WARNING: Things of a sexual nature abound in this chapter. Here, on FF.net, this is the edited version of this chapter to protect those with innocence and virtue. (Bah, that's no way to live, though!) A-hem, anyway, if you want the smut, go to my Yahoo group and find the smutty version there for your pleasure and enjoyment. The link to my Yahoo group is on my biopage. Oh, and the removed scene is indicated by *#*#*#*. Cheers!
Chapter 39. Home with HermioneThe arrival back to Grimmauld Place was met with a rush of euphoria at knowing Harry no longer had to think twice about who might be watching him and knowing he wouldn't have to battle Hermione's revision schedules, late-night lingering students, Filch or Mrs. Norris any time he fancied a spot of time with her. Because they'd long ago been given the coordinates for the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, they were able to Apparate directly from Hogsmeade and into its Entry Hall. Harry arrived just moments before Hermione and as soon as he heard the pop! indicating her arrival and saw her wild mane of hair appear before him, he dove at her; capturing her mouth with his and finding the nearest wall to help support her body as he crushed his against hers.
One hand fisted in her hair while the other held her hip firmly against his. His tongue, he couldn't thrust deep enough into her mouth; trying to feel her, taste her, consume her. The hand on her hip, wanted more and he gathered up her skirt (which he intended to thank her profusely for wearing), tugging it upwards so his palm could feel the smoothness of her upper thigh. Up, he slid his hand and around to cup her bottom; it was just the most perfect size. Perfectly palm-sized for him, that was. Squeezing he vaguely noted the smooth satin of her knickers and tried to place the memory of just which ones these were. It'd be much, much easier to tell if they were laying upon the floor, he mused with surging arousal.
"Do you know what I want to do to you?" he rasped as he finally relinquished control of her mouth. He needed to taste more. His lips trailed hungrily down her jaw and neck. Not enough exposed. His nipped the collar of her blouse with his teeth and tugged it open wider to expose her delectable throat. He lingered, admiring the way her throat seemed to be offered to him as she arched backwards into the doorframe she was crushed up against.
Now, back to those knickers... He took her unclaimed neck and delighted in the silken feel of her soft skin beneath his lips as he slid one hand around from her bottom, along her waistband, gliding over the wondrous curve where hip, thigh and stomach all converge, and to the front where-- I knew it! He felt himself grin against her throat. His fingers rolled around the tiny fabric nub in the very center of her waistband. The lacy panel beneath it confirmed his suspicions (and hopes) that these were indeed his most favorite of all the knickers he'd ever had the pleasure to slide off of her. Red. And they're blocking my way.
"God, I want you," he could only growl out, just barely pulling his hand back before his lower half decided to thrust itself forward in a demand for more contact.
"You know...," an amused voice said from behind him. "The mistletoe is actually only over there." Through some instinctual schoolboy reflex, Harry quickly and discretely smoothed down Hermione's skirt—he would never want anyone but him to see her looking so utterly debauched--before pulling away...slightly. Where the blast is a robe when you need one?
"Hello, Remus," Hermione said, making Harry wonder how she could always manage to compose herself ever so quickly.
"Hermione! I could barely see you there! Welcome! Glad to see you both made it all right. Wasn't sure, er, when you would...arrive. You all right there, Harry? You seem to be looking a bit peaked."
If I hit him with a blinding hex, he'd never see my second smirk-wiping hex coming.... "Oh, he might still be bit miffed at Snape. Remember Harry? Remember Snape?" Snape? How the hell can she kiss me and then even allow the word Snape to cross those very same lips?! "He was the one sent to trail us into Hogsmeade and make sure we Disapparated okay."
Snape, that git... "That git has been lurking around every corner the past week," Harry grumbled. "You'd think that git's trying to dog my steps and not his own Slytherins!" The past week, ever since Harry figured Dumbledore had passed forth Harry's report of Malfoy's sneaking about Hogsmeade, Snape had turned up every time Harry came around a corner.
Remus still looked amused and asked, "And you're sure you weren't just perhaps looking over your shoulder an awful lot to make sure no one was watching if you just happened to drop a few Dungbombs on some of the castle's more lower levels?"
"Entirely beside the point," Harry said, straightening his glasses and running a hand through his hair.
Remus smiled; he was in an unusually good mood, Harry noted. "Well, you're here now and I have something for you to do, Harry. Come on up to the drawing room."
*
*
The Drawing Room was already hung with pine boughs, twinkling fairy lights and a freshly fragrant tree stood across the room. Harry saw Hermione echo his deep inhale of breath as they entered the room; delighting in the rich pine scent. The tall tree was bare with naught but even a light on it and stood blocking the last remnant of the house of Black; the Black family tapestry.
"Dung just brought that in this morning." Remus said. "I had to stop Dobby from decorating it by telling him you two might want to have some of the fun. Over here, Harry," Remus said as he then walked over to the table on the far side of the room and gestured at a stack of parchments. "These are the announcements for the Celebration. It's set for one week from today and if we send them out this afternoon, that'll be in just enough time. As you're the host, Harry, I thought you might sign them." Remus seated himself, gesturing for Harry and Hermione to each do the same. "It'll only take a half hour or so. We can help roll them and then I'll get them sent out. Then you two can, er, settle in."
Harry sent Remus an unamused look and picked up one of the creamy golden hued parchments and read the flowing scarlet script for the announcement.
~~~~~
You are cordially invited to
Celebrate
The life and memory ofSirius Orion Black
~~~~~~~~~
~Strength ~ Courage ~ Honour ~ Love ~ Loyalty ~
~~~
The Celebration shall commence at the afternoon hour of six o'clock
On the twenty-seventh day of December
In the year of our Lord, nineteen hundred and ninety-six
At the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix
~~~
Your Host,
Harry felt truly excited for the impending Celebration for the first time and found himself appreciating the idea of people no longer pausing awkwardly after any mention of Sirius. He wanted to do this; to do this for Sirius. Sirius deserved to be remembered for his fine qualities and for his perseverance through hardship and wrongs.
"They're lovely," Hermione said, a bit too tentatively; making Harry look at her questioningly. "Well, but how can we send these out? Isn't it...rather sensitive information? If someone were to read it..."
