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Chapter 8
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Harry was laying in bed musing over his summer. The days he had spent with the Weasleys were the best he could wish for. To them he was just another child. A normal kid. And he was lucky to be friends with Ron and Ginny. He was just part of one big happy family. It was probably as close to heaven as he could get.
He did feel slightly bad about not telling Ron and Hermione the whole truth about his eventful summer. But it just did not seem right to tell them about Snape, despite his promise. Nor would bringing up the fact that Irvan was a vampire going to do any good. So he had left those two out of his story. They did know about Irvan. It was impossible to skip that one. If he was going to lie then he had better make it as close to the truth as he could.
Rising softly, so as not to wake Ron, Harry moved to the window. He was still having trouble sleeping, though he hadn't woken up the household be screaming. That was always good, he supposed. He still wasn't clear as to why, but at least he wasn't causing anyone else to miss out on their much needed sleep.
"Tomorrow Hermione's coming," he said quietly. He had gotten into the habit of speaking aloud when no one could hear him. It help him keep his thoughts together. And it was much more accepted to talk to your pets than to yourself. Harry talked to Hedwig sometimes, but she was not always there when he had something that needed to be said. Hagrid's gift was. He had gotten into the habit of bring the tarantula everywhere. Sort of like Neville and his toad, or Ron and the rat formerly known as Scabbers. "Then we'll go down to Diagon Alley, buy our books, wander around, come back, then leave the next day for Hogwarts." The spider, Evan, was sitting on the window sill. It was almost always there when Harry was in the room. Sometimes it was an the bedside table, much to Ron's disgust. "You are probably getting bored listening to me. I don't know why I talk to you at all. You can't respond. But you are probably the only one who knows how I feel about being the famous Boy-Who-Lived."
It was true. Usually when he talked to Evan, either this tarantula or the little brown thing at the Dursleys, it was about how everyone wanted to see something from him and he didn't know what it was.
"Well, anyway," he continued on a non related topic. "Hermione's had a lot of questions about what you are, so expect to be studied while we're at school. She's a bit of a bookworm. She knows more about me than me. But that's not saying a lot. The entire Wizarding World seems to know more about me than I do. It's not the best feeling in the world when people come up to me and ask to see my scar. And now with the stupid connection to Voldemort, my life has become loads worse." He yawned, feeling suddenly tried. It was not unusual for him to get tired while talking to Even, but it usually took a lot longer. "Good night, Evan," he said trying to stand. He couldn't move though. Dread coursed through his veins as he recognized the comings of a vision. What had Voldemort so worked up over?
His vision swam as he struggled against the coming onslaught. The Dark Lord was standing in the center of a circle of thirteen. The moment the vision became solid all but two masked Death Eaters vanished. Voldemort then simply walked away from them and paused. Harry was wary of the strange calm that was overshadowing the rage.
"Lucius, make sure the Ministry does not change its position on my return." Voldemort then waved dismissal. Malfoy Disapparated. "Wormtail, bring them out." Petigrew scampered away leaving Harry staring after him trying to make sense of what was occurring. Abruptly, his contemplation was interrupted by the return of Wormtail hovering two bound and gagged figures.
Harry gasped. The woman was old Mrs. Figg. Why would Voldemort want her? She was a harmless, though eccentric, old lady with far too many cats. "Where is he?" Voldemort hissed.
"I don't know," Mrs. Figg responded defiantly. Not afraid in the least of the white faced, red eyed creature leaning over her. Harry cringed prematurely. His other experiences with this lead to application of the Cruciatus Curse and a whole new world of pain.
As predicted, Crucio was uttered and the victim was screaming and withering in pain. "Now, answer me with the truth." Mrs. Figg glared at him as best as she was able given to her agony. "Very well," he grinned. Turning his wand on the man beside her, the grin morphed in to malicious glee.
"No, don't!" Mrs. Figg cried out. "He doesn't know anything! He's just a Muggle."
