Chapter 2: 2
Chapter 2
Friends
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Harry's Message
Harry Potter was locked in his room and utterly disgusted with life. He'd no idea how long his uncle and aunt would be out visiting Dudley at the hospital, and Harry was feeling the first pangs of hunger. How long? They might wait at 'Duddydums' bedside forever, because if Dudley had been kissed by a Dementor then he'd never awaken.
The orange glow in the west was all that remained of the day and he longed for the evening's meal. He looked wistfully into the carrier bag. He weighed a snack bar in one hand against the chocolate KitKat in the other. He'd learned from experience to save the best till last. Beans on toast would taste nice about now except he had no way to make toast or even heat the beans. Well, he'd eaten cold beans before and been glad of them.
He picked up his faithful penknife again and worked it carefully around the rim of the can to minimise any jagged edges. Using the hem of his tee-shirt, Harry rubbed away most of the wax from his spoon, then dipped into the beans. They had an unusual flavour but beggars can't be choosers, he told himself, swallowing and digging further into the rich tomato sauce. His spoon bumped something bigger than beans, something hidden in the sauce. Delicately he tilted the can, squinting hard and scooping at the concealed object...
A huge yellow, fleshy surface rolled to the surface and dived again. So repulsive was that one glimpse that Harry squealed girlishly and flung the can away from himself. The metal canister struck the nearest leg of his desk and the contents of the tin slithered out onto the carpet, beans and all. The sickening horror was so large, so animated, so giant-slug-like, that, heart-thumping madly, Harry backed off and crashed into his wardrobe. The creature oozed over on its side and stared at Harry with one big eye. The thing was as fat and round as the bean can – large economy size.
By now, Harry's mouth was gaping so wide, and his brow was so high, that his face ached through the seconds he stood there transfixed. Only when his snowy owl fluttered down to investigate the prospects of making a meal of this curious mollusk did Harry move.
"NO, HEDWIG!" He leapt forward and shooed away the bird. "It might be... not good for you..."
He spat out a couple of mouthfuls of sauce as he tried to dash to the bathroom – only to re-discover he was locked in with this disgusting... what was it exactly? Harry turned again and stared. The slug glistened vacantly in its gooey pool of beans. It wasn't moving. Its great eye didn't follow Harry or even blink. He saw it then for what it was. The large blob wasn't a complete creature: it was only the eyeball.
"YOU GREAT STUPID–!" Harry jumped up and down with an explosive temper. "WHY THE HELL DID YOU PUT THIS IN THE...!" He tailed off. He'd sent it to himself. Why? It couldn't be an accident. Couldn't be a mistake. From the future, he'd taken the trouble to put an eye in a can of beans and bring it back to his earlier self. Was this a treat? Is that what people in 2004 ate?
Harry leaned forward against the door and banged his head against it. "WHY DO THESE STUPID THINGS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME!" Were all the snacks inhabited by exotic, disgusting body parts?
Cautiously, he peeked into the carrier bag, perching it on his knees as he sat down on his bed once more. Which to open next? The peanuts should be safe, he thought. Or chocolate? The snack bars or the biscuits would be more substantial if it was, after all, only food.
He shook the half-crushed packet of Squarios. It rustled and rattled but there couldn't be more than a couple of mouthfuls of crisps inside. Cautiously, he opened it up and tipped the contents out into his hand. For a moment he thought he was looking at individually foil-wrapped Squarios but then he realised they were square badges. Each had 'Youth Advice' engraved on it with a name: Ringo Starr, Madonna Ciccone, Elvis Presley, Marylin Monroe. Bemused, Harry slipped them back in the packet.
The little shortbread tin, he noticed, was a similar width to the bean can but not so tall; did it contain the other eyeball?
Deciding to get the worst over with, he began prising open the biscuit tin. Sugary shortbread neatly arranged in rounded triangular segments begged him to eat them. But were there other layers underneath? Or something else?
He gasped! Through the cracks dividing the biscuits, he thought he'd seen something flicker. Carefully he prised out one piece...
