Imogen a Harry Potter taleChapter 62
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There was only a half hour to go before dinner when Malfoy remembered the note, the crumpling sound in his pocket reminding him when he sat down on a couch in the Slytherin common room. The note had been handed to him in the halls between classes by Hannah Abbot, which explained why he had forgotten it — he took no notice at all of the Hufflepuff prefect, and he assumed that a message from her could not be of any importance. He'd shoved it into his pocket and thought nothing more of it until he was in the comfort of his own common room. Comfort, only because after five years he was used to it, but the Sltyherin common room was an ugly place. Green and silver did very well for banners and uniforms, but in the low-ceilinged common room they were damn depressing.
As he pulled the note from his pocket, he looked up and saw Pansy Parkinson sitting across from him, and the sight cheered him, her pale, pretty face managing to shine even in the low light. The almost unnatural blue of her eyes was her most startling feature, and Malfoy felt her gaze focus on him.
"Who's the note from, Draco?" she asked, again stifling the same stab of jealously that had arisen when she'd seen that cow Hannah pass Draco the note. As she spoke, she slipped out from under her school robe, smiling as she caught Draco admiring her figure — if he kept looking at her like that, she had nothing to worry about.
"That stupid Abbot girl handed it to me," he replied. "Maybe it's a love note — why don't you read it first?" Pansy was not as good at concealing her jealousy as she thought, and Draco hoped she would feel more secure if he let her read the note first. And he was right, of course — he was usually right in such things. Malfoy was a close observer of everyone around him, and read them right more often than not. He could be quite pleasing to others when he chose to be — his mother and father had trained him very well. The Gryffindors thought he lacked manners, but they were mistaken — his manners were impeccable. But they were reserved for those who mattered, and there were very few people at Hogwarts outside Slytherin that mattered. When he was rude, it was deliberately so, unlike ill-mannered people, who are rude by accident. Alone with him, or in the common room, Pansy saw the best of Malfoy, the part of him that was capable of kindness and attention.
"There's to be a prefects' meeting after dinner tonight. That's odd — we weren't due for one 'till next week." She passed the note back to Draco, enjoying the way their hands briefly touched. He smiled at her, and then smirked as he unfolded the note and saw the silly Hufflepuff letterhead. If he'd been sorted into Hufflepuff, his father would have taken that with as much grace as if his son were a squib. He read the note lazily, and then tossed it onto the coffee table.
"I hope it won't be a long meeting. MacMillan bores me. Abbot bores me. Goldstein and Patil bore me."
"What about Weasley and Granger?"
"I keep from being bored by imagining what their lives will be like after school's done, living in marital bliss in the attic at 'The Burrow', praying that they are too insignificant for the Dark Lord to take notice of them."
"Do you really think they'll marry?" asked Pansy. To hear Draco talk of marriage, even if it concerned others, was pleasing to her.
"If one of them isn't dead before school ends, yes. It's pretty obvious how they feel about each other. And they'll raise a clutch of buck-toothed, bushy-haired, red-headed mudbloods."
Pansy laughed as she always did at anything Draco said that was intended to be funny.
The prefects met in their office down the hall from the prefects' bathroom. Other than for meetings, it wasn't used much, except by Hermione when she wanted a quiet, private place to study. In it were a few study desks and shelves filled with very out of date and heavily annotated reference books. A small adjoining room contained a small but serviceable potions area. The prefects were in a larger connecting room, seated at a table that would comfortably seat ten, for meetings that required all the prefects and the head boy and head girl. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had arrived first, and were seated on the same side of the table, forcing the Gryffindors (who arrived last) to sit next to the Slytherins. Thus when Ernie MacMillan began to speak, he was at one end of the table, and Malfoy at the other, opposite end.
