Harry began anti-Dementor lessons with Professor Lupin. Apparently he was learning a spell that would drive them away.
Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin won, though narrowly. According to Wood, this was good news for Gryffindor, who would take second place if they beat Ravenclaw too. He therefore increased the number of team practices to five a week.
The stress from the amount of work she had to do was finally getting to Hermione. Every night Hermione took over a corner of the common room, several tables piled high with books. She didn't talk to anyone and snapped when she was interrupted.
"How's she doing it?" Ron muttered to Harry one evening as Harry sat finishing an essay on Undetectable Poisons for Snape. Bree, having already finished her essay, was making origami turtles. Hermione was barely visible behind a pile of books.
"Doing what?" Harry asked.
"Getting to all her classes!" Ron said. "I heard her talking to Professor Vector, that Arithmancy witch, this morning. They were going on about yesterday's lesson, but Hermione can't've been there, because she was with us in Care of Magical Creatures! And Ernie McMillan told me she's never missed a Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Divination, and she's never missed one of them either!"
Harry went back to his essay and Bree continued making her turtles.
Not two seconds later Wood inturrupted. "Bad news, Harry. I've just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. She, er, got a bit shirty with me. Told me I'd got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about you staying alive. Just because I told her I didn't care if it threw you off, as long as you caught the Snitch first."
Bree glared at him, then stood up and kicked him in the shin. "Damn sports fanatic." she muttered as she left the common room.
One day Bree walked up to the twins and Lee Jordan. She was carrying a bag.
"I need your help." she told them.
"With what?" Lee asked warily.
"The owls." Bree said, as if that explained everything.
"What about the owls?" Fred questioned.
"They're naked." Bree stated.
Lee gave her a flat look. "Yes Bree. Owls are generally naked. What else have you learned today?" he said.
"Animal Rights Activists are offended by the phase "There's more than one way to skin a cat" and I need help dressing the owls." Bree responded
"In what?" George asked.
"Gryffindor scarves and glasses like Harry's, and I want to put little lightning bolts on their foreheads, if they'll let me." Bree answered.
"Brilliant!" the twins exclaimed simultaneously.
"How are you going to keep the owls from getting mad and attacking you?" Lee asked, his tone and facial expression indicating that he was resigned to the fact that his friends were completely insane and that he was going to do his best to keep them from hurting themselves.
"I intend to bribe them with bacon." Bree declared.
509. Not allowed to dress up the owls to look like Harry.
"Come on Lee, it's not that hard." George said as he wrapped a scarf around his tenth owl.
"I don't like the way it's looking at me." Lee protested.
"It's a Eurasian Eagle-owl. It always looks like that." Bree stated.
"Well, then you do it!" Lee exclaimed. Bree rolled her eyes. "Fine." she mutter before going to where the large owl was sitting. "Oh, what stunning plumage you have." she cooed to it while offering it some bacon. The owl in question was in fact Draco Malfoy's eagle owl, and as such Bree really wanted to, at the very least, get a Gryffindor scarf on it.
She slowly reached toward the owl, and gently massaged its scalp with her fingers. "Is it okay if I put this scarf on you?" she asked. The owl bobbed its head and let her put the scarf on it then stuck its head out so she would pet it more.
"Were all done over here. Are you going to put glasses on that one?" Fred called to her minutes later.
"It's one of the largest owls in the world, if you want it to wear glasses you put them on it." Bree growled back. The owl stared at Fred, as if daring him to try something.
"Er, no that's okay, let's go, dinner will be starting soon." Fred said as he backed away.
"I have to go now okay, see you later." Bree said to the owl. The owl nodded and Bree left.
The next day at breakfast, when the owl post came, most of the school couldn't help but stare at the owls, most of whom were wearing Gryffindor scarves, glasses that look liked Harry's, and had lightning bolts drawn onto their foreheads. The scene was made even more surreal by the fact that the owls were acting as if nothing was wrong.
Malfoy's eagle owl came in and landed next to her plate were it immediately demanded to be petted, moments later a great horned owl dropped a letter in Bree's lap. Bree opened it and read it.
Dear Miss Smith,
It has come to my attention that you saved my son from grievous injury at the beginning of the school year which resulted in you becoming injured yourself. Because of your heroic actions, my family owes you a debt. Perhaps we could meet and discuss the matter further sometime when your schedule permits it.
Sincerely,
Lucious Malfoy.
Bree blinked, blinked again, then wordlessly handed the letter to George, who immediately showed it to Fred.
"Do you think he means a life debt?" Fred asked when he was done reading.
"What's a life debt?" Bree inquired.
"It's a debt someone owes you when you save their life." George explained.
"Nah. Hagrid wouldn't have let Buckbeak kill Draco." Bree stated.
"I dunno, one good swipe from his talons in the right place and that git's life could have ended.
"We're not that lucky." Bree responded.
