A/N: So I started writing this as I was on the I90 going through Indiana on the way to Wisconsin for my cousin's wedding. And OMG, I passed a sign that is advertising a clothing store called Gladrags. It's real! And it exists somewhere around Laporte, Indiana! I'm way too amused by that.
Anyway, so sorry this has taken so long to get out. I've had some personal issues lately; my landlord decided to kick everyone out by the end of the month with less than 30 days notice. Highly illegal-they have to give us at least 60 days but they were being very difficult with it. Nevertheless I've found a new apartment I'm moving into in two weeks but with the running around trying to find a place in a hurry I was a bit stressed and not in much of a position to write. But now that things are taken care of, life is good! It might be a while again after this chapter because my new apartment isn't wired for Internet so I have to get that all set up but as soon as it's running I'll be updating again.
On another note, chapters will now be uploaded to Portkey before FanFiction, so you guys get the first crack at everything!
Disclaimer:
"I washed my hair," says Lang-Snape, who is standing in a spotlight looking none-too-impressed. "I'll have you know that it was a lot more difficult than one would think." His Snape-ish hair may no longer be hanging in greasy strings, but it's certainly as entertaining as ever. Without the grease to tame his hair, it was flying about in a frizzy, puffy manner that outdid Hermione's worst Bad Hair Day.
"Funny, I didn't think lather, rinse, and repeat were difficult instructions." Says the Author, twiddling a wand in her fingers.
Lang-Snape gives her a disdainful look. Apparently being transformed into Snape is affecting his attitude. "You do know you're not a real witch, right? A wand isn't going to work for you when you're not magical."
"Need I remind you that I used this wand in the last disclaimer to turn you into the git you are now? And need I remind you that I have no qualms with using the Imperius on you to do my bidding? Or worse?"
He seems to resign himself to his fate, and clears his throat to face the audience. "Alright, alright. The author of this story, Crystal H., lays no claim to anything that rightfully belongs to JKR. The plot is hers, certain original characters are hers, but anything that you recognize is most likely Jo Rowling's." He pauses to look at Crystal and make sure his words are acceptable. She nods, so he continues. "And I'd like to add for myself that if you think this story is absolutely horrendous and you'd like to see me, William Lang, transformed into someone far more desirable than Snape, please leave a review saying so! I don't think she'll do it otherwise!"
A rather loud snicker meets his words. Suddenly he is feeling a breeze around his privates that wasn't there before. He looks down and is horrified by what he sees. "Oh, this is low. Even for you." He growls.
He is still standing, illuminated by the spotlight, but he is no longer a perfect replica of Severus Snape. He now resembles Tim Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Crystal happens to think that the sequined corset, thigh-high fishnets and chunky high heels suit him very well.
"I swear, if this stuff isn't gone by the next chapter…" Lang-Frank says threateningly.
"It's just a jump to the left!" she sings softly. Lang-Frank can't help himself and follows instructions. "And then a step to the right!"
He goes through the entire dance, with Crystal laughing at him the entire time. "And once more! Let's do the time warp again!"
<><><><><>
"For goodness sake, Minerva! When I told you she was awake I wasn't expecting you to run off and find them right away!" Madame Pomfrey admonished.
Minerva gave the Healer a stern look. "If it had not been for Mr. Potter and Miss Granger's quick thinking in bringing Miss Weasley to you, you wouldn't even have a patient to wake up."
Madame Pomfrey grumbled as she administered a few more potions to Ginny, turning her back on Headmistress McGonagall and the two students. Harry's eyes were wide as Ginny's head lolled to one side so she could look at him. She was deathly pale, but there was still a spark in her eyes.
"So…sorry…" she whispered, her eyelids fluttering shut.
Hermione shook her head angrily. "Ginevra Molly Weasley, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for!" She ran over to her bedside and grasped her hand tightly. Ginny had been her best friend and confidant for too long to let a boy come between them, and Hermione was overwhelmed with concern for her friend.
