Circle's Close

Chapter Sixteen: The Golden Eagle

“I still think you should go to Dumbledore,” said Hermione quietly as she flipped through the book sprawled open before her.

“And I still disagree with you,” Harry said defiantly.

Harry and Hermione sat across from each other in the library, doing research for their least favorite class, Potions. It was mandatory that every 7th year student in Potions find a draught that they had never studied or brewed before, learn it by heart, and teach the class how to mix it properly. It was worth 30% of their final mark, and Severus Snape, their Potions Master, had made it abundantly clear that the success of their potion depended greatly on how well the class performed in brewing the mixture given to them.

At the moment, however, Hermione was barely concentrating on her potions assignment. Two weeks had passed since Harry's prediction in the greenhouse, and once Harry had told Hermione about it, she immediately insisted that he go to Dumbledore. But Harry seriously doubted that this prediction was anything to worry about, and had disagreed with Hermione on the subject.

Harry clearly remembered having similar conversations with her long ago, when he had had his first vision. Even now, Hermione’s persistence was not wavering. Throughout the past two weeks, she would bring up the subject at odd moments, hoping to catch Harry at a weak point and convince him to see Dumbledore.

"Do you honestly believe that the predictions you've been having don't mean a thing?" Hermione demanded sharply.

Harry fought hard to control whatever remaining patience he had. It was times like these he wished Hermione hadn’t begun to believe in prophecies and visions.

"It's not that," Harry told her, very calmly. "I just don't believe there's anything Dumbledore can do."

As he stared hard at the book he was reading, Harry could see that Hermione was staring at him fixedly. He sighed and lifted his head so his eyes were level with hers, and what he saw lifted his sour mood and made him want to laugh. She was giving Harry a look that he knew she was using as a last resort. The "puppy-dog eyed" look, where she raised her eyebrows into a small arch above a pair of hopeful brown eyes, completing the picture with a protruding bottom lip.

“Don’t give me that look, Hermione,” Harry pleaded, melting inside against his iron will.

Hermione seemed to sense that he was finally relenting, too, because she increased the look ten-fold. Harry sighed, wondering how he could face off against the Darkest wizard ever known to mankind, and yet cave in almost instantly when it came to the woman he loved.

“Alright, alright,” Harry finally conceded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Hermione beamed at him. “Now that we’ve covered that problem, I was wondering--have you made reservations for dinner yet?”

“Absolutely,” said Harry. “Keep your calendar clear next Saturday. I’ll tell Ron and Leah to do the same.”

Just at that moment, Hagrid’s massive form emerged from the bookcases behind Harry and Hermione’s table. He was clutching a book to his chest, and when Hagrid’s beetle-black eyes landed on the witch and wizard, his large hand discreetly covered the title before either Harry or Hermione could see it.

“Hello!” he exclaimed jovially, at which Madam Pince hushed him immediately with a deadly glare.

“What’s that you’ve got, Hagrid?” asked Hermione curiously.

“I got me a book,” Hagrid replied vaguely.

Hermione laughed. “You’re not getting secretive on us again, are you? Haven’t you learnt by now that it’s impossible to keep anything from us?”

“’S no harm in tryin’, ain’t there?” he asked in return, and Harry grinned at Hagrid’s innocent reply.

Hermione sighed.

“What’re you both up ter?” asked Hagrid curiously.

“Potions,” said Harry, his nose crinkling in disgust, and he told Hagrid about the assignment.

Hagrid made a noise of sympathy and nodded. “Well--best ter get it o’er with, I always say. Ye’d do good ter go firs’, maybe.”

“He is going first. In two weeks,” Hermione told the half-giant. “But I keep insisting that he has nothing to worry about. Harry's a wonderful teacher.”

Harry smiled at Hermione appreciatively while Hagrid cleared his throat loudly. “Well--got a lotta work ter catch up on. I’ll see yeh two later.”

When he left, Hermione looked at Harry sharply. “Did you notice what I noticed?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Er--“

“He was coming from the Restricted section, Harry!” Hermione hissed.

