Having a Fight
"I can't believe you didn't tell me!" Ron said. "Selfish," he said.
"I am not selfish, it was just a little weird. Wouldn't you be a little scared if you saw your parents in a mirror?" Harry asked. Ron was about to answre when Harry said, "Dead parents, Ron."
"Oh, well then, yeah I guess I would get a bit scared." Ron said.
"I thought so," Harry said. They entered the Great Hall where everyone was chatting to eachother about their first day back from holiday.
"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked.
"Probably in the library," Harry said. "She's still absolutely obsessed with finding out who Nicolas Flamel is,"
"Hey look!" Ron said, pointing at the window. Hedwig flew into the Great Hall and landed on the table. "I think your owl's a bit off," Ron said. Harry took the wet letter from Hedwig's beak and she flew off again. "Well then, what's it say?" Ron asked.
"It's from Dymphna," Harry said.
Harry,
I'm currently writing this from my father's yaht out in the Mediteranian. Crap, did I spell that right? Let me try again. Mederteranian. Oh well. I'll look it up when I get home. Anyways...
My father lent us his yaht because he didn't give me a car because Katerina totalled my the 'Stang. I can't believe she did that. Do you know how much that baby cost? And it was working perfectly too! But Katerina had to go and (something was crossed off several times here) total it! So, on other topics. How's school? Learning all sorts of new and interesting stuff, right? No? Okay then.
Oh, right. You wanted to know about Nicolas Flamel? Okay then. He's an alkemist, of Philosifers Stone renown. Did some work with Albus Dumbledore too.
I've got to go, they're serving caviar in the gallie...no, no, galley. That's it, galley.
Dymphna.
PS: Katerina's currently a bit depressed, she took over the kitchens and baked cookies (with tiny chocolates) for fourteen hours. I think she needs a therapist.
"Okay, I've got it." Harry said. "Nicolas Flamel is a noted alchemist who made the Philosopher's Stone!" he said.
"How did she know that?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged.
"Dunno but she's got shoddy spelling," he said. "Come on, we've got to go tell Hermione!"
"What's the big deal? She's just a bit angry,"
"A bit angry? A bit ANGRY?"
"Okay, okay. So she's not 'just a bit angry',"
"Mafalda, I don't think you truly understand where I'm coming from." Felan said. Seated across from him was his cousin Mafalda who was sitting with her hands folded tightly in her lap and her faded green eyes shut tightly.
"Okay, tell me then." Mafalda said.
"So she accuses me of liking Marlaina--"
"The Foley girl, Felan? I thought you knew better than to like her while you're still friends with Fi." Mafalda said.
"That's not the point," Felan said.
"Fine," Mafalda sighed. "Go on,"
"So she randomly accuses me of fancying Marlaina and then she poisons me and walks out! Okay, maybe not in that order but..."
"It's a typical girl thing, Felan. You have nothing to worry about."
"Nothing to worry about? Nothing to worry about?"
"So you like the redheaded tart then?" Mafalda asked.
"Well, her hair's not really red. It's more a darker tone--"
"That's a yes then,"
"When did I say yes?" Felan asked.
"Well, aside from the fact that the last time I saw you, you were still refering to her as 'that Foley girl', and that you have her pictured in your head now-- you're smitten." Mafalda said.
"I am not!"
"Are too!"
"I am not going to get into this with you!" Felan said. "I'm going to go see Harry!"
"Harry? I haven't seen him in a while, can I come?" Mafalda asked getting up.
"No! You stay here!" Mafalda huffed and stomped her foot as he left the cave. When he was a good distance away, she started talking, "You can come out now, Fi." she said. She heard the older girl walk towards her and sit down.
"I told you so," Fi said.
"You didn't tell me anything." Mafalda said.
"Yes, but I'd like to think I did."
"And you were wrong with her hair color too," Mafalda said.
"It's not my fault," Fi whined. "It was Dee who specified for me."
"What color're my eyes, Fi?" Mafalda asked, opening her eyes. Fi looked hard at Mafalda's eyes.
"Blue?" she asked uncertainly.
"Will you two stop messing around?" Wood yelled. All practice, Fred and George had been dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off of their brooms. "You see, this is the kind of thing that's going to lose us the match! Snape'll look for anything to knock points off of us!" George really did fall off of his broom this time.
"Snape's refereeing?" he asked through a mouthful of mud. Wood nodded.
"It's not my fault," he said. "We've just got to play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."
"Please, Snape always has an excuse to pick on us!" Harry complained. Or at least me...
"If we play a good game, then it won't matter if he picks on us or not!" Wood said. After practice, Harry rushed back to Gryffindor common room where he found Ron and Hermione playing chess.
"What's the matter with you? You look terrible!" Ron said. Speaking very quietly, so no one else could hear, Harry told them all about what Wood had told the team.
