AN Thanks to the reviewer by the name of QuidditchGirl for catching an error. I don't have a beta, so any politely phrased constructive criticism is always welcome. Cheers!
Potions was cancelled the week after Gryffindor's victory over Hufflepuff, since Snape had fallen ill with the same cold that had stricken Dumbledore earlier in the month. The news was cause for even more celebration in the Gryffindor common room, with the exceptions of Percy, who was studying furiously for his O.W.L.'s; Hermione, who claimed that missing a single class could irrevocably ruin a person's education; and Jessica Gillis, the lone seventh-year who had made it into Snape's N.E.W.T. level class. Fred and George took the opportunity to steal supplies from Snape's private store, dragging Harry along with them to act as lookout.
After Snape, it seemed like the cold was traveling around the staff. By the end of February, only a week after the Quidditch match, Professor's McGonagall, Flitwick, and Vector all had had to spend the three days it seemed to take to get over the cold in the Hospital Wing. When the students finally returned to Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms, all three professors were oddly subdued. Snape was nowhere near as vitriolic towards Harry or the rest of the Gryffindors, and Flitwick wasn't as cheerful as usual. Professor McGonagall had seemed the same, until she told Harry not to work ahead of the class. Only the week before, she had started giving Harry extra assignments from Lessons for the Newfound Prodigy.
Aside from the professors' unusual behavior, classes were normal for an entire week. Then, the rest of the teachers got sick at the same time, even Madam Pomfrey. All classes except for Transfiguration, Charms, History of Magic, and Arithmancy were canceled during the second week of March. Potions was cancelled since Snape was the only person in the castle qualified to care for them. Some of the sixth and seventh year students only had class twice a week if they were only taking one of the four subjects. The only non-students to escape the Three-Day Cold, as people had taken to calling it, were Filch and Hagrid. There had been a general outcry of irritation when students had found out the library would be closed until Madam Pince recovered, and Harry heard Professor Flitwick telling Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore that he'd thought his Ravenclaws were going to start a riot.
Madam Pince returned to the library four days after it had closed, looking paler than usual and missing her typical suspicious expression as she let in the waiting group of students, which was mainly comprised of Ravenclaws, fifth years, and seventh years. Harry, Neville, and Hermione had also agreed to return to the library since they'd already had their only class of the day, History of Magic.
"I hope Professor Sprout gets better soon," Neville confided in Harry as they took a table in between the Ancient History and Magical Creatures sections of the library. Their usual table between the Potions and Transfiguration sections had been claimed by two seventh-year Slytherins.
"She will," Hermione assured him as she placed a large stack of books on the table with a loud thump that shook dust from several of the tomes. "It only lasts three days." Harry frowned; something about Hermione's last statement didn't seem right and was niggling at her.
The reluctant thought was chased away when Neville said, a bit loudly, "Hey. Is that Hagrid?"
Harry turned her head so fast she thought she heard a creak. Sure enough, a large figure that could only be Hagrid was lurking in the Magical Creatures section.
"Hi, Hagrid," she called out after glancing in the direction of Madam Pince's desk. After a moment, the large man stepped out of the shadows, hands clasped behind his back.
"Hey there, you three. 'ow's it goin'. Yer not feelin' ill, are yeh?"
"No," Neville said.
"It's only the teachers that are getting sick, anyways," Harry pointed out. "What are you looking for in there."
"Oh. Er. Nothin'. Jus' lookin', is all. 'ave a nice rest o' the day." And he shuffled off, not turning his back until he was out of sight.
"He was hiding something," Hermione immediately burst out. "Do you think it has anything to do with," she paused and glanced around, "Flamel?" she mouthed.
Harry shook her head. "I doubt it, but it doesn't hurt to check." She stood and left the other two, hearing, as she walked away, Hermione pass a book to Neville and tell him to start searching. Harry browsed the books near where Neville had first seen Hagrid. They were all the same. She raced back to Neville and Hermione, glad that they were far enough away from Madam Pince that she couldn't hear, and also for the fact that the librarian was too subdued to actually patrol. "Dragons," Harry panted. "He was in the dragon section!"
