J K Rowling - [Harry Potter 0X]

by Harry Potter

  Hermione slammed the door and cast several Silencing Charms on it, finally blocking out the wretched old witch’s cries of passion.

  “Why didn’t you just do that before?” asked Ron as Hermione put the finishing touches on her charms. “Why did we go up there and try to quiet her when we could’ve just Silenced the door?”

  “I didn’t see you offer to do it!” Hermione shot back.

  “I’m not the brains of-” countered Ron.

  “That’s obvious-”

  “Stop it!” shouted Harry. He knew that Hermione and Ron were a little on edge because of Mrs. Black’s antics and that they were just venting their frustrations on each other, but they had a mission. “Let’s do this.” Harry finished by pulling Gryffindor’s sword out of his robes.

  At first, it seemed that Harry had lost control and was slashing the sword about madly. It swung in Harry’s hands this way and that; it was if the sword had a will of its own.

  “Watch where you swing that thing,” Ron warned as he dodged behind the kitchen table.

  After a brief moment of panic, Harry remembered that Gryffindor had told him that the sword would act like a divining rod when it was near one of the Horcuxes. “Don’t worry,” announced Harry. “It’s just searching for the Horcrux.”

  Just as Harry finished his statement, the sword stopped swinging and pointed at the cupboard. Hermione stepped in front of Harry and opened the door. There, on the floor on top of a pile of rags, sat the golden cup of Hufflepuff.

  “What do we do now?” Ron asked after the left the protection of the table and stood next to Harry.

  “We destroy it,” answered Hermione as she too took her place next to Harry as well.

  “Yeah, but how?” Ron wondered.

  Harry was baffled. Gryffindor told him that the sword was supposed to be used to destroy the Horcruxes, but he didn’t say how to do it.

  “Maybe it’s like a wand,” offered Hermione. “Try a Blasting Hex using the sword as a wand.”

  Willing to try anything at that moment, Harry pointed the sword at the cup and incanted; “Reducto!” and squinted his eyes. Harry was prepared for just about anything to happen. But nothing happened all. No destruction of the cup; no blasting hex; the sword didn’t even twitch or move in the slightest.

  The cup sat unmoved and unscathed on top of the pile of rags, oblivious to Harry’s actions.

  “It didn’t work,” Hermione stated aloud.

  “Of course that didn’t work,” a gruff voice sounded from behind them. Harry groaned as he recognized the voice of the ghost of Gryffindor. “It’s not a wand. It’s a sword for Merlin’s sake.”

  “He followed us?” Ron asked when the trio turned to face the perverted specter. “How’d he get here so quick?”

  “I used the floo,” answered Gryffindor.

  “But ghosts can’t do that,” Ron said frantically. “It’s impossible!”

  “You’ll find that this ghost can do a number of things other ghost can’t do. Unfortunately,” Hermione informed. And as if to prove Hermione’s point, Gryffindor tweaked Ron’s nipple.

  Harry ignored Ron’s yelp and demanded; “Well then, how the bloody hell do I use it?”

  “It’s a sword,” Gryffindor said in a perturbed manner. “Its got a point: you stab with that end,” the ghost continued, speaking in a slow cadence to underscore his sarcasm. “It also has a cutting edge along the length of the blade: you can cut things that way.”

  “Oh,” Harry, Hermione, and Ron all muttered at the same time. Of course, Ron had his hands pressed firmly over his nipples in order to protect them from the nasty ghost.

  “‘Oh’ they say,” Gryffindor mocked. “Don’t they teach common sense at that school anymore? Thinking that a sword is more than a sword. Why would I create a sword if I was going to use magic through it? That’s what a wand is for.”

  Harry tuned Gryffindor’s insults out and concentrated on the golden cup. His heart was beating like a drum as he held the blade hung over the Horcrux. ‘What will happen?’ Harry wondered to himself. ‘Will it explode in fire and sparks? Will thick black smoke billow out of it?’ Resolving himself to find out, Harry shut his eyes and let the sword fall toward the Hufflepuff relic. The edge of the blade tapped the cup gently and it broke apart with a barely audible “clink.”

