AN: I figure if Hagrid can't spell "Voldemort" he can't spell "marshmallow" either. And I don't know if coconut Jell-O even exists.
Chapter 6: Across the Channel
"Professor Dumbledore says we're supposed to celebrate today," Harry told Ron, Hermione, and Neville as they were assembling for Care of Magical Creatures class.
"Cool!" exclaimed Ron. "I'll get some refreshments from the kitchen. It'll be the best!"
"Well, don't go overboard," Hermione warned him. She knew the house-elves would send Ron away with half the eatables in the kitchen if he gave them any encouragement.
"I invited Ivy to join us," Harry added quietly.
"Are you sure that's wise, Harry?" Ron asked. "Remembering certain people she associates with?"
"Wise or not, she needs to be there," said Harry. Neville nodded.
The Slytherin contingent was arriving in a tight little group. Draco Malfoy sauntered over to face Harry. "I've something to say to you, Potter," he snapped. "Crabbe tells me he saw you and Ivy Parkinson talking together on the stairs last night. You stay away from her, you hear me? Ivy is off-limits to you."
"She's not your property, Malfoy," Harry said evenly. "You must not feel very sure of her, if you think I'm a threat."
"You, a threat, Potter? Don't make me laugh."
That was an idea. Harry would have been tempted to try the Multiple Tickling Charm on Malfoy, if he hadn't been so abysmal at it. But an ordinary dueling charm would work nearly as well … Pansy Parkinson muttered, "You steer clear of my sister, if you know what's good for you, Potter," and Harry almost retorted, "Why, what's wrong with her?" but Hagrid was calling the class to attention.
This week they were studying fire crabs. As noted in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, these animals resembled large tortoises with heavily jewelled shells. They were sought after as pets, but required a license. Knowing Hagrid, Harry suspected that their presence at Hogwarts might not be strictly legal. But they were pretty to look at, and the students were performing an interesting experiment. Fire crabs loved sweets, and Hagrid had come up with a plan to feed them Jell-O and see what effect it had on the composition of their shells. Next to a pile of dishes and spoons, a row of crockery bowls containing Jell-O in all colors of the rainbow, a couple of them with marshmallows, sat on a large table. One bowl appeared empty, but on closer inspection it turned out to hold colorless, completely transparent Jell-O. "Wonder what flavour this is," said Seamus Finnegan, peering into the bowl and sniffing at it.
"Tha's cocoanut," Hagrid told him. "Thought it migh' make 'em grow di'monds on their shells. Worth a try. Now yeh
see, class, first each of yeh tie a label onto the crab o' yer choice." He indicated a pile of parchment tags with strings attached, with "razzberry," "orange with marshmellers," "lemin," "lime with marshmellers," "bleuberry," "grape," "coaconut," and "tooti frooti with marshmellers" lettered on them. "Then yeh make sure they eat only wha' the label says, and see if they get matchin' coloured jewels on their shells."
"What about the, er, marshmallows?" Hermione wanted to know.
"Pearls," Hagrid replied.
"Makes perfect sense," said Ron. He selected an "orange with marshmellers" label (orange was the colour of his favourite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons) and started tying it around a fire crab's neck. The animal didn't object. Although fire crabs were related to Blast-Ended Skrewts, the creatures which had filled last year's classes with so much danger and excitement, and shared with them the ability to shoot flames from their back ends, the fire crabs were far slower and more peaceable, defending themselves only when provoked.
The students spent a diverting hour labeling their crabs and feeding them dishes of gelatin, which the creatures ate with great relish. In fact the main problem was to keep them supplied with their own proper flavours so that they wouldn't wander off and sample the wrong kinds. Seamus chose lime with marshmallows, Hermione the almost invisible coconut, and Neville the blueberry flavour. Lavender and Parvati picked the grape. Harry and Dean shared the bowl of raspberry Jello between their two crabs. Harry noted that Crabbe and Goyle, serving the tutti frutti with marshmallows to the crabs assigned to them, were spooning a great deal of it into their own mouths as well. Ron caught them at it too. "Well, at least one of them's a Crabbe," he murmured to Harry, "so I guess he's entitled."
When class was over the students helped Hagrid to herd the fire crabs back to their enclosure (Hagrid had rigged a pen for them in his back yard). "It'll probably take at least a few hours for the diet to take effect," Hagrid told them, "so remember what yer crab looks like terday. Take a good look at it before yeh go."
But apparently one of the students had a different idea. Goyle had picked up his fire crab and was walking away with it. The crab did not take kindly to this, and lived up to its name by sending out a blast of fire. Malfoy was following closely behind Goyle—screening him, perhaps? —and the flames caught him squarely on the front of his robes. Malfoy stopped dead and yelled something unprintable.
Harry acted without hesitation. He yanked out his wand, pointed it at Malfoy, whose robes were on fire, and shouted, "/Aquafrigida!/" The jet of water doused the flames immediately, but just to be sure, Harry continued to play the water over his nemesis, who went on cursing as the chilly water soaked him from head to foot. Malfoy used his hands to shield himself and tried to step away from the line of fire, but Harry adjusted his aim to compensate, catching a couple of other Slytherins in the process. Pansy squealed with the shock of the cold water as it went by.
"You can stop now, Harry," Neville prompted him nervously.
"Oh, right," said Harry, and did.
Ron was doubled over with laughter, and Dean and Seamus were impressed. "Awesome, Harry." "Where'd you learn that?"
Before Harry could answer, Hermione broke in. "I taught it to him. I found it while I was doing some research for Defense Against the Dark Arts class."
While Hagrid was letting Goyle have it for trying to take the fire crab without permission, Malfoy came over and confronted Harry for the second time that day. He was still dripping, and Hermione dried him off as unobtrusively as possible. He looked at Harry with loathing, but since Hagrid had one eye on him, he merely said with deadly quiet, "I owe you a favour, Potter. I'll be sure to return it."
