In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 77: Practical
Thursday, Harry woke to those snores near him. Harry stood on the bed, crouched, stepped over Hermione, over Ron's head, and got to the floor by the closet.
Harry stroked Hedwig's feathers for a moment, watched the shadow of his bird. Harry made his way to the bedroom door.
"Bit of a lie in?" Richard asked.
Harry went down the stairs first, Richard followed. Coolness of the light rain outside tempered Harry as he soaked. A warming charm to himself, Richard, and neither shivered as they ran.
"They weren't exaggerating last night," Richard said, "Were they?"
"No," Harry said, the thought of the contracts coming back to him.
A zebra crossing at the traffic light.
"And we're running," Richard said.
"Yep," Harry said.
A glance at Richard, the signal turned, a couple of cars slipped through anyways, including a black one, and they crossed, ran along the park trail.
"Suppose I shouldn't…let them ruin my life," Harry said, "It's…frustrating, because they're doing a damn fine job of it."
A honk, a rev, headlights that grew fast. Harry pushed Richard to the side, and jumped up. Unsure to the force, Harry went a bit higher than the car that passed right beneath him, the black sports car with its tires on the pedestrian path. Harry returned to the pavement, watched the vehicle hug a tree, fast, as the metal crumpled. Richard stood next to Harry.
"You're going to keep my Mum very busy," Richard said.
"Yeah," Harry said, "Sorry about that."
"Doubt Ant will complain," Richard said.
They walked over to the black sports car, the man sliced in two across the busted windshield, the paper nearby, the one that listed Harry's contract.
"Look, a mobile," Richard said, reaching to pick it up from the ground.
Richard wiped off the grim, tapped on the number pad.
"Yes," Richard said into the phone, "Car crash on the footpath from St. Ottery's … yes, the footpath… Dunno why, but the driver seems dead, no other injuries."
Richard pressed the disconnect button.
"Guess we wait," Harry said.
"We're witnesses," Richard said, "But you jumped to the other side."
Harry understood the lie. A glance to the trail, the tire ruts to either side that showed as the police car hesitated at the start of it. Richard waved, and the young lady ran toward them. Harry twisted as he pointed at the car.
"We're alright," Richard said to her.
"We need a coroner," the officer said into her radio.
"His mobile fell out," Richard said, handing it over to her.
"Ta," the officer said, putting it into a small plastic bag, "Stay for a bit, we'll have questions."
"Let my Mum sleep in," Richard said.
A moment later, a firefighter approached.
"Hi Dad," Richard said.
Kurt approached the vehicle, while an officer approached Richard.
"Hi Trevor," Richard said.
A pad of paper to the hand, Richard understood, described the car's actions. Trevor turned to Harry, and Harry filled in.
"Thank you," Trevor said, "Best if you don't loiter in one spot too long."
"We'll be home in about a half hour," Richard said, "Um…assuming nobody else decides to crash."
Richard and Harry ran, back up the footpath, back to St. Ottery Road, turned right.
"Detours," Harry grumbled.
When Harry and Richard returned to 26 Oak Street, Harry was the first to enter the living room. Kristen was adjusting the buttons on her police uniform, when her eyes spotted the two teenage boys.
"Of all the—" Kristen said, "I thought Andrea was the queen of stupidity."
Harry ducked out of the way, thinking her concern was Richard, except her eyes followed Harry's bottle green.
"I understand a car tried to run you both down," Kristen said.
"Should've seen him jump out of the way," Richard said.
Harry watched her face try a contortion, the eyes that weren't sure if they got the message.
"You've got a half million pound price on your head Harry," Kristen said, "Use it."
"It's life," Harry grumbled.
"Please help me protect it," Kristen said, "Don't go making yourself a target."
"It was nothing Mum," Richard said.
"Says two witnesses to this morning's accident," Kristen said.
"Wasn't an accident," Harry said, "Are we done here?"
"You're late for work," Richard said to her.
"You're not human resources," Kristen said.
Harry went up the stairs, entered Gia's bedroom. Harry rummaged at the letters on the desk. Gia wrapped her arms around his back, her chin nuzzled into his right shoulder as he opened the first letter with the distinctive seal.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Dear Mr. Harry James Potter
Your behavior of late is appalling. You have been fined for casting the Potter Marks — in addition to your outstanding balance, you are liable for 7,000 Galleons.
Dolores Umbridge
Chair of the Harry Potter Guidance Committee
"Killing me would make them a profit," Harry said.
Harry hissed in Parseltongue, the parchment disintegrated into ash. Gia turned him around, pushed him to sit on the corner of the bed.
"We need to talk," Gia said.
Harry studied those blue eyes, as she sat next to him. She grabbed his hands.
"May have been kidding about that," Gia said, her eyes trained on him, "I can accept that enough shit comes your way that it might seem easier to take that shortcut."
Gia breathed.
"I hope I'm enough of a reason for you not to," Gia said.
"I…" Harry started, unable to formulate a good response.
"It'd be unfair, so unfair," Gia said, "With what we've done, what I've put in, for you to…trash it."
"Of…" Harry stopped.
"Why?" Gia asked.
Harry kept his eyes on those blue eyes.
"You love me, right?" Gia asked.
