Hagrid's Tale
Lively as ever after a win, the Gryffindor common room was a storm of cheers at Siria's entry. Hermione clung to Siria's arm, as though someone might attack Siria if she let go. She plowed through the crowd of people patting Siria's back and dragged her to a far wall.
Ron's head was drapped so low, his chin looked sewn to his shirt. He held the neck of his butterbeer bottle down at his side. Some trickled out of the bottle and onto the carpet. His feet inched forward, as he slid ever so slowly, lower on the wall.
"You weren't kidding," Siria whispered to Hermione. "Why don't you go grab two butterbeers? I've got this," and Siria rose, to her full height. She felt the tension in her shoulders loosen with the release of their hunched position for her tall stance, her Sirius-like stance. Siria kicked a foot against the wall, as she rested her back on it. She nudged Ron with her shoulder.
"Heard you carried me to the Wing," Siria smirked. "That's pretty damn impressive— and after you blocked those two goals by Bradshaw and Montague," she whistled.
"Two of six," Ron grumbled. "Angelina won't let me resign though."
"Resign? Mate," Siria headbunted the side of his. He grunted. "How do you expect to ever get a girl like that?"
"What're you talking about?"
"People don't play Quidditch for the sport, they play for the game," and Siria nodded to the sea of people partying up before them.
"No one wants me, I'm lousy," he sighed. Siria ran a hand through her mane of hair.
Hermione smiled and handed Siria a butterbeer. She eyed Ron, but said nothing. Instead, she took Siria's other side and leaned on her arm. "Any luck?" Hermione whispered. Siria placed her index and thumb close to each other.
"Tell you what," Siria said to Ron, "pick any one and I'll go out with them—" her eyes widened at Hermione's dropped jaw. "Wheres as you just need to get any girl to go out with you. You get a girl to say 'yes', even if I get the person you pick, you win and I carry your bag the rest of the year. If I get the person of your pick to agree and you don't get anyone, I get to burn your clothes and you have to wear whatever Chloe sends."
"All year?" Ron asked. "It's only November."
"What do you want then? Your mum just got you an owl."
"I just don't know if you can carry my bag that long."
"You think you'll win?" Siria asked with a cocky smirk. "Pick away, Weasley."
Ron rose up. He tilted his head, to appear even taller than Siria. Ron stuck out his hand. Siria shook it. He nodded and leaned back against the wall. His butterbeer lifted to his chest as he leaned his head toward Siria's.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked in a quiet hiss. Siria brushed over her lips, a single finger waived in a silent shush. Ron pointed to a few different people with "What about them?" and to each, Siria replied, "whoever you want." A smile started to creep over his face.
"Fred and George," Ron said. Siria puckered her lips like she bit something bitter. She lowered her butterbeer.
"You do realise they're two people," she said.
"Either," Ron said with a haughty grin.
"Oh, you think you won because you picked a sibling? Let's go," Siria raised her watch. Hermione rolled her eyes. "One hour— go," she winked at him and headed straight for the twins.
She arched an eyebrow at Ron as she sat down on George's armrest. "Wanna help Ron get some swagger?" Siria whispered with a thin smirk.
"Potter-Black, what are you planning?" George asked with a smirk that mirrored hers. She nodded to his lap.
"May I?" She asked. George raised his arms. Siria slid onto him. She smirked over the top of the chair at Ron, who went pale. "Let's get him a girlfriend."
"Who do you have in mind?" George asked.
"Preferably someone about to take their N.E.W.T.s or O.W.L.s, so they'll have time to do a date or two before exams and fall apart," Siria said. He straightened up, but kept an arm on the armrest and the other hanging off.
"Does Ronald know what you're planning?" George asked. "Does Hermione?"
"Hermione, more or less, Ron thinks I'm trying to get you to go on a date with me— we made a bet," Siria confessed. George took a sip of his butterbeer.
"A bet, you wound me, my lady," George laughed.
"You in or not? Because it's going to be very awkward if I have to ask to sit in Fred's lap after yours." She took a drink at the look on his face. "It was 'Fred or George'."
"And you picked me? Should I be flattered or insulted?"
"Neither. Fred's been eyeing Yang all week. Though I think she likes Powell, I'm not about to sink his ship."
