Chapter 4: Sensible Actions
Sensible Action
It was Harry's first anti-dementor lesson after he'd brought forth the stag. Lupin opened the wardrobe the boggart was housed in, and the boggart turned into a dementor.
Harry felt the chill, but he was already focused on the memory of his first kiss, and a hundred other memories of Hermione too, all amalgamated into a thought that went something like, 'I am very good friends with Hermione Granger, and something more too,' and when he cast the spell, a silver stag burst from his wand and chased the boggart-dementor right back into its wardrobe.
Professor Lupin fell out of his chair. "A stag," he said, "A stag!"
Amid his pride and satisfaction, Harry spared a moment to be puzzled, because while he had expected Professor Lupin to be pleased, he hadn't expected him to be shocked by the particular form of his Patronus.
Coming back to his feet, Lupin said, "It looks just like Prongs." He shook his head. "Your father's Patronus was a stag too. He called it Prongs. It looked very much like yours."
Prongs. It reminded him of the Marauder's Map, but that was a distracting an important thought. His Patronus was the same as his father's. Harry said, "Could I call mine Prongs too?"
"I think James would appreciate it. Cast it again."
Harry let the Patronus fade, then cast it again, the stag, Prongs, prancing around the room just as before.
"Wonderful. You've got it. This calls for some celebration. You've earned a drink. Something from the Three Broomsticks." He pulled two bottles of butterbeer out of his case, handing Harry one.
Harry popped the cap off and relished the taste, though not nearly as much as he relished what had just happened. The same Patronus as his dad. And Lupin knowing that, and knowing its name confirmed what Harry had suspected. His dad and Lupin had been more than casual friends, like, say, Harry and Seamus. They'd been close.
Harry said, "Am I very much like my dad?"
Lupin gave him a long look, and Harry thought Lupin wouldn't answer, but Lupin said, "In some ways. You're both Gryffindors. Both phenomenal fliers. Very similar Patronuses. You look remarkably like him, as I'm sure you've been told. I hear you have the same disrespect for rules. And unless I'm mistaken, your wand is phoenix feather."
"Holly and Phoenix feather."
Lupin said, "James' was Mahogany and Phoenix feather. So in some ways, you're eerily similar. Almost identical. In other ways, you're very different. For good or for ill, and it was often both, James had a swagger. In personality, you remind me more of your mother, which is good. She was a better person than we were, especially at your age." His gaze was distant, lost in memories, but he shook the memories off and said, "There's a messenger spell using the Patronus Charm, that, after you've learned the Patronus Charm, isn't much of a step up. You might learn it by the end of today."
Harry wished he hadn't learned the Patronus Charm so quickly. Now that he had, this might well be their last meeting. And once they weren't meeting for lessons, Lupin wouldn't let slip any more details about his parents.
Harry said, "I was wondering. With Black after me and all. Now that I've about got the Patronus down, maybe you could tutor me on dueling."
Lupin looked at him sharply. "You're not thinking to go after Black, are you?"
"Of course not," said Harry, though he had that in mind. "But he's already tried to break into Gryffindor once. Knowing a few more spells could keep me alive."
Lupin frowned and from his briefcase took three parchments bound together by a silver ring. "This is the spell-list from my fourth-year class. Fourth-year is much more focused on defending oneself against wizards than creatures. Wand movements and other basic information needed for the spells is included. It's alphabetical, but the really important spells are underlined. I'd draw particular attention to the Stunning Spell and the Shield Charm. I've also included charms and transfigurations that, while not normally part of a Defence course, can be very useful. The Summoning Charm can come especially in handy. You could work on these spells on your own."
Harry took the spell-list, wondering when he'd have the time.
Lupin said, "And I suppose we could continue meeting once a week, most weeks. Though unfortunately, next week may not work."
Harry said, "The full moon's on the seventh, isn't it?" Then he froze, wondering why he'd said that, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Lupin had frozen as well.
"The full moon?" Lupin said. "What does that have to do with anything?
"Well, you know. You are, aren't you?"
"Aren't I what?" said Lupin, swallowing.
"A werewolf," said Harry.
Professor Lupin was utterly silent. Harry regretted saying anything at all.
Harry said, "It's fine if you are. Just a rotten case of bad luck." He was very much afraid his favorite Professor was about to boot him out.
Lupin began to laugh. Not a nice life. There was relief to it, and hysterics. He said, "That's almost exactly what your mother said to me when she found out. Your father, on the other hand, took the mickey out of me, but that was years earlier."
"You're not mad?"
Lupin spread his arms. "At you figuring out my secret? Why would I be? All the clues were there. Not much escapes you, Harry."
Harry said, "Not much escapes Hermione. I just talk to her.
Lupin raised his butterbeer. "A toast, to Miss Granger and young love."
Harry blushed. "You've heard already?"
"Never underestimate the speed of the Hogwarts rumor mill. Galleons were exchanged at the staff table when that rumor was confirmed, longstanding bets settled. Professor Snape raked in a killing, though he did look distinctly morose about it."
"Snape did?"
"Professor Snape, Harry. And you should never gamble with him."
Harry could believe that, even if he couldn't imagine Professor Snape betting on students' love lives.
Lupin said, "Do I need to tell you to not inform anyone of my condition?"
"We know," said Harry. "We won't."
"Then the week after next, I will see you in the Defence classroom for a little dueling practice. But first, let's try that Patronus Messenger Charm."
#
#
Walking back to the dorms from his session with Lupin, flush from the memory of his success at the Messenger Patronus, Harry nearly bumped into Professor McGonagall.
She was carrying his Firebolt, which looked as fresh and oiled and perfect as ever.
Professor McGonagall said, "I've just been looking for you in the Gryffindor common room. Well, here it is, we've done everything we could think of, and there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it at all. You've got a very good friend somewhere, Potter..."
"I can have it back?" said Harry. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," said Professor McGongall, and she was actually smiling. "I daresay you'll need to get the feel of it before Saturday's match, won't you? And Potter—do try to win, won't you? Or we'll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me only last night..."
Speechless, Harry carried the Firebolt upstairs toward Gryffindor tower. As he turned a corner, he saw Ron coming toward him, wearing a cautious smile.
"You got it back," said Ron.
Harry said, "In time for the match, and in just as good of condition as before."
"But there weren't any jinxes on it, were there?"
Harry stoutly said, "But there might've been, so it's good we checked."
"She's been proven wrong and you're still taking her side."
"For the last time, Ron, I'm not taking her side. She just wasn't wrong. Sure, it wasn't jinxed, but she was right to think it might've been. It was a sensible precaution." He hesitated, thinking of what Ron had said just a couple days before, but thought of everything they'd been through together. "I'll let you give it a fly if you'll make up with her."
