Chapter 1
The Letter
The letter arrived just about a week after he had begun his stay at the Weasley's house. It looked ordinary enough, yellowish parchment bound with a red ribbon, carried by a smallish tawny owl. No one could possibly suspect that with this letter lay the fate of the entire wizarding world, possibly even the muggle one as well.
Its contents were simple as well. The message was short and clear. Please. Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron at 5:00 next Friday in the private parlor. I need to talk to you badly. That was all. There was no signature, no words of explanation.
"So, you going, or what?" asked Ron, peering over his best friend's shoulder.
Harry paused a moment before answering, considering the possibilities. "Yes."
Ron plopped down onto his Quidditch covered bed. "I dunno, mate. Sounds a bit dodgy to me." He raised one scarlet eyebrow. "Could be another of You- Know-Who's plots to do you in. You remember what happened last time."
Harry's face tightened. He did remember what had happened last time. He remembered as though it had been only yesterday.
He looked over to Ron, and saw him eyeing him with a mixture of worry and apprehension on his face. "I'm sorry Harry, I didn't mean to-"
"It's all right," Harry said, a little too quickly, his face cracking painfully into a smile.
Relief washed over Ron's face. "Yeah......, so, err."
"I know perfectly well that it may be some sort of a trap," Harry continued. "Which is exactly why you're coming with me. We'll probably both die, but, that can't be helped, can it? At least they'll remember us as the brave, but stupid, souls who died all in the name of curiosity."
He watched in amusement as Ron was suddenly thrown into inner conflict. He was bound by loyalty to his friend and curious as to the letter's meaning. On the other hand, Ron's encounters with Voldemort hadn't exactly been pleasant. The scars from the brain's trail would never truly heal, and he had been slightly addled for weeks after.
He struggled to say something. "I....er.....well I......uh.....I am?
"Yes." Harry said firmly, struggling to hide his mirth. "And I'm sure that we can arrange to meet Hermione as well." He waited.
Ron's ears turned crimson. "Oh.......that'd be..........nice."
Harry broke out laughing. "I'm joking, Ron."
"Oh." said Ron, completely unable to hide his disappointment. "You suppose Hermione won't be able to meet us then?"
"I meant that it probably isn't a plan of Voldemort's," Harry explained, grinning hugely and completely ignoring Ron's involuntary flinch. "It's a bit too obvious. Even he knows I'd see through an idiotic plan like that."
"Unless he thought that you'd think that and be unaware that it was really a trap." remarked Fred, Apparating suddenly into the room, right next to Ron, who gave a little jump of surprise.
"But maybe he thought you'd think that he'd think that you'd think that it was a trap, so he wouldn't do it after all." argued George, appearing right beside his twin.
"But then he'd think that you'd think that he'd thought that you'd think that he thought that it wouldn't work, so he did it after all." Fred attempted to stolidly defend his case.
"Unless he thought that-"
"STOP!!!!" roared Harry. "I GET THE PICTURE!"
"You really need to learn how to control you're anger," announced Fred.
"I know a wonderful book," added George. "Called-"
"Anger Management for Dummies," his twin supplied.
"Chapter 1- Find Another Way to Express Your Anger."
"Like punching a pillow."
"Or tearing up parchment."
"Or beating up Malfoy."
"One of my personal favorites, that one."
"Or snogging Cho Ch-"
"Anyway, back to the original question," interrupted Harry, now slightly red. "Ron, I'm sure Hermione can come. And you're coming too, like it or not, right?"
"YES SIR!" chorused the twins. With a military salute, they turned and began to march out of the room. Halfway out the door, they Disapparated with double popping noises.
Ron rolled his eyes at Harry. "Those two, he said, managing to pack a lot of expression into those two words. "Mum was so angry when they left Hogwarts to start their joke shop."
"Bet she was." Harry agreed. "By the way, I think Fred and George left something next to you."
"'Course, she doesn't blame you," Ron grimaced and reached over to pick up the little bottle. "Perfect Harry Potter."
"Mm," said Harry, quite embarrassed. "What's that thing your brothers left?" he asked, eager to change the topic.
"Oh, just a bottle of ink," Ron said. He uncorked the vial and brought it closer to his face for better inspection. "An expensive bottle of ink," he conceded, sniffing it. "I'll go return it to them." He slid off the bed and began to cross the room. All of a sudden, he disappeared and was replaced by a giant, navy-blue octopus. Harry burst out laughing.
"Thanks," said George, Apparating into the room and grabbing the bottle from his brother's tentacle.
