Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Let's Try That Again, Shall We?
Squirrels and Bones
0 reviewsFred and George at quidditch practice; some of Dumbledore's thoughts. Short.
3Original
The Harry Potter universe is the creation of J.K. Rowling. This is fanfiction. The standard disclaimers apply.
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Chapter 21: Squirrels and Bones
Friday, October 19, 1990
The autumn leaves were at their peak of color, and the forests of Scotland were a sea of red and gold, as the twins went through Charlie's exercises. It occurred to Fred and George that, had they actually played quidditch in the woods, the season would give a distinct advantage to their red-and-gold Gryffindor robes. At least, it would if they were moving silently, which they weren't, as they tried to aim the lightweight practice bludger at actual moving targets.
The are many predators and natural hazards which the North American grey squirrel is well-adapted for dealing with. Wizards on brooms are not one of these, nor are self-propelled flying balls.
The best strategy from a squirrel's perspective, although not necessarily the one they reliably adopted, was to retreat from the bludger into a hole small enough that the ball could not follow. Given that most squirrels had not memorized which hiding places were precisely the right size, occasionally the twins would manage to hit the bludger in after, resulting in several seconds of rattling, banging, and snarling, before the squirrel would launch itself out of the hole at top speed. It only took one instance of an angry, panicked squirrel landing on George's head and digging its claws into his scalp before the twins learned not to fly right up and look inside holes they had sent the bludger into (just in case, Charlie later suggested that sticking their arms into the holes was a similarly Poor Idea).
This was the sort of thing Hagrid was unable to do himself, being too big for a broom, and having to rely for flying on the far less maneuverable motorcycle he had on indefinite loan from Sirius. Nevertheless, he was following along on foot, laughing harder than he had in months.
Several spells existed for extracting animals from holes. Hagrid had suggested to Charlie that he teach some to the twins, but eventually agreed that the knowledge would inevitably end up being misused. While he usually wouldn't consider "trust me, I'm a Weasley" to be a reassuring argument, it seemed reasonable enough this time.
Over the years, Charlie had chased after a variety of birds, usually not bothering to justify it as quidditch practice, even though it was entirely relevant for a seeker. He had flushed partriges and plovers form the scrubby hills near the castle, and woodcock from the muddy creeks that ran down valleys in the forest. As a child he had nearly been speared by an angry heron hunting in a neighbor's koi pond. The best of all, from the point of view of seeker practice, were the wild pigeons which, lacking the tameness of their urban cousins, would fly with wild abandon through the forest canopy as Charlie came hurtling after them. Moving silently on his broom, he had once almost managed to capture a thrush which he had found only by following its song, and on several occasions he had gotten caught in thorn bushes into which terrified finches had retreated. Mostly he refrained from actually snatching them, and when he did, he rarely had the heart to prolong their fluttering panic, holding them only as long as it would take a seeker to be credited with a catch.
So Charlie was happy to find a non-lethal solution to Hogwarts' squirrel problem. Unfortunately it then became Hogsmeade's problem, and squirrels driven over the school walls could just as easily come back.
In any case, Charlie hoped that there would be positive, or at least entertaining, side effects to aiming the twins at an animal that they were free to harass. Neither had actually checked personally, but he and Hagrid assumed that squirrels weren't banned items, and the two of them secretly had a bet of a sickle running on whether squirrels would be found within the castle itself by the end of the month. There were still nearly two weeks left, and it was a bet Hagrid secretly hoped to lose. In fact, if he thought he could get away with it, Hagrid would have unhesitatingly offered the twins a bounty for every squirrel they could sneak into Filch's office. Betting against them was the closest he could come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Albus Dumbledore did not relish the idea of desecrating a grave, but after doing his own research, eventually concluded that the bones of Tom Riddle, Sr. would be very helpful for Voldermort's resurrection, and consequently could not be safely left as they were. And so he was standing in the Riddle plot of the Little Hangleton graveyard, brushing moss, lichen, and dirt off of headstones until he found what he was looking for. He had contemplated whether Voldemort would have thought to rearrange the graves at some point, but looking forward to actual ressurection rituals seemed unlike him. The dark lord was too frightened of death—unwilling to confront his own mortality—, and contemplating even the prospect of becoming a disembodied spirit would necessarily have involved admitting that something might befall him which would truly kill a person without a horcrux.
No, Dumbledore thought, as he started his digging spell, Voldemort could sometimes be a careful plotter, but he was not a sane one, and this was an exploitable weakness. On the other hand, that same insanity made him and his followers unpredictable opponents, forcing defensive resources to be spread thin.
Lately Albus had been spending a considerable amount of time deploying those resources, as he tried to make up for the loss of the blood wards protecting Harry. Augusta had at least cooperated with him fully when it came to structuring the wards on Longbottom Manor, but overall he was having mixed success when it came to securing other places Harry might want to go. Augusta had agreed with him that the materials for this could be paid for out of Harry's trust; relative to the overall assets in it, the cost of even state-of-the-art anchor stones was a negligible expense.
