Hello everyone! I hope you've all had a nice week. Here's Chapter 11 for you; It's a long one and quite a lot happens.
…
Chapter 11: Homemade Bread Rolls for the Soul
It was the last day before the Christmas holidays. At eleven the next morning, the Hogwarts Express would be leaving Hogsmeade Station, heading to London. As it was, most of Gryffindor house had not yet begun sorting their things. That was why that morning, most of the fifth-year girls were up in the dormitory, trying to pack up their belongings. Esmerelda flung one of her school jumpers over her shoulder as she dug around under her bed looking for her books. She glanced to her left and could see Lavender Brown doing something similar. Hermione, on the other hand, was sitting on top of her bed, reading. She had a very smug expression on her face. It was one that said they should have packed yesterday so that they wouldn't have to spend their last day trying to find all the things they would need. Esmerelda chose to ignore Hermione's expression and carry on with her search.
Across the hall, the boys weren't having much luck either, their dormitory looking an even bigger tip than the girls'.
"Why is it even this difficult?" Harry asked exasperatedly. "It really shouldn't be. We're only going for two weeks!"
Over from the other side of the room, Ron huffed. "No idea mate. Why can't I seem to be able to find anything I own?"
They eventually managed to find enough belongings to fill their trunks and gave up tackling the rest of the pile. They made their way downstairs to see that the girls had seemingly done the same.
"Finished packing?" Harry asked as he sat down and made himself comfortable.
"Hermione obviously finished hers yesterday," Esmerelda replied. "I've just about finished. I've still got to find a way of putting everything else back where it belongs now though." She shuddered at the thought of having to tackle that pile of clothes and belongings again. "Or maybe I'll just shove it all back under the bed."
Hermione stared at her in disbelief.
"Only joking, Hermione," Esmerelda stated, not wanting her friend to die of shock. Although, she was half tempted to just leave the pile there.
Esmerelda was about to carry on her pestering of Hermione when she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, someone trying to catch her attention. Turning her head slightly to peek round the side of Hermione's head, she saw George Weasley trying to beckon her over.
"I'll sort my stuff out in just a bit Hermione, I promise," Esmerelda started, pre-occupied with catching George's eye and nodding discreetly. "I just remembered I left one of my books over there by the fire, so I'm just going to go grab it before I forget."
Before Hermione could respond, Esmerelda had casually strolled over to the fire and sat down next to George, pretending to be searching for her book amongst the personal belonging strewn near the sofas.
"You beckoned…" she said with a smirk.
George smiled. "Freddie has mentioned that you are under the impression that we're some sort of creative geniuses or something…"
"I did not say that Fred Weasley," interrupted Esmerelda in fake outrage.
"Well, it was something along those lines…" Fred said, prodding her in the side as he smiled teasingly.
George cleared his throat. "As I was saying, he said that you were impressed with our Skiving Snackboxes, and so we were wondering if you'd be interested in helping us out with one of our newest creations tonight?" George wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, goading her for an answer.
Esmerelda grinned. "What kind of creation are we talking?" she asked curiously.
"Oh well that would be telling," Fred stated.
"I do have an awful lot to do before tomorrow," she said frowning. She could see Fred's smile fade too. "I'll think about it," she said a second later.
Esmerelda spotted her book hidden under a dusty Gryffindor scarf and picked it up before rising from the sofa.
"See you at 11:30 in this exact location," Fred called after her in a whisper.
"And you're so confident that I'll be there are you?" she replied in the same volume.
"Course I am," he added. "You can't resist an adventure."
Esmerelda turned once again to re-join her friends, smile plastered on her face.
…
"She's not coming," a hoarse whisper echoed across the common room. "It's 35 minutes past," the voice of George continued.
"She'll be here," Fred's more confident voice stated.
"What makes you so sure?"
Esmerelda could hear a pause as Fred was presumably thinking. "She'll be here," he repeated.
"Hello gentlemen," Esmerelda greeted the twins as she appeared from the shadows of the circular staircase, dressed in her silk, crimson pyjamas. She could see a blush creeping up the side of Fred's neck as he took in her tight-fitting clothing. Interesting, she thought.
"You're late," replied Fred, smiling.
"Yes, well some of us have social lives," she retorted, an exact echo of his statement on the evening they had spent in the Prefect's bathroom.
Fred laughed. Beside him, George looked puzzled.
"Shall we go then," George asked the others cheerfully.
