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Aurora Areli
I HAD HOPED THAT the euphoria from winning the Quidditch Cup would last more than its weeklong run, but unfortunately, exams were nearly upon us. As June approached, all anybody wanted to do was spend time lazing about outside in the sunshine, but instead, we were stuck inside revising.
Even Fred and George were working, as they were about to take their OWLs. Percy was also about to take his NEWTs, and because he wanted to get into the Ministry of Magic, needed top grades. This meant there were severe punishments handed out to anyone who disturbed the quiet of the common room in the evenings. The only person who seemed to be more anxious than Percy was Hermione.
It was understandable — after I had finally figured out her Time-Turner secret, it made sense how she was taking so many classes. Harry and Ron, thankfully, had given up on asking her about the situation, but when they saw the exam timetable she had written up, couldn't restrain themselves.
"Hermione," Ron said cautiously, since she was liable to explode when interrupted these days. "Er — are you sure you've copied down these times right?"
"What?" Hermione snapped, picking up her timetable and examining it. "Yes, of course I have."
"Is there any point asking how you're going to sit two exams at once?" Harry asked.
"No," Hermione said shortly. "Have any of you seen my copy of Numerology and Grammatica?"
"Oh, yeah, I borrowed it for a bit of bedtime reading," Ron said, but very quietly, so that Harry and I were the only ones that heard him. I rolled my eyes at him as Hermione began shifting heaps of parchment around on her table in search of her book. Just then, there was a rustle at the window and Hedwig fluttered through it with a note clutched tightly in her beak.
"It's from Hagrid," Harry said, ripping the note open. "Buckbeak's appeal — it's set for the sixth."
"That's the day we finish our exams," Hermione said, continuing to look around for her Arithmancy book.
"And they're coming here to do it," Harry said, still reading from the letter. "Someone from the Ministry of Magic and — and an executioner."
Hermione looked up, her startled expression mirroring my own.
"They're bringing the executioner to the appeal!" she cried.
"But that — that sounds like they've already decided," I said, shaking my head in disbelief.
"Yeah, it does," Harry said slowly.
"They can't!" Ron howled. "I've spent ages reading up stuff for him, they can't just ignore it all!"
I had a horrible feeling that the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures had had its mind made up for it by Lucius Malfoy. Draco had toned down the sneers and snide comments since Gryffindor's victory against Slytherin, but with Buckbeak's trial approaching, seemed to regain some of his old swagger. From the derisive words I overheard, Malfoy seemed sure that Buckbeak was going to be killed, and was thoroughly pleased with himself for bringing it about.
My bottom lip was bruised and sore with how much I had to bite it to keep my mouth shut around the blond-haired weasel, and it took everything in me not to imitate Hermione and give him a good slap to the face.
The worst thing of it all was that we had no time or opportunity to go and see Hagrid due to the strict security measures not having been lifted. None of us wanted to risk being caught sneaking down to his cabin, especially without Harry's Invisibility Cloak to aid us.
. . . . .
"So, Hermione," I started, leaning forward towards her from where I was sitting at the foot of her bed. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about Time-Turners, would you?"
Hermione looked up suddenly from her book. "What? Why do you ask?"
Very smooth, Mione.
"You remember that day you missed Professor Flitwick's class, when we learned about Cheering Charms?" I asked.
"Yes, of course I do," she replied, eyeing me suspiciously.
"Well, when me and Harry and Ron came back, you were asleep on a book," I said, "and I could've sworn I saw one of them around your neck."
Hermione's eyes widened in shock, and her hand subconsciously flew up to the neckline of her shirt.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about."
I shot her an unimpressed look. "Well, I was trying to give you the opportunity to tell me yourself, but I guess I'll have to be more blunt. I know you've been using a Time-Turner to get to all of your classes — it's the only thing that makes any sort of sense."
"What? No I haven't," she insisted.
"I'm not going to tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about," I said.
"All right," Hermione finally gave in. "Yes, I've been using a Time-Turner. But you really mustn't tell anybody about it, Professor McGonagall specifically told me not to let anyone know," she added quickly.
"Of course I'm not going to tell anyone, I told you," I said. "I figured that it was supposed to be a secret since you hadn't told us already."
Hermione looked relieved. "Thank you." She then turned back to her endless books and stacks of parchment. "Now, can you quiz me on these constellations? I think I have them memorized, but I want to be fully certain."
