The Adventures of Owl Man: The Necessary Butler?
-New Strains of Vampire and Werewolf. Now capable of childbirth with Muggle Assistance- Guest Article by Xeno Lovegood.
-Public Service Announcement, Parents, please talk to your children about Vampirism. Sparkles are not guaranteed and the downsides definitely outweigh the positives. Talk your children before some other dark creature does first.-
Harry lowered the letter of introduction. Evidently Hermione thought very highly of this one; however, something was off... he just couldn't put his finger on it.
The figure in front of him curtseyed.
"You're to be my butler?" he asked as he slowly turned his head this way and that while squinting his eyes. Something wasn't quite right.
The aforementioned 'butler' angrily squeaked, "Maid! I is your MAID, Master Harry!"
"That can't be right. It says right here in Heroes: A History that I'm supposed to have a butler.
I's been trying to tell you, sir. I is a girl, Master Harry.
"Are you sure? I mean, you don't look that much different from Dobby.
Winky just rolled her eyes at her master. "Winky is to Dobby as Master is to Blond Ferrety Boy."
Different as night and day. "Oh... My maid, you say?"
"Yes, Master Harry."
"Winky?"
"Yes, Master Harry?"
"What's become of Dobby?"
"We does not speak of it, sir."
"…"
XXXXXX
"Hey, Colin?"
"Yes, Harry Potter, sir?" he answered, only to fall to the floor as a cast iron frying pan impacted his head.
"Not steal Dobby's role." berated Dobby the house elf. "And if Creepy, Stalker, Newspapery boy does it again, Dobby will-" and Dobby knelt down and whispered into the dazed boy's ear. As the seconds crept by, Colin's eyes grew very large while Dobby continued to outline all future punishments. "-with a spoon!" he finished. "We is understood?"
"YES! Absolutely!" stammered the prone boy. This mental house elf was wearing a bodged together outfit that vaguely resembled the one Owl Man was known to wear. It looks a little like homemade cosplay but lacking a mask.
"Good." The resolute house elf bowed to Harry and then to Hermione. A quick glance over his shoulder at Colin was immediately followed by a loud sniff, and then Dobby popped away.
"Colin?"
"Yes, Harry Pot-" and Colin's eyes swerved to focus on a large silver spoon that had miraculously appeared in Hermione's hand.
Hermione looked at the spoon and then looked at Colin, at the spoon and then at Colin. Finally, she spoke. "Evidently, you've managed to really tick him off. I recommend you don't do that again."
Colin, his head still throbbing from the cast iron skillet to the back of his noggin, decided that enough was enough. He collapsed back to the ground. He fancied that little yellow birdies were flying around his head even as he drifted off to dreamland. But this was not a sign of brain damage or dementia because he had evidently seen too many Bugs Bunny cartoons growing up and a burst of accidental magic had made it a reality.
Harry and Hermione shared a quick glance; both nodded and as one and proceeded to levitate the insensate boy to the hospital wing.
XXXXXX
The hospital wing was in shambles: beds overturned, pillows jammed into wall sconces, linens strewn all about the place. In front of them was a metal instruments tray knocked carelessly upon the floor. The metal was all smudged and appeared partially bent. Vials and shattered potion bottles littered the floor.
Harry surveyed the devastation in front of him with the cool analytical mind of a crime fighter. Widespread destruction, no blood, but possible signs of a struggle. He cleared one relatively untouched bed and deposited the unconscious Creevey without waking him. He wanted to have his wand at the ready in case he had to defend them. He began to search the room to see if anyone needed help. After he checked Pomfrey's office but found no one, he then took the opportunity to use the portrait inside to alert the Acting Headmaster – help would soon arrive. Harry then began checking underneath beds. Partway through, he looked toward Hermione.
Hermione shook her head slightly. It was such a waste to do this to a place of healing. In part because Madame Pomfrey's was generally regarded as neutral territory between the Owl and his Foes. Pushing back her distaste at the nigh sacrilege that had been committed (books weren't involved), she brought forth her business persona.