"As though that would hinder me. Crucio," he said lazily. The man withered in torment. It was a sicking scene. Having been through much the same, Harry sympathized. Then belatedly he realized he couldn't feel the man's pain. Not like he usually did. This time it was muffled. Distant. He knew it was there, he felt it there, but it wasn't a part of him. His scar didn't pulse in rhythm with their screams. It didn't provoke him into joining the chorus. He was just a bystander with sympathy pains.
Voldemort kept the Curse on until the man was choking and gasping through the blood gushed up from his abused lungs. He lifted it for a moment of consideration. Then applied it again. This time until the man was dead. It didn't take long. Harry was disturbedly grateful.
Slowly the imaged faded out and Harry found himself in a black abyss. He had been here before. It was the place he waited for the visions to become dreams and dreams to become visions. It was the only place Harry did not feel anything. In a word, it was peace.
* * * * * * *
"Hey, Harry!" the voice drifted into his subdued consciousness. "Wake up! Come on, we're leaving for Diagon Alley today. And your going to sleep through it." It was Ron, shaking his shoulders in attempt to wake him up.
"I'm up, I'm up," he mumbled. His head felt full of cotton, it didn't hurt but it felt strange. "We're leaving so soon?" he managed.
"Soon? It's almost nine and we promised Hermione to meet her at ten. And you ask if it's soon?" Ron stated shaking his own head. "Come on, if you want something to eat before we leave." Ron left Harry alone and slowly he rolled out of bed and got ready for the day ahead.
"Come on, Evan," he said lightly picking up the spider. "Who knows, you might even like Diagon Alley." The tarantula just curled in on itself and allowed Harry to place it in his pocket. Running down stairs he spotted Ginny. "So what's for breakfast?" He asked.
"Don't know what's left," she replied. "Fred and George plowed through it so fast. But I'm sure Mom will make you something." She disappeared into her room to get ready for a day of shopping.
Harry shrugged and continued down the stairs. "Morning, Mrs Weasley," he called as he entered the kitchen.
"Morning, Harry," she returned kindly. "You'll be wanting something to eat, I suppose. Well, don't touch anything on the table. Merlin knows what Fred and George have done to it. I'll get you a fresh plate." Molly Weasley busied herself with piling bacon and toast and other breakfast items while he took a seat across from the suspicious looking twins. They were whispering together in conspiratorial tones. "Here you are, Harry. Hurry up so we can get to Diagon Alley before the big rush."
He all but wolfed down the meal so they could leave all the sooner.
* * * * * * * * *
"Hermione!"
"Ron! What took you so long?" the fizzy haired witch demanded while she managed to successfully stalked towards them.
"Nothing much. Harry just woke up late," Ron supplied.
"Anything wrong, Harry?" Hermione sounded very concerned.
"Nothing really. Just went to bed late. Nothing to worry about." But Harry was worried. He had forgotten to send an owl to Dumbledore about the dream. He needed to tell the Professor that Mrs. Figg was in trouble, but he could worry his friends about it. They didn't need to bother with that sort of thing.
"That's good. Did you bring Evan with you. I've been researching as much as I can about magical spiders and most of what I found was on the type Aragog is. I know you described the markings but maybe there is something defining that you left out."
"I very much doubt that," Ron said shifting slightly away from the spider. "The amount of time you two spent describing that thing was immense. I very much doubt you missed anything."
"You just don't understand research, Ron," Hermione retorted. Ron backed away from her glare. When the girl got on a rant about studies it was best just to shut up and listen or ignore it. Ron choose to ignore it. "Every little detail matters when trying to identify a species. Oh, there he is." She was cut short as Harry pulled the black tarantula from his pocket. The thing would probably like to sit on his shoulder now that they were out of the floo. "I don't think I ever read about this. I would have noted it because they are so unusual. Where did Hagrid say he got it?"
"He didn't."