Ron looked angry for a moment, then deflated, shamefaced. "Some of what I said to her wasn't very good. Especially when I saw you two holding hands."
"You think?"
"I was upset. I don't like things changing. And this year, at Diagon Alley, I thought, as far as dating went, it would be me if it was anyone. That we would date."
Harry, recalling what Hermione had said about Ron being jealous of her being close to him, wondered if Ron really might be a poofter, and if there were any politer sounding words for that. "It's alright," said Harry. "I understand. But you can't let that make you nasty to her. You just need to apologize to Hermione, a lot, and it'll go back to being the same as before, except me and her will hold hands and sometimes we might want to be alone."
"Alright. Just give me a minute. Once we're in the dorms, I'll go give Scabbers his rat tonic, and then I'll say sorry."
Harry understood. Ron would spend two minutes giving Scabbers his rat tonic, and twenty minutes pacing the dorm, practicing what he would say to her and working himself up to it by getting all of his grumbling out of the way early.
Proceeding to Gryffindor Tower, they noticed Neville outside the portrait leading to it, arguing with Sir Cadogan.
"I've lost the passwords!" Neville told them miserably. "I made him tell me what passwords he was going to use this week, because he keeps changing them, and now I don't know what I've done with them."
"Oddsbodikins," said Harry to Sir Cadogan, who looked disappointed and swung forward to let them into the common room. There was a sudden, excited murmur as everyone turned, and the next moment, as Ron went up to their room, Harry was surrounded by people exclaiming over his Firebolt.
"Where'd you get it, Harry?"
"Will you let me have a go?"
"Have you ridden it yet?"
Smiling nervously and trying to answer everyone's questions with a quick spiel, Harry pushed through and spotted Hermione, bent over her Runes homework and avoiding his eyes, rather than smiling at his entrance like she usually did.
He sat next to her, holding the broom tight. "Are you still worried about that?"
"There was nothing wrong with it, was there?" said Hermione, ears pink.
"I've already said you were right to be suspicious, and I've already forgiven you for going to Professor McGonagall behind my back. And Ron has promised to apologize to you."
"It'd better be good, after what he said."
He took her hand. "Saying sorry is hard for him."
"I'll accept it," sighed Hermione. "I still feel horrible enough over going to McGonagall before talking to you."
At that moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boy's staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring at the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder—and then Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bed sheet.
"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to them. "LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheet in Hermione's face.
"Ron, what?"
"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!"
Hermione was leaning away from Ron, utterly bewildered. Harry looked at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it, something that looked horribly like—
"BLOOD!" Ron yelled into the stunned silence. "HE'S GONE, AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?" Ron threw something down onto Hermione's rune translation. Hermione and Harry leaned forward. Lying on the top of spiky shapes of the runes were several long, ginger cat hairs.
"YOUR CAT ATE MY RAT, AND IT'S YOUR FAULT! HE'S HAD IT IN FOR SCABBERS FROM THE BEGINNING. I TOLD YOU TO GET RID OF THE BEAST, AND YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!"
Hermione said, "You can't know it was Crookshanks! Besides, maybe Scabbers isn't even dead."
"HIS HAIR ON THE FLOOR, AND I CAN'T KNOW IT WAS HIM! YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS, HAVEN'T YOU! YOU'VE NEVER LIKED SCABBERS."
Hermione said, "He was a rat. I liked him fine! And for all you know those hairs have been there since Christmas! And Scabbers might be fine. Have you checked under the beds?"
"OH, AND THE BLOOD ON THE SHEETS CAME FROM NOWHERE DID IT! YOUR BEAST OF A CAT ATE MY RAT!"
Harry said, "Ron, you ought to calm down.
"You're taking her side again!"
"I think Crookshanks probably ate Scabbers. I think Hermione should apologize to you over that, but it wasn't her fault. Crookshanks was just doing what cats do, and you shouldn't be screaming at Hermione over it."
Harry continued in the levelest tone he could manage, which wasn't very level. "I offered that we would all go to the library and figure out a way to keep Scabbers safe, and all you did was insult Hermione more! And if you didn't want to work with her, you could've at least looked for a way to do it yourself. And Hermione did a lot better job at locking Crookshanks in her room than you did locking him out of ours, and it's not as if Scabbers even wanted to go down to the common room. I kept the door closed more than you did. If you want to be mad at her for not doing more, first you'd better be a lot madder at yourself for doing nothing."
"ALWAYS SAYING YOU'RE NOT TAKING HER SIDE, AND ALWAYS ENDING UP ON IT! BECAUSE WHO CARES WHAT I THINK? I'M JUST THE FUNNY STUPID ONE!"
Harry said, "Ron, we know you're not stupid. You wouldn't murder the whole dorm at chess if you were."
"AND THAT'S ANOTHER THING. YOU NEVER LEARNED THE SICILIAN DEFENCE LIKE I TOLD YOU TO. JUST QUEEN PAWN EVERY TIME. IT GETS BLOODY BORING. I BET YOU WOULD'VE LEARNED IT IF HERMIONE HAD TOLD YOU TO!"
Harry protested, "I just don't like breaking my castle."
"YOU'D STILL CASTLE ON YOUR KING SIDE IF YOU'D LEARN IT PROPERLY. BUT IT'S NOT ABOUT THAT. IT'S ABOUT THE FACT THAT YOU AND HERMIONE HAVE NEVER RESPECTED ME!"
Hermione shouted, "That's not true, but you're sure working hard to make it that way."
"YOU NEVER ACTUALLY LIKED ME! YOU ONLY HUNG OUT WITH ME BECAUSE I WAS FRIENDS WITH HARRY AND HE'S THE BOY-WHO-LIVED!"
Hermione shouted, "Ron! Think, for once in your life! I'm muggle-born. I didn't grow up on stories of the Boy-Who-Lived. What do I care about it?!"
"'THINK, FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE!?' SEE, YOU THINK I'M STUPID!"
"Maybe I do!"
Ron's jaw clamped shut. He pounded up the stairs running away from them, sheet flapping behind them.
Hermione stared after him, angry and miserable. Harry put an arm over her shoulder, wondering if they'd ever be friends with Ron again, wondering if he wanted to be.
#
#
The Quidditch match raised his flagging spirits. He noticed that Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker, was quite pretty, and felt guilty for noticing. He suppressed the feeling, caught the snitch, and then used his Patronus on three dementors that turned out to be Malfoy and goons, who lost 50 points over it. The Gryffindor dorms were ecstatic.
