A Harry Potter Story
By J.K.
No, not Rowling
fan-fiction
by
Jim Katz

For Atmo who couldn't waitto read another Harry Potter story

Chapter 1 - The Dursleys
When a wizard dreams about flying, he really has great dreams, and Harry Potter was doing that now. He was soaring and whirling and wheeling and rolling. He could feel the wind in his hair and the sun on his face. When he dived he felt his stomach get confused for a second, and it was exciting, not scary. When he pulled up he could feel gravity trying futilely to pull him down, and he felt victorious. He rose again and rolled over and over just for fun, like dolphins in the ocean he had seen in pictures. Righting himself, his robes wrapped around the broomstick he was riding. Red and gold robes - he was dreaming of a Quidditch game. He peered around for the tiny Golden Snitch. He was the seeker, and his job was to catch the Golden Snitch as the tricky little winged gold sphere flew about the pitch. He spied it almost instantly (this was a dream, after all) and zoomed straight for it, oblivious to any opposing players or the other obstacles, the dangerous bludgers - heavy balls charmed to slam into any players they could. Harry caught up to the Snitch just as it darted around behind a goal post. Harry pulled his broomstick into a sharp turn and circled the post but the Snitch kept circling as well and stayed hidden, just on the other side of the post. Harry did a quick reverse but the Snitch pulled the same trick. Then the Snitch zoomed upwards while still hidden behind the goalpost and Harry lost it for a moment. Looking everywhere he just caught a flash of gold at the top of the goal in the sunlight. A quick climb brought him into range. He tightened his knees on the broomstick and let go with his hands, reaching out and grabbing the Snitch just as it was beginning a dive. Snitch, Harry and broomstick all tumbled and seemed headed for a crash into the ground.
Harry heard the crowd shouting his name: Harry, Harry, they were shouting - no, they were whining! The voice was whining like - it was Dudley Dursley. Aargh! Harry started to wake up as Dudley continued to whine "Harry" at him. Harry opened an eye and Dudley's piggish face filled his vision.
"Harry, there's one of those horrid owls banging on the window and it's the middle of the night." Dudley whined louder. "Owls like to fly at night. That's what they do." Harry said, reasonably. "Well get this one to stop or I'll tell my Dad you're getting letters That way' again." "Okay, okay, let me open the window and get it." Harry opened the window and the little owl shot in and flew a turn around the room, sending Dudley running out the door. The owl was not Pigwidgeon, Errol, Hedwig, or any other one Harry knew. It was a public Postal Owl and Harry wondered who could be sending him a letter this way.
Dudley was peering around the doorway, not wanting to miss any juicy bit of nasty business Harry was up to that he might report to his father, Harry's Muggle Uncle Vernon. "Go away, Dudley, or that pig's tail will be back on your behind," Harry threatened, and Dudley ran away faster than a wizard could disapparate.
Opening the parchment letter, Harry was really pleased to see it was from
Hermione:
"Dear Harry,
Would you be interested in leaving your aunt and uncle's house a bit early this summer? We can meet at Ron's and spend the last few days of the holidays together for some fun. I have a special idea in mind. If you can get permission, we will come and collect you."
Sincerely,
Hermione
Harry was overjoyed at the thought of getting away from the Dursley's, as always, and figured that it would be even easier this time, because things were not going well between them. Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and cousin Dudley were all pretty unhappy having Harry around at the best of times. These were not the best of times.
Harry had brought home a lot of trouble from Hogwarts this summer. Dudley was always poking around in Harry's stuff, and had found a lot of things he should never have touched. The real problem was that Dudley never seemed to learn that it was possible to leave food without eating it. He perfectly well knew that sweets Harry had brought from Hogwarts had a good chance of not being quite what they appeared; but if it looked edible, Dudley was going to stuff it in his piggy face. To make matters worse, Dudley was on a diet! Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were trying once again to get him to lose weight and were feeding him mostly grapefruit, water, and the occasional steamed vegetable. Dudley was starving and even less able than usual to resist sweets. First there were the Ton-Tongue Toffees that Dudley found in Harry's robes pockets. Dudley had eaten one of them before, and should have known better, but there he was, screaming in panic as his tongue swelled up to be half the size of the rest of his body. This was quite a feat as Dudley was about the size and shape of a small car these days! Luckily, Harry had learned to counter the hex from Ron's brothers George and Fred Weasley. They were the makers of this little treat, and inventors of Wizard Wheezes, a line of other funny stuff. Dudley dug around in Harry's dresser another time and found a packet of Canary Creams by the same distinguished pair of jokers. Canary Creams had the temporary effect of causing anyone who ate one to transform into a giant canary. After about an hour, usually spent indignantly chirping and singing and flapping feathery wings, the eater would molt and be his or her regular self again. The trouble was, Dudley ate four at once. He just had time to walk into the living room where his parents were sitting when he transformed into a singularly ugly four-headed eight-legged bird with more feathers than a flock of turkeys. Aunt Petunia started screaming and crying and practically had kittens. Uncle Vernon Went apoplectic and couldn't speak, which was probably a good thing for Harry. Uncle Vernon never had anything good to say about Harry, and if his incoherent burbling and growling this time were translatable, Harry would find himself roundly cursed. By the time Dudley was back to normal it was clear that the problem was Dudley's total greed, and Harry escaped major punishment.
Finally there was the bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans that Dudley started munching. He was lucky in his first three choices: strawberry, toast and eggnog. Then he crammed a whole handful into his mouth that turned out to be anchovy, litterbox, old sock, worm, and three kinds of medicine flavours. He screamed and ran to the bathroom, and Dudley became the first kid Harry had ever heard of who voluntarily washed his mouth out with soap. Several times!
It was the most effective part of Dudley's diet to date. Dudley refused to put anything else in his mouth for a whole day.
Uncle Vernon called Harry on the carpet for all this, finally. Normally he preferred not to talk to Harry at all, but the next best thing to ignoring Harry was yelling at Harry, and this was certainly reason enough in his mind. "Potter, what are these things? Why do they make them?" asked Uncle Vernon. "No, don't tell me - I don't want to hear about it." What are you doing bringing home such dangerous things? Do you have it in for my dear boy? If you are trying to harm a hair on his head I will throw you out this instant. This time Harry said nothing. It certainly had occurred to Harry that a starving Dudley might go through his stuff for food. But Harry never thought that this would happen. Not all of this! Not every wonderful, juicy, excellent moment of all of this. Harry tried hard not to smile continuously as Dudley dug himself in worse and worse each time. It would even be worth the disapproval of the Misuse of Magic department of the Ministry of Magic if it ever came to that. He figured things would be okay, though. Technically, he wasn't actually DOING any magic, just leaving the hexed treats in his own stuff. And he hadn't even hexed them in the first place. And the Dursley's already knew about magic, even if they didn't like it. And Dudley so richly deserved every bit of it!
Anyhow, Harry now figured that the Dursley's would be very happy to see the last of Harry for the summer, and he was right. When he told Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia about the invitation they were anxious for him to take it up as soon as possible. Uncle Vernon asked: "I want to know one thing: Just how are these people going to pick you up? I want no lunatics exploding out of the fireplace and ruining my living room. And no flying cars scaring the whole neighbourhood. And no funny looking people in strange clothes coming to the door." "Don't worry," said Harry, "Hermione has a mugŠ uh, I mean a normal family. They're dentists - and they are coming to pick me up." "Normal, hey? I'll believe that when I see it. I've never seen any normal friends of yours yet! Anyhow, get ready, and the sooner you get out of my sight the better," said Uncle Vernon with his usual bad humor as far as anything to do with Harry was concerned. "Why don't you telephone her and say you'll be ready straight away." Uncle Vernon smiled a little evilly when he said this. It was sort of a challenge to Harry to prove they really were normal people and had a telephone. Harry had carefully saved a bit of parchment with Hermione's telephone number on it for just such an occasion. Even so, it was a bit of an adventure for Harry to make the call. He had never actually made a telephone call in his life. The Dursleys never let him get to know anybody to call, and they wouldn't allow him to answer the phone very often, either. They really tried to make believe Harry didn't exist as much as they could. Harry picked up the telephone, and started to dial the number. He had a few little problems, starting with how to hold the parchment, the telephone, and still have a free finger to dial with. If he was allowed to use magic he might have conjured up a third hand for the parchment. He finally figured out you put the parchment on the table where you can still read it. He dialed the number very carefully to be sure he got it right.
Harry didn't know the Grangers very well and was relieved when Hermione answered the phone herself. "Hello".
"Hi Hermione, it's Harry Potter."
Hermione could tell as soon as she heard Œhi' that it was Harry, but thought it was cute that he said his whole name. "You got my owl! Can you come? I really have a great idea. It's some school homework actually, and I think you and Ron and I could have a lot of fun together."
Hermione had launched right into her conversation enthusiastically, and Harry wasn't quite sure how to squeeze a word in between. It seemed different on the telephone. Finally she stopped for breath, and Harry said: "Thanks for the invitation Hermione. Yes, I can come, and the sooner the better. The only thing is, the Dursleys would really be a lot more comfortable if I was picked up in a sort of normal Muggle way." Hermione said: "I understand and was planning that already. My mother has a day off Friday and we'll collect you and your school things around noon. Is that okay?"
"It's more than ok, it's fantastic. I'll be ready." Harry enthused. "See you then, Hermione, good-bye and thanks for the call and the invitation and everything. Good-bye."
Harry hung up the telephone and felt a bit of an idiot about what he said at the end. He was the one who called, after all, so he didn't really need to thank her for the call. He had also said good-bye twice. Well, he was excited and this was his first phone call anyhow. He was sure Hermione understood.
Harry also wondered what the special project was. Typical Hermione to be working on school homework through the summer, but what could it be that would be so much fun for Ron and Harry, too? The rest of the week went by quickly and slowly both at once! Harry had to pack up his trunk and collect his stuff, but he also had to wait until Friday. Dudley pretty much stayed out of his way. He was happy to get his second bedroom back for the school year. Dudley was also scared that Harry might have a parting Œgift' or something to ruin his life.
Finally Friday arrived. Harry woke early and helped Aunt Petunia with breakfast.
"Have you packed everything, Harry?" Aunt Petunia asked? "You don't want to leave any of your sort of things around, and my Dudley needs his space, you know." "Yes, Aunt Petunia." Harry replied. "I'll check and make sure everything is just perfect for Dudley." Aunt Petunia didn't need to look to hear the sarcasm in Harry's voice. This breakfast was actually one of the nicer times. Uncle Vernon was smiling for a change. Harry could almost fool himself into thinking this was a normal mealtime in a normal happy family. Not for long, though. "You know why I'm smiling, Harry?" Uncle Vernon asked, just to rub it in. "You know what is making me so happy, Harry?" "Take a guess, you nasty little mutant." Harry said nothing, if he had learned anything, it was that Uncle Vernon never wanted to hear from him; and sure enough he continued, answering his own question. "I'm happy because I will soon see the back of you for the best part of a year; that is why I'm happy. In fact I won't even see your back." Uncle Vernon actually laughed at his little joke. It was not a pretty sound.
Harry kept his silence, and didn't let on that he was thinking pretty similar thoughts. After breakfast Harry went back to his room, collecting his last bits together and cleaning up the room so Dudley could mess it up with his broken toys, old computers, and other stuff again. Every few minutes he took a look out the window, hoping to see Hermione and her mother arriving.
One time finally paid off! There they were, pulling up to the door in a large taxi. Harry ran to the door and pulled it open just as his friends started up the step. Dudley was yelling: "Dad, Mom, Harry is using magic again - he knew they were here and nobody rang the bell." "Shut up, you jerk," said Harry. "I was looking out the window." I will be so happy to leave this place, he thought.
Hermione was first through the door.
"Harry, great to see you," and a big hug. Harry felt so good he could have - well he did: he kissed her! Next in the house was Ron! Harry didn't know Ron was coming and was overjoyed. "Are you set to go?" Ron asked. "You bet," said Harry. Mrs. Granger followed them in and Harry greeted her with pleasure as well. She said: "Hi Harry, you're looking good. Introduce me to your family." "Okay, Mrs. Granger, this is my Aunt and Uncle Petunia and Vernon Dursley, and my cousin Dudley is around here somewhere as well.
Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were standing in the kitchen doorway, not really wanting to get involved. Uncle Vernon really was there to find something strange about Harry's friends, so he could insult them. Aunt Petunia managed a stiff but civil greeting; Uncle Vernon grunted, and Dudley was hiding in the kitchen. "Pleasure to meet you, I'm sure," said Mrs. Granger in a voice Harry remembered hearing from Hermione first year, on the Hogwarts Express train. He thought with a grin: "Aha! I see where that comes from." It is a very special greeting, meaning something between ŒI don't have time for foolishness,' and Please remove that dead fish, it stinks.' "Harry, go get your school stuff and we'll not bother the Dursleys any further," said Mrs. Granger. Ron and Harry wrestled the big trunk down the stairs, and with the driver's help all was loaded into the taxi. Strained good-byes all around and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Granger boarded the taxi and drove off.
Mrs. Granger said: "Harry, I don't know how you stand it. How to you manage to live with those people?"
"I stay because Professor Dumbledore asks me to, and he has never steered me wrong. It isn't as bad as all that, though. They are my only family, after all." It sounded as if Harry was trying to convince himself. "Well, maybe they are your relatives, but I think you have a lot of family, between your friends, Hogwarts, and everyone who loves you in the Wizarding world. I hope you will consider us as friends also," said Mrs. Granger, "and if you need some more family - you can come to us." "Thank you, Mrs. Granger. I really appreciate that."
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Chapter 2 - The Burrow