"Odd. Well it is definitely magical. Markings like this just don't exist on regular spiders. I checked all the books available at my public library. I even asked my father if he could take me to the university's. Perhaps Hogwarts will have something I couldn't find there. Do you mind if I hold him?"
"Not at all. Though he might want to ride on your shoulder."
"Then it is a good thing that I left Crookshanks with my trunk back at your house, Ron. You're father was nice enough to take it back with him. So what are we waiting for, let's go to Flourish and Blott's and get our books. Is Professor Lupin really returning this year?"
"That's what he said."
"This will be great. Someone who knows what he is taking about and is on our side."
"What more could you ask for," Ron joined in. "Someone who will actually counteract everything Snape does."
"Ron! He is a teacher at the school."
"Yeah. An ugly, evil one at that."
"Ron." Hermione did not add anything because they had arrived at the store. After getting the Standard Book of Advanced Spells I, Standard Advanced Potions I, and the yearly upgrade in Transfigurations, they wandered around to find the defense books. Remus had picked some interesting titles. The Theory on Evasion and Why They are Illegal. Those two books did not sound at all like normal text books. He could guess that they were not going to study creatures anymore and focus more on spells. Especially the Dark ones. He dreaded the thought that they might have it with Slytherins.
"Hey, Ron. Did you see where Hermione went?"
"Towards the back. Why?"
"Well, we have all the books from back here. The rest are up near the counter. I was just going to ask if she was ready to leave."
"Don't think so. The backs is full of books with old published dates. Probably wanted to browse a bit. It'll take us forever to get her out of there."
"You're right. Let's go try anyway." Harry could honestly say he had never been this far back in the book store. Mostly likely because he had had no purpose back here. All of their school books were brought to the front or were recent publications. "Hermione? Where are you?"
"Over here."
"That's helpful," Ron said.
"Behind the bookshelf."
"Which one?"
"Oh, just try one. I'm trying to read."
"That's nothing knew," he mumbled. They turned down an aisle in the direction of her voice and found her sitting on a ladder reading some large tome. "What did you find?"
"I was looking for books on magical spiders and found this instead. You might find it helpful. It's written on a level even you could understand."
"What is it?" Harry asked, ignoring the jibe on Ron's reading skills. He honestly wanted to know what Hermione found interesting.
"Potions and Their Failures or How to Ruin a Potion without Fireworks."
"That's the title?" Ron asked skeptical.
"Yes. Written by someone named S.O.S. Though I don't have any idea why someone would want to publish under their initials."
"They were probably to young to publish," Ron answered to Hermione's great surprise. "What? It has been done. And you only hear about those that were caught."
"Why is that?"
"They only want to publish texts that are reliable. And to the Ministry if you are below the age of twenty-five you are not reliable. So publish under a pen name. Or get someone else to to so."
"How do you know all of this?"
"My Dad likes to talk about it because he doesn't think there should be an age minimum."
"Wonder who S.O.S. could be?"
"Any number of people. When was it published?" Harry asked.
"Says seventy-six. So not to very long ago."
"May I?"
"Sure," she said handing the book over.
Harry studied the cover for a few moments. It had a picture of a firecracker being tossed into the cauldron and exploding. On opening it, he determined it was written so that children in their school years could easily understand it. The first potion was the Shrinking Potion. It said:
The Shrinking potion is all but impossible to get wrong. Of all of the combinations that would ruin the potion, you would either get an inert goo or three other types of potions, which are in their own right mistakes of others. One is an explosion potion. This will occur if you add twice the amount of shriveled figs with an inadequate amount of heat and movement. It has the consequence of exploding small areas of bionic matter. This includes wizards. It is not deadly but will cause sever discomfort if applied on the skin.
The description was punctuated with a moving picture of some poor boy being splattered with the potion and breaking out in boil like lesions. Disgusting to say the least but it held promise to be helpful. He decided to buy it just for the fun of it.
