~ chapter six: talons and tea leaves ~
When Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing we saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As we passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning it and there was a roar of laughter.
"This. Git," I got out through grit teeth.
"Remember, Y/N, ignore him," said Hermione as she reached for my shoulder to squeeze it. "Just ignore him, it's not worth it. . . ."
"Hey, Potter, Black!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with a face like a pug. "Potter, Black! The dementors are coming!" She then did a ridiculous attempt at what a ghost would sound like. What a four-year-old would assume a ghost would sound like, anyway.
Harry and I dropped into seats at the Gryffindor table, Harry next to George Weasley and me next to Harry.
"New third-year course schedules," said George, passing them over. "What's up with you both?"
"Malfoy," said Ron grimly, sitting down on George's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table.
George looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again.
"That little git," he said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our important, didn't he, Fred?"
"Nearly wet himself," agreed Fred, glancing back at Malfoy.
"I wasn't too happy myself," said George. "They're horrible things, those dementors. . . . "
"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred.
"You didn't pass out, though, right?" said Harry in a low voice.
"Forget it, Harry," said George bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking. . . . They suck the happiness out of a place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."
"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"
I actually cheered up at this. The last time Harry and I had faced Malfoy in a Quidditch match, Malfoy had definitely come off worse. "Sausages?" I asked him.
"Why not?" Harry shrugged, looking slightly more cheerful.
Hermione was examining her new schedule.
"Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," she said happily.
"Hermione," said Ron, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, "they've messed up your schedule. Look—they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough time."
"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."
"But look," said Ron, laughing, "see this morning? Nine o' clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o' clock, Muggle Studies. And"—Ron leaned closer to the schedule, disbelieving—"look—underneath that, Arithmancy, none o' clock. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"
"Don't be silly," said Hermione shortly. "Of course I won't be in three classes at once."
"Well, then—"
"Pass the marmalade," said Hermione.
"But—"
"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my schedule's a bit full?" Hermione snapped. "I told you, I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."
Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absentmindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand.
"All righ'?" he said eagerly, passing on the way to the staff table. "Yer in my firs' ever lesson! Right after lunch. Bin up since five gettin' everythin' ready. . . . Hope it's okay. . . . Me, a teacher . . . hones'ly. . . ."
"Do we have Care of Magical Creatures with the Hufflepuffs?" Harry suddenly asked. Ron, Hermione and I sent him confused looks, but he was too busy staring intensely at Hagrid to respond.
Hagrid sent him a confused look. "Er. . . . No, Harry, with the Slytherins . . . . Yeh sure yer okay? Maybe yeh'd better take a day off . . ."
"No, no, I'm fine, Hagrid," Harry denied, shaking his head. "Just a simple question."
Hagrid stared at him for a little while more before he headed off to the staff table, still swinging the polecat.
"Wonder what he's been getting ready?" said Ron, a note if anxiety in his voice.
The gawk was starting to empty as people headed off toward their first lesson. Ron checked his course schedule.
"We'd better go, look, Divination's at the top of North Tower. It'll take us ten minutes to get there. . . ."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
They finished their breakfasts hastily, said good-bye to Fred and George, and walked back through the hall. As they passed the Slytherin table, Malfoy did yet another impression of a fainting fit. The shouts of laughter followed Y/N into the entrance hall.
The journey through the castle to North Tower was a long one. Two years at Hogwarts hadn't taught them everything about the castle, and they had never been inside North Tower before.
"There's—got—to—be—a—shortcut," Ron panted as they climbed their seventh long staircase and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall.
"I think it's this way," said Hermione as she peered down the empty passage to the right.
"Can't be," said Y/N. "That's south, look, there's a little bit of the lake right there. . . ."
She glanced at Harry, who was watching the painting. A fat, dapple-gray pony had just ambled onto the grass and was grazing nonchalantly. She was used to the subjects of Hogwarts paintings moving around and leaving their frames to visit one another, but she always enjoyed watching it. A moment later, a short, squat knight in a suit of armor clanked into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he had just fallen off.
"Aha!" he yelled, seeing her, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, your knaves, your dogs!"
They watched in astonishment as the little knight tugged his sword out of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hopping up and down in rage. But the sword was too long for him; a particularly wild swing made him overbalance, and he landed face-down in the grass.
"Are you all right?" she asked tentatively, moving closer to the picture.
"Get back, you scurvy boggart! Back, you rogue!"
