Book 2
To Ride the Carousel Again
Chapter 15
All the rights to characters recognizable from the Harry Potter
books belong to JK Rowling or as assigned by her.
I thought the bright yellow footie socks peeping out from
the foot of the hospital blankies looked like basilisk eyes.
Especially as I flicked my feet sideways like windshield wipers in the rain.
When I brought this to my nurse's attention, she assured me I was merely
pre-operation medicated out of my mind.
Approx. 7,500 words
I usually post on Fridays. but the chapter is done, WiFi is available,
and the next four days of rain forecast will play merry hell with the WiFi.
September 1, 1992
Harry had arrived very early at platform nine and three-quarters, and so was sitting by himself in a compartment impatiently waiting for his best friend to board the train. It was a good feeling to be able to see her knowing she would not interrogate him. He was safe until Friday, and today was Tuesday. He could relax. Sort of.
The weekend had passed painfully slowly for Harry. He could hardly wait for the Express to depart for Hogwarts. And most of that was because he was not sure he could stand being away from Hermione for slightly over three days.
Saturday had been the painful part. Literally. Healer Tonks' friend had been free that day to remove his magical core refilling curse. He had floo'd to the Tonks's house right after breakfast.
A curmudgeonly-looking man had rather briskly had him undress and lie down on Ted's examining table before slowly waving his wand over Harry. At the start, he had only muttered quietly, then the mutters had turned to cursing Harry's unknown curser.
There was a painful ripping feeling and then merciful relief. "That's done it. I think you'll like the new you, son."
The two healers exchanged some quiet words, with Healer Tonks suddenly becoming almost frozen in place before exaggeratedly relaxing. Harry stayed under observation by Healer and Solicitor Tonks until after a delicious lunch whipped up by Mrs. Tonks.
Before leaving, he re-iterated to Healer Tonks to postpone sending any of his medical information to Madame Pomfrey. He awkwardly tried to explain that he did not want anyone in the castle to have a hint he was seeing other magic users outside of his very small, tight group at school. Solicitor Tonks eventually firmly told Healer Tonks that a small delay in further treatment would not permanently harm Lord Potter. And that he had perfectly valid reasons for his request.
Ted must have added some of the clues properly because he suddenly assented to Harry's entreaty, and sent him home with a new supply of palliative potions to continue correcting the decade of abusive neglect by the Dursleys.
Only a letter from Hermione that afternoon inviting him and Lupin over to her house for Sunday dinner, and to spend the evening sorting out his regular world financial affairs, kept the day from driving him spare.
Remus begged off, stating that his duplicating of Harry's records would probably set the ministry sensors off, and even though he could explain everything to any aurors that would show up, the official squabbling would draw attention to him through gossip if nothing else.
And, he told his employer, the last thing Harry needed was official attention directed at him and his Facilitator as the knowledge of him being a werewolf was not that deeply buried.
Besides, they needed at least one new Potter post owl for his use as a Facilitator, and today would be a good day to purchase one.
After a nice garlic chicken over fried rice dinner, it only took another two hours, and almost a ream of copy paper to finish off the categorizing of what were now his investments. Turned out Hector was the only one who had remembered there was a copy machine in his and Helen's office.
Hermione wanted to smack herself silly for forgetting that little fact. Harry just shrugged. He had never used a copying machine before.
Eight binders of investments in muggle companies and stocks. One summary binder. One binder of precious metals trades and purchases starting twelve years ago. Two thick binders of tax accounts over the same period, and two for the missives of a pair of large, well-known London solicitor's firms.
It was the summary binder that messed up the magical thirteen subjects from Ypres' original sorting.
Hector turned to Harry. "Do you want a total for what you now are worth? We can go to the office and run a tabulation of the latest summaries on the calculator."
Harry thought for a moment and picked up the binder labeled 'All Summaries, 30 June 1992' and headed towards the hall where the office was. What he did not see was the look her father gave Hermione, freezing her in place. Helen then placed a restraining hand on her daughter's arm and shook her head slightly when the startled girl looked at her.
Hector had Harry sit near him so he could see the glowing numbers in the little window on the front of the machine. "Do you want a printed total? Or just what the machine adds it all up to?"
Harry thought for a moment. "I probably won't be able to do anything with these accounts until the Christmas holidays, and they will change by then. So, no."
Running his finger slowly along the last total on each sheet he entered the numbers.
£258,674.32
£218,448.52
£239,629.06
And so on.
When the ninth number had a minus in front of it, Hector still was surprised as he entered it even though he had seen it during the sorting.
