To Ride the Carousel Again
Chapter 14
The rights to recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling,
and those she has assigned further rights to.
Unfortunately, I am not an assignee.
On a carousel, one can ride a horse and be a knight.
Or sit on a bench and glide along.
The brass rings do not get grabbed by bench sitters.
*/
Approx. 5,100 words
*/
Shocked at what Harry had done, she nodded numbly. Walking to the back of the store, he saw his 'friend' sitting in his open cage. Eyeing Harry, the ginger-furred, squash-faced half kneazle was in the middle of a classic low front, high hind-end cat stretch when his attention sharpened and without warning bounded from his cage, leaped off Harry's shoulder and landed on the shoulder and chest of a very surprised Hermione Granger.
The rumbling purr from the half-kneazel could be heard through the store.
/*
The ambush he had laid for his bushy-haired friend had been a great success. While Hermione was lost in scratching, petting and cooing at her old/new, though she didn't know it yet, familiar, Harry gathered up the supplies he had previously bought. A cat bed, cat food, treats, cat brush, traveling cage, et al were stuffed into her backpack. Harry had been surprised to find out from the owner of Magical Menagerie that kneazles and part-kneazles did not seem to like cat toys.
Now, the only problem would be getting her parents to agree to Hermione's new 'pet'. Since Harry had not asked for permission prior to buying him for her, he was really, really going to have to go the begging-for-forgiveness route.
Harry called Ypres to an unoccupied corner of the Leaky, and with a 'pop', the two youngsters and one still ecstatically bonding half-kneazle were standing in her bedroom.
Leaving the other two to their bonding, Harry took Ypres down to the kitchen and although it took some explaining, had the elf create a weatherproof magical, invisible to muggles, 'cat door' in the small wall space available between the counter and the door frame.
Poking around the kitchen, he found the ingredients to make a nice loin of pork dinner for the evening.
"Even if they throw me out on my ear, they'll have a nice dinner after," he thought.
It was two hours later when the Granger parents entered the house and followed their noses to the delicious smells emanating from the kitchen. They were a bit surprised to find only Harry busily occupying the space.
Seeing the parents casually looking around obviously wondering where their daughter was, had Harry checking to make sure nothing would burn in the next fifteen minutes and, with a sigh, turned his full attention on them.
"Mister Granger, Missus Granger could you give me a moment please?"
At the looks of alarm that appeared on their faces, Harry hurriedly exclaimed, "She's fine. Nothing untold happened to her today."
Harry visibly winced at the last. With another obvious sigh, he asked, "Could you please follow me to her room? I promise she's not hurt in any way."
Harry found he was going to have to hustle to keep ahead of two concerned parents who, despite his assurances, were positive their baby had been hurt while wandering around in that land where bad foreigners roamed. The Land of Magic.
Almost running, Harry pulled up at his friend's door and politely knocked. A "Come in" was returned. Harry swept the door open and promptly slid out of the way as two by now distraught parents charged into the room, determined to save their baby girl.
The sight that greeted them halted them in their tracks. Their daughter was sitting on the side of her bed, cuddling a ginger-haired fluff ball in her lap that was mostly covered by her bushy hair. In fact, the colour difference was the only way to tell there was something on her lap. That and the purring louder than any cat either had ever heard. She never even raised her head as she spoke. "Isn't he just the most wonderful, adorable, bestest kitty you've ever seen, Harry?"
She burrowed into the mass of fur with both hands eliciting a doubling of the volume of the purr rumble.
It was the word 'bestest' that really jolted the parents. Their daughter never, ever talked like she was a teenage magazine or celebrity tabloid-reading, gum-popping teenager.
They had just started to turn to Harry when he motioned them out the door and dazedly they complied.
Harry quietly gathered himself and with a last glance through the open door, prepared to lie through his teeth. "Today I thought I would take Hermione to the Magical Menagerie Shop. She missed you two so much last year, I hoped she might find a kitten she liked and if you let her have it, I would buy it for her as an early birthday present.
