“I guess, if you have to get a replacement broom, then you should get the best one that there is,” Luna said.
“I just wonder what kind of dent, if any, it puts in my account,” Harry said.
Harry didn’t have a very clear idea of how he had managed to get back into the Honeydukes cellar, through the tunnel and into the castle once more.
“You mind is clearly on what your book self has just learned,” Hermione said. “I have to wonder, though, how it is that you yourself haven't gotten angry at what you just heard?”
“Because of yours and Luna's theories,” Harry said. “You've pointed quite a bit that doesn't support the conclusions they came up with, it's hard to be angry towards Black knowing this.”
“Well, I have the feeling that your book self will probably not even realize these holes, particularly since you don't have a source of information as you do with Luna here,” Cedric said.
All he knew was that the return trip seemed to take no time at all, and that he hardly noticed what he was doing, because his head was still pounding with the conversation he had just heard.
“I wonder how long this is going to be on my mind,” Harry said.
“Probably for the first half of this chapter,” Hermione said. “Until something else comes along.”
Why had nobody ever told him? Dumbledore, Hagrid, Mr. Weasley, Cornelius Fudge ... why hadn’t anyone ever mentioned the fact that Harry’s parents had died because their best friend had betrayed them?
“Probably because they think that that your too young to know,” Hermione said. “They think your just a kid, remember. They're no way you could handle being told this, after all.” Her tone was on the last phrase was completely sarcastic.
Ron and Hermione watched Harry nervously all through dinner,
“Of course we're watching your nervously. We have no idea what's going on in your head at the moment, and a revelation like that probably has us worried that your going to explode about it,” Hermione said.
not daring to talk about what they’d overheard, because Percy was sitting close by them.
“Yeah, really don't need to get myself in trouble because we weren't careful about who may hear us,” Harry said.
When they went upstairs to the crowded common room, it was to find Fred and George had set off half-a-dozen Dungbombs in a fit of end-of-term high spirits.
“I feel sorry for you guys,” Cedric said. “Hopefully the smell won't stay there for long.”
Harry, who didn’t want Fred and George asking him whether he’d reached Hogsmeade or not, sneaked quietly up to the empty dormitory, and headed straight for his bedside cabinet. He pushed his books aside and quickly found what he was looking for – the leather-bound photo album Hagrid had given him two years ago, which was full of wizard pictures of his mother and father.
“You think you'll find a picture of Black in there,” Hermione said.
“I'm sure I will, at least one,” Harry said. “Remember, it did say he was the best man at my parents wedding, so, if I have a picture of that, he'll most likely be in it. This way, I can probably get a picture of what he looked like before his Azkaban trip.”
He sat down on his bed, drew the hangings around him, and started turning the pages, searching, until ...
He stopped on a picture of his parents’ wedding day. There was his father waving up at him, beaming, the untidy black hair Harry had inherited standing up in all directions. There was his mother, alight with happiness, arm in arm with his Dad. And there ... that must be him. Their best man ... Harry had never given him a thought before.
“I don't really understand why I would,” Harry said. “I mean, I might have wondered who he was before, but my parents are kind of my focus when I look through that album.”
If he hadn’t known it was the same person, he would never have guessed it was Black in this old photograph. His face wasn’t sunken and waxy, but handsome, full of laughter.
“I guess Azkaban would do that to you,” Cedric said.
Had he already been working for Voldemort when this picture had been taken?
“It's possible, though I don't think he'd join a faction unless your father was a part of it,” Luna said.
Was he already planning the deaths of the two people next to him?
“Since we know that Riddle was after you, I doubt that, if Black was a follower of Riddle, he would already be planning their deaths. He most likely would have already killed them if that was the case,” Hermione said.
Did he realise he was facing twelve years in Azkaban, twelve years which would make him unrecognisable?
“I doubt he realized that he'd ever go to Azkaban,” Cedric said.
But the Dementors don’t affect him, Harry thought, staring into the handsome, laughing face. He doesn’t have to hear my Mum screaming if they get too close –
“Actually, we don't know how they affect him,” Luna said. “He just probably has a way not to feel their effects a lot. I mean, how else would he appear sane otherwise. I can't think of anyone actually being sane without some kind of help when around the Dementors.”
"Plus, I have the feeling that he would have to be there for that to happen," Cedric said. "I don't think you can be affected by anything but actual memories that you hold."
Harry slammed the album shut, reached over and stuffed it back into his cabinet, took off his robes and glasses and got into bed, making sure the hangings were hiding him from view.
“I take it that you just don't want to think any more, nor do you want to be disturbed,” Hermione said.
“Most likely,” Harry said.
“Your going to be stewing over this, I just know it,” Luna said.
The dormitory door opened.
“Harry?” said Ron’s voice uncertainly.
“I wonder if he actually wants to deal with me,” Harry said.
“He's probably not sure if he wanted to or not,” Hermione said.
But Harry lay still, pretending to be asleep. He heard Ron leave again, and rolled over on his back, his eyes wide open.
A hatred such as he had never known before was coursing through Harry like poison.
“It's going to suck hearing me think these things since I don't have all the information,” Harry said.
“Or at least having theories that point to something else,” Luna said.
“That too,” Harry said. “That too.”
He could see Black laughing at him through the darkness, as though somebody had pasted the picture from the album over his eyes. He watched, as though somebody was playing him a piece of film, Sirius Black blasting Peter Pettigrew (who resembled Neville Longbottom) into a thousand pieces.
“I suppose that, when hearing what Pettigrew was like, Neville is the best person to imagine him as, since you don't know what he looks like and, as far as book you knows, he is innocent,” Hermione said.
“Yeah, while book me is right to think of Neville, I think that thinking of Crabbe or Goyle would actually be better, particularly since Pettigrew is most likely the bad guy in that scenario,” Harry said.
“That's true,” Cedric said.
He could hear (though he had no idea what Black’s voice might sound like) a low, excited mutter. “It has happened, my Lord ... the Potters have made me their Secret Keeper ...” And then came another voice, laughing shrilly, the same laugh that Harry heard inside his head whenever the Dementors drew near …
“It's so nice to be me,” Harry said sarcastically.
“Harry, you – you look terrible.”
“Gee, thanks...which ever one of you two that said that,” Harry said.
Harry hadn’t got to sleep until daybreak.
“So, basically, you stayed up all night,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Shame on you Harry, you should actually sleep at night.”
He had awoken to find the dormitory deserted, dressed and gone down the spiral staircase to a common room that was completely empty except for Ron, who was eating a Peppermint Toad and massaging his stomach, and Hermione, who had spread her homework over three tables.
“I wonder what time it is,” Harry said.
“It's probably a definite that it's after breakfast,” Cedric said. “And, it's also probably a definite that the students going home are already on the train to do so as well.”
“Where is everyone?” said Harry.
“I think I forgot that it's the first day of the holidays,” Harry said.
“Seems that way,” Hermione said.
“Gone! It’s the first day of the holidays, remember?” said Ron, watching Harry closely.
“I think he expects you to react differently than you are right now,” Cedric said.
“Most likely,” Luna said.
“It’s nearly lunchtime, I was going to come and wake you up in a minute.”
“Actually, it would probably be better for him to have let you sleep, since you didn't get much the night before,” Luna said.
