a/n: Wow, this chapter took ages, I know. My laptop got taken away from me...long story. :(

Chapter 3: Library Adventures

Harry was in the midst of reading an incredibly gripping fourth chapter of Charmed Up Muscles: The True Story of a Quidditch Professional on Steroids when the large grand father clock in one corner of the library announced that it was now six o'clock.

"Oh, for the love of Norbert!" Harry swore colorfully. "When did it get so late?" He swiftly stowed the book back on its shelf and continued to search the library for his 'book about books.' In truth, what he really wanted was a book that could instruct him on how to escape from a castle full of watchful loons, but he had grown quite disheartened after passing 30 whole rows of shelves and not finding the remotest bit of help. Those 30 shelves didn't even begin to cover the library however; it was absolutely huge. In the poor lighting, Harry couldn't even manage to see the ceiling.

Dinner would be starting any minute now, Harry reminded himself, and Dumbledore would be expecting him. Oh yeah, and Dobby would be serving pot roast. Harry sighed.

"I guess I'll never escape from this place," he whispered in despair. "It's gonna be a looong summer." He made to exit the library. It was a big room, but having been there so many times with Hermione, he easily knew by now that the way to get out from where he stood was to walk down the Sports section, take a right on Magical Plants, walk down the entire aisle dedicated to dragon dung, then—

Harry stopped abruptly, and with a sickening sensation in his stomach, he realized that he had no idea where he was. Maybe he hadn't started out in the Sports section, maybe it had been Maladies…. He turned around and raced back down the dragon dung corridor. Looking up and down each aisle, he was extremely panicked to observe that all he could see for meters and meters was a seemingly endless abyss of bookshelves. After ten minutes of racing about the rows, he had to admit that he was lost.

"Oh, great, way to fail in the library…Hermione would be so disappointed in me," he sighed, longingly thinking of his friend and the clever "point me!" spell she had once taught him. Wouldn't that be useful now? Too bad he didn't have his wand.

Just when he was about to scream at the top of his lungs in pure frustration, a large volume caught Harry's eyes that made him stop. It was extremely old and worn, with faded gild along the spine and ruffled-looking pages. It caught his eye not only due to its sheer size, but also because it was almost coming off the shelf, as though someone had just hastily stuffed it in there without pushing it the whole way, and, in addition, from its pages oozed a slimy, greenish substance that sickeningly reminded Harry of something Hagrid had once cooked him as a gift, claiming it to be "a spot o' me average breakfast." Harry shuddered at the memory. Hagrid had never been talented in the kitchen.

For some reason, seeing the book filled Harry with a sense of foreboding. It looked like the kind of book you'd only see on the shelves of the restricted section. Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry gingerly reached his hand out and pulled the slimy book from its place. It was heavy, but Harry managed to cradle it in his arms and read the title, which was also faded gild: Advanced Potion Trouble-Making.

"Hmmm," Harry hmmed to himself. "That title sounds oddly familiar…but different." Ignoring this, he promptly opened the book and peered down to its worn pages. The goop was splashed all about the inside, and gave the book the appearance as though it were bleeding from the spine.

Harry chuckled darkly at the first potion he came across.

Clumsiness Draught:

The drinker of this potion will suffer from extreme clumsiness. Symptoms include tripping over robes, feet, or various other objects, dropping things, loss of deftness, stuttering speech, among other things. Symptoms last generally two hours per cup. Do not drink this potion whilst operating machinery or other silly muggle devices. If erection lasts more than four hours, consult a doctor.

"Wicked," Harry grinned, picturing in his mind a clumsy Snape tripping over his own billowing black robes, blinded by greasy hair covering his eyes, messing up his own potions due to clumsiness….

"Maybe this can be my very own book about books," Harry said to himself, comfortably wedging the book under his arm and continuing to wander about the library, searching for the exit.

