Harry Potter and the Seer's Stones

Chapter 5

The Expected and the Not-so-expected

At that second, when Ginny had one hand over Harry's heart, right when Harry was staring at Ginny, Mrs. Weasley had entered the attic. She had dragon skin gloves on and was holding a bottle of watery yellow liquid.

"There you two are- Oh! Oh!" Mrs. Weasley stuttered. "I walked into something, didn't I? Again, right? Oh dear. I'm-"

"Mom! No, you didn't walk into anything. Ever!" Ginny exclaimed. She dropped her hand reluctantly from Harry.

"Ha-Harry, d-dear, are you alright?"

Harry had turned from crimson dangerous red to slimy green. That feeling of being sick was back, now worse than ever. He stood up quickly, muttered "Fine" for the millionth time, and walked past Mrs. Weasley. He ran down the stairs to his room. Fred and George were sitting on either end of Ron's bed, a mountain of different coloured sweets between them.

"Hey Harry! Try this. We've just made it. Bathroom Beauties! New kind of our Skiving Snackboxes," said Fred, giving Harry a deep yellow chewing gum.

"One of these and you're guaranteed to stick to a toilet for at least an hour. Diarrhea, you know," George grinned, revealing his chocolate smeared teeth.

"Not what I need right now, guys. I feel sick," Harry said, taking in deep breaths of air and pacing the room.

"Here. The curing end of the vomiting sweets. You'll be okay," George assured him. He gave Harry a large syrupy sweet.

"What happened? What got you feeling sick? OWLS? NEWTS? Breakfast? You-Know-Who? Ron and Hermione?" asked George knowingly.

"What do you know about those two?" It wasn't like Ron or Hermione to tell what happened between them and Harry.

"Nothing," said George. "We just know-"

"-you guys aren't talking to each other. It's obvious that you're fighting," finished Fred. Harry chose not to answer.

"Thanks for these," he said, gesturing at a bag of the curing candies that George had given him.

The next day was Harry's birthday and as a symbol of their friendship, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione decided to sit down together and try their last conversation again.

"Okay!" admitted Harry. "When I said what I said to you, Hermione, I was just mad. It was wrong. Forgotten?" Hermione nodded smiling. She turned to Ginny and simply said, "Okay?" The next second, the two girls were hugging each other, leaving the boys astonished.

"What? That- that was it?" asked Ron, bewildered at the sudden parade of apologies. Harry laughed and lay back on his elbows.

"Girls are strange, aren't they?" he said seriously as Ron nodded. The girls sat at a corner and started whispering to each other.

"So, Harry," Ron paused. "We're fine, right?"

"Of course," Harry said looking at Ginny and Hermione. Ginny looked furious as she whispered rapidly and waved her arms everywhere.

"Do you have any idea what they're so mad about?" asked Ron, shaking his head.

"Girls' stuff!" Harry had his suspicions but he couldn't be sure.

That night, Ginny blindfolded Harry and took his hand. She led him around the house and he followed not knowing what else to do.

"Ginny, if I hit myself on a wall or something, you're going to pay," Harry laughed.

"We're here," she whispered. A few seconds later, she untied the blindfold and handed Harry his glasses. Harry looked around curiously. He was standing at the end of the hall leading to the dining room. The door was wrapped in a red ribbon.

"Oh," he sighed as him and Ginny walked down the hall. When they were right outside the door, she stopped him.

"Hey, before you go in there," she dug in her robes and pulled out a ring box. "It's a small surprise. Not really from me; but it's a surprise." Ginny handed it to him. Harry tried to be polite.

"Oh, jewelry! Thank-"

"Oh, don't be silly. Open it," Ginny said excited. Harry opened the box. Inside, almost hidden in a small velvet cushion, shining brightly was a scarlet and gold badge. On it was the silhouette of a lion and printed in thin, slanting gold cursive were the words: Gryffindor Quidditch Team Captain.