  That was it.

  There was no explosion, no fire, no smoke, nor any bright lights; nothing. The Horcrux just laid there on the pile of rags, cut cleanly in two. Harry stared at it dumbly, waiting for something spectacular to happen, to confirm in a way that it had worked and more importantly that the fragment of Voldemort’s soul was destroyed. But nothing happen.

  “Well, that’s a bit anti-climatic,” Ron stated, ending the silence, “isn’t it?”

  “Shouldn’t there have been an explosion or something?” asked Hermione.

  “That’s what I was thinking,” answered Harry while still looking at the broken Horcrux, expecting it to do something... anything really.

  Then it happened. At first it was a quiet sound, something that Harry had to strain his ears to hear, but slowly it grew. It was a scream full of agony and misery. It was pitiful to hear and Harry turned away from the horrible thing that was emanating the sound. Only to find that the scream wasn’t coming from the ruined Horcrux, but rather from the ghost of Godric Gryffindor. Apparently, the list of annoying talents the ghost possessed included the ability to throw his voice.

  Even though the ghost was screaming pitifully, Harry could tell that Gryffindor was on the edge of a fit of laughter.

  “Would you please stop that?” asked Harry mirthlessly.

  Gryffindor abruptly stopped screaming and started laughing. Silvery tears of joy streamed down his face as Hermione spun around with a stunned look on her face. “That was you?” Hermione asked, scandalized. “We thought it was coming from the Horcrux!”

  “Why would an inanimate object scream?” Gryffindor asked in-between peals of laughter.

  “Because... Because it’s a Horcrux!” Harry answered passionately.

  “Big deal,” retorted Gryffindor. “What were you expecting? Something like the fragment of Voldemort’s soul taking shape and begin to jump around? Or even a flash of lightning?

  “Well... yes,” Harry replied sullenly. He had in fact, expected something along those lines to happen.

  “Why think small?” Gryffindor taunted. “Why not have the walls come tumbling down around you?

  “Merlin’s goolies, boy. Even if Voldemort had put a curse or hex to protect his soul fragment, my sword would’ve protected you from it,” informed the ghost. “Remember, I told you that already.”

  “That’s no excuse to make fun of us,” Ron stated.

  “Yes, it is!” Gryffindor replied, before another bout of laughter hit him.

  Harry shook his head and signaled for Hermione and Ron to follow. As the trio made their way to the kitchen fire-place, Gryffindor asked, “Wait a tick, where are you lot going?”

  “Back to Hogwarts,” answered Harry.

  “All right, let me tag along,” Gryffindor said and fell in line behind Ron.

  Harry and Hermione sighed while Ron gulped. None of them wanted the perverted ghost to follow them; they had had enough of his antics for a while. Then Harry got an idea; one that would hopefully entertain Gryffindor for a while and leave them alone.

  “Oi, Gryffindor, there’s a magical painting of an bird out there,” Harry started.

  “So? There’s plenty of those paintings back home,” Gryffindor replied, dismissing Harry’s statement.

  “This one’s different. She’s randy,” Harry said.

  “Really!” Gryffindor said gleefully, reversing his stance on returning to Hogwarts. “Where’s this lovely lass?”

  Harry pointed to the door and the ghost - somehow - threw the door open and scurried out. As Hermione disappeared in the fireplace; Harry could hear Gryffindor greet Mrs. Black. “Well, hello there, luv. NICE TATTOO!”<
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  “Who are you?” Mrs. Black screeched. Ron practically jumped into the green flames and couldn’t say “Hogwarts” fast enough. “Where’s my beautiful half-blood, my prince of princes, Harry?”

  “Oh, he’s a bit busy, poppet,” Gryffindor said silkily. “But he told me to entertain you for a bit.”

  “Really?” Mrs. Black asked and Harry stepped into the flames and grabbed a pinch of floo powder. “Well I guess that’s fine then.”

  “Hogwarts; Headmistress’ office!” announced Harry. But before he left Grimmauld Place, he heard Mrs. Black moan lustily and Gryffindor exclaim, “WOW! I’ve never seen anyone do that with their own fist before!” Chapter Twelve Summary: Harry receives some letters. And Ron goes on a date. Taking his recent luck with witches into consideration, what will go horribly wrong with the date?

