Hermione ploughed her way back to Hagrid's cabin through two feet of snow on Sunday morning. Harry and Ron wanted to go with her, but their mountain of homework had reached an alarming height again, so they remained grudgingly in the common room. Being the good friend I was, as always, I remained behind, trying to ignore the gleeful shouts drifting up from the grounds outside, where students were enjoying themselves skating on the frozen lake, tobogganing and, worst of all, bewitching snowballs to zoom up to Gryffindor Tower and rap hard on the windows.
"Oi!" I bellowed, finally losing patience and sticking my head out of the window, "If I hear one more snowball I bash your f—!"
I ducked quickly as a snowball zoomed just over the top of my head. My hands rested on the window seal; I heard Ron yell, "OUCH!"
The snowball had narrowly missed me and pegged him in his face, which was now covered in snow.
I stood and peeked back out the window to see who it was. Below were two fiery-haired, mischievous-looking twins. They waved up at me enthusiastically, blowing kisses. I couldn't help but grin.
"It's Fred and George," I said to Ron, only partially turning around.
"Gits..." Ron muttered.
I turned fully back to the window and Fred cupped his hands over his mouth, "Come hang out with us!" He shouted.
"I can't!" I shouted back, "I'm helping your brother!"
"Our brother is beyond helping!" said George, "Come on, just a few minutes!"
I glanced back to Ron and Harry who were looking up at me curiously. It was Harry who spoke first, "Honestly Ash, you help us all the time and you're not the one who procrastinates in homework."
"We'll be fine," said Ron, "I'll ask you to proof them later when you're not busy."
"Oh, I love you two!" I said, running over and placing kisses to their cheeks. Just before I left the room to dress for the cold weather, I noticed that each of their faces were bright red that reached all the way up to their ears.
I rushed up to the common rooms and dressed in thicker robes and put on gloves fit for snowy weather. I went as quick as I could before leaving Gryffindor Tower and out to where the twins were playing snowball.
I peeked around the corner to see The twins and Lee Jordan in a free-for-all snowball war. They probably thought I'd abandoned them to help Ron with homework.
They were, for the most part, abstaining from magic, only using their wands to make the perfect little balls of snow.
I watched as George ducked down behind a tree and breathed heavily. He still hadn't seen me. I smiled mischievously to myself before using my wand to make several snow-balls and pelt them his direction. George was totally caught off guard.
Snow slid down his pretty, slightly freckled face and he looked around before his eyes met mine, "Ash, love! You made it!"
At the sound of my name, Fred and Lee looked up at me happily. I emerged from around the corner and smiled at them sweetly before hugging them all in turn.
"So how are we gonna do this? Free for all—?" I cut George off by another snowball to his face. He shot me a playful glare and readied himself a snowball, in a very low voice he said, "Run."
The fluffy snowball zoomed toward my face and I shrieked. Fred seized me by the shoulders and pulled me out of line of fire before it could hit me; it smacked Lee in the face instead.
"I'll protect you!" Fred cried, shoving me in the opposite direction. I stumbled across the thick snow, giggling as I went.
"Teams it is!" Lee laughed behind us.
We took refuge behind a very thick tree and I could feel my nose already numbing from the nippy wind.
"Okay," said Fred, facing me like a team leader, "We are not going to play fair. First we need to built a fort, and then ready ourselves for war."
I saluted him, "Yes, captain!"
We began waving wands and fashioning a snow bastion that was hollowed out and had carved out rectangular windows.
The snowball war began, and boy, it was TOTALLY unfair. When Fred and I fashioned up snow canons to load snowballs into, George and Lee didn't know what hit them—literally.
I was peeking out the window of our fortress when I noticed George was beginning to load up a snow canon of his own. Lee was right behind him making canon sized balls if snow to load in it.
They plopped the first one in and I squealed, turning around and running directly into Fred; I hadn't realized he was behind me.
He fell backwards and I landed directly on top of him. I think it's safe to say my face was going very, very red. We stayed like that for a moment.
