Hey! Not much to say this time. Here is chapter 8. Just two more after this.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, buy my OC. I'm just playing puppetmaster.
Chapter 8
Needless to say, that after the whole fiasco with the Firebolt, Ron and Harry were pissed with Hermione and irritated with me for agreeing with what she did. Hermione tended to avoid the common room for a while and Harry and Ron avoided her. The two would only talk to me occasionally out of necessity. With this reprieve in social activity, I had finally finished my book and decided to make good with my Christmas gift. I decided to write down everything that has happened to me from as far back as I could remember. I had to admit that using a pen beat out a quill anytime, and was less of a nuisance.
This pattern of avoidance continued until after New Year's and the rest of the school returning, making the common room unpleasantly loud and crowded again. Wood immediately cornered Harry and tried to address his dementor problem. Once he explained that Lupin was going to teach him how to repel dementors, he backed off. He then addressed his lack of a broom and then started acting like a crazed fan girl when Ron told him that Harry had gotten a Firebolt for Christmas. He dismayed when he was told McGonagall took it away to be tested and swore to Harry that he would "set her straight" before taking off. I looked up from my notebook to address him.
"Wood is under the mistaken impression that what he says will matter," I told Ron and Harry from the chair I was currently in.
I received a set of glares for my trouble.
Classes had started the next day. I was unfortunate enough to have Divination and History of Magic on the first day back. I had History of Magic last and after it had mercifully ended, I went to meet up with the trio who just had Defense Against the Dark Arts and were heading to the Great Hall for dinner. I found them discussing Professor Lupin.
"Still looks ill, doesn't he?" Ron asked as I caught up with Hermione, who was walking behind them. "What do you reckon is the matter with him?"
From next to me, Hermione made an impatient noise. Ron immediately rounded on her.
"And what are you 'tutting' at us for?" Ron asked in an irritated tone.
"It's nothing," she defended.
"It was not nothing," Ron stated, "I was wondering what was wrong with Lupin and you—"
"Well isn't it obvious," she interrupted and made me raise an eyebrow.
Obviously she had figured out Lupin's secret and was upset that the other two hadn't figured it out yet.
"Well if you know what's wrong then tell us," Ron demanded.
"Forget it," Hermione huffed and made to storm off.
Before she could get too far I decided to send a message.
"Did anyone else notice the full moon during Christmas," I told them, resulting in two bewildered looks and one of pure shock. "I thought it was nice that it appeared on a clear night."
"What does that have to do with anything?" Harry asked me.
"Nothing," I replied. "Just felt that the tension needed diffusing, and what better than a random comment to make me look crazy and get a laugh."
They just continued their odd staring. I faked a sigh and walked ahead of them. Hermione was the first to gather her wits and followed me.
"You know?" she whispered to me when she caught up.
"Yeah," I replied, "Snape wanted to get people to figure it out. Don't give him the satisfaction of knowing he succeeded."
She stayed quiet as she walked faster and pulled ahead of me.
That night Harry had his first lesson in repelling dementors. When he returned to the common room he told Ron and I about it with Hermione listening from behind her books. The animosity between Ron and Hermione hadn't abated since the Firebolt incident and the quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw was quickly approaching. It had been weeks since Christmas and Harry and Ron continued to pester McGonagall about the broom. She eventually got irritated and told him to wait until she brought it to him if it wasn't hexed.
Other than the drama of the broomstick, Ron was still baffled as to how Hermione was getting to all of her classes and she was not saying a word about it. When she wasn't foiling Ron's efforts to figuring out her attendance, she was studying and asking Harry about his lessons with Lupin. Harry had told us that his lessons weren't faring well, but he said that Lupin attributed it to the fact that learning how to produce a patronus was difficult for even a full grown wizard to accomplish.
February had come and there had been little movement by the Heartless. I was on my way back to Gryffindor tower after a meeting with Dumbledore. I had reached the seventh floor when I saw Harry, Ron, and Neville talking at the portrait of Sir Cadogan. I walked up in time to hear that Neville had forgotten the password again and he lost his paper with the passwords written on them. It was common knowledge that Neville had a penchant for not remembering the passwords, and it did not help that Sir. Cadogan had a habit of changing the passwords constantly.
