Harry Potter: Friendship is Magic
Part 1: The Flyer from Death
Author: Anisky
Concept by spikeslashrarity
Description: Hermione Granger is Dumbledore's private student, and she much prefers books to friends. But when she discovers an ancient prophecy predicting that Lord Voldemort will rise in two days, instead of taking action, Professor Dumbledore tells Hermione to supervise the preparations for the End of Term feast- and to make friends?
Disclaimer: I own nothing having to do with My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic or Harry Potter. I am not making money off this in any way and am just writing it for fun!
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Chapter 3
“Decorations,” Dobby proclaimed, as they entered the Great Hall. “Gorgeous!”
“Yes,” Hermione agreed approvingly, looking around the huge room. She was surprised to find that it actually looked good; she wouldn't have much to do at all. “The décor is coming along very nicely. We can just pop in quickly, and be on our way! I'll be at the library in no time. Gorgeous, indeed!”
“Not the décor,” Dobby said, in a strange, entranced voice. “Him!”
He pointed to the blonde wizard in Slytherin robes, who was flicking his wand expertly as the decorations flew this way and that.
Hermione gave Dobby a strange look as the elf smoothed out his clothes, pulling up his colorful mismatched socks and straightening his tea cozy.
Don't ask, she told herself. Any distractions mean more time until you get to the library.
So she ignored the house elf as she strode up to the blonde student, who didn't even seem to notice her as he flicked ribbons and jewels into the air and into a pile, or the wall, depending on their suitability.
“Excuse me,” she said.
“Oh, just a moment, please,” he sang out, without turning from his task. “I'm particularly inspired just now, I don't want to disrupt the creative flow, you know!”
He floated a deep emerald green ribbon in front of him, and with some complicated wand movements, it folded itself into a bow and placed itself on the wall. Silver sparkles completed the piece.
“Perfect!” he exclaimed. “Oh, I don't want to toot my own horn, but I am a genius, am I not? You know, it's true what they say, Slytherin colors really are the classiest. Green and silver, understated and subtle, yet festive. Now,” he said, turning to face Hermione, “how can I help--- AHHH!”
The wizard screamed and jumped backwards when he saw his companion's appearance.
“Sweet Morgana's tresses!” he cried out, rushing forward to inspect her from all angles, each one seemingly more horrifying than the last. “Whatever happened to your coiffure?!”
“Oh,” Hermione said, touching her bushy mane. “It's a long story. Suffice it to say, Harry Potter is to blame.”
“Oh, Potter!” The wizard scoffed, looking like he smelled something unpleasant. Hermione understood the feeling completely.
“Anyway, I'm just here to check on the decorations for the End of Term Feast, and then I'll just get out of your hair.”
“My hair?” The wizard exclaimed. “What about your hair?!”
Too late she realized that might not be the best choice of words, though she doubted anything would have kept him off for long.
“Come, darling!” he exclaimed, grabbing her hand and pulling her along after him.
“What? Where are we going?” Hermione asked, as she saw her chances to finish up quickly dwindle and vanish.
“Really,” she said, trying to pull away, “I have a lot of work to do.”
“But you can't go about looking like that!” the wizard protested, grasping her hand tighter. “It's... it's unprofessional! It will only take a moment to clean you up, really! Now, what's your name? I'm Draco Malfoy, Slytherin extraordinaire.”
“Uh, Hermione Granger, nice to meet you,” she said.
“Granger? Of the Dagworth-Grangers, perhaps, the great potioneers?”
“Uh...” Hermione had heard stories about the Slytherins, so to be on the safe side, she decided not to share too much. “I don't think so. But maybe.”
They came to a door and the wizard opened it and pulled her inside. The room was large, and filled with dress robes and cosmetics and every sort of beauty potion or hair conditioner imaginable.
“Is this your room?” Hermione asked. “Why does Hogwarts have a professional-grade dressing room?”
“Why, have you never been in the Room of Requirement?!”
