A/N: 1. I'm heading back to the quaint college town of Geneseo in a few days, so updates will slow. Unlike last semester, I should have time to keep things going, perhaps at a rate of one chapter per week or two. 2. Many people have expressed their dislike of Ron to me, in various ways, but instead of doing the easy thing and writing him out of the story, I want to try to slowly reform his character. He must be doing something right by the time OotP rolls around to garner Luna's affection (unless I totally misread canon…).
Chapter Nine
Fall Term 1991
The next morning, November first, I lay awake for several minutes before getting out of bed. I still hadn't completely processed the previous day's events, and in that moment just after sleep leaves, I wondered if it had all been a vivid dream. I had given up, had accepted that the end had come, and then someone had intervened. That someone was Harry Potter, and he had pulled me back from the very edge of everything. In some vague, inarticulate way, I realized that he had given me the rest of my life.
Those thoughts slipped away as I readied myself for the day, though, and soon enough I had made the familiar trip through the school to the Great Hall. I wasn't sure what I would say to Harry or Ron when I saw them, but when I entered the Hall for breakfast, Harry was sitting at the table. I faltered for a second, imagining awkwardness and stilted conversation; then I steeled my resolve and strode forward, like a true Gryffindor, and sat down across from him.
It had been awhile since I'd seen him this early for breakfast, and I thought it might have had something to do with the day before. We had not really said much after we'd entered the common room, and I'd gone to bed exhausted and spent earlier than just about everyone else. So when he looked up at me with a concerned smile on his face, the corners of his green eyes crinkling slightly, I could not help smiling back.
"Morning, Hermione."
"Morning, Harry." I helped myself to some fried sausage and some toast.
"Are you…alright?"
I set down my glass of juice and looked him in the eye. "Better, at least."
He nodded, and suddenly he looked like he was fishing for something to say. I didn't feel as bad about it, then, because it seemed a bit awkward for him too.
"That was an ingenious use of that spell, you know," I pointed out, for lack of anything better to say. He ducked his head slightly at the praise.
"Wasn't really thinking at that point, so…"
"You have good instincts, then," I said.
Harry shrugged. "Or maybe I'm just lucky."
"I'll grant you that," I laughed, and suddenly the conversation was much easier. "I'm just glad you showed up when you did."
"Me too," he replied, looking at his plate. I wanted him to look at me so I could see what he was thinking, but I didn't press. As we started eating, the other first years began to come in. A few minutes later, Harry suddenly looked up, and I returned his gaze.
"Ron and I saw Snape heading for the forbidden corridor last night, when were looking for you," Harry whispered, so the students sitting around us wouldn't here. "And then this morning when I passed him in the entrance hall, he was limping badly."
I arched an eyebrow. "And you think it has something to do with the Cerberus?"
"Er-yeah, is that what it's called?"
"Yes, and it's supposed to be a mythological creature. Of course something like that could be found at Hogwarts…"
"D'ya think he was trying to get at whatever it's guarding?" Harry wondered.
"It's possible, but we don't know what it is, do we? Or why he would want whatever it is? So I don't think we can say for sure without knowing more," I explained. I didn't know why Harry was so hung up on this mystery, and I didn't want him to go off, half-cocked, in an attempt to solve it. He needed much more information.
"You're right, of course," Harry sighed, and picked at his food some more. He looked morose.
"What's bothering you?" I asked.
"Well…nah, it's just going to sound petty to you," he said.
"What? Why is that?"
He sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Parts of it stuck straight up, and I was in danger of cracking up. Harry apparently had even more issues with his hair than I did.
"I'm actually kind of nervous about the upcoming Quidditch game," he said. I just stared at him. Quidditch was bothering him after he'd just gone up against a troll? Merlin, the boy needed to get his priorities straight.
He must have seen my look: "See," he almost whined, and I wanted to laugh again. "I knew you'd think it was stupid."
"No, Harry," I said, rolling my eyes at his…boyishness. I turned to my bag and rummaged around in it for a few moments. "Here," I told him, pulling out Quidditch Through the Ages. "You can borrow this for as long as you want. It's actually rather informative. Might ease some of your stress."
"Thanks," he said, slowly, taking the book from me. He looked like he was going to say something else, but Ron came in just then, and the awkwardness was back.
