Chapter 5: Tamer of Fire
Harry had to suppress a flood of accusations when Hermione and Ron arrived from the hospital wing, and they all sat down for dinner.
"Why are you turning into a try-hard all of a sudden?" asked Ron. "Are you trying to show us up in music?"
"Ron, I'm not trying anything – I was just…bored…"
"Yeah, bored, when you had a Charms essay to do?"
"You know what I mean – and besides – you can sing and so can Hermione."
"Me? Sing? Have you heard me? What's gotten into you?"
"No, what's gotten into you, Ron, why are you so sensitive about music?"
There was an awkward pause.
"Well…it's just that you've got flying and Hermione's got intelligence…and I thought I could get somewhere in music…"
"Because you can sort of sing…"
"Yeah…"
"Chudley Cannons chants, of course."
"Hermione, there's no need to be so blunt! As if you aren't already good at music – you're so good at piano and stuff like that."
"I only play the piano when I go home for the holidays! So how can I possibly be good at it?"
"You just can…the way you're good at everything!"
"I'm not speaking to you anymore, Hermione, if you continue to put on this fake show of modesty." Harry marched off to sit next to Colin and Dennis Creevey, who listened intently to his every word and never made a sound in reply. Nobody but him noticed that Ron and Hermione were creeping out the door of the Great Hall.
Ron did not return that night, as far as Harry knew. At one time he decided to look out the window, but he changed his mind and chose to snatch some sleep.
The idea of forcing Hedwig to drink a potentially dangerous brew still petrified Harry, and he was plotting to get her out of the school somehow. But Hermione and Ron were deserting him like the leaves were deserting their trees, as he crunched through the layers of grounded foliage in the Hogwarts grounds.
He heard another sound behind him, crisping its way through the autumn windfall, and he turned around.
A magnificent Thestral was bounding through the fallen plants. Its coat was ablaze and its mane was like a living flame. Its eyes seemed to be windows to a raging inferno. The one controlling this firestorm was…
"It's Stella-Hermione again…it's as if she's choosing to haunt me…"
The second Thestral pounded by, dappled with bronze and blue, with tresses like Deep Ocean ripples.
"Have you ever ridden a horse before?" Stella-Hermione asked Harry.
"Er…no…"
"Well, there's always a first time!"
Harry was swept off his feet as Stella-Hermione whisked him atop the fire-Thestral.
"Look, it's easy – just hold onto me."
"Are you sure you're ten years old?" yelled Harry.
"What's age to you?"
"Because you seem to act like somebody older."
"Well, isn't age so superficial? I mean – some people don't even know your age – and it's so easy to pretend, you know."
"I don't know where this conversation is going!"
"Well, haven't you ever gone free?"
"You have the craziest views of anybody I've ever known – even Hermione!"
"What, you mean about worrying about being expelled and thinking Professor Trewlawny is an old fraud?"
"Not quite."
"Oh – SPEW – yeah, I do believe in equal rights for all creatures, even more patriotically than Hermione."
"You use bigger words than she does."
"Yes, I do believe I have an expanded vocabulary."
"But you are strange – you play the piano, you bring music to Hogwarts, according to Hermione, you ice skate, you appear in the strangest of places…and…you ride these…Thestrals…"
"They're nothing – I've tackled greater creatures before."
"Stella-Hermione, Thestrals are dangerous – everyone knows that – they can eat people!"
"I'm a vegetarian, so they know I don't mean any harm, even if they are carnivorous. This one – I'm calling her Spirit – I've managed to convert her to at least a scavenger. And she eats lots of vegetables now."
"You talk about Spirit as if she was a child!"
"Well, in a way, compared to me, she is."
Harry was puzzled by this.
"I know what you're thinking," she persisted. "I'll bet you're like everyone else now – you think I'm something off this planet…you know, I love the movie Pocahontas – I like it in a similar way that I like TKAM – To Kill A Mockingbird!"
"Why?"
"There's a beautiful little song called 'Colours of the Wind'!"
"Can you sing it?"
"Sure! I was going to anyway – you're reading my mind."
"You think I'm an ignorant savage
And you've been so many places
I guess it must be so
But still I cannot see
If the savage one is me
Now can there be so much that you don't know?
You don't know ...
You think you own whatever land you land on
The Earth is just a dead thing you can claim
But I know every rock and tree and creature
Has a life, has a spirit, has a name
You think the only people who are people
Are the people who look and think like you
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger
You'll learn things you never knew you never knew
Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon
Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountains?
Can you paint with all the colours of the wind?
Can you paint with all the colours of the wind?
Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest
Come taste the sun-sweet berries of the Earth
Come roll in all the riches all around you
And for once, never wonder what they're worth
The rainstorm and the river are my brothers
The heron and the otter are my friends
And we are all connected to each other
In a circle, in a hoop that never ends
How high will the sycamore grow?
