For notes, please see chapter 1.
The Gingerbread M(an, What Are You People On?)an
Harry stared at the Horcrux, and somehow he felt it was staring back at him. At the moment it was sitting on the battered wooden crate that passed for their kitchen table, and the late afternoon light that seeped through the tent's window made the necklace glint in a strangely sinister way. It really was an ugly locket, he thought, which was probably why Umbridge with her hideous taste had liked it so much. The sloping S engraved on it looked somehow smug, and the gold had an odd, sickly green tinge to it. The longer he looked at it, the more he hated it.
"Not going to be in the next issue of Trendy Teen Witch Weekly, is it?" Hermione said, and Harry looked up to see his friend was regarding him with a wry grin as though she knew what he was thinking.
"No," Harry said, dragging his eyes away from the Horcrux. It was strange, the way it could draw his attention towards itself, almost as though it were alive. "At least I wouldn't think so, since I've never actually looked in one. Hermione, what do girls even read in those things?"
"Usually they're all articles on five hundred ways to apply eyeliner to attract boys' attention, followed by articles on why all boys are horrid," she said, putting a book back into her little beaded bag. "Occasionally they're good for an ironic laugh or two. Parvati and Lavender used to be all but addicted to them."
Harry was a little surprised to hear Hermione actually speak the dreaded L-word, and she seemed to be gauging Ron's reaction. As he was still vacantly toying with an apple core, the remains of the lunch they had gotten from stumbling into an orchard of ripe trees, he seemed to have passed whatever test she'd been giving him, and she smiled with satisfaction.
"'Mione, do you know any stories about food?" Ron asked.
"You mean other than 'Hansel and Gretel'?" she asked.
"That was the one with the giant gingerbread house with cake and candy and the apple-walnut pancakes the witch gave them," he said, sighing in bliss at the thought. "Right?"
"You remember the flavoring of the pancakes in a side note from a story I told weeks ago?" she said, staring at him. "With that sort of mental retention, why weren't you getting all Os at Hogwarts?"
"Because I'm not interested in school stuff but I am interested in pancakes and gingerbread," he said with a shrug. "Selective memory. Anyway, do you?"
"Well, technically, yes, I suppose," Hermione said, suppressing a grin rather poorly in Harry's opinion. "Actually, I know another one about gingerbread."
"Really?" Ron said, perking up.
"You're joking," Harry said. "Is there a whole subset of Muggle gingerbread fairy stories or something?"
"Well, I suppose it's arguable whether it really is a fairy tale or not, though things don't behave according to the usual rules of reality," Hermione said. "I suppose it's a bit more of a fable than a fairy tale, though the difference between the two genres is blurry."
"Uh-huh," Ron said, and Harry noted that his selective memory also seemed to includ selective hearing. "So, gingerbread?"
"Right," Hermione said. "Once upon a time…"
"Oh, good," Ron said, smiling. "I was worried that the fable-that-might-not-be-considered-a-fairy-tale would start differently than the others."
"No, this one takes place in a nonspecific past as well," Hermione said, giving him her usual look for interrupting her. Why she bothered Harry couldn't begin to guess since it was obvious she was never going to get more than a few words out of her mouth for any story before one of the broke in. "As I was saying, once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a farmer and his wife in a comfortable little home out in the countryside."
"I'm starting to hate the countryside," Ron said at once. "If I ever do get out of this bloody tent, I'm taking a flat in town over the busiest spot I can find. Maybe Fred and George will let me kip for a while on the third floor of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. They've got a posh little place up there now."
"I rather like the country myself," Hermione said, glancing out the window at the sunset, "though not in a ramshackle tent in a different spot every night for months at a time."
"Okay, yeah, well, nature has its charms I guess," Ron said, quickly amending his choice of future home. "Anyway, what are the farmers' names?"
"They don't have any in this story," Hermione said.
"Seems like that was a pretty common problem during once upon a time," Harry said. "Must have gotten confusing."
"Yeah, we can't have that," Ron said. "Let's see. They're farmers, so I'll call them… Mr. and Mrs. Cooper."
"Cooper?" Hermione said, raising an eyebrow. "But that doesn't have anything to do with farming. Coopers make barrels."
"S'right," Ron said, smiling broadly. "I suppose I could have called them Mr. and Mrs. Farmer, but what's the fun in that? I like to be unpredictable once in a while, I do."
