Chapter Text
“Urgh, I hate shopping.” Ronnie groaned to all who could hear.
Heracles sighed. “Are you’ve said already.”
It was the annual pre-Hogwarts shopping trip of late August, and Ronnie hated it. Thankfully she wasn’t alone. For all that they knew it was necessary, Hamish and Ginny grumbled their agreement with Ronnie. Shopping could be dreary at the best of times, shopping for school things took the proverbial biscuit. Ronnie’s brothers, Fred and George, and Hamish’s sister, Morag, were in their fifth year, which meant they would be sitting their OWL exams at the end of the year. The trio of soon-to-be fifth years were just as morose as Ronnie. For the past few hours, they had sighed and grumbled through every shop. As a result, Ronnie and Hamish’s parents had grown weary, and tensions were beginning to flare.
“Well, if it’s all the same to you then, we shall do the shopping without you!” snapped Mum. Mr Weasley didn’t look too pleased with that, but Hamish’s parents were murmuring their agreement. “You lot can get ice creams and head back to the inn.”
Ronnie stormed off, muttering something about “mums” that Mrs Weasley thankfully failed to hear.
“Thank you, Mrs Weasley, but we can stay if it’ll be a hassle,” Heracles suggested.
“Oh, not to worry dear, I’m sure we can manage.”
And with that Mrs Weasley dragged her husband by the arm to continue.
“So, we should probable catch up with Ronnie,” said Hamish. They could see her head weaving in and out of knots of shoppers.
“I need to get Hedwig some pellets and things anyway, so I say we get ice creams after that,” Holly mentioned.
“It would be nice to have a pet this year actually,” Heracles said, more to himself than anyone else.
“You guys do whatever,” muttered Morag. “Twins an’ I have our own plans.”
“Which don’t involve us,” Hamish rolled his eyes.
“That they do not,” said Fred.
“Now hurry on,” George said, shooing them away.
“Probably getting’ things for this year’s pranks,” said Hamish as he led the way after Ronnie.
They found her sitting outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, sulking.
“Ronnie,” Holly said to get her attention. “We’re going to Eeylops, coming?”
“Urgh, fine, coming,” she grunted, getting back to her feet.
Inside the shop were piled canyons and quarries of various pet food, toys, cages, and of course, the animals themselves. Screech, Tawny, Barn, and Eagle Owls hung from the rafters; various frog species jumped about in their aquariums whilst rats scurried in their boxes. Holly entered the section grubbily marked, owls in search of supplies. She was sure some boxes should not have been there, one even laughed as she passed. On returning to the counter to pay, basket full of treats, Holly saw the shopkeeper talking to Ronnie.
“And how long have you had him?” he asked her.
“12 years I think,” she replied.
“Goodness!” the shopkeeper exclaimed. “Yes, well I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for you, perhaps you’d like to buy a new pet? I have some Chameleonic Sudanese pygmies here.” He gestured to an aquarium where miniscule rodents flashed through the rainbow.
“I dunno....” Ronnie murmured.
“Well, there is a tonic I could give you, not sure what good it might do.” He reached below the counter to place a small bottle of green liquid on it.
“I’ll take it!”
“That’ll be one sickle.”
Somewhat taken aback, Ronnie nevertheless acquiesced and pulled a sickle from her pocket.
“Thank you for your business!” he smiled.
Ronnie stood to the side to allow Holly room to place her items on the counter.
“Ah Miss Potter!” he said happily. Holly cringed at the familiarity. Though was a regular customer of owl pellets via Eeylops’s owl mail-order, she would have much preferred to be treated as an ordinary customer. “Will that be all?”
“Yeah thanks.”
“Twelve galleons and one knut if you please.”
Heracles and Hamish joined them as they left the shop, Heracles sporting a marvellous ginger wig. As it turned out, the wig leapt off his head straight for Scabbers.
“Argh!” cried Ronnie, dashing outside with the not-wig in hot pursuit.
A moment later and the not-wig sailed back into the shop from a hard kick Ronnie had perfunctorily given it.
“Merlin’s balls,” muttered the shopkeeper in exasperation. “Crookshanks! Get back here!”
After several moments of frantic chasing, the not-wig was clutched in Heracles’s arms as he paid seven sickles for the creature. Holly and Hamish plodded outside to join Ronnie.
“What was that thing?” Hamish asked.
“I don’t know,” said Holly. “Either a big hamster or a very small tiger.”
“My money’s on the tiger,” groaned Ronnie as Heracles stepped out of the shop with his newest purchase cradled in his arms.