"Yes," Harry said.
"You don't want to hurt me, right?" Gia asked.
Harry nodded.
"Suicide's the most damming way you could," Gia said, "Understand?"
Harry nodded.
"Promise me…" Gia said, "Promise me to work on this."
Harry breathed.
"Ron's a prick but he means well," Gia said, "Work with him—or somebody else, on everything going wrong in your life. I want you alive, understood?"
"But—" Harry started.
"No exceptions if you truly love me," Gia said, "Do everything in your power, learn whatever you need to, get whatever help we need, to stop this madness attacking us, and to live after doing so. Capiche?"
"I guess…" Harry started.
"No guessing," Gia said, "Do it."
Her hands worked up his thighs.
"Can I trust you to do this?" Gia asked.
"I guess…yes," Harry said.
"Pretty weak," Gia said.
"Yes," Harry said.
"Keep it," Gia said.
Gia leaned in, she kissed Harry. A knock at the door, it opened, and Ron stood there.
"Coming to Lupin's?" Ron said, "Or should we tell him the truth that you're banging?"
"Ron!" Harry snapped.
A grin to Ron's freckled face, the smile.
"I'm denying everything," Ron stated.
Ron entered the bedroom. Hermione followed.
"Training?" Gia asked.
"Come," Harry said, "Lupin wanted you."
Gia nodded, stood. Harry glanced, spotted the pin on Hedwig's perch, grabbed it. A tap with his wand, the rest touched it. Jerk behind the naval, the land passed as they were pulled, and they dropped into Lupin's living room. A bit of rain lashed against the windows, obscured the inlet. All four steadied themselves in front of Lupin approaching.
"Good morning," Lupin said, "You'll need these."
He handed three coins, one to Harry, one to Ron, and one to Gia. Harry tried to read the next thing from Lupin's mind, except it was too late, those eyes flashed red.
"Always the fool!" Lupin said in a cold voice
A moment to register the glare, the jerk behind the naval, and Harry landed in a small dark chamber lit by a single candle. In the reflection of the mirror, a finger behind him in dark robes with a black mask, cursed. Harry froze in the body bind as the metal coin affixed itself to his collar.
Screams, feminine screams came from all around.
"GIA!" Harry shouted, but his voice stifled by the stone of the chamber.
A twist, a push, Harry's magic overcame that body bind and he began to move; his wand out that now doubled as a torch. He went out the only passage out of that chamber.
…
Ron's feet landed with a splash into standing water in a musty corridor. Gia's screams, Harry's came to his ears. His heart beat as the coin fixed itself to his collar, wand in his right hand whose strong light brightened the weathered green rock; and he crept along to his left.
…
Hermione landed in a small warm room. Soft light over the painting on one of the blue walls, it depicted the destruction of the library at Alexandria. She thought for a moment as she took out her vine wood wand. Aimed to the hand, conjured up the parchment, upon which a map showed itself.
"Doubt the boys…" she muttered as she studied the map.
Surrounding chambers and corridors of a maze, the red dot showed her location. A scream, Harry's shout, she walked out of the small room through a doorway into the corridor, her feet on the cobblestone, and she made her way.
…
Lupin and Gia landed in the middle of the Practice Hall, close to the ceiling. A petite hexagonal area with three passages through the solid stone walls, all away from the shrouded white gazebo in the middle.
"Scream," Lupin said to Gia, holding a coin out.
Gia screamed.
"How was my performance?" Lupin asked.
They went up the steps of that gazebo, with chairs around a table with plenty of tea and biscuits. Gia turned, her blue eyes on the wizard.
"I know, I know, it's a bit mean," Lupin said, "Can you scream again?"
Gia screamed, again.
"It was Moody's idea to give them this little test," Lupin said, "You're the bait."
"Oh," Gia said.
"Stay here," Lupin said.
Lupin turned back for the steps, paused.
"Will you be alright?" Lupin asked.
"Bit sudden," Gia said.
"You're the best motivator for them," Lupin said, "Will you be alright?"
"Guess so," Gia said.
"Excuse me, I'm joining in the fun," Lupin said, "Doubt we'll be more than a few hours."
"That long?" Gia asked.
"Likely," Lupin said.
Lupin left the gazebo, went along one of the three passageways, vanished.
Gia reached for the copy of Hamlet on the table, sat. She reached for a biscuit, and nibbled on it as she read.
…
Harry's heart raced as he inched along another corridor. Arched, as if it were outside, but wasn't. A room to his right, mostly empty save a couple of abandoned suits of rusted armor. On his left, a deli advertised its muggle sandwiches, and Harry wondered for a moment what that meant.
Harry's curiosity more than satisfied as he turned right with the passageway, the foul smell overpowered his nose. An open door advertised it, meat, "Muggle Meat, 5 Knuts a pound". Corpses hung from meat hooks by their ankles, people with their abdomens ripped open, the guts mostly removed, blood dripped. A display case had skinned legs, arms, other body parts on a sea of ice.
Another scream to Harry's ears, his wand in hand as he entered the room. More corpses in various stages of carving were scattered about. He passed one intact male hanging from the ceiling; and Harry turned his back to it as he scanned the rest of the room. Arms grabbed Harry tightly about the waist, yanked. Harry stumbled, a knife went to his throat as the body came down. A shove and Harry's wand yanked from his fingers, tossed aside.
