Harry Potter & the Dark Lord – Chapter 23
Disclaimer: These
characters belong to JKR and the respective corporations that have bought the
rights.
A/N: KitsuneDream, don't worry; we're
not that close to the end. We
have to make it to June (Hogwarts time), don't we? And Dr. C – who's this Dahl person? Are you saying oompa loompas don't really exist? I just assumed Willy Wonka was a wizard that
liked to live in the Muggle world. I
mean, I've seen Willy Wonka candy. He's not real? :: lip starts
trembling :: Now you've gone and shattered my blissful illusion. OK, enough silliness from me J. Megan T –
Harry will learn something this chapter. And you'll get Sirius in Ch. 24. Here's this chapter's quote (You knew I'd choose this one, didn't
you? It's Valentine's Day! Well, close
enough…©©©)
Losing his head, Harry tried to make a run for it, but
the dwarf seized him around the knees and brought him crashing to the floor.
"Right," he said, sitting on Harry's ankles. "Here is your singing valentine:
His eyes are green as a fresh pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.
I wish he was mine, he's really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord
J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the
Chamber of Secrets
"Harry?"
Harry felt a tap on his shoulder. He pulled the blankets tighter around him, burying his head in
the soft down of the pillow.
"Harry?"
The tapping continued, more forceful this time. It's too early, his sleep-fogged mind
complained. Go away. "Mmmmpph…"
"Harry." The gentle
tapping turned into shaking. "Harry,
wake up."
"Leavemelone..." Harry muttered.
The shaking stopped. Good, they're gone. He
sighed, drifting back into blissful sleep, his mind clouding over once again.
THUMP! Harry woke
with a jolt as he hit the floor, a sharp pain shooting up his spine. He lay on his back stunned for a moment, one
leg on the bed and the other on the floor, still tangled in the sheets. Harry could hazily make out a red blob in
the shape of a head through his blurred vision. He reached over to his bedside cabinet, fumbling around for his
glasses.
"What'd you do that for?" Harry asked irritably, slapping
the spectacles on his face and pulling himself to his feet.
Ron shrugged, the corner of Harry's blanket still gripped
tightly in his fist. "You wouldn't wake
up. Anyway, I need your help."
Faint murmuring could be heard coming from the drawn
curtains of the other boys' four-posters, and Harry wistfully imagined himself
to still be in their position, unconscious to the world. "Well, since I'm awake anyway," he said
sardonically.
Ron grinned. "I
knew you'd understand. Get
dressed. I'll meet you downstairs."
Ten minutes later, Harry made his way down to the common
room fully dressed, finally glancing at his watch. It was working quite well considering it had been underwater for
over an hour during the Second Task of the Tournament last year. Mr. Weasley had repaired it the previous
summer in his workshop, using spare parts from his newly acquired collection of
Muggle timepieces. He had barely been
able to contain his excitement when Harry had agreed to let him have a go at
it.
"Ron, it's just barely past five! This had better be good."
"I told you, I need your help."
Ron had already started to climb through the portrait hole,
waking a very cross Fat Lady, her hair still in rollers ("And just what do
you think you're doing, disrupting my beauty sleep! I've half a mind to change the password while you're out!").
"How about to 'nagging old biddy'?" Ron mumbled as he
passed.
Harry struggled to keep up with his long-legged friend, his
still foggy mind unable to get his own legs to cooperate. He followed Ron mindlessly down flight after
flight of stairs, through endless corridors, not noticing where they were
going, until they finally ended up in front of a picture of a large silver
fruit bowl. Harry immediately
recognized this as the entrance to the kitchens, and he looked at Ron in
confusion.
"What, can't wait for breakfast?"
Ron ignored him, tickling the large green pear and watching
patiently as it tittered and turned into an oversized green doorknob. He grabbed it easily with his large hands
and pulled the door open, walking into the large, eerily quiet kitchen, Harry following
right behind.
Harry pushed his unruly dark hair out of his eyes as he
glanced around the enormous room. The
huge brick fireplace had just been lit, the warmth starting to creep into the
far-reaching corners. House elves were pulling
pots and pans down from the wall and carrying in slabs of bacon and bushels of
potatoes. Harry thought he heard the
cackling of hens in the distance, and soon another elf ran in with an armload
of eggs, feathers flying behind him. The large tables, positioned directly beneath the tables of the Great
Hall, seemed uncommonly bare, not a plate or goblet in sight. The house elves eyed the two boys curiously,
but continued with their tasks when it became apparent that Ron and Harry would
make no request of them. Harry scanned
the room for any sign of Dobby, but he didn't see his favorite house elf.
"So…are you gonna let me know why we're here?" Harry asked,
his voice echoing against the high ceilings.
"I need to learn how to cook by tonight," Ron responded
straightforwardly.
"Why?" Harry asked, gaping. "You have a kitchen full of house elves right here ready and
willing to do it for you."
