CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: EXIT, PURSUED BY RESPONSIBILITIES

America stared up at the sky, biting his lower lip in thought as he walked. Yes, there was definitely plenty of room for Tony to fly in. He'd be pretty exposed, though, and Tony was really camera-shy. Then again, everyone around would be witches and wizards. If they looked out the window and saw a flying hunk of metal, they'd barely bat an eyelid. Operation: Eagle-Horse Rescue was looking good.

His thoughts were dragged down from the clouds by someone putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him in his tracks. He looked down and saw that Harry was the owner of the hand, and that the Care of Magical Creatures class had reached the castle. America turned his attention back to Hagrid, who was currently sobbing into his handkerchief. Wanting to cheer him up, he said, "I totally zoned out there and have no idea what you were talking about, but don't worry, Hagrid! I've got a plan! Everything's gonna turn out awesome!"

Hagrid gave him a tearful, faint, disbelieving smile, before turning around and heading back towards his cabin. America didn't have time to formulate an opinion on that before a familiar nasal whine hurled itself at his ears. "Look at him blubber!" The Three Stooges had been listening in, and Malfoy was being… well… Malfoy. "Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic? And he's supposed to be our teacher!"

America, Harry and Ron all made moves to inflict some form of bodily harm on him, but Hermione beat them to the punch. Or, rather, slap. Hell, just 'slap' didn't do it justice, America thought as he watched Malfoy stagger. That was a full-on Bitch-Slap of Justice. "Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul – you evil –" Her hand rose again for the highly-awaited (at least for America) encore.

"Hermione!" said Ron weakly, reaching out to stop her.

Thankfully, Hermione would be having none of that. "Get off, Ron!" She pulled out her wand. Malfoy stepped backwards, and Crabbe and Goyle were looking as if their single shared brain cell had imploded.

"C'mon," Malfoy muttered, showing a surprising self-preservation instinct as the three of them fled like the cowardly cowards they were.

America whistled. "Da-yum."

"Seconded," said Ron, staring at Hermione in equal parts shock and awe.

"Harry, you'd better beat him in the Quidditch final!" said Hermione shrilly. "You just better had, because I can't stand it if Slytherin win!"

"We're due in Charms," said Ron, still looking at Hermione like she'd suddenly transformed into Wonder Woman. "We'd better go."

The four of them started up the stairs towards the classroom, but they'd gone only a couple steps before Hermione grabbed America's sleeve. She pressed a finger to her lips, silently urging him to be quiet, and pulled the Time-Turner out. Shoot. Right, we've got… uh… something. I think we might have too many classes. Hermione lowered the chain over his head and turned the hourglass once. The staircase dissolved like a bad scene transition, and for a few moments it felt like he was flying backwards through that creepy tunnel from Willy Wonka. Then it stopped and everything was totally normal again.

Hermione hid the Time-Turner again and set off purposefully. "You finished the essay, didn't you?" she asked as America hurried to catch up. "If you wrote down pop song lyrics again while I wasn't looking, Professor Vector is going to be very cross."

Right, Arithmancy! I totally knew that. "Of course I didn't!" Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. "I wrote down Disney song lyrics, but they were just placeholders until I thought of something to write. Which I did, eventually," he added in the face of her disapproval.

Hermione sighed. "I can't believe you're actually doing pretty well in this course." America simply gave a shrug and a grin in response.

Arithmancy was, as usual, a whirlwind of complicated numbers and words being relentlessly thrown in America's face. He wrote it all down, anyway, because once he was looking it all over later he'd have an epiphany and suddenly it would all make sense. That probably wasn't a very good learning method, but it worked. Plus, it wasn't as if America would suddenly be unemployed because he got a bad grade. About an hour later he wandered out of the classroom in a daze, with only Hermione's guiding shoves to keep him from walking straight through a window and plummeting to a not-death that would be very tough to explain. As the two made their way to the Great Hall, America couldn't shake the feeling that he was forgetting something. He ignored it. He forgot a lot of things, and if Hermione wasn't bugging him about it, it probably wasn't that important.

They were just outside the Entrance Hall when America stopped to look out a window. "Hey, Hermione? Does that owl look mad to you, or is it just me?"

Hermione looked up from the (very thick) book she'd been reading as she walked. "Hmm?" She followed his gaze. "No, that owl looks very angry."

"It's been following us for a while now," said America. He gasped, stepping in front of Hermione. "IT'S A DEMON OWL!"