The movement had been simply his own reflection again. For a moment he thought he was seeing himself in the bottom of the tin but a little further examination revealed it was a round mirror. It fitted neatly into the palm of his hand when he took it out, and he dusted off a few biscuit crumbs with the edge of his tee-shirt. Yet another mirror lay below where the first had been in the container. Then another and another until he had four mirrors laid out on his bed as he continued to delve into the shortbread tin. Finally, below a couple of layers of transparent plastic film he saw a few sheets of folded parchment. At last! He opened it and began to read:
Sorry about the drama, Harry, but I remembered Dursley poking his nose in to see what you'd got in the bag. He'd have six fits if he saw what was in the bean can. Whatever you do, don't open it! It's the eye of a young basilisk.
"Aaarrr..." gurgled Harry, unable to stop himself looking again at the round slug on the floor. With a struggle, he composed himself. After all, the snake's eyeball had not killed him so it must be safe. The organ was nowhere near the size of those of the creature he'd killed in the Chamber of Secrets; still, he supposed, its gaze while alive would have been lethal no matter what its dimensions. So why...? He continued reading.
Just joshing you - the basilisk eye is safe for the moment! I knew you'd spill the beans first because, well, I've already done it, haven't I? I daren't change how events will unfold without risking a paradox. Even this letter is the one you gave me – no, I mean, I, myself gave me when I was you, if you see what I mean? Do NOT lose this message! You have to give it to yourself when you're my age! Simple really.
Harry frowned, trying to figure out who had written the message in the first place. The handwriting was definitely his own but if he'd not written it and his future self hadn't either then... he gave up on that puzzle before it gave him a headache, and continued...
Unlike the ones in the Chamber of Secrets, this basilisk eye is intact, undamaged, and being kept virtually alive for a few weeks by my wife's bewitchment. So it's VERY dangerous but only when covered by its eye scale and immersed in snake tears (which I've put in the Coke can–
Coughing, spluttering, and clutching his throat, Harry got to his feet and stared at the drinks can he'd half finished and left on his desk. "You have GOT to be joking!" After a while, he sat down again and picked up where he'd left off:
Yeah, I was just joking. As if I'd put snake tears in a Coca Cola can and give them to myself to drink! No, I put them in the Pepsi! I knew you'd never choose Pepsi before Coke – who would? And don't ask how I got enough snake tears to fill a cola can; you don't want to know. Well, not yet anyway.
"Har... har... so I finally developed a sense of humour," Harry muttered dryly to himself "But even so..." He looked at the gooey eyeball on the floor and the Pepsi can that was just visible inside the bag. "WHY?"
Why? you are asking yourself right now. The answer is that Voldemort has made himself near-immortal so the best way to stop him with a minimal loss of life is to petrify him until Dumbledore and others can deal with the dark magic that would keep Voldemort alive. So what is that magic, you're wondering?
Brace yourself, young Harry. These recent dreams you've had about walking down a corridor towards a locked door, and the pain in your scar – there's a connection between you and Voldemort that was left when he first tried to kill you as a baby. That connection – and others – binds him to this world so he cannot die yet. For this reason, he must remain petrified and concealed until after your natural death – which I hope will be when I am very old! After that he can be permanently destroyed. Meanwhile, the other connections, Dumbledore can destroy. It's not your responsibility to destroy those, Harry; your duty is only to overcome Voldemort so you can live out your own life. There's a prophecy – Dumbledore knows about this – which makes clear that either you or Voldemort must die at the hand of the other. I will now explain to you how...
But Harry wasn't reading any further. Already there was so much to take in that he laid himself back on his bed, the sheets of parchment still clutched in his hands, and pondered his fate. Minutes passed as he stared at the ceiling. I have to kill Voldemort. That's just... great. Then, after a while, I, myself, have to? Not my future self? Before 2004? When? He sifted through the sheets of parchment to find the one he'd reached, then continued reading...
Details of the prophecy and everything else are on the last page but in brief, you'll need friends to help you – that's what the four-way mirrors are for – and, most important, those filmy separators you discarded from the biscuit tin!
