Harry Potter and the Heir of Gryffindor

Chapter Thirteen: The Trouble With Harry

Bermuda. The first word out of Harry's mouth was "wow." They pulled into the harbor, the water twinkling happily in the late afternoon sunlight. Harry had never been to a place with Palm trees before, so upon seeing the rows and rows of towering palms that lined the boardwalk, he came to the conclusion that this place simply had to be paradise.

"Oh my stars," Hermione cooed. "This is absolutely gorgeous! And I've been to lots of places and this is just unbelievable!"

They arrived at The Bermuda Inn, which turned out to be a high-rising, sweeping wooden building that was nearly hidden from view off the main street by a cluster of palms. The students entered the Inn, a ceiling of glass rising high above them, towering tropical plants crowding the foyer and lobby along with the sitting sofas. A grand staircase led them up to their rooms-- this Inn was so spacious that the students were assigned two to each. Ron, of course, was Harry's roommate and they flung themselves onto the springy beds giggling with pleasure.

Harry and Ron didn't have too much time to explore their floor, or any of the hotel really, because they were due back downstairs to depart for a tour of the Island. Ron rambled on excitedly as they changed into suitable touring clothes, leaving their Hogwarts cloaks behind due to the warm weather.

Professor McGonagall was wearing thick, black sunglasses, and raised her hands. "Attention, please! We shall be leaving presently, but first I should like to introduce you to our tour guide--"

The lights in the foyer dimmed, cutting off McGonagall's words. She whipped around, visibly startled, as was Harry. A bright lavender spotlight had appeared at the top of the staircase and loud music seemed to be coming from nowhere. A thick French accent boomed overhead:

"Mesdames et Messieurs! I have ze pleasure to annonce to you ze beautiful, ze amazing, ze one et only-- Claudette DuBois!"

Harry's mouth fell and a chorus of Aaahhhs jumped out from the students. Claudette DuBois?!? Every wizard in the wizarding world had, at one time or another, a crush on her! According to what he'd heard of her from Ron, she'd made a very popular song about ten years earlier and became the brightest celebrity in the world-- even outshining Gilderoy Lockhart in sales for one glorious year-- and then was never heard from again.

So this is what she'd been doing since then-- working for the Bermuda Inn?

Ron's tongue was hanging out of his mouth: the music had grown louder and a very pretty witch descended the staircase with robes of pink and salmon flowing behind her. Harry removed his glasses to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Professor Warwick and McGonagall, however, both appeared revolted. And even though Claudette DuBois was very pretty, there was something altogether unattractive about this showy introduction. It was much the same way he'd felt about old Gilderoy Lockhart.

The French announcer was still speaking. "She has woo-ed audiences ze world over with her wit et charm, bewitched zem with her beauty et grace, and has made zem cry at ze serenity of her voice. And now Claudette DuBois, ze most famous personality on ze wizarding music scene has come to you lucky guests here at Ze Bermuda Inn!"

The music climaxed, then stopped, and Claudette stood before them, hands raised as though ready to calm a riotous crowd. The reaction from the students which had, at first, been quite clamorous and excited, had since died down to somewhat lukewarm applause. Harry saw Hermione clench her fists.

"Thank you, thank you mes amies! It is indeed most wonderful to meet you all and I am sure you have all been most interested to meet me, no? We shall have a magnificent adventure today as I show to you all the mesmerizing wonders of this island as only I can!"

Harry raised his brow-- not entirely convinced with her French accent.

"Five sickles says that her real surname is not DuBois."

"She's no more French than I am," Hermione muttered.

"I'm wondering if she knows Gilderoy Lockhart, myself," said Ron with a smirk.

Harry snickered. "Bet he's her designer. Wasn't that his favorite shade of pink?"

Of course, the tour was every bit as horrible as they'd feared. Claudette DuBois never did quite de-mount from her high horse. The students boarded the double-decker tour bus to incredibly irritating "entrance music"-- which happened to be an old hit of Ms. DuBois' called 'Lament of the Bewitched."