"Must…not fail," Ginny said in a low tone, and a look of anguish crossed her fine features. The potion was still causing her pain, but as her eyes met Harry's she felt nothing but happiness. He had come to her rescue as always, and just his presence was calming the feelings raging through her body. The potion seemed to sense that she was close to her target, and was letting up a bit.
"Ginny, we know about the potion. Professor Dumbledore told us everything. It's called the Obeir Potion, and it's like combining all three Unforgivables into liquid form. Grindelwald used it in the last war; that must be how Riddle knew about it. He used it on Aberforth, Professor Dumbledore's brother." Hermione explained. "Just…don't try to do anything you shouldn't, okay? We've found a way to get you out of this. Just trust us."
Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. Seeing Ginny lying in the hospital wing because of Tom Riddle was really getting to him, and he knew that if he so much as tried to say anything about it Hermione would hex him senseless for blaming himself.
"We're going to have to have a drinking night," he said to Ginny, trying to lighten the mood. "The key to countering the potion is alcohol, so Hermione and I spent last night at The Three Broomsticks picking a drink you'll like."
Ginny cocked an eyebrow at him. "What makes you think that you know what I'd like?"
Harry seemed confused at her sudden ability to form a complete sentence, but Hermione cleared it up for him.
It's the potion, love. It senses that you're nearby, and since she's supposed to be going after you, it's not hurting her anymore. It thinks she's doing what she should be. Hermione placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"I…uh…well, it tasted good, and it had juice and it reminded me of you and…" Harry stumbled.
"What's it called, Harry?" Ginny asked, smiling at him.
He and Hermione exchanged a glance.
"It's um, the…Redheaded…"
"Oh for Merlin's sake, Harry, just say it!"
Hermione laughed. "It's called the Redheaded Slag." It was just the name of a drink, what was the big deal?
Ginny's eyes narrowed at Harry. "So this drink, the Redheaded Slag, reminded you of me?"
Oh bollocks… "No, not like that!" Harry exclaimed. "I don't think you're a slag, it's just the name of the drink!"
"Honestly, Ginny, it's not what you think. It's based off of a muggle drink called the Redheaded Slut. Wizarding version's got a bigger kick to it but that's the only difference. And everything else we tried you'd probably either think was disgusting or too sweet and I really wouldn't take you for the shot kind of girl." Hermione interjected.
"I'm perfectly capable of doing shots, Hermione." Ginny stated evenly, doing her best to ignore the slag reference. She kept shooting inconspicuous glances at Harry whenever she thought Hermione wasn't looking. She may have backed off in the hospital, but her feelings hadn't changed.
"Yes, well, you wouldn't want to try the ones Madam Rosmerta makes, trust me. The woman's completely mental, I tell you!" Hermione declared.
Harry snickered. Usually it was Ron saying that about her.
"Honestly, the woman thinks that dragon's blood and fairy tears are perfectly normal drink ingredients, and that it's perfectly acceptable to strain a drink through a woman's knickers!"
Ginny fixed her with an odd stare. "Um, Hermione? Dragon's blood and fairy tears are normal drink ingredients. In the Wizarding World, anyway. Fairy tears are a bit rare, but dragon's blood is actually fairly common. Pricey, but common."
She flushed at her mistake. "Yes, well, I don't exactly go gallivanting about Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley sampling Wizarding alcoholic beverages, now do I? It's not like I would know that."
"Hermione Granger, not know something? What is the world coming to?" Harry quipped, earning himself a smack upside the head from his girlfriend. "Right, well then. Um, at any rate, Ginny should probably write to her parents to let them know what's happened to her." He conjured a quill and some parchment, and set them in front of the redhead. "Well, go on, then."
Ginny lifted her arm to begin her letter, and a look of pain flashed across her face. "I can't, Harry," she sighed dejectedly, passing the parchment and quill back to him.
"The potion," Hermione said sadly. "It won't even let you write…"
Harry looked dejectedly at his ex-girlfriend. "Sorry, Gin. I didn't even think it would affect you that much." He bent down to give her a hug in apology, but Hermione pulled him back by the shoulder before he could wrap his arms around the younger witch.
"Oi! What the bloody hell was that for?!" Ginny spouted angrily. How dare Hermione stop Harry from hugging her!
