Chapter 6 The Bird Sings
Harry didn’t know what to expect when the Horcrux was opened but he had guessed that the incredibly strong poison that he and Hermione had prepared would destroy Voldemort’s soul fragment instantly. He did not count on having a two-foot tall green ghost of the Dark Lord ordering him to remove the Horcrux from the cauldron.
“I command you to remove the Horcrux from the cauldron!” the little spectre repeated.
“And just who the hell are you?” Harry asked, stalling for time, hoping the poison would work.
“I am Lord Voldemort! I am the most powerful wizard of the age! I am invincible!” the little green thing shouted.
“Lord Voldemort you say!” Harry taunted him. “I fought a duel with Lord Voldemort once. And I lived to tell about it. The real Lord Voldemort is much taller than you.”
“If you remove the Horcrux from the cauldron, I’ll make you very powerful,” the image promised.
“Really?” Harry said mockingly, sensing weakness. “I don’t think I can trust you. If you’re the most powerful wizard of the age, why don’t you get out of the cauldron by yourself?”
Yellow flames began to appear on the surface of the liquid. This seemed to distress the Dark Lord’s ghost. He pointed a wandless hand at Hermione.
Crucio! the little monster said.
Hermione flinched in pain and pulled her arms close to her body but she held onto her wand and she stayed on her feet. She moaned but did not scream.
“Remove the Horcrux from the cauldron or I will kill her,” the shade said in a desperate tone as the yellow flames grew higher.
“I’ve got the tongs,” Harry said, picking them up with his left hand but pointing his wand at the little spectre with his right. “Release her first!”
“No Harry!” Hermione shouted. “Don’t do it. He’s bluffing! He’s getting weaker!”
The ghostly green image of Voldemort was nearly engulfed in yellow flames. A dozen little black hands on long skinny arms rose out of the cauldron and began grabbing at the evil wizard’s soul. Slowly but relentlessly the necrotic arms were pulling the green figure down into the pit of hell.
In a last defiant gesture Lord Voldemort’s soul fragment pointed at Hermione and shouted “Avada… “
“Silencio!, Harry shouted.
“AAaagh!” Hermione moaned as she collapsed to her knees.
The foul green visage disappeared into the cauldron in a burst of yellow flames mouthing a silent scream. With a whooshing noise the surface of the toxic liquid flashed red then turned black and became calm.
Hermione’s face was ashen but her eyes were focused on Harry. She wobbled and started to fall forwards. Harry dashed to her and caught her before she fainted into the cauldron of soul-destroying potion. He pulled off her plastic face mask and lowered her gently to the floor a safe distance from the pot of poison.
She leaned against Harry and shuddered as he held her.
“That…little… beast…” she gasped. “Everything… went green… for a moment.”
“Take it easy, rest,” Harry said. “He’s gone now.”
He held her for a few minutes while she caught her breath.
“The Cruciatus curse… hurt a lot,” she said dispassionately, “but not as much as I thought it would. I could hold my wand. I could still think… and talk. That little ghost was weak.”
“I thought that poison would destroy the soul fragment faster than that,” Harry said.
“I’ve got an idea… for next time,” Hermione said breathing heavily, “to protect us, when we say the incantation.”
“What’s the plan?” Harry asked.
“When the little ghosty starts to appear in the Cauldron,” she explained. “We run away.”
Harry helped Hermione into an overstuffed chair. Then he cleaned up the cauldron of poison with a very carefully cast Evanesco spell.
Later, as they sat in Harry’s kitchen drinking tea, Hermione joked about the incident. “I am Lord Voldemort and I am invincible!” she said in a deep spooky voice. “Now rescue my Horcrux and let me possess you,” she added in a squeaky voice that made Harry laugh. “Be quick about it or I might cast some weak spell on you before I vanish.”
“A toast to our success,” Harry said holding up his cup of tea. “I wonder if Ron and Ginny did as well today as we did.”
“If only one of them got onto a team, I’ll bet it was Ginny,” Hermione said.
