HIS FURRY LITTLE PROBLEM
Harry lay in bed late the next morning as Dean, Seamus, Neville, and Ron moved around getting changed.
His, Ron's, and Hermione's conversation from last night seared into his brain. He felt like he was going to be sick.
Voldemort targeting him was one thing. But his two best friends...their families...
"Which classes do we have today?" he moaned.
"None," said Ron. "It's Saturday. First Hogsmeade weekend, remember? Jones'll be along to collect us after breakfast."
Harry stayed in bed, trying to wake up. Hogsmeade...was that wise? Ron and Hermione out of the castle's protection? What if the Slytherins tried to grab them again? What if Voldemort sent Death Eaters after them again? What if—
Ron roared with laughter at something Seamus was showing him.
Harry at once felt a pang of guilt. He couldn't be the one to tell on his best friends. What if...what if he just told Dumbledore when they got back from Hogsmeade? If Harry told the professors now, there is no way Ron or Hermione would be permitted to go.
Ron and Hermione deserved a day of fun before being locked up.
But you told Ron and Hermione last night that you would tell Dumbledore as soon as possible. That would be today at breakfast.
Harry weighed the two choices in his mind.
It was very possible that nothing would happen today anyway. Or that they stayed at the castle while everyone else went to Hogsmeade, and Slytherins got after them there. Them being with Harry and their Defense teacher, and let's not forget the Dean of Hogwarts, was a far safer bet.
Besides. They had the D.A. who were told to be on the lookout. Everything was going to be fine.
The D.A. was moving forwards quite admirably. The older students were now being trained to fight in combat—duels were held regularly between Moony and Harry so they could teach how to block, how to attack, how to think under pressure, how to aim while running. Their lessons became a favorite of all the students attending—it quickly rose in popularity and Harry's classmates were soon rivaling it to Quidditch.
As Jones had said, Defense Against the Dark Arts was moving along fairly well too. They all soon fell into the habit that it had become.
For two hours on Monday, they learned things by-the-book. Mostly it was a history of Voldemort's past; they had covered his time at Hogwarts (the class was particularly stunned to learn about Tom Riddle setting the snake on the Muggle-borns), and were going to be going over his time at Borgin and Burkes—and Voldemort cursing the Defense Against the Dark Arts position—within the month of October.
On Thursdays, however, they put their books away and had a practical lesson. These two hours were usually spent learning defensive spells and tactics—Harry in particular had become the best at casting the Defensive Charge.
"Everything I am teaching you now is what you should have learned last year," Jones had said at the start of term. "If we keep hard at it, you should have this all finished sometime after Halloween. If you haven't joined the D.A. yet, I highly suggest you do—they're covering more than half of this stuff, so I can proceed in teaching you offensive tactics."
Harry stared up at his maroon canopy, his stomach finally settling.
They were planning on spending most of the day at the Shrieking Shack with Moony. With Jones escorting them there, and Aurors there as well, plus Moony with them, Ron and Hermione would be all right…
Wouldn't they?
"Oh, c'mon, Harry," said Ron, snatching the blanket off Harry's bed. "There must be someone you want to get out of bed for."
Harry sighed, tried rather hard not to think of Ginny, and finally got up.
They met Hermione in the common room. She looked rather pink as she wrestled Crookshanks in her arms. Neville reached up to scratch the cat under the chin from his position on the armchair.
"Oh, stop it, you," she muttered.
Neville blinked. "I'm going to assume you're talking to your cat," he said hesitantly, but backed away from her anyway.
"You're not taking that thing, are you?" said Ron, narrowing his eyes at the sulking Crookshanks.
"Of course I am. He needs a new collar—he's completely chewed the other one off—and Balderdash's Bestiary has just come out with a new magical collar that is charmed to tell you where your pet is at all times. I thought that would be rather handy, as Hogwarts is so big. But in order for it to work, I need to bring him with so he can be fitted for it," she explained to them.
"Oh, you're going to the Bestiary too?" said Ginny, joining them. "I was hoping to buy a pet with my birthday money. Hopefully a cat or mouse, as Ron already has an owl, and I really can borrow Pig any time. D'you mind if we meet Luna there?"
Harry glanced at her, then found he couldn't look away. Ginny looked rather pretty in the dark green jacket that off-set her red hair, with her blue jeans and a violet blouse to match.
"What're you staring at?" said Ginny bluntly at Harry.
"You—er—look nice, is all," he said, blushing.
"So?" said Ron, suspicious. "Hermione looks nice too, and I don't see you drooling over her."
Hermione did look nice, Harry saw. Her hair was more slicked down than usual, and her white blouse and brown corduroy skirt made her look rather bookish, but in a good way.