Frustratingly, Arthur and Molly Weasley, too proud to accept something so valuable, had point-blank refused his offers to have wards set up on the Burrow, leaving them with nothing stronger than locks on their doors and windows. Remus was not much better -- he simply did not conceive of himself as relevant to the situation, despite his closeness to Harry's parents, and it was a good day if Dumbledore got the man to answer a letter or floo call. Eventually it was going to take a considerable amount of his time to sit down with these people and personally convince them to go along with his plans.
On Augusta's suggestion he had approached Xenophilius Lovegood, whose daughter seemed to be making friends with Neville. Perhaps because of the recent loss of his wife, Xenophilius stayed nervously out of the way of Dumbledore and a small team of Order members, letting them do whatever they pleased with the property. Dumbledore had hoped the Weasleys would feel some pressure as a result of this, but so far only Neville had wanted to visit Luna, and Ron had been happy to visit Longbottom manor, where he subjected a somewhat overwhelmed Harry to impromptu quidditch lessons.
Another thing that frustrated Dumbledore was the limitations of existing wizarding social circles which he could conceivably manipulate into positive influences on Harry. Existing wizarding families tended not to have a lot of children, resulting in a large percentage of wizards being muggleborn. These weren't ordinarily identified until they approached Hogwarts age, and so they weren't available to Dumbledore yet, either.
He was similarly stymied by the fact that gender roles cut his pool of candidates in half. Amelia had explained to him, slowly, carefully, and with a great deal of amusement, that little boys and girls were not usually socialized to know how to play with each other, that Luna was special, and that Ginny had six brothers and a crush on Harry. Susan was a sweet girl who grasped the political implications of things, but she was clearly at a loss as to what to do with boys. Amelia had made some valid points. "Albus, it just wouldn't work to have Harry invited to a sleepover with Susan and Hannah. Or at least, it wouldn't work the way you are hoping." Dumbledore had dropped the issue.
These were the things that occupied his mind as he pulverized the disinterred bones of Thomas Riddle, Sr., replaced the now alchemically useless powder in the grave, and covered his tracks as best as he was able. He left a glamor over the grass that he would periodically renew until it had grown back in place, and apparated back to Hogwarts.
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
Author's note:
The first section contains a reference to a song the Scottish poet Robert Burns wrote when he was about Charlie's age; it was the first thing I thought of when I wanted a list of birds for Charlie to harass. Give your house five points if you caught the reference, and another two if you noticed this chapter was uploaded on the poet's birthday, which Scots the world over celebrate by talking to their food.
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
Chapter 21: Squirrels and Bones
Friday, October 19, 1990
The autumn leaves were at their peak of color, and the forests of Scotland were a sea of red and gold, as the twins went through Charlie's exercises. It occurred to Fred and George that, had they actually played quidditch in the woods, the season would give a distinct advantage to their red-and-gold Gryffindor robes. At least, it would if they were moving silently, which they weren't, as they tried to aim the lightweight practice bludger at actual moving targets.
The are many predators and natural hazards which the North American grey squirrel is well-adapted for dealing with. Wizards on brooms are not one of these, nor are self-propelled flying balls.
The best strategy from a squirrel's perspective, although not necessarily the one they reliably adopted, was to retreat from the bludger into a hole small enough that the ball could not follow. Given that most squirrels had not memorized which hiding places were precisely the right size, occasionally the twins would manage to hit the bludger in after, resulting in several seconds of rattling, banging, and snarling, before the squirrel would launch itself out of the hole at top speed. It only took one instance of an angry, panicked squirrel landing on George's head and digging its claws into his scalp before the twins learned not to fly right up and look inside holes they had sent the bludger into (just in case, Charlie later suggested that sticking their arms into the holes was a similarly Poor Idea).
This was the sort of thing Hagrid was unable to do himself, being too big for a broom, and having to rely for flying on the far less maneuverable motorcycle he had on indefinite loan from Sirius. Nevertheless, he was following along on foot, laughing harder than he had in months.
Several spells existed for extracting animals from holes. Hagrid had suggested to Charlie that he teach some to the twins, but eventually agreed that the knowledge would inevitably end up being misused. While he usually wouldn't consider "trust me, I'm a Weasley" to be a reassuring argument, it seemed reasonable enough this time.
Over the years, Charlie had chased after a variety of birds, usually not bothering to justify it as quidditch practice, even though it was entirely relevant for a seeker. He had flushed partriges and plovers form the scrubby hills near the castle, and woodcock from the muddy creeks that ran down valleys in the forest. As a child he had nearly been speared by an angry heron hunting in a neighbor's koi pond. The best of all, from the point of view of seeker practice, were the wild pigeons which, lacking the tameness of their urban cousins, would fly with wild abandon through the forest canopy as Charlie came hurtling after them. Moving silently on his broom, he had once almost managed to capture a thrush which he had found only by following its song, and on several occasions he had gotten caught in thorn bushes into which terrified finches had retreated. Mostly he refrained from actually snatching them, and when he did, he rarely had the heart to prolong their fluttering panic, holding them only as long as it would take a seeker to be credited with a catch.
