Fic: Henny P(articularly Disturbing)enny (MFTAM)

[bookishwench]

For disclaimers, notes, and a list of chapters, please see here.

Henny P(articularly Disturbing)enny

The following morning, Harry had suggested that perhaps they should regroup, take a day to think and plan, and to his surprise, both Hermione and Ron had agreed immediately. It felt like they had been traveling for years, and the possibilities were still endless, but the one thing all of them knew for certain was they needed to leave the Little Hangleton churchyard as far behind them as possible.

“Perhaps we can choose a completely neutral spot,” Hermione suggested. “Somewhere that has nothing to do with Horcruxes or even magic in general.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “Someplace that belongs in the dictionary next to the word Muggle.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Harry said, and he actually had a smile on this face. “It’s a bit daft, but it should fit the bill.”

“Oh?” Hermione said.

“Yeah. School,” Harry said.

“Hogwarts?” Ron said, sounding a little hopeful.

“Not that one. The one I went to before Hogwarts. The Muggle school where Dudley and his gang used to torture me,” Harry suggested. “The building was closed a few years ago when they built a new one down the road, so it’s been sitting empty all this time, but it’s probably one of the least magical places you could possibly ask for, and no one goes near it.”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said, furrowing her eyebrows. “Could the Death Eaters have put a watch on it?”

“Why would they?” Ron asked. “It’s not like he’d have any reason to go back there.”

“Yeah, I originally thought of Privet Drive, but it probably really is being monitored,” Harry said. “I don’t think the old school has a close enough relationship to me to warrant a second look by Death Eaters.”

“Well, you’re most likely right,” Hermione said, relaxing a bit. “It’s only a tangential connection, and it’s not like it has any link to what we’re doing. They’re the sort who wouldn’t consider looking at something purely Muggle in someone’s background unless there was a purpose for it.”

“Hermione,” Ron asked as they shut down the charms around their campsite and prepared to move in the predawn light, “where did you go before Hogwarts?”

“Oh, a Muggle day school called Little Scholars of England,” Hermione said wistfully. “It did have a rather good playground. Excellent swings.”

“We were just tutored at home by Mum,” Ron said. “I’m not sure how she survived teaching Fred and George maths and reading. I’m starting to think she put a spell on herself to keep her from flying off the handle every four minutes.”

“Yes, there are a few spells that can increase patience,” Hermione said as she deftly removed another barrier.

“No, I meant literally flying off the handle,” Ron said. “The only way they would pay attention was if she taught them while they were about fifty feet in the air on broomsticks, including her. Of course, Fred and George being Fred and George, they were always mucking about and trying to fly off, and she kept having to speed after them with me and Ginny in tow. The number of times she had to pull out of a steep dive in a week was too high to count, and yeah, sometimes she did go right off the handle of her broom.”

Harry stopped breaking down his section of the barrier to stare in impressed horror at Ron while Hermione did the same.

“What?” Ron said. “That’s typical parent stuff, right?”

“Not particularly, no,” Hermione said slowly. “Your mother has her reasons for being a bit paranoid, doesn’t she.”

“I suppose,” Ron said uncertainly. “Well, mine’s done.”

“Me too,” Harry said.

“And that’s me as well,” Hermione said, giving one last wave of her wand and efficiently packing the tent into her little beaded bag. “Lead on, Harry.”

“Right,” he said, and he Apparated to his old primary school, taking Ron and Hermione along with him, leaving the churchyard and its foggy landscape behind.

Unfortunately, the new view wasn’t a tremendous improvement. The rising sun showed that time and neglect had made the old building practically a ruin even in only a few short years. Grass poked up between cracks in the pavement, several windows had been smashed, rude graffiti covered the outside walls, and the whole school had an air of dereliction that made it feel cold even before they stepped inside.

“Charming,” Ron said with a wry smile. “I can see why Muggle kids just love these places.”

