Harry Potter and Friends Read...Goblet of Fire?

The blizzard raged outside, sending cold, snowy showers across the grounds, hiding even the next part of the tower from view. Nothing could be seen save a constant blanket of blinding white. The windows constantly vibrated fiercely as angry layers of snow lashed against them, as if saying that the snow wanted to come in and get warm too, which was ridiculous because if snow gets warm it melts.

But inside, the Gryffindor common room was warm and cozy. The seventh years had, for some reason, been almost the only ones to remain—perhaps many parents felt that it was safer at home, what with Voldemort on the loose—or perhaps they wanted to be with their families in case anything happened. However, the Gryffindor seventh years felt like they had to stick together and had therefore remained and were now sitting in the common room, wearing sweaters and socks, comfortable and snug. Harry and Ron sat around a small table playing chess, and Harry was actually winning for once, which made him feel really good. Ron wasn't even letting him win, because he knew Harry would feel lousy if he knew Ron was letting him win, and Harry did far too much feeling lousy as it was. Seamus and Dean were in front of the fire, where two large kettles hung. Nearby, eight mugs filled with powder were lined up for hot chocolate—the water from one kettle. The other kettle held popcorn, which was popping merrily, making little plink-plink noises that sounded like rain in a teapot. Parvati and Lavender were braiding each other's hair on a sofa, weaving ribbons and sometimes little charms and baubles through the increasingly longer plaits. Hermione was curled up in an armchair, finishing A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens for the millionth time, and Neville was nowhere to be seen.

Anyone looking at the common room who hadn't been in a year would've seen a great many changes. The seventh years had really gone all out on decorating, which they'd never done before. A large tree sat in a corner, decorated with ornaments they had made using Transfiguration principles they had learned that year and lights Hermione had made by conjuring up small fires, sealing them in baby-food jars, and fireproofing the tree before stringing them up. Evergreen boughs were strung about the room, decorated with tiny crystalline droplets. Eight stockings, one for each of them, hung over the cheerfully crackling fireplace.

Big changes had occurred in the students themselves as well. Harry, first of all, seemed about thirty years old. He had been shaken profusely by the loss of his godfather. It had sent him into a kind of painful withdrawal. He almost wasn't Harry anymore. Neville, on the other hand, had been to an optometrist and discovered that much of his clumsiness was due to an inability to see. With his new glasses, he saw much better than he had ever seen before. Hermione, too, had new glasses. Hers were tortoiseshell ovals, average sized, and exclusively for reading. Neville's were for all the time, and they were about the same size, but his were square and gold. Harry was sort of glad, in a distant, far-off way, because he had previously been the only kid in their entire year who wore glasses. Even though his were round and black, he wasn't the only one wearing glasses anymore.

All of the seventh years, whatever their other problems may be, usually had a rather strained look in their eyes. Time and again they had fought Voldemort, or his Death Eaters, and survived, but time was running short. This Christmas was the last normal thing they had in their lives, and they were loath to give it up, even with all the turmoil in the castle. McGonagall had been appointed headmistress after Dumbledore's death, a task she found frightening and daunting, and she had, after an Order meeting, appealed to Harry for help. He had reluctantly agreed to return to Hogwarts, with the understanding that he still had a task Dumbledore had set him to. There were few proper classes, which had left Harry, Ron, and Hermione plenty of time to look for Horcruxes, and in the end the other seventh years had somehow coerced him into letting them help. They were halfway there, but there just wasn't enough time to find them all. Still, they had decreed that this would be their one last hurrah, a final attempt at normalcy before the final push.

Harry gave Ron a triumphant but entirely mirthless grin as he put him into checkmate—he hadn't smiled sincerely in almost six months. Hermione read the last page of her book and closed it with a sigh. Parvati and Lavender tied off their braids at the ends with ribbons and little baubles. Dean and Seamus reached for the pots with long pokers just as Neville burst through the portrait hole. Everyone looked up in surprise.

"Neville!" said Lavender. "Where were you?"

Neville grinned. "I was in the library, believe it or not," he said. "Just looking around. Now that I can actually see the books..." He tapped his new glasses for emphasis, then pushed them up the bridge of his nose. "I noticed a lot of books I'd never seen before. Here, Hermione," he added, moving over to the fireplace. "I found a book that's right up your alley—big, thick, heavy, and old." With a thud, he dumped a large red book with a black cloth spine on her lap. "I couldn't read the title, it was too faded and the light was too dim," he said, taking the mug of hot cocoa that Seamus handed him.

Hermione flipped it open to the back and looked at the number on the last page. She whistled. "Wow, that's a long book."

"It's a long night," said Seamus, settling back.

"What?" asked Hermione, confused.

Seamus grinned. "Might as well go ahead and read it to us," he said. "I mean, we're all stuck here anyway. We'd all like to hear it, and no one reads as well as you do."

Hermione squinted at the faded formerly orange title on the dusky, battered black cloth spine. Neville was right; the title was so faded even she couldn't see it. The book had obviously seen better days. The cloth spine was faded and fraying. It was possible that it had once been black, but it was now gray. The faded red cardboard cover had faded until it was almost pink. The corners looked bent and broken. They were peeling open slightly, and Hermione could see that inside they were white. The spine was peeling off of the ends of the pages, and cream-colored meshing could be seen inside. The pages were falling out, and it looked as though someone had fallen asleep on the book, which had resulted in the spine splitting open. Hermione shook her head at the mistreatment of the book, which she imagined was rather good. She opened it, read the title on the first page, and dropped the book in shock. The center pages fell out in a large clump.

It was Seamus's turn to ask "What?" although his "what" had a tone of curiosity rather than bemusement.

Hermione looked around. "The book...it's...well, Harry, remember this summer when I told you that there were Muggle books about you?"

Harry frowned bemusedly. "Yes..."

Hermione picked up the book, tucked the pages back into it, and held it up. "This is one of them. It's called Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire."

"Oh God," said Harry softly.

"Still want to read it?" Hermione asked.

The general consensus was "Yes", although Harry was a little hesitant about it.

"I don't know..." Hermione was running her finger down the table of contents. "Listen to some of these title names...The Riddle House...The Scar...Bagman and Crouch...The Quidditch World Cup...The Dark Mark...Mayhem at the Ministry...The Triwizard Tournament...The Four Champions...Rita Skeeter's Scoop...Padfoot Returns..."

"It doesn't really matter anymore," said Harry quietly. "So much has happened since then."

Hermione looked a bit surprised. "O-okay, but Harry, there's a couple more you should know about..." She ran her finger back down the list. "The Third Task...Flesh, Blood, and Bone...Priori Incantatum..."

Harry made an indistinct noise in his throat but nodded.

