Disclaimer: Harry Potter remains the property of J.K. Rowling and any other publishers or organisations which I don't know, but don't want to anger. The concept of the Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon. I am not making any profit whatsoever in writing this story. I write purely for the sake of my own and others enjoyment.
A/N: I have discovered that some people can be really nasty. I have also discovered that some people take things way, way to personally.
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Chapter Thirteen: Hogwarts
"Ouch!" said Harry.
Even amidst the burning pain he was currently feeling he made sure to keep his voice down, not wanting to wake anyone up as it was still very early.
Gingerly shaking out his burning hand, he placed the boiling pot of tea on the table, rushed to the kitchen sink, turned the cold water on full blast, and stuck the offended hand under the faucet. His sigh of relief quickly turned into a hiss of pain as a splash of cold water spattered wildly, seeping into the cut on his other hand — the one that held the tap — which hadn't completely healed yet from Kreacher's tampering with the staircase banister yesterday morning.
It had been stupid of him to take the bandage off, but he had reasoned that the cut hadn't been that serious. Also, he had thought — again stupidly, he now realised — that by mixing his blood with Elizabeth's it might've given him the edge he needed to heal faster. It hadn't, and now Harry was left without a bandage and a marginally deep cut that stung whenever it made contact with the air, which was always.
He turned off the tap and wiped his now healed, though wet hand on his jeans, and then rummaged through the kitchen cupboards for a mug.
He was just about to try to stretch up to the cupboards that he couldn't actually reach when a familiar deep voice, croaky from sleep, sounded behind him.
"Need help with that?"
Harry whirled and almost overbalanced. His godfather stood in the doorway, arms braced over his chest. He looked, Harry thought — staring at his long hair, which was almost as messy as his own — like someone who had not pursued any sleep at all. "Sirius! I was just trying . . ."
"To reach a cup?" his godfather finished, sounding bemused.
"Yeah," Harry frowned. "Why are they placed so high up, anyway? You'd have to stand on a chair to get them."
"Not if you have magic, Harry," Sirius reminded him with a small smile.
"Oh." Harry blinked. "Hadn't thought of that."
"Would you like some help?" said Sirius, taking out his wand.
"Please."
A minute later both he and Sirius sat opposite each other on the table next to the monstrous stone fireplace, a warm mug of tea in hand. It was still a bit hot to drink, (as Harry found after taking a hesitant sip) so he cast around for a subject to talk about. Harry finally settled on one that had come up quite a few times during the course of his holidays. It was both foreboding and wonderful, depending on the outcome.
"Are you taking us to the train station?" he asked his godfather hopefully. Sirius had been trying to get Dumbledore to concede out of his stubborn stance and to allow him to be one of the guards taking Harry to platform nine and three quarters.
Sirius clenched his mug so tightly that his knuckles blanched. "No."
Harry didn't say anything.
Sirius cleared his throat, lifted his searching gaze, and pinned Harry with a dark stare. "According to Dumbledore I'm not needed, Harry. You'll have enough guards. Molly and Tonks are going to be there, as well as a couple of others. You'll be. . . sufficiently protected."
Harry had not really heard anything beyond, as well as a couple of others. "You mean Elizabeth isn't going to be one of my guards?"
Sirius, whose gaze had drifted back to linger on something interesting in his tea, rolled back up to Harry's. "No. I know she seems like the best choice, but she'll be doing something else . . ." he trailed off.
"Something for the Order?" said Harry at once. He hadn't realised he had leant forward until a splash of burning liquid seeped through his shirt.
"Yes," Sirius confirmed half-heartedly.
Harry discretely held his wet shirt away from his body.
"So, so what is she going to do?" he asked, trying to make it sound as though he wasn't that interested.
Sirius smiled and tossed back a long lock of hair that had fallen down the side of his face. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Harry had the impression Sirius' eyes were flicking over his own. "All I can tell you is that it's something pretty big."
The way Sirius said big made Harry think that the word should be capitalised. "Oh." He tried not to let his disappointment show. "So, when is she going to be leaving?"