Hermione's cheeks grew faintly pink. "Why, thank you, Ron."
"Just sayin'," Ron said to his shoes. "Better than the other day, anyhow."
Neville raised his eyebrows. Hermione's smile vanished. Just then, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil started giggling.
"How do you like my ensemble, Ron?" said Lavender, fluttering her eyelashes at him. She twirled around, showing off her coral pink dress and jean jacket.
"Er..." he said, taken aback. "It's okay..."
They giggled again and left.
"So!" said Ginny sarcastically into the silence. "Now that we've established our fashion sense is top-notch, can we be going?"
That suited them much better than standing there in awkwardness, and they headed towards the entrance hole.
"You coming, Nev?" said Harry.
Neville started. "Sure," he said, following them out the door.
When the five of them entered the Great Hall for breakfast, they saw quite the crowd around the Gryffindor table. And for some reason, Fred and George Weasley could be found in the middle of it.
"Why're you two here again?" moaned Ron, plopping down next to them. "We were going to come down to Hogsmeade and see you today anyway. Can't get enough of Hogwarts, can you?"
"Pleasure to see you, too, little bro," said Fred. "Your smiling countenance upon greeting us is simply overwhelming."
"Fancy meeting you here, Harry," said George. "Word in the Daily Prophet is that you're off gallivanting with Dumbledore. Tracy Beatlemeyer, aged forty-seven, saw you just three hours ago in Penzance, having a spot of tea with the Headmaster just outside her window. However did you get up here so fast?"
"Students aren't allowed to use the Floo here, you know," said Fred. "Forbidden, it is. And Firebolts are fast, but news travels faster—"
"And Apparition is far out," said George. "Which leaves—why, Fred! We must have an Animagus on our hands!"
Fred threw his arm around Harry. "Beetle or billywig?" he said seriously.
"Ha, ha," said Ginny, rolling her eyes.
Harry, however, wasn't paying any attention. He saw Dumbledore seated at the head table for breakfast, and he wondered again if he should tell him right now.
Ron saw him staring. "You telling him after breakfast?" he muttered so his siblings couldn't hear.
Nodding, Harry shoveled some more eggs into his mouth, trying to look more involved in his food than in conversation.
When Harry was done, he drank his orange juice and stared up at the staff table again. He saw Professor Snape talking with Professor Jones. Neither seemed very happy.
In hushed tones, Harry told the others at his table about the few times he'd heard the Potions and Defense professors arguing.
"Trying to do her job for her, he is," said Ron, looked up at the staff table. "Foul-mouthed bast—"
"Tsk, tsk," said Fred. "What would our dear mother say if she knew of our baby brother's habitual foul language?"
"This sure puts a firecracker in our plans," said George, discouraged and leaning back.
"My foul language?" asked Ron, perplexed.
"No, halfwit," Fred said. "Just the other day, we saw Lupin and Jones strolling about Hogsmeade. I was so sure they would wind up together. And now it looks like Snape has come to steal the werewolf's woman. Though I suppose threesomes aren't out of the question—"
"Wait, what?" said Harry, grinning. "You reckon Snape was arguing with her because he...he likes her?"
Hermione and Ron both snorted into their porridge.
"That's absurd!" said Hermione.
"Rubbish," Ron agreed.
The conversation kept going on about the possible Jones/Lupin/Snape triangle, but Harry couldn't stop staring at his two best friends right in front of him.
Sure wouldn't be the first time someone argued with someone else because they liked them.
Ron and Hermione have been going at it for years, and I'd bet my broomstick it's because they both secretly like each other.
Really, he wasn't surprised. It would have taken a Snargaluff pod not to notice the reasons that kept them fighting; how jealous Ron would get when Hermione was with Krum, how furious Hermione became when Ron did not realize her (albeit misplaced) intentions of trying to protect him.
He first noticed it back in fourth year, at the Yule Ball. Ron had been blatantly obvious about his feelings to everyone but himself, and as far as Harry knew, he was still clueless about it.
But did Harry really even want them to hook up together? Sure, that might ease the quarrelling, but...what if they were like Harry and Cho, going out together for a few months, then breaking up horribly? Harry couldn't even look at Cho nowadays without feeling embarrassed or queasy. What if this happened to Ron and Hermione? Their friendship would be completely ruined, their own friendship with Harry would be destroyed as an off-set, and any chance that Harry had to kill Voldemort would be gone—
He simply couldn't do it without them.
It was then he realized that he didn't want them to get together. He didn't want their relationship to change, not for anyone or anything. He didn't want the beau Hermione finally chose to get between her friendship with Harry and Ron, nor did he want any girl he and Ron chose to get between them.
