Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's except Jamie, Luka, and Ariana.
Chapter 9- The Firebolt
It takes two bowls of soup, and three glasses of hot cocoa after getting back to the castle for me to calm down, telling Ariana everything (well mostly everything), and for her to talk some sense back into me. She was very patient as she explained that Harry having heard something that shocking, and damaging about his family must have been a great shock to him.
She told me that not everyone when faced with upsetting news can hold their emotions back enough to not lash out at the first person that they see. I had retaliated with the fact that I seemed to be Harry's favorite punching bag as of late when it comes to his 'accidental' outbursts.
To that Ariana looked a little more hesitant, and suggested that if Harry didn't apologize tomorrow then maybe I should go and try to talk to him. I had sighed at that point because it was getting really tiring being the big person all the time. We skip dinner that night and I climb back to Gryffindor tower y myself after promising Ariana that I would be fine, and talk to Hermione when I got back.
Sir Cadogan smiled when he saw me and told me about a wild adventure that he had in a portrait of singing monks today, then lets me through the portrait. I stumble into the common room tired and my feet still a little numb from the cold. I drag myself up the steps to the girls dormitory and push into the room for the third years.
The room is mostly silent for the other girls had gone to sleep all expect for one girl whose bed was directly next to mine. I made it to my bed before I managed to fall face first onto my bed with a muffled moan. Before I realized what had happened there was a warm body pushed up against mine snugly, and bushy hair tickling my face.
"Jamie! Are you okay?" Hermione asked me softly keeping her voice down as to not wake our roommates that are sleeping. I can hear the worry clearly in her voice. I groaned in response to her worried query. "I'm sorry for earlier Jamie. We were just worried about Harry is all, he had some really bad stuff dropped on him today. Of course that doesn't excuse him from what he told you…" Hermione babbles nervously.
I turn my head so that I can see my worried friend's face in the darkness. "It's okay Mione I'm not mad. I understand what he's going through. This is pretty much what happened when I found out about Augustus… it always hurts the most when it hits close to home." I tell her. Hermione gives me a look that is too wise for her years.
"Harry is just too stubborn to realize that he needs to accept that his life is not the only one that's been changed by the war with Y— Voldemort." Hermione says his name for the first time. I nod my head and close my eyes slowly feeling sleep beginning to pull them down.
I feel my shoes being tugged off, and the blankets from under me shift, as Hermione tugs them forcefully from under me, so that she can lay them on top of me. "Goodnight Jamie. I wish that all of this stuff hadn't happened to you and Harry. No one should have to deal with all of this." Hermione says softly with a sigh, and I feel sleep tugging me down into its heavy luring depths.
The next morning Hermione, Ron, and I make our way to breakfast since Harry is still deeply asleep and couldn't be woken. The Hall is a flurry of kids bidding goodbye to their friends so that they can make for the carriages to take them to the train and away from here for the holiday.
Ron was awkwardly attempting to stumble through another apology that he thinks was needed, but I wave him off with a smile because he did the right thing last night. I still feel a little bad but not nearly as much as I had last night. Now I'm mostly worried about how Harry is going to take all of this. I didn't handle the situation the best way when Augustus happened to me.
Then again Harry isn't like me. Harry expresses himself far better than I do. Thankfully Malfoy and his gang of daft apes are leaving for the holiday. I don't think that I could stand spending another holiday with him running around free. The three of us talk silently over the information that he had learned yesterday about Sirius Black.
I had caught the eye of Ariana Dumbledore earlier this morning as she looked up worriedly from her porridge, and I sent her a reassuring smile. She had grinned back in reply and returned her focus to her friend's conversation. Luka's face is a storm cloud though; since I'm ninety percent sure that Ariana's told him what had happened last night, before I had arrived for breakfast.
I can only hope that my brother doesn't do anything stupid like punching Harry again like last time. When we get up to leave Luka gets up and comes over to talk to me. "Are you okay Jamie? Do I need to go and remind that so called friend of yours that I meant business the last time that I hit him?" Luka growls softly.
I smile fondly at my twin, and squeeze his arm gratefully. "I'm fine Luka. Ariana helped make a lot of sense out of what happened yesterday. I have a feeling that we're going to be just okay. Besides if there is anyone that can understand how Harry's feeling it would be the two of us." I tell him.