"Not at all," said Harry. "Happy to help. Wanted to make sure you didn't get a nasty burn there. Lots of cold water's the best for that, you know."
"Better take care not to get any, er, nasty burns yourself, Potter," Malfoy shot back.
When the fire crab had been replaced with its fellows and most of the class had left, Hermione looked at him with wide eyes. "You shouldn't have done that, Harry!" she worried.
Ron was still chuckling. "Why not? It was perfect!"
"For one thing, people aren't supposed to know that Harry's learning spells like that! And besides, you don't need something that powerful to put out such a little fire. It's like … well, like …"
"Like putting out a candle with a bucket of water," Ron obliged, grinning widely.
"Oh, brilliant comparison," Hermione snapped.
Neville added, "Maybe Hermione means that that kind of spell shouldn't be wasted on … on …"
"… On petty personal revenge," Hermione finished for him. "You're right, Neville, that's just what I wanted to say."
"I reckon I got a little carried away. Once I got started it was hard to stop …" Harry paused, remembering. "Thanks for covering for me, Hermione."
"You did the right thing, Harry, no matter what anyone says," Ron told him. "After all he was on fire and you did put it out. What more could anyone ask for?" The whole incident seemed to have put Ron in an excellent humour. Harry had found it rather satisfying too, but he felt a small qualm when he thought about what Draco Malfoy might do to get even, and he wondered if he had needlessly complicated the situation with Ivy. What if she couldn't get away at all that afternoon?
* * * * * * * *
But he needn't have worried. When he and Ron arrived on Hagrid's doorstep at teatime, Ivy had already made herself at home and was brewing a pot of ginger tea. Ron was loaded down with a wicker hamper stuffed with puds and things from the kitchen, and he had given Harry numerous bottles of butterbeer to carry. Hagrid rescued three of them from falling when Harry stepped into the cottage and tried to put all of them down on the table at once. The two of them lined up the bottles as Ron set out the feast, and soon Hermione and Neville arrived, shaking the rain off their cloaks, for it had started to drizzle. Six people in Hagrid's little hut (plus Fang the boarhound) turned out to be a tight fit. They were short a chair or two, but Hagrid had provided some cushions on the floor to make up the difference.
Harry made introductions. "Ron, Hermione, this is Ivy Parkinson from Slytherin. She has information we need."
"Hagrid and I have already met," said Ivy with one of her odd little smiles. Of course she had studied Care of Magical Creatures with him, but she appeared to mean more than that. And they seemed to have taken to each other too, Harry noticed somewhat to his surprise. All the Slytherins of his year agreed that Hagrid was nothing but a bumbling idiot.
"So, Ivy, you didn't have any trouble, er, getting away this afternoon?" Neville wanted to know.
"Not at all. For one thing, Draco's having Quidditch practice this afternoon."
"And he doesn't expect you to sit in the rain and watch him?" Ron wondered with a touch of sarcasm.
"Oh, he'd like me to," Ivy replied, refusing to be ruffled, "but it's not my idea of fun. I'm not all that interested in Quidditch anyway."
"Not … interested …?" Ron was silenced. He looked at her with even more suspicion than before.
"I suppose you heard that Draco told Harry never to speak to you again," Hermione remarked.
"More than that. I also heard Draco tell me never to speak to Harry again," Ivy retorted, "but I told him that it was a shame to waste such a perfect opportunity to collect information about what the Gryffindors might be up to, and he changed his mind."
"But you weren't supposed to tell us that!" Neville exclaimed.
"Are you here to spy on us, Ivy?" Harry asked.
"I haven't decided yet," Ivy conceded. "I'm leaving the possibility open."
"And meanwhile you're disarming us with your honesty," Ron parried.
Ivy shrugged. "It's better than pretending that butter wouldn't melt in my mouth. You wouldn't believe that of a Slytherin, would you? Look, I'm not here to help Harry or any of the rest of you, or Frank Longbottom, or Draco Malfoy either, except for Uncle Severus' sake. I'll do whatever it takes to save Uncle's honour and promote his interests."
"Snape? Why are you so dotty about him?" Ron asked bluntly. He seemed determined to get under Ivy's skin, and this time he succeeded. Her face hardened, reminding Harry unpleasantly of her sister Pansy, and she glared at Ron without a word.
"Ron, wait until Neville and I explain what's happened since last week," said Harry. "I reckon you'll see things a bit differently."
"Tha's wha' yer all here for, isn' that right?" Hagrid reminded them. "We all want ter hear wha's been goin' on. I know I do. Now everyone help yerselves—there's plenty of everythin'—an' settle down, an' we'll get on with it."
Hermione touched each bottle of butterbeer with her wand, so that they would stay cool to the touch while dispensing steaming hot drinks. Everyone did what Hagrid suggested, avoiding the gamekeeper's rock cakes from hard experience. Ivy took a cup of tea and seated herself on a cushion near the fire. The rain had grown heavier, and they could hear it thudding on the roof. Neville said, "I'll start," rightly guessing that Harry preferred not to tell the story of his most recent visit to Frank Longbottom. When Neville got to the point in the story where his father had implicated Peter Pettigrew, Ivy clenched her fists, and Ron choked on a cream cake.
"Pettigrew? Wormtail? SCABBERS!" he sputtered, and hurled the rest of his cream cake into the fire, where it blazed up in a spectacle of shooting multicoloured flames. Ron looked ready to go up in flames himself. "Wormtail AGAIN? I'll never hear the end of him, will I? Every year I live, I'll be treated to some revolting new tidbit about that little beast's depraved past! He betrayed Harry's parents, he brought back You-Know-Who, and now you're telling me that he tortured your Dad?" he demanded of Neville.
"My Mum, too."
"Your Mum, too," Ron echoed. "That's just fine. That's about as low as you can get. A life of crime that would turn your stomach, with a stint as a pet rat just for a change of pace. I could puke when I think how he used to—oh, forget it. Just forget it." He reached for another cream cake, but Harry stayed his hand.
