Note to MNFF Staff: A big thank you to Robin for her suggestions and for moderating my previous chapters. I’d like to request that she also review this submission.
Disclaimer: The usual, none of the characters are mine; they were created by Ms. J.K. Rowling. The only thing I can claim to own in all this is my imagination.
As the darkness in twelve, Grimmauld Place was grudgingly replaced by the sunlight filtering in through the few de-grimed windows; a very groggy Harry stumbled downstairs to the kitchen. After a late night spent listening to the unusual tale of Regulus Black’s life, Harry hadn’t slept much, having been kept awake by an internal debate on the pros and cons of accepting Regulus’ story. When he had finally fallen asleep at five in the morning, he had made up his mind to trust Regulus but also to keep him at an arm’s length, just in case. And now barely three hours later he was groping his way to a cup of some strengthening fluid.
Pushing open the door to the kitchen, Harry paused as the heavenly aroma of bacon and eggs assailed his nostrils. He pried his half-open eyelids a little further up, and noticed Regulus standing over the stove and stirring the contents of a steaming pot. Harry concluded that Regulus, like himself, had learnt to forage for himself, and by the smell of things, had learnt very well. Harry strolled over to the table and pulled up a chair for himself.
Hearing the sound of the chair scraping along the floor, Regulus spun around and seeing Harry, his face split in a wide grin. It occurred to Harry that the two brothers were very alike; Sirius also had had the habit of keeping a smile almost permanently glued to his face. Harry remembered with a pang, that Sirius had even been smiling seconds before he had fallen through the veil in the Department of Mysteries.
“Good morning,” Regulus said, a view to which Harry was yet to subscribe, “It appears that our discussion earlier hasn’t been too conducive to a good night’s sleep.”
“No,” said Harry, speaking thickly, and wishing Regulus wouldn’t look so like a fresh daisy, it was giving him a headache.
“Nothing a good strong cup of tea won’t cure,” Regulus continued, and taking the pot he had been stirring off the stove, he poured some of the contents into a cup and passed it over to Harry. Harry let the steam rising off the healing brew swirl around his face, and slowly the pain in his temples subsided. Feeling a little better, he began to take regular sips, and he had to admit that Regulus definitely had a way with tea. With something approaching normalcy, Harry was even able to muster a reasonably cheerful smile.
“Boy, I really needed that,” Harry stated, blinking to clear the last mists of sleep from his fogged mind. He watched as Regulus ladled out a generous helping of bacon and eggs onto a plate, which was then placed in front of him. Regulus then picked up his own cup of tea and plate of food and joined Harry at the table.
“How did you get the bacon and the eggs? Did you conjure them up?” Harry asked interestedly, as he forked a sliver of bacon and transported it to his mouth, and then promptly spat it back into his plate. “Why the heck didn’t you tell me it was hot?” he queried chagrined, his eyes streaming.
“I would have thought it was obvious,” Regulus answered grinning, “You did see me take it off the stove.” Still chuckling, he passed Harry a jug of cool water, which Harry proceeded to gulp down as fast as he could. As the burning sensation died down, to be replaced by complete numbness, Harry was convinced that he would be unable to taste again.
“To answer your question, Harry, I didn’t conjure up the food,” Regulus proceeded, “There’s a useful little store nearby that stocks all that I need. I remembered it from the time that I used to live here. Their food is pretty good, try it.”
Harry eyed the contents of his plate suspiciously, as if expecting it to jump up and bite him. Gingerly, he skewered another slice of bacon and after diligently blowing on it till it fluttered like a tree in the high wind, he ate it. Slowly the pain diminished as he chewed on the bacon that had obviously been made from contented pigs. By the time Regulus, who had been pouring a spot of firewhiskey into his tea, looked up, Harry’s plate was clean.
“Whoa, that was fast,” Regulus observed, his eyes widening in surprise, “Did you just inhale all your food or something?”
“Hey, I grew up in a house with a fat uncle and a fatter cousin,” Harry explained, “If you didn’t eat fast, you didn’t eat at all.”
Regulus laughed out loud, and even Harry, whose thoughts of late had veered more towards the morbid that the humorous, cracked a smile. “Would you like some more?” Regulus asked when his spasm of mirth had exhausted itself.
“Nah, that was enough. Wouldn’t mind some more tea though,” Harry replied hopefully.
