The Scent of Trouble

Chapter 7/8 - The Perfume is Opened

Harry Potter had never before awoken in a tree. Or with a naked girl curled up beside him. He'd often woken up dreaming of a girl, of course, while the tree was a completely new experience. So was a hangover, though unlike the girl and the tree, he couldn't recognize it for what it was.

Sunlight filtered green by the leaves of the Forbidden Forest illuminated the hollow in the ancient tree where they'd taken refuge in the night. The hollow was little more than a meter across. Their nocturnal twisting and tossing had caused them to sink into the powdery remains of old nests that formed the floor of the hollow. Little was visible of Ron but his red hair, but Hermione had her head and one breast above the mulch. Harry looked for a long time at that breast, a powder of crumbled leaves dusting it like cinnamon, moving up and down with her slow breathing.

Harry tore his gaze away, and thought What time is it, anyway?. He gave up. The light was too diffuse to tell if the hole in the bole faced east or west, or if the sun was high or low. Maybe if I'd been a Boy Scout I could tell by which birds are singing, he thought.

He thought of waking the others. There was so much to do. They had to find their way back to the campsite, the golems had to be roused at the castle and instructed to leave before too many people saw them, and someone guessed that they weren't the real Ron, Harry and Hermione.

There was so much to do. But part of being a leader is knowing where to lead. Waking first had given Harry a few minutes to make plans, rather than argue them out with the others. Well then, what should we do?

Nothing came to mind. They'd spend a month planning this trip, and it had taken only a few hours for it to all to fall apart. Who was Harry Potter to figure out how to fix it all before breakfast?

Well, he thought, I'm Harry Potter, that's who. The trip was my idea. Hermione thought of the golems and cast the spells for them. Ron magicked the butterbeer. I just posed as leader.

Last night things had gone wrong, badly wrong. Harry had led, and they'd woken up alive. Still, they'd gone to bed naked in a hollow tree in a rainstorm, with some red-eyed beast baying at the foot of the tree.

Had they fled? No, Harry had heard a term for it. Something some general had said. He willed his pounding head to remember it. 'Withdrawing to previously prepared positions.' That was it. A thousand years and more of forest creatures had prepared this position in the tree, and it was there when they needed it. Probably it was the best thing we could have done, Harry thought, It worked, and I can't think of anything else we could have tried.

What were their problems? That silly enchanted perfume of Hermione's. Harry sniffed. The hollow smelled of autumn leaves and dried herbs, lavender and pine needles. Strange that there wasn't a scent of a thousand years of animal droppings. Or not so strange. The way my mouth tastes, I must have eaten them all last night. He sniffed again. The perfume was very faint, almost completely gone. Well, she said the recipe promised 'an unforgettable night'. We'll never forget this one, that's for sure. At least it's finally morning.

If the perfume was gone, that made everything easier. They could do magic again - once they got their wands. Still, they'd survived the night without any magic. They'd done the right thing, maybe the best thing they could have done, by luck or by instinct. Now, thought Harry, we've pushed our luck far enough. I've got to use my head, even if it is pounding like Dudley's drum set.

How to set everything right? Well, when did it all go wrong? After we made the golems, Harry decided. Surely no more than eighteen hours before, but it seemed much longer. He thought back. Just what had happened?

They made Ron's golem first. Harry excavated the clay and mixed in the ground up remains of the pottery egg that Ron had carried around for a week, letting it absorb the pattern of his thoughts. Harry and Hermione formed the clay into a rough model of Ron, and Hermione cast the spell. The clay doll came to life, and once the excess clay was washed off, showed itself to be a remarkably exact copy of Ron.

Embarrassingly exact, as the golem was quite unclad. Ron was working in his boxer shorts - making golems is about as neat an activity as making mud pies - and went to get his pants to loan to the golem.

Harry glanced at Hermione bent over her spellbook and stopped Ron with a hand on his arm. Ron turned to him, puzzled, and Harry raised his eyebrows and jerked his head ever so slightly towards Hermione. After a moment Ron smiled and nodded his understanding and agreement.