"They could only be the person whom Harry intended to read it," Remus said. "Or so I'm told. Here," he said as he leaned over and pulled up a rich wooden box from the seat of the chair beside him. Remus placed what looked to Harry like a jewellery box onto the table and slid it across to Harry. "Albus sent Fawkes here with this just before you both arrived." Remus looked at them both and smiled, saying, "Neither of you have ever been away from home where you had to receive field messages—somewhere where you can't use the cauldrons. Actually, all communications used to come with this before the cauldron post was set up just a year or so after we had all joined the Order. Go on and open it," he urged. "I've never actually seen this in person. I imagine Albus included some specific instructions for you inside the box. My note only said to give it to you to complete the invitations."
Harry lifted the deep mahogany wooden lid and revealed the contents of the box. On a pillow of crimson velvet, lay a large golden hand seal. It was tall and the round seal was twice as large as a Galleon. Harry turned it over to see the seal and found a very detailed and extremely life-like image of a scarlet and gold Phoenix hovering in flight with two long crossed phoenix feathers gripped in its talons. The border of the seal read, "The Order of the Phoenix." The image was sparkling and moving and Harry watched it, amazed. Suddenly, the two crossed feathers burst into flame, which then flared as the phoenix caught fire and seemed to dissolve. Harry continued to watch; he could hear Hermione's awed sigh as she watched the image then transform from flurrying ashes into a reborn phoenix.
Remus, who'd been watching as he leaned over the table, said, "That's what the seal, when it's used, will look like, too. Read the note." He gestured to a small rolled up note in the box, beside the pillow.
Harry, Dumbledore's looping script read. This is the seal of the Order, as you might have already guessed. Beneath the pillow is a Phoenix feather quill that, together with this seal, are enchanted. Harry lifted the pillow in the box and saw beneath it, a large scarlet feather with shimmering gold tips and an ornate golden nib. "A Phoenix feather," Hermione breathed out in awe. To use these, simply use this quill to write the name of the only person or persons you wish to be able to read the parchment on the outside of the scroll. Use the seal to secure the scroll and then tap the seal with the feather. None but the designated recipient shall be able to read the name on the scroll, its contents or to even open the scroll. This is the only seal there is and I think it is time you learned to use it. I shall see you soon. Enjoy your holiday. ~AD
Harry let Remus and Hermione read the note and rolled the magnificent quill in his hand. It was the largest and yet the lightest feather quill he'd ever held. "May I?" Hermione asked after reading the note. He handed her the quill and watched her marvel over it. "It's a very powerful magical object. The phoenix is one of the most powerfully magical creatures there is. I've never seen a phoenix feather quill," she said, handing it back to Harry.
"Well, it'd be a bit of a waste, wouldn't it?" Harry said. "They're probably most prized as wand cores. I imagine a quill is a bit of a waste for one. But that must be where the enchantment gets its strength from—the feather. Hmm." The feather had a golden radiance to it that made it almost appear to glow.
Remus nodded at the parchments to be signed and addressed. "Well, let's get these done then. Since it's a formal event, I'll take them into Diagon Alley and send them out via owl post. Here's the invite list, Harry. You sign and address. We'll roll and then you can seal them."
At first, Harry had looked in the box for a bottle of ink, but Hermione suggested it might be a self-inking quill so he just tried to write with it. It turned out that it did not indeed need any ink and that the writing actually came out looking like liquid flames; it shimmered with a golden ink that flickered as if tiny red flames burned within it. It was by far the coolest ink Harry had ever seen and he kept grinning and marvelling at it as he signed and addressed the announcements.
Until, that is, he got to one name down on the list, which made his jaw drop. "Severus Snape?" Harry said incredulously as pulled the invite list from off the table to glare at it. There, on the invite list written by Dumbledore himself, was the name of Sirius' most bitter and hated enemy. "Is Dumbledore mad?" Harry asked, blinking, hoping the name would just disappear from the list if he stared at it long enough.
Remus just pursed his lips and looked at the list like it was betraying them all by just being there. "Well," Hermione said, trying to sound reasonable. "He is a member of the Order. Every single member who served in the Order with Sirius has been invited. You can't very well just leave one out, can you?"
"You can if he tried his best to get Sirius kissed by Dementors," Harry said darkly.
"Well, perhaps he might wish to make amends or...or, even to apologize!" Hermione said desperately. She was fairly certain Harry would just as soon 'overlook' this one name and if he did, Remus didn't appear to be apt to protest. Harry gave her a look that clearly said she wasn't very convincing. "Well," she snapped. "Just because you send him an announcement does not mean he will attend. You might even tick him off to send him one." This tactic worked much better and Harry hesitated only a moment before addressing the parchment. Another half dozen and he was almost finished.
"How about the Weasleys?" Harry asked, scratching his head. "Is Charlie home for the holidays or should he get a separate one since he might be in Romania? Does Bill live at the Burrow right now? Should I just send one to 'Weasley Family'?" It seemed a bit wasteful to send a separate announcement to each and every member of the large family.
Remus frowned and also scratched his head. "Bill definitely does not live at the Burrow—haven't you ever heard Molly go on and on about him being lonely in the flat he has here in London?" Remus snorted. "He's far from lonely, I'll tell you that. But I do think Charlie is coming home for the holidays, last I heard."
"What about Percy?" Hermione asked.
"What about Percy?" Harry snapped, facing her sharply.
Hermione ignored his tone and explained, "Well you can't just address the announcement to the entire family—what if he were to stop by somehow and read it? He's one of the last people whose hands you'd want this information to fall into right now. I'm for sending a separate one to each person. It's much more formal and everyone likes to get post. All except for the twins' and Bill's can be sent together to the Burrow. But best to be safe and address them individually," she said decisively.
Remus nodded. "She's got a point."
Harry quickly addressed the last of the announcements to be sent to the Weasley family and then moved on to light a sealing wax candle. Hermione and Remus took turns dripping the wax onto the rolled scrolls and holding them out for Harry to seal with the Order of the Phoenix crest. Finally, he tapped each seal with the tip of the phoenix feather quill and Hermione nodded as each addressee's name disappeared from her view. "What's left to be arranged for the Celebration?" she asked Remus watching over Harry's shoulder.
"Best to ask Dobby about that," Remus said, taking the completed scrolls and stacking them. "He's been the little tyrant since he showed up a few days ago. Whatever did you ask him to do, Harry, when you talked to him at Hogwarts?"
Harry smiled wryly as he tapped the last announcement (Ron's) and said, "I barely asked him to do anything. I showed up after dinner one night in the kitchens and told him there was going to be a Celebration here for Sirius and he practically bounced off the walls and burst with delight." Harry shook his head at the memory. "He was most emphatic that I should not worry about a thing."