Ron looked at his friend as if Harry were a bit slow on the
uptake, and answered very deliberately. "Well, if I wanted to have a Valentine's dinner with Hermione, she
wouldn't find it terribly romantic if she knew it'd been prepared by house
elves, would she? Are you going to help
me or not? I don't want to spend the
whole night arguing about spew."
"It's S.P.E.W…" Harry found himself saying automatically,
the product of too many hours spent in the library with Hermione during their
fourth year. He looked at the piles of
pots and pans, and at the large fireplace. There wasn't a burner or stove in sight.
"Well," Harry began, "I'm not sure how much help I can
be. I mean, Aunt Petunia sometimes had
me make breakfast for Dudley, but she usually handled dinner herself. I don't think she'd ever want to admit that
something I made tasted good. Besides,
I don't know how to cook with magic."
Ron's calm exterior began fading and a hint of panic edged
in his voice. "So how am I supposed to
learn?"
"Ginny?" Harry offered, trying hard to seem nonchalant.
"No, she couldn't make a decent meal if her life depended
on it."
Harry thought for a moment. "Why don't you just ask your mum? We can use the fireplace…" he suggested.
Ron shook his head, his ears beginning to burn. "She'll ask why…"
Harry eyed his friend skeptically. "Do you mean to say you haven't told her? You haven't, have you?"
"No," Ron said miserably. "I mean, I will eventually, but she gets so gooey about that
stuff. I reckon she'd ask Hermione to
start calling her 'mum'. I figured I'd
wait 'til the summer, so I have a chance to prepare Hermione, and at least I'll
be home to keep my mum from doing anything too embarrassing."
"Do you really think she'll be that bad?" Harry asked,
still unsure.
Ron nodded glumly. "She
sent Penelope my grandmother's wedding ring when she found out she and Percy
were dating. Angelina got a Weasley
scarf monogrammed with A.W. after Fred took her to the Yule Ball. And it'll be worse with Hermione, because
she's known her for so long. I can't
imagine her finding out on Valentine's Day," – Ron gave an involuntary shudder
– "Mum'll probably want to come over and wait on us all night."
"Well, that'd at least take care of the house elf problem,"
Harry grinned.
Ron ignored him, continuing his outburst with a perfect
impression of his mother. " 'I've
always known you two fancied each other, from the first moment I laid eyes on
you. You're the older sister I've
always wanted for dear little Ginny.' No, thanks. And I wouldn't find
this so funny if I were you, Harry. I
can't imagine how she'd react if you ever get the guts to ask Ginny out. She'd go completely mad with joy. Mum's ready to adopt you as it is."
Harry's grin disappeared, and he felt his face growing
warmer. "I, er, well…"
Luckily for Harry, Ron didn't seem to be in a mood to
discuss his friend's foot-dragging in the romance department. "So what should I do?" he asked again,
looking distraught. "I tried asking the
house elves to teach me how to cook the other day, but they just kept on giving
me food."
"Well, did you try Dobby?" Harry asked, thinking it the
obvious solution.
Ron looked up hopefully. "Do you think he will? It was
his day off when I last came."
Harry walked over to a female house elf that had been
watching Ron. She immediately came to
attention when she noticed Harry approaching and dropped into a deep curtsey.
"Er, excuse me," Harry began. "Do you know where Dobby is?"
"Yes, sir," the house elf began in a high screechy voice
that Harry would've sworn could break glass. The glasses in the kitchen must be enchanted so as not to break, Harry thought. "Dobby is checking on the fire. Villy will fetch him right away for Harry
Potter."
"Are you Villy?" Ron asked the house elf, who was now looking
up at him, adoration evident in her large bright brown eyes.
"Yes, sir," Villy responded. "You are Ron Weasley, brave and loyal friend of Harry
Potter. Dobby has told us much about
your greatness. Villy would be honored
to serve you in any way."
With that, the young house elf disappeared with a loud
crack. Harry grinned at Ron. "I'm sure Villy would be more than happy to
teach you how to cook."
Before Ron could respond, Villy had reappeared with Dobby
and another house elf at her side. Harry immediately recognized the third house elf as Dobby's father. The two elves shared the same outsized green
eyes, and their faces were identical, the only differences being that the elder
house elf was slightly more wrinkled and a tad shorter than his son.
"Harry Potter has come to visit Dobby at last!" Dobby said
ecstatically. He then took a more
serious tone. "May Dobby have the honor
of introducing Nimby?"
The elder house elf stepped forward and bowed low, and
Harry offered his hand. "It's very nice
to finally meet you Nimby. Dobby's told
me so much about you."
"Harry Potter is as kind and good as Nimby has heard," Dobby's
father stated humbly. "And Ron Weasley,
Harry Potter's great friend. How can
Nimby be of service?"
"Er, nice to meet you," Ron said. "Actually, there is something I need help with. Can either of you teach me how to cook?"
"Ron Weasley is lucky indeed," Dobby intoned. "Villy is the finest cook of all our
number! Villy will cook anything you
desire." Dobby motioned to the young
house elf, who seemed embarrassed at his praise.
