A/N: Chapter two already—yes! I hope you enjoy it.
"GIVE THAT BACK YOU FILTHY MUTT!"
Harry leapt out of the way as a furry brown rocket zoomed by with a very red-faced Ron right on his tail. As Ron thundered past, Harry looked down the hall and caught a glimpse of something orange clenched in Rupert's teeth.
It was a second before he recognized what it was. Then Harry suddenly knew why Ron was so angry, and couldn't exactly blame him. It was quite obvious that Hermione's exhaustingly exuberant puppy had just gotten hold of Ron's Chudley Cannons hat and was well on its way to chewing the life out of it.
"NO!" wailed Ron, as he finally caught hold of one end of the hat and gave a mighty pull. "NO! LET IT GO! I SAID LET IT—AAAARGH!"
Rupert suddenly gave up the hat for a great mouthful of Ron's hand whose owner howled in pain and tried to wrench it free.
"Ron—don't!" shrieked Hermione as she suddenly came whirling into the room, scooping up Rupert in a flash and making Ron give another yelp of pain as the dog's teeth detached so suddenly from his arm. "How dare you treat him like that!" she said with a very sour look on her face.
Harry watched in sympathy as Ron sputtered for a moment. "HE ATE MY CHUDLEY CANNONS HAT!" Ron bellowed at last, holding up the tattered remains of said apparel, which was now dripping steadily with saliva.
"He's only just a—ouch!—puppy, Ron." Hermione winced as Rupert caught hold of her earlobe and began gnawing enthusiastically on it. "He's teething," she said, wrenching the puppy away from her head and setting him back on the ground. Much to Harry's horror, Rupert then proceeded to catapult himself in Harry's direction and upon reaching him, launched himself onto Harry's shoelaces.
"I can see that," Ron growled, massaging his hand. "But why can't he bloody teeth on something else?"
Hermione gave him a withering glare. "He doesn't know any better, Ron—he's only just a—"
"Puppy—yeah," Ron finished for her with a nasty, sarcastic tone. "Yeah, alright, whatever you say."
Four hours later, in a recently discovered upstairs study, Harry ground his teeth as Rupert once again missed the toy he was supposed to be chewing and instead clamped down on Harry's unwisely exposed ankle.
Now, in the long run, Harry had never been a very big dog person (this owing to a rather traumatic incident many years ago involving his grotesque and strangely masculine Aunt, her dog, and a very tall tree). But though that feeling had lessened quite a bit after meeting Sirius and getting to know him in his Animagus form, Harry still had trouble warming up to Hermione's new visitor.
"Just tell him No when he does that, Harry," said Hermione, looking up from her latest epic-sized tomb at the sound of Rupert's growling.
"Uh-huh," Harry replied distractedly as he carefully dislodged his ankle and pulled it up with him on top of his chair.
"Stop pestering me, you ruddy cat!"
Crookshanks hissed as Ron gave him an angry shove, moving him rather forcefully off the copy of Quidditch Through the Ages that he had recently borrowed (again) from Harry. Ron now lay sprawled on the ground by the unlit fireplace, reading the very same book for what seemed the hundredth time that summer.
"Ron," said Hermione warningly, and Harry felt the impending doom that always seemed to accompany that certain tone.
"Well, he was bothering me," Ron muttered in defense. But at the look on Hermione's face, he grudgingly moved himself onto the couch where he would be much farther out of Crookshanks "territory."
This new movement, however, did not go unnoticed by Rupert, who bounded over to Crookshanks and made a fine sight of trying to make off with his thick, bottlebrush tail. Crookshanks gave out a squeal of disgust and darted out of the room with Rupert right behind, yipping and snapping his little jaws.
"Oh, no—Crookshanks! Rupert, get back here!" Hermione leapt out of her chair, her massive book falling to the ground with a loud THUNK, and followed the two out of the room. Harry could hear her sprinting down the hall. Then suddenly, there was a great crash which was followed by what seemed like an entire orchestra of yips, hisses, barks and groans.
"Gosh, Hermione—I'm so sorry! I just didn't see—OUCH!"
"Rupert, get off her!"
