Missed the previous installment? Here it is.
Looks like the love polygon is ramping up early, so we better tuck in to a fortifying meal to keep up our strength. I can’t think of anything better than a Quidditch Player’s Pie, MuggleNet’s twist on shepherd’s pie.
The shepherd’s pies I’ve had have always been a combination of potatoes, ground beef, and corn or peas. Simple fare, but it’s delicious and filling. The Quidditch Player’s Pie is a mini smorgasbord of ground beef, dry onion soup mix, potatoes, cheddar cheese, and (optional) peas and carrots.
It’s strangely satisfying to make the gravy: Mix the flour and milk with the water and onion soup mix, then watch the spicy liquid thicken. Not to mention the onion soup mix’s combination of parsley, onion, celery seed (eugh), and… *Googles* … paprika and black pepper… creates a rather inviting scent that brings backs memories of homey meals on cold nights. There’s also nothing quite like watching cheese melt over the potatoes, turning elastic, adopting a sheen when the kitchen lights hit it just right. It’s the kind of dish that gives the stomach a tight hug.
Am I romanticizing a pile of potatoes, meat, and vegetables? Why not? It’s a rather involved comfort food, but worth it.
And we’re doing to need a lot of comfort as we dive into the next chapter.
Chapter 2: Ink, Blood & Brotherhood
Harry reels from the letter. Draco, ever the unhelpful sort, suggests that Harry is reading the letter wrong. The speccy git hands it over without so much as a comment.
DRACO: Maybe she’s written in code? Maybe you’re supposed to read every other word? Let’s see, ‘I Viktor afternoon…’ No, that doesn’t work.
Harry glumly snarks that there’s “not a lot of room for interpretation.” Draco is in total disbelief. If Hermione were going to leave Harry for anyone, it should have been him. Don’t worry. We’re on page twenty-seven of a 826 page document. We have plenty of time for that to happen.
Wallowing in numbness and self-pity, Harry suggests that they head to class. Draco can’t make heads or tails of this sudden occurrence in Harry’s mood.
It’s almost like people who receive bad news take it poorly. What a wonder.
There isn’t a superscript number anywhere in that paragraph, but I have the gut suspicion that it’s still lifted or heavily paraphrased from somewhere. And here’s a *clink* donation for good measure.
DRACO: Why are you crouching by my elbow?
Before Draco can explain what’s eating Harry, they spot Professor Lupin entering the classroom.
*clink, clink*
In class, Draco sits where he can keep an eye on Harry. Just as the news of Hermione leaving hit Harry all at once, it pelts Draco like small hail stones. None of it makes sense.
“Nobody knew Hermione like [Harry/Draco] did, watched her like [Harry/Draco] did…” Who’s the admirer/observer/stalker here? I hate confusing sentences.
Whose world, Draco’s or Harry’s? Either way, that’s a pretty flimsy foundation if they rely on a single person to keep it intact. But in these unhealthy love stories, dependency and obsession are often similes for love and romance.
Back at the lesson, Lupin introduces the class to Fundamentals of Magical Transformation for Magids.
LUPIN: Quite possibly evil potential, but we’ll assume none of you have that capacity until one of you starts another wizard war.
As Lupin writes “telepathic magic” on the board, Draco turns a concerned eye toward Harry. Harry stares at his quill, deaf and numb to the world.
Tempting fate, Draco leans in to Harry and begins talking about “this Hermoine thing” when—
*bang!*
The ink well on Harry’s desk explodes, sending shards of glass and ink all over the place. Draco feels his face and his fingers bring back ink and blood, giving us two-thirds of a chapter title drop. The glass globe on Lupin’s desk explodes, and the rest of the class drops to the floor like a nuclear explosion drill. If he were smart, Lupin would take advantage of this real-time lesson in telepathic magic.
Draco seizes Harry and drags him out into the hallway. Seeing his future stepbrother in distress, Draco offers some helpful words.
Harry’s magical emotions wreak more havoc on their surroundings. A stained glass window shatters, another window cracks. Seeing the desperation of the situation, Draco resorts to action.
A broken rib punctures Harry’s lung, and without a potion, he dies a slow, gurgling, painful death.
*sigh* Of course not. But it does get Harry to tap into some teen boy rage. A tussle begins, and the rest of the class emerges to get ringside seats. Fleur is horrified.
FLEUR: ‘is face is the source of my fantasies! Please spare ‘is ‘andsome face, ‘arry, I ‘umbly implore you!
Lupin booms at the boys, the anger in his voice more potent than a Petrificus Totalus. He marches them to his office and makes them stay there until he returns from class.
