Chapter Twenty Two - Picnic

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros and some other high falutin' companies. Me, I'm just a PR professional. I don't profess to own - and would never dream of making any money off - JKR's wonderful world. However, its her sandbox and she's left the gate unlatched so we can go in and play a bit. Which, I've done.

Chapter Twenty Two - Picnic

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Professor McGonagall had just finished marking the assignments of her Seventh Year NEWTS students when her wards alerted her to someone at her office door.

She set the marked assignments aside and went to the door. Opening it, she saw Professor Flitwick standing on the other side holding his pensieve tucked under his arm.

"Minerva," he said. "Do you have a few minutes?"

Standing aside, she let the diminutive professor in and, as she closed the door, asked, "I take it this has to do with Mister Potter's interview with the Headmaster?"

"Indeed," said Professor Flitwick. "The interview was quite enlightening. I also have Mister Potter's permission to share with you what happened."

"Will this be a one or two shot of Old Ogden's Finest memory?" she asked.

With a smile, he replied, "Only one, I think. But, don't put the bottle away."

With a smile of her own, Professor McGonagall conjured a plinth on which Professor Flitwick could place the pensieve. As she walked to her office desk and drew forth an opened bottle of Old Ogden's and a couple of clean short tumblers, Professor Flitwick drew the memory of the interview from his temple, dropping it into the pensieve.

After the two professors returned from their trip inside the pensieve, Professor McGonagall poured a shot of the whiskey into each glass, passed one to Professor Flitwick and kept the other for herself.

Once they'd each taken a couple sips, she looked at Professor Flitwick and said, "He was quite calm and - logical - in the way he laid it all out; wasn't he, Filius?"

Nodding, the Professor replied, "He is definitely his mother's son."

With a smile, Professor McGonagall said, "And last night was purely his father's influence."

Chuckling, the Charms Professor asked, "Have you noticed Albus's - throne - has disappeared?"

With a grin, Professor McGonagall replied, "It was the first thing I noticed when I went down for breakfast, this morning."

Both were lost in their thoughts for a minute before Professor Flitwick said, "His vocabulary is quite advanced for someone his age."

"I noticed," she mused. Hesitating a moment, she said, "I've also noticed he has a very quick grasp of the concepts of transfiguration. And that, once he has learnt the proper wand movements and incantation for a spell, he never forgets it or gets it wrong again."

"He's the same with Charms," he replied. "I've also noticed he appears quite bored with the material. And his assignments are quite brilliant."

"As are they with his transfiguration assignments," she replied.

"Furthermore," he said. "His Occlumency shields are quite advanced. I tested him once in class to see why he appeared to be so bored with the work. It was like hitting a blank wall. And he just smirked at me, for my attempt."

"Filius!" exclaimed the tall Professor. "You know better than that!"

"I know," he replied. "But I wanted to see if he has the gift I think he has. Everything I've seen points to it."

"And what would that be?" she asked.

"A perfect recall memory," replied the Professor. "I believe it's known as an eidetic memory."

"Perfect recall?" she asked.

"Yes," he nodded. "He remembers everything! He's able to quote, with barely a thought, often obscure quotes from famous muggles; he can read through a book flipping a page every couple of seconds, and instantly recall everything he read; once something is learned, it's permanently learned. He re-entered the wizarding world when he received his Hogwarts letter probably knowing nothing, and yet, knows the traditions and practices of the wizarding world almost inside out - consider what he did to Severus that morning soon after he rejoined us; and he never misses a thing."

Sitting back at her desk, Professor McGonagall thought a fair bit about what she'd just been told. "It would explain a lot, wouldn't it? The potential to learn must be extraordinary."

"The structured learning environment of Hogwarts is holding him back, Minerva," he quietly said.

"Yes," she grudgingly replied. "However, he has found friends here. He's very close to them. Placing him in an advanced learning curriculum will rob him of that."

"Ah, yes," replied Professor Flitwick. "The group the other students have begun to call 'The Seven'. Did you also notice that his friends could all be considered within the highest percentiles, academically, for their year group?"

Thinking, Professor McGonagall said, "Daphne Greengrass, his betrothed; Tracey Davis; Neville Longbottom; Hermione Granger; Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott. Yes, all seven of them would be the top students in their year group. The only ones who may challenge them are Padma Patil, Su Li, Blaise Zabini and Justin Finch-Fletchley."