Hermione quickly used the Alohomora charm to open a side door, disconnected the burglar alarm, and they were inside in a moment. The electricity was turned off and there was no heat, but Harry remembered the way to the old gymnasium. He supposed Hermione would have preferred the library, but he doubted an abandoned, empty-shelved library would have put her in a better mood. Quite the opposite. As it was, the gymnasium offered both the prospect of a bit of light through the skylights, privacy since there were no floor-level windows, and plenty of space, so it was easily the best place to set up the tent. A few random squeaks suggested that there might be some rats about, but that was nothing new. They’d been in residence even when the students had still been here.

The trio were now old hands at setting up both the tent and its wards, and in less than ten minutes, they were sitting on the old bleachers, batting around ideas and eating the last of some chocolate bars Hermione had been hiding behind a stack of Arithmancy books in her bag.

“Wales,” Ron said.

“Why Wales?” Harry asked.

“We haven’t been there yet?” Ron said with a shrug.

“Yes, but there’s no real connection to Horcruxes there,” Hermione said.

“True,” Ron admitted, “but then maybe there might be something there just because there’s no connection.”

“By that logic we could go anywhere from Kilkenny to Kathmandu,” Hermione said. “I still think there needs to be some sort of distinct reason Tommy would leave them wherever they are. As evil as he is, they’re still bits of his soul. I don’t think he’d just toss them about like litter, and besides, they’d have to be safe.”

“But how safe was the Gaunt cottage even with all the protective charms on it that Dumbledore had to go through?” Harry said. “And leaving the diary with the Malfoys turned out to be a stupid idea since old Lucius handed it off to an eleven-year-old.”

“But Lucius Malfoy didn’t really know what the diary was, and whatever he might have said, I think he thought You Know Who wasn’t coming back,” Hermione argued. “The Gaunt house was literally falling apart and essentially a rubbish heap, though. So you’re right, Harry, the location doesn’t have to be grand.”

“Just related,” Ron said. “I don’t think Tommy would have picked just any rubbish heap, you know? Only one that had significance.”

Harry nodded. They were going in circles again. Where would they be? Where might Voldemort have put them? What corner of his past were they ignoring?

“Do you think we should just try to kill Nagini already?” Ron said suddenly.

“Dumbledore seemed to think we should wait on that one, if she even is a Horcrux,” Harry said. “He wasn’t certain.”

“And she’d be close to You Know Who,” Hermione pointed out. “I doubt he’s letting her far from his sight.”

“Ah, a boy and his human-eating gigantic snake,” Ron said, pasting a look of fake bliss on his face. “Inseparable.”

“Freud really would have some sort of mental breakdown over him inserting his soul in a huge snake, and a female one at that,” Hermione mumbled to herself, but both Harry and Ron shrugged and went back to chewing their chocolate slowly.

“Okay, a very long shot here, but did Tommy have any hobbies?” Ron asked.

“Besides torturing anyone who wasn’t pure-blood?” Hermione said.

“Well, yeah, that but didn’t he ever do anything vaguely normal? Even as a kid?” Ron asked.

“Not that I know of,” Hermione said. “He wasn’t on any house teams for any games or sports; that much I know from research. He was a member of the Slug Club, but really that was more of a cover for trying to pump Skughorn for information on the Dark Arts.”

“I’m not so sure,” Harry said. “I mean, yes, he did use Slughorn for information, but I had the strangest feeling he rather liked him.”

“Well, Slughorn likes anyone he thinks might be useful to him someday,” Hermione said.

“No, I mean Vol-euh, Tommy, I think he may actually have not exactly been fond of him, but then I don’t think he’s fond of anyone, so liking someone even a little bit by a normal person’s standards would put him at the top of his list of favorite people,” Harry said.

“But why?” Hermione asked.

“Because he isn’t dead,” Harry said bluntly. “Tommy must have known that Slughorn’s memory about the Horcruxes could be damning for him, but he never ordered him killed. Instead, he sent Death Eaters to recruit him, and when he turned them down, nothing happened to him. Why didn’t he just murder him? It would have been a lot safer, and without that missing memory, we wouldn’t have any idea how many Horcruxes he made or even a firm idea that was what he was up to.”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said, looking surprised. “It’s possible, but it seems so unlikely for You Know Who to actually be human enough to have some kind of affection, even a bit, for anyone.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to imagine, but at the same time, it’s a huge gap in his defenses, and there’s no other logical reason for it, is there?” Ron said, then stopped for a moment as an idea hit him. “Do you think he might have slipped Slughorn a Horcrux without letting him know? Like with Malfoy?”

