Chapter Fourteen: The Walrus Was Paul

"That's quite a shiner," Ron admiringly observed as he leaned up against the basin in the Prefect's bathroom. He handed Harry another cold compress. 

Go to hell.

And rot.

"Thanks," Harry muttered thickly, looking at his reflection in the mirror that hung just above the marble basin.  Had he just been trampled by a Manticore, he couldn't have looked—or felt—any worse. His right eye, from just  below his scar to the upper part of his cheek was a nasty, deep bluish-black color.  The force of Ginny's punch had caused him to bite down on his tongue, which was now swollen and felt as though it was the size of Dudley's after eating a Ton Tongue Toffee.  His eye and head both throbbed painfully.  His nose was a bit red looking, but wasn't bleeding anymore, although it still felt very sore.  Harry had no idea how long he'd been knocked out; the first thing he had seen once he regained consciousness was the green amphibious eye of Trevor the toad, who had been perched on his chest, staring down at him with an imperious look.  Neville appeared into focus next, standing over him with a pale, frightened expression on his rotund face.

"I mean, wow, she really got you good," Ron continued.  "She always had the nastiest left.  Used to beat up Fred all the time when we were little."  Harry tried to glare at Ron, but the effort to do so just hurt more than it was worth, so he just sighed and held the cold compress to his eye again. 

Ron chuckled non-apologetically, "Sorry mate, I know you're my best friend and all but really, you have to admit she got you good.  Allow me my moment of brotherly pride."  This time Harry did manage a glare, although it hurt like hell and had no effect on Ron, who just ignored it and grinned widely.  "It's Bill you should be yelling at, he's the one who taught her how to fight when we were in Egypt, and she got in some trouble sneaking into a tomb and running into some grave-robbers."

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Ron shrugged, still grinning madly.  "Do I even want to know what you did that caused my sweet, innocent, even-tempered sister to punch you?"

Harry paused briefly as he tried to get his glasses to sit straight on his nose.

Oh, nothing.  I just acted like an insanely jealous idiot—

Which I'm not!

—and insulted her in the lowest way a man can insult a woman.

Which was deserved!

No it wasn't!  Whatever Ginny's done, cheating isn't even on the list and you know it!  Ginny would never—

"Harry?"

"Wha—oh—sorry Ron," Harry quickly recovered. 

Ron quirked an eyebrow and looked at him expectantly.  "Well?" he prompted.  "What did you do?"

"I…uh…I…I…acted like an idiot," Harry said lamely.

Did not!

Did too!

Did not!

Ron nodded.  "Oh, well…hey, it happens to the best of us," Ron said sagely.  "Even Hermione has accused me of doing that every once in a while, although it's normally when I bring up Viktor Krum—"  It was amazing how fast Ron could move from casually lounging against the wash basin to looming over Harry in a threatening manner.  "You didn't accuse her of anything like that did you?"

Damn him and his perceptive ways!

Harry paled.  "No.  Not really."  He sighed.  "Yes, yes I did."

Great! We'll have another shiner to match the first.

Ron looked at Harry for a moment, and Harry could almost see what Ron inwardly debating whether to punch him or not.  Harry anxiously watched Ron's arms which were crossed over his chest, waiting for any indication that he was about to get knocked out again.  Thankfully, Ron just looked at him sternly for a long moment, then sighed.  "What an idiot.  Who is it that you could possibly be jealous of?  I mean, you're the great Harry Potter."

"I don't know," Harry confessed.  "I'm just tired of all the lies and the secrecy, and I just…snapped.  I know it's not true, but still…"

Ron patted him on the back in sympathy.  "Yeah, but still…you've gone and done it now, that's for sure."

No kidding.

****

"How is she?" Ginny could hear Hermione's soft whisper through the bed curtains. 

"We think she's ok," replied Amy, in the same soft tone.  "Under the circumstances."

"She didn't come down for practice.  She never misses practice." Sue must have followed Hermione.  "What should we do?  Harry's not come down either, and Ron just called the whole thing off and told us to go back up to bed."

Ginny lay face down on her bed, pretending that she couldn't hear the low conversation taking place just a few feet away.  She'd not slept at all that night and had spent most of her time in the girls' bathroom nursing her hand.  She thought she may have broken a few knuckles, but couldn't be too sure, and was too damned angry to go to Madam Pomfrey to check it out.

