Harry Potter and the Secret Nurse

Chapter Twenty-Five
The Muggle Town of Hogsby

#SHOOM#

Saturday morning, Hermione popped out the floo in Harry’s school office, followed by Harry right after her. A little frustrated, Hermione beat dust off herself.

“Harry, we HAVE to learn how to Apparate,” said Hermione.

“I agree,” said Harry, also beating his clothes and shaking his head, “But do you have to be the one reminded no one can-“

“Apparate onto or off of Hogwarts grounds,” Hermione interrupted, “Of course, but it would help cutting down on flooing all over London.”

“Flooing? That’s neat, I never heard it called that before,” said Harry, “So you’re inventing phrases, now?”

“At least I don’t make up music lyrics in my sleep,” said Hermione.

“What?” asked Harry, “I was singing?”

“That’s what it sounded like.”

“What was I singing?”

Hermione shrugged and went, “No song I ever heard before.”

Harry just pouted and said he had no memories of his dreams from the previous night. All he remembered was it was the first time in a week he slept with his head being held in Hermione’s naked bosom, which suited him for a night of sound sleep just fine even though they had narrowly escaped an explosion from the previous night. They went to the great hall to catch breakfast, but more importantly to catch a copy of The Dailey Prophet dropped into Hermione’s hands from an owl passing over her head. Sure enough, the fate of Mr. Borgin’s store was front cover news.

“We must have missed the Aurors who showed up on the scene by seconds,” said Hermione as she read the paper.

The photo showed Mr. Borgin staggering around the front of his store with his head still bleeding. Occasionally Mr. Borgin would look into the camera, point to the flames and yell something incomprehensible. It was a disturbing sight.

Hermione read the article out loud, “Around 11 pm last night an explosion took place at 17 Knockturn Alley in a pawn shop known as Borgin’s Bewitched Brokerage... says here no one was killed in the blast, thank God.”

“How’s Mr. Borgin?” asked Harry.

“Just says here he was taken to St. Mungos, minor cuts and burns, nothing after that,” said Hermione, “Get a load of this, says here witnesses are NOT co-operating with investigators in assessing damage AND cause.”

“I wouldn’t co-operate either with a basement likely full of contraband and Unforgivables,” said Harry.

“Yeah, we all know what THAT feels like,” said Hermione, “Aurors are making an appeal for any witnesses who can help to come forward.”

Hermione tossed the newspaper onto the table with a slap like she was intentionally making a statement.

“Hermione-“

“Harry!” Hermione interrupted firmly, “I know you think I’m a bit of a ‘Panicky Betty’ when it comes to going to the teachers but we have to tell-“

“I was about to say we should go to Bardwell,” said Harry.

“Really?”

“Yes, but we should do it in a way that is really discrete,” said Harry, “She’s gonna be pissed we didn’t come forward sooner, so we better do it as quick as we can. There’ll be less trouble that way.”

Harry sighed dropped his cereal spoon, not in the mood to eat anything.

“How much trouble do you think we’ll get into?” he asked.

“Getting chucked out of Hogwarts would be pretty extreme,” said Hermione, “But the first weekend we’re allowed to leave Hogwarts and we go creeping around Knockturn Alley to illegally buy sex toys? That’s bound to cost us our weekend leave privileges.”

“Hermione- wait a second,” said Harry, “All we saw were two men in black leave the store before the explosion. Maybe we can just leave an anonymous tip.”

“You’re leaving something out,” said Hermione, “Something that can implicate us as being more directly involved. Patchee Sandeff, she tried to warn us about the store. That way she was behaving, she obviously knew it was going to blow up, how did she know?”

Harry was observing Hermione’s face cautiously and asked, “I know that look, Hermione, what are you getting at?”

Hermione paused for a moment and said, “I say we find out for ourselves.”

Harry kept looking at Hermione as he ate his breakfast. Sometimes he and Ron were the ones who led into reckless adventures of getting into trouble, but Hermione hardly had a spotless record herself. When she was the instigator, Harry suddenly became a lot more wary and was put in the odd and uncomfortable position of being the reluctant one. A hand the size of a catcher’s mitt landed on Harry’s shoulder and made him jump out of his skin.