"Olive Foster and Nancy Hughes, or anyone in your year, and you'd know them better," George nodded to a group of seventh year girls. Siria placed her head inches from his and followed his eyes. "The two brunettes. Foster, with the freckles, just got dumped."
"Wave her over for me?"
"For our investors, anything," George smiled.
So close their noses brushed against each other, Ron danced in Siria's face. He flailed his arms in the air. "Olive Foster— Olive Foster," he chanted in a much brighter mood than Siria had seen him in ages. "We're meeting in the library for a date that's more date than study," and Ron scrunched up his face in a series kisses.
"This has been a brilliant show, but, as I've been trying to tell you— Hagrid is back!" Hermione snapped.
"What?" Ron and Siria asked. Hermione pointed at the window without letting her glare leave them. They peered out to see soft orange light slipping through the curtains of Hagrid's hut.
"Let's go," Siria said.
"Umbridge is there," Hermione said. "We can visit tomorrow."
"You can visit tomorrow, I'm going tonight," Siria said.
"Same," Ron agreed. "Umbridge can't be there forever. I'll watch while you get the Cloak," he added as he sat down beside the window.
Hermione chased after Siria up the stairs. Her voice was a constant hiss. "Why can't you wait until the morning? You've waited all summer and the last two months—" Hermione said.
"It's because I waited so long," Siria shook her head as she pushed the door to their dorm open. "He missed my game, and Hagrid's never missed a game before." She knelt beside her trunk and rummaged for the cloak.
"Oh, yes. Well, if he missed Quidditch," Hermione hissed, the sarcasm heavy in her voice while she accepted the winter jacket from Siria. "Siria, I'll tell Sirius!" Hermione added on Siria's heels as she headed down the stairs.
"Tell him," Siria pulled the compact from her pocket and tossed it to Hermione. She clapped her hands around the mirror, surprised at her own catch. Hermione had to jump down every few stairs to keep up with Siria, who easily skipped three at her pace.
"Umbridge just left," Ron said when Hermione and Siria entered the common room. "Are you coming after all?" Ron asked.
"Well," Hermione sighed and handed the mirror back to Siria. "Yes. I don't want to hear second hand," she pulled the jacket on. Siria passed Ron a sweater from under arm. Hermione tapped the top of her head with her wand and disappeared from sight. They heard her sigh.
"Don't really need the Cloak, if you're coming along," Ron told Hermione.
"Fine," Hermione said. Ron vanished, then Siria. She hung the Cloak around her invisible shoulders.
The trio linked hands and snuck out of the castle, across the grounds, and knocked of the door of Hagrid's hut. Hagrid opened the door. "Who's there?" He asked. Beneath the bush of black hair and his thick beard, they made out cuts and bruises. A bloody, green-tinged steak, larger than a car tire was pressed to his eye (B5, 422).
"It's us," Siria whispered. He chuckled at the general area of her voice. [B5, 422]
"Shoulda known you lot would come around," he said as he stepped to the side to let them in. Hagrid closed the door behind them. "What're yer doin' up so late?"
"We won today's match," Siria said, as she rummaged through her jacket pockets. Hermione revealed herself first, then Ron as he sat beside her, then Siria who sat last.
"Match? Blimey! But o' course you won," he grinned at Siria as he put a kettle over the fire.
"We'll tell you all about it, if you tell us where you've been," Ron wagered. [B5, 422]
"Can't," said Hagrid, "be more than me job's worth."
"No luck with the giants?" Hermione asked. Siria locked eyes with her in a shared moment of mischievousness.
"Who said anythin' 'bout giants?" Hagrid asked, but he turned away.
"You and Madame Maxime went on a mission for Dumbledore, and you look like you've been beaten to near death," Siria told him. She placed a small, plastic container, which looked like it contained lotion, on the table. "Try that on the cuts."
"I'll be fine. I got a dragon steak," he said and gestured to the slab of meat on his eye.
"About the giants," Ron reminded him that they had not forgotten.
"I always said you kids know more than you ought."