Sirius rubbed his chin, which he mustn't have shaved in a week, and sighed hoarsely. "A few hours at most. She'll leave about the same time you lot will."
"Then why can't —"
"Because she'll be apparating!" his godfather said sharply.
Harry closed his mouth.
Sirius sighed, raked a hand through his long hair, and rubbed the back of his neck—hard. "I'm sorry Harry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just sort of . . . disappointed with my life at the moment."
"I don't want to go back to Hogwarts," Harry told him bluntly. "And this is the first time I've ever felt this way. I want to stay here at Grimmauld place with my family."
Sirius looked at him with something akin to awe. Then he shook his head, picked up his mug, drained it in a single swallow, and cleared his throat. "Well, Elizabeth won't be living here while you're at school. She has her own house, as you know —"
"I wasn't just talking about Elizabeth, Sirius," Harry interrupted, and both he and Sirius blinked. "I-I mean," he continued, looking down at his still full mug, "you're my family too."
There was silence from the opposite side of the table for the longest of times. When he couldn't stand it any more Harry glanced up, fully expecting Sirius to be embarrassed, but he wasn't, he was smiling, albeit tiredly, but still smiling.
Sirius must have caught Harry's amazement because he explained: "You and Elizabeth are the only relatives I have left, Harry. At least the only ones I want around me. It stands to reason that I think of you as family also. There's no need to be . . ." Sirius expelled a breath and once more raked his hair. "Look, I know that since before these holidays we haven't really, I mean, we haven't really had much of a relationship — much of any relationship for that matter. Except in correspondence. We had only ever seen each other for more than a couple times . . . I know that it's awkward for you sometimes . . . It's awkward for me too. I mean if I'd have been there for you from the beginning, maybe, possibly, things would have turned out differently. I might have gained custody of you. You might never have had to live with Lily's family . . ."
Harry nodded, too overwhelmed at experiencing this sentimental side of Sirius to really say anything. And, Harry would never admit it, but he thought his heart was going burst out of his chest, he was that pleased by what he was hearing.
Whereas before Sirius had been addressing the table as he spoke, he looked straight up at Harry now. "I want you to know that if you have any problems don't be afraid to come to me to talk about them." He dropped his gaze back to the table. "I realise that you have Elizabeth now —"
"Sirius—"
"—but, forgive me for saying, she's still just a girl. There are some things a wizard just isn't comfortable talking to girls about, especially if she's his sister."
Harry nodded. "Okay."
Sirius swallowed hard. "Okay."
The kitchen door swung open at that moment, preventing the situation from getting uncomfortable. A bushel of bright red hair entered, followed by a brisk, matronly figure.
Mrs Weasley stopped abruptly at seeing them. "Oh. You're up already, Harry. And Sirius. Good morning to both of you. Had a good sleep? Wonderful!" She scurried into the room, flicking her wand. Pots, pans, and an assortment of other cooking utensils flew out of the cupboards, coming to a clatter next to the stove. "Now then, what'll be? Toast? Cereal? Eggs and bacon? Chocolate chip pancakes?"
As she spoke, she gave a series of flicks and the cooking ingredients zipped out of the draws and cupboards coming to whirl above their heads near the ceiling before plummeting down next to the pots. "On second thought you tell me what you want first, Harry dear, that way I can make it while you pack your stuff upstairs. And wake Ron up while you're at it. And the girls as well if you don't mind."
"Erm, alright," said Harry, standing up. "What about Fred and George?"
"What?" Mrs Weasley turned from enchanting a wooden spoon to beat a thick yellow mixture inside a large silver bowl. "Oh yes, them too. Only, watch out for any booby traps they might have placed over their door."
Harry froze upon hearing that. Mrs Weasley had gone back to enchanting the kitchenware and appeared not to have seen. She also appeared as though she wouldn't hear if Harry told her what he wanted to eat. So, not wanting to bother her Harry threw Sirius a smile, (he grinned back) and made his way out of the room.
He went first to wake Fred and George, figuring that it was better that he get it over with. There weren't any booby traps on the door, to Harry's relief, but George did throw a dirty sock at him — which Harry dodged — when he tried to shake him awake.
