EDITED: September 19th, 2021.

12 - Bad Omens Everywhere

I was dragging my feet on my way to the Great Hall. I did not want to eat there, hunger be damned. Unfortunately, I had Hermione pulling me from one side and Harry glued on the other. Ron walked behind us, his shadow protecting me from the stares. But they couldn't protect me from the whispers.

"She fainted."

"No, Potter fainted. She's the one who screamed her head off."

"Barton touched a Dementor? Is she mad?"

"They say she almost ripped her friends' throats with her bare hands. If it weren't for the new professor—"

"Why is Harry walking with her? She's gonna kill him!"

Oh, Hogwarts. I hadn't missed your misinformed rumour mill.

"Ignore them, ignore them," Hermione chanted.

Laughter drifted from the Slytherin table. It was Malfoy making a fool of himself.

"What is he doing now?" I complained.

"I think he's making a rendition of me fainting," said Harry.

"Hey, Potter!" Pansy Parkinson shrieked. She was a Slytherin girl whose face was permanently stuck on a smug grin. "Potter! The Dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooooo!"

"Woooo!"I mimicked, waving my arms—and before Hermione could stop me, I threw a piece of bread at Malfoy's head. He yelped dramatically, Parkinson shrieking and his bodyguards rising threateningly. "As if you were any better, Malfoy! I heard you ran off screaming like a girl when you saw the shadow of one!"

"Wasn't it you who screamed her head off, Barton?" he yelled.

I threw my arms to the sides. "Because I touched one, you moron! What's your excuse? Oh, right! Daddy can't buy them off because Dementors don't need money!"

"You will pay for this!"

I stepped forward; he flinched. "Oh, yeah?"

A pair of arms circled my waist and lifted me further up the Gryffindor table.

"Oi!"

"Hermione's orders," said Ron. "I would've loved to see what you had in mind next though."

I received a hit on the head from a roll of fresh parchment.

"You made a spectacle of yourself, Anya!" Hermione hissed.

"No more than usual! Besides, that was nothing, you should've seen me at St. Louise's—" Her glower grew fierce; I shut up.

I was dropped on the bench with a thump. Wincing, I watched as my friends settled around me, Hermione and Ron going under the table so that they sat across from Harry and me. The girl had her nose high on the air—as if that action alone would make me disappear or make me feel bad for my actions.

Pfft. I was thinking along the lines of I should've kept that rock.

"Good morning, third years!" said George Weasley, plopping next to Harry. "Ready for a year full of fallen dreams, sleep loss, and presages of doom?" At our unenthusiastic responses, he frowned. "What's up with you all?"

Harry nodded over his shoulder.

Fred squatted next to Ron. "Ah, Malfoy. What a clown. Here are your third-year schedules." He passed over four rolls of parchment. "Minnie wasn't happy to notice you weren't on time. She threatened me to remind you to wake up early. Do try to arrive early, please—don't want her to focus on us too much."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"You know..." Fred mimicked to zip his lips.

"Come on, Harry," said George bracingly. "Lighten up. Malfoy is also part of the rumours, that's why he's throwing that little show. Wasn't so brave yesterday, was he, Fred?"

"Ran straight into our compartment," agreed his twin. "Tried to hide under the seats. And when the Dementor went past us, he nearly wet himself. What a pity Colin Creevey wasn't nearby to capture the moment."

"But he didn't faint, did he?" said Harry glumly.

Fred pointed at him with a spoon. "Harry, you can't have it both ways: either you are relieved you weren't the only one to make a fool of yourself or you aren't. Take it from someone who makes foolish look handsome."

"I wouldn't go that far," Ron commented.

"Shut it, Ronniekins."

"Dementors are not something to joke about," George continued, this time lowering his voice. "I wasn't too happy myself. Dad told us they suck all the happiness out of a place. He once went to Azkaban, remember?"

"Yeah!" Ron nodded. "He came back shaking. Mum had to feed him hot meals for three days because he couldn't shake off the cold..."

"See, Harry? Suck out happiness, freeze your insides—the Dementors are serious business. No person in Azkaban has ever shaken off their influence. But if you want to take out any leftover anger on Malfoy, look forward to the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match. First of the season, remember?"

