HPHIMYM Spring 1992

Harry Potter: How I Met Your Mother
Part Three: Spring 1992

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, its characters or its settings. They belong to JK Rowling, warner Brothers, and Wizarding World. I do lay claim to my original characters.

This story has nothing to do with the How I Met Your Mother television series.

WARNING: SPOILERS! Do not proceed any further unless you've seen or read Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone/Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.

Advisory: This Chapter rated "T" for adult material

-How I Met Your Mother- How I Met Your Mother-How I Met Your Mother-

"I'm sure that your Mum has stories to tell about her first Spring Term at Hogwarts. My own Spring Term wasn't that eventful. Aside from study, palling around with my mates, and a visit to Hogsmeade, my own spring term wasn't that eventful until the Equinox.

Quidditch was a notable exception. I watched and cheered as Slytherin beat Ravenclaw in January and then Hufflepuff in March. We walked off the stands in triumph.. I'd heard tell that Potter's biographers had rude things to say about our Quidditch team back then, but we did have a good team. Our Quidditch team played hard and our players played skillfully. What's more, we played to win.

I do remember that your Mum got involved with Potter and Weasley and Hagrid's dragon, although I only heard the story after it happened and I don't remember all the details. I do remember Draco Malfoy boasting about how he was going to get Potter and his two sidekicks into trouble for being out of their dormitories after hours and that it would get the three of them either into detention or even expelled. He didn't succeed in getting Potter expelled, but he did succeed in costing what later became know as the Golden Trio over 150 house points, at the cost of losing fifty points from Slytherin. Served the little git right.

I also heard about his detention. I heard that he had some sort of fright when Hagrid took him to the Forbidden Forest. I wasn't too sure about just what had frightened him there, but I thought that his claim of bravery in the face of danger was just so much codswallop.

I didn't learn why your Mum, Potter, and Ron Weasley had snuck out until much later. At the risk of repeating thrice-told tails, they'd crept out to save Hagrid's baby dragon. The thought of it still makes me laugh after all this time. I'd never had much to do with Hagrid back then save for a couple of times that he'd run me and my mates out of the Forbidden Forest. I was much younger and resented it back then but failed to notice that he could have notified Professor Snape and cost us house points but didn't.

After I found out about Hagrid's dragon, I discovered that I couldn't get angry at him. Dragons are amazing, beautiful creatures, although they're the sorts of creatures best seen from a distance and shouldn't be allowed near schools or inhabited areas. We all knew that Hagrid was attracted to magical creatures. Many of us believed that the larger and more dangerous they were, the more they interested him. Naturally we could understand why he'd be interested in raising a dragon. After I learned that Hagrid's baby dragon had been exfiltrated from Hogwarts by parties unknown, I sighed with relief.

But that was later on. In the meantime I hung around with my mates and ignored the ickles' chatter. About the only thing I noticed was that the Gryffindors had lost a lot of housepoints over something or other, although I wasn't aware of the particulars.

I still remember your mother's reaction after the denouement of her after-hours excursion outside Gryffindor Tower. I was sitting at my usual seat in the library at t my usual time doing research when your Mum came in and took her seat. Despite my being a mere fifteen year old and my powers of observation being far less acute than those of an adult, I could see that she looked terrible.

"Granger, you look terrible," I said.

"Aren't you going to gloat?" sshe said.

"About what?" I said.

"House points," she said, her eyes tearing up. "My friends and I cost Gryffindor 150 house points."

"I did notice a drop in the Gryffindor hour glass but I didn't know who did what or what the circumstances were until you told me," I replied.

Your mother glared at me, then blushed.

"Did anyone die?" I said.

"No," she said.

"Did anyone get sent to St Mungo's or did any school buildings collapse or catch fire?" I asked.

"No," she replied, a half-smile breaking through her gloom.

I decided to ask the sort of question I'd only throw at a Gryffindor. Or maybe a Hufflepuff. "Was it for a good cause?" I said.

"It was for a good cause," she replied. "It was—"

I put up my hand and motioned her to silence. "Then I don't need to know," I said. "Now put aside your books and set to it, Granger." Your mother smiled and blinked away a couple of tears, then opened one of the books she'd brought to the library table.

-XX—XXX—XX—

We had our first dispute a couple of weeks later. I badly needed to read a couple of books for an upcoming quiz in Transfiguration, and wouldn't you know it, two of the books I was seeking were in those piles of tomes that your mother kept around her customary seat at our shared reading table.

I asked if I could borrow one while I was seated there and your Mum found my request offensive. In fact. She got quite irate. She might even have been spoiling for a fight.

I managed to keep most of my temper and replied "Damnit, Granger, I would like to see those books. I can see you reading most or all of them , but I can't see you reading all of those books at the same time."

That wasn't quite the response she was expecting from me. I suspect that some of her contemporaries had been bullying her. She frowned at me, trying to see if I'd insulted her or was merely making a sensible argument, then conceded with a sigh.

"Well, since you asked nicely," she said, trying to stare me down (That didn't work back them), "Which books did you want to read?"