"Oh, but we should still see if there's anything else we can do to help," Hermione said. "I haven't seen Winky since we left in September."
"Well," Remus said, gathering up the scrolls and putting them into a bag. "You two go see Winky and the Little Tyrant and I'll go send these off. Here," he gestured to the scrolls for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Ginny and Charlie that he had left out. "You can send these with Hedwig."
Harry picked them up and he and Hermione walked Remus down the stairs. "Will the post owls know who to deliver those to?" Harry asked.
"So Dumbledore says," Remus said, shrugging. "Owls don't really need us to tell them where to go; they're rather brilliant creatures."
As if to prove his point, Hedwig then flew over and landed on Harry's shoulder, sticking her leg out and gesturing with her head towards the Weasleys' scrolls in his hands. Harry laughed and said, "Well, I won't argue with that."
*
*
In the basement kitchen, Harry and Hermione found Dobby and Winky listing off and checking the inventory of the pantry's stocks and supplies. Winky seemed elated to have more people back in the house and reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley as she prepared heaping plates of food for them and insisted they eat.
"But, it's barely noon," Harry protested as Winky led him to the long wooden table by tugging on his trouser leg.
"You is eating, Master Harry," she said sternly. "Hogwarts elves is preparing food for everyone. I is preparing food for just you. Eat!"
A loud yawn from the blazing hearth drew their attention then. "Fang!" Harry said as Hagrid's enormous black boarhound lazily padded over and looked up at the plates upon the table longingly. "So this is where you're keeping company, eh?" Harry scratched behind his ears and tried to avoid a stream of slobber that was hanging from one side of his mouth.
"Hagrid must have asked Remus to keep him here while he's gone," Hermione said, looking fondly at the beloved companion of their largest friend.
"Oh yes," Dobby said, nodding. "Dobby knows Hagrid and his Grawp had to leave for Professor Dumbledore! They is looking for more," Dobby shuddered, "giants! But Dobby knows it's better that we be friends with giants than He-who-must-not-be-named." He nodded emphatically, his ears flapping.
"Are you missing Hagrid, Fang?" Harry asked, still scratching his enormous head. Fang whined and rubbed his head against Harry's leg, almost pushing Harry out of his seat. "Yeah, he probably misses you, too."
Hermione snorted. "No offense to Fang, but I doubt it. I'm sure Hagrid is in heaven right about now." They had received world from Hagrid the past week that he and Grawp had met up with one of the dragon-keepers from the Norwegian Reserve who had agreed to be their guide. To reach the remote area that was known to be home to some giants, they had to pass through the Norwegian Ridgeback Dragon Reserve. Since it was almost Christmas, their guide had asked if they would mind staying at the reserve camp for a week before moving out. Obviously, Hagrid had been delighted. "Dobby," Hermione said, trying to crane her neck and get a look at the long list in his tiny hands. "Tell us what we can do to help prepare?"
Dobby began to twist one ear nervously and said, "Oh, no! We is managing! You and Harry Potter shall relax and enjoy your holidays!"
"But there must be something," Hermione persisted hopefully.
"Didn't Remus say there was the tree in the Drawing Room to be trimmed?" Harry asked. "I've never trimmed a tree before."
"Never?" Hermione asked.
Harry shrugged. "Never. But it looked like fun." Christmases at the Dursleys had been bittersweet for Harry when he had been young. The festive decorations, twinkling lights and merry tunes of the season were always enjoyable. But the fact that he had always been forced to watch from afar (or even to just listen from within his cupboard) as the rest of the family exchanged gifts and delighted in rich cakes and treats only served to make Harry feel even more like an unwanted outsider at Number Four. He'd been made to lug trimmings to and from the attic storage but it had always been his aunt who'd painstakingly arranged each and every ornament with scripted precision.
At the prospect of giving Harry the opportunity to do something fun, Dobby bounced around and popped away, saying he would fetch the boxes of ornaments and put them in the Drawing Room. After Winky allowed them to leave (after a second helping and a heaping serving of chocolate mousse trifle), Harry and Hermione headed up from the kitchen with the full intent to trim the tree in the Drawing Room. However, the mistletoe hung directly above the grand sweeping staircase at the base of the entry hall, caused them to have to pause—it was after all, tradition.
"Perhaps," Hermione breathed out, stilling kissing Harry. "Perhaps," kiss, "we ought to make sure," kiss, "our stuff arrived—oh," kiss, "in, o-our rooms?"
Harry refocused his eyes on Hermione and leaned his forehead against hers. She really was clever, he thought. "That sounds like an excellent idea. We could make sure my bed's still there." He led her up two flights of stairs then and, pausing on each landing for yet another kiss, they finally made it to the top level.
Walking backwards and leading Hermione by both hands, Harry led her down the hall to their rooms. "Oh, here's my room," she said, tugging on Harry's hands to pause for a moment. As he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, she pushed open the door and peered in. "Oh, yup, my trunk's here and oh--oh, Harry!" He had lifted her hair from the nape of her neck and was doing something with his mouth that sent shivers up and down her spine. She twisted around in his arms then, kissed him soundly on the mouth and tugged him forward, in the same manner he had done with her, and towards his room at the end of the hall. "Come on," she said enticingly as she reached his door, twisted the handle and pushed it open.
Harry's room—the only room he'd ever felt was truly his and his alone—was just as he'd remembered it. His trunk was already across the room by the wardrobe; Dobby had seen to moving their belongings from Hogwarts in the morning. The fire in the hearth sprang to life as they entered the room and Hermione continued to lead Harry into the room, smiling up at him until the back of her thighs hit the side of his bed.
"Everything's here," Harry said as she slid her arms up and around his neck.
*#*#*#*
Somehow, she'd managed to get him onto the bed and as he regained consciousness, he looked at her amused face framed by her untameable hair and said, "We have to do that again."
Hermione smirked down at him and said, "I'll say. And even though you looked so appealing with your trousers just barely down past your bum, I felt the need to divest of your clothing."
Harry looked down and saw he was completely starkers now upon the bed. "You wicked, wicked, witch!" he said in delighted surprise.
She trailed the tip of her wand over his chest and smirked again as she said, "Actually, I did indeed use a spell to strip you naked and if you're nice to me, I'll even teach it to you."