Harry's heart began its annual melt. He relaxed and looked out the window quietly for awhile. Finally, he said: "It really is great to see you all. I feel like I can breathe again after holding my breath for the whole summer. What is the plan? Hermione, your owl was about a special project?"
Before Hermione could say anything, Ron piped up: "Hermione, have you been overdoing the homework again. Tell me this is not more homework."
Don't be a we blanket, Ron," Hermione started to say "this is going to be fun. I was reading"
"Here it comes," groaned Ron, "she's been reading!"
"Give her a chance," Harry said, "I'm ready for any idea at all after my summer. What is it, Hermione?"
"If certain people will give me a moment, I'll tell you," Hermione said. Giving Ron a frosty look. "I was reading in Hogwarts, A History' and came across the name of Sir Isaac Newton, the famous scientist. It seems that he was a wizard, also! I thought we could go down to London a couple of days early and go see an exhibition on him that is at the British Museum when we go to get our school things. We are invited to stay with the Weasleys through the weekend and I already booked us rooms at the Leaky Cauldron in London. We'll do our Hogwarts shopping on Monday, tour about on Tuesday and Wednesday and catch the train Thursday."
"You're a regular package-tour operator, Hermione! Said Ron, more enthusiastic now. It does sound like there's some fun in there. What do you think, Harry."
It sounds terrific, Hermione. Living with the Dursleys, I've had no chance to see stuff. I'm sure I'll love it - unless you make me take notes."
"No notes; it'll really be fun," promised Hermione.
Mrs. Granger asked: "Are you three going to be okay in muggle London? There is still some danger isn't there?"
"Mother, we talked about this already," Hermione reminded her. "Voldemort has been in hiding since the Tri-Wizard tournament. He knows every Auror and every department of the Ministry of Magic is out looking for him. He would never show himself in London right now."
"Still, you'll have to be careful." Mrs. Granger continued. "I talked to
your mother when we picked you up, Ron. She told me that several of the
Hogwarts teachers are attending Ministry meetings in London, and if you see the slightest trouble, contact them immediately."
"Speaking of trouble, how are we going to pay for what we do in muggle London, anyhow?" asked Ron.
"My treat, said Mrs. Granger. "You are both such good friends to my Hermione, that I want to do this for you as a treat."
"Mother, you don't have to buy me friends." Hermione looked a little worriedly at Harry and Ron.
"Don't worry, Hermione, we know it's not like that," said Harry. "Thank you very much Mrs. Granger, we will really enjoy ourselves. "
"That's right," said Ron, "even if it gets a bit like schoolwork. Well be together and we really do enjoy that."
"Thanks, boys. I will take your trunks to the train station, and you can pick them up when you are ready to board the Hogwarts Express. We're nearly at Ron's house. Do you have everything you need, Hermione?" "All set Mom. Thanks for everything. Don't worry about me." Hermione said.
The taxi pulled up in front of the Burrow, as everybody called the Weasley's, and Harry Ron and Hermione got their stuff together, waved goodbye and hurried up the path to the house. Mrs. Weasley was standing on the top step smiling and hugged everybody as they crammed into to the doorway.
"Hi all. Harry, you're looking skinny; we're going to have to feed you. How are you Hermione? Ron, bring the bags to the rooms. Hermione can share with Ginny and Harry is with you, of course. Dinner is in two hours. "Harry and Hermione, go out to the garden and Ron will bring out some lemonade and cookies." Mrs. Weasley barked out greetings and orders like the general of a small army, which she pretty well was, with a husband and eight children!
Harry was happy just to arrive at the Weasleys'. His visits to the Burrow were the highlight of Harry's life outside of Hogwarts. When Harry was with the Weasleys he felt he was part of a real family. They loved him like a brother and they treated him like an ordinary person. That was precious to Harry, too. In most other places Harry was Œdifferent'. In the Dursley's house, home of his muggle Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and cousin Dudley, Harry was feared and hated for his wizard powers. In the wizard world itself Harry was famous for defeating Lord Voldemort. Everyone wanted to see his lighting-scar, or get his autograph, or something; and some people were afraid or jealous of him, too. Nobody treated him as just another person. He got to feeling very uncomfortable and lonely even among wizards sometimes. The Weasleys were different. Ron and Harry were best friends; Mr. Weasley was like a real Dad, and Mrs. Weasley worried about everybody and took care of all the things a Mom does, for Harry and the rest of the large Weasley family. The bumps in the road were worth the journey. There was the little problem of little sister Ginny Weasley, who hero-worshipped Harry. Fred and George Weasley picked on Harry rather a lot with their practical jokes. That was not because he was Harry Potter, it was because he was the new kid in the place, who hadn't seen all their jokes yet. He might not let them know, but Harry loved every minute of all of it.
Out in the garden Harry and Hermione talked about the museum trip. "I've never really been to London to look around," said Harry; "is the museum really special?" "My parents have taken me to the British Museum loads of times. It is one of the biggest in the world and has all sorts of collections. You're going to love it Harry." Hermione answered. "This exhibit on Sir Isaac Newton is only on for a short time. They have so much stuff that they can't exhibit more than one or two percent of it at a time." Ron and Mrs. Weasley arrived with the lemonade and cookies, and the discussion was interrupted for awhile. There were always fresh-baked really good cookies in two or three varieties, and it was always a game to choose the best of the day. Right now chocolate chip was winning over peanut butter, but oatmeal-apricot-jam-dots was making a convincing pitch for first place!
Hermione asked: "Mrs. Weasley will Mr. Weasley be home soon?" "No, I'm sorry, Hermione, but he is staying in London for a few days, there are the usual pre-term meetings, plus all the security planning this year, now that you-know-who is dangerous again and still somewhere unknown." "Is there anything you can tell us, Mom?" asked Ron. There is a bit of good news. Arthur couldn't tell me much, but he said things will be pretty much normal. Professor Dumbledore spoke at the Ministry to all departments and had some sort of reassurance for them." "I'm glad to hear it," said Hermione, "I guess we'll hear what's going on when we get to school. When Mr. Weasley does get back, please give him this package. It's for his collection." "That's very nice of you," said Mrs. Weasley, "what is it?" "My muggle cousins in America sent me a dozen different electric plugs. I bet Mr. Weasley doesn't have these."
"Now don't go encouraging my husband's silly collecting, Hermione. I'm sure he'll love them, though."
Harry was still thinking about Voldemort. "How come they can't find him, anyhow? Couldn't someone just send him a letter and follow the owl?" "Nice try, but no," Ron replied. "I asked Dad about that, because his department is working with Magical Law Enforcement all the time. He told me you can't find somebody by sending him an owl post letter and following the owl. For one thing post owls aren't always visible when they fly, and even a Firebolt couldn't keep up with a magical owl. You can't ask them where the have been, and remembering it isn't their job, anyhow. Some Ministry of Magic detective wizards tried shrinking elephants because of their long memories. They wanted to tie the elephants onto the owls so they would remember the route. The trouble was that few owls could carry even a miniature elephant, and besides, elephants don't talk either. I think there's also something about owl mail only working if you want to get mail. You can perform an exclusion spell and be unfindable."
The talk turned to the museum trip.
How are we getting to London, Hermione?" Harry asked.
"We'll use floo powder. There's a special fireplace room at the Leaky Cauldron just for that. A lot of people travel through there when they need to go into London. We can leave our bags there also, since we have the rooms booked. From there it's a simple trip across town to the museum." "What is so interesting about that Sir Isaac Newton exhibit you want to see, anyhow?" Asked Ron. Hermione aswered excitedly: "He was amazing! I originally wanted to study him for my Muggle Studies course, but then I found out he was a wizard. He managed to be a physicist, philosopher, alchemist, mathematician, and more in the muggle world. The exhibit has some of his own books and laboratory equipment. He was also a success in the wizarding world as well. In ŒHogwarts - A History' I read that he was both Potions and Arithmancy Master at the same time.
"I wonder if there is anything of his magical life there," said Ron. "That would be really cool. Wouldn't it be great if there was a Hogwarts robe or a cauldron or something?" Harry said: "They might not even know it is magic stuff. Even in those days the wizarding and muggle worlds were separate, right?" "I bet we can find some wizarding things. This is sounding more like fun and less like homework," said Ron, "I'm in, Hermione!"
The three friends talked about their summers, and enjoyed a game of ŒOwl-Post' with the Weasley family's old retired owl Errol. Much too old and feeble to deliver the mail, Errol still liked to do his job. Ron, Harry, and Hermione took turns writing each others' names on a tiny scrap of parchment, tying it on Errol's leg for him to deliver to the other end of the garden to where the Œadressee' stood. Errol tottered along and managed to fly a few feet each time. He always got more or less to the right person, and seemed to be having fun.
The weekend also flew by, and Monday morning's trip to London was soon at hand. Breakfast was not as rushed as usual in the Weasley household. In fact, the only people on hand were Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Harry, and Hermione. Mr. Weasley and Percy were still in London at the Ministry meetings. Ginny was helping a first-year girl with her Hogwarts shopping, and twin brothers Fred and George, were enjoying a last weekend of their vacation with some friends. The twins were now of age, and had learned to apparate. They were trying out their new skills wizard-trekking in the Himalayas in Nepal.
Wizard-trekkng consisted of exploring mountains and caves, and when you got to an impossible spot, you just disapparate from it to the next peak or hole! The fun for newly of-age witches and wizards was in honing your accuracy. It could be dangerous if you aimed for a two-foot patch of ground on top of a mountain and missed by a few inches. Cave apparating was even more fun, because you had to take the height and width of spaces into account. Of course Mrs. Weasley had warned them "It's all fun until someone puts an eye out on a stalactite."
Once breakfast was out of the way, Ron, Harry, and Hermione collected their bags and headed for the living room fireplace. Mrs. Weasley said: "Does everybody have their tickets and everything? You know how crowded it gets at the train station on Thursday. I don't want anyone missing the train. No Œalternate transportation', okay? She shot a look at Ron and Harry. They had flown the Weasley's old car up to school one year and caused all sorts of havoc. "We have everything, mom," said Ron, "and we'll be okay." "I'll be at the train with George and Fred and Ginny anyhow, but I just want to be sure," said Mrs. Weasley with her usual motherly concern. "Now be careful", she fussed as she worriedly straightened collars on Ron and Harry (Hermione was, of course, looking just perfect,) "You don't want to get lost or do anything to scare the muggles. You really should keep to Diagon Alley as much as you can." "Mom," said Ron exasperatedly, "We're only going to help Hermione with her Muggle Studies project. We have to spend some time in muggle London." This was, of course, only partly true as Harry and Ron were eager to look around in other places as well, but no need to worry mom with the truth.
She took out her wand and lit the fireplace for them to use, and poured out some floo powder for each of them. "Sorry to make you heat up your house on such a hot day," Harry said. Oh, don't worry about that, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, "We have to do it so often that I found a Flammafrigidus charm in an old spellbook to keep things cool. We sometimes light the fireplace with that spell for air conditioning on really hot days." With that Harry, Ron and Hermione threw their floo powder, one at a time, into the fire, clearly stated ŒLeaky Cauldron,' and had the slightly stomach-churning experience of flying past many fireplaces to their destination.
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Chapter 3 - The Leaky Cauldron
Harry still didn't quite have the knack of floo-powder travel, and he tumbled out of the Leaky Cauldron fireplace rather ungracefully. It was a soft landing, though. They landed in a side room of the place. The hearth was surrounded with soft pillows. Apparently a lot of travelers weren't too steady on arrival! The trio brushed themselves off, gathered up their things and went into the Leaky Cauldron proper. It was pretty crowded for a Monday morning, and there were the usual greetings for the famous Harry Potter. "Is it really you? Good to see you, Mr. Potter," from a regular at the Cauldron. "Ooh, Mr. Potter, can I Braille your scar? Just run my fingertips over it?" from an elderly blind witch. "Most pleased to meet you, sir" from a house elf, and even a nod of respectful recognition from a Gringott's goblin.
Harry never knew quite what to make of this fame. He had learned what the defeat of Voldemort had meant to the wizarding world at that time, but Harry really did not feel he deserved to be famous for it. He was just lucky enough to have had the most courageous and loving of mothers, and got a certain immunity from her sacrificing her life to save his. What Harry had learned to do was, when he heard people greeting him with affection and gratitude, he heard it as really thankfulness to his mother. This thought took him off the hot seat, and was a way he could accept their feelings without getting too shy and uncomfortable about it. These days, of course, there was another matter. Voldemort was back, and no amount of looking to the past was going to change that. He might be lying low for now, but sooner or later something was going to hit the fan. Harry had the feeling he would be in the thick of it again. For the moment, all Harry needed to do was say hello, and thread his way through the place with Ron and Hermione. They were shown to their rooms, and left their bags, eager to get to the day's fun of going into London. Heading for the front door, they met up with old Tom, who runs the Leaky Cauldron.
"Tom, could you tell us how to get to the British Museum from here?" Hermione asked the elderly proprietor. "Of course, dear. You just go out the door. The museum is right across the street," answered Tom. "How can that be," Hermione said, a bit mystified. "When my parents bring me to the museum, and then to get my school things in Diagon Alley, we go in entirely different directions. "Ah, that is a special service for guests of the Leaky Cauldron, my dear. When you stay here, that front door leads to wherever it is you want to go in the city. Just as the secret door in the back always leads to Diagon Alley. The Leaky Cauldron entrances are, shall we say, somewhat flexible in location and number." We'll be here when you get back. "That's wonderful. Thanks, Tom; we'll be back later." Hermione was duly impressed with this bit of magic. It was a surprise even to her.
Ron, Harry and Hermione stepped out of the front door of the Leaky Cauldron into muggle London. Almost as soon as they stepped out the door, the entrance became all but invisible. There was no hint that the place was anything at all to a muggle. At best it looked like a dim doorway on a side street. That is, unless you were a wizard or witch. Harry had learned to see the sign of the Leaky Cauldron when he was there with Hagrid, and now could find the place quite easily. "Should we head straight to the museum?" Harry asked. Ron answered: "I'm famished. How about finding a restaurant for lunch first?"
"We could have eaten at the Leaky Cauldron," Harry said.
"I know, but this is a Œmuggle world' trip, and I would love to try someplace with different foods," Ron explained. "Mrs. Granger gave Hermione a budget for everything." "That's true Harry," Hermione chimed in, "and I think it would be fun." You've told me how little interesting food you ever got from the Dursleys. "And I've hardly ever had muggle food at all, living in a totally wizarding family, said Ron. "Let's try some new stuff." "Fine with me," agreed Harry, "any ideas where to go?" "As a matter of fact, I do." Hermione answered with a smile. "My mother told me to take you to a little place just a short walk from the museum. She thought it would be just what you'd like. They have all the fast foods and a giant menu so you can mix and match your own choices."
They easily found the place - it was practically right next door - and it looked perfect. A large, bright restaurant with friendly-looking waiters and waitresses, big booth tables, and a floor-to-ceiling window on the street for people-watching while you eat. Hermione was very sensible, ordering a vegetable soup with biscuits and jam, a fruit cup, and tea. Harry and Ron were enjoying their freedom much too much for such good sense. They tried bits and pieces of all sorts of food, ordering small servings of as many wild combinations of different dishes as they could imagine. They ate and laughed through pretty well the entire menu, amid some very strange looks from a cooperative, but rather amazed waitress. Luckily Harry and Ron both felt full just before the dill pickle and strawberry jam sandwiches were served.
They were having such a hoot that nobody noticed the time, and what had started out as a quick early lunch was suddenly a three-hour meal. The time had vanished, and with no magical help, either, They talked about what to do next. It was getting pretty late to go to the museum, and each of them had another errand in mind anyhow. Ron wanted to go to a muggle joke shop and see if he could find some stuff that was different from what he could get at Zonko's in Hogsmeade. George and Fred, Ron's twin older brothers, seemed to have the family patent on playing jokes on everyone and Ron would love to get some of his own back by being the first with a joke or two on them. Hermione wanted to go to a bookstore, and Harry was pleased to look around at anything. It was pretty well all new to him. The Dursleys almost never let him out of the house, and certainly not to go sightseeing with them. For one thing that would be treating him well - nothing they ever wanted to do. For another, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were ashamed of his "abnormality" of being a wizard, and were afraid he would do some disgusting magical thing in public and embarrass them. They decided this would be the shopping day, and they managed to get most of their errands done. They even had time to dash through the Leaky Cauldron to Diagon Alley for a visit to Gringott's Bank, and to buy most of their new school things.
Coming back to the Leaky Cauldron that evening, they were all a bit tired from a full, fun day. They shared a light supper. A very light supper as far as Ron and Harry were concerned. Far from being able to put anything else into their stomachs, they were still a bit queasy from some of the stranger food combinations they had tried for lunch and were trying to keep it down! All three were happy to go to bed early.
Morning brought a refreshed trio of adventurers down to breakfast in the main room of the Leaky Cauldron. A delicious meal was set before them of hot bread with and butter, tea, and the house specialty - chocolate oatmeal porridge.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione dug into their bowls with gusto and asked about the delicious dish.
Tom explained: "Oh yes, chocolate porridge. It is an old remedy that a traveler brought back from South America. It seems that ancient Mayan priest-wizards of Lake Atitlan had sacred magical rituals involving drinking a lot of the local fermented corn drink. They found that a little of this porridge in the morning reduced the hangovers they suffered. Even the muggles over there took to it, though I don't know if it cures anything but hunger for them. I wouldn't exactly claim the drinking that goes on of an evening in the Leaky Cauldron is a sacred ritual, but the hangovers are the same. Nothing does a witch or a wizard more good than a steaming bowl of chocolate porridge on the morning after the night before, so to speak." "I get it," said Ron, "it's just like Madame Pomfrey giving us chocolate in the hospital wing at Hogwarts." "Do you suppose she got the idea from the old Mayan priests?" Harry had a faraway look in his eyes as he thought of ancient magic leading to something as delicious as this. "Honestly," Hermione said for about the millionth time, "when are you two going to get around to reading ŒA History Of Magic'? There are wizarding communities all over the world, and they have been sharing more than recipes, well, forever!" "Give it a rest, Hermione, we're still on vacation," Harry and Ron chorused together. For Harry, this was really the only vacation he got. Nothing that happened at number four Privet Drive with the Dursley's was ever a vacation.
They finished the delicious meal, and talked about the museum trip. "We'll go see some of the Egyptian things first," said Hermione. I want to show you some of the Hieroglyphic carvings. The muggles don't know it, but some of them are really powerful magic spells. And I know you'll want to see the mummies. They're just the right amount of interesting and creepy together for you two." "Is that what you think of us?" Ron asked as if insulted, but with a big smile on his face. For one thing, Hermione was his friend and would not really insult him. For another thing, she was right. Seeing a bunch of mysterious old mummies sounded just great. Hermione, Ron, and Harry were the best of friends, and really understood each other pretty well. They could make fun of each other and enjoy it, because each one knew the other two really loved them. If anyone else insulted one of them, the others would leap to defend their friend.
"Remember, guys, we really have to look like muggles today," Hermione warned. "The museum is full of guards looking everybody over, and anything out of the ordinary will make problems for us. Wear completely muggle outfits and not any of your regular stuff." "I won't have any trouble with that," said Harry. "All my school stuff is packed in my trunk. I only have muggle clothes." Ron said: "Mom thought of that, and I'm okay." "And no magical jokes or anything in your pockets, either, okay?" Hermione had thought of everything. "Right, then. Let's go." And Hermione led the way out the front door.
 
Chapter 4 - Sir Isaac Newton
True to Tom's promise, the British Museum stood right across the As soon as they got into the museum, another reason Hermione scheduled the Egyptian exhibit first became obvious - it was right up front as they walked in the main doors. She could not have avoided it if she tried, and once Harry and Ron got a look at what was there, they would have been off anyway. At least this way they got an eyeful and were ready to follow her to the Sir Isaac Newton exhibit.
As they approached the gallery for Sir Isaac Newton, Ron asked Hermione what she hoped to find.
"I'm not really sure what I'm looking for, Ron. It started out as a Muggle Studies project, but now I'm thinking the interesting thing is how many magical things might be here with the muggle museum pieces. Let's just see what's here. Something will jump out at us." "Gee, I hope not!" said Harry, "I'm enjoying being where things don't usually jump out at youŠ." "You know what I mean, Harry," Hermione said smiling, "I just want to leave the door open to an inspiration." "I don't know why, Hermione, but a shiver just ran down my spine when you said that," Harry replied.
The Sir Isaac Newton exhibit had two or three rooms to itself. There was a library of books written about him, and some of his own books as well. Another room reproduced his garden and the apple tree where he was supposed to have sat discovering the law of gravity when an apple fell on his head. The third room was his laboratory, with some of his own equipment. Hermione went for the library first. Ron and Harry headed straight for the lab.
"Wow," Ron practically shouted, "look at this stuff. This makes Snape's potions dungeon look sick."
"Shh, Ron." Hermione hurried over and whispered: "Remember, we're muggles today - no talking about school or magic, and don't call attention to yourself; and keep it down. This is a museum. You're supposed to be quiet."
"But look at this, I didn't know there was such amazing stuff in the muggle world," Ron enthused, only a little quieter. "This lab stuff looks like gargoyles' Christmas decorations or something." They were looking at a lab table covered with glass tubes and bubbling liquids and bottles in all sorts of colors. This was an exhibit recreation of one of Newton's alchemical experiments. Some of the glassware and other things were Newton's own originals.
Ron was first to spot it. There it was, on the floor in a corner, but in full sight, standing in a tall glass cylinder with some spare lengths of glass tubing and metal clamps and pipes. Everything in the exhibit had a label, and the label on this item was ŒStirring stick'.
"Harry, Hermione, over here." Harry unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yell into a whisper. "You have to see this."
"Ron!" Hermione cautioned, "you have to be quiet, someone will come and
throw us out."
"I know, I know." Ron said. "Look!"
Hermione and Harry looked in the direction Ron was pointing. Both of them got bug-eyed and Hermione almost yelled herself.
"It's a wand." Ron said. "It's a magic wand!"
"Better than that, Ron," said Hermione in awe. "That is Professor Isaac Newton's wand."
The three magical young people stood staring at this magical item for a long time. It was most amazing to see a wand here in muggle country anyhow. But to see the wand of a wizard famous in both worlds, was beyond amazing. And it was fun to see it labeled as a Œstirring stick'. Because they thought it was just a stick, it wasn't even in a locked case. It was right out in the room. They could almost touch it behind the red velvet rope in front of the lab table exhibit.
"If the muggles had any idea what this was, wouldn't they take a lot better care of it? I mean, isn't it dangerous to leave a wand out like that?" Harry asked.
"No," Hermione answered. "Wands won't do anything without wizards and witches to use them." "Right," said Ron, "Look at Filch - he has all sorts of opportunity to get his hands on a wand, but he couldn't get a burp out of one if it was sitting in a pot of beans for a week." "And nobody's going to steal one," Hermione added, "because we all have them, and our own wands work best for us anyhow."
The three friends looked through the rest of the exhibit. Mostly it was pretty ordinary stuff, except that it had belonged to someone famous. Once in awhile they came across something that was from the wizarding world. "Look here, Hermione, Harry, there's a sign on this stack of parchments." Ron was pointing to a small table with several rolls of parchment that looked just like the ones a Hogwarts. "The sign says Sir Isaac Newton wrote some of his Alchemy notes on parchment, and they have still not been fully understood. For example, this one refers to some sort of apparatus - a machine that has never been found, and mentions a page number of a diary that may be lost as well."
"What's written on the actual parchment?" Hermione asked. Harry stood on tiptoe and could just see over the edge of the top sheet. "It's just instructions for making a potion, I think. The last line reads ŒOnce you have lit the fuse in this chemical, apparatus (see diary page 13).' What do you make of that?"
"Doesn't mean a thing to me," Ron shook his head.
"Me either," Hermione said. "I wonder if that diary is at Hogwarts."
They looked through the bookshelves in the exhibit as well. None of the books looked like they were on magical subjects. They figured Professor Newton must have had a separate library for those. Then Hermione spotted a small book on a shelf. It was labeled "Empty notebook from Newton laboratory." It was among several folders of blank paper, blotting paper, and other writing supplies. Hermione looked at the book and started to say "Wouldn't it be something if
this wasŠ"
Harry interrupted with "It IS, I'd bet on it!"
"What?" said Ron, totally lost. "What are you two talking about? "Oh Ron," Hermione explained, "this could be the lost diary." "But it's blank through and through. Wait, I get it. This could be like the Tom Riddle diary. You could only read it with magic." Ron caught on. "Do you really think this is it?" Harry said: "I don't know if this is THE diary, but I'd bet my best broomstick that this is not blank." "How can we find out? We just have to see." Hermione was really excited. "There are a whole bunch of spells for revealing writing that we learned in Charms," Harry said, "we could just try those for a start." "Hang on Sherlock," Ron said, "there are a few problems here. For one thing, we'll get caught taking down the book. There are guards and all sorts of muggle museum security things. For another, we don't have our wands." "I think I know how we could do it," Hermione said, "but we'd be breaking museum rules and magical laws as well. Remember, we are still underage and not allowed to do magic away from school." "Oh, Hermione," Ron said, "don't worry about a little rule bending. Besides, I have good news about that. My dad was telling me that the ministry is so busy with the meetings and security arrangements against you-know-who now, that they are not bothering with small stuff like a little underage magic for now." "I think Ron's right about that," Harry said. "I had some fun with a few hexed treats this summer, getting my fat cousin Dudley in trouble, and I never got caught for it."
"Well, I still know it's wrong," Hermione said wavering, "but yes, I'm dying to see what is in the diary, too." "I can tell, Hermione," Ron said smiling. "You're ready for some rule-breaking. How do we get to read the diary." "Ok, here's the plan." Hermione dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. There was no real reason for it, since no people were around that weren't there a minute ago, but somehow it seemed the way to do it. "We will have to stay in the museum after closing hours. Once everyone has left, we will be able to get to the diary. They only think it is a blank notebook, it isn't guarded like a treasure." "That's fine," said Ron, "but that leaves us still without our wands. How are we going to read the diary?" "We do have a wand." Harry said. "We have Professor Newton's own wand right here!" "Got it, Harry," said Hermione, "and it isn't well guarded either, since they think it is just a Œstirring stick'."
"I wish you had your invisibility cloak, Harry, it's almost closing time, Ron said. "Where do we hide?"
"Let's look around here," Harry said, starting off around the exhibit room.
They looked for curtains to hide behind, but there were no windows in the gallery. Closets and toilets also seemed like they might get pretty securely locked after hours. Then Harry pointed to something in the re-creation of Professor Newton's laboratory. "See that in the storeroom?" Harry was pointing to some boxes and `crates. "That big one in the back. It looks like a Hogwarts trunk." "We can't hide in there," Hermione objected, "we wouldn't fit." "Don't be so sure, Hermione, look very carefully at the lock." Harry answered. "Unless I miss my guess, there may be a lot of room in that trunk!" "I see it, Harry," Ron said excitedly. "There are two keyholes. It could be like Mad-Eye Moody's trunk."

