A Problem With the Plumbing

A Problem with the Plumbing

by goingbacktosquareone

Written for the SIYE Reconstruction Challenge: October 2007

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Harry's been coerced into returning to Hogwarts to manage a reconstruction project of vital importance. Welcome to my fluffy version of how Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione find themselves in over their heads ~ literally.

PG - Comedy, Fluff, Humour - Warnings: None - Words: 8322

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Chapter One: In a Pickle

Harry lay dozing lightly on the bank of the pond at the Burrow, enjoying the soft breeze as it danced through his hair and cooled the perspiration glistening on his skin. The aroma of the pond tantalized his senses as he singled out the fragrance of fresh grass, pond water, what was surely a dead fish, drying mud and his own sweat from baking in the sun. He had spent the better part of the last two months in this same position, doing absolutely nothing but basking in the glory of being completely free and in the arms of the person he planned to marry.

Harry lifted his head to see Ginny floating in the middle of the pond on a Muggle inner-tube she’d nicked from her father’s shed, her fingers and toes delicately skimming the surface of the water as she catnapped, the sun’s rays bouncing radiantly off her wet hair as it dried against the black rubber. She was wearing a swimming costume he’d bought for her in Diagon Alley almost a month ago when he’d finally relented and made the trip to purchase his own rather than wearing Ron’s hand-me-downs.

That day they’d purchased a costume for each day of the week for both of them, Harry directing Ginny to his preferences from the safety of his Invisibility Cloak. Because he’d chosen to stay hidden from the prying eyes of the public, Harry had been completely unable to stop Ginny from purchasing the pair of trunks he was wearing at the moment: a pair of bright green shorts covered with big, yellow smiley faces. Harry felt ridiculous wearing them at first; however, the rest of the Weasley family had found them quite amusing and they’d quickly become his favourite of all the pairs he’d purchased.

Laying his head back in the grass, Harry sighed with lazy contentment, imagining what lay beneath the soft, green fabric of Ginny’s swimming costume. Purring with satisfaction as he fondly reminisced about their previous evening’s activities, Harry blinked with confusion when he felt someone nudge him in the shoulder. Trying desperately to focus on the dark, red-haired thing glowing above him, Harry squinted in annoyance and growled at the ill-timed intrusion.

“Mate, you need to get up,” said Ron as he regarded his bleary-eyed friend on the ground. “McGonagall’s Flooed for you twice this morning and she’s threatening to come and get you herself. Mum wants you to come and answer her before she goes spare.”

“G’way, Ron, you’re standing in my sun,” slurred Harry as he shooed his friend away. “She just wants to badger me into coming back to school next term. I’ve told her a thousand times I’m not going back,” he said dismissively as he shut his eyes and pretended to snore.

“I’m telling you, Harry,” urged Ron, “McGonagall’s not going away. She wants something.”

Harry ignored his friend. Instead he just smiled and waited until he heard Ron’s footsteps fade away across the paddock. Returning to his reverie, he quickly fell back to sleep — waking a short while later with an abrupt start as he heard the whoosh of a broom coming his way. Cracking his eye, he saw Ron hovering above him in a lather.

“I told you she was coming!” he said breathlessly. “McGonagall just came out of the fireplace and is crossing the garden as I speak! She doesn’t want you to come back to school next term! She wants you to come back to repair Hogwarts — TODAY!” barked Ron.

“What!” exclaimed Harry as he sat up and began pawing the grass beside him for his glasses. “I’m not going back to Hogwarts! Blimey!” he crowed. Wrapping his hand around his glasses, he slammed them down over his ears. “Wand, Ron…where is my wand?” said Harry desperately. “Oh bloody hell! I left it in the kitchen! Isn’t this just rich!”

“Why do you need a wand? I’ve got mine…” answered Ginny as she rose gloriously from the water.

“Merlin! Have I told you you’re perfect today?” exclaimed Harry as he stared dimwittedly at his girlfriend and then scrambled down the bank toward her. “Bubblehead…give me a Bubblehead, quick!”

“I can’t, Harry,” apologized Ginny in confusion, “Flitwick didn’t teach us last year. The Carrows wouldn’t let him because of all the Dungbombs going off in the corridors…”

Harry didn’t wait for Ginny to finish her explanation. Glancing back over his shoulder, he could already hear the faint voices of Mrs Weasley and Professor McGonagall as they made their way toward the pond. He grabbed Ginny’s wand from her hand, cast a Bubblehead Charm over his head and ran pell-mell into the pond — diving in with a fantastic splash just as the headmistress came into view.

Ginny stood dumbfounded, looking up at her brother who was still straddling his broom in the air, wondering why Harry was hiding in the middle of the swimming hole. Ron gave her “the look,” the universal Weasley expression used when one wasn’t supposed to ask questions, and turned round for the house. Still dripping and confused, Ginny was standing in the very spot where Harry had been sleeping when McGonagall came upon her.

“Miss Weasley,” greeted the professor, “it’s a beautiful day for a swim.”

“Yes, Professor McGonagall, it is,” answered Ginny as she used a towel to dry her hair. “Hi, Mum!” she greeted warmly as her mother joined them.

“Molly told me I could find Harry here with you. I don’t see him, though,” noted the professor as she keenly examined the area.

