Disclaimer: recognisable characters from the Potterverse belong to J K Rowling and Warner. If you didn't already know this, welcome to Earth and I have a bridge to sell you.
A/N: Help! I'm getting lost within my own fanfic! If you spot any plotholes, please point them out to me and I'll tidy them up in the rewrite. Special thanks to Whitehound, who's been doing this all the way through.
ooOOoo
Chapter 80
There was something he was meant to be doing, Harry was sure of it. He lifted his head from his hands, blinked and leaned back in his chair, realising he wasn't alone. On his left was Hermione, steadily wading through a mountain of books. Harry nodded. Books. Books were why he was here. He felt his tension ease.
Ignoring the siren call of the mountain of books, Draco was staring into space, twisting a quill between the fingers of one hand. With the other he restarted that same rhythm that had woken Harry. His grey eyes were a little too wide.
Trudi Ricci was sitting near the door, her hands folded primly in her lap. She was the only one in the room not wearing a cloak. Maybe she was researching something not cloak-based. Or she was going to write a paper on tropical plants. That seemed likely. She seemed to be listening for something, because her eyes were shut and her entire stance bristled with alertness. Elmsworthy seemed to be deep in thought, so probably was. As for Ron, Ron was staring at Harry with a puzzled expression that more likely than not mirrored Harry's own.
"Have you found the book?" Harry asked him.
"Nope. I'll keep looking." But Ron didn't stand up. He merely transferred his gaze to Hermione, who was opening up book after book, testing each one out by sniffing the pages.
They weren't in the Library. They weren't in any of the common rooms. Harry thought they might be in a classroom somewhere. The door was shut and it was very quiet. There was food on another table. His stomach growled. It was lunchtime. Or dinnertime. Maybe it was time for breakfast.
Probably not lunch or breakfast, because it seemed to be getting darker outside. Wasn't dinner the one you were supposed to eat in the evening? Yes it was. Harry beamed, pleased at reaching his very own shiny conclusion.
The mountain of books kept drawing his eye. He was supposed to be doing something. It must be the books. Was he supposed to read them by smell like Hermione? That was a little out of his league.
Outside the narrow window, the sky was definitely darkening. Unless it was definitely lightening. Harry wasn't entirely sure. His heart took fright at something and hammered and he shook like the Whomping Willow in a temper and wrapped his arms around himself so tight that he could barely breathe for a moment, but the sight of the pile of books calmed him again. He released himself from his hug and took one of the books and stroked it, cradling it to his chest and whispering to it that it was safe, everyone was safe, there was nothing to be worried about.
Whatever he was meant to be doing was probably important to someone, but that someone wasn't Harry Potter. Harry Potter only had to stay with the books.
It was nice not being the someone who had to worry. Very calming.
Harry picked up another book in case it wanted to be friends with the one he was holding.
"Has anyone found anything yet?" he asked.
Draco looked across at him. His pale eyes were unfocussed and his hair wasn't as firmly slicked back as usual. A lock hung limply over one eye. It gave him a lost air.
Hermione glared at Harry. "I've almost got it. I know I have." She thumped a book closed, making Ron jump. "It's here. But I've lost it. You distracted me, you cretin." She itched her nose on the back of her hand. "Why won't anyone take these books seriously?"
Then she burst into tears.
"WAAAHHHH!" she wailed.
They stared at her. Even Elmsworthy had his attention caught away from whatever realm it had been delving into. Harry kept thinking how odd it was that Hermione could cry like this. He'd never seen anything like it, not since Dudley had been told he couldn't have a third slice of passionfruit cheesecake. "It's okay. As long as we stay with the books we'll be fine." He glanced at Ron for confirmation.
"Are you going to cry, too?" Ron asked.
Harry pondered this. "I don't think so. Should I?"
"Yes," said Draco in a soft, fierce voice. His eyes remained vague and his thin shoulders slumped. "We've lost something. Isn't that worth weeping over?"
Harry frowned. "I can't remember how to weep."