"Why's that?" Hermione asked.
"There's no dragons in the Forbidden Forest, are there?" Neville asked, glancing worriedly out the window at the gloomy looking trees.
"Of course not," Harry reassured him. "There are very few wild dragons any more, and most of those are in rural Africa or the Asian Steppes."
"Harry's right," Hermione said. "I read all about dragons when I found out I was a witch since I couldn't believe they were actually, well, real. The last wild dragon in the United Kingdom was sent to the Dragon Sanctuary on the Hebrides in nineteen twenty-two."
"Oh." Neville relaxed into his chair and despondently turned a page of the book Hermione had given him, The Brightest Minds of the Past Hundred Years.
"The real question is," Hermione continued, "Is what he's doing reading about dragons."
"Well," Harry said, "He did say he liked dragons. Maybe he just wants to learn more."
Hermione gave her an incredulous look and pushed Madness, Maladies, and Miracles towards her. "When have you ever seen Hagrid in the library?" she asked. "I've certainly never seen him, and I'm in here much more than you or Neville."
Harry refrained from saying, Are you sure you don't live in here?, and settled for, "Maybe he's trying to find out how to get one for a pet."
Hermione snapped, "Don't joke about things like that," and buried her nose in The Fifty Most Important Magical Discoveries of the Millenium, effectively ending the conversation.
By the last week of March, the snow had melted and spring was well and truly on its way. Quidditch practice was no longer a test of how long it took for Harry's hands to freeze to her broom handle, and the lake started to see visitors on the weekends. None of the teachers were back to full health, and Snape, nearly a month after his illness, had yet to force Harry to start a potion over for no reason, something which made life immensely more bearable.
Oliver was a man possessed. With Slytherin's (admittedly narrow) loss to Hufflepuff, the only thing standing between the Gryffindor Quidditch Team and the Quidditch Cup was Ravenclaw. The only way Ravenclaw could win would be if they beat Hufflepuff by two hundred points, which everybody agreed would never happen, and even then they would need to beat Gryffindor in the final match by a margin of one-hundred and thirty. As a way to assure that Ravenclaw had no chance of winning, Oliver had taken to scheduling practice at five o'clock every morning, six days a week.
On the first Saturday of his new, grueling regime, Harry met Neville and Hermione below the stands where they had been watching practice since half-past nine. Hermione silently handed over a stack of buttered toast, which Harry gratefully wolfed down as they walked out of the pitch and onto the sloping lawns the surrounded Hogwarts.
"Thanks," she said as she came up for air. "We spent the first hour listening to him go on about Ravenclaw's seeker, the seventh-year Richard Pranfort, and didn't get on the field until seven thirty."
"That's awful," Hermione said. "You should talk to someone about making the practices at a more practical time."
"No!" Harry objected, accidentally spewing crumbs out of her mouth in her haste. "Oh, sorry Neville," she said after swallowing. She turned back to Hermione. "The practice time is fine! Honestly!" she added when Hermione pursed her lips in a very McGonagall fashion.
"We were just about to visit Hagrid," she said. "I want to know if we can find out anything about Flamel from him."
"Given up on the library?" Harry asked before she crunched into her third slice of toast.
"No," Hermione said immediately. Then, a few minutes later, "Maybe. But if we could just get into the Restricted Section, I know we could find something!" she protested.
Harry tried and failed to suppress a smile. Hermione's faith in the library was almost illogical. Harry knew very well that books didn't hold the answers to everything; the amount of time she had spent searching for information on Sirius Black, who she had then believed to be her godfather, had taught her that. Hermione simply hadn't discovered that yet.