When I felt my cheeks flush darker, I attempted to cover it up with sarcasm, "What are you looking at, twit?"
He reached up and brushed his hand over the side of my face, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, "Between you and I, I've always found your blush rather adorable."
I wasn't able to say anything after that, because our fortress crumbled in on us under the pressure of canon-snowballs.
I returned back to the common room before lunch, moments after Hermione had arrived. My robes were damp and freezing from the snowball fight I'd just been involved in.
"So?" said Ron, looking up Hermione, "Got all his lessons planned for him?"
"Well, I tried," she said dully, sinking into a chair beside Harry. "He wasn't even there when I arrived, I was knocking for at least half an hour. And then he came stumping out of the Forest."
I pulled off my robe and draped it across the back of one of the chairs; I held my hand out for Hermione's as well. She slipped it off and handed it to me; placing her robe directly beside mine, I pulled out my wand and gave it a swift little wave so that hot air streamed out of the tip; I pointed this at our robes, which began to steam faintly as they dried out.
Harry groaned and I let out a deep sigh at this news. The Forbidden Forest was teeming with the kind of creatures most likely to get Hagrid the sack. "What's he keeping in there? Did he say?" I asked curiously.
"No," said Hermione miserably. "He says he wants them to be a surprise. I tried to explain about Umbridge, but he just doesn't get it. He kept saying nobody in their right mind would rather study Knarls than Chimaeras—oh, I don't think he's got a Chimaera," she added at the appalled look on Harry and Ron's faces, "But that's not for lack of trying, from what he said about how hard it is to get eggs. I don't know how many times I told him he'd be better off following Grubbly-Plank's plan, I honestly don't think he listened to half of what I said. He's in a bit of a funny mood, you know. He still won't say how he got all those injuries."
Hagrid's reappearance at the staff table at breakfast next day was not greeted by enthusiasm from all students. Some, like Fred, George and Lee, roared with delight and sprinted up the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables to wring Hagrid's enormous hand; others, like Parvati and Lavender, exchanged gloomy looks and shook their heads.
Many of theme the students preferred Professor Grubbly-Planks lessons, and the worst of it was that a very small, unbiased part of me knew that they had good reason: Grubbly-Plank's idea of an interesting class was not one where there was a risk that somebody might have their head ripped off.
It was with a certain amount of apprehension that I headed down to Hagrid's on Tuesday, heavily muffled against the cold. I was worried, not only about what Hagrid might have decided to teach us, but also about how the rest of the class, particularly Malfoy and his cronies, would behave if Umbridge was watching us. Little twits, the lot of them.
The High Inquisitor was thankfully nowhere to be seen as we struggled through the snow towards Hagrid, who stood waiting for us on the edge of the Forest. He did not present a reassuring sight; the bruises that had been purple on Saturday night were now tinged with green and yellow and some of his cuts still seemed to be bleeding. Had Hagrid perhaps been attacked by some creature whose venom prevented the wounds it inflicted from healing? As though to complete the ominous picture, Hagrid was carrying what looked like half a dead cow over his shoulder.
"We're workin' in here today!" Hagrid called happily to the approaching students, jerking his head back at the dark trees behind him. "Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark."
"Oh Dear God." I squeaked to Ron. He was pale as the surrounding snow. "Let's at least hope we die by something cool."
"What prefers the dark?" I heard Malfoy say sharply to Crabbe and Goyle, a trace of panic in his voice. "What did he say prefers the dark—did you hear?"
I was a very spiteful person, so I took the delicious opportunity to whip around and mouth, "Wimp," at him with a wink and smirk. Anything that caused him discomfort at this point made me positively ecstatic.
"Ready?" said Hagrid cheerfully, looking around at the class. "Right, well, I've bin savin' a trip inter the Forest fer yer fifth year. Thought we'd go an' see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin' today is pretty rare, I reckon I'm probably the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train 'em."
"And you're sure they're trained, are you?" said Malfoy, the panic in his voice even more pronounced. "Only it wouldn't be the first time you'd brought wild stuff to class, would it?"
