A/N: This is unbetaed. (Sorry)
Chapter 15: Sticky Business
"Yook me, Pomfee! My make pudding!" A very sticky and very happy-looking Harry was sitting on the floor in the kitchens; his face, hands, shirtfront, trousers – even his hair were all splattered with, well, Pomfrey didn't know what. An equally adorned Dobby crouched at his side. The house-elf's guilty expression was barely readable under a white powdery coating. Harry sloppily licked the large, wooden mixing spoon he was holding and smiled, offering it out to share with the Madam Pomfrey. The Nurse just narrowed her eyes as she took in the scope of the scene before her. There were empty flour and sugar canisters, molasses and honey jars, as well as bags of dried currants and brown sugar, which Harry had evidently poured into a large mixing bowl parked between his splayed legs (or poured in the general vicinity of the bowl, at least). The floor was also covered with the sticky concoction, and so Madam Pomfrey came no closer. A few other house-elves were working by the hearths on the other side of the great room. They appeared to be making a point of not knowing what was going on behind them. When Pomfrey met the gazes of one or two of them, they popped out of the kitchens at once, suddenly feeling the urge to be elsewhere.
"Precisely what is going on here, Dobby?" she asked, attempting to keep her tone even so as not to upset Harry (who had gone back to stirring the bowl and sloshing more of its contents all over himself).
"Ohhhh, Dobby is not wanting to say, Mistress Nurse Madam Pomfrey." He nervously pulled on a sugared ear.
"I imagine not," said the Nurse, gritting her teeth in effort not to yell, "but 'say' you will, Dobby. At once!" The effort failed somewhat at the last and Harry looked up in surprise. The few remaining house-elves chose this moment to take their leave as well. Pomfrey thought that was rather wise of them.
"Pomfee, no be mad. Dobby help my make dis! Dobby yike a'help Hawwy Podder!"
"Dobby is so sorry, Mistress. But Harry Potter is asking and asking Dobby for pudding." At this, Pomfrey's accusatory gaze shifted to Harry, who looked down in shame and sucked on his lower lip. This only served to distract the boy, however, as it was covered in honey and brown sugar (much like the rest of his face), and he lifted the spoon, full and dripping, to lick at more of the sweet mess.
Dobby continued, "So Dobby is telling Harry Potter that his Pomfee is saying 'No pudding before dinner,' and Mister Harry Potter is asking, 'Please, please, please,' and Dobby," and here the house elf let out a pitiful wail and fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands, "Dobby, oh, bad Dobby, is telling a lieeeee," came the muffled voice. "Dobby is soooooo sorry. Dobby is a bad, bad house-elf: saying the kitchens have no pudding and it will take too long to make, so Harry Potter will not keep asking and be getting in t-t-t-troubllllle."
As Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes and prayed for patience, Harry stopped licking his 'pudding' and looked up. Misunderstanding Dobby's concern, Harry entreated, "Dobby, no cry. My doe faster!" And Harry plunked the spoon back in the bowl and started jerking it back and forth awkwardly, sending dollops of sugary goo over the rim until Madam Pomfrey called for him to stop.
"That will be quite enough stirring, Harry. And Dobby, pull yourself together." Her tone brooked no argument. She was obeyed immediately; Harry stilled his hand and the little house-elf stood up and dabbed at his enormous, shining eyes with the corner of his sticky scarf.
He sniffled noisily and squeaked, "Dobby is better, now, Mistress."
"I'm glad to hear it," said the Nurse, though, in fact, she didn't sound particularly glad. She turned next to her sugarcoated charge, "Harry, you know better than to ask for pudding before meals. It's not fair to Dobby and you've made him upset."
Harry's lower lip quivered at this. "My sorry," he mumbled repentantly.
"Well no great harm done, as he's fine now," she said, her threatening tone daring the house-elf not to be. She pulled out her wand, vanishing the bowl and the empty canisters and sending a Scourgify at Harry.
