A/N
Oracle2Phoenix: Hey, thanks for reading my story. Don't worry I will continue writing after book 3. There are a lot of scene in my head already for the other books. Aurora will stay at Hogwarts to continue her education there.
Lady Riddle-Black: Thank you!
Maximum Dusk: I was asking myself the same question, but then I thought: Sirius doesn't know Aurora is at Hogwarts. It was kept out of the paper, Dumbledore's order. Sirius also never thought about his daughter because he hasn't' seen her since she was 1 and it's hard to send a present from Azkaban. I thought about it a lot and I thought this was the best ;). Also thank you for the lovely review :p I completely agree with you! :p
Now on with the story!
Chapter 8: The Patronus Charm
I knew that Hermione had meant well, but that didn't stop Harry from being angry with her. He had been the owner of the best broom in the world for a few short hours, and now, because of her interference, he didn't know whether he would ever see it again. He was positive that there was nothing wrong with the Firebolt now, but what sort of state would it be in once it had been subjected to all sorts of anti-jinx tests? He told me this over and over again. It was really irritating after hearing it several times.
Ron was furious with Hermione too. As far as he was concerned, the stripping-down of a brand-new Firebolt was nothing less than criminal damage. Hermione, who remained convinced that she had acted for the best, started avoiding the common room. Me being a good friend, decided that Hermione would need a friend right now and the boys have each other, so I thought I keep Hermione company.
We have taken refuge in the library and the boys didn't try to persuade her to come back, or me for that matter.
All in all, we were glad when the rest of the school returned shortly after New Year, and Gryffindor Tower became crowded and noisy again. Wood sought Harry out on the night before term started. I was sitting with the boys because Hermione was doing her homework and I already finished and I needed someone to talk to.
"Had a good Christmas?" he said, and then, without waiting for an answer, he sat down, lowered his voice, and said, "I've been, doing some thinking over Christmas, Harry. After last match, you know. If the Dementors come to the next one… I mean… we can't afford you to — well —"
Wood broke off, looking awkward.
"I'm working on it," said Harry quickly. "Professor Lupin said he'd train me to ward off the Dementors. We should be starting this week. He said he'd have time after Christmas."
"Ah," said Wood, his expression clearing. "Well, in that case — I really didn't want to lose you as Seeker, Harry. And have you ordered a new broom yet?"
"No," said Harry.
"What! You'd better get a move on, you know — you can't ride that Shooting Star against Ravenclaw!"
"He got a Firebolt for Christmas," said Ron.
"A Firebolt? No! Seriously? A — a real Firebolt?"
"Don't get excited, Oliver," said Harry gloomily. "I haven't got it anymore. It was confiscated." And he explained all about how the Firebolt was now being checked for jinxes.
"Jinxed? How could it be jinxed?"
"Sirius Black," Harry said wearily. "He's supposed to be after me. So McGonagall reckons he might have sent it."
Waving aside the information that a famous murderer was after his Seeker, Wood said, "But Black couldn't have bought a Firebolt! He's on the run! The whole country's on the lookout for him! How could he just walk into Quality Quidditch Supplies and buy a broomstick?"
"I know," said Harry, "but McGonagall still wants to strip it down —"
Wood went pale.
"I'll go and talk to her, Harry," he promised. "I'll make her see reason… A Firebolt… a real Firebolt, on our team… She wants Gryffindor to win as much as we do… I'll make her see sense. A Firebolt…"
"That boy is way to fanatic. Doesn't he care about your health?" I said.
The boys looked at me like I was crazy. I stared back. Nobody looks at me like that.
Classes started again the next day. The last thing anyone felt like doing was spending two hours on the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamanders for their enjoyment, and we spent an unusually good lesson collecting dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing while the flame-loving lizards scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs. The first Divination lesson of the new term was much less fun; Professor Trelawney was now teaching them palmistry, and she lost no time in informing Harry that he had the shortest life line she had ever seen.
It was Defense Against the Dark Arts that Harry and I were keen to get to; after his conversation with Wood, he wanted to get started on his anti-Dementor lessons as soon as possible. So did I, I didn't want to hear my mother again.