The potion, Harry… We know she was supposed to take you to Voldemort. What if she has a Portkey on her? We haven't gotten it out of her system yet; she'd still be obligated to follow his orders. Hermione rationalized.
I think that Madam Pomfrey would have removed anything potentially dangerous from her when we brought her here, said Harry.
Even so, I'd feel safer if we held off physical contact with her until we knew the potion was taken care of.
"Sorry, Ginny. But the Obeir potion is still affecting you, and it's nothing personal, we just can't trust that you won't try to Portkey Harry out of here." Hermione explained somewhat apologetically. Ginny's outburst at not being able to hug Hermione's boyfriend was causing the brunette witch to feel jealous and a bit possessive.
Ginny just sat there glaring at her like a petulant child for a few moments before she turned her gaze to Harry. "Well, at least Harry wanted to hug me. Right, Harry?"
Harry muttered something incoherent which upset both of the girls. He wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that. He did want to hug Ginny, but because he felt bad for overlooking something that could have hurt her, not for the reasons she was apparently hoping for. On the other hand, he understood Hermione's reasoning that touching the fiery redhead probably wasn't a good idea right now. Seeing the growing fury on their faces he panicked. "Right, um, I'm just going to, uh-"
And with that, he bolted out of the hospital wing like he had spotted the Snitch and wanted to get it before Malfoy.
"See! Look what you did!" Ginny shrieked. "Probably spouted some nonsense into his head with your telly-pathetic crap, and now he's gone and run off! Do you ever stop pestering him, Hermione? Do you? Can't you let him live his own life and make his own decisions?"
"It's telepathic, Ginny, and I'd much rather piss you off than risk him being Portkeyed straight to Voldemort, thanks."
With that, Hermione exited the room and left Ginny to stew in her anger. As much as the younger witch was bothering her, Hermione reminded herself that it was her Harry was in love with. With that thought in mind she set off to find him, sensing his presence through their mental connection.
She found him a short time later in the Room of Requirement, where she found that it had been transformed into a replica of a duelling room. There were dummies waiting to be animated in one corner and a vast collection of weaponry in another, but the most intriguing thing in the room was the duelling platform that took up the centre of the floor. Harry was there, sparring with a dummy that had been charmed to fight back. It even had a wand to fight back with, though she suspected that Harry had cast magical limitation charms on it to ensure that nothing serious happened. Hermione was astounded by the skill he had, and even more impressed by the methods he was using to outwit the dummy. He had decided to apply their new Apparition abilities in a more practical manner than popping into the kitchens for a snack.
Any time the dummy would get fairly close enough to land a spell or a physical blow of some sort, Harry would Apparate out of the way. At first he was landing directly behind the dummy and hexing it in that manner, but after a few occurrences the dummy began to catch on and would turn around to face him. When that began to happen, Harry would Apparate to a spot just out of the dummy's range, and fire spells from there. A few times he summoned a sword from the weapons rack along the wall to defend himself, and the last time he did was the dummy's undoing. He moved so fast that he was like a blur, and when he stopped the blade was pressed against the dummy's neck.
At that moment the dummy went limp, Harry had cancelled the charm. Harry paused to take a few breaths, return the sword to the rack, and wipe the sweat from his brow.
"Harry?" Hermione called out tentatively.
He turned to face her. "You watched that?"
"It was brilliant."
He shrugged. "Figured I might as well put the Apparition idea to good use, and what better way to do so."
"I have an idea about what we can use for a target for Ginny," Hermione said, glancing at the defeated dummy at the centre of the platform.
Harry looked at her, curious.
She crossed the room to stand in front of the dummy, with her back to Harry. He could see her arms moving with her wand as she cast several spells and charms, and when she stepped away he was most definitely impressed.
The dummy had been transfigured to look like him, or as close to him as an inanimate dummy could. It was creepy, really, and it looked like an oversized doll to him. "Where'd you get the idea for this?" he asked.
