I'll be leaving in less than twelve hours to go on vacation~~! To be honest, I'm kind of scared, because knowing me and knowing how homesick I get, even when I'm five hours away from my hometown, I'mma end up crying my booty off in the lake we're gonna be at haha. I won't have internet for a week (send your prayers hihi), but at least we'll be visiting my favorite mall and I'll be going swimming lots! Please remember to R/R 3 :)))

Chapter 9

A Christmas Surprise

Harry took the secret passage back to Hogwarts while Ron, Hermione, and Rachel walked back, all of them silent, not knowing what to say. Rachel kept repeating what she'd heard in her head, not wanting to believe that Harry's parents were killed because James Potter's best friend sold them out to Voldemort.

During dinner, they couldn't talk about what they'd heard for Percy was sitting close by them. In the common room, Harry snuck up to the boys' dormitories before Ron, Hermione, and Rachel could say anything, and Ron followed shortly after to check up on him.

Hermione and Rachel sat down on the couch by the fireplace in silence, avoiding each other's eyes, both deep in thought.

"Hey, you guys!"

Zaine bounced over, a smile on his face and very happy until he saw the somber faces of Hermione and Rachel. He paused beside Hermione and frowned at them both.

"Did something happen?" he asked.

"Just—something," said Hermione absently. "I'm going to bed. I'm tired."

Hermione got up and left. Zaine and Rachel watched her ascend the stairs to the girls' dormitory and disappear out of sight.

"Was Hogsmeade that bad today?" said Zaine, half-jokingly.

"I can't really tell you about it," whispered Rachel, on the verge of tears.

"Then don't," said Zaine.

"Thank you," said Rachel even quieter.

Zaine hugged her into his side when she began to cry. Rachel turned her face into his shoulder and cried, wondering how a someone could betray their best friend.

"Is he still asleep?" said Hermione, when Ron came down from the boys' dormitory the next morning.

Ron nodded.

Rachel sighed and ran a hand through her hair, pushing her bangs aside, and said, "Lets just let him sleep, he's had it rough. We'll bring him something from breakfast."

They went down to breakfast, where they were cheered up a little bit when Lukas used some joke items from Zonko's to prank the Weasley twins, who weren't expecting it. Rachel was quite proud of him—nobody had even gotten the Weasley twins pranked.

Rachel picked up some toast for Harry and they went back to the common room, where everybody else was gathering to go home. It was long before noon when they were alone in the common room, waiting for Harry to wake up (Ron checked and came back saying he was still asleep).

"Hermione," said Rachel, watching as Hermione spread her homework over three tables, "that's a lot of work."

"What do you care?" said Hermione. "I think we should be talking about more important things right now."

"Like what?" said Ron, who had taken out some candy from Hogsmeade to eat.

"Harry," said Hermione. "I mean," she glanced around to make sure they were alone and said in a whisper, "you know Harry, he's bound to do something stupid."

"Like what?" said Ron again.

"Go after Black."

"He wouldn't," said Rachel immediately. "Even Harry knows that's a terrible idea."

"He didn't think going into the Chamber of Secrets was a terrible idea, knowing that a basilisk can kill you with one glance," Hermione pointed out.

"Hermione's right," said Ron. He bit off a chunk of Pumpkin Pasty.

"So what do we do, tell Harry that he can't go after Black?" said Rachel.

"That'd be ideal, yes," Hermione said, writing down something on her notes.

"Well, then we tell him that," said Rachel.

"Who's going to say what?"

"I'll come up with something," said Rachel. "You guys just… say what you see fit?"

Hermione sighed, "Perfect. That's going to go perfectly fine."

"What else do you suggest?" said Rachel.

Hermione remained silent and Rachel sat back, accepting the Pink Coconut Ice Ron offered her. She munched on it as she read her book on magical creatures.

It was nearly lunchtime when Harry appeared at the top of the spiral staircase. He looked quite pale and his hair was even messier than usual.

"Harry, you—you look terrible," said Hermione.

"Where is everyone?" said Harry.

"Gone! It's the first day of the holidays, remember?" said Ron. "It's nearly lunchtime; I was going to come and wake you up in a minute."

Rachel stifled her snorts in her sleeve; she doubted that Ron would have come up. He was slouched in a chair and eating a Peppermint Toad.

Harry slumped into a chair next to the fire.

"You really don't look well, you know," Hermione said, peering anxiously into his face.

"I'm fine," said Harry.

"Harry, listen," said Rachel firmly, "you must be really upset about what we heard yesterday. But the thing is, you mustn't go doing anything stupid."