Harry swung his legs off the bed and looked around for the bits of plastic wrapper he'd chucked out of the shortbread tin. There they were – they'd drifted onto the floor. He examined them. Both were round, transparent, and slightly baggy, but one was dark like sunglasses. He peered through it but could not see anything special – not much at all actually.
The mirrors came under his scrutiny next. The backs were opaque so they weren't like one-way glass for spying on people. Baffled, he picked up the message once more.
The mirrors are like video phones – one for you and each of your friends. I urge you to practise hand gestures and mouthing words silently. Just whisper or mouth their name, or anything really, and the mirrors will know who you want.
"Cool!" Harry grabbed the nearest mirror and held it up like a microphone. "Hello?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement in one of the other mirrors, and lunged for it. He was in both mirrors! Not his normal reflection but the reflection he'd expect from one mirror was showing in the other one, and vice versa.
"That is so brilliant! Ron and Hermione are gonna love these!" He wondered then who the fourth one was for. Ginny was too young to be involved in anything so dangerous as... he gulped. Reality was beginning to sink in. Voldemort! He was supposed to face Voldemort again? Perhaps in a few years when they've all left school, he'd have the courage. But nagging him was the annoying idea he'd read something to suggest it might be a bit sooner. He scanned back impatiently through the sheets but couldn't find anything, so he continued:
The clear film is actually the eye scale from the Basilisk. This is most important because once you've immersed the eye in snake tears and covered it with the scale then the eye will KILL if anyone even glances in its direction! So make sure you then cover it with the dark film. That way they only get petrified forever! Well, unless someone administers a draught of Mandrake Restorative. Seriously, you'll also need to cover the bean can. For that, you'll notice the body of the can is made of strengthened steel and the biscuit tin fits tightly over the open end like a lens cap to protect it securely. Voilà! You have a deadly, petrifying laser cannon that can be aimed at the enemy. But that task must be entrusted to a friend because YOUR job is to ensure the Dark Lord dies after your own death!
Harry blinked. This was getting to be too much. The sky was darkening outside and Hedwig was flexing her talons in preparation for the nightly hunt. If only Harry's life could be that simple! He reached for the KitKat then changed his mind and opened up a snack bar. A sniff told him it seemed safe enough so he took a bite. It was good so he wolfed it down. Pretty soon his hand reached out for another.
All the information you need is on the last sheet of this message. Study it carefully. The main thing to remember is to gather your friends because the eye won't survive very long so all of this operation must be carried out over the next few weeks.
Harry snorted chewed-up cereal and raisins up his nose and went into a coughing fit. Hedwig, who had spread her wings for flight through the open window, hesitated and turned back to look at her master.
"WEEKS?" spluttered Harry, seizing the Coke can and taking a big swig to clear his throat. "YOU'RE INSANE! That's just brilliant! I go totally Barking mad by the time I'm in my twenties!" He stared morosely at the letter to make sure he'd read it correctly:
"One more thing, do NOT open the KitKat or you'll be dead in seconds – the chocolate contains the most lethal cocktail of caustic contact toxins known to Muggles – but not to dark wizards. Get it?
The bed groaned and creaked as Harry slumped down onto it once more. "Hedwig, you'd better hang on. I've got three urgent messages to send right away..."
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Ginny's Reaction
Ginny Weasley stared in disbelief at the new message from Harry Potter:
Ginny, a sort of secret emergency project has cropped up and I need help with it. It's risky and will take a week or so to finish. I've asked Ron and Hermione too but I need one more. I was wondering if Fred or George might volunteer. Are you all together there in London? The thing is, they're old enough to get away and say it's a holiday or something. What do you think?
If one of them can, then I need to meet him tonight to at least discuss when and where we can get started. Nobody can come here obviously but I've got my Firebolt in my trunk so I can get out the window. Ask them if they know anywhere we can both reach quickly.
I know this is a bit of a rush but I'm really desperate and I don't know who else to turn to. Please help me, Ginny.
