"Well, that could have gone a lot better," Ron said gloomily as he came through the tent.
Harry, who had stayed at their camp today with a slight cold while Ron and Hermione went to check the public library in a small town in east Wales for historical incidents relating to a Horcrux wreaking havoc on the population, looked up at Ron and paused quite a while before he trusted himself to open his mouth.
"Why are you covered head to toe in dried mud?" Harry said, trying to sound rational and losing the battle. Normally he would have just made a joke about the state he was in, but Ron had been so touchy for the last several days that he thought it would be a bad idea.
Ron blinked, and Harry realized that literally the only bits of him not plastered in mud were his eyeballs. Even his red hair appeared to be a nondescript shade of brown from the amount of mud caking it. Ron shrugged and clumps of the stuff fell to the tent floor.
"Ask Hermione. She's the stupid little do-gooder," he said bitterly before flopping onto the nearest chair. Even Harry winced at what Ron was undoubtedly doing to the upholstery.
"Ehm, dare I ask where she is?" Harry asked gingerly.
"Damned if I know. Last I saw of her she was chasing some ridiculously runty excuse for a dog around a copse of pine trees next to the river," Ron said with grunt.
"And this would be the river you fell into?" Harry asked.
"Yep," Ron said. "I should probably get this stuff off me now that I'm back in the tent and can do magic properly without observation and all that rot, but I'm too tired to flick a wand at the moment. Besides, let her see exactly what damaged she's done when she walks in the door."
Harry had secretly hoped that Ron and Hermione would use the opportunity of being alone together today to finally work out whatever it was their relationship was, and possibly end the seemingly endless tension mounting between them. He wasn't sure whether he wanted them to kiss or scream at each other, but if it made the rest of their hunt less likely to result in an explosion from either or both of them, he was all in favor of it. Unfortunately, it didn't look like his plan had worked. Harry was just about to ask whether they'd been able to scrounge something for dinner when the door opened again and in walked Hermione looking perfectly normal.
"Oh, dear, you really did take a header into the river, didn't you," Hermione said as she took in Ron's frankly alarming appearance.
"Noticed, did you?" he said, folding his arms. A wad of mud fell from one of his shirtsleeves.
"Of course I noticed. I was the one who got you out of the river, wasn't I? But I had to get Pickles home before I could come back here," she said, and Harry noticed she too was doing her utmost to keep calm around Ron. For example, she hadn't yet mentioned the chair's upholstery, and Harry was silently betting she couldn't make it through another five minutes without it.
"Pickles?" Harry asked.
"The sweetest little puppy," Hermione said.
"An ugly mutt with a face like a cross between Umbridge's and Neville's toad," Ron said. "And he tried to bite me into the bargain!"
"He did not!" Hermione said defensively. "I admit he snapped at you, but then you called him, and I quote, 'a mangy, flea-ridden offense to all canines everywhere.'"
"It's not like he knew what I was saying," Ron shot back.
"Exactly how do you know that? Besides, it's less what you say than the tone you say it in," Hermione said, "and your tone was deeply insulting."
"So was what he did to my shoe!" Ron yelled, and Harry suddenly realized what he'd been smelling since Ron walked in.
"Okay, can someone just explain to me what happened here?" Harry asked.
"We went to the library, but neither of us could deduce any pattern of bizarre rage-inspired incidents in the surrounding area's newspaper morgues, so we were leaving to come back to the tent," Hermione explained. "The polyjuice potion was still going strong, so we were disguised very well. Then I saw a tiny dog who was being terrorised by a group of the most horrid little boys."
"Most likely the dog was terrorising them instead," Ron grumbled loudly. "I'd bet he started it."
"Ron, there is no excuse for five boys all hitting a puppy with sticks and rocks," Hermione said, setting her jaw angrily.
"Wait, what? I didn't see that bit," Ron said, looking genuinely shocked. "How did I miss that?"
"Most likely because that rather pretty girl with the skirt that barely covered her backside had just passed us and nearly given you whiplash," Hermione said coldly.
"Oh, yeah. I do remember her," Ron said, then whispered to Harry. "Nice bum on that one like you wouldn't believe. Can't really be blamed."
