Taming the Monster Within

Chapter 2 ~ The Ducati Monster

Harry dressed particularly fast, early in the morning, and hastily ran downstairs. He flew into the dinning room to find Mrs. Weasley talking to her husband before he left for work.

"Oh Harry dear, What are you doing up at such an ungodly hour?" She questioned him as she started to make a plate of breakfast for him.

"When can I go to see--" Harry asked as he tried to catch his breath.

"We just received an owl from Séraphine," she said pointing at a piece of parchment on the table. "All it says is she'll pick you up around nine-thirty so that you can meet Rubeus at ten."

Harry fell into the seat next to him; nine-thirty seemed like forever.

"Oh and she also said there's room in Rèmy's car for a few more, so you could bring Ron and Hermione with you if you lik" Mrs. Weasley finished as she fussed with his hair.

Harry felt a little better about the situation by being able to bring his two best friends with him, he thought as he took a bite out of his toast.

After he finished eating he wandered back up the stairs as he looked at his watch (5:57). He slowly opened the door so not to wake Ron yet. He must not have been careful enough, because Ron sat up quickly and shouted something about chess.

"Oh Harr-ry," Ron said through his yawn, "you're up already?"

"Yeah, for a while now."

"Are you anxious to see it?" He asked as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"You should be too," Harry said smiling at him.

"What? I get to come?" He asked surprised.

"Of course, and Hermione too."

"Hermione what?" Asked a willowy figure in the doorway. She had bushy hair and warm brown eyes.

"What are you doing up so early, Hermione?" asked Ron as he looked at his wristwatch.

"Couldn't sleep," she said vaguely.

"Now what is it you two were talking about?" She said a little bit more demanding than before, as she made her way towards Ron.

"Harry was going to invite us to go with him on his motorbike lesson," said Ron obviously not comfortable with fully dressed Hermione sitting on his bed when he was only in his pajamas.

"Oh," she said looking down at her shoes.

"It's at Séraphine's house so you don't have to come if you don't want..." started Harry realizing what she was thinking.

"Of course I want to come," she said looking up at him.

"When is she going to be here?" She asked standing up right.

"Nine-thirty," Harry told them.

"I'm going to go downstairs for breakfast. Have you eaten yet?" She asked Harry.

"Yeah, but I'll come with you anyway," he said to her. "See you downstairs Ron."

* * * * * *

Once nine-nineteen rolled around Séraphine pulled out in front of number twelve Grimmauld Place.

"Hey you guys," she said to them smiling from the doorway. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," said Ron, "I'll just go get Hermione; she's still inside."

"Yeah, you do that," she said as Ron walked away, only it wasn't the loathing tone she normally used when she talked about Hermione; it was more of an I-know-something-you-don't-know tone.

As Harry walked outside he looked up at the bright blue sky letting the friendly sun warm his face.

"It's nice out," Séraphine whisperd softly, "good day for riding."

"Do you think I'll be able to ride it today," he said eagerly.

"Oh sorry," she said holding her hands up to her mouth. "No, probably not; you've got a long time until we get into that. Actually I was talking about the horses."

"What?" said Harry bewildered, "Horses?"

"Yeah, our Ranch; we own a couple horses err... kind of."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. You'll see when we get there." She said waving her hands nonchalantly.

A ranch, horses, and a Mustang convertible; Harry started to wonder if Séraphine and her family were rich. If she was, she certainly didn't flaunt it, old faded jeans and black concert tees seemed to be a favorite of hers. She didn't seem to wear makeup or any jewelry, and definitely did nothing to tame her wild hair. Harry couldn't say much, his hairstyle definitely wasn't winning any awards. In Harry's eyes Séraphine just had a simpleness about her that was attractive on a whole different leve but she didn't seem to notice nor did she seem care much either.

"Are you okay Harry?" She asked in a worried voice that resembled her mother's.

He meant to say something, anything, but the words just didn't come. Harry mentally slapped himself but still no such luck.

