Harry knew that Hermione had meant well, but that didn’t stop him being angry with her. He had been the owner of the best broom in the world for a few short hours, and now, because of her interference, he didn’t know whether he would ever see it again.
“You most likely will. I mean, even if there is a jinx on it, the Professors can most likely remove it. And it should be fine, unless Snape gets to it,” Cedric said.
“I don't think that Professor McGonagall will let that happen,” Harry said. “She's going to make sure that there's nothing wrong with the broom, not allow someone to make sure that there is something wrong with it.”
He was positive that there was nothing wrong with the Firebolt now, but what sort of state would it be in once it had been subjected to all sorts of anti-jinx tests?
Ron was furious with Hermione, too. As far as he was concerned, the stripping-down of a brand-new Firebolt was nothing less than criminal damage.
“I wonder what he would think if I was killed riding that broom because of that thinking, though,” Harry said.
Hermione, who remained convinced that she had acted for the best, started avoiding the common room.
“And I get the feeling that neither boys bothered to try and have you back in the common room,” Cedric said, shaking his head.
Harry and Ron supposed she had taken refuge in the library, and didn’t try and persuade her to come back.
“I wonder how much of that is because Ron refused to forgive Hermione and keep you convinced that you shouldn't do so,” Luna said. “I mean, the boy is crazy about Quidditch, and he's crazy about that broom as well. I wouldn't be surprised if he decided that you have to be the same way, Harry.”
All in all, they were glad when the rest of the school returned shortly after New Year, and Gryffindor Tower became crowded and noisy again.
Wood sought Harry out on the night before term started.
“He probably wants to know if you've got a broom yet,” Hermione said, looking down as she remembered that she was the only reason why he couldn't proclaim that he did and keep Wood from bugging him.
“Had a good Christmas?” he said, and then, without waiting for an answer,
“Why'd asked, then?” Harry said rhetorically.
he sat down, lowered his voice and said, “I’ve been doing some thinking over Christmas, Harry. After the last match, you know. If the Dementors come to the next one ... I mean ... we can’t afford you to – well –“
“Is he saying that he's going to replace Harry if Harry doesn't do something about the Dementors,” Cedric said.
Wood broke off, looking awkward.
“I’m working on it,” said Harry quickly.
“Yeah, Professor Lupin did promise me some training to ward them off,” Harry said.
“Professor Lupin said he’d train me to ward the Dementors off. We should be starting this week; he said he’d have time after Christmas.”
“Ah,” said Wood, his expression clearing.
“That'll make him happy,” Cedric said.
“Well, in that case – I really didn’t want to lose you as Seeker, Harry. And have you ordered a new broom yet?”
“He didn't need to,” Luna said. “Someone got one for him.”
“No,” said Harry.
“What! You’d better get a move on, you know – you can’t ride that Shooting Star against Ravenclaw!”
“Knowing you, you'd probably still win even if you did, though,” Cedric said. “You are pretty good, after all.”
“I'd probably chose a different broom, though, maybe one that flies a little better,” Harry said.
“He got a Firebolt for Christmas,” said Ron.
“Great. Ron should really keep his mouth shut, since I technically don't have it right now, and, possibly, as far as my book self knows, there's a possibility that I won't have it back,” Harry said.
“A Firebolt? No! Seriously? A – a real Firebolt?”
“Don’t get excited, Oliver,” said Harry gloomily. “I haven’t got it any more. It was confiscated.” And he explained all about how the Firebolt was now being checked for jinxes.
“Somehow I get the feeling that, like Ron, he's going to be horrified by the fact that it's going to be stripped down when you tell him,” Hermione said.
“He will be,” Cedric said.
“Jinxed? How could it be jinxed?”
“Sirius Black,” Harry said wearily. “He’s supposed to be after me. So McGonagall reckons he might have sent it.”
Waving aside the information that a famous murderer was after his Seeker,
“Of course. It doesn't have to do with Quidditch, and therefore it isn't important,” Cedric said.
Wood said, “But Black couldn’t have bought a Firebolt! He’s on the run! The whole country’s on the lookout for him! How could he just walk into Quality Quidditch Supplies and buy a broomstick?”
“Again, you don't have to walk into the store to buy a broom, you can simply use an order form,” Luna said.
“I know,” said Harry, “but McGonagall still wants to strip it down –“
Wood went pale.
“And there it is,” Hermione said.
“I’ll go and talk to her, Harry,” he promised. “I’ll make her see reason ...”
“There's just one little problem with Wood's theory. See, unlike him, Professor McGonagall is not so big of a fan that the safety of the student is completely gone,” Cedric said.
“a Firebolt ... a real Firebolt, on our team ... she wants Gryffindor to win as much as we do ... I’ll make her see sense ... a Firebolt ...”
“It's not going to work. She cares about her students more than the game,” Hermione said.
Lessons started again next day. The last thing anyone felt like doing was spending two hours in the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamanders for their enjoyment,
“Oh, thank god,” Harry said.
“Yeah, that's good that he makes sure that we don't freeze while in his class,” Hermione said.
and they spent an unusually good lesson collecting dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing, while the flame-loving lizards scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs. The first Divination lesson of the new term was much less fun; Professor Trelawney was now teaching them palmistry, and she lost no time in informing Harry that he had the shortest life-lines she had ever seen.
“Of course, she has to keep up with her 'predictions' of his death,” Hermione said snidely.
It was Defence Against the Dark Arts that Harry was keen to get to;
“I probably want to remind Professor Lupin,” Harry said.
after his conversation with Wood, he wanted to get started on his Anti-Dementor lessons as soon as possible.
“I want that too,” Harry said.
“Ah yes,” said Lupin, when Harry reminded him of his promise at the end of class.
“He forgot?” Harry said.
“You know, I'm kind of surprised that there aren't a bunch of people asking him for lessons like that,” Hermione said. “I mean, I doubt your the only one who has a bad reaction and therefore attracts them.”
“I'm probably the only one who has that horrible of a reaction, and can you see others wanting to do more work,” Harry asked. She shook her head after thinking about it.
“And remember, he did say that the more there are, the harder it is to drive them off, which probably means that the spell isn't the easiest one to do,” Harry said.
“Let me see ... how about eight o’clock on Thursday evening? The History of Magic classroom should be large enough ... I’ll have to think carefully about how we’re going to do this ... we can’t bring a real Dementor into the castle to practise on ...”
