Harry Potter and the Missing Memories

Chapter 7

Timetables and Troubles

When they got their timetables at breakfast the following morning, Harry groaned. It looked like Tuesdays were going to be a nightmare for him and Ron: double Potions with the Slytherins in the morning, and double Divination in the afternoon. Having Divination with Professor Trelawney was never good for them at the best of times, but to have a double session straight after lunch was undoubtedly worse.

"Here's a good Arithmancy question for you, Hermione," said Ron, buttering his third slice of toast. " 'Food + Divination = Sleep: Prove.'"

Hermione looked up from colour-coding her timetable and smirked. "That should be pretty easy. All I'd need to do is climb Trelawney's ladder at three-o'-clock this afternoon and take a picture of you two. Why you didn't take something interesting like Ancient Runes or Muggle Studies, I don't know."

"Wednesdays aren't too bad - Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures and Transfiguration," commented Harry, scanning the rest of the timetable, "But we don't get our first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson until Friday morning."

"Wonder what that new teacher's going to be like?" mumbled Ron, his mouth full of toast. "We'll have to see what the others think of her. Fred & George have got her tomorrow."

There was a flurry of noise from overhead. They looked up and saw the post owls soaring into the Hall. Harry saw Malfoy's eagle owl swoop down with the usual weekly supply of sweets and cakes from home. Neville also had a large parcel from his grandmother, suspended between two barn owls, which contained a selection of things he'd forgotten to pack into his trunk. Hermione received her usual copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Is our favourite reporter still keeping her quill to herself?" asked Harry, motioning at the paper in her hand.

"So far, so good," replied Hermione with a smile. "She hasn't written a single article all summer. But then she's hardly likely to with what I've got on her, is she?"

Harry and Ron looked over Hermione's shoulder at the front page of the newspaper. A large, moving black-and-white photograph of a very elderly wizard with bushy, grey eyebrows and a monocle scowled at them from the centre of the page and shook his fist. The headline over the photograph read: MUNDUNGUS ATTACKED.

Harry read further.

'Mundungus Fletcher, a notable collector of magical curios, was found stunned at his home in Derbyshire last night. His house had been ransacked, and several valuable magical objects were stolen. Mr Fletcher is currently recovering at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, where staff say his condition is 'satisfactory'.

This brings the number of attacks on wizards in recent months to four, as well as several mysterious fires that some believe to be arson. The Ministry of Magic strenuously denies there is any link between these attacks, but asks that anyone with any information should contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where the information they give will be treated in the strictest confidence.'

"Another attack!" exclaimed Ron in hushed tones.

Harry once again found himself irritated by his isolation from the wizarding world during the summer holidays.

"I got the impression from what Ginny said on the train that there had been some trouble over the summer. What exactly has been going on?"

"Well, the Daily Prophet has reported four attacks now: Elisha Mossop in Surrey, Richard and Juliet Tranmer in Shropshire, and now Mundungus Fletcher," said Ron, lowering his voice even further, "but Dad says there has been far more going on than that - burglaries, fires, even Muggle-baiting. Cornelius Fudge has insisted that as much as possible should be kept under wraps, but it has created loads of extra work for the Ministry staff. You know, memory charms and that."

"Mmm, Ginny said your dad and Percy hadn't been home much," Harry remarked. "Weren't there any reports about what happened to Mrs Figg?"

"Not that I heard about," replied Ron, "but then she has been working in secret for years, hasn't she? The Ministry probably don't know anything about it."

"Where have I heard of Mundungus Fletcher before?" asked Hermione, putting the paper down on the table. "I'm sure that name rings a bell."

"He's a really eccentric old guy," replied Ron. "Don't know if you remember, but when Dad was taking part in all those raids about three years ago, old Mundungus tried to hex him when he raided his house. Keeps some pretty dodgy stuff in his collection, so Dad says."

"Yeah, but Dumbledore seems to trust him," said Harry. "Do you remember in the hospital wing at the end of last term? He sent Sirius off to see him. He wouldn't do that unless he was sure."

"I always said Dumbledore was off his rocker," snorted Ron.

*

After breakfast, the three of them collected their things from Gryffindor Tower and headed down the steps to the dungeons, where Professor Snape's classroom was. Most of the Slytherins were already there, as the Potions classroom was far nearer their dungeon common room than Gryffindor Tower. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle leered at them as they approached.

"Good summer, Potter?" drawled Malfoy. "Murdered any more innocents recently?"

The Slytherin girls sniggered behind their hands, while Hermione tutted indignantly. Harry kept Malfoy's gaze, his eyes narrowed in anger, determined not to give any ground to him.