By the time the trio of first years stood in front of Hagrid's door, Harry had finished the last piece of buttered toast. She wadded up the cloth napkin Hermione had brought it in and shoved it into her cloak pocket. Even though March was nearly over, with spring just around the corner, the days were still quite chilly. Hermione reached out and rapped smartly on the door with her knuckles.
Harry heard Hagrid's large footsteps approaching the door, but the giant man only opened the door a crack, exposing a single slice of his large, hairy face.
"Sorry, no time fer visitors today, come back later." The door closed in their faces.
"Well," Hermione huffed, slightly cross that her plan wasn't playing out. "That was rude." She knocked again, and Hagrid's footsteps, which had been retreating, paused, then came closer.
"Now really," he protested through the small crack in the door. "I don' 'ave time fer yeh!"
Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Harry beat her to it. "It's about Fluffy." The reaction was immediate. Hagrid scowled, and his eyes flicked to something in his hut that only he could see, but he relented.
"All righ'," he said slowly, opening the door to let them in. "But on'y for a mo'. I don' 'ave much time fer yeh," he repeated.
Harry led the way into the cabin, and nearly wilted at the heat. Hagrid's cabin was sweltering, hotter than any summer's day Harry had experienced at home. She took off her cloak and swung it over the back of one of the four kitchen chairs before sitting down. Hermione and Neville followed her lead, taking off their cloaks before sitting. Hagrid, wearing an enormous flowery apron, sat in the last remaining chair. Unlike the other times they had visited, Hagrid didn't offer tea.
"Wha' about Fluffy?" he asked gruffly, tapping his thick fingers on the table-top in an erratic rhythm.
"Well, it's more about Flamel than it is Fluffy," Harry admitted, and Hagrid's face darkened.
"I tol' yeh ter keep out o' it!" In his anger, Hagrid was rather frightening.
"Look," Harry said, trying to diffuse some of Hagrid's irritation. "As soon as we find out who he is, we'll forget this whole thing ever happened. We just want to know!"
Those words did the trick, but not in the way Harry had imagined. Hagrid relaxed, all the anger draining from his face. "So yer haven't been able ter figure out who 'e is, have yeh? Good. Tha's how it should be. An' you three should keep yer noses ou' of it! It ain't no safe thing, messin' aroun' with Profess'r Dumbledore's business."
Harry slumped back into her chair. Now that her bid for information had failed, she could feel beads of sweat dripping down the back of her neck. "Hagrid, can we open a window or something?" Neville nodded in agreement, his face pink from the heat. Hermione's hair had frizzed out to several times its normal volume.
"Sorry," he said, "Can't. Yeh'll jus' have ter leave. It's plenty nice outside." But his eyes flicked over once more, and this time Harry could see what he was looking towards.
"Hagrid," she said, peering more closely at the fireplace, which had flames that reached nearly to the flue. "Is that…?"
Neville and Hermione had followed her line of sight, and Neville blurted out, "But that's illegal!"
Hermione, who's eyebrows had snapped together at Neville's outburst, said slowly, "Is that a dragon egg?"
"No, o'course not!" Hagrid said loudly, standing up and moving in front of the fire to block their view.
"Yes," Harry said, also standing to peer around Hagrid's large girth. "It is. Alex went through an obsession with being a dragon keeper when he was eight. I learned more than I ever wanted to know about dragons. That," she declared, "Is a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare," she added for Hermione's benefit. Somehow, she doubted the bushy-haired bookworm had done that much research into dragons.
"Really?" Hermione asked, also standing to get a better look. "That's fascinating. Why is it in the fireplace? Won't it get cooked?"
"No, no, 'e's jus' fine in there," Hagrid said. "Nestin' mothers breathe fire on their eggs ter keep 'em warm. Can't really sit on 'em like chicken do, can they? Too big, yer see. So I jus' stuck 'im in the fire. I read all about it," he said. In his excitement over the dragon egg, Hagrid seemed to have forgotten Harry, Hermione, and Neville's purpose behind their visit. He crossed over to his bed and pulled a book titled Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit from under his pillow. Scanning the room once more, Harry saw a second book, From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide, leaning against a large wooden mug on the dresser. "See. Got 'em from the library. Madam Pince weren't too glad to let me 'ave 'em, though," he added with a small frown.