It would be better that way, he decided. It would be better for all of us if we just put each other first, and anyone else comes later. We won't be split up then. We could be friends forever then.
It sounded childish even to him, but he didn't care. He just needed everything to stay the same until he had a chance to get to Voldemort. After that, if they wanted to go their separate ways, he could deal with it then.
Suddenly he was reminded of something he had done quite recently to jeopardize all of that.
He told Ginny of the prophecy. Before telling Ron or Hermione.
Forget how they would react once he told them the prophecy—how would they react when they found out he'd told Ginny first?
He paled a bit at this.
"You all right, Harry?" said Hermione.
He looked up to find Ron and Hermione staring at him, concerned. "Er...yeah...sorry."
"Oh, you should have heard them talking," George was saying.
It took Harry a second to remember what they were talking about. Many people around them stopped their own conversations to look over at them. Noticing they now had an audience, the twins perked up a bit at this.
"There we were, just minding our own business," Fred began in a storyteller's voice. "When they come strolling around the corner, hand in hand, eyes on eyes, heart to heart. Such a sweeter sight never could be found—"
"And we were just innocently washing the windows of our shop—"
"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes!" Fred shouted out to the masses. "The best prank shop ever to be had, opening Halloween day in Hogsmeade!"
"And we heard them talking," George interrupted with gusto. "First, she asks him if he has a problem that he needs help with, and he says he does."
"'Oh, really?'" Fred put on a high voice for Jones. He fluttered his eyelashes and grinned dreamily. "'However do you mean?'"
By now the entire vicinity was laughing, spurring the twins on.
George's voice grew low and husky for the voice of Lupin. "'Oh, well, you know the kind. I wake up once a month to find myself out of sorts—growing a tail, a snout, sharp teeth, you know the feeling—and wondered if you could help me with my…furry little problem….'"
"'Oh, Remus!'" purred Fred amidst snickers. "'I'd love to!'"
The room grew oddly silent, but the twins didn't notice.
"'So whaddya say we...get together, say, at the next full moon? I'll bring the moonlight and fur coats...you could bring the firewhisky and elfwine...'" George rumbled.
"Oh?" said a dangerous voice behind them. "And what do I say to that?"
The twins' heads snapped up and their faces paled at the sight of Professor Jones.
"Oh, well, er—" stammered George.
"—you'd—er—well, see—" stuttered Fred.
"I do see," said Jones acerbically. To the others, she said, "We're meeting in the third-floor corridor in a half-hour. I'll escort you into Hogsmeade from there. And you two," she stopped, looking back at the twins, "Had better not be with them, for your own sakes."
As she walked away, George comically wiped the unseen sweat from his brow.
Just then, owls swooped into the hall.
"Where's Errol?" said Ginny, scanning the flocking birds above their heads. "Mum and Dad said they'd send us something—"
"There he is!" said Ron, pointing. "Slowpoke as usual. Wait, why's he—"
The messy owl suddenly swooped so low that several girls shrieked, before he collided right into a large bowl, sending pudding flying everywhere.
"Eurgh," said Ron, picking it out of his hair. "Is it just me or is this term much messier than usual?"
"Erm..." said Ginny, prodding the stiff bird. "He's not moving..."
"I can't believe it—!" said Fred, looking closely at the fallen bird. "He's finally croaked it! He's not breathing at all, look!"
George pried the letter from the dead bird's beak. "Poor mite. He was ancient, though."
"Do you...reckon we should bury him?" said Ron, uncertain.
"Oh, what'll we tell Mum and Dad?" said Ginny, distressed. "They loved him! Remember when Errol was nosing around Dad's office and delivered Perkins' toupee to the Minister instead of Dad's report?"
Fred snickered.
Ron still looked concern. "How're we going to pay for another one? We can't use Pig all the time, he's only good for a few trips a month. Since Dad's been cutting back on hours, there's no way they can afford another one anytime soon..."
"Well...I did save up enough to buy a pet anyway," said Ginny, hesitant. "I suppose I could..."
Fred and George looked at each other, expressions unusually serious. "Never fear, Gin. It looks like we'll be accompanying you into Hogsmeade."
"But we don't have the money—"
"Fred and I'll pay for it," said George simply. "We've got enough left over from the store, and we really don't need those doxy eggs for another few weeks..."
Ginny threw her arms around George. "Thank you!"
"Oi!" said Fred, looking put out. Ginny hugged him next.
"No matter what anyone says," she declared, "You two are sweet after all."
"I do believe our reputation has just been ruined," said Fred to George.
"Hey, what about me?" said Ron, looking hurt.
Ginny shrugged. "Get an owl for someone else because they can't afford it, and you'll get one too."
