Just One of the Boys *** A Harry Potter fanfic by bishkat
This story is based on the Harry Potter series of books by J. K. Rowling. Most characters, and their attendant flaws and failings, are hers, not mine. I'm not making money for writing this, so don't sue me. I don't have anything worth suing for, anyhow!
This story contains material that is probably objectionable to some people; this includes "alternate" sexuality, people behaving in highly unethical (some would say "evil") ways, and...well, Harry and the gang are 16 now. That's the age of consent in some countries, so while there's not going to be any explicit sex in this story, there will be all sorts of innuendo and dealing with matters of sexuality. If you don't like to even think that someone might fancy a person of the same sex, consider being intimate with more than one person at a time, or any number of other things that are outside of "church-approved" sexuality, this fic will likely not be for you. If you review and complain about anything mentioned above, it's not my fault that you've read beyond this point.
Also, I'm an American. I will endeavour to use British spellings as I write, but that isn't always possible (even though I learned my spelling in a region of the country where we were taught both standard and American spellings of many words). If you see that I've erred, be kind in pointing it out. ^.^
This is my first fic that I've posted in a widely read venue such as this one. Please be kind and constructive in criticisms.
I hope that you enjoy reading this fic as much as I have enjoyed working on it.
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Just One of the Boys
by bishkat
Chapter 1 - The Welcome End of Another Summer
The knock that Harry had been waiting for sounded throughout number four, Privet Drive, cutting through the heavy, silent tension. Two weeks earlier he had received a letter by owl-post. Dumbledore had informed him that Moody and Tonks would be coming this night to escort him to number twelve, Grimmauld Place, where he would meet up with the Weasley family, and Hermione, for the final week of the summer holidays. The Order of the Phoenix was still using the old Black home as their headquarters, even after Sirius's death; and Molly Weasley was caring for the house when Remus couldn't.
Harry was looking forward to getting away. The summer was tense, as always. The Dursleys still did not seem to approve of Harry, or his being in their home. Aunt Petunia seemed to have softened some after last summer. It was almost a silent acknowledgment of her thanks to Harry for protecting Dudley from the dementors, even though she knew that the creatures wouldn't have set foot (did they have feet?) near Dudley if Harry weren't around. But she'd made a promise to take on her sister's son, and she knew she could not break it. The veiled hostility, however, was almost as bad as Uncle Vernon's outright resentment.
Uncle Vernon cast an ugly, loathing look at Harry as he rose to answer the door. A muffled voice from the other side said "never you mind, Dursley. He'll be out of your home soon enough." Harry recognized the gruff voice of Mad-Eye Moody, a retired Auror from the Ministry of Magic and member of the Order of the Phoenix, and worked hard to suppress a chuckle.
As Uncle Vernon opened the door, he stuck his head out, casting quick glances up and down the street before quickly ushering Harry's escorts into the house. "Hurry in, before the neighbours spot you," Uncle Vernon pleaded. Harry rose from his spot at the dinner table and quickly moved to greet Moody and Tonks, who was looking like a middle-aged mother with golden-blonde hair tonight, shaking their hands eagerly. Aunt Petunia looked away from the scene, not sure whether the relief she felt at being rid of her sister's son was more powerful than her revulsion at having the wizarding folk in her living room.
"My, Harry, you're surely growing into a handsome young man, you are," said Tonks, smiling as she appraised her charge. "And you favour your father more and more with time. Sirius would be proud, that is for sure." Tonks felt her smile fade with Harry's as she mentioned her recently deceased cousin, who had also been Harry's beloved godfather.
"I'll run and fetch my things so that we can be on our way," said Harry as he headed towards the stairs. As he began to climb them, he heard voices again from downstairs.
"We'd like to thank you both, once again, for taking Harry in for the summer," Moody said. "It really is important that he spend much of the summer here, especially now that the man who killed his parents has returned. It is only here where he is absolutely safe."
"Well, no need to thank me," Uncle Vernon blustered. "Were it up to me, he'd have been out on his ear a long time ago. Thank Petunia, as she's the one who insisted on taking him in to begin with. He's been naught but troubles ever since."
"Now, Vernon..." Aunt Petunia began, before she was cut off by a withering look from Uncle Vernon.
"Regardless of who it is to whom we owe thanks, we really do appreciate that you've taken him in," Tonks filled in. "Soon your obligation will be through, and you shalln't be bothered by Harry again. I am sure he will only be too glad to be rid of you both as well. And your son, for that matter." Dudley Dursley was not present, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia saw to it, given Dudley's previous encounters with witches and wizards.
It was then that Harry began to descend the stairs with his school trunk, and his owl Hedwig, in her cage set atop the trunk. "Allow us to help you with that," said Mad-eye, who produced his wand and levitated the trunk and cage. A look of mild irritation filled Hedwig's eyes as the trunk and cage slowly floated to the foot of the stairs.
"Very well, then," said Moody. "We'll be off, now. We shall see you once again when the summer holidays are to start next year." He touched a finger to brim of his bowler, where he had pulled it low over his magical eye.
Harry reached into his trunk and pulled out his Firebolt, which Sirius had given to him as a Christmas gift nearly three years earlier. Then he grabbed one handle and Tonks grabbed the other, and they headed out the door, Moody in the lead, looking to see that the way was clear. Once they had walked through, Uncle Vernon quickly shut the door behind them. At the same time three people riding broomsticks; one with the large silhouette of Kingsley Shacklebolt; came in low. This would be the remainder of Harry's escort. Moody, Tonks and Harry mounted their brooms, kicked off of the ground and rose to meet them. The party then turned northeast, towards the lights of London, and towards number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
********
Harry and his guard touched down on the cul-de-sac of Grimmauld Place, and soon number twelve appeared, squeezing aside numbers eleven and thirteen. The sight was now becoming a familiar one to Harry, this being his third trip to the house serving as the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Tonks knocked on the door, and hardly a second later it opened; Hermione's beaming face appearing as it did. "Oh, Harry," Hermione cried. "It's so nice to see you again. Only being able to write you is never quite the same." From behind Hermione there came screaming noises, and it didn't take long for Harry to realize that the portrait of Sirius's mother still hung behind the curtain in the hallway.
Before everyone had been able to squeeze into the entryway of the home, Molly Weasley, Ron's mother, was already hurrying over. "Who disturbed the portrait? Was it you Ronald? Ginny?" Ron cast an annoyed glance at his mother, seeming to reproach her for accusing him before all others.
"No, it's my fault, Mrs. Weasley. I was just so excited to see Harry," Hermione confessed. "I had completely forgotten about the portrait. Please pardon me."
"Bloody typical, I tell you! You're lucky I'm not alive anymore, Mudblood! I'd teach you to forget about me, yes I would," screamed the portrait. Harry found himself wishing there were a portrait of Sirius about the house. He felt assured that his godfather's image would move into the old lady's portrait to quiet her. Gag her, even; if need be. However, Harry was certain that any portraits of Sirius that had been in the house were disposed of the day that Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor; or whenever it was that his name had been burnt from the family tree.
"Hermione, Ron; you help Harry up with his things. Same rooms as before," Molly ordered. One thing was for certain, guiding a family of nine had taught her how to take charge and give out orders. Sure, Percy had turned up to be a bit of a prat, trusting Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, before his own family; and Fred and George hadn't turned out as Molly would have liked, but they were decent enough, and even somewhat respectable entrepreneurs. Even with those faults there were no Weasleys in Azkaban, or in the Death Eaters, and they all were all Gryffindors. To top that all, four had been prefects, and Ginny had a good shot at being named prefect for her year.