"Die!" the man raised the knife. "You murdering—"
In a flash, the knife disintegrated. Harry's elbow jabbed backward into the man's stomach. This man grabbed Harry's throat with one hand, pulled on the arm with the other. Harry raised his legs, allowed himself to fall, and used his momentum to pull the assailant over. As this man fell forward onto the floor, Harry summoned his wand. Still tumbling, Harry's wand shot out the red, the stunning curse, at the man.
Harry stood, felt pity toward the man with bloodied ankles, despite the fresh bloodied finger impressions to Harry's throat. Harry stepped carefully around the other carcasses, kept his best distance, and left the room. He stowed his wand, crept down a flight of stairs.
Harry wondered where Ron was.
…
Darkness shrouded the dense shrubs, a peek of a moon from above, and Ron turned the corner to a growl. Snarling with bare teeth, the werewolf advanced toward Ron.
"Bloody hell," Ron muttered.
Ron stepped backward. Ron spun around, and ran; the werewolf gave chase. Up a flight of stairs, heard the try to take a bite of his leg, the whiskers touched his skin. Another bite brought the breath to his heal as Ron bolted. A thought, Ron took the left to the wide abyss he'd crossed twenty minutes earlier.
"Hope…" Ron muttered as he didn't have a chance to test the flimsy thin plank as he turned to cross it. His feet to the slick wood, the sinking feeling as the plank bent until he was ten feet down halfway across. Ron spun around when he made it to the grassy patch on the other side. "Good luck."
That werewolf, halfway across, beneath the quarter moon above. Ron aimed his wand, blasted the plank. That werewolf plunged into the abyss. Ron followed the corridor away from the abyss, turned left at the fork, and continued. Ron wondered about Hermione.
…
Hermione stopped along the corridor, leaned back against the wall. She wondered whose ridiculous idea this was, seemed about as hair brained as something Ron would come up.
"Go on," an echo of a memory, Ron's voice on more than one occasion.
A smoky smell grew thicker, along with smoke began to invade the corridor as she approached a hard turn to the right. Hermione stopped, peeked around that corner, to a barrel of flames; the flickering light of the fire lit up the walls, it's crackle helped against the occasional distant scream.
A figure dressed in black robes and black mask tossed book after book into a barrel of flames. Among the titles, St. Mungo's Book of Healing, Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions, Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles, and Muggles Who Notice.
Walls behind Hermione shifted, blocked her retreat at the same time that figure in black glanced upward toward her. Hermione exhaled as her mind thought, and a smile came to her. A thought, a wave of her wand, used the Disillusionment Charm upon herself. Hermione walked around the corner, skirted behind the figure, however, at the moment of closeness, that figure moved and brushed upon her.
"Ah–ha!" the figure said, the books in the hands fell, a wand aimed as he cursed.
Hermione summoned a book, it blocked the curse. Hermione cursed back, her wand aimed as the body bind came to her mind, cast silently; that figure in black fell down on top of the books.
"Close," Hermione muttered.
Hermione's mind drifted as she walked, wondered how this was even remotely tied into the contracts that had been taken out on them.
Kristen was in her chair, behind her desk at the station, her feet up on the desk, the folder in her lap.
"What the hell are we stepping into?" Kristen asked.
"What'd you mean?" Frank asked.
"None of this makes any real sense," Kristen said, "A million plus for four teenagers. Their headmaster apologized—that's all I'm getting from them, apologies. None of them surprised by these Death Eaters, guessing this EM is a new faction?"
"I can't help with that," Frank said, "Ironically enough, think your job's at home, asking them questions."
"Not sure where they've gone for the morning," Kristen said, "With bounties like this, you'd think they'd stay PUT!"
"Imprison themselves?" Frank asked.
"Didn't mean it like that," Kristen said.
Kristen shuffled back through the papers, knew she wasn't going to uncover anything new, still, made her feel like she would.
"Say you imprison them in your Fort Knox," Frank said, "What then? Every bounty hunter's coming to your house."
"Wish you hadn't of said that," Kristen said, though she knew he was correct.
Seven floors and seven hours after he started in the maze, Harry climbed another flight of spiral stairs. Gia's screams echoed louder within him.
"Coming," Harry muttered, for the umpteenth time, knew any reply hadn't made it back to him.
Light from his wand illuminated a beaten old green door with a rusty handle. Brown water seeped in, cascaded down the stairs, over his shoes. Harry turned the knob, a torrent of that cold water crashed to soak his feet. He cautiously labored, stepped up the slippery stone stairs. Thunder greeted Harry as his head emerged from the stairwell, the dark and black above kept its downpour of bitter rain, the water that drained down that stair well he left; between the thick hedge to his right, the muddy field to the far left.
Harry's heart pounded as he rushed up the stairs, too fast that he slipped. A face plant gained him a mask of fetid muck. His left hand wiped his face, while his right used leaves of the hedge to divorce the slime from his wand as he crept along. A fast singe of the hedge next to his right shoulder, a twist of his neck to see another curse fly at him from the public loo. Harry dropped as he returned the red curse, the assailant fell, stunned.
