Chapter 10
Cluelessness
Summer started with a beetle in a bottle on a bookshelf above my bed. After a week, I decided it was time to let her out. Of course, she was clueless as to my intentions when I picked up her glass prison and unscrewed the top. Was this it? Was I going to kill her, or worse?
I unceremoniously tipped it over and dumped her out. As soon as she hit the floor, she transformed back into her disgusting, human form.
Rita was understandably nervous as she stood there trying to wipe and spit the taste of dung out of her mouth. All of the time, I was scowling and aiming my wand at her. I am certain she had no idea what I had in store for her. However, she knew it was likely that I was not going to let her just walk away.
"Am I—free to leave?" she asked, testing the situation.
"You will be. But first, you need to swear to put your quill away for—for a year. There will be no more 'Me, Myself, and I' or any other of your inflammatory articles," I said in a demanding tone.
Rita hesitated but finally agreed. She did not want to go back into the bottle or worse.
"Are you going to out me to the Ministry?" she asked, trying to press her chances of gaining an advantage. "I'm friends with the Minister, you know."
"I know that," I said in a sarcastic voice. "You are all about you—and the Minister is very useful to your personal agenda—just as you are to his. Well—I have been reading the news while you have been absent. The Minister is still busy denying Voldemort has been resurrected and may consider you an ally. But you have put out plenty of dirt on a lot of other people over the years—a lot of powerful people. A lot of them will not be as willing to give you a second chance as I am. If the word gets out about you being an unregistered animagus, you might just end up as a smear on someone's copy of yesterday's Prophet."
"Well. I already promised to put my quill away for a year," she said, appearing shaken by the image I had just planted in her mind. What else do you want? Is that it?"
"I want you to keep your word," I said with a tone as serious as a judge ready to pass a life sentence in Azkaban on a convicted felon. "Now. Get out of my sight."
Rita did not have to be told twice. She hurried out of our house and disappeared.
From there, my wish for a quiet summer to decompress from the horrors of my fourth year was short-lived. This was the hottest summer I can ever remember. Ron and I had been instructed by Dumbledore to minimize contact with Harry. That seemed really unfair, but he must have his reasons. I wish I knew what they were.
My first message to Harry was a birthday card with a box of chocolates. I kept it empty of real news. I wondered if Harry knew we were not ignoring him but following Dumbledore's instructions. Maybe, he was told the same thing about talking to us.
I received a return letter from Harry on 3 August. My mind exploded as I read it. "Here we go again," I thought, a tear forming in my eye. A pair of dementors had attacked Harry and his repugnant cousin, Dudley. The Ministry, instead of congratulating him for his quick thinking and success in fending them off, sent him a letter expelling him from Hogwarts. The Ministry was going to come and break his wand.
Later in the day, it was reduced to him getting to keep his wand. But, he was still suspended until a hearing before the Wizengamot ultimately decided his fate on 12 August.
All he did was defend himself and his awful cousin from a dementor attack near their home. It was little more than a case of underage magic—and a very justifiable and appropriate one. It should not be that big of a deal. And this is the same Minister who had basically laughed off Harry blowing up his repulsive Aunt Marge like a big balloon and letting her float out for the whole town to see. On the other hand, no one witnessed this to the best of my knowledge. Why was Fudge making such a fuss over it?
"This is so unfair, " my mind was crying as I sat in my room. " Why can't I talk to Harry? Why won't Dumbledore explain what is going on? They just can't do this. The wizarding law says you can use magic in life-threatening situations. "
The next day, I left for The Burrow so I could talk about things with Ron and his family. After dinner, we all went outside for a popular Weasley summer pastime—a hearty bonfire complete with marshmallows for roasting.
Fred and George had built the fire. That meant it was rousing with a few initial surprises. After the chaos settled, everyone started to find their places around it and started preparing their roasting sticks and marshmallows.
I had never toasted a marshmallow. My dentist parents did not engage in it on our camping trips. We sang songs, ate tooth-friendly snacks, and avoided sugary soft drinks. After a few moments of watching, I selected a stick and a couple of marshmallows before sitting down next to Ron.
Over the summer, I had made a personal commitment to myself to be more flirty and affable toward him. I was tired of waiting for him to make the first move. I hoped he would notice the effort and pick up on the hint.
