Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's except for Jamie, Luka, and Ariana.
Chapter 4- Talons and Tea Leaves
When Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I enter the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing we see is Draco Malfoy, who seems to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As we pass, Malfoy does a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there is a roar of laughter.
"Ignore him," says Hermione, who is right behind Harry. "Just ignore him, it's not worth it. . . ."
"Hey, Potter!" shrieks Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with a face like a pug. "Potter! The dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooo!"
"Hey Pansy you're just jealous 'cause Malfoy doesn't spend as much time with you!" I shout back at her ignoring Hermione completely. Pansy flushes a deep red, and jumps up from her table to confront me, but a few of her friends hold her back.
We take our seats at the table with Harry and Ron sitting next to Fred and George Weasley. "New third-year course schedules, and by the way beautifully executed Lady Jamie," says George, passing them over. "What's up with you, Harry?"
"Malfoy," says Ron glaring over at Malfoy and the Slytherin table in general.
George looks up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again.
"That little git," he says calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"
"Nearly wet himself," says Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy. I snicker imagining Malfoy wetting his shorts in front of all of Hogwarts. Ah, a girl can dream can't she?
"I would've paid to see that." I say wistfully. Fred smirks at me.
"For you Jame it would be free." He tells me with a grin. I smile back and scoop some porridge into my bowl.
"What about me, I'm your brother?" Ron says expectantly.
"Family discount ten sickles." George responds before Fred can open his mouth. Ron gapes at the two of them in shock.
"But I'm your BROTHER!" Ron emphasizes loudly.
"Unfortunately that you are." Fred says testing his ears to see if they still work. Ron grumbles about the unfairness of the twins under his breath and turns back to his breakfast before him.
"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," says Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?" I feel my spirits pick up imagining the last game that we had played against Slytherin. Sure I had come away with a bludger to the head but Quidditch is always enjoyable.
Hermione meanwhile is examining her new schedule. "Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," she says happily.
"Hermione," says Ron, frowning as he looks over her shoulder, "they've messed up your schedule. Look — they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough time." Huh, I've never known of Hogwarts messing up schedules before.
"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall." Hermione says.
"But look," says Ron, laughing, "see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And" — Ron leaned closer to the schedule, disbelieving — "look — underneath that, Arithmancy, nine o'clock. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"
"Don't be silly," says Hermione shortly. "Of course I won't be in three classes at once."
I lean over Ron's shoulder to look at the paper as well. Sure enough there's all those classes listed under nine o'clock.
"Hermione…" I try to object.
"Well, then —" Ron tries.
"Pass the marmalade," says Hermione.
"But —" Ron goes for it again.
"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my schedule's a bit full?" Hermione snaps. "I told you, I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."
Just then, Hagrid enters the Great Hall. He is wearing his long moleskin overcoat and is absentmindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand. I shudder trying to inch away from the dead beast. Not in my porridge please, I really don't feel like eating dead porridge.
"All righ'?" he says eagerly, pausing on the way to the staff table. "Yer in my firs' ever lesson! Right after lunch! Bin up since five gettin' everythin' ready. . . . Hope it's okay. . . . Me, a teacher . . . hones'ly. . . ."
He grins broadly at us and heads off to the staff table, still swinging the polecat.
"Wonder what he's been getting ready?" wonders Ron, a note of anxiety in his voice.
The hall is starting to empty as people head off towards their first lesson. Ron checks his course schedule. "We'd better go, look, Divination's at the top of North Tower. It'll take us ten minutes to get there. . . ."
We hurriedly finish our breakfasts, say good-bye to Fred and George, and walk back through the hall. As we pass the Slytherin table, Malfoy does yet another impression of a fainting fit. The shouts of laughter follow Harry into the entrance hall.
"Don't worry Harry. Malfoy's just jealous that he'll never be half as popular as you are." I tell him shooting my friend a big smile.
"She's right mate, don't let that git get to you!" Ron exclaims still glaring at the hall in our wake.
The journey through the castle to North Tower is a long one. Two years at Hogwarts hasn't taught us everything about the castle, and we have never been inside North Tower before.