If you cut it down, then you'll never know
And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon
For whether we are white or copper skinned
We need to sing with all the voices of the mountains
We need to paint with all the colours of the wind
You can own the Earth and still
All you'll own is Earth until
You can paint with all the colours of the wind
"It's nice, isn't it?"
Harry was brought back to his senses once again. "Yeah – you can really sing – I never thought you could…"
"Mmm, yeah – I write songs too. I would sing you one if I wasn't so…sort of worried...worried that they're not exactly…"
"Exactly what?"
"Professional…"
"Well, what can you expect from ten-year-olds? Stella-Hermione, you're only ten, remember that."
"What makes you think that?"
"It's just that you are."
"I am?" Before he could answer, she pushed him off the Thestral and into the orange carpet below.
"What kind of idiot are you? You're smart in school but you have no common sense?"
"No common sense?"
"You could've broken something by doing that!"
"Falling unto a leafy cushion?"
"That is dangerous, you idiot!"
"No it's not – I've done it a million times before – even without the leaves."
"Can we cut the talk about the leaves?"
"You'll have to shut me up first."
"Wait…"
"What?"
"Do you have control over nature or something?"
"Don't all witches?"
"Not all of them," Harry told her, thinking of Pansy Parkinson.
"Well, I'll tell you one thing."
"Now what?"
"You can't shut me up – it's not possible to."
"You're even more talkative than…"
"Who?"
"Just someone I was thinking about…"
"All right. I'll shut up now, like you'd like me to."
But before Harry had a chance to reply…
Stella-Hermione pulled him deep down into the carpet of leaves and fixed her mouth on his.
"You're tense," she accused, when they broke off. "Something's on your mind."
"Actually, come to think of it, that's true…"
"Well, what is it?"
"My owl, Hedwig."
"Oh yeah – you don't want her to have to drink the results of your hazardous Polyjuice Potion."
"How did you know that?"
"I have ways…"
"But do you know how to solve the problem?"
"Leave it to me – when does she have to drink it?"
"Next Friday," Harry thought gloomily.
"That's easy then – just try – remember this – you can take an owl to potion, but you can't make it drink."
Then she put her hand on his, but it was burning with heat. Startled, Harry flinched. The child fled. Harry was so taken aback that he abstained from following her, and went in the opposite direction. There, he found Hermione and Ron doing exactly what he had been doing thirty seconds before. Hoping they had not spotted him, Harry took a leaf out of Stella-Hermione's book and took flight.
Harry had to suppress a flood of accusations when Hermione and Ron arrived from the hospital wing, and they all sat down for dinner.
"Why are you turning into a try-hard all of a sudden?" asked Ron. "Are you trying to show us up in music?"
"Ron, I'm not trying anything – I was just…bored…"
"Yeah, bored, when you had a Charms essay to do?"
"You know what I mean – and besides – you can sing and so can Hermione."
"Me? Sing? Have you heard me? What's gotten into you?"
"No, what's gotten into you, Ron, why are you so sensitive about music?"
There was an awkward pause.
"Well…it's just that you've got flying and Hermione's got intelligence…and I thought I could get somewhere in music…"
"Because you can sort of sing…"
"Yeah…"
"Chudley Cannons chants, of course."
"Hermione, there's no need to be so blunt! As if you aren't already good at music – you're so good at piano and stuff like that."
"I only play the piano when I go home for the holidays! So how can I possibly be good at it?"
"You just can…the way you're good at everything!"
"I'm not speaking to you anymore, Hermione, if you continue to put on this fake show of modesty." Harry marched off to sit next to Colin and Dennis Creevey, who listened intently to his every word and never made a sound in reply. Nobody but him noticed that Ron and Hermione were creeping out the door of the Great Hall.
Ron did not return that night, as far as Harry knew. At one time he decided to look out the window, but he changed his mind and chose to snatch some sleep.
The idea of forcing Hedwig to drink a potentially dangerous brew still petrified Harry, and he was plotting to get her out of the school somehow. But Hermione and Ron were deserting him like the leaves were deserting their trees, as he crunched through the layers of grounded foliage in the Hogwarts grounds.
He heard another sound behind him, crisping its way through the autumn windfall, and he turned around.
A magnificent Thestral was bounding through the fallen plants. Its coat was ablaze and its mane was like a living flame. Its eyes seemed to be windows to a raging inferno. The one controlling this firestorm was…
"It's Stella-Hermione again…it's as if she's choosing to haunt me…"
The second Thestral pounded by, dappled with bronze and blue, with tresses like Deep Ocean ripples.
"Have you ever ridden a horse before?" Stella-Hermione asked Harry.
"Er…no…"
"Well, there's always a first time!"
Harry was swept off his feet as Stella-Hermione whisked him atop the fire-Thestral.
"Look, it's easy – just hold onto me."
"Are you sure you're ten years old?" yelled Harry.
