Chapter Eight: Tickle the Pear

She couldn't be found. Not in the common room, dormitory, Great Hall, or any of the girls' bathrooms. Eventually they gave up; let her clear out her emotions in peace, much to Hermione's objection. Even at lunchtime, Sami didn't show in the Hall. They waited until the last trickles of students had been and gone, but she didn't arrive to eat at all. Hogwarts was huge, with hundreds of corridors that could lead to one room one minute and a different the next. By dinner, the boys had inherited Hermione's worries – she could be crouched in a corner of any corridor, entirely alone and completely lost. She could even be in the forest, moments away from being devoured by some of the beasts Hagrid kept in there. Once dinner was over and students returned to their common rooms to while away the last few hours of the weekend, Hermione, Harry, Ron, George and Fred were chomping at the bit. During dinner in the Hall they had heard Malfoy loudly airing his views from the Slytherin table.
"If she's as smart as the Hat said her to be, she'll have gone home to rejoin the rest of her kind," he said at one point. The other insults thrown sounded along the same lines, but the more he affronted her, the less convincing his despising feelings seemed.
Every other Gryffindor had resigned to their dormitories by lights out, and Sami still hadn't slipped through the common room. They decided the best thing to do was to simply go to bed; sitting around with their wands lit by 'Lumos' wasn't going to help anything. If she had avoided them all day, the last thing she'd want would to find them waiting for her at midnight.

"Thanks a bunch for today, Hagrid," she said, leaving the cabin and treading carefully around the abnormally-sized orange pumpkins that were sprouting everywhere, "You've helped me a lot. See you next lesson, then!" Making her way stealthily to the castle, she checked her watch. It was nine forty-five; lights out would be in three-quarters of an hour. Hagrid, the ex-student turned groundskeeper of Hogwarts, had found her near the fray of the forest that morning. He'd told her of it being forbidden and that she shouldn't flout the rules, but then he realised she was the new student and invited her in for a cup of tea. She had learned of his fondness for fantastic beasts and creatures, his many hazardous 'pets' that he swore to be 'lovely when yeh get ter know 'em!' and how he had started work as the Care of Magical Creatures Professor this year, but had been forewarned by Dumbledore to keep the more exotic animals at a safe bay for now.
After he'd cheered her up, Hagrid asked the reason for her being by the forest that morning. He asked where her friends had been, and she had come to know that he and Harry, Ron and Hermione were close. It was hard not to like Hagrid, what with his jolly disposition and twinkly eyes – she recognised him as the 'tall man' she'd spotted the night of the Sorting.
Everything she'd been restraining, all her fears, came spilling out of her like an upturned jug of water. Hagrid listened politely, nodding with comprehension as she told her tale – how she was plainly ordinary and had been caught up in so much over the past few days that she felt her head would implode, how she had felt like she had finally belonged, but it had all gone awry with the Daily Prophet newspaper article this morning. Hagrid stood up and began shuffling about the tiny kitchen, claiming that 'this needs another cup o' tea'. He then told her of how he hadn't belonged because he too was different, and how Dumbledore was a great man who had accepted him when the rest of the world wouldn't. It was clear he respected Dumbledore tremendously; Sami could see it reflected in his eyes. She was offered some cabbage soup, which he said he had made fresh from the cabbages he'd grown outside. It was a peculiar thing to taste, but she hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch, so Sami managed to drain it within five minutes. After, he presented some treacle fudge – also homemade – which succeeded in clamping her mouth shut. With the help of some pumpkin juice she managed to swallow it, Hagrid beaming at his cooking being enjoyed.

She left the hut that evening with a wonderful piece of advice: 'When yeh feel like yeh heart's been shattered n' broken ter pieces, look ter yeh friends fer help – they'll rebuild it fer yeh, don't yeh worry.'
Everyone would be in their common rooms by now, Sami thought, as she slipped into the Entrance Hall. She decided to wait until lights out to sneak into theirs; despite Hagrid's fragment of wisdom she couldn't quite face her House that night. But with half an hour to kill, where was there to go?
The door to the Great Hall was still open a crack, candlelight streaming through. Upon entering silently, it seemed Dumbledore always left a large candle that stood atop a grand bronze holder lit, even after he himself had left for bed. She sat inside the Hall, looking at the paintings, the enchanted ceiling, and time slid by almost without her noticing. With ten minutes until lights out, she decided to head for the common room. It had been on the fourth floor, she recalled, and was behind the Fat Lady portrait. Trying to follow in the Prefect's path yesterday, Sami crept up the staircases – all were dormant that night, thankfully, and she managed to make it to the unflattering portrait with roughly a minute to spare.
"Cor leonis," she spoke to the Fat Lady, who nodded sleepily and swung open to reveal the deserted and dark common room, save for the dying embers of a fire. It was cold with the windows open; Sami pulled her robes more tightly around her.
She swore she just heard a whisper.
Her body moving purely on frightened adrenaline, she spun 360 degrees on the spot. No-one could be seen – the darkness must be wickedly making her hear things. Startled all the same, she hurried to the girls' stairwell when a hand clamped down tightly on her forearm. Her scream couldn't be heard, there was a hand over her mouth too.
"Sorry – had to be done," a familiar male voice whispered as she was being shambled to a seat – she couldn't quite place who it belonged to.