"We can get to the trunk, but what if it's locked? We still don't have the wand or anything." Hermione looked doubtful. "I beg your pardon, Miss Granger," said Ron mock formally, "but the Weasley Muggle and Magical Lockpicking Service is on the job here. Fred and George spent some time this summer teaching me their lockpicking tricks, and I think I can manage that one." Hermione got a worried look on her face. "We could get in trouble for this with the British Museum, the Ministry of Magic, the London Police, our parents, and our school. Is there anyone I've left out?" "Nope," said Ron with a grin, "that pretty much covers it, unless You-Know-Who is hiding in the trunk ready to come after us." "Don't even joke about it." Hermione said with a shiver. "Oh well, in for a knut, in for a galleon. Go for it, Ron. We'll watch for the guard."

By now there was no one else in the room, and Ron had no trouble slipping under the velvet rope to get to the trunk. Ron took something made of a small bent piece of metal and wire out of his pocket and twisted it in the first keyhole. It popped open immediately, and Ron pulled the top open. "It was already open. Nothing much here." Ron reported. "There is some broken lab glass and a couple of small empty boxes. I'll try the second keyhole."
"Hurry Ron," said Harry, "There's sure to be a guard or someone along soon."
Ron closed the top of the trunk, and set to work with his lockpicking tool. He twisted and turned, and grunted and did not seem to be getting anywhere. "This one's a problem," Ron said, "It feels like it hasn't been opened for two centuries." "That's probably literally true, Ron," said Hermione. "I think I read on the gallery sign that this stuff has been stored in the museum for just about that long!" "I think I heard a door slam in the next gallery. Now would be a very good time to get that open, Ron." Harry was getting a little nervous. "I'm doing the best I can," Ron said. "Hold on, here it comes." With a click the lock opened, and Ron pulled the top open again. This time he could see the top of a steep narrow stairway, and some dim flickering light at the bottom, about ten feet down. "Touchdown! This is it. We can hide in here. There seems to be a whole room down there." "None too soon, Ron, Harry said. "I hear footsteps. Quick climb in." Ron first, then Hermione, and Harry bringing up the rear, they climbed into the trunk and closed the lid just as the guards approached to close the gallery for the night. There was the sound of lights being switched off and heavy doors being slid shut and then footsteps fading away as the guards moved on.
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Chapter 5 - Whisk
"I think they're gone, but just to be sure, let's stay in here for a bit. We can explore the room below. They won't hear us go down the stairs," Hermione said.
The three of them felt their way down the dark narrow stairway to the bit of light at the bottom. "What do you see?" Hermione asked. She was last down the stairs. Ron, hit the bottom first: "It's amazing! There's a whole apartment here. This must have been Professor Newton's secret digs. There's a bed and table and everything." Harry was second down the stairs" "And there's a candle! Somebody or something lit that candle. Be careful." They were all down now, and exploring the room. Hermione headed for a bookshelf, and soon reported: "These are all old magic books. Spellbooks, Potions manuals, and Arithmancy tables. I think you were right, Ron. This must be where Professor Newton did his magical studies when he was away from Hogwarts. I bet nobody has disturbed this stuff for hundreds of years." "Come here, I found something." Harry said, from the other side of the room. When Hermione and Ron got there, they all saw it. On a hidden wall at the end of the bookcase, there was a door. "I'm going to open it. Get ready forŠwell, I don't know, maybe just be ready for anything."
"Maybe we'll just find the world's oldest house elf." Ron laughed,
although it sounded a little strained.
A squeaky voice said "At y'r service kind Sirs and Madam." The door opened and an ancient-looking small creature with pointed ears and large round green eyes came slowly out; definitely a house elf! Ron, Harry, and Hermione looked at him with eyes just about as big as his own. They all just stood there looking at each other. Hermione was the first to recover the power of speech: "Who are you?" "I is Whisk, house elf to Mr. Sir Isaac Newton Sir, the greatest wizard scientist of his age. I is being with his family since many years while he was alive, and my father before me, and his father, too." Whisk drew himself up to his full three-foot height. He was an old elf, but looked quite elegant, dressed in a piece of an embroidered velvet curtain. "But how can this be?" Hermione said, "Sir Isaac Newton is gone now, and this trunk has been in a museum for two hundred years." "Doesn't Whisk know it, Madam. Whisk has been here for a long time. Whisk doesn't even know where his trunk has got to. Whisk is very happy to see you." "Forgive me for asking, Whisk," said Harry, "but how come you are still alive? House elves need food and water." "House elves has magic for that, Sir. Whisk can get what he needs to survive, and keep this place clean and lighted. That is Whisk's job." "You mean you have been trapped in here for two hundred years at least? And you were forced to stay in here even when Professor Newton was here?" Hermione was horrified." "Whisk is proud of his job. He does his work well." "But what about freedom? Did you really want to be here for all this time? You have the right to more than this." Hermione was about to give her lecture on Elf Rights. "Forgive Whisk, Madam, if he is upsetting you. If you mean: Why didn't Whisk get another job when his master died; it isn't his fault. He was trapped in the trunk in the muggle world. Whisk doesn't have a wand, and can't open the trunk or disapparate out." Harry interrupted. (It was partly because he really wanted to know, and partly to head off Hermione's Elf Rights Rant.) "Whisk, how is it that you are alive after all these years, anyhow? Even wizards and house elves are mortal and die eventually." Hermione did get distracted and only said: "It must have been so boring all these years. How did you stand it?"
Whisk looked a bit embarrassed. "It isn't so long, really. Whisk is using some of his master's things without permission. Whisk is wanting to find a way out, so he uses his master's invention to go to when the trunk is being opened. But the trunk never is opened by a wizard. The muggles only see the storage box part. Whisk is so happy now that you are opening the trunk." Whisk was teary-eyed. "Yes, but how did you do it? What invention" Ron asked impatiently. "Don't push, Ron. Give him a chance. He's had a tough time of it," Hermione said, going over and patting Whisk on the shoulder. "Oh thank you, kind madam, but Whisk is okay. It really isn't such a long time. In fact, Whisk only got here today. He used his master's magic, and doesn't want to be in trouble." "Whisk, this is such a special situation, I'm sure you won't get in trouble." Hermione tried to comfort him. "How did you do it?" "Whisk uses this." The house elf pulled a small cord on the neck of his velvet clothes, and the collar opened like a pair of window drapes to show a small golden charm on a necklace. Ron and Harry leaned forward to see what it was.
Hermione already knew. "The Time-Turner!" She said, surprised. "Professor Isaac Newton invented the Time-Turner? I never knew that." "Oh, yes madam," said Whisk, "The master had it to be able to do his work at Hogwarts and at Cambridge University, too. He is being very busy. Whisk is not having a Time-Turner then, and is even more busy; not that Whisk is complaining. The master is being a great and kind wizard."
"I didn't know the time-turner could work like this," Hermione said. "I used one to have more time, to go back a few hours." "The master is using it that way, too, madam. He is always needing more time for his inventing and thinking. But once the master is gone, Whisk is having too much time, he is having only time. Whisk is finding a way to use it backwards-forwards, and jump a few years each, hoping to find a time when the trunk is being open. Today is Whisk's lucky day, madam." He got misty-eyed again and Hermione came over to comfort him.
He suddenly looked up at them in horror, and said: "But where are Whisk's manners! Can Whisk offer you some tea? Have a seat, Sirs, and Madam." "Relax, Whisk," said Harry. "Yes," agreed Ron and Hermione, "You've had enough of service for now. Just keeping this place together so we could get here today is wonderful." "We're forgetting what we wanted to do." Hermione said. "Whisk, we wanted to get Professor Newton's wand and diary from the lab display in the museum outside the trunk. We could look at it in here if that is okay with you." "That is being a wonderful idea. Whisk would love to see them again, and he is being alone a long time. Whisk is very happy you are here. Whisk would feel really good serving you some tea." "Harry, go get the wand and the book." Hermione said. "It is probably better for only one person to go, and it is only just outside the trunk anyhow. Be careful." "Okay, be right back," Harry said and started off up the stairs.
"Do you mean what you said about tea, Whisk?" asked Ron. "To tell the truth I'm a little hungry. If you really have food here that isn't 200 years old, I'll cooperate!" "Oh yes, thank you Sir, I has fresh cookies I baked myself this morning, and I am making tea in a moment. Thank you." Whisk disappeared behind the door in the corner and returned as promised in moments with an elegant tea service for his guests. "Whisk, I have totally forgotten my manners, as well," Hermione said. "We haven't even told you our names. This is Ron Weasley, I am Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter is coming down the stairs." Harry entered the room. Whisk said: "Thank you, Madam Hermione Granger, Whisk is pleased to meet you Masters Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. Have some tea." Whisk was positively beaming, happy doing his job, and happier still having some company after a long time. Harry, Ron and Hermione were actually feeling quite thirsty and hungry, and ate what were very good chocolate and raisin cookies and tea, talking with Whisk about Professor Newton and Whisk's own life.
Harry felt relaxed and comfortable with Whisk in a way he didn't feel with anyone else except Ron and Hermione, and maybe Professor Dumbledore. He couldn't put a finger on it for awhile, but then it occurred to him: Whisk was the only magical person Harry had ever met who didn't know about Œthe Famous Harry Potter' and really treated Harry the same as anyone else. It was a great relief.
Finally, stuffed with tea, they turned their attention to the wand and diary Harry had retrieved. "Whisk, is this really Professor Newton's diary?" Harry asked. "That was our guess, but we don't know." "Oh yes, Master Harry. That is being a special book that Professor Newton is using for his notes and stories. He is writing in it almost every day when he is finished with his experiments." "That's wonderful." Hermione said. "Harry, take the wand and open the book!" "No, Hermione," said Harry and Ron together, "this whole trip is your idea. The honor is yours."
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Chapter 6 - Time
Hermione eagerly picked up the wand. "Sir Isaac Newton's wand - I can hardly believe it!" She held the wand for a few seconds, just feeling the weight of it, then turned to the book. Just a touch of the wand and, as if the book remembered an old routine, it opened by itself to a blank page near the end. Words began to appear on the other pages. She picked the book up and flipped through it, reading a bit here and there. "Turn to page 13, Hermione." Ron said. "If this is the missing diary, there should be something about that chemical apparatus thingie the sign mentioned."
"Say something! What's in the book?" asked Harry, anxious to hear words from the great old wizard.
"Okay, let's see, page thirteen: ŒI think this formula might work, but the mixture is so unstable that as soon as I put fire to the fuse, I must disapparate to a distance for safety's sake. I shall put a note on the experiment." "That's it," said Ron. "There's no missing machine. The muggles got it all wrong. The parchment is just saying to light the fuse and get the heck out of there - "Apparatus" before it blows up in your face!"
"This is fun," said Hermione. "It isn't all scientific diary of experiments or anything. It's mostly his own private stories, and stuff that happened at school. Listen to this one: "While in the garden today, I was sitting under an apple tree and one of the fruits fell directly on my head. It was a moment of discovery, for at that instant the great Laws of Gravity were revealed to me. I was so excited I could not keep still, and in celebrating I twisted the Time-Turner I was carrying and that apple hit me on the head again."
Ron, Harry, and Hermione took turns reading from the diary, and sharing laughs and new ideas about Professor Newton and his times. Through it all Whisk stayed with them and enjoyed their lively presence. Sometimes smiling at familiar old stories, and sometimes crying as he missed his master. He also provided more food and drink from time to time, and was the perfect host. It was a long time before Hermione suddenly asked: "Does anybody know what time it is?" Harry had gotten a tattoo of a wristwatch on a trip to Nocturne Alley. It only appeared in the wizard world, and of course, it worked. "My watch-tattoo says three o'clock. Can that be right?" Harry said, with some doubt. "Have we been here eight hours?" "Go have a look, Harry," said Hermione. "There was a clock on the gallery wall." Harry dashed up the stairs, and was back in about a minute. "It's worse than we thought. It's three o'clock alright, but it is daylight and the museum is full of people."
"Oh no," Hermione said. "That means it's three in the afternoon. We've been here for a whole day." "Is that possible?" Ron asked. "I mean this is really interesting and all, but we can't have missed that much time passing." Whisk, the house elf, said: "Excuse me Sirs and Madam, Whisk thinks he can explain." They all waited a few seconds. Then Harry said: "Please go ahead, Whisk. What do you think has happened." "Whisk thinks his using the time turner backwards-forwards is not always perfect and leaves a few hours slipping around at the end sometimes. Whisk should have told you before." The house elf looked apologetic. "It's okay, Whisk." Hermione hastened to say, and squeezed his shoulder. "None of us knew what to expect." Oh, thank you Mistress Hermione Granger. You are kind to Whisk." The house elf had really taken to Hermione, and stood next to her at the little table.
"Can it be off a longer time? Could we have missed two or three days? Ron wanted to know. "We don't want to miss getting to school." "Do not worry, Master Ron Weasley," said Whisk. "It is never more than half a day, and I is knowing it from two hundred years practise this week." "Who said a house elf doesn't have a sense of humor," said Harry with a grin. "No one is saying that, Whisk hopes," said the house elf with as proud an expression on his face as Harry had ever seen.
Ron was thinking aloud: "Okay, what do we do now? We could try to sneak out of the trunk now, or we could wait until closing time in a couple of hours." Harry said, "It's really crowded up there. I'm afraid we would be spotted in a second. There are a lot of visitors and some museum staff putting up another display, as well." "It will be too dangerous to try now," Hermione agreed, "and we have another problem. We have to get the wand and the diary back to their places in the exhibit. Someone will know they've gone missing, eventually." "Aw, Hermione," said Ron disappointedly, "I was hoping we could take them back to school as souvenirs, or give them to Professor Dumbledore." "It's true," Harry said, "his office is full of stuff like that." "No way," Hermione said, "and I'm not just following rules. We can't let the muggles know what we've found, and museums keep inventories of even the smallest things in each exhibit. They will catch it and someone will get in trouble for stealing or not doing their guarding job. Professor Dumbledore will not be pleased if we show up with those things."
Turning to the house elf, Hermione said. "Now you are another story altogether, Whisk. Would you be willing to come with us and go to Hogwarts?" Whisk looked at Hermione and the others and started to cry. Hermione said quickly: "Whisk, I didn't mean to upset you, but we can't leave youŠ"
"Oh no, Mistress Hermione Granger, Whisk is not upset. Whisk is being his happiest for many, many years, since his master is here. Whisk loves to go with you. Please, yes yes."
"Okay, Whisk!" Ron said and clapped the elf on the back hard enough to send his big green eyes rolling.
"Welcome aboard, Whisk," Harry said smiling and shook his hand.
"Are we going to have a problem walking around London with a house elf?" Ron wanted to know.
"Not to worry, Master Ron Weasley. Whisk is very experienced in doing this. He is often needing to go with Professor Newton around Cambridge. When muggles is coming near Whisk transforms into something. Usually he is being a small table with an embroidered velvet tablecloth." Everybody, including the house elf, had a good laugh.
There was just time for Whisk to gather up a few things in a small bag, and to make a last tea for them while waiting for the museum to close.
"How do you feel leaving here after all this time, Whisk?" asked Hermione. "It must be hard."
"Whisk has been here too long, Mistress Hermione Granger. Whisk has happy memories of his master here, but even more at Hogwarts. He will be very happy to see the place. And the trunk is always now here, so Whisk can come back to visit."
"You are an amazing elf, Whisk. I'm really glad we met you," said Hermione.
"Here, here," said Harry raising his teacup. "A toast to Whisk, the oldest and wisest house elf of all."
"At y'r service, kind Sirs and Madam," said Whisk with a very merry green-eyed grin.
When the time came, and they heard the heavy museum doors close again, they were ready and climbed out of the trunk as quietly as they could. Harry put the wand and diary, now blanked again, back in place. They looked around the exhibit a last time and saw the new display that had just been put up. It was a traveling display from Vienna on the great composer, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. One side of the gallery had been transformed into an 18th Century music salon, with Mozart's conducting baton resting on an ornate fireplace mantle, his beautfully painted harpsichord, some manuscripts, and a quartet of musician figures holding period instruments. "Don't get too distracted, there," Harry said. "We have a problem. It just occurred to me that the gallery door is locked, and I don't know how we are going to get out of here." "You're right, Harry," Ron said with a worried look on his face. "That door is huge. I don't think I can pick that lock. And besides, if we got out of this gallery, there are probably cameras and alarms and security stuff that will catch us. We don't want to have to explain to a guard what we are doing there, or why we are bringing a house elf with us, even if he is a table at the time."
"Relax, everybody," Hermione said. "The museum has generously provided just what we need. Go over to the fireplace in the Mozart display. We can use it to get out. There's actually a low gas fire in it. I have some Floo Powder in my bag that Tom gave me to get back into The Leaky Cauldron after hours." "Great, Hermione. You're the best. I'll never make fun of your heavy studying again." Ron saluted Hermione. "Thanks, Ron, do you mean that?" Hermione said. "Not really," said Ron, "but your brains certainly come in handy sometimes." "Thanks a lot," said Hermione with a snort. "Now everybody take a pinch, toss it in the fire, and say ŒThe Leaky Cauldron' clearly."
Ron went first, then Hermione.
Harry said to Whisk: "I really don't like floo powder travelling. I always get dizzy and dirty, and usually fall on my face at the other end."
"Whisk knows what you mean, but you're underage, and there aren't other
choices for long trips."
"There are now!" Harry said. "You've been out of circulation for nearly 300 years. Wait till you see the Hogwarts Express. It's the train that we ride to school."
"Beggin' your pardon, Master Harry Potter, but what is a train?" asked Whisk. "It's a huge smoking and steaming metal thing on tracks pulling cars with seats." Harry replied. "Sounds like a new breed of domesticated dragon. Whisk will enjoy that," said the house elf. "I like your style, Whisk." Harry smiled. "Let's go, it's our turn."
The unusual foursome popped out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron not long after closing time. Old Tom was still around cleaning up, and Harry asked if it would be possible to find a bit of supper for four hungry wanderers.
Tom replied: "No problem, especially for the Harry Potter party." "Thanks," said Harry. Harry was reminded how happy he had been these past two days. Nobody made him feel like a celebrity or anything. He really loved his friends, and Whisk, the house elf was a real treasure in his life - a magical being who didn't fawn all over the Œfamous Harry Potter". Well, at least no more than house elves usually fawned over others. Trays of cold meats, bread cheese and fruit appeared at a heavy wooden table as they sat down, and even a platter of nicely herbed steamed veggies that Hermione had requested when she booked the rooms. Large jugs of iced pumpkin juice and butterbeer completed the feast. Whisk got a half-pint of house ale, claiming he was old enough to drink. Everybody laughed ate and drank their way through a very delicious meal.
They talked about school and their plans. Everyone agreed that Whisk would likely have a lifetime job lecturing about life with his master Sir Isaac Newton. He would be Hogwarts first house elf teacher. Hermione said: "Whisk, you could join the History Department and teach a course on seventeenth-century magic, and another course all on Professor Newton." "No homework for us, okay?" demanded Ron. Whisk replied: "Whisk is afraid he winds up in the trophy room as an exhibit instead."
Hermione worried he was serious, but he gave her a wink. When a house elf winks, with those huge green eyes, it is an event! He had to entirely scrunch up one side of his face and stretch out the other at the same time. Everybody got a great giggle out of it, especially Whisk - he said it tickled.
top