"All right, done," said Ron simply.
She blinked. "What?"
"Pig. You like him more than I do, I get sick of his fluttering far too much, you wanted a pet anyway, and now you can save your money for something else. Sounds good enough for me," he said.
"But...then what would you get out of it?" she asked.
"Not having to deal with a pet anymore just about does it for me," said Ron, smirking. "I don't think I could handle it if he turned out to be another Animagus, anyway. If you want him, he's yours."
Ginny squealed and threw herself at Ron. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
Ron looked rather alarmed as he awkwardly put his arms around her and looked at them.
"Ron, that was really—" Hermione started.
"Awww!" chorused Lavender Brown from the table over. "You're so sweet, Ron!"
Fred and George, meanwhile, had their mouths open in indignation.
"We get measly hugs and you get that?" said Fred.
"Who made you her favorite brother?" said George, sullenly.
It wasn't much longer till they finished breakfast and headed to the third floor corridor, where they met up with the rest of the students being escorted by Professor Jones. Fred and George went on ahead, skirting around the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor nervously. She led the students through the statue and into the tunnel under Hogwarts grounds.
Hermione kept her eye on their professor, trying to read her.
Although Hermione hadn't said a word to Harry and Ron since that night she ruined Harry's mother's book, she still didn't trust Professor Jones. Something about her just seemed so...off. As determined as Hermione was to get to the bottom of it, however, she knew she couldn't just go barging into the Defense office and demand to know why. That was a fool's errand. It made much more sense to gather as much information about the witch as she could. Collect evidence. Bide her time. Research.
And then...when Hermione had exhausted all efforts and come to a logical conclusion...she would go to Professor Dumbledore. He would know what to do.
Crookshanks squirmed in her arms, and Hermione switched him to her other arm, groaning a bit at his weight, remembering her third year.
Going to the Headmaster first had been the plan when she first suspected Professor Lupin of being a werewolf, all those many years ago. Obviously she couldn't have just gone to Lupin and demanded he tell her that he turned into a monster once a month. Fourteen-year-old Hermione had the same dilemma back then too. Confront him...and possibly risk him attacking her, or killing her, in order to keep his secret quiet? She knew it would have been all too easy for him to make it look like an accident. No...and for Hermione to have gone to Harry and Ron with the werewolf information she had collected? She knew there would be no way they would believe her. Not to mention their not talking to her…
If only she'd had the common sense to look more into stupid Scabbers. She should have known he was an Animagus. She should have known better. So focused on protecting Harry, she never thought that Ron would need protection even more…
Of course, even if she had somehow suspected Wormtail like she had Lupin, nobody still would have believed her.
This time, it was no different.
Nobody would believe her about Professor Jones. And nobody else would suspect Jones. She was far too well-liked. Becoming everyone's favorite professor pretty quickly, Jones was rather forward with all of her intentions. Hermione quite liked her too, really.
But the inconsistencies. Although Hermione didn't have the diary anymore to refer to (she cringed again, thinking about this and Harry's rightfully-placed fury), she could remember them as if she'd read it an hour ago.
When Hermione approached Professor Jones after class the other day, she brought the ink-soaked diary with her. Forlornly, she asked Jones if perhaps she had the other copy that Hermione could loan for Harry's sake. But Professor Jones had already known about the everlasting ink spill. She pulled out her own copy, which was drenched in it as well.
"You forget, Miss Granger," said Hestia Jones. "It's a two-way diary. What happens to one...happens to the other. I surmised what must have happened to Harry's copy when I discovered mine like this. I thought it was regular ink at first, but after none of the regular erasing and cleaning charms worked, it didn't take a genius to work out the damage was from everlasting ink."
"I just feel so...foolish. Moronic. If I hadn't pushed Harry…" Hermione said sorrowfully.
Professor Jones smiled, putting her hand on Hermione's shoulder.
"To err is human, Ne—erm...Miss Granger," Professor Jones caught her mistake, eyes a little fearing at what she almost slipped out. "Sorry, I forgot who I was speaking to for a moment…"
Hermione studied her, but Jones turned away, hiding her face as she summoned books and folded papers that were left out by the students. With her wand, she righted chairs that were knocked askew, straightened desks, and opened the windows to air out the musky room.
"Professor...while I was reading...I noticed some things that were odd to me," said Hermione next, careful about her phrasing.
She edged closer to Jones' desk while Jones walked around the room, checking the desks for anything that shouldn't be there.
"What do you need help with, Miss Granger?" said Jones.
Hermione bit her lip.
"You grew up with magical parents, right?"
"Yes, I did."
"In England? Where at?"
