Harry potter and the mischief of peeves

Chapter five

A.N. Okay, despite my better judgment, I am going to try typing this chapter with MS Word. I have never been a big fan of this product, but as I need to get used to this for work, I guess typing something like a chapter for a story will do just fine.

It was just as Remus had feared.

No sooner did he stroll from the Forbidden Forest than he was assaulted, much to his annoyance but no great surprise, by the unpleasant sneering visage of Severus Snape.

"Well, well, Lupin finally decides to make an appearance," Snape spat in his oily voice as soon as he saw the other man.

"Ahh, Severus, as pleasant as ever, I see," Lupin retorted, forcing himself to be nonchalant. It was the last thing he wanted to do; he had not forgotten how the other man's hatred of Sirius had blinded him to all else the night before. Pettigrew might have still been captured if Snape had listened long enough to understand what was going on.

The man's sneering reply brought the werewolf back to his senses. "A lot has happened since you ran off in to the forest, Lupin."

"What is it now, Severus? I had a rough night last night without the Wolfsbane Potion and find that I need a nap."

If anything, the smirk on Snape's sallow face widened.

"Oh no, werewolf! You're going to tell me where Potter and Granger have gotten off to. Then, you are going to tell me exactly where Sirius Black is hiding. There is an Order of Merlin waiting for me, and no orfan, Mudblood, or filthy mutt"

The next moment, Snape found himself lifted off the ground, one of the werewolf's hands wrapped securely around his throat. Lupin brought him close, letting go of his neck but retaining a grip on the front of his robes. He hauled the man until they were less than a fingers-width apart before speaking in a voice that was hardly recognizable as belonging to the normally even-tempered man.

"Listen here, Syphilis, and listen well I don't know where Sirius Black is right now. The last thing I remember is transforming in to a wolf while marching back from the Shrieking Shack up to the school. As for Harry and Hermione, I have no idea where they are if they are not in school."

His grip on the Potions master tightened further, if that was possible, before he continued. "If I ever hear you bad mouthing Harry, Sirius, Hermione, or any of their friends for no reason ever again, you'll wish Voldemort had killed you during his rise to power. Now, since I know I can't find out what happened from you, I think I'll go and ask Albus what is going on."

With that said, he pushed Snape violently away, hard enough in fact to send him flying back about ten feet before coming to rest in an undignified heap of robes and limbs as he attempted to straighten himself. Remus left him there, shooting daggers of hate with his eyes, and made his way quickly towards the headmaster's office. Dumbledore, he knew, would have to be told the whole story. He only hoped that the man would believe him. He did, however, have one consoling thought to take with him as he went. The name Snivellus Snape had finally been done one better. Yes, the werewolf thought wryly to himself as he entered through the double doors, the name Syphilis Snape is certainly more appropriate. Remus had been in the Muggle world before, and had heard of this Muggle sexually transmitted disease. While the symptoms were definitely far different, he certainly thought the idea of a transmitted illness described the Potions master's temper exactly.

Ronald Weasley was not happy. In fact, you might go as far as to say he was quite annoyed. He'd woken up several hours earlier in the hospital wing with no idea of how he'd gotten there or why. He had been slightly disappointed to see that Harry and Hermione were not there waiting for him to wake up. However, his disappointment was replaced by awe and worry when he realized that the only person waiting for him to wake up was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Even that conversation had not gone well. Dumbledore had simply inquired in to his well-being, asked him to recount his version of events from the night before, and then left, promising to come back later to check on him. Madam Pomfrey had not been much help either. When he asked to see Harry and Hermione, she had simply frowned at him, told him to rest, and walked back to her office without another word.

His frustration had only grown since then. He had continued to inquire after his friends every time that the nurse had come by to check on him. Every time, he would receive the same disapproving frown before she would walk away to resume her duties elsewhere. Finally, after his fourth barrage of questions, she had finally replied with a curt "you're free to go, Mr. Weasley", before again heading away from him.

Now, here he was making his way up from the hospital wing, worry growing in the pit of his stomach wondering where Harry and Hermione were. The last thing he remembered was seeing them frozen with shock as Lupin had transformed. He remembered seeing Harry breaking out of his temporary stupor when Pettigrew had gone for Lupin's fallen wand. And that was it until he had woken this morning.

Eventually, he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and gave her the password. Even before he had fully emerged in to the Gryffindor common room, his eyes had already began to search for the two heads, one of messy jet black hair and the other of bushy brown hair, that belonged to his companions. His uneasiness and irritation only grew as he failed to spot them among the rest of the milling students. However, he had hardly emerged fully in to the common room when he was seized by each arm.