"There's — got — to — be — a — shortcut," Ron pants as we climb our seventh long staircase and emerge on an unfamiliar landing, where there is nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall.
"I think it's this way," says Hermione, peering down the empty passage to the right.
"Can't be," says Ron. "That's south, look, you can see a bit of the lake out of the window . . ."
"I don't care anymore… go on without me. I'll remember you fondly." I tell them doubled over and attempting to catch my breath.
"I can't believe you're that our of shape from one summer Jamie." Harry mutters distractedly. I rear up glaring, but Harry's not paying me any attention. Harry is watching the painting. A fat, dapple-gray pony has just ambled onto the grass and is grazing nonchalantly. A moment later, a short, squat knight in a suit of armor clanks into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he has just fallen off.
"Aha!" he yells, seeing Harry, Ron, Hermione, and me. "What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!"
We watch in astonishment as the little knight tugs his sword out of its scabbard and begins brandishing it violently, hopping up and down in rage. But the sword is too long for him; a particularly wild swing makes him overbalance, and he lands facedown in the grass.
I have to cover up my giggle behind my hand. "Are you all right?" asks Harry, moving closer to the picture.
"Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!" The knight seizes his sword again and uses it to push himself back up, but the blade sinks deeply into the grass and, though he pulls with all his might, he can't get it out again. Finally, he has to flop back down onto the grass and push up his visor to mop his sweating face.
"Listen," says Harry, taking advantage of the knight's exhaustion, "we're looking for the North Tower. You don't know the way, do you?"
"A quest!" The knight's rage seems to vanish instantly. He clanks to his feet and shouts, "Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!"
He gives the sword another fruitless tug, tries and fails to mount the fat pony, gives up, and cries, "On foot then, good sirs and gentle ladies! On! On!"
I chuckle in amusement as he runs, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of sight. We hurry after him along the corridor, following the sound of his armor. Every now and then we spot him running through a picture ahead.
"Be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come!" yells the knight, and we see him reappear in front of an alarmed group of women in crinolines, whose picture hangs on the wall of a narrow spiral staircase. Great more stairs, I don't think that I'm going to be able to survive the trip to this class.
Puffing loudly, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I climb the tightly spiraling steps, getting dizzier and dizzier, until at last we hear the murmur of voices above us and know we have reached the classroom.
"Farewell!" cries the knight, popping his head into a painting of some sinister-looking monks. "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!" I can't help but return a wave to him.
"Fare thee well dear knight Sir Cadogan!" I reply with a quick curtsy. The last thing that I see of him is a pair of bright red cheeks underneath a shiny helmet as he dashes out of sight.
"Well if you're done flirting with the painting Jamie we have to get to class! We're already late!" Hermione cries.
"We're on time Hermione." Ron whines from beside her as we ascend the last few steps.
"Seriously Ronald when are you going to learn? On time is always late." Hermione scolds him, and I give Harry a dubious glance. Well what does that mean when we're actually late for a class? Don't even bother showing up?
We climb the last few steps and emerge onto a tiny landing, where most of the class is already assembled. There are no doors off this landing, but Ron nudges Harry and points at the ceiling, where there is a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.
"'Sybill Trelawney, Divination teacher,'" Harry reads aloud. "How're we supposed to get up there?" As though in answer to his question, the trapdoor suddenly opens, and a silvery ladder descends right at Harry's feet. Everyone gets quiet.
"After you," said Ron, grinning. Harry's eyes grow wide and he shakes his head.
"Fine, if you boys would like to join me in the land of the brave and the awesome any time soon then by all means you can follow me up the ladder." I tell them, pushing Harry aside and climbing up the rungs, while balancing my rucksack on my back.
I emerge into the strangest-looking classroom I have ever seen. In fact, it doesn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables are crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything is lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows are all closed, and the many lamps are draped with dark red scarves. It is stiflingly warm, and the fire that is burning under the crowded mantelpiece is giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heats a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls are crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.