£( -16,304.84)
T£2,034,194.95 ~ [$2,719,163.00 USD, 1992]
Harry looked and looked at what seemed to be a ridiculous total. He could not take it in. That made his brain concentrate on . . "Where did the minus come from?"
"That was an account that bought precious metals. Gold, silver, platinum and whatever. Harry, your mother was very smart, but she bought the precious metals in early nineteen eighty-one at some of the highest prices ever seen. Within a year, the price per ounce dropped to almost half of what she bought it for, and this part of her portfolio has struggled to make the lost investment back. If she had been able to buy in nineteen eighty-three, it looks like she would have made money."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. He could remember Uncle Vernon ranting about how the cost of some metals needed to make really strong or hard drills could go up and ruin Grunnings profit margin overnight. He still thought it had been unfair that he was sent to his cupboard under the stairs without any dinner when this would happen.
"How much is this in wizard money, I mean, how many galleons?"
Hector punched the calculator buttons a few more times. "Looks like about 58,120 galleons Harry."
"That's a lot, even in the wizarding world, isn't it?" Harry quietly questioned.
"Probably. Remus has mentioned that a decent wage in your Ministry is somewhere around two to three galleons per day."
"Look at it this way, Harry. If you managed to spend five galleons per day, you would have spending money for over eleven thousand, six hundred days. Or, over thirty-one years."
Hector made a point of having Harry pay attention to him. "Your mother did remarkably well. Remember she only started this with twenty-four thousand galleons, and a determination not to be destitute if your terrorist Dark Lord had won the war."
Harry blinked at that comment. Apparently, Hermione had been talking to her parents about her magical world more than she had let on.
The two spent a few more minutes talking as Hector tried to explain a short version of compound interest and rate of return on investment. He followed that by what the term taxation of profits was. Harry could see that the muggle government would not let him transfer any of his money back to himself without being taxed, never mind if there was Gringotts 'transference fee'.
And it might be just as bad as the original Gringotts transfer fee they had stuck his mother with.
After an hour or so talking with Hermione, Harry spent most of the evening at home, thinking hard about how brilliant his mother had been. She had covered all the hoops in case the Voldywarts had taken over the Ministry and then defeated the goblins. Even if his dad had not understood what or why she was doing, he had just given her over a million pounds sterling.
"Is that part of what love is?" he thought. "Trusting your partner because you are a team?"
He fell asleep thinking Hermione was someone he could trust like that.
*/
Monday morning, while eating breakfast, Harry had two sudden thoughts. First was that maybe it was time to dangle some bait in front of Tongueripper. He needed to get the goblin to see that working with Harry instead of just tolerating him as an annoying human offspring of those responsible for his fall from grace, could be profitable. Rather than having the young Potter as someone he only barely tolerated.
After all, he needed a way to remove the soul fragment in his head if he couldn't find his supposed soul mate. Goblin curse-breakers might be able to help.
Second, if the bad portion of his Potter Luck was to rear its head, he was going to need help with disposing of the basilisk carcass without being badly cheated. And unless someone hugely bribed Tongueripper, the Account Manager would want all of those gleaming galleons placed in a vault under his control.
And the sudden thought occurred that maybe a Gringotts curse-breaker might be hired to find another way to kill those Horcruxes things. Maybe he could talk to Bill Weasley, and lie that he had seen Malfoy drop it into Ginny's cauldron and when he picked it up after the fight, it felt "bad" to him.
"That way he could let the basilisk sleep on in the Chamber, never to slither out to start killing students again. At least until Voldyshorts got another body and entered . . ."
"SHITTE! I'm doomed to have to enter that damned chamber and try to kill that damned snake!"
After a couple of hours of a self-pity party, he decided not to quit now. So, he had Ypres pop him to the steps in front of the bank, wearing his 'dressed in quality robe and hat' disguise. He made a point of radiating confidence as he strolled through the doors and across the floor to the light-coloured wood appointments desk and requested a short meeting with Tongueripper.
In only fifteen minutes, a young goblin runner had him in front of his Account Managers' door.
After a short round of grumpy greetings from Tongueripper and oddly cheerful ones from Harry, the young Lord opened the conversation with, "I have found I have an inheritance, from my mother, of over twenty thousand galleons in the muggle world. Would you be interested in helping me transfer most of those muggle pounds into galleons in my vault?"
Tongueripper sat very still as the young lordling stared at him. He had just been made an offer that would make a huge increase in the gold in the Potter vaults, it would put him close to having enough Potter gold under his control to become a Senior Account Manager once again in three or four years.
