Chapter Six
THE BELWIT CURSE
After a lot of discussion, Harry and Hermione had finally decided there wasn't really anything they could do about what had happened with Ginny. What they both wanted was to tell Ron, but they couldn't because of Hermione's promise to Ginny. Harry had also wanted Hermione to go to Dumbledore about Krum's truest identity. However, Hermione had been more opposed to that idea than telling Ron about Ginny.
"Harry!" she had protested. "Dumbledore has more than enough to worry about right now! The last thing he needs is to worry about is my old romantic interests! Besides," Hermione had added, "what would he think if you went in there saying you'd seen I had Dark Scar? He'd be wondering what we were doing when you happened to notice that!"
When she had put it like that, Harry had been a lot less eager to go to the headmaster. However, that meant that nothing was done about any part of the situation, and second thoughts about it hung over both Harry and Hermione's heads for a long time.
* * *
Harry and Hermione might have been preoccupied with their worries about Ginny and Krum, but everyone else in the school had their own worries as well. A few of the more overdramatic students managed to convince themselves in the weeks after Durmstrang was destroyed that Hogwarts would be next, and the unfortunate deaths of Crabbe and Goyle were enough to captivate everyone else's attention.
Hermione was worried about all those three things, but she had a fourth and fifth worry as well. Try as she might, she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling she had had since Sirius's midnight visit. She and Ron spent a lot more time together after that night, discussing what they had been told. As for that fifth worry, it was more of a secret, and the only thing she shared it with was Crookshanks, and even that was only after everyone else was fast asleep.
Slowly but surely, the majority of students abandoned their fears. They had more important things to talk about, namely the Christmas Dance. Unlike the Yule Ball, this event was open to every grade; however, most of the first, second, and third years had no interest in going or had been dissuaded by a teacher or older student. For the most part, the majority of them still felt no need to spend any more time with the opposite sex than absolutely necessary.
But then, in the third week of November, even the gossip about the Yule Ball was discarded. The long-delayed first game of Quidditch, between the ever-exciting match up of Gryffindor and Slytherin, fueled almost every minute of conversation for at least ten days.
* * *
"Okay women," said the new Gryffindor team Quidditch captain Angelina Johnson gleefully, obviously exercising her own, revised version of Oliver Wood's speech. Instead of correcting her, Ron, Harry, Dean, George, and Fred rolled their eyes. She continued. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."
Her speech sent her and Alicia Spinnet into a fit of giggles, but it was obvious she was very serious with her borrowed words. She gave them a wide-eyed, slightly nervous expression.
"We are going to win," repeated Angelina. "I'm not kidding, you guys. We've been practicing every day for nearly a month, which is almost more than the other three teams combined. I have faith in you guys-so get out there and kick some Slytherin butt!"
Her speech ended up serving its purpose. As they marched out on the field in their scarlet robes, cheers flew up from the Gryffindor section of the stand and even from the commentator's box. Lee Jordan shouted his own unique brand of encouragement as they mounted their brooms.
The Slytherin team did the same, only they looked much more nervous than the Gryffindors. Harry recognized about four of the burly boys on the brooms, and he was pretty sure that the third year at the end of the row was the younger brother of Marcus Flint, the Slytherin captain from four years before. The other two had to be new recruits, and he knew they weren't in his grade because he had never seen them in class before. With Malfoy gone, he was sure it had been interesting trying to assemble a team that year. Still, Harry didn't want to be too quick to judge. He'd never played against three of the Slytherins before, and he wasn't about to make the mistake of underestimating them.
"Keep it fair, everyone," commanded Madam Hooch, mounting her own broom. "I won't tolerate any illegal play." Seconds later, she gave her silver whistle a shrill blast, and fifteen brooms rose higher and higher in the air.