"Don't play," Hermione said at once.
"Say you're ill," Ron said.
"Pretend to have an injury," Hermione suggested.
"Really have an injury," said Ron.
"I can't," Harry said. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."
They won the game, in almost record time too. Harry suspected it was because there weren't any... outside influences, but either way, they still showed Snape. He left the field, white faced and mad looking and made his way up to the school.
Harry hurried to Gryffindor tower to send a letter to Dymphna telling her about his win. He ran to his room and dug a quill and roll of parchment out from his bookbag, then flopped on his bed and started writing.
Dymphna,
Mediterranean is how I think you spell it. Not too sure though.
I won a Quidditch match in FIVE MINUTES, how great is that? I'm going to try for four minutes next time. Write me back and send more mars bars, I need to celebrate.
Harry.
Eh, he would send it off later...but he wanted Mars bars now, but it could wait he guessed. He looked out the window and saw a cloaked figure running off into the woods. Interesting. He decided to follow the person before they ran off. He grabbed the Nimbus 2000, opened the window and went off on it, slamming the window shut behind him. The figure entered a clearing in the forest where Professor Quirrell was sitting on a rock, that ridiculous purple turban wrapped around his head, looking paler than usual. Harry glided toward the tallest tree and landed noislessly in the leaves. He hung on to one of the branches with his legs and swung upside down to hear better.
"...d-don't know why you'd want t-t-to meet me here of all p-places, Severus." Uh oh, the blood was rushing to Harry's head, would it have hurt to have thought this through more? But he couldn't get up now, they would here him.
"I thought we'd keep this private," this sounded dodgy. "Students aren't supposed to know..." about what? Harry wondered. "About the Philosopher's stone," Oh thank Gaia. Harry grabbed a branch right below him and swung his legs over so that he could sit comfortably; facing the other side, but still comfortably.
"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?" asked Snape.
"B-b-but Severus, I--"
"You don't want me as your enemy Quirrell," Snape said.
"I don't know what y-you--"
"You know perfectly well what I mean," Harry idly picked off a leaf and started shredding it to little bits as he listened.
"B-b-but I don't--"
"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat later, when you've had time to think things over and decide where your loyalties lie." Harry heard him walk out of the clearing. Guess he'd have a little more to add to that letter.
"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaked.
"We won! You won! We won!" Ron shouted. "And I gave Malfoy a black eye!"
"Nevermind that now," Harry said breathlessly. "We have to find an empty room, wait until you here this." He made sure Peeves wasn't in the room before he shut the door and told them everything he'd heard.
"So we're right," Hermione started. "It is the Philosophers' Stone and Snape is trying to steal it!"
"But there must be other things besides Fluffy," Ron said. "Spells and the like,"
"And Quirrell must know how to get past some of them," Harry said.
"So you're saying, as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape, the stone is safe?" Hermione asked.
"It'll be gone by next Tuesday." Ron said. On their way out of the room, Harry saw Fi, but she didn't seem to be looking for him at all, so he continued on to the common room. Then he was roughly pulled into a broom closet.
"Harry!" it was Felan.
"Felan, start being more careful!" Harry whispered harshly. "My friends are outside,"
"Sorry," Felan said. "I need help. Fi's not talking to me,"
"That's an oddity," Harry deadpanned. "Listen, I really need to get--"
"No, listen. She won't even stay in the same room with me! And Mafalda's not being any sort of sympathetic to my cause,"
"Mafalda's there?" Harry asked. "How'd she get from Shannon to the caves without me knowing?"
"Dunno, anyways. Help, please talk to her?" Felan asked.
"Don't you have other friends?" Harry asked, shifting so he wasn't being poked by a broom.
"Yeah, but--"
"Talk to them and then Fi will eventually get bored with not talking to you and start talking to you like nothing ever happened again." Harry advised.
"Hm," Felan thought about that for a moment. "That's a good idea." he said. "I'm done, you can go." Harry nodded and opened the door to the broom closet. Hermione and Ron were standing outside, twin expressions of confusion on their face.
"Erm... that... spider on me," Harry said. "Had to squish it but then it went all wonky and pushed me?"
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A/N: Yes, as explained before, Harry isn't as quick a story-thinker-upper as Fi is. And FYI, Mafalda is blind, which is why her eyes are kind of blank and faded, but her hearing and nose work well enough. Nothing much to say about this chapter, one of the hardest ones to get out though.
IN THE NEXT CHAPTER!: Having to Explain, Harry is a werewolf? Gasp! Shock! The Fianna celebrate Imbolc (huge party and everyone drinks themselves into a semi-coma), Harry sends a hypothetical letter to Dymphna, and Harry skives off.
MILK AND COOKIES TO ALL REVIEWERS! PS: No chapter until hm...45 reviews. that shouldn't be so hard.