“Well, you’re a bit skittish today, aren’t ye?” asked Hagrid.

Hagrid was never one for sneaking up on people, especially since he usually blotted out the sun when he got this close to anyone. For a nine foot giant, Hagrid did have the remarkable talent of being light on his feet.

“Sorry, bit distracted this morning,” said Harry.

“Ye must be really distracted if’n ye didn’t see me coming,” said Hagrid, “You lot ‘ave got yer heads too deep in these new responsibilities o’ yers. Why don’t ye’ come down with me to the nearby muggle town fer an outting?”

Harry thought for a moment and said, “I’ve never been there.”

“I’m going,” said Hermione, “I have to pick up the new tire for your bike. Wanna come?”

“Since I’m paying for it, I guess I better,” said Harry.

Hagrid had a very muggle looking horse, hooked up to a very muggle looking cart, and took up the whole front seat as he headed it out from Hogwarts. During the trip Harry and Hermione rode in the back of the cart and got caught up with Hagrid’s life. Grawp was learning how to speak English, and more importantly, how not to beat up on his older brother Hagrid. He was however, still pulling up trees from time to time. Keeping his distance from the centaurs kept him in a relatively safe and benevolent part of the forest.

“How did you get him to learn?” asked Harry.

“Firenze helped me,” said Hagrid, “He’s gone off to live in the same part of the forest. They’ve formed sort of a friendship, they have. Firenze ‘as been loads o’ help keepin’ Grawpy out o’ trouble.”

Hermione suddenly felt a little coy and stood up in the rickety cart and asked, “Heard from Madame Maxim?”

Hagrid smiled and said, “We spent the summer together at her cottage in the south of France.”

“Hagrid! I bet that was wonderful!” said Hermione.

“Well, I think I might ‘ave ruffled a few feathers with her relatives an all,” said Hagrid, “Maxim ‘as a lot of aristocratic blood on her father’s side of the family. That’s the side that’s not giants, by the way. They make wine out where her family lives. I had a little trouble blendin’ in at first. But they sure warm up to ye’ if ye like yer drink, that’s fer sure.”

“I’ll bet it was romantic,” said Hermione as she smiled at Harry.

Harry was trying his best not to laugh.

“She’s coming to visit round Halloween,” said Hagrid, “She’s going to help with yer training to become Aurors and how to combat giants.”

“We’re going to fight giants?” asked Harry.

“Well, no,” said Hagrid, “Most of it is good advice on ‘ow to avoid them. Blind sides, sneaking around them-“

“How to run away?” asked Harry as he looked up.

“Try to turn in circles if you’re running from them,” said Hagrid, “They’re lousy at turnin’ round corners.”

Harry tapped Hermione and said, “We better remember that.”

Hermione remained standing in the cart as it made it’s way down a dirt road. She held onto Hagrid’s shoulders for support, Harry just sat in the back and watched the world go by. He couldn’t see forward past Hagrid but he could see the countryside slowly change as they went. The gravel road became a paved road, and the mountains gave way to hills, which gave way to farms and country homes. A bright grey sky brought a slight precipitation and made the paved road slick and wet.
As Harry faced backwards, he could hear a buzzing sound approaching them. He figured it was a motorcycle, but it had an odd and aggressive high-pitched whine to it. No sooner could he make it out than it passed him by at an almost incomprehensible speed. Both Hagrid and Hermione were startled by it passing by, whipping the air and mist into their faces. The horse was spooked and Hagrid had to yell whoa a few times to calm it down.

“Bloody ‘ell,” Hagrid cried out, “That bloody fast on a wet road? They must be right bleedin’ loopy to go at it like that.”

“Did that come from Hogwarts?” asked Hermione.

“Couldn’t tell,” said Harry.

Hermione stood on her toes while leaning on Hagrid.

“I think I see the town!” said Hermione.