"Innocents? You should be completely safe then, Malfoy," he replied between gritted teeth. He then turned his back on Malfoy towards Ron and Hermione, who both looked as angry as he felt.

"Ignore him, Harry," whispered Ron. "He's just hoping you'll rise to the bait."

"I intend to," Harry replied, "but I don't want to let him get away with too much either."

The rest of the Gryffindor students arrived in dribs and drabs, waiting in the corridor for Professor Snape to arrive. Among the last to arrive were Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. Harry noticed almost immediately that Lavender was walking slowly and wincing slightly, and that Parvati was fussing around her like a mother hen, holding her arm and patting it supportively.

"Hermione, what's up with Lavender?" he asked.

"She broke her ankle over the holidays," Hermione replied, "and because she's Muggle-born she didn't have access to a Medi-wizard. Parvati took her to see Madam Pomfrey last night. She took the plaster off and examined it, but said she didn't have enough stock of the right potion in to mend it properly on the spot. Apparently it had started to mend wrongly, so it'll take more time and trouble than just mending a fresh break. Lavender has to get through today as best she can with just a splint on and spend tonight in the hospital wing having it fixed."

Professor Snape arrived and ushered them into the classroom in his usual dour fashion. Harry stood back and let the other Gryffindors go in first, watching Lavender closely as she passed. Lavender limped by in obvious pain and took her usual seat next to Parvati. Harry found himself wondering what this pretty young witch could possibly see in his obnoxious muggle of a cousin. He was going to have to find the right moment to tackle this one, that was for certain. And now was definitely not it.

Harry took his seat next to Ron at the back of the class, while Hermione sat next to Neville. Once the last student was seated, Professor Snape swept down to the front of the class, his billowing black robes making him seem like an overgrown vampire bat, and began the lesson.

"Over the last four years, you have all mastered something of the rudimentary skills of potion-making - with some notable exceptions," and here his dark, expressionless eyes came to rest on Neville Longbottom, who went as white as a sheet and looked ready to faint. "Now we shall begin to look in more depth at the various areas of expertise to which potion-making can be applied. For most of this year, we will be exploring potions concerning common ailments and their remedies. This will be of particular interest to any of you considering further studies in Medi-Wizardry once you have left school. Today we shall begin with a potion that gives the symptoms of the common cold, the Sneezing Solution."

The rest of the double lesson was taken up with brewing the Sneezing Solution and testing it on each other. By lunchtime the room was filled with the sounds of sneezes and wheezes from all corners, except for Hermione, who, having tried some of Neville's solution, had developed a bad case of hiccups. Professor Snape took a large bottle of an amber liquid and doled out a measure to each student.

"Please drink this remedy before you go to lunch to reverse the effects of your potions," Snape said, his voice notably raised over the sneezes of his students. "Your homework is to research suitable remedies for the Sneezing Solution and discuss the relative merits and drawbacks of each. Class dismissed."

Harry, Ron and Hermione drank their remedies and headed for the Great Hall for lunch. By the time they got there, both Harry and Ron had stopped sneezing and felt normal, but Hermione's hiccups had not stopped. Obviously Snape's remedy didn't work on whatever it was that Neville had concocted.

*

After lunch, Hermione headed off for her Arithmancy class, still hiccupping intermittently, while Harry and Ron reluctantly climbed the long staircases to the top of North Tower, then up the silvery ladder and through the trap door into Professor Trelawney's classroom.

As they climbed in, the heat and heavy scent from the fire hit them. Harry sighed. It was going to be so difficult to concentrate in here all afternoon. Harry and Ron slumped down into some little chintz armchairs near the window, and Harry reached up and opened the window a fraction, just enough to let a small amount of cool air waft over his face. Dean, Seamus and a few of the other students appeared through the trap door and found their seats. Then Harry and Ron heard a small strangled yelp from somewhere below them. Ron, who was nearest, leaned over to look down.

"It's Lavender. She's having trouble getting up here," he said. "Let's give her a helping hand."

Harry got up and went over to the ladder. Lavender had managed to climb about halfway up, with Parvati directly behind her, but now she was just hanging on, her face white with pain, unable to go any further.

"Lavender, take hold of my hand," called Ron, bending down, his arm outstretched. "That's right. Now quickly get hold of Harry with your other hand."

Harry leaned down, and Lavender hesitated for a moment, strengthening her grip on Ron's hand, before she took a deep breath and swung her other hand up towards Harry. He clasped hold of her wrist, and he and Ron pulled her up into the classroom. Harry caught her round the waist to stop her landing heavily on her injured foot and gently set her down.

