THE LAST CHAPTER IS UP! :D yaaaaay! It was fun to write! DUH! At long last, follow Harold as he challenges Moldywart for the second time in his life! And saves the day? xD Disclaimers: I do not own HARRY POTTER AND THE SORCERER'S STONE, but I DO own the following: The Alchemist's Rock, Harold's ability to set people on fire, Dunderbore's wisdom talk with Harold, Harold's final visitor (HEHEHEHE YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHO IT IS), the feast celebrations, and Mrs. Weezy's final karate-kick of the book. ENJOY!
Chapter 17: The Guy With A Second Face
When Harold emerged into the final room, he was prepared to meet Snake and/or Moldywart on the other side. He was not prepared to see Professor Quiddle jumping up and down and screaming at the Window of Air Heads.
"What the hell?" said Harold.
Quiddle stopped his manic jumping and screaming and turned around. Harold waited for him to start twitching, but he didn't.
"Oh good, you're here," he said quietly, grinning. "I was starting to think you wouldn't show up."
"What?" Harold was utterly confused. "Is this a date?"
"If you want to call it that," replied Quiddle.
Harold started backing away. "You're gay!"
"What? Gay?" said Quiddle, red in the face. "I'm not gay! That's not what I meant!"
"Yes you did!" Harold was freaking out. "Go away! I'm not gay! I like girls!"
Quiddle was furious. "Shut up, Plodder! I'm not gay! It's not a date! I was merely expecting you to come and ruin my plan! Which you won't!"
Harold stopped backing away. "Wait - why are you - I thought - Snake -"
"Snake's not gay either," Quiddle told him.
"I know that," said Harold, starting to get annoyed. "I meant, I thought he was the one who was going to be here!"
Quiddle laughed creepily, kind of like Uncle Herman laughed when he found a bug to step on. "Yeah, Samuel does seem like the bad guy, doesn't he? Well, he isn't. I am."
Harold laughed. "Yeah right! You're not a villain!"
Quiddle frowned. "Yes I am!"
"No you're not!"
"Yes I am!"
"No you're not! Snake is! He tried to kill me when I played Quippish! That's not nice!" Harold shuddered at the memory.
Quiddle shook his head. "No no no, I tried to kill you. I never liked Quippish, I never liked you. Perfect combo. And I would've killed you if Snake hadn't been muttering that infernal counter curse!"
"Snake tried to save my life?" Harold's head was spinning. "He hates me!"
"Don't we all?" Quiddle rolled his eyes. "Well, whatever, I'll just kill you tonight instead." He snapped his fingers, and chains sprang up out of nowhere and wrapped themselves around Harold.
"Now just stand there and don't move while I continue to yell at this window."
"Like I can do anything else," Harold muttered. Then he realized that he could do something. He had to keep Quiddle talking and prevent him from concentrating on the window.
"I was stalking you and Snake in the forest!" he blurted out.
"That's nice," Quiddle murmured, walking around the window. "He suspected me by then, and kept trying to get me to confess how much I knew. And he tried to scare me. Give me a break. I have Moldywart on my side."
He gave up pacing and just stared into the window. "I see the Rock - I'm giving it to my Master - but where -"
"But Snake hates me so much!" Harold said loudly.
"Of course he does, he had this rivalry thing with your father when they were both in school, but that doesn't mean he wants you dead." Quiddle started poking the window.
"But a few days ago, I heard you crying in some classroom - I thought Snake was threatening you or something -"
Quiddle looked scared for the first time.
"My Master was punishing me for something I did wrong," he whispered. "After all, I am not perfect -"
"What? He was in the classroom with you?" said Harold incredulously.
"Of course he was! He's with me wherever I go! I met him as I was traveling the world -"
"Dude, you are seriously sounding gay right now," said Harold, feeling grossed out.
"NO! I am NOT gay with Moldywart!" yelled Quiddle.
"So you admit you're gay!" cried Harold triumphantly.
"NO I'M NOT!" Quiddle roared, red in the face. "I'M TELLING YOU A STORY! SO SHUT UP!"
Harold shut up, and Quiddle continued.
"I was stupid back then. I thought about good and evil, but Moldywart taught me to think about power. Since then, I have been his faithful servant, but I have let him down many times. He was very angry when I failed to steal the Rock from Stringotts, and had to punish me dearly. He decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me…." Quiddle trailed off, rubbing the back of his left hand nervously.