Harry laughed and grinned as he saw she was still wearing her wool skirt. He leaned up and, holding her hand that held her wand, pointed it at her skirt and whispered, "Divestus." She looked surprised as her skirt vanished and he said, "Do you really think I never looked up a spell for that?"
"You've never used it," she said archly.
"I like undressing you," he said as he kissed her cheek. "Besides, you'll never guess where I found that one." She looked at him questioningly and he answered, "In the Duelling with Wizards Who Play Dirty book." He laughed. "Imagine using that one during a duel!"
A few hours later and lazily circling his hand over her flat stomach, Harry sighed and propped himself up on one elbow to look down at Hermione. "I'm surprised Remus hasn't returned and tried to get us out of here." He leaned down and kissed her nose.
Hermione leisurely carded her hand through Harry's messier-than-usual mop of hair and said, "Well, he's probably afraid you'd hex him if he interrupted us again. Speaking of which, you owe me one for bringing up Snape down there." Harry just raised an eyebrow in question. "Don't give me that look! No other topic of conversation can make this—"Hermione leaned up a bit and firmly grasped the sated member between Harry's legs, making Harry breathe in sharply, "—behave as reliably as the topic of our beloved Potions Master."
Harry groaned as she cupped and tugged. "Argh, are you trying to traumatize me? Don't touch there and then talk about...oh! Oh, do that again," he moaned, closing his eyes and falling back on his pillow. Hermione laughed and let go. "Hey!" he cried, his eyes flying wide open.
"Hey, yourself, Potter," Hermione said as she rolled over and picked up Harry's glasses from the bedside table. "Here," she said, handing them to him. "Since we made this big deal about wanting to help with something and trimming the tree, I think we ought to actually get out of bed and do something." Harry groaned again as she stood up and walked a few steps away to bend over and pick up some of the scattered clothes from the floor. She pulled on her blouse over her head and threw Harry his trousers. "Besides, I want to use the library here to look up some more information on fluxweed. I can name off several potions that use it but I want to do a bit of research into the properties of the compound. The school's copy of the Magicopiel Formulary was checked out." She was pulling on her skirt by now and searching for her socks, finding instead, Harry's jumper, which, she then tossed over to him.
*
*
Harry dug, yet again, into the box of Christmas ornaments that Dobby had brought out. This time, he found a grumbling garland string of toy soldiers that seemed to be quite upset they'd just spent the last eleven months stuffed haphazardly into a box.
"That's the last time I spend nearly a year beneath a molting partridge!" one cried, shaking his bayonet at Harry.
"Oh, it's that time of year again!" said one jolly soldier. "Hang us by the fire. I like it where it's toasty warm!"
"No! I got me bum singed last time we was hung there! The tree—put us on the tree!"
Harry smirked and set them aside carefully. Hermione was currently rifling through the library while he sat cross-legged on the floor and unpacked the box of ornaments to see just what there all was. So far he'd found several boxes of baubles and balls, strings of fairy lights with sleepy little fairy dolls attached to them, dozens of bows and yards of ribbons.
Hermione then breezed into the Drawing Room, looking exhausted and sunk to the floor beside Harry. "I couldn't find a Formulary," she said. "But, I did find this book." She held up a slim book entitled, Charms and Enchantments for the Holiday Home.
"Excellent!" Harry said, taking it from her and opening it. "Self-contained snow storms, quick-wrap spells, endless eggnog, instant-trim enchantments, anti-peeking jinxes—how many times could I have used that one over the years with Ron?" Harry said, laughing. Hermione was lifting a plum-colored, glittery ornament out of a box and did not seem to be listening. "Hermione?" Harry said softly, seeing the faraway look on her face.
"Hm?" she said, seeming to break out a reverie.
"You okay?" he asked softly; the book in his hand dropping, forgotten, to his lap.
"Oh yes," she said, placing the ornament back and sighing deeply. "I gave Professor McGonagall a card and letter that I wrote for my parents. I have no idea if she'll be able to send it or not. I knew when they left we wouldn't be able to maintain a regular correspondence." She hugged her knees to her chest then and rested her chin on her knees. In a barely audible voice, she said, "I wonder what they're doing for the holidays?"
Harry put an arm around her and rubbed her back. He knew Hermione was especially missing her parents now that it was the holidays. She hadn't gone home every holiday to be with them over the last five years, but in the past, at least she'd had the choice. "Wherever they are," he said. "I'm sure they're thinking of you."
Hermione leaned into Harry and nodded against his chest. After a few moments she pulled away, picked up a box with fairy lights and said, "Let's not use a spell to trim the tree, let's just do it the old-fashioned muggle way, shall we?"
As Harry had never trimmed a tree either way, it made no difference to him and so they spent the rest of the afternoon hanging every single string of lights and garland, every bow and bauble, and every ribbon and ball on the towering tree. They had to resort to levitating the last ornaments for the top of the tree and Hermione had found a nifty bow-tying charm that she used to secure a gold-trimmed, red plaid bow to the tallest tip of the tree.
They both stood back and squinted at the tree. "I think we should add the self-contained snow storm spell to it," Hermione said. "Don't you think that would look beautiful to have snow falling on the tree?"
"Absolutely," answered Remus from the doorway where he leaned against the frame, his arms crossed and surveying the room.
"Remus, when did you get back?" Hermione asked. As she turned to greet Remus, Harry smiled, noticing that glitter from the ornaments was now sparkling on her face and in her hair. It gave her a rather angelic glow.
"Me? Oh, I got back hours ago. But you two were busy so I took care of some errands I had to run." Remus gave them a knowing look and walked into the room, seating himself in one of the club chairs, angled now towards the shimmering tree. "Looks good, you two want dinner up here tonight?" Just as Remus asked this, Fang came padding in to the room and stood, mouth open and tongue lolling out, looking up expectantly at all three of them. Remus shook his head and said, "One mention of food and he comes calling."
*
*
As they ate dinner, Hermione and Harry filled Lupin in on the latest happenings at Hogwarts—both the mundane and the perplexing. Hermione told him how Harry had used an Extendable Ear to overhear Malfoy, Crabbe and Nott in Hogsmeade.
"Ah, yes. I do seem to recall the incident," Remus said. "What did you overhear?" he asked Harry.
Harry recalled it yet again and Hermione explained how frustrated she was to not be able to locate a Formulary for reference, which would give the active magical properties of a compound as well as serve as an index for all potions associated with the ingredient.
"Did you try asking Snape?" Remus asked half-heartedly.