The boys started going on about Quidditch. Rolling my eyes, I scanned my schedule; Divination was my first class.

"We're starting our new subjects today," said Hermione happily.

Ron, who was next to her, frowned and took a closer look at her schedule.

"Hermione, they've messed up your timetable. Look—they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough of time for them."

Hermione turned an interesting shade of red.

"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

"Really? Because you've got Divination, Muggle Studies, and Arithmancy at nine o'clock today. I mean, you're good, but you're not that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"

Hermione scoffed. "Don't be silly. Of course I won't be in three classes at once." Her fingers touched the golden chain around her neck, an addition I hadn't noticed until now.

"Well, then—"

"Pass the marmalade," Hermione said. I resisted rolling my eyes.

"But—"

I pushed the jar toward her.

"The brownies, please?" I requested.

She passed them over with a cheerful, "Here you go."

"Thank you."

Ron looked between us, annoyed. In the end, he muttered "girls" under his breath, and let the subject go.

I finished early than the others, so I watched them eat impatiently. Hagrid came briefly for a short greeting ("Wait, you're the Care of Magical Creatures teacher?!"), and after waving at Ginny, we set out of the hall.

We had to go all the way up to the North Tower, a place where none of us had ever set a foot on. A portrait of a knight—Sir Cadogan—led us to our classroom, but he was so enthusiastic that we kept losing track of him. In fact, all I had to do was look for the most distraught painting and guess the knight had run past them.

"Farewell!" the knight was saying as I popped behind the trio. He was jumping from behind a pair of monks in some sinister painting. The bald-headed people just stared down at us with expressionless faces, their parchment-colored robes moving as they turned around and walked away from the scene. "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms!" the knight continued. "If ever you have need of a noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"

"Yeah, we'll call you," Ron muttered as Cadogan disappeared, "if we ever need someone mental."

"So many options there," I said as we climbed the last few stairs to where the rest of our classmates gathered.

Frowning, I noticed that there was a trapdoor above us.

Harry was peering up as well, squinting.

"'Sybill Trelawney, Divination Teacher.' How're we supposed to get up there?"

The trapdoor suddenly fell open and a silvery ladder fell to Harry's feet. Our classmates quieted down. Harry and Ron shared looks; both of them moved away from each other and gestured to the door, looking back at me.

"Ladies first."

I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?" I threw my bag into Ron's arms. "Okay. But be careful with my bag." I stepped onto the ladder, testing its strength first, then started to climb up. I couldn't believe they had us running around this school's dozen moving stairs and this teacher still expected us to climb a bloody ladder.

The room I found myself in was vast, very similar to the Astronomy classroom and Gryffindor common room. Wooden pallets gave the impression of the floor going up, each with two round tables covered in star-patterned tablecloths with a reading lamp in the middle. Many shelves covered the walls, all leading to another table with a matching purple armchair where two windows framed it—the front of the classroom, I supposed.

There were a lot of knickknacks lying all over the place. Tea boxes, potions, mismatched chinaware, crystal balls, and different types of cards, some of which I knew were tarot.

I sniffed the air. The smell of rosemary was so strong I started coughing.

Hermione's head popped from the opening, her wild hair frizzing at the short exposure to the hot temperature. She looked nothing short of terrified.

"This looks like a fortune-telling tent," she whispered. Her eyes strayed from lamp to lamp, searching for the one that wasn't covered by a red scarf.

There wasn't.

One by one, my classmates leapt into the room, gazing with open mouths. Their moods varied.

Ron leaned over my shoulder. "Where is she?"

"Welcome," said a soft, misty voice from the shadows.

Professor Trelawney came out. She looked similar to a dragonfly, with her large glasses magnifying her eyes and her long body covered by shawls. Whatever visible skin left was full of golden bracelets, rings, and necklaces.

I agreed with Hermione—Trelawney's presence made the place seem like a carnival amusement.

"How nice to see you in the physical world at last. Sit, my children, sit."

Her eyes followed my every move. No matter how carefully I stepped on the floor, or how quickly I ran to the farthest table, she did not lose sight of me. A beat later, three pairs of chairs scraped on the floor, and Harry, Hermione, and Ron put their bags on the table.

"Welcome to Divination. My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye. So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field..."