"You look awfully pale." She swept the back of her hand on his forehead, checking for his temperature. An unusual chill rushed through him, as icy as her blue eyes. Harry pulled away from her quickly, doubling over clutching his, now, burning scar.

"Harry!" He heard Ron say surprised.

"Oh goodness, is he okay?" Séraphine questioned with the same motherly tone but with more fear in her voice. "Did I do something?"

"No, this happens a lot," Ron said reassuringly. "Harry are you okay?"

Harry, still hunched over, opened his mouth to answer, and quickly decided against it, he felt like he might vomit. He rubbed his blazing scar furiously and slowly stood up. Harry felt slightly annoyed at his scarand became even more mortified when he saw the look on Séraphine's terrified face.

"Maybe we should do this tomorr..." she started.

"No, I'm fine. Lets go."

Ron got into the seat next to Séraphine and in front of Hermione whom Harry sat next to in the back. Séraphine drove along the London roads until the city scenery grew into rolling green hills. She drove a little faster than legal and some would say recklessly, but probably no worse than any other seventeen-year-olds.

Strands of her ivory hair flew in the merciless breeze, exposing her pale neck. Harry heard, over the whistling wind, a sickly familiar voice that seemed to come from his very head.

"Kill the girl! She can not live! Strangle her! Harry, kill Séraphine!"

Harry felt his finger tips tingle with sick temptation, but he easily shook it off. "What did this mean?" he thought. "Does Voldermort want Séraphine dead? Why?"

Then Harry saw it, the most perfect house he'd ever seen. It was a cheerful yellowansion-sized house that sat on a low hill. It had white shutters and a full wrap-around porch, and the lush green lawn was dotted in the occasional menacing dandelion. She turned in to the driveway and stopped where her not-so-cheerful brother was standing. Rèmy's arms were crossed as he glared at his sister, the fire in his eyes.

"Were you speeding?" said Rèmy; it was not a question.

"Wow, you could be a Seer Rèmy." she said sarcastically.

"You're too early. How fast were you going? Sixty? Seventy?"

"No," she said defensively, "I'd never go that slow." She said giggling until she caught his glare. "Gees, I was only kidding!"

"What are you going to do for the next..." he looked down at his wristwatch, "twenty minutes?"

"Not speed, that's for damn sure," she said in a cold undertone not going unheard by her brother. She threw his keys at him, a bit harder than before, and stepped out of the car slamming the door shut. "Come on you three, I'll give you the grand tour."

They went inside and Séraphine started to show them around her massive house, but she suddenly went rigid and peered up the main stairwell straining to hear something far-off.

"What is it?" Ron asked what everyone else was thinking.

"She wouldn't..." she whispered vaguely to herself.

Before anyone could ask who exactly 'she' was, Séraphine took off running up the stairs. Ron Hermione and Harry ran after her through the foreign house. She turned off the stairs and ran down a long hall, abruptly stopping at a door. She turned around and touched her forefinger to her lips to keep them from asking the numerous questions on the tip of their tongues. She gentltook the doorknob in her hand and rotated it slowly. She paused for a while and opened the door abruptly. She flipped the lights on and went red in the face.

"Zut!" she stomped her foot.

"What?" huffed Ron.

"Err! I told her to keep out of my room, and she went behind my back and...?

"And what?" asked Harry still trying to catch his breath.

"Noogle, our House Elf, has a thing about cleaning my room.

"You have House Elves?" asked Hermione the disgust extremely noticeable in her tone. "You own slaves!"

"Yes," she stated simply, "isn't it just awful," she ran her fingers through her matted hair.

"Yes! Yes it's completely awful!" if it were possible, she seemed to dislike Séraphine even more. Yet her harsh words seemed to be failing to reach Séraphine; she stared blankly around her room.

"Her and a few others came with the place," Séraphine said still eyeing her room. It looked like the elf had finished its deed. "I told Noogle I didn't want her cleaning my room, but she seems to have," Séraphine leaned over her freshly made bed and messed it up a bit, "forgotten."

"Why did you tell her not to clean your room?" asked Hermione in a slightly softer tone.

