Chapter Two: The Madness Within

Fiona Faoiltiarna was a disagreeable bird, as Felan might have said. She hated wearing skirts, hated vegetables, hated cooking, hated anything to do with dolls (and hated dolls). There wasn't many things Fi did like, actually; namely alcoholic beverages and rabbits. That is to say, eating rabbits.

"Ew, carrots-- here Drunkard," Fi threw the boiled carrot to the tabby cat, who pawed at it curiously. "Why do we have to eat vegetables anyways?" she asked Harry, who was picking at his plate of food next to her.

"Because they balance out your diet?" he offered half-heartedly. Fi didn't seem to hear him-- or she ignored him.

"Right. So have you seen Dee's new haircut? It's horrible-- again. I swear, if her mother was a-- erm... hair-cutter--, she'd be sued." Fi carelessly tossed another carrot over her shoulder. Dee Philips was another werewolf cub, a pretty one (as many of them were), with blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Maybe you should eat those carrots. They do good for your eyesight," Harry said.

"Eyesight? My eyesight's fine. What are you trying to say about my eyesight?" Fi asked all in one breath.

"Nothing," Harry answered. There was silence as Fi looked at a green plant on her plate cautiously. "It's asparagus, Fi," Harry said.

"Oh, right. Here, Drunkard, fetch." Fi threw the asparagus over her shoulder and it hit Drunkard square on the back. Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on, Harry. Have a spring in your step. Today's the day that Felan comes back, y'know."

"Trust me, I know. You've reminded me every day since I've been back here," Harry said.

"His Mammo's coming too, you know," Fi added.

"What?" Harry turned his head so fast that he cricked it by accident. He rubbed his neck and said, "Who's coming along?"

"Felan's Mammo. Y'know, his gran," Fi repeated. "Don't tell me you've never met Felan's Mammo,"

"No, you've never met Felan's Mammo. I've met the woman, she's a disgrace to mankind-- err... wolfkind I guess."

"Felan's grandma's nice," Fi said. "Well, she was nice to me. Course I knew the woman for all of five minutes before I had to leave for Belgium with Keavy. Now, there's someone who's a disgrace to man-wolf-whatever-kind, Keavy's Belgium-ish cousin Courtney. She's a maniac,"

"Well you didn't have to stay with Felan's Mammo for all two weeks in the same room," Harry deadpanned. "She's horrible." Harry had met Felan's grandmother three times during his residence with Felan's family. Each time, Fi was conveniently off in Belgium with Keavy, or serving some sort of three week-long punishment in the forest. Felan's grandmother was a shrewd woman; shorter than Harry, with black hair streaked with gray, and two-inch thick glasses for her to see through. She didn't like bitten wolves, as she made perfectly clear when she whacked Harry with her walking cane for invading her personal space... when he was two feet away. Those two-inch thick glasses and that walking cane was just an act-- Harry was convinced of this.

"And now, you've got nowhere to go," Harry said happily. "You're staying right in this five-mile-radius of that evil woman, and you're suffering with me."

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Dubheasa Caolaidhe, Felan's mother, spent the entire day cooking. When it was a few moments until Felan would be back (as Fi so happily reminded Harry), she pulled Harry aside and warned him.

"Now, Harry, I know Riona isn't about to win a congeniality award any time soon, but still, she is the matriarch of the family and we need to treat her with respect."

"I thought Felan's great-great-great grandmother was the matriarch, and she's still alive to my knowledge," Harry said. Dubheasa was not amused.

"Blair," Blair was Felan's father, "wants this to be a nice visit for his mam. Now, I'm not as thrilled as he is about having that woman within fifty miles of me, but I still have to put on a happy face as well." Translation? "Be nice. After the initial hour, you can stay in Fi's den for dinner and don't move from there until morning. Cheer up, Harry, the old bird will be dying soon and we'll all be able to breath deeply when that happens, right?"

Sadly, this did not cheer Harry up as much as he thought it should. But it did give him the nice thought that Dubheasa wanted Mammo Riona back in Ireland as fast as possible as well.

At half-twelve, Felan and Blair arrived, with the sour-looking Riona in tow. She looked exactly as Harry remembered her, with the exception of many more gray hairs, thicker glasses and a new knobbly cane.