Harry let out a small snort. She couldn't imagine the strict librarian ever letting Hagrid, who always had some sort of scratch or scrape, and who she'd never once seen without some sort of stains on his hands, take out any of her precious books. The dragon egg, however, was very interesting, she had to admit.
"What are you going to do with it?" she asked Hagrid.
"Keep 'im," the big man answered. "Say's 'ere that when they're in captivitiy they'll be needin' chicken blood mixed wi' brandy, an' I got plenty o' that stocked up." He cast a tender glance at the large black egg in the flames.
"Hagrid," Hermione said timidly, "You do realize that you live in a wooden house, don't you?"
"Wha'? O' course!" He waved a large meaty hand.
Harry shook her head at Hermione when the girl made to speak again. She could tell that it was pointless. Hagrid would be hatching that dragon, regardless of the chance that it might burn down his hut and everything in it.
"Well," she said loudly. "It was nice to visit you, Hagrid. You don't mind if we come and watch the hatching, do you?" When Hagrid looked like he was about to object, she added, "It's not every day that a chance to see a dragon hatching comes along."
Cottoning on, Hermione added, "It would be very educational," in a serious tone.
Even Neville put his two knuts in. "Y-yes. Gran always said a dragon hatching is one of the seven natural wonders of the wizarding world."
Hagrid beamed. "Well, if yeh put it like tha', I can' rightly say no." And, still smiling, he shooed the three out of his cabin, where they promptly drew in great breaths of cool air and threw their cloaks on.
"Is he insane?" Hermione hissed on their way back up to the castle, throwing a dirty look back at the smoke streaming up from Hagrid's chimney. "A dragon! In a school full of children! What could possibly go wrong!?"
"I know," Harry said. "At this point, I'm wondering if Hagrid's even more off his rocker than Dumbledore." Hermione looked affronted at this blatant insult to the headmaster, but Neville nodded in agreement.
"At least Dumbledore's got common sense. He wouldn't try to hatch a dragon in a wooden hut."
"We should go to Professor McGonagall," Hermione said. "Tell her about the dragon."
"We can't," Harry said, pulling her two friends towards the lake where they could continue their conversation without much fear of being overheard. "As Neville said earlier, dragons are illegal. And the punishment for trading their eggs is at least five years in Azkaban." Neville shuddered, but Hermione only looked confused. "Wizarding prison for the United Kingdom and high security French and Spanish," Harry explained grimly before continuing. "Hagrid may have a dragon egg, but he doesn't deserve that time in Azkaban, and if we told McGonagall, she'd be bound by oath to report him. Same with Dumbledore."
"But - what can we do?" Hermione asked in a small voice.
"I don't know," Harry said, staring out at the lake. "For now - nothing. We've got a few months at the very least. I don't know how fast dragons grow, or even when his egg is going to hatch."
They sat in silence, staring out at the lake, where the Giant Squid was lazing about, poking its tentacles through the surface every so often. After half an hour, Hermione stood up. "I'm going to the library," she announced. Harry and Neville elected to stay at the lake, even though Harry was all too aware of the stack of homework she had yet to finish. The professors seemed to be giving even the first years outrageous amounts of homeworks, so much so that Harry barely had time to relax, and even Hermione had been having difficulty finishing her all of the essays on time. Fifteen minutes after Hermione departed, Harry sighed and clambered to her feet.
"C'mon, Neville," she said. "Let's get started on that essay for Binns. Fifteen inches on Hagar the Horrid." Neville groaned but stood up too, and together they made their way up to the Gryffindor Common Room, which was surprisingly crowded for such a wonderful day. Even Fred and George were there, bent over a stack of books.
