In Ink and Inheritance (Book 1)

Chapter 21 - The Things We Miss

Oliver Wood's POV

You learn a lot about people by how they sit at breakfast.

Fred and George always slouched like the table owed them something. Alicia perched like she was already strategizing three hours ahead. Angelina stirred her porridge counterclockwise. And Harriet-Harriet folded into herself like she didn't quite believe she was allowed to exist peacefully.

Until recently.

Now she leaned into the table with quiet confidence, fingers brushing Ron's when she laughed, shoulders square when Hermione read aloud some absurd Ministry ruling. Her braid still curled down her back, loose and a little uneven. I liked it better that way.

But this morning?

This morning felt...off.

It started with Ron.

He was hunched over his plate, arms cradling something under his cloak, muttering. Hermione kept darting glances at him, her expression a blend of frustration and fury, the kind that usually preceded some sort of magical explosion - or at least a shouting match outside the library.

Harriet looked tired. Not Patronus-practice tired. Worried tired.

After breakfast, I caught up with her near the Charms corridor.

"Something going on?"

She looked at me like she wanted to say no - but didn't.

"It's Scabbers," she said finally. "Ron's rat. He's been acting weird. Hiding. Jumpier than usual. Hermione thinks it's more than stress."

"More than stress?"

"She thinks something's wrong with him."

I raised a brow. "It's a rat."

Harriet hesitated. "Yeah... but we've seen a lot of things that aren't what they seem lately."

Fair.

She tucked her hands into her sleeves and glanced down the corridor. "It's not just that, either. I keep getting this... feeling. Like something's waiting. Watching. And the Dementors haven't even been near the grounds in two days."

"You think it's Black."

She nodded. "Lupin's worried too. But he won't say why."

My jaw clenched. I hated that she was caught in the middle of this. A contract binding her to a boy nearly grown, a murderer apparently hunting her, a rat with secrets, and magic that kept asking more than it gave.

I touched her wrist gently. "You're not alone, you know."

"I know."

She didn't smile.

But she didn't pull away either.

As she headed off to class, I watched her braid swing behind her, tension in every step. She carried everything so close to the chest - even now, even with me.

And yet...

I couldn't shake the feeling that something else was coming. Something bigger than contracts or broomsticks or bloodlines.

And this time?

No amount of strategy would be enough.