A/n: Ah, what would be we without HP, I wonder?
And a voice without a doubt
tells me: "we'd go under!"
"You don't have to shout!"
I exclaim, for I
I know for a fact
'Till death I'd cry
If ever HP's story would die
(that pretty much sums it up)
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Chapter 10: Yet Another One
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Before uncle Vernon had even taken place at the table for breakfast, Harry had helped his aunt prepare it, had been yelled at for burning the bacon (which he still hadn't learned to do right), had sneaked an apple and a banana under his clothes and gone out the door.
The creature had stirred all night, keeping Harry awake as he constantly distracted it by whispering or stroking it. It seemed to help to keep it quiet. And when the sky began turning grey, it had fallen back into a slumber. Harry hoped it would sleep through the day again. Uncle Vernon had to go to work, and Dudley might be at a friend's house, but aunt Petunia would most certainly be home, and she had sharp hearing.
The raven had had time to think it through while lying awake, and had decided to start in the library where he usually went to read books for his assignment for Snape's class. It was where he'd gotten his copy of Heinrich von Ofterdingen. He could not buy his own copy like Draco had bought his Le Compte de Monte-Cristo.
He would then ask the librarian who seemed to like him to help him.
As it turned out, the librarian very much wanted to help, but it was a rather small library she ran, and it was primarily filled with literary works of fiction, no science. She perused the shelves with Harry, but they only found some works about anthropology, and a dusty encyclopaedia about insects.
Harry was disappointed, and in a hurry to find something else. The baby thing had to eat!
The librarian was kind enough to draw him a little map to another library where she knew he would find many books about animals, wildlife, the earth, even the universe. Harry practically ran all the way. He felt so uneasy about having the creature alone in the house, exposed to the cruel ways of the Dursleys. He wanted to be back as quickly as possible. He didn't want it to go away or die. He was clutching this new hope, maybe tighter than he should.
When he arrived at the other library, he immediately noticed the difference. This one was much bigger, cleaner, with a more official-looking counter and employees. They were even wearing name-tags, like in stores. It didn't feel nearly as cosy and familiar as the small room stacked with old books he'd just come from. And he now faced the problem: where to begin?
It had been easy to talk to the librarian before, she was the only one there, and she had seemed to like him pretty easily. But here, Harry had to go up to one of those adults, and talk to them. He didn't like the idea at all. His stomach clenched, and he broke out in a sweat. What if they thought he was dirty, or disrespectful? What if they yelled at him? What if they told him to leave, or laughed at his too small clothes?
The raven preferred staying out of sight. It felt much better to wander off between the shelves. He would try on his own first, he told himself.
After fifteen minutes of searching without results, he finally realised there was a second floor. He came across the stairway in a corner of the broad room and sighed at the sight of it, thinking of all that he hadn't seen yet.
Upstairs, he found a room the same size. Half of it was filled, not with shelves of books, but with tables and chairs. And along the walls were tables with computers on them. They immediately caught his attention. There had been a computer in the study at his home. Sometimes it had been Lily working on it until morning, and sometimes his father. He saw it when he went to the bathroom at night and slipped quietly past the slightly opened door.
And during the day, when he was allowed to be up, they had sometimes let him use it. Usually he just played games, but they'd showed him how to read books on the computer, and also a program with which he could write himself! He'd been excited about that. He'd started very slowly typing words and phrases, but had not yet progressed very much.
Anyway, no time for daydreaming! Harry tore his eyes away from the machines and examined the room further. There were much more people here. At every table there was at least one person with books spread around them. With some, it looked like there had been an explosion of paper, with half-ripped books to show for it; and with others every sheet was straight, all pencils neatly stacked.
It was so quiet Harry felt self-conscious about his breathing. But he couldn't hold in a gasp when he saw who was sitting at one of the tables.
Some people looked just as surprised at this person's presence as Harry was. Although, in retrospect, Harry thought he should've known Hermione would spend her holidays in a library. Where else?
But he wasn't going to complain. This was a gift straight from heaven! Hermione was the one who had told him not to feed things when you don't know their diet in the first place. She would know what to do, and he wouldn't have to ask one of the people with name-plates.
Harry slipped in between the chairs as silently as he could, and then touched his friend tentatively on the shoulder. Hermione jumped and dropped her pencil to the floor. Wide-eyed, she looked around. It took only a second for her expression to warm up.