"Since the goat was close enough to Dumbledore for Aberforth, I figured transfiguring an inanimate object that could be enchanted to move and react like a real person would be even better. Besides, it somewhat reminds me of a musical I saw once with my parents."
Harry quirked an eyebrow at her. "Musical? I didn't know you liked that kind of thing."
"My parents bought the tickets for Christmas holiday one year. It's a really famous musical, and my mum's a huge Andrew Lloyd Webber fan. Daddy wanted to take her, and he thought that I might enjoy it too. There's a scene in it where the main character has a life-sized replica of the woman he's in love with, since he can't have the real thing. It seemed fitting for the situation." She explained.
Harry felt the urge to sit down and talk with his girlfriend, so the room altered itself into a comfortable sitting area, leaving the transfigured dummy limp on a chair like a rag doll. "Tell me more about this musical," he asked.
"I didn't figure you for the musical theatre type," she smirked. "It's The Phantom of the Opera. It's a beautiful story, really, and the original London cast was fantastic. It's about this man, the Phantom, who trains a chorus girl, Christine, to sing. One day the prima donna - that's the lead singer - of the opera throws a fit and leaves, so Christine takes her place. She becomes a huge star overnight and when she's onstage her childhood sweetheart, Raoul, recognizes her and decides to pursue her. When he comes to her dressing room that night the Phantom has already stolen her away to his secret underground lair where he intends to make her fall in love with him. They sing this incredible song and at the end of it, he shows her the doll that looks exactly like her, but it's wearing a wedding gown. She passes out and wakes up there the next morning."
"Let me stop you right there," Harry laughed. "You could've just said it was a story about a royally messed up love triangle."
"Yes, but I could say the same thing about Ron, and us couldn't I?" she pointed out. "This way was more interesting."
Harry went silent for a moment, realizing she was right. "So who does Christine end up with in the end?"
"Raoul."
"Oh." He was beginning to see parallels between the Phantom's story and their own. He had always felt that he and Hermione were closer than he and Ron, much like Christine and the Phantom. Suddenly one day, Ron decided that he liked Hermione and wanted her for his own, and because of that Harry never really had any say in the matter. Ron moved in to try to sweep her off her feet, and then Harry swept Hermione away to Godric's Hollow to keep her to himself. The fact that Christine and Raoul ended up together disconcerted him.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed, reading his thoughts. "Christine didn't love Raoul. She loved the Phantom, but knew that they could never be together properly. Raoul was a Viscount; he could provide a life for her that she never would have had otherwise. He could be a husband, and a father. The Phantom couldn't do that. He preferred his home beneath the underground lake of the Paris Opera House, and she was the Opera's newest diva. There was an angry torch-wielding mob after the Phantom's head, and given that the story was set in the late 1880's, they were likely to kill him. Not to mention that whole half-a-face thing the Phantom had going on. His grotesque face ruined any chance he had at living life above ground."
Harry brightened suddenly. "There's disfigurement? Why didn't you say so?"
"Typical man you are, would you be happier if I told you there was fire, a man hung from the rafters of the stage, and a chandelier dropping on the audience?"
"Actually, yeah. Would've made the story loads more interesting."
Hermione laughed, but her laughter was cut short as she remembered Harry's thoughts on the love triangle in the story. "I'm not going to go back to Ron, if that's what you think."
Harry shook his head. "I don't think you'd just leave me for Ron. But Hermione, if I… y'know. I want you to be happy, go on living life and all that nonsense. And if Ron makes you happy…"
"Don't even try to tell me that Ron and I should get together again if you die in the war, I won't hear of it, Harry! You're not going to die, and that's that!" she shouted angrily, rising from her seat. "I will not lose you, Harry Potter. Not now, not after everything we went through to be together. I want all of you, for the rest of my life, and I will not have you die on me!"
In mere seconds Hermione was in Harry's arms and he held her tight as she began to cry. "I'm not planning on dying, love," he whispered. "But if I do, I want to know that you'll be happy, and taken care of."
"How can I go on without you?" she sniffled. "I'll be there with you, Harry, from the moment the battle begins until the last second in which you kill that evil bastard. And I can tell you right now that if you die, I'll be right along with you."