Harry’s stomach dropped with a heavy feeling of dread. “This isn’t good...”

“Well of course that all depends on what book he picked out...” Hermione replied with a thoughtful expression on her face. “I mean--he’s not introducing us to some new and dangerous creature. We already know the general outline for our Creatures class.” She paused, looking deep in thought for a moment. Then: “It’s not...that likely, is it? You don't think he'd spring something up on us? Like a...a...Manticore or something?” she asked worriedly.

This time it was Harry’s turn to give Hermione a pointed look. “We know Hagrid better than that,” he told her.

Hermione heaved another sigh. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

*

The following week-end Ron was staring at Harry with a mixture of horror and awe on his face. He then turned his bright blue eyes back to the restaurant they were standing directly in front of.

“You’re joking, right?” he said to Harry, utterly dumbfounded.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked him innocently.

“This is the Golden Eagle,” Ron said in a hollow voice.

“I know it is,” Harry said, smiling.

“The most prestigious--expensive restaurant in Hogsmeade,” Ron added.

“That’s right,” Harry agreed. “Happy Birthday, mate,” he added as Hermione linked her arm through Harry’s.

“Shall we go inside?” she asked, shivering against him.

Leah slipped her hand into Ron’s, and the two followed Harry and Hermione into the restaurant.

“Welcome to the Golden Eagle. How can I help you?”

A young man wearing a fancy, forest green set of robes, stood at a podium which was located to Harry’s left. He was smiling at them in a welcoming way.

“We have reservations for Potter, please,” Harry told the man.

The wizard consulted the list laid out before him, at which point Harry whispered into Hermione’s ear, “You look beautiful.” And before she could reply, the host looked up at them again and nodded.

“Follow me, please, Mr. Potter and company,” he instructed.

Hermione and Harry grinned at each other and obeyed the host, while behind them Ron and Leah gasped with delight. Harry attempted to keep a straight, nonchalant face as they walked through the restaurant, as though he dined richly all the time. But he couldn’t stop himself from feeling an overwhelming sense of awe as he glanced all around him, taking in his surroundings.

The restaurant was shrouded in furniture as deep a shade of blue as the walls. There wasn’t a single window anywhere to be seen, and no lamps to give light. Instead, the restaurant was illuminated by hovering candles lit with soft, blue flames. Gentle music echoed through the restaurant, which left the atmosphere calm, giving the customers a feeling of peace and serenity. Harry could instantly see why this place was so expensive and such a success.

They passed many tables and booths occupied by elegantly dressed witches and wizards, some sipping wine from crystal goblets, others using utensils Harry had never seen before. Harry spotted the source of the music to their far right. A beautiful witch garbed in shimmering silver robes strummed her slender fingers along a large, golden harp. The body of the harp was shaped like a giant eagle, complete with a set of golden wings which spread out at either side.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she,” Hermione whispered at Harry’s elbow as they continued to follow the host.

Harry nodded as he looked at the harp-playing witch. He felt enchanted just by being in the same room with her. “Is she a Veela?” he asked Hermione.

“No, she’s an Eternal. An immortal witch,” she added before Harry could ask. “They’re as rare as a true Seer, and a hundred times more useful.”

“An Eternal? Here?” Ron gasped with delight, his head swinging in the same direction where Harry was looking. “Wait until Mum hears about this.”

“How do you know she’s an Eternal?” Harry asked Hermione curiously.

Hermione smiled at him, but it wasn’t with her usual knowledgeable grin. Her eyes seemed to light up, as though drawn from a power within her. “You know that feeling you’re experiencing right now?” she asked softly. “Eternals fill you with hope and tranquility. They take away all your bad feelings and thoughts, and leave you with nothing but your best memories. Basically, they’re the total opposite of Dementors.”