Next he went down to the second floor where the girls' room was located. Harry had never been to Hermione, Ginny, and Elizabeth's room. Mostly because there hadn't been a need to. But he'd been expecting pink flowery wallpaper and a great fluffy carpet with teddy bears in the corner. That wasn't the case. When Harry stepped into the room he was faced with three black four-posters placed strategically against the far wall, rather like the Hogwarts dormitories. The floor was made out of stone and the bed frames all had snakeheads attached at the top, in all four corners.
He was just about to shout a wake up call to the three lumps he could see under the bedcovers when something small, black and furry came shooting at him. His seeker skills allowed him to catch it before it collided with his chest. Immediately, little arms wrapped as far as they could around his neck.
"Hello Runamuck," Harry said fondly, running a hand through the thick fur.
"Eep."
"Yes, that's right. We get to wake them up."
Muck eeped again just as a flash of ginger shot through Harry's spread legs and out the open door.
"There goes Crookshanks." He was surprised when, as he said that, Muck began struggling in his arms. "What? d'you want down?"
Muck nodded.
"Alright then." He set her down gently and she too shot out the door. "What's got into them?"
He was just about to wake Hermione up, because she was the first one Harry had spotted, her hair so bushy that it could be seen sticking out from under the bedcovers, when a pillow collided with his face and an irritated voice shouted: "Would you shut up, babe? Some of us have highly sensitive ears and haven't slept all night thanks to long-bearded old men who deem fit to send us on unconstructive missions! Thank you!"
By the time Harry removed the pillow from his face Elizabeth, who had sat up to tell him off, flopped back down and buried under the covers again. He was bursting with curiosity about "the unconstructive mission" Dumbledore had sent her on, but he knew he would never find out.
As it was, her shouting had woken Hermione and Ginny, who must have thought it appropriate to chuck pillows at him as well, which, from reflex and previous experience, he knew to duck under. A few sleepy mumbles got thrown at him and until Ginny muttered "Alright, we're awake," did Harry leave them.
Harry then walked to the room down the corridor, which was his own and Ron's. He wasn't worried about any pillows or dirty socks flying at him this time, because he always had to be the one to wake Ron up while at Hogwarts.
It only took a few seconds until Ron gave a grunting snore, turned over, yawned, and rubbed his eyes. "Alright Harry?" he mumbled, yawning again. "Had a good dream," he continued, throwing his legs over the side of his bed. "Chudley Cannons won the World Cup."
"That's great Ron," Harry said, while privately thinking Ron must still be half asleep.
"Yeah. Four hundred and thirty to ten. What's Mum want then?"
Harry explained everything Mrs Weasley had told him to.
"Chocolate chip?" was Ron's answer as he started pulling up a sock. "She hasn't made those in ages. It's cause of your big sis, isn't it? She's trying to make up for the stuff she said that time."
"But they've already made up," Harry protested. "I even saw your Mum teaching Elizabeth how to knit a couple of days ago."
"Yeah, well as long as she doesn't take any tips from Hermione . . ."
He and Harry sniggered.
"But still, chocolate chip? Chocolate is Elizabeth's favourite food isn't it?" Ron asked while putting on his trousers.
"Yeah," Harry admitted, knowing Ron was thinking about the incident with the chocolate cake on his and Hermione's Congratulations on Making Prefect party. "She really likes Mars Bars."
"What are Mars —? I'LL KILL 'EM!"
Harry, who had gone over to his side of the room to begin packing as well promptly whirled around at that, unconscious of the fact that he held a pair of underwear in hand.
"What is it?"
Ron looked up from rummaging in a draw, his face a mask of fury. "They've taken it. My Prefect badge! I left it here just last night!"
"Who's taken it?" asked Harry, though he had a shrewd suspicion.
"Tweedledee and Tweedledum!" Ron answered, mimicking Hermione's favourite muggle literature phrase of late. "Who else!"
"Well you can't really know . . ." Harry trailed off at the look on Ron's face. "Maybe you can," he murmured. "But how could they have gotten in?"
"They can apparate, that's how!"