Chapter 7 - Mozart
Whisk asked "Do they always have a whole gallery devoted to wizardry and magic?" "No, sadly," Hermione answered, "we have not progressed that far. For the most part muggles are still unaware of the magical world, and sometimes there is persecution when witches and wizards are discovered. The ministry of magic tries to undo any problems when there are wizard-revealing accidents." "Has not changed much then," the house said, "it was like that with the master. He usually kept all his magical books and items in the trunk with Whisk."
"Wait a minute, Whisk," said Harry. What did you mean by Œa whole gallery?' When we left your gallery there was another exhibit already, on the musician Mozart. "Yes, that's the one. Whisk does not know this Mozart but he must have been a wizard," said Whisk. "How do you know, Whisk?" asked Harry. "Well, for one thing there is a magic wand in the middle of the display..." Whisk began. "That's right!" said Ron, Harry, and Hermione at once. They had all seen it, but not recognized it for what it really was. Hermione said "The sign said ŒConducting Baton' but it really did look like a wand." She had a thoughtful expression on her face. "Šand for another thing," Whisk continued. "He is being a famous musician. So he must be a wizard." "Why do you say that, Whisk?" asked Hermione. "Why does that make him a wizard? "There is only magical music, Mistress Hermione Granger." Said Sir Isaac Newton's house elf. "There is no other kind." "All music is magical?" Harry looked doubtful. "But I heard some music with the Dursleys, some muggle relatives of mine. In fact my Uncle Vernon sings in the shower, and he hasn't a magical bone in his body. I've heard music other places in the muggle world, too." "Muggles uses our music, but all the great music and musicians is wizards." Whisk insisted. "Many muggle things get used in both worlds, but music is one of the only magical things muggles has taken to. Of course, they is not knowing it is wizard magic."
"Do you have any idea how the witch and wizard musicians learn music, Whisk?" Hermione still had that faraway expression. "Whisk thinks there is a special school, like Hogwarts, but for music. If an eleven-year-old witch or wizard shows signs of special musical talent, their letter comes from the music school. Whisk is sorry, but he does not know the name."
"Thanks, Whisk," Hermione said. "That is plenty to go on." I have an idea, but I have to go check in a book."
"What's up, Hermione." Ron said. "You have that Œlibrary' look again." "You are exactly right about that," Hermione agreed with a smile, "but I think I have the book I need in my bag. I'll be right back." Hermione swept out of the room and up the stairs. "Is Mistress Hermione Granger always like this?" Whisk asked Ron and Harry. "Whisk, you're okay." "I like you more all the time." Ron and Harry and the house elf had a good laugh, only partially at Hermione's expense.
Harry asked: "Should we look for some other clothes for you, Whisk? You can't still feel bound to Sir Isaac Newton after hundreds of years." "Whisk knows he is free now, but really does enjoy service. If he is finding out that Professor Newton has living family, he might be wanting to offer his services to them if they needs an elf." "Better not say that around Hermione," said Ron. She'll go ballistic. She thinks all house elves are unhappy slaves who need freeing." "Mistress Hermione Granger is good and is sometimes right, but Whisk is always and always happy with his master and is very well treated. Whisk loves his job. Whisk feels free and freely chooses his life."
"About those clothes," Harry asked. "Are you happy with your velvet curtain?" "I is happy, Master Harry Potter. Are you thinking Whisk needs different clothes? Does Whisk look strange in this time with his clothes?" "To tell the truth," Harry said, "house elves' clothes always look pretty strange to me. You won't be stranger than any other house elves." "Then Whisk will keep his clothes for now," Whisk said decisively.
Hermione rushed in at that moment carrying a large and heavy-looking book. She dumped it on the table with a bang and said: "I found it. I found it. It's still there! Ron threw Whisk an eye-rolling look that almost caused the extremely correct house elf to snort most impolitely! Whisk managed to turn it into a choking sound.
"What's going on here?" Hermione asked.
"Nothing," said Harry, Ron, and Whisk all together.
"Why do I feel it's now three to one." Hermione said grinning. "You guys are corrupting a perfectly fine elf. Anyhow, I found the wizarding music school. It is called ŒSymphonium Conservatory of Music' and it is still going strong." "Is that the whole name?" Ron wanted to know. "All the other schools mention magic in their names. Why isn't this one "..of Wizarding Music" or something like that?" "I'm not sure," Hermione began, "butŠ"
Whisk interrupted a bit impatiently: "Excuse me, masters, the reason Symphonium Conservatory of Music is not having Œwitchcraft and wizardry' in its name is that when you say music, you say magic already. It is understood. Whisk is worried he could not possibly be a teacher, because he is not believed. He tells you that all music is magical, and you do not believe him. Whisk is not being a very good teacher." Hermione said: "Oh Whisk, don't feel like that. It is really hard for us to get the idea that music is a magical thing always, and we sometimes forget. You are a good teacher. Don't be hard on yourself." "Not to worry, Mistress Hermione Granger, Whisk is being a very polite house elf. He is not really thinking he is a bad teacher. He is really thinking you students can be as thick as you are tall, but he is not saying this." Whisk said this with a perfectly straight face and it was a few seconds before all of them broke up laughing. Ron clapped Whisk on the back hard enough to send his big green eyes into a spin.

Chapter 8 - Ollivanders
"We should get to bed," Hermione said. "It's getting late and we lost a day there, we need to get some sleep and finish up our school preparations in Diagon Alley tomorrow. Whisk, I got you a room next to our rooms. You could stay here tomorrow, or come with us to Diagon Alley." "That is wonderful, Mistress Hermione Granger," the house elf said. "You is treating Whisk very well, he is liking to come with you tomorrow, too. Whisk is missing company these last few hundred years." "Great. One thing Whisk Hermione pausedŠ" "Yes, Mistress Hermione Granger?" "Yes, Whisk," Hermione continued, "about all that Mistress and Master stuff - could you please just call us by our first names. We want to be friends with you, not your employers." "Whisk understands, but it goes against his training and is difficult. Whisk will try, MistrŠ ah, Hermione Granger."
"It's a start," said Hermione, "Good night, all."
Morning found them up early. A quick breakfast of some more chocolate oatmeal porridge, and they were off to Diagon Alley.
"Whisk is happy to see so much is the very same as it was when he was here last with Master Isaac Newton."
Ron said: "The muggle world has changed more. They have electric power and machines and automobiles and computers and things to do what we do with magic."
"Things is only stuff; not real changes," Whisk said. "Anyway, house elves does not go much in the muggle world. Whisk can probably get around in the magical world okay still."
After a few final purchases, Hermione directed them to Ollivanders, the shop of the wand-maker. She wanted to ask Mr. Ollivander what he might be able to tell her of the wands they had seen in the museum. The gilt Ollivanders sign and the window display of one single wand on a pedestal was the only indication of the store within. A knock on the old doors and they let themselves in to the dusty shop. Mr. Ollivander was bustling about, putting what looked like his whole stock of hundreds of wands back in their boxes and on their shelves. "Excuse the confusion," Mr. Ollivander said without even looking up. "Hogwart's first years, you know." "Now what can I do for you?" "Hello, Mr. Ollivander." Hermione said. "I'm looking for information on some wands we've seen in the British museum.
"Oh hello, Miss." Mr. Ollivander finally peered over his glasses at Hermione. "Let's see now, you're boxwood, 11 inches, fine grained and very whippy. What did you say your name was? I never forget a wand, but names are sometimes beyond me." "I'm Hermione Granger. Could you tell us about the wands?" "All in good time, Miss Granger. Who are your friends? Ah, it's Mr. Potter, a pleasure to see you again. Is your phoenix feather wand still doing it's job? Professor Dumbledore told me of the grand encounter it had with its brother wand." "Uh, yeah," Harry said. Mr. Ollivander the wand maker was probably the only one in the world who thought it was great that Harry had to duel Voldemort, get injured and nearly killed. "How did the wands perform?" Mr. Ollivander wanted to know. "Was there any imbalance or hesitation as they began shaking, or was the energy surging smoothly through the entire range?" "Everything worked fine," Harry said, not really wanting to discuss it. "I'm so glad," Mr. Ollivander said. "As you can imagine, such a confrontation is rare, and the opportunity to observe related wands in all out battle almost never happens. I am pleased that you survived and are returned to good health." Harry had the distinct feeling that what mattered to Mr. Ollivander was that Harry had lived long enough to tell him about the wand performance. It wasn't a comforting feeling. Ollivander always gave him the creeps.
"And you, sir, how is it I have no memory of you?" Mr. Ollivander was addressing Ron.
The answer, of course, was that the Weasley's couldn't afford an Ollivander wand, or, in fact, a new wand at all. Ron had made do with hand-me-downs from the first. Ron hated being poor, and did not want to talk about it. Hermione saved the day: "Ron uses an old family wand, at their request. Can you tell us anything about the museum wands? "So you found the Mozart wand did you?" asked Mr. Ollivander. "Fine one, made by my great great uncle at our Vienna shop. Twenty-two centimeters, beech, containing a siren hair, very good for music."
"My wand has a siren hair as well," Hermione said. "That's a coincidence!" "There aren't many coincidences in the wizarding world," said Mr. Ollivander, "but I wouldn't put any special meaning on this one just yet. The truth is that siren hair is the most common magical item for wand use. You can imagine; just one clip of a lock of siren hair gives you enough material for hundreds of wands. Ollivanders of course, uses only the best premium quality hair in its wands."
"I'm sure," said Harry, "Do you know anything about another wand in the museum?"
"I suspect there may be many stored away and unnoticed. That museum has piles of things they have never even catalogued, and there have been wizards and witches using our wands since 382BC." I don't know of any other wands on display, though."
"Well, we do," said Ron. "Sir Isaac Newton's wand is in an exhibit of his alchemy laboratory. It is just sitting in a pot with other lengths of wood labeled ŒStirring Stick.'"
Mr. Ollivander got an ugly expression on his face and stared at Ron as if he was a worm-eaten wand. Ron wished he hadn't said anything. "Muggles! They'll never understand us." Said the wand maker after an uncomfortably long silence. "A stirring stick, imagine. Let me check." Mr Ollivander rolled a ladder down the line of shelves filled with wands and climbed up to a very high shelf at the end of the row. He picked out a large, ancient leather-bound ledger book from a stack, and struggled down, barely keeping his grip on the book and the ladder at the same time. When he got to the bottom step, he slapped the ledger down on the counter, in a cloud of very old dust. Waving his way through the dust, he opened the book to a page near the middle and ran his finger down a list. "Newington, Newman, Newmarket, Newt, ah, here he is: Isaac Newton, got his wand in this very shop in 1653 from my great grandmother. Thirteen inches, ebony with pixie dust. Very showy." They used to use pixie dust a great deal
- it's actually pixie dandruff - but pixie anything can be unreliable and we stopped using it soon afterward. My great grandfather was actually killed by an experimental wand around that time. He designed a wand with two magical items for better coverage. A trial model with a dragon claw and pixie dust backfired at the factory and bits of great grand-dad were found in six counties. It was the size imbalance of pixie versus dragon, you see, andŠ"
"Thank you loads, Mr. Ollivander," Hermione interrupted, "But we really must be getting to the train station. The Hogwarts Express leaves in only a few minutes." "Ah yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "I do tend to run on about wands. Have a good year, and Mr. Weasley:" He fixed Ron with a sharp stare as they went out the door. "Do let me know when you are ready for a quality wand." Ron said nothing, but felt the usual ache of unfairness. Almost everything he owned was second hand, handed down, or bargain-bin cheap quality. He had pretty well learned to live with it, but he didn't need to be reminded by other people.
"We have to get a move on," Hermione said as they rushed in the Leaky Cauldron's back entrance, "The train leaves in about an hour, and we have a long crosstown trip." "No you don't!" said Tom, who was smiling at them from the doorway. "I have all your things at the front door, and King's Cross Station is just across the street. Leaky Cauldron special guest services. You even have time for a last butterbeer before you leave." "Thanks loads, Tom," said Hermione, returning the smile. "We'll be sure to recommend your inn." The three students and an elf sat down to a quick refresher before their trip. Hermione said to Whisk: "I wasn't sure what to say about you in Diagon Alley, but nobody mentioned you. Mr. Ollivander didn't seem to notice you at all." "Whisk is invisible in Diagon Alley," the house elf said. "Whoa," Ron said, "more elf magic?" "Not magic, just the way of the servant everywhere. We doesn't count as people. We is quietly in the background in service." "That's unfair and insulting," said Hermione angrily, "and besides, you're not in service now." "Whisk can not help it if people is seeing house elves only as servants. Master Newton is always treating Whisk well. He is talking with Whisk and sharing ideas. There is good masters and bad masters."
"I know," said Hermione, still upset, "but you should be your own masters."
"I hate to break in on your favorite rant, Hermione," said Ron, but we should get going." Harry said: "Whisk, I'm afraid you will have to display your transforming talents for just a bit. We need to go into muggle country just crossing the road and through the train station. A lot of muggles could spot you." "No problem, Harry Potter. Whisk is being another travelling bag." "Great, Whisk," Harry said. "Do you think you can manage a couple of wheels and a handle? I already have a lot of stuff to carry." They all picked up their bags and headed out the door. The station was across the street, just as the British Museum had been a couple of days ago. Looking back after they had crossed the street, there was no sign of the Leaky Cauldron. The three students and one artfully-transformed elf-bag made their way through the crowded station and onto platform nine-and-three-quarters.
"Hi all," Ron called to his family just about as soon as they got through the hidden gate. The Weasleys were always easy to spot with their red hair, and there was a small knot of them standing near the gate fussing with their baggage. "Oh there you are," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "Just in time. Your trunks are already on the train, and we're just getting our things together. Harry, that's a beautiful bag you have there."
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot! Whisk, we're in magical territory again, you can be yourself."
At that, the elegant embroidered velvet bag Harry had been rolling along neatly transformed back into Whisk the house elf, dressed in his velvet curtain. George, Fred, Ginny Weasley, and Mrs. Weasley gave him a very surprised look and began to ask questions. "Long story, Mom, everybody," said Ron cutting them off for the moment. "I'll send you an owl when we get to school." "I'll be waiting for that one! Tickets out and on the train with you. Owl me when you get there so I know you made it alright."
Hugs all around, and everyone boarded the train. Harry bought Whisk a half price ticket, not because of his size, but because the railway had a special rate for house elves traveling with their masters. Hermione disapproved of the whole affair, but didn't push it.
Fred and George went to sit with their classmates, who were filling the first coach. Ginny still felt shy around Harry, and ran off to sit with a girl who shared her dormitory. Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Whisk looked for a compartment by themselves.
The train was really full, and the only four empty seats together were in a compartment which already had one occupant, a slightly scared-looking 11-year old boy reading a copy of the first-year spellbook.
Ron slid open the compartment door and asked: "Hello, who are you?"
"I'm Jim Katz, I'm going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." The boy spoke as if he didn't quite believe it yet.
"We're going there, too." Ron said, "d'you mind if we sit here."
"Go right ahead," the boy said. "Are you teachers?"
Ron couldn't help having a bit of fun with him. "Yeah, that's right. We're going to be talking about secret teacher stuff, so be quiet and don't listen to us or I'll have to turn you into a gargoyle and hang you off the school roof." Ron didn't have to exert himself. The poor kid was so petrified he sat there as if he'd been turned to stone already. As soon as he could, he ran out and found a compartment with some other first-years. Ron didn't feel bad about this. He probably didn't have six brothers to scare him silly about what might happen at Hogwarts. Somebody had to do it!
They settled into their seats for the journey, and the train pulled out of the station into the sunny day. "Whisk is liking this Œtrain'," The house elf said, "this is very comfortable, and Whisk can see what the world is looking like out the window."
"What are we going to do with you, once we get to school, Whisk?" Hermione mused. Harry said: "I think all we really need to do is take him up to see Professor Dumbledore. Ron agreed: "Yes, He'll have just the idea." "What do you think, Whisk?" Hermione asked. "Whisk is happy to go to Hogwarts, and knows there are many house elves there. Between everyone there is bound to be good choices." "I'm glad you're thinking choices," said Hermione. "That sounds like a free elf to me!"
"Okay Ron, Harry, I want to tell you what I've been thinking about since we were in the museum." "I noticed you have been kind of thoughtful," Ron said "what's up, Hermione?"
Finding Mozart's wand first got me interested. When Whisk told us all music was magical I was hooked. Do you remember the music at the end of year feasts at Hogwarts?" "I remember us singing school songs all at once. It doesn't sound that good." Ron answered. "Professor Dumbledore seems to love it. What is it he says?" Harry tried to remember the exact words. "I remember," said Hermione: "Ah, music - magic beyond all we do here." "When I heard that I wondered what he meant. Was he just appreciating the singing, or was there more to it? Was he referring to magic and music elsewhere?
The one thing for sure is what you said, Harry - Professor Dumbledore loves music. I think it would be a great idea to have a concert at Hogwarts, as a thank you to Professor Dumbledore for everything he does."
"Hermione, that is the best idea you have ever had!" Harry was really enthusiastic. "I'm with you." Ron signed up: "Count on me for whatever I can do for the concert. Dumbledore has really been great with everybody, and we don't have that many ways of giving something back to him." Whisk asked: "What can an old elf do for you, Hermione Granger?" Hermione replied: "Whisk, you started this whole thing when you told us about Mozart's wand and magical music. You have already done the biggest share. Now everybody, let's keep this a secret from Professor Dumbledore, and surprise him."