The Slytherins murmured agreement and a few Gryffindors looked as though they thought Malfoy had a fair point, too.
I, of course, couldn't contain my giggles, though. Harry laughed beside me pretty heartily as well. We each were greeted with a disapproving-Hermione-death-stare.
"Course they're trained," said Hagrid, scowling and hoisting the dead cow a little higher on his shoulder.
"So what happened to your face, then?" demanded Malfoy.
"Mind yer own business!" said Hagrid, angrily. "Now, if yeh've finished askin' stupid questions, follow me!"
It always brought me so much joy when I wasn't the only one calling Malfoy out on his stupidity. Hagrid turned and strode straight into the Forest. Nobody seemed much disposed to follow. In the sense that I absolutely loved Magical Creatures, I was completely unafraid. I straightened my back and thought of Newt Scamander, trekking into the forest and leading the rest of the class.
We walked for about ten minutes until we reached a place where the trees stood so closely together that it was as dark as twilight and there was no snow at all on the ground. Nice change in scenery, at least.
With a grunt, Hagrid deposited his half-a-cow on the ground, stepped back and turned to face us, most 0 everyone was creeping from tree to tree towards him, peering around nervously as though expecting to be set upon at any moment. I think I was the only one proudly front and center.
"Gather roun', gather roun'," Hagrid encouraged. "Now, they'll be attracted by the smell 'o the meat but I'm going ter give em a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me."
He turned, shook his shaggy head to get the hair out of his face and gave an odd, shrieking cry that echoed through the dark trees like the call of some monstrous bird. Nobody laughed: most of my classmates looked too scared to make a sound.
Hagrid gave the shrieking cry again. A minute passed in which the class continued to peer nervously over their shoulders and around trees for a first glimpse of whatever it was that was coming. And then, as Hagrid shook his hair back for a third time and expanded his enormous chest, something caught my eyes in the black space between two gnarled yew trees.
A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom and a moment later the dragonish face, neck and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. It surveyed the class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs.
A great wave of relief broke over me. Here at last was proof that Harry and I had not imagined these creatures, that they were real: Hagrid knew about them too. I looked eagerly at Harry, who looked equally as excited. Ron and Hermione were still staring around into the trees and after a few seconds I heard Ron whisper, "Why doesn't Hagrid call again?"
Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant as Ron's and were still gazing everywhere but at the horse standing feet from them. There were only two other people who seemed to be able to see them aside from Harry and I: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on his face; and Neville, whose eyes were following the swishing progress of the long black tail.
"Oh, an' here comes another one!" said Hagrid proudly, as a second black horse appeared out of the dark trees, folded its leathery-wings closer to its body and dipped its head to gorge on the meat. "Now... put yer hands up, who can see 'em?"
Immensely pleased to feel I was at last going to understand the mystery of these horses, I raised my hand, knowing that somewhere beside me, Harry was raising his as well. Hagrid nodded at the pair of us.
"Yeah... yeah, I knew the pair of you'd be able ter," he said seriously. "An' you too, Neville, eh? An'--"
"Excuse me," said Malfoy in a sneering voice, "But what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?"
For an answer, Hagrid pointed at the cow carcass on the ground. The whole class stared at it for a few seconds, then several people gasped and Parvati squealed. I understood why: bits of flesh stripping themselves away from the bones and vanishing into thin air had to look very odd indeed.
"What's doing it?" Parvati demanded in a terrified voice, retreating behind the nearest tree. "What's eating it?"
"Thestrals," said Hagrid proudly and Hermione gave a soft 'Oh!' of comprehension behind me. "Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. Now, who knows—?"
"But they're really, really unlucky!" interrupted Parvati, looking alarmed. "They're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them. Professor Trelawney told me once—"
"No, no, no," said Hagrid, chuckling, "Tha's jus' superstition, that is, they aren' unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful! Course, this lot don' get a lot o' work, it's mainly jus' pullin' the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey an' don' want ter Apparate—an' here's another couple, look—"
Two more horses came quietly out of the trees, one of them passing very close to Parvati, who shivered and pressed herself closer to the tree, saying, "I think I felt something, I think it's near me!"