"Ah yes," said Lupin, when Harry and I reminded him of his promise at the end of class. "Let me see… how about eight o'clock on Thursday evening? The History of Magic classroom should be large enough… I'll have to think carefully about how we're going to do this… We can't bring a real Dementor into the castle to practice on…"
"Still looks ill, doesn't he?" said Ron as they walked down the corridor, heading to dinner. "What d'you reckon's the matter with him?"
There was a loud and impatient "tuh" from behind them. It was Hermione, who had been sitting at the feet of a suit of armor, repacking her bag, which was so full of books it wouldn't close.
"And what are you tutting at us for?" said Ron irritably.
"Nothing," said Hermione in a lofty voice, heaving her bag back over her shoulder.
"Yes, you were," said Ron. "I said I wonder what's wrong with Lupin, and you —"
"Well, isn't it obvious?" said Hermione, with a look of maddening superiority.
Oh crap, she knows, how did she found out? On the outside I looked calm but on the inside I was freaking out.
"If you don't want to tell us, don't," snapped Ron.
"Fine," said Hermione haughtily, and she marched off. When she passed me, she gave me a calculating look.
"She doesn't know," said Ron, staring resentfully after Hermione. "She's just trying to get us to talk to her again."
"Why can't you guys forgive her? She's hurting!" I said to them.
They ignored me. "Boys!" I muttered.
At eight o'clock on Thursday evening, Harry and I left Gryffindor Tower for the History of Magic classroom. It was dark and empty when we arrived, but I lit the lamps with my wand and we waited only five minutes when uncle Moony turned up, carrying a large packing case, which he heaved onto Professor Binn's desk.
"What's that?" said Harry.
"Another Boggart," said Lupin, stripping off his cloak. "I've been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we'll get to a real Dementor. The Boggart will turn into a Dementor when he sees you, so we'll be able to practice on him. I can store him in my office when we're not using him; there's a cupboard under my desk he'll like."
"Okay," said Harry, trying to sound as though he wasn't apprehensive at all and merely glad that Lupin had found such a good substitute for a real Dementor.
"And how am I going to practice? The Boggart won't change into a Dementor for me," I asked.
"I don't know. The only thing you can do is stand a little behind Harry and practice that way. If it doesn't work, we will have to find another solution," uncle Moony said.
"So…" uncle Moony had taken out his own wand, and indicated that we should do the same. "The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, Harry, Aurora — well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm."
"How does it work?" said Harry nervously.
"Well, when it works correctly, It conjures up a Patronus," said uncle Moony, "which is a kind of anti-Dementor — a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the Dementor."
I had a sudden vision of myself standing behind a soldier who was swinging a sword at the Dementor.
Uncle Moony continued, "The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon — hope, happiness, the desire to survive — but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can't hurt it. But I must warn you, Aurora, Harry, that the charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it."
"What does a Patronus look like?" I asked curiously.
"Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it."
"And how do you conjure it?"
"With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory."
I cast my mind about for a happy memory. Certainly, nothing about my mother or father would work, since I don't have any happy memories about them, at least not very happy memory.. Finally, I settled on the moment when I pulled me first prank on uncle Moony without getting caught.
"Right," I said, trying to recall as exactly as possible the wonderful, soaring sensation of happiness.
"The incantation is this —" uncle Moony cleared his throat. "Expecto patronum!"
"Expecto patronum," Harry and I repeated, "expecto patronum."
"Concentrating hard on your happy memory?"
"Oh — yeah —" I said, hearing Harry do the same, quickly forcing my thoughts back to the result of the prank. "Expecto patrono — no, patronum — sorry — expecto patronum, expecto patronum"
Something whooshed suddenly out of the end of Harry's wand; it looked like a wisp of silvery gas.
"Did you see that?" said Harry excitedly. "Something happened!"
"Very good," said Lupin, smiling. "Right, then — ready to try it on a Dementor?"
"What about me?" I asked, " It didn't work for me."
"Pick another memory, Aurora, I'm guessing this one isn't strong enough," uncle Moony told me.
I thought about it. Another very happy memory. And then it came to me. The moment I found out that they wanted to be my friends. The moment I found out I had friends. I smiled and nodded to uncle Moony. I was ready.
"Ok, you guys ready?" uncle Moony asked.