"Lay off her, alright?" Harry snapped, moving closer to the picture as well.
The knight seized the sword again and used it to push himself back up, but the blade sank deeply into the grass and, though he puled with all his might, he couldn't get it out again. Finally, he had to flop back down onto the grass and push up his visor to mop his sweating face.
"Listen," said Y/N, taking advantage of the knight's exhaustion, "we're looking for the North Tower. You don't know the way, do you?"
"A quest!" The knight's rage seemed to vanish instantly. He clanked to his feet and shouted, "Come follow me, dear riders, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!"
He gave the sword another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the fat pony, gave up, and cried, "On foot then, good sirs and gentle ladies! On! On!"
And he ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of sight.
They hurried after him along the corridor, following the sound of his armor. Every now and then they spotted him running through a picture ahead.
"Be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come!" yelled the knight, and they say him reappear in front of an alarmed group of women in crinolines, whose picture hung on the wall of a narrow spiral staircase.
Puffing loudly, Y/N, Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed the tightly spiraling steps, getting dizzier and dizzier, until at last they heard the murmur of voices above them and knew they had reached the classroom.
"Farewell!" cried the knight, popping his head into a painting of some sinister-looking monks. "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"
"Yeah, we'll call you," muttered Ron as the knight disappeared, "if we ever need someone mental."
They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this landing, but Ron nudged Y/N and pointed to a ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.
"'Sibyll Trelawney, Divination teacher,'" Y/N read. "How're we supposed to get up there?"
As though in answer to his question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Y/N's feet. Everyone got quiet.
"Ladies first," said Harry, grinning, so Y/N climbed the ladder first.
She emerged into the strangest-looking classroom she had ever seen. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystals balls, and a huge array of tea cups.
"This is . . . interesting," Harry murmured as he climbed in and appeared at her shoulder.
Ron appeared at her other shoulder as the class assembled around them, all talking in whispers. "Where is she?" he inquired.
A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice.
"Welcome," it said. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."
Y/N's immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified ger eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted in bangles and rings.
"Sit, my children, sit," she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Y/N, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat themselves around the same round table.
"Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney, who had seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."
'Clouds the Inner Eye. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.'
Nobody said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field. . . ."
At these words, Y/N, Harry, and Ron glanced, grinning, at Hermione, who looked startled at the news that books wouldn't be much help in this subject.
"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearing, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. "It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," she said suddenly to Neville, who almost toppled off his pouf. "Is your grandmother well?"
"I think so," said Neville tremulously.
"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," said Professor Trelawney, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulped. Professor Trelawney continued placidly. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, "beware a red-haired man."
Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her, and edged her chair away from him.
"In the second term," Professor Trelawney went on, "we shall progress to the crystal ball—if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of the flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever."
A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it.
"I wonder, dear," she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, "if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"
Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the tale in front of Professor Trelawney.
"Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading—it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October."
Lavender trembled.
"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs, perhaps groups of three if you must. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear"—she caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up—"after you've broken your first cut, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue-patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."
Y/N and Harry looked at each other for a moment before they shrugged and went to fill up their teacups. When Y/N, Harry, and Ron had had their teacups filled, they went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly. They swilled the dregs around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped them.
"Right," said Ron as the three of them opened their books at pages five and six. "What can you see in mine?"
"A load of soggy brown stuff," said Y/N. The heavily perfumed smoke in the room was making her feel sleepy and stupid.
"Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Professor Trelawney cried through the gloom.
Trying to pull herself together, she consulted Ron's cup and the book. "Right, you're got a crooked sort of cross . . . that means you're going to have 'trials and suffering'—sorry about that—"
"—but there's a thing that could be the sun . . ." Harry interjected, also consulting the book, "hang on . . . that means 'great happiness' . . . so you're going to suffer but be very happy. . . ."
"You both need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me,": said Ron, and the three of them had to stifle their laughs as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction.
"My turn . . ." Ron peered into Y/N's teacup, then Harry's, his forehead wrinkled with effort. "In both of yours, there's a blob a bit like a bowler hat," he said. "Maybe the both of you are going to work for the Ministry of Magic. . . ."
He turned the teacups the other way up.
"But this way it looks more like an acorn. . . . What's that?" He scanned his copy of Unfogging the Future. "'A windfall, unexpected gold.' Excellent, you both can lend me some . . . and there's a thing here," he turned the cups again, "that looks like an animal . . . yeah, if that was its head , , , it looks like a hippo . . . no, a sheep . . ."
