotts, the Ice Cream Parlor, Quality Quidditch Supplies," continued Marindernia, counting off her long, polished fingers, "that other place… forgot what it's called… and have you seen the new robes at Madam Malkins?"
She was going on like that for about ten minutes, and Harry and Ron were the only ones listening. Hermione was too busy focusing on anything but Marindernia's rambling and Ron wouldn't have taken his watery gaze off her face if you poured a cauldron full of spiders down his robes. Harry was just nodding, smiling and drinking his butterbeer. That was enough for Hermione.
"Hey, Marindernia, do you know what's up with Whin?" asked Harry, cutting off her talking about the 'fascinating' triple fudge covered chocolate newts, "He hasn't been very…er… pleasant."
Marindernia looked disgusted. Maybe she didn't like Whin much either. Then Hermione thought, who could like Whin?
"Oh! Him," Marindernia told Harry distastefully, "I'm not at all surprised. He is very unkind to me. He could be eaten by one of those vulgar squids, for all I care."
Harry looked surprised, and this time, Ron seemed to snap out of his state. Clearly, the first meeting with Whin was still on his mind.
"Why?" he asked, "What did he do to you?"
Marindernia admired her polished fingernails for a moment, and said, "Well, he did say a few things to me. Just yesterday, he said 'you're slower than my grandparents and their crippled old pooch'. Very unlikely presumption, don't you think?"
Ron looked furious. He thumped his fist on the table, causing a few witches at another table to stare. Harry held up his hand to keep him from saying something stupid.
"Really? He didn't say anything about me, did he?" Harry pressed on, his face eager. Marindernia rolled her eyes.
"Of course! He said all this rubbish about beating some Quidditch record your father held," she said, "And how he's nervous about loosing it, whatever that means."
"Hey! It's almost sundown!" said Ron suddenly, who was looking at his watch. They all stood up, and when they put their empty mugs on the bar, they left the pub with their packages, full and warm.
"I'll see you, Harry!" said Marindernia as she pranced across to her other Nockdernia friends. Harry waved, while steering Ron away from her to the other Hogwarts students huddled around Dumbledore.
"Harry," said Hermione as they fought their way to the portkey, "What did Marindernia mean about Tisroc being nervous about loosing his record?"
Harry shrugged, and gently tugged Hermione towards him (as she wasn't getting anywhere with the crowd pushing her around) to touch the grubby suspenders.
"Dunno. I reckon we'll find out tomorrow."
And they disappeared from the streets of Diagon Alley.
...~'*'~…
A/N: Sorry about that outburst earlier, but you can't be Canadian and not like hockey. Well, I don't like hockey… I LOVE it! Personally, I think Brooks should realize that he needs to pipe down a bit on his Canada hating insults. But, I must admit, I'm glad Team USA acted all calm and collected about getting a silver, which isn't bad at all (heck, we put up with it for years!). While team Canada was celebrating on the ice, back home, everyone was having some sort of heart attack. I actually saw some guy running through a car jam with nothing but a pair of boxers with the Canadian flag on it. Nuts, put patriotic. I heard some guys from a fire station climbed into their fire truck, and zoomed down the streets, siren ands lights blaring when they saw the last of the game. It's that crazy. But their's something to keep in mind, Canadians…
We've finally broken our fifty-year goldless streak!
Oh… sorry *ahem* almost forgot. Do you want proof that Harry and Herm are getting together? Go to this link-- http://www.hindustantimes.com/nonfram/231201/dLFOR15.asp
My love to Pat Quinn (who is the coolest coach), Jarome Iginla (who scored a stupendous goal for Canada), Mike Peca (who scored another… and he's just really cool), Martin Brodeur (because he's the best goal tender on earth), Mario Lemieux (because… you name it!), Team USA (for everything under the sun!) Wayne Gretzky (because he's the one who organized Team Canada in the first place… and he's The Great One!) and, my favorite, the little Canadian toonie that was hidden in the ice for the women's and men's game (hey, it's good luck!) They brought the gold back where it belongs!
Now, if you excuse me, I must wave my Canadian flag around like a maniac with the others (but I'll keep my undies on, thanks…nah!)