Hermione looked even more surprised than before, but she opened to the first page, cleared her throat, and began to read.

~~~

The villagers of Little Hangleton still called it "the Riddle house"

Dean: You can't start a story by saying you "still" called something that, unless the book is part of a series and it's continuing from before.

Seamus: And what is "it" anyway?

Hermione: Obviously, it's a house.

Neville: More specifically, the Riddle's house.

Dean: Yeah, but who are the Riddles?

Harry: They were a Muggle family, very rich, very uppity, and very anti-magic. Their grown son married a witch and divorced her before their son was born.

Dean: Ah. Why did their son divorce his wife?

Hermione: Because they were an-ti-ma-gic, Dean.

Harry: Actually, it's because she sort of duped him into marrying her.

Dean: Oh.

even though it had been many years since the Riddle family lived there.

Dean: Oh. That's why they said "still".

Hermione: And, besides, I already told you, this is a part of a series...sort of. I haven't read the first three books, though, so I wouldn't know if they talked about the Riddles last book or not.

Harry: Since it was our third year, most likely not.

Dean: Good point.

It stood on a hill overlooking the village,

Lavender: Sounds like the Malfoy manor.

Seamus: Now how would you know about that?

Lavender: I lived in the village it is situated above. *shudders* And Mum wonders why Kathleen and I never went out and play...

Neville: Who's Kathleen?

Lavender: My little sister. She's ten.

Dean: Will she be coming to Hogwarts next year?
Lavender: Maybe. Maybe not. I'm from a Muggle family, remember?

Dean: True. Very true.

Hermione: Besides, who knows if there'll even be a Hogwarts next year?

Dean: Also true.

some of its windows boarded, tiles missing from the roof, and ivy spreading unchecked across its face.

Neville: Although I think that if windows were boarded, roof tiles were missing, and ivy was creeping all over the front of the Malfoy manor, Mr. Malfoy would raise all hell.

Harry: He'd find a reason to anyway. He's that kind of person. And Malfoy would be in the middle of it.

Once a fine-looking manor, and easily the largest and grandest building for miles around, the Riddle house was now damp, derelict, and unoccupied.

Parvati: Hey, maybe this book is from the future, and it is talking about the Malfoy manor.

Ron: That's a great theory, Parvati, with only one tiny flaw. The house is the RIDDLE house, not the MALFOY house.

Parvati: Oh, right.

The Little Hangletons all agreed that the old house was "creepy".

Harry: Oh, great.

Half a century ago,

Harry: Here we go again! Another fifty-year-old problem concerning the Riddles! Why does history always pick fifty years to resurface and climax, especially if it involves Voldemort?

Ron: Because that's when you're around to get mixed up in it?

Harry: Shut up, Ron.

Seamus: Well, he's got a point.

Harry: Shut up, both of you. If I had my choice, I wouldn't get mixed up in this sort of thing at all.

Hermione: Ah, if only we had the choice in the matter of our destiny...

Lavender: They did in Minority Report. Have you ever seen that movie?

Hermione: Oh, yeah...great movie. And it was only those two guys who had the choice, because they'd seen their destiny and could change it.

Lavender: True...

Dean: And technically nothing changed. Remember, Tom Cruise or whatever the guy's name was had been seen murdering the guy with Agatha behind him...maybe they just interpreted the picture wrong.

Hermione: But the boss-man didn't kill the guy. He killed himself instead.

Dean: Well, that's true...okay, so it was about half right.

something strange and horrible had happened there, something that the older inhabitants of the village still liked to discuss when topics for gossip were scarce.

Ron: Oh, cut the build-up and tell us what's going on already!

The story had been picked over so many times, and embroidered in so many places, that nobody was quite sure what the truth was anymore.

Neville: That's okay, we'll know eventually. Books always explain everything in the end.

Hermione: Hear, hear!

Every version of the tale, however, started in the same place:

Dean: The Riddle House?

Ron: Most likely.

Fifty years before,

Harry: Lovely.

at daybreak on a fine summer's morning,

Harry: Even better. That's like asking for something strange and horrible to happen.

when the Riddle house had still been well-kept and impressive,

All: WE KNOW!!!

a maid had entered the drawing room to find all three Riddles dead.

Neville: *whimpering* Oh, lovely.

Harry: Neville, you don't know the Riddles. This is Voldemort's family...his father, I'm assuming, is one of them...his father is the reason he became who he is today...

Neville: *happily* Oh, lovely!

The maid had run screaming down the hill into the village

Ron: Well, duh. If you went screaming down a hill like a maniac, a hill overlooking a village, and ran into a forest or a lake, I would call you STUPID!!!

Dean: I would also call you LOST!!!

Hermione: I would also tell you to SHUT UP!!!

Ron/Dean: Sorry.

and roused as many people as she could.

Seamus: Which means pretty much everyone.

"Lying there with their eyes wide open! Cold as ice! Still in their dinner things!"

All: Euuuu...

Neville: I hope they aren't messy eaters, like I was before I got my glasses.

Ron: Well, they aren't now, obviously.

The police were summoned,

Seamus: *points poker at window* Accio Policeman!

and the whole of Little Hangleton had seethed with shocked curiosity and ill-disguised excitement.

Dean: How about a little remorse?

Nobody wasted their breath pretending to feel very sad about the Riddles,

Harry: Well, there you go.

Seamus: Why not, though?

for they had been most unpopular.

Ron: I wonder why?

Harry: They're Voldemort's father and grandparents. I wouldn't like them either.

Elderly Mr. and Mrs. Riddle had been rich,

Ron: Wish I had that problem.

snobbish, and rude,

Seamus: Personality problems that seem to come with limitless wealth. Look at Malfoy.

Harry: Um, hello? *waves hand in front of Seamus's face*

Seamus: Oh, sorry.

Hermione: I think what you mean is that consciousness of limitless wealth tends to bring along snobbishness and rudeness. You don't flaunt your wealth, Harry.

Parvati: I didn't even realize you had a lot of money.

Hermione: The defense rests.

and their grown-up son, Tom, had been, if anything, worse.

Ron: Tom? Isn't that You-Know-Who?

Harry: No, it's his father. His father abandoned him before he was even born because his mother was a witch, and his mother died just after he was born, so it can't be him anyway. That Mrs. Riddle was never "elderly". I think the elderly Mr. Riddle is his grandfather...I don't remember his name.

Ron: Oh.

Dean: How do you know all that, anyway?

Harry: Chamber of Secrets. Riddle told me. And Dumbledore and I saw a lot of his memories last year.

Dean: Oh.

All the villagers cared about was the identity of their murderer—for plainly, three apparently healthy people did not all drop dead of natural causes on the same night.

Dean: You never know. I've heard of freak accidents like those—chain reactions—

Hermione: No, I think You-Know-Who killed them in retaliation for abandoning him.

Dean: Sure, if you want the boring, obvious explanation...

Hermione: What on Earth is boring about murder?

The Hanged Man,

Parvati: Sounds ominous.

the village pub,

Parvati: Oh.

did a roaring trade that night; the whole village seemed to have turned out to discuss the murders.

Neville/Dean/Seamus/Harry/Ron: *turn to face outwards in perfect unison*

Lavender: You guys are mental.

They were rewarded for leaving their firesides when the Riddles' cook arrived dramatically in their midst and announced to the suddenly silent pub that a man called Frank Bryce had just been arrested.

Harry: Hey, he's the guy Dumbledore said disappeared in the village where You-Know-Who's father grew up!

Ron: Obviously, fifty years ago, he hadn't disappeared.

Harry: Well, no, Dumbledore said he only disappeared about three years ago. He said that...what was it? The year of Voldemort's ascent to power was marked with disappearances. Frank Bryce was first, then Bertha Jorkins...and then Mr. Crouch...

Hermione: I think I'll just keep reading now, if it's all the same to you.

Harry: Go right ahead, Hermione.

"Frank!" cried several people.

Seamus: *high-pitched voice* Frankie! *rolls down socks quickly and swoons*

Dean: Oh, Frankie! *swoons on top of Seamus, rolling down socks*

Neville: Frankie! *swoons onto the hearth, gets up quickly and puts the fire in his hair out*

Lavender/Parvati: Frankie! *swoon into each other, trying to discreetly roll down socks and pull their hair into pageboys*

Ron/Harry: Frankie! *swoon backwards off of chairs, taking chairs down with unpleasant thuds, and attempt to roll down socks before realizing that Harry is barefoot and Ron is wearing Winnie-the-Pooh slippers*

Hermione: If you've all finished your extended Frank Sinatra metaphor, let's get on with the book, shall we?

All except Hermione: Sorry. *adjust socks, with the exception of Neville (who is still nursing his singed hair), Harry, and Ron, and pick themselves up off the floor*

"Never!"

Frank Bryce was the Riddles' gardener.

Seamus: Ah, he's a merry plowboy.

Harry: He isn't that merry, friend.

Hermione: Why not?

Harry: Well, for one thing, he's just been arrested for murder. For another, he's dead.

Hermione/Seamus: Oh.

He lived alone in a run-down cottage on the grounds of the Riddle House. Frank had come back from the war

Neville: What war?

Hermione: Most likely World War Two.

Dean: Could've been World War One.

Seamus: Or—what were those American wars? The wars in Vietnam and Korea...

Hermione: The Korean War was in nineteen-fifty—it's three years shy of fifty years ago—and the Vietnam War was in the nineteen sixties, nineteen seventies. Besides, only Americans fought those. *checks copyright date in front of book* Well, the book's from the future—year 2000—so it could be Korea if he was American—hey, the book was published in New York City! Okay, it could be Korea. But it isn't Vietnam. The book's not old enough for that.

Harry: I doubt that it's Korea. They don't have "pubs" in America, they have "bars"—well, unless an Irish company owns the pubs. Besides, T. M. Riddle's father grew up in England. More than likely it's World War Two.

Ron: He's right.

Lavender: On top of that, the title is Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and if you assume they mean our fourth year this would be three years ago, which was 1994...

Seamus: Well, there is that...

with a very stiff leg and a great dislike of crowds and loud noises,

Dean: Ah, he's antisocial.

Harry: Well, let's see...he's coming back from WORLD WAR TWO...his experience with crowds probably involves large armies shooting one another, and his loud noise experience is probably guns and bombs. I would be antisocial after that, too.

Dean: You don't count. You're antisocial now.

Harry: Dean, I saw the only family I had murdered a year ago. Can you really blame me?

Dean: Sorry, I forgot.

Harry: *very quietly* Lucky you.

and had been working for the Riddles ever since.

There was a rush to buy the cook drinks and hear more details.

Harry: If she's anything like Hagrid, a few drinks and she'll tell 'em everything they could possibly hope to know, including what everyone in the household looks like naked.

Ron: I'd pay to hear that.

Dean: I second the motion!

Seamus: Sounds good to me.

Neville: Hear, hear!

Hermione/Parvati/Lavender: You boys are sick.

"Always thought he was odd," she told the eagerly listening villagers, after her fourth sherry.

Lavender: Which one?

Seamus: *sticks out his tongue* She means Frank Bryce.

Lavender: *innocently* Are you absolutely sure?

Seamus: Grrr...

"Unfriendly, like. I'm sure if I've offered him a cuppa once, I've offered it a hundred times. Never wanted to mix, he didn't."

Harry: With the Riddles? Neither would I.

Ron: I concur.

Hermione: *gasps* He knows big words! *ducks as Ron throws a pillow at her*

Parvati: *collapses in helpless giggles*

"Ah, now," said a woman at a bar, "he had a hard war, Frank. He likes the quiet life. That's no reason to—"

Parvati: Assume he wanted to kill the Riddles?

Lavender: Or assume he did kill them.

Harry: Or call him odd.

Neville: Or some combination of the three.

"Who else had a key to the back door, then?" barked the cook.

Ron: *barks*

Seamus: *starts barking along*

Neville/Harry/Dean: *bark with them*