"Thank you, Harry," she said, still holding his hand and leaning against him for support. She clutched his hand a bit tighter and smiled at him. She was so close he could feel her warm breath on his cheek. "I don't know how I'd have managed without your help."

"Er - it was Ron's idea," replied Harry awkwardly, as he hurriedly removed his arm from her waist, hoping that his face hadn't gone red.

"Yeah, it was," said Ron from behind him, sounding slightly indignant.

"Well, thank you both then," Lavender answered.

Parvati swept past Harry and Ron and, taking Lavender's arm, guided her to the little table nearest to Professor Trelawney's armchair by the fire. They unpacked their books and began to whisper to each other behind their hands.

"What d'you make of that?" Ron whispered to Harry. "Reckon she fancies you?"

Harry didn't reply, but just raised his eyebrows and shook his head sceptically. He was saved from making any further comment by Professor Trelawney's usual dramatic entrance from the shadowy doorway that led to her private chambers. She was wearing her usual assortment of bangles and talismans, a soft lilac lace shawl draped over her thin shoulders.

"Welcome to your third year of Divination," she said in her mistiest voice. "We shall start the year with a brief revision test on the methods you have studied to date: tea leaves, palmistry, basic star charts and crystal ball gazing. Next lesson we will progress to our next area of study: card reading. I have foreseen that one of your number will not be here due to illness, while another will be nursing a broken heart. If the one of the remainder of you could pass your notes to them to enable them to keep up to date, that would be much appreciated. Now the question paper is on the table before you. You may begin at your leisure."

She waved her wand, and a small pile of question papers appeared on each table, which they spent the rest of the afternoon completing. Harry found this kept him focused enough not to get too drowsy, though he did have to nudge Ron a couple of times when he saw his eyelids drooping.

At the end of the double lesson, Harry made a quick exit down the ladder, Ron following close behind, to ensure that Lavender couldn't enlist their help in getting back down to terra firma.

"You know," commented Ron, as they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room, "that must be the first Divination lesson when Trelawney hasn't predicted your death."

*

The next couple of days passed uneventfully enough. Herbology was joint with the Hufflepuffs as usual, and in History of Magic, Professor Binns moved from the goblin rebellions they had seemingly been studying for an eternity to the giant wars, which proved to be equally as boring.

In Hagrid's absence, Professor Grubbly-Plank started to teach them about the care of Jobberknolls: tiny, blue speckled birds whose feathers are used in Truth Serums and Memory Potions. She had a large cage containing ten or so birds and allocated two students to each, asking each pair to make notes about their bird's plumage, size and distinguishing features. Dean and Seamus named their bird Tweety Pie. They spent most of the lesson trying to get it to sing, and Dean was rather put out when Professor Grubbly-Plank informed them that the birds were mute.

"How can you have a bird called Tweety Pie that doesn't sing?" muttered Dean in a disgruntled fashion.

Professor Grubbly-Plank also told them that there would be a special project beginning after Christmas, the details of which she was not yet allowed to divulge. This certainly caught their interest, and they speculated for hours that evening about what it could be.

"We've done unicorns, so it can't be them," said Ron to the other two, "and we've done Hippogriffs and Nifflers too. Couldn't be dragons, could it?"

"Of course it couldn't," replied Hermione curtly. "You know dragon-breeding is illegal in this country. They're hardly likely to let a bunch of students loose on caring for a dragon anyway, are they? It'd just be asking for trouble. Besides, this is Professor Grubbly-Plank we're talking about, not Hagrid."

*

Thursday evening found them sitting in the far corner of the crowded Gryffindor common room as usual. Ron was beating Harry at chess, and Hermione was busy doing her Arithmancy homework. On the other side of the room, Fred and George were busy showing off their latest inventions to a crowd of younger students.

"These ones took us weeks to perfect," said Fred to their audience, "and they do taste rather good."

"Strawberry and vanilla flavour," added George. "Who'd like to try one?"

Tiny Dennis Creevey stepped forward and took one of the pink bonbons from the plate Fred was holding.

"There's one born every minute," whispered Ron to Harry.

"What do they do then?" Harry asked.

Harry didn't have to wait long to find out. Dennis popped the sweet into his mouth, chewed it a few times. Then there was a faint popping sound, and Dennis sprouted a long black beard that reached to his waist. The crowd erupted in laughter, causing Hermione to look up from her books and tut loudly.

"We got the idea from Professor Dumbledore himself last year," explained George.