Harry frowned at this but said nothing. He knew he had been naughty to push Dobby so, and he felt genuinely remorseful.
"However, there will be consequences for your misbehaviour, Harry. There will be no pudding for you for the rest of the week, and tonight, you will go straight to bed after dinner. I am canceling Ms. Weasley's visit."
"But Pomfee, Nee-nee was don read me 'bout Wizard Gick tonight!"
"Well she'll have to do it some other night."
"But she pomise!"
"Harry James Potter, she did not give you a wizard's oath and this not is up for discussion. You have been a very naughty boy, and naughty boys don't get to have friends over to read special stories. I won't hear another word on the matter," she added sternly, as her charge made to renew his protest.
Feelings of shame and anger whirled through Harry. He would not meet Madam Pomfrey's eyes and he did not speak again for the rest of the evening.
When Pomfrey tucked Harry into bed that night, she had to fight the urge not to coddle her charge. Harry simply had to learn to mind. As the Nurse made to leave the nursery, a soft voice stopped her.
"My sorry," whispered Harry, his voice full of remorse. "My not don do dat again." Harry turned on his side clutching his Draco Sleeve. He let out a deep sigh, tucked his thumb in his mouth, and closed his eyes. Madam Pomfrey spun around, strode back to Harry's bedside, gave him a goodnight kiss on the top of his head and left without a word.
~o~
It was a bit of a gloomy Sunday, and Harry was lying on his stomach on the carpet by the hearth looking through the latest book on magical creatures that Hagrid had given him. He was propped up on his elbows; chin resting on one hand while the other slowly turned the pages.
Madam Nesbit would highly approve, mused Pomfrey, for reading in this position helped Harry build his upper body strength. And that's how it was for the Hogwarts Nurse these days. Every single thing that Harry did was viewed through the lens of how it would benefit his progress. A large part of Harry's treatment involved him practising basic physical skills. Madam Nesbit had thus instructed the Nurse to do as little magic for Harry as possible to help encourage his motor skills to redevelop, and there was steady, if slow, progress. Again Pomfrey marveled at Harry's resilience. Her thoughts abruptly halted when she noticed Harry rubbing his scar wound absently as he looked at his book.
"Is that bothering you, Harry?" asked the Nurse, masking the concern from her voice. Harry looked up from this, mid-rub.
"Hmm? Oh. My boo-boo? No. Dat jus feel bumpy," he said, thoughtfully rubbing it again.
The misshapen tissue from where Lucius Malfoy had cut Harry was taking an unusually long time to heal. There was still a rather large scab remaining, and where bits of it had fallen away the skin was puckered and uneven. Because of the deadly nature of the original wound – and in the absence of more knowledge of how Horcruxes related to curse scars – the Healers at St. Mungo's had all thought it best to refrain from using magic on Harry's scar.
"Well you let me know if it does bother you, alright?"
"Otay, Pomfee," said Harry as he turned another page. "Pomfee?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"My doe see Ahgi 'day?"
"Yes, Harry, you may go see Hagrid today. Hagrid said he'd come by to get you after lunch." Harry looked up with a wide grin at this pronouncement.
"Ahgi eat dinner wif us?" he asked hopefully.
"We can certainly invite him and see what he says." Pomfrey chuckled softly to herself. Hagrid had refused Harry nothing in the past few weeks. She was certain tonight would be no different.
Harry just smiled at her and went back to looking at his book.
~o~
Hagrid had tried on numerous occasions to rid himself of the jarvey, but to no avail. The blasted creature simply would not leave. It behaved more like a dog (not a dog like Fang, of course – more like a proper dog) than a jarvey, but perhaps with an odd bit of kneazle mixed in. Here it was again, following him up to the castle, and Hagrid – who usually had endless patience with all manner of creatures – was beginning to crack.