"Harry!" She exclaimed in a whisper. A few people looked up. "You scared me! I wasn't expecting my mum until noon." She explained.
"Ah, they leave you here alone?" Harry was surprised. The Dursleys never let 'Dudders' out of their sight. And his own parents had not allowed him to stray further than a few yards when they'd been outside the house.
"Well, yes. It's fine as long as I don't go outside. But I have to go home for lunch." She sounded sullen, as if she wished to continue working without even a break. "But what are you doing here?" She asked as she gestured to the empty chair next to her. Harry sat down, facing her, and she turned to do the same.
The raven wanted to solve his problem as quickly as possible, but his mind was distracted once again when he saw what she was busy with.
"You're studying math?" He asked, stunned.
"Well…yes…" Hermione answered, flushing slightly. She seemed unsure whether Harry's comment was a positive or a negative one.
"During the holiday?" He continued.
It was clear for Hermione now that he'd meant she was crazy. Her heart tightened, readying itself for another rejection. She'd seen this so many times. Her classmates always thought her strange, arrogant, and annoying whenever they learned that she went to the library to study. She'd done it the year before, and everyone had laughed at her. Now she'd gotten a new chance at a new school, she'd made sure to keep it a secret.
Sure, Harry had been her friend until now, but what if he turned on her?
She picked up her pencil from the floor to have an excuse to look away, and tried not to purse her lips when she re-emerged.
"You work for Miss Snape's class during the holiday too, don't you?" She whispered in a weak voice, avoiding his gaze.
Harry noticed her change in attitude, but didn't understand what the problem was. He didn't really have time to think about it much. He peeked a last time at her notes, amazed at what he was seeing. Hermione was good at math. He was bad, and she was good.
And Ron is abysmal. He thought to cheer himself up, then immediately felt guilty about it.
"I need your help." He said, getting straight to the point. He hoped it didn't seem like he was taking advantage of their friendship to use her intelligence. But to his surprise, his attitude seemed not to have a negative effect at all. Quite the contrary, it broke the tension that had suddenly come up, and Hermione brightened up considerably in the space of another second. It puzzled the raven.
What she said didn't really fit with her brightened mood though.
"Oh, Harry. I really didn't understand that paragraph you showed me. I can't…" she seemed to almost bite her tongue in frustration "make sense of it."
It took Harry a moment to catch up with her, to understand what she was talking about. Then he remembered her frustration when he'd asked her for help a few weeks ago with a passage from Novalis' book.
"It must be a mistranslation somehow." She rattled on before he could say anything. "Maybe if you found another version, I'm sure there are many…"
"Wait," he interrupted her, a bit too loudly. People 'shhhh'ed'. "I'm not talking about that" he mentally hit himself on the head, remembering that he still hadn't gotten anywhere with his essay, "I have another problem."
Hermione was all ears, and after slipping down the stairs to get away from the accusing gazes of all the much older and intimidating students, Harry explained how he'd found the creature, and what it looked like. The first thing she asked was why he hadn't asked his parents. After all, her order of consultation was always a grown-up first, and then a book. He told her he wasn't allowed to have pets or other animals at home.
"Well, you said its beak was crooked, right?" She asked when they'd finally decided to start looking for a book.
Harry nodded in assent.
"That means it's a bird of prey, one which eats meat rather than seeds and such." It didn't take long for her to find a book about it on the second floor, where Harry hadn't looked yet. They took it back to the table where she'd been sitting, and they quietly flipped through the pages and looked at the pictures. There were entire profiles of each bird of prey, with pictures of adults, and chicks too.
About halfway through the book, Harry recognized the ugly little thing, with the half-exposed skin, the closed eyes and the grotesque shape.
"That's it!" He exclaimed, pointing a finger at the picture as Hermione started reading the profile.
"Well," she began after a few minutes of silent reading, "it says here they can eat a wide range of animals. Primarily small rodents, squirrels, hares, marmots, or small birds even. They're pretty opportunistic. The young are fed by the parents. The mother tears the prey to pieces for the young ones to swallow." She looked up expectantly, as if waiting for Harry to say or do something.
"Uh," he said tentatively, "so, where am I going to find shredded rodents?" A mental picture of aunt Petunia's reaction if she ever saw such a thing in her house came into Harry's mind. It wasn't pretty to behold.
