Chapter 20

CRAMMING

Harry ran his thumb down the parchment on which he'd collected pertinent facts about familiars. Hagrid's classes were so practice-oriented that his lecture notes fit on one two-foot scroll. Despite his lack of interest, Advanced Potions had taken up three four-foot scrolls. The intricate theories of Temporal Transfiguration had required five.

"Okay, Ron. What are the four ways animal companions help their guardians perform magic?"

Ron continued staring out their study nook, down the cavern formed by two long bookcases, to the library entrance. "Where is she? Probably still working on her letter to Viktor Krum."

Harry blew out his breath. If there was one thing he didn't want, it was to be sucked into the electromagnetic storm brewing between his two best friends. Pretending he hadn't heard Ron's question, he answered his own. "One: familiars carry out spells at their guardians' direction. Two: they amplify the power of their guardians' spells. Three: they allow their guardians to impel others to carry out their spells. And four: they—"

"Notice how secretive she's becoming?" Ron glared at the doorway that Hermione wasn't entering. "Hanging out with Moaning Myrtle. Yeah, right."

Frustrated, Harry let go of his parchment and watched it curl back up. Lately, he'd been hanging out so much with Cho that he hadn't noticed what Hermione had been up to, but he was certain Ron was making a big deal out of nothing. "Do you want to drill for Magical Companions, or not? The test's tomorrow, and I—"

"—have another appointment," Ron finished sourly. From his friend's scowl, Harry knew that his newfound rapport with Cho wasn't making Ron's troubles with Hermione any easier to bear. Before Harry could respond, his friend sighed. "And all power to you."

For twenty minutes, Harry kept Ron's mind on topic while they tested each other to the ends of both their parchments. Even so, he felt guilty when he dashed out to meet Cho to review the seven scrolls they'd filled for Professor Binns. When he crawled through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room at ten and saw Ron slumped on a corner sofa, he hid Cho's early Christmas present to him inside his robes.

Summoning a pleasant smile, Harry sat down beside his friend. "After all the revising we did for Magical Companions, what do you bet the only thing Hagrid tests is whether or not we can exchange a message with our familiar? You'd have been better off working with Pig than with me."

Ron continued frowning as if he hadn't heard. Then he mumbled, "I'm worried about her."

Harry knew his friend didn't mean his owl. "Why? Hermione can take care of herself."

Ron shook his head. "Did you know that the entire time we were waiting for her, she was already in the library? After you left, I found her at a table on the other side, reading through three stacks of arcane potions texts up to here." He jabbed his own Adam's apple.

"That high sitting or—" When Ron glared, Harry straightened his glasses. "Come on. You know Hermione's been into esoteric manuscripts since we first came to Hogwarts. Snape probably mentioned some obscure formula when you and I were dozing, and she just had to look it up. If we're lucky, we can wheedle the information out of her without having to research it ourselves."

"She was acting weird. When I asked her about Magical Companions, she said, 'Memorized it.' Just before you came, she lurched in here looking even worse. When I tried to talk to her, all she said was, 'O.W.L.s,' and stumbled up to her room."

Harry smiled. "That explains it. Everyone at Hogwarts knows she'll be top of the year as always—everyone, that is, except Hermione. She can't help being afraid there's something she missed."

Ron looked unconvinced.

"Well, I'm going to bed myself." He had one more Wudang Shen session with Cho the next morning before they put flying on hold until the next term. This time they had written permission from both McGonagall and Flitwick. Snape would have no excuse to threaten them with permissionless dawn adventure detention.

Once Harry had drawn his bed curtains, settled under his covers, and lit his wand, he drew out the book of ancient Chinese magic Cho had given him. The text was in inked characters with a literal and an interpreted English translation. Stroking the intricately carved wooden cover, he decided to start with the word-for-word version, though most of it might be incomprehensible. The very title, Seven Tablets in a Cloudy Satchel, evoked images as mysterious and exhilarating as Cho herself.

To him she was pure magic.

Saturday morning, Ron sent Harry's spirits even higher. As he scanned his weekly owl post from his mother, he let out a whoop. "Mum's asked Dumbledore if you can spend the holidays at the Burrow. Won't that be great?"

Harry was thrilled. His first Christmas with a family that actually liked him.

