Chapter 20: TGIF
A/N: Thanks to all who have reviewed and who will review at the end of this chapter.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
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Friday, June 8
As a charmed boombox belted out encouragement to "Fly into the danger zone," two wizards engaged in a mock dogfight above an open meadow on a hot summer's day.
The charmed broomsticks roared like the afterburners on a muggle fighter jet, and had wands strapped to their handles facing the direction of flight. The two wizards used Sonorus spells to communicate with each other, combining clips of borrowed movie dialogue with disparaging comments about the other's sagging Quidditch skills.. Whenever one thought that they had the other in his "sights" he'd reach down to the wand and fire off a series of white projectiles, which splattered paint whenever they made contact with a solid object.
It was only after each was nearly completely covered with paint that the two wizards, wearing goofy grins and helmets bore the monitors "Prongs" and "Padfoot," responded to the beckoning of a very-pregnant witch and a wizened old wizard and landed for a picnic lunch.
It was the fourth time that Harry had poured this memory into the pensieve, and for the fourth time he failed to hear or see anything that he thought shed light on horcruxes and the battle against Voldemort. Not that that was the point of this trip into the mist; this particular memory had almost reached Mirror of Erised status as something he wanted to experience over and over again.
The most pressing topic of conversation during the picnic lunch was potential baby names. Harry's given name was apparently a fused compromise between his father's first choice (Horatio) and his mother's (Charlie). Sirius fought hard for the name "Regulus," noting that the firstborn son of Lily and James was destined to be a "Little King," as well as the brightest star in the Lion's House at Hogwarts. Lily, however, expressed some understandable reservations about naming her child after Sirius's Death Eater brother. On that note the three wizards changed the conversation topic; they were trying to keep the conversation light. His mum wasn't very comfortable physically, and was concerned about giving birth to a magical child with a mediwitch on hand rather than an obstetrician. The memory ended with Dumbledore reassuring his Mum that Poppy would be there when it came time his delivery.
Harry scribbled down a reminder to ask Madame Ponfrey if his first visit to her infirmary (and to the bed he knew far to well) had been made while still inside his mum. He then scooped the memory out of the pensieve, and set the stoppered vial back into the tray that Dumbledore had conveniently labeled "Happy Memories for Harry."
Fancying a break from his study, he placed the pensieve and vials back into Hermione's trunk, and restored the security wards that guarded it. Harry then walked next door, where Hermione was reviewing the information provided by the Royal Historian on a DVD disk. A nuzzle, a kiss, and a whisper provided all the incentive she needed to join Harry for a brief respite.
They walked hand-in-hand downstairs and out to the garage, where Ron and Steve were doing a collaborative study on the magical/muggle interface within Sirius's motorcycle. They were quite pleased with themselves, having just discovered that the motorbike's alternator had been encased in a thin layer of dragon hide. Ron needed no convincing when it was suggested they break open some butterbeers on the backyard patio.
"Hard to believe that we've only been here a week," said Harry, as the three plopped down on comfy deck chairs. He gave a wave to the next-door neighbor, whose attitude towards him, likely nearly everything else in Little Whinging, had changed markedly from the previous year.
"Yes we have been rather busy, haven't we?" Hermione said with a smile, as she reached for Harry's hand.
Harry waggled his eyebrows and started to sing in a low voice. "I'm heading down the Atlanta highway…"
"Not right now you're not, sweetheart," Hermione said with a chuckle.
"Cor, Hermione, what have you done to my best mate…he's singing?"
"Lookin' for a love getaway."
Ron winced. "Erm, too much information, Harry."
"Sorry," Harry said, with a goofy grin. "probably too knackered after this morning's workout, anyway."
Ron took a swig from his bottle. "With you there on that point…at this rate that slave-driver will have us outrunning hexes by end of summer."
The physical training regimen that Roger Granger had set up for them was breathtaking in an entirely literal sense. The three had been roused early on the morning following Harry's job offer by a retired SAS drill sergeant, who led them on a three-mile run, which they then unhappily learned was just the warm up. Calisthenics, push-ups, crunches and a second, even longer, run followed. Any resentment the three might have held towards Roger for finding such a sadistic taskmaster to train them was countered by the fact that he and his wife were suffering right along with them. It also helped that Roger had arranged for a full-time massage therapist to set up shop across the street to work out at least some of their aches and pains.
