Chapter Thirteen

"Well done, Harry!" said Dumbledore. "You've escaped from the Dark Lord once more!"

"It wasn't really that hard," replied Harry modestly, "and I don't even know how I got there."

Dumbledore ignored him.

"We should have a party!" declared the Headmaster. "To celebrate your escape! And the release of the last book!"

"What book?" asked Harry.

Dumbledore checked his watch.

"Steak and cheese pie for lunch today, Harry," he said, "let's go tell everyone about the party!"

The Headmaster waltzed cheerfully out of the room.

Realizing that this kind of opportunity did not come around every day, Harry began rummaging through Dumbledore's desk.

After picking his way through three drawers of old socks, phoenix feathers, interstaff memos and raw pasta, Harry found what he was looking for – a large jar of Sherbet Lemons.

"WARNING:," read Harry aloud, "excessive consumption of Quiggly Brand Sherbet Lemons may cause giddiness, eye twinkles, constipation and/ or sexual attraction to socks."

He immediately dropped the sock he was holding.

"That's disgusting," he muttered, "but it does make sense."

Suddenly, Fawkes burst into the room, grabbed Harry by the collar, and vanished them both out of the room.

***

"Oooph," said Harry as he hit the ground.

The ground said nothing, although it did look slightly disgruntled.

"Let's get this party started right now!" beamed the Headmaster.

"The party is now?" said Harry. "Makes sense."

And, with that, he put the jar of Sherbet Lemons in his pocket, and went in search of a red-light situation.

"Why did this party have to be held outside?" grumbled Rachel, adjusting her Super Massive Black Hat™.

"Lighten up, Rach," replied Fred, "what could possibly go wrong?"

"I could burn up and be left only as a pile of smoldering ashes," retorted Rachel.

Hermione tutted.

"I think you're over reacting," she said, "I mean, this is Britain!"

Rachel muttered angrily.

"Have you ever been outside without your hat on?" asked Dean.

"No," replied Rachel.

"Then how do you know it'll hurt you?" asked Neville/Alex.

"Ever jumped into the vat of molten lead?" asked Rachel.

"No," replied Neville/Alex.

"Want to try it and see if it hurts?"

"I think this is all just an urban myth," said Hermione.

"And I think Twilight is a great book," said Louise.

Hermione looked at her in confusion.

"Oh, sorry," said Louise, "I thought we were taking turns at saying things that were obviously stupid lies."

"I think you're just being silly," said Hermione, and, with that, she reached up and plucked Rachel's hat off her head.

"ARGH!" screamed Rachel. "It BURNS!"

"Holy hippogriffs!" cried Louise and huge shadows of steam rose from Rachel's skin and the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

"Put the hat back on!" yelled Fred.

George grabbed the wide-brim from Hermione and jammed it back on Rachel's head.

The sizzling stopped.

"Are you ok, Rachel?" asked Louise tentatively.

Rachel opened her eyes and looked at her hands fearfully.

She gasped.

"I'm … I'm … TANNED!"

"Opps," said Hermione.

"It's not that bad," said Neville/Alex, "could be worse."

Dumbledore wandered over to the group, whistling happily.

"Has someone been cooking pork sausages?" he asked.

Rachel burst into tears.

"SEVERUS!" screamed Louise. "Get over here!"

Snape snaped over to the group.

"Need I remind you, again, Miss Frost, that whilst you attend this school, I am your superior?"

"Shut up," replied Louise, "Rachel's upset."

"Look what they did to me, Sevvy!" wailed Rachel.

Severus recoiled, repulsed.

"You're … tanned …"

"I know!" sobbed Rachel.

"For Frond's Sake, Snape," said Louise, "tell her she still looks beautiful and that you love her."

"I love you Rachel," said Snape, "and …"

Rachel looked up hopefully.

Snape swallowed heavily.

"Go on," whispered Dean.

"I'm … I'm sorry, Rachel," said Snape, "I love you, but I'm just not attracted to you anymore."

Rachel's bottom lip quivered.

"You shallow bastard!" yelled Louise, and, with a flick of her wand, Snape had blonde hair.

"Oh, Merlin!" cried Draco, "Not with his complexion!"

"Hi, Hermione," said Harry, "we just got here. What's going on?"

"Hermione," growled Rachel, turning to face the other girl, "you stole my future, you broke my dreams …"

"She'll kill you," finished Louise.

Hermione gulped.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Oh," said Rachel, "well, then, if you're sorry …"

"You won't kill me?" asked Hermione hopefully.

Rachel scowled.

"I'm going to make you rue the day you ever heard the phrase 'urban myth'."

"Run," suggested Louise.

Hermione did so.

"Come on, Rachel," said Louise, "Let's go investigate anti-tanning methods."