"Listen t'me, Darvey," Harry's mispronunciation of 'jarvey' had become the creature's name by default, "Yeh may make Harry happy," Hagrid grumbled to the creature, "but yer makin my life mis'rable. Why can' y'jes bugger off?"
"Bugger off yourself, Pus-for-brains!" was the jarvey's rejoinder, and this was followed by a long and colourful string of insults pertaining mostly to Hagrid's 'questionable' parentage with a few remarks about his poor taste in couture thrown in for good measure.
Hagrid just sighed heavily and rolled his eyes as he trudged the last meters up to the castle. At the door he turned to the jarvey. "Look, yer not comin' in this time. Madam Pomfrey found the little present yeh left in her slipper las' week, an' she din want t' thank yeh fer it neither. If yeh don' want t'end up as trim on her new robe collar ye'd best stay far away." Hagrid swiftly closed the door behind him before the jarvey's next contemptuous tirade could begin.
However, not fifteen minutes later when he reopened the door (with Harry in tow), the creature was still ranting.
"…feet the size of pumpkins and could use an improvement in scent!"
"Darvey!" Harry cried in delight as he crawled to embrace the startled creature.
"Little stinker," returned the jarvey blandly.
Harry just laughed, saying, "I not a yiddew tinker – I a yiddew terp! 'Member?"
"All righ' you two. Let's go if we're goin," sighed Hagrid, shaking his head wearily. He scooped up Harry, who had at last released the struggling jarvey and set off down the path to his home.
~o~
The look on Madam Pomfrey's face when Hagrid returned to her chambers that afternoon carrying Harry in one arm and the jarvey under the other was beyond description. Hagrid swallowed hard and set Harry down on the sofa, raising a placating hand.
"Now, Poppy. B'fore yeh say anything, hear me out: Harry, here, he walked! Almos' half the way up, all by himself, he did."
Hagrid held his breath as Pomfrey studied the boy on the sofa. Harry looked thoroughly exhausted. His face was slightly flushed and the knees of his trousers were dusty. But also, he was looking up at her with a shy smile of pride.
Whatever admonition Pomfrey had been about to heap onto Hagrid for bringing the disgusting creature back into her home was forgotten as she rushed to Harry's side, her own face splitting with an enormous grin. Hagrid remembered to release his breath.
"Oh, Harry! Did you really?" she gushed. Harry nodded, flushing further and Pomfrey gave him a squeeze.
Harry laughed out loud crying, "My doed it myself!"
Pomfrey wiped at her eyes and patted Harry's head lovingly. "Well, this certainly calls for a celebration! Let's get you cleaned up for dinner – and we will have treacle for pudding tonight." She called out for Dobby, who readily undertook to bathe Harry while Hagrid filled Pomfrey in on all the details.
"I know how yeh detest little Darvey an all, Poppy, but it was her that done it in the end," began Hagrid. "See, Harry wanted her t'come back wi' us an I – well, erm – I sorta fibbed an said i' was too far fer her t'walk twice in one day. An Harry pops up wi', 'You carry her, Ahgi – my walk!' He was so proud a' himself." Hagrid pulled out his spotted hanky and wiped a tear from his eye. "Course, after a bit, he started to fade an took a few spills, so I tole him I'd carry em both."
"Lazy little sod," sniffed the jarvey from under the table.
"Now Darvey, mind yer P's an Q's," cautioned Hagrid pointlessly. He didn't want to push their luck as far as Madam Pomfrey's good will went. However, and to Hagrid's great surprise and relief, Poppy's good will went quite far; for when Harry came back in from his bath he was holding Dobby's little wizened hand and walking (if a bit unsteadily).
"Yook, Darvey, my doed it again!"
The jarvey remained oddly silent, as if it, too, didn't want to press upon the good will of the Hogwarts Nurse. It was a wise choice, for Pomfrey actually acquiesced to Harry's request that his pseudo pet, "Darvey," stay over.
"But just till you fall asleep. You can see it again tomorrow, after St. Mungo's."