His belly churned once again as he remembered how the bank's senior management had acted after his fall from banking aristocracy. The sneers, the turned backs, the delays when he requested information. Giving him three more accounts that would never amount to much over five thousand galleons apiece. ("See if you can turn these Brotloks into real accounts that could be useful to the bank.) Amounts that would never allow him to climb back into the exalted ranks again. This . . . this . . .
Tongueripper grabbed that spike of hope and buried it deep before it showed on his face.
"Can I inquire how you found out about this golden rockfall, Lord Potter?" the goblin spoke neutrally.
"Remember, I'm muggle raised. I know you have had some unfortunate experiences with the Potter account, but I have found where some of the galleons went. There is a problem with me being able to properly identify myself to the muggle equivalent of Account Managers that I am hoping to solve during the Christmas holiday from school."
Harry tilted his head and steadily regarded the grouchy goblin. "Does Gringotts happen to have any contacts in the muggle banking world that could help with such a transaction? Say, a transfer of some sort in small continuous amounts that would not get the muggle government tax assessors all excited that lots of potential tax money was escaping out of their hands?"
Harry went back to the thoughtful look. "Maybe if the bank has some muggleborn employees, you could get them to tell you how the muggle ministry taxes investments of the type my mother made."
Giving the goblin a small smile, he finished. "We've time anyway. I'll be back at Hogwarts tomorrow for almost the next four months."
He sat back in his chair. "Thank you for your time, Account Manager. Can I get a guide back to the lobby?"
Tongueripper punched a button on his desk.
"Oh, and one last thought," Harry said with no expression on his face and no inflection to his voice. "I would consider a transfer fee of twenty percent to be very excessive. To the point of breaking the deal, excessive. The muggle government is already going to take twenty-plus percent as a withdrawal tax from their side of the divide."
Harry put on a serious face. "It would seem everybody in the world wants to take our galleons away from us, Account Manager."
/*
Next Harry took the Knights bus to Little Whinging. At Number 4 Privet Drive he politely knocked at the door. He was hoping Uncle Vernon and Dudley were gone as it was midday.
When his Aunt opened the door, she took one look and started to slam it shut in his face. Harry managed to stuff a shoe into the gap before it closed.
"Aunt Petunia," he said quietly. "I'm here to talk to you about how I will never have to return here to live, and you will never have to see me again."
His aunt eased open the door and looked at him suspiciously. He could see her curiosity as she took in his new, fitting, and probably expensive clothes.
"You've been gone for a month, boy. What makes you think we would allow you back in our house? We like not having you here. It is calm, it is peaceful, it is normal," she snapped back contemptuously.
Hanging on to his temper, Harry replied evenly, "There is a long-bearded wizard with horrible fashion sense who will force you to take me back unless I can disappear during the holidays from school. If he finds I am not here, he will search for me, and when he finds me, he will force you to take me in again."
"And neither of us wants that, do we?"
Petunia was staring at Harry with a calculating look. "How do you intend to stop him?" she sniffed.
"Simple," he replied. "I just have to live among non-magical people. He'll never find me in Norwich. I have friends there."
Harry stopped to look nervous. "But to do that I'll need all the paperwork you have about me. Birth certificate, guardianship papers, school physicals, inoculation records, and school records. I need everything that identifies me here in the real world."
The last was laying on a bit thick, but Harry already knew she was not the sharpest wedge in the toolbox. He figured his word choice of describing being Mundane as being the Real World would influence her some, and he was betting on her bigotry and hatred of the magical world, and the chance to be rid of him permanently, to finish swaying her judgment.
She told him to wait in the entry hallway and disappeared upstairs. In less than five minutes, Harry had a large manila envelope stuffed with every piece of identification he needed to prove he was a live person and was allowed to attend an English Comprehensive school.
Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO
The door sliding open drew Harry out of his memories. As Hermione wrestled her heavy school trunk into the compartment, a smile blossomed on his face.
"Oh, fair maiden, perchance might I offer you some assistance?"
She shot him an eyebrow-raised, narrow-eyed glare that actually did not have much heat to it.
With a huff, she replied, "Yes you may, sir knight. Perchance thou might need some maidenly help, though?"
"Perhaps. Wingardium Leviosa." She snatched Crookshank's cage off her trunk as it rose, wobbling, but it rose up and a push from Hermione placed it in the overhead luggage rack next to his already battered-looking last year's trunk.