"I don't think we're in Hogwarts anymore…" I say trailing off at the sheer amount of stuff that is in this room. Harry, Hermione, Ron and the other start appearing behind me, all of us not quite sure how to take in the sight of this classroom.
"Where is she?" Ron asks. A voice comes suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice.
"Welcome," it says. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."
My immediate impression is of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moves into the firelight, and we see that she is very thin; her large glasses magnifies her eyes to several times their natural size, and she is draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hang around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands are encrusted with bangles and rings.
"Sit, my children, sit," she says, and we all climb awkwardly into armchairs or sink onto poufs. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I sit ourselves around the same round table.
"Welcome to Divination," says Professor Trelawney, who has seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."
Nobody says anything to this extraordinary pronouncement. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranges her shawl and continues, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field. . . ."
Well then why in the name of Merlin's saggy pants did she make us buy this ruddy book? Oh well it looks like Luka's got his Christmas present all ready! At these words, Harry, Ron, and I glance, grinning, at Hermione, who looks startled at the news that books wouldn't be much help in this subject.
"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney goes on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. "It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," she says suddenly to Neville, who almost topples off his pouf. "Is your grandmother well?"
"I think so," says Neville tremulously. Well now she's just scaring the poor boy for no reason.
"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," says Professor Trelawney, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulps, and I sigh softly. Professor Trelawney continues placidly. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she shoots suddenly at Parvati Patil, "beware a red-haired man."
Parvati gives a startled look at Ron, who is right behind her, and edges her chair away from him. I can't help but snicker at that and try to muffle the sound by using the edge of my robes. It wouldn't be good for me to get on the bad side of my professor during the very first day!
"In the second term," Professor Trelawney continues on, "we shall progress to the crystal ball — if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever."
Okay I was so not expecting that. Harry… no this has nothing to do with him. There are a lot of things that are fantastical in the wizarding world that we live in but divination is one of those that is hardly ever correct… right?
A very tense silence follows this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seems unaware of it. "I wonder, dear," she says to Lavender Brown, who is nearest and shrank back in her chair, "if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"
Lavender, looking relieved, stands up, takes an enormous teapot from the shelf, and puts it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.
"Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading — it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October." She predicts. Lavender trembles.
"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear" — she catches Neville by the arm as he makes to stand up — "after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue-patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."
Sure enough, Neville has no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there is a tinkle of breaking china. Professor Trelawney sweeps over to him holding a dustpan and brush and says, "One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn't mind . . . thank you. . . ."
When Hermione and I have had our teacups filled, we head back to our table and try to drink the scalding tea quickly. We swill the dregs around as Professor Trelawney has instructed, then drain the cups and swap them. Hermione is muttering under her breath about the silliness of all this.
I happen to agree but I'm getting that this class could actually be some fun after all. Her teas leaves just look like a ball of mush crumpled together in no real important way, but I look in my book anyway, curious to see if there is an actual meaning behind this type of tea dregs.
"Okay then what do you see in mine?" Hermione asks me not having even bothered to look at my cup yet.
"Well… it sort of looks like a soggy hairball so I'm going to go with very soon your cat Crookshanks will cough up a hairball into your shoe, and that you will not find it until its too late." I tell her screwing up my brow. I set down her cup with a satisfied smile only to hear the chuckles of Ron and Harry, and the un-amused Hermione.
"Well done! Excellent job Jamie Pendragon. I can tell that there's a budding divisioner in you just yet!" Professor Trelawney says popping up behind me causing me to jump in shock.
"O-oh well thank you professor!" I stutter still trying to get control of my racing heart. Harry and Ron are seriously snickering now, and Hermione's face looks like a thundercloud. "What about mine Mione?" I ask her trying to get the attention off me and quickly.
Hermione glances into my cup, then to the book that's open in front of her. "It looks somewhat like a squashed bug, and that means that you're being a nuisance." Hermione snaps. I wince at the aggravated tone that she's using. Okay not a good time to joke around with her.
"Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Professor Trelawney cries through the gloom. I can hear Harry and Ron goofing off from my other side.