“Er, Harry?” stammered Ginny. “Haven’t seen him. I fell asleep in Da’s tube and he was gone when I woke up,” answered Ginny with what she hoped was a convincing smile.

“I believe Ronald just said he was out here,” countered the professor.

“He did?” said Ginny innocently.

“It seems this outline in the grass where we’re standing is a bit large for a girl of your stature, Miss Weasley. Wouldn’t you agree?” questioned the headmistress with a sweet smile as she gestured toward the Harry-print on the ground. “Really, please tell me. It’s quite important. Where is Harry?”

Ginny’s eyes betrayed her boyfriend as she inadvertently glanced at the pond. The quick-witted professor caught her mistake straight away and laughed out loud, patting her on the arm warmly. “I think I know where I might find him, Miss Weasley. Don’t worry,” she winked, “we’ll keep this between us girls,” she said as she nodded to Ginny and Mrs Weasley, who was hiding a smirk behind her hand.

“Ascencio Harry Potter!” shouted Professor McGonagall as she pointed her wand at the pond. A second later Harry came squawking from under the surface of the water, sea-weed wrapped about his legs, dripping, wide-eyed and flailing. “Wingardium Leviosa,” the straight-laced professor chanted with a wry grin, holding Harry high in the air before she summoned him toward her, dropping him with a squishing thud at the murky edge of the pond. She grinned deviously as she cancelled the Bubblehead Charm, shaking her head at the young man sitting splattered in mud a few feet in front of her. “Oh dear! I’m so sorry I didn’t quite get you clear of the water’s edge ¾ how thoughtless of me.”

Harry sat sputtering in the reeds, wiping dirt from his glasses, shooting a fierce glare at the woman in front of him. “Professor McGonagall,” he coughed, “fancy meeting you here.”

“It’s been a beautiful day for a stroll, Molly. Thank you so much for the tour of your garden,” McGonagall said as she turned to the Weasley matriarch. “I think I’ll take you up on your offer of tea. Harry,” she said, staring at the young man with her most grave expression, “you’ll of course be joining us, won’t you?”

“Yes, Professor,” sighed Harry dejectedly as he pulled himself up from the muck, gesturing rudely behind the headmistress’s back as she walked away from him. “This isn’t going to be good. I can tell already,” he said, cringing with distaste at Ginny.

“I wouldn’t stand there if I was you,” laughed Ginny, who turned and walked back toward the house, leaving Harry to the mud.

* * *

“Oh, no,” argued Harry, “I’m not going to lead the reconstruction of Hogwarts. Uh-uh. Why does it have to be me? I’m done with saving things!” he said as he tried to scoot out of the chair in a desperate attempt to dash through the kitchen for the stairway to the attic room he shared with Ron.

“Unfortunately it’s not that simple, Mr Potter,” the headmistress sighed. “I can see you’re not going to come without a bit of persuasion. Molly?” she said as she glanced over her shoulder at the woman standing at the stove. “I think it best we move this meeting back to my office.”

“Go get dressed, Harry dear,” Molly asked politely, even though Harry recognized her request was really a demand. “Ginny ¾ you, too. Ron, grab Hermione from the parlour. You’re all going,” she directed firmly. “There’s no reason for Harry to work alone while you lot laze about doing nothing.”

The two teenagers grumbled up the stairs to change, appearing minutes later freshly-combed and crisply-dressed, but not-at-all amused with the thought of a day-trip to Hogwarts. Ron brought Hermione to the kitchen, blathering excitedly about the possibility of being named as part of the reconstruction process in the forthcoming edition of Hogwarts, A History. Rolling his eyes at Harry, Ron leaned in and whispered, “She’s mental, that one. No one in their right mind should be this keyed up about manual labour.”

The quartet followed the headmistress through the Floo and was shocked to find her office had morphed into a construction command centre: blueprints and plans were stuck to all the open wall surfaces, small models of rooms littered the tabletops and rolls upon rolls of parchment with detailed punch-lists from every area of the castle lay strewn about haphazardly. The headmistress sighed at the mess and simply waved her wand, revealing four previously-buried chairs, motioning for the teens to sit.

Harry looked in aggravation at the headmistress but said nothing as he waited to hear why it was necessary for him to return to Hogwarts to aid in the reconstruction. Tap, tap, tapping his foot anxiously, he grew ever more impatient as Professor McGonagall regarded him from her desk.

“It seems, Mr Potter, we have a problem with the plumbing,” explained the professor staunchly.

“The plumbing?” repeated Harry dumbly.

“The plumbing.”

“You yanked me out of the pond to fix the sodding pipes?” said Harry in utter disbelief. “You can’t find someone better to fix the loos? The ‘Boy-Who-Finally-Did-It’ had to be called in to consult on Hogwarts’ sewage? Barking…the lot of you — barking mad…” he snipped, rising from his chair indignantly.

Ginny, Ron and Hermione sat with their faces downcast and sniggering in their seats, desperately trying to keep from laughing outright and angering Harry even more. It was obvious Harry wasn’t about to be persuaded into helping on such a prestigious project…aiding in the reconstruction of the Great Hall, maybe. Reworking the wards over the school, perhaps. Plumbing? Never.

“Sit down, Mr Potter,” McGonagall demanded sharply, causing Harry to drop into his seat without thinking.

