Thoughts and The Fidelius Charm
“Incendio,” he muttered, and blue-bell flames flew from his wand tip and ignited the wood in the fireplace. He grabbed a pinch of powder from a small flowerpot on the mantle and threw it into the flames. They turned a bright, emerald green and Dumbledore stuck his long, bearded face into the fire and said clearly, “Bill and Fleur Weasley.”
He pulled his face out of the fire and Wendy was amazed to see not a hair on his head was singed. Her amazement was cut short, however, when she saw who was revolving around in the green flames. Her parents.
Fleur gracefully slipped out of the fireplace, while Bill had got his long ponytail caught on one of the uneven bricks and was trying in vain to unhook it.
Fleur clucked her tongue reprovingly, sounding exactly like Mrs. Weasley. Fleur walked over and placed a swift kiss on his cheek before wrenching the ponytail away from the fireplace, causing Bill to yelp with pain.
“Thanks, love,” he muttered, wincing as he clutched his severed hair.
“Pas problem, William,” she said sweetly in her French accent.
“You called, Albus?” asked Bill, the faded scars on his face twisting in concern.
“Indeed, I did, Bill. You see, we were discussing the topic of your daughter,” said Dumbledore.
“Millicent? What ‘as she done now?” asked Fleur, narrowing her eyes at her eldest.
Dumbledore placed his hands on Millie’s shoulder, who was throwing a dirty look at her mother for assuming it was her.
“It is not Millie we are talking about, Fleur. Wendolin has been the topic for the past half hour.”
Fleur let out a small gasp.
“But ‘ow is zat possible?” she asked throatily, looking to her husband. “She ‘as not been ‘eard of een years!”
“That may well be the case, Fleur, but the topic is still young Wendolin. She seems to have been at Hogwarts for the past few weeks,” said Dumbledore quietly.
“At ‘Ogwarts? ‘Ow? Meester Dumbly-dorr, I ‘ope you are not … ‘ow do you say … pulling my leg?” she looked back at Bill who was looking at Dumbledore is disbelief.
He placed a hand on Fleur’s shoulder and guided her into the chair next to Wendy’s. Wendy noticed her mother walked with a slight limp, and as Fleur sat down, there seemed to be a sort of connection between the two of them.
Fleur started, as though surprised to find what she saw to be Giselle sitting there, along with Harry and Halle.
“What is ze meaning of zis meeting, Dumbly-dorr? What are all our nieces doing ‘ere? Surely zey should not be eencluded een such a meeting?” She glared at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore sighed and sat down next to Harry, facing Fleur and Wendy. Bill walked over and sat next to his wife, and he too glared at Dumbledore as he clasped her hand.
“Surely, as Fleur said, you could have waiting until the children were not here to bring up such a topic?” he said harshly.
“Children? You’re calling us children?” Halle burst out at her Uncle.
Bill turned around. “You are too much like my dear brother for you own good,” he said lightly, but there was no trace of a smile on his face.
Millie could tell nothing good was going to come of this and lead a fuming Halle out of the room, beckoning Wendy to follow. Wendy looked startled at the watch on Dumbledore’s wrist and gasped. She had two minutes left until the potion wore off!
Down the stone steps she flew (for the second time) and down into the dungeons she scampered.
She passed the stone gargoyle, giving the password, and entered the Slytherin common room, to be greeted with a distressed Griselda who was kneeling over a wheezing Warren. Griselda turned on her in a wave of fury.
“You”” she poked Wendy in the chest, which was now Wendy’s own, considerably flatter, chest, “”are the reason he might die!”
“Why do you mean, ‘might die’, Griselda? What did I do to Warren? It was all his doing,” she said coldly.
Griselda was struck dumb. How dare this girl tell her it was his entire fault? If it hadn’t been for her, Warren wouldn’t have kissed her … and Harry Potter … he wouldn’t have hurt him … She saw clearly now.