"It's not difficult to figure out," said Hermione. Hagrid shook his head and poured the boiling water into mugs with tea bags. He handed them out. [B5, 422-423]
"Alright," Hagrid sighed as Fang rested his head on Siria's knee. "It isn't as excitin' as yer win today, I'd bet, but okay." Hagrid explained that he and Madame Maxime left at the end of term. They wandered around France until they lost the Ministry Wizard tailing them, then hiked through to where the giants were. [B5, 424-426]
He told them how the pair waited the first night, then brought a gift down to the giant chief, the Gurg. They presented him with a branch of Gubraithian fire, everlasting fire. The next day, they came with a goblin-made battle helmet. When they explained Dumbledore sent them, the Gurg seemed interested, as did the giants who spoke any English. [B5, 426-429]
However, that night, fighting broke out and a new Gurg beheaded the first. Hagrid and Madame Maxime went down to talk with the new Gurg, but he was not as interested as the first. The Gurg hung Hagrid upside down, which caused Madame Maxime to use magic to make them release Hagrid. As she used magic, they had to flee. [B5, 429-431]
"How come it's taken you so long to get home if you were only there for three days?" Hermione asked (B5, 431).
"We didn' leave after three days!" said Hagrid (B5, 431). He told them how he and Madame Maxime went through the caves and tried to persuade other giants to join. Death Eaters arrived and convinced the new Gurg to join Voldemort. Madame Maxime and Hagrid continued to try the caves for giants, worried they may run into the Death Eaters. A few seemed interested, until the new Gurg raided the caves and none of the giants wanted anything to do with Hagrid or Madame Maxime anymore. [B5, 431-433]
"But Madame Maxime got back at the start of term," Siria said. "Why've you been gone so much longer?"
"Were you…" Hermione paused. She eyed Siria as though about to say something that may offend. "Were you looking for your mother?"
"Blimey, no," Hagrid shook his head. "Did hear she passed, though, years ago."
"Oh, I'm— I'm so sorry," Hermione said (B5, 434). Siria put her hand on Hagrid's.
"Don' yer worry 'bout that," he said and patted Siria's hand. "Not much o' a great mother." [B5, 433-434]
"'Nough about me though," Hagrid told them and resumed drinking his tea. "Wha's been on 'ere? That Umbridge woman know 'ow to teach?" Hermione scoffed. Ron sniggered. Siria let out a bark of laughter.
"Merlin, no," Siria said. "The Ministry thinks Dumbledore's raising an army, so they don't want us learning anything that could be used against them."
"Yer ain't learnin' how to defend yerselves" Hagrid asked.
"Umbridge isn't teaching us at all," Hermione said with a look to Ron and Siria.
"We're not worried," Ron said. Siria raised her mug to her mouth, to hide her smirk.
"'Suppose with Dumbledore and 'ere you don' 'ave to, but once yer' out there," Hagrid shook his head. He placed the green steak on the table and looked at the small container Siria put down earlier.
"Siria, 'ow's this mix with dragon blood? Do yer know?" Hagrid asked. He opened it up and examined the chartreuse paste.
"I don't know," Siria confessed. "Dragon blood's really expensive, so I didn't use any—"
"Yer brewed it yerself?" Hagrid grinned. He rubbed his face on his sleeve, to wipe away some of the blood.
"Do you want a hand?" Siria asked as she reached for the container. Hagrid chuckled.
"I got i' alright," he said. Hagrid dabbed the paste along the cuts. "What balm is it?"
"Oh," Siria hunched in her chair. She muttered something. Hagrid asked again.
"It doesn't have a name," Hermione said. "Siria made it."
The balm slid down Hagrid's palm, but he caught it and smacked it on the table. He leaned toward Siria, a wide smile. "Yer makin' Potions o' yer own! Siria, tha's brilliant," Hagrid slammed Siria into the table as he tried to pat her back. "Sorry, Siria."
"Fine," she weazed. "It's nothing special."
"Nothin' special? Nothin' special? It's bleedin' brilliant," he said. "Jus' like yer mum. She 'ad such a knack fer Potions. Blimey," Hagrid swept the balm backup and beamed at it.
"Madam Pomfrey did most of it and Cassius helped a lot," Siria tried to defend.
"Not that much," said Ron. "Cassius only referred her to other Potions and Madam Pomfrey just watched!" Siria turned her face to the table. She pulled a hand to her forehead, to cover her blushing face.
"Yer ought to be proud," Hagrid told her. "I's workin' brilliantly. Can I keep it?" Siria nodded. "Wha's with yer, Siria? Yer ought to be proud— yer ought to send it to Saint Mungo's."
"It's mostly just a modified Scar Removal Solution," she grumbled. "Nothing to write home about."
"Don't mind her," Hermione snapped. "She's still down about the break up."