"So, Draco," ventured Harry, after the girls left, "you wanna come help me pimp my ride?"

"No," replied Draco succinctly, and walked away.

"Dammit," sighed Harry, "I thought I was in this time, fo' sure."

***

Harry sighed.

"There's nothing to do," he grumbled.

"I could kill you, if you like," suggested Ron.

Harry glared at him.

"No, thankyou,"

"No, really! I brought this set of gallows from IKEA – we can make it, and then kill you! It'll be fun!"

"How about we play chess?" asked Harry.

"I'd rather kill you," muttered Ron.

"But you love chess!"

Ron shrugged.

"Ron," asked Harry, "is there something wrong? You can tell me anything you know. We're all friends here."

Ron just sighed and stroked his Frånfälle flat pack.

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of purple light.

"Snap out it it!" shrieked Louise, from where she was hiding behind Ron's chair.

"OMG!" gasped Ron, "Cho Chang was trying to make me kill you!"

"WHAT?!" replied Harry.

"Ah," sighed Louise in satisfaction, "that was totally worth the nine hours I spent sitting here."

***

"So," summarized Hermione, "Cho Chang attempted to get Ron to kill Harry, but we have no idea why."

"I'm sorry, mate," said Ron, "she used her feminine wiles on me – I thought they were just an urban myth!"

Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth and looked around the room quickly.

"It's ok," replied Harry, "most people try to off me at some point. I'm kinda getting used to it."

"Ron," whispered Hermione, "is Rachel here?"

"No,"

Hermione sighed, relived.

"Ok, so, do you remember anything about the day that Cho put her wiles on you?"

Ron looked thoughtful.

"Well …" he said slowly, "the wireless was on. There was a song playing about teenagers scaring the living shit out of someone … but then Cho turned it off … she called it 'emo trash'."

"Emo trash!" gasped Harry.

"OMG!" said Hermione. "Colin's in trouble!"

"To St Mungos!" declared Ron.

***

"Colin's in room 35," said Harry.

"We know," said Hermione, "you've already told us eight times."

"I'm just nervous," said Harry, "I hope he's ok."

"YOU!" shrieked a loud voice, seemingly from nowhere.

The three students wheeled around, wands in hand.

"Show yourself!" yelled Harry.

"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to go through me first!" shouted Ron, trying to make up for his previous homicidal tendencies.

"HERMIONE!" shrilled the same voice, "IS IT REALLY YOU?"

"Ah," said Hermione, "I guess so."

"Oh," said the voice, "I haven't seen you since you were a tiny baby."

"Where are you?" asked Harry.

"Over here," said the voice, "in the portrait."

The group walked over to the portrait in question.

"Wow," said Ron, "she looks just like you, Hermione."

"That's because I'm her grandmother, dear," said the bushy-haired lady in the portrait, "haven't you told them about your family, Hermione?"

"I don't know what you mean," replied Hermione, "my family are all Muggles."

The portrait gasped.

"Muggles?" she said. "You mean, nobody has told you the truth?"

"The truth?" asked Ron.

"Hermione," said the portrait, "you are the last in the Twiddleklinger family line. We sent you to the Muggles during the first war to protect you."

"I'm not Muggleborn?" asked Hermione.

"Twiddleklinger?" whispered Harry to Ron, who hid a snigger.

"Of course not!" replied the portrait, "You're a pureblood!"

"Wow," said Hermione, "I guess nobody saw that one coming."

"There's something else that you probably haven't been told," said the portrait.

"Do we have awesome hereditary abilities?" asked Hermione excitedly.

"Yes, yes," said the portrait dismissively, "but this is more important than that."

"Have I inherited large tracts of land?"

"Yes, yes, but this –"

"Are we incredibly rich?"

"Yes, but-"

"Do I get a pony?"

"No!"

Hermione pouted.

"Hermione," said the portrait, "listen to me. You had a curse put on you as a baby. You'll turn into a flobberworm on your next birthday –"

Hermione gasped.

"-unless you marry the man we promised you to!"

"Stop right there," said Ron, "Hermione is an independent woman, she won't marry someone just because you say she should! And women aren't possessions to be 'promised' or given away! We'll find a way to break the curse and free Hermione!"

"That's right!" said Hermione, "But, just out of curiosity, who was I promised to?"

The portrait sighed.

"Draco Malfoy,"

"I'm in!" squealed Hermione.

"Oh, snap," said the statue opposite the group, as Harry began to weep.

***

A/N: This is a very short chapter, and not at all what you deserve after such a long time of not updatingness. I am suffering writer's block (now I know how McGee feels). My poor little notebook only has a paragraph about Hermione screaming left in it. Sad, sad times. Anyway, if you can find it in your hearts, please review and suggest what you'd like to see happen next. And I shall go and attempt to find out why Hermione is screaming. Yours, TLLL.