"Villy would be proud to cook for the great Ron Weasley," the
female offered in her high voice, eyes glassy. "Ron Weasley's great deeds in the fight against You-Know-Who are well
known and esteemed."
"Er, no, I don't need you to cook for me. I need to learn to cook myself," Ron explained. It was obvious that Ron was going to have quite a task ahead of him convincing a house elf to let him do the cooking, so Harry took Dobby aside. Out of everyone's earshot, Dobby listened raptly to Harry, nodding in understanding. Dobby then took Villy aside and spoke to her earnestly. Villy looked hesitant at first, but after taking one look at Ron's hopeful face, nodded and stepped forward.
"Villy would be honored and privileged to teach the great Ron Weasley how to cook, if it pleases him."
"Thanks, Villy," Ron grinned. "And you don't have to call me 'the great Ron Weasley'. I mean, it's true and all, but Ron'll do just fine."
"Yes, Ron," Villy answered, clutching her tea towel nervously. She rushed to gather the tools she would need for Ron's cooking lesson.
"Blimey, Harry, how did you do that?" Ron asked, his ears
still red from Villy's praise, or perhaps in pain from her voice.
Harry smirked. "Oh,
I just explained to Dobby how you're desperately in love in Hermione and'll do anything
to win her heart." He was enjoying the
look of horror that was washing over Ron's face. "Then I added that Hermione was very attracted to men that
cooked, and that you had to learn immediately or you'd would lose any
chance of getting the girl of your dreams. Of course, Dobby didn't want that to happen at all."
"You didn't." Ron's
freckles stood out sharply against his now pallid skin.
Harry smiled, debating whether to let Ron go on believing
his tale. The green tinge creeping on
the edges of his friend's face changed his mind. Harry laughed, "I can't believe you bought that rubbish!"
Ron visibly relaxed, the color returning slowly to his
face. "So how did you convince him
then? I couldn't getting anywhere with
any of the other house elves."
"Well, Dobby isn't quite your typical house elf. I just told him it was part of a secret
project Dumbledore's working on," Harry explained, shrugging. He noticed Villy making her way back towards
them, struggling under the weight of a super-sized cauldron – its bottom was
certainly thick enough to satisfy even Percy – and a bounty of fresh
vegetables. "Well," Harry said,
clapping his friend on the back. "I
guess it's time I left you to your lesson…"
Harry managed to get in another couple of hours of sleep
before having to reawaken for classes. Ron didn't turn up at breakfast, and his best friend was having a hard
time warding off Hermione's questions as to the whereabouts of her significant
other. Ginny cottoned on rather
quickly, sniggering quietly every time Harry avoided one of Hermione's queries.
"Where is he?" Hermione asked for the umpteenth
time. "He's going to be late for
Potions. Are you absolutely certain he
hasn't overslept?"
"Oh, no," Harry responded casually. "He was up very early this morning."
Hermione sighed, resting her chin in her hand wearily as
she kept her eyes locked on the entrance to the Great Hall. "You would've thought he might actually be
looking forward to seeing me today of all days."
Harry softened a bit at Hermione's defeated
expression. "Hermione, I'm sure he had
something very important to do."
Hermione sat pensively for a moment, and then bolted
upright, her mind apparently made up. "Yes, I'm sure it's very important," she said, although her tone implied
she didn't think it was important at all. "But if he expects me to loll around waiting for him to appear, he's got
another thing coming."
Clearly miffed, Hermione gathered her books and stood up,
taking care to adjust her prefect's badge. Harry sat silently, distinctly wondering whether he had just gotten Ron
into a spot of trouble. He was weighing
all the possible excuses he could give for his best friend when Hermione spoke
again.
"I have to go patrol the corridors now; class will start
soon. If Ron ever decides to grace us
with his presence, tell him – tell him... Oh, never mind! I have nothing
to say to that boy!"
Hermione turned on her heel, practically running into an
approaching Draco Malfoy. His eyes
narrowed as he deftly stepped aside to avoid being knocked over. "Someone giving away extra credit, Mud…"
"Oh, just sod off, Malfoy!" Hermione yelled, as she
disappeared through the doors.
Harry and Ginny looked at each other, dumbstruck. "Maybe I'd better go after her," Ginny
suggested quietly. Harry nodded,
watching Ginny leave as he gathered his books slowly and headed down to the
dungeons by himself.
It was still early when Harry arrived in the Potions
classroom, and neither Ron nor Hermione had made it down yet. Harry settled himself behind his cauldron
and began systematically laying out all his potions ingredients. The classroom slowly started filling up, but
still there was no sign of his friends. Harry was methodically rearranging a pile of beetle eyes into rows of
ten across when Ron finally appeared, flustered and disheveled.
"Er, you have a bit of parsley in your hair," Harry noted,
grinning. The greenery combined with
Ron's red hair gave new meaning to the term 'carrot top'. Ron scowled and ran his fingers roughly
through his flaming tresses, leaving it in complete disarray.