"Are you still here?" she asked upon seeing Harry. "I thought you were already eighteen!"

"He's almost twelve, mam," Blair said. "Harry, say hello to Mammo Riona,"

"Hello... Mammo... Riona," he had a bit of trouble getting the last part out. As she rarely acted like a Mammo Riona, especially to him. Then again, she was in her dying years...

Harry's train of thought was disrupted by a hard hit to his neck. Harry bit back a yelp.

"Get out of my way, boy!" Mammo Riona said in a croaky voice.

"Riona, how good it is to see you again!" Dubheasa chirped, a large, fake smile plastered on her face. Mammo Riona looked Dubheasa up and down and shook her head.

"You have more gray hairs I see..." she said.

"You should talk," Harry muttered. Mammo Riona spun around faster than a eighty-year-old should be able to spin around, and whacked him on the side of the face.

"What did you say to me boy?" she asked. Of course, Harry thought, a believer in the shoot first, ask questions later philosophy.

"He said nothing!" Felan said quickly. Felan was hit on the ribs by Mammo Riona's cane.

"Don't protect the boy, he needs to learn respect!" she shrieked. Felan doubled over.

"I think you broke my rib!" he gasped. Mammo Riona ignored him.

"Shut up, boy and go fix up a bed for me." Harry turned to Felan.

"A bed? She's staying?" he asked.

"Of course, you don't think she just rode up for the day, do you?" Harry grabbed Felan by the shirt and hauled him outside. "Ow! This is just insult to injury now-- Hey, hey, watch-- some of that's skin." Harry let go once they were in the sunlight. Felan smoothed out his shirt, as if trying to repair the damage to his ego that had resulted off of being man-handled by a boy one year younger than him and two weight classes lower.

"I was thinking it would be wonderful if she stayed for just the day," Harry hissed.

"Harry, I know you think that Mammo's the scourge of Europe--"

"She is!" Harry interrupted.

"But she's really, just well meaning." Felan finished.

"Well meaning? Well meaning? She hates me! She treed me last time she was here!" Felan laughed.

"Yeah, that was funny though." He reminisced. "But jolly not good," he added, seeing Harry's face. "Come on, Harry. You only have to spend two days with her, I had to spend two months with her. She almost crippled me, Harry."

"What's she here for anyways?" Harry asked.

"I dunno," Felan shrugged. "She was talking to Da about the arrangement of something or other..."

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Harry was hit by Mammo Riona's walking stick seventy times between then and dinner. Sometimes it was because he wasn't standing straight, sometimes it was because he was too close to her, sometimes it was because he hadn't introduced her to somebody, and sometimes it was because he was too quiet or too loud. By the time the sun set, there were twenty good bruises on his neck, legs, arms and back.

"Sit down for dinner, boy!" Mammo Riona screeched, hitting Harry on the leg. Harry suppressed a yelp and rubbed his leg.

"Actually, Harry is going to have dinner with his friend Fi. You remember Fi, don't you Riona?" Dubheasa asked. Mammo Riona nodded and scratched her chin.

"That girl being raised by that Belgian wench?" she asked.

"Yes, that's Keavy," Dubheasa said. She nodded for Harry to leave and Harry did leave. In fact, he ran over to Fi's den where she was lying on her back, reading some magazine, Drunkard was purring contentedly on her stomach.

"Mammo Riona's scarred me for life," Harry announced. Fi looked down at him.

"Come on in, we can be the Scar Club. Or... you know... the Bitter Bitten Cub Club. I hearby declare this, the first meeting." She deadpanned. "And you're not scarred for life."

"What is that, Guns and Ammo?" Harry asked, picking the magazine from her fingers. Fi nodded.

"So," Fi sat up and scratched at her neck. "Have you gotten any letters from your friends?" she asked. Actually, Harry hadn't, which had pissed him off to no end. He had let Hedwig, his owl, out of her cage precious few times as many cubs didn't differentiate between "Hedwig" and "Moving Target" (or even worse, "Potential Dinner"). Perhaps that was the reason that he hadn't seen any owls around... Ron did say that he was going to invite Harry over the summer, but no letters had come from Ron or Hermione.

"No," Harry answered sullenly. Fi seemed interested now.