“Help yourself, there’s plenty more in the teapot,” Regulus said, gesturing towards a ghastly piece of crockery that Harry had not noticed thus far. When Harry laid eyes on it, he recoiled in horror, causing his fork, which he had been holding loosely, to fly through the air and narrowly miss impaling Regulus. Regulus, who had had to duck in a hurry to avoid the missile, emerged slowly and hastened to make the necessary explanations.
“Sorry, I should have warned you about that, it does give people a bit of a start when they first see it,” Regulus said, going back to his food, “It was one of my mother’s. She did have a taste for the… bizarre.”
Harry could well believe it. The pot was shaped like a nasty pig-like creature with fish scales, a malicious sneer and a snake for a tongue that formed the spout for the pot. Time had caused the paint to darken giving it an even more forbidding look. Harry approached the pot warily, expecting to come alive at any moment and attack him. But it was an extremely well behaved teapot and Harry poured himself another cup of tea quickly, gave a small shudder, and hurriedly returned to his seat.
“So what’s the plan for the day?” he asked, when he had managed to calm his fluttering nerves a bit. Regulus, who had just taken aboard a mouthful of eggs, champed in silence before replying.
“First of all, I’m going to show you how to get into the Black family library…” Regulus started and then paused. “What are you grinning about?” he asked.
Harry, whose mouth had curved upwards, when the library had been mentioned, hastily resumed his somber expression. “Nothing,” he mumbled, and then when he noticed Regulus looking at him questioningly with his eyebrows raised, he proceeded, “I was just thinking of what the reactions of my two best friends would have been like if they had heard that there was a secret Black library.”
“Oh,” Regulus answered, and then a thought seemed to strike him. “I’m surprised Sirius didn’t show you the library,” he continued, looking at Harry.
“When we were at Grimmauld Place earlier, we didn’t really need to do any research,” Harry responded, “And maybe Sirius didn’t want to show us the library because, like you said, there are certain leanings towards the Dark Arts, and maybe Sirius didn’t want to expose us to that.”
“True,” Regulus mumbled as he chewed, “Well anyway, as I was saying, I’ll show you the Black library. There are some really old books down there, and you may be able to find something about Horcruxes. I’ve looked through a few already, didn’t find anything though. But since you’ve been under Dumbledore’s tutelage, you might have a fresh perspective on what to look for.”
Where’s Hermione when you need her!!!, Harry thought as he nodded gloomily; he hated research work. But he knew also that it was something that needed to be done. “What about you? What are you going to do today?” Harry asked dispiritedly.
“I’m going to Flourish and Blotts,” Regulus replied calmly, and then noticing Harry’s look of alarm, he laughed again. “Don’t worry, I won’t be recognized,” he said confidently, and he took a final swig of tea and set the cup aside.
Harry nodded, but he couldn’t help feeling that there was a streak of recklessness that seemed to be characteristic of the Black brothers. As Regulus cleared up breakfast (after assuring Harry that he was glad to do it and really needed no help), Harry headed back up to his room and, pulling out a parchment, he began to write.
The dull murmur in the Great Hall at breakfast time wasn’t interrupting Ron’s appreciation of the house-elves’ mastery at cooking and he was getting his daily essential nourishment. Moments later there was a sound like a mighty rushing wind and Hermione plunked her books down on the Gryffindor table and began to pile food on her plate.
“Err… Hermione, you might want to chew before you swallow. You wouldn’t want to choke before the N.E.W.Ts, would you?” said Ron with a twinkle in his eye. Hermione satisfied herself with shooting a disparaging look at Ron before resuming her eating.
“Seriously, Hermione, you should slow down a little on the studying. I mean, the N.E.W.Ts are a while away and I think you’re pushing yourself too hard,” said Ron, abandoning his flippant tone and now sounding worried. Ginny who happened to be passing by, sat down next to them and supported her brother’s stand.
“Yeah, Hermione, what with your Head Girl duties, and other activities, and the N.E.W.Ts I think you’ll wear away to a shadow soon,” she said. Hermione was saved the need to answer by the arrival of the morning post. Ron and Ginny had received letters from their mother with information on how the rest of the family was doing. Hermione looked up hopefully but all the owls passed by, and except for the Daily Prophet, she had no other mail. Ginny noticed her disappointment and tried to extend some comfort.