Harry grumbled but obeyed. Years of tutelage under his head-of-house had taught him exactly when she had reached her limit of patience.

“It’s not as simple as it sounds. I didn’t bring you back because I wanted to. I brought you here because I had to. It seems Albus performed some pretty amazing magic with his wand over the years…much of it we weren’t privy to. That’s what leads me to the plumbing,” the headmistress stated blandly.

“When Headmaster Dippet was still over Hogwarts, the responsibility of dipping the honey pot, if you will,” McGonagall started distastefully, “was borne by the House-elves.”

Hermione gasped and looked as if she might swoon. “Surely not!” she started to argue.

“Patience, Miss Granger, patience,” McGonagall crooned. “When Albus took over, he relieved the elves of that duty by instituting a rather complex Banishing Spell so that the elves wouldn’t be forced into such dastardly working conditions. The problem we’re having now is that the Banishing Spell seems to have quit working, leaving us…well, rather in a quandary.”

“A quandary?” parroted Harry sardonically.

“Albus explained to me the mechanics of the spells he used on the plumbing when he told me you’d replaced the Elder Wand in his tomb. It’s going to take a rather powerful bit of magic,” said McGonagall, holding up the Elder Wand for Harry to see. “Since you’re the only one able to use this properly, it puts me in a bit of a pickle,” she said tartly, pursing her lips for dramatic effect.

Harry groaned loudly and sunk his head into his hands. “Let’s get this over with,” he agreed reluctantly.

Chapter Two: A Bad Job

“Mr Potter, this is Jebediah Puddinplace, our lead engineer for the Hogwarts reconstruction project,” introduced McGonagall as she ushered Harry to a very short, extremely rotund wizard wearing dark khaki robes; a yellow hard hat; knee-high, steel-toed work boots and a Muggle tool belt cinched precariously around his amazingly wide hips. In the tool belt hung a Muggle hammer, a straight-edge screwdriver, an old-fashioned corkscrew, a small cylinder of propane fuel, a tube of fireplace matches and a bottle of red nail polish bearing a label which classified its colour as I’m Not Really A Waitress.

“Yes, yes, yes,” gushed the engineer as he clapped his hands and beamed up at Harry. “Call me Jeb,” said the man as he grabbed Harry by the elbow, looking him up and down like one might size up the attributes of a dairy cow. “Y’know, you’re a wee bit smaller than I expected, but you’ll do,” he said happily, causing Harry’s jaw to drop at the wizard’s audacity.

“Charmed,” replied Harry, looking like he had just bitten into a vomit-flavoured Bertie Bott’s Bean. Harry shot an exasperated glance back to the headmistress, beseeching her once more to find a way to fix the plumbing without the use of the Elder Wand.

“Mr Puddinplace, Harry is joined by his friends Mr Ron Weasley, Miss Hermione Granger and Miss Ginny Weasley. I’m sure the four young people will work quite nicely together if you leave them to their devices,” manoeuvred the headmistress. “A word, Harry, if I may, before I return to my office?” asked McGonagall, beckoning Harry away from the group.

Harry loped over to the professor, not eager to hear what she had to say. He couldn’t believe he’d been saddled with the likes of Jeb. Scowling, he crossed his arms and shuffled his feet like a petulant child and stared at the headmistress. As he regarded the headmistress’s exhausted face, Harry immediately felt remorseful for his immaturity. The woman was clearly pushed to her limits.

“There are a few things we need to ask of you Harry, and then you’re free to return to your leisure at the Burrow. The most important is, of course, the plumbing problem. If you can’t fix that I suppose we’ll be forced to resort to chamber pots until the situation is resolved,” said Professor McGonagall, cringing.

“We also have a malfunction with the front gate. If you could please use Albus’s wand to determine the source of its problem and correct it if possible, I would be most pleased.

“If I may be so bold, I’d also like you to perform a personal favour on my behalf. I would like you to permanently seal the Chamber of Secrets,” said the headmistress sadly. “Even though the threat of the Basilisk is gone, I’m still very uncomfortable with the idea that a student may be able to gain access. Plus, the destruction in that bathroom is alarming. It’s very unsafe,” she said, shuddering.

“I can definitely do that,” promised Harry quietly, feeling horrible about his previous behaviour.

“Regarding serious matters, I have finished outlining my requirements for today,” continued McGonagall. “However, there are two more things you may wish to do for the sheer pleasure of being able to do so,” she added, cocking her eyebrow at Harry. “Every master builder who has worked on this castle has added a personal touch all his own. Some of these things have yet to be discovered. It would be a travesty if you didn’t leave your signature here today, Harry,” smiled the headmistress.

“Are you saying I can add anything I want to the castle?” asked Harry with a smirk. “And no one necessarily has to know what I added?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. It’s your discretion whether you choose to share your addition with the Board of Governors.”

“Wicked,” replied Harry. “I know exactly what I’m going to do!” he exclaimed with unbridled glee sparkling in his eyes.

“With a look like that, Mr Potter, I’m quite sure I don’t want to know what you’re up to,” said McGonagall with an uncharacteristic grin. “Before you run off in a thither, there’s one last thing: you may make an addition from the students’ suggestion box hanging outside the Great Hall. For my sake, please choose wisely,” she finished and then shuffled him off to rejoin his friends after giving him a sheet of parchment outlining the spells necessary to repair the plumbing.