"Oddsbodikins," Harry said as I walked up to them.
I noticed that in his hands was his Firebolt.
"McGonagall gave it back then?" I asked as we walked into the common room.
He only had time to confirm what I had asked before he was bombarded with people that wanted to gawk at his new broomstick. While Ron and Harry were focusing on appeasing the masses, I strode over to where Hermione was sitting hunched over her work and I sat down beside her to wait for the crowd to disperse. She gave me a look telling me she recognized my presence. It was then that I noticed that she looked just as haggard and tired as Lupin does normally.
"Don't you think you should drop a class or two?" I asked.
She looked at me and had an expression that looked like I just slapped her in the face.
"No," she replied, "why would you suggest something so preposterous?"
In response I only point at her neck where a sliver of a golden chain can be seen. She follows my cue and gasps before adjusting her uniform to better hide the Timeturner she has concealed around her neck. She opened her mouth to speak but I beat her to it.
"Don't ask me how I know because I am not going to tell you," I told her. "I know it is none of my business and that you want to learn as much as you can, but is it worth spreading yourself thin enough that you have to have to turn back time?"
"I'm perfectly alright," she huffs, with the most miniscule amount of uncertainty before going back to her books.
About ten minutes later, Harry and Ron had shown the Firebolt to almost everyone in the common room, so the sea of people had parted revealing where Hermione and I were. They slowly made their way to us and stood in front of Hermione. She looked up.
"I got it back," Harry stated, holding up the Firebolt with a grin.
"See, Hermione?" Ron picked up. "There was nothing wrong with it."
"Well-There might have been," she retorted with a glare directed at Ron. "At least you know that it is safe now!"
"I suppose so," Harry conceded. "I should take this upstairs."
"I'll do it," Ron said vehemently, "I need to give Scabbers his tonic anyway."
Ron took the Firebolt and cradled it to him as if he were holding some glass antiquity, and headed off to their dorm.
"Can I sit here then?" Harry asked.
"Yeah," she replied as she cleared what books she had on the chair, allowing him to take the seat.
As he sat his eyes wandered to the myriad of assignments and materials on the table in front of us.
"How are you getting through all this stuff?" he asked her.
"Oh, well-working hard, you know?" said Hermione.
"Have you considered dropping a few subjects?" he asked her.
She glared at me when I let a smirk appear on my face and turned to him.
"I couldn't do that!" she grumbled, annoyed.
For the most part, Harry ignored that and reached for one of her Arithmancy charts.
"Arithmancy looks terrible," he assumed.
"Oh no," she refuted, "it's wonderful; it's my favorite subject."
We never got to find out why Arithmancy was so wonderful because before she could open her mouth again, we heard a strangled yell from the dorms. Seconds later, Ron came charging down the stairs, with a bed sheet dragging behind him.
"Look!" he shouted, shoving the sheet in her face. "Look!"
"Ron, what-?"
"Scabbers! Look! Scabbers!" he yelled.
Hermione looked baffled and a little bit scared as she leaned back from him. I stood and looked at the sheet he was holding and saw what was, most definitely, blood stains. Not only that, but mixed in with the blood and spread throughout the sheet were unmistakable ginger cat hairs.
"Blood!" he screamed, echoing through the now deadly silent common room. "He's gone! And you know what was on the floor?"
"N-no," she squeaked.
As a response, Ron threw something down on Hermione's rune translations. The three of us got closer and saw that on the spiky shapes were more ginger cat hairs.
Ron and Hermione's friendship appeared to have ended. The loss of Scabbers created a fissure that appeared to be irreparable. Ron was still angry at Hermione for never taking Crookshanks' desire to eat Scabbers seriously. She only made it worse when she suggested that he look for him under the other boys' beds. If that wasn't enough, she got angry at him because he assumed that Crookshanks ate Scabbers and that he had no proof to confirm it. She described how Ron was prejudiced against Crookshanks from the day he jumped on his head in the Magical Menagerie.
Harry had made it clear that he felt that Crookshanks did eat Scabbers, and he told her that all the evidence points to the conclusion that he did. She ended up losing her temper with Harry as well.