Screams of Gia resonated in Harry's head, he brisked away brief tears, as he turned the corner of the hedge. A stone alter, inside a collection of stone pillars, stood in the middle of this soggy clearing. Upon the low lying alter, a glass water tank, inside Gia submerged, trapped, and pounded on the glass. A figure in black, next to her, sharpened his knives.
Harry bolted for the altar, when that figure shot out curses of blue, and Harry ducked. Other figures in black and similar masks of black, from the shadows around the clearing, fired more curses. Harry tripped over a pair of stiffs; cold faces of Ron and Hermione.
Harry shot a stunning curse at the figure sharpening knives; the figure shook it off and the black robes settled back down. A partial body bind, and the figure flexed his legs, continued, this time, moved toward the tank. A full body bind, a slight hesitation in the figure, the feet continued. Ropes shot from Harry's wand, ropes that promptly slipped as if they were well greased. Harry let his mind wander, curses shattered some of those stone pillars, rained down debris, all missed that tank. Bubbles from Gia's mouth, she continued to pound, the figure brought the knives to the lip of the tank.
Harry crawled to a nook of a broken pillar, drew himself up, as he knew the final curse to try, and he took a deep breath. He readied himself, wand already drawn in his hand, he stepped out of his nook. That figure's head turned, the masked eyes at Harry, though the knife continued its plunge downward toward the water of the tank.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Harry shouted, wand aimed.
A bead of green, that dreaded curse flowed from Harry's wand, hit the figure who collapsed, crumpled to the ground. Harry opened the tank, pulled Gia out; the water washed over him, to clean some of the mud off him. She coughed, started breathing. Though she kissed him, Harry dropped to his knees, facing the new corpse, the figure on the ground.
"I killed him," Harry muttered.
A hand rested on Harry's shoulder, Lupin's.
"No you didn't," Lupin said, "Not really."
"What?" Harry said, "I used the Killing Curse, he died."
"It's a drone used for practice, you took out a puppet," Lupin said, "Don't get me wrong, a killing curse should never be taken lightly, you exhausted your options, but I needed to know that you'd use it. Follow."
Harry followed Lupin up the steps into the gazebo, Ron already there, stood. Gia, Hermione were seated at the table.
"You!" Ron snapped, his finger pointed at Lupin, "What's the freaking idea? You—"
"A test!" Lupin said, "An honest assessment—"
"After I asked…" Ron started.
"You think Voldemort—who was never here," Lupin said, "You think he'd let you schedule up the next conflict? Say next Tuesday after tea and biscuits?"
"But—" Ron started.
"But what?" Lupin said, "You're ill? That's exactly when they'll attack, when you're at your weakest. Know how many get killed when they're asleep? Moody's been vigilant this week while you've been sleeping in that town, he counted two yesterday that he's thrown off, your muggles unaware. I'm sorry, but excuses mean you're dead, and so are they. Understand me?"
"Yeah," Ron grumbled.
"I do this as a favor because I want you to have long, happy, and fruitful lives," Lupin said, "This means you need to be prepared for anything at any time, no failures, and pick up any pieces later."
"Sorry," Ron said.
"Be mad, be angry, that Voldemort and the Death Eaters have forced this on you," Lupin said, "I remember your mother by not letting you off the hook, so that you can fight without us covering your arses."
"We get it," Harry said.
"Good," Lupin said, "Expect more exercises."
"Call getting bitten at by a werewolf—exercise?" Ron asked.
"It's not—" Hermione started.
"I must transform at a full moon—I can at other times and retain my wits," Lupin said, "It was as realistic as we could make it without actually inviting the Death Eaters."
"We?" Harry asked.
A whistle.
"Meet the puppet masters," Lupin said, "I think you know them, at least some of them."
Kingsley Shacklebolt, Moody, Amelia Bones, Sirius, and Nymphadora Tonks stepped forth.
"Fred and George have already returned to their shop," said Kingsley.
"Harry," Lupin said, "We are part the order of the phoenix, a group Dumbledore resurrected when Voldemort rose to power. We dedicate our strengths, our efforts to defeating those practicing the Dark Arts, even at the cost us our lives. This is not a game, it kills."
Harry glanced at Gia.
"We know," Hermione said, "We'd like to join."
"You won't," Lupin said, "On this, Albus Dumbledore has been explicit. We're allies, we train you because we know Voldemort is after you, but we give you the space we can afford so you can be…teenagers. Moody and Shacklebolt know that town by heart, helping to let you be teenagers worried about classes, snogging, Quidditch. It's a luxury we cannot continue as we're fast running out of time."
"How soon?" Harry asked.
"You will know that once it comes," Lupin said, "Albus is tight lipped. I think even a year is optimistic, months until Voldemort's trap snaps shut."
"Shit," Ron said.
"Remember," Lupin said, "Voldemort's trap is already springing. A year ago, Harry could've walked Diagon Alley, raised an army of a thousand wizards. Now—"
"Their wands slaughter me," Harry said, "Not a lot of time left."
"A gut feeling that's slightly more reliable than tea leaves," Lupin said, "Still, a guess, that you will not have the opportunity to finish your Hogwarts education. Understand the pressure we're under?"
"Yeah," Harry said.