Later in the day Bree spotted Draco alone in the hall. She wondered if he knew about the debt. He turned a spotted her.
"What do you want, mud blood?" he snarled.
Apparently not. Bree grinned, then began laughing manically and walked away.
125. Not allowed to stare at Draco Malfoy, laugh manically, then walk away. (If you want to see this from Draco's point of view, go read chapter 9 of 88 rules for a peaceful Hogwarts experience.)
January faded imperceptibly into February, with no change in the bitterly cold weather. The match against Ravenclaw was drawing nearer and nearer, but Harry still hadn't ordered a new broom. He was now asking Professor McGonagall for news of the Firebolt after every Transfiguration lesson. For awhile he didn't get it back but one day he walked into the Gryffindor common room with it.
Harry was immediately surrounded by people who wanted to see his Firebolt.
"Where'd you get it, Harry?"
"Will you let me have a go?"
"Have you ridden it yet, Harry?"
"Ravenclaw'll have no chance, they're all on Cleansweep Sevens!"
"Can I just hold it, Harry?"
After ten minutes or so, during which the Firebolt was Passed around and admired from every angle, the crowd dispersed and Harry and Ron had a clear view of Hermione, the only person, other than Bree who kept muttering "It's just a broom", who hadn't rushed over to them, bent over her work and carefully avoiding their eyes. Harry and Ron approached her table and at last, she looked up.
"I got it back," said Harry, grinning at her and holding up the Firebolt.
"See, Hermione? There wasn't anything wrong with it!" said Ron.
"Well, there might have been!" said Hermione. "I mean, at least you know now that it's safe!"
"Yeah, I suppose so," said Harry. "I'd better put it upstairs."
"I'll take it!" said Ron eagerly. "I've got to give Scabbers his rat tonic."
He took the Firebolt and, holding it as if it were made of glass, carried it away up the boys' staircase.
"Can I sit down, then?" Harry asked Hermione.
"I suppose so," said Hermione, moving a great stack of parchment off a chair.
Bree had walked over and was eyeing Hermione's Muggle Studies essay: Explain Why Muggles Need Electricity.
"This is wrong." Bree stated.
"What!" Hermione explained.
"The whole premise of this essay is wrong, muggles don't need electricity. They just prefer it. Like how wizards don't need magic to do daily tasks, they just prefer it over hard labor." Bree explained.
"Oh." Hermione said.
"Honestly you're a muggleborn and you didn't think to point that out?" Bree reprimanded.
"Well I've had a lot of work to do lately." Hermione stated.
"Why don't you drop a couple of subjects?" Harry asked.
I couldn't do that!" said Hermione, looking scandalized.
"Arithmancy looks terrible," said Harry, picking up a very complicated-looking number chart.
"Oh no, it's wonderful!" said Hermione earnestly. "It's my favorite subject! It's —"
At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys' staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder, and then Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bed sheet.
"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to Hermione's table. "LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face.
"Ron, what?"
"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!"
Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. The sheet had a little bit of blood on it and Bree could see where this was going.
"BLOOD!" Ron yelled into the stunned silence. "HE'S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?"
"N-no," said Hermione in a trembling voice.
Ron threw something down onto Hermione's rune translation. Hermione and Harry leaned forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs
It looked like the end of Ron and Hermione's friendship. Each was so angry with the other that Harry couldn't see how they'd ever make up. Ron was enraged that Hermione had never taken Crookshanks's attempts to eat Scabbers seriously, hadn't bothered to keep a close enough watch on him, and was still trying to pretend that Crookshanks was innocent by suggesting that Ron look for Scabbers under all the boys' beds. Hermione, meanwhile, maintained fiercely that Ron had no proof that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, that the ginger hairs might have been there since Christmas, and that Ron had been prejudiced against her cat ever since Crookshanks had landed on Ron's head in the Magical Menagerie.
Ron had taken the loss of his rat very hard indeed.
"Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was," said Fred bracingly.
"And he's been off-color for ages, he was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly, one swallow, he probably didn't feel a thing."
"Fred!" said Ginny indignantly.
"All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself," said George.
"He bit Goyle for us once!" Ron said miserably. "Remember, Harry?"
"Yeah, that's true," said Harry.
"So he was useful once. That's great Ron. Really." Bree said sarcastically.
"Shut up you- you- cat lover!" Ron exclaimed.
"Wow Ron. What an insult." Bree deadpanned before leaving.
Harry went down to breakfast the next morning with the rest of the boys in his dormitory, all of whom seemed to think the Firebolt deserved a sort of guard of honor.
"It's just a broom." Bree muttered as she walked past them.
As Harry entered the Great Hall, heads turned in the direction of the Firebolt, and there was a good deal of excited muttering. The Slytherin team was all looking thunderstruck.
"Did you see his face?" said Ron gleefully, looking back at Malfoy. "He can't believe it! This is brilliant!"
Wood, too, was basking in the reflected glory of the Firebolt.