  The day after the trio destroyed the Horcrux-cup, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were sitting in the empty Great Hall eating breakfast and discussing the possible locations of the other relics.

  “One down and four to go, including Voldemort,” Hermione said while checking off “Hufflepuff’s cup” from the list she had laid out next to her morning meal.

  “Which one do we go after next?” asked Ron with his mouth full of kippers.

  “If any,” Harry began after swallowing his food, “we should find the locket. That one shouldn’t have any sort of traps around it. The other Horcruxes will most likely have a bunch of wards and traps around them; if the fake locket’s placement was any indicator. And the last one is Voldemort himself; we have to save him for last.”

  “Well, it should be easy enough to retrieve the locket,” stated Hermione. “All we have to do is get Borgin to tell us to whom he sold it, and then simply convince the new owner to give it to us.”

  “Oh, yeah; real easy,” Ron said snidely. “I can see Borgin just giving us that information.”

  “We’ll just have to come up with a plan, won’t we?” Hermione replied.

  “Let’s hope you come up with a better idea than ‘Hi I’m Draco’s girlfriend; could you tell me what he was talking to you about?’” Harry said sarcastically causing Hermione to blush at the memory.

  “That one wasn’t one of your better plans,” Ron added.

  “I... I was pressed for time,” Hermione weakly defended.

  “‘Pressed for time’?” Harry prodded. “This coming from the witch who formulated a very complex plan to trap an unregistered aninamagus reporter and blackmailed her into not writing for a year unless it was beneficial to us.”

  “And let’s not forget,” Ron added, “that you were able to tell a lie, and a fairly convincing one at that, to explain why Harry and me were in the girls’ bathroom fighting that troll right there on the spot.”

  “Let’s talk about the unknown Horcrux or the missing one, shall we?” Hermione said rapidly, obviously hoping to change subjects from her unusual behavior and actions from the previous year.

  “Fine then, spoil our fun,” kidded Ron.

  “The Horcrux were able to find but couldn’t identify is under the orphanage where Riddle grew up,” explained Hermione. “We weren’t able to see what it was since it was covered. Whatever it is, it’s most likely another relic, probably either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor.”

  “What does it matter?” asked Ron. “We know where it is; why should we care which founder it belonged to. Let’s just go, get it, and cut it up.”

  “Good point,” agreed Hermione. “Let’s move onto the missing Horcrux-”

  “It’s me,” interrupted Harry. During Hermione and Ron’s short conversation regarding the orphanage-Horcrux, Harry’s blood had run cold.

  “It’s you?” asked Ron.

  “Yeah. When we did the ritual, the first thing I saw was my body lying on the bed,” Harry explained sadly. “That means I must be the missing Horcrux.”

  Ron dropped his head as Harry’s words sunk in. However, Hermione was smiling brightly, as if her boyfriend hadn’t just implied that he would need to sacrifice himself to kill Voldemort.

  “And how did Voldemort make you a Horcrux?” Hermione asked calmly.

  “It was probably an accident when he killed my mum,” snapped Harry. He didn’t like that his girlfriend was taking this revelation so lightly.

  “So when Voldemort killed your mother, he accidentally removed a fragment of his own soul and placed it into you,” Hermione repeated. “All it takes to make a Horcrux is to kill someone?”

  “I dunno,” Harry responded with bitterness.

  “So you’re saying that Voldemort has only killed six people in his life,” continued Hermione.

  “What? Are you crazy?” hollered Ron. “He’s killed loads of people!”

  “Yeah, Dumbledore even said that he killed enough people to make an army of Infiri,” added Harry. He was a bit perplexed by Hermione’s statement; how could she think that Voldemort, the most feared Dark Wizard of their time only killed six people?

  “But you said that he accidentally made you a Horcrux when he killed Lily,” explained Hermione. “If making a Horcrux was as simple as killing someone, he’d have a lot more than just seven Horcruxes if we including his own body.”

