Chapter 36, everybody! And we're back with a minimum month's worth of updates, so good news! :D
So this is mostly written from Buckbeak's point of view….In other news, I am having a ball with Harry's sweaters why didn't we get more crazy magical clothes?
For something different with reviews: thanks to Gouravsilentreader, Guest(s?), maidengarnet, and Forest1395101 for the reviews! Although I am once again forced to remind people that tipping is a sign of appreciation to the people serving you.
Harry Potter © 1997 J.K. Rowling
Midterms had come and gone, still with no sign of Pettigrew. Harry was making progress on the Patronus, if keeping a fine mist going was considered progress. Sirius Black was no longer a topic of interest, mostly because Hermione walking out on Divination and not returning had blown all other news out of the water. Speaking of, Harry was still trying to get Ron and Hermione back on speaking terms.
"I'm not sure why you're bothering," Malfoy said to him as they left breakfast Saturday, Harry off with Neville to help Professors Sprout and Slughorn harvest potion ingredients (for extra credit and because it was interesting), Malfoy heading for the stables to tend to Buckbeak. "They decided they don't get along, every time you try this you get your head bit off, let it go."
"It just feels like a thing I should do," Harry said.
Malfoy huffed and headed for Hagrid's. "You feel like you should wear those sweaters too—that doesn't mean you should."
"What's wrong with my sweater?" Harry asked, looking at it—little petals had been stitched on that opened and shut depending on the light level, and Harry had been entertaining himself by flipping his robes back and forth to watch the effect.
"Some people have no taste," Neville said, leading the way to the greenhouses. "And, ah…when did we get chummy with Malfoy?"
"I'm not sure," Harry said. "I think it started last year, but the hippogriffs really helped."
By then they had reached the greenhouses, and their time was preoccupied by learning a bit more about the plants that went into various potions and why they needed to be picked on this particular time and this particular way and why this one should only be picked when you were wearing a wool sweater (Harry and Neville had to check each other's tags) and by lunchtime they were hungry and dirty and feeling vaguely enlightened.
They had retreated to Gryffindor tower to clean off and change (Scourgify worked wonders on clothes and shoes) and while Neville headed to lunch, Harry decided he was going to see if he could have his at Hagrid's and see how Snuffles was doing without having Filch or one of the teachers giving him the eye.
Snips was apparently of two minds on this, considering his muted grumbling when Harry announced this decision.
"I thought you and Snuffles were getting along," Harry asked him as he headed for the doors.
"Harry!"
Harry started, looked. "Oh hello Professor."
Professor Lupin nodded, pointed back at the Great Hall. "Going in or just leaving?"
"Actually I was going to see if I could eat lunch at Hagrid's."
"I might walk with you then—Hagrid agreed to help me procure next lesson's creature," Professor Lupin said, Harry falling into step next to him. "You might like this one—won't be one that people would reasonably be expected to encounter, but it should be interesting."
"It's not a Lethifold, is it?"
"No. Definitely not."
"Then it'll be interesting," Harry agreed.
"Mrow."
"No wait Crookshanks go back I'm not sure if you're allowed outside," Harry said, looking at the furry orange cat. Said cat gave him one of those longsuffering cat looks before proceeding to do what he wanted anyway.
"Sorry, Harry, not even wizards can make a cat do what they want," Professor Lupin said, laughing a little before watching Crookshanks go down to Hagrid's. "Funny, your parents used to have a cat similar to that."
"I heard they had a dog too—how many pets did they have?"
"Dog?" Professor Lupin asked, looking thrown. "Well—see, the thing with the dog is—"
What the thing with the dog was was cut off by Snips' shrill shriek, startling Harry and Lupin before launching off of Harry's shoulder—something in the grass shifted, bolted—
Something small and gray.
"Hey!" Harry barked, running after it. "Professor—sorry—important—"
"Wait—was that—Harry no—"
And then things went a little crazy.
Buckbeak was having a very satisfying day, all things considered.
The boy that Hagrid had been having assist with taking care of them had come early, bowed deeply and properly, had taken care of all of them nicely with hay and tasty ferrets and was now doing a thing they both liked: brushing Buckbeak down.
This was a good thing, and Buckbeak made pleased sounds as he rested his head on the nearby fence, half-listening to the boy talk about this and that and the other while he turned over Very Important Things in his own head.
Now Buckbeak had been debating about this for quite some time. Yes, the boy was proud and willful, but he showed the proper amount of awe and respect, was very attentive. Yes, perhaps he could adopt, it would be nice to have something he wasn't sharing with the rest of the flock.