"Don' worry, it won' hurt yeh," said Hagrid patiently. "Righ', now, who can tell me why some o' yeh can see 'em an' some can't?"
Hermione raised her hand.
"Go on then," said Hagrid, beaming at her.
"The only people who can see Thestrals," she said, "Are people who have seen death."
Right then, I went rigid. I don't ever recall watching anybody die. How could I see them if I had never witnessed death?
"Tha's exactly right," said Hagrid solemnly, "Ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, Thestrals—"
"Hem, hem."
Professor Umbridge had arrived. She was standing a few feet away from Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I, wearing her green hat and cloak again, her clipboard at the ready. Hagrid, who had never heard Umbridge's fake cough before, was gazing in some concern at the closest Thestral, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound.
"Hem, hem."
"Oh, hello!" Hagrid said, smiling, having located the source of the noise.
"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?" said Umbridge, in the same loud, slow voice she had used with him earlier, as though she were addressing somebody both foreign and very slow. "Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?"
"Oh, yeah," said Hagrid brightly. "Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as you can see—or, I dunno—can you? We're doin' Thestrals today—"
"I'm sorry?" said Professor Umbridge loudly, cupping her hand around her ear and frowning. "What did you say?"
Hagrid looked a little confused.
"Er—Thestrals!" he said loudly. "Big—er—winged horses, yeh know!"
He flapped his gigantic arms hopefully. Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows at him and muttered as she made a note on her clipboard: "Has... to... resort... to... crude... sign... language."
Oh, for the love of—! It took every ounce of restraint to stick to a simple eye roll and keep my comments to myself. This vile woman was picking at Hagrid, the sweetest man ever, trying to find things wrong with his teaching.
"Well... anyway..." said Hagrid, turning back to the class and looking slightly flustered, "Erm... what was I sayin'?"
"Appears... to... have... poor... short... term... memory," muttered Umbridge, loudly enough for everyone to hear her. Draco Malfoy looked as though Christmas had come a month early.
I felt my face heat up as I tried my damnedest to suppress my boiling rage.
"Oh, yeah," said Hagrid, throwing an uneasy glance at Umbridge's clipboard, but ploughing on valiantly. "Yeah, I was gonna tell yeh how come we got a herd. Yeah, so, we started off with a male an' five females. This one," he patted the first horse to have appeared, "Name o' Tenebrus, he's my special favourite, firs' one born here in the Forest—"
"Are you aware," Umbridge said loudly, interrupting him, "That the Ministry of Magic has classified Thestrals as 'dangerous'?"
My temper continued to escalate and I began shaking, but Hagrid merely chuckled.
"Thestrals aren' dangerous! All righ', they might take a bite outta yeh if yeh really annoy them—"
"Shows... signs... of... pleasure... at... idea... of... violence," muttered Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard again. I but hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. Hermione looked up at me, her eyes wide in horror as she realized what was happening.
All the people I was closest to knew that Hagrid was a very sensitive subject for me. He'd taken me in and let me stay in his cottage when I was catching up on my grade-level in magic the past year. He was my first friend in the wizarding world, and the only father figure I'd ever had.
Hermione knew the second she saw my face; there was nothing more dangerous than the woman I hated most, trying to make a mockery out of somebody very dear to my heart.
"No—come on!" said Hagrid, looking a little anxious now. "I mean, a dog'll bite if yeh bait it, won' it—but Thestrals have jus' got a bad reputation because o' the death thing—people used ter think they were bad omens, didn' they? Jus' didn' understand, did they?"
"I for one, think—"
"No one gives a damn what you think, woman!" I hissed, turning on her finally. I wouldn't have been surprised if there was steam shooting from my ears. "Thestrals are seriously misunderstood creatures. A lot less vile than you, might I add, you foul toad! Maybe you should read up a bit more and you would know that!"
"Acacia Evette Ivory!" Hagrid's voice boomed warningly. I instantly snapped out of my rage and turned to Hagrid, head hung in shame. "Have a little respect, will you, las?"
