Chapter 3: To Plunge a Mockingbird
"When does Quidditch start?" Ron was clearly eager as he brought the subject up over dinner. "I can't wait this year – Charlie came back and he's been coaching me."
"But what about me?" Harry's face fell. "Umbridge banned me."
"I would not worry about it if I were you," Professor McGonagal was standing right behind Harry, which made everybody jump.
"Professor…"
"As you know, Professor Umbridge has been sack…sorry, outvoted, and has left the Ministry of Magic. So any regulations she set in place have now been declared invalid."
Harry felt glad that Professor McGonagal was standing there to prevent him from leaping and strangling Malfoy, who was within range, with his joy.
"Oh – I forgot to tell you all – Dad – he's the school supervisor now!"
"You forgot to tell us?"
"Well, we're trying to keep it quiet – you know…Dad's…"
"Reputation," Harry finished.
"Yeah…and a lot of people don't agree, and so he's lying low at the moment."
Harry was distracted by Draco Malfoy striding across the corner of his eye. Walking next to him was Pansy Parkinson…no…wait…
"What's Stella-Hermione doing with Draco Malfoy?"
Harry choked on a piece of bread, and he spun around in his chair, falling out of it. Ron caught the chair, but let Harry crumple onto the floor.
"Are you all right, mate?" Ron asked in shock.
"Stella-Hermione…was she…"
"I don't understand what you're babbling about. Perhaps Professor Snape was right – you do deserve a dose of potion."
"But she…" Harry broke off, looking where she had been a moment ago.
"Ron's right – that girl is not someone strange, but something strange! Harry – you've got to keep away from her! She'll cast something on you – I don't know what at the moment – it could be some kind of mental curse – oh, be careful, Harry!"
The three of them were working on Atlantis essays for History of Magic. Harry threw down his quill, afeeling utterly outraged. "Look, Hermione, you're only jealous of her because you've been the star of Hogwarts for five years and now you don't want to give you your position!" Harry prepared to storm off and down to the quidditch pitch alone. He had already picked up his Firebolt from Professor McGonagal.
"But Harry – she's playing on your mind – it's not a good idea to mess with her – you even said she's…"
"Fraternising with Draco Malfoy? Well, I must have imagined it. It's not possible, I mean, Draco wouldn't associate with girls like her – he's so attached to Pansy."
"Harry, you have to watch out for her! What if she's Umbridge's messenger or something? Look at her – she's running around changing Hogwarts. She's brought a piano. She's brought music lessons. She's going to skate on the lake when it freezes this winter. And have you ever seen that stationery of hers?"
"No," Harry replied. "Why?"
"She cuts her parchment into little pieces and punches holes in them to put them in muggle folders. And holographic ones at that, with her picture – what an egoist."
"So?"
"Well, isn't it easier to cheat the length? I mean, there's always a bit that gives when you cut it."
"It's just another way of organising work, and you're jealous just because it's better than yours."
"Excuse me, Harry, but I am perfectly satisfied with my system of rolled parchment."
"Won't you give her a break? She's a child, she's younger than all of us put together!"
"Well, why do you care so much about her? You're always defending her."
"I thought you got over Cho!"
"She has nothing to do with Cho."
"Oh yeah – she's her sister."
"They're practically divorced!"
"The word isn't 'divorced', Harry, it's disowned."
"Let's get out of here – I'm going to the pitch now."
"Ron, there's forty-five minutes!"
"So what? Nobody's going to be there at this hour."
Surprise, surprise – the pitch was not deserted, as Ron had believed before, but the Ravenclaw team appeared to be doing a practice. On closer inspection, however, it appeared to be only two people – Cho and her sister.
"Cho!" Harry cried out instinctively. She turned around and strode off the pitch. Harry dropped his broomstick and ran after her, but Ron stopped him.
"Do you want Hermione to have another excuse, mate?"
"Another excuse to what?"
"To accuse you of…with Stella-Hermione Chang!"
"Why have you started calling me mate all of a sudden?"
"I did that last year too, you know."
"But why?"
"My cousin from Australia came over – and he always uses it – I suppose I just picked it up."
"You have an Australian cousin?"
"Yeah, mate."
"Wizard?"
"No, witch. And a half-blood at that. Well, so-called half blood, because her father's pureblood and her mother's muggle-born. Looks just like you, mate – you know, the eyes and stuff."
"You mean like Scout?"
"Not quite like Scout. I just noticed – you know, Scout's eyes change colour all the time. She must wear contacts." Ron declared curtly.
