Harry Potter and the Ring of Destiny

Harry Potter & the Ring of Destiny

Chapter Two - The Professor

The next two days went by uneventfully. To Aunt Petunia's great disappointment, her cousin Agnes hadn't come for dinner as planned. She had apparently gotten stuck in an elevator in north London, and after her rescue five hours later, she was far too traumatized to make an appearance. Harry knew Aunt Petunia had been hoping for the chance to rattle on about his faults and compare him with perfect Dudley, as she always did. And the following day had been even worse. Uncle Vernon discovered from the doctor that he was lactose-intolerant, and a milk-free diet was being forced upon the entire family. Harry couldn't wait to escape to this professor, whoever it turned out to be.

The day of the scheduled "pick-up," Harry was allowed to pack all his belongings - with the exception of Hedwig, who had still not returned - and wait in the hall for the professor's arrival.

Uncle Vernon was peering anxiously through the blinds every five minutes, grumbling loudly, "Professor ... professor indeed."

It was ten minutes past when the professor was to arrive. Uncle Vernon looked over at Harry and smiled wickedly, saying, "Looks like your professor is a no-show. Those blasted people ... never prompt, never on time, never ..." At just that moment, the doorbell rang, and with one last spiteful glance, Uncle Vernon unlatched the door.

"Hel-lo there," said the witch. "You must be Harry's uncle, Vernon Dursley? I'm Rachel Witstick, from -"

"Yes, yes, come in," Uncle Vernon said hurriedly. "Here's the boy."

"Oh, lovely," Professor Witstick said with a smile.

She was very pretty, Harry noticed, and young. Strawberry blonde hair fell just to her shoulders, and she was wearing a long ocean blue cape over Muggle clothes - jeans and a cream-colored turtleneck. She hardly looked older than the seventh-years at Hogwarts.

"Are you ready then, Harry?" she asked, surveying his bags and then looking at Uncle Vernon.

"Yes ... er, I think so," replied Harry a bit nervously.

"Excellent! I have the broomstick just outside." "Invisible, of course," she added, noticing the look of horror on Uncle Vernon's face. Harry was trying desperately to keep from laughing.

"Ok, then," Harry said, barely surpassing a chuckle. "Goodbye Uncle Vernon. Goodbye Aunt Petunia." "Dudley," he added with a nod, almost as an afterthought.

The Dursleys were completely silent. Dudley was cowering behind Aunt Petunia, who wore a look of intense distaste. Uncle Vernon was red with anger. Yet, Professor Witstick seemed not surprised in the least, even at the refusal on the Dursleys' part to bid farewell to their nephew. She and Harry left the house briskly, and Harry felt wonderful.

The professor gave one swift motion with her wand, and it was like a veil had been removed. A long, slender broomstick was hovering before them, with glossy silver letters on the handle: Ice Glider.

"Nice, isn't it?" said Professor Witstick, gently stroking the broomstick. "My brother got it for me last Christmas. It's a wonderful piece of craftsmanship, much more reliable than those racing brooms for transportation."

"It's very nice," Harry said politely. "Er ... where should I put my bags?"

"In the trunk, silly," she replied, shaking her head with a laugh. She pushed a small button at the front of the broom, and a large storage compartment popped up. After helping Harry load his things, they both slipped on the broom, and it sped away.

"How far is your home from here?" Harry asked.

"Oh, about three hundred miles - but on this," she said, patting the broom, "it'll take about ten minutes."

"Wow. Do many witches and wizards travel by broom?"

"Where have you been, Harry?" Professor Witstick said with a laugh, glancing back at him. "There's also apparating, of course, but you're underage. Brooms are the best for more than one person, anyhow."

"Well, you know ... those Muggles I live with ..." Harry paused, collecting his thoughts. "I'm not exactly 'in tune' with the wizarding world. Believe me, it feels great to be out of there, Professor -"

"Witstick," she finished for him. "But please call me Rachel. I'm not all that used to being labeled a professor."

"So, Prof - er, Rachel - you'll be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts, then?"

"Yeah. You seem to go through them pretty quickly, eh?"

Remembering the events of last year, Harry smiled and said, "You could say that."

"Well, don't worry, Harry. I'm not a werewolf and I'm not in league with Voldemort or anything," replied Rachel. "'Fraid I'm just a regular old witch."

Harry caught his breath. She had said Voldemort's name. He didn't know many wizards besides Dumbledore, Sirius, and himself who even dared to speak the name. And Rachel had said it so casually, just like that. Harry paused, wondering whether he should say something, but right as he opened his mouth, the broom slid to a halt.

"Welcome home, Harry," said Rachel, grinning.

Harry couldn't contain himself. "It's brilliant!" he exclaimed. "Like a fairy tale or something."

