Chapter 11 ‘Plan and an invitation’
“Hermione that’s brilliant,” Harry said as Hermione finished with her explanation, “You call Dobby, Evanna and I’ll call Kreacher.”
“And why would Dobby come if I call him?” Evanna asked.
“Oh come one! You were the only Malfoy who was nice to him.”
“Well, he’s no more a servant to the Malfoys and he’s not going to come if I call him and nor do I want to call him and show any owner ship. He’s a free elf, Harry,” Evanna finished with her explanation.
“Agreed!” Hermione said from Harry’s side with a proud look on her face.
“Oh, of course you will agree, you are the founder of S.P.E.W...” Ron started.
“Ah! What do you mean by that, Ron?”
“Oh please, enough of you both... Harry just call Kreacher,” Evanna gestured to Harry as she took out her wand and said; “Muffliato.”
“Kreacher?” Harry whispered.
Just a second later; two house-elves were rolling around on the floor in the middle of the common room, one wearing a shrunken maroon jumper and several woolly hats, the other, a filthy old rag strung over his hips like a loincloth.
“Kreacher will not insult Harry Potter in front of Dobby, no he won’t, or Dobby will shut Kreacher’s mouth for him!” cried Dobby in a high-pitched voice.
“Kreacher will say what he likes about his master, oh yes, and what a master he is, filthy friend of Mudbloods, oh, what would poor Kreacher’s mistress say —?”
Exactly what Kreacher’s mistress would have said they did not find out, for at that moment Dobby sank his knobbly little fist into Kreacher’s mouth and knocked out half of his teeth. Harry and Ron both leapt out of their sitting positions and wrenched the two elves apart, though they continued to try and kick and punch each other.
Harry said, twisting Kreacher’s wizened arm into a half nelson. “Right — I’m forbidding you to fight each other! Well, Kreacher, you’re forbidden to fight Dobby. Dobby, I know I’m not allowed to give you orders —”
“Dobby is a free house-elf and he can obey anyone he likes and Dobby will do whatever Harry Potter wants him to do!” said Dobby, tears now streaming down his shriveled little face onto his jumper.
“Okay then,” said Harry, and he and Ron both released the elves, who fell to the floor but did not continue fighting.
“Master called me?” croaked Kreacher, sinking into a bow even as he gave Harry a look that plainly wished him a painful death.
But before Harry could answer; Dobby ran into a smiling Evanna who opened her arms when she saw Dobby running towards her;
“Mistress! Dobby is so happy to see you. Dobby misses you and the kindness you showed to him when he and you were in the.. t-the m-manor,” Dobby said as Evanna pulled him away and saw tears running down his cheeks. He noisily blew his noise onto his jumper.
“I miss you too Dobby,” Evanna replied blinking her eyes rapidly to get rid of the tears.
But their lovely moment was soon destroyed as Kreacher again repeated his question, seriously irritated by the scene;
“Master called me?” he spoke.
“Yeah, I did,” said Harry, “I’ve got a job for you.”
“Kreacher will do whatever Master wants,” said Kreacher, sinking so low that his lips almost touched his gnarled toes, “because Kreacher has no choice, but Kreacher is ashamed to have such a master, yes —”
“Dobby will do it, Harry Potter!” squeaked Dobby, his tennis-ball-sized eyes still swimming in tears. “Dobby would be honored to help Harry Potter and his friends!”
“It would be good to have both of you,” said Harry. “Okay then… I want you to tail Draco Malfoy, I want to know where he’s going, who he’s meeting, and what he’s doing. I want you to follow him around the clock.”
“Yes, Harry Potter!” said Dobby at once, his great eyes shining with excitement. “And if Dobby does it wrong, Dobby will throw himself off the topmost tower, Harry Potter!”
“There won’t be any need for that,” said Harry, hastily.
“Master wants me to follow the youngest of the Malfoys?” croaked Kreacher. “Master wants me to spy upon the pureblood great-nephew of my old mistress and the brother to this blood traitor?” he asked as he gave a dirty look towards Evanna.
Harry gave him a serious look but Evanna placed a hand on his hand to tell him to focus on the main point.
“That’s the one,” said Harry, exhaling air and foreseeing a great danger and determining to prevent it immediately, “And you’re forbidden to tip him off, Kreacher, or to show him what you’re up to, or to talk to him at all, or to write him messages or… or to contact him in any way. Got it?”
Evanna thought she could see Kreacher struggling to see a loophole in the instructions Harry had just given and waited. After a moment or two, and to Evanna’s great satisfaction, Kreacher bowed deeply again and said, with bitter resentment, “Master thinks of everything, and Kreacher must obey him even though Kreacher would much rather be the servant of the Malfoy boy, oh yes…”
“That’s settled, then,” said Harry. “I’ll want regular reports, but make sure I’m not surrounded by people when you turn up. Evanna, Ron and Hermione are okay. And don’t tell anyone what you’re doing. Just stick to Malfoy like a couple of wart plasters.”