"You're crazy," said Harold. He remembered his visit to Dragon Alley. Quiddle had been there, he had shaken hands with Harold in the Squeaky Cauldron.
"Where is the Rock? Is it inside the window? Should I break it?" Quiddle was getting worked up again.
Harold got an idea. What I want more than anything right now is to find the Rock before Quiddle does. And run with it, or something. So if I look in the window, I'll see myself finding it - and then I'll see where it's hidden! I'll just edge over, quiet as a ninja, and look in.
Harold tried sliding his feet to the left, but they were tied together so tightly he couldn't move. He tried to wrench his left foot away from his right, but the result was him tripping and falling on his side, the chains clanking horribly loud. Then he rolled down the stone steps and stopped right at Quiddle's feet.
"Uh - nice feet you got there," said Harold quickly.
"My feet are awesome," said Quiddle absentmindedly. "How does this gooey contraption work? Help me, Master!"
To Harold's horror, he heard a soft, snakey voice that seemed to come from Quiddle himself.
"Use the kid…use the kid…"
"Alrighty then!" Quiddle clapped his hands, and the chains slipped off of Harold. "Plodder! Look in the window and tell me what you see!"
Harold stood up, shaking. I'll lie, he thought desperately. I'll just lie about what I see. How's he going to know, anyway?
When he stepped in front of the window, he saw his reflection, pale and freaking out. But then, it changed. His reflection smiled at Harold, then bent down and took off his sneaker. It turned the sneaker upside down, and shook something into its hand. It was a crimson-colored rock. Then, the reflection put the rock back into the sneaker and put the sneaker back on its foot. As it did so, Harold felt something digging into the heel of his left foot, and his sneaker started to bulge. Somehow, he had gotten the Rock.
"Well?" snapped Quiddle. "What do you see?"
Harold screwed up his face. "I, uh - I see myself as the leader of a famous rock band!"
"What?" Quiddle looked suspicious.
"Wait - now it's changing - now I'm throwing Snake off a mountain! No, now I'm throwing Justin Bieber off a mountain!"
"Who's Justin Bieber?" asked Quiddle, confused.
Harold groaned. "You don't want to know. Now if that's all you need me for…." He started to back away.
"He's lying, you idiot!" snarled the snakey voice.
"Plodder, get back here and tell the truth!" Quiddle looked ready to explode.
The snakey voice spoke. "Let me face him…"
"Master, you can't! You aren't strong enough -"
"I am strong enough…for this…"
Harold felt as though Quiddle had chained him to the floor, but he was just so terrified he couldn't move a muscle. He watched Quiddle slowly unwrap his turban, letting the cloth fell to the ground. What was he doing? Then he turned on the spot, and Harold saw…the back of his head.
"What are you showing me the back of your head for?" he protested angrily. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
"I did?" said Quiddle. "Good! That's what I was aiming for!"
"You idiot!" hissed the voice. "Just let me face him!"
Quiddle held up his left hand and thrust it towards Harold. At first Harold couldn't see anything, and wondered whether he should slap Quiddle to make sure he wasn't going insane or not. But as he looked, the skin on his palm began to move. Harold's insides froze as a small, yet terrifying face forced its way out of Quiddle's hand. It was as white as chalk, had piercing red eyes, and slits for nostrils, just like a snake. And as if that wasn't bad enough, it also had a wart on its left cheek.
"Hello, Harold Plodder," the voice hissed.
"Hey," said Harold, trying not to flee. "You have a wart on your face."
"WHY DOES EVERYBODY MENTION THAT?" roared the face.
"Because it's so gross!" Harold started backing away.
"I'll tell you what's gross," the face snarled. "Having to live inside Quiddle's sweaty hand, that's what!"
"Hey!" yelled Quiddle, but the face ignored him.
"Quiddle drank pegasus tears for me in the forest, as you saw," it continued. "It has strengthened me…I am able to share a body with a host, but I cannot sustain one on my own…but I will have one, once I have the Juice of Life…now, why don't you give me that Rock in your sneaker?"
He knew. Harold stumbled backward, but Quiddle followed him, still holding up his hand like a possessed person.
"Don't be an idiot," snarled the face. "You cannot escape me…if you refuse to give me the Rock, you'll end up just like your parents, who died begging for mercy -"
"You LIAR!" roared Harold, finding his voice.