The bus took flight to give them an aerial view of the Island and, really, it was so breathtaking that even Claudette DuBois' tendency to break out into operatic song during her narration seemed muted. And thankfully, Professor Warwick sat nearby to them and they could listen into the commentary she was giving as they passed over the island.

"To call the Triangle 'bewitching' is an understatement. Men have stumbled here unintentionally and, upon witnessing its wonders, never once desired to leave her shores again. Here, people become what they have always desired to be and do what they have always desired to do. A 16th century wizard named Gustav van Zeigler called it 'the very definition of witchery itself.'"

Harry, Ron and Herimone were leaning in close to hear her as best they could.

"The Triangle was settled mainly during the middle ages, as natural phenomena made it undetectable by muggle navigation devices and it remains so to this very day. Muggles only very recently -- as of the last century -- became truly aware of its existence and were able to pinpoint its exact location on their maps. Of course we all know that muggles will think of anything to try and explain magic-- many have simply called this place a 'mystery' or a 'myth.' They have given 'rational explanations' to mysterious disappearances of muggles here and, perhaps it is best they have done so."

She peered out the window and pointed, "Ah! We are actually flying over what is known as "Muggle Mile" where the muggles all live-- it's a surprisingly large community and a happy one. All of the muggles here are ones that have been stranded and, when given the option by the Mayor here of either returning home or staying, decided to stay." She laughed. "They're smarter than we think, those muggles."

Claudette DuBois' terrible French accent was getting louder-- she had become aware of Warwick stealing the show. "And we are now flying lower to get a better view of what is ze Island's most impressive feature-- Ze Mineral Pools."

Harry was speechless as they flew by. A cliff-like crag climbed high into the air and a few other crags alongside it. They edged closer and saw natural slides had been formed (over the course of many untold centuries, as Professor Warwick informed them) they braided, and intertwined, winding their way down towards the large sparkling springs below.

"Unbelievable," Harry shouted, "Ron! Did you see that one bloke? He must've plunged thirty feet right into the water!"

The bus landed at the top of the highest peak and the students filed off (Claudette providing "exit music" for their enjoyment)

The students were already running for the long queue to go down the slides.

"Come on, Harry!" Ron shouted, having already magicked himself into what was the standard wizarding swimming attire: white undershirt and white swimming shorts. Harry took a step back, not so sure he wanted to after all.

"Ready, Harry?" Sirius was right behind him.

"Ready?"

"You are going to test it out, aren't you? Can't come all the way to the Triangle and not try out the mineral slides!"

"I . . . dunno."

"Oh come now! Of course you will! Here, I'll hold your wand for you."

Harry was thoughtful for a moment and then caved him. He magicked himself into the same swimming clothes as Ron and then ran to join them in line. Hermione and Parvati teased him gently about his reluctance to have joined them. Both girls had donned black two-piece suits and a very muggle accessory: the sarong.

Harry and Ron both went quiet upon sight of Hermione. Harry should have known that beneath those Hogwarts robes and cloaks there was a beautiful woman-- indeed he'd noticed it all year-- but never as incredibly obviously as it was right then. Hermione, however, quite oblivious to the effect she was having on them (Harry even saw a Slytherin or two gawking at her) and continued chatting with Parvati. If Harry was having trouble focusing with Hermione's presence, he could only imagine what Ron was going through!

It was the suddenly very sporting Hermione Granger who went down the slides first, followed by Parvati, Seamus, Ron and then Harry. It was slick and smooth and he gained speed with every passing second. He heard Ron's familiar screech somewhere down below him, but his was very much alone, the cold wind stinging his face, a branch every so often snapping against his arm-- it was exhilarating! And then, splash! Warm water enveloped his body, the world around him turning aqua blue. The images above him were distorted as he made a swim for the surface.

"Allll Riiiiiight!" He shouted as he burst above the surface. He was laughing, as were Ron and the others.

"Bloody amazing," Ron was saying, excitement crackling through his voice.

Hermione and Parvati were similarly ecstatic and Hermione let the water rushing down from the slides splash upon her face.