“Which he kind of did since I woke up on my own,” Harry said.
“Only out of fortunate luck,” Luna shot back. “Had you not have been ready to get up then, he would have woken you up anyway.”
Harry slumped into a chair next to the fire. Snow was still falling outside the windows. Crookshanks was spread out in front of the fire like a large, ginger rug.
“No one better step on him,” Hermione said.
“You really don’t look well, you know,” Hermione said, peering anxiously into his face.
“Are you repeating yourself, or are you agreeing with Ron?” Harry asked.
“No idea, I'm not there,” Hermione said. “I haven't lived this yet, because, if I had, then you wouldn't need to ask that.”
“I’m fine,” said Harry.
“You shouldn't lie to your friends,” Luna said. “It doesn't do you any good.”
“Harry, listen,” said Hermione, exchanging a look with Ron,
“I have the feeling that they probably rehearsed a conversation about you and are about to put it into motion,” Cedric said.
“Yeah, so do I,” Harry said. “And it's probably about about we heard about Black.”
“you must be really upset about what we heard yesterday. But the thing is, you mustn’t go doing anything stupid.”
“That kind of is a good concern. I mean, your book self does seem likely to do something stupid,” Luna said.
“Gee, thanks,” Harry said sarcastically. “Still, I don't think I'll actually go after Black, no matter how much I might want to get revenge.”
“Like what?” said Harry.
“Like trying to go after Black,” said Ron sharply.
Harry could tell they had rehearsed this conversation while he had been asleep.
“I guess you can tell it has been rehearsed,” Hermione said.
He didn’t say anything.
“You won’t, will you, Harry?” said Hermione.
“Because Black’s not worth dying for,” said Ron.
“That is true,” Hermione said. “You really shouldn't go after him, because, if he did want you dead, you end up dead.”
Harry looked at them. They didn’t seem to understand at all.
“D’you know what I see and hear every time a Dementor gets too near me?” Ron and Hermione shook their heads, looking apprehensive.
“We're probably afraid to hear what it is, particularly since you have quite a plethora of memories to go through that we already know about,” Hermione said.
“I can hear my mum screaming and pleading with Voldemort.”
“While that's bad, the fact that she was so desperate to protect you would also point out that she would not want you going after someone who helped bring about her death,” Hermione said. “She'd want you to live and be careful.”
“I notice you don't mention what she'd pleading about,” Luna said. “You really should; it's a rather important part of what she was trying to prevent.”
“And if you’d heard your mum screaming like that, just about to be killed, you wouldn’t forget it in a hurry.”
“I don't think anyone would,” Cedric said.
“And if you found out someone who was supposed to be a friend of hers betrayed her and sent Voldemort after her –“
“Technically, it's your father he's the friend of, not your mother,” Luna said. “Though I supposed that you are right, it would be hard to take if that did happen.”
“There’s nothing you can do!” said Hermione, looking stricken.
“Right now, that's very true,” Hermione said. “If you went after him, with him knowing more spells than you do, then you'd most likely end up in big trouble, which would be in the opposite of what your mother was trying to achieve.”
“The Dementors will catch Black and he’ll go back to Azkaban and – and serve him right!”
“Actually, I doubt he'd actually go back to Azkaban,” Cedric said. “I mean, if he could escape it once, then wouldn't it make sense that he could do it again. No, I'd imagine that he would be given a punishment much worse than going back to Azkaban.”
“You heard what Fudge said. Black isn’t affected by Azkaban like normal people are. It’s not a punishment for him like it is for the others.”
“True, though I do wonder how he was able to keep from being affected so,” Cedric said. “I mean, he isn't allowed a wand, after all.”
“So he's going around without a wand,” Hermione said.
“Seems so,” Cedric said.
“So what are you saying?” said Ron, looking very tense. “You want to – to kill Black or something?”
“I have the feeling that you might feel like that, but I also don't think that you'd actually be able to do it unless you had no other choice,” Luna said.
“Don’t be silly,” said Hermione in a panicky voice. “Harry doesn’t want to kill anyone, do you, Harry?”
“There is probably a part of me that does want him dead,” Harry said. “At least, a part of my book self. I mean, as far as my book self knows, Black is just as responsible for my parents death as Riddle is.”
Again, Harry didn’t answer. He didn’t know what he wanted to do. All he knew was that the idea of doing nothing, while Black was at liberty, was almost more than he could stand.
“Yeah, that probably would rankle you a bit,” Hermione said.
“Malfoy knows,” he said abruptly.
“There could have been another reason why Malfoy would say that, though,” Luna said. “I mean, if we're right with what we said in the last chapter, then Black actually being a follower of Riddle is suspect as well, and Malfoy could have simply just been saying that in hopes of Black being killed or something of that nature.”
“But what would have to gain if Black actually died?” Harry asked. “I mean, we know that me dying would mean he wouldn't have to put up with me and would actually be able to beat Gryffindor in a Quidditch match, but I don't see what Black being dead would have to do with anything.”
The others laughed a bit at the mention of the only way Malfoy would be able to beat Gryffindor in a Quidditch match, but quieted down as they tried to think of what it might be.
“His mother was a Black, if I remember correctly,” Cedric said. “In fact, I think she was a cousin of Sirius Black, on his mother's side of the family.”
“Black would be the head of the Black family by now,” Luna said. “Which means that he controls the majority of the Black money, among other things. If Black were to disappear, then...”
“Then the money would go to the next family member, which would most likely be Malfoy, since he's the next male family member, or, at least, that's what your saying” Hermione said, looking at Luna. “Of course, this also only works if the Blacks still have money.”
“No, that's not right,” Cedric said. “The first part, not the last, since, as far as I know, the Blacks still do have the money. It would, unless Black has a will that gets followed, go to Harry. He's got a higher claim to it than Malfoy. His grandmother was Dorea Potter nee Black, who was never disowned, and, therefore, allows Harry to be retained in the family, unless the head of the house before Black disowned him. And, if said head of house didn't disown Black...”
“Then why would he disown Harry,” Hermione said.
“Exactly,” Cedric said. “No, I would imagine that there is another reason for Malfoy's comment.”
“I'm related to Black,” Harry said, that really being the only part of the explanation he caught. “Why wasn't that mentioned before? And how exactly do you know that?”
“Yes you are related to Black. I didn't really think about it until Luna mentioned that Black was the head of house and that Hermione suspected that the money and title would go to Malfoy as the next male descendent for the family, since, technically, you are – at least, I think you are, it's kind of hard to know how it goes, since it's so screwed up – and I know that you are because I know of most of the pure-blood lines of my family, and I myself have a Black family member, though said member is farther back than your family member. I got curious about it, though, and looked it up,” Cedric explained. “Being pure-blooded means that you at least have some relation to another. Most of the fanatics are around being fifth cousins to each other, if not even closer. In fact, as far as I know, the only person you can't marry is your sibling or parents. Other relations is fair game.”
“Nice,” Hermione said, shaking her head, and sounding a bit disgusted to know that. Then again, she wasn't sure why it was surprising her.
“Exactly how did we get on this subject anyway?” Harry said. “I mean, we were just trying to figure out why Malfoy had said what he did about Black a few chapters back.”
“I think that is how we got on the subject, doing just that,” Hermione said. “The subject only slightly changed when you found out that your grandmother is a Black.”