Harry rolled his eyes but Hermione continued on as if she hadn't heard Ron's last remark, though he was pretty sure she had.
"So I ran after them, yelling that I'd call the police if they didn't leave the dog alone, and like most little hellions confronted with the possibility of an authority figure, they took to their heels and scattered," Hermione said.
"Okay, but how did Ron wind up looking like something out of a bad science fiction movie?" Harry asked.
"The dog took off like a shot. I probably scared him even more by shouting at them, and I was afraid either the boys would find him again or he'd run into a roadway, so I followed him and Ron came along as well," Hermione said. "He did lead us a merry chase, and at one point Ron made a dive for him, missed his mark, and tumbled top over teakettle into a rather muddy riverbank."
"At which point the dog just randomly jumped into Hermione's arms without a bit of fuss whatsoever," Ron said. "Then I got out of the mud."
"With a bit of help," Hermione added. "I was able to do a touch of wandless, nonverbal magic to give you a hand."
"Was that what that was?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow and having yet more flakes of dried mud hit the floor. "I thought a fish was trying to jump into my trousers."
"Yes, well, it was a rather complicated spell to try to pull off while carrying a wiggly puppy, so my aim might have been off," Hermione said, blushing. "I am glad you're not hurt, of course."
Ron sighed but looked significantly less angry. At least Harry thought he did; he couldn't quite be sure with all the mud.
"So, how did you find out his name is Pickles?" Harry asked.
"He was wearing a collar and license," Hermione said, "and as I still had time before the potion wore off, I took him back to his mistress a few streets over. Apparently he'd bolted through a little hole in the bottom of her fence."
"Wasn't that a bit risky? What if you'd stayed too long and she'd realized your face was changing," Ron said.
"No, it wasn't, considering the elderly lady happened to be blind," Hermione said, and Ron shrank a bit.
"Oh," he said. "Well, I guess you did a good thing, not that I can see the use of it really."
"What do you mean by 'use'?" Hermione asked.
"Well, you saved the dog from the mean kids, which is all well and good like I said, but it's not like saving old Piccadilly-"
"Pickles," Hermione immediately correct him.
"Whatever, is going to be of any use on the Horcrux hunt," Ron said.
"Probably not," Hermione admitted, then added, "but then again, who knows?"
"Am I sensing a story?" Harry asked.
"You might be, and a very old one at that," Hermione said.
"Oh, good," Ron said. "Just what we need: more mental stuff. Give me half a moment first to stop looking like a dirt road after a rainstorm, yeah?"
"Just a second," Hermione said, pulling her wand out of a pocket in her coat. "Scourgify!"
Even for someone like Harry who was now mostly used to magic, it was a little disorienting how quickly Hermione had been able to turn Ron back into something resembling a human being again.
"That's better," Ron said, settling more comfortably into his chair. "Now then, about that story?"
"It was first told by a Greek man named Aesop, well, we think he was Greek, but he might actually have been from a number of other places as well," Hermione said.
"Was there a B Sop?" Ron asked with a completely straight face, and even Harry wasn't quite sure whether he was joking.
Hermione, however, kicked his now clean boot with her foot and rolled her eyes before continuing.
"Aesop, if he did really exist and wasn't just an amalgamation of lots of different people, and I think he probably was a real person, liked to tell stories about talking animals," Hermione explained.
"So no actual magic," Ron said.
"Not as such, no," Hermione said.
"Well, talking animals is always good for a bit of a laugh," Ron said to Harry. "Okay, so what happens in this story that relates to ickle Petunia?"
"Pickles," Harry corrected immediately. "Petunia is my aunt. Let's not bring her into this."
"Oh," Ron said. "I thought I'd heard that name somewhere before."
"I'm not sure I blame her for being unpleasant with a name like Petunia," Hermione said with a shudder.
"Why's it so much worse than, say, Lily or Heather or Daisy or some other plant name?" Ron asked, and Harry noted he very carefully and wisely refrained from mentioning Lavender in that list.
"It just sounds odd, at least from a Muggle perspective," Hermione said. "Some plants and flowers are fine for naming people, like the ones you mentioned or Iris or Rose, but naming your child Rhododendron or Asphodel or Begonia or Petunia is fairly bizarre."