Luka frowns considering what I've told him. "Since when have you and Ariana spent so much time together? I thought that you two had a strict no communication policy. Dare I say that you two are actually becoming friends?" Luka jokes, grinning at me madly. I shoot a scathing glare at my twin. Before I can take a swipe at him, he darts out of sight and down a corridor.
A little later in the day Ron, Hermione, and I are found lounging in the common room. I'm playing with my charmed little paper creatures. I had considered adding a dementor to my collection but quickly decided against it for I don't want a reminder of those beasts that ready on hand.
So instead I'm sketching in my book. I'm attempting to get the shading just correct in the hair and it's not exactly right, and it's driving me crazy. Ron is attempting yet again to teach Hermione how to play wizard's chess. She's gotten a tiny better over the years but not by much.
I think everyone is just about ready to give up and label her a lost cause. After Ron swiftly beats Hermione for the third time in a row, he growls and stalks up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. Everyone not staying in the castle over the holidays have left so the common room is empty except for us.
A few minutes later Ron descends the stairs, but this time accompanied by a bedraggled Harry. Harry and I both tense when we see the other. I abandon the sketch that I'm working on to meet Harry's gaze head on. "Go on mate. What you said wasn't right." Ron whispers, attempting to be quiet. Harry does actually look ashamed.
"J-Jamie I'm sorry for what I said. I-I don't know what came over me. What happened… it was just all too much." Harry tells me looking for the right words in which to apologize to me with. I let out a shaky breath of air.
"I've been a real prat to you for the last few weeks. I-I see now how hard it must have been from you to deal with the knowledge that someone betrayed your family now." He says.
"Its okay Harry. Something like this is hard to deal with. It's been months since I've found out about Augustus and I still don't know how to handle the situation. I'm frightened half the time and he's still securely locked away in Azkeban. I forgive you mate, now enough of this." I tell him with a smile. I get up and give my friend a quick hug to let him know that we're okay.
Harry breaths out a sigh of relief when we hug, and when we separate he blushes at the pleased happy looks that our friends are sporting. Harry goes and slumps into a chair next to the fire. I return to my seat and pick up my sketchbook. Snow is still falling outside the windows. Crookshanks is spread out in front of the fire like a large, ginger rug.
"You really don't look well, you know," Hermione says, peering anxiously into his face.
"I'm fine," says Harry.
"Harry, listen," says Hermione, exchanging a look with Ron and me, "you must be really upset about what we heard yesterday. But the thing is, you mustn't go doing anything stupid."
"Like what?" asks Harry.
"Like trying to go after Black," says Ron sharply.
"You won't, will you, Harry?" says Hermione.
"Because Black's not worth dying for," Ron pitches in. It's pretty obvious that they have worked on this deterring speech for a while. A dark look crosses Harry's face. Oh great this isn't going to be good.
"D'you know what I see and hear every time a dementor gets too near me?" Ron and Hermione shake their heads, looking apprehensive, and my stomach drops remembering my voices. "I can hear my mum screaming and pleading with Voldemort. And if you'd heard your mum screaming like that, just about to be killed, you wouldn't forget it in a hurry. And if you found out someone who was supposed to be a friend of hers betrayed her and sent Voldemort after her —"
"There's nothing you can do!" says Hermione, looking stricken. "The dementors will catch Black and he'll go back to Azkaban and — and serve him right!"
"Harry I understand, I really do. I hear my parents last words that they said to me before they died and I was whisked away. Knowing that the man responsible for their deaths is still alive is agonizing, but there's nothing that I can do about it without getting hurt myself. I still have people who need me! Just like you!" I cry, pleading for him to believe me.
"Its not the same Jamie. Sirius Black has escaped! You heard what Fudge said. Black isn't affected by Azkaban like normal people are. It's not a punishment for him like it is for the others."
"So what are you saying?" says Ron, looking very tense. "You want to — to kill Black or something?"
"Don't be silly," cries Hermione in a panicky voice. "Harry doesn't want to kill anyone, do you, Harry?" The look in my friend sends shivers down my spine. It's the look of someone with blood in their eyes. Harry is seriously considering doing that.
"Harry it isn't worth it. You're life is worth more than that!" I cry trying to shake some sense into my friend. Harry ignores me.
"Malfoy knows," he says abruptly. "Remember what he said to me in Potions? 'If it was me, I'd hunt him down myself. . . . I'd want revenge.'"
