THE ANGEL OF WOE | RON WEASLEY [BOOK THREE]

13. SHE WOULD BE PROUD

The next weekend rolled around soon enough, giving Gene a reason to avoid the others. In fact, she was avoiding everyone. She'd spent most of the morning in her dorm, alone.

It was the afternoon when she finally left the dorms, taking in the crisp winter air as she went for a walk. But all Gene was thinking about was how she had let everyone down. It was all she could think about. It was only worsened as she caught Harry, Ron and Hermione walking toward her on the opposite side of the bridge.

Gene swallowed thickly, burrowing her chin further into her jumper as she prepared to turn on her heels, though they were much too fast for her.

"You can't keep avoiding us forever, you know." Hermione spoke softly, though her tone was stern.

"I was doing an alright job until now." Gene half joked, though it didn't land as she watched their faces unchanged.

Gene sighed heavily, stopping to stand at the bridge's railing. She looked silently over the sea of shifting mist, cast over Hogwarts' grounds, the other three stood a little further behind.

"I tried so hard to help. But all I've done is made things worse." she confessed, finally telling them how she'd been feeling for the past week. It was long overdue. "It doesn't matter now. I don't want to play anymore. All it does it make you care too much. And the more you care, the more you have to lose."

And Gene– she had everything to lose.

She swallowed her emotions, turning away until she caught a glimpse of a very familiar, and very large figure, hidden behind an arch. "Hagrid?" her eyes widened.

Without warning, her feet ran in his direction and brought him into a tight hug, which he managed to return. Gene hadn't felt relief like this in a long time. But the look on Hagrid's face, ignoring the cuts and bruises, had it diminishing in Gene's chest.

They followed him through the Forbidden Forest, much to Ron's reluctance, though they hadn't the faintest clue as to why. Hagrid pushed through the mist, the four following as they peered nervously around at the primeval forest.

"Hagrid? Please, can't you just tell us?" Harry attempts to get an explanation out of Hagrid, to no avail.

That's when Gene had stopped in her tracks, hearing an ominous rumbling– and it was getting closer. A deafening blur of hooves and torsos thunder by them, Gene catching glimpses of human torsos and war-painted faces.

The herd of centaurs finally passed them by, Hagrid turning to them with concern written across his features.

"Never seen the Centaurs so riled- an' they're dangerous at the best of times. Ministry restricts their territory much more, they're gonna have a real uprisin' on their hands- or worse." Hagrid explained further, though almost not at all.

"Hagrid, what's going on?" Hermione asked gently.

"Sorry to be so mysterious, you four. I wouldn't be botherin' yer with this at all– but with Dumbledore gone, I'll likely be gettin' the sack any day now, and I can't leave without tellin' someone about him." Hagrid's voice wavered, notifying them that he was close to tears.

"About who?" Harry asked, as a sudden rumble in the woods shocked them once more, a body rising amongst the mist.

"Go easy, now. He can be a bit high-spirited." Hagrid warned gently, though it didn't feel like much of a warning.

Gene's eyes widened as they began to step back, Harry's hand going over her front protectively as they watched the giant emerge from the grounds. He was taller than half the trees in the forest, with all five of them having to crane their necks to see him properly.