Hermione had handled Ernie very well, manipulating him in a way that would have made any Slytherin proud. By the time she had finished talking with him earlier that day, Ernie was quite convinced that it was his idea that the students should stay out of Umbridge's office and seek no permission to re-form clubs and teams
Ernie's bright red hair would have made him a candidate for honourary membership in the Weasley family, except that the resemblance ended there, for he had none of the ease of manner associated with Ron and his siblings (excepting Percy, of course, who appeared to be on a mission to win the Prat of the Year award). The Weasleys were comfortable in any company, and had the ability to put others at their ease. Ernie on the other hand inadvertently threw others off balance with his manner. He had no intuitive sense of the right way to behave in any situation unfamiliar to him, and so he almost invariably reverted to an oddly pompous way of speaking unless absolutely sure of himself. He was at his best in one-on-one situations, where he could be normal enough. But as soon as he was in a group, he felt off balance. This was the fourth prefects' meeting he'd attended, but he had no feeling for the dynamics of the group, and struggled to speak at first.
"This Umbridge woman's getting out of control," Ernie began. "Issuing decrees, becoming 'High Inquisitor', inspecting teachers, and now this latest nonsense — she wants all the students to grovel just to keep things the way they've always been. Now she wants us all to ask for permission just to be together. Who is this woman, anyways? I don't recognize her family name at all." Ernie's was an old pureblood wizarding family, and he had the streak of snobbishness that often came with his background.
"She's a nobody," Draco replied. "She's got some influence at the Ministry, and my father says she worked very hard to get where she is, but aside from Fudge and a few others high up, she has no family and no connections at all. If Fudge dropped her, she'd have nothing to fall back on. No money, no estate, no name — nothing at all."
"Now look here, Malfoy," said Hermione, her face scowling in pretended indignation, "this isn't about family or pure or mixed blood or anything like that. What's her background got to do with what she's doing? I don't approve of everything she's done, but she's just trying to run things the best she can, and —"
"Yes, I suppose you'd like her just fine," interrupted Pansy Parkinson. "To you, with no wizarding family at all, Umbridge looks like nobility. But believe me, she's only a step removed from a mudblood."
Hermione gave Ron a little kick under the table, and he spoke up.
"My family's as old as anyone's in this room, or in Hogwarts, for that matter. But I don't think we should be judging Umbridge by who she is. We should be judging her for —"
"—what she's done," said Ernie. "And what she's doing is interfering with the way things have been run for a thousand years. And that's I why I started off with talking about her background. She has no right at all to be changing the old ways. It's just ridiculous."
Malfoy and Parkinson nodded their heads in agreement. Malfoy observed with amusement Ron's stony face, and Hermione's lips pursed in disapproval. He looked over at the Ravenclaw prefects. He knew nothing about Padma's background, but he suspected that if she were not muggle-born, she was not far removed from it. Goldstein was different — his family was ancient. "Anthony, what do you think of what's going on — do you like what Umbridge is doing?" Malfoy enquired.
"I think Umbridge can go stuff it," said Goldstein bluntly. He had been well-briefed by Ron, and had immediately taken up his suggestion to speak to the Ravenclaw table at breakfast, instructing them that no one was to speak to Umbridge about forming a club until after the prefects met that evening. "I don't think she's all that secure at the Ministry, either." This got Malfoy's attention, for Goldstein's grandfather had at one time been the Minister, and the many of the Goldstein family held positions in the Ministry, a few holding very high office — Goldstein could be well-informed on such things.
"Yes," Goldstein continued, the lies coming very easily to him, "Umbridge was only sent here because the first two candidates declined to help the Ministry take over Hogwarts. Umbridge was a distant third choice for Fudge. If she runs into problems and has to be removed — well, I'd hate to be her." This was all nonsense, of course, but it was the kind of stuff that Goldstein knew Malfoy would lap up. Draco was very attracted to the idea of damaging or destroying people, thus his attempt in third year to get Hagrid removed. Malfoy liked the idea of Umbridge discrediting and sacking teachers, but the idea of Umbridge herself being removed appealed to him even more — provided of course it was done at no risk to Malfoy, in case things backfired.
"Well," said Malfoy to Ernie, "what do you propose we should do?"
Hannah now spoke for the first time. "Ernie and I think we should do nothing — nothing at all." In response to Parkinson's puzzled, contemptuous look, Hannah continued. "What I mean is this. I don't think we should break this rule. Instead, we should strictly obey it. No clubs, no teams, no meetings — nothing whatever. It will be like the entire school is being punished. And for what? A stupid whim? Umbridge will look like a fool."
Ron overrode Hannah angrily. "That's fine for you to say. You don't play quidditch. Umbridge's ban won't do a thing to you." Padma shook her head at this in defence of Hannah.
