Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Buckbeak's Legal Defense

My feet dragged heavily as I walked down the stairs into the common room. It was late. Post house-elves cleaning late. No natural light shined from the windows to fill the space. There were still several hours before dawn. Yawning, my attention was drawn to the dying embers in the fireplace. That would have to do for company until Fred and George woke up. Except, a low murmur of voices had me rethinking that plan. Inching closer on silent feet, I recognized the three people occupying the best couch in the common room. "What are you three doing up?" I asked. Causing three heads to snap in my direction.

The most composed of the group was Hermione as she strained her neck to look at me; eyes scrutinizing my intrusion. Meanwhile, Harry's eyes were wide and startled as he went through the motions of being surprised and recognizing who had spoken. Ron, being the special bean he is, jumped out of his seat and crashed to the floor. Really, he was one of eight. You'd think he'd be used to sibling interruptions by now. "Thanks, Ron", I said; taking advantage of his reaction to steal his spot on the couch. An action that placed me next to Hermione.

"We can ask you the same thing", Hermione said in reference to my question that started this whole exchange.

"Nightmare", I answered, shrugging to keep it casual. No need to draw attention to my chronic terror. Especially tonight, where the mysterious redheaded woman had made another appearance.

With his eyebrows slanted inwards, Ron pointed an aggressive finger between Hermione's head and mine towards the staircase that leads to the boys' dormitory. "Fred and George are that way", he informed me.

I chose to ignore that comment. Mostly because I didn't want to go into why I am no longer seeking out comfort from my fellow triplets after murder dreams. "So, what's going on?" I asked again. Because whatever these three were up to in the early hours of the morning was going to be more interesting than me staring at the ceiling until it was time to begin the day.

"Nothing", Ron was quick to assure me in a gruff tone.

"Ron", I started; leaning towards him as if I was going to let him in on a secret. "When someone says nothing, nine times out of ten it's not nothing". I mean, teenagers have probably been telling people nothing is going on for centuries. And we all know that isn't true.

Scoffing, Ron looked quite content to dig his heels in and not let me join the late-night meeting. Luckily, his friends didn't share his opinion. "Maybe she can help us", Harry suggested from the other side of Hermione.

I couldn't resist goading my little brother. "Yeah, Ron. Maybe I can help". Suddenly, I felt more awake than I was when I dragged myself down the stairs. Just what was the golden trio up to? Sneaking into Hogsmeade? Spying on Snape? Resurrecting the dead?

"It's Holly", Ron argued, gesturing in my direction. "She's just going to make fun of us".

Meh…. He wasn't wrong. But a big deciding point on whether I would actually make fun of them is based on what they were doing. Before I could deny or confirm Ron's claim, Hermione spoke up. "She's faced the Wizengamot before. I think Harry is right".

If my interest hadn't peaked before it definitely was at the mention of the high court. "Wizengamot?" I asked; seeking more information. "Why? What did you three do?" There was humor in my voice as I prepared to tell myself that anything this lot had done was most assuredly something that didn't require law enforcement and a court date….. At least, not until they were a bit older.

"We didn't do anything", Ron was quick to defend. He was looking me right in the eyes, so I believed him.

But he didn't need to know that. "Uh-huh", I verbalized in my best sarcastic tone.

There was a small sound of shifting embers coming from the fireplace as the corner of Ron's lips turned downwards. Always one to take the bait, he opened his mouth. No doubt to prove me wrong. However, having been exposed to the Weasleys far more than the average soul, Hermione put a stop to our endearing sibling bickering before it could even get started. "This isn't about us. It's about Buckbeak and Hagrid".

My amusement died a little. "Oh", I said; adopting a more serious tone. And then, as a student not taking care of magical creatures, I had to ask, "Buckbeak is Hagrid's hippogriff, right?" Because, as far as the golden trio is aware, everything I know about current events shouldn't be in great detail.

"Yeah", Ron confirmed as Harry and Hermione nodded along.

"So, Hagrid has to go before the Wizengamot", I pieced together. The extermination of a magical creature felt like an issue that shouldn't even be on the high court's radar. But it had been Malfoy Sr.'s son who had been the victim (and I use that term lightly). I wouldn't put it past Malfoy Sr. to make this case out to be something more than it actually is. And then…. A thought occurred to me. "You do know I was just testifying when I had to go to court, right? I wasn't on trial". Because it suddenly became really important to me that they knew I wasn't accused of anything.

"Of course", Hermione assured me with an air of impatience. Meanwhile, Ron was eyeing me with a silent comment on his face that read, 'just give it time'. Git.