“How can we hurt Harry Potter in the most malicious way ever?” asked Griselda in an even voice.
Wendy smiled evilly, the dark circles under her eyes deepening and darkening.
Upstairs in Harry’s office the four adults were still arguing vehemently over Wendy’s whereabouts. Bill and Fleur were in total denial, and Harry could not for the life of him see why.
“Why on earth are we fighting like this?” said Harry angrily to Bill.
“We are fighting, dear brother-in-law, because you refuse to accept Wendy had passed on. Look at her; look what distress you have caused her,” Bill shot back, motioning to Fleur.
Fleur did indeed look as if she had taken a turn for the worse. Her hair was greasy and unkempt once more, and her eyes were sunken, as if the memory of her daughter had brought back the harsh memories, feelings and appearances of nearly eleven years before.
“I will ‘ave nuzzing to do wit looking for Wendolin. She ‘as passed on to ze afterlife to be with my dear muzzer and grandmuzzer, and I do not want you telling me ozzerwise,” she said weakly, clinging to Bills arm.
Bill continued to glare at Harry, who seemed quite taken aback at their responses. Surely (he thought to himself) they would have welcomed Wendy not in fact being dead (as the whole family had expected after all this time without so much as a hair from her head) instead of undoubtedly denying her existence.
Bill cleared his throat then looked around at Dumbledore, his wife and finally Harry before coolly saying, “Well, I expect you all have better things to attend to, especially you, Albus.” He then helped Fleur out of her chair and towards the fire.
Dumbledore stepped forward calmly and placed an old, wrinkled hand on Bill’s shoulder. Though he turned around in impatience, he did not shrug it off.
“Just remember, the Order is always there for you and Fleur, no matter the feelings between its members, you know that Bill,” he said calmly.
All he got was a curt nod in return from Bill, and a small forced smile from Fleur. She threw a pinch of Floo Powder in the flames, and Bill quietly said, “The Burrow.”
Dumbledore turned back to Harry, who was watching the empty grate with a weird expression on his face.
“Y’know, ever since that fire I’ve been getting odd twinges … you know … in my scar. Do you think it’s somehow related to their point-blank denial? It is a bit strange, after all, but there have been way too many coincidences of late, as you well know, Albus,” he said, running his fingers around his bottom lip.
Dumbledore turned away from Harry and stared broodingly into the sooty fireplace. “Such as, Harry? What type of coincidences? They may merely be, as you put it, a coincidence, but what if I was to say I think it part of a great design? It’s like a pack of dominoes, you see, one incident sets off another, and so on,” he said after a moment.
Dumbledore remained with his back to Harry, who was fed up with the old man’s mysterious ways.
“Albus,” he burst out, resting his hand on the old man’s velvety shoulder. “How can you say Wendy’s appearance and the fire were unrelated? I thought we had already established she was the one who lit the fire, though young she was. She couldn’t have, of course, lit a real Everlasting Fire, but you know as well as me from whom she learnt that incantation. Lord Voldemort is no longer in hiding,” he said fiercely, staring into the aging man’s eyes.
Dumbledore sighed. “I know, Harry. After the battle in your seventh-year all that time ago, Lord Voldemort went into hiding. He was biding his time, as he did during your ten year stay at the Dursleys, until he had some leverage against you as a family.”
Harry’s brows unfurrowed in understanding. “Wendy,” he breathed.
Dumbledore inclined his head to indicate Harry’s answer was, indeed, correct.
“Lord Voldemort sees young Wendolin as leverage. He sees that, should she need your help, you will come to her rescue, as you did Ginny in your second-year, Ron in your third-year, Sirius in your fifth-year, and at long last, myself in your sixth-year at Hogwarts. You see, Harry, as your sister-in-law, Mrs. Hermione Weasley, discovered while working in the Department of Mysteries, the power of love that resides in the locked room is what draws the courage and adrenaline to you, and is why you have a certain fondness of … err …playing the hero you might call it.”
