AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, has everyone enjoyed their two month holiday from reading this story? I know I have! (No, I haven't.) I decided to put this story on hold while I took a nice around-the-world holiday. (I'm totally lying.) I visited the British Isles (I wish!), Spain (yeah, right), Greece (pfff!), and even Egypt (NOT!). Man those pyramids are impressive! (They are, but I've only seen 'em in pictures and on TV and in movies.) I went interesting places (no I didn't), I saw interesting sights (didn't do that either), and I met interesting people (lies, lies, LIES!). I figured you'd all understand if I took a much needed vacation. (Which I totally didn't take.)
Okay, so the Blackhawk World Tour is a complete fabrication. I just simply could NOT get this chapter done! Please don't think I spent the last two months sitting around mindlessly wanking instead of working on this story. I agonized over this thing, and the later it became, the more I agonized! I worked on it every single day, but sometimes the work was negligible. It wasn't until recently that the writing spark came back to me and I was able to complete the chapter.
That being said, I really don't know if this will be any good. I'm not even sending it to my beta to read first because if I do, I just KNOW there will be a ton of revisions she'll suggest and I just want this dead albatross out from around my neck!! I want it away from me! I just finished typing this up in the wee hours of the morning last night an my first thought...beyond sleep...was getting this out there and posted so you people could read it. Hopefully it doesn't suck too bad...
No shout outs this time around...but if you've ever sent me a review, know that I thank you vigorously.
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters.
MIRROR, MIRROR
Chapter 6
"Reflections of You and Me"
As the memories of Second Year faded into those of Third Year, Ron found himself walking down the corridor of the Hogwarts Express alongside Neville. They were searching for an empty compartment, but they were all full except for one near the back of the train which, conveniently enough, had two seats unoccupied.
"We might as well sit in here," Neville said, reaching for the door to the compartment only to be stopped by Ron's hand grabbing his wrist in a death grip.
"Let's find something else," Ron urged, glaring through the glass partition into the compartment. Inside, on one of the bench seats was a man sitting fast asleep next to the window; next to him, already dressed in her Hogwarts robes, her nose buried in a weighty tome, sat Hermione Granger, "I don't feel like spending the next seven hours stuck in a train car with her."
Neville sighed and shook his head, "She's not that bad, Ron…maybe if you took the time to --…"
"We've been through this before, Neville," Ron said curtly, cutting across his friend.
"Fine," Neville conceded, sighing again, "But look…every other compartment is full! Where else are we going to sit?"
"Fine," Ron growled, slamming the door open and stomping into the compartment, dropping into the seat next to the window, across from the sleeping stranger.
The sound of the slamming door startled Hermione and she glared at Ron as she looked up from her book. When she saw Neville make his way into the compartment and take the seat across from her, her features softened and she smiled.
"Hello, Neville," she said sweetly, "How was your summer?"
"Oh…uh…it was good," Neville replied, feeling a little uncomfortable with the obvious tension in the compartment, "My Gran and I spent a week in Ireland, visiting an old friend of hers."
"Oh, that sounds…interesting," Hermione said, obviously lying in order to be nice, "I went on holiday to France with my parents; it was wonderful…full of wizarding history."
"That's great," Neville replied, nodding. He cast an awkward glance over at Ron who was glaring out the window at the passing scenery, as if to ignore them, "Uh…did you know Ron's family went to Egypt over the holiday…?"
"Yes, I saw that in The Daily Prophet," Hermione said, sounding as though she were trying not to sound interested. She turned to Ron, a scowl threatening to appear on her face, "How was Egypt?"
"Hot and sandy," Ron grunted, not even bothering to look back at her.
"Charming," Hermione said with a grimace, turning her attention back to Neville.
Ron was trying purposely to not look at Hermione; she was looking very tan from her holiday in France and found himself trying to remember why he hated her, while watching her reflection in the window.
Time seemed to tick by rather slowly, and Neville's mouth opened and closed as he was, apparently, grasping for something to say to break the once-again uncomfortable silence the compartment had slipped into; however, it was Ron who spoke up first.
"So, who d'you reckon he is?" Ron asked Neville, pointing at the sleeping man sitting next to Hermione. The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray.
"Professor R. J. Lupin," Hermione answered at once, even though the question wasn't aimed at her. This earned her yet another glare from Ron.
"How'd you know that?" Ron asked with more than just a wee bit of venom in his voice.
"It's on his case," she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name Professor R. J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.
"You always have to be such a know-it-all, don't you?" Ron spat hatefully. Now he remembered why he didn't like her.
"Better a know-it-all than a know-nothing, like you!" Hermione retorted, just as hatefully.
"Can't you both please just stop?!" Neville yelled, jumping to his feet and startling his two bickering friends into silence, "I know you hate each other, but there's no place else for anyone to sit – so can't you both just get along until we reach Hogwarts…please?!"
"I will if she will," Ron grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.
"Me?! You started it!" Hermione exclaimed, causing Ron to snort derisively at her.
"Does it matter who started it?" Neville looked pleadingly at Hermione.
"Fine," she said, conceding.
The compartment fell once again into an uncomfortable silence. Hermione went back to reading through her overly large book while Neville began absentmindedly stroking his toad, Trevor. Ron turned his attention back to the window and the rain-slicked scenery whizzing past them. He kept glancing over at Hermione, and when she would look up, he'd quickly glance at the sleeping professor across from him, as if he were not entirely sure what to make of him.
Hours passed, and Ron was just about to nod off when he caught a sudden flash of orange out of the corner of his eye, and it drew his attention over to where a large ball of ginger fur was unfurling itself from between Hermione's feet, moving out from under her robes that had been concealing it to this point.
"What the bloody Hell is that thing?" Ron exclaimed, pointing at the mass of nappy orange fur that leapt up onto the seat next to Hermione.
"It's a cat; what's it look like?" Hermione snapped with an annoyed huff.
"Looks more like a pig with hair," Ron said snidely, glaring at the girl as she scooped the huge feline into her arms and began stroking it affectionately. Ron reached down to the jacket pocket where his rat was securely tucked and patted it to make sure it was still there, "Just keep that bloody thing away from my rat!"
"Crookshanks will be in my dorm," Hermione said scathingly, continuing to caress her immense cat in a loving manner, "Keep that shoe-brush-of-a-rodent in your dorm and there won't be a problem."
Ron glared daggers at the girl, forgetting the affect she'd recently had on him, while once again patting the pocket where Scabbers was protectively tucked away, secure from the outside world. Hermione returned his glare, her chin raised defiantly. Silence fell over the compartment yet again as Ron and Hermione glared at each other unblinkingly.
"You don't think he'd eat a toad, do you?" Neville asked nervously, once the uncomfortably tense silence had gone on long enough. The round-faced boy pulled his toad, Trevor, closer to him as he eyed the massive cat in Hermione's arms.
"Probably," Ron said, hoping to get his friend on his side, "That cat's a bloody beast!"
"Of course he won't, Neville," Hermione countered, ignoring Ron's comment, "Crookshanks is a good kitty and he wouldn't hurt my friends' pets."
As if to prove Hermione's point for her, the great ginger cat squirmed free of her grasp and leapt across the narrow aisle to the bench-seat Ron and Neville were sharing. Completely ignoring the toad in Neville's hand, Crookshanks pounced on Ron's pocket, attempting to extricate the frightened old rat from inside.
"Crookshanks, no!!" Hermione screamed, jumping to her feet and trying to pry the cat off the angrily yelling redhead.
"Get this monster off me!!" Ron shouted, trying to push the cat away. Unfortunately, Crookshanks had set his claws securely into the material of Ron's coat and wasn't going anywhere, "He's trying to eat Scabbers! Get him off!!"
"I'm sorry!" Hermione cried, tears in her eyes as she did her best to restrain her cat from killing Ron's pet, "Crookshanks, let go!!! Please!!!"
The sounds of Crookshanks hissing and growling and the frightened squeaks of Scabbers mixed with all the yelling to form a horrible cacophony of sounds filling the train compartment. It was a wonder that Professor R. J. Lupin hadn't been awakened by the ruckus, but he continued to sleep unawares of the kerfuffle erupting around him.
It took several minutes and the combined efforts of Hermione and Ron to remove the hissing, spitting cat from the redhead's tattered, hand-me-down coat, resulting in a ripped pocket and a bloodied hand for the hot-tempered boy.