“Right,” Harry said, motioning for Cedric to continue with the chapter. He had a feeling that they'd probably spend even more time talking about that subject if they continued it.
“Remember what he said to me in Potions? 'If it was me, I’d hunt him down myself ... I’d want revenge.' “
“You’re going to take Malfoy’s advice instead of ours?” said Ron furiously.
“No, I did not say that. I simply mentioned that he already knew what was mentioned in the last chapter,” Harry said.
“Listen ... you know what Pettigrew’s mother got back after Black had finished with him? Dad told me – the Order of Merlin, First Class, and Pettigrew’s finger in a box. That was the biggest bit of him they could find.”
“Somehow, I get the feeling that it's really the only bit they could find,” Hermione said. “That and his robes...”
Her eyes widened at that, having kind of missed it when she first read the previous chapter. She kind of wished that she hadn't left her notebook in the dorm room, but then realized that, even if she did forget about this, she would end up reading about it again anyway, and be able to make a note about it then.
None of the others noticed that she had trailed off, nor did they notice her eyes widening after she said that.
“Black’s a madman, Harry, and he’s dangerous –“
“Malfoy’s dad must have told him,” said Harry,
“Most likely,” Luna said.
ignoring Ron. “He was right in Voldemort’s inner circle –“
“Say You-Know-Who, will you?” interjected Ron angrily.
“No,” Harry said.
“He's already known you for two years. Doesn't he realize that you won't ever be afraid to say the name and that you will not simply cater to his wishes,” Hermione said.
“– so obviously, the Malfoys knew Black was working for Voldemort –“
“The reverse is true as well, though,” Luna said. “They could also know that Black is innocent, which they are probably cruel enough to laugh about when they talk about it, if that's the case. I mean, the real follower is out in the streets while the false one is in Azkaban. That's probably something that they love mentioning to others like them whenever they get the chance to.”
“– and Malfoy’d love to see you blown into about a million pieces, like Pettigrew! Get a grip, Malfoy’s just hoping you’ll get yourself killed before he has to play you at Quidditch.”
“Apparently you and Ron have the same thought about Malfoy,” Hermione said.
“Harry, please,” said Hermione, her eyes now shining with tears,
“I think your scaring me with your talk of going after Black, and possibly getting hurt or killed,” Hermione said.
“please be sensible. Black did a terrible, terrible thing, but d-don’t put yourself in danger, it’s what Black wants ...”
“If he wanted you dead, then Hermione is right, it is what he wants,” Luna said.
“oh, Harry, you’d be playing right into Black’s hands if you went looking for him. Your mum and dad wouldn’t want you to get hurt, would they? They’d never want you to go looking for Black!”
“That's probably true, though, even if you've never heard them say it,” Luna said. “Just because you've never known them doesn't mean that you can't figure out what they'd want through common sense.”
“Though it is a bit tackless to talk about his parents like that,” Hermione said.
“I’ll never know what they’d have wanted because, thanks to Black, I’ve never spoken to them,” said Harry shortly.
There was a silence, in which Crookshanks stretched luxuriously, flexing his claws. Ron’s pocket quivered.
“It's like Scabbers can tell that Crookshanks is flexing his claws there,” Hermione said.
“Look,” said Ron, obviously casting around for a change of subject,
“Yeah, I suppose that it's not easy to say something to what Harry just said without sounding even more tackless,” Hermione said.
“it’s the holidays! It’s nearly Christmas! Let’s – let’s go down and see Hagrid. We haven’t visited him for ages!”
“That's a good idea.” Harry said.
“No!” said Hermione quickly. “Harry isn’t supposed to leave the castle, Ron –“
“And I'm probably allowed out when it's daytime, and I'll probably want to see Hagrid anyway, though mostly to ask him why he never bothered to mention Black when he told me about my parents,” Harry said, looking at her. “No offense Hermione, but I'm not liking your book self right now; I mean, she had it her way, I'd never be allowed to leave the castle, for anything. Also, if I wasn't supposed to leave the castle, I would be able to take Care of Magical Creatures, since that's outside.”
“With a teacher,” Hermione pointed out. “Remember, Professor McGonagall originally didn't want you playing Quidditch because there was no teacher to watch you.”
“Yeah, let’s go,” said Harry, sitting up, “and I can ask him how come he never mentioned Black when he told me all about my parents!”
“He kind of didn't have to tell you anything,” Luna said. “He really only had to tell you the basics.”
Further discussion of Sirius Black plainly wasn’t what Ron had had in mind.
“Or we could have a game of chess,” he said hastily, “or Gobstones. Percy left a set –“
“I think I'm going to now be set on visiting Hagrid,” Harry said.
“No, let’s visit Hagrid,” said Harry firmly.
“You know, I have to wonder exactly how your going to asked Hagrid about it. I do hope you won't get mad at him, though,” Luna said. “He doesn't deserve to be yell at, especially since it's not his job to tell you everything.”
“Then whose 'job' is it?” Harry asked, merely curious. As he didn't think Black had been the reason for his parents deaths – the evidence given during the last chapter, for at least Pettigrew's death showed that there was something wrong, along with on what he said before he died, the trying to get people attention, also seemed wrong.
And then there was the fact that Luna was pretty sure that Black had taken the godparent oath that would have killed him had he actually done what it said he had done – plus the way that Black and his father were said to have acted, there didn't seem a way for him to have turned without his father noticing it, being as close as they were. Of course, there was also the fact that, with how close they were, it was very doubtful that either one would turn traitor to the other. He just couldn't imagine it, not if they were as close as said to be.
“The headmaster's,” Luna said. “He seems to have taken partial guardianship towards you – its the only way he could have put you with the Dursleys, after all – so it's his responsibility that you learn what you need to know.”
“He seems to be doing a smash up job of that, does he?” Hermione said sarcastically, making a mental note about this.
So they got their cloaks from their dormitories and set off through the portrait hole (“Stand and fight, you yellow-bellied mongrels!”),
“How long are we going to have him?” Hermione asked.
“Don't know. For all we know, the Fat Lady could have decided not to come back until Black is caught or for sure no where near the Hogwarts,” Cedric said.
“That not an answer I like hearing,” Harry said, frowning.
down through the empty castle and out through the oak front doors.
They made their way slowly down the lawn, making a shallow trench in the glittering, powdery snow, their socks and the hems of their cloaks soaked and freezing.
“I think we need to charm out cloaks and socks to keep them from getting wet,” Hermione said. Harry nodded in agreement.
The Forbidden Forest looked as though it had been enchanted, each tree smattered with silver,
“Still don't think it would be a good idea to go in there, though,” Cedric said.
and Hagrid’s cabin looked like an iced cake.
“That sounds like it would be a nice picture to see,” Hermione said.
Ron knocked, but there was no answer.
“He’s not out, is he?” said Hermione, who was shivering under her cloak.
Ron had his ear to the door.
“There’s a weird noise,” he said. “Listen – is that Fang?”
Harry and Hermione put their ears to the door, too. From inside the cabin came a series of low, throbbing moans.
“I don't think it's Fang,” Cedric said.
“Think we’d better go and get someone?” said Ron nervously.
“That would probably be best. Hagrid could be hurt,” Hermione said.
