A/N: The readers have spoken! Luna shall remain in Ravenclaw by a vote of 29-11. And I must say, I think the poll was a resounding success. Many of you justified your choice, which provided me with some great insight. I've been keeping this story's chapters the same as canon's so far, but I've had to split the Norbert chapter (pages 228 - 241 US edition) into two parts. It would have been too long (this first part is 11,000 words). Hopefully that doesn't bother you!
Chapter Fourteen
Winter Term - Easter Intercession 1992
I couldn't fault Harry's logic, but I was very uneasy about bringing these concerns to Dumbledore. Anything we brought to the Headmaster regarding the Stone would immediately reveal to him just how adventurous we really had been. And that meant Dumbledore would also know how many school policies we had deliberately ignored.
Neville seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "But Harry…you know I don't like what's going on, it all seems rather fishy to me-d'ya really think we should tell Dumbledore everything we know?"
Harry appeared to consider it for a short while, staring once again into the shimmering contents of the Pensieve. Eventually, he shrugged his shoulders and slowly nodded his head.
"Why not? This whole thing is beyond us now…"
"It was from the start," Sally reminded him, and he conceded the point by inclining his head.
"True, very true. So I guess we should have gone to him much sooner."
"I don't really think that's what Sally meant, Harry," I told him, cottoning on to her train of thought. "If Dumbledore finds out how much we know, he could just expel all of us." My heart raced a little at that thought. In exactly what kind of mess had we mired ourselves?
"He wouldn't do that," Harry responded, sounding quite sure.
Ron, however, wasn't quite as confident: "You never know what he'll do, Harry. He's one of the most powerful wizards alive, and we're messing in his business and telling him about it…?" I glanced at Ron as he trailed off, sensing some genuine apprehension. It seemed as if Ron still idolized the Headmaster.
"It might be best to keep this to ourselves," Sally said, agreeing with the general tone of the conversation. Harry looked disappointed for some reason, though I was not sure if it was directed at anyone in particular.
"I think so too," Neville added, looking slightly apologetic.
"How can he argue with the memory, though?" Harry asked. He looked at all of us in turn, leaning back against the desk and crossing his arms. The pose struck me as very professorial.
"He can't," Sally said. "But that doesn't mean he'll like what he sees."
"And he has absolute power here, Harry. If he thinks we've meddled too much, then who knows?" I told him, rhetorically highlighting the possibility of severe repercussions.
I was torn. I wanted to help Harry and figure out the mystery of who was really after the Stone, but I did not want to jeopardize my place at Hogwarts doing so. Deep down I didn't think Dumbledore would react severely-or severely enough to expel us-but I was fairly sure he wouldn't be happy. He had explicitly warned everyone at the start-of-year feast away from the third floor corridor, and we had figuratively gone way past that.
Harry sighed, dropping his head toward his chest. "I understand. I don't want any of you to get into trouble. I am still bringing this to Dumbledore, though," he affirmed. "I'll understand if you don't want to come."
An uncomfortable silence settled over the room as, for the very first time, Harry's leadership over all of us asserted itself. None of us realized it then, but this moment was something akin to our first test in his young, naive eyes. What he was really doing was putting forth an ultimatum: go with him to Dumbledore and show solidarity in this little quest or head back to the common room and let school rules stand in the way of justice.
We were all so young and involved way over our heads, so the truth of situation was lost on all of us in such explicit terms, even on Harry. I think I might have sensed something of Harry's subconscious thought process, however, because I paused momentarily to consider my response.
"I don't think I can come," Sally said. "You and Hermione just got me back into Hogwarts and I don't want to put that at risk. I'm sorry, Harry," she said, and I could hear the sincerity in her voice. She looked crestfallen at not being able to go with him.
He smiled at her. "That's ok, Sally. You don't have to be sorry."
"I'm going to have to pass too," Neville said. "This doesn't seem like a good idea to me."
"Ok," Harry said. He then looked at Ron and me. "Well?"
"This is the worst bloody idea," Ron muttered, "but you know me. I'm in."
I decided as Harry's eyes settled upon me that I couldn't let him down.
"I'm coming," I told him. "Dumbledore won't be happy, but this is something he has to know, even if we don't know all that's going on."
He smiled again, and this time it reached his eyes. "Thanks."
He turned to the desk to collect the Pensieve and then started moving toward the door. He looked back at us.
"We should go now," he said. "It's getting late, and I don't know how long this will take."
"Alright," I said.
We parted ways with Sally and Neville in the corridor and watched for a moment as they headed back to the common room. Sally looked over her shoulder and met my eyes, but then they turned a corner and were gone.
The three of us strolled through the castle to the Headmaster's office with very little conversation. We all had many things on our minds, so it was understandable, but it was disconcerting nonetheless. I wanted to ask Harry how he intended to approach this whole thing, but the moment never seemed right. He walked with a determined purpose and his head high, so I assumed that he knew how he would break the ice.
At some point it must have started raining again, after the brief respite during the match, because the patter of rain upon the castle reached my ears. It was a lonely sound, magnified by the dark, cold, and empty corridors we were traveling; I looked at Ron behind Harry's back and he was staring at the floor.
Finally, with the sound of rain growing louder all along, we reached the gargoyle outside the Headmaster's office. We stopped in front of the lifelike stone structure.
"Do either of you remember the password?" Ron asked.
"Candy cane," Harry said. I admit that I was impressed he remembered, because our meeting with Dumbledore had been some months before.
Stone eyelids moved upward revealing icy gray eyes that peered intently at us for several moments. Then it spread its wings dramatically, causing us to step back two or three paces, and moved to the side. I saw the revolving staircase through the just-revealed doorway.
"Right then," Harry said, and Ron and I followed him onto the moving staircase. It deposited us onto the landing outside of the Headmaster's office.
We stood there in silence. The wind-blown rain was the only sound reaching my ears. After thirty seconds of standing there and staring at the door, I moved forward and knocked on the wood. I glanced at Harry and he nodded at me. There was possibly some doubt in his eyes, but we had come too far to turn back.
"Enter!" a voice called, one which I knew to be Dumbledore's. The door swung open.
We walked into the Headmaster's office, and I once again marveled at the collection of strange instruments, huge bookshelves, and countless portraits. His marvelous oak desk was still the centerpiece of the room. Fawkes was sleeping on the perch near the window at the back of the office. I could see the heavy rain blowing around the dark night through that same window, and I could hear it cascading against the glass every now and then.