"Hm, they haven't written you? Don't they like their Harry "Worth-his-weight-in-gold" Potter?" she asked.

"Not now, Fi," Harry protested. Ever since he'd gotten back, Fi had been picking on him for "getting all moral" as she put it.

"God forbid they were just in it for the fame?" Fi shrugged and let out a sigh. "Maybe you should put some new friends on back-order. Y'know, for when you get back to school and all."

"Fi!"

"What?" she asked, trying to look innocent. Of course, coming from a tribe where innocence was about as foreign as Ancient Hebrew, you could understand if she was a bit off the mark.

Harry rolled his eyes and settled his gaze on a pile of clothes near the wall. Fi was dead set on being annoying to him though, so she continued talking. Harry suddenly jumped to his feet. He'd been staring at the clothing, bent on trying to ignore Fi-- and the pile of clothes stared back. Two enormous green eyes had appeared in between a green sweatshirt and a blue camisole.

"Fi..." he said.

"What?" she asked.

"I know you like to hide things in your room, but this is ridiculous." Fi turned to where he was looking.

"I don't hide things in my clothes anymore-- not since that dead fish, and it came back to life." She said. "Why, what are you--" Fi stopped midsentence and went towards the pile.

"Fi, don't do it. Don't do it, Fi... Come back here," Harry muttered. Fi didn't listen, she stretched out one hand and poked one of the eyes. A little creature with large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes tumbled out. "I told you not to!" he growled. The creature stood up and pulled a sock off of his head.

"Er... hello," Harry said nervously.

"Harry Potter!" the creature chirped in a high-pitched voice. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir... Such an honor it is!"

"Thanks," Harry said.

"Who are you?" Fi asked immediately.

"Dobby, miss. Dobby the house-elf," the creature said.

"Oh," Fi whispered. "Look, not that we're very pleased to see you, but why were you in my clothing?" she asked in a much stronger voice. Harry knocked her head.

"Don't say that!" he said.

"What? It's not like you weren't thinking it!"

"What she means is-- is there any particular reason you're here?" Harry queried.

"Oh, yes, sir. Dobby has come to tell you, sir... it is difficult, sir... Dobby wonders where to begin..."

"Sit down," Harry said. He looked at Fi. "Well, get it-- him a chair,"

"I don't have chairs," Fi hissed. Then, Dobby burst into tears-- very loud tears.

"S-sit down? Never... never ever..."

"See, look now, you offended it!" Fi whispered.

"Offend Dobby?" Choked the house-elf. "Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard-- like an equal--"

"Dobby, why are you here?" Harry repeated.

"Dobby-- Dobby has to warn Harry Potter, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven later... Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts!"

"What?" Harry asked. "But, I've got to go back. Term starts on September first and-- and I've got to--"

"No, no, no," Dobby squealed. "Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"Why?" Harry asked in surprise.

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," Dobby said frantically. "Dobby has known for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in trouble, he is important, sir!"

"What terrible things? Who's plotting them?" Harry asked. Dobby made a funny choking noise and banged his head against the wall.

"NO ELF!" Fi shrieked and pulled him back. At Harry's confused expression, she replied calmly, "Keavy took some Valium and went down for a nap. If I wake her up... it'll be really bleak."

"Does this have anything to do with Voldemort?" Harry asked. He had a feeling it did. Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and groaned loudly.

"Ah! Sir must not speak the name!"

"Sorry," Harry said quickly. "I know lots of people don't like it, my friend Ron--" Harry stopped. Thinking about Ron right now was a bit painful.

"Dobby heard tell that," Dobby swallowed, "that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago... That Harry Potter escaped again,"

"He's really feeling the slavish devotion here, isn't he?" Fi said.

"Does it have to do with You-Know-Who?" Harry asked desperately. "Just shake your head yes or no," Slowly, Dobby shook his head. "Well then I can't think of any other person who would make bad things happen at Hogwarts. And-- and I can't stay here, I'll go out of my mind if I have to see her face every day," Harry pointed to Fi.

"Hey!"

"And I've got friends there," Harry said. Fi snorted unpleasantly.

"Them,"

"Friends that don't even write to Harry Potter?" Dobby said shyly.

"They've probably just been-- wait a minute." Harry looked down at Dobby who was wringing his ears worriedly. "How do you know that Ron and Hermione haven't been writing?" he asked.