"Okay, side with Ron, I knew you would!" she screeched. "First the Firebolt, now Scabbers, everything's my fault, isn't it! Just leave me alone Harry, I have a lot of work to do!"
I personally had no idea what to think. I knew that the ugly cat had had it out for Scabbers, but that situation had always been strange to me. Something is happening here and I haven't yet found out what.
Ron had not been faring well. Like Harry had predicted, Ron had been devastated by the loss of his pet. His brothers had not made it any easier.
"Come on, Ron, you were always complaining about how useless Scabbers was," Fred told him. "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!" Ginny exclaimed, giving him a look that I could only describe as a death glare.
"All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself," George said
"He bit Goyle for us once!" Ron defended. "Remember Harry?"
"That is true," Harry told Ginny, George, Fred, and I.
"His finest hour," said Fred, not even close to keeping a straight face. "Let the scar on Goyle's finger stand as a lasting testament to his memory. Come on, Ron, get yourself to Hogsmeade and buy yourself a new rat."
Even I found Fred's comment to have a lack of tact, and I'm, literally, heartless.
Getting desperate, Harry offered to let Ron watch the last quidditch practice before the match this weekend. Ron seemed to brighten a little at this and asked if he could shoot a few goals with his broom. He reminded me of a little boy at the time. Eventually they left to go to practice, I elected to stay behind.
That night Harry and Ron had come back some time after the rest of the team. When they came back in Ron was very noticeably cheerier. They told me about how easily Harry was able to handle the broom and about how he effortlessly caught the snitch multiple times. Then Ron had a chance at riding and apparently had the time of his life. However, on their way back, they told me they ran into Crookshanks while he was lurking around the grounds. Ron then complained about how Hermione was still letting him run around without some sort of supervision.
I had been about to go to bed when Harry stopped me.
"Hey, Gnocx," he called.
I turned around and faced him and Ron.
"Yes," I said with a raised eyebrow.
"You're strong, right?" he asked.
"I would like to believe so," I replied, honestly perplexed as to why he would ask something. "Why?"
Judging by the look on Ron's face, he was just as confused.
"Do you think you could fight dementors?" he asked.
It then started making sense.
"They are not going to show up at the match again Harry," I told him. "Even if they did I assume I would be able to fight them off if they don't affect me again like the one did on the train. Although I can assure you if they do, I can't do anything without revealing myself, so you would have to rely on Dumbledore."
Harry seemed to relax a little after I told him this and Ron gave him a sympathetic look. Having nothing more to say I went to bed.
I woke up the next morning early enough to catch Harry walking out of the common room surrounded by a group of boys. Apparently they felt as though the new broom needed guarding. I followed them while making sure to not become one of the faces in the crowd. We reached the Great Hall and the Gryffindors enjoyed the looks of shock given from the Slytherin team.
I took a seat and watched as Wood made Harry set the Firebolt on the table and positioned it as if it was a precious exhibit in a museum. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs swarmed over to join in the gawking. Cedric Diggory came over and congratulated Harry on the excellent replacement for his Nimbus, while Penelope Clearwater, Percy's girlfriend from Ravenclaw, asked to hold it.
"Now, Penny, no sabotage!" Percy said while she was examining it. "She and I have got a ten galleon bet on the outcome of the match."
Penelope then took her leave after setting the Firebolt back down and thanking Harry. Once she left, Percy then hastily whispered something in Harry's ear before going to join her.
"Sure you can handle that broom, Potter?" a familiar drawling voice asked.
Sure enough, Malfoy and two goons showed up to get a closer look.
"Yeah, I reckon so," Harry replied.
"Comes with plenty of special features, doesn't it?" he asked, eyes glittering malevolently. "Like a parachute, in case you get near a dementor."
Crabbe and Goyle sniggered at this, while Wood and Ron glared at them.
"Pity you couldn't put an extra arm on yours," Harry replied, "then it could catch the snitch for you."
I was impressed at his quick thinking with the insults and I told him as much while the Gryffindor team and Ron had started laughing hysterically. Malfoy just narrowed his eyes and went away.