I turned my attention to Harry; the only one who wasn't being impatient or giving me an attitude. "Why do you think I can help?" And that was the golden question. I had only testified once and even then I hadn't been very good at it.

"You had help", Harry began to explain; casting looks at his two friends to see if any of them would step in and explain. But they didn't and Harry was left with the burden. Good. The chosen one needed to learn how to be more vocal. "Adrian said…. There was a lawyer telling you what to say…. The best in the business".

Adrian talked to Harry about the legal events of last year? Why? "Lord Flint?" I asked more to myself than them.

But Harry answered, anyway. "Yeah. Do you think you could write to him and ask him to help Hagrid?"

I blinked twice. Ask Lord Flint to represent Hagrid? The idea and chances of that happening were mind-boggling. I was finding myself stumped just by the thought of Flint Sr. and Hagrid exchanging words. Let alone engaging in a client-attorney relationship. Slowly, I shook my head. "I could try". Although…. I wasn't sure if I wanted to. "But I'm not sure what Flint would be willing". Hagrid's ordeal was probably small potatoes for Flint Sr. "Does Hagrid even have money for a lawyer?"

"He took your case, and your family isn't…." Hermione started to say but trailed off after looking in Ron's direction; knowing our family's financial status was a sore spot for the boy.

"Flint accepted it as a pro bono case", I quickly explained. And then slowed down to elaborate before Hermione could insist he could do the same for their half-giant friend. "And I'm pretty sure he only did so because Adrian and his parents asked him to". Which was a relationship I was still fuzzy about.

Hermione looked at Harry. "Maybe we should ask Adrian at the next SPEW meeting". SPEW was still going on? And Adrian was still attending? My boyfriend was both a prefect and a member of an organization that was working towards the liberation of house-elves. It was hard to believe. Especially considering past lives and all the dark magic Adrian knew. The main hats of Adrian Pucey. That could be a book.

Harry shrugged as he considered the idea. But he made no comment about accepting the plan. Instead, Harry focused on me. "Could you try?" He asked; his genuine green eyes bored into me. "Adrian said that Flint's dad…" Harry paused and bit his lip as if he was thinking. As if he was editing whatever Adrian had told him. Knowing my lovely boyfriend, it was probably something mildly insulting. " Flint's dad thinks you're funny".

Well… the feelings weren't mutual. But Harry's well-meaning intentions were doing things to me that were crumbling any resolve I had. Thank Merlin Ron and Ginny didn't possess the same innocence. Otherwise, I'd be screwed. "Fine", I caved; rolling my eyes so they didn't get the impression I wasn't completely giving in. "But in my experience finding someone funny isn't enough to make people willing to do favors for them".

Every member of the golden trio nodded at my warning. But I'm not sure if any of them accepted it. For a moment we sat in silence; taking turns staring at each other. There wasn't anything left to say now that there was a plan. They should really go to bed. We did have classes in a handful of hours. However, I didn't want to be alone. Yawning, I turned towards Hermione. "So, when are you going to ask my kid brother out on a date?"

Hermione burned brighter than the embers in the fireplace as Ron started to sputter indignantly. Glancing around Hermione, Harry and I made eye contact. It was the slight upturn of Harry's lips that clued me in that maybe he wasn't as innocent as I originally thought.

Sitting at one end of a table in the library with our heads bent over a piece of parchment, Fred, George, and I couldn't stop snickering. "I think you should dot your I's with hearts", Fred commented as he read over what we had gotten down on paper. "It'd really set the tone".

Pondering his suggestion, I looked at Fred. "You don't think that would conflict with our adjective choices?" Because the ones we'd used had all been of the pitiful variety. The type of words that pull on people's heartstrings…. Or, the heartstrings of normal folks.

"Nah", George answered for Fred. "It'll just support that you're a bleeding heart and that you're suggesting he's one too".

I thought about it and so found myself chuckling as I imagined the outcome. "Heart dotted I's it is", I gave in and started going back through the letter to fix every I.

"I can't believe Ronnikins asked you to do this", George commented in mirth. "As if we'd actually take this seriously".

Fred and I shrugged. Maybe we should be feeling more compassion for Hagrid and his pet that was on death row. Maybe writing a lawyer for help shouldn't be a comedic affair. It was a bit callous. But honestly, there were greater things to be concerned about than the life of a hippogriff. Innocent or not. Like Lockhart and Quirrell and finding the diadem and…. And a handful of other things that could lead to the resurrection of You-Know-Who. When you take all that into consideration, it was perfectly reasonable for us to find humor and amusement whenever possible. Besides, according to Harry, Flint Sr. only tolerated me because he found me amusing.

