Adventures of Harriet Potter

The House-Elf Liberation Front

Harriet, Ron, and Hermione went up to the Owlery that evening to find Pigwidgeon, so that Harriet could send Sirius a letter telling him that she had managed to get past her dragon unscathed. On the way, Harriet filled Ron in on everything Sirius had told her about Karkaroff. Though shocked at first to hear that Karkaroff had been a Death Eater, by the time they entered the Owlery Ron was saying that they ought to have suspected it all along. "Fits, doesn't it?" he said. "Remember what Malfoy said on the train, about his dad being friends with Karkaroff? Now we know where they knew each other. They were probably running around in masks together at the World Cup. . . . I'll tell you one thing, though, Harriet, if it was Karkaroff who put your name in the goblet, he's going to be feeling really stupid now, isn't he? Didn't work, did it? You only got a scratch! Come here — I'll do it —"
Pigwidgeon was so overexcited at the idea of a delivery he was flying around and around Harriet's head, hooting incessantly. Ron snatched Pigwidgeon out of the air and held him still while Harriet attached the letter to his leg. "There's no way any of the other tasks are going to be that dangerous, how could they be?" Ron went on as he carried Pigwidgeon to the window. "You know what? I reckon you could win this tournament, Harriet, I'm serious." Harriet knew that Ron was only saying this to make up for his behavior of the last few weeks, but she appreciated it all the same. Hermione, however, leaned against the Owlery wall, folded her arms, and frowned at Ron. "Harriet's got a long way to go before she finishes this tournament," she said seriously. "If that was the first task, I hate to think what's coming next."
"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?" said Ron. "You and Professor Trelawney should get together sometime." He threw Pigwidgeon out of the window. Pigwidgeon plummeted twelve feet before managing to pull himself back up again; the letter attached to his leg was much longer and heavier than usual — Harriet hadn't been able to resist giving Sirius a blow-by-blow account of exactly how she had swerved, circled, and dodged the Hebridean Black. They watched Pigwidgeon disappear into the darkness, and then Ron said, "Well, we'd better get downstairs for your surprise party, Harriet — Fred and George should have nicked enough food from the kitchens by now."
Sure enough, when they entered the Gryffindor common room it exploded with cheers and yells again. There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; Lee Jordan had let off some Filibuster's Fireworks, so that the air was thick with stars and sparks; and Dean Thomas, who was very good at drawing, had put up some impressive new banners, most of which depicted Harriet zooming around the Hebridean Black's head on her Firebolt, though a couple showed Cedric with his head on fire. Harriet helped herself to food; she had almost forgotten what it was like to feel properly hungry, and sat down with Ron and Hermione. She couldn't believe how happy she felt; she had Ron back on her side, she'd gotten through the first task, and she wouldn't have to face the second one for three months.
"Blimey, this is heavy," said Lee Jordan, picking up the golden egg, which Harriet had left on a table, and weighing it in his hands. "Open it, Harriet, go on! Let's just see what's inside it!" urged Ron before taking a swig of butterbeer. "She's supposed to work out the clue on her own," Hermione said swiftly. "It's in the tournament rules. . . ."
"I was supposed to work out how to get past the dragon on my own too," Harriet muttered, so only Hermione could hear her, and she grinned rather guiltily. "Yeah, go on, Harriet, open it!" several people echoed. Lee passed Harriet the egg, and Harriet dug her fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and prised it open. It was hollow and completely empty — but the moment Harriet opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room. The nearest thing to it Harriet had ever heard was the ghost orchestra at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party, who had all been playing the musical saw.
"Shut it!" Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears. "What was that?" said Seamus Finnigan, staring at the egg as Harriet slammed it shut again. "Sounded like a banshee. . . . Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harriet!" That wouldn't surprise Harriet, though she doubted she'd face two dangerous creatures in a row for the tournament. "It was someone being tortured!" said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. "You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"
"Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal," said George. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing . . . maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower, Harriet." She snorted at the idea. "Want a jam tart, Hermione?" said Fred. Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering her. Fred grinned. "It's all right," he said. "I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch —" Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out. Fred laughed. "Just my little joke, Neville. . . ." he said with a grin. Hermione took a jam tart. Then she said, "Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?"
"Yep," said Fred, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. "'Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!' They're dead helpful . . . get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish." That impressed Harriet. "How do you get in there?" Hermione said in an innocently casual sort of voice. "Easy," said Fred, "concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and —" He stopped and looked suspiciously at her. "Why?" Harriet felt she knew why, and hoped Hermione would let it go until they graduated. "Nothing," said Hermione quickly. "Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?" said George. "Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?"
Several people chortled. Hermione didn't answer. "Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" said Fred warningly. "You'll put them off their cooking!" Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary. "Oh — sorry, Neville!" Fred shouted over all the laughter. "I forgot — it *was* the custard creams we hexed —" Within a minute, however, Neville had molted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing.
"Canary Creams!" Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. "George and I invented them — seven Sickles each, a bargain!" It was nearly one in the morning when Harriet finally went up to the dormitory with Hermione, Lydia, Lavender, and Parvati. Before she pulled the curtains of her four-poster shut, Harriet set her tiny model of the Hungarian Horntail on the table next to his bed, where it yawned, curled up, and closed its eyes. Really, Harriet thought, as she pulled the hangings on her four-poster closed, Hagrid had a point . . . they were all right, really, dragons. . . .