"Sure," I agreed, picking up an unlabelled star chart. "What's this one?"
"Canis Major," Hermione said. "And that one there is Monoceros, and next to that is Orion."
"Are you sure you need me to quiz you?" I said.
"Yes, Rory, I'm sure," Hermione said exasperatedly. "Now stop questioning me and get on with it."
"Yes ma'am."
. . . . .
As exam week began, an unnatural hush fell over the castle. Us third-years emerged from Transfiguration for lunch on Monday limp and ashen-faced, comparing results and carping about how difficult the tasks were. We were set to turn a teapot into a tortoise, and while I did mine well (or so I hoped), Hermione had done better. Despite that, she still took to complaining about how her tortoise looked more like a turtle, which was the least of everyone else's worries.
"Mine still had a spout for a tail, what a nightmare . . ."
"Were the tortoises supposed to breathe steam?"
"It still had a willow-patterned shell, d'you think that'll count against me?"
Then, after a hasty lunch, it was straight back upstairs for the Charms exam, which I was actually looking forward to (not that I would admit that to anyone). Hermione had been right; Professor Flitwick did end up testing us on Cheering Charms. I was partnered up with Hermione, and she ended up in a feat of hysterical giggles after I performed the charm on her, and it took several minutes for her to calm down and be able to test her own.
After dinner, we hurried back to our common rooms to begin revising for Care of Magical Creatures, Potions and Astronomy, although all anybody wanted to do was relax after that day's exams.
Hagrid was in charge of our Care of Magical Creatures exam, which was easily the least challenging one we had to take. His heart didn't seem to be in it at all. He had provided a large tub of fresh Flobberworms for the class, and told us that all we had to do was keep them alive for an hour to pass the exam. Luckily for us, Flobberworms flourished best if they were left alone, which gave Harry, Ron, Hermione and I plenty of opportunity to speak to Hagrid.
"Beaky's gettin' a bit depressed," Hagrid told us, bending low on the pretence of checking that Harry's Flobberworm was still alive. "Bin cooped up too long. But still . . . we'll know day after tomorrow — one way or the other."
We had Potions that afternoon, which went rather well for me. I was pleased to see that my Confusing Concoction was just the right color and texture, which meant Snape didn't say anything to me as he checked over it. Poor Harry couldn't get his to thicken, and Snape seemed annoyingly pleased with the outcome as he scribbled what seemed like a zero onto his notes.
Then came Astronomy at midnight, up on the tallest tower; History of Magic was on Wednesday morning, and Herbology in the stiflingly hot greenhouses that afternoon. Most of us left the exam with sunburnt necks and wistful thoughts about that time the next day, when exams would be over.
Our second from last exam, on Thursday morning, was Defence Against the Dark Arts. Uncle Remus had compiled a sort of obstacle course outside in the sun, where we had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a Grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish our way across a patch of marsh, ignoring the misleading directions from a Hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a new Boggart.
Feeling confident with my success during the first part of the course, I climbed into the trunk with my wand raised, fully prepared to turn the Boggart Death Eater into a box of biscuits. What I wasn't expecting, however, was that instead of a Death Eater, Voldemort himself would be inside that trunk.
He was just as horrible as I remembered — the pale, snakelike features were illuminated by a sliver of light shining through a crack in the door, and his red eyes were glowing brightly.
"Hello, Aurora," Voldemort's high, cold voice said.
"Y-you're not real," I said, shaking my head quickly. "You're not real."
"Oh, really?" he drawled, smiling evilly. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because the real Voldemort would never wear this," I retorted. "Riddikulus!"
With that, Voldemort's robes changed into the most gaudy, obnoxious ballgown anyone could think of. I quickly turned and exited the trunk, feeling quite shaken.
"Are you all right, Rory?" Uncle Remus asked.
"Yeah! Yeah, I'm okay," I nodded. "How did I do?"
Uncle Remus smiled. "Full marks."
I grinned, relieved. "Great."
Then I stumbled over to Harry, who had already completed his exam and was looking at me in concern. I pretended not to notice, and instead turned to watch Ron as he got confused by a Hinkypunk and sank waist-high into the quagmire.
After a moment, I felt a warm hand gently grab my own. I smiled, knowing fully well whose it was.