Just as they passed the Eternal, she looked up and met Harry’s eyes. The emotional sensations that followed were instantaneous. Harry felt the joy of life and love as he had never experienced it before. And something in him began to rise, filling every dark corner of his being -- a feeling of peace and prosperity. He felt blessed for everything he had, and grateful for being alive. Harry remembered the Cheering Charm he had learnt in Third year, but what he was feeling now was far more intense.

The witch smiled serenely at Harry and inclined her head in acknowledgment. She then turned back to her harp and continued to entrance the restaurant as she played.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked, looking at Harry with concern.

He turned and looked directly into her eyes, feeling so happy he could cry.

“I have never been better,” he told her, his voice thick.

The host finally brought them to a plush booth at the far end of the restaurant which seemed isolated from all the other tables.

“The best seat in the house, sir,” said the host with a bow. “Your waitress will be with you in one moment. I sincerely hope you enjoy your meal, and if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said sweetly, taking her seat before everyone else. As the host left, Leah followed Hermione’s lead by sitting across from her, and Harry and Ron took their seats next to their partners.

“Harry--“ Ron said in the same tentative tone he had adopted outside the Golden Eagle.

“I’m paying, Ron. I don’t want to hear any more arguments on the matter,” Harry said shortly.

“You can’t pay!” Ron hissed, suddenly indignant.

“Oh believe me, mate, I wouldn’t be paying in any normal circumstances. What am I? Made of gold?” Harry joked. “But it’s your birthday, and as we didn’t get to celebrate it properly on your birthday, this was literally the best thing I could do.”

“You can’t pay,” Ron repeated, but with less fervor than before.

“What are you planning to order, love?” Harry asked Hermione, ignoring Ron with a smile.

“I’m not sure...” Hermione replied thoughtfully as she opened the menu in front of her.

“How did you know about this place, Harry?” Leah wondered, still staring around in awe.

“Sirius told me about it,” he said without hesitating. “He told me that this was the first place my father took my mother when they started dating.”

Hermione looked from her menu to Harry, her eyes wide in mild shock. “You never told me that.”

Harry shrugged, feeling uneasy. He found himself staring at the other tables where other witches and wizards were dining peacefully. And a familiar ache pierced his heart as he wondered where, all those years ago, his parents had sat on their first date.

“It didn’t come up,” Harry finally told her as he turned his attention back to the present.

“Good evening,” greeted their waitress. She was young, and wore plain, black dressing robes. She was a pretty blonde, with stunning blue eyes and a smile to match. In addition, her wand was tucked behind her ear and she looked very familiar. “My name is Natty. I’ll be your waitress for the evening.”

“Hello,” the others greeted, returning the smile.

“Did you need a few more minutes to order? Could I get any of you anything to drink to start?”

The four exchanged glances until Hermione piped up. “Just a tea for me, thank you.”

Natty promptly pulled out her wand and waved it into the air. A shimmering silver number 1 with the letter T appeared in the air before disappearing completely.

“That’s marvelous!” Hermione exclaimed joyfully. “Is that new?”

“Actually, it is,” Natty replied, flashing Hermione another brilliant smile. “It’s a new development we’ve been testing out for the past couple of weeks, and it seems to work amazingly well. It makes our jobs much easier, and the service is much faster,” she confided.

“How does it work?” she asked with polite eagerness.

When Natty hesitated, Harry nodded his encouragement. “Indulge her,” he said, just as Hermione swatted him playfully.

Natty giggled. “Alright. The number 1 you saw represents the table number, and the letter T represents the order--for instance, you ordered a tea. If you had ordered coffee, I would have drawn a C in the air.”

“Wouldn’t that get confusing with food orders?” Hermione asked interestedly.

“Food orders are slightly different,” Natty explained with the same enthusiasm Harry recognized in Hermione. “We don’t use letters, we use code-numbers. For instance, if you ordered a roasted chicken which comes with any salad of your choice, the code would be 147. Each number symbolizes something about the order. The number 1, obviously, symbolizes your table number. The 4 represents the food group, which would be chicken. And the number 7 tells us which dish you ordered.”

“And what happens then?” Hermione asked.

