Hogsmeade.
One of my favorite days during term. It lets us all relax and have a little fun instead of worrying about homework or classes.
Students lean into a bitter wind, trudging through deep snow.
"For weeks you carry around this book, practically sleep with it... and you have no desire to find out who The Half-Blood Prince is?" Hermione asks Harry.
"I didn't say I wasn't curious." He tells her. "And, by the way, I don't sleep with it."
"Sure you don't." I say sarcastically. Harry glares at me.
"Well, it's true." Ron defends. "I like a nice chat before I go to bed. Now you're always reading that bloody book. It's like being with Hermione or Mia."
This time it's Hermione and I's turn to glare.
"Well, we were curious. So we went to-" Hermione starts, but both boys cut her off.
"The library."
"And?" Harry adds.
"And... nothing. There's no reference to the Half-Blood Prince anywhere." I answer.
"Good. That settles it then."
Hermione starts to object, when Hagrids booming voice interrupts us. "Hey, you four!"
He emerges out of the trees, beard crusted in white, looking like a crazed Father Christmas. Behind him, deep in the woods, dark silhouettes, Aurors, can be seen. Hermione eyes them briefly, then nods to the pulsating burlap bag Hagrid clutches in his fist.
"What've you got there, Hagrid?" She asks.
Hagrid tips open the bag. The four of us grimace. He chuckles. "Stinksap. Burn the whiskers right off yer chin. Trees 'ere are drippin' with it."
"Stinksap? You're not sick, are you?" I ask him, worried.
"It's not fer me. It's fer Aragog. Yeh remember Aragog, don' yeh?"
"Spider? About six feet tall? Ten feet wide?" Ron asks.
"Tha's the one. He's taken ill. I'm hopin' ter nurse 'im back. Keep yer fingers crossed." Hagrid crosses his fingers. Ron forces a grin, does the same, shakes his head as Hagrid disappears back into the trees.
"Barking. Does he not remember that raving arachnid tried to eat us?" Ron asks Harry and I.
"Well, I'll never forget it." I scoff, remembering second year. Then I notice Hermione staring at the Aurors again. "What?"
"The Aurors. I know they're here to protect us, but... somehow I don't feel any safer."
"Probably because the ministry is filled with a bunch of corrupt politicians." The three stare at me. "What? You remember last year..."
Just then Harry and I spy Slughorn, heading down towards the Village, passing a weary Flitwick coming the other way.
"Filius! I was hoping to find you at the Three Broomsticks."
"Emergency choir practice, I'm afraid, Horace." We watch Slughorn continue on toward the Village.
"Who's up for a Butterbeer?" Harry asks.
As the four of us enter, Harry glances round, locates Slughorn at the bar, planted plumply on a stool.
"No. Over here." Harry states.
Hermione, Ron, and I, in the midst of seating ourselves at a perfectly acceptable, and clean, table, see Harry seat himself at one strewn with the detritus of a previous customer, but which puts him in direct view of Slughorn. We exchange a glance, shrug, and join Harry. Ron starts to take the chair directly opposite Harry, blocking his view.
"No, no. Sit next to me." Ron stops, exchanges another glance with Hermione and I.
"O-kay."
A skinny kid in an apron appears, tosses a filthy rag upon the table, which begins to wipe the surface on its own. Harry cranes his neck around the kid to keep Slughorn in view.
"What'll we have?"
"Four Butterbeers. Splash of ginger in mine, please." Hermione states. She smiles at the boy and he nods.
The kid whistles and the rag leaps back into his pocket. Harry continues to eye Slughorn, when he sees Draco. They lock eyes briefly, then Draco exits.
"Aw, bloody hell..." Ron mutters.
I turn, seeing Ron glowering at Ginny, who sits in a dark corner with Dean, their faces lit by a guttering candle.
"Oh, honestly, Ronald. They're just holding hands..." I try to tell him. Then Dean kisses Ginny. "And snogging..."
"I'd like to leave."
"Leave? You can't be serious." Hermione chuckles, thinking he's joking.
"That happens to be my sister." He snarks at her.