"You're going to take Malfoy's advice instead of ours?" says Ron furiously. "Listen . . . you know what Pettigrew's mother got back after Black had finished with him? Dad told me — the Order of Merlin, First Class, and Pettigrew's finger in a box. That was the biggest bit of him they could find. Black's a madman, Harry, and he's dangerous —"
"Malfoy's dad must have told him," says Harry, ignoring Ron. "He was right in Voldemort's inner circle —"
"Say You-Know-Who, will you?" interjects Ron angrily.
"— so obviously, the Malfoys knew Black was working for Voldemort —"
"— and Malfoy'd love to see you blown into about a million pieces, like Pettigrew! Get a grip. Malfoy's just hoping you'll get yourself killed before he has to play you at Quidditch." I finish angrily. I'm not going to watch my friend die over this. If there's one thing that I've learned it's that holding a grudge and a poisonous secret is not good for you.
"Harry, please," says Hermione, her eyes now shining with tears, "please be sensible. Black did a terrible, terrible thing, but d-don't put yourself in danger, it's what Black wants. . . . Oh, Harry, you'd be playing right into Black's hands if you went looking for him. Your mum and dad wouldn't want you to get hurt, would they? They'd never want you to go looking for Black!"
"I'll never know what they'd have wanted, because thanks to Black, I've never spoken to them," says Harry shortly. I wince at the low blow. Fine if we're going to play dirty then lets play dirty.
"You're not the only one with dead parents Harry. Luka and I will never know what our parents would have wanted for us either, but there is one thing that is for sure. Both of our parents died defending us from evil so that we could live. I don't think that they'd want us going around murdering people for that is evil Harry. Killing someone out of cold blooded is evil. And even if you don't think so at the moment, you are above it, and so am I." I tell him getting to my feet.
"If you need someone to remind you of this you can come to me, Hermione, and Ron and we will remind you. This life that we are going to lead is not going to be an easy one but it is the one that we have been given. I have faith that with the help of each other that we will make it." I tell him finishing my speech with fire in my eyes.
The common room is quiet for a few seconds before Harry gets up and stands in front of me. The look in his eye is unreadable before the ghost of a smile crosses his face. "So together then?" He asks. I nod my head solemnly. Harry gives me a long look like he's really seeing me for the first time in a long time.
Then he sticks out his hand to me. "To the end then." Harry tells me equally as solemnly. I take his hand and we give a firm shake. When we're done we both smile at each other. We turn to Ron and Hermione who are looking at us with questioning looks. "We're good. Don't worry guys I won't do anything stupid just yet." Harry says.
"Good," says Ron, obviously casting around for a change of subject, "it's the holidays! It's nearly Christmas! Let's — let's go down and see Hagrid. We haven't visited him for ages!"
"No!" says Hermione quickly. "Harry isn't supposed to leave the castle, Ron —"
"Yeah, let's go," says Harry, brightening up, "and I can ask him how come he never mentioned Black when he told me all about my parents!"
Further discussion of Sirius Black plainly isn't what Ron has in mind. "Or we could have a game of chess," he says hastily, "or Gobstones. Percy left a set —"
"Harry…" I warn.
"Don't worry guys I'm just curious now. No, let's visit Hagrid," says Harry firmly.
So we get our cloaks from our dormitories and set off through the portrait hole ("Stand and fight, you yellow-bellied mongrels!"), down through the empty castle and out through the oak front doors.
We make our way slowly down the lawn, making a shallow trench in the glittering, powdery snow, our socks and the hems of our cloaks soaked and freezing. The Forbidden Forest looks as though it has been enchanted, each tree smattered with silver, and Hagrid's cabin looks like an iced cake. I would almost be relaxed if I didn't know what conversation was coming up.
Ron knocks, but there is no answer. "He's not out, is he?" says Hermione, who is shivering under her cloak. I'm shivering as well still not quite feeling recovered from yesterday. Ron has his ear to the door.
"There's a weird noise," he says. "Listen — is that Fang?" Harry, Hermione, and I put our ears to the door too. From inside the cabin comes a series of low, throbbing moans.
"Think we'd better go and get someone?" asks Ron nervously.
"Hagrid!" I call, thumping the door. "Hagrid, are you in there?" I'm starting to become worried for the half giant.
There is a sound of heavy footsteps, then the door creaks open. Hagrid stands there with his eyes red and swollen, tears splashing down the front of his leather vest.