"Wait. You'd better hear the rest before you take that."
"You mean there's more?"
"There's more, all right," said Harry. After Neville had finished describing the trip to the hospital, ending with the visit to his mother, Harry recounted his conversation with Ivy in the library, with her permission, and Neville took up the tale again with last night's bizarre session in the Hidden Hall. Harry or Ivy occasionally added something, but Neville showed a surprising knack for repeating dialogue word for word, considering how much trouble he had remembering his lessons and belongings.
"No wonder you were scared, Harry," Hermione commented after hearing about the hair-raising exchange between Harry and Snape, ending in Ivy's surprise appearance.
"Spitless," Harry admitted, and took a long pull at his mug of butterbeer.
The part about the lady in the painting who wanted them to share their feelings caught Ron with a mouthful of butterbeer, and he ended up spraying his robes thoroughly.
"We haven't seen the last of her, that's for sure," said Ivy when Ron's laughter had subsided. "Professor Dumbledore must have had her in there on purpose to make sure all of you behaved."
"Well, you were the one who started her off," Ron pointed out. "If you hadn't—"
"If I hadn't been there, something else would have happened to get her going," Ivy countered. "In fact it was just about to, if you ask me."
"Okay, Ivy, you win," said Ron. "I'm with you. Any enemy of Wormtail's is a friend of mine. Even if it's Professor Snape. I'll help you get him covered with medals if you want, and he might even deserve them." He took another cream cake (Harry didn't object this time) and asked, "How did you get into the room? I thought there was a secret password or something."
Ivy sighed impatiently. "I made it my job to hear what it was. It's a matter of being in the right place at the right time, without anybody noticing."
"You're good at that, aren't you," said Hermione, and she wasn't sneering. She sounded admiring and just a little envious.
"It's not as hard as you might think, even without an Invisibility Cloak," said Ivy with a meaningful glance at Harry. "Most of the time people aren't paying attention. They're wrapped up in their own affairs. Right now, someone could be standing outside that door and listening to everything we say."
"In all this rain?" asked Ron skeptically. Actually the rain was giving way to sleet. But Ivy went to the door anyway, opened it, and peered out. Nobody was there.
"Well, there could have been somebody," she said.
Ron took the hint. "Do you mean to say that if you weren't in here, you'd be out there?"
"Something like that." Ivy returned to her seat, after helping herself to more tea.
"So then this morning, Professor Dumbledore gave Neville and me a week off and told us to celebrate," Harry concluded, "and here we are." He took a treacle tart and bit into it.
"Well, Harry, I'm proud of yeh," Hagrid told him, beaming. "I knew yeh could do it. It's not over yet but yeh've made a good start. And Neville, yeh've come through with flying colours too. Keep it up."
"Something else happened this morning that we might want to discuss," said Hermione in a voice that warned Harry what she had in mind.
"Yeah, Harry, there's something you ought to know," said Ron. He grinned in Ivy's direction and said, "You're wasted as a wizard. You'd make … a first-class sprinkling can!"
"Ron, you're acting like a first-class nut case," Hermione informed him. "I just thought we ought to consider the consequences of Harry using the Drenching Spell on Draco Malfoy."
"What's done is done," said Hagrid. "No use cryin' over spilt milk. Or water, as the case might be. But Harry, yeh'd best try not ter do it again."
"Don't worry," said Harry. "Next time someone catches on fire, I'll just sit on my hands."
There was a pause while several of them went back for more refreshments, and Hagrid put another log on the fire. Neville said to Ivy, "You said that you don't like Quidditch much. What games do you like?"
"My father taught me chess when I was quite young," Ivy answered, "and I've always enjoyed it. But I haven't found a decent chess partner at Hogwarts since last year's class graduated."
"You're looking for someone to play chess?" Ron asked eagerly.
"Ron's your man," said Harry. "He can whip me every time. Not that I'm anything to brag about as a player."
"Hagrid, do you have a chess set?" Ron asked the gamekeeper.
"I think I do have one, Ron. Got it fer a present once an' never used it." Hermione got up and started clearing the table to make room. "Should be here somewhere …" Hagrid heaved open the lid of a battered old trunk at the foot of his bed and starting rummaging in it. He removed a moth-eaten old cape, some singed leather gloves, a dog-eared (literally, that is, with twitching, furry ears on the corners) photograph album with pictures of pets past and present, a box containing fragments of the shell of a dragon's egg and a few large feathers, and finally came up with a wooden box that opened flat into a chessboard, disclosing a smaller box which held the chess pieces. Even before Hagrid opened this they could all hear the muffled sounds of the pieces clamoring to escape. When he lifted the lid they jumped out and surged over the board, chattering with excitement as they took their places.
While Ron and Ivy played and the rest watched, Hagrid and Ivy heard about the Itching Potion, the Sickening Potion, and the Panic Potion, and Ivy learned the Opposition Verse and the alternate version from the Marauder's Map. Hagrid boiled water and started stirring up the Jell-O for the next day's Magical Creatures lesson, and Hermione and Neville helped him measure hot and cold water into the bowls. Ron wanted to add the marshmallows, but it wasn't time yet.
Thanks to Ron's instruction, Harry knew enough chess to follow the gist of the action. Ivy played a game of misdirection, leading her opponent to one conclusion about her purposes and all the while planning something different. After Ivy won the first game, Ron started to get the hang of her strategy and won the second.
"You're good," they said to each other. "Best of three?" proposed Ivy.
"You bet," said Ron. The third game was long and hard-fought, but Ivy took the honours. Ron was clearly disappointed when his king was gorily decapitated, but they agreed to meet soon for a rematch.
As the five students left Hagrid's and crossed the grounds in the sleety dusk, Harry walked next to Ivy and said in a low voice, "You and Hagrid seem rather chummy." The two had said little to each other, but at the end of their visit Hagrid had taken her hand and given her a warm farewell.
