I know, I know. So late. I suck. :(
Chapter Twenty-Seven.
Every day for the week after the meeting in the Forest, Harry sprang out of bed early in the morning and sprinted to Great Hall, terrified that he'd missed the owl mail delivery. He never did, and each morning passed with no messages for him at all.
One morning, as the last owl flew away (from a second-year at the Ravenclaw table), Ron noticed him looking particularly disconsolate. "I could have told you it was a waste of time, mate," he said, reaching for his third kipper. "They seem to hate each other as much as they hate us. I tell you, you're getting up horribly early each morning for nothing." The last was said in a slightly peevish tone - that morning Harry had tripped over one of Ron's shoes on the way out of the dormitory and the resulting crash had woken everyone else up. As none of the boys were morning people, he had been buffeted with pillows as he fumbled, apologising, out of the door. Ron's bright orange Chudley Cannons pillow had hit him the hardest, and Harry had seriously considered leaving it on the floor and making Ron go to the effort of fetching it, before realising that permanently transfiguring it to show Malfoy's face would be a greater punishment.
"There's no guarantee that anything will come at breakfast, Harry," Hermione reminded him. "You can send owls at other times, you know - Hagrid sent you the owl telling you about the meeting in the Forest in the middle of the night, remember?" She shot a glance at Ron, clearly considering whether she should say anything else, but went on, "Besides, it wasn't as if anything was decided then and there. You've got to give them all time to think about it."
Ron snorted. "They hate each other. Let's not pretend they don't, Hermione." He waved a fork at her. "I know that you agree with me."
"There's nothing wrong with trying to be positive, Ronald," said Hermione, a trifle frostily. She would have gone on, but saw Neville, a few places down the table, finish his breakfast and get up to leave. Hastily, she put down her own fork and dropped her napkin on the table. "Look, I have to go. We can talk about this later, alright, Harry?"
He nodded absently, and Ron snorted again, but under his breath. This particular disagreement had gone on for the last week, and Harry wasn't disappointed not to have to sit through it again. For once, he though, Hermione did agree with Ron (who, admittedly, wasn't as convinced of his argument as he would have been otherwise), but the two of them had such a habit of fighting that they couldn't help themselves. Harry was certain that they actually enjoyed their squabbling. As much as it annoyed him sometimes (there were certain arguments he could have repeated in his sleep) he had to admit that it did help to pass the time. And at least this way, he was sure to hear both sides of things.
Ron's eyes followed Hermione as she left the Great Hall with Neville. "They're up to something," he said philosophically. "Wonder what it is?"
"Um, she said something about going to see Professor Sprout," said Harry absently, and Ron nodded.
"Probably after more homework," he said. "Mad, they are. I mean, Herbology's okay, but it's nothing special." He grinned hugely around a mouthful of fried potato. "Besides, it means she doesn't have to spend the rest of breakfast looking at me and knowing that for once, I'm right. They hate each other."
Unfortunately, Harry suspected that Ron was right.
The meeting in the Forbidden Forest had not gone well at all. Harry had hoped that when the representatives of the non-wizard magical community got together, their unanimous dislike of the status quo would be enough to bind them together into a sort of alliance. He had no illusions that he would be able to lead such a thing (in fact he was quite hoping that he wouldn't have to, given his complete lack of ideas on how to deal with Voldemort), but the thought of a common bond had been keeping him optimistic.
Sadly, dislike of the status quo was about the only thing that the other races had in common, and it didn't look like it was going to be enough. The goblins disliked the centaurs, because the latter had no use for gold and the circuitous nature of the half-human, half-horse breed left the more practical goblins incandescent with impatient rage. (Harry could sympathise, having been on the end of their puzzling announcements before.) In return, the centaurs tried extremely hard not to look at the goblins as if they were dirtying their hands and intellect in trade, but even Ron picked up on it. No-one trusted Lupin, as representing the werewolves - or rather, they trusted Lupin, but refused to extend that to his fellows. "How many do you speak for?" was a constant refrain. No-one wanted a bar of the Giants (except the werewolves, and that was probably only because Lupin felt he couldn't say anything else with Hagrid at the meeting), no-one was game to trust the vampires (except the Goblins - they had a lot of gold invested in expensive evening wear), no-one could agree on what other species they should consider as part of an alliance - if one were to even take place - the complications and petty arguments made Harry's head spin.