Hermione, whose book was ready at hand, looked very put out at that.

"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. "It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," she said suddenly to Neville, who almost fell off his seat. "Is your grandmother well?"

"I think so," Neville stammered. Professor Trewlaney shook her head slowly.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear. We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year," she continued in a less dramatic tone. "The first term will be devoted to reading tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she said to Parvati Patil, "beware a red-haired man."

Parvati whirled on her seat, wide-eyed as her gaze landed on Ron, the only redhead in the room. And though they were at separate ends, she still edged her chair close to the wall behind her.

"In the second term, we shall progress to the crystal ball—if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us... forever."

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Trelawney ignored it, walking until she stopped before Lavender.

I was starting to get the feeling this wouldn't be anything like I expected.

"I wonder, dear, if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"

Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.

"Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading—it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October."

Lavender's eyes widened and she began to tremble.

"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear" —she caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up— "after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."

Neville still broke another cup. Because Hermione was stubbornly muttering under her breath about the whole ridiculousness of this class, I was the one who brought the cups and who served.

"Thank you so much for the help." I scraped the chair loudly to make my point clear. "Really—I wouldn't have done it without you."

Hermione scowled. "Oh hush." She looked into her cup. "What are we supposed to see, anyway? If you ask me, this is a lot of rubbish."

"Then why did you sign up?" I sighed.

She lowered her voice. "If I'd known the teacher was an impostor, I certainly wouldn't be here."

She was right. I'd never met someone like Trelawney, although she was the clear image of what I'd imagined wizards to look like. Every magical being had a certain awareness of magic, but the way she spoke about her 'Inner Eye' suggested she was supposed to be more.

I wasn't seeing it.

"Did you find anything?" Hermione asked, shaking her cup lightly.

"We've got to swap them first." I did so and peered into her cup. I winced. "You washed out the dregs."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll read yours then. I see... a bird. A big one. A baseball bat—no, sorry, a club. And if I turn it so... it sort of looks like a skull."

I'd turned the pages at each shape, but now I took my time to mull it over.

"A deadly enemy, an attack, and danger. Great, what else is different though. Anything else, Madame Granger? Perhaps more danger?"

Hermione drew my cup closer. "I'm not sure, but I think all of them together make the shape of a dog."

"A dog," I repeated dryly. "Oh, great." I slammed my head on the table gently. "Did you know dogs are death omens for wizardkind?"

"If I blow a little on it, it will look like a cat," Hermione offered. And she did it.

"Don't do that!"

We both jumped as Professor Trewlawney literally jumped on us, her glasses reflecting our faces.

"What were you thinking?" she hissed. "That will not change your friend's fortune—denying our destiny only leads to doom and despair!"

"Isn't that the same?" I asked—only to have her slam a beaded hand on the table.

"No, it is not! Broaden your mind, child" —behind her, Hermione mocked her— "use your Inner Eye!"

"Fine, fine!" I snatched the cup from Hermione and shook it under my nose. "This is telling me I'll have a rotten year; my friends will doubt me; my aunt will tell me yet another secret of my family; and somehow, a deadly wizard will slip into the castle looking to kill my friend and I'll probably end up in the hospital wing by the end of the year—just like always! Happy?"

The silence around me was gut-punching. I didn't think I'd end up raising my voice.

Professor Trelawney surprised me by placing a gentle hand on mine.

"Yes, dear. It is always a genuine pleasure to see an individual accept their place in the universe. You are ready to face what comes next." And she glided on to the next table, taking everyone's attention with her.

•••••◘◘◘◘•••••

"If you ever decide to be an Animagus, I must forewarn you—you cannot choose your shape. Otherwise, Diagon Alley would be full of prancing lions or wolves. The Animagus form is closely linked to the personality of a wizard: for example, a loyal person will probably take the form of a dog, but other traits, like his day-to-day habits, may influence the pedigree. Therefore, a distinguishing feature of the wizard will be embodied in his Animagus appearance. As some of you have probably noticed before, my own has the markings of my glasses around the eyes."

There was a faint pop. She twisted on her spot, and Professor McGonagall's tall form shrunk, green robes disappearing as she became a tabby cat. She raised her head proudly like all cats do, but after a sharp survey over the classroom, she turned back to her human self.