Nearer the fire it was easier to see, and as her eyes adjusted, the guy moved around to sit next to her and she could distinguish roughly who it was – George or Fred Weasley. Usually she could tell them apart, but it was difficult to in the poor light. George or Fred reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out something very recognizable that belonged to her, something she hadn't even realised she'd misplaced. It was her wand. After Ollivander's, she must've put it in the pocket, not remembering that the robes weren't hers, for she hadn't had chance to change clothes after Madam Malkin's.
"Found it before, after dinner – followed them up to the dorm, but I came back down to wait for you. Sorry about the pounce – you were oblivious and would've ended up waking the whole castle," he grinned.
She tucked the wand in her own pocket and smiled with George.
"You okay now? Ignore Malfoy, he's a slimy git – don't let him bother you. Where were you today? We looked all over for you – Hermione's dead worried – we all were,"
"At the forest, about to go for a walk, but Hagrid the groundskeeper found me and steered me away. He helped me out over some tea and fudge – wouldn't accept it again, mind, Lord bless him," she then realised that all she had eaten that day was cabbage soup and a slab of solid treacle. Her hands instinctively felt her stomach, as if that would fill it up.
George noticed and checked his watch.
"You can't sleep with an empty stomach, and we don't want you to wither away by the first week – follow me, I'll sort you out," he said, standing up and manoeuvring her to the portrait hole. "I know places."

The castle was silent, even the portraits were sound asleep, snoring in their frames, and George didn't even need a light to find his way. Down many, many stairwells they crept, George leading the way without a hint of reservation or worry of being caught. Sami figured he did this often.
After roughly five minutes they stopped in front of a large painting of a fruit bowl. Finger to his lips, George reached out with his free hand and stroked the pear. Sami thought he was barmy, until the pear let out a soft giggle and materialised into a solid before their eyes, becoming, effectively, a door handle. He opened the new entrance and ushered her in ahead of him. The massive kitchens stood before Sami, the only sounds being munches and crunches from the far end of the room. She walked over, letting George enter and close the fruit portrait behind them, to find the source of the noises.
Huddled in a part of the kitchens separate from the main body of gleaming silver appliances and worktops were roughly a hundred small, unusual-looking creatures. Their eyes were huge and bulged from their sockets, their ears took up a wingspan twice as long as their faces and their frames were bony and clothed with a single dirty rag. Their heads snapped up at the sound of Sami's arrival, and the closest ones jumped to their feet – they were tiny little things, measuring roughly three foot high. Sami had just interrupted their dinner, which they didn't seem to be happy about. Their faces brightened, however, when George appeared behind her.
"Mr. Weasley! Mr. Weasley!" they squealed with joy. "What can us be making you, Mr. Weasley?"
"Well it's my friend Sami over here that needs the food, really," he said, beckoning to her.
"Miss Sami, what do you be wanting?"
"Oh, er – I'll just have a ham sandwich, I think," she said, feeling oddly guilty at the creatures' crestfallen expressions.
"With chips," George added, nodding at Sami. This cheered the elves up and a few scampered off to work. Some others began propping cushions around, making space close to the fire for them to sit. They thanked them, Sami amused and slightly overwhelmed by their eagerness to serve, and took a seat.
"House elves," beamed George, "They love it, serving people. Me and Fred go down here all the time – they like to hear our stories of what's going on up above when we visit. Delighted, they are, and they clap their hands and beg for another."

The group of elves that had rushed to prepare the food scuttled back, one bearing a tray holding a delicious-smelling dish of chips and a plate of ham sandwiches with the crusts carefully removed. Their server bowed low as he placed it between them, before backing away to resume his own dinner. Another elf came baring a bottle in either hand – one was the orange liquid Sami recognised as pumpkin juice, the other she had not yet come across.
"Which drink, Mr. Weasley?" the elf squeaked. The bottles looked far too heavy for her to bear.
"I think we'll treat Miss O'Rourke with Butterbeer tonight – you couldn't warm it up for us, could you?"
"Of course, Mr. Weasley, of course!"
A moment later the elf returned with two steaming, foamy mugs, which she laid on the tray before also bowing when leaving.
George lifted his mug and clinked it with Sami's. "Trust me, you'll love it."
She took a sip – it was like a flavour explosion had burst in her mouth. The drink was rich, quenching her newfound thirst perfectly. It tasted like non-sickly butterscotch, and quickly became her new favourite beverage. They ate a few sandwiches and picked at chips, appreciating the food and bizarre ambience, until Sami patted her stomach again, this time signalling she was full. The house elves swarmed immediately, each pushing and shoving to get the chance to clear the dishes. Brushing crumbs from their laps, Sami and George stood up – George pointing out amusedly that the elves weren't much shorter than Sami.
"Blame the ancestors," she replied, laughing, "But you can't talk, you're six foot at least!"
They said goodbye to the elves – who were determined to give them chocolate gateaux – and began their silent journey back to the common room.
After the Fat Lady had been woken up and let them pass, tutting and shaking her head, they headed up to their dorms. It was half past one in the morning.