Chapter 13 The Halloween Ball at Old George's Place
"Hermione," Harry began as they sat down for breakfast on Tuesday. "I have a question about the Sympathetic Bonding spell. Have you learned more about it?"
"I've been able to read part of the book by Amours and Lovelynn, but not all of it," she said. "Madam Pomfrey encouraged me to learn more since we've already taken the plunge, but I'm spending so much time in detention," she complained. It's hard to keep up with regular class work and Nursing class and Professor McGonagall wants to start animal transfigurations and I need to spend time working on house-elf rights issues instead of just cleaning pots…"
"Some girls tried to kiss me," Harry interrupted.
"You're supposed to be betrothed to me," Hermione stated bluntly.
"Yeah, well “" Harry waffled. "I didn't ask them to kiss me."
"I know," she sighed. "You're the Boy Who Lived and the Triwizard Tournament Champion. You survived the duel in the graveyard with Lord Voldemort himself. And you're so brave and so cute and the Quidditch captain too. I know why they flirt with you," she sighed again.
“You left out that I’m The Love King,” Harry added.
“I also left out that nice girls have a way of falling for jerks,” she said.
“It’s a good thing that didn’t happen to you,” Harry shot back.
"What happens when they kiss you?" she snapped.
"There's an electric shock," Harry said.
"I think that's to be expected," Hermione explained. "We're magically bonded, legally married. It's a defense mechanism."
"Are you doing it?" Harry asked.
"Is it a real nasty shock that knocks the girl on her ass?" Hermione asked testily.
"No, just a little poke," Harry replied.
"It's caused by your own guilty conscious," Hermione said sharply. "If I was responsible it would be a real bolt of lightening. Apparently you don't feel too
bad about them kissing you."
"Ginny said you were responsible for the shocks," Harry said.
There's a lot of nonsense about Sympathetic Magic in trashy romance novels that witches like to read," Hermione explained. "I'll bet Mrs. Weasley has a few. I didn't know anything about Sympathetic Magic until we started doing spell research together. But what I do know comes from a reference book and not from some fiction."
"So what happens when some other boy kisses you?" Harry asked.
"I don't know!" she said indignantly. "I don't want other boys to kiss me. I just want you, Harry."
"I guess I'm stuck with you," Harry concluded.
"I'm sorry," she said mournfully.
"I didn't say it was bad," Harry added. “If I'm going to be stuck with one girl, it might as well be you."
"Oh, you are so romantic," Hermione said sarcastically.
"Let's go flying together on Sunday," Harry suggested. "I want to try some high powered aerobatics with you on the broom with me."
"You mean loops and rolls and stuff that will make me sick?" Hermione exclaimed. "I'm still in detention! I need Sunday to catch up on class work!"
"Mrs. Harry Potter has to be a good flyer," Harry stated bluntly. "Anyway I like holding you tight," he said with a grin.
“I think you like squeezing me,” she said.
At lunch, Dumbledore made a special announcement.
"Students, as you know, Mr. Cornelius Fudge our defense against the dark arts instructor was brutally murdered last month. The assassination of Mr. Fudge, who was our former Minister of Magic, has drawn international attention. For the next few days we will have special guests visiting us. The Americans have arrived. It is their intention to assist us in our endeavors to increase the safety and security of our school and to help us find a new permanent instructor for the defense against the dark arts. I will now turn the floor over to Mr. Charles Shrub, who is the Chairman of the Department of Illusion which is formal name for the American government."
"Howdy kids," began Chairman Shrub in an exaggerated Texas accent. "You foreign students don't need to worry no more, cause the Americans are here to solve the problem. For a few days we'll be studyin' your school. We'll develop a road map to security. We'll identify yore needs and appoint an American to be yore Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. We'll begin the process of cleanin' the terrorists out of this castle. And we will present convincing evidence that the true organizers of terrorism are the Ministers of the French government, and that regime change in that country is essential."