Hermione did everything perfectly, until she reached the trunk with the Boggart in it. After about a minute inside it, she burst out again, screaming.
"Hermione!" Uncle Remus said, startled. "What's the matter?"
"P-P-Professor McGonagall!" Hermione gasped, pointing into the trunk. "Sh-she said I'd failed everything!"
It took a little while for me to get Hermione to calm down. When she finally regained a grip on herself, she, Harry, Ron and I went back to the castle. Ron was still slightly inclined to laugh at Hermione's Boggart, but an argument was averted by the sight that met us on the top of the steps.
Cornelius Fudge, sweating slightly in his pinstriped cloak, was standing there staring out at the grounds. He started at the sight of Harry.
"Hello there, Harry!" he said. "And Aurora Areli, how are you? Just had an exam, I expect? Nearly finished?"
"Yes," Harry said, and I nodded, smiling politely. I had spoken to the Minister of Magic quite a few times during visits to the Ministry of Magic's headquarters in London with my parents. Hermione and Ron, however, were not on speaking terms with him, and therefore hovered awkwardly in the background.
"Lovely day," Fudge said, casting an eye over the lake. "Pity . . . pity . . ."
He sighed deeply and looked down at Harry and I.
"I'm here on an unpleasant mission, I'm afraid. The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures required a witness to the execution of a mad Hippogriff. As I needed to visit Hogwarts to check on the Black situation, I was asked to step in."
"Does that mean the appeal's already happened?" Ron interrupted, stepping forwards.
"No, no, it's scheduled for this afternoon," Fudge said, looking curiously at Ron.
"Then you might not have to witness an execution at all!" Ron said stoutly. "The Hippogriff might get off!"
Before Fudge could answer, two wizards came through the castle doors behind him. One was so ancient, he seemed to be withering before our eyes; the other was tall and strapping, with a thin black moustache. I thought that they must be representatives of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, because the older wizard squinted towards Hagrid's cabin and said in a feeble voice, "Dear, dear, I'm getting too old for this . . . two o'clock, isn't it, Fudge?"
The black-moustached man was fingering something in his belt; I looked and saw that he was running his thumb along the blade of a shining axe. I frowned, but said nothing. Ron, however, (lacking subtlety as always), was about to open his mouth to speak, but Hermione nudged him hard in the ribs and jerked her head towards the Entrance Hall.
"Why'd you stop me?" Ron said angrily, as we entered the Great Hall for lunch. "Did you see them? They've even got the axe ready! This isn't justice!"
"Yes, but our parents work for the Ministry, Ron," I reminded him. "You have to be careful about what you say around them."
Hermione nodded. "And as long as Hagrid keeps his head this time, and argues his case properly, they can't possibly execute Buckbeak . . ."
But I could tell she didn't really believe what she was saying. I didn't either, if that counted for anything.
All around us, people were chattering excitedly as they ate their lunch, happily anticipating the end of exams that afternoon. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I didn't join in, as we were too lost in worry about Hagrid and Buckbeak.
Mine and the boys' last exam was Divination, while Hermione's was Muggle Studies. We walked up the marble staircase together. Hermione left us on the first floor, leaving Harry, Ron and I to proceed all the way to the seventh, where many of the class were sitting on the spiral staircase to Professor Trelawney's classroom, trying to cram in some last-minute revision.
"She's seeing us all separately," Neville informed us, as we went to sit down next to him. He had his copy of Unfogging the Future open to the chapter on crystal-gazing. "Have any of you ever seen anything in a crystal ball?"
"Nope," Ron said, in an offhand voice. He kept checking his watch, and I knew that he was counting down the time until Buckbeak's appeal.
"I'm sure you'll be fine if you bend the truth a little," I said. "Pack it full of misery and she'll be happy."
The queue of people outside the classroom shortened much more slowly than I wanted it to. As each person climbed back down the silver ladder, the rest of the class hissed, "What did she ask? Was it okay?"
But they all refused to say.
"She says the crystal ball's told her that, if I tell you, I'll have a horrible accident!" Neville squeaked, as he clambered back down the ladder towards me and the boys, as we'd finally reached the landing.
"That's convenient," Ron snorted. "You know, I'm starting to think Hermione was right about her." He jabbed his thumb towards the trapdoor overhead. "She's a right old fraud."