"They're off!" exclaimed Jordan in a booming voice. "It looks like Captain Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor has the Quaffle, and she's taking it toward the goal posts. Wow! Ten points for Gryffindor already! Slytherin Keeper Gregory Flint wasn't even on the same end of the field that time! Quaffle taken by Slytherins, no, Gryffindor-well, it looks like Slytherins have it again! YES! That had to hurt! One of the Weasley twins sent a Bludger in the direction of Slytherin Chaser Moon that nearly took him off his broom! Gryffindor has the Quaffle, and Chaser Ron Weasley puts it in! Once again, Flint's nowhere near the goal, but maybe red hair isn't the only thing those Weasley brothers have in common! Slytherin has the Quaffle, but an excellent play by Keeper Thomas keeps it out of the goal! Gryffindor has the Quaffle, Spinnet passes to Johnson, and she's going for the goal-whoa, that-that's a FOUL! THAT'S A DIRTY ROTTEN-"
Obviously, Professor McGonagall had snatched the microphone away from Jordan, but his loud curses were still easily identifiable. He was right-it was a foul, and Madam Hooch called it as one.
"Flint creams into Johnson on his way to defend the goal, so penalty to Gryffindor-of course, they put it away cleanly-Slytherin in possession. There's a lot of passing going on between those Chasers-wow, it looks like they might actually-never mind, folks. Gryffindor Keeper Thomas manages to block it, even with two Bludgers heading straight for him! Chaser Weasley has the Quaffle again, and he's making a beeline for the goal post-LOOK OUT! That was a close call for the youngest Weasley, but he still manages to-SCORE FOR GRYFFINDOR! If I were Slytherin, I'd watch it with those Bludgers, because it's getting personal for the Weasley twins. Slytherin has the Quaffle again; they're nearing the goal-and another excellent play by the Gryffindor Keeper stops them from scoring! How many does that make now?"
At about that moment, up in the air, one of the Slytherin Beaters had started following Angelina as soon as soon as she'd gotten the Quaffle. He beckoned to the second Beater, who sent him a Bludger that he smashed straight into the side of Angelina's head. Harry was just feet from her and positive she was going to fall off her broom, and he was amazed when she not only managed to stay in the air, but she also sent the ball in Ron's direction, who got it into the goal. Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor side of the field, and Madam Hooch called a penalty for unnecessary roughness. Even though she still looked a little dizzy, Angelina put it in the goal, bringing the score up to fifty to zero, Gryffindor.
Back on the ground, the commentating had stopped for a moment while Professor McGonagall yelled at Jordan for cursing into the microphone. It resumed a few moments later. "Er, sorry folks, had to have a bit of talk with Professor McGonagall. Great lady, that Professor McGonagall. Johnson put the penalty shot in cleanly; Gryffindor leads by fifty points, and there's still no sign of the Snitch! Gryffindor still remains in possession, passing furiously, and those Slytherin Beaters look like they're about to go crazy with that many directions to send things. OUCH! Now I know that hurt! Just as he went to knock a Bludger in the direction of Chaser Johnson, Slytherin Beater Marks took a Bludger right in the stomach! I can't tell them apart, but I think that was Fred, Fred Weasley, Mr. Fred Weasley. He and Johnson have been having quite a thing for awhile, and it wouldn't surprise me if-"
"If I commentated for the rest of the match," said Professor McGonagall. From next to her, Jordan started howling, and ten minutes later, she gave his job back to him. Up in the air, the Gryffindors were completely shutting out the Slytherins, ninety to nothing. Harry hadn't seen the Snitch yet, but he was having a great time darting around, faking dives, and whirling around in the air to confuse the other Seeker.
Pulling up from his umpteenth dive, Harry leveled out, getting ready to seriously look for the Snitch. However, he never got the chance. Just as his Nimbus 2000 had started jumping about in his very first Quidditch match, the Firebolt started to buck widely. Harry struggled to hold on, and he noticed that he wasn't the only one. All around the field, brooms were shaking and diving and spinning at seemingly their own will. Ron, on one of the school brooms, seemed to have the worst of it, and Harry steered the Firebolt, to the best of his abilities, toward his friend.
"Something's-wrong-with-this-broom," Ron was yelling. It jerked to the left, away from Harry, and plummeted into a tailspin. At the last minute, the broom pulled upwards and flew straight upward into the air, leaving Ron behind. Harry tried to get control of his broom as he saw his best friend suspended in the air for the shortest moment, but there was no controlling the Firebolt. With a sick lurch, it slid to one side as Ron fell swiftly back to earth.
Angelina screamed. Her own broom was performing a similar tailspin, but she seemed more concerned about her fallen teammate than her own safety. Harry could relate to the same hopeless feeling. He tried to guide the Firebolt to the ground, but instead, it started careening sideways, and he smashed into George Weasley. The impact nearly knocked them both from their brooms, but they were able to gain control afterwards.