"Emotional triggering of tear ducts and arrhythmical breathing," Elmsworthy said. "Ask Granger. She's going great guns. But I think I've lost the trigger. Did anyone see where I put it?"
"Not me," said Draco. "I lost my sight once, you know." He held his hands in front of his face. The sight of them seemed to comfort him. For the first time his gaze sharpened. He peered closer at his fingernails. Perhaps he'd find something there, although Harry didn't want to be informed when he did. Yuck.
"Oh," said Harry. "I can't remember what I lost. Is it getting darker outside?"
"Yes," said Elmsworthy.
"Then I think I've lost the day."
"Was it a day you needed?"
Harry turned to Ron, who'd asked the question. "Probably not. Not if I lost it."
"For want of a nail, the shoe was lost," Elmsworthy told the room. "For want of a shoe, the… the… the thingy… the beast of burden was lost. For want of a beast of burden, the knight was lost. For want of a knight, the battle was lost. For want of a battle, a kingdom was lost. All for want of a beast-of-burden-shoe nail." Harry and Ron nodded appreciatively. Elmsworthy tilted his head and examined Hermione across the table.
Hermione had stopped wailing but she hadn't quite finished crying. Tears streamed down her face and dripped from her nose and chin. She blew her nose on the hem of her cloak. Maybe that was why they were wearing them – special absorbent qualities for nose-blowing.
Harry scratched his ear. He really should ask Elmsworthy how long these things were meant to take for girls, although he was still trying to remember if he'd recently lost a nail for a shoe for some sort of animal. In a vague way he sensed he had. "Aren't you done yet?" he said to her.
She sniffled and looked puzzled. "I am now."
"What did you lose?" Elmsworthy asked her. He took out a sheet of paper and a pencil from a drawer. "I'll take notes, shall I?"
They all nodded energetically. Taking notes sounded like a smashing idea.
Hermione wiped her face. They sat mute for a long while. Perhaps they had lost the ability to speak.
"La, la, la," said Harry, just to test the theory. "Oh, I can still speak."
Everyone nodded.
"Like Harry, I can't remember what I lost," Hermione said, breaking the silence that followed Harry's experiment. Other than a slight husk to her voice, it was as if she'd never lost control.
Elmsworthy nodded. 2x can't remember he wrote. Major memory loss symptomatic of head trauma. His writing was scratchy and the ink weak. It reminded Harry of something. He looked at the books, but none were slim enough to prod the memory he sensed lurking just below the surface of his consciousness.
"I lost my friend." He was very pleased he could still speak, though. That was nice. He smiled.
Ron peered around the room. "Which friend?"
"The friend who was a badger."
Badger friend gone Elmsworthy wrote. Possibly insane and institutionalised for the public good.
"You have a Hufflepuff friend?" Draco seemed offended by the idea.
Harry ruffled his hair. "I have another friend. But… I think I lost him, too." He looked out the window. Yes, he was pretty sure the sky was getting darker. The darkness was reaching into the room. He hunched his shoulders and edged closer to one of the lamps. "He fell into a dark place." Someone was tapping their foot. The noise was irritating. Harry looked down and realised it was him.
The hair on the back of his neck began to prickle. Someone was watching him. Was it the friend he'd lost?
No. It was a portrait that was staring at him. The picture showed a sallow man with short brown hair and brown robes heavily trimmed with fur. There was even a heavy gold chain around his neck. He looked like a mayor. When he met the man's gaze, the man sniffed and pretended Harry wasn't that interesting after all. Not very friendly of him, Harry decided. Had the portrait lost his manners?
Over by the door, Trudi opened her eyes. They burned. She certainly hadn't lost the ability to be angry, Harry thought, and looked away because she was making him uncomfortable.
"Maybe he's fallen into one of these books," Hermione said brightly.
Harry scratched his chin. This seemed plausible.
"Rubbish," said Draco. "You won't find him inside one of those books."
Harry wilted. "Why not?"
Draco waved a haughty hand. "Because none of them are biographies, you twit."
That was sensible, too. But… "Are any Potions texts?"
