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augury_hermy in augury_rpg

In the morning

Who: Hermione, Ron, Harry
What: Harry returns after being an idiot
When: Halloween, morning
Where: Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes
Status: Complete

Various attempts to wake the redheaded-- and only other present-- member of their group--had failed, and Hermione finally resorted to kicking Ron in the side-- well, not so much kicking as toeing, but still, her stockingfoot was making contact with his side.  "Ron?" she asked, with that high-pitched note that always came into her voice when she was worried.  "Ron, did you see Harry at all this morning?"

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He'd been having a wonderful dream. With all sorts of wonderful pies. Pies of every possible flavor, and with such vast amounts of whipped cream that he'd never be able to eat them all. But someone had started calling his name, and how was he supposed to concentrate on the lovely pies with that sort of a distraction? And then the poking at his ribs had started, and the pies had melted away into nothingness. And Hermione was standing over him nudging him with her foot.

He was a rational human being, Ron was. He tried his best to say "What is it, Hermione? Why are you waking me up so early, and by kicking me in the ribs of all things?" Unfortunately, it came out as "Wha? Whuzzat? Whozere? Pies?"
"Ron, can you stop thinking about your stomach for one minute?" Hermione huffed. "Harry's gone. Have you seen him?"
He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs and muzziness away. "Harry?" He looked around rather stupidly. "Dunno. I thought he was over there." He waved at the cot that had been Harry's, and the pile of rumpled sheets that occupied it.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Maybe he's in the shop?"
"I checked the shop," Hermione answered. "I thought-- he didn't say anythi-- Oh, who am I joking? If he had said something to you, you wouldn't have heard it anyhow."

She sighed, sputtering a bit, and then dropped to sit on the foot of Ron's cot. "Really. And I don't know if he's just gone for a walk or run off to do something-- stupidly Harry-like. Someday one of you is going to learn to leave a note."
Ron knuckled his eyes again, stretched his neck a bit, and got up out of the bed. Hermione was right, they didn't know whether Harry had just gone for a walk (though that was pretty unlikely, given his recently-awarded status) or if he'd gone out to do something... well, Harry-like.

"Maybe we ought to go and look for him then?" He didn't know where they'd start looking, but still. "Just in case he... you know?"
"I don't know," Hermione answered dismally, pushing herself back up after Ron. "That's just the trouble." She huffed a little, hugging her arms around her middle. "I hate not knowing," she muttered. "The way I see it, it's Harry, and if he's gone and done something stupid, I've narrowed it down to the most incredibly stupid thing he could possibly do. Which means I have a terrible feeling he's gone back to Grimmauld Place to get Hedwig. He did mention it, Ron."
Ron winced. As much as he hated to think of it, there was very little chance the owl would be there when Harry made it back to the house. And there was an incredibly good chance that someone - or some group - that Harry definitely did not want to meet would be there to intercept him.

"So what should we do?" He turned a worried expression on Hermione. "We can't exactly go there ourselves to get him back, can we?" He considered for a moment. "Who can we call to go along with us?"
"Lupin?" Hermione answered, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. "We-- I--"

She winced, and looked Ron over. "How are you feeling?" she asked, him, her expression softening.
Harry had flown out of London, secrecy laws be damned. The sun wasn't up anyway. He had been forced to land when the pain of his hand- probably broken- made it too difficult to hold onto his broomstick.

He took a moment to repair his glasses with a quick spell. That much he good do, but the pain throbbing up and down his body made it difficult to concentrate on any healing spells. What he knew of them anyway.

Hoping he wouldn't splinch himself, he Apparated back to the shop and crept up the stairs, broomstick in one bloodied hand. With any luck, Ron and Hermione were still sleeping.
Hermione jumped at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. "Harry James Potter, if that's you, you had better have one good explanatio--"

She stopped as she rounded the doorway and saw his face. "Oh my-- Harry!" she exclaimed, her own face going dead white. "What's happened to you?!"
Ron whirled to see his battered best friend standing in the doorway, his Firebolt dangling from a hand that dripped blood. He was up like a shot, slipping a shoulder under Harry's other arm to hold him up. "Hermione, go get somebody!" He could hear the high note of fear in his voice. "Harry, what happened?"
"Hedwig's dead," Harry said shortly, dropping the Firebolt to the floor. He didn't pull away from Ron, in fact, his knees almost immediately buckled under him.
Hermione clenched her teeth for a moment, and then stepped forward, hastily, wrapping her arms around the dark-haired boy. "I'm sorry," she said, wincing. "I-- look, Harry, you're hurt. We've got to take care of you before you--Merlin, look at all this blood. Where are you hurt? Apart from your face obviously?"
Harry allowed Ron and Hermione to lead him over to the bed. He sank heavily onto it, stared at the floor.