"That's not fair, Ron. To some of us it's true that quidditch doesn't matter, but other things do. Hannah and I are both in the potions club, and this week we were going to start on something really great — a potion that helps you learn languages really fast. I'm not so sure Umbridge will let any club re-form if it has the effect of making any of us more skilled. That's what she's afraid of. I like Hannah's idea."
"I do, too," said Malfoy, and Pansy next to him nodded her head automatically in agreement. "Padma, Anthony — what do you think?" The two Ravenclaws readily agreed.
"Well," said Malfoy, "that just leaves our two brave Gryffindors. Are you going to join the rest of us, or not?"
"It's not like we have a choice," said Hermione, stifling Ron with a gesture as he tried to speak. "If the rest of you aren't going to Umbridge for permission to re-form clubs and teams, there's no point the Gryffindors doing it alone — we can't have all the clubs and teams with just Gryffindor." At this Ron slumped in his chair, apparently defeated by Hermione's logic.
"Then it's settled," said Malfoy. "Let the minutes show that the prefects unanimously agree that we should help Umbridge by making sure the latest decree is strictly enforced. Each of us will be responsible for ensuring that no one attempts group activities on the grounds, in the common rooms or in the dormitories. That's what the minutes will show. But of course we'll speak to our respective houses, and tell them that under no circumstances is anyone to approach Umbridge on behalf of any team or any group or any club."
Imogen ate her breakfast in silence, her head slumped over her plate as she mechanically shovelled food into her mouth, while at the same time she tried to finish a note she was writing to her friend, the centaur chieftain Magorian. She drained another cup of coffee, her third, but what did that matter: no one was counting. "That's your third cup of coffee," said Angelina Johnson. "If you keep that up, you'll spend your first class running to the bathroom half the time." "Mumble...
Flitwick noted the tension in the air the moment he stepped into the large classroom used for the Dueling Club. Every single member of the club was present, not one student absent due to illness or an unfinished assignment. Neville, not fully recovered from his encounter a few days earlier with a giant, was nevertheless in attendance. Even Flint was present, despite the detention Flitwick himself had handed out to the boy earlier that day, confining him the the Slytherin common room for...
"What a pretty tiara," said Ginny, picking up the crown from where it lay on the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. It was dinner time, and the enchanted ceiling mimicked the black, cloud-filled sky. The tables were lit by numerous candles, and the jewelled tiara sparkled in the warm glow. "I'm sure I look charmingly regal," continued Ginny. "What do you think?" she added, turning to Harry as the others at the table smiled at her indulgently. "You look great," said Harry. "You...
Imogen's hour glass chimed softly by her bed, the sound barely audible. Imogen heard it only because she was sleeping very lightly, and had gone to bed only an hour before. She rose, and moving to Hermione's bed, gently woke her friend. The two dressed in silence, undetected by Padma and the snoring Lavender Brown. Reasonably sure that they had not been heard by their two dormitory mates, Hermione and Imogen stepped softly down the stairs to the common room, their way dimly lit by the lumos...
After the meeting at which Harry pointed out to Ernie the error of his ways, Harry made a practice of using the prefects' rooms for strategy sessions, secret meetings and dueling practice. Useful as the rooms were for Harry's purposes, they could also be used by the prefects who were not members of their group, along with the head boy and head girl. There was always the chance that Goldstein or Abbot or any of the other prefects might try to gain access to the rooms when Harry and his...
Thanks to over one hundred days' hard work, extra help from her professors, tutoring from Hermione and other classmates, frequent use of the time turner and not a little talent, Imogen had virtually completed fourth year in her chosen subjects - potions, transfiguration, charms and defence against the dark arts. In this last subject, she was in fact rather ahead of her peers —other than Harry— for her classmates' education in this subject had been quite neglected in their first and second...
"All set to go?" asked Harry. Hermione nodded as she drank the last of her coffee. The Weasleys at the Gryffindor table indicated their assent as Harry looked around him. Harry rose, and accompanied by Ginny, headed out of the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione followed a few minutes later. The rest (Imogen, Neville, the Weasley twins and Angelina) headed out in ones and twos at short intervals, their departure unnoticed in the usual morning bustle. Some went directly outdoors, having brought...