Lavender: *starts to bark, then stops at the pained look on Hermione's face* Okay, cut it out, you guys.

"There's been a spare key hanging in the gardener's cottage far back as I can remember!

Neville: Since last night, then.

Ron: Why, Neville, I'm proud of you.

Neville: Oops, looks like I screwed up then. *ducks Ron-wielded pillow*

Parvati: *collapses in giggles again*

Nobody forced the door last night! No broken windows!

Harry: You can always use Alohomora to get inside something locked.

Hermione: True...

All Frank had to do was creep up to the big house while we was all sleeping..."

Dean: They were asleep while the Riddles were eating dinner?

Seamus: Jeez, it's so hard to find good service these days!

Neville: And how can someone with a bum leg 'creep'?

Ron: Very easily. Trust me. I've done it.

Neville: You don't have a bum leg.

Ron: Broke it once.

Hermione: I hate to tell you this, Ron, but there was no creeping involved after that...

Ron: Oh, shut up.

The villagers exchanged dark looks.

Dean: I'll give you this dark look *makes a face* for that one.

Seamus: Okay. Ron, I'll trade you this dark look *makes another face* for this one.

Ron: Okay. Neville, I'll let you—

Hermione: *makes a face that puts all other faces to shame*

Ron: Never mind. Hermione, I'll give you this dark look *smiles uncertainly* for that one.

Hermione: Grrr...

Harry: *very quickly* Go on, Hermione.

Neville: *throws arms over his head* Please don't eat me.

"I always thought he had a nasty look about him, right enough," grunted a man at the bar.

Seamus: A minute ago, they couldn't believe he'd do anything like that.

Parvati: People will believe anything if they think it'll win them friends.

Harry: Like that I'm the heir of Slytherin?

Parvati: Exactly.

Ron: Or that you entered yourself in the Goblet of Fire.

Neville: Or that you're insane.

Hermione: Or a combination of all three.

"War turned him funny, if you ask me," said the landlord.

Hermione: Please be quiet, boys.

Ron: Aww....

Parvati: *giggles a third time*

"Told you I wouldn't like to get on the wrong side of Frank, didn't I, Dot?" said an excited woman in the corner.

Boys: *crack up*

Parvati: *cracks up*

Lavender: *considers this line for a minute* EURGH! You guys are SICK!!!

"Horrible temper," said Dot, nodding ferverently. "I remember when he was a kid..."

Ron: Which was all of twenty years ago...

Neville: To old people, that's a long time.

Hermione: That's not very nice, Neville.

Harry: Besides, they never said it was a long time ago.

Hermione: An excellent point.

By the following morning, hardly anyone in Little Hangleton doubted that Frank Bryce had killed the Riddles.

Seamus: But he did, didn't he?

Hermione: I don't know. Let's find out, shall we?

Harry: No. I'm telling you, it was Voldemort.

Seamus: How do you know?

Harry: *very quietly* Because he told me.

But over in the neighboring town of Great Hangleton, in the dark and dingy police station,

Dean: This village doesn't even have a police station? Oh, Lord.

Seamus: Dean, think about what you said. This village...it probably doesn't even have a hospital, or a fire station...or a football team.

Dean: Whoa! No football team? That's really primitive.

Ron: It doesn't even have a town meeting house.

Harry: Yes, it does. What would you call the pub, then?

Ron: Oh, yeah.

Dean: Hang on, let's go back to the "no-football-team" aspect...

Hermione: If I may continue...

Frank was stubbornly repeating, again and again,

Seamus: That is how one normally repeats oneself.

Neville: Too true...too true...

Harry: Yes, exactly like that.

that he was innocent,

Hermione: Maybe he was.

Harry: Maybe?

Hermione: Okay, he definitely was. Sorry.

Harry: Apology accepted.

and that the only person he had seen near the house on the day of the Riddle's deaths was a teenage boy, a stranger, dark-haired and pale.

Harry: Definitely sounds like a young T. M. Riddle.

Neville: Oh, dear...

Nobody else in the village had seen any such boy,

Seamus: Well, Muggles aren't particularly observant, unless it comes to people lying in rooms with curtains open having...

Hermione/Lavender: That's sufficient, Seamus!

and the police were quite sure that Frank had invented him.

Hermione: Vulgar thoughts to yourselves, please, boys.

Seamus: *innocently* Vulgar thoughts? What vulgar thoughts?

Ron: Thanks for the idea, though.

Hermione: Me and my big fat mouth...

Harry: *glares at Ron and Seamus* It isn't your fault, it's theirs. Ron, go stand in the corner.

Ron: Well, I would, but it's kind of hard to walk with one's foot in one's mouth.

Harry: You opened it in the first place. It's your own fault.

Ron: All right, both feet in one's mouth!

Then, just when things were looking very serious for Frank,

Neville: There's no respect for war veterans anymore.

Seamus: Never was, never will be.

Neville: Shows what you know. It used to be they got loads of respect.

the report on the Riddles' bodies came back and changed everything.

Dean: They found two round marks by their neck?

Harry: "By their neck"? In the first place, don't you mean on, and second, they only have one collective neck?

Dean: Picky, picky, picky...

The police had never read an odder report.

Boys: *crack up*

Parvati: Now I have to agree, that's sick.

A team of doctors had examined the bodies

Boys: *continue to laugh*

Hermione: Eurgh!

and had concluded that none of the Riddles had been poisoned, stabbed, shot, strangled, suffocated, or (as far as they could tell) harmed at all.

Seamus: *unimpressed* Really.

In fact (the report continued, in a tone of unmistakable bewilderment),

Lavender: How can a written report sound bewildered?

Dean: Listen! D'you smell that?

the Riddles all appeared to be in perfect health—apart from the fact that they were all dead.

Dean: What could it be then?

Harry/Hermione: Avada Kedavra.

Dean: AACK! *jumps and looks behind him, arms flung over his face*

Harry: Dean, cool it. It's just us.

Dean: *relaxing* I knew that

The doctors did note (as though determined to find something wrong with the bodies) that each of the Riddles had a look of terror upon his or her face—

Seamus: What good's that going to do? Whoever heard of three people being frightened to death?

but as the frustrated police said, whoever heard of three people being frightened to death?

Neville: I think Seamus's been. Look.

Seamus: *faints*

Dean: Nah, he's faking it. Get up, Seamus.

Seamus: ...

Dean: Seamus?

Ron: I think it's the real deal, Dean.

Parvati: In that case we should kick him until he wakes up.

Seamus: *sits bolt upright* Gotcha!

Parvati: *begins kicking Seamus in the side*

Seamus: Hey! Hey, stop that! That hurts!

Parvati: You deserve it, you little faker.

Hermione: Um, guys? *holds up the book*

Parvati/Seamus: Oh, right! *sit down*

As there was no proof that the Riddles had been murdered at all,

Seamus: Which they were, but who would expect Muggles to know about curses?

the police were forced to let Frank go.

Harry: See, he has to be innocent. He's a Muggle, and the Riddles were cursed to death.

Ron: Prove it.

Harry: No marks, no evidence of death apart from being dead...

Dean: Well, what if there was lab equipment, computations, experiments, theoretical scribblings...

Harry: What would that mean?

Dean: Curiosity killed the cats. *is whacked by a pillow wielded by Harry*

The Riddles were buried in the Little Hangleton churchyard,

Ron: Regular churchgoers?

Harry: Most likely the only graveyard in the village.

and their graves remained objects of curiosity for a while.

Dean: Resulting in many dead cats. *ducks pillow flung by Harry*

Hermione: Yes, Dean, but you do know the end of that poem, don't you?

Dean: No.

Hermione: Satisfaction brought 'em back.

Dean: Ah. I see. So the Riddles either weren't curious about anything, or they didn't finish any experiments.

Hermione: *rolls her eyes* Never mind, Dean.

To everyone's surprise,

Parvati: Not ours.

Ron: Yeah, at this point I don't think anything would surprise me.

and amid a cloud of suspicion,

Ron: Huh. Didn't know suspicion was visible.

Dean: Oh, yeah, sure. *makes suspicious look*

Ron: Ah.

Hermione: That's in solid form. In vapor form—you know, what would've formed a cloud—it looks like this. *takes out wand, mutters something, black mist hovers over them*

Ron: I see.

Hermione: *removing the spell* Literally or figuratively?

Ron: Exactly.

Frank Bryce returned to his cottage on the grounds of the Riddle house.

Hermione: Well, if it's his cottage, I think he has a right to stay in it!

Harry: Yeah, but people are going to talk. I mean, they think he killed them, even if the police can't prove it, and if he moves onto the grounds they'll think he killed them to get some privacy, or their belongings...

Ron: You seem to have this pretty well worked out, Harry...

Harry: I've seen this sort of thing before.

"'S far as I'm concerned,

Seamus: Which probably is about as far as I could throw myself...

Dean: Or as far as I could spit a rat...

Ron: Or as far as the distance between my fingernail and my finger...

Seamus: *impressed* That's a good one.

Ron: Thanks.

he killed them,

Harry: See?

and I don't care what the police say," said Dot in the Hanged Man.

Dean: This the woman who wouldn't like to get on the wrong side of Frank?

Harry: No, this is the woman who remembers when he was a kid.

Dean: Ah.

"And if he had any decency, he'd leave here, knowing as how we know he did it."

Neville: But he didn't do it.

Lavender: Maybe they're the ones with no decency.

Neville: Agreed.

Dean: Can you in fact prove that You-Know-Who did it?

Harry: Dean, how's this for proof? Voldemort told me he did it.

But Frank did not leave.

Ron: I don't blame him!

He stayed to tend the garden for the next family who lived in the Riddle House, and then the next—for neither family stayed long. Perhaps it was partly because of Frank that the new owners said there was a nasty feeling about the place,

Harry: Or it could have to do with the fact that the most evil Dark Wizard for a century's father lived there...

Ron: Or it could have to do with the fact that three people were MURDERED within its walls...

which, in the absence of inhabitants, started to fall into disrepair.

The wealthy man who owned the Riddle House these days neither lived there nor put it to any use;

Ron: Then why does he want it?

They said in the village that he kept it for "tax reasons," though nobody was very clear what these might be.

Harry: Does that answer your question, Ron?

Ron: Not really. I'd like to know what those "tax reasons" are. But for now, I'm satisfied.

Hermione: *tuts impatiently* He keeps the house because when you turn in your tax forms, you get paid a certain amount of money for everything you own. If he keeps the crumbling old house he gets more money. That's what they mean by tax reasons.

Ron: Oh.

The wealthy owner continued to pay Frank to do the gardening, however.

Hermione: Well, it's nice to know somebody cares about Frank's well being...

Neville: *nods fervently*

Frank was nearing his seventy-seventh birthday now,

Neville: So that means that—hang on--*grabs piece of parchment and begins scribbling* he was twenty-seven when the Riddles were killed. He must've been an awfully young soldier. Lessee...fifty years from 1994...that would've been 1944. He must've come back from the war early because of his leg...probably around '42 or '43...so he would've been twenty-five or twenty-six.

Hermione: Or very nearly so.

very deaf, his bad leg stiffer than ever, but he could be seen pottering around the flower beds in fine weather, even though the weeds were starting to creep up on him, try as he might to suppress them.

Dean: Well, looks as though he's still got some of that ol' fighting spirit left over from the war.

Seamus: I admire that.

Weeds were not the only things Frank had to contend with either.

Hermione: Uh-oh...

Boys from the village made a habit of throwing stones through the windows of the Riddle House.

Lavender: *sighs* Boys will be boys...

Seamus: And yet you keep scolding us.

Lavender: I did not intend to imply approval, merely to convey a sense of hopelessness.

Seamus: Um...okay, sure.

They rode their bicycles over the lawns Frank worked so hard to keep smooth. Once or twice, they broke into the old house for a dare.

Parvati: Little brats.

They knew that old Frank's devotion to the house and grounds amounted almost to an obsession, and it amused them to see him limping across the garden, brandishing his stick and yelling croakily at them.