"Like what?" said Harry.

"Like trying to go after Black," said Ron sharply, speaking before Rachel could.

"You won't, will you, Harry?" said Hermione.

"Because Black's not worth dying for," said Ron.

"It won't be fair to your parents," said Rachel cautiously.

Harry looked at them.

"D'you know what I see and hear every time a dementor gets too near me?" Ron, Hermione, and Rachel shook their heads, looking apprehensive. "I can hear my mum screaming and pleading with Voldemort. And if you'd heard your mum screaming like that, just about to be killed, you wouldn't forget it in a hurry. And if you found out someone who was supposed to be a friend of hers betrayed her and sent Voldemort after her—"

Rachel shuddered, not wanting to think about her own mothing screaming and pleading with Voldemort. She didn't want to imagine it ever happening.

"There's nothing you can do!" said Rachel, feeling struck with emotion from what Harry said. "The dementors will catch Black and he'll go back to Azkaban and—and serve him right!"

"You heard what Fudge said. Black isn't affected by Azkaban like normal people are. It's not a punishment for him like it is for the others."

"So what are you saying?" said Ron, looking very tense. "You want to—to kill Black or something?"

"Don't be silly," said Hermione in a panicky voice. "Harry doesn't want to kill anyone, do you, Harry?"

Harry stayed quiet again. He looked as if he was contemplating many things.

"Malfoy knows," he said abruptly. "Remember what he said to me in Potions? 'If it was me, I'd hunt him down myself… I'd want revenge.'"

"You're going to take Malfoy's advice instead of ours?" said Ron furiously. "Listen… you know what Pettigrew's mother got back after Black had finished with him? Dad told me—the Order of Merlin, First Class, and Pettigrew's finger in a box. That was the biggest bit of him they could find. Black's a madman, Harry, and he's dangerous—"

"Malfoy's dad must have told him," said Harry, ignoring Ron. "He was right in Voldemort's inner circle—"

"Say You-Know-Who, will you?" interjected Ron angrily.

"—so obviously, the Malfoys knew Black was working for Voldemort—"

"—and Malfoy'd love to see you blown into about a million pieces, like Pettigrew! Get a grip. Malfoy's just hoping you'll get yourself killed before he has to play you at Quidditch."

"Harry, please," said Hermione, her eyes now shining with tears, "please be sensible. Black did a terrible, terrible thing, but d-don't put yourself in danger, it's what Black wants… Oh, Harry, you'd be playing right into Black's hands if you went looking for him. Your mum and dad wouldn't want you to get hurt, would they? They'd never want you to go looking for Black!"

"I'll never know what they'd have wanted, because thanks to Black, I've never spoken to them," said Harry shortly.

There was a silence in which Crookshanks, who lay in front of the fireplace, stretched luxuriously, flexing his claws. Ron's pocket quivered.

"Look," said Ron, obviously casting around for a change of subject, "it's the holidays! It's nearly Christmas! Let's—let's go down and see Hagrid. We haven't visited him for ages!"

"No!" said Hermione quickly. "Harry isn't supposed to leave the castle, Ron—"

"Yeah, let's go," said Harry, sitting up, "and I can ask him how come he never mentioned Black when he told me all about my parents!"

Ron seemed to panic.

"Or we could have a game of chess," he said hastily, "or Gobstones. Percy left a set—"

"No, let's visit Hagrid," said Harry firmly.

So they got their cloaks from their dormitories and set off through the portrait hole ("Stand and fight, you yellow-bellied mongrels!"), down through the empty castle and out through the oak front doors.

They made their way slowly down the lawn, making a shallow trench in the glittering, powdery snow, their socks and the hems of their cloaks soaked and freezing. The Forbidden Forest looked as though it had been enchanted, each tree smattered with silver, and Hagrid's cabin looked like an iced cake.

Ron knocked, but there was no answer.

"He's not out, is he?" said Hermione, who was shivering under her cloak.

Ron had his ear to the door.

"There's a weird noise," he said. "Listen—is that Fang?"

Harry, Hermione, and Rachel put their ears to the door too. From inside the cabin came a series of low, throbbing moans.

"Think we'd better go and get someone?" said Rachel nervously.

"Hagrid!" called Harry, thumping the door. "Hagrid, are you in there?"

There was a sound of heavy footsteps, then the door creaked open. Hagrid stood there with his eyes red and swollen, tears splashing down the front of his leather vest.

"Yeh've heard?" he bellowed, and he flung himself onto Harry's neck.