“While using a real one would be effective, I don't think that Professor Dumbledore will allow one in the castle,” Hermione said.
“Hopefully he can find a Boggart,” Cedric said. “Since he knows that's what your afraid of, then it can work as a substitute for what you need.”
“Still looks ill, doesn’t he?” said Ron, as they walked down the corridor, heading to dinner. “What d’you reckon’s the matter with him?”
“It's probably because of the fact that he's a werewolf,” Luna said. “It probably isn't very heath helpful if he has to be forcefully changed into a wolf every full moon. And I doubt the Lycanthropy virus is kind to the body anyway.”
There was a loud and impatient ‘tuh’ from behind them.
'It's probably me,” Hermione said.
“You're probably wondering how it is that they haven't figured out what's wrong with him, particularly since they have all the clues they need, and, also, all they'd really have to do is look at a calendar and see the fact that he's sick around the full moon,” Luna said.
It was Hermione, who had been sitting at the feet of a suit of armour, repacking her bag, which was so full of books it wouldn’t close.
“And what are you tutting at us for?” said Ron irritably.
“Because, once you bother getting the information, it's easy to see what's wrong with him,” Harry said.
“Nothing,” said Hermione in a lofty voice, heaving her bag back over her shoulder.
“Your hiding his secret for him,” Cedric said.
“Seems so. I probably reason that the Headmaster already knows, and, since I don't have any prejudice towards them,” Hermione said, pointedly looking at Cedric and Luna, having noticed that they had seemed a bit wary when it first came up that Professor Lupin might be a werewolf, and reasoning that it was because of of some unfair stigma towards them, “I most likely don't see a problem about it.”
The three noticed how she had pointedly looked at Cedric and Luna, but only Harry needed to think to actually figure out why she would do that, as the other two knew that they'd been kind of wary when they reasoned out that Professor Lupin was most likely a werewolf.
“Yes, you were,” said Ron. “I said I wonder what’s wrong with Lupin, and you –“
“Well, isn’t it obvious?’”said Hermione, with a look of maddening superiority.
“It is,” Harry said.
“Though I probably shouldn't act like I'm superior because I know and your book self doesn't,” Hermione said.
“I think you're acting like that mostly towards Ron, because, in your mind, he should have some idea, at the very least,” Cedric said.
“But it doesn't mention anyone else, pure-blood or half-blood, knowing, or even having an idea about it,” Hermione said.
“That you know of,” Cedric said. “There could be some others who have suspicions about it, just, like you, don't see it as being that big of a problem because, like your book self, they reason that the Headmaster already knows, along with the fact that he's a very nice person, therefore having a prejudice against him just doesn't work out all that well.”
“If you don’t want to tell us, don’t,” snapped Ron.
“I probably made a promise to myself that I wouldn't tell anyone, since I know how the gossip chain works,” Hermione said.
“A rather noble idea,” Cedric said. “The less people know, the better the secret can be kept.”
“Fine,” said Hermione haughtily, and she marched off.
“She doesn’t know,” said Ron, staring resentfully after Hermione. “She’s just trying to get us to talk to her again.”
“They're not trying to talk to you,” Cedric said, sounding appalled.
“Seems that way,” Hermione said, sounding a bit sad at that. It was obvious to her that Ron and Harry's book self put a broom over any friendship with her. Harry looked upset, having figured out the same thing that Hermione did, though a part of him wondered if Ron didn't have anything to do with it, since he seemed to be the one with the most resentment towards Hermione – in fact, Harry would say that Ron was the only one truly resentful towards her by this point, since it didn't seem to hint at him himself being that way.
At eight o’clock on Thursday evening, Harry left Gryffindor Tower for the History of Magic classroom. It was dark and empty when he arrived, but he lit the lamps with his wand and had waited only five minutes when Professor Lupin turned up, carrying a large packing case, which he heaved onto Professor Binns’ desk.
“Must be the Boggart you need,” Hermione said.
“Most likely,” Harry agreed.
“What’s that?” said Harry.
“Another Boggart,” said Lupin, stripping off his cloak. “I’ve been combing the castle ever since Tuesday,”
“So he didn't have one handy already. Boy is he lucky that he managed to find that one,” Cedric said.
“and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch’s filing cabinet. It’s the nearest we’ll get to a real Dementor.”
“Which is only because of the fact that you're afraid of Dementors, otherwise, you'd be screwed,” Luna said.
“The Boggart will turn into a Dementor when he sees you, so we’ll be able to practise on him. I can store him in my office when we’re not using him; there’s a cupboard under my desk he’ll like.”
“I get the feeling that he suspects a lot of use from the Boggart for you,” Hermione said.
“It does make sense,” Luna said. “If the spell is as difficult as Harry suspect it is, then he'll probably be working on it for a while.”
“OK,” said Harry, trying to sound as though he wasn’t apprehensive at all
“I have the feeling that I don't succeed at that,” Harry said.
and merely glad that Lupin had found such a good substitute for a real Dementor.
“It is a good one,” Cedric said.
“So ...” Professor Lupin had taken out his own wand, and indicated that Harry should do the same. “The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, Harry – well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level.”
“So it is a N.E.W.T. level spell?” Luna asked.
“Don't know. Possibly,” Cedric said.
“N.E.W.T.?” Harry asked.
“Nastily Exhausting Wizard Tests,” Cedric said. “They'll the highest exams at Hogwarts. You take them in your seventh year, and the scores you get on them have quite a bit to do with determining what you qualify once you're finished with school. Of course, in order to get into the N.E.W.T.s classes you'll need for certain jobs, you also have to get O.W.L.s in those subjects as well.”
“It is called the Patronus Charm.”
“Which is the chapter title,” Harry said.
“How does it work?” said Harry nervously.
“Well, when it works correctly, it conjures up a Patronus,” said Lupin, “which is a kind of Anti-Dementor – a guardian which acts as a shield between you and the Dementor.”
The four had sudden visions of themselves crouching behind a figure that, though only Cedric knew for a fact, was about Hagrid's size, who was also holding a large club that was swinging back and forth, hitting Dementors with each swing.
Harry had a sudden vision of himself crouching behind a Hagrid-sized figure holding a large club.