"Ah, you're brave, I see," hissed Moldywart. "I value bravery…you father did put up quite a courageous fight, it's true…but your mother didn't have to die…she died protecting you from me…now give me the Rock, unless you want her to have died in vain."
"NEVER!"
"GET HIM!" roared Moldywart, and Quiddle lurched forward, grabbing Harold's wrist with his other hand. Harold's scar seared with white hot pain, but despite that, he got an idea. He raised his other arm and pinched the hand that was holding onto him.
Quiddle yelled and let go, and the pain in Harold's scar faded a little. Harold looked at Quiddle and saw him staring at the place where Harold had pinched him. It was red. No, it was smoking. No…it had caught on fire!
"YOU IDIOT! GET HIM! NOW!" Quiddle lunged for Harold but this time he was ready. He managed to get in five good pinches before he pulled away, screeching with pain. These marks caught on fire, too.
"Master - he's setting me on fire!" cried Quiddle, staring at the little plumes of flame uncomprehendingly.
"I DON'T CARE! KILL HIM!" screamed Moldywart. Quiddle whipped out his wand and was about to yell a curse when Harold, on instinct, leaped up and pinched his face all over. Quiddle howled and pushed him off. The pain in Harold's scar increased, but all Harold could think of was to make Quiddle feel so much pain that he wouldn't be able to utter a curse. Harold grabbed onto his arm with both hands and pinched, pinched faster and harder than he ever thought possible. The pain increased - Quiddle tried to throw him off - pinching - Quiddle on fire - "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" - "Harry! Harry!"- falling - falling - falling - blackness.
Something gold glinted above his head. The Golden Squish! Harold tried to catch it, but his arms were too heavy.
He blinked. That wasn't the Squish…it was a pair of half-moon glasses. Weird.
He blinked again. Albert Dunderbore was leaning over him, so close that their noses were almost touching.
"AAAAHHHH!" yelled Harold, jumping a few feet.
"Harold! You're awake!" cried Dunderbore, pulling up a chair.
"I am now," gasped Harold, feeling his heart beating about a hundred miles an hour. "What - why were you staring at me like that?"
"Oh, I wanted to see what you would do when you woke up," he said matter-of-factly.
"O…kay…" Harold pushed himself into a sitting position. His whole body felt like it got KO'd by Mrs. Weezy. Then suddenly, he freaked out again. "Professor! The Rock! You have to - Moldywart - the Rock! Quiddle has - you've got to -"
"Good grief, Harold, calm down!" said Dunderbore. "Quiddle doesn't have the Rock."
"Then who has it?" asked Harold.
Dunderbore looked up at the ceiling. "The stars have it, Harold."
"What?" Harold stared at him, then suddenly noticed something he hadn't before. "CANDY!"
"Yes, you're homies left you quite a stash of multicolored sweets, didn't they?" said Dunderbore, waving his arm towards the pile of candy on the bedside table. "I believe it was the Weezy twins that tried to send you a banister from one of our staircases. Unfortunately, Madam Ponchee thought it was quite against the rules, so she took it away."
"Aw man!" said Harold. "But Dunderbore…where's the Rock?"
"Even candy couldn't distract you!" Dunderbore laughed. "Okay, I'll spill. Quiddle couldn't take it from you. I got there just in time to pull him off of you. But you were doing a superb job on your own!"
"So you got Heidi's message?"
"I did. But as soon as I touched down in Boston, I heard a little voice inside my head yelling at me to go back to Pigzits." He grinned. "And as I flew back, I crashed into Heidi's owl. I took it to Hagger to revive. I hope he doesn't sit on this one."
"So - you pulled him off me," said Harold, struggling to put everything together.
"Yep. I was afraid I came too late," Dunderbore replied.
"You almost did, I could barely keep Quiddle away from the Rock much longer -"
"No no no, not the Rock, you. All that resisting pretty much killed you. As for the Rock, it has been destroyed."
"Destroyed?" said Harold blankly. "But what about Nick Sleighbell? What will happen to him and his wife?"
"They'll die," said Dunderbore simply.
Harold stared at him. "But - do they want to die?"
"Harold, Harold, death is fun! It's just another epic adventure to embark on, you know. Nick and Panini are planning on going mountain climbing in the Great Beyond."