Elmsworthy stabbed the point of the pencil against the paper and eyed the books with interest. "Potions rock my world," he informed them solemnly.
"Granger will find a Potions book if one is there." Draco went back to staring into space. One hand began to drum on the table. Someone should tell him how annoying that sound was, Harry thought. It sounded like galloping.
Hermione began to cry again. Luckily she kept the decibel level down, which was considerate of her. They watched her until she sniffled and wiped her eyes and went back to flicking through the books as if nothing had happened.
The sky outside got darker.
"Does it make a difference if it's a Potions text?" Elmsworthy asked. His pencil drew a question mark. After the question mark it began to spell out letters. An S. Then an O. Then another S. The letter triplet repeated until he looked down. An expression of surprise settled on his face. "Strewth. I wonder if I've lost my mind."
"No. Hands are very clever," Draco reassured him, peering over his shoulder. "What does 'Sossossossos' mean?"
"I've lost the memory of what it means."
"It means we need help," said Trudi speaking for the first time in the high, brisk voice she used when she was nervous and trying to overcompensate. How strange that she was here. Perhaps she had lost her way. "In fact, now would be a good time to get help." She raised her voice on the last word. "Welcome to the room!"
"Did you lose your mind?" Ron asked helpfully. "Hello. Look at Malfoy."
Draco was beginning to perspire and his breathing was thickening.
They watched him as dispassionately as they'd watched Hermione. Draco pressed his hands to his eyes. "I should be somewhere," he whispered.
"Me too," said Harry, watching as the blond boy lost his balance and slid off his chair to curl up under the table. "But it looks a bit dusty down there. And there aren't any books under the table."
"Do you think he's going to choke?" said Ron. "If so, I want his cloak. It looks warmer than mine."
"Maybe," said Elmsworthy. "But I reckon it's just a panic attack. I wonder why he wants to have one?"
Hermione began to cry again. They ignored her. Draco going scarlet in his efforts to breathe was vastly more entertaining.
"A Sickle that he chokes to death," said Ron.
"You're on, bluey," said Elmsworthy.
Trudi made a noise and came over to crouch by Draco. She stroked his hair. "It's all right," she whispered. "We need to see Madam Pomfrey," she said crossly to the portrait. "Look, Dumbledore's well away by now. Hasn't this farce gone on long enough?"
"It will go on until midnight," she was told icily. "Professor McGonagall will be delivered a note at that point, and she will come and release you."
Draco whimpered, but he was taking more normal breaths now.
("Hah! You owe me a Sickle!" "Hey, he could still choke to death…" "So I have to wait and see if he dies from choking to death?! He could live to be a hundred!" Elmsworthy appeared outraged by the idea. Ron folded his arms smugly.)
"Shut up, you vultures!" Trudi shrieked at them. (Ah, thought Harry: she's lost her temper.) She turned to the portrait. "Midnight? That's not early enough. Welcome to the room!" Trudi shouted. Nothing happened although the painting was beginning to look uneasy. As for Trudi, she looked ready to panic. Much like Draco. Harry felt something churn in his stomach. He should be somewhere… and it was getting dark outside so fast now…
"Why'd you call me bluey?" Ron asked.
"You've got red hair." Elmsworthy's expression suggested Ron was a fool for asking.
Draco tried to stand up but his legs wouldn't co-operate. They wobbled like those of a newborn four-legged animal Harry couldn't quite remember the name of. Draco sat down hard and put his hands over his eyes again.
Trudi took his wrists and forced his hands down. "Look at me. Look at me. Listen to me. You're having a panic attack. That's not unexpected." She took his face between her hands, ignoring the others as they watched, wondering where this was leading. "Draco. You've had your memory wiped. Everything will be fine." She sat back on her heels and looked around the room. "Hey! Hello? Welcome to the room!"
"When?" Draco whined, ignoring that last bizarre sentence. "When will it be fine?"
"About now," a new voice said, grunting slightly with effort.