Chapter 9 - Owl Post

As if on cue, just then there was a bumping on the window. A large brown owl was flying at full speed to keep up with the train. Hermione opened the window as if she had been expecting it. Sure enough, there was an envelope attached to its leg addressed: Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Express, Coach Five, Seat Number Three. "Well, this may tell us the next step," Hermione said, opening the envelope. Out fell two items: a letter and a mysterious-looking two-inch tube made of thin flat pieces of wood tied together with brass wire and red thread. "I know what that is," said Harry. "It's a bassoon reed! Uncle Vernon's brother Henry plays the bassoon and had it over one night at Privet Drive. It sounds really rude."
"Shh, you guys, let me read my letter," Hermione said crossly. She quickly got a big smile on her face as she read. "Listen to this! The letter is from Symphonium Conservatory of Music. It's signed by the headmaster; Professor Arundo Donax. I owled them from the Leaky Cauldron. I told them about the wand in the Mozart exhibit and the musical idea, and they have invited us to visit this weekend! That reed is a port key, a round trip ticket to Symphonium set for Saturday morning at six AM. Are you game?
"It's the first week of school, I don't know." said Harry.
"If we're going to get this concert project off the ground, we have to start now." Hermione was unstoppable. "I told the Symphonium school people my idea of a concert dedicated to Professor Dumbledore, and they were really happy. He has helped them as well and they want to do everything they can for us."
"I suppose a quick trip won't get in the way of school. Harry said." "I'm in, too," said Ron. "I've never seen another wizarding school. Where is it?"
"I don't really know, Hermione answered, "but as long as the port key knows, we're okay. What about you, Whisk." "If you need an elf, Whisk is yours, but he does not know what is to happen yet and wishes to speak with the Hogwarts elves and your Professor Dumbledore first." "That's fine Whisk." Hermione approved of his independent decision-making.
Another tapping on the window signaled a second owl post message. Hermione opened the window, to admit a tiny spotted owl bearing an envelope in its beak. This one was addressed to: Ron Weasley, Hogwarts Express, Carriage Five, Seat Number Two. Ron took the letter with a mystified look on his face. He hadn't been expecting anything. He read the letter out to his friends:
"It's from Ollivanders, the wand shop. It says ŒMy Dear Mr. Weasley, Thank you for informing me about Sir Isaac Newton's wand which you spotted in the British Museum exhibit. The firm has been in touch with the Ministry of Magic, and has gotten exceptional permission to manufacture a duplicate of the wand, and replace the original in the exhibit. After some study and examination, the original wand will replace the dummy display wand in our window at the Diagon Alley shop. It is certain to become a treasured artifact and tourist draw, and will be a boon to the company's public image. Please present yourself at the shop at your earliest opportunity and be fitted with a new Ollivander wand at no charge. Your obedient servant, Ormond Ollivander.' Wow, this is amazing. I hope I get a dragon claw in my wand."
Ron was really happy. Hermione and Harry congratulated him and Whisk looked pleased himself. Harry was especially glad whenever some attention and good fortune happened to Ron. So much of the time things seemed to happen for Harry, and Ron only got to be the sidekick.
There was a noise at the compartment door, and some unwelcome guests entered. Draco Malfoy, and his thug friends Crabbe and Goyle.
"Hello, Potter. So it's true then."
"Goodbye, Malfoy, this compartment is taken."
"The famous Harry Potter is taking on even more airs, now you're bringing a house elf to school, but such a scruffy-looking one." "Last warning Malfoy," Said Harry evenly, "leave now or you can get to Hogsmeade unconscious on the floor like last year." Harry took out his wand and put it in his lap. "Oh don't worry, Potter," I won't hurt you and your little family. Potter the brave Daddy; the mudblood Granger is Mommy; Weasley, the poor adopted orphan child; and now a dusty old house elf. What a sweet domestic scene." "It doesn't work anymore, Malfoy. Your insults are just the same old trash. You can't get my goat with that old song." Harry spoke as if they were all perfectly relaxed, but he was hanging on to Ron's arm and holding him back, Hermione was holding on to Ron's other arm, and everybody was angry. Only Whisk seemed to be truly calm. "Goat! That's what you're missing," Said Malfoy. "You need the family goat. You already smell like a ripe billygoat in here andŠ"
Suddenly everybody was laughing except Malfoy. "What?" Malfoy asked, irritated that his taunting really wasn't getting through. "What's funny?" "Are you planning to apply for that goat position?" Harry asked, "because you are definitely starting to look like a goat to me." It was true. Malfoy's skin was turning mottled gray, his nose lengthening. A gray stringy beard extruded out of his chin. Floppy ears and horns replaced his greasy yellow hair and his fingers and toes were becoming glued into hoofs.
Harry, his friends, and even Crabbe and Goyle were on the floor laughing hysterically at this transformation. Only Whisk seemed unaffected, he sat looking at the whole scene as if it was a stage show being performed for him. Malfoy was panicking by this time. He could not have held a wand if he wanted to, and he could barely stand up on two legs. He turned and stumbled from the compartment and hid somewhere for the rest of the trip.
After Crabbe and Goyle cleared out as well, Ron turned to Harry and said: "That was totally brilliant. You are going to be in so much trouble, and it is worth every bit." "I'm not going to get in trouble - you are!" said Harry. "I mean, it's not like I did anything." "Come on, Harry," Ron said, "you did the most masterful job of turning Malfoy into a goat as could be. And I didn't even see your wand twitch." "Ron," Harry said louder, "cut the fooling around - you did it to Malfoy, didn't you?"
"No! Truth, Harry, I didn't. I don't even know how." Ron said. They both turned to look at Hermione, but she wasn't looking guilty or proud. She was looking amused, and she was looking straight at Whisk.
"Whisk, you old dog," said Ron. "Did you produce that elegant little bit of magic?"
"Yes, Ron Weasley, Whisk is doing it."
"You didn't have to do that for us, Whisk," said Hermione, "We get that all the time from Malfoy, and we can handle him. It was well done, though." "Whisk wasn't doing it for you people," said the house elf. "Whisk is acting on the direct orders of his master, Professor Isaac Newton. While I am working for Master Newton, he has a neighbor, Devon Malfoy, who is being the same sort of nasty and obnoxious boy. He is sometimes hiding in the master's apple tree and dropping apples on his head. The master tells Whisk after one long day of annoying: ŒIf you ever see that boy, or anyone related to that boy, again, turn him into a goat!'
"Whisk is taking only one liberty this time."
"What liberty is that, Whisk?" asked Hermione.
"Whisk is not bothering to check if this Malfoy is from the same family."

Chapter 10 - Symphonium
The Hogwarts Express train soon pulled in to Hogsmeade Station, and all the students sorted themselves out - Upper-years to the carriages, first-years to the boats. Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed with Whisk to get to one of the first carriages, so they would have a chance to bring Whisk to the attention of Professor Dumbledore before the sorting feast. The Professor was overjoyed to meet Whisk, and promptly arranged lodging in the elf wing of the castle. From then on Whisk and Professor Dumbledore spent many hours together, talking about everything from each of their worlds. Sir Isaac Newton was one of Professor Dumbledore's heroes, and this was a priceless opportunity for him. For Whisk, the Professor represented a way of learning about a new world through the eyes of one of the wisest men in that world. They became best of friends.
The students got themselves organized and spent Friday putting away their stuff, arranging their dormitory space, and getting their schedules. Friday night after supper, Ron, Harry, and Hermione fixed their plans for the morning. They had spoken to Professor McGonagall, the head of their house and gotten permission for the trip to Symphonium. Professor McGonagall thought the whole concert idea was wonderful, and she was going to help them. They all swore each other to secrecy. No one was to be told unless they were needed for the project. This was to be a surprise gift to Professor Dumbledore and they were going to try to keep it secret from him until it was ready.
At 4:50AM they met in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione arrived, a few minutes early, carrying a small bag with quills ink and paper. Candles had been lit and a small fire took the early morning chill off. Harry and Ron followed about five minutes later. "Who lit the fire?" asked Harry. "When I have to get up for Quidditch practice at this sort of time, it's cold and dark in here." "At y'r service masters," said Whisk coming out of the shadows in a corner of the room with a big smile. "Thanks, Whisk, you really didn't have to do this, you know." Hermione said, disapproving of being served by the house elf. "Whisk just wants to say Œbon voyage' to his friends, and tell you that he is having a wonderful time at Hogwarts, thanks to you." "How did you get in here, Whisk? Do you know the password?" Ron asked. "House elves comes and goes pretty much as they needs to around here, you know," assured Whisk. "There is no place at Hogwarts where they is forbidden or locked out. That is part of the pride of being a house elf, that trust." Hermione mused: "Whisk, I still don't like the idea of house elf work, but I'm beginning to understand how the elves enjoy their lives, with your help."
"Thank you, Hermione Granger. You might like to know Draco Malfoy is in the Hospital Wing being turned back into as close to human as he gets. Whisk is telling Professor Dumbledore, and he is taking care of it. He let Malfoy stay for a full day with the school goats. He is having, different experiences with the other goats and is not ever, ever wanting anyone to know about this, so he is not causing trouble about it." "Whisk, we're very glad that you're on our side. You'd be too clever as an enemy!" Harry said, laughing with the others at the vision of Malfoy among the goats.
"Now hurry and hold your port key, you is going for a ride in one minute!" Whisk herded them together in the middle of the room, each touching the tiny bassoon reed, and waved goodbye as they were pulled away from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and toward Symphonium Conservatory of Music.
They landed in the front row center seats the first row of the balcony of a concert hall. An old wizard in white robes pinstriped with sheet music staffs sat on one side. The other side was taken up by an enormous witch in dark blue robes with dancing musical notes in gold all over them. Each of them turned to the newcomers and said sshh. On the stage below, an orchestra was about to play. The conductor, a tall, thin witch with very long arms, raised them and brought them down in a vigorous downbeat. Huge rolling brass chords filled the hall, followed by gorgeous violins and violas and cellos. Some parts were stately and slow, others bouncing along, flying and dancing. The music was glorious, and Hermione hoped that they could bring this music to Hogwarts. The conductor moved with the music. Sometimes measured and impressive movements, sometimes almost dancing.
The musicians themselves seemed to be having a marvellous time. Every one of them seemed to be students about the same ages as Hermione, Ron, and Harry, give or take a year. They played their instruments in perfect time and harmony. It was a really beautiful experience. When the piece was finished, the audience, who looked to be other students, applauded and whistled appreciatively.
When the applause finished, the wizard sitting on their left turned and
said: "Ah, intermission. Hello, Hermione, Ron, Harry, welcome to Symphonium Conservatory of Music. I'm Arundo Donax, headmaster and senior orchestra conductor and this is Arietta Loge, our vocal arts teacher." He indicated the large witch sitting on their other side.
"Yes, welcome," said Madame Loge, cordially. "Now who is who. You, of course are Hermione Granger, and this is?" "I'm Ron Weasley, and this is Harry Potter." "Harry Potter! What a pleasure." Harry thought to himself, Œoh well, they know me here too.' Sure enough Madame Loge performed the eye flick to check out Harry's scar. Harry only
said: "The pleasure's mine Madame Loge, Professor Donax."
"That was glorious music," Hermione gushed, "what was it?"
"It was the overture to one of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's most famous operas
- the Magic Flute. You should hear my students perform the whole piece. It is a thing of beauty, if I say so myself." Professor Loge was just as enthusiastic as Hermione "That is the music I would like to take back to Hogwarts for our concert. I am absolutely sure of it. And with the name the Magic Flute, well, it couldn't be more perfect. This was such a beautiful performance. Could you come and perform the opera at Hogwarts?" "Thanks for the compliments," Professor Loge replied. "Our program is very full, and the students are busy here, but we can show you how to perform it yourselves with Hogwarts students." "How could we do that?" Ron wanted to know. "This is the best concert I've ever heard! These students must have practiced for years to play so well."
Professor Donax had a gleam in his eye that seemed familiar to the Hogwarts students. "Well, actually, this is not a concert. This is a Care of Magical Creatures class. And none of the students played a note of music. The music was all produced by the instruments, which are actually transformed magical animals. We set it up like a concert to train the animals for their new roles. Here - the music is about to start again. Take these glasses and watch the rest of the class." The professor handed them each a pair of glasses. ŒTRU-VUE-SPEX' was stamped on the side of each pair. ŒSee the True Nature of each instrument; also allows you to see through large hats, tall people and overdone hairstyles.' When the orchestra started playing, they could clearly see that each instrument was a charmed creature. Most of the violins and violas were cats, and the students were not really fingering, bowing, and plucking them. With the glasses on, it was clear the students were holding them; stroking and petting their animal-instruments to get them to purr.
When the music ended, Professor Donax turned the Hogwarts students over to Professor Loge.
"I must get back to my work," apologized the headmaster, but I do want you to know how pleased I am that you are doing this for Albus. He and I have always been close, and I know how much he will apreciate it. Hogwarts' concert hall was once filled with music all the time. Arietta will take you to meet the class and their instruments, and will organize whatever help we can offer. Good luck Hermione, Ron, Harry."
The applause died down and the audience began to file out. Professor Loge said "Let's go meet the class. You'll have to make allowances for Professor Note. She is rather the most serious witch in the school." Leaning down to whisper she said: "Grace Note is a good musician, but a great ego. We all have to be a bit careful around her." Harry, Ron, Hermione and Professor Loge exchanged conspiratorial smiles. They were soon introduced to the class and their instruments. The teacher who conducted the orchestra, Professor Note, liked to be called ŒMaestro Note'. Tall and thin, she spoke with a tall thin voice as well, and sounded like she was rather strict. Professor Note was in charge of both Transformation and Care of Magical Creatures at Symphonium, which were taught as one class. "Just as students are chosen who have a certain talent for magic," she explained, "not every animal is magical or musical. We help students recognize the best specimens for the job, and to take care of their animals when they are not playing. A talented magical cat will enjoy being a violin, but must have some time to eat and play as a cat as well, of course." "Are magical violins always cats, Maestro Note?" Hermione asked. "What about other animals?" "Oh yes, many other animals are good at this. It really depends on the specific talent of the individual. It is traditional to have cats for violins, because they do have good qualities. They have tails, for example. This enables a cat to whip its tail into place to instantly replace a broken string during a performance. Usually certain creatures do show a talent for specific instruments. If you look through the orchestra here, you will see there are toad bassoons, owlflutes, ducklarinets, serpent horns, trumpeter swans, bass bears and cellogators, to name but a few, all under my perfect control."
"Not exactly perfect. She actually has a rather troublesome elephantuba," Professor Loge whispered to Hermione. "The animal is one of the most talented magical ones we have seen, but he is very ticklish and often produces rather loud giggling blasts at odd moments. And she also let a pipe organ go too long between charm renewals - they're dragons, you know - and it caught fire and almost burned down the school."
"Do the students need to be talented, too," "Ron wanted to know, "or can anybody play them?" "Mr. Weasley," said Professor note a tad stiffly, "Symphonium only admits the most talented of music witches and wizards in any case. As with everything, the more talent, practice and dedication you put into your playing, the better it will be. Even a wizard such as yourself, teamed up with a sufficiently talented charmed animal/instrument, could play a piece correctly. But to produce a truly virtuoso performance - that requires a great deal of work and talent." "Don't be insulted, Ron," came Loge's whisper, "she says that sort of thing to all of us."
"Do you mean the great musicians were always wizards and witches?" Harry asked. "Ah, great musicians. Many have been magical, many muggle. Genius appears unpredictably in all creatures. One thing I can tell you is that when a top quality charmed instrument gets together with a master performer, they can help each other to even greater heights." Professor Loge whispered: "She means the instrument sometimes produces a spare finger or two to help with the difficult parts."
Professor Note continued: "Sometimes there are whole magic ensembles, for example, the Berlin Philharmonic orchestra, under the dark wizard Lord Herbert von Karajan. And then others where only the conductor was a wizard, such as Leonard Bernstein. You could ask your Gilderoy Lockhart about him - they were friends at one time. Leonard could get magic out of any musician, witch, wizard, or muggle."
The three Hogwarts students got to meet some of the students, who seemed very friendly and willing to help, and also met more of the faculty. There was Clariana Fanfare, and Ernesto Fagott who taught Arithmancy, Astrology, and Astronomy together as ŒThe Music of the Spheres'; Viola Fret, the rather high-strung music Librarian who kept everything organized, and Atmo Zakes, coach of the school precision flying team, ŒSoaring Harmony.' They discussed the details of what help could come from Symphonium for the concert over lunch. By the time Harry, Ron and Hermione were ready to go back to Hogwarts, they had promises of the loan of some instruments trained to play Œthe Magic Flute' and instructions in how to prepare the rest.
They got back to Hogwarts in the early evening, and were met with the scare of their lives. As the Gryffindor common room appeared around them the first thing they saw was the menacing dark shape of Professor Snape standing, wand raised, right in front of them. He performed an odd movement with his wand and spoke. "Ah, what do we have here, the usual suspects, it seems." Snape smirked. "Up to no good, I imagine." Hermione stood tall and said: "We have full permission for this trip from Professor McGonagall." What are you doing?" "I am aware of that, Miss Granger, and if it is any of your business, what I am doing is sweeping the room for unwanted negative elements which may have accompanied you. It is a new port key security measure since the unfortunate Tri-Wizard Cup incident."
"And did you find any?." Asked Hermione suspiciously. "Nothing unusual. Just two, and I believe you call them your friends." Snape glanced at Harry and Ron." "We've done nothing wrong, Professor Snape!" Harry said. "Take care that you do not, Potter, Weasley." Professor Snape looked at them all with an intense expression, then turned and left.
"That was very strange." Ron said. "I wasn't ready for Snape. He's really watching us." Hermione said: "Oh Ron, don't be paranoid. That's just Snape's way. I think he dislikes every student who's not a Slytherin. Besides, I'm not surprised there are new security measures around port key use. It's very rare at Hogwarts, and after Harry's experienceŠ" "Don't remind me." Harry said. "Now what are our next moves?" "We'll have to let Hagrid in on the project," Ron said. "He's going to have to mind the instrument/animals. I bet we can ask him to make it the term project in Care of Magical Creatures. He'll be dead pleased getting to work with training the new ones." "Professor Flitwick in Charms will be ready to help, and Professor McGonagall already said she would work it into Transformation," Hermione said, really pleased with the day. "I think we got a lot done."