Umbridge looked absolutely dumbfounded, both at the fact that I had spoken to her in such a manner and that I had been so obedient at Hagrid's command. "Better put a muzzle on Miss Ivory. Seems that detentions aren't quite enough," she paused and looked up to Hagrid, "Maybe you do one thing right in your job. You handle savage little beasts well; that, however, makes them no less dangerous."
Umbridge didn't say anything beyond that; she finished writing her last note, then looked up at Hagrid and said, again very loudly and slowly, "Please continue teaching as usual. I am going to walk," she mimed walking (Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were having silent fits of laughter) "Among the students," (she pointed around at individual members of the class) "And ask them questions." She pointed at her mouth to indicate talking.
Hagrid stared at her, clearly at a complete loss to understand why she was acting as though he did not understand normal English. Hermione, beside me, also had tears of fury in her eyes now.
"You hag, you evil hag!" she whispered, as Umbridge walked towards Pansy Parkinson. "I know what you're doing, you awiul, twisted, vicious—"
"Erm... anyway," said Hagrid, clearly struggling to regain the flow of his lesson, "So—Thestrals. Yeah. Well, there's loads o' good stuff abou' them…"
I couldn't pay attention to anything anymore. The only thing I could hear was blood pumping angrily in my hears.
"Do you find," said Professor Umbridge in a ringing voice to Pansy Parkinson, "That you are able to understand Professor Hagrid when he talks?"
Just like Hermione, Pansy had tears in her eyes, but these were tears of laughter; indeed, her answer was almost incoherent because she was trying to suppress her giggles.
"No... because... well... it sounds... like grunting a lot of the time..."
Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. The few unbruised bits of Hagrid's face flushed, but he tried to act as though he had not heard Pansy's answer.
I was angry with Umbridge, but at the same time wanted to hug Hagrid and cry for him because he was being treated so poorly and did not at all deserve it.
"Er... yeah ... good stuff abou' Thestrals. Well, once they're tamed, like this lot, yeh'll never be lost again. 'Mazin' sense o' direction, jus' tell 'em where yeh want ter go—"
"Assuming they can understand you, of course," said Malfoy loudly, and Pansy Parkinson collapsed in a fit of renewed giggles. Professor Umbridge smiled indulgently at them and then turned to Neville.
"You can see the Thestrals, Longbottom, can you?" she said.
Neville nodded. Oh God. If she messed with him, I would absolutely lose whatever sense of 'calm' I had left.
"Who did you see die?" she asked, her tone indifferent.
"He doesn't have to tell you that!" I said, screaming at her. There were tears in my eyes and I wasn't sure whether it was because I was angry or because my heart was breaking. "It has nothing to do with the Thestrals! That's personal, you!— you foul, loathsome evil little—"
"ACACIA." Hagrid's voice boomed again. When I looked at him, his eyes were pleading. I could have been making things worse.
"Mind your tone." Umbridge said wickedly. Her eyes turned back to Neville.
Neville glanced at me sadly, before turning his gaze back to the Toad in Green, "My... my grandad."
"And what do you think of them?" she said, waving her stubby hand at the horses, who by now had stripped a great deal of the carcass down to bone.
"Erm," said Neville nervously, with a glance at Hagrid. "Well, they're... er... Okay..."
"Students... are... too... intimidated... to... admit... they... are ... frightened," muttered Umbridge, making another note on her clipboard.
"No!" said Neville, looking upset. "No, I'm not scared of them!"