They looked over at the portrait. There were two people in the frame now. The sallow man was half out of sight, covered by the bottom of the frame, but his muffled curses could be heard. He sounded like he'd been gagged. Ivy had grown up and around him, effectively bundling him into a cocoon of vegetation. Standing over him, tying up the last strands by hand, was –
"Stephanie."
"Hello, Harry."
Draco looked up. He was still breathing hard but now seemed to have himself back under control. He clung to Trudi's hands. "Is this your Hufflepuff friend, Harry?"
"Yes. Well, not the one I was talking about, but yes, she's a Hufflepuff friend." Harry waved to her. "Hi, Steph."
Stephanie beamed at him, her smile as bright as her robes. Then she looked at Trudi. "All right, dear. It's safe to reverse the spell now," she said. "Just like I taught you."
"Okay." Trudi managed to detach herself from Draco now that he had calmed down again. She stood and looked a little uncertain, but she pointed her wand at Ron's head. "Here we go…" She winced and looked away as she raised her wand for the down-stroke.
"Stop!" cried Stephanie. She sighed. "Look, it's a little bit like brain surgery. Especially in that you need to look at what you're doing. Think of Ron as a subject of the experiment – it helps if you're emotionally detached."
Ron only looked mildly curious. "Am I a guinea pig?"
"Rather you than Draco," Trudi said with that blunt honesty the young Slytherin usually saved up for special occasions.
Draco smirked.
"What's the spell?" asked Hermione, who had snapped out of her tears as fast as Draco had recovered from his panic attack.
"It's the one to reverse having your mind Obliviated," Stephanie told them. "Hush, you." The other portrait was wriggling and making angry noises. She nudged him in the ribs with one foot, not gently.
"Oo, oo, I know that spell," said Elmsworthy, bouncing up and down on his chair and waving his hand in the air. "Should I use it now?"
"No!" howled Hermione. "Noooo! I wanna use the spell!"
"Christ, check out that for a wobbly… make her shut her yap, Yellow Lady."
Hermione wailed, ignoring him, "I never get to use the spells! Harry, make them let me use the spell!"
"Shut up, Granger," Ron snapped. "God you're noisy. You just nevernevernever shut up, do you? For once in your life, will you SHUT UP?"
Hermione shut up, looking hurt.
"Stop it, all of you. Please, Stephanie, help us," Trudi said, half begging, half exasperated. She sat down next to Draco and put her arm across his shoulders, suddenly looking very young and unhappy. It seemed to bring Draco even further out of himself and he took her hand.
"It'll be all right," he said.
She smiled shyly. "That's what I was telling you."
"Elmsworthy, if you already know the spell then you should use it first. Then Hermione can use it. You both get a go."
"Why can't I go first?" Hermione demanded, jumping up and planting her hands on her hips.
"Because I said so. Now sit down or… or… or I'll send you to bed without your supper." Stephanie looked frazzled. She kicked the wizard at her feet again, even though he hadn't moved for a while.
"I'll fix you first, Hermione," Elmsworthy said generously. "That way there's someone on hand with a functioning brain, which we wouldn't have even after I reversed the spell on any of these other doofi."
"That's kind of you," Hermione said.
"Yeah," Ron grumbled. "On behalf of the doofi I'd like to say he's really kind."
Harry's foot was tapping again. He glared down at it. "Shouldn't we be going through the books?"
They ignored him.
Elmsworthy took out his wand, looking at it for a long moment as if he wasn't quite sure what it was for. Fair enough; Harry wasn't sure what use a pointy stick was going to be in sorting through the books.
Elmsworthy must have been able to use unspoken magic, because the spell shot out of his wand and made Hermione's hair bush out like a dandelion clock ready to hit the hour. She sneezed sparks.
She blinked. Then her eyes flew wide open. "Oh, fucking hell," she said.
"'Mione!" exclaimed Ron.
She set her jaw and aimed her wand at him. "Well, see what you think about waking up and finding you've been acting a complete prat."