Ron of course, stayed away from the party.
As the party wound down, Harry broke away from the crush of congratulations and sat next to Hermione and took her hand, ignoring a catcall from Fred and George. He was getting better at initiating physical contact, but he still wasn't nearly as bold about as she was.
Occasionally, she would hold his arm in such a way that the back of his arm pushed against the side of her breast, and he liked that a lot and wondered if she did it on purpose.
They'd even kissed each other using tongues the other day, and it had been strange, but nice. Then they'd both started laughing.
Harry said, "There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up. I thought we might have a proper date."
"With you in an invisibility cloak? Harry, you shouldn't go to Hogsmeade again. What if Black caught you?"
He shrugged.
"Harry James Potter, I will never forgive if you get yourself killed. I'll visit your gravestone and scream at you for being an idiot."
Harry said, "Everyone who has a girlfriend takes them to Hogsmeade."
"Is that what this is about? Harry, if I see you there, I won't go on a pleasant date with you, I'll nag you horribly to leave. And possibly hex you. And I'm not going to Hogsmeade anyway."
"Not... Hermione, even if I'm stuck here, that doesn't mean you are. You don't have to stay to keep me company."
"Who would I go with? Accompany Lavender and Parvati while they continue their epic quest to flirt with all the boys? Ron's not speaking to me. Tag along with Ginny and her friends? I suppose I could go with Neville, but I'd much rather be here with you than there with anyone else. Besides, I'll have loads of homework to do."
Rather be at Hogwarts with him than at Hogsmeade with anyone else? He liked the sound of that. Still. "You need to relax some time."
"While everyone else is at Hogsmeade, we'll have a picnic by the lake."
"It's not picnicking weather yet."
"Then we'll practice our warming charms. If it were me the crazy murderer were after, would you want me risking my life for Honeydukes and Zonko's?"'
Harry sank into the couch, defeated. "You're right. I don't want you to be, but you are. As usual."
"I'm glad you've come to accept that," she said.
Harry groaned. "Hermione."
She tucked his arm against her chest in the way that pressed the back of it against the side of her breast, and she pecked him on the lips.
Harry subsided, then laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"You remember what Ron said when we first argued about me forgiving you right away over the Firebolt? When he suggested I was being easy on you because of your, er, feminine wiles? It wasn't true at all then, but it's becoming true now. I wonder if he's got more talent for Divination than anyone suspects."
"A talent for self-fulfilling prophecies, if so," she said. She smiled, but it was a strained smile, so Harry knew she didn't want to talk about Ron.
Harry said, "That spell-list Professor Lupin gave me. I don't have the time to learn it, but what if you gave me time."
"No."
"It's important. We did it for the Patronus."
"A little. Besides. That was to keep you safe. This is because you want to go after Black."
"No I don't. I mean, I do want to. But I wouldn't actually go after him. I know I said that when I first heard, but I've cooled down."
"Harry Potter, I know you. You might tell other people you're not planning to go after him, you might even tell that to yourself, but inside you'll be thinking of all the different ways you could be forced to defend yourself from him, and you'll do your best to make one of those situations happen. By, I don't know, going to Hogsmeade and 'carelessly' taking off your invisibility cloak."
Harry opened his mouth to object, but realized it was true. "He betrayed my parents to Voldemort."
"And he's an adult wizard who'd love nothing more than to kill you. If you go after him, you'll only be helping him."
"That's why I need to borrow time from you. So I'll be stronger."
"It doesn't have nearly enough time in it for you to win that fight, if he's gotten hold of a wand."
Harry glared, Hermione gave him that infuriating, 'I'm right and you know it,' look.
"Hermione, he killed my parents."
Her lips pursed. A struggle was on her face, as if she wasn't sure whether to say what was on her mind. And that was odd, because Hermione always said what was on her mind. Like the words were demanding to be let out.
Hermione said, "Do you want to win, or do you want to emote? If you just want to express your emotions, sure, go get yourself killed. But if you actually want to win, if you actually want him caught, that's a different story."
"You think I don't care about that?"
"Not enough to control yourself, clearly. Not enough to face reality."
His voice shook with anger. "So you think I should just do nothing?"
"I think you should stay safe and wait for the Ministry to catch him."
Wait? Wait?! When had the Ministry ever done anything? It would come down to him, just like it had his first year and his second, just like it had when he was one. And yes, he knew a third-year shouldn't have any chance against an evil dark wizard, but he'd done it before, hadn't he? She didn't understand. She didn't get it.
He glared at her, she glared back, and beneath that glare he saw a hint of fear.
And Harry knew they were about to have their first fight as a couple, and it would not be pretty, and they might not be a couple anymore at the end of it, which was horrible because she was only worried about him and she was at least a little bit right, and he couldn't imagine Ron ever getting into an argument with him to protect him.
Harry jumped on the first conversational life raft that came to mind.
Harry said, "I wonder how Malfoy would handle this."
"Malfoy?"
"You told me I should do more with my Slytherin traits. If Malfoy were in this situation, and he weren't a stupid, evil, slimy git, what would he do? Try to get Black caught, I reckon."
Hermione relaxed and raised an eyebrow. "That... has some potential." She sounded intensely relieved as she said so. "We wouldn't want to do anything stupid, like using you as bait, of course, but it has some potential."
Harry said, "We could use me as bait, but in a way that isn't stupid. Or, we could transfigure a log to look like me, and use that as bait. And we could try to figure out how he got into the castle, and trap it for if he tries again."
Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "The first thing we should do is tell a Professor about the one-eyed witch that leads to the cellar of Honeydukes. That might be how he he got in."
Harry hated that thought. "If I tell them about the secret entrance, I'll never get to go to Hogsmeade again."
"Yes you will. Next year. And Hogsmeade is nice, but it isn't to die for."
"If he'd broken into Honeydukes we would've heard."
"Harry, he broke out of Azkaban. He's a dangerous and powerful dark wizard, one of V-Voldemort's chief Lieutenants. I'm sure he can get in and out of a candy store without anyone noticing."
Harry suppressed another glare. "You're full of good sense today"
"I'm just telling you what you already know but don't want to admit."
That was also true. Damn her. "Give me a few days to think about it. And I'll talk to Fred and George. They're the ones who showed it to me, so it should be their decision."
Harry could tell she disagreed, but instead of arguing she pulled him closer and caught his right calf between her ankles, which she'd never done before.
They were silent for a while, until Hermione said, "If you promise not to be foolish with it or go after Black, I'll let you use my time to practice Defence."