“Hagrid!” called Harry, thumping the door. “Hagrid, are you in there?”
“Or, you can be insensitive as Harry is being right now,” Luna said, shaking her head.
There was a sound of heavy footsteps, then the door creaked open. Hagrid stood there with his eyes red and swollen; tears splashing down the front of his leather waistcoat.
“What happened?” Hermione said, worried.
“Yeh’ve heard!” he bellowed,
“No, we haven't heard anything,” Harry said.
and he flung himself onto Harry’s neck.
“Ow,” Harry said, wincing.
Hagrid being at least twice the size of a normal man, this was no laughing matter. Harry, about to collapse under Hagrid’s weight, was rescued by Ron and Hermione, who each seized Hagrid under an arm and heaved him, Harry helping, back into the cabin.
“I hope that he helps you guys out a little bit,” Cedric said.
Hagrid allowed himself to be steered into a chair and slumped over the table, sobbing uncontrollably, his face glazed with tears which dripped down into his tangled beard.
“That's going to be extremely worrying to see,” Harry said.
“Hagrid, what is it?” said Hermione, aghast.
Harry spotted an official-looking letter lying open on the table.
“Oh no,” Cedric said, remembering what had happened in Hagrid's first class. It had completely been pushed into the back of his mind with everything else being revealed, particularly what had been read and discussed in the previous chapter.
“What’s this, Hagrid?”
Hagrid’s sobs redoubled,
“It's bad news, whatever it is,” Hermione said.
but he shoved the letter towards Harry, who picked it up and read aloud:
Dear Mr. Hagrid,
Further to our inquiry into the attack by a Hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident.
“It's the results of the complaint that Malfoy's father brought to the school governors,” Hermione said.
“That doesn't sound like it's bad news, though,” Harry said.
“We know he's keeping his job, but it hasn't mentioned that nothing is going to happen to Buckbeak,” Luna said.
“Whatever has been decided about Buckbeak isn't good news,” Cedric said.
“Well, that’s okay, then, Hagrid!” said Ron, clapping Hagrid on the shoulder. But Hagrid continued to sob, and waved one of his gigantic hands, inviting Harry to read on.
However, we must register our concern about the Hippogriff in question.
“And here it comes,” Hermione said.
We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr. Lucius Malfoy,
“Meaning that he probably complained until he got his way, that, or he threatened and blackmailed them again,” Hermione said.
and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures.
“So there giving it to someone who Malfoy's father will most likely bribe,” Harry said.
The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and your Hippogriff at the Committee’s offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the Hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated.
“That's cruel towards Buckbeak,” Hermione said. “He doesn't deserved to be forced to be left alone because Mr. Malfoy's son is a idiot.”
Yours in fellowship ...
There followed a list of the school governors.
“Oh,” said Ron. “But you said Buckbeak isn’t a bad Hippogriff, Hagrid. I bet he’ll get off –“
“Consider who it is that's bringing the complaint, and, as much as I hate to say this, Buckbeak doesn't have a chance,” Hermione said. “If Mr. Malfoy isn't positive in being given a the verdict he wants, he'll make it happen through blackmail or bribes.”
“Yeh don’ know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o’ Dangerous Creatures!” choked Hagrid, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “They’ve got it in fer interestin’ creatures!”
“When it comes to Hagrid, he's a bit biased, as most of the creatures he considered interesting are, in truth, dangerous,” Hermione said, thinking about Norbert, Aragog, and Fluffy. “However, when you consider that, Buckbeak isn't in the same level. In fact, by Hagrid's usual standards, he's positively cute.”
A sudden sound from the corner of Hagrid’s cabin made Harry, Ron and Hermione whip around. Buckbeak the Hippogriff was lying in the corner, chomping on something that was oozing blood all over the floor.
“Of course, when faced with a seen like that, it's hard to believe him to be that way,” Hermione said, looking green.
“I couldn’ leave him tied up out there in the snow!” choked Hagrid. “All on his own! At Christmas!”
“I agree with Hagrid, Buckbeak shouldn't be left alone at Christmas,” Luna said.
Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other. They had never seen eye to eye with Hagrid about what he called ‘interesting creatures’ and other people called ‘terrifying monsters’. On the other hand, there didn’t seem to be any particular harm in Buckbeak. In fact, by Hagrid’s usual standards, he was positively cute.
“I think I just said that,” Hermione said.
“You’ll have to put up a good strong defence, Hagrid,” said Hermione,
“Not that it'll do much good,” Hermione said, shaking her head at how naïve she was being. Cedric would have objected – his father worked for the department that housed the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures – but even he knew that she was right. While he knew his father was a good man at home, and suspected it to be the same at work, Cedric did have some worry about how he actually was at work.
sitting down and laying a hand on Hagrid’s massive forearm. “I’m sure you can prove Buckbeak is safe.”
“Won’ make no diff’rence!” sobbed Hagrid. “Them Disposal devils, they’re all in Lucius Malfoy’s pocket!”
Just like the Minister Cedric thought.
“Scared o’ him! An’ if I lose the case, Buckbeak –“
“It won't be good,” Hermione said.
“Why can't Dumbledore do something?” Harry said.
“He probably has done what he could,” Cedric said. “Or, rather, what he's willing to do, at the very least.”
There were some scowls at that.
Hagrid drew his finger swiftly across his throat, then gave a great wail and lurched forwards, his face in his arms.
“What about Dumbledore, Hagrid?” said Harry.
“Apparently your book self believes that Dumbledore can do something as well,” Hermione said.
“He’s done more’n enough fer me already,” groaned Hagrid.
“Well, I have the feeling that even if Dumbledore can do more, Hagrid won't let him,” Cedric said.
“Got enough on his plate what with keepin’ them Dementors outta the castle, an’ Sirius Black lurkin’ around –“
“I hope you don't start berating Hagrid now that you have a reminder of why you wanted to visit him,” Hermione said.
“I don't think I can bring myself to do it when he's so miserable,” Cedric said.
Ron and Hermione looked quickly at Harry, as though expecting him to start berating Hagrid for not telling him the truth about Black.
“Apparently book me thinks you'll do it as well,” Hermione said.
But Harry couldn’t bring himself to do it, not now he saw Hagrid so miserable and scared.
“Looks like I was right, I'm not able to berate him when he's so miserable already,” Harry said.
“Listen, Hagrid,” he said, “you can’t give up. Hermione’s right, you just need a good defence. You can call us as witnesses –“
“We were there, after all. Buckbeak can't be blamed for Malfoy's stupidity and want to disrupt the class,” Hermione said.
“I’m sure I’ve read about a case of Hippogriff-baiting,” said Hermione thoughtfully, “where the Hippogriff got off.”
I seem to be forgetting who the person complaining isHermione thought.
“I’ll look it up for you, Hagrid, and see exactly what happened.”
Hagrid howled still more loudly. Harry and Hermione looked at Ron to help them.
“Yeah, he's the only one who hasn't said anything about helping Hagrid yet,” Luna said.
“Er – shall I make a cup of tea?” said Ron.
Harry stared at him.
“I'd be doing the same thing if he was here,” Cedric said.
“It’s what my mum does whenever someone’s upset,” Ron muttered, shrugging.
“So he's got nothing definitive to help,” Harry said.
"I'm sure the tea will help calm Hagrid, though," Luna said.