Ron and Hermione quickly rescued Harry, who was about to collapse underneath Hagrid's weight. They seized Hagrid under an arm and heaved him back into the cabin while Rachel made sure Harry was okay. They entered the cabin and Rachel closed the door.

"Hagrid, what is it?" said Hermione, aghast.

Rachel saw an official-looking letter laying on the table, which she guessed didn't mean good.

"What's this, Hagrid?"

Hagrid's sobs redoubled, but he shoved the letter toward Harry, who picked it up and read aloud:

Dear Mr. Hagrid,

Further to our inquiry into the attack by a hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident.

"Well, that's okay then, Hagrid!" said Ron, clapping Hagrid on the shoulder. But Hagrid continued to sob, and waved one of his gigantic hands, inviting Harry to read on.

However, we must register our concern about the hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and your hippogriff at the Committee's offices in London on that

date. In the meantime, the hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated.

Yours in fellowship…

There followed a list of the school governors that Harry didn't bother reading out. Rachel took the letter and read it, too, feeling even worse.

"Oh," said Ron. "But you said Buckbeak isn't a bad hippogriff, Hagrid. I bet he'll get off—"

"Yeh don' know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures!" choked Hagrid, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "They've got it in fer interestin' creatures!"

There was a sudden sound from the corner of Hagrid's cabin. Rachel whipped around, seeing Buckbeak lying in the corner, chomping on something that oozed blood all over the floor.

"I couldn' leave him tied up out there in the snow!" choked Hagrid. "All on his own! At Christmas."

Rachel moved toward Buckbeak and bowed, waiting for Buckbeak to bow back before she managed to sit beside him and slowly pet him. It made her feel a tiny bit better.

"You'll have to put up a good strong defense, Hagrid," said Hermione, sitting down to lay a hand on Hagrid's massive forearm. "I'm sure you can prove Buckbeak is safe."

"Won't make no diff'rence!" sobbed Hagrid. "Them Disposal devils, they're all in Lucius Malfoy's pocket! Scared o' him! An' if I lose the case, Buckbeak—"

Hagrid drew his finger swiftly across his throat, then gave a great wail and lurched forward, his face in his arms.

"What about Dumbledore, Hagrid?" said Harry.

"He's done more'n enough fer me already," groaned Hagrid. "Got enough on his plate what with keepin' them dementors outta the castle, an' Sirius Black lurkin' around—"

Rachel gave a cautious glance at Harry when Hagrid mentioned Sirius Black.

"Listen, Hagrid," Harry said, "you can't give up. Hermione's right, you just need a good defense. You can call us as witnesses—"

"I'm sure I've read about a case of hippogriff-baiting," said Hermione thoughtfully, "where the hippogriff got off. I'll look it up for you, Hagrid, and see exactly what happened."

Hagrid howled still more loudly. Harry, Hermione, and Rachel looked at Ron to help them.

"Er—shall I make a cup of tea?" said Ron.

Rachel groaned and shook her head.

"It's what my mum does whenever someone's upset," Ron muttered, shrugging.

At last, after many more assurances of help, with a steaming mug of tea in front of him, Hagrid blew his nose on a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth and said, "Yer right. I can' afford to go ter pieces. Gotta pull meself together…"

Fang the boarhound came timidly out from under the table and laid his head on Hagrid's knee.

"I've not bin meself lately," said Hagrid, stroking Fang with one hand and mopping his face with the other. "Worried abou' Buckbeak, an' no one likin' me classes—"

"We do like them!" lied Hermione at once.

"Yeah, they're great!" said Ron. "Er—how are the flobberworms?"

"Dead," said Hagrid gloomily. "Too much lettuce."

"Oh no!" said Ron, his lip twitching.

Rachel didn't mind that at all, but she didn't say this out loud.

"An' them dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an' all," said Hagrid, with a sudden shudder. "Gotta walk past 'em ev'ry time I want a drink in the Three Broomsticks. 'S like bein' back in Azkaban—"

He fell silent, gulping his tea. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Rachel watched him breathlessly. They had never heard Hagrid talk about his brief spell in Azkaban before. After a pause, Hermione said timidly, "Is it awful in there, Hagrid?"

"Yeh've no idea," said Hagrid quietly. "Never bin anywhere like it. Thought I was goin' mad. Kep' goin' over horrible stuff in me mind… the day I got expelled from Hogwarts… day me dad died… day I had ter let Norbert go…"

His eyes filled with tears. Norbert was the baby dragon Hagrid had once won in a game of cards, and it was an experience Rachel didn't like to remember.