The short brawl has Draco in high spirits. Not only did he save the class from a shower of pretty rainbow glass, he got to kick Harry in the ribs. They’re going to have the most functional solutions to family disputes.
Harry tries to apologize, but Draco waves it off. “I don’t ever apologize, why should you?” he claims.
I dunno, let’s look back at Book One:
He has the nerve to claim that he doesn’t faint either, just like he didn’t pass out near the Bottomless Pit on his family estate. You’re an awful liar and an even worse comedian, Draco. But this is all a roundabout way for Draco to add that he also doesn’t believe that Hermione is in love with Viktor.
He gets distracted by “a large and rather musty-looking book” on Lupin’s desk. Conveniently opened to the page our protagonists should read, the page shows illustrations of a gauntlet, a skill, and a sword with a bejeweled hilt.
What Draco and Harry are about to read is “The Living Blade” section from Daemonic Artifacts: A User’s Guide. Funny how this ancient, leather-bound book with “yellowed and powdery” pages that could crumble at the slightest mishandling has the suspiciously modern subtitle of A User’s Guide.
Underneath the titles, there’s some important text:
Here’s a *clink* for an obviously lifted passage.
This concerning information has no effect on Draco, who still suspects Lupin of wanting to destroy his sword. Cripes, the damn thing could pull a Portrait of Dorian Grey to age the user and the dumb lizard would still want to keep it.
That Draco, so wacky and edgy. It really hurts me to think about fans giggling over this. *clink*
Apparently, classes last only a few minutes in this school, because Lupin has returned. He reprimands the boys for fighting, but when Draco blurts out that Hermione was kind of to blame, the professor changes his tune. He laments that Magid powers would have to be tied into emotions and kick in around adolescence, the very time when one would have the least control over their emotions. But that’s neither here nor there.
He suggests to Harry that he have a chat with Sirius. That’s not a bad idea. Sirius had his own heartbreak and came out stronger from it. Seeking advice from an experienced male would certainly help—
Or keep shit to yourself, let it fester as always, and wait until denouement for a final resolution.
*cli—* Okay, that was pretty funny. I take this one back.
So Draco explains to Lupin what happened.
*clink, clink, clink* Sure, because the average middle schooler and high schooler are up on Greek dramas. I didn’t even know about Greek chorus until I took college literary and theater courses. Moreover, a Greek chorus is a group—not an individual—commenting in unison.
Why am I getting all pissy here? Because there’s using information you learned to add something worthwhile to a story, and then there’s using information you learned just to make yourself look brainy.
Anyway, Draco summarizes how Vik-my-own-ninny heading off for a romantic summer in Bulgaria. Lupin is bewildered. He says there’s no way the pair ran off to Bulgaria.
“[A]gain Switzerland…” I’d pick out every misspelling or missing word, but it already feels like I’m putting in overtime by pointing out all the other stuff in this story.
Back at the Burrow, Ron and Ginny are pleading with their older brother, Percy, via fireplace. Percy refuses to give out Viktor’s Bulgarian address. “Do you know what kind of trouble I could get into with the Department of Magical Games and Sports?”
PERCY: They have terribly mean throwing arms. They could lob a shot put half a continent away!
Ron tries reasoning with Percy. There was no way Hermione would up and leave with Viktor. In fact, Ron suspects that she may have been under the influence of a love potion. Percy states that the use of love potions is illegal, and somebody rich and famous like Viktor Krum would never resort to such a tactic. Murder is also illegal in the wizarding world, but it still happens.
Percy snaps that he’s busy answering five hundred owls at the Ministry. If the other Weasleys want to know what’s going on, they have to read that morning’s Daily Prophet.
FUDGE: They glare disapprovingly at prisoners if they so much as clear their throats. Really drives home the point that they should be on their best behavior. I personally find small acts of shaming to be more effective than threatening to deaden one’s soul.
PERCY: We were also discussing a career change program for the Dementors. Classes on how to perform job searches, resume writing, that sort of thing. It really saves us a bit of time.
Ron is suspicious. Dementors vanishing? Hermione running off with Viktor? These things must be connected. I’d snark myself, but things happening in conjunction is usually how we get stories.
Back at Magid school, Draco watches Harry pace the room and makes a snide comment about nailing Harry’s feet to the floor. Harry decides to get back at Draco, who’s lying on his bed, “fully-dressed” (thank the fanfic gods) and arms crossed.
Draco as a baby angel… with a scream that can herald the end times, I’ll bet.
Harry’s newest concern is why he hasn’t heard from Ron. Draco poses the question about the owl they received that morning and if the Weasleys don’t have another. Besides the poor darling that practically breathes dust. No, Draco, but I’m sure your family has owls designated for bills, blackmail, and letters to multiple mistresses.
