Chapter 28
A Celebration of Sorts
By the time he’d returned to the castle, it had started to snow. Knowing that the party was probably already starting, Harry raced down the grand staircase in order to make a special request directly to the Hogwarts kitchens. He encountered Professor McGonagall slowly climbing the stairs with an elaborately decorated cake in her arms.
“Let me help you with that, Headmistress,” Harry suggested but she waved him off.
“I’m almost to the portrait hole as it is, Harry, but thank you for offering,” she replied, smiling. “It would probably be better if I passed it through to someone on the inside of the opening, though -- if you don’t mind going on ahead of me.”
“Not at all.”
Harry was about to inquire why she hadn’t just entrusted the cake to one of the house-elves, then remembered the disaster that Dobby had made of his Aunt Petunia’s elaborate pudding. The headmistress was probably wise to deliver it personally, he concluded.
“If you don’t mind me asking, though, how did you know ahead of time that Gryffindor was going to win?” he inquired, looking carefully at the cake for the first time. It was an elaborate confection depicting a lion’s head devouring a badger whose bristly coat was composed of closely packed sugar quills. The lion’s mane had been rendered of toasted meringue.
“Now you know I’m supposed to remain neutral,” declared the headmistress with a wink. “This morning there were actually two separate cakes, one in the shape of lion and the other a badger. Once the match was over, a wave of the wand combined them in the appropriate configuration you see here.”
The Fat Lady was gazing rather intently at the cake by the time they reached her portrait. After brief consideration, the headmistress announced, “Couer de lyon.” The portrait obligingly swung open as McGonagall confessed to Harry, “My French is so rusty!”
Leaving the headmistress with a number of Gryffindors who had volunteered their assistance, Harry continued on his errand. Once in the Entrance Hall, he took the smaller staircase that led down to the lower levels. Tickling the painted pear revealed the hidden door handle and he let himself into the cavernous kitchens situated immediately below the Great Hall.
As usual, the place was a beehive of house-elves scurrying to and fro. He stood there looking around for a moment before the familiar face of Dobby materialized right before him and bowed deeply.
“An honor, Harry Potter, sir, that you would take time out of your busy schedule to visit us here,” the elf beseeched. “How can Dobby assist you?”
“Thank you, Dobby. There was an apple cider punch that was served at Halloween -- would you have the ingredients on hand to make another batch?”
Dobby nodded eagerly. “Would Harry Potter prefer it to be iced or heated?”
“Considering that it has started snowing outside, I think heated would be best.”
“A wise choice. Shall I deliver it to your tower common room?”
“Actually, Dobby, it’s for the Gryffindor victory party that is being held in the main common room. Would you be able to make a cauldron of the stuff?”
“Absolutely.” Dobby had but to snap his fingers before he was surrounded by a number of other elves ready to do his bidding. A few whispered instructions and they were all scurrying off to complete the task. “Is there anything else Dobby can help with today?”
“Well…” Harry hesitated, lowering his voice to a near whisper, “I was just wondering how Kreacher’s been getting along since he came to work here?”
Dobby looked around furtively to make sure that no one was listening and then drew Harry aside to the large hearth were the elves liked to relax. The area was empty at this time of day. Dobby motioned for Harry to bend down so that he could whisper directly into his ear.
“Kreacher had a difficult time adjusting at first. He was much prouder than poor Winky and was at a loss to accept his change of circumstances. But the great wizard Dumbledore personally saw to it that Kreacher was assigned to new duties that befitted his training and he was made in charge of the private teachers’ quarters. Now that the running of Hogwarts has been turned over to the wisest of witches, she has personally assigned him to watch over the needs of Professors Trelawney, Sinistra and Hooch exclusively. He has his own quarters now in another area of the castle.”
So McGonagall was also suspicious of Trelawney, he was gratified to learn. Kreacher’s new assignment practically shouted that. Harry smiled in gratitude and thanked Dobby profusely.
“If you don’t mind me saying, sir,” Dobby whispered, “You can have a flagon of the plain cider delivered to your rooms each morning if you like. It can be deposited in Mr. Ron’s cold cabinet for you.”
“That would be ideal, Dobby,” Harry returned with an even wider smile. “Thank you so much for the suggestion.”
Harry returned to the main Gryffindor common room to find that the party was already in full swing, the room reaching capacity as more and more well-wishers kept pouring through the portrait hole. True, each guest had to be accompanied by their Gryffindor host in order for the Fat Lady to admit them, but she had always been prone to shameless flattery if you needed to shepherd a small group past.