"Really," she said suddenly, looking miffed, "what has gotten into you all today? Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation hasn't gotten applause from a class."

I would have clapped but my hand was still busy drawing the shape of her Animagus form; if I stopped, the image I had on my head would fade. But even without looking up, I could feel the stares burning tiny holes through my head.

My dear, you have the Grim.

Professor! Anya has the Grim, too!

"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading tea leaves, and —"

Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes so high they could have fallen out of her face.

"Ah, of course. There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"

I threw my quill down. "Are you serious?"

"Ah, no wonder. I suppose Professor Trelawney must have heard of you, Miss Barton."

I pointed at Harry sitting in front of me.

"She said it would be him, not me."

Harry turned to exclaim, "We both got the same thing in the teacups! That's not my fault."

"It ain't mine either! And mine was more a cat than a dog, anyway!"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. We turned to her sheepishly.

"You shouldn't worry. Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet." Her nostrils flared. "Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting her students, and so far, none has ever dropped dead, as much as she claims the stars interfered—"

She broke off with a glare. "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney—"

She stopped again, and after taking a deep breath, she said casually, "You both look in excellent health to me, Potter, Barton, so you will excuse me if I don't let either of you off homework today. I assure you that if you both die, neither of you need hand it in."

I blinked. "What would be the point? We'd be dead by then."

"Indeed. As I was saying..."

Her words lightened up the class' mood—except for Ron, who dragged his feet morosely as we returned to the Great Hall and played with his food after.

"Ron, cheer up!" said Hermione. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said."

"Harry, Anne..." Ron said, in a low, serious voice, "neither of you have seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

I almost sighed when—predictably—Harry turned to face me. As if Snuffles was my fault.

Well, it wasn't my fault that Harry got easily scared with the predictions of a clearly loopy woman who wore costumes. I told Harry as much and watched in satisfaction as his face flushed in anger. Pushing him always did raise my spirits.

Ron, however, took it badly. His face paled and he dropped his fork.

"You've got a dog?!"

"It's not my dog!" I said irritably. "It's just a stray that hangs around the orphanage. If anything, it's Marie's and Harry's. They were the ones feeding it behind my back!"

"Harry, how could you?" Ron moaned. "Everyone knows dogs are bad luck! My uncle Bilius saw one and—and he died twenty-four hours later!"

I frowned. "Wait, Ginny told me about him. Wasn't he the one with high pressure?"

"See, Ron?" said Hermione airily, pouring pumpkin juice into a glass. "That was just a coincidence."

"The two of you don't know what you're talking about!" snapped Ron, starting to get angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards! That's why none of our kind has dogs!" he added the last part for me. "Get a crup like normal people!"

"He's not mine," I stressed.

"Well, Ron, you just said it yourself," Hermione argued. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry and Anya are still with us because they're not stupid enough to see one and think, 'right, well, I'd better kick the bucket, then!'"

Ron started mocking Hermione, not believing what he heard. Hermione ignored this and took out her Arithmancy book.

"I think Divination seems very woolly," she snapped, searching for her page. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me."

"There was nothing woolly about the Grims in those cups!" Ron said hotly.

"Remind me why I hang around you people," I muttered. I glared at Harry when I saw his hand hover over my shoulder. "Don't you dare—you're the one who started it."

"What?!"

"You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep."

"Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You just don't like being bad at something for a change!"

I winced. "Idiot."

Hermione slammed down her book. So hard, in fact, that the glasses jumped, and one fell over the table, spilling on my skirt and robes.

I clenched my fists on my lap, closing my eyes and taking deep slow breaths. "Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breath out," I muttered like a mantra, standing.

"Where are you going?" Harry called.

I whirled on him. He leaned back, surprised.

"Well, Harry, there are two ways me being in a bad mood can end up. I don't think I've got the money" —I gestured around the room with one finger— "to pay for all the windows."

•••••◘◘◘◘•••••

The rest of the day grew warmer. It was the first time it happened this time of the year, so many students took advantage of the good weather and lay around the castle grounds, soaking in the sunlight.

I, on the other hand, grew irritable. Now I had to carry my cloak, and I kept glancing back because I had the impression of it falling—forgetting that I had tied it around my satchel. The added weight caused my satchel's strap to finally rip off.