"Yes," Harry said, gripping his wand very tightly, and moving into the middle of the deserted classroom. I went to stand a little behind him. I tried to keep my mind on fleeing I had then, but something else kept intruding… Any second now, I might hear my mother again… but I shouldn't think that, or I would hear her again, and I didn't want to…
Uncle Moony grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled.
A Dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned toward Harry, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out. The Dementor stepped from the box and started to sweep silently toward Harry, drawing a deep, rattling breath. A wave of piercing cold broke over me —
"Expecto patronum!" Harry yelled. "Expecto patronum! Expecto —"
I tried but I couldn't, I couldn't think anymore.
The classroom and the Dementor were dissolving… I was falling again through thick white fog, and my mother's voice was louder than ever, echoing inside my head — "I'm sick of this, I can't handle it anymore…"
"Mum, what are you doing?"
"Aurora!"
I jerked back to life. I was lying flat on my back on the floor. The classroom lamps were alight again. I didn't have to ask what had happened. I looked beside me and saw Harry lying on the floor to. He looked at me. We give each other a weak smile.
"Sorry," I muttered, sitting up and feeling cold sweat trickling down my back.
"Are you all right?" said uncle Moony.
"Yes…"
Harry pulled himself up on one of the desks and leaned against it.
"Here —"uncle Moony handed him a Chocolate Frog. "Eat this before we try again. I didn't expect you to do it your first time; in fact, I would have been astounded if you had."
"It's getting worse," Harry muttered, biting off the Frog's head. "I could hear her louder that time — and him — Voldemort —"
"I heard me to, this time" I said, looking at the floor.
Uncle Moony looked paler than usual.
"If you don't want to continue, I will more than understand —"
"I do!" said Harry fiercely, stuffing the rest of the Chocolate Frog into his mouth. "I've got to! What if the Dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? I can't afford to fall off again. If we lose this game we've lost the Quidditch Cup!"
"Me to, I don't want to relive that moment ever again!" I stood tall.
"All right then…" said uncle Moony. "You might want to select another memory, Harry, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on… That one doesn't seem to have been strong enough…"
Harry nodded. I saw him concentrating. He gripped his wand tightly again and took up his position in the middle of the classroom. I went to stand behind him again.
"Ready?" said uncle Moony, gripping the box lid.
"Ready," said Harry; I took a deep breath and thought about the others, and not dark thoughts about what was going to happen when the box opened.
"Go!" said uncle Moony, pulling off the lid. The room went icily cold and dark once more. The Dementor glided forward, drawing its breath; one rotting hand was extending toward Harry —
"Expecto patronum!" Harry and I yelled. "Expecto patronum! Expecto Pat —"
White fog obscured my senses… big, blurred shapes were moving around me… then came a voice, my mother's voice, shouting, —
" I'm sick of this, I can't handle it anymore…"
"Mum, what are you doing?"
"It's the only way, the only way I can get away from here, my sweet darling, here I come –"
"Mum, Nooooooo!"
"Aurora! Aurora… wake up…"
Uncle Moony was tapping me hard on the face. This time it was a minute before I understood why I was lying on a dusty classroom floor.
"I heard my dad," Harry mumbled. "That's the first time I've ever heard him — he tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give my mum time to run for it…"
I suddenly realized that there were tears on my face mingling with the sweat. So did Harry. He bent his face as low as possible, wiping them off on his robes, pretending to do up his shoelace, so that we wouldn't see. But I did, I feel his pain.
"You heard James?" said uncle Moony in a strange voice.
"Yeah…" Face dry, Harry looked up. "Why — you didn't know my dad, did you?"
"I — I did, as a matter of fact," said uncle Moony. "We were friends at Hogwarts. Listen, Harry, Aurora — perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This charm is ridiculously advanced… I shouldn't have suggested putting you through this…"
"No!" said Harry. He got up again. "I'll have one more go! I'm not thinking of happy enough things, that's what it is… hang on…"
"I'm sitting this one out, I can't handle another one," I said. I went to sit as far away from them as possible.
Harry got to his feet and faced the packing case once more.
"Ready?" said uncle Moony, who looked as though he were doing this against his better judgment.
"Concentrating hard? All right — go!"