The four laugh, realizing that they'd all thought the same thing as the book version of Harry, though they had to explain it to each other when they confused the others by laughing in the first place.
Professor Lupin continued, “The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon – hope, happiness, the desire to survive –“
“So, basically, the charm protects your good feelings by giving a Dementor something else to feed on,” Hermione said.
“but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can’t hurt it.”
“And without hurting it like a Dementor does to a human,” Harry said.
“But I must warn you, Harry, that the Charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it.”
“Which makes it sound as if it's a Master level charm,” Cedric said.
“What does a Patronus look like?” said Harry curiously.
“Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it.”
“How is it unique?” Hermione said. “I mean, how is the shape chosen.”
“And how do you conjure it?”
“With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory.”
“Oh no,” Hermione said, looking at Harry. “You don't really have many happy memories.”
“Well, I know I can't use anything that happened at the Dursleys,” Harry said, thinking.
Harry cast about for a happy memory. Certainly, nothing that had happened to him at the Dursleys’ was going to do. Finally, he settled on the moment when he had first ridden a broomstick.
“You were kind of happy then, but I'm not sure if it's going to be a strong enough memory,” Luna said.
“Right,” he said, trying to recall as exactly as possible the wonderful, soaring sensation in his stomach.
“The incantation is this –“ Lupin cleared his throat, “expecto patronum!”
“Expecto patronum,” Harry repeated under his breath, “expecto patronum.”
“Don't forget to concentrate on your memory,” Hermione said.
“Concentrating hard on your happy memory?”
“Oh – yeah –“ said Harry, quickly forcing his thoughts back to that first broom-ride. “Expecto patrono – no, patronum – sorry – expecto patronum, expecto patronum –“
Something whooshed suddenly out of the end of his wand; it looked like a wisp of silvery gas.
“You managed to get something. Congradulations,” Cedric said.
“But remember, this is only without any Dementor around,” Hermione said. “So don't forget to adjust to that.”
“Did you see that?” said Harry excitedly. “Something happened!”
“Very good,” said Lupin, smiling. “Right then – ready to try it on a Dementor?”
“I don't think so, but I have the feeling that I'm still going to do so anyway,” Harry said.
“Yes,” Harry said, gripping his wand very tightly, and moving into the middle of the deserted classroom. He tried to keep his mind on flying, but something else kept intruding ... any second now, he might hear his mother again ... but he shouldn’t think that, or he would hear her again, and he didn’t want to ... or did he?
“No, you shouldn't. It's horrible to torment yourself that way,” Luna said.
Lupin grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled.
A Dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned towards Harry, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out. The Dementor stepped from the box and started to sweep silently towards Harry, drawing a deep, rattling breath. A wave of piercing cold broke over him –
“Come on, Harry,” Hermione said.
“Expecto patronum!” Harry yelled. “Expecto patronum! Expecto –“
But the classroom and the Dementor were dissolving ...
“Yeah, definitely wasn't ready,” Harry said.
Harry was falling again through thick white fog, and his mother’s voice was louder than ever, echoing inside his head – “Not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I’ll do anything –“
“Stand aside – stand aside, girl –“
“Harry!”
“Professor Lupin must be trying to get your attention,” Hermione said.
Harry jerked back to life. He was lying flat on his back on the floor. The classroom lamps were alight again. He didn’t have to ask what had happened.
“Yeah, it's kind of obvious what happened,” Harry said. “Though, I do think I need to readjust what I actually fear. It's not the Dementors themselves that I fear, but the effect they have on me.”
“True,” Hermione said. “Even if the Dementors didn't look like they do, I'd still probably fear them, simply because of the effect they have on me.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, sitting up and feeling cold sweat trickling down behind his glasses.
“Are you all right?” said Lupin.
“Yes ...”
“No,” Luna said, giving Harry a look that said he shouldn't lie.
Harry pulled himself up on one of the desks and leant against it.
“Here –“ Lupin handed him a Chocolate Frog.
“He probably stocked up on some chocolate, knowing what he'd be teaching you,” Cedric reasoned.
“Eat this before we try again. I didn’t expect you to do it first time. In fact, I would have been astounded if you had.”
“He probably should have mentioned that before,” Harry said.
“It’s getting worse,” Harry muttered, biting the Frog’s head off.
“Now there's something you don't really hear every day,” Hermione said.
“I could hear her louder that time – and him – Voldemort –“
“Which is probably why there's so effective. The longer and more that your in their presence, the more they can effect you,” Luna said.
Lupin looked paler than usual.
“He seems to be rather freaked out at that,” Harry said.
“Harry, if you don’t want to continue, I will more than understand –“
“He thinks your losing your nerve,” Cedric said. “At least, that's the impression that I'm being given.”
“I'm getting that impression as well,” Harry said.
“I do!” said Harry fiercely, stuffing the rest of the Chocolate Frog into his mouth. “I’ve got to! What if the Dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? I can’t afford to fall off again. If we lose this game we’ve lost the Quidditch Cup!”
“Wood would so proud to hear that,” Hermione said, shaking her head at him. “You should want to do this because this way you'll be able to defend yourself against them, no matter what, not because of Quidditch.”
“All right then ...” said Lupin. “You might want to select another memory, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on ... that one doesn’t seem to have been strong enough ...”
“That's going to be kind of hard for me. I mean, I don't have many good memories,” Harry said.
“Try thinking of one with Ron and I in it,” Hermione said. “Having friends like us would probably work.”
Harry thought hard, and decided his feelings when Gryffindor had won the House Championship last year had definitely qualified as very happy. He gripped his wand tightly again, and took up his position in the middle of the classroom.
“Ready?” said Lupin, gripping the box lid.
“Ready,” said Harry, trying hard to fill his head with happy thoughts about Gryffindor winning, and not dark thoughts about what was going to happen when the box opened.
“Well, it seems we've gotten a bit to the root of your problem,” Hermione said. “You're having trouble concentrating on the memory that you've chosen. It's hard not to when you know how it's going to effect you.”
“Go!” said Lupin, pulling off the lid. The room went icily cold and dark once more. The Dementor glided forwards, drawing its rattly breath; one rotting hand was extending towards Harry –
“Expecto patronum!” Harry yelled. “Expecto patronum! Expecto pat—“
“I think I definitely need a stronger memory,” Harry said, wondering why he didn't bother trying to one of the ones that Hermione suggested. He did seem rather happy when it came to hanging out with them – of course, at this point, he wasn't on good terms with Hermione, plus, a good number of those memories probably had Ron and Hermione arguing a lot, as they seemed prone to do – even though this was one of the first times it was mentioned that it had gotten really bad.