Harry laughed, but Hermione looked at Ron as though he were on verge of losing his marbles.
"All right then," she said in an overly calm voice. "The two of them had no children."
"Well, that's a bit sad," Ron said. "Wait, are they going to try to do something stupid to get a kid now?"
"No, actually," Hermione said. "And the story also states that they're quite elderly, so I was never really sure why that detail was put into the telling, but it always is. In any case, the wife was in the kitchen, and she had just finished making a gingerbread man decorated with icing sugar and raisins for his eyes, the buttons on his waistcoat, and his hair, and a peppermint drop for a mouth."
"Now I'm even getting hungry," Harry said. He could very nearly smell the heavenly aroma of gingerbread coming from the oven.
"Indeed, so was the farmer's wife, and when she was quite done with the last of the decorations, she looked at the gingerbread man and said, 'Oh, you look so delicious that I could just eat you up!'" Hermione said, putting on an old woman's crackling voice, and, oddly, an American Southern accent.
"Huh?" Ron said, frowning.
"I said, 'Oh, you look so delicious—,'" Hermione began in the same voice, but Ron waved at her stop. "What's wrong?"
"What's up with the accent?" Ron asked.
"Oh, this story comes from America, though there are much older variants of it that trace their roots back to England, Ireland, Wales, and even Russia. I just thought it might be fun to use the accent for her," Hermione said, looking vaguely embarrassed.
"Well, skip that bit, all right? I can't understand a word they say at the best of times," Ron said. "That and they say y'all a lot. It's just a weird sounding word. Y'all."
"If you don't like it, then fine, I won't do it," Hermione said, sounding offended over Ron's dismissal of her accent skills.
"Also, why's she talking to a gingerbread man?" Harry asked, trying to distract her.
"I suppose she might have been a bit lonely. Perhaps that's why the story notes she had no children," said Hermione.
"Maybe. Or maybe she's a bit mad. It's not like the gingerbread is going to talk back to her," Ron said.
"Oh, but it did!" Hermione said.
"Wait, what?" Harry and Ron both said.
"Yes, the gingerbread man jumped up from the baking sheet and began to run around the kitchen, laughing and saying, 'No, no, I won't be eaten!'" Hermione said.
"That's flat out creepy, that is," Ron said, shuddering. "Food should not talk back to you. Well, okay, Ice Mice chatter at you and Chocolate Frogs croak and I suppose there are a few other sweets that do something of the sort, but on the whole, I like my food to sit there quietly and not protest being eaten."
"Yeah, I think I'd feel guilty about that," Harry said.
"The little old woman, though she was very surprised—" Hermione began.
"Or hallucinating," Ron suggested.
"No, you'll see it's not just her," Hermione said. "The old woman leapt up and began to chase the gingerbread man in circles around the kitchen table, but she couldn't catch him, and he ran out the door, singing, 'Run, run, as fast as you can! You can't catch me! I'm the gingerbread man!'" Hermione sang in what Harry thought was really a rather catchy little tune.
"Now he's just rubbing it in," Ron said. "So where does a gingerbread man on the lam go?"
"He ran out to the farmyard, and there was the little old man, chopping wood. The little old man said, 'Oh, I am so hungry! Come here, gingerbread man, I want to eat you!'" Hermione said.
"No reaction at all to the fact that a gingerbread man has gained the power to walk and apparently talk and compose music?" Ron said.
"No, but it does prove that the old woman wasn't hallucinating since he saw the same thing," Hermione said.
"Maybe," Ron said, "or maybe there's something in the water. By the way, it's not a great idea to meet a sentient creature and immediately declare your intention of eating it. That just usually doesn't go down well."
"And it didn't in this case either," Hermione said, "for the gingerbread man said, 'I've run away from a little old woman, and I'll run away from you, I will!"
"Well, he has a pretty good self-preservation instinct going for him," Ron said.
"Along with some fairly high self-esteem," Harry agreed.
"Then the gingerbread man sang again, 'Run, run, as fast as you can, you can't catch me! I'm the gingerbread man!'" Hermione said. "Soon, the little old man was chasing the gingerbread man around the chopping block, and his wife, who had finally caught up to the errant biscuit, joined in the chase, but neither could catch the gingerbread man. He ran away laughing."