"Uh - okay then," said Harold. He stayed silent for a while. Dunderbore grabbed the Twizzlers off of Harold's bedside table and began shoving them into his mouth.
"Um, excuse me, sir?" said Harold. Dunderbore paused, a bunch of Twizzlers hanging out of his mouth. "Even if the Rock is gone, Mol-, I mean, That Guy -"
"Call him Moldywart, Harold," mumbled Dunderbore around the Twizzlers. "It doesn't matter if people laugh at his name. He's an evil guy, so we should teach him some humiliation."
"Um…okay. Moldywart's gonna try to come back to life in other ways, right? Because he's not dead."
"No, he's not dead, just out there biding his time," Dunderbore mused. "He can't be killed, since he's not truly alive. He let Quiddle die, because he doesn't respect his followers at all. He doesn't respect anyone, really."
Harold nodded, but wished he hadn't because his head started pounding. "Dunderbore, I'm going to ask you some questions, and I want truthful answers."
"Oooh, like a game show!" Dunderbore clapped his hands. "I saw that on Shmuggle TV once. Fire away, but keep in mind that I might not be able to answer some of the questions."
"Why did Moldywart want to kill me anyway? He only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me."
Dunderbore sighed. "I can't tell you that yet."
"Why not?"
"Because. You're too young to ingest that information just yet. You are only a seed just placed in the ground. Let us water you and nourish you, and once you become a beautiful flower you'll be ready to know." He pulled a mini watering can out of his robes and trickled water onto Harold's head.
"What are you doing?" Harold knocked the watering can away.
Dunderbore's eyes widened. "You've knocked away the Watering Can of Fate. Mother Nature will curse you, Harold Plodder! You'll never be able to grow any eggplants for the rest of your life!"
"What? I hate eggplants!" Harold was so confused.
"CURSE YOU, HAROLD PLODDER! Now, any more questions?"
"Uh - what? Oh…oh yeah! Why did my epic pinching skills cause Quiddle to catch on fire?"
Dunderbore laughed. "That was so totally awesome, by the way. Both your mother and father had epic pinching skills, too. They got passed down to you. That's called genetics. But the fire part came from your mother. Since she died to save you, she gave you protection from the evil people. Moldywart knows nothing about the power of love. He knows about the power of hate and killing, which is extremely unhealthy, I must say. Quiddle was full of greed and ungratefulness, so when you pinched him, he caught on fire. The end."
"Sweet!" said Harold. "But who gave me the Invisibility Blankie?"
"Ahh, the Blankie!" cried Dunderbore happily. "Your father left that with me before he died. Pretty awesome, isn't it? I think he used it to stalk the girls' bathroom. And steal food. Little things like that."
"Okay," Harold grinned, having no trouble imagining another version of himself raiding the kitchens. "How about this - why does Professor Snake hate my father?"
"I have no idea - it's like those little rivalries you kids have, like you and Snalfoy. And plus, you're father saved his life when they were both in school."
"He did?"
"Yep. And that infuriated him. I'm thinking Samuel worked so hard to protect you this year so that he and Jimmy would be even, and then he can go back to hating him without that debt hanging over his head."
"Okay. I have one more question."
Dunderbore grinned. "Just one more?"
"Yes. How did I get the Rock out of the window?"
Dunderbore clapped his hands. "I'm so glad you asked me that question, Harold! This is my awesome hippie brain speaking right here." Dunderbore sat cross-legged on the chair and raised his hands like he was meditating. "You see, only the lucky ducky who wanted to find the Rock, but not use it, would be able to get it out of the window. Don't you just love my hippie brain? I wish I could give it a hug, but squeezing it like that would probably kill me." He reached over to Harold's pile of sweets, sifted through it (which cause a whole bunch of boxes and baggies to fall onto the floor), and pulled out a brightly colored box. "Check it out! Birdy Blott's Every Flavor Gummies! My oh my, it's been years since I had one of these, after someone forced me to eat a frog-flavored one." He shuddered. "Well, let's try again, shall we? Hmm, this one looks pretty nice." He popped it into his mouth, and his face squeezed up like it was lemon flavor.
But it wasn't.
"Oh! Wasabi! Ah…ahhh…AAAAAAAAHHHHH!"
After Dunderbore left screaming for a glass of water, Madam Ponchee let Don and Heidi see Harold.
"Five minutes!" she instructed them. "And Harold, if you want to heal before the feast, you better not move anything but your mouth until then!"