"Hermione, let's do Harry's golem next. Look, I'll set mine to dig." Ron's golem picked up the shovel and rapidly started making a pile of clay like the one from which it had risen.

"Thanks, Ron." Hermione looked at the golem, the image of Ron, working tirelessly. "Um . . . don't you want to loan it your shorts or something?"

"Why, Hermione? It's just a golem."

Harry feigned the same indifference when his golem was up and moving. He washed it down with pitchers of water (running water wreaks havoc with most magic, so a bath in the stream was out) and exercised it naked in the sunny meadow.

Finally Hermione's doll rose from a third mud pile, and the boys watched intently as the excess mud came off a body just like Hermione's. Their bravado had the desired effect: for her to complain now about the nakedness of an animated mud doll would smack of silly prudery.

They practiced with the golems all afternoon, until each could push awareness of his golem to the back of his consciousness, and control it only when needed. Their overnight absence from school depended on the golems reliably impersonating them though dinner, a night in the dorm, and an early breakfast.

At the end of the afternoon they were satisfied. They'd had several hours of practice, and also had had the golems chop up two fallen trees to provide wood for the evening's bonfire.

"Only one problem," Harry said, "If the idea is for them to pass unnoticed, we probably shouldn't send them back naked. Also, someone may have noticed what clothes we left in, and if after a day in the woods together we all come back dressed differently, there might be talk."

"So we use a duplication spell and give them a copy of our clothes."

"No good, Ron, on two accounts," said Hermione. "First, as you know, two spells operating in close proximity can cause unexpected interference. If you put a magic copy of your shorts on your golem, by the time it undressed for bed it might be wearing pink shorts over a purple paisley butt."

"That might be an improvement," suggested Harry.

" AHEM " Hermione continued, "Secondly, Dumbledore has had entirely too many problems with invisibility cloaks and may have set some alarms around the castle, to warn of visitors wearing enchanted garments."

"Why no alarms against golems?" Ron asked.

"Well, he hasn't had any problems with golems, has he?" she said. "Besides, I got the spell out of a book of love charms. A lot of the teachers are unmarried. If they're making golems, Dumbledore just may not want to know."

"Good point," said Harry, laughing. He understood golems better now that he'd seen Hermione's. "But still, what do the golems wear?"

"Actually, I think Ron had almost the right idea. We use a duplication spell, all right, but we wear the copies and the golems wear the real clothes."

The boys walked over to the rock where they'd left their clothes in heaps. Ron picked up his wand, then paused. "Hermione? Would you turn around a minute?"

"What?"

"I've got to duplicate my shorts, too."

Soon the boys were dressed in the magically duplicated clothes, and their golems were putting on the originals.

"Now you boys turn your backs," Hermione ordered.

The boys did, and Harry noticed Ron mouthing words. He looked more closely. "Use the golem". Harry shut his eyes and tried to see through the golem's. Yes! He could see the rock, and Hermione, waving her wand at a pile of clothes topped by white panties and bra, with just a little lace. Then she was taking clothes from the pile of duplicates and putting them on.

Harry watched through the golem's eyes until he heard her shout "Ready!" Then he commanded the golem to come and stand by his side.

"What do we look like, Hermione?"

"Like children of one of those demented mothers who doesn't realize her twins are too old to be dressed alike. "

He laughed, "Well, so do you! The Granger Twins!"

"So you're Harry Potter and Harry Pottery."

They sent the golems back to Hogwarts. The three had been wearing the clay eggs the last time they'd make the journey, so the golems remembered the path, and just had to be told to follow it.

They trailed the golems to the camp site. It was eerie to see themselves walking ahead. Other than being strangely silent and disinterested in the scenery, each thought the golems of the other two looked just like them.

None of the three thought his own golem a very good likeness, but that is a phenomenon experienced by any Muggle child who has ever seen himself on videotape.

As they watched the golems disappear down the hillside towards Hogwarts, Harry looked at his copy of his watch. "Downhill it's only an hour. We'd better have them wait a bit at the end so that they arrive just in time for dinner."

"Maybe we should take turns watching them, just in case," said Hermione.

