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┄┄ .•* 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟑 *•. ┄┄
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒔!
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Not a single soul, except Hermione, slept that night in Gryffindor Tower.
The sleeping girl, Harry, Ron, the twins, Lee Jordan, Ginny, and a few others had spent the whole night away in the common room. And as the rest of the group talked on and on about the recent events, Hermione fell asleep with her head on Harry's lap and legs on Fred's.
Professor McGonagall came back to the Tower at dawn to tell them that Sirius had again escaped—not that Hermione heard (or needed to hear) anything.
Throughout the day, Hermione started to notice—much to her annoyance—the signs of tighter security; Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes. Sir Cadogan had been fired. His portrait had been taken back to its lonely landing on the seventh floor, and the Fat Lady was back.
Much to Hermione's nuisance, Ron had become an instant celebrity. Nuisance not because of jealousy, no that wasn't it. But because she had to endure Ron talking about what happened to him multiple times throughout the day and with each time another point was added to make it even more dramatic.
". . . .I was asleep, and I heard this ripping noise, and I thought it was in my dream, you know? But then there was this draft. . . . I woke up and one side of the hangings on my bed had been pulled down. . . . I rolled over. . . . and I saw him standing over me. . . . like a skeleton, with loads of filthy hair—"
Hermione grimaced at this. How could Sirius fuckin' Black have bad hair? It was outrageous!
"—holding this great long knife, must've been twelve inches... and he looked at me, and I looked at him, and then I yelled, and he scampered."
"Then Ron wet his pants and came down to the common room shrieking," Hermione added to the group of second-year girls who grimaced at Ron and went away.
Ron glared at Hermione.
"Why, though?" Ron added—ignoring the curly-haired witch—to Harry "Why did he run?"
"He must've known he'd have a job getting back out of the castle once you'd yelled and woken people up," said Harry thoughtfully. "He'd've had to kill the whole house to get back through the portrait hole. . . . then he would've met the teachers. . . ."
"Or maybe he went deaf by Ron's shrieking and couldn't take it anymore," Hermione added.
Ron glared at her and she put her hands up in surrender, "I'm sorry, Ronald. I won't make more fun of your vocals."
Neville was in total disgrace. Professor McGonagall was so furious with him she had banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits, given him a detention, but, fortunately (due to Hermione) he could still know the house's password. However, Hermione couldn't stop what came two days after Black's break-in from his grandma, she sent Neville the very worst thing a Hogwarts student could receive over breakfast—a Howler.
"Run for it, Neville," Ron advised.
Neville didn't need telling twice. He seized the envelope, and holding it before him like a bomb, sprinted out of the hall, while the Slytherin table exploded with laughter at the sight of him. They heard the Howler go off in the entrance hall—Neville's grandmother's voice, magically magnified to a hundred times its usual volume, shrieking about how he had brought shame on the whole family.
A large group of people was bunched around the bulletin board when they returned to the common room after dinner.
"Hogsmeade, next weekend!" said Ron, craning over the heads to read the new notice. "What d'you reckon?" he added quietly to Harry as the three went to sit down.
"Well, Filch hasn't done anything about the passage into Honeydukes. . . ." Harry said, even more quietly.
"I say go for it," Hermione shrugged. "It can't be worse than the last time."
"Okay," Harry said. "But I'm taking the Invisibility Cloak this time."
On Saturday morning, Hermione forced Ron to go with her to Hogsmeade. This way they would be able to make peace with each other; Hermione was getting tired of all the glaring and bickering and. . . . Blah.
"Look, Ronald," Hermione started looking at the ginger. "I know you miss the rat and have this weird murdery thing with Crooks. But you have to understand, I didn't set my cat out on your rat. You know my and Crooks's policy. He stays to himself, I stay to myself," Hermione said as she pointed to herself and waved her hands in the air.
"As simple as that. Sometimes I can put him in order but I cannot control his natural instincts. So, you have to cut it out and stop glaring at me like I'm the one who killed the rat. I'm your friend and I'd like to continue as such," she told him fiercely.
Being too much of a Gryffindor and trying to keep his pride, Ron, only shrugged his shoulders—his ears going slightly red—and looked at the music store they went to last time.
"Let's go there!"
He pointed at the shop and Hermione laughed, looped her arm through his, leading them to the music store.
"Let's go!"