Hermione shook her head. "That won't help. I know the basics—fluxweed is an ingredient used to regulate the dissolution and systematic uptake of functional effects within a potion." At Harry and Remus' shared looks of bafflement, she explained, "It's used to control how long a potion takes effect. Fluxweed. Fluctuation. Get it?"
"Oh," they chorused.
"Actually, I think I knew that," Harry said, frowning. "But that does nothing to narrow it down, Hermione. Doesn't the potency of it depend upon all sorts of factors—" A light seemed to go on in Harry's mind as he recalled the overheard conversation. "—and they said the full moon was holding them up! Remus—when was the last full moon exactly?"
"The eighth," Remus said automatically.
"That's nearly five days after we overheard Malfoy in Hogsmeade," Hermione said, nodding along. "Whatever phase they need to pick the fluxweed, it has to be—"
"—the full moon," she and Harry both said at the same time.
Hermione said, "Knowing that narrows down the possible potions they might be cooking up."
Harry added, "And it means they won't be ready with whatever they're planning at least until after—?"
Harry looked expectantly at Remus, who only squinted and thought for a moment before answering, "January seventh."
Harry and Hermione looked at each other. "We won't be back to school by then," she said.
"They'll be home and free to do whatever they're planning without any way for us to spy," Harry said. His mind was working fast. They're probably at Malfoy Manor. Probably will have loads of help from Goyle and Malfoy's mother and, oh, not to mention... his lovely Aunt Bella! The tone of voice in Harry's mind was mocking and angering him quickly. I hope Malfoy suffers some more Unforgivable practice, he thought bitterly.
"Harry," Remus said sternly and breaking Harry away from his thoughts that had him clenching his fists and grinding his teeth. "Don't even think about trying to spy on anyone now. At school where you overhear things and are relatively safe is completely different—but you are not leaving here to do something foolish." Remus gave Harry a good long look; Harry could feel Hermione looking sternly at him, as well. Remus relaxed then and looked smug as he said, "Besides, that's why we have Snape in the Order. Albus will be by this week and we'll make a point of expressing our concerns to him. Snape can easily conduct a home visit of one of his pupils and do a little reconnaissance. Personally, I've noted he hasn't been called by Voldemort—that we know of—for well over a month. I think he ought to start pulling his weight."
This type of candid bitterness from Remus was rare; he was most often very even-tempered and a voice of moderate reason and emotion. Harry wondered briefly what had been getting at Remus's nerves to have him talking this way. Hermione, who also seemed to notice the touchiness of the subject, switched the topic by asking, "So, Remus, I noticed you've set up the library here as your office. I went in there earlier to search for a Formulary and had to move some maps over to get to the shelves. Was that all right?"
The scowl washed away from Remus' face and was replaced by his usually calm demeanour. "Oh, yes, sorry about that. Actually, Moody and I had been using the dining room on the ground floor as a central office of sorts here but I moved that stuff upstairs in anticipation of the Celebration."
Maps and trending charts were constantly being updated with each new known or suspected Death Eater attack across Great Britain. Still nothing of the sort had been reported as occurring on the continent. Remus and Moody, the two most full time Order members and members of the Inner Council were overseeing the tracking of the attacks.
The Order's mission in tracking these attacks and gathering reports from their elaborate network of contacts concerning these events was to discern the ultimate plans and aims of Voldemort. They assumed, of course, that Voldemort's ultimate plans at this time would all eventually lead back to Harry in some way. A smaller aim of Voldemort, they knew, was his regaining of the eleven devoted servants he'd lost at the battle in the Department of Mysteries. His most grand and ultimate plan, they took for granted to be Voldemort's decisive conquering of all those who would oppose him, establish his rule as supreme and unchallenged and finally, to become immortal for all of time. The Heir of Slytherin was nothing if not ambitious.
"Well," Remus said, leaning back in his chair and stretching as their empty plates disappeared from the Drawing Room table. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm a bit tired and ready to turn in. I imagine you two can amuse yourselves?" he asked, his eyes twinkling not completely unlike Dumbledore's often did. Remus then added, "Oh yes, and I believe old Mad-Eye plans on coming by early tomorrow morning to put you through your paces, Harry. He wants to make sure you've not fallen weak and off of your game while away at school. Expect him to arrive early and hex you before you've eaten breakfast." Remus smiled pleasantly and left for bed.
Mentally checking off the spells Harry would have to erect before falling asleep in anticipation of Moody's arrival, Harry arose and, with his wand, packed up the empty boxes and tidied the room. He picked up the slim book on holiday home decorating and, finding the charm for the self-contained snow storm, waved his wand over the glimmering tree and watched as a whirl of silvery white snow danced out of the tip of his wand and converged upon the tree. A softly glowing white cloud hung itself over the top of the tree and from it, snowflakes began to softly fall, landing upon the evergreen branches and making the sleepy little fairies blink up in dreamy delight.
"It's lovely," Hermione said from beside him.
Harry rather thought so too and smiled as he watched the enchanted snow fall. He turned and pulled Hermione to him, his arms around her waist. "You are quite lovely, too, you know," he said. She smiled up at him lazily and he laughed softly seeing even her eyelashes held tiny flecks of glitter on them. "You've got glitter all about your face and hair," he said with amusement as he smoothed his palm over her cheek and then her hair.
"So do you," she said, her eyes sparkling as they ran over his features. Hermione ran a hand through his hair and Harry sighed, leaning into it. He absolutely loved the feel of this. "Remind me to write a note to Tonks, tomorrow," she said, her brow furrowed in thought.
Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "Do I want to know why looking at me makes you think of writing to Tonks?"
"That depends," Hermione said slowly. "Do you want to tell me the last time you got your hair cut?"
Harry rolled his eyes and pulled her just a bit tighter to him. "Why are you on about this? I told you it was this summer; my aunt made me."
Hermione still looked unconvinced and asked, "And do you usually go some six months in between hair cuts?"
Harry shrugged and said, "No, the last one before that I was ten. But I had hundreds of haircuts when I was little. It's only fair I don't have to have them as often now."
Hermione looked incredulously at Harry, pulling back to make sure he wasn't teasing her. "You're serious?" she asked, her mouth agape. Harry had the sinking feeling that he was yet again guilty of not being normal. "Harry, don't you think—"
"Please don't go on and tell me I'm, yet again, not normal," he cut in. "If this isn't normal, then I want to remain oblivious. Please," he pleaded, looking into her eyes. He could see she was conflicted between dissecting something about him that was bothering her and not upsetting him. "Why don't we turn in for the night?" he suggested, as a slight pout played upon his mouth. "You know what I've missed more than anything while we've been away?" he asked, resting his head beside hers and whispering into her ear. "Sleeping beside you and you waking up beside me." He pulled back and looked into her eyes; a few flecks of glitter glinted on her lashes. "I've missed that terribly."
