The first thing Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I saw after entering the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning was Draco Malfoy, who was entertaining a large group of Slytherins, Adam and Frisk, included, with a very funny story. Oh, I'm going to kick their asses. Since when were they all buddy buddy with Malfoy? As we passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter.

I'm definitely going to kick their asses. At least Emma isn't over there to to join in. Then again she'd probably do my job for me and shame them into stopping with that glare of hers.

"Ignore him," said Hermione. "Just ignore him, it's not worth it. . . ."

Malfoy's not the problem. Frisk and Adam are. I expected this crap from Malfoy. Not the twins. 

"Hey, Potter!" shrieked Pansy Parkison,  a Slytherin girl with a face like a pug. "Potter! The dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooo!"

I made sure to sit between Harry and George at the Gryffindor table. No point in making myself a target for people who know Dad.

"New third-year course schedules," said George, passing them over. "What's up with you, Harry?"

"Malfoy," said Ron, sitting down on George's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table like me. We were just glaring at different Slytherins.

George looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again.

"That little git," he said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"

"Nearly wet himself," said Fred.

"I wasn't too happy myself," continued George. "They're horrible things, those dementors. . . ."

"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" Fred commented.

"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" Harry whispers to George and Fred.

"Forget it, Harry," George says bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking. . . .They suck the happiness out of a place, dementors. Most prisoners go mad in there."

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," said Fred, changing the subject at long last. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"

That brought a smile to my face. Malfoy and Harry are both Seekers for their House team. Every game where Harry and Malfoy go up against each other, Malfoy always comes off worse. I turned my back on the Slytherins and helped myself to sausages and toast.

Hermione was examining the new schedule, surprising nobody.

"Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today." she said happily.

"Only you would be happy about new classes." I say, rolling my eyes.

"Hermione," said Ron, frowning as he looked her her shoulder at her schedule. "Look-they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough time."

"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

"Hermione, do you have a death wish? You're not going to survive the year with that much stress." I advise her.

"I'll be perfectly fine, Clara."

"But look," said Ron, laughing as he finally cut back into the conversation again. "see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And"-Ron leaned closer to the schedule, disbelieving-"look-underneath that, Arithmancy, nine o'clock. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"

"Don't be silly," said Hermione shortly. "Of course I won't be in three classes at once."

"Well then-"

"Pass the marmalade," said Hermione. Fine, so she's not going to tell us. Whatever then. Figure it out the sneaky way.

"But-"

"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my schedule's a bit full?" Hermione snapped. "I told you I fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

HOW?

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absentmindedly swinging a dead polecat from one hand. Why would he bring that to the Great Hall with him?

"All righ'? he said eagerly, pausing on the way to the staff table. "Yer in my firs' ever lesson! Right after lunch! Bin up since five, gettin' everythin' ready. . . .Hope it's okay. . . .Me, a teacher. . .honestly. . . ."

We grinned broadly before going off to the staff table, still swinging the unnecessary polecat.

"Wonder what he's been getting ready?" Ron asked in a worried voice.

"It can't be that bad." I say, knowing full well something awful could happen.

The hall was starting to empty as people headed off toward their first lesson. Ron checked his course schedule. 

"We'd better go, look, Divination's at the top of North Tower. It'll take us ten minutes to get there. . . ."

We finished our breakfasts as quickly as possible, said good-bye to Fred and George, and walked back through the hall. As we passed the Slytherin table, Malfoy did yet another impression of a fainting fit. Adam waved at me and Frisk smiled, but I didn't even acknowledge they existed. . .and it hurt. They're some of my closest friends, really the only ones outside my family and Ron and Hermione. I've told them stuff I'm too scared to tell Harry. Yet I always will pick family. I took a glance at them as I left. Damn, they look as hurt I feel.

I hate drama. Why can't things be simple?

Immediately my phone buzzed in my jeans pocket. Adam. I'd bet my life.

The journey through the castle to  North Tower was a long one. Two years at Hogwarts isn't enough time to explore every inch of the castle. Even during my late night travels had never brought me to the North Tower.

"There's-got-to-be-a-shortcut," Ron panted as we climbed the seventh long staircase and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall.

"I think it's this way," says Hermione, peering down the empty passage to the right.

"No," I say. "That's south. There's a bit of the lake in that window there." I could spend my whole life here and I'm sure I will never know all the passages in this castle!

Suddenly the painting yelled, "Ah!" upon seeing Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I. It was a fat, short knight in a suit of armor. He appeared to have just fallen off a fat, dapple-gray pony. The knight says, "What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance?" Draw, you knaves, you dogs!"

I've never heard so many olden insults in one sentence. The four of us watched in incredulity as the knight tugged his sword out of his scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hoping up and down. He was so tiny it was funny. The sword was too long for him; one of his wild swings knocked him off balance, and he landed face down in the grass.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, moving closer to the picture.

"Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rouge!"

Again with the old-timey insults.

The knight seized his sword again and used it to push himself back up, but the blade sank deeply into the grass and, though he pulled as hard as he could on it, he couldn't pull it back out again. Finally, he gave up, plopped in the grass and pushed up his visor to wipe the sweat off his face.

"Listen," I say, taking advantage of the fact he'd shut up so I can speak, "my friends and I  are looking for the North Tower. If you know the way speak up. Now."

"A quest!" the knight's rage seemed to vanish completely. He clanked to his feet and shouted, "Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!"

Once again he tried to tug his sword from the grass, tried and failed to mount the fat, gray pony, gave up, and cried, "On foot then good sirs and gentle ladies! On! On!"

