Chapter 03
Ginny fumed, pacing back and forth in the tiny room she shared with Hermione. She ranted about boys--Harry mostly--and how thickheaded and stubborn they were. Hermione murmured pityingly, knowing exactly how her friend felt.
Why are boys such clods, each wanted to know when they had relayed their tales of the afternoon’s disasters; when no plausible answer readily came, Ginny grumbled further about losing her temper and needing to restrain herself in the future.
It was then that Fred and George barged in, Extendable Ears in hand and each with their own advice : “Perhaps you should spend the remainder of the summer in your room.” “Give me your wand; I’ll make sure you won’t use it on anyone for the next few weeks.
Ginny and Hermione had shouted at them, incensed, each brandishing their wands and spouting off hexes. The twins Disapparated immediately, the girls’ hexes bouncing off Ginny’s bedroom wall.
Mrs. Weasley announced at dinner that the group would indeed be going to the fair after the meal, so she kept the fare light--sandwiches and butterbeer, much to Fleur’s dismay. When she grumbled about the meal, Ginny told Fleur--in a falsely sweet tone--that she could go a few miles up the lane to the Muggle village and use her Veela charms to get dinner. Fleur huffed angrily, but bit into a roast beef sandwich.
Harry was stone-faced throughout most meal, refusing, at first, to touch anything Mrs. Weasley set in front of him. He formulated a plan: once everyone arrived at the fair, he’d sneak off--using his hidden Invisibility Cloak, of course--and begin the search for Snape. Harry was certain that the hook-nosed wizard would lead him straight to Voldemort.
I’d be killing two birds with one stone, Harry thought to himself, recalling one of Uncle Vernon’s favorite sayings. Or, would two birds be killing me with one stone? He shook off this last thought; it would do him no good to doubt himself now. He took a few bites of his sandwich and washed it down with a swig of butterbeer; Harry knew he’d need something in him to quiet his rumbling stomach and keep him feeling energized--and able to ignore the gnawing in his chest that indicated he was quite unsure of what he was attempting to do.
When the plates cleared themselves, everyone rose and stretched happily, chatting noisily about the events that lay ahead of them. It made Mrs. Weasley smile, for recent tragic events had taken their toll on her family. She was extremely saddened by the loss of Albus Dumbledore, but Molly Weasley knew that the recently deceased Hogwarts Headmaster would want them to continue their lives as usual--taking extra precautions, of course. She had no doubt that Albus Dumbledore would have enjoyed going to a fair, had he still been alive.
So up the lane to the village the Weasleys (minus Percy, who’d decided to stay late at the Ministry to take care of ‘high-priority matters’), Hermione and Harry went. As they drew closer, they could hear the faint sounds of music, happy cries of Muggles, and hawkers attempting to draw people in to play games or buy their wares. The group caught wisps of sweet dough scents floating on the breeze, and Fred and George began counting their money, hoping they had enough of the Muggle bills to buy their heart’s desire.
Once the group topped the hill, they paused momentarily to take in the sights and sounds that lay below. Even Fleur was awestruck, “I have never zeen such a display! Ze lights are gorgeous!”
It was true; the spinning, whirling, and blinking multicolored lights on the rides, the game and food stalls, and on the fence surrounding the fair seemed to come straight from an item in the twins joke shop. Harry noted that the twins were taking in the scene before them, rubbing their hands gleefully, probably pondering how this fair would figure heavily into their next joke shop item.
“Amazing, those Muggles and their electric--aren’t they?” Charlie breathed, a grin spreading across his features. “I wonder how they get the lights to do that?”
Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Arthur Weasley began speaking, taking this time to give the group a warning. “I think it’s in our best interest if we stayed together, but realistically, I know that won’t happen. So I offer three very important pieces of advice: don’t attract attention to yourselves, do not use your wand for any reason, and, lastly, don’t let anyone know you’re not a Muggle--and that includes you,” Mr. Weasley inclined his head towards Hermione, who bit her lip to keep from smiling.
“I think three hours is enough time for all of us to have some fun,” Mrs. Weasley interjected, smiling at the group. “Why don’t we meet back here at that time, so we can go back to the Burrow together?” When all heads nodded in agreement, Molly shooed them on, linking her arm with her husband’s as the couple began strolling down the hill in a leisurely fashion.
Everyone else, including the normally haughty Fleur, ran straight down, some tumbling and colliding with others in their haste, whooping and hollering excitedly, their cries mingling with the joyous shouts emanating from the fair.
Except Harry.