Harry and Ron hurried out into the hallway and in moments were all but rolling on the floor with laughter at the sight before them.
Tonks, the poor woman, had apparently suffered the extreme misfortune of attempting to come down the stairs carrying an armful of parchments just as Crookshanks and Rupert (followed closely by Hermione) had sped underfoot. The result was a tangle of arms, legs, claws and teeth—not to mention heaps of parchment that littered the floor so thickly it looked almost as though a tornado had come through instead of just a cat, puppy, and bushy-haired girl.
It was now that Rupert finally caught hold of Crookshanks' tail with a triumphant growl. An instant later, however, he not-so-triumphantly held on for dear life as the cat zoomed frantically about, banging off walls and furniture and setting up such a terrible yowling that it woke up Mrs. Black's portrait, who then proceeded to raise up a ruckus that topped even Rupert and Crookshank's combined.
"…FILTHY SLIME IN MY HOUSE!" she was now screaming at what seemed to be the top of her lungs (Harry was never quite sure how loud she could get, as it always appeared to him that she got much louder every time). "MUDBLOOD WRETCH BRINGING HORRIBLE BEASTS IN TO MY HOUSE!"
"YOU'RE THE BEAST, YOU MISERABLE WOMAN!"
Harry could hear Sirius wrestling with the curtain downstairs and secretly admired him for not using more colorful language. Harry knew what it was like to have touchy relatives…
"Here," said Hermione once she and Tonks had disentangled themselves. "Let me help you with—No! Rupert!" Hermione made a grab for the partially unrolled map that Rupert was starting to make off with. Unfortunately she missed it and instead landed smack on top of an already thoroughly traumatized Crookshanks.
Screeching in surprise, he took off and bolted up the stairs faster than even Rupert could follow (though he made a valiant attempt). With a yip of glee, Rupert scrambled after Crookshanks and was very soon out of sight.
"Oooh—sorry Crookshanks—Rupert! No—Rupert come back!"
"Just let them go already, Hermione," said Ron as he and Harry started picking up armfuls of parchment and handing them back to Tonks.
"What is all this, anyway?" Harry asked Tonks hurriedly, cutting off Hermione as she opened her mouth for an undoubtedly scathing retort.
"Order stuff," she said promptly, holding her hand out to Ron who had just picked up the last sheet.
"Really!" Ron said excitedly. He started to unroll the parchment but Tonks snatched it out of his hands before he could read it, almost dropping her load all over again in the process.
"Thanks for the help," she sang lightly, ignoring Ron's dark look and sweeping out of the room.
Ron shoved his hands in his pockets and said sulkily, "We never get to see anything. I mean, after we helped her and everything the least she could do was—"
"Oh, stop complaining, Ron," Hermione snapped, brushing off her jeans with a disgruntled look on her face. Then she walked across the hall to poke her head up the stairwell. "Great," she muttered. "Now I've got to go find them."
Ron made a face at Hermione's back as she disappeared up the stairs.
"I wish she would stop telling me what to do all the time," he growled. "I hate bossy women."
Outwardly, Harry nodded, but inwardly he had the sneaking suspicion that Ron was just saying that to be spiteful. Harry had the impression that though Ron probably didn't like bossy women in general, he certainly seemed to like Hermione—maybe even more than like her.
But Harry was rather fond of having Ron as a friend and so decided against voicing this particular observation.
"Come on mate," said Harry jovially, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let's go see if Ginny's gotten into that locked door yet."
Hermione jumped up from her chair as Harry, Ron and Ginny entered the room, all looking glum.
"Where have you three been?" she asked with what seemed like a slightly frantic edge to her voice. She swooped down on them like a vulture, her short, curly hair in frazzled disarray.
"Um…" said Harry and Ron together, looking a bit uncomfortable.
Ginny rolled her eyes and pushed in front of them. "I found this locked door downstairs yesterday," she said, exasperated. "And now these blockheads are obsessed with seeing what's behind it." She gave Hermione a boys-are-so-stupid look.
"We are not obsessed!" said Ron, narrowing his eyes and scowling at his sister.
"Sure," she replied, rolling her eyes again.