She shook her head.
“It's a room that becomes whatever you need it to be, darling! It's ever so useful!”
The young witch's eyes widened. That did sound awfully useful. “Might it stock books if you wanted them?” she asked.
“Of course, it will have anything you want it to have! Except for food, for some reason.”
Hermione opened her mouth to explain why food couldn't be conjured from nothing, but before she could speak Draco had whisked her over to one of the stations.
“Now just lean back, I'm going to wash and condition your hair.”
“That's really not necessary--”
“Oh, sweetie, no, it really is.”
Hermione blushed, and just let him lean her chair back so her head was resting in a basin. It actually might have felt kind of good, if she hadn't been so impatient to finish up with the preparations so she could learn more about the Horcruxes of Harmony so she could stop the evil Flyer from Death from returning.
Once Draco was done with her hair (which, she had to admit, looked better than she'd ever seen it), he insisted on finding dress robes for her to wear to the next night's festivities as well.
“First, of course, we need to put on the right underthings so you know if everything fits. One never knows how a dress robe will fit with a corset unless one tries!”
“Corset?” Hermione repeated. “I don't know.”
“Oh, don't be silly darling, they're all the rage. Now, change out of those drab old work robes, and put on these!” He shoved a pair of knickers at her.
“You want me to take off my clothes?” she asked incredulously. “No!”
Draco giggled. “Don't worry about me, my wand doesn't spark for witches, if you catch my meaning.”
Dobby, who had thus far been staring at Draco in silent adoration, sat up straight when he heard this. His eyes began to shine with hope as his face cracked into a huge smile.
“Um,” said Hermione.
“Oh, if it bothers you so much, you can go behind that curtain there.” Draco waved her towards the dressing area. “And take this corset with you as well, you can hold it up to your front while I lace up the back.”
Hermione looked over at the door and pondered if she'd be able to escape if she ran. Professor Dumbledore would probably be very unhappy if she actually fled from the other students when she was supposed to be making friends, though, so she just sighed and went behind the curtain as directed.
A few minutes later she was regretting it, as Draco laced the corset and pulled it tight.
“I—can't--breathe!” Hermione gasped.
“Don't worry, just a tad bit more,” he said, and pulled it so hard Hermione was surprised her ribs didn't crack.
While she had been changing, Draco had gone around the room collecting possible dress robes for her to wear, and now he flicked his wand and floated several of them into the air.
“Now, what House are you in, darling?” he queried, as he floated around the room choosing various dress robes and jewelry. “You don't have to wear your House colors, of course, what would someone do if their coloring just clashed completely with them? But one should try to have at least accents and accessories to show your allegiance, in my opinion. So what are you? You seem like a Ravenclaw.”
“Actually, I don't have a House,” Hermione told him. “I'm Professor Dumbledore's private pupil.”
Draco gasped, and the floating robes nearly fell to the floor before he rescued them and guided them to nearby hangers.
“Really?” he cried. “I've heard of him doing that, but it's so rare! He only takes the most talented students as private pupils. Oh, I'm so envious! The magical power you must have, and the prestige! You simply must tell me all about it! Oh, we are going to be the best of friends, you and I!”
Hermione winced. There was that dreaded word again! Well, at least she could tell Dumbledore that she'd made a friend and be kind of honest...ish...
“And of course, you can wear any kind of color you want! You should be in something dazzling, something completely unique. But what?!” He ran around the room, considering and discarding robe after robe. “Nothing here is fit for the private pupil of Dumbledore! I'll just have to design something!”
“Er,” said the witch. “Well. I really do have a lot more work to do.”
“Of course dear, I'll just take your measurements-- no, leave the corset on, I want your measurements with it, silly witch-- and you can come back before the Feast for a fitting!”
“Oh, uh, won't that be a lot of work? You really don't have to do all that for me...”
“Don't be ridiculous, it will be my pleasure!”