Instead, we found that big half-kneazle furball and it was instant beyond love at first sight."
Harry stopped and took a breath, thankful he could return to the truth. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, despite whatever you are thinking about how Hermione is acting, what is occurring is one of the true positive sides to magic. That rather ugly cat has probably been waiting for Merlin only knows how long to meet your daughter. The two of them are forming a 'familiar' bond."
Harry was not sure he had understood what he thought he heard properly, but between purrs, he thought he had picked up something about adding to the scars on his face.
At their disbelieving looks, he continued on explaining. "One of my magical gifts is to be able to sort of understand what animals are thinking, planning, or sometimes speaking about. Right now, she is gaining an absolute loyal friend. One who will love her unconditionally from now until death parts them."
He paused seeing the disbelief on their faces as they looked between him and the scene through the doorway. "In addition, she now has a guardian who will fight if someone attacks her, and who will die trying to keep her from harm."
Harry leaned back against the hall wall and let the parents watch from the doorway as their daughter utterly lost herself in a process she really did not understand, yet accepted wholeheartedly.
*/
Harry was a bit surprised when Hermione met him and Ypres at the kitchen door just before eight on Wednesday morning. She had the newly named Crookshanks in her arms but was ready to go to the manor for another day of magic learning.
Her parents had agreed to dinner at Harry's Manor because he needed their help. The fact that dinner would be absolutely fabulous had no bearing on the decision. Hermione's raised eyebrow, and quiet huff when they announced their decision was tactfully ignored by the other three.
The day was mostly a repeat of Monday, except Lupin taught the spell and potion work from roughly late November of the coming school year. And, at Harry's request, he taught them the advanced Scarpin's Revelaspell charm.
Harry wanted some protection against another Wit Dulling, or worse, potion being given to him without his knowing.
Harry ignored the questioning look Lupin cast his way at the unusual request.
Once again, Hermione was a daemon of concentration. She was obviously taking the challenge of dumping Harry on his arse Friday and getting some answers, very seriously.
Crooks was the model of decorum. Mostly. Harry was sure he was the only one who saw the half-kneazle lying on a nearby chair, staring fixedly at him with one paw extended from which the claws kept extending and retracting. Apparently, Crooks had taken that ugly comment very personally.
One of the big pluses of holding dinner at the manor was that the Grangers could quiz Lupin about the familiar bond thing that Harry had talked about. Having another adult rationally explain just what had happened went a long way towards acceptance and stopped the niggling thoughts that Harry was to blame for it.
After dinner with the invited Granger parents, a large dining room table became a hub of activity. Harry had Ypres bring all his office supplies, a black-bladed, gold-handled antique dagger for a letter opener, and the thirteen boxes, each with their row of elf-sorted muggle mail.
Lupin cast the Geminio Charm on the Binders and suddenly Harry had all the binders he would ever need.
Hector made a comment that Harry must have spent hours of work sorting over ten years worth of mail into such a neat set collection by company and date. Harry blushed at the praise but promptly stated that Ypres had done the sorting in less than half a minute. Hermione gave him a look that told him the house elf questions had not been forgotten, merely postponed.
Harry was just grateful for the extra time but still puzzled. In fact, Harry would admit to being slightly scared by her non-Hermione actions.
It took a few minutes, but with Mrs. Granger and Lupin each ensconced with a book in nearby chairs, the other three set up a production line. Mr. Granger opened the envelopes and gave a couple of pages a quick once over, then handed the whole statement to Harry, who punched the paper sheets. He handed the punched sheets to Hermione who placed them in the binder in the proper order. Once they found the rhythm, the first binder started filling up.
They had only been working a bit over ten minutes when Mr. Granger called a halt.
"Harry, I think we're not doing this quite right. Most of these firms have sent you quarterly return statements. You probably don't care about quarterly statements from ten, eight, or even four years ago. All you really need right now is the year-end statement for the last eleven years."
Harry's blank look had Mr. Granger giving a silent sigh that combined both frustration and disgust at the people who had raised Harry to be so ignorant.
