Author's Ramblings: Hello, I'm kind of getting into this now- it's actually got a plan!!! Yay! I am sucky at planning; I just tend to write down the first thing that comes into my head. So anyway, here's the next chapter, enjoy!
P.S. Would you believe that, although the plot contains Death Eaters and danger etc., Voldie himself won't make an appearance? Just thought I'd tell ya. Like a teaser.
Disclaimer: My lawyer came and informed me that if I don't shut up I'll be sued to within an inch of my life. Nice.
Everybody say HI to my wonderful beta horntail07! Now wave. Do a little dance on one foot- go on, she deserves it! Thaaaat's right, dance for her, minions.
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Mind: The Gap.
Chapter four.
"Come on, we have no idea where she went, we have to find somewhere to put you. Fast!"
Neville breathed heavily, one thing he'd learned; Hermione sure could run in those heels. He nodded, but knew she hadn't seen him, as she was already several metres ahead and scanning the area for a suitable place to hide.
"In here!" she yelled suddenly and grabbed at his arm, dragging him into a dank-looking room with a mop in it. A store cupboard.
He looked around sceptically, I hope I don't have to stay in here for very long, he thought. Hermione was talking again so Neville reverted his attention back to her voice.
"-and don't move or make a sound or anything, understand? I'll stand watch outside just in case." She opened the door to leave, but then turned around again with a flip of her bushy hair. "Do you have any idea why she's like this? And more importantly, do you know any way to cure her?"
Neville broke his previous silence, "I- I'm sorry, the flower…I don't know what it was, if I could study it maybe…"
They both realised at the same time that something was missing.
Hermione winced and asked the question, knowing full well what the answer would be.
"Where is it?"
Neville could only stare helplessly at his empty hands before looking up at her apologetically.
"I think it's-"
"-back in the compartment. Great. Okay, this isn't a complete disaster; we just need to calmly evaluate the situation. You have to stay here and hide. I'll go back and get it before anyone else does."
"But…"
Hermione held up a hand, "I'd really rather not think about what will happen if it isn't there."
She made to leave again, but Neville clutched at the sleeve of her robe, suddenly afraid.
"What if she finds me? I can't fight a girl! Let me come with you, please? Don't leave me alone."
Gah! thought Hermione, I have no time for this. I have to get that plant! "Fine, come on then, but be quiet and stay behind me."
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"QUACK! Why do I – QUACK! – keep - QUACK! – ing?" Harry clapped his hand over his mouth again, his whole body bouncing with the force of the involuntary sounds being kept in.
Fred and George frowned.
"We don't know-"
"I'm sure those were the Barking Buttons-"
"Not the Duckish Delight."
Harry only glared in response, then let out a particularly loud and embarrassing QUACK! He expected the twins to mock his misery, but all they did was sit cross-legged on the cushioned bench in front of him, frowning, quills in one hand and clipboards in the other. They dipped their quills into the inkbottle between them and scratched away at the parchment, taking notes, as if Harry were some kind of strange exhibit, which was what he was beginning to feel like.
Only when their note-taking was finished did they provide the suffering Golden Boy with some relief. He downed the purple potion they handed to him and cautiously brought it away from his lips, still expecting to be quacking like a duck. Wouldn't that be just great? First day back and he'd already managed to humiliate himself. Thankfully, the antidote seemed to work, and he gratefully handed it back to the twins, who were already opening a packet of what looked like tiny little sandals or flip-flops in a variety of colours. They picked out two, a left one and a right one.
"What size are your feet?" one of them- George, no, Fred- asked.
"About the same size as Ron," Harry guessed, "I don't have to eat these, do I?"
They looked at him incredulously, the shadows of moving branches from outside the train flickering across their faces in patterned chaos, "Don't be silly-"
"You put them-"
"On your feet."
They enlarged the gaudy shoes carefully and gave them to Harry. He slipped them on and did up the straps, all the while wondering why he'd agreed to this madness.
"Now Harry, don't put you feet on the ground until we say so, 'kay?"
He nodded apprehensively.
"Ready…" They held their clipboards tightly, quills hovering mere millimetres off the crisp parchment, "set…" Harry eased his feet downwards. "Go!" His feet hit the ground. There was a soft boom and a cloud of red-orange smoke descended on the three. When the smoke lifted and they had cleared it from their lungs with much coughing and spluttering it was to find Harry sitting on the soft blue carpet, his feet in the air, pedalling nothingness like a comical road-runner. At this sight the twins finally lost their professionalism, dissolving into fits of giggly laughter, only encouraged by Harry's indignant expression.