Harry decided to join them and brought Neville with her. "Hello there young Harry," Fred greeted, pulling the books over to make a spot for her to work while George did the same for Neville.
"What are you two plotting now?" she asked as she uncapped her ink and took out A History of Magic.
"Oh, nothing much," George said, waving his hand dismissively.
"You'll find out with everyone else," Fred added with a wink. "Although maybe a little bit before."
Harry sighed. The twins were using her more and more to help set up pranks, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she was caught. Either way, she owed them for their continued silence. The twins went back to their project, and Harry concentrated on her essay.
The next morning at practice, Harry told Fred and George about Hagrid's dragon egg. "Wicked," they breathed together.
"He said he'd tell us when it's hatching so we can come to watch," Harry said. "I'll let you know when it's happening."
"Cool," George said, smiling excitedly. Before they could continue their conversation, Oliver finished describing a new tactic to them and told them to mount , Harry slung a leg over her Nimbus and flew right out of the changing room, much to Oliver's irritation and Fred and George's amusement.
The week passed quickly, although the lessons were becoming lack-luster. Even Transfiguration wasn't as interesting as usual, and Harry found herself drifting off into her own thoughts as Professor McGonagall lectured about mammal-to-object transfigurations, something Harry had been looking forward to, even if it was only mouse-to-matchbox. She hadn't dared go that far ahead of the class with just Transfiguration Lessons for the Newfound Prodigy without Professor McGonagall's assistance, and the last time she had approached her, the transfiguration professor had looked at her oddly before saying she was too busy and reinforcing her stance of 'Don't work ahead of the class, Mr. Potter'.
March passed into April with only a few noticeable events. For one, Fred and George's birthday was marked with the ceiling in the Great Hall rearranging to form the words 'Happy Birthday to the Greatest Mischief Makers of All Time!' from clouds, revealing exactly what the twins had been working on. Tension grew between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw as their match approached, and Hagrid only came to meals once a week. The professors hadn't changed their behavior and were still rather gloomy. Even Neville was starting to notice, although Hermione didn't seem to care; as long as she was able to learn, the teachers were doing a good job. It was nearing the end of April, only a few days after Ravenclaw steamrolled Hufflepuff, putting them second for the Quidditch Cup, that Harry received a messy note at breakfast from an unobtrusive pale brown owl that lingered just long enough to make off with Harry's half-eaten slice of toast.
She read it twice, quickly. "It's from Hagrid," she whispered, passing the note over to Hermione, who in turn passed it to Neville. Both of them looked excited. When Neville passed it back to her, Harry Transfigured it into a paper dragon and floated it over to Fred. It knocked against the side of his head three times before he batted at it and realized what it was. He trapped it in his hands and looked down at it, then, grinning, passed it to George, who had a matching grin on his face only seconds later.
Harry was torn between wanting to skive off History of Magic, but Hermione downright refused to miss any class, even when Harry pointed out that Binns wouldn't notice. Harry gave in without much argument, and she and Neville sat through History of Magic, and, after that, Charms, Harry glancing out the window every three minutes trying to gauge how much time had passed by the position of the sun.
Finally, it was lunch hour, and Harry, Hermione, and Neville nearly ran down to the entrance hall and out the front doors, meeting up with Fred and George on the path that led to the greenhouses, where the twins had just come from Herbology.
"Hurry," Harry said. "We've only got this hour for lunch."
The twins grinned as the five of them ran down the lawns to Hagrid's hut, which had smoke spiraling up from its chimney. "Who needs History of Magic?" Fred said with a careless shrug.
"That's what I said!" Harry exclaimed while Hermione gave a half-hearted tsk. Harry could tell that the other girl was only pretending to be irritated, and that she really was interesting in the hatching dragon.
"Here," George said when they reached Hagrid's hut. All of the windows were closed, and the inside obscured from view with curtains. George reached out and pounded on the door.
"Jus' a mo'!" Harry heard Hagrid cry out from within. From the pumpkin patch behind the house, which at this point was more of a lettuce garden than anything else, they could hear Fang barking.