Hermione and Harry exchanged looks before both shrugged.

“Why not? I’m not saying he shoved his soul into a box of crystalized pineapple and wrapped it up as a Christmas present for him, but he’s certainly done stranger things,” Harry said.

“Like what?” Ron asked.

“Like removing his own nose,” Harry said.

“Fair point,” Ron said. “I never got that either.”

“Nor I,” Hermione said. “So, what should we do? Go to Slughorn’s old house he abandoned before sixth year or try to contact him directly?”

“I think the house first,” Ron said, which surprised Harry as he thought that Ron would have jumped at any chance to get in contact with other wizards.

“Why not Slughorn himself?” Hermione asked, and Harry could tell from her voice she was thinking the same thing.

“Because I’m not sure we can trust him,” Ron said. “It might be too much temptation for him. You’re right about him liking anyone he can use to his advantage, and having Harry Potter, the single thing that Tommy wants more than anything and a free ticket to anything Slughorn might ask for, show up on his doorstep could be more than he can handle.”

“You’re right,” Harry said. “Slughorn isn’t awful, but he’s risky. I’d rather wait until it’s a last resort to contact him directly.”

“Does anyone know where he used to live?” Ron asked.

“Yes, I have it in here somewhere,” Hermione said, reaching into her beaded bag, which never left her side these days. “I made a point of looking up the information on all of the staff, past and present, before we left, just in case we needed it. It was in one of Dumbledore’s notebooks.”

She rummaged through the bag until she finally pulled out a small, red-bound book that looked like an ordinary Muggle address book. In fact, that’s exactly what it was.

“Here it is,” Hermione said. “Slughorn, Horace: number 78 Popinjay Path, Leeds.”

“Fits,” Ron said. “Alright, then, Leeds tomorrow?”

“I think so,” Harry said, then all of them stopped cold as something thudded to the floor behind them.

In an instant all three had their wands out, back to back, eyes searching through the darkness.

“We know you’re here!” Ron called out in a voice that sounded much less frightened then he really was. “Come out and face us, you ruddy cowards!”

“What was it?” Hermione said quickly as they circled slowly, surveying the empty gymnasium.

“There,” Harry said suddenly, seeing a large chunk of plaster on the ground about fifteen feet away, a small plume of dust still rising from it.

Cautiously, Harry used his wand to illuminate the section in the ceiling where it had originated, and he found a large water spot. The roof was obviously damaged and rotting away. In fact, though the hole the plaster had left, a small bit of sky was visible. It appeared there was no one there.

“What do you think?” Harry asked.

“Probably just an unlucky accident,” Hermione said, “but we’d better make sure.”

In the next few minutes, Ron and Harry kept their wands drawn and ready to fight as Hermione went through a list of spells to reveal intruders and show traces of magic. Aside from themselves, no one else proved to be present.

“I think we’re safe,” Hermione said with a sigh of relief. “Just a case of worrying the sky was falling, almost literally.”

“What?” Ron said. “Why would someone do that?”

“Oh, it’s another Muggle story,” Hermione said. “It’s more a fable than a fairy tale as there’s no magic in it, though.”

“But it’s mad?” Ron said with a trace of a smile as he lowered his wand. Harry, still a bit concerned, kept his ready to strike, but tried not to be obvious about it.

“Fairly,” Hermione said.

“Well, then, let’s have it,” Ron said.

Hermione considered for a moment, then quickly repaired the hole in the ceiling with a bit of efficient wandwork. Harry and Ron sat on the floor outside the tent, and while neither said anything about it, they both kept their wands ready. Harry noted that although Hermione looked quite relaxed, her fingers were still wrapped around her wand, ready at a moment’s notice.

“Once…”

“Upon a time,” Ron finished.

“Yes,” Hermione said with a sigh. “There lived a hen whose name was Henny Penny.”