Dumbledore's nap lasted a long time, and while the aged wizard slumbered in the spare bedroom upstairs, the domestic life of the Weasleys, shattered by the news of Ginny's death, had suffered almost equal disruption by the discovery that the news was false. Both of the girl's parents were desperate to hear Ginny's account of the battle from her own lips. But Ginny was unable to give intelligible answers to her parents' questions. A home remedy was required. Sitting the girl down in the...
The students were in unusually high spirits as they began to file into the Great Hall for dinner that evening, for all those in third year and up were permitted to visit Hogsmeade the next day - except for the few who lacked parental permission slips or who were denied permission as a particularly cruel form of detention, the misery of these unfortunates increased by their friends' cheerful and rowdy banter about the fun they'd have the next day. Imogen entered the Great Hall along with the...
That evening in the common room Harry and his friends lounged about in front of the fire, discussing recent events. Hermione, with her gift of almost perfect recall, narrated the story she alone had heard in its entirety from Draco's own lips. The Muffliato charm ensured that a group of third years seated in the far corner and working on a History essay would hear nothing. Ginny and Ron listened with rapt attention as the tale unfolded, the teens drinking the last of the butterbeers...
Imogen picked up another plate from the table in the Burrow's kitchen, and began to wash it, her motions mechanical, her face fixed in an expression a calm she did not feel. Eleven had seated themselves for breakfast: the six remaining Weasley children, Mr. and Ms. Weasley, Harry, Hermione and Imogen. Breakfast had been sombre, with none of the usual raillery associated with the Weasley clan. Imogen finished washing the plate, and passed it to Hermione to dry. "I feel so totally out of...
The dangers attendant on the Forbidden Forest had one advantage, for they made it an excellent place for a secret meeting, and no place inside the forest was better for a meeting than that section of the Forbidden Forest which itself was forbidden, the territory of the centaurs. The centaurs had taken much of the forest as theirs in ancient times, their territorial claims long accepted by the other inhabitants of the forest. These other creatures had no choice; quarrelling with the semi-human...
"More toast anyone?" Like any parent, Molly Weasley enjoyed stuffing food into her children, and there were five of them having breakfast in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. The presence of Hermione and Harry could not quite make up for the missing Charlie and Percy, but Mrs. Weasley was delighted to have them all the same. The kitchen would not accommodate everyone, and so breakfast that morning was in shifts, the last one being the Weasley family and the friends of their children. One...
Imogen's return to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays was in circumstances entirely different from her first trip to the school. Then, in September, she had been a confused and ignorant girl. Things were different now. Thanks to her hard work over the holiday (which had lasted a full three weeks) she was fully caught up in her chosen subjects, easily the equal of most Hogwarts' fifth years, and superior to many. This time on the train she brought with her no trunk, only her owl and her...
A young girl stood still, her trunk on the ground next to her, an owl cage in one hand as she looked about in mystification, her face betraying her confusion. The girl's hair was as blond as blond could be, long tresses done up in twin pigtails that would have been suitable on a younger girl, but not on a young lady of about fifteen years of age or perhaps older, the muggle clothing she wore not designed in any way to hide her shapely figure. Her owl, Olwyna, screeched at the noise and...
"Impedimentia!" shouted Ginny as Fred ran towards her. Her brother tripped and fell heavily. He was up in a second, but - "Stupify!" This knocked Fred unconscious, and it was a few seconds before he was able to rise to his hands and knees. Ginny raised her wand, but Harry called for her to stop. "Excellent, Ginny. Now what would you use if Fred was a death eater?" "The killing curse, of course," said Ginny. "Why do you keep repeating that? You must have told us a hundred...
Outside in the hall, Professor McGonagall wasted no time. "I must leave Hogwarts shortly, and I did not have to time wait until you finished class to speak with you. I take it you noticed Hermione was not around this morning?" she asked. "Yes," replied Imogen. "She wasn't at breakfast and she's not in potions." "I can't tell you where she is, Imogen, but -" "Professor," said Imogen in a tone that a slightly annoyed teenager might use with her parents, "I know where Hermione...