"'Errant biscuit' really isn't a phrase you hear all that often," Ron remarked, giving Hermione an amused look.
"Yeah, and also that's one fast little gingerbread man," Harry said.
"Or possibly one very slow old woman," Ron said. "It took her a whole verse and more for her to go from the kitchen to the chopping block."
"You know, that's a good point," Hermione said, squinting a bit into the middle distance. "Logically, the chopping block where the old man was working would have been fairly close to the kitchen in order to facilitate easy hauling of kindling and logs to the fireplace and stove, both of which would have undoubtedly been wood-fueled during the time period. Assuming a slight gap of space to allow for safety concerns over using an ax near a possibly blind doorway as well as avoiding tracking in woodchips in the dooryard, it's reasonable to assume that the old man wouldn't be more than perhaps fifteen to twenty paces at most from the entrance to the kitchen. If the old woman were to have followed directly behind the gingerbread man, she really should have arrived there much more quickly than she does, allowing for the biscuit's explanation and song. It's a bit of a plot hole. Oh, now that's going to bother me."
Harry stared at her and wondered just how bored Hermione was becoming on their seemingly endless trek if she was turning a fairy tale into essentially a math equation. Then again, with her brain, the tedium really must be particularly painful.
"Shoes," Ron said suddenly.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Maybe she was in her stocking feet in the kitchen, and she stopped to put on her shoes before going out the door since there were likely splinters about from the wood being split," Ron said. "That'd slow her down."
Harry blinked slowly.
"That is a completely logical reason for falling behind in a race to catch up with escaping baked goods," Hermione said. "I'm actually quite impressed."
"Same here," Harry said. "Well done!"
Harry thought Ron looked about as pleased with himself as a human being could without actually starting to levitate from a swelled head, but then Ron really had earned it.
"At any rate, the gingerbread man ran away through the barn and out into the fields where a group of mowers were working," Hermione said.
"Mowers?" Ron asked. "What's a mower?"
"Oh, they're people who chop down the wheat or rye or barley or whatever it is the farmer is growing, usually using something that looks a big knife on a stick," Hermione said.
"Like the Grim Reaper?" Harry asked.
"Precisely," Hermione said. "That particular image is meant to highlight the Grim Reaper's role as harvester of souls, hence the mowing tool."
"So the gingerbread man is running for his life into a field full of armed Grim Reapers?" Ron asked, looking a little disturbed.
"No, just regular Muggles," Hermione said.
"Carrying big, sharp knives," Harry pointed out.
"Well, when you put it that way, you do have a point," Hermione admitted. "As he came nearer, the mowers all said in chorus, 'Oh, we are so hungry! Come here, little gingerbread man, and let us eat you!'"
"All of them?" Ron said. "How big is this biscuit? Actual human size?"
"No," Hermione said, "usually the illustrations show him as maybe a bit below average knee height, so a good-sized biscuit, but not enormous."
"And how many mowers are there?" Ron asked.
"Oh, maybe seven or eight," Hermione said with a shrug.
"Even if they do catch him, they aren't going to get much of a snack," Harry said.
"No, but once again, the gingerbread boy said, 'I've run away from a little old woman, I've run away from a little old man, and I can run away from you, I can!'"
"Yep, good self-confidence," Ron said. "Then did he sing?"
"Certainly," Hermione said, nodding. "'Run, run, as fast as you can. You can't catch me! I'm the gingerbread man!' Then the mowers, the old man, and the old woman chased him up and down the rows of crops, but none of them could catch him, and he ran away laughing."
"Wait, the old man and woman are still trying to get him?" Ron said.
"And here I thought you'd mention that the mowers had no reaction to the running, singing, and apparently poetic gingerbread man," Harry said.
"Nah, if the first two don't bother to make a big deal of it, then I suppose the rest of them won't either," Ron said. "Maybe this happens all the time in their strange little world. But I think we're back to the gingerbread man being rather freakishly fast again, aren't we?"
"Possibly," Hermione said. "As you've both pointed out, there really isn't a precedent for the typical maximum velocity of living biscuits, so it's probably best not to dissect that part too closely."
"Okay. I'm sure I can find something else to obsess about in this story," Ron said magnanimously, and Hermione outright giggled. Harry restrained himself from rolling his eyes.