"Put it here, Harry," he said, laying the broom in the middle of the table and carefully turning it so that its name faced upward. People from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were soon coming over to look. Cedric Diggory came over to congratulate Harry on having acquired such a superb replacement for his Nimbus, and Percy's Ravenclaw girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, asked if she could actually hold the Firebolt.
"Now, now, Penny, no sabotage!" said Percy heartily as she examined the Firebolt closely. "Penelope and I have got a bet on," he told the team. "Ten Galleons on the outcome of the match!"
Penelope put the Firebolt down again, thanked Harry, and went back to her table.
"Harry — make sure you win," said Percy, in an urgent whisper. "I haven't got ten Galleons. Yes, I'm coming, Penny!" And he bustled off to join her in a piece of toast.
"Sure you can manage that broom, Potter?" said a cold, drawling voice.
Draco Malfoy had arrived for a closer look, Crabbe and Goyle right behind him.
"Yeah, reckon so," said Harry casually.
"Got plenty of special features, hasn't it?" said Malfoy, eyes glittering maliciously.
"Shame it doesn't come with a parachute, in case you get too near a Dementor."
Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.
"Amazing how you trained them to laugh at your jokes, you'd almost think you were funny." Bree said with an air of malice.
The Gryffindor team laughed loudly. Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed, and he stalked away. They watched him rejoin the rest of the Slytherin team, who put their heads together, no doubt asking Malfoy whether Harry's broom really was a Firebolt.
The post came, and Bree found herself once again visited by Malfoy's eagle owl. Bree figured that Draco didn't pay any attention to it and that's why it kept coming back to her. The rest of the Gryffindors were too scared of the large owl to shoo it away.
At a quarter to eleven, the Gryffindor team set off for the locker rooms. The weather couldn't have been more different from their match against Hufflepuff. It was a clear, cool day with a very light breeze; there would be no visibility problems this time.
Gryffindor won the game, but the most notable thing that happened was when Malfoy and some of the Slytherins dressed as dementors and tried to sabotage Harry.
Of course there was a party to celebrate. The party went on all day and well into the night. Fred and George disappeared for a couple of hours and returned with armfuls of bottles of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags full of Honeydukes sweets.
"How did you do that?" squealed Angelina Johnson as George started throwing Peppermint Toads into the crowd.
Only one person wasn't joining in the festivities. Hermione, incredibly, was sitting in a corner, attempting to read an enormous book entitled Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles.
"Hermione, you're a British muggleborn, I think you know more about the subject then that book." Bree stated.
"But it was assigned reading." Hermione protested.
"Oh for the love of… Alright Hermione go ahead a keep reading, but when you die from all the homework induced stress I've got first dibs on your stuff." Bree stated leaving Hermione's side and rejoining the party. She noticed that Harry had gone to talk to the bushy haired bookworm.
A few minutes later Ron said loudly, "If Scabbers hadn't just been eaten, he could have had some of those Fudge Flies. He used to really like them."
Hermione burst into tears. Before anyone could say or do anything, she tucked the enormous book under her arm, and, still sobbing, ran toward the staircase to the girls' dormitories and out of sight.
"You're on my list." Bree hissed in Ron's ear.
The Gryffindor party ended only when Professor McGonagall turned up in her tartan dressing gown and hair net at one in the morning, to insist that they all go to bed.
Hours later everyone was woken up by the sound of screaming coming from the boy's dorm. Bree and a few other girls went down to the common room to see what was going on.
"Excellent, are we carrying on?" said Fred brightly.
"Everyone back upstairs!" said Percy, hurrying into the common room and pinning hisHead Boy badge to his pajamas as he spoke.
"Perce, Sirius Black!" said Ron faintly. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"
The common room went very still.
"Nonsense!" said Percy, looking startled. "You had too much to eat, Ron, had a nightmare."
"I'm telling you"
"Now, really, enough's enough!"
Professor McGonagall was back. She slammed the portrait behind her as she entered the common room and stared furiously around.
"I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!"
"I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!" said Percy, puffing himself up indignantly. "I was just telling them all to get back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare."
"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ron yelled. "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"
Professor McGonagall stared at him.
"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?"
"Ask him!" said Ron, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan's picture. "Ask him if he saw."
Glaring suspiciously at Ron, Professor McGonagall pushed the portrait back open and went outside. The whole common room listened with bated breath. "Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?"
"Certainly, good lady!" cried Sir Cadogan.
There was a stunned silence, both inside and outside the common room.
"You - you did?" said Professor McGonagall. "But, but the password!"
"He had 'em!" said Sir Cadogan proudly. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"
Professor McGonagall pulled herself back through the portrait hole to face the stunned crowd. She was white as chalk.
"Which person," she said, her voice shaking, "which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"
There was utter silence, broken by the smallest of terrified squeaks. Neville Longbottom, trembling from head to fluffy slippered toes, raised his hand slowly into the air.