"We all came up with this exercise to help you," Lupin said.
"Ta," Ron grumbled.
"An honest assessment of your skills," Lupin said, "Those coins are recording devices—replay them. Review all three, independent essays for each coin, detailing your own performance, and your friends. Focus on rights, wrongs, strengths, weaknesses, and lessons learned — if the essay's shorter than a roll of parchment, try again. Got it?"
"Yeah," Ron grumbled.
Harry nodded, though he thought he spotted a grin on Hermione's face.
"Read the others, and a final essay rebutting or acknowledging their observations," Lupin said, "I expect nothing before Monday, advise me then if you need more time."
"They'll focus," Hermione promised.
"And I'm not without mercy," Lupin said, "Give you each a shot of Firewhiskey upstairs before you leave, no tricks, no hard feelings please."
Harry loitered for a moment, Gia locked her arm with Harry's. Harry and Gia went to the door, climbed the steps into what now felt a tiny cottage, overlooking the inlet.
Ron handed Harry the shot–glass as he stepped up; Hermione next to him. Freckled face, the eyebrows, , and those blue eyes focused on Harry's.
"I need a couple of things," Ron thought "Be late returning."
"Why?" Harry retorted.
"Instead of killing Lupin," Ron replied, "Help you pick up the pieces."
"What?" Harry thought.
"After giving you mouth to mouth yesterday?" Ron asked.
"You enjoyed that," Harry snapped.
"You would," Ron replied.
Harry snorted, though he caught Hermione's perplexed glance.
"It's a thousand to one against us," Ron pointed out, "It's too late to pull out, my only chance is to stick with you, and we face this together, understood?"
"Guess so," Harry replied.
"Let Hermione read my journal," Ron mentioned.
"You're sure?" Harry questioned.
"She thinks it's her idea," Ron replied, "Leave it unguarded, let her steal it, understood?"
"What's in it?" Harry inquired.
"Can't you see it's bigger than you? You're the unlucky bloke who drew the short wand," Ron replied, "I need her to help me help you keep your marbles. For that, I'm letting her judge me."
"Know what she'll say," Harry replied.
Ron snorted, another shrewd glance from Hermione.
"I hope, I trust, she'll think better of me," Ron thought, "You can feel my butterflies, right?"
"Talk to Fred and George?" Harry thought, "Wager on this?"
"I've already placed my bet," Ron said, "I've wagered on you, Harry."
Another glance from Hermione as Ron raised his glass. Harry tapped his to Ron's, drank.
"Am I missing something?" Hermione asked.
"Goes for me too," Gia said.
"Nothing," Harry lied.
"Need to get moving," Hermione said.
Harry set the cup down on the window sill, took out his Portkey, tapped it. Hermione and Gia held on.
"Ron!" Hermione snapped as the jerk behind the naval.
"He'll be late," Harry said.
Hermione landed with Harry and Gia in the familiar bedroom in Noigate that afternoon. Hedwig hooted. Caked in dirt and mud, Harry went for the bathroom, the sound of the shower began to sound. Gia closed the door.
"I never said—" Hermione started.
"It's all over your face," Gia said, "I sleep with you and the boys, hope I know a thing or two."
Hermione chuckled. She squatted by the shelves, started to push books.
"Guard the door," Hermione said, "Sure, Ron told a big story last night—not sure where he hid the Fire Whiskey to think that one up."
"Jealous?" Gia asked, "Give him credit, I think he's right."
"Going to find out," Hermione said, as she pulled out Ron's journal, "Thought Quidditch Statistics would hide it?"
Hermione sat on the bed, began to flip the pages. The notes, the diagrams, the annotations on it.
"Know Ron'd be furious," Hermione said, "There's definitely a lot on Harry, infatuation?"
Hermione pulled out a folded piece of parchment
"A psychiatric profile," Hermione muttered, "That idiot did all this?"
Gia sat on the bed, her blue eyes focused on Hermione's.
"I know Harry loves me," Gia said, "I don't doubt that. You love Harry, right?"
"Yes," Hermione said.
"Harry's love is infectious," Gia said, "Ron's patient zero."
"Guess so," Hermione said.
"His other books." Gia pointed at the large line of Chudley Canons statistic books. "What are they?"
Hermione grabbed the 1835 year, opened it.
"It's…" Hermione stammered, the name of her mother written onto the front page, the anatomy diagram of the head on the page, "This…" she pulled the cover. "False. How many are fake?"
"How many books are there?" Gia asked.
Hermione turned her shoulder, her eyes peered along it.
"If I hadn't of charmed the shelf…" Hermione muttered.
"How long has he been faking the books?" Gia asked, "Researching?"
Hermione flipped the pages of Ron's journal. "June…earlier, but… he wrote a promise here, to his mother, to look after Harry." Page after page, some essays from the books, even the charm to the mood curse.
"I do not dare to stand between them," Gia said, "Ron loves Harry, he tried to be so very British about it, keep Harry's secrets, helping him without telling him. I love Ron for trying, I love him for helping me understand Harry. Ron's helping Harry in the best way he knows how, don't trash Ron for that."
"Suppose so," Hermione said.
"Put it back and leave it to Ron," Gia said, "Don't squabble, for it's Harry that this is all about."