"You should have let Crookshanks eat that bloody rat," Ron grumbled to himself as he watched his young counterpart defending the traitorous Animagus, Peter Pettigrew, "If the cat finished him off, then You-Know-Who wouldn't have come back and Cedric Diggory would still be alive…"
"I'm sorry," Hermione sobbed as she pulled the howling, yowling cat away and dropped back down into her seat.
"Keep that bloody monster away from me!" Ron yelled, practically screaming at the brown-haired girl as he nursed his injured hand and clutched his rat protectively to his chest.
"I said I was sorry!" Hermione yelled back, tears falling down her cheeks, illustrating how horribly she felt about her cat's actions.
"If that thing comes near me and Scabbers again, I'll kill it!" Ron shouted, out of his mind with rage.
"He's a cat! What do you expect?!" Hermione shouted back, her eyes a mix of fear and anger.
"I expect --…hey!!"
The train came to a sudden jarring stop, nearly causing Ron and Neville – who had been cowering on the bench during the struggle with Crookshanks – to topple to the floor of the compartment.
"We've stopped!" Neville squeaked, "Why have we stopped?"
"We can't be there yet," Hermione replied, looking out the glass partition into the corridor where other students were popping their heads out of their compartments to look around, "We haven't been traveling nearly long enough."
Ron opened his mouth, about to say something snide to Hermione about her ability to state the obvious, when the lights onboard the train went out, plunging the compartment into darkness.
"Maybe the train broke down," Neville squeaked again, obviously unsettled by the sudden darkness.
"Perhaps someone should go and speak with the driver," Hermione suggested, obviously trying to maintain an air of calmness about her, despite a slight tremor in her voice revealing her fear.
Ron, meanwhile, was drawn to the world outside the window, where the rain-soaked gloom gave way to black shapes moving about the landscape towards the train, "I think someone's coming aboard the train," he gasped nervously.
Hermione stood up and moved towards the compartment door, opening it and poking her head out as she had seen other students doing before.
"There's someone moving along the corridor," she said, "They've just gone into one of the other compartments…"
There was suddenly yelling and an anguished cry from somewhere nearby. The sound sent icy fingers of fear traveling up and down his spine, and Ron couldn't help the slight tremor in his voice when he spoke.
"W-what was that?"
"Someone's screaming," Neville said, his voice high-pitched in terror.
"But who is it, I wonder; perhaps we should go see," Hermione suggested, starting to move out into the corridor. Before the brown-haired girl could leave the compartment, however, she was stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder.
"Sit down and don't move," the formerly sleeping Professor Lupin hissed as he pulled Hermione away from the door and pushed her into her seat, "Under no circumstances are any of you to leave this compartment."
There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames; they illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary.
Professor Lupin hurried into the corridor, the handheld flames illuminating his path in an eerie manner as he made his way to the compartment the train's dark intruder had entered. Despite the professor's warning, Ron, Hermione, and even Neville got up from their seats and pressed their faces against the glass partition, trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on.
Suddenly, there was an intense silvery flash, and the dark shape dashed from the compartment the professor had entered and fled from the train into the black, rainy night as fast as it possibly could. Moments later, Professor Lupin exited the compartment and began moving towards the front of the train.
"What the bloody Hell was that thing?" Ron asked no one in particular.
"I think it was a Dementor," Hermione replied on impulse, not realizing that she was answering Ron's question.
"One of the guards of Azkaban…here?" Neville said, his voice still much too high in pitch, "What would a Dementor be doing here?"
"Looking for Sirius Black," Ron replied, looking over at the frightened boy, barely making out his round face in the darkness.
"That's ridiculous," Hermione scoffed; with the immediate danger past, she seemed more than willing to fall back into her antagonistic role with Ron, "What would Sirius Black be doing on the Hogwarts Express?"
"Looking to kill Harry Potter, I imagine," Ron said, shooting her a disgruntled look, "My Dad works for the Ministry…I heard him arguing with my Mum about it…she didn't want to send us back to Hogwarts this year with an escaped madman on the loose looking to get even with the bloody Boy-Who-Lived."
"I don't get it," Neville said, his voice losing some of its squeakiness, "Why would Black want to murder Harry Potter?"
"Revenge," Ron said flatly, "Black was the right-hand-man of You-Know-Who, and when Potter destroyed him, Black didn't like it, did he? Now he's escaped Azkaban and he wants payback for Potter killing his master."
"Surely Sirius Black wouldn't come to Hogwarts in search of revenge," Hermione said, trying to sound more confident than she obviously was, "With Dumbledore there, Hogwarts is just about the safest place in all of Britain; Sirius Black would have to be completely mad to go there!"
"I reckon twelve years in Azkaban took care of that, didn't it?" Ron said, almost forgetting to add a bit of snippiness to his tone towards Hermione, "Besides, he escaped from Azkaban, and that place is said to be inescapable; who's to say he couldn't sneak into Hogwarts the same way?"
Before another word, the lights on the train came on just as suddenly as they had been extinguished, causing Ron, Neville, and Hermione to jump slightly. Almost immediately, the train began moving again, slowly at first but gradually picking up speed.
Before the three of them could continue their conversation about Sirius Black, the compartment door opened and Ginny Weasley rushed in.
"Did you hear about Harry Potter?" Ginny asked, her face flushed with excitement.
"That he's a useless sodding git that we'd all be well rid of?" Ron shot back, eyeing his sister darkly. He didn't approve of her obsession with Potter, and he'd hoped that her run-in with him last year had cured her of it.
"No," Ginny replied, her tone showing she was not amused by Ron's comments, "I was sitting in the compartment across from Harry Potter and those other Slytherins he hangs out with…"
"Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle," Ron stated matter-of-factly, eliciting a nod from Ginny, confirming that, yes, those were the Slytherins she meant.
"Well, when the lights went out, something came onboard the train…" Ginny continued, only to be cut off by Ron.
"We know all this, Ginny," Ron said, crossly, "It was a Dementor, looking for Sirius Black."
"Well, you great prat," Ginny snapped, shooting her brother an equally cross look, "Did you know that the Dementor went into Harry Potter's compartment and he started screaming and then passed out?"
"Why'd he do that?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing as if she were trying to solve a puzzle.
"Because he's a delicate little poof," Ron spat, hatefully, "He probably took one look at that Dementor, screamed like a little girl, and fainted dead away."
"I don't blame him," Neville said, almost under his breath, "I bet there's nothing scarier than a Dementor…except maybe Professor Snape."
Ron snorted a laugh at Neville's comment and was about to respond when Ginny cut him off this time.
"That Dementor was doing something to Harry, because all the other Slytherins were whimpering and carrying on," Ginny continued, "And then this man appeared and shot something silver out of his wand and made it scarper off."
"That's Professor Lupin," Hermione explained, in her best know-it-all voice, "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"And how do you know that?" Ron asked, snidely, "Surely that wasn't written on his ruddy suitcase."
"It didn't need to be; if you'd only use your brain once in a while, you'd know how I know," Hermione shot back, equally as snide to Ron as he'd been to her, "Defense Against the Dark Arts is the only teaching position at Hogwarts that is vacant year after year, therefore…"
"I must be the new D.A.D.A. teacher," Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said, with a small smile, "You really are quite clever, you know, Miss…"
"Granger," Hermione said, blushing, "Hermione Granger."
"I'll be keeping my eye on you, Miss Granger," Lupin said with a smile, "I'm sure I can expect great things from you…and from the rest of your friends."
Hermione and Ron looked to be about to correct Professor Lupin's mistake about them being friends, but he cut across them before they could.
"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes, and I told the driver to make no more unscheduled stops. Now, if you will all excuse me, I think I shall make myself useful for the remainder of our journey by patrolling the corridors…just in case."
Once the professor had left the compartment, Hermione turned excitedly to her fellow passengers…though she made a point not to look in Ron's direction.
"It looks like this year we're going to have a good Defense teacher for once!"
"He can't be too bright, though," Ron said, darkly, "If he assumed the two of us were friends."
Neville groaned, and Ginny rolled her eyes, while Hermione glared hatefully at him and crossed her arms. Crookshanks, who had been all but forgotten in the confusion made his presence known once again, meowing loudly and locking his eyes determinedly on the quivering lump in Ron's pocket.
"I know I can be a prat," Ron thought back to his own Third Year as the memory started to fade, "But even I'm not that bad! This git needs to cut Hermione a break."
As the memory of the train ride faded to black, a new one began swimming through Ron's mind. He was standing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest near a paddock set up a few minutes' walk from Hagrid's hut. The entirety of the Third Year Gryffindor class was there, as well as the Third Year Slytherins. When a herd of hippogriffs came into view in the pen, Ron recognized it as Hagrid's very first Care of Magical Creatures class.
