Chapter Eight: House Unity of a Slytherin's Making
The next morning the sky seemed to reflect the end of holidays mood. Rain was falling heavily, darkening the sky and splashing off of windows. Harish changed into the Muggle clothes his godfather had gotten him. They wouldn't be changing into their robes until they were on the train.
He, Fred, and George had just reached the first-floor hall on their way down to breakfast, when Mrs. Weasley appeared at the foot of the stairs, looking strained.
"Arthur!" she shouted up the staircase. "Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!"
The three boys flattened themselves against the wall as Mr. Weasley came barging down the stairs. His face was half shaved, his tie was undone, and his robes were on backwards. When the trio entered the kitchen, they saw Mrs. Weasley sifting through the drawers anxiously.
"I've got a quill here somewhere!" she said, clutching a piece of parchment.
In the fire, talking to Mr. Weasley was Amos Diggory's head. The flames were green, signifying that he was using floo powder to talk to them through fire places. He was talking very fast, not even noticing the flames that flickered by his ears.
"…Muggle neighbors heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those what-d'you-call-'ems—please-men. Arthur, you've got to get over there—"
"Here!" Mrs. Weasley said, shoving a quill and parchment into her husband's hands.
"—it's a real stroke of luck I heard about it," Mr. Diggory said. "I had to come into the office early to send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off—if Rita Skeeter gets hold of this one, Arthur—"
"What does Mad-Eye say happened?" Mr. Weasley asked, his rumpled quill poised to take notes.
Diggory's head rolled its eyes. "Says he heard an intruder in his yard. Says he was creeping toward the house, but was ambushed by his dustbins."
"What did the dustbins do?" Mr. Weasley queried, scribbling frantically.
"Made on hell of a noise and spewed rubbish everywhere, as far as I can tell," Diggory replied. "Apparently one of them was still rocketing around when the please-men turned up—"
Mr. Weasley groaned.
"And what about the intruder?"
"Arthur, you know Mad-Eye. Someone creeping into his yard in the dead of night? There's probably just some shell-shocked cat wandering around somewhere covered in rubbish. But if the Improper Use of Magic lot get their hands on Mad-Eye, he's had it—think of his record—we've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department—what are exploding dustbins worth?"
"Might be a caution," Mr. Weasley said, still writing, his brow furrowed. "Mad-Eye didn't actually use his wand? He didn't attack anyone?"
"I'll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he could reach out of his window, but they'll have a job proving it. There aren't any casualties."
"All right, I'm off," Mr. Weasley said, wiping shaving cream off of his face, shoving the parchment into his pocket, and dashing out of the kitchen again.
Mr. Diggory's head looked around at Mrs. Weasley.
"Sorry about this, Molly," he said calmly. "Bothering you so early…but Arthur's the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and he's supposed to be starting his new job today. Why he had to choose last night…"
"Never mind that," Mrs. Weasley said. "Why don't you have a piece of toast before you go."
"Oh go on, then," Diggory replied.
Mrs. Weasley grabbed a piece and, using a pair of tongs, transferred it into Mr. Diggory's mouth. He said, "Fanks," before disappearing with a little pop.
"Mad-Eye Moody?" George asked finally, grabbing a piece of toast for himself. "Isn't he that nutter—"
"Your father thinks very highly of him," Mrs. Weasley said sternly.
"Yeah, well dad collects plugs doesn't he?" Fred asked.
Harish leaned over muttering, "Birds of a father…"
The twins grinned at him. In honesty, Harish didn't think very highly of Moody, and neither did his father. He was the reason so many of his father's followers were put behind bars. Harish just labelled him as a 'crazy old coot' and put him and the 'slightly dangerous' section with Dumbledore.
"…Moody was a great wizard in his time," Bill said.
"He's an old friend of Dumbledore's, isn't he?" Charlie asked.
"Dumbledore's not what you'd call normal either," Fred added. "I mean, I know he's supposed to be a genius and everything…"
"Professor Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of all time, I'll have you know," Mrs. Weasley admonished, even sternly still.
The conversation ended there and they all ate the rest of their toast in silence. Then Mrs. Weasley called up two Muggle taxis to take them to King's Cross Station. Harish was sure the drivers had been extremely unhappy by the time they arrived in London; Fred's trunk had exploded unexpectedly, causing a whole load of Filibuster's fireworks to go off in the backseat. The driver had yelled and swerved into a curb.
The trip was very uncomfortable, as they were all jammed in the back with their trunks on their laps. Then, once they finally got to the train station, the rain was coming down so hard that they were soaked completely. They couldn't cast any magic in front of the many Muggles there, so Harish's only condolence was that he would be changing into dry clothes soon enough.
Harish, Fred, and George had leaned on the barrier between platforms nine and ten, chatting unconcernedly before they fell through and turned to see the magnificent red engine of the Hogwarts Express. There was steam billowing from it and a good number of students were already on the train.
The three teens set off to find seats, and were soon stowing their trunks above their seats in the very back of the train. They didn't bother getting out and saying goodbye to the others. They were sixteen, after all. Not long after, Draco found them and joined them in the compartment. By the train pulled out of the station, rain battering the windows, the compartment was full of Harish, the twins, Daphne, Draco, Hermione, Ginny, Dean Thomas, and Angelina Johnson.
Harish and Daphne started talking about politics again. Draco, Dean, and Ginny were all holding a discussion about the Triwizard tournament. Fred and Hermione were talking about the older boys' plans for the joke shop. And Angelina and George were discussing Quidditch. It actually turned out that the two got along fairly well, even though they were from rival houses. The same went for Dean and the others. No one had noticed how Harish had changed the school, uniting the four houses, as it had been so gradual.
Then Harish began talking about other schools, and everyone else joined in to listen.
"You know, my father actually wanted to send me to Durmstrang," Draco said.
Harish nodded. "Mine considered it as well, so that I wouldn't have to be in the same building as Dumbledore. Then, I guess he decided he didn't want to send me so far away."
"Where is Durmstrang?" Fred asked.
"Well, no one knows, do they?" Hermione said, raising her eyebrows.
"Why not?" Dean asked.
"There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their locations so no one can steal their secrets."
"Well, Durmstrang must be somewhere cold," George said.
"Yeah, since they have furs on their uniforms," Fred added.
Harish nodded. "That is most likely."
As they traveled north the rain became even more heavier, if that was even possible. The sky was so dark and the windows so steamy that the lanterns were lit by midday. The lunch trolley came down the corridor then and Harish bought a few Cauldron Cakes to share with the twins. After a few hours, every tired of endless talk of Quidditch and previous Triwizard tournaments and they finally spent the last hour of the ride in silence, either reading or watching blurs pass outside the foggy window.
Finally, when they were nearly there the two Gryffindors left to join up with more from their house. The boys shooed the girls out of their compartment to change. Then, the girls returned wearing their own Hogwarts robes.
Finally the train came to a stop in the pitch-black Hogsmeade Station. As the doors opened, the was a rumble of thunder overhead. With their heads bent and eyes narrowed against the wind, they all walked across the platform.
The rain was coming down so heavily now that it felt as though ice-cold buckets of water were being poured out on them repeatedly. The wind was howling so loud that they could hardly hear the gamekeeper calling the first years as usual. It was so dark that they could hardly other the lantern of Hagrid's that was swinging to and fro.
A hundred horseless carriages were lined up and waiting on students to get inside. The group made their way over, splitting into two groups. The three girls went in one carriage, while the four boys went in another. Finally, the carriages left off and they were slowly making their way back to the castle. Harish shivered with anticipation as he could see a glimmer of golden, that shone out of each of Hogwarts's windows. They were finally going back.