Harry was the first one to reach the ground again, and he realized that he had only been in the air a few seconds longer than Ron. The teachers were still running towards him, and from Harry's prospective it did not look good. He had no time to think, however, because Alicia Spinnet was the next to tumble out of the air. Together, he and George, the only two that had any kind of control on their brooms, managed to catch her just in time.
All around him, the other Quidditch players were finally descending on their brooms. Harry tossed his Firebolt aside and rushed over to Ron. A small crowd had already assembled around him, and Harry couldn't shove his way through.
"Let me get closer!" said Harry angrily, but no one was listening to him. There was a lot of muttering and panicked whisper.
"Look up there!"
Harry turned. Angelina had just touched the ground again, but she was looking skyward. In the same gray smoke, there was another message: Do you believe me now?
* * *
Hogwarts was unusually silent. Back in the Gryffindor common room, no one was talking. There wasn't a one of them that hadn't been at the Quidditch match, they had all seen the out of control brooms, and they had all seen Ron fall. There was nothing they could do but wait. Even the Slytherins were quiet, back in their own tower. They seemed to realize that it could have easily been one of them that took a fall.
Several of stall members, including Professor McGonagall and Madam Hooch, had been permitted inside the hospital wing. Dumbledore had even been called from his office; he was the one that permitted a small group of students to wait right outside of the hospital even after Madam Pomfrey had shooed them away. Harry and Hermione, being Ron's closest friends, were there, along with Anna. The three other Weasley siblings were there, along with Angelina Johnson and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. There was very little talking at first.
George was the first one to break the silence. He'd been sitting with his arm around Ginny, looking stunned, but had still managed to comfort his little sister.
"This is torture," he said finally.
"Ron's tough," said Harry, trying to be optimistic. Someone had to be. "He'll pull through this. They'll probably let us in there any minute."
"And Ron will be sitting up in bed," added Hermione with a slight giggle, "asking who won the match and declaring he feels fine and wants to leave."
Anna had been the quietest of all. She was sitting a little off from the rest of the group, sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees. "That sounds like Ron," she said weakly.
"He's been through worse, Anna," said Harry, catching the misery in her voice. He'd been sitting with Hermione, but he moved over to Anna's side. "You'll see. Madam Pomfrey's a miracle worker. She'll have Ron fixed up in no time."
"Harry's right," said Dean Thomas, catching on. He, too, went to Anna's side. "Just give it a little more time. You'll see."
Anna nodded, a look of resolve on her face. "The other day he was trying to climb some tree outside," she said, "and he kept slipping. I told him that if he managed to kill himself, I'd kill him again. I reckon the same applies here."
"Good girl," said Alicia approvingly.
"That's the spirit," said George brightly. "Come to think, if you killed Ron, he probably wouldn't mind, since it's you and all."
Everyone managed a laugh, weak or not, except for Fred Weasley. He'd been staring blankly ahead of him since they'd arrived at the door to the hospital. While they had all tried to push their way through the crowd to see Ron, he was the only one that managed to get through. It seemed as if that glimpse had been enough to take him out of it. Suddenly, though, he sprang to life.
"Don't you get it?" said Fred angrily. "He tumbled over fifty feet to the ground! He hit his head! You won't be joking about it when they tell you he's dead and gone!"
"Don't say that, Fred," said George, looking astonished by his brother's outburst. "Ron'll pull through. Remember? He's been through worse before! Didn't you hear Harry?"
"You didn't see him!" Fred was on his feet. "It was all that stupid school broom! The rest of us have our own, and we didn't fall!"
"Fred," said Alicia carefully, "I fell, and I had my own broom. I know you're upset, but please calm down."
"Calm down?" Fred was pacing. "It's my own fault! He'd be fine if it hadn't been for me! I'll see you all later. I have to go send an owl to Mum and Dad telling them what happened."
Everyone stared at him in astonishment as he slunk down the hall. Angelina was the first to say something, a wide-eyed expression on her face.
"What's he talking about?"