"Ickle Ronniekins, where have you been mate?" Fred asked.

"Don't you know how worried we've been dear brother?" George wanted to know.

"Now, now, leave him alone, Forge. He just wants to see his friends."

"Then I guess, Gred, it is our solemn duty to inform our dear brother that his friends are not here."

"Jumped ship."

"Bailed out."

"Flew the coop."

"Split!"

"ske-daddled!"

"Will the two of you just tell me what in the bloody hell you're talking about," Ron roared, his annoyance finally reaching a breaking point.

"Well, little brother," George finally relented. "it seems that Harry and Hermione fled from the school last night."

Even after the stressful events of the night before, the twins could not help but be amused by the expression of shock on the face of their younger brother.

Over the next ten minutes, the two of them told what they knew and had seen, being very careful to go in to painstakingly detailed descriptions regarding the incident with Professor McGonagall and her attempts to transfigure the Firebolt. Even Ron broke out of his stupor long enough to laugh at how well the twins acted out the event.

However, at the end of the narrative, he was utterly flustered and puzzled. He had no idea what to say or do. It was obvious that Dumbledore would not tell him any information even if he had any. Professor Lupin had been in the forest last night running around on all fours so Ron doubted he would know anything else either. The rest of the teaching staff would follow Dumbledore.

And then, Ron had what was probably his most brilliant idea to date. Fred and George exchanged puzzled looks as their brother suddenly turned around and sprinted up the stairs to the dorms, taking them two at a time.

"Mental that one," Fred remarked casually.

"Completely flipped," George agreed.

Ron paid them no mind. He sprinted in to his room, pausing only to notice that Harry's trunk was missing, and snatched parchment and quill from his own trunk.

His flight down the stairs was just as hasty. Noticing the twins still giving him puzzled looks, he stopped long enough to say "Hedwig" before tearing out of the room on his mission to the owlery. If any one could find Harry in this craziness it would be Hedwig. After all, sharing a bond with the Boy Who Lived would make it an easy task.

Brilliant as the idea was, it was doomed to failure. When Ron reached the owlery, clutching the stitch that had developed in his side, one glance around was all it took to notice the absence of the snowy owl.

Ron's shoulders slumped.

The busiest time of the year for Gringotts Wizarding Bank was almost without exception that time period just before the return of students to Hogwarts each September. The flow would again pick up as the holidays neared, with its second largest peak hitting the week before Christmas. However, in early June, only a light trickle of customers could be found entering and exiting the bank, keeping the stream of business fairly slow yet steady. It was on a warm day in the month of June, 1994, that two cloaked and hooded figures strode casually through the grand sets of double doors that led in to the formidable white building in Diagon Alley. They were non-descript, just slightly over five feet in height, wearing perfectly normal wizarding robes. However, these two individuals were among the top five most sought after individuals in the whole wizarding community of Great Britain, if not the world.

Luck was apparently on their side. Several goblin tellers were lounging behind the counter, either scribbling madly on some senseless rows and columns of numbers, or simply sitting looking bored waiting for customers to approach. This, the two strangers did.

"I would like to make a withdrawal from my vault, please," said one with a somewhat squeaky male voice.

"Key please," snapped one of the bored-looking creatures. The goblin took the key, examined it for a moment as if checking its authenticity, then snapped his head back up and nodded.

"This way, Mr. P–", The goblin was cut off by a shake of the head from one of the figures.

Vaulting up from behind the counter, the goblin swung itself down to the floor now on the customers' side and, with a slight gesture to follow, walked rapidly through the doors to where the narrow train tracks led deep in to the catacombs that crisscrossed for miles beneath London.

Once he had secured a cart, the two figures joined him inside and the ride began. One of the figures was whimpering and clutching on the other with a death grip. The sight of the pair made the goblin guide smirk. He always took some perverse pleasure in watching people nearly lose their lunch while riding the carts, especially after being informed that the contraptions went only one speed.

Eventually, the wild ride came to a halt and they all dismounted. The two figures looked at each other, seemed to come to some sort of agreement, and finally removed their hoods.

"Enjoy the ride, Hermione?" Harry Potter asked smirking at the girl who still maintained her iron grip on his arm.

He was rewarded when she stuck her tongue out at him before releasing said arm with a huff. They might have continued to banter back and forth far below the streets of London, but a polite, if not slightly impatient, cough came from their guide.

"Oh right," Harry said, looking away from Hermione and returning his gaze to the goblin. "Sorry, I think we got carried away. Lead on, Griphook."