"It's only people who aren't observant who think Hagrid is negligible, Harry," said Ivy. "He's a friend of yours and Professor Dumbledore's, and he knows things. Important things that most people don't know." Secret knowledge earned Ivy's respect.
* * * * * * * *
At dinner that evening, it was Ron, for a change, whose appetite had deserted him. He frowned at his plate of spaghetti as if he had forgotten what he was supposed do with it.
"Too many cream cakes," Hermione diagnosed.
"Too much butterbeer," Neville opined.
"Too many feelings," Harry sympathized.
"Or could it be too much chess?" Ron inquired of his plate. "I haven't lost a chess match in years—not to someone younger than me, anyway. I'm not used to it."
But it wasn't the chess that was really bothering him, Harry was sure. When dinner was over, Ron moped around the Gryffindor common room and couldn't concentrate on his homework. After they had gone to bed, Harry could hear Ron moving restlessly. He listened to his friend sigh and mutter and flop over and punch his pillow for a while. Finally Harry put on his glasses, got out of bed and whispered, "Ron?" He shivered in the night chill and pulled on a dressing gown over his pajamas.
"Harry? You still awake?" Ron poked his head out from between his curtains. "C'mon in here."
Harry settled himself at the foot of Ron's bed and asked, "What's up?"
Ron pulled his blankets up around his shoulders and lit his wand just enough so they could see each other. They talked in whispers. "I can't stop thinking about Wormtail," Ron confessed. "I just keep seeing him in my mind, and I can almost feel him crawling around on me, the way he used to." Ron shuddered. "I want to strangle him, or maybe give him to Crookshanks to play with. For a good long time." Harry could just make out Ron's satisfied smile as he thought of how Hermione's pet cat would deal with Wormtail. "When I remember what he did to Neville's parents—and yours—I want him to suffer and die horribly. I get furious when I think what he did to Professor Snape—and I don't even like Professor Snape. But I can't get Wormtail out of my mind. It's like I'm possessed or something."
"I know what you mean," said Harry. "After Frank Longbottom told me about Wormtail, the same kind of thing happened to me. I imagined torturing him, over and over. After what he did, nothing seemed too horrible. But it didn't make me feel any better and I couldn't stop."
"But you came out of it, didn't you?"
"Yes, but it didn't really get better until I heard Ivy saying the same things I'd been thinking. She just lost it, and I felt better straight away. It's like anger at Wormtail is a hot potato that we're passing around. First me. Then Snape."
"And of course Snape took it out on you, in that charming way he has."
"Then Ivy, and then you," Harry went on. "And maybe it's worse for you because you kept him as a pet for so long."
"I don't want to think about it," said Ron stonily. "If I had known, I would have thrown him across the Channel when Percy gave him to me."
"Does Percy know anything …?" Harry ventured.
"No. And I'm not going to tell him. Anyway, Percy didn't have him very long and kept him in a cage."
Harry decided not to ask how Percy had come to own Scabbers, alias Wormtail. He leaned back against the footboard of Ron's bed.
"So who's left?" Ron asked rhetorically, studying the faint glow at the tip of his wand. "Hagrid, Hermione, and Neville. Neville's the obvious choice, but I wouldn't wish this on anyone. Why hasn't Neville taken a turn with the hot potato? Maybe he's just too nice." Ron rubbed one hand over his face. "I'm really tired."
"Buck up. Sometimes it helps to think about something else," said Harry. "Imagine how you're going to beat Ivy the next time you play chess."
"I tried that," said Ron. "All the chess pieces kept turning into Wormtail. Can't you just see it? Rat kings, and rat queens, and rat knights, all with whiskers and twitching little noses." Ron made a sound of disgust.
Harry hesitated, then said, "I still have some of the hellebore Hermione gave me. Keep it by your bed, but don't use it unless you have to. And you could try the Opposition Verse."
* * * * * * * *
The next morning Ron came down late, with circles under his eyes, just as the Gryffindor common room was emptying out for breakfast. Harry, Hermione, and Neville were waiting for him. "You look terrible, Ron," Hermione exclaimed. "Harry told us about—you know. How did you get through the night?"
"Well, I didn't take the hellebore," said Ron. "I tried the Opposition Verse, like you said, Harry, but it didn't work very well. In fact, it didn't work at all. What works is the other verse, the Sprinkling Can version. As soon as I hit on that I could send dear little Wormtail away. But by then it was pretty late."
"Good show, Ron," Harry approved. "That's the stuff. That could be a really good thing to know."
"Maybe you should come with Harry and me the next time we meet with Professor Snape," said Neville. "If you want to," he added.
"I'll have to think about that," said Ron, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
Hermione looked at Ron as a thought occurred to her. "That verse came from the Marauder's Map," she said, "and the Marauder's Map has part of Wormtail in it."
"I have a plan about that," said Harry. "Ron, stick around after Quidditch practice this afternoon."
They were only a few minutes late to breakfast, and Ron snoozed through his classes while the others covered for him. After a few whispered words of explanation to Hagrid, Neville even fed orange Jell-O with marshmallows to Ron's fire crab while Ron stretched out on Hagrid's bed. The jewels on the crabs were showing signs of mutating to match the colours of their meals. Hermione took detailed notes on the changes in hers.
"What are you going to do with all that?" Harry asked, peeking at her parchment.
"Make a graph," answered Hermione, scribbling busily. If Ron had been there he probably would have scoffed, but Harry found himself rather intrigued. He looked at his own fire crab, feasting on more raspberry Jell-O, with new interest. "If you want to give me information about yours, I can make a graph for it too," she offered.
"Sure, why not?" said Harry. "Thanks, Hermione." He fished in his bag for a quill and started taking some notes of his own. He and Draco Malfoy, serving lemon Jell-O to his fire crab, avoided each other pointedly.
AN: When I put Hagrid and Ivy in the same room, the affinity between them took me totally by surprise. I couldn't explain it. You'll find out more of what's behind it in Chapter 7, "Salazara." And when Ivy and Hermione actually meet, they get along fairly well; they have a lot in common. Most of the tension manifests itself between Ivy and Ron.