"Where's Hermione?" he asked, knocking Harry's carefully
arranged beetle eyes to the floor as he dropped his books.
"Er, prefect duty," Harry answered, keeping his voice
neutral and silently praying that Hermione would have calmed down since he last
saw her. "So, are you ready for
tonight?"
Ron nodded nervously. "I think so," he said solemnly. "It's not so hard, really. All
in the flick of the wrist." Ron
demonstrated his new talents with his wand, making the beaker of water sitting
in front of him start bubbling.
"Where exactly are you going to have this dinner?" Harry
asked, the question just occurring to him.
"Actually, that reminds me – I've got a booking from Fred
and George, but I need your help getting Hermione there."
Harry stared at his friend, baffled. "Er, a booking? For what?"
"For an empty classroom, of course," Ron replied
directly. "You know – Fred and George
do it every year. They charge a galleon
to book the room, and they pay some second years to keep watch so you don't get
caught."
"Ah," Harry said dumbly. He had apparently not been paying close enough attention to the actions
of his best friend's two older brothers. He had noticed them whispering to each other quite often lately,
but he just assumed it had to do with the joke shop they were planning.
"Well, I've booked the classroom just down the corridor and
around the corner from Charms," Ron continued. "I've got to prepare dinner, so I'll need you to get Hermione there by
eight o'clock. Only I want it to be a
surprise, so tell her you're going to the library or something. It's on the way. And don't let her have dinner first – don't want her spoiling her
appetite, of course…"
Ron clammed up as he saw the subject of his scheming storm
into the classroom. Hermione slowed when
she saw the two boys, narrowing her eyes before turning her face away. She didn't sit in her usual spot by Ron,
instead walking over to Harry's other side. She dropped her spellbooks on the desk noisily and sat down in a huff,
immediately burying her nose in her notes. Ron's face turned slightly ashen as the implications of her demeanor
sunk in.
"All right, Hermione?" he offered, his voice quivering
slightly. Hermione grunted in reply,
barely lifting her face from the parchment.
Harry laughed nervously, trying to break the tension building
on either side of him. "Those first
years give you a hard time out there?"
"Stupid little sprogs – you'd think they were enchanted the
way they run about," Hermione said, not looking up from her notes. Harry inched a bit further away from the
seething witch, watching her cautiously. He was spared her wrath by the bell signaling the start of class. Professor Snape glided in from his office,
his face sallow and disagreeable as ever.
"A point from Gryffindor," Snape said smoothly, eying the
beetle eyes scattered around Harry's feet. Harry flushed with anger as he tried to push the beetle eyes under his
seat and out of sight, but he bit his tongue as the potions master immediately
began the lesson.
Harry found it increasingly difficult to concentrate as
Snape's class progressed, on account of Ron constantly leaning around him in an
attempt to get Hermione's attention. Hermione duly ignored the boy, paying close attention to the
lesson. She raised her hand in a vain
attempt to answer Snape's question.
"Please Professor, the Sumbionus Potion intensifies the
effects of a spell or charm cast by anyone who takes it. However, it can be extremely dangerous if
not prepared precisely. One drop more
or less of any ingredient will render it instantly fatal to the drinker." Hermione rushed the words out as if to
complete her thought before Snape could interrupt her.
"Correct, Miss Granger," the professor said icily. "Five points from Gryffindor for speaking
out of turn."
"That's not very fair," Ron said loudly. "You shouldn't take points away just because
Hermione is the smartest student you've ever had and she's in
Gryffindor," Ron finished unflinchingly.
Hermione faltered for a moment, her expression softening as
she searched her boyfriend's defiant eyes.
"Make that ten points for the cheeky remark," Snape
continued without missing a beat, his eyes flashing furiously even as his face
remained expressionless. The Slytherins
in the classroom chuckled in appreciation, and Harry could hear Malfoy's
piercing laugh above the others. "As
Miss Granger noted in her embarrassing display of conceitedness, only the best
trained wizards can be trusted to mix this potion accurately, so it is very
rarely seen. Needless to say, I
wouldn't expect any of you to do it properly, and as the Ministry wouldn't want
students dropping dead left and right, you shall only observe as I
demonstrate…"
Ignoring Snape's jabs, Hermione thawed out noticeably after
that, which relieved Harry considerably. However, he didn't find it very amusing when Ron reached across Harry's
lap to take Hermione's hand. As much as
Harry tried to ignore the intertwined fingers and the arms hanging inches from
his waist, it was impossible to avoid.
"Do you mind?" he hissed, startling Ron into letting
go. Snape's eyes darted over to the
small commotion, and he was about to say something, no doubt highly unpleasant,
when the bell again mercifully sounded throughout the dungeons, indicating the
end of the class. Harry let out a grateful
sigh, quickly gathering his things and rushing out into the corridor.
"What luck!" Harry began to say, when Malfoy very purposely
bumped into him. Harry's smile quickly
disappeared as he saw Malfoy's pointed face, looking as if he had swallowed a canary.