A thin line of smoke and some occasional sparks were lazily drifting upward away from the low flames and hot coals. I skewered a pair of marshmallows onto my stick the way the others had done. As I reached out to make my first attempt at toasting, I also made my first move toward Ron. I cuddled up against him hoping he would cuddle back. Instead, he jerked upright and chastised me.
"What are you doing, ya nutter?" he snapped. "You're going to make me burn my marshmallow."
"Sorry," I grumbled as I moved away. Errrr! I wanted to toast Ron like a marshmallow. Instead, I quietly wondered what I would be doing if I had taken up Viktor's offer and been with him in Bulgaria.
The next day, we were whisked off to a place called 12 Grimmauld Place. As I was to learn, this was the ancestral home of Sirius Black's family. He had grown up here. As the only real ancestor still living other than his cousins, Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, and Narcissa's son, Draco, the house belonged to him.
Sirius had offered it up as the secret headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. The Order was composed of people who had opposed Voldemort during the Wizarding War and new recruits such as Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George. Ron, Ginny, and I were too young to join.
The three of us were enduring a stress-filled time compounded by the fact the Order was keeping everything secret from us. If not for Fred and George having invented something they called an extendable ear, we would not know anything. They were sworn to secrecy. We managed to use it to eavesdrop on the Order for a bit until Ron's mom found out and confiscated them. By the time they had made another, the Order had put an Imperturbable Charm on the door to prevent our future eavesdropping.
Harry arrived a short time later amidst a flurry of activity. A group of Order members led by Madeye Moody had rescued him from Little Whinging and smuggled him here. When Harry walked into the room where Ron and I were talking, I leapt up. I smothered him in an enormous hug. Meanwhile, I was still about zero for a hundred trying to get through to Ron. I wondered what he would do if I ripped off my clothes and threw them in a pile in the middle of the room.
Harry was irate about the lack of communication. He ranted and raved as we tried to tell him we were under Dumbledore's orders not to write. He said he felt like he had been bottled up at the Dursleys just like I had Rita Skeeter bottled up at my house. The row lasted for a long time before we settled back. I felt terrible about it. It is like Harry is cursed to never find happiness in his life.
Ron's mom finally came up and got us for dinner. We learned a fair amount as we ate. However, they were obviously holding back a lot more. The most disturbing thing was discovering that Snape was a member of the Order. Harry, in particular, was cross about it.
Over time, I found out more news in pieces. Much of what I learned from Fred and George could be called 'interesting' and 'disturbing' to phrase it like that dung beetle Rita Skeeter would. Charlie was recruiting foreign witches and wizards to join up against Voldemort. Bill had returned from Egypt to take a desk job at Gringotts so he could help out more. All of the Weasley siblings were both annoyed and amused that Fleur Delacour was also working at Gringotts to reportedly improve her English. Apparently, Bill was giving her frequent 'private lessons'. Ginny nicknamed her Phlegm. I tried not to laugh but I had to do it. Honestly, I think she is a worse wit than Fred and George much of the time.
However, all of this was small potatoes compared to the news about Percy. He had a big fight with his parents and left the family to become the Junior Assistant to the Minister. The Ministry is watching anyone who is associating with Dumbledore, according to Fred and George. The Minister thinks Dumbledore is trying to disrupt things and undermine his position. Mr. Weasley said Percy only got the promotion so he would help spy on the family and Dumbledore. Percy blamed his father's reputation surrounding muggles and his friendship with Dumbledore for holding him back. He said our family was on the wrong side of things and that he knew where his loyalties lie.
" How could Percy abandon his family? " my mind cried out in an incredulous voice. " I never really liked him, but this is unconscionable. Poor Harry. I saw his face when they said it. I can't imagine how a betrayal like that made him feel."
On the evening before the twelfth of August, I talked with Harry. He was very nervous about the hearing in the morning. " What would happen to him if they expelled him and broke his wand? Magic and Hogwarts was his life. Would he have to go back to living with his Aunt and Uncle? Would Sirius still be able to take him in? Would Voldemort still be stalking him? " These thoughts had been tormenting me for days.
"They just cannot expel you," I said. "I have read all about it. It simply is not fair."
"There isn't much fair going around these days," replied Harry.
"Dad always says 'The truth will out'," said Ron. I appreciated his optimism. I think Harry did, as well. I hoped it would prove itself well-founded.