"Now I'll introduce my staff," he drawled. "Mr. Pritchard Rainy is the Vice Chairman of the Department of Illusion. If you have any questions, suggestions or information about the identity of terrorists in yore school, submit them to Mr. Rainy in writing. Do not ask me to answer yore questions. Miss Convolusia Corn is our Dark Arts Security Advisor. She'll say whatever we tell her to say. And the short witch in the military uniform is Private Scott, she'll be helpin' us interrogate terrorists."
"I'm sure you awl are wonderin' whut us Americans can do to solve this problem," Chairman Shrub continued. "Well we've brought a deck of cards and Dubyaloons."
"What's a Doubleyoon?" Ron whispered.
"I think he means Doubloon," Hermione answered quietly. "It's American money."
"Now these cards have got pictures of bad wizards on 'em," Mr. Shrub droned on. "Here's the Jack of Spades, it's Lucius Malfoy. You can get two hundred Dubyaloons for turnin' him in. Here's the Queen of Diamonds, Dolores Umbridge, she's worth one hundred Dubyaloons. The Queen of Spades, Bellatrix Lestrange, is worth three hundred Dubyaloons. This deck ain't complete yet. We've only got two queens. You awl just tell Mr. Rainy the names of other terrorists and we'll add 'em to the deck."
For the rest of the afternoon the American delegation wandered around Hogwarts disrupting classes and asking pointless questions like: "Don't Voldemort sound like a French name to you?" No one approached them except Pansy Parkinson, who slipped a note to Mr. Rainy.
Harry and the Quidditch team arrived in the Great Hall just before they stopped serving dinner that evening. He had barely reached the table when there was a loud crack of lightening and Hermione flew halfway to the Ravenclaw table and landed hard on her backside.
"Hermione!" Harry shouted as he ran over to her. "Are you alright?"
"Oohh," she moaned. "Ow… That hurt."
"What happened?" Harry asked, holding her.
"Dennis…" she said, "is he alright? The little twerp kissed me."
"Dennis!" Colin shouted. "He's not breathing!"
Fortunately Madam Pomfrey and Susan Bones were right there.
"Was that a result of your guilty conscious?" Harry asked Hermione.
"No! That was just a defensive response," she protested."
"I'm not that jealous, maybe you should try to relax a little bit," Harry said as he helped Hermione to the hospital.
"Maybe Hermione does have a guilty conscious," Ron suggested as they walked to the hospital. "Would you like me to fetch a stick for you Harry?" Ron asked as he examined Hermione's thumb.
Hermione glared at Ron in silence.
The start of the Tuesday Night patrols was delayed until nine o'clock, so the students could study a couple of hours and Ron ended the patrols at eleven. They didn't see a sign of Tuesday Night, but they kept running into the Americans who were roaming around the castle making noise.
The following morning the bleary eyed Harry and Ron trudged to the hospital to escort Hermione back to Gryffindor tower. Once again they ran into the Americans.
"That's a nice badge you've got there!" Mr. Shrub said to Ron. Then he turned to Harry, "Miss Corn tells me you're Harry Potter, and that you're one of the good guys. Do you boys want a chance to earn some Dubyaloons?" he asked them. "I'll deputize you and you can help us round up a terrorist suspect."
"We'd love to help you, Mr. Shrub," Harry said, "but we have to go to the hospital to pick up Hermione."
"Why you boys really are on the ball!" said Mr. Shrub. "That's who we're goin' to arrest, Hermione Granger."
"Hermione's no terrorist!" Harry said. "They've tried to murder her four times."
"Course she is," said Shrub, "look, we've put her picture on a card."
He showed Harry the Queen of Hearts.
"Where did you get the idea that Hermione is a terrorist?" Ron asked.
"A student informed on her," Shrub said proudly. "There's nothin' like Dubyaloons to loosin' up tongues. But there's lots of evidence. She's a trouble maker, lost a pile of house points. She's been in detention a whole lot. She hit a teacher. And she pert near killed that boy last night. She must be a terrorist. Has she ever been to France?"
"I think she was there about four years ago," Ron said, "but…"
"I knew the French were behind it all the time," concluded Mr. Shrub.
