Chapter 14

FAMILIARS

This is embarrassing," Ron grumbled as Pigwidgeon did another barrel roll past his ear. "If Hagrid says today that familiars complement their guardians' natures, I think I'll explode."

Glancing from the fluttering owlet to Hedwig, perched sedately on his forearm, Harry had to admit he didn't buy that theory either. His animal wasn't displaying one twitch of the nervous excitement quivering inside him. Tonight was the night. Tonight he would interrogate Snape. He didn't know how he was going to get through a whole day of classes waiting.

Mud from last night's downpour squelched under Harry's feet, and he lifted his robes. Rounding a tumble of frost-encrusted blackberry vines, he and Ron joined the Magical Companions students already gathered by Hagrid's cabin. Hermione waved as Crookshanks wove around her ankles. Beside her, Neville poked through brambles on hands and knees. Evidently, he'd already lost his toad, Trevor. Ron acknowledged his sister Ginny with a curt nod, his eyes fixed jealously on the sleek silver fox she was hugging. The first day of class, Vixie had chosen her, bounding out of the woods straight into her arms. Harry had to agree—nobody else's familiar topped that.

Scowling at the tiny owl doing loop-de-loops around his head, Ron growled, "Behave, Pig."

Of the rest of the class, two Hufflepuffs had cats and three had dogs. The four Ravenclaws favored birds. No surprise, Crabbe had a pig. Eyeing the lazy green iguana perched atop Wilhelm's shoulder, Harry thought, There's a familiar that fits his guardian perfectly.

Pig back-flipped onto Ron's head. Before the owl could try another stunt, he thrust her under his arm. Without a word, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked on, not stopping until they were huddled beneath a stand of pines still dripping with rain.

Harry leaned close. "Is the time-release powder ready?"

"Finished it last night." Hermione dropped her voice. "Let me emphasize that the interval between the truth granules and the dream granules kicking in will be brief—not more than ten minutes. You've got to be prepared."

Harry chafed his hands together to warm them. "I've had three sleepless weeks to think about it. I'll test him, then come right to the point. I'll ask where his loyalties—"

Ron nudged him. Looking back, Harry saw Hagrid plodding out of his hut, his pace unusually slow. Even so, Ariel Daine—barely reaching his elbow—slipped and slid across the mucky ground as she tried to keep up.

"More team teaching?" Harry asked. "How does the staff manage doubling up their lessons?" Already McGonagall had guest lectured on animals and animagi, and Flitwick had described how familiars assisted wizards and witches in carrying out spells.

"The professors use Time-Turners," Hermione said knowledgeably. "At this very moment, Professor Daine is teaching first-years back in the castle. I guess she's here to tell us how familiars can impart warnings and help protect against dark magic."

"So long as Hagrid doesn't ask Trelawney to tell us how animals predict the future," Ron said. Then he frowned. "What's that hag doing here? She's not in this class."

Harry looked back to see Millicent lumbering out of the hut behind Professor Daine. Noticing the huge black cat draped around her neck like a great fur ruff, Harry surmised she'd hung back to avoid aggravating Hagrid's allergy. Even so, the half-giant exploded a sneeze into a red hanky the size of a tablecloth.

"I guess because she is a hag—from a long line of famous ones." Since claiming Millicent as a friend, Harry had looked up hags in the library. He'd learned they were women of exceptional clairvoyant abilities who'd chosen the guise of ugliness to avoid being dismissed as merely pretty. "She's probably here to assist Professor Daine."

Hermione nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised if her cat can predict the future."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "I thought you considered divination a load of codswallop."

"As Professor Trelawney does it, yes. She doesn't understand that divination by crystal ball has a lot more to do with temporal transfiguration than eerie lighting."

Crookshanks meowed as if agreeing, and Harry glanced down. Following the ginger tom's yellow-eyed gaze to Millicent, he saw her black cat wink. Hedwig fluffed out her feathers, attempting to appear as large as possible in front of the bird-eaters.