Chapter 6: Across the Channel
"Professor Dumbledore says we're supposed to celebrate today," Harry told Ron, Hermione, and Neville as they were assembling for Care of Magical Creatures class.
"Cool!" exclaimed Ron. "I'll get some refreshments from the kitchen. It'll be the best!"
"Well, don't go overboard," Hermione warned him. She knew the house-elves would send Ron away with half the eatables in the kitchen if he gave them any encouragement.
"I invited Ivy to join us," Harry added quietly.
"Are you sure that's wise, Harry?" Ron asked. "Remembering certain people she associates with?"
"Wise or not, she needs to be there," said Harry. Neville nodded.
The Slytherin contingent was arriving in a tight little group. Draco Malfoy sauntered over to face Harry. "I've something to say to you, Potter," he snapped. "Crabbe tells me he saw you and Ivy Parkinson talking together on the stairs last night. You stay away from her, you hear me? Ivy is off-limits to you."
"She's not your property, Malfoy," Harry said evenly. "You must not feel very sure of her, if you think I'm a threat."
"You, a threat, Potter? Don't make me laugh."
That was an idea. Harry would have been tempted to try the Multiple Tickling Charm on Malfoy, if he hadn't been so abysmal at it. But an ordinary dueling charm would work nearly as well … Pansy Parkinson muttered, "You steer clear of my sister, if you know what's good for you, Potter," and Harry almost retorted, "Why, what's wrong with her?" but Hagrid was calling the class to attention.
This week they were studying fire crabs. As noted in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, these animals resembled large tortoises with heavily jewelled shells. They were sought after as pets, but required a license. Knowing Hagrid, Harry suspected that their presence at Hogwarts might not be strictly legal. But they were pretty to look at, and the students were performing an interesting experiment. Fire crabs loved sweets, and Hagrid had come up with a plan to feed them Jell-O and see what effect it had on the composition of their shells. Next to a pile of dishes and spoons, a row of crockery bowls containing Jell-O in all colors of the rainbow, a couple of them with marshmallows, sat on a large table. One bowl appeared empty, but on closer inspection it turned out to hold colorless, completely transparent Jell-O. "Wonder what flavour this is," said Seamus Finnegan, peering into the bowl and sniffing at it.
"Tha's cocoanut," Hagrid told him. "Thought it migh' make 'em grow di'monds on their shells. Worth a try. Now yeh
see, class, first each of yeh tie a label onto the crab o' yer choice." He indicated a pile of parchment tags with strings attached, with "razzberry," "orange with marshmellers," "lemin," "lime with marshmellers," "bleuberry," "grape," "coaconut," and "tooti frooti with marshmellers" lettered on them. "Then yeh make sure they eat only wha' the label says, and see if they get matchin' coloured jewels on their shells."
"What about the, er, marshmallows?" Hermione wanted to know.
"Pearls," Hagrid replied.
"Makes perfect sense," said Ron. He selected an "orange with marshmellers" label (orange was the colour of his favourite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons) and started tying it around a fire crab's neck. The animal didn't object. Although fire crabs were related to Blast-Ended Skrewts, the creatures which had filled last year's classes with so much danger and excitement, and shared with them the ability to shoot flames from their back ends, the fire crabs were far slower and more peaceable, defending themselves only when provoked.
The students spent a diverting hour labeling their crabs and feeding them dishes of gelatin, which the creatures ate with great relish. In fact the main problem was to keep them supplied with their own proper flavours so that they wouldn't wander off and sample the wrong kinds. Seamus chose lime with marshmallows, Hermione the almost invisible coconut, and Neville the blueberry flavour. Lavender and Parvati picked the grape. Harry and Dean shared the bowl of raspberry Jello between their two crabs. Harry noted that Crabbe and Goyle, serving the tutti frutti with marshmallows to the crabs assigned to them, were spooning a great deal of it into their own mouths as well. Ron caught them at it too. "Well, at least one of them's a Crabbe," he murmured to Harry, "so I guess he's entitled."
When class was over the students helped Hagrid to herd the fire crabs back to their enclosure (Hagrid had rigged a pen for them in his back yard). "It'll probably take at least a few hours for the diet to take effect," Hagrid told them, "so remember what yer crab looks like terday. Take a good look at it before yeh go."
But apparently one of the students had a different idea. Goyle had picked up his fire crab and was walking away with it. The crab did not take kindly to this, and lived up to its name by sending out a blast of fire. Malfoy was following closely behind Goyle—screening him, perhaps? —and the flames caught him squarely on the front of his robes. Malfoy stopped dead and yelled something unprintable.
Harry acted without hesitation. He yanked out his wand, pointed it at Malfoy, whose robes were on fire, and shouted, "/Aquafrigida!/" The jet of water doused the flames immediately, but just to be sure, Harry continued to play the water over his nemesis, who went on cursing as the chilly water soaked him from head to foot. Malfoy used his hands to shield himself and tried to step away from the line of fire, but Harry adjusted his aim to compensate, catching a couple of other Slytherins in the process. Pansy squealed with the shock of the cold water as it went by.
"You can stop now, Harry," Neville prompted him nervously.
"Oh, right," said Harry, and did.
Ron was doubled over with laughter, and Dean and Seamus were impressed. "Awesome, Harry." "Where'd you learn that?"
Before Harry could answer, Hermione broke in. "I taught it to him. I found it while I was doing some research for Defense Against the Dark Arts class."
While Hagrid was letting Goyle have it for trying to take the fire crab without permission, Malfoy came over and confronted Harry for the second time that day. He was still dripping, and Hermione dried him off as unobtrusively as possible. He looked at Harry with loathing, but since Hagrid had one eye on him, he merely said with deadly quiet, "I owe you a favour, Potter. I'll be sure to return it."
"Not at all," said Harry. "Happy to help. Wanted to make sure you didn't get a nasty burn there. Lots of cold water's the best for that, you know."