"I'd say you lucked out, too," Malfoy said spitefully. "Not that Snape doesn't hate you – that just
comes naturally with you – but if I were him, I wouldn't let you get away so
easily. Not after knowing what your
father's responsible for…"
Hermione stopped abruptly, hands on hips, her face a mask
of fury. "Just stop it!" she
yelled. Malfoy, caught by surprise, had
just regained his composure when Hermione stepped closer to him, pulling out
her wand. She pointed the weapon at his
chest, the tip pressing against the cool, crisp black fabric of his impeccably
pressed everyday robes.
"Hermione," Ron whispered nearly inaudibly, his expression a mixture of astonishment and admiration. Both he and Harry watched with bated breath, neither making any move to intervene. Crabbe and Goyle stood with stupid expressions on their faces, too confused to do anything.
"I've had just about enough of your insinuations. If you actually know something about Harry's
father – and I highly doubt that you do – then out with it! Say what you're obviously dying to tell us,
rather than sneaking around like a slimy snake!"
Malfoy gulped. He
straightened his spine and held his chin out, looking down on the bushy-haired
girl in indignation. His pale gray eyes
however, betrayed his fear, twitching nervously from Hermione's face to the
wand. "You wouldn't dare. My father…"
"HA!" Hermione laughed shrilly, digging the wand deeper
into the Slytherin's chest. "Try
me. Your father is as bad as you are,
brave only behind a mask, afraid and hiding all those years while Voldemort was
gone." Hermione looked triumphant as
she perceived Malfoy flinching slightly at Voldemort's name. She continued, her eyes narrowed and her
voice dangerously low. "I am perfectly
serious, Draco Malfoy. I wouldn't test
me if I were you. Now tell us what you
know or I'll change you into a ferret. I think most of us rather preferred you that way."
Malfoy finally succumbed, his normally pale face
unnaturally white. "Fine," he said,
relaxing as Hermione stepped away. She
took the wand away from his chest, but didn't put it away, still keeping it
carefully pointed at him. Malfoy
however, now had a peculiar expression on his face, as if he were relishing
what was about to happen. "I was
planning on telling you anyhow. In
fact, I reckon I'll enjoy this."
He took half a step back, partially shielded by Crabbe's
wide body. "When I heard you talking
about visiting Snape over Christmas, I decided to write my father. He told me a very interesting story. I can't imagine you'd want to know about it,
but seeing as you insist…"
"Out with it, Malfoy!" Ron sneered. Harry stood silently, his fists clenched at
his sides, every muscle tense with anticipation.
Malfoy's smile widened as he stared at Harry. "Well, it seems your dear old dad was
working on some mission for Dumbledore that went horribly wrong," Draco
said in a falsely sympathetic tone. "He
was discovered by the Dark Lord's followers and tried to stun them…"
"Death Eaters," Ron muttered. "You sure seem to know quite a bit about their actions, eh,
Malfoy?"
"There's no shame in being on the winning side," Malfoy
stated, lifting his head higher even as his pallid cheeks reddened. "But if you don't want to hear the rest…"
"Continue," Harry said more strongly than he felt. His head was pounding and his pulse was
racing, but he had to hear the rest.
"Well, for some reason, instead of just stunning, the spell
killed the Death Eaters. No one knew
how he did it – even he was shocked from what I've heard. Three of our number died that day, all at
the hand of your father."
"Not bloody likely," Ron countered. "We would've heard about that. Besides, what does any of that have to do
with Snape?"
"Didn't I mention it?" Draco asked, clearly enjoying every
moment now. "One of those poor dead
Death Eaters was Snape's mum. Everyone's so sympathetic to poor, orphaned Harry Potter – it's no
wonder it sickens Snape considering your dad made him an orphan."
Ron lunged at the Slytherin, only to be held back by Hermione, who had suddenly realized they were late for Defense Against Dark Arts. Harry couldn't move. He felt as if he had no control over his body – his legs were planted to the ground and his mind was swirling into oblivion. He barely noticed Malfoy walking away, beaming with pleasure, his bodyguards behind him. He was brought back to earth by Ron's wand shooting sparks in front of his face.
"Harry, are you okay?" Ron asked, peering anxiously into Harry's eyes. Harry nodded numbly.
"It's a lie," Hermione exclaimed. "I've read through all the newspaper clippings. There was nothing in there about anything
like that at all!"
"Well, we'd better get to class. We're already late," Ron said in an attempt to distract Harry
from what he had just heard.
"You go ahead," Harry answered distractedly. "I've got to do something."
"You can't just miss class!" Hermione admonished. But Harry had already started to walk down
the corridor, in the opposite direction of the classroom. He distantly heard Ron call out to him, and
Hermione advising him to let Harry be.
Harry walked determinedly towards the headmaster's
quarters. He was dead-set on
confronting Dumbledore with Draco's story, and demanding to know the
truth. As he was rushing along in this
single-minded manner, he failed to notice a small creature cross his path until
he heard a loud screech. Harry looked
down, noticing he was standing on Mrs. Norris's tail. Stepping aside, he groaned as he heard a familiar cackle.