"Yeh can' really remember who yeh are after a while. An' yeh can' see the point o' livin' at all. I used ter hope I'd jus' die in me sleep… When they let me out, it was like bein' born again, ev'rythin' came floodin' back, it was the bes' feelin' in the world. Mind, the dementors weren't keen on lettin' me go."

"But you were innocent!" said Rachel.

Hagrid snorted.

"Think that matters to them? They don' care. Long as they've got a couple o' hundred humans stuck there with 'em, so they can leech all the happiness out of 'em, they don' give a damn who's guilty an' who's not."

Hagrid went quiet for a moment, staring into his tea. Then he said quietly, "Thought o' jus' letting Buckbeak go… tryin' ter make him fly away… but how d'yeh explain ter a hippogriff it's gotta go inter hidin'? An'—an' I'm scared o' breakin' the law…" He looked up at them, tears leaking down his face again. "I don' ever want ter go back ter Azkaban."

The trip to Hagrid's was anything but fun, but luckily, Harry seemed to busy himself with the case against the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The following day, the four of them went to the library and returned to the common room with books that might help prepare a defense for Buckbeak. They sat in front of the roaring fire, looking through the books and speaking occasionally when they found something relevant.

"Here's something… there was a case in 1722…but the hippogriff was convicted—ugh, look what they did to it, that's disgusting—"

"This might help, look—a manticore savaged someone in 1296, and they let the manticore off—oh—no, that was only because everyone was too scared to go near it…"

The castle, meanwhile, was decorated with Christmas decorations. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, lights shone inside every suit of armor, and the Great Hall, was filled with twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars. Rachel also quite enjoyed the smell that wafted through the corridors.

On Christmas morning, Rachel woke up when Hermione walked huffily into the dormitory, carrying Crookshanks, who had a string of tinsel tied around his neck and who looked very grumpy.

"What's the matter?" said Rachel groggily, still waking up.

"Harry's gotten a Firebolt—"

"Really?" said Rachel, now wide awake. She jumped up. "From whom?"

"There wasn't a name from the sender," said Hermione.

"So what are you so mad about?" said Rachel. "It was probably McGonagall, or something. She sent Harry his Nimbus, didn't she?"

"I think it's Sirius Black who sent it."

Rachel froze, before laughing.

"It's not funny!" Hermione snapped. "A Firebolt is crazy expensive, why wouldn't the sender tell Harry who they are? Maybe Sirius Black sent Harry and jinxed it."

"Hermione, that's crazy," said Rachel.

Hermione huffed, "Just… forget it, then."

Rachel rolled her eyes and dove at the pile of presents at the foot-end of her bed. There was the usual sweater from Mrs. Weasley (red, with a yellow lion stitched on the back and Rachel's initials on the chest), along with a box of fudge, and her parents had given her some nice perfume. Lukas had given her a thick book on magical creatures that must've been hard to get, and her friends had sent her a collection of sweets, nice quills, and books.

Hermione had gotten dressed, angry about Ron's behaviour toward Crookshanks, and locked him up in their dormitory while Rachel let Remo roam freely. Ron seemed furious with Crookshanks and Hermione, and Rachel didn't bother with their fight, instead looking at the broom with Harry. The Christmas spirit was definitely very thin.

At lunchtime they went down to the Great Hall, to find that the House tables had been moved against the walls again, and that a single table, set for twelve, stood in the middle of the room. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a very old and rather moldy-looking tailcoat. There were only two other students, an extremely nervous-looking first year and a sullen-faced Slytherin fifth year.

"Merry Christmas!" said Dumbledore as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Rachel approached the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables… Sit down, sit down!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Rachel sat down side by side at the end of the table.

"Crackers!" said Dumbledore enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver noisemaker to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

Rachel tried her best not to laugh when Snape pushed the hat toward Dumbledore, who put it on right away.

"Dig in!" Dumbledore advised the table, beaming around.

Rachel had just gotten started with some beef when Professor Trelawney entered the Great Hall. She was wearing a green sequined dress that Rachel didn't like.

"Sibyll, this is a pleasant surprise!" said Dumbledore, standing up.

"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest, most faraway voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness…"

Rachel looked at Ron and they giggled silently.

"Certainly, certainly," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Let me draw you up a chair—"

He drew a chair in midair with his wand. It fell with a thud between Professor Snape and McGonagall. Professor Trelawney didn't sit down, however; her eyes were looking around the table, and she suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream.