Seamus: *angrily* Basically, they like teasing him.

Harry: *tuts* Kids today...

Dean: Street urchins.

Ron: Ought to be arrested.

Neville: Has it occurred to anyone that if Frank wanted them arrested, he'd call the police?

Ron: Probably doesn't trust the police. In that case, their fathers ought to beat them soundly.

Neville: Their fathers probably think he's a murderer, too.

Ron: Oh, stop being so damned logical.

Frank, for his part, believed the boys tormented him because they, like their parents and grandparents, thought him a murderer.

Neville: Told you.

Seamus: Y'know, Neville, you're not as dumb as you look.

Neville: If it's all the same to you, I'll go ahead and take that as a compliment.

So when Frank awoke one night in August and saw something very odd up at the old house,

Seamus/Ron/Dean: *laugh*

Neville: Cut it out, guys. The joke's dead.

Dean: No. I like being disgusting and irritating the heck out of the girls.

Harry: You would.

Dean: *sticks his tongue out at Harry*

Lavender: You stick that thing out again, and I'm going to cut it off.

Dean: *draws his tongue back into his mouth hurriedly*

he merely assumed that the boys had gone one step further in their attempts to punish him.

Harry: *shakes his head sadly* A fatal assumption.

Neville: Fatal? How so?

Harry: Keep—keep going, Hermione.

It was Frank's bad leg that woke him; it was paining him worse than ever in his old age.

Ron: Does his leg have anything else to do with this story?

Hermione: *reading ahead* Uh, yeah, a little.

He got up and limped downstairs into the kitchen with the idea of refilling his hot-water bottle to ease the stiffness in his knee.

Ron: Ah.

Standing at the sink, filling the kettle, he looked up at the Riddle House and saw lights glimmering in its upper windows.

Ron: What is it?

Frank knew at once what it was.

Seamus: Well, we'd like to know.

Harry: *murmurs* A fire in the grate of one of the rooms...

Seamus: *surprised* How d'you know that?

Harry: Let's all just shut up for a little while, shall we?

Neville: Yeah, okay.

The boys had broken into the house again, and judging by the flickering quality of the light, they had started a fire.

Frank had no telephone,

Seamus: *opens mouth, sees Harry's face, closes mouth*

and in any case, he had deeply mistrusted the police ever since they had taken him in for questioning about the Riddles' deaths.

Neville: *triumphantly* I told you so. *sees Harry's face* Sorry. I'll shut up now.

He put the kettle down at once, hurried back upstairs as fast as his bad leg would allow, and was soon back in his kitchen, fully dressed and removing a rusty old key from its hook by the door.

Dean: A rusty old key? What for?

Lavender: The house, I assume. Now shut up.

Dean: Sorry. I forgot.

Seamus: *mutters* Didn't we all...

Lavender: Hush!

He picked up his walking stick, which was propped against the wall, and set off into the night.

The front door of the Riddle House bore no sign of being forced, nor did any of the windows.

Seamus: *glances at Harry* Can we talk now?

Harry: *nods wordlessly*

All but Harry: Alohomora.

Frank limped around to the back of the house until he reached a door almost completely hidden by ivy, took out the old key, put it into the lock, and opened the door noiselessly.

Neville: Hang on. How can a door that hasn't been used for fifty years open noiselessly? Wouldn't the hinges be rusty? Wouldn't they squeak?

Hermione: Not if Frank oiled them regularly.

Neville: But if the door was hidden by ivy, how could he oil the hinges?

Lavender: Maybe the ivy oils the hinges—kind of like a natural grease.

Hermione: That could be it. Or maybe the book means that Frank didn't make any noise, but the door did.

Neville: Somehow I doubt that. The ivy seems a little more logical.

Hermione: *innocently* But, of the holly and the ivy, when they are both full grown, of all the trees that are in the woods the holly bears the crown.

Neville: Isn't that a Christmas song?

Hermione: Yup.

Neville: Thought so.

He let himself into the cavernous kitchen.

Dean: *thoughtfully* A kitchen in a cave...sounds primitive, down-to-earth...I like it! I'm going to remodel my kitchen when I get home.

Seamus: Your mother will kill you.

Dean: Then you'll come to my funeral, right?

Seamus: If only to say I-told-you-so...

Dean: Fair enough.

Frank had not entered it for many years; nevertheless, although it was very dark, he remembered where the door into the hall was, and he groped his way towards it, his nostrils full of the smell of decay,

Neville: Euuu...

ears pricked for any sound of footsteps or voices from overhead.

Seamus: Sounds like a horse.

Dean: Or a cat.

Ron: Or a cow.

Neville: Or a dog.

Parvati: Some kind of animal, at any rate.

Lavender: With ears that move on their own.

Hermione: Which is pretty much any animal apart from humans, bugs, and birds.

Lavender: True...

He reached the hall, which was a little lighter owing to the large mullioned windows on either side of the front door,

Seamus: What does "mullioned" mean?

Hermione: *pulls out dictionary, flips pages* Well, a "mullion" is a slender, vertical dividing bar between the lights of windows, doors, etc. So I guess "mullioned" means that they have them.

Seamus: Ah.

and started to climb the stairs, blessing the dust that lay thick upon the stone, because it muffled the sound of his feet and stick.

Dean: Hey, what walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at—

All but Dean and Harry: Man.

Hermione: Dean, that riddle is about the oldest riddle in existence.

Dean: No, the oldest Riddle in existence is You-Know-Who.

Hermione: *rolls eyes*

On the landing, Frank turned right, and saw at once where the intruders were:

Seamus: How did he know to turn right?

Neville: Some sort of sixth sense. Either that, or he knew that's where the light was coming from.

Dean: Or it could be that the left was a dead end...

Harry: Well, actually, the right is a dead end too...

Dean: What was that?

Harry: *quickly* Nothing.

At the very end of the passage a door stood ajar,

Seamus: Hey, when is a door—

Lavender: When it's ajar. We've heard that one before too.

Seamus: Well, why do seagulls fly over the sea?

Lavender: *sighs* I don't know, Seamus...

Seamus: Because if they flew over the bay, then they would be bay-gulls!

Hermione: *pegs him with a marshmallow*

and a flickering light shone through the gap, casting a long sliver of gold across the black floor. Frank edged closer and closer, grasping his walking stick firmly. Several feet from the entrance, he was able to see a narrow slice of the room beyond.

Dean: Well, what's in it?

Harry: *begins to turn pale*

The fire, he now saw, had been lit in the grate. This surprised him.

Parvati: Why?

Lavender: Well, he figures if the boys broke in, they'd set a fire somewhere else, just to spite Frank.

Parvati: Ah.

Then he stopped moving and listened intently, for a man's voice spoke within the room; it sounded timid and fearful.

Harry: *turns paler still*

"There is a little more in the bottle, My Lord, if you are still hungry."

Seamus: His lord's a baby?

Ron: Or a heavy drinker.

"Later," said a second voice. This too belonged to a man—but it was strangely high-pitched, and cold as a sudden icy blast of wind.

Hermione: *alarmed* What's the matter, Harry?

Harry: *shakes head wordlessly, motions for her to go on*

Something about that voice made the sparse hairs on the back of Frank's neck stand up.

Ron: Well, whose voice is it? *Oddly enough, no one had any smart-ass comments about this one*

Hermione: I dunno.

Ron: Well, then, who's he talking to?

Hermione: *reads ahead a little, hands shake* I'll tell you, but you won't like it...

Seamus: Well, go on then!

Dean: Yeah, we want to hear!

Neville: Come on, tell us!

All but Harry and Hermione: *chant* Tell us! Tell us! Tell us!

Hermione: All right! All right! Just...shut up!

"Move me closer to the fire, Wormtail."

"WHAT?" snarled Ron angrily. Hermione held the book over her head in self-defense while Harry hastened to placate his friend.

"Ron, calm down, you knew it was going to happen..."

"Doesn't make it easier," Ron snapped at Harry, making Harry jerk back as though he'd been slapped. His clear emerald eyes betrayed the pain he obviously felt at his friend treating him like that, though he said nothing.

As Hermione tried to think of a way to calm Ron down, they heard a voice behind them. "Ronald Weasley, what on Earth are you up to?"

"Ginny! I thought you went home!"

Ginny grimaced. "Yeah, well, Mum's got the flu, Fred and George are either taking care of her or working the joke shop, Bill's off with Fleur, Charlie's still in Romania, Dad couldn't get off, you and Percy are still here, and I'm just getting in the way, so I thought I'd come back." She moved closer to the fire as Dean conjured up another mug. "Hey, did you know that there's only one other person here? Luna's sitting by herself down in the library."

There was silence for a moment as everyone considered what Ginny had said. Finally, Harry said, "You know, we always change the password right after the holidays. Maybe someone should talk to McGonagall..."

"I'll go," Ginny said, standing up and exiting the portrait hole. In the time it took Seamus to bring the fresh kettle of water to a boil, by the time Dean had transfigured a new mug and added the powder, almost before the pumpkin pie Hermione had slid in the fire earlier was finished, Ginny had returned with her absent-minded Ravenclaw friend in tow.

"She thought it was a great idea," Ginny reported, sliding back into her seat and taking her mug from Dean. "Thanks. She also said that if you want to stay here the whole break, that's fine with her," she added to their guests.

"Thank you kindly," Luna said, taking a seat and accepting the mug she was passed.

"Pumpkin pie?" Hermione offered, turning down the corner of the already dog-eared book and slicing the pie. "It's homemade."

"Certainly," Luna said, taking a slice. Ginny accepted one as well. The rest of the pie was passed around as Luna looked uncertainly around the fireside. "Are—are you all sure you want me to be here?"

"Of course," Harry said warmly. "No one should have to be alone on Christmas."

Luna smiled serenely and "So...what are you all doing anyway? Ginny just said Ron was fuming in the middle of the room and the rest of you looked scared of him..."

Ron, who was still standing, grinned sheepishly and took his seat. "We're...um...reading a book," he said sheepishly.

Between the eight of them, the Gryffindor seventh years explained what was going on, more or less word-for-word, up until the point when Ginny had walked in. Ginny was pure enthusiasm. Luna smiled vaguely.

Once she was satisfied that everyone was seated and comfortable, snacking on their pumpkin pie (with whipped cream Dean had conjured up) and sipping their hot chocolate (containing marshmallows that had come with the powdered cocoa), Hermione reopened the book and began to read.

Frank turned his right ear to the door,

Seamus: Why?

the better to hear.

Seamus: Oh.

There came the clink of a bottle being put down upon some hard surface,

Ron: *a bit angrily* Wormtail's head?

Harry: That wouldn't be a clink, it would be a kind of ringing sound, like striking a bell with a mallet.

Ron: Good point.

and then the dull scraping noise of a heavy chair being

Dean: Used to mop the floor with Wormtail.

Ron: *surprised* Nice shot.

Dean: Thanks. Learned it from my dad.

dragged across the floor. Frank caught a glimpse of a small man, his back to the door,

Ron: Smart man.

Neville: Ron, will you give it a rest?

Hermione: *mutters* Maybe next time we should read the abridged version...

Ginny: The abridged version? What's that?

Hermione: It's a shortened version of a longer book.

Lavender: Is there an abridged version of this book?

Hermione: Probably. Somewhere.

pushing the chair into place. He was wearing a long black cloak, and there was a bald patch at the back of his head. Then he went out of sight again.

Ron: *opens mouth*

Neville: Out of sight and out of mind, if you please, Ron.

Ron: *closes mouth*

Hermione: Thank you, Neville.

Neville: Welcome.

Ginny: Is this why he was standing when I came in?

Luna: And when I came in, for that matter.

Hermione: Yeah, we'd just found out it was Wormtail.

Luna/Ginny: Ah.

"Where is Nagini?" said the cold voice.

Seamus: For that matter, who is Nagini?

Harry: A very, very, very big snake.

Neville: *knowingly* Dark wizards like snakes. The bigger the better.