Harry
With a very thoughtful expression, Ginny quietly rolled up the parchment and stared at Hedwig on the windowsill. "Hermione's talking to Ron in his room. Have you already given them their messages?"
Hedwig hooted positively.
Ginny hesitated no more. Grasping a small piece of parchment in her right hand, and a quill in her left hand, she sat down to write a reply.
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The Pointing Girl
When a moth flew into Harry Potter's bedroom chased by Hedwig, Harry sprang up to his feet. The moth was snatched from the lampshade by one mighty set of talons, and while Hedwig ate, Harry took the scrap of parchment he saw attached to her leg and read its brief message:
Remember Stoatshead Hill near The Burrow where we took that old boot Portkey to the World Quidditch match? Be there by ten-thirty tonight. It's a long flight but you can make it in less than an hour so best take advantage of the darkness.
Frowning, Harry wondered whether it was Fred's or George's handwriting. Neither Ron nor Hermione had replied yet but it definitely wasn't either of theirs. Perhaps the three had discussed it between themselves and were travelling together? Yes, of course, that must be it. They must all be back at The Burrow, so the hill was very convenient for them.
Quickly he scribbled a note for his Aunt and Uncle to say he was hungry and thirsty and desperately needed someone to talk to so he'd gone to stay with friends and would be back in a week or so, then dropped it on his bed. He stared morosely at the beans stain on the floor, scuffed it uselessly with his foot, and muttered, "Aunt Petunia will go mental when she sees that."
Carefully pushing the refilled carrier bag into his backpack Harry edged out onto the window ledge with his broomstick.
"I'll be away for at least a few hours, Hedwig, but if it's days or even weeks, I know you'll be able to find me. I'll leave the window open for you."
Hedwig hooted and Harry sped off westward along the same route the twins had taken the flying Ford Anglia when they'd rescued him three years earlier. The air was still warm but fresher and more pleasant than down in the streets below. There was no need to soar very high and he could pick out the well-lit roads easily as a guide. It was pleasant after being stifled and locked in his room for hours. He was soon enjoying himself, and the minutes passed swiftly.
By the time the lights of Ottery came into view, Harry was eager to see the surprise on Hermione's face when he outlined his plan. He couldn't tell her and Ron everything at once, of course, but just a little would, he knew, get Hermione agitated and cautious. Still, she'd come round in the end because she'd never let him down yet. Probably Hermione would be the most reliable one to handle the basilisk eye, he thought; she's good in a tight spot. His thoughts went back to how coolly she had got them past the Devil's Snare in their first year at Hogwarts. Neville had tried to stop them that night and she'd dealt with him easily too – not that he was much of a challenge! Still, good old reliable Hermione, he thought happily.
The dark figure waving a dimly glowing wand in the blackness might be her, he thought, as he homed in on the target, descending in a tight spiral to land at her side.
Almost before he landed, she said, "I've borrowed a broom but we can walk from here, if you'd rather."
"Ginny? Wha–?"
"Fred and George have started up a mail order business so neither of them can get away at short notice."
"Did they say that themselves or – what about Ron and Hermione? I thought they'd all come together."
"Harry, they... they thought it was a ruse."
"A what?"
"They thought you were just trying to lure them away so you could uuh... you know, interrogate them as to what's going on."
Harry frowned in the darkness. "Is that what you think too? That it's all made up? That I've got nothing better to do than make up things like... like what happened to Cedric! And Voldemort's back!"
"NO, of course not! I'm here aren't I?"
Harry paused for a moment. "Erm... yes, but... yeah, sorry, Ginny. Thanks anyway for coming out to tell me. Guess I'll have to think of something else."
"You need two more helpers and somewhere to organise whatever you've got in mind. I know just who and where."
She started walking off down the far side of the hill and Harry could do no other than follow, broomstick dragging behind him. "What are you talking about? I need three not two – and not just anybody!"
"It sounded important. It's to do with You-know-who, isn't it?"
"Well..."
"Thought so."
Harry hurried after the girl. "Slow down, Ginny. It's far too dangerous. You can't seriously be thinking of coming yourself?"