Harry found that a steaming cauldron of spiced cider had been deposited on a side table near a small window and went over to serve himself. Only weak afternoon light was filtering though the window as the snow continued to fall steadily outside. A roaring fire had been lit in the huge grate, lending the entire room a ruddy glow.
He wandered over to the main cluster of people that were congregating near the food table, wisely avoiding the boisterous group that included the Gryffindor team with Ginny at its epicenter. Tonks was telling some funny story or other, accompanied by exaggerated arm movements that had everyone in stitches. Largely unnoticed by the others, Harry had an unimpeded view of her and was surprised to see that she was dressed in a broad interpretation of Gryffindor attire. Instead of the customary dark skirt, she had on a loud kilt of red and gold tartan, but the dark jumper trimmed in scarlet, the white button down shirt (albeit with one end fashionably untucked) and the striped tie were pure Gryffindor -- even if the latter had been knotted in an elaborate noose. Of course, that must have been the wager!
Lupin couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from her for very long, but managed to greet Harry nonetheless when he walked up behind him.
“You know she can change those colors at will if she so decides,” Harry reminded him.
“Not without incurring a serious penalty,” Lupin replied archly. “I already thought of that.”
“What would she have done to you if Hufflepuff had won?” asked Hermione, joining in on the conversation.
“I don’t even want to think about it,” admitted Lupin, laughing.
“Well, there’s always that loud little skirt she wore when she was passing herself off as a Hufflepuff,” Ron offered with a grin.
“Don’t try to be helpful, Ron, it really doesn’t suit you,” Lupin returned with a wince. “Besides, I could never wear that skirt--”
“”I’m sure we could get Ginny to let it out a bit for you, Professor,” quipped Harry.
“No, seriously,” Lupin confessed wryly, “I haven’t got the legs for it!”
Once the laughter died down -- it was obvious that a lot of other people had been listening in on their conversation -- Tonks chimed in, “Don’t let them tease you so, Remus. I gave that skirt away to Molly; it was too small for me anyway. She’s wearing it in one of the Halloween photos that are posted in the Entrance Hall.”
Harry remembered now; only Molly had been wearing it in a very goth-like manner, complete with inked in barbed wire tattoos and zombie-like makeup. It had seemed to him at the time that she looked as if she had joined the ranks of the apprentice Death Eaters and couldn’t understand how she had gotten costume approval. On second thought, lots of clubs in big cities looked like they catered to dementors these days, so apparently it was a big fad among Muggles.
Harry encountered the headmistress as she was helping herself to another mug of the cider.
“I understand I have you to thank for the cider, Harry,” she commented with a smile.
“Actually, the original idea came from Professor Slughorn’s refreshment committee,” Harry modestly admitted. “They first served it on Halloween. All I did was go down to the kitchens and order another batch.”
“Well, it certainly hits the spot on a snowy evening, doesn’t it?” she replied.
“Actually, Professor, if you happen by the Three Broomsticks, Madam Rosmerta makes an even tastier rendition that incorporates honey mead,” suggested Harry.
“Sounds delightful!” the headmistress agreed. “I must get her recipe.”
Seeing that Robert was among the guests that had been invited, Harry was reminded to offer up a compliment to his Quidditch commentating skills.
“That’s very generous of you, Harry. I’ve been rather pleased with him myself. I almost despaired for finding a worthy successor to Lee Jordan,” McGonagall confessed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must make my farewells to Remus and Tonks before I leave.”
Harry could not hear the headmistress’ comment, but Tonks immediately laughed and lifted up the edge of her jumper to show that the waist of her plaid skirt was safety-pinned. Must have been supplied by McGonagall’s collection of tartans for every occasion, he concluded.
Turning back towards the window, he watched the silent snowflakes continue to fall steadily. The ground was already covered in a white blanket that seemed to stretch past the bare trees into the horizon. It was a scene of serenity and beauty, but one that Harry always associated with desolation as the fruits of the earth became dormant once more.
Harry felt a hand on his arm and turned to find that Hermione had come to stand by his side at the window. Gazing on the transformed landscape below, she leaned companionably on his shoulder and remarked, “Tomorrow will mark the first snowball fights of the season.”
Harry nodded his head, knowing that the white coverlet would be churned full of footprints and sled tracks by noon. “Christmas holidays at the Burrow can’t be far behind, can they?” he added with a grin. “You will be coming along, won’t you?”