"Better take care not to get any, er, nasty burns yourself, Potter," Malfoy shot back.
When the fire crab had been replaced with its fellows and most of the class had left, Hermione looked at him with wide eyes. "You shouldn't have done that, Harry!" she worried.
Ron was still chuckling. "Why not? It was perfect!"
"For one thing, people aren't supposed to know that Harry's learning spells like that! And besides, you don't need something that powerful to put out such a little fire. It's like … well, like …"
"Like putting out a candle with a bucket of water," Ron obliged, grinning widely.
"Oh, brilliant comparison," Hermione snapped.
Neville added, "Maybe Hermione means that that kind of spell shouldn't be wasted on … on …"
"… On petty personal revenge," Hermione finished for him. "You're right, Neville, that's just what I wanted to say."
"I reckon I got a little carried away. Once I got started it was hard to stop …" Harry paused, remembering. "Thanks for covering for me, Hermione."
"You did the right thing, Harry, no matter what anyone says," Ron told him. "After all he was on fire and you did put it out. What more could anyone ask for?" The whole incident seemed to have put Ron in an excellent humour. Harry had found it rather satisfying too, but he felt a small qualm when he thought about what Draco Malfoy might do to get even, and he wondered if he had needlessly complicated the situation with Ivy. What if she couldn't get away at all that afternoon?
* * * * * * * *
But he needn't have worried. When he and Ron arrived on Hagrid's doorstep at teatime, Ivy had already made herself at home and was brewing a pot of ginger tea. Ron was loaded down with a wicker hamper stuffed with puds and things from the kitchen, and he had given Harry numerous bottles of butterbeer to carry. Hagrid rescued three of them from falling when Harry stepped into the cottage and tried to put all of them down on the table at once. The two of them lined up the bottles as Ron set out the feast, and soon Hermione and Neville arrived, shaking the rain off their cloaks, for it had started to drizzle. Six people in Hagrid's little hut (plus Fang the boarhound) turned out to be a tight fit. They were short a chair or two, but Hagrid had provided some cushions on the floor to make up the difference.
Harry made introductions. "Ron, Hermione, this is Ivy Parkinson from Slytherin. She has information we need."
"Hagrid and I have already met," said Ivy with one of her odd little smiles. Of course she had studied Care of Magical Creatures with him, but she appeared to mean more than that. And they seemed to have taken to each other too, Harry noticed somewhat to his surprise. All the Slytherins of his year agreed that Hagrid was nothing but a bumbling idiot.
"So, Ivy, you didn't have any trouble, er, getting away this afternoon?" Neville wanted to know.
"Not at all. For one thing, Draco's having Quidditch practice this afternoon."
"And he doesn't expect you to sit in the rain and watch him?" Ron wondered with a touch of sarcasm.
"Oh, he'd like me to," Ivy replied, refusing to be ruffled, "but it's not my idea of fun. I'm not all that interested in Quidditch anyway."
"Not … interested …?" Ron was silenced. He looked at her with even more suspicion than before.
"I suppose you heard that Draco told Harry never to speak to you again," Hermione remarked.
"More than that. I also heard Draco tell me never to speak to Harry again," Ivy retorted, "but I told him that it was a shame to waste such a perfect opportunity to collect information about what the Gryffindors might be up to, and he changed his mind."
"But you weren't supposed to tell us that!" Neville exclaimed.
"Are you here to spy on us, Ivy?" Harry asked.
"I haven't decided yet," Ivy conceded. "I'm leaving the possibility open."
"And meanwhile you're disarming us with your honesty," Ron parried.
Ivy shrugged. "It's better than pretending that butter wouldn't melt in my mouth. You wouldn't believe that of a Slytherin, would you? Look, I'm not here to help Harry or any of the rest of you, or Frank Longbottom, or Draco Malfoy either, except for Uncle Severus' sake. I'll do whatever it takes to save Uncle's honour and promote his interests."
"Snape? Why are you so dotty about him?" Ron asked bluntly. He seemed determined to get under Ivy's skin, and this time he succeeded. Her face hardened, reminding Harry unpleasantly of her sister Pansy, and she glared at Ron without a word.
"Ron, wait until Neville and I explain what's happened since last week," said Harry. "I reckon you'll see things a bit differently."
"Tha's wha' yer all here for, isn' that right?" Hagrid reminded them. "We all want ter hear wha's been goin' on. I know I do. Now everyone help yerselves—there's plenty of everythin'—an' settle down, an' we'll get on with it."
Hermione touched each bottle of butterbeer with her wand, so that they would stay cool to the touch while dispensing steaming hot drinks. Everyone did what Hagrid suggested, avoiding the gamekeeper's rock cakes from hard experience. Ivy took a cup of tea and seated herself on a cushion near the fire. The rain had grown heavier, and they could hear it thudding on the roof. Neville said, "I'll start," rightly guessing that Harry preferred not to tell the story of his most recent visit to Frank Longbottom. When Neville got to the point in the story where his father had implicated Peter Pettigrew, Ivy clenched her fists, and Ron choked on a cream cake.
"Pettigrew? Wormtail? SCABBERS!" he sputtered, and hurled the rest of his cream cake into the fire, where it blazed up in a spectacle of shooting multicoloured flames. Ron looked ready to go up in flames himself. "Wormtail AGAIN? I'll never hear the end of him, will I? Every year I live, I'll be treated to some revolting new tidbit about that little beast's depraved past! He betrayed Harry's parents, he brought back You-Know-Who, and now you're telling me that he tortured your Dad?" he demanded of Neville.
"My Mum, too."
"Your Mum, too," Ron echoed. "That's just fine. That's about as low as you can get. A life of crime that would turn your stomach, with a stint as a pet rat just for a change of pace. I could puke when I think how he used to—oh, forget it. Just forget it." He reached for another cream cake, but Harry stayed his hand.
"Wait. You'd better hear the rest before you take that."
"You mean there's more?"