Harry handed Hedwig, in her cage, to Hermione, and then he and Ron grabbed either handle on the trunk and carried it up the stairs. Upon entering the boys' room, Harry looked to the portrait frame on the wall, hoping to see that Sirius's great-great-grandfather, Phineas Nigellus, was present. The empty portrait indicated that he was in his frame at Dumbledore's office, however. Perhaps Phineas would appear later, but Harry wasn't holding out much hope of that.
********
As the week went on, the kids teased and joked with each other mercilessly. The bickering was beginning to drive Molly to her wits' edge, and she was thankful to see the week coming to a close. Ron especially liked to tease Hermione about her relationship with Viktor Krumm, the Bulgarian quidditch hero, and Durmstrang graduate whom represented that school in the Triwizard Tournament a year and a half before. The teasing seemed to only be encouraged when Ron noticed how it got under Hermione's skin.
With Hermione seemingly unwilling to respond to Ron's barbs, Ginny usually found herself defending her from the taunts. Ginny's favourite defence usually took the form of reminding Ron that there was someone who was sufficiently attracted to Hermione that they'd ask her out. What's more, not only would they ask her out, but they would pay attention to her when they spent time together, rather than sulking and paying more attention to their best friend. Ginny was still more than a little bit sore at the fact that neither Ron, nor Harry, seemed to understand how miserable they had made their dates for the Yule Ball; Padma and Parvati Patil, respectively; by behaving as though they'd prefer to be in Potions with Snape throughout that evening. Sometimes she wondered how she and Ron could have come from the same parents.
After the latest round of teasing, just before bed on the fifth night in the Black house, Hermione seemed especially upset. In fact, she hadn't seemed herself since a letter arrived in the owl post that morning, rather unexpectedly. After being on the receiving end of some of Ron's meaner taunts, it seemed like as though Hermione was going to cry before adopting an unusual icy demeanor for the remainder of the evening. When Ron saw he could get no further under her skin, he tried to switch his focus to Ginny, who just let the jibes roll off of her. With his fun cut short, Ron asked Harry to join him in their room for a game of wizard's chess before going to bed, and Harry agreed. After the boys had left the drawing room, Hermione suggested that she and Ginny head to their room as well, and Ginny joined her.
After the girls had gotten ready for bed, Hermione asked Ginny to sit down. At that point Hermione produced an envelope, the one from that morning's owl post, and handed it to Ginny, with tears in her eyes. "Please don't tell the boys; especially not Ron; about this. He would be even meaner if he knew."
Ginny read the words, written by Viktor, and tears began to build in her own eyes. "He couldn't have, the worm! Just because you don't like his stupid bloody game enough to cross Europe and watch him play all the time? Doesn't he realize that you are still in school, and that you have important things that you need to be doing? Especially considering that the season runs the same time as classes. If he wants to break up with you because you put your studies in front of him, and he cannot understand why you would, well," Ginny's voice got a cold, steely resolve at this point, "you are much better off without him."
Hermione began to cry audibly at those words, but seemed unable to say anything. "I know that it seems awful right now, 'Mione. You've been with him for almost two years. That's a long time! But after a long time like that, it seems like a really stupid thing to break up with you over, too." Hermione half-shrugged in response. "Don't worry, I won't say anything to the boys. Ron would have too much fun with this. But I think you can tell Harry. He's not totally clueless; just mostly so."
Hermione hugged Ginny and cried into her shoulder for a while, Ginny comforting her by gently stroking her back. After about twenty minutes Hermione whispered raspy into Ginny's ear, "thank you so much. It's nice to have a girl friend that I can talk to about these things. The boys would never understand, and they seem to be the ones I spend most of my time with. The girls in my year seem too self-absorbed, too. They'd probably think I was crazy for choosing school over Viktor."
"Well, they have their priorities all wrong. And just know that you can talk to me about anything. I know that some things you just can't talk to Harry and Ron about." Ginny smiled to Hermione, who returned a weak smile. "Let's get some rest, since we're going to be off to Diagon Alley tomorrow. Maybe a little sleep will have you feeling better."
The girls lay back in their beds and snuffed the lights. Ginny drifted off to sleep feeling strangely happy about her ability to be there for Hermione at a time when she was most needed. And Ginny resolved herself to make sure that Ron and Harry didn't give Hermione a hard time when they did find out that Viktor had broken it off with Hermione. She was sure that Ron would find a way to make it all Hermione's fault, too. Ron was so clueless when it came to girls.
********
Harry woke with a start. He had the most bizarre dream that he could recall. It wasn't one of the unusually vivid dreams he would have when seeing what Voldemort was planting in his mind, and he didn't wake up to a headache radiating from his scar, either. In fact, the more conscious he became the more the memory of the dream faded. He wished that he had some parchment and a quill at hand so that he could write down what he remembered. He laughed to himself when he thought about how absurd dream journals seemed when Professor Trelawney wanted their Divination class to keep them, and here he actually wanted to write down a dream that he had had. Perhaps it was because it wasn't one of those nightmares or mysteries that Voldemort sent to him.
Harry reached over to the nightstand for his glasses. It was daylight out, and he thought that he could hear some movement. Maybe he could find some parchment to write upon before he forgot the dream. He got out of bed, put on his slippers, and made his way down out of the room towards the stairs. As he neared the landing, a nearby door caught his eye and he had an idea.
He stepped into the drawing room, which was looking much better than it had a year previously, before the hours that they had put into cleaning it; or more exactly Sirius and Molly had put in. Harry spent most of the cleaning time thinking about everything other than the task at hand, and realized that he was not all that much help, probably. But it was in those days that Sirius had also taught him about the history of the Black family, and described how he was the black sheep of the family. Or in this case, since it was the Black family, would Sirius have been the white sheep?
Harry thought that the drawing room would be a good place to look for parchment. He remembered the writing desk, the one that had had the boggart in it, and headed for it. He found parchment in the lowest drawer. There were quills in the topmost drawer, as well as jars of ink. Harry inked a quill and set to writing.
"29 August - I woke from the strangest dream. It is already growing fuzzy in my mind, so I had better get this down quickly. We were back at school, but for some reason Hermione wasn't anywhere about. Whenever I would ask about Hermione, people would look at me like I was daft; like I'd gone off my rocker. I felt at a loss, because she wasn't there to balance Ron. The both are my best friends, and they complement each other so well that, when they've fought in the past and I've not had both at hand, I've felt ill at ease. That is the feeling that this dream has left me with. I do hope that nothing bad will befall Hermione during this year."
Harry folded up the parchment, put the quill away and headed back to the bedroom. He'd just tucked the parchment away in his trunk and gently closed the lid when Ron awoke. "Good morning, mate. Fancy some breakfast?" Harry smiled and nodded, still not feeling entirely comfortable.
********
The owl post arrived as everyone was finishing up his or her breakfast. The book lists for the new year arrived, as expected. Ginny's envelope held the expected; another prefect's badge for another Weasley. Ginny's eyes widened a bit as she looked at it. "I was sure that my first year was going to keep me from getting prefect. I was certain." She was probably the only one at the table who felt that way, however.
A moment later, Bill, the oldest Weasley boy, entered the kitchen. "Mum, we need to hurry to catch the bus to the Leaky Cauldron. I figured you would have these louts whipped into shape and waiting by the door."
"Well, the post just arrived Bill. We couldn't very well leave before it came now, could we?" Mrs. Weasley's chiding look softened as Bill began to laugh. "Oh, and you'll want to see what your sister has in her hand there."
