Hermione found Harry one morning cooing over a small bird, wrapped in a towel.
"Harry, where did you get that?" she asked, curious.
"He was a gift from my parents. He only hatched a couple of days ago, and he's already doubled in size," Harry said proudly. "Dad thinks he might be big enough to ride on in a couple of years!"
"R-ride on?!" Hermione stuttered. "What type of bird is that?"
Harry grinned. "A Jubjub bird. Of course, I'm going to have to train him to be less...murder-y than the original Jubjub bird, but mum, Maddy and I have high hopes. Dads still doubtful, but he's coming around."
Creeping closer, Hermione peered over Harry's shoulder at the small bird. "Isn't Jubjub bird an old name for-" She blanched. "Harry, that's an occamy!"
"Is that what wizards call it?" Harry asked absently. "What an odd name."
"It's- oh, for goodness sakes Harry, occamy birds are deadly!" She scolded, exasperated.
He nodded, still petting the small chick. "I know; this one's parent gave mum quite a bit of trouble. They can be very loyal if you treat them right, though."
Hermione stared at him for a moment and sighed. "Breakfast?"
"Sure," he said happily, bundling Jilib up to take with them. "I'll bring the tea."
"Hello Draco!" Harry chirped, waving at the Slytherin table. Draco slid down his seat, slouching over to make himself less noticeable.
Hermione rolled her eyes, dragging him over to sit next to Ron.
"Flying lessons this morning!" Ron said with an excited grin. "Should be wicked; it's a shame we can't try for the team this year."
Harry nodded happily, passing Ron and Hermione a cup of tea each. Hermione eyed the broken half-a-cup, but it seemed to be holding the tea just fine. "What will they have us fly on? I'm afraid Jilib is far too young yet."
"Yeah, I see that," Ron said, eyeing the chick in Harry's lap with some amusement. "But nah, they'll just have us flying the school brooms."
Neville came to sit opposite them. "O-oh, I'm not sure at all about this." He muttered. "I've never flown before."
"It'll be right as white roses," Harry said reassuringly. "We'll all be there to help out, you'll see."
"Place your hand over your broom," Madam Hooche shouted. "And say 'up'."
Harry frowned. "That sounds rather uncourteous," he muttered. "We are after all, asking for their assistance."
"Do what you like, then!" Hermione snapped after failing to do more than make her broom twitch.
Placing his hand outwards, Harry looked down at the broom. "Twigged and polished sir," he started, remembering his lessons with Aunt Miranda. "I humbly ask for your assistance in flight."
The broom on the ground fluffed its bristles and floated regally upwards, expelling a sense of smug agreement. Hermione's broom bristled in irritation.
"Wicked," Ron breathed, looking at the broom. "Mate, you'll have to teach me that."
Harry grinned. "I honestly didn't think all those etiquette lessons would pay off."
"Eti- uh, never mind." Ron said, paling.
"Alright, class," barked Madam Hooche. "On my mark, push off gently, hover for a few seconds, then come back down. On my mark, get set-"
Before she could blow the whistle, Neville pushed off, far too fast and far too hard. He rocketed upwards with a yelp, and the old broom shuddered and stilled.
"He's going to fall!" One of the Gryffindor girls shrieked. Sure enough, Neville plummeted down and landed with a sickening crack.
Madam Hooche hurried over. "Anyone on their brooms before I come back will be expelled before you can say Quiddich!" She shouted behind her, before taking Neville to Madame Pomphrey.
The students shuffled for a moment, before Draco stooped to pick a glass ball from the ground.
"Look at this," he said, smirking. "Longbottom's dropped his pathetic rememberall!"
Harry didn't notice. Harry was cooing at a very young bird that had tottered out to find him. "Who's a good boy, then," he said to Jillib
"Give it back, Malfoy!" Ron shouted, taking a step forward. Harry didn't look up.
Later, Harry was told, with a mixture of exasperation and bafflement, that he had missed the high-speed air chase, of which the teachers undoubtedly knew about but could find no evidence for. The outcome became more and more ridiculous with each retelling, but Neville did get his rememberall back.
It was Halloween. Ron was sitting slumped low in his set, looking horribly guilty, while Harry sat next to him radiating an almost arrogant disapproval.
After hearing Ron's mean spirited comment, and seeing Hermione's reaction to it, Harry had channelled his mother at her most disappointed, and Harry's searing cold lecture had made Ron feel half an inch tall.
They had meant to find her, but had not known where she was until the feast, when they were informed that she was crying in the bathroom.
"Troll! Troll in the dungeon!" being shouted by professor Quirrel did a remarkable job derailing their thoughts.
Harry looked at Ron wide-eyed. "Hermione's there!"
Ron hesitated. "Oh, fine," he said, worry thinly veiled by faked irritation.
As the students filed out, the two slipped away, becoming more and more tense as they neared the bathroom. Ron shivered, and wondering why looked over at Harry. He had never seen him look so serious or cold, not even that morning. For a second, Ron almost felt sorry for the troll.
Harry grabbed a sword from a nearby suit of armour, and took off at a run.
The teachers burst in to find two traumatised students and one victorious one, all three covered in troll blood. Professor MaGonagall let out a short shriek at the sight of a troll's head, separate from the troll body.
Harry started wiping the sword with a rag torn from his robe, panting. "Never have I found myself so grateful for combat lessons."
"Mr Potter-!" McGonagall began, only to be interrupted by the boy collapsing into a dead faint.
"Is he okay?" Hermione asked, worry making her voice high pitched.
Snape knelt down and cast a quick spell. "The boy is unharmed," he said irritably. "The idiotic dudderhead simply overexerted himself."
Hermione and Ron exchanged a concerned glance, and followed along behind McGonnigal as she levitated Harry to the hospital wing. They would look after their friend, no matter what would come their way.
"Harry?" Hermione asked gently. "Are you...okay?"
it had been a while since the troll. Hermione had relaxed somewhat, but was still frequently baffled by the oddity that was Harry Hightop. Said oddity was currently looking quite fed-up.
"Mppfff" mumbled Harry, face down on a couch. He lifted his head a little. "Time is in an awful mood about something; he acted ever so strangely when I told him of Hogwarts during tea time. Jabbered on about stones and stolen time like a mome rath on Brillig day."
Having long ago given up asking about Harry's odd sayings, Hermione said musingly "I wonder if it has anything to do with what Fluffy is guarding."
"Probably," Harry said morosely. "But if Time is so bothered by it, we'd do well to leave the whole business be."
"You're not at all curious?" Asked Hermione, surprised. Harry usually wanted to know everything about everything.
He gave a vague half shrug, Jillib chirping irritably from where he was curled up against his shoulder. "Mum's worried there'll be something in the Arraculum scroll. I can't say I'm too eager to find out; the peace and quiet here is growing on me."
Hermione stifled a laugh. Only Harry would describe befriending a cerberus, dealing with Snape's pettiness and killing a troll as 'peace and quiet'.