"She's missed breakfast.  She never misses breakfast."  Sue's voice rose in panic.  "And no one has seen Harry at all.  Did they have a fight?  I heard some yelling last night, but I just put a silencing charm on and went back to bed."

"Sue, why don't you go downstairs and get ready for class.  I believe you have potions this morning," Hermione said in that "I'm Head Girl, don't argue with me" tone.  Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed.  Knowing Hermione as she did, she knew what was soon to come.

"Ginny Estelle Weasley you get out of bed this instant!  You have Charms in exactly thirty minutes, and you can't afford to be late again.  Professor Flitwick has already given you detention twice for tardiness."  Footsteps echoed closer to Ginny's bed, and a moment later, the curtains were ripped back to reveal Hermione's bushy head.  "Get—"  Her voice trailed off once she spotted Ginny in the shadows.  "What…what's going on?  Are you sick?"

"Give her a break Hermione," Patricia said as she handed Ginny some water.  "She's been through a lot, ok?"

"Yes, well…you should be happy to hear that Harry's ok," Hermione said.  "Although he was found lying on the common room floor by Neville as he was looking for Trevor.  His nose was bleeding badly—he could have bled to death!"

Ginny didn't say a word.

"Pity that.  I would have let him rot there until the Cannons win the Championship,"  Amy spat out angrily.  "Serves him right."

"How can you say that, Amy?  You should have seen him!  His eye was all black and blue—"

"No longer green as a fresh pickled toad?"

"—and you should be thankful, Ginny, that I had put an unbreakable charm on the lenses or you could have seriously hurt him!"

"And what a shame that would have been!"

Hermione and Amy glared at each other for a moment.  "Ginny," Hermione said, turning back to her with a huff. "You need to get dressed and go eat something before class.  I'll see you at lunch."

Had Ginny not felt so angry—hurt—whatever the hell she was feeling at the moment, she might have laughed at the way Amy's nose scrunched up and Patricia stuck out her tongue at the retreating form of Hermione.

"You going to go to class?" Patricia asked.  "We can tell Professor Flitwick that you're sick or something."

"No, I'll be there," Ginny said.  "You two go on ahead.  I'll catch you up in a bit."  Ginny waited until both girls had got their bags and left before uncovering the object she had hidden under the covers next to her.

The polished handle gleamed in the morning light.  Ginny hadn't really had a chance to look it over since she'd opened the package the previous evening.

So, this is what you sold your soul for?

Hey! It's a Firebolt! 

Beg to differ.  It looks like a Firebolt. 

Well of course it looks like a Firebolt! It's real!

It should be real after what you did to get it, but I'm not going to stake my life on it.

What?  You were the one who was so keen on the idea to begin with!

I merely said that it would be nice if we had something worth selling—

Which we did!

--in order to get our own broomstick! 

Which we did!

You think Bagman, out of the goodness of his heart, just walked up to us one breezy afternoon, and handed us a Firebolt practically for free, do you? 

Um…well…

Exactly.  I've got a bad feeling about this.   This has been too easy.  Way too easy.

You could have mentioned this before we went and sold that trinket!

Which, by the way, we're never going to be able to get back.  That pawnbroker's never going to sell it back. 

Well, it was the only thing of value we had!  Even though it was just a silly old gold box with a picture of a bird on it.

Silly old gold box that we dearly loved because we got it in Egypt!  The day we ran into those grave robbers in that tomb.  And I'm sure it was worth more than the price we got for it.  We're never going to get it back!

Well, there's no sense in whining over spilled milk. What's done is done, and we're just going to have to make the best of it.

Fair enough.  Now, what do we do about…him?

I don't want to think about him. 

Hmmm.  Well, we've got Quidditch practice this evening—the game is tomorrow you know—so you might want to think about how you're going to not think about him when he's going to be right there!

That son of a bitch!  I mean, who is he to accuse me of…of…and with Peter!  When have I even given Peter so much as a second glance, and the nerve of that scrawny, knobbly-kneed, scruffy-headed—

So much for not thinking about him.

—to accuse me of…of…that…why I'll…I'll…turn him into a newt!

A  what?

He'd get better. 

****

Needless to say, Harry was not having a very good day.  He kept on receiving very curious looks from the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws, while the Slytherins didn't bother to hide their amusement at his black eye and swollen nose.  Even the professors couldn't refrain from making comments on his appearance, and several went so far as to make suggestions on how to bring down the swelling.