Rita Skeeter stepped out of Mr. Edgerton's office, having dropped off the most recent of her reports, setting out for her parole officer (for that, in effect, was Mr. Edgerton's function) the life she had led in the previous week. Absent from the report was any mention of her second visit to Nurmengard in the company of Harry and Sirius Black, for her activities outside of working hours were none of Edgerton's business. In any event, the biography (now close to completion) she was writing...
The burrow was every bit as wonderful as the books had described it, thought Imogen. She had been there for several days now, along the Weasley family, Hermione and Harry. Sirius too was staying with them, and every nook and cranny of the convoluted home had a bed, cot or mattress to accommodate a family member or guest. Imogen knew that everyone was 'supposed' to stay at Grimmauld Place, at least according to the books imbedded in her memory. But it was perfectly obvious to her why this...
A few days previously Skeeter had been working away in the Ministry library. The library was huge: an enormous, flattened cylinder resting on its elliptical base, resembling the famous operating theatre at Padua, except built on a truly vast scale. The main room was easily a hundred yards in length and half as wide. The walls rose up and up to a ceiling that soared at a height no Muggle architect would consider, but which was trivial for the wizards who had designed the place. At intervals...
On the wall above Dee's head was a framed photograph with a glass cover, and Draco used it to watch the two men as they worked their way towards the back of the restaurant, one of them making inquiries of the restaurant patrons, while the other stood back, one hand in his pocket, his gaze sweeping the restaurant repeatedly. Draco reached across the table. "I hope you won't mind if I borrow these for a minute," he said, removing Dee's glasses from her face and putting them on his own....
Friday morning, and like the rest of the students the Gryffindors got out of their beds, if not with eagerness then at least with less reluctance than usual, for it was the last school day of the week, and the following Saturday was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked forward to the Saturday with considerable anticipation. Harry was excited because they would all be meeting at the Hog's Head to recruit students to the Defence Against the Dark Arts club,...
"Imogen! Why aren't you at Hogsmeade with your friends?" Professor Flitwick had heard noises in an unused classroom, and investigating, he had found Imogen working on some fourth-year charms that she had been having trouble mastering. Taken by surprise, she looked down at him, her hair a bit out of order as a result of her exertions. She had not troubled to put on her full uniform, and was wearing only a blouse and a skirt, her face flushed red with effort. Professor Flitwick was glad that...
"You have received but few hints of your past, and they have been so subtle that I doubt you picked up on them. Do you recall your first visit to Grimmauld Place, and what the portrait of Mrs. Black screamed at you?" "Yes." There was a long pause; Imogen by her silence passed a test. "You really do take my instructions literally, don't you? How rare in a teenager. I give you permission to speak freely." "My recollection of things not in 'the books' is very far from perfect, but...
"Malfoy's back!" The cry was taken up by others as the news quickly spread through the Great Hall. Ron stopped chewing, his open mouth gaping in astonishment as he saw Draco's tall, thin form make its way towards the Slytherin table. "Oh Ron, do close your mouth, please," said Hermione absently, watching as Malfoy headed towards his accustomed seat, greeting his friends noisily as he did so. A throng formed around him, through which Pansy struggled until she finally succeeding in...
"I have to admit I have no idea what this is," said Hermione, staring at the odd arrangement of shelves before her. She and Imogen were in the boy's dormitory. The school's founders in their wisdom had protected the girls' sleeping quarters from the intrusion of any boy, but the boys' dormitory, in their view, was in need of no such protection, and so the two girls accompanied by Neville, Ron and Harry were able to climb the stairs to the fifth year boys' quarters and admire Imogen's...
There was only the slightest pause after Ernie's announcement before many a hand reached for a wand, only to come up empty: Harry understood his friends very well, and had he not confiscated everyone's wand, Ernie would have been instantly subjected to multiple curses. Ernie was also fortunate that the small room was very overcrowded. Fred and George stumbled over each other as they rose. Ginny too attempted to get at Ernie, but in the commotion could not get past her brothers. Only Imogen,...
"It's like he's disappeared!" explained Hermione. "I watched carefully during my shift, and I know Angelina and Ginny did the same. We just can't find any sign of Draco on the Marauder's map." Breakfast was still two hours away, and she was in Moaning Myrtle's second floor bathroom, along with Harry, Imogen, Angelina and the Weasley siblings. It was now a routine for them to meet every morning at this hour to discuss their efforts to follow Draco's movements on the Marauder's Map....
As Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way to Snape's potions class, Ron wondered if Hermione would carry her little joke too far. The night before the Gryffindor common room had witnessed the second annual Useless Spell contest, and Ron was still suffering under the effects of the curse Hermione had placed on him. Harry's offering for the contest was a charm that untied a person's shoelaces. But this was judged by Fred and George to have a practical use - it could be done not just to...
It was now two weeks into the term. Harry and his Gryffindor friends headed out from the common room, on their way to their second Dueling Club meeting with Professor Flitwick. There they would be seeing a number of other students, most from Slytherin, the balance made up of those former members of Dumbledore's Army who had decided to stay with Harry when he'd terminated the DA. The last meeting of the defence against the dark arts club had been most unpleasant, for Harry had faced a...
Shortly after lunch the students of Gryffindor and Slytherin houses eyed each other warily in the hall outside the door to Professor McGonnigal's transfiguration classroom. It was rare indeed for two houses to double up in any class but potions, but now and again it was necessary, either to make up for a holiday or some other quirk in the schedule. Draco leaned casually against the wall, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. He stared straight ahead with an expression of studied indifference. Nearby...
Professor McGonagall was not accustomed to being addressed in such fashion - especially not by a student. Everyone knew her reputation - 'tough but fair' was the usual description people used. To this could one could fairly add that Professor McGonagall was not to be trifled with; she was impatient of silly excuses and disliked intensely having her time wasted. But to be spoken to by a student in words that bordered on the peremptory - this was new. The professor stifled the immediate reply...
The door to Madam Pomfrey's office opened, interrupting Draco's narrative before he got very far. Draco instantly closed his eyes and settled himself back on his bed. "Obviously Draco has more friends than I thought," Pomfrey said. "And I'm glad you're all being so quiet; I haven't heard hardly a sound since you came in. But really this is too much. Only one of you can stay." Turning to Hagrid, she added, "I mean only one student of course, Professor Hagrid. You're welcome to stay...
"Imogen, there's something I really need to talk to you about. I didn't want to say anything, but I just have to. It's about - " Hermione paused, having difficulty coming to grips with what had to be said. But then she got some help. "Ron?" asked Imogen. "How did you know?" gasped Hermione, relieved that Imogen was willing to discuss the topic, yet annoyed that Imogen had even noticed Ron's attention. Imogen reminded Hermione of discussions they'd had over the last two weeks,...
Imogen had no idea how to get to the Potions room, and so once she was inside the school, she looked about, hoping to spot a fifth year whom she knew to be in Potions. Ahead of her she saw the back of a tall boy with bright red hair - Ron. She fell in behind him at a short distance, and kept pace with him as he effortlessly made his way to the depths of the castle. While keeping an eye on him, Imogen looked around in the hope that she would memorize the way there. She had learned in the last...
After the feast, the prefects of each house called for their first years to follow them, and to mind that they did not lose their way. "That's right," said Ron to the youngsters in his charge. "A few years back a couple of firsties didn't do as they were told and wandered off - never did find them, I don't think..." "Oh, knock it off, Ron!" said Hermione, exasperated. "It's scary enough for them as it is." She turned to address them. "Just follow me - everything will be just...
The next morning was her first experience of the regular routine at Hogwarts. Up early to get ready and dressed, then off to breakfast at the Great Hall. She had slept only a few hours and was utterly exhausted, stumbling down the stairs with the rest of her house. But as she approached the Great Hall, her stomach began to growl. Barely had she taken her seat when a wonderful breakfast appeared on the table - like no other she had ever had. Fried tomatoes - she hadn't known that people fried...
" ... and so that's what happened, professor. I didn't mean for things to turn out like they did, but it just happened." Having finished her rather lengthy story, Imogen lapsed into silence. There was only stillness in Dumbledore's office, as he and Professor McGonagall contemplated Imogen's detailed account of events inUmbridge's class. At McGonagall's bidding, Imogen had gone to see her after dinner, to let her know how her first day at Hogwarts had gone. The Gryffindor head of...