Harry was fuming. Not a year had gone past since he discovered he was a wizard had he not, at least once, been called a hero, or been told to stop playing the hero.
“Y’know Dumbledore, I’m quite sick of people telling me that. Not that I don’t agree entirely, for it is true, but I just wish people would stop putting it that way.”
Dumbledore stared into Harry’s green eyes hard, as though asking something inside of him to show itself.
“You cannot deny who you are inside, Harry. It is that tendency that marks you as an individual, it marks who you are on the inside. People will forever view you as ‘The Boy-who-Lived’, but those who know the real you understand that this … trait you possess is of you, and no one else.”
Harry nodded in understanding. “Shall we discuss another pressing matter in your office? One, I feel, should include the girls’ parents,” he said, motioning to the door.
Dumbledore nodded in agreement. “We shall.”
Giselle was sluggishly lying in a musty cupboard in the Slytherin common room. She dimly recognized the disgusting smell that had awoken her from her sleep as mothballs. She tried valiantly to push the door open, but her body, weakened from the effect the potion had on her, wouldn’t allow more than a thump, which of course, Wendy and Griselda heard as they plotted Harry Potter’s fate.
“I still say we should keep Potter here. Losing his daughter should really mess him up.”
“No … it takes more than a threat to destroy Harry Potter. It takes action. Perhaps if Little Miss Sunshine over there wasn’t listening to our conversation I could tell you what action to take, but …” she said her voice low.
The blond Slytherin in the corner, however heard this and decided now was the time to waltz over and introduce herself.
“Barbara Paic and you are …?” she questioned, her blue eyes lingering on Wendy, whom she did not recognize.
“Wendolin … and Griselda Goyle,” said Griselda, who did not know Wendy’s true last name. Wendy herself was not sure after the meeting in Harry’s office, but repeated inside her head what she had always been told by her master.
“Every one of my followers is important to me, as you very well know Wendolin, but you are by far the most precious of Lord Voldemort’s servants,” he had always hissed in her ear. “You are bound to me now, and therefore will always be known as my child of darkness. My true daughter.”
“Wendolin Riddle,” she put forth, eyeing the interfering girl. Her long, blonde hair fell in cascades around her bold, yet somewhat angelic looking face. What Griselda knew of her, however, was enough to discourage this thought. Her long, navy blue robes brought out the colour in her eyes, and they glinted as she moved closer to Wendy.
“I see …” she said delicately. “And whom might your father be?” she asked, her voice curiously low.
“Tom Marvolo,” she said evenly. Wendy didn’t elaborate.
Perhaps Barbara was getting tired of the tight lipped Wendy, because she flounced away to where a solitary figure was lounging on a settee.
“You know, Wendolin Riddle, my friends call me Barica,” she called over.
“That’s nice, Barbara,” she said coolly, and Barica’s lovely face hardened, and she threw a malevolent look her way.
“You’d better watch yourself, Riddle. You’re not so big,” she hissed, showing pointed, yet very straight teeth.
“Oh, but I am,” said Wendy in a purr, turning back to Griselda whom was watching her with a mixture of respect and fright.
“Well done. Not many people have the courage to stand up to Barbara Paic, you know,” she said in a confidential whisper.
“Oh, that? That wasn’t courage; that was initiative. You have to learn how to deal with certain people,” she said, looking over at the closet that held Giselle.
Griselda raised her eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.
* * *
Alone in the cupboard, Giselle was starting to go mad. She had been here for what felt like hours, and decided to do something to break the monotony. She could think of nothing to do in this confining space to pass the time except sing, her off-key voice warbling along to her favorite song:
Seems like everything’s the same around me
Then I look again and everything has changed
I’m not dreaming so I don’t know why
She’s every where I wanna be
Her murmurings were cut off by a blinding contrast of light from outside the cupboard. She was free.