"Let me see that, my dear," she says reprovingly to Ron, sweeping over and snatching Harry's cup from him. Everyone goes quiet to watch. Professor Trelawney is staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.
"The falcon . . . my dear, you have a deadly enemy." She announces.
"But everyone knows that," says Hermione in a loud whisper. Professor Trelawney stares at her.
"Well, they do," says Hermione. "Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who." Who is this and what have they done with my best friend, its like she's been possessed!
Harry, Ron, and I stare at her with a mixture of amazement and admiration. We have never heard Hermione speak to a teacher like this before. Professor Trelawney chooses not to reply. She lowers her huge eyes to Harry's cup again and continues to turn it.
"The club . . . an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup. . . ."
"I thought that was a bowler hat," says Ron sheepishly. I pat his back understandingly.
"Its okay I thought it was a unicorn." I whisper to him. Ron barely muffles a snort.
"The skull . . . danger in your path, my dear. . . ."
Everyone is staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gives the cup a final turn, gasps, and then screams. There is another tinkle of breaking china; Neville has smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sinks into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.
"My dear boy . . . my poor, dear boy . . . no . . . it is kinder not to say . . . no . . . don't ask me. . . ."
Okay now I'm starting to seriously get freaked out here. I know that all this is pretty easy to make up because everyone pretty much knows everything about Harry but this is getting to be a lot to fake even for a phony.
"What is it, Professor?" says Dean Thomas at once. Everyone has got to their feet, and slowly they crowd around our table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Harry's cup.
"My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes open dramatically, "you have the Grim."
"The what?" says Harry. Anticlimactic much? From looking around at the others I can see that they don't understand what she means either.
"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cries Professor Trelawney, who looks shocked that Harry hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen — the worst omen — of death!"
Harry goes pale, and that's when I finally start to worry. Lavender Brown claps her hands to her mouth too. Everyone is looking at Harry, everyone except Hermione, who has gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney's chair.
"I don't think it looks like a Grim," she says flatly. Okay time for round two! Professor Trelawney surveys Hermione with mounting dislike.
"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."
Seamus Finnigan is tilting his head from side to side. "It looks like a Grim if you do this," he says, with his eyes almost shut, "but it looks more like a donkey from here," he says, leaning to the left. I chuckle softly.
"When you've all finished deciding whether I'm going to die or not!" cries Harry, taking us by surprise. Now nobody seems to want to look at him.
"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," says Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice. "Yes . . . please pack away your things. . . ." Silently the class takes their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packs away their books, and closes their bags.
Harry storms ahead of us a few paces and starts down the ladder without so much as a word. Okay maybe I could have handled that whole situation a little better but seriously what am I going to do? I can't be doing the right thing all of the time, I think that I would explode plus I'm only thirteen! I sigh and shake my head as I descend the ladder after Ron.
There must have been something in the food today for I swear that everyone has been acting grumpier and meaner. We set off for Professor McGonagall's transfiguration class once we're all down the ladder. It takes us so long to find her classroom that, early as we had left Divination, we were only just in time.
Harry made to sit in the back of the classroom so we followed him there. I held back Ron from sitting next to Harry so that Hermione could. I think that she'd be the one to do the best good at the moment since she doesn't believe in the divination rubbish at all. So Ron huffs and sits down next to me in the row in front of our friends.
Its hard to pay attention to McGonagall who is telling us about Animagi (wizards who can transform at will into animals), and I'm not even watching when she transforms herself in front of our eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.
"Really, what has got into you all today?" says Professor McGonagall, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at us all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."
Everybody's heads turn towards Harry again, but nobody speaks. Then Hermione raises her hand. "Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and —"
"Ah, of course," says Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"
Everyone stares at her.
"Me," says Harry, finally. I hope that I'm not detecting a hint of worry and resignation in his voice. This is not the time for Harry to be giving up already. The school year has only just literally begun!
"I see," says Professor McGonagall, fixing Harry with her beady eyes. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues —"
Professor McGonagall breaks off, and we see that her nostrils have gone white. She goes on, more calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney —"
She stops again, and then says, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in."