But Hermione, whom all of this seemed to be directed at, didn't appear to care. "Have any of you seen Rupert or Crookshanks?" she asked, sounding steadily more frantic as she tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. "I can't find them!"
Harry elbowed Ron, quickly turning his gleeful smile into a wince of pain. "Don't worry, Hermione," he said. "We'll help you find them—won't we, Ron?" He gave the red-head a meaningful look.
Ron did not seem keen to this idea, however, as he stood there massaging his side where Harry's elbow had caught him. But, as always, true friendship never failed to shine through, and he grudgingly mumbled, "Yeah, fine."
After a slight pause, Hermione broke out a small smile and then sped towards the door. "Thanks loads!" she said happily. "Harry, Ron—you can start on the second floor while Ginny and I take the first."
Ginny obediently followed after her, but was almost flattened as Hermione suddenly turned.
"And Ron…" she said, putting her hands on her hips in a very stern sort of way. "Be nice."
He made no reply, but just scowled.
An hour later found Ginny and Hermione completely unsuccessful, pondering and pouting on the very same moth-eaten sofa that had recently served as Hermione's convenient hideaway.
"Oh," Hermione groaned into Ginny's shoulder. "Oh, Ginny, I'm so irresponsible! How could I lose them? Both of them?" Her body shook as a sudden sob overtook her. "I'm a t-terrible p-person!" she wailed, flinging herself onto one of the lumpy pillows and setting off another great cloud of dust.
After a short coughing fit, Ginny patted her friend's back in a desperate attempt to comfort her. "No, Hermione, you're not a terrible person," she said, then sneezed. "We'll find them. I promise."
Hermione looked up at her with big, brown, watery eyes and sniffed heartily.
"I mean, honestly," Ginny continued after giving Hermione a warm hug. "It's not like they just disappeared out of thin air!" She smiled widely. "We just have to keep looking, that's all."
Instantly, as though somebody had flicked a switch on the back of her head, Hermione's sobs were gone, and her unusually mournful expression was replaced with the familiar one of absolute determination.
"Alright," she said, standing up. "Alright, let's go. Maybe Harry and Ron have found something by now."
"Yes," agreed Ginny, following suit. "I'll bet I know the first place they looked, too."
As if on cue, the sound of footsteps pounding down the staircase reached their ears and momentarily, Harry and Ron came huffing and panting into the room.
"We—we found them," gasped Harry, wincing slightly as he tried to draw breath.
Hermione looked positively thrilled. "Really?" she squealed. "Oh, how wonderful! Where are they?"
Harry and Ron exchanged hesitant glances.
"Well…" Harry started to say, but Ron jumped in, his ears slightly pink.
"Behind a door in the laundry room," he said very fast. "I heard the dog barking."
Hermione opened her mouth, but Ginny beat her to it.
"In the laundry room? You mean the locked door in the laundry room?" She threw up her hands in what appeared to be utter disgust. "Obsessed! What did I tell you? Absolutely ob—"
"It's true!" shouted Ron, whose face was starting to redden.
"OH! Is it?" Ginny replied loudly. "And why should I believe you, Mr. Just-use-Alohomora?"
Ron sputtered in anger for a moment, but was saved a response as Hermione suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, spoke up.
"I believe you, Ron," she said, to everyone's amazement.
"You—you do?" he managed to stammer.
Hermione smiled and gave Ginny a discreet poke in the side to keep her from objecting. "Of course," she said. "Just show me the way."
"But he's lying," Ginny whined as all four of them exited the room and walked quickly down the hall.
Ron gave her a furious glare. "Am not!" he snapped.
"Are too! You don't care about Rupert! You just want to—"
"It's alright," said Hermione quietly. "Ron wouldn't lie to me—would you, Ron?"
There was the slightest of pauses and then, "Er…no," he said finally. "No, I wouldn't."
"See?" Hermione smiled and continued on, a slight spring added to her step.
Scowling, Ginny edged up right beside Ron, trying to get close enough so that Hermione could not over-hear. "You're going to look really stupid," she whispered sharply, "when that locked room turns out to be nothing more than an old broom closet."