And, oh! He remembered. Everyone has nothing but contempt for the House Elves. That was one of the absolute consistencies - Lupin disagreed, but even he wasn't foolish enough to pretend that his fellow werewolves wouldn't stomp all over them if they had the chance. "Anyone who lets themselves be walked on the way that the Elves do deserves to be subjugated," Griphook had snapped. "No sense of self-respect at all." It didn't help the Dobby - free as he was - couldn't disguise the fact that he thought the Goblins insufficiently servile to wizards in general, and Harry in particular.
At Griphook's words, Hermione had gone red and expansive with rage, and Harry and Ron had promptly dragged her a few feet back into the Forest, and Ron had silenced her with an extremely well-cast mute spell, forming a bubble around her head and preventing her from being heard. "Grow up with as many in the family as I did, and you learn that one right off the bat," he had said, philosophically, wincing as Hermione snatched her own wand to undo the spell.
"Think a bit less of the Goblins now, don't you?" he had continued quickly, before Hermione could draw enough breath to scream at him.
"I suppose that you think more of them now," Hermione had returned nastily.
"Face it, Hermione," said Ron, with heavy patience, "They are a bit pathetic. I don't mean Dobby, of course," he hastily added, turning to Harry. "But I can understand why the Goblins don't think much of them. They're… very different, aren't they?"
"It's not their fault, Ron!" Hermione had gone on, waving her finger in his face. It didn't help that Ron was at least a foot taller than she was, and Harry hastily wiped a smirk off his face. "They're conditioned to it, they can't help it! How would you like to have spent all your life as a slave? Think you would know better, do you?"
"Harry did," said Ron simply. "Growing up with those awful Muggles. Locked in a cupboard, doing all the chores all the time while that fat pig of a cousin sat on his gigantic arse. Yet you don't see him fawning over people who treat him like dirt because of it."
"Don't bring me into this," Harry said, a trifle uneasily.
"That's different, Ronald," Hermione snapped.
"Oh yeah?" said Ron. "How? Dobby got over it - well, around most people anyway - so the rest of `em can do it too. You won't help them by treating them like kids, Hermione. If they're bound and determined to be treated like slaves, then that's their own stupid choice." He stumped off back to the edge of the meeting, where the different races could still be heard arguing, with pockets of ominous silence. "Never catch Goblins being so wet…" they heard him grumble.
"Well!" huffed Hermione. "I…. I never… that just proves he's completely missed the point!" she said, rounding on Harry, who hastily raised his hands and backed away. Hermione's eyes narrowed at him. "He's only siding with the Goblins because of Bill."
"Yeah, probably," Harry said. "But - and you know how I feel about Dobby - he might have a point - just a tiny one," he hurriedly added. "I have to say, I kind of thought that they'd get on better, but they're all so different. I mean, I can see why the Goblins and the House Elves don't get on. Can't you?"
"I suppose so," she admitted grudgingly. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."
"Not a lot to like here tonight," agreed Harry, and stretched out his hand. "C'mon, we better get back before we miss any more. Can you, um…"
"Oh, don't worry," Hermione said. "I can keep my mouth shut, you know. No fighting with the Goblins tonight."
"Just close your eyes and think of the books they sent you," Harry advised. "If you're really nice to them, they might send more."
"Harry Potter, are you implying that I can be bought?" Hermione said, poking him in the side. She gave him a frown that he knew was much less serious than it appeared - if only because her eyes had lit up at the prospect of any possible additions to her (already enormous) personal library.
The thought of doing anything that would deprive herself of more books kept Hermione (mostly) quiet for the rest of the evening, although the not-quite-argument with Ron went on as usual.
"She's going to have to admit I'm right one day," Ron said with satisfaction, scraping his last bit of toast over his plate. "C'mon, Harry, it's Care of Magical Creatures this morning. Like we haven't had enough of that lately," he finished, with a big grin.
* * *
Hermione was in a much better mood over lunch.
"All sorted with Professor Sprout?" asked Harry, curiously. Hermione always went above and beyond in Herbology (as she did in all her subjects) but she had never paid this much attention to Sprout before - unlike Neville - and it was unusual to see her spend so much time visiting that professor.