She gave in without a word and, with a last look to see Fang and Crookshanks curled up together by the hearth, they retreated to Harry's room upstairs. As Hermione, ready for bed, slipped under the covers they'd already rumpled earlier in the afternoon and joined Harry, they were silent. They lay facing each other while Hermione's head rested in the crook of his arm and their clasped hands rested on her chest. The only sound in the room was the crackling of logs from the fireplace; the light from which was just barely enough for Harry to see the silhouetted features of her face.
As they had walked upstairs and parted to prepare for bed, Harry's mind had run through all the things that marked him as different. There was of course the Boy Who Lived thing, the prophecy that started it all, the fact Harry had endured ten years of being called an abnormal freak and had thought nothing odd of living in a cupboard under the stairs. Then there were his strange and inherited abilities from Voldemort such as Parseltongue and, he desperately hoped, nothing else. Oh yes, also his strange scar connection to Voldemort, the distinctive scar itself that made him instantly recognizable to anyone in the Wizarding world and the fact he routinely now could hear a host of indistinct voices in his mind as he would drift off to sleep each night.
But all of these thoughts vanished from his mind when he held Hermione. With her, he felt peace. In fact the only thing he was consciously aware of as they lay silently thinking to themselves in bed, was just how at peace and utterly blank his mind was.
"I should have taken to sleeping beside you last year," he said softly, breaking the silence. She turned to face him, moved a hand up and cupped his cheek. "You're presence is the most reliable way to banish all thoughts from my mind."
Worry etched her face instantly and she asked, "Harry, have you been having dreams again?"
"No," he answered honestly. "Not dreams." It then seemed strange to Harry that, although he'd been intending to discuss his resident voices with both Hermione and Dumbledore since Halloween, he somehow never seemed to remember this intention while in their presence.
"What do you mean 'not dreams'?" Hermione asked, propping herself up on one elbow and looking concerned. "If not dreams, then what? Harry—what?"
Part of him felt relief that he was finally remembering to inform her about this now and part of him just wanted to shove it aside for the morning. Harry guessed this would promise to be a lengthy discussion when it finally occurred. "Look, I've been meaning to tell you—"
"Tell me what?" Hermione demanded.
"Shh—it's not a big deal. I just keep forgetting!" he said, trying to allay her fears. "It's apt to take a bit of explaining though. I promise to tell you everything if you'll just ask me in the morning?" he tried to suggest.
"What?!" she sat up in bed now and had both hands clutching at his chest. "Are you mad? I can't sleep now! Just tell me!"
Harry sighed deeply and said, "It's nothing new."
"Does Professor Dumbledore know?"
"Yes, well I haven't brought it up recently with him but yes he knows."
"Recently! How long has—this—been going on?"
This was definitely not going well. Hermione's eyes were wide with trepidation and it looked like she wanted to both scream and cry. "Hermione, calm down," Harry pleaded.
This did not seem to help. "Harry," she said warningly.
"Just let me start from the beginning all right?"
Hermione seemed to gather her strength again then and nodded once. She reached over to the nightstand on her side and pointed her wand at the hearth, causing the fire to flare brighter and to give them more light. She clearly meant for neither of them to fall off into slumber without completing this conversation. "From the beginning," she said.
Harry sat up more against the headboard and resigned himself to the fact she was determined to do this now. "I've been hearing voices."
"Like snakes?"
"What?"
"Like when you were hearing the Basilisk because you understood Parseltongue? What kind of voices?" The instant concern on her face would almost have been comical if it hadn't been so serious.
"No, no, not like that," Harry said, shaking his head. She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Harry thought back for a moment and tried to think how best to describe this. "Do you remember the veil?" he asked. Hermione looked perplexed. "Do you remember what you heard when we were near the veil?"
Hermione shook her head slowly. "Harry, I never heard anything."
"But you felt their presence?" The memory of the mesmerizing and alluring pull of the veil and the sense of people, murmuring, just beyond it was vivid in Harry's memory. "Remember?"
"Harry," she was shaking her head again. "It felt sinister and it's—it's death! You know it's a portal to the afterlife, Harry. Why are you asking about this? You're not changing the subject from these voices you hear, are you?"
"No," Harry said hurriedly. He still couldn't believe she hadn't felt any of what he had when they'd been near the veil. "No, just listen." Harry sighed and closed his eyes as he recalled how he'd felt. "To me, the veil seemed...intriguing...alluring...like sunlight creeping in through an eastern window and promising the view of a brilliant dawn and like if I just went up there and parted it I would see the most amazing sight."
"Harry..."
"There were these voices calling to me." Hermione was trembling now and Harry was oblivious as he recalled how he felt. "I couldn't understand them but it was like they meant for me to hear them and were beckoning me to come to them."
"No." Hermione's voice broke over the word. Tears had welled in her eyes and her breathing was ragged as if trying to hold back from completely crying.
Her voice startled Harry from his reverie and, as he opened his eyes, he was even more startled to see her trembling and near tears. "Why are you crying?"
She took one choking sob before saying, "Harry, the veil is death." Her eyes were wild, begging him to see her reason. "You...can't mean what you say...it's death!" Her eyes were pleading and as she blinked, tears rolled down from each eye, leaving silvery, glittery tracks down her checks and onto her lips. "You can't mean what you say..."
It's death. The words echoed in Harry's mind as her meaning slowly revealed itself to him. Death was alluring to him, she thought. Did he feel the same? He anxiously probed his feelings on this and a small reluctant part of him admitted, sometimes. But it's not an option, he thought firmly, almost admonishingly to himself. He looked at Hermione; more tears had tracked their way down her face. "I'm not going to die," he said.
Her face screwed up for a moment and in a very small voice, she said, "Everyone dies eventually, Harry." Her hand reached out and caressed his face, making him realize that somehow tears had also appeared on his own cheek.
"I'm not giving in," he said. She couldn't really think that of him, could she? "I would never give up." Part of him quietly wondered if she was the only one he was trying to convince.