"Why not?"
"Just like that? Don't you want to know what's up?"
"You said it was important so here I am." She increased her pace.
"Look, Ginny, you don't have to do this just to..."
"Just to what?" She stopped and whirled around, challenging him.
"Nothing. I mean, it could be dangerous. It will be dangerous"
"What, like some of the stuff you did when you were eleven? Or like rescuing me from Riddle when you were twelve? Or duelling You-know-who now you're 'only' fourteen?"
"Yeah, but I got lucky. Ginny, this is serious–"
"I'll be fourteen in a few weeks time, Harry. Or do you think you're better than I am?" She stomped off down the hill again, a little more huffily.
Harry decided to try another deterrent. "But what about your mum and dad! They'll do their nuts!"
"I told them that Luna – that's my friend – has invited me over for a few days. They don't mind so long as I stay in touch so they know I'm alright."
"Is that where we're going now? To your friend's house? I can't tell her anything, you know."
"Of course you can – she'll be your third man and–"
Harry groaned. "How old is she?"
"A lot older than me and–"
"Well, that's something I suppose. What year's she in? I hope she's sensible and clearheaded in a crisis like Hermione."
"Erm... Oh, and we've another friend coming over tomorrow."
"Who?"
Ginny fell silent as they reached the bottom of the hill and they began to skirt along a little brook until they found stones they could step over.
"Who, Ginny?"
"Huh? ... Oh yeah, it's Neville."
Harry stopped - balanced on a stepping stone in the middle of the stream with his broom to steady himself. "Our Neville? You mean the one at Hogwarts?"
Ginny turned at the edge of the water to face him. "How many Nevilles do you know?"
"Yeah, but, I mean... Neville? Seriously?"
"He's trustworthy and reliable and considerate. He asked me to the Yule Ball when some people couldn't be bothered even though they couldn't find a date at all." She stamped her foot and brook water sprayed into Harry's face. "Oops!"
Dripping, Harry stood transfixed for a few more seconds then he swung his leg over his Firebolt. "Let's fly for a bit. I want to see this Lena before I make up my mind. Is she in Gryffindor? What about her parents?"
Ginny mounted her own broom and they cruised slow and low through the trees. "It's Luna not Lena, and she's a Ravenclaw. Her mum's dead and her dad's away on business."
"He left her on her own?"
"No, she's invited me."
"But I thought you made that up?"
"I did – but he doesn't know."
Harry nearly swerved into a branch trying to figure that out. He was wondering how to get out of this mess. It did seem an interesting development that Ginny, who would be his wife one day, was now entangled with him over this project. Perhaps this is how they are supposed to get closer.
"There it is – top of that hill," said Ginny.
"Is that her halfway down the slope, sending up green sparks?" said Harry.
"Must be. Told you she was sensible."
Harry couldn't remember Ginny saying any such thing but he kept his mouth shut.
"Luna!" Ginny had jumped off her broom and was dragging it after her. Harry did likewise.
"Oooh, this is exciting!" said the girl. She had long straggly blonde hair glowing sickly green in the light from the sparks which were still being sent up into the night sky. Harry had the curious sensation he'd seen her recently – probably at Hogwarts.
"This is Harry," said Ginny.
"Yes. I'm Luna."
Harry nodded. "Look, no offence but my project is kind of private so er..."
"That's nice. I like secret adventures." She began walking up to the house – which looked like a tall tower – still casting the green sparkles upwards.
"Well, it's not just secret, it's really, really dangerous."
"For who?"
Harry pulled a face, unseen in the darkness. "All of us."
"How do you know?"
He appealed to Ginny. "Tell her I don't make things up."
"No, I think she's got a point. How do you know?"
"What do you mean, how do I know! I know what has to be done!" The two of them were beginning to exasperate Harry.
"But sometimes things are not so risky as they seem," said Luna serenely, swirling herself round and round as they walked, so as to send up a spiral of green, yellow, red, and blue stars.