Certainly Dumbledore would be worried by now; maybe he'd come looking? Harry envisioned Dumbledore leaping out at him from behind a bookshelf, shouting old wizard proverbs, and shuddered. No, on second thought, maybe he didn't want Dumbledore to come and find him….

As Harry pondered all this, he started to lose track of where exactly he was walking. He had just reached the Astronomy section when he tripped over something rather large. The sound of toppling books crashed about.

"Oh dear, Bonker is hurt, ouch," said a squeaky, scratchy voice that sounded as though it hadn't uttered a word for decades.

"Oh! Sorry!" Harry cried, jumping away and helping the strange figure up. On further examination, he was unpleasantly surprised to see a peaky-looking house-elf staring back at him. It wore glasses that looked like they were made from a wire bubble-blowing stick and an almost immaculately spotless pillowcase. Its large amber eyes blinked at him from behind the odd spectacles for a moment, and then gave a start and began gathering the books that it had seemingly dropped when Harry had collided with it.

"Who are you? What are you doing in the library?" Harry asked.

"Does the master speak to a book? Bonker doubts he is speaking to her…"

"I'm not speaking to a book! I'm speaking to you! Shouldn't you be eating dinner with the rest of the house-elves?"

"B-bonker? The master speaks to Bonker? Interesting, very interesting…" The house-elf took out a sheet of parchment from her book pile and, as though copying down a scientific observation, began intently scibbling upon it: not words, but actual scribbles.

"What kind of language is that?" Harry inquired, nosily looking upon the parchment.

"Oh…" the house-elf blushed and hid it from view. "'Tis no real language, sir…Bonker simply feels intellectual when she writes upon the paper… She feels like a real thinker…."

"I see, uh, Bonker," replied Harry, taken aback. He had never met a house-elf with similar aspirations. "How about you help me find my way out of this library? Then we can go to dinner together. We're late enough as it is!"

"D-dinner!" Bonker gasped. "No good, no, no…. Everyone has forgotten strange Bonker. She never comes down to dinner anymore. All she needs are books to feed her mind."

A house-elf after Hermione's own heart, Harry thought, amused, before saying, "Well, then can you at least guide me out of here? I'm sort of lost."

"Yes, sir." Bonker began to walk fluidly along the shelves, turning here and there, going so swiftly that Harry could barely keep up with her despite his advantage in height. After about five minutes, Harry found himself at the main entrance to the library, to his great relief. He ran to the door eagerly.

"Hey, thanks Bonker!" Harry said. He turned around to give the elf one last smile of gratitude…but she was no where to be seen. Harry shrugged. "Creepy little thing," he muttered, and headed off towards the kitchens.

**

"Harry! Where have you been? I'm sorry boy, but I was just so hungry that I had to start the pot roast without you," Dumbledore confessed, looking at Harry unashamedly overtop his spectacles. "When a wizard is hungry, he is hungry. That one I got from my great uncle Tybalt." He then looked fondly over at the house-elves. "Plus, Dobby here is a marvelous cook."

"Oh, sir!" Dobby went red and covered his face with a delicate hand.

"Uh, yes, well my research was just so interesting, I got a bit carried away," Harry explained.

"Indeed. What was it you were looking up again?" inquired Dumbledore idley, buttering himself a dinner roll.

"Er…uh…unicorn, um, hooves."

Snape smirked wickedly from across the table. "A likely story," he said knowingly. Harry wasn't bothered too much by this snipe however, as Snape had a just taken a sip of milk and left behind a highly unbecoming milk mustache.

"So, Dobby," said Harry. "Do you know a house-elf named Bonker?"

Dobby thought for a moment. "Well, there's a blender in the kitchen…."

"That's not exactly what I had in mind," Harry replied exasperatedly. "Forget I asked."

"You are a strange boy indeed, Harry," deemed Dumbledore with a wink. "Garden gnomes and spatulas must get along together after all…"

No one even bothered to ask what he meant by this.