“I’m sure your parents are fine, Hermione,” she said gently.
“I know, but I just wish I could hear from them,” Hermione replied sadly.
“Well, with that Fidelius charm thing I’m sure they’re safe… Ouch,” exclaimed Ron, glaring at his sister who had pinched his arm. But the damage was done and battle lines had been drawn.
“And what’s that supposed to mean, Ron?” Hermione asked, turning on him sharply. Ginny made a warning noise in the back of her throat, wishing that she had the time to clump Ron over the head and see sense.
“Considering all that Mum and Dad have done for him, I’d have thought Harry would have made arrangements for their security as well,” said Ron, ignoring his sister’s attempts at getting his attention.
Hermione looked at him as if he had gone totally off his head. “Ron, you really are thick aren’t you?” she asked dangerously, “Whose idea do you think it was to move the headquarters of the Order to the Burrow?”
“Lupin’s I thought,” Ron fired back, again ignoring Ginny’s sigh of exasperation, “And anyway what difference does that make?”
“First, it was Harry’s idea to move the Order since the Order HQ has to be guarded by certain powerful charms including the Fidelius,” Hermione rebutted triumphantly, “Not only that, since it is the HQ now, there’ll always be one or two Order members present at the Burrow at all times. So, you see, your parents are very safe.”
Ron and Ginny’s mouths dropped open in unison, making them look like a comical duo in a cross-talk act. Quite obviously, this piece of news had been completely unexpected. “How do you know this?” asked Ron, clearly deflated.
“Because I asked Lupin,” Hermione answered, continuing to rub it in, “Apparently, Harry told him that with Dumbledore’s and Sirius’ death, he thought that it would be better to move the Order to a place where there would be somebody at all times. Lupin agreed and so they moved HQ to the Burrow.”
Ginny, who had been thinking hard, voiced her concern. “But if the Fidelius charm is on our house then that means Ron and I can’t go back there for the holidays,” she said.
Hermione snorted with impatience. “Don’t you see, the Secret Keeper is Lupin and you remember what he said at the first Order meeting after the wedding?”
“Erm… what did he say?” Ron asked sheepishly.
“He said welcome to the Burrow, new headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Since as Secret Keeper he told us that, it means we can now find it without any trouble,” she explained with the exaggerated patience of a teacher explaining her subject to a class of not too bright students.
“But the question is “ why did Harry do that?” Ron put in, still reeling slightly at these new revelations. Ron had meant this as a rhetorical question, sort of a heart-cry. Instead, to his great surprise, Hermione apparently had answers to rhetorical queries as well.
“Isn’t it obvious?” she replied, sighing, “At Bill’s wedding there were lots of people present, right? And there was a possibility that some of them might have been in league with Voldemort. So once they saw all of us returning to the Burrow, they’d want to attack it immediately. By shifting HQ to the Burrow, Harry made sure that even when he was gone, no one could attack its inhabitants, thanks to all the enchantments.”
That Harry was capable of all this cloak-and-dagger stuff was quite a revelation to the Weasley siblings. As they sat mulling over his actions, Neville Longbottom, who had a letter in his hand and a very puzzled expression on his face, joined their merry little group.
“What have you got there, Neville?” asked Ron, hoping to change the subject. He was feeling extremely guilty about doubting his missing best friend, and he hoped that a few moments of Neville’s well meaning but klutzy companionship might do something to assuage that guilt.
“A letter from my grandmother,” Neville replied, still looking slightly dazed, “Remember she went to visit her relatives during the holidays, which is why I stayed with you guys? Well, she’s back home and she’s written to me asking me to thank Harry.”
“Thank Harry?” Ginny blurted out in astonishment, “Whatever for?”
” For…” Neville consulted the letter again, “giving her the idea of visiting her relatives. Oh, and also for advising her to ask your mum if I could stay at your place for the rest of the holidays.”
If Ron and Ginny hadn’t known Neville better, they would have thought that he had been having a go at something stronger than butterbeer. ‘Harry moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform’ about summed up their thoughts. Ron turned to ask Hermione what she thought of this latest exhibition of Harry’s lunacy, to find that she was already waving energetically towards the Ravenclaw table, and soon Luna Lovegood joined them.