Okay now I feel better, knowing that McGonagall thinks that Trelawney is a hack as well. Now I'm left to wonder just how exactly she got the position here at Hogwarts. Dumbledore is usually so thorough with his job hires. Hermione laughs at McGonagall's comment however.
Not everyone is convinced, however. Ron still looks worried, and Lavender whispers, "But what about Neville's cup?"
When the Transfiguration class has finished, we join the crowd thundering towards the Great Hall for lunch.
"Ron, Jamie cheer up," says Hermione, pushing a dish of stew toward Ron. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said." Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn't start. I start picking apart the roll on my plate.
"Harry," he says, in a low, serious voice, "you haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"
"Yeah, I have," replies Harry. "I saw one the night I left the Dursleys'." Ron lets his fork fall with a clatter.
"Probably a stray," says Hermione calmly. Okay I wasn't expecting Harry to have actually seen this Grim hound. This is getting a little creepy.
Ron looks at Hermione as though she has gone mad or grown three heads. "Hermione, if Harry's seen a Grim, that's — that's bad," he says. "My — my uncle Bilius saw one and — and he died twenty-four hours later!"
"Coincidence," says Hermione airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.
"You don't know what you're talking about!" cries Ron, starting to get angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"
I nod my head along with what Ron is saying. "He is right. I think that even Kingsley is a little scared of them and he's not scared of anything." I say before I can even check myself. I didn't mean to let that slip. I didn't want to bring Kingsley up in case one of them asked me about him. What am I supposed to say, 'hey guys sorry but I've been lying to you for the past months for my guardian lied to me'?
Somehow I don't think that that would go over that well. I tune back into the conversation at hand.
"There you are, then," says Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry's still with us because he's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!"
Ron mouths wordlessly at Hermione, who opens her bag, taking out her new Arithmancy book, and props it open against the juice jug.
"I think Divination seems very woolly," she says, searching for her page. "A lot of guesswork" Well I can't disagree with her there.
"There was nothing woolly about the Grim in that cup!" says Ron hotly.
"You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep," replies Hermione coolly.
"Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You just don't like being bad at something for a change!"
He has touched a nerve. Hermione slams her Arithmancy book down on the table so hard that bits of meat and carrot fly everywhere. Oh no this is not going to be good. I grimace and crouch down a little so as not to be seen.
"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!" She snatches up her bag and stalks away. This day has been the longest ever and its only halfway over it seriously needs to end soon!
Ron frowned after her. "What's she talking about?" he says to Harry. "She hasn't been to an Arithmancy class yet." Something is going on here, and I'm going to find out what it is eventually.
Harry and I are pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. Yesterday's rain has cleared; the sky is a clear, pale gray, and the grass is springy and damp underfoot as we set off for our first-ever Care of Magical Creatures class.
Ron and Hermione aren't speaking to each other. So Harry and I walk beside them in silence as we go down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It is only when I spot three only-too-familiar backs ahead of us that I realize that we must be having these lessons with the Slytherins. Malfoy is talking animatedly to Dumb and Dumber, who are chortling. I am quite sure I know what they are talking about.
Hagrid is waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stands in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start.
"C'mon, now, get a move on!" he calls as the class approaches. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!" I can't help but start to get excited for this lesson. Hagrid looks so happy and he hasn't been these last few years, so I can't wait to try out what he's got planned!
Hagrid strolls off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, we find ourselves outside a kind of paddock. There is nothing in there though.
"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he calls. "That's it — make sure yeh can see — now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books —"
"How?" says the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. Boy does that voice just make me want to punch him.
"Eh?" says Hagrid.
"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeats. He takes out his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which he has bound shut with a length of rope. Other people takes theirs out too; some, like Harry, have belted their book shut; others have crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips. I had put a quick immobilizing charm on mine.
"Hasn' — hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" asks Hagrid, looking crestfallen. We all shake our heads no.
"Yeh've got ter stroke 'em," explains Hagrid, as though this is the most obvious thing in the world. "Look —"
He takes Hermione's copy and rips off the Spellotape that binds it. The book tries to bite, but Hagrid runs a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivers, and then falls open and lays quiet in his hand.