"Where exactly are we going?" Esmerelda enquired. "And will I need my cloak?"
George smiled. "Now, that would ruin the surprise. But no, you won't need a cloak; We're staying inside the castle tonight."
Esmerelda followed the pair out of the portrait hole and through the corridors.
"We'll need to watch out for Filch," George said, peering around a corner near the Great Hall.
"Nah," replied Fred. He stopped and turned to Esmerelda. "Where will Filch be now?"
She smiled. "What time is it?"
Fred checked his watch. "Ten-to-midnight."
"Near Ravenclaw Tower," she responded casually.
George looked perplexed.
"Isn't she amazing? We should have involved her in our schemes years ago," Fred laughed.
"Who knew you were so mischievous, Miss Evans?" George said, clearly impressed.
Esmerelda smirked and shrugged her shoulders. "I did," she replied jokingly. Fred smiled.
"Are we going to the dungeons?" Esmerelda asked a little while later, as they wound their way further downwards into the depths of the castle.
"Not quite," George replied, "But we are going down into the depths of the castle."
Fred spoke. "We're almost there." He turned to Esmerelda and smiled broadly. "You're going to love it."
She smiled in return, butterflies playing havoc with her stomach again. She forced them to calm down.
"And here we are," George said matter-of-factly.
They'd stopped in front of a rather ordinary painting of a bowl of fruit.
"And where exactly are we?" she asked, perplexed. A second passed. "Wait are we…" she turned to Fred inquisitively.
He nodded. "Yep. As requested by our fair lady: the Hogwarts' kitchens."
George leant over to the painting and began to stroke the pear, which began to giggle, before the portrait swung open, revealing a cavernous room beyond.
Before she had a chance to take it in, Fred had grabbed her hand and yanked her inside, before George swung the painting shut behind them.
The room was unlike anything she'd ever seen. It was absolutely massive, probably the biggest one she'd seen at Hogwarts. Hermione, Ron and Harry had been down here last year, when she had been confined to the Hospital Wing for a couple of days courtesy of the Blast-Ended Skrewts; Esmerelda had been envious of their late-night visit to the kitchens at the time, hoping to be able to visit at some point.
Looking around now, she spotted long rows of cookers and kitchen apparatus, and on one side, four, identical tables that were the spitting image of the ones in the Great Hall. Flitting about the room, appeared to be dozens of house elves. Of course, it had been this that had instigated Hermione's SPEW campaign the previous year.
She turned to her companions, awestruck by what she was seeing. Both boys were staring at her, gleeful smiles on their faces. "Wow," was all she could manage, as they dragged her over the where the majority of the house-elves were situated. She noticed the residents of the room bustling about, busying themselves with cooking and organising. Over in the corner, she recognised one of the elves, towering pile of hats swaying perilously atop its head.
"Dobby?" she asked incredulously.
"Miss!" a squeaky voice replied. Dobby the House Elf hurried over to where they were standing. "Dobby is happy to see you again Miss. Miss is Harry Potter's family. Miss is a nice girl."
Fred and George's grins had gotten even bigger. "Maybe we should start calling you Miss Harry Potter's family," Fred teased. George nudged him.
Fred spoke up. "Dobby. We were wondering if we might be able to sit here for a while and try a few things out? It's for a school project."
Esmerelda scowled at him. Whatever it was they were doing here, she doubted very much it had anything to do with schoolwork.
"Why of course Sirs and Miss," Dobby responded. He conjured up a small circular table, and beckoned them over to sit. "Anything you is wanting, Dobby will make."
Esmerelda smiled meekly, and the boys thanked Dobby before sitting.
"So think you can tell me what we're doing here now?" she asked them.
The twins looked at each other and smiled. "It's a new idea of ours," Fred started. "We're thinking of branching out, beyond the Skiving Snackboxes into other fun and novelty products."
"Basically, something we've been tinkering with," George added, "is the idea of a product, probably a sweet, that can taste like absolutely anything you wish. Could be your favourite food, or if used as a prank, something really awful like liver or tripe…"
Esmerelda smiled at their excitement and then smirked.
"What?" Fred asked, a hint of a worried look on his face. "You don't think it's a good idea?" he asked despondently.
"I do," she responded. "It's just…it's like the Three-Course Dinner Chewing Gum from Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory."
The boys exchanged confused looks.
