The Other Potter Book Three.

Chapter Twenty Three

It looked like the end of Ron and Hermione's friendship. Each was so angry with the other that I couldn't see how they'd ever make up.

Ron was enraged that Hermione had never taken Crookshanks's attempts to eat Scabbers seriously, hadn't bothered to keep a close enough watch on him, and was still trying to pretend that Crookshanks was innocent by suggesting that Ron look for Scabbers under all the boys' beds. Hermione, meanwhile, maintained fiercely that Ron had no proof that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, that the ginger hairs might have been there since Christmas, and that Ron had been prejudiced against her cat ever since Crookshanks had landed on Ron's head in the Magical Menagerie.

I tried to tell them that in tough times friends should stick together. This earned me two slaps, one from Hermione.

"Willow you idiot! You don't even know what you're talking about!" She snapped at me before stalking off.

The other slap was from Ron. Hermione hit me harder though.

"Damn it Willow! What would you do if Soxy got eaten by Hedwig! You wouldn't be happy with Harry would you?"

"But Hedwig likes Soxy."

"Ugh! You're so immature!" he stalked off to haunt the boy's dorm.

"How hypocritical."

I sat down halfway between anger and sadness so I settled for happy. It's easier to be happy than sad. Harry slumped down beside me.

"This is crap." He said.

"It will brighten up!" I said positively.

"I doubt it."

Ron came back down the stairs as though he was bored of being annoyed on his own.

"That cat ate Scabbers!" Ron complained as he threw himself into a chair.

"Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was," said Fred bracingly. "And he's been off-colour for ages, he was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly -- one swallow -- he probably didn't feel a thing."

"Fred!" said Ginny indignantly.

"All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself," said George.

"He bit Goyle for us once!" Ron said miserably. "Remember, Harry?"

"Yeah, that's true," said Harry.

"His finest hour," said Fred, unable to keep a straight face. "Let the scar on Goyle's finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory. Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat, what's the point of moaning?"

I was all depressed when the team left for Quidditch practice.

There was no Harry to destroy my optimistic thoughts.

There was no Ron to complain about Scabbers and my immaturity.

There was no Hermione to cry to me or try to cheer up.

There was no George to, ahem, tell secrets to.

I actually sat down and read my potions textbook, in a surprisingly short amount of time. The worst part was that I liked it. After freaking myself out from being quiet and reading potions books, I decided to give the Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook a try. It was equally awesome.

"Okay, Willow, you're reading and being quiet, what's wrong?" Lucy called out in my head.

"You know, I really am not sure." I said back.

***

I went down to breakfast the next morning by myself. I sat down and started eating everything in sight. I think I'm an emotional eater. As Harry entered the Great Hall, heads turned in the direction of the Firebolt, and there was a good deal of excited muttering