* * *
“Get up, Giselle,” said Wendy briskly, and Giselle recoiled and squinted at her savior. It looked like Millie … though …it couldn’t be. Millie was in Hufflepuff, and she was trapped in Slytherin.
“Get up,” said Wendy again, and Giselle thought this time it did sound and sort of look like Millie … but younger …Wendy?
“Wendy?” she asked weakly, still squinting upwards.
“Yes, cousin. It is I … we mustn’t delay any further. The Dark Lord is waiting for you.” There was a sense of urgency in her voice.
Giselle was confused. What was this about Voldemort?
“What about Voldemort? Huh…what?” she dropped back down in the cupboard, her body hidden in shadow.
Wendy impatiently bent down and rolled her over so she was looking in her eyes.
“There is no time to waste. Tonight, when Lucius Malfoy’s son comes to collect you, you will not be there. I shall instead, but he will not know that. I’m making this last sacrifice to save my sister and her family, please do not mess this up by telling your father, though he has a right to know. He mustn’t know anything about this; The Dark Lord will sense it through the new connection. Please …I am begging you,” she said pleading with Giselle.
Giselle’s head swam. This was all too much for her to handle right now. She blacked out again.
* * *
Wendy shook Giselle, but Giselle didn’t wake. She growled in frustration, and a passing by Barica snorted and smirked.
“Someone needs some anger management,” she whispered slyly to her boy toy whom she was leading up the stairs to her dormitory. He nodded in agreement, but looked down at Wendy’s feet and saw Giselle. His smile widened, and Barica followed his gaze. She glared at Giselle, having seen her take Warren right from under Griselda’s nose and saw what she thought to have happened. She too smiled and then led the boy up the stairs, tugging on his arm as she went. The boy, however, didn’t let his gaze drop from Giselle’s sweet face until he had rounded the corner and it became physically impossible for him to catch sight of her.
Wendy stopped looking at Giselle and looked after the boy, whom she recognized. Lucifer Malfoy, she thought. Then she groaned. He was the one supposedly coming to pick Giselle up tonight. The one to deliver her to the Dark Lord, their master. She just hoped this was a minor glitch in the plan, and wouldn’t affect it in anyway. He wasn’t to know she was switching places with her.
With enormous strength for a ten-almost-eleven-year old, she hoisted Giselle out of the closet and onto her coat-hanger shoulders. Then, as fast as she could manage, set off for Professor Dumbledore’s study as fast as she could, Disillusioning herself as she did.
Professor Dumbledore, Harry, Ron, Halle, Millie and a very pregnant Hermione, were sitting quietly in Dumbledore’s study. Callie, however, was not. She was running around, pulling papers off desks and throwing them in the air gleefully, zooming around making plane noises and screeching when she came to a stop in front of a tired looking Ginny, who scooped her up in her arms and set her down in her lap. Ginny gave an apologetic smile as she sat down next to Harry, who tickled Callie. She squirmed and giggled in her mother’s hold. Ginny narrowed her eyes at Harry and he desisted, grinning sheepishly.
Ginny turned back to Dumbledore who was watching them over the rims of his half-moon glasses.
Ron, becoming impatient with the silence now that Callie was subdued, was the first to speak.
“Why are we here, Dumbledore?” he burst out, ignoring Hermione’s warning hand on his wrist.
“Ronald! Albus must have some reason. He is waiting for everyone to arrive before starting. It’s called manners, something you know very little about, obviously,” she said scathingly.
“You were not able to convince Fleur and Bill to come back, Dumbledore?” Harry asked, shifting so Ginny could place Callie in his lap.
“Alas, no. They would not subject themselves to our theories again. They would rather be in the dark than know the acute details. They still fear a repetition of what happened so long ago. Sometimes someone knowing too much can jeopardize trust between two people when the other does not have the same knowledge. They prefer to have the same amount. Absolutely nothing,” he said, breathing deeply through his long crooked nose.