Harry returned to his friends, who were bent over the Hufflepuff house table in the Great Hall, watching as Jeb pointed and gesticulated over a large roll of parchment which Harry could only assume was a blueprint of the castle’s waterworks.

“Ah yes, Mr Potter, finally. I’ve gone over the logistics of our problem with your colleagues and identified a point of entry, here,” he said, whipping out the corkscrew and utilizing it as a makeshift pointer, causing all four teens to make an immediate step back to avoid being inadvertently jabbed. “You should be able to follow the tile until you reach this collection pit, which is the centralized dumping station for the castle. Once you’ve reached this juncture, you can wield your wand and fix us up right quick.” Jeb took the print, rolled it up and handed it over to Harry with a flourish and a bow, winking as he straightened. “If you will, please return the print to me when you’ve finished the job. Good luck.”

The engineer replaced the corkscrew in his tool belt, used the claw hammer to scratch his left shoulder blade and then took a fireplace match from the tube and began to pick his teeth, muttering under his breath about kids and non-existent work ethics. The four teenagers stared incredulously as the little round wizard in the ridiculous get-up waddled away, leaving them to repair the castle with little-to-no direction. When the engineer had passed from ear-shot, Ron immediately began crowing about their assignment.

“That little duffer! I bet he doesn’t even have a wand!”

“Ronald, language!” chided Hermione. “The Board of Governors wouldn’t have approved him for this project if he wasn’t qualified.”

“Bloody qualified, my arse,” grumbled Ron, pursing his lips as he returned his attention to his friend. “So what’s up, Harry? Did McGonagall tell you what we needed to do?”

Harry spent the next few minutes explaining the projects the headmistress had given him. When he reached the bit about the covert addition and the requests of the students; Ginny, Ron and Hermione shared his enthusiasm.

“So what are you going to do?” asked Ginny with excitement.

Harry grinned at her deviously. “That’s for me to know and you lot to find out,” he teased. “Let’s grab the suggestion box from the corridor and get this plumbing fiasco out of the way. I don’t want to save the bad job for later.”

* * *

“Ugh, no wonder that little plonker didn’t want to come down here and fix the plumbing himself!” complained Ron for the thousandth time in five very long minutes.

Thankfully Hermione had the foresight to grab several old flannels from a bin as she left the Great Hall — she’d transfigured them into rubber waders so that the four didn’t have to ruin their clothes in the sewer pipe, saying she wasn’t about to ruin the Gucci loafers she’d received as a coming-home-from-Australia present from her parents.

Before crawling into the cistern, Hermione had placed a Bubblehead Charm over each of their heads since she was clearly the best of the four at wielding the spell. Within seconds of lighting their wands and gaining their bearings in the dark, dank pipe, Ron took on a deathly pallor, becoming uncharacteristically peaky…even for Ron.

“What’s the matter, Ron?” teased Ginny. “Smell getting to you? You’re looking a little nauseated. Maybe Hermione should lift the Bubblehead so you can have a good retch,” she snickered.

“I’m fine,” mumbled Ron, looking eerily like he did when he’d been wrapped around a pail, belching slugs. “Mum didn’t mention crawling down a sewer pipe when she said we had to help Harry.”

“You big baby,” crooned Hermione mockingly. “If I can do it then you can do it. Besides, it’s not safe for Harry to be down here alone. What if something happened and he hurt himself or there was a methane explosion? Who would help him?” she reasoned as they sloshed along the pipe.

“Methane?” asked Harry with growing concern. “No one said anything about methane.”

“What’s methane?” asked Ginny curiously.

“Well,” explained Hermione, “it’s a colourless, odourless, highly-flammable gas generated by organic matter during fermentation under anaerobic conditions,” she rattled as if the rest of the group would understand exactly what she was saying. Noticing her friends had stopped and were gaping at her stupidly, she shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes. “Good heavens,” she sighed in exasperation, “don’t you three ever read? Methane production by landfills, bogs, wastewater sludge and biodegradable feedstock is thought to be a major contributor to global warming.” Realizing she was getting nowhere, Hermione threw up her arms in disgust. “The decomposition of waste creates methane. Methane explodes. Explosions kill people. Can we move on already?”

“Hermione?” asked Ron cheekily.

“What, Ron?” huffed Hermione as she rounded on him, flourishing her bushy mane.

“I think you’re dead sexy when you rattle off meaningless, random facts like that,” he said dreamily. Hermione’s angry grimace melted into a look of sheer happiness as she blushed back at Ron.

Harry rolled his eyes as Ginny and motioned for the rest to follow. Within minutes they reached their target location and found themselves on the lip of a very large underground reservoir, in which swilled a polluted mass so disgusting Harry had to force himself not to look directly at it. Channels led in from every direction, dripping sludge and grey water into the pit with sickening, thick, plopping sounds; occasionally expelling short explosions of raw sewage into the cesspool from random directions.

“So all this has accumulated just since the Banishing Spell stopped working?” asked Ginny in disbelief, gagging slightly behind her hand.