"But what's her name?"
"They call her Harriet – isn't that cute? Just like you. Scout's a Metamorphmagus, I expect – her hair colour's changed too – it's gone blue over the last few weeks. And she ditched the glasses. I'll bet she wore them just to look smarter. Not that she doesn't look like a big tech already, but…"
"Let's just fly away. Let's fly away to where we can forget about Hermione and Harriet and Scout and Stella-Hermione."
"Great, mate." They mounted their brooms and kicked off the ground.
Harry had been up in the air countless times before, but every single time his Firebolt took off above the ground, it still managed to evoke that same rush of adrenaline and high feeling. Even the flight with Mad-Eye Moody in the past year had been unable to dampen the fires that flying only fanned. When he was away from the earth, he forgot about everything – about Hermione's fury, Scout's eccentricity, Cho's avoidance and Stella-Hermione's obsession. Ron had to bring him back to the planet.
"You all right, mate?"
"Yes – I was just in another world for the moment."
"So nothing's changed, has it?"
Right then, the boys heard an ear-piercing shriek that chilled their blood to the bones.
"What was that?" Harry spiralled sharply, to see a blue blur tumbling out of the sky.
"Oh my god! It's Stella-Hermione!" Harry proceeded to swoop down to the ground, Ron hot on his trail.
"Sheesh! The kind of things that kid has!" Ron exclaimed. "She's got a Firebolt too!"
"What?" Harry wasn't listening; he was more concerned with the little figure lying on the ground. "Are you all right, Stella-Hermione?"
The tiny girl looked up. She seemed "all right" – she was sitting placidly, and nibbling a chocolate frog.
"Yes, I'm all right – why? I'm reading this fantastic book by Harper Lee - it's called 'To Kill a Mockingbird'"
"Didn't you…just…fall…off…your…broomstick?" Harry stuttered.
"Why?"
"Well, didn't you?"
She shook her head. "I've been watching you intently though, and I think you're marvellous – would you teach me how to fly? I don't know how to; see, that's why it couldn't have been me up in the air – you must be seeing things. Hey, do you want some of my chocolate?" she broke off a generous chunk and handed it to Harry.
"Well – yeah, okay. Thanks." Ron dragged him away.
"Harry!"
"Yes?"
"She gave you the bit she put her mouth on!"
"So?"
"Germs, Harry!"
"It's nothing Madam Pomfrey can't solve."
"Harry, you are impossible sometimes."
"Seeing things…Ron, could I be seeing things? Remember I was hearing things last time in the second year."
"But they turned out to be real, didn't they?"
"You've contradicted yourself."
"Whatever. Don't let me catch you talking like her again."
Back in the common room, Hermione was unimpressed.
"Harry, how many times have your guardians taught you to never accept food from strangers, especially if it came from their mouths?"
"Never." This was true – the Dursleys had never made a big deal about cleanliness when it came to Harry. To them, he was so filthy already that a bit more dirt wouldn't make a difference.
"Well, Harry – you could have put yourself at risk of many diseases, such as the common cold, the flu, glandular fever and more."
"As I said before, nothing Madam Pomfrey can't fix."
"Oh, Harry, will you be more careful? What if that girl has something like rabies?"
"Gosh, Hermione, I never believed you to be the imaginative type."
"Shut up, Harry, we all know you like her – you don't have to rub it in."
"Me, like Stella-Hermione Chang? Come on, Hermione – she's a first year, and she's ten at that. Six years."
"My parents are ten years apart," Hermione murmured darkly.
"Well, I want to go to sleep now. Is that all right with you?"
Harry skipped the trick stair of the dormitory flight, and climbed into his already-warm bed. He was looking forwards to a good night's sleep, until a little face peeped around the scarlet curtains of his four-poster bed.
"Harry Potter, sir!"
"Dobby!" the tennis-ball eyes were as distinctive as ever. "How are you?"
"Dobby is fine, sir! Dobby has been having a whale of a time!"
"A whale of a time?"
"Ah, 'tis a new phrase a friend of mine taught me."
"A friend?"
"Yes – so early this year and I have been able to make a new friend. I listen to her as I listen to you – I am bound to."
"What, does Draco have a sister? Is a grand-daughter of Dumbledore here?"
"Oh, I promised her I would not tell Harry Potter, sir. But you shall find out soon enough! She told me to give you this."
In Dobby's outstretched hand was a packet of Chocoballs, chocolate-coated spheres filled with strawberry mousse and rich cream.
