Toppers Wallow

Sunday morning and, in their Hogwarts apartment, too slightly groggy professors showered under very hot water; carefully washing off what colour had not stained their skin. They dressed and clambered through the portal into the sound of church bells. Ron and Hermione followed them, having appeared from their flat above.



Ginny and Daphne came out to join the quartet as they wandered up the lane, looping their arms into the Blakes’ elbows, as usual.



“Are you sure you two are all right?” Daphne looked worried, so did Ginny.



“Would you like us to lean heavily on your arms, looking pale and interesting?” quipped Draco, demonstrating the lean and almost bringing Daphne to her knees.



Harry looked at Ginny with a calculating smile.



“Don’t you dare, Mr Potter! I shall let you fall if you do.”



Harry smiled, inwardly warning Draco. He began to sham rubbery knees. Ginny quickly developed mothering instincts and grabbed Harry to support him. He straightened up, grinning. She retaliated by smacking his bum hard. All four of them straightened their grinning faces as they entered the church porch.



This time the sextet climbed the stairs and took seats in the side balcony. During a lull in the service Harry looked around, counting heads. He realised that every DS Member was there. Perspicacious Hermione noticed him noticing.



“The members want a meeting immediately after church,” she whispered. “There are enough others to play football or netball, so we won’t be missed.”



“Okay!” Harry was about to ask what about, when John called the start of the prayers.



“Dear Parishioners, let us thank God for all the saints. Those who gave up their lives for the faith … Those who laboured-on when they were opposed by force … Those who helped others, unsung and unknown … Those who quietly went about doing good and not being thanked … Those who stood-firm and led Christ’s army … Those whose erudition taught the church and its people … Those who shut themselves away to pray for the salvation of mankind … Those who endured torture for the cause of righteousness … Those who rescued others from appalling straits … For all the saints, let us thank the Lord.



“THANKS BE TO GOD!” was the congregation’s reply. Draco and Harry mentally added the names of the Smiling Ones.



During the distribution, the woodwind quartet played a version of Schubert’s Ave Maria. Harry noticed one or two people with exalted looks and a couple with tears in their eyes. Service over, that couple went to the Smiling Ones and thanked them for such a beautiful rendition of one of their favourite tunes



In the porch, as the Blakes shook hands with John, he asked: “Dear Boys, would you help out next Sunday please? You see it’s Remembrance Sunday and we have most of the service round the War Memorial. Perhaps you would like to read out the names of those recently fallen in the battles Augusta has told me about. Hamish says he will do so on behalf of the goblins and Kreacher has agreed to remember the elves.”



Harry hesitated, as always. So Draco agreed to read their list.



As soon as the Blakes arrived at home they found the entire membership of the Dumbledore Society sitting round a big table in the patio. This had been made up of all the other tables pulled together. Once Harry and Draco were seated, Seamus began:



“Fellow Members, it has come ter our notice that four young wizards have given exemplary service in rescuing our chairman and his fellow wizard from a fate worse than death. We are all cognisant with the facts by now and I would like ter propose Crassus Urquhart, Honorius Harper, Mordant Bletchley and Septimus Cresswell as fit ter become members of our honourable society.”



“We support that motion.” Ginny and Daphne stood.



The only member who did not stand was Luna, who looked mystified. A hasty whispered conversation with Neville soon remedied that position. Gregory was asked to get the four Smiling Ones. Whilst they were waiting various members donated normal galleons; out of which Hermione charmed four new medallions.



Not having divulged the purport of their calling, Gregory arrived back with four curious instrumentalists in tow. They stood nervously at the foot of the table until Gregory drew up chairs for them.



Everyone having seated themselves, Ron stood: “Crassus, Honorius, Mordant and Septimus; very recently you have rendered this society, magicdom and the Muggle world a great service. In recognition of that we would like to offer you Membership of the Dumbledore Society. In accepting, you sign the formation document which magically binds us to you and you to us forever. How say you?”



There was an interval whilst the four Smiling Ones conversed in whispers.



‘I didn’t know Ron could do formal,’ sent Draco.