"Exactly!" said Professor Flitwick. "Mister Potter achieves without trying, but Miss Granger pushes to achieve. I think she's the one who pushes the others in trying to keep up with Mister Potter. Miss Greengrass is also brilliant, but isn't one to push others. The other four just want to keep up.

"However, Pomona tells me Mister Longbottom is a prodigy when it comes to Herbology. She has plans for that boy. And though Mister Potter appears to do well in that subject, you can see he is not fond of it."

"Mister Potter and Miss Greengrass also have that extracurricular etiquette club of theirs, do they not?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," exclaimed Professor Flitwick. "I attended the session they held on Sunday under an Invisibility Charm. The two of them were brilliant. They calmly and in detail explained the role of the Houses in our society, together with some of the traditions and special etiquette involved. They never once talked down to them and explained it all in terms the muggleborns would understand. Those who attended lapped it all up.

"Both Mister Potter and Miss Greengrass will make excellent educators if they decide that's the career choice they want to pursue. I can also see their club curriculum easily becoming a recognised course of study. It dovetails nicely with Muggle Studies. However, that is something for the future."

"Indeed," said Professor McGonagall. "Albus told me wizarding traditions and etiquette used to be an approved course years ago. However, the pureblood factions saw to it that the course was cancelled as they felt it didn't benefit them. It was well before my time."

"Do we inform the rest of the staff of what we believe to be Mister Potter's unique gift?" asked Professor Flitwick.

Thinking for a bit, Professor McGonagall shook her head and replied, "I think not. As you are his Head of House you should probably talk to him about it first; as it sounds as if he's quite aware of it, already. That he hasn't made it public knowledge, as far as I know, is quite telling."

Nodding in agreement Professor Flitwick began to pack up his portable pensieve. Once he was finished, he bid his friend a good night and made his way back to his own quarters.

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On Thursday morning, Harry was packing up from his Charms class when Professor Flitwick asked him to remain behind. Hermione and Neville said they'd let the others know and be in the library.

Walking towards the Professor's stack of books he used to stand on at his podium, Harry asked, "Yes, Professor?"

The Professor waited until the last student left before using his wand to close the classroom door.

"Take a seat, Mister Potter," the Professor said.

Harry sat at one of the nearest benches and waited.

"I know you're one who appreciates honesty and straight-forwardness, Mister Potter," said the half-goblin. "So, I'll ask you straight."

Harry just sat there wondering what the Professor was on about.

"Mister Potter, do you have an eidetic memory?" asked the Professor in a normal voice.

Harry was quite startled by the question for a moment before his shoulders slumped forward.

Instead of answering he sighed and asked, "How did you find out, Professor?"

The Professor then explained his reasonings, just as he'd explained them to Professor McGonagall a couple nights previously.

"And the only thing that makes a lick of sense of those impossible actions is that you've an eidetic memory," replied the Professor, winding up.

With a sigh, Harry nodded. "Yeah, it does, doesn't it?"

Sitting up a little straighter he said, "It's not something I want spread around, Professor. When I was in muggle primary school the teachers used to give me crap marks because my homework or test results weren't perfect when they thought, considering my memory, they should be."

"Only Professor McGonagall and myself know of this, Mister Potter," replied the Professor. "We've agreed to keep it between us unless you stated otherwise."

"Then, please keep it between the two of you," said Harry.

With a slight bow, Professor Flitwick replied, "As you wish, Mister Potter. However, I'd be honoured if you allowed me to recommend to you some very worthwhile books on various charms I believe you may find useful."

Seeing the confused look on Harry's face, the professor grinned and said, "Come now, Mister Potter. I'm very much aware that the current course load is nothing more than a boring doddle for you. I believe you will benefit from reading and assimilating a very wide range of various Charms.

"I also believe you'll find Professor McGonagall may feel the same way and have some books on advanced transfiguration and conjuration for you to read. A mind like yours needs to properly fed and nurtured.

"And, finally, that bout of accidental magic you suffered from the night of the Sorting shows us that you are quite the powerful young wizard. I believe you can handle what we throw at you."