White fog obscured his senses ... big, blurred shapes were moving around him ... then came a new voice, a man’s voice, shouting, panicking –
Harry's eyes widened as he realized exactly who this could be. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to form some words, show some sign of what he was thinking. Luna, however, was slightly oblivious to this, and continued reading on aloud, though.
“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off –“
“He...he tried to give us time to run,” Harry murmured, his eyes shining with tears. Knowing how his father died, knowing that he died so that Harry and his mother could live, was something that spoke to him, and made him...proud to know about his father. Nothing said about his father, whether by his aunt and uncle – though he knew now that they could be trusted to tell the truth – or in the book had really said much about him, and, while Cedric had told him about some of it, it wasn't enough. Harry had the feeling that this was because Cedric didn't really know him, he was just giving some information that his own parents had told him about them.
“He was rather brave, wasn't he?” Hermione said, thinking back to the first book, where Riddle had mentioned that. Now having words to what he said, she could picture what had happened more clearly in her mind, though she didn't have all the information needed.
The sounds of someone stumbling from a room – a door bursting open – a cackle of high-pitched laughter –
“Harry! Harry ... wake up ...”
Lupin was tapping Harry hard on the face.
“It seems like it's taking you longer to wake up,” Luna said, sounding worried.
“I think, perhaps, you should stop for the night,” Cedric said, also worried.
“I probably should, but I have the feeling that I won't,” Harry said, frowning as well from the fact that the effects were getting stronger – at least, that was what he figured, based on the fact that he was now hearing his father.
This time it was a minute before Harry understood why he was lying on a dusty classroom floor.
“I heard my dad,” Harry mumbled. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard him – he tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give my mum time to run for it ...”
Harry suddenly realised that there were tears on his face mingling with the sweat.
“I don't think he'll get on your case for crying,” Hermione said.
He bent his face low as possible, wiping them off on his robes, pretending to do up his shoelace, so that Lupin wouldn’t see.
“You heard James?” said Lupin, in a strange voice.
“Did he know my dad?” Harry said.
“It's possible,” Hermione said.
“Yeah ...” Face dry, Harry looked up. “Why – you didn’t know my dad, did you?”
“I probably clue in on that fact since he called him by his first name,” Harry said.
“I – I did, as a matter of fact,” said Lupin. “We were friends at Hogwarts.”
“So he's probably not that much older than your father and mother,” Hermione said.
“He was probably in the same year as them.” Harry said, having the feeling that there was more to it than just the fact that they were 'friends'.
“You know, this means that he also knows Black,” Luna said.
“And he's hiding this fact from you,” Cedric said, frowning. “If I didn't know better, I'd say people have been told not to really tell you anything exclusive about your parents.”
“It does seem like that. I mean, none of the teachers really seem to offer any comments about them, other than some things that you could probably find out on your own, and not even Professor Lupin, who says they were friends, and were probably more along the lines of close friends, isn't really telling you anything, or offering anything to say,” Hermione said.
Harry frowned, realizing that it was true. Outside of some standard things, things that he could probably find out on his own – along with whatever Cedric had said to him while they'd been reading, but that didn't really help his book self all that much – he didn't have that much to go on about his parents.
“Listen, Harry – perhaps we should leave it here for tonight.”
“I think hearing about your father has shocked him,” Hermione said.
“Probably, though he's also probably worried about the effects that it's having on me,” Harry said.
“This charm is ridiculously advanced ... I shouldn’t have suggested putting you through this ...”
“No!” said Harry. He got up again. “I’ll have one more go!”
“This better be the last one, then,” Hermione said. “At least, for tonight.”
“I’m not thinking of happy enough things, that’s what it is ... hang on ...”
He racked his brains. A really, really happy memory ... one that he could turn into a good, strong Patronus ...
The moment when he’d first found out he was a wizard, and would be leaving the Dursleys for Hogwarts!
“That would be a happy memory, though it would be slightly tainted by the fact that you have to return there at the end of every year,” Hemione said.
If that wasn’t a happy memory, he didn’t know what was ...
“Are Ron and I that bad that you don't have any happy memories of us?” Hermione asked.
“I'm not sure,” Harry said. “It could be that, with us fighting, I'd have trouble thinking of any of the good times I'm sure we have.”
concentrating very hard on how he had felt when he’d realised he’d be leaving Privet Drive, Harry got to his feet and faced the packing case once more.
“Ready?” said Lupin, who looked as though he was doing this against his better judgement.
“Probably because, in a way, he is,” Luna said.
“Concentrating hard? All right – go!”
He pulled off the lid of the case for the third time, and the Dementor rose out of it; the room fell cold and dark –
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry bellowed.
“You're definitely putting quite a bit of power behind it, then,” Cedric said.
“EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
The screaming inside Harry’s head had started again – except this time, it sounded as though it was coming from a badly tuned radio. Softer and louder and softer again ... and he could still see the Dementor ... it had halted ... and then a huge, silver shadow came bursting out of the end of Harry’s wand, to hover between him and the Dementor,
“You're able to do it. It's probably not as strong as it should be, but you're definitely doing it,” Cedric said.
and though Harry’s legs felt like water, he was still on his feet ... though for how much longer, he wasn’t sure …
“It's draining,” Hermione said, frowning. “That's not good, and it's probably why not many grown wizards can do the spell, because it takes a lot of strength to do it.”
“Riddikulus!” roared Lupin, springing forwards.
There was a loud crack, and Harry’s cloudy Patronus vanished along with the Dementor; he sank into a chair, feeling as exhausted as if he’d just run a mile, his legs shaking.
"I'm going to have to get used to the spell,” Harry said. “Maybe I can build up a tolerance towards it that'll help keep me from being so drained. I mean, if it's like I'd just run a mile without being in practice, then I would imagine that, by practising, it would help allow me to go on even longer, without getting exhausted.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Professor Lupin forcing the Boggart back into the packing case with his wand; it had turned into a silvery orb again.