"I think my hand's broken," he muttered. "I got nicked on the arm. Oh, yeah, Marcus Flint, remember him? Big dumb guy, troll-like teeth? He's a Death Eater."
Ron felt a pang at Harry's news about Hedwig, but he tried to shunt it aside as he half-carried Harry over to the bed and deposited him there.

He snorted. "Wouldn't have expected that one, not in a million years. Flint, a Death Eater? Definitely surprised me." He said this as he gingerly inspected Harry's injuries. The nick on the arm was just that, but the hand was in a bad way. It was so purple as to be nearly black, and swollen out to nearly half again its normal size. He tried to move the fingers slightly, but Harry winced so deeply that Ron immediately moved his hand away. "Yeah, I'd say that's pretty badly broken, mate." He hunted around for a bit, came up with a handkerchief and started wiping the blood from Harry's face.
"Ronald, is that a clean handkerchief?" Hermione asked skeptically, as she looked Harry over.

"We're going to have to get you to a healer," Hermione said. "I-- I know the spells to use on this...but I wouldn't want to leave you deformed for life. The caricatures they've been drawing for the Prophet have been hideous enough as it is."

She swallowed. "And we've got to tell the Order about Marcus."
"We can't go to a healer," Harry said through gritted teeth. "You saw the Prophet. The second I stepped through the door, they'd be arguing over who got to turn me in."

He squeezed his eyes shut. Looking at his hand was beginning to make him feel nauseous. And Hedwig... laying at the bottom of her cage, eyes wide open...
"Well, I don't very well want you to die," Hermione answered sharply, her chin jutting out stubbornly. "Haven't we got anyone in the Order?"
Ron shook his head. "Nope. Not that I know of anyway." He looked at Harry's still-bleeding face with a very worried expression. "I think we might just have to try ourselves. Better that than risk getting hauled in by someone out for the reward."

He looked expectantly at Hermione. "So, can you or can't you?"
Hermione wrung her hands frantically. "I can write an essay about it!" she answered. "That doesn't mean I would trust myself with Harry's...face!"

She shook her head, flustered, so her hair clouded up around her head before she went to the fireplace. "I'm calling someone who does know," she informed them, as she knelt down in front of it.

"Fleur?" she asked, a moment later. "Fleur, Bill? Is anyone home?"
Fleur dropped the vase she'd been filling as she heard a familiar, and yet entirely unexpected voice issue from the fireplace, and there was a crash of glass shattering. Stepping around the shards she hurried over to the fire, an alarmed look on her face.

"Hermione?"
Hermione looked back at the boys, then nodded at the fire. "Fleur, we've got a...ah. Situation," she decided. "Can you come help us? We're at the shop."
Fleur gave a short nod. "Yes, of course," she answered, giving a quick wave of her wand behind her to the broken glass, which reformed into its original shape. Pocketing it, she stepped through the flames and into the shop.

Her eyes immediately sought out the boys, and she gave a small sigh of relief to find them all alive, if not well. "How can I help?" she asked, eying Harry with an small wince, "You three are all over the news, I'm still amazed you managed to get out alive."
"It's Harry," Hermione said worriedly, pointing to the boy. "He's gone and smashed his face in."
"Marcus Flint smashed my face in, thanks," Harry muttered. "And we've definitely decided my hand's broken." He looked at Fleur. "I can't go to a healer. The second I walk into St. Mungo's, they'll turn me into the Death Eaters. Can you help?"
Stepping further into the room, Fleur approached Harry's bed, perching gingerly on the edge, a slender finger gently coaxing Harry's chin up, surveying some of the damage before she answered.

"...I can't promise you the results a professional could, but I can help," she concluded, giving Harry a reassuring smile. "The hand will be a bit tricky without the proper potions," she admitted, "Any chance of a first-aid kit near-by?" she asked, giving a hopeful look to the others.

Ron looked around a bit desperately. "There's got to be, somewhere. Fred and George manage to hurt themselves all the time." He rummaged in cabinets, digging through everything he could find until he finally came up with a battered tin case about the size of a small valise. "Here, this looks like it."

He handed the case to Fleur and then turned his attention back to Harry. "How many of them were there?" he asked hesitantly.
"Just Flint," Harry said through gritted teeth. "But he got the drop on me. Turns out his favourite new curse is the Cruciatus."