"I suppose," Ron said. "Still, no excuse for her to be a prat to Harry."
"No, it isn't," Hermione said, then paused for a second before continuing. "I've always rather liked the name Rose myself."
Ron snorted derisively.
"Really? And do you have a name you prefer, by chance?" Hermione asked, and Harry had to admit Ron had just bollocksed up the chance Hermione had just handed him rather spectacularly.
"Well, while the charms of my Uncle Jklngszkrtpbt's name are obvious, I rather like Coriolanus," Ron said firmly.
"Coriolanus?" Hermione said, looking slightly revolted. "From Shakespeare?"
"No, from this bloke who used to have a shop in Diagon Alley and sold the most magnificent cottage pies I've ever tasted. Even better than Mum's," Ron said rapturously, then added with a reflexive glance over his shoulder, "um, but don't tell her I said that, yeah?"
Hermione just stared at him for a full minute, then shook her head as though to clear it and went on as if nothing had happened. Harry was betting that was her way of clinging to sanity at these moments.
"Well, once upon a time, long ago," Hermione began.
"Wait, since he's from so long ago, is this Aesop bloke the one who actually came up with that starter?" Ron asked, looking excited.
"It's possible, but I doubt it," Hermione said. "I'm not sure how it would translate from ancient Greek, but that's more of a modern rendition of it."
"But the fellow himself actually is from once upon a time a long time ago," Ron pointed out.
"Well, yes, I suppose Aesop is," Hermione said.
"So 'once upon a time a long time ago' was created by someone once upon a time a long time ago," Ron said, crossing his arms and nodding with pride at his deduction.
Hermione bit her lip and squinted.
"Good Merlin, it's like looking at an Escher print," Hermione said.
"A what?" Ron asked.
"Oh, he was a Muggle artist who bent all the laws of proportion and perspective in his paintings so none of them actually make sense but somehow still look like they do," Hermione said.
"Oh, him. M.C. Escher," Ron said. "Yeah, I've heard of him."
"You have?" Harry asked, more than a little surprised.
"Sure. He was a wizard," Ron said.
"No, he wasn't… was he?" Hermione said, seeming to consider this.
"Oh yeah," Ron said. "How else do you think he got his paintings to do all that stuff? If you look really fast out of the corner of your eye, sometimes the little fish and stick people and things will wave at you. Oh, and this crystal ball thing floats around in them sometimes. No idea what that's about. He just really liked playing with Muggles."
Hermione opened her mouth as if to say something, then stopped and glanced at Harry, who shrugged.
"Actually, that would make perfect sense," Hermione said. "Where was I?"
"Ehm, let's see: Escher, Aesop, once upon a time, I think that's as far as we'd got," Ron said.
"Right, so, once upon a time a long time ago there was a lion who lived in a great grassland and was king over all he surveyed," Hermione said.
"Okay, sounds nice, and very Gryffindor friendly what with the lion and all," Ron said.
"It was indeed," Hermione said. "One day, as he was sleeping hidden in the tall grass, a tiny little mouse stumbled across him, and the lion awoke at once. In a split second he lashed out with his paw and trapped the mouse against the ground."
"Aw," Harry said. "Poor thing."
"Yeah, stinks to be the mouse," Ron said.
"The mouse thought so as well, but he squeaked out, 'O, please, sir lion, do not hurt me!" Hermione said, putting on her very squeakiest voice, which was actually so high that it was hurting Harry's ears.
"Right, I forgot you said the animals talk in this," Ron said. "Okay, what'd the lion do?"
"He said, 'Why should I spare your life?' and the mouse replied, 'Truly, in addition to your great mercy, I should always be your friend, and if you ever had need of my help, I would return the favor most gladly,'" Hermione replied.
"Yeah, that'll happen," Ron scoffed.
"That's about what the lion said," Hermione said, "but in the end he let the little mouse go since he wouldn't even have made a mouthful for the great beast, and he felt kindly towards him."
"See, definitely a Gryffindor lion," Ron said proudly.
"He does make a very kind and fair decision there, and I admire him for it, but that's really more Hufflpuff's trademark than ours," Hermione said.