Professor Trelawney whirled around as Y/N let out a snort of laughter.
"Let me see them, my dear," she said reprovingly to Ron, sweeping over and snatching both of their cups from him. Everyone went quiet to watch.
Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacups, rotating them counterclockwise.
"The falcon . . . my dears, you both have a deadly enemy."
"But everyone knows that," said Hermione in a loud whisper. Professor Trelawney stared at her.
"Well, they do," said Hermione. "Everybody knows about Harry, Y/N, and You-Know-Who."
Y/N, Harry, and Ron stared at her with a mixture of amazement and admiration. They had never heard Hermione speak to a teacher like that before. Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to their cups again and continued to turn them.
"The club . . . an attack. Dear, dear, these are not happy cups. . . ."
"I thought they were bowler hats," said Ron sheepishly.
"The skull . . . a danger in your paths, my dears. . . ."
Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cups a final turn, gasped, and then screamed.
There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.
'Okay, what could be so bad?'
"My dear children . . . my poor, dear children . . . no . . . it is kinder not to say . . . no . . . don't ask me. . . ."
"What is it, Professor?" said Dean Thomas at once. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around their table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Y/N and Harry's cups.
"My dears," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you have the Grim."
'The Grim? What in the Ebony Darkness Dementia Raven Way is the Grim?'
She wasn't the only one who seemed to have the same reaction; Harry and Dean shrugged at her, and Lavender Brown looked puzzled, but nearly everyone else clapped their hands to there mouths in horror.
"The Grim, my dears, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that the two of them hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear children, it is an omen—the worst omen—of death!"
Y/N's stomach lurched. That dog on the cover of Death Omens in Flourish and Blotts—the dog in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent . . . Lavender Brown clapped her hands to her mouth too. Everyone was looking at the two of them now, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney's chair.
"I don't think it looks like a Grim," she said flatly.
Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike.
"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."
Seamus Finnigan was inspecting the cups, tilting his head from side to side. "They look like Grims if you do this," he said, with his eyes almost shut, "but they looks more like donkeys from here," he said, leaning to the left.
"When you've all finished deciding whether Y/N and I are going to die or not!" said Harry loudly, taking Y/N by surprise. Now nobody seemed to want to look at her or Harry.
"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice. "Yes . . . please pack away your things . . ."
'Oh, yeah, what an appropriate time to end a lesson,' Y/N thought sarcastically to herself as the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and closed their bags, her double-checking to make sure she hadn't forgotten it so she wouldn't have to go back for it like she had in first year. Sneaking around the castle alone at night and feeling like somebody was watching her had not been a fun experience, and definitely wasn't one she wanted to repeat for a long time. Even Ron was avoiding their eyes.
"Until we meet again," said Professor Trelawney faintly, "fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear"—she pointed at Neville—"you'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up."
Y/N, Harry, Ron, and Hermione descended Professor Trelawney's ladder and the winding staircase in silence, then set off for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson. It took them so long to find her classroom that, early as they had left Divination, they were only just in time.
Harry and Y/N chose seats right next to each other right at the back of the room, feeling as though they were sitting in a very bright spotlight; the rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at them, as though they were about to drop dead at any moment, making Harry clench his fists and teeth and glare back at them with Y/N not really knowing why. She hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling them about Animagi (wizards who could transform at will into animals), and wasn't even watching when she transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.
"Really, what has got into you all today?" said Professor McGonagall, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at them all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."
Everybody's heads turned toward Y/N and Harry again, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand.
"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and—"
"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"
Everyone stared at her.
"Us," said Harry, finally.
Professor McGonagall didn't need to ask who 'us' were.
"I see," she said, fixing Harry and Y/N with her beady eyes. "Then you should know, Potter and"—she gulped before saying Y/N's last name, making the girl raise an eyebrow ever so slightly—"Black, that Sibyll Trelawney has predicted the death of at least one student year since she arrived at this school. None of them have died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting s new class, and if it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues, I would—"
Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, more calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney—"
She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You both look in excellent health to me, so you will excuse me if I don't let both of you off homework today. I assure you that if you both die, you need not hand it in."
Hermione laughed. Y/N felt a bit better. It was harder to feel scared of a lump of tea leaves now that she was away from the dim red light and befuddling perfume of Professor Trelawney's classroom. Not everyone was convinced, however. Ron still looked worried. She also heard Lavender whisper, "But what about Neville's cup?"