“I have a feeling that it's a good think that the orb isn't distinctive,” Hermione said. “Otherwise, I think people might figure out it's a full moon, which would probably lead people to wonder why, and some might figure out what he is, particularly since it would make sense if a werewolf was afraid of the moon.”
“True,” Harry said. The other two nodded, though, from something that their parents had once said, they have the feeling that wasn't completely true. After all, they'd heard rumours about there being one werewolf who seemed to love what he could do and often went after children. At least that last part was something that Cedric had heard his father say.
“Excellent!” Lupin said, striding over to where Harry sat. “Excellent, Harry! That was definitely a start!”
“Can we have another go? Just one more go?”
“Harry,” Hermione groaned, looking at him and shaking her head.
“Not now,” said Lupin firmly. “You’ve had enough for one night. Here –“
He handed Harry a large bar of Honeydukes’ best chocolate.
“Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood.”
“Which would really cut into my learning time,” Harry said.
“Ours too,” Hermione, Cedric, and Luna all said.
“Same time next week?”
“OK,” said Harry. He took a bite of the chocolate and watched Lupin extinguishing the lamps that had rekindled with the disappearance of the Dementor. A thought had just occurred to him.
“Let me guess. You're now thinking about the fact that, if Lupin knew your father, then he also knew Black,” Cedric said.
“Most likely,” Harry said.
“Professor Lupin?” he said. “If you knew my dad, you must’ve known Sirius Black as well.”
Lupin turned very quickly.
“What gives you that idea?” he said sharply.
“The fact that I know that they were friends while in school,” Harry said.
“I think he knows that you're not supposed to know that,” Hermione said.
“That, or he thinks that you heard something concerning him that makes him defensive,” Cedric said.
“Which, if you think about it, you kind of did, even if your book self doesn't realize it,” Luna said.
“Nothing – I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts, too ...”
Lupin’s face relaxed.
“So it probably was the second reason,” Cedric said.
“Yes, I knew him,” he said shortly. “Or I thought I did. You’d better get off, Harry, it’s getting late.”
“If it wasn't for the fact that this was all happening during a war, I would wonder how he could assume that he doesn't know his friend all that much,” Hermione said.
Harry left the classroom, walked along the corridor and around a corner, then took a detour behind a suit of armour and sank down on its plinth to finish his chocolate, wishing he hadn’t mentioned Black, as Lupin was obviously not keen on the subject.
“I probably would have started to ask him about my parents if I hadn't started out asking about Black,” Harry said.
Then Harry’s thoughts wandered back to his mother and father ...
He felt drained and strangely empty, even though he was so full of chocolate. Terrible though it was to hear his parents’ last moments replayed inside his head, these were the only times Harry had heard their voices since he was a very small child. But he’d never be able to produce a proper Patronus if he half wanted to hear his parents again …
“So I kind of need to get a grip, and stop wanting to listen to their echoes,” Harry said.
“They’re dead,” he told himself sternly. “They’re dead, and listening to echoes of them won’t bring them back. You’d better get a grip on yourself if you want that Quidditch Cup.”
“Has Wood been able to brainwash you or something?” Hermione asked, shaking her head at him.
“Probably something,” Harry said. “Plus, I would like to see Wood's work pay off.”
He stood up, crammed the last bit of chocolate into his mouth and headed back to Gryffindor Tower.
“I wonder if Ron's waiting for me to know how it went,” Harry said.
Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin won, though narrowly. According to Wood, this was good news for Gryffindor, who would take second place if they beat Ravenclaw too.
“I have no doubt that you will,” Luna said.
He therefore increased the number of team practices to five a week.
"Oh, nice. And what about those with us who have homework to do,” Harry said.
This meant that with Lupin’s Anti-Dementor classes, which in themselves were more draining than six Quidditch practices, Harry had just one night a week to do all his homework.
“Wood should take into account that not everyone on the team is so into Quidditch that they don't care about their school work," Hermione said.
Even so, he wasn’t showing the strain nearly as much as Hermione, whose immense workload finally seemed to be getting to her.
“It took a while, though,” Harry said.
“That's because I'm not only stubborn, but I probably rested a lot during the break,” Hermione said. “And, as it's coming closer to exams, the teachers are probably piling on the homework.”
Every night, without fail, Hermione was to be seen in a corner of the common room, several tables spread with books, Arithmancy charts, Rune dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects, and file upon file of extensive notes; she barely spoke to anybody, and snapped when she was interrupted.
“Oh yeah, they're definitely piling on the homework,” Harry said.
“And it seems, without Ron and Harry here to help you take a break, you've most likely been on a doing as much as possible at one time phase,” Cedric said. “You probably are late to bed, early to rise, and forget to eat lunch as well.”
“I don't think that sounds very healthy for me,” Hermione said.
It's not,” Luna said. “If you don't get the right amount of food and sleep, then your likely to lose quite a bit of weight, weight you more likely shouldn't lose, and your bound to be paranoid as well. And then there's the fact that, if your tired, you won't do well on your exams, which will, of course, weight heavily at the back of your mind, which won't do you any good, either, because it'll make you even more determined to do your work, which will just keep the cycle going, and could make it worse as well.”
“How’s she doing it?” Ron muttered to Harry one evening, as Harry sat finishing a nasty essay on Undetectable Poisons for Snape. Harry looked up. Hermione was barely visible behind a tottering pile of books.
“How many books do you need for your classes,” Harry said, eyes wide at the though of all those books.
“Doing what?”
“Getting to all her classes!” Ron said.
“Why does it matter to him how I'm doing it?” Hermione said. “He's not my keeper, and it's none of his business, particularly since he's not talking to me right now.”
“I heard her talking to Professor Vector, that Arithmancy witch, this morning. They were going on about yesterday’s lesson, but Hermione can’t’ve been there, because she was with us in Care of Magical Creatures!”
“So, you were in two places at one time,” Cedric said, sounding confused.
“And Ernie McMillan told me she’s never missed a Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Divination, and she’s never missed one of them, either!”
“Yeah, I can see how that would confuse a person,” Harry said.
Harry didn’t have time to fathom the mystery of Hermione’s impossible timetable at the moment; he really needed to get on with Snape’s essay.
“Yeah, I can see why I would be more concerned with the essay instead of Hermione. I mean, Snape hates me, after all, and will most likely use any excuse to give me detention,” Harry said.