I found it almost impossible to eat the next morning even though Mrs. Weasley had made a wonderful breakfast. I was a bundle of nerves worrying about what was going to happen at Harry's hearing. As Mr. Weasley prepared to leave with Harry, I looked at them pleadingly. I wanted to go. I had done a lot of reading on the subject of underage magic. I was certain I could be helpful. It is not fair that I am being made to stay here with nothing to do except wait to hear the outcome.
Once Mr. Weasley and Harry left, Ron and Bill started playing Wizard's Chess. Fred and George were lurking in a corner. They seemed to be working on some kind of secret project. Ginny was in the kitchen with her Mom baking. If Mrs. Weasley was not knitting, she was baking. If she was not baking, she was knitting. I do not know how anything else ever got done around the house.
Suddenly, Mrs. Weasley said they would return to The Burrow for a bit. I think she wanted out of Number 12 Grimmauld just as much as the rest of us. A short while later, we had left the rest of the Order through the Floo Network and were back to the fresh air of the countryside.
"Don't get too comfortable," warned Mrs. Weasley as we settled in. "We will have to go back to Number 12 in a day or two. This is just a mini-vacation."
Thus far, all of my efforts to break down the wall between Ron and me had proven fruitless. I started giving more and more thought to having chosen not to go to Bulgaria. I was starting to think of my decision not to go as a mistake.
I was a ball of nervous energy. I couldn't stay still or sit down. Finally, I walked outside and started wandering around aimlessly. Before long, I found myself poking around inside Mr. Weasley's workshop. It was a gold mine of curious muggle 'artefacts'.
"What's this? " my mind suddenly chirped as my eyes caught sight of something interesting. " A bicycle. I wonder if I can fix it up. It doesn't look too broken. "
My Dad had shown me how to fix my bike when I was younger. It turned out to be a fairly nice bike after I had cleaned the dust off of it. I had high hopes. Before long, I had put the chain back on the sprockets. It had an air pump clamped to its frame. With crossed fingers, I started pumping up the tires. Before long, they were fully inflated. Patching a flat was a lot of work and I doubted that I would find any of the needed materials necessary for tire repair lying about the workshop. Now, all I had left to do was straighten the handlebars and seat. Five minutes later, I was ready to test it out.
I wheeled the bike outside. It was time for a ride. As I straddled the seat, my mind was completely distracted from Harry. I pushed off and I was in motion. The old axiom 'Just like riding a bicycle' was true. Even though it had been years, within seconds, I was pedaling around the yard with my hair whipping in the wind like it was yesterday.
" I need to get Ron. He needs to see this, " I thought as I turned and headed back in the direction of the house. However, before I could get there, the door opened. It was Ron. His eyes were as big as saucers.
"Blimey!" he barked as he looked at me. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"
"I'm riding a bicycle, Ronald. What does it look like I'm doing?" I replied as I whizzed past the steps on the front of the porch.
"Is that what you call that thing?" asked Ron as he stared cluelessly at me in disbelief. "Dad's been trying to sort it out forever. He's going to go bonkers when he sees what you're doing with it."
I came back around. This time, I slid to a stop in front of him. "Haven't you ever seen someone riding a bike before?" I said with a big smile. "Half the kids in London have one of these."
"No. Not really," said Ron. "How did you fix it?"
"It was easy," I replied as I laughed to myself. I sometimes forget how sheltered pureblood kids are from the muggle world. "First I put the chain back on it. Then I used the air pump to blow up the tires. Finally, I turned the seat and handlebars around the right way. Almost every muggle boy knows how to do all of that. I'm a girl, and even I know how."
"How did you learn to ride it?" asked Ron as he gave the bike a closer look. "Did you take a class like we had for flying from Madam Hooch?"
"No. My Dad taught me. It's really quite easy. C'mon. I'll teach you."
About five minutes later, after three crashes, including one into the compost heap, Ginny came out of the door. "What's all of the noise out here?" she yelled at us.
"I'm trying to teach Ronald how to ride a bicycle," I said as he wobbled across the yard, unable to contain my laughter.
"Cripes! Is that the contraption from my Dad's workshop? He's been playing with it forever. Let me have a go at it," she shouted as she started running in our direction.
Ron was more than happy to give it to her when she got to us. "Here. Take the bloody thing," he said in an annoyed, frustrated voice. "Bleedin' waste of time, if you ask me."
" Oh, Ron, " I thought. " Why do I like you so much? You can be such a baby at times. "
"What do I do?" asked Ginny enthusiastically as she gripped the handlebars.
