AN – We are pleased to present the much-anticipated second chapter, and ask that you do forgive us for the excruciatingly long wait between updates. But really, you can't just expect us to sit around writing fan fiction all day…
Disclaimer: see chapter one
Chapter 2: Explosions and Elucidation
It was almost two weeks after the big wedding that Harry, having really nothing else to do, decided to pay Hermione a visit at work. The S.P.A.M.M. headquarters was located, by no mere coincidence, right above Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes on Diagon Alley.
Despite the popularity of the twins and their ingenious inventions, it seemed that the loud noises and frequent explosions emanating from their workshop made Fed and George less-than-desirable neighbors. Consequently, the second-story flat of their building was put up for rent at a price the grassroots organization, desperate for an office space, could not afford to ignore.
Hermione nobly adopted a "beggars-can't-be-choosers" attitude, patching the holes the twins blasted up through the floor with only an occasional roll of her eyes. Harry could tell that Lupin, though he kept quiet about the subject, rather enjoyed all the commotion, which reminded him of his own days of marauding at Hogwarts. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the werewolf himself was responsible for several of the products on sale the floor below.
Harry bounded up the rickety spiral staircase, and when the creaky entrance door sprang open at his arrival, he was astonished at the sight that confronted him. In the center of the shabby reception area, two long, pointy, bat-like ears were protruding from behind a large wooden desk. A quick scan of the rest of the room revealed more telltale signs of the tiny receptionist's craft— crudely drawn portraits of happy-looking creatures covered the walls, and many of the holes in the floor had been stuffed with colorful, woolly socks. A coat stand in the corner was bedecked with several rather lumpy knit hats, though, which could only have been Hermione's handiwork.
The house elf sprang over the desk in haste to greet his old friend.
"Dobby is most happy to see Mr. Harry Potter again, sir!" The elf's attire consisted of an oversized purple jumper that swished around his ankles, a Mrs. Weasley original, branded with a large golden "D." His left sock was red with a broomstick pattern, and his right was striped with rather lurid shades of pink and orange.
"Dobby has never seen Mr. Harry Potter here in the office before, sir, and Dobby is working for Miss Hermione since the beginning!"
Harry was happy Dobby has finally found suitable employment.
"I thought it was about time I came and checked the place out. Hermione has been raving about it. So how do you like working here?"
"Dobby is much liking to help Miss Hermione, but Dobby is not liking being blasted off his chair at least twice a day! Dobby wants to blast the Weasely's off their chairs, but Miss Hermione is not letting Dobby."
Harry grinned. "Well, Dobby, I'm glad you like it here. I hope Fred and George will give it a rest for you sometime. So, is Hermione here?"
"Miss Hermione is busy now, sir, talking with little people with big feet. But if Mr. Harry Potter sir is liking to wait, she is free after their appointment."
Harry took a seat on a faded plaid recliner in the corner next to Dobby's desk. "Who are these little people, then, Dobby? Not elves, are they?"
"No, Mr. Harry Potter, sir," Dobby shook his head. "They is called hobbits. They is having big hairy feet and scraggly brown hair and is very short and fat because they eats six or seven times a day. And Dobby is wondering, sir, how it is they drinks so much fire whiskey and not fall over. Dobby is just as tall and Dobby, sir, cannot drink more than one butterbeer before he is forgetting his name and acting like a hinkypunk!"
Harry's bewilderment at the house elf's confession was cut short as the door to Hermione's office opened and two curly-haired heads filed out, about level with the door knob. As they scurried out the front door and down the stairs into Diagon Alley, Harry thought he detected a bit of a Scottish brogue.
"Time for elevensies, then?"
"Oh, aye, lets!"
"Harry!" Hermione, dressed in neatly plaited burgundy business robes, was standing in her office doorway. "What a nice surprise! I'm glad you've finally come to see the office. Has Dobby been showing you around?"
Dobby looked down, sheepish, Harry suspected, that he had been gossiping about potential clients rather than attending to his official duties.
"Um, yeah," said Harry, not wanted to incriminate the house elf, "Something like that."
"Well, then," said Hermione, "why don't you come sit in here and we can catch up on things." She motioned to the mismatched chairs in her office, and Harry followed her in. Crookshanks was curled up, purring, on a bookshelf above Hermione's desk.
"I was just working on a very interesting case. Mr. Peregrine Took and Mr. Merriadoc Brandybuck, both very friendly hobbits, have been having a difficult time getting served in the local pubs. The proprietor of the Boar's Head threw them out because he thought they were children!" Her eyes gleamed with a dangerous enthusiasm that Harry knew only too well from their days at Hogwarts. "I am now in the process of planning a hobbit-awareness campaign so these sorts of incidents won't happen again. Hobbits need people like us to fight for them because they are generally shy and tend to keep insult and injury to themselves, although these two seem to be rather outgoing."
"Dobby seemed less than enthusiastic about them," smirked Harry.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, well…" She looked down at a file lying on her desk and brightened up again. "Oh, did I tell you, Harry? Our old friend, Grawp, is working for us here now, too!"
Harry stared. "You can't be serious."
"Oh yes," Hermione chirped. "He's our head translator for the ESL classes we've been developing."
"ESL..?"
