FIC: Celery Soup for the Sundered Soul
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and concepts that were created by JK Rowling, and the rights to which are owned by JK Rowling, her publishers and Warner Brothers.
Read 'Perpendicular' first
Celery Soup for the Sundered Soul
A story in which Harry vanquishes Voldemort with leafy green vegetables, and Draco proves his love for Harry.
‘Draco! I’m so glad you talked me into picking up Arithmancy!’
Harry had been scribbling away at a difficult and exciting proof, but he put it aside when he saw that Draco had come to join him in the library.
‘Yes. Well. I can’t say I minded our silly little mix-up, but it wouldn’t have done for you to keep on making mistakes like that... It could have ended very badly.’
‘You were jealous, then?’ asked Harry, trying to sound unconcerned.
‘God! Feelings! No - let’s not talk about feelings.’
Harry’s attempted air of indifference began to feel a bit strained, but he thought that Draco might not have noticed, because he kept on talking.
‘I meant something quite different actually. Just look at the date that Voldemort attacked your family. The numeric potential solidly opposed any chance of his success, but he obviously didn’t know anything about Arithmancy, and he did it anyway. Of course Voldemort’s a tosser and he deserved what he got, but we can’t let something like that happen to you.’
‘I really had no idea... Would you say that Arithmancy might be a “power he knows not”?’
‘Sorry, what did you say?’ Draco had been looking quizzically at Harry’s untidy scrawl. ‘This isn’t a parchment we have to turn in, is it?’
‘Oh - no - it’s a plan, I guess. And if Voldemort never studied Arithmancy, then that’s even better. There’s this prophecy, see - apparently I can only defeat him with a “power he knows not”. Although, I suppose it could have been the celery. Look... Hang on, I’ll just expand the terms and cast a rhetorical abstract...’ Harry muttered some spells as he tapped the parchment with his wand, and then he pushed it across the table for Draco to see.
‘Well, what do you think? If you tell me that Death Eaters already do eat loads of celery I’ll be disappointed.’
‘No. No, I don’t think they do. Mother always said that Voldemort had an unhealthy disdain for vegetables, and I think Father’s mentioned that the hors-d’oevres at Death Eater orgies were always more about crackers and blinis and those little toast things than crudités. I think you’re really on to something. Do you have any idea how to get a terrorist group to start snacking on celery sticks, though?’
‘No, I haven’t had time to think about it yet: I’ve only just finished the derivation now.’
Harry considered the matter as he packed his things into his bag.
He and Draco were walking out of the library in the fading light of evening when Harry said, ‘Hermione might have some more good ideas, but I suppose we can’t go too wrong trying to plug the purity angle.’
Draco snickered. ‘We’re back to plugging perfect angles, then, are we?’
‘Prat.’ Harry elbowed him affectionately in the ribs.
* * *
‘Hermione! Your parents are dentists!’ called Harry from across the crowded common room. He strode over and flung himself down next to her on the couch in front of the fire.
‘Yes, Harry, they are.’
‘So... how do you think we can convince the Death Eaters to start eating celery?’
‘Harry, they’re dentists, not marketing executives. We could think of some ideas ourselves, or I suppose you could talk to Hannah Abbott - her mum makes up stories for the Muggle Liaison Office’s Obliviators, which is nearly the same thing, but... hang on, why do you want to convince Death Eaters to eat celery?’
Harry showed her his parchment, and leant over to speak in a lowered voice, ‘I think it might be the power that Voldemort knows not. I wrote an Arithmancy proof, and Draco checked it, so I’m pretty sure it’s right.’
Hermione looked over Harry’s work with interest. ‘Oh! This is good. You were really wasting your time with Divination, you know... Our first order of business should probably be to get Neville to develop an aggressive production plan. I’m sure we’re going to want quite a lot of celery.’ She gave him a considering look before continuing. ‘Dividing it up should be a snap...’
Harry groaned as a dainty sock-clad foot connected with his shin, and Hermione grinned wickedly.
‘...but I think it would be good to look at some stealthy targeted delivery as well as a public campaign. Draco likes to think he’s cunning, so maybe you can get him to work on that. You know, I really think this might work!’
* * *
‘How’s it going, celery boy?’ asked Draco, as he sauntered over to meet Harry. He put down a stack of books, and leant on the back of a studded wooden chair in what Harry had begun to think of as their own little corner of the library.
‘Pretty good, actually.’ Harry fidgeted with restless enthusiasm. ‘Hermione and Neville have been breeding some new kind of super-celery; Hannah and Luna have launched a celery promotion programme; and your own work on stalking and stealth distribution has been genius... We’ll have the Death Eaters turning into fluffy bunnies in no time!’
His next words were less confident. ‘I know we were assuming that I’d be able to take out Voldemort pretty easily once we’d creamed his power base, but Ron was thinking that I might not even need to if we can slip him some of Mrs. Weasley’s vegetable hater’s soup. We might be able to get Voldemort to eat some celery himself.’