Hermione regarded Harry evenly. "A second-year student with the raw power to magically lift a heavy, book-laden trunk. That's ve-e-r-r-y interesting, Mister Potter."
Harry shrugged. "I've had an almost month of hard tutoring." He was trying hard not to show just how much energy the spell had needed.
Actually, he was thankful she hadn't blurted out 'Lord Potter' with the door being open.
He closed the door and as he turned around, he was enveloped in a strength seven Hermi-Hug. Harry, having his wand in hand, waved it causing the window curtains to close.
The pair stood there, just being with each other for several minutes.
Hermione was the first to ease on the hug. Harry instantly followed, and the two retreated to seats across from each other.
Harry peered at her noticing she was dressed in what would become her almost signature Hogwarts traveling outfit. White shirt, black skirt, tall grey socks, and sensible shoes. Add her Hogwarts robe, Gryffindor tie, and she would be in her school uniform.
"I persuaded my parents to drop me off early as they are still catching up at work. I also reckoned you would be early as you wouldn't want a crowd to gather to watch and gossip about you as you arrived, ' she said, looking pleased her logic had worked out.
Harry grinned back. "Want to help me in my quest to not be a chew toy for any more three-headed dogs we might find this year?"
At her nod, he carried on. "I want, no, need, to reach out to my peers in this world. I did a lot of thinking while trapped at my relatives this holiday, and concluded I need to find allies. And since the school is where I'll be for the next six years, I want to seek out these allies from the other students."
Hermione slowly seemed to shrink into herself.
"Ronald and I aren't enough?" she spoke very softly, refusing to meet his eyes.
Harry was about to cavalierly say that 'no, he needed other people too' when he realized how the almost tear-shedding girl had taken his words.
Quickly springing over to her bench, Harry took both her hands into his.
"Hermione, no one will, or can, replace you. You have shown yourself to me to be a true friend. And there is a large distance between an ally, a school classmate, a school acquaintance, a friend, and a True Friend. You will always be a True Friend to me."
"Well, that's what Erzelkendis said she was. And since she is the only person who has never abandoned me, I hope she is."
Another thought intruded. "In fact, maybe I'm her True Friend also. . .. .. Nah, if I was, I never would have treated her so badly last year over her telling McGonagall about the broom. Guess I'm just a friend."
Aloud he said, "I thought a lot about this over the summer. I found I have family and responsibilities, and I . . ."
Harry stopped. He realized that he was about to start spilling all his secrets, all his new-found knowledge to her. And she didn't have any occlumency defense. Fumbledork may not deliberately read her mind if she just avoided him. But Snivellus, he would read her mind if only to find some new way to torment him.
Hermione felt his sudden tensing. She lifted tear-filled eyes to his gaze.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. But most of this will have to wait. However, there are very good reasons why I need to be better friends with Neville, and why I'm going to try to be more friendly with others. I am going to need allies in this school. Lots of allies."
He sighed deeply. "The days of my being able to slide along, trying to act like I'm not famous, or a magnet for gossip and slander will soon be over. I need people who can teach me how this wizard world actually works. I need knowledge, not everlasting drivel about Goblin Rebellions."
"And how will you gain this new knowledge?" she almost whispered quietly.
He actually smiled at her. "Why from you and your books, of course. Then we pick the brains of any purebloods we can rope into teaching me. Neville, Percy Weasley, Susan Bones. I'll even bet the Giggle- some Two-some from your dorm could be a fount of comprehension about why the purebloods often act the way they do, and how to fake it to fit in."
She frowned as her face reddened. "Why should we have to act differently just to cater to a bunch of prejudiced nitwits like Malfoy? Catering to prejudices like that never solved anything! Why I . .."
Harry placed a finger on her lips, shutting of the gathering rant. "The reason is, young Miss, is that we have entered a foreign country, or world you might say. Simplistically, the only thing we share with this world is an almost common language."
"Their political, financial, and family leaderships are all mired in the early eighteenth century like that book, Pride and Prejudice, you so like. My uncle often rants about how aristocrats, plutocrats, and autocrats run the mundane world.
Considering how mired in the pre-Victorian Age our wizarding world is, they really do run this world.
Most everyone else merely tries to get along without attracting the attention of any one of them, as the results are usually bad."
"And we have been dumped into this maelstrom willy-nilly. Sink or swim. Most people like us sink because we don't learn the real rules that dominate this place."
"I want to not only swim, I now want to win the Merlin-be-damned race."
Hermione intensely stared at him for a long moment and then fiercely crushed him in a new height of Hermi-hug.