He shook his head, the memory of Hedwig on the bottom of her cage rising to the surface.

"So,Doc," he said, looking at Fleur. "What can you do?"
Fleur beamed at Ron, taking the kit and rustling through it as the boys spoke. She unstopped one of the vials, sniffing it and handing it to Harry. "I should be able to get you feeling a bit more comfortable," she offered, handing him the vial, "Drink this," she instructed.

She carefully took Harry's hand, laying it out flat on the bed, trying to jar it as little as possible. "It should heal the bones, but you should keep them as still as you can until it's done," she warned, "With so many bones to heal just one being off set could do serious damage."

With a quick wave of her wand she disinfected the wound on Harry's head, which then preceded to close itself neatly, leaving little trace besides mild discomfort.

"You should probably have some chocolate too. It'll help with the after effects of Cruciatus."
Harry nodded. "All right. Hermione, do you have any chocolate in that bag of yours?"
"Do I have chocolate?" Hermione asked, huffing a bit as she started rummaging in the bag. "He asks if I have chocolate. Really, Harry, it's our first day and we're already dipping into the supplies. This is why you can't get hurt."

With a long-suffering sigh, she pulled out two bars of chocolate. "That, and that we'd all be terribly put out if something happened to you. Milk or bittersweet?"
Harry looked at Hermione over the top of his glasses. It made for a rather blurry, funny shaped Hermione.

"What, only two choices?" He managed a grin. "I'd think you'd have a whole big stash in there. Milk then." He held out his good hand.
Hermione smiled humoringly, unwrapping the chocolate to hand it to Harry. "Well, as long as we've all got a sweet tooth," she said, holding up the other bar. "Ron?"
Ron grinned, reaching out for the proffered chocolate. "Don't mind if I do. Thanks, Hermione." He tore off the wrapper and took a monstrous bite, grinning as he chewed. "'Ope oo've got mo'."

Swallowing the mouthful of chocolate, he turned back to Harry. "How're you feeling now?"
Fleur smiled to herself as the three fugitives spoke, packing away the rest of the first aid kit, setting it down on the table. She shook her head amused-ly at Ron's eating habits, gaze turning to Harry, curious to see how he answered.
"Weary," Harry said immediately. He gnawed on the chocolate bar, trying to finish off as much as possible in as few bites as possible.

The bed seemed to be calling out to him, telling him to have a rest.

"I just woke up, but I think I'll be going back to sleep now." He looked at Fleur. "Thanks for coming over."
Fleur smiled, nodding and rising from the bed. "You let me know if anything changes," she instructed, turning to Ron and Hermione, "If his hand seems stiff after a day two you'll need to give him another dose of the potion."

She pressed a small kiss to Ron's cheek. "And you all know you can come stay with Bill and I if need be, right?"
Ron blushed nearly purple at the kiss. "Oh sure!" he blurted, a stupid grin nearly a mile wide on his face. "Looking forward to it!"

The stupid grin belied his complete lack of comprehension of what everyone else in the room was surely thinking. But affected as he was by the near-veela's aura, nothing very much ended up registering with him.
Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's reaction, and then folded up the wrapped from Harry's chocolate bar and flicked it sharply at the redhead's ear. "That's very kind of you, Fleur," she said politely, "but we couldn't possibly dream of putting you all in that kind of danger. I've been thinking perhaps we'd better go...into hiding for a little while," she said, giving Harry a meaningful look.
Harry raised his head from the pillow, looked at Hermione. He started to question where, but the words died on his lips. The less Fleur knew, the less she could be held accountable.

"Yeah, thanks, Fleur. For everything. But we're not going to put you through that kind of trouble."
The chocolate wrapper to the ear had somewhat snapped Ron out of his idiotically-grinning torpor, and he now looked back and forth between Harry and Hermione, trying to figure out what exactly they were talking about. Of course, it was probably better for him if they didn't go to stay with Bill and Fleur, he thought. He still couldn't seem to keep her veela-charm from bowling him over if he was unprepared for it...

"Well, we do still have things we need to do, don't we?" he asked, focusing on Harry in particular. He didn't really want to mention Horcruxes, not with anyone but the three of them around to hear it. "So we ought to get back to that as soon as we can, no?"
"We will," Hermione answered, nodding to Fleur as the older girl said her goodbyes and left the trio alone once again. "Look," she said, eyeing her bag. "I have an idea..."