Jones turned to face her, eyes suspicious. "London. Why the interest?"
Hermione looked down at her fingers, drumming on Jones' desk. "No reason," she said, rather fast. "Thanks for your time. I truly am sorry about the diaries. Is there any way I can make it up to you?"
Approaching her once more, Professor Jones still looked at Hermione with a guarded expression. Hermione fidgeted under her gaze, eyes going back to the desktop once more. And in that miniscule moment in time, Hermione saw a book partially-covered by parchment. Only a portion of the title could be seen, but what was there was enough to halt Hermione's thoughts.
Jones strode closer, and dropped the leftover textbook she was holding onto her desk. Right onto the book Hermione saw, hiding it.
"I trust you got the birthday gift I sent you?" said Professor Jones.
Hermione flushed at being caught seeing something she shouldn't have.
"Yes, I...thank you. I really appreciated it. You didn't need to..."
Jones smiled. "It was my pleasure. I've really loved having you in class. You bring a lot of...insight. And joy for learning. It is something teachers always want to see."
Hermione smiled back.
She turned to leave the classroom, curious as to what the professor had almost called her. What name started with 'Ne'? But nothing came to mind (Neville? Nearly Headless Nick? Newt Scamander?), and she left the Defense classroom, rather confused as to whose side Professor Jones was really on.
Of course, even with the diary completely ruined, she could remember everything she'd read.
Young graduate Hestia going to see her mum, who should have been dead. Hestia, who couldn't make up her mind on if she was pureblood or muggle-blooded. Hestia, who was really close friends with Severus Snape, who everyone knew dabbled in the Dark Arts back then and was a Death Eating, not-yet-turned-spy for Voldemort… Hestia Jones, who had quite the few dalliances with werewolves, mentioning their packs several times in the book.
Like an insider would.
And of course she couldn't forget the book title she had seen on Jones' desk.
The Werewolf Cur—
Hermione, of course, ran wild with this.
Possibilities kept chasing each other down in her mind. Was Hestia a werewolf? It was possible...the first full moon since school started happened just before the start of term. She would have been human enough to escort them to the castle. The next full moon had been on the twenty-sixth...that was two nights ago. Jones would be well enough now to escort them to Hogsmeade.
Of course, she didn't act like a werewolf...not like how Professor Lupin acted when he was the Defense professor, anyway…and would the Headmaster really let two werewolves into his school at the same time?
Was Jones infectious?
But still, Jones' lies could be several other things. Perhaps she was a spy for the werewolves, like Professor Snape was for the Death Eaters. Perhaps she was spying on the Order for Voldemort. Or on Voldemort for the Order. Or maybe she was working alone, not having a side yet, and was hiding something very secretive about her past—
Hermione wasn't paying attention to her where she was going.
The ground dropped sharply and she stumbled. Falling against Malfoy, of all people, who was trying to shove past her.
"Oy, watch it, Granger!" Draco Malfoy said rudely. "Don't want your filthy Mudblood hands getting all over my brand-new cloak."
Crookshanks hissed in her arms and swiped at his hand. Hermione was pleased to see that her cat's claws connected with the Slytherin, a few drops of red appearing on the back of Malfoy's hand.
Malfoy swore at her.
Before she, Harry or Ron could say anything to that, Professor Jones appeared behind them, her expression tight-lipped with anger.
"Mr. Malfoy, you have just cost your house twenty-five points for your language," she said dangerously.
At once, the Slytherins sucked their breaths in, and Malfoy said angrily, "What? But that's not fair—"
"If you've been told that life is fair, you are sadly mistaken. I will take off however many points I wish to anyone who abuses others in my presence, is that clear?" said Professor Jones.
He stared back at her then gave a slow nod and muttered, "Yes."
"Good," she said, then her eyes flashed at the rest of them. "And that goes for all of you. You are all students, you all have the same classes and coursework and teachers—you even wear the same uniforms. If any of you think that you are above anyone else in this school, you couldn't be more wrong. Especially," she said scathingly, turning back to Malfoy. "When you're someone who scraped by with an 'Acceptable' in this class and you're talking down to someone who received an 'Outstanding'."
Malfoy turned pink and glared over at Hermione, muttering under his breath. Professor Jones walked to the front again and continued on.
Hermione heard a few low whistles and a flurry of whispering at what had just transpired.
As they walked by Malfoy, she noticed a few Slytherins glaring at Jones, but there were some that were glaring at Malfoy instead; and a few of the braver Hufflepuffs smirked at Malfoy as they walked by him and said, "Nice going, Malfoy. Looks like you've just put Slytherin in last place."
Ron pulled Hermione along and she belatedly realized that she was so caught up in watching Malfoy that the rest of the class had passed them by as well. All except for Lavender Brown.