“Personally, I think he’s quite sweet,” said Heracles in a defensive pout.
“If sweet means looking like someone took a rolling pin to his face, then yes, he’s very sweet,” said Holly sardonically.
“Yes, well looks can be deceiving.” Heracles sniffed. “Oh, Ronnie don’t give that look, it’s not his fault, it’s instinct.” Ronnie glared at him. The cat reached out a paw lazily in Ronnie’s direction.
“Not now Crookshanks, we’re getting ice cream first.”
“Crookshanks?!” Ronnie snorted.
“Yes Ronnie, he’s part kneazle I’m told, so I’d watch what you say about him.” Heracles strode off to Fortescue’s.
“What’s a kneazle?” Holly asked.
“Clever wee blighters from the Highlands,” replied Hamish. “If that thing’s been crossbred with one then he’ll be able to understand some of what we jus’ said.”
“And now Cles has just bought him,” Ronnie groaned, throwing her hands up in the air as she plodded after him.
)(
After dinner the quartet sat in the girls’ room. Holly and Ronnie lay on their beds as Heracles lounged in the armchair and Hamish and Ginny occupied the rug beside the fireplace. Hamish’s sister, Morag, had left, muttering something about having things to do. Holly flicked through her copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, hoping to attempt some of the moves detailed in its strategy section. Heracles had started reading the year’s books, as he presumably absorbed the coming year’s curriculum.
Meanwhile, Hamish had charmed a slinky to move about the room, he and Ginny followed its progress as it tried to climb up to the window.
“Won’t you get a warning for that?” Ronnie asked him from where she was reading the latest issue of Quidditch Weekly.
“No,” grinned Hamish. “There’s a wee bit too much background magic around Diagon Alley fer the Ministry to pick up one underage wizard like me.”
“Hmmph,” she grunted.
Heracles cleared his throat, his eyes remaining on the page he was reading. “That said you shouldn’t be using magic outside of school, rules are there for a reason.”
“Oh aye, for breakin’,” Hamish snickered.
Holly smiled. “It’s alright if he knows what he’s doing though?”
“That’s not the point,” Heracles stated. “The law says we can’t use magic outside school until we’re seventeen.”
"Oh, just drop it, Cles,” said Ronnie from behind her magazine. “He isn’t doing anything annoying like my brothers.”
“Whatever has gotten into you, Ronnie?” Heracles asked.
“That mogg going after Scabbers,” snapped Ronnie.
“Wonderful, now they’re arguin’,” muttered Hamish in a low voice.
“He’s a cat, Veronica. It’s in his nature,” Heracles shot back.
“Then maybe you should have put a bit of thought before buying him,” cried Ronnie.
A tense silence fell upon them, broken only by Ginny.
“I think I’m gonna go for a walk,” she said, getting to her feet.
“Yeah me too,” said Hamish.
Holly was first out of the door. Once there were far enough away that she thought Heracles and Ronnie wouldn’t be able to hear her, Holly spoke up.
“I hate it when those two go at it.”
“I know what ye mean,” said Hamish.
“They’re both sort of right though,” added Ginny. “Just hope they don’t drag this out.”
“Drag what out?” asked George.
The trio had passed into the main pub room. The twins were sat in a booth in an alcove off to the side. Fred gestured for the trio to join them.
“Ronnie and Cles are arguin’ about his new cat,” answered Hamish.
“Ah, that mangy mog,” said Fred.
“Quite the looker,” said George.
“We thought we could see a collision on the horizon,” Fred nodded knowingly.
“Hence our not being in the same room,” finished George.
“Actually, that’s a point, why aren’t you two cooking up some mischief right now?” Ginny asked.
“Because of that,” Fred pointed across the room.
Following his finger, it became apparent that the twins were watching Morag’s interaction with a boy Holly recognised from somewhere.
“Is my sister tryin’ to talk with Cedric Diggory?” asked Hamish.
“Trying,” said George.
“And thus far failing,” finished Fred.
Holly glanced over. The twins were right. Morag looked to be trying to get his attention, with little luck as the boy was deep in conversation with friends.
“Poor thing,” said Fred.
“As fellow pranksters, we take care of our own,” continued George.
“So, we agreed to act as her safety net,” Fred shook his head.
Morag had taken to boring holes into the back of Diggory’s head with her eyes.
“Bit pathetic, no?” Hamish snickered.
“Hamish, my boy, should you not be distressed at your sister’s travails?” Fred asked melodramatically.
Hamish chuckled. “It’s my sister, so no.”
Eventually, Morag threw in the towel and made her way over to them.