"Besides, reading all these extra books," mused Harry. "You're not going to test me on them, are you?"

"Test your knowledge, you mean?" asked the Professor.

Harry nodded.

"I believe that would be a waste of time, Mister Potter," said the Professor. "No, the testing I'll be doing will be more along practical lines. It will also have the added benefit of gauging just how powerful a young wizard you actually are. And that's something that incredible memory of yours will have no impact upon."

"Magic is like a muscle; it needs to be constantly exercised," said Harry.

"Precisely, Mister Potter; precisely."

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Walking into the library, Harry headed directly to the normal table around which the group normally sat. The others were waiting for him.

"What did Professor Flitwick want, Harry?" asked Hermione.

With a shrug, he replied, "He's noticed how I'm able to grasp the concept of Charms pretty quickly and wanted to know if I'd be interested in reading more books on the subject. He's going to get me some to read for a while, and then he's going to give me practical tests that cover them.

"By the sounds of it, he's also been speaking with Professor McGonagall and she's going to be doing the same with Transfiguration and Conjuration."

"Conjuration?" she asked. "I didn't think we made a start on that until Fourth Year."

"Apparently, they remember that burst of accidental magic I had on the night of the Sorting and want to see just how powerful I actually am. High level Charms, Transfiguration and Conjuration will help. It has a lot to do with the sort of memory I have."

"They know?" asked Daphne quietly.

"Either Professor Flitwick or Professor McGonagall figured it out individually or together," replied Harry. "Professor Flitwick said they're not going to share the secret with anyone else since I don't want it bandied about. I'll just have to trust them not to do so."

Daphne nodded and said, "This could actually be a good thing. I've noticed you've been quite bored with the course work. Plus, your charms and transfiguration work are impressive. You easily cast the strongest and most powerful Lumos of those in our year, at least; if that's any indication."

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By the following weekend Harry had managed to convince the twins to tell him how to find the kitchens. And, on the Friday afternoon after class and after returning to the dorm for a quick shower, he visited asking if it was possible for the house elves to prepare a picnic basket for the Sunday.

The elves happily agreed and said they would have everything in place for them down by the lake next to the 'big rock'.

Pleased with himself, Harry met with the others once more in the library.

"Where did you head off to in a rush from the greenhouses?" asked Daphne.

"Shower," replied Harry. "I swear, dragon dung seeps into the skin. It stinks enough."

Neville smiled and said, "It doesn't, actually; sink into the skin, that is. But it is hard to wash off."

"I swear, Neville," said Harry. "Herbology seems to be all about repotting, repotting and repotting some more."

Neville chuckled and said, "Repotting is, of course, an important part in the growing of magical plants under controlled conditions. However, we'll soon be moving on to caring for the plants in other ways."

"I find it fascinating how Potions and Herbology are so closely linked," said Hermione. "I think there should be more on how the ingredients we're growing in the greenhouses will become potions ingredients in the Potions Lab."

"We'll be covering that soon in Herbology," replied Neville. "I doubt Professor Snape will pay it any heed. He's just too fixated on making the potions rather than explaining about the potions and their ingredients, how they were developed, that sort of thing."

Susan piped in with a pretty bad impression of Snape, "Instructions are on the board. You have one hour. Begin!"

That elicited chuckles around the table.

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On the Sunday, Harry invited Daphne down to the lake for a walk.

"A walk, Potter?" she asked, one eyebrow lifted slightly.

"I love how you can do that with your eyebrow," smiled Harry, before answering her question. "Yes, I thought we could spend some time together outside before the first frosts turn to permanent ice.

"I thought we could take a walk along the bank of the lake, just the two of us, and just talk of inconsequential things."

"I think that would be a fine idea," she replied. "However, it is still a little chilly out. What say we meet in the Entrance Hall in fifteen minutes with our cloaks?"

Harry nodded, gave her a quick peck on the cheek and said, "See you in fifteen, then." He quickly dashed up to the Ravenclaw Tower.

Fifteen minutes later, on the dot, he was back down in the Entrance Hall and waiting.

A few minutes later, Daphne and Tracey walked up the stairs from the dungeons. Tracey whispered something into Daphne's ear, to which the young witch replied, and then she walked off towards the library with a smirk.