George looked back down the hall grimly. "Ron had an old broom of Charlie's this summer. It wasn't a Firebolt," he explained, glancing at Harry, "but it was a decent broom. Fred-er, he accidentally blew it up. Long story, but he's obviously blaming it on the school broom, which means he's blaming himself because Ron had to use it."
"It wasn't the school broom!" said Angelina suddenly. "One of the Slytherins was on a school broom, and he didn't fall off! He got close, yes, but he didn't fall."
George sighed. "Give him a chance to cool off. He's got himself convinced one way and won't think otherwise no matter what you tell him. I'll work on him tonight."
"Have they let you see Ron yet?"
The group had been so transfixed by Fred's sudden outburst and George's explanation that they didn't notice Professor Lupin approaching them.
"No," said Hermione, "I guess Madam Pomfrey is still working on him. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall are in there, too."
Lupin stroked his chin a few times as if he were thinking. "I know," he said absently. "I hate to sound unsympathetic, but I need to see your brooms, the ones you were flying on. Do you know where they are?"
"Mine's right here," said Harry, jumping up, grabbing the Firebolt, and handing it to Lupin. He stepped back.
"Thank you, Harry," said Lupin. "Do the rest of you have yours? We need all of them to figure out what's wrong."
All the Quidditch team members were passing their brooms to him. George handing him Fred's as well, and Lupin smiled gratefully.
"I'll let you know whatever we find out," he promised. "Tell Mr. Weasley, when you see him, that I'm wishing him the best."
"We will," said Anna. A few seconds later, Lupin was gone, and the door to the hospital wing opened. Professor McGonagall was holding it open, her expression unreadable.
"You may come in," she said softly, "but you must be quiet. Madam Pomfrey frowns upon your entering, but she is permitting it on Ron's behalf."
The group stood up eagerly. Harry could see Anna was smiling, as was Hermione. He couldn't help but smile, too. Surely, Ron was doing all right. Madam Pomfrey wouldn't be able to let them in if he wasn't.
Or would she? The first thing they noticed was not Ron, but the school nurse, who was sobbing.
"There hasn't been one yet I wasn't able to heal," she was saying to the headmaster. "I don't know what's gotten into me. I-"
"You did all you could, Poppy, which is your job. It's not your fault that there's nothing more for you to do," said Dumbledore grimly.
* * *
Harry was at the back of the group when it pushed silently through the door. Hermione walked in on one side of him, and Anna was on the other. His face went pale when he heard Dumbledore's words. The next thing he felt was Hermione clutching onto him and burying her face in his shoulder. On his other side, Anna started backing away. Harry stopped her, catching her with his other arm.
"What are you two-" Harry broke off. He had seen Ron.
Ron was not, in fact, sitting up, laughing and joking with his well wishers. His face was ashen, and he was lying back on one of the stark white hospital beds, not moving. His head had been wrapped with a white bandage, his arm was in a sling, and his eyes were closed. He looked-
"Is he-you know-is he?" whimpered Ginny.
Dumbledore shook his head; he stood. "He's not dead, dear," the old headmaster said soothingly. He patted Ginny's shoulder.
"Then why does he look like that?" George wanted to know.
"He's suffered a great head trauma," said Madam Pomfrey, pulling herself together and standing up. She touched Ron gently, and he did not stir. She faced his family, friends, and teammates, her eyes full of pity. "I'm so sorry. I can't do any more for him."
"He's not going to be like that forever, right?" asked Anna. Hermione had let go of him and was standing about a foot away with her hand over her mouth in shock. Anna, on the other hand, was still glued to Harry's side. Usually, Harry wouldn't feel right with his best friend's girlfriend hanging on him like that, but this wasn't a usual circumstance. The poor girl had silent tears streaming down her face, and she was trembling.
"I don't know," admitted Madam Pomfrey. She was moving around, cleaning up the area around Ron. "Even if he does wake up, he might not ever be the same."
"Now Poppy," said Dumbledore, passing through the group. He worked his way to Harry and Anna. "Don't be so pessimistic. This is a Weasley that we're talking about." He gave Anna a reassuring smile. "George, Ginny-I'm sure you all remember when your older brother Charlie took a nasty tumble off his broom all those years ago. We thought we'd lost him, too," said Dumbledore, "but he pulled through for everyone, just as Ron will. Have faith."