“What’s it called again?” asked Harry.

“Hogsby!” said Hermione as the pointed to a city sign they were passing.

“Hogsby, of course,” said Harry, “Hogwarts, Hogsmead, Hogs Head, hogmanay-“

“Harry!”

“-hogwash-“

“Settle down you lot or I’ll turn right back again,” said Hagrid, “Right, now watch it with the magic round here. I know you’re careful, but since these people are so close to Hogwarts they’ve seen a little more than their fair share of unusual ‘appenings for a very long time. Centuries ye’ might say. So these people are pretty keen to spot anything or anyone unusual. Right suspicious they are.”

Harry wondered how suspicious should these people be towards a horse and cart, driven by a hairy giant, with a beautiful young woman and a cripple riding in the back? Scottish homes of brick started to line each side of the rode and Hagrid had to be weary of traffic coming and going. Hermione started looking around excitedly as they approached the downtown core and she started pointing out stores she’d like to visit.

“Oh Harry, they have a Caledonian’s!” said Hermione.

“More books?” asked Harry.

“Well if you want me to be more like a girl there’s a Flip clothing store,” said Hermione, “I’ll bet Ginny would like a go in there.”

“Don’t give her ideas!” said Harry, “Her mum will yell at us-“

“I’m not giving her ideas!”

Hagrid almost had a tear come to his eye listening to Harry and Hermione bicker on. They were in love, and it made Hagrid so happy he could cry. It reminded him so much of Lily and James when they first started to go out with each other. Back in their day people thought they’d curse each other’s eyes out, but Hagrid knew better. He had an instinct, and when it came to Harry and Hermione he believed in a little over a decade he would be seeing their children at Hogwarts. With grave commitment he would die before letting their love get snuffed out before its time.
Passing a gas station, they came upon and auto dealership and a large motorcycle store. There was a rare Jaguar Vanquish on display up front at the auto dealership, and Harry began to ogle it. He pointed it out to Hermione and asked how fast she thought it was. Hermione shrugged and said she was interested in the two-wheeled type of horsepower and told Harry they had arrived at the motorcycle shop. Hagrid lifted Harry’s wheelchair down like it was an aluminium lawn chair and let Harry climb into it on his own. Parked in front of the shop they saw the bike that rocketed past them earlier.

Hermione looked at it closely and said, “Hey! This is the bike we saw in the Hogwarts’ garage. A Yamaha R1.”

Harry wheeled up to it and saw the mist in the air was causing steam to rise off the engine, still hot.

“Hagrid, do you know who’s bike it is?” asked Harry.

“It’s new, that’s all I now,” said Hagrid.

New, thought Harry, that must mean it belongs to one of the professors, either Gully or Bardwell. Unless a student started riding one, and Harry just couldn’t think of who that could be. Inside, the bike shop sold many different brands of bike both new and used. A salesman noticed Harry coming in and approached him, looking a little wary. He was a young and friendly young man wearing a T-shirt that advertised an upcoming off road motorcycle event. Hermione was quite struck that he was very fit and handsome.

“That’s usually not the kind of two wheels we see in here,” said the salesman to Harry, “I hope you didn’t put down on one of ours?”

“Me?” asked Harry, “Oh, I don’t ride motorcycles.”

The salesman then looked to Hagrid, smiled and pointed saying, “Harley Davidson?”

“I should think not,” said Hagrid.

“You seemed like the type,” said the salesman, “Their frames really aren’t that large. If you want a truly BIG bike, you should check out the Yamaha 1600 over here. It’s one rugged bulldozer of a bike.”

Hagrid was about to wave the young man off, until he saw the bike and was instantly impressed. It was a heavy giant of a machine that seemed to be scaled for someone of his frame. Harry thought with all the fat chrome pipes and round black tank it looked like a two-wheeled stream locomotive. One swing of his massive leg, Hagrid straddled the bike and smiled to see it the suspension handled his weight easily. Hermione was doing a little browsing of her own looking at different kinds of bikes. Of the heavy cruisers and racing bikes she passed by, wondering what would really speak out to her.
Scrutinizing the line of bikes, Hermione noticed someone over customer service wearing white and red racing leathers. Their figure was obviously female, but they were wearing a full-face helmet, matching their suit that had a black shaded visor, totally obscuring her face. Hermione nudged Harry and pointed her out.