"That-was-incredible," Harry was panting, his heart racing, and adrenaline pumping. They laughed and splashed each other-- Harry reveling in the warm loveliness of the waters. He threw a splash at Ron, who retaliated with ten times the force which, of course, sparked a massive battle of the splashes between everyone.

Harry was laughing so hard that he didn't even hear it at first-- a shriek coming from above them.

"It's Neville!" Seamus was shouting, pointing above them.

Harry looked up, squinting to see properly. Neville was shrieking in pain-- even from Harry's distance and bad eyesight, he could see the pain in his face. On his way down the chute, just before he was about to drop into the pools, Neville's arm had somehow tangled up into the branches of an overhanging willow tree and he was caught. His arm bent behind him unnaturally-- it was surely going to break if it hadn't already.

"Someone help him!" Parvati shrieked.

"No one has their wands," Hermione answered quickly.

Harry could hear a couple of Slytherins behind them let out amused chuckles. Harry shot them evil looks and then turned to Ron.

"Someone go tell a Professor! I'll go--"

"But they're all the way up at the top of the peak," said Dean. "There's no way we can reach them!"

Harry's gaze was intensely fixed upon Neville flailing about haplessly, like a fish out of water. His heart was breaking and the laughter trickling over from the Slytherins made his anger boil over like a potions cauldron. He was wishing he had his wand to get Neville to safety and then to blow those filthy, slimy Slytherins out of the water.

Oh Neville-- if only I had my wand! If only I could help you!

You can help him.

Harry shook his head, arguing with the thoughts rushing about in his head.

Don't be ridiculous--

Of course you can. You already are.

And then-- right at that moment-- something funny started happening inside of Harry. It was perhaps more to due with the anger he felt towards the Slytherins than anything else, and something odd started coursing through his body. Ever inch of his body grew tense, and then. . . right before his eyes, the branches seemed to gradually loosen themselves around Neville, delicately, until Neville let out a huge shriek and went pummeling down to the waters below.

"He's loose!" Seamus shouted, rushing towards him. "The branches-- did you see that? They unraveled themselves!"

The rest cheered (except for the Slytherins) and they splashed their way to Neville's side. They threw out questions at him, all at once, Neville assuring each of them that his arm felt perfectly fine!

"It was the strangest thing," said Neville, still visibly shaken, "It was like someone was meticulously untangling them--"

"No one had their wand, Neville. Perhaps the tree itself is bewitched-- that's the only explanation."

"I'm glad you're all right, mate," said Ron eagerly, "it could have been a lot worse, you know. A lot worse!"

Harry was very subdued as the rest of them rambled on about he strange event. The curious sensation had disappeared just as quickly as it had began, but it had surprised him so severely that he could barely move. There was an awful, gnawing feeling that. . . he had done it. He hadn't a wand, so the very idea sounded ludicrous, but. . . he was sure he'd done it . . . he'd felt it . . .

Neville enjoyed himself immensely in the mineral pools and everyone seemed willing to spend the rest of their lives there-- except for Harry. The incident with Neville had most definitely frightened him. When Professor McGonagall appeared to announce that the bus would be departing back for the hotel, Harry was the first one on board.

The only one who noticed Harry's drastic change in demeanor was Sirius who took a seat next to Harry on the bus whilst the rest of the kids carried on. Harry didn't even look at Sirius-- he was too busy replaying the images of the branches inexplicably unraveling themselves.

"You know Harry, when your father used to get this quiet, I used to sit beside him and just wait until he told me what was wrong."

Harry pulled his gaze up to Sirius. Sirius' countenance was immediately soothing, but Harry couldn't bring himself to tell Sirius what he thought he'd done. The very idea-- Sirius would have probably wanted to check Harry into a hospital straight away.

"I'm just . . . confused."

Sirius waited patiently, the silence tempting Harry to unleash his feelings.

"That thing with Neville today. . . I think that I did it. I mean, I think I'm the one who got him out of the branches."

"I had your wand, Harry."