Lavender hung back and waited for them to catch up. "Hello," she said in a strangely low voice. "You weren't distracted by me, were you, Ron?"
"Er...no..."
"Oh. Well, good. I love a man who knows what he wants," she said before flouncing away.
Ron looked at Harry, who shrugged, and Hermione agreed with them wholeheartedly.
Girls are weird.
All too soon, the Hogwarts students emerged out from Honeydukes and into the golden sunshine.
Hermione breathed in the wonderful crisp autumn air as they walked along the main street of Hogsmeade, wooden and metal shops with their second-story flats above them rising high on either side of the winding cobblestone street. Patched roofs and high gabled windows loomed in the coming dark storm clouds as they walked amidst the bustle of darkly-cladded and hooded witches and wizards.
The first place the boys wanted to go to was Zonko's Joke Shop. It was now being sold out by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and everything was half-off.
"Can you believe that Fred and George sold out Zonko's before they've even opened?" said Ron, impressed. "They said it was because their catalogue went out a few weeks ago, and ever since then Zonko's hasn't had any business at all, even if WWW's customers won't get anything till Halloween. They are that good..."
Hermione simply rolled her eyes at them and left them to it. "Boys," she muttered.
She took Ginny and Luna with her over to Gladrags Wizardwear, where she was eager to spend her birthday money for the upcoming Halloween ball.
Because of the twins paying for a new family owl and Ron giving her Pigwidgeon, Ginny decided to use her money to buy dress robes for it instead too.
"My other ones don't fit anymore, anyway," she said haughtily. "And since I'm not NEWT-level and not exactly allowed to go...if it all goes to pot by then, I'll just make Neville take me again."
Hermione fingered a gold chiffon pattern.
"Well, you know what the remedy is, don't you?" she said to Ginny, then turned to her, smirking. "Ask Harry before someone else does."
Ginny blushed the same shade of salmon pink she was looking at. "And who says I need to ask him?" said Ginny. "He could come to me first, you know."
Luna smiled. "Harry is beginning to like you, Ginny. He keeps looking at you when he thinks nobody is watching. And he drinks an entire cup of elderberry juice every morning."
Ginny stopped. "Er...sorry?"
"Everyone knows that elderberries have humbug eggs in them," said Luna, surprised that this information excluded them. "Humbugs help people to realize their greatest desires. That's why Harry's rather full of it."
Hermione suppressed a smile, and Ginny smirked.
"Hermione, what about this one?" said Ginny, holding up a dark, red dress. "I mean, it's the same shade as elfwine, but…"
"Elfwine? What is that?"
Ginny bit her lip. "You know what, it's not important. Nevermind. It will certainly match Viktor Krum, if not—"
"And who said anything about Viktor coming," said Hermione, eyes narrowed.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, Lavender told me all about the necklace he gave you. Durmstrang colors, then? Isn't this one of them? He was right, it would be good on you...goes perfectly with that necklace, too..."
"Oh, stop it," said Hermione crossly as Ginny and Luna laughed. "You're worse than the Twittering Twins, I swear! They kept teasing me about Viktor and his gift, and I told them the same thing I'll tell you: the only way I'll go with Viktor is if no one else asks me. The ball is over three weeks away, anyhow. Anything could happen until then."
"Anything like...Ron growing a brain and realizing you love him?" said Ginny.
"I don't love him!" Hermione retorted. "I just...wish he'd see I'm a girl, is all. And available. And his best friend..."
"He does notice it a lot now," said Luna, twirling her long hair on her fingers. "But he's not going to realize what it means for another month."
The two girls looked at her. Crookshanks wove in between their ankles, ducking under the dresses, but they paid him no mind.
"You know, Hermione..." said Ginny, stroking the red dress. "I reckon if you start going out with Krum, that might cut the time by half."
Hermione drew her breath in at this. "But I...I couldn't! I wouldn't do that to Viktor, and I couldn't do that to Ron."
Hermione bit her lip, and Ginny eyed her.
"Go on, then, tell us," Ginny said impatiently. "You're doing that thing again."
Hermione gave in. "All right...listen...I haven't told Ron or Harry this: Viktor asked me on a date for today, and I said yes. Not because I want to start a relationship with him," she said hurriedly as Ginny grinned, "But because he deserves to hear how I feel from me. It wouldn't be fair to him if we started going out because of how I still feel about Ron. Even if nothing is going on between Ron and me...I just don't feel as strongly for Viktor as he feels about me. I can't ask that of him. And I won't go out with him if there's no possibility of me falling in love with him."