Dumbledore looked up from his desk and his eyebrows crept up in surprise, it seemed, at seeing the three of us. He had on his traveling cloak and there was a packed bag on the corner of his desk. He looked like he was finishing up some work and getting ready to travel somewhere.
"Good evening," he said, closing something on his desk and motioning his hand toward the space in front of us. Three familiar armchairs appeared and he directed us to have a seat. His tone was brisk, albeit still friendly, at this late hour. I wondered where he was going.
"Evening, Professor," Harry said, and I greeted him as well. Ron mumbled something nearly incoherent.
"To what do I owe this pleasure? And so late at night, too," he added, glancing at the large grandfather cloak situated between one of the bookshelves and the window.
Harry removed the Pensieve from his robes and set it on Dumbledore's desk. The Headmaster stared at it and then looked slowly at each of us. Harry's memory still sparkled in the shallow basin.
Dumbledore responded by pushing a small dish of yellow candies toward us.
"Lemon drop?" he asked, reaching for the Pensieve and examining it. I didn't feel like sweets this late at night and both Harry and Ron declined.
"This is splendid," Dumbledore said, putting the Pensieve down on our side of the desk again. "Where did you get it, Harry?"
Harry looked at me. I saw the memory of Christmas in his eyes, which caused me to smile. He acknowledged mine with one of his own.
"Hermione got it for me for Christmas," he answered. Dumbledore's gaze slid to me.
"Ah, how nice. It is a wonderful gift. But I am sure you did not come to see me at this hour to show off your Christmas present-and you will excuse me for being brief, but I have to leave for ICW business very soon."
"ICW?" Ron wondered, looking up from the floor for the first time in awhile.
"International Confederation of Wizards," Dumbledore responded. I rolled my eyes, thinking Ron should have definitely known that. I hadn't even grown up in the Wizarding world and already ICW were well-known initials.
"Oh," Ron said.
"So," Dumbledore continued, leaning forward and crossing his arms on the desk. His blue eyes sparkled at us over his spectacles. "What can I do for you tonight?"
"Well, sir…" Harry started, and then trailed off. He stared at the Pensieve and I waited for him to go on. Dumbledore looked on expectantly, though I saw his eyes dart toward the clock when Harry said nothing more for at least a minute. I started speaking to save the moment.
"Sir, we think something very wrong is going on," I said, and he refocused his attention toward me. "Since last term we've been getting odd hints here and there about something hidden in the castle, and recently we came across evidence that someone is trying to steal it." I hoped I was oblique enough to veil my explicit knowledge of the Stone, but also direct enough to make Dumbledore understand.
His blue eyes hardened; Fawkes twitched on his perch.
"Hogwarts has many secrets," he said, neither confirming nor denying my assumption.
"She does," I agreed, nodding and thinking of the Mirror. "But as with anything, not all secrets can be contained. At the beginning of the year, you mentioned something about the third floor corridor being off limits-"
"For very good reason," he said, interrupting me. This was not going at all how I wanted it to.
"Yes, sir. We know that now. But we know what's behind that locked door, due to some rather unfortunate circumstances…"
I lost my nerve to continue as Dumbledore continued to look more and more formidable. He didn't look angry, exactly, but something about the gradual loss of the friendliness in his face was quite upsetting. After I'd lost my voice, the continued sound of rain filled the office.
"We know about Fluffy, sir," Harry said, after a time, finally coming out and directly stating some of the forbidden knowledge. Dumbledore pursed his lips. "And we know about Nicolas Flamel-"
"These affairs do not concern you-"
"And about the Philosopher's Stone," Harry finished, cutting the Headmaster off. For just an instant, Dumbledore looked shocked, but then relative impassivity fell over his features. Some of the portraits started grumbling, though none of their words were comprehensible and Dumbledore looked sharply up at the walls, silencing them.
When his eyes returned to us, they were cold and had none of their usual twinkle. He still did not appear mad, but this was the impartial Headmaster before us, not the friendly and benevolent old man we'd come to know.
"So you have purposely broken many policies in the pursuit of this knowledge?" he questioned, though it was obviously rhetorical.
Harry shook his head. He was disagreeing with the Headmaster! "No, sir…accidentally, really. We stumbled across Fluffy after losing track of where we were-"
"I locked that door myself."
Harry looked sideways at me. "Hermione and I combined Alohomora spells to open it. We had no other option at the time."
A new emotion flitted across Dumbledore's face and through his eyes, though it faded quickly. It reminded me of the way dad looked when I'd brought home excellent grades from primary school.
"I suppose I do not want to know why you had no other option. Why was an encounter with a Cerberus not sufficient for your curiosity? Surely that would have warned off most sensible students."
I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be offended or not-had Dumbledore just implied we weren't sensible? Beyond that, however, I did not want Harry to bring Hagrid into this conversation. His accidental slips had led to most of our knowledge, and I feared for his job if Dumbledore found that out.
"I noticed a trap door in the very short time we were in that room," I cut in. "The only reason for the dog to be there would be to guard something, and the trap door was proof of that…"
"And?" Dumbledore prompted, clearly becoming impatient with us.
"And we saw Snape rushing off toward that corridor on Halloween," Harry said. "Right after that I saw his leg was all cut and bloody, so he must have had some kind of encounter with the dog."
"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I hope I do not have to keep reminding you-oh yes, Minerva told me of your little slip," Dumbledore added, seeing the look of disbelief on Harry's face. I saw Harry clench his jaw.
"But this still does not explain how you came to know about Nicolas Flamel or the Philosopher's Stone," the Headmaster said, settling into his chair.
"Right in here," Harry said, tapping the side of the Pensieve with his wand. Dumbledore considered it for a moment and then leaned across the desk, swirling it with his wand. As he did so, he looked at Ron.
"You have very little to say, Mr. Weasley." I noticed that Dumbledore had reverted to the use of his surname. That could mean nothing good.
Ron's head snapped to Dumbledore. "Sir?"
"What is your involvement in all of this?"
Would Ron lie? Or would he tell the truth? I was curious to know, and I awaited his response.
The redhead shrugged one shoulder. "I know everything they do, sir."
"When I said you three could become very good friends, this type of thing was not what I had in mind."
The disappointment in his voice was palpable. Ron looked dejected and Harry looked angry, though I could tell he was trying very hard to hide it.
The memory sprang from the Pensieve, projected over the desk, and we watched as the short scene replayed itself. The three of us had already seen it and our shock was muted, but Dumbledore's disbelief and anger were clearly evident after the image faded.