“Could you imagine what it’d be like if school was in session?” thought Hermione out loud. “And the elves…what would it be like for the elves to have to come down here to dredge it out? We must fix this!” she exclaimed with fervour.

“Okay,” began Harry, pulling out the parchment McGonagall had given him. “Dumbledore suspects the Banishing spell was weakened and then slowly dissipated after the Elder Wand transferred its loyalty to me,” he explained as he read from the scroll by the light of his wand. “This is going to be tricky. Not only do I have to use the Elder Wand, I have to use my other wand simultaneously. I need to perform a Banishing Spell with the Elder Wand using my dominant hand while performing Disillusioning Spell on the contents of the pit with my other.”

“Have you ever used your left hand to perform a Disillusioning Spell, Harry?” asked Hermione.

“No, I don’t reckon I have. I should try it out once or twice, don’t you think?” he asked her.

Hermione pulled out several of the remaining flannels from her pocket, handing them over to Harry. “Try these,” she offered. “While you’re at it, you should try the Banishing Spell as well. You haven’t exactly had proper time to get used to using the Elder Wand.”

“Good idea, Hermione,” said Harry graciously as Ron and Ginny looked on. Harry tried the Elder Wand first, easily Banishing one of the flannels. “I reckon that’s pretty straight-forward,” he said. Then he pulled out his holly wand and waved it around a bit with his left hand, getting a feel for its movement in his hand. He cast a Disillusionment Spell on one cloth, diminishing its appearance only slightly. Frowning, he cast the spell again with a more-controlled movement and successfully removed the flannel from sight.

“I’m supposed to do those simultaneously? Blimey!” groaned Harry. Holding both wands, he practiced a bit before walking back to the edge of the tank. He looked back over his shoulder and shrugged, saying, “Wish me luck!” before brandishing the wands, sending two spells into the centre of the pit. The force of the spells sent Harry reeling as he stumbled backward and came to rest squarely on his behind.

“Wow…” breathed Ginny. “That was wicked,” she said, her eyes wide.

“Great job, Harry!” cried Hermione, pulling him up into a bone-crushing hug. “It’s gone! There’s not even anything dripping from the pipes! Even the smell is gone!”

“It is gone, isn’t it?” said Ron, whose pallor began to brighten. “You’re dead useful to have around, mate. Remind me to pull you along the next time mum wants me to de-gnome the garden,” he laughed. “It looked easy the first time with the flannels,” said Ron, “but I definitely think that wand is a major boost to your magic.”

“You don’t think?” deadpanned Harry with a look of annoyance. “Let’s get out of here before I’m tempted to push you into that hole,” he threatened.

* * *

After crawling out of the sewer pipe and Scourgifying themselves, the foursome proceeded to the front gate to assess its problem.

“The gate seems to have locked itself down,” said Harry, scrunching his face in thought. Turning to the walls and noticing the heavy spell damage they’d taken as a result of Death Eaters storming the castle, Harry narrowed his eyes and examined the area within thirty metres on either side of the gate. Waving the Elder Wand around a bit, the way he’d seen Dumbledore do in the cave, he was surprised when he felt several cold areas that seemed to emanate an aura of negativity.

“This is it,” deduced Harry. “The Death Eaters’ curses damaged the wall. The gate has completely stopped functioning in an attempt to protect the castle. If I can remove these areas of Dark Magic, I should be able to reset the wards around the gate, thus removing its confusion.”

“Confusion?” asked Ron.

“The school protects itself, Ron. I keep telling you to read Hogwarts, A History. When are you ever going to listen? It’s like a short in a wire. The Light Magic and the Dark Magic collided, locking down the gate,” explained Hermione.

“Short in a wire?”

“Never mind,” said Hermione as she rolled her eyes. “It’s a Muggle thing. I’m not going to spend all day explaining electricity to you. Ask your dad,” she sighed. Ron just cocked his eyebrow at her and gave her a typical sneer. “That expression is not going to get you what you want later tonight,” Hermione threatened icily.

Harry chuckled as his two best friends continued arguing and went about removing the areas of Dark Magic from the wall around the gate, pulling his girlfriend along with him with a conspiratorial wink. While he was at it, he pointed out the broken blocks and spots of crumbled foundation he found along the way to Ginny, who repaired them happily, grateful for time alone with Harry. Making their way back to the gate, he smiled when he realized it had unlocked itself, allowing the couple to open it and resume repairing the wall from the outside. When they’d finished their work and were satisfied the wall was sound, they re-entered the grounds and Harry reset the wards.

“Two down, three to go,” he grinned, and motioned everyone back toward the castle.

Chapter Three: Leave it to Luna

After returning the blueprints to Jeb in the Great Hall, inciting another round of spectacular growling about the nancy-boy engineer from Ron, the foursome took a break in the Room of Requirement, situating themselves around a low table in front of the fireplace. The House-elves had put on quite a show of delivering food, so the four friends munched happily while they sorted through the suggestions of the students.

“A cinema?” said Ron with a wrinkle in his chin. “Does that have something to do with pudding?”

Hermione and Harry both laughed out loud as Hermione reached across the low table and took the slip of paper from her boyfriend. “Not cinnamon, Ron ¾ a cinema. It’s a place where Muggles go to see movies,” she explained with a wry smile. Choosing another slip from the pile, Hermione laughed again. “This box is ridiculous. We’ll never find a decent suggestion here… Look at this one,” she pointed, “someone actually suggested a pub be opened for seventh-years! Ludicrous!”