Honestly, I wasn't sure how I felt about Ron. He had treated me like trash for so long, and with very little reason, that I didn't think I could get over some of the things he'd said very quickly. But, he had put his life on the line for me, so I guess he deserved some benefit of the doubt. I ignored the tiny voice in my head that told me Ron had simply been following Harry's orders. I was too young for such cynicism.
"Hello, Ron," I said, putting my best foot forward.
"`Lo, Hermione," he mumbled, shoveling food onto his plate.
Harry and I glanced at each other, and his amused expression caused me to smile. Ron didn't see any of that; he was too busy devouring everything on the table.
"So Ron," Harry said.
"Huh?" Ron grunted, through his food.
"Hermione and I were just talking about Quidditch," Harry said, tapping the cover of the book. Ron glanced at it and then swallowed everything in his mouth in one big gulp.
"I've actually read that," he said, taking a swig of juice. "That's about the only book at the Burrow that I've read."
"The Burrow?" I wondered.
"Oh," Ron said, pinking a little. "That's what people call my house-dunno why, really."
"I see," I said, storing away that little tidbit of information.
"But I have read that," Ron continued. "It's pretty good. You'll like it."
Before anything more was said, post arrived, and we all looked up as usual to see the owls stream into the Great Hall. It was something of a daily tradition, even though I only received letters from my parents once every two weeks or so.
We watched as they dispersed through the Hall, and within a few seconds three identical owls stopped in front of Harry, Ron, and I. We all kind of looked at each other, probably each wondering if the previous day's events had caused this, and then took the parchment from our respective owls. Mine said:
Dear Miss Granger
Following Potions and lunch, I would be much obliged if you would meet with me. Two lefts and two rights from the Gryffindor tower will take you to a statue of a gargoyle, which guards my office. Respectfully hoping to see you around one o'clock!
Yours,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Chief Warlock, Wizengamot
Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards
A quick instant of panic washed over me as I read the letter, thinking that I must have done something terrible to warrant a personal meeting with Dumbledore himself, but when I looked up at Harry and Ron, I saw similar looks of shock (and even awe) on their faces. My bad feeling decreased, but I was still uneasy. I knew this had something to do with the troll.
"Professor Dumbledore?" I asked, and they both nodded.
"It has to be about yesterday," Harry said, looking pensive.
I agreed with him, and Ron said nothing. He looked a little green, as if meeting with Dumbledore was somehow a very bad thing, but I decided right then and there to approach this with an open mind. To me, Dumbledore had seemed more like a figurehead, so actually meeting the man might give me some perspective on a few of the problems I'd noticed at Hogwarts. Then again, looking at his titles at the bottom of the letter, I could see how his attention was not always focused on the school, but that was not an excuse, in my mind.
We left for Potions soon after that, and as we were the first students there, well ahead of the start of class, Harry took out Quidditch Through the Ages and started reading the first chapter. I opened the second year Potions textbook, because I'd already thoroughly been through first year's, and immersed myself. I'm not sure what Ron was doing, though it looked like twiddling his thumbs might have been more exciting.
Snape swept in as usual just as class was set to begin, limping as Harry had told me at breakfast. He stopped halfway to the front of the room, focused on Harry, and narrowed his eyes.
"Potter!"
Harry looked up from the book. "Sir?"
"What's that you've got there?"
Harry closed the book and pushed it forward a bit. "Just a library book, sir."
Snape limped over and snatched up the book. He flipped to the inside back cover, read it for a few seconds, and then snapped the book closed. He had a nasty smirk on his face.
"This book is checked out to Miss Granger. Students are not allowed carry with them books other students have taken from the library. One point from Gryffindor." And then he turned toward the front again, book still in hand. Harry clenched his jaw, but I knew he wanted to say something. I was pretty sure Snape had just made that rule up, but there was nothing I could do. If I argued with him, he'd just take more points. I just hoped I'd be able to get the book back.
Potions passed uneventfully after that; I made another flawless Potion with Seamus, who had been my partner ever since Sally left. Neville had been working alone for several weeks now, and he seemed to be withdrawing more from the rest of us. I knew I'd have to sit him down and force him to talk about what was bothering him at some point, but the opportunity just hadn't presented itself yet.
After we'd left the classroom and were ascending back toward the Great Hall, Harry told us he was going to go back for the book, and that he'd meet Ron and I for lunch. I hadn't been alone with Ron since-well, ever. So I wasn't sure how our conversation was going to proceed; turns out it didn't proceed at all, because he barely said two words to me the entire time Harry was gone. I like to think he was feeling bad about everything he'd said to me, but who knows?