Harry offered his elbow to his betrothed and, together, they walked outside into the cool air of late morning.

They had been walking in silence for a few minutes when Daphne said, "I had begun to despair for you, of late."

Surprised, Harry asked, "Why?"

"Well, we've been here together for a few weeks now, and you've not shown me any romance," she replied with a small smirk.

"Daphne, I'm eleven!" exclaimed Harry. "At my age boys generally tend to think of girls as 'icky'."

"I know," she laughed. "However, the magic of the betrothal contract changes things like that."

"Huh?" he asked.

"Eloquent, Potter," she said. "What I mean is that the magic of the betrothal contract will bring us closer together, it makes us feel an attraction towards one another; of the romantic kind."

"I... know that it will bring us closer together," said Harry. "But, romantically?"

"What did you think 'bringing us closer together' meant?" Turning to look at him for a few moments, Daphne said, "I keep forgetting you were raised by muggles and were ignorant of our ways. What makes it more confusing is that you worked very quickly to make yourself as knowledgeable as rapidly as you could, reading all those books. But, there's a great deal those books don't cover."

"Hmm..." replied Harry with a verbal nod.

"A lot of what you know about the wizarding world and customs is actually not something a lot of wizards and witches know," she explained. "However, there are things you apparently don't know that every witch and wizard learns as they grow up, well before they reach Hogwarts."

"Like?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Such as, do you know who Rabbity Babbity is?" she asked.

"Errr - no; sorry," he replied.

"A character out of a children's bedtime story," she said. "Another, is that you don't carry yourself - purport yourself - as the Head of a Noble and Most Ancient House should."

"I don't want to put on airs and graces, Daphne," he gently replied. "Especially, around our friends. It's just not who I am. Plus, Malfoy does it; and it irritates me."

"I know," she softly replied. "But, getting back to my point, wizarding children grow up knowing there are very strong magics around contracts; just as there are around magical vows and oaths. We're raised knowing not be involved in one until our majorities."

"Alright, I can understand that," mused Harry. "So, you're saying there are pretty powerful magics relating to our betrothal contract."

"Yes," she replied. "And that it was signed in blood makes it even more magically powerful. It invokes blood magic."

"Blood magic?" asked Harry. "I'm sorry, but I've not heard of such other than blood wards. I don't think we study it here, at Hogwarts."

"We don't," she said. "Blood magics, these days, are only legally allowed to be used in contracts. There's even a special quill used, called a blood quill, that's used to sign such contracts. They're heavily regulated."

"Alright, that makes sense. Of course, I know of blood quills already..." said Harry. "I take it that, since our betrothal contract was signed in blood, it's making use of these blood magics. And that makes the magic relating to the contract that much more powerful?"

"Yes," she said. "Part of that is what makes the contract unbreakable. However, the reason I've raised this with you, is that we can find no history where a betrothal contract has ever been signed in blood before. At least, since the Ministry has kept record of these things."

"Cygnus has been looking into this?" he asked.

"He has," she replied. "What I'm trying to tell you is that the magic of betrothal contracts will bring us closer together. It'll make us more - compatible with one another. That the betrothal contract is signed in blood..."

"You don't know what affect that is going to have on us," finished Harry. "Other than it will probably make the magic stronger and, therefore, bring us closer together."

"Exactly," she sighed leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked, glad to see he had grasped what she was trying to say.

"You're worried it will change who we are," he said.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I fear I may become someone that will be - unwanted - unloved - by my family and friends in the process of becoming a better match for you."

Thinking a bit, Harry asked, "Can I let you in on a little not-so-secret secret?"

"Yes," she replied, curious.

"It's already changed us quite a bit."

Frowning, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Look at how we are now. Look at how we interact with each other," he replied. "Do you realise it's only been a month since we first met?"

"I..." she stuttered in surprise.

"Think back to the afternoon, only a day later after meeting me for the first time, when I presented you with that ring that adorns your finger," he said. "Think about how it made you feel."

Daphne walked in a bit of wonder.

"Can you perceive your life without me?" he asked.

A little shocked, she replied, "No."

"And that is what I mean," he said.

After a few moments, she sighed in recognition and said, "I hadn't noticed."