"I don't believe in slave labor, bes cleaning my own room never killed me before," said Séraphine as she smiled fondly around at her bedroom.

"Do you pay them?" asked Hermione suspiciously.

"I tried, it seemed to just offend them."

Séraphine's room was extremely different from Ron's. It wasn't cramped up and cluttered, actually it was rather huge and well organized. Her luxurious bed was against the wall opposite a tall, lead glass, floor to ceiling window that poured in sunlight dotting the floor with several small rainbows. In the corner was an impressive assortment of guitars, a piano, and a drum set. One of her walls was devoted to looking like that of a library, with all its shelves jam-packed with books.

"Read much?" asked Hermione.

"I try," smiled Séraphine. Harry didn't know if a friendship between them was developing, but it seemed the two weren't going to be killing each other any time soon.

"Oh good Séraphine, you're here," said a familiar voice from behind them. Ms. Darkholme stood in the doorway looking a bit frazzled.

"What is it Mom?" she asked.

"Just got an owl from Hagrid; he said he'd be running a bit late."

"Did he say why?" asked Séraphine casually.

"No and I couldn't tell you even if he did," she said to her inquiring daughter.

"I suppose I could tak you all to the bike myself," Séraphine mumbled as she walked to the door.

"No you couldn't. Hagrid wants to be there when he sees it, but you could let Trinity out, she's driving me mad."

"Where's she at?"

"Downstairs in the sitting room."

"Come on I'll show you thestables while were at it."

"Oh and Séraphine, do try harder to get along with your brother."

Séraphine scoffed at her mother's statement and said, "Maybe later. Come on lets go."

She ran hastily down the stairs sliding on one of the banister part of the way. She led them into through halls pointing at the other rooms and then they went into what was the sitting room. A white German shepherd was lying on the hearthrug next to the fireplace; it looked up at them happily as soon as they entered the room.

"Trinity, I've heard you've been driving Mom half-mad," she said lovingly to it, as she knelt down scratching its belly. Harry was surprised to see, under closer inspection, the dog was missing its right hind leg.

"Oy Séraphine, it only has three legs!" exclaimed Ron.

"Yes, that's what makes her so special," she told them in the same baby-talk tone still looking at her beloved pooch. "She's albino too see," she said gesturing to the animal's eyes. Sure enough the dog, Trinity, had soft pink eyes and eerie dark red pupils. "She's in great need of a run by the looks of it," she added as the hyperactive dog jumped up and ran circles around the room.

* * * * * *

The outside of Séraphine's house was more amazing than the interior. The huge backyard was compiled of enormous oaks and cobble trails winding around the sloping green hills; the whole place gave the earthy aroma of being freshly cut. Beyond her play park-sized yard was a magnificent stable; you could hear the horses before they came into view.

Séraphine let her crazed dog, Trinity, run loose; it ran quite well for only having three limbs. She smiled as she walked looking at her snow-white dog.

"I love animals," she said to themtill watching, "I mean if you think about it animals are really great; they all serve a purpose, even if we don't know what it is. I mean really think about it; animals aren't cruel like humans, they don't steal, they aren't judgmental, they're probably smarter than we are too. In my opinion animals are the best thing that ever happened to this awful place."

Harry didn't quite agree; Séraphine had never met Fluffy, Norbert, or Aragog, at no time had she fought a basilisk, and it was Harry's best guess she hadn't ever been caught in the crossfire of a giant vs. centaur battle. She made a good point though; mankind's behavior wasn't impressing Harry either.

All of them looked over at Trinity who was now chasing her tail and howling in absolute ecstasy making the foursome snicker.

"Okay, so maybe they're not geniuses," Séraphine giggled.

They reached the end of the cobbled path and entered the horses' stable. They were greeted with a clamor of whinnies and clomping hooves. The intimidated three walked cautiously behind Séraphine. Just as they walked past a stall an enormous horse stuck out its head emitting a resounding snort. Hermione jumped back and gave a muffled squeak.

The monstrous horse was ravishing; its mane and tail was jet-black as well as its sleek shinny coat.