“Naturally,” Hermione answered. “My parents have taken a real liking to going skiing over Christmas “ seems they get a big break on the cost of lift tickets that week. And, well, you know skiing is just not my cup of tea.”
“So you’ve said.”
“I know you seem rather preoccupied tonight, but have you taken a moment to congratulate Ginny on her victory today?” Hermione quickly cut off the retort that she knew was brewing by whispering, “She keeps glancing over at you when she thinks you’re not looking in her direction.”
Harry took a good look at the room around him and realized that it must be later than he thought. His attention had been so distracted by the enthusiastic group gathered around Lupin and Tonks that he had failed to notice that a large part of the crowd encircling the Quidditch team had already drifted off. There were still a lot of people in the room, but they had broken off into smaller, more intimate groups. It wouldn’t be too long before the shadowy corners of the room would begin to be staked out by couples, and those seeking more privacy, would be starting their exodus through the portrait hole.
“Thanks for the suggestion, Hermione.” He made himself smile graciously. “I’m thinking about wandering down for some supper myself, so I’ll be sure to catch her on my way out.”
Returning his mug and empty cake plate to the refreshment table, Harry steeled himself inwardly as he casually stopped by the small knot of team members that included Ginny. She noticed him immediately and smiled warmly in his direction.
“That was a rather spectacular catch today,” he offered, smiling in return.
“Thanks, Harry. Can’t say that all those goals by the Hufflepuff team didn’t have me worried for a while there.”
“I knew you’d pull if off in the end,” Harry affirmed, letting her hear the sincerity in his voice. Knowing that to linger too much longer would mean that they would soon run out of Quidditch conversation and wander onto dangerous ground, he turned to walk away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really need a bit of supper to counteract the sugar I’ve been consuming all afternoon.”
Harry could feel everyone’s eyes on him. He couldn’t shake the sensation that they were all remembering the exuberant embrace that he and Ginny had shared at the last Gryffindor victory party, right here in this very room. After all, he could hardly think of anything else himself. He kept his head down as he walked out the portrait hole and started to climb up to his tower room. Suddenly, the last thing he felt like doing was eating.
He was almost halfway there when he realized that Ginny had followed him out onto the stairs. Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be, Ginny, he intoned inwardly. He took a deep breath and turned to face her, trying desperately to keep his face as neutral as possible.
“Isn’t the Great Hall in the other direction?” she began tentatively.
“I needed to drop something off in my room,” he lied.
“Will you come back after supper then? The party’s bound to pick up as others do the same,” she offered, her eyes filled with longing.
Harry shook his head sadly and turned to continue up the stairs.
“Harry, please…”
The entreaty in her voice was so strong that he couldn’t just walk way. Turning back to her, he replied as gently as possible, “Ginny, you know that I will always be here for you if you need me. But right now, I can’t be what you want me to be.”
He didn’t dare to say anymore for fear that his voice would break. Feeling as if he was walking from warm sunshine into utter darkness, he turned his back on her and proceeded through the stone sconce where she could not follow. It took all of his willpower to keep from looking back.
Harry sagged in relief once he heard the stone scone close behind him and then felt his brain yelling, NOOOOOOOO, from inside his skull. He kicked the nearest footstool on the way to his bedroom and the sharp pain was oddly satisfying. Seeing that the rooms were completely deserted, he took the opportunity to slam his bedroom door shut with all the force he could muster. The relief he sought was eluding him. Looking around his room critically, he searched for some object that he could smash against the stone wall of the tower.
His eyes caught the glint of the Omnioculars that he’d left on his dresser before going down to the party. He knew that he would regret smashing those so he settled for snatching them angrily and plopping down to sit on the end of his bed. He recalled that Lupin had mentioned saving some images for him in the replay mode. Perhaps reviewing those would serve as a needed distraction.
Harry twiddled with the controls, trying to remember exactly how they worked, his pent up frustration making him impatient and clumsy. Finally, he was able to coax a blurry image and then adjusted the focus so that it came in better. Figures moving too quickly to be adequately recorded zipped by and then he saw a flash of red and gold that soon resolved itself into Ginny astride her racing broom, intent on the chase and then suddenly pulling up short with the tiny Snitch in her hand. The clip followed her measured descent to the center of the grassy pitch, staying with her as she simply let her broom clatter to the ground. She held her prize aloft, turning to all sides of the stands in turn.
