Awakenings
Chapter 6 — A Fly in the Ointment
By Lady Alchymia
Over their morning cuppa, Remus took his time admiring Harry’s latest drawings.
"These are really exceptional, Harry," he said proudly. "So, what time did you want to go into town?"
"Erm … I’d like to be at the Leaky Cauldron by ten if that’s okay." Harry was unsure how to say he wanted his guardian to take him into town, but then conveniently disappear so he could be alone with Natalie. "I can go on my own ... you don’t need to ..."
"No, I’ll take you," Remus said, politely but firmly. "How long do you think you’ll be?"
"Oh ... see, about that," Harry said awkwardly, "I’m actually meeting someone, so several hours at least."
Remus considered that.
"A young lady?" he asked, to which Harry gave a slight nod. "So, I imagine my company is not required?" Remus noted, looking amused.
"Ah, no, actually," Harry agreed.
Remus cradled his coffee, thinking. "Okay, but promise me you’ll keep to the pub or Diagon Alley, all right?"
"Absolutely," Harry said with relief.
With no dead boyfriends hanging around, he figured he might finally stand a chance of having a decent day out with a pretty girl. Taking particular care bathing and dressing that morning, Harry settled on long olive green cargo pants, a black fitted T-shirt, and new black trainers.
"Morning, Ginny! Good morning, Ronald!" he said brightly, dumping the drawings of the girls on the kitchen table.
"You’re in a good mood this morning," Ginny observed, jumping off her stool to inspect her picture.
Remus strolled over and framed the girls’ quarter-sized portraits and mounted them on the kitchen walls.
"They are not staying up there," Harry said forbiddingly.
"You up for some practice this morning?" Ron asked Harry.
"Maybe later. I’m heading into town again."
"What — more shopping?"
"Something like that," Harry said.
"All ready to go?" Hermione said brightly, sweeping into the kitchen, her handbag swinging jauntily over her shoulder. Harry’s good mood instantly evaporated.
On the way to the train station, he drew Remus back and hissed, "I wasn’t counting on Hermione coming!"
"Well," whispered the senior Marauder sympathetically, "I suppose I could try running a little interference for you when we get into town." Harry gave him a deeply grateful look. Remus chuckled and draped an arm around Harry’s shoulders. "Ah, to be young again."
"You’re not that old, Moony," Harry said. It suddenly occurred to him he’d never heard mention of any particular lady in Remus’s life.
As they approached the Leaky Cauldron, Remus engaged Hermione in a discussion of Anti-Sticking potions.
"I thought I’d try adding some Ellery Root," he remarked.
Hermione gasped in horror. "You can’t do that! It’ll completely nullify the Essence of Murtlap!"
"Oh, I don’t know," said Remus. "Mundungus seemed to think —"
"Dung!" cut in Hermione indignantly. "You cannot be serious! Look, come down to the Apothecary with me and we’ll consult a real expert!"
"Oh well, if you think that’s best," Remus said as they entered the pub.
Hermione was still muttering her opinion of Dung’s potion-making prowess under her breath as Remus slipped Harry a wink and suggested they might catch up later. Harry beamed at his guardian.
"If we miss you, Harry," Remus added, gently pushing a still-muttering Hermione towards the rear of the pub, "meet us back here at three."
Natalie, standing amongst a pile of dustbins, was clearly under-whelmed.
"I hope the tour gets better than this," she said with a laugh.
Harry tapped the appropriate sequence of bricks. They tumbled and swirled away revealing a bustling scene of charming old-world shops.
"Diagon Alley!" Harry declared happily.
The next few hours flew by, Natalie flitting with delight from one shop to another. Harry was deeply relieved the girl was having fun, though he could barely keep up with the constant stream of questions fired at him.
"What’s down there?" Natalie asked, pointing down Knockturn Alley.
"Dark Magic stuff," Harry replied with a shrug.
"Oooh, can we look?" asked Natalie.
"Not a great idea," Harry said. "Besides, I promised my guardian I’d stick to Diagon Alley."
"He keeps pretty close tabs on you then," Natalie noted as they continued down the alley.
"Er ... yeah," admitted Harry, a bit embarrassed, "I’m not really allowed out much without a bodyguard these days."