They met Hermione at the hospital door and Mr. Shrub conjured ropes to tie her up.
"Harry!" she cried, "what's this about?"
"Yore under arrest little lady," said Mr. Shrub. "Yore daze as a terrorist are over!"
"Mr. Shrub I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding," Harry said. "We should go to Professor Dumbledore."
"Why that's egg sackly what we're doin', Harry," said Mr. Shrub. "We're here to help you foreigners. We can tell Professor Dumbledore the right way to deal with terrorists."
"Don't worry Hermione," Harry said to her quietly, "this is all a mistake. We'll work things out when we get to Dumbledore's office."
"I hope this doesn't take too long," Hermione said, "I'm very tired and I want to get a little sleep before potions class. Dennis talked all night about what a knockout kisser I am, once we got his heart started again. And I didn't kiss him, he kissed me!"
"Well missy," Shrub said, "the sooner you confess, the sooner you can settle down in yore prison cell. Now just follow Pritchard, he's the real leader here."
"I'm not going to confess," Hermione said indignantly. "I've done nothing wrong."
"Yore a terrorist. You've been helpin' that French fellow Voldemort," Shrub said.
"And you'll confess. I've got a legal opinion from my attorney general that says it's OK to torture terrorists 'cause foreigners haven't got human rights."
"This is ridiculous," Hermione said. "Harry, Ron are you going to let them arrest me? This idiot is talking about torturing me!"
"Mr. Shrub, you can't torture Hermione," Harry said. "We're the good guys."
"Don't you worry about that Harry," Shrub said cheerfully. "Private Scott will actually do the torturing and if there's a congressional investigation, we'll blame it all on her."
"Hermione, you shouldn't call the American Minister of Magic an idiot," Ron said. "He's deputized us. We're going to get some Doubleyoons for arresting you." He grinned like it was a great joke.
"You're selling me out for money!" Hermione said furiously. "And just how much are you getting?"
"That's a good question," said Ron. "What's the reward for bringing in this terrorist?"
"This little lady's worth one hundred and fifty Dubyaloons," said Shrub. "Hey Pritchard are we cuttin' these boys in for a full share each?"
"Yes Mr. Chairman," answered Mr. Rainy. "It'll make you look generous."
"Private Scott is military, so the rest of us divide the reward five ways," Shrub said.
"Thirty Doubloons each?" Hermione complained, "That's about four Galleons and three Sickles! I'm worth more than that! Don't you think so Harry?"
"I think this is all getting silly," Harry said. "You're no terrorist. There'll be no reward. Dumbledore won't let them hurt you. I won’t let…"
He stopped abruptly.
"What's wrong with Mr. Rainy and Miss Corn?" Harry asked.
They were in the corridor near the entrance to Dumbledore's office. There was a mist hanging in the air. Ghostly hands had condensed around the throats of Mr. Rainy and Miss Corn. They were being strangled.
"Pritchard!" Shrub shouted, as he ran into the mist. Private Scott followed him.
Soon all four Americans were being strangled by ghostly hands. Harry moved forward.
"No Harry! Don't! It's Garroting Gas!" Hermione cried.
"They're dying! I'll hold my breath," Harry said.
"No! That won't work!" she shouted. "Garroting gas is magical. It's not poisonous. It'll kill you even if you don't inhale it!"
"What do we do?" Harry asked frantically.
"It’s too late for the Americans! You've got to warn Dumbledore to stay in his office!" Hermione said.
"Right," Harry said. "I'll need my broom. I can fly to his office window."
He ran to a window and pulled out his wand.
"No Harry!" Ron shouted. "If you set off a spell the alarm will sound and Dumbledore will come out! Use Hermione's wand!"
"Right," said Harry as he dashed over to Hermione.
"Oh! Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione shrieked.
"I'm looking for your wand," Harry said.
"Oh!… My… It's not there either," she said.
"It's not on your back. It's not on your thigh. Where is it?" Harry asked frantically.
"Left forearm," Hermione said in an exasperated tone.