She was a consummate professional, after all, and viewed the scene as seasoned cat-burglar cases a target. That is to say, she immediately knew that whomever had done this, it wasn't the work of one of the A class villains – no one she hung around would dare harm Pomfrey or her domain. No, whomever was responsible for this was a loose cannon, someone who wanted to bring the wrath of the Owl down upon their heads. She shuddered unconsciously at the thought of his powerful right arm bringing retribution upon all those responsible for this, thought of those piercing emerald eyes, the firm muscular tone and the deep, almost gravelly voice he used whenever he said—"
"Hermione?" asked Harry he made his way over to where she was standing. She had been staring about the hospital wing and not moving much. He had gotten worried and tried to get her attention before wrapping a concerned arm around her. She stiffened momentarily and then seemed to almost melt into his embrace. Even though Pomfrey wasn't there and was, at least presumably, safe for the moment, he was glad she was here. He simply felt better when she was around and knowing she was safely at his side, gave him no little comfort.
Hermione knew Harry must have contacted the authorities and that they would be here soon, but she was loathe to leave her safe place. She inquired if he had found anything and she listened carefully as Harry tried to be thorough but not be so thorough as to imply that he was some sort of seasoned investigator or crime-fighter.
"You know what this looks like to me?" he asked casually, mentally calculating how long it would take for help to arrive at the Hospital Wing.
Hermione ceased nuzzling his cheek to raise an eyebrow as she gave the room another brief survey. "If I had to guess, I'd say it looks like Ron had done the decorating…" her voice trailed off.
Harry was silent. His brow had crinkled slightly as the thought played out in his mind.
"You don't think-" began Hermione.
Harry pulled Hermione in close. "Ron wasn't supposed to be released yet. If he isn't here, then he was either taken or he left…"
-In the Slytherin Domitory-
Come on out, Draco. It's all right. No one will laugh at you.
He stuck his head out. His face looked skeptical. "You mean it?"
She took one look at his comically colored face and her resolve broke into tiny little pieces. Glimpsing the whiter than linen face, blood red lips, emerald green hair and the permanent frown she broke into deep guffaws. *snicker* "I'm sorry." *merry laugh* "-I'm not-" *snort* "-laughing at you-* "I just happened to think of a really funny joke." *laughs so hard she cries*
"I thought you were different. I thought you were sincere. FINE! If that's how everyone is going to be then I'm staying in here." He pulled his head back in and slammed the door shut with a loud bang.
"No!" She grabbed hold of the handle and pulled –locked! It wouldn't budge at all. She began to pound on the door. "Draco, please. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry. Please come out. I promise I won't laugh again."
"NO!" came the muffled voice from behind the door.
"Draco!"
"What's is going on here? Bulstrode! Well, what's all this then?"
"Draco's locked himself in his closet and he won't come out!"
Raising an eyebrow, the prefect glanced pointedly at the very real closet. Surely not. Focusing a skeptical eye on Miss Bulstrode, he felt he had to clarify the situation. "So, and correct me if I'm wrong, you're having trouble getting Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy out of the closet?
She nodded fervently. "Yes, that's exactly right. Do you have any advice? He almost came out earlier, but I took one look at his face and couldn't help but laugh. I worry that even if I do manage to coax him into coming out, I'll just start laughing myself silly again and then we'll be back where we started."
The prefect palmed his face. First muggle-born prefect in Slytherin in years and now he had to deal with this. The prince of Slytherin house and his 'Coming Out' issues… oh he was definitely going to be dipping into the confiscated Firewhiskey from the prohibited items chest. Bottle of Firewhiskey, here I come!
Millicent was knocking gently on the door again and softly calling out his name. "Draco. Draco. Come out, Draco. I'll knick a Gryffindor quidditch robe, and if you'll charm my eyes green then I'll even put on the scar.
The room was quiet as both prefect and student held their breaths. There was a loud click as the door unlocked. Bulstrode stepped away from the door.
The door opened slowly. The closet was pitch black. Ever so slowly, Draco's feet came into view. "With the tacky glasses?"
"Yes, and I'll even call you 'Malfoy' the way you like, if you want."