He pulled off the lid of the case for the third time, and the Dementor rose out of it; the room fell cold and dark —
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry bellowed. "EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
The screaming inside my head had started again — except this time, it sounded as though it were coming from a badly tuned radio — softer and louder and softer again… and I could still see the Dementor… it had halted… and then a huge, silver shadow came bursting out of the end of Harry's wand, to hover between him and the Dementor, and Harry was still on his feet — though for how much longer, I wasn't sure…
"Riddikulus!" roared uncle Moony, springing forward.
There was a loud crack, and Harry's cloudy Patronus vanished along with the Dementor; Harry sank into a chair, looking as exhausted as if he'd just run a mile, and f his legs were shaking. Out of the corner of my eye, i saw uncle Moony forcing the Boggart back into the packing case with his wand; it had turned into a silvery orb again.
I stood up and went to Harry. I smiled at him.
"Excellent!" uncle Moony said, striding over to where Harry sat. "Excellent, Harry! That was definitely a start!"
"Can we have another go? Just one more go?"
"Not now," said Lupin firmly. "You've had enough for one night. Here —"
He handed Harry a large bar of Honeydukes' best chocolate.
"Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week? And Aurora, I want you to go to bed immediately. Why can't you just eat chocolate, it would be so much easier."
"Okay," Harry and I said togehter. He took a bite of the chocolate and I watched uncle Moony extinguishing the lamps that had rekindled with the disappearance of the Dementor.
"Professor Lupin?" Harry said. "If you knew my dad, you must've known Sirius Black as well."
Uncle Moony turned very quickly.
"What gives you that idea?" he said sharply.
"Nothing — I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts too…"
Uncle Moony's face relaxed.
"Yes, I knew him," he said shortly. "Or I thought I did. You'd better be off, it's getting late."
We left the classroom, walking along the corridor and around a corner, then Harry took a detour behind a suit of armor, waving to me to follow him and sank down on its plinth to finish his chocolate. I went to sit next to him, wishing he hadn't mentioned Black, as uncle Moony was obviously not keen on the subject.
"Aurora, can I ask you a question?" he asked.
"Sure, what is it?"
"Why do you call Lupin uncle? Is he really your uncle?"
I sat there quietly, wondering how I should tell him.
"Uncle Moony isn't really my uncle. He's my godfather and after my mother passed away, or killed herself, I went to live with him. He was at our place a lot, helping my mother. He tried to reason with her, that she should let go, give up the research, that she couldn't do anything. It didn't work, so he stopped trying and began to help me. I don't know what I would've done without him. I think I would be insane right know. I own him so much. I love him." Tears were running down my face.
"I'm so sorry, Aurora, I shouldn't have asked," he put an arm around me.
"No, it's ok," I put my head on his shoulder. "Thank you!"
"For what?" he asked.
"For being here, for being my friend and for not judging me."
"No problem, you are my friend, Aurora, and friends help each other!"
He give my shoulder a squeeze, stood up, crammed the last bit of chocolate into his mouth, helped me up and we headed back to Gryffindor Tower.
Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin won, though narrowly. According to Harry, this was good news for Gryffindor, who would take second place if they beat Ravenclaw too. Wood therefore increased the number of team practices to five a week. This meant that with uncle Moony's anti-Dementor classes, which were draining, Harry had just one night a week to do all his homework. I tried to help as much as I could.
Even so, he was not showing the strain nearly as much as Hermione, whose immense workload finally seemed to be getting to her. Every night, without fail, Hermione was to be seen in a corner of the common room, several tables spread with books, Arithmancy charts, rune dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects, and file upon file of extensive notes; she barely spoke to anybody and snapped when she was interrupted. I tried talking to her that she was killing herself, but she didn't listen.
"How's she doing it?" Ron muttered to me one evening as I sat finishing a nasty essay on Undetectable Poisons for Snape. I looked up. Hermione was barely visible behind a tottering pile of books.
I didn't have time to fathom the mystery of Hermione's impossible schedule at the moment; I really needed to get on with Snape's essay. Helping Harry with his first, made me falling behind on my work, but it was the last one. Didn't mean I wanted it to be over. Two seconds later, however, I was interrupted again, this time by Wood.
"Bad news, Harry. I've just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. She — er — got a bit shirty with me. Told me I'd got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about you staying alive. Just because I told her I didn't care if it threw you off, as long as you caught the Snitch first."
