The Lewis House 68 страница

Hermione sputtered. “Ron! I never!”

“You never? You can look me in the eye and say that?”

Hermione broke eye contact and turned her pink face to the fire.

“Aha! I knew you were one of the forty, or fifty-five, or whatever it was. I knew it. I knew you were all over him –”

“So what! I was a little girl and he was handsome! I know better now, I wouldn’t go near him and of course I don’t send him cards! Honestly! I can’t make one tiny mistake? What was I supposed to think of him – he wrote all those books, and I didn’t realize people just lied like that–”

“Bet you still have his signature stored away someplace.”

“I do not!”

“Look me in the eye and say that.”

Hermione looked him dead in the eye. “Ron, I most certainly do not have any such thing. I know what you think of me, but I was wrong about him and it’s years since all that, so just leave me alone.”

Ron sighed happily. “You were wrong, were you?” he repeated, for good measure. Harry moved his wand a bit closer.

“Yes,” Hermione replied crossly. “Now go away.” She unwrapped the second Cauldron Cake, put it to her mouth and took a very big bite.

Harry looked at Ron. “That good? Want me to cut it off?”

“No – are you cracked? Leave it going.”

Hermione swallowed. “What are you both talking about?”

“Nothing,” said Harry at once, lowering his wand again slightly.

She pouted up at Ron. “Are you having secret conversations?”

“Well.... yeah,” said Ron, seeing his chance. “It’s just that Harry’s been wondering something.” Ron nodded at Harry over the back of the couch. “He’s too shy to ask you, of course, but I’m sure you know the answer – which of the girls in school had mad crushes on him?”

“You absolute prat,” Harry muttered, yanking a cushion from behind him and pelting Ron with it at once. But Ron didn’t mind – he could see that Harry was smiling, and that was what mattered. Also, Harry was looking rather interested in Hermione’s response to the question. He was trying not to show it, but he’d definitely leaned in a bit, in order to listen.

For her part, Hermione sighed. “Well of course I know the answer to that,” she said, importantly. She raised her hands a little and began to tick off on her fingers. “There was Parvati, of course.”

“That's not true – ” Harry began. But Hermione waved her hand at him impatiently.

“And what would you know about it? She did, for a little while. And then there was that Gryffindor a year ahead of us, Eleni Roil. But you don’t want her, Harry. She snores. And then there was that girl from the other house, oh, which one was she – she was very nice. Sally-Anne Perks. Yes, she used to secretly cheer for Gryffindor during the Quidditch matches, that’s what Lisa Turpin told Lavender.”

“Hermione...” Harry said slowly, now looking a bit stunned, “I didn’t know you ever even talked to Lavender.”

“I hardly ever did about things like that, but you couldn’t live in a room with Lavender and Parvati for seven years, without hearing about a few things. So that’s what, three so far? And then there were two –”

“There were more?”

“If you’d kindly stop talking? There were at least two other ones – and one was three years behind us.”

Harry’s mouth fell open. “A fourth year? Oh shut up, you’re joking.”

“I’m not.” Hermione giggled. “Anyway, what’s wrong with that? I was in fourth year when I went to the ball with Viktor Krum, and he was your age.” She shut her eyes and sighed.

“Well that’s just sick,” Ron muttered resentfully. He had never fully forgiven Viktor Krum.

Hermione’s eyes snapped open and she looked up at him.

“Well maybe if you hadn’t been such a git, I’d have gone with you, and not gone off with Viktor to try and make you jealous!” she cried, making an effort to stamp her foot and kicking Harry in the process.

“Ow, Hermione –”

But Ron didn’t care who she kicked. “Shut your eyes a second, mate,” he said to Harry. And when Harry had done so, Ron bent down and kissed Hermione fully on the mouth. A few moments passed in silence.

“All right. You can open ‘em.”

Harry did so, hiking his wand up behind the couch in order to catch what Hermione said next.

“Oh... Ron.” Her eyes were still shut. “You know, there were girls who had crushes on you, too,” she breathed. “Three that I knew of, but I was never going to tell you.”

Harry sniggered a little, but Ron ignored him. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” he asked in surprise. He’d had no idea any girls had harbored crushes on him.

“You’d get a horrible, great big head.”

Now Harry snorted openly. Ron glared at him.

“Well, now that school’s finished, you can tell me. Who were they, then?” he demanded.

Hermione smiled deliciously. “Padma.”

Ron gaped. “No she didn’t!”

