Well past midnight, the trio finally stopped talking and tiptoed upstairs. Harry was looking for extra blankets and pillows when he realized that his bedroom was too small for three people to fit in.
As Ron and Hermione started another quiet row in the hallway, Harry decided that there was no choice but to sleep in the old cupboard again. He didn't like it there, but it really was the only way.
But straightaway, when Harry proposed his idea to them, the three broke out in another argument, with Ron moaning that it wouldn't be any fun without Harry, Harry exasperatedly explaining that the Dursleys would have a fit if they slept anywhere else in the house, and Hermione whining that sleeping in the cupboard was downright gross.
Hermione finally suggested that Harry sleep in the cupboard for just that one night and ask the Dursleys if they could sleep in the living room instead the next night.
Harry bade goodnight to Ron, who was grudgingly sleeping on a mattress on the floor; and Hermione, who had decided to sleep on Harry's bed (with the sheets changed, of course).
When Harry opened his cupboard door and went to lie on the bed, he felt ten years old again – before he found out that he was a wizard.
Harry awoke the next morning to the sounds of quiet talking somewhere near the cupboard door. He carefully took his glasses and stuffed them on before opening the flap to see who was outside.
Ron and Hermione were talking in low voices directly in front of the door. Apparently, they had decided to forget about their argument and were back to normal, like they always did.
"Maybe we shouldn't open the door," Hermione was saying nervously. "He might wake up."
"We'll see if he's awake," Ron replied.
"I'm awake," Harry grunted. Hermione and Ron jumped with a start, surprised at Harry's sudden awakening.
"Morning," Hermione said cheerfully once he'd stepped out of the cupboard. She peered inside, a look of disgust clearly expressed across her face.
"Awesome!" Ron said happily, taking a peek as well.
"Hey, has Hedwig arrived yet?" Harry asked distractedly, closing the cupboard door.
Ron shook his head.
"Not yet. Sorry, mate."
Once Harry had pulled on a pair of baggy jeans and grey t-shirt, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped outside to grab breakfast at a nearby restaurant.
"The Dursleys probably wouldn't let you eat their breakfast," Harry admitted bitterly as they walked up the street.
"How can anyone be that rude?" Hermione wondered. "They're probably just insecure."
Harry and Ron exchanged knowing looks.
Once they reached the restaurant, Harry kept silent as Ron and Hermione began to talk about last year's happenings. Harry had seen two deaths in about a year, and it was wearing him down inside. His best friends were the only ones who could make him forget about it for a few moments.
Harry looked round the restaurant. It was a small, cozy diner with white walls and blue trim, as well as blue booths and chairs, and white tables. Scattered among the tables were adults that looked over fifty years old.
"Not popular to young 'uns, this restaurant," Ron muttered, and Hermione laughed. But Harry was distracted by an old lady sitting at one of the booths.
"Mrs. Figg!" Harry said in surprise.
Mrs. Figg turned round and smiled at Harry, limping slightly as she got up and walked over.
"Hello, dear," she said kindly, patting his head.
"These are my friends, Ron and Hermione," Harry told her, gesturing towards the two. "And you two know about Mrs. Figg."
"Why, you must be Miss Granger!" Mrs. Figg exclaimed, curiously studying Hermione with a touch of excitement on her face.
"Hello," Hermione greeted cautiously.
"You must wonder why I know your name," Mrs. Figg chuckled. "Well, a friend of mine whose name I must not reveal knows how well you did on those OWLs."
Hermione looked taken aback, and Harry was sure that he saw her open her mouth (probably to ask about her results) for a second, then close it.
"How well did she do?" Ron asked enviously.
Mrs. Figg hesitated.
"Do not tell anyone that I told you, but Miss Granger here has received an 'Outstanding' in every single subject."
Hermione turned brick red, torn between excitement and shock; Ron's jaw dropped to the floor; and Harry frowned for a moment.
"That must mean…" he began, but Mrs. Figg continued his sentence.
"That it is possible that Miss Granger could become an Auror."
Now it was Harry's turn to act shocked.
All four of them were silent. Ron and Harry were the ones who had wanted to be Aurors, not Hermione. Harry was more envious than he had ever been in his life.
"Well, I've got to run now," Mrs. Figg said, clapping her hands together cheerfully.
"Wait," Ron called after her.
Mrs. Figg paused before turning around again.
"Yes?" she asked tentatively.
Harry knew what Ron wanted to ask, so he spoke up instead.
"If you know what Hermione got on her OWLs, you must know what Ron and I got."
Mrs. Figg pursed her lips and sighed. Harry took this as a bad sign.