"I don't get you anymore," Ron said with a frown as they got out of the music store—empty-handed because none of them had anything to listen to the music with. "You're so different. For starters, you don't even like books anymore."
"I'm a new person, Ronald," Hermione announced with a proud grin. "I discovered that life is so much more than books and that I'm smart despite studying or not. Hence why I opened my eyes to life. No more useless books with too much information. No more extra hours studying when I could be reading magazines or riding my broom. No more!"
All throughout this speech, Hermione was flailing her arms around dramatically—making Ron laugh—as they went in the direction of Honeydukes, only to be prodded in the back by an invisible being.
"It's me," Harry muttered.
"What kept you?" Ron hissed as Hermione laughed.
"Snape was hanging around."
They set off up the High Street.
"Where are you?" Ron kept muttering out of the corner of his mouth. "Are you still there? This feels weird. . . ."
"Shush Ronald," Hermione laughed. People will think you're insane."
They went to the post office; then they visited Zonko's. There were jokes and tricks to fulfill even Fred's and George's wildest dreams; Harry gave Ron and Hermione whispered orders and passed them some gold from under the cloak. They left Zonko's with their money bags considerably lighter than they had been on entering, but their pockets bulging with Dungbombs, Hiccup Sweets, Frog Spawn Soap, and a Nose-Biting Teacup apiece.
The day was fine and breezy, and neither of them felt like staying indoors, so they walked past the Three Broomsticks and climbed a slope to visit the Shrieking Shack, the most haunted dwelling in Britain. It stood a little way above the rest of the village, and even in daylight was slightly creepy, with its boarded windows and dank overgrown garden.
"Even the Hogwarts ghosts avoid it," said Ron as they leaned on the fence, looking up at it. "I asked Nearly Headless Nick. . . . he says he's heard a very rough crowd lives here. No one can get in. Fred and George tried, obviously, but all the entrances are sealed shut. . . ."
"Maybe there's a creature in there and someone closed him off," Hermione shrugged grinning knowingly.
Suddenly they heard voices nearby. Someone was climbing toward the house from the other side of the hill; moments later, Malfoy had appeared, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy was speaking.
". . . . should have an owl from Father any time now. He had to go to the hearing to tell them about my arm. . . . about how I couldn't use it for three months. . . ." Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. "I really wish I could hear that great hairy moron trying to defend himself. . . . 'There's no 'arm in 'im, 'onest—'... That Hippogriff's as good as dead—"
Malfoy suddenly caught sight of Ron and Hermione. His pale face split in a malevolent grin.
"What are you doing, Weasley?"
Completely ignoring Hermione, Malfoy looked up at the crumbling house behind Ron.
"Suppose you'd love to live here, wouldn't you, Weasley? Dreaming about having your own bedroom? I heard your family all sleep in one room—is that true?"
"Can it, Malloy," Hermione said glaring at him, "Their house is much more of a home than your big fancy manor could be. What do you do all day? Stay in your room obsessing with Harry Potter?"
"Watch it, mudblood!"
Hermione only shook her head in amusement, Harry, however, seized the back of Ron's robes to stop him from leaping on Malfoy.
"Leave him to me," he hissed in Ron's ear.
"We were just discussing your friend Hagrid," Malfoy said to Ron and Hermione. "Just trying to imagine what he's saying to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. D'you think he'll cry when they cut off his Hippogriff's—"
SPLAT!
Malfoy's head jerked forward as the mud hit him; his silver blond hair was suddenly dripping in muck.
"What the—?"
Ron had to hold onto the fence to keep himself standing, he was laughing so hard. Hermione was holding on to Ron's shoulder, also laughing her arseoff—after having taken a picture.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle spun stupidly on the spot, staring wildly around, Malfoy trying to wipe his hair clean.
"What was that? Who did that?"
"Very haunted up here, isn't it?" said Ron, with the air of one commenting on the weather.
Crabbe and Goyle were looking scared. Their bulging muscles were no use against ghosts. Malfoy was staring madly around at the deserted landscape.
SPLATTER!
Crabbe and Goyle caught some this time. Goyle hopped furiously on the spot, trying to rub it out of his small, dull eyes.
"It came from over there!" said Malfoy, wiping his face, and staring at a spot some six feet to the left of Harry.