"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them, "Beau'iful, aren' they?"
Ron cast a nervous look at Neville and the round-faced boy returned the look. The dozen horse/eagle things Hagrid had in the pen might have been somewhat beautiful, with their gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to hair, but they were still quite intimidating and somewhat scary. After all, eagles were birds of prey, and the beaks and talons on these hippogriffs were larger even than the biggest of eagles'.
"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "If yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer…"
No one seemed to want to. Not even Hermione, who seemed incredibly intrigued by the magical creatures, was brave enough to move more than a few cautious feet closer to the fence. Behind the Gryffindors, the Slytherins could be heard making snide comments not only about the creatures but about Hagrid and his suitability and qualifications for being a teacher. As usual, Draco Malfoy was the most vocal, but if Hagrid heard him, the big man pretended not to.
"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid, looking as nervous about teaching his first class as the students did about attending his first class, "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."
Ron could easily believe that a disgruntled hippogriff could end somebody. He planned to never insult one of the creatures…of course, if he could help it, he would never actually get close enough to insult one of the creatures. He gave a quick look at Hagrid and shook his head absentmindedly.
Ron's brother Charlie had been close to Hagrid, and considering Charlie's chosen profession, working with dragons, it's easy to see that he and the big, burly groundskeeper were kindred spirits. Even so, Hagrid intimidated Ron a bit, and he wanted to keep his distance. Sure, he was a nice enough bloke, but there were rumors about Hagrid that he didn't know if he should believe or not.
There was the one about Hagrid raising a dragon and letting it live somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. This was a bit hard to believe, considering that breeding and raising dragons was illegal, and Hagrid didn't seem like the kind of person to engage in illegal activities. However, at night sometimes, when he gazed out the dorm window in Gryffindor tower, Ron would swear he'd seen bursts of flame erupting into the night sky from somewhere in the forest.
There was also the fact that Hagrid had been arrested and sent to Azkaban last year. None of the staff would talk about why he'd been arrested, but the rumors amongst the student body about Hagrid being the Heir of Slytherin flew quickly around the school, only quelling once Harry Potter found the Chamber of Secrets and stopped whomever or whatever it was that was petrifying the students…Ron included.
Hagrid had been released, though, so it's obvious that whatever he'd been accused of, he didn't actually do. Of course, that didn't make the huge man, who seemed to be about twice the height and five times the width of a normal man, any less intimidating.
"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued, "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt."
There was some muttering at Hagrid's comment, and no one seemed to doubt that yes, indeed, the talons on a hippogriff would hurt.
"Right – who wants ter go first?"
The class backed farther away in answer to Hagrid's question. Even Hermione had misgivings, stepping back so fast that she stepped on Ron's foot causing him to yelp in pain and push her into Neville who stumbled a bit before steadying the both of them.
"No one?" said Hagrid, with a pleading look, "I'll have ter pick one'a yeh, then."
Hagrid furrowed his black, hairy brow and gave the class a once over, moving his beetle black eyes first over the Gryffindor group near the front before moving to the Slytherins in the back. His face dropped a bit and he shook his head slightly, looking somewhat sad. Ron looked over his shoulder to see what Hagrid's droopy look was about and found himself looking at Harry Potter joking around with Draco Malfoy.
"Poor Hagrid," Ron thought as he watched the memory pass by, "He and Harry are so close…well…in my world, anyway. Hagrid must be really disappointed to see Harry a dyed-in-the-wool Slytherin."
"How abou' you, Harry Potter?" Hagrid said, calling to the group at the very back of the Slytherin class.
There was scoffing and sniggering coming from the Gryffindors as everyone turned to face the boy Hagrid had singled out. Next to him, Draco Malfoy was scowling hatefully, and seemed to be whispering something to Harry. The bespectacled youth shook his head and faced Malfoy.
"No, I'll do it," Potter said, before glaring at the Gryffindors in front of him…especially Ron, "If I can kill a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, petting an overgrown chicken will be a piece of cake!"
The Slytherins around him began sniggering now and egging him on as he strutted towards the front, nudging Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas out of his way and fixing a stony glare at Ron and Neville before moving towards Hagrid.
The big man didn't seem to take kindly to Harry's chicken comment, but he didn't do anything more than frown a bit. Hagrid always seemed to frown when he looked at Harry Potter.
Harry ignored Hagrid and the Gryffindors and climbed over the paddock fence.
"Right then," Hagrid said, "Let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."
Hagrid unclasped one of the chains, pulled the gray hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Ron cast a glance back at Malfoy and noticed that he, surprisingly, looked worried.
"Easy now," Hagrid said quietly to Harry, "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink; hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much…"
Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring at Harry with one fierce orange eye. "Tha's it," said Hagrid, "Tha's it…now, bow."
Harry grumbled something mutinous under his breath before he gave a short, curt bow and then looked up. The hippogriff was still staring haughtily at him. It didn't move.
"Ah," said Hagrid, sounding worried, "Right…back away, now…easy does it…"
Before Harry could comply, the hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.
"Well done!" exclaimed Hagrid, ecstatic, "Right…yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"
Harry Potter moved slowly toward the hippogriff and reached out toward it. The Slytherin boy nervously patted the beak several times and the creature closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it.
The Slytherins broke into applause and catcalls, and Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle seemed to cheer the loudest. The Gryffindors, however, didn't offer any such sort of congratulations to Potter. Hagrid ignored this as he continued dealing with Harry and the hippogriff.
"Righ' then…I reckon he migh' let yeh ride him!"
"What?!" Harry exclaimed, looking particularly put-out, "I'm not going to ride that thing!"
"Lower yer voice," Hagrid urged, motioning with his hands for Harry to keep it down.
Buckbeak seemed to get riled up again as Potter started yelling, but it was obvious to all the students watching that Harry Potter was either oblivious to the danger or ambivalent to it.
"Yeh have ter keep calm or yeh'll get 'im all worked up," Hagrid said trying to warn the excitable Slytherin who seemed to be having none of it.
"How can I 'keep calm' when you're trying to get me to ride one of these monsters?" Harry shouted indignantly.
"They're not monsters!" Hermione yelled, taking a step forward. Ron and Neville both grabbed her – Neville took her upper arm and Ron nabbed her wrist – and held her in place lest she get too close to the riled-up hippogriffs. Hermione and Ron exchanged a look before both looked down at Ron's hand on her wrist and then jumped awkwardly apart.
"Mind your own business, Granger!" Harry Potter snapped, turning to aim an angry glare at the Gryffindor bookworm.
"Look out!"
The cry of warning had come from Hagrid and drew everyone's attention back to the large creature behind Harry Potter that was rearing up on its hind legs and kicking forward with the massive claws on its front legs.
Potter threw his arms up in front of him in a defensive gesture, protecting his face from the onslaught of the slashing talons. There was a horrified scream from one of the girls in the class and gasps of shock and surprise from the rest of the students as the hippogriff slashed at Potter's arms with its talons, knocking him to the ground.
"You stupid chicken…you've killed him!" Malfoy yelled, moving quickly towards the paddock fence.
Hagrid jumped between Harry Potter and Buckbeak, wrestling the hippogriff back into its leather collar as it strained to get to the Slytherin boy lying on the ground, curled up in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes.
Harry moaned in pain as he lay, holding onto his bleeding arm where a long, deep gash was visible beneath the torn sleeve of his robes.
"He's dying!" Malfoy yelled at Hagrid, "Look what you've done you great oaf!"
"Hey!" an indignant cry rose up from the ranks of the Gryffindors. Hagrid may be intimidating and have a poor sense of what is and isn't appropriate as far as pets are concerned, but he was a genuinely gentle soul and they didn't take kindly to Malfoy insulting him.
"He's not dyin'!" Hagrid said, looking down at Potter once Buckbeak had been restrained. Despite the assurance of his words, Hagrid's face had gone very white and it looked as if he wasn't quite sure what to do, "Someone help me…gotta get him outta here…"
Hagrid reached down and scooped Harry Potter up into his massive arms. Malfoy was too busy hurling insults at Hagrid to open the paddock gate for him, so Hermione ran over and did it.
"Wait 'til my father hears about this," Malfoy sneered as he followed Hagrid up the slope toward the castle, "You and Dumbledore will both be out of a job!"
Very shaken, the Care of Magical Creatures class followed behind Hagrid, Potter, and Malfoy at a walk; the Slytherins were very vocal in their condemnation of Hagrid, while the Gryffindors were equally vocal in their defense of him.
"You think Hagrid's going to be sacked for this?" Ron asked Neville on their way back to the castle.