Natalie looked curious at that, but any question she might have ventured was forgotten when she spotted the sign for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Squealing with delight, she was thoroughly enchanted by all the extravagant displays. As soon as the cowded shop emptied a little, Harry introduced her to the proprietors.
"Oh! You’re twins!" Natalie cried delightedly.
"Natalie’s come all the way from Canada to see your shop," said Harry. "I think she might like a tour through your merchandise."
George rubbed his hands together.
"It would be my very great pleasure!" Drawing the girl well-away from Harry, he began extolling the glories of portable swamps.
Bracing himself, Harry turned to Fred and said, "So, I hear we’re having a party?"
Fred’s face fell. "Who told you?"
"Oh, that doesn’t matter, does it?" said Harry. "I mean, I think it’s fantastic! I can’t thank you guys enough!"
"It was Ron, wasn’t it?" Fred demanded stonily. "I’ll kill the little bugger!"
"Fred — mate …" said Harry. "It’s okay. I mean it’s great. I’m really looking forward to it ..."
"If you’ll excuse me, Harry," said Fred sternly. "Oi! George! Ron spilled about the party! I think the Hive just got its first volunteer!"
Fred disappeared into the back room. Harry grew very worried for Ron.
"Er ... Fred?" he said, eyeing the large, angrily buzzing hive Fred carried back to the counter. "What’re you going to do?"
George answered for him. "Nothing to concern yourself with, old son."
Harry didn’t believe that for a minute. "Yeah, well, I just got rid of dark vermin from the house. I don’t need a new infestation!"
"Mind the store for a bit, will you, Harry? There’s a good lad," said Fred, strengthening his hold on the buzzing hive. Two loud cracks sounded and the boys were gone.
"What’s going on?" Natalie asked, bemused.
"I don’t even want to know," Harry said ruefully, slipping behind the counter to serve a customer.
Natalie collected a number of her own purchases then leaned over the counter to say leadingly, "Did I hear something about a party?"
"Er, yes, actually, tomorrow is my birthday," Harry said awkwardly. "My friends were trying to throw me a surprise party, but Ron let it slip the other night."
"Oh no!" Natalie cried, slapping her hands on the counter. "We’re leaving tomorrow morning. They only run International Portkeys once a week between here and Quebec. You’ll have to send me some photos!"
Just then, the twins, looking disturbingly cheerful, Apparated back into the shop. Fred’s eyes were positively dancing as he scanned Natalie’s selections.
"Excellent choices, Natalie!" he declared. "On the house I’d say, don’t you think, George?"
"The least we can do for abandoning you!" George agreed, smiling hugely at Natalie. Leading her away, he gave her a demonstration of Permanent Bubbles bath gel. In seconds, the whole shop was awash with pink bubbles.
"Okay, Fred," Harry said fatalistically, punching one away, "what do I need to know?"
"Whatever do you mean, dear boy?" Fred asked innocently, placing a now very quiet hive down on the counter.
Harry crossed his arms sternly; it had taken him and Remus forever to clear the house of pests.
"They’d better be gone by tomorrow!"
"Fear not, young Harry," Fred said soothingly, "it’s just a twenty-four hour thing."
George poked his head through a wall of bubbles.
"Erm, we didn’t actually get an accurate time on that," he reminded Fred.
Harry groaned more loudly. "I did not need this!"
"Had to be done, Harry," Fred assured him. Harry just threw up his hands, sending bubbles scattering.
Preoccupied with thoughts of Ron Weasley, it wasn’t until he heard the sound of girlish giggling that Harry remembered he was on a date.
"Natalie? You still in there somewhere?" he called out.
"This place is just amazing!" she declared happily. George beamed at her and swam an impromptu backstroke through the bubbles.
"Yeah, amazing," Harry agreed, eyeing George suspiciously. Reaching for Natalie’s hand, Harry tugged her free of the bubbles. "Come on, you’ll want to see the Owl Emporium. You can leave your stuff here. Cheers, lads!"
As Natalie and Harry and several fat bubbles escaped the shop, they almost collided with a group of girls, all of whom giggled madly on spotting Harry. Harry felt an unpleasant jolt in his stomach on seeing an awfully familiar face.