"Neither had I until you started talking about the magic of 'normal' betrothal contracts," he replied. "But, do you feel as if you're drifting apart from your family and friends?"

"No," she sighed.

"Good," he stated firmly. "If you ever feel that is the case, then it shall be my fault. And I would do all in my power to rectify the situation."

Daphne stopped, spun Harry towards herself and planted a powerful kiss on his lips, before spinning him back and egging him forward.

Quite stunned, he asked, "I just did something really good again, didn't I?"

"Yes, Mister Potter; you did," she replied.

After a short while of walking and then turning back towards the rock, Harry guided Daphne to a spot just alongside it. As he stood there, a picnic basket magically appeared with a thick blanket folded neatly over it.

Looking down at what was now next to Harry's feet, Daphne asked, "Where'd that come from?"

"I asked the elves a couple days ago if they wouldn't mind preparing a picnic lunch for us if we went for a walk together on Sunday," replied Harry. "They were happy to do it."

Very soon thereafter, Harry had the blanket spread out upon the grass and had moved the picnic basket onto it.

Helping Daphne down to a sitting position, he said, "I have no idea what they've prepared for us, so I have no idea if they've packed your favourite foods or not."

While Daphne was opening the top of the picnic basket and removing containers, Harry was sitting down opposite.

From his side, Harry removed a couple of plates, two sets of cutlery, and a pair of cups. Then he removed a sealed jug of chilled orange juice. He continued to watch as Daphne was concentrating on opening containers. The smells of food wafting out smelled delicious.

Soon, both of them were enjoying quite the picnic feast.

"This was a good idea, Harry," she finally said, between bites.

"Thank you," he simply replied. "I thought it would be nice for us to share a private meal together, away from the other five. This was the idea I came up with."

After they spent some time eating in companionable silence, Harry said, "From what I read about the betrothal contract, I take it your birthday was not long before mine. However, I have no idea when it actually is."

"The twenty-ninth of June," she replied. "And, don't worry about the others. Hermione has now written up a calendar with all the important dates within. That includes everyone's birthday."

"Good," said Harry, with a sigh in relief. "I'd hate to think we've missed anyone else's."

They sat there for a while longer before Daphne sat up straighter and said, "Well, we need to pack this lot up and return it to the kitchens. We have a club meeting for which to prepare."

With a nod and sigh, Harry helped pack things up. The last was folding the blanket.

While he carried the basket, Daphne carried the rug. As had become their norm, she tucked her hand into his elbow as they walked.

Entering the castle she allowed him to lead her down the stairs into the first level of the dungeon.

"Ummm - Harry?" she asked.

"Mmmm?" he asked back.

"You do know where we're going, right?" she asked.

"Oh!" he replied. "I forgot to tell you I know where the kitchens are, and how to get in."

"And that's where we're going now?" she asked.

"It is," he replied.

Soon Harry led her into a hallway with a large painting of a bowl of fruit. With a grin, he reached up and tickled the pear at the forefront in the bowl.

The pear gave a giggle and shivered before turning into a pear-shaped doorknob. Harry grasped the knob, gave it a turn, and pulled the painting away from the wall.

With the hidden door now wide open, Harry led his betrothed into one of the areas of the castle very few students ever got to see; the massive kitchens.

Not too far inside, was a cleared table. Harry reached it and carefully placed the basket on top of it.

Almost immediately, he was seen by the elves and one of them popped into sight right in front.

"Was your picky-nick satisfactory, young master?" the elf asked.

"It was wonderful, thank you," replied Harry. "We enjoyed it very much."

"Master is kind!" said the elf. A quick snap of it's fingers and the basket and blanket were gone. "Would young master likes anything else?"

"No; thank you, though," replied Harry. "We have to get ready for a club meeting."

"Please comes back and visits us, anytime," said the elf.

"We will, thank you," said Daphne.

Back out in the hallway, she said, "Thank you for showing me that, Harry."

With a small shrug and his lop-sided grin, he said, "Well, the twins - that is, the Weasley twins - showed me a few days ago."

"I know which twins you meant, Harry," she mock-scoffed at him.

"Of course you do," he said. "Anyway, they said it's not a secret that should be kept. Everyone with a penchant for a between-meal or late night snack should be given the secret of the kitchen."

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