Harry, Ron and Ginny looked back and forth at each other surreptitiously with thoughtful expressions while Hermione picked through the mound of slips, clueless the other three had actually thought a pub was a decent idea.

“Look at this one,” said Ginny as she crunched on a crisp then smacked her lips, rubbing them together to lick away the salt. “Saturday counter-portals to Flourish & Blotts, Honeydukes, Scrivenshaft’s, Gladrags, Madam Malkin’s and the Apothecary,” she said as she nodded and raised her eyebrows questioningly, indicating she thought the idea was worth considering. “Just think how much easier it would be to get the things we need, rather than having to go through our parents.”

“But then what’s the point of having an Owl-order service?” countered Hermione. “Besides, the logistics of something like that sound like a nightmare. We’d have to contact the shops, who’d then have to agree to have someone available to man the counter during the agreed-upon time, and there’d surely be long lines creating tension amongst the students… That’s why we have Hogsmeade weekends.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “So maybe it’s not the best idea. The concept is good, though. You have to admit that,” she said pointedly, glaring at Hermione as she gobbled another crisp, grumbling the words ‘Flourish & Blotts’ under her breath.

“What else is there?” asked Harry, becoming impatient. “Surely there’s something in the box we can use, isn’t there?”

Ron picked up another slip just as he was taking a sip of his pumpkin juice, immediately spraying the liquid across the table in a howl of laughter.

“Good Merlin, Ron!” gasped Hermione as she brushed the dripping juice from her robes. “Nothing can be that funny!”

“I think some bloke must’ve lost a bet on this one. Check this out, Harry!” said Ron, jabbing his best friend in the arm as he held out the slip for inspection. “Co-ed dorms and loos!”

“That’s not funny, Ron,” snipped Ginny, giving her brother a very Molly-esque glare.

“Really, Ginny,” answered Harry. “He’s serious ¾ it’s right here on parchment.”

“Why on earth would anyone want co-ed dorms or loos?” said Ginny with a disgusting face. “I’ve smelled your dorm room…it’s horrible. There’s not a person alive — definitely no witch alive — who’d subject herself to that torture. Blech,” she said, making a gagging sound, bugging out her eyes and poking her finger down her throat for emphasis.

“Wait a minute,” interjected Harry quietly, looking very uncomfortable. “It wasn’t that bad. I lived in that room, too.”

“Are you joking?” laughed Ginny. “One whiff of that room would be enough to banish the ghoul living above the attic. And sharing a loo?” Ginny shuddered violently. “I have six brothers and one father, thankyouverymuch. I know exactly what men do in the loo — none of it remotely pleasant to the senses or delightful to clean after they’ve vacated the premises. My vote is a resounding ‘NO!’”

As Ginny made her speech, Harry sat straighter on the sofa becoming paler with every word spoken. By the time Ginny finished her rant, Harry’s eyes were wide as saucers and he looked as if he might bolt from the room. Ron and Hermione noticed his reaction, trading knowing smirks.

“Say, Ginny,” said Ron conspiratorially. “You sound as if you’ll never want to live with anyone other than Mum and Dad, seeing that you’re so disgusted by the habits of growing men.”

“I didn’t say that!” huffed Ginny as she narrowed her eyes at her brother. “I simply said your dorm room smells like a basket of sweaty Quidditch robes, dirty socks, rancid sandwiches and Seamus Finnigan! And as for the loo, Ronald Weasley, you could at least use a Deodorizing Charm every once in awhile or splash an Aguamenti around the tub… There’s not a one of the lot of you who bothers to clean up your disgusting mess of hair in the drain once you’ve finished…” Confused about her brother’s amused grin, Ginny glanced over and noticed Harry was watching their argument with horror ¾ and realization of what he must be thinking dawned over her face.

“Oh, no…love, I didn’t mean you,” back-pedalled Ginny as Ron snickered across the table. “I wasn’t saying…” Ginny blushed as she blinked at Harry, who breathed for the first time since Ginny started raving.

“You said no witch in her right mind…” debated Harry.

“I said no witch in her right mind would want to live with Ron — there’s a huge difference. Your areas of the room were always very tidy. There’s no way those awful smells were coming from under your four-poster…”

“Hey,” drawled Hermione, “Ginny, I reckon you should stop while you’re ahead or you may be taking up residence in that tank with your brother,” she grumbled.

“I reckon we should just drop it,” growled Harry. “There has to be something in that box worthwhile.”

“Wait a minute. Here it is!” exclaimed Ron, who held the slip out for everyone to see:

“I propose we build an inter-house common room so that students from different houses may spend time in fellowship together outside the bounds of the Library, Grounds, Classes or Great Hall.

L. Lovegood”

“Leave it to Luna,” said Ginny with a gigantic grin. “That’s a fantastic idea! I bet she was really lonely over in Ravenclaw Tower.”

The four friends’ smiles faded for a moment as they contemplated their unique friend. Harry looked around the table resolutely and nodded his head. “That’s it. That’s what we’ll do. But there’s no way we can do that in one day. We’ll need McGonagall for that. We need to plan a room,” said Harry as he began ticking the items off on his fingers.