Harry: I'd noticed.

"I—I don't know, My Lord," said the first voice nervously.

Dean: You always ought to keep track of your women, even if they are snakes.

Luna: *collapses in shrieks of hysterical laughter* That's funny!

Dean: Um...okay. *to others* Is she...um...um...*taps side of head as he searches for words*

Ginny: No.

Dean: Oh.

Seamus: He's right, you know. Beware of loose women.

Dean: Do you know how undeniably wrong that sounds, Seamus?

All: *ponder this for a minute* EURGH! DEAN!

Dean: What? He said it! *points to Seamus*

All: *turn to Seamus* EURGH! SEAMUS!

Seamus: Oh, sure, blame the bat, what the heck, we're easy targets.

"She set out to explore the house, I think..."

"You will milk her before we retire, Wormtail," said the second voice.

Parvati: Ah, she's a cow.

Hermione: This is Nagini, not Rita Skeeter.

Parvati: I still think it's a cow.

Neville: Or a goat.

Dean: Or a camel.

Ron: Or a donkey.

Seamus: Or a sheep.

Ginny: Can you in fact milk a sheep?

Seamus: Well, why not? If it's lactating you can milk anything.

Ginny: Um, ew.

Hermione: Harry's right, it's a snake.

Seamus: But...how do you milk a snake? They don't lactate...the babies eat rats and squirrels and chipmunks and the occasional fruitcake...

Lavender: *under her breath* Like you, you mean?

Harry: 'Milk' being a general term. I think he's after the venom the snake provides.

Parvati: You seem to know a lot about this...

Harry: You'll find out why.

Ron: So, go on, how do you milk a snake?

Harry: You grab it behind the head so it opens its jaws, then you stick its fangs into a piece of rubber stretched across the top of a jar. The venom drips into the jar.

Dean: Um, ew.

"I will need feeding in the night. The journey has tired me greatly."

Neville: I thought there was more in the bottle...

Ron: Not much. Not enough, anyway.

Seamus: *waves his hand* Question!

Harry: To make a potion that will help him restore his strength and come back to full power.

Seamus: Um...thanks...but I didn't even ask my question.

Harry: Believe me, you didn't need to.

Brow furrowed, Frank inclined his good ear still closer to the door, listening very hard.

Dean: I agree. Listening very hard indeed. Listening too hard for me.

Hermione: Thank you, Yoda.

Ron/Ginny/Parvati: Huh?

Hermione: *like they are total cultural morons* Yoda. A little short green guy from the Star Wars movies...old and arthritic...talks like Gollum from the Lord of the Rings saga...*notices blank faces and sighs with an air of impatience and superiority*...who talks like the house-elves down in the kitchens...

Ron/Ginny/Parvati: Ah.

There was a pause, and then the man called Wormtail spoke again.

Ron: How about that? A talking chicken!

Hermione: Ron, cool it already!

Lavender: And anyway, what's so unusual about that? We're sitting in the same room as a talking fruitcake.

Seamus: Hey!

Lavender: You know, you just admitted yourself to be a fruitcake. I never mentioned you or looked in your direction.

Seamus: Oops.

Hermione: *to Ginny and Luna* This sort of thing happens a lot.

Ginny: What, the rampant stupidity?

Hermione: Actually, I was thinking about the genial ribbing, but the rampant stupidity works too.

Seamus: HEY! *throws pillow at Hermione*

Hermione: *laughs and ducks, using book as a shield*

"My Lord, may I ask how long we are going to stay here?"

Neville: *as Voldemort* As long as I feel like it, Wormtail. *as himself again* By the way, Harry, I forgot to mention it earlier...welcome back to the world of people with voices.

Harry: Remember, with this book I am subject to slip out again at any time.

"A week," said the cold voice. "Perhaps longer.

Harry: I would definitely say a bit longer. The World Cup isn't even a week away yet...wait a minute...no, it's only about two days. Sorry.

Ron: What are you apologizing to us for?

The place is moderately comfortable,

Dean: ...For a place that's been rotting for half a century...

and the plan cannot proceed yet.

Seamus: What plan?

Neville: Why not?

It would be foolish to act before the Quidditch World Cup is over."

Neville: Why?

Seamus: Act on what?

Frank inserted a gnarled finger into his ear and rotated it.

Ron: Neville, if you ask why, so help me God...

Ginny: *winking at Neville* Why?

Ron: *gets up and begins banging head on the wall*

Neville: *laughs* Thanks, Ginny.

Ginny: *innocently* Haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about.

Ron: *dazedly* Can I sit down now?

Hermione: Sit. Now.

Ron: Yes, ma'am. *sits down, rubbing head distractedly*

Owing, no doubt, to a buildup of earwax, he had heard the word "Quidditch",

All: Yep.

Neville: Except it wasn't due to the earwax. It was really said.

which was not a word at all.

All: *despairingly* Muggles!

"The—the Quidditch World Cup, My Lord?" said Wormtail.

Dean: *as Voldemort, though they don't exactly know it's Voldemort yet* No, Wormtail, the US Open.

Luna: *opens mouth*

Hermione: That's a tennis match, isn't it?

Dean: *nods*

Luna: *closes mouth*

Ron: What's tennis?

Hermione: *huge gasp* What's tennis? What's tennis? Only THE second-coolest sport in the Muggle world, involving hitting a ball across a net with a racquet, back and forth, back and forth—

Dean: And Venus and Serena Williams. Rrowl.

Hermione: *rolls eyes*

Ron: What's the coolest sport?

Dean/Hermione/Harry/Seamus: Football.

Ron: Of course it is.

(Frank dug his finger still more vigorously into his ear.)

Parvati: Y'know, that's not exactly good for what little hearing he's still got...he could puncture his eardrum.

"Forgive me,

Harry: *as Voldemort, very, very quietly* You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget.

Ron: Whoa, deep.

Neville: Where'd you come up with that one?

Harry: Voldemort—

All except Harry, Hermione, and Neville: *wince*

Harry: --said it to one of the Death Eaters after the third task.

Draco: Ah. Which one?

Harry: Er...Avery, I think.

Draco: Fits. Bumbling idiot.

but—I do not understand—

Ron: How strange and unusual!

Lavender: Neville, are you related to this guy?

Neville: I dunno. What's his real name?

Hermione: Peter Pettigrew.

Neville: Yeah, right. He's dead.

Hermione: Believe me, Neville, he's very much alive.

Neville: No, I don't think he's of any relation to me.

Ron: *grimaces* Good.

why should we wait until the World Cup is over?"

Lavender: *as Voldemort* Because I want to watch, you dimwit! If we act before, they might call off the match!

"Because, fool, at this very moment wizards are pouring into the country from all over the world, and every meddler from the Ministry of Magic will be on duty, on the watch for signs of unusual activity,

Ron/Seamus/Dean/Neville (who understands perfectly): *laugh*

Lavender: *innocently* I thought the joke was dead...

Neville: Welcome to the afterlife.

Ginny: Do I want to know?

Hermione/Parvati/Lavender: No.

Ron: *whispers in Ginny's ear*

Ginny: *laughs*

checking and double-checking identities. They will be obsessed with security, lest the Muggles notice anything.

Boys/Ginny: *laugh harder—even Harry has joined in*

Hermione: *to Lavender* Well, if it's got Harry laughing again, I say let them have their joke for a little while. If it gets out of hand we'll do crowd control.

Parvati: *twirls wand between her fingers menacingly, glancing at the boys and Ginny*

So we wait."

Lavender: *crosses eyes and does fair impression of Ape from George of the Jungle when one of the bad guys ape-napping him--you know, the big fat bald guy wearing fifty pounds of black leather in the heart of the African jungle--said he suspected they were going around in circles* Duh...

Seamus: Well, why wait? I'd want to join in the fun!

Lavender: Y'know, I have a hot cup of cocoa in my hand...

Seamus: Point taken. I will now shut up.

Frank stopped trying to clear out his ear.

Parvati: Realized it was a pointless exercise, huh?

Luna: *unexpectedly chipping in* Exercise is good for you.

Parvati: Not when it involves digging into your ear.

Luna: *fixes Parvati with her eerie gaze* You're Padma Patil's twin sister.

Parvati: More accurately, she's my twin. I'm ten minutes older.

Luna: She thinks you don't like her. I heard her telling Lisa Turpin.

Parvati: *slightly indignant* What do you do, spend all your time listening to other people's conversations?

Luna: *completely serious* Only when the angels tell me to.

Parvati: The angels?

Luna: Yes. The angels with long green beards and wearing Dr. Scholl's footwear. They tell me things--when to listen to conversations, creatures that really exist and creatures that don't--and sometimes they even bring me messages from my mother.

Parvati: Can you prove these angels are really there?

Luna: *pulls out Dr. Scholl's sandal* This is one of their sandals.

Parvati: Um...Hermione? Can you just keep reading?

Hermione: Sure thing, Parvati.

He had distinctly heard the words "Ministry of Magic," "wizards," and "Muggles."

Lavender: Yep.

Plainly, each of these expressions meant something secret,

Ron: Not really. They're pretty straightforward...well, maybe not "Muggles", but a Muggle is just a non-magical person. Nothing cryptic about that, is there?

Ginny: Nope.

and Frank could think of only two sorts of people who would speak in code: spies and criminals.

Harry: Well, I won't deny that these two are both spies and criminals, or have been at one time or another...

Seamus: Explain.

Harry: Wormtail can turn into a rat. In fact, he was in our dormitory for three years, under the pseudonym of Scabbers.

Dean: *aghast* Ron's rat was Wormtail?

Harry: Yup. And the other man...well, I don't want to spoil the surprise...

Dean: Somehow, from the way you say that, I don't think I'm going to like this surprise.

Harry: Well, you never know...no offense.

Dean: Absolutely none taken.

Frank tightened his hold on his walking stick once more, and listened more closely still.

"Your Lordship is still determined, then?" Wormtail said quietly.

Neville: Looks like, doesn't it?

"Certainly I am determined, Wormtail." There was a note of menace in the cold voice now.

Dean: Ohh, I get it. He's Dennis the Menace!

Harry: Um, no.

Dean: Mr. Freeze?

Harry: *rolls eyes*

Ginny: Who the heck are those people?

Harry: Dennis the Menace was a comic-strip character with a nose for mischief. Mr. Freeze was one of the villains in a comic-book-turned-television-show called Batman.

Ginny: Ah.

A slight pause followed—and then Wormtail spoke, the words tumbling from him in a rush, as though

Seamus: They wanted to get as far away from him as possible.

Ginny: They were refugees from a Bulgarian gymnastics camp.

he was forcing himself to say this before he lost his nerve.

Ron: He probably was.

"It could be done without Harry Potter, My Lord."

Hermione glanced around the room. Seamus and Dean had stopped fooling around and sat stock-still. Ron was white as a sheet. Lavender and Parvati were clutching each other's hands. Neville was trembling violently. Ginny sank back in her chair, looking scared. Even Luna seemed to have been upset; she set down her cup of hot chocolate and looked at Hermione in concern.

Hermione herself was far too upset to continue reading. She began to close the book.

"Hey, stop!" said Harry suddenly, surprising everyone. "You'll lose the page."

"Well, I can't read this!" said Hermione in surprise.

Harry took the book gently out of her hands. "Then I will."

Hermione was looking at him in shock, as well as everyone else, when the portrait hole swung open again. The Fat Lady's testy voice could be heard. "In and out, in and out, in and out. I get no rest, I get no rest, I get no rest."

A tall redhead with pince-nez glasses walked towards the group and leaned over the back of Ron and Hermione's sofa. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Not really. We're reading is all, Professor," Draco said nervously.

"Perce? What are you doing here?" Ron asked, looking up at his brother.

Percy smiled at Ron, and at Ginny too. "Well, I've nothing to do, and McGonagall mentioned that Ginny had come back, so I came to say hello."

"Stay a while," Harry offered, gesturing to another empty seat that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. "Read along with us."

Percy grinned. "I will, but I must warn you, I can be a bit of a pervert when I want to be..."

"Oh, don't worry, you'll fit right in," Hermione assured him with a weak smile. "We--that is to say, the boys and your darling younger sister, as well as Parvati from time to time--can be quite nasty occasionally. And we've had some interesting revelations too."