Introduction: Harry recovers at Shell Cottage (please read authors note at the end) This story does not reflect the attitudes or characters in the Harry Potter series, or have any affiliation with the author. Chapter 7 part 1 Hermione began to shake Harry as she tried to wake him from his exhaustion. What? No it cant be Ron, said Hermione hysterically as she shook Harrys arm vigorously. It was Ron, replied Harry as with a groan he sat up on the beach and felt sand-grains fall from his hair....
"You stupid, stupid Muggle." Vivian Jones had not been expecting to hear these words. Her day had started normally enough. She'd gotten up very early as usual, and headed out to work: a 40-minute commute on the 401 into Toronto. Almost always the first to arrive at work and the last to leave, the morning had been normal enough: she'd come in around seven a.m., and started right to work reviewing a request for a bid that had come in, a new condo to be built in the downtown core. She sent...
"I'm getting too old for this," thought Professor McGonnigal. She was sitting at the head of a rather sparsely-populated professors' table in the Great Hall, assuming Dumbledore's place in the headmaster's absence. It was not that this task was not in any way taxing. But Dumbledore had ordered her to watch the school in his absence, and it was the waiting she found difficult. She would much rather have been in the depths of the forest than sitting at a table, listening to the chatter of...
As the weeks passed, Imogen found she was able to work harder and more effectively as she gained experience. She resorted to the time-turner with increasing frequency, and her typical day was thirty hours long. She was beginning to truly believe that she would meet her self-imposed goal of catching up with her peers by the start of the second term. She'd kept the list of curses given her by Professor Flitwick, and had learned a few of them. Anyone challenging her to a duel now might get a...
Christmas day, and dinner at 12 Grimmauld Place. Thanks to McGonagall's skill, although the external physical dimensions of the dining room had not increased an inch, it was now able to accommodate most of the Weasley family and friends along with numerous members of the Order. Arthur Weasley was not present, for the recent hearing had been a great strain upon him. His wounds had reopened, and he had been taken back to St. Mungo's. The healers had repeated their assurances that Mr. Weasley...
"Thank you very much for coming; it means so much to all of us," said Arthur Weasley, shaking Dumbledore's hand. Dumbledore only nodded by way of reply. He was near the end of his strength, the visit to the Burrow being his fourth such call of the day. Ernie MacMillan's family had handled the news with tremendous calm and courage, but after that, things had been much more difficult. Dumbledore's visit to the mother of Marietta Edgecombe had been truly terrible. Mrs. Edgecombe was a widow...
A few days later Olwyna was soaring above the forest, nearing the end of another journey to Surrey and back, bearing yet another letter from the unemployed wordsmith, Rita Skeeter. It was early in October, and the day a glorious sudden return to the warmth of the summer just passed. Olwyna was not more than an hour from her perch in the Hogwarts owlery, but she was very hungry, and had to break her journey for a quick snack. Dropping to tree level, she kept a close watch on a clearing...
"How is he doing?" asked Hermione, closing the infirmary door quietly behind her. "No change so far," whispered Montague, drawing Hermione away from Draco's bed. "It looks like he's still out cold, but Pomfrey says we shouldn't talk around him, because you never know - maybe he can hear us. Mind you, he's hardly moved a muscle during my shift. At least his face has stopped twitching — Pomfrey says that's a good sign." "Madam Pomfrey, if you don't mind," said the healer,...
Neville leaned against a wall in Borgin and Burkes, flipping through a book of rare curses. The descriptions were in Old English, dating from Chaucer's time, and the calligraphy was so ornate as to render the text incomprehensible. But the illustrations were clear enough. Positively gruesome. Neville turned the book sideways to look at a painting of a man who had been turned inside out. Unseen by Neville, Old Borgin bowed his customer out of the shop, and then dropping the obsequious manner...
The end of fifth year was cheerful, but anti-climatic. Imogen was sure she had performed well on her final exams, not at the level of her friend Hermione, to be sure, but she was confident that she'd obtained O.W.L.s in all her chosen subjects. At the end of term feast, Gryffindor easily won the house cup, Dumbledore awarding one hundred points for each Death Eater that a student had killed in the final battle at the Ministry. The thousand points Gryffindor gained thereby made its victory...