"Break up?" Hagrid asked.
"It's over," Siria hissed.
"Lily Moon and Siria," Ron started. Siria socked his arm.
"Dated until a week ago," Hermione finished. Siria glared at her.
"Datin', Siria, 'ave yer, er…" Hagrid paused.
"I told Sirius and Remus… and Mrs. Weasley," Siria sighed. "I don't want to talk about it."
"But that's why she's so down," Hermione whispered to Hagrid. "She's taking it hard." Siria focused on the table. The old, worn, scratched up table.
Lily Moon had not visited either practice this week. Instead, Siria of seeing smiling, happy, adorable Lily Moon, Siria saw Draco Bleeding Malfoy. "Did you even like her as much as she liked you?" Malfoy asked in their Thursday practice. "Sure, you fancied her, but the stares she gave you." Siria replied with "of course!" without thinking, but, how could she measure how much they liked each other?
After she shouted at Malfoy over the Weasley is Our King song, she focused on that. Focused on helping the twins, on the balm, on… Siria's stomach flipped. Someone scraped it out of her and put it on the table. As in the open as her heart.
"Hagrid, what do you know about independent study classes?" Siria asked, unaware of the hushed conversation she interrupted.
"Inderpenten' study?" Hagrid asked. "Never did 'em meself, but yer can ask Professor Chaudhary. 'E mostly teaches them N.E.W.T. level. Anyway, i's late and yer best be getting on," he rose up and started to usher them out.
"Hagrid," Hermione hissed. "Well, I'll be back tomorrow!" She said as he hurried them out. Hermione disappeared, then Ron, then Siria, who still draped the Cloak around her shoulders.
"What are you coming back for?" Siria asked as they trudged through the snow, back to the castle.
"I need to know what lessons he's got planned," Hermione said. Beneath the snow crunching, Siria could make out the sway of Hermione's hair as she shook her head.
"Can't be anything too bad, with Sirius keeping an eye on it," Ron said. Hermione gave a short laugh, which said she did not believe it at all.
"I'll need your mirror," Hermione told Siria. "I'm going to double team it with Sirius. He'll guilt Hagrid about the hippogriff."
"Woah!" Siria said, "Madam Pomfrey fixed me up fine— it was Malfoy's fault anyway." Siria had to drop it when they entered the castle, until they returned to the common room.
"The same Malfoy you're making me give private lessons to," Siria snapped the moment the Fat Lady's portrait closed behind them. Hermione reappeared, then Ron, then Siria. "Who wrote Weasley is Our King, who made the 'Siria Pooper' buttons, who said he hoped you'd die—"
"That's enough!" Hermione snapped back. She stood right before Siria, their toes touching. "People change— Dudley changed, you've changed—"
"He's—"
"Siria Jessica Potter-Black."
"Hermione Jean Granger! Using my full name means nothing."
"He was going to rat us out to Umbridge," Ron said.
"Stay out of it!" Hermione and Siria snapped. Ron raised his hands in air.
"If you don't want to teach him, then I will," Hermione said. "We're not losing the DA to him."
"You left me in the hands of a lunatic, but I wouldn't make you," Siria said.
"You just don't like having to see him change," Hermione said. "It's so much easier for you to say Malfoy's bad and that's all he'll ever be— spoiled son of a Death Eater, but we can't write someone off just because of how we see them."
"How we— how we see them? Hermione, that's how everyone sees him!"
"And everyone saw me as a bossy know-it-all until the troll!" Hermione cried.
Like her foot missed a step, Siria's heart skipped. Her mind ticked like a broken clock, repeating the last sentence. She wanted to look to Ron, to ask for help, but couldn't look away from Hermione. Hermione who never seemed so small as when she took the three steps away from Siria. Hermione who cradled herself in her arms and looked to the floor.
"'Mione, you are a bossy know-it-all, and I'd've died without you being such," Siria whispered into the dark common room. Only the faintest slivers of light broke in from the windows. Their three faces were cast in shadows.
"Well, you're tall," Hermione sniffed. Her hand brushed up to her face. Though Siria couldn't see, she heard the rub of Hermione's gloves against her cheeks.
"Time I ought to finally be proud of it again," Siria said. "I won't complain about Malfoy anymore."
"You can complain to me," Ron whispered. Three chuckles rang and seemed so loud in the otherwise empty room.