She may have been only twelve years old, but the boy she desperately wanted to be her friend had just blown the bugle and waved the flag as he proclaimed he was going to lead the attack on those who deliberately, or unconsciously, claimed she was an inferior merely because of who her parents were.
"Besides, have you ever known Susan Bones, Lisa Turpin, Neville, or even puffed-up Percy to disparage you for your birth? Even your two personal fashion-girlies-from-hell only pick on you for your hair, lack of make-up, and study habits. Not for being muggleborn."
Feeling her tense and flinch a bit at each of the things her detractors flung at her to hurt and make themselves feel superior.
"I felt that," he said gently. "Don't pull away. Do you really think I don't hear the idiots and the Malfoy-types who always try to tear others down? I think your hair is lovely, you're quite pretty without make-up, and you would not be true to yourself if you weren't a bookworm. And I'm proud you've chosen me to be your friend."
That did it. The floodgates opened and Hermione started drenching Harry's shoulder with tears. Harry merely held her, waiting for the shower to stop.
It took a few minutes but she eased away from Harry and dipped her hand into her skirt pocket and pulled out a tissue. Pulling out her wand, she pointed and cast 'Apallium'. She now had a cloth like a large handkerchief that she proceeded to wipe her face, clear her nose, and then vanish the cloth.
"Handier than a wastebasket," he thought.
"I'm sorry I upset you, Hermione," he said.
"You didn't upset me," she replied. "Those were happy tears."
Trying desperately to find a neutral, safe topic, he asked her why her trunk was so heavy.
She gave him a disbelieving look.
Adopting a bad Spanish accent, she said, "My name is Hermiyonee Granger. Prey-pare to unnerstan' my tronk 'as a lot of 'eavy boooks een it."
Harry looked blank for a moment.
"Wait, movie reference? A quote?" At her nod he continued, "Never saw it."
Seeing her deflate a bit, he grinned. "Just had to ask. I happen to know you own a fine-looking backpack that will hold dozens of books and has a 'Featherlight Charm' on it.
Hermione looked embarrassed whilst scuffing the toe of her shoe on the floor.
"That just meant I could bring more books," she said while blushing.
Harry's grin widened. "Now if you'd used the extra space for clothes, makeup, and fashion magazines, I'm sure Lavender and Parvati would have approved."
Hermione went to swipe at his arm but stopped herself before he flinched. "Har, har, Mr. Pot-tar. Just remember that in," She rolled her eyes up as though calculating, "one, two, three days, yes, three days, I shall have my revenge."
She plastered an evil smile on her face and did an imitation evil laugh. "Yes, Potter, soon you will tell me . . . everything."
Harry was trying not to show his dread at what was to come when there was a polite knock at the door.
His "Come in," was followed by the door sliding open to reveal a head of long, wavy blonde hair over a pair of large blue-grey eyes. And Harry was pretty sure that was a wand tucked behind her ear.
"Oh, hello Harry Potter. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I was looking for a quiet compartment for the trip to Hogwarts."
Harry glanced at his cheap-looking wristwatch and said, "It should be mostly quiet for about half an hour. Then Ron will show up sweaty and out of breath, claiming exhaustion from having to rush to get here before the train left. He will then talk about Quidditch, loudly, for the next four hours."
"Do you mean Ronald Weasley? From Ottery St. Catchpole? Will his sister Ginny be here too? She should be starting Hogwarts also."
Harry thought for a second. "Yes, yes, I don't know, and I believe so. I did meet her during a Diagon Alley school shopping day where she bought Hogwarts books."
Luna blinked once and then realized Harry had actually answered her questions. A smile bloomed across her face as she then recognized she was being gently teased. Maybe even in the way a friend would.
Harry smiled back and said, "Oh, where are my manners? Miss Luna Lovegood, this is Miss Hermione Granger, second-year Gryffindor. Hermione, Luna Lovegood, soon-to-be first-year, hmm, I'll guess Ravenclaw."
Hermione took in the cute, waif-like blonde standing in front of her, and for a moment her heart hurt as she saw a cute girl that her Harry was paying attention to. Not only that, it was evident that Harry already knew the girl. When did that happen?
The Luna girl took a long step forward and gave the surprised Hermione a gentle hug before stepping back..
"If you are a friend of Harry Potter then can I be a friend to you, also?" the blonde said in a hopeful voice, looking at her with her also hopeful large silver-grey eyes.