"After the gingerbread man did indeed outrun the mowers along with the farmer and his wife, he came to a group of threshers," Hermione said.
"Fine, I'll ask the obvious question this time," Harry said. "What are threshers?"
"Oh, they've generally all been replaced today by machines, as have mowers really, but they used to separate the seeds out of wheat or other crops, usually by hitting the stalks against the floor with a big stick," Hermione said.
"Well, at least he didn't run to a group of Muggles who were holding giant knives again, although big sticks really aren't much better," Ron said. "Why exactly are they beating up wheat, by the by?"
"It removes the inedible chaff from the seed," Hermione explained. "You have to get rid of the chaff before you can grind wheat into flour, for example."
"So this story takes place in autumn, then," Ron said, "what with the mowers and the threshers and all."
"Not necessarily," Hermione said. "Some kinds of wheat ripen earlier or later depending upon the variety. Winter wheat actually ripens in about June, but summer wheat is usually ready in the mid to late summer. Also, it's never actually mentioned that the farmer grows wheat specifically. Given that this story has its roots in the United States, rye or corn along with barley are all possibilities. Rye would tend more towards autumn, along with corn, both the sweet and dry varieties, while barley is usually a spring crop again. I wouldn't think it would be spelt or oats, both of which would ripen more towards spring again usually, depending on climate."
"Uh-huh," Ron said. "Exactly. I definitely needed to know that. I'm just going to picture autumn if that's okay with you."
"Perfectly," Hermione said. "We'll simply assume they grow rye then."
"I'm glad that's settled," said Harry. "So, what happened to the gingerbread man?"
"As he approached the threshers, they all cried out, 'Oh, we are so hungry! Come here, little gingerbread man, and let us eat you!'" Hermione said in a truly appalling accent she seemed to have picked up from a Western in spite of Ron's earlier protests.
"Not terribly original dialogue in this," Ron said.
"Well, this is a repetitive story that builds each time through. Go on and take a guess what the gingerbread man might say," Hermione said.
"Stick it in your ear, because I'm out of here?" Ron said.
Harry laughed out loud while Hermione rubbed her forehead in frustration.
"Your mum must have had a horrid time telling you bedtime stories as a child," Hermione said with a look of pity.
"Not really," Ron replied. "After Fred and George, I was pretty easy. At least I never accidentally-on-purpose set the book on fire if it got too boring."
"When you put it that way, you have a point," Hermione said with an expression of mild horror. "What the gingerbread man actually said was 'I've run away from the mowers, I've run away from a little old man, I've run away from a little old woman, and I can run away from you, I can!' Then he sang his little song, 'Run, run, as fast as you can. You can't catch me! I'm the gingerbread man!'"
"The poem at least sort works now with every other line rhyming," Ron said.
"Yes, the a-b-c-b rhyme pattern does feel more regular," Hermione said.
"The what?" Ron said.
"Oh, it's a way of showing what lines rhyme in poetry. You start by giving the letter 'a' to the first line, and any other line in the poem that rhymes with that line gets an 'a' as well. If the next line doesn't rhyme, it gets a 'b,' and so does anything else that rhymes with that line, on down through the alphabet. In a Shakespearean sonnet, for example, the rhyme pattern is a-b-a-b-c-d-c-d-e-f-e-f-g-g, so every other line rhymes except for the last two, which form their own couplet," Hermione said. "It's very easy."
"Yeah," Ron said, giving Harry a look that plainly screamed that he was drowning. "Easy. So, the gingerbread man runs away again?"
"Precisely, outrunning the threshers, the mowers, the old man, and the old woman, all of whom trailed behind him as he sped off," Hermione said.
"It's turning into a parade at this point," Harry said.
"A bit, yes," Hermione said, nodding. "Next, the gingerbread man came across a cow in a meadow, and the cow said, 'Oh, I am so hungry!'"
"So eat the grass! You're a cow standing in the middle of a meadow, for Merlin's sake," Ron said.
"You do realize you interrupted me," Hermione said icily.
"Hermione, when don't I in these things?" Ron said.
She sighed heavily and said, "All right, fair point, but still, the cow hadn't finished speaking yet."
"Well, I can honestly say I've never interrupted a talking cow before, so that's new," Ron said. "I'm guessing that the cow said something like 'Come here, little gingerbread man, and let me eat you,' yeah?"