Five minutes later Harry rushed into the Great Hall, without the book, and by the look on his face I knew he was dying to tell us something. He slipped onto the bench next to me and across from Ron, and then leaned forward conspiratorially.
"Guess what?"
"What?" Ron asked. I smiled at the predictability.
"I walked back into the Potions classroom and Snape was rubbing some kind of ointment on his leg, and it was all cut up and bloody!"
Ron and I looked at each other. "And…?" Ron wondered.
"Don't you see? He'd tried to get past that thing-"
"Cerberus-" I offered.
"Yeah, that, on Halloween! Ron and I saw him heading in that direction!"
"Wonder what's under that trap door that's so important?" Ron asked. "You said Hagrid took something from Gringotts over the summer…but wasn't that a really small package?"
"Ron," I said. He blinked and looked at me, passivity written all over his face. "Valuable things don't have to be large. Could be a precious gem or something."
"In any case, Snape is after what it's guarding…I'd bet my broomstick he let the troll in, to make a diversion!" Harry whispered excitedly.
I considered his statement as rationally as I could, and I had to dismiss it as wishful thinking on Harry's part. Surely a member of Dumbledore's staff, at a school for children, wouldn't be trying to steal something guarded by a Cerberus. It didn't make any sense at all. For a moment I considered that Snape might have been testing defenses, but I shrugged that one off too. There was more to this than Harry's simplistic accusations, but we just did not know enough information to proceed.
"No, I don't think so," I said. "He does seem to have a grudge against you, Harry, but I don't think he would steal something Dumbledore wanted to keep safe."
"Do you think all teachers are saints or something, Hermione?" Ron asked, and I heard some snappishness in his voice. Harry cleared his throat and Ron's eyes pivoted to him for a second and then back to me. "Well?"
"Of course not, Ron," I responded. "But I don't think we know enough yet about what the Cerberus is guarding and why Dumbledore wants it kept safe to start throwing around accusations."
"Yes, but-" he started.
"But," I overrode him, "we should certainly keep an open mind." He looked like he was going to say something else; instead, he closed his mouth and nodded. Conversation moved onto other topics at that point.
---
When Harry, Ron, and I rounded the final corner on our way to the Headmaster's office an hour later, we were surprised to see Dumbledore leaning up against the gargoyle and enjoying what looked like a lollipop. When he saw us, his face brightened into a smile and he strode in our direction. His long white beard and his amazingly contoured robes trailed out behind him as he came.
"Ah, how nice of you three to join me," he said, stopping in front of us and extending his hand. "Professor-or Headmaster-Albus Dumbledore, at your service."
"Harry Potter, sir," Harry said, shaking his hand.
"Ron Weasley."
"Hermione Granger, Headmaster."
"Delighted!" Dumbledore said, and then beckoned us to follow him back to his office. "Candy cane!" he told the gargoyle, and it moved, very lifelike, aside so we could enter. "Password, you know," he told us. Once past the gargoyle, we stepped onto a moving spiral staircase, one that took us around and around a central pillar for ten or fifteen feet and then deposited on a landing where there was another door.
"Just through here," the Headmaster said, and showed us into his office. It was a circular room, more of an ellipse actually, with a high domed ceiling. Two panoramic windows behind Dumbledore's large oak desk opened out on the grounds and the forests and mountains far beyond. The curved walls were lined with magical portraits of countless witches and wizards, and the ones that weren't asleep were looking down at us with interest. There were also several tables off to one side filled with the strangest objects I had ever seen, each whirring or buzzing lightly.
That's when I noticed the gorgeous red bird perched behind Dumbledore's desk; it trilled just as I made eye contact with it and the music felt like it was a part of me. Harry and Ron jumped a little, as if they had just seen it too.
"Sir, what is that?" I wondered. I had never seen something so wonderful and beautiful.
He looked where I had pointed. "That is Fawkes, Miss Granger; a phoenix, and my familiar."
My eyes widened upon hearing that information. According to Hogwarts, A History only a handful of witches or wizards during the past millennium had phoenix familiars, and that was because who they bonded with had to be nearly pure of heart and soul. Dumbledore was one of the few, it looked like.
"Please, have a seat," he said, and flicked his wand at the empty space in front of his desk. Three squashy armchairs appeared out of thin air-an impressive display of magic, however cavalier for Dumbledore-so we each took one.