"Oh, but couldn't it just be a fling?" said Ginny, wistfully. "That's all Dean and I were over the summer. We both agreed that would be it, and now he's with Mandy Brocklehurst and I don't feel jealous at all! I only told Harry I was still going out with him so he would feel jealous."
"Yes, but I'm not like you, Ginny!" Hermione replied forcefully. "It's always been Ron. You know that! Ever since my third year...I've just known. And if he moves on this year...if he never notices me for himself...then...well, that will be it. I'll move on as well."
Ginny grew quiet at her reserved tone. "Why can't you just tell him, Hermione? I hate what this is doing to you. Wouldn't it just be easier to tell him yourself?"
"No!" said Hermione. "You know Ron. If I tell him that I like him, it will just confuse him. He'll tell me on the spot that we should go out together, just because he doesn't want to hurt me...and I'll just be left wondering the entire time whether he really likes me back, or whether...whether he's just too afraid to say no, and doesn't want to hurt my feelings."
She stared at the pumpkin orange dress in front of her that reminded her so much of Ron.
She continued bitterly, "Either that or he'll just bluntly refuse and laugh at me in the face. Either way, our friendship is ruined. Either way, one or both of us is left feeling utterly miserable. Either way, he'll hate me for telling him. I just...I can't do it. Our relationship means too much to me. Being friends with Harry is one thing, but being friends with Ron..." Hermione shook her head, speechless. "I just can't throw everything we have away just because I think I like him."
Ginny threw her arms around Hermione and unexpectedly hugged her from behind. Hermione gave a small smile, and hugged her back. Luna, however, turned away and noticed something gleaming on the opposite shelf.
"This one," said Luna.
"What?"
"This dress, Hermione. It fits you the best," she said.
In her arms, she held up the perfect set of dress robes.
In no time at all, the girls met up with the boys, who were all sporting matching looks of glee. They all walked to the Bestiary together, where they found Fred and George. Hermione immediately lugged Crookshanks into the store, and Luna browsed around for some food for her Moon Frog.
"Sappho eats twice as much as other Moon Frogs," she explained to Harry. "She really shouldn't be the size of my face, but she is."
"Any of you interested in buying a new pet?" said the store manager eagerly. "We've just received a new batch of Cruppies and Knittens!"
"Cruppies and Knittens?" said Harry in an undertone to Ron.
"Yeah," answered Ron. "Puppies and kittens. You know, from Crups and Kneazles? They're quite common wizarding pets. I've always suspected that Crookshanks is part-Kneazle, myself..."
Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny ended up getting a chameleon owl named Napoleon to be the new Weasley family owl. It was interesting, walking down the streets of Hogsmeade as Napoleon kept changing colors to match the changing October leaves behind them.
Luna got a bag full of dead bugs for her face-sized frog, and Hermione was very excited to show off Crookshanks' new magical collar as they gathered around her in the street to ooh and ahh at it.
Crookshanks rubbed up against all their legs as if showing off his brand new toy while Hermione held a stone tablet in her hand that showed an intricate map of Hogsmeade. A red, blinking dot showed where Crookshanks was with them.
"Look, see, it can't show everyone else on the map like…" she broke off, casting furtive eyes at Harry. The words 'The Marauder's Map' almost shot right out of her mouth, but she remembered their company just in time. "...like other maps can," she finished. "But watch this! Majuscula!"
She spoke to the tablet in an authoritative voice. To their amazement, the map zoomed in and showed a real cat weaving its way around peoples' legs in a street.
She spoke again. "Miniscula!" The map zoomed out of the street as it got smaller and smaller, till even Hogsmeade itself was just a small dot on the map, showing the whole of Scotland, till even Scotland itself was a small blurb on the map as it showed the world. And still, the bright red dot showed where Crookshanks was in relation to the world.
"Wicked!" the Weasleys all exclaimed.
"It only works if the collar stays with him, of course," Hermione said, tucking away her tablet, pleased at the attention and at her new toy. Frustrated with the lack of attention he was receiving, Crookshanks took off. Hermione let him go, most likely pleased now that she had a sure way to track him.
"Pity we can't get a cat collar to stick on You-Know-Who," said Ron ruefully. "Imagine how useful that would be…"
"Hey, let's go to the Hog's Head," said George. "I'm fancying a shot of firewhisky instead of butterbeer today."
"Wish we could go as well. I hate not being of age!" said Ginny glumly.
Instead, Harry, Ron and Hermione said goodbye to Ginny, Neville, and Luna, who were off to the Three Broomsticks, and parted ways with Fred and George as well.
With an umbrella charm over their own heads to block out the coming drizzle, and the sky steadily getting darker even though it was nearing lunchtime, the three of them traipsed down the muddy path to the Shrieking Shack to visit Remus Lupin.