"I hope not," Neville said, shaking his head and looking worried.
"That would be horrible," Hermione said from behind them, once again butting into a conversation that didn't involve her.
Ron turned on her and seemed about to say something hateful to her…as usual. Hermione seemed to be expecting it, too, as she lifted her chin defiantly and fixed him with a hard look. When Ron saw that she was on the verge of tears, however, he bit back his comment and simply replied, "Yeah…it would."
"Hagrid," Ron sighed as the memory started to disappear before his eyes, "That poor bloke never seems to get a break. Of course, when he sees some bloody monster and tries to get us to cuddle it instead of run from it, what does he expect is going to happen?"
A new memory sprang forth into Ron's head, and he found himself sitting in the common room of Gryffindor tower. Judging by the throng of students milling about, many of them leaving through the portrait hole talking excitedly about dinner, Ron figured the day's classes must now be over. Once he had that tidbit of information figured out, a new mystery sprung into his head: why wasn't Ron heading for dinner?
"That girl is up to something," Memory-Ron muttered under his breath as he watched Hermione Granger ascend the girls' staircase towards her dormitory, ignoring the incessant growling of his empty stomach.
"So that's why he's not going to dinner…he's taken up spying on Hermione," Ron thought as he watched his thirteen-year-old counterpart's actions.
The younger Ron sat back in one of the squashy armchairs in the common room and kept his eyes locked onto the girls' staircase. Having lived with Fred and George for the last thirteen years, Ron knew a-thing-or-two about being sneaky, and Hermione Granger was definitely being sneaky.
For the last few weeks he had seen her walking to class, usually either right in front of, or directly behind him and Neville. Then, when class began, there was no sign of her.
The first time it happened, on their very first day, during their very first class – Divination – he had thought, perhaps, she had decided to skive off the class, despite how out of character that was for a know-it-all like her.
Then, suddenly, there she was…in class…seeming to have appeared out of nowhere when nobody was looking. Ron would have just marked it down to an odd occurrence and forgotten about it if it didn't keep happening.
Divination, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, even Charms and Transfiguration; she'd pulled her disappearing/reappearing act in all of them. Odder still was that nobody but him seemed to notice; not the teachers, not the students, not even her supposed "only friend" Neville. No, the only one who seemed to be paying attention to Hermione Granger and her comings-and-goings was him.
Even today after she completely missed Charms class, no one seemed to notice that anything strange had been going on but him. She missed the Cheering Charms lesson and didn't show up for lunch, and when he returned to the tower after lunch, Hermione was sleeping at one of the tables in the common room, books piled up all around her. Something was going on.
"And why the bloody Hell are you paying such special close attention to her, you great ruddy git?" Ron pondered as he continued to play observer to his counterpart's memory, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you liked her…"
A sudden flash of orange coming down the girls' staircase drew Ron's attention. Crookshanks had just come down from his mistress' dormitory and was now making his way across the common room to the boys' stairs, unnoticed by almost everybody still in the common room.
The ginger cat hissed angrily as it stared up the stone staircase towards the dorm room in which Ron's rat, Scabbers, was currently residing. The fuzzy feline put one paw onto the boys' stairs and Ron sprang into action, frightening a group of First Years heading for the portrait hole.
"Get away from there, you bloody monster!" Ron yelled, lunging forward and grabbing a scarlet pillow off the couch. He flung the pillow at Crookshanks as hard as he could, walloping the cat and sending him dashing off towards the girls' staircase, yowling in disconcertion.
"Hey!"
Ron turned on his heel and saw Hermione crawling through the portrait hole, a bag full of books slung over her shoulder. The smile of satisfaction that lit Ron's face when he hit the cat with the pillow now faded as he saw the bushy-haired girl scowling angrily as she entered the common room, tucking some sort of necklace down the front of her robes.
"You leave Crookshanks alone!" Hermione yelled as she stomped over towards Ron, eyes blazing hatefully. The remaining Gryffindors in the tower took this opportunity to flea the common room, stampeding through the portrait hole before the battle began.
"How'd you do that?" Ron asked, amazed. His eyes were wide as he looked from Hermione to the girls' staircase and back, "I saw you go upstairs…I've been watching…you never came back down. How'd you leave the tower without me seeing you?"
The brown-haired girl's anger seemed to fade as her face flushed a deep rosy hue; she looked away from Ron and started fidgeting nervously, her hand seeming to want to grasp at the necklace she'd just hidden.
"You're…you're obviously mistaken," Hermione stammered, obviously lying, "How could I possibly be upstairs and outside the tower at the same time? Honestly, you must have fallen asleep or something and just didn't notice me leaving. Yes, that's it…you were asleep; mystery solved."
"I didn't fall asleep," Ron growled. He could tell that she was lying to him, and that made him mad, "I was watching the stairs…I didn't take my eyes off of them until your ruddy cat came down and tried sneaking up to my dorm to get at Scabbers!"
"You stay away from Crookshanks!" Hermione yelled, remembering her initial anger.
"He was on his way to eat Scabbers!" Ron shouted in defense of his pillow-assault on Crookshanks.
"And how was he going to open the door to your dorm room without hands?!" Hermione shouted back in exasperation, glowering at the boy with the, in her mind, irrational hatred of her pet cat, "Why can't you just leave him alone?"
"He wants…to eat…my rat!" Ron said, pausing dramatically after every other word for emphasis.
"He's…a…CAT!" Hermione all-but-screamed, stomping her foot for added effect.
"I don't care if he's the Muggle Queen of England," Ron roared, "Keep him away from Scabbers!"
"Fine!" Hermione shouted, stomping over and getting right up in Ron's face, standing nose-to-nose with him, speaking in a low, threatening voice, "But if you ever hit Crookshanks again, I'm going to hex you into next week!"
Watching the fire flare in Hermione's eyes, and having her so close to his thirteen-year-old counterpart, Ron found himself enthralled. The only positive thing about these fights he had with Hermione was being able to watch her get so worked up and to watch her smolder. It made him miss his world and his world's Hermione all the more.
This world's Ron seemed speechless, either from Hermione's threat or simply from her proximity. Whatever the reason, he had no reply for her, so she turned on her heel and stormed off up the steps to the girls' dorms, snatching her cat up off the floor and hugging him tightly as she went.
Watching her go, it was several moments before Ron realized that the argument about Crookshanks had completely distracted him from his original purpose: learning the truth about Hermione's disappearing act. Hearing the sound of her dormitory door slamming shut, Ron shook himself out of his reverie and vowed to get to the bottom of this mystery, one way or another.
"The Time-Turner," Ron thought as the memory began to fade, "How is it I'm always the only one who notices when something's going on with Hermione? Even in this bloody world…?"
The fading memory shifted, though the location remained the same, inside the Gryffindor common room.
"Oi, Weasley! Did you hear about your man Potter?"
"I already heard about him passing out in front of the Dementors on the way to Hogsmeade, if that's what you're talking about," Ron said, turning to look at Seamus Finnegan. Ron was in the middle of a game of wizard's chess with Neville when their roommate came through the portrait hole.
"I heard about that, too," Seamus laughed, shaking his head, "But this is about what happened with that hippogriff."
"Hagrid's not getting sacked is he?" Neville asked worriedly.
Ron and Neville…and some other interested Gryffindors who were listening in…looked expectantly at Seamus. The young Irishman shook his head.
"Apparently Potter got Malfoy's father to raise a stink with the board of governors about him being 'attacked' by what's-his-feathers and they got the Ministry to order the poor beast executed."
"How'd you find this out?" Ron asked, understandably curious.
"Granger was helping me with my Transfiguration essay in the library when Hagrid sent her an owl telling her all about it," Seamus explained as he dropped lazily into a squashy chair, "Once she read the note, she was too worked up to help me, so I left while she went off in search of Malfoy and Potter. Last I saw, she found them down on the Third Floor and was giving them a right vicious screaming-to."
"And you just left here there…alone?!" Ron asked, looking absolutely incredulous.
"I told her to leave well enough alone," Seamus said, shrugging, "But you know stubborn Granger is; she ignored me. What was I supposed to do?"
"You weren't supposed to just abandon her in front of a bunch of bloody Slytherins," Ron yelled, getting red in the face, "They're capable of anything!"
"Hark at you," Seamus scoffed, "We are talking about the same person, yeah? Don't you hate Hermione Granger?"
"Seamus, you idiot!" Ron cursed his counterpart's roommate as he looked on helplessly.