#
#
That night, Harry and Hermione sat together on his bed. She was wearing less than usual, and the room was empty except for them, and Harry knew they didn't have to worry about anyone else coming in. The door was bound in stone and steel.
Adopting her most scholarly manner, Hermione put a hand on his thigh and said, "I'm worried we may be falling behind with our relationship. I've made a schedule of what we should be doing when, and it's past time we went to the next level."
Harry said, "Do you mean...?"
"Obviously, we're not going straight to intercourse. That's very advanced, and there's so much else to learn first. I've been doing research, and there's a sexual activity called fellatio I thought we might try. Colloquially known as a blow job, or giving head. Have you heard of it?"
Harry nodded mutely. The boys talked when the girls weren't around. All he could see as she spoke were her red, red lips.
"I'm sure we'll need lots of practice to get it right. I don't know how it will taste, so I thought we should clean it first." A moist towelette, clearly warm, appeared in her hand. "If you'd take off your pants, we can begin."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Harry woke as suddenly as though he'd been hit in the face.
Disoriented in the darkness, realizing that that had been a dream and Hermione wasn't with him and it would be a long, long time before anything like that happened, if ever, Harry fumbled with the hangings around his bed. He heard Seamus' voice from the other side of the room: "What's going on?"
Harry ripped his bed curtains back at the same time Dean Thomas lit a lamp, and he saw Ron sitting up in bed, the hangings torn on one side, a look of utmost terror on his face.
"Black," he said. "Sirius Black. With a knife."
#
#
With Sirius Black's presence and departure confirmed by the portrait, Sir Cadogan, the whole of Gryffindor house gathered in the common room, awaiting word of Black's capture. Harry sat with Hermione, the situation too grave for him to feel awkwardness about a dream he barely remembered.
When Professor McGonagall came back at dawn to report that Black had again escaped, Hermione caught his eye, and Harry understood without her saying anything. Ron could've died. Anyone could've died. And however unlikely it was, it was possible that Sirius Black had come in through the statue of the one-eyed witch.
Amid the tired, frightened students seeking comfort from a stern Professor McGonagall, Harry approached Fred and George, Hermione a step and a half behind him.
Fred and George were sitting on a sofa, talking quietly and seriously, hands chopping the air, a rare display of disagreement between the twins.
Harry squatted beside them and said, "I think we should tell a Professor about the passage behind the one-eyed witch."
One twin said, "That's just what I was telling Fred."
Fred said, "That's probably not even how he got in."
George said, "But what if it is? What if Ron died, or Ginny even, and later we found out that's how he was getting in?"
Fred said, "Well if it were just Ron..."
George hit his arm. "I'm being serious."
Fred spoke to Harry, "Don't you think it's very unlikely? Dumbledore doesn't even know about the one-eyed witch, so how would Sirius Black?"
Harry said, "The same way we do. He was a student here for seven years too. I heard he was a troublemaker at Hogwarts. I heard he and my dad compared to you two. He might know the castle better than the Professors. I doubt any of them ever went looking for ways to sneak in and out so they could go on late night butterbeer runs."
He couldn't imagine Dumbledore doing that, never mind McGonagall or Snape.
"Damn it," said Fred. "Do you think they'd keep it boarded up forever?"
"No," said George. "They knew about the others and didn't cover them up, normally. I reckon Dumbledore thinks sneaking in and out of the castle is youthful character building, but not with a murderer on the loose."
Fred looked from George to Harry. He sighed and heaved himself to his feet, saying, "I hate being responsible. George, let's do it."
The twins went over to Professor McGonagall, and Harry saw her expression change as they spoke.
After a minute, the twins came back.
"Well?" said Harry.
Fred said, "She took 15 points for not telling us earlier—
"—but gave us 30 for telling her now," George concluded.
:::
Whooo! Our heroes being noticeably but not remarkably responsible and mature for people of their age. I feel like that should be a prerequisite for being considered a hero, but it's rarer than jackalopes.
Emoting or winning? Nothing about canon Harry frustrates me more than that he never realized that what he wanted to be true did not have any special relationship to what was true.
I like Lupin, but he's a little frustrating, ain't he?
Monstrosity, by JLL. It's on amazon, in the books department, it costs on 99 cents. It's good. Please at least read the free sample. And if you buy it, review it!
Ch 5: Mental
Each day melted into the others. Valentine's Day was a brief punctuation, but they had no time to do anything about it. He bought a thornless red rose from the Hufflepuff hawking them, and gave it to Hermione. She thanked him, stuck it in her hair, and asked him to pass her the Herbology cut-outs.
It disappointed him, but the next day came, and the next, February passing into March. With exams 'only three months away,' Hermione went into overdrive, gripping him with her left hand while revising her notes or furiously writing essays.
He dragged her out of the castle for the occasional picnic by the lake, but mostly did his best to make studying easier for her, bringing her tea, quizzing her on potions ingredient and runes, hoping she'd have more time for him over Easter hols.
But Harry was working just as hard. He was entertaining hopes of getting an Acceptable in Ancient Runes. Wood had hardly let up on Quidditch practice at all, and had if anything become more fanatical with the Final against Slytherin approaching.
Harry and Hermione spent much of what little free-time they had in the library, looking up court cases to help Hagrid with Buckbeak.
And then there was the extra time. Hermione refused to use her Time Turner with him. To her, it was for class and only for class, their work on Patronuses together a remarkable exception to an iron rule.
Yet she seemed to have little problem letting him borrow it.
"It's not infinite. The sand runs out. Now, they gave me a lot more than they thought I'd need because even the smallest size they make has a lot more than I'd need, and I've been very thrifty with it, and then I dropped a class after Christmas, so there's quite a lot left, but be careful with it. And be sure no one sees you in two places at once. And remember that you're not allowed to try and change the past with it, even though it wouldn't work. And seeing yourself coming and going is alright, but don't interact."
So nearly every night, Harry collected the Time Turner from her after dinner, went to an abandoned classroom, and turned the Time Turner three times, sometimes dealing with displacement, sometimes not, and tried out all the spells in the list Professor had given him. Some he found easy, like the Stunning Charm, and some he found hard. The Summoning Charm in particular drove him mad, but he kept at it, and eventually started pulling sticks and books unsteadily across the room.
For every spell, he concocted myriads of scenarios for how it would allow him to defeat Black, or at least get Black caught. Black would be standing on a loose tile, for example, and he'd use the Summoning Charm to pull it out from under him, and Black would fall and hit his head on stone.
When three hours were almost up, Harry would put his invisibility cloak on and wait for his younger self to come in. His younger self would hold the door open for him to leave through, and when he was out in the hall, he'd take the cloak off.
