Only Half-Weasley

Chapter 9

A/N: Hello! I know I promised to have this written a week and a half ago, but a few things got in the way and life took me in another direction. So, life happens :P School is starting for me at the end of the month and guess what? I'll have more time! Yes, you heard right: MORE time. How, you ask? Well, I don't know. I think time just slows down when school starts. Father time knows that you're in agony and wants you to endure it for as long as you can. Anyways, thank you so much to all who reviewed! I appreciate it so much! You guys really made my day and are truly the best ) I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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"Where are we going, Professor?" Holly asked as she followed Professor Potter down to the Entrance Hall and out the front doors. Holly pulled her cloak tighter around her as the cold wind stung her skin. It was mid-afternoon at the end of October and while she would normally be having lessons that evening, Professor Potter had sent her a note early that day requesting a meeting with her earlier in the day.

Professor Potter slowed his pace to let Holly catch up with him. "We're going down to the Quidditch Pitch," he told her. "Professor Hunt told me that you were having difficulty learning to ride a broomstick. I have to supervise the Gryffindor Quidditch team's session, so we'll kill two birds with one stone. Do you know how to play Quidditch, Holly?"

Holly shook her head and it encouraged Professor Potter to explain the rules of the game to her. By the time he was done describing everything about the game, both of them were standing in front of the Quidditch Shed. Professor Potter pulled out an old Cleansweep 7 and handed it to Holly. After a little more digging, he found a Comet 260 for himself.

Holly watched her teacher mount his broom and motioned her to the do the same. "I can't, Professor," Holly protested, "this is where I mess up."

"How do you mess up mounting your broom?" Professor Potter asked, now hovering a few inches about the ground.

"I don't know how," she admitted, looking at the broom uneasily.

Professor Potter jumped off of his broom and let it hover in midair while he stood in front of Holly. "Did you follow Madam Hunt's instructions?" he inquired.

"Hold your hand above your broom, say 'up,' " Holly recited in exasperation. To her surprise, when she said 'up,' her broom launched into her hands. She grabbed a hold of the handle as it picked her up in the air. She was now 20 feet in the air…30 feet…60 feet.

"HELP! HELP!" she screamed hysterically, grabbing the broom with her other hand.

Professor Potter jumped on his broom and raced after her. "Speed, I need speed!" he told himself. If only he had his Firebolt! All he needed to do was grab Holly before she flew any higher and take her safely to the ground. "It's going to be ok, Holly!" he called to the girl, but it was lost in her frantic screams.

Professor Potter was almost to her- eight feet, six feet, four feet…when something he saw something in the corner of his eye. Before he realized what it was, Professor Potter was hit on his left shoulder with a bludger and knocked off course. The pain coursed through his body and he gritted his teeth as he fought it. His broom shifted and pointed downward and began to head towards the ground. It took a minute before Professor Potter could regain control of himself and turn his broom around, but by that time, it was too late. A black bullet in the sky hit by one of the beaters flew through the air and hit Holly squarely in the chest. Her arms collapsed and she instinctively let go of the broom. The stadium echoed in a loud 'crunch' when the bludger broke her ribs, which was followed by a louder shriek that followed Holly as she flew across the stadium.

Professor Potter launched himself in her direction, hoping to at least catch her before she hit the ground. He was skilled on the broom, but that had been about fifteen years ago when he played Quidditch and was still in shape. The feeling of being on a broom again was strange and that made him panic more.

Leaning more on his broom, Professor Potter tried to gain more momentum. He was now feet away from Holly and the two were about to go through one of the goals at the end of the pitch. Holly saw the white poll coming at her and grabbed the white ring with her outstretched hand. She flipped over the bar while Professor Potter ducked and passed right under her. However, Holly's grip wasn't strong enough to hang on much longer and her body dropped straight towards to the ground. Professor Potter turned around and watched her body fall limp to the ground. There was no expression on her face as was falling through the air. She was no longer screaming and to Professor Potter, she had given up.

Professor Potter pulled out his wand and muttered a spell that would slow her fall. Although it wouldn't guarantee her life, it would add precious seconds that could mean the difference between life and death. Regaining his control, the teacher went into a dive, all of his Quidditch skills coming back to him. He was going to make it- he knew he could.

Getting closer, Professor Potter held out his arm to catch her Holly. He was now twenty feet above the ground and picking up speed. Just as he was bracing himself for the weight to fall into his arms, it never came. Pulling his broom back up, the teacher looked around confused. He had calculated wrong. He had missed her by inches. Holly was going to crash into the ground.

A flash of red darted passed his ear at a fast pace. Professor Potter gripped his broom tighter as the air pressure nearly knocked him off balance. He looked around and found his Quidditch players crowding in. What were they doing? Couldn't they see that there was a problem here?

"Hey, out of the way!" Professor Potter yelled as two chasers both ran into him. "This isn't a time to do drills!" However, the students were ignoring him.

A loud 'thud' reverberated through his ears and filled his heart with dread. He was almost too afraid to see if indeed the fall was fatal. He could live a hundred years without seeing another lifeless corpse.

It took more than Gryffindor courage for the professor to direct his broom towards the ground. He was the last to touch his feet on the earth and shoved his way through the mass of bodies that were gathered in a tight circle.

"Let me through," he said, pushing the students aside, bracing himself for the worst. Yet, that still didn't prepare him for the scene in front of him. Professor Potter took a step back, too shocked to get any nearer. "Thank Merlin," he muttered.

Holly was lying on the ground, unconscious, but far from dead. There were cuts and bruises, but nothing that couldn't be cured. The real miracle, though, was lying underneath her, his face to the ground. Ryan Mason, the Seeker for the team, had managed to break Holly's fall and save her life, although he didn't look in great shape, either.