Draco sat down on the edge of the table and idly paged through Harry’s notes. ‘It would be good if it worked, but I can’t imagine Voldemort suddenly turning over a new leaf... Actually, that reminds me: I was talking to Granger about possible litteromancy complications, and the ‘eats shoots and leaves’ configuration might be a problem. It’s pretty unstable, so we thought it would be best to use mature celery only. Easier too, I think. We can talk about that later, though; I came to see if you were ready for a break yet. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.’
‘Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to take off a few hours to veg out. Did you have anything in mind?’
‘I’m sure we’ll be able to think of something.’ Draco took Harry’s hand and tugged impatiently. ‘Not involving mature celery, either; I promise.’
‘”Mature” doesn’t sound so bad,’ said Harry, wriggling his eyebrows embarrassingly, ‘but you’re right - celery might actually be a bit too kinky.’
‘Harry, you’re impossible, but I... Really. Just impossible.’
* * *
‘Your group projects have been marked,’ intoned Snape. ‘Some of them were... not terrible. Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter. You will see me after class regarding your proposed variant on the Draught of Peace. I seem to remember asking for Potions research projects so we will be discussing why you have seen fit to give me your favourite soup recipe...’ His pause was calculated for maximum quelling effect, deftly showcasing the giggles and titters of some of his more sycophantic Slytherin students. ‘However. Your research has surprised me... For a well-executed inter-disciplinary project, and for identifying a promising new area of research, you may have five points for Slytherin.
‘And... also for Gryffindor.’
Harry felt a little stunned.
Snape smiled faintly. ‘It was very tasty soup.’
Harry twitched, and looked questioningly at Draco.
‘Father did say that the catering at the last few Death Eater meetings had been improved. It looks as though Snape may have made our stealth distribution plans redundant.’
‘Yes, and it looks like the celery’s working, too.’ said Harry. ‘Did you hear him? Five points for Gryffindor!’
Hermione shushed him. ‘Hush, Harry - be that as it may, I really don’t think you want to test the limits of that transformation.’
Snape was bearing down on them, scowl back in place, hair as greasy as ever, and really not looking very much like a fluffy bunny at all, so Harry was inclined to agree with her.
‘We can talk about Draco’s information at lunch time,’ she whispered reprovingly.
‘You may do that if you wish, Miss Granger,’ said Snape, in his habitually quiet and menacing tone, ‘but we will certainly be doing so after class at the very least. You will now please turn your attention to today’s assignment.’
He didn’t take points, which impressed Harry even further.
* * *
Snape continued to help distributing celery in its various forms, but he hadn’t mentioned another word of it since their discussion after his surprising Potions lesson. It was some time later that Harry and most of the others in the know had gathered to talk about the celery project’s progress over a shared picnic on the school grounds.
It was a pleasantly warm spring day, and reflections of the pale sunlight glinted off glasses and silverware. Draco had transfigured his (clean) monogrammed handkerchief into a wonderfully large rug for all of them to sit on, and he began to bring them up to speed on recent developments.
‘Snape’s been sneaking Arithmantically enhanced celery potion to the Death Eaters for some months now, and things are getting weird. Father’s been talking about a movement in the Death Eater ranks to reform the Ministry and stamp out discrimination and corruption. He’s actually really pleased, because it’s been good for his reputation, and he’s gained a lot of political influence.’
‘Reports on Death Eater activity in the Prophet have been pretty strange.’ said Hermione. ‘Do you know anything about that?’
‘Well, apparently the soup hasn’t been having such a pronounced effect on Voldemort as on his Death Eaters, so he’s still been ordering them out on missions and attacks. I suppose it’s hard to say no to his face, so they’ve been going out as ordered, but now that they’re not so driven by hatred and prejudice they’ve been finding other ways to pass the time. Helping old ladies with their shopping, rescuing kittens down from trees and that sort of thing. They still have to cast the Dark Mark though, so I suppose it has been confusing. The Prophet’s probably not making things up, for once.’
‘Voldemort’s been giving me visions of his celery anxiety,’ said Harry glumly. ‘The purity promotion has been a complete hit - he thinks he should eat celery, but it seems not to agree with him. He keeps on trying, which is good, I guess, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to eat celery again myself after this is over.’
Ron looked at him sympathetically, and tactfully didn’t offer him any of the vegetable sticks that he had been scarfing down with every appearance of great enjoyment.
* * *
Harry had been doing nothing in particular when completely without warning his next breath just wouldn’t come to him. Even with his whole concentration focused on trying to suck in another lungful air, he only managed to draw the smallest volume past his oddly constricted throat. It wasn’t enough, and as he wheezed and gasped and coughed, he strained to stand up straight to give himself the best chance of getting some air straight down. Someone was shaking him, and he tried to shrug them off. He needed all his attention just to focus on getting another and then yet another all too small gasp of air, and whoever it was was distracting him.