Harry didn't hear the spell – Elmsworthy was pointing his wand at him and then there was –
– there was memory upon memory tumbling back from the dark corners of his mind sloshing and refilling with images: Harry and Draco meeting up with Hermione, Ron and Elmsworthy to talk about the right time for Hermione and Ron to put the potion on the tree on this side of the barrier and Dumbledore who must have followed Harry finding them there and a sallow-faced portrait whispering angrily about treason and Dumbledore looking old and sad as he raised his wand and said: "Obliviate."
Harry was glad he was already sitting down.
Elmsworthy was blinking and rubbing his temples. Hermione must have fixed him. Draco unfolded himself and stood, murder ticking in the shadows around his eyes.
Trudi –
– "You weren't affected, Trudi, were you," Harry stated, wondering how this could be.
She shook her head. "I'm immune to being Obliviated."
"Thank goodness," said Stephanie. "Otherwise we'd be in a lot of trouble and no mistake – I couldn't have come in here without someone welcoming me. She was coming to see Draco about the election tomorrow and came in on the tail-end of Dumbledore's spell. Dumbledore had to cast the spell on her, too. Good acting by the way, Trudi. You really looked like you'd had your memory wiped."
"Thank you." She didn't look pleased. She was still clutching Draco's hand. "I'm sorry I couldn't wake everyone earlier," she said softly. "But I had to wait until I was sure Dumbledore, Hooch and Flitwick had all gone. And then I didn't want to lift the spell until I was sure Stephanie would be here to walk me through it." She was pale. Harry didn't blame her – she was only twelve or thirteen (he'd forgotten exactly how old) and she must have feared Draco was going to die when he went into that panic attack. It was amazing Trudi hadn't had a panic attack of her own.
Harry shivered. He'd sat there and watched it happen. He looked over to where Ron had gone to sit next to Hermione. Ron looked shaken, too.
"I'm so sorry… I didn't mean any of what I said…"
"I know. It's fine, really." Composed and telling Ron not to fuss, she was perfectly fine, Hermione looked the best of all of them. But her face was pale against her reddened eyes and nose.
Harry knew when she was acting. Only occasionally did she do it this well.
"Why did Dumbledore do that?" Trudi asked Draco. "And why did he do such a bad job of it? I mean, you and Granger…"
"Potter and I were going to stop him taking Simon – er. I'd rather not go into too many details," Draco said. He rubbed at one eye and sighed. "And I don't know why he did such a bad job. I thought he Obliviated everyone when you went back in time, Potter?"
"He used the Sickle," Harry said. "I guess he took his time with his own memories. I don't really know…
"And it's not 'were'." Harry stood up, feeling his blood pump strong in his veins. How dare Dumbledore blank out his mind like that? "We are going to take Simon –" Draco clapped his hands over Trudi's ears and Harry lowered his voice: Trudi wasn't in on all this "– we're going to ride Simon through the barrier. Dumbledore thinks he has to go to Hogsmeade at the last minute," Harry whispered, remembering that last conversation. "So he won't get Simon until about eleven o'clock. Maybe ten to be on the safe side. He said something about Vol- about the Dark Lord having some sort of ability to sense him. Is this true, or another load of bollocks?"
"It's true," Stephanie replied, with a small shrug. "But a bit of a red herring. Dumbledore knows ways and means of getting around Tom's locator spell. His real motivation is keeping you lot here in the castle. He wants to protect you."
Draco took his hands off Trudi's ears and fingered his throat with a grimace. "By sitting us in here and making us freak out over the way we had to finish reading through a big fat pile of books? That's meant to be protecting us? Hang on a mo', what was that bet about me choking to death?" His face flushed angrily
"He thinks he was protecting you," Stephanie said just quickly enough to stop Draco picking a fight with Elmsworthy and Ron.
"He should have a word with my father," Draco muttered. He rubbed his hands together.
"But how is he going to control the horse?" Ron asked. He spread his hands. "I mean, from what Sirius told me and Hermione this afternoon about that riding lesson, it didn't go quite as smoothly as Dumbledore would have hoped."