"Got enough homework?" said Ron, his mouth full, and Hermione wrinkled her nose at him in disgust, forbearing to comment and turning to Harry instead.
"Yes," she said, beaming. She fished a piece of parchment out of her pocket and waved it in front of him. Although he couldn't make it out perfectly, it looked like the work placement permission slip, with Sprout's signature scrawled across the bottom (along with a couple of smudges of dirt). "She signed my slip, and Neville's too! It's going to be so much fun…"
"So you're going, then," Ron said, swallowing suddenly and looking as if something disagreed with him. It only lasted a moment, before he pasted a smile on his face. "I mean, that's great, Hermione. I'm sure it'll be really fun for you." He stabbed at a pasty with extra vigour.
"Hang on a minute," Harry interjected. "Sprout? What's she got to do with anything? Have you finally decided where you want to go, then?" It wasn't a great surprise to him that Hermione had gotten her recommendation - any teacher in Hogwarts would have give it to her, bar Snape and Trelawney - but he had expected that she would have gone to either McGonagall or Vector, given that Transfiguration and Arithmancy were her favourite subjects.
Hermione nodded decisively. "I'm going to St. Mungo's. Healing sounds very interesting, you see, and you get to use lots of different skills, so I would get practise in all the others as well. Even Arithmancy is useful in deciding doses! And I'd very much like to work with different magical species… do you think I could do that?"
"You can do anything you put your mind to, that's what Mum always says," interjected Ron heartily, over mashed pasty. "I still say it doesn't really matter where you go, but you'll do fine, Hermione. You always do."
Harry really didn't want to burst her bubble, but something in him very strongly doubted that any wizard hospital would have a ward for house elves, or centaurs, or any other non-human creature. Still, she looked enthusiastic and he wasn't about to squash that. Ron hadn't gotten anything organised yet, and didn't know if his marks were good enough to get a recommendation at all, but he was still managing to be encouraging about it. "Um, maybe…" He saw her eyes narrow and quickly moved to change the subject. "I think you'd do really well in that, Hermione. When did you think it up?"
"Well," she started (completely missing Harry's sigh of relief), "I was talking to Neville - he's going there too, you know - and it was actually his idea. He's not interested in being a Healer, and he couldn't anyway - doesn't study Transfiguration, you know - but apparently they've got some of the biggest wizarding greenhouses and plant study areas in the whole of Britain! You know what Neville is like with plants-"
"I think he might be even better than you," Harry pointed out helpfully, and Hermione gave him a tiny glare.
"Yes, well. Anyway, it's a good place for research and experimenting with plants - poisons, allergies…"
"Cures," said Harry quietly, and the three of them shared a sympathetic look.
"Yes," said Hermione under her breath. "I don't think that there's anything that can be done for his parents, but there are other people in there who could use the help. It's not as though I haven't had some practice, with making the Wolfsbane potion and all. Trying to, anyway. And," she shot Harry a jaundiced look, "there is very little that Neville doesn't know about plants."
Harry smirked at her, and she hurried on: "So, he wanted to go there, and was telling me about the facilities, and, you know, I realised that I'd never really considered Healing before. I think the research side of it could be very interesting…"
"And I expect," said Harry, "that you weren't too thrilled at the idea of Neville going there every day by himself." He squeezed her hand under the table, and felt unaccountably pleased as she turned pink.
"There was that," Hermione admitted. "He's been a good friend to us, and Ron's right, you know - the placement itself doesn't matter as much as all that."
"Twice in one day!" Ron cried, raising his arms above his head in mock victory. "I don't think I've ever heard you say "Ron's right" as often before."
"Cost you an effort to say that, didn't it?" Harry grinned, and Hermione's cheeks turned pink again.
"Shut up, Harry," she said composedly.
"Say it again, Hermione," Ron interjected, a trifle smugly.
"Shut up, Ronald."
* * *
Later that afternoon, Harry was dawdling down one of Hogwarts' long corridors, content in the knowledge that he had a free period while Ron was at Muggle Studies, and Hermione was off at History of Magic class. He was torn between going out to have a quick flying practise before dinner and reluctantly heading off to the library to do some research for Potions. Quidditch was winning out, but when Harry ambled round a corner he realised pretty quickly that he wouldn't be doing either.