"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked, seating himself behind his desk. Ron took one of the yellow candies, but Harry and I declined.
"Now that we have sufficiently disposed of the formalities, I believe we can settle down and get to business," the Headmaster told us, steepling his hands in front of his face. I swear his bright blue eyes twinkled at us.
"Sir, is this about yesterday?" Harry wanted to know.
"Yes, partly," Dumbledore confirmed. "You are very astute, Harry. But there are a few other things I would like to discuss as well. First and foremost of which is I would like to know how you are adjusting to Hogwarts."
We looked at each other. None of us wanted to go first. Finally, I looked back to Dumbledore and met his eyes.
"It's been tough at times, sir," I told him. "Especially for me, since I'm a Muggleborn. There seem to be a lot of things magical children, and the staff, take for granted about everyday life in the magical world, things that I couldn't have possibly known. And we were just kind of thrown into everything, without any kind of orientation. I couldn't even mail a letter to my parents without asking another student how." I hadn't meant to be quite so negative, but some of the problems I'd noticed about Hogwarts just leapt out.
"I see," he said, thoughtfully. Then he looked to Harry. "You look like you want to say something. Go on," he prompted. I watched Dumbledore carefully, because something about this meeting wasn't ringing true. Why was Albus Dumbledore soliciting the opinions of a few first years?
"I kind of agree with Hermione, sir. I grew up with Muggles"-Dumbledore's blue eyes flashed-"so I've noticed some of the same things. I don't want anyone holding my hand, but the first few weeks were…different. Maybe an orientation like she said would have helped."
"And what about you, Mr. Weasley?"
"Well," Ron said, leaning forward slightly. "Hogwarts is in my blood, I think. Charlie, Bill, Percy, Fred, and George…mum and dad even…they've all told me things about this place over the years, so it almost seemed familiar when I came here."
Dumbledore leaned back and looked up at the rounded ceiling for a few moments. "I understand that you, Miss Granger, and you, Mr. Potter, have still managed to climb to the very top of your class. The academics weren't an adjustment?"
"It's just like learning anything else, sir. Put in a little hard work and the results come," Harry said, and I nodded.
"Classes were and are fine," I said. "School is school. It's just the world itself is different, so other things have been hard."
The Headmaster leaned forward once again, and his face looked a little more careworn than before. "Is there a reason why your mother will be disappointed with your academic performance, Mr. Weasley?"
I was surprised at the direct question, but I silently applauded him for confronting Ron. Perhaps some motivation from Dumbledore himself would knock some sense into Ron. He flamed red to the very roots of his fiery hair.
"Maybe," Ron mumbled.
"I myself have been subject to your mother's unhappiness on more than one occasion, so I know how uncomfortable that will be for you. I trust that you understand what I'm saying?"
"Work harder?"
"Indeed, Mr. Weasley. You said yourself that Hogwarts was not much of an adjustment, so I would like to see your marks reflect that. Your brothers-Fred and George, I believe-get into their fair share of trouble, but don't let them fool you. They are some of the most brilliant students in their year."
Looking properly chastised and embarrassed, Ron nodded and looked at the floor. Dumbledore turned to me after.
"Now, I understand what you've said about adjustment issues. But Minerva-Professor McGonagall-has also told me on more than one occasion that she sees you alone all of the time. Is there a reason for this?"
I guess it was my turn for the direct question, because I had not been expecting that. And truthfully, I did not want to talk about it much, especially with the Headmaster, of all people. I bit my lip.
"It's…hard…for me to connect sometimes," I finally said. Dumbledore just arched a white eyebrow at me. I wasn't getting off that easily. "I don't know how to explain it, Professor. Sometimes I feel like I'm watching from outside my own body, and I don't like what I see. The petty rivalries between houses, the obsession with Quidditch, and favoritism I've witnessed several professors expressing…" I trailed off. I hope I hadn't gone too far.
"You cite `the obsession with Quidditch' as a reason for your isolation," Dumbledore said, looking over our shoulders. "Is that because you do not like the sport, or because you feel like you have nothing to contribute? Or something else?"
I sighed. I felt like he was missing the point, but I wasn't going to tell him that. "I just can't talk about the same silly things day after day. I came to Hogwarts to engage in the magical world and learn absolutely everything I could, not to discuss the seven hundred ways to commit a foul in a Quidditch game."
