Adventures of Harriet Potter

The Patronus

Harriet knew that Hermione had meant well and hadn't realized she'd wanted to thoroughly examine the broom before ever riding it, but that didn't stop her from being angry with her. Even after forgiving her for it. She had been the owner of the best broom in the world for a few short hours, and now, because of her interference, she didn't know whether she would ever see it again. She was eighty-five percent 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? After all, the teachers didn't care about the state of student property. She only had to look at the situation with Ron's wand just last year for proof of that.
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. Hermione, who remained convinced that she had acted for the best, started avoiding the common room. Harriet and Ron supposed she had taken refuge in the library and Ron at least didn't try to persuade her to come back. 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 Harriet out on the night before term started. "Had a good Christmas?" he said, and then, without waiting for an answer, he sat down, lowered his voice, and said, "I've been doing some thinking over Christmas, Harriet. After the last match, you know. If the dementors come to the next one . . . I mean . . . we can't afford you to — well —"
Wood broke off, looking awkward. "I'm working on it," said Harriet quickly. "Professor Lupin said he'd train me to ward off the dementors. We should be starting this week. He said he'd have time after Christmas." She briefly wondered what Lupin would use to teach her, since it was unlikely a real dementor would be allowed into the castle. "Ah," said Wood, his expression clearing. "Well, in that case — I really didn't want to lose you as Seeker, Harriet. And have you ordered a new broom yet?"
"No," said Harriet. "What! You'd better get a move on, you know — you can't ride that Shooting Star against Ravenclaw!" Wood said frantically. "She got a Firebolt for Christmas," said Ron. "A Firebolt? No! Seriously? A — a real Firebolt?" said Wood, starting to get excited. "Don't get excited, Oliver," said Harriet gloomily. "I haven't got it anymore. It was confiscated." And she explained all about how the Firebolt was now being checked for jinxes. "Jinxed? How could it be jinxed?" Wood said, sounding absolutely flabbergasted by the idea. "Sirius Black," Harriet said wearily. "He's supposed to be after me. So McGonagall reckons he might have sent it."
Even though Harriet didn't doubt it, she felt there was something missing. Like a large piece of a puzzle that was completely missing, leaving the picture incomplete even though the majority of it was there. Waving aside the information that a famous murderer was after his Seeker, 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?" Harriet admitted it did sound silly, then remembered that mail order was a thing. Plus the goblins at Gringotts wouldn't care if black was on the run, if he wanted to spend some of his gold on a broomstick in the process they'd be happy as long as it made them money in the long run. "I know," said Harriet, "but McGonagall still wants to strip it down —" Wood went pale. "I'll go and talk to her, Harriet," he promised. "I'll make her see reason. . . . 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 . . ."

Classes started again the next day. The last thing anyone felt like doing was spending two hours on the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamanders for their enjoyment, 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. According to Ron and Hermione the first Divination lesson of the new term was much less fun; Professor Trelawney apparently was now teaching them palmistry, and she lost no time in informing Hermione that her closest friend probably had the shortest life line she would ever see — if Harriet ever let the fraud see her palms.
It was Defense Against the Dark Arts that Harriet was keen to get to; after her conversation with Wood, she wanted to get started on her anti-dementor lessons as soon as possible. "Ah yes," said Lupin, when Harriet reminded him of his promise at the end of class. "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 practice on. . . ."
"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?" Harriet didn't respond, she had her suspicions about it but the evidence was circumstantial. Besides, if she was right, it wasn't her secret to tell. There was a loud and impatient "tuh" from behind them. It was Hermione, who had been sitting at the feet of a suit of armor, repacking her bag, which was so full of books it wouldn't close.
"And what are you tutting at us for?" said Ron irritably. "Nothing," said Hermione in a lofty voice, heaving her bag back over her shoulder. "Yes, you were," said Ron. "I said I wonder what's wrong with Lupin, and you —" Harriet was starting to wish they'd just find an empty classroom to snog & shag in and get it over with already. Her best friends arguing like an old married couple was getting tiring to watch, let alone be in the middle of. "Well, isn't it obvious?" said Hermione, with a look of maddening superiority. "If you don't want to tell us, don't," snapped Ron. "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." Harriet smacked him upside the head, clearly Hermione had the same thoughts she did about what was going on with Professor Lupin.