"Hello, Harry," Cho Chang said, blushing slightly as she smiled up at him. Her smile stiffened when she saw Natalie.
Harry scanned the group; there was no sign of Marietta, and Cho had accepted an invitation to his party.
"Hello, Cho," he said gamely. "How are you?"
"Well, thank you, and you?" she said reflexively.
"Good, thanks."
Harry followed Cho’s gaze and felt an unworthy buzz of pleasure for her to see him with another girl — a very pretty girl. Then he realised he was still holding Natalie’s hand and immediately dropped it, feeling oddly confused and uncomfortable all of a sudden.
"Cho, this is Natalie Ramsay; Natalie is just visiting from Canada. Natalie, this is my … erm … this is Cho Chang."
Cho offered Natalie a cool nod. Cho’s friends immediately surrounded the Canadian and peppered her with questions about French boys. An awkward silence fell between Cho and Harry.
"Been cleaning out the shops?" he said, indicating the large number of bags she was carrying.
"Does look like that," Cho admitted sheepishly. "I’m going away this weekend, so I needed some supplies."
Harry blinked at that; how could she possibly need so much stuff?
"Where are you headed?" he asked, curious as to what cover story she’d cook up.
"Oh, just a family thing; you know how it is," Cho said easily.
She smiled at Harry and Harry found a genuine smile to give back to her, relieved they were able to talk normally again.
"So I guess we won’t be seeing you at the party," he said, feigning disappointment.
"Oh, you rat!" laughed Cho. She leaned closer and pushed her hand playfully against his chest. "You’re not supposed to know about that!"
"So people keep telling me," said Harry.
He glanced down at her hand and stood a little straighter. A slightly dopey smile crept onto his face; Cho always smelled really good. Glancing over her shoulder, he saw Remus and Hermione further down the alley. Remus spotted him, too. With a wink to Harry, the man swiftly diverted Hermione into Flourish and Blotts. Grinning broadly now, Harry turned his attention back to Cho.
"I was hoping we might match up again — on the Quidditch pitch, I mean."
"That might be fun," Cho said coyly. Her fingertip took its time running down his chest a few inches before falling away. "Been a while, hasn’t it."
Harry’s brains took a moment to re-engage. "Oh, right … yes, well, I had a little case of Umbridge-itis, but I’m all better now."
"Harry?" Natalie said, breaking free of Cho’s friends. "What’s Umbridge-itis?"
Harry and the Hogwarts girls all laughed.
"Sorry, Natalie," said Harry, "Umbridge was our headmistress last year. Foul piece of work. She banned me from playing Quidditch."
"Why did she ban you, by the way?" asked Cho curiously.
Harry turned his attention back to Cho. "Ah, little altercation with the ferret."
"Malfoy?" said Cho. "Oh yes, I remember now; it was after the Gryffindor / Slytherin match. I don’t know why she banned you; you were clearly doing a public service." Cho frowned deeply. "When I think of what he and his little squad did to the DA ..."
Harry couldn’t help but remember Marietta’s key role in that whole sorry episode; he crossed his arms and looked down at his feet but said nothing. Cho seemed to come to the same point. Slipping her hand inside the crook of his elbow, she pulled him away from the others, and they leaned together against the twins’ explosive window.
"Harry," Cho said softly, drawing even closer, "I ... I want you to know you were right about Marietta. I’m really sorry about all that."
"Thank you," he said gruffly, "that means a lot."
Cho gave him a huge smile and Harry felt a familiar flutter in the region of his stomach. She’s with Corner, now, he reminded his stomach sternly.
"We were just heading up to Zelda’s for lunch," Cho said. "Would you like to join us? Ah, Natalie, too, of course ..."
Harry had forgotten all about Natalie. He shook his head to clear it.
"Natalie, right. Ah, no, but thanks anyway. She doesn’t have a lot of time to look around, so we should probably keep going."
Cho smiled and nodded to Harry, but the look she gave Natalie wasn’t anywhere near as friendly. Natalie and Harry waved goodbye to the girls and continued down Diagon Alley.
"We could’ve stopped with them, if you wanted to," Natalie said, frowning slightly.
"No," Harry said blankly. "Oh, unless you want to, of course. We can still go back ..."
"Nah," Natalie said happily. "What’s next?"