"Is that not a facet of said magical world?" Dumbledore returned. Was I having a debate with the Headmaster?
"Of course it is, but not the only facet-Quidditch was a bad example, I suppose. And I'm sure some of it is my own fault, Professor, considering how driven even I know I am, but I'm not all bad…" Things were starting to get personal now, and if we continued down this road, I might cry. And I did not want that to happen.
"No, you most definitely are not," Dumbledore said, staring at me for several moments. He was twinkling again. Then he turned to Harry.
"I would like your opinion on all of this, Harry-may I call you Harry?"
Harry nodded, but looked confused. "My opinion, sir?"
"Yes. Do you think I've been unreasonable by asking these questions?"
Harry looked at both Ron and I before locking eyes with Headmaster. "No, I don't think so, but no one is perfect. We all have our problems."
"Exactly," Dumbledore said, leaning forward. "No one is perfect. The single most important thing I wish I could teach to students is to accept each other for who you are, not who you want them to be." He seemed to be glossing over the blatant prejudice people like Malfoy displayed, but I said nothing. "That would not solve all of the problems, indeed not even most of them, but it would go a long way for making Hogwarts a better learning environment.
"But, alas, I'm just the barmy old Headmaster, and it is not my job to force pearls of wisdom upon my charges. I keep things running as smoothly as I can from a distance, watching over what happens in this school as carefully as I can. But sometimes even I miss something, and I think that has happened this year."
"What did you miss?" I asked, after a short silence.
"The three of you," Dumbledore said, quite simply. "Your dynamic could be something very special, and might be someday, but for now my lack of intervention has hindered that. What I'm saying," he continued, seeing my confused look, "is I wish it didn't take a troll for all of you to realize each other's worth. We're all humans, after all, and there is absolutely no reason to treat each other as poorly as I've seen and heard about."
Ron's face had gone scarlet from embarrassment again, but I had no sympathy for him at that moment. Dumbledore continued to surprise me, though, with his insights.
"Not one of you is individually responsible for what has happened, but that does not mean each of you is not to blame, either. Something we all need to work on, I think, is putting ourselves in someone else's shoes. For myself, I should have realized a long time ago how traumatic coming to Hogwarts the first time is for Muggleborns, but it never occurred to me.
"For you, Ron-is that ok?-it might be appropriate to look at things from Miss Granger's angle when you think she is being stubborn about something. And you, Hermione-alright?-it could help you to view Hogwarts through someone who's born and bred in the magical world if things get confusing; and then ask someone! Come to me with your questions! Or any of the staff for that matter. Don't just let things get worse and worse. I can't bear to see my students unhappy or uncomfortable, and when Myrtle came to me yesterday and told me there had been a girl crying in the third floor bathroom all day, I had to find out exactly what was going on.
"Harry, you might want to take a more active role amongst your classmates; perhaps if you had, these issues would have never happened. We may never know, but the point is, if you see a problem, do something about it! Intervene, within school rules of course, and then tell an adult about it.
"We're all here for you, no matter how aloof we may appear from time to time. All of your teachers have responsibilities to family and careers outside of their classrooms, but they will make time for you if you ask for it. I am away on Wizengamot and ICW business about thirty percent of the school year, but when I'm here, I am always willing to listen to my students."
Fawkes trilled quietly in the ensuing silence, restoring a sense of calm to the room once again after the Headmaster's lengthy and impassioned speech. Ron and Harry looked as bewildered as I felt. This was not how I thought this meeting would go.
"Do you all understand what I am trying to say?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yessir."
"Yes."
"Yes, Headmaster."
"Good. Now if you don't mind, Harry, I would like to take a look at exactly what transpired in that bathroom yesterday," Dumbledore said, standing up and going to a cabinet on one side of the room.
"W-what?" Harry asked. "How?"
When Dumbledore turned around, he had what looked like a shallow stone basin in his hands. He came back to his desk and set it down. I could see a weird translucent substance swirling around inside, and when Dumbledore touched it with his wand, it started glowing.
"With this," he said. "It's called a Pensieve, and it can show people your memories as they happened. I believe you and Hermione are familiar with films?" Dumbledore asked. We both nodded. "This will project the scene above my desk in a similar fashion, though it will be in three dimensions."
"How does it work?" Harry asked, and I was genuinely curious about it as well. Nothing I'd read said anything about a Pensieve. Ron looked like he'd already seen one in action, though.