"Hermione, no!" Harry exclaimed, holding her at arm's length so that he could look into her eyes. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare think of ending your own life because I'm gone!"
"I wouldn't," she sighed, wiping away a few tears. "Not on purpose, anyway. But I've had nightmares about it, Harry, and what I see isn't very happy. You kill Voldemort but it takes nearly every ounce of strength and magic you possess, and I'm there beside you, giving you everything I have. It's a connection of some sort and when you start to run out of magic, you take mine. And by the end of it we're both so drained, and you're dying, and I'm not strong enough to save you. We've both lost our magic and it's such a shock to our bodies that our battle injuries catch up to us. You die while I watch you take your last breath and by the time someone finds us, I'm gone too."
Harry stared at her, shocked. "You see this in your dreams? Like a vision, or just a nightmare? Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"Sometimes I think it's a vision, but Divination's always been such a woolly subject that I can't see it being true considering I'm the one who dreamt it. I'd find myself more inclined to believe it if Luna came out with it, but not myself. It must be just a nightmare. And I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry."
Harry had to admit that she had a point there. If she had, in fact, confided in him about her nightmares he would have slipped her some Dreamless Sleep in her tea to take care of the situation. He'd rather her be taking the potion than suffering through that every night, even if it meant not telling her he was putting it in her tea.
Sighing, he resigned himself to ending the heated words and a charming smile slipped across his face. "So about this Phantom bloke…"
Hermione shook her head, almost as if she were clearing her negative thoughts, and smiled back at him. "What about him?"
"I'm assuming from what you told me that he's handsome and dashing and all that, given that Christine wants to be with him but can't, right?"
"Dashing, yes. Handsome is a bit iffy, truth be told. The side of his face that's not covered by the mask is quite attractive, and the man has a singing voice to die for. I'll admit, when I saw it with my parents I sort of fancied the Phantom." Hermione blushed.
Harry controlled his laughter. "You fancied him. The Phantom of the Opera."
"Yes, well, I'll have you know that it was rather romantic, in a twisted sort of way, the lengths he was willing to go to so that Christine would fall in love with him! He sang to her, he taught her to sing, it was because of him that she became a star, and he had this cape that was so long it was quite like a cloak…" she sighed wistfully.
"A cloak. I have a cloak and I don't see you swooning over my presence!" Harry teased.
"I don't see you swishing it about in the graceful and debonair manner that the Phantom did, so what do you expect?"
Realizing that he was fighting a losing battle, Harry gave in. "Alright, so you fancy this fictional character that's grotesquely deformed on one half of his face, has a lovely singing voice, and a swishy cape. You do realize that Ron would call you mental for this, right?"
"And given that Ron turns into a ball of mush around Fleur Delacour simply because she's part Veela, I'd say he has no right to criticize."
"Point taken."
"Right, now back to this duelling dummy thing. I'm not entire sure about enchanting it to react to Ginny as it did to you while you were sparring with it, but I can at least take care of the transfiguration and the likes. Would you try enchanting it, Harry? Not as a duelling partner, but to behave as you would." Hermione asked, settling herself further into her chair. She didn't like to admit her magic was sub-par to Harry's at times, but at the moment she was more concerned about getting Ginny back to normal than maintaining her pride.
"You know that Polyjuice would be loads easier." He reminded her.
Hermione looked at him, affronted. "And who would you be willing to Polyjuice and send off to Voldemort in your stead?"
"The Malfoys, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, Zabini, Flint, Bulstrode, Snape, Pettigrew, Greyback, Fudge, Scrimgeour, Skeeter, Filch, Umbridge, maybe even Peeves…" Harry trailed off.
"Honestly, Harry! Peeves is a Poltergeist, for Merlin's sake! He wouldn't be able to ingest Polyjuice, much less have it work on him!"
"Doesn't mean I can't try," Harry muttered, adding something relatively unintelligible about it being an improvement on Peeves' appearance.
"You wouldn't really be willing to do that to all those people, would you, Harry?" she asked, concerned at how readily he rattled off that list.