‘Harry!’
Despite his persistent efforts to inhale enough air to keep himself going, he continued to be denied relief. He simply couldn’t make his body breathe, and his concern began to escalate into real fear. He felt a searing pain in his scar, and when dizziness set in, he realised that he may have actually breathed his last.
‘Harry, wake up!’
He felt more unwelcome shaking, and then a shockingly hard slap across his face. He started, and opened his eyes to see Draco looking down at him with concern. ‘Breathe now,’ he urged, and Harry was surprised to find that he could.
‘God, don’t ever do that again,’ said Draco, and his voice had turned cold and accusing. ‘You were turning blue, you know.’ He sat back against the head of the bed with his knees drawn up, and he pulled his green quilt up to his chin so that Harry was left with a large pocket of cold air between himself and the bed covers.
Harry was quick to sit up too after that, and he shuffled over to press against Draco’s side. ‘Draco-’ he began, only to falter in dismay when he felt his partner stiffen beside him. He reached for Draco’s hand regardless, and searched for the right words to continue, but he was interrupted before he could find either.
‘Just... Don’t.’
And with that, Draco got out of the bed and walked away, leaving Harry alone in the Slytherin boys’ dorm.
* * *
The next morning turned out to be rather interesting, but Draco remained conspicuously absent throughout. Harry didn’t even try to convince himself that it didn’t hurt, but he did try to ignore it.
Straight after breakfast, he roped Hermione into going to see Snape with him. They were on relatively good terms these days, but had decided not to test whether his new found amiability would extend to Ron as well. When Harry had mentioned going to see the professor, Ron had manfully refrained from railing against greasy gits and slimy Slytherins, but his wholly unguarded expression betrayed his distaste as he insisted that he was more than happy to stay out of Snape’s way. Harry supposed that he had a point - if he hadn’t been in advanced potions to see Snape change for himself, he would have been just as sceptical.
‘Sir, do you know if anything unusual happened to Voldemort early this morning?’ asked Harry.
Snape rolled up his left sleeve, and Harry saw that his Mark had faded to a faint and silvery scar.
‘You should tell me everything you know or suspect to be relevant,’ said Snape, as he re-buttoned his cuff.
So Harry told him about his dream, and though he mentioned that his scar had pained him cripplingly while asleep, and then faded unaccountably fairly soon after, he kept the details of his own breathing difficulties and his troubled awakening to himself.
‘You were right to bring this to my attention,’ Snape commended them. ‘I shall see about investigating circumstances more closely immediately.’
* * *
By lunch time it had spread around the whole school (and probably a good way across the country too, thought Harry) that Voldemort had been found dead that morning with a chunk of celery obstructing his airway. Though everyone else seemed overjoyed, and afternoon classes were cancelled to mark the momentous event, Harry felt flat and unfulfilled, and beset with an unfamiliar lack of purpose.
He was sitting alone on his bed in the Gryffindor dorm later that afternoon when Draco came in to see him.
‘Harry, you know I don’t like to talk about feelings and shit, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Also, you are aware that I am pragmatic, manly, and not at all romantic.’
‘Of course. I know.’
‘Well. I was thinking. About what a good idea your celery proof was, and... and how well it worked. So I thought that maybe I should derive a proof, too.’ Sheepishly, he handed Harry a small page inscribed with his beautiful copperplate, and then stepped back to lean on the door frame.
‘Oh. That’s...Mm...’ Harry slid off his bed and went over to place a gentle kiss on Draco’s lips.
Draco let him, but then he wrapped his arms around Harry and pressed his face into Harry’s neck. Harry returned his embrace and rubbed his cheek against Draco’s fine hair, realising that this was probably as close to an up-front apology as he was ever going to get from him.
‘Only you, Draco, would take it upon yourself to resolve an explosive axiom set to prove your love for me. This doesn’t let you off the hook for acting like an arse this morning. But.’ Harry hugged him tighter. ‘Well... You know I love you too, git.’
END
Note the First: I have often wondered at the sheer lack of common sense that many witches and wizards seem to demonstrate, but I suppose that if Harry’s celery proof is representative of the sort of reasoning they are taught in school, then it might be difficult for many to distinguish between properly sound reasoning and Arithmantic principles. On the other hand, Draco’s proof is actually valid in conventional classical logic, even though it’s controversial: most serious thinkers would either disallow the form of the initial premise or reject the disjunctive syllogism that gives the final conclusion. Putting them together as Draco has gives results that are officially called ‘explosive’, since ex contradictione quodlibet or ‘from a contradiction - everything [is provable].’ I suppose the magical part is in containing the explosion.
Note the Second: It surprised me, when I went to take photographs for this piece, that an institution as steeped in tradition as Hogwarts should use modern square chinaware. It would seem that the board of governors adopted the trend on account of its nutritional advantage: though the students are permitted to choose what they put on their plates, the new china ensures that they nonetheless receive three square meals a day.