Hermione slumped; well, as much as she could slump in the horrible, restricting corset, anyway.
Draco pointed his wand at her and said some incantations. A measuring tape flew up and measured everything that could be measured, from her waist to the length of each of her toes and the distance between her nostrils.
“Oh, I'll get started on your robes right away. They'll be simply divine!” he cried, apparently rapturous. He skipped lightly over to a workstation and transfigured a mannequin, presumably to Hermione's measurements.
“Quick, Dobby, undo the corset, before he changes his mind and wants to put even more things on me!” Hermione exclaimed.
Dobby was still sighing over Draco, but he obediently unlaced her corset. Hermione pulled on her clothes and work robe as quickly as possible, and fled the Room of Requirement.
“Shouldn't we at least say goodbye?” asked Dobby.
“No,” she said firmly. “If he remembers I'm here he might make me try on more things.”
The house elf reluctantly followed her out the door and down the hallway.
“Wasn't he lovely?” Dobby sighed.
“Uh, sure,” said Hermione.
“Oh no!” the elf cried suddenly. “I just realized, Miss Hermione and Mister Draco never decided on a time for the fitting tomorrow. If we could just pop back there--”
“No,” said Hermione, grabbing Dobby and yanking him away from the room. “If it's that important to him, he'll find me.”
She really hoped that Draco forgot all about making her dress robes, or that he would be unable to find her tomorrow. Of course she couldn't say so to Dobby.
“So what's next?” she asked him, hoping to take his mind off his new found crush.
“Music. It's the last one. It says we should go outside, next to the lake.”
“Oh, good. Just this and then I can get to the library, then! What kind of music is it?”
“The instructions don't say,” Dobby told her.
As they left the castle, Hermione could hear faint music, and it got louder as they neared the lake. It was strange, though, it didn't sound like any kind of music she'd ever heard. They must be using some obscure kind of instrument, she decided.
The source of the music turned out to be a witch in bright yellow robes, using her wand as a conductor's baton as she led... a group of songbirds?
Hermione stared at the bizarre sight.
The witch didn't notice anyone was there, but as one of the birds lost the tempo, she stopped all of them and went over to the errant bird.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said to the bird, “but your rhythm is a little off. Follow my wand for the beat, okay?”
It looked almost like the bird nodded, but it must have just been Hermione's imagination.
“Now let's start again. One, two, a-one, two, three, four--”
“Excuse me,” Hermione said, before they could start singing again. The witch jumped in surprise, and the birds scattered. “You do know that the only sentient birds are owls and phoenixes, right? Only those birds can understand you when you speak to them.”
“That's a very common misconception,” the witch said brightly. “But in fact, most birds are extremely intelligent, they just don't like to show it to wizards because they don't want to be put to work like the owls are.”
“Er, no,” Hermione said, “that's not true at all. I'm Hermione, by the way, I'm just checking on the music for the End of Term Feast.”
“I'm Luna Lovegood,” said the other witch. “And yes, it is true. My father recently wrote an article about it in our newspaper, the Quibbler.”
Hermione looked Luna up and down. The first thing that caught your eye was her extremely bright yellow robes, that had little pink butterflies embroidered on just a small patch. Her long, dirty blonde hair would probably give Draco a conniption-- in fact, Hermione wondered if maybe she could bring along this girl to the fitting. The fashion-obsessed Slytherin would probably forget all about Hermione in his frenzy to give Luna a makeover.
“Okay then,” she said, giving up on the point about the birds. “Well, it's certainly an unusual choice for music, but it sounds beautiful.”
“Thank you,” said Luna. She looked thoughtful. “Did you say your name was Hermione Granger?”
“Yes...”
“Where have I heard-- oh! I remember who you are!” Luna exclaimed. “You're the witch that Dumbledore is grooming to take over the Ministry with him once you help Harry Potter defeat the Dark Lord once and for all!”
“What.”