When the Transfiguration class had finished, they joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch.
"Ron, cheer up," said Hermione, pushing a dish of stew toward him. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said."
Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his form but didn't start.
"Harry, Y/N," he said in a low, serious voice, "you haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"
"Yeah, we have," said Harry. "The night we left the Dursleys'."
Ron let his fork fall with a clatter.
"Probably just a stray," said Hermione calmly.
Ron looked at Hermione as though she had gone mad.
"Hermione, if they've both seen a Grim, that's—that's bad," he said. "My—my uncle Bilius saw one and—and he died twenty-four hours later!"
"Coincidence," said Hermione airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.
"You don't know what you're talking about!" said Ron, starting to get angry. "Grim scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"
"There you are, then," said Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Y/N and Harry are still with us because they're not stupid enough to see one and think, 'right, well, we'd better kick the bucket then!'"
Ron mouthed wordlessly at Hermione, who opened her bag, took out her new Arithmancy book, and propped it open against the ice jug.
"I think Divination seems very woolly," she said, searching for her page. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me."
"There was nothing woolly about the Grim in those cups!" said Ron loudly.
"You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling them both they were sheep," said Hermione coolly.
"Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You just don't like being bad at something for a change!"
He had touched a nerve. Hermione slammed her Arithmancy book down on the table so hard that bits of meat and carrot flew everywhere.
"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it for much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!"
She snatched up her bag and stalked away.
Ron frowned after her.
"What's she talking about?" he said to Harry and Y/N. "She hasn't been to an Arithmancy class yet."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I think it's safe to say that I was pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. Yesterday's rain had clear; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was stringy and damp underfoot as we set off for our first ever Care of Magical Creatures class.
Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other. Meaning Y/N and I were walking in awkward silence beside them as we went down the sloping lawns to get to Hagrid's class.
"C'mon, get a move on!" Hagrid called to us. "Got a real treat for yeh. Great lesson comin' up. Follow me!"
"Wonder what Hagrid's going to be teaching us first," Y/N muttered in my ear.
"Knowing him, it's probably going to be something . . . interesting, to say the least," I whispered back. Hagrid meant well, really, he did, but he very clearly viewed the definition of 'dangerous' very differently than we did.
For a moment, I thought he was leading us into the Forbidden Forest; I'd had enough unpleasant experiences in there to last for a lifetime. Luckily, he led us over to a paddock near the edge of the Forbidden Forest near his hut, but there wasn't anything in the paddock.
"Gather 'round. That's it. Find yerself a spot," Hagrid instructed. "That's it. Now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books—"
"And exactly how do we do that?" Draco scoffed as he looked at his book and then back at Hagrid.
"Yeh just stroke the spine, of course," Hagrid said in disbelief, as if this were a very normal way to open a book.
"Stroke the spine?" Y/N muttered as she looked at her book. "Really? That's how you open it?" She shrugged. "Huh."
Behind us, we heard the chomping of the book and Neville's cries and a "Don't be such a wimp, Longbottom" from Malfoy himself. When we stopped, Hermione said stubbornly, "I think they're funny."
"Oh, yeah, terribly funny."
'Ugh, I think I might need to bleach my eardrums.'
Ron, Hermione, Y/N and I turned around (her and I dropping our bags to the ground) as Malfoy droned on, "God, this place has gone to the dogs. Wait till Father hears that Dumbledore's got this oaf teaching classes."
"Shut up, Malfoy," Y/N said quietly as she headed toward Malfoy.
'Damn, okay, that was hot.'
'No. Focus, Harry!'
And as Malfoy walked toward us, I could only think that he was up to something, because he was biting his lip and smirking at us as if he were about to do something he'd think would be tremendously funny.
Suddenly, he looked very scared, as if he'd just seen something horrifying, and jumped while pointing behind us. "Dementor! Dementor!"
'Dementor?'
Out of instinct—okay, I'm lying, I just wanted to—I grabbed Y/N's hand as we both spun around, along with the rest of the Gryffindors . . . only to see nothing there while the Slytherins burst into laughter. As we looked back over at Malfoy, he and his stupid little friends lifted up their stupid little hoods and made stupid little gestures with their GODDAMN FINGERS I WAS GOING TO BREAK OFF THEIR FUCKING HANDS IF THEY KEPT DOING THAT—
Okay. Did I lose my temper that time? I'm sorry. It probably will happen again.