"From what I've read," Hermione continued, "hags know their stuff."

"Bet she's aces at interpreting bat entrails," Ron said out the side of his mouth.

Millicent stood with her back to the class, her black cat peering over her shoulder. Harry passed his rock hand to hand, reluctant to throw it.

"Come on," Millicent said. "Bête Noire's beginning to think you don't trust him."

Faint laughter broke out around Harry. Swallowing hard, he raised his rock and tossed it. Neither Millicent nor Bête Noire flinched as it splashed in a puddle three feet short.

Crabbe tittered. "Potter, you throw like a girl."

"Oh, really?" Hermione muttered. She stepped up, aimed, and pitched her stone straight at the cat. Just before it would have hit, Millicent dodged to the left, saving both herself and the cat on her shoulder from getting smacked.

"Knew she'd do that," Hermione said.

Professor Daine smiled. "Milly's so attuned to Bête Noire, he's like eyes in the back of her head. Most animal companions will do that—warn you of danger—whether or not your bond is magical. But Milly's going to show us another level of communication. Bête Noire can help her read minds."

"Oh, right," Ron muttered.

Professor Daine turned her soft hazel eyes to him. "And you can help demonstrate. I'd like you and Neville to decide on a number using hand signs none of the rest of us can see except for the cat."

The two walked off trailed by Bête Noire, hunched over to hide their gestures, then ambled back. The big black cat raced back to her mistress.

"Now, I want you both to imagine throwing that number of rocks at Milly."

Neville looked nervous but narrowed his eyes to stare at Millicent's back. Ron widened his eyes in a mockery of mental projection.

Bête Noire gazed at them, then nuzzled Millicent's ear. She broke out laughing. "Two-hundred and seventeen. But Longbottom wants everyone to know he would never do such a thing. And Weasley thinks this is one big joke."

Ron's gaping mouth told Harry his friend no longer scoffed at the possibility of communication between guardians and familiars. But an hour later, as the practice half of the period drew to a close and Harry's stomach rumbled for lunch, Ron was scoffing again—this time at the possibility of communication between him and Pigwidgeon.

"There's no way that flibbertigibbet is going to impart anything to me. She won't even sit still." Ron glowered at his classmates' creatures—Hedwig who had communicated to Harry how many twigs Hagrid held behind his back, Crookshanks who had guided a blindfolded Hermione around the boggy spots in the clearing, and all the other beasts that had given their guardians messages. When Ron's gaze lit on Neville, his frown deepened. Mr. Can't-Do-Anything-Right was still grinning at Trevor for helping him remember in which pocket he'd misplaced his wand.

"These things take time," Hermione said. "Most of us have been with our beasts a lot longer than—"

Ron jerked his head toward his sister who was sharing eye-to-eye communion with her fox. "About three months for Ginny, a year and a half for me. Though I have to say, I find it hard to swallow her claim that Vixie told her I love you."

Professor Daine strolled towards them. "Ron, you're the only one left. Won't you try again?"

Ron glared up at Pig zigzagging across the darkening sky. "Don't let me keep everyone from lunch. We'll starve before that bird even pays attention to me."

Professor Daine cocked her head. "I think she wants you to pay attention to her. Familiars, you know, complement their guardians' natures."

Please don't explode, Harry thought.

Instead, Ron looked defeated. "I was given that owl. I didn't pick her. She didn't pick me. She's okay for delivering letters short distances, but that's about it. For a real bond, I need a companion with something more than a birdbrain."

Wilhelm gave a superior snort. "Weasley, even bees can be familiars, even wasps or termites. The determining factor is not the animal but the wizard."

Harry saw Ron flush. In sympathy, he murmured, "I don't remember Avery's iguana telling him all that much."

Professor Daine shot Harry a warning glance, then laid her hand gently on Ron's shoulder. "I think Pigwidgeon zips around like that because she craves attention. She feels overshadowed, under-appreciated, untried. Look at me! she says. I'm special, too. All I need is a chance to show my stuff."