"Do all your inventions turn people into animals?" the octopus asked crossly.
"This doesn't only turn people into octopuses, or as Hermione would say 'Its octopi. Hasn't anyone read the Oxford Book of Correct English Grammar?'"
"Then what else does it do?"
"Good question. By the way, thanks for testing out our newest invention for us," George waved. "Bye." Without another word, he Disapparated.
"Great," complained the octopus. "Now how am I supposed to get this damn spell off me?"
***
"Right then," said Harry. He looked up at the front door of the Leaky Cauldron, attempting to build up his nerve. Muggles passed by, completely oblivious to the existence of the magical world, much less the squalid pub before them. "So, I guess I better go in then. Yeah."
"Do you want us to come in with you, Harry?" asked Hermione, concerned.
"No, that's okay. You two just wait for me in Diagon Alley, like we planned."
"Hey Harry," Ron called.
"What?"
"If you die, can I have your Firebolt?"
Harry ignored him. With a decisive shrug of his shoulders, he turned and started walking towards the front door, his face set, his wand easily accessible in his back pocket.
"Seriously mate, if this is really a plot of- of You-Know-Who's, how will we know to come and help you?" Ron asked.
"Oh," replied Harry airily. "I'll scream really loud right before he kills me so you know you've got to come and avenge me."
Ron rolled his eyes. "That was remarkably unhelpful."
"See you later."
Harry marched into the tiny, dimly lit pub. He wondered if it was foolish, to walk straight into a potential trap. What would Malfoy say if he found out? A surge on anger ran through him and his resolve strengthened.
"'Ello Mister Potter," cried Tom, rushing out from behind the counter to wring Harry's hand. As usual, everyone in the pub turned around to stare at The Boy Who Lived. "How good to see you again. What can I get you?"
"Nothing at the moment, thanks. I-I'm meeting someone."
"Ahhh yes. In the private parlor, right through there." He said, jerking a knobby finger towards a smallish black door at the back of the pub. "Yes. She's been waiting quite awhile."
She? thought Harry, perplexed. Nodding his thanks, he headed towards the door, uncomfortably aware of the fact that every eye in the bar was upon him. Reaching it, he paused for a moment, his hand on the door, considering. Its what Sirius would have done said a tiny voice in the back of his head. An even smaller voice told him that his doing things like this was what would keep Sirius from ever doing anything like this again. He ignored it, and opened the door.
***
It was Cho. She was seated in the back in one of the corner tables by the elaborate fireplace. Beside her lay an untouched plate of scones and a full flagon of Butterbeer. She was slightly pale, with dark circles under her almond shaped eyes. Her dark hair fell like an ominous cloud around her pallid face.
"Ch-Ch-Cho?!" Harry spluttered.
"Yes." she said, somewhat defiantly. "Cho."
"Wh-What are you doing here? Couldn't it have waited until school started?"
Her deep brown eyes filled with tears. "Is that all you have to say to me, Harry Potter?"
"I-I......I...well....should I say something else?"
"How about telling me you love me, that we were wrong to fight, and that you want to make everything up to me? That's what I've dreamed you'd say, ever since we fought."
"Wh-what about Michael Corner?"
"That was only to make you jealous. Don't you see Harry, there could never be anyone for me but you. Except perhaps..."
"Cedric."
The look on her face was unreadable.
"Listen Cho, I- I just don't like you that way. Maybe we can ... just be friends." Lame, he knew, but then, he lacked anything else to say. It was true, after all.
"But- but Harry, I thought..., I thought that, well, we were."
"No." he said firmly. "I'm sorry but no."
"So," she snapped, dark eyes flashing. "I'm not good enough for you, eh? Perhaps darling Hermione-"
"Hermione is not my girlfriend."
"Yeah?"
"I think I know who's my girlfriend and who isn't," snapped Harry, who was beginning to get really angry. "You're not, and you never will be!"
Cho gasped. "You- you- you-" Unable to find a suitable insult, she slapped him across the face, and stormed out of the room, managing to spill her Butterbeer all over the front of Harry's robes.
"Ow." said Harry, putting a hand to his stinging cheek. "Bitch." He glared at the swing door, then turned around and headed out the exit into the little alley way behind the shop.
Carefully tapping the bricks, he glowered at the partition in front of him. It slowly divided into the arched passageway he knew so well. Without one look back, he stepped through the doorway into a scene of complete and utter mayhem.