"Technically, it wasn't Ron who asked", I said in defense of our little brother. Not that it would do much good as far as Fred and George were concerned. They'd still find a way to tease him about this; good intentions aside. "Harry asked me. I haven't had the chance to torment him as we've done with Ron. The poor boy doesn't know any better".

"That may be an error in judgment", Fred said as I finished correcting the last I.

George nodded sagely. "How awful of us not to include young Mister Potter as a target of our mischief. Perhaps it's time we should rectify that mistake".

Falling into an old routine, I had no problem playing along. "It would be rude of us to exclude others".

"That's right", Fred agreed; a Cheshire grin blooming across his face. "We should prank everyone equally".

"It's only fair", George added, sporting a grin that matched Fred's

I had a Cheshire grin of my own that wasn't far behind. "But let's start with this esteemed letter-receiver first", I said holding up the finished letter; the overly mocking letter that used ridiculous pose and was roughly inspired by a Disney song. Of course, no one would know that but me. Disney wasn't a household name in wizarding families like it was in muggle ones.

"I know I shouldn't ask", a voice broke in from the other side of the library table. "But what are you doing?"

The three of us swiveled our heads in the direction it came from; nearly identical Cheshire grins still in place. Adrian sat at the other end with his herbology essay set out in front of him. The one I was supposed to be working on with him. But… priorities. At the sight of the looks on our faces, Adrian's left eye started to twitch. However, he didn't seem particularly disturbed or frightened by it. Either he was becoming immune, or he still didn't understand just what the three of us were capable of when we worked together.

"Just writing a letter", I answered; trying to sound harmless without forming a facial expression to match. If his blank face and stony stare were anything to go by, Adrian was not impressed.

"Uh-huh", he answered; his tone flat. "And who would you write a letter too with I's dotted with hearts".

Having my boyfriend ask me that question caused me to blush. Yeah, I guess that is something a girlfriend shouldn't do unless the letter was intended for her significant other…. The grin I had been wearing slipped off my face as I laughed nervously.

Before I could think of any explanation, Fred took the letter from me and held it across the table towards Adrian. "Want to read it?" He asked a bit gleefully. "It's a masterpiece".

Even more suspicious than he was before, Adrian leaned forward far enough to accept the letter. For a brief moment, he was silent before, for whatever reason, he decided to read the letter out loud.

"To The Esteemed Lord Marius Flint,

I hope this letter finds you well. Because if it does, you may be in the right sort of mood to be distressed that things are not going well for others. (Or most. If we're being honest. It is Wednesday, after all. Or at least, it was when I was writing this letter). There are poor unfortunate souls in dire need of your help. And the only way to get your help is to ask.

Which is why, my dear, bloodthirsty lawyer, I'm writing this letter. To help unlucky wizards and witches like myself (Because I know you care so much about this luckless demographic). Poor souls with no one to turn to.

I admit that in the past, I've been abrasive to your help. I wasn't kidding when I said all you're good for are sarcastic comments and unwanted opinions. But you'll find that in the current moment (for as long as it best serves my interests), I've changed my mind, felt remorse, seen the light, and had a change of heart.

And fortunately, I know you adore pro bono work. It's a talent you possess. And dear sir, I promise I won't laugh, I know you're dying to use that talent for the miserable, despondent, and pained Hogwarts' Gatekeeper.

Yes, Hogwarts' Gatekeeper; a poor unfortunate soul who's in pain and in need. His hippogriff is marked for death and his career is at stake. So, will you help him? Of course, you Will! Mr. Rebus Hagrid; that poor unfortunate soul. It's sad. So, so sad.

Now, I know the deal. Nothing is ever free. If someone can't pay the price, I know you'd have to give them hell. You are a lawyer after all. But on the whole, you've been a valuable asset to poor unfortunate souls. I know I'll owe you a favor. We can negotiate (I will not marry your son). So, Have we got a deal?

Lawyers aren't very popular. They think a lawyer who does pro bono is a chump. Yet, I much prefer a lawyer who's charitable. After all good sir, that's what else is pro bono for? Come on, aren't you bored with your usual clients? The public avoids those clients when they can. But they'd dote and fawn over a lawyer who's altruistic. It's the lawyer who does pro bono who gets a good reputation.

So, come on, you wealthy fortunate soul. Make your choice. I'm a very distracted student and I won't be able to focus on this subject for much longer. It won't cost much; just your time. Please consider representing Rebus Hagrid and his hippogriff, Buckbeak, in court. Those poor, poor unfortunate souls.