"It means they sent an updated report on your mother's investments every three months. But the important one is the last of the year statement which is what the government uses when it wants to take your money in the form of taxes."
He thought for a moment. "What we really need is a copy machine for the year-end summary sheet, and then we could have a complete report binder and a simplified year-end summary binder."
Lupin spoke up from his chair, "You've just seen the spell for it. It's taught in fourth year. Called the Geminio Spell."
"That would work, Dad," said Hermione. "We can't perform it, but maybe Mr. Lupin can help?"
With a smile, Remus stood next to Harry and after Harry punched the holes, he duplicated the needed page and Hermione set the complete statement in one large binder and the single sheet in a smaller binder.
Oddly, it was Harry who called a halt after an hour. Everyone was starting to flag and it was not his intention to work his free labour to exhaustion. He made a point to a pouting Hermione, that her parents were still catching up at their dental practice from the vacation, and what they were helping him with was important, but not need-done-by-tomorrow vital.
"Besides you've been neglecting your new friend, and I'll bet he would love a brushing tonight."
Hermione whipped around and hurried to His Majesty's chair where a scoop up and a cuddle soon had the purr machine running at full throttle.
*/
Thursday was a day to mostly people watch in Diagon Alley. Harry had Ypres pop him to Hermione's house. When she saw how he was dressed again in his oversized hand-me-downs, she raised an eyebrow.
"I know you have much nicer clothes, Harry. Is this poor orphan boy disguise part of your keeping secrets?"
Knowing that some comments from his friend were inevitable, Harry had planned an answer.
"Yes, Hermione, this is part of my disguise that I have to keep for the next nine days."
That there was an end date to all this mystery had her 'need for knowledge' all a quiver. Yet, her obviously changed friend was taking his secrets so seriously that she was now second-guessing herself to start her interrogation tomorrow as she planned.
Harry then had Ypres pop the two of them near the Leaky Cauldron. They entered the Alley through the aged pub and stopped short in surprise. Neither one of them had been in the alley just before the start of school and had never seen such a jostling crowd of witches and wizards of all ages trying to do their shopping.
Harry grabbed onto Hermione's arm to keep from getting separated.
The sheer noise of people attempting to make themselves heard by their friends over the din of the crowd was exacerbating the situation.
Harry had a problem. The size and noise of the mob was starting to panic the not-teenager teenager. The press of the herd was becoming stifling. He had not realized his grip on Hermione's arm was strengthening by the moment.
She turned at the pain. Seeing Harry's face made her forget her discomfort. He was sweating profusely, panting as though he could not get enough air to breathe and he looked as though he was about to be sick to his stomach.
"Oh, Merlin! He's about to have a panic attack!" she thought. "If he has it here in public, the newspapers will get the story, probably wrong, and the kids at school will be unmerciful. That arse Malfoy will have a field day harassing Harry with it all year."
Reaching over and grabbing Harry's arm, she looked frantically around for succor.
There! An oasis in the mob. Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. She dragged him over to the only empty table she could see, plopped him into a chair, and then tried to hold him, yet not look like she was aiding him.
She kept whispering what she hoped were calming phrases in his ear. She had to order for both of them when the waiter appeared. A five-scoop banana split with two spoons. That gave her an excuse to keep sitting close and the mild roar of the crowd noise covered her voice as she slowly talked him down.
Harry slowly became aware of where he was and what he was doing. One of the cold spoonsfuls of ice cream shoveled into his mouth finally broke through to his conscious mind.
Mechanically swallowing the cold confection, he became aware of the soothing voice talking in his ear.
She actually was not making much sense with the words she was saying. It was the soothing tone of voice that he realized he was concentrating on. After another couple of minutes, he now understood she was talking to him like he was a distressed three-year-old, (Or at least he had dreamed of someone talking as though they cherished him.) or like she was trying to soothe Crookshanks.
That thought more or less awakened Harry. He shamefacedly started to wiggle out from Hermione's grasp when she clamped down on him with an iron bar.