He shrugged. "Maybe not Skeeter, Fudge, Scrimgeour, and Filch, but everyone else, I'd definitely consider it. Imagine it, Hermione. We Polyjuice someone like Lucius Malfoy or Snape and send them off with the Portkey to Voldemort. They arrive looking like me, and he starts hexing repeatedly. Not only would we be getting the Obeir potion out of Ginny's bloodstream, but we'd be getting rid of a Death Eater at the same time! It's a win-win situation!"
"And just how, pray tell, do you plan on acquiring Snape or Malfoy?"
"Hadn't thought that far, but it was just an idea. Anyway, enchanting the dummy. I've only ever done it to spar before, and even then it's a complicated spell." He admitted.
Hermione said dryly, "Harry, this is me you're talking to. When we were in first year a levitation spell was complicated to you."
"Animatus incogito instruo oppugno." Harry shot back at her, smarting from the comment on his skills with Wingardium Leviosa. "The last bit should sound familiar to you."
"Animate, think, prepare for battle, and attack." She translated the Latin. "And yes, Harry, it is familiar to me. Oppugno works well to command conjured objects, even if those conjured objects are canaries." Harry chuckled at the memory of Ron fleeing from Hermione's tiny yellow birds the year before. "Now, if you could be so kind as to enchant the transfigured dummy for me."
Harry obliged, a rather complicated wand movement accompanying the spell. It took a few seconds for the spell to take effect, but soon the transfigured dummy was lifting itself from the chair and facing Harry.
Quicker than lightning the Room rippled from one wall to the other, transforming back into the dueling chamber from earlier. The dummy took its place at the center of the platform, and Harry joined it there. They stood facing each other, and Hermione began to feel goose bumps spread across her flesh. She knew that her skills at Transfiguration were among the best in Hogwarts, but the similarity between the dummy and Harry was absolutely uncanny.
They both stood there, facing her, dressed in deep burgundy robes with dark denims and a white t-shirt underneath. Their clothing was accurate right down to their matching white trainers, complete with the left shoe partially unlaced. The only way Hermione could tell the two apart was by their eyes, hair, and the fact that the dummy could not speak. Though the eye colour was the exact same shade of emerald green, Harry's eyes were bright and shining, whereas the dummy's were dull and unfocused.
The hair was another matter entirely, though Hermione supposed that, if no form of magic could tame Harry's unruly mop, there was no way of recreating it, either. The real Harry's hair was as untamable as ever, and the dummy's actually managed not to stick up in any odd directions. Hermione decided that she would have to employ some sort of muggle hair product like wax or pomade to get the desired effect, but that was a minor cosmetic concern.
"Why isn't he fighting you?" Hermione asked.
Harry shrugged. "He's animated and enchanted, but not activated. I'd have to use the right word to get him started."
Hermione wasn't entirely sure how she would be able to handle the image of two Harry's fighting, but decided it would be worth it to see the dummy in action. Though she'd seen Harry fighting it before, it was a faceless mannequin with no distinguishing features. If it could bear a passing resemblance to Harry in battle, there was hope that she could modify the animation spell to have it act just like him as well.
"Well, go on, then." She encouraged.
"Incipio," Harry said, pointing his wand at the dummy. Hermione watched as the royal blue light streamed towards the dummy and struck him in the chest. Moments later the dueling wand was back in Dummy-Harry's possession, and he was assuming a fighting stance with one arm extended over his head, and the other pointing his wand at Harry.
Harry chose to wait until Dummy-Harry made the first move.
It took a minute or so for the dummy's thinking abilities to get going, which gave the Room plenty of time to provide a comfortable, squashy chair for Hermione to sit in, along with a magical barrier to keep any stray hexes from striking her unexpectedly.
The dummy attempted to strike with a stunner first, which Harry easily deflected. He shot back with a Reductor curse, which the dummy barely dodged. They continued to exchange curses and hexes, as Hermione watched on in amusement.