"But we would have heard them . . . You're right, Ron," he added hastily. "It was definitely Fred and George!"
Ron was about to answer but a loud crack prevented him.
"You!" he snarled.
Fred and George had apparated into the room.
"Us?" said George, looking at Fred. "You'd think we'd done something wrong with the way he's greeted us. Morning Harry, Snitches?"
It took Harry a moment to work out what on earth George had meant. When he did he hastily stuffed his boxers in his trunk and slammed shut the lid. "Elizabeth got them for me," he mumbled, his face burning.
Even Ron had a good laugh over that one.
"Ah Harry," said Fred, wiping a fake tear from the corner of his eye, "you never fail to amuse. Now, what's all this shouting about? You two get into an argument?"
"Dibs on the redhead," George added. "And not just because he's my brother. That boy can really kick!"
"Ron's lost his Prefect badge," explained Harry without thinking.
"I haven't lost it," Ron said tightly, glaring at his best friend. "You two stole it!" He waved
an accusing finger between the equally shocked expressions that the twins were sporting.
Harry assumed that either Fred or George actually hadn't stolen Ron's badge, or they were really good actors. Ron must have thought so too because he stopped pointing. "Well if you didn't, who then?"
George shrugged. "Beats me, little brother. But I know we wouldn't dream of tampering with it." He said that in such an innocent tone that it had to be suspect. Before Ron could question him about it, he continued, "Although, you should really make a list about who goes in and out your room, besides us and Harry of course."
"Everyone does," said Ron dully. "Mum especially," he added.
"There you have it! Mum's the culprit. She probably took it downstairs to polish."
"I can polish my own badge."
"Do you?" Fred said slyly. Before Ron could answer he and George disapparated.
"Can you believe them?" Ron sputtered, turning to look disbelievingly at Harry. "I bet it was them. I bet they were only lying!"
"Maybe," was all Harry said, but he knew that both he and Ron weren't entirely convinced."
A couple of hours later after having eaten breakfast, Ron still hadn't found his Prefect badge, and had taken to blasting people (which included Mrs Wealsey) with random questions, hoping to catch them off guard. It was only until Mrs Wealsey leaned over the table and told him to shut up, did he do so. They all suspected that she was more than a little disappointed this morning because she had gone to all the trouble of making pancakes for Elizabeth, only to be told that she was still fast asleep and most likely wouldn't be joining them for breakfast.
But who should walk through the door a few moments later than Elizabeth herself, clutching a muggle duffel bag under one arm and a screaming, struggling, kicking Kreacher in another.
Everyone stared.
"Kreacher will not! Kreacher will not!" The house elf was screaming and shaking his head, beating his small fists at Elizabeth's stomach. She didn't even wince.
"Morning all," she said cheerfully, looking as though holding a screaming house elf was an every day occurrence. "I discovered this," the word 'this' was punctuated with Elizabeth holding Kreacher up by the neck and giving him a good shake, "in the attic, trying to pry open that magically sealed floorboard with your Mum's portrait in it, Sirius." Sirius only arched a brow. "And what else did I find that he hid up there. . .?"
"Kreacher will not! Kreacher will not!" The elf was struggling and punching and kicking so hard that his face had gone puce with the effort.
"Oh but you will if Sirius tells you to. Or if I pry it from you," she finished in a dark tone, looking towards Sirius.
Sirius, apparently having got over his shock, leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and grinned as if to say "he's all yours."
"Stupid filthy halfblood girl!" the elf was snarling. "Kreacher wonders how she knows what Kreacher does. Every time she catches him. Every time she finds him!" The elf had gotten so angry that it seemed he had trouble breathing.
"When you mutter so loud that people in the next street can here you" —and people with supernatural hearing, Harry added silently— "and you have to wonder?" Elizabeth responded in her dry tone.
A brief glace at Hermione showed that she looked torn between guilt at the treatment Kreacher was receiving (which, in Harry's and, he was sure, in everyone else's opinion the house elf deserved) and curiosity at what he might have done. Though Harry was beginning to suspect . . .