He looked up only to find Hermione and Ron glued to another huge book. The title was extremely boring, The Science of Identification of the Known Magical Creatures by Herman Tudunk. He did not even bother with asking why it was so interesting. If something that huge did not contain what they were looking for then he suspected Hagrid had found a new species.
"Find anything?" he asked over their shoulders.
Ron glanced up quickly at the shock of being caught reading. "Just a book on magical creatures. The author seems to have the same liking for dangerous things as Hagrid, I bet those two would get along great."
"They can't, Ron. Didn't you read the publish date. This was written in 1789. Herman Tudunk would be dead."
"That doesn't mean you can't speculate."
"Are you going to get it?" Harry interrupted.
"I don't know. It's an old book and I'm sure it costs a lot."
"We can always ask."
"You aren't getting that book, are you?" Ron said in the direction of the potions book.
"Why not? I'm sure it could be useful. And not only with making sure we don't make those mistakes. Just think about being able to sabotage Malfoy's potion."
"Harry," Hermione scolded. "It is not right to do something like that."
"True, But at least we can get back at him for ruining half of Neville's potions. And I would like to find out who S.O.S. is."
Turning to leave they ran into a clerk entering their aisle. "Good morning," he said. "May I help you? Not many customers venture back here. Ah, I see you have Tudunk's work. Probably one of the most prominent identification texts available."
"Really?," Hermione stated. "Does that mean it is still being printed?"
"Of course. There was an update just a few years ago by a relative of his. Of course the book is still under Tudunk's name. You'll probably be wanting that edition, so lets put this one back. Do you have any specific question you want answered or are just generally interested? If you don't mind me asking?"
"No not at all. We were hoping to identify this little guy," Hermione said gesturing to Evan.
"Can't say I've seen anything like that. But if it is known than it will be in Tudunk's book. Ah, here we are. Tudunk's Second Edition. 1979. Odd, I thought it was more recent than that. Oh well. Will that be all?"
"We still have the rest of our schoolbooks, but they're up at the front."
Chapter 8
________________________________________
Harry was laying in bed musing over his summer. The days he had spent with the Weasleys were the best he could wish for. To them he was just another child. A normal kid. And he was lucky to be friends with Ron and Ginny. He was just part of one big happy family. It was probably as close to heaven as he could get.
He did feel slightly bad about not telling Ron and Hermione the whole truth about his eventful summer. But it just did not seem right to tell them about Snape, despite his promise. Nor would bringing up the fact that Irvan was a vampire going to do any good. So he had left those two out of his story. They did know about Irvan. It was impossible to skip that one. If he was going to lie then he had better make it as close to the truth as he could.
Rising softly, so as not to wake Ron, Harry moved to the window. He was still having trouble sleeping, though he hadn't woken up the household be screaming. That was always good, he supposed. He still wasn't clear as to why, but at least he wasn't causing anyone else to miss out on their much needed sleep.
"Tomorrow Hermione's coming," he said quietly. He had gotten into the habit of speaking aloud when no one could hear him. It help him keep his thoughts together. And it was much more accepted to talk to your pets than to yourself. Harry talked to Hedwig sometimes, but she was not always there when he had something that needed to be said. Hagrid's gift was. He had gotten into the habit of bring the tarantula everywhere. Sort of like Neville and his toad, or Ron and the rat formerly known as Scabbers. "Then we'll go down to Diagon Alley, buy our books, wander around, come back, then leave the next day for Hogwarts." The spider, Evan, was sitting on the window sill. It was almost always there when Harry was in the room. Sometimes it was an the bedside table, much to Ron's disgust. "You are probably getting bored listening to me. I don't know why I talk to you at all. You can't respond. But you are probably the only one who knows how I feel about being the famous Boy-Who-Lived."
It was true. Usually when he talked to Evan, either this tarantula or the little brown thing at the Dursleys, it was about how everyone wanted to see something from him and he didn't know what it was.