"Don't try to move, Harry," she murmured in his ear. "A couple of kids I recognize from Hogwarts have passed by, and I'm sure they are wondering what we are doing while sitting here looking very friendly. Sorry, Harry. I tried to keep you from getting talked about if you had kept on with that panic attack, but I'm sure the gossip will fly around Hogwarts now."
Harry understood what had happened now. It had happened before when Aunt Petunia had been forced to take him to London during a late Christmas shopping trip. He had forgotten about that. And almost happened again in the Leaky Cauldron when Hagrid was bringing him to Diagon Alley four years, last year, whatever, ago. (1)
"Hmmm, you know, why am I trying to get away from her hug? This feels rather good. Urk, bad Harry, bad Harry. She's your friend, your best friend, and if Upper Management was right, a True Friend."
Harry stopped wriggling, and the iron bar became a friendly arm once again, but Hermione did not move. And she had stopped murmuring in his ear. He rather missed that.
As his awareness improved, he saw some of the crowd looking at the two of them. A couple of kids Harry vaguely thought he recognized were openly staring.
Harry started feeling ashamed. He did not know why he was, and it would take years for him to uncover how, but it stemmed from the Dursleys. For ten years they had ingrained into him that freaks deserved to be first stared at and then mocked.
He tried speaking to her, but could not even make a squeak. Clearing his throat, he tried again.
"I . . I . . think I'm alright now."
Hermione would not admit to it, but her desperate hug to keep Harry from forever being a target of 'The Day Harry Potter Collapsed in Diagon Alley' gossip, had morphed into an embrace she found she did not want to end. The awkward one-armed side-hug-from-the-side felt nicer than her usual 'Harry deserves a hug' hug.
She was in the midst of realizing that her parents had always been a pair of huggers, and had passed the act onto her. But this time, as usual, she had initiated a 'Harry Hug' because he needed one, and now found herself wanting to not stop because it felt so-o-o good.
"You're sure?" she murmured, not moving an inch.
Harry was torn. His best friend was hugging him as was her norm, but this time he was enjoying the contact more than usual. He reckoned that the first hug from her he was comfortable with was after she had recovered from being petrified. Before her, contact with other people had usually meant pain.
"Yeah. Like you said, people are starting to stare." Her slow withdrawal as she released her hug was almost torture. He really did not want it to stop.
And when she was back to sitting squarely in her own chair, Harry felt like something precious had been taken from him.
The pair spent a few more minutes listlessly spooning melting ice cream into their mouths before Harry spoke. "Let's get on with it. Your books aren't going to wait all day for you."
It took Hermione a few moments before she realized Harry had spoken. Her mind was deep in a self-pity party where Harry had somehow rejected her. Numbly she started to stand and was shocked when he reached out and took her hand as he started forging a path through the crowd.
To Hermione, it was better than a hug. Lasted longer too.
They purchased more potions supplies, more parchment, more Ever Filling Quills, and finally in a small, out-of-the-way used book shop they found several muggle books, including the first three Dragon Riders of Pern books that Hermione bought as a belated birthday present for Harry. He decided even if she was clairvoyant, he was not going to try riding a dragon if things got that bad two years from now.
When they had acquired everything they thought they needed or wanted, he asked Hermione what she wanted to do after lunch.
Her reply left him staring.
"In five days, I will go back to hearing Malfoy constantly denigrate everybody, Lavender and Parvati giggling incessantly over boys, and having to endure Ron's abominable eating habits. I think this might be my last chance to blow something up. Take me to your basement."
So, he did. And they did. Blow things up, that is.
VvvvvvoooooovvvvvV
Friday had arrived.
Hermione could tell Harry was feeling nervous as he waved to her parents, who as usual, were leaving for work. She waved a little but most of her attention was on her friend. Her best friend, maybe her only real friend.
Three weeks ago, she had been bound and determined to do whatever it took to get her friend to let her in on his secrets. As his friend, it was her right.