Ron's face was red again, though this time it was from embarrassment, not anger, "Whether I like her or not, she's still a Gryffindor and Potter and Malfoy are still a couple of wankers who can't be trusted."
"She'll be okay, right?" Neville asked, his concern for Hermione clearly displayed across his face, "I mean, Slytherins are a bunch of slimy gits but they wouldn't hurt her, right?"
"I don't know, mate," Ron said, shaking his head as they left the common room through the portrait hole and hurried down the stairs, "You know how Malfoy hates Muggleborns…"
The two friends grew quiet as they rushed down the stairs, intent on reaching the Library before something unfortunate happened to their fellow Gryffindor. The reached the Third Floor landing and could hear shouting as they hurried down the corridor leading to the Library, hoping to reach the disturbance before it was too late.
"You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!" Hermione yelled as Ron and Neville rounded the corner. She reached back and punched Malfoy square in the nose, "Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic!! Buckbeak is a poor, innocent creature and your father got him sentenced to death!"
Ron and Neville stopped dead in their tracks, mouths gaping wide open, unable to believe that they had just witnessed Hermione Granger…paragon of following the rules…punching Draco Malfoy for all she was worth. Malfoy covered his face and backed against the wall, cowering before the frizzy-haired girl for a brief moment before shooting her a hateful sneer.
"Hit him again!" Ron cheered, moving in for a closer look.
Neville was right behind him, and while he, too, was glad to see her wallop Malfoy, he was less enthusiastic than Ron and much more wary of the other Slytherins standing there, no doubt ready to exact revenge for Malfoy's discomfort.
"Get out of here, Weasley…you too, Longbottom," Harry Potter yelled, pulling out his wand and stepping forward menacingly, "This is none of your business."
"Granger's a Gryffindor, Potter…that makes it our business," Ron replied coldly, pulling his own wand and facing off against the bespectacled Slytherin, "I suggest you run back to your dungeons before something bad happens to you."
Hermione and Malfoy seemed to have been forgotten by the five other boys as Potter, Crabbe, and Goyle squared off against Ron…and by default…Neville.
"I think it's going to be you that something bad happens to, Weasley," Potter threatened, his tone just as coldhearted as his gaze, "Just like last year."
Crabbe and Goyle chuckled at Harry's threat towards Ron and they cracked their knuckles in a fashion they must have thought was menacing in order to add emphasis to the dark-haired boy's words.
"I'm not afraid of you or your goons, Potter," Ron said, his voice full of hate, "So save your threats for the ickle Firsties you like to bully."
"Heard you had a visitor recently, Weasley," Potter said, grinning evilly, "You must really be Sirius Black's type for him to risk paying you a visit in bed." Crabbe and Goyle laughed heartily at the implications in Harry's words.
"Did Harry just call me a poof?!" Ron asked himself incredulously as he watched the memory play out.
Ron bristled at the implied meaning, gritting his teeth, "Maybe he was looking for you, Potter…maybe Black figured anybody who could run off You-Know-Who at the tender age of one was a lock to be a Gryffindor instead of a dungeon-crawling Slytherin. 'Course, if he heard about the way the Dementors make you faint like a little old witch with the vapors, I reckon he'd realize he was mistaken about you having a Gryffindor's courage."
"You really believe that you Gryffindors are better than us Slytherins?" Harry replied, getting into Ron's face…or, rather, attempting to get into Ron's face, since the redheaded boy was several inches taller than him, "Even though Slytherin won the Quidditch and House Cups for the last two years? And it was a Slytherin…namely me…who saved the entire school…twice. I certainly don't recall seeing any of you underneath the Third Floor battling the Dark Lord or down in the Chamber of Secrets taking on the Basilisk!"
"And it's a Slytherin…namely you…who put everyone in this school in danger from Sirius Black," Ron answered back acidly, "Dumbledore never should've let you come back this year. All you do is attract trouble and put those around you in danger."
"Considering the danger I put everyone in," Harry responded coldly, "You might want to mind your tone. You've no idea what I'm capable of."
Ron looked down at Harry, glaring darkly, "You can't intimidate me, Scar-Head, I know exactly what you're --…"
"OW!! Get off me!"
The pained cry from behind them cut Ron off mid-sentence and drew everyone's attention back to Hermione and Malfoy, where the blonde-haired boy had a death-grip on the bushy brunette's wrist, looking about read to hex her into oblivion.
"This will teach you to lay your hands on me, you filthy little Mudblood!"
"Oi! Get off her, Malfoy!" Ron yelled, pushing past Harry.
"Leave me alone!" Hermione screamed, looking over her shoulder at Ron, "I don't need your help!" Ron gaped at her, unable to believe the words coming out of her mouth; he had gone to the trouble of coming to her aid despite their hatefulness towards each other, and this was her reaction?
"You here the Mudblood, Weaselbee," Malfoy drawled with a smirk, "She doesn't want your help…probably afraid poverty is contagious. So why don't you and Lardbottom just run along already?"
Ron made to lunge forward at Malfoy, but he immediately found himself restrained by the gorilla-like arms of Crabbe and Goyle. He looked over his shoulder and saw Potter holding Neville with his wand pressed against his neck uncomfortably hard.
"I think it's time we taught these Gryffindors to respect their betters…what do you think, Harry?" Malfoy laughed when he saw that he and his friends now had the upper hand.
Harry didn't have time to answer, however, as a new voice cut in causing Malfoy to look particularly disgruntled while causing Ron to breathe a sigh of relief…not that he had been worried.
"I think it's time to break apart whatever this is I've happened upon before I'm forced to hand out detentions and deduct House points," Professor Lupin said in a very grave tone as he came around the corner looking more haggard than usual, "I can't imagine Professor Snape would be very happy to learn that half the Third Year Slytherin class had all wound up in detention with me."
"They started it when Granger attacked Draco," Harry complained, his green eyes flashing angrily, "We were just defending ourselves!"
"That may well be the case, Harry," the D.A.D.A. instructor replied, and odd far-away look in his eye, "But what I see are you and your friends holding Hermione, Ron, and Neville here at wandpoint…and unfortunately, we are often judged on appearances."
The seven students, despite their enmity and the conflict at hand, shared a confused look. Professor Lupin's words seemed to have some sort of deeper meaning judging by his wistful expression. Of course, none of them were privy to what that meaning might be.
"It's time to break this up, Harry. I'm sure you and your friends don't want to get into trouble. I believe using magic in the halls and especially unauthorized dueling amongst the students is strictly forbidden and could result in suspension or even worse."
"This Mudblood will see 'worse' the next time I catch her alone," Malfoy threatened, practically spitting the word 'Mudblood'. He let go of Hermione, but not before shoving her into the wall…hard, "Consider yourself warned, Mudblood!!"
"You shut your mouth, Malfoy!!" Ron yelled, struggling to break free of Crabbe and Goyle. Whether he liked Hermione or not, Ron was raised to despise the word 'Mudblood' and he would always rail against anybody who chose to use such a hateful word.
"ENOUGH!!" Lupin yelled. He had the tip of his wand pointed at his own neck, and his voice came out like thunder. Everyone seemed to be startled into silence by the sound, which must have been the desired effect, because he then removed his wand from his neck, returning his voice to normal, "Draco, you would do well to learn a little bit of tolerance as not everyone in this world is a Pureblood…not even in Slytherin."
When he said this, Lupin looked pointedly at Harry, but Malfoy and his goons were too busy making disgruntled protests of such 'slander' that they didn't notice. Ron noticed, however, and his lips curled up in a smirk worthy of Malfoy. No doubt Malfoy would be scandalized to learn that his best mate, Harry Potter, wasn't a Pureblood like he was.
Before Ron could mention Harry's lack of blood purity, however, Professor Lupin turned in his direction with an expression on his face that was sterner as any he had seen from the rather easygoing, much-liked teacher.
"And you, Ron, would do well not to let Draco get to you. Distasteful as it is…and you'll forgive me for saying it, Hermione…'Mudblood' is just a word, and words – provided they're not spell incantations – cannot hurt you."
Unwilling to broach any arguments being made by either group, Professor Lupin shooed away the two warring factions, sending the Slytherins off toward their dungeons and sending the Gryffindors up to their tower.
Before they were completely out of earshot, however, Ron could have sworn her heard Professor Lupin muttering to himself in a defeated sort of sad, quiet voice.
"I had hoped he'd be more like James and Lily…but I suppose ten years with those Muggles and two years with the Slytherins have ruined that chance…"
Ron turned to ask Professor Lupin a question about what he'd just said, but the ragged-looking teacher shambled off before he could.