"Such as?" Percy inquired, settling himself down in the rocker, which was situated between Luna's wooden chair and Hermione's armchair.

"Such as that Ron and I like each other," Parvati spoke up.

"Or that we're all perverts," Neville added with a small laugh.

"Or that I have the same sense of humor as you all do," offered Ginny.

Percy smiled slightly. "Well, in that case, we might as well begin."

Harry cleared his throat, found their place on the page, and continued reading.

Another pause, more protracted, and then—

Seamus: Protracted?

Hermione: Extended, lengthened, longer.

Seamus: Why does the book use such big words?

Neville: Seamus, I'm surprised. Any five-year-old child can understand such simple words...well, maybe not "mullioned".

"Without Harry Potter?" breathed the second voice softly.

Harry: Yes, without me. I'd rather be left out of your nefarious schemes if you don't mind.

"I see..."

Seamus: Most people do.

Ron: Blind people don't.

Draco: Neither does Cornelius Fudge.

Percy: Nah, he sees fine, he just doesn't care about or pay attention to what he sees. I was his secretary, remember?

Draco: Good point...

"My Lord, I do not say this out of concern for the boy!" said Wormtail, his voice rising squeakily.

Dean: He even sounds like a rat.

Harry: He is a rat. I once heard Lucius Malfoy say he has about the brain capacities...

Ron: Lucius Malfoy is smarter than I thought he was.

Percy: I've worked with him. He's evil, but what he lacks in morals he makes up for in intelligence.
Harry: Then he's got to be one of the smartest people alive.

Percy: Okay, maybe not EVERYTHING he lacks in morals. He can be pretty stupid when he wants to be.

Dean: Which is actually quite a lot of the time.

"The boy is nothing to me, nothing at all!

Harry: Wanna bet?

Ron: What do you mean?

Harry: Well, in our third year I saved his life, remember?

Ron/Hermione: Yeah...

Harry: Dumbledore said that saving a wizard's life creates a certain bond between them. Wormtail is, essentially, in my debt.

All: Ah.

It is merely that if we were to use another witch or wizard—any wizard—the thing could be done so much more quickly! If you allowed me to leave you for a short while—you know that I can disguise myself most effectively—

Ron: No shit.

I could be back here in as little as two days with a suitable person—"

Harry: You mean a witch or wizard who hates him? That means pretty much all of them...

Dean: Not the Death Eaters.

Harry: I said 'pretty much all', not 'all all'.

Percy: Wait. Back up and explain something. What's going on here?

Harry: Okay, well, we're reading a book called Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. We started out with a little history on the Riddle house--the Riddles are Voldemort's father and grandparents--and moved on to following their former gardener, a man called Frank Bryce, into the Riddle house fifty years after their murders because there were intruders in the house. The intruders are Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail, and a man he calls 'master' and 'My Lord', although I think at this point I'm the only one who actually knows who he is.

Percy: Oh, the book hasn't told us yet?

Harry: Nope. Anyway, in between we're taking jabs at Death Eaters in general and Mr. Malfoy in particular. We're also teasing each other mercilessly and making reference to extremely disgusting things that shouldn't be discussed in polite company.

Dean: Well, no one ever accused us of being polite company.

"I could use another wizard," said the cold voice softly, "that is true...."

Parvati: Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies.

"My Lord, it makes sense," said Wormtail, sounding thoroughly relieved now. "Laying hands on Harry Potter would be so difficult, he is so well protected—"

Seamus: *laughs weakly* Come on guys, laugh? Ha, ha? Funny? Okay, I'll shut up now.

Percy: I see what you mean, although at this point I really don't think it's very funny.

"And so you volunteer to go and fetch me a substitute?

Lavender: Yeah...so?

Dean: *ponders for a minute* Um, ew. Guys, think about that for a minute...

All: *think for a minute* EURGH!

Percy: Okay, now I seriously see what you mean. Thanks for the mental picture, Dean.

Dean: Any time, Professor.

Percy: *winces* Look, I know I'm the DADA teacher, but since we're not in class and I'm Ron's older brother you can call me Percy.

Dean: Sure thing, Professor--gyah, I mean Percy!

Percy: Good. Continue, Harry.

Harry: *salutes* Yes, Sir, Professor Weasley, sir!

Percy: Ahem...

Harry: Sorry, Percy. I'll just keep reading now.

Percy: Good.

I wonder...

Ron: Wonder what?

Hermione: *sings* As I wander out under the skies...

Lavender: *sings* How Jesus our Savior was able to die...

Harry: *sings* For poor hungry sinners like you and like I...

Hermione/Lavender/Harry: *sing* I wonder as I wander....out under the skies.

Neville/Parvati/Dean/Seamus/Ginny/Percy: *applaud* Bravo! Encore! Huzzah! Etc. etc. etc.

Ron: Um...could we just get on with the story?

Harry: Oh, okay.

perhaps the task of nursing me has become wearisome for you, Wormtail? Could this suggestion of abandoning the plan be nothing more than an attempt to desert me?"

Hermione: More than likely.

"My Lord! I—I have no wish to leave you, none at all—"

Harry/Ron/Hermione: Right...

"Do not lie to me!" hissed the second voice.

Parvati: Like I said. Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies.

Luna: *sings dreamily* That is what Miss Suzy said right before she died!

"I can always tell, Wormtail! You are regretting that you ever returned to me.

Ron: Wouldn't most people regret returning to somebody obviously evil? 'Cause we still don't know who it is yet...

Dean: Only if they had a heart.

Neville: And a soul—well, a functioning one.

Seamus: *begins humming underscore of 'Heart and Soul'*

Parvati: *begins humming melody of 'Heart and Soul'*

Hermione: *to Dean and Neville* Now look what you two did!

Dean/Neville: Sor-ry!

All: *leap on Seamus and Parvati and shove popcorn into their mouths until they stop singing*

I revolt you. I see you flinch when you look at me, feel you shudder when you touch me..."

Hermione: Seamus, shut up.

Seamus: I didn't say anything yet!

Hermione: Yet. So you admit you had a smart-assed comment in the works.

Seamus: Well, yes—I mean no—I mean—I ACKNOWLEDGE NO SUCH THING!!!!!

"No!

Seamus: See? Wormtail agrees with me.

Ron: And you take the side of an evil cretin?

Seamus: No, he took my side.

Ron: Then I'd advise you to switch sides, because you don't want the wrong sorts of people on your side. *glances at Percy* No offense.

Percy: Hey, now, I did switch sides. And I know you don't mean any offense, because I'd have to kill you if you did.

Ron: *gulps* I'm sure You-Know-Who could take care of that.

Hermione: *quietly* Don't even joke, Ronald.

Ron: Sorry.

My devotion to Your Lordship—"

Seamus: Is nothing more than a pathetic attempt to hide from the people who hate you.

Neville: Or cowardice.

Dean: Or possibly the worst he's ever had.

"Your devotion is nothing more than cowardice.

Ron: No, shit.

Harry: *gets out sheet of parchment, makes two tally marks*

Neville: That was what I said, wasn't it? Cowardice.

Percy: True...well, it wasn't hard to tell he was a whimpering lump of blubber, so...

Neville: Good point.

You would not be here if you had anywhere else to go. How am I to survive without you, when I need feeding every few hours?

Harry: You're not, that's the point.

Who is to milk Nagini?"

Ron: Um...you?

Hermione: If he can't even take care of himself, how can he milk a snake?

Ron: He isn't. Like Harry said, that's the point.

Hermione: Ah.

"But you seem so much stronger, My Lord—"

Harry: Not yet, he's not.

Lavender: Harry, who—

Harry: Just let me keep going on, okay?

"Liar," breathed the second voice. "I am no stronger,

Harry: Good!

and a few days alone would be enough to rob me of the little health I have regained under your clumsy care.

Neville: That's the whole point, don't you see?

Seamus: He might as well go out a hero.

Percy: Like the hero everyone thought he was...er...thirteen years ago.

Dean: Go for it, Wormtail! Leave him!

All: *chant* Leave him! Leave him! Leave him! Leave him!

Silence!"

*silence there is, instantly*

Wormtail, who had been sputtering incoherently, fell silent at once.

Hermione: Rather like everyone around here.

Neville: Oh, don't worry, we're coming back.

Hermione: *very quietly* Damn.

Ron: Hey, I heard that!

Hermione: *smugly* I know. *is slugged by about ten pillows simultaneously--even Percy has dropped his dignity and smacked her with one*

For a few seconds, Frank could hear nothing

Seamus: Owing to a large buildup of earwax.

but the fire crackling.

Parvati: Owing to the fact that he had ruptured his eardrum by digging for said earwax.

Percy: Or pushed said earwax up against his eardrum and filled it with the stuff.

Parvati: Or that...

Then the second man spoke once more, in a whisper that was almost a hiss.

Dean: He's a snake!

Harry: *glares fiercely*

Dean: What?

Hermione: I agree with him. *glares fiercely*

"I have my reasons for using the boy, as I have already explained to you, and I will use no other. I have waited thirteen years.

Neville: Wait. This is two years ago, and this guy has waited thirteen years for Harry....Oh, no.

Harry: *nods* Exactly.

Percy: *with sudden realization* Oh, crud.

Seamus: Would you smart folks mind telling us dumb jackasses what's going on?

Neville/Harry/Percy: Yes, we would.

Seamus: Damn.

A few more months will make no difference.

Seamus: Months? I thought they were only staying for a week!

Harry: They're going to stay somewhere else.

Seamus: Where?

Harry: At Crouch's, I think...

Percy: Mr. Crouch? Mr. Crouch would never have played host to anyone as evil as these men!

Harry: His son was a Death Eater, and at this point he was alive and functioning and living with his father under the control of the Imperious Curse and an invisibility cloak. These two went to Crouch's house and reversed it--Crouch was under the Imperious Curse and his son was free.

Percy: Oh. When was that?

Harry: Oh, before the school year...after the World Cup...remember when Moody's dustbins made a racket in the yard? That's when Crouch, Jr. went to his house and used a Polyjuice Potion to turn into Moody...

Percy: Eep.

As for the protection surrounding the boy,

Seamus: *laughs*

Harry: *through gritted teeth* Seamus, shut up.

I believe my plan will be effective. All that is needed is a little courage from you, Wormtail—

Harry: *glances at Percy and Neville nervously, then turns to Seamus* We the 'smart folks' have decided it's safe to tell you who it is now.

Neville: We have?

Seamus: Who is it then?

Harry: It's in the book.

Seamus: Well, read it already!

courage you will find, unless you wish to feel the full extent of Lord Voldemort's wrath—"

All but Harry, Hermione, and Neville: *flinch*

"My Lord, I must speak!" said Wormtail, panic in his voice now.

Harry: Everyone else panicked when he said his name too.

Seamus: It's okay, we're better now.

Harry: Damn. *ducks pillow Dean flings his way*

"All through our journey I have gone over the plan in my head—

Dean: *shrugs* So?

Ron: How? Don't you need a brain for that?

Percy: Did he leave it behind on his way to Albania?

Seamus: Moving so fast his tiny brain couldn't keep up and stayed put...it's probably down in Snape's dungeon now.

Neville: If not in a potion by now.

Seamus: Good point.

My Lord, Bertha Jorkins's disappearance will not go unnoticed for long, and if we proceed, if I murder—"

Harry: Me?

Ginny: More than likely.

Percy: Oh, how charming.

"If?" whispered the second voice.

Seamus: Who's If?

Percy: It's a poem by Rudyard Kipling. All I remember is 'If you can keep your head while those about you are losing theirs...' and the very end: '...you'll be a man, my son!'

Seamus: But that's a what, not a who.

Percy: Good point.

"If? If you follow the plan, Wormtail, the Ministry need never know that anyone else has died.

Neville: Nah, can't be you, Harry. The Ministry would know if you died...

Harry: Yeah. It's probably someone else, someone blocking his path to me.

You will do it quietly and without fuss;

Ron: Or else!

Seamus: *whimpering and fussing* But I don't wanna!

Percy: Un petite fromage avec du vin?

Seamus: Pardon me?

Percy: It's French. It means 'A little cheese with your wine?'

Seamus: Yes, please. Cheddar, if you will.

Percy: *rolls eyes*