"B–but I can study up!" Hermione stammered, "I—"
"We don't need a turf war," Gia said, "Harry's opened up to Ron, not you. Can you imagine how much arse kissing he's doing to Harry for what spilled last night?"
"I…" Hermione started, "Don't want to think about that."
"Harry's very uncomfortable right now," Gia said, "Let Ron keep the lead, I'll back him up."
Harry opened the bedroom door, used the towel around him. Hermione shut the books and the journal, fast. Harry walked next to her, bent over to reach for the trunks. Harry moved his Cloak of Invisibility, revealed a sack of books beneath it.
"That's…" Hermione muttered.
Harry stood, twinkling of his bottle green eyes bore into her, as he grabbed his book–bag.
"Need to talk with you, downstairs," Harry said, "After you and her snog."
"Harry!" Hermione snapped.
"Can I watch?" Harry asked.
"OUT!" Hermione snapped.
Harry grinned, turned, wagged his rear as he left the bedroom. Gia snickered.
"Gia!" Hermione snapped.
"I'll wank him in a moment," Gia said to Hermione, "You can watch me."
Hermione snorted.
"Is it true about your third year?" Gia asked, "That Harry had no happy memories to save his life?"
"He used confidence," Hermione said.
"I plan to give him all the happy memories he needs." Gia stood. "You come and watch, or wait a few minutes. Your choice."
Gia turned, went for the door. Hermione opened Ron's journal, found notes of him talking to her mother, began to read in.
HOOT!
Hermione glanced at Hedwig, the clock, and realized how much time she'd lost track of. She put Ron's journal back to the shelf, grabbed her book bag, and went out. She entered the dining room.
"Cancel the search party," Harry said to Gia.
"What?" Hermione asked.
Harry stood, and motioned. Hermione followed him into the study. She closed the door, and he spun around.
"Got lost in his journal?" Harry asked.
"Gia—" Hermione started.
"Ron's idea," Harry said.
"No," Hermione said, "I—"
"He told me," Harry said, "I'm guessing he planted it when you were having tea back at…"
Twinkling bottle greens bore down on her.
"No," Hermione said, "Admit it came to me then."
"Advanced Legilimency," Harry said, "Bet Ron wrote something in his journal about that, or will."
Bottle greens still focused on her.
"He explained it," Harry said, "I naturally made sure…I went into the shower so you'd have the chance."
"You…?" Hermione asked.
"We chatted over the Firewhiskey," Harry said, "Admit you were suspicious, I wondered if you'd work it out or not. Though, you're right, Ron's a blubbering idiot when he moved his lips at the end."
Hermione unsure if Harry's being truthful or not.
"He wanted to spill what he's been up to," Harry said, "Wanted you to better understand him, made that leap of faith you'll approve."
Harry's eyes blinked, kept their gaze on hers, as she mulled it over.
"As insufferable as it is," Harry said, "Lupin's right that shit happens at shitty times."
"Usually," Hermione said.
"Ron means well," Harry said, "I have been falling apart, Ron…inherited that from his mother."
Hermione snorted. She stepped closer, her hands went up his shirt, and her fingers teased his nipples.
"I suggested that," Harry said, "After today, I needed it."
Harry gestured with his hand, moved them both to the sofa, and sat. Harry's right leg up, he turned toward her, and she brought her left leg up, faced this wizard. Bottle green eyes beneath the jet black hair, she watched him.
"Introducing Gia was brilliant," Harry said, "She…I'd already be lost without her. Also meant Ron and I wouldn't fight over you, a blessing."
"Ron's…a blessing?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, yes he is," Harry said, "And Lupin's very right, we gotta focus."
Harry stood, paced, and turned to face her. Hermione focused on him.
"Love Ron, right?" Harry asked.
"You shouldn't need to—" Hermione started.
"I do need to ask," Harry said, "Because I'm not sure."
Hermione unsure.
"You cut him down at every chance," Harry said, "You belittle him with about every word. I can no longer tell if you're simply putting up with him because he's with me, or if you care about him."
"Thought…" Hermione drifted off.
"Ron's worried about me," Harry said, "I'm worried about you."
"Oh," Hermione muttered.
"I'm not forcing you to love him," Harry said, "But, Ron's doing his dammed best to have my back. You…you're sabotaging him."
"Sorry," Hermione said.
"Make up your mind, it's your choice," Harry said, "If you love him, take him on a date tomorrow evening to Buckingham Palace, bang for the Queen so she knows you love Ron."
"Wouldn't go that far," Hermione said.
"Okay, bang for Fred and George," Harry said, "Point is, it needs to be unmistakable to him, to me. Or, let me know to keep you two apart."
"You don't have to do that," Hermione said.
"I want to be the one that unites in love," Harry said, "We both know Voldemort certainly can't do that."
Hermione snorted.
"Right now we can arrange a lynching on us," Harry said, "They won't give a damn about your feelings to Ron."
"No," Hermione stated.
"Bickering ends," Harry said, "We can't fight effectively until we unite; tangle with one, tangle with all."
"Yes," Hermione admitted.
"And you'll love the Legilimency," Harry said, "Ron's the first one I told about the engagement—in the Great Hall, Malfoy didn't have a clue though he sat next to me."