“Henny Penny?” Ron said, looking slightly appalled. “Not the most creative name, I suppose, but still better than Turniphead, I guess.”

“This is usually a story for very young children,” Hermione explained. “The rhyming aspect of the name would help them remember it. In some versions, the main character is Chicken Licken.”

“Chicken… Licken,” Ron said slowly.

“Which somehow devolved into Chicken Little in certain retellings, which rather undermines the whole point of the rhyme-based mnemonic device,” Hermione said, “though I suppose Chicken Little is a bit less twee.”

“A bit, but not much, especially when it’s a direct descendent of Chicken Licken,” Ron said. “That one does sound rather appetizing, though.”

“The boy is 99% stomach,” Hermione mumbled under her breath just loudly enough that Harry caught it before she went on. “In any case, Henny Penny went out for a walk one fine day, and as she was strolling, an acorn fell from an oak tree and struck her smartly on the head.”

“Ow,” Ron said, sounding sympathetic. “I’ve been hit with one of those. They hurt like blazes. Granted, Fred and George were hurling them at me at the time, so there was a good deal more velocity involved, not to mention a lot more than one acorn, but for a chicken, one nut alone would probably be pretty nasty.”

“Out of morbid curiosity, what had you done to your brothers that got them pelting you with acorns?” Hermione asked.

“Nothing,” Ron said defensively, but when both Harry and Hermione gave him disbelieving looks, he shrugged sheepishly. “Okay, I stole one of their brooms and took it for a ride around the pasture. I still don’t think it’s worth being stoned to death with acorns.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Hermione said. “Be that as it may, Henny Penny was indeed very distressed when the acorn hit her head. Crying out in terror, she exclaimed, ‘The sky is falling! The sky is falling!’ and took off like a shot down the road, intent on telling the king of their impending doom.”

“Wait, that’s a pretty big jump to make,” Harry said. “How did she get from an acorn hitting her to the sky falling?”

“Concussion?” Ron suggested.

“You know, that’s a fair point,” Hermione said, tipping her head to one side and considering. “It’s entirely possible that the acorn could have struck her with such force that it did cause a concussion, and one common side effect of that condition is mental confusion. It would certainly explain the bizarre leap she makes that the sky is cracking apart. That’s entirely likely, Ron, and one of the better explanations I’ve come across for the inciting incident of this story.”

“Yeah!” Ron said, smiling, obviously thrilled that his point was a good one, even if Harry suspected he hadn’t followed some of Hermione’s words.

“But, concussed or not, Henny Penny ran and ran down the road, making for the palace with all haste, when she met Ducky Lucky,” Hermione said.

“Ducky Lucky?” Ron said.

“Yes, Ducky Lucky,” Hermione repeated. “Henny Penny told Ducky Lucky, ‘A great piece of the sky has fallen, and it hit me on the head. I am going to the king to tell him!’ and Ducky Lucky, horrified, cried, ‘I shall come too!’ They both ran together along the road, squawking and quacking their alarm, ‘The sky is falling! The sky is falling!’”

“So Ducky Lucky just accepted Henny Penny’s nutter ravings about the sky breaking up without any backing at all?” Ron said.

“Yes,” Hermione said. “Either Ducky Lucky trusted Henny Penny completely or she wasn’t very bright, especially since the story was so outrageous. Possibly both.”

“Well, you go through life with a dignified name like Henny Penny, it’s going to inspire a certain automatic aura of confidence from those around you,” Harry said. “Poor old Ducky Lucky can’t be blamed for that.”

“True,” Ron said. “Go on then. So Jenny Wreny and Plucky Mucky are on their way to see the king to tell them an acorn, pardon, the sky is falling. Now what?”

“Well, they ran into Turkey Lurkey,” Hermione said.

Ron and Harry both just looked at her.

“How in Merlin’s name can you actually say that with a straight face?” Ron said.

“It’s the character’s name,” Hermione responded.

“It’s an abomination is what it is!” Ron yelled. “Turkey Lurkey?! Ducky Lucky?! Henny Penny?! What’s next, Cowsy Wowsy?”