Harry watched the same clip a dozen or more times, finding it oddly soothing that he had a little bit of Ginny that he could truly call his own. Eventually he moved on to the next clip, knowing he would return to the first one again later.
This image was further away and it took a fair amount of fiddling with the focus before he could see that what looked like a cluster of tall chimneys were actually the tallest spires of Hogwarts castle. Abruptly, the image jumped closer as Lupin adjusted the magnification on his end. This caused Harry to have to refocus all over again, returning to the clip’s beginning a number of times to get it right. He was seeing Professor Trelawney atop her tower, scarves blowing in the wind as before. Only this time, he was much closer and could see that she was holding her right hand up to her face and scanning the area in a tight semi-circle. When she turned in profile, Harry suddenly realized that she, too, had some sort of Omniocular device. Without warning, she bent over to pick up something next to her and then the image pitched as if Lupin’s hand had been bumped. When Lupin refocused on the same tower, Trelawney was no longer standing there. Nothing else was recorded.
Strangely muffled through his bedroom door, Harry heard the sound of the sconce opening as if from a distance. Quickly, he hid the Omnioculars in the same drawer where he kept Ginny’s Halloween photo, buried beneath neatly folded jumpers that Mrs. Weasley had knitted for him but he had since outgrown.
Peeking out into the common room, he saw that it was Lupin.
“Ah, Harry, I thought I might find you here after I saw you leave the party,” he began. The words ‘and Ginny returned alone’ seemed to float, unacknowledged, in the air between them.
Lupin’s hesitancy prompted Harry to say, “There’s no one else here right now, Professor. You can speak freely.”
Lupin visibly relaxed and then volunteered, “I have the Patronus list that you requested.” He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a single yellow post-it note that he pressed onto the surface of the nearest table. It seemed to be covered in illegible squiggles. “Just adhere it to a clean parchment sheet and the data will transfer automatically. Hermione knows the spell in case it messes up and you have to do it over again.”
“Thanks, Professor, I didn’t expect results so soon.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I was only able to get the staff data from the clipboard that Minerva handed me. I will have to get the student data directly from Filch’s office.”
“Do you need to borrow my Map so you can break in when the coast is clear?” Harry inquired with an impish half-smile.
“I thought I might just knock on his door and ask for it politely,” Lupin returned with a laugh, “but thanks for the offer.”
“You think Filch will just hand it to you?” Harry was incredulous.
“Oh, he won’t like it, but he would be hard-pressed to refuse a direct request from one of the teachers.”
“Won’t he turn around and report you to the headmistress?” Harry suddenly remembered Filch’s tactics.
“Absolutely,” Lupin replied airily, “but then all I have to say is that I was double-checking a questionable Patronus that I had seen one of the students produce.”
“Which student?” Harry couldn’t stop himself from asking.
“I’m not sure yet,” he answered with a wink, “but I will pick one from the list.”
Harry was amazed at Lupin’s effortless duplicity. He turned towards the tabletop where the note was affixed only to find that, in that half-second, Lupin’s body was blocking it.
“Please tell me why you need the information.” Harry noted that Lupin was polite enough to phrase it as a request.
“In the simplest terms, I want to know who I’m face to face with if it ever comes down to that,” Harry offered honestly.
“Fair enough,” Lupin conceded, easing away from the table. “You’ll be particularly pleased that I added a section that identifies the Patronuses of all current Order members as well.”
“Including Snape?”
“Double-checked that one with Tonks especially. Did you by any chance get a look at those clips I saved you?” Lupin’s tone was deliberately casual.
“You mean where our Lady of Shallot is looking right back at you? At what point during the match did you record that?”
“About the time you walked away to alert Professor Flitwick.”
“Then I would say, Professor, that she would have had time to signal an accomplice on the ground.”
“That’s pretty much the same conclusion I reached,” Lupin admitted. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I really do need to get back to Tonks. The students were just starting to return from supper when I left, so I expect the place will be hopping by now. Are you sure I can’t convince you to rejoin the festivities?”
“No thanks, Professor, it’s been a really long day. You go on ahead and enjoy yourself.”
“How could I not?” Lupin’s enthusiasm was practically contagious. “I have the cutest date in the entire room!”
“Professor,” Harry rejoined archly, “need I remind you that she is dressed like a schoolgirl?”
“Yes, I know, I know, and I have all sorts of inner turmoil about that “ but I think I’ll be all right. As long as she doesn’t call me ‘professor’, that is!”