Bill peered over Ginny's shoulder as she looked up meekly, still mildly disbelieving. He clapped her on the shoulder and smiled a warm, loving smile. "Holding up the family tradition, I see! Brilliant, Ginny! I wonder what Fred and George will have to say? Oh, and Mum, the twins are going to meet us at the Cauldron. They said that they were treating us all to lunch."
"Oh, Bill, I wish they wouldn't. They need to save their money, and I can very well pay for everyone's lunch." Molly still thought that the twins were going to starve, having chosen running a joke shop for their choice of careers. Instead, they were quite successful. Once word had spread about their actions at Hogwart's before their dismissal it impressed others as much as it had embarrassed Molly. Their shop was buried in orders and they did a brisk walk-up business in their Diagon Alley shop.
"Mum, they're fine. I see them in Gringott's at least twice a week, and they're never withdrawing money. If they wish to treat everyone to lunch, let them. They want you to be proud of them." Bill's eyes were serious, even as he still smiled.
"Ah, very well. I know that if they've set their minds on it, they will see to it that I allow them to pay. But they really should be saving their money. Okay, the rest of you, hurry and get dressed, or we'll miss that bus." Molly began to shoo the others away from the table and towards the stairs.
********
Everyone was well satisfied with the lunches they had eaten at the Leaky Cauldron, and Molly forced herself to admit that Fred and George seemed to be getting on well. They invited everyone to come by their shop that afternoon, where they would get a tour of the facility. When Molly asked how they could manage to take time out for the lunch, they matter-of-factly responded that they had hired on a couple of clerks. "Best decision we have made, too," said Fred (or was it George). He added, "it's given us more time to work on new items for the shop and to replenish our stocks."
After getting up from the table everyone headed out the back door, where Bill opened the gateway to Diagon Alley. "We're all going to have to go to Gringott's with Bill. Take care Fred, George, and we'll stop by later, should we have time." Molly still sounded unsure that she wanted to see the twins' business, as it would seem a sort of final approval of their career choice. But she wanted to seem at least somewhat conciliatory, as well.
"Okay, Mum, we'll look forward to it," chorused the twins. They smiled and gave Molly a quick hug, then turned in the direction of their shop. As they walked away, they seemed to conspire between themselves, perhaps planning the latest in their line of pranks. The rest of the group headed across the crowded street and headed up the stairs into Gringott's.
Once in the lobby of Gringott's; Molly, Harry and Hermione queued up for service. Hermione was simply changing Muggle pounds and pence for wizarding money, and before long would be able to rejoin Ron and Ginny in the lobby. Before meeting up with them, she informed Molly that the three of them would head out to Flourish & Blott's, and that she'd be able to meet up with them there. "Very well, as long as you don't allow them to drag you into Quality Quidditch Supplies. They'll beg you to buy them everything in the store," Molly warned.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley. There's nothing that store has that could interest me," said Hermione, who then proceeded to the lobby. Mrs. Weasley redirected her attention to the queue, softly yelping in apologetic embarrassment that she'd not noticed as the queue moved forward while she talked to Hermione.
********
Harry and Molly returned from the vaults at roughly the same time, and emerged from Gringott's together. "Harry, what do you think Ginny would fancy for a gift, now that she's prefect? Something from Quality Quidditch Supplies, perhaps? Do you imagine that she'll still be on the Gryffindor team?"
"I think she would be, Mrs. Weasley. Even though my suspension has been lifted, the team is still in need of Chasers, and we really could use better Beaters than the fellows who replaced Fred and George. In fact, I think that Angelina expected that Ginny would become a Chaser should my suspension ever be lifted," Harry responded. "Perhaps a broomstick maintenance kit would be a good idea. As a Chaser, it would be brilliant if she were able to keep her stick in top flying condition."
"Oh, Harry, that's a very good idea. I think that I'll get her that, and perhaps a small owl so that she and Ron each have their own." Molly suddenly realized that it was much easier to afford little extras for her children now that there were only two to buy for. That realization brought tears to her eyes.
"Are you okay, Mrs. Weasley," Harry asked, noticing the tears.
Molly composed herself quickly, wiping the tears away. "Oh, yes, Harry. Quite fine. Just some dust in my eyes, is all," was her response, not at all convincing Harry that she was being honest. "Why don't you run along and join the others, and tell them that I will be with you shortly."
"Yes, ma'am, if you're sure it will be fine." Harry felt relieved that someone seemed to trust him to be able to handle himself for more than five seconds without supervision. After all, he was 16 now, and the Muggle government would entrust him to drive an automobile. And to top it off, he had scored top marks on this Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. There was no reason to think that Harry was still a child in need of protection, and he was glad to feel the freedom he hadn't been allowed since Voldemort's return.
Passing Weasley's Wizard Wheezes on the way to Flourish & Blott's demonstrated to Harry just why it was that Fred and George were doing so well. There was a crowd inside the shop, and the people he was seeing coming out all had at least one bag; and were laughing as they did so. Harry continued to look over at the shop, longer than was prudent in the crowded street, and only looked away just in time to knock over a young girl, who was looking a bit bewildered.
"Oh, very sorry," Harry said, helping the girl up. "Are your parents about?"
The girl looked at Harry, slightly puzzled, as though trying to work a problem out in her mind, and then realization dawned upon her. When she began to speak, it was in a thick accent that Harry couldn't quite place. It wasn't quite Germanic, nor was it guttural enough to be Slavic, based on Harry's experiences with the Durmstrang students two years earlier. "Ah! Mama és Papa, over there," she replied pointing over Harry's shoulder towards Gringott's. The girl, who looked to be about the proper age for a first year, seemed to only rise to Harry's chin, making her slightly shorter than average for her age. She also had pale skin and dark hair, as well as a peculiar style of dress. She brushed some dirty from her long black skirt, smiled slightly at Harry and said, "Elnézést. I must be catching up with Mama és Papa, or they will be upset. I not bother you more." Before Harry could even ask her name, the girl ran off in the direction she had indicated, then disappeared into the crowd.
"Odd bird, that girl," Harry thought. "And what would a student from another school; Durmstrang or wherever; be doing here in Diagon Alley? Do they carry books for other schools here? Or maybe they're just tourists." Harry felt that the girl would cross his path again, but he wasn't sure why, and that left him feeling uncomfortable.
As he approached the door of Flourish & Blott's, Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin sixth-year and prefect, was emerging with a scowl on her face. It didn't brighten any when she saw Harry, either. Harry figured Pansy must have run into Hermione inside. The two girls did not mix well, and their relationship was only slightly better than Harry's relationship with Draco Malfoy. As Harry passed Pansy, he was sure he heard her mutter something that sounded like "just you wait, she'll get hers." Suddenly Harry had a feeling that there was going to be more to worry about in the coming school year than just Voldemort. His discomfort was mounting.
********
Hermione not only looked frustrated, she was. Pansy Parkinson just had to try and cause a scene in the middle of Flourish & Blott's. Of course, Hermione wasn't sure why she should have expected any different; after all, it's not like Pansy missed the chance to try and goad Hermione into some sort of action at school, so why would Diagon Alley be any different? Perhaps it was the thought that being outside of school, in the midst of the wizarding public, would give Pansy pause. Hermione supposed that she was being a bit naive to expect that, though.
"C'mon, 'Mione, let's go to Quality Quidditch Supplies. We'll be back in time to meet Mum. She's gonna be forever," complained Ron.