"I'm coming my sweet," Mr. Filch yelled. He turned the corridor and froze for a
second as he saw Harry standing there. Mrs. Norris seemed to have recovered and walked toward her master,
looking reproachfully at Harry as she left. Mr. Filch grabbed the cat, cradling her lovingly in his arms as he
looked at Harry distastefully. "What
have you done to my baby? Why aren't
you in class? This will mean a detention for you, perhaps two!"
"I need to see to Professor Dumbledore," Harry stated
plainly.
"Likely story," Mr. Filch snorted. The question did however distract him from
the excitement of handing out detentions. Seemingly proud to know something that Harry didn't, Filch spoke
eagerly. "The headmaster isn't at
Hogwarts right now. He was called away
on personal matters and isn't expected back until tonight."
Harry sighed, fed up and discouraged. His scar still hurt, he was tired, and he was
frustrated. He turned to walk away,
ignoring the Squib's shouts after him, not caring about his punishment.
"Just where do you think you're going…I'm still talking to
you! Get back here!"
But Harry kept on walking, increasing his pace; he now was
headed to the owlery. Hedwig flew to
him excitedly, resting on his outstretched arm, cooing affectionately. Harry felt a pang of guilt – he had overlooked
his pet of late, not visiting as often as he should.
"All right, Hedwig? How're doing? Sorry I haven't
been by," Harry whispered, the weight of the snowy owl on his arm having a
calming effect on him. Hedwig nipped
his ear playfully in response, apparently forgiving Harry for his neglect. The boy searched his pockets for a scrap of
food, finding only a half eaten pumpkin pasty. His owl accepted the offering gratefully.
"I need you to get a message to Sirius for me. Can you find him really quick? It's kind of
important," Harry explained.
Hedwig cooed and flew to a perch, as Harry struggled to
find a spot on the wall to write his letter. He slipped on the droppings covering the owlery floor more than once,
barely catching himself before he fell. Writing the note was a chore in and of itself, the ink dripping down the
parchment as Harry attempted to write vertically. He crumpled his fifth attempt, stuffing it into his bag, as he
changed his mind about what he wanted to write yet again. Finally he settled on a short, direct note.
Dear Sirius,
I hope you're well. Draco Malfoy told me
that my dad killed three Death Eaters, including Professor Snape's mother. I know not to believe anything that git
says, but I have to hear the truth from someone I trust. Please write back as soon as you can. I need to know.
Harry
Harry read it over. It was rather blunt, but he couldn't figure out any other way of
asking. He took a deep breath and
nodded to Hedwig, who flew over and waited patiently as he tied on the note. The bird flew away purposefully, and Harry
stood at the window, watching until Hedwig was nothing more than a white speck
in the horizon.
Ron and Hermione found Harry in the common room when they
returned after classes were done. He
hadn't bothered to go back to class at all, instead spending the afternoon
staring out at the Hogwarts' grounds from the window, lost in his
thoughts. Harry barely noticed when his
two friends had returned, sitting silently rubbing his scar.
"There you are! You
had me worried," Hermione gushed. Ron
was pale and nervous, glancing meaningfully at Harry and then at Hermione. Harry looked at his watch – it was nearly
six.
"Er, Ron…Fred and George need to see you. They're in the Great Hall trying to set up a
new practice schedule. I've already
spoken to them," Harry said quickly. Ron nodded and turned to head back out the portrait hole.
"I'll walk down with you," Hermione said. "I'm a bit hungry
anyhow."
Ron's eyes bulged as he looked at Harry desperately. Harry said hurriedly, "Er, actually
Hermione, I was hoping you could help me."
Hermione stopped, waiting expectantly. "Help with what?" she asked when Harry
didn't speak. Harry blurted out the
first thing that came to his mind.
"Er, I need your help writing a, a Valentine's Day card,"
Harry stuttered. "For Ginny," he added
when he noticed Hermione staring at him strangely. She broke into a grin at this, immediately forgetting any thought
of food.
"Well, I'll see you in a bit," Ron shouted over his
shoulder, as he scampered out to begin cooking before Hermione could change her
mind.
"Harry, I'm so glad you decided to do something! Ginny was sure you wouldn't!" Hermione smiled warmly as she settled
herself in front of the fire, putting down her overflowing bag.
"You, you talk about this stuff?" Harry asked
nervously. He reflected wildly on all
the crazy thoughts that had run through his mind about Ginny, and blushed at
the thought of Hermione hearing about them if they ever were to happen.
"Well, don't you talk to Ron?" Hermione asked innocently.
"No," Harry said blankly. He usually knew what was going on in his friend's life – like his plans
for that night, for instance – but they didn't usually sit around discussing
their feelings, or what Ron and Hermione did when they were alone. Not that he wanted to know, thought Harry,
shuddering involuntarily.