The headmaster left then. Harry watched him walk out of the hospital, noticing the look on his face. His words were reassuring, but his expression was grim. However, Harry wasn't about to call attention to that fact. He swallowed.
"Dumbledore's right, you guys," said Harry. "He wouldn't tell us something if he didn't believe it himself. Ron'll be okay."
"That's a good attitude, Mr. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey. "Now, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. There's no use for you all standing around until Mr. Weasley is up. Go, go on now!"
Everyone filtered out silently, without protest. They stopped in the hall, just looking at each other. Surprisingly, it was George, again, that acted as a leader.
"Come on," said George finally. "Let's go back to the Gryffindor tower-you too, Anna. I'm sure we can make a few allowances in a time like this."
* * *
That had been late afternoon on Saturday, and Ron's condition had not changed a bit by Monday morning. Classes would continue despite everyone's somber attitude, and breakfast that morning was a terse affair. It had been hard to get through meals with Ron's empty seat glaring at them. After breakfast, Harry and Hermione headed straight to Defense Against the Dark Arts without talking; the rest of the Gryffindors followed suit a few minutes later.
"It's hard to focus on anything with Ron gone," said Harry, glancing over at Ron's empty seat. Hermione sat down on his other side.
"Don't let it get you down," whispered Hermione. She gave Harry a reassuring smile and squeezed his hand. "Madam Pomfrey is known for assuming the worst. Remember? She nearly had you convinced I wasn't going to make it, either, and I'm right here!"
Hermione had a point. "I won't," said Harry. "Do you think Lupin's figured out what went wrong with the brooms yet?"
"I still don't understand why he wanted them. The last time this happened," said Hermione, glancing at Harry, "it wasn't the broomstick; it was a person."
"I think it's because it happened to all of us," said Harry. "I don't think a person could make everyone's go bizerk at same time."
It wouldn't be much longer before they had their answer, but neither Harry nor Hermione knew it. At about that moment, Professor Lupin entered the classroom from his office. The Friday before, he'd told them they'd be working out of their books at the beginning of the week, but he didn't have a book in his hand. He stood before the class, leaning against his desk.
"I know I said we would be taking some notes from our books today, but there's been a change of plans," informed Lupin. He clapped his hands. "So put those away-you won't be needing them. We will continue our study of Dark creatures and their involvement with Dark wizards of the past sometime next week. I know you went in-depth about the unforgivable curses last year. I would to talk about curses today."
Lupin walked around his desk to the blackboard. He wrote out the names of the three unforgivable curses-Imperius, Cruciatus, and Avada Kedavra-and turned to face the class. No one was talking, even though it was the first time they had swayed from the curriculum that year. Lupin tapped his wand against the board to make a point.
"It is these curses-these three curses-that we consider the `unforgivable curses.' However, I have always felt a fourth should be included in this group, and it is the Belwit Curse," said Lupin. "Most do not agree with me, for the Belwit Curse cannot be used directly against fellow witch, wizard, or Muggle. How many of you have heard of the Belwit Curse before?"
The majority of the class raised their hands. Every single student with witch or wizard parentage but Harry raised theirs, and the only student with two Muggle parents to raise her hand was Hermione.
"But Professor Lupin," said Lavender Brown, "the Belwit Curse isn't bad! My mother uses it all the time to enchant brooms into sweeping the floor and stuff. How could that be as bad as-"-she lowered her voice-"Avada Kedavra?"
"There is no curse as bad as Avada Kedavra," said Lupin sharply. "What other ways have you seen the Belwit Curse used?"
Now that he thought about it, Harry had seen the Belwit Curse before, at least. He raised his hand. "Mrs. Weasley has pots and pans that cook dinner for her."
"My grandma used it on a pair of knitting needles one Christmas," said Neville, "so she could finish everyone's family sweaters in time."
"My mam uses everyday," declared Seamus. "When my sister was a baby, she fixed the changing table to do the job for her!"
"Very good examples," said Lupin proudly, "but none of you have said the example, in particular, that I'm thinking of. Miss Granger, may I count on you to provide the class a definition of the Belwit Curse?"
"It's a simple curse that gives an inanimate object the ability of thought," said Hermione. "It enchants them to perform exactly one specific function when given the command."