I only wish that I could do it myself, but in my present condition...

Hermione: *as Voldemort* this one more person I'm trying to kill would probably kill me instead.

Come, Wormtail, one more death and our path to Harry Potter is clear.

Harry: Told you.

Seamus: So who're they after?

Neville: Could be Dumbledore...or Fudge...

Ron: Logical, except they're both still alive.

Dean: *under his breath* Unfortunately.

Ginny: *mutters* You'd better mean Fudge.

Dean: *mutters back* I do. Don't worry, sweetheart.

Ginny: *glares* Don't call me that, hotshot.

Hermione: *ignoring this* Well, who else died that year?

Harry: That's something I've never...*with sudden realization* Crouch!

Ron: Oh, right!

Percy: *very squeaky voice* Crouch died?

Harry: Yep. He was going to tell Dumbledore how he'd smuggled his son out of Azkaban, and that Voldemort was getting stronger, so Moody-who-was-really-Barty-Crouch-Jr. killed him, turned him into a bone, and buried him in front of Hagrid's hut.

Percy: Yikes. I never knew that.

Ron: *in a logical manner* Well, you do now.

I am not asking you to do it alone.

Seamus: Now that'd be pretty tricky.

Dean/Neville/Ron/Ginny/Percy: *crack up*

Harry: *grins reluctantly*

Hermione: What would be pre...oh. Shut up, Seamus.

By that time, my faithful servant will have rejoined us..."

Dean: And Wormtail doesn't qualify? I'd think that somebody who's nursed You-Know-Who back to something resembling health for x number of weeks should probably qualify as a faithful servant.

Seamus: Yeah, you'd think that, wouldn't you?

Lavender: *nods*

"I am a faithful servant," said Wormtail, the merest trace of sullenness in his voice.

Dean: See?

Ron: Yeah. Much as I so do not like him, you'd think he was faithful at least...

Hermione: Mmm...

"Wormtail, I need someone with brains,

Parvati: Well, that knocks him out.

Seamus: I still think he left them at Hogwarts.

Ron: I wondered what that squishy thing I stepped in at the end of our third school year was. I thought it was a rat turd, but it could've just as easily been rat brains.

Percy: *very politely* Pardon me, but...ew.

somebody whose loyalty has never wavered,

Lavender: That doesn't knock him out, does it?

Percy: I don't know. I don't think so.

and you, unfortunately, fulfill neither requirement."

Seamus: Apparently it does.

Ron: Well, he was in our dormitory for three years and never tried to kill Harry for You-Know-Who...

Percy: He was what?

Ron: Er...remember Scabbers? Yeah, that was Wormtail.

Percy: *horrified* I brought a cowardly evil dark wizard to school for four years--and then gave him to you? God, Ron, I'm sorry.

Ron: 'S all right. We didn't know. Besides, he probably had a good reason to...

Hermione: That's what Sirius said the night we found out about all this. He said Wormtail wasn't about to commit murder right under Albus Dumbledore's nose for a wreck of a wizard who'd lost all his power...

Harry: *chokes slightly, looks away*

Hermione: *guilty* Sorry, Harry, I forgot.

Harry: *hoarsely* It's okay...I think I'll just go on now.

Hermione: Go ahead.

"I found you," said Wormtail, and there was a definite sulky edge to his voice now.

Neville: Crybaby.

Dean: Neville, I would not be talking.

Neville: Hey!

Percy: Um...

Harry: *to Percy and Luna* See, we joke around with each other like this all the time. No big deal...but we don't really mean it.

Percy: Ah.

"I was the one who found you.

Seamus: Yes, we've established that!

I brought you Bertha Jorkins."

Parvati: Aha! The plot thickens!

Luna: Much like this whipped cream...

Dean: It's settling. Try eating it instead of just playing with it.

Luna: Okay.

"That is true," said the second man, sounding amused. "A stroke of brilliance I would not have thought possible from you, Wormtail

Ron: Me, either.

Harry: I second that.

Percy: I...uh...third the motion?

Ron: Works for me.

—though, if truth be told, you were not aware how useful she would be when you caught her, were you?"

Harry: Bertha Jorkins? Useful? Bagman said her memory was so poor she'd wander into the office some time in December, thinking it's still July.

Ron: Well, you never know. People with poor memories could be useful to You-Know-Who...

Seamus: He could like torturing them because they'd never remember he'd done it.

Dean: *stage whisper* There are other things he could like doing to people with poor memories...

Boys/Ginny: *crack up*

Parvati: *smacks Dean as hard as possible on the back of the head* YOU PERVERT!

Dean: Owww!

Hermione: Parvati, that really wasn't fair. If you're going to smack him, you have to smack all the boys and Percy too. Not to mention Ginny.

Parvati: Will you three help?

Luna/Lavender/Hermione: Okay.

Boys/Ginny: No! Stop! Don't! That's okay, etc.

"I—I thought she might be useful, My Lord—"

Parvati: Liar.

"Liar," said the second voice again, the cruel amusement more pronounced than ever.

Ron: Parvati, are you sure you're not related to You-Know-Who?

Parvati: I'd be in Slytherin, wouldn't I?

Harry: You'd think that, wouldn't you? Didn't stop the whole school from thinking I was the heir of Slytherin our second year, though...

Dean: I didn't.

Ron: Neither did I.

Hermione: I didn't either.

Ginny: Not me.

Percy: I don't think I thought so either, but I'm not sure. I think I spent most of the year worried about how pale Ginny was...

Ginny: *sticks her tongue out at Percy*

Harry: Thanks, all.

"However, I do not deny that her information was invaluable.

Harry: Information? Off Bertha Jorkins?

Neville: Voldemort must be going bonkers.

Without it, I could never have formed our plan, and for that, you will have your reward, Wormtail.

Seamus: Ah. So now he'll be a rich crybaby who's a poor liar.

Dean: World needs more of those...

Ron: ...in the graveyards...

Percy: ...with big metal tombstones that say 'extra cheese'.

Hermione: 'Extra cheese'?

Neville: Or 'pepperoni'.

Dean: *brightly* Or 'sausage'.

Lavender: Or 'supreme'.

Hermione: That's just silly.

Harry: *very sweetly* Well, what do you want on your Tombstone?

Hermione: I...oh. Oh, I get it now. Sorry, I'm a little slow on the uptake tonight.

I will allow you too perform an essential task for me, one that many of my followers would give their right hands to perform..."

Harry: He will, too...oops!

Ron: Oops, what?

Harry: *very quickly* Never mind. I said nothing.

All but Harry and Luna: *vaguely* You said nothing.

Harry: You will now be quiet and let me read more.

All but Harry and Luna: *vaguely* We will now be quiet and let you read more.

Luna: What are you people on about?

Harry: *quietly, to himself* Jedi mind tricks don't work on Ravenclaws...

"R-really, My Lord? What--?" Wormtail sounded terrified again.

"Ah, Wormtail, you don't want me to spoil the surprise?

Seamus: No, but we do.

Harry: Forget it, Seamus. You'll have to wait like the rest of us.

Seamus: *whining* How lo-ong?

Your part will come at the very end...

Seamus: Ah.

but I promise you, you will have the honor of being just as useful as Bertha Jorkins."

Neville: In this case crucial in the plot to kill Harry. In any other sense, totally useless.

"You...you..." Wormtail's voice suddenly sounded hoarse, as though his mouth had gone very dry. "You...are going...to kill me too?"

Lavender: Ding ding ding ding! Mr. Wormtail, you have just guessed the correct answer to the mystery question: What Happened to Bertha Jorkins? You have just won an all-expense paid one-way trip to Hell in a handbasket!

"Wormtail, Wormtail," said the cold voice silkily, "why would I kill you?

Ron: Don't even let me get started on that question.

I killed Bertha because I had to.

Neville: What? Did somebody paste a 'Kill Me' sign on her back or something?

Harry: Knowing the jokers at the Ministry, probably.

Percy: *coughs significantly*

Dean: I'm sure it wasn't you. Bet it was Lucius Malfoy.

She was fit for nothing after my questioning, quite useless.

Ron: Like Wormtail!

In any case, awkward questions would have been asked if she had gone back to the Ministry with the news that she had met you on her holidays.

Seamus: Hey, why is it that G-O-N-E is pronounced with a short 'o' and B-O-N-E is pronounced with a long 'o'?

Hermione: Seamus, that was completely random.

Seamus: *hangs his head* I know.

Luna: *looking up* Well, he has a point. If you think about it, the English language is completely weird. For example, the plural of 'louse' is 'lice' and the plural of 'mouse' is 'mice', but the singular form of 'dice' is 'die' and the plural form of 'house' is 'houses'. And the plural of 'goose' is 'geese' but the plural of 'moose' isn't 'meese', it's just 'moose'. And you have a bunch of steers, but you have herds of deer.

Hermione: *shrugs* English is illogical. Let's just leave it at that and go back to reading.

Wizards who are supposed to be dead would do well not to run into Ministry of Magic witches at wayside inns..."

Ron: You could have modified her memory.

Wormtail muttered something so quietly that Frank

Neville: Oh, yeah, I'd kind of forgotten about him.

Percy: Who is this guy again?

Ron: Frank Bryce. He used to be the gardener for the Riddles. Now he's the gardener for whoever owns the place. We all like him a lot and are rooting for him. Nobody else does. They all think he's a murderer—they think he killed the Riddles.

Percy: Poor guy.

could not hear it, but it made the second man laugh—an entirely mirthless laugh, cold as his speech.

"We could have modified her memory?

Ron: That's what I said. This is pretty creepy...

Hermione: *to Harry and Ron* Does this remind either of you of that story we read this summer?

Harry: You mean "I Am a Slug" by Morgana Malfoy?

Hermione: Yeah, that one.

Harry: Yup.

Ron: It's déjà vu all over again!

Percy: Morgana Malfoy?

Harry: The nom de plume of a writer of stories based on these books, called fanfic. We read a story called "I Am a Slug" and laughed all day.

Percy: What's it about?

Hermione: Er...actually, she made up Draco Malfoy's private diary.

Ginny: *looks up sharply* And why is it called I Am a Slug?

Harry: Because one of the more serious quotes--actually one of the few serious quotes--is "Actually, I am a slug, but if I laugh at the butterflies then I am making them as much slugs as I am, and because I have been a slug for so long, I am better."

Neville: *laughs* I love it. Wish I'd thought of it myself.

But Memory Charms can be broken by a powerful wizard, as I proved when I questioned her.

Harry: Hope no one decides to break the one on Lockhart...

Ron: No chance of that.

Lavender: *speaking for herself and Parvati* Did we really have a crush on that slimy, irresponsible git?

Boys: Oh, hell, yes.

Parvati: Yeerk.

It would be an insult to her memory not to use the information I extracted from her, Wormtail."

Ron: Oh, great. We've got a wanna-be comedian Dark Lord. He laughs as he kills you.

Harry: Well, yeah, he does, actually. Or when he tortures you, at least.

Hermione: Like the Joker from Batman.

Harry: Yes, except I can't see Voldemort killing someone with a jimmy-rigged joy buzzer.

Out in the corridor, Frank suddenly became aware that the hand gripping his walking stick was slippery with sweat.

Neville: Well, it is July...

Harry: Early August, actually.

Ron: Still pretty hot, though.

Harry: True.

The man with the cold voice had killed a woman.

Ron: Very good, Mr. Muggle. Bertha Jorkins is, in fact, a woman.

He was talking about it without any kind of remorse—with amusement.

Seamus: And this is unusual for You-Know-Who...how?

Lavender: Well, Seamus, Muggles don't exactly know about him...

He was dangerous—a madman.

All: Yep.

And he was planning more murders—this boy, Harry Potter, whoever he was—was in danger—

Harry: And in other late-breaking news...

Dean: Snow is white and the ocean is blue.

Neville: Rain is wet and it falls from the sky.

Seamus: We took our O.W.L.s two years ago.

Ron: Everybody in my family has red hair.

Hermione: Christmas is coming.

Lavender: We're in our seventh year.

Parvati: The Yule Ball was almost three years ago.

Ginny: We are all absolutely insane.

Luna: *looks around with wide eyes* My daddy is the editor of the Quibbler.

Percy: And Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater—well, actually, that is kind of late-breaking news.

Frank knew what he must do. Now, if ever, was the time to go to the police. He would creep out of the house and head straight for the telephone box in the village...

Seamus: *to Frank* Go for it, then!

Neville: He won't even leave that spot...and he won't leave the house alive.