"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneers. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!"
"I — I thought they were funny," Hagrid says uncertainly to Hermione.
"Oh, tremendously funny!" says Malfoy. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"
"Be quiet you git or I'll give you something that you can actually complain about." I hiss at Malfoy. He turns his hateful glare onto me.
"I'd like to see you try Pendragon." He sneers quietly right back. Harry grabs my arm and pulls me back from Malfoy so that we can focus back on our lesson. Hagrid's looking downcast and I was really hoping that his lesson would go well.
"Righ' then," says Hagrid, who seems to have lost his thread, "so — so yeh've got yer books an' — an' — now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on . . ."
He strides away from us into the forest and out of sight. "God, this place is going to the dogs," says Malfoy loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him —" Okay that's it Malfoy's going to lose an ear or maybe that perfectly gelled hair of his that he seems to preen for hours!
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry growls at him.
"Careful, Potter, there's a dementor behind you —"
"Oooooooh!" squeals Lavender Brown, pointing towards the opposite side of the paddock. Okay I may have just lost hearing in one ear. You'd think that I'd be used to her sound level after two years of living with her but I'm still not.
Trotting towards us are a dozen of the most bizarre creatures I have ever seen. They have the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seem to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly orange eyes. The talons on their front legs are half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts have a thick leather collar around its neck, which is attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these are held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who comes jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.
Okay now this is definitely cool. This is why I love this school, where else will you get large, unique, and potentially dangerous creatures all for free?
"Gee up, there!" he roars, shaking the chains and urging the creatures towards the fence where the class stands. Everyone draws back slightly as Hagrid reaches us and tethered the creatures to the fence.
"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roars happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"
I can sort of see what Hagrid means. Once you get over the first shock of seeing something that is half horse, half bird, you start to appreciate the hippogriffs' gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to hair, each of them a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black. So pretty much one of the coolest magical creatures that I've seen to date!
"So," says Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer —" No one seems to want to. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, approach the fence cautiously. I on the other hand practically bounce up to the fence. As long as the creature isn't part of some dangerous and deadly adventure, I am totally cool about meeting them.
"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud," says Hagrid. "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do." Okay so remember to curtsy and use my best grammar around them. Check!
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle aren't listening; they are talking in an undertone and I have a nasty feeling they are plotting how best to disrupt the lesson.
"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continues. "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.
"Right — who wants ter go first?" He asks expectantly. I bite down on my lower lip a bit nervously. I do want to meet them, but I'm still not exactly sure how well that will go over.
"No one?" says Hagrid, with a pleading look.
"I'll do it," says Harry bravely. I beam at him.
"You can do it Harry!" I tell him shooting him a thumbs up. There is an intake of breath from behind us, and both Lavender and Parvati whisper, "Oooh, no, Harry, remember your tea leaves!" Okay so going to dump out all of their makeup that they got over the summer when we get back to the dorms.
Harry ignores them. He climbs over the paddock fence. "Good man, Harry!" roars Hagrid. "Right then — let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."
He unties one of the chains, pulls the gray hippogriff away from its fellows, and slips off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seems to be holding its breath. Malfoy's eyes are narrowed maliciously.
"Easy, now, Harry," says Hagrid quietly. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink. . . . Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much. . . ."
Harry and Buckbeak begin their stare down. "Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, Harry . . . now, bow . . ." Harry gives a short bow to the hippogriff in front of him. The hippogriff is still staring haughtily at him. It didn't move.
"Ah," says Hagrid, sounding worried. "Right — back away, now, Harry, easy does it —"
But then, to my enormous surprise, the hippogriff suddenly bends its scaly front knees and sinks into what is an unmistakable bow.
"Well done, Harry!" says Hagrid, ecstatic. "Right — yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!" Harry reaches out a hand and pats the beak several times. I break into applause along with the class except for Malfoy, Dumb, and Dumber who are looking deeply disappointed.