The actions of this Luna were confusing to Hermione. The girl in front of her seemed to be someone like her. Someone who saw just Harry, not The-Boy-Who-Lived.
She spent a few moments looking into those wide, innocent-looking eyes but then realized that they were clouding over as the girl seemed to be thinking that Hermione's hesitation was because she was being rejected. The bushy-haired older girl suddenly had the insight that here was another soul like her, who last year had gone away from family for the first time and was terribly afraid she would not find any friends.
"Without the troll, without Harry and Ron, where would I be right now?"
It was Hermione's turn to pull the younger girl into a hug. "Of course you can be my friend," she said.
She was positive she heard a slight sniffle, and it was a few more moments before Luna backed up, eyes suspiciously watery.
"Thank you," she said rather airily as though her breath was not functioning properly.
As everyone sat down, Hermione opened her cat's cage and gathered the large ginger half-kneazel onto her lap.
"Harry, Luna, this is Crookshanks. Crooks, you know Harry, and this is my new friend Luna."
From the look the half-kneazel gave him, he figured he was still in the cat's doghouse. Both second years were surprised when the big ginger casually leaped onto Luna's lap and demanded a petting.
Getting over her surprise, Hermione looked pleasantly at Harry, shifted to an evil smirk, looked at Luna, and asked, "So, how did you meet Harry?"
Harry's eyes practically bulged from their sockets at the innocent-sounding question.
Before panicked Harry could find his voice, the blonde waif promptly responded. "We met in Flourish and Blott's. Harry was looking for a diary, and I noticed how the Black Chigoulies were gathered around that famous scar of his. I helped him find his diary, and we talked a bit about going to Hogwarts."
"I see," said an unseeing Hermione slowly. "I don't remember reading about any creatures called Black Chigoulies and I've never seen them near Harry."
"Black Chigoulies are invisible worms that swim through the air and feed on dark magic. I usually only see them around bad wizards. They seem to like swarming their left arm for some reason," she ended on a puzzled note.
Over the next half hour, the older two learned that Luna lived near Ottery St. Catchpole near the Weasleys and the Diggorys. (A bit of information that hit Harry hard.) She knew Ronald but seemed to not particularly like him. Ginny had been her only friend until Ginny's mother had stopped letting the two play together.
The train jolted into motion with a scream from its whistle.
Her father was the owner and editor of a monthly gazette that commented on just about everything that was of interest to the magical world, although Luna said, "Daddy likes to write about undiscovered magical species. The Quibbler is at the forefront of Britannia magizoology. We go out every summer looking for new species to discover."
No sooner had she said that than an out-of-breath Ron Weasley yanked open the compartment door, and dragged his battered trunk into the compartment, banging it off the door frame a couple of times, and then pushing and kicking it underneath the forward bench seat.
He then carelessly tossed the cage holding Scabbers onto the other bench.
He then, without saying a word to anyone or asking politely for space, flopped down on the bench between Hermione and Harry.
He did not notice the offended looks glared at him by the now separated duo who had been 'hipped' aside.
"What a nightmare gettin' to the platform. Mum spent the whole mornin' yellin' at us, we had to go back twice for things the twins forgot. Percy was yellin' at them the whole time as he blamed them for his prefect badge disappearin'. Ginny kept cryin' because she suddenly couldn't find her favorite . . . What's she doin' here? Why's Looney sittin' in our compartment?"
"Looney who?" asked Harry in a deceptively mild tone, though his eyes were hardening.
"HER!" the offended redhead shouted, thrusting his pointing finger at Luna.
His arm motion was so violent when he bashed against Hermione's shoulder, he actually knocked her sideways and almost off the seat.
"RONALD!" remonstrated Hermione.
"WHAT!" he yelled viciously back. Then suddenly, since she had not hidden her movement, he saw that she had her wand drawn and was starting to point it at him.
His "Uh . ." was cut off as Petrificus Totalus zipped across the small space between them. He snapped into a plank of rigidity, with only his head against the back of the bench and his heels on the floor.
Luna looked hurt, Harry looked astounded, Hermione wore a satisfied smirk, and Crookshanks looked murderous. Ron did manage to look surprised.
After a few moments, when everybody, especially Ron, stayed quietly where they were, Harry spoke.
"Um, Hermione, did he really hit you that hard?"
"Yes, I believe I'm going to have to take some Panadol (1) to ease the swelling and pain later this evening."
She sighed, "I really don't want to go to the infirmary for some bruise paste. Madame Pomfrey will want to know how I acquired the bruising, and you know I'm a terrible liar. She'll have the truth that Ron struck me wormed out of me fairly quick."