"Yeh've heard?" he bellows, and he flings himself onto my neck. Hagrid being at least twice the size of a normal man, this is no laughing matter. I'm about to collapse under Hagrid's weight, and I'm rescued by Ron, Harry, and Hermione, who each seize Hagrid under an arm and heave him back into the cabin. Hagrid allows himself to be steered into a chair and slumps over the table, sobbing uncontrollably, his face glazed with tears that drip down into his tangled beard.
"Hagrid, what is it?" asks Hermione, aghast.
Harry spots an official-looking letter lying open on the table. "What's this, Hagrid?"
Hagrid's sobs redouble, but he shoves the letter towards Harry, who picks it up and reads aloud:
Dear Mr. Hagrid,
Further to our inquiry into the attack by a hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident.
"Well, that's okay then, Hagrid!" I say, clapping Hagrid on the shoulder. But Hagrid continues to sob, and waves one of his gigantic hands, inviting Harry to read on.
However, we must register our concern about the hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and your hippogriff at the Committee's offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated.
Yours in fellowship . . .
There following is a list of the school governors.
"Oh," says Ron. "But you said Buckbeak isn't a bad hippogriff, Hagrid. I bet he'll get off —"
"Yeh don' know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures!" chokes Hagrid, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "They've got it in fer interestin' creatures!" I'm instantly infuriated for any creature that attacks Malfoy for being a gigantic prat is a creature that deserves to live!
A sudden sound from the corner of Hagrid's cabin makes Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I whip around. Buckbeak the hippogriff is lying in the corner, chomping on something that is oozing blood all over the floor.
"I couldn' leave him tied up out there in the snow!" chokes Hagrid. "All on his own! At Christmas."
We look at each other. We have never seen eye to eye with Hagrid about what he calls "interesting creatures" and other people call "terrifying monsters." On the other hand, there doesn't seem to be any particular harm in Buckbeak. In fact, by Hagrid's usual standards, he is positively cute.
"You'll have to put up a good strong defense, Hagrid," says Hermione, sitting down and laying a hand on Hagrid's massive forearm. "I'm sure you can prove Buckbeak is safe."
"Won't make no diff'rence!" sobs Hagrid. "Them Disposal devils, they're all in Lucius Malfoy's pocket! Scared o' him! An' if I lose the case, Buckbeak —"
Hagrid draws his finger swiftly across his throat, then gives a great wail and lurches forward, his face in his arms. "Well that doesn't mean that we don't try anyway Hagrid." I tell him attempting to console him.
"What about Dumbledore, Hagrid?" asks Harry.
"He's done more'n enough fer me already," groans Hagrid. "Got enough on his plate what with keepin' them dementors outta the castle, an' Sirius Black lurkin' around —"
Ron and Hermione look quickly at Harry, as though expecting him to start berating Hagrid for not telling him the truth about Black. But Harry seems unable bring himself to do it, not now that he sees Hagrid so miserable and scared. I'm silently thanking Merlin for this.
"Listen, Hagrid," he says, "you can't give up. Hermione's right, you just need a good defense. You can call us as witnesses —"
"I'm sure I've read about a case of hippogriff-baiting," says Hermione thoughtfully, "where the hippogriff got off. I'll look it up for you, Hagrid, and see exactly what happened."
Hagrid howls still more loudly. Harry and Hermione look at Ron and I to help them.
"Er — shall I make a cup of tea?" asks Ron. Harry stares at him. "It's what my mum does whenever someone's upset," Ron mutters, shrugging.
"I'll help. Make sure you don't burn the place down." I say going with Ron over to the tiny kitchenette part of the hut.
At last, after many more assurances of help, with a steaming mug of tea in front of him, Hagrid bloes his nose on a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth and says, "Yer right. I can' afford to go ter pieces. Gotta pull meself together. . . ."
Fang the boarhound comes timidly out from under the table and lays his head on Hagrid's knee. "I've not bin meself lately," says Hagrid, stroking Fang with one hand and mopping his face with the other. "Worried abou' Buckbeak, an' no one likin' me classes —"
"We do like them!" lies Hermione at once.
"Yeah, they're great!" says Ron, crossing his fingers under the table. "Er — how are the flobberworms?"
"Dead," says Hagrid gloomily. "Too much lettuce."
"Oh no!" I say, my lip twitching.
"An' them dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an' all," says Hagrid, with a sudden shudder. "Gotta walk past 'em ev'ry time I want a drink in the Three Broomsticks. 'S like bein' back in Azkaban —"
He falls silent, gulping his tea. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I watch him breathlessly. We have never heard Hagrid talk about his brief spell in Azkaban before. After a pause, Hermione says timidly, "Is it awful in there, Hagrid?"