"Poor Lupin," Ron thought as the memory shifted into a kaleidoscope of colors, "Seeing Harry like that must break his heart."
The swirling mix of colors gave way to a new memory; this one taking place on the castle grounds on a day closing in on summer, judging by the heat.
"Well, that's one more exam out of the way," Ron sighed as he and Neville made their way up to the castle from the greenhouses.
"Could you believe how easy it was?" Neville asked with a proud smile shining on his round face.
Ron scowled at his friend as they made their way back from the Herbology final. Neville may have found it easy seeing as he had somehow become some sort of plant genius recently, but to Ron it was just one more class he really didn't care about.
"We all know you aced the final, Nev," Ron said, trying not to sound bitter that his best friend was pulling straight O's in Herbology while he, himself, was lucky to squeak by with an A average for the class, "No need to rub it in."
"Exams wouldn't be so difficult for you if you'd study more."
Ron stopped in his tracks at the sound of the voice behind him. Neville heaved a weary sigh at the sight of the angry expression on Ron's face as he turned to face the source of the voice.
"Hermione…" Neville whined, rolling his eyes as he, too, turned around.
"I don't recall asking your opinion of my study habits," Ron hissed, "Not everybody wants to spend all their free-time studying and revising for exams."
"Try any of your free-time," Hermione scoffed pointedly, pushing past Ron and Neville and making her way up the front steps to the imposing double doors leading into the castle.
"Hermione, why do you always have to start with Ron?" Neville asked, running to catch up with his friend before she disappeared inside the castle.
"Why does he always have to make it seem like getting good grades is a sin?" she asked, her voice unusually high and a tad bit hysterical.
"He didn't --…"
"Don't defend him, Neville!!" she screamed, railing angrily at the round-faced boy, "You're doing really well in Herbology and instead of being proud of you for all your hard work he belittles you and whines about class being tough! If he just put in a little effort --…"
"You're completely mental, do you know that?" Ron yelled, stomping up the steps to face the bushy-haired girl, "I wasn't even talking to you and you start screeching at me!"
"I did not SCREECH!!" Hermione screeched, looking as though tears were about to fall from her eyes.
Ron and Neville shared a nervous glance. This wasn't normal behavior for Hermione even at the worst of times when she and Ron were going at each other full tilt. She didn't look good, either. Her hair was frizzier than usual, her face was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes and her eyes, which were usually bright and inquisitive, were now dull and moved about frantically as she looked back and forth between the two boys.
"Hermione, calm down," Neville said as he placed a hand on her shoulder. He was trying to be soothing but Hermione was having none of it.
"Don't patronize me, Neville!" Hermione yelled, shrugging off his hand as angry tears started to form at the corners of her eyes, "I swear to God or Merlin or whomever it is we're supposed to deify, I'll hex you!"
Ron gaped incredulously at the girl who appeared to be having a mental breakdown right before his very eyes. He knew there was something going on with her…he'd been watching her all year, after all…and while no one else believed him, here was the proof that something was wrong with Hermione Granger.
"She's gone barmy, Neville," Ron said moving cautiously to Neville's side, "She's acting worse than she did when she found out Buckbeak was going to be executed."
As if to prove Ron's point for him, Hermione reached out and slapped him hard across the face.
"What the bloody Hell was that for?!" Ron shouted, bringing his hand up to tenderly touch his stinging cheek.
"How dare you bring that up, you heartless monster?" Hermione hissed, looking berserk as she got in his face that Ron actually took a step back, "You're no better than Malfoy!!"
"No better than --…?!"
Before Ron could finish his retort, an openly sobbing Hermione pushed her way into the castle, crying hysterically as she ran from the two boys. As she did, a flash of grey followed by a larger flash of orange rushed through the open doors and bolted out into the school grounds.
"Scabbers! Bloody Hell!!" Ron jumped down off the steps and started chasing after his rat and Hermione's cat, but he stopped in his tracks when he heard Neville calling after him.
"Ron, where are you going? What about Hermione?"
"Go after her, Nev…tell McGonagall something's wrong with her…I've got to stop her ruddy cat from eating Scabbers!"
Without another word, Ron took off after the two pets. He surely would have lost the two animals in the tall grass and underbrush if not for the bright orange bottlebrush tail of Crookshanks', bobbing and weaving as he chased Scabbers.
Ron was nearly out of breath from chasing the two animals hither and yon across the vast grounds of the school. He'd never seen his pet rat move so fast in all the years he'd known him…including the years when he still belonged to Percy. Of course, Scabbers was, quite literally, running for his life and such a situation would surely account for the sudden spryness in the rat, despite its sickly appearance and despondent nature since the Weasley family's holiday to Egypt.
A massive tree loomed large in the foreground, and it didn't take a genius to realize that Scabbers was headed right for it. Ron could just make out a large, gaping hole in the ground among the roots; no doubt, if the rat made it into that hole, Ron would lose him, even if Scabbers did manage to evade Crookshanks this time around.
"Scabbers, no!" Ron yelled, gasping for breath. He then turned his frustration in Crookshanks' direction, "Stay away from Scabbers, you bloody orange beast!!"
It was obvious that neither animal had any intention of listening to Ron. Scabbers continued racing towards the perceived safety of the tree roots and with a sudden burst of speed, Crookshanks leapt forward, pouncing on the rat and pinning the squeaking, struggling rodent to the ground.
The squeaking grew louder as the large ginger cat clamped its jaws down on the scruff of Scabbers' neck and lifted him effortlessly off the ground. Crookshanks began making his own way towards the dark pit beneath the tree. Ron charged forward immediately, desperate to save his pet from certain death.
"Get off him! Let go of Scabbers!" Ron yelled, lunging at the cat.
"Let Crookshanks have him!" Ron yelled at his fourteen-year-old counterpart, "That bloody traitor deserves to get eaten!"
Crookshanks didn't seem the least bit fazed by Ron and his shouting, and with a smugly carefree flick of his tail, the big cat bounded down the hall, ignoring Scabbers' frantic squeaking and the irate hollering of the rat's owner.
Ron was just about to dive into the unknown of the gaping hole beneath the tree in order to save his pet rat when the blood-chilling sound of a menacing growl behind him made him change his mind. Ron turned around swiftly and found himself standing face-to-face with what people in the wizarding world might be wont to describe as The Grim.
The enormous, jet-black dog glared at Ron with its pale, baleful eyes; its fangs were bared and flecks of saliva dripped from its vicious mouth. Suddenly, Ron was reminded of his Uncle Bilius who had once seen the Grim and died the very next day and Ron couldn't help feeling as if his own life would soon be coming to an untimely end.
Ron nervously gripped his wand and slid it out of his pocket, bringing it around in front of him and aiming it with a shaking hand and trembling fingers at the black dog before him.
"I d-don't want to hurt you," Ron stammered trying to hold down the fear gripping his heart, "I just want to get my r-rat back; so why don't you be a good d-dog and b-bugger off!!"
"I forgot how bloody scary Sirius' animagus form really is," Ron commented as he watched the memory, "At least I won't be dealing with another broken leg; thank Merlin this is just a memory."
Recognition seemed to flash across the dog's pale yellow eyes at the sight of the wand and it growled even louder and with more ferocity, slowly stalking towards Ron, keeping its eyes locked on the tip of the red-haired boy's wand.
Despite the tremor of fear running through him, Ron kept his wand trained on the dog and took slow, measured steps towards the hole beneath the tree. As he did, however, the great black dog decided to make its own move.
Quicker than Ron could cast a spell to defend himself, the huge dog leapt at him, slamming into him with its massive paws and knocking Ron to the ground. He cried out in pain as the dog sank its slavering teeth into his arm, shaking it about violently until, with a loud snap, his arm broke and Ron dropped his wand.
The dog released him and with a massive amount of pain, Ron rolled away and struggled to his feet, gingerly holding his broken arm close to his chest. Ron looked on in disbelief as the dog very carefully and with nimble grace picked up his wand in its mouth and, with yet another menacing growl in Ron's direction, leapt into the same gaping hole beneath the tree that Crookshanks had scampered off into a few moments before.
Ron stood there, broken arm clasped to his body, trying to get a handle on the moment. In less than five minutes' time he'd lost his pet rat to Hermione's cat – the ruddy beast was probably devouring Scabbers at that very instant – and then he'd had his arm mangled and his wand stolen by what any witch or wizard worth their salt would call The Grim.
"How can this day get any worse?"
"Never ask a question you don't want answered," Ron warned his counterpart ineffectually.