They left for the pitch at a quarter to eleven and I made my way to the stands. Eventually the teams made their way out to the field and then the match began. McGonagall had to chastise Lee Jordan more than once for making his commentary an advertisement for the Firebolt. On the field Harry had been looking for the snitch while the Ravenclaw seeker, Cho Chang, was tailing him. He quickly got rid of her by accelerating across the field and around the Ravenclaw goal posts. Then all of a sudden he took a dive toward the ground. I looked down and saw that he had seen the snitch. Cho Chang must have caught on because she dived after him.
Then one of the beaters from the Ravenclaw team had hit a bludger that Harry managed to avoid, however, he lost the snitch. In retaliation, George Weasley hit a bludger directly toward the beater responsible.
Gryffindor was leading eighty points to zero, and McGonagall was yelling some more at Jordan for his constant advertising.
Harry had seen the snitch again, circling the Gryffindor goal posts. He flew toward them, but was blocked by Cho Chang. He was hesitant in doing anything to oppose her. My guess is because he felt she was attractive.
Idiot teenagers, was the thought going through my head as I saw that he had lost the snitch once again. He then pulled up and went high enough so that he was about 20 feet above the match. Cho, who had obviously wanted to tail him instead of looking for the snitch herself, followed. Harry then did something that impressed me and he took a dive only to pull up when she did, sending her hurtling downward and away from him, so he could look for the snitch again.
Harry then took off toward the Ravenclaw end. I assumed that he saw the snitch again, and then Ron, who was next to me, grabbed my arm.
"Gnocx, look!" he yelled while pointing down to the ground of the pitch.
My eyes widened when I saw three dementors striding onto the field. I immediately put a hand on my head, preparing for the impending migraine. However, it never came and I relaxed when I saw something odd.
"Since when do dementors have legs?" I asked Ron.
"They don't," he replied as he looked up at me, confused.
I pointed back to them and saw that a large silver mass came out of Harry's wand and had made its way to the 'dementors' and knocked them off their feet. No one seemed to care, however, because the Gryffindors were all cheering at Harry, who was now engulfed in a massive group hug in midair as he was surrounded by his team. Once they touched down they were surrounded by the spectators, and Ron held up his arm, shouting affirmatives in victory.
Lupin had made his way behind Harry and whispered in his ear. Harry then turned around to see the haggard looking professor.
"The dementors didn't affect me at all," Harry said ecstatically, "I didn't feel a thing."
"That's because they weren't dementors," I said, bringing myself closer to Harry, Ron, and Lupin.
"What?" Harry asked me.
"Come and see," Lupin said, grabbing his arm and leading him out of the crowd.
Ron and I followed, pushing our way through the spectators and came out of the crowd to see McGonagall yelling at the crumpled heaps that were Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus Flint, the Slytherin quidditch captain.
"An unworthy trick!" McGonagall screeched. "A blatant attempt at sabotaging the Gryffindor seeker! Detention! And fifty points from Slytherin! Make no mistake; I will be speaking with Professor Dumbledore about this! Here he comes now!"
Ron started roaring with laughter at the Slytherin's predicament. At this time Fred and George made their way over to us.
"Come on you guys!" Fred said, slinging his arms over Harry's and Ron's shoulders. "Party in the common room, now!"
"Right," Harry said, who was obviously happier now than he had been all year.
The party in the common room was huge. It was as if the team had won the cup instead of just the match. Fred and George had disappeared for a little while then reappeared, arms filled with Honeydukes sweets, butterbeers, and a variety of other items.
"How did you get these?" Angelina Johnson, one of Gryffindor's chasers, squealed.
Fred whispered something into Harry's ear while George winked at me as he was handing me two butterbeers. Obviously the marauders helped them out. I raised one of the bottles in thanks and made my way to Hermione, who, shocker, was the only one not enjoying the festivities. I put one of the bottles on the back of her neck. She jumped and glared at me as I handed her the bottle.
"You don't have to be nice to me you know?" she told me.
"I'm aware," I said. "You should know by now that I don't pick sides in your fights."
Her look turned somewhat grateful before Harry came over.
"Did you even come to the match?" he asked her.
"Of course I did," she replied in a strangely high pitched voice, not looking up from her Muggle Studies book. "You did very well and I am glad we won, but I have to finish this by Monday.
"Why don't you come and have some food?" Harry offered while looking over at Ron.
Obviously Harry was hoping that Ron would be ready to bury the hatchet. He forgets that Ron is one to bear a grudge.
