Chapter 56: Emotional
It wasn't until I was halfway across the castle that I came to a stop, throwing my bag aside and curling up into a ball on the floor at the foot of a suit of armor. I clutched my knees, pulling them towards my chin and cried. I cried for all the days I had spent without friends before coming to Hogwarts. I cried for all the nights I had gone to bed feeling utterly alone. I cried for every day I hadn't let myself cry over the last dreadful month. I cried for being thick enough to think that Harry and Ron would be able to forgive and forget.
When every last tear had been shed, I took a few deep breaths and it finally dawned on me that I could get in serious trouble for being out after curfew. It was pure luck that I hadn't run into Filch or a teacher yet. Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching. Fear gripped my chest as I scrambled to pick up my bag from where I had flung it and I hid behind the suit of armor.
As the footsteps got closer and closer, I didn't dare peek from around the suit of armor to see who it was. When they finally came to a halt right in front of me, my heart actually stopped for a second. I was sure I was caught. Then the footsteps started again and gradually got farther and farther away. When I could no longer hear them anymore, I darted out from my hiding place and ran as quickly as I could back to Gryffindor Tower.
When I stepped through the portrait hole, I breathed a sigh of relief to find the common room empty. I really didn't want to have to deal with people gawking at me anymore that night. I slowly made my way up to my dormitory, pressing my ear against the door to make sure my dorm mates were asleep, and then slipped in as quietly as I could.
"Look at what your cat did Hermione" Ron cried, brandishing a bloodstained sheet in my face. As the sheet waved in front of me, the bloodstain grew bigger and bigger until the sheet was completely red, blood dripping onto the floor. "Look what you've done!"
"N-no, I didn't..." I tried to say, but Ron kept going.
"You've never cared about Scabbers. You hate Scabbers. I bet you're glad he's dead!" Ron screamed at me, his face morphing into that of his rat.
"You always hated me. Are you happy now? Are you? Are you?" the rat asked as tears began streaming down my face.
The face morphed back to Ron's as he threw the sheet aside. "I bet you wish I was dead too!" he cried. "Too bad your cat isn't big enough to eat me, huh?"
The tears became more forceful now as I denied this new accusation.
"You never liked Scabbers and you never liked me," Ron shouted. "Well Scabbers is gone now, what else do you want?"
I tried to tell him I never wanted Scabbers to die, but the words wouldn't come.
"I know what you want. You want to get rid of me too, right? Well no problem, you won't have to deal with me anymore," Ron cried. "We're not friends anymore. Did you hear me? I never want to see you or talk to you again. I hate you!"
I woke up in my bed, trembling; the words 'I hate you' echoing in my head as I choked back sobs, not wanting to wake my dorm mates. I was exhausted, even more exhausted than before I had gone to bed, but I couldn't go back to sleep now. I would only be plagued by more horrible nightmares.
After I had calmed down enough to get out of bed, I gathered my things and went downstairs to the common room, where I settled onto the couch in front of the fire and stared into the flames. I tried to put my walls back up, to block out thoughts of Harry and Ron, but I couldn't. I tried distracting myself by reading a book for muggle studies, but after reading the first paragraph seven times without absorbing any information, I gave up, returning to my previous position of staring into the flames in the fireplace.
Though my homework wasn't enough to distract me from everything, I found that working on Hagrid's case was. As soon as curfew had lifted the next morning, I escaped to the library, where I could continue my research. I wouldn't let Hagrid and Buckbeak suffer because of my problems.
For the past month, I had been looking for more information on the case from 1916 in the hopes that I could use it to our advantage. Unfortunately, I could not find any reference anywhere as to who the anonymous American donor was or why they would pay all the court and hospital fees.
I had to go to my classes, but when I got out of history of magic at the end of the day, I went down to visit Hagrid to give him an update on my research. I avoided all conversation involving Harry or Ron, and left an hour later with a bagful of rock cakes and a promise to bring Hagrid another update in a week.
As I headed back to the castle, I suddenly felt a wave of anger wash over me, though I couldn't understand where it had come from. Almost mechanically, I approached the castle wall and reached into my bag, pulling out a rock cake. I imagined it was Ron's face and threw it as hard as I possibly could at the stone wall. Watching the rock cake hit the wall and then smash into pieces was so satisfying, I instinctively put my bag down and reached in for the next cake, this time picturing Harry's face. It was liberating, almost therapeutic in a way, so I threw the rock cakes until I had none left, my anger dissipating a little with each throw, until I was completely drained and I crumpled to the ground.