“Hello all, any news of Harry?” she asked, peering around dreamily, as if expecting to see Harry emerge from under the table.
“No, Luna, we haven’t heard anything,” said Hermione briskly, “but we wanted to ask you who tipped your dad off about the dragon story?”
“Harry did actually,” Luna informed them, still looking as if she had wandered into the Great Hall by mistake, “In fact, Dad is planning to make a special note of thanks to him in his article in the next issue of the Quibbler.”
“He’s completely mental; Harry, I mean,” said Ron when he had managed to hitch up his drooping jaw. The expression on Ginny and Neville’s faces seemed to indicate that they too felt that Harry needed to visit a good mental specialist, and right speedily.
But, there was no trace of confusion on Hermione’s face; in fact she was smiling. “Oh, he’s brilliant,” she observed, with something approaching awe in her voice.
“Brilliant?” Ron echoed, feeling that brilliant was scarcely the adjective he would use to describe Harry’s behaviour, “He’s crazy; what was the point of sending Neville’s grandmother on a trip to her relatives and Luna’s father to Romania?”
“To get Neville and Luna at the Burrow of course,” Hermione stated, “Since that day at the Department of Mysteries in fifth year, all the Death Eaters know that Neville and Luna are good friends of ours, and they are pretty capable when it comes to fighting, which therefore makes them targets as well.”
“Thank you, Hermione,” said Luna. Hermione had been openly disdainful of Luna, especially in their fifth year and now to hear her say that Luna was a good friend of theirs and praising her fighting skills was quite a vote of confidence, and Luna was touched.
With a brief nod and a smile in Luna’s direction, Hermione went on. “So my guess is, Harry got both of them over to the Burrow for two reasons. One, to keep them safe at HQ till they had to return to Hogwarts, and two, to be able to hold their own in case of an attack,” she finished, and but for the fact that the rest of them were still digesting her explanation, there might have been applause.
Luna was the first to break the silence. “It makes perfect sense,” she mused, “well thought out Hermione.” Ron and Neville were still trying to work all this out, but Ginny was staring at Hermione with a strange look on her face, which began to make the older girl feel slightly uncomfortable.
“What’s up, Ginny?” Hermione asked frowning, because she was being reminded of Ginny’s expression when she had found out that Hermione had known of Harry’s plan of leaving.
“How do you do that?” Ginny asked slowly.
“Do what?”
“Read his mind,” Ginny clarified, “It’s like you know how Harry’s thinks.”
Hermione let out a tinkling laugh. “That’s ridiculous, Ginny, I was just guessing. I mean, it’s what I would do if I were Harry.”
“Well if that was a guess, then I’m the Queen of England,” stated Luna, “and speaking of the Queen, make sure you read the next issue of the Quibbler for an article on her.” And she walked back to the Ravenclaw table leaving behind her an uncomfortable silence that had nothing to do with the upcoming exposé on the Queen.
Hermione returned to her plate of food, determinedly avoiding the eyes that were fixed on her. Ginny and Ron looked faintly suspicious while Neville was staring at her interestedly, as one does when one meets a mind reader for the first time. Hermione was just wondering if she should try to talk Quidditch to ease the strain, when there was sharp gasp from the other end of the Gryffindor table. Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville all looked up together to see what had caused this sudden outburst. And then all their jaws dropped simultaneously and four voices chorused out together, “HEDWIG”.
And sure enough, Harry’s snowy-white owl was swooping down towards the foursome, but strangely she had a letter clenched in her beak rather than tied to her leg. Hedwig neatly dropped the letter right in front of Hermione and flew away.
“Wait Hedwig,” Hermione cried out desperately, “I want to send a reply.”
But the owl didn’t wait; clearly acting under Harry’s instructions, she flew up and out the window into the clear blue September sky.
All four of them now leaned over to look at the letter that Hedwig had dropped. Surprisingly, Harry had written a short note on the envelope, which they all read together.
Dear all,
I’m fine so far. How are you all doing? I don’t think I’ll be able to write very frequently after this. I can’t risk sending Hedwig as she’s too easily recognizable and I can’t find any other owls to use. I’ll try to be in touch. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be ok.
Love,
Harry.
P.S. Hermione, the contents of this envelope are for your eyes only. Make sure you are alone when you read it and destroy it immediately after.