"Well, you better hope you can run faster than a hex," Hermione replied, "because you certainly can't drive faster than one."
"Why would he bother driving away from a hex?" Harry asked. "With all his experience he'd be better off crashing into it."
"Oy, don't start that again," Ron complained. "It's not my fault muggles put curves in their roads."
Hermione sprayed her butterbeer as Harry broke out into a hearty laugh.
The driving lessons had been less stressful physically, if not mentally. A private driving instructor took the three out in the Bentley each afternoon. This gave each of them a turn behind the wheel, and gave Hermione ample opportunity to practice her obliviation and magical dent removal skills.
"Well then, Ron" Hermione said, "why don't you show us what you've learned in your muggle studies field course and fetch us another round from the muggle refrigerator."
"Very funny, Hermione," Ron replied as he headed towards the kitchen.
Roger had also arranged for tutors to provide instruction on individualized topics. Hermione was taking lessons on the muggle sciences of physics and chemistry from a local college professor, a London-based martial arts instructor was instructing Harry on the basics of swordplay, and Ron was learning how to make toast.
Ron really didn't mind the chiding he took from the other two; that his field-based muggle studies program began with Brian working in a muggle kitchen meant that he was always close to a hearty snack. Having grabbed three more bottles of butterbeer he tucked a bag of crisps under his arm and headed back to the patio, where he found Harry's chair shoved next to Hermione's and her head resting on his shoulder.
"Oy, find a room, you two," he chided.
Harry broke out the falsetto:"Love Shack, baby Love Shack… Love Shack, baby Love Shack"
Hermione sat up and punched Harry's shoulder. "Save it for karaoke night, Potter,"
"Yes, dear," Harry replied with a grin.
Ron chose to ignore their intimacy. "So Hermione, remind me again who these chems are and why you're learning about their history."
Hermione scowled. "That's chemistry, Ron, not "chem history."
"Alright," said Ron, "same question."
"Thought we went through this after our meeting with Professor Lupin the other night," said Harry. "Muggle chemistry is sort of like potions class, except without the greasy git instructor."
Tonks and Remus has visited Number Four the same night Harry had made job offers to Hermione's parents. Even though Tonks had told them earlier that week that she and Remus had finally connected, it had been great to see them stroll up Privet Drive holding hands. In fact, between the two of them, Harry and Hermione, and Ron having returned from his date with Luna with a grin on his face and a small bite mark on his neck, it had been hard to get beyond the gossip.
Harry had asked Remus what he was doing for work as he showed Harry how to control Sirius's motorbike. Remus had replied that his job prospects were now especially limited, given that Snape was his wolvesbane supplier and Slughorn had resigned his post on the day of Dumbledore's funeral. Since wolvesbane had a short shelf-life, he'd been forced to ask Headmistress McGonagall if she'd allow him to spend the next full moon in the dungeons of Hogwarts, under guard of the House Elves and some of their unique confinement wards.
Hermione's suggestion that they could try to brew the potion themselves was appreciated, but not very helpful given the fact that the recipe required the fresh flowers of some particularly rare magical plants. It turned out that Snape's value as a potions master wasn't just due to his skill…it was in no small part due to his private contacts and network of suppliers. Dumbledore's death and Snape's disappearance had, in fact, dried up the supply of standard potion ingredients, as wizards and witches began hoarding and stockpiling for what looked like dark days ahead.
The chemistry class that Hermione was taking was providing the background she needed to discern whether a solution to this problem could be found in the muggle world. She was hoping that at least some of the standard potion ingredients were needed for their chemical, rather than magical, compositions. In the interim, she had added "Potions Laboratory" to the list of things for Clan Potter to acquire.
Having polished off the bag of crisps, Ron went back into the house for another bag. He returned to find Hermione and Harry swapping stories about their independent studies that afternoon.
In Hermione's opinion, the medieval text that provided the image of Lord Gryffindor and his shield contained enough new information by itself to warrant a revised edition of Hogwarts, A History. The book was a biography of Godwin, Earl of Sussex, and his son Harold Godwinson (also known as Harold II), who was the last of the Anglo-Saxon kings that Gryffindor had served. It was Harold Godwinson who'd lost his crown (and his life) to the Norman invaders in 1066 during the battle of Hastings. Godric Gryffindor's exploits were featured prominently within this work; dragon management, the magical transport of various royal mistresses, and production of healing potions all seemed to be the order of the day for the Royal wizard. The Order of Merlin was mentioned as a working body of wizard warriors, active not only against the Normans but against the occasional Scandinavian attack (the Norse were, at the time, still in control of good chunks of the northern coastline at the time).