Don and Heidi approached his bed, looking extremely relieved.
"Dude, we thought you were dead or something!" Don breathed. "I was all ready to throw flowers on your corpse!"
"Shut up, Don!" snapped Heidi. "Of course he wasn't going to die." Although she looked relieved too.
"Nope, I'm still here." Harold grinned.
"Tell us a story! Tell us a story!" Don and Heidi begged.
So Harold began. He told them everything that they had missed - Quiddle, the window, the Rock, and Moldywart. They were a very good audience - they gasped in all the right places, screamed when Harold described Moldywart's appearance on Quiddle's hand, and laughed at how his pinching skills set Quiddle on fire.
"So the Rock's gone?" said Don in disbelief.
"Yep. As Dunderbore says, it's sleeping with the stars," Harold replied, smiling.
"He's insane, isn't he?" Don looked happy that his hero was losing it. "Still, too bad about the Rock, right? I've always wanted to live forever -"
"DON!"
"Just kidding," he said quickly. "Look, Harold, you better be able to come to the feast with us. Hisserin won - you missed the last Quippish game, we got crushed by Gladenstraw without you, but it's all amazing food, right?"
"And eating with your friends is the most important thing," said Heidi, giving Don a hug.
Don looked terrified. "Harold! Heidi's gone sentimental! AAAHHH!" He jumped up out of the seat and raced out, Heidi chasing him with her arms outstretched.
Harold felt almost normal after a good night's sleep.
"Can I go to the feast? Please? Can I can I can I?" he begged Madam Ponchee.
"Professor Dunderbore says that you are allowed to go," she answered slowly, pursing her lips. Apparently she wanted to keep Harold in bed and antisocial. "So I guess you are well enough. And by the way, you have another visitor."
"HAROLD!" wailed a voice, and Harold saw Hagger stumbling in the room, tears rolling down his face. "I'm so sorry!"
"What - Hagger? Why -"
"I told that idiot how to get past Puffy!" he gasped. "It was the only thing he didn't know, and I told him! I nearly got yeh killed! I'll never drink again! I'll live alone forever! I'll never -"
"Hagger! Calm down!" said Harold, shocked and a little scared to see Hagger in such a state. "He would've found out some other way, it's not your fault, this is Moldywart we're talking about!"
"Don't say the name!"
"MOLDYWART!" yelled Harold, and Hagger started laughing - hysterically, it seemed, but laughing all the same. When he calmed down, Harold went on. "Look, everything's fine now, the Rock is gone and Moldywart's gone for now, so cheer up and have a Chocolate Hog."
Hagger took five Chocolate Hogs and stuffed them in his mouth. "By the way, I got yeh a present," he mumbled, spraying chocolate everywhere.
"Really? What is it?" said Harold excitedly.
Hagger took a square-ish wrapped gift out of his coat. "Dunderbore let me take the day off yesterday to fix this for yeh. He really shoulda fired me and threw me down a well, but I'm glad he didn't. Anyway, here yeh go."
Harold ripped off the wrapping paper to reveal a smooth, leather book. He opened it up and slowly flipped through the pages, which were full of pictures. And in each picture were Harold's parents.
"I sent owls to old family friends, askin' for pictures," said Hagger. "I thought you wouldn't have any…do you like it?"
Harold started to cry, and Hagger understood.
Harold was walking out the door to go to the feast when Madam Ponchee stopped him.
"I thought you said I could go?" cried Harold unhappily.
"I did! But you have one more visitor."
"What? Who?" Harold couldn't remember anyone else important that hadn't come to see him.
"He's coming in right now," said Madam Ponchee, and she turned around and went back to her office.
As Harold turned back to the doorway, he saw a man walk in. He had short brown hair, dark skin, and was wearing a suit. He was also smiling. His tie was patterned with the American flag.
"Hello, Harold Plodder," said the man, taking Harold's hand and shaking it enthusiastically.
"Um, hi…who are you?"
"Why, I'm Barack Obama." said the man.
"Who?" Harold was pretty sure he didn't know any Barack Obama's.
"I am the President of the United States," said Barack Obama.
"Oh…Nice to meet you?"
Barack Obama got down on one knee in front of Harold. "Now, Harold, I want you to remember something."
"Dude, what are you doing -"
Barack Obama looked Harold straight in the eye. "Remember - all things are possible!"