"There's more, all right," said Harry. After Neville had finished describing the trip to the hospital, ending with the visit to his mother, Harry recounted his conversation with Ivy in the library, with her permission, and Neville took up the tale again with last night's bizarre session in the Hidden Hall. Harry or Ivy occasionally added something, but Neville showed a surprising knack for repeating dialogue word for word, considering how much trouble he had remembering his lessons and belongings.
"No wonder you were scared, Harry," Hermione commented after hearing about the hair-raising exchange between Harry and Snape, ending in Ivy's surprise appearance.
"Spitless," Harry admitted, and took a long pull at his mug of butterbeer.
The part about the lady in the painting who wanted them to share their feelings caught Ron with a mouthful of butterbeer, and he ended up spraying his robes thoroughly.
"We haven't seen the last of her, that's for sure," said Ivy when Ron's laughter had subsided. "Professor Dumbledore must have had her in there on purpose to make sure all of you behaved."
"Well, you were the one who started her off," Ron pointed out. "If you hadn't—"
"If I hadn't been there, something else would have happened to get her going," Ivy countered. "In fact it was just about to, if you ask me."
"Okay, Ivy, you win," said Ron. "I'm with you. Any enemy of Wormtail's is a friend of mine. Even if it's Professor Snape. I'll help you get him covered with medals if you want, and he might even deserve them." He took another cream cake (Harry didn't object this time) and asked, "How did you get into the room? I thought there was a secret password or something."
Ivy sighed impatiently. "I made it my job to hear what it was. It's a matter of being in the right place at the right time, without anybody noticing."
"You're good at that, aren't you," said Hermione, and she wasn't sneering. She sounded admiring and just a little envious.
"It's not as hard as you might think, even without an Invisibility Cloak," said Ivy with a meaningful glance at Harry. "Most of the time people aren't paying attention. They're wrapped up in their own affairs. Right now, someone could be standing outside that door and listening to everything we say."
"In all this rain?" asked Ron skeptically. Actually the rain was giving way to sleet. But Ivy went to the door anyway, opened it, and peered out. Nobody was there.
"Well, there could have been somebody," she said.
Ron took the hint. "Do you mean to say that if you weren't in here, you'd be out there?"
"Something like that." Ivy returned to her seat, after helping herself to more tea.
"So then this morning, Professor Dumbledore gave Neville and me a week off and told us to celebrate," Harry concluded, "and here we are." He took a treacle tart and bit into it.
"Well, Harry, I'm proud of yeh," Hagrid told him, beaming. "I knew yeh could do it. It's not over yet but yeh've made a good start. And Neville, yeh've come through with flying colours too. Keep it up."
"Something else happened this morning that we might want to discuss," said Hermione in a voice that warned Harry what she had in mind.
"Yeah, Harry, there's something you ought to know," said Ron. He grinned in Ivy's direction and said, "You're wasted as a wizard. You'd make … a first-class sprinkling can!"
"Ron, you're acting like a first-class nut case," Hermione informed him. "I just thought we ought to consider the consequences of Harry using the Drenching Spell on Draco Malfoy."
"What's done is done," said Hagrid. "No use cryin' over spilt milk. Or water, as the case might be. But Harry, yeh'd best try not ter do it again."
"Don't worry," said Harry. "Next time someone catches on fire, I'll just sit on my hands."
There was a pause while several of them went back for more refreshments, and Hagrid put another log on the fire. Neville said to Ivy, "You said that you don't like Quidditch much. What games do you like?"
"My father taught me chess when I was quite young," Ivy answered, "and I've always enjoyed it. But I haven't found a decent chess partner at Hogwarts since last year's class graduated."
"You're looking for someone to play chess?" Ron asked eagerly.
"Ron's your man," said Harry. "He can whip me every time. Not that I'm anything to brag about as a player."
"Hagrid, do you have a chess set?" Ron asked the gamekeeper.
"I think I do have one, Ron. Got it fer a present once an' never used it." Hermione got up and started clearing the table to make room. "Should be here somewhere …" Hagrid heaved open the lid of a battered old trunk at the foot of his bed and starting rummaging in it. He removed a moth-eaten old cape, some singed leather gloves, a dog-eared (literally, that is, with twitching, furry ears on the corners) photograph album with pictures of pets past and present, a box containing fragments of the shell of a dragon's egg and a few large feathers, and finally came up with a wooden box that opened flat into a chessboard, disclosing a smaller box which held the chess pieces. Even before Hagrid opened this they could all hear the muffled sounds of the pieces clamoring to escape. When he lifted the lid they jumped out and surged over the board, chattering with excitement as they took their places.
While Ron and Ivy played and the rest watched, Hagrid and Ivy heard about the Itching Potion, the Sickening Potion, and the Panic Potion, and Ivy learned the Opposition Verse and the alternate version from the Marauder's Map. Hagrid boiled water and started stirring up the Jell-O for the next day's Magical Creatures lesson, and Hermione and Neville helped him measure hot and cold water into the bowls. Ron wanted to add the marshmallows, but it wasn't time yet.
Thanks to Ron's instruction, Harry knew enough chess to follow the gist of the action. Ivy played a game of misdirection, leading her opponent to one conclusion about her purposes and all the while planning something different. After Ivy won the first game, Ron started to get the hang of her strategy and won the second.
"You're good," they said to each other. "Best of three?" proposed Ivy.
"You bet," said Ron. The third game was long and hard-fought, but Ivy took the honours. Ron was clearly disappointed when his king was gorily decapitated, but they agreed to meet soon for a rematch.
As the five students left Hagrid's and crossed the grounds in the sleety dusk, Harry walked next to Ivy and said in a low voice, "You and Hagrid seem rather chummy." The two had said little to each other, but at the end of their visit Hagrid had taken her hand and given her a warm farewell.
"It's only people who aren't observant who think Hagrid is negligible, Harry," said Ivy. "He's a friend of yours and Professor Dumbledore's, and he knows things. Important things that most people don't know." Secret knowledge earned Ivy's respect.