At last, after many more assurances of help, with a steaming mug of tea in front of him, Hagrid blew his nose on a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth and said, “Yer right. I can’ afford to go ter pieces. Gotta pull meself together ...”
Fang the boarhound came timidly out from under the table and laid his head on Hagrid’s knee.
“I don't think Fang wanted to deal with Hagrid when he was in that state,” Cedric said.
“I’ve not bin meself lately,” said Hagrid, stroking Fang with one hand and mopping his face with the other. “Worried abou’ Buckbeak, an’ no one likin’ me classes –“
“We do like them!” lied Hermione at once.
“Yeah, they’re great!” said Ron, crossing his fingers under the table.
“At least you're trying to make him feel better,” Cedric said.
“Er – how are the Flobberworms?”
“Dead,” said Hagrid gloomily. “Too much lettuce.”
“Oh, no!” said Ron, his lip twitching.
“He better not laugh,” Hermione said.
“An’ them Dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an’ all,” said Hagrid,
“That'll keep Ron from laughing,” Cedric said.
with a sudden shudder. “Gotta walk past ’em ev’ry time I want a drink in the Three Broomsticks. ’S like bein’ back in Azkaban –“
Hermione frowned at that, remembering how he'd been sent there in the previous book, for no reason other than the Minister having to be seen like he was doing something, instead of actually bothering to do anything.
He fell silent, gulping his tea. Harry, Ron and Hermione watched him breathlessly. They had never heard Hagrid talk about his brief spell in Azkaban before. After a brief pause, Hermione said timidly, “Is it awful in there, Hagrid?”
“I don't even know why I'm asking. Knowing how the Dementors work, it's obvious that it's an awful place,” Hermione said.
“Yeh’ve no idea,” said Hagrid quietly. “Never bin anywhere like it. Thought I was goin’ mad. Kep’ goin’ over horrible stuff in me mind ... the day I got expelled from Hogwarts ... day me Dad died ... day I had ter let Norbert go ...”
“He would consider that a bad memory,” Harry mutter, shaking his head. Had it not had the first to things mentioned, he might've laughed in a 'only Hagrid' way, but the two things mentioned beforehand prevented that.
His eyes filled with tears. Norbert was the baby dragon Hagrid had once won in a game of cards.
“Yeh can’ really remember who yeh are after a while. An’ yeh can’ see the point o’ livin’ at all. I used ter hope I’d jus’ die in me sleep ...”
“I'm glad he was released,” Hermione said.
“Me too,” Harry said
“when they let me out, it was like bein’ born again, ev’rythin’ came floodin’ back, it was the bes’ feelin’ in the world. Mind, the Dementors weren’t keen on lettin’ me go.”
“But he was innocent,” Hermione said.
“Somehow, I don't think it matters to them,” Cedric said. “After all, pretty much everyone on the train was innocent, and it didn't stop them from trying to attack, now did it.”
“True,” Hermione said.
“But you were innocent!” said Hermione.
Hagrid snorted.
“Think that matters to them? They don’ care. Long as they’ve got a couple o’ hundred humans stuck there with ’em, so they can leech all the happiness out of ’em, they don’ give a damn who’s guilty an’ who’s not.”
“I wonder if it's possible for them to actually completely rid a human of their happy thoughts, even if they leave them,” Harry mused, mostly to himself.
Hagrid went quiet for a moment, staring into his tea. Then he said quietly, “Thought o’ jus’ letting Buckbeak go ... tryin’ ter make him fly away ... but how d’yeh explain ter a Hippogriff it’s gotta go inter hidin’?”
“I don't think you can, not without having someone else with him,” Luna said.
“An’ – an’ I’m scared o’ breakin’ the law ...” He looked up at them, tears leaking down his face again. “I don’ ever want ter go back ter Azkaban.”
“And we don't want you to ever go there either,” Hermione said.
The trip to Hagrid’s, though far from fun, had nevertheless had the effect Ron and Hermione had hoped. Though Harry had by no means forgotten about Black, he couldn’t brood constantly on revenge if he wanted to help Hagrid win his case against the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures.
“Yeah, I can see why that would be hard to do,” Harry said.
He, Ron and Hermione went to the library next day, and returned to the empty common room laden with books which might help prepare a defence for Buckbeak. The three of them sat in front of the roaring fire, slowly turning the pages of dusty volumes about famous cases of marauding beasts, speaking occasionally when they ran across something relevant.
“Somehow, I don't think what we'll find is actually going to help up,” Hermione said.
“Here’s something ... there was a case in 1722 ... but the Hippogriff was convicted – urgh, look what they did to it, that’s disgusting –“
“Yeah, that doesn't help you out,” Cedric said.
“This might help, look – a Manticore savaged someone in 1296, and they let the Manticore off –“
“I have a feeling that only happened because no one wanted to go near it,” Luna said.
“oh – no, that was only because everyone was too scared to go near it ...”
Meanwhile, in the rest of the castle, the usual magnificent Christmas decorations had been put up, despite the fact that hardly any of the students remained to enjoy them.
“I wonder exactly how many students were left,” Cedric said.
Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armour and the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars. A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors, and by Christmas Eve, it had grown so strong that even Scabbers poked his nose out of the shelter of Ron’s pocket to sniff hopefully at the air.
“Why is he carrying him everywhere with him?” Hermione asked, shaking her head.
On Christmas morning, Harry was woken by Ron throwing his pillow at him.*
“How nice,” Harry said.
“Oy! Presents!”
Harry reached for his glasses and put them on, squinting through the semi-darkness to the foot of his bed, where a small heap of parcels had appeared. Ron was already ripping the paper off his own presents.
“Another jumper from Mum ... maroon again ... see if you’ve got one.”
“You probably do, if you've gotten one the previous years,” Luna said.
Harry had. Mrs. Weasley had sent him a scarlet jumper with the Gryffindor lion knitted on the front, also a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake and a box of nut brittle.
“Nice,” Cedric said.
As he moved all these things aside, he saw a long, thin package lying underneath.
"I wonder what that is," Harry said.
“What’s that?” said Ron, looking over, a freshly unwrapped pair of maroon socks in his hand.
“Dunno ...”
Harry ripped the parcel open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolled out onto his bedspread.
“Do you think...” Harry started to asked.
“That it's the Firebolt?” Cedric finished. He nodded his head after Harry had confirmed that was what he was thinking.
“So you get it as a Christmas gift. I wonder who got it for you,” Hermione said.
“Whoever they are, they have to be rich,” Luna said.
Ron dropped his socks and jumped off his bed for a closer look.
“I don’t believe it,” he said hoarsely.
It was a Firebolt, identical to the dream broom Harry had gone to see every day in Diagon Alley. Its handle glittered as he picked it up. He could feel it vibrating, and let go; it hung in mid-air, unsupported, at exactly the right height for him to mount it. His eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.
“Who sent it to you?” said Ron in a hushed voice.
“That's what we want to know,” Hermione said.
“Look and see if there’s a card,” said Harry.
Ron ripped apart the Firebolt’s wrappings.
“Nothing! Blimey, who’d spend that much on you?”
“Who indeed,” Cedric said. Luna thought for a moment.
“Well, it's either a teacher or someone who knows you and is rich,” Luna said.