Chapter 11 - Secrets

"Hey, did we miss dinner?" Ron wanted to know.
Harry checked his wristwatch-tattoo, which automatically adjusted for time zones. "I'm afraid so." "Come on guys," Hermione said, "we just finished lunch at Symphonium." "I know," Ron said, "but I'll be hungry later, andŠ" Ron's lament was cut short by a familiar voice: "At y'r service." Whisk was coming toward them with a covered tray. He put it on a sideboard saying "Whisk is thinking you might be late, and ordered a tray of sandwiches, cakes and iced pumpkin juice. Here it is whenever you need it." "Thanks Whisk," they all said. Hermione added: "You don't have to serve us, you know. You can do as you please." "Whisk is doing as he pleases, Hermione Granger. How is the visit to Symphonium?" "It was wonderful, Whisk. The professors and students there are so friendly, we will get a lot of help for our concert." Hermione said.
Harry had a thought. "Whisk, maybe you could help with this. One of the professors mentioned that the concert hall at Hogwarts used to be full of music. I didn't think of it then, but I never heard of it. Is there a separate concert hall or did he mean the Great Hall?" "Of course there is a concert hall," Whisk replied, "and a fine one it is. When Professor Newton and Whisk are at Hogwarts there is many concerts and many musical witches and wizards." "I wonder what happened?" mused Harry. "We have no special music courses or anything." "I'm pretty sure I know what the story is," said Hermione, "but I'll have to do a little library research on it. Speaking of which, let's not forget we're students here. We have one more day before classes begin."
"Don't worry, Hermione." Ron reassured her. "We're okay, and I'm sure you were ready for school to begin weeks ago." Harry chimed in: "in fact, you're the one setting the coursework this year, it looks like, what with getting McGonagall and Hagrid to make the concert a big part of their courses." "Thanks for reminding me about Hagrid." Hermione said. "Let's see him tomorrow and ask for his help. Thanks again, Whisk. I'm going to the library for a bit, but I'll have some food when I get back." "Yeah, thanks." Added Ron and Harry.
"You are most welcome. Whisk would like to show you something." The elf walked to the great fireplace mantle. "Ah yes, here it is." he indicated something just to the right of the fireplace, on the side of the mantlepiece. The three students looked carefully. As Whisk put his hand near the wooden mantle, it opened up a slot and a ribbon about a foot long rolled out. "The elves are telling Whisk that no one is using this anymore, but in Professor Newton's day, this is letting you call your house elf when you needs him. All you has to do when you wants Whisk is tug on this bell-pull and Whisk will come. These are all over the school." Hermione looked disapproving again. "I bet they don't use that system because we don't bring personal house-elf servants to school these days. I don't want you to feel like our slave." "Begging your pardon, Hermione Granger, but please do not get your hair in a twist. When are you going to believe Whisk when he says he is doing what he likes. Whisk is enjoying being friends with you and is just making it easier for all of us for keeping in touch. Since no one else is using the bells, Whisk will know whenever he is hearing it that you are inviting him. "My apologies, Whisk." Hermione said, a bit embarrassed. "It just seemed so
- I don't know - Œservant-like' or something. I understand now. See you everyone." Whisk and Hermione departed. Ron headed for the sandwich tray, saying: "Well, me for some food here, and then I think I'll kip. It's getting late." "Me too," said Harry. They munched silently for a bit and went up to bed.
The next day brought a visit to Hagrid, to get him in on the concert project. Hermione knocked Harry and Ron up at eight in the morning.
"Hermione, said Ron, this is Sunday morning! Yesterday we were up at 4:30, and today is Sunday, to boot! You wouldn't treat house elves like this."
"You're not elves." Hermione said drily. "We are all students, let's get going."
"Okay, we'll be down in a couple of minutes."
When Harry and Ron got down to the common room, they found Hermione sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs with her face in her hands crying. "What's wrong, Hermione? Are you okay?" They both asked. "I'm sorry for pushing you into all this. I feel guilty that I'm taking up your time. If you fell behind in school, it would be my fault.
"Hermione, we're in this together." Harry said, putting a hand on her shoulder. I think this is a great thing to do for Professor Dumbledore, and everybody who has heard of it agrees. "Nobody is doing this because they have to." Ron added. "The same thing goes for us as goes for Whisk. We're actually having fun with it. We'll let you know if it really gets to be too much."
"Sure we will," Harry agreed. "I've faced Voldemort, after all, it's only a little tougher to stand up to youŠ. Just kidding. Will you be okay?"
"Thanks, guys. I guess I've got a lot to learn, too. Let's go see Hagrid." "Can we make a short stop to collect a few things at breakfast?" Ron suggested." If we don't bring something with us we will wind up eating Hagrid's cooking again, I just know it." "Good idea," Harry said, and they stopped in the Great Hall for provisions.
They took turns knocking on Hagrid's door until they got a response after about five minutes. Even then it was just a grunt, and then a few barks from Fang, Hagrid's dog. About five minutes later, Hagrid finally appeared.
"Who is it at this hour?" he said, opening the door. "Oh, hello Harry, Ron, Hermione. Come in, come in. I been waitin' for you. You been back at school three days and didn't visit yet. Let me put on the teapot."
"Hagrid, if it's too early in the morningŠ."
"Naw, don't worry about it. It's not too early this morning, it was too late last night, if you catch my drift. Can I cook you up some breakfast?"
"Thanks, Hagrid, but we brought some stuff from the castle - here, join us."
"Don't mind if I do. What you got going? Somehow I bet you're going to make life interestin' around here again."
"Now how do you know something's up?" asked Harry.
"Aw, I won't try to hide it from you - I got an owl from Symphonium Conservatory of Music. They were askin' some very strange questions about space for animals. They said you would explain. The three explained the whole project to Hagrid. He was so happy he cried. When they had covered everything Hagrid said: "This is the best day since, well I don't know when. Professor Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had, an' the greatest gentleman, too. Hermione, I'll do anything you need. I think your idea fer Care o' Magical Creatures is lovely. We can share the training sessions an' play sessions an' such through the different classes."
"Hagrid," Hermione looked him in the eyes - which was no easy task from three feet below his eye level - "Hagrid, can you keep this a secret from Professor Dumbledore?" "Good question, but the answer is yes. I'm not much good with ordinary secrets, but this one is important to you three, and I think the Professor will be really pleased with it. It's like a surprise birthday party. In fact, why don't you have the concert on his birthday?" "We never thought of that. It's a great idea. When is his birthday?" They all spoke at once.
Hagrid sat up proudly. "Well I know, and it's a secret I been keeping for years. How's that for proof I can keep a secret, Hermione?" "It's great, Hagrid, but now's the time to tell it." "You're right about that. Albus Dumbledore's birthday comes on the last day of first term. He told me he secretly thinks of the Christmas feast as his birthday party, even if only the two of us know about it. He'll sometimes sit at the table when the sweets are served an' give me a special wink like Œthis is my birthday cake.' It would be really great - you could set up the musicians all around the Great Hall an' play before the feast."
"That's another question." Hermione suddenly remembered. "Hagrid, do you know if there is a concert hall somewhere in the castle? I read in ŒHogwarts, A History' that there was one many years ago." "I don't know, Hermione, I never heard of it, and I been here over fifty years. Are you sure they didn't mean the Great Hall? It's a beautiful place for everythin'. They might'a been meaning the Great Hall. You can redecorate it and put in a stage and seats and everythin' with a wave of a wand, if you know the right spells."
Harry asked: "Hagrid, why isn't there magical music here?
"Sure there is magical music here," Said Hagrid. "Wait - I'll show you." Hagrid looked around on his shelves that were so high off the floor Harry, Ron and Hermione couldn't see what was on them. He didn't find what he was looking for there, and then looked under his huge bed. Reaching right under, he pulled out seven huge boots, two giant blankets, three nightcaps, a few socks, a teddy bear about the size of a real bear, and a clear crystal box about a foot long and wide and six inches high.
"Aha, There y'are."
Hagrid brought the crystal box over to the table.
There was piece of blank music parchment inside the box, with just lines for notes drawn on it, but no notes. The parchment was glued to a crank that stuck out of the box. "Well, it doesn't look very magical to me, or musical either, for that matter." said Ron. "It isn't" Hagrid agreed, "Except in Quaver-Fly season. Quaver-Flies are about the smallest magical creatures there is - just a little black speck with a tail. You take this box an' catch a bunch of Quaver-Flies in it, see. Then you close the box up, turn the crank, an' the flies buzz around for awhile. They land all on the music parchment, an' the box starts playin' the music they spell out. When the tune is over, you turn the crank again to shake up the Quaver-Flies, an' they do it all again! One really good year for Quaver-Flies we had a whole symphony out of that box. If the crop is good this season, I'll invite you down for a concert party right here."
The conversation turned to what sort of parties Hagrid had, and after a last cup of tea, the trio took their leave, promising to keep him up to date on the project.
As they were walking back to the castle, Hermione said: "Okay, I feel like we have done just about everything we could do to get things started. Let's get down to being students for awhile. Now that we have a date in mind, we don't have much to do until the charmed animals start coming in anyhow."
The semester started slowly. The Gryffindors had Charms and Transformation with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures with Ravenclaw. That was good, because it meant that the project could be kept secret from the Slytherins. It would be guaranteed trouble if Draco Malfoy, or his goons Crabbe, and Goyle got wind of any project headed by Hermione, Ron, or Harry. Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was just as pleased as everyone else with the concert idea, and he had some experience with musical charms. Professor McGonagall was introducing the theory of transforming animals into musical instruments as if it was a regular part of her course, and Hagrid was busy building the special accommodations for all the new magical creatures they would be getting.
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Chapter 12 - Meeting with Dumbledore
A week into term, at breakfast one morning Professor Dumbledore was just coming out the door to the Great Hall as Harry was going in. Harry tried to slip by unnoticed. Dumbledore was the last person Harry wanted to meet while he was trying to keep a secret. No luck, though, The professor stopped and called to him.
"Harry, would you come to my office this afternoon? I'd like a word with you." "Certainly, Sir. I'll be there right after lunch." Harry hoped Dumbledore couldn't tell how nervous he was. He didn't know anything about the surprise, did he? Harry filled his plate and hurried to the table where Hermione and Ron were chowing down on sausage omelets. He told them about Professor Dumbledore. "Don't worry," said Ron through a mouthful of food. "I think it is okay, Harry," said Hermione after swallowing hers. "Professor Dumbledore stopped to talk to us as he was leaving. He wants to tell you something about the Ministry meetings he's been at." "How am I going to keep our secret?" worried Harry. "Just be yourself, Harry," Hermione reassured him. "It'll be fine."

When it was almost time to go see Professor Dumbledore, Harry was having some trouble being himself; unless that self was someone who couldn't eat lunch for being nervous. That self, unfortunately, he was really good at right now.
Harry walked down the corridor where Dumbledore's office was, and found the gargoyle had already stepped aside and the doorway to the moving stairs was open. Harry took a deep breath and went in. He knocked at the door, and was amused to see Professor Dumbledore at his desk, with Fawkes, his pet Phoenix, sitting on his head. ŒNice hat.' Harry thought, but kept it to himself. "Nice hat, isn't it?" Professor Dumbledore said, reading his mind. With a wave of his hand, he sent Fawkes to his perch. He waved Harry to a seat as well.
"Harry, I was wondering how you feel now, coming back to Hogwarts after the events of the Tri-Wizards Tournament? I know it was hard on you at the time."
"I'm all right, Sir. Things are going well so far." Dumbledore smiled at Harry with those piercing but gentle blue eyes, and Harry did start to feel better. At least he wasn't asking about the secret project. Harry relaxed a bit more. "Harry, when it was all over, I asked you many questions, but I'm sure you have a question or two for me. We didn't have too much time to talk with all the confusion of the time."
It all came rushing back to Harry. The horror of facing Voldemort again, and losing to him; Harry could feel the spot on his arm where Wormtail had cut him to take blood to restore Voldemort to his body. Harry didn't want to say anything, but he couldn't stop the words coming out: "Professor Dumbledore, I feel like I let everyone down. If not for me, Voldemort wouldn't be strong again. Was there something I could have done?" Dumbledore looked at him with an expression Harry did not expect. He looked proud. He looked like a proud father pleased with his son's work. Harry felt warmed and happy, but he didn't understand. After a moment, the Professor said:
"Harry, you did exactly the right thing all along. You made no mistakes and everything worked exactly as it was supposed to work."
But Voldemort isn't gone. He can return." Harry said, trying to figure out what Professor Dumbledore meant. "Oh yes, Harry, Voldemort will return." Dumbledore had a strange expression on his face - sad, determined, and contented all at once. "He'll be back, and we shall have to be ready for him. And thanks to you, Harry, he will not be the all-powerful evil force he once was." "But he defeated me this time, Professor Dumbledore," said Harry, confused; "He took my blood!" "Yes, Harry, he took your blood, and that will eventually be his downfall." Dumbledore now had a clear look of triumph on his face. "I hoped and planned for this. Not that I wanted to put you in danger, but if it came to that I worked for the best possible outcome. I was sure Voldemort would be tempted by you, Harry the one person he could never defeat. "When wizards battle at such a level, each leaves a bit of himself with the other. When Voldemort insisted on your blood, Harry, he was taking in some essential part of you as well, and your essence is goodness, love, loyalty and courage. Your mother's ultimate love protected you from Voldemort's ultimate evil. Now he has taken some of this quality into himself. You told me he could touch you now." "If Voldemort got something good from me, what did I get from him?" Harry asked, a look of concern on his face. "Am I going to be a bit evil now?" "Not to worry, Harry," Professor Dumbledore laughed his gentle, reassuring laugh. "Good is always stronger than evil. You will have gotten whatever quality of Voldemort that can increase your own power for good. Look back at your first encounter with him. What you got at that time was his power of Parseltongue. You too can speak with snakes." "But people think that is an evil sign," said Harry. "I know, Harry." Professor Dumbledore seemed to be enjoying talking with Harry. It had been a long time since he had a teaching role, and he savored it.
"The people who believe that, and the people who cannot bring themselves to say Voldemort's name are just responding to old superstitions. Superstition is not reality. You know Parseltongue is just a way of communicating with another sort of creature, nothing more and nothing less. It is a gift. You got the most innocent of Voldemort's powers that day."
"Then what did I get this time, Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked. "Does Voldemort even have any other good qualities?" "Never underestimate others, Harry." Dumbledore cautioned. "Not even your enemies. Voldemort is clever, resourceful and persistent. Most other witches and wizards would have died after being hit by the curse that bounced off you back at him. Maybe not in the moment, but in the thirteen years following. Voldemort never gave up. He found host after host, plan after plan. He tried everything he could possibly think of to survive. As Tom Riddle he had a fine mind. He was intelligent and a quick study. I believe, Harry, that you have perhaps increased your store of these powerful, and good, qualities."
"So is Voldemort finished?" Harry was feeling a mix of fear and relief, and he didn't quite know which to trust. "I believe that good is always stronger than evil, Harry, and your good has entered the body of Voldemort. He will still have the instinct and the power to do evil. We still must prepare for confrontation with him; but I think his heart won't be in it anymore. Not the way it used to be. Voldemort's reflexes will be off as his internal struggle grows, and he will make mistakes." Professor Dumbledore looked over at Harry, and took out his wand. He waved it and produced a plate of chocolate chip cookies and two glasses of milk. Harry realized he was starving. They shared the snack in silence, Harry eating four cookies for every one Professor Dumbledore ate. Harry felt so relieved. He could have flown without a broomstick. He needed to remember more often who his friends were.

Chapter 13 - Hermione Granger, Symphonium Student
At lunch Thursday, Hermione came to sit with Harry and Ron for the first time in a while. "Hi Hermione," said Harry. "Hi Hermione," said Ron, "What are you up to? I haven't seen you outside class for ages." "I've been right where I should be, studying. Some people don't use the library as much as they ought. Anyhow, I'm feeling more caught up and I think it's time to do some more on the Magic Flute concert. Can we get together in the common room tonight, say about eight-thirty?" "Fine with me," "and me." Harry and Ron chorused. "Okay, I have to get back to the library," said Hermione, grabbing an apple and disappearing out the door. "That girl is going to burn out if she doesn't slow down." Ron said looking after her.
Harry wasn't so sure: "If that's burnout, maybe we need a little heating up ourselves. She gets the work done. I think Hermione thrives on all that studying. What do you figure she wants to do tonight?" "Hagrid said there had been more owls from Symphonium, so she probably has news about the animals." Ron said.
When they arrived in the common room a few minutes early, they were surprised to see Whisk and Hermione talking intensely. As they walked in they heard him say "Well, it is risky business, Hermione Granger, but if you are sure, then of course." "Thanks, Whisk. You're a good friend." Whisk waved a greeting to Ron and Harry as he left. Hi Ron, Harry. I was just getting a bit of help from Whisk. I wanted to tell you I'm going to Symphonium for the weekend. I got permission to spend some time with them." "Is there something you can do there that you can't do from here?" Harry asked. "I bet it's because they have a library you haven't eaten yet." Ron commented, smiling. "Well, a little of both." Hermione smiled back. "Professor Note is going to give me conducting lessons, and I am going to conduct the concert!" "Can you do that?" asked Harry. "I'm sure I can; especially with a little magical help. Professor Note is arranging some very special tutoring sessions. I owled her about how my wand has the same magical object in it that Mozart's wand has - the siren hair. Her last owl said that the Ministry of Magic is allowing them to borrow the wand from the museum, so Mozart's wand will train my wand for the concert! Meanwhile, she thinks we can conjure Mozart's ghost himself to tutor me! And in my spare time I can study what their library has on performing the Magic Flute."
"That sounds like a pretty full schedule, Hermione. Did you leave time for having a pee in there somewhere?" Ron asked. "Oh you guys, I'll be fine. Professor Note will have everything ready and I'll use my time very efficiently, as always. Let's get together Sunday night when I get back. I should have some news then, and I think we're going to have a job to do." "It's a date." Said Ron and Harry.
The weekend came and went. Ron was cranking out his first essays for several courses, all of them due Monday, of course. Harry was busy with a weekend Quidditch camp. He was playing in intersquad Quidditch matches. The new Gryffindor coach had half of the team flying against the other half in practice matches instead of just going through drills. They were having tryouts for new players, and had a second year seeker, so Harry got a chance to fly all positions, and only flew seeker for one game a session. It kept him plenty busy.
Hermione returned in time for supper on Sunday and the first Harry and Ron saw of her was when she came to their end of the table. Ron saw her first and gave Harry a kick as she approached. "Welcome back, Hermione," Harry said as he looked up from his plate "How did itŠyou lookŠdifferent." All Ron could manage was: "Wow!" "Thanks, guys; I had a really good time." "Oh come on, Hermione," Harry said, "there has to be more to it. Your hair is different. I think you have makeup on. You seem taller and just, well, more grown up." "I stayed with a girl at Symphonium school who liked to do makeovers, and she gave me one." "Then she's just brilliant," said Ron. "I mean, you look great." "It's okay, Ron, don't hold back like that. Tell me what you really think." Hermione teased gently, but she clearly was enjoying the spotlight.
They ate and talked about her weekend at Symphonium. She had lots of stories. She mentioned several students and teachers she had spent time with, and classes she had sat in on, in addition to her conducting tutoring and working with the Magic Flute music and charmed-creature instruments. Harry halted her in mid-flight. "Hang on there, Hermione. Just how long were you at Symphonium?" Ron said: "That's a dumb question, Harry. She left Friday, and returned today. Do the math." Harry locked eyes with her. Harry continued looking at her. "Hermione? How long." She broke the eye contact and looked just a little embarrassed as she answered: "A whole semester."
"What, how, huh?" Ron was incoherent.
Hermione admitted "I couldn't possibly get everything I wanted done in a weekend. The conducting is a whole course by itself, even with ghostly help. I also studied the Magic Flute in a course by itself, and learned about the special charms and spells for the performance. I needed more time." Ron recovered his tongue: "And you got it with the Time-Turner, again." "Right in one," Harry said, "only this time it was Whisk's Time-Turner, wasn't it?" "That's right. Whisk and I figured out another way to use the Time-Turner." McGonagall's model has a governor charm on it so it can only turn a few hours at a time. Whisk's original is the only one that can do it."
"Are you okay?" Ron asked, "Were there any bad effects?" "Everything is fine, as far as I can see," Hermione answered. "You seem to appreciate the side effects." She tossed her hair and smiled at him for a demonstration. Ron turned redder than his own hair.
Not to change the subject, or anything," said Harry, changing the subject, "but what is our next move for the project, Hermione?" "Okay," she said, suddenly all business. "The next problem is the concert hall. I was hoping to find some information on it at the Symphonium library, but all I found were old reports of concerts there. There was no real proof of whether it was the Great Hall or another place." "What do you think?" Harry asked." "I think there is a real concert hall somewhere else in the castle. Here's what I did find. Hermione pulled a rolled parchment out of her bag and spread it on the table. It was a copy of a wall plaque. Ron read the old engraving: "Symphonium Conservatory of Music, established 1700A.D. Henceforth musical witches and wizards formerly educated at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will have their own independent school." "I think this means that Hogwarts used to have the music school here, and that maybe they simply closed up the concert hall when they didn't need it. The only thing that mystifies me is, well wouldn't we come across it once in awhile? How could a whole concert hall disappear?" "I'm not surprised about that," said Harry, "it seems like new rooms and things are showing up all the time around here. It's amazing I can find breakfast some days." Ron piped up "What about the marauder's map you got from Fred and George, it might show up on that." Harry was always a little shy to mention the map in front of Ron. He worried Ron might still hold it against him that Fred and George gave the map to him. Ron was their own brother, after all. Ron seemed okay with it though, just now. "Okay, let's get together tonight and see if we can find it," Hermione started barking orders like an army officer. "Harry, bring the invisibility cloak and the map. Ron, you lurk out in the hallway outside the Gryffindor common room at midnight, and we'll leave from there." "Aye aye sir, Hermione sir," mocked Ron and Harry in chorus. "Don't be like that, you guys. You know the story, we're using a lot of school time for this and we're still students." "Yeah, I know," said Ron to Hermione; "you haven't been in a library since this afternoon. You're probably having withdrawal symptoms." Ron was smiling, and she knew he was just kidding, mostly. "Hermione," Ron said. "It's really good to have you back. We didn't know how long we missed you, if that makes any sense." "Well no, it doesn't, but I know what you mean. I missed you every day." Hermione smiled at them both.
As Harry rummaged through his trunk for the invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map, he thought about all the action of last term. He had only gotten the map back when Professor Dumbledore finished examining it after retrieving it from the fake Mad-Eye Moody. Harry had promised to use it only if he absolutely had to, and then only for the most harmless sort of mischief. Now Harry wasn't so sure he wanted to get them out quite so soon. This was such a great opportunity to give something back to Professor Dumbledore, though. Harry knew it would be worth every bit of the trouble he could get into.
Just before midnight, Harry and Hermione met in the common room. Harry had a quick peek at the map and didn't see any sign of trouble. He also didn't see anything remotely like a concert hall marked on it "Even this map doesn't have it, Hermione. Where are we going to look" "Look around the outside edge of the map - here, and here," Hermione was pointing to some lightly sketched in walls in the wing furthest from the main entrance hall, "I don't think those are outside walls. I bet the concert hall hasn't been used so long that everyone has forgotten about it. Even the writers of that map fifty years ago didn't ever see it. I think we might just find it there." Just then there was a hiss from the portrait hole, and they went out to join Ron. "It's just a guess, but follow me." Harry looked at the spot Hermione was pointing to, and took the most direct route. The map didn't show anyone in their path. "Be ready to slip under the cloak if we hear anybody," he said.
They were lucky and unlucky. They walked around practically the entire castle without running into a teacher, Peeves, or any ghosts. They didn't get back to Gryffindor tower and their beds until four o'clock in the morning. They also didn't find a trace of the concert hall, if there was one.