Hermione shoved him out of the way. "No, Alfred, it's probably got a letter for one of us. I wonder why it's late…" She opened the window, and sure enough the demon owl held out a leg with a letter attached to it, glaring at him all the while. It flew off as soon as Hermione had removed the letter. She looked at it briefly, then held it out to him. "It's for you."

He took it, and was overjoyed to recognize the handwriting. "IT'S TONY! OPERATION: EAGLE-HORSE RESCUE IS ABOUT TO BEGIN!" He ripped the envelope open and began to read the letter.

Even America had to admit that Tony's methods of communication could be a bit… odd. A cursory glance at anything he wrote would reveal only a flood of profanity, but if one took the time to read between the lines his true meaning shone through. In this case, America almost wished he wasn't so good at understanding his friend. Reading a whole page of swearing would be far more amusing.

"WHAT?!" he yelled, clutching the letter so hard it almost ripped.

Hermione looked up from her book. "What's wrong?"

"Since when does technology not work at Hogwarts?!"

"Pretty much since before advanced technology was invented," said Hermione. "I told you to read Hogwarts: A History, didn't I?"

"What- but- but I…" He read the letter again. Roughly translated, it said, Spaceships don't work in that place. I tried flying through there once when we were trying to scare that limey bastard at Halloween, and I crashed and was nearly adopted by some family. It was horrible. You're on your own. All of America's anger drained away. His hands fell limply to his sides, the letter falling to the ground. "… I can't do it. I can't save Buckbeak."

"There's still the appeal," said Hermione encouragingly. "We've got twice the manpower now, I'm sure we can find something that will make the Committee change their minds!"

"Hermione, I appreciate you trying to cheer me up," said America. "But I kinda just want to be depressed right now. I'm gonna go back to the Common Room and cry about how much homework we have. Later." He wouldn't admit it aloud, at least while he was in Angst Mode, but he was relieved that it only took Hermione a few moments to start following him.

There wasn't very much crying, in the end. America's feelings on his homework were much better expressed via sustained loud yelling. Hermione mostly just worked on their new Arithmancy reading, occasionally nodding and giving vaguely affirmational noises when she felt a response to his complaining was necessary. Eventually America was yelled out and fell asleep.

He was feeling much better when he woke up, except for the fact that someone had repeatedly prodded him to accomplish it. "I'm up, I'm up!" he said, slapping the offending hand away. Ron winced and rubbed his freshly-slapped hand.

On his other side, Hermione was being prodded awake by Harry. "Wh-what?" she said, waking up suddenly and staring wildly around. "Is it time to go? W-which lesson have we got now?" She must have fallen asleep after him. America felt quite proud of their teamwork.

"Divination, but it's not for another twenty minutes," said Harry. America groaned and let his head collide with the table with a dull thunk. At least with Arithmancy, the daze he walked out of the classroom in was because of the sheer amount of (hopefully) useful information he was trying to absorb. With Divination it was from sheer boredom. "Why weren't you two in Charms?"

America would have facepalmed if his face wasn't currently resting on the table. As it was, he raised it slightly and slammed it back down. I knew I forgot something! "What? Oh no! I forgot to go to Charms!" Hermione squeaked.

"But how could you forget?" asked Harry. "You were with us till we were right outside the classroom!"

America raised his head for real this time. "We got distracted by an owl that was carrying the response Tony sent me. Apparently, magical castles and spaceships don't mix, so Operation: Eagle-Horse Rescue is a bust." Wow, coming up with lies is getting way easier! Practice makes perfect, I guess.

"And I was just so angry about Malfoy, I completely lost track of things," said Hermione. "Still, I can't believe I was so careless! Was Professor Flitwick angry?"

"You know what?" said Ron, looking down at the weapons-grade enormous book Hermione had been reading. "I reckon you two are cracking up. You're trying to do too much."

"I AM LIMITLESS!" America declared.

"Yes, we're fine!" said Hermione, brushing out her hair with her fingers and looking around for her bag. "We just made a mistake, that's all. We'd better go and see Professor Flitwick and say sorry… We'll see you in Divination!" She put her book back in her bag (she was going to be totally ripped by the time she got out of school), slung it over her shoulder, grabbed America's sleeve, and began dragging him out of the Common Room.

Professor Flitwick was perfectly understanding. He was a pretty chill dude. Or maybe he just noticed that Hermione was looking a bit like she might start breaking things at the slightest provocation. Whatever his reasons, he told them what they'd missed and encouraged them to be more thoughtful next time.

"They have a spell that is literally called a Cheering Charm?" America wondered aloud as he and Hermione trekked to Divination. "Why isn't everyone perpetually happy, then?"