“Oh that’s a sucker’s bet,” Harry said.
Early on the following morning Harry apparated to the Burrow to help with the final preparations for that afternoon’s wedding. He was dressed for work in jeans a T-shirt and trainers, his nice dress robes and good shoes were in a bag that was slung over his shoulder.
“Oh great you’re here!” Ron said in relief. “Toss your dress clothes in my room and meet me in the garden, we’ve got work to do!”
A few minutes later Harry met his friend in the yard beside the house. Ron had an arm full of sickles (not the money-type of sickles, but the tool with the curved blade with the short handle).
“Mom’s mad as a wet cat,” Ron said. “We’ve got to get the grass mowed quick!”
The yard did look rather wild. Harry guessed it had been several weeks since the grass had been cut.
“Too busy practicing Quidditch to cut the grass, hey?” Harry asked.
“Not that it did any good,” Ron said morosely, “except for Ginny.”
Harry and Ron set about trying to enchant the sickles to fly through the tall grass in sweeping arcs.
“What are you two up to?” Hermione asked as she came out of the house. Her hair was tied back and she was dressed for work in jogging shorts and a tight T-shirt that didn’t quite cover her navel.
“We’ve got to mow the grass, and we’ve got to hurry!” Ron explained.
“It’s a jungle out here Ron,” Hermione observed. “Is there any special reason for waiting until the last minute before starting to get the yard in order?”
“Just help us enchant these sickles,” Ron demanded.
“Oh, they’re not even sharp!” Hermione complained. “Boys!” she said in disgust. She then dissapparated with a loud cracking noise.
“What’s with her?” Ron asked, as he resorted to hacking at the grass by hand.
A few minutes later there was another very loud crack of apparition and Hermione appeared sitting on a large gasoline-powered Muggle lawn mower.
“This thing is three times as large as anything Daddy needs to take care of our lot, but boys do have to have their toys,” Hermione said sarcastically. “Put away those stupid old sickles,” she told Ron as she hit the electric starter on her father’s tractor. With a wave of her wand she sent the mower off around the paddock carefully enchanted so it would guide itself safely. “And bring some rakes!” she yelled at Ron as he carried the sickles back to their old barn.
“Nice mower,” Harry said.
“It’s now an illegally enchanted Muggle item,” Hermione said. “I hope Mr. Weasley doesn’t arrest me, or steal Daddy’s spark plugs.” Hermione thrust a picture of a chair in front Harry. “Let’s see you conjure a chair that looks exactly like this one,” she said in a bossy tone.
After a couple of tries Harry managed to produce a chair that met the precise specifications of the bride to be.
“That’s adequate,” Hermione pronounced. “You will need to put at least eighty-eight of these on the right side of the aisle and one hundred and seven on the left. I suggest ten rows in a slightly curved arrangement. Make the rows twelve seats wide on the left and ten seats wide on the right,” she said very quickly. “That’ll leave a few extra seats for family members that don’t want to sit right next to each other. But first you had better help Ron rake the grass, it’s almost long enough to bale for hay.”
Then she dashed off mumbling about having to make the pear trees bloom with white flowers and tiny green leaves while the apple trees had to produce bright red fruit and golden yellow leaves when early August was not the normal time of the year for either of those two botanical events. And then there were the flowers and the ribbons and the songbirds, so many things to conjure and the grass wasn’t even mowed yet!
The wedding was a beautiful affair. No one said anything about Bill’s face and Fleur really did look stunning. (Ginny and Hermione both looked very pretty too.) Getting married must have made Fleur very happy indeed, for she was almost polite. She even thanked Hermione for the songbirds that serenaded them during the ceremony.
After the ceremony and the photographs and the tossing of the bouquet (caught by Luna Lovegood, of all people) and the cocktails, and the wedding cake and the opening of the presents, the caterers finally announced they were ready to serve dinner.
