"Come on," said Ron, as Harry stared down at his breakfast. "Eat something."
"I'm not hungry," Harry mumbled. Indeed, his stomach seemed to have twisted itself into a knot.
"She was too bossy anyway. Forget her," Ron insisted, looking quickly over at Hermione, who was on the other side of the table at least two feet away, avoiding Harry's eyes and talking to Ron's brother Percy instead. They hadn't walked down to breakfast together as usual; in fact, they hadn't spoken since last night. Harry had only known Hermione for a few months, but without her, his life felt strangely empty.
"I can't forget her," Harry told Ron in a voice a little higher than usual, trying to block the awful feeling of crying. It took literally all of his self-control to keep his tears from reaching his eyes. Ron was shooting nasty glares in Hermione's direction when many post owls streamed into the Great Hall, as usual.
"Look! The mail's here!" Ron yelled, clearly thankful for something that might distract Harry.
"So what?" Harry mumbled, but that was when six screech owls fluttered to the Gryffindor table and dropped a long, thin package right in front of Harry. He recognized it instantly as his broomstick, and his heart rose just a little. Hedwig turned up too, and dropped a note on top of the parcel. Harry recognized it as Sirius's handwriting.
Harry—
This is your Nimbus Two Thousand, here from London. Professor McGonagall says your training starts in one week. I'm still extremely proud of you.
Sirius
Harry should have been happy, but upon reading the note, he really did feel tears coming to his eyes this time. He just stared at the note, reading the last line over and over again: I'm still extremely proud of you.Ron, who had no shattered heart, was chomping on bacon and looking at Harry in disbelief.
"What is up with you?" he demanded.
"Nothing." Harry put his face in his hands.
"You don't want Hermione to see you upset, do you?" Ron hissed. "Just act like it's not bothering you!"
"How can I do that?"
"Look—forget this!" Ron took Harry's hands off his face, pulled him up, and, grabbing the parcel, dragged him over to the Slytherin table. "I've got something that's bound to cheer you up!"
"Like what?" Harry whispered. "Be quiet, why don't you? We're right near the Slytherins!"
"Exactly," Ron told him. "Now we can get back at Malfoy for nearly getting us killed last night."
They walked over to where Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were sitting.
"Hmm," said Ron loudly. "I wonder what could be in that package?"
Malfoy had already noticed the package, along with the rest of the school, so his white-blonde head swiveled around to look at them. He clambered out of his seat and marched over to Harry and Ron, his lackeys close behind.
"I know what's in that package," Malfoy said furiously. "It's a broomstick. You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."
"It's not any old broomstick," said Ron, nudging Harry and grinning, obviously hoping Harry would grin too, or at least show some faint sign of happiness. "It's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty? Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."
Malfoy looked like he was about to explode, but instead he tattled to the next teacher he saw, who happened to be Sirius.
"Sirius! Sirius! Potter's got a broom!" Malfoy squawked.
"That's Professor Black to you, Malfoy," Sirius snapped, his eyes narrowing in dislike.
"You said in class we could call you Sirius," Malfoy protested.
"Yeah, well, not today," Sirius told him, arms crossed. "And didn't that father of yours ever teach you that it's rude to talk back to an adult?"
"My parents have told me all about you," said Malfoy, his normally-pale face turning pink. "You're my mother's cousin—and she says you betrayed the proper pureblood order."
"Five points from Slytherin, and if I ever hear you talking about that pureblood rubbish again, it will be fifty!" Sirius barked.
"Come on now, Sirius," said Ron, beaming. "It's thanks to Malfoy here that Harry has this broom at all."
"Hmm…you may be right," Sirius replied. "So, now, what model is it?"
"Why, it's a Nimbus Two Thousand," Ron repeated, so everyone could hear. "Harry's got a NIMBUS TWO THOUSAND."
Now everyone was turning to look. Malfoy glared at the three of them for a moment, then stalked back to the Slytherin table. Harry heard some Slytherins ask Malfoy if Harry's broom was really a Nimbus Two Thousand.
"Looking forward to seeing you play, Harry," Sirius said, clapping Harry on the shoulder, then striding back up to the High Table to finish breakfast.
"Thanks," said Harry, smiling at Ron. "I needed that. After all, you're right—if it weren't for Malfoy and the Remembrall, I wouldn't be on the team at all."
"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?"
They turned around. It was Hermione, looking almost as angry as Malfoy.
"Don't start speaking to us again," Ron told her. "The silent treatment is doing us so much good."
"Cut it out, mate," Harry mumbled. He knew Ron was angry with Hermione on his behalf, but his heart had already sunken again.
"You two! Someday your rule-breaking will catch up with you, and you'll have something to think about on the train ride home!" Hermione snapped. Before either Harry or Ron could say anything back, she had turned on her heel and left.
"OY!" Ron yelled after her, his ears red as Hermione's face, but she didn't turn back.
…
It was hard for Harry to keep his mind on school that day. He barely noticed when Snape paused to sneer at his overly runny Acne-Curing Draught, and when they got to Care of Magical Creatures, the sweetness of the animals they were studying (Clabberts, a sort of cross between a monkey and a frog) was almost too much for him to take.
When class was dismissed for the day, Sirius didn't give them any homework (he rarely did). Hermione rushed past Harry and Ron without looking at them. Harry, hanging his head low, was about to follow Ron into the castle when he felt someone's hand on his shoulder.