Two seconds later, however, he was interrupted again, this time by Wood.
“He probably talked to Professor McGonagall by now,” Cedric said.
“Bad news, Harry. I’ve just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. She – er – got a bit shirty with me. Told me I’d got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about you staying alive.”
“If she thinks that, then there's probably a good reason for it,” Hermione said
“Just because I told her I didn’t care if it threw you off, as long as you caught the Snitch on it first.”
Four mouths dropped in unison.
“He said what?” Hermione said, shaking her head in disbelief.
Wood shook his head in disbelief. “Honestly, the way she was yelling at me ... you’d think I’d said something terrible.”
“Idiot, you did say something terrible,” Cedric said.
“Harry,” Luna said. “If you end up in Gryffindor this time around, under no circumstances are you to play Quidditch for that house until Wood is gone.”
Harry thought about laughing for a moment, as her tone of voice, as well as the look on her face, was completely serious, which, coupled by what she said, was rather strange for her – so far, she'd never really lost her dreaminess, whether it was in her tone of voice or the look on her face, and, when she did, it was usually towards the more important part of the books. Having it being said towards something small like this was kind of out of character for her. Still, he could see why she would say that.
“I'll try,” Harry said. “Remember, I didn't exactly try out for the position, I was kind of thrust into it.”
“True,” Luna said. “However, I think it'll be safe to say that, this time around, you won't be going after Malfoy for Neville's rememberal.”
“Then I asked her how much longer she was going to keep it ...”
'As long as it's necessary for her to do so,” Hermione said. “They'll be checking if for any curse and jinx that they might think is on it, after all, and I doubt that it's an easy process.”
He screwed up his face and imitated Professor McGonagall’s severe voice, “ 'As long as necessary, Wood' ... I reckon it’s time you ordered a new broom, Harry.”
“Is Wood saying that, or is that something else that Professor McGonagall said?” Hermione asked.
“Wood said it himself,” Luna answered.
“There’s an order form at the back of Which Broomstick ...”
“I wish I was there next to you, I'd probably noticed that, and realize that it is possible for Black to get you the Firebolt,” Hermione said.
“you could get a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, like Malfoy’s got.”
“I won't get anything Malfoy owns,” Harry said.
“I’m not buying anything Malfoy thinks is good,” said Harry flatly.
“Then I guess that means that your not going to want that Firebolt, because I'm positive that he thinks it's good,” Hermione said.
“Yeah, my book self should have worded that better,” Harry said.
January faded imperceptibly into February, with no change in the bitterly cold weather. The match against Ravenclaw was drawing nearer and nearer, but Harry still hadn’t ordered a new broom.
“Your procrastinating,” Luna said.
He was now asking Professor McGonagall for news of the Firebolt after every Transfiguration lesson, Ron standing hopefully at his shoulder, Hermione rushing past with her face averted.
“I would suggest that you not do that, because you're just going to annoy her,” Cedric said.
“No, Potter, you can’t have it back yet,” Professor McGonagall told him the twelfth time this happened, before he’d even opened his mouth.
“Yup, definitely annoying her,” Cedric said.
“We’ve checked for most of the usual curses, but Professor Flitwick believes the broom might be carrying a Hurling Hex. I shall tell you once we’ve finished checking it. Now, please stop badgering me.”
“So, don't ask again. Otherwise, she just might purposely not give it to you before the match,” Hermione said.
To make matters even worse, Harry’s Anti-Dementor lessons were not going nearly as well as he had hoped. Several sessions on, he was able to produce an indistinct, silvery shadow every time the Boggart-Dementor approached him, but his Patronus was too feeble to drive the Dementor away.
“Well, the memory your using is probably strong enough, so I'd say your little pep talk after the first lesson didn't really take hold, and you still want to hear your parents voices,” Cedric said.
All it did was hover, like a semi-transparent cloud, draining Harry of energy as he fought to keep it there. Harry felt angry with himself, guilty about his secret desire to hear his parents’ voices again.
“Maybe, this time around, if your lucky, you can convince the teachers who had them to tell you about them,” Luna said.
“You’re expecting too much of yourself,” said Professor Lupin sternly, in their fourth week of practice. “For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren’t passing out any more, are you?”
“It doesn't sound like I am,” Harry said.
“I thought a Patronus would – charge the Dementors down or something,” said Harry dispiritedly. “Make them disappear –“
“That does sound like what Professor Lupin's Patronus did, on the train,” Hermione said.
“The true Patronus does do that,” said Lupin.
“Your Patronus keeps you from fainting, at least,” Luna said.
“But you’ve achieved a great deal in a very short space of time. If the Dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground.”
“Which is a good thing,” Cedric said.
“You said it’s harder if there are loads of them,” said Harry.
“I think he has faith in you, though,” Hermione said.
“I have complete confidence in you,” said Lupin, smiling. “Here – you’ve earned a drink. Something from the Three Broomsticks, you won’t have tried it before –“
“I suggest you be careful and not say anything about it,” Hermione said, having a feeling that she knew what it was.
“And if you do, say that the twins smuggled some of that in last year,” Cedric said.
He pulled two bottles out of his briefcase.
“Butterbeer!” said Harry, without thinking. “Yeah, I like that stuff!”
“Quick, say the twins smuggled some of it in last year,” Hermione said.
Lupin raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, it kind of is suspicious that you would know what it is when your most supposed to be able to go to Hogsmeade,” Luna said.
“Oh – Ron and Hermione brought me some back from Hogsmeade,” Harry lied quickly.
“I see,” said Lupin, though he still looked slightly suspicious.
“I don't think he quite believes you,” Hermione said.
“Well – let’s drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw! Not that I’m supposed to take sides, as a teacher ...” he added hastily.
“Eh, all of the teachers do it, so he should worry all that much,” Cedric said.
They drank the Butterbeer in silence, until Harry voiced something he’d been wondering for a while.
“I wonder what that is,” Hermione said.
“What’s under a Dementor’s hood?”
“Why would you want to know that?” Cedric asked.
“Don't know,” Harry said.
Professor Lupin lowered his bottle thoughtfully.
“Hmmm ... well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor only lowers its hood to use its last and worst weapon.”
“What’s that?”
“They call it the Dementors’ Kiss,” said Lupin, with a slightly twisted smile. “It’s what Dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and – and suck out his soul.”