"You're afraid he would get in trouble?"
She nodded.
"So what?" Harry said in a cold, contemptuous tone of voice. "For treating you the way he did, being called on it, and collecting a bit of punishment, might improve his manners."
According to their class spell books, the Body Bind jinx would not allow any movement by the target. However, Harry was positive Ron's eyes were bulging out ever further as he heard just how unfriendly his 'Best Mate' had sounded.
Silence again descended on the compartment.
Harry cleared his throat. "Luna, if you don't mind my asking, do you have problems with other people besides Ron calling you Looney?"
"Not really," she replied after a moment's thought. "Ronald was the only one who did it a lot when we were younger, and my father and I go to very few parties and meetings with other people who have heard him use the term."
Harry glanced at the now flushed red, with bulging eyes, body-bound person next to him.
Harry stared downwards, obviously thinking hard. Hermione was starting to get antsy that she had gone too far with jinxing Harry's oldest friend, and Luna dug out a copy of the Quibbler and started reading it upside down.
Suddenly, once again there was a knock on the compartment door. At the "Come in," Neville Longbottom entered the compartment and started greeting everyone.
"Hello, Harry, Hermione, Ron an . . . ," he trailed off as he realized that Ron Weasley was under the same jinx Hermione had used on him last year.
His eyes nervously flitted across three of the four, looking for signs that someone was going to curse him also. Probably for merely existing.
"Ah, Neville. Good to see you. Think you could give me a hand?" Harry asked into the silence.
"S-s-ure, Harry," squeaked the surprised Neville.
"Could you see if there are any empty compartments in this car?" Harry asked in quite a reasonable tone.
"Uhh, there was an empty one three up from here just before I knocked on your door." Neville nervously replied.
"Capital!" Harry exclaimed. "Could you get ready to open that door for me? I'll be right there."
As Neville withdrew, Harry pointed his wand at Ron and with "Wingardium Leviosa" had Ron floating in mid-air.
Easing out of the compartment he did not see anyone except Neville. Taking care not to bump Ron on anything, Harry eased him out the door, down the passageway, and through the open, deserted compartment door. There he lowered Ron onto one of the bench seats like he was taking a nap.
"Neville, how long were you paralyzed by Hermione a few months ago?"
"Something less than half an hour," was the shaky reply.
Leaning in towards Ron's ear he whispered something Neville could not hear, then straightened, closed the curtains, and exited the compartment.
Pointing his wand at the now-closed door, he clearly stated, "Colloportus."
There was a squelching sound from the door.
"That should keep Malfoy and his ilk from bothering him," Harry said as he led Neville back to the girls.
The rest of the trip was uneventful except for Malfoy coming by to taunt them all.
The blond ferret, as Harry thought of him now, jerked open the door of the compartment and proceeded to do his usual 'you-are-all-beneath-me' pitch.
"Well, if it isn't the looney, the squib, the mudblood and the orphan. Where did you put the weasel? In a 'burrow' somewhere?" He looked massively proud of himself as his lumpy bookends chortled
Harry decided then and there this year would be different from his previous four.
He arose, and stretched some kinks out as Malfoy eagerly awaited some reaction from Potter.
"Tell me Little Luscious, when are you going to get better script writers? Your insults are lame. When you can be awarded one hundred seventy points for an evening's work to win your House the House Cup, come back and talk to us."
With that, he placed his hand on Malfoy's chest and pushed him back out into the passageway, slid the door closed, pulled his wand, and said "Colloportus."
Closing the curtains on the furious, ranting boy, the last thing he saw was the twerp trying to cast a spell to re-open the door. The four of them kept hearing various thumps and bumps from the passageway but that soon stopped.
"Harry!" Hermione half yelled as she wound herself up at what she perceived as an attack by Harry.
Harry raised his hand compelling her silence and calmly said, "I never used magic on him and a push does not count as a punch."
Hermione ran the events through her memory and saw Harry was correct. She sat back with a huff to show her displeasure with his solicitor's view of the rules
The remainder of the trip was uneventful. Harry even solicitously fed the ownerless rat some pumpkin pastie he had bought from the Trolley Lady. After all, Harry needed The Rat alive. He was proud of himself for not feeding The Rat to the part-kneazle whose eyes rarely left the cage.
Having stashed their haul from the Trolley Lady and then donning their school robes just before Hogsmeade, the four of them stepped out into the warm, starry night.
"Firs' Years o'er here, firs' years o'er here," came the booming voice of Hagrid.