There was much eyebrow raising and forehead-wrinkling at the postscript. Hermione, sensing that the timing couldn’t have been worse, picked up the envelope with shaking fingers and held it uncertainly.
“Well?” said Ron, expecting Hermione to tear open the letter so that they could all read it together.
“Well what?” she asked evasively without meeting his eyes, though his meaning couldn’t have been clearer. She kept an eye out for all possible exits to assist in a speedy escape.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Ginny prodded. One could understand the Weasley siblings’ testiness. After all, Ron was Harry’s best friend and Ginny had been his girlfriend, and in light of that it was rather galling for them to have Harry writing special letters to Hermione.
“Yes, but not here,” Hermione replied carefully, sidling sideways along the bench, like a diffident crab, “I’m going back to the common room to read it privately.”
“Surely whatever Harry has to say to you can’t be such a big secret that we can’t know about,” said Ginny, her eyes narrowed.
“He certainly seemed to mean it that way,” replied Hermione, getting up quickly. She picked up her books and the envelope and made to leave, not failing to notice that the atmosphere in their group had gone extremely frigid.
Making her way quickly out of the Great Hall and away from the curious stares of the other students, Hermione hurried towards the Gryffindor common room. Taking one of the corners at a high rate of mph, she attempted to walk clean through Minerva McGonagall.
“I’m sorry Professor,” Hermione gasped, clapping her hand to her mouth in surprise and completely forgetting that McGonagall was now the Headmistress, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“No harm done, Ms. Granger,” replied McGonagall, resuming her normal dignified bearing after nearly having been knocked base over apex by Hermione colliding with her at full tilt, “I assume that that was Potter’s owl that has just visited you.”
“Err… yes,” Hermione answered hesitantly, hoping McGonagall wouldn’t ask what the letter had said since it was something that she herself was still ignorant of.
“Well, judging by the haste with which you were trying to get away from the rest of the school I assume you know the contents of the letter,” McGonagall said with a twinkle in her eye.
Hermione stared uncomprehendingly at her headmistress, wondering if said headmistress had had one over the eight. How could she be expected to know the contents of the letter? It was still, quite obviously, sealed, and she, unlike Superman, did not have x-ray vision. And then it hit her. “You mean this is…?” she mumbled, looking at the letter in a new light.
“I would expect so,” confirmed McGonagall, “So I’ll let you carry on to the common room where doubtless you are eager to peruse the contents.” And saying so, she strolled off towards her office.
Hermione hurried past McGonagall and headed back to the Gryffindor common room, which luckily for her, happened to be free of any stragglers. Tearing open the envelope she pulled out the single piece of parchment that it contained and threw the envelope into the flames. The letter had only one sentence.
“The address of Mr. and Mrs. Granger’s residence is thirteen, Edgeware Road.”
Hermione smiled slowly. “Thank you” she whispered to the empty common room and she crumpled up the parchment and deposited it in the fire as well, before collapsing onto the sofa with a sigh of relief.
Just then the portrait hole opened to admit the two Weasleys, and Hermione braced herself. She could see their eyes darting between her curled up on the sofa, and the burning embers of the letter and its envelope. For quite a while no one spoke, and the common room stayed silent except for the merry crackling of the fire.
“So erm… how’s Harry?” Ron finally asked, turning beetroot red, and speaking in a sickeningly sweet voice.
“I know as much as you do about that,” Hermione answered truthfully, an enigmatic smile playing on her lips.
Ginny who had dropped into one of the armchairs by the fire was watching the last bit of the parchment turning into ash. “What do you mean?” she asked plaintively, “You just got a letter from him, which you burnt.”
Hermione laughed, not out of spite, but because she was feeling extremely relieved and her relief had turned to joy, the sort of joy that makes one want to dance and sing. But she quit it quickly when she noticed that the others were not joining in her moment of mirth. “I burnt it because Harry asked me to,” said Hermione, “Oh don’t look like that, Ron, the letter just had my parents’ address,” she snapped, when he snorted derisively. Sure enough, she had found the talking point. Ron abandoned his rhinoceros imitation and, looking more like someone who had been on the receiving end of a sharp buffet to the solar plexus, he gaped at her with his mouth open again.
“What?” Ginny exclaimed, speaking for her brother as well, who for the moment seemed incapable of speech.