"So you violated yet another fundamental policy by flying into the Forbidden Forest?" Dumbledore asked. The anger that had been absent before was now there, underneath his words.
"It was all so shady, sir," Harry said, defending his actions. "A dark, cloaked figure slinks from the castle toward the forest…of course I want to know what's going on!"
"Harry, you cannot continue to seek answers to whatever questions you have without thought to the consequences. What you find could be dangerous. Did you not think about this before flying over the Forest?"
Harry shrugged. "It wasn't on my mind, sir. And what about that thing in the castle? Isn't that dangerous for the students?"
"There is a reason that corridor is off-limits."
"With simply a locked door? One that Hermione and I could get through? Something's wrong there, sir."
"Indeed, something is. You should not meddle in affairs that do not concern you; none of you should. The Stone and Flamel are my personal business, and quite frankly I'm very disappointed that you would pursue these matters to such an extent."
I deflated. Ron looked absolutely miserable. Harry still plugged on, however.
"Then what about Snape? What was he doing in the forest with Quirrell?"
Dumbledore stood abruptly. He placed his palms on the desk and leaned toward us. His face was cold and unmoving. Fawkes moved restlessly on his perch, still asleep.
"You will refer to him as Professor Snape, Harry. That is one point from Gryffindor for your repeated disrespect of a Hogwarts Professor."
Harry shrugged it off, amazingly. I wasn't sure if I should stop Harry or not. They were almost yelling at each other now.
"But that doesn't answer my question. Don't you think Professor Snape might be trying to steal the Stone?"
Suddenly Dumbledore laughed, and it was a harsh, condescending noise. I hated it, and I could tell both Harry and Ron did not enjoy it, either.
"You do not know anything about this," the Headmaster said. "Making assumptions based on stolen information and uninformed prejudices will lead you to dead ends and wrong conclusions. I think it is best you forget about this entirely," he said, clearly concluding our meeting. He straightened up and organized some things on his desk. When none of us moved after a moment, he looked up expectantly.
"I think that is all for tonight," he said. "I must quickly finish up some things before I leave."
Harry fidgeted for a second. Then he stood from his chair and stared at Dumbledore.
"But if you're gone who will be here to protect the Stone?" There was genuine concern in his voice. "Anyone could go for it!"
An unconcerned smiled settled over the Headmaster's face. "I doubt that. The Stone is perfectly safe, even from those who should not know about it in the first place."
"Wouldn't you be letting your friend down if something happened to it?" Harry asked, and I instantly knew he'd finally crossed the line.
The room rapidly filled with some kind of pressure, and after a moment I realized it was Dumbledore's magical presence. His blue eyes smoldered in their sockets.
"Nothing will happen to the Stone! This discussion is over. Please return to your dormitory or I will be forced to deduct more points from Gryffindor!"
"I can't believe-" Harry started, but I laid a hand on his arm. At the same time, Fawkes woke up, and with a soothing croon, glided to the desk. He landed between Harry and Dumbledore, looking serenely between them. He crooned several more times, and slowly the atmosphere in the room settled.
Harry looked at my hand on his arm and then into my eyes, and I saw something like regret and appreciation mixed in there. When we looked again to Dumbledore, he was idly stroking Fawkes. His expression had softened and turned inward.
"I do have some pressing business overseas," he said, still staring at the Phoenix. Various papers on his desk arranged themselves into two neat piles and then flew into the open bag, which then slid across the desk into his waiting hand. "You will excuse me for not staying and indulging this fantasy any longer. Please see yourselves out," he said.
In the second before Fawkes and Dumbledore flashed out of the office in something of a firestorm, the Headmaster looked at me. I could never be sure, but I thought I might have seen remorse reflected in his eyes. But then they were gone; as the fire faded, we stared at the empty space behind his desk.
Harry exhaled heavily and sat down. He put his head in his hands.
"That could have gone better," he said.
"Yeah," Ron agreed.
"At least we only lost one point," I said. Harry started laughing at that, though it was a hollow sound. In fact, its hollowness mirrored the sound of the rain all around us, still sweeping against the castle.
"Why's it so sodding hard to believe that Snape could be going after the Stone?" Harry asked.
"Dunno," Ron said. "We know he's a git."
"Not that I'm defending Snape," I said, "but what if we really don't know what's going on? What if what you saw in the forest means something completely different and we're just fitting it to what we know?"
Harry and Ron looked at me. "Do you really think that, Hermione?" Harry asked. I shrugged. "Because if you do, then I'll take your word for it. I'll just drop it right here, right now."
Ron scoffed. "After all that, you're just going to forget about it? You saw how he acted, Harry…" he faded away. "Something is going on here."
"Yeah, three kids are messing in his personal affairs," I said.
"Do you, Hermione?" Harry asked, reiterating his question.
I wanted to tell Harry that we should just drop it, that we should forget about this whole thing. I desperately wanted to say that we could move on from this ordeal without looking back and without any reason to believe that perhaps we were making a mistake. I wanted to return to my normal school life, filled with my relatively new friends and all the books I could read.
But I couldn't do that. Something didn't sit right with me, and as Ron pointed out the Headmaster had reacted strangely. He had been angry, but had held back as well. He had even, as far as I could tell, made a quick exit to avoid showing us his remorse. So I slowly shook my head at Harry, and he seemed relieved that I didn't think we should forget everything.
"I think Quirrell and Snape are definitely up to something," I said. "I also think we should have more tact about this in the future. I don't know how much more meddling Dumbledore will tolerate."
"I think he barely tolerated it tonight," Harry said, retrieving the Pensieve from the desk.
"You kids get out of here!" one of the portraits exclaimed, shaking a bony finger at us. Other portraits nodded in agreement and began grumbling at us.
"Don't you think you've caused enough trouble for tonight?"
"Young people have no respect, these days…"
"You should be ashamed of yourselves…"
We heard these words thrown at us as we retreated toward the exit.
"Off to bed now, impudent Gryffindors."
Ron finally snapped: "Oh shut up, ya bloody wankers!"
There were some affronted gasps, but we were out the door before any of them could say anything further. I didn't even have the heart to rebuke Ron for his language. It had been a long and tiring day; all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and close my weary eyes.
----------
Time is a funny thing. One instant I was obsessing over the Stone and the surrounding mystery; the next instant-only a brief shutter-click away-I found myself studying for Winter exams.