She couldn't help but feel a little flustered at the sight of not one Harry, but two, dueling in such a manner. At some point the real Harry had gotten so worked up and sweaty that he had chucked his robes, and the Dummy-Harry followed his example, leaving them both in their denims and t-shirts. Thanks to this Hermione was treated to the pleasant visual of her boyfriend and his temporary clone fighting each other. She didn't quite know why the sight was turning her on so much, but that didn't stop her mind from wandering a bit at the possibilities.
A loud crash brought Hermione out of her reverie as her gaze landed on Harry with his wand at the throat of the dummy, who was currently laying in the splintered pieces of an empty equipment rack. Though she never suspected that a dummy would be any match for Harry, she was surprised that the duel had gone on that long.
"Defungo," said Harry, and the dummy relaxed. It was still animated, but no longer in attack mode. Harry collapsed on the dueling platform, exhausted from their sparring. He lay there breathing heavily as Hermione conjured a glass of water for him. She crossed the room and held it to his lips, letting him take small sips.
"Harry, why don't you go down to the kitchens, visit Dobby and find yourself something to eat? I'm going to go to the library, and work on the enchantment spell so that it'll work the way we need it to." She suggested, smoothing his sweaty hair back from his forehead.
Harry sat up and made a move to return the dummy to an inanimate state. He hesitated for a moment, still amazed at how much they looked alike.
"Don't," Hermione said, moving to lower his wand. "He can come with me to the library. I could try out the reworked spells on him that way."
He shrugged, and headed towards the door. "Sure, sounds fine to me. Want me to bring you anything?"
"Just a sandwich or something, if you don't mind. And make sure you pay Dobby for making it."
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As if he needed a reminder. "Yes, dear." He said in a patronizing tone.
Hermione shrugged it off, and went over to the broken equipment rack to help the dummy up. "Go, I'll see you later in the library."
With a quick kiss on the cheek Harry was out the door and on his way to the oversized painting of fruit.
She struggled to help the dummy up, who was clearly far more tired than Harry was from their dueling. "Well, come along then," she said. "Might as well get started as soon as we can."
<><><><><>
"Harry, I did it!" Hermione exclaimed, startling her boyfriend as he entered the library with a platter full of sandwiches. He carefully set them on her favourite table and waited for the explanation. "I figured out how to give him a voice. Tribuo Vocis." She said, pointing her wand at the dummy.
Dummy-Harry began to work his jaw in a motion reminiscent of the Tin Man in one of Hermione's favourite films, The Wizard of Oz. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
Harry shot her a doubtful look. "I'm not so sure it worked, love."
"Give him a minute, Harry. Magic does have its limitations."
Sure enough after a few minutes of trying out his new vocal chords, the dummy was able to speak. "What happened to me?" he asked.
"My fault there, sorry, mate." Harry apologized, assuming the dummy was still sore from their earlier duel.
"No, not that," he said, looking at the table. "I don't understand how I got here."
"You were a sparring dummy, and I transfigured you to look like Harry here. I just found a spell to give you a voice, and now I'm working on one so that the spell that enchants you to fight can instead be used to enchant you to act like a normal wizard." Hermione explained.
The dummy still looked confused, like he understood exactly what she was doing to him, but he didn't understand why. She sighed, and explained the grand plan of Ginny following orders with him instead of the real Harry, and sending him off to Voldemort. Of course that led to Hermione explaining who Voldemort was and all that he entailed, and as comprehension dawned on the dummy, he suddenly became more than willing to do as she had planned.
Hermione took this opportunity to finish her work on Harry's animation spell while Harry explained to the dummy the intricacies of their plan to substitute him much like the goat had become a substitution for Aberforth all those years ago. The spell was already formulated to animate and give the dummy a mind of it's own, as well as to fight. She needed it to have him think more like a regular teenaged wizard than a dueling partner, and she needed him to act like Harry.
Scrolls upon scrolls of Arithmancy equations later, Hermione had come up with her spell. She tied it into Harry's magical signature so that the dummy's presence would appear to be exactly like Harry's for all intents and purposes should Voldemort decide to test him. Of course Veritaserum and other potions wouldn't work, as the dummy was a dummy and not a human being, but any detection wards would register him as Harry Potter rather than an animated dummy.