And for such reasons the cat and the dog had inducted him into the Familiars' Club, had filled him in on the rat that was such a problem and made his hackles raise at the thought. Drat it all, no one letting him keep his boy here, in the stables where it was properly safe and he could keep an eye on him.
News of an evil rat had sent the whole flock constantly stomping on their hay and straw to dislodge any potential vermin, in other news, and constantly confused Hagrid, who was trying to puzzle out if they were dissatisfied with their food and bedding.
But the point was, he had decided that this boy was his, and therefore when the other Very Respectful boy started running their way and yelling, the teacher that smelled like wolf running after him, his first thought was that the boy was being pursued and that this was a problem. Except the little bat that stayed with that boy was flying ahead and shrieking, when he really should be heading the other way—
Which was when the dog and Fang both sat up, the cat pausing in its licking to look—
All three of them launched forward, barking and hissing and making him scan the grounds as Hagrid yelled for Fang and his boy wondered what was going on—
There!
The vermin.
The vermin that was potentially dangerous, was potentially dangerous to HIS BOY, and which was about to meet a very gory and very satisfying end—at least for Buckbeak.
"Wait Buckbeak NO!" his boy yelped, unable to catch him before he vaulted the fence, wings spread as he galloped for the little blur of gray, busy screaming in alarm about the dogs—
Screeching reached a new crescendo as Buckbeak stomped down, stamping and clawing and trying to hit the little noisome ball of fur—maybe he wouldn't eat it when he was done—claws and hoofs churning up the sod as the dogs tried to snap at it and the bat clung to his neck feathers and the cat darted past them—
'LOOK OUT!' the little bat screeched, prompting them all to look up—
The vermin had run for the Whomping Willow, which was now bearing down on them with branches thicker than Buckbeak's chest—flinch back, ready to bolt—
The tree froze.
Blink, look at each other, back at the wizards who were still running and waving their limbs, over at the tree—
The cat was standing at the base, a paw on a knot.
'Don't let it get away!' it screeched, reminding them of the more pressing matter at hand—look down to find the ball of gray fur gone—
'There!' Fang barked—spin to see it fleeing for the Forbidden Forest—
Two dogs and one hippogriff ran after it, snarling and snapping—it was going to get to the trees, it was going to escape—
"BUCKBEAK!"
Look up at the distress in his boy's voice, start to skid—caught a flash of orange out the corner of his eye—
The cat—it was going after the rat, the little bat following, owls arcing overhead—
The cat was no longer holding the Whomping Willow at bay.
Buckbeak reversed course as the creaking started back up again, entirely focused on one thing—hit his boy in the chest with his head, lifting him up as he instinctively clung on, still galumphing hard in the other direction—the Very Respectful boy was still running how could he take care of both—
The teacher that smelled like a wolf had his stick out, was pointing at the Whomping Willow and yelling nonsense that probably meant I have a stick and am therefore a tree too—
The creaking stopped, Hagrid caught the Very Respectful boy—
Buckbeak finally felt safe stopping next to Hagrid, lowered his head so his boy could tumble safely to the ground.
Said boy was distraught as he stood. "What's the MATTER WITH YOU? Are you crazy—"
Said boy might be his boy, but there were rules and chief among them was that Hippogriffs Must Always Be Respected—bowl him over, put a paw to his chest to remind him of this fact. Nuzzle when he saw wetness leaking out of his face, knew that this had been beak-snapping borne of worry.
"Wha' happened?" Hagrid demanded. "Wha' got into tha lot o' 'em?"
Right. The vermin. Turn—
The Whomping Willow had believed the teacher that smelled like a wolf when he told it that he was a tree too, Fang hemmed in by quickly growing vines and barking at the forest, the other dog that smelled like a person tied up in vines and whimpering. The vermin was long-gone, the cat and the bat and maybe the owls after it.
"Professor Lupin!" the Very Respectful boy protested as the vines vanished from around Fang but not the other dog. "Aren't you—please untie Snuffles."
"Snuffles?" the teacher that smelled like a wolf repeated. "No—no wait a minute, I know this dog—and that—that was a rat they were chasing, and what—that was the rat, wasn't it?" he asked the dog, who nodded frantically. "That—I need a minute."
Buckbeak clicked his beak, nuzzled his boy when he got up again, this time engaging in proper behavior and holding on tightly to his neck in a hug. The vermin had escaped. For now.
But his boy was staying in the stable with him tonight.