Why Dance When You Can Slay The Dragon?

All right, this officially begins the second arc of the story. Parts of this chapter will greatly upset Harry/Hermione shippers, but the issue will be resolved by the end of the chapter, so worry not.

Read on!

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Chapter Five: Whenever you say “I have a plan”, I always end up in the hospital.

Hogwarts had ended up closing early, which was just as well, since the wizard public’s shock at the resurrection of the Dark Lord had resulted in half of the student body being withdrawn anyway. In lieu of spending nine months at the Dursleys, Harry had instead been sent to the Weasleys, at least until June. He wasn’t complaining; other than the pall cast by Voldemort, this would probably be the most fun he’d have in his life. He only wished Hermione could stay, but she wanted to spend some time with her parents, whom she hadn’t seen in some time.

It was still too cold to play Quidditch in the orchard, so days were spent indoors. Ginny unofficially filled in the missing female presence in the group, joining them in their various pursuits, be it a game of Exploding Solitaire or building a snowman in the yard.

January faded to February, and one snowy day found the group sitting around the fireplace. Harry was reading a book Hermione had loaned him while Ginny and Ron played a spirited game of chess. In the corner, a wizard radio not unlike the one Hermione had trained him with a lifetime ago sat on a table, pumping out soft jazz music.

“Hot cocoa,” Mrs. Weasley sang, bustling into the sitting room and handing out mugs. “Ron, extra chocolatey; Ginny, a hint of cinnamon; Fred and George, mint and vanilla; and Harry, good old fashioned hot cocoa. Enjoy.”

They all chorused their thanks, and she bustled from the room, and Harry inhaled a whiff of his hot cocoa. It smelled delicious, like chocolate, but also carried a hint of…apples? Had Mrs. Weasley added apples to his cocoa? She’d said old fashioned. Shrugging, he took a sip. It tasted divine, and he quickly downed the whole mug.

He went back to his book, vaguely aware of the others sipping their cocoa. Unfortunately, it seemed he had drunk his cocoa a little too fast, as a bubble erupted in his stomach, ending in a loud belch escaping from his throat. He covered his mouth.

“’Scuse me,” he said, and the rest of room laughed at the sound.

“Blimey, Harry,” Fred said.

“You swallow a frog?” George asked him. Harry grinned as a sound met his ears. A truly beautiful sound. He looked up to see Ginny laughing, her face transported in delight. He felt his face heat up as he watched her long after the laughter had subsided and everyone had gone back to their pursuits. His book lay forgotten next to him. Soon, Ginny seemed to feel his stare and covertly glanced at him, blushing when she saw him staring at her. She really did look cute when she blushed. How had he not noticed sooner?

“Do I have something on my face, Harry?” she asked, smiling nervously. Harry quickly glanced away.

“No, just…lost in thought.” It wasn’t a lie. He just didn’t want her to know that those thoughts were about her.

……

Valentine’s Day soon came, and Harry awoke to see a single white envelope waiting on his bedside table, sealed with heart-shaped sticker. Harry briefly entertained the notion that it was from Ginny, and his heart soared at the idea. Then he remembered that it was probably from Hermione. Happy nonetheless to be corresponding with her, he opened the envelope. It was a simple letter written in red ink.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Harry!

I know you’re not the type for mushy romantic things like poems and gooey pet names, so I just wanted to send you a letter and let you know that I haven’t stopped thinking about you.

How are you? Are the Weasleys treating you all right? I guess that’s a silly question. Mrs. Weasley absolutely loves you. I miss you terribly, and I hope we can see each other soon. I do love spending time with my parents, though. I may come visit sometime in March. Mum and Dad are going to a dentists’ conference in London, and I’ll be all alone.

I hope to see you soon!

Love from,

Hermione

Harry smiled as he read the letter. It would be nice to see her again. Still, he was slightly disappointed that he hadn’t gotten something from Ginny. He got dressed and made his way downstairs for breakfast. As he passed Ginny’s room, he saw her emerge and notice him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she said by way of greeting, then frowned. “You look bummed. Hermione not get you anything?”

“She got me something,” Harry said, pretending to pout. “But you didn’t.”

“Oh!” Ginny turned pleasantly pink at that. “W-well, I didn’t know you wanted anything. From me, that is.”

“Of course I do,” Harry said, walking up to her. “In fact, I can think of one thing that you can give me right here.”

“H-Harry, are you okay?” Ginny asked. “You’ve been acting strange lately.”

Harry wasn’t paying attention; he was watching her lips move. She had very pretty lips. And wonderful brown eyes. He leaned in, and their lips connected. Ginny gasped, and Harry took the opportunity to probe her mouth. She fought, pushing his tongue with hers and making the most adorable noises.

When they parted, Ginny was gasping for breath, and Harry was grinning.