"I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"

"We'll risk it, Sibyll," said Professor McGonagall impatiently. "Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold."

Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen.

"Tripe, Sibyll?"

Professor Trelawney ignored her. Eyes open again, she looked around once more and said, "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," said Dumbledore, indicating that everybody should start serving themselves. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."

"But surely you already knew that, Sibyll?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyebrows raised.

Professor Trelawney gave Professor McGonagall a very cold look.

"Certainly I knew, Minerva," she said quietly. "But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."

"That explains a great deal," said Professor McGonagall tartly.

Professor Trelawney's voice suddenly became a good deal less misty.

"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him—"

"Imagine that," said Professor McGonagall dryly. Rachel hid her laughter in a cough.

"I doubt," said Dumbledore, in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney's conversation, "that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, Headmaster," said Snape.

Rachel observed Snape; he seemed very cold, and she guessed it was Wolfsbane he'd made for Professor Lupin. Snape caught her looking and glared at her, to which she looked away swiftly, but she caught the smirk that had spread on his face.

"Good," said Dumbledore. "Then he should be up and about in no time… Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent."

The first-year boy went furiously red on being addressed directly by Dumbledore, and took the platter of sausages with trembling hands.

Professor Trelawney behaved almost normally until the very end of Christmas dinner, two hours later. Full to bursting with Christmas dinner and still wearing their party hats, Harry, Ron, and Rachel got up first from the table and she shrieked loudly.

"My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?"

"Dunno," said Ron, looking uneasily at Harry and Rachel.

"I doubt it will make much difference," said Professor McGonagall coldly, "unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the entrance hall."

Even Ron laughed. Professor Trelawney looked highly affronted.

"Coming?" Harry said to Hermione.

"No," Hermione muttered, "I want a quick word with Professor McGonagall."

"Probably trying to see if she can take any more classes," yawned Ron as they made their way into the entrance hall, which was completely devoid of mad axe-men.

"Knowing Hermione, she would," said Rachel. "There's that Xylomancy class, maybe she's going to take that…"

When they reached the portrait hole, they found Sir Cadogan enjoying a Christmas party with a couple of monks, several previous headmasters of Hogwarts, and his fat pony. He pushed up his visor and toasted them with a flagon of mead.

"Merry—hic—Christmas! Password?"

"Scurvy cur," said Ron.

"And the same to you, sir!" roared Sir Cadogan as the painting swung forward to admit them.

Harry went up to his dormitory while Rachel and Ron waited impatiently in the common room. He came back down with the Firebolt and a Broomstick Servicing Kit, but the broom didn't need anything polished or serviced, so they admired it from every angle until Hermione entered the common room, and Professor McGonagall followed her.

It was quite uncommon to see Professor McGonagall in the common room; Rachel had only seen it once to make a grave announcement. She stared at her, while Ron and Harry held the Firebolt. Hermione walked around them, sat down, and hid her face behind the nearest book.

"So that's it, is it?" said Professor McGonagall beadily, walking over to the fireside and staring at the Firebolt. "Miss Granger has just informed me that you have been sent a broomstick, Potter."

Harry, Ron, and Rachel looked around at Hermione. Only her red forehead was visible over her book, which she held upside down.

"May I?" said Professor McGonagall, but she didn't wait for an answer before pulling the Firebolt out of their hands. She examined it carefully from handle to twig-ends. "Hmm. And there was no note at all, Potter? No card? No message of any kind?"

"No," said Harry blankly.

"I see…," said Professor McGonagall. "Well, I'm afraid I will have to take this, Potter."

"W—what?" said Harry, scrambling to his feet. "Why?"

Rachel's mouth fell open in disbelief.

"It will need to be checked for jinxes," said Professor McGonagall. "Of course, I'm no expert, but I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip it down—"

"Strip it down?" repeated Ron, as though Professor McGonagall was mad.

"It shouldn't take more than a few weeks," said Professor McGonagall. "You will have it back if we are sure it is jinx-free."

"There's nothing wrong with it!" said Harry, his voice shaking slightly. "Honestly, Professor—"

"You can't know that, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, quite kindly, "not until you've flown it, at any rate, and I'm afraid that is out of the question until we are certain that it has not been tampered with. I shall keep you informed."

Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole, which closed behind her. Harry stared at her, Rachel's mouth was still open in shock, and Ron rounded on Hermione.

"What did you go running to McGonagall for?"

Hermione threw her book aside. She was still pink in the face, but stood up and faced Ron defiantly.

"Because I thought—and Professor McGonagall agrees with me—that that broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!"