"A Cheering Charm only briefly boosts your mood, it hardly grants true happiness," said Hermione. "Oh, I can't believe I forgot an entire class! We'll need to know about the charm for our exams, I just know it!"

"Hermione, you already know pretty much every spell known to mankind, I think you'll be good," said America. "Seriously, dude, you need to chill." Hermione only responded with a brief glare before pulling a book out of her bag and beginning to read as she walked. This gave America the opportunity to give her an appraising look without seeming creepy. She was looking the very opposite of chill. She was looking rather pale, her hair was even bushier than usual, and there were bags under her eyes. Her wide, manic eyes. He wasn't about to say it out loud (that book had enough heft to crack skulls), but he had to wonder whether Ron had a point about their workload. America himself barely had any time to draw self-insert superhero comics anymore, which was truly a tragedy of Shakespearean levels.

Hermione clearly wasn't in a chatty mood, so America whistled to himself until they reached the North Tower. Harry and Ron were waiting for them, and the four climbed up the ladder and took their seats around a table. A crystal ball was sitting in the middle of it. "I thought we weren't starting crystal balls until next term," Ron muttered, looking around to make sure Professor Trelawney didn't suddenly manifest from the shadows to scold him.

"Don't complain, this means we've finished palmistry," Harry muttered back. "I was getting sick of her flinching every time she looked at my hands."

"Good day to you!" said the familiar, misty voice as Professor Trelawney manifested from the shadows. As much as he might dislike her, America had to admit she had her dramatic entrances down pat. "I have decided to introduce the crystal ball a little earlier than I had planned. The fates have informed me that your examination in June will concern the Orb, and I am anxious to give you sufficient practice."

Hermione snorted. "Well, honestly… 'the fates have informed her'… who sets the exam? She does! What an amazing prediction!"

"Yeah, what'll she predict next, 'the sun will rise tomorrow'?" sniggered America.

Some more hippie mumbo-jumbo later and they were all staring blankly into the crystal ball. As time passed and the most interesting thing to happen was Ron coughing, America had to wonder whether Professor Trelawney was just pulling their collective leg. Apparently emptying your mind was the key to this, and England had always said that America had the emptiest mind he'd ever encountered.

"Seen anything yet?" Harry eventually asked.

"Yeah, there's a burn on this table," said Ron, pointing. "Someone's spilled their candle."

"Hey, you're seeing into the past! Progress!" said America.

"That's not how it works," said Hermione. "This is such a waste of time. I could be practicing something useful. I could be catching up on Cheering Charms –"

Professor Trelawney chose that moment to glide by. "Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shadowy portents of their Orb?"

"I don't need help," Ron whispered. "It's obvious what this means. There's going to be loads of fog tonight." America, Harry and Hermione all burst out laughing.

"Now, really! You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!" said Professor Trelawney. America didn't know much about 'clairvoyant vibrations' (except that it would be a great name for a band), but looking around he could see they were certainly disturbing everyone's concentration. Then again, it was Divination. They would have been distracted by just about anything. Professor Trelawney came over to their table and peered into the orb.

"Oh, boy," America half-murmured, half-sighed. "Here we go."

"There is something here!" Professor Trelawney whispered dramatically. "Something moving… but what is it? My dear…" She gazed up at Harry. "It is here, plainer than ever before… my dear, stalking towards you, growing ever closer… the Gr-"

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" Hermione practically screamed. "Not that ridiculous Grim again!"

"Yeah, seriously!" America concurred. "We get it! Harry's going to die a tragic, untimely death! Could you move onto something else already?"

Professor Trelawney stood up and looked down at the two of them with, for the first time, legitimate anger. "I am sorry to say that from the moment you two arrived in this class, my dears, it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly Mundane."

There was a moment of silence as America tried to decide whether or not to take 'Mundane' as an insult. Hermione made up her mind faster, though. "Fine!" she said, getting up and shoving the textbook back in her bag. "Fine!" She slung the bag on her shoulder, nearly hitting Ron in the face. "I give up! I'm leaving!" With that, she strode over to the trapdoor, kicked it open, and climbed down the ladder out of sight.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, America, feeling too tired to try and top Hermione's exit (though there was not a doubt in his mind that he could have if he'd wanted to), simply stood up, grabbed his book, said, "Ditto," and left as well.

A/N: Okay, peeps, enough's enough, I AM FINISHING THIS BOOK BY THE END OF SUMMER IF IT KILLS ME! Wish me luck! No questions, so let's wrap this up. NEXT CHAPTER: The Quidditch final. See you all next time!