“Yes she did, for a bit. You two –” she pointed up at Ron with one hand and over at Harry with the other – “had twins after you. I used to think it was so fitting, because you were a couple of matching idiots and I thought it really ought to show.”

“Well thanks,” said Harry dryly.

“Ginny and I thought it was so funny."

"Ginny knew?" Ron and Harry asked at once.

Hermione snorted. "Tuh. She knew all this stuff. Oh, right! Harry -" Hermione tapped Harry's chest with her foot.

He caught her foot and pushed it away. "Would you stop kicking me? What?"

"I forgot to put Ginny on your list. But then that wasn't a crush." Hermione sighed. "She always loved you to pieces."

Harry turned his face so that Ron couldn't see it, but the back of Harry's neck turned bright red, and Ron wondered briefly just how far it had gone between those two. He'd never ask. But really, Silent Bedchamber Charms... Ron narrowed his eyes at Harry's glowing neck and a very clear mental image leapt into his brain. He shuddered. Sick. But his best friend wouldn't - not with his sister - he knew they fancied each other and all but Ginny hadn't even left school yet and surely they weren't - because it just wasn't natural -

"And then there was the Ravenclaw girl who liked you, Ron," Hermione went on, snapping Ron out of it. "The one who used to tell Lavender everything about everyone – Lisa Turpin. She used to ask Lavender to find things out about you, and then Lavender used to ask me for information, and I’d pass things along to Lisa the way I saw fit.”

“Like what?!” Ron was truly astonished.

Hermione considered. “Like... ‘Oh, Hermione, what’s Ron’s favorite color, by the way?’ Because Lisa would want to try and wear it, you see.”

“What did you say?”

Hermione snickered. “I said it was maroon.”

She and Harry went into gales of laughter together, and Ron had to admit it was pretty funny. Hermione, tricking out other girls. Rather flattering, really. “And who was the other one – the third one?”

“Well, I shouldn't really tell you that,” said Hermione, sounding a little worried.

“No?”

“You’ll run off and find her.”

Ron laughed, gently this time. “No.”

“Well, then it was Eloise Midgen. But too late now, Ron, she’s hardly a troll and she’s got a boyfriend!” Hermione found this extremely amusing, and caught a serious fit of the giggles. Ron had no idea what she was on about, but it must’ve been very funny because Hermione could barely breathe for several minutes. She hung on to Ron’s arm, shaking with laughter.

“Right,” Ron finally said, trying to rein her back in. “You still with us, or do we have to cart you off to the loony bin?”

“I’m here,” she gasped. But her giggles were rapidly dwindling. “Oh,” she groaned suddenly. “Oh my goodness, it’s terrible, when I shut my eyes everything keeps on moving...” Hermione made a horrible face, and contracted into a ball. She turned on her side and buried her face in Ron’s shirt.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly. “Hermione?”

“I’m going to be sick. Help me.”

“Finite Incantatem,” Harry muttered, quitting their recording, and putting his wand in his belt. “Can’t you do a Sobering Charm?”

“No – it would make her sober, but she’d still be sick, and then she’d be angry as well. She’s better off like this.”

“I’ll get water.”

“Thanks.”

"No, I'll get -" Harry jumped up. "I'll get Ginny." He Disapparated.

Ron hardly had time to sort out what Harry was doing before Harry reappeared. Ginny tumbled out of their fireplace a second later, wearing a nightdress and looking very sleepy. "Ron, what did you do?" she demanded groggily, coming to the sofa and holding out her hands. "Oh, Hermione - poor thing! Harry, water."

Harry Summoned a glassful. Ron pulled Hermione up and cradled her so that she could drink, but she didn't take much before curling into a ball again. She shook her head fiercely. “Oooh, no, I can’t, I can’t... I just want to go to sleep but if I shut my eyes...” she shut her eyes and her forehead creased. “It goes round and round...” She whimpered.

“Yeah, it’s the spins, Hermione.” Ron Summoned Hermione’s cloak from the floor and tucked it around her. “You’ll be okay, it happens to everybody. Just hang on –” He hefted her into his arms and staggered to his feet.

“You could just float her,” Harry suggested. “Want me to make a stretcher?”

"Don't you dare take her up the street!" Ginny snapped. She pointed to their hallway. "Take her to the toilet right now, she's going to be sick, there's nothing I can do about that and I shouldn't. Whatever she drank, it needs to come up."

"Oh, that's really nice," Ron muttered, but he carried Hermione into the toilet with Ginny at his back. "Should I put her -"

"Just help her kneel."

"Hermione? I'm going to put you down," Ron warned.