"What?" said Harold.
Barack Obama exploded.
"Where'd all that confetti come from?" asked Madam Ponchee, coming out of her office.
"Barack Obama," said Harold, watching the confetti fall to the floor.
"Who?"
Harold ran down to the feast, leaving Madam Ponchee to clean up the confetti.
When Harold got into the Great Dining Room, it was already full and decked out in the Hisserin decorations. As he made his way to the Diffindor table, the hall fell silent, and all the students started whispering and pointing at him.
"It's rude to point, you know!" Harold said loudly, and sat down between Don and Heidi.
"Quite right, young Harold," said Dunderbore from the High Table, jumping up from his seat. "And welcome to the last day of school, all you people!"
A chorus of cheers rose from the four House tables.
"Yes, yes, and before we sink our teeth into this awesome dinner, I must award the House Cup! Here are the standings: in fourth place is Diffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Snufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; in second, Gladenstraw, with four hundred and twenty-six points; and in first, Hisserin, with four hundred and seventy-two."
The Hisserin table yelled and stamped their feet with triumph. Harold noticed Snalfoy banging his glass on the table. It was not a pleasant sight.
Dunderbore cleared his throat. "Now now, before Hisserin gets all hyper, recent events must be taken into account!"
The Hisserins stopped yelling abruptly. Harold grinned at Snalfoy's new nervous expression.
"I have just a few more points to dish out," said Dunderbore, bouncing a little. He turned and faced the Diffindor table. "First, to a Mister Don Weezy -"
Don's face went redder than Harold had ever seen it before. Kind of like a tomato on steroids.
"-for the best played game of Wizard Monopoly Pigzits has ever seen, I award this dude fifty points."
The Diffindors cheered and stamped their feet; Henry was in his element again, screaming, "My youngest brother, yes him, he got past McGummable's giant Monopoly board!"
Finally there was silence again.
"Second," said Dunderbore, picking up a piece of bread and stroking it, "to a Miss Heidi Grace, for being super smart and having the ability to solve riddles, I give her fifty points."
Heidi burst into tears, putting her head in her arms. The Diffindors were freaking out and screaming. They were a hundred points up.
"Third - to a Mister Harold Plodder -" the room became silent "-for pure courage, humor, basically saving the world again, and a bunch of other traits that I'm too lazy to mention, I award him sixty points!"
The Diffindors were screaming so loudly that the silverware shook. They were now tied with Hisserin - if only Dunderbore had given them just one more point…
Dunderbore waved his arm, and everyone quieted down. "Now, listen up, for this is a valuable lesson," he announced, wagging his finger. "It takes plenty of bravery to stand up to your enemies, but it takes a whole different kind of bravery to stand up to your friends. Therefore, I award ten points to a Mister Nelson Wrongbottom."
If someone had been standing outside the Great Dining Room at that moment, they would have run away screaming with their arms over their head, thinking that an explosion had took place. Every student at the Diffindor table jumped out of their seats, roaring, and engulfed Nelson in a purple wave. Nelson had never won a point for Diffindor before, let alone ten. Harold grabbed Don and pointed towards Snalfoy, who was screaming, horrified, and banging his glass so hard that it smashed everywhere.
"WHICH MEANS -" yelled Dunderbore above the noise, for even the Snufflepuffs and the Gladenstraws were celebrating Hisserin's defeat. "WE SEEM TO NEED A CHANGE OF DECORATION!"
He waved his wand, and the green and silver banners changed to red and gold; the Hisserin cobra was replaced with the Diffindor tiger, and the whole Great Dining Room seemed to roar. Harold saw Snake shaking Professor McGummable's hand with a creepish forced smile. His eyes met Harold's, and he knew that Snake's feelings towards him hadn't changed a bit. But Harold didn't care.
As Harold watched Dunderbore stuffing his face with Twizzlers, Snalfoy burying his head in his hands, Nelson emerging from the crowd of people, and Heidi punching Don for stepping on her foot, he realized that this was the best evening of his life.
The exam results came the next day, and both Harold and Don passed with good grades. Heidi, of course, had the highest grades out of all the first years, despite her past mental breakdowns from exam stress. Even Nelson made it through okay, his great Herbology grade making up for his bad Potions one. Don was crossing his fingers that Boyle had failed everything, but unfortunately he passed too. "Well, you can't have everything in life," said Don.