"Yeh've no idea," says Hagrid quietly. "Never bin anywhere like it. Thought I was goin' mad. Kep' goin' over horrible stuff in me mind . . . the day I got expelled from Hogwarts . . . day me dad died . . . day I had ter let Norbert go. . . ."
His eyes fill with tears. Norbert was the baby dragon Hagrid had once won in a game of cards. I shiver thinking about Augustus being in there and how much more deranged he must be becoming there. I shudder at the thought if he ever escapes.
"Yeh can' really remember who yeh are after a while. An' yeh can' see the point o' livin' at all. I used ter hope I'd jus' die in me sleep. . . . When they let me out, it was like bein' born again, ev'rythin' came floodin' back, it was the bes' feelin' in the world. Mind, the dementors weren't keen on lettin' me go."
"But you were innocent!" cries Hermione. Hagrid snorts.
"Think that matters to them? They don' care. Long as they've got a couple o' hundred humans stuck there with 'em, so they can leech all the happiness out of 'em, they don' give a damn who's guilty an' who's not."
Hagrid goes quiet for a moment, staring into his tea. Then he says quietly, "Thought o' jus' letting Buckbeak go . . . tryin' ter make him fly away . . . but how d'yeh explain ter a hippogriff it's gotta go inter hidin'? An' — an' I'm scared o' breakin' the law. . . ." He looks up at us, tears leaking down his face again. "I don' ever want ter go back ter Azkaban."
"You're never going to Hagrid. Not if we have something to say about it first." I tell him firmly sure about that as I've been. "I share power over House Pendragon with my brother. We hold seat on the Wizengamot. You will never go back." I tell him firmly.
Hagrid looks at me with a grateful look on his face. "Thank you Jamie." Hagrid tells me sincerely.
The trip to Hagrid's, though far from fun, had nevertheless has the effect Ron and Hermione had hoped. Though Harry has by no means forgotten about Black, he can't brood constantly on revenge if he wants to help Hagrid win his case against the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I go to the library the next day and return to the empty common room laden with books that might help prepare a defense for Buckbeak. The four of us sit in front of the roaring fire, slowly turning the pages of dusty volumes about famous cases of marauding beasts, speaking occasionally when we run across something relevant.
"Here's something . . . there was a case in 1722 . . . but the hippogriff was convicted — ugh, look what they did to it, that's disgusting —" I say trying to stop the mental image from coming.
"This might help, look — a manticore savaged someone in 1296, and they let the manticore off — oh — no, that was only because everyone was too scared to go near it. . . ." Ron says grimacing.
Meanwhile, in the rest of the castle, the usual magnificent Christmas decorations have been put up, despite the fact that hardly any of the students remain to enjoy them. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe are strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shine from inside every suit of armor, and the Great Hall is filled with its usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars.
Hogwarts still has to be my favorite place at Christmas time. Everything just looks so magical that I can hardly contain myself. A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervades the corridors, and by Christmas Eve, it has grown so strong that even Scabbers pokes his nose out of the shelter of Ron's pocket to sniff hopefully at the air.
I feel him. Christmas morning I wake up nice and early. I push up from my bed to see a nice pile of presents on the foot of my bed. Grinning I throw back the covers and jump out of bed. I pad over to Hermione's bed, and jump on her startling her from sleep.
"Merry Christmas Mione!" I cry throwing my arms around the yawning girl who starts chuckling.
"Merry Christmas Jamie." She replies. We pull apart and gather up our presents and take them down to the common room meeting Harry and Ron as they're descending the stairs with their presents as well.
"Merry Christmas!" We all exchange greetings, plopping down onto the floor in front of the fire with Crookshanks circling us. We start tearing open our presents. I get a jumper from Luka that says 'Hit Me With Your Best Shot', a broom servicing kit from Kingsley, and a scarf from Ariana with another dragon flying a broom on it. There's a note with Ariana's present: So you don't have to keep borrowing mine Pendragon.
Ron got me some more Quidditch related items, Hermione gave me an advanced book on charms, and Harry gave me more muggle art supplies with a sweet note on how things are going to be different between us now. My last present is a lumpy package that has Mrs. Weasley's loopy writing on it.
"Another sweater from Mum . . . maroon again . . . see if you've got one." Ron says glumly. I open the package and take out a warm red sweater with a dragon on the front of it. I break into a grin, and pull it down over my head. It's soft and warm to the touch, and that makes me smile.
