Waaaaa! It's been almost 3 weeks since I last updated! I'm so sorry for my absence, school has been kicking my butt, especially with many rehearsals for Advanced Acting and with many, many, many early band mornings (I'm so glad I decided not to join volleyball because then I'd have to wake up even earlier). I hope y'all enjoy this chapter, we're about to get to the good stuff, which I'm very excited about! Please R/R, xxxx

Chapter 12

Shocking Surprises

That night, hardly anyone in the Gryffindor Tower slept. Alyssa Yambor, who, it turned out, had an uncle that was killed when Black blew up the street filled with Muggles, was hysterical, and it took Rachel and Zaine a lot to calm her down, and she was one of the only ones to sleep, her head on Rachel's lap, sniffing once every while.

"Here," said Hermione, standing in front of Rachel and Zaine and handing them two cups of water. "I got some from the dormitory."

"Thank you," said Rachel silently, taking the water and drinking quietly.

"Is the castle being searched?" asked Zaine.

"Percy says so," Hermione said.

"If Black got away at Halloween, he can get away now," said Rachel. "I doubt they'll find him."

They waited until dawn, when Professor McGonagall came back to tell them that Sirius Black had escaped once again.

The whole day, Rachel saw security getting tighter. Professor Flitwick tried to teach the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was boarding up tiny cracks, mouse holes, and anything in between in the corridors. Sir Cadogan's portrait had been taken back to its lonely landing on the seventh floor, and the Fat Lady was back, restored. She was extremely nervous, and only agreed to take the job again if there was extra protection, so a bunch of surly security trolls had been hired to guard her. They paced the corridor in a menacing group, talked in grunts, and compared the size of their clubs.

Harry, Rachel noticed, was worried about the statue of the one-eyed witch on the third floor, which remained unguarded and unblocked.

"D'you reckon we should tell someone?" Harry asked Ron and Rachel.

"We know he's not coming in through Honeyduke's," said Ron dismissively. "We'd've heard if the shop had been broken into."

Ron had become an instant celebrity. For the first time in his life, people were paying more attention to him than to Harry, and it was clear that Ron was rather enjoying the experience. Though still severely shaken by the night's events, he was happy to tell anyone who asked what had happened, with a wealth of detail. Rachel, who had heard the story many times by now, was quite tired of listening to it.

"…I was asleep, and I heard this ripping noise, and I thought it was in my dream, you know? But then there was this draft… I woke up and one side of the hangings on my bed had been pulled down… I rolled over… and I saw him standing over me… like a skeleton, with loads of filthy hair… holding this great long knife, must've been twelve inches… and he looked at me, and I looked at him, and then I yelled, and he scampered.

"Why, though?" Ron added to Harry and Rachel as the group of second-year girls who had been listening to his chilling tale departed. "Why did he run?"

"He must've known he'd have a job getting back out of the castle once you'd yelled and woken people up," said Harry thoughtfully. "He'd've had to kill the whole House to get back through the portrait hole… then he would've met the teachers…"

"But if he came to kill you, why wouldn't he just do so?" said Rachel. "I mean, he didn't mind killing a street full of people twelve years ago, and if killing you would help Voldemort to rise back to power, he'd be seen as nothing but a hero by Voldemort's followers."

Harry and Ron shrugged their shoulders at Rachel and they continued on with their homework.

Neville was in total disgrace. Professor McGonagall was so furious with him she had banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits, given him a detention, and forbidden anyone to give him the password into the tower. Poor Neville was forced to wait outside the common room every night for somebody to let him in, while the security trolls leered unpleasantly at him.

Rachel felt terrible for him. He was a clumsy boy, and she felt bad that they had to call off their Hogsmeade get-together, for he'd seemed very happy when she said yes.

None of these punishments, however, came close to matching the one his grandmother had in store for him. Two days after Black's break-in, she sent Neville the very worst thing a Hogwarts student could receive over breakfast—a Howler.

The school owls swooped into the Great Hall carrying the mail as usual, and Neville choked as a huge barn owl landed in front of him, a scarlet envelope clutched in its beak. Rachel recognized the Howler at once, remembering when Ron had gotten one a year ago.

"Run for it, Neville," Ron advised.