"Place your wand tip to your temple, concentrate as hard as you can on the specific memory, and then slowly draw your wand away from your head. Your magic, and the Pensieve, will do the rest."
Harry withdrew his wand from his pocket, placed it against his head, and closed his eyes. After a brief pause, he began to draw it away from his temple and attached the end of his wand was a pearly white string. It extended to about a foot before it dropped away and swung from the tip of his wand.
"Place it in here and gently shake it off your wand."
Harry did as he was told. "I won't…forget it now, will I?"
"No, Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "It is merely a copy of your memory," he explained swirling the substance with his wand. "Now we shall watch what happened." He tapped the side of the basin and immediately an image of Harry and Ron sprinting through the corridors filled out above his desk.
It focused on Snape rushing off toward the forbidden corridor, as Harry had. Dumbledore looked quite unsurprised by this, so I just kept watching. There was the troll…and they locked it in, only to hear my scream for help. It went on from there, and the troll lay dead on the floor in about twenty seconds or so. It had seemed much longer during the experience. The image disappeared just as McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell rushed in.
"I must congratulate you, Harry," Dumbledore said, after a moment's silence. "Your quick thinking probably saved three lives." He sounded somber and…grateful?
Harry said nothing. I don't think he knew how to respond to praise. He just ducked his head a bit.
"And your bravery, Ron, is commendable. Willingly distracting a mountain troll is something most adults would not attempt."
"And Hermione, I'm sorry you even had to be in that bathroom. It has been and always will be one of my many shortcomings that I am not perfect, and I apologize most sincerely."
I didn't know what to say. "Thank you, sir…"
He inclined his head in my direction. "I'm sure you are all wondering how the mountain troll came into Hogwarts, and let me assure you that I am working on that problem.
"I think that is all for today, though. I hope this has been as illuminating for you as it was for me. If you have questions or concerns in the future, any at all, do not hesitate to bring them to Professor McGonagall or myself."
We left Dumbledore's office that day with a lot on our minds. He had given us much to think about; for me, he had showed that at least the staff was there if needed, and that isolation was not the only solution. Harry and Ron were very quiet for the rest of the day, so I assumed they were mulling over the Headmaster's words, too.
---
Routine returned to our lives for the next three weeks, as classes, homework, and Quidditch practice filled out our schedules. I was on more amicable terms with Harry and Ron than I'd ever been, but I missed Sally, and Neville was still keeping to himself. Harry and I continued to excel in our classes-we were number one and two by a mile, over all of the Ravenclaws even-and the Headmaster's words must have struck a chord in Ron, because he actually managed to get all of his work done. Granted, it was not a groundbreaking achievement, but I think he might have begun to have more success at the practical aspect of magic because he was doing the theory.
We never talked directly about our meeting with Dumbledore, but his words were always there underneath our interactions. The more I thought about what the Headmaster had said, the more I realized that he was not as infallible as most `sources' would have one believe, and that he might have been trying to tell us that. By placing his own shortcomings in the context of our recent trouble, he was humanizing himself and placing himself out there for us at the same time. I still thought he was every enigmatic, but some of the mystery had evaporated that day.
As November twenty-third approached, Harry's nervousness about Quidditch increased dramatically, to the point where he nearly stopped eating. The morning of his game against Slytherin, he didn't touch the food. A few minutes into the meal I frowned at him.
"Harry, you've got to eat some breakfast."
"I'm not hungry," he said.
"Come on, just a bit of toast or something," I prodded. He would end up feeling much worse playing on an empty stomach.
"Hermione, I don't want anything," he said, staring sadly at the platters of food.
"For me, Harry? One piece of toast?" I asked. His eyes met mine and there was a long silence. I noticed little speckles of flint mixed in with the emerald that I hadn't seen before.
"Oh, fine," he sighed, and took a piece of toast. He ended up eating three pieces and two sausages. I smiled contentedly.
After breakfast Harry left for the Quidditch pitch and the locker rooms, and I joined Ron and the rest of the Gryffindor students as we headed for the stands. Dean and Seamus picked out seats in the top row, so Ron and I followed them up there. Lavender, Parvati, and Lily sat with some second year girls, and Neville was by himself. I stopped on my way up the stands next to him.
"Neville, come join us," I said, motioning with my hand up the stairs. He just looked at me.
"Come oooon," I repeated.