Apart from the pleasure of learning more about the everyday life of their house namesake, Hermione was enthralled by two different facts. The first was that none of the dozen or so depictions of Lord Gryffindor showed a wand in his hand. It was always his sword (and, on occasion, the shield as well) that he held; in contrast, all of the five other wizards shown wearing Order of Merlin badges were wand wielders. The second fact concerned Godwinson more than Godric…he was reportedly killed when an arrow pierced his eye. Harry thought the fact unremarkable (there being all sorts of gruesome ways to be killed back then) until Hermione reminded him that one of the Hogwarts ghosts they'd seen at Nearly Headless Nick's Death Day party was dressed in armor and had an arrow coming out of his forehead. The possibility that this ghost was none other than Godwinson himself made finding and interviewing this ghost close a top priority on their Hogwarts "To Do" list.
Harry reluctantly reported on his afternoon's work; he knew he should have been reviewing the stored memories that were more likely to have information about the horcruxes. He was, in fact, trying to formulate an apology at the same time he was joking about almost being named after a Death Eater when Hermione's eyes went wide and she attacked Harry with a huge bear hug. Ron's restatement of the need to find a room was ignored, as Hermione exclaimed that with Harry's description of the memory she knew not only who R.A.B. was, but where Slytherin's locket might be located.
But before she could explain herself, they heard the squeal of brakes, the slam of a car door and the roar of a very irate uncle. Curious as to what the fuss was all about, they headed inside, where they found Vernon Dursley displaying a deep shade of red.
"You," he hissed, as he pointed at Brian, "this was you're doing, wasn't it?"
"Whatever do you mean?" Brian asked with a slight grin.
Petunia rushed to her husband's side. "Vernon, what's wrong?"
"They've transferred me at work," he replied.
"Transferred?" Petunia asked nervously. "You mean to a different division of the company?"
"No," Vernon scowled "To a different country."
Dudley, who'd been doing his best to stay away not just from the Trio but from Brian and his list of jobs, entered the kitchen and the conversation. "Where we moving to, Dad?" he asked.
"Romania…our new plant opened there this past spring."
Petunia felt faint, as she grabbed the back of a kitchen chair.
"Could be worse," Dudley said. "Heard there's plenty of pretty girls in Rome."
"Rome is in Italy, you dolt," Vernon replied.
"Oy, Vernon, my brother the dragon tamer lives in Romania," said Ron. "I'm sure he'd be happy to help you get settled."
"Say, there's an idea," Hermione chimed in. "Charlie might even be able to introduce you to some friendly vampires."
Harry found it hard to do anything more than smile and repeat the word "Brilliant" as a mantra.
"So Vernon, when do you start your new position?" asked Brian.
"Week from Monday, as if you didn't already know," Vernon replied as he stared at Harry. "Least you'll lose your precious protection without us around."
Harry thought for a second. "Suppose you'll be leaving next weekend?" When Vernon nodded, Harry nodded back as he looked to Brian and said "Two weeks." Brian returned the smile as Harry turned back to his Aunt and Uncle. "Suppose we'll muddle through somehow…imagine you'll be looking for a housesitter?"
Vernon renewed the lustrous shade of red around his collar. "I'll burn the house down myself before I let you…"
"Say Vernon," interjected Brian, "is it true that your company has a distribution center in Nigeria?"
Vernon held his tongue as his brain wrapped around that threat. "I imagine we can work out a rental agreement."
"Rent your house to your own flesh and blood?" Brian asked, as he reached for his cell phone.
"Fine!" shouted Vernon, who stormed out of the house and into his car, followed by a worried looking wife and child.
The Trio had the decency to wait until the door slammed behind Dudley before breaking out in laughter, and congratulatory handshakes for Brian.
Brian asked Harry "You did say that two weeks was all you needed to spend tethered to your Aunt, right?"
"Yes, I did," said Harry. "Merlin, Brian you've outdone yourself with this one."
"Now wait," said Brian, "you really ought to hear about some remodeling ideas that Roger and I have been kicking around before saying that." He then reached into a kitchen cabinet drawer and pulled out a roll of blueprints.
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