‘Neither did I,’ was his lover’s astonished mental reply.



The Smiling Ones stood and faced the assembly.



“WE, CRASSUS, HONORIUS, MORDANT AND SEPTIMUS, ACCEPT YOUR KIND OFFER OF MEMBERSHIP, AND PROMISE TO UPHOLD THE DUMBLEDORE SOCIETY AND ITS MEMBERS FOREVER.”



Hermione produced the parchment and the four new members signed below their compatriot Slytherins’ names. Harry presented them with their galleons and Draco explained how they worked. Everyone crowded round congratulating them followed by the whole company setting off to the Farmers Arms for a celebratory lunch.



“He was naked when you helped us out of the dungeon. What did you do with Theo?” Harry asked, as the group walked to the pub.



“We muted him, painted him all over in contrasting stripes, tied him to his broomstick, wrapped him in brown paper, poked breathing holes in it and addressed the parcel to Malfoy Manor. We called a few owls and gave the quivering packet to them for delivery,” explained Crassus.



“A funny thing happened next, Draco.” Honorius added. “Your Regent came and started twittering at us. A big bird that is, not one to argue with. He looked at us and appeared to be saying something, the other owls helped him take off and then he went solo.”



Harry looked intrigued. “Mordant, can you mimic what Regent said, please?”



“Err … he didn’t speak, Professor, it was a series of squawks and clicks.”



“Okay, could you mimic them reasonably accurately for me, please? Um … Yes! While we are just DS Members together, you must all call us Harry and Draco, please.”



Mordant’s mouth fell open. “Are you sure?”



“Yes Mort,” came Draco’s smiling reply, “quite sure.”



Mordant thought for a minute. He mimicked a series of twitters and clicks at Harry, who asked him to repeat it.



“Thank you. As far as I can make out, Regent wanted to get his own back, as Theo had tried to pull his tail feathers out in order to spite Draco. There was also something about making the Master sweat, but that part was not too clear.”



The four new members looked astounded.



Draco stepped in. “You already know Harry is a Parselmouth, well, replace hisses with clicks and he can converse with owls too.”



“OH RIGHT!” They still looked at Harry, but with the smiling admiration that had got them their group nickname.



Harry and Draco had a problem after lunch in the shape of four drunken woodwind players. Because the DS Members had bought them thank you drinks; the Smiling Ones had feared they might hurt someone’s feelings if they refused. They had to be Levicorpussed back to Magnet Cottage and into the four-bunk room. There, Kreacher administered healthy doses of yellow sober-up potion to them. Thanks to his good offices and them paying frequent obeisance to the loo, they were as right as rain by dinnertime, if a little pale.



At Dinnertime Francis, Ginny and Daphne formed a giggle group, encouraging Draco and Harry to join them.



“Did you know that I have five connections to the Blake/Black family?” Ginny giggled. “Daphne has four, as well. You father’s pure-blood thing is a lot of nonsense when you look back in history, Draco.”



“I agree; Francis has shown me some of the papers. To think that Aunt Bellatrix made so much show about being a Black when she was really an Arthur really underlines it. Thinking back to the Malfoy family tree, there were some blurred connections there too. If ever I inherit I shall have great fun editing it. Hermione’s a great example how magic chooses its vessel. Her brain’s better than mine and she’d be stronger than me too. That is, if Harry and I weren’t paired. Her mirror spells are new, great and very effective.” Draco looked at a blushing Hermione and winked.



Harry looked at his red faced friend. “Um … Hermione? Those enchanted sacks … They seemed to have a mirror charm on the inside … Any ideas?”



“I think you’re chatting-up my girl-friend, Mr Malfoy.” Ron interrupted and tried to look belligerent.



“One may admire a thing of beauty, Mr Weasley, without wanting to climb into bed with it. As you already know, my heart lies in another’s breast.”



“Oh! I’m a thing to you now, Mr Malfoy. How degrading. Firstly you compliment me and then insult me. How is a poor girl to know where she stands?” Hermione looked tearful.