Hermione snorted.
"We need to guard our secrets better," Harry said, "That includes Ron's journal—imagine if Wormtail read it?"
A pang of horror came to Hermione.
"Wormtail knows it exists," Harry said, "So yeah, it's dangerous."
Knock! Knock!
"Sirius has shown up," Gia said through the door.
Harry grabbed Hermione's hand, lifted and she stood.
"And we both need your brain," Harry said.
Hermione wondered about Ron.
Ron landed later that afternoon in Gia's bedroom. Hermione on the bed, she flipped through Practical Legilimens and Occlumency.
"Sure you told me everything?" Hermione asked.
Ron summoned his journal from the shelf, opened it, watched her eyes.
"You already checked," Ron said, "Check more…though, mind the early stuff, it was before I got to liking you."
"Harry said—" Hermione started.
"We can't be fighting," Ron said, handing over a sheet of parchment, "Slipped under Fred's and George's door—the prices on our heads."
"Wanted dead," Hermione said, "No option for living."
"It's too late to back out," Ron said, "We've already bet our lives on Harry."
"Guess so," Hermione said.
Ron ran his fingers over her ear.
"You're so smart," Ron said, "I could only study one thing, and I studied Harry. We're both dead without him."
"I get that," Hermione said.
Ron grabbed the Advanced Legilimens.
"Work with him and you'll find his memory of his Aunt trying to drown him giving a bath," Ron said, "And much…much more. I took notes."
Hermione's brown eyes on his, the curiosity behind them.
"You're doing it," Hermione said.
"It's…habit," Ron said, "Good for you to learn."
Ron leaned over, kissed her on the cheek. Ron turned, went to his trunk.
"Him and Gia are in the hot tub," Hermione said.
"Good," Ron said as he grabbed his pewter cauldron. George's sack of ingredients, along with his own bag into the cauldron.
"You're—?" Hermione asked.
"Setting the house on fire," Ron said.
Ron spun around.
"Sorry, not funny," Ron said.
"Hardly," Hermione retorted.
Ron grabbed Most Potente Potions, and went down the stairs; he entered the kitchen, placed the pewter cauldron on the gas stove. Ron added a bit of water, turned on the gas burner beneath it, and opened the book. Snuffles transformed.
"Fancy a potion?" Sirius said, "Severus could fix you up."
"Like he has any taste," Ron said.
A chuckle, as Ron grabbed a knife. A chop to the sea cucumber, Ron lifted the cutting board and scraped it in.
"Need I remind you of where you're brewing," Sirius said, in an imitation of Snape's dry voice, "The occupants of this house, or the underage wizardry you're doing?"
"For an unregistered Animagus," Ron said, "You're awfully concerned."
"As a responsible adult—" Sirius tarted.
"You?" Ron laughed, "Responsible?"
"I have a duty to point out concerns," Sirius said.
Ron added a pair of lacewigs and stirred.
"May I know—?" Sirius asked.
"No," Ron said, "Can I get you to stir while we're out?"
Sirius raised his eyebrows.
"A cauldron—fine," Ron said, "Think the muggles will pick up on a self–stirring spoon?"
"For Harry?" Sirius asked.
"I understand Cody's getting his shots tomorrow," Ron said, "Two's company."
"You wouldn't," Sirius said.
"I'll ask Harry about proper pet care," Ron said.
Sirius transformed and ran for the living room.
"What'd ya tell him?" Harry asked, laughing, as he entered the kitchen, lipstick lips on his bare chest. Harry sniffed at the cauldron. "What's this? Smells almost as bad as Polyjuice."
"It's related." Ron returned to grinding up the beetles.
"So?" Harry asked.
"It's a dream switcher," Ron whispered, "For you."
"What?" Harry said, "You should've—"
"Mind talking a bit louder?" Ron snapped, "Sirius might not hear us."
Hermione entered the kitchen, her potion notes in her hands.
"Thinking a bit stronger than a cheering charm." Hermione paused in front of the cauldron, she peered into it.
"Dream switcher," Ron said, "Lets us trade nightmares."
"I don't have nightmares!" Harry protested.
"Vivid dreams?" Ron said, "You wet the bed from them."
"Let's not go there," Harry said.
"Tonight," Ron said, "I'll be wetting the bed."
"Great," Hermione muttered, "Looking forward to that."
"Why not dreamless?" Harry asked.
"Long term use? Nor does it do any good," Ron said, "Nah, I'm volunteering to give you a holiday, so you can enjoy life and put Moldiwart to shame."
"Moldiwart?" Harry asked.
"Yeah," Ron said, "Not saying his name again, he's not worth it, but you are."
A brief glare, before Harry sighed.
"Let you two…I mean, I need to work on my essay," Harry said.
Harry turned, went for the dining room, stopped and pulled the sliding door closed.
"Did he…?" Ron asked.
A kiss to Ron's cheek. Ron turned, those brown eyes, and Hermione hugged him. Ron caught the hint of Harry's suggestion within.
"You're…" Hermione started.
"Change of heart?" Ron asked.
"Harry," Hermione said.
"That rascal," Ron said.
Hermione snorted.
"I know you're trying," Hermione said.