"Sorry Hermione, sometimes Epona is a little too friendly," said Séraphine as she stroked the horse's muzzle and kissed it softly.

"No, It's okay. I just don't like horses much," she mumbled as she pushed herself up against the opposite wall.

"How can you not like horses, Hermione?" asked Ron as he went up next to Séraphine to pet the dark creature. "You're scared aren't you?" he turned around and asked eagerly.

"Yeah, well at least I'm not afraid of little spiders, Ron!" she hollered defensively.

"Little? I told you it was HUGE!"

"Yeah, yeah your teddy bear," said Hermione waving her hands of the conversation.

Séraphine leaned in next to Harry, away from the bickering duo, and spoke into his ear, "Adorable aren't they?" At first he thought she was being sarcastic, but if she were she was very bad at it. She looked down at her watch, "Oh, Hagrid will be here any minute. Err... you two--" she looked over at the Ron and Hermione, "umm... whatever lets just go." She grabbed Harry by the wrist and walked out of the stables with him.

They steeped back out into the sunny yard the light warminghis back. He felt happy he didn't know why, but he did know why he felt bad about felling good. The dismal epiphany overtook him. He didn't deserve to live -- Sirius was dead. He didn't want to live anymore, not if his Godfather couldn't. Harry wanted to die; he was dying; breaking from the inside out.

"Look, Harry, there he his. Hagrid, we're over here!" Harry was pulled away from his grieving cocoon and back into the harsh reality. Séraphine's voice was so lighthearted and carefree; she would never know how he felt; no one could.

* * * * * *

Harry and Séraphine meet up with Hagrid and walked towards a shaded shed Harry hadn't noticed at first. Séraphine opened the door for them and Harry walked in. Harry didn't know what has expecting, but what lay before him was definitely not it. The ordinary-looking shed seemed to expand as they steeped in. The outer walls were lined with at least ten motorcycles and some of them looked half-built.

"Got yer' self quite tha' collection, don' yeh?" Hagrid asked her not quite as amazed as he was.

"Are you kidding me I practically live down here," she replied.

"Did you buy all of these yourself?" Harry asked wondering what anyone would want with so many vehicles.

"I bought all the spare parts with my own money, but most of this was all junk yard treasures before I got my hands on it. Alas, my life's work," she said dramatically with the back of one of her hands on her forehead and the other one gesturing at the rows of metallic monsters. "Mom hates it though. I guess she thinks a lady shouldn't smell like axial grease and exhaust fumes all the time."

"Liz is a smart woman and she is yer' mum, so yeh oughta' listen teh her," Hagrid told her in a serious tone.

"She's smart, sure, but she doesn't understand me at all," Séraphine ran her fingers along the shiny chrome-work of an exposed engine.

"Oh Séraphine, yer' bein' over dramatic again. Yeh say yeh want her teh understand, but yeh ne'er talk ta' her, she's worried 'bout you," Hagrid looked to her pleadingly.

"I was under the impression we came here to fix up Harry's motorcycle," Séraphine said changing the conversation.

"Right!" exclaimed Hagrid as he turned to in his direction. "Yeh want teh see et'?"

"Yeah," said Harry, as if he could wait any longer he thought.

"Well, led on," he said to Séraphine as she walked down the rows of bikes.

She stopped in front of an unusual bike; it was different from the others.

"Is this it?" he asked urgently.

"No, this is a 2-stroke dirt bike, you'll be learning how to ride on this one," her tone was extremely serious. The sever look on her face faded and a grin itched at her lips. Harry could tell she was havng fun bossing him around. She walked over to another one. "This is my Harley, it's an American brand. I didn't want to rebuild it at first, too blue-collar, too expensive, too ...common, but I figured what the hell. I mean I can always sell it." Towards the end was many half-built motorbikes, "These are my works in progress. Most of them are either a Suzuki, Yamaha, or a Honda, but lately I've been rebuilding some Britbikes; I enjoy a new challenge. I don't really like the new Triumphs; let's just say they don't impress me. Though I really like my BMWs, and love what I've heard about its weight."