"Okay. I'm coming out of the closet." He stepped into the doorway and stood there giving his eyes time to adjust.
"Great Merlin! You do look like some demented court jester!" he exclaimed without thinking. The laughter followed soon after.
Milly whirled to face the prefect. Her lips were closed tightly to prevent any hint of laughter from escaping. He could tell she was struggling to keep her own laughter from escaping.
*SLAM*
"This is all your fault!" she practically screamed at the prefect then rushed up to the now shut and locked closet door. "Draco. He didn't mean to laugh-" she turned briefly to glare at him, "-he was just really surprised at how striking your appearance is, that's all!"
Silence reigned for a few moments and then a torrent of abuse issued forth from the door. "You not nice person! I think you must not have been thinking clearly or at the very least did not give the situation ample consideration before proceeding. How could you be so inconsiderate of my feelings to not even warn me that someone else was there? I am now horribly embarrassed. When my Fath…" And then he was silent."
"…"
"…"
"Merlin's Beard! What on earth is he going on about?"
"Well, earlier he said something about Madame Pomfrey doing something to him for 'cheek' but he didn't go into detail. I suppose that was the result."
The prefect stood there a moment to digest this new information. THAT was apparently Draco Malfoy's best attempt at getting angry and verbally abusive. If this was permanent, then Draco was now severely handicapped. Absolutely no one would take him seriously if this was as firm a stance as he could take on any issue. Hmm… and therein lay opportunity. Striding up to the door he inquired, "Mr. Malfoy, I may have a business proposition for you. I realize you cannot go to your family for help with your unique condition, but if you want my assistance then let me ask you. Do you still get an allowance and if so, how much?"
There was again silence for a time as Draco struggled to come up with something to say. Finally… "It is as if I had passed away and you are a large carrion bird attempting to eat the flesh off of my recently deceased corpse. You also are not nice and I would hazard to say that your mother and father were not properly married when you were conceived."
The prefect palmed his face again. Two bottles of firewhiskey!
-Later in the Room of Requirement-
"Dobby, I can't have you knocking out every person who disagrees with me."
"But Harry Potter, Sir, they is contradictin' the great Harry Potter'."
Harry gently massaged his brow. Winky never gave him this sort of trouble.
%%%%%%%%%%
No Man can resist the effects of The Potion!
Ginny Weasley peaked out from behind her dorm room door. Drat it all! She fumed. Ginny dropped her skintight bodysuit onto the bed and walked to her bedside table to pick up a piece of parchment. On the parchment was a long list of names and annotations. Several of the names were struck through. She sighed and picked up a quill and then scanned through her list.
Kneazle Woman – Some other girl beat me to it.
Wand Lass – Discovered name sounds like a really bad pun - from Percy no less.
Double Trouble – need a partner for this. Luna not interested. Padma and Parvati got it first.
Owl Girl – Owl Man laughed when I asked if I could be his sidekick.
Owl Mite – I know I'm short, but this is a stupid name. Realized it too is a bad pun waiting to happen.
Kneazle Girl – refuse to be second fiddle to Kneazle Woman. Dislike Kneazle Woman for some reason.
Batgirl – Considered due to my trademark spell, but decided this is a ridiculous name for a witch.
Potion Woman – Barmy older woman got to it first.
Witch Woman – Found out this also sounds like a really bad pun – from Percy once again.
Witchy Woman – Shamus told it was a in a popular muggle song. He sang some of it and it sounded horrible.
Dementor Girl – I don't know why, but for some reason, I just find this name ghastly.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. She'd liked the potion related theme, but someone else had gotten to the best name first. She now realized that didn't automatically mean she had to abandon the theme… she just had to come up with another variation of it. Potion Girl perhaps, or Ingredient Girl maybe, or even just drop the 'girl' part and call herself Potion. Or maybe 'THE Potion'. Ooh… she liked that. Henceforth, Hogwarts would tremble at the might of The Potion!