"That's not much fun." Harry said as he took her wand from her sleeve.
Harry summoned his Firebolt from Gryffindor Tower. Then he gave Hermione's wand to Ron, mounted his broom and flew out the window. He circled the tower and tapped frantically on Dumbledore's office window.
"Good morning Harry," said Dumbledore as he opened the glass. "Did you forget the password to my office?"
"Professor Dumbledore, someone put Garroting Gas in the corridor by your door!" Harry shouted. "The Americans walked into the mist. It's strangling all of them!"
"This is terrible!" said Dumbledore. "I'll have Professor Snape prepare some antigarroting gas. You must block the corridor and let no one approach my office."
Dumbledore grabbed Fawkes and flew out the window towards Professor Snape's quarters. Harry flew back to Ron and Hermione.
Ron stayed near Dumbledore's office to stop anyone from entering the mist, while Harry took Hermione back to Gryffindor Tower.
"That was awful," Harry said. "Tuesday Night tried to kill Dumbledore with the Garroting Gas, but murdered the Americans by mistake! This could cause serious international problems."
"It was horrible," Hermione agreed. "I actually felt sorry for the Americans. It'll take Professor Snape hours to prepare antigarroting gas, so there'll be no potions class this morning," Hermione reasoned. "That means I can sleep more!" she said brightly. "And I'll be able to see the thestrals now!"
After the unfortunate deaths of the American politicians, all classes were canceled for the entire day. Students were confined to their dormitories while the castle was searched once again.
Harry spent the morning studying. For a while he was alone in his room and able to practice wandless summoning. He even read a few pages that Dumbledore had marked in the book about Human Sacrificial Rites. Harry couldn't understand why anyone would want to do the things that the book described. Had Tom Riddle done this? Why summon a cold, heartless viper-like creature from another realm? Why was this important? It was depressing.
The students were allowed to go to the Great Hall for lunch, but only one house at a time. Gryffindor was the last house to get lunch and everyone was hungry and grouchy by the time their turn came. Harry saw that Hagrid was getting his lunch so he went over to his giant friend.
"Hi Hagrid," Harry said. "Did you find anything?"
"Nothin' important," Hagrid replied, "but ol' Filchy found a trap."
"What sort of trap?" Harry asked.
"Twas an enchanted door," Hagrid answered. "It flew open in 'is face."
"Was Filch injured?"
"'e would've been knocked down the stairs if I 'adn't been right behind 'im," Hagrid said. "Ol' Filchy almost knocked me down the stairs. I 'ad to take 'im to Madam Pomfrey."
"Is he alright now?"
"Oh yeah, 'e's fine," Hagrid said. "e's off to town to fetch groceries now."
Later that afternoon Professor McGonagall took Harry, Hermione and Ron to a classroom where they were given Veritas serum and questioned by Dumbledore, Kingsley Shacklebolt and two Americans.
"Have you ever seen this bottle?" Shacklebolt asked, as he held up an ominous looking blue bottle that was clad with metal and had an unusual stopper.
"No," they all answered.
“How did you know the mist was Garroting Gas?” they asked Hermione.
“I had read about it in a book,” she replied.
It took more than an hour of questions but finally the Americans were convinced that Harry and his friends were not working with the murderer. As they left, the Americans and Shacklebolt got into an argument about the penetration of the British Ministry of Magic by Death Eaters. Someone had stolen that bottle of Garroting Gas from the Ministry.
Amos Diggory was very embarrassed by the deaths of the American leaders. He had been the one who had suggested that they could be helpful at Hogwarts. He did this in order to get them to leave London.
Fortunately the Americans had no real desire to start a war with the British. They just turned over the management of their government to a private consulting firm that was owned by Halibut and Endrunn Inc. a corporation that made enchanted items for their military. The cry for war with France faded away when it became possible for the corporation to take money from the American treasury without the need to hide it in inflated contracts for brooms, wands, potions and talismans. In subsequent elections voting was limited to Halibut and Endrunn shareholders. This eliminated the need to falsify vote counts in Rustyville and South Salem. A famous Quidditch player had been arrested for molesting young witches and the season was about to start so no one cared about politics anyway.