None of this mattered to Harry, he could care less about her motorbikes he just wanted to see his Godfather's.

"But! My all time favorite would have to be the 'Italian stallion'" she paused and stood in front of a large bumpy object hidden beneath a dusty cover.

"Is this it?" Harry asked eagerly his heart pounding.

"Sure is," she said bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Harry went for the dusty black covering and pulled it back. The metallic marvel was unbelievable. He knelt down next to it examining every curve and crevice.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Harry," she said sitting down next to him, "this is your very own classic Ducati Monster." she proclaimed.

"So... that's good?"

"Good? Harry this is amazing! I would kill for my own vintage Ducati. I mean sure this ones engine is in dire need of new parts, but I'm very well aquatinted to the inter workings of the Monster's unique Italian design. I put a modern one together myself, but it's nothing like this. Oh, I tell you it's been an absolute Hell not being able to tinker with it a bit." she bit her lip as she looked at it as if she might start kissing the beastly machine if she didn't.

"Wait, Monster? Why would they call it 'Monster'?" once again Harry felt stupid as Séraphine answered him.

"They call it that because this is truly a Frankenstein bike. It only has the most basic parts, none of those swoopy die-cast bits hanging out in the breeze. Even half-faired bikes have too much fiberglass; sculptures belong in a museum not wrapped around an engine. The Ducati was pieced together, bit by bit; someone called it a monster bike and the name stuck."

Harry could tell Rèmy wasn't the only one with obsessions.

"The Ducati is terribly basic in so many aspects, it only has what it needs, it's ripe for customizinand owners do incredible things to it. I keep mine stock, not only do I like the plain and simplified design, but it's also is faster when you ride it without cogs."

Harry ran his fingers accost the glistening metal looking at it in silence, admiring its beauty. He remembered suddenly how much trouble Mr. Weasley got into with his flying car; Harry was certain a flying motorbike would be any less illegal.

"Séraphine," Harry spoke, "how would I be able to ride this? I don't expect the Ministry would be all too pleased about it."

She gave an amused laugh and turned to Hagrid who had been standing quietly for a long time.

"Don' yeh go worryin' 'bout tha' Harry," boomed Hagrid, "Arthur said he's goin' teh take care of et."

"Umm Harry," Séraphine started, "not many muggles would fix up a magic motorcycle, and not wizards know what a motorcycle is."

Harry saw desire flash in her blue eyes as she side-glanced the motorbike.

"I haven't touched it yet because it's totally yor call."

"Alright," he said going back to examining the black and metallic exterior, "but I want to help."

"Yes!" she whooped as she trudged out of sight and did sort of a dance as she returned with a large toolbox.

"Our we starting now?" he questioned.

"Certainly, why wait?" she replied.

"Well yeh' don't need me for tha'" Hagrid said, "I'm no good excep' fer teaching yeh' how ter fly et'."

"You don't have to leave Hagrid," Séraphine spoke, "you just got here."

"Yeah Hagrid, stay," Harry pleaded.

&lduo;I won't be no help, not till yev' fixed it," he replied shaking his shaggy mane.

"Oh at least stay for lunch, please? You can check out the, umm... horses." stated Séraphine slyly.

Hagrid suddenly looked much more compelled and excepted her offer.

Once Hagrid left, Séraphine turned to him, "Okay like all modern Ducatis, Monsters are powered by 90-degree V-twins. Uniquely, the valves are desmodromic, which means there are no valve springs. This system is fiendishly simple."

Harry let out a snort of skepticism.

"With a second cam lobe and a second rocker arm for each valve. The extra arm closes the valve at the appropriate time. Not only does this eliminate valve spring breakage and floating or bent valves, it also does away with the parasitic friction caused by valves opening against stiff springs," she said all of this as if she explaining how to tie your shoes.

"Translation?"

"More power at the rear wheel. Another benefit is that the belts used to drive the camshafts can be smaller and less bulky, saving space and weight. That's what a monster is fast, lightweight, and unfaired. The downside to this is that valve-lash adjustments can be annoying. You only have to adjust them every 12,000 miles, and you'll be flying most of the time so it won't be a big deal, right?"