Harry sat with Ron and Hermione and eagerly dove into his plate of food. He and Ron had missed lunch because they had to rake the yard before they could begin conjuring the chairs and that job took longer than it should have. Some of Ron’s chairs didn’t quite measure up to specifications and had to be vanished. The errors were small: wrong color, three legs, no seat, that sort of thing. It was as if Ron’s self confidence had taken a bit of a blow. He was in a funk because he had to decide about his future, and that future did not include playing professional Quidditch.
The Lovegoods were seated at Harry’s table and Luna’s father was thrilled to meet Harry in person. He asked Harry a lot of questions about You-Know-Who. The sixth seat at Harry’s table was occupied by Gabriel Delecour. She had managed to convince Ginny to swap seats with her. Ginny was still angry at Harry and had suddenly become very popular with all of the males present, especially a tall pale French fellow who was one of Fleur’s cousins.
“Pierre eez happy,” Gabriel observed. “He likes Bill’s seester, maybe.”
(Ginny had been taken by the Holyfield Harpies as back-up seeker and chaser, which meant she would probably see a lot more broom time than the average rookie. Harry had a hard time keeping his mind off of the image of Ginny in a Harpies uniform. When he did allow himself to think about Ginny in that skimpy uniform, he had a hard time in a distinctly different and potentially embarrassing way.)
After dinner, a band began playing and couples got up to dance. Much to Gabriel’s disappointment, Harry pleaded that he didn’t know how to dance. Ron asked Hermione to dance but she seemed more interested in talking to Mr. Lovegood, who seemed genuinely excited to learn that Tom Riddle’s father had been a Muggle. Ron ended up dancing with Luna Lovegood. Harry wondered if he was doing it to make Hermione jealous, but she seemed oblivious. Harry felt a twinge of jealousy when he saw Ginny dancing with the French fellow, but at the same time he felt a bit of relief. He knew that breaking up with her and not inviting her to join the Order of the Phoenix had hurt her feelings, but he didn’t want her to be in danger. She was a strong girl, she’d get over it. Of course she might be dancing with that fellow to make him jealous, and it did make Harry a bit jealous. But if that was her motive, it meant she was a fighter. Harry didn’t want Ginny getting all depressed and loosing her magical powers like Tonks almost did when Remus was rejecting her, but he figured that was very unlikely to happen to Ginny.
The band started playing a newer piece that was made popular by the Weird Sisters and some of the older couples moved back to their seats. Harry excused himself to get another helping of one of the excellent desserts brought in by the French caterers. He was intercepted on his way back to the table by Ron’s least favorite brother.
“It seems you’re not into dancing,” Percy said.
“No, I’m not,” Harry said coldly.
“There’s a fellow who wants to talk to you. Will you come with me?” Percy asked.
“Is this official business? Did Mr. Scrimgeour tell you to talk to me at the wedding?” Harry asked bitterly.
“Yes and yes,” Percy answered. “And it’s quite serious business at that.”
Harry looked around the crowd at the banquet. There were several wizards from the Ministry of Magic there but Mr. Scrimgeour was not one of them.
“I don’t see Mr. Scrimgeour,” Harry observed.
“He was unable to attend. Of late, he’s been a very busy man,” Percy explained. “He sent a note expressing his regrets and a nice wedding present.”
“Who is it that wants to talk to me?” Harry asked with a sigh.
“Stan Shunpike,” Percy answered quietly. “Will you come with me, to Azkaban?”
Harry stared at Percy in surprise, but Percy seemed perfectly calm and cool.
“You can bring along someone you trust,” Percy offered, looking over at Ron.
Harry thought that bringing Ron might not be such a good idea. Ron and Percy were still on unfriendly terms and interrogating prisoners could be tricky business. His eyes found Hermione. She was attempting to talk to Gabrielle in French and both girls were giggling.
“Three years ago, the day before the World Quidditch cup match, I came to the Burrow,” Harry began. “You didn’t want us making noise because you were working on a report. What was the report about?”
“Harry, I’ve done a lot of paperwork in the last three years!” Percy said in dismay.