As the full moon of late October approached, Professor Lupin had to leave again. Kingsley Shacklebolt agreed to take over as substitute teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He thought he might as well stay at Hogwarts because he was tired of traveling back and forth between London and Hogwarts every time there was a murder.
Soon it was time for the annual Halloween Ball. Ron's date was Luna Lovegood. He thought it was a good idea to keep an eye on the articles she was submitting to Witch Weekly and The Quibbler. Ginny went with Neville Longbottom. Harry didn't have a date, since it was Friday night and Hermione was still in detention. Cho was alone too.
"Who's this fellow that's late for a date with you Cho?" Harry asked.
"He's like you and Cedric," Cho said. "He's brave, a school champion and a seeker."
"Victor Krum is coming?" Harry guessed.
"Right!" Cho said. "We met at the Quidditch game during YWWMC. I think he could have caught the snitch faster than he did, but he let the game go on a bit so we could spend more time flying together."
Harry wandered around the Ball, visiting with his friends and listening to the music. Most of the girls were tired of getting electric shocks and had stopped trying to kiss him. He chatted with Victor Krum for a few minutes. He watched Ron and Luna try to dance. He soon became bored. Before the Ball was half over, he quietly slipped out and made his way down to the kitchen.
The moment he entered the kitchen he dashed about half of the way to Hermione with his right hand held out.
"Accio Hermione's wand," he said, summoning the wand from the scabbard she was wearing on her thigh. "Colloportus," he said aiming her wand at the kitchen door.
"What was that about?" Hermione asked, while dozens of house-elves stared at him.
"Dennis and his gang were following me," Harry said as he took off his dress robes and laid them over a chair. "I thought you might want some help with the dishes," he said staring at her and rolling up his sleeves.
"I won't say no to that!" she said smiling.
Harry joined her at the sink.
"How does a wizard like Harry Potter know how to wash dishes?" an elf asked.
"My Aunt Petunia taught me how to wash dishes, she's a Muggle," Harry said.
"You are as strange as Miss Hermione," said the elf, "nice, helpful, very strange."
They worked quietly, occasionally smiling at each other.
The music filtered down from the hall above.
Together they finished the stack quickly.
"We've got a few minutes before the next stack arrives," Hermione observed. "Shall we dance?"
Harry smiled at Hermione. She looked so cute in her tea towels.
"You know I can't dance," he said.
"This one's easy. They're doing the slow dance," she said. "Just hold me tight, look into my eyes and sway with the music," she instructed him.
They began dancing slowly in the kitchen.
The elves quietly looked on.
Harry felt very happy.
Then his stupid scar began to hurt.
He ignored it.
It got worse.
He leaned his head against Hermione's.
That seemed to help.
"Your scar is hurting," Hermione said.
"How did you know?" he asked.
"I can feel it," she said.
"I love you," he said.
"And I love you too," she said.
They kept dancing.
His scar began to burn terribly.
He held her more tightly.
The pain was so bad he had to close his eyes.
"Conamorae," he said.
"Conamorae," she repeated.
"I wish he'd leave us alone," he said.
Suddenly the pain went away.
He looked into her eyes. There were tears on her cheeks, but she smiled in relief.
They danced until the music stopped.
Then they finished the dishes.
Harry kissed her goodnight and she walked to the pantry where her cupboard was.
Harry put his fancy robes back on and left the kitchen. Dennis and his gang were waiting near the painting of the fruit bowl. They escorted him to Gryffindor Tower.
A hundred of miles away, Peter Pettigrew nervously cleaned up a pile of vomit.
"Is my Lord feeling better?" he asked fearfully.
"Who fixed my dinner tonight, Wormtail?" Lord Voldemort asked coldly.
"Lucius served you tonight, my Lord," Pettigrew said trembling.
"Summon him," the Dark Lord commanded.
Lucius Malfoy was severely tortured that night.
Malfoy never understood why.
Harry didn't feel a thing.