“As I was saying, Turkey Lurkey,” Hermione said, enunciating the name with great precision, “wanted to know what all the fuss was about, and Ducky Lucky and Henny Penny explained that the sky was falling, so Turkey Lurkey decided to go with them to tell the king.”

“Of course Turkey Lurkey did,” Ron said. “Probably had nothing else to do but lurk about anyway.”

“Have you ever seen a turkey lurk?” Harry asked.

“No, I have not, but perhaps they’re just so very good at it that they aren’t noticed,” Ron said. “So these three completely barking birds still go running down the road, yelling the sky is falling?”

“Precisely, until they run into Goosey Loosey,” Hermione said, and while she kept her voice perfectly even, Harry noted that the corners of her mouth were fighting to keep from grinning because of Ron’s inevitable reaction.

“Goosey Loosey,” Ron said, then nodded. “Yep, Muggles are the weirdest things on the planet earth, even weirder than platypuses. Or is it platypi?”

“Platypuses and platypi are both correct, and as you’ve most likely figured out, Goosey Loosey wants to know what Henny Penny, Ducky Lucky and Turkey Lurkey are doing, they tell her the sky is falling, and Goosey Loosey joins in the party,” Hermione said.

“Anyone else?” Ron asked.

“How funny you should mention it, but they do indeed run into yet another bird, whose name is Drakey Lakey,” Hermione said, still stone-faced, but her stomach was shaking from repressed giggles.

“Great, now I’m picturing Draco talking to a bunch of deranged birds,” Harry said.

At this the other two broke into fits of laughter, with Ron shaking his head as though he were trying to regain control and Hermione finally snapping and toppling over to one side on the floor as she laughed.

“Okay, okay,” Ron said as he attempted catching his breath, “so Draco Maco joins Henny Penny, Ducky Lucky, Turkey Lurkey, and Goosey Loosey to tell the poor king, who is going to be deeply confused by all this, that the sky is falling. Anyone else?”

“I’m afraid so,” Hermione said. “Gander Lander shows up next.”

“Gander Lander?” Ron said. “Okay, that’s not so horrid. Or I’m just readjusting my sense of what constitutes horrid.”

“As usual, he asks what’s happening, is told the sky is falling, and joins them in warning the king,” Hermione said. “I suspect you know the pattern by now, so we have Henny Penny, Ducky Lucky, Turkey Lurkey, Goosey Loosey, Drakey Lakey, and Gander Lander all running down the road and squawking.”

“And of course don’t forget Chicken Licken,” Harry said.

“Yes, when he’s a separate character from Henny Penny he does usually show up about now,” Hermione said. “It would be the exact same dialogue yet again, of course, when that’s the case, and then we get Cocky Locky, who usually shows up last.”

Harry and Ron looked at each other.

“I’m so thankful that that’s the last one that I’m going to completely bypass the obvious path my jokes should take here,” Ron said.

“Fred and George would be deeply disappointed in you,” Harry said.

“When Fred and George are proud of you, you need to reconsider your life choices very carefully,” Ron said sagely. “So… Henny Penny, Ducky Lucky, Turkey Lurkey, Goosey Loosey, Drakey Lakey, Gander Lander, Chicken Licken, and Cocky Locky all take off for the palace. Hey, I just noticed, with the exception of Henny Penny, their rhymes are all formed by using an L, aren’t they?”

“Yes, which makes Henny Penny stand out more as the original main character,” Hermione said approvingly. “The rest of the barnyard birds basically blend together.”

“So, what happens when they get to the kingy-lingy?” Ron asked with a perfectly straight face.

“On the way there, they met yet another animal,” Hermione said.

“I thought you said Cocky Locky was the last one,” Ron said, looking disappointed.

“The last bird, yes, but this is Foxy Loxy,” Hermione said.

“Foxy Loxy? Oopsie whoopsie,” Harry said.

“Precisely,” Hermione said with a nod. “Foxy Loxy listened to Henny Penny’s story, then said he knew a shortcut to the palace that would get them to the king much more quickly to tell him the sky was falling. All they had to do was cut through his burrow.”