"Ok," he said, quite reluctantly, and followed me up to the other boys. Dean and Seamus had made a banner that said POTTER FOR PRESIDENT in large, bold letters. I thought it was nice so I charmed the letters to flash different colors. The boys ooh'd and ahh'd, but it was a simple spell, really. Just point your wand and incant luminus.
We cheered as the players came onto the field, and shortly thereafter the game began. It was fast and violent, and it took me a few minutes to calm down enough to look away from Harry, even for a few moments. He circled high above the game on his broom, searching for the Snitch. Everyone once in awhile he'd have to dodge a Bludger, but the Weasley twins seemed fairly capable Beaters.
"Budge up there, move along," a familiar said, about five minutes into the game.
"Hagrid!" I called out, waving him over to us. There was plenty of room on the top row for his massive bulk.
"Bin watchin' from me hut," he said, lifting a pair of binoculars to his eyes. "But it's not the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"
"Nope," Ron said. "Harry hasn't done much, yet."
"Kept outta trouble, though, and that's somethin'," Hagrid said, chuckling a bit. He turned his binoculars upward to look at Harry.
Suddenly, the announcer's voice caught my attention: "…wait a moment-was that the Snitch?" A palpable wave of excitement flew through the crowd as we all stood to find the tiny gold ball, and all attention focused on Harry and the Slytherin Seeker. Harry leaned forward and went into a dive; the other Seeker had been in front of him, but Harry's superior broom afforded him the advantage.
"GO HARRY!" I screamed, joined by the cries of all those around me, as he reached out his hand. Then, without warning, a big, burly Slytherin flew directly into Harry's way. If Harry hadn't reacted as quickly, he would have crashed very hard into the other student. As it was, he grazed the Slytherin's broom and was sent cart wheeling through the air for a moment. Before I could even fret about him falling off, he had righted himself.
"FOUL! WHAT IN MERLIN'S BLOODY NAME WAS THAT?" Ron screamed, and I was too angry to even think about his bad language. The Slytherin could have really hurt Harry!
The referee and our flight instructor, Madam Hooch, awarded Gryffindor a free shot at the goals because of the blatant foul. Dean was still yelling at the field as one of our Chasers lined up for the shot:
"Send him off, ref! Red card!"
"What are you talking about, Dean?" Ron wondered. I guess I should have expected that Ron wouldn't know a thing about football, considering it was a Muggle sport.
"Red card!" Dean exclaimed. "In football you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"
"But this is Quidditch," Ron reminded him.
"They oughta change the rules," Hagrid put in, agreeing with Dean. "Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."
The game went on from there. Both Keepers were doing a good job blocking shots, and the Snitch was nowhere to be seen. I had to admit the game was fairly exciting and interesting, but it was chilly way up here in the stands. I hoped Harry found the Snitch soon.
"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled, a bit later, looking through his binoculars up at where Harry was circling. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom…but he can't have…"
I looked up and tried to focus on Harry's small form, and sure enough his broom was bucking and shaking around very violently. He looked like was doing everything he could to stay on the Nimbus. My heart started to pound-he was so high up, if he fell off…
And then the broom tipped right over, dumping Harry off; my heart must have missed a beat, but Harry managed to grab onto the shaft with his hands. He was hanging from his broom probably three hundred feet in the air, with nothing below him except air and hard earth. My hands flew to my face as the broom bucked again, causing him to let go with one hand. Five fingers were all that stood between him and falling!
"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus wondered, nearly as out of breath as I felt. All around us, people were looking and pointing at Harry.
"Can't have," Hagrid said, nervousness pervading his voice. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick `cept powerful Dark magic-no kid could do that ter a Nimbus Two Thousand."
Something clicked in my brain just then, something that I'd read in either the second or third year Defense text book, and I grabbed the binoculars from Hagrid's hands. I focused on the crowd and panned quickly around the entire stadium. I stopped when I reached the staff section.
"What are you doing?" Ron wondered. His voice was shaking.
"I knew it!" I exclaimed. "Snape-look." I handed the binoculars to Ron, and he looked directly across the pitch to where Snape was. He saw what I had, which was Snape staring at Harry and muttering something. The man wasn't even blinking.
"He's doing something-jinxing the broom," I explained.
"What should we do?" Ron asked, lowering the binoculars. He glanced up at Harry (the twins were now circling beneath Harry to catch him if he fell, I noticed) and looked sick.