Hermione didn’t answer, her face still pressed against Ron’s chest and she gripped his shirtfront with both hands. Ron began to lower her, but Hermione shrieked loudly and refused to let go of him.

"Don’t put me down, I’ll be sick – don’t put me down – ”

"For God's sake, Ron." Ginny pushed her way around them in the tiny toilet and put one hand on Hermione's stomach and one on her head. Ron had no idea what she was doing, but it seemed to work, Hermione went slack.

“I can’t believe you,” Ginny muttered furiously at him, and Ron was struck anew by how much Ginny reminded him of their mum. “She never would have drunk this much on her own. Put her down and get out, I'll look after her.”

Ron helped Hermione to her knees by the toilet, but lingered in the doorway, not wanting to leave her.

Hermione gasped suddenly and retched.

"Shh, it's all right." Ginny held her hair and rubbed her back. "Get out, Ron!" she hissed. "You did this, the least you can do is let her have some privacy!"

“It was her decision!” Ron retorted hotly, for once not seeing the joke. “I’ve got witnesses on that – go down and ask Goldie – I tried to stop her.”

“Witnesses," Ginny said angrily. "Like it's one of your cases. Go away." She raised a hand and, without her wand, made the door fly shut in Ron's face.

Ron returned to the living room, chagrined, and dropped onto the sofa. Harry sat at the other end, looking almost amused. "It's not funny," Ron pointed out.

Harry glanced at him. "All right. Chess?"

"While she's chundering? Oh yeah, that'd be really sensitive."

Harry's mouth twitched violently. "Erm, okay… Cannons?"

"What?"

"Cannons match is on, they're playing Puddlemere. I was listening to it when you got here. Turned it off when I heard people on the porch."

Ron had completely forgotten that there was a game. He had intended to go, but Hermione had shown up in Diagon Alley and he hadn't thought about it since. Obsession and guilt now fought for first place in his heart. "What was the score?"

"A hundred to a hundred and ten, Puddlemere in the lead."

"Christ!"

"Yeah."

"Well turn it on! But low," Ron added quickly. "Keep it low."

*

An hour later, the Cannons had beat Puddlemere by ten beautiful points, and Hermione lay passed out in Ron's bed. Ginny flopped between him and Harry on the sofa and shut her eyes. "I'm so tired," she yawned. "Thanks a lot, Ron."

"I'm telling you it was her idea," Ron insisted. "I told her to stop."

"Right." She sighed. "Well, there's not much Empathic magic can do for alcohol poisoning, apparently."

"Poisoning?" Ron repeated anxiously. "Does she need the hospital?"

"No." Ginny sighed. "She's fine now - how could you let her drink beer before shots? Beer before liquor, never sicker," she recited, and rubbed her temples. Ron watched Harry's hand move towards her back, but Ginny shook her head. "No don't, I'm all open."

Harry withdrew his hand and looked away. His neck was red again.

"Beer before liquor," Ron said curiously. "What's that? Where'd you learn that?"

Ginny looked at him in obvious surprise. "From Charlie," she said. "Didn't he teach you?"

Ron shook his head.

"And you never learned it at the Snout's Fair?" She shook her head as though she couldn't believe such incompetence. "Beer before liquor, never sicker. Liquor before beer, never fear."

"When did Charlie teach you that?"

Ginny laughed. "Oh you know. I was six, and he told me it was a poem he'd learned at school and that I should recite it for Dad once he and Bill had gone back to Hogwarts." She snickered. "I did it, too. I had no idea what I was talking about, but I'll never forget Dad's face." She yawned again. "I really needed my sleep tonight," she said, and shut her eyes. "Tomorrow's going to be…" she trailed off. "I need to go home."

"D'you have exams tomorrow or something?" Harry asked, looking concerned. "Need help studying?"

Ron rolled his eyes. Harry was whipped.

"No…" Ginny paused and opened her eyes. She glanced first at Harry, then at Ron, and then fixed her gaze on the fire. "Actually I might as well tell you both now, so that you're not surprised tomorrow."

Harry straightened up and Ron tensed. He didn't like the warning in her tone.

"What?" Harry asked.

Ginny pursed her lips. "I wrote to the Secretary Privy," she said slowly. "And I've had a letter back today."

Ron and Harry exchanged worried glances. This was about Azkaban and the dragons - Ginny hadn't mentioned it since Christmas, and Ron had assumed that their dad had made it impossible for her to pursue anything like that. He knew that Harry had counted on her not being allowed.

"And?" Harry demanded.

Ginny shot him an annoyed look. "And I've been invited to go up and have a look at the dragons tomorrow," she said. "So I'll see you at work."