"Ron, Mum said to stay here. Besides, she hasn't even asked yet what I wanted for my gift for making prefect. I was going to ask for an owl, or maybe a cat if an owl was too much," replied Ginny, noticing Hermione's annoying at Ron's begging.
"Ginny is right, Ron. Your mother asked me to promise that we would stay right here."
"Oh, look at how the prefects stick together, and stick to the rules and to promises. You guys are no fun!"
"You're a prefect, too," responded the girls in unison. No sooner had the words passed their lips than Hermoine spotted Harry walking into the store, and her countenance brightened. Hermione stood on her tiptoes to be more visible above the crowd and waved to Harry, trying to get his attention. Once he'd smiled to her in acknowledgment, Hermione returned her attention to Ron.
"Harry's here now, so your mother is probably going to be here in a couple of minutes, as well, just hold tight," Hermione added.
"Hermione, I take it that you and Pansy ran into each other," asked Harry as he joined the others.
"Of course. But how did you know," Hermione returned.
"Oh, I passed her as I was coming to the store, and she was muttering something about some girl getting hers, and you were the first person who came to mind."
Hermione's face fell at Harry's recounting of Pansy's words. "Yeah, she was being all cryptic about Ravenclaws being useful, unlike Gryffindors, and other stuff that didn't make much sense. She also was saying something about how Snape should be the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor this year, for certain; and that he'd be sure that we didn't get the same level of instruction that the Slytherins did. She was just being her usual self, in other words. Mean and conceited."
"Don't forget ugly, too," added Ron, none too helpfully.
"I wonder what she's on about then," Harry replied. "But I looked over the book list when we were coming to the Leaky Cauldron, and there was nothing that I had seen that indicated Snape would be teaching Defence. The one book is titled 'Vampires, Werewolves, and other Transylvanian "Horrors"', by some bloke named Georg Mihaly. If the author's name weren't so strange, I'd almost think that Dumbledore'd gone off his rocker and hired Lupin on again."
"You don't suppose that he did do that, do you," Ron asked, looking hopeful. "He's the best Defence teacher we've ever had!"
"No, I don't think that Dumbledore would have. I don't think that Fudge would let him get away with it," Harry said, sadness in his voice. "Stupid people and their dumb prejudices. I wonder who will be the professor, though. This will be six professors in as many years! How do they expect us to be able to pass our N.E.W.T.s? Just as long as this year isn't as strange as today has been. Like I just run into a girl outside, literally. She seemed to be in her own little world at the time, and she had a strange accent. Almost like Viktor's," Ron winced at the mention of the name, "but not quite right. You don't suppose that they sell books for Durmstrang here, do they?"
"I don't think so," Hermione said. "That is kind of strange that a Durmstrang student would be here to shop." Hermione would have continued, but she stopped when she spotted Mrs. Weasley entering the store with a cage in one hand and a package under the other arm.
"Ginny, dear," began Mrs. Weasley, "I thought I'd surprise you with your gifts for making prefect." Ginny turned to face her mother, and nearly squealed when she saw the cage, and the beautiful barn owl inside.
"Oh, thank you so much, Mum! Thank you, thank you," Ginny effused, throwing her arms around Mrs. Weasley's neck with such excitement that she nearly knocked her mother down.
"That's only a part, though," Mrs. Weasley interrupted.
"She gets TWO presents? That's unfair, Mum! I only got the broomstick," objected Ron.
"Yes, but since Ginny already has a broomstick, I figured that I should get her two presents. If you want, we can go to Quality Quidditch Supplies later and pick something up for you, too. Maybe a Chudley Cannons replica robe? Now, let's buy your books and we'll take everything back to the Cauldron."
********
The brood was tromping their way into Quality Quidditch Supplies when the clerk looked over with a "back so soon" glance at Mrs. Weasley. Molly made her way directly to the replica robes for the various local and national sides while the others browsed around.
Harry found an information guide for Puddlemere United that showed former Gryffindor keeper and captain, Oliver Wood, making a fantastic save on the cover. Ginny was admiring a calendar featuring the Irish national team, winners of the World Quidditch Cup two years previously. And Ron dragged Hermione to the posters, where he pointed out a poster portraying Viktor Krumm flying a Wrontski Feint. "Well, if it isn't your boyfriend, 'Mione," Ron said. "Want me to buy it for you? You can post it over your bed so you can stare at him dreamily every night."
Hermione didn't object or argue with Ron. Instead, she just ran from the store. Harry caught sight of her, then looked at Ron. Ron flashed Harry a puzzled shrug. Harry gave Ron an annoying look, then quickly made his way out of the store. When he caught up with Hermione, he noticed her head was in her hands. "What's wrong, Hermione? Was it something that Ron said?"
Hermione only sobbed in response.
"C'mon, Hermione. How am I supposed to help you if you don't say anything to me."
"I'm sorry, Harry. I...I...it's just hard for me to talk about. Nobody would understand."
"Try me, Hermione. You might be surprised."
"But, no offence Harry, but you've not had a serious relationship before. You just wouldn't understand. Really."
"Okay, I may not understand. But I can listen, and I can try to understand. So it was what Ron said, about you having the poster of Viktor, then?"
Hermione nodded, her eyes red and swollen. "Harry, it was so mean!"
Harry looked at Hermione, slightly nonplused. "Mean? Well, I suppose that it was. But you and Viktor are dating, and you don't get to see him much. Ron probably thought he was being funny."
"No, Harry. Don't tell Ron, but, um...Viktor and I...we broke up. He came to visit on holiday, and it was nice and all, but it just wasn't as exciting as it used to be. And he was talking about nothing but quidditch, and the coming season, and how hard he had to train. I couldn't pretend to be interested anymore. And he said that if I couldn't be happy for him, and I couldn't take interest in what was important to him, that we probably should see other people. And he sent a letter in owl post breaking it off all together. It hurt Harry. I felt like if I would have put in more effort, it wouldn't have happened. It's all my fault."
"Now, that's not true, Hermione. I think that the fact you even tried to follow a sport that you think is dumb; why any guy who doesn't appreciate that, he's just barmy." Harry wiped some tears from Hermione's eyes. "Besides, he should like you for who you are, not for you to be some screaming fan-girl in the stands."
"I know you're right, Harry. It's just so hard."
"You'll find someone who will appreciate you for who you are. I know that there are plenty of guys at school who already do."
"Who? Certainly no one in Gryffindor. They all think I'm a bossy, nosy bookworm. Except Neville, but that would be like dating my brother, if I had one."
"Well, I don't think I should name any names, but I know for a fact that a few of the boys have been interested in you in the past. It's simply a matter of their being too stupid to say anything about it. Or too stupid to be able to say the right things, any way." As Harry finished his words, the little bell over the door rang, and the Weasleys came out, Ron beaming with a bag in his hands. "They're out of the store now. Try to smile and make the best of the rest of the day, okay?"
"All right Harry, but that doesn't make him any less of a git."
Ron just about scared Hermione out of her skin as he stepped up behind her and asked, "who's a git, now? Didn't see Malfoy out here, did you?" Hermione rolled her eyes to Harry, who gave a weak smile.
---To be continued---
Author's notes:
"és" - Hungarian word meaning "and"
"Elnézést" - Hungarian word meaning "Thank you"
These words were used because a person who is relatively new to a language and not exactly fluent just yet, will tend to use familiar phrases in their first language in conversational situations, expecting people to understand them based on context. One need not speak French to understand that if a French person says "merci" after you've helped them that "merci" likely means "thank you." The same thing is going on here. Don't worry, this will probably be some of the very little Hungarian that I'll ever use in this story. ^.^
This story is based on the Harry Potter series of books by J. K. Rowling. Most characters, and their attendant flaws and failings, are hers, not mine. I'm not making money for writing this, so don't sue me. I don't have anything worth suing for, anyhow!