Crabbe blundered forward, his long arms outstretched like a zombie. Harry dodged around him, picked up a stick, and lobbed it at Crabbe's back. Harry doubled up with silent laughter as Crabbe did a kind of pirouette in midair, trying to see who had thrown it. As Ron was the only person Crabbe could see, it was Ron he started toward, but Harry stuck out his leg. Crabbe stumbled—and his huge, flat foot caught the hem of Harry's cloak. Harry felt a great tug, then the cloak slid off his face.
For a split second, Malfoy stared at him.
"AAARGH!" he yelled, pointing at Harry's head. Then he turned tail and ran, at breakneck speed, back down the hill, Crabbe, and Goyle behind him.
Hermione watched as Harry tugged the cloak up again, but the damage was done.
"Harry!" Ron said, stumbling forward and staring hopelessly at the point where Harry had disappeared, "you'd better run for it! If Malfoy tells anyone—you'd better get back to the castle, quick—"
"See you later," said Harry, and without another word, he tore back down the path toward Hogsmeade. Leaving Ron and Hermione behind.
The two of them immediately made a dash for the castle in order to save Harry's arse if (which Hermione knew would happen) he was caught by Snape.
They ran for their lives until they got to Snape's office where they heard Lupin talk, "You see, Severus?" said Lupin, turning back to Snape. "It looks like a Zonko product to me—"
Right on cue, they burst into the office, completely out of breath—Hermione had never run so much in her whole life—clutching their chests trying to speak.
"I—gave—Harry—that—stuff," Ron choked. "Bought— it. . . . in Zonko's. . . . ages—ago. . . ."
"Vouch—I—can. . . . Great—stuff—store— has. . . ." Hermione added, sounding a little bit like Yoda.
"Well!" said Lupin, clapping his hands together and looking around cheerfully. "That seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?"
He folded the map and tucked it inside his robes.
"Harry, Ron, Hermione, come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay—excuse us, Severus—"
Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Lupin walked all the way back into the entrance hall before speaking. Then Harry turned to Lupin.
"Professor, I—"
"I don't want to hear explanations," said Lupin shortly. He glanced around the empty entrance hall and lowered his voice.
"I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it's a map," he said as Harry and Ron looked amazed while Hermione just grinned. "I don't want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, astounded that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying around. And I can't let you have it back, Harry."
Harry had expected that and was too keen for explanations to protest.
"Why did Snape think I'd got it from the manufacturers?"
"Because. . . ." Lupin hesitated, "because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of school. They'd think it extremely entertaining."
"Do you know them?" said Harry, impressed.
"We've met," he said shortly. He was looking at Harry more seriously than ever before.
"No shit," Hermione muttered, and unknowingly to her Remus caught it.
"Er—Don't expect me to cover up for you again, Harry. I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard when the Dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them—gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks."
"That was low, Remy," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes at him, and Remus looked at her weirdly.
"I mean Harold was just trying to live out his teenage years," Hermione told him promptly. "I bet the Marauders did that too. And in their time there was an even more dangerous mass murderer on the loose. Hell, they were in the time of war. Personally, I think Mr. Prongs would be proud," Hermione scoffed and she saw Remus's eyes shimmer at the last statement.
"Sirius Black is after Harry, Hermione," Lupin said sternly but Hermione didn't back down—leaving Ron and Harry baffled.
"I'd think Mr. Moony would do good to rethink of older times," Hermione said, much to Ron's and Harry's confusion, and to Remus's shock. "Maybe he'd remember a slimy rat and a rather loyal dog."
Remus gulped.
"Family doesn't define a person. It is their actions. And after everything the Marauders went through, I'd think Mr. Moony would be less daft than he looks. Good day, Sir," Hermione said and she turned around, walking away. Leaving a baffled Lupin behind.
Ron and Harry only send a sheepish grin his way before hurrying after her.
"What the bloody hell was that all about?" Ron asked her.
"I don't know," Hermione said with a shrug. "I pretty much gave a bullshit speech. The first thing that came to mind."
The three turned around the corner in direction of the common room. After they got there an owl came swooping in from the window and let a letter fall in Hermione's lap. She opened it and gasped slightly.
"Hagrid's lost. Beaky will be executed," she told the two curious boys grimly as she passed them the letter.
"They can't do this," said Harry. "They can't. Buckbeak isn't dangerous."