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. Professor Daine's evaluation was so accurate, it was frightening. If his friend had looked embarrassed before, he now looked stricken. The unpleasant truth was, Pig's behavior did complement her guardian's nature after all.

In subdued tones, Ron said, "Pigwidgeon. That's great. What an aerial gymnast you are. No bird can fly like you. Fantastic. Wow."

"There's the stuff," Hagrid whispered.

At first, Harry thought the owlet hadn't heard. Then she swooped down to Ron's shoulder and leaned her cheek against his, hooting softly. For once, he appeared to be concentrating on her. In a moment, his blue eyes widened.

"The rain is going to start up again, any minute now. It's going to be a deluge."

Wilhelm snickered. The next instant, he threw his hood over his head.

En masse, students and animals raced through the pelting rain, up the slope to the castle.

Dripping and laughing, the Magical Companions class crowded into the entry way, hugging their animals and chattering about the morning. Only twelve more hours before I confront Snape, Harry told himself. If he didn't keep his mind off it, he'd never manage the wait. The way his stomach was growling, he wondered if he could wait the few minutes it would take for the Great Hall to open for lunch. He was eager to go inside, hang up his soggy cloak, and dip into a steaming stew.

Already, Hedwig had flown away to the owlery to sleep. Pigwidgeon remained cuddled against Ron's neck. Watching Crookshanks wander off with Bête Noire through a forest of ankles, Harry said, "I think they know each other."

"I've been wondering where he goes at night," Hermione answered.

Night. The word pulled Harry's thoughts straight back to Snape. Tonight, after three weeks of laborious preparation, they would finally settle the question of his loyalty once and for all.

As that certainty crossed his mind, Harry caught sight of the man himself trudging up the dungeon steps. When Snape paused to scowl at the sodden crowd, Harry resisted the urge to return a challenging grin. Just you wait, he thought.

A few feet away, Hagrid stood gabbing with Professor Daine about the differences between British and American hinkypunks. When Snape fixed his cold black eyes on the half-giant's back, Harry tensed.

Raising his chin, the professor strode forward and stopped in front of Hagrid. "About that umbrella incident. The Ministry is considering my letter." His dark eyes flicked over to Professor Daine. He inclined his head in mocking acknowledgment of her presence, then swept on across the entry and down another corridor.

Anger boiled up inside Harry. Snape had ordered Malfoy not to complain to the Ministry of Magic. Instead, he was doing it himself. By what right! Hadn't Hagrid's unauthorized use of his old school wand helped save Dumbledore?

Gritting his teeth, Harry elbowed his way between students to tug on the sleeve of Hagrid's moleskin coat. The half-giant gave a start, then whirled around, almost knocking Harry over.

"I just want you to know I'm writing the Ministry, too," Harry said. "I'm going to tell them the truth about what happened."

A grin appeared under Hagrid's bristly beard. "Oh, will yeh, now?"

Ron and Hermione wedged in beside Harry.

"We weren't there, but we heard all about it," Hermione said. "We'll write, too."

"Tha's good news fer me. The word o' the professors will coun' more in a situation like this, but yer letters'll mean somethin'."

"It's the least we could do," Harry said.

Hagrid's smile broadened, and his dark eyes seemed to twinkle. "An' I have good news fer yeh, too. Le'me whisper it." Harry stood on tiptoes, while the half-giant lowered his shaggy head. "Professors Dumbledore an' McGonagall had quite a time convincin' the Board of Gov'ners, bu' we finally go' permission."

Perplexed, Harry stretched higher to catch Hagrid's excited murmur.

"Gryffindor gets ter show off a griffin after all. Waldo, this time. No mix-ups. He'll be comin' tomorrow, Saturday."

Slowly, Harry settled back down on his heels. He tried his best to return Hagrid's smile. Another griffin . . . as if he didn't have enough to worry about.

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