"Actually," Hermione began with a proud air, and Harry recognized 'bossy/nosy/haughty' Hermione as she stuck her head out. "I know someone who knows all about taking care of animals. Whenever a wounded or lost bird or hedgehog gets into our backyard, we take it to him. They always get well, and then he releases them into nature."
"That's great, Hermione!" Harry couldn't keep his enthusiasm from flowing over. His friend looked slightly flushed and embarrassed. Again, he wondered what he had said or done to make her change. But this 'shy' side of Hermione was actually kind of cute. He thought that if she were like that more often, she'd have much more friends.
In any case, he was very grateful for her help. All they needed to do now was go there and this person would save the creature. Harry jumped of his chair and stood ready, waiting for Hermione to pack her things, but she hadn't moved an inch and simply stared at him questioningly.
"Well?" He urged.
"Now?" She asked, her voice rising distinctively. "But… I'm not allowed to leave!" She protested.
Ah, yes. He remembered. But he couldn't wait any longer. Who knew how long the bird had gone without eating? Maybe it was already dead, lying under his radiator. The idea suddenly filled the raven with dread and horror, and a noticeable surge of panic.
The young girl, though still one year older than him, noticed the change in his expression, and felt her own heart compress. This boy, the first one who seemed to care about her just a little, was in trouble. They were friends, right? And friends helped each other out, whatever the cost. Hermione heart swelled at the idea of such a noble quest.
"All right!" She exclaimed. Again, the students around them looked extremely displeased. But it was no longer their problem. In a few minutes, they were out the door and wandering the suburban streets alone, on their way to what to them looked like a far, far-away destination.
Whatever the raven had had in mind when his bushy-haired friend had told him on their way about a person named Hagrid…it hadn't been this.
They had arrived at the edge of a small forest, and entered a wooden cabin that looked like it came straight out of a fairy-tale. Even the inside had seemed magic, with all kinds of things hanging from the ceiling beams, and a great hearth taking up almost half the living area. It had truly amazed the dark-haired boy.
But when he first met the actual Hagrid, Harry nearly fainted. (Though that might've been caused by the hunger ripping through his belly.) The man was so incredibly large! Harry could've worn one of the gloves hanging beside the door like an overlarge hat. The top of his head barely reached the man's waist, and both he, Ron and Hermione could've organized a birthday party in his trousers.
"Hagrid!" Hermione called warmly as he let them in. "I'm so happy you're home!"
"Ah, yer lucky, yer know. I was jus' abou' to go out to the forest. Yer know the birds get stuck on the lake in this weather." He explained thoughtfully. Then his eyes fell upon the tiny shape following Hermione. From his perspective, he could really only see a head of black feathers. "Who's this?"
"Oh, Hagrid, this is Harry. Harry, Hagrid." She introduced them.
"Pleased meetin' yer, Harry!" He said jovially. The raven though he could distinguish a smile underneath the bushy black beard. Only the eyes were visible really, but they clearly showed a warm expression. The man's face was less scary than his size.
"A friend o' yours?"
"Yes." Hermione answered hesitantly, but proudly.
"Ah, gotta get yer kids somethin' ter drink. Just made some cookies las' nigh'." Hagrid winked at them, and turned away to a large kettle which was resting on a stove in the makeshift kitchen. He filled it with water from the tap and turned on the gas. A few minutes later, they were all seated around an equally large table, and presented with wild-flower tea and something Harry guessed to be chunks of volcanic rock. His stomach was growling, but even in that condition he had reserves about touching the food. It was only after he saw Hermione pick one off the plate and carefully nibble on it that he decided he could risk it.
It tasted like charred Styrofoam, with a hint of cinnamon. But it was chewable, and it filled his stomach, so Harry swallowed and quickly found himself taking a second one while Hermione and Hagrid talked about the last hedgehog her parents had dropped off. Hagrid looked very pleased and at the gesture and pushed the plate a little towards him, while Hermione looked rather surprised, even concerned as she examined him up and down as if expecting a seizure. Harry just shrugged and bit down on the second rock, almost breaking off a tooth.
"Yer got a healthy appetite there, eh boy." He laughed. Then he turned back to the little girl with the bushy-brown hair. "So, what brings yer here?"
Okay, my poem from before pretty much blows :p Does anyone have something better to offer? How would minstrels sing about Harry Potter's epic adventure?