Harry laughed in spite of himself as Lupin took his leave.
Harry was wondering if perhaps he should try to get some supper after all when the sconce opened again to admit Ron and Hermione. They had obviously just been laughing and were practically holding on to one another to keep from falling.
“Oh, hi, Harry,” Hermione offered immediately. “We were wondering where you had gone to.”
“Yeah,” echoed Ron. “Room’s fit to burst downstairs. Thought we might go for a walk in the fresh snow.”
“You know how beautiful it can be when it’s new,” Hermione rhapsodized. “It twinkles like miniature diamonds in the moonlight.”
“Don’t wait around too long,” Harry commented. “That effect only lasts until gravity takes over “ a few hours at most.”
They were just getting their jackets and scarves when the sconce opened again to admit Neville.
Seeing Ron’s and Hermione’s intent, he cautioned, “I don’t think it’s a good time for a moonlit walk. Didn’t Harry tell you? There’s reason to believe that Severus Snape was on the school grounds during today’s Quidditch match.”
All heads whipped in Harry’s direction and three pairs of eyes implored him for additional facts. “I sighted him on the Marauder’s Map this morning before I went down to the pitch. Lupin passed the word through the proper channels so that the existence of the Map would be protected.”
“I’ll get the details from you later, Harry,” Neville interjected. “Daphne’s waiting for me downstairs; she offered to keep me company while I did rounds tonight.”
Hermione firmly closed the door to the coat closet and joined the other two by the fireplace. “There will be more fresh snow,” she affirmed. “I really don’t think I’m ready to face Snape in a duel yet.”
“It’s not like you would’ve been alone,” Ron reminded her.
“Neither was Harry.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, his black attire would be easier to spot against a white background,” returned Ron.
“Excuse me, guys,” Harry interrupted, “but Snape wasn’t wearing black when I ran into him before “ and I suspect he’s long gone from the area by now.”
“Any ideas why he was hanging about?” inquired Ron.
“Not really,” Harry admitted, “although I can’t shake the feeling that he’s still tying to get his hands on the Prince’s book.”
“Well, it does look like it was his to begin with,” Ron stated.
“Did you share your theory with Professor Lupin?” Hermione suggested.
“Lupin doesn’t know about the book,” Harry conceded, “at least not the significant parts of the story. I remember asking him last Christmas Eve if he’d known anyone who used the nickname and he suggested I check the date that the book was published as a clue to its original owner.”
“But Harry, Lupin and Snape were classmates. Didn’t you tell me that they were in the same Potions class back then? Slytherin and Gryffindor together, just like now,” Hermione reminded him.
“Doesn’t mean he was close to the greasy-haired git, though,” Ron observed.
“No, it doesn’t,” Harry concurred. “Yet I get the feeling sometimes that he knows a lot more about Snape than he’s willing to admit.”
“You know how tight-lipped Lupin can be,” Hermione noted. “I don’t expect he’ll tell you anything unless he’s good and ready.”
“He did bring me a present this evening, though,” Harry added with a smile, waving the little yellow note. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Harry retrieved a spare sheet of parchment from his desk drawer and then carefully placed the post-it note in the exact center, smoothing the adhesive carefully with his thumb. He had barely touched the edge with his wand when the ink swirls seemed to writhe and spread like vines all over the parchment. In a matter of seconds, the information had transferred and he disposed of the yellow note with a quick incendio from his wand tip. The bottom half of the list had been added in Lupin’s own handwriting.
He rejoined Ron and Hermione by the fireplace where Ron was passing bottles of butterbeer all around. Taking a long swallow, Harry held the parchment up and remarked, “You’ll never guess what this is… Remember the night that we stayed up late thinking of likely Patronuses for everyone we knew? I have the real thing!”
“Lupin gave you that? Blimey!” Ron cried in awe. “I thought we were going to have to steal that from Filch’s office ourselves!”
“Please don’t tell me that’s how Lupin got it,” Hermione added with a sharp laugh. “I’d really rather not know.”
“Any idea what we did with the parchment where we wrote down all our guesses?” asked Ron excitedly. “I recall we had a few good wagers going.”
“No idea,” Harry admitted. “How about you, Hermione?”
“Haven’t a clue. I guess we’ll just have to work from memory then. Go for it, Harry!”
“Well, we already know that Dumbledore’s was a phoenix, Tonks’ is a large wolf and Lupin’s is a giraffe,” Harry began.