"Kreacher will get the Mistress," Elizabeth mimicked, sounding uncannily like the house elf. "Kreacher will rid the Black House of its filth. When the mudbloods and werewolves and all the filth is gone Kreacher will put Mistress back on the wall. Oh my poor Mistress, stuck under the floor because of the brat boy's sister . . . blah blah blah blah blah," she finished dully. "You know, I'm getting mighty sick of this."
"Aren't we all?" Sirius threw out from his place at the end of the table. He was still grinning.
Elizabeth grinned back. "Now, oh wicked little house elf, are you going to give Ron back his badge, or am I going to have to cut your hand off?" She said it sweetly, which made it sound all the more dangerous.
Ron looked incredibly surprised at having discovered it was Kreacher who had stolen his badge.
Kreacher looked like he was about to choke, and just as it seemed as if he would pass out from lack of hair he lifted his hand, which they saw was clenched around the badge, and threw it at Ron as hard as he could, which wasn't hard. Ron caught it and slipped it into his pocket.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Elizabeth said, setting Kreacher down on the floor.
"Kreacher must do as the young mistress wishes," he mumbled, not looking up from the ground. Though his eyes were darting. "Young mistress is dangerous. She knows things somehow. Kreacher cannot breathe without her knowing. Kreacher does not know what she is, but he will find out. They think they can keep secrets in the Black House, but Kreacher always knows —"
"The only thing you should know is how to leave the room in a hurry Kreacher," Sirius said dangerously. He had leaned forward in his seat and placed his forearms on the table. He was no longer smiling.
The elf froze and turned to glare at Sirius before giving him a mock bow. "Kreacher will do so, Master."
When Kreacher left, still muttering obscenities under his breath, everyone turned to look at Elizabeth.
"What?" she shrugged, dragging out the a. "You know he's been acting all freaky since I, erm, removed Sirius's mother's portrait from the wall. He's been stealing a lot lately. He's got a whole bunch of other stuff up in the attic too. I even found somebody's toothbrush up there just now. It looked really new."
Ignoring the resounding "ewws" and Tonks' shocked "I'd wondered where that went," Mrs Weasley shook her head. "It's not that dear," she said, looking puzzled. "It's just that you've managed to make him listen to you. No one who's not Sirius has ever done that."
Elizabeth blinked. Harry had never seen anyone look more surprised. "Oh. Well people have told me that I can be intimidating sometimes. Have no idea why. I have such a sweet disposition."
Harry hastily converted his laugh into quite a convincing cough. Elizabeth threw him a wink.
"Some water, Harry?" Hermione offered between gritted teeth, and Harry knew that neither he nor Elizabeth had earned any points with her.
He accepted the water, but avoided her eyes.
The morning drifted onwards very fast as it always does when you don't want it to. There had been some minor interruptions courtesy of Fred and George who couldn't remember where they'd stashed their second stock of sweets. Ron reminded them, much to Harry's surprise, that they were under Ron's bed, stuffed in a pillowcase.
At last it was time to leave.
They all lingered by the door, not needing to keep quiet anymore as Mrs Black's portrait was no longer there. Sirius gave him a strong one-armed hug and whispered for him to "take care" while Elizabeth squeezed first Hermione and Ginny, then Fred and George. When she withdrew from embracing the twins Harry could see that she had deposited something in Fred's hands. The looks of delight on their faces told him that it must have been something to do with a prank ingredient.
Ron looked to be eagerly awaiting his turn, and when Elizabeth hugged him she also gave him a small kiss on the cheek. Ron's ears did not stop burning and he had a hazy faraway look in his eyes for a long time after that.
Harry did not even have time to think at last it's my turn before he was lifted up, literally up from the ground so that his feet dangled, into such a strong embrace that his oxygen supply was cut off for a good ten seconds. When Elizabeth realised this she set him gently down and tenderly wrapped her arms around him again. Harry did the same. They just held each other for a long moment, Harry breathing in her scent, (which had become so familiar) breathing it in deep so that he wouldn't forget.
"I love you my little Harry," she finally mumbled against his shoulder.