"Hey," said Sirius. "You all right?"
"I'm fine," Harry mumbled, sticking his hands in the pockets of his robes.
"Don't be silly." Sirius put his arm around Harry. "What's the problem?"
"It's nothing," Harry insisted, but his voice broke.
"Come on," Sirius told him. "Thanks to Professor Kettleburn and his missing limbs, my teacher's quarters are on the first floor."
Harry shook his head. There was no way he was going to tell Sirius what happened with their discovery of the three-headed dog. He was so not in the mood for a lecture right now—besides, he didn't need Sirius to tell him last night could have gotten them killed, or worse, expelled. Hermione had already done that.
"You don't have to talk about it," Sirius told him. "Just visit with me for a bit."
Professor Kettleburn had indeed requested a room on the ground floor, since it was harder to go up and down stairs when you didn't have all your arms and legs. So it wasn't long before Sirius and Harry reached the teacher's quarters that now belonged to Sirius.
When they got inside, Harry just sat numbly on the couch, Sirius sitting next to him. It was a long time before either of them spoke.
"I'm okay," said Harry, in a voice that sounded nothing like his own.
"I know you're not," Sirius said back, but he didn't say anything else. Harry knew his godfather didn't like to pry. But sometimes he wished he would.
"Really, I'm fine," Harry repeated.
"If you say so." Sirius sighed, then gestured to the blank wall in front of them. "I'm sorry we can't watch TV or anything. There's too much magic in the air, you know…"
"T-TV?"
Suddenly Harry's memories were flooded with images of the hours he had spent with Hermione on the phone, watching cheesy soap operas and commenting on how stupid they were…how he'd racked up the phone bill so high in just a month, because he loved hearing her voice on the other end…how he especially loved it when she said his name.
But all those times were over now.
Without warning, something broke free and finally Harry found he had started to cry. One moment later Sirius had scooped him up and was trying to console him; Harry was staining the front of Sirius's steely-gray robes with tears. Sirius let Harry cry himself into silence, then spoke.
"Did something go wrong between you and Hermione?" he asked softly.
Harry just nodded mutely, too distraught to ask how on Earth Sirius knew this.
"Oh, I'm sorry, mate," Sirius said sadly. "I was hoping you wouldn't have to go through this so soon."
"It's all over," Harry told him, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "She was so great. I was just glad she existed—and now it's all over."
"I could make you some of Euphemia's famous hot chocolate," Sirius offered tentatively. "How does that sound?"
All that did was remind Harry of the night Hermione had visited the flat and he had only one can of soda so he made her a glass of water, and even used a Hover Charm to give it to her. And then she had leaned her head on his shoulder and they had fallen asleep watching North to Alaska, which Harry remembered none of, because he had been focused too much on the wonderful, unique, brilliant girl watching the movie with him. Harry thought he had cried himself all out, but as this memory resurfaced, he was bawling his eyes out once more.
"Okay, no," Sirius muttered.
"Why, Sirius?" Harry cried. "Why did it have to happen?!"
"Women will hurt you sometimes, bad," Sirius said quietly. "I know it's hard. But if there's anything I can do, anything at all—"
"I want Hermione back!" Harry wailed, knowing full-well that he was a mess, but he didn't care.
"Oh, Harry," said Sirius miserably, rubbing Harry's back. "I wish I could bring her back. I wish I could take your pain away from you—I wish I could feel it for you. But I can't. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
"Well, I am too!"
"People will tell you a lot of things, like that this will help you grow as a person, or that there are plenty of fish in the sea," Sirius said. "But nobody wants to hear that garbage. Love sucks. Life sucks. Cry it out."
It was truly horrible. Every time one beautiful memory was shoved away, a different one would surface, and the realization that he and Hermione were through would not leave Harry's mind. So he cried until the world around him turned red. He lost track of time; he was like a butterbeer bottle that had suddenly been uncorked.
When Harry was finally sure his eyes were not physically capable of producing any more tears, he leaned on Sirius's shoulder and stared at the wall.
"D'you want me to send for dinner?" Sirius asked finally. "I expect you don't feel like going to the Great Hall tonight."
Harry nodded. Sirius rang a little bell on the nightstand, and moments later, a house-elf Apparated into the teacher's quarters.
"How did you hear that from the kitchens?" Harry was curious in spite of himself.
"Ah, 'tis a magical bell, sir," the house-elf replied in a squeaky voice. "Whenever a teacher rings one, another rings in the kitchen, and the house-elves, they knows which teacher to go to, sir."
"Could you fetch us some dinner, please?" Sirius asked. "We can have whatever Harry wants."
Harry asked the house-elf for pizza, along with plenty of treacle tart, and then he told Sirius he would be okay with some of his grandmother's hot chocolate after all. As they sat there, finishing off the rest of the treacle tart and drinking hot chocolate, Harry realized again how thankful he was for his godfather.
"Thanks, Sirius," he said quietly.
"Don't mention it, Prongslet," Sirius said, giving Harry another hug, and Harry was glad to hear the nickname used again.
…
Will everything turn out okay? Can Harry and Hermione possibly set things right? Find out in the next installment of Harry Potter and the Dogfather, coming soon.