Wood shook his head in disbelief. "Honestly, the way she was yelling at me… you'd think I'd said something terrible. Then I asked her how much longer she was going to keep it…" He screwed up his face and imitated Professor McGonagall's severe voice. "As long as necessary, Wood"… I reckon it's time you ordered a new broom, Harry. There's an order form at the back of Which Broomstick… you could get a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, like Malfoy's got."
"I'm not buying anything Malfoy thinks is good," said Harry flatly.
I rolled my eyes. "Boys," I mumbeled.
January faded imperceptibly into February, with no change in the bitterly cold weather. The match against Ravenclaw was drawing nearer and nearer, but Harry still hadn't ordered a new broom. He was now asking Professor McGonagall for news of the Firebolt after every Transfiguration lesson, Ron standing hopefully at his shoulder, Hermione rushing past with her face averted and me standing torn. Follow Hermione or listen to what McGonagall has to say. At the end she won, he really wanted to know if the Firebolt was send by my father.
"No, Potter, you can't have it back yet," Professor McGonagall told him the twelfth time this happened, before he'd even opened his mouth. "We've checked for most of the usual curses, but Professor Flitwick believes the broom might be carrying a Hurling Hex. I shall tell you once we've finished checking it. Now, please stop badgering me."
To make matters even worse, Harry's anti-Dementor lessons were not going nearly as well as he had hoped. Several sessions on, he was able to produce an indistinct, silvery shadow every time the Boggart-Dementor approached him, but his Patronus was too feeble to drive the Dementor away. All it did was hover, like a semitransparent cloud, draining Harry of energy as he fought to keep it there.
I told him that he was doing great, better than me. I hadn't even produced anything.
"You're expecting too much of yourself," said uncle Moony, sternly in our fourth week of practice. "For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren't passing out anymore, are you?"
"I thought a Patronus would — charge the Dementors down or something," said Harry dispiritedly. "Make them disappear —"
"The true Patronus does do that," said uncle Moony. "But you've achieved a great deal in a very short space of time. If the Dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground."
"You said it's harder if there are loads of them," said Harry.
"I have complete confidence in you," said uncle Moony, smiling.
"Here — you've earned a drink. Something from the Three Broomsticks. You won't have tried it before —"
He pulled three bottles out of his briefcase.
"Butterbeer!" said Harry, without thinking. "Yeah, I like that stuff!"
Uncle Moony raised an eyebrow. I wanted to slap myself in the face. Stupid!
" Ron and Hermione brought us some back from Hogsmeade," I lied easily.
"I see," said uncle Moony, though he still looked slightly suspicious.
"Well — let's drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw! Not that I'm supposed to take sides, as a teacher…" he added hastily.
We drank the butterbeer in silence, until Harry voiced something he'd been wondering for a while.
"What's under a Dementor's hood?"
Uncle Moony lowered his bottle thoughtfully.
"Hmmm… well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor lowers its hood only to use its last and worst weapon."
"What's that?"
"They call it the Dementor's Kiss," said uncle Moony, with a slightly twisted smile. "It's what Dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and — and suck out his soul."
Harry accidentally spat out a bit of butterbeer.
"That's disgusting," I said, looking sick.
"What — they kill —?"
"Oh no," said uncle Moony. "Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no… anything. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever… lost."
Uncle Moony drank a little more butterbeer, then said, "It's the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry have given the Dementors permission to perform it if they find him."
I sat stunned for a moment at the idea of someone having their soul sucked out through their mouth.
"He deserves it," Harry said suddenly.
"You think so?" I said coldl. "Do you really think anyone deserves that?"
"Yes," said Harry defiantly. "For… for some things…"
I stared at him. "It's a cruel and nobody deserves that fate, even the cruelest persons out there. There are other ways to do things."
Harry sat there, looking at me and then he nodded. I really hoped he understands it.
We finished our butterbeer, thanked uncle Moony, and left the History of Magic classroom.
I half wished that Harry hadn't asked what was under a Dementor's hood, the answer had been so horrible, and I was so lost in unpleasant thoughts of what it would feel like to have your soul sucked out of you that I didn't notice Harry walking headlong into Professor McGonagall halfway up the stairs.
"Do watch where you're going, Potter!"
"Sorry, Professor —"
"I've just been looking for you in the Gryffindor common room, Well, here it is, we've done everything we could think of, and there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it at all — you've got a very good friend somewhere, Potter…"
Harry's jaw dropped. She was holding out his Firebolt.