"English as a Second Language," she explained. "One of the major obstacles in achieving equal rights for magical minorities is that many of them don't speak our language. Our current group of most-need is, of course, the Giants. Ever since they aided Dumbledore with, well, you remember…" Hermione trailed off, realizing that Harry might not want to be reminded of those circumstances. "Anyway, some have expressed interest in being integrated into human society."
"Oh, really?" Harry raised an eyebrow. He pictured Hagrid in his professional attire— semi-slicked hair and that horrible hairy brown suit— and then tried to imagine a number of Hagrid's considerably larger relatives strolling down Diagon Alley in similar fashion. He shuddered involuntarily.
"So, enough about my work, what have you been up to?"
Harry cast around for a comfortable subject in his life, as there were a lot of issues still too painful for him to discuss at the moment. "Well, Ron took me to the Aberdeen Quidditch Tournament the other day—"
Hermione snorted at the mention of her old flame. "I'd prefer not to talk about Ron. I've got quite enough on my hands right now without having to deal with that nasty, immature pest."
"Hermione," Harry interjected, "We're only looking out for you, you know. It's been ages since you took a break from your work and had a chance to talk to people your own age, or your own species, for that matter."
"Oh so that's what this is about, is it!" Hermione exploded. "You know, Harry, I would have though you of all people would understand! I know Remus' and my relationship might seem strange to everyone too shallow to be accepting, but we really have a lot in common and I'm not going to let a few jealous friends get between us! I'm not like you, Harry. I don't give up on a relationship the minute it seems like it might not work. I know you still regret what you did to Ginny. I'm not going to be like that. I have a lot of pressure in my life right now that Remus understands better than any of you!"
Harry stared blankly for a moment, taken aback by his friend's sudden outburst.
"We— I— I mean, I didn't come here to attack you, Hermione. I just thought you might like to talk…"
Hermione instantly realized her mistake in lashing out at her friend. "I'm sorry, Harry! I know you're going through a lot too. I just miss Ginny, and, well… I'm very happy in my job and my relationship." And deliberately changing the subject, she added, "So… can I sign you up to volunteer around here once and a while?"
"Uh, I'll have to think about that one. Aurors can't commit to a lot, you know—" His excuse was interrupted by an unusually loud bang from downstairs that knocked all of them to the ground, including Dobby, whose shrill yelp of surprise echoed through the office.
"Ugh!" Hermione groaned as she stood up and dusted herself off. "I thought I sent Remus down there to make those two behave. Obviously he wasn't successful. I'm going to have to give them a talking to! Really, we can't conduct business with all these disruptions…"
Harry followed her down the winding staircase, eager to see what crazy scheme his old Quidditch buddies were up to.
-
As the two friends pushed open the door to the Weasleys' workshop, they were engulfed by a great rolling cloud of blue smoke. Harry could hear voices hastily muttering clean-up spells between coughs.
Harry and Hermione waved their hands to clear the air, nearly choking on the thick smoke that smelled vaguely like Neville's beloved Mimbulus mimbletonia.
Stepping into the room, they saw Fred, George, and Lupin standing around a smoking cauldron, dripping with what appeared to be some sort of blue goo. The workroom of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes was unlike anything Harry had ever seen. Gadgets of every shape and size cluttered the counters. There were shelves upon shelves of bubbling, smoking, brightly-colored potions, the walls and ceiling were riddled with semi-patched holes, and Harry could feel his feet sticking to the floor with each step. In a place of honour in the center of the far wall hung a large portrait of the twins in their crimson Quidditch robes, beaming and brandishing their brooms.
"What in Merlin's name is going on down here?" Hermione demanded.
Fred and George grinned rather devilishly at each other as Lupin stammered, "What? Oh, well, you see… I, ah, I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to disclose that information. Product's not on the market yet, you know."
Hermione's condensation only increased with that evasion. "'You're not at liberty?' You were supposed to be calming them down, not assisting them!"
"Well, they were going about the spell all wrong. I couldn't just stand back and let them make a mess of it."
At that moment, a large blueberry-shaded drop of goo detatched itself from the ceiling and landed squarely on Hermione's nose.
"I'd say this still looks like quite a mess," she retorted as she wiped the blue glob off her face, leaving a large sticky smear.
Fred chuckled heartily. "Who would have guessed Professor Lupin had such a mind for pranking spells?"
"Bloody brilliant!" George concurred.
A grin spread itself across Harry's face. "Old Moony's had years of practice at that sort of thing."
Lupin's eyes went wide, almost fearful, as Harry realized what he had just said. "I mean, that is to say—" But the twins were too sharp.
"Moony?" asked Fred, whipping his head around towards Lupin.
"As in, Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs?" added George, also eyeing the former professor.
"Of the Marauder's Map!" the twins chorused, excitedly.
Hermione shook her head in exasperation.
The twins advanced eagerly, eyes glittering at the prospect of discovering the true identity of, to their knowledge, one of Hogwarts' greatest schemers— one who, albeit unwittingly, had aided them in some of their grandest pursuits. Lupin raised his hands defensively.
"It was a long time ago, and I had help. I'm afraid…" he trailed off for moment, remembering, then shook his head. "I'm afraid the secrets of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are yet another issue I'm not at liberty to discuss."
The twins nodded solemnly. "Fair enough, mate," said George, clapping a hand on Lupin's shoulder. "But I do believe," said Fred, taking his other shoulder, and steering him out into the shop, "I foresee some profitable business arrangements in your future…"