"Very good!" said Lupin. "Can you tell me what curse it is an offshoot off?"
"Imperius," said Hermione automatically, "and it is sometimes associated with Transfiguration." Harry gave her a grin and thumbs up for her answers, and she blushed.
"Hermione is correct," said Lupin. "It seems harmless enough, right? A curse that cooks dinner and sweeps the floor? What's wrong with that?"
Hermione's hand was up in the air again. "An object could be cursed to do harm against someone."
"Excellent. What about this? Has any one of you seen it used improperly? No one?" Lupin shook his head. "That's not the right answer. You have all seen it before."
He was behind his desk, bending over, picking something up. He stood, holding what looked like an ordinary broomstick. Suddenly, Harry caught the sight of the word "Firebolt" in gold script on its handle. Harry was the only person in school that owned such a broom.
"This belongs to Harry," said Lupin, tossing the broom gently to him. He was back behind his desk again, and he pulled out several more brooms. "This is Angelina Johnson's, Dean Thomas's-catch-these identical brooms belong to the Weasley twins, this one is Alicia Spinnet's, and this-" He held up the last broom, more ordinary look than the other six. "This broom belongs to the school, but it has been checked out by Ron Weasley for the majority of the school year. Can anyone tell me what these seven brooms have in common? Neville? Why don't you give it a shot?"
Neville was trembling; he had not had his hand in the air. "They-they-they're being used by the Gryffindor Quidditch team?"
Lupin nodded his head from side to side. "That's true," he said finally, "but not the response I was looking for. What I was hoping you would say is that the Belwit Curse bewitched them all. The brooms used by the Slytherin team two days ago were enchanted with the same curse."
There were gasps from around the class. Harry went pale, as did Dean. Harry, who had been clutching his Firebolt since Lupin had thrown it to him, dropped it onto his desk as if it were lethal.
"Now," asked Lupin. "Who doesn't believe that Belwit Curse can't be as dangerous as those considered unforgivable?" No one dared object to Lupin's claim. "Then we'll continue with our lesson.."
Lupin spent the rest of class providing demonstrations of the Belwit Curse. He taught them how to perform the simplest level of it, which could not be used for Dark magic. Then, he began talking about the counter curse. He was about to demonstrate when the end of class was called.
"We'll finish next time," said Lupin, ushering students in the direction of the door. "Harry, may I talk to you for a moment?"
"Sure, Professor Lupin," said Harry, shoving his Defense Against the Dark Arts text into his book bag. "Save me a seat at lunch, Hermione."
"You can stay, too, Hermione," said Lupin. He finished beckoning Neville out the door and shut it behind him. "Don't forget your Firebolt, Harry. I already performed the counter curse on it."
Harry looked relieved. He grabbed the broom and joined Hermione in front of Lupin's desk. "Thank you."
"It's no problem," chuckled Lupin, and his expression then turned serious. "How's Ron doing?"
"No change," said Hermione grimly. "And Madam Pomfrey won't let more than two or three people in at once. Fred, George, and Ginny don't exactly want to leave."
"Well, he is their brother," said Lupin, "but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."
"What is it, then?" Harry wanted to know.
"Other than Ron's misfortune," started Lupin, "I don't know if you realize how serious Saturday's events are. Someone out there has it in for you, Harry."
"Don't you mean that someone has it out there for the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams?" asked Hermione. "Both teams' brooms were bewitched, after all."
"True, true," muttered Lupin, "but didn't you find it curious that Ron was the only one that fell?"
"Alicia Spinnet fell, too," corrected Harry. "George and I caught her before she hit the ground."
"Is she always the steadiest on a broom, though?"
Harry thought for a moment. "No," he said finally, "she's fallen in practice before."
Lupin nodded knowingly. "Harry, I'm not telling you this to scare you, but the curses put on your and Ron's brooms were stronger than the other twelve curses combined. Whoever did this was targeting the two of you-it was more of a wrong place, wrong time scenario for the rest of the players."
"Why would someone waste time cursing all the brooms if they only wanted to hurt Ron and Harry?" asked Hermione. "And why did Ron fall while Harry didn't?"
"I'm guessing whoever did this doesn't want to be caught. It would be easier to figure out what had happened if just two brooms had been affected. When you have fourteen, it makes things more difficult," explained Lupin. "As for why Harry stayed in the air, I reckon it was all skill and broom in the end."