"Sure," said Harry all of what she was saying was way over his head yet she didn't seem to have noticed.

"Okay let me try to explain this better," she stood up once more and started pacing the floor. "They call Ducatics 'the naked bike', no not like that," she snapped as a crooked grin appeared at Harry's lips. "They call it that because the frame is exposed, look you can see the engine. The chassis," she pointed at a some metal part above the motor, "is a lattice frame of stainless steel thinwall tubing, borrowed from the World Superbike 851/888 eight-valve Desmos. Forks are upside-down 41mm Showas, while the aluminum rear double-sided swingarm is carried by a single spring/shock unit. Brakes are massive twin 320mm Brembo discs with 4-piston calipers, with a single 230mm Brembo in the rear," she caught Harry's bedazzled look, "never mind," she shook her head. "All-up curb weight is listed as 407 lbs., but it feels like less. Some people think that it would be a sportbike, right?" she questioned him. "But, they aren't. Sportbikes have that 'chew-on-the-gas-cap' riding position, and if you've ever ridden one you know its ability to carve a turn. The Monster, in all its nakedness, has more of a crouched forward-lean posture like a Norton commando. So what do you want to work on first?"

"Huh, how about you fix it and I hand you stuff," said Harry his head aching with all of Séraphine's unhelpful shoptalk.

"Sounds like a plan."

* * * * * *

After Harry and Séraphine took apart and reassembled over half of the monstrous engine, went back in side for a break. Harry would have removed his shoes at the back door, so not to track dirt, but he was nothing compared to Séraphine; her hands were hidden beneath a layers of oil and grease, which she tried to remove by wiping them absent-mindedly on her jeans as she worked.

"I better get cleaned up before lunch or else Mom will have my hide," she said, walking towards the stairs. "Do you need anything?"

"Err, just a sink," he replied examining the pathetically small amounts of grime on his own hands.

Séraphine pointed him in the direction of the bathroom and went back to the staircase.

"I'll be right back," she said walking out the door just before disappearing out of sight.

Harry scrubbed furiously at his palms for quite a while, trying to remove the dirt and grime, but he would never really be clean. He felt his chest become heavy. Every time he thought about it he felt weak and vulnerable; two feelings he detested, but at the same time, it was the only time he ever felt he was being truthful to himself.

"Hi Harry," Hermione's cheerful voice wrenched him, once more, away from his grieving.

"We saw Séraphine, she said you were in the bathroom," said Ron who following closely behind Hermione.

"She said we all could wait in the sitting room until she's ready," Hermione finished.

* * * * * *

The three of them wandered back into the sitting room, once accompanied by Trinity, now void of life.

Harry told them all about Sirius's bike and how he and Séraphine, or rather Séraphine, had it nearly fixed.

"Why didn't she use her wand? It would probably go a lot faster," asked Ron.

"Séraphine said something about how she doesn't think magic and machines should mix; she thinks some things are better done by hand," replied Harry. "Séraphine didn't seem to mind the extra work either."

The conversation started to die down after Harry finished talking about the Motorbike, and the moment became more and more after every silent second slipped by.

"Harry, you'll never guess what the Darkholme's have in their stables," said Ron excitedly.

"Horses?" knowing the answer was wrong before he said it by the Ron had asked the question.

"No err...not quite, the horse that scared Hermione, was according to Hagrid, a Shire horses that had been cross-bread with a Thestral and they own an other one that has been crossed with an Aethonan. Hagrid about went nuts when saw them."

"Liked Epona and Balios did he?" said Séraphine who had apparently been listening to their conversation for a while. She walked over to the couch where Hermione was sitting and plopped down next to her. She closed her eyes with her head resting on her shoulder. She looked exhausted. "A Winter's Tale!" she shouted as her eyes sprung open and looked much more awake. "That's where... A Winter's Tale!"

"Huh?" asked Ron.