But now, what she thought of as her 'right', was looking to her more and more as just being nosey. Yes, she had told herself that all she really wanted was knowledge that could help her be a better friend to Harry. However, as she had replayed all her conversations with Harry this summer, he truly believed that she could betray him to Headmaster Dumbledore and not even know she had done it.
She had no idea why Harry had changed his attitude towards Headmaster Dumbledore from last spring, but something had occurred that had changed his worldview and his considerable awe of the headmaster.
And considering Professor Dumbledore had probably saved Harry's life a few months ago, that was a huge change.
Worse, her own world was tilting off its axis as she now found herself desperately wanting to understand her highly disturbing dreams. They had started the night after her first visit from Harry this summer.
One seemed to be of her looking into a pair of yellow eyes, and she wasn't sure what she felt then, but it was a bad feeling. Another was an older her being hit in the chest by a very painful curse by an evil-looking man during a spell fight somewhere.
The worst of her other repeating dreams was the one where she and Harry were attacked by what she now knew was a werewolf, and Harry died trying to protect her in sickening sprays of blood and gore.
And, he had told her just how the Headmaster and the Greasy Bat, er - - Professor Snape, could steal from her mind whatever she thought about. Then, he had given her books on combating the invasion of her privacy, and how to stop it.
Today she resolved to question Remus Lupin about help in learning how to 'clear her mind' as when she tried while on holiday, she could not stop thinking about something when she tried to shut her mind off.
However, before finding out all those answers, she has to beat Harry in a magical duel.
/*
The two youngsters talked very little as they made their way through the manor in the company of Remus Lupin. He seemed to be regarding them with contemplative resignation. He had tried to have them be more realistic and duel in robes, but Harry had nixed the idea saying he wanted them to duel in whatever they were comfortable wearing.
Hermione had on jeans, half-boots, and a plain long-sleeved dark blue t-shirt. Harry's jeans, t-shirt, and shoes were in all in black.
The two did some loosening up while Remus activated the protection wards around the dueling platform that was elevated two steps above the surrounding floor.
"Listen up, you two," Lupin said in a serious tone of voice. "No Diffindo and no Depulso Charms will be cast. I do not want to have to take one of you to St. Mungo's with a problem I cannot fix."
"Go stand on your marks, and I will give the start signal."
He fished in his robe pocket and brought forth a white handkerchief. "When this hits the floor, draw your wands and start."
Harry walked to the far mark, turned, and faced Hermione. He smirked a bit as he saw she was wearing her six-hex wand holster today. However, he had practiced diligently with his own holster and could now reliably catch his wand as it was ejected.
They both watched intently as the white piece of cloth fluttered to the floor of the dueling platform.
Harry managed to snag his wand slightly awkwardly and had to take his eyes off Hermione to make sure he now was holding it properly.
He was shocked to see a charm erupt from her wand as his ears registered 'Flipendo'.
"How had she drawn her wand so fast?" his mind screamed as he desperately dodged right, and then had to drop to the floor as 'Locomotor Mortis' burst from Hermione, followed by a scramble left as 'Immobolus' erupted from her mouth and wand.
Harry leaped to his feet as she didn't cast an immediate spell. Instead, she stood there smirking at him, wand still raised.
"Mistake," thought Harry. "She should have kept casting."
Into the small lull, it was now Harry's wand that ejected a spell. 'Carpe Retractum', with its sparkly blue track zipped towards Hermione.
Harry watched wide-eyed as she merely twisted her torso out of the way and . . . 'Slugulus Eructo's' yellow-green hose spray light had him jumping right again.
'Verimilious Tria' and 'Taratallegra' were hot on its heels. The only thing that kept Harry out of the Leg Locker Curse was he'd faked dodging back right again, or she would have nailed him.
She'd paused again. Brushing at the slight burn mark on his cheek that a spark from the Green Sparks Charm had given him, Harry decided that toying with his friend was going to end up with him missing a dodge, and being forced to spill his guts.