"The Committee was corrupted by Bleached Arsehole Sr," said Hermione, "There'll be an appeal, though. Only I don't think there's much hope. . . . Nothing will change."
"Yeah, it will," said Ron fiercely. "I'll help."
"As much as I like this fierce side of yours," Hermione said nodding in approval, "I don't know if it's going to help."
The safety measures imposed on the students since Black's second break-in made it impossible for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to go and visit Hagrid in the evenings. Their only chance of talking to him was during Care of Magical Creatures lessons.
He seemed numb with shock at the verdict.
"S'all my fault. Got all tongue-tied. They was all sittin' there in black robes an' I kep' droppin' me notes and forgettin' all them dates yeh looked up fer me. An' then Lucius Malfoy stood up an' said his bit, and the Committee jus' did exac'ly what he told 'em. . . ."
"There's still the appeal!" said Ron fiercely. "Don't give up yet, we're working on it!"
They were walking back up to the castle with the rest of the class. Ahead they could see Malfoy, who was walking with Crabbe and Goyle and kept looking back, laughing derisively.
"S'no good, Ron," said Hagrid sadly as they reached the castle steps. "That Committee's in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. I'm jus' gonna make sure the rest o' Beaky's time is the happiest he's ever had. I owe him that. . . ."
Hagrid turned around and hurried back toward his cabin, his face buried in his handkerchief.
"Look at him blubber!" Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had been standing just inside the castle doors, listening.
"Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?" said Malfoy. "And he's supposed to be our teacher!"
Hermione rolled her eyes and before either Harry and Ron could do something she punched Malfoy square in the jaw making him stumble back.
"You're a disgusting little shit, you are. Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic!" she spat as she drew out her wand at him.
Malfoy stepped backward, holding on to his jaw. Crabbe and Goyle looked at him for instructions, thoroughly bewildered.
"C'mon," Malfoy muttered, and in a moment, all three of them had disappeared into the passageway to the dungeons.
"Hermione!" Ron said again, sounding both stunned and impressed.
"Harry beat that ferret's ass in the finals, for fucks sake," Hermione told Harry as she started walking, "the bleached bimbo better not mess with me."
"We're due in Charms," said Ron, still goggling at Hermione along with Harry, "We'd better go."
They hurried up the marble staircase toward Professor Flitwick's classroom. After class, Hermione went into a broom cupboard and turned back in time to go to her Muggle Studies class. Then she met up with the boys as they were going to Divination.
Together they climbed the ladder into the dim, stifling tower room. Glowing on every little table was a crystal ball full of pearly white mist. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down together at the same rickety table.
"I thought we weren't starting crystal balls until next term," Ron muttered, casting a wary eye around for Professor Trelawney, in case she was lurking nearby.
"Don't complain, this means we've finished palmistry," Harry muttered back. "I was getting sick of her flinching every time she looked at my hands."
"Good day to you!" said the familiar, misty voice, and Professor Trelawney made her usual dramatic entrance out of the shadows.
Parvati and Lavender quivered with excitement, their faces lit by the milky glow of their crystal ball and Hermione groaned banging her head against Ron's shoulder, the latter shaking with silent laughter.
"I have decided to introduce the crystal ball a little earlier than I had planned," said Professor Trelawney, sitting with her back to the fire and gazing around. "The fates have informed me that your examination in June will concern the Orb, and I am anxious to give you sufficient practice."
Hermione snorted.
"That's bullshit. She's the one who sets the exams," she said, not troubling to keep her voice low. Harry and Ron choked back laughs.
It was hard to tell whether Professor Trelawney had heard them as her face was hidden in shadow. She continued, however, as though she had not.
"Crystal gazing is a particularly refined art," she said dreamily. "I do not expect any of you to See when first you peer into the Orb's infinite depths. We shall start by practicing relaxing the conscious mind and external eyes—"
Ron began to snigger uncontrollably and had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stifle the noise—
"—so as to clear the Inner Eye and the superconscious. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of you will see before the end of the class."
"Seen anything yet?" Harry asked them after a quarter of an hour's quiet crystal gazing.
"Yeah, there's a burn on this table," said Ron, pointing. "Someone's spilled their candle."
Hermione snorted at that making them all burst into laughter.
"Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shadowy portents within their Orb?" Trelawney murmured over the clinking of her bangles.