"Are you hungry?" Harry asked her.
Natalie wanted to try traditional English fast-food, so Harry chose the local chippie, Mermaids.
"But," Harry warned her, "you have to eat your fish and chips standing up and out of the newspaper or it doesn’t count."
Harry took particular delight in eating off a greasy newspaper photograph of a deeply unimpressed Cornelius Fudge. Strolling down the alley, they passed Ollivander’s wand shop just as Mr Ollivander, himself, was leaving the store, casting protection charms over his shoulder.
"Good afternoon, Mr Potter," Mr Ollivander said. His misty eyes travelled to Natalie. "Good afternoon, miss," he added politely, tipping his hat to her before hurrying away.
"Good afternoon, sir," Harry called after him and braced himself for Natalie’s reaction.
"Did he say ‘Potter’?" Natalie said curiously, looking at Harry as if for the first time.
"Ah ... yeah," Harry replied stiffly, bracing himself for the inevitable Boy-Who-Lived dramatics.
"Well, that explains the bodyguard thing," mused Natalie.
"Yeah ... I’m sorry, Natalie, I could’ve been more up front with you."
Natalie forked a hot chip and waved it from side to side to cool it. "No sweat, but I believe we have something in common."
"What’s that?"
"Our godmother," Natalie said, popping the chip into her mouth.
Stunned, Harry tried to find his voice. "We have the same godmother? Who is she?"
Natalie looked confused. "What do you mean who is she? Elizabeth Ramsay, of course. You know, my Auntie Elizabeth."
Harry just stared at the girl. A large woman with three squabbling children struggled to get past them in the Alley. Harry pulled Natalie over to Mr Ollivander’s window.
"Let’s start this again," he said. "Your godmother is Elizabeth Ramsay?"
"Yes," said Natalie.
"What makes you think she’s my godmother, too?" Harry asked, perplexed.
"Well," Natalie said uncertainly, "she told me — ages ago. You are the one with ..." She pointed vaguely to Harry’s forehead.
"Yes," Harry said, lifting his fringe for her.
"I don’t get it," Natalie said, growing upset. "My Aunt Elizabeth wouldn’t lie about something like that."
"Wait, no, no," said Harry quickly, "I’m not saying she’s lying — I’ve no idea who my godmother is; for all I know your aunt is telling the truth."
Natalie grew more confused. "How can you not know who your godmother is?"
Fair question, thought Harry, scratching his head. "I’m an orphan. I don’t know that much about my family."
"I’m so sorry," said Natalie, her big blue eyes moistening. "I didn’t realise ..."
"No — no — look, don’t be upset; I’m glad you told me." Harry was desperate not to have another date with a girl end in tears. "Here, sit down; your fish’ll get cold."
They sat down together on Ollivanders’ stoop, eating their fish and chips in silence awhile before Harry ventured a question.
"So, how did your Aunt Elizabeth know my parents?"
"She grew up here," explained Natalie. "So did my dad; we all left England ten years ago."
"So they would’ve gone to Hogwarts?"
"Yeah, Aunt Lizzie and your Mom were pretty tight, I think."
Harry nodded; it was feasible. "What house was she in at Hogwarts?"
Natalie blinked. "House? Oh, I’m not sure ... Griffin-something maybe?"
Harry whistled under his breath then laughed a little. "And they say you shouldn’t talk to strangers. You know, this is so weird; I just wrote to her in Montreal."
"Oh, she isn’t in Montreal right now," Natalie volunteered helpfully. "She’s working in Nova Scotia. Why were you writing to her?"
Harry was still stunned. He had a hundred questions, but they all boiled down to ‘where has she been all my life’, which didn’t really seem polite to ask.
"Do you see a lot of her?" he asked instead.
"Not as much as I’d like," admitted Natalie. "Her work takes her to pretty remote places, and I’m at Peace River most of the year, but we write to each other a lot. And I went up to Nova Scotia and spent the weekend with her just before I — hang on, wasn’t it your family she was trying to reach on that Muggle telephone thing? I distinctly remember her going on and on about some Dursey woman —"
"Dursley," Harry said, his insides going colder than his fish.