Esmerelda chuckled. "It's a book, a muggle book," she clarified. "Willy Wonka's an inventor, a creator – kind of a genius but a bit mental – anyway, he owns this massive chocolate factory and invites all these children for a visit as a special treat."
The boys were looking at her with rapt attention. She continued, "Well, it all goes a bit wrong really. One by one the children have disastrous things happen to them, but one of the products that goes wrong is this Three-Course Meal Chewing Gum, which allows the chewer to experience a full meal purely through chewing the gum."
"Wow," Fred said. "And what goes wrong with it?"
"One of the girls turns into a giant blueberry," she responded.
George furrowed his brow. "Muggles are weird," he stated. Fred nodded in agreement.
Esmerelda giggled. "Boys, what are we doing here in the kitchen?" she asked once the conversation had turned back to their invention.
"We wanted to see if we could find a way of replicating the authentic flavours of real foods to use in our product," Fred answered. "So we figured a little visit to the kitchens was in order."
Esmerelda thought about their idea. "It'll probably have to be a potion in order to get the precision," she added.
"That's one of the reasons we came to you," George said excitedly. "Freddie tells me you're a bit of a whizz with Potions."
Esmerelda smiled. "I'll see what I can find out," she answered with a smile.
"In the meantime, we might as well choose which foods we'll want to practise replicating. We won't want to be practising with horrible stuff like sprouts." He grimaced. "So, for research purposes, it would only be right to test out some of our favourite foods," Fred said cheekily. The same cheeky smile was mirrored on George's face.
"Pizza and profiteroles it is then," Esmerelda stated. She felt her stomach rumble as the nearest House Elf bustled off to make their food.
They gorged on their favourites until they were no longer able to feasibly eat any more and decided that, considering they would be rising early to catch the train in the morning, they'd best get back to their dormitories.
They walked in companionable silence through the castle and back to Gryffindor Tower, stopping on the stairs to say their goodnights.
"Thank you," she said to them both, hugging them individually. "That was certainly an experience."
"No thank you for agreeing to help us!" George stated. "We are very grateful and are forever indebted to you, milady."
Esmerelda laughed quietly and opened the door to her room.
"Night love," George whispered, before heading up the stairs.
Fred scowled at his twin's retreating back. He turned back to face Esmerelda. "See you in the morning," he said softly, before following his brother up the stairs to his dormitory.
Esmerelda quietly tiptoed into her room, determined not to wake up any of her dorm mates. She flopped onto her bed, tucked herself under the covers, and fell almost immediately to sleep.
…..
"Esmerelda, wake up! Wake up, come on!" Esmerelda's eyes jolted open. It took a few seconds for them to adjust and to register the figure standing over her, shaking her awake.
"Hermione, what are you doing? What time is it?"
"It's early. Five-something, I think. But you need to wake up. Something happened last night. McGonagall just came to find me. Harry and Ron, and all the Weasleys, have gone to Grimmauld Place. They're okay but something happened to Mr. Weasley last night."
Esmerelda was silent for a minute, taking in what Hermione had told her. Her heart was beating. Hermione had said that Harry and Ron and the others were okay. But what about Mr. Weasley. "What happened? Is he hurt? Is this to do with the Order?" she asked Hermione frantically.
"McGonagall didn't tell me much more than that. I think he's going to be okay, but he's been taken to St. Mungo's." Esmerelda's heart sank. Hermione continued. "I don't know how exactly, but Harry was somehow involved. I think he had one of his dreams."
Esmerelda was panicking now. Not only was Mr. Weasley hurt, but Harry was involved somehow. "Let's go then. I'm packed. We can use the floo in Dumbledore's office." She stood up, and frantically began gathering her things together.
"We can't," Hermione replied, trying to calm her friend. "McGonagall said we have to pretend as though nothing has happened. If we suddenly disappear too, it will raise suspicions as to why we've all left early. Umbridge will start suspecting something." Hermione could see her friend beginning to protest. "We've got to do this. I know how you're feeling. I'm feeling the same way, but they need us to be calm and collected. So, we'll get the Hogwarts Express with the rest of the students, and then once we're in London, we can head straight to Grimmauld Place."
Esmerelda wanted to argue, but she knew Hermione was right. That didn't stop her from thinking about her friends, picturing their faces, and how they must be feeling right now. 11 o'clock couldn't come soon enough.
…...