“Think it’s Bardwell?” asked Hermione.

“Looks more like Gully to me,” said Harry, who then held his chest and asked, “Doesn’t Bardwell have a little more meat up here?”

“You wouldn’t be able to tell if she’s wearing bike leathers,” said Hermione, “They tend to strap down your bosom.”

The woman biker took a small paper bag from the customer service clerk, paid him, and left. As she passed Hermione and Harry she looked at them, gave a two-finger salute and walked off. Harry just shook his head as he watched the woman stuff her purchase under the seat and straddle the racing bike.

“Who WAS that?” asked Harry.

“I don’t know,” said Hermione.

She woman revved the engine hard and squealed the bike off down the street at extremely high speed. Hagrid told them to stop staring and took Harry’s melted wheel to customer service. The wheel was easily handled in Hagrid’s palm like a Frisbee and Hagrid gently laid it down on the customer service counter. The store manager, a very rugged man with grease stains on his hands didn’t even look twice at Hagrid and examined the ruined tire.

“What ‘appened?” he asked.

“Had a bit a fire,” said Hagrid.

The manager looked up at Hagrid and asked, “’Ow’s the rest of the bike?”

Hagrid just shrugged his head and said, “’Is fine. Bent handlebar, loose clutch cable, no problem.”

“Norton?”

Hagrid shook his head yes and the manager commented, “You might want to watch the wiring if you had a fire. They can be a bit dodgy.”

The manager, who never reacted to Hagrid’s size like it was anything special at all hefted the wheel into his workshop and got busy putting on a new tire as Hagrid asked. Harry was a little curious about the manager being so casual.

“Hagrid, have you been here before?” he asked.

“Not often,” said Hagrid, “’Aven’t been in ‘ere for ages, really.”

Hermione was paying close attention to the manager as he balanced the tire on his machine, pressurized it and brought it back. When he did, the manager noticed Harry in his wheelchair the same way the salesman did.

“Is it your bike?” he asked.

Harry said yes and the man asked, “You didn’t get into trouble with this, did you?”

“It’s mine, but I don’t ride,” said Harry.

“You’re not shining me on, are ya?” asked the man, sounding serious.

“No! I inherited it from my godfather after he passed away,” said Harry who then pointed to Hermione, “She’s the one who wrecked it.”

Hermione bit her lip as the man regarded her.

“Right,” he said.

“We’re getting it fixed up so I can have proper lessons,” said Hermione, “A teacher at school is arranging for me to earn a permit.”

The manager shook his head and said, “Right, then missy, just so you know, don’t treat them like toys or you’ll wind up like your boyfriend there.”

“Now Angus, be more friendly, you knew this boy’s Godfather,” said Hagrid, “It was Sirius Black.”

“Sirius?” said the manager, who had stop and think for a moment as his eyes flashed back and forth, “Ah yes, Sirius. He bought that bike from me. A Norton Commando 850. Best machine I had in the whole store. I’m sorry to hear he passed away. It wasn’t-?”

The manager trailed off as though he was hinting at something and Hagrid said, “Oh, not a road accident.”

Hagrid leaned forward and whispered, “It was murder.”

The manager was shocked and Hagrid had to whisper again, “It was terrorists, in London.”

The manager gasped and asked, “Was it those cultists I’ve read about in the paper?”

Hagrid shook his head and whispered a few things, telling the manager he didn’t want Harry to get upset as Harry himself wound up in the chair by cause of the same people. The manager immediately took a more sympathetic tone and sold Harry the tire without charging him for labour.

“Be sure to come back when you want a bike for yourself Hagrid,” said Angus.

Hagrid eyed the Yamaha 1600 closely on his way out as Hermione and Harry talked amongst themselves.