Ginny murmured to Harry, and he nodded.
“Yes dear, no tickling,” he said calmly, straightening his glasses.
“But where’s Giselle?” asked Halle, looking towards her mum. Hermione looked towards Ron, who shrugged his shoulders.
“How should I know?” he asked Hermione.
“Well, Ronald, that conversation we had last night? About you being all-knowing?” she said narrowing her eyes at him.
Ron went bright red, blushing to the roots of his red hair. Harry, too, went red, and glanced at Ginny who had a slight smile on her face.
“Erm … dear perhaps this is not the time or place to bring this up?” he asked Hermione
pleadingly. Hermione relaxed a bit, but she took her arm of his.
Millie had had enough. “I’m going to find Giselle,” she said simply, and walked out of the room.
“Wait!” said Halle, and she followed her down the spiral stairs.
“Why didn’t you stop her, Hermione?” asked Ron rudely.
“That’s it Ronald. You’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” she said, turning away from him.
Ron stared dumbfounded at Dumbledore whose eyes were twinkling, to Ginny, who was trying hard not to laugh at her idiotic brother, to Harry, who was biting down on his knuckles in an attempt to stop guffawing.
* * *
Wendy deposited a stirring Giselle at the bottom of the stairs just as she heard two teenage girls clambering down the stairs. She quickly muffled her breathing and hid behind a statue of a griffin, while Halle’s shallow breathing masked her own. Millie had run back upstairs to find her Uncle, and could be heard yelling in desperate French, to all but a baffled Ron.
Halle started to drag Giselle up the stony steps, and looked behind her to see where she was going. Wendy took this as her chance and sprinted off towards the Slytherin common room, a few strands of Giselle’s gleaming hair held in her small, wasted hand.
“Set her down there, Miss Weasley,” said Dumbledore, motioning to the settee next to the fireplace.
Both Millie and Halle looked at Dumbledore.
“Which one?” said Halle stupidly.
Millie snorted. “Both of us, dumbo. C’mon, over here.”
Halle scowled at being called a dumbo, but Millie merely smiled and set Giselle down on the velvety seat, then sat next to her.
Dumbledore came over, his long nose an inch from Giselle’s face, and began to prod and poke her limp body, studying her ashen features for any sense of change.
“What is it?” asked Harry, who had been quiet until Dumbledore had finished his examination.
“Nothing to worry about, Harry. She seems to have overdosed on something, though I am not sure what … has Giselle been acting strange of late?” asked Dumbledore.
“Well,” said Harry as though it was obvious to everyone in the room, “She has just been sorted into Slytherin, if you do remember. She’s probably been up all night as well, and with everything going on with that boy, the fire, and the sorting, you’d think maybe she’s just exhausted,” said Harry scornfully.
“Yes… well, we must discuss something later, but now, we have a more pressing matter to attend to. Could you, Ron, please find Professor Flitwick, and Hermione, please find Poppy? I think we might need her to revive Miss Potter,” he said, talking to Hermione and Ron, and gracefully ignoring Harry. He was about to say something, but Ginny placed a comforting hand on his knee, though she too was white.
“Certainly, Headmaster,” said Hermione politely, leaving the room with Ron in tow whispering to her in her ear.
Silence followed, and there was not a sound in the study except for the light snores and whistles Callie made in her sleep. Halle and Millie were not looking at each other, but were stroking Giselle’s hair and arm softly as she lay sprawled on the settee. Everyone started talking at once as both Madame Pomfrey and Professor Flitwick entered the room.
“Please, please, my friends,” said Dumbledore, motioning for them to be quiet.
“Is there anything you can do immediately for Miss Potter, Poppy?” he asked Madame Pomfrey.
“Delicate little things…Oh my, what’s happened here?” she gasped.
“Giselle has been attacked, so it would seem, so please Poppy, if you could help her?” Harry hurriedly said, motioning for Madam Pomfrey to hurry up.