  “What do you mean?” a very confused Harry asked.

  “I don’t know how a Horcrux is created, but there must be a very complex spell or ritual needed,” explained Hermione. “Think of it; if creating a Horcrux was as simple as using a Killing Curse, Voldemort would have divided up his soul hundreds of times. If it was that easy, every single Death Eater would have dozens of Horcruxes themselves. No, there has to be some sort of complex ritual associated with it. Otherwise, every single Dark Wizard in history would have had scores of Horcruxes, wouldn’t they?”

  “But that doesn’t explain why our spirits were just floating over our bodies when we did that ‘locate missing items’ ritual,” Harry argued.

  “Harry, when we were just floating up there, what exactly were you focused on?” asked Hermione. “Was it the Horcruxes?”

  Harry paused and tried to remember what he was thinking of when he and Hermione’s spirits had been hovering in mid-air. After a second of silence, Hermione crossed her arms across her chest. However, she didn’t cross them in her usual manner. Normally, when she crossed her arms, Hermione would place them around the middle of her chest. But this time, she placed her arms across the lower part of her chest, causing her arms to push up her wondrous mounds. Harry immediately lost his train of thought and simply stared at her boobs with his mouth open.

  They were such lovely things, all round, soft, and warm. They also had ‘Carmella’ and ‘Natasha’ on them which Harry so enjoy playing with. His mouth began to water at just the thought of fondling her breasts and caressing them while he placed gentle kisses on her flesh.

  “You were focused on her tits?” Ron asked, noticing Harry’s stare. Apparently, Harry had become so mesmerized by Hermione’s boobs, and Hermione had enjoyed teasing Harry so much, that a good amount of time had passed since Hermione had posed her question.

  Harry shot up - he had hunched over the table in an attempt to get closer to Hermione’s boobs- and Hermione dropped her arms. Both of them were blushing madly. Ron chuckled at his friends’ embarrassment and picked up another kipper.

  “Ahem, anyway...” Hermione continued as if she hadn’t just partially fondled her own breasts to arouse her boyfriend in front of her platonic friend. “You weren’t focused on the Horcruxes at the time, so we were just in a sort of holding pattern, if you will. Once we both concentrated on the actual items, we started the search.”

  “But that still doesn’t make sense,” added Harry. “We only found four of them.”

  Hermione worried her lip and thought for a moment before stating; “Maybe we’ll have to do the ritual again and check our findin-”

  “OKAY!” Harry shouted gleefully. Any opportunity to frolic with Hermione was good enough for Harry. He shot out of his chair and offered, “How about now? Let’s do
it now!”

  With a look, Hermione indicated Ron, who was looking at the couple as if they were very strange and that he didn’t really understand them. The thought of Hermione’s delicate hands wrapped around ‘Harry, Jr.’ enticed Harry so much that he had forgotten about Ron. With a shrug of her shoulders, Hermione told Harry that she couldn’t do the ritual and give him a hand-job (which was significantly more important than the ritual in Harry’s mind) if Ron was around. In a split second, Harry came up with an ingenious plan that couldn’t fail. He would definitely get that hand-job now!

  “Do you want to fly my Firebolt?” Harry asked Ron much like someone would ask a dog if they wanted a bone. The Ron/dog analogy was further strengthened when Ron sat up in his chair with his tongue practically hanging out of his mouth in anticipation. “Do you?” repeated Harry. “Do you?”

  In response, Ron nodded his head rapidly and passionately. Harry figured if his friend had a tail, it would’ve been wagging back and forth right then.

  “Then, go get it!” Harry said and pointed in the general direction of the Gryffindor Tower and his Firebolt.

  Ron sprinted out of his chair and ran full tilt out of the Great Hall. The gangly teenager fell twice, tripping on his large feet before he made it successfully out of the Hall.

  “Well, I guess we can do the ritual now,” Hermione said with a bemused smile and a glow to her cheeks.

  “What ritual?” asked Harry. He had gotten rid of Ron so that Hermione could play with - “Oh, yeah, right, the ritual,” finished Harry as he finally remembered that there was a ritual that required Hermione to give him a hand-job.