The cell was not as Harry had imagined it would be. He had expected a dark, nasty place: damp and smelly as well, with unpleasant insects crawling about. But the room would have been bright had the day not been so overcast, for the cell had large windows on three sides, giving a view of the sky and sea when the clouds permitted. The furniture was sparse: a bed, a small desk and chair along with a bookshelf was all the room contained. A gaunt, aged man sat cross-legged in a far corner,...
"A very unusual specimen, I must say," said Bathsheda Babbling, running a pencil lead back and forth over a piece of fine parchment, the etching on the blade of Harry's knife gradually appearing. "Where did you get this weapon? The script is unlike any I've ever seen." The Ancient Runes professor prided herself on her knowledge of the languages of magical folk, ancient and modern, and was delighted to find something with which she was completely unfamiliar. "A Christmas gift," said...
I first Read this story 3 days ago here on this page but it was not completed, so my OCD kicked in and i looked for the rest. So i am in no way a writer and this is not my story, however i though it would be nice to post it here for those like me who go crazy with unfinished workl can sleep easy. I hope you all enjoy it as much as i did.Thanks you OldWolf who is the first person i see post it and from what i can see is the original writer.Harry awakens with a groan. He feels the back of his...
Harry can feel himself smile reassuringly, "How can I help?"Cho's heart skips a beat as she sees Harry's smile, one so loving, so compassionate, so unlike the bastard who had made her publicly humiliate herself. "I was wondering if you would mind me not sleeping with you tonight."Harry chuckles and says, "Tonks talk got through huh?"Surprisingly, Cho doesn't take offence at Harry's laughter nor his question. "To a degree, at the minimum it got me thinking. I need to process this more...
A quorum for a sitting of the Wizengamot was a mere seventeen of its members. When the prosecution of death eaters had been at its peak, often double that number had been present. But today, the day before Christmas, the hearing chamber was full, all fifty-one members in attendance and the packed chamber giving a sense of importance and urgency to the proceedings. The only other occasion in the last ten years on which the chamber had been full was the prosecution of Harry Potter a few months...
Only the day after her sentence started and just prior to the end of the year, Rita Skeeter submitted the first of her reports to the Ministry, as required by the terms of her release. When Dumbledore had proposed this as a part of Skeeter's sentence, he believed that the Wizengamot would think it hard punishment indeed to compel Skeeter to catalogue her humiliation on a regular basis. As usual, Dumbledore had judged correctly, for many of the members believed that Skeeter's reports would...
Chapter 7 part 1 Hermione began to shake Harry as she tried to wake him from his exhaustion. ‘What? No it can’t be Ron,’ said Hermione hysterically as she shook Harry’s arm vigorously. ‘It was Ron,’ replied Harry as with a groan he sat up on the beach and felt sand-grains fall from his hair. ‘You must have been mistaken Harry,’ said Hermione shakily, her eyes wide in a manic shock. ‘It was Ron,’ repeated Harry weakly. ‘But..,’ ‘Hermione,’ said Harry more forcefully, cutting Hermione...
Part 9 and there was Three Harry woke feeling his wives, wives I have two wives, he smiled, laying next him, his eyes closed. Hermione snuggled up to him, her leg over his, Ginny on his other side pressing into him, their heads on his chest and shoulder, their breasts against him, he could feel their breaths on his skin, their heart beats, Hermiones wetness on his thigh, Ginnys hand gently holding his erect manhood. He laid there thinking of how his life had turned around it the last years. ...
This is a fanfic of 'Charmed' and Harry Potter, the characters are owned by their respective owners. Harry Potter gets 'Charmed' By Eric Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were trapped in Snape's Office after hours. Snape was at the door blocking their escape! "I know you're in there, Potter!" he said happily, gloating. "At last I have you red handed, Mr. Perfect Porter! This time not even Dumbledore will keep me from punishing you all!" He started to open the...
Chapter 1 *2 months later* ‘Happy Birthday, Harry!’ cheered the occupants of the dining table in the Weasley household, as they all raised their goblets in celebration of Harry’s 18th birthday. ‘Thank-you everybody,’ replied a beaming Harry as he looked around at the various people around the table. Every member of the Weasley family was sat smiling back at him, except for Ron who was still away on his self-imposed exile. ‘Well open up your presents then Harry dear,’ said Mrs Weasley...