“H-Harry?”  He shushed her with a finger over her lips, leaning in to kiss her again.

She didn’t fight this time.

……

“When did you realize that you liked me as more than Ron’s sister?” Ginny asked as they sat curled up on the couch, Ginny leaning back against Harry, his arms around her.

“A couple weeks before Valentine’s Day,” Harry said. “I was watching you, and it sort of…clicked. Well, it felt more like having an anvil dropped on me.”

Ginny giggled, and Harry marveled at the sound. She had the cutest laugh ever, really. “So, what do you want to do?”

“Sit here with you all day,” Harry said, and Ginny giggled again.

“We’d get all cramped eventually,” she said, and Harry shrugged; he was perfectly fine with that.

“Mail!” Ron called from the other room, entering the sitting room. “Ginny, Luna sent you a letter, and Hermione sent us – bloody hell!”

Ginny and Harry looked curiously at Ron, who was surveying the two with a completely shocked expression.

“Harry! What are you doing!?”

“Oh, Ron, don’t act the protective older brother,” Ginny said exasperatedly. “I can handle myself.”

“That’s not what I mean!” Ron said, pulling Ginny off of Harry. She staggered to her feet, fixing him with a loathing look. “Harry, what about Hermione? You two were all over each other back at school!”

“Ron, it was just a date to the ball,” Harry tried to explain, surprised at his overreaction. He stood and took Ginny’s hand. “We went as friends; that’s it.”

Ron looked at Harry as though he were speaking some foreign language. “You two basically came out and said you loved each other!”

Harry gave him a concerned look. “Ron, are you all right? You’re acting a little…off.”

“I’m not the only one,” Ron grumbled, stalking off to the kitchen. Harry shrugged and plopped back down on the couch, pulling a giggling Ginny with him.

……

Ron stepped into the kitchen to see his Mum preparing her customary afternoon cocoa. She added their preferred flavors, and then reached into her robes and producing a small bottle roughly the size of a bird egg. She pulled the stopper and dumped the contents into what had been dubbed Harry’s cup. The cup gave a spiraling puff of pink vapor, and even from his position, Ron could smell a citrusy smell he vaguely associated with Christmastime.

“What’s that?”

His mother jumped and turned to Ron, smiling at him.

“Cocoa,” she answered quickly, holding his mug out to him. Ron took it, but continued to eye his mother in confusion. “Be careful, it’s still quite hot.”

“You added a potion to Harry’s,” he said. “What was it?”

“Oh, he’s been looking under the weather lately,” Mrs. Weasley said pityingly. “Poor dear spent too much time in the snow yesterday. So, I added some Pepper-Up potion to his cocoa.” She walked past him and into the living room. “Cocoa! Fred! George! If you want cocoa, get down here!”

Ron wasn’t buying it. Even with his minimal knowledge of potions, he knew that a Pepper-Up potion was red in color, not pearly, like this potion had been. And his mum was acting awfully jumpy, to boot. Maybe it was connected to Harry’s strange behavior.

His mother was up to something, and he didn’t like it.

…..

Hermione clutched the letter Ron had sent her only last night in her hands as she dismounted from the Knight Bus in Ottery St. Catchpole.

I’ll meet you in town when you get here. We need to talk.

Ron

Sure enough, the redhead was waiting for her as the bus disappeared with banging sound that none of the muggles seemed to hear.

“Ron,” she hugged him, and Ron gave her a quick hug back. “Where’s Harry?” She was slightly disappointed that her boyfriend hadn’t come to greet her.

“Hermione, there’s a problem,” Ron said. “I thought I should tell you before you…saw them.”

“What happened?” Hermione asked, fearing the worst. Had Harry been abducted again? “Them”? Was his family involved somehow?

“I think…Hermione, I think my mum’s dosing Harry with love potion,” Ron said, and Hermione stared at him, disbelieving. Love potion?

“Ron, that’s…not very likely,” she said as they walked toward the Burrow. Ron shook his head.

“Then how do you explain…. Hermione, Harry’s convinced he’s in love with Ginny!”

Hermione stopped. Ron had made it a few steps before he noticed and stopped as well, making his way back to her.

“What?” she asked. Ron sighed.

“Back on Valentine’s Day, according to Ginny,” he began, “Harry told her that he wanted a Valentine’s gift from her and…kissed her. Hermione!”

For Hermione had fallen to her knees, cushioned by the soft grass of the hill. Ron knelt next to her.

“He doesn’t…like me anymore?” she asked. She couldn’t believe it. She’d been so happy when Harry had asked her to the ball, but how could she have deluded herself? She was just a convenience, just a quick date so that he didn’t make a fool of himself. As soon as she was out of the picture, he’d moved on to the pretty redhead.