"Well, let's get started," Hermione said briskly. "What do you want to say?"
"Er" Harry drew a blank. "Isn't that what you're supposed to help me with?"
Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Well, what do you think about her?"
Harry swallowed anxiously. It was very awkward discussing this with anyone, let alone Hermione, who
was probably Ginny's best friend.
"I used to think of her as Ron's little sister," he said,
trying to straighten the jumble of thoughts in his head. "But now…I don't know – I just think of her
as Ginny."
To Harry's pleasant surprise, Hermione appeared to be
satisfied with this response. Her smile
returned, and she seemed rather pleased. Harry watched incredulously as she bent over her bag and began pulling
out sheets of pink parchment that seemed to sparkle in the firelight. She
followed with bottles of unusually colored inks – another shade of pink, a very
metallic looking silver, and a glittery one in a rainbow hue.
"Which do you want?" Hermione asked. Harry looked on in horror. Everything seemed so feminine; he
couldn't imagine using any of it. He
was spared the anguish of having to use the colorful supplies by the appearance
of Ginny herself.
"Hermione! That's
so pretty! Are you making a card for
Ron?" the younger girl asked. Her
cheeks were flushed from the cold and her nose and ears were bright red,
apparently just coming in from outdoors.
"She was just putting it away," Harry said hastily. "Where were you?"
Hermione obliged Harry and packed the materials away, as
Ginny carefully avoided Harry's piercing stare.
"I forgot a book in the greenhouse during Herbology this
morning. Professor McGonagall gave me
permission to go get it," Ginny explained, becoming very interested in her
mittens.
"I'm glad you're here, Ginny," Hermione said, changing the
subject. "There's something I want to
talk to both of you about."
Hermione waited as Ginny removed her cloak and sat
down. Harry watched the older of the
two girls uneasily. Her face was
glowing and her eyes had the same glint that appeared when she was very
passionate about something, like S.P.E.W. Harry prayed he and Ginny weren't her newest cause.
"Something came to me in Defense Against Dark Arts," she
began. "Remember back in September when
we learned how to create a shield against minor curses and hexes?" She looked at Harry, waiting for him to nod
before continuing. "Well, what if we
used the Sumbionus Potion in conjunction with that spell? We might be able to use it to protect
ourselves against even stronger curses. I figured it could be very helpful considering…"
She left the last part unspoken. No one needed to be told that with Voldemort growing stronger all
the time, any defenses available needed to be used.
"What does the potion do?" Ginny asked. Hermione quickly explained what she had
learned; Ginny was already familiar with the shield charms from her father and
older brothers, although she hadn't learned how to use them yet. "I'll be so behind," she said mournfully.
"Not really," Hermione answered, blushing slightly. "I've actually had a hard time with the
shield charms myself. Ron and Harry
were really good at it though."
Harry smiled, remembering Hermione's distress at the start
of the school year when she was unable to create even the weakest shield. Ron had gloated mercilessly.
Hermione continued, "I've already spoken to Ron about it
and he agrees it's something we should do. We spoke to Professor Figg after class," she eyed Harry disapprovingly
for skipping it, "and she agreed to help me practice. She'll help you too, Ginny."
"And the potion," Harry asked. "Snape said hardly anyone could make it without having it
turn out deadly. Do you really think we
can?"
"Professor Figg said she'll talk to Professor Fletcher for
us," Hermione answered, smiling. She
had apparently thought this through. "He's supposed to be nearly as good as Snape, and if not, he can swipe
some of the potion Snape made in class."
Ginny screwed up her face in concentration, biting her
lip. "What if they think of the same
thing? I mean, Snape is pretending to
be a Death Eater. What if they find out
from him?" She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. "What if they make the Unforgivable Curses
even stronger?"
"We can only hope they won't," Hermione said, her smile
fading. "But even if they do, at least
we'll be on equal footing."
They sat discussing the plans for a while, and Harry soon
began showing Ginny and Hermione how to conjure shield charms. Ginny came up with a decent, albeit weak,
shield after an hour of practice, and even Hermione seemed to start getting
over her mental block about them, although her shields were still shaky.
Noticing the time, Harry jumped. He had only five minutes to get Hermione to the classroom where
Ron was waiting.
"How about we go to the library and do a little research on
this," Harry suggested. "We should go
now so we can get some studying in before it closes."
Hermione looked at the time for the first time and
frowned. "Goodness, it has
gotten late. Where's Ron? Shouldn't he be back by now? He promised we'd see each other tonight…"
"I'm sure he'll turn up," Harry said, trying to usher her
out of the common room. "Let's just
head to the library and see if we find him on the way."
"I suppose," Hermione answered, looking around the common
room uneasily, as if she may have missed her boyfriend hiding in a corner. Harry finally managed to get her to leave
and he tried to hurry her down the hall. He noticed Ginny had come along, thinking they were going to the
library; he hoped Ron wouldn't mind. After all, he only had to get her there.
Making incredible time, Harry had nearly reached the right
classroom only a few minutes behind schedule. Hermione seemed confused when he reached for the doorknob.