“We’ll need furniture and decorating,” added Hermione. “It would also be a great idea if McGonagall would allow a small snack bar for late-night study sessions, as long as the House-elves agree to the additional work…”

Hermione didn’t finish her thought. Ron tackled her the minute she mentioned adding access to food to the room. Wrapping her in a huge hug, he planted a wet kiss on her cheek. “I knew there was a reason I fancied you,” he gushed. “Brilliant, she is…I’ve snagged the most brilliant witch Hogwarts has ever known…”

Ginny raised her eyebrows at Harry and gave him a lopsided smile as she shook her head. “I was thinking it would be nice to include a memorial to everyone we lost in the battle…a plaque or something,” she said quietly. “To help us all remember why we pulled together to fight in the first place — and why it’s so important for us to stay together.”

Harry stood up and walked over to Ginny. Instead of tackling her the way Ron did Hermione, he pulled her up into a tight embrace and kissed her slowly, rubbing along her waist with one hand as the other reached up and pulled her hair from its loose braid, sinking itself deep in her long, crimson tresses. Ginny’s hands snaked their way around Harry’s neck and deepened the kiss, as she pressed herself firmly against him, causing Harry to groan. “Now I reckon that’s the most brilliant idea I’ve heard,” he said as he continued to nibble on her bottom lip. “Much better than food…”

Ginny sighed heavily into Harry’s chest as she heard her brother grumble from across the room. ““Keep it up and I might need a longer break,” she whispered into Harry’s ear.

Harry smiled and tweaked her nose. “Later, love,” he promised. Returning his attention to Luna’s suggestion, he pulled Ginny back to the table and the four figured out just what they’d need to go over with McGonagall in order to begin construction on the room.

“Lucky for me, this is something that won’t require the Elder Wand,” quipped Harry with a wicked grin. “But I do have something else that will. Ron,” said Harry, turning to his best mate, “how do you feel about altering the stairs to the girls’ dormitory?”

Hermione and Ginny both gasped at the same time. “No!” they breathed simultaneously.

“Oh, yes,” said Harry with a wink.

“Harry!” exclaimed Hermione. “You can’t do that! The Founders Transfigured the stairs for a reason! It’s for the girls’ safety!” she argued.

Harry blinked angelically at his friend. “Surely you don’t think I’d put the safety of hundreds of girls in question, Hermione?” he asked haughtily.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Just what are you on about?”

Harry looked to Ron. “Back me up on this, okay?” he said as Ron nodded his agreement. “Hermione, how many times have we needed you over the course of six years and been unable to get to you?”

“Tons,” answered Ron thoughtfully.

Hermione’s face softened. “Well, that’s hardly…”

“Really, Hermione,” continued Harry. “Think about it. How many times have we needed you in a life-or-death situation?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry, but it took her a moment to formulate a comeback. “Don’t you reckon you’re being a bit melodramatic?”

“No, I don’t,” answered Harry. “So this is what I’m going to do. After going with Dumbledore to the cave, I learned a bit about Blood Spells. The four of us are going to place a spell on the staircase so that any of our descendants who press a certain block will be able to override the staircase and the alarm,” explained Harry. “The way I see it, it’s going to be awhile before anyone can put that feature to the test,” he smiled.

“So you’re saying that anyone in our families — our children — will be able to do it?” asked Ron in awe.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I don’t have to tell McGonagall what I did today, either. And I don’t plan to. By the time our kids come to school, we’ll figure out a way to add this tidbit to the Marauder’s Map and the information will be passed down for generations to come,” said Harry with satisfaction. “We’re also going to figure a way to duplicate the Map so that there’ll be a copy for the Weasleys and the Potters.”

“How do you know that block will work in the future? I mean, further down the line?” asked Ginny. “Won’t the essence of our Blood Spell fade over time?”

“Not if it’s done with the Elder Wand,” answered Hermione with a malicious grin, reminiscent of the day she conceptualized the DA. Harry, Ron and Ginny laughed out loud at the twinkle in Hermione’s eye. “Let’s go and get this finished. All this work is wearing me out,” she said, laying her wrist over her forehead with a groan of mock-exhaustion.

* * *

“I can’t believe it took so long!” exclaimed Ron. “My head is killing me from the Klaxon wails…”

“It’s a good thing Harry figured out how to Silence the alarm,” said Ginny, rubbing her temples. “The alarm is funny when you hear it once or twice. Repeatedly over the course of two hours is somewhat grating to the nerves,” she groaned.

“I admit it was actually harder than I originally thought,” confessed Harry. “I figured I’d be able to go in and cast a few spells and be done with it. I hadn’t thought out the whole process, I reckon,” he said, rubbing the freshly-healed spot where he’d sliced his palm for the Blood Spell. “And engraving the tiny ‘PW’ on the block was actually a pretty nice touch, Ron. Thanks for suggesting it.”

“No problem. I reckon since it’s going to be a Potter and Weasley tradition, we should have our initials on the block, in case someone forgets which one it is,” reasoned Ron. “Just think, in a hundred years we’ll still be pulling pranks in Hogwarts…wicked!”

Hermione laughed and grabbed Ron’s hand. “Hopefully we’ll still be around in a hundred years to hear about it, too.”