Before I could even take a step towards Malfoy—or before Y/N could, for that matter—Hermione grabbed the sleeves of our robes and turned us away.
'No, wait—I still need to beat the living shit out of Malfoy. Let go of me, 'Mione.'
"You're supposed to stroke it, Neville," Ron informed him with a smile.
Hagrid coughed to get everyone's attention before he 'da-da-da-da'd a fanfare, showcasing...something. That's the best way I can describe it. Something.
"Isn't he beautiful?"
Sure, Hagrid. Sure.
"Say hello to Buckbeak!"
'Buckbeak,' I guess, slurped down something . . . that I didn't want to know what it was.
"Hagrid . . ." Ron stuttered. "Exactly what is that?"
"That, Ron, is a hippogriff. First thing to know about hippogriffs is that they are very proud creatures. Very easily offended. You do not want to insult the hippogriff. It may just be the last thing you ever do."
Greeeeeaaaaaaaaatttt.
"Now!" Hagrid clapped. "Who'd like to come and say hello?"
There was a pause. I thought Hagrid would just pick at random, because that was what my primary school teachers used to do. Pick a stick, and whoever's name was on that stick would have to volunteer. But nope!
"Well done, Harry and Y/N! Well done!" Hagrid congratulated us.
Y/N and I gave a start, looked at each other, confused, and then looked behind us, side to side.
"Well . . ." Y/N gulped. "Suppose we're . . . volunteering . . ."
Someone reached forward and shoved us toward Buckbeak and Hagrid.
"Ron!" Y/N snapped quietly as she was pushed forward.
"Now, you have to let him make the first move. It's only polite," Hagrid informed. "So, step up, give him a nice bow . . . then you wait and see if he bows back. If he does, then you two can go up and touch him."
'And . . . if he doesn't?'
"A . . . bow," I repeated to make sure I had heard him correctly.
"Harry, be quiet for a moment!"
"What do you—I was only checking!"
"Well, check later!"
"How can I check later?"
"You two, make your bows, nice and low . . ."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Y/N, not seeing a way out, decided to go for it. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips in concentration. After one last look at Harry, they both looked at the hippogriff and then bowed, their hands on the ground as they maintained eye contact. Y/N could hear the blood pumping in her ears as there was something like a squawk blared in her ears.
Then, Hagrid, sounding concerned, said, "Back off, you both, back off . . ."
Y/N took a step back, but stepped on a twig. Her heart gave a jump, but she still looked at it, keeping as still as she possibly could. 'Please let Harry be doing the same,' she pleaded internally.
Buckbeak seemed to have calmed down, because he bowed back.
Hagrid chuckled. "Oh, well done, Y/N, Harry. Well done."
The two of them straightened up, letting out sighs of relief. Hagrid tossed something to Buckbeak. Y/N and Harry looked at each other and smiled relievedly.
"Well," Harry said, "we've survived."
"Looks like it," said Y/N. Her cheeks felt hot and she felt her heart race as she stared into the eyes of her best friend—and crush—him staring back at her with that same intensity . . . he took a step toward her. She took a step toward him.
Step toward her.
Step toward him.
This continued until they were way too close to be simply read as platonic. Harry reached out and grasped her hand gently as she intertwined their fingers. She could have sworn she heard, "Ooh, Ron, look!" from Hermione, but didn't want to ruin whatever . . . this was by glaring at her.
Hagrid cleared his throat. "Well, you both can go and pat him now."
Y/N, blushing furiously, let go, stepped away from Harry, mumbled a "Sorry", and went to go pat Buckbeak, her head down. 'Stupid Harry, stupid hot smirk, stupid hotness, stupid hot messy hair, stupid glasses, stupid . . . whatever!' she chastised herself. What had she been thinking? What would have happened if Hagrid hadn't interrupted them? One part of her was glad that he had interrupted, but one part of her was . . . strangely upset, and she didn't quite know why.
When she and Harry had managed to pet Buckbeak ('He's so soft,' thought Y/N as she glanced behind her then back at Buckbeak, grinning), Hagrid went up to them. "I think he may let you both ride him now!"
Harry and Y/N looked at each other, then glanced at Hagrid, both of them no longer smiling. "What?" said Harry.
"I'm sorry, did I hear you correctly?" said Y/N.
"C'mon, you both." Hagrid went over and picked both of them up.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!" Y/N and Harry both let out sounds of reluctance as Hagrid put Y/N on first, then Harry behind her.
