Conceptos básicos y definiciones

Harry woke with his knee pressed into his chest and his shoulder rammed up against a hard piece of wood. Wherever he was, it was dark with only a small source of light - too small to illuminate anything - emanating from somewhere close to his right foot.

He slowly took stock and tried to piece together what had happened to him. On the positive side, his knee didn't throb nearly as much as it had when he'd twisted it earlier.

The tenderness when he probed it was nothing compared to the pounding in his head. He felt like he'd been hit with…well, a frying pan, to be honest.

The situation came back to him in chunks, flashes of time that he tried to piece together while rearranging his body as much as he could.

The redhead was going to pay for this, he vowed. Somehow, he'd make her regret both the injuries to his head and stuffing him in…

Oh, damn. He was in a closet under the stairs. Again.

He sighed dramatically to himself and then jumped in fright when the mirror vibrated.

Neville and Hermione were under strict orders not to contact him for anything! He cursed silently and tried to wiggle it out of his pocket. The fact that they were even trying now was a testament to their concern. That or they'd been captured by Death Eaters and this whole operation was falling apart around him.

He hadn't seen a dark mark on Red's arm, and she didn't necessarily act like a witch, even. Perhaps she was simply a Muggle who was startled by him crawling into her window, startled enough to smash his face in with a pan.

"Shadow!"

Hermione's incessant whispering annoyed Harry, but he finally managed to free the mirror. He couldn't see her in it, but replied in an equally low voice.

"I'm here."

A muffled squeal answered and Harry imagined Hermione clapping a hand over her mouth to hold in her relief that he wasn't dead.

"Where are you?"

Harry considered that question. It would be flippant to answer with the truth, honestly, and would probably make Hermione's already frazzled nerves unravel further. 'Well, funny you should ask that, you see I'm folded into a cupboard under the stairs once more, in a crooked little cottage, having been stuffed here by a mad skillet-wielding Muggle after I broke into her home to hide the Horcrux, which I did to avoid being captured by the most tenacious Auror ever known to wizard-kind.'

She'd be proud of him for using the word tenacious, no doubt.

"Erm, I'm sort of…in a tight situation," he mumbled. Literally. "I, er…may need a bit of time to figure things out before I get back to you."

"Do you need help? I can send Mandrake out, or come myself."

Harry almost laughed at the idea of Neville facing off with Red and her steely gaze. If Harry was an ogre, he wondered what she'd assume Neville—who was more stocky and broader than Harry—was.

Hermione would hold her own, but for some reason, Harry wanted to take care of this particular thorn in his side without assistance. If only he could get his hands on his wand…Red would rue the day she ever lifted that pan!

Besides, Harry honestly had no idea where he was; he'd traipsed through the trees and hadn't been tracking his position well enough to explain it to her.

"No, no," he said finally. "I'll just…I'll figure it out."

Neville grabbed the mirror and Harry heard his sigh of relief. "There you are, mate. I…I thought I'd gotten you captured."

Harry forced out a small chuckle, since they couldn't see him smile. "No worries. Just a small setback. I'm just…dealing with an issue and then I'll be back."

Fact: the Muggle had the Horcrux. She'd even been burned by touching it, which made Harry feel horribly guilty, but there wasn't much he could do about it from his cramped position in the cupboard.

Fact: he needed to figure out a way to convince her that he meant her no harm, that he would gladly be on his way if she would give him the satchel and his wand back, and that he respected her cookware brandishing skills enough to never set foot in her part of the forest again.

But he had no idea how to do that.

"Alright Shadow?" Neville asked, concern filling his voice. "You're awfully quiet."

Harry bit his lip. "Necessity. I'm er…I'm sort of in a tangle here. There's this mad Muggle, you see…" Honesty was always the best policy, he decided. Or, partial honesty at least.

Hermione snatched the mirror back—Harry heard Neville yelp in protest. "Why didn't you say something?"

"She's not a threat," Harry said, glossing over the image of the pan coming at his face.

"Just…just an annoyance. She ended up with my bag…and my wand."

Hermione huffed and he heard her muttering something to Neville, but he couldn't make out the words.