"I'd put a nice cold steak on that eye, Mr Potter," squeaked tiny Professor Flitwick during Charms.  "I've heard it works wonders."

"You should be at Madam Pomfrey's," scolded Professor McGonagall as she was taking up the homework.  Harry nodded mutely and sank down further in his seat, trying to tune out Seamus' and Dean's chuckles.

"Ten points for fighting, Potter," sneered Snape as he passed him in the hallway. "I'm sure that black eye didn't just pop up there during the night."

 This was just too much for Harry, who snarled back, "I haven't been fighting!"  He suddenly found himself wishing that he'd not said that as loudly as he had, as a small crowd of students were gathering around him.  His face heated, especially as his gaze landed on that of Peter Byrne, standing a few feet behind Ron, and the gloating expression of Draco Malfoy, who had pushed his way right to the front of the crowd.

Snape paused and raised a greasy black eyebrow.  "Oh? Well, perhaps you'd like to explain just how you came by such an injury."

Harry swallowed.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ron's expression, torn between utter outrage that Snape was taking points from Gryffindor, and amusement that Harry might have to publicly admit just how he'd received his black eye.  "Never mind," he murmured, and quickly pushed his way through the crowd, making sure he gave Peter an extra shove.

Harry thought things couldn't have got worse after that incident, but he was very wrong.  Just as he was heading to the Great Hall for lunch, Peeves squeezed out from the left nostril of a painting of former Headmistress Michaela the Mysterious, and began to sing in the loudest,  most screeching voice he could manage:

Oh, what's a poor Seeker to do,

His eye is all black and blue

Unconscious some more,

On the Common Room floor,

And quite a nose-bleed he had too!

Harry prayed quickly for sudden death.  He turned about as quickly as he could to get up to Gryffindor Tower, but ran smack into the last person he wanted to see that day.

Ginny gasped as she stumbled back, her books flying from her arms, her face flaming just as brightly as his must've been.   She opened her mouth, as though wanting to say something.  But Harry didn't want to talk to her, not at that particular moment especially.  And so he managed to regain whatever dignity he had left and simply walked past her not even bothering to help pick up the books that had fallen.

****

"You look a bit stressed," Paul said as he plopped down next to John at the Gryffindor table.  Ginny was sitting down at the furthest end of the table with her friends, which was far as she could get from Harry.

"My girlfriend, Mae Chang, she's been suggesting that screaming helps a lot," John bragged through a large portion of cranberry sauce.

Ginny barely heard him, as she was looking down the table at Harry, who was sitting between Ron and Hermione.  She sighed.

"You should just apologise," Paul said. 

"What for?" Amy asked angrily from Ginny's left.  "She's not done anything wrong."

"It's Harry who should be apologising," Patricia said, sitting across from Amy. 

"At least go talk to him.  You two are just being stubborn, and at this rate, you won't be speaking for a year," Paul told her, ignoring the outraged looks from the girls.  "Life is very short, and there's no time for fussing and fighting."

"Go tell that to Harry," ordered Amy, glaring at Paul as though he was somehow cause of the rift between Harry and Ginny.

"Yeah," agreed Patricia, "You men are always sticking up for each other.  It's disgusting."

"Like women don't?" Paul spat back, munching on a thin wafer.  A loud popping noise followed, and Ginny quickly found herself staring at a very large walrus where Paul had been sitting.  He let out a surprised grunt through thick ivory tusks and slapped at John with a large flipper.  Thick brown fur covered his body and long black whiskers stuck out from his nose.

"Walrus wafers!" John said through astonished giggles, ducking the blow with ease.  "I bought some from Zonko's last week!"

"John, you turn him back this instant!" Ginny screeched, horrified at the possibility that the effects of the wafer wouldn't wear off in time for the Quidditch match.  She'd hate to have to explain to Madam Hooch that the walrus on the Gryffindor team was Paul.

"Lay off, it won't last long," John said in a placating tone.  "See, he's turning back now."  True enough, Ginny could start to see Paul's whiskers were fading, and he was gradually turning back to his normal color.  "There's no need to get upset, you know. You're really acting tense about this match, you know that?  Why don't you follow Mae's advice and go off and just scream for a bit?  She practically raves at how much better—"

"John, I have no interest in what your girlfriend has to say!" Ginny spat angrily.  She might have felt sorry about taking her anger out on the younger student, but all the pent up emotion that she'd been feeling over the past few days finally burst through.  The entire end of the table went very silent as John gave her a furious glare, and stomped away from the table in a huff.