A few hours later, the Hogwarts Express pulled away from the station. They had found themselves sharing a compartment with Neville, Seamus, and Dean, which was providing some distraction from what occupied their minds. A game of Exploding Snap had broken out, and currently Seamus was winning against Neville, with Dean promising Hermione a game after they'd finished. When the trolley witch had come by, offering sweet treats, Esmerelda and Hermione had decided to indulge in some Chocolate Frogs and now had two more famous wizard cards to add to their collection.
Finally, several hours later, the train pulled into Kings Cross Station, and the students all disembarked, greeting their parents as they emerged onto the platform. Luckily, Hermione had thought to owl their parents, letting them know of the change in plans. They hopped into a black Hackney Carriage and headed straight for Grimmauld Place.
Esmerelda wasn't sure what to expect when she arrived at number 12 Grimmauld Place. It had now been at least half a day since the attack, and she didn't know what state Mr. Weasley would be in. With a quick glance at Hermione, she hesitantly knocked on the door.
As the door opened, Esmerelda could see that it was Mrs. Weasley who had answered. As to be expected, Mrs. Weasley did not look her usual bright self. Despite this, she still smiled as she saw the girls, and greeted them with a hug. They crept down the hallway, careful not to wake Sirius' deranged mother - who's portrait hung in the hall - and headed to the kitchen.
They had evidently arrived just in time for dinner, and the family, as well as Tonks and Sirius, were all sat down at the dinner table ready to eat. The atmosphere, although much more muted than normal, wasn't as sombre as Esmerelda had feared. Hopefully, she thought, this meant that Mr. Weasley's prognosis wasn't too dire.
The girls each took a spare seat and shrugged off their coats. Esmerelda looked around, and unable to spot Harry, looked worried.
Ron noticed this and took her hand in his comfortingly. "He's upstairs. Said he wasn't hungry," he reassured her. Esmerelda nodded.
"How's Mr. Weasley?" she asked, hoping that they had some good news. Hermione looked intently at Mrs. Weasley who managed a smile.
"He's doing okay," she replied. "He was badly hurt, and they were worried he wouldn't pull through for a little while." Mrs. Weasley's eyes watered. "But he's strong, and the mediwitches at St. Mungo's are doing brilliant work. He won't be home just yet, but hopefully not too long." The girls smiled reassuringly at Mrs. Weasley, who smiled back and then busied herself serving up dinner.
"You really didn't have to do this Molly," Sirius said. "With everything that's going on, we hardly expected you to cook for us."
"Nonsense. We all needed a good meal tonight. Plus, it provides a welcome distraction," she replied.
Sirius protested no further. Esmerelda looked over to Sirius. She desperately wanted to catch up with him, but that would probably have to wait until tomorrow.
Dinner was delicious as always, but even food as lovely as Mrs. Weasley's couldn't distract Esmerelda from worrying about Harry. Why wasn't he at the table with everyone else?
Eventually, the dishes were cleared, and conversation died down. Some people excused themselves to their rooms, not really feeling up to a lively evening. Esmerelda, as soon as she was able to slip away from a conversation she'd been having with Tonks, headed upstairs to the bedroom Harry shared with Ron.
She knocked on the door quietly, unsure if Harry was actually asleep or if he had merely been using that as an excuse to avoid dinner. She heard no response, but nonetheless, pushed the door open and slipped into the room. Ron was yet to return, having gotten into an argument about Quidditch manoeuvres with George downstairs.
"Harry," she whispered, "are you awake?"
"No," Harry replied quietly. Esmerelda smiled.
"You must be hungry. I brought you something." She rummaged in the pocket of her cardigan and extracted one of Mrs. Weasley's homemade bread rolls. Harry rolled over and sat up, legs crossed beneath him and Esmerelda passed him the roll.
"What happened then?" Esmerelda asked. "Full story."
Harry sighed. "I had another dream." Esmerelda nodded. "Only this time," he continued, "it was different."
"Different how?"
"It was real," Harry replied.
Esmerelda raised her eyebrows. Harry carried on. "I know how that sounds, but I just knew, as soon as I woke up, that it hadn't really been just a dream. It started off the same as all the others, in that same corridor, but I soon realised that I was seeing it from a different point of view." Harry shuffled nervously on the bed. "I saw Mr. Weasley, and it was like he was waiting there for someone or something, expecting something to happen. And then, I saw him being attacked. It was horrible."