Sunday evening, Professor McGonagall dashed his spirits back down. "I'm sorry, Potter, but your request for leave has been denied."

Harry's jaw dropped a moment before he managed, "But I've visited the Weasleys before—every summer for the last three years. Is it the Dursleys? They refused to authorize it, didn't they? They're spiteful. Just plain spiteful."

His housemistress pursed her lips sympathetically. "It wasn't your family. It was the headmaster. He told me he had a good reason. That was all he would say."

When Harry gave Ron the bad news, his friend slumped into a chair. After a minute of frowning, he murmured, "This is terrible."

"I know," Harry sighed, flopping into the chair next to him. "I was really looking forward—"

"Not just that," Ron said. "It's the implication. These failed attempts on your life—Dumbledore is worried that if you're out of his sight, the next one might succeed. What other good reason could he have for not letting you go?"

Harry took his glasses off to massage the bridge of his nose. Ever since the shock of hearing his mother's name on Snape's tongue, the question of who had been trying to kill him had paled in importance. "If that's it, then Dumbledore's being overly protective. It's been more than three weeks since the griffin incident. The Enchanted Preserve gamekeeper said he couldn't figure out how he'd misread the order. Hagrid knows him and is certain the mistake was honest. And the dragon statue incident, well, we probably misinterpreted it."

Ron eyed Harry skeptically. "Do you really believe that?"

No. "Why shouldn't I? If Dumbledore thought I was in danger, wouldn't he take more precautions than just keeping me at Hogwarts? I'm positive the sticking point is really the Dursleys—no matter what McGonagall said."

"Maybe." Ron shrugged. "Those Muggles are medieval, honestly. I can't believe you're related by blood. If they could, they'd burn you at the stake."

Harry laughed and returned his glasses to his nose. "Don't judge all non-magical folk by my relatives. Hermione would never forgive you." As soon as he mentioned her, he wished he hadn't. The worry lines in Ron's forehead only deepened.

"Whatever you do, Harry, don't tell Hermione what Dumbledore said. Pretend staying behind is your idea. She's got enough on her mind."

Monday afternoon, Harry had a hard time dragging Ron down to Snape's dungeon. Instead of facing their last Potions test of the term, Ron wanted to do an all-out search for Hermione.

"Don't worry," Harry soothed. "When we didn't see her this morning, it was because she'd snagged a quick breakfast from the elves and headed for the library. That's what Dobby told me. She probably did the same for lunch.

Ron hovered in Snape's doorway, staring up the stairs as if he could will Hermione to appear in the crowd of students tromping toward them. "Dobby told me she looked odd."

Avery, flanked by Malfoy and shadowed by Crabbe and Goyle, swaggered down the staircase. Malfoy stopped on the last step to drawl, "Saw your girlfriend, Weasley, cowering behind a heap of books in the library. I knew that mudblood would crack one of these days."

Harry gripped Ron's shoulder. But instead of confronting Malfoy, his friend turned to him. "I told you we should go look for her."

Watching the Slytherins strut by, Harry felt uneasy for the first time. "You're right. She'd never miss a test. Maybe Madame Pomfrey should—"

As the words left his mouth, Hermione appeared at the top of the steps. But her glazed expression only heightened Harry's concern. When Neville caught up with her, she didn't return his greeting. When her gaze passed over Harry and Ron, her fixed stare didn't change. She appeared to be mumbling under her breath.

Ron reached her first, taking her hand and guiding her the rest of the way. She answered his questions with, "Fine. Been reading. Remember it. All of it."

Harry took a position on Hermione's other side, keeping an eye out for any Slytherin foot stuck in the aisle to trip them. As usual for Snape's tests, a scroll tied with a no cheating ribbon lay on each acid-scarred desk. On the far side of the room, forty cauldrons simmering over forty blue fires waited to mystify them.

When Ron piloted Hermione to her stool, she repeated, "Fine."

Before Harry could share a worried frown with his friend, Snape swooped out of his office, compelling their attention.

"You have sixty minutes to answer the essay questions. At the end of that time, the scrolls will roll themselves up and return to me. Any eyes gazing at a scroll not their own will find themselves blinded until New Year's. Ready. Begin."

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