On the hill in front of him was a blue cottage with white stones surrounding the base, and large pots of colorful flowers playfully clawing at one another, much like those in the Hogwarts greenhouse. A cat was perched atop the white picket fence ... a cat that looked very much like -

"Crookshanks! Get down from there, silly beast," Rachel cried good-naturedly, shooing the cat off the fence and explaining to Harry, "Can't have him scratching on the new fence."

"Wait," Harry began. "My friend, Hermione Granger ... that's her cat!"

A smile crept onto Rachel's face as she said, "Yes, well, shall we go inside then?" And just as they walked through the gate, two familiar faces peered from the inside.

Running to meet them, Harry yelled, "Ron! Hermione! I ... I can't believe it! What are you two doing here?"

"Same as you, whatever that is," Ron said. "Mum got an owl from Dumbledore saying that the new professor would pick me up. Hermione too. 'Spected you'd be here as well, naturally."

For a second, Harry felt his face grow hot as he remembered last year, when he and Ron had not spoken for at least a week. Ron had always been a little jealous of all the attention Harry drew wherever he went.

Rachel, grinning, said, "Dumbledore told me a lot about you three."

"Well, what's up then?" Hermione demanded, impatiently. "There must be a reason why we're all here for the rest of the summer."

"I'm afraid I can't tell you just yet," said Rachel, apologetically. Harry could see that she really wanted to explain.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Why are we always the last to know? Malfoy probably knows and he isn't even here!"

"Yes, yes, I know, but ... let's go inside. It's getting rather cool out here," replied Rachel with a shiver. It really wasn't all that cold, but the threesome went inside the cottage agreeably, chatting about various topics. They had a lot to catch up on!

After Rachel directed them to their rooms, Harry motioned silently to Ron and Hermione.

"Shh ... I got a letter from Sirius," he whispered. Encouraged by his friends' obvious excitement, he told them everything he knew.

"So you didn't get any of our letters?" Hermione asked. Harry shook his head. With a sigh of relief, Hermione said, "Good!"

"Why would that be good?" Harry asked. "I was beginning to feel like you'd abandoned me!"

"Oh, well ... never mind. It's just ... good," Hermione said, obviously embarrassed. She began to busy herself with investigating Harry's room.

Meanwhile, Ron bombarded Harry with dozens of questions about Sirius' note. "Added protection on the school ... not the dementors again?"

"I hope not," said Harry. "Malfoy would love it."

"The prat. Why can't he go fall off a cliff or something?" Ron complained.

"You three!" called a voice from downstairs. "C'mon now! Dinner's in a minute and then it's off to bed with the three of you. You'll need to pick up your supplies tomorrow."

* * * * *

After breakfast the following morning, Rachel gave Harry, Ron, and Hermione their school letters.

"Got them in the post this morning," she said.

"Look! We must have three times as many books this year!" Hermione exclaimed, her face lighting up. "I suppose it's because of the OWLs. Excellent!" OWLs were Ordinary Wizarding Levels, the required standardized tests for all fifth-years at Hogwarts.

"Only you can get excited about books and tests, Hermione," said Ron, scowling at his booklist.

Without looking up from her newspaper, Rachel motioned to the fireplace and explained, "There's Floo Powder in the pot over there. Remember to be back before five. Oh and Harry, don't worry. I'll take care of Hedwig if she flies in."

"Thanks," replied Harry, gratefully. He couldn't imagine what was taking his snowy owl so long.

Each grabbing a handful of Floo Powder, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped into the fire grate and cried "Diagon Alley!" as loudly and clearly as possible. Harry had traveled by Floo Powder several times before, but he could never quite get used to the feeling of soot in his throat and being thrown from grate to grate.

Diagon Alley was bustling with witches and wizards, undoubtedly purchasing their supplies for the new school year just like Harry and his friends.

Dutifully unfolding her list and catching Harry's robe as he headed for the quidditch supply store, Hermione cleared her throat, saying, "We'd best get our books and robes first, and then we can go make a fuss over toy broomsticks and bledgers or whatever."

"It's bludgers," Ron corrected her irritably, "and broomsticks aren't toys. But of course you wouldn't know that since you've always got your nose in a book."

"Ron ..." Harry started, warningly.

"It's okay, Harry," replied Hermione huffily, "I've already learned to tune out Ron's petty insults." She stormed off to Flourish and Blotts as Harry and Ron turned in the opposite direction to Madame Malkin's Robes.

"Ron, what was that all about?" Harry asked. Ron looked at him strangely.

"She says it wrong just to irritate me."

"And you rise to her bait," replied Harry. "Besides ... have you ever thought that maybe ... that maybe she likes you?"

"She likes stupid Durmstrang foreigners like Viktor Krum."