Once, his younger self came before he'd gotten his invisibility cloak on, and they'd nodded at each other.
Then, he'd go directly back to Hermione, discreetly slip the Time Turner back to her, and depending on what day it was, either do homework with her or go to Quidditch practice. He'd shortly added more time than she had through the whole course of the year, but Hermione looked at his sand consumption, pronounced it "acceptable," and insisted that he get at least nine hours of sleep every night.
He tried, but resisted all of her hints that he should use it less, eventually admitting that he liked the idea that they were getting closer in age.
Once a week, most weeks, he was tutored at dueling and self-defense by Professor Lupin for one hour, and he felt guilty at Lupin's lavish praise for 'improving so quickly even with all else you have to do.'
Harry and Hermione tossed around wild plans for getting Sirius Black caught but they were all either ridiculous, too dangerous (according to Hermione) or required more advanced magic than they knew, and Harry wasn't willing to approach a Professor, certain they'd be told off.
It was strange to plot without Ron, but Ron was being an absolute git, especially to Hermione, making loud remarks in her hearing about how much Scabbers would enjoy the weather or the cheese or whatnot, and kept telling her to get rid of Crookshanks. Harry had gotten in several spats with him as a result.
Ron, meanwhile, seemed perfectly happy with Dean and Seamus.
One night, Hermione said, "Do you think I should apologize to Ron?"
Harry frowned. "I think Crookshanks probably ate Scabbers. Maybe not, but probably. Crookshanks was just being a cat, but still. You should say how sorry you are. And if Ron still wants revenge on Crookshanks, you two could give him a funny hair-cut together. Shave the topcoat off most of his body except leave some around his neck like a mane so he looks like a little lion."
She smiled at the joke, but was waiting tensely for him to finish.
"But, to me, all that is only after he's gotten on his knees and begged for your forgiveness. He's said way too much, and we've already tried to make up with him before. He has to apologize first now."
"I think so too," said Hermione.
There were silent for a moment, and Harry said, "Do you miss him?" expecting that she would say she did, and they'd reminisce about good times with Ron.
Hermione said, "At first I did. But now, sometimes I'm glad he's gone. We always fought. He made fun of me. People made fun of me every day at my muggle school, and even after Ron and I made friends, he kept on doing it. And I tried to convince myself it was good-spirited joshing, but I don't like being told I read too much or I'm a right terror or stuck up or I'm mental for studying hard or for being curious about the world and liking to learn, mental this, mental that, clearly something's wrong with me if I'm interested in anything he's not interested in, which restricts me tightly to Quidditch and chess, and when we disagree, never mind what logic says, whatever he thinks must by definition be right because he's the one thinking it, and when he gives you bad advice and you follow it, because until these past few months, you always followed his, not mine, he just might apologize to you for steering him wrong, but would he ever acknowledge it to me? Not likely! Who would acknowledge something like that to a girl? Not Ronald."
Hermione took a deep, having got all that out in one breath, and said, "But he could be sweet sometimes. And he did try to hex Malfoy in second year over me, but then he never needed much excuse to fight Malfoy, now did he, and considering how jealous and possessive he is, why, he might've responded much the same if Malfoy had insulted his robes, or Scabbers, because clearly I don't matter as much to him as his damn rat."
Shocked by the vehemence of her response, and by the fact that Hermione Granger had used curse words, Harry could only stare.
"But yes, I guess I do miss him. I want to be on speaking terms with him at least. Because he was my second ever friend, just a minute after you, like twins being born, and we went through so much together, with the Stone and the Chamber. I've never had a sibling, but maybe he's like a brother. A really, really annoying younger brother who I keep hoping will grow up and stop being such a colossal ass."
She took several more deep breaths, then folded her hands on her lap, nervously awaiting his response.
Defences of Ron sprung to mind, but Harry wasn't in any mood to defend Ron. "I'm sorry. I should've made him be nicer to you."
"I know you talked to him about it sometimes. And you'd give him a look when you thought he was taking it too far."
"But sometimes I laughed," said Harry. Ron had said a lot to Hermione, and he'd never really thought about it before, about how it must come across to Hermione to hear it day after day.
"Sometimes he was funny," said Hermione. "Maybe I'm being oversensitive. It's a bad person who can't handle being poked fun at."
"He never poked fun at me like that. I don't think I would've liked it if he did." Granted, Hermione had been known to say things to Ron that suggested he was stupid or lazy or bound for an early death, usually prefaced by the word 'honestly,' but such comments were usually after Ron had driven her spare.
He'd always known that. He'd just always thought of it as harmless bickering. It'd never occurred to him that it might not seem like that to Hermione.
It still didn't occur to him that it might not seem like that to Ron.
Hermione said, "So you see, I'm not nearly so surprised as you about how nasty he's been to us lately, though I never expected him to be so nasty to you. Jealousy driving him mad, I suppose."
Jealousy. He hadn't mentioned it to Hermione, since it seemed private, but considering everything else they'd just been saying about Ron... Harry said, "He wasn't completely clear about it, but the night I got the Firebolt back, before the big argument, he told me he'd always thought we would date. He and I. So. I think that must be part of why he reacted so badly when us two started dating."
Hermione stared at him for a moment, completely taken aback. Then realization swept over her face, and she began to giggle. She rested her body on the table, shoulder's shaking with suppressed laughter, and when the giggles subsided she looked up with tears of mirth in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "This shouldn't be funny. It makes sense. He told me myriads of times this year that he liked girls and wasn't a 'poofter.' I wondered why he was bringing it up. Now I understand. He was in denial. I'm surprised he would be so honest with himself, never mind with you. That was very brave of him to admit. If we start talking again, we'll have to make clear we support him and don't think any less of him for it."
"We don't?" Harry said.
"What would be wrong with it?"
Uncle Vernon had made a number of comments about 'poofters,' but Harry supposed Uncle Vernon not liking something was evidence in its favor.
"Nothing, I guess," Harry said.
"And we shouldn't say 'poofter.' It's rude. We should say homosexual, or gay, even if it is an Americanism."
But they had no opportunities to express their support, even if they'd wanted to. Ron avoided them, and when he didn't, he was nasty, telling Hermione that her hair needed pruning and telling Harry that he was only good at Quidditch because he used expensive brooms.
Easter hols came, and rather than a time of relaxation as he'd hoped, it was a time for obscene quantities of homework, but at last, finally, the final Quidditch match came. Gryffindor vs Slytherin. A short but brutal match, with Slytherin fouling whenever they could get away with it and even when they couldn't. It ended when Harry knocked Malfoy's arm aside and snatched the Snitch.