“Miss Grainger, I have first call on his affections, if ever he tires of his present amour. Quit flirting with him.” Daphne’s claw-like hand gestures seemed to be serious.



As the conversation continued in like form, Harry was doing double-takes all round the group and starting to look concerned. Then he caught a whiff of humour via the mind-warp. ‘So you want to jilt me do you?’ he sent.



That caught Draco’s attention; he was now the one wondering how serious things had become. It was Hermione whose face broke. It signalled a group degeneration into helpless laughter. At the end of the mirth Hermione gave Harry a reassuring hug and said she would think about mirror sacks.



After the meal there was no ethics debate; instead, a common room atmosphere developed until Draco told his story at chocolate time.



§§§§§



Monday started an Augusta week, so the young professors had hardly any time to themselves. Augusta sessions finished on Thursday evening; the group tutorial was relaxed and giggly. The new four soon became used to calling Draco and Harry by their given names. Invited to take chocolate chez Blake after class, the Smiling Ones readily accepted.



Phealey and Pullet served the chocolate and joined the group, producing a Winky made cream-jam sponge for them all to share. Draco went to the drinks cupboard.



“Most of the school knows how Harry and I got together, and about our previous rivalry. So how did you four get together?” he asked as he gave out glasses of Grand Marnier to accompany their hot drinks and cake.



“We grew up together in a Manchester suburb. Our parents live in a small enclave of magical people, so when we showed the talent we were encouraged to support each other,” said Honorius. “My mum’s a squib, but I bred true. I think that that brought my parents together even more than they were before. Both of them have good bloodlines. I’m glad Mum’s family didn’t throw her out, now they’re quite proud of her.”



“I think it was my parents who introduced us to the instruments,” Crassus mused. “Both of them are magical and musical. They belong to the Hallé Chorus and play keyboard instruments as well. We have a lot of fun at Christmas creating variations based on carol tunes.”



“My dad was Muggle-born,” Septimus revealed. “As head of the Goblin Liaison Office he’s friends with Professor Holderness. My mum’s the one who has connections with other magical families all over the place. She gave me my own clarinet when I passed my OWL’s; before that I borrowed Dad’s when he wasn’t playing.”



“I’m glad my brother Miles has left Hogwarts.” Mordant made a face. “He’s a right moron and believed all that Voldie said. He was really pissed off with you, Harry, when you killed him. He’s with the Master now, much to my parent’s chagrin. He’s threatened them with mayhem more than once. That, coupled with the local Muggle gang warfare, has my folks wanting to find somewhere else to live. Ron and Hermione say they will come and add to the house wards, but that doesn’t solve the problem outside, does it?”



“Richard was saying something about a group of incomers being fed up with the country and wanting to sell,” Draco put-in. “They formed a consortium to buy the five cottages next to the solicitors in Grumblewell Road. They’re the Muggles who treat the villagers like dirt. They organised the protest that we covered in cow dung.”



“How did you do that?” Four eager faces looked interested.



Harry retold the story with Draco adding adornments, much to their joint merriment.



“There’s another family who live nearby to us in Manchester. They’re both Muggles but their grandson is magical. The Thomas’s have been drawn into our parents circle. The friendship started because his grandparents thought Peter was defective somehow,” said Mordant. “Our folks soon put them at ease and things have moved on since. They’re really chuffed now he’s started here. We all call them Granddad and Nanny because ours were all killed by Death Eaters in the first war.”



“That’ll be the Peter who did that extra work in the evening, Draco” observed Harry.



“Oh yes! He really concentrates in my lessons, that one mistake has never been repeated. He ought to lighten up a bit though.”



“He’s musical too and into brass instruments, I think he fancies Jazz. Not quite our scene. I’m not sure what happened to his parents.” Mordant pulled a face. “I know that Granddad and Nanny are fed up with their surroundings. Granddad is about to retire I wonder if they’d like it in the village?”



“Professor Holderness has us playing some hornpipes for the dance this weekend coming. Also the young Filches want us to play at their house blessing in the afternoon, so all our folks have booked in at the Farmers Arms for the long weekend.”