Hagrid opened the door, what little skin they could see flushed with heat and excitement. "Come on, don' dawdle," the giant urged, stepping back so the five of them could squeeze in. "Hold on, there's too many of yer." Hagrid did a quick count, then turned as stern a look Harry had ever seen on his face to her. "Why'd yer bring them?" he asked, locking the door and nodding towards Fred and George.
"I - erm - it was a secret for a secret!" Harry lied, although it wasn't completely false. "And plus, they're not going to tell. Half the things they get up to aren't half as bad as your dragon." Hagrid seemed to tune out at the words 'your dragon'.
"Fine. On yer own head be it."
The confrontation was over and Harry, Hermione, Neville, Fred, and George clustered around the table, where Hagrid had set the egg. The house was as hot as it had been last time, and soon they had divested themselves of their robes, and Fred and George had even undone the top three buttons on their shirts, which had made Hermione blush, even though it wasn't particularly noticeable as her face was already quite pink from the heat of the cabin.
"Charlie's told stories, of course," Fred said, leaning so close to the egg that Hagrid pulled him back, a protective scowl on his face.
"But I don't think even he's been so close to a hatching egg," George finished, inspecting the egg from further back.
"Nesting mothers aren't the friendliest of dragons," Fred added.
"So how'd you get the egg?" George asked.
Harry answered for Hagrid. "Won it in a pub."
George pulled a face. "Wonder how that bloke got it," he mused.
"Did yer see tha'?" Hagrid gasped.
"I did!" Hermione squealed. "The egg rocked!"
"'E's comin'!" Hagrid said gruffly.
The six of them stared avidly at the large black egg for the next five minutes. It was almost as boring as History of Magic, but the sense of expectation made it so Harry refused to look away in case she missed something. The egg shuddered, and rocked.
"There!" she and Hermione said at the same time. Neville took a step back from the table, while Fred and George watched, excitement written clearly on their faces.
A few seconds later, soft chipping sounds could be heard. Fred was the first to spot the crack. "Look, it's coming out!" he crowed, pointing at a hairline fracture between George and Harry, so fine that she had to move so that light hit it just right to be able to see it. The tapping continued for nearly a minute before it ended.
"Is somethin' wrong?" Hagrid asked, watching the egg worriedly. "It shoulda' come ou' by - "
His sentence was cut off by the egg exploding outwards, shards of the thick shell flying through the cabin. Harry only narrowly avoided a particularly jagged piece by diving into Hermione's side and knocking her to the floor.
"Sorry," she muttered, picking herself up and helping Hermione back to her feet.
"No, it's fine," Hermione said distractedly, brushing bits of dirt off her uniform and moving back to the table. Neville poked his head out from behind Hagrid's large easy chair, eyes wide.
"Wow," he said, staring at the table.
Harry turned to inspect the baby dragon. She decided it looked nothing like an adult dragon. It was scrawny, with most of its length made up by its long tail. All along its back, small nubs poked up where tall spikes would be once it grew older. Its eyes were bright orange, and its snout long, rather like a crocodiles. The leathery wings extending from either side were still wet from the embryonic fluid, and were surprisingly large for such a small creature. From snout to tail-tip, the dragon was the size of a large lizard.
"Ain' 'e beautiful?" Hagrid asked from somewhere above her. Harry snorted. The dragon was many things, but beautiful wasn't one of them.
"He's a bit - " Fred started.
" - well, wrinkled," George cut in. "Don't you think."
"All babies are wrinkled when they're born," Hermione said stiffly from where she was watching the dragon stretch its wings, eyes glued to the creature as if determined not to miss a single detail.
Harry felt Neville move to stand beside her, if slightly behind her, as she watched the dragon yawn, showing off large, black fangs. It sneezed, expelling a small gout of flame towards Hagrid's apron.