“I think we can cross off any of the teachers,” Harry said. “I don't think any of them would show this magnitude of favouritism.”
“Well,” said Harry, feeling stunned, “I’m betting it wasn’t the Dursleys.”
“That's a given,” Hermione said.
“I bet it was Dumbledore,” said Ron, now walking round and round the Firebolt, taking in every glorious inch. “He sent you the Invisibility Cloak anonymously ...”
“The invisibility cloak was Harry's father's, though,” Hermione said. “He was technically returning it to the family it belonged to, not getting Harry something new and most likely expensive.”
“That was my dad’s, though,” said Harry. “Dumbledore was just passing it on to me. He wouldn’t spend hundreds of Galleons on me. He can’t go giving students stuff like this –“
“That’s why he wouldn’t say it was from him!” said Ron.
“That's true,” Harry said. “Since it was given anonymously, it's easy to see why Ron would assume that.”
“In case some git like Malfoy said it was favouritism. Hey, Harry –“ Ron gave a great whoop of laughter, “Malfoy! Wait ’til he sees you on this! He’ll be sick as a pig! This is an international-standard broom, this is!”
“I can’t believe this,” Harry muttered, running a hand along the Firebolt, while Ron sank onto Harry’s bed, laughing his head off at the thought of Malfoy. “Who –?”
“I know,” said Ron, controlling himself. “I know who it could’ve been – Lupin!”
“Now, I'm positive that it's not him,” Hermione said.
“Yeah, if he had that much gold, he'd be able to buy himself some new robes,” Harry said.
“What?” said Harry, now starting to laugh himself. “Lupin? Listen, if he had this much gold, he’d be able to buy himself some new robes.”
“Yeah, but he likes you,” said Ron.
“Doesn't mean that he's going to spend that much money on me,” Harry said.
“And he was away when your Nimbus got smashed, and he might’ve heard about it and decided to visit Diagon Alley and get this for you –“
“What d’you mean, he was away?” said Harry. “He was ill when I was playing in that match.”
“Well, he wasn’t in the hospital wing,” said Ron.
“So, of course, that automatically means that he wasn't sick at all,” Cedric said, shaking his head.
“I was there, cleaning out the bedpans on that detention from Snape, remember?”
Harry frowned at Ron.
“I can’t see Lupin affording something like this.”
“What’re you two laughing about?”
“Entering the boys dormitory again, are we?” Cedric teased. Hermione blushed at that.
Hermione had just come in, wearing her dressing-gown and carrying Crookshanks,
"Why did you bring Crookshanks with you?" Harry said. "You know how much Ron hates him, and that it's not a good idea to bring him around him."
"I don't think I was actually planning on bringing him with, and got tired of waiting for you two," Hermione said.
who was looking very grumpy, with a string of tinsel tied around his neck.
“I don't think Crookshanks like having to were tinsel around his neck,” Harry said.
“I would imagine that, and the fact that he was probably still sleeping before she decided to dress him up and therefore she woke up up,” Luna said.
“Don’t bring him in here!” said Ron, hurriedly snatching Scabbers from the depths of his bed and stowing him in his pyjama pocket.
“I don't think that Hermione's going to listen,” Cedric said.
But Hermione wasn’t listening. She dropped Crookshanks onto Seamus’s empty bed and stared, open-mouthed, at the Firebolt.
“Oh, Harry! Who sent you that?”
“No idea,” said Harry. “There wasn’t a card or anything with it.”
To his great surprise, Hermione did not appear either excited or intrigued by this news. On the contrary, her face fell, and she bit her lip.
“You have an idea,” Harry said.
“It seems I do,” Hermione said, thinking about it. Who could it be that she thought bought the broom?
“What’s the matter with you?” said Ron.
“I don’t know,” said Hermione slowly, “but it’s a bit odd, isn’t it? I mean, this is supposed to be quite a good broom, isn’t it?”
“I don't think Ron is going to be happy to hear that it's just supposed to be quite a good broom,” Cedric said.
Ron sighed exasperatedly.
“It’s the best broom there is, Hermione,” he said.
“So it must’ve been really expensive ...”
“Probably cost more than all the Slytherins’ brooms put together,” said Ron happily.
“Well ... who’d send Harry something as expensive as that, and not even tell him they’d sent it?” said Hermione.
“Which crosses off almost everyone we can think of...” Hermione said, trailing off as a look dawned on her face. “But is it possible? Could he actually do it?” she muttered, much to the confusion of the boys, as Luna, who had also been thinking about it, realized who she was thinking of.
“Yes, it is possible,” Luna said, catching Hermione's attention.
“He didn't have to enter the store. He would simply have to fill out a broomstick request form from one of the magazines, put Harry's name on the form, but his own vault on it as well,” Luna said. “Since it would most likely be in his handwriting, as well as with some kind of form of saying that he is who he is, and so long as he hasn't done anything to anger the goblins, they will let the requests for money go through.”
“So he could easily get Harry a broom?” Hermione said.
“Yes,” Luna answered.
“Who could easily get me a broom?” Harry asked.
“Black could,” Hermione said. “He could do it, and he wouldn't sign anything mentioning that he did because, as far as he knows – and, concerning your book self, is right about – you think he's a murdering, Riddle following psychopath. And, as Luna just said, he wouldn't have to go into a store to buy it, he'd simply have to use a magazine, such as the one mentioned in the previous chapter.”
“That is true,” Cedric said. “Which Broomstick does have an order form in it to buy whatever broom you want.”
“So you think Black got me a broom. Why? Does he know that I need one, or is he just being nice?” Harry asked.
“Not sure which it is,” Hermione said. “However, if my book self thinks this, then I doubt I'll be thinking that it's anything nice and given out of the goodness of his heart. After all, as far as my book self knows, Black wants you dead.”
“Who cares?” said Ron, impatiently. “Listen, Harry, can I have a go on it? Can I?”
“I don’t think anyone should ride that broom just yet!” said Hermione shrilly.
“Yeah, that definitely says that you think it's Black,” Harry said.
Harry and Ron looked at her.
“What d’you think Harry’s going to do with it – sweep the floor?” said Ron.
“If it was a muggle broom, yes,” Hermione said.
But before Hermione could answer, Crookshanks sprang from Seamus’s bed, right at Ron’s chest.
“I guess we should have realized that, sooner or later, Crookshanks would attack Ron for Scabbers,” Hermione said.
“GET – HIM – OUT – OF – HERE!” Ron bellowed, as Crookshanks’s claws ripped his pyjamas and Scabbers attempted a wild escape over his shoulder. Ron seized Scabbers by the tail and aimed a misjudged kick at Crookshanks which hit the trunk at the end of Harry’s bed, knocking it over and causing Ron to hop on the spot, howling with pain.
“That's why he shouldn't be kicking out at my cat,” Hermione said, sounding a bit vindictive. “He'll get hurt if he does it, whether or not he actually manages to to hit him or otherwise.”
Crookshanks’s fur suddenly stood on end. A shrill, tinny whistling was filling the room. The Pocket Sneakoscope had become dislodged from Uncle Vernon’s old socks and was whirling and gleaming on the floor.
“Why is it going off?” Hermione asked.
“It could be because it senses that your not supposed to be there,” Harry said.
“But it sounds like it's been going off for a while,” Luna said.