* * * * * * * *
At dinner that evening, it was Ron, for a change, whose appetite had deserted him. He frowned at his plate of spaghetti as if he had forgotten what he was supposed do with it.
"Too many cream cakes," Hermione diagnosed.
"Too much butterbeer," Neville opined.
"Too many feelings," Harry sympathized.
"Or could it be too much chess?" Ron inquired of his plate. "I haven't lost a chess match in years—not to someone younger than me, anyway. I'm not used to it."
But it wasn't the chess that was really bothering him, Harry was sure. When dinner was over, Ron moped around the Gryffindor common room and couldn't concentrate on his homework. After they had gone to bed, Harry could hear Ron moving restlessly. He listened to his friend sigh and mutter and flop over and punch his pillow for a while. Finally Harry put on his glasses, got out of bed and whispered, "Ron?" He shivered in the night chill and pulled on a dressing gown over his pajamas.
"Harry? You still awake?" Ron poked his head out from between his curtains. "C'mon in here."
Harry settled himself at the foot of Ron's bed and asked, "What's up?"
Ron pulled his blankets up around his shoulders and lit his wand just enough so they could see each other. They talked in whispers. "I can't stop thinking about Wormtail," Ron confessed. "I just keep seeing him in my mind, and I can almost feel him crawling around on me, the way he used to." Ron shuddered. "I want to strangle him, or maybe give him to Crookshanks to play with. For a good long time." Harry could just make out Ron's satisfied smile as he thought of how Hermione's pet cat would deal with Wormtail. "When I remember what he did to Neville's parents—and yours—I want him to suffer and die horribly. I get furious when I think what he did to Professor Snape—and I don't even like Professor Snape. But I can't get Wormtail out of my mind. It's like I'm possessed or something."
"I know what you mean," said Harry. "After Frank Longbottom told me about Wormtail, the same kind of thing happened to me. I imagined torturing him, over and over. After what he did, nothing seemed too horrible. But it didn't make me feel any better and I couldn't stop."
"But you came out of it, didn't you?"
"Yes, but it didn't really get better until I heard Ivy saying the same things I'd been thinking. She just lost it, and I felt better straight away. It's like anger at Wormtail is a hot potato that we're passing around. First me. Then Snape."
"And of course Snape took it out on you, in that charming way he has."
"Then Ivy, and then you," Harry went on. "And maybe it's worse for you because you kept him as a pet for so long."
"I don't want to think about it," said Ron stonily. "If I had known, I would have thrown him across the Channel when Percy gave him to me."
"Does Percy know anything …?" Harry ventured.
"No. And I'm not going to tell him. Anyway, Percy didn't have him very long and kept him in a cage."
Harry decided not to ask how Percy had come to own Scabbers, alias Wormtail. He leaned back against the footboard of Ron's bed.
"So who's left?" Ron asked rhetorically, studying the faint glow at the tip of his wand. "Hagrid, Hermione, and Neville. Neville's the obvious choice, but I wouldn't wish this on anyone. Why hasn't Neville taken a turn with the hot potato? Maybe he's just too nice." Ron rubbed one hand over his face. "I'm really tired."
"Buck up. Sometimes it helps to think about something else," said Harry. "Imagine how you're going to beat Ivy the next time you play chess."
"I tried that," said Ron. "All the chess pieces kept turning into Wormtail. Can't you just see it? Rat kings, and rat queens, and rat knights, all with whiskers and twitching little noses." Ron made a sound of disgust.
Harry hesitated, then said, "I still have some of the hellebore Hermione gave me. Keep it by your bed, but don't use it unless you have to. And you could try the Opposition Verse."
* * * * * * * *
The next morning Ron came down late, with circles under his eyes, just as the Gryffindor common room was emptying out for breakfast. Harry, Hermione, and Neville were waiting for him. "You look terrible, Ron," Hermione exclaimed. "Harry told us about—you know. How did you get through the night?"
"Well, I didn't take the hellebore," said Ron. "I tried the Opposition Verse, like you said, Harry, but it didn't work very well. In fact, it didn't work at all. What works is the other verse, the Sprinkling Can version. As soon as I hit on that I could send dear little Wormtail away. But by then it was pretty late."
"Good show, Ron," Harry approved. "That's the stuff. That could be a really good thing to know."
"Maybe you should come with Harry and me the next time we meet with Professor Snape," said Neville. "If you want to," he added.
"I'll have to think about that," said Ron, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
Hermione looked at Ron as a thought occurred to her. "That verse came from the Marauder's Map," she said, "and the Marauder's Map has part of Wormtail in it."
"I have a plan about that," said Harry. "Ron, stick around after Quidditch practice this afternoon."
They were only a few minutes late to breakfast, and Ron snoozed through his classes while the others covered for him. After a few whispered words of explanation to Hagrid, Neville even fed orange Jell-O with marshmallows to Ron's fire crab while Ron stretched out on Hagrid's bed. The jewels on the crabs were showing signs of mutating to match the colours of their meals. Hermione took detailed notes on the changes in hers.
"What are you going to do with all that?" Harry asked, peeking at her parchment.
"Make a graph," answered Hermione, scribbling busily. If Ron had been there he probably would have scoffed, but Harry found himself rather intrigued. He looked at his own fire crab, feasting on more raspberry Jell-O, with new interest. "If you want to give me information about yours, I can make a graph for it too," she offered.
"Sure, why not?" said Harry. "Thanks, Hermione." He fished in his bag for a quill and started taking some notes of his own. He and Draco Malfoy, serving lemon Jell-O to his fire crab, avoided each other pointedly.
AN: When I put Hagrid and Ivy in the same room, the affinity between them took me totally by surprise. I couldn't explain it. You'll find out more of what's behind it in Chapter 7, "Salazara." And when Ivy and Hermione actually meet, they get along fairly well; they have a lot in common. Most of the tension manifests itself between Ivy and Ron.