This story contains material that is probably objectionable to some people; this includes "alternate" sexuality, people behaving in highly unethical (some would say "evil") ways, and...well, Harry and the gang are 16 now. That's the age of consent in some countries, so while there's not going to be any explicit sex in this story, there will be all sorts of innuendo and dealing with matters of sexuality. If you don't like to even think that someone might fancy a person of the same sex, consider being intimate with more than one person at a time, or any number of other things that are outside of "church-approved" sexuality, this fic will likely not be for you. If you review and complain about anything mentioned above, it's not my fault that you've read beyond this point.
Also, I'm an American. I will endeavour to use British spellings as I write, but that isn't always possible (even though I learned my spelling in a region of the country where we were taught both standard and American spellings of many words). If you see that I've erred, be kind in pointing it out. ^.^
This is my first fic that I've posted in a widely read venue such as this one. Please be kind and constructive in criticisms.
I hope that you enjoy reading this fic as much as I have enjoyed working on it.
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Just One of the Boys
by bishkat
Chapter 1 - The Welcome End of Another Summer
The knock that Harry had been waiting for sounded throughout number four, Privet Drive, cutting through the heavy, silent tension. Two weeks earlier he had received a letter by owl-post. Dumbledore had informed him that Moody and Tonks would be coming this night to escort him to number twelve, Grimmauld Place, where he would meet up with the Weasley family, and Hermione, for the final week of the summer holidays. The Order of the Phoenix was still using the old Black home as their headquarters, even after Sirius's death; and Molly Weasley was caring for the house when Remus couldn't.
Harry was looking forward to getting away. The summer was tense, as always. The Dursleys still did not seem to approve of Harry, or his being in their home. Aunt Petunia seemed to have softened some after last summer. It was almost a silent acknowledgment of her thanks to Harry for protecting Dudley from the dementors, even though she knew that the creatures wouldn't have set foot (did they have feet?) near Dudley if Harry weren't around. But she'd made a promise to take on her sister's son, and she knew she could not break it. The veiled hostility, however, was almost as bad as Uncle Vernon's outright resentment.
Uncle Vernon cast an ugly, loathing look at Harry as he rose to answer the door. A muffled voice from the other side said "never you mind, Dursley. He'll be out of your home soon enough." Harry recognized the gruff voice of Mad-Eye Moody, a retired Auror from the Ministry of Magic and member of the Order of the Phoenix, and worked hard to suppress a chuckle.
As Uncle Vernon opened the door, he stuck his head out, casting quick glances up and down the street before quickly ushering Harry's escorts into the house. "Hurry in, before the neighbours spot you," Uncle Vernon pleaded. Harry rose from his spot at the dinner table and quickly moved to greet Moody and Tonks, who was looking like a middle-aged mother with golden-blonde hair tonight, shaking their hands eagerly. Aunt Petunia looked away from the scene, not sure whether the relief she felt at being rid of her sister's son was more powerful than her revulsion at having the wizarding folk in her living room.
"My, Harry, you're surely growing into a handsome young man, you are," said Tonks, smiling as she appraised her charge. "And you favour your father more and more with time. Sirius would be proud, that is for sure." Tonks felt her smile fade with Harry's as she mentioned her recently deceased cousin, who had also been Harry's beloved godfather.
"I'll run and fetch my things so that we can be on our way," said Harry as he headed towards the stairs. As he began to climb them, he heard voices again from downstairs.
"We'd like to thank you both, once again, for taking Harry in for the summer," Moody said. "It really is important that he spend much of the summer here, especially now that the man who killed his parents has returned. It is only here where he is absolutely safe."
"Well, no need to thank me," Uncle Vernon blustered. "Were it up to me, he'd have been out on his ear a long time ago. Thank Petunia, as she's the one who insisted on taking him in to begin with. He's been naught but troubles ever since."
"Now, Vernon..." Aunt Petunia began, before she was cut off by a withering look from Uncle Vernon.
"Regardless of who it is to whom we owe thanks, we really do appreciate that you've taken him in," Tonks filled in. "Soon your obligation will be through, and you shalln't be bothered by Harry again. I am sure he will only be too glad to be rid of you both as well. And your son, for that matter." Dudley Dursley was not present, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia saw to it, given Dudley's previous encounters with witches and wizards.
It was then that Harry began to descend the stairs with his school trunk, and his owl Hedwig, in her cage set atop the trunk. "Allow us to help you with that," said Mad-eye, who produced his wand and levitated the trunk and cage. A look of mild irritation filled Hedwig's eyes as the trunk and cage slowly floated to the foot of the stairs.
"Very well, then," said Moody. "We'll be off, now. We shall see you once again when the summer holidays are to start next year." He touched a finger to brim of his bowler, where he had pulled it low over his magical eye.
Harry reached into his trunk and pulled out his Firebolt, which Sirius had given to him as a Christmas gift nearly three years earlier. Then he grabbed one handle and Tonks grabbed the other, and they headed out the door, Moody in the lead, looking to see that the way was clear. Once they had walked through, Uncle Vernon quickly shut the door behind them. At the same time three people riding broomsticks; one with the large silhouette of Kingsley Shacklebolt; came in low. This would be the remainder of Harry's escort. Moody, Tonks and Harry mounted their brooms, kicked off of the ground and rose to meet them. The party then turned northeast, towards the lights of London, and towards number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
********
Harry and his guard touched down on the cul-de-sac of Grimmauld Place, and soon number twelve appeared, squeezing aside numbers eleven and thirteen. The sight was now becoming a familiar one to Harry, this being his third trip to the house serving as the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Tonks knocked on the door, and hardly a second later it opened; Hermione's beaming face appearing as it did. "Oh, Harry," Hermione cried. "It's so nice to see you again. Only being able to write you is never quite the same." From behind Hermione there came screaming noises, and it didn't take long for Harry to realize that the portrait of Sirius's mother still hung behind the curtain in the hallway.
Before everyone had been able to squeeze into the entryway of the home, Molly Weasley, Ron's mother, was already hurrying over. "Who disturbed the portrait? Was it you Ronald? Ginny?" Ron cast an annoyed glance at his mother, seeming to reproach her for accusing him before all others.
"No, it's my fault, Mrs. Weasley. I was just so excited to see Harry," Hermione confessed. "I had completely forgotten about the portrait. Please pardon me."
"Bloody typical, I tell you! You're lucky I'm not alive anymore, Mudblood! I'd teach you to forget about me, yes I would," screamed the portrait. Harry found himself wishing there were a portrait of Sirius about the house. He felt assured that his godfather's image would move into the old lady's portrait to quiet her. Gag her, even; if need be. However, Harry was certain that any portraits of Sirius that had been in the house were disposed of the day that Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor; or whenever it was that his name had been burnt from the family tree.
"Hermione, Ron; you help Harry up with his things. Same rooms as before," Molly ordered. One thing was for certain, guiding a family of nine had taught her how to take charge and give out orders. Sure, Percy had turned up to be a bit of a prat, trusting Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, before his own family; and Fred and George hadn't turned out as Molly would have liked, but they were decent enough, and even somewhat respectable entrepreneurs. Even with those faults there were no Weasleys in Azkaban, or in the Death Eaters, and they all were all Gryffindors. To top that all, four had been prefects, and Ginny had a good shot at being named prefect for her year.