So all in all a good haul this year, we're all done opening our presents when Harry has one last long thin package to open. "What's that?" says Ron, looking over, a freshly unwrapped pair of maroon socks in his hand.
"Dunno . . ." Harry rips the parcel open and gasps as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolls out onto the floor. My eyes go wide as I take in the broomstick. Ron drops his socks and crawls over to Harry for a closer look at the broomstick. I move closer to Harry as well. Is that what I think it is? It can't be… can it?
"I don't believe it," Harry says hoarsely. It is a Firebolt the dream broom that every Quidditch player dreams and drools over respectively. My eyes move from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that make up the tail.
"Who sent it to you?" I ask in a hushed voice.
"Look and see if there's a card," says Harry. Ron rips apart the Firebolt's wrappings.
"Nothing! Blimey, who'd spend that much on you?" Ron asks. That's what I'm wondering. Thank Merlin Hermione has gone back to the library to do more research.
"Well," says Harry, feeling stunned, "I'm betting it wasn't the Dursleys."
"I bet it was Dumbledore," says Ron, now walking around and around the Firebolt, taking in every glorious inch. "He sent you the Invisibility Cloak anonymously. . . ."
"That was my dad's, though," says Harry. "Dumbledore was just passing it on to me. He wouldn't spend hundreds of Galleons on me. He can't go giving students stuff like this —"
"I agree with Harry. This is far too an extravagant gift for Dumbledore." I say.
"That's why he wouldn't say it was from him!" says Ron. "In case some git like Malfoy said it was favoritism. Hey, Harry" — Ron gives a great whoop of laughter — "Malfoy! Wait till he sees you on this! He'll be sick as a pig! This is an international standard broom, this is!"
"I can't believe this," Harry mutters, running a hand along the Firebolt, while Ron sinks back onto the ground, laughing his head off at the thought of Malfoy. "Who — ?"
"I know," says Ron, controlling himself, "I know who it could've been — Lupin!"
"What?" I say, now starting to laugh myself. "Lupin? Listen, if he had this much gold, he'd be able to buy himself some new robes."
"Yeah, but he likes you," says Ron. "And he was away when your Nimbus got smashed, and he might've heard about it and decided to visit Diagon Alley and get this for you —"
"What d'you mean, he was away?" says Harry. "He was ill when I was playing in that match."
"Well, he wasn't in the hospital wing," says Ron. "I was there, cleaning out the bedpans on that detention from Snape, remember?" Harry frowns at Ron.
"I can't see Lupin affording something like this." He says.
Just then Hermione comes back into the common room carrying Crookshanks in her arms. He looks very grumpy with a string of tinsel tied around his neck.
"Don't bring him in here!" says Ron, hurriedly snatching Scabbers from the depths of the wrapping paper and stowing him in his pajama pocket. But Hermione isn't listening. She dropped Crookshanks onto the ground.
"Oh, Harry! Who sent you that?"
"No idea," says Harry. "There wasn't a card or anything with it." To Harry and Ron's great surprise, Hermione does not appear either excited or intrigued by the news. On the contrary, her face falls, and she bites her lip.
"What's the matter with you?" says Ron.
"I don't know," says Hermione slowly, "but it's a bit odd, isn't it? I mean, this is supposed to be quite a good broom, isn't it?"
Ron sighs exasperatedly. "It's the best broom there is, Hermione," he says.
"So it must've been really expensive. . . ."
"Probably cost more than all the Slytherins' brooms put together," says Ron happily. I think I know where Hermione is going with this.
"Well . . . who'd send Harry something as expensive as that, and not even tell him they'd sent it?" says Hermione.
"Who cares?" says Ron impatiently. "Listen, Harry, can I have a go on it? Can I?"
"I don't think anyone should ride that broom just yet!" says Hermione shrilly. Harry and Ron look at her.
"What d'you think Harry's going to do with it — sweep the floor?" says Ron.
But before Hermione can answer, Crookshanks springs from the floor, right at Ron's chest. Oh brother this isn't going to end well. Goodbye peace!
"GET — HIM — OUT — OF — HERE!" Ron bellows as Crookshanks's claws rip his pajamas and Scabbers attempts a wild escape over his shoulder. Ron seizes Scabbers by the tail and aims a misjudged kick at Crookshanks that hit the side table knocking it over and causing Ron to hop up and down, howling with pain.