"I can't Harry, I have 472 pages left to read," she muttered. "Besides…" she looked over at Ron as well. "He doesn't want me to join in."
Then, almost as if he had heard us talking, Ron decided to make an ass out of himself.
"If Scabbers hadn't just been eaten, he could have had some of those Fudge Flies," he said a little bit too loudly. "He used to really like them-"
He didn't get any further because Hermione then burst into tears. She grabbed her book and the butterbeer I gave her, tucked them under her arm, and headed off up the stairs to the girls dorm and out of sight.
"Can't you give her a break?" Harry asked quietly.
"Nope," he replied flatly. "If she just acted as if she was sorry-but she will never admit she is wrong. She's still acting as if Scabbers has gone on vacation or something."
It was about eleven before I decided to go to bed for the night. I don't know when the party ended, but I was rudely awakened when one of the boys in my dorm decided that he thought my bed was his and jumped onto my back. He lost his balance and fell onto the floor. I just used my arms to lift myself up and looked on the ground next to me. The offender gave me an apologetic look before he shied away from me and went to his own bed. Satisfied that no one was going to wake me, I fell back to sleep.
The last thing I expected was to be woken up by a scream. I don't know at what time it happened, but there was a glass shattering scream that echoed throughout the tower. I quickly got myself up and listened. Above the scrambling of my roommates and various questions of, "What's going on?" I realized that the one screaming was Ron. I ran to the door and swung it open to see other students from the upper years coming down the stairs to investigate. As I went out onto the staircase, I heard one of the doors below me slam shut. I headed down in time to see the third year boy's dorm slam open and the five occupants head down to the common room. Ignoring the crowd behind me I looked inside the dorm. What met me was nothing short of chaos. There were lamps and various items spread on the floor, but the thing that drew the most attention from me is the slashed curtains that are hanging around Ron's bed.
I headed back out and descended the rest of the stairs to the common room where all the tower's occupants were gathering. In the common room people had started asking questions.
"What are we doing?" said one.
The only thing lighting the room had was the remnants of the fire in the fireplace. I had just come down in the middle of a conversation.
"Are you sure you weren't dreaming Ron?" asked Dean Thomas.
"I'm telling you, I saw him!" Ron insisted hysterically.
More kids had come down and were now filling into the room.
"Excellent," Fred Weasley called, "are we still going?"
"Everyone back upstairs!" Percy ordered, hurrying into the common room, pinning his Head Boy badge to his pajamas.
"Perce—Sirius Black!" Ron said faintly, "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"
That officially woke everyone up.
"Nonsense!" Percy said, obviously startled. "You had too much to eat, Ron—had a nightmare—"
"I'm telling you—" Ron tried to argue.
"Now this is enough!"
The one and only head of Gryffindor house slammed the portrait behind her as she stormed into the common room. Once inside she glared at everyone in the room.
"I am jovial that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better from you!" she scolded.
"I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!" Percy cried indignantly. "I was just telling them to go back to bed! My brother, Ron, here, had a nightmare—"
"It wasn't a nightmare!" Ron screamed. "Professor, I woke up, and Sirius Black was standing over me holding a knife!"
McGonagall just stared at him.
"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?"
"Ask him!" he shouted, pointing a shaking finger at the portrait of Sir Cadogan. "Ask him if he saw—"
Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, she pushed the portrait back open and went back out into the corridor. The whole tower listened to the ensuing conversation.
"Sir Cadogan, did you let a man into the tower just now?" she asked the night.
"Certainly, good lady!" he replied enthusiastically.
You could hear a pin drop as the silence reigned in the tower. One by one each face taking on a horrified look.
"You—you did?" she asked. "But—but the password!"
"He had 'em!" Cadogan cried proudly. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper."
She then pulled herself back through the portrait hole. Face white as a ghost and eyes radiating fury.
"Which person," she said, her voice shaking, "which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"
I had already figured it out when Cadogan mentioned a piece of paper. The conversation from earlier in the week playing in my mind, I turned to face Neville Longbottom, who had started to raise his hand as he was trembling from head to toe.
I always feel bad for poor Neville. Well, leave any comments. I don't care if they are anonymous.