And the two house elves disappeared after Dobby had bid his goodbye and promises on spying to his best and Kreacher had thrown a few more insults towards Evanna and Hermione.
*
“Hogwarts has its own Quidditch pitch where Quidditch teams could practice, hold try-outs and play matches against each other. Each year will see a total of six inter-house matches (each house competing for the Quidditch Cup), along with numerous training sessions by each house team,” Evanna finished with her explanation.
“I know that much!” Hermione said as they walked down a steep hill.
“Well, that’s enough then,” Evanna stated.
Evanna and Hermione both reached the Quidditch ground in almost ten minutes.
Today was the day for Quidditch tryouts and Evanna was more than energized to participate in it.
Evanna moved in towards the centre of the ground as Hermione moved towards the stands.
Evanna looked around to admire the ground; there were hundreds of seats raised in stands around the pitch so the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the pitch were golden poles with hoops on the end.
Evanna looked down from the poles to see many people there for tryouts. Well, it was obvious why there was such a big crowd for tryouts. It was because of Harry’s fame as the ‘Chosen One’.
Half of Gryffindor House seemed to have turned up, from first years that were nervously clutching a selection of the dreadful old school brooms to seventh years that towered over the rest and looking coolly intimidating.
Evanna stood in the line where all the participants were standing and she merrily looked at Harry who had
decided to start with a basic test, asking all applicants for the team to divide into groups of ten and fly once around the pitch. This was a good decision: the first ten was made up of first years, and it could not have been plainer that they had hardly ever flown before. Only one boy managed to remain airborne for more than a few seconds, and he was so surprised he promptly crashed into one of the goal posts.
The second group was comprised of ten of the silliest girls Evanna had ever encountered, who, when Harry blew his whistle, merely fell about giggling and clutching one another. Romilda Vane was amongst them. When he told them to leave the pitch, they did so quite cheerfully and went to sit in the stands to heckle everyone else.
The third group had a pileup halfway around the pitch. Most of the fourth group had come without broomsticks. The fifth group was Hufflepuffs.
“If there’s anyone else here who’s not from Gryffindor,” roared Harry, who was starting to get seriously annoyed, “leave now, please!
There was a pause, then a couple of little Ravenclaws went sprinting off the pitch, snorting with laughter.
After two hours, many complaints, and several tantrums, one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and several broken teeth, Harry had found himself three Chasers: Katie Bell, returned to the team after an excellent trial; a new find called Demelza Robins, who was particularly good at dodging Bludgers; and Evanna Weasley, who had out flown all the competition and scored seventeen goals to boot.
Evanna went to the stands and waited for the time when she would have to participate when there would be time for Keeper’s trial.
Harry had also shouted himself hoarse at the many complainers and was now enduring a similar battle with the rejected Beaters.
“That’s my final decision and if you don’t get out of the way of the Keepers; I’ll hex you,” he bellowed.
Neither of Harry’s chosen Beaters had the old brilliance of Fred and George, but he was still reasonably pleased with them: Jimmy Peakes, a short but broad-chested third-year boy who had managed to raise a lump the size of an egg on the back of Harry’s head with a ferociously hit Bludger, and Ritchie Coote, who looked weedy but aimed well. They now joined Katie, Demelza, and Evanna in the stands to watch the selection of their last team member.
Evanna had deliberately wanted the stadium emptier for the trial of the Keepers so it would be less pressure on Ron. Unfortunately, however, all the rejected players and a number of people who had come down to watch after a lengthy breakfast had joined the crowd by now, so that it was larger than ever.
Evanna with Katie and Demelza went into the air on their brooms and onto their places. As each Keeper flew up to the goal hoops, the crowd roared and jeered in equal measure.
Evanna glanced over at Ron, who had always had a problem with nerves and she found Ron with a delicate shade of green.
None of the first five applicants saved more than two goals apiece. To Evanna’s great displeasure, Cormac McLaggen saved four penalties out of five. On the last one, however, he shot off in completely the wrong direction; the crowd laughed and booed and McLaggen returned to the ground grinding his teeth.
Ron looked ready to pass out as he mounted his Cleansweep Eleven.
Yet she need not have worried: Ron saved one, two, three, four, five penalties in a row. Delighted, and resisting joining in the cheers of the crowd with difficulty, Harry turned to McLaggen to tell him that, most unfortunately, Ron had beaten him, only to find McLaggen’s red face inches from his own. He stepped back hastily.
“His sister didn’t really try,” said McLaggen menacingly, “She gave him an easy save.”