“Hermione, I know he likes you,” Ron said, kneeling in front of her. “Look, I was watching my mum make cocoa for us the other day, and she added a bit of potion. It was pearly, you know? And it gave off a pink smoke the spiraled a little, and it smelled like oranges.”

Even in the throes of despair, Hermione did the calculations in her head. “Would you say it was mother of pearl?” She saw Ron nod. “And it smelled like oranges?”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “To me, at least. I asked Harry, and it smelled like apples to him. Ginny said it smelled like pine needles.”

Hermione’s despair was fast fading, replaced by anger. “Amortentia…. That…conniving…mother!” She stood and stormed off to the house with renewed vigor, Ron hastily following behind her.

……

Albus Dumbledore read his progress report, pleased with what he saw. Harry and the Weasley girl were getting on famously, and Harry seemed quite at home at the Burrow. He might not even have to send him back to Dursleys this year if all went well. Molly was running low on potion, though. Severus would have to whip up another batch.

He startled by the sudden flaring of green flames in his floo.

“Albus!” Molly Weasley’s unmistakable voice shouted. “Harry’s gone!”

……

“Reducto!” the hex had made short work of the Weasley’s front door (and most of the surrounding wall), giving Hermione plenty of room to storm in, followed by a slightly awed Ron.

“Hermione Granger!” Mrs. Weasley shrieked, having dropped the tray of cocoa she had been preparing. “What on earth do you think you’re doing!?”

“I could ask the same of you!” Hermione shouted. “How dare you trick Harry!? How DARE you betray his trust!? Betray my trust!? Did you hope you could get your big happy Weasley family!? Or did you just want the Boy-Who-Lived as a son-in-law!?”

Mrs. Weasley fumed silently, reaching for her wand.

“Expelliarmus!” Hermione shouted. “Petrificus Totalus!”

Mrs. Weasley’s arms snapped to her sides, and she toppled to the floor. Hermione turned, dashing into the sitting room, where Harry and Ginny were running in, holding hands. Hermione felt a pang of dismay at the sight, but it was quickly absorbed by the anger she still felt at Mrs. Weasley.

“Come on, Harry,” she said in a voice of forced calm. “We’re leaving.”

“What?” Harry asked, looking at the scene in the kitchen in shock. “Hermione, what’s going on? What did you do to Mrs. Weasley?”

“I’ll explain later,” Hermione insisted. “We need to go. Pack some things.”

“Ginny’s coming, too.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

……

It was only because of his complete trust in Hermione that Harry allowed himself to be led to the fireplace, where Hermione had thrown in some floo powder and shouted, “The Leaky Cauldron!” One spinning ride later, they were hopping a normal muggle bus to a hotel. Tomorrow, they would head for Hermione’s house.

Later that night, through a letter Ron had discovered in Mrs. Weasley’s room, they learned the extent of the plan against Harry.

Molly,

I hope this letter finds you in good health.

As you know, due to circumstances outside of my control, The Dark Lord has arisen again. I have discovered a means to combat him and vanquish him forever this time. However, the process requires Harry Potter, and he is somewhat out of reach at this point.

You may or may not have heard that Harry Potter and Hermione Granger have become an item. I feel that this would be detrimental to his development as a wizard, as Miss Granger would cause him to lose focus on the task at hand. That is why I need your help. Enclosed are eight phials of Amortentia keyed to your daughter, Ginevra. Slip one of these to Harry once every week for the foreseeable future (I will send more as needed), and he will realize his feelings for Ginevra. I believe your daughter is a wonderful match for young Harry and will help him stay the course that has been laid before him.

I hope for your cooperation. It is my belief that we will soon not require the potion. Harry simply needs a push in the right direction.

I am, your most sincerely,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

P.S. And do say hello to Arthur for me. I haven’t seen him in ages, it seems.

Hermione read the letter with trembling hands and passed it to Ginny, who looked ready to cry. Harry took the letter and read through it, his eyes widening in horror. He looked up at Ginny, then over to Hermione, then back to Ginny, and finally back to the letter.

Then the potion began to wear off.

“They…they…” he muttered. “How….” He looked up at Ginny, who now had tears streaming down her face. “Ginny, how could you?”

She sobbed and slumped onto the bed, covering her face with her hands. Ron hastened to comfort her, and Hermione took Harry’s hand, dragging him out into the hallway. As he walked, Harry registered Hermione for what felt like the first time.

“Hermione…. I’m so sorry,” he said as they stopped, and Hermione hugged him tightly.

“It’s okay, Harry,” she said. “I don’t blame you. Not one bit.”

Relief washed over Harry, and he hugged her to him. As they broke apart, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, smiling slightly as she pulled away.

“You’ve gotten taller,” she accused, and Harry shrugged.

“I’m a growing boy,” he said, and Hermione hugged him again.

“I missed you so much, Harry,” she said. “Just being around you.”