"I love you," Harry whispered, so that only she heard. A slight jolt in his stomach made him realise that it was the first time he had ever spoken those words to anyone.
When they drew back Harry saw her emerald eyes had become crystalline because of the silent crying she'd been doing. She wiped them with the bottom of her shirt. "Be careful," she advised seriously.
"I will," he promised.
"And if some idiot people give you any trouble . . ." she trailed off, the look in her eyes dark and dangerous.
"I'll just sic Hedwig on them," Harry promised, but also knowing that the words would have made more of an impact if he'd promised he'd sic Runamuck on them instead. But Muck wasn't going to Hogwarts with Harry. As far as he knew, Bunyips weren't allowed there. The siblings had earlier agreed that she would be staying at Grimmauld Place with Sirius and Buckbeak while Elizabeth did secretive work for the Order.
"Everyone ready?" Mrs Weasley asked, turning this way and that to count the heads. "What is . . .? Sirius! For heaven's sake! Dumbledore said NO!"
Sirius had transformed into the huge Grim-like dog and now sat by Harry's side, wagging his tail erratically. He barked once.
"Oh no you won't!" said Mrs Weasley, apparently having picked up on Elizabeth's habit of talking to and understating animals. "You know what Dumbledore said!" She snapped her head upwards. "Elizabeth, talk to him, would you? You and Remus are the only ones he listens to these days!"
Since Lupin was currently gone, doing mysterious Order work, it would have to be Elizabeth's duty. But everyone could see that she didn't particularly want to. In fact, she grimaced as she looked down at Sirius. "Um, Molly, don't you think that Sirius —"
"Not really, no," said Mrs Weasley. Then she seemed to deflate. "Oh alright! But if you get caught, on your own head be it, Sirius." She shook her finger twice at the dog to prove her point.
Sirius barked happily, and Mrs Weasley sighed once more. "Alright you lot, time to go," she ordered shuffling them briskly along. They filed out of the house with Sirius bounding joyfully in front. Moody and his swirling eye, draped in a muggle coat and Thirties hat, was waiting for them by the porch. Harry had time only to whip around for one last look at his sister, who was standing alone in the dark corridor waving tearfully, before Mrs Weasley shut the door.
It was time to go to Hogwarts.
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"Big?" Hermione reiterated, biting her lip. The book she had been steadfastly perusing, entitled Magical Herbs, nowlay forgotten on the table next to her "Well that isn't so hard to work out, is it? She's obviously gone to see the giants."
"I thought so as well," Harry said.
Ron gulped, eyes flicking from one friend to the other. "See the giants? She's gone to see the giants? By herself? You make it sound like she's gone 'round for tea and crumpets." Despite obviously feeling that Dumbledore and Elizabeth were mental, Ron still looked deeply impressed.
"I don't think so Ron," Hermione said, frowning. "Remember Hagrid wasn't at the feast," she reminded them. "Who knows how long he's been away. I bet Dumbledore told Elizabeth to find him so they can go and see the giants together. It'll be easy for her to do so, I imagine. She can sense magical creatures, can't she? And they can sense her, no matter if they don't know what she is exactly."
Ron just shook his head and looked thoughtful. "I suppose it's not like they can actually hurt her, is it? She's, I mean—" he lowered his head and looked around the common room in case anyone was lurking behind armchairs, despite that it was not yet six o'clock in the morning "—she's a Slayer. A legend. There's not much that can hurt her."
Hermione frowned. "Well, theoretically, no. One giant, maybe two, can't hurt her. She can probably beat them up. But a whole herd of them, ganging up on her . . ." she trailed off and glanced uneasily at Harry. "Of course, she still has her magic!" she finished extremely quickly.
Harry felt a frission of fear strike his stomach for a second before he remembered that Elizabeth was smarter than to let a herd of giants bash her to a bloody pulp. Plus, she had Hagrid with her.
"But what about Hagrid?" Ron seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Harry. "She'll be safe with Hagrid. The giants wouldn't hurt him, would they? I mean, he's one of them."
"They're giants Ron," said Hermione gently, still looking sideways at Harry. "And don't forget, Hagrid's also part human."