“What?” Harry said.
“They take a persons soul...” Hermione said. “Who was the idiot that put those things around the school again?”
Harry accidentally spat out a bit of Butterbeer.
“What – they kill –?”
“No, Harry,” Hermione said. “So long as the brain and heart still works, you'll live, but a soul is pretty much what makes you...you.”
“Oh, no,” said Lupin. “Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you’ll have no sense of self any more, no memory, no ... anything. There’s no chance at all of recovery. You’ll just – exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone for ever ... lost.”
The four shuddered.
Lupin drank a little more Butterbeer, then said, “It’s the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry have given the Dementors permission to perform it if they find him.”
“That's not good,” Harry said. “Since it's been sussed out that Black might actually be innocent, then they've condemned an innocent man to a horrible fate.”
Harry sat stunned for a moment at the idea of someone having their soul sucked out through their mouth. But then he thought of Black.
“I don't think your book self will agree with that sentiment,” Hermione said. “In fact, I think your book self would have the complete opposite effect.”
“He deserves it,” he said suddenly.
“You think so?” said Lupin lightly. “Do you really think anyone deserves that?”
“Riddle, all of his supporters, and the idea of blood supremacy does,” Harry said, gaining a slight laugh from the others at the last idea.
“I don't think an idea can be kissed,” Cedric said.
“Yes,” said Harry defiantly. “For ... for some things ...”
“For, in you book self's mind, being the reason why your parents are dead,” Hermione said.
He would have liked to have told Lupin about the conversation he’d overheard about Black in the Three Broomsticks, about Black betraying his mother and father, but it would have involved revealing that he’d gone to Hogsmeade without permission, and he knew Lupin wouldn’t be very impressed by that.
“Probably not,” Hermione said.
So he finished his Butterbeer, thanked Lupin, and left the History of Magic classroom.
Harry half wished that he hadn’t asked what was under a Dementor’s hood, the answer had been so horrible,
“Well, at least I got an answer, even if it is horrible,” Harry said.
and he was so lost in unpleasant thoughts of what it would feel like to have your soul sucked out of you that he walked headlong into Professor McGonagall halfway up the stairs.
“I suggest that you watch what your doing, Harry,” Hermione said.
“Do watch where you’re going, Potter!”
“Yeah, it's not nice to run into people, Harry,” Luna said.
“Sorry, Professor –“
“I’ve just been looking for you in the Gryffindor common room.”
“So, do you think she's going to give the broom to you, or announce that there was something wrong with it,” Cedric said.
“She's going to give it to me, because if it was Black who sent it to me, it's most likely safe,” Harry said.
“Well, here it is, we’ve done everything we could think of, and there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with it at all – you’ve got a very good friend somewhere, Potter ...”
“More like a godfather who probably feels like he has to make up for many birthdays and Christmases,” Hermione said.
Harry’s jaw dropped. She was holding out his Firebolt, and it looked as magnificent as ever.
“I can have it back?” Harry said weakly. “Seriously?”
“I think she's serious. I can't see her playing a cruel joke like that,” Cedric said.
“Seriously,” said Professor McGonagall, and she was actually smiling. “I daresay you’ll need to get the feel of it before Saturday’s match, won’t you? And Potter – do try and win, won’t you? Or we’ll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me only last night ...”
“So, I'll not only have to deal with Wood if I lose, but Professor McGonagall as well,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I'm so not going to like that.”
Speechless, Harry carried the Firebolt back upstairs towards Gryffindor Tower. As he turned a corner, he saw Ron dashing towards him, grinning from ear to ear.
“Of course, when Professor McGonagall asked where he was, Ron probably figured out that she wanted to talk about the broom,” Hermione said.
“She gave it to you? Excellent! Listen, can I still have a go on it? Tomorrow?”
“Yeah ... anything ...” said Harry, his heart lighter than it had been in a month. “You know what – we should make it up with Hermione. She was only trying to help ...”
“Oh, now you think about making up with me, just because you got the broom,” Hermione said scathily. “And what, if it had been cursed, would you have done?”
Harry winced.
“That's my book self who said it, not real me,” Harry said. “I wouldn't think a broom was more important that you.”
“I have a feeling that a part of his reason for saying to do it now is because Ron won't be irritated at you now that you have the broom back,” Luna said.
“Yeah, all right,” said Ron.
“See, he's now willing to forgive you as well, though his opinion doesn't matter,” Luna said.
“She’s in the common room now – working, for a change.”
“That was probably said in total sarcasm,” Hermione said.
They turned into the corridor to Gryffindor Tower and saw Neville Longbottom, pleading with Sir Cadogan, who seemed to be refusing him entrance.
“I wrote them down,” Neville was saying tearfully, “but I must’ve dropped them somewhere!”
“Knowing what we know about Neville, it's possible, for whatever it is that he dropped,” Hermione said.
“A likely tale!” roared Sir Cadogan. Then, spotting Harry and Ron, “Good even, my fine young yeomen! Come clap this loon in irons, he is trying to force entry to the chambers within!”
“He is a Gryffindor, and therefore allowed entrance to the chambers within,” Harry said.
“Oh, shut up,” said Ron, as he and Harry drew level with Neville.
“I’ve lost the passwords!” Neville told them miserably.
“Oh, lovely. Now someone has the passwords to the Gryffindor common rooms,” Hermione said.
“Now Black could have them,” Harry said.
“True,” Hermione said. “With your luck, that's actually probably what happened. So, I guess we should hear about it at some point in the book.”
“I made him tell me what passwords he was going to use this week, because he keeps changing them, and now I don’t know what I’ve done with them!”
“Yeah, I can see why he's miserable, and had to write them down,” Hermione said.
“Oddsbodikins,” said Harry to Sir Cadogan, who looked extremely disappointed and reluctantly swung forwards to let them into the common room. There was a sudden, excited murmur as every head turned and the next moment, Harry was surrounded by people exclaiming over his Firebolt.
“I think it got around that you had a Firebolt, you?” Hermione said, sounding amused.
“Where’d you get it, Harry?”
“Will you let me have a go?”
“Have you ridden it yet, Harry?”
“Ravenclaw’ll have no chance, they’re all on Cleansweep Sevens!”
“Can I just hold it, Harry?”