"Now  you've done it," Paul said, and Ginny was relieved to note he was human again, although his two front teeth still resembled tusks.  "He'll be in that mood for the rest of the day."  And he too, left the table.

Both Patricia and Amy stared at Ginny.  "Well, fine," Ginny said.  And she left as well, taking care not to go anywhere near where Harry was sitting.

Twenty minutes later found Ginny sitting outside absently tossing stones across the lake, wincing when one hit one of the giant squid's waving tentacle.  With a large splash and a whirlpool of water, the squid quickly disappeared beneath the surface.

Great, we're managing to hack off the entire population of Hogwarts.

Well, so what?  Why should everyone else be in a good mood when I'm not?

Why can't we go talk to Harry?  We can't keep on going on like this!

He's not falling over himself trying to talk to me either! 

Well, can you be surprised?  I mean, there's no telling how long he was lying on the Common Room floor. 

He can still be there, for all I care!  And whose side are you on anyway?

Whichever side it takes to get things back to where they once belonged!  Go apologise for hitting him!

I won't!  He started it anyway, he should be the one to apologise!

"Hey Ginny," said a deep voice.  Ginny nearly jumped out of her skin.  "Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you," said Peter, easing down on the soft grass to sit next to her.  "I just wanted to wish you good luck for tomorrow," he smiled at her.

Great, this is all we need….

"Uh, thanks Peter."  Ginny felt very uncomfortable around Peter, something she'd never been before, and she couldn't help but blame Harry for causing her to feel this way.  She'd never seen Peter as anything more than a friend, but since Harry's unfounded accusation, she couldn't help but second guess herself now.

"You look tired," he observed casually.  "I think you have the right of it."

"The right of what?"

"Calling off practice.  You all could use a break."

Practice?  She'd forgotten all about it!  "Damn it!" Ginny quickly pushed herself up and dusted off her robes.  "I forgot all about practice this evening!"  She slapped her forehead in anger, and dashed towards the pitch.  "They'll be waiting on me!"

Only Sue was there, flying around the goal posts.  She caught sight of Ginny and quickly landed. Ginny panted up to her, clutching the stitch in her side.  "Ginny, where is everyone?  Where have you been? I've been here for nearly twenty minutes!"

"Where is everyone?"

"I don't know," Sue shrugged.  "Dennis got detention this afternoon from Snape, and I haven't seen anyone else."

I'm going to kill them!

Good idea, then you won't have to apologise to anyone if they're dead.  

"What are we going to do?" asked Sue.

Ginny paused for a moment.  Maybe it would be best if they all took a break from each other.  They could clear their minds, mentally gear themselves up for the match. 

"Go on back to the Tower, Sue," Ginny said at last.  From the expression on Sue's face, Ginny might have said to go kiss the giant squid.  "Seriously, I mean it.  We could all use a break."  Ginny hadn't even finished the sentence before Sue was running off, as though she feared Ginny might change her mind if she didn't leave quickly enough.

Ginny sighed.  Not wanting to walk all the way up to the Tower, in which she'd have to pass through the Common Room where she might encounter Harry, she pulled out her wand and yelled, "Accio Firebolt!"  Concentrating really hard on her Firebolt, which was safely tucked away in her dresser, she hoped no one at Hogwarts would get too upset at seeing a flyerless broom whiz through the air.

It was amazing how being on a broomstick somehow eases all worries, Ginny thought.  Once up in the air, she felt free, lighter, and better than she had all week.  The new Firebolt worked perfectly, obeying her slightest command.  There was nothing wrong with the broomstick, forgery or not. Her initial fears were put to rest.  They would win the match against Hufflepuff.  Things between her and Harry would work out.  Everything was going to be fine.

****

A/N: If anyone is still reading this, you might be pleased to note that I don't think that the next one will take as long for me to write.  I just hope this chapter was worth the wait.   Cait wanted the whole "steak" thing, so I hope she enjoys that bit.  There are some Monty Python bits to go with all the Beatles references, which as I'm anxious to get this chapter posted, I won't bother listing them all.  Imogen helped with Peeves' limerick, although I surprised myself in actually coming up with a line or two.  Anne gets a huge hug for finding all my grammar mistakes and pointing out subtext.  Thanks for reading everyone!