“Uh… huh,” Ron said. “Right. Not good.”

“Remember, though, this is a chicken who mistook an acorn for the ozone layer shattering into bits,” Harry pointed out.

“The what?” Ron asked.

“The ozone layer,” Hermione said. “The protective layer around the earth that keeps the sun’s ultraviolet radiation from frying us, well, unless we keep digging a hole in it.”

Ron looked puzzled for a moment, then brightened and said, “Oh! You mean the Thaumo Portkenski Barrier!”

“The what?” Harry and Hermione said together.

“Yeah, ol’ Thaumo rigged that up around the 1920s when Muggle industrial pollution was getting so bad it was starting to interfere with being able to cast certain spells. Rotten stuff. He was able to put a protective layer over the other protective layer. That first one, the Q-zone layer?”

“Ozone,” Hermione corrected him, looking pale.

“Yeah, that’s been pretty well gone for a few decades now, just little wisps of it still there around the south pole and such,” Ron said.

“Wait, that’s… are we reading the levels backward? The holes are the healthy parts and vice versa?!” Hermione said, looking horrified.

“Yep,” Ron said. “Of course, the Thaumo Portenski Barrier is getting kind of tired by now. Unfortunately, he died fifty years ago, and his notes were never found, so good luck in a decade or two.”

Harry thought Hermione might run screaming from the gymnasium out of sheer fright that the sky actually had fallen.

“Um, yes,” she said, gamely trying to continue onward. “We’ll… deal with that next. Mercy. All right, so Foxy Loxy went into his burrow first, followed by Ducky Lucky, Turkey Lurkey, Goosey Loosey, Drakey Lakey, Gander Lander, Chicken Licken, Cocky Locky, and finally Henny Penny. All seemed to be going very well until Foxy Loxy reached a spot where the burrow opened up into a wider underground chamber where he could lie in wait for the other animals, and as each passed by, he opened his sharp jaws and bit off their heads one by one before they could utter a sound. However, he hadn’t counted on Cocky Locky, who crowed in alarm when he saw the severed heads of the other animals lying on the floor before Foxy Loxy could kill him. Though Cocky Locky was killed as well, his warning made Henny Penny run for her life, and she scurried out of the burrow and down the road, entirely forgetting about the sky falling, and so the king was never told. The end.”

Ron blinked slowly.

“Okay, that went from a fairly snooze-worthy children’s repetition story to an outright nightmare in three seconds flat,” Ron said. “They all die except Henny Penny?”

“In some versions,” Hermione said. “In others, Henny Penny is killed too, and in still others the animals all manage to escape but never get to the king, or they do get there and he thinks it’s all nonsense.”

“Lots of versions,” Ron said, “and lots of fatalities. And you said this is usually a story for very small children, right? What a pleasant story to tell one’s sprogs!”

“It is rather dark,” Hermione admitted, “with the overall point being to stop and think things through rather that running off and panicking and possibly making things worse. It’s a good point, but not especially happy.”

“You’re a weird lot,” Ron said. “I’m getting a bit tired, though. Feel like turning in, Harry Larry?”

“I’m all in, Ronny Lonny,” Harry said.

“The first one of you to call me Hermione Lermione is going to get hit with the Jelly-Legs Jinx when he least expects it,” Hermione said, but she smiled.

Harry thought that considering the counter-jinx was just “Unjellify,” it wasn’t much of a threat. Only Crabbe and Goyle ever fell for that one after third year.

“To Slughorn’s tomorrow then?” she asked.

“I suppose so,” Ron said, then grimaced. “Blimey, Harry, this place still reeks of sweaty feet and it’s been vacant for years. It must have been unbearable while you were here.”

“It was,” Harry said, then added, “for a lot of reasons.”

He looked up at the repaired hole in the roof, remembering when an early bout of accidental magic had whisked him up there, leaving him wondering how he had managed it and without a clue to what it really meant and what his future would hold. That night, as he was getting ready to fall asleep, he tried not to think of Hermione’s story, of too many dead on false hope of a quick end to conflict, but he was haunted by nightmares of a fox with eyes that glowed the same sickly green as the Horcrux.