"So? What if she looked over here and saw you snogging me? Would you expect her to get up and leave?" Hermione asks and I let out a laugh. Ron blinks, utterly speechless. Then Slughorn comes up to our table.
"Harry! Mia! My favorite twins!" Slughorn's voice booms so loudly even Ginny jumps, and catches Harry looking. As Slughorn waddles over, sloshing mug in hand, Harry and I rise immediately, actions so grossly out of character for us that Hermione regards us with amused curiosity.
"Hello, sir. Wonderful to see you." Harry says. Hermione, brow wrinkling, turns to Ron, silently mouths: wonderful to see you?
"So what brings you here, sir?" I ask.
"Oh, the Three Broomsticks and I go way back. Longer than I'd care to admit. In fact, I remember when it was simply One Broomstick!" As Slughorn chuckles, Harry and I join in, laughing heartily as well. Slughorn's belly trembles next to Hermione's cheek and his waving mug sloshes over, spattering the table. "Oops! All hands on deck, Granger!"
Hermione smiles thinly, when a whistle is heard and the filthy rag is back, whisking away Slughorn's mess as the skinny kid slides three foaming mugs onto the table.
"Listen, you two. In the old days, I used to throw together the occasional supper and invite a select student or two. Would you be game?"
"We'd consider it an honor, sir." Harry says. I smile and nod.
"Thank you so much for the kind invitation."
"You'd be welcome too, Granger." Hermione, in the midst of emptying her Butterbeer in one long draw, slams down her mug, leaving behind a foam mustache.
"Be delighted, sir."
"Brilliant. Look for my owl." He looks to Ron. "Good to see you, Wallenby."
Ron frowns as Slughorn waddles away, turns to Harry and I. "What're you two playing at?"
"Dumbledore asked us to... get to know him." I try to explain.
"Get to know him?"
"Dunno. But it must be important." Harry states.
"Otherwise Dumbledore wouldn't ask." I add. Ron then turns to Hermione and gestures to her upper lip.
"Um... You've got a little..." Without a thought, she wipes her sleeve to her lip.
The snow falls heavily now. Ron and Harry walk together, while Hermione and I trail several yards behind, pirouetting happily, letting snowflakes fall on our tongues.
"Bit worried about her. Did you hear that rubbish she was talking back in the pub? Her and me snogging. Ha. As if..." Ron mutters to Harry, hoping Hermione doesn't hear.
"Katie. You don't know what it could be!" Up ahead, Katie Bell and Leanne stand in the drifting snow, arguing. Katie holds a slender package. Hermione comes bumping up, drapes her arms over the boys. I come up to the side.
"What's up?" Hermione slurs her words a bit.
At that very instant, Katie Bell rises six feet into the air. Hair dancing violently in the wind, her face remains eerily placid. Then she screams. Harry and Ron dash forward, seize her ankles. At their touch, she falls to the snow, thrashing and shrieking, eyes rolled up in her skull.
"I warned her! I warned her not to touch it!" Leanne yells.
I look to the ground. Lying in the snow is the package, torn.
"Harry, she's swallowing her tongue." Ron says, worriedly.
"I'll get someone!" Hermione yells.
"There's no time!" I yell, then point my wand at her. "Petrificus Totalus!" Her body stops moving, just lying there in the snow. I turn her to her side so that she can breath.
Suddenly, a massive figure lurches out of the white. Hagrid.
"Get back! All o' yeh!" He says this so forcefully the others instantly obey. I stay by Katie's side so that she can continue to breath.
Effortlessly, he scoops up Katie's paralyzed body and then, as if calming a terrified animal, presses his face close to hers and whispers with great tenderness, "Now, now. Now, now..." Over and over he repeats this, soothingly, the words like a mantra. "Don' go touchin' tha' but by the wrappin's. Unnerstan'?"
Hagrid nods darkly to the package in the snow. Harry kneels. Poking through the paper is an ornate opal necklace. Taking off my scarf, I carefully enfold the package and rise it with my wand. Then, along with the others, I watch Hagrid lumber off, Katie cradled in his arms. In seconds they are swallowed by the snow. The only sound is the roar of the wind.