“Did you hear what he said?” asked Harry.

“Cultist, in the paper,” said Hermione, “That sure would fit a muggle description for Death Eaters.”

“I wonder how much of the magical world has been leaked to the muggle world?” asked Harry, “The whole summer when I was at the Dursley’s last year I never picked up one HINT of anything unusual at all.”

“Let’s stop by a news stand and pick up some muggle print,” said Hermione.

On the way back out of town, Hermione asked she wanted to stop at a local smoke shop to pick up some chocolate bars. Hagrid said it was just a splendid idea and Hermione ran in by herself to pick up a copy of the London Times and every other copy of every major newsprint in the country. She also picked up half a dozen chocolate bars, four of which were for Hagrid. On the way back to the school Hermione scanned the papers and Hagrid merrily munched on his bars. As Hermione read, Harry was looking at the Sun a little more prone to reading up on the superficial parts of the paper, and had a bit of a shock on page three.

“FUCK!”

“Harry!”

Harry handed the newspaper to Hermione who looked and-

“FUCK!”

“Watch the language,” said Hagrid, “I’m not above handing out detentions, you two.”

Hermione put the newspaper in front of Hagrid’s face looking like she was ready to cry. Right there on page three, in a grainy looking photo was Hermione standing topless with her hands on her hips in a broom closet.

“Fuck!” said Hagrid, “Dumbledore’s going to have a right shit in ‘is robes over this, he will.”

Harry was furious. Lambasting Hermione in The Daily Prophet was bad enough, but this had gone too far. He would personally tear every single copy he saw in anyone’s hands and incinerate it on the spot, and whomever he took it from would be grateful to get away without getting their robes on fire.

“Draco!” said Harry as his fury boiled, “He isn’t out for two days before-“

“Harry!” Hermione interrupted and whispered, “The broom closet, remember? It was Wednesday. Draco wasn’t out until ”

“That only proves he didn’t take the picture,” said Harry.

Hermione tugged hard on Harry’s shirt and said, “Harry, listen to me, I don’t want you going around the school making a fuss over this. Remember what happened last year when Umbridge tried to ban everyone from reading the Quibbler? It only assured everyone in the whole school would be reading a copy.”

“Well what do you suggest?” said Harry, not containing his anger.

“We take the high road,” said Hermione, “Let the Slytherins make all the fuss they want, we instruct the DA not to react. We ignore them.”

“We can’t let them get away with this!” said Harry.

Hagrid butted in going, “They’re in a boatload of trouble right now, I promise ye’. If that picture was taken on Hogwarts’ grounds somebody’s going to be expelled for sure. Not to mention the ministry will have a fit about pictures taken inside of Hogwarts printed in a muggle newspaper!”

Harry slapped his knee and said, “We’ll turn the tables on them. Now it’s a head hunt.”

When they got back to Hogwarts, Hagrid insisted Hermione and Harry wait in the garage as he went to fetch Professor Bardwell. Harry only noticed the racing bike for a moment, and when Bardwell came back, Harry saw she wasn’t wearing any motorcycle leathers. Still, she could have easily gotten changed, and Harry kicked himself for being distracted by such trivial things.

“Let’s see it,” said Bardwell as she walked up to them with her hand held out.

Harry handed Bardwell the newspaper and she immediately flipped it open to page three.

“This was taken in Hogwarts?” asked Bardwell.

“That’s the broom closet on the way to Gryffindor Tower,” said Hermione.

“What where you doing in there?”

“I... was getting changed for supper,” said Hermione, “I didn’t want to have to go all the way up to the girl’s dorm and back again just to keep crumbs off my school uniform.”

Bardwell pulled out a magnifying lens and began to examine the print closely.

“Why does the picture look like this?”

“I know,” said Harry, “That’s a digital photo. That’s why it has those funny little pixels. Whatever it was had very low resolution, so it was probably a cell phone camera or a really cheap digital camera.”

“You know a lot about these,” said Bardwell, “Are these modern muggle cameras very small?”

