Unedited
Chapter Twenty- "Mistakes were made..."
We step off the stone staircase at the top and Professor McGonagall raps on the door. It opens silently and we enter. Professor McGonagall tells us to wait, and leaves us here, alone.
Very smart, very smart indeed.
If you can't tell, that's sarcasm.
I look around. One thing is certain: of all the teachers' offices I've visited, Dumbledore's is by far the most interesting.
It's a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stand on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls are covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom are snoozing gently in their framed. There's also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tattered wizard's hat - the Sorting Hat.
Harry moves slowly over to the desk, lifts the Hat from its shelf, and lowers it slowly onto his head. It's much too large and slips down over his eyes. Sighing, I run my hand over the bookshelves and begin to read the titles.
"You're wrong!" Harry says suddenly, making me drop a book on the floor. He's put the hat back on the shelf, and is moving away from it slowly. I'm just picking the book up when a strange, gagging noise makes me and Harry look around.
We aren't alone after all. Standing on a golden perch behind the door is a decrepit-looking bird which resembles a half-plucked turkey. "It looks very ill," Harry says, thoughtfully.
Well yeah, it's a Phoenix, it's about to explode and start life again, duh!
"All we need now is for him to die," Harry jokes, just as the bird bursts into flames.
Harry yells in shock and backs away into the desk. "Is there any water?" Harry gasps, looking around. Fawkes (the bird), meanwhile, has becomes a fireball; he gives one loud shriek and next second there's nothing but a smouldering pile of ash.
I should probably tell him that's meant to happen. Ah well, this is funny.
The office door opens. Dumbledore comes in, looking very sombre.
"Professor," Harry gasps, "your bird - we couldn't do anything - he just caught fire -"
Dumbledore smiles as he says, "About time, too. He's been looking dreadful for days, I've been telling him to get a move on."
He chuckles at the stunned look on Harry's face and turns to me.
"I'm guessing you didn't tell Harry about a phoenixes life span. Phoenixes burst into flame when it's time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch Fawkes ..."
I look down in time to see a tiny, wrinkled, new-born bird pokes its head out of the ashes.
"Hey Fawkes," I stroke the baby phoenixes head.
"It's a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day," says Dumbledore, searing himself behind his desk. "He's really very handsome most of the time: wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers and they make highly faithful pets."
In the 'shock' of Fawkes catching fire, I forgot why we're here, but t all comes back as Dumbledore settles himself in the high-backed chair behind the desk and fixes Harry and I with his penetrating, light-blue stare.
Before Dumbledore can speak another word, however, the door of the office flies open with an almighty bang and Hagrid bursts in, a wild look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on top of his shaggy black head and the dead rooster still swinging from his hand.
"It wasn' Harry or Emily, Professor Dumbledore!" says Hagrid urgently. "I was talkin' ter 'em seconds before that kid was found, they never had time, sir ..."
Dumbledore tries to say something, but Hagrid goes ranting on, waving the rooster round in his agitation, sending feather everywhere.
"... It can't've bin him, I'll swear it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic if I have to ..."
"Hagrid, I -"
"... Yeh've got the wrong boy, sir, I know Harry never -"
"Hagrid!" says Dumbledore loudly. "I do not think that Harry or Emily attacked those people."
"Oh," says Hagrid, the rooster falling limply at his side. "Right. I'll wait outside then, Headmaster."
And he stomps out looking embarrassed. I have to stifle my giggle.
"You don't think it was us, Professor?" Harry repeats hopefully, as Dumbledore brushes rooster feathers off his desk.
"No, Harry, I don't," says Dumbledore, though his face is sombre again. "But I still want to talk to you."
Harry and I wait nervously while Dumbledore considers us, the tips of his long fingers together.
"I must ask you both, whether there is anything you'd like to tell me," he says gently. "Anything at all."
I don't know what to say.
"Yes," I blurt out, and Dumbledore looks at me expectantly. "Can I borrow this?" I say, holding up Alice in Wonderland. I've never read it before."