“That is true,” Harry said.
“I think this actually confirms our theory from a few chapters back,” Cedric said. “The one about Scabbers not being what he seems.”
“It does, if the Sneakoscope has been going off for a while,” Hermione said. "After all, it has been a few minutes since I entered the room. It could have started going off once I did that."
“I forgot about that!” Harry said,
“It's not much of a present if you forget about it,” Cedric said. “Particularly as it can be a useful think to have.”
bending down and picking up the Sneakoscope. “I never wear those socks if I can help it ...”
The Sneakoscope whirled and whistled in his palm. Crookshanks was hissing and spitting at it.
“Yeah, I would imagine that it would freak the cat out,” Cedric said.
“You’d better take that cat out of here, Hermione,” said Ron furiously;
“Does he not know that it doesn't work on animals?" Harry asked.
"No, it doesn't seem so," Cedric said. "Though he could have another reason for wanting the cat out of the room."
he was sitting on Harry’s bed nursing his toe. “Can’t you shut that thing up?” he added to Harry, as Hermione strode out of the room, Crookshanks’s yellow eyes still fixed maliciously on Ron.
“You really shouldn't, at least, until you know what set it off,” Luna said.
“Well, I don't think it's me or Crookshanks, since we've left the room,” Hermione said, “and it seems like it's still going off.”
Harry stuffed the Sneakoscope back inside the socks and threw it back into his trunk. All that could be heard now was Ron’s stifled moans of pain and rage. Scabbers was huddled in Ron’s hands. It had been a while since Harry had seen him out of Ron’s pocket, and he was unpleasantly surprised to see that Scabbers, once so fat, was now very skinny; patches of fur seemed to have fallen out, too.
“He's under a lot of stress,” Luna said. “And not all of it can be from Crookshanks, though I'm sure that he doesn't help.”
“He’s not looking too good, is he?” Harry said.
“It’s stress!” said Ron. “He’d be fine if that stupid great furball left him alone!”
But Harry, remembering what the woman at the Magical Menagerie had said about rats only living three years, couldn’t help feeling that unless Scabbers had powers he had never revealed, he was reaching the end of his life. And despite Ron’s frequent complaints that Scabbers was both boring and useless, he was sure Ron would be very miserable if Scabbers died.
“Very true,” Luna said.
Christmas spirit was definitely thin on the ground in the Gryffindor common room that morning. Hermione had shut Crookshanks in her dormitory, but was furious with Ron for trying to kick him; Ron was still fuming about Crookshanks’s fresh attempt to eat Scabbers.
“That's going to be fun to deal with,” Harry said sarcasticaly.
Harry gave up trying to make them talk to each other, and devoted himself to examining the Firebolt, which he had brought down to the common room with him. For some reason this seemed to annoy Hermione as well; she didn’t say anything, but she kept looking darkly at the broom as though it, too, had been criticising her cat.
“How nice,” Cedric said, laughing a bit at that.
“I don't know a Firebolt could criticise you cat,” Harry said.
At lunchtime they went down to the Great Hall, to find that the house tables had been moved against the walls again, and that a single table, set for twelve, stood in the middle of the room. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a very old and rather mouldy-looking tail coat. There were only three other students: two extremely nervous-looking first-years and a sullen-faced Slytherin fifth-year.
“Six students left,” Cedric said. “That's the smallest number I've ever heard of.”
“I suppose that the fact that Black is there has caused people to want to get out of there,” Hermione said. “And the only reason why us three and the other three students are there is because they can't leave for some reason.”
“Merry Christmas!” said Dumbledore, as Harry, Ron and Hermione approached the table. “As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the house tables ... sit down, sit down!”
“That is true, no point in pulling out the tables for so small of a group,” Harry said.
Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down side by side at the end of the table.
“Crackers!” said Dumbledore enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver one to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witch’s hat topped with a stuffed vulture.
The group, remembering Neville's Boggart, laughed at that.
“I wonder how happy Snape is going to be getting that hat,” Hermione said, still laughing.
Harry, remembering the Boggart, caught Ron’s eye and they both grinned; Snape’s mouth thinned and he pushed the hat towards Dumbledore, who swapped it for his wizard’s hat at once.
“Tuck in!” he advised the table, beaming around.
As Harry was helping himself to roast potatoes, the doors of the Great Hall opened again.
“I wonder who it is,” Harry said.
It was Professor Trelawney,
“Oh, not her,” Hermione groaned.
gliding towards them as though on wheels. She had put on a green sequined dress in honour of the occasion, making her look more than ever like a glittering, oversize dragonfly.
There were some snorts at that.
“Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!” said Dumbledore, standing up.
“I have been crystal-gazing, Headmaster,” said Professor Trelawney, in her mistiest, most faraway voice, “and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you.”
“I wonder if she just did it because it's a small group,” Hermione said.
“Probably because it's a small group,” Harry said.
“Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness ...”
“Certainly, certainly,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. “Let me draw you up a chair –“
And he did indeed draw a chair in mid-air with his wand, which revolved for a few seconds before falling with a thud between Professors Snape and McGonagall.
“I'm sure that Professor McGonagall is going to love that,” Hermione said.
Professor Trelawney, however, did not sit down; her enormous eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream.
“I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!”
“We’ll risk it, Sybill,” said Professor McGonagall impatiently. “Do sit down, the turkey’s getting stone cold.”
“You can definitely tell that Professor McGonagall so likes Trelawney,” Hermione said sarcastically.
Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen.
“Tripe, Sybill?”
There were some snorts at that.
Professor Trelawney ignored her. Eyes open again, she looked around once more and said, “But where is dear Professor Lupin?”
“He's either ill, or went to visit someone,” Cedric said. “With the low amount of students there, then I suspect that several of the teachers were allowed to go visit someone else if they wanted to.”
“I’m afraid the poor fellow is ill again,” said Dumbledore, indicating that everybody should start serving themselves. “Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day.”
“Very true,” Hermione said.
“But surely you already knew that, Sybill?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyebrows raised.
Professor Trelawney gave Professor McGonagall a very cold look.
“Probably not, though she'll lie about it,” Harry said.
“Certainly I knew, Minerva,” she said quietly. “But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous.”
“Liar,” Hermione said, thinking about the first class, and how Trelawney could stand the idea of someone thinking she was wrong.
“That explains a great deal,” said Professor McGonagall tartly.
"I wonder if she heard about the way that Trelawney acted concerning you," Harry said, looking at Hermione.
"Yeah, I can see her not being happy at Trelawney and disliking her more because of that," Cedric said.
"You do seem to be a favourite of hers," Luna said.
Professor Trelawney’s voice suddenly became a good deal less misty.
“If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short.”
“Hm, he's doing a job in which no one has been able to last a year at. Of course he's aware that he might not be there the coming year,” Harry said.
“He positively fled when I offered to crystal-gaze for him –“
“I'd do the same thing,” Harry said.
“Imagine that,” said Professor McGonagall drily.
“I doubt,” said Dumbledore, in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney’s conversation, “that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you’ve made the Potion for him again?”
“So it is at the Headmaster's insistence that Snape make that potion for Lupin,” Harry said.
“Yes, Headmaster,” said Snape.
“Good,” said Dumbledore. “Then he should be up and about in no time ... Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They’re excellent.”