"Whatever—You wait. You just wait and see," he replied nastily. But his expression was noticeably less confident.
The laundry room was not how Harry initially expected. But then again, he probably should have guessed that a house belonging to a family of wizards (not to mention a family of self-centered pureblood wizards) would not posses a muggle washing machine and dryer. But he couldn't deny being surprised when he walked into a large room and found three rows of very big barrels filled to the brim with soapy water and what appeared to be nothing for drying at all.
Of course, Harry thought, it wasn't like they needed anything especially high-tech. They could always just use magic.
"That's another thing," said Ginny in a loud voice as they made their way to the back of the room. "Let's just pretend for a minute that Ron is right, and Rupert and Crookshanks are behind the door—how did they get there?" She glared at her brother, clearly annoyed. "Are you telling me that the door we've been trying to unlock for two days now just opened by itself and let them through, did it?"
"Yes," He replied promptly.
Ginny looked absolutely disgusted. Harry noticed her face starting to turn red in what he now recognized as a very Weasley-like manner, and saw her flexing her hand as though itching to draw her wand. He thought it might be good to step in before any serious damage was done—like Ron getting his ears hexed off.
"You know, it could just be a spell," Harry said as nonchalantly as he could manage. "Maybe it just opens for animals or—"
"Just opens for animals? Harry!" Ginny gave him an incredulous look. "Are you serious? What sort of spell would do that?"
A little embarrassed, and wondering why he ever decided to open his mouth, Harry gave a small shrug.
The argument was over, however, as they approached the door. Everyone was silent—even Ginny.
"Do you hear anything?" asked Hermione eventually.
"No," replied everyone else.
"It's locked—you said?
"Yes," groaned Ron impatiently. "We've tried everything."
"Well, let me just…" Hermione reached out a hand for the doorknob, unsure of where exactly she should start. But whatever she was expecting, it was definitely not what happened next
The instant Hermione's fingertips grazed the bronze, tarnished handle of the door there was an explosion of noise. Sirens blared all around them and a woman's voice (which seemed to be coming from somewhere above their heads) wailed in a loud, shrill voice, "MUDBLOOD! MUDBLOOD IN THE HOUSE! MUDBLOOOOOD!"
White as a sheet and startled completely out of her skin, Hermione snatched her hand back and looked over her shoulder at everyone with wide, terrified eyes.
"What's—?" she started to say, but before she could get out another word, some sort of magnetic force seemed to catch hold of her arm started to drag her towards the door. Her bare feet skidded on the white tiled floor as she tried to pull back, but no matter how hard she struggled, she could not seem to keep herself from moving forward. The door flew open with a menacing bang as she continued to be magnetically pulled towards it. A gust of moaning wind barreled out of the yawning opening, sending shivers all the way up to the tips of Harry's hair as he stared down a stone hall that seemed to melt into darkness.
"Help!" Hermione shrieked, her free arm waving wildly in search of an anchor.
"Hermione!" Ron dove and caught her flailing hand, planting his foot against one of the giant barrels of soapy water. For one wild second it looked as though he was going to be able to hold her back, but suddenly the barrel gave a great groan and then the entire thing collapsed, spilling a wave of cold water over the tops of everyone's shoes.
As soon as he hit the floor, Ron continued to be dragged along, still clasping tightly to Hermione's quivering hand. In a last desperate attempt to find a hold on something, Ron reached blindly behind him and clasped onto Ginny's ankle. She crashed to the ground with a scream and in an instant was speeding along behind Ron, reaching both of her arms out over her head.
"LEAVE THE MUDBLOOD!" screeched the voice who, Harry now realized, was starting to sound suspiciously like Mrs. Black's portrait. "NO ONE HELPS A MUDBLOOD!"
Without wasting a second more, Harry sprinted after the three rapidly receding figures. He leapt for Ginny's outstretched fingers and skidded on his stomach through the doorway just as it slammed shut behind him.
A/N: Ah! Suspense! lol...
Sorry, I know that wasn't much but I'm very sick and I still have to go to soccer practice in about ten minutes.
I'm seriously thinking about crying. Right now. I wish Harry Potter was real :(