The euphoria of winning the Quidditch cup was nearly matched by his relief at not having to go to nearly daily Quidditch practices anymore, and actually having time to goof off.
Except, Hermione was not receptive to goofing off. And not just that she didn't want to goof off. She didn't want him to do it either.
He'd have a decent essay, and she'd insist that he'd revise, at which point he'd have a good essay, which was fine. But then she'd insist that he revise it again. Or he'd be confident about a test, expecting to get a good score, and she'd want him to study until he could guarantee getting every answer perfect.
It'd been fine when Quidditch had still been in session, and he'd had far too much to do and had needed to work his fingers to the bone to do alright, but that was no longer the case and it was driving him batty.
It had always been a problem with Hermione, and Ron had always handled it.
Ron would say they had better things to do than just school and not everyone was cut out to spend life going mental over a stack of books. Then the argument would be on, and Harry would look for a game of Exploding Snap.
But now he and Hermione had to make it work themselves.
Hermione said, "Harry, The paragraphs in your essay about the distinction between possession by contact and possession by use could use more detail and a clearer disambiguation between function and functionality."
Harry took a breath. This was the moment. "Hermione, it's plenty good enough. I want to do well, but I don't need it to be perfect, and I care a lot more about spells than essays."
Hermione said, "Oh, but when you understand the theory properly, your spellwork will improve."
Harry plowed on with what he'd planned to say. A little speech he'd prepared with the help of his inner Hermione. "I appreciate that you push me to do what I know I need to do but don't want to. But I don't like when you make out that I need to do the things you like doing. Like endlessly revising essays until they can be bound and put in textbooks. I like that you do it, but we have slightly different priorities, and I need you to respect that."
He stared into her eyes, willing her to understand that he was serious.
Hermione said, "But you could get all Os if you really pushed yourself. You could challenge me for the top spot, even."
That stunned him. "No I couldn't."
"Yes you could. I'm not special, Harry. I just work hard."
"You do work hard, harder than anyone I know, but... no. You're brilliant and you're talented. I guess I'm better than you at practical defence, and if I worked as hard as you, maybe I could catch you in another one or two classes, but not in general. No way."
Hermione said, "Yes you could. You're smarter and more talented than you realize."
"I-" was he? Was he really? "If I am, so are you." He was getting distracted. "But even if I could catch you as the number one student in the year, which I couldn't, it wouldn't be worth it to me. I want to do well, and very well at some things, but I'd rather get a mix of Es and Os and go for a fly most days than get all Os and not fly much."
Hermione looked glumly at the table. "You want me to stop nagging you."
"No!" said Harry. "I want you to nag me. It's great. I love that about you. I depend on it more than I should. I just want you to nag me less, especially when what you're nagging me about is already fine."
He gulped. He'd told himself to not say 'nagging.' He'd planned to refer to it as 'encouragement and constructive criticism.' But she'd said 'nag,' so he'd said it back, and now he awaited an explosion.
Hermione didn't explode. She sounded miserable as she said, "I know. I tell myself not to nag you so much. I know I shouldn't. But I just can't not say it. Once I think of it, the words are bursting. They have to come out. I have the same problem in class."
Harry said, "Is that why after class you'd always tell me and Ron everything you'd wanted to tell the class but couldn't when you weren't called on?"
"Yes. It's very silly, I know. I'll try harder to not nag you." Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, visibly centering herself. She said, "Your essay could be better. Making it so would be a productive use of your time. But it's good enough, and you can do whatever you like. Now get the essay out of my sight so I don't think about it."
That conversation didn't resolve it, but it made it better. A week and a half later, he saw her writing in a small notebook labeled "Excessive Nagging."
Apparently, when she wanted to nag him but knew she shouldn't, she wrote it in the notebook instead, letting the words out that way.
The word 'mental' crossed his mind, but what crossed his mouth was laughter, followed by "Thank you," and "Good coping mechanism," and insisted that she let him read it.
With Harry's schedule moderately opened up, he found he had little idea what to do with the extra time other than go for flys, walk the grounds, practice spells and try to find a game Neville was good at. When he complained once of being bored, Hermione reached into her massive book bag and tossed Hogwarts, A History at him.
It was several times more interesting than he'd thought it would be, which was to say, it did not bore him to tears, and, at the end of a week, when he'd finished it, he felt closer to Hermione for having read it, but he did not mention being bored to Hermione ever again.
When Ron saw Harry reading it, he called Harry a swot, which Harry decided to take as a compliment, though he did not think it was very accurate.
Neville spent time with them more and more, and Harry had bitter thoughts of Neville settling in as Ron's replacement, less troublesome and better with plants. But not nearly as fun, and he, Harry, was having to provide the bulk of the comedic relief, and he and Hermione were slowly filling the Ron-shaped hole in their lives with quips, inside jokes, and a commitment to play a 'silly game' at least twice weekly. A short game, usually. Not more than 20 minutes. Hermione had homework and studying to do.
At Hermione's request, he pulled back on how much he was using the Time Turner, though without Quidditch practice, he was practicing Defence even more than before, and all the spells were coming along, even the Summoning Charm.
And all the time, he kept looking at the Marauder's Map, hoping to catch sight of Sirius Black. He never did, but he saw another name. It hardly meant anything to him at first, but every time he saw it, it puzzled him more.
Peter Pettigrew.
:::
I don't hate Ron, but I see Ron's 'courtship' of Hermione as 7 years of negging.
But he wasn't always that bad. In my headcanon, Ron started trying to flirt with Hermione third-year, and he did this by saying, at random moments, "I'm not a poofter. And hey, Hermione, look, I've got armpit hair now. This one long one grows all the way down to my wrist. I don't know how it got that far without my noticing."
Ch 6: Mishappenings
Harry and Hermione were sitting at their table in the common room, Hermione studying for Astronomy while Harry made a very angry knight from a chessboard fly around the common room, ranting up a storm.
Fred and George came through the portrait hole, and Harry flagged them down.
Fred said, "You wish to speak to us, Queen and King of Gryffindor..."
George said, "The Golden Duo..."
"The married couple..."
Hermione said. "We're not married. Stop saying that. A first-year girl the other day very seriously asked me how we got the Magistrate to approve."
George said, "You do know most third-year couple last about between two hours and two weeks?"
"You two have been going steady for coming up on five months."
"By ickle thirdie standards, that's a lifetime."
Harry said, "Peter Pettigrew."
The name brought them to a halt, but only briefly.