A fresh wave of tears poured from my eyes as I lay there on the ground, and I didn't even hear Hagrid approaching, nor did I remember moving from my spot on the ground in the courtyard. All I knew was that I was suddenly back in Hagrid's hut, a cup of cocoa in front of me and Hagrid across the table, concern etched across his face. He didn't question me, or try to stop me from crying, he just let me sit and cry until I felt ready to talk.
"Last night, Harry got his Firebolt back," I began with a sniffle, reaching for the handkerchief Hagrid was offering me to wipe my face, not even bothering to wonder or care whether the handkerchief was clean. "I think he was going to forgive me, but," I had to choke back a sob before continuing. "Ron found a spot of blood on his sheet and he thinks that Crookshanks killed Scabbers," I said.
I explained to Hagrid about the shouting-fest that had ensued and ended with a re-telling of my dream.
"Have yeh considered apologizin' ter Ron?" Hagrid asked after hearing my whole story.
"What for?" I cried, suddenly feeling angry again. "I haven't done anything wrong!"
"Well no, but yeh could apologize fer lettin' Crookshanks wander around all the time, an' then yeh could tell Ron that yer sorry 'bout Scabbers," Hagrid suggested.
"Ron should be the one to apologize!" I cried. "He accused me and Crookshanks of something without any evidence!"
"Ah well, people can be a bit silly abou' their pets," Hagrid replied, nodding to himself.
"Well I'm not apologizing," I said, crossing my arms over my chest and holding my head up defiantly.
I couldn't sleep that night. I was terrified of falling asleep and having another nightmare. About half-way through the night, I gave up and went back down to the common room to work on more homework. I was exhausted, but I managed to stay awake.
The next day was the day of the Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw quidditch match. At breakfast, I was uncharacteristically hungry. Even Neville noticed and commented that I should slow down on the pancakes, but I ignored him. I joined him in the stands for to watch the match and actually found myself enjoying the game.
Partway through the game, my stomach started to hurt. I figured I had eaten too much at breakfast and dismissed it. When Harry caught the snitch, I felt elation that my friend had won the game, and then a wave of sadness swept over me when I realized I couldn't celebrate with him.
As the Gryffindors poured out of the stands to congratulate the team, I slipped away, unnoticed and returned to the common room to claim a corner of the room to hide in before the inevitable party would start.
Professor Burbage had instructed us to read a book called Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles and I had until Monday to finish it. I was finding it particularly difficult to get through, mostly because I had spent my entire life with British Muggles. In fact, I had basically been a British Muggle until I got my Hogwarts letter.
By the time the party had started, I had given up all hope of reading the book. Even if I had been able to focus, the noise was so loud I could barely think. Just as I was thinking of packing up and going up to my dorm, Harry came over to where I was sitting. We talked for a moment, and then Ron made a comment loudly and in front of everyone about Scabbers being dead and how much he would have enjoyed the party.
It was too much. I couldn't handle anything anymore. I burst into tears and ran away as fast as I could. I was equally upset with Ron as I was with myself. Couldn't I hold it together for just a few minutes? Why was I suddenly unable to keep from crying at even the slightest thought of Harry or Ron?
My stomach gave a pang then, and I curled into the fetal position, convinced I was going to die right there from my misery.
I must have fallen asleep, because I was abruptly wrenched from my slumber by the sound of screaming coming from another room. Along with the rest of Gryffindor Tower, I descended to the common room to find out what was going on.
Down in the common room, everything was very confusing. Fred and George Weasley seemed to think that the party was starting again, Percy Weasley was yelling at everyone to go to bed and then Ron spoke up, causing everyone to freeze for a moment when he said that Sirius Black had been in his room with a knife.
Professor McGonagall arrived to investigate and it was discovered that Sir Cadogan actually had let a strange man into the common room. Evidently Neville had written down all the passwords on a piece of parchment and then lost them.
I almost felt bad for Neville. Almost. I wouldn't ever want to be in his position. Professor McGonagall was madder than I had ever seen her. But he had led Sirius Black right into our haven. We were all supposed to be safe in Gryffindor Tower.
And Black had been in Harry and Ron's dorm. Obviously, he had gotten the wrong bed and was actually trying to kill Harry, but if Ron hadn't screamed, that mistake could have gotten both him and Harry killed. Black was a mass murderer. He wouldn't hesitate to kill that entire dormitory if he thought it would get him out of Hogwarts undetected.
I shivered as I thought of the possibility of losing both Harry and Ron in one night. Strangely, I didn't feel like crying anymore. I wasn't sad. I was terrified.