“Wow, that broom is going to be popular when it comes out,” Cedric said.
“The only question asked that I can't answer properly is the first one,” Harry said. “Well, that, and the second one, as I do not know who asked that, and, therefore, I don't know if I can trust them or not.”
After ten minutes or so, during which the Firebolt was passed around and admired from every angle, the crowd dispersed and Harry and Ron had a clear view of Hermione, the only person who hadn’t rushed over to them,
“Hmm, well lets see. My friends value a broomstick over being friends with me, I'm not that into sports, and only really go to the matches because Harry's on the team, and, in a way, that broom is what my friend value over me, so I would just be jumping with joy to rush over and see it, now wouldn't I?” Hermione said sarcastically.
bent over her work, and carefully avoiding their eyes. Harry and Ron approached her table and at last, she looked up.
“I got it back,” said Harry,
“Which means, to my book self, that it's perfectly all right to talk to you again,” Harry said, sounding bitter. He couldn't believe the fact that his book self would be so callous to a supposed friend.
grinning at her and holding up the Firebolt.
“See, Hermione? There wasn’t anything wrong with it!” said Ron.
“I think he came over just to brag that he was right and you were wrong,” Luna said.
“Well, since I didn't tell to be proven right, but to make sure it was safe, having him say I'm wrong doesn't mean much, though I'll probably take his words badly, with the stress I'm under,” Hermione said.
“Well – there might have been!” said Hermione. “I mean, at least you know now that it’s safe!”
“Yeah, I suppose so,” said Harry.
“You sound so happy to know that,” Cedric said.
“I’d better put it upstairs –“
“I’ll take it!” said Ron eagerly. “I’ve got to give Scabbers his Rat Tonic.”
He took the Firebolt, and, holding it as if it were made of glass,
Hermione rolled her eyes at that.
carried it away up the boys’ staircase.
“Can I sit down, then?” Harry asked Hermione.
“I ought to make you suffer for being so mean,” Hermione said. “But I won't. Or, at least, my book self won't.”
“I suppose so,” said Hermione, moving a great stack of parchment off a chair.
Harry looked around at the cluttered table, at the long Arithmancy essay on which the ink was still glistening, at the even longer Muggle Studies essay (‘Explain why Muggles Need Electricity’)
“Don't actually need it, we just like to use it,” Hermione said. “And it does make life a bit easier.”
and at the Rune translation Hermione was now poring over.
“How are you getting through all this stuff?” Harry asked her.
“Working hard,” Hermione said.
“Oh, well – you know – working hard,” said Hermione.
“I think we can figure that out,” Harry said.
Close to, Harry saw that she looked almost as tired as Lupin.
“You're definitely not getting enough sleep then,” Luna said.
“Why don’t you just drop a couple of subjects?” Harry asked, watching her lifting books as she searched for her Rune dictionary.
Hermione looked at him scandalised before shaking her head.
“My book self won't take that well,” Hermione said. “Though, I do believe, this time around, I'll just go with three of the five subjects, not all of them.”
“I couldn’t do that!” said Hermione, looking scandalised.
“Arithmancy looks terrible,” said Harry, picking up a very complicated-looking number chart.
“It has to do with numbers,” Harry said, looking interested. “I'm good with numbers.”
“Your book self doesn't seem to be all that interested in them, though,” Cedric said.
Harry frowned at that, realizing that he was right, and wondering what had changed. Of course, it wasn't something he should really think about, since there was already a big example of how different his book self was to his real self.
“I think you're letting Ron influence you a bit too much,” Luna said. “As Ron's not that into school, it's rubbing off on you, making you a bit lazy towards school yourself.”
“Oh, no, it’s wonderful!” said Hermione earnestly. “It’s my favourite subject! It’s –“
But exactly what was wonderful about Arithmancy, Harry never found out.
“Why not?” Hermione said, having looked forward to learn what one of the classes was like.
At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys’ staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. There came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder – and then, Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet.
"Why does he have a bedsheet with him?" Harry asked.
“LOOK!” he bellowed, striding over to Hermione’s table. “LOOK!” he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face.
“Has he gone mad?” Harry asked.
“Seems like it,” Cedric said.
“Ron, what –?”
“SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!”
Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered.
“I'm probably wondering what he's accusing me of,” Harry said.
Harry looked down at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it. Something that looked horribly like –
“BLOOD!” Ron yelled into the stunned silence.
“How much?” Luna said, frowning.
“HE’S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?”
“N-no,” said Hermione, in a trembling voice.
Luna paused for a moment to yawn, then continued.
Ron threw something down onto Hermione’s Rune translation. Hermione and Harry leant forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs.
“Of course, he's blaming me because of hair that could have easily been there since Christmas,” Hermione said.
“Yeah,” Harry said. “Scabbers has been weird since they returned from Egypt, and with the way Crookshanks goes after him, I wouldn't be surprised if he just decided to make sure that your cat couldn't get him.”
“Wait, your saying the rat faked it's own death?” Cedric said.
“Since we're not sure it's actually a rat, yes, that is exactly what I'm saying,” Harry said. “Plus, I don't think cats would swallow a rat whole, bones included and all.”
“They don't,” Hermione said.
“Which also supports my theory that Scabbers has faked his death,” Harry said.
“True,” Cedric said.
“That's the end of the chapter,” Luna said, stopping the discussion for now, and handing the book to Harry. He took it from her, going to turn the page when Luna yawned again, which set off a chain reaction of the others yawning this time. Looking at the clock, they saw that it wasn't extremely late, but it also wasn't early.
“What do you th-th-think?” Cedric started to asked, yawning again as he realized that he was tired, the early wake up that morning making itself known to him. “Think we can get through another chapter, or should we go to bed?”
“I'm am a bit tired,” Harry said. “I'll go for the bed option.”
“Me too,” Luna said. Hermione, who was the least tired of them all, nodded her consent to the plan, knowing that she was outnumbered, and deciding to work on her notes of the first two books for a while before going to bed.
With that being decided, Harry bookmarked the page they were at, and, after saying goodnight, the four separated into males and females, heading to their respective dorms for the night. While the other three got read for bed and went fell asleep pretty quickly, Hermione worked on her notes of the books for a while, until she was also tired, getting ready and crawling into bed after bookmarking where she was at in the books. She was the last of them to fall asleep.