Fred said, "The mishap in the map. We reckon he was one of the original map makers, and a ghost of him, sort of, is still in the map."
George said, "Mostly the map has him in Gryffindor Tower, but he does go to classes and the like. The Marauders were Gryffindors, see. The map told us that much."
Harry said, "I haven't been seeing him in Gryffindor Tower. I've been seeing him around the grounds, in the kitchens, the dungeons, all sorts of places. But wait, you think Peter Pettigrew was one of the mapmakers? How sure are you?"
Fred said, "Pretty sure. The map'll tell jokes and insult people if you promp it. Pettigrew is Wormtail, based on how the map responds when we mention the name."
Harry met Hermione's eyes. At their weekly sessions, he always probed Lupin for details about his parents, and a lot had slipped. Harry said, "Peter Pettigrew was part of a group of four friends. James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin."
"Sirius..." George shook his head, clearly disliking the idea of Sirius Black being one of the Marauders. "It could be a different Peter Pettigrew. There can't have only ever been one wizard to have the name."
Harry rubbed his chin, surprised, and said, "Prongs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. I didn't think it meant anything at the time, but my Patronus is a stag. You saw that at the Quidditch match. Lupin told me that my dad's Patronus was a stag too, and he called it Prongs. My dad, James Potter, must've been Prongs."
"If that's true, then Lupin must be Moony," said Fred, sounding awed, then slapped his own hand over his mouth.
"Why not Padfoot?" said Hermione.
"No reason," said Fred.
"We just think Lupin's got a nice butt," said George. "He ought to moon everyone."
Fred sent George a withering glance at that poor excuse.
Hermione said, "It has nothing to do with his illness?"
Fred said, "His monthly illness?"
Harry said, "The one he doesn't want anyone talking about."
Hermione said, "The reason he prefers rare meat at the dinner table."
George said, "His furry little problem, one might call it."
The four of them gave each other significant looks, and Hermione said, "I wonder how many people have figured it out."
"Must be loads," said Fred. "Snape made it bloody obvious with all those hints. You'd have to be right dull to not see it."
Harry, who hadn't seen it until Hermione had practically told him, pretended to himself that he had.
George said, "If that's true, Sirius Black must be Padfoot."
"Padfoot's always been my favorite," said Fred. "This is horrible."
George commiserated with Fred, assuring him that Moony and Prongs were both better anyway.
Harry was shocked in a good way by the idea that his dad had helped make the map, and shocked in a bad way that Sirius Black had helped too.
Hermione said, "What if it weren't a mistake in the map? What if it were true that Peter Pettigrew is still here?"
George said, "We've walked into rooms where the map said 'Peter Pettigrew' loads of times, and he's never been there."
Hermione said, "But what if it were true? What would that mean? Just think about it for a moment."
After a moment's thought, Fred said, "It would mean something right weird, it would. Peter Pettigrew's been turning up on the map ever since we first got it, years ago."
To Harry, the idea was absurd, yet Hermione's face was screwed up in concentration.
Harry said, "What, you think he's spent the last 12 years hiding out in Hogwarts under an invisibility cloak, snitching food from the kitchens?"
"I don't know," she said. "But it's too much of a coincidence to think it doesn't mean anything. Harry, the next time you see Pettigrew's name on the map, we'll go there, and we'll use the spell Professor Lupin taught you for finding people."
"Hominum Revelio?" said Harry. "It's hard but it's not that hard. You could learn it right quick."
But as days went by, Harry didn't see Pettigrew's name, and they began to spend time on a different problem. What they were going to do about Buckbeak, who was scheduled for execution the day they finished their exams.
#
#
Exams, in Harry's opinion, went well. In Transfiguration, they turned teapots into tortoises, and Harry frowned about his tortoise looking more like a turtle, and Hermione fussed that the lines of her tortoise's shell didn't follow the shell's curve properly, but Harry knew he'd done better than anyone but her and she'd done better than anyone else.
Harry took grim pleasure in seeing that Ron's tortoise was little more than a teapot with stubby legs and a half-formed shell.
Charms was easy. They'd been casting Cheering Charms on each other often enough anyway, and the good mood from it persisted through his Runes exam, where he knew more answers than he'd expected. The first day of exams was over.
Care of Magical Creatures the next day was hardly an exam at all, and Harry didn't know whether to be proud or annoyed that he'd let Hermione nag him into studying for it, but the exam did leave plenty of time for talking with Hagrid about Buckbeak. Hagrid was as depressed as he said Buckbeak was, and he kept muttering, 'day after tomorrow.'
Potions wasn't great. When he finally got his Confusing Concoction to thicken, it thickened too much, but it wasn't gelatinous, at least, and Harry thought even Snape couldn't justify less than a P.
The Astronomy exam, at midnight on the tallest tower, was almost romantic once Hermione had finished checking her answers for the third time.
History of Magic on Wednesday morning was a bunch of questions Harry knew the answers to because he'd quizzed Hermione on them so often. The main challenge was making sure he used his own phrasings. Wednesday afternoon was Herbology, where he found himself wishing he'd tuned out Neville less, but a Cooling Charm he cast on himself and Hermione canceled out the heat of the greenhouses, even if it did nothing for his sunburning neck.
Thursday morning was Defence, a practical exam based around an obstacle course. Harry strolled through, feeling as if he could do it left-handed, and Hermione did everything perfectly until she entered the last obstacle, a very large trunk with a boggart inside.
There were three minutes of silence, and Professor Lupin was just about to enter to see what had gone wrong when Hermione exited, successful, but pale-cheeked and red-eyed.
Harry led her away from the others, and when a bit of color had returned to her cheeks, said, "What was it?"
"Professor McGonagall. She told me I'd failed out of Hogwarts. I made her small and I made her robes purple and green and I made her speak in a high squeaky voice like a child, while holding a sippy cup."
Harry said, "That took three minutes?"
She took his hand and squeezed it so hard it hurt. "At first it was you and Ron. You were saying awful things, and you said you much preferred Ron and I was only good helping with homework. I knew it wasn't real, but I couldn't think of any way to make it funny, so I just stood there. Since I wasn't running away, it turned into McGonagall. Trying another tact. That one, I could make funny."
And what could he say to that other than, "You know I'd never do that. You're a much better friend than Ron ever was."
"He's more fun than I am."
Harry shrugged. "He's more fun than I am too. Does that mean you like him more? There are more important things than fun." He pulled her close and kissed her on the cheek. "Hermione Granger, you are satisfying."