Our ill-fated conversation with Dumbledore took place the night of February 22nd. After we left his office that night, we settled on some kind of tacit agreement to let sleeping dogs lie-no pun intended-for the time being and focus on school once again. Neville and Sally were not surprised at how the meeting had turned out, and were quite happy that we'd only lost one point for Gryffindor.
The milieu of everyday life consumed us after that; our days were filled with classes, homework, extracurriculars, Quidditch for Harry, and other mundane things. And because we were so busy, time flew by without us noticing, so that when April rolled around with much nicer weather, I looked back on the preceding month and a half and wondered where it had gone.
The days hadn't seemed to go very fast, but at the end of it all looking back I questioned how the forward movement of our lives had passed by so unnoticed. I think this is a phenomenon everyone feels at some point-just when you want to enjoy life to its fullest and make the most of the days, they accelerate and suddenly you're two months or two years further on.
My feelings mirrored this on the tenth of April, which happened to be a Friday, when Harry and I headed for the library to get in some quality studying time for the impending exams. They ran from the fourteenth to the sixteenth and then we had a three-day weekend for the Easter holidays. Sally, Ron, and Neville had begged off the studying, citing Friday night as a reason. I wasn't worried about them, though. Ron had picked up the slack enough to resemble a student who cared about his classes; Neville was slightly above average and worked hard for his grades, so I knew he would study at some point; Sally had to do well on these exams to be considered caught up, but she had seemed fine in our latest review sessions.
I was the top student in our class and Harry was number two, so we obviously took our studies seriously and not only learned the material, but mastered it as well. Case in point: Harry's annihilation of that troll with the tenus calculus spell, which we had only learned that day in class. At that point in our first year, I already knew that Harry was more powerful than me, but that I would probably be able to retain and effectively use more spells than him. In some fantastic part of my imagination, I realized that we would make a formidable dueling team: his power for sheer offensive might and my depth for defensive prowess.
The two of us entered the library that evening and wound our way through the cramming students to our favorite table near the back, coincidentally also near the Restricted Section. There were very few students back here and it was quiet, which was perfect for us. We could quiz each other without disturbing other students and also read uninterrupted, if needed.
As we pulled out our books and settled in for the evening, I reflected on the fact that we had seen very little of Dumbledore since that rainy February night. He had appeared at very few meals and I had only seen him twice in the corridors since then. He had been cordial both times, either ignoring or moving on from the confrontation. When I asked McGonagall about his absence in late March, she said his business with the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards had been taking him away from Hogwarts very often. It was a strong reminder that the Headmaster was juggling Hogwarts with all of his other responsibilities.
Harry and I started in on One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. After nearly an hour of relentless memorization of various plants and their uses, movement near our table drew our attention to the stacks. I glimpsed a dark, hulking form and reached for my wand without thinking.
"Hagrid!" Harry exclaimed, though it was barely above a whisper. The large, friendly man shuffled into view, plainly concealing something behind his back. One thing Hagrid could never be was inconspicuous.
"What are you doing in the library?" Harry asked.
"Jus' lookin'," he said, glancing over our heads and all around us-anywhere but us, really. "An' what're you doin'?"
Harry met my eyes and I could see something mischievous in his face.
"Looking for some information on Flamel," he answered.
Hagrid opened his mouth to respond, probably to rebuke us, but then I saw him look at the books on the table. He smiled triumphantly.
"Nice try, `arry, but I see those Herbology books. Yer studying fer exams, aren't yeh?"
"Yes," I answered, somewhat surprised, though unsure of why, that Hagrid was astute enough to notice our textbooks. "We found out about Flamel ages ago. And we know that Fluffy is guarding the Philosopher's Sto-"
"Quiet!" Hagrid whispered, fiercely, cutting me off. He peered through the closest stacks to make sure no one was listening. "Don' go shoutin' off about it, `ermione. What's the matter with yeh?"
Harry rushed to my defense. "There are actually a few things we wanted to ask you, because you've been such a big help so far. What's guarding the Stone other than Fluffy-?"
"Not here!" Hagrid cut in again. He looked nervous and kept shifting around whatever he had behind his back. "Listen, come an' see me later, yeah? I'm not promisin' anything, don' forget, but don' go botherin' about it in here. Students aren' s'posed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh…"
Harry and I stared at him as he stood there, looking quite uncomfortable. He had, in essence, told us most of what we knew. We had put a few of the pieces together here and there, but much of the credit went to Hagrid.
"See you later, then?" I asked, hoping to break the awkward moment. Hagrid nodded slowly and moved off, careful to keep whatever he was holding out of sight.
Harry leaned toward me; some of his jet hair fell over his forehead. He brushed it impatiently away.
"What was he hiding behind his back?" he asked.
"Could it have something to do with the Stone?" I then asked.
Harry pushed himself out of the chair. "I'm going to see what section he was in. I'll be right back." He walked around the table and moved past me into the stacks, but as he went by he briefly laid his hand on my shoulder. It was a nice gesture of friendliness.
He had two books with him when he returned, which he dropped on the table in front of me.
"Dragons!" he whispered. "He was researching about dragons." I could feel his eyes on me as I examined the titles of the books: Dragon Species of Britannia and From Egg to Inferno.
I looked up. "But why?"
"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon," Harry said, sitting down. "He told me the day I learned about magic."
"Aren't they illegal?" I questioned. "Binns said something about dragon breeding being outlawed."
Harry grinned at me. "Something? Hermione Granger doesn't remember exactly what one of her professors said?" He put a hand to his heart and looked shocked.
"I'm not perfect, you know," I responded, sticking my tongue out at him. He just raised his eyebrows at me.
"I believe Binns said it was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709," Harry said, recalling the information I instantly knew to be right.
"Well, I'm impressed," I told him. He looked pleased. "I guess we need to do some studying for History of Magic, too."
"Hagrid's first?"
"Sure," I agreed. "But I wonder what he's up to…?"
We packed up our things and left the library, exiting the castle into the rather balmy spring evening. Our footsteps squelched in the soft earth as we descended from the castle proper across the grounds to Hagrid's hut.
Harry knocked on the door and we heard some shuffling noises from within.
"Who's'it?"
"Just us, Hagrid," Harry answered. The door opened and he was there, beckoning us quickly inside. He shut the door just after I'd fully crossed through the entryway.