Chapter 14 - The Concert Hall

Barely dragging themselves to Monday morning's Potions class in the dungeon, Harry, Ron and Hermione found their accustomed back row seats and tried to stay awake as Professor Snape droned on about the proper techniques of handling toxic herbs a sleep-inducing lecture. It was not long before all three were snoring loud enough to attract the attention of the teacher "Ah, how sad," Professor Snape said in a soft voice, "these three students have lost Gryffindor ten points each for sleeping in class." In an even softer voice, only audible to one Draco Malfoy and his friends, Snape
whispered: "the also seem to have missed my vital warnings about how to handle raw rainbow pimpleweed. Should they get any of this on their hands, and then rub their eyes when they awaken, they risk painful and ugly consequences." And again to the class: "I have to leave the room for five minutes to find an herb-proof box. No one is to wake the sleeping beauties, on pain of detention." Snape left the room. Malfoy was up to the front in no time, wand out, carefully picking up the pimpleweed with the ŒWingardium Leviosa' spell and directing it in a caressing motion across the hands of the sleeping students. By the time Snape returned, he had returned the herb and was in his seat. Professor Snape charmed the rainbow pimpleweed into the box, and dismissed the class.
"Remember, should you waken these poor, tired students on your way out, you will be severely punished."
The students all filed out trying to be as quiet as possible. The Slytherins left first, filing one by one silently past the sleeping Harry, Hermione and Ron. When the Gryffindors began to leave, there was whispering between them, and then they crowded around the sleepers. Several had their wands out, and by the time they left, all three had had their hands silently and securely tied to their desks, and small pieces of parchment in front of their faces with warnings about the pimpleweed. They were all out of the dungeon when Snape looked up and saw what they had done. Before he could stop himself, he shouted: "I said you would be punished." Of course, this did waken the trio, and they quickly sized up the situation. A very disagreeable-looking Snape waved his wand, removing the binding charm, and said: "Alright, wash your hands and get out of here. Do not sleep in my class again."
The three Gryffindors washed at the dungeon sink and kept dropping the soap, they were shaking so much. They got out as fast as they could. They didn't even talk to each other until they were out of the room. "That was close." Harry said, still shaking. "Snape hates it when anybody falls asleep. He takes it personally." "I think he was giving a boring lecture on purpose." Ron said. "Do you think he knew we'd been up all night?" "I hope not," Hermione was worried. "I really want this surprise to work." They made their way to lunch, and found three empty seats together at the end of the table, so they could continue their conversation privately. "We still don't know where the concert hall is, or even if it exists." Hermione said, "and I'm running low on ideas." "Weren't you pretty sure it's out there somewhere?" Harry asked. "Yes, I was, but really, all I have to go on are some library references that are pretty vague. It was just so long ago. There's nobody still around who ever saw it." "Bingo," said Harry. "You just said the magic words, Hermione. There is so someone here who saw the concert hall.!" "I get it," said Ron, excitedly "it's Whisk. He even said it used to be full of music. He must know how to find it!"
"Of course." Hermione was all energy now, every trace of tiredness gone. "We have an hour before Charms class. Lets go back to the tower and find that bell pull to call Whisk!" They set off at a run through the castle and reached Gryffindor tower in no time, but "Trufflepig" the latest password, brought only "One moment, please," from the Fat Lady in the portrait. Agonizing minutes later she appeared, hair in curlers, and swung aside to admit the students, all the while muttering about not getting time for herself and working all day and half the night.
Whisk responded in an instant when Hermione pulled the ribbon. "Hello Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, what can Whisk do for his best friends."
Whisk had a big smile on his face. "Whisk is pleased Hermione is using the bell and that his friends is wanting something. Hermione got right down to business: "Whisk, we are having no luck finding the concert hall. Do you know where it is?" She looked at the elf hopefully. "Why certainly! Whisk is going there many times to serve his master Professor Newton." "That's wonderful, Whisk. Can you take us there?" Harry wanted to know. "Of course, Whisk can do that, but you is being a little large. Whisk doesn't know if you is fitting in." "What does that mean?" Hermione said. "Whisk is only knowing how to get there through the house elf service entrance. Everywhere at Hogwarts there is hidden passages and doors for house elves to use for service. You doesn't even see them coming and going, cleaning up and laying the fires and lighting the lamps. A proper house elf can come into your dormitory, change the sheets, sweep the floor, polish the furniture and leave with you sitting up reading in bed and not seeing him. And that is not using any magic." Hermione wondered aloud: "Yes, but what does that have to do with us being too big?" "The passageways and doors is elf-size, Hermione Granger. Not human-size." "There must be a way we can do this." Ron said. "What if just the smallest one of us goes with Whisk" "Begging your pardon, but Whisk is sure you can't fit. Here, Whisk is showing you." And with that, Whisk led them over to the shadowy corner he always came from, and showed them a narrow low crack in the wall in the shape of a door. With a flick of a finger on a part of the wall molding, the door swung open into a passage between the walls of this room and the next one. It was definitely too small for any of the three of them to enter.
Harry was looking thoughtful, and gazed at the entry and the passage for a long moment. He stuck his head in the crack, tapped the door and the wall. Then he stood up again and looked at the door again for awhile. Finally he spoke:
"Here's my idea. Whisk, can you go through the house elf passage slowly, and tap on the wall for us to follow. We'll tap back to show we're still with you, and you can lead us to the concert hall. That should work, shouldn't it? Whisk thought for a moment, himself. "Yes Harry Potter, this plan is working, but is not being easy. This is a magic castle. Sometimes the house elf passages is taking shortcuts." "This sounds like it could take some time," Hermione said. "Are you guys up for another late night?"
"Try and keep me away!" Ron was enthusiastic.
"Count me in, and we get a break this time," Harry said. "Tomorrow we have first period off. There's a teachers' meeting. We can sleep in." "Okay, it's a date. Whisk, can you meet us after dinner? I think we can start earlier - there are no rules now against strolling the castle before bedtime." "Whisk is thinking you should meet him outside the kitchens. The passageway is being much shorter from there." "Okay," Hermione agreed, "eight o'clock outside the painting of the fruit bowl that leads to the kitchens."
The three students just had time to grab their Charms books and run to class. All the of the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were there, and in the five minutes before class started, Harry, Hermione and Ron talked to the Gryffindors to thank them for their help in Snape's class. Professor Flitwick arrived and taught the class a spell to make a whistling teapot produce tunes. Hermione realized he was beginning to prepare them for the Magic Flute performance, although they didn't know it yet. She looked around to see who looked like likely candidates for the concert. Just about everyone was able to produce a tune of sorts, although Neville Longbottoms teapot had a droopy spout, was whistling slightly out of tune, and would emit a rather loud belch every once in awhile.
When eight o'clock arrived, Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed for the stairway down under the Great Hall. They arrived outside the painting of the fruit bowl as Whisk came from the other direction. The house elf said: "Whisk is going through the kitchen into the service passage. When you is hearing a knock right there," Whisk indicated a spot about ten feet down the corridor, knock back and Whisk is going further. Whisk is waiting each time for your knock." "Sounds fine Whisk." Harry said, "I just hope we don't get left behind in one of those shortcuts." "Not to worry, Harry Potter," Whisk assured him, "if Whisk is not hearing a knock after a few minutes, he is coming back a bit and knocking again. We is getting there for sure." "Thanks for this, Whisk," Hermione said, "we couldn't do it without you." And they all got to see what it looks like when a house elf blushes.
Whisk reached up on tiptoe and tickled the pear in the painting, which swung open for him to enter the kitchens. A minute later, there was a knocking in the wall where he said it would be. Harry was first down the hall, and returned the knock. A few seconds later another knock further down the hall. They continued this until they got to a stairway. The knocking seemed to go straight, but the stairway went up. They tried a few wrong turns before they found that the stairway up was followed by a stairway down and they caught up again. A few more corridors and turnings brought them to another stairway. This time the knock brought them up the stairs as well, and the way seemed clear except for a familiar slimy, smirky, nasty voice. "Well, if it isn't Harry Potter and the Potettes," said Draco Malfoy. "Lost are you? What are you doing in Slytherin country?"
"Yeah," said Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's constant companions. "What're you doing?" "None of your business, Malfoy, and no, we're not lost." Ron answered. "Weasley, being the hero are we? Is famous Harry Potter too big to speak for himself?" "Get off it, Malfoy," said Harry, in no mood to talk trash. "Mr. Malfoy, you can just clear out of here." Hermione stepped up. "We are minding our own business, and I suggest you do so, too."
Just then there was a knocking behind Malfoy. He whirled around looking for the source of the sound. A few seconds later Crabbe and Goyle looked around as well. The knocking happened again. "What's going on, Potter," Malfoy asked, looking unsure, "what are you up to?"
The knock happened again, closer this time. Malfoy started moving away from Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were feeling mixed emotions. They did not want Malfoy to discover what they were really doing, but it was a lot of fun watching him squirm. They needn't have worried. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were not going to stay around to find anything out. At that moment the biggest, ugliest, snarling head of a toothy, big-horned goat stuck out of the wall, bleated and snapped at Malfoy. Remembering his all-too-recent goat experience. He took off at high speed in the other direction, followed closely by his shadows. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on the floor helplessly howling with laughter. The goat head started looking a lot more like a house elf, who said: "That is good fun, but break is over. Please get up and get back to our work."
The search went well for the most part. At one point the knocking disappeared, and for ten minutes no one could figure out what had happened. Whisk seemed to just vanish past a certain point on a wall. One inch to the left and the knock was clear. The next inch and they couldn't even hear it. They checked the walls on each side, and even the floor above and below with no success. Just as they were about to give up and try to find another passage, one of the shifting stairways Hogwarts castle was known for arrived at that very spot. The offending wall disappeared, and cleared the way to where the knocking was now clearly audible. From there on it went quickly. The corridor they were now in looked unused for a very, very long time. Dust and cobwebs hung from the walls and ceilings, and the only light came from the last light of dusk through clouded windows. Soon they came to a spot where Whisk popped out of a narrow door. "The concert hall is being on the other side of this wall. Go twenty feet down the hall, and there is the stage door."
Hermione charged ahead and beat Harry and Ron by a couple of steps to the door. A quick wave of her wand, and the lock on the door opened and the door itself swung outward. Complete darkness greeted them. Then a torch flared into light, and another, and more. Whisk was lighting torches around the hall. The three students added their own wands to the effort. Soon there was enough light to see what they had. The place must have been beautiful, hundreds of years ago, that is. Now it was a shambles. Plaster decorations from an impossibly ornate gilt ceiling had fallen onto rows of velvet-covered seats. Paintings on walls barely moved through the encrusted dirt of ages and the stage set for an orchestra was under six inches of dust on every flat surface. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked around. The place was huge. The entire school would fit in the seats and the balconies. "But the place is a wreck," said Hermione, near to tears. "We can't fix three hundred years of neglect." "Excuse Whisk for disagreeing, Hermione Granger, but the house elves would have no trouble doing that in their spare time, and they is being happy to give this for Professor Dumbledore, who is the best headmaster Hogwarts ever had. Whisk is already arranging it." "Oh Whisk. How can we thank you?" Hermione asked. "No need, Hermione Granger. You is the ones deserving thanks from Whisk - you get him out of a trunk he is in for hundreds of years. This is, as you say, small potatoes by comparison. The concert hall is being ready for the Christmas Feast time. Whisk is looking and mostly it is a cleaning job - house elf specialty. The ceiling is a bigger job, but anything not possible by Christmas can be done with the same ceiling charm as the Great Hall. It is all going to look perfect."