"What?" Harry stared at her.

"I said," Ginny repeated in a clipped voice, looking back at the fire, "that I'll see you at work tomorrow, Harry."

Harry gaped.

"Dad'll never let you," Ron said flatly. "No matter what Privy Brown says. You'll go up there and he'll send you right back down."

Harry nodded violently.

"Actually, the letter came from Dad." Ginny smiled. "From the Office of the Minister of Magic. So it's official."

"Don't do it," Harry said. Ginny turned and glared at him, but Harry repeated himself. "Please don't, Ginny."

"You thought of me right away to help Hermione," Ginny said. "You didn't have any problems dragging me out of bed for that one."

"Hermione's not about to breathe fire at you and take your head off," Harry shot back.

Ron opened his mouth to suggest that that wasn't necessarily true, but Ginny was speaking again.

"You just don't want me hurt," she said. "I know that, and that's why I'm not really, really angry right now." But she sounded angry. She clenched her fists and her color rose.

"Look, you don't understand what it's like," Harry began.

"Well, I will tomorrow, won't I?" Ginny stood. "I'm going to go and get some sleep." She grabbed powder from the little clay pot on the mantelpiece and walked into the fireplace. "Thanks so much for the support, Harry - oh, and you're welcome for the help, Ron. Hope you both enjoyed your Quidditch."

"Ginny -" they both said at once.

"Lupin Lodge!" she interrupted. In a flash of green fire, she was gone. There was a short silence.

"You're in trouble," Ron said helpfully.

Harry glowered at him. "Yes, I noticed." He looked back at the fireplace. "Ginny wrote a Howler when I took this job," he nearly snarled. "She's allowed to worry. She's allowed to say 'No Harry, that's too dangerous, you can't do that!'" Harry's voice returned to its regular octave. "But when I say the same thing, I'm unsupportive. What's that about?"

Ron nodded. He knew exactly how Harry felt. "Oh, they're always allowed to do whatever they like," he said, reaching out to clap Harry on the shoulder. "They're always right, as well."

Harry breathed hard through his nose. "I'm just trying to tell her it's suicide."

"And I was just trying to tell Hermione that the Liquid Curse was too strong for her. Look where it got me."

"It got Hermione sick," Harry said. "And now Ginny wants to go and get herself torched alive, those dragons are mad, she's being really stupid -" he stopped and glanced at Ron. "Not that she's stupid," he said quickly.

Ron waved a dismissive hand. "Sure she is. So's Hermione. All those N.E.W.T.s and not a brain in her bloody head, I swear."

"It's ridiculous."

"It's pathetic."

"They're - she's -" Harry fell back onto the cushions.

"They're mental, Harry. Lunatics. And they can't help it, poor things." Ron sighed. "That was a brilliant match though, wasn't it?"

"I know, we should have been there for that one."

"Oliver must be coming out of his skin, playing his old team and winning."

"And they're still undefeated." Harry shook his head. "It's really something - you know, I bet they're still doing post match commentary and replays. Turn it back on."

Ron flicked his wand at the wireless. The two of them sat up half the night hashing through Quidditch plays and shouting about fouls - and reminding each other every so often that they had to keep it down or suffer, because Hermione was still asleep.

Chapter Thirty-One

Toil and Trouble

~*~

A/N: Thanks to B Bennett for watching over the dragons as they were being written,

and thanks to the wonderful beta readers of this chapter:

B Bennett, Cap'n Kathy, Caroline, CoKerry, Firelocks, and Joe.

~*~

Four month-old Percival Leander Weasley did not seem tired in the slightest, a fact that was very inconvenient to his mother. She shook a rattle in front of him and let him grab for it, hoping to tire him out, but he was indefatigable.

Normally, Penelope wouldn't have minded spending hours entertaining her son, but today was special. Hermione Granger had been appointed by the Ministry of Magic to help her work on the Imprisonment Charm that would surround Culparrat. Penelope had reached a dead end with her own research, and she knew from personal experience that Hermione was a brilliant witch - probably more so, now that she had apprenticed with a Thinker. Penelope told herself not to pin all her hopes on Hermione, but she couldn't help believing that a breakthrough was on the horizon.