"Why are we stopping…" her words were cut off when Harry
opened the door. A banner was floating
in mid-air just inside the classroom, and heart-shaped sparkles were shooting
out of it. "Welcome to Ron's Café,"
the banner read. The words faded away,
to be replaced with, "This is a House-Elf-Free zone. All food and service is provided by our
great and talented master chef and proprietor, Ron Weasley." Hermione shrieked with delight, hugging
Ginny who was beaming with equal joy. The banner floated out of the way to reveal a slightly disheveled but
very happy looking Ron. The professor's
desk in the classroom was converted to a dinner table, covered in a white
tablecloth and set with a scrumptious looking meal. A single rose lay on one of the chairs.
Harry stepped out of the way as Hermione rushed in, letting
go of Ginny and throwing herself at the girl's older brother. Ron didn't have time to react and was nearly
knocked over by Hermione's overly enthusiastic hug. "Everything's brilliant," she whispered. They gazed into each other's eyes, Hermione
tilting her head back. Harry shut the
door just as Ron leaned in to give his girlfriend a long, slow kiss.
Now that his mission was accomplished, Harry let out a sigh
of relief. He turned and saw Ginny
staring at the closed door, a dreamy expression on her face. Gently taking her by the elbow, he steered
her away from the classroom. They
walked through the corridor silently, passing a younger boy standing watch a
couple of hundred yards away.
Neither Harry nor Ginny had said a word by the time they
reached the portrait hole. The Fat Lady
was indulging in a very large heart-shaped box of chocolates, which Sir Cadogan
was happily feeding to her. The two
sweethearts were oblivious to the students standing in front of their picture,
timidly looking down at the floor. Harry finally lifted his head, only to get a lovely view of Ginny's red
hair, which was completely obscuring her face.
"Er, Ginny?"
Ginny looked up at the sound of his voice, and the face
that set Golden Snitches loose in Harry's stomach reappeared through the red
curtain of hair. She watched him
anxiously, not making a sound.
"Happy Valentine's Day," Harry said, hoping against hope
that his face didn't look as hot as it felt. "I, er, I wanted to do something, but…"
Ginny gave him a small but genuine smile. "You don't have
to do anything," she replied truthfully. "I'm just glad you're here."
Harry returned the smile. He was pleased, yet his hands were still clammy and his chest was
unusually tight. "Shall we head in?"
Harry asked, putting a hand at the small of Ginny's back. Just that tiny, barely-there touch sent
shockwaves through him and Harry took a deep breath to calm himself.
"Ah, Harry!"
Both Harry and Ginny spun around to see Professor
Dumbledore approaching. The headmaster
had a twinkle in his eye as he observed Harry's hand still on the younger
girl's back. Harry, sensing the gaze,
dropped his hand as if it were on fire, his cheeks burning hotter still.
"I hope I didn't interrupt anything," Professor Dumbledore
said, a small smile threatening to break free.
"No sir," Harry answered.
"Is anything wrong?" Ginny asked apprehensively.
"Everything is fine, Miss Weasley. Have no fear," Dumbledore assured. Turning to Harry, he added, "However, I was
meeting with your adoptive father when he received a rather interesting
letter."
Harry's insides turned cold. Dumbledore smiled warmly at him and continued. "Harry, I think you are old enough to learn
a bit more about your parents. At the
very least you deserve an explanation for what you've heard. Sirius and Remus are waiting in my office if
you care to join us." Harry looked at
Ginny, unsure of what to do. "You may
bring Miss Weasley along if you wish," Dumbledore added.
Harry nodded, following the headmaster to his office with
Ginny at his side. He struggled to
contain all the conflicting emotions inside him. He was finally going to get ask the questions he had been
wondering about, he thought. He only
hoped that he could handle the answers.
A/N: A belated thanks to Brian (my li'l sister's b/f) for telling me about
manticores, as I certainly knew nothing of them. "Master Chef Ron" was inspired by "Pie Making Ron" in Zsenya's Muggle
Summer and "Ron the Bread Master" in Jen's Either Way. Both are excellent fics and the two of you
who haven't read them (Where have you been? Trapped in the forbidden forest?), go do it.
I really appreciate all of
you that have taken the time to read this (and to review of course J). You make
me smile with your sweet words and the lovely e-mails asking when the next
chapter is coming out – thank you for caring! You deserve a medal (gold I guess, but I prefer platinum) for sticking
with this very long fic. Hugs and kisses
to all from Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione! xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
OK,
one last thing…you must listen to "Ode
to Harry Potter" by Switchblade Kittens. Go to their website to listen and read about it. I must thank Louise (thank you, thank you,
thank you!!!), for bringing this gem to light at SugarQuill.com. I just got so excited when I heard this that
I had to share it. An actual H/G song
(from Ginny's POV) by a real band! And
with music I like – what could be better? (An R/H and H/G ending to the books,
that's what!) And so another abnormally
long author note ends. Until next time…