"Where did I put that damn thing?"
Hermione voiced her frustration and was shushed by Madam Pince. 'I'm sorry', she mouthed before returning to frantically digging through her bag. About to give up, she felt the offending quill graze the back of her neck.
"Can't do your homework without this, can you?" Harry whispered, as she turned and eyed the grey feather.
She flashed back to that night riding atop Buckbeak and holding onto him so tightly she thought his ribs may crack.
"Looks familiar."
He narrowed his eyes on the quill before gently placing it in her palm.