Neville ran for it. He sprinted out of the hall while the Slytherin table exploded with laughter at the sight of him, and they heard the Howler go off in the entrance hall, shrieking about how he had brought shame on the whole family.

"Ouch! Oh—thanks, Hedwig."

Rachel looked around from the door at Harry, whose wrist had been nipped at by his owl Hedwig, who carried a letter.

Harry tore open the envelope while Hedwig helped herself to some of Neville's cornflakes. Rachel leaned over the table to read the note:

Dear Harry and Ron,

How about having tea with me this afternoon 'round six?

I'll come and collect you from the castle.

WAIT FOR ME IN THE ENTRANCE HALL;

YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED OUT ON YOUR OWN.

Cheers,

Hagrid

"He probably wants to hear all about Black!" said Ron. "Rachel, are you coming?"

"As long as you keep your story short," huffed Rachel.

At six o'clock that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and Rachel left the Gryffindor Tower, passed the security trolls at a run (Rachel didn't like them) and headed down to the entrance hall.

Hagrid was already waiting for them.

"All right, Hagrid!" said Ron. "S'pose you want to hear about Saturday night, do you?"

"I've already heard all abou' it," said Hagrid, opening the front doors and leading them outside.

"Oh," said Ron, looking slightly put out.

The first thing they saw on entering Hagrid's cabin was Buckbeak, who was stretched out on top of Hagrid's patchwork quilt, his enormous wings folded tight to his body, enjoying a large plate of dead ferrets. A hairy brown suit and a very horrible yellow-and-orange tie hung from the top of Hagrid's wardrobe door.

"What are they for, Hagrid?" said Harry.

"Buckbeak's case against the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures," said Hagrid. "This Friday. Him an' me'll be goin' down ter London together. I've booked two beds on the Knight Bus…"

Rachel sighed. She'd tried her best to help him prepare Buckbeak's defense, but she'd gotten very side-tracked. Still, she knew that Hermione had been very busy with it

Hagrid poured them tea and offered them a plate of Bath buns, but they knew better than to accept; they had had too much experience with Hagrid's cooking.

"I got somethin' ter discuss with you two, Harry and Ron," said Hagrid, sitting himself between them and looking uncharacteristically serious.

"Why just us?" said Harry.

"What?" said Ron.

"Because Rachel didn' do anythin' wrong."

"Is this about Hermione?" said Rachel.

"What about her?" said Ron, turning around to look at Rachel.

"She's in a righ' state, that's what. She's bin comin' down ter visit me a lot since Chris'mas. Bin feelin' lonely. Firs' yeh weren' talking to her because o' the Firebolt, now yer not talkin' to her because her cat—"

"—ate Scabbers!" Ron interjected angrily.

"Which is what all cats do, Ron," Rachel pointed out cautiously. "It could've been Remo, too."

"Oh, don't you defend her now, too—"

Hagrid interjected, "She's cried a fair few times, yeh know. Goin' through a rough time at the moment. Bitten off more'n she can chew, if yeh ask me, all the work she's tryin' ter do. Still found time ter help me with Buckbeak's case, mind… She's found some really good stuff fer me, as did Rachel… reckon he'll stand a good chance now…"

"Hagrid, we should've helped as well—sorry—" Harry began awkwardly.

"I'm not blamin' yeh!" said Hagrid, waving Harry's apology aside. "Gawd knows yeh've had enough ter be gettin' on with. I've seen yeh practicin' Quidditch ev'ry hour o' the day an' night—but I gotta tell yeh, I thought you two'd value yer friend more'n broomsticks or rats. Tha's all."

Harry and Ron exchanged uncomfortable looks while Rachel glared at them. Though she was on no-ones side, Hermione didn't deserve the treatment they've been given her.

"Really upset, she was, when Black nearly stabbed yeh, Ron. She's got her heart in the right place, Hermione has, an' you two not talkin' to her—"

"If she'd just get rid of that cat, I'd speak to her again!" Ron said angrily. "But she's still sticking up for it! It's a maniac, and she won't hear a word against it!"

"Ah, well, people can be a bit stupid abou' their pets," said Hagrid wisely. Behind him, Buckbeak spat a few ferret bones onto Hagrid's pillow.

They spent the rest of their visit discussing Gryffindor's improved chances for the Quidditch Cup. At nine o'clock, Hagrid walked them back up to the castle.

