Chapter 5. – "It's the Nature of the Breed"
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Neville asked, sounding much more calm and composed than he felt.
Draco smirked and leaned against a wall, crossing his ankles as he did so. "You'll find out." The blond-haired Adonis grinned evilly and gave him a shrewd once-over. "Come with me...we have some things to discuss."
Neville knew that Malfoy was up to no good. The Slytherin had even told him so, though he would never admit to it being "no good." Draco had something up his sleeve, and it had required Neville going to Muggle London with his gran, and running errands for his partner under the pretext of shopping for Hermione. Malfoy had given him a list of things to get; and what was more dubious, was when he furtively stuffed a bag full of Galleons into his hands to pay for everything. This was an anomaly if he'd ever seen one.
So here he was, sitting in the now vacant library (he had seen Hermione and Professor Snape leaving a while ago) watching Draco Malfoy study one of his purchases. Just how the book "The Skeleton and Mechanics of the Modern Automobile" would help, he hadn't the foggiest idea...but it could mean nothing but trouble.
Oh he had confronted the ferret-faced blonde and told him he wouldn't help him cheat in any way, but he had merely smirked evilly and convinced him otherwise. "Dumbledore said no magic, and I'm not using magic. I'm just being resourceful in a time of limited options, Longbottom."
"But that would be cheating if you -"
"Nonsense," Draco broke him off, "it's obvious that we're the underdogs, so it's expected of us to try and even the odds."
"But you're not allowed to sa –"
"Look, I didn't want to be paired with you for a partner! But I'm not going to let Potter win, no matter who I'm stuck with. It's not cheating, so get over it, because I need your help..."
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The meeting with Madam Hooch had gone smoothly enough, and there were no foreseeable problems as of yet. They had met on the Quidditch pitch and discussed what their plans were for the race. The finals were in two days, and the testing stretched out for the entire week, so planning was out of the question any time after Sunday. The race began the morning after the Leaving Feast, and no monumental planning could occur then, either. Harry had basically done what mostly every other team was doing: hiring a taxi (or, in Malfoy's case, a limousine) to get them from the middle of nowhere to London. A costly trip, but it would be worth it. Madam Hooch and Harry had traveled to Hogsmeade where they exchanged some of their own money for Muggle currency. They weren't getting the 100 Galleons promised by Dumbledore until the start of the race, and by that time, it would be too late.
At Gringotts, they happened to spot the other teams there. Neville was standing in line, holding a large purse that was filled to the brim with gold Galleons, and Harry wondered where he had obtained that money, for surely Draco wouldn't have trusted him with that amount. He also saw Hagrid being helped by a teller, who was picking up silver Sickles, golden Galleons, and a few Knuts here and there that had been spilt from one of Hagrid's numerous pockets. The poor goblin (an obvious new recruit) frantically chased a rogue Sickle around behind the counter as it rolled around in circles.
Yet, now that he thought about it, Harry failed to see either Hermione or Snape. He wondered where they were, since all of the teams were here in Gringotts for clearly the same purpose. But he didn't have too long to ponder this, as the customer ahead of him finished his business, and the goblin called a menacing "NEXT!".
Harry thumbed through the wad of cash he now held in his hand, and he couldn't help but take a long sniff...he had always loved the smell of paper money. Ever since he was nine when Mr. Dursley accidentally left his pocket change in the car when he left young Harry in the back seat while the family went into the theatre to watch a movie. He was surprised by the fee Gringotts had. It was known that five British pounds equaled a Galleon, but the extra charge had lowered it to three and a half per Galleon. "What a jip," he said miserably as he and Hooch prepared to go back to Hogwarts.
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"Do pick your feet up, child. It's hard enough to be seen with a know-it-all student with hair that resembles the business-end of a broom, but one that shuffles her feet will not be acceptable." Hermione was about to point out that it was nearly impossible for one to shuffle their feet when trying to keep up with someone who walked so fast, but thought better of it.
"Yes, sir," she mumbled moodily. They were now in London, and Hermione was counting the minutes until she could go back to Hogwarts.
"Remind me what we are after," he said, turning a corner sharply to allow his cape to billow dramatically behind him. It took her several seconds to catch up and match his pace after the turn.
"I know a place where we can exchange our wizarding money for Muggle currency." Snape stopped short, forcing Hermione to double-back.
"You stupid girl!" he spat venomously, "that could be done easily enough at Gringotts! Instead you've wasted my time by bringing me all the way into bloody London!" He turned to go, and Hermione felt a string of panic go through her. Her hand shot out of its own accord and grabbed his forearm, forcing him around to face her.
"But Professor –"
"Unhand me this instant, impudent girl! Ten points from Gryffindor for manhandling a teacher!"
"Sir, I don't think you understa–"
"We're leaving. Come with me." He turned started walking off.
"PROFESSOR!" she screeched, causing passersby to stop and stare at her outburst. Snape's shoulders hunched as he froze. The look on his face would have been enough to send most students into catatonic shock, but it had little affect on Hermione, who was just as upset. "Let me explain," she said, tucking a wayward strand of curly hair behind her ear. "I know a place that can exchange our money for no charge. We also need to buy several Muggle instruments that can help us greatly on our journey."
Snape looked angry that he had to say, "Keep talking."
"Have you ever heard of a GPS unit? or sleeping bags?" Severus' lip turned upward in a nasty sneer. Hermione sighed loudly. "Follow me, sir."
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"How are you going to do it with those tools, Malfoy?"
"Don't worry your pretty little head, Longbottom. Just do what I say."
"But I don't know how to work a telephone!"
"Figure it out, fool! We haven't much time. Just arrange the darn limousine!"
"You're not going to hurt anyone, are you?"
"Of course not! How long do you expect Dumbledore would keep me in the race if I did? Now hand me that crowbar...no, that other one...the one with the curve at the end."
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"Harry?"
"Mmm?" came his muffled reply. The unruly hair stuck out from two pillows on the couch. Ginny plopped down next to him.
"Great news! Guess what!"
"What?" he asked, emerging from the mountain of red pillows that were so plenty in the Gryffindor common room.
"Just guess!"
"I can't guess, just tell me, Ginny." The red head stuck out her bottom lip in a pout.
"That's no fun." Harry gave her a look. "Fine. I'm coming with you on the race!" There was an awkward silence where Harry did not jump up and down and squeal in excitement, as Ginny had expected he would.
"What?" he asked.
"I said I'm coming with you and Madam Hooch when the race starts! Dumbledore assigned me as the official reporter to cover the story! I got to pick a team to follow, and yours was the best one! Isn't that wonderful, Harry?" Contrary to his inward glee, Harry merely smiled and congratulated her calmly. In his mind, he was doing back handsprings, but he would be un-cool if he ever let her know that.
Extremely disappointed, Ginny excused herself and went to her dorm. She wanted Harry to be at least a little excited that she was coming with him...but she would be un-cool if she ever let him know that. Ginny would find a way to make Harry appreciate that she was accompanying him...one way or another.