"You think?" I said, glancing at my own watch, and tapping my leg impatiently. It was now two o'clock.
"Wish she'd hurry up . . ." Harry said.
Parvati came back down the ladder glowing with pride.
"She says I've got all the makings of a true Seer," she informed us. "I saw loads of stuff . . . well, good luck!" And she hurried down the spiral staircase towards Lavender.
"Aurora Areli," said the familiar, misty voice from over our heads.
"Wish me luck," I sighed, before climbing up the silver ladder to the sickly-scented classroom.
The tower room was hotter than ever; the curtains were closed, the fire was alight, and I had the urge to cough as the smoke from the incense and candles wafted towards me. I tried as hard as I could not to trip over the clutter of chairs and tables as I made my way to where Professor Trelawney sat waiting for me before a large crystal ball.
"Good day, my dear," she said softly. "If you would kindly gaze into the Orb . . . take your time, now . . . then tell me what you see within it . . ."
I nodded to her, leaned over the crystal ball and stared as hard as I could, willing it to show me something. It took a minute, but then, to my surprise, the white fog began swirling faster into different, dark shapes.
"Well?" Professor Trelawney prompted delicately. "What do you see?"
"I see — I see a house," I told her. "It looks old, like the Shrieking Shack . . . and there's a group of people outside. There's a — there's a dog, too."
"Indeed!" Professor Trelawney whispered, scribbling onto her parchment. "And does this dog resemble the Grim at all?"
"No," I said shortly, shaking my head. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it did in fact, look like the Grim. "Well — maybe, I suppose so." And then the shapes swirled again and changed. "Now there's clouds . . . and stars . . . the moon is full . . ."
"There is indeed a full moon tonight, my dear," Professor Trelawney nodded. "Is that all?"
"No, one of the people is changing, he —" My eyes widened. "— he's a werewolf."
"A werewolf?" Professor Trelawney scribbled vigorously. "Is he, perhaps, attacking anyone?"
"I — I don't know," I said, not wanting to watch any more. "T-there's a Hippogriff, though."
"You might be seeing dear Hagrid's Hippogriff," Professor Trelawney said. "Does the Hippogriff have its head?"
"What?" I looked up at her, startled. "Yes, of course it does."
Professor Trelawney sighed. "Well, dear, I think we'll leave it there . . . thank you for sharing those — er — interesting predictions . . . I'm sure you did your best."
My best? I didn't even know I could crystal-gaze at all. "Yes, thank you, Professor."
Then, I gathered my things and left the oven of a classroom. I checked my watch and saw that the exam had taken me about twenty minutes to complete. The boys both stood, alert, as I descended the ladder.
"How was it?" Ron asked. "Did you see anything?"
"Surprisingly, yes," I said, to their obvious confusion. "It was really weird, though. I'll see you two back in the common room, yeah?"
"Yeah, see you," Harry nodded. I sent them a small wave before starting back down the spiral staircase. I met up with Hermione along the way, so we walked to the common room together.
Upon entering, I noticed Jupiter hovering outside of one of the windows. Hermione and I hurried over and opened it so that the pretty brown owl could fly inside. There was a letter attached to his leg, so I removed it and sent him on his way.
"Who's that from?" Hermione asked, peering curiously at the piece of parchment.
I flipped the letter over, revealing its sender. "It's from Hagrid — this must be news about the appeal."
The note was dry this time; no tears had splattered it, yet his hand seemed to have shaken so much as he wrote that it was hardly legible.
Lost appeal. They're going to execute at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don't come down. I don't want you to see it.
Hagrid
"They can't do that!" Hermione gasped, shaking her head angrily. "Buckbeak is innocent!"
Before I could respond, the portrait opened and Ron walked over to us. He frowned when he saw the note in my hands.
"What's that?" he asked, so I passed it to him. "I'm going to kill Malfoy," he finally said.
The three of us stayed in our corner, quietly discussing what we should do for Hagrid. Around us, people were laughing and joking, celebrating the end of exams and freedom from revision and classes. A few minutes later, Harry burst through the portrait hole, looking frantic. It looked like he had just run here all the way from the North Tower.
"Professor Trelawney," he panted, "just told me —"
But he stopped abruptly when he saw the dour looks on our faces.