"Six years and you finally gave up," I said, groaning as I lifted it into my arms. The Monster Book of Monsters growled. "Rest in peace—but why couldn't you have given up by the end of the day?"

I walked down to Hagrid's hut, as Care of Magical Creatures would take place at the edge of the Black Forest. A few feet away, my Golden Trio walked, Ron and Hermione flanking Harry but still obviously upset. I wanted nothing to do with that, so I slowed my step, even if it made my arms ache more.

I thought I would stroll alone, but then I heard the sound of growling not far behind me. I turned to see Neville Longbottom struggling with his own monster book, his robes frayed from the sleeves and his blonde hair wild. I waited until he caught up to me.

"Bad day?" I inquired.

He'd been so busy watching out for his book that he hadn't noticed me, and jumped a foot in the air, jostling his book awake.

I dropped my things and dived, caressing its spine between Neville's hands. Instantly, the book purred and fell into a deep sleep.

Neville stared at me open-mouthed.

"I found out that a few days ago," I said. "I didn't think my poor shoes would've survived another round of biting, so I asked the vendor how to open it." He shook his head.

"I should've done the same," he muttered. I patted his shoulder and went to pick up my things.

"Walk with me?"

We caught up with our class but lagged behind. Though it was snoring, Neville still stroked his book, his eyes darting as he hesitated to speak.

"Are you okay?" I peered at him; he flushed. "I mean—from the train. I left your compartment before you returned so I didn't get to ask."

"I'm fine," I said automatically. "Well, as fine as I can be with touching a Dementor. But honestly? I can't quite recall what happened. I just... feel the echo of my fears. If that makes sense."

"It does," he said somberly. "The Dementors bring up everything bad you've ever felt: every emotion, every memory... all the worst piles up in seconds. Is that why you don't want to be near Hermione and Ron?"

I smiled reluctantly. "Yeah. I don't think I have the patience to listen to them right now."

Neville tried to stifle his chuckles but he ended laughing anyways. My smile widened.

We arrived at Hagrid's hut and, to our chagrin, we saw the Slytherin lot already there, with Hagrid standing at the door of his home with Fang at his feet.

"C'mon, now, get a move on! Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!" Hagrid started leading us towards the Forbidden Forest.

I eyed the trees. The last time I'd walked into the Forbidden Forest, I'd seen the Dark Lord drinking the blood of a unicorn. Neville, who hadn't seen him but had gone through the thick grove the same day, stopped short and stared at it with fear, hugging the monster book tightly. Unconsciously, my eyes slid to where Draco Malfoy stood with his Housemates; he'd been with us, too, and had scared Neville and I, which won him a broken nose from yours truly.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here! That's it—make sure yeh can see—now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books—"

"How?" said Malfoy coldly.

"Eh?" Hagrid asked.

"How do we open our books?"

I pulled my book out of my bag and started removing its red belt.

"Hasn'—hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" Hagrid asked, looking crestfallen.

I spoke up. "You stroke the book's spine."

Hagrid beamed. "Tha's righ'! Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Malfoy glared. I threw him a smirk.

Hagrid strode away from us into the forest and out of sight. Still glaring, Malfoy started to speak loudly.

"God, this place is going to the dogs. That oaf teaching classes, my father will have a fit when I tell him—"

"Daddy this, Daddy that—Lord, Malfoy, when will you start relying on yourself instead of your daddy's connections? Oh, wait—he lost them when he got sacked, didn't he?"

"At least I have a father to turn to," he sneered.

"That line's way old. At least I know how to solve my problems alone. What will happen when Lucius Malfoy is gone? I'll tell you what I'll do—I'll give a toast!"

"Why you filthy blood traitor—"

Harry gave a threatening step toward the blond but Lavender squealed and we all turned our attention to her; she wasn't looking at us, no, but at what Hagrid was just leading out of the paddock next to his pumpkin garden.

I had never seen this creature before but its description in Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them was pretty accurate. Head of an eagle and body of a horse, the Hippogriff shook its long wings as Hagrid led it into the clearing. Its coloring was white, but as its feathers shifted, I caught glimpse of brown and gray shades in them. Behind the first, a flock of Hippogriffs followed, all in darker shades.