Professor Potter picked up Holly and conjured an invisible stretcher for her. As the teacher was picking up the boy, Madam Hunt came marching onto the field and demanded to know what the commotion was about. It took a few minutes to explain and he felt a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach knowing that this was his fault.

"You WHAT? HARRY!" Madam Hunt cried. "You are not a flying instructor! You are not licensed to supervise children on brooms! Oh, when the Ministry finds this out, it will be your head!"

The teacher shook his head before he began his trip with the two unconscious students and outraged flying instructor to the hospital wing. There, the story was repeated, more words were exchanged, and Professor Potter finally excused himself to have a private word with Professor McGonagall. He came back a little while later with the Headmistress in tow and Madam Hunt was finally silenced.

"Thank you, Jane," Professor McGonagall said curtly when the woman tried to tell the story again for the sixth time. "That is certainly enough. I am sure Harry did not intend this kind of trouble. You may go back down to your quarters; I will take over from here."

Madam Hunt's look changed from fury to sour before she consented to leave the room. Professor McGonagall turned to Madam Hertz and was informed of the two students' conditions.

"Well, both look like they are expected to make a full recovery. They are out right now and I don't expect them to wake up for another day or two. I gave them several potions that should ease the pain. I will let you know, Headmistress, before I release them," she said.

Professor McGonagall nodded and turned to leave the room, motioning her Deputy to follow. The door quietly shut behind them and when Madam Hertz finally retreated to her office, the room was full of peace and quiet. It remained this way throughout the rest of the afternoon, sometimes disturbed by the nurse's activity, but to the two lying unconscious in the room, this could hardly matter. It was another eighteen hours before Holly graced the world once again.

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Nothing is worse than the putrid smell of rotten broccoli. It's one of those vegetables that you don't want to leave decomposing in the refrigerator because one morning you will open up the doors and before you have time to close it again the entire room will reek of rotten broccoli. So, what you want to do is throw away the broccoli so that the refrigerator doesn't smell like decaying vegetable cells. Yet, there are still people who don't understand this concept and even in the wizarding world, people do not throw out their broccoli. Hermione Weasley, no matter how brilliant she may seem, was trying to understand this problem in her kitchen.

With her hair pinned up with a clip and gloves covering both hands (her wand in one and a sponge in the other), she was ready to tackle her problem. Her seven-year-old daughter, Meredith, watched on from the table with a mixture of curiosity and scrutiny on her face.

"Why aren't you going to use magic to clean the 'fridge?" Meredith asked.

"I tried," Hermione grumbled. "It didn't work."

"But you never clean things with your hands! That's only for punishment!" the little girl exclaimed.

Hermione felt a headache growing and dropped the sponge. She spun around and returned to the book that was lying open on the counter. She flipped through the pages of her copy of Keep Your House Magically Clean! until she finally rested on 'odor problems.'

"It doesn't say anything in here," Hermione finally concluded, after reading the section carefully five times. "We're going to have to buy another book. This one is useless."

"What do you mean that book is useless?" Ron asked as he walked into the room and catching her last sentence. He took two steps towards the fridge and jumped back. "Merlin, what is that smell!"

Hermione shut the book and grabbed her purse off. "I'm going to Diagon Alley," she announced.

"Why?"

"To get another book so I can get rid of that smell," she grumbled, stuffing her wand in the pocket of her navy blue robes. "That is, unless you feel adventurous enough to figure it out yourself."

"You haven't figured out what that smell is yet?" Ron asked in surprise.

Hermione pursed her lips and glared at her husband before she grabbed some floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. "Come on, Meredith," she called to her daughter. "Daddy has work to do in the kitchen."

The little girl squealed in delight as she grabbed a hold of her mother's hand and the two jumped into the fireplace. The fire belched, roared, sparked, and then finally settled down to the crackle that it was at before. Ron opened up the book that was left on the counter and skimmed through it while buttering some bread. He hadn't even taken a bite of his bread before he decided that the situation was hopeless and went back into the living room to finish some other paper work.

On the other side of the floo network, Hermione and Meredith fell out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron. The two made their way through the crowded pub and exited through the back door where the sunlight was blinding. Diagon Alley was even busier than the pub that guarded the entrance. Hermione had to squeeze her way through the streets, holding tightly to her daughter's hand, until she finally reached the doorway to the Flourish and Blott's.

The little bell on the door jingled as the two entered and Hermione was a little taken back when she found the shop to be almost deserted. "What is going on here?" she asked the clerk at the front desk. "Where is everyone?"

The clerk shrugged his shoulders before he lifted a stack of books and set them on a table. "No idea, Miss," the young man answered, "but it's been like this all day. I reckon it has something to do with Quidditch. England won last night, you know."

"So, I heard," Hermione mumbled, having been told of England's victory more than seventeen times the previous night. This is what I get for marrying into the Weasley family, she thought to herself as she pulled Meredith past the clerk's desk and to a section at the very back labeled 'Household Cleaning.'

After deciding on Household Contaminants and How to Zap them Away, Hermione took her time walking back to the check stand and her eyes lingered on all the different types of books. Meredith, too, was looking on with interest, but after a while, the impatience of a seven-year-old began to set in again and she dragged her mother back up from to pay for the book. The two entered the chaos outside again, but instead of turning about towards the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione turned the other direction and made her way towards Weasley Wizard Wheezes. The crowd swamping Diagon Alley was ridiculous and not even England winning the Quidditch Cup could cause such a crowd. She wanted answers and her two brothers-in-law were the best place to go to get them.

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Update: Currently writing update to 'Life in the Green Eyes of a Crazy Potter.'

Btw, if anyone is interested in helping me, I would dearly love to have a beta reader :) Just send me a message and let me know!