Madam Pomfrey checked her pulse, heart rate, measured her temperature, and clicking her tongue, forced a measure of smoking potion down a now upright Giselle’s throat. Giselle coughed and spluttered, though now she was awake, and Ginny jumped to her feet and ran over to her daughter.
“Are you alright, pumpkin? Come on,” she said soothingly to Giselle, who pushed her away massaging her temples.
“Please mum, there are too many people talking!” she shouted. Ginny looked taken aback.
“But Giselle, there isn’t anyone else talking. Headmaster?” she turned to Dumbledore who was surveying Giselle, who was looking around wildly.
“Just a slight side effect of the potion, Headmaster,” said Madam Pomfrey reprovingly. She collected her things and bustled out of the room after checking Giselle was okay.
“Now, Professor Flitwick. I believe you have something you’d care to share with us?” asked Dumbledore.
Professor Flitwick cleared his throat loudly and clambered up on top of Dumbledore’s desk so he could be heard by all.
“Professor Dumbledore has asked me here today to explain to you the complexity of the Fidelius Charm,” he said squeakily.
Hermione gasped and looked toward Dumbledore. He nodded gravely.
“It has come to my attention that we should protect young Misses Weasley and Miss Potter from any harm, caused by their cousin Wendolin or her master, Lord Voldemort.”
Now it was Ginny’s turn to gasp. “Our daughters are being harmed by Voldemort. Oh … oh no …please, not again …” she whispered. Harry put a strengthening hand around his wife and said huskily, “Please, Professor, continue.”
Flitwick cleared his throat again and looked around at the group gathered there in Dumbledore’s study.
“An immensely complex spell, involving the concealment of a secret inside one single, living soul,” he looked towards Hermione, indicating she would be the girls’ Secret Keeper and continued. “The information will be hidden inside Hermione, the chosen Secret Keeper, for she is the brightest by far, and the most unexpected candidate of all of you, for you Harry, are the most obvious choice, as is your wife and best friend. Hermione, however, is a Muggleborn, and You-Know-Who will overlook her, picturing her as to incompetent of keeping such a secret. The girl’s whereabouts will be impossible to find, they will not even show up on Professor Potter’s map, and can only be revealed if the Secret Keeper reveals their location.
“As long as Hermione refuses to speak, which she can assure you will happen, You-Know-Who could be standing right next to me and not be able to see or hear Millicent, Halle or Giselle. You see, that is the genius of it. They would be completely invisible to him or any of his followers, including Wendolin, and completely silent in their presence. Also, because they still have to continue their schooling, all the necessary persons will be informed of their whereabouts. Because they’re constantly moving, by the time anyone got word to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named they would be gone! Such genius!” he squeaked excitedly, toppling off his perch on Dumbledore’s desk.
“Thank you, Professor. Now please, could we carry along with the spell?”
“Of course, Professor, as you wish.”
Flitwick motioned for the girls to stand in front of him. Halle and Millie had to support Giselle between them.
Flitwick made a series of complicated motions over the girls’ heads, then circling their bodies doing the same movements, he then asked for Hermione to place him back on the desk so he could utter the incantation over all four of them.
“Eyegniees Sihmorf Slrigeseht Edih, ” he said slowly and clearly, rotating his wand over each of the girls heads, then finally resting his wand tip on Hermione’s heart.
The wind rattled the glass panes in the windows, the ashes in Fawkes’s tray were expelled all over the room and Callie’s hair was pushed over her face by a strong wind that came out of nowhere.
The wind pushed Hermione’s curls back from her face, making her seem younger and nobler. Her fine features were escalated into mesmerizing beauty as a sparkle of light flew from each of the girls’ mouths and hovered slightly in front of Hermione’s face. Her lightning bolt necklace came up to meet the spark of light, and then, as they touched the glinting point of the bolt, the wind vanished and everything returned to normal, save the pile of ashes at Callie’s feet. The lightning bolt shined with renewed light as Hermione sat down serenely next to her husband and clasped his hand in hers, all arguments forgotten. She looked as radiant and proud as Harry had every seen her.