The first thing I noticed was how hot it was inside. The warm April evening was a nice relief from the dreary winter months, but Hagrid seemed to be ignoring the weather. He had a fire raging in his hearth and all of his windows and shutters were closed. I glanced at Harry as he loosened his collar. There was a similar question in his eyes. We sat at Hagrid's table, where he joined us after a moment of tending the fire. His beard looked singed.
"Yeh wanted to ask somethin'?"
"Yes," I said, wanting to cut to the chase. "We were wondering what is guarding the Stone other than Fluffy?"
"Why?" Hagrid answered, frowning through his beard. "I don' know meself and yeh know too much already, anyway. It's here for a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts-I s'pose yeh've figured that out fer yerselves? I dunno how yeh even knew abou' Fluffy…"
"Hagrid," I said, interrupting his rather scattered train of thought. I supposed flattery might work on him. "You might not want to tell us, but we know you know almost everything that happens around here. Professor Dumbledore trusts you enough for that…we only wondered who else he trusted enough to protect the Stone."
Hagrid was smiling now, and Harry was smiling at me. The whole thing was a little underhanded, and I felt like I was taking advantage of Hagrid, but we had to know. Dumbledore had not provided us with satisfying answers, and that route was closed to us now. Seeing Hagrid in the library had ignited some of the old curiosity, which had been so easy to forget. I sensed that Harry felt the same way.
"Well, how could it hurt? Let's see…he borrowed Fluffy from me; then some of the teachers did enchantments, like Professor Sprout, an' McGonagall, an' Flitwick… Quirrell also, and o' course Dumbledore too. Oh, an' Professor Snape," he said, counting them on his fingers.
"Snape?" Harry asked, eyes widening.
"Yeh," Hagrid grunted. Then he realized why Harry was so shocked. "Yeh don't still think Snape's going after the Stone, do yeh?"
"Well…" Harry said.
"We're not sure, Hagrid. Harry saw something very suspicious the night of the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, and when we went to Professor Dumbledore-"
"Just a mo'! Dumbledore knows you kids know about all of this?" Hagrid looked positively bewildered, and possibly a little afraid.
"Don't worry," I said, appeasing him. "He doesn't know how we know."
"But that's not the point," Harry cut in. "Professor Dumbledore reacted very strangely to what we had to show him-"
"O' course he would! Yeh both are meddlin' in his business…tha's not very smart o' yeh," he told us, looking disappointed. It reminded me of how Dumbledore had looked.
"But if Snape was in on the protections, he would have been able to find out about the other enchantments," Harry pushed on.
"Except for Quirrell's and how to get past Fluffy, it seems…" I added. None of this was looking very good for our illustrious Potions Professor.
"You're the only one who can get past Fluffy, right?" Harry asked.
"An' Dumbledore, o' course," Hagrid answered. He sounded very proud. "And tha's the way it'll stay, if I have anything ter say about it."
"That's something, at least," Harry said. He pulled on his collar again, suffering just as much in the heat as I was. I glanced toward the fire, wondering not for the first time why it was lit. "Can we open a window, Hagrid?"
"Can't. Sorry," Hagrid responded, shortly.
Looking at the fire again, I noticed something dark in the embers, though it was obscured by the flames. I nudged Harry and nodded in the direction of the hearth, and he looked over there too. He stared at it for several moments.
"Hagrid-what is that?" he asked.
Then I remembered what Hagrid had been looking at in the library-dragons, or more specifically, information on eggs. But Hagrid wouldn't be thick enough to have a dragon egg in his hut, would he?
"What?" Hagrid asked, following Harry's eyes. "Oh," he chuckled, nervously. "That's…er…"
"Why do you have it?" Harry asked, moving closer to the fire to look at the egg. I joined him and saw that it was perfectly ovular and had a sleek, smooth surface as black as Harry's hair.
"Won it las' night," Hagrid answered, coming over to the fire as well and stoking the coals. He was beaming down at the egg. "I got into a game o' cards with some bloke in Hogsmeade."
I asked the next logical question: "But what do you plan to do with it once its hatched?"
"I've bin doin' some readin'," Hagrid said, waving toward the books on his bed. I had to duck out of the way of his huge hand. "It's all in there. Keep the egg in the fire because their mothers breathe on `em…an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour."
"But it's a dragon," I reminded him. "Dragons breathe fire."
"I know," he said, sounding completely enraptured. "Ain't it a riot?"
"You live in a wooden house, Hagrid," I said, simply. Harry shook his head slightly, smiling to himself. Harry might have found it amusing, but Hagrid could get into serious trouble for this.
Hagrid shrugged. "Won' be a bit o' bother," he said.
"Do you at least know what kind of dragon it is?" Harry asked, sounding resigned.
"Sure do," Hagrid said. "Norwegian Ridgeback-quite rare, they are."
We left soon after that. We immediately returned to the Gryffindor common room to inform Ron, Neville, and Sally of the latest development in this wild year. We weren't sure they would all be there, but as it was quite late, we assumed they would have returned by now. And sure enough, when I emerged into the room through the portrait hole, the three of them were sitting on a sofa by the fire.
"Oi, you two," Ron called, waving us over. Sally was reading on her back with her legs thrown over an arm of the sofa. She laid the book across her chest when she saw us. Neville and Ron were playing chess, using the other half of the sofa as a playing surface.
"Hullo," Harry said, sitting on the floor near them. I put my bag on the low table between the sofas and joined him on the floor. "What've you lot been up to?" he asked.
Neville shrugged. "Not much. We went outside for a bit, but it's too muddy to do much."
"What are you reading, Sally?" I asked.
She smiled at me, turning and curling her legs so she was facing us. "Reviewing for Defense," she answered, closing the book and tossing it to me. It was The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection.
"How was studying?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows at me and looking at Harry. I couldn't suppress the bemused smile that fell across my lips.
"Fine," Harry said, "though we have more problems." They all looked confused, wondering what he was talking about.
Harry and I filled them in on our discussion with Hagrid that had started in the library and moved to his hut. Ron was the most shocked of all when we told them about the egg, which surprised me because for some reason I thought he would have liked it. Neville and Sally did not know what to say.
"But he can't have one," Ron said, pointing out the obvious.
"We know that, Ron," I told him, trying not to sound annoyed. We had just been through all of this with Hagrid.
"It's against our laws, Hermione," he said. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that-"
"Everyone? Or just purebloods?" I asked. "The only reason Harry and I knew that was because of History of Magic."
He looked properly rebuked, and inclined his head to acknowledge my point. "Still, it's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the garden…"
"And you can't tame dragons, anyway," Neville said. "It's too dangerous. I grew up on horror stories of encounters with wild dragons."