The first-year boy went furiously red on being addressed directly by Dumbledore, and took the platter of sausages with trembling hands.
Professor Trelawney behaved almost normally until the very end of Christmas dinner, two hours later. Full to bursting with Christmas dinner and still wearing their cracker hats, Harry and Ron got up first from the table and she shrieked loudly.
“My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?”
“They did it at the same time, which means that your little first to rise will be the first to die is kind of cancelled out, since that only works when one person does it,” Luna said. “And yes, what Trelawney is true, to a point.”
“Dunno,” said Ron, looking uneasily at Harry.
“I doubt it will make much difference,” said Professor McGonagall coldly, “unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall.”
“It seems Trelawney is bringing out McGonagall's humorous side,” Cedric said, as they all laughed at that.
Even Ron laughed. Professor Trelawney looked highly affronted.
“Coming?” Harry said to Hermione.
“No,” Hermione muttered. “I want a quick word with Professor McGonagall.”
The other three looked at her, trying to figure out why her book self would want to talk to Professor McGonagall. Hermione, on the other hand, had a feeling that she knew the reason why already, and frowned at the rather underhanded way she was going about it, not even bothering to try and tell Harry what she was going to do.
“Probably trying to see if she can take any more classes,” yawned Ron as they made their way into the Entrance Hall, which was completely devoid of mad axe-men.
“Of course it is,” Hermione said.
When they reached the portrait hole they found Sir Cadogan enjoying a Christmas party with a couple of monks, several previous Headmasters of Hogwarts and his fat pony. He pushed up his visor and toasted them with a flagon of mead.
“Merry – hic – Christmas! Password?”
“Scurvy cur,” said Ron.
“And the same to you, sir!” roared Sir Cadogan, as the painting swung forward to admit them.
Hermione rolled her eyes at the actions of the portrait.
Harry went straight up to the dormitory, collected his Firebolt and the Broomstick Servicing Kit Hermione had given him for his birthday, brought them downstairs and tried to find something to do to the Firebolt;
“It's a new broom; you're not going to find that anything needs to be done to it,” Cedric said.
however, there were no bent twigs to clip, and the handle was so shiny already it seemed pointless to polish it. He and Ron simply sat admiring it from every angle, until the portrait hole opened, and Hermione came in, accompanied by Professor McGonagall.
“You didn't,” Harry said, looking a bit mad.
“I did,” Hermione said, looking a bit ashamed. “Or, at least, my book self did.”
“I suppose it is a good think to do,” Luna said, stopping any chance for Harry to yell at Hermione. “If you're book self believes it to be Black, and if he really was after Harry, the first time Harry rode that broom could have resulted in an accident for him. However, I do not think you should have gone to Professor McGonagall without Harry being warned about it, even if he didn't agree with it.”
“That is true,” Cedric said. “After all, your life is much more important than the broom, even if it is a really good broom.”
The support that Hermione was getting for part of her actions – for it was clear that, while only Luna voiced it, Cedric did not agree with her going behind Harry's back about it – calmed Harry down, knowing that they were right. In truth, it was the fact that she went behind his back that had him angry, though he had the feeling that his book self would probably be angry for another reason.
“I wish you had at least told me what you were going to do, and why,” Harry said.
“I get the feeling that you would try and talk me out of it,” Hermione said. “But you are right, I shouldn't have gone behind your back. I should have told you what I was going to do, even if you didn't like it.”
“I wonder how your friendship is going to take this,” Luna said.
“It's probably not going to be good, especially since Ron's probably going to help the fuel, being he'll probably think that what they'll do to see if it's been jinxed is something only a crazy person would do,” Cedric said. “I just hope that you, Harry, are only mad about her going behind your back, not because she told the Professor about the broom – which, incidentally would have been brought to Professor McGonagall's attention at some point, and would probably still be taken away because you'd have to tell her where you got it if you just showed up with it – otherwise you'd basically be saying that broom is more important than being her friend.”
Harry frowned, hoping that his book self didn't see it like that. A broom could be replaced, but a friend, if truly lost, didn't have that ability.
Though Professor McGonagall was Head of Gryffindor house, Harry had only seen her in the common room once before, and that had been to make a very grave announcement. He and Ron stared at her, both holding the Firebolt. Hermione walked around them, sat down, picked up the nearest book and hid her face behind it.
The Hermione in the room reading looked as if she'd love to repeat the action, seeing that Harry was still frowning, and not realizing that it wasn't because of her actions, but because of what Cedric had said before going back to the book, as she hadn't notice the look forming then, for she had been looking elsewhere at the time.
“So that’s it, is it?” said Professor McGonagall beadily, walking over to the fireside and staring at the Firebolt. “Miss Granger has just informed me that you have been sent a broomstick, Potter.”
Harry and Ron looked around at Hermione. They could see her forehead reddening over the top of her book, which was upside-down.
“Not much of a cover if it's not even right side up,” Luan said.
“May I?” said Professor McGonagall, but she didn’t wait for an answer before pulling the Firebolt out of their hands. She examined it carefully from handle to twig-ends. “Hmm. And there was no note at all, Potter? No card? No message of any kind?”
“No,” said Harry blankly.
“I don't think I realized exactly what is going to happen quite yet,” Harry said.
“No, it doesn't seem like you do, yet,” Hermione said.
“I see ...” said Professor McGonagall. “Well, I’m afraid I will have to take this, Potter.”
“And there's the bad news for my book self,” Harry said.
“W-what?” said Harry, scrambling to his feet. “Why?”
“It will need to be checked for jinxes,” said Professor McGonagall. “Of course, I’m no expert, but I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip it down –“
“And there's the news that going to make Ron think Professor McGonagall is insane,” Cedric said.
“Strip it down?” repeated Ron, as though Professor McGonagall was mad.
“It shouldn’t take more than a few weeks,” said Professor McGonagall. “You will have it back if we are sure it is jinx-free.”
“Considering who you are, it might take more than a few weeks,” Luna said.
“There’s nothing wrong with it!” said Harry,
“I really shouldn't say that, since I actually have no idea if that's true or not,” Harry said. “In fact, the only reason why I'm saying it is that I don't want to lose the broom.”
his voice shaking slightly. “Honestly, Professor –“
“You can’t know that, Potter,” said Professor McGonagall, quite kindly, “not until you’ve flown it, at any rate, and I’m afraid that is out of the question until we are certain that it has not been tampered with. I shall keep you informed.”
Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole, which closed behind her. Harry stood staring after her, the tin of High-Finish Polish still clutched in his hands. Ron, however, rounded on Hermione.
“You'd think he was the one given the broom since he's the one who rounds on you, instead of me,” Harry said. “If one of us had the right to do it, it's me, not him. Then again, considering that he has a problem of answering for me a lot, then it makes sense that he would round on you as if he has the right to.”
“What did you go running to McGonagall for?”
“Because it was the right thing to do, and she knew that neither of you would do it,” Luna said.
Hermione threw her book aside. She was still pink in the face, but stood up and faced Ron defiantly.
“So far, this year isn't a good year for you two, and just shows that neither of you would actually be friends without me,” Harry said.
“Because I thought – and Professor McGonagall agrees with me – that that broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!”
“That's the end of the chapter,” Cedric said, handing the book to Luna.