"Er… Stephanie, wasn't it? Didn't you say Dumbledore has Hooch?" Draco said. He and Harry made eye contact. "She'll help him get Simon saddled and bridled."
"And then it's Imperius all the way." Harry looked out the window. It was very dark now and there was no moon. Perhaps it was the clouds. Far away on the horizon thunder rumbled. He thought of his dream, where Thor in the guise of Lucius Malfoy took Simon. And Remus said that Sleipnir was Odin's horse – and Dumbledore was Odin in the dream. "What time is it?"
"About nine-thirty," Stephanie told him.
So not as late as he'd thought. It was only the clouds making things so dark. "We need to get out of here now. Can you act as lookout?"
"Yes."
"Hang on. Why are you helping us?" Draco asked. He gave the portrait a suspicious glare. Elmsworthy nodded.
"She's a friend," Harry told the room. "She's been helping us all along. Haven't you?"
Stephanie nodded. "Ever since you went back in time, Harry. The Glasshouse wouldn't have given you the Golden Sickle if you hadn't needed it for the aid of Hogwarts. Nor the figs."
"So that's why you're helping us? Because of the Sickle?"
"It was a signal."
"Signal for what?" asked Ron crossly.
Stephanie smiled sweetly. "It was a signal that I was supposed to help you. That Dumbledore was wrong. That the Prophecy was right."
"What Prophecy?" said Trudi.
"We'll explain later," Elmsworthy told her. "After everything's over. I promise. Right now it's important that Potter and Malfoy get to that horse before Dumbledore. Right, Buttercup Lady?"
"Right. Simon will react very badly to the Imperius. Harry and Draco, you must have seen that today after the curse was lifted."
They nodded. "But Imperius going through the barrier –" Harry began. Draco put his hands over Trudi's ears again. The girl rolled her eyes, shook her head to make him let go, then stuck her fingers in her ears and started humming.
Clever girl, thought Harry.
"Dumbledore thinks he's sorted out the problem of Imperius being sustained under a standing magical field. And he has. He's a very smart wizard. But he hasn't taken full account of Simon's nature. That charm in Simon's chest will make him think too hard about what he should be doing while under that curse. It will give him the will to get angry. He seems affable enough when you're with him, but at the base of his personality Simon is a very defensive horse who has had people in authority break trust with him on multiple occasions, and that gives him the capacity for great rage. And when he goes through that barrier, he is the one who is under control despite whatever spell is placed on him to make him submit to authority. He'll realise this and, well…" She spread her hands.
"We'll never see Dumbledore or Flitwick again," Hermione finished. "So Simon really does belong to a wizard if he's got a charm embedded in him like that. How do you know so much about Simon? Doesn't Dumbledore know who the owner is? He must have some idea –"
Stephanie was shaking her head. "He doesn't understand this charm."
"So Simon truly belongs to a wizard?" Draco looked ever more upset by this than the prospect of going through the barrier.
"Yes. He does. I'm sorry, Draco. But that's the price of breaking the barrier – you must lose Simon."
Draco looked appalled, then his mouth firmed. The words not necessarily were almost flashing above his head in bright neon letters, so clear were his thoughts.
Harry wanted to know the answer to Hermione's other question, how Stephanie knew so much about Simon's personality, but now wasn't the time to ask. There were other, more important things at hand. "Do we have to take the Sickle?" Harry asked. He didn't like the idea.
"Absolutely not!" Stephanie looked horrified at the very idea. "That must never leave Hogwarts grounds. If Tom gets hold of it he could destroy the castle."
"We're wasting time," Elmsworthy said.
Ron nodded. "The Slytherin has a point."
"Even the Gryffindor agrees with me."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Enough. Or I'll assign you as Comrade for Inter-House Liaisons, Comrade Tyrol."
"Oo. You're scaring me."
"Okay. Enough. Or I'll ask Milli' to assign you as Comrade for Inter-House Liaisons."
Elmsworthy genuinely looked alarmed.
Draco waved his hand in front of Trudi's face. She stopped humming and took her fingers out of her ears.