"I made my selections and both of us resumed our studies.

-XX—XXX—XX—

You may think that our study arrangements passed unnoticed. They didn't. The first comments from my peers came from my mates.

"I saw you at the library, Woodbine," said Aiden. "Were you actually studying with a lady Gryffindor?"

"We study at the same table," I said.

"Is it just studying or are you getting romantic?" said Edgar.

"Just studying," I scoffed. "The girl's a first-year."

"Who is it, then?" said Aiden. "Some Pureblood Firstie you plan on courting later?"

"Does Camilla know?" said Edgar.

"Come off it," I said. "She's Hermione Granger and she's a bloody Muggle-born."

"Hooo," said Edgar. "Planning to get into her knickers, are we?"

"No," I said a little more sharply than I intended. "She's just a kid. And even without Camilla, Snape would have my head for creating a scandal."

"Or your testicles," said Edgar. "Not that they'd go unused. He probably knows of some old potion that needs them."

Aiden looked thoughtful. "Granger," he said. "Isn't she part of Ickle Potter's crowd?"

"I have seen Potter and that Weasley brother buzz around her," I said

"So why don't you tell her to pick up her books and study somewhere else?" said Edgar.

"Because I find her entertaining," I replied. "For that matter I find most Muggleborns entertaining. They not only stumble with spells, they don't know things we knew or took for granted long before we took our first train ride from King's Cross Station, and I enjoy their looking at Magic with wonder. It reminds me of what a great gift we've been given.""

Aiden stared at me for a long time. "You're serious, aren't you?" he replied.

I decided to change the tone of the conversation. "No, Sirius Black is in Azkaban," I said.

The three of us chuckled.

"I'll have to get that serious expression off your face the next time we go to Hogsmeade—either with some Butterbeer or something stronger," said Edgar.

"Seriously," I said. "I enjoy watching her and her little friends run around and plot their escapades. It's very amusing."

-XX—XXX—XX—

The play for the Sorcerer's Stone went down a couple of weeks later. Potter, Weasley, and Granger set off in search of the Stone, unfortunately picking a weekend when Headmaster Dumbledore had been called away on Wizengamut business. Potter, Weasley, and your Mum got past Fluffy, the three-headed dog guarding the trap door that led to the Stone, passed the Devil's Snare, and crossed the chessboard. I learned later that Potter confronted the Dark Lord, who'd possessed Quirinus Quirrell, that year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and defeated him. His adventures cost him a trip to the Hospital Wing to recuperate. If he didn't get a triumphal procession through Gryffindor Tower, he did gain his house's good graces, as well as good cess from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, neither of whom savored a return to the dark times of the First Wizarding War.

The reaction in our house was naturally more muted. The number of the Dark Lord's sympathizers in Slytherin had shrunk since I entered Hogwarts but they were still present and had begun to coalesce around Draco Malfoy. While they were a minority in Slytherin, they still had eyes and ears and many of their parents still had power. Those of us who were grateful that someone had spoked the wheels of the Dark Lord looked around at our housemates we thought we could trust and celebrated quietly—very quietly.

If the Dark Lord had been inconvenienced, we Fourth-years had other things to worry about: our exams. My mates and I studied hard. So did Camilla and our times together were less about romance and plans for our future lives together than they were about reviewing the stuff we'd learned in the past year and practicing charms and spells that we were certain that Professor Flitwick or Professor McGonagall would send our way. I practiced what few spells and counter-curses I'd learned and mastered in my Third Year and some other spells I'd learned from Fifth and Sixth years to prepare for my DADA exam: We'd had a good teacher then and I hoped I'd do well enough to earn an "Acceptable" from whoever would be administering my exam.

After several grueling weeks of study, practice and exams, I went into the Great Hall and other spaces set aside as exam rooms and did my best. I left feeling like I'd been the loser of a Muggle-style boxing match, but I was confident that I passed, although perhaps only by the skin of my teeth.

For all intents and purposes, the end of our last exams was the practical end of our school year. I should have known that the end of my fourth year was also the end of what I recollect as peaceful years at Hogwarts. The last event of the school year was the Farewell Feast, which ended on a sour note: Slytherin was denied what I thought ought to be our eight year at winning the House Cup. The Gryffindors won it because of what I still feel was because of Professor Dumbledore's house favoritism.

It was also the end of what I think of as a time of innocence, despite Professor Quirrell's mysterious disappearance before the End of Term. None of my circle of friends and classmates knew just why he did, save that Quirrell had run afoul of the curse on the Defense Against the Dark arts professors' position. Only a couple of us deduced that it had something to do with the Dark Lord.

Shortly afterwards, we boarded the train that would take us to King's Cross Station and our families. I sat with my mates or visited Camilla while your Mum sat with her friends Potter and Ron Weasley. I had planned to leave your Mum alone until I got one of what your grandmother Cor calls an inspiration: I got her to give me her mailing address, using a promise of mailing her a book on magic as bait. Promise and mailing addresses exchanged, we went back to our companions and our separate ways. When the train arrived in London, I was greeted by my Dad and Mum and we made our way home.