So Charlie was happy to find a non-lethal solution to Hogwarts' squirrel problem. Unfortunately it then became Hogsmeade's problem, and squirrels driven over the school walls could just as easily come back.
In any case, Charlie hoped that there would be positive, or at least entertaining, side effects to aiming the twins at an animal that they were free to harass. Neither had actually checked personally, but he and Hagrid assumed that squirrels weren't banned items, and the two of them secretly had a bet of a sickle running on whether squirrels would be found within the castle itself by the end of the month. There were still nearly two weeks left, and it was a bet Hagrid secretly hoped to lose. In fact, if he thought he could get away with it, Hagrid would have unhesitatingly offered the twins a bounty for every squirrel they could sneak into Filch's office. Betting against them was the closest he could come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Albus Dumbledore did not relish the idea of desecrating a grave, but after doing his own research, eventually concluded that the bones of Tom Riddle, Sr. would be very helpful for Voldermort's resurrection, and consequently could not be safely left as they were. And so he was standing in the Riddle plot of the Little Hangleton graveyard, brushing moss, lichen, and dirt off of headstones until he found what he was looking for. He had contemplated whether Voldemort would have thought to rearrange the graves at some point, but looking forward to actual ressurection rituals seemed unlike him. The dark lord was too frightened of death—unwilling to confront his own mortality—, and contemplating even the prospect of becoming a disembodied spirit would necessarily have involved admitting that something might befall him which would truly kill a person without a horcrux.
No, Dumbledore thought, as he started his digging spell, Voldemort could sometimes be a careful plotter, but he was not a sane one, and this was an exploitable weakness. On the other hand, that same insanity made him and his followers unpredictable opponents, forcing defensive resources to be spread thin.
Lately Albus had been spending a considerable amount of time deploying those resources, as he tried to make up for the loss of the blood wards protecting Harry. Augusta had at least cooperated with him fully when it came to structuring the wards on Longbottom Manor, but overall he was having mixed success when it came to securing other places Harry might want to go. Augusta had agreed with him that the materials for this could be paid for out of Harry's trust; relative to the overall assets in it, the cost of even state-of-the-art anchor stones was a negligible expense.
Frustratingly, Arthur and Molly Weasley, too proud to accept something so valuable, had point-blank refused his offers to have wards set up on the Burrow, leaving them with nothing stronger than locks on their doors and windows. Remus was not much better -- he simply did not conceive of himself as relevant to the situation, despite his closeness to Harry's parents, and it was a good day if Dumbledore got the man to answer a letter or floo call. Eventually it was going to take a considerable amount of his time to sit down with these people and personally convince them to go along with his plans.
On Augusta's suggestion he had approached Xenophilius Lovegood, whose daughter seemed to be making friends with Neville. Perhaps because of the recent loss of his wife, Xenophilius stayed nervously out of the way of Dumbledore and a small team of Order members, letting them do whatever they pleased with the property. Dumbledore had hoped the Weasleys would feel some pressure as a result of this, but so far only Neville had wanted to visit Luna, and Ron had been happy to visit Longbottom manor, where he subjected a somewhat overwhelmed Harry to impromptu quidditch lessons.
Another thing that frustrated Dumbledore was the limitations of existing wizarding social circles which he could conceivably manipulate into positive influences on Harry. Existing wizarding families tended not to have a lot of children, resulting in a large percentage of wizards being muggleborn. These weren't ordinarily identified until they approached Hogwarts age, and so they weren't available to Dumbledore yet, either.
He was similarly stymied by the fact that gender roles cut his pool of candidates in half. Amelia had explained to him, slowly, carefully, and with a great deal of amusement, that little boys and girls were not usually socialized to know how to play with each other, that Luna was special, and that Ginny had six brothers and a crush on Harry. Susan was a sweet girl who grasped the political implications of things, but she was clearly at a loss as to what to do with boys. Amelia had made some valid points. "Albus, it just wouldn't work to have Harry invited to a sleepover with Susan and Hannah. Or at least, it wouldn't work the way you are hoping." Dumbledore had dropped the issue.
These were the things that occupied his mind as he pulverized the disinterred bones of Thomas Riddle, Sr., replaced the now alchemically useless powder in the grave, and covered his tracks as best as he was able. He left a glamor over the grass that he would periodically renew until it had grown back in place, and apparated back to Hogwarts.
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
Author's note:
The first section contains a reference to a song the Scottish poet Robert Burns wrote when he was about Charlie's age; it was the first thing I thought of when I wanted a list of birds for Charlie to harass. Give your house five points if you caught the reference, and another two if you noticed this chapter was uploaded on the poet's birthday, which Scots the world over celebrate by talking to their food.
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