Ron blew a rather ear-shattering raspberry.
"Seriously, when have you ever heard a story about a kind and fair badger, I ask you," Ron said disgustedly.
"Well, there's Mr. Badger from The Wind in the Willows," Hermione said. "He's a bit of a curmudgeon, but I always liked him. And Trufflehunter in Prince Caspian, who's always loyal."
"Whatever, I like the lion, so he's a Gryffindor," Ron said firmly. "I've never yet met a Hufflepuff I could stand for more than five minutes."
"Cedric was all right," Harry said, and a silence hung in the air for a few seconds.
"Point taken, mate," Ron finally said, breaking the uncomfortableness. "Oh, and that bird with the braids, what's her name?"
"Hannah Abbott?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah, her. Bit odd, but she seems okay," Ron said.
"Hannah is a nice girl," Hermione said. "We talked a few times at the D.A. meetings, and she's really a very decent sort, always willing to work with some of the others who were having more trouble getting their spells to work right, like Neville."
"Okay, fine, so I'm prejudiced unjustly against Hufflepuffs," Ron said. "I'll work on it. Possibly. If I work up the effort to care. So after the lion let the mouse go, then what happened?"
"For quite a while, nothing," Hermione said.
"See? Told you," Ron said.
"Until one day some hunters came to the wild," Hermione said.
"Oh," Ron said.
"They rigged up a great net under a tree and then left," Hermione said. "The lion came along and, not seeing the net, stepped into it and triggered the trap. The next thing he knew, he was swinging high in the air, unable to escape."
"A bit cowardly of the hunters, setting out a trap like that to make the lion helpless so they could just pick him off from safety later," Harry said with a frown.
"And what, you'd want a fair fight with a lion, especially if you were a Muggle using old-fashioned weapons?" Ron asked.
"The real question is why they're bothering the poor lion in the first place as he lives in the middle of nowhere and doesn't seem to be harming any humans," Hermione said, and Harry saw a flash of the same anger in her eyes that usually accompanied an S.P.E.W. tirade.
"Okay, so the lion is stuck in the net," Ron said, deftly drawing the conversation back to the story, and Harry suspected he'd caught the same hint of danger. "Then what?"
"The lion roared loudly in anger and fear, and who should hear him but his old friend, the little mouse," Hermione said. "At once he rushed towards the lion and saw the situation he was in."
"And exactly how is a mouse going to help a lion in this situation? Fetch a very tiny ladder?" Ron asked.
"No. He chewed," Hermione said.
"Chewed?" Ron asked.
"Yes, the mouse ran up the tree and began to chew through the ropes of that net. In a very short time, long before the hunters could return to claim their prize, the mouse succeeded. The lion fell back to the ground, free of the net," Hermione said.
"Huh," Ron said. "Okay, I admit, that's not only useful but actually possibly something a mouse could really do. You know, if a mouse formed an unlikely friendship with what is essentially an extremely overgrown cat."
"It really is a massive play on the whole cat and mouse animosity," Hermione agreed. "In the end, though, the lion was free because he had shown mercy to the mouse and the mouse had kept his promise. It all goes to show that sometimes acquaintances who seem like they may not be powerful can be the most important of all."
"And the mouse and the lion lived happily ever after?" Ron asked.
"I suppose so, yes," Hermione said.
"Why am I thinking of Neville again?" Ron asked. "He is a bit mouse-like, isn't he?"
"But we already know in a fight he's as loyal and true as any Gryffindor and a fast friend," Harry pointed out.
"I suppose so," Ron said, stretching. "I'm just glad to be rid of all that mud. I suppose we may as well turn in as there isn't anything to eat again."
"Who said there wasn't anything to eat?" Hermione said with a grin, then pulled a paper sack out of her beaded bag. "The lady who owns Pickles insisted I take this with me as a token of her appreciation."
Inside were several homemade meat pasties and a dozen shortbread biscuits, all still piping hot. Harry and Ron stared at them with their tongues hanging out for a full count of five before Hermione finally said, "Oh, for pity's sake, it's not like you've never seen food before! Fall to already!"
They had a wonderful meal for once that night, and Harry noted that Ron didn't have a single negative word to say about Pickles from then on.