“You want me to go apparating with you to a place I’ve never been!” Harry said. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“Alright, fair enough,” Percy said. “At that time, I was working for Mr. Crouch in International Relations,” Percy said thoughtfully. “I took care of Trade Issues while he took care of Quidditch Cup issues. Cauldron imports! I had to contrive an excuse to ban imported cauldrons. It was to protect a local manufacturer from competition. He had been generous to Mr. Fudge’s political campaign fund.”
Percy’s frankness surprised Harry.
“Alright, I’ll go with you,” Harry said. “We’re bringing Hermione along.”
Harry walked over to Hermione, put his hand on her shoulder and gently led her away.
“Where are we going,” Hermione whispered in his ear.
Harry looked around at the crowd. Ginny was dancing with the French fellow. Ron was dancing, sort of, with Luna Lovegood. No one seemed to be paying any attention to him and Hermione. He whispered to her, “Azkaban.”
She followed him without hesitation. They met up with Percy and the three of them slipped away from the crowd. They dissapparated from the shadows of the old broom shed and were soon walking down the grim stone corridors of the wizard’s prison.
“The deal was I’d talk to ‘arry Potter, an’ no one else,” Shunpike said defiantly.
“You’ll talk in front of her or we’ll leave,” Harry insisted bluntly.
Shunpike looked unhappy, but he sat down at the table and glared at the guard in silence.
Harry sat down at the table across from Shunpike keeping his wand firmly in his hand. Hermione joined Harry at the table and made rather a show of letting her hair down. She slyly tucked her wand into her gown between her breasts. It was positively magical how sticking her wand into the tight gown left no lumps or bumps to spoil the natural curves of her slender figure. She then took a long roll of parchment and a large fancy quill out of her small clutch-purse. When she was settled into the role of a dutiful secretary she smiled at Harry. The guard walked out of the room and locked the door behind him.
Shunpike frowned and said nothing as he looked at Hermione’s quill and parchment.
“I left a party to come here,” Harry said. “What did you want to say to me?”
“The Minister of Magic, Mr. Scrimgeour hisself, talked to me he did” Shunpike began. “He said that you was on my side. He said that he was on your side. He said that if I helped you he might let me go.”
“How are you going to help me, Stan?” Harry asked skeptically.
“I ain’t no Death Eater Harry,” Stan pleaded. “I was just talkin’ big an’ they locked me up with ‘em.”
“How do I know you’re not really a Death Eater?” Harry asked.
“I got valuable information,” Shunpike said in a hushed tone. “The screws ’ave been movin’ me about, from cell to cell. I’ve been with ‘em all… Travers, Jurgson, Dolohov, Malfoy… all of ‘em. They talked to me they did. You get me outta here, an’ I’ll tell you their secrets.”
“You give me the information first,” Harry said. “If it’s useful, then I’ll speak to Mr. Scrimgeour on your behalf.”
There was a moment of silence while Shunpike considered his options.
“Word has it… that you’re goin’ up agin… You-Know-Who,” Stan whispered.
“Yeah,” Harry whispered back.
“He’s got a secret weapon,” Stan said knowingly. “It’s hidden in a cemetery.”
“What sort of secret weapon?” Harry asked.
“It makes ‘im immortal,” Stan said in a conspiratorial tone. “It’s called a whore crosser.”
AUTHOR’S NOTES
There is a double meaning to the title of Chapter 11: Hermione’s Helping Hand.
Hermione lends a hand by helping Ron beat Cormic McLaggen for a spot on the Quidditch team, but she also shows her hand. Like a poker player revealing her cards, Hermione reveals her feelings towards Harry and Ron in this chapter (page 219). Harry is “…frankly… fanciable.” She goes on to list the reasons why Harry is so attractive. Hermione’s an expert on the issue because she fancies Harry. The temperature in the room began to rise because Harry got the message. Ron gags on his food, gets a look of disdain and is then ignored. When Hermione points out that Harry is tall, Ron butts in with, “I’m tall too”. Harry is getting attention from Hermione. Ron is clearly jealous. Harry is uncomfortable with that situation.