And suddenly, their suitcases were packed, Helga was safely in her cage while Nelson chased Warty the toad all over Diffindor Tower for twenty minutes. Professor McGummable handed every student a paper that warned them not to use magic over vacation ("I always hope they forget to give us these things," said Ed with a sigh). Hagger helped them get their things into the boats, and they sailed across the lake for the last time. They got on the purple subway and spent the journey talking, laughing, and discovering new flavors of Birdy Blott's Every Flavor Beans, finally changing out of their purple wizard's robes and into Shmuggle clothes. All too soon, the subway pulled into Platform Five and Six-Sevenths.
It took a while for every student to cross through the barrier. A magical ticket guard had a way of watching the Shmuggle side of the station, and let the them go through in twos and threes. When Harold asked why, Heidi told him that a whole bunch of crazy teenagers carrying suitcases and animals and emerging from a solid wall would give the Shmuggles nightmares.
"You two are both coming over this summer," announced Don after they went through the barrier. "I'll send you an owl - hopefully he won't faint on the journey or something."
"That'll be fun!" said Harold. "I'll need something to look forward to."
They strolled through the crowd of Shmuggles, looking for their families. As Pigzits students passed Harold, they called out good-byes.
"Later, Harold!"
"See ya, Plodder!"
"Thanks for saving the world again!"
"Still famous," said Don, grinning.
"Not where I'm going, trust me," said Harold.
"Mom! Look! There he is, right there!"
It was Winnie Weezy. She was jumping up and down with excitement, but she wasn't pointing at Don.
"Harold Plodder!" she squeaked. "He's right there, Mom! I heard he saved the world again, look at him -"
"Oh, shush, Winnie, and it's rude to point," said Mrs. Weezy, and smiled down at the three of them. "How was school? Busy?"
"Very busy," said Harold, grinning. "Thanks for the sweatpants, Mrs. Weezy, they're very warm and fuzzy. And the fudge balls were delicious!"
"You're very welcome, dear." Mrs. Weezy grabbed Winnie's hand to prevent her from poking Harold's head. "Did you like how I knitted the name on the butt part? I think it gives them a nice touch, don't you think?"
"I loved it!" cried Harold, imagining what his aunt and uncle would do when they saw his awesome homemade sweatpants.
"Are you ready yet?"
Uncle Herman was standing over Harold, looking furious to see his nephew carrying a suitcase and a large snowy owl in a cage in front of all the pedestrians. Behind him were Aunt Pansy, pursing her lips, and Spudley, looking terrified and clutching his brand new plastic-surgery-nose.
"You must be Harold's family!" said Mrs. Weezy, smiling uneasily.
"If you want to call it that," grumbled Uncle Herman. "Come on, boy, we haven't got all day." He started to walk away, but Don ran over and gave him a big hug.
Uncle Herman yelped and tried to shake him off. "Aaargh - you! What are you -"
"I'M HUGGING A SHMUGGLE! I'M HUGGING A SHMUGGLE!" yelled Don, so that everyone in the vincity turned around and stared.
"LET GO OF ME, YOU LITTLE -"
"Okay." Don let go and hid behind his mother. Uncle Herman started forward with his hands outstretched, but Mrs. Weezy let out a fearsome, "HI-YAH!" and kicked him in the, well, let's not go there. Uncle Herman howled and staggered back to Aunt Pansy and Spudley, while Harold, Don, and Heidi fell over laughing. Finally, they calmed down enough to say goodbye.
"Have a - um - good vacation, Harold," said Heidi, glancing after Uncle Herman and looking shocked at meeting such an unpleasant person. "I hope you don't get in trouble for that."
"Oh, don't worry," said Harold, and Don and Heidi were surprised to see the smirk spreading across his face. "They have no idea that I can't use magic during vacation. I'm gonna have a lot of fun with Spudley this summer…."
TADAAAAA! Ohmygoodness I'm so sad that this is over! Good thing I'm gonna write the second one! :D Thank you for being such an amazing audience (wait, this isnt a movie...) for being such amazing READERS, and thank you to AnnaAza for reviewing every single chapter! :O DEDICATION BABY! YAAAY! and thank you to stuckinadream and Melikecake for the ideas and for being such great buds! Until the next fanfic...TO INFINITY, AND BEYOND! PSSSSSSHSHHHHHHHHHHYOOO! *rises into sky*