“I saw one on sale at Dixon’s for ten quid that was no bigger than the size of a galleon,” said Harry, “It could take a few hundred pictures at 640 by 480 resolution.”

Bardwell asked if Harry could describe what they looked like and Harry did her one better. In just a matter of a few minutes he downloaded a bunch of pictures onto his laptop of different kinds of cameras for sale and printed the pictures off his spool printer in his wheelchair. Admiring Harry’s quick ingenuity, Bardwell took the print and eyed it keenly.

“So they’re all different shapes, but around this size or smaller?” asked Bardwell.

“Yes,” said Harry, “And don’t bother looking for the ones with big lenses that look more like old style cameras. They take very high quality pictures and would look a lot different than that picture of Hermione. You’re looking for something really cheap or only capable of low resolution shots, like a cell phone or some novelty key chain camera.”

“If I brought it to you, would you be able to tell me if it was the camera that could have taken this picture?” asked Bardwell.

“Yes, absolutely,” said Harry.

Bardwell comforted Hermione and promised her that the teachers and the Aurors would get to the bottom of who was responsible for this. Several wizarding laws had been seriously breached, not the least of which was privacy, but the one Bardwell mentioned the ministry would be concerned about was the exposure of the magical world to the muggle world. Hermione wanted to get to Hogsmead to get to a phone to her parents to warn them.

“This just isn’t going to end at Hogwarts,” Hermione pleaded, “My dad’s going to put the solicitors on that paper.”

“Are you sure you want to tell them?” asked Harry.

“They’re bound to find out soon!” said Hermione, “My dad will go right off his nut when he finds out that picture was taken at Hogwarts. He might demand I come home, I have to convince my parents right away the professors are on top of it.”

“Tell your parents it’s a criminal investigation,” said Bardwell, “And the muggle ministry will be contacting the editor of the paper.”

Hermione looked too upset to walk and Harry transformed his chair. Instead of turning into a scooter, the chair became a rather snug two-seater and Harry held onto Hermione as the chair briskly made its way to Hogsmead. They stopped just outside the Three Broomsticks, where there was a muggle phone booth. Stumbling with her change, Hermione randomly jammed coins into the phone, but it kept spitting them back into the change slot. Harry handed Hermione his debit card and told her to insert it into the slot next to the dial buttons.

“The pin number is 8907,” said Harry.

Hermione stopped for a moment, chuckling and sobbing.

“That’s the serial number on your broom, Harry,” she said.

Harry just shrugged and Hermione dialled home to her parents. For privacy she shut the door on the booth. It killed Harry to watch Hermione panic and cry on the phone. Once she cried out “No!” and slammed her palm on the side of the booth. He could tell Hermione was begging her parents of something. Like anything he hoped they weren’t asking for her to leave Hogwarts, by the end of it Hermione had settled down, but her face was streaked with tears all down her face.

Harry reached up from his chair put his arm around Hermione and asked, “Do they want you to come home?”

“Yes, it wasn’t easy but I talked them out of it,” said Hermione, “My dad wants to come up here.”

“Here?” asked Harry, “Can muggles do that?”

“Well there’s nothing to stop them from making it as far as Hogsby at least,” said Hermione, “From there, there’s a spell that muddles muggle’s brains if they try taking the same road back as we did. They just wind up going in a large circle, that paved road just goes around some farms and heads right back to Hogsby. I made him promise me not to try to find Hogwarts on his own.”

On the way back, it just began to hit Hermione the whole country and many parts all over the world would have seen that photo by now. She just didn’t know how to react; it was too big to comprehend. As they got back to Hogwarts, Hermione saw what she figured must have been the inevitable reaction as Ron came running up to them. Just as Hermione was about to say she didn’t want to deal with this right now, Ron said;

“Where have you been, Harry? You’re going to be late for your physical!”

Harry slapped his armrest in anger and said he forgot all about it. He didn’t want to leave Hermione but Ron practically dragged him and Hermione in the now dual-seated chair all the way up to Madame Hooch’s office. Everyone who wanted to get involved with the Quiddich team was gathering around in the office. Ron was carrying on about it being a disaster, since Harry never had a chance to practice.