Long-faced Professor Sinistra was marching along the hallway, mumbling under her breath, with her eyes rolled up so far back in her head that Harry was surprised she could even see where she was going. By one long, skinny arm, she dragged a girl with an enormous, orange lion hat stuck over what had to be her own head.
Luna.
Professor Sinistra's eyes swivelled into an approximately normal position, as she came to a halt in front of Harry. Luna promptly walked smack into her from behind, and Harry realised that she couldn't actually see where she was going. Before either of them could say anything, Harry held up his hands in self-defence.
"Free period, Professor," he said, knowing that he'd get detention with any other excuse for wandering the halls during class time. "I was just on my way to the, um, the library."
"The library is in the other direction, Mr. Potter," said Professor Sinistra, a trifle frostily. "But seeing as you're here, if you could please escort Miss Lovegood to the Hospital Wing? I'm afraid she can't quite get there on her own, and I have enough to do."
"Sure," said Harry, figuring that it beat researching the use of Bandersnatch venom. "This way, Luna," he said, taking her arm and trying to steer her away from walking into the wall.
"Thanks, Harry," came a dim echo from inside the hat. "And sorry for being so much trouble, Professor!"
Her only answer was an aggrieved sniff, as the older witch marched back the way that she had come.
"Not very friendly, is she?" Harry commented under his breath, towing Luna behind him.
"Oh, she's quite nice really," said Luna from inside the hat. "She's a very good Head of House, you know. I just caught her at a bad moment, and she doesn't like Ravenclaws looking stupid in front of the rest of the school."
"I suppose. I know that McGonagall just about throws a fit when Gryffindor is playing up. I'm surprised the rest of the school can't hear her screech! Steps here, step up, Luna."
"Who says we can't hear her?" said Luna, tripping anyway. A slight giggle echoed from the lion's open jaws.
Harry briefly wondered if she'd been at the Firewhiskey, and then gave up, deciding it was probably just Luna. Besides, he wasn't a Prefect. If the junior students had been at the grog, it wasn't up to him to do anything about it. He just hoped Hermione didn't find out about it.
The passed a couple of girls in the corridor, both of whom stared at Luna and began to giggle. Harry shot them a hard glance, and they stopped suddenly and walked away, moving somewhat quicker than normal. He supposed he couldn't blame them for finding it funny, but they didn't have to laugh at her, no matter what had happened - whatever it was. He gestured at her head before realising she couldn't see him do it, and dropped his arm helplessly. "Er… so, what happened, anyway?"
"Oh. Well, I was trying to make it roar in time to `Weasley is Our King', but when I added in the bubbles, everything went wrong. The bubbles made the hat belch, and then it sort of gulped down my head. Then I think the soap got in its eyes and they sort of swelled shut. It's most irritating. But sort of fun, don't you think?"
Harry gaped at her, mentally trying out questions in his head, before deciding on one that seemed harmless and that didn't sound like he was accusing Luna of being a freak. He knew she got enough of that as it was.
"Bubbles?" he managed weakly.
The orange head nodded. "Big ones. I like bubbles. They're bubbly."
Harry tried again, manoeuvring her around corners as he went. "Why make a lion hat blow bubbles, Luna?"
She stopped suddenly, and the great heavy head swung around to look at him, blind swollen eyes leaking soapy bubbles. "But Harry," Luna's voice echoed seriously from somewhere behind the snout, "why not?"
A bubble popped in his face, shattering his concentration and reminding him that laughter probably wasn't the appropriate response. "No reason, I suppose," said Harry. He led her through the infirmary door and sat her on the nearest bed. "Won't be long, Luna. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey can get it off." She probably can't do anything about the rest, he thought.
Madam Pomfrey was indeed able to wrench off the hat by pouring sand in one giant orange ear ("It damps down the bubbles"). When Luna emerged, looking pathetically dishevelled with sand all through her hair, the healer had apparently taken pity on her, and offered to keep the hat in the infirmary until the lion's eyes healed up. "I'm sure I've got a lotion for that somewhere…" she was heard muttering, as the two students tucked into their dinner, perched on one of the hospital beds. Luna had had to stay for an extra hour while Madam Pomfrey re-grew the skin over her ears, and Harry had offered to stay with her so she didn't have to eat alone, or with Madam Pomfrey standing over her.