Harry didn't want to think about someone being out to get him and Ron. "What about the message in the sky?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
"Yes," said Hermione. "It was written in the same smoke that the message was at the Halloween feast."
Lupin shrugged. "I can't tell you that. It's not my job. I was simply asked to figure out what kind of Dark Arts had possessed the brooms, which I did."
Harry and Hermione shared a look. That wasn't like Professor Lupin. He wasn't the type to stop with the minimum about of work. On the other hand, the look on his face seemed genuine. Perhaps he really didn't know.
"Well, we'd probably better get to lunch," said Harry, tugging on Hermione's arm. "Your lesson today was interesting, Professor."
"Oh yes, it was," added Hermione as Harry pulled her toward the door. "See you tomorrow!"
"Good-bye!" added Harry. He shut the door behind him. "That's not like him."
Hermione had noticed, too. "No, it's not. I think it's time we looked into it ourselves."
"I think so," said Harry, grinning at her. He'd been thinking the same thing. "Are you really that hungry?"
"No, I'm not," said Hermione. Her brow furrowed as she looked at him. "Why do you ask?"
"Do you want to blow off lunch and try to see Ron?"
"Sounds like a plan to me," said Hermione, "that is, if you don't feel like eating."
"I can hold out till tea," shrugged Harry. "Do you want to stop by Gryffindor? You look like your back is killing you."
"Would you mind?" As an afterthought, she said, "Yes, it is. I must figure out a way to get by without all these books all the time."
"You're not taking any more class than I am this year," reminded Harry, "and I don't have that many books in my bag." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his bag to prove it.
Hermione laughed, wrapping her arms tighter around the books she was holding because they wouldn't fit in her bulging bag. "I'm not sure what it is," she confessed. "I'm always afraid that if I don't take one, I'll need it."
"That's your problem right there," he said. They had reached the portrait hole.
"What are the two of you doing, wandering the halls during your lunch time?" asked the Fat Lady. She looked down at them disapprovingly. "So many kids opting out of eating! Why, the last young man I let in, he didn't look like he could afford to skip-"
"Just dropping off my books," explained Hermione, interrupting. She lifted the stack in her arms to prove it. The Fat Lady shook her head, about to say something, but Harry cut her off.
"Tea cozy," he said, and the Fat Lady frowned, as she swung open.
"You never talk to me anymore!" she was saying as they scrambled into the tower.
"We should stop and visit her with her sometime," whispered Hermione. "She's starting to make me feel guilty. She's usually so nice, and she doesn't have the easiest job."
Harry shrugged. "Someday," he promised. "I'll wait down here for you."
Hermione disappeared up the stairs in the direction of the girls' dorms, and Harry plopped down in one of the armchairs to wait for her. Five minutes ticked by, and then ten. He was starting to wonder what was taking Hermione so long. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a scream from high above him, in the girls' dormitory.
"Hermione?" he yelled. There was no real answer, just another scream, and a loud thud. He was on the stairs in a second. "Hermione!"
Harry had never been on the girls' side of the dorms before, and he felt guilty entering them, even under the prevailing circumstances. It was laid out like a mirror image of the boys' side, and Harry rushed down the hall, not knowing which room was Hermione's.
"'Mione?" he tried again. He heard someone-someone male-cursing. He went in the direction of the sounds and pushed open the door.
It was Hermione's room, all right. She was standing with her back against the wall, and Draco Malfoy was standing in front of her, his hand over her mouth. Just as Harry swung the door open, she managed to dart out of his grasp. He cursed again.
"What are you doing here?" asked Harry sharply. Hermione was at his side in an instant, and he put his arm around her reassuringly.
"He was digging through my drawers," said Hermione shrilly. "He has the pieces of his wand in his hand."
Malfoy shook his head, taking a step closer to them, but Harry pulled his wand out.
"Don't," he warned.
"Put it away, Potter," sneered Malfoy.
"Not about to," informed Harry, his voice full of sarcastic cheerfulness.
"Look, it's not what you think it is," said Malfoy. He put his hands up and stepped back.
"Then what is it?" demanded Hermione.
Malfoy didn't get a chance to answer. Someone else had appeared in the doorway.