"Dursley! That’s right! She was really worried about all the news reports coming through about You-Know-Who. Is it true you really saw him? Did he and Albus Dumbledore really have a full on duel? That must have been amazing!"
Natalie kept firing off questions, few of which registered in Harry’s spinning brains. Aunt Petunia knew he had a godmother: a living, breathing godmother who was trying to reach him! She knew and she didn’t tell him! All those years …
"Harry? Are you okay?"
Harry shook himself back to the present. "Sorry?"
"No, I’m sorry," said Natalie contritely. "My mouth just runs off at full steam sometimes. No stopping it. You were asking about Auntie Lizzie … Would you like me to pass on a message?"
A small, triumphant smile crept onto Harry’s lips. In spite of his aunt’s deception, he now knew he had a godmother.
"When you see her next, yeah. Just say Harry said hello, maybe she could drop me a line sometime? And you might want to mention that Muggle telephones — not a great idea."
The rest of the afternoon rapidly disappeared with visits to Quality Quidditch Supplies and the Owl Emporium. Whilst Natalie cooed over a tawny owl, Harry checked his watch: it was after three o’clock.
"I’m really sorry, Natalie, but I’m going to have to get back to the pub to meet my guardian. I’ll just nip down and pick up your things from the joke shop."
"That’s okay, I can do that later," Natalie said as they strolled past dangling caged-owls and out into the sunshine. "I’d like to look around some more before I head back."
"Oh, okay then," said Harry. He didn’t know whether to shake her hand or kiss her or what. "Well, it was really a pleasure meeting you. I hope you’ll keep in touch."
"Absolutely!" Natalie said. "And I’ll be sure to pass on your message to our godmother."
"I’d really appreciate it," said Harry.
The two teenagers just stood there for a moment. Then, with a shy laugh, Natalie leaned in and kissed Harry’s cheek.
"Happy birthday for tomorrow," she whispered in his ear. Harry smiled broadly and kissed her back.
"Thank you very much. Do you know," he confided, "that’s the first birthday kiss I’ve ever had."
Farewelling the girl, Harry ran all the way back to the pub, his heart soaring. He’d done it! He’d really done it! He’d finally had a date that didn’t end in tears or tantrums! He knew he had it in him!
Remus and Hermione were waiting for him at the pub, Hermione animatedly expressing her opinion on herbs with sedative properties, Remus propping his head up in both hands and grunting every now and then. He seemed very relieved to see Harry coming towards them. Making their way down Charing Cross Road to the tube station, Hermione turned to Harry to ask if he’d had fun. She left just enough time for Harry to nod before launching into a lengthy exposition on new potion ingredients.
Remus, heavily laden with Hermione’s purchases, sidled up on Harry’s other side and growled in his ear, "You owe me ... big time!"
Harry stifled a laugh. "I’ll make you dinner. What’s your favourite?"
Remus was well-pleased with this offer and spent the rest of the journey vacillating between beef stroganoff and lamb shanks. They stopped at the Tesco on the way home for groceries, and as they neared Black House, Harry’s mind turned to thinking about Cho. Natalie, he chastised himself, Natalie — surrounded by bubbles. Then Harry remembered — the Hive!
"Ron might be in a bit of strife when we get home," Harry told Remus and Hermione. "I had to break it to the twins I knew about the party. They weren’t too thrilled."
"What have they done?" Remus asked eagerly — a little too eagerly for Harry’s liking.
"I’m not sure, but keep your wand handy — yeah?"
Opening the front door, they heard screams and rushed inside but it was only Mrs Black. The portrait’s wailing escalated on seeing the newcomers.
"BLOOD TRAITORS!" she screeched, her impossibly lifelike eyes bulging madly. Painted serpents writhed around her feet, hissing and spitting at Remus. "VILE BEAST! RAVAGING MY HOME! DESECRATING THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK! MUDBLOOD WHORE!" she screamed, jabbing a bony finger at Hermione.
"SHUT UP, YOU STUPID OLD BAT!" Harry yelled furiously.
Silence fell, startling everyone. Mrs Black gaped at Harry, fear writ large on her withered face. Her tattered drapes swished themselves shut and they heard no more from her. Remus quickly shepherded the teenagers away from the portrait and up the stairs. If Remus were a Muggle, Harry would’ve said he’d just seen a ghost.