OA/N I was in a serious fic mode o_O! Anyway, review please. I'll update the others soon. L8ER!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Letter
The letter arrived just about a week after he had begun his stay at the Weasley's house. It looked ordinary enough, yellowish parchment bound with a red ribbon, carried by a smallish tawny owl. No one could possibly suspect that with this letter lay the fate of the entire wizarding world, possibly even the muggle one as well.
Its contents were simple as well. The message was short and clear. Please. Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron at 5:00 next Friday in the private parlor. I need to talk to you badly. That was all. There was no signature, no words of explanation.
"So, you going, or what?" asked Ron, peering over his best friend's shoulder.
Harry paused a moment before answering, considering the possibilities. "Yes."
Ron plopped down onto his Quidditch covered bed. "I dunno, mate. Sounds a bit dodgy to me." He raised one scarlet eyebrow. "Could be another of You- Know-Who's plots to do you in. You remember what happened last time."
Harry's face tightened. He did remember what had happened last time. He remembered as though it had been only yesterday.
He looked over to Ron, and saw him eyeing him with a mixture of worry and apprehension on his face. "I'm sorry Harry, I didn't mean to-"
"It's all right," Harry said, a little too quickly, his face cracking painfully into a smile.
Relief washed over Ron's face. "Yeah......, so, err."
"I know perfectly well that it may be some sort of a trap," Harry continued. "Which is exactly why you're coming with me. We'll probably both die, but, that can't be helped, can it? At least they'll remember us as the brave, but stupid, souls who died all in the name of curiosity."
He watched in amusement as Ron was suddenly thrown into inner conflict. He was bound by loyalty to his friend and curious as to the letter's meaning. On the other hand, Ron's encounters with Voldemort hadn't exactly been pleasant. The scars from the brain's trail would never truly heal, and he had been slightly addled for weeks after.
He struggled to say something. "I....er.....well I......uh.....I am?
"Yes." Harry said firmly, struggling to hide his mirth. "And I'm sure that we can arrange to meet Hermione as well." He waited.
Ron's ears turned crimson. "Oh.......that'd be..........nice."
Harry broke out laughing. "I'm joking, Ron."
"Oh." said Ron, completely unable to hide his disappointment. "You suppose Hermione won't be able to meet us then?"
"I meant that it probably isn't a plan of Voldemort's," Harry explained, grinning hugely and completely ignoring Ron's involuntary flinch. "It's a bit too obvious. Even he knows I'd see through an idiotic plan like that."
"Unless he thought that you'd think that and be unaware that it was really a trap." remarked Fred, Apparating suddenly into the room, right next to Ron, who gave a little jump of surprise.
"But maybe he thought you'd think that he'd think that you'd think that it was a trap, so he wouldn't do it after all." argued George, appearing right beside his twin.
"But then he'd think that you'd think that he'd thought that you'd think that he thought that it wouldn't work, so he did it after all." Fred attempted to stolidly defend his case.
"Unless he thought that-"
"STOP!!!!" roared Harry. "I GET THE PICTURE!"
"You really need to learn how to control you're anger," announced Fred.
"I know a wonderful book," added George. "Called-"
"Anger Management for Dummies," his twin supplied.
"Chapter 1- Find Another Way to Express Your Anger."
"Like punching a pillow."
"Or tearing up parchment."
"Or beating up Malfoy."
"One of my personal favorites, that one."
"Or snogging Cho Ch-"
"Anyway, back to the original question," interrupted Harry, now slightly red. "Ron, I'm sure Hermione can come. And you're coming too, like it or not, right?"
"YES SIR!" chorused the twins. With a military salute, they turned and began to march out of the room. Halfway out the door, they Disapparated with double popping noises.
Ron rolled his eyes at Harry. "Those two, he said, managing to pack a lot of expression into those two words. "Mum was so angry when they left Hogwarts to start their joke shop."
"Bet she was." Harry agreed. "By the way, I think Fred and George left something next to you."
"'Course, she doesn't blame you," Ron grimaced and reached over to pick up the little bottle. "Perfect Harry Potter."
"Mm," said Harry, quite embarrassed. "What's that thing your brothers left?" he asked, eager to change the topic.
"Oh, just a bottle of ink," Ron said. He uncorked the vial and brought it closer to his face for better inspection. "An expensive bottle of ink," he conceded, sniffing it. "I'll go return it to them." He slid off the bed and began to cross the room. All of a sudden, he disappeared and was replaced by a giant, navy-blue octopus. Harry burst out laughing.
"Thanks," said George, Apparating into the room and grabbing the bottle from his brother's tentacle.