"Well, anyway," he continued on a non related topic. "Hermione's had a lot of questions about what you are, so expect to be studied while we're at school. She's a bit of a bookworm. She knows more about me than me. But that's not saying a lot. The entire Wizarding World seems to know more about me than I do. It's not the best feeling in the world when people come up to me and ask to see my scar. And now with the stupid connection to Voldemort, my life has become loads worse." He yawned, feeling suddenly tried. It was not unusual for him to get tired while talking to Even, but it usually took a lot longer. "Good night, Evan," he said trying to stand. He couldn't move though. Dread coursed through his veins as he recognized the comings of a vision. What had Voldemort so worked up over?
His vision swam as he struggled against the coming onslaught. The Dark Lord was standing in the center of a circle of thirteen. The moment the vision became solid all but two masked Death Eaters vanished. Voldemort then simply walked away from them and paused. Harry was wary of the strange calm that was overshadowing the rage.
"Lucius, make sure the Ministry does not change its position on my return." Voldemort then waved dismissal. Malfoy Disapparated. "Wormtail, bring them out." Petigrew scampered away leaving Harry staring after him trying to make sense of what was occurring. Abruptly, his contemplation was interrupted by the return of Wormtail hovering two bound and gagged figures.
Harry gasped. The woman was old Mrs. Figg. Why would Voldemort want her? She was a harmless, though eccentric, old lady with far too many cats. "Where is he?" Voldemort hissed.
"I don't know," Mrs. Figg responded defiantly. Not afraid in the least of the white faced, red eyed creature leaning over her. Harry cringed prematurely. His other experiences with this lead to application of the Cruciatus Curse and a whole new world of pain.
As predicted, Crucio was uttered and the victim was screaming and withering in pain. "Now, answer me with the truth." Mrs. Figg glared at him as best as she was able given to her agony. "Very well," he grinned. Turning his wand on the man beside her, the grin morphed in to malicious glee.
"No, don't!" Mrs. Figg cried out. "He doesn't know anything! He's just a Muggle."
"As though that would hinder me. Crucio," he said lazily. The man withered in torment. It was a sicking scene. Having been through much the same, Harry sympathized. Then belatedly he realized he couldn't feel the man's pain. Not like he usually did. This time it was muffled. Distant. He knew it was there, he felt it there, but it wasn't a part of him. His scar didn't pulse in rhythm with their screams. It didn't provoke him into joining the chorus. He was just a bystander with sympathy pains.
Voldemort kept the Curse on until the man was choking and gasping through the blood gushed up from his abused lungs. He lifted it for a moment of consideration. Then applied it again. This time until the man was dead. It didn't take long. Harry was disturbedly grateful.
Slowly the imaged faded out and Harry found himself in a black abyss. He had been here before. It was the place he waited for the visions to become dreams and dreams to become visions. It was the only place Harry did not feel anything. In a word, it was peace.
* * * * * * *
"Hey, Harry!" the voice drifted into his subdued consciousness. "Wake up! Come on, we're leaving for Diagon Alley today. And your going to sleep through it." It was Ron, shaking his shoulders in attempt to wake him up.
"I'm up, I'm up," he mumbled. His head felt full of cotton, it didn't hurt but it felt strange. "We're leaving so soon?" he managed.
"Soon? It's almost nine and we promised Hermione to meet her at ten. And you ask if it's soon?" Ron stated shaking his own head. "Come on, if you want something to eat before we leave." Ron left Harry alone and slowly he rolled out of bed and got ready for the day ahead.
"Come on, Evan," he said lightly picking up the spider. "Who knows, you might even like Diagon Alley." The tarantula just curled in on itself and allowed Harry to place it in his pocket. Running down stairs he spotted Ginny. "So what's for breakfast?" He asked.
"Don't know what's left," she replied. "Fred and George plowed through it so fast. But I'm sure Mom will make you something." She disappeared into her room to get ready for a day of shopping.