"That was nice of her," Luna said happily, shaking her head and leaving a sandy trail over the blankets.
"I think she's just glad that it wasn't me for once," Harry admitted honestly.
"You do tend to end up rather damaged an awful lot," agreed Luna, her eyes bulging protuberantly at him.
"It's not my fault!" Harry protested. "It's not like I go looking for trouble. It just seems to find me."
"Maybe you attract it," said Luna seriously, sprinkling some sugar on her boiled cabbage. Harry tried not to look. "It happens sometimes, you know. Have you been putting anything strange in your socks recently? Redcaps can come after you for that, you know."
"Nothing but my feet, Luna," said Harry, as seriously as he could. He was beginning to understand why Ron and Ginny enjoyed spending time with the younger girl. "And I'm not all that worried about Redcaps, to tell you the truth."
"I can see your point," said Luna. "I don't suppose Voldemort will try and gnaw off your toes, after all."
Harry swallowed his tea convulsively, feeling said toes curl within his shoes. "I really, really hope not," he said, hoping that she would change the subject. But Luna was looking at him with dreamy, unfocused eyes and he was beginning to feel like the Inquisition was back on again. At least this time Hermione and Susan Bones weren't there as well. The three of them together were just too much for Harry to handle. Besides, he reasoned, Luna can't be feeling very well with that stuff slathered all over her ears. I'm sure she's not interested in digging through things right now.
"Have you thought any more about why Voldemort would want your blood?" she asked, dropping her tone when Harry choked on a mouthful of tea and flapped his hands at her in horror, worried that Madam Pomfrey would hear. There was a dim clattering in a far-off store cupboard, so he was fairly sure that they were safe, but Luna understood him and they spoke in whispers from then on, between big bites of healthier food than Harry usually ate. He fished the lettuce from off his plate and gave it to Luna, who stuffed it into her cheeks like a rabbit.
"I can see that him taking my blood neutralises our wands," Harry said, "Or my wand, anyway. And when it comes down to power, he's stronger than I am. I might have won before, but I think that's just been a fluke." He chewed meditatively on his sandwich. "What I can't figure out is why Dumbledore would be so happy about him taking it."
"Maybe it puts you on more of a level playing field," said Luna. "Before, you were protected by your mother" - Harry was grateful that she didn't give him the pitying look that anybody else would have - "without that, even if it causes problems with the wands, you're more the same."
"And that's good how, exactly?" said Harry.
"I made my hat blow bubbles," said Luna, dreamily.
Harry just stared at her, completely confused, and she leaned over and patted him on the head like he was a very small child.
"I don't think I'll do that again," she said. "The hat seems to be allergic, poor thing." She was silent for several moments, leaving Harry trying to decide whether she'd finished or not. "But I might be able to decorate it another way," Luna finally went on. "Maybe with something better than bubbles. If there is such a thing."
"Better than bubbles?" said Harry weakly.
"Your mother's love couldn't have protected you forever, Harry," said Luna quietly. "It's nice having a mother, but when they're gone you have to learn to live without them looking after you eventually. It's not that bad, and I have enjoyed learning to cook Daddy's favourite currant cake, but even if my mother had lived, I would have learned to do that eventually. But you…" and she looked at him, a trace of lettuce hanging from one cheek, "maybe you can learn too. Voldemort changed you to be like him. He didn't mean to, but he did." Harry reached unconsciously for his scar. "But you weren't really equal, because you had something that he didn't."
"Mum…" said Harry, slowly, and Luna nodded.
"So this time he changed himself to be like you. To make you really equal this time. But now…" and Luna took her last bite of shepherd's pie, "maybe because of that, this time it's got to be you who makes the change, you who decides what you're going to be. So your wands won't be the same any more."
"I like my wand," said Harry defensively. "We fit. I wouldn't do as well with another."
"Not as you are now, no," said Luna. "But if you have to change to something that Voldemort can't follow you into, maybe it'll change too."
She reached over, and patted his hand. "It'll be your currant cake, Harry," she said.
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