Ron turned away and skulked back toward the house. "Have fun," he grumbled. "I'm going inside."
I took the bike from Ginny and showed her how to get on it, start moving, pedal, turn, and most importantly, stop. Then, I got off and gave it to her. She got on and I steadied her as she started. I ran alongside her keeping her upright for a bit. Then, I let her go.
"That's it, Ginny. You've got it. You've got it," I cheered.
"I like it. Yeah. I like it. It's almost like flying," she gushed as she quickly gained control.
She was a bit clunky at first, like all of us. However, in short order, she was buzzing around the yard like a pro. As she passed the front of their house, I saw Ron scowling out the window. He quickly moved away when he saw me looking at him. " Oh, Ron. Don't be such a sourpuss, " I groaned.
"Where does that path go?" I asked Ginny. "It might be someplace better to ride the bike than around the area in front of the house.
"I think it goes to the village," replied Ginny as she pedaled past me.
"Do you mean Ottery St. Catchpole?" I hollered as she whizzed away.
"Yes," she shouted back.
"How far is it?"
"I don't know. I've never walked there. We always use the floo network."
"So. It's a magical village," I said.
"Both. But the muggles don't know anything about us magical folks being mixed in there."
"Cool. Let's ride off that way," I said.
Ginny turned and came back. She stopped in front of me.
"We've only got one bicycle," she said.
"I know. Let me teach you a trick we muggle kids know." I said as Ginny gave me a confused but curious look.
"Hop up here," I said as I pointed at the tube running between the seat and handlebars. "Sit on it like McGonagall and the other lady professors do on a broom."
I actually had a vision of doing this with Ron before Ginny appeared and he bailed out. We would both get on the bike and I would pedal us, or he would pedal us—it would not matter. Ron and I would ride out until we were far away from The Burrow. Once we were safely out of sight, a little upset would occur. We would crash in a tangle of bodies into the weeds. Then, the magic would occur. It would turn into a hug. Then, our lips would meet. Ron and I would finally find our 'together'.
Anyway, Ginny got into position and I pushed off. We were a little shaky for the first few turns of the crank. Then, we were rolling. As I got us pointed toward the path, I saw Ron staring out the window with a frown on his face. " Ron—Ron—Ron, " I thought with a disappointed mental shake of the head. "This could be us. We could be on our way to finding our happily ever after."
I pedaled through the moors and fens until we reached the top of a hill. The village was in sight from there. However, I was winded.
"I need a break," I huffed. "This is more work than I remember."
"Let's switch places," suggested Ginny. "I want another go at this."
"Sure," I replied. "Just be careful going back down the hill. Remember to use your brake if we get going too fast."
"Okay," she said. "Let's head for home. It will be lunchtime by the time we get back."
"Great," I agreed as I got off the bike so we could trade places. A moment later, we were under motion.'
Within seconds, we were gaining speed like Harry on his Firebolt. It was like clinging onto Harry while on the back of Buckbeak as we sped on our way to rescue Sirius. I am not certain I have ever gone this fast on a bicycle all by myself. And here I was a passenger on a runaway rocket bike with a giggling Ginny piloting it. I wanted to scream but I bit my lip. " I'm going to kill her if she doesn't kill us first." I thought.
Once we made it back onto the flat ground, Ginny skidded us to a halt. I started to open my mouth and unload on her. However, my tirade was nipped in the bud as Ginny exclaimed, "WOOOIEEE!! That was cool. Let's do it, again."
"No thanks," I squeezed out. "Once was enough. Thank you very much."
"Spoilsport," Ginny cackled like some kind of maniacal daredevil. "Let's go home then."
A short while later, we were back at The Burrow. I went inside for a drink. As I entered the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley insisted I try some of the biscuits she had just pulled out of the oven.
"These are delicious," I gushed as bits were falling onto my jumper. A moment later, she had me rolling dough and cutting stars and moons for the next batch. Even though I am not much for cooking, Ginny and I hung out with Mrs. Weasley. She managed to teach me how to get them in and out of the oven, and how to slice up apples while they made pie crusts. I was having fun and not thinking about Ron or Harry.
Once the pies were in the oven, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny started preparing lunch. Before long, she was calling everyone in to eat. The food was delicious, as always. However, when I finally heard the front door open, I hurried away from the table to see who was there. " It just has to be Harry, " my mind pleaded.