"I can't believe Moony lives here," said Hermione in a hushed voice as they neared the 'haunted' house.
Harry could see why she was whispering. It felt like they were walking into the yard of somebody who'd died. The lawn was completely unkempt with yellowing grass and weeds growing in tufts everywhere. There was hardly a path for them to walk up to the front door without little garden gnomes reaching out to grab them. Under the graying sky, the house stared down at them, black windows empty beside decaying, termite-infested wooden siding. Even the porch had cobwebs everywhere.
It really was a huge house, Harry thought, staring up at it. There were three floors, plus the basement, and countless rooms. It just looked...a little worse for wear, was all.
Harry remembered that Lupin had told him there were no working doors or windows that let anyone outside come in. The only entrance was through the tunnel. But that wasn't the case now, as Moony must have added loads more doors and windows since moving in permanently.
If it wasn't so derelict still, it might have looked…
Homey.
As soon as they had run onto the porch to give them cover from the coming deluge, Harry reached up a tentative hand to the door. He was surprised when it didn't fall off its hinges with his knock.
There was a faint croak from inside. "Come in."
Harry opened the door. He was astounded to see Moony sprawled on the couch in a haggard appearance, looking very worse for wear. There were dark circles around his eyes, his lips were chapped, his hair askew, and his breathing came in shallow measures.
All in all, he looked more like their old professor of third year than their new dean of sixth year.
Hermione gasped and ran to his side. "Moony!"
Crookshanks came out of nowhere and streaked into the house behind her. He headed straight for the bathroom, where gnawing mice could be heard. Ron darted inside as well, though for a very different reason—a particularly long-legged spider had been dangling right above his head in the doorway.
Harry closed the door behind him and looked around. The inside of the shack was better than the outside, but not by much. The living room had a worn-down fireplace, a mismatched couch and armchair, moth-eaten curtains and a rope-braided rug. If the floor had been swept recently, they sure couldn't tell—most of the dust on the floor seemed to be ingrained into the wood flooring.
The adjoining kitchen wasn't much better. There was no food in the cupboards and the magical icebox in the corner had charms that were clearly dying off, judging by the stench coming from the room.
"Sorry, I...had a rough...night," said Moony from the couch, groaning as he tried to sit up. "'Fraid I won't...be much...of a host."
"Not from the full moon, surely? That was two nights ago! Shouldn't you be—"
But Harry saw the look in Moony's eyes that Hermione missed.
"You were attacked, weren't you?" he said quietly. "You were on a mission for Dumbledore. But I don't see scratches on you, so it couldn't have been the werewolves…"
Remus Lupin looked guiltily at them all.
"I'm sorry...but you're right. Really perceptive, the lot of you. I was helping Dumbledore with something. We were...retrieving something important. Vitally so. Can't defeat Voldemort without it. And no, I can't tell you what it is yet." Moony had too talk louder to be heard over Ron and Harry's barrage of questions about what the mission was. He was far too tight-lipped, however.
Hermione fluffed up the pillow behind his head in an effort to make him more comfortable. Harry and Ron, meanwhile, couldn't stop staring at how awful Lupin looked. His face was white and rather gaunt, and when he held his arm out, it shook.
Seriously, what the hell happened...
"Somehow," Ron muttered, "I don't think chocolate is going to cure this one..."
"You really shouldn't be living by yourself like this...Harry, could you wet a clean rag in the kitchen?" said Hermione, taking off her jacket and getting right to business. "Let's get you comfortable, professor. Then you can take a nap, and we'll get your house sorted out in no time."
"Er—we will?" said Ron.
"Of course we will! It's the least we can do to help. And it's not like you had anything else productive planned, Ron," she said.
Harry brought her a very questionable rag, and cast a quick cleaning charm on it before applying it to Moony's forehead.
There was something very motherly in the way Hermione took off Moony's shoes and socks and propped his feet up on a pillow—quite like a doting daughter would have—that left Harry in awe. He had never seen this side of her used on a teacher before, he realized.
"Harry, could you help me take off his cloak? And Ron, he needs a glass of water," she said.
As Harry helped take off the outer cloak off Moony—whose arms were rather heavy despite his half-open eyes—whilst Ron tried his hand at the new spell they were learning in Charms.
"Aguamenti," muttered Ron. "Aguamenti...aguamenti...agua—aaarrrgghh!"
Harry snickered as water shot straight into Ron's face.
"The tap also works fine," said Hermione dryly.
They laughed.
Author's Note:
Favorite line? Any thoughts on what will happen next? Anything you want to have happen next? Let me know in your review! Thanks for reading. :) Cheers!