“Rubbish,” said Harry coldly. “That was the one he nearly missed.”
Evanna heard Harry saying that as she landed onto the ground and couldn’t help but grin to herself and the fluttering sensation started all over in her chest.
Evanna went to stand with the selected new and some old team members of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.
Harry turned around to find his new team, all of them beaming at him.
“Well done,” he croaked. “You flew really well —“
“You did brilliantly, Ron!” Hermione was running towards them from the stands. Ron looked extremely pleased with himself and even taller than usual as he grinned at the team and at Hermione.
*
When they were about to enter the Great Hall for dinner after the tryouts, Harry and Evanna confronted Hermione just as they had discussed in the Quidditch ground. Ron strode off into the Hall but Evanna caught Hermione’s arm and held her back.
“What?” said Hermione defensively.
“If you ask me,” she started quietly, “McLaggen looks like he was Confunded this morning. And he was standing right in front of where you were sitting.”
Hermione blushed.
“Oh, all right then, I did it,” she whispered. “But you should have heard the way he was talking about you three! Anyway, he’s got a nasty temper, you saw how he reacted when he didn’t get in — you wouldn’t have wanted someone like that on the team.”
“No,” said Harry. “No, I suppose that’s true. But wasn’t that dishonest, Hermione? I mean, you’re a prefect, aren’t you?”
“Oh, be quiet,” she snapped, as Harry and Evanna smirked at each other.
“What are you three doing?” demanded Ron, reappearing in the doorway to the Great Hall and looking suspicious.
“Nothing,” all three of them said together, and they hurried after Ron.
Just as they were about to reach their seats; impatient to eat the yummy food lying on the Gryffindor table; Professor Slughorn appeared in front of them and blocked their path, taking out three envelopes from his large pocket and giving one to Evanna, one to Harry and the last one to Hermione and he went away giving them a big smile.
“Humph,” Ron said and hurried towards an empty place at the bench and the other three followed him and seated themselves.
“What are these?” Harry asked as he observed the envelope from top to bottom.
“These are known as letter’s Harry. L.E.T.T.E.R” Evanna spelled as she waved her letter in front of him with a smirk.
Harry gave her a look through his narrowed eyes but at last couldn’t hold his grin.
Evanna opened her letter and admired the elegant writing. This was written;
Evanna,
I would be delighted if you would join me as a member of the ‘Slug Club’ for the rest of the year.
Sincerely,
Professor H. E. F. Slughorn
“Give me that,” Ron grabbed away Evanna’s letter from his free hand which was not busy holding a piece of roast while Harry and Hermione started reading theirs.
Ron was pretty pissed off that he didn’t get an invitation to ‘Slug Club’ even though he never mentioned but still it was pretty obvious from his expressions and his body language.
“What the hell is the ‘Slug Club?” Harry asked with confused expressions on his face.
“I don’t know.... there’s nothing more written,” Hermione answered looking again at the letter and also at the back of the paper.
“I’ll tell you what it is. Its rubbish,” Ron said continuing with his chicken and throwing away Evanna’s letter which she grabbed at the nick of time because she had noticed that Slughorn was noticing them.
The letters were soon forgotten as their hunger got the best of them. All four of them were helping themselves with the lavishly looking lunch in front of them when suddenly mail started coming as the ceiling got hidden behind the large number of owls coming inside and finding their owners.
The post owls arrived, swooping down through rain-flecked windows, scattering everyone with droplets of water. Most people were receiving more post than usual; anxious parents were keen to hear from their children and to reassure them, in turn, that all was well at home.
“Why didn’t the mail come in the morning? This is strange,” Hermione said, her voice concerned.
Evanna looked towards Harry to get an answer to Hermione’s question but only found him looking very surprised himself and he got even more surprised to see snowy white Hedwig circling amongst all the brown and gray owls. She landed in front of him carrying a large, square package. A moment later, an identical package landed in front of Ron, crushing beneath it his minuscule and exhausted owl, Pigwidgeon.
“Ha!” said Harry, unwrapping the parcel to reveal a new copy of
Advanced Potion-Making, fresh from Flourish and Blotts.
Oh good,” said Hermione, delighted. “Now you can give that graffitied copy back.”
Are you mad?” said Harry. “I’m keeping it! Look, I’ve thought it out —”
He pulled the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and tapped the cover with his wand, muttering, “Diffindo!” The cover fell off. He did the same thing with the brand-new book (Hermione looked scandalized). He then swapped the covers, tapped each, and said, “Reparo!”
There sat the Prince’s copy, disguised as a new book, and there sat the fresh copy from Flourish and Blotts, looking thoroughly secondhand.
“I’ll give Slughorn back the new one, he can’t complain, it cost nine Galleons.”
Hermione pressed her lips together, looking angry and disapproving......
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