A minute later there was another pop and the beard fell to the floor, leaving Dennis unmarked but very excited by his experience.

"That was great!" he squealed, "and they taste fabulous too! Can I have another?"

"Why don't you try one of these instead?" suggested Fred, offering him another plate laden with what looked like large yellow pills about a centimetre in diameter.

"What are they?" asked Colin Creevey, pulling Dennis back by the shoulder. He was clearly more concerned for his brother's welfare than his brother was.

"They're horse pills," replied Fred. "See, it's written on them here."

Sure enough the yellow tablets had the words 'HORSE PILL' stamped into them.

"They do exactly what it says on the pill," said George.

Dennis freed himself from his brother's grip and took one of the pills. He looked it over first, then put it in his mouth.

"Tastes of bananas," said Dennis biting into it. Then a look of astonishment came over his face. He held up his hands, except that they weren't hands any more but hooves. Then he tried to say something, but instead of words coming out, he neighed and whinnied.

"Don't worry, Dennis, it only lasts for a minute," said Fred reassuringly. "Why don't you try out those hooves?"

Dennis eyed Fred suspiciously for a second. Then he smiled, went down on all fours and tried to run. He found his back legs had shortened to match his arms and also had hooves. He lapped the common room at quite a pace, only stopping when he crashed into a table. Then he stood back up, and his legs and feet changed back. A few seconds later - and exactly a minute after he'd taken the pill - Dennis Creevey was completely back to normal again.

"Anyone else want to try some?" asked George.

A few brave souls did, and soon the noise in the common room was almost deafening, with popping noises, neighs and hysterical laughter. All around the room students were sprouting beards, growing hooves and running around neighing loudly.

"That's it," said Hermione, slamming her quill down onto the table, "I've had enough."

She marched over to Fred and George.

"Fred, George, it may have escaped your attention, but some of us are trying to study. Unless you pack this lot away right now, I shall deduct points from you," she proclaimed officiously.

The twins scowled at her, but began packing away nevertheless.

As the neighs and laughter died down, Angelina Johnson, a seventh-year prefect, stood up on the staircase and called for silence. The chatter gradually subsided until all eyes in the room were turned to her.

"Professor McGonagall has asked me to make an announcement concerning the Quidditch team. As you know, we need to choose a new Keeper this year, now that Oliver Wood has left. Katie, Alicia, Fred, George and myself are all in our final year too, so thinking ahead, it would be a good idea to choose and train up reserve Chasers and Beaters as well. There will therefore be Quidditch trials for all those positions on Monday evening on the Quidditch pitch. The trials are only open to second-years and above. If you are interested in taking part in the trials, please give me your name by Sunday night."

Murmurs and excited whispers broke out across the common room. Harry looked across at Ron.

"Are you going to go for it then?" he asked.

"Mmm, might do," said Ron, taking Harry's queen with his knight. "Checkmate."

"What position?"

"I quite fancy Keeper myself, but I'd be willing to be a Chaser as well. Depends on who else shows up for the trials, doesn't it?"

Hermione shut her Arithmancy book sharply and frowned at Ron. "How on earth do you expect to be able to do Quidditch practice and be a Prefect, Ron? Surely you won't have time to do both? You've already committed yourself to Prefect meetings and duties - that's something you should take seriously. Not to mention studying for your O.W.Ls."

Ron scowled back at her. "I do take it seriously, Hermione. But it's not the be-all-and-end-all. Angelina managed to combine the two, and I'm sure I can too."

"Angelina's grades were higher than yours to start with, and she's generally done bare minimum on the Prefect duties," retorted Hermione, "And can you imagine what your mum would say if you didn't get many O.W.Ls because you spent too much time playing Quidditch?"

"You leave my Mum out of this..." Ron started, but just then Angelina came across to them.

"Thinking of trying for the team?" she asked Ron, who nodded in reply. "Good man. Now, Harry, the existing team need to get together with Professor McGonagall and choose a new Captain. She's suggested Sunday evening. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah, fine," Harry replied.

Angelina went off to find Fred and George. Harry was pleased to see that her interruption seemed to have diffused Ron and Hermione's argument, at least for the time being.

Then Harry spotted Lavender Brown across the other side of the common room with Parvati, Dean and Seamus. She had spent Tuesday night in the hospital wing having her ankle fixed by Madam Pomfrey, and now she was walking quite normally again. Harry had been thinking about how to try to find out if she had been writing to Dudley, but was having trouble of finding a way to broach the subject without just marching up her and saying 'Lavender, have you been writing to my cousin?' That was hardly the subtlest approach. Also the way she had reacted to him in the Divination class had unnerved and confused him somewhat. Ron had been right: she had acted as if she fancied him. He couldn't see how that fitted with her writing to Dudley, if indeed it was her.