Chapter 15 - Snape to the Rescue
The term continued. Harry, Hermione and Ron actually got some school work done between bouts of working on the concert plans. Hagrid got at least one animal from each section of the orchestra at Symphonium on loan, and the Transformation and Charms classes were working with many others to fill out the whole ensemble. All the students who were taking part in the concert now knew what they were doing. They were all fifth-year Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw students. They were all devoted to Professor Dumbledore and had no trouble keeping the secret, although there were probably more whispered conversations and excited and secretive students running around on mysterious errands than most years. Professor Dumbledore himself sensed that something was up, but chose to simply enjoy the extra energy around and not inquire too closely. For the Slytherins it was another matter entirely. People in the other houses often avoided Slytherins, and this year was no different. For another thing, Hermione, Ron and Harry had come up with an elaborate story that the fifth-years were going to put on a class play. It sounded plausible enough, and the Slytherins wanted nothing to do with such a lame-sounding idea. Not one Slytherin asked to join the project, and that was fine with Hermione and company. By the time there was only one week to go before the end of term, all the students involved felt things were pretty well ready. Whisk had reported the concert hall was clean and ready. All of the performers and their instruments had rehearsed alone and in sections. The Symphonium animals were outstanding at their own parts and at leading the other charmed instrument creatures. Everything was in place. Or was it?
Hermione was asleep in the girl's dormitory when there was an insistent tapping on the window next to her bed. She woke at the noise, but couldn't see anything out the window. It was cloudy and very late at night. Hermione plucked her wand from the night stand and muttered LUMOS. Shining the beam of light through the window found her looking straight into the eyes of a very surprised little spotted owl. She cautiously opened the window a bit and the owl poked his leg through the opening. It wriggled the rest of its body through, and balanced on one leg so Hermione could see the parchment roll attached to its leg. She carefully untied the parchment, and whispered to the owl "Go up to the owlery for a snack and a snooze." and shooed it out the window again before it started hooting and waking the rest of the girls. She unrolled the parchment and read the note. It was from her conducting teacher at Symphonium School. That explained the late owl delivery. They were in a different time zone altogether. The message wasŠ..well shocking. Hermione grabbed a robe and ran out the door and down the stairs to the common room pulling the robe on over her nightdress. She went directly up the stairs and into the boys dormitory where Harry and Ron slept. Ron's bed was nearer the door and she knocked on one of his bedposts to wake him up. "Ron, get up. I have to talk to you and Harry." Hermione whispered. Getting no response she knocked and whispered a little louder. "Ron I need you and Harry now!" The third time, there was some movement in the bed and a very sleepy-looking head of tousled red hair poked out of the curtains. "Hermione, it's the middle of the night. What do you want. And you're not supposed to be in the boys dormitory anyhow." "I want to talk to you and Harry. It is really important. Wake Harry and meet me in the common room. We forgot something big." "Can't this wait until morning at least? I'm tired, and we aren't supposed to be out of bed anyhow, Hermione." "No it can't wait, Ron. Get Harry and come now. I can't believe what we have done."
"He's not going to like this any better than I do, Hermione." "Stop grumbling and just do it, okay? I'll see you downstairs." Hermione disappeared out the door and down the stairs. She poked up the common room fire and pulled three chairs together in front of the fireplace. It got pretty cold in the castle at nights now, and she only had a light robe over her sleeping clothes. Harry woke up with Ron hissing in his ear. "Get up, Harry. Hermione wants to see us downstairs now. I don't know what she is on about, but she means it." "What?" Harry had been having such a nice dream. At least he thought it was nice, whatever it was. He couldn't remember right now. What was Ron saying? And why was he saying it so late at night. Was it still in the dream. "Good night, Ron." Harry drifted off again. "Harry, come on, wake up. Hermione will kill me if I can't produce you now!" "Ok, ok. I'm coming, Ron." Harry managed to bring himself to consciousness. Harry checked his wristwatch-tattoo, which glowed in the dark. "Ron, it is after three o'clock in the morning. Can't Hermione wait?" "What do you think. You know Hermione." "Yeah, I know what you mean. Give me a minute to get some clothes on," said Harry; "any idea what she wants?" "No clue."
When Ron and Harry got down to the common room they found Hermione looking really worried and pacing around the dim room, dark except for the light from the fireplace. "What's the problem, Hermione?" asked Harry. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine, but our concert is in big trouble." Hermione answered. "How can that be? You are ready; we are ready; the rehearsals have gone well and everything seems to be in place," said Harry. Ron said: "You're not getting nervous, are you? You always get picky about details when that happens. We're all only human you know." "Quiet, you two. You're not going to believe what we have forgotten," Hermione said earnestly. ŒThe Magic Flute' is an opera! "Well, of course, we knew that. Did you wake us up in the middleŠŠHarry's and Ron's jaws dropped as they suddenly realized what Hermione was saying. They just sat there stunned. Finally Ron said: "Singers, operas have lots of singers and we haven't got any of them!" "How could we have forgotten that? What can we do now? The performance is next week!" Harry said, reeling as if he had been hit. Hermione said: "I don't know what we can do, but we have to come up with something. As for how we could have forgotten it. It seems pretty strange. I have heard that music all my life. My parents have recordings and I even went to two performances of the opera." "How did you happen to think of it now?" Harry asked. "I got an owl just before I woke you up. It was from Symphonium and my teacher wanted to know who was singing the different parts in the opera. As soon as I read the letter it all came flooding into my mind." "That seems really strange." Harry said. "Do you think someone deliberatelyŠ Hey, do you hear something?"
There was a scraping noise. Ron had been looking in that direction and was now staring into a dark corner of the room - his eyes wide and scared-looking." "What is it, Ron? What did you see?" asked Harry and Hermione together, looking from Ron to the corner and back. "I thought I saw, yes, it's Snape, I mean Professor Snape."
Professor Severus Snape emerged from the darkness, impressive and menacing in his black robes in the dim light. Ron said: "How did you get in here? We didn't hear anyone and the Fat LadyŠ.." "Never mind how I got here. The Fat Lady owes me a favor. I give her weight-loss potions whenever she outgrows her picture frame. The question is, what are you three doing out of bed. You're not breaking any rules, are you?"
Snape's voice had that silky, low, nasty quality he used when he had Gryffindors just where he wanted them and was looking for just how many points he could deduct. Hermione rose to the challenge. "We are working on a special project, and we have to use our own time for it. We are having some difficulties and we needed to meet now." "Difficulties, eh? I'll bet you are having difficulties," said Snape with a strange smirk on his face. Perhaps I could help you with your difficulties." "How could you help?" Hermione asked uncertainly. "Well, would it help you to know that it was I who put a memory charm on the three of you so that you would forget about the singing in your Magic Flute performance?"
Again the three of them looked completely stunned.
"You know about the Magic Flute and everything?" "You did that?" "Are you going to stop us doing the concert?" "You can't, you just can't do it. We've worked so hard." Harry, Ron, and Hermione were talking all at once and getting more and more upset as the enormity of what was happening sunk in. Professor Snape responded with a sound that none of them had ever heard: He laughed. Not a smirky laugh or a mean laugh, but a full-throated deep, resonant laugh and - of all things - he smiled.
"Hermione, Ron, Harry - I think this concert for Professor Dumbledore is the finest thing anyone has done for the finest wizard I have ever known. Albus Dumbledore trusted me when no one else in the wizarding world would. He offered me a place as a teacher at Hogwarts, and for him to trust someone with his beloved students is the highest compliment one can be given." Snape spoke with an almost reverential softness. "There has never been a way to pay back the gift of trust and support that I have been given. And I'm not alone. There are others here who feel the same way." "So what are you saying," said Ron. "Are you going to turn us in or what?" "What I'm saying, Mr. Weasley, is that you three have found a way to give a great surprise gift to Professor Dumbledore in a way none of the teachers had thought of doing." "Then what are you doing here?" Hermione asked this, but she had a sparkle of understanding in her eyes as she said it." "Snape returned the sparkle, saying: "I want to sing in your opera. To be exact, I want the part of Monostatos, the dark and evil minion. I think I could do justice to such a role, don't you?" The penny finally dropped for Ron and Harry, and all of them looked at each other. They were relieved and amazed, and excited, and a lot of other emotions that didn't even have names. "So you were keeping us from noticing the singing parts, so we wouldn't figure something else out for them." Hermione was thinking ahead. "Who else is in on this with you?" "We have nearly everyone you need. Professor McGonagall has been practising the Queen of the Night; Rubeus Hagrid has agreed to sing Papageno, the bird-catcher; Madame Olympia Maxime of Beau Batons Academy has nearly agreed to be Papagena, his girlfriend andŠ.."
Wait a second," said Harry. "Can any of you sing?"
"That impertinent remark," said Snape, with just a hint of the old animosity between them, "would cost you a detention if this was an official school activity. However, we will leave that, for the moment. The answer to your question is that there are magical methods for helping a singer as well as an instrumental player. There is a spell related to the SONORUS spell, which amplifies the voice. It is the SERENATUS charm. With the use of this spell, almost anyone can do a creditable job of singing a part, as long as they know the words. Suffice it to say we have all been practicing as much as you have, and putting together costumes and sets as well." "Well, I'll be darned," was all Ron could say. Harry was totally speechless, and Hermione was trying to think it through. "Oh don't worry, Mr. Weasley," assured Professor Snape, "I'll still be pushing you and making sure you adhere to the rules, and I haven't turned into a Harry Potter fan, but you really have hit upon a wonderful idea here, and for the moment, we are all cooperating."
Hermione found her voice: "Professor Snape, you said nearly had Madame Maxime for the Papagena role. What do you mean nearly?" "Speak with Hagrid about it, Snape replied. "He was having some difficulty convincing her to travel, but she was attracted to the Diva aspect of the whole affair, and she too owes a debt to Albus Dumbledore." "Now get back to bed all of you. I shall tell the others that you are now aware of the situation, and we will rehearse together tomorrow."
Next morning saw the trio hurrying their way to Hagrid's cottage before breakfast. They knocked on the door and Hagrid let them in. "Hi folks, I just put on the teapot. I hear you know the whole story now. That's I big relief to me, let me tell yeh. I have enough trouble keeping what secrets don't go where, if yeh know what I mean, without keepin' somethin' from you one second more." "Hagrid," Hermione said. "Professor Snape tells us that Madame Maxime has not agreed completely yet. What's the story." "Aw you know Olymp'," Hagrid said with a smile, "she wants t' be treated real special-like, and she's holdin' out for some way t' made an entrance." "I think I know the type," Hermione said. "I met quite a few Œdivas' at Symphonium, and I just might be able to help. Harry, Ron, lets send her an owl begging her to Œshine her exalted face on us.' A quill, ink, and some parchment, Hagrid, please."
"I get it," Ron said. "We have to butter her up to the max!"
Harry laughed, "Okay, let's see what we can do."
Hermione got ready to write.
Ron started: "My dearest honored Madame Professor Olympia Maxime of Beaux Batons Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Harry added: "We here at Hogwarts were privileged to host you last year, and beg the grace of your participation in our concert. Without you it would all be for naught andŠ"
"Now just a minute here," Hagrid objected," Olymp' might be a bit full of herself, but she isn't stupid."
"You'd be surprised how much flowery language we'll tolerate, when it's compliments, Hermione smiled. She was writing furiously. "Mon Cher Madame Olympia Maxime de l'Academie Beaux BatonsŠ"
"Hey, Hermione, I didn't know you knew French," Ron said, reading over her shoulder.
"I took it as an interest course at Symphonium."
"You are some amazing student, Hermione," Ron marveled.
Of course, Hermione didn't mention that the Œinterest' was mainly a few good-looking boys in the class.
"I read in ŒHogwarts - A History', that there is a very fancy golden carriage for state occasions and visiting royalty, Hagrid. Do you think I could promise her to be picked up in that carriage? Hermione asked. "I'll suggest she could apparate to Hogsmeade and the carriage would meet her there."
"I know the one y' mean, Hermione. I'd have to beef up the springs a bit, but yes, we could use it. There's one thing, though. The carriage was built to be pulled by two unicorns, and these days they don't like to be put into service like that."
Harry said: "We're doing so much work with Transformation charms this term, we could probably turn a couple of blast-ended skrewts into unicorns for the occasion."
"Y' know, that just might work," Hagrid's eyes lighted up, "and I have a couple o' skrewts just the right size for the job."
"I was kidding, Hagrid," Harry said.
"No, really," Hagrid insisted, "It'd work."
And that is exactly what they did. Hagrid dusted off the ancient carriage, and equipped it with two transformed skrewt/unicorns. It all worked perfectly and Madame Maxime was none the wiser. Hagrid did have quite a job afterwards replacing the two front wheels of the carriage, which were burned to a crisp.
Madame Maxime wasn't feeling up to par when she arrived. Apparating was not her favorite mode of travel. She always had a stomachache after it. Apparating feels not like flying, but as if all your atoms are suddenly and irresistably attracted to the destination and you are almost instantly there. There is a momentary feeling of disorientation, as if bits of you are here and other bits there. You get over this feeling with practice. That slightly uncomfortable feeling is why apparating is discouraged for underage wizards - if you lose your resolve to go to the destination you can confuse yourself in transit and wind up floating around in pieces. Hagrid took her to his cabin and made her a nice ginger tea and she felt much better, as much from being fussed over as from the tea.

Chapter 16 - Harry's ChallengeEverything now seemed to be coming together. Hermione looked at the cast list with Professor McGonnagall. Nearly every role was covered. McGonnagall herself as the Queen of the Night Professor Flitwick was Tamino to Professor Trelawney's Pamina; Snape's Monostatos sounded deliciously evil, Three Women were sung by Madames Pomfrey, Pince, and Hooch, and so forth through the whole cast of characters in this beautiful piece of music. Everyone seemed so pleased with the opportunity to help celebrate the birthday of the old wizard that cooperation and a real family atmosphere reigned. Harry and Ron had been working with the house elves on the technical details, getting the ancient curtains and stage machinery working, and they were pleased that the teachers had done set costume and decoration work already. Ron was to be the stage manager during the show, and Harry was just about to find out he had a challenge of his own.
"Harry," Hermione said that same afternoon, "I want you to take a role in the opera. I would like you to sing Sarastro, the high priest. It's the last role we need." "Why me, Hermione?" Harry asked. Isn't everyone else a teacher? "We have some students in the chorus also," Hermione admitted. "but I want you for the role because Professor Dumbledore has such a fatherly feeling for you. He really loves you a lot, and I think it would make his day even better to see you on stage in that role." "What if I was so bad I ruined it for him?" "Harry, I know you will do a good job, but the fact is, none of us has to worry about that. Professor Dumbledore may be the greatest wizard of the age, and while he does dearly love listening to music, he really doesn't have much of an ear for it. Remember how he loved the singing of the school songs, even though they were all at once and horribly muddled up?" "I haven't practiced or anything. What would I have to do?" Harry imagined himself standing on stage clueless. "Don't worry. You've got three days to learn the words, but you're going to have magical help performing. You will be working with Professor Dumbledore's pet Phoenix Fawkes. Professor McGonnagall borrowed Fawkes on some excuse, and he is fully trained. You already have such a good connection with him. Fawkes will sit on your arm and shoulder. You can make dramatic gestures with him and everything." "He'll sit on my head, if I let him." Harry thought of the ŒNice hat' on Dumbledore's head last time he had gone to the old wizard's office. "Go ahead," Hermione urged. "Ron can handle the stage managing job himself. He already knows. You just go learn the lines."
Harry went to Professor McGonnagall's office to collect Fawkes and Sarastro's lines. When he walked into her office, Fawkes left his perch and landed on Harry's head, just as he predicted. Harry felt nervous about all this. Suddenly it was a whole new event. Right now if somebody gave him a choice of facing a dragon or a dark wizard or singing in an opera, he wouldn't know which was scarier. Harry worked it out, though. He had a little musical experience. The Dursleys had a piano, and on those rare occasions that they left Harry alone in the house, he would pick out tunes. He found a room in the castle with a piano, and spent the day with the music. Between Fawkes the Phoenix and the Serenatus charm, he managed to get through it well.
Now that the teachers had told their secret, everyone was working full time on the concert. Classes were held just to keep Professor Dumbledore guessing, but every class was involved in some aspect of the opera. Harry had worried what might happen now that the Slytherins knew, but Professor Snape, as head of Slytherin house, kept them in line, and even got some of them to help work on the stage crew.
The great day arrived. It was a big day in any case. The last day of term, and the day of the Christmas feast. The Great Hall was decorated with the usual twelve Christmas trees, and there were special guests arriving for the feast from Symphonium. The secret was still safe, as Dumbledore had been told that these were a few friends Hermione had met visiting the school to do research in their library. He believed this, or at least went along with it. The professor had learned not to inquire too closely about some unusual happenings this term, so as not to spoil things. He knew something was up, and trusted he would learn all when the time was right.
One secret was soon out, though. When the Symphonium visitors arrived, Ron, Harry, and Hermione were at lunch. Hermione perked up as the visitors came through the doors of the Great Hall, and she ran to greet them, giving one particular boy a big kiss and a long hug - a very long hug. She brought him back to the table.
"Francis, these are my best friends Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Ron, Harry, this is my friend from Symphonium, Francis Dubé. He plays both muggle and wizard bass. He also captains Symphonium's Quidditch team." "Hello Francis, good to meet you," said Ron, feeling a little strange about it, actually.
"Aha, this explains why we have a lot of exhausted owls around here this term," Harry said grinning. "Hermione has been flying them ragged with letters to Symphonium, and we thought they were all about the concert project." Now it was Hermione's turn to blush. "Okay, you guys, isn't a girl allowed a private life around here?" Ron wanted to say: ŒNo you're not' or something. He had a sudden ache in his heart. Harry, too, felt a little funny. He wondered to himself about changes and growing up and whether Hermione was growing away from them. She brought them back to the moment, though: "Most of those letters were about the concert, actually. Francis is here to watch my greatest triumph - conducting the opera tonight. Gotta think positive!" Hermione said brightly, though perhaps covering up a few pre-performance jitters.

Chapter 17 - The Magic Flute
The afternoon passed quickly, as almost everyone had last minute preparations to attend to. And there was the feast to attend. Everyone filed into the Great Hall for dinner, and the Christmas feast was as good as ever. The special excitement in the air seemed to make things a little more fun, and everybody was enjoying how the energy built up toward the time when the big secret would be uncovered. The food was excellent, but the students and teachers who were going to be performing in the opera concert couldn't eat much. There were more butterflies than Christmas cakes in those stomachs.
Finally everyone else had stuffed themselves, and the feast was over. Professor Dumbledore saw a parchment appear on his plate as it cleaned itself. He read it and then stood up and addressed the students. "I would normally be giving a welcoming address at this point, but I notice the entire faculty and some students have absented themselves. I have been given some mysterious instructions, and I think it would be well to comply with them." His blue eyes sparkled. "Follow me."
The Professor walked the length of the Great Hall, and students began to queue up and follow him. Just outside the doors, they were met by two lines of smiling house elves bearing candles. The elves were not exactly carrying the candles. They were wearing them on their clothes, which were small Christmas trees. This was unusual even by house elf fashion standards. The tree-elf line stretched all the way up the stairs and down a corridor. Dumbledore led the procession between the lines. When they came to a turning the elves were down the new corridor. The lines of Christmas tree elves seemed to go on forever. Professor Dumbledore was enjoying this little mystery in his own school, and getting quite curious about just what was going on. They were going through corridors even he did not recognize. At least they were getting to walk off some of the rich food from the feast. The elf lines continued to appear, stretching into the distance. Dumbledore didn't realize there were so many house elves at Hogwarts, though he figured the ones behind were probably running to take positions ahead. Just as everyone was beginning to tire, they turned a corner into a long, wide corridor Dumbledore was certain he had never been in before. Lighted by the house elves flickering candles, they could see tapestries lining the walls, with images of elegant masked balls with dancing gentlemen and ladies, harpsichord players and harpists and their audiences of beautifully gowned women and men wearing silk and ruffles and wigs. As with all the images at Hogwarts, the figures in the tapestries were moving. The dancers swayed, musicians hands caressed their instruments, audiences applauded. If you stood very close to the tapestries, you could hear the music. They approached the end of the corridor, with two huge intricately carved bronze doors. As they moved closer, it was clear the doors were actually musical instruments all fused together. There were french horns winding around trumpets; huge tubas with many trombones filling their bells; euphoniums, ophicliedes, sarrusophones, and serpents. Tympani held fluegelhorns, piccolos and flutes rayed out around gongs and bells. The huge doors were framed with a wooden arch made up of violins, cellos, basses, bassoons, oboes, clarinets, english horns, oboes d'amore, flutes and piccolos. All of this decoration on the doors was slowly flowing in and out of each other in a glorious harmony of movement.
Just then, the house elves began applauding as well. As Professor Dumbledore approached the doors, all of the house elves crowded around them and applauded. The doors slowly swung open, revealing a concert hall shining in gold, pink, and dark marble. Lighted by golden musical instruments bearing thousands of candles suspended in midair, and more on the pink walls. Black and white marble columns supported two balconies. More marble formed an enormous proscenium arch around the stage with a golden shield at the top. The shield bore the Hogwarts letter ŒH' behind a wand with fingerholes like a flute. A red wine-colored velvet curtain covered the stage, and the material was repeated in the upholstery on the seats. The applause continued as the old professor walked down the aisle to a seat reserved for him about halfway down toward the front of the hall. The rest of the procession of students began to fill the seats on the floor and in the first balcony. The second balcony filled with ghosts, and all sorts of spirits and apparitions that haunt Hogwarts castle. The house elves had the front section of the balcony reserved for them, at Hermione's request, and they chattered excitedly in their seats. Whisk was sitting next to Dumbledore, and other invited guests, from Symphonium, the Ministry of Magic, and some parents of performing students who had made the trip sat nearby. When everyone was in their seats, Ron Weasley, stage managing the show, waved his wand from backstage and the house candles and torches dimmed, and flaming footlights and torches on the stage brightened. Another wave and thick golden threads began to weave their way through the great curtain, The threads snaked their way around in a circle, finally forming a cake. ŒHappy Birthday Professor Dumbledore' spelled itself out as the golden threads wound around. White threads and glowing yellow threads joined in and shaped candles with flickering flames. The audience started applauding Dumbledore once again. The Professor raised his eyebrows and smiled. His secret was out. Nothing else happened for a bit. Ron peeked through a slit in the curtain and saw everyone in the hall just looking at the cake and the candles' waving flames. Another minute went by. Finally, Ron sent another golden thread to spell out, at the bottom of the curtain: Œ(Wish and Blow!)' There was laughter as everybody caught on, and then the whole audience, led by Professor Dumbledore, took a breath and blew all at once. The curtain actually moved. The threads making up the cake and candles seemed to be blown away, to be replaced by threads running across the curtain spelling out ŒMusic, Magic Beyond All' below a repeat of the magic wand/flute In the orchestra pit in front of the stage the gentle cacophony of an orchestra tuning up started. No players around yet, the instruments tuned themselves expertly. When they quieted down, students filed in and each picked up their instruments and stood in front of their chairs. Another moment and Hermione walked out, to applause, none louder than from Professor Dumbledore, who was smiling from ear to ear. She looked the part. Hair up in a swirl, long black gown, and carrying her newly polished wand. She acknowledged the audience with a bow. Turning to the orchestra, she signaled them to sit down, waited for quiet again, and gave the downbeat. The beautiful chords and melodies of the Mozart filled the hall with life it had not had for three hundred years. Everything glowed even brighter, if that was possible, and Dumbledore smiled even wider. This was the best birthday party he could imagine, and it only got better. When the overture was finished, Ron signaled the students manning the ropes to open the curtain. The set for the first act had a garden in front of a cave, and distant castle on a hilltop. It was impossible to see what was stage magic and what was real magic, but it all looked beautiful. Dumbledore then saw where his teachers had got to, as they sang their roles in the opera. The professor seemed to get a real kick out of seeing Fawkes and Harry perform, and had to bite his lip to keep from giggling at the extravagant menacing performance of Professor Snape, and the large love duet of Hagrid and Madame Maxime. It all went off without a hitch, if you don't count an owl/trombone with hiccups and a cat/violin who had kittens during intermission. Ron's stage managing got all the set changes and curtain calls just right. Professor Dumbledore was the first up to lead the audience in giving the performers a standing ovation, and everyone in the show applauded right back. The party didn't end there. Everyone wanted to explore the beautiful concert hall, and the house elves provided refreshments backstage for some very hungry performers who had missed the feast. Professor Dumbledore appeared backstage as well, and thanked everyone personally, He gave a short speech promising that music would become a part of Hogwarts life again, and that this hall would see such joyful use as often as possible. The visitors from Symphonium undertook to put on a concert series starting the very next term. It was good training for them, and would bring more musical delights to everyone at Hogwarts.
Most of the students and teachers and everyone had already gone, and the great evening was coming to an end. Professor Dumbledore rounded up Harry and Ron and Hermione for a private moment. "I can't thank you enough; all of you. Hogwarts is all about magical moments, but I don't remember any that were more magical than this. I shall treasure it always." The old wizard took his leave of them, with holiday good wishes. There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment; then Hermione said: "I know it was kind of a surprise springing Francis on you like that. All I can say is that I didn't know what to say either, and kept putting off telling you until he was here. We're still us, though. I really did miss you every day I was at Symphonium." "Thanks for saying so, Hermione," Ron said, "I don't know why I felt funny about it. Francis seems to be a great guy. We talked some Quidditch and he even likes the Chudley Cannons!" Harry didn't say much. He thought to himself about how there were a lot of challenges in this world, and not all of them come from outside.
THE END