Harry handed Hedwig, in her cage, to Hermione, and then he and Ron grabbed either handle on the trunk and carried it up the stairs. Upon entering the boys' room, Harry looked to the portrait frame on the wall, hoping to see that Sirius's great-great-grandfather, Phineas Nigellus, was present. The empty portrait indicated that he was in his frame at Dumbledore's office, however. Perhaps Phineas would appear later, but Harry wasn't holding out much hope of that.
********
As the week went on, the kids teased and joked with each other mercilessly. The bickering was beginning to drive Molly to her wits' edge, and she was thankful to see the week coming to a close. Ron especially liked to tease Hermione about her relationship with Viktor Krumm, the Bulgarian quidditch hero, and Durmstrang graduate whom represented that school in the Triwizard Tournament a year and a half before. The teasing seemed to only be encouraged when Ron noticed how it got under Hermione's skin.
With Hermione seemingly unwilling to respond to Ron's barbs, Ginny usually found herself defending her from the taunts. Ginny's favourite defence usually took the form of reminding Ron that there was someone who was sufficiently attracted to Hermione that they'd ask her out. What's more, not only would they ask her out, but they would pay attention to her when they spent time together, rather than sulking and paying more attention to their best friend. Ginny was still more than a little bit sore at the fact that neither Ron, nor Harry, seemed to understand how miserable they had made their dates for the Yule Ball; Padma and Parvati Patil, respectively; by behaving as though they'd prefer to be in Potions with Snape throughout that evening. Sometimes she wondered how she and Ron could have come from the same parents.
After the latest round of teasing, just before bed on the fifth night in the Black house, Hermione seemed especially upset. In fact, she hadn't seemed herself since a letter arrived in the owl post that morning, rather unexpectedly. After being on the receiving end of some of Ron's meaner taunts, it seemed like as though Hermione was going to cry before adopting an unusual icy demeanor for the remainder of the evening. When Ron saw he could get no further under her skin, he tried to switch his focus to Ginny, who just let the jibes roll off of her. With his fun cut short, Ron asked Harry to join him in their room for a game of wizard's chess before going to bed, and Harry agreed. After the boys had left the drawing room, Hermione suggested that she and Ginny head to their room as well, and Ginny joined her.
After the girls had gotten ready for bed, Hermione asked Ginny to sit down. At that point Hermione produced an envelope, the one from that morning's owl post, and handed it to Ginny, with tears in her eyes. "Please don't tell the boys; especially not Ron; about this. He would be even meaner if he knew."
Ginny read the words, written by Viktor, and tears began to build in her own eyes. "He couldn't have, the worm! Just because you don't like his stupid bloody game enough to cross Europe and watch him play all the time? Doesn't he realize that you are still in school, and that you have important things that you need to be doing? Especially considering that the season runs the same time as classes. If he wants to break up with you because you put your studies in front of him, and he cannot understand why you would, well," Ginny's voice got a cold, steely resolve at this point, "you are much better off without him."
Hermione began to cry audibly at those words, but seemed unable to say anything. "I know that it seems awful right now, 'Mione. You've been with him for almost two years. That's a long time! But after a long time like that, it seems like a really stupid thing to break up with you over, too." Hermione half-shrugged in response. "Don't worry, I won't say anything to the boys. Ron would have too much fun with this. But I think you can tell Harry. He's not totally clueless; just mostly so."
Hermione hugged Ginny and cried into her shoulder for a while, Ginny comforting her by gently stroking her back. After about twenty minutes Hermione whispered raspy into Ginny's ear, "thank you so much. It's nice to have a girl friend that I can talk to about these things. The boys would never understand, and they seem to be the ones I spend most of my time with. The girls in my year seem too self-absorbed, too. They'd probably think I was crazy for choosing school over Viktor."
"Well, they have their priorities all wrong. And just know that you can talk to me about anything. I know that some things you just can't talk to Harry and Ron about." Ginny smiled to Hermione, who returned a weak smile. "Let's get some rest, since we're going to be off to Diagon Alley tomorrow. Maybe a little sleep will have you feeling better."
The girls lay back in their beds and snuffed the lights. Ginny drifted off to sleep feeling strangely happy about her ability to be there for Hermione at a time when she was most needed. And Ginny resolved herself to make sure that Ron and Harry didn't give Hermione a hard time when they did find out that Viktor had broken it off with Hermione. She was sure that Ron would find a way to make it all Hermione's fault, too. Ron was so clueless when it came to girls.
********
Harry woke with a start. He had the most bizarre dream that he could recall. It wasn't one of the unusually vivid dreams he would have when seeing what Voldemort was planting in his mind, and he didn't wake up to a headache radiating from his scar, either. In fact, the more conscious he became the more the memory of the dream faded. He wished that he had some parchment and a quill at hand so that he could write down what he remembered. He laughed to himself when he thought about how absurd dream journals seemed when Professor Trelawney wanted their Divination class to keep them, and here he actually wanted to write down a dream that he had had. Perhaps it was because it wasn't one of those nightmares or mysteries that Voldemort sent to him.
Harry reached over to the nightstand for his glasses. It was daylight out, and he thought that he could hear some movement. Maybe he could find some parchment to write upon before he forgot the dream. He got out of bed, put on his slippers, and made his way down out of the room towards the stairs. As he neared the landing, a nearby door caught his eye and he had an idea.
He stepped into the drawing room, which was looking much better than it had a year previously, before the hours that they had put into cleaning it; or more exactly Sirius and Molly had put in. Harry spent most of the cleaning time thinking about everything other than the task at hand, and realized that he was not all that much help, probably. But it was in those days that Sirius had also taught him about the history of the Black family, and described how he was the black sheep of the family. Or in this case, since it was the Black family, would Sirius have been the white sheep?
Harry thought that the drawing room would be a good place to look for parchment. He remembered the writing desk, the one that had had the boggart in it, and headed for it. He found parchment in the lowest drawer. There were quills in the topmost drawer, as well as jars of ink. Harry inked a quill and set to writing.
"29 August - I woke from the strangest dream. It is already growing fuzzy in my mind, so I had better get this down quickly. We were back at school, but for some reason Hermione wasn't anywhere about. Whenever I would ask about Hermione, people would look at me like I was daft; like I'd gone off my rocker. I felt at a loss, because she wasn't there to balance Ron. The both are my best friends, and they complement each other so well that, when they've fought in the past and I've not had both at hand, I've felt ill at ease. That is the feeling that this dream has left me with. I do hope that nothing bad will befall Hermione during this year."
Harry folded up the parchment, put the quill away and headed back to the bedroom. He'd just tucked the parchment away in his trunk and gently closed the lid when Ron awoke. "Good morning, mate. Fancy some breakfast?" Harry smiled and nodded, still not feeling entirely comfortable.
********
The owl post arrived as everyone was finishing up his or her breakfast. The book lists for the new year arrived, as expected. Ginny's envelope held the expected; another prefect's badge for another Weasley. Ginny's eyes widened a bit as she looked at it. "I was sure that my first year was going to keep me from getting prefect. I was certain." She was probably the only one at the table who felt that way, however.
A moment later, Bill, the oldest Weasley boy, entered the kitchen. "Mum, we need to hurry to catch the bus to the Leaky Cauldron. I figured you would have these louts whipped into shape and waiting by the door."
"Well, the post just arrived Bill. We couldn't very well leave before it came now, could we?" Mrs. Weasley's chiding look softened as Bill began to laugh. "Oh, and you'll want to see what your sister has in her hand there."