Ignoring this, Harry walked into the shop and was greeted by a very friendly Madame Malkin in bottle-green robes.

"Why hello there Harry! Regular and dress?"

He nodded as Ron mumbled, "Same for me."

After paying for their new robes, they proceeded over to the bookshop, where dozens of people were congregating. Hermione, with a bit of trouble, emerged and rushed over to them.

Breathlessly, she exclaimed, "Lots of people ... book signing ... Gregarious Gringott VI ... great-great-great grandson of the founder of Gringotts ... see?" She held out a new hardbound copy of Sickles for the Soul.

Harry, opening to the front cover, saw the meticulous signature of Gregarious Gringott VI and wondered aloud, "Why is this book on our school list?"

Waving her hand casually, Hermione replied, "Oh well, when I saw he was there, I just had to get a copy didn't I? I mean honestly! Another similar opportunity might never present itself. You two should probably get copies as well."

"Ahem," said Ron loudly, "you're not talking to Mr. Gringott himself." He emptied his pocket to display a very paltry sum of sickles and knuts.

"Well, if you really wanted it," said Hermione shyly, "I could always buy you a copy."

"Erm, no thanks, Hermione. Not with this reading list anyhow."

Hermione sighed and muttered, "Bet you'd read about the Chudley Cannons any day, wouldn't you? It's all a matter of what you want to read, eh Ron?"

"And what of it?" Rolling his eyes, Ron tapped Harry and they proceeded into the bookshop.

"Can you get any more obsessed?" asked Ron.

"You know Hermione," said Harry with a smile. He couldn't help but notice the way Ron and Hermione were treating each other. Did they really like each other - as more than just friends? Now, if only he could get Cho to ... Cho Chang. Harry felt a surge of guilt pulsate through his body. It was his fault (or so he thought) that her boyfriend Cedric had died last year. How could he even face the pretty Ravenclaw seeker again? He remembered it vividly ... Cedric's lifeless body on the ground ... the frenzied calls from the crowd ... Cho's tear-stained face ...

"Harry!" Ron whispered, looking a bit feverish. "It's ... it's her ..."

Harry jerked back to life. "Who? What did you say? You know, Ron, I was just thinking ..."

"Harry? Is zat really you?"

Harry wheeled around to find himself facing a striking, and oddly familiar girl. The look on Ron's face confirmed it. Though she had changed her looks, it was undoubtedly the very same girl he had met last year at Hogwarts ... Fleur Delacour.

"Fleur?" Harry asked uncertainly. "You look different ... er, in a good way, of course." He was pretty sure Fleur was incapable of looking anything but jaw dropping gorgeous.

A very red-faced Ron stammered, "You - er, you're looking very - er, well today."

Tossing her long silvery-blonde hair over her shoulder, Fleur smiled very prettily, saying, "Zank you much. I am visiting a cou-zeen in Eastern Sussex, zince I finished my last year at Beauxbatons. It is so wonderful to zee you both!"

Like a very beautiful butterfly, she swept over them and kissed them each on the cheek, marveling at how, "leetle Harry Potter was not so leetle anymore." At Ron's glance, she laughed and added, "And his friend, Ron Veezley, as well."

"I don't suppose, er, you'll be at Hogwarts again this year, eh?" asked Ron anxiously.

"Well ... I shouldn't tell you reely, but ... I am 'oping that per 'aps it will be sooner zan you zink." She winked and turned away, exclaiming as she left, "Au revoir ... but not for long!"

Harry and Ron could merely stare agape at her retreating figure, which quickly dissolved into the hordes of shopping witches and wizards.

Hermione, walking over to find them in this state, was a bit put out.

"Why are you gawking so? There are loads more supplies to pick up," she insisted, adding offhandedly, "And no time at all to be acting stupid towards certain witches."

"Oh lay off Hermione," grumbled Ron. "I suppose you've forgotten a certain boyfriend from Durmstrang, or shall I not re -"

Hermione sniffed, interrupting swiftly, "Viktor Krum is just a very good friend. At least we don't stand around and stare at each other all the time. We have a working relationship."

"Oh," said Ron, "a working relationship. How very professional of you, Hermione! How many galleons does he pay you for snogging on school campus?"

"Ron! You're so immature! You know perfectly well that I never -"

"Let's go get the rest of our books, shall we?" Harry interrupted evenly. He had a feeling Ron and Hermione liked each other, though neither would admit anything of the sort, but their way of showing it was getting downright annoying, not to mention extremely pathetic.

Three checkouts, two bags of sweets, and a chat with Seamus Finnegan later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gathered all their supplies and the crowds were subsiding. In just a few weeks they would be back on the Hogwarts Express and ready for another exciting year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.