Another sob broke from Hermione as she struggled to hold herself together. "But," she took a deep, shuddering breath, "if you had to give your life...if you had to...to beat Voldemort..." Another sob broke out from her chest and her eyes were screwed so tight to hold back tears he couldn't even see them anymore. "You would, wouldn't you?" she whispered fearfully.
He'd never allowed himself to lend any thought to this option. For some reason it was one of the most frightening options of the prophecy that he didn't want to believe could be a possibility. And it shouldn't be a possibility, he thought fiercely. "But 'either must die'..." he said weakly, looking at Hermione, hoping, willing her sound logic and methodical reason to see his point.
"But what if it means..." her voice trailed off in a whinge.
Harry was dumbstruck. He wanted to chase this thought from her mind, never to return again and yet, at the same time, he was blindsided by it. "You think I'm going to die? That we'll both die?" His voice sounded far away even to him.
She took another deep, shuddering breath and looked down at his chest. "It's possible, isn't it?"
"But do you think that's what will happen?" His voice sounded much stronger now than he felt. As she looked up and met his eyes, he felt an overwhelming need to protect her, to make her not fear, to promise her he'd never leave her. He held her face in both hands and, looking straight into her eyes, willed her to believe—to feel—his intent to never leave her. From deep within, his heart was bursting and a fresh tear spilled out from his eye, rolling down his cheek. With conviction, he said, "I'm not giving up and I'll do whatever it takes to beat him, but leaving you is not an option."
Her hands held his face as his did hers and as more tears spilled from both of their eyes, in a shaking voice she said, "Harry...I love—" He crushed his mouth to hers, not allowing her to finish; tasting the salt of their mingled tears. Against her lips, he rushed out, "I know, I know. I do, I know..." He held her face tight to his as his eyes burned with more unshed tears. He had to get himself under control.
"You know?" she asked, her lips still against his. She sobbed once and, their mouths still crushed against each others, said, "You do?" She broke down then, not able to hold back from sobbing uncontrollably and the only other words she managed were, "Oh, Harry."
They sat rocking each other and both crying as Harry's mind teamed with thoughts of: What have I done? I'm not going to die, and I'm not going to leave her alone; I never want her to feel she's alone. As their tears had subsided and they'd lain back, embracing, Harry's mind was nowhere near sleep and he'd lost all track of how long they'd been lying there.
"Harry?" her voice came from her head resting on his shoulder. He was slightly surprised that she wasn't asleep.
"Mm, hmm?" He was staring off into the fire, resting back against a pillow propped against the headboard.
"What about these voices you've been hearing?" she asked, lifting her head up, wiping at her eyes and looking up at him.
"Oh," he said, remembering the reason they'd began talking in the first place. "Right. Oh, yes." And there it was again, he thought. He'd completely forgotten, gotten off track from the voices he'd fully intended on discussing with her. It was like the memory of them, much less the voices themselves, didn't even exist when he was with her.
"You were talking about the voices you heard from the veil," she reminded him. He hadn't forgotten.
"Right. I know. They're kind of like that." He saw a flash of pain across her face and he quickly said, "No, not the same voices. These aren't alluring. You see the voices I heard from the veil—they were indistinct. Like they were just muttering or a conversation you might hear from beyond a thick door; you know someone is there but you can't hear what they are saying. Anyway, these voices are sort of like that."
"But they're not alluring?" she asked.
"No. They're...soothing for the most part...like a humming lullaby or something. I swear they put me to sleep. I haven't had one glimpse of Voldemort in any dream since the visions about Sirius and, well, I can't really think of any dreams I've even remembered having since then."
"How long have you been hearing the voices?" she asked as she pulled herself up and looked more squarely at him.
"I don't know exactly when they started," Harry said. "But sometime after Sirius died and when I was back at Little Whinging." Her mouth gaped at the fact it had gone on for so long and he said, "Oh, don't worry. I told Dumbledore about them this summer—even before I came to headquarters. He doesn't think they're Voldemort and even if they were, they were only helping me to sleep and certainly weren't hurting anything. He didn't seem concerned."
Hermione was searching his face, trying to make sense of this. He could see her mind working furiously. "Do you hear them now?"
Harry listened for a moment; feeling a bit foolish. "No." Her brow furrowed deeper in thought. "It's only been as I'm falling asleep or...just drifting off at night." But there had been a few times when it'd seemed to be more, he remembered. He remembered believing he heard them the night the sword of Gryffindor took up residence in his body; the night he'd been named Lead Light and the night he'd sworn he'd heard the voice of his father rise up from among the others that had seemed to be given clarity as they'd harmonized with the Phoenix Song he'd heard. Were they the people who would have been beyond the veil? The people whose voices might have seemed alluring to him?
"Harry?" Hermione said, bringing him back from his thoughts. "What do they say? Can't you hear anything?"
He sighed and his fingers absently played with hers. "There was the time I was named Lead Light and the Sorting Hat was on me and there was Phoenix Song—I heard, well, I thought I heard them then. But they were, well, they seemed to be singing? No words, but maybe...it seemed they were raised in song and again—they were heartening." Saying he'd heard the voice of his dead father seemed stupid now and his mind rationalized it must have been the voice of the Sorting Hat that sang out any words clear and strong.
Hermione was still looking at him closely, like she wished she could read his mind. He knew she was trying to understand this but he also knew it was futile; it was intangible—even to him. Finally, she asked, "Was that the only time?"
He frowned again. "Halloween." He recalled the voices rising as the Order meeting that night had worn on. "It's one of the only times I can remember hearing them while trying to concentrate on something else; while not just about to fall asleep." Again, she gaped at him, trying to take this all in. "I started hearing them when we were at the Hogshead Inn, meeting. I guess...they seemed to grow louder as the night wore on."
"That was the night of the first attacks," she recalled.
He nodded. "Yeah, I've been meaning to tell you about them ever since then. When I got back in the Common room that night, I meant to mention it to you but I was so tired. And then the next morning, well, it was totally pushed from my mind."
"And what did Dumbledore say about that?" she asked.
"Er," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck.
"You haven't told him?!"
"I keep forgetting!" Harry gave a look, begging her to believe him. "I was going to and I even went back to his office that night intending to discuss it but then Snape barged in and I had to leave! I just keep forgetting and have only ever thought of it when neither of you were around to bring it up." She looked skeptical. "Honest."
Sighing, she asked, "Anything else about these voices you've forgot to mention?" Again Harry looked away and scratched the back of his head. "What?" she demanded.