%%%%%%%%%%
Hermione was seated at her favorite study table in the vastness that is the Hogwarts Library. Sitting next to her was her favorite person in the world, Harry Potter. Strangely enough, he was studying something unrelated to school work; she should know, she was in all the same classes as Harry and she had personally checked over his homework not 30 minutes ago. He was done, she was sure, and since he wasn't usually one to do homework weeks in advance… or at all, she was reasonable sure that he was researching something for fun rather than for an assignment.
Harry Potter closed the cover of his latest failure… err, setback. Yes, setback was a much better word. It wouldn't be failure until he actually stopped looking. He grimaced. Failure… it had such an awful ring to it. He didn't like the sound of it, the meaning of it, or even the possibility of it. No, Harry James Potter was determined not to fail, but he was quickly running out of options.
"Harry?"
He looked up at the sound of his name. "Oh. Hullo, Hermione. I didn't see you sit down."
"Hello to you as well. What are you up to? You're acting more out of sorts than usual and don't even seem very pleased by it."
He sighed and began to explain how he had gotten curious about the artifacts of the founders. At that, Hermione raised an eyebrow. It wasn't exactly odd to be interested in the founders or their artifacts, but why now of all times? Harry had a quick answer to that. All the news articles about the seductive enchantress known as Kneazle Woman and her daring daylight thefts of the Hogwarts artifacts had peaked his interest - that and the fact that he had once held the sword of Gryffindor in his very own hands. Harry noticed that Hermione had that look on her face like she was working on a mental list as she was listening to Harry. He vaguely wondered what she was thinking about during his explanation.
Hermione was revising her list of things that needed to be 'stolen'. It had slipped her mind that Harry had once had the sword of Gryffindor in his possession. Suddenly it jumped to the top of her list in terms of acquisition priorities. "So, why the unhappy face?"
Well, I've looked through half a dozen volumes on the founders, but I can't seem to find anything that gives a nice easy list of founders relics – all the books I've found are so long winded and meandering that it would take me weeks just to find information on one item. You'd almost think someone had deliberately taken all the useful volumes out of circulation so the students would be uninformed and easily manipulatable … boy, that's a silly thought, isn't it?
"…"
"Hermione, you're scaring me…"
"Sorry about that, Harry. It's just… well, it makes sense."
Harry leaned back in his chair, carefully balancing the back two legs so he was stretched out in introspective position. "It does, doesn't it?" He said in an introspective tone.
It bears investigating, I do believe. Thought both Kneazle Woman and Owl Man simultaneously.
%%%%%%
Owl Man, feathered ally of Justice, stepped onto the reasonably wide ledge.
The view was excellent. It was thoughtful of the builders of this magnificent castle to engineer so many ledges, balconies, handholds, secret passageways and extraordinarily wide windows for the convenience of the local vigilantes. Probably reduces the ability to keep out intruders, but convenient nonetheless. Harry thought as he crouched and scanned the darkness for trouble.
Movement in the corner of his eye alerted him to someone's approach. Positioning himself to loom menacingly, should the need arise. He waited like a patient hunter.
He did not have long to wait. A sprightly young girl in dark, rather plain Muggle clothes skipped out into the night. Her long blonde hair and pale skin would have made her seem more ethereal, but the domino mask served to completely hide her identity. The radish earrings, however, provided the winged wonder a decent clue.
"Hold, young lady. What brings you to this unused and normally vacant tower?"
"I am no young lady. I am The Catchpole Oracle! Nothing goes on in Hogwarts that I don't know of it. " The drama was somewhat lessened by her giggle.
"Catchpole?" Owl Man asked, brow raised, the effect somewhat lessened by his own mask.
Almost conversationally, as if they had been friends for years, she responded, "It's where I'm from. I was just going to be The Oracle." Here hand moved dramatically, is if her name had been up in lights, but that was a spell only learning later years. She continued, "But I learned there was someone else already using that name across the pond, so now I'm The Catchpole Oracle!" Her hands were flung outward and fluttering her digits in a manner resembling spirit fingers. She made a spooky sound and then dashed off dramatically. "Remember me!"
Managing to keep a straight face, Owl Man did not give chase; after all, she hadn't done anything yet. If she was an information broker, then perhaps she might become an ally? "She's going to fit right in." He mused aloud and then went back to watching over the castle.