'Wingardium Leviosa', 'Rictusempra', and 'Expelliarmus' ripped out of his wand. With his intent powered up, the spells traveled faster than Hermione was used to. She ducked the Levitating Charm, but the Tickling Charm caught her shoulder, and as she started laughing, her wand was yanked from her hand and flew to Harry who caught it deftly. (2)
"The duel is awarded to Lord Potter," solemnly intoned Lupin. He was still working on controlling his reaction to how well the two twelve-year-old, pre-second-year students, who had never dueled before, had performed.
Especially, since according to Harry, their DADA class had been miserably taught by someone named Quirrell.
A 'Finite' from Harry stopped the hard-laughing Hermione as he walked over to return her wand.
She regarded him for a moment, raised her nose in the air, and in her plumiest voice stated, "Well Mr. Potter, I see you have managed once again to thwart the forces of good, and will not have to answer my questions."
Once again, Harry was surprised by the lack of unhappiness from Hermione that she was not going to be able to demand answers until he caved in and gave her answers.
The look on his face must have tipped her off as to his confusion.
Taking pity on him, she said in a voice that sounded eerily like Dumbledore, "Whether you intended to or not, you have already given me a date after which you said you would no longer have to keep your secrets, secret."
Her smirk became positively feral, and scary Hermione/Dumbledore continued. "After that, it's produce some answers, or the consequences will be . . most dire, Mr. Potter." (3)
With a look of almost horror on his face, Harry remembered telling her he needed to keep his secrets until the Friday after they returned to Hogwarts. The relief at not having to placate her today with half-truths and evasions was offset by the realization that meant on Friday next, he was going to have to tell the truth, maybe the whole truth, and very few evasions from the truth.
Harry was working himself into a panic when common sense returned to his thoughts. After Friday, he hadn't planned on hiding anything except his journey into Upper Managements territory, and the whole soul mate thing, and maybe . . .
As usual, when thinking about the soul mate part of his knowledge, he drifted off into his inner mind. How in Merlin's name was he going to find his supposed soul mate without trying to kiss every girl in Hogwarts?
Oh yes kissing. During his dictionary search for what he now knew was a boar spear, he had also looked up osculation.
He had briefly wondered if Hermione would maybe let him try out his Soul Mate kiss with her? The fact that his face had flushed so red he felt it radiating heat had stopped that line of thinking. Besides, she just wasn't the type of girl who could just be a snogging buddy, even when she became older.
Harry returned to the outside world as Lupin was finishing delivering a critique of Hermione's performance in the duel.
"You will find Miss Granger that as you learn more spells, you need to pick half a dozen or so and drill them into your muscle memory. Stopping to decide what spell you should use next gets you bespelled every time. Pick short incantation spells when possible. Mix shield spells, shield breakers, annoyance spells, and spells that can't be shielded against. Keep your opponent guessing."
Lupin turned to Harry. "Lord Potter, have you planned anything for the rest of the day?"
Harry in turn looked at Hermione. She had lost the duel and he was afraid she would just leave in a huff.
"How about some things we won't get at Hogwarts?" she said. "Like a history lecture on the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or from Harry's bragging, you can give us another competent potions brewing session, or maybe some more Transfiguration? Oh, and I need you to give me some help with my learning occlumency."
And so, the late morning and afternoon had passed just as Hermione had outlined, and when Harry left her at her house, she was smiling at the world again.
*/
A/N:
Another oddity from the pair not being immersed in wizarding culture. All the hoops they
went through with duplicating the binders could have been done by Ypres, and the Ministry
would not have detected anything.
One: An extension of Harry-gets-mobbed-at-the-Leaky from HP&SS.
Two: They're not even second-year students yet. Sort of. With no dueling experience.
Even in Book 4, GoF, Harry learned some nifty spells that he can't use now, but no dueling experience.
Whadaya want? Siege Engine spells? Organ Rotting Curses? AK's? From second years?
Three: I imagined Hermione imitating Richard Harris/Dumbledore from the CoS movie.
Didn't he have a line with 'most dire' in it?
Alright! The set-ups needed for Reptilia28's challenge are mostly done. And in this story,
Harry died so early that he doesn't even know there are many more questions.
On to the Express! Sort of.