Fed up with not knowing what’s going on, Harry announces that he’s flying to England. Draco goes along with it.
DRACO: This way, we can both run the risk of getting expelled. It’s more exciting that way.
At the Burrow, Ginny rushes to open the door. Standing there like a teen girl’s sex dream come true is Draco, “taller, much browner, and if possible, even blonder.”
DRACO: Are your… parents home?
Ginny slams the door shut in his face. Pfft. Girl, you and his counterparts in The Mortal Instruments series are going to be so hot for each other, they’ll be clawing at each other to ravish their insides.
Harry asks Ginny to open the door. Clare writes that “[i]f Harry had asked Ginny to set the house on fire, she probably would have done it,” which is kind of a severe complement to his gentle request to allow Draco and him access inside the Burrow.
GINNY: My love for Harry is purer than angels’ blood.
Ginny swings the door open to see the second teen girl’s sex dream come true. Harry says it’s good to see her again and asks if everything is all right.
HARRY: Besides my girlfriend running off, of cour—
GINNY: Take me upstairs and take all of me, you unkempt, speccy fool!
Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Draco partake of teatime. As it turns out, Pigwidgeon was too tired to fly back, so Ron had sent a municipal owl from the town’s post office. The boys very well could have passed the owl during their own flight. The poor beastie better get a chunky mouse for that wasted task.
The theory that Hermione was compelled by a love potion is catching on with everyone. Except Harry. Feeling sorry for himself or suspecting his new girlfriend of playing games with him makes more sense in a world that operates on magic.
Ron reveals that after getting back in touch with Percy, the older Weasley freely gave out information pertaining to Viktor’s lodgings in London. A vacated home address is one thing, but a hotel where Viktor could possibly be more vulnerable to kidnapping or attacks? That’s fine.
So now a plan is in the works. How to get inside the World Quidditch Club? Draco had been in there before and advises that they’re in for some difficulty. “There’s a lot of security, I mean those Quidditch stars, they’re real celebrities. We can’t just stroll in.” So send in Harry. Stop wasting brain cells on such an easy scheme.
Ron had been thinking about going as Percy, seeing how they both look alike. Draco scoffs.
DRACO: It’s my trilogy, so yes.
Was there really any need for this line, especially such an obviously lifted one? I could suss that one out just from the difference in tone. *clink*
Ron and Draco start to duke it out when Harry intervenes. He drags Ron outside to the garden where they have a bro argument. A brogument, I suppose you could call it.
HARRY: Malfoy’s just trying to get you angry.
RON: You brought Malfoy over! You know how my family feels about him!
HARRY: I wasn’t thinking.
RON: Of course!
HARRY: But my girlfriend and my feelings about my girlfriend, but especially my feelings.
RON: “Don’t even pass this off on Hermione running away. You show up here, all buddy-buddy with Malfoy, ‘Oh, Malfoy’s my roommate, Malfoy’s my bestest friend, Malfoy’s gonna be my brother, Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy.'”
HARRY: In my defense, I didn’t request him to be my roommate.
RON: Let me have a breakdown!
That should have knocked Harry’s pride sideways, but he admits that Draco isn’t his friend. All Harry can trust is Draco’s loyalty to him and Hermione. In fact, he says that Draco was willing to die for him. “You can’t say that about a lot of people.” Except maybe the young man standing in front of you, buttknob.
Regardless, this patches up Ron’s wounded feelings. That’s probably the only satisfaction he’ll get from his demotion from third wheel to spare tire. You know what, he’s not even that anymore. He’s one of those “barely used” tires at a shady reseller down the backroad everyone warns you about.
But Ron doesn’t believe that Draco is trustworthy. Harry has proof, and brings out the Sneakoscope from his jacket… you know, from the third book in the original source… and is only now making an appearance.
If you don’t know what the Sneakoscope is or need a refresher (like I just now did), it looks like a spinning glass top that can detect untrustworthy people via lighting up, spinning, and whistling. Not at all a giveaway.
Harry claims that the device never goes off when Draco is around. The only time it went off was when the guys were talking to Lupin. Specifically when Lupin was putting away the newspaper about dementors vanishing.
Sure, Harry goes into anaphylactic shock whenever one shows up, but Lupin taught Harry how to summon his Patronus—and showed him that chocolate was an excellent recovery tool. Damn. I’m offended by this oversight. *clink, clink*
After some more manly “you’re my brother” affirmations, the two share a couple of shoulder bops and head back inside.
During that exchange, Ginny and Draco are glaring daggers, swords, and machetes at each other. Draco tries to be civil at first, complimenting Ginny on looking different (“Good different.”) from her foreign exchange program. Ginny in turn asks Draco if he’s traveled much.