When they had at last calmed down and silence interrupted only by small snickers prevailed, Harry spoke.
"Was that supposed to happen?"
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Ron ran down the length of the train, puffing and panting with exertion like a dog in a heat wave. His arms switched from being tucked tightly into his sides so he was as aerodynamic as possible, to flailing, outstretched, desperately clinging to railings or walls, trying to get back his balance and breath.
I didn't know she could run so fast, he thought as he peered around yet another empty carriage. He sighed, and began methodically searching through the compartments, hoping Ginny was nearby and not causing havoc throughout the train. He stopped, suddenly realising what could happen if he didn't find her. What if she was captured by the Slytherins? Hexed? What if, in her bewildered frenzy, she jumped right off the train itself?
He slammed open the door of the first compartment.
A group of studious-looking Ravenclaw sixth years gazed intently at the intruder over the fan of cards each was holding. Ron stood in the doorway, red-faced and breathing heavily, his robes clinging damply to his back and sides.
"Yes?"
He rubbed the back of his neck; the sixth years glanced incredulously at the action, one of them raising a questioning eyebrow. He quickly snatched his hand away.
"Have you seen my sister? She's…um…lost, and I need to find her. She has red hair, like mine," he pointed, "and brown eyes, and, err, freckles, and-"
"No," was the interrupting reply.
"Oh! Um, sorry for dist-"
The two nearest him waved him away, turning back to their game, their faces all the while set in an emotionless mask.
"I'll…I'll just leave then…"
Once out of the compartment and back in the corridor he leaned against the moving wall of the train, frowning at his sudden shyness around the Ravenclaw group. Standing straight, he adjusted his robe and proceeded authoritatively to the next compartment to knock primly on the door.
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A knock was heard outside the compartment door.It slid open, sticking slightly on the carpeted ground.
"Ah, Severus, glad you could join us. Lemon drop?"
"No thank you, I'm cutting down," replied the Potions Master.
"Shame."
The door was pushed shut, and Severus Snape stood in the small room full of teachers, which was becoming increasingly crowded as the hours progressed. Dumbledore seemingly also noticed this problem, and with a flick of his wand hand the compartment seemed much larger, like the inside of the Weasley car, or a certain trunk that doesn't bear mentioning. The various professors settled in their seats, sighing and shuffling to give each other more room. Once they were all comfortable, Snape, still standing, foreboding in his black robes, spoke.
"As I'm sure you are aware, Headmaster, my godson has been given a mission, a somewhat dangerous mission, and I would like it over and done with as fast as possible, with as little trouble. Unfortunately, there is a problem."
Professor McGonagall straightened in shock, her eyes widening. "Albus! You did not mention this! Why, the thought that You-Know-Who would use the boy at such an early age is worrying enough, but a dangerous mission? What possessed you to allow this?"
Madame Hooch shushed the transfiguration teacher, "Severus, what is the mission, and what is the problem?"
Professor Snape looked at the Headmaster quizzically, silently asking permission. Dumbledore steepled his hands, thinking, eyes closed.
"The young master Malfoy, Severus' godson, has been ordered by the Dark Lord to find and capture or kill a renegade Death Eater, who has been an anonymous informant for the order for some time. We have never known his, or her, identity, and neither has Voldemort," controlled winces whispered through the gathering at the name. "Until now."
"Yes Albus, but there will surely be some trouble over the identity of this informant?" enquired Severus.
The Headmaster nodded, "I'm counting on it."
The other teachers of Hogwarts were beginning to feel out of the loop, thrown by the guarded words, inside secrets and as always, Dumbledore's riddle-like way of speaking. Severus carried on regardless.
"I have managed to gauge the rough whereabouts of this 'spy' or whatever he is. They are in Scotland, nearby, but moving, so I cannot pinpoint their exact location."
"Is this why we are on the train with the students?" piped up Professor Flitwick.
Almost at the same time Professor McGonagall and Madame Hooch yelled, "What Is Going ON!?"
Dumbledore popped another lemon drop into his mouth, and twinkled his blue eyes slightly at the accusing stares.
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Author's Ramblings 2: Dun dun dun!!! Anyway, review and all that, and I'll give you whatever you want like a magic review-whore genie. (Sprinkles magic dust) Stay tuned!
This is Squibakou signing out.