"Good idea. You get the first leg, down to our last rest stop this morning. Then Ron can take them to the border of the Forbidden Forest, and I'll handle them from there."

While Hermione sat with her back to a tree, Ron and Harry busied themselves starting the campfire. Now that the golems were made and on their way, casual magic would not interfere with them. Harry set the fire alight with a wave of his wand. A quick warding spell set up an invisible barrier against creatures from the Forest.

The fire would have to burn down to embers before they could cook dinner. The looked at the flames till Hermione came up. "Your turn, Ron." He settled himself on the ground, leaning against the woodpile, and closed his eyes.

They could not cook yet, but Hermione opened the picnic basket and got out the campfire food. The food that came out of the basket seemed too wholesome for Dobby to have selected by himself: steaks and sausages and baking potatoes. Hermione playing house, Harry thought. Still, she hadn't forgotten a bag of marshmallows. Harry took the bottles of butterbeer down to the stream to cool.

When he came back Ron was standing. "Where were you? It's your turn already."

Harry took Ron's position against the woodpile. It was still warm from Ron's body. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated.

He was looking through the golem's eyes. He stood at the edge of the Forbidden Wood. Crows circled overhead, and far across the fields he could see Hogwarts. The other two golems stood with him. He called to them, "Come on." He walked towards the castle, and they followed.

Whoa, Harry thought, The golem walked, not me. He concentrated. If he tried, he could hear the crows cawing, feel the evening breeze on the golem's skin.

How had the trip been so far? Did my golem really hear Hermione's? He thought back. Nothing . He could sense whatever the golem sensed, but its memories were closed to him.

In the Hogwarts gardens he found a secluded bench, a place the seventh-year boys bragged they took girls after the spring dance.

A moment later, back at the camp, Harry opened his eyes.

"All right, it's almost dinner. We're all going to have to tune in to our golems until bedtime."

"What about dinner for us?"

"Ron, no one will think it odd if we go to bed early after a day of hiking. In another hour we'll be tucked in there, and we'll eat here. And we'll open your butterbeer."

The other two sat down beside Harry against the woodpile. With the fire to keep them warm, and the magical wards to keep away the creatures of the forest, they would be fine here.

"Where are we, Harry?"

"That little arbor with the stone bench, just down from the main gate."

"Right, I know the place you mean."

"Who took you there, Hermione? I know it wasn't Ron or I." Then Harry closed his eyes and followed the link to the golem. The other two were still beside him, but now they were all sitting on the stone bench.

Dinner was odd. They sat in the Great Hall without really being there. They picked a corner of the table crowded with younger students. When Neville and Seamus appeared in the hall, Harry had only to make his golem gesture at the chairs filled with first year students and shrug.

Few of the professors were there, and none came by their corner of the table. The only close call came when Draco Malfoy walked by on his way to the Slytherin table. "Baby sitting tonight, Potter?"

Harry sat silently. A crunching noise came from Ron's place, then a clatter as his knife dropped on the table. All eyes went to it. Ron's golem had crushed the handle.

Draco had his mouth open for another jibe. He stared, whitened, and walked away without another word.

The first year students stared too. Ron's golem turned to the closest. "Want to see another trick? I can take a coin out of your ear." While the younger children watched the sleight of hand, Hermione dropped her napkin over the crushed knife, then palmed it.

What a night for a fight, Harry thought, Too bad there's no way the golems would escape being detected by one of the professors. Darn.

They spent only ten minutes in the common room, ostentatiously stretching and yawning. Though the window by the fireplace they could see the hills beyond the Forbidden Forest. For a month they had sat here every night, thinking of the night they would spend off there in the hills. Now they were there - and here, too.

Harry walked his golem upstairs beside Ron's. They put on their pajamas. Their trip to the bathroom was brief; as their toothbrushes were in the tent off in the hills, and brushing teeth that would turn back to clay the next day was a pointless exercise anyway.

Ron's golem turned to Harry's. "Think they can go to bed by themselves?"

"Sure. Let's get back to the campfire. I'm hungry."