"Animatus incogito compatior effingo Harry James Potter."
Moments after Hermione performed her spell, the dummy began to take on a brand new attitude. His eyes were more lifelike and sparkling, and his hair looked a little more disheveled. Hermione conjured a small bag, removed a pot of hair wax and rubbed it between her palms, and began to run her fingers through Dummy-Harry's hair. She also removed a dusty pink lip liner from the bag and traced it along the dummy's transfigured scar, enhancing it so that it was more noticeable and looked just like Harry's. A forgotten quill on the library table was transfigured into a wire-framed circular pair of glasses, and the look was completed.
"Well, if I didn't know any better I'd say that I had the real Harry Potter standing in front of me!" Hermione declared, satisfied with her work.
Harry was a little unnerved by the uncanny carbon copy appearance of the dueling dummy, but he couldn't complain. After all, not only would this dummy help Ginny with the Obeir potion, but it would also serve a purpose in its delivery to Voldemort.
Grabbing his wrist, Hermione began to tie a conjured thin red string around the real Harry's right wrist. He shot her a questioning glance.
"Just in case. I know that I can tell you apart by our mental link, but it helps to have an easier way to do so without sending telepathic thoughts."
Harry shrugged; knowing that arguing with Hermione about wearing a bracelet would be useless.
"Now, I know that you can act like Harry based on the spell, but I know I'd feel better if the two of you would spend the afternoon together. That way you can perfect Harry's mannerisms and way of speaking. Just a precautionary measure, I'm sure you understand." Hermione addressed the dummy.
With that they returned to the Heads Suite in the Gryffindor common room, so that Dummy-Harry and the real Harry could spend some quality time together and Hermione could work on their plan to introduce Dummy-Harry to Ginny.
<><><><><>
"Mum!" Ron bellowed throughout the kitchen, bringing Molly Weasley running in from the sitting room. "Post's here!"
She made a frantic grab for the letter that majestic looking owl was carrying, and began to tear it open. She was praying to Merlin, and any other deity that would listen, that the letter was from Ginny. She hadn't heard from her daughter since that one vague letter stating that she was staying at Luna's house, and was desperate for news.
Her heart sank as she recognized the script on the parchment. It was the same style of handwriting that appeared on the children's booklists and Hogwarts letters every year.
Molly,
I'm sure that you have been concerned about Ginny's whereabouts for the last few weeks, but rest assured she is in safe hands now. She is currently residing in the hospital wing under Madame Pomfrey's diligent care, and both Mr. Potter and Miss Granger are working on a way to help her in her current predicament.
I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Voldemort captured Ginny some time ago. He or one of his followers administered a potion to her; a very old potion that I had hoped there was no record of up until a few short days ago. It is called the Obeir potion, and it is a combination of all three Unforgivable Curses in liquid form. From what Albus' portrait has told me of his conversations with Mr. Potter and Miss Granger, Ginny was issued orders to capture Mr. Potter and Portkey him back to Voldemort's headquarters. They have found a way to remove the potion from her system, but it will take some time.
You, Arthur and the children are more than welcome to come to Hogwarts and see Ginny, but I must warn you that, unless Mr. Potter is present, she does not act like herself. It is my understanding that within the next few days, the potion will be eradicated from her system and she will be back to normal once more. Please send a return owl with the time you will arrive at the castle.
Sincerely,
Minerva
"Mum! Mum! Are you alright?" Ron yelled frantically. Upon reading McGonagall's last word, Molly fainted dead away and collapsed on the floor. Ron went into a panic and rushed around the Burrow to find his father, whose face paled as he read the letter.
"Get your things in order, Ron. I'll pack for your mother and I, and then we'll leave for Hogwarts."
With that, Arthur and Ron bustled about, levitating and shrinking their belongings into trunks as they prepared to Floo to McGonagall's office. Arthur fired off a quick return owl before Ennervating Molly, and told her they would be leaving as soon as she was feeling less faint.
A few glasses of pumpkin juice and a treacle tart later, Molly was ready to go and they stepped through the fireplace on their way to Hogwarts.
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