“Oh, don't worry, my father and I support it! I mean, You-Know-Who needs to be defeated, of course, and we assume you and Dumbledore would be much better rulers of Wizarding Britain than Minister Fudge is... though really, I have to say, I really do think a democracy would be best. But when you attack the Ministry, we won't stand against you, or anything.”
Hermione's mouth opened and closed, like a fish. “What-- who--” she sputtered. She collected herself and tried again. “What on Earth makes you think Dumbledore wants to take over the Ministry? Or that he wants me to help him?! Haven't tons of wizards asked him to run for Minister, but he's always refused?”
“Of course, that's all part of his conspiracy,” Luna said, in confidential tones. “But you know that.”
“No,” Hermione said. “Neither Dumbledore nor I have any interest in ruling Wizarding Britain.”
“Of course not,” Luna said. “Your goal is to take over the entire Wizarding World.”
Hermione nearly choked on her own saliva.
“Why in the world would you think that?!” she cried.
“Oh, my father found all sorts of proof. But I don't need to tell you, I mean, obviously you know that it's true.”
“No, it most certainly is not!”
“Oh. Right,” Luna said, with a wink. “I get it. You still have to deny it. No, you're not trying to take over the Wizarding World.”
She gave another, very exaggerated wink.
“ARRGH!” Hermione growled, tearing at her hair in frustration. (Draco would be angry later that she'd messed up her hairdo.)
“Oh, Hermione, could I please have an interview with you? Everything we know about you so far is hearsay, my father and I would be so happy to actually get to ask you about yourself and your opinions, as future co-ruler of the world.”
“For the last time, I am not going to take over the world!” Hermione exclaimed. “I'm not going to take over Magical Britain! I'm not going to take over anywhere, and neither is Professor Dumbledore!
“Now,” she continued, “it looks like your birds are back, so I guess everything's in order. Keep up the good work, and good luck getting that one bird to stick to the beat. Bye now!”
Hermione beckoned to Dobby and they turned to go, but to her dismay, Luna followed after her with a quick trot.
“No, wait!” the strange witch said. “We can do the interview while you walk wherever you're going, so it won't waste any of your time!”
“Don't you need to keep practicing with your birds?” Hermione asked hopefully.
“No, they're mostly ready, and I can clean everything up tomorrow,” Luna answered brightly. “So! What made Dumbledore decide to make you his protege?”
Though she was uncomfortable answering questions for this 'interview,' she couldn't just ignore the witch beside her completely. So reluctantly, Hermione answered.
“When I was nine years old I accidentally performed a very advanced piece of magic,” she said .
“But if an underage witch or wizard does magic, the Ministry is notified, not the Headmaster. So how did he find out?”
“They had to Obliviate a whole lot of Muggles and... do some other things to clean up. They needed me to learn how to control my magic at least a bit, for everyone's safety. They contacted Hogwarts to get an appropriate teacher, so Dumbledore came.”
“So it was the Ministry who told Dumbledore about you? And they know that he's teaching you privately?”
“Of course they know,” Hermione said, annoyed. “It's not exactly a secret, is it?”
“Hermione,” Luna said, looking very serious and troubled, “Have you considered that the Ministry has probably put a bounty on your head?”
Hermione looked down at Dobby and raised her eyebrows. He just shrugged at her.
The conversation went a lot like that for most of the walk back to Hermione's room. By the time she finally arrived, she was just about on her last nerve.
“Well, this was really interesting,” she said, “but I have a whole lot of studying to do.”
“What are you studying?” Luna asked. “Why don't you use the Hogwarts library?”
She sighed as she took out her wand and unlocked the door. “I do use the Hogwarts library, but I keep a lot of books it doesn't have in my own collection. Good luck with the music.”
But Luna rushed in through the door before Hermione could stop her. “No, I want to see where you live, see what books are off-limits to Hogwarts students!”
“They're not off-limits,” she said, as she entered the dark room and flicked her wand towards the lamps. “They just--”
“SURPRISE!”
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