Absolutely Normal Chaos

Chapter Four.

A slight girl stood framed in the doorway, dragging a mop and bucket behind her and trying to push her hair out of her eyes. All the boys had covered their eyes against the bright light, dazed and horrified, but a confused and annoyed Harry and a furious bushy-haired girl said, at the same time, “YOU!”

She rounded on the boys. “What are you doing here, are you trying to get me in trouble, don’t you know you aren’t supposed to be here, don’t you have any regard for the RULES?” Harry leapt forward and shut the door, whispering savagely, “Don’t go shouting it about, what’s the matter with you, you’ll get us into trouble!” She pursed her lips and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Aw, come on, you won’t tell on us, will you?” laughed -----. There was a tense silence. Then—

“Hey, let me go!” She grabbed Harry’s arm and shoved him toward the door, ready to turn them all in, but the second she stuck her head out the door she gave a terrified squeak and ducked back inside (and let go of Harry, which is probably a good thing as he had wildly considered kicking her to make her let go of him so he and his friends could make a quick getaway).

“The janitor is coming!” she hissed. They looked like they wanted to cry, but she just grabbed Harry’s arm again (it was starting to hurt) and opened a door in the back of the closet that they hadn’t known was there. “Get in here!” she whispered. Before they could even be surprised, they scattered to different hiding spots.

It was Frank’s office, the furnace room. A large, drafty sort of room with the dirty metal furnace looming in one corner, a few student desks piled to the side with names and doodles scratched into them, and a small wooden desk with a few papers on it in underneath the low roof in the center. A small, chipped sink stood in the corner. They waited, agonizingly, crouching uncomfortably.

They heard Frank wheeling out the janitorial cart squeakily, and shuffling some mops around. After a minute, he yelled in surprise as he stuck on his gloves (Harry and gang had perched them innocently on the edge of the cart once more). The door banged open as he strode in, his hand dripping. He washed it in the sink, his face purple and swelling. Slamming down into his desk chair, he muttered angrily to himself (Harry caught words like “immature” and “disgusting” and “fat ugly git”) and pulled a rolled-up piece of paper out of a drawer. He unrolled it and hunched over it, poring over the piece of paper gleefully and muttering triumphantly to himself some more, a strange glint in his eyes. With some satisfaction he rolled it back up five minutes later (Harry vaguely remembered that he was supposed to be back in math class) and stuck it carelessly back into the drawer. Grinning lopsidedly and running his hands through his feathery white hair, he left the room, whispering under his breath, “I’ve got you now.”

They waited. And waited. Finally, exhaling, they stood up warily from their corners. Looked at each other. Smiled. Giggled. The girl became severe (or tried to, anyway) again. “What makes you think I won’t tell on you?” Harry laughed. “Because then you’ll get into trouble too. You hid with us too, you know, instead of taking us straight to Principal Shuffleburger’s—” he snorted over the name “—Principal Shuffleburger’s office.” She looked simply furious, but he merely grabbed her arm (none too gently: his was still sore) and pulled her out the door just in time for the lunch bell to ring.

Together, they found an empty table and ate (“only because if I don’t, you’ll all look too guilty, and all of the teachers know I would never break the rules”). For once, Hermione thought as she took a bite of her sandwich, the Maris girls didn’t say anything now that she was surrounded by ‘friends,’ and boys at that. They just stalked by with their noses in the air.

They ate in companiable silence, until Hermione suddenly said to Harry, “I might as well find out your name if you insist on following me everywhere.” His friends sniggered and poked him, but he looked surprised and told her.

“It’s Harry Potter, but I’m registered as Harry Dursley because I live with my aunt and uncle.” She looked like she wanted to ask him, but she just said, “Hermione Granger” and solemnly shook his hand. They both giggled.

He has a funny sort of birthmark on his forehead, she thought. Oh, it’s a scar. If you look at it from this angle, it’s shaped like a lightning bolt. And she giggled aloud as she thought, It looks quite good on him, really. The boys looked at her strangely, but continued eating, silently inviting her to continue to eat lunch with them. As she swung her schoolbag over her shoulder and brushed her hair out of her face to go to class, she finally felt like she’d made some friends.