Harry glared angrily at her trivialising his situation. "Oh sure, well if you think breaking into the Ministry, stealing a Prophecy, fighting Death Eaters, and capturing Voldemort is not risky then I guess I must be stupid!"
Ginny stopped on the track. "You're not serious?"
"No, just joking," said Harry. "I was really planning a terrifying safari where we hunt earthworms so we can all go fishing."
"Earthworms are not terrifying and I don't believe we're going fishing at all," said Luna. "You're not very good at keeping secrets, are you, Harry Potter? You need to practise not getting irritable when someone tries to open you up."
Harry flung his arms out in annoyance at the girl who seemed to think this was just an amusing diversion. More coloured lights were flaring into the heavens.. "Would you please. Stop. Doing... that..." He paused and stared up at the sky. The firmament was aglow with very precise patterns – a celestial sphere of colour gently rotating and descending around them, all guided by this flimsy little girl.
""How'd you mix and smear so many sparks like that – and so exactly?" he murmured, transfixed by the splendour, even as it began to fade.
"It's just painting the sky," said Luna.
"But the Ministry will–"
"Oh, Daddy leaves his magic hat at home so the Underage Trace thinks he's still here. Otherwise how could anyone make tea or wash the dishes!"
"Told you she was smart and capable," said Ginny. "You need someone who's smart and capable."
But Harry was still gazing up at the exactitude of Luna's light show. "What I really need," he murmured thoughtfully, "is someone who can point very, very accurately."
He turned to Ginny. "How would you like to get back at Lucius Malfoy for what he did to you with that diary?"
Luna cried, "Ah, her nemesis – so it's fate! ... Except Bellatrix is in Azkaban, so that can't be right."
Harry stared at the girl in what remained of the colours raining down around them. "How on Earth could you know she's involved?"
"I told you Luna works things out better than anyone," said Ginny.
Harry didn't even raise an eyebrow. "What if I told you that because I'm here tonight, there's going to be a big breakout of Death Eaters from Azkaban?" he said to Luna. "I mean, Voldemort intended it for next year but because very soon everyone will say Harry Potter has gone missing, then You-know-who will hurry his plans along.
"I would say you know the future somehow. Yes, that would be right then," she added dreamily, almost to herself.
Luna led them indoors directly into a quaintly-rounded kitchen dining area which was softly lit by a host of candles around the walls and on cupboards. Her hair was luminous in the candle glow and again Harry had the strangest sensation he already knew her. But she looked very young and he shook his head.
"What did you mean, 'nemesis'? How'd you know so much?"
"Well you planned it very cleverly so Ginny gets revenge on Lucius Malfoy; Neville avenges his parents by recapturing Bellatrix Lestrange; you, Harry, capture You-know-who; and I... I don't know what I do," she added almost mournfully. "I almost wish I had a nemesis."
"Luna," said Harry softly. "I never planned it this way and you're wrong about me capturing Voldemort. You are the one who must capture him while I finish him off once and for all."
Luna's stare was unreadable.
"So we're set?" asked Ginny in a hopeful tone.
Harry sighed. "No. It does seem fated I must admit, but..." He looked more closely at Luna now she was in the light then frowned. The girl looked as dotty as she sounded, with a bottle cork necklace and what appeared to be tiny vegetable earrings. As he studied her, she tucked her wand behind one ear like a pen. His frown deepened suspiciously. "How old are you Luna?"
"Why, I'm the same age as you, Harry," she replied brightly. "I'm fourteen."
"But I'll be fifteen in a matter of weeks!"
"Me too! Every fourteen year-old will be!" she said excitedly." She pointed up the metal spiral staircase in the centre of the room. "Ginny's sleeping with me. What about you?"
Harry's eyes bulged. "No, no! I'll manage, erm..." He looked wildly about the kitchen, his cheeks suddenly hot.
Ginny giggled. "She means where would you like to sleep, Harry. There are a couple of couches on the next floor up."
"Uuh... yes, but don't you want some er... privacy?"
"Boys!" Ginny shook her head. "The bedrooms are on the floors above that."
"Ah, right..."
"I like boys," mused Luna, distantly.
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