"What's age to you?"
"Because you seem to act like somebody older."
"Well, isn't age so superficial? I mean – some people don't even know your age – and it's so easy to pretend, you know."
"I don't know where this conversation is going!"
"Well, haven't you ever gone free?"
"You have the craziest views of anybody I've ever known – even Hermione!"
"What, you mean about worrying about being expelled and thinking Professor Trewlawny is an old fraud?"
"Not quite."
"Oh – SPEW – yeah, I do believe in equal rights for all creatures, even more patriotically than Hermione."
"You use bigger words than she does."
"Yes, I do believe I have an expanded vocabulary."
"But you are strange – you play the piano, you bring music to Hogwarts, according to Hermione, you ice skate, you appear in the strangest of places…and…you ride these…Thestrals…"
"They're nothing – I've tackled greater creatures before."
"Stella-Hermione, Thestrals are dangerous – everyone knows that – they can eat people!"
"I'm a vegetarian, so they know I don't mean any harm, even if they are carnivorous. This one – I'm calling her Spirit – I've managed to convert her to at least a scavenger. And she eats lots of vegetables now."
"You talk about Spirit as if she was a child!"
"Well, in a way, compared to me, she is."
Harry was puzzled by this.
"I know what you're thinking," she persisted. "I'll bet you're like everyone else now – you think I'm something off this planet…you know, I love the movie Pocahontas – I like it in a similar way that I like TKAM – To Kill A Mockingbird!"
"Why?"
"There's a beautiful little song called 'Colours of the Wind'!"
"Can you sing it?"
"Sure! I was going to anyway – you're reading my mind."
"You think I'm an ignorant savage
And you've been so many places
I guess it must be so
But still I cannot see
If the savage one is me
Now can there be so much that you don't know?
You don't know ...
You think you own whatever land you land on
The Earth is just a dead thing you can claim
But I know every rock and tree and creature
Has a life, has a spirit, has a name
You think the only people who are people
Are the people who look and think like you
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger
You'll learn things you never knew you never knew
Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon
Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountains?
Can you paint with all the colours of the wind?
Can you paint with all the colours of the wind?
Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest
Come taste the sun-sweet berries of the Earth
Come roll in all the riches all around you
And for once, never wonder what they're worth
The rainstorm and the river are my brothers
The heron and the otter are my friends
And we are all connected to each other
In a circle, in a hoop that never ends
How high will the sycamore grow?
If you cut it down, then you'll never know
And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon
For whether we are white or copper skinned
We need to sing with all the voices of the mountains
We need to paint with all the colours of the wind
You can own the Earth and still
All you'll own is Earth until
You can paint with all the colours of the wind
"It's nice, isn't it?"
Harry was brought back to his senses once again. "Yeah – you can really sing – I never thought you could…"
"Mmm, yeah – I write songs too. I would sing you one if I wasn't so…sort of worried...worried that they're not exactly…"
"Exactly what?"
"Professional…"
"Well, what can you expect from ten-year-olds? Stella-Hermione, you're only ten, remember that."
"What makes you think that?"
"It's just that you are."
"I am?" Before he could answer, she pushed him off the Thestral and into the orange carpet below.
"What kind of idiot are you? You're smart in school but you have no common sense?"
"No common sense?"
"You could've broken something by doing that!"
"Falling unto a leafy cushion?"
"That is dangerous, you idiot!"
"No it's not – I've done it a million times before – even without the leaves."
"Can we cut the talk about the leaves?"
"You'll have to shut me up first."
"Wait…"
"What?"
"Do you have control over nature or something?"
"Don't all witches?"
"Not all of them," Harry told her, thinking of Pansy Parkinson.
"Well, I'll tell you one thing."
"Now what?"
"You can't shut me up – it's not possible to."
"You're even more talkative than…"
"Who?"
"Just someone I was thinking about…"
"All right. I'll shut up now, like you'd like me to."
But before Harry had a chance to reply…
Stella-Hermione pulled him deep down into the carpet of leaves and fixed her mouth on his.
"You're tense," she accused, when they broke off. "Something's on your mind."
"Actually, come to think of it, that's true…"
"Well, what is it?"
"My owl, Hedwig."
"Oh yeah – you don't want her to have to drink the results of your hazardous Polyjuice Potion."
"How did you know that?"
"I have ways…"
"But do you know how to solve the problem?"
"Leave it to me – when does she have to drink it?"
"Next Friday," Harry thought gloomily.
"That's easy then – just try – remember this – you can take an owl to potion, but you can't make it drink."
Then she put her hand on his, but it was burning with heat. Startled, Harry flinched. The child fled. Harry was so taken aback that he abstained from following her, and went in the opposite direction. There, he found Hermione and Ron doing exactly what he had been doing thirty seconds before. Hoping they had not spotted him, Harry took a leaf out of Stella-Hermione's book and took flight.