As if in answer to Ron's question, a great cracking noise filled the air, as of a massive tree falling amongst other trees in the forest…all groaning and woodsy. Movement above him drew Ron's attention and his eyes widened as he realized where he was.
He hadn't noticed before since the tree had been completely still – as if stunned or asleep. Now, however, the Whomping Willow was in motion again and its huge branches waved about angrily. Ron turned to run but it was too late; the groaning of the Willow's branches, straining under the movement, was the last thing Ron heard before finding himself flying through the air…feeling as though he'd been hit by a giant Beater's bat in bizarre Quidditch match in which he was a Bludger.
Ron's flight was short, however, and before he could fully acknowledge that he was, in fact, sailing through the air, his graceless arc through the Hogwarts sky reached its zenith and he began a rapid descent towards the ground below. The lush green of the Hogwarts grounds filled his view as he plummeted down to meet it, and as his body crashed painfully into the turf below, the green which filled his vision quickly faded to black.
When the darkness finally receded, it gave way to a sea of white…and almost as soon as the white filled his vision, pain filled his body.
"Bloody Hell…" Ron groaned, his voice hoarse and cracking. He felt like his entire body was just one big bruise.
"Ah, Mr. Weasley…you're finally awake," the careworn face of Madam Pomfrey entered Ron's field of vision, breaking up the infinite whiteness that he now realized was the ceiling of the school's Hospital Wing.
"Not again," he moaned, closing his eyes and digging his head into the fluffy pillow under his head, "How long was I out this time?"
"Only for a day-and-a-half this time," Madam Pomfrey said, patting him on the should and then helping him to sit up, "Whatever inspired you to go wandering around the Whomping Willow? Honestly, how can I be expected to keep you students healthy when you actively seek misadventure at every possible opportunity?"
"Didn't mean to," Ron groaned. He was about to explain how he'd come to be within the abusive tree's domain, but the moment he opened his mouth the school matron poured a potion in.
"That should relieve the pain you're no doubt in, Mr. Weasley," the nurse explained once she finished upending the potion bottle into his mouth, "I healed your broken bones while you were unconscious…you were a bit like a Muggle jigsaw puzzle when they brought you in.
Ron didn't say anything, closing his eyes and letting the potion do its job…easing the pain that was wracking his body.
"There was also a nasty bite on your arm," Madam Pomfrey continued, checking the dressing on his forearm, "How is it you find yourself in these situations, Mr. Weasley?"
"Just lucky, I reckon," he replied, flashing her a weak smile.
Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue at Ron's cheekiness and then proceeded to tidy his bedside before moving off to tend to other patients.
"Mr. Longbottom is here and once he's finished visiting with Miss Granger, I'm sure he'll come and visit with you."
"Granger's here?" Ron asked, sitting up an looking around, "What's wrong with her? She's been acting all wonky…"
"The poor girl is suffering from exhaustion," the nurse replied, "Taking too much onto her shoulders with all those extra classes. Ah, here's Mr. Longbottom now…"
Neville walked up and flashed a smile at Ron, though it seemed forced; his eyes were full of worry and bore dark circles underneath.
"Hey, Ron…how're you feeling?"
"Better, now that I've had a dose of Pain Relief," Ron said, managing another weak smile, "You look like Hell, though, Nev. I thought I was the one got tangled up with the Whomping Willow."
"I haven't gotten much sleep," Neville explained, dropping heavily into the chair next to Ron's bed, "Having two of my closest friends unconscious in the Hospital Wing has kept me up at night. What were you doing out by the Whomping Willow?"
"Chasing Scabbers," Ron explained. His voice, though hoarse, was unmistakably tinted with anger, "I didn't realize how far I'd chased him until after Crookshanks got him."
"Got him?" Neville repeated, swallowing nervously, "You mean…?"
"I mean her bloody cat ate him!" Ron snapped, taking a moment to cast an angry glance at Hermione where she lay, sleeping in her bed across the ward.
"I'm sorry," Neville said softly, "I know how long Scabbers has been in your family."
"Twelve years," Ron said gravely, "I can hear Percy now, 'Scabbers was perfectly fine when he belonged to me, Ronald. He's yours for less than three years and you let him get eaten by a cat.' And you just know my mum is going to throw this back in my face if I ever ask for another pet, 'Why should I throw away good money on some poor creature you're just going to let get eaten?!'"
Neville tried not to laugh, knowing that Scabbers' death was a sensitive subject for Ron, but it was difficult since Ron's impersonation of his brother and mother were exaggerated and very funny. For all the joking, though, there was something in Ron's eyes what worried Neville.
"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Neville asked quietly, looking down at his feet, "You're always going to blame her, aren't you?"
"Who…Granger? Probably," Ron said, his jaw set defiantly, "If she had just owned up to it…taken some responsibility for her bloody cat…but you heard her, 'He's a cat, what do you expect?'"
"You know she hasn't been herself all year," Neville said sadly, looking over his shoulder at the sleeping girl, "You said so yourself that she wasn't acting normal."
"And nobody believed me," Ron reminded him, "I said something was wrong with her when she missed Charms that day…"
"I know…I should've listened," Neville nodded, "She was taking too many extra classes…I overheard Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey talking about her having a nervous breakdown."
"So you're asking me to forgive her and her cat," Ron said, looking away from his friend, "Just let Scabbers get eaten and not say a bloody thing."
"I know better than that, Ron," Neville sighed, "You two hate each other…there's really no way to stop you from going at it whenever you can…but we go home tomorrow, then you'll have the whole summer away from her. Can you just…I don't know…avoid her until we're back home?"
"I reckon it'll be hard to avoid her when we're both shut up in the same Hospital Wing, Nev," Ron scoffed.
"You could try," Neville said, sounding hopeful, "She might even sleep the whole time, you never know."
"I can't guarantee I won't say something, Neville," Ron said, being honest with his friend, "She pushes my buttons, you know that…but I'll try…only long enough to get back home. That means once the summer is over I'm not going to hold my tongue."
"Well, if you can hold off until next school year," Neville replied, "We can deal with the future when it happens."
"Merlin, Nev," Ron chuckled in spite of himself, "The way you're coddling Granger, if I didn't know better, I'd say you had a crush on her."
"No! Merlin, please tell me Neville is not in love with Hermione in this universe!!!" Ron was not prepared for this potential turn of events on this strange world.
Neville blushed and looked away but didn't deny Ron's words, "She's my friend, Ron…ever since the first ride on the Hogwarts Express. Nobody else would help me find Trevor, but she was more than willing…"
"I remember…Merlin, she was such a know-it-all, even then!" Ron laughed, remembering the day he first encountered Hermione and Neville, "Rubbed me the wrong way right from the start…made me feel like an idiot in front of 'famous Harry Potter'."
"It's not too late, Ron…you could still be friends," Neville said, sounding hopeful.
"Me and Potter?! You've got to be kidding, Nev!" Ron looked agog at him.
"Actually, I meant you and Hermione," Neville clarified, "It's not too late…"
"Talk about wishful thinking," Ron laughed bitterly, "There may've been a slim chance for us to be friends in the beginning…very slim…but that chance is gone. Sorry, mate."
"I understand," Neville sighed, "Listen…I need to get back to the tower. I've got to finish packing. I'll let the Ginny and your brothers know you're awake."
"Cheers, Nev."
Ron watched as his friend left the Hospital Wing and gave a deep sigh. Waking up in here at the end of the school year was starting to become a habit with him. Definitely a habit he wanted to break.
"Next year, I will not end up in the Hospital Wing," he said, making a promise to himself; one he hoped he could keep, "Nope…next year will be a year free of injuries."
He chuckled softly, knowing that he was probably setting himself for a disappointment. Most students wound up in here for one reason or another throughout the school year. Thinking he could make it an entire year without needing to see Madam Pomfrey was, likely, a delusional pipe dream.
Ron looked around the Hospital Wing, already growing tired of the white walls. His gaze fell on the sleeping form of Hermione Granger, and his eyes narrowed bitterly. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, seemingly oblivious to what happened out there under the boughs of the Whomping Willow.
"Neville's my best friend, so I'll do as he asked…I'll give you a break for now," Ron said quietly, not meaning for anyone to hear him, "But your cat ate Scabbers, and I'm not going to forgive you for this, Granger. Next year…all bets are off."
Ron rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes, intending to catch a nap before his brothers and Ginny showed up to check on him and no doubt take the mickey out of him for winding up in the Hospital Wing again. He sat up suddenly when he heard a sad little voice quietly say "I'm sorry". He looked over to Hermione's bed, but if it had been her, she was pretending to be asleep. He lay back down and closed his eyes, deciding he had been hearing things. That there was no way that Hermione Granger would apologize to him was the last thought passing through his head before things faded to black once again.
