Bedknobs and Broomsticks [HP fanfic; BNB Book 1]

In the Shack; June 1994

Geoff couldn't help but feel that Dumbledore was taking this awfully well. As they walked across the sloping grounds toward the gamekeeper's hut with the Minister of Magic, an old committee member, and an executioner wielding a hefty axe, the headmaster's expression was exceptionally serene. Beneath his silver beard, Geoff would swear that Dumbledore was actually smiling.

When Hagrid opened the door of his hut, his face was splotchy and red, and his voice cracked as he invited them inside.

"Cuppa tea?" Hagrid asked, wiping his nose with a large spotted handkerchief.

"No, thank you, Hagrid," Fudge said, pulling a roll of parchment and spreading it out on the table. "I think it's best if we get down to business."

Hagrid seated himself between Fudge and the committee member as the wizened old man began to read the parchment, outlining Buckbeak's sentencing. They had to stop several times to allow the half-giant to regain his composure.

"And now, if everyone will sign as witnesses?" the committee member said. "Yes... good... and Professor Mansfield, if you will accompany us outside to inspect the hippogriff?"

Geoff gave a short nod, and the group of men stood and walked outside, Fang whimpering as Hagrid blubbered for him to stay inside. As Hagrid stepped outside the back door, he nearly sent Fudge flying into the committee member and Geoff. The group had stopped short, staring at the spot in Hagrid's garden where the hippogriff had been tied mere minutes before.

"Where is it?" asked the committee member. "Where is the beast?"

"It was tied here!" said the executioner furiously. "I saw it! Just here!"

"How extraordinary," said Dumbledore. There was a note of amusement in his voice that Geoff did not miss as he heaved his own sigh of relief.

"Beaky!" said Hagrid huskily as the executioner swung his axe at the fence. "Gone! Gone! Bless his little beak, he's gone! Musta pulled himself free! Beaky, yeh clever boy!"

"Someone untied him!" the executioner said, wrenching his axe free from the fence. "We should search the grounds, the forest."

"Macnair, if Buckbeak has indeed been stolen, do you really think the thief will have led him away on foot?" said Dumbledore. Now Geoff was sure the old man had been smiling; somehow, he had known the hippogriff would escape. "Search the skies, if you will.... Hagrid, I could do with a cup of tea. Or a large brandy."

"I think I'll join you for that brandy," Geoff said, and the committee member agreed, following Hagrid and the headmaster back into the gamekeeper's hut, leaving Fudge and Macnair gaping around the garden after the missing hippogriff.

A quick search of the cupboards revealed a shortage of brandy, and Dumbledore volunteered his own personal stores of elf-made wine. In the dying light of the evening, they made their way back across the grounds toward the castle, Dumbledore leading the group at a surprisingly brisk pace despite his age, the old committee member keeping equal pace, apparently encouraged by the promise of elfin wine.

A commotion near the edge of the Forbidden Forest caught Geoff's eye, and for a moment he thought it was the hippogriff. "I'll catch up," he called, but nobody seemed to hear him over the cacophonous singing that Hagrid had taken up in his exuberance.

He hurried over to the treeline, and finally the silhouette of the Whomping Willow came into focus in the rapidly growing darkness, and he heard Harry, Ron, and Hermione shouting over some sort of snarling animal.

He froze, the color draining from his face. Remus.

A cat leapt onto the trunk of the Willow, and the tree's thrashing came to a sudden halt. The sight of one of the boys being dragged under the tree's roots by a large dog, the other two following close behind, spurred Geoff back into motion. Within seconds, he was at the tree, but wasn't fast enough -- whatever the cat had done to it had worn off, and its branches were back in motion, swinging wildly.