"What did you say to her?" Hermione breathed in awe. Harry was as confused as everyone else. "You were yelling in Parseltongue," explained Hermione. "Didn’t you realise that?"
Harry shook his head, bemused but impressed. He caught Remus staring at him.
"Sorry, Harry," Remus said, shaking his head wryly. "I knew you were a Parselmouth, but knowing it and hearing it hissed at full volume are two different things."
All was quiet above. Harry was unpacking groceries when Ginny, looking deeply smug, appeared in the kitchen doorway.
"Where’s Ron?" Hermione asked at once. "Is he okay?"
Ginny just giggled and ran back out of the room. Harry dropped his onions and dashed after her, Hermione close behind. Racing upstairs, they heard a shower running. Harry thumped hard on the bathroom door, earnestly hoping Ron was getting rid of whatever it was that Fred and George left behind.
"You okay, mate?" Harry called out.
"Ron!" cried Hermione.
There was no answer. Harry looked around; Remus was leaning against the stair handrail, his arms crossed and his face lighted up with merry anticipation. Ginny was perched on the stairs, gleefully peeking through the balustrades. A loud thump followed by furious slapping sounds emanated from behind the bathroom door. Suddenly the water stopped running and all they could hear was a droning buzz.
"Ron!" Harry called out. "Mate! Are you okay?"
The bathroom door flew open. Harry and Hermione gaped. Remus burst out laughing. Ron stood before them, fully dressed and soaked to the skin, flapping his arms around his face as a swarm of fat, black and green flies attacked his head.
"Get ’em off me!" he wailed, twisting madly this way and that, arms flailing.
"Ginny?" Hermione called. "What are we dealing with?"
Ginny just giggled hysterically and retreated further up the staircase.
"Australian — blowflies!" Ron spat, coughing and spluttering. "Charmed — to — to — fink ..." Ron shut his mouth against swallowing more flies.
"Charmed to think he’s their queen!" Ginny crowed from somewhere high above them.
"They won’t — leave me — alone!" Ron yelled.
Harry and Hermione looked on in dismay as Ron continued flailing away at the air, at his face, at his ears. Remus was doubled over laughing.
"Stop laughing!" Harry demanded, screwing up his face in disgust as another fly flew into Ron’s mouth. Hermione was busy wringing her hands.
"I don’t know what spells we should use! Fred and George always booby trap their jokes to get even worse if you try to fix them!"
Regrettably, this was very true.
"Not that we have anyone willing to use their wand!" Harry growled at Remus, who was laughing so hard he was crying.
"You’re a Seeker aren’t you!" cried Ron, hitting himself in the face. "Catch the bloody things!"
Harry spent the next hour snatching blowflies from the air around Ron’s head (and trying to ignore helpful instructions from Hermione).
"OW!" Ron cried (for about the tenth time) as Harry’s fist connected with his face.
"Well, hold still, why don’t you?" Harry groaned impatiently, swiping sweat from his eyes. He finally got the flies down to just a couple that dipped and swirled out of reach. "I’m going for a bath!" he declared, looking with disgust at his filthy hands and the fly-strewn floor. "And you!" he growled, jabbing a filthy finger towards Remus. "You can clean up this mess, if it’s not too much trouble!"
Remus nodded meekly, but his eyes still looked way too happy.
"There are still two more," Hermione pointed out helpfully. "Or maybe not," she said quickly on seeing Harry’s face.
Retreating to his bedroom, Harry decided to try out his new shower. His new private bathroom featured not only dozens of charmed bath and shower settings, but also boasted moving wall mosaics depicting scenes from ancient Greece. Harry peeled off his blowfly-soiled clothes, but not before checking the mosaic inhabitants of the bathroom were at least feigning sleep. Harry had laid down the law on bathroom etiquette the first night in his new bathroom and they mostly complied. Neptune was usually on Harry’s side, and he was not above using his long trident to encourage obedience in the other mosaics.
"Hello!" piped up a cheerful voice from over the bath.
"Hi, Mirabella," said Harry, reaching over to give his pink and purple, mosaic haddock a tickle. "Eyes shut now," he reminded her.