My hand itched to draw them. A first after many months.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid said. "Beau'iful, aren't they? So, if yeh want ter come a bit nearer—"

I stepped a little forward. Harry, Hermione, and Ron did the same. To my surprise, Neville followed, looking hesitant. His bravery, though brief, prevailed even when he clung to my side.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud. Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

To the left of me, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were whispering.

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid was still saying. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from his sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt. Right—who wants ter go first?"

Everyone backed away.

"No one?" Hagrid said, sounding disappointed and pleading at the same time.

"I'll do it," Harry said. I heard both Lavender and Parvati whisper, "Oooh, no, Harry, remember your tea leaves!"

Harry ignored them and climbed over the fence to Hagrid.

"Good man, Harry!" Hagrid yelled. "Right then—let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

He unchained the white-gray Hippogriff and took off its collar.

"Try to not lose your head," I muttered to Harry as he passed me.

"Easy, now, Harry," said Hagrid. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink... Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much..."

Harry stared at the Hippogriff, unblinking. I felt my heart go a little faster at the glare Buckbeak seemed to be giving him.

"Tha's it," Hagrid said. "Tha's it, Harry...now, bow..."

Harry bowed shortly to Buckbeak, but the Hippogriff didn't move at all. I bit my cheek.

"Ah," Hagrid said. "Right—back away, now, Harry, easy does it—"

Just as Harry took one step back, he snapped a twig and the Hippogriff rose on its hind legs. Gasping, Hermione grabbed Ron's hand and clung to him.

"Come on," I muttered worried, but then Buckbeak sank into a bow. I sighed in relief but winced at the loss of blood circulation on my wrist. "Neville, your hold is getting a little bit tighter."

"Well done, Harry!" Hagrid said. "Right—yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

Harry slowly made his way to the hippogriff, reached out, and petted it a couple of times. I started clapping with the rest of the class.

"Righ' then, Harry," Hagrid said. "I reckon he might' let yeh ride him!"

Now, that sounded interesting.

"What? Hey—!" Hagrid suddenly lifted Harry onto Buckbeak, with golden boy yelling and clinging to the Hippogriff tightly.

"Don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that..." With that warning, Hagrid smacked the creature's rear and with a loud cry, Buckbeak reared and took off flying, Harry's yell echoing as he flew into the air.

"I really hope he doesn't fall off," I said aloud. Behind me, Hermione reached to slap my shoulder. A minute or two later, everyone broke into cheers as Buckbeak landed gracefully, Harry clutching its sides.

"Good work, Harry! Okay, who else wants a go?"

Hagrid unleashed one by one the rest of the Hippogriffs. Soon, everyone was bowing their heads nervously to them. Neville repeatedly ran away from ours, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees.

"You have to demonstrate that you're not afraid, Neville," I told him, glaring at the chesnut hippogriff when it squinted at me. Still staring at me suspiciously, it bowed, but its eyes darted to Neville; the boy backed away once more, accidentally taking me with him.

"But I am!"

I dug my feet to the ground. "Well, try to lie to him!"

"What if it jumps me?!"

"Neville—"

There was a high-pitched scream. For a wild moment, my heart stopped, thinking it was Neville. But he tugged at my neckline and I stumbled, gaze falling on Crabbe and Goyle, whose legs twitched as the shadow of Buckbeak chased them. The real Buckbeal was rearing on its hind legs, and under him, Malfoy crawled back on his elbows. There was a long, deep gash under the ripped sleeve, something a simple Episkey wouldn't be able to heal.

I watched as Hagrid picked Malfoy up and Hermione ran to open the gate. The class followed behind them, with the Slytherins throwing insults and the Gryffindors snapping back.

Neville suddenly yelped and jumped away from me. I whirled around, coming face to face with Buckbeak. Quickly, I bowed my head, but my eyes stared deep into its orange ones.

It moved forward.

For a moment, I thought it would rip my head apart. Instead, I felt something hard and pointy nudging my shoulder. I staggered at the strength of its shove but quickly straightened. Immediately, Buckbeak went back to my shoulder, nuzzling it affectionately.

"I think he likes you," said Neville timidly.

I gave a shaky laugh, touching the feathery head.

"You don't say."

What a first day, indeed.