Lavender saw Harry staring at her, caught his eye, smiled and came across.

"Hi Harry," she said, perching herself on the arm of the chair he was sitting in.

"Hi Lavender. How's the ankle now?" asked Harry, shifting uneasily as Lavender draped her arm along the back of the chair behind him.

She replied, "Oh, it's as good as new now. Look." Then she unexpectedly lifted up the foot that had been injured and put it on Harry's knee. "It was broken across here..." she indicated with a finger "and there was a deep gash just there."

As she leaned forward to point out where her injuries had been, her long, dark brown hair brushed against Harry's cheek. Ron raised his eyebrows in mild disbelief, while Hermione suppressed a giggle and looked quickly down at her notes. Harry tried to lean as far back in the chair as possible, away from her, but as he did so he could feel that he was just pressing against her arm on the chair back. Feeling the colour rising in his face, he brushed her foot off his knee and stood up.

"How did you break it, anyway?" he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Now Lavender looked a little embarrassed.

"Um, it was a freak accident. I can't really explain it ... Look Harry, can I talk to you privately?" she said, glancing across at Ron and Hermione.

"Suppose so," answered Harry. "Let's go over there by the window." He figured it would be better to bring up the subject of Dudley privately rather than in front of the others.

When they were out of earshot and had both sat down on one of the window seats, Harry said, "So what did you want to talk to me about, Lavender?"

Lavender avoided Harry's gaze nervously.

"It's kind of awkward..." she began, looking down at her immaculately manicured nails. "I've noticed you looking at me a lot in the last few days and..." Now she looked up and her blue eyes met his "...and I was hoping that maybe you feel the same way about me as I do about you."

Harry stared at her with a puzzled expression on his face. This wasn't what he'd expected to hear.

"What d'you mean?" he asked, unable to think of anything more suitable to say.

Lavender sighed. "Do I have to spell it out, Harry? I like you a lot, and I was wondering if ... if you'd take me on a date sometime."

As she said this, she slipped her hand into Harry's and sidled closer to him.

"No!" said Harry loudly, pulling his hand away and jumping to his feet again. "I was looking at you because I was wondering why you've been writing to my cousin, not because I fancy you!"

The common room went rather quiet, and lots of people started looking in their direction, but Harry was so flustered by Lavender's proposition that he didn't really notice them. The smile had faded from Lavender's face, and she looked a bit shocked.

"You know about that?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

"Wasn't too hard to work out: a girl called Lavender Brown starts writing to Dudley, but breaks her ankle on her way to see him. Then you turn up at school with a broken ankle. QED," said Harry hotly. "But what I don't understand, Lavender, is why you're leading Dudley on one minute and coming on to me the next."

"Well, when I realised that Dudley was your cousin, it was just too good an opportunity to miss to get to see you over the holidays, to get closer to you. It's not a crime to like you, is it Harry?" she replied, looking at him wistfully.

"But it is pretty underhand to use him to get to me! Dudley thinks you're interested in him, that you wanted to visit him, and it's going to hurt him to find out you're not. What makes you think I'd be interested in a girl who'd walk over someone else's feelings like that?"

Ron, who'd been watching what was going on, had made his way over to them.

"Hang on a minute," he said incredulously, "Are you telling me it's Lavender who's been writing to Blubber Boy over the summer? Ha, can't blame you for keeping that one quiet! Like 'em big, do you Lavender?"

Lavender gave Ron a contemptuous look and then turned her attention back to Harry.

"What about you then, Harry? You have all these barriers around you, don't you? Whatever it was round your house that broke my ankle was just a small part of something far bigger. You're afraid to let anyone get too close to you. How very brave!"

"At least I can choose who I let in!" retorted Harry.

"Lavender and Dudley!" said Ron, missing the point of the argument entirely. "What was it you first saw in him, Lavender, his triple chin?"

Lavender scowled angrily at them. "Compared to you two, Dudley is a pussycat!" And with that she stormed off up the stairs to her dormitory.

Hermione joined them as they watched her retreating back.

"That was - um - delicately handled," she observed. "Don't you think you were a bit hard on her, humiliating her in front of everyone like that?"

"Humiliated? Her?" said Harry. "How do you think I felt with her crawling all over me like that? Didn't mean for it all to be so public though."

"Dudley and Lavender!" repeated Ron disbelievingly.

*