"You should see the burns Charlie has from wild ones in Romania," Ron agreed.
"Are there wild dragons in Britain?" Harry asked.
"Of course there are," Ron said, sounding happy to know something we didn't for once. I must admit, Ron's working knowledge of the magical world was useful at times. "Common Welsh Greens and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. My dad has a few stories about dragons…we have to keep putting spells on Muggles to make them forget."
"Hagrid must know all of this," I said.
"I'm sure he does," Sally agreed. "But it sounds like he doesn't care."
"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life?" Neville asked. Harry chuckled and soon we were all laughing.
----------
Winter term ended after our last exam on the sixteenth. The last three days had been filled with studying and tests, but I was confident that I had done well. There were a few Transfiguration and Charms theory questions that were challenging, but nothing else had given me pause. We wouldn't find out the results of the exams until after Spring term had started, so for now we had the three day Easter holiday weekend to enjoy.
I slept later than usual on Friday, the seventeenth, and when I descended to the common room, I found Harry, Ron, and Sally already there.
"Morning," I greeted them, yawning a bit and running my fingers through my hair. I frowned at the tangles.
"Hullo there, Hermione," Harry said, motioning for me to sit down on the sofa. Sally was on his other side and Ron was stretched out on the floor, staring up at the high ceiling. He had what looked like a letter in his hands.
"Where's Neville?" I asked, settling into the sofa.
"Probably still sleeping," Ron answered, from the floor.
"Lazy bum!" Sally exclaimed, though she was joking. "What are your plans for this weekend?" she asked.
"Dunno really…" Harry said. "Dean and Seamus were talking about playing some football tomorrow. They wanted to get all of us in on it."
"What's football?" Ron asked, sounding intrigued. Sally, Harry, and I just looked at each other. Ron was obsessed with Quidditch and he didn't know what football was? There really was an impossible gulf between the Muggle and magical worlds.
"A sport," Harry told him, and Ron perked up even more. "It's kind of like Quidditch, except you only use one ball and you're not on brooms."
"Not on brooms?" Ron asked, sounding disappointed. "Sounds dull."
"Don't let Dean or Seamus hear you saying that," I warned. "They'll bore your ear off for hours trying to convince you otherwise."
"Come to think of it, kind of like Ron does with Quidditch?" Sally wondered, looking at me and winking.
"Quidditch is not boring!" he retorted.
"Then you shouldn't think football is, either," Harry said. "Dean or Seamus will probably tell us more sometime today. I think it could be fun. We haven't done much outside since last fall."
"Well, you have Quidditch practice," I reminded him.
"Fine, other than my Quidditch practice," he added, shaking his head a bit and pushing on my arm. "Speaking of that…" he trailed off. He leaned toward me.
"How about we take that broom I got you for Christmas out to the pitch this weekend? Maybe Sunday sometime?" he suggested, whispering the words in my ear. He had suddenly invaded in my personal space, but I wasn't uncomfortable.
Flying still didn't excite me, but I wanted Harry to know I appreciated his thoughtful gift. The training broom had sat with my things in the dormitory since we returned to Hogwarts, nearly forgotten, so I supposed this would be as good an opportunity as any to try it out.
"Sure," I whispered back. "As long as you catch me if I fall." I could feel his smile as he leaned away.
"What are you two so thick as thieves about?" Sally wondered, looking at us suspiciously.
"Probably planning a study session," Ron said, from his vantage point on the floor. He grunted when I pressed my foot lightly into his stomach.
"What's that you have?" I asked, noticing again the letter in his hands. He glanced at it and then continued staring at the ceiling.
"Letter from home," he said, shortly.
"Parents?" Harry asked.
Ron shook his head. "Nah. From my little sister."
"Aw, you have a little sister? That's so cute she writes you letters," Sally said, and Ron made a disgusted face.
"Ginny's anything but cute," he said. "She's a little terror and she'll do anything to get what she wants."
"Oh, Ron, don't be so hard on her. How many older brothers do you have? She and your mum have to be strong against all those males," I told him.
"Ha!" Ron said, glancing at the letter. "That's what you think-she actually wrote me this because mum's driving her spare. Said it's bloody suffocating at home and she can't wait for Hogwarts."
"She starts next year? Or when?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, next year. She's only a year younger than me."
I realized that I did not when Ron was born. "When's your birthday?" I asked.
"March 1st, 1980," he said.
"Oh, so we missed it?" Sally pointed out. "Sorry, Ron. Happy twelfth."
He waved it off. "No big deal."
We exchanged birthdays after that, for future reference. It's amazing how something like that had never come up in casual conversation before. Sally's was November 14th, 1979; Harry's was July 31st, 1980; I told them mine was September 19th, 1979; Ron informed us that Ginny's was August 11th, 1981.
"So you're the oldest, huh?" Ron questioned, looking at me.
"Suppose so," I responded, not really caring. Sally was less than two months younger than me.
"And I'm the youngest," Harry added. "Besides your sister."
"When's Nev's birthday?" Sally queried.
"July 30th," a new voice answered, and we all turned our heads to see Neville walking toward us. He wondered why we'd wanted to know and we told him about sharing our birthdays with each other. So we all told him, as well.
"Nev, you were born on July 30th, 1980?" Harry asked.
He nodded. "That's right."
"Wow, so I'm only one day younger than you."
"Kind of a coincidence," Sally said. "I mean, what are the chances that out of only five of us, two would have birthdays so close to each other?"
"Small world, I guess," Neville said.
Friday passed easily, with us enjoying the time off from classes and studies as much as we could. I spent some of Friday reading one of the novels from home, but after awhile I joined the others by the fire. Dinner was provided in the common rooms that night for those who wanted it, so we ate our delicious meals at the hearth.
Dean had told us about the football game planned for the next day, and it sounded fun and interesting. All ten first years were going to play; apparently Dean, Seamus, and Lily had played extensively before coming to Hogwarts, and Harry said he'd played a few times at his primary school.
Saturday dawned warm and sunny-it seemed that we had finally left the last vestiges of winter behind-so after breakfast we all meandered outside. Dean had wanted everyone to meet down by the lake so the teams could be set.
I discarded my robes for jeans and a long sleeve t shirt, and when I examined myself in the mirror before heading outside, I realized that my body was developing more rapidly than I'd expected. Perhaps it was because the robes constantly obscured the actual shape of our bodies, or maybe it was because I just didn't care enough yet, but my chest had filled out some since I last noticed. If I was going to play soccer in just this shirt, I definitely needed a bra. So I put one on and met Sally in the common room.