"Buckbeak lost," Ron said weakly. "Hagrid's just sent this."
He handed Harry the note Hagrid had sent. I watched as Harry's eyes scanned the almost illegible words, his eyebrows furrowing in anger.
"We've got to go," Harry said, once he'd finished reading. "He can't just sit there on his own, waiting for the executioner!"
"Sunset, though," Ron said, staring out of the window with a blank look in his eyes. "We'd never be allowed . . . specially you, Harry."
Harry sat down in the seat next to me and put his head in his hands, groaning in frustration.
"If we only had the Invisibility Cloak . . ."
Without hesitating, I asked, "Where is it?"
Harry explained that he left it in a passageway under the statue of a one-eyed witch.
". . . if Snape sees me anywhere near there again, I'm in serious trouble," he finished.
"Yeah, if he sees you," I said, getting to my feet. "You just tap the witch and say 'Dissendium' to get in, right?"
"Right, but —" Harry started, but I didn't wait for the rest of his sentence. I grabbed my wand off the table and made for the Fat Lady's portrait. Before anyone could stop me, I was halfway down the corridor.
It took a little while, especially because of the increased security, but I eventually made my way back to Gryffindor Tower with the Invisibility Cloak securely hidden under my robes. When I reentered the common room, Harry, Hermione and Ron all stared at me in slight disbelief.
"What?" I said, feigning innocence.
"You're amazing," Harry blurted out. His eyes widened immediately afterwards, like he couldn't believe he just said that.
"Um, thanks Harry," I said, my cheeks growing warm.
I chose to ignore the smirks and knowing looks Ron and Hermione were giving us.
. . . . .
We went down to dinner with everybody else, but didn't return to Gryffindor Tower afterwards. Harry hid the Cloak down the front of his robes and had to keep his arms crossed to hide the obvious lump.
We sulked in an empty chamber off the Entrance Hall, listening for the last pair of people to leave. Once we heard a door slam, Hermione poked her head around the door.
"Okay," she whispered, "no one there — Cloak on —"
We had to walk very close together so that nobody would see us. We crossed the Entrance Hall beneath the Cloak and down the stone front steps to the grounds. The sun was already disappearing behind the Forbidden Forest.
We reached Hagrid's cabin and knocked. He was a minute before answering, and when he did, he looked all around for his visitor, pale-faced and trembling.
"It's us," Harry hissed. "We're wearing the Invisibility Cloak. Let us in and we can take it off."
"Yeh shouldn've come!" Hagrid whispered, but he stood back and let us in anyway. Hagrid quickly shut the door and Harry pulled the Cloak off of us.
Hagrid wasn't crying, nor did he throw himself upon our necks. He looked like a man who did not know where he was or what to do. My heart ached at the sight; this helplessness was worse to watch than tears.
"Wan' some tea?" he offered. His great hands were shaking as he reached for the kettle.
"Where's Buckbeak, Hagrid?" Hermione asked hesitantly.
"I — I took him outside," Hagrid said, spilling milk all over the table as he filled up the jug. "He's tethered in me pumpkin patch. Thought he oughta see the trees an' — an' smell fresh air — before —"
Hagrid's hand trembled so violently that the milk jug slipped from his grasp and shattered all over the floor.
"Let us do it, Hagrid," I said quickly, and Hermione and I hurried over to clean up the broken glass and spilled milk.
"There's another one in the cupboard," Hagrid said, sitting down and wiping his forehead on his sleeve.
"Isn't there anything anyone can do, Hagrid?" Harry asked fiercely as he took a seat next to him. "Dumbledore —"
"He's tried," Hagrid said. "He's got no power ter overrule the Committee. He told 'em Buckbeak's all right, but they're scared . . . yeh know what Lucius Malfoy's like . . . threatened 'em, I expect . . . an' the executioner, Macnair, he's an old pal o' Malfoy's . . . but it'll be quick an' clean . . . an' I'll be beside him . . ."
I squeezed my eyes shut momentarily to stop the tears that were threatening to spill out as I placed large shards of glass into the bin.
"Dumbledore's gonna come down while it — while it happens," Hagrid said. "Wrote me this mornin'. Said he wants ter — ter be with me. Great man, Dumbledore . . ."
Hermione, who had been rummaging in Hagrid's cupboard for another milk jug, let out a small, quickly stifled sob. She straightened up with the new jug in her hands, fighting back tears.