*
The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick turns what has hitherto been nervousness into real panic. Curiously, it's Nearly Headless Nick's fare that seems to worry people most. What could possibly do that to a ghost, people ask each other; what terrible power could harm someone who is already dead? There's almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that students can go home for Christmas.
"At this rate, we'll be the only ones left," Ron tells us. "Us, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. What s jolly holiday it's going to be.
Crabbe and Goyle, who always do whatever Malfoy do, has signed up to stay over the holidays too. But I'm glad that most people are leaving. I'm so done with people skirting around me in the corridors, as though I'm about to sprout fangs or spit poison; tired of all he muttering, pointing and hissing as I pass.
Fred and George, however, find all this very funny. They go out of their way to march ahead of Harry and I down the corridors, shouting, "Make way for the heirs of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard and witch coming through ..."
Percy is deeply disapproving of this behaviour.
"It is not a laughing matter," he says coldly.
"Oh, get out of the way, Percy," says Fred. "We're in a hurry."
"Yeah, they're nipping off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant," says George, chortling.
Ginny doesn't find it amusing either.
"Oh, don't," she wails every time Fred asks me loudly who I'm planning to attack next, or George pretends to ward Harry off with a large clove of garlic when they meet.
Harry and I don't mind; it makes us feel better that Fred and George, at least, think the idea of us being Slytherin's heirs is quite ludicrous. But their antics seem to be aggravating Malfoy, who looks increasingly sour each time he sees them at it.
"It's because he's bursting to say it's really him," says Ron knowingly. "You know how he hates anyone beating him at anything, and you're getting all the credit for his dirty work."
"Not for long," says Hermione in a satisfied tone. "The Polyjuice Potion's nearly ready. We'll be getting the truth out of him any day now."
*
At last the term ends, and a silence deep as the snow in the grounds descends on the castle. I find it peaceful, rather than gloomy, and I love the fact that me, Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys have the run of Gryffindor Tower, which means we can play Exploding Snap loudly without bothering anyone, and practise duelling in private. Fred, George and Ginny have chosen to say at school rather than visit Bill in Egypt with Mr and Mrs Weasley. Percy, who disapproves of what he terms our childish behaviour, doesn't even much time in the Gryffindor common room. He's already told us pompously that he is only staying over Christmas because it's his duty as a Prefect to support the teachers during this troubled time.
Christmas morning dawns, cold and white. Hermione drags me out of bed, and up to Harry and Ron's dormitory, carrying presents.
"Wake up," she says loudly, pulling back the curtains at the window.
"Hermione, Emily - you're not supposed to be in here," says Ron, shielding his eyes against the light.
"Merry Christmas to you, too," says Hermione, throwing him his present. "I've been up for nearly an hour, adding more lacewings to the Potion. It's ready."
Harry sits up, suddenly wide awake.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive," says Hermione, shifting Scabbers the rat so that she can sit down on the end of his four-poster. "If we're going to do it, I say it should be tonight."
"Wait, you got Emily up at," Ron peers at the clock, "five in the morning!"
"Pfft, no," I scoff, sitting down on the end of Ron's bed. "I've been up like, for ten minutes"
At that moment, Hedwig and Charmandar swoop into the room, both carrying a very small package in their beaks.
"Hello," says Harry happily, as Hedwig lands on his bed, "are you speaking to me again?"
I stroke Charmandar, and take the package, a Christmas present from my parents. They've sent me Pandora ring, which I immediately slip into my finger. My five best friends had come together to get me two charms to add to my bracelet. Hagrid has sent me a large tin of fudge and I receive a new, hand knitted jumper from Mrs Weasley. The last present I open doesn't say who it's from. Inside is another charm, a penguin charm. This is defiantly from Fred and George. Long explanation, you don't want to know.
Let's just say, tobogganing isn't as fun as it looks.
Maybe I shouldn't have done it with a crop top on. The burn was unreal.