“Harry’s the secret keeper for the Fidelius charm on my parents’ house, so he sent me the address,” explained Hermione patiently, secretly enjoying their looks of amazement.
“Oh,” said Ginny, when Hermione had finished, “Oh… ummm… well, that’s good,” she finished.
Ron, who had just taken a seat, shot up as if realizing suddenly that it was red hot, and began to pace the room. He seemed to be struggling for utterance, and his face worked furiously as he thought of what to say. Finally realizing the futility of it all, he grinned sheepishly and said, “That’s great, Hermione. Now you can go home for the holidays.”
Ginny seemed to come to herself and regain her joie de vivre, and she too smiled her brightest smile and echoed her brother’s comments. Hermione couldn’t help feeling that this was definitely the way things needed to be. With the war at hand, and Harry missing, the last thing they needed was to be arguing amongst themselves. As she thought these profound thoughts, she looked over the sprawling grounds of Hogwarts castle and suddenly started in alarm.
“We haven’t been to visit Hagrid yet, have we?” she asked the flame-haired Weasleys in a tone approaching panic.
And so, during their lunch hour, Hermione, Ron and Ginny knocked nervously on the door of the little cabin out on the Hogwarts grounds. There were the usual sounds of movement from inside the cabin accompanied by the frenzied barks of Hagrid’s dog, Fang. The next moment, the door was flung wide open and a large, hairy face stared down at the three of them. Awe-inspiring as Hagrid could be to new students, everyone came to learn quite soon that his size belied a soft heart. At the moment however, the softness seemed to be in short supply, as a frown disfigured his usually jovial countenance.
“Well, ‘sbout time you thought of ol’ Hagrid,” he growled at them.
“We’re sorry, Hagrid,” they chorused together, smiling disarmingly at him.
“It’s been difficult trying to pry Hermione away from a book this year,” Ron grinned, before grimacing when a sharp punch connected with his arm.
“Dontcha tease little Hermione,” Hagrid said, scowling at Ron, “At least you coulda come before.”
“I would’ve,” Ron began defensively, “If I wasn’t so afraid of… AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!”
Fang, who had managed to squeeze past Hagrid and had launched himself joyfully at Ron, knocking him over onto the hard earth, prompted the yell of terror. Placing himself squarely on Ron’s chest, Fang then proceeded to slobber all over his face.
“Gerroff! Hagrid, get him off, get him off!” Ron yelled in disgust, attempting vainly to fight of the dog’s affections.
“Oi! Fang! Stop that, you dumb dog,” Hagrid commanded, trying hard to keep a straight face. The girls had quit trying and were guffawing loudly at Ron’s predicament. Obediently, Fang got off Ron’s chest and strolled over to the girls, who happily patted him on his large head, still giggling. Ron sat up and fished out his handkerchief. Grumbling, he wiped his face thoroughly, attempting to remove all traces of Fang off himself.
“Well, come on in, you all,” Hagrid said, back in good humour, and he stepped aside to let them in. The three of them strolled in and settled in the large chairs that dotted Hagrid’s humble abode. Hagrid pottered over, if a person of his size could be said to ‘potter’, to his furnace and tended to a large kettle, which was steadily steaming.
“You’re lucky I’ve got a pot of tea on. An’ I just finished another batch of rock cakes. Like some?” Hagrid asked, expecting a large order. Unfortunately, opinion on Hagrid’s culinary skills varied widely. Hagrid thought they were great; everyone else thought they were a danger to man and beast.
“How’s Grawp?” Hermione asked quickly, hoping that the change of topic would enable them to escape having to take on a sample of rock cakes, whose only possible could be as training bludgers.
“Oh, he’s grand,” Hagrid replied, pleased that they had asked, “He’s happy now that he’s got a new friend.”
Hermione, Ron and Ginny exchanged looks of horror. Grawp had a new ‘friend’? Did that mean Hagrid had found another giant and brought him or her back to the forest? At the thought of that possibility, their imagination boggled.
“When you say ‘new friend’,” Ginny asked timidly, “Whom are you referring to, Hagrid?
Hagrid lowered his voice conspiratorially, which to the three of them was another bad sign, and said, “Buckbeak, obviously.”
