Y/N's POV
Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin won, though narrowly. According to Wood, this was good news for Gryffindor, we would take second place if we beat Ravenclaw. Wood therefore increased the number of team practices to five a week. This meant that with Lupin's Anti-Dementor classes, which were more draining than six Quidditch practices, I had just one night a week to do all my homework. Even so, I was not nearly as much strain as Hermione, whose immense workload finally seemed to be getting to her. Every night, without fail, Hermione was to be seen in a corner of the common room, several tables spread with books, Arithmancy charts, rune dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects, and file upon file of extensive notes, she barely spoke to anybody and snapped when she was interrupted.
"How's she doing it?" Ron muttered to me and Harry one evening as we sat finishing an essay on Undetectable Poisons for Snape. I looked up. Hermione was barely visible behind a tottering pile of books.
"Doing what?" Harry asked.
"Getting to all her classes!" Ron said. "I heard her talking to Professor Vector, that Arithmancy witch, this morning. They were going on about yesterday's lesson, but Hermione can't've been there, because she was with us in Care of Magical Creatures! And Ernie McMillan told me she's never missed a Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Divination, and she's never missed one of them either!"
I knew Hermione had a time-turner but I just shrugged, ten seconds later, Wood appeared looking quite embarrassed.
"Bad news, Y/N. I've just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. She got a bit annoyed at me. Told me I'd got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about you staying alive. Just because I told her I didn't care if it threw you off, as long as you caught the Snitch first." Wood shook his head in disbelief. "Honestly, the way she was yelling at me, you'd think I'd said something terrible. Then I asked her how much longer she was going to keep it..." he screwed up his face and imitated Professor McGonagall's severe voice. "'As long as necessary, Wood' I reckon it's time you ordered a new broom, Y/N. There's an order form at the back of Which Broomstick, you could get a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, like Malfoy's got."
"I'm not buying anything Malfoy thinks is good," I said flatly.
January faded into February. The match against Ravenclaw was drawing nearer and nearer, but I still hadn't ordered a new broom. I was now asking Professor McGonagall for news of the Firebolt after every Transfiguration lesson, Ron and Harry standing hopefully at my shoulder.
"No, L/N, you can't have it back yet." Professor McGonagall told me before I'd even opened my mouth. "We've checked for most of the usual curses, but Professor Flitwick believes the broom might be carrying a Hurling Hex. I shall tell you once we've finished checking it. Now, please stop badgering me."
On the bright side, I was improving at the Patronus charm. Harry, however, seemed to be slightly behind.
"You're expecting too much of yourself," said Professor Lupin, "for a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren't passing out anymore, are you?"
"I thought a Patronus would charge the Dementors down or something," said Harry dispiritedly, "make them disappear-"
"The true Patronus does do that," said Lupin, "but you've achieved a great deal in a very short space of time."
There was silence, then I asked a question. "What's under a Dementor's hood?"
Professor Lupin looked at me thoughtfully.
"Hmmm, well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor lowers its hood only to use its last and worst weapon."
"What's that?" Harry asked.
"They call it the Dementor's Kiss," said Lupin, "it's what Dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and-and suck out their soul."
"What- they kill-?" I said in shock.
"Oh no," said Lupin, "much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, nothing. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever...lost."
"It's the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry have given the Dementors permission to perform it if they find him." I said.
Harry sat stunned for a moment.
"He deserves it," he said suddenly.
"You think so?" said Lupin lightly. "Do you really think anyone deserves that?"
"Yes." said Harry defiantly. "For...for some things."
I personally thought no one deserved to have a Dementor's Kiss performed on them but I didn't voice my opinion. Shortly after, me and Harry left the classroom and started walking back to the Common Room. On our way there, we ran into Professor McGonagall.
"Do watch where you're going, L/N!"
"Sorry, Professor-"
"I've just been looking for you in the Gryffindor Common Room. Well, here it is, we've done everything we could think of, and there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it at all, you've got a very good friend somewhere, L/N..."
My jaw dropped. She was holding out my Firebolt, and it looked as magnificent as ever.
"I can have it back?" I said weakly. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," said Professor McGonagall, and she was actually smiling, "I daresay you'll need to get the feel of it before Saturday's match, won't you? And L/N, do try and win, won't you? Or we'll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me only last night."
Speechless, I carried the Firebolt back upstairs toward Gryffindor Tower. As I turned a corner, he saw Ron dashing toward me, grinning from ear to ear.
"She gave it to you? Excellent! Listen, can I still have a go on it? Tomorrow?"
"Me too!" Harry said from my side.
I smiled. "Yeah of course, I think you two both owe Hermione an apology though."
When we got back to the Common Room, and after everyone admired my new broom, Ron and Harry finally managed to apologise to Hermione. After they both apologised both Harry and Ron offered to take my broom upstairs.
"I'll take it!" said Ron eagerly. "I've got to give Scabbers his rat tonic." He and Harry then went to the boys' dorm.
"Can I sit down, then?" I asked Hermione.
She nodded.
"Why don't you just drop a couple of subjects?" I asked, watching her lifting books as she searched for her rune dictionary.
"I couldn't do that!" said Hermione, looking scandalised.
"Arithmancy looks terrible," I said, picking up a very complicated-looking number chart.
"Oh no, it's wonderful!" said Hermione earnestly. "It's my favourite subject! It's-"
But exactly what was wonderful about Arithmancy, I never found out. At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys' staircase. The whole Common Room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, then Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet. Harry following behind him.
"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to Hermione's table. "LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face.
"Ron, what-?"
"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!"
Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. I looked down at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it. Something that looked horribly like-
"BLOOD!" Ron yelled into the stunned silence. "HE'S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?"
"N-no," said Hermione in a trembling voice.
Ron threw something down onto Hermione's rune translation. Hermione leaned forward. Lying on top were several long, ginger cat hairs.