"Okay, I'll tell you."
And they went to chat about it at Mrs. Figg's booth.
As Ron and Hermione started another quiet row in the hallway, Harry decided that there was no choice but to sleep in the old cupboard again. He didn't like it there, but it really was the only way.
But straightaway, when Harry proposed his idea to them, the three broke out in another argument, with Ron moaning that it wouldn't be any fun without Harry, Harry exasperatedly explaining that the Dursleys would have a fit if they slept anywhere else in the house, and Hermione whining that sleeping in the cupboard was downright gross.
Hermione finally suggested that Harry sleep in the cupboard for just that one night and ask the Dursleys if they could sleep in the living room instead the next night.
Harry bade goodnight to Ron, who was grudgingly sleeping on a mattress on the floor; and Hermione, who had decided to sleep on Harry's bed (with the sheets changed, of course).
When Harry opened his cupboard door and went to lie on the bed, he felt ten years old again – before he found out that he was a wizard.
Harry awoke the next morning to the sounds of quiet talking somewhere near the cupboard door. He carefully took his glasses and stuffed them on before opening the flap to see who was outside.
Ron and Hermione were talking in low voices directly in front of the door. Apparently, they had decided to forget about their argument and were back to normal, like they always did.
"Maybe we shouldn't open the door," Hermione was saying nervously. "He might wake up."
"We'll see if he's awake," Ron replied.
"I'm awake," Harry grunted. Hermione and Ron jumped with a start, surprised at Harry's sudden awakening.
"Morning," Hermione said cheerfully once he'd stepped out of the cupboard. She peered inside, a look of disgust clearly expressed across her face.
"Awesome!" Ron said happily, taking a peek as well.
"Hey, has Hedwig arrived yet?" Harry asked distractedly, closing the cupboard door.
Ron shook his head.
"Not yet. Sorry, mate."
Once Harry had pulled on a pair of baggy jeans and grey t-shirt, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped outside to grab breakfast at a nearby restaurant.
"The Dursleys probably wouldn't let you eat their breakfast," Harry admitted bitterly as they walked up the street.
"How can anyone be that rude?" Hermione wondered. "They're probably just insecure."
Harry and Ron exchanged knowing looks.
Once they reached the restaurant, Harry kept silent as Ron and Hermione began to talk about last year's happenings. Harry had seen two deaths in about a year, and it was wearing him down inside. His best friends were the only ones who could make him forget about it for a few moments.
Harry looked round the restaurant. It was a small, cozy diner with white walls and blue trim, as well as blue booths and chairs, and white tables. Scattered among the tables were adults that looked over fifty years old.
"Not popular to young 'uns, this restaurant," Ron muttered, and Hermione laughed. But Harry was distracted by an old lady sitting at one of the booths.
"Mrs. Figg!" Harry said in surprise.
Mrs. Figg turned round and smiled at Harry, limping slightly as she got up and walked over.
"Hello, dear," she said kindly, patting his head.
"These are my friends, Ron and Hermione," Harry told her, gesturing towards the two. "And you two know about Mrs. Figg."
"Why, you must be Miss Granger!" Mrs. Figg exclaimed, curiously studying Hermione with a touch of excitement on her face.
"Hello," Hermione greeted cautiously.
"You must wonder why I know your name," Mrs. Figg chuckled. "Well, a friend of mine whose name I must not reveal knows how well you did on those OWLs."
Hermione looked taken aback, and Harry was sure that he saw her open her mouth (probably to ask about her results) for a second, then close it.
"How well did she do?" Ron asked enviously.
Mrs. Figg hesitated.
"Do not tell anyone that I told you, but Miss Granger here has received an 'Outstanding' in every single subject."
Hermione turned brick red, torn between excitement and shock; Ron's jaw dropped to the floor; and Harry frowned for a moment.
"That must mean…" he began, but Mrs. Figg continued his sentence.
"That it is possible that Miss Granger could become an Auror."
Now it was Harry's turn to act shocked.
All four of them were silent. Ron and Harry were the ones who had wanted to be Aurors, not Hermione. Harry was more envious than he had ever been in his life.
"Well, I've got to run now," Mrs. Figg said, clapping her hands together cheerfully.
"Wait," Ron called after her.
Mrs. Figg paused before turning around again.
"Yes?" she asked tentatively.
Harry knew what Ron wanted to ask, so he spoke up instead.
"If you know what Hermione got on her OWLs, you must know what Ron and I got."
Mrs. Figg pursed her lips and sighed. Harry took this as a bad sign.
"Okay, I'll tell you."
And they went to chat about it at Mrs. Figg's booth.