He held back, watching Mr. and Mrs. Weasley move towards the fair. When Harry felt certain they were far enough away, he pulled his Invisibility Cloak out from the backpack he carried, unfurled it, then threw it over himself. He thought to leave his backpack behind, but decided that if any of the Weasleys stumbled upon it, they’d alert the proper authorities and Harry would be discovered for certain.
He turned on his heel and started down the hill from which he came; he would find Snape and kill him as he killed Albus Dumbledore. But, a tiny voice at the back of his mind asked, will your heart be in it? Murdering someone was not like discussing the weather, he knew. Harry sighed heavily and turned away, desperately trying to ignore his conscience.
“Harry!” A forceful feminine voice halted Harry in his tracks. Harry turned to see Hermione standing in the very spot he’d just vacated.
“I know you are there and can hear me, so please just listen,” Hermione began hastily. “I know you want to find Snape, and honestly I don’t blame you. But please, Harry, just come to the fair with us tonight. I’ll--I’ll help you look for Snape tomorrow.” Hermione added hurriedly, knowing she was taking a big risk by saying such a thing, but she wanted only to know where Harry was at the moment.
It worked. “Are you serious?” Harry asked warily, whipping the cloak away from his head. To a Muggle, Harry would have looked quite spooky, but to Hermione, it was a relief to see that he wasn’t too far away.
“How did you know I was going to sneak away?” Harry asked warily, his body tensed and ready to run.
“Does it matter, Harry?” Hermione replied, folding her arms together. When Harry grunted skeptically, Hermione sighed and added, “If you must know, I saw you slip your cloak in to your backpack before we left.”
“Why didn’t you say something then? Why not alert the Weasleys? Not very well done of you, Hermione.”
Hermione scowled at him. “I had hoped that th--I was mistaken, but it seems I was wrong. Do you want to know why I’ve stopped you?”
“Besides the obvious?” Harry’s reply borderd on sarcasm.
“Have you thought about those who care about you? Ron, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, me... Ginny?” Hermione asked quietly. “Why would you risk your life because of Professor Snape? Professor Dumbledore wouldn’t have appreciated saving you only to have you run off to be killed weeks later!”
“I don’t know--and I don’t bloody care anymore, Hermione!” Harry realized he sounded childish, but cared little; he knew Hermione was trying to stall him; Harry wanted nothing more than to move on at that moment; between Hermione and his conscience, he was beginning to have doubts.
“What’s gotten into you, Harry? Why are you acting so... so--?” Hermione paused, searching for the right words.
“Insensitive? Rude? Devious? Like a clod? Shall I go on?” Harry interjected moodily.
Hermione stood her ground. “What’s come over you, Harry? You haven’t been yourself as of late, and I’d like to know why! What else happened that night? Did someone hex you, causing you to turn into a vengeful old man bent on destroying everything in your path?"
Harry opened his mouth to retort, but snapped it shut. She’s right, a little voice in the back of his mind told him. Just look at yourself; you’re becoming like the very man you’re looking for--bitter, angry, and cruel.
Hermione’s eyes widened as she witnessed the change in Harry. His scowl melted away and his face went from red to milky white. Hermione stepped forward, reaching out a hand in an attempt to grasp her friend should he suddenly lose consciousness.
Harry stood frozen in place, his head floating in midair. A myriad of emotions flooded him--anger, sadness, pain, relief, despair, hope and other feelings he didn't want to name--and suddenly he felt like crying.
Suddenly, he whipped the cloak away from his body and stuffed it into his bag. “I hope I don’t regret doing this,” he muttered, slinging the pack over his shoulder and brushing past Hermione to make his way down the hill.
“Harry,” Hermione called tentatively, wringing her hands, “are you all right?” She worried she might have caused him to be angry with her!
Harry stopped in his tracks. “I’m... fine, Hermione; Reality seems to have caught up with me--and it was quite nasty. Let’s go to the fair before I change my mind. Oh," he added as an afterthought, "I won’t hold you to your promise, so you can quit worrying about that.” He turned and trotted away, his bag thumping against him as he went.
Hermione didn’t want to ruin the moment with more words, so she hurried along behind her friend. She was thankful that Fred and George had told her about Harry packing his cloak; the twins, ironically, wanted Harry to spend more time with their sister and less time looking for ‘that greasy git’ Snape.
“If anyone can talk Harry out of doing the wrong thing,” Fred had told her, “it’s you.”
I may have talked Harry out of doing anything foolish for the moment, Hermione thought to herself as she caught up with Harry, but how long will take before Harry finds himself in trouble?