My heart leapt as I saw his smiling face from across the room. "I'm cleared of all charges!" he shouted. "I'm going back to school." I ran across the room and hugged him.
"I knew you'd get off," yelled Ron. "You always get off."
"They had to let him go," I gushed, unable to hide my relief. "The whole thing was rubbish. They didn't have anything to go on."
Meanwhile, Fred, George, and Ginny were dancing around chanting about Harry's freedom. Mrs. Weasley was trying to calm us all down. But it was impossible in the short run.
Once things finally returned to normal—at least normal for the Weasley house—we sat down and finished lunch. Mrs. Weasley seemed to know countless ways of doing things with chicken. Before long, everyone was full of salad, chicken and rice casserole, and apple pie. It was time to relax in the front room.
As we settled back into the chair and couch, I noticed that Harry had a melancholy expression on his face that was impossible to read. I could tell that something was troubling him. I pulled him aside as Fred, George, and Ron picked up the game of Exploding Snap they had abandoned when lunch was announced.
"What's the matter?" I asked, clueless as to his problem. "You don't seem happy. You should be overjoyed."
"It's Dumbledore," he replied after a moment of silence. "He arrived in the courtroom just as Fudge was about to start grilling me. He did a wonderful job of winning the case with the help of Mrs. Figg as a witness. Fudge was really angry. Once it was over, he left before I could say a word to him. I don't understand it. Why is he avoiding me?"
I did not have an answer. It made me feel quite uncomfortable. All I could say is we will have to wait until we get back to school.
The following morning, Ron walked into the kitchen. "What are you doing with that thing from Dad's workshop?" he asked cluelessly.
"This thing as you call it is a glass-balloon vacuum brewer," I responded with a smile. "I am going to make some coffee."
"I always thought it looked like it belonged in Snape's potions lab," said Ron as he continued to eye it.
"It is unusual looking. I read about it in Music class. Apparently, Beethoven was as fanatical and passionate about coffee as he was about his musical compositions."
"And those? What are those?"
"Coffee beans from Ethiopia. Beethoven claimed you needed exactly sixty of them to make the perfect cup of coffee," I replied as I pointed my wand at them and said 'Reducto'. The beans were, as I hoped they would be, reduced to a grainy powder. The room was instantly filled with the intoxicating perfume of freshly ground coffee. I could taste the air.
I poured the grounds into the top part of the coffeemaker. The bottom balloon was already filled with water. "Inflamare," I said as a tiny fireball shot out of my wand and lit the burner under the water.
As the water started to heat, I prepared a mug with some cream and two cubes of sugar. Ron was doing the same thing. Before long, all of the water had disappeared into the top balloon.
I removed the flame. A moment later, the vacuum created inside the cooling of the balloon started to pull the coffee back into it. Once it finished, I poured it into my mug.
"Brilliant," said Ron.
This entire conversation was going great. I decided to take another swing at getting Mr. Withouttaclue to step up. "I'll make a mug of it for you if you kiss me," I cooed to Ron in my flirtiest voice.
Instead of the desired response, Ron reached over and took a white packet from a nearby container. He tossed it into his mug. "Aguamenti Ferventi," he said. "I think I'll just have tea."
If scowls could boil water, he would not have needed to add 'Ferventi' to his charm. My wand hand was trembling. I did not know what I was about to do because Ginny interrupted things as she walked in. "I smell coffee," she said. "Is that the thing from Dad's workshop?"
"Yes. It's a coffeemaker," I said, feeling ire start to abate.
"Mrs. Snape is making coffee," cracked Ron, clueless to the can of worms he was opening with the knife in his words.
My scowl reintensified to the point the skin was ready to split off my forehead.
"Can I have some?" she asked, ignoring Ron.
"Of course," I said, once again starting to shake off my anger.
"But you'll have to kiss her, first," quipped Ron, unwittingly pressing the sharp edge of his verbal knife to his neck.
My rage meter shot up and broke off the needle. Ron, who had been up to now oblivious to my anger, saw my face as I reached for my wand. He suddenly got a clue. He dashed out of the kitchen sloshing hot tea on his hand and the floor. Ginny stood clueless as to the reason for the intensity of my reaction to Ron's barb.
A few minutes later, Ginny and I walked out of the kitchen with mugs filled with my Beethoven coffee. We sat down on the couch to watch Ron play Wizard's Chess against Fred and George. Our coffee—like Beethoven's 5th Symphony—was perfect.