"We'll stay with you, too, Hagrid," she began, but Hagrid shook his shaggy head.
"Yeh're ter go back up ter the castle. I told yeh, I don' wan' yeh watchin'. An' yeh shouldn' be down here anyway . . . if Fudge an' Dumbledore catch yeh out without permission, Harry, yeh'll be in big trouble."
Silent tears were streaming down Hermione's face, but she did her best to hide them from Hagrid like I was. I offered to make tea, while Hermione picked up the milk bottle to pour some into the jug. Then, she let out a shriek.
"Ron! I — I don't believe it — it's Scabbers!"
Ron gaped at her.
"What are you talking about?"
Hermione brought the milk jug over to the table and turned it upside-down. With a frantic squeak, and much scrambling to get back inside, Scabbers the creepy rat came sliding out onto the table.
"Scabbers!" Ron said blankly. "Scabbers, what are you doing here?"
He grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light. Scabbers had never looked worse. He was thinner than ever, large tufts of hair had fallen out leaving wide bald patches, and he writhed in Ron's hands as though desperate to free himself.
"It's okay, Scabbers!" Ron said. "No cats! There's nothing here to hurt you!"
Hagrid suddenly stood up, his eyes fixed on the window and normally ruddy face the color of parchment.
"They're comin' . . ."
Harry, Ron, Hermione and I whipped around. A group of men was walking down the distant castle steps. Albus Dumbledore was in the lead, his silver beard gleaming in the dying sun with Cornelius Fudge trotting next to him. Behind them came the feeble old Committee member and the executioner, Macnair.
"Yeh gotta go," Hagrid said urgently. Every inch of him was trembling. "They mustn' find yeh here . . . go on, now . . ."
Ron stuffed Scabbers into his pocket and Hermione picked up the Cloak.
"I'll let yeh out the back way," Hagrid said.
We followed him to the door into his back garden. It felt very strange to see Buckbeak a few yards away, tethered to a tree behind Hagrid's pumpkin patch. Buckbeak seemed to know something was happening. He turned his sharp head from side to side, and pawed the ground nervously.
"It's okay, Beaky," Hagrid said softly. "It's okay . . ." He turned to the four of us. "Go on," he said. "Get goin'."
But we didn't move.
"Hagrid, we can't —"
"Buckbeak's innocent —"
"We'll tell them what really happened —"
"They can't kill him —"
"Go!" Hagrid said fiercely. "It's bad enough without you lot in trouble an' all!"
We didn't have a choice. As Hermione threw the Cloak over me and the boys, voices could be heard at the front of the cabin. Hagrid looked at the place where we had just vanished from sight.
"Go quick," he said hoarsely. "Don' listen . . ."
And he strode back into his cabin as someone knocked at the front door.
Slowly, in a kind of horrified trance, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I set off silently around Hagrid's house. As we reached the other side, the front door closed with a sharp snap.
"Please, let's hurry," Hermione whispered. "I can't stand it, I can't bear it . . ."
I nodded my head in agreement as we started up the sloping lawn towards the castle. The sun was sinking fast now, with a purple and red sky to prove it.
Ron stopped dead.
"Oh, please, Ron," Hermione began.
"It's Scabbers — he won't — stay put —"
Ron was bent over, trying to keep Scabbers in his pocket, but the rat was going berserk; squeaking madly, twisting and flailing, trying to sink his teeth into Ron's hand.
"Scabbers, it's me, you idiot, it's Ron," Ron hissed.
I heard a door open behind us and men's voices.
"Ron, come on, please," I breathed, feeling more tears well in my eyes. "They're going to do it!"
"Okay — Scabbers, stay put —"
As we walked forwards again, I was tempted to cover my ears to muffle the voices behind us. Ron stopped again.
"I can't hold him — Scabbers, shut up, everyone'll hear us —"
The rat was squealing wildly, but not loudly enough to cover up the sounds drifting from Hagrid's garden. I bit my lip anxiously at the jumble of indistinct male voices. There was a silence and then, without warning, the unmistakeable swish and thud of an axe.
I gasped, and covered my face with my hands as Harry wrapped a comforting arm around me. Hermione swayed on the spot.
"They did it!" she whispered. "I d-don't believe it — they did it!"