"Hagrid, I don't think this is necessary," Y/N said nervously as she grabbed the scuff of Buckbeak's neck.
"So could you please put us down?" Harry said politely as he wrapped his arms around Y/N's waist. Y/N's cheeks heated up as she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before she opened them again, thankful Harry couldn't see her.
"Nonsense, Y/N, yer gonna be fine," Hagrid said nonchalantly. "Besides, yeh got each other. Now, c'mon, Buckbeak!" He slapped the hindquarters of the hippogriff, making Buckbeak start sprinting off. Y/N squeezed the scuff tighter, staring straight ahead before the hippogriff took off, soaring into the air.
She then found out that flying on a hippogriff wasn't as scary as it seemed to be. As she admired the scenery from below them as Buckbeak flew above Hogwarts, the wind blew through her hair like that scene in a cheesy romance movie—the ones that Petunia watched. She wanted to look behind Harry to see how he was faring, but didn't.
As Buckbeak headed to the lake, Harry then yelled to be heard over the beating of Buckbeak's wings, "Y/N, let go!"
"Let go?" Y/N looked behind her in disbelief, only to see Harry not holding onto her waist anymore, his arms instead out in the air.
He nodded and held his arms out in a carefree motion. "Just do it!"
Y/N looked back in front of her, shaking her head as she slowly let go. 'I swear, Harry, I'm haunting you if I die . . .'
But . . . it was genuinely fun. A laugh bubbled from her throat as she spread her arms out in the same carefree motion. "Woohoo!" she yelled over the wingbeat of Buckbeak.
It felt so . . . safe with Harry. The two of them glanced at each other, smiling as bright red dusted across their cheeks. Y/N felt like her heart would jump out of her chest with how fast it was beating. 'That wouldn't be a bad way to go. . . .'
As Buckbeak soared into the air again, Y/N grabbed onto the scuff of Buckbeak's neck again, still smiling with that stupid grin on her face. She hoped that she'd get more moments like this with Harry . . . just the two of them . . . alone . . .
'No!' She would have slapped herself in the face, but she didn't want to lose her grip. Besides, she liked this.
Hagrid called Buckbeak down with a sharp whistle. When the hippogriff landed, he sprinted over, slowing to a gallop, then trot, then stopped.
"Well done, Y/N, Harry!" Hagrid congratulated. "And well done, Buckbeak!" He went over to help them down. "How am I doing me first day?" he whispered.
"Brilliant, Professor," Harry said jokingly.
Y/N looked over to Malfoy, who had pushed two students aside as he strode past them. She nudged Harry, who looked over and rolled his eyes, scoffing.
"Yes, you're not dangerous at all, are you?" Malfoy scoffed, sauntering up to Buckbeak. "You great ugly brute."
That seemed to be the last straw for Buckbeak. The animal reared up on his hind legs, making students scream and scatter. Malfoy, whimpering, held up an arm to protect himself. The animal came down on him, scratching his robe sleeve.
Y/N's eyes widened as she and Harry backed up. Hagrid rushed up, trying to calm Buckbeak before throwing him yet another snack.
"It's killed me! It's killed me!" Malfoy whimpered, rolling around on the ground as he grabbed his arm in pain. Y/N felt sort of bad for him . . . but at the same time didn't. Did that make her a horrible person?
"C-calm down," Hagrid tried, obviously also very shocked, "it's just a scratch—"
Hermione came up to him, concerned. "Hagrid!" she said urgently. "He has to be taken to the hospital."
Hagrid nodded. "I'm the teacher, I'll do it," he replied, and picked Malfoy, who was still whimpering, off of the ground.
As Hagrid carried him away, dismissing the class as he went, she could hear Malfoy say one more thing: "You're gonna regret this! You and your bloody chicken!"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
damn, i'm rusty with my writing skills. anyways, here's another chapter of 'twisted.' i'm sorry i didn't get this chapter out earlier. i intended to get this chapter out before Christmas, but yeah . . . i couldnt due to some personal stuff.
i have another book on my page called "house rivalries" and it is a Slytherin Harry x male reader book. that book is my first male reader book, so I'm just experimenting with that. if you could also read that and show the same amount of love you're showing for this book, that would be greatly appreciated.
here's what i'm thinking is going to happen: i'll finish up another chapter of this book and then i'll finish up the chapter i'm working on in "house rivalries". then i'll go back to this book, and then so on.
once again, PLEASE go give "house rivalries" a read. i think it's coming along good so far. I'll see you all in another chapter.