"What is going on in here?" said Professor McGonagall. "All of you, to Dumbledore's office immediately."
"Professor, Harry and I haven't done anything," protested Hermione. "I simply came up here to drop off my books-"
"Miss Granger, the underlying fact is that you should be at lunch, not in your dormitory. Mr. Potter, under no circumstances should I find you in the girls' dormitory, and Mr. Malfoy," said Professor McGonagall, leading all three out of the Gryffindor tower, "you should not even be on this school's grounds. Come along now, I'm sure Dumbledore will be very interested in your activities."
The three marched silently in front of Professor McGonagall. If any one of them slowed, she poked them in the back with her wand and advised them to pick up the pace. She led them right through the Great Hall, which motivated a lot of laughter and gasps and mutters. Harry glanced at the staff table, immediately noticing that Dumbledore was not there. He also got his first good glimpse of Malfoy. He was scowling, which wasn't uncommon, but he was also still dressed in his Hogwarts robes-or, at least, Harry thought he was. They were so covered in grimed that he couldn't be sure. There was even a streak of dirt across Malfoy's cheek. Someone obviously wasn't right.
Professor McGonagall took great care in whispering the password to Dumbledore's office so quietly that Harry, Hermione, and Malfoy didn't hear it. She paraded them through the doorway. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, working so intently that he didn't seem to notice they had entered.
"Dumbledore," called Professor McGonagall, "I thought you would be interested to see who I found creeping around the girls' dormitory in the Gryffindor Tower during lunch today."
Dumbledore looked up, a twinkle in his eye. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger! What a surprise-" He broke off as Malfoy appeared from behind the two. "Mr. Malfoy."
"I'll leave them to you," said McGonagall quickly. She seemed to retreat from the circular office before the words even left her mouth.
Dumbledore eyed each of his students (and former student) with the same curiosity. Finally, he waved his wand, muttered a spell, and three chairs materialized in front of his desk. "Sit," he demanded.
They did. Dumbledore eyed each of them separately. "Miss Granger," he said, "why don't you start? You're the one that's least out of place in that area. What were you doing there during lunch?"
"I was dropping off some of my books," said Hermione earnestly. "Professor Lupin wanted to talk to Harry and I after class, and afterwards, I wanted to drop off some of my extra books because my bag was getting too heavy. Harry said he'd wait for me in the common room, and he did. When I got to my room, I saw him-" she pointed to Malfoy, "-going through my things. He tried to keep me from screaming, but I eventually managed to anyway. Harry must have heard me because he was up there a few seconds later."
Dumbledore nodded. He looked to Harry.
"Malfoy had Hermione pinned up against the wall and his hand over her mouth. He was cursing and looked angry," said Harry, trying to stay calm. "Hermione managed to get away from him and said he'd been going throw her drawers and had his broken wand."
"Although I should be asking what you were doing on Hogwarts grounds in the first place, I will wait," said Dumbledore, turning to Malfoy. He had slouched down in his chair and wouldn't look the headmaster in the eye. "Why were you in Miss Granger's dorm room?"
Malfoy muttered something, and even Harry, who was sitting right next to him, didn't catch it.
"Say that again, Mr. Malfoy," ordered Dumbledore. "What is it that you're saying about a wand?"
"I said I was putting the pieces of my wand back," said Malfoy sullenly.
"Were you putting them back or were you taking them?" asked Dumbledore, obviously thinking he had said it wrong.
"I was putting them back," mumbled Malfoy. He finally looked up, and Harry noticed he also had a gash underneath his left eye. "I found them in a little bag at the bottom of Granger's trunk, but I couldn't find the little bag again. I was trying to put it back where it came from."
"How long have you had it?" asked Dumbledore sharply. He wasn't the only one looking at Malfoy intently. Hermione and Harry were also.
"About a week," muttered Malfoy. He slouched again, and he looked at the floor.
"That's enough," said Dumbledore suddenly. "You may go on, Mr. Potter and Miss Granger. I have no choice but to give you a detention for your actions, however, so report back here tonight after dinner. Mr. Malfoy, we aren't done yet."
Harry and Hermione scrambled out of the chairs. They were still curious about Malfoy's reasons for being at the school, but they weren't likely to know anytime soon.
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