"When does Quidditch start?" Ron was clearly eager as he brought the subject up over dinner. "I can't wait this year – Charlie came back and he's been coaching me."
"But what about me?" Harry's face fell. "Umbridge banned me."
"I would not worry about it if I were you," Professor McGonagal was standing right behind Harry, which made everybody jump.
"Professor…"
"As you know, Professor Umbridge has been sack…sorry, outvoted, and has left the Ministry of Magic. So any regulations she set in place have now been declared invalid."
Harry felt glad that Professor McGonagal was standing there to prevent him from leaping and strangling Malfoy, who was within range, with his joy.
"Oh – I forgot to tell you all – Dad – he's the school supervisor now!"
"You forgot to tell us?"
"Well, we're trying to keep it quiet – you know…Dad's…"
"Reputation," Harry finished.
"Yeah…and a lot of people don't agree, and so he's lying low at the moment."
Harry was distracted by Draco Malfoy striding across the corner of his eye. Walking next to him was Pansy Parkinson…no…wait…
"What's Stella-Hermione doing with Draco Malfoy?"
Harry choked on a piece of bread, and he spun around in his chair, falling out of it. Ron caught the chair, but let Harry crumple onto the floor.
"Are you all right, mate?" Ron asked in shock.
"Stella-Hermione…was she…"
"I don't understand what you're babbling about. Perhaps Professor Snape was right – you do deserve a dose of potion."
"But she…" Harry broke off, looking where she had been a moment ago.
"Ron's right – that girl is not someone strange, but something strange! Harry – you've got to keep away from her! She'll cast something on you – I don't know what at the moment – it could be some kind of mental curse – oh, be careful, Harry!"
The three of them were working on Atlantis essays for History of Magic. Harry threw down his quill, afeeling utterly outraged. "Look, Hermione, you're only jealous of her because you've been the star of Hogwarts for five years and now you don't want to give you your position!" Harry prepared to storm off and down to the quidditch pitch alone. He had already picked up his Firebolt from Professor McGonagal.
"But Harry – she's playing on your mind – it's not a good idea to mess with her – you even said she's…"
"Fraternising with Draco Malfoy? Well, I must have imagined it. It's not possible, I mean, Draco wouldn't associate with girls like her – he's so attached to Pansy."
"Harry, you have to watch out for her! What if she's Umbridge's messenger or something? Look at her – she's running around changing Hogwarts. She's brought a piano. She's brought music lessons. She's going to skate on the lake when it freezes this winter. And have you ever seen that stationery of hers?"
"No," Harry replied. "Why?"
"She cuts her parchment into little pieces and punches holes in them to put them in muggle folders. And holographic ones at that, with her picture – what an egoist."
"So?"
"Well, isn't it easier to cheat the length? I mean, there's always a bit that gives when you cut it."
"It's just another way of organising work, and you're jealous just because it's better than yours."
"Excuse me, Harry, but I am perfectly satisfied with my system of rolled parchment."
"Won't you give her a break? She's a child, she's younger than all of us put together!"
"Well, why do you care so much about her? You're always defending her."
"I thought you got over Cho!"
"She has nothing to do with Cho."
"Oh yeah – she's her sister."
"They're practically divorced!"
"The word isn't 'divorced', Harry, it's disowned."
"Let's get out of here – I'm going to the pitch now."
"Ron, there's forty-five minutes!"
"So what? Nobody's going to be there at this hour."
Surprise, surprise – the pitch was not deserted, as Ron had believed before, but the Ravenclaw team appeared to be doing a practice. On closer inspection, however, it appeared to be only two people – Cho and her sister.
"Cho!" Harry cried out instinctively. She turned around and strode off the pitch. Harry dropped his broomstick and ran after her, but Ron stopped him.
"Do you want Hermione to have another excuse, mate?"
"Another excuse to what?"
"To accuse you of…with Stella-Hermione Chang!"
"Why have you started calling me mate all of a sudden?"
"I did that last year too, you know."
"But why?"
"My cousin from Australia came over – and he always uses it – I suppose I just picked it up."
"You have an Australian cousin?"
"Yeah, mate."
"Wizard?"
"No, witch. And a half-blood at that. Well, so-called half blood, because her father's pureblood and her mother's muggle-born. Looks just like you, mate – you know, the eyes and stuff."
"You mean like Scout?"
"Not quite like Scout. I just noticed – you know, Scout's eyes change colour all the time. She must wear contacts." Ron declared curtly.