"Oh, come on," she urged them excitely as they made another irritating flight up the stairs once again ending up in her bedroom. She ran over to her wall of shelves and scoured them looking for something and let out a squeal of delight when she found it. She walked up to Hermione and handed her a book. "A Winter's Tale," she repeated once more.

Hermione took the book and looked at it with an estranged expression.

"What?" she asked.

"I knew that I heard your name somewhere before," she said smiling at her widely "about drove me crazy."

Hermione opened the book skeptically and scoured the pages; she didn't have to look long because her eyes opened widely and she looked utterly stunned.

"I always thought my parents gave me that name just incase I wasn't smart enough, people would at least have my name to make fun of," she said her eyes still glued to the book.

Séraphine snorted, "Like my name is any better; I think your name is lovely!"

"Oh my God, that'sso nice," she said to her closing the book. Harry had no idea Hermione was so sensitive about her name.

"Yeah, that was really nice," she said analyzing what she said and then became very bubbly. "What about me?"

Ron rolled his eyes, "I swear after all I put up with this summer, now their friends because their names are weird."

Both Séraphine and Hermione shot daggers at Ron.

Hermione looked around her room, her gaze settling on the black and white piano.

"So do you play the piano?" Hermione asked as she wandered over to it.

Séraphine laughed grimly, "No, actually that's about the only string instrument I can't play.

"Why do you have one?" she asked now sitting on it's bench.

"When I was little my dad tried to teach me," she said darkly. Hermione knew, as did everyone else in the room, she had crossed a line; it showed on everyone's face. "No, it's alright, I don't mind talking about it. Do you play?" she asked Hermione who looked very awkward next to the piano.

"I know a bit," she said smiling a little.

"Oh I always hated it," Séraphine admitted as she sat down next to her newly acquired friend, "he would make me practice and practice," she turned to her, "...and practice and practice. It didn't do any good I guess, because I can't even remember a single chord."

Séraphine lifted the piano keys' covering and said, "Well, you any good?"

Hermione blushed, "Oh I couldn't, it's been too long."

"Oh come on Hermione," nagged Ron.

"I-I don't have any... music," she said searching for an excuse, but it didn't work.

"Now you do, "Séraphine said spreading some sheet music in front of her, "come on it's only accompaniment for a song I've been working on. Come on."

"I don't know?"

"If it will help I'll play along on my bass?" she said picking up a red guitar and plugging it into an amp.

"Okay," she said exasperatedly as she spread her fingers across the ivory and ebony keys awkwardly and squinted down at the notes. "It's been so long," she repeated just before she started playing. She wasn't bad;in fact she was pretty good.

Séraphine strummed the guitar pick across the body of the instrument several times it gave an eerie echoing noise.

The light traditional sound coming from Hermione and the low radical noises being made by Séraphine seemed to clash but at the same time sounded really great.

Séraphine's face looked so serious and angry and Hermione seemed like she was thoroughly enjoying herself.

Séraphine hit her instrument harder and Hermione's tempo quickened. Finally the sultry melody faded away from the two instruments into silence.

"Be nice. I haven't touched a piano since I was --," Hermione said but was interrupted by clapping and whooping from their grateful audience.

Harry and Ron applauded them wildly; Hermione blushed again and Séraphine was smiling at them.

"That sounded really great!" Ron exclaimed.

"Yeah, we are really great aren't we?" said Séraphine looking impressed. "Now all we need is a drummer, a few more guitarist, a few singers, and..."

"Whoa! When did we decide to start a band?" asked Hermione

"Well it's not final, but I asked your headmaster if maybe..."

"What!"

"At my old school we had a band, and you know what I heard about Hogwarts? I heard CD players don't even work! I don't know what I'll do without music. It's bad enough to have to go through the school year with out my bikes!"

"Wait. You asked Dumbledore if you could start a band at Hogwarts. That's so cool!" exclaimed Ron. "What are CD players?"

"Yeah, Mom wasn't too keen on the idea, but then I figured I had to do it. Not only does she hate my motorcycles, my protests against meat, the way I dress, my attitude, and my grades, but she also thinks my music is atrocious. I think he'll say it's okay, he struck me as a rebellious music-lover." she ended sarcastically.