Bill peered over Ginny's shoulder as she looked up meekly, still mildly disbelieving. He clapped her on the shoulder and smiled a warm, loving smile. "Holding up the family tradition, I see! Brilliant, Ginny! I wonder what Fred and George will have to say? Oh, and Mum, the twins are going to meet us at the Cauldron. They said that they were treating us all to lunch."
"Oh, Bill, I wish they wouldn't. They need to save their money, and I can very well pay for everyone's lunch." Molly still thought that the twins were going to starve, having chosen running a joke shop for their choice of careers. Instead, they were quite successful. Once word had spread about their actions at Hogwart's before their dismissal it impressed others as much as it had embarrassed Molly. Their shop was buried in orders and they did a brisk walk-up business in their Diagon Alley shop.
"Mum, they're fine. I see them in Gringott's at least twice a week, and they're never withdrawing money. If they wish to treat everyone to lunch, let them. They want you to be proud of them." Bill's eyes were serious, even as he still smiled.
"Ah, very well. I know that if they've set their minds on it, they will see to it that I allow them to pay. But they really should be saving their money. Okay, the rest of you, hurry and get dressed, or we'll miss that bus." Molly began to shoo the others away from the table and towards the stairs.
********
Everyone was well satisfied with the lunches they had eaten at the Leaky Cauldron, and Molly forced herself to admit that Fred and George seemed to be getting on well. They invited everyone to come by their shop that afternoon, where they would get a tour of the facility. When Molly asked how they could manage to take time out for the lunch, they matter-of-factly responded that they had hired on a couple of clerks. "Best decision we have made, too," said Fred (or was it George). He added, "it's given us more time to work on new items for the shop and to replenish our stocks."
After getting up from the table everyone headed out the back door, where Bill opened the gateway to Diagon Alley. "We're all going to have to go to Gringott's with Bill. Take care Fred, George, and we'll stop by later, should we have time." Molly still sounded unsure that she wanted to see the twins' business, as it would seem a sort of final approval of their career choice. But she wanted to seem at least somewhat conciliatory, as well.
"Okay, Mum, we'll look forward to it," chorused the twins. They smiled and gave Molly a quick hug, then turned in the direction of their shop. As they walked away, they seemed to conspire between themselves, perhaps planning the latest in their line of pranks. The rest of the group headed across the crowded street and headed up the stairs into Gringott's.
Once in the lobby of Gringott's; Molly, Harry and Hermione queued up for service. Hermione was simply changing Muggle pounds and pence for wizarding money, and before long would be able to rejoin Ron and Ginny in the lobby. Before meeting up with them, she informed Molly that the three of them would head out to Flourish & Blott's, and that she'd be able to meet up with them there. "Very well, as long as you don't allow them to drag you into Quality Quidditch Supplies. They'll beg you to buy them everything in the store," Molly warned.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley. There's nothing that store has that could interest me," said Hermione, who then proceeded to the lobby. Mrs. Weasley redirected her attention to the queue, softly yelping in apologetic embarrassment that she'd not noticed as the queue moved forward while she talked to Hermione.
********
Harry and Molly returned from the vaults at roughly the same time, and emerged from Gringott's together. "Harry, what do you think Ginny would fancy for a gift, now that she's prefect? Something from Quality Quidditch Supplies, perhaps? Do you imagine that she'll still be on the Gryffindor team?"
"I think she would be, Mrs. Weasley. Even though my suspension has been lifted, the team is still in need of Chasers, and we really could use better Beaters than the fellows who replaced Fred and George. In fact, I think that Angelina expected that Ginny would become a Chaser should my suspension ever be lifted," Harry responded. "Perhaps a broomstick maintenance kit would be a good idea. As a Chaser, it would be brilliant if she were able to keep her stick in top flying condition."
"Oh, Harry, that's a very good idea. I think that I'll get her that, and perhaps a small owl so that she and Ron each have their own." Molly suddenly realized that it was much easier to afford little extras for her children now that there were only two to buy for. That realization brought tears to her eyes.
"Are you okay, Mrs. Weasley," Harry asked, noticing the tears.
Molly composed herself quickly, wiping the tears away. "Oh, yes, Harry. Quite fine. Just some dust in my eyes, is all," was her response, not at all convincing Harry that she was being honest. "Why don't you run along and join the others, and tell them that I will be with you shortly."
"Yes, ma'am, if you're sure it will be fine." Harry felt relieved that someone seemed to trust him to be able to handle himself for more than five seconds without supervision. After all, he was 16 now, and the Muggle government would entrust him to drive an automobile. And to top it off, he had scored top marks on this Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. There was no reason to think that Harry was still a child in need of protection, and he was glad to feel the freedom he hadn't been allowed since Voldemort's return.
Passing Weasley's Wizard Wheezes on the way to Flourish & Blott's demonstrated to Harry just why it was that Fred and George were doing so well. There was a crowd inside the shop, and the people he was seeing coming out all had at least one bag; and were laughing as they did so. Harry continued to look over at the shop, longer than was prudent in the crowded street, and only looked away just in time to knock over a young girl, who was looking a bit bewildered.
"Oh, very sorry," Harry said, helping the girl up. "Are your parents about?"
The girl looked at Harry, slightly puzzled, as though trying to work a problem out in her mind, and then realization dawned upon her. When she began to speak, it was in a thick accent that Harry couldn't quite place. It wasn't quite Germanic, nor was it guttural enough to be Slavic, based on Harry's experiences with the Durmstrang students two years earlier. "Ah! Mama és Papa, over there," she replied pointing over Harry's shoulder towards Gringott's. The girl, who looked to be about the proper age for a first year, seemed to only rise to Harry's chin, making her slightly shorter than average for her age. She also had pale skin and dark hair, as well as a peculiar style of dress. She brushed some dirty from her long black skirt, smiled slightly at Harry and said, "Elnézést. I must be catching up with Mama és Papa, or they will be upset. I not bother you more." Before Harry could even ask her name, the girl ran off in the direction she had indicated, then disappeared into the crowd.
"Odd bird, that girl," Harry thought. "And what would a student from another school; Durmstrang or wherever; be doing here in Diagon Alley? Do they carry books for other schools here? Or maybe they're just tourists." Harry felt that the girl would cross his path again, but he wasn't sure why, and that left him feeling uncomfortable.
As he approached the door of Flourish & Blott's, Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin sixth-year and prefect, was emerging with a scowl on her face. It didn't brighten any when she saw Harry, either. Harry figured Pansy must have run into Hermione inside. The two girls did not mix well, and their relationship was only slightly better than Harry's relationship with Draco Malfoy. As Harry passed Pansy, he was sure he heard her mutter something that sounded like "just you wait, she'll get hers." Suddenly Harry had a feeling that there was going to be more to worry about in the coming school year than just Voldemort. His discomfort was mounting.
********
Hermione not only looked frustrated, she was. Pansy Parkinson just had to try and cause a scene in the middle of Flourish & Blott's. Of course, Hermione wasn't sure why she should have expected any different; after all, it's not like Pansy missed the chance to try and goad Hermione into some sort of action at school, so why would Diagon Alley be any different? Perhaps it was the thought that being outside of school, in the midst of the wizarding public, would give Pansy pause. Hermione supposed that she was being a bit naive to expect that, though.
"C'mon, 'Mione, let's go to Quality Quidditch Supplies. We'll be back in time to meet Mum. She's gonna be forever," complained Ron.