A large group of people was bunched around the bulletin board when they returned to the common room.

"Hogsmeade, next weekend!" said Ron, craning over the heads to read the new notice. "What d'you reckon?" he added quietly to Harry as they went to sit down.

"Well, Filch hasn't done anything about the passage into Honeydukes…" Harry said, even more quietly.

"Harry!" Hermione said. She'd been sitting at a table nearby and made a hole through her books.

"Harry, if you go into Hogsmeade again… I'll tell Professor McGonagall about that map!" said Hermione.

"Can you hear someone talking, Harry?" growled Ron, not looking at Hermione.

"Ron," Rachel warned.

"Rachel, stay out of it if you're going to take her side," Ron snapped.

"I'm taking nobody's side," Rachel snapped back. "But I think Hermione is right."

"Ron, how can you let him go with you? After what Sirius Black nearly did to you! I mean it, I'll tell—"

"So now you're trying to get Harry expelled!" said Ron furiously. "Haven't you done enough damage this year?"

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but with a soft hiss, Crookshanks leapt onto her lap. Hermione took one frightened look at the expression on Ron's face, gathered up Crookshanks, and hurried away toward the girls' dormitories.

Rachel glared at Ron as she went after Hermione.

On Saturday morning, Rachel stayed in with Hermione.

They were seated by the window among the first-years, trying to figure out their Arithmancy homework while also answering questions the younger Gryffindors had. What took Rachel quite by surprise was that one of the boys, Cody Morris, had quite a bit to say about Jeremy.

"A really nice guy, he is," said Cody while writing down something from his textbook. "And smart—"

"Obviously you would know that," muttered Alyssa, and she and Romilda Vane and Jane MacCartney burst into giggles.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Rachel with raised eyebrows while Hermione grinned weakly at her from over her notes.

"Oh, nothing, of course," said Cody, flushing, and he quickly brushed his ginger bangs out of his eyes. "Is anybody hungry? I've still got some Chocolate Frogs in the dorm up—up in the dorm," he stuttered.

Cody swiftly grabbed his stuff and made a run for it, closely followed by Jacob Homesteeds, John Reasor, and Jesse Virtue. The girls left, too, giggling about something.

"What's all that about?" said Rachel, quite shocked.

"I think somebody's got a crush on your brother, Rachel," said Hermione, giggling as well.

Rachel now giggled, too, and the two bowed back over their Arithmancy book.

"Hey, I don't suppose what this could mean, do you?" said Hermione, showing Rachel her work.

Rachel squinted at the page to read better, "It's supposed to be our names, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"You added it up wrong," said Rachel. She pointed at it with her quill. "In fact, you did all the numbers wrong. Didn't Professor Vector say that you can't use a zero?"

"It's what it said in the book," Hermione shrugged.

"Let me try. Jean is your middle name, right?"

Hermione nodded and Rachel quickly went to work. Once she'd figured out all the math, she returned the paper to Hermione.

"Your character and heart numbers are both one, your social number is three," said Rachel.

"Great. Thanks," said Hermione. "I'm guessing you're the Arithmancy wiz here, not me."

They both chuckled and then silence came upon them once more, which was only broken by a small ticking against the window.

"Hedwig!" Hermione gasped when she looked up.

Rachel jumped up and hurried to the window, letting Hedwig in, and she carefully took the letter the owl was carrying. While Hermione petted Hedwig, Rachel unrolled the parchment, which was dam from enormous teardrops. The ink was smudging together in several places.

Dear Hermione and Rachel,

We lost. I'm allowed to bring him back to Hogwarts.

Execution date to be fixed.

Beaky has enjoyed London.

I won't forget all the help you gave us.

Hagrid

"No!" Hermione said. "They can't do that!"

"We've got to find Harry and Ron and tell them," said Rachel hastily. "They'll know what to do, won't they?"

"Yes," said Hermione, her lip trembling.

The two girls hurried out of the common room and found Harry and Ron walking toward them at the end of the corridor where the security trolls faced.

"Come to have a good gloat?" said Ron savagely as Rachel and Hermione stopped in front of them. Rachel frowned. "Or have you just been to tell on us?"

"No," said Hermione, her lip still trembling as Rachel clutched the letter, teardrops falling on the paper. "We just thought you ought to know… Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to be executed."