Ron put the spoon to the side, reached and lifted her, and kissed back.
"Thanks for listening," Ron replied.
Ron let her back down.
"We'll still fight," Hermione promised.
"I only know the words out of your mouth," Ron said, "Please make some of them kind, show you love me, alright?"
"Not saying you're doing the best job," Hermione said.
Ron added crushed fruit flies as he stirred the cauldron.
"Have to admit Fred's and George's new worker's pretty," Ron said.
"You!" Hermione said.
"Emily thinks I'm cute," Ron said, "Likes what she sees in me."
"Confession?" Hermione asked.
"I want you," Ron said, "Help keep the candle burning."
"You didn't—?" Hermione asked.
"Besides," Ron said, "Fred and George will give us anything if I threaten to snog her."
"You're a rascal!" Hermione snapped, "You and Harry, both!"
"And we love you," Ron said, "There. Gotta let this simmer. Wanna charm the spoon or should we stand here stirring?"
Hermione flipped through the pages in her hands later that evening, her eyes peeked above the edge as Gia brought Garrett Tremble down onto the mat on his back. She glanced at Ron and Harry, their hands clapping in the applause. Gia came over, and kissed Harry. Tremble stood, Kristen joined him in the middle of the mat.
"Thank you everybody," Kristen said, "That concludes this mini course. Please read the list and let me know by the end of tomorrow what you want to study, and I'll chose one.
Blue and gray sweats moved as most of the others moved out of the gymnasium. Hermione double checked the list of courses on the pages, as Kristen came over.
"Ready?" Kristen asked.
"Can I?" Ron asked Hermione.
Ron took the list, flipped through the pages. Hermione walked with Ron out of the gymnasium, the pages rustled and blew in the wind. Ron curled up the pages.
"Yes," Kristen said, "Was suggested you should attend."
"Amelia?" Harry asked.
Several other officers in sweats accompanied them.
"Won't name names," Kristen replied.
They returned to 26 Oak Street, entered. Hermione went up the steps, into the bedroom. Harry entered next. Ron was a couple of minutes behind, this time with a flask and two cups.
"We're taking her up," Harry said, as he grabbed the sheet, "What'd you think Ron?"
"Investigative Techniques," Hermione said, "Something the Ministry for Magic should take."
"And promptly ignore," Harry said.
"Bomb Defusing and Disposal." Ron pointed.
"Why?" Hermione asked.
"Sounds cool," Harry said.
"Boys!" Hermione snapped, felt the twinkling glare from Ron.
"Mione," Ron said, "Have to make due, no Bomb Construction class."
"Like I'd ever expect you to take this seriously!" Hermione snatched the sheets from Ron.
"What if one of those showed at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.
"Muggle electronics wouldn't—" Hermione started.
"What wouldn't?" Gia asked as she entered the bedroom.
"Two strands," Ron said to Harry.
While Hermione didn't know Legilimency, she knew the change of topic.
"Has to be hair?" Ron asked.
"Any two bits, volunteered," Ron said, "Hair's typical."
Hermione watched as Ron divided the chalk blue potion into the two cups, though only a small portion of the full flask. Harry grabbed scissors, stared into the mirror, and cut two from his head; added one each to the cups. Ron did the same. Together, they watched the fizzing and popping.
"My potion, me first." Ron drank, gagged, and continued. "Definitely not Butterbeer nor Firewhiskey."
Harry drank his.
"Think I prefer Skelegro," Harry said.
"Imperturbment?" Ron asked Hermione.
Ron's wand out, aimed, Hermione joined, and both cast it about the room.
"Not kidding around," Harry said.
"That'll work?" Gia asked.
"About to find out," Ron said.
Ron yawned, went onto the bed first. Harry climbed next. Gia third. Hermione turned off the lights, when she heard the flutter of wings. No sooner than reaching to stroke Hedwig s feathers that Ron's piercing screams filled the bedroom, rang in Hermione's ears.
"No!" Ron shouted, "No! Not her, no!"
Hermione went back over to the light switch, showed Ron twitching and convulsing. More screaming.
"He's wetting," Harry said.
"I know that," Hermione said, "Normally it's you."
"Mum!" Ron screamed.
Harry's wand out, aimed at Ron. Ron's mouth remained open as the air rushed past, however, his screams stopped.
"Silencing charms," Hermione said, "Nice."
Ron convulsed and twitched, back and forth.
"I'm worried," Gia said.
"We switched dreams with that potion," Harry said, "Didn't realize—"
"Easy to miss," Hermione said.
"Climb on," Gia said, "Find Ron's sweet spot, and rub it."
"You—?" Harry asked her.
"Your earlobe helps you," Gia said to him.
Hermione watched that red haired boy for another minute, understood that he volunteered for this. She turned off the light, climbed on the bed. A fast feeling, as the thrashing continued, her hands found his nipples, and Ron calmed down. She stayed behind Ron, both on their sides, her arm around him. More mutterings, the tremblings died down. She listened to his breaths, kept the touch, and fell to sleep.
Guest Review, thank you for that clarification! Not sure if it's be better for the screen reader to go to mirrored copy at archive of our own dot org slash works slash 33971089
Date: Fri Aug 11 19:07:44 2023