Mirabella giggled and obediently hid under her favourite rock. Harry finished stripping off and climbed into the cylindrical shower recess. He squinted at the dial, which was positioned at face height before him: blue for pressure, red for temperature, and a gold switch to flick between Water and Air. Harry couldn’t see any plumbing outlets except for the drain hole. No taps, no showerhead. He flicked the switch to Water and slim green tubes rose out of the floor, climbing like vines up the walls of the cubicle. The vines joined above his head and formed a red shower rose. Harry chose Hot But Not Too Hot and All Over Energetic. The tubes swelled, and water suddenly erupted from holes scattered up and down the vines. Startled, but quite liking the sensation of water coming at him from every angle, Harry relaxed, rather enjoying his watery massage.
When he was finished showering, Harry flicked the gold switch to Air, and the water in the vines disappeared. He set the temperature to Warm and Fuzzy and the pressure to Zephyr. A very pleasant sensation of warm air blew softly from the holes in the vines, quickly drying the lad off. His hair was still a bit damp so he upped the pressure to Intense. Struggling to pick himself up off the floor, he hastily dialled the pressure back to Brisk on Top.
Fishy giggling sounded from high above the bath.
Ron was still twitchy that evening. In an effort to cheer him up, Harry broke out his stash of Chocolate Frogs and they camped out on Harry’s bed, eating frogs and looking for new trading cards.
"Look, here’s one for you," said Ron. "Herpo the Horrible: First known creator of the Basilisk."
"Cheers, Herpo," Harry said dryly.
He reached for a card Ron discarded: another Dumbledore. He grinned as he read the familiar biography. Professor Dumbledore still enjoyed chamber music and tenpin bowling. Harry opened another card and deftly flicked the frog into Ron’s waiting mouth.
"Oooh, Mirabella Plunkett!" said Harry. "I’ve been looking for her."
"What she do?" Ron mumbled, poking a squirming leg into his mouth.
"Fell in love with a merman against her family’s wishes and turned herself into a haddock, never to be seen again."
"Whatever rocks your boat," Ron said as he opened another packet. "Elizabeth Ramsay — never heard of her." His frog whizzed straight past Harry’s ear.
"What!" Harry grabbed the card, but the woman had already wandered out of sight. He read her bio aloud. "‘Elizabeth Ramsay: Creator of the Wolfsbane Potion. The Canadian Auror’s hobbies include swing dancing and working with miniatures.’"
"She created Lupin’s potion? Cool," Ron said, nodding approvingly, then he lunged across the mattress. "I think he's under the bed."
"Yeah," Harry said absently.
Elizabeth Ramsay wandered back into frame and smiled shyly at Harry. Blue-eyed and blonde, Harry thought she looked like an older, somewhat faded, version of her bubbly niece. So, this is my godmother, he thought, blowing out his cheeks. He wouldn’t want to admit it to anyone, but he sure could have used a godmother growing up — anyone, really. Just one person who might have let him know he wasn’t completely alone in the world, that maybe he didn’t deserve to be locked up in a cupboard all those years. Harry squinted more closely at the tiny portrait; he felt sure he’d seen her before.
"Found him!" came a muffled voice from under the bed.
Leaving Ron to liberate more frogs, Harry stood over his desk and opened his family photo album then flicked through the pages until he found the shot Remus had taken. His parents’ wedding party stood smiling and waving at him from in front of a giant yew Harry hadn’t noticed before. He held the Frog Card against the blonde bridesmaid; it was her all right. She looked so happy back then, not a care in the world. Her Frog Card showed a very different picture. Although she was smiling, there was something old and sad in her eyes, as if she didn’t laugh as often as she should — and a defeated kind of look that reminded Harry of Remus. A horrible thought crept into Harry’s mind and refused to leave. Remus had been so distraught when he saw the envelope Harry had addressed to Elizabeth … what if Remus Lupin was the reason she invented the Wolfsbane Potion? Did he bite her? Did he kill — did he eat! — someone close to her?
"You okay?" Ron called from the bed. Hunched over his desk, Harry wavered a moment then decided to keep quiet about his godmother until he had a few answers.
With one fluid movement, he turned and lunged at Ron — and caught one of the last two blowflies, but the very last remained as elusive as ever.
Ron named him Bruce.