"Righ' then, Harry," says Hagrid. "I reckon he might' let yeh ride him!" Okay that is so cool, and I can't wait for my turn now! Harry on the other hand does not look so sure of himself.
"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," coaches Hagrid, "an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that. . . ." Harry puts his foot on the top of Buckbeak's wing and hoists himself onto its back. Buckbeak stands up.
This is so incredibly cool! "Go on, then!" roars Hagrid, slapping the hippogriff's hindquarters. Without warning, twelve-foot wings flap open on either side of Harry; he just has time to seize the hippogriff around the neck before he is soaring upward. I crane my neck up to be able to see my best friend on his flight on a hippogriff.
I'm so jealous of him at the moment it's not even funny. After a few minutes Buckbeak and Harry land back in the paddock, and Harry looks windblown but no worse for the wear.
"Good work, Harry!" roars Hagrid as everyone except Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle cheered. "Okay, who else wants a go?" I was the first one over the fence.
Emboldened by Harry's success, the rest of the class climbs cautiously into the paddock. Hagrid unties the hippogriffs one by one, and soon people are bowing nervously, all over the paddock. Neville runs repeatedly backward from his, which doesn't seem to want to bend its knees. Ron, Hermione, and I practice on the chestnut, while Harry watched.
I actually got him to bow to me, and petting his beak has probably been one of the coolest things in my life.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle have taken over Buckbeak. He has bowed to Malfoy, who is now patting his beak, looking disdainful. "This is very easy," Malfoy drawls, loud enough for me to hear him. "I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it. . . . I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he says to the hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?" That wasn't the right thing to say, and I wince in preparation for what's going to happen.
It happens in a flash of steely talons; Malfoy lets out a high-pitched scream and next moment, Hagrid is wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strains to get at Malfoy, who lays curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes. I don't feel that bad at all for him the git didn't pay attention and had no respect for Buckbeak whatever, he had it coming. Buckbeak is officially my favorite magical creature now.
"I'm dying!" Malfoy yells as the class panics. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"
"Yer not dyin'!" says Hagrid, who has gone very white. "Someone help me — gotta get him outta here —"
Hermione runs to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifts Malfoy easily. As they pass, I see that there is a long, deep gash on Malfoy's arm; blood splattered the grass and Hagrid runs with him, up the slope towards the castle.
Very shaken, the Care of Magical Creatures class follows at a walk. The Slytherins are all shouting about Hagrid.
"They should fire him straight away!" says Pansy Parkinson, who was in tears.
"They should expel you." I mutter in retort.
"It was Malfoy's fault!" snaps Dean Thomas. Crabbe and Goyle flex their muscles threateningly. We all climb the stone steps into the deserted entrance hall.
"I'm going to see if he's okay!" says Pansy, and we all watch her run up the marble staircase. The Slytherins, still muttering about Hagrid, head away in the direction of their dungeon common room; Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I proceed upstairs to Gryffindor Tower.
"D'you think he'll be all right?" says Hermione nervously.
"This is Malfoy we're talking about, the smarmy weasel seems to have nine lives." I say crossly.
"'Course he will. Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second," says Harry, who has had far worse injuries mended magically by the nurse as well as I have.
"That was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid's first class, though, wasn't it?" says Ron, looking worried. "Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him. . . ."
We are among the first to reach the Great Hall at dinnertime, hoping to see Hagrid, but he isn't there. "They wouldn't fire him, would they?" says Hermione anxiously, not touching her steak-and-kidney pudding.
"They'd better not," growls Ron, who wasn't eating either. Harry is watching the Slytherin table. A large group including Crabbe and Goyle is huddled together, deep in conversation. I'm sure they are cooking up their own version of how Malfoy had been injured.
"Well, you can't say it wasn't an interesting first day back," comments Ron gloomily.
"Agreed." I mutter into my pie. We go up to the crowded Gryffindor common room after dinner and try to do the homework Professor McGonagall has given us, but all of us keep breaking off and glancing out of the tower window.
"There's a light on in Hagrid's window," I say suddenly. Ron looks at his watch.