"Oh. Right." Ron glanced up at Harry as well.
"Will you quit that!" Harry snapped at them. Ron gaped. Hermione shrank back in her chair, a hurt look in her eyes. Harry sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just, you're looking at me like I'm going to break down or something. I know that Elizabeth can take care of herself. She's proven it to me loads of times. Once, she told me about this Giant Wyrm she sometimes had problems with . . . But I'm not going to be bursting into tears just because I think she might get hurt."
"We're sorry Harry," said Hermione softly.
"Yeah mate. Sorry."
Harry nodded and breathed deeply once more. "So, ahem, have we found anything in the books?"
They seemed glad for the change of topic, and Hermione became her usual brisk self. "Not yet. But then we've only been back for two days. And there's so much homework on top of that! But as soon as I'm able, I'll get a permission slip from Professor McGonagall so I can use the Restricted Section."
"D'you think she'll let you?" asked Ron, looking sceptical.
"I'll tell her I'm using it for extra credit," Hermione explained, already flipping avidly through Magical Herbs. "Besides, I'm a Prefect, and that ought to help my situation along."
"In the meantime," Harry began, feeling a shot of excitement churn through his stomach, "Ron and I can look up that Blood Brother charm and —"
THUMP!
Hermione had slammed shut her book and was now looking at him through narrowed eyes. He exchanged a glance with Ron. "Hermione?" he questioned.
Her cheeks heightened in colour, and she stared down at the thick text in her lap. "Look Harry, I'm sorry, but I don't think that's such a good idea!" Her voice had turned shrill at the end of the sentence and her face had become even brighter. Harry did not think it was from embarrassment from the fact that she'd, apparently, changed her mind about performing the charm.
"Why not!" he and Ron yelled out at the same time.
"You thought it was a good idea earlier!" Ron looked indignant.
"Be quiet!" she whispered furiously, looking behind her at the stairs leading to the dormitories. "I did not think it was a good idea. If you recall, I was very reluctant to perform the charm."
"But now you've suddenly changed your mind?" Harry said dryly, something he'd most likely picked up from his sister.
Hermione winced. "Obviously."
They waited for her to elaborate.
She sighed and stood up. They watched her pace in front of the fire for a few seconds before she turned to look at them. "I got to thinking before, I mean a few days ago, after you told us about it, Harry."
"And?"
"And —" Hermione's cheeks heightened in colour again "—doesn't the whole situation sound contrived to you?"
"What d'you mean?" began Harry quickly, hoping Hermione wasn't saying what he thought she was. "You think that Elizabeth might have deliberately, Idon't know, cut herself on the piece of wood?"
"Sort of," she said tentatively, refusing to meet his eyes.
Ron braced his elbows on his knees. "Out with it then, Hermione!"
"She might have deliberately placed the piece of wood there, cut it from the banister, I mean, and positioned it so that it was sticking out — knowing everyone would think it was Kreacher since he's been doing stuff like that — then deliberately cut herself on it knowing that you, Harry, would come downstairs a few seconds later and cut yourself on the same bit of wood, thus having the excuse to perform the Blood Brother charm with you! And she would have known you were coming down the stairs because she would have heard you. She has advanced hearing. Maybe she even heard you before that as well!"
Harry and Ron only gaped a small moment before bursting out laughing. Hermione had said that extremely fast, without taking a breath, but that wasn't what they were laughing at. Her theory was so far-fetched that it sounded completely ludicrous.
"Thank you very much," Hermione bit out, clenching her fists. "But you seem to have forgotten what she told Harry afterwards—"
"Hermione," Ron finally said between breaths, "you've had some pretty strange ideas before. Like with the knitting and the whole Spew thing—"
"It's S.P.E.W!"
Ron continued like he hadn't heard her angry retort "—but why would she do that? There's no reason!"
"There's a perfectly logical reason!" she argued. "What about what she told Harry?"
Harry, who still hadn't stopped laughing clutched his stomach, asked: "What did she tell me?"