A goofy grin spread over Ron’s face. “Yeah, hopefully we will,” he said dreamily as he looked at Hermione.

“You two are pathetic,” said Harry to Ron distastefully. “As much as you growl about Ginny and me, you’re just as bad,” he said. “Why don’t you two go ahead and go down to McGonagall’s office and tell her about the Common-Room idea? There’s one last thing I have to do before I can call it quits and I reckon it should be Ginny and me who do it.”

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry questioningly. “Are you sure, mate?” asked Ron. “What if it takes longer than you expect or you need extra help?”

“Nah,” said Harry shaking his head. “This is going to be pretty straight-forward. If it takes longer than I expect, go ahead and Floo back to the Burrow. If not, then we’ll meet you back in the Headmistress’s office.” Harry took Ginny’s hand and looked at her reassuringly. He still hadn’t told her what they had to do, but Ginny gave him a knowing glance.

“Go ahead, you two. This is going to be quick work,” promised Ginny. “By the time you’ve found McGonagall and start going over our plans we’ll be there to finish up. We might even be home in time for dinner,” she said, winking at Ron.

The mention of hot food was all it took to convince Ron to pull Hermione off toward the headmistress’s office. When the pair had rounded the corner, leaving Harry and Ginny alone, Ginny took Harry’s other hand and smiled up at him. “We’re going to seal that wretched Chamber, aren’t we?”

“And Ron says Hermione’s the brightest witch of our age,” grinned Harry with a sparkle in his eyes. “Would you like to help me destroy the entrance to that despicable hole?” he asked, bowing low.

“Why, of course!” answered Ginny with a curtsy. “I can think of only one better way I’d like to spend my time,” she winked, causing Harry to blush slightly. “And you can bet I won’t be doing that here in this school!” laughed Ginny merrily.

Harry offered his arm and escorted Ginny to the staircase, descending until they’d reached the second floor. “Wow,” he said as they reached Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, “McGonagall said there was heavy damage here but I didn’t suspect it was this bad.”

Ginny pulled the door open and saw the mirror behind the sinks was completely gone, smashed into shards that littered the floor. The wall of sinks were the malevolent tap had masqueraded was utterly destroyed, leaving a large, gaping hole that exposed the entrance to the long slide into the Chamber.

“Voldemort’s gone. The Basilisk is dead. The tap has been destroyed. There are no more heirs of Slytherin. The way I see it, we can seal up this hole,” said Harry with a questioning glance to Ginny.

“You don’t think we need to destroy the entire Chamber?” asked Ginny thoughtfully. “I mean, I do agree…I don’t think anyone is going to ever go down there again — or want to, even if he could.”

“To be honest, Gin, I am sort of worried about what destroying the Chamber would do to the school structurally. I’m no expert in architecture, but I don’t know if demolishing the Chamber is going to affect things up here. I’d feel better about just sealing it. I am going to be doing it with the Elder Wand, y’know. I’ll put some wards over it once we’ve finished. That way anyone who comes in here who may know about the Chamber will immediately forget why she was here,” said Harry.

“That sounds like a good plan,” agreed Ginny. “Maybe once you’ve finished we should just seal the whole room. Tell McGonagall to say there’s a problem with the plumbing…”

“That’s probably not a bad idea. I don’t reckon Myrtle will want to stay in here now, anyway,” said Harry. “I think she’ll be happier terrorizing the boys in the Prefect’s bathroom. I say we’re doing her a service,” he winked. Raising the Elder Wand, he began to work spells into the opening until the hole was sealed. Using Reparo, he replaced the mortar-work and tile over the gap, hiding the evidence of the Chamber’s existence. Finally, he cast the most powerful wards he could remember over the room, mentally thanking Hermione for her expertise in the forest.

“That should do it,” said Harry. “What do you think?” he asked, turning to Ginny for an inspection of his work.

“I think it looks like an ordinary loo,” responded Ginny with a smile.

“Then let’s get out of here,” teased Harry. “Don’t we have other things we could be doing?”

* * *

Harry lay dozing lightly on the bank of the pond at the Burrow, enjoying the soft breeze as it danced through his hair and cooled the perspiration glistening on his skin. Harry sighed with lazy contentment as he fondly reminisced about his previous evening’s activities with Ginny, and then blinked with confusion when he felt someone nudge him in the shoulder. Trying desperately to focus on the dark, red-haired thing glowing above him, Harry squinted in annoyance and growled at the ill-timed intrusion.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” slurred Harry as he shooed his friend away. “She just wants to tell me something about the Common-Room,” he said dismissively as he shut his eyes and pretended to snore.

“I’m telling you, Harry,” urged Ron, “McGonagall’s not going away.”

“I sent Ron after you!” she admonished. “McGonagall says they’re about to set the memorial stone in the Common-Room. She wants us all to be there when it’s done. That means you need to get off your arse — TODAY!” barked Ginny.

“Bloody hell, woman!” exclaimed Harry as he sat up and began pawing the grass beside him. Wrapping his hand around his glasses, he slammed them down over his ears. Smiling up at Ginny, he gave her an evil wink. “When we get back do I get the same treatment I did the last time?”

“We’ll see,” she smirked and whooshed away back to the house, leaving Harry to watch her fly away.

~ end ~