"It's quite all right," said Umbridge, patting Neville on the shoulder with what she evidently intended to be an understanding smile, though it looked more like a leer to me. "Well, Hagrid," she turned to look up at him again, speaking once more in that loud, slow voice, "I think I've got enough to be getting along with. You will receive–" (she mimed taking something from the air in front of her) "–The results of your inspection–" (she pointed at the clipboard) "–In ten days' time." She held up ten stubby little fingers, then, her smile wider and more toadlike than ever before beneath her green hat, she bustled from our midst, leaving Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson in fits of laughter, Neville looking confused and upset, and me, shaking in fury. I wasn't alone, however; Hermione seemed to share my utter disgust and hatred
"That foul, lying, twisting old gargoyle!" stormed Hermione half an hour later, as we made our way back up to the castle through the channels we had made earlier in the snow. "You see what she's up to? It's her thing about half-breeds all over again—she's trying to make out Hagrid's some kind of dimwitted troll, just because he had a giantess for a mother—and oh, it's not fair, that really wasn't a bad lesson at all—I mean, all right, if it had been Blast-Ended Skrewts again, but Thestrals are fine—in fact, for Hagrid, they're really good!"
"Umbridge said they're dangerous," said Ron.
"Well, it's like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves," said Hermione impatiently, "And I suppose a teacher like Grubbly-Plank wouldn't usually show them to us before NEWT level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren't they? The way some people can see them and some can't! I wish I could."
"I'm surprised so many people could see them," said Ron. "Four in a class—"
"Yeah, Weasley, we were just wondering," said a malicious voice. Unheard by any of us in the muffling snow, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were walking along right behind us. "D'you reckon if you saw someone snuff it you'd be able to see the Quaffle better?"
I stepped right up to Draco's bipolar little face and let out a hiss, "Point a finger after you learn how to not wimp out over every one of Hagrid's lessons."
Draco got closer to my face as well; we were only inches away. I fought the urge to step back. Personally, I wasn't comfortable with him being this close to my face, but there was no way I was going to let him win.
"Are they going to kill each other or make out?" I heard Crabbe mutter huskily toward Goyle. I shot a quick glare in their general direction before hooking my angry gaze back to Draco. He seemed indifferent to his cronies' words.
"Out of my way," He said in a very low, menacing voice, "Swine."
I didn't sway. "Not a chance."
He gave me a small, hateful smirk before shouldering past me so hard I stumbled a bit. He, Crabbe and Goyle roared with laughter as they pushed past on their way to the castle, then broke into a chorus of 'Weasley is our King'. Ron's ears turned scarlet.
"Ignore them, just ignore them," intoned Hermione toward Ron and I.
"Ignore them?!" I said, turning on her, "Did you see that, or were you paying attention to something else? Oh I'll ignore him alright! After I give him a tail—!"
I raised my wand furiously to hit him with a spell when Hermione swiftly grabbed the wand from my hand and gave me a disapproving look. She made me take five deep breaths before she gave it back.
December arrived, bringing with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework for fifth-years. Ron and Hermione's prefect duties also became more and more onerous as Christmas approached. They were called upon to supervise the decoration of the castle ("You try putting up tinsel when Peeves has got the other end and is trying to strangle you with it," said Ron), to watch over first- and second-years spending their break-times inside because of the bitter cold ("And they're cheeky little snot-rags, you know, we definitely weren't that rude when we were in first year," said Ron) and to patrol the corridors in shifts with Argus Filch, who suspected that the holiday spirit might show itself in an outbreak of wizard duels ("He's got dung for brains, that one," said Ron furiously). We were all so busy that Hermione had even stopped knitting elf hats and was fretting that she was down to her last three.
"All those poor elves I haven't set free yet, having to stay here over Christmas because there aren't enough hats!"
I didn't really want to think about Christmas. I was probably going to be spending it mostly down at Hagrid's cabin, since I wasn't sure if Harry was staying or not. Hermione was going skiing with her parents, something that greatly amused Ron, who had never heard of Muggles strapping narrow strips of wood on to their feet to slide down mountains. Ron was going home to The Burrow.
I was with the twins one morning in the Common Room, they asked me what my holiday plans were; When I cast them a gloomy look and explained my situation, they both brightened and Fred said, "We asked mum if you could come home with us for Christmas, and she said it was a brilliant idea!"
I felt my spirits automatically lift: the thought of Christmas at The Burrow was truly wonderful, especially since it had been the twins inviting me. Maybe, despite everything, this year would be my best year yet.