"Congratulations, you've gotten the pattern of the story down cold," Hermione said, though Harry noted her tone seemed a bit more annoyed than impressed, not that Ron appeared to notice. "It's what's sometimes called a cumulative story or a chain tale."
"Your lot do this a lot, do you?" Ron said.
"Oh, there's a fair few, like 'The Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly,'" Hermione said. "In that one, after swallowing the fly, the woman keeps swallowing larger and larger animals to try to catch the other ones inside her: a spider, a bird, a cat, a dog, a pig, a goat, a cow, all the way up to a horse, which is when she basically explodes."
"Charming," Ron said, though Harry noticed Ron had looked a bit ill ever since Hermione had mentioned swallowing a spider. "So I'm also going to guess that the gingerbread man said 'I've run away from the threshers, I've run away from the mowers, I've run away from a little old man, and I've run away from a little old woman, and I can run away from you, I can!' How close am I?"
Hermione looked significantly more impressed as she nodded. "Yes, that is indeed precisely what he said, and the cow took off running after the gingerbread man, pursued by the threshers, the mowers, the old man, and the old woman, but once again he left them all behind as he ran away laughing."
"This is getting to be less of a parade and more of a very bizarre marathon," Harry said.
"What's a marathon?" Ron asked.
"A race Muggles run," Harry said. "A really long one."
"Yes, just over twenty-six miles," Hermione said.
"Why would someone do that on purpose?" Ron asked, looking completely confused.
"I suppose to say you've done it," Hermione said with a shrug. "It's named in memory of a Greek city named Marathon that won a battle, and a runner had to run over twenty-six miles to get to Athens to report the result."
"That's fairly impressive," Ron said.
"Then he dropped down dead from exhaustion," Hermione added.
"That's significantly less impressive," Ron said. "And you people decided to do the same thing that killed this bloke why exactly?"
"Who knows?" Hermione said. "You're right. It is a bit odd."
"You realize I'm now picturing the gingerbread man in a little icing runner's outfit, right?" Harry said.
Hermione giggled again at that, and Harry was much less annoyed this time. It really was nice to hear laughter. Ron smiled too.
"Okay, so he outran the cow. Now what?" Ron asked.
"Oh, next he found a pig," Hermione said.
"Well, they do eat anything, so that at least is plausible," Ron said. "So what happened?"
"The pig said, 'Oh, I'm so hungry. Come here, little gingerbread man, and let me eat you!'" Hermione said, giving the pig a grunty voice that weirdly reminded Harry of Goyle, not that he ever spoke much.
"I am shocked and stunned by this development," Ron said flatly. "And the gingerbread man replied?"
"'I've run away from a cow, I've run away from the threshers, I've run away from the mowers, I've run away from a little old man, I've run away from a little old woman, and I can run away from you, I can!' Precisely what you'd expect," Hermione said.
"Uh huh. The pig didn't catch the little fellow, did he?" Ron asked.
"No, the pig, the cow, the threshers, the mowers, the old man, and the old woman all chased him, but they couldn't catch him while he sang 'Run, run, as fast as you can! You can't catch me! I'm the gingerbread man!" Hermione said.
"Speaking of that, I'm getting worried about the Coopers," Ron said, frowning. "That's an awful lot of running for that old couple to be doing."
"They must have been quite sprightly for their age," Hermione said. "The gingerbread man ran on until he came to a river, and a fox was sitting beside it."
"Golly, I wonder what could happen here," Ron said. "Would the fox happen to be hungry by any chance and also have a sudden craving for gingerbread?"
"No, actually," Hermione said.
"No?" Ron and Harry said together.
"No," Hermione repeated. "The gingerbread man made that assumption too, and he sang out, 'I've run away from a pig, I've run away from a cow, I've run away from the threshers, I've run away from the mowers, I've run away from a little old man, and I've run away from a little old woman, and I can run away from you, I can!'"
"Sow," Ron said.
"I beg your pardon, what did you just call me?" Hermione said, looking furious. Harry instinctively reached for his wand and a protective sofa cushion.
"No, no, not you!" Ron said immediately. "The poem the gingerbread man is making up. The other sets of people chasing him rhyme, or sort of rhyme, except the last one: threshers and mowers, man and woman and can, and then there's cow and . . . pig. It louses up the pattern, but sow would work just fine."