Mistakes were made...
*
No on, not even someone dreading taking Polyjuice Potion later, can fail to enjoy Christmas dinner at Hogwarts.
Heading down to the Great Hall, I turn a corner and walk into someone.
"Sor - oh hey George," I smile up at him. Damn his tallness. Damn his good looks. Wait, keep on topic. "Thanks for the charm." I show him my bracelet.
"No problem," he says, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "Thanks for the broom kit."
"Well, you are always complaining about it," I say, as we start to walk again.
"Fred picked out the charm," George suddenly blurts out.
"Okay?" I reply, unsure of what to say.
Like what does he want me to reply with, wow cool that's great! Idiot.
"I'm telling you because I've got you another gift which is all my own," he says, suddenly looking nervous. "But you have to close your eyes."
"George, that sounds rapey," I mutter, staring at him indignantly.
"Just do it you twat," he glares playfully, pulling me to a stop.
I close my eyes, laughing slightly, and wait. I feel George's hot breath on my face. Shit, is he going to.... Something soft touches my lips, George's lips. And suddenly we're kissing.
First kiss, my first kiss. And it feels.....
Wrong.
We break apart and I shift from foot to foot. Crap, this is going to be awkward.
"George, is it just me or was that ..."
"Like kissing a family member?"
"Yes!" I look up at him and he's scratching the back of his head.
"So, still best friends?"
"Defiantly," I say as we keep walking towards the hall.
"Good," he grins, "I'm still gonna threaten the ass off any boy who tries to date you."
"I wouldn't want it any other way," I reply as we enter the hall.
FRIENDSHIP GOALS
The Great Hall looks magnificent. Not only are there a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe cross-crossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow is falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. Dumbledore leads us in a few of his favourite carols, Hagrid booming more and more loudly with every goblet of eggnog he consumes. Percy, who hasn't noticed that Fred has bewitched his prefect badge so that it now reads 'Pinhead', keeps asking us all what we're sniggering at.
Harry, Ron and I have barely finished our third helpings of Christmas pudding when Hermione ushers us out of the Hall to finalise our plans for the evening.
"We still need a bit of the people you're changing into," says Hermione matter-of-factly, as though she's sending us to the supermarket for washing-powder. "And obviously, it'll be best if you can get something of Crabbe and Goyle's; they're Malfoy's best friends, he'll tell them anything. And we also need to make sure the real Crabbe and Goyle can't burst in on us while we're interrogating him.
"I've got it all worked out," she goes on smoothly, ignoring Harry and Ron's stupefied faces. She holds up two plump chocolate cakes. I go to grab one but she holds them away from me. "I've filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. All you have to do is make sure Crabbe and Goyle find them. You know how greedy they are, they're bound to eat them. Once they're asleep, pull out a few of their hairs and hide them in a broom cupboard."
"That's just a waste of food," I mutter, pouting.
Harry and Ron look incredulously at each other.
"Hermione, I don't think -"
"That could go seriously wrong -"
But Hermione has a steely glint in her eye not unlike the one Professor McGonagall sometimes has.
"The Potion will be useless without Crabbe and Goyle's hair," I say. "You do want to investigate Malfoy, don't you?"
"Oh, all right, all right," says Harry. "But what about you two? Whose hair are you ripping out?"
"I've already got mine!" says Hermione brightly, pulling a tiny bottle out of her pocket and showing us the single hair inside it. "Remember Millicent Bulstrode wrestling with me at the Duelling Club? She left this on my robes when she was trying to strangle me! And she's gone home for Christmas - so I'll just have to tell the Slytherins I've decided to come back."
"So have I," I grin, "Hermione's got it. I'm being Pansy Parkinson."
When Hermione has bustled off to check on the Polyjuice Potion again, Ron turns to Harry and I with a doom-laden expression.
"Have you ever heard of a plan where so many things could go wrong?"
He's obviously never heard of any of Maya or I's plans....