"He likes chamber music," Hermione giggled.

* * * * * *

Lunch at the Darkholme's was... spacious. The table wasn't as long as the ones at Hogwarts, but everyone definitely had plenty of elbowroom and that was saying a lot because Hagrid was eating with them.

Ms. Darkholme and Hagrid were talking about teaching at Hogwarts, Hermione and Séraphine were talking and giggling over uninteresting 'girly stuff' and Ron, Harry, and Rèmy were in a heated discussion about Quidditch. They were interrupted numerous times by the upheaval of laughter coming from the girls, now turning blue from lack of oxygen.

"What is so funny?" shouted Rèmy, irritated because he was in the middle of talking about his broomstick, Aeronautics.

The girls looked at them, blushed, and then tried to muffle their giggling into their hands.

All three of the boys muttered something like, "girls" underneath their breath.

"Children have you received your letters yet?" Ms. Darkholme asked.

"For what?" asked the twins.

"Your Sorting. When is it?"

"Oh, yeah we got them today," said Rèmy.

"Ugh, when were you going to tell me?" asked Séraphine looking highly irritated.

"Just did," her brother said flashing a triumphant smile.

Séraphine mouthed something like 'sod off!' once her mother wasn't looking.

"This Saturday, the 24^th, we need to be there at four o'clock," he said respectfully to his mother.

"You're getting Sorted before school even starts?" Ron asked them.

"Yeah, it would be a lot less embarrassing. Two seventeen year olds getting Sorted along with first years," laughed Rèmy.

"Hermione, what houses are there again?"

"Hufflepuff, they're loyal and kind--" Hermione started.

"And a bunch of ninnies," added Ron 'helpfully.'

"Gryffindor, known for courage--"

"That's the house we're in," he interrupted again.

"Ron are going to let me talk?" snapped Hermione. "Ravenclaw," see continued as she looked at Ron daring him to speak, "are clever and witty, and Slytherin who are supposedly cunning, but all the ones we've met are extremely rude."

Ms. Darkholme laughed slightly, "Gryffindor and Slytherin didn't get along when I went to school either. The Sorting Hat put me in Ravenclaw."

"What about your school, which house were you in?" Ron asked Rèmy.

"I went to St. Richmond School of Wizardry, that's in Quebec, we didn't have houses."

"Oh," said Ron.

"What about your school, Séraphine?" asked Hermione.

"Well you were put into your sorority according to the Fountain of Eternal Fire," she said simply.

"Fire?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," she giggled, "it's funny really. Salem Massachusetts, according to the muggles, was host to many witch burnings, so when you get Sorted you reach into the magical fire and retrieve a stone that had your sorority's name engraved in it."

"Which ones are there?" Hermione inquired.

"There were the Amazons, Maidens, Matriarchs, Nymphs, and then mine the Sirens," Séraphine answered. "Amazons were the athletic ones and kind of self-empowering. Maidens were the superficial ones. You know the type they're the 'I'm-so-beautiful-it's-a-miracle-I-don't-run-into-walls-more-often' kind of girls. The type of girls Rèmy dates."

Hermione snorted as the twins stared each other down.

"Matriarchs are the super smart ones. You'd be a Matriarch, Hermione. Nymphs," she giggled slightly, "they're loud, obnoxious, and funny; party girls basically. And the Sirens," she said smiling widely, "are the best ones."

"How'd you get in then?" asked Rèmy sweetly.

"Ha ha," his sister said sarcastically, "Sirens are known for being musically inclined."

When they finished dinner Séraphine told them Rèmy would be taking them back. She figured all the chances she had of driving his car again were closes to none, and she had to clean the stables. Before she said good bye to them, she told Harry she would finish up what was left to do with the bike so he could practice riding tomorrow.

* * * * * *

Harry couldn't go to sleep even though he was exhausted from lack of sleep from the previous night. His mind was racing with death threats, horses, motorbikes, and sirens. He made up for it though by accidentally sleeping in the next morning.