Harry shrugged and continued down the stairs. "Morning, Mrs Weasley," he called as he entered the kitchen.
"Morning, Harry," she returned kindly. "You'll be wanting something to eat, I suppose. Well, don't touch anything on the table. Merlin knows what Fred and George have done to it. I'll get you a fresh plate." Molly Weasley busied herself with piling bacon and toast and other breakfast items while he took a seat across from the suspicious looking twins. They were whispering together in conspiratorial tones. "Here you are, Harry. Hurry up so we can get to Diagon Alley before the big rush."
He all but wolfed down the meal so they could leave all the sooner.
* * * * * * * * *
"Hermione!"
"Ron! What took you so long?" the fizzy haired witch demanded while she managed to successfully stalked towards them.
"Nothing much. Harry just woke up late," Ron supplied.
"Anything wrong, Harry?" Hermione sounded very concerned.
"Nothing really. Just went to bed late. Nothing to worry about." But Harry was worried. He had forgotten to send an owl to Dumbledore about the dream. He needed to tell the Professor that Mrs. Figg was in trouble, but he could worry his friends about it. They didn't need to bother with that sort of thing.
"That's good. Did you bring Evan with you. I've been researching as much as I can about magical spiders and most of what I found was on the type Aragog is. I know you described the markings but maybe there is something defining that you left out."
"I very much doubt that," Ron said shifting slightly away from the spider. "The amount of time you two spent describing that thing was immense. I very much doubt you missed anything."
"You just don't understand research, Ron," Hermione retorted. Ron backed away from her glare. When the girl got on a rant about studies it was best just to shut up and listen or ignore it. Ron choose to ignore it. "Every little detail matters when trying to identify a species. Oh, there he is." She was cut short as Harry pulled the black tarantula from his pocket. The thing would probably like to sit on his shoulder now that they were out of the floo. "I don't think I ever read about this. I would have noted it because they are so unusual. Where did Hagrid say he got it?"
"He didn't."
"Odd. Well it is definitely magical. Markings like this just don't exist on regular spiders. I checked all the books available at my public library. I even asked my father if he could take me to the university's. Perhaps Hogwarts will have something I couldn't find there. Do you mind if I hold him?"
"Not at all. Though he might want to ride on your shoulder."
"Then it is a good thing that I left Crookshanks with my trunk back at your house, Ron. You're father was nice enough to take it back with him. So what are we waiting for, let's go to Flourish and Blott's and get our books. Is Professor Lupin really returning this year?"
"That's what he said."
"This will be great. Someone who knows what he is taking about and is on our side."
"What more could you ask for," Ron joined in. "Someone who will actually counteract everything Snape does."
"Ron! He is a teacher at the school."
"Yeah. An ugly, evil one at that."
"Ron." Hermione did not add anything because they had arrived at the store. After getting the Standard Book of Advanced Spells I, Standard Advanced Potions I, and the yearly upgrade in Transfigurations, they wandered around to find the defense books. Remus had picked some interesting titles. The Theory on Evasion and Why They are Illegal. Those two books did not sound at all like normal text books. He could guess that they were not going to study creatures anymore and focus more on spells. Especially the Dark ones. He dreaded the thought that they might have it with Slytherins.
"Hey, Ron. Did you see where Hermione went?"
"Towards the back. Why?"
"Well, we have all the books from back here. The rest are up near the counter. I was just going to ask if she was ready to leave."
"Don't think so. The backs is full of books with old published dates. Probably wanted to browse a bit. It'll take us forever to get her out of there."
"You're right. Let's go try anyway." Harry could honestly say he had never been this far back in the book store. Mostly likely because he had had no purpose back here. All of their school books were brought to the front or were recent publications. "Hermione? Where are you?"
"Over here."
"That's helpful," Ron said.
"Behind the bookshelf."
"Which one?"
"Oh, just try one. I'm trying to read."
"That's nothing knew," he mumbled. They turned down an aisle in the direction of her voice and found her sitting on a ladder reading some large tome. "What did you find?"