"I can have it back?" Harry said weakly. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," said Professor McGonagall, and she was actually smiling. "I daresay you'll need to get the feel of it before Saturday's match, won't you? And Potter —do try and win, won't you? Or we'll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me only last night…"
Speechless, Harry carried the Firebolt back upstairs toward Gryffindor Tower. As we turned a corner, we saw Ron dashing toward him, grinning from ear to ear.
"She gave it to you? Excellent! Listen, can I still have a go on it? Tomorrow?"
"Yeah… anything…" said Harry. "You know what — we should make up with Hermione… She was only trying to help…"
"Yeah, all right," said Ron. "She's in the common room now working — for a change."
I smiled at them, they finally grew a pair of brains.
We turned into the corridor to Gryffindor Tower and saw Neville, pleading with Sir Cadogan, who seemed to be refusing him entrance.
"I wrote them down!" Neville was saying tearfully. "But I must've dropped them somewhere!"
"A likely tale!" roared Sir Cadogan. Then, spotting Harry, Ron and me: "Good even, my fine young yeomen and Lady! Come clap this loon in irons. He is trying to force entry to the chambers within!"
"Oh, shut up," said Ron as we drew level with Neville.
"I've lost the passwords!" Neville told them miserably. "I made him tell me what passwords he was going to use this week, because he keeps changing them, and now I don't know what I've done with them!"
"it's ok, Neville, I'll help you," I said to him.
"Oddsbodkins," said Harry to Sir Cadogan, who looked extremely disappointed and reluctantly swung forward to let them into the common room. There was a sudden, excited murmur as every head turned and the next moment, Harry was surrounded by people exclaiming over his Firebolt.
"Where'd you get it, Harry?"
"Will you let me have a go?"
"Have you ridden it yet, Harry?"
"Ravenclaw'll have no chance, they're all on Cleansweep Sevens!"
"Can I just hold it, Harry?"
After ten minutes or so, during which the Firebolt was Passed around and admired from every angle, the crowd dispersed and we had a clear view of Hermione, the only person who hadn't rushed over to us, bent over her work and carefully avoiding their eyes. We approached her table and at last, she looked up.
"I got it back," said Harry, grinning at her and holding up the Firebolt.
"See, Hermione? There wasn't anything wrong with it!" said Ron.
"Well — there might have been!" said Hermione. "I mean, at least you know now that it's safe!"
"Yeah, I suppose so," said Harry. "I'd better put it upstairs."
"I'll take it!" said Ron eagerly. "I've got to give Scabbers his rat tonic."
He took the Firebolt and, holding it as if it were made of glass, carried it away up the boys' staircase.
"Can we sit down, then?" Harry asked Hermione. I smiled at her, nodding to her.
"I suppose so," said Hermione, moving a great stack of parchment off a chair.
I looked around at the cluttered table, at the long Arithmancy essay on which the ink was still glistening, at the even longer Muggle Studies essay ('Explain Why Muggles Need Electricity') and at the rune translation Hermione was now poring over.
"How are you getting through all this stuff?" Harry asked her.
"Oh, well — you know — working hard," said Hermione. Close-up, I saw that she looked almost as tired as uncle Moony.
"Why don't you just drop a couple of subjects?" Harry asked, watching her lifting books as she searched for her rune dictionary.
"I couldn't do that!" said Hermione, looking scandalized.
"Hermione, your killing yourself!" I said.
"Arithmancy looks terrible," said Harry, picking up a very complicated-looking number chart.
"Oh no, it's wonderful!" said Hermione earnestly. "It's my favorite subject! It's —"
But exactly what was wonderful about Arithmancy, we never found out. At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys' staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder — and then Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet.
"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to Hermione's table. "LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face.
"Ron, what —?"
"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!"
Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. I looked down at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it. Something that looked horribly like —
"BLOOD!" Ron yelled into the stunned silence.
"HE'S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?"
"N — no," said Hermione in a trembling voice.
Ron threw something down onto Hermione's rune translation. Hermione, Harry and I leaned forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs.
A/N: hey I'm sorry it took so long to update but the stupid exams are not done and they tale a lot of my time.
But you can make me happy again by clicking on review