"Hermione?" Harry asked from where he was examining the door. The door was locked, of course, and the few spells he knew to open doors wouldn't budge this one. "You're our resident lockpick. Can you open this one?"
Hermione sniffed as she knelt by the door. "… Make me sound like a common criminal…"
Harry grinned. "You're uncommon, trust me."
She grinned and nudged him with her shoulder. "Go on, shove over so I can do uncommonly criminal things to this door."
Draco put his hands over Trudi's ears again, lightly this time. "She's too young to hear about what you do to doors, Granger," he said.
"No I'm not," Trudi growled.
Ron laughed and looked surprised at himself for joking with Slytherins. Even Elmsworthy smiled. Harry felt some of the fury ebb, helping him think again.
Hermione shook her head, unable to stop herself smiling up at Draco. "Some days it doesn't pay to leave the Library…" She set to work. But try as she might, none of Hermione's unlocking spells worked. From the frame, there was a snigger from the wizard wrapped up in ivy. He yelped – Stephanie had given him another kick.
Elmsworthy had had his bandoleer of potions confiscated by Dumbledore (and was seething over it – Harry noted that when he swore over his missing potions he swore like a wizard; the recent lapse into Muggle vernacular had been temporary and solved by the restoration of his memory) but apparently his robes had been specially made for his last birthday, and bottle after bottle was set out on the table, although Elmsworthy sneered at the paucity of choice left to them.
Elmsworthy selected a small phial with a dropper. He nearly smiled fondly as he cradled it in one hand. "This little beauty will eat through a cauldron. Any metal – poof!"
"So?" Draco prompted impatiently. "Those locks are shielded against acid."
Ron shook his head. "Yeah, but the hinges aren't. Right?"
Elmsworthy scowled. Ron had stolen his thunder (or that was the figure of speech that popped into Harry's mind – outside, on cue, thunder growled). "Right."
"It won't go boom, will it?" Hermione asked. "We don't want to alert everyone."
"It shouldn't."
"Does it explode?" Trudi wanted to know. "You're not going to bring down the castle like you nearly did in Slytherin the other morning, are you?"
"Of course n-… Probably not."
Harry heaved the table onto its side, taking pleasure in the way the books scattered. Even Hermione didn't care about them; they were only old texts. She even kicked one out of the way. Doubtless, she felt as disgusted at the amount of attention she's spent on such unworthy specimens.
"Stand back," said Elmsworthy, striking a dramatic pose. "I don't know precisely what this one does. There might be a bit of smoke."
That wasn't a problem: the others were cowering behind the table.
Elmsworthy sighed to himself.
Three hinges.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Elmsworthy shifted from one foot to the other. "Ummm… that's a lot of smoke…"
"You're not going to say 'oops' are you?" Draco said from the safety of the table lee.
"Er… Maybe. Uh-oh!"
He leaped across the room and dived behind the table, curling up and covering his ears with his hands. One mutual shocked expression later, everyone followed suit, curling knees to chests and covering their ears, too.
They waited for the bang.
When it came it was more of a pop-pop-extended-hiss followed by a sliding screech: the hinges melted and the latch bent and dragged through the lock as the weight of the door pulled it out of its frame.
THUMP.
The falling door shook the floor and vibrated the wooden table against the students' backs.
They waited until the noise died. Feeling very brave, Harry stood up first. The hinges had been eaten through. Faint wisps of smoke curled in the currents coming through the door. There was the stink of fading lightning, although that could have been from the stormclouds building up in the evening sky over the mountains. "It's okay. The door just fell down. It didn't explode."
"That just means it's waiting for a more convenient moment." Ron uncurled himself and eyed the twinkling motes of dust hanging in the air. Some appeared to move under their own power, sparkling with little aftershocks of magic. He eyed the door. "It's currently not moving. Fine. Now lets get out of here before Elmsworthy's potion mutates it into something only Hagrid could love."
That seemed sensible. Seconds later the room was silent apart from the muffled complaints of the gagged portrait.
ooOOoo