Ron and Harry opened their eyes to see Hermione by the fire, putting the steaks on the grill. The foil-wrapped potatoes were already resting in the embers. "There you are. I was wondering what you two were up to. Another ten minutes and we'll have dinner."

"Ron, why don't you open those bottles of butterbeer?"

Ron was soon back from the stream with a bottle of magicked butterbeer in each hand. "You know, I could hear lots of animals across the stream. Must be from the Forbidden Forest."

The three looked around. On the other side of the clearing, where wind from the forest carried the smell of roasting meat, the night was full of eyes.

Ron filled a tumbler for each of them. .

"Ignore them. They can't get through the warding spell." Harry raised his tumbler. "Here's to our trip."

They clinked their glasses, and each took a gulp.

Harry thought he had swallowed liquid fire. His eyes watered and he started to choke, but managed to only cough. Still, once the butterbeer got down, it seemed to warm his stomach. He sipped at his cup, more cautiously this time.

"It tastes like it's burning, Ron!" said Hermione.

"That's probably because it's only fifty percent pure, what the measuring spell called "hundred proof". If we could make it pure maybe it wouldn't have that taste."

In a few minutes the tumblers were empty and Ron refilled them. Hermione got up and took the steaks off the grill, but stumbled and almost dropped them.

The steaks were served out and the potatoes retrieved with a few burnt fingers. They were all ravenous. They devoured the steaks, washing them down with butterbeer.

It was a splendid evening. The moon seemed brighter than they had ever seen, the clouds growing steadily thicker merely added to the beauty of the night. Jokes were funnier. The evening air had seemed cool, but with a bit more butterbeer they felt it not at all.

They had pulled off a major magical stunt, one that matched any student prank they had heard of. They were on a mountain in spring, with the sky above them and the breeze in their hair. Or it may have been only that they were young and free of supervision. And it might have been all that, and a bottle of rather potent butterbeer. It was a splendid evening.

Hermione rose and went to her bag of magical apparatus. After some fumbling she pulled out a small oval glass flask. Harry saw her apply a few drops to her fingers. She patted her fingers behind her ears and then, raising her chin, ran her fingers in a long stroke down her neck. She dropped the bottle into her shirt pocket.

Puzzled, he watched her come back to the fire, weaving slightly. "What's that, Hermione?"

"Just .. . just a perfume that I made from a recipe in the spell book."

"Perfume? Let me smell it."

Harry got up. For some reason that was difficult. Ron, he noticed, was getting up too, sitting down abruptly once in the process. They were on their feet as she reached the fire.

Harry breathed in the perfume. His head spun, his stomach lurched. For a moment Hermione looked like a wood nymph.

The oval bottle dropped through Hermione's pocket. It fell to the ground and shattered on a rock, spattering the three with perfume. The smell was overpowering.

"What? Look! Our clothes! They're dissolving! It's acid!"

Harry could see his trousers shredding as if they were lint, patches falling off and drifting toward the ground, dissolving into nothing with a faint sparkle. "It's not acid, Ron. Something's undoing the magic in the clothes." He grabbed his wand, his hand tearing his pocket off in the process. A preservation spell. What's a preservation spell? His head was spinning.

Harry would have liked to think that despite the confusion and the butterbeer, he remembered to check the wards. The beasts of the forest had checked more quickly than he, though. A roar nearby made them all look up.

Well, one spell came to mind. "Lumos!" Harry shouted. Nothing happened. "Ron! Hermione!"

"Lumos!"

"Lumos!"

All the eyes were closer. The three looked at each other. The other two looked to Harry. His glasses dissolved in a burst of sparkles.

"Forget the magic. Drop the wands. Run for the stream! Now!"

They ran for the stream, away from the nearest of the beasts, who stopped to worry the remains of their dinner and the rest of their provisions.

They wove and stumbled unaccountably. Their shoes had torn off and disintegrated in the first few paces. They came to the stream.

"Hold hands," Harry said. "It's pitch black in the Forest, and we can't get separated."

"Run into the Forbidden Forest? Are you crazy, Harry?"

"There are more than enough creatures here to eat us. The running water will slow some of them."

"Where will we go?"

"Away. They're coming. Now run!"