Disclaimer: I don't own Harry's Wonderful World or Middle Earth. They unfortunately belong to their rightful inventors.
Chapter Eighteen. Scrap booking
Harry sat on his bed upstairs in the Granger's household, with Hermione's little bit of bed time research. Stretching his arms and neck until they cracked Harry returned to staring at the pages of the scrap book. He wished dearly that Hermione would not write in such small lettering, but did not have the heart to tell her it made her writing difficult to read. After all, the studious girl had perfected her script until she could fit three times the amount into the allotted essays at school. No wander Snape hated her. He would to if he had to stay up late to read a Hermione essay in her horrid handwriting.
Stretching again, Harry thanked his lucky stars, the Valor and Merlin that both sets of twins after an exhausting lunch and battles of pranks, decided to retire early. He was certainly sure Mrs. Granger was happy also after all the emotional pain they put her through.
"Ravenclaw's unfinished embroidery," Harry muttered glaring at the garish picture in the scrap book. "You would think the founders had some sort of taste." Harry turned the scrap book around every which way trying to decipher what exactly the embroidery was of and decided it looked like a decrepit bear with sinus issues eating Salazar Slytherin's head.
Why had an intelligent, famous witch like Rowena Ravenclaw, whose beauty was legendary amongst the Ravenclaws prize an ugly, unfinished piece of work? Why not a book? Or a necklace? Or Merlin, a dress? Instead the famed founder had chosen a creation out of her own imagination with a Latin title that Hermione proudly translated to saying, 'All men are inevitably pigs.' A title that was not exactly flattering in Harry's opinion.
Harry flipped the page and turned to Hufflepuff's golden cup. He had to admit that Helga Hufflepuff had mildly better taste than Ravenclaw. Time had tarnished the golden vessel – surely Hufflepuff would have had the foresight to charm the gold so that it would stay in pristine condition.
Harry ripped a piece of paper from Hermione's scrapbook and began to write:
The Diary – Tom Riddle's younger ego destroyed in monumental 'Battle of the Basilisk'
The Ring – Ugly black cockroach on a piece of gold. Destroyed.
Locket – Destroyed by RAB and fake placed in spot. Found by Weasley and Granger. Salazar had better taste than Ravenclaw even if he was an evil wizard.
Ravenclaw's embroidery. She should have stuck to her books. According to Hermione to be found in 'Hell's Spit' – charming.
Helga's cup. According to Granger to be found in 'The Valley of Death.' Who names these places?
Voldemort's pet snake. It would be such a pity to kill Voldie's pet. Imagining what it would have been like for Gandalf to kill Melkor's pet Belrog.
Voldemort himself… I wander if he'll turn to dust or perhaps an explosion?
Looking over what he had written, Harry tilted his head to the side and folded the parchment grinning from ear to ear before bounding down the stairs taking three easily at a time.
Mrs. Granger glared at him at the bottom. "Don't you dare wake those, devil uncles of yours," she snarled.
Harry smiled winningly at her as she went back to staring heatedly at her coffee cup as if it had insulted her. "It's empty," Harry pointed out all too innocently. "You might want to refill it."
Mrs. Granger stared at her cup, to Harry and then back to her cup, before turning stiff backed to the kitchen to get another morning refill.
Harry followed her to the kitchen unsurprised to see that Hermione was already awake talking to McGonagall. He surmised that Ron would be awhile yet – he always did love his lie ins.
"Morning," Harry greeting – beaming widely just to annoy the scowling Mrs. Granger. Mrs. Granger merely filled her mug and stalked out of the room presumedly to provoke Mr. Granger.
"Must you annoy my mother, so?" Hermione said from behind her bushy hair.
Helping himself to some freshly toasted bread and marmalade, Harry took a big bite before answering. "Yes."
Hermione sighed heavily and smacked her forehead.
"I was thinking…"
Hermione glanced up as Harry continued talking – intrigued undoubtedly of what a male brain was capable of thinking about.
"There are two Horcruxes to find. One at 'The Valley of Hell' and 'Death's Spit'. Would you like to lead a team and take my uncles with you? You know to research them?"
"It's 'The Valley of Death' and 'Hell's Spit.'," Hermione corrected in her very finest teacher's voice, barely registering Harry was deliberately teasing her. "And no I don't want to be with your uncles."
Harry blinked widely and stared at her with his large green eyes. "Purr…eeeaaassse?"
"NO!" Hermione answered resolutely. "That is not going to work on me!"
Harry blinked again innocently and pouted. "Purr… ease?"
"No way elfling," Elrohir called from the doorway. Harry damned the elvish way of walking he hadn't heard them coming.
"We're hear to make sure you go back one in one piece," Elladan said crossing his arms against his chest. Harry surmised he was going for the Elrond look but was failing miserably. He wasn't however about to point that out.
"Or alternatively relatively in one piece," Elrohir muttered. "With our track record…."
Hermione snorted indigently. "You mean with Harry's track record."
"Oh isn't it nice to see Elrösse taking on the family tradition," Elrohir cooed earning him a glare from Harry's direction.
The twins took a seat next to Harry and surveyed the breakfast table looking a little forlorn. Harry barely noticed as he watched as McGonagall stiffened as the twins sat down and as her normally grim mouth seemed to be twitching.
"I'm really missing venison," Elladan grumbled pouring himself Cornflakes. Hermione choked on her toast watching the twins pour breakfast cereal onto plates and stated to eat the confection dry with a fork.
"Horrible crunchy stuff," Elrohir muttered.
"I don't know how you humans can abide by it," Elladan rejoined.
Harry smiled serenely at the other end of the table, ignoring the mortified look of Hermione and McGonagall.
Harry was not amused. Not only was he in the team looking for Ravenclaw's Embroidery he was also stuck with both Elladan and Elrohir in his 'team'. Both had firmly decided that he wasn't going anywhere without their protection. And neither were amused when Harry demanded to know who was going to protect him from them. On top of Harry's misery the Weasley twins decided that they would work well with Elladan and Elrohir. Then there was Mad- Eye Moody and Mr. Tibbles as offered by Mrs. Figg. He of course was given the job of carrying the damn cat as Mr. Tibbles would only behave for him. The only good thing about Harry's team was Remus Lupin, who also seemed a little too quiet.
That left Hermione, Ron, Ginny and McGonagall to look for and destroy Hufflepuff's cup.
Heaving a meowing Mr. Tibble's over his shoulder Harry made his way towards the portkey, thankful that this mode of transportation might make his uncles shut up for a little while. Therefore he didn't see fit to tell either Elladan or Elrohir why they were touching an old mangy boot. Taking in the disgusted looks of this uncles Harry found himself quite pleased with himself. Serves them right for trying to follow him everything, he thought rather smugly.
"You'll want to hang onto the boot tighter," Harry told them, squeezing Mr. Tibbles too tight and earning him a swiped ear.
Elrohir and Elladan's faces were priceless milliseconds before they realised that there was something definitely shady about the portkey. A brief pause and then Harry's sensitive elvish ears were assailed by his uncle's identical screams for mercy….
Sorry the chapter was so short. And sorry for the delay. I was waiting for inspiration to come down and hit me on the head….didn't happen.