"Harry Potter musn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for his best--"

"You've been stopping my letters!" Harry yelled angrily.

"Dobby has them here, sir," the elf stepped out of Fi's reach and pulled a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. They were barely out a second when they were in Fi's hands. She started looking through them.

"You've got some from Hermione... Ron... here's that Hagrid man's letter..." Dobby blinked up at Harry.

"Harry Potter must not be angry... Dobby hoped... if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him... Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir..." Harry wasn't listening.

"I'm going back to Hogwarts, and you cannot stop me," he said heatedly.

"Then Harry Potter leaves Dobby no choice, sir," Dobby said sadly. Before Harry had the chance to grab for the elf, Dobby had ran out of the den and into the night. Harry stared after him a moment, before jumping up.

"Come on!" he growled, grabbing Fi's collar and pulling her up. Once they were outside, Harry could see Dobby darting into another cave. "There! Hurry!" He whispered. They sprinted across the grounds, not making any sound at all, before they reached where Dobby had gone. There was a large red cloth hanging in front of the cage with the Sutherson glyph imprinted on it.

"No! No!" Fi pulled Harry back. "That's Mistress Sutherson's territory-- she's got her sisters over!"

"All thirty?" Harry asked, bewildered. "That's impossible, there's not enough space."

"They're Suthersons, they'll make space," Fi said.

"The Suthersons... Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Harry asked.

"'Murderous Elf Slaughters Fifty, Cubs Survive'?"

"He's going to do something to them," Harry whispered.

"And we're going to stop him? The Suthersons are more capable then we are!" Fi hissed. Harry ignored her and went in. It was true, all thirty Sutherson girls (and about twenty Sutherson men) were crammed into the small room and all chattering incessently. Fi ducked in after him.

"So what do you think he's going after?" she asked. Harry shrugged.

"What about..."

"That," Fi interrupted.

"What?"

"That!" Fi pointed to a large red bowl of punch (or vodka with food coloring, thought Harry) wobbling slightly on top of a bookcase. It was Mistress Sutherson's prized punch, extremely alcoholic and extremely sought after. Supposedly, one girl had drinken a whole bottle full, as a dare. She got her sight back in three months.

"Where is Dobby?" Harry asked, looking around. Fi looked at him incredulously.

"You kidding me? Sniff him out, omnivore!" she said. Harry rolled his eyes and sniffed the air. He did smell Dobby, however lightly in this crowd of highly-perfumed girls and overly-cologned men. Then, he saw him. Dobby was suddenly on top of the bookcase and, with a crack like a whip, in front of Harry. Harry felt his stomach disappear.

"Dobby, no. Mistress Sutherson'll decapitate me," he said.

"Dobby has to. Harry Potter must say that he is not going back to school--" Large tears were dropping from Dobby's eyes and into the punch bowl, making small sparks every time one did so.

"Dobby, just... put it down, please!"

"Say it sir--"

"No!" Harry said. Dobby gave him a tragic look.

"Then Dobby must," he said. He threw the punch onto a talking girl and she screamed and fell over. With another crack, Dobby was gone.

The Sutherson girl was screaming wildly and flailing around on the floor. Indeed, it did seem like the punch was sizzling right through her skin. The crowd turned silent and Mistress Samantha Sutherson pushed her way to the front.

"What the hell happened here?" she asked. "Katherine, Pamela, get her cleaned up before she starts convulsing." Two girls rushed out and picked up the screaming girl. Harry would run, but he seemed frozen to the spot. "You two," Mistress Sutherson gestured to them. "Explain,"

For all six years that Harry'd known her, whether the crime was stealing liquor from Torra's cabinents, or gutting someone's pet rabbit on accident, or spilling radioactive experimental drinks onto Marlaina's new shirt (which would be accidently-on-purpose), Fi had always had a plausible story or an alibi on hand. If the story needed proof that a rampaging, blue-furred monkey had broken into Torra McBorgen's storage and drinken all of her jalepeno-banana-flavored vodka, then she would find the alleged rampaging monkey, dye it blue, force feed it alcohol and present it to Torra. Harry usually counted on her for a semi-plausible story that would explain why they were somewhere, at some time and how.

Right now, she seemed fresh out of alibis.

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