As the word 'satisfying' echoed in his ears, Harry winced, appalled at the chasm between how it had sounded in his head and how it sounded out loud. It made him think of 'satisfactory,' as in, 'good enough' and it also made him think of sexual things, especially since he'd just kissed her, but that wasn't what he'd meant at all.
Harry said, "Err, I mean satisfying like a hard day's work is satisfying. Err, no, that's not what I mean. I mean like a good meal is satisfying, it gives you what you really need to live. Not that you're food. I mean-"
Hermione kissed him. Her eyes were large and dark, and the paleness had left her cheeks entirely.
"I find you satisfying too," she said, and they proceeded hand in hand to the castle.
Harry thought it was the best moment of their whole relationship, until Hermione spoiled it by reciting facts about electricity consumption and per-capita retail square footage in preparation for her Muggle Studies exam. But that was only to be expected, so he smiled wryly and squeezed her hand.
At the top of the steps leading into the castle, was Minister Cornelius Fudge, sweating slightly in his pinstriped cloak. He started at the sight of Harry, and Harry released Hermione's hand. From the way she was rigid, he knew she recognized Fudge from the paper.
"Hello there, Harry!" Fudge said. "Just had an exam, I expect? Nearly finished?"
"Yes," said Harry. "It was my last."
Hermione, not being on speaking terms with the Minister of Magic, stood awkwardly at his side.
"Lovely day," said Fudge, casting an eye over the lake. "Pity... pity..."
He sighed deeply and looked down at Harry.
"I'm here on an unpleasant mission, Harry. The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures required at witness to the execution of a mad hippogriff. As I needed to visit Hogwarts to check on the Black situation, I was asked to step in."
Harry did his very best Hermione impression. "The hippogriff Buckbeak? Friendly animal. I watched what happened, and Draco Malfoy very clearly disregarded the Professor's instructions regarding the proper way to approach hippogriffs, and I saw the injury. Just a quick peck. Looked like the sort of cut Madam Pomfrey could clear up in 10 minutes."
Fudge peered at Harry. "I'm afraid that however it appeared to you, the injury young Mr. Malfoy suffered was far more severe than that."
Hermione raised her hand, which caused Fudge to give her a puzzled look and nod for her to speak.
Hermione said, "If you're here to witness the execution, does that mean the appeal has already happened?"
"No, it's scheduled for this afternoon," said Fudge.
Hermione's lips thinned, and two wizards came though the castle doors behind Fudge. One was so ancient he appeared to be withering before their very eyes; the other was tall and strapping, with a thin black mustache. Harry gathered they were representatives of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, because the very old wizard squinted toward Hagrid's cabin and said, in a feeble voice, "Dear, dear, I'm getting too old for this... Two o'clock, isn't it, Fudge?"
The black-mustached man was fingering one broad thumb along the blade of a shining axe.
Harry tried to think of something else he might say, and Hermione nudged him hard in the ribs and jerked her head toward the entrance hall.
"Nice seeing you again, Minister," said Harry, and Harry and Hermione walked up into the entrance hall.
When they'd got far enough away to speak without being overheard, Harry said, "Why'd you stop me? It sounds like Hagrid could use all the help he can get."
Looking miserable, Hermione said, "As long as Hagrid keeps his head and argues his case properly, they can't possibly execute Buckbeak."
"You don't believe that," he said.
"If plan B is go, we don't want them thinking of us after."
Harry thought of how the black-mustached man had stroked his axe. "Plan B is go," he said.
#
#
The first problem with simply freeing Buckbeak was that Hagrid would be blamed for it. Which meant Hagrid needed an alibi. And in order for Hagrid to have an alibi, the Ministry needed to know when Buckbeak escaped.
They were depending a lot on luck, but every plan they'd come up with that didn't depend on luck had the downside of being hilariously complicated or extremely criminal, or both.
The first step was to do it while invisible. The second step was to be somewhere else while it happened.
They got a letter from Hagrid saying simply that he'd lost the appeal and the execution was scheduled for sunset. Harry fingered his cloak, and they went to dinner together.
After dinner, they disappeared around a corner together, and Hermione checked her watch and wrote the time on her pocket planner. Harry threw the invisibility cloak over them, and they left the castle, walking as quietly as they could, escaping onto the grounds, heading down the hill to Hagrid's cabin.
They did a circuit of the cabin, and saw Buckbeak tied to a fence in Hagrid's pumpkin patch.
They set down to wait on the lee side of a little wooded knoll, and Harry took out the Marauder's Map.
Harry frowned, surprised by what he saw, wishing it could've happened at any other time. "According to the map, Peter Pettigrew is with Hagrid in his cabin."
Hermione glanced at the falling sun, large and orange, gilding the trees. "I don't think we have time. Where's Minister Fudge?"
"Coming down from the Great Hall, with the other two, and Dumbledore." And there was another name ahead of them, headed straight for the cabin, nearly to it. "What the hell? Why now?" said Harry.
"Language, Harry. But what is it?"
Rather than pointing to the map, he pointed to familiar red-headed figure coming down the hill.
"Ron," Hermione breathed, as the boy ran up to Hagrid's door and knocked on it.
"He's going to mess up everything," said Harry.
Hermione said, "Or he'll supply a needed distraction. Harry, how long until Fudge gets here?"
He looked at the map. The group of four hadn't moved far since he'd last looked. "They're going slowly," he said. "Probably because of that old man." Either Walden Macnair or Elvrid Gnocklebicker. He had no idea which was which.
From her bag, Hermione took out a large pair of red-handled garden shears. She'd Transfigured them after examining Buckbeath's mouth, and its blades were curved and slightly serrated. They hoped it would look as if Buckbeak had bit through the rope.
She handed the shears to Harry, who took them absently, still staring at the map. There would've still been plenty of light to read by if he hadn't been in the shadow of a tree, but he was, so it was getting hard to read, but it looked to him as if Pettigrew and Ron were on top of each other.
Fudge and the others came down from the castle, looked at Buckbeak, tied to the fence in the pumpkin patch, and the one with the axe knocked on the door.
Inside the cabin, Pettigrew and Ron separated. Pettigrew came out the side of the cabin, and a moment later, Ron went out the back door.
Hagrid opened the door, and the wizards followed him inside.
Hermione said, "Harry, we're golden."
Gathering the invisibility cloak firmly around himself, he left Hermione hiding behind a log, looking at the map
Still holding the invisibility cloak tight, Harry hopped the fence leading into Hagrid's pumpkin patch, and he saw what he had not expected.
Ron, in the pumpkin patch, bowing to Buckbeak.
:::
I don't especially like Ron, but he's not a bad guy, you know?
Two more chapters until the end? Maybe three.