"Oh, my. He's a very large person, isn't he," remarked Luna looking wide-eyed at the half-giant.
"Yes, he is," Harry commented. "But for a gentle, real friend, you won't find one better anywhere else."
"Yes, friends," she said with a far-away look in her eye. "I'm really hoping Ginny Weasley will be my friend again also. I haven't seen her in years."
With a thank you to Harry, Hermione, and Neville, Luna headed towards Hagrid, skipping along to the light of his lantern.
None of the three said much as they headed to the carriages only Neville and Hermione had used before. (2) As they started up the hill towards the castle, Harry asked why Neville had not told them about the skeletally thin, winged horse-looking animals that were pulling the school's carriages when he came back from Christmas holiday.
"Umm, Harry," said Hermione in a very quiet voice, "There are no animals pulling the carriages, they just go by magic."
Harry looked thoroughly puzzled. "But they're right there!"
He looked at Neville.
Neville shook his head. "I don't see any weird horsey things either."
Harry huffed and pushed himself deeper into the seat and glared at the front of the carriage until they reached the castle.
Hopping out of the carriage, Harry strode up to the animal standing between the shafts of the carriage. He tentatively put a hand on the black, leathery-feeling skin by its shoulder. Surprising Harry, it was warm. The beaked, horse-like head turned towards him and sniffed at him. Not used to large animals, Harry retreated quickly.
Using every bit of his now fifteen-years-old experience, he said nothing and trailed a mass of students heading for the Great Hall.
He almost headed over to the fourth-year seating out of habit but swerved at the last moment as he saw Hermione and Neville sitting where the Second-Years traditionally sat. He had missed this sorting the first time around as he and Ron had crashed his dad's Ford Anglia into the whomping willow. They then spent most of the Arrival Feast being berated by Professor Snape for their stupidity in stealing the car and being photographed by muggles.
Thinking of Ron, he looked around and saw him sitting with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan further up the table. Ron picked that moment to look up and stared back at Harry, anger showing on his face.
Thinking back, Harry realized he'd just gone along with 'Impetuous, jealous Ron' because for years he believed the redhead knew what he was doing in the magical world. Even today Harry could not believe all the signals he had missed.
Except for figuring Colin Creevy and Ginny would be sorted into Gryffindor, he had had almost no contact with the kids only one year younger than him. He did not even remember any names. That was sad.
That thought led him to the realization that of the older Gryffindor students, he only knew the three Weasleys, his other Quidditch teammates and that idiot who ate doxy eggs. That was even more depressing.
This time around he was determined to be more social. With no Heir of Slytherin crap this year, maybe he could turn some people away from unthinkingly believing the lies the Prophet spouted about him with unfortunate regularity.
Holding the hat and stool, McGonagall led the new First-Years into the Hall, and placed the hat on the stool, and stood back. Harry saw the rip in the side of the hat open and it began to sing.
He followed along as it sang what Harry thought was an almost rehash of the virtues of each house from his first year. He clapped politely with the other students at its end and then joined in applauding each student as they were sorted.
Colin Creevy was the first Gryffindor. Abigail Danforth was the next, Michael Galforge followed, and Verbena Kensport was the last before . . .
When his new friend Luna settled onto the stool, and the hat covered her eyes, he had a grin on his face. He was not sure where she would go, but he would put some sickles on Ravenclaw.
Suddenly he came out of his thoughts and noticed that the people around him were getting restless. Looking, he realized Luna was in the middle of a long hat stall. Apparently, from the way she was shaking her head and gesturing with her hands, she was not agreeing with the Hat's choice of house.
A few seconds later, Harry could swear he heard the hat mutter tiredly, "As you wish."
"Gryffindor!"
*/
A/N:
One: Panadol is Acetaminophen, or in the U.S., Tylenol.
Two: Neville and Hermione rode the carriages to and back from the Christmas Holiday. The other two stayed in the castle. Before almost everyone gets all unhappy, as they leave the castle after first year, my copy of HP&SS, page 307 states, "Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake, they were boarding the Hogwarts Express;" No carriage trip to the train station first year.
The little bit of raving Luna-cy plot bunny at the end bit me about five days ago, and just would not let go. T'was unplanned, and I'm sure will bite me in the rump later. Many vaguely outlined future chapters will now need revision. Sigh.
To re-iterate: I Galleon = £35.00 = $48.00 (Approx.) 1992
G100 = £3,500 = $4,800.00
G1,000 = £35,000 = $48,000.00