“Likewise,” Harry said. “Ron’s all right, but there’s a lack of any intelligent conversation.”

Hermione giggled, but it seemed mentioning Ron had triggered memories of Mrs. Weasley, and her face darkened.

“That foul woman. And Dumbledore! We trusted him for four years, Harry. How long has he been manipulating us?”

Harry shook his head. He had always seen Dumbledore as the rock, the one solid in his life. Whatever his problems, Dumbledore could fix them. Now, knowing that Dumbledore couldn’t be trusted, it was as though they were lost.

“We need a plan,” Hermione said. “We need to contact someone.”

“Who?” Harry asked. “Everyone’s connected to Dumbledore somehow. Sirius is in no position to help us, and neither is Lupin. Everyone else is from Hogwarts, and we don’t know if Dumbledore’s gotten to them.”

“Professor McGonagall,” Hermione whispered, and Harry shook his head. Even their own head of house was on the suspect list.

“Can we trust anybody?” Harry asked, and Hermione appeared to be deep in thought. Moments later, her eyes brightened.

“What about that American?” she asked. “What was his name? Leon Mason?”

Harry had to think for a moment who she was talking about. “Oh, the one that…saved me?” He didn’t mention Voldemort or the graveyard, and Hermione glossed over it, too.

“He didn’t seem to be on good terms with Dumbledore from what I saw,” Hermione explained. “He even once said to be careful around him. Now I understand what he meant.”

“We should write him as soon as possible,” Harry said with a nod, glad to have a course of action.

They agreed to write the American professor tonight and headed back to their room, where Ginny was sitting quietly on the bed. The sound of running water told them that Ron was in the shower. The redheaded girl looked up at the two of them and looked ready to cry again. Hermione rushed over and gave her a hug.

“It’s all right, Ginny,” Hermione said, rocking her back and forth. Ginny closed her eyes and leaned into Hermione’s embrace. “We don’t blame you. Once Harry sets his sights on you, you just sort of don’t ask questions, do you?”

Ginny nodded with a nervous laugh. “H-He was paying attention to me for the first time, and…I just ignored all of the warning signs.”

Harry stood off to the side, a little sore at Ginny for taking advantage of his befuddled mind, but as Hermione had said, when someone you’ve pined after suddenly shows an interest, you get swept up. He sat down on Ginny’s other side and patted her on the shoulder.

They’d figure this out.

……

“Good morning, students of Denson Magic Academy!” Leon Mason spoke into the mouthpiece of his PA system. “It is March 21^st, 1995, and, the weather is a balmy seventy two degrees. Our first major announcement of the day is…the large snowy owl on my desk.”

Leon glanced at the owl in question, completely forgetting that he was conducting a school-wide morning announcement.

“Emily! What’s this owl doing on my desk!?”

“Sir, you’re still live, and what owl?” his Assistant Principal asked, walking into the room. “Oh.”

“Take over,” Leon sighed. He loved giving announcements, but the owl was staring at him intently, not diverting its gaze. As Emily resumed the announcement, Leon picked up the envelope that the owl had brought him. His name was written across it in very neat print. He opened it and unfolded the parchment. Definitely British wizards. No one used such outdated means of post anymore.

Dear Professor Mason,

You may not remember me, but my name is Hermione Granger. You saved my boyfriend, Harry Potter, from Voldemort. You told him to call on you if he needed anything. I’m afraid that we do.

“Man, I knew he was bad, but I didn’t know he was this bad,” Leon said as he continued to read the letter, which recounted a tale of such deceit and manipulation that it wouldn’t be out of place in a daytime soap opera.

“What is it, sir?” Emily looked over his shoulder, and Leon rolled his eyes.

“How many times have I told you not to call me ‘Sir’?” he asked, turning to face Emily, who barely hid a smirk.

“When we’re at work, it’s ‘Sir’,” she insisted, and Leon chuckled, looking back at the letter.

“I’m afraid I may have forgotten something in Britain,” he said with a long-suffering sigh.

“You mean that very important ring that I gave you for your birthday?” Emily asked, already heading for the filing cabinet and drawing out a form.

“The very same,” Leon said, removing the ring in question from his finger handing it to her. “I just didn’t want to consider the possibility that it was here, and I made an emergency trip to Britain.”

“A wild goose chase,” Emily said, filling out the required travel expense forms for the school.

“You tried to warn me,” Leon said, coming up behind her and kissing her on the cheek.

“Be careful,” she said, and Leon winked, stepping back and disappearing in a wisp of black smoke.

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Don’t mess with Hermione’s man, I suppose, would be the moral of this chapter. And those of you screaming hate at Ginny, she wasn’t informed of the situation. She just knew that the object of her schoolgirl fantasies was suddenly paying a lot of attention to her. What would you do? The next chapter shows the fallout of this little explosion, and the quartet reunites with a certain American.