*clink*
Seeing how nobody has ever done that, Draco, we can all be assured that even if you did try to be funny, you’d fail. Horribly, miserably, and utterly. There’s someone knowing they’re funny, then someone bragging about how they’re funny. It hurts every bone in my body to think that Clare may have such high opinions about her own sense of humor. And here’s a whole fucking dollar. *clink, clink, clink, clink*
That alone should have sent Ginny storming out of the room, but it’s Draco’s comment about Ginny still being in love with Harry that has her leaving in a fury. Just when Draco is unfunnily yelling after her “Was it something I said?” (*clink*), Harry and Ron return. Ron notices Ginny is missing.
*long-suffering clink*
Time to get back on track. The ragtag team will have to investigate Hermione’s belongings. It should fall to Harry, but he doesn’t feel comfortable doing it. So he asks Draco, of all people, and the platinum blond git feels “pretty okay about it.” I guess he realizes it’s the only way he’ll get into Hermione’s panties.
But Draco can’t make himself do it, so it falls to Ginny. In short order, she finds the note on which Hermione was trying out terms of endearment for the letter she’d been writing. With the evidence in hand, Harry announces they’re going to talk to Viktor.
*clink* Hey, I’m getting tired of this as much as you are. And, yes, I realize that Clare should be the one forking over her change, but this serves as more self punishment.
Cut to some time later when the boys are standing at the front desk in the Quidditch Club. This is a “boys only” mission, as Ginny is still at the Burrow in case Hermione returns. At least Ron gets in on the adventure.
Harry says Viktor Krum is expecting it. At first, it seems that the crew is going to run into difficulty from the lax gatekeeper.
Characters can pull off sarcasm and biting one-liners, but Clarey Potter—or any Harry Potter—isn’t one of them. *clink*
From thinking that the world events revolve around him to usually loathing his fame in the wizard world. Those two sentiments are like clams and peanut butter, they just don’t go together.
The security wizard summons a real-time image of Viktor via a numbered button on the wall behind him. Viktor is informed of Harry and friends and allows them to come up. Easy, breezy. So all is ready to go except for one thing: The security guard asks for an autograph. Hey, it’s a man doing a mundane job experiencing a once-in-a-lifetime chance to meet a celebrity. It’s probably a story to bring home to his wife and kids. Little things like that are like balm to me.
Stop trying to sound sage, you twit.
DRACO: Before he resorted to verbal abuse, of course.
*clink* I can’t wait to see the source of that one.
Viktor Krum receives his surprise guests with civil grumpiness. If you’re wondering how that’s possible, allow a pro to explain: You say it’s good to see the guest, question the time that the guests chose to drop in, then allow them to enter your quarters and cross your arms as you ask them what they want. It’s a gentle kind of passive-aggressiveness that guilts the visitor. Viktor illustrates this perfectly, and as a grumpy homebody, I can’t be more proud.
Ron suddenly realizes that they’re at a big disadvantage where beating up Viktor is concerned. “He could have benchpressed Harry and had energy left over to toss Draco the length of an Olympic swimming pool.” Please, the guy could pulverize both into bloody jelly and still had the energy to play a weeklong Quidditch match without sleep. Nice mention of the Muggle Olympic pool, too.
Harry presents Hermione’s letter to Viktor. The Quidditch player skims it and declares that it’s a joke. When he’s interrogated about his whereabouts, Viktor turns pale. He becomes distressed. He had been at practice yesterday morning, then returned to his room to rest, but after that, he can’t remember what happened.
God fuck it, stop trying to be smarmy in everything! *clink, clink, clink*
To make matters worse, Viktor can’t remember where he got the marks on his left wrist. “[F]ive, dark red, half-moon-shaped indentations.” Harry thinks of Hermione desperately trying to free herself from Viktor.
Draco brings out his wand and casts a veritas at Viktor. Attack now, ask later. Impulsive and stupid. You ever considered a career as a cop, Draco?
Mean-blippity-while, Hermione comes out of a deep sleep. Sluggishly becoming aware of her surroundings, she sees stone blocks and one of those ancient oak doors with the iron bands. At least whoever put her here was kind enough to make her a bed of straw.
The door opens in a menacingly slow fashion. Still weak from whatever drugged her, Hermione is too weak to back away on her feet, so she “skitter[s] backwards on her elbows, away from the door,” as opposed to right up to the possible danger.
In walks the standard hooded figure. I’d describe him now, but I don’t have the energy. Hermione herself finds it hard to ask the usual “where am I, what am I doing here, who are you” questions because her throat closes up.
Wow, for someone whose throat closed up, that’s quite the accomplishment!
Obnoxiousness Jar: $9