She was dressed similarly, reverting to Muggle attire like me when Muggle activities were involved, and as I had noticed at Christmas, she was also growing into a young woman. She seemed to be somewhat further along than me, though. We didn't talk about it, and instead just headed for the shore of the lake, where we could see several people standing around.
Dean, Seamus, and Neville were already there; after Sally and I arrived, Lily, Parvati, and Lavender made an appearance. Harry and Ron were the last two to show up, though they weren't far behind the girls. Teams were set: Dean, Ron, Neville, Lily, and Parvati; Harry, Seamus, Sally, Lavender, and me.
Ron examined the football for quite some time, trying to figure out why it didn't float above the ground by itself. When Seamus explained that football involved feet and not hands or Beater bats or broomsticks, Ron shook his head in bafflement and resigned himself to learning through experience.
The game itself was a hilarious experience. Dean and Seamus and Lily dominated, of course, but Harry did alright too. I even held my own when the ball came to me; it was nice to exert myself for once, and as I kicked the ball as hard as I could across our makeshift field toward Harry, I let out this whoop of joy. I received some interesting looks, but I think it might have broken the ice, because everyone seemed to enjoy themselves much more after that. Playing that game of football made me realize just how few physical activities we participated in at Hogwarts. Aerobics weren't a priority with witches and wizards, it seemed.
The other team, with Dean and Lily, ended up winning with three straight goals to close out the game, but we were all rosy-pinked and huffing and puffing with barely contained glee, regardless. I congratulated Dean and Seamus on the stellar idea and told them I hoped we could do more things like this in the future. Even Lavender and Parvati, who I'd long considered girly-girls, had seemed to genuinely enjoy themselves. Lily had shattered my flighty impression of her when she scored with a perfect bicycle kick. Dean and Seamus had stars in their eyes after that one.
Most of us relaxed for the rest of Saturday, easing away any soreness from the game and resting after that sudden exertion of energy. Ron's twin brothers wanted to know how the game went, and surprisingly Ron described the action fairly well. They commented that perhaps `Ronnie-kins' had a new sport to fawn over.
That night, when we five girls were getting ready for bed, Lavender asked Lily the question that had probably been burning in her mind all day:
"When did you learn to play football like that?" she asked. She made an odd motion with her hands, simulating to some degree the bicycle kick. Lily sat on the edge of her bed and turned her blue eyes toward Lavender, smiling and brushing her straight, light brown hair out of her face.
"My dad is a Muggle," she reminded Lavender. "He grew up on football and had a chance to go pro, but didn't because of mum and then me. So I've been playing as long as I can remember," she said, turning back her covers.
"You must have," Parvati said, lying on her stomach, on her bed, and placing her chin in her hands. "Because whatever you did when you scored that one time was really incredible."
"Thanks," Lily said, smiling again.
"What's it called?" Sally asked. "What you did, I mean."
"A bicycle kick," Lily answered, loving the attention.
"I want to try it sometime," Lavender said, giggling.
Lily suddenly grew serious. "Don't ever try it by yourself, Lav," she warned.
Lavender pouted. "Why not?"
"Because you could really hurt yourself. If you landed on your head you could break your neck."
"Are we witches or what?" Lavender asked, laughing. "If I hurt myself like that, it's nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix with one night in the Hospital Wing."
"You should probably listen to Lily, either way," I said. "I think she knows what she's talking about. And besides, if you wanted to learn how to do that, she would probably teach you." I looked to Lily for confirmation.
She nodded; I could see gratitude on her face for defending her warning. "Sure, of course. I can teach all of you and we can play boys versus girls and smash them!" she exclaimed, and we all started laughing at that. The five of us talked long into that night for the first time ever, and it was interesting how comfortable it felt. I now appreciate the irony that it took a Muggle activity as unexpected as football, but that night I was simply happy to be a part of the conversation. Idly, I wondered about the girls that had tortured me during primary school, and what they were doing now.
----------
"You ready for this, Hermione?" Harry asked, coming over to me in the common room the next evening. We had all enjoyed a massive and scrumptious Easter feast earlier in the day, and many had spent the rest of Sunday afternoon napping away their full bellies. I had been reading quietly in the near-deserted common room for hours when Harry appeared from the dormitory.
"For what?" I wondered.
"For your lesson!" he said, smiling at me.
"Oh, right! Yes…let me change and get the broom," I said, trying to cover that Harry's planned lesson had slipped my mind. He didn't seem to notice, and if he did I doubt he cared. We'd had a full weekend so far and he'd only mentioned it in passing on Friday.
"K," he said, and I raced up the stairs to my dorm. I changed into Muggle clothes again, remembering that broom-riding required pants from the infrequent flying lessons with Hooch. I found the collapsible training broom and removed it from the package, and then returned to the common room. Harry was waiting, dressed in his Quidditch jersey and a pair of jeans. The red and gold jersey, with the large POTTER on the back, flattered him. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, barely able to contain his excitement.
"Finally!" he said. "Come on!" He grabbed my free hand and pulled me across the common room and out into the corridor. We rapidly descended through the castle and exited through the front doors. We found ourselves immersed in the crisp evening air and the fading light of day. Harry was still pulling me by the hand.
"Harry, easy," I said, laughing lightly and pulling back on his hand. He looked at me and I could see the excitement shining in his green eyes.
He did ease up and we strolled at a leisurely pace toward the pitch, which was deserted at this hour. In fact, there wasn't a soul in sight. As we passed under the stands to reach the pitch, I looked up and through the benches I could see the first stars twinkling down. I was glad I was wearing a sweater because it was cooler than I'd expected.
We emerged onto the pitch and Harry led me to one corner; it was surrounded on three sides by stands and the fourth by the Forbidden Forest.
"I'll be right back. I have to get my Nimbus from the equipment shed," he said. I nodded and watched as he walked across the pitch toward the stands on the far side. Without him by my side, the expansive stadium was a lonely place, especially at the end of the evening like this. The western sky was still fairly bright and provided enough light to see fifty or sixty meters, but the eastern portion of the sky was growing dark, and quickly. I looked up again and saw those first stars shining through all that unimaginable space between.
I reached up and, taking a band from my pocket, tucked my hair into a pony tail. The last few inches of it fell over my upper back, resting on the outside of my sweater. I breathed deeply and was rewarded with the clean, clear scent of the night air. In the silence of Harry's absence, I could hear the peepers as they started in on their night song.