"Harry, I hope that you know that none of that is your fault. Just because you saw it happen, doesn't mean that you made it happen. You may be the Boy Who Lived and all that, but you aren't powerful enough to attack someone while you're still asleep, hundreds of miles away," Esmerelda said.
"But you don't get it," Harry replied, "it was as though I was the snake. As though I was the one doing the attacking." He was becoming increasingly agitated. Esmerelda moved over to Harry's bed and sat down next to him.
"You know this is all Voldemort's doing." She placed a hand on Harry's arm reassuringly. "He's the one who is affecting your dreams. He's trying to mess with your mind, to make you think that you're going crazy, or that somehow you are the dangerous one. None of this is your fault, he just wants you to think that it is. I know it's hard, but I need you to remember that, Harry. You didn't attack Mr. Weasley. Voldemort did, and he wanted you to see it happen as a way of undermining your strength. You can't let him." She looked at Harry, making sure that he saw the determination in her stare.
Harry nodded. He rested his head on Esmerelda's shoulder, and they sat for a while in silence. After a few minutes, she could see the exhaustion overcoming Harry.
"I'm going to head up to bed Harry, let you get some sleep. Hopefully Hermione and Ginny haven't come up yet and I may still be able to get into the bathroom before they lay claim over it." She stood up and headed over to the door.
"Good night, Esmerelda," Harry said sleepily.
"Good night, Harry. Sleep well." She opened the door and the light from the landing seeped in, illuminating the room for a few seconds. She turned and closed the door behind her, leaving her cousin to sleep. She could hear the voices of Hermione and Ginny from below as they ascended the staircase. Esmerelda quickly bolted up the remaining flight of stairs to where the girls' bedrooms were and slipped into the bathroom before the others had made their way up.
Later as she lay in bed, in the room that she shared with both Hermione and Ginny, Esmerelda realised she couldn't sleep. She'd been hoping that the long train journey and all of the worrying she had done would have tired her out, but she was having no such luck. As she shut her eyes, thoughts of Harry and Mr. Weasley, and then of Voldemort and his snake, were running through her mind making sleep impossible. She sat up in bed frustratedly, thrashing her feet around under the covers. Somehow, in beds on either side of her, the other two girls were managing to sleep peacefully. Oh, how she envied them right about now. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. 1:07. If she was at Hogwarts, she'd be taking an illicit night-time stroll right about now. Only twelve hours ago, she was down in the kitchens with Fred and George. Esmerelda let out a silent sigh. She made up her mind. She swung her legs to the left side of her bed and placed them on the floor. It was cold underfoot, and she shivered as the duvet fell away. Esmerelda reached for her dressing gown at the end of her bed and pulled it on over her pyjamas.
As quietly as she could, she tiptoed out into the hallway, careful not to let the slightly squeaky door wake the others as she did so. Where to go? She asked herself once she was out of her room. Down was only the living areas and the kitchen. But up contained a multitude of mysterious rooms she had yet to explore. Up it is then. She crept silently, or as silently as she could in an old, creaky house, to the staircase, and headed upstairs. She kept going until she had reached the top of the house. During the summer, Mrs. Weasley had busied them all with tidying up various rooms of the house and restoring them to their former glory. However, they had not ventured up this high in the house, and these rooms were all unfamiliar to her. She picked a room to the left of the stairs, as the door intrigued her. It looked very heavy, and in the wood were intricately carved woodland figures, all surrounding a huge oak tree with a twisted trunk. It reminded Esmerelda of the Whomping Willow.
She placed her hand on the large brass door handle and turned. The wood was a bit stiff, so she gave the door a bit of a nudge with her hip as she turned it again. The door gave way and opened into the room. Esmerelda took in what she saw in front of her. Rows upon rows of books stood before her, reaching all the way from the floor to the ceiling. The library was not like the one downstairs. It lacked the organisation and dignity of the type of formal libraries one would associate with a family like the Blacks. This library was more chaotic. There were books laid out across the tables and piles of books in various places throughout the room. There was even one of those wooden library ladders that can slide across to make any book in the room accessible. At the back of the room, nearest the window, Esmerelda could see a spectacular wooden desk, just as intricately carved as the door through which she had just entered. The desk was messy, with more books strewn about across the surface, and pens and paper laid there almost as if they had just been forgotten about. The desk was flanked by an old, leather chair, with a high back and rickety legs. It was in this chair, sitting with his legs up on the desk and a book in hand, sat Fred Weasley with a smug grin on his face.