“Ron, I already know how to walk,” said Harry, “It either works or it doesn’t. Let’s just do it.”

Firmly Harry locked down the chair, slapped his hands on the armrest and stood, refusing help from anyone. Once on his feet, Hermione got off the chair and had an idea. She cast a mass reduction spell on Harry.

“That should help you last a little longer,” said Hermione, “Good luck.”

Harry kissed Hermione on the lips, then turned and did his best to walk normally. With his body on the edge of being like a balloon, it was like a bizarre tightrope walk. It would be a job just to keep Madame Hooch from getting suspicious. It was a great stroke of luck Madame Hooch insisted on performing most of the physical examination while Harry sat in a chair. If anything Harry wanted to get up around the office to prove he can walk. There were several strange articulated devices that hovered around Harry and were taking magical measurements of Harry he couldn’t comprehend, or felt very comfortable being poked by.
By the time he got his clean bill of health, and a pass to play for the year, he was just glad to get out of there and get back to Hermione. It was annoying when his some Gryffindors grabbed him and flung him up and down to celebrate. While he was tossed he looked to Hermione who had obviously confided in Ron, who looked absolutely crest fallen. Harry struggled to get down and promised everyone there’d be time to celebrate at the Three Broomsticks Later. He was worried Ron would blow a gasket, but he looked as shocked as Hermione, powerless and not knowing what to do.

“They’ve gone too far, too far this time,” said Ron, “They can’t get away with this. No way. This time they have to pay.”

“So what do we do?” Harry challenged, “Gather the three other houses and lay siege to Slytherin tower until it’s burned to the ground?”

“That’s a start,” said Ron.

“Tim is in Slytherin,” said Harry, “We’ve got to focus. I just... I just don’t think the whole of Slytherin is behind this. We’ve got to think circles within circles going on here.”

“Alright, of course I don’t blame Tim, maybe it’s unfair to blame the whole of Slytherin tower for Draco and their lot,” Ron speculated, “But if those sixth years know anything about it they bloody better well turn them over to Dumbledore or there’ll be hell to pay.”

“There’ll be no such thing,” said Hermione, “We don’t even know it is Draco.”

“Hermione!” Harry interjected, “Draco tattled on you to Rita Skeeter, it’s too obvious, he has to be behind it. But I definitely agree we take the high road on this. I don’t want any backlash coming back on us for retaliations. This can turn into a war. This is all Slytherin’s garbage, let it all fall back down on their own heads. I say let the Aurors and professors do their hunting and we STAY OUT OF THE WAY making no trouble. I am damn serious about this and I’m going to bring it up first thing at the next DA meeting.”

“So you say we do nothing?” asked Ron.

“I didn’t say that,” said Harry, “We’re going to help any way we can. But we’re not going to make any trouble, got it? We’ve got to be smart about this, Ron. We’ve got to be really REALLY smart.”

Ron shook his head as though he couldn’t believe it. Reluctantly he joined into the exuberance of the cheering Gryffindors who wanted to take Harry to the Three Broomsticks and celebrate his being reinstated into the team. They wouldn’t let him get back in the chair as people like Dean Thomas and Neville carried Harry all the way down. Ginny was riding in the chair enjoying herself wheeling around the crowd. Dean Thomas thought he would go broke from having to buy a round of butterbeers for every single member of the DA.
Understandably Hermione was distant, just joining in and drinking butterbeer to be a good sport. To Harry, the whole celebration was just badly tainted. He figured he better get Ron and his girlfriend over to London before he gets any crazy ideas to knock down Slytherin Tower with a stolen steam roller, and half of him just wanted to get away before he was tempted to do it himself. Tim was in that Tower, and maybe his own friends weren’t so bad, but the whole thing overwhelmed Harry. Yet at the same time, it just seemed so petty. Why were Slytherin’s so preoccupied with such childish confrontations, Harry pondered, didn’t they know there was a war going on?