“Lupin’s is a giraffe? Really?” Hermione giggled. “Sorry, Harry, I forgot you witnessed that under rather stressful conditions.”
Harry shrugged to show that it was all right, then continued, “Next is Flitwick. Did anyone have him down as a penguin? McGonagall?”
“I think I had her down as some kind of panther,” confessed Ron, pantomiming the sleek movements of a large cat.
“The panther is actually Kingsley Shacklebolt. McGonagall is a striped cat, rather like her Animagus form “ that’s a rather unusual coincidence.”
“What about Trelawney?” Ron urged excitedly.
“I know I had her down as an owl,” Hermione declared.
“Maybe a near-sighted owl,” returned Ron. “How about a dingbat?”
“That’s not really an animal,” Harry protested.
“I’m not sure if it has to be,” supplied Hermione. “In rare cases, Patronuses can be moving objects as well, or so I read.” Turning to Ron, she specified, “So if we’re going to count that as a valid guess, you’ll have to tell me what a dingbat looks like “ it does have to be corporeal.”
“You mean someone’s Patronus could be one of those biting teacups that Zonko’s used to sell?” Ron’s tone was wistful.
“Or a portable hangman,” suggested Hermione. “Too bad we don’t have Lucius Malfoy on the list.”
“You have it all wrong,” Ron asserted with fervor. “Lucius Malfoy would be some sort of poisonous viper. Bellatrix Lestrange gets the hangman.”
“Forget Death Eaters, they’re not on the list,” Harry cut in. “Besides, why would you need a Patronus when you can call on a dementor at will? Getting back to the list at hand, would be believe Trelawney is an ostrich?”
Hermione laughed unabashedly. “What about Peter Pettigrew?” she gasped with merriment. “I think he’d make a great Pygmy Puff!”
Ron opined differently. “Termite, more like it.”
“Scorpion,” announced Harry. “Wish we had some of our old teachers on this list. I know we had guesses down for Quirrell, Grubbly-Plank and Lockhart.”
“Lockhart’s a peacock,” Hermione attested. “I know I read that in one of his books.”
“Then it’s probably a lie!” Harry shot back with a chuckle.
“What about Mad-Eye Moody?” Ron asked, going over his mental checklist of Defense Against the Dark Arts instructors.
“Says here that he’s a whale,” Harry read, “and Slughorn’s a rhinoceros.”
“Is Umbridge on there? She’s a bull frog if ever I saw one!” Ron was holding his side by now.
“Sorry. What about your father, Arthur?” Harry asked Ron directly.
“Blimey, I don’t know,” Ron admitted sheepishly.
“Surely it couldn’t be a weasel?” Hermione offered with a giggle.
“Right on the money!” Harry pronounced. “Time for the tie breaker then: Severus Snape?”
“Bat!” yelled Hermione, waving her hand in the air just like she used to do in the classroom.
“Wait, I had bat for him, too.” Ron frowned. “We can’t both pick the same one, can we?”
“I dunno, Ron, I think I wrote bat on that one, also. It was the only one that seemed self-evident to me at the time,” Harry recalled. Then turning the parchment around, he place it on the small table before them. At the bottom of the sheet, Lupin had written:
After much merriment, they finished going down the list of the other names, persons who Harry did not remember having previously considered.
“What a kestrel?” inquired Ron, pointing to Professor Hooch’s name.
“I think it’s a small bird,” Harry replied.
“Actually, it’s a raptor, a bird of prey,” Hermione expounded. “Noble women on horseback used to hunt with them in medieval times. Somehow that romantic image seems to suit Professor Hooch.”
“You think so?” Ron was taken aback. “She always comes across so austere and business-like.”
“That’s only on the outside,” asserted Hermione. “Once you get to know her a bit, you realize that she’s a romantic at heart.”
“What does it say about Mr. Stevens?” Ron implored as he pointedly avoided looking at the list. “Is it too late to vote for gorilla?”
Harry had to scan the list twice before he found the notation, in a smaller hand as if it had been added at the last minute. “That’s interesting,” he noted. “He’s an eagle. Isn’t that a type of raptor, also?”
Seeing that Neville still wasn’t back from his rounds, they decided to give it up for the night. Harry locked the Patronus list in the same drawer as his spare wand before changing into his pajamas. He could still hear faint music and snatches of laughter from the common room below, but it was muffled enough that it just provided a gentle backdrop.