"Do all your inventions turn people into animals?" the octopus asked crossly.
"This doesn't only turn people into octopuses, or as Hermione would say 'Its octopi. Hasn't anyone read the Oxford Book of Correct English Grammar?'"
"Then what else does it do?"
"Good question. By the way, thanks for testing out our newest invention for us," George waved. "Bye." Without another word, he Disapparated.
"Great," complained the octopus. "Now how am I supposed to get this damn spell off me?"
***
"Right then," said Harry. He looked up at the front door of the Leaky Cauldron, attempting to build up his nerve. Muggles passed by, completely oblivious to the existence of the magical world, much less the squalid pub before them. "So, I guess I better go in then. Yeah."
"Do you want us to come in with you, Harry?" asked Hermione, concerned.
"No, that's okay. You two just wait for me in Diagon Alley, like we planned."
"Hey Harry," Ron called.
"What?"
"If you die, can I have your Firebolt?"
Harry ignored him. With a decisive shrug of his shoulders, he turned and started walking towards the front door, his face set, his wand easily accessible in his back pocket.
"Seriously mate, if this is really a plot of- of You-Know-Who's, how will we know to come and help you?" Ron asked.
"Oh," replied Harry airily. "I'll scream really loud right before he kills me so you know you've got to come and avenge me."
Ron rolled his eyes. "That was remarkably unhelpful."
"See you later."
Harry marched into the tiny, dimly lit pub. He wondered if it was foolish, to walk straight into a potential trap. What would Malfoy say if he found out? A surge on anger ran through him and his resolve strengthened.
"'Ello Mister Potter," cried Tom, rushing out from behind the counter to wring Harry's hand. As usual, everyone in the pub turned around to stare at The Boy Who Lived. "How good to see you again. What can I get you?"
"Nothing at the moment, thanks. I-I'm meeting someone."
"Ahhh yes. In the private parlor, right through there." He said, jerking a knobby finger towards a smallish black door at the back of the pub. "Yes. She's been waiting quite awhile."
She? thought Harry, perplexed. Nodding his thanks, he headed towards the door, uncomfortably aware of the fact that every eye in the bar was upon him. Reaching it, he paused for a moment, his hand on the door, considering. Its what Sirius would have done said a tiny voice in the back of his head. An even smaller voice told him that his doing things like this was what would keep Sirius from ever doing anything like this again. He ignored it, and opened the door.
***
It was Cho. She was seated in the back in one of the corner tables by the elaborate fireplace. Beside her lay an untouched plate of scones and a full flagon of Butterbeer. She was slightly pale, with dark circles under her almond shaped eyes. Her dark hair fell like an ominous cloud around her pallid face.
"Ch-Ch-Cho?!" Harry spluttered.
"Yes." she said, somewhat defiantly. "Cho."
"Wh-What are you doing here? Couldn't it have waited until school started?"
Her deep brown eyes filled with tears. "Is that all you have to say to me, Harry Potter?"
"I-I......I...well....should I say something else?"
"How about telling me you love me, that we were wrong to fight, and that you want to make everything up to me? That's what I've dreamed you'd say, ever since we fought."
"Wh-what about Michael Corner?"
"That was only to make you jealous. Don't you see Harry, there could never be anyone for me but you. Except perhaps..."
"Cedric."
The look on her face was unreadable.
"Listen Cho, I- I just don't like you that way. Maybe we can ... just be friends." Lame, he knew, but then, he lacked anything else to say. It was true, after all.
"But- but Harry, I thought..., I thought that, well, we were."
"No." he said firmly. "I'm sorry but no."
"So," she snapped, dark eyes flashing. "I'm not good enough for you, eh? Perhaps darling Hermione-"
"Hermione is not my girlfriend."
"Yeah?"
"I think I know who's my girlfriend and who isn't," snapped Harry, who was beginning to get really angry. "You're not, and you never will be!"
Cho gasped. "You- you- you-" Unable to find a suitable insult, she slapped him across the face, and stormed out of the room, managing to spill her Butterbeer all over the front of Harry's robes.
"Ow." said Harry, putting a hand to his stinging cheek. "Bitch." He glared at the swing door, then turned around and headed out the exit into the little alley way behind the shop.
Carefully tapping the bricks, he glowered at the partition in front of him. It slowly divided into the arched passageway he knew so well. Without one look back, he stepped through the doorway into a scene of complete and utter mayhem.
OA/N I was in a serious fic mode o_O! Anyway, review please. I'll update the others soon. L8ER!!!!!!!!!!!!