"I don't need help," Ron whispered. "It's obvious what this means. There's going to be loads of fog tonight."
Both Harry and Hermione burst out laughing again.
"Now, really!" said Professor Trelawney as everyone's heads turned in their direction. Parvati and Lavender were looking scandalized. "You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!"
She approached their table and peered into their crystal ball. Harry felt his heart sinking. He was sure he knew what was coming—
"There is something here!" Professor Trelawney whispered, lowering her face to the ball so that it was reflected twice in her huge glasses.
"Something moving. . . . but what is it? My dear," Professor Trelawney breathed, gazing up at Harry. "It is here, plainer than ever before. . . . my dear, stalking toward you, growing ever closer. . . . the Gr—"
She wasn't able to finish as Hermione started laughing only to clear her throat to compose herself.
"Honestly, Syby, the Grim? Can't it have any other meaning?" Hermione asked with her head tilted. "Why does a black dog mean Grim? Why doesn't it mean Harry will get a black German Shepperd?"
Ron and Harry were beside themselves trying to control their laughter.
Professor Trelawney raised her enormous eyes to Hermione's face. Parvati whispered something to Lavender, and they both glared at Hermione too. Professor Trelawney stood up, surveying Hermione with unmistakable anger.
"I am sorry to say that from the moment you have arrived in this class my dear, it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane."
There was a moment's silence. Then—
"Mundane?!" Hermione shrieked and everyone around her flinched. "Well, you can go fuck yourself for all I care. I'm leaving. I quit. Hasta la vista!" s
Getting up, cramming Unfogging the Future back into her bag, swinging the bag over her shoulder, and almost knocking Ron off his chair.
"And FYI, believe me," Hermione said glaring at the teacher, "I am not mundane. I'm just too awesome for you to understand."
She scoffed and strode over to the trap door—much to the whole class's amazement—flipping her hair in the process, she climbed down the ladder.
The Easter holidays were not exactly relaxing. The third-years had never had so much homework.
"Call this a holiday!" Seamus Finnigan roared at the common room one afternoon. "The exams are ages away, what're they playing at?"
But nobody had as much to do as Hermione.
Even without Divination, she was taking more subjects than anybody else. The thing was she learned how to save time and hurry and still have time for other stuff. Firstly she would use pens. Then she'd merely do all of her essays quickly and not study.
And that. That worked just fine.
Ron had taken over responsibility for Buckbeak's appeal. When he wasn't doing his own work, he was poring over enormously thick volumes with names like The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology and Fowl or Foul? A Study of Hippogriff Brutality. He was so absorbed, he even forgot to be horrible to Crookshanks.
Harry, meanwhile, had to fit in his homework around Quidditch practice every day, not to mention endless discussions of tactics with Wood. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays.
The whole of Gryffindor House was obsessed with the coming match. Gryffindor hadn't won the Quidditch Cup since the legendary Charlie Weasley had been Seeker.
Never, in anyone's memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. By the time the holidays were over, the tension between the two teams and their Houses was at the breaking point. A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth year and a Slytherin sixth year ended up in the hospital wing with leeks sprouting out of their ears, much to Hermione's amusement.
The night before the match there was a great deal of noise. Fred and George were dealing with the pressure by being louder and more exuberant than ever. Oliver Wood was crouched over a model of a Quidditch field in the corner, prodding little figures across it with his wand and muttering to himself. Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were laughing at Fred's and George's jokes. Harry was sitting with Ron and Hermione, removed from the center of things, trying not to think about the next day.
Hermione had enough.
She stood up at the table and talked loudly, "OI! GRYFFINDOR TEAM!"
They all stopped what they were doing and turned to the curly-haired girl in uniform and leather jacket on top of the table.
"YOU GUYS NEED TO FUCKING TAKE A CHILL PILL! RELAX. WE'RE ON THE LEAD. WE HAVE A GREAT TEAM," Hermione said loudly making sure everyone was listening before taking a deep breath, and, talking normally now, she said, "So, take a deep breath and fucking relax because the Slytherins suck, and Malloy isn't going to catch zilch."
The whole Gryffindor team shut up as they processed her words.
"Well, my job is done!" Hermione grinned, getting off the table.
It came as a relief when Wood suddenly stood up and yelled, "Team! Bed!"
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