"You'll just have to get them back."

He refrained from rolling his eyes, just in case she really could see him. "Well, yeah. Any suggestions would be helpful at this point. I'd prefer not to use brute force, but I'm not ruling it out completely."

Red might be determined, but she was still a tiny little thing. Harry had no doubt he could stuff her in the cupboard if she ever let go of her weapon. The idea had merit, he decided as he tried to massage the cramp out of his thigh.

"Well," Hermione sighed, "there are several approaches. You could try reasoning with her."

Harry, again, pictured the pan coming toward him. "Hmm, not so good on the reasoning thing."

"Okay, what about tricking her into giving it to you?" asked Hermione. "You're not the best liar, I know—"

"Oi!"

Hermione continued on, as if Harry hadn't said a thing, "—but I'm sure you can manage to think of something."

Harry sighed and gingerly touched the bridge of his nose, testing to see if it was broken or simply damaged. "I can try," he agreed.

"Or…well, there is another option." Hermione sounded hesitant, and there was a slightly odd tone to her voice.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry could picture the smirk on her face when he used her code name.

Behind her back, he and Neville often called Hermione 'The Brain', but they would never let her know that. Harry was fond of all his parts right where they were, thank you very much, folded as they may be at the moment.

"You could try to charm her into giving you what you want."

Harry stared into the darkness of the cupboard blankly, his mind whirling. Charm? He honestly had no idea what she was talking about.

"Er…"

"Oh, come now, Shadow, you can be very charming when you want to be."

He felt his face heat but still had no clue how he would even go about getting Red to give him his things using…charm.

"What do you do when you want me or Neville to do something for you?" Hermione asked. She sounded a tad bit exasperated with him, but Harry couldn't help it. He was rubbish with girls. It's not like he'd had years of experience dating at Hogwarts. Okay, he had none at all. His one kiss under the mistletoe with Cho and the disastrous date had sent him scurrying back to the shadows where he'd remained free from romantic

entanglements. Plus, there was a war going on. Dating opportunities were a little thin on the ground.

"I'm not going to beat her, Hermione," he sighed. "I just…I'm trying to think about how to approach it."

"Is she pretty?"

Harry grew flustered by her question and even more embarrassed when he heard Neville chuckling in the background.

"She's…erm…" He thought back to the slip of a girl with the flaming hair and fiery spirit.

Yes, he could admit she was pleasant to look at, with her bright brown eyes, curious expression, perfectly pink lips, smooth skin…

Hermione prompted him. "Yes?"

"She's…yeah, I'd say so."

"And you're a handsome man, Harry." His cheeks grew warm. "Don't you think so, Mandrake?"

The picture of Neville fleeing as he called out, "Do not drag me into this, Professor!"

made Harry smile.

"You're always telling us to use our assets, Shadow. Just…woo her a bit and talk her into giving you what you want."

Something about her statement made Harry feel funny. It didn't seem right… "But…isn't that sort of underhanded?"

Hermione huffed, but Harry could tell she wasn't really annoyed with him, just the situation. "You're not seducing her, Shadow!" Harry nearly choked at the thought.

"You're just…using your assets to the best of your abilities. Now, get out there and get on with it so you can get back here and eat. You haven't eaten for more than eight hours."

The shift in the conversation made Harry's head spin. One second she was talking about seduction, the other she was mothering him.

"Fine," he grumbled. He could hear Red talking to someone just on the other side of the door, now that he was listening for her, but he couldn't make out exactly what she was saying. "I'll talk to you later."

Harry stuffed the mirror back in his pocket and tried to imagine how on earth he was going to get himself out of this situation: both the being-stuffed-in-a-cupboard one and the girl-has-the-Horcrux one. Neither seemed promising at the moment.

*Chapter 6*: Chapter 6: Charming Your Way Out Of Stic

Author's Note: Look at how spoiled you all are! Today you get a two-for-one offer.

(And it likely has nothing to do with the fact that I mapped out the posting schedule and realized I really need to get this all done before Labor Day weekend. Probably.) On with the show!

Chapter 6: Charming Your Way Out Of Sticky Situations Or When Spellotape