"Look!" the giant man exclaimed. "'E knows 'is mommy!"
Fred and George snickered, and Harry glanced over at Neville, who met her eyes with a bewildered look on his face.
"'Ello there, Norbert," Hagrid cooed. "I'm yer mommy." Norbert the baby dragon snapped at Hagrid's large, sausage-like fingers, earning a chuckle from the groundskeeper. "Little Norbert's hungry," he informed them proudly. "I've got some nice chick'n blood an' brandy all mixed up fer yeh." Hagrid reached into his apron pocket and pulled a dog bowl and a large flask of watery red liquid out. Neville turned green.
Harry didn't feel like watching either, and glanced over at the twins. Fred met her eyes and mouthed Norbert? Harry shrugged, and mouthed back It's Hagrid. Fred grinned and winked.
"Can we go back?" Neville whispered, resolutely not watching as Norbert attacked the bowl of chicken blood and brandy.
"Sure," Harry whispered back. "Hermione looks like she's ready to leave, too." Hermione looked as if she were wishing she was in the library rather than watching a new-born dragon drink blood.
"Thanks for letting us watch, Hagrid," Harry said loudly. Hagrid didn't seem to notice, he was so besotted with Norbert. "We'll just let ourselves out, then," Harry tried again, earning a grunt and a wave from Hagrid, which she took for assent. "Come on," she said to her four friends. "Let's go grab something to eat."
Neville looked sick at the mention of food, but picked up his robes and book bag from where they'd dumped their belongings. He was the first out the door, followed by Fred and George, who hadn't bothered to rebutton their shirts. Harry was the last out, closing the door carefully behind her. They didn't need a baby dragon rampaging through the grounds.
"Well," Hermione said once they were a fair ways back towards the castle. "That was very educational - "
Fred and George drowned her out with noises of outrage. "Educational!?"
"That was a once in a lifetime happening!"
"Even Charlie - "
"Charlie!"
" - hasn't seen something like that!"
"And he works with dragons!"
"Well," Hermione repeated, huffily this time. "It was educational. You can't read about things like that in a book." An eerie silence followed her words while Harry, Fred, George, and Neville stopped walking and stared at her. Hermione realized they had stopped and turned around, blushing. "Well, you can't!"
"Did you hear that, Fred?" George said, turning to his twin.
"I know," Fred said, eyes wide.
"Hermione just admitted - "
" - that books aren't always right!"
Harry was having difficulty controlling her laughter, and Neville had lost his greenish tinge.
"I didn't say that!" Hermione protested as they all started walking again. "I just said - I only meant that some things you have to see for yourself!"
"Of course, Hermione," George said, a fox-like grin on his face. "Whatever you say."
"You're impossible," Hermione muttered before stomping up the stairs and through the front doors. "I'll see you later, Harry, Neville!" she called as she walked right past the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. "I'm going to class!"
"Was it something I said?" George asked, grinning unrepentantly as the four of them found spots at the Gryffindor table, ignoring how the second years they sat by scooted away from them.
Fred poached the chicken sandwich Harry had just placed on her plate, forcing her to grab another. She bit into it before George could get the same idea.
"I think she's just flustered she admitted that books can't teach everything," Harry said quietly. "And you two shouldn't make fun of her for it."
Fred looked at her. "Alright," he said easily. "We won't."
George made a noise of agreement from around his mouthful of food.
Harry and Neville spent the rest of lunch keeping Fred and George from stealing food off their plates, and went up to the Common Room for their free period afterwards. Hermione was in class with the rest of the first year girls. Harry had never been so glad to have escaped; to her eyes, it was just extra homework - homework she didn't have time to do with all the Quidditch practices Wood was scheduling.
April 25
Dear Alex,
You won't believe it. Yesterday, Hagrid (that's the groundskeeper in case you forgot) sent us a note.