The goblin had been about to insert the key in to the door of Harry's vault. However, at hearing his name fall so casually from the lips of the young man in front of him, he jerked back so rapidly that he overbalanced, waving his arms madly, and would have pitched backwards on to the tracks if Harry's Seeker reflexes hadn't kicked in. As it was, he was able to grab the goblin by the arm and haul him back upright. Blinking slightly, the goblin stared at him for a moment, then said in a voice far friendlier than Harry had ever heard from any goblin, "Sorry about that, Mr. Potter. You rather startled me."

"Why is that," Hermione wanted to know.

"Miss Granger," the goblin said (he ignored the start that both teens gave upon his recognition of Harry's companion). "I have worked at this facility for over sixty years. In all that time, no one has ever recognized me by sight."

Now it was Harry and Hermione's' turn to be surprised. Griphook, however, turned away from them and unlocked the door and, with a slight flourish and a deep bow, he ushered the pair inside.

Hermione gasped at the sight before her. She had never ventured down on the carts before. When she came to the bank in Diagon Alley, her parents had always exchanged Muggle money for her at the counter set up for that purpose by the goblins. It was, therefore, no surprise that she was shocked by the piles of gold, silver and bronze that were stacked nearly floor to ceiling in the vault. Obviously, Harry was no stranger to this sight. He had already entered the vault, stooped and seized several handfuls of the gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts, and scooped them in to his money bag.

Harry turned and started to exit the vault when he noticed something that he had never seen before. Amidst the piles of coins, something white stood out. Moving in to the corner and stepping over the coins, he knelt down again and retrieved a crisp white envelope from under a mound of Sickles. Curiosity got the better of him and he immediately tore in to the package, pulling out a letter slightly yellowing with age.

"Griphook, can you arrange a little light in here?" Harry called back to the goblin, squinting horribly and still unable to make out the contents of the letter. The goblin snapped his fingers and a light suddenly came on overhead, making both Harry and Hermione yelp and throw their hands over their eyes momentarily. Griphook just smirked again.

"Thanks," Harry told him, and the sarcasm that was in that one word nearly made Hermione giggle.

Harry bent over the letter again.

Dear Harry:

If you are reading this letter, then the worst has come to pass and your mother and I are dead. This is something that we actually expect might happen, yet we are taking every precaution to hopefully prove ourselves wrong.

Hopefully, if you are reading this, then you are just getting ready to start Hogwarts and you and Sirius are visiting the trust vault that your mother and I have set up for you. There is enough money in here that should get you through school, leaving you with plenty of extra to spend on nice things for yourself or for some lady friend(s). "Okay, Lils, I know he's only eleven. I'll stop now". (massaging sore spot on head).

Harry, by now, Sirius should have told you the main reason that your mother and I are dead. He does not know all of the details, but he does know enough that he should at least be able to give you the basis. Basically, Harry, the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore, came to us about two weeks ago and told us that a prophecy had been made regarding the one who would be able to defeat Lord Voldemort. We are, as of this time, not even certain that the prophecy applies to you. It could apply to one other boy born one day earlier than you, thus giving him a birthday of July 30. However, at this time, we are unsure of which of you the prophecy refers to.

Basically, son, this prophecy refers to you or to the other boy, a fellow named Neville Longbottom. It states that one of the two of you will be born with the power to utterly destroy the Dark Lord. By now, you should be old enough to understand this prophecy and, with Padfoot's help, to begin making the necessary arrangements to begin extra training in order that, in the case the prophecy refers to you, there will be a greater measure of hope of defeating Voldemort. No doubt, Harry, you will want to hear the full text of this prophecy. I do not dare to write it down in its entirety in the event that this letter somehow finds its way in to the wrong hands. To hear the entire prophecy, ask Professor Dumbledore. He will tell you. In the event that the unthinkable has happened and Dumbledore has died, you can also hear this prophecy in its entirety by visiting the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic.

Hopefully, all of this will prove unnecessary and your mother and I will get a chance to tell you all of this in person. However, I have a bad feeling that such will not be our fate. Know this, however, son. If we did not survive to watch you grow up in to the man that we know that you are bound to be, we will still always be with you in your heart, and you will see us in you when you have the most need to.

We love you, little Pronglet.

Lily and James Potter

P.S.: Upon your receipt of this letter, you hereby inherit the rest of the Potter vaults. If you are old enough to understand the contents of this letter, then you are sure old enough to show some maturity with the items that you will find there. Besides great jewels of value to our family, you will also find the title deeds to all of the properties which, by default, are now yours. Make that lazy mutt show them to you. Also, I expect that the restriction on underage magic which annoys every witch and wizard, other than the idiots in the Ministry, will pose no problem to you at Potter Manor.

J. and L.

TBC