Seamus: How much you want to bet on that?

Neville: Thirty galleons.

Seamus: You're on.

but the cold voice was speaking again, and Frank remained where he was, frozen to the spot, listening with all his might.

Neville: *smirks*

Seamus: He could still leave! Just wait!

"One more murder...my faithful servant at Hogwarts...

Dean: It's Snape!

Harry: *quietly* Believe it or not, it isn't Snape. I won't tell you who it is, but it's someone else.

Harry Potter is as good as mine, Wormtail. It is decided. There will be no more arguments. But quiet...I think I hear Nagini...

Ron: I don't.

Neville: Wow, you're really caught up in this, aren't you? Remember, Ron, it's just a book.

Ron: *blushes* I knew that.

And the second man's voice changed. He started making noises such as Frank had never heard before; he was hissing and spitting without drawing breath. Frank thought he must be having some sort of fit or seizure.

Harry: And, as usual, Frank thought wrong.

Ron: Why, what's he doing?
Harry: He's speaking Parsletongue, duh.

Percy: So he really can speak Parsletongue? I'd heard rumors, but I didn't know that he could actually...

Harry: Yep.

And then Frank heard movement behind him in the dark passageway. He turned to look, and found himself paralyzed with fright.

Ron: Or dead. Bet it's a basilisk.

Neville: Nah, I think it's just Nagini.

Ron: How do you know Nagini isn't a basilisk?

Harry: Trust me, Ron, she's not a basilisk.

Something was slithering toward him along the dark corridor floor, and as it drew nearer to the sliver of firelight, he realized with a thrill of terror that it was a gigantic snake, at least twelve feet long.

Lavender: Basilisks aren't that long, are they?

Harry: No. They're much, much longer. Believe me.

Percy: God knows I believe you.

Ginny: I've seen the basilisk's skin, so I believe you.

Ron: So did I, and so do I.

Horrified, transfixed, Frank stared as its undulating

Seamus: What does that mean?

Hermione: 'Undulating'? Moving in waves.

body cut a wide, curving track through the thick dust on the floor, coming closer and closer—

Ron: Oops. He's in for it now.

What was he to do? The only means of escape was into the room where two men sat plotting murder, yet if he stayed where he was the snake would surely kill him—

Neville: He'll never get out of this alive.

Seamus: He'll find a way.

Neville: Thirty galleons still say he won't.

Seamus: Get your money out.

But before he had made his decision, the snake was level with him, and then, incredibly, miraculously, it was passing; it was following the spitting, hissing noises made by the cold voice beyond, and in seconds, the tip of its diamond-patterned tail had vanished through the gap.

Seamus: Told you.

Harry: Reserve judgement till we finish the chapter, 'k?

Percy: Wait...diamond-patterned tail...isn't that a rattlesnake?

Hermione: Not necessarily. It could be a cottonmouth...or a python...

Harry: Pythons aren't venomous.

Hermione: There is that.

There was sweat on Frank's forehead now, and the hand on the walking stick was trembling.

Parvati: He's going to have a heart attack if he's not careful...

Inside the room, the cold voice was continuing to hiss, and Frank was visited by a strange idea,

Seamus: Hi, idea! Come on in! Boy, you're a strange one...

Lavender: Seamus, I would seriously not be talking.

an impossible idea...This man could talk to snakes.

Harry: *shrugs* What's so unusual about that?

Hermione: It's a very rare gift, Harry...

Harry: But what's strange and impossible about it?

Hermione: Okay, I'll give you that one.

Frank didn't understand what was going on.

Dean: Poor guy.

Neville: Lucky guy is more like.

Percy: I'd kill not to know what's going on.

He wanted more than anything to be back in his bed with his hot-water bottle.

Seamus: *to Frank* Hurry up, then! I've got thirty galleons riding on you doing just that!

The problem was that his legs didn't seem to want to move.

Neville: *smirks*

As he stood there shaking and trying to master himself, the cold voice switched abruptly to English again.

"Nagini has interesting news, Wormtail," it said.

"In-indeed, My Lord?" said Wormtail.

Ron: Indeed, yes. There is an old Muggle right outside your door listening to every word you say.

"Indeed, yes," said the voice. "According to Nagini, there is an old Muggle standing right outside this room, listening to every word we say."

Harry: That's according to Ron as well—almost word-for-word...

Dean: Two credible sources.

Ron: Since when are snakes credible sources?

Dean: To You-Know-Who they are.

Harry: Since when is Ron a credible source to You-Know-Who?

Dean: Er...Okay, you win.

Frank didn't have a chance to hide himself. There were footsteps, and then the door of the room was flung wide open.

Ron: Showtime.

A short, balding man with graying hair, a pointed nose, and small, watery eyes stood before Frank, a mixture of fear and alarm in his face.

Hermione: Yup, sounds like Wormtail all right.

Percy: *voice taking on a higher pitch* You've met him?

Hermione: Only once. The night he escaped and went back to Voldemort.

Harry: *quietly* I've met him twice...once that night, then again a year later...in the graveyard...

Hermione: *blushes* Sorry, Harry, I forgot...

Harry: Don't worry, it's okay.

"Invite him inside, Wormtail. Where are your manners?"

Seamus: In his pocket.

Lavender: *innocently* Is that where you boys keep your manners?

Seamus: *checks* Nope, just pocket lint.

Neville: *checks his pocket* I have a lot of sand in my pockets.

Percy: *peers into his pocket* Well, I've got Emily Post's Guide to Manners, but I don't seem to have any manners of my own...

Harry: *checks his own* Nothing in my pocket.

Ron: *checks his pocket* I don't even have any pockets.

Dean: *pulls something flat and black out of his pocket* Hey, look! I've got a 'hole' in my pocket!

Lavender: Harry, please keep reading before I am forced to kill him.

Harry: Just shove him through that hole in his pocket.

The cold voice was coming from the ancient armchair before the fire, but Frank couldn't see the speaker.

Neville: That's probably a bad thing.

Seamus: Harry, how much of this chapter is left?

Harry: *looks* Just two pages.

Seamus: Get your money out, Neville.

The snake, on the other hand, was curled up on the rotting hearth rug, like some horrible travesty of a pet dog.

Seamus: Travesty?

Hermione: *opens mouth*

Percy: *beating her to it* A crude, distorted, or ridiculous representation of something.

Seamus: Ah.

Hermione: *closes mouth*

Wormtail beckoned Frank into the room. Though still deeply shaken, Frank took a firmer grip upon his walking stick and limped over the threshold.

Seamus: Well, he's not dead yet.

Ginny: Yet. Why isn't that comforting?

The fire was the only source of light in the room; it cast long, spidery shadows upon the walls.

Ron: *shudders*

Frank stared at the back of the armchair; the man inside it seemed to be even smaller than his servant, for Frank couldn't even see the back of his head.

Neville: Yep, he probably is. Or he's slumped down in the armchair.

"You heard everything, Muggle?" said the cold voice.

Lavender: Pretty much, yeah.

"What's that you're calling me?" said Frank defiantly, for now that he was inside the room, now that the time had come for some sort of action, he felt braver; it had always been so in the war.

Ron: He's calling you a Muggle. M-U-G-G-L-E. It means you're not a wizard.

"I am calling you a Muggle," said the voice coolly. "It means that you are not a wizard."

Ron: Isn't that what I said?

All: *back away from Ron*

Harry: Are you sure you're not Voldemort in disguise?

Ron: I'm pretty sure.

"I don't know what you mean by wizard," said Frank, his voice growing steadier.

Ron: Wizard. You know, somebody who waves a wand and says magic words to make something happen? Pretty straightforward, isn't it?

"All I know is I've heard enough to interest the police tonight, I have. You've done murder

Harry: More than you think. In addition to Bertha Jorkins he's killed his father, his grandparents, my parents—

and you're planning more!

Neville: *as Voldemort* And for pissing me off, you're at the top of the list.

Ginny: I have a feeling that's eerily accurate.

And I'll tell you this too," he added, on a sudden inspiration, "my wife knows I'm up here, and if I don't come back—"

Dean: Impressive bluff.

Parvati: Methinks it shall prove futile...

Ron: "Methinks"? What arcane recess of your mind did you pull that one out of?

Parvati: *shrugs* I dunno. It was just kind of...there.

"You have no wife," said the cold voice, very quietly. "Nobody knows you are here. You told nobody that you were coming. Do not lie to Lord Voldemort,

All but Harry, Hermione, and Neville: *wince*

Muggle, for he knows...he always knows..."

Lavender: *shivers* That's kind of creepy. He knows all...

Dean: Like some kind of demonic Santa Claus.

Seamus: He sees you when you're sleeping...

Ron: *as Voldemort*...and for the love of God, put some pants on!

Percy: *half laughing, half shocked* Ronald Weasley!

Ron: Oops, sorry, Perce.

"Is that right?" said Frank roughly. "Lord, is it?

Harry: A self-bestowed title, I assure you.

Well, I don't think much of your manners, My Lord. Turn 'round and face me like a man, why don't you?"

Ron: *shudders* Bad idea, Frankie boy.

Percy: *sings in deep baritone* Oh, Frankie boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling...

All: *stare in shock*

Ginny: *scans her brother* Where do you fit that voice in such a tiny body?

Percy: *shrugs* I don't really know, it just kind of came out of left field.

"But I am not a man, Muggle," said the cold voice, barely audible now over the crackling of the flames.

Seamus: He's a woman?

Dean: Sure would explain a lot, wouldn't it?

"I am much, much more than a man.

Hermione: Ah, he's a hermaphrodite.

Seamus: He's a what?

Hermione: A hermaphrodite. Both a man and a woman.

Lavender: Eurgh! Hermione!

Hermione: Well, that's what they are. I'll have to hunt up the legend sometime for you.

Percy: That's okay, I know it. Hermaphrodite was the son of Aphrodite...I think, I'm not sure...anyway, some nymph fell in love with him and started kissing him. He was really shy so he tried to get away, but she called on the gods to join them forever and they were fused into one body, half-man, half-woman.

Lavender: Oh, that makes a little more sense. Thank you, Percy.

Percy: Any time.

However...why not? I will face you...Wormtail, come turn my chair around."

Parvati: I do not think I want to know what is on the other side of that chair.

The servant gave a whimper.

Percy: Like a scared puppy that had been kicked one too many times.

Harry: I'm kind of seeing The Outsiders here...

Percy: That's what I was thinking, too...except you can't really compare Johnny to Wormtail.

Harry: Quite true.

"You heard me, Wormtail."

Neville: We all heard you.

Slowly, with his face screwed up, as though he would rather have done anything than approach his master and the hearth rug where the snake lay, the small man walked forward and began to turn the chair.

All: No! Stop! Don't! etc.

The snake lifted its ugly triangular head and hissed slightly as the legs of the chair snagged on its rug.

Dean: The rug doesn't belong to her, it belongs to You-Know-Who. It belonged to his father, after all.

Harry: Try telling her that.

And then the chair was facing Frank, and he saw what was sitting in it.

Parvati: Uh-oh...

His walking stick fell to the floor with a clatter.

Ron: Guess he didn't need it so much after all.

He opened his mouth and let out a scream.

Seamus: *opens mouth and screams*

Ron: *covers his ears* SEAMUS! IN THE NAME OF HUMANITY, STOP!!!!!

Seamus: *continues screaming*

Percy: *bellows with his hands clamped over his ears* SEAMUS! FIVE HOUSE POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR FOR DISTURBING THE PEACE! NOW CUT IT OUT!!!!!

Seamus: *stops, ashamed* Sorry, everybody.

He was screaming so loudly that he never heard the words the thing in the chair spoke as it raised a wand.

Neville: Well, at least he recognizes a wand when he sees one.

All: Mmm...

There was a flash of green light, a rushing sound,

Percy: Oh, no...

and Frank Bryce crumpled. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Seamus: Here, Neville. *pushes thirty galleons into Neville's hand* You win the bet. Just take it.

Neville: *hesitantly* Th-thanks, Seamus.

Two hundred miles away, the boy called Harry Potter woke with a start.

Ron: Is that even related?

Harry: Yup.