He strolled back into sight shortly thereafter, carrying the Nimbus and beckoning me toward him. We met in the middle of the pitch and he swung astride his broom, where he hovered calmly, one meter off the ground.
"So I guess just lay the broom on the ground," he said, and I did as he directed. "When we had those lessons with Hooch, did the broom jump into your hand when you said `up'?"
I shook my head. "It didn't jump into my hand, but it came eventually."
He dismounted and laid the Nimbus on the ground. "Up!" he commanded, and it sprang into his open palm. He looked at me. "You try it."
I reached over my training broom and opened my hand. I took a deep breath and exhaled, watching as the cloud of vapor dissipated in front of my face.
"Up!" I said, loudly. The broom slowly rose into my hand.
"Good job!" Harry exclaimed. I rolled my eyes at his patronization.
"Nothing like you, though."
"It's a start. At least it only took one try," he said. "One more time, and this time really see the broom jumping into your hand. Really want it."
I dropped the broom to the ground again and imagined the hard wood of the handle slapping against the palm of my hand.
"Up!" I yelled, attempting to force my magic through the palm of my hand. Nothing happened…and then the broom leapt to my hand like it was sucked there. The fading echoes of my command twirled around the empty stadium.
"Very nice," Harry told me, enthusiasm and pride evident in his voice. "Now, because that's a training broom, it will only hover. You can't go up more than a few meters and you can't go very fast. But if you feel comfortable with it I'll let you try the Nimbus-"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," I said, smiling at his passion. Harry's zeal for Quidditch was quite endearing, truth be told.
"Right," Harry agreed, and although the light was fading too fast to clearly distinguish the grin on his face, I could hear it in his voice. "So now you can sit on the broom like this. I usually lean forward a little bit; otherwise it's uncomfortable after a little while." He demonstrated by swinging astride the broom again and leaning just ever-so-slightly forward.
"Be careful, though," he warned. "If you lean forward too much, you'll start accelerating."
I nodded at his directions and swung my right leg over the broom. I settled on to the wooden shaft and mimicked Harry's pose. I lost my balance for just a moment as the broom accepted my weight and then rose slightly, so that the tips of my trainers could just barely reach the dewy grass.
"Alright?" Harry asked, gliding to my side and gripping my upper left arm to prevent me from nearly toppling again. I nodded shakily; I was glad he was right there beside me to prevent any accidents. This floating feeling was something I had to get used to if I ever wanted to fly well, which I kind of did so Harry and I would have something else in common. Just the few glimpses I'd had this night, up close and personal, of how comfortable and natural Harry was with a broom was enough to convince me.
Sure, I'd seen him play Quidditch several times, but he was way up in the sky and I was way down in the stands, so I was removed from the action. I didn't get a chance to viscerally see, as a spectator, the natural ease with which Harry commanded his broom. Now he was right next to me, though, and I could tell he was more comfortable with the Nimbus than with anything else.
"I think so," I responded, a little shakily. He loosened his grip on my arm and I drifted away slightly. I held my breath for instant, feeling wobbly but not losing my balance again. I exhaled and felt some of the sudden stress leave my shoulders.
"Ok," Harry said. "Ok. Now, to move forward, lean forward a little more, like this."
I watched as he pushed more of his weight toward the front of the broom, which dipped toward the ground, and began to glide forward. His shoelaces were grazing the grass. He circled around and stopped by my side again.
"Your turn," he told me. "And I'm going to be right here the whole time."
I tightly gripped the broom and slowly, very slowly, leaned forward some more. At first, the training broom's forward movement was infinitesimal at best, but gradually it picked up speed and soon enough we were cruising across the pitch at a very laid-back pace. Harry stayed next to me for all of this.
"To stop, just ease up," he said, and I followed his advice. I leaned back and the broom slowed to a stop.
"Great job, Hermione!" he said, proudly, reaching across our brooms and briefly wrapping an arm over my shoulders. Night was descending rapidly around us and I could just barely make out his face near mine. His eyes shone in the darkness, however, and they were happy.
We had drifted toward the forested edge of the pitch, and it looked like a wall of darkness rising out of the ground. He removed his arm from my shoulders.
"Ready to try again?" he wondered, and I nodded. For the next several minutes, we went over the basics: starting, stopping, moving both backward and forward, and then finally turning. The last bit gave me some trouble as I over-corrected a turn and toppled off the broom to the wet grass. We were close to the Forbidden Forest again; I could smell its pungent night odor.
I landed on my back, laughing about my mistake, and stayed there as Harry pulled up next to me. He was just a silhouette against the last traces of light in the western sky.
"I think that's enough for tonight," he said, laughing along with me. He dismounted and settled on to the ground next to me. We lay like that for awhile, staring up at the emerging night sky.
The stars were out in force now, and I could also see the faintly glowing streak of the Milky Way stretched above us. My world was filled with those stars, the sounds of the insects, and Harry's presence next to me.
"Thank you," I eventually said, turning my head to look at him. The grass rustled as he also turned to look at me. I could see the distant lights of the castle reflected in his eyes, though everything else was obscured in darkness.
"You're welcome," he said, genuinely. His voice was warm and happy.
"So how do you think you did on the exams?" I asked, turning once again to the sky.
Some time passed before he responded, and in that time I realized that this would be a very eerie location without Harry next to me. We were laying on the ground in near-pitch blackness at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. But for some reason I was unconcerned, with him there too.
"I dunno. Well enough, I s'pose. They didn't seem too hard."
"No, they didn't," I agreed.
Conversation fell off after that. I enjoyed Harry's quiet company, but I wondered what he was thinking about. We had already been through so much together, and we'd only known each other for about eight months.
In time, he stirred and sat up, getting to his feet. I watched from the ground as he stretched out his hand to help me up.
"Oh, look!" I cried, pointing straight up over our heads. He craned his neck and looked up into the night sky. Several shooting stars streaked through the heavens above, fading away toward the western horizon.
He looked down and I took his offered hand. After I was on my feet I didn't feel like letting it go. He didn't seem to mind or didn't notice, because he said nothing as I entwined my fingers in his. We grabbed our brooms with our free hands and started toward the equipment shed across the darkened pitch.
"So what did you wish for?" I asked, assuming he would know the Muggle superstition of wishing upon a falling star.
He squeezed my hand. "For good friends, always."
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