“It goes directly to the kitchens, where the Taker receives the orders, and informs the chefs.”

Hermione suddenly frowned. “And who are the chefs, may I ask?”

Harry and Ron both closed their eyes, fighting the urge to groan. If Hermione discovered that there were house-elves in the kitchens…no more Golden Eagle.

But Natty was grinning as though she had read Hermione’s mind. “Don’t worry, honey. Only wizards and witches cook here. My parents never supported house-elf slavery.”

Harry and Ron both opened their eyes and looked at Natty in shock. “Your parents?” they both said in unison.

But Hermione was positively glowing.

“You’re JOKING!” she exclaimed. After she realized that she had raised her voice unbecomingly, she regained her composure. “I mean--that’s fantastic. Good for you--and your parents!”

“Your parents?” Ron repeated.

“My father is the owner of this restaurant,” Natty explained with a wry smile.

“Hang on--“ said Harry, frowning up at Natty. “Do we know you? I feel like I…recognize you, somehow.”

“I do, too,” Ron agreed.

“Well you would, wouldn’t you?” said Hermione in her usual know-it-all manner. “She’s Natalie Lovegood. She was Head Girl the same year Percy was Head Boy, remember?”

“Ah, I remember,” Ron said, nodding.

“LOVEGOOD?” Harry exclaimed. “As in--Luna Lovegood?”

“She’s my cousin. You know Luna?” Natty asked.

Ron snorted rudely and yelped when Leah poked him roughly in the ribs.

“Yeah, we know Luna,” Harry answered. “I can’t believe you’re related. And come to think of it...you do sort of...look like her.”

Natty giggled appreciatively. “We tend to act alike, which is probably why you notice a resemblance. Our fathers are brothers.”

“Are you two very close? You and Luna?” Hermione asked.

“She’s the best person I know,” said Natty forcefully. “She’s the little sister I never had.” She looked at her watch. “And listen to me--chatting away when you’re all getting hungry. Anything else to drink?”

A minute later, Natty left, leaving the four to sort out what they wanted to order, and also to discuss the interesting coincidence of meeting another Lovegood.

When Hermione finished reading through her menu, she passed away the time by toying around with the condiments on the smooth, polished mahogany table in an absent-minded way. As she moved the salt shaker, she gave a loud gasp.

“What is it?” Harry asked worriedly.

“Harry!” Hermione hissed, desperately trying to keep her voice down. “Look!”

She pointed to where the salt shaker had been and Harry leaned over, squinting down at the polished table.

And then he saw it. ‘J.P + L.E.’ The initials were small and barely visible upon first glance. But then again, Hermione always did have a keen sense of sight.

“They were here!” Hermione said, a noise escaping her lips like a short sob of joy. “Harry--your parents. They were here.”

A slow warmth cascaded through Harry from head to toe at these words. He felt lighter than air. And he knew this feeling had nothing to do with the Eternal witch.

“How romantic,” Leah sighed dreamily, glancing at Ron shyly.

“I was always told my dad didn’t have very much respect for rules,” Harry said, thinking of the reckless damage his father had done to the smooth, expensive table-top. “But I had no idea he was a sentimentalist.”

Hermione’s hand touched his gently. “Well now the mystery is solved.”

“What mystery?” Harry asked her quizzically.

Hermione smiled warmly at him. “I finally know where you got it from.”

Ron was shaking his head in wonderment. “Now there's a coincidence if there ever was one,” he said, referring to the carved initials.

When Natty returned with drinks for them, she was looking at Ron curiously.

“You’re Percy’s youngest brother,” she said.

“I am,” Ron said, receiving his coffee from her.

“And you have a younger sister as well, don’t you?” she said.

“Ginny,” Ron told her. “Why?”

Natty shrugged as she handed Leah her glass of iced sugar-lemon. “I saw her here a little while ago. With a--“

“I am starved,” Harry exclaimed suddenly. “Are we ready to order yet?”