"If we hurried, we could go down and see him. It's still quite early. . . ." He says.
"I don't know," Hermione says slowly, and Harry sees her glance at him.
"I'm allowed to walk across the grounds," he states pointedly. "Sirius Black hasn't got past the dementors here, has he?" I shake my head. Hogwarts is one of the safest places to outside threats.
So we put our things away and head out of the portrait hole, glad not to meet anybody on our way to the front doors, as we aren't entirely sure we are supposed to be out.
The grass is still wet and looks almost black in the twilight. When we reach Hagrid's hut, we knock, and a voice growls, "C'min."
Hagrid is sitting in his shirtsleeves at his scrubbed wooden table; his boarhound, Fang, has his head in Hagrid's lap. One look tells me that Hagrid has been drinking a lot; there is a pewter tankard almost as big as a bucket in front of him, and he seems to be having difficulty getting us into focus.
"'Spect it's a record," he says thickly, when he recognizes us. "Don' reckon they've ever had a teacher who lasted on'y a day before."
"You haven't been fired, Hagrid!" gasps Hermione. No this day has to be the worst ever!
"Not yet," says Hagrid miserably, taking a huge gulp of whatever is in the tankard. "But 's only a matter o' time, i'n't it, after Malfoy . . ."
"How is he?" says Ron as we all sit down. "It wasn't serious, was it?"
"Madam Pomfrey fixed him best she could," says Hagrid dully, "but he's sayin' it's still agony . . . covered in bandages . . . moanin' . . ." Oh Malfoy is the biggest baby I've ever seen. He even has Luka passed in my crybaby department, and Luka once fainted over the sight of a scraped knee!
"He's faking it," says Harry at once. "Madam Pomfrey can mend anything. She regrew half my bones last year. Trust Malfoy to milk it for all it's worth."
"School gov'nors have bin told, o' course," says Hagrid miserably. "They reckon I started too big. Shoulda left hippogriffs fer later . . . done flobberworms or summat. . . . Jus' thought it'd make a good firs' lesson. . . . 'S all my fault. . . ."
"It's all Malfoy's fault, Hagrid!" I say earnestly.
"We're witnesses," chips in Harry. "You said hippogriffs attack if you insult them. It's Malfoy's problem that he wasn't listening. We'll tell Dumbledore what really happened."
"Of course Hagrid anything." I tell him.
"Yeah, don't worry, Hagrid, we'll back you up," says Ron. Tears leak out of the crinkled corners of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes. He grabs both Harry and Ron and pulls them into a bone-breaking hug.
"I think you've had enough to drink, Hagrid," says Hermione firmly. She takes the tankard from the table and goes outside to empty it.
"Ar, maybe she's right," says Hagrid, letting go of Harry and Ron, who both stagger away, rubbing their ribs. Hagrid heaves himself out of his chair and follows Hermione unsteadily outside. The three of us hear a loud splash.
"What's he done?" asks Harry nervously as Hermione comes back in with the empty tankard.
"Stuck his head in the water barrel," explains Hermione, putting the tankard away.
Hagrid comes back, his long hair and beard sopping wet, wiping the water out of his eyes.
"Tha's better," he says, shaking his head like a dog and drenching us all. "Listen, it was good of yeh ter come an' see me, I really —"
Hagrid stops dead, staring at Harry as though he's only just realized he is here.
"WHAT D'YEH THINK YOU'RE DOIN', EH?" he roars, so suddenly that we jump a foot in the air. "YEH'RE NOT TO GO WANDERIN' AROUND AFTER DARK, HARRY! AN' YOU THREE! LETTIN' HIM!" I wince at the level of his voice.
Hagrid strides over to Harry, grabs his arm, and pulls him to the door. "C'mon!" Hagrid says angrily. "I'm takin' yer all back up ter school, an' don' let me catch yeh walkin' down ter see me after dark again. I'm not worth that!"
Hermione, Ron, and I follow along behind the two of them not completely sure what to make of all of this. The only thing that I know is that Hogwarts is sure going to be interesting this year again, if the first day is anything to go by.