"Leave it to me," I assured him, and rushed away down the stands. When I reached the bottom, I sprinted with everything I had around the walkway. I couldn't let Snape do this to Harry! Perhaps everything Harry had been saying about Snape was true, if the man was trying to jinx Harry off his broom.
When I was one section away from Snape, I turned and raced up to the top of the stands again. I didn't want him to know I was coming, so I would descend toward him from behind. At the top, I turned again, and before I could stop, I had run headlong into Professor Quirrell, who was also looking up at Harry. He gave a cry of surprise and fell over the top row of students, but I didn't even stop to apologize. My mission was too important.
At Snape's section, I turned again, and slowed down a bit. I entered the row behind him, crouching low, and took my wand out of my pocket. He was still staring up at Harry, muttering something under his breath. It sounded like Latin.
"Incendio," I whispered, pointing my wand at his cloak. Then I turned and ran; once I was far enough away to avoid suspicion, I looked back. Snape had just noticed that he was on fire, and whipped out his wand to douse the flames. He looked appalled.
I looked up and saw that Harry was able to fly properly once again.
"Yes!" I cried, jumping up and pumping my fist into the air. I ignored the strange looks from students around me. Who cares what they thought? I'd saved Harry!
As I sprinted back toward my seat, I watched as Harry suddenly went into another dive. Everyone had been so concerned with his recovery that they didn't even notice the dive until he was twenty feet from the ground. He pulled up at the last second, and I thought he was going to puke; he went down to all fours and gagged, and then coughed the Golden Snitch out into his waiting hand. The game was over, Harry had caught the Snitch!
"I've got it!" I heard Harry yell, and chaos erupted in the stands. Turns out that the Slytherin captain wanted to debate the legitimacy of Harry's win, since he had caught it in his mouth, but he was never going to win that argument. The announcer was screaming out the result of the game: Gryffindor 170, Slytherin 60.
Due to the confusion when the game ended in, Harry was able to slip away from the locker rooms quickly and met Ron and I just outside. Hagrid asked us three if we wanted to have some tea in his hut, and we agreed. Once we each had a strong cuppa in hand, and were comfortably seated around the table, the conversation turned toward the broom incident.
"What d'ya think happened?" Harry wondered. "Is my broom faulty?" He looked crestfallen at the possibility.
"Nah," Ron told him. "It was Snape. Hermione saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering; he wouldn't take his eyes off you."
"Rubbish!" Hagrid said, looking down at all of us. "Why would Professor Snape do somethin' like that?"
A thick silence fell over the hut as I wondered how we were going to tell Hagrid our suspicions. Harry spoke first, though, and it was quickly apparent he had decided on the truth.
"We found out something," Harry explained. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween, and it bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."
Hagrid almost choked on his tea cup. "How do you three know about Fluffy?"
"Fluffy?" I wondered. "You have a Cerberus named Fluffy?" I was incredulous. It boggled my mind.
"Yeah-it's mine-bought him off some Greek wizard I met in the Hog's Head las' year-I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-" But he cut himself off.
"Yes?" Harry asked, leaning forward.
"Now, don't ask me anymore. That's top secret, that is," Hagrid said, doing his best to sound gruff. He sounded more frustrated that he'd said that much.
"But Snape's trying to steal it," Ron reminded him. Harry and I nodded in agreement.
"Nonsense!" Hagrid said, loudly. "Professor Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."
"So why did he just try to kill Harry?" I wondered. I didn't know why Hagrid was being so stubborn about all of this, because the evidence was definitely there. "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid; you have to keep eye contact, and Snape was not blinking at all! Ron and I both saw him!" My voice had risen considerably by the end without meaning to, and Harry and Ron were looking at me with awe.
"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" Hagrid replied, just as vehemently. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Professor Snape wouldn' try ter kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh-yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin'. That is between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel-"
"So!" Harry cried, cutting off Hagrid's admonishment. "There's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"
Hagrid's face turned red and he told us we should be getting back to the castle. He seemed angry at both us and himself. Harry and Ron spent the entire trip back to the common room bad-mouthing Snape, but I considered Hagrid's words. I was not convinced Snape had nothing to do with this, but I conceded the point that there was more going on than we understood. Perhaps these were the type of concerns Professor Dumbledore wanted us to bring to him, but I stopped that train of thought in its tracks. We weren't even supposed to know about Fluffy (I snorted at the highly inappropriate name) or that it was guarding something.
The plot, one could say, had thickened.
-->