"Ron, Mum said to stay here. Besides, she hasn't even asked yet what I wanted for my gift for making prefect. I was going to ask for an owl, or maybe a cat if an owl was too much," replied Ginny, noticing Hermione's annoying at Ron's begging.
"Ginny is right, Ron. Your mother asked me to promise that we would stay right here."
"Oh, look at how the prefects stick together, and stick to the rules and to promises. You guys are no fun!"
"You're a prefect, too," responded the girls in unison. No sooner had the words passed their lips than Hermoine spotted Harry walking into the store, and her countenance brightened. Hermione stood on her tiptoes to be more visible above the crowd and waved to Harry, trying to get his attention. Once he'd smiled to her in acknowledgment, Hermione returned her attention to Ron.
"Harry's here now, so your mother is probably going to be here in a couple of minutes, as well, just hold tight," Hermione added.
"Hermione, I take it that you and Pansy ran into each other," asked Harry as he joined the others.
"Of course. But how did you know," Hermione returned.
"Oh, I passed her as I was coming to the store, and she was muttering something about some girl getting hers, and you were the first person who came to mind."
Hermione's face fell at Harry's recounting of Pansy's words. "Yeah, she was being all cryptic about Ravenclaws being useful, unlike Gryffindors, and other stuff that didn't make much sense. She also was saying something about how Snape should be the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor this year, for certain; and that he'd be sure that we didn't get the same level of instruction that the Slytherins did. She was just being her usual self, in other words. Mean and conceited."
"Don't forget ugly, too," added Ron, none too helpfully.
"I wonder what she's on about then," Harry replied. "But I looked over the book list when we were coming to the Leaky Cauldron, and there was nothing that I had seen that indicated Snape would be teaching Defence. The one book is titled 'Vampires, Werewolves, and other Transylvanian "Horrors"', by some bloke named Georg Mihaly. If the author's name weren't so strange, I'd almost think that Dumbledore'd gone off his rocker and hired Lupin on again."
"You don't suppose that he did do that, do you," Ron asked, looking hopeful. "He's the best Defence teacher we've ever had!"
"No, I don't think that Dumbledore would have. I don't think that Fudge would let him get away with it," Harry said, sadness in his voice. "Stupid people and their dumb prejudices. I wonder who will be the professor, though. This will be six professors in as many years! How do they expect us to be able to pass our N.E.W.T.s? Just as long as this year isn't as strange as today has been. Like I just run into a girl outside, literally. She seemed to be in her own little world at the time, and she had a strange accent. Almost like Viktor's," Ron winced at the mention of the name, "but not quite right. You don't suppose that they sell books for Durmstrang here, do they?"
"I don't think so," Hermione said. "That is kind of strange that a Durmstrang student would be here to shop." Hermione would have continued, but she stopped when she spotted Mrs. Weasley entering the store with a cage in one hand and a package under the other arm.
"Ginny, dear," began Mrs. Weasley, "I thought I'd surprise you with your gifts for making prefect." Ginny turned to face her mother, and nearly squealed when she saw the cage, and the beautiful barn owl inside.
"Oh, thank you so much, Mum! Thank you, thank you," Ginny effused, throwing her arms around Mrs. Weasley's neck with such excitement that she nearly knocked her mother down.
"That's only a part, though," Mrs. Weasley interrupted.
"She gets TWO presents? That's unfair, Mum! I only got the broomstick," objected Ron.
"Yes, but since Ginny already has a broomstick, I figured that I should get her two presents. If you want, we can go to Quality Quidditch Supplies later and pick something up for you, too. Maybe a Chudley Cannons replica robe? Now, let's buy your books and we'll take everything back to the Cauldron."
********
The brood was tromping their way into Quality Quidditch Supplies when the clerk looked over with a "back so soon" glance at Mrs. Weasley. Molly made her way directly to the replica robes for the various local and national sides while the others browsed around.
Harry found an information guide for Puddlemere United that showed former Gryffindor keeper and captain, Oliver Wood, making a fantastic save on the cover. Ginny was admiring a calendar featuring the Irish national team, winners of the World Quidditch Cup two years previously. And Ron dragged Hermione to the posters, where he pointed out a poster portraying Viktor Krumm flying a Wrontski Feint. "Well, if it isn't your boyfriend, 'Mione," Ron said. "Want me to buy it for you? You can post it over your bed so you can stare at him dreamily every night."
Hermione didn't object or argue with Ron. Instead, she just ran from the store. Harry caught sight of her, then looked at Ron. Ron flashed Harry a puzzled shrug. Harry gave Ron an annoying look, then quickly made his way out of the store. When he caught up with Hermione, he noticed her head was in her hands. "What's wrong, Hermione? Was it something that Ron said?"
Hermione only sobbed in response.
"C'mon, Hermione. How am I supposed to help you if you don't say anything to me."
"I'm sorry, Harry. I...I...it's just hard for me to talk about. Nobody would understand."
"Try me, Hermione. You might be surprised."
"But, no offence Harry, but you've not had a serious relationship before. You just wouldn't understand. Really."
"Okay, I may not understand. But I can listen, and I can try to understand. So it was what Ron said, about you having the poster of Viktor, then?"
Hermione nodded, her eyes red and swollen. "Harry, it was so mean!"
Harry looked at Hermione, slightly nonplused. "Mean? Well, I suppose that it was. But you and Viktor are dating, and you don't get to see him much. Ron probably thought he was being funny."
"No, Harry. Don't tell Ron, but, um...Viktor and I...we broke up. He came to visit on holiday, and it was nice and all, but it just wasn't as exciting as it used to be. And he was talking about nothing but quidditch, and the coming season, and how hard he had to train. I couldn't pretend to be interested anymore. And he said that if I couldn't be happy for him, and I couldn't take interest in what was important to him, that we probably should see other people. And he sent a letter in owl post breaking it off all together. It hurt Harry. I felt like if I would have put in more effort, it wouldn't have happened. It's all my fault."
"Now, that's not true, Hermione. I think that the fact you even tried to follow a sport that you think is dumb; why any guy who doesn't appreciate that, he's just barmy." Harry wiped some tears from Hermione's eyes. "Besides, he should like you for who you are, not for you to be some screaming fan-girl in the stands."
"I know you're right, Harry. It's just so hard."
"You'll find someone who will appreciate you for who you are. I know that there are plenty of guys at school who already do."
"Who? Certainly no one in Gryffindor. They all think I'm a bossy, nosy bookworm. Except Neville, but that would be like dating my brother, if I had one."
"Well, I don't think I should name any names, but I know for a fact that a few of the boys have been interested in you in the past. It's simply a matter of their being too stupid to say anything about it. Or too stupid to be able to say the right things, any way." As Harry finished his words, the little bell over the door rang, and the Weasleys came out, Ron beaming with a bag in his hands. "They're out of the store now. Try to smile and make the best of the rest of the day, okay?"
"All right Harry, but that doesn't make him any less of a git."
Ron just about scared Hermione out of her skin as he stepped up behind her and asked, "who's a git, now? Didn't see Malfoy out here, did you?" Hermione rolled her eyes to Harry, who gave a weak smile.
---To be continued---
Author's notes:
"és" - Hungarian word meaning "and"
"Elnézést" - Hungarian word meaning "Thank you"
These words were used because a person who is relatively new to a language and not exactly fluent just yet, will tend to use familiar phrases in their first language in conversational situations, expecting people to understand them based on context. One need not speak French to understand that if a French person says "merci" after you've helped them that "merci" likely means "thank you." The same thing is going on here. Don't worry, this will probably be some of the very little Hungarian that I'll ever use in this story. ^.^