Harry stared at the badge for a full minute before he looked up at Ginny. She was so excited that Harry began to wonder whether the badge belonged to him.

"Ginny, is-is this yours?" She rolled her eyes.

"If it was, do you think I'd let you touch it? Drool over it, more like."

"Good point," Harry smiled. Gryffindor Quidditch Team Captain. That's a title he wouldn't mind adopting. It would distract people from the usual "Boy-Who-Lived, Famous Saint Potter, the Chosen One" rubbish. The public might even rip their eyes from his scar to admire his new badge.

"Let me pin in it on-" said Ginny, stretching her hand into the box. Harry quickly slapped it away playfully.

"Don't touch," Harry smiled. "Or drool over it, more like," he added under his breath.

Behind the wrapped door was, as Harry had suspected, a birthday part awaiting him. The Weasleys and Hermione had decorated the room beautifully. There were hanging pictures from the photo album Hagrid gave Harry of him and his parents in his babyhood. A strange squeaky voice erupted from nowhere at random times saying: "Happy Birthday, Harry Potter." George had later bewitched it to say: "Harry Birthday, scary rotter." There were many people there from the Order; some he didn't even know. His presents had taken up a corner of the room and the dining table was on the other side of the room. This left very little space to move. Harry walked around and thanked everyone (and fell thrice in the process)

"This won't do," said Mrs. Weasley, as Harry tripped over someone's feet for the third time. She waved her wand three times and the room had magically expanded to fit everyone.

The night turned our perfectly. Eventually the guests left leaving Harry to carry his presents upstairs.

"Oh, Harry dear, Dumbledore sent an owl. He'd like to come and talk to you tomorrow morning," Mrs. Weasley said nonchalantly. And with that she sent everyone to bed.

"Harry! Harry! Wake up, dear." The voice sounded so far away. Harry groaned and dug his head under his pillow to black out the noise. Mrs. Weasley patted him on his back and he started to stir. He lifted the pillow, yawned widely and stared at Mrs. Weasley, waiting for an explanation. Ron was asleep and it was dark outside.

"Dumbledore's here," she smiled.

"Now?" Mrs. Weasley nodded. Harry walked down the stairs sleepily and sure enough, Albus Dumbledore was sitting on the dining room table. His white long beard and hair were falling limp but his eyes were shining. Harry sat down in front of him.

"Hello Harry," he smiled. "Happy Birthday." Harry thanked him and Dumbledore seemed to think that that was enough small talk. For he immediately started a new topic. "Harry, Sirius' will was found and read. And, well, Sirius left all his possessions to you. That means, the key to his vault in Gringotts," Dumbledore pushed a small key towards Harry, "And this house. That means that you are responsible for it but as the order has used it as headquarters for the past year, can I ask you if we can continue to do so?"

"Take it," Harry said shortly.

"Thank you. Well, that's resolved but there's still the matter of Kreacher-"

"Kreacher?"

"He's yours, yes," Dumbledore replied. Mrs. Weasley, who had just entered the room, coughed.

"Well..." Harry paused. "I don't want him." An image had shone in Harry's mind as he said it. Kreacher was pouring rat poison into Harry's butterbeer muttering and giggling.

"My mistress would be very pleased. Kreacher is proud, oh yes, proud." Harry shook his head but he couldn't rid it of the faint yelling of "Die, mud-blood-lover, die!"

Dumbledore smiled faintly and looked at Mrs. Weasley, who was now pulling out pots and pans. Harry suddenly remembered something Ron had once told him. His mother had always wanted a house-elf to help her out around the house but she couldn't afford to buy one. Besides, she could control Kreacher better than Harry.

"Mrs. Weasley? Can you do me a favour?" Harry asked.

"Of course, dear," she said, fidgeting with the pots that she didn't need for another five or so hours.

"I can't possibly take care of Kreacher at Hogwarts and you seem very busy with the house. Can you maybe take him off my hands?" Ron's mother turned around to face him, smiling.

"If you're sure that that's what you want, Harry, I'd love to."