“There you have it, girls, your innermost souls are in the possession of your Aunt, and everything is at peace, for now. You will return to the allocated houses and spend the night there, as if nothing has happened, with the exception of Giselle. She will be resorted into Hufflepuff, away from any torment which might cause a relapse. I am sorry, Halle, but you are now left in Ravenclaw with Miss Lal and Miss Tattersall. They, of course, will take care of you, not that you need taking care of,” said Dumbledore.
Halle quietly helped Giselle back to the settee where Ginny was waiting to envelop her daughter in a hug, then quietly walked over to her mother and father and sat between them. Ron reached down and tousled Halle’s bushy hair, a show of affection.
“Don’t worry, Hal, the common room is almost finished, it’s just one night, after all,” he said to comfort her.
Halle bravely nodded and stole a glance at Millie, who was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, unable to join her parents, as they had refused to attend the meeting. She dearly hoped Dumbledore had informed them of the charm taking place.
“Erm…we should probably be going now, right Halle?” she said quietly.
“Yeah…sure,” said Halle, just a quiet.
She hugged her father good-bye, then gave her mother a peck on her glowing cheek and fondly rubbed her bulging belly.
“Seeya later, squirt,” she whispered, kissing her mother’s belly before she left with Millie.
“That is all, for now. You may all return to your homes. I daresay you all need some rest after this tiring ordeal,” Dumbledore ushered Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny, who was carrying a sleeping Callie to the gilded fireplace.
“Please feel free to use Floo Powder,” he said, before taking off his pointy hat and climbing the stone steps to his quarters.
Harry threw some powder into the flames, and they turned emerald green, matching his and Callie’s eyes.
“Shrieking Shack!” he cried, and pulled Ginny into the fire with him, and waved one-handedly to Hermione and Ron, who gave him a freckled smile in return. Then they were gone and it was time for Ron to help Hermione into the fire.
“Come on, now…that’s it. There we go,” he said, giving her his arm for support.
“Ronald, I don’t need your help,” she wheezed, but took his arm all the same.
“Number 12 Grimmauld Place,” she said softly, planting a soft kiss on her husband’s cheek.
The fire flew upwards and Hermione and Ron were on their way home.
“Oh my!” said little Professor Flitwick from the top of Dumbledore’s desk. “Won’t somebody help me down? How am I going to get down?”
A/N:
Laura Lal: my Siriusly Obsessed mate
Tegan Tattersall: the one who introduced me to the Potterverse. For that m’dear, I thank you greatly ::hands over cookies::
Barica/Babs/Barbara: BABY HIPPO’S ROCK! LOL Babs has this obsession with Leprechauns, so I thought I’d introduce her to my story. You’d be surprised at how amusing she found the whole scene!
I hope I made you laugh with poor Professor Flitwick! Oh well, please remember, Read AND REVIEW!! I love hearing from you, so please don’t deny me the satisfaction of having a little icon come up on my screen “You’ve got mail!”
[Lmao] I’ve upgraded Lori’s food from bread and water to cheese and crackers, I thought she deserved something a little more special so I threw in some Coke too for being such a good sport and reading my LONGEST chapter yet! Ttyl all, don’t forget to review!! ~Lurid*
Oh, and PS- Kudos go to Lori for pointing out that Babs takes her “boy toy” up to her dorm. =-) Giselle isn’t all sugar and spice! Having Harry for a father, a Marauder for an Uncle and Hermione for an aunt makes for an interesting array of spells… and having Ron for an Uncle makes for a very loose jaw on Millie’s behalf. =-)
+*~_-*Total story Malicious Intentions: 47 A4 pages!! Woohoo!*-_~*+ 5,143 words!!