I tune out most of the fighting watching Ron and Hermione scream at each other who's animal is the one at fault. This argument is really starting to get old between the two of them.
"Why can't the two of them just admit that they actually can stand the other and get on with it?" I ask Harry quietly. Harry chuckles from beside me and shrugs his shoulders at me.
Ron starts complaining about how much weight Scabbers has lost and I roll my eyes. Animals get sick it's a known fact, that rat is ancient as well so I'm really not all that surprised that he's not doing so great.
Christmas spirit is definitely thin on the ground in the Gryffindor common room this morning. Hermione has shut Crookshanks in our dormitory, but is furious with Ron for trying to kick him; Ron is still fuming about Crookshanks's fresh attempt to eat Scabbers. Harry gives up trying to make them talk to each other and devotes himself to examining the Firebolt, which he hasn't let out of his sight. For some reason this seems to annoy Hermione as well; she doesn't say anything, but she keeps looking darkly at the broom as though it too has been criticizing her cat.
I go back and pick up my sketchbook to continue what I was drawing. I look down and blush at what the focus of the drawing is.
At lunchtime we go down to the Great Hall, to find that the House tables have been moved against the walls again, and that a single table, set for fifteen, stands in the middle of the room. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick are there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who has taken off his usual brown coat and is wearing a very old and rather moldy-looking tailcoat. There are only three other students, two extremely nervous-looking first years and a sullen-faced Slytherin fifth year, besides from Ariana Dumbledore, and my brother.
"Merry Christmas!" says Dumbledore as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I approach the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables. . . . Sit down, sit down!"
We sit down side by side at the end of the table and I'm next to my brother.
"Crackers!" says Dumbledore enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver noisemaker to Snape, who takes it reluctantly and tugs. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flies apart to reveal a large, pointed witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture. I can't help but snort into my pumpkin juice.
The look on his face is priceless! Just remembering the boggart makes me catch Ron's eye and we both grin; Snape's mouth thins and he pushes the hat towards Dumbledore, who swaps it for his wizard's hat at once.
"Dig in!" he advises the table, beaming around. As Harry, Ron, and I are helping ourselves to roast potatoes, the doors of the Great Hall open again. It is Professor Trelawney, gliding towards us as though on wheels. She has put on a green sequined dress in honor of the occasion, making her look more than ever like a glittering, oversized dragonfly.
"Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!" says Dumbledore, standing up. I catch the face that Ariana makes at her presence. I snicker and she shoots her gaze to me with a sheepish smile. Leave it to Ariana to feel bad about not liking a person.
"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," says Professor Trelawney in her mistiest, most faraway voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness. . . ."
"Certainly, certainly," says Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Let me draw you up a chair —"
And he does indeed draw a chair in midair with his wand, which revolves for a few seconds before falling with a thud between Professors Snape and McGonagall. Professor Trelawney, however, does not sit down; her enormous eyes have been roving around the table, and she suddenly utteres a kind of soft scream.
"I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be sixteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when sixteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"
"We'll risk it, Sybill," says Professor McGonagall impatiently. "Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold."
Professor Trelawney hesitates, then lowers herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table. Professor McGonagall pokes a large spoon into the nearest tureen. "Tripe, Sybill?"
Professor Trelawney ignores her. Eyes open again, she looks around once more and said, "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"
"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," says Dumbledore, indicating that everybody should start serving themselves. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."
"But surely you already knew that, Sybill?" says Professor McGonagall, her eyebrows raised. Okay so there is some tension going on between McGonagall and Trelawney here.
Professor Trelawney gives Professor McGonagall a very cold look. "Certainly I knew, Minerva," she says quietly. "But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."
"That explains a great deal," says Professor McGonagall tartly. Professor Trelawney's voice suddenly becomes a good deal less misty.
"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him —"
"Imagine that," says Professor McGonagall dryly. Okay this is better than those moving pictures shows that Harry goes on about all the time.
"I doubt," says Dumbledore, in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which puts an end to Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney's conversation, "that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"
"Yes, Headmaster," says Snape. Hmm curious.
"Good," says Dumbledore. "Then he should be up and about in no time. . . . Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent."
The first-year boy turns furiously red on being addressed directly by Dumbledore, and takes the platter of sausages with trembling hands.
Professor Trelawney behaves almost normally until the very end of Christmas dinner, two hours later. Full to bursting with Christmas dinner and still wearing their party hats, Harry and Ron get up first from the table and she shrieks loudly.