“Get them to have a chat with Francis, our solicitor. He’ll know the details of the sale, if there is to be one.” Draco saw the quartet looking dubious and realised that they might still feel timorous about approaching a new adult. “One of us will introduce you, no need to worry.”



“Thanks! We’ll ask our folks when we see them. May we use the four-bunk room again, please?”



“No problem, as long as someone else hasn’t booked it,” said Harry.



“I’ll check with Elder Kreacher, shall I?” volunteered Phealey, going to the portal. He was back two minutes later. “It’s booked for a woodwind quartet from Friday evening to Monday morning, so I guess it’s yours, friends.”



“Thanks for finding out Phealey.”



“No problem! Just leave the things you want moving on top of your beds in the morning. We’ll make sure they’re moved, Okay?”



“Are you sure?” queried Honorius.



“That’s what we overworked and underpaid house-elves are for, isn’t it?” Pullet wrung his hands and drooped his ears comically.



“Possibly, but you’re different. You teach us things and treat us like friends.” Mordant knelt down and gripped Pullet’s shoulder gently.



“So? Friends can help each other, can’t they?” the elf replied.



“Oh … Yes … Well … I suppose they can. Let us know when we can return the compliment.” Mordant looked baffled.



“Actually, just between us here;” Pullet adopted a confidential pose. “It’s the Hogwarts elves who will do the moving. They all hold Elder Kreacher in reverence, and we seem to be regarded as his lieutenants; not that we’d abuse our honorary position, of course. However, it does help when Draco uses up all the Grand Marnier in one night.” Pullet gave Draco and arch look.



“Don’t complain too hard, friend elf, you were the last to be served and I had to wring out the bottle to get enough for your voracious thirst,” countered Draco.



“Okay! Okay! Just so you have no room to complain.” Phealey snapped his fingers six times and six large bottles of the said liqueur appeared. He piled them into Draco’s arms. “Will that be enough for the next hour, Sir?”



Draco did a quick vanishing spell on the bottles, hiding them behind the closed drinks cupboard doors. “It’s all right clicking your fingers like castanets. What good is a fandango when I’m dying of thirst?”



Pullet produced a pint glass full of the amber-orange liquid. “That might keep you happy for a few minutes; we’ll have your seconds ready in five … I don’t know! Some wizards are all demands and no thanks,” Pullet archly replied, winking at Crassus.



“Okay! I give in. I hope you don’t expect me to drink all this.”



“It’d be fun to make you; like the cold cure, but I think Harry would be displeased at your lack of rigidity when you get into bed.” It was Phealey’s turn to be suggestive.



The Smiling Ones jaws had slowly dropped open to their fullest extent, as they listened to the continuing repartee.



“Erm … Harry … Do they normally go on like this?” asked Septimus eventually.



“Sometimes it’s worse,” replied Harry. “Both parties can be extremely crude. It’s what you get when beings treat each other as equals. However, I’d not have it any other way. Phealey and Pullet have very good brains, and Kreacher outshines them. Why should we limit them to menial tasks, Mmm?”



“Yes I know. They’ve both helped me out when I got into a mess with one of Draco’s potions.” Septimus turned to the two elves. “Thanks guys, you were great. Without you that exacting professor over there would have deducted house-points.”



Septimus wondered if he’d gone too far until Draco burst out laughing. “No problem Set, I’ll just double them next time you drop a clanger.”



Harry looked at his watch, summoned a piece of parchment and scribbled on it, placing his signet ring on the hot wax at the bottom. “Um … it’s well after midnight. If a prefect or Argus Filch finds you, show them this. It will avoid you having points deducted for being in the halls after lights-out. Good night, we’ve enjoyed your company. There’ll be other times, no doubt. Don’t let us down in the morning by missing the Headmistress’s class.”



“NO HARRY. THANKS FOR THE CHAT AND THE DRINKS. GOODNIGHT ALL.” The four crept out of the sitting area and through the doors into the school passageways.



Two pairs of beings made their way to their two beds, there to help their libidos get rid of the amorous feelings in a truly delightful way.