“Fat lot of good you two proved to be,” she grunted as she flumped down beside Ginny.
“Morag, you do wound us so,” lamented George.
“That she does, brother of mine,” Fred wiped imaginary tears from his cheeks.
“Why are you interested in Cedric Diggory?” asked Ginny innocently.
Morag groaned as she let her head fall into her arms.
“She’s got a point,” said Hamish. “Where’s ye house spirit? Ye can’t be flirtin’ with the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain, not with ye two bes’ friends in Gryfindor’s team.”
“You are not helpin’,” said Morag in a muffled voice.
“Question not the ways of love, my dear Hamish,” said Fred.
“For though we are concerned as to the object of her affections,” continued George.
“We would be fools to deny how handsome the opposition is,” Fred finished.
“Aye, I suppose he’s easy on the eye,” muttered Hamish, only to clam up when he realised the words he had spoken.
Holly was puzzled at his behaviour. She felt Hamish had a point, as she risked a few glances in Diggory’s directions. With wavy chocolate brown hair and a jawline that wouldn’t look amiss in a sculpting gallery, Holly wasn’t surprised by the butterflies in her stomach.
The conversation turned to how the twins were terrible wingmen, something they took great offence to. Holly was glad to sit out the debate, giving noncommittal noises when pressed for input. It was enough that she and Hamish could sit silently. Holly wondered what had flustered him earlier.
At last, Mr and Mrs Weasley and Mr and Mrs Williams arrived to shoo them towards their beds. Heracles had left for the boys’ room when Holly and Ginny entered.
“Actually, does anyone else want a drink?” Holly asked.
“Yeah, that’d be great.” Ronnie’s reply came from under the duvet.
“Thanks Holly,” said Ginny from her own bed.
Shaking her head, she stepped out into the corridor outside. Neon light pooled from the windows facing the Muggle side of the inn. Pulling her dressing gown around her, Holly walked softly down the corridor, occasionally pausing to listen to the rooms’ occupants. Hamish and the twins were whispering as Percy tried to enforce curfew to no effect.
On the return journey, clutching three glasses Holly passed Mr and Mrs Weasleys’ room. She was about to carry on but heard frantic whispering. She hesitated, not wishing for them to discover her.
“...makes no sense not to tell her,” Mr Weasley was saying. “I’ve told Fudge but he’s adamant she should be kept in the dark.”
“The truth would terrify her!” A second voice Holly recognised as Mrs Weasley’s said shrilly. “She’s better off not knowing. You don’t want to send her off to school with that hanging over her head.”
“This is the same girl who’s been into the Forbidden Forest twice now,” chided Mrs Williams.
“Arthur has a point, Molly,” said Mr Williams. “Better she knows the whole truth.”
“Molly, they say Sirius Black’s mad, when Fudge visited her, she kept saying “He’s at Hogwarts, he’s at Hogwarts”, but she broke out of Azkaban! And I don’t care what Fudge says, we’re no closer to catching her than inventing self-flying brooms! The only sure thing we know is that she’s after-”
“But Holly’ll be perfectly safe at Hogwarts!”
“We thought Azkaban was safe and look what happened. If she gets into Hogwarts...When You-Know-Who died Black lost everything, you can bet she wants revenge for what happened. Probably thinks killing Holly will bring him back. Not to mention the twelve years she’s had to plan this out.”
“But Albus has got Azkaban’s guards stationed at each entrance.”
“Black slipped past them before, what’s to say she won’t do it again?” Mr Williams chimed in.
“Look Arthur, I know you and Dumbledore aren’t happy about it, but surely if they’re there to catch Black?”
“I know dear, I hate to say it but right now we have to join forces with the Dementors as much as I hate it.”
Holly heard chairs move and slowly tiptoed back up the stairs before Mr and Mrs Williams opened the door.
When Holly got back, both Ronnie and Ginny were fast asleep. She placed their water next to them and slid into her own bed.
She lay staring at the ceiling for a long while, pondering what she had overheard. This Sirius Black had a grudge and wanted to kill her. That much she was certain. But Holly couldn’t help agreeing with Mrs Weasley; surely the safest place on earth was Hogwarts? Then again, Hogwarts could be dangerous if you weren’t careful. To be quite honest Holly was more bothered that any Hogsmeade trips were cancelled as far as she was concerned. Her every move was liable to be watched so any chance of sneaking out would be next to nothing.
She could look after herself. She scowled at the ceiling, which stuck its tongue out back.
“I won’t be murdered.” Holly said out loud.
“Of course, not dear,” the mirror replied sleepily.