"My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?"
"Dunno," says Ron, looking uneasily at Harry.
"I doubt it will make much difference," says Professor McGonagall coldly, "unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the entrance hall."
Even Ron laughs. Professor Trelawney looks highly affronted. "Coming?" Harry says to Hermione and me.
"No," Hermione mutters, "I want a quick word with Professor McGonagall."
"I want to say Merry Christmas to Luka and Ariana." I tell them waving the boys off. I shoot Hermione an odd look but she firmly refuses to meet my gaze. Luka and Ariana get up from the table, and I join them as they leave the great hall. Luka has on his Weasley sweater, which is a emerald blue with the same dragon on it that mine is.
"Merry Christmas guys!" I tell them, hugging my brother tightly.
"Same as well Jamie. This has been an exhausting year hasn't it?" Luka says stretching out and heaving a yawn. "Sorry 'bout that I stayed up late last night reading my book on this fascinating French wizard who…" Luka starts but trails off.
"You know probably too boring for you. Well I need to hit the sack. See you tomorrow Jamie!" Luka says giving me another hug and Ariana as well. Then he turns and starts up the stairs that will lead to Ravenclaw tower. So now it's just Ariana and me standing here in the corridor.
I shift nervously and dig into the pocket of my pants. "So I know that I already got you a gift…" I say nervously.
"Yes I love the little plush phoenix that you've made to go along with my badger!" Ariana exclaims beaming me a bright smile. I grin at her softly and take out the folded sheet of paper.
"Here… I was messing around with my drawings and this just… sorta happened and I think that you should have it." I tell her quickly. Ariana takes the paper from my hands and unfolds it. She freezes when she sees what's on the paper. Slowly she brings her gaze up to mine.
"Jamie this is beautiful? Did you draw this from memory?" She asks me softly. I glance down at the paper that has a picture of her drawn in pencil on it when she was all bundled up out in the snow. I nod my head.
"I-I just want you to know because I don't think that you do already that… we are friends Ariana. I-I just thought that you should know that." I finish lamely feeling a blush coming to my cheeks because I'm an idiot. Ariana smiles hugely at me, and takes me in her arms for a tight hug.
"Thank you Jamie, and Merry Christmas." She tells me. I return the greeting and we part ways, her to her dormitory and me to mine. I hop up the last steps and a drunk Sir Cadogan blushes at me, and swings the portrait open. When I come out into the common room I stop dead.
I was definitely not expecting this. "So that's it, is it?" says Professor McGonagall beadily, walking over to the fireside and staring at the Firebolt. "Miss Granger has just informed me that you have been sent a broomstick, Potter." Wait that's why McGonagall is here?
Harry, Ron, and I look around at Hermione. We can see her forehead reddening over the top of her book, which is upside down.
"May I?" says Professor McGonagall, but she doesn't wait for an answer before pulling the Firebolt out of their hands. She examins it carefully from handle to twig-ends. "Hmm. And there was no note at all, Potter? No card? No message of any kind?"
Oh this isn't going to be good. Merlin help us! I'm never going to be able to sleep again! "No," says Harry blankly.
"I see . . . ," says Professor McGonagall. "Well, I'm afraid I will have to take this, Potter."
"W-what?" says Harry, scrambling to his feet. "Why?"
"It will need to be checked for jinxes," says Professor McGonagall. "Of course, I'm no expert, but I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip it down —"
"Strip it down?" repeat Ron and I, as though Professor McGonagall is mad, which she very well might be.
"It shouldn't take more than a few weeks," says Professor McGonagall. "You will have it back if we are sure it is jinx-free." Oh no! This was our chance to ride a Firebolt and win some games!
"There's nothing wrong with it!" says Harry, his voice shaking slightly. "Honestly, Professor —"
"You can't know that, Potter," says Professor McGonagall, quite kindly, "not until you've flown it, at any rate, and I'm afraid that is out of the question until we are certain that it has not been tampered with. I shall keep you informed."
Professor McGonagall turns on her heel and carries the Firebolt out of the portrait hole, which closes behind her. Harry stands staring after her, the tin of High-Finish Polish still clutched in his hands. Ron, however, rounds on Hermione.
"What did you go running to McGonagall for?" Hermione throws her book aside. She is still pink in the face, but stands up and faces Ron defiantly.
"Because I thought — and Professor McGonagall agrees with me — that that broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!" And a Merry Christmas to no one.