"I know. And that's why I'm so confused. As it was happening there was this voice in my head telling me I could do it. It was like I was telling myself I could do it. But. . . that's impossible." Harry felt like he wanted to scream out of frustration. "I didn't have a wand!"

Sirius' expression was unreadable, but his voice placid. "Accidental magic isn't entirely uncommon, Harry."

"But it wasn't accidental. I wanted it to happen and it did. I've done things before: I set a boa constrictor loose in the London Zoo, I turned my Aunt Marge into a balloon-- those were all on accident. This is the first time I've ever done anything like this, Sirius. Even with a wand, that spell isn't exactly an easy one, and I did it without even an incantation." Harry's voice was shaking as were his hands. The anxiety was so intense that he felt like he was going to throw up.

The bus had landed and the students were filing off. Sirius squeezed Harry's arm. "Let's go in the back entrance." They did so, the air still pleasant and warm as the sun began to set.

Sirius' voice was soft but serious. "It is possible to do what you did today, Harry. But I must stress to you that very, very few wizards can do it. I only know three Free-Handers personally-- and they were only able to do it on rare occasions. Only when the moment called for it-- when there was no other option. And even then, it isn't always successful."

Harry felt dread eating away at him. "Please don't tell me one of them is Voldemort."

"You know it is, Harry. But so can Dumbledore and so could your Father."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. "My father?"

Sirius nodded. "I saw it once myself. Most fascinating thing I'd ever seen. He actually disarmed a death eater by shouting 'Expeliarmus' only. His wand had been destroyed and we were both sure it was then end of our lives-- only he managed it." Sirius smiled. "Old Snape never knew what hit him."

"It was Snape?"

Sirius struggled to keep a straight face. "I'd never seen him so shocked!"

Harry smiled weakly. "I just . . . I wish it wasn't me. I wish I were. . . normal. I don't like these surprises-- discovering I can speak Parseltongue, finding out I'm a free-hander or whatever you called it--"

"Surprises are a part of life-- especially yours. You are who you are, Harry. And the fact of the matter is that you are special. You can't change it, so you're better off embracing it instead of fighting it." Sirius smiled and gave Harry a hug. He buried his face in Sirius' robes, thankful to have someone who understood.

Harry climbed the immense staircase to his room, in a much better frame of mind. The room was empty because everyone was downstairs at dinner. Harry wasn't hungry at all-- no, there was much too much to think about. He plopped down on his bed, itching to do something. That's when he spotted the purple and orange Mystic Pier souvenir bag peeking out from his suitcase. He took it out and retrieved the postcards from inside-- at the pier a vendor had been charging 3 sickles for photographs and 2 extra for turning them into postcards. He smiled at the waving images of himself, Ron and Hermione. It was the perfect time to send an update to Sophie and Dudley.

Sophie:
You would have adored New Orleans! We took these at a wicked amusement park. Right now we are at the Triangle and should reach the Caledonian Forest by Friday. I've been taking lots of photos to show you when I get back! Wish you were here!
Love, Harry

and the other one read:

Dudley:
You're always going on about Pleasure Beach in Blackpool? I bet it's *pants* compared to Mystic Pier! Ron and I even threw up! We're having a brilliant time and today we took a tour of the Bermuda Triangle. Talk about heaven!
--Harry

Harry opened the door to go downstairs to the Owlery, only to be met by Ron who was smiling contentedly.

Harry smiled and tried to scoot past him. "All right there, Ron?"

"There you are, Harry! You all right? We missed you at dinner-- oh did you ever miss a good meal! There was a whole table full of desserts! Oy-- where are you off to then?"

"The Owlery."

"Ohhh, are those the ones from Mystic Pier?" Ron took them out of Harry's hands eagerly. "They came out good, eh?" He turned them over and he chuckled. "Should've known you'd be writin' to Sophie."

Harry snatched them back.

"Admit it Harry. You fancy her."

"Sophie? Oh come on. She's like a sister."

Ron sniggered. "Right. A sister. I don't spend near as much time talking to Ginny as you do with Sophie."