“WHAT?” they all yelled in unison, aghast. This was worse than they could have imagined. Buckbeak the hippogriff, they knew, was a strong creature. But against a sixteen-foot giant with an extremely short temper, his chances of survival were lower than that of a snowman in the Sahara.
“You’re trying to get Buckbeak and Grawp to be friends?” Hermione asked in alarm, while Ron contented himself with staring at Hagrid with ill-concealed astonishment.
“Shhh…” Hagrid hissed loudly at Hermione, “No one knows Buckbeak’s still here. Anyway, I’m sure once they get to know each other, they’ll be great friends.”
Hermione and Ginny sighed and Ron shook his head. They knew that the most likely outcome of the state of affairs was that when Grawp got the chance, he would probably throttle his ‘friend’. Still, there was no use in explaining this to Hagrid. They had realized long ago that once Hagrid had an idea, there could be no talking him out of it.
Conversation flagged for a while after this startling revelation. The kettle came to a boil and Hagrid poured out some tea for all of them into humongous mugs. Ron had regularly confided to Harry that tea at Hagrid’s could sustain them for at least a day and a half. That is, if they ever got through the entire mug. Most of the time, the tea would taste like one of Snape’s potions, causing increasingly exaggerated and amusing reactions. Today was no different, and as Hermione looked out of the window of Hagrid’s cabin, she could see Ron surreptitiously pouring the contents of his mug into Hagrid’s vegetable garden. Ginny, who was extremely fond of animals, was giving Fang a run on the grounds. Left alone in Hagrid’s cabin, Hermione loyally struggled through her mug of what tasted like dishwater.
“How’ve you been, Hermione? You ok?” Hagrid asked as he came up behind Hermione and joined her in looking out of the window.
“Yes. Things have been a little hectic, but I’m managing all right,” Hermione replied, smiling up at him.
“Always knew you’d make Head Girl,” Hagrid said proudly, eyeing Hermione’s badge. Hermione smiled again, but this time it wasn’t quite as wide. She was recalling the day McGonagall had come by and given her the badge.
In the days since they had returned to Hogwarts, Hermione had thrown herself into her studies and her responsibilities as Head Girl, trying not to think about the fact that Voldemort was growing stronger and that Harry was out there all alone. Lots of work meant that she didn’t have to dwell on the decision she had made. And everyone else had been very supportive of her at Hogwarts, which had made it a lot easier to not reach for the paper every day and fear the worst. But fear she did, and she knew that Ron, Ginny and, indeed, almost all of Hogwarts felt the same.
She hadn’t forgotten about Hagrid, after all, he was their one refuge at Hogwarts. But she also knew that Hagrid looked on Harry as a son, and to face him after letting Harry go was what had made Hermione hold back and not visit him yet. And she was quite sure that their conversation now was moving towards Harry.
“Hermione, I ain’t angry with you,” Hagrid said softly, seemingly divining her thoughts, “You did what you felt was the right thing at the time.”
“Would you have done the same?” Hermione asked, hoping for a confirmation that it was indeed the right thing to do.
“I dunno,” Hagrid answered honestly, much to Hermione’s disappointment. “But I do know one thing,” Hagrid continued, “This is what Harry is meant to do, whether from Hogwarts or outside. An’ he’s been brave enough to go out there and face it like a man. That’s what counts.”
“But I feel like such a coward, Hagrid,” Hermione said sadly, “Ron and I were supposed to go with him, to help him through this. I could have talked him into letting us come but I didn’t.”
“You’re not a coward,” Hagrid said forcefully, “None of you are. You’re all Gryffindors and believe me, when the time comes, you’ll all prove your courage.”
Hermione sighed heavily, and looked out across at the forbidden forest. The site of so many adventures, but now it only served to remind her of the ever-growing darkness. The war was coming, and it would be upon them soon. But the outcome of the war, who would win, and who would lose? That was something that could only be hoped for, but not foreseen. As they looked into an unknown future, Hagrid placed a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder, and they both silently prayed for their only hope.
A/N: I’ve actually had this chapter ready for a while but what with one thing and another I haven’t been able to put it up till now. Hope everyone enjoys this installment, and thanks to all who have read and reviewed so far. And thank you to my wonderful beta for your suggestions and assistance and for getting this back to me in a matter of hours, wow, that was amazing. Next chapter up soon, I promise.
Chow for now.
Scarhead Steve.