We'd found out about a week and a half ago that he'd somehow managed to get a dragon egg! It
hatched! Norwegian Ridgeback. I've never seen anything so interesting, although baby dragons really
aren't very pretty. Neville said that his Gran says that a dragon hatching is one of the Seven Natural
Wonders of the Wizarding World. I can't imagine why. Hagrid is absolutely besotted, and has named
it Norbert.
Wood is going insane, I think. You wouldn't believe how obsessed he is. I have Quidditch every morning
at 5, so this summer I am going to sleep in every day. Nothing else really interesting has happened
here lately. All of the teachers got sick at the beginning of February, but none of the students got it.
Even Madam Pomfrey was ill. Have you heard from Remus lately?
Love,
Harry
April 27
Harry -
You actually got to see a dragon hatch!? That's so cool! Now I really wish I could have gone to
Hogwarts, too. Although you seem happier this way, so maybe it's not so bad. Plus, I wouldn't have
met Rémi and Jonah and Simon if I had. And I'd have to deal with Snape, which sounds like an
absolute nightmare. He deserved to get sick. I haven't heard from Remus either.
The snow has finally melted, although it's still really cold. I'm thinking that's the main reason girls wear
trousers - they'd have blue legs all the time if they didn't. See you in a few months.
- Alex
April 29
Dear Remus,
How are you? I haven't heard from you in a while. Or Dad, but he's always working. School has been
interesting lately. If you promise not to tell, I'll tell you why this summer. But I can tell you that all of the
teachers got sick at the beginning of February. It was very relaxing, actually, since we only had a few
classes a week for two weeks there. And we didn't have potions for either of the weeks, since the
matron got sick and the potions professor had to cover for her.
Spring may have come early to Britain, but the snow finally melted up here at Asclepius last week. It's
still cold enough to freeze my toes off, and I can only thank the founders of the school or whoever
decided to make the girl's uniform the same as the boys. If they hadn't, I think I would have had to have
my legs amputated from frostbite. Which is a bit Muggle and slightly exaggerated, but you get the point.
Write back soon.
Love,
Harry
May 2
Dear Harry,
I am very sorry for such a long silence. I was actually out of country, acquiring rare books for the bookstore.
It was quite interesting, actually, but the dearth of owls made it lonely. I spent most of the trip in Asia - mainly
China and Japan - before heading across the Pacific to South America for some old Inca drawings. I don't
know why the bookstore wants them - the chances of selling them are very slim. After that it was just a quick
stop in Egypt for some manuscripts, although I ran into the Wizarding Market of Cairo for a couple of trinkets
for Albus Dumbledore.
I worked quite closely with Bill Weasley while in Africa. I am assuming he is the older brother of some of Alex's
friends, but I'll have to ask in my letter.
Being in Egypt reminded me a bit of Lily. She always wanted to travel abroad, but she and James delayed their
honeymoon - they were planning on hopping from Switzerland to Ethiopia to Thailand - because of the war.
James, in particular, was looking forward to taking her to Thailand. Something about the color of her hair.
You asked for more stories about your mum and dad, so I'll tell you about how Lily once stuck James to the
ceiling of the common room. It happened in the beginning of sixth year, shortly after Lily ended her friendship
with one of her oldest friends. James thought it was the perfect chance, and asked her to Hogsmeade. Apparently,
it was one too many times, since Lily didn't even bother with her usual 'in your dreams' or 'never' or even the
occasional 'go to hell'. She just whipped out her wand and with nary a sound James was stuck to the ceiling by
the back of his robes. Only, they weren't exactly tied, so he just slipped out and fell. Sirius managed to make sure
no one got hurt, but James landed on Lily. I don't think I've ever seen her so mad. She kneed him where it hurts
and stormed up the girl's staircase, with James stammering apologies after her. Then he looks at us, looks at the
rest of the people in the common room, and says, "Thanks for the advice, Padfoot." He didn't speak to Sirius for
a week after that, and I think that was the last time he ever took dating advice from him.
If you want to know anything specific, just ask.
As always,
Love,
Remus