"But what's her name?"
"They call her Harriet – isn't that cute? Just like you. Scout's a Metamorphmagus, I expect – her hair colour's changed too – it's gone blue over the last few weeks. And she ditched the glasses. I'll bet she wore them just to look smarter. Not that she doesn't look like a big tech already, but…"
"Let's just fly away. Let's fly away to where we can forget about Hermione and Harriet and Scout and Stella-Hermione."
"Great, mate." They mounted their brooms and kicked off the ground.
Harry had been up in the air countless times before, but every single time his Firebolt took off above the ground, it still managed to evoke that same rush of adrenaline and high feeling. Even the flight with Mad-Eye Moody in the past year had been unable to dampen the fires that flying only fanned. When he was away from the earth, he forgot about everything – about Hermione's fury, Scout's eccentricity, Cho's avoidance and Stella-Hermione's obsession. Ron had to bring him back to the planet.
"You all right, mate?"
"Yes – I was just in another world for the moment."
"So nothing's changed, has it?"
Right then, the boys heard an ear-piercing shriek that chilled their blood to the bones.
"What was that?" Harry spiralled sharply, to see a blue blur tumbling out of the sky.
"Oh my god! It's Stella-Hermione!" Harry proceeded to swoop down to the ground, Ron hot on his trail.
"Sheesh! The kind of things that kid has!" Ron exclaimed. "She's got a Firebolt too!"
"What?" Harry wasn't listening; he was more concerned with the little figure lying on the ground. "Are you all right, Stella-Hermione?"
The tiny girl looked up. She seemed "all right" – she was sitting placidly, and nibbling a chocolate frog.
"Yes, I'm all right – why? I'm reading this fantastic book by Harper Lee - it's called 'To Kill a Mockingbird'"
"Didn't you…just…fall…off…your…broomstick?" Harry stuttered.
"Why?"
"Well, didn't you?"
She shook her head. "I've been watching you intently though, and I think you're marvellous – would you teach me how to fly? I don't know how to; see, that's why it couldn't have been me up in the air – you must be seeing things. Hey, do you want some of my chocolate?" she broke off a generous chunk and handed it to Harry.
"Well – yeah, okay. Thanks." Ron dragged him away.
"Harry!"
"Yes?"
"She gave you the bit she put her mouth on!"
"So?"
"Germs, Harry!"
"It's nothing Madam Pomfrey can't solve."
"Harry, you are impossible sometimes."
"Seeing things…Ron, could I be seeing things? Remember I was hearing things last time in the second year."
"But they turned out to be real, didn't they?"
"You've contradicted yourself."
"Whatever. Don't let me catch you talking like her again."
Back in the common room, Hermione was unimpressed.
"Harry, how many times have your guardians taught you to never accept food from strangers, especially if it came from their mouths?"
"Never." This was true – the Dursleys had never made a big deal about cleanliness when it came to Harry. To them, he was so filthy already that a bit more dirt wouldn't make a difference.
"Well, Harry – you could have put yourself at risk of many diseases, such as the common cold, the flu, glandular fever and more."
"As I said before, nothing Madam Pomfrey can't fix."
"Oh, Harry, will you be more careful? What if that girl has something like rabies?"
"Gosh, Hermione, I never believed you to be the imaginative type."
"Shut up, Harry, we all know you like her – you don't have to rub it in."
"Me, like Stella-Hermione Chang? Come on, Hermione – she's a first year, and she's ten at that. Six years."
"My parents are ten years apart," Hermione murmured darkly.
"Well, I want to go to sleep now. Is that all right with you?"
Harry skipped the trick stair of the dormitory flight, and climbed into his already-warm bed. He was looking forwards to a good night's sleep, until a little face peeped around the scarlet curtains of his four-poster bed.
"Harry Potter, sir!"
"Dobby!" the tennis-ball eyes were as distinctive as ever. "How are you?"
"Dobby is fine, sir! Dobby has been having a whale of a time!"
"A whale of a time?"
"Ah, 'tis a new phrase a friend of mine taught me."
"A friend?"
"Yes – so early this year and I have been able to make a new friend. I listen to her as I listen to you – I am bound to."
"What, does Draco have a sister? Is a grand-daughter of Dumbledore here?"
"Oh, I promised her I would not tell Harry Potter, sir. But you shall find out soon enough! She told me to give you this."
In Dobby's outstretched hand was a packet of Chocoballs, chocolate-coated spheres filled with strawberry mousse and rich cream.