Hermione gave him an appraising look.
"You know, that's true. Even though technically threshers and mowers is only a syllabic rhyme, which means the ending syllable is identical but not stressed, and man and woman are more of an eye rhyme or visual rhyme since the vowel sounds look the same but sound a bit different, for all intents and purposes, the little poem he recites does have a definite rhyme scheme until this point, and it would make perfect sense to use the word 'sow' here. It fits in terms of the animal and the pattern, but I've never seen it used in the story," Hermione said, her eyes getting the curious, faraway look they took on whenever she was pondering something that neither Harry nor Ron would understand half of. "I wonder if it's meant to signal the change in the story by abruptly changing the gingerbread man's form of communication."
"Yes, that, exactly that," Ron said. "So what does the fox say?"
Harry shuddered for some reason, but as he couldn't think of a reason why, he put it up to the cold draughts that often blew through the tent.
"The fox said he wasn't the least bit hungry and didn't enjoy gingerbread even if he had been," Hermione said.
"Huh. Okay, that really is a break from the usual pattern," Ron said.
"No kidding. But there's still a river there, right, with the threshers and mowers and old couple and cow and pig—" Harry began.
"Sow," Ron corrected him.
"All right, and the sow, if you like, coming after him," Harry said.
"You've spotted his trouble," Hermione said, "and so had the fox, for he said, 'With all of those people and animals pursuing you, you will need to cross the river, and I don't think gingerbread will hold together well in water. I was just going to cross the river myself. If you like, you may jump on my back, and I will take you to the other bank.'"
"Uh-huh," Ron said. "That's not even the slightest bit suspicious."
"It's worth remembering that the gingerbread man really was born only that morning, so to speak, so he wasn't all that familiar with the ways of the world, nor of the stereotype of foxes being particularly cunning, which really is a remarkably widespread trope," Hermione said. "In addition, the crowd of angry pursuers were now close enough that he could hear them coming, so the gingerbread man said he was much obliged to the fox and jumped on his back. The fox, for his part, jumped into the water and began to paddle across."
"Well, I guess if I were a gingerbread man and I had a half-starved pack of nutters after me, I might have made the same choice," Ron admitted. "I sort of like him at this point."
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "He's a bit twee, but he's growing on me."
"A little ways across the river, the fox said to the gingerbread man, 'The water is growing deeper. It would be safer if you jumped onto my shoulders,'" Hermione said, and Harry noticed she seemed to be looking the smallest bit guilty, but he said nothing. "So the gingerbread man hopped up onto the fox's shoulders."
"Okay, I wasn't even aware a fox had shoulders, but so far he's dry, right?" Ron said.
"Yes, and now I'm wondering about that too. Is there an actual clavicle bone or at least a scapula at that point in a fox's skeleton, or is that term used only in bipedal animals with limbs that could be called arms? Now I'm curious," Hermione said, looking rather put out, and Harry realized she probably hadn't bothered to bring many books on nonmagical animals on their trip so she wouldn't be able to research the problem.
"For this story, we'll assume have shoulders," Harry said, hoping to placate her
"Yeah, maybe ask Seamus about it the next time you see him since that's his Patronus," Ron said. "Blimey, now I can only imagine the fox with an Irish accent."
Harry wondered for a second where Seamus would be now: back at Hogwarts, he supposed, but what would that even be like with things the way they now stood? Not easy, of that he was certain. He was just starting to slip back into the grey malaise he had felt earlier while staring at the Horcrux when to his disbelief he noticed Hermione had pulled out her little beaded bag.
"I know it's in here somewhere," Hermione said, and seconds later she produced a book entitled Field Wildlife of Great Britain and Ireland.
"Seriously, woman, was there nothing you didn't pack?" Ron said.
"Double negative, and of course there was," Hermione said, running her finger across a diagram that didn't appear to want to hold still. "I left all Lockhart's books back at the Burrow. Ah-ha! Yes, there's no clavicle, but there is a scapula!"
"Great, glad that's settled," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "I'll be able to sleep well tonight."
"Me too," Hermione said with a sigh and without the least trace of sarcasm.
"Can we get back to the gingerbread boy and his perilous brush with possible dampness?" Ron asked.