To Harry's credit, he tried to hide his disappointment, saying, "Otay, Pomfee. Dat be nice." But his crestfallen expression belied his well-mannered reply.
Harry had begun nodding off halfway through an unprecedented allowance of a second helping of treacle, so Pomfrey wiped his face clean with a damp serviette, used a cleaning charm on his teeth and had Hagrid carry the boy to bed.
"Tum on, Darvey," Harry yawned sleepily, resting his head on Hagrid's shoulder. Hagrid tucked Harry in, but not before the jarvey jumped up and burrowed under the covers.
Madam Pomfrey barely restrained a sniff of disgust at this. Instead, she pulled her wand from her apron pocket and incanted a quiet, "Nox," as the two adults retreated from the nursery.
~o~
Bellatrix Lestrange was not a happy woman. But that was nothing new, of course. What was new, however, was that she had found herself unexpectedly faced with the opportunity to do something about it – an opportunity that came in the form of one completely helpless Harry Potter. And, as Bellatrix was more than a little insane – and crueler still than that to boot, she planned to take full advantage of that opportunity.
Her Master's defeat – at the hands of 'Ickle Hawwy Potter', a mere half-blood boy – had left Bellatrix bereft for all of about a minute. Just before the final confrontation, Bella had barely dodged a Stupefy, but had feigned being hit and dove to the ground. Unnoticed, she had transformed into her Animagus form and scampered off in time to witness a dying Greyback lie to one of the Weasley spawn , telling him that Lady Lestrange was dead.
She smirked inwardly. Her sometimes-lover had given her an invaluable gift in his death: her enemies would think themselves safe from her, and they would be very wrong. Bellatrix was delighted at the prospect. She was partial to the element of surprise – so long as it wasn't directed at her. She briefly thought to avenge Greyback's death right then and rip the Weasley's befreckled, ginger head right off his spindly body, instead of taking advantage of the werewolf's gift. But, she decided that her revenge could wait, as she didn't want to miss Potter's demise at the Dark Lord's hands.
But then the unthinkable happened. The Potter brat sent the Killing Curse at her Master! Bellatrix had almost laughed at this. She had been on the receiving end of baby Potter's last failed Unforgivable. She knew it would be ineffective, and that was her last thought before she lost consciousness.
When Bellatrix awoke, she found her wand was gone. Hearing the Mudblood girl rising, Bella quickly transfigured back into her Animagus form and moved to the cover of the underbrush to listen. She discovered, as the Weasley girl regained consciousness, that they were wandless as well. Bella followed them as they carried Potter's battered form to the half-giant's hovel and stared in disbelief as they took Potter inside. How was it possible that he yet lived, while her Master was dead? And she knew in her hard little heart that this time it was an irreversible death. Everything was ruined. She had finally made it out of Azkaban and now her future was destroyed. And. Ickle. Harry. Potter. Would. Pay.
The plan was a simple one. Keep her to her Animagus form. Get into the good graces of the half-wit half-giant, and worm her way into Potter's miserable excuse of a life. She knew that she needed a decent injury so that the infamously softhearted Hogwarts' Groundskeeper would take her in, so she bit herself – quite viciously. It was painful, of course, but to Bellatrix's way of thinking that was not necessarily a bad thing. As she had hoped, Hagrid had taken pity on her ("Poor lil' thing," he'd cooed sickeningly) and he carried her home to tend her wound.
And now, here she was, staring down at the hapless Boy Who Didn't Deserve To Live. She was barely able to contain herself at the breadth of things she wanted do to him. Granted, if she could get him off the castle grounds and all to herself , things would be so much the better …
A/N: While I find it easy-ish to suspend disbelief and overlook the issue of clothing during Animagus Transfiguration, I've wondered about wands.
Any thoughts?
Perhaps the wand becomes an extension of the witch or wizard and is somehow then enveloped into the Transfigured form…
Next up, Chapter 16: Revenge Is A Dish Best Served