Respectfully,

Holly Weasley

(The girl who will not marry your son)"

George, Fred, and I had started snickering before Adrian had made it through the first paragraph. And as Adrian finished reading the ending salutation, we were holding our sides, trying to keep the laughter in. We were in the library after all. With his forehead wrinkled and his lips in a thin line, Adrian folded up our artfully written letter and slipped it into his pocket. "You're not sending this", he declared; determined to put an end to our nonsense.

…. We sent the letter. It took teamwork, a well-planned distraction, and Fred fine-tuning his pickpocketing skills, but we managed. After getting the letter back, it was just a simple matter of commandeering Pigwidgeon to make the delivery. We found humor in imagining what Flint Sr.'s response would be when he got the letter. Specifically, the faces he'd make as he read it. For a day, we spent a lot of time acting out for each other what we thought Flint Sr. would do. I'm not sure we even expected a reply. I think in most cases if someone was asking for free legal help from a top-notch lawyer they wouldn't get a reply. At most, I thought we'd get a very simple response. Like a one-sentence letter that asked us to not waste his time. But come the next morning, we were proven wrong.

Sitting at Gryffindor table, sandwiched between Fred and George, I struggled to stay awake as I spread raspberry jam over my toast. It had been another murder dream night and I was starting to feel the consequence of multiple sleepless nights. It must have shown too because at one point George switched out my pumpkin juice for coffee. We had history of magic today. Hopefully, I could catch up on some sleep there.

I was nodding off over my breakfast and Fred and George were discussing Wood's latest training regimen; jam smothered toast in one hand and a butter knife in the other. The chatter and clatter of the morning meal happening all around me were surprisingly soothing in my sleepy state. If I allowed my eyes to close, I'd probably drift right off to la-la land. Or so I thought.

It was at that moment that I was jerked to alertness by a feathery mass flapping down to my plate; landing right in front of me. A loud screech erupting from the mass made it unquestionably clear what was interrupting breakfast. "I thought the morning post was already delivered", I commented as I placed my toast on George's plate as the owl held out its leg to me".

The owl's arrival and my comment interrupted Fred and George's conversation. I could feel their eyes watching us both as I started to untie the letter from the Owl's leg. It was a nice owl. Well-groomed with a mixture of brown and white in its feathers. Regal too. Not at all like the little goofball that was Pigwidgeon. Or like the senile elderly bird that was Erroll. It was an owl I have never seen before.

Lost in my observations, Fred noticed before I did. "Holly, that's a howler", he said in reference to the very red and smoking envelope I was now holding. I glanced down at it as the unknown owl took off and flew away; flinching when I realized Fred was right.

"Who would send our Jolly Holly a Howler?" George asked, The smoke-emitting letter was starting to draw attention as we tried to decide what we should do.

"It's not Mum or Dad", I reasoned as I turned the envelope over in the hopes to see a return address. There was none. "We haven't done anything recently that's bad enough to warrant screaming mail". In fact, we hadn't received a howler from home since our first year after we turned one of the corridors into a bowling alley and were using the suits of armor as pins. Quite impressive really if you think about our track records.

More and more smoke was emitting as the letter started to vibrate in my hand. "You don't think it could be from Lockhart, do you?" Fred asked; sounding concerned.

"No", I was quick to answer even though I wasn't sure. But why would it be? There was nothing for Lockhart to gain by sending me hate mail. Especially considering that we didn't know if Lockhart had control over his actions or not.

"Maybe we shouldn't open it here", George suggested.

But it didn't matter. We had run out of time. The letter exploded open in my hand and a loud braying laugh started bouncing off the walls of the great hall as the envelope contorted until it looked like an origami mouth.

"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!" The letter continued to laugh in a way that kind of reminded me of a cheesy haunted house ride at a state fair. Every head turned in our direction as people figured out where the sound was coming from. At Slytherin table, Adrian fixed a very accusing glare in our direction. While at his side, Flint looked around the room in confusion. As if he was suspecting to see someone who wasn't there.

It was Flint's reaction that cued me in that we were safe… probably. "It's not Lockhart", I told my brothers over the noise, relaxing my back.

The letter kept going. "HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!"

"Then who is it?" Fred asked as George waved cheerily to the people staring at us. Neither one of us was very affected by Howlers. We learned long ago that they only worked if you allowed yourself to be embarrassed or bothered by them.

Before I could answer, the letter stopped laughing. There were no short breaths or any sign of catching breath. One of the benefits of being an enchanted letter. Instead, the letter said in a very put-together way "I accept, Miss Weasley" before it burned itself to ashes.

The hall was freakishly silent as I looked right at George and then left at Fred. Merlin's beard on toast! Writing to Lord Flint actually worked.