"Oh, right," Hermione said, snapping the book shut and slipping it carefully into the piles of what Harry now decided were most likely copies every book on the face of the planet, minus Lockhart's. "Yes, the gingerbread boy was on the fox's shoulders, and after a few more strokes, the fox said to the gingerbread boy, 'The water is growing deeper. It would be safer if you jumped onto my head.'"
"I'm sensing another pattern developing here," Harry said.
"You're not wrong," Hermione said. "In some versions, he starts on the tail, then moves to the fox's rump, then back, then shoulders, then head, but that always seemed like a bit of overkill to me."
"Just a touch," Ron said. "So good old Gingy jumps up on the fox's head, then what?"
"The fox was at the very deepest part of the river now," Hermione said.
"How wide is this river anyway?" Ron asked suddenly.
"Does it really matter?" Hermione said.
"Considering the fox and the gingerbread man have several miniature conversations while crossing it, it seems pretty enormous," Ron said.
"Well, perhaps it's the Mississippi," Hermione said with a shrug. "It's a broad river. That's clear enough."
"And are the old couple and the grim reapers and the threshers and the cow and the sow pursuing them in boats or anything?" Ron asked.
"You think there's a cow and a pig rowing a boat?" Hermione said, looking at him incredulously.
"Bakery products can talk in this thing," Ron said. "It's not so far outside the range of possibility, is it?"
"When you put it that way, you do have a point," Hermione said. "I suppose if you want to imagine them being pursued by a small flotilla of scavenged vessels filled with all the other people and creatures chasing the gingerbread man, you have leave to do so."
"I thank you," Ron said, bowing, then frowned. "In my head, the cow is paddling a washtub with a Beater's club."
"Maybe you've been out in the wilderness a bit too long," Harry said, laughing.
"Haven't we all, mate," Ron said, suddenly looking tired. "Haven't we all."
"Well, um, the gingerbread man was riding on the fox's head," Hermione said quickly, and Harry knew she was hoping to distract them all again, "when once more the fox said to the gingerbread man, 'The water is growing deeper. It would be safer if you jumped onto my snout.'"
"And he did?" Harry asked.
"He did," Hermione said, "but that was a mistake, for no sooner had he stepped onto the fox's snout than the fox opened his mouth and ate him up as the gingerbread boy called out, 'I'm a quarter gone! I'm half gone! I'm three-quarters gone! I'm all gone!'"
"He took a mathematical inventory of how much of him was gone while he was being eaten?" Ron said, grimacing. "That's both bizarre and a little disturbing. I mean, I'm sort of still in shock that the gingerbread man is dead, but to actually keep talking while a fox is gnawing on him?"
"Yeah, and exactly how could he say the 'I'm all gone!' bit?" Harry asked. "If he were really gone, wouldn't his head be, you know, in the fox's mouth being chewed?"
"Again, as Ron so astutely pointed out, the main character is a talking biscuit," Hermione said. "That he's talking at all should really be more of a problem than how he can talk while going through the early stages of digestion."
"Is that the end of the story?" Ron asked.
"Usually it ends with a statement that the gingerbread man got eaten up because after all, that's what gingerbread men are for," Hermione said.
"Uh-huh," Ron said, nodding. "Fine. Well, you've done the impossible with that one, Hermione."
"Oh?" she said.
"Yeah," Ron said. "That completely took away my appetite. I keep thinking of food I want, and then it immediately stands up and starts talking in my imagination. Forget being a vegetarian, I'm paranoid about eating apples and aubergines at this point."
"I'm quite certain it's a temporary condition," Hermione said with a grin.
"Yeah," Ron said ruffling his hair. "I suppose you're right. I'm sure I'll want breakfast in the morning. What's that going to be again?"
"A punch in the nose if you don't look out," Hermione said. "You know we haven't anything left. We'll just have to scavenge again"
Harry sighed and added, "Well, maybe we'll be in luck and run across a gingerbread man fleeing from a pack of farmhands and talking animals tomorrow morning."
"Think I might prefer to let that one pass, actually," Ron said, then he paused, drawing his eyebrows together into a frown. "No, you're right. It was temporary. I'd eat it."
All three of them laughed as they started to get ready for bed. The Horcrux still sat on the table, seeming almost to sulk over its inability to vanquish their spirits.