Meekly, Harry offered, "They've seemed a bit unsettled since Halloween. Sometimes more than others." He cast a sideways look at Hermione. She looked even more perplexed.
"What does that mean? Unsettled?"
"I don't know," he said, shrugging. "But look, I'm not worried about it or anything," he said, again trying to allay her worries about this.
"Oh! You're not worried, eh?" she said, her voice high. She turned and looked off to the side for a moment, thinking and then turned back to him and threw him a dirty look. "You are going to write Professor Dumbledore tomorrow—as soon as you wake up."
"But Moody's coming."
"Fine! After Moody—whatever. You're writing him, though."
"But," Harry protested, frowning. "I'd rather do it in person."
"Why?" she asked, one brow arched.
"Because it's harder to pout and look sorry for forgetting to say something sooner in a letter?"
Hermione growled and rolled her eyes, slapping her hand against her forehead. Harry grinned cheekily. "Can we please go to sleep now? I've told you everything. And Moody's going to be here, ready to hex me in probably only a few short hours from now."
Hermione sighed and waved her wand towards the fireplace, lowering the flames again to a soft flicker. After setting her wand aside again, she turned and slid down while Harry pulled to covers up and over them. They lay facing each other; foreheads touching, feet entwined and hands clasped as Harry waited for her to have the last word. She kissed him chastely on the lips and said, "You're still writing a letter to Dumbledore tomorrow—even if it's just to say you need to talk to him about something." Harry just smiled and nodded ever so slightly against her before closing his eyes and drifting off into sleep, content to know she'd be there when he woke up.
*
*
The next morning, Harry awoke to the luxury of his arms, although a bit numb, wrapped completely around Hermione. He would have been quite content to lie there all morning if it hadn't been for the knowledge that, with the sun just beginning to peak in through the window, Moody was likely well on his way to headquarters right about now. He slipped out of the bed soundlessly and saw the fire flare higher as he crossed in front of it, his feet freezing, as he dug through the wardrobe looking for his dressing gown, slippers and clothes for the day. Finding them, he shrugged on the dressing gown, hastily slid his freezing feet into the slippers and took the armful of clothes with him as he crossed the room. With one last look back at the beautiful sleeping face of Hermione, he left to shower and start his day.
The morning flew by as Moody grilled Harry continually on about a million things he'd never covered at all during the summer but kept telling Harry he ought to know by now.
"Why aren't you properly aligned?" the ex-Auror growled, flinging yet another jinx at an already itchy-eared Harry. "Present the narrowest target to your opponent! Now, unless you're as wide as that cousin of yours, Potter, that means you ought to be standing sideways and pointing your wand at me!"
Stumbling and swatting at his ears with his wand to reverse the Itchy Ears Jinx, Harry dove to the ground to only just avoid another spell from Moody. "Diplopia!" he shouted, aiming at Moody's head. Hoping the Double-Vision Jinx would give even Moody pause, Harry rushed straight at him and muttered, "Proviso Protego," to delay his Shield Charm from activating until Moody had fired a spell.
Moody vacillated between the two rapidly approaching Harrys and took aim in the center as a jet of red light shot out of his wand, only to be reflected by a blue shield that appeared as if out of thin air. As Harry had been advancing steadily, Moody had no time to dodge nor deflect his own stunner and fell to the ground.
Panting, Harry bent over to catch his breath, performed a quick Switching Spell to remove Moody's wand from his hand and waited for Moody to break out of his stupefied state.
"Not bad, Potter," he huffed from the floor. "Not great, but not bad. And why do I still have this?!" he shouted, sitting up and pointing what he just now realized was not his wand but was actually his peg-leg. His one good eye blinked once, the magical eye focusing in on Harry, before he jabbed his half-leg that now had his wand attached to it at Harry, making silver and red sparks fly out of it.
Harry laughed and dodged most of the sparks as only a few singed his trouser leg but were deflected easily by his dragonhide boots beneath.
Moody kept grumbling as he tried to pull his wand off from his knee and finally barked out, "Potter! Stop smirking and get your arse over here! Unstick this damn thing now!" He thrust his half-leg, half-wand limb out and, with his hand, shook his wooden peg at Harry. "No bloody way for me to reverse the damn sticking charm on it without using my wand. Careful there!" he griped as Harry, trying not to laugh, performed a de-sticking charm to release the wand from his knee. Reattaching his wooden leg, Moody jumped up and grumbled, "I think you've had enough for the day. You're out of practice and probably need to rest."
Harry actually thought it was much more likely Moody was done for the day and was the one who needed the rest but wasn't about to say so. Harry turned to fix several chairs that had toppled over and one that had been reduced to pieces. The large barren space that had served as the practice hall all of last summer now sported a polished hardwood floor and was also being used as a location for Remus' work to restore several pieces of worn antique furniture that he'd found in the attic. Unfortunately, Harry had summoned a few forth to shield him from some of Moody's most rapid attacks.
"You got a training schedule in mind for your holidays, now?" Moody asked, limping over a bit gingerly and watching Harry try to repair one particular Queen Anne style side chair.
"Er, well, I suppose Hermione has something in mind," Harry said. A large chunk of wood was missing from one of the front legs of the chair and he searched the floor for where the missing chunk might be.
A gnarled hand on his shoulder made him stop and turn to see Moody studying him closely. "You rely on her an awful lot, do you now?" he asked as even his magical eye focused forward on Harry's face.
"She is very reliable," Harry said evenly.
Moody looked at him a moment longer and, with a grunt, turned and gimped away. Not pausing to look back (well, not face back anyway), Moody called out; "Relying on people is a weakness! You need to prepare yourself to get on by yourself!" He paused by the door and now looked back and said, "You never know when someone you've come to rely on might suddenly not be there any longer. You quill a schedule on what times and dates you'll have free to train up over your holidays. We can start after Boxing Day and don't schedule anything for Tuesday nights--it's my Bridge Club."
Harry turned back and absently continued to search for the missing chuck of wood. You never know when someone you've come to rely on might suddenly not be there any longer. And on that cheery note, have a great day, Moody, thought Harry sarcastically. "Accio stupid missing piece of wood," Harry growled, waving his wand in a circle around the scattered furniture. Nothing came to him and he gave up. Brilliant, he thought. Just brilliant.
*********
NOTE: As usual, I will remind you that there is a Yahoo group for this fic. The group name is HP_AoF and a link to the site can be found on my bio page. ~~~Cheers~~~