"That it would look suspicious if someone saw that her cut had healed straight away. I mean, really!" Hermione snorted incredulously. "Like I said, she could have just explained that she had healed it by magic. But that's still only if someone saw her straight after she had cut herself, which I doubt. You told me yourself that she met you coming up the stairs, Harry. Don't you think the whole situation is a bit, well, strange? She just happened to cut herself the same time you did?"
Harry and Ron promptly stopped laughing. Ron looked uneasy. "Yeah, that does sound a bit . . ." he turned to Harry.
"Even if what you say is true," Harry began, strangely not that annoyed, "like Ron said, what possible reason?"
"And like I said before, there's probably a perfectly logical reason and I don't want to do this charm until I find out what that reason is! And why Elizabeth is hiding it. I know that she would never hurt us, so I don't think that the reason is anything harmful. But, she did set all this up. And whatever she's hiding she must not want you to know about it Harry." She finished by looking at him sympathetically.
This was sounding far too serious now to be just one of Hermione's strange ideas.
"You want me to Floo her then? You want me to ask my sister, whom I've only just met, whether or not she has it in for me?"
"Harry!"
He winced. "I know. I know. You don't think she has it in for me. I shouldn't have said it."
"Good. But I do think you should Floo her. Owling is out of the question though. I imagine she and Hagrid will have to be discrete, and letters are too easily traced. So Flooing is our only option at this point."
"But we don't know where she is," Ron said.
"When Hagrid comes back, we'll know that Elizabeth has come back also," Hermione explained calmly. "If she's not at Grimmauld Place we'll try your house Harry."
It took Harry a few seconds to realise that Hermione was not talking about Number Four Private Drive but his new residence on Magnolia Crescent.
"Okay," Harry agreed, still feeling completely overwhelmed. There was also another strange feeling. A painful, bitter feeling that weighed down on his heart. Harry new what it was: Betrayal. And he never expected he would ever associate it with his sister. "I'm going down to the Great Hall," he mumbled at them before scooping up his shoulder bag with his quills, ink, and parchment.
"What! But Harry —"
"Haven't you caused enough problems Hermione?" he said cruelly.
She closed her mouth tightly and her eyes became teary.
"And what about you!" Harry spun around to glare at his other best friend, who shrank back in his chair. "Don't you have anything to say?"
Ron sputtered. "I was on your side!"
A small whimper came from Hermione over that admission.
"Yeah, well . . ." Harry stuttered, feeling very stupid all of a sudden. "I'm going!" He spun around and walked extremely fast across the common room and out of the portrait hole. He didn't stop to glance around when Ron yelled his name either.
"Isn't it a bit early for breakfast?" the Fat Lady called after him, but Harry continued on.
Idiot! Harry berated himself as he walked the corridors to the Great Hall. How could he have said that to Hermione? How could he have been so cruel? It seemed that ever since he had come back to Hogwarts — one time his favourite place in the world — things had gone really stupid. First the people, looking at him like he belonged in St Mungos. Then Umbridge with her week of detentions making him use that horrible quill (just because Harry had told the truth about Voldemort's return and the Ministry were too stupid to see it), and now this.
His own sister had lied to him. Set him up. Injured him. And for no apparent reason that Harry could see.
His angry strides lengthened even more at the thought. In no time at all, and not remembering how he got there, Harry found himself in the Great Hall. He walked to the Gryffindor table and sat down in the dark empty space. The only sound that could be heard was his frustrated breathing. Harry looked around at the vast emptiness, usually filled with chattering students. Thinking that it really was too early to have breakfast Harry walked back out of the hall with no real destination in mind.
He was surprised when he found himself back in front of the Gryffindor common room.
"You again?" said the Fat Lady. "Let me guess. The house elves haven't put breakfast on the tables yet?"
Harry snarled.
"No need to look at me like that! Password?"
"Never mind," Harry muttered. The mention of house elves had given him an idea.
"That isn't the password."
Harry ignored her and turned back around, but this time he walked rather morosely. He was a coward. Choosing house elves rather than confronting Ron and Hermione. He wondered if they were angry at him. Even Harry was angry at himself. At least he would get see Dobby. Dobby wouldn't be angry at him.
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