"I was looking for books on magical spiders and found this instead. You might find it helpful. It's written on a level even you could understand."
"What is it?" Harry asked, ignoring the jibe on Ron's reading skills. He honestly wanted to know what Hermione found interesting.
"Potions and Their Failures or How to Ruin a Potion without Fireworks."
"That's the title?" Ron asked skeptical.
"Yes. Written by someone named S.O.S. Though I don't have any idea why someone would want to publish under their initials."
"They were probably to young to publish," Ron answered to Hermione's great surprise. "What? It has been done. And you only hear about those that were caught."
"Why is that?"
"They only want to publish texts that are reliable. And to the Ministry if you are below the age of twenty-five you are not reliable. So publish under a pen name. Or get someone else to to so."
"How do you know all of this?"
"My Dad likes to talk about it because he doesn't think there should be an age minimum."
"Wonder who S.O.S. could be?"
"Any number of people. When was it published?" Harry asked.
"Says seventy-six. So not to very long ago."
"May I?"
"Sure," she said handing the book over.
Harry studied the cover for a few moments. It had a picture of a firecracker being tossed into the cauldron and exploding. On opening it, he determined it was written so that children in their school years could easily understand it. The first potion was the Shrinking Potion. It said:
The Shrinking potion is all but impossible to get wrong. Of all of the combinations that would ruin the potion, you would either get an inert goo or three other types of potions, which are in their own right mistakes of others. One is an explosion potion. This will occur if you add twice the amount of shriveled figs with an inadequate amount of heat and movement. It has the consequence of exploding small areas of bionic matter. This includes wizards. It is not deadly but will cause sever discomfort if applied on the skin.
The description was punctuated with a moving picture of some poor boy being splattered with the potion and breaking out in boil like lesions. Disgusting to say the least but it held promise to be helpful. He decided to buy it just for the fun of it.
He looked up only to find Hermione and Ron glued to another huge book. The title was extremely boring, The Science of Identification of the Known Magical Creatures by Herman Tudunk. He did not even bother with asking why it was so interesting. If something that huge did not contain what they were looking for then he suspected Hagrid had found a new species.
"Find anything?" he asked over their shoulders.
Ron glanced up quickly at the shock of being caught reading. "Just a book on magical creatures. The author seems to have the same liking for dangerous things as Hagrid, I bet those two would get along great."
"They can't, Ron. Didn't you read the publish date. This was written in 1789. Herman Tudunk would be dead."
"That doesn't mean you can't speculate."
"Are you going to get it?" Harry interrupted.
"I don't know. It's an old book and I'm sure it costs a lot."
"We can always ask."
"You aren't getting that book, are you?" Ron said in the direction of the potions book.
"Why not? I'm sure it could be useful. And not only with making sure we don't make those mistakes. Just think about being able to sabotage Malfoy's potion."
"Harry," Hermione scolded. "It is not right to do something like that."
"True, But at least we can get back at him for ruining half of Neville's potions. And I would like to find out who S.O.S. is."
Turning to leave they ran into a clerk entering their aisle. "Good morning," he said. "May I help you? Not many customers venture back here. Ah, I see you have Tudunk's work. Probably one of the most prominent identification texts available."
"Really?," Hermione stated. "Does that mean it is still being printed?"
"Of course. There was an update just a few years ago by a relative of his. Of course the book is still under Tudunk's name. You'll probably be wanting that edition, so lets put this one back. Do you have any specific question you want answered or are just generally interested? If you don't mind me asking?"
"No not at all. We were hoping to identify this little guy," Hermione said gesturing to Evan.
"Can't say I've seen anything like that. But if it is known than it will be in Tudunk's book. Ah, here we are. Tudunk's Second Edition. 1979. Odd, I thought it was more recent than that. Oh well. Will that be all?"
"We still have the rest of our schoolbooks, but they're up at the front."