When the darkness faded to light again, Ron found himself sitting in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, heading home for the summer holiday. Neville was sitting next to him, reading a copy of The Daily Prophet and Hermione was sitting quietly across from them, gazing sadly out the window. Her cat, Crookshanks, sat unhappily inside his wicker cat carrier and anytime he saw fit to yowl in protest, the bushy-haired girl would lean in and shush him, practically begging the cat to quiet down.
Ron, himself, was flipping through a copy of Which Broomstick, reading an article on the brooms the national Quidditch teams would be using at the World Cup over the summer. With any luck, he and Neville would get to see them first hand as his dad had mentioned getting tickets from a friend of his in the Ministry.
Despite his interest in the article, every few moments Ron would look up over the top of his magazine and quickly glance at Hermione. Her unusual quietude was unnerving, but he didn't comment on it since he'd promised Neville to leave her alone. Frankly, he had wanted to sit in a different compartment, but Neville had insisted so that he could keep an eye on his friend since he was still worried about her.
Ron suspected that she might be so quiet and making a point of keeping her cat quiet because she felt guilty about Scabbers' death at the hands of the furry ginger menace locked in the cat hutch. Part of him felt glad that she was feeling guilty…she should after all, since it was her cat that ate poor Scabbers. Another part of him…the part that went after her on Halloween night back in First Year and hurried to back her up against Potter, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle a few months ago…wanted to let her off the hook. They weren't friends by any stretch of the imagination, but they were both Gryffindors and that had to count for something.
Still, Ron was nothing if not stubborn and proud. Scabbers' death was a point of contention he refused to give up lightly. He was giving her the summer to get over her "exhaustion", and then come 1 September, he'd be giving her a piece of his mind over what her stupid cat had done and how it was all her fault. Of course, Neville wouldn't be too happy about that…
Ron looked over at his friend and noticed that he looked a tad bit flustered as he read the newspaper. "Something wrong, Nev?"
"It says here that Sirius Black showed up in the middle of the Ministry two days ago and has been cleared of all the crimes he committed."
"What? That's mental!"
"Here, read it yourself," Neville said, passing Ron the paper. Hermione looked as if she, too, would like to see the article, but she said nothing.
SIRIUS BLACK: A FREE MAN!
Following a shocking series of events in which escaped prisoner Sirius Black showed up in the heart of the Ministry of Magic, Cornelius Fudge himself granted Black a full pardon and issued an official apology for what he called Black's "wrongful imprisonment".
"I heartily apologize to Mr. Black for the miscarriage of justice perpetrated against him twelve years ago. As a result of new evidence in regards to his case, Mr. Black has been cleared of all charges and he will be compensated for the dozen years he wrongfully served in Azkaban prison."
That evidence the Minister of Magic referred to came in the form of Peter Pettigrew alive and well and confessing to the crimes for which Black was convicted. Pettigrew was one of thirteen people – alongside twelve innocent Muggles – thought to have been killed by Black on Halloween Night in 1981.
Pettigrew is set to stand trial immediately, though with his full confession, it is expected to be a quick one. Prosecution in the case is said to be asking for no less than the Dementors' Kiss for Pettigrew, while the Defense is expected to ask for a lifetime sentence in Azkaban.
For years, Sirius Black was considered the right-hand-man of You-Know-Who himself, though in reality he staunchly opposed the dark wizard and his plans for world domination. With his name finally in the clear, hopefully Mr. Black can begin to heal the pain that began for him on a dark night so many years ago.
"I can't believe he's innocent!" Ron gasped, handing the paper back to Neville who handed it to Hermione without sparing Ron so much as a glance.
"I wonder where Peter Pettigrew has been hiding all these years," Neville replied.
"Somewhere near Hogwarts, obviously."
Ron jumped in spite of himself at the sound of Hermione's voice. He hadn't heard her speak in hours, and hadn't expected her to weigh in on the conversation he was having with Neville.
"How do you figure that?" Neville asked, intrigued by Hermione's answer.
"Well, he'd been spotted inside Hogwarts once, and the Dementors were guarding the entire school and searching Hogsmeade Village regularly; it stands to reason that he was in the area for something. Peter Pettigrew must have been nearby…he knew that somehow."
"So he wasn't really there to kill Potter?" Ron sounded disappointed, "Pity."
"You should just be thankful he wasn't there to kill you either," Neville laughed, slapping Ron on the back, "Considering the way he woke you up that night."
Hermione rolled her eyes, no doubt put off by the boys' joking attitude toward such morbid topics. She went back to being silent and looking out the window while Ron and Neville joked around about being attacked by murdering lunatics.
"If only things had played out this way on my world," Ron thought as his counterpart and Neville continued their joking, "Sirius would be a free man and Harry would be living with him instead of the Dursleys. It may be selfish, but I prefer a world where Sirius is a fugitive and Harry's my best friend to a world where Sirius is free and Harry's a Slytherin."
"What's that?"
Ron and Neville turned their attention back to Hermione when she spoke up again nearly an hour later. She was looking intently out the window at something trying its best to keep pace with the train. The thing was very small and gray and was bobbing in and out of sight beyond the glass. It was a tiny owl, carrying a long, thin parcel that was much too big for it. The owl was so small that it kept tumbling over in the air, buffeted this way and that in the train's slipstream.
Hermione pulled down the window, and the fluffy little owl struggled inside, flapping its wings frantically. Once inside, the owl dropped its package onto Ron's seat and began zooming around the compartment, apparently very pleased with itself for accomplishing its task. Inside the cat-carrier, Crookshanks sat up and was following the owl with his great yellow eyes, yowling hungrily. Ron, noticing this, snatched the owl safely out of harm's way, letting it perch on his shoulder.
The parcel was over a foot long, but was rather thin. It was wrapped in brown paper and there was a note tied to it with Ron's name on it. Surprised and confused, Ron tore off the note and began reading it.
Dear R. Weasley,
You may not remember me, though we had a couple of run-ins over the course of the year that I fear may have left you somewhat the worse-for-wear. Let me immediately apologize for the unfortunate wake-up call that no doubt kept you up at least for the rest of the night…if not for several more afterwards. We'll call that a case of mistaken identity, as you are definitely not the person I was looking for and I certainly didn't mean to give you such a fright.
Also, I must apologize for your mistreatment at the "paws" of my furry friend, Padfoot. He's usually a very nice dog with an even temper. I do hope the bite and the broken arm have healed.
I do appreciate you "lending" Padfoot your wand; believe me when I say I couldn't have made it to the Ministry without it. Thanks for your help; you were invaluable in getting myself exonerated. You'll find your wand inside the package…thanks again for the loaner.
Lastly, I feel bad about what happened to your rat. It goes without saying that you will never see him again…so by way of apology, I thought you might like to keep the little owl who delivered this to you…I'm not sure how reliable he is, but he certainly is eager.
Sincerely,
S. Black
"Bloody Hell," Ron gasped once he'd finished the note. He scooped up the package off the seat and quickly ripped it open, "My wand! I thought for sure it was gone for good. I was not looking forward to telling Mum and Dad they'd need to get me a new wand two years in a row."
"Who's it from, Ron?" Neville asked, understandably curious.
"You'll never believe it." Ron handed him the note and Neville read it with wide eyes. "He says I can keep the owl, too."
At the mention of the little ball of feathers, the owl nibbled at Ron's ear in what it seemed to think was an affectionate way.
"He's a mental little thing," Ron commented, scooping the owl off his shoulder, stroking his feathers, "And I'll have a hard time explaining where I got him, but now I'll never have to rely on Errol when I want to write you, Nev. I always worried that he was going to cark it somewhere between the Burrow and your place and Mum would never let me hear the end of it."
"What are you going to call him?" Neville asked, looking at the excitable little owl as it hooted happily as it sat in the palm of Ron's hand.
"I've no idea," Ron said honestly, "But I'm sure I'll think of something."
The memory started to fade as he was once again plunged into darkness, and Ron found himself chuckling at the little grey owl as it hooted and hopped up and down on its new master's hand.
"Nice to see Pig is still the same barmy little ball of feathers he is back home. He's a much better pet than Scabbers ever was..."
AUTHOR'S END NOTES: And there it is. Chapter 6. I won't even begin to believe Chapter 7 will be ready in two weeks. I'll start working on it this weekend (after my birthday party), and hopefully I'll have to you people in LESS than two months!
I'm sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out, and I'm sorry if it sucked really bad.