Her father-in-law had assigned them a tiny office in a corner of the Ministry of Magic's main building. Penelope had spent the entire previous day trying to make it comfortable for two people, but it had been a real challenge. The office had been a mess of books and files left behind by a clerk who was now in Culparrat, awaiting trial. Ron Weasley had taken the files away for research, which had been a big help, and Penelope had gone in search of unoccupied desks and chairs that were small enough to fit into the room together. In the end she had been forced to shrink two desks and push them against the wall so that there would be enough room to accommodate Leo. Molly Weasley had offered to watch her grandson while Penelope was at work, but that orphan, Max, seemed to be more than a handful; and having Leo nearby made Penelope feel as though Percy was still there, somehow helping her to finish the work that they'd started together.

Penelope sent a colorful mobile to float above Leo's head, and then organized all the papers on her desk for the third time that morning. She doubted whether Hermione would be able to make any sense of them without her detailed explanations.

A soft knock at the door caused her to jump; she rushed to open it and found Hermione.

Hermione looked … tired.

"Good morning!" Penelope said, feeling a bit disappointed that Hermione did not seem to be well rested for their first day at work. "Are you all right?"

Smiling, Hermione reached down to tickle Leo's stomach, and nodded.

"I had a bit of an unplanned incident last night at the Snout's Fair," she said, sounding sheepish. "Ginny helped the headache go away, so I feel fine – I just look awful."

"Nonsense," said Penelope, "you just look tired. But we can start slowly, if you like. I've been working on this for over a year. It's not like another day will make a big difference."

Hermione placed her rucksack on the table and sat down in one of the chairs, turning so that she faced the playpen. She reached into her bag and pulled out a quill, but instead of also retrieving paper and ink, she put the quill on the table, shook her head, and muttered something Penelope couldn't hear.

"Sorry?" Penelope said. She flicked her wand at the mobile, and the butterflies in it took turns flittering down to dance on Leo's head. "Hermione, honestly, it's all right if you'd rather wait until tomorrow." She hoped she didn't sound too disappointed. "I can always find something to do, and – "

"No!" said Hermione. "Really, I'm fine." She had her hands crossed, but her fingers were doing little dances around each other. "I'm – I'm a bit nervous, actually. And I'm supposed to be trying not to write things down as much. The quill is a crutch. Delia says I need to let my mind absorb facts as I learn them, and not depend on re-learning them later."

"Wow." Penelope looked askance at her piles of notes. "I'd never really thought about it before. I just always sort of assumed that it helped to take notes." A half-forgotten memory popped into Penelope's head. "One time, though, Percy and I went to hear Horatio York speak in the Ministry's Grand Hall. He's the wizard who helped regulate the Owl Post System. It was a fascinating speech, and I remember almost every word of it. I didn't take notes there!"

Hermione nodded. "That's what you're supposed to do as a Thinker. Take that feeling and just sort of expand on it a little bit. The theory is that if you are listening to something with all of your concentration, then you'll retain more of it in your long-term memory. But it's so difficult for me!" Hermione threw up her hands in frustration. "I used to take notes even when I was reading for pleasure."

"Well, let's just try talking, then. I like that better anyway. I'll see if I can remember how much I've learned, and it'll feel less like work." Hermione seemed to be grateful for the guidance, and smiled.

Closing her eyes, Penelope tried to work out the best place to begin. She and Percy had started planning this over a year ago. So much had happened since then. Initially, they'd been trying to find an alternative to Dementors. What would be relevant to Hermione? Everything? Nothing?

"If you're trying to decide where to start," Hermione said, her voice sounding lower than usual, "it might be best to first try to explain the problem at hand. Don't worry about where it actually started. Think first about where it is now."

"We need a Dementor-free, magic-proof Imprisonment Charm. We need to keep people inside Culparrat in such a way that they will never be able to get out."

"Never?"

"Not unless they're pardoned."

"So, there needs to be a mechanism inside to allow prisoners to exit. And I suppose guards and the like would have to be able to move in and out."

"Yes," said Penelope. "But it's so difficult and I can't get my head around it all. In Muggle prison systems, they're limited. They have layers of deterrence. They've got iron bars, and locks, and guards, and in most cases, alarms and barbed wire. But all it takes to get a prisoner out of the compound is one guard or one official who knows the right codes. If a Muggle murderer escapes from prison, he can do harm in the world, but the implications are not nearly as serious as if a powerful Dark wizard escapes and gets hold of a wand."

Hermione had started to draw circles on the table with her fingers. She caught herself and stopped, placing her hands back in her lap. "Well, what layers do we have?"

"Obviously, we destroy their wands. That's the first order of business. The problem is that magic can be so unpredictable that there have been cases of wizards willing themselves out of prison in the past. There are a few types of wandless magic that can be performed by wizards as well – Animagi transformations, to take the most famous example."

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04