At the thought of eating, Ron immediately forgot about what Natty was talking about. When Ron wasn’t looking, Harry shot Natty a wide-eyed look, suggesting that it would be better if she didn’t mention Ginny again. And surprisingly enough, Natty seemed to understand the look, and she gave Harry a discreet nod.

“Speaking of Ginny,” Ron said casually as Natty (after taking their orders) traveled to another table, “Tell them what you told me, Leah.”

Harry fought off a groan as Leah sighed. “It’s not a big deal, Ron. I told you I never believed it.”

“Harry and Hermione will get a kick out of it. Trust me,” said Ron.

“Well...” Leah started hesitantly. “According to my friend Justice from Ravenclaw, Ginny has a secret admirer.”

Harry frowned at Leah while alarm bells were ringing loudly in his head. “And how exactly would Justice--“

Hermione gently pressed her foot against Harry’s toes beneath the table, cutting him off mid-sentence, and she shot him a silent look of warning. It then occurred to him that if he pursued the matter, Ron could possibly become even more suspicious than he already seemed.

“That’s a little far-fetched,” Harry finally said, instantly changing the direction of the conversation.

“That’s what I keep telling Ron, but he refuses to drop it,” Leah said in her defense.

“It’s not that necessarily,” said Ron. “I just keep getting this feeling that Ginny is hiding something from us.”

“Paranoid,” Leah muttered with a smile in Ron’s direction.

Ron didn’t say anything to this, and Harry found himself holding his breath, wondering if he was going to continue with the topic about Ginny. Would he remember that Natty had mentioned Ginny, and would he ask her about what she had wanted to tell him?

“I guess so,” Ron finally admitted.

Harry let out a slow sigh of relief.

A few minutes later, Natty returned with four gleaming silver plates. “Food is ready!” she chirped cheerfully. After setting down their plates in front of them, she withdrew her wand from behind her ear once again and tapped each of their plates in order. Their orders magically appeared with each tap of her wand.

“There you are,” she said. “Enjoy!”

They all thanked her, and she left to tend to another table.

It wasn’t until they were half-way through their meal when Ron gave a straggled cough, as though he was choking on his steak. He was looking directly behind Harry, and it took him a moment to get the words out of his mouth. But when he finally did speak, it was in a voice filled with shock and hesitation.

“Hey Harry--isn’t that--Cho?”

Harry and Hermione both twisted around in their seats, and sure enough, Cho Chang was gliding smoothly past the rows and tables. And while Cho was still very pretty, with her long, smooth black hair and cherry-red lips, Harry distinctly noticed the shadows under her eyes, as though she hadn’t slept decently in ages. Her usual gliding walk was more brisk than graceful. She resembled a once flourishing flower which had wilted over a short period of time.

But what mostly caught Harry’s attention was not Cho herself, but the tall man her arm was linked to. Harry recognized the dark hair, the stooped shoulders, and his duck-footed walk.

“And isn’t that--KRUM?” Ron gasped.

Harry and Hermione turned back in their seats to face Ron and Leah. Harry knew Hermione didn’t want to have the evening spoiled by seeing Cho, as her feelings towards the former Ravenclaw were only slightly less than hostile. Harry had his own reasons for not wanting to talk to Cho, and when Ron’s eyes suddenly lowered to his plate, Harry knew that Cho Chang and Viktor Krum had spotted them and were now making their way to Harry’s table.

“Harry?”

Harry looked up at Cho and Viktor with a genuine smile. “Hello, Cho. Hi, Viktor,” he added, nodding to the Bulgarian Seeker.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” said Cho, smiling brilliantly at him. “What brings you all here?”

“We’re celebrating Ron’s birthday. He turned 18 last week,” said Harry. “And how are you both?”

Cho tossed Harry a devilish smile and thrust out her left hand right under his nose. A massive diamond was perched atop a thin, gold band which circled her wedding finger.

“Married?” said Hermione, looking at Viktor with an odd look in her eye.

“We got married just last month,” Cho gushed, her cheeks flushing with excitement.