"You know what, Ron?" Harry challenged, stepping back inside the room, shutting the door behind them. "To quote Jake Dugan, people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Here you are, pointing a finger at me when you're the one who doesn't have the guts to admit that you like She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Especially after what happened that night at The Basement!"

Ron stared at his friend and then walked away towards the other end of the room. He ran his fingers through his hair and took a seat on his bed.

"I really do like her, Harry."

Harry had to muster all his strength to keep from shouting out in relief! Instead he joined Ron's side and said, oh so cooly, "You do, really?"

"You have no idea."

Harry was completely still-- not wanting to move too quickly for fear of breaking this most uncommon spell of Weasley candor.

"I liked her last year too, but there was that lousy Krum. And then this year. . ." Ron shook his head.

"What?" Harry prodded, betraying his eagerness.

"it may sound daft, but . . . I thought she liked you, Harry."

"Me?!?" Harry nearly sprang to his feet. "Ron, she's liked you since last year! I tried telling you, but--"

"I know, I know," said Ron grimly. "but I was . . . stubborn. You've always been so close to each other, and when you took her to Sophie's party she looked so happy--"

"I'm close to her like a brother, Ron! And she only went with me to that party because you didn't ask her-- she was happy because you actually paid attention to her that night!"

"--and then I kept telling myself 'no way in hell you're good enough for her, Weasley. She deserves someone important and heroic like you, Harry. Not some penniless nobody like me."

Harry was in disbelief. "Ron! She needs someone like you! You care more about Hermione than anyone else in the world! You're the one that deserves her! You can give her what I can't-- what no one else can for that matter!"

Harry was pleading with his eyes-- Ron had to believe him.

Ron's voice grew quiet. "You know, Dean told me that just before Christmas break, he . . . saw you and Hermione in the hall."

Harry's stomach plunged. "Oh . . ." he dropped his voice. "That."

Ron nodded. "And. . .hell, you're my best mate, Harry. I would never . . . I thought you liked her. I couldn't possibly tell her how I felt. Not when I thought you liked her and vice versa."

"Ron, you couldn't have been more mistaken if you tried! That kiss, it . . . it didn't mean anything. She'd just finished gushing to me about how much she wished you'd care for her and I was being the comforting big brother and . . . we got a little too emotional, the both of us. I stopped it, actually, and told her I couldn't do that to you, Ron. I couldn't when I knew that you two were meant for each other."

"You knew--"

"I knew, yes, of course. And it's been bloody infuriating to wait for you two stubborn mules to admit it to yourselves!"

Ron looked severely troubled. "None of that matters anyway. There's nothing I can do about it now. She'll never-"

"Hermione's feelings haven't changed," said Harry delicately.

Harry and Ron held their stare. Finally, Ron kicked off his shoes and started going about the business of getting ready for bed.

"Crazy what happened today with Neville, eh?"

Harry cleared his throat, not too comfortable with this change of subject. "Y-yeah. Weird."

"I guess maybe Fred and George were right-- the trip is spooked."

"Oh, I'm sure there's a logical explanation."

"Yeah? Such as?"

Harry bit his lip. Should he tell Ron the truth? That it was him? That he's a Free-Hander? No-- Harry could hardly admit such a thing to himself, much less to Ron. Ron had been so very supportive to Harry over the years-- but Harry feared that telling Ron he had a power only shared by the likes of Dumbledore and Voldemort would be a bit too much to swallow. And it certainly frightened the hell out of Harry.

"I . . . dunno," Harry answered finally.

"Oh well, it's over now. Those Slytherins, though. Laughing the way they did at poor Neville. Lucky thing I didn't have my wand, because I'd have blown them right out of the water."

"Me too," Harry agreed eagerly, getting into bed.

Ron carelessly muttered 'nox' and the room fell black and quiet.

Harry finally spoke up. "Ron . . . about Hermione? I meant what I said. Her feelings haven't changed. You just have to trust me on this one."

Ron's voice came quietly, almost at a whisper. "I trust you, Harry."