“Congratulations,” Harry said sincerely. Hermione nodded next to him.

“Thanks!” Cho beamed.

“I see ve vere right za whole time, Harry,” said Viktor, looking from him to Hermione.

It was Hermione’s turn to blush.

“I should have listened to you the first time you hauled me to the side,” Harry agreed.

Cho gave a short laugh. “You make it sound like he was the only one who pointed out your feelings for Hermione.”

“What can I say?” said Harry with an innocent shrug. “I was a mindless git.”

“Yes...” Hermione agreed with a sweet smile. “But a very cute git.”

Cho narrowed her eyes slightly at Hermione, and swept her long, dark hair back over her shoulder with her left hand. “Well, it was nice to see you all,” said Cho in a falsely cheerful tone.

“Congratulations to you both,” Harry repeated with a sincere smile. “You deserve to be happy.” He said the last part to Cho.

She looked at Harry in surprise, as though a part of her believed she didn’t deserve such kind words.

“Thank you,” she said. She turned to Ron. “Happy birthday.” And the next thing Harry knew, they were gone.

A moment later, Harry could see Hermione shaking her head through the corner of his eye. She gave a soft, impatient cluck of her tongue.

“What’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“She’s pregnant,” Hermione said without preamble. She didn’t look up as she said it, but continued to eat as Ron and Harry stared at her searchingly. Leah, on the other hand, nodded her head.

“Who's pregnant?” Ron finally asked.

“Cho! She’s pregnant,” Hermione hissed.

“How can you tell?” asked Harry, feeling as confused as Ron looked.

“Never, ever doubt a woman’s instinct,” said Leah.

“And how is it that girls can tell and guys can’t?” Ron asked, slightly annoyed.

Leah shrugged, unperturbed. “I guess it takes a girl to know one, Ron.”

But Harry was looking at Hermione with a slight frown, finally understanding what she was insinuating. “You’re not saying he married her because--“

“He got her pregnant? Yes, yes I am,” Hermione replied cynically.

“Hermione!” Harry said in an exasperated tone. “Did it ever occur to you that she could have gotten pregnant after they were married?”

“They’ve only been married a month. Cho has been pregnant longer than that. Six weeks,” Hermione predicted. “At least.”

“Hermione...” Harry murmured gently.

“If you don’t believe me, then don’t take my word for it. In seven months we’ll look through the paper and watch for birth announcements. Alright?”

“You just--you sound upset,” said Harry, more gently still.

“Viktor never wanted to get married!” Hermione hissed. “Never. It’s true...we haven’t talked since our 6th year, and maybe he did change his mind about his values. But I doubt that,” Hermione said, speaking very fast and heatedly. “And it’s perfect isn’t it? Cho gets pregnant, traps Viktor into a marriage, because if he didn’t marry her, it’d be all over the national news that Viktor is nothing but a scumbag. And she and her child will always live under his support, and never have to do without anything ever again.”

More silence fell at their table after Hermione’s speech.

“Hermione,” Harry said calmly, reaching for her hand which was clenched tightly in a fist. “There’s a chance he married her because he loves her.”

“Viktor didn’t want marriage or a family. He wanted to focus on his career and she deprived him of that!” Hermione whispered shrilly. “I’m sorry, but I know Viktor, and I know he deserves better than that sneaking, conniving--“

“One would get the impression you don’t like Mrs. Viktor Krum,” said Ron.

“I’ve never liked her,” Hermione admitted with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Harry. I know she was your first--“

“It wasn’t much of a relationship, if you ask me,” Harry assured her. And then he added for good measure, “Any time we were alone was time well spent talking about you.”

Hermione tossed him an appreciative glance and gently squeezed his hand.

Ron shook his head, cutting off another piece of steak with his knife and fork.

“The Golden Eagle isn’t just the most prestigious or expensive restaurant in Hogsmeade. It’s also one happening place.”

Harry smiled, thinking of their evening thus far. And he silently agreed.

***

To Be Continued...