How on earth does this knight think I am a gentle lady? The knight ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of sight.

We hurried after him along the corridor, following the sound of his armor. Occasionally I caught a glimpse of him running through a picture ahead.

"Be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come!" yelled the knight, and we saw him reappear in front of an alarmed group of women in crinolines, whose picture hung on the wall of a narrow spiral staircase.

Breathing loudly, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I climbed the spiraling steps, until at last we heard the murmur of voices above us and I realized the classroom was above us.

"Farewell!" cried the knight, popping his head into a painting of sinister-looking monks. How do they manage that? "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"

"Yeah, we'll call you," Ron muttered as the knight disappeared, "if we ever need someone mental."

I chuckled.

We climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already waiting. There were no doors off the landing, but there was a trapdoor in the roof. It had a brass plaque on it. 

"Sybill Trelawney, Divination teacher," Harry read. "How're we supposed to get up there?"

In answer to Harry's question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Harry's feet. Everyone got quiet.

"After you, oh great psychic," I say with a grin and a bow. Harry rolled his eyes, smiled, then climbed the ladder first.

I climbed up after Harry. It was a strange classroom. It really didn't look like a classroom, more like a cross between an attic and that part of the library with the bean bag chairs. There were about twenty small, circular tables crammed inside it, all surrounded by armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit by a fiery, crimson light; all the window curtains were closed, and ever single lamp was draped with dark red scarves. It was boiling in here, and the fire burning under the mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a copper kettle.

The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge collection of tea sets.

Ron came up by Harry's shoulder as the class assembled around us, all talking in whispers.

"Where is she?" Ron asked.

A woman's soft, mystical sounding voice came from the shadows.

"Welcome," it said. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."

She looks like a glittering bug. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight,  and you could see she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes far past their natural size, and she had a gauzy spangled shawl. She had too many chains and beads hanging around her neck to count, and she had bangles and rings on her arms and hands.

"Sit, my children, sit," she said, and we all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I sat ourselves around the same round table.

"Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney, who had seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

No one said anything to this statement. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you on the outset that if you do not have the sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field. . . ."

Just my luck to pick one of the hardest classes. Harry, Ron, and I glanced, grinning, at Hermione, who looked thoroughly surprised at the news that books wouldn't be much help in this subject.

"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate that veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous gleaming eyes moving from nervous face to face. I rolled my eyes. This is stupid. "It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," she said suddenly to Neville, who almost toppled off his pouf. "Is your grandmother well?"

"I think so," said Neville tremulously.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," said Trelawney the firelight glinting on her long emerald earings.

Neville gulped. I rolled my eyes again. She's making shit up! Then she says it with a weird voice to freak people out. Trelawney continued placidly. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, "Beware a red-haired man."

Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her, and edged her chair away from him. It took everything I had to not laugh.

"In the second term," Trelawney went on, "we shall progress to crystal balls-if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number shall leave us forever."

The silence was tense after Trelawney said that, but Trelawney seemed to not notice it.

"I wonder, dear," she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, "if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"

Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Trelawney.

"Thank you my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading-it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October."

That's three days before my birthday.

Lavender trembled.

"Now I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear"-she caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up-"after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue-patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."

To nobody's surprise, Neville no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china. Trelawney swept over to him holding a dustpan and brush and said, "one of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn't mind. . .thank you. . . ."

When Hermione and I had had our teacups filled, went back to the table next to Ron and Harry and drank the tea quickly, burning our tongues in the process. We swished the dregs around like Trelawney told us, then drained and swapped the cups.

"So," I say. "Who first?"

"You read mine first." I could tell Hermione didn't like this subject. Too little certainty and confirmed knowledge for her liking.

"Okay." I mutter. "I see soggy tea leaves."

Hermione smiled.

"Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Trelawney cried through the gloom. 

I remembered Frisk telling me that she makes stuff up in this class. Trelawney clearly seems to do that. Except her predictions are depressing. I'll make a happier one.

"I see a bed. . ." I glanced at Unfogging the Future. "That means you'll experiance a visit-it doesn't say by what, which seems like useful information to me, but I digress- there's what looks like a candle-Unfogging the Future says that is '. . .there are trials, worries, or illness in your path. . .'-sorry, 'Mione-and there's something that looks like a sun. . .hang on. . .that means 'great happiness'. . .so you're going to be paid a visit with illness or worry, but be happy."

"That prediction conflicts itself." Hermione laughs. "Sickness and worry do not make you happy."

I laughed. "I know." then I whisper, "I made it up. Now do mine."

Hermione looked into my teacup for a long moment. Finally, she groans in frustration. "I just don't see anything."

Trelawney came sweeping from out of nowhere. "Allow me to assist you, my dear." Trelawney says taking the cup. "The Chisel. . .losses. . .The Knife. . .broken friendship, fighting, and tears. . . .Lastly, a curtain. . .a symbol of secrets among friends." she says dramatically.

I glance between the three friends sitting near me. She's making this up. It's not true. . .right? 

I do what I always do; crack stupid jokes. I says sarcastically, "Alright, which one of you is planning to pick a fight, and then stab me in the back?"

Everyone laughed. It sounds ridiculous when you put it that way.

"Really!" Trelawney says, exasperated. "I'm trying to help you, my dear. This is not a laughing matter!"

Everyone went quiet. 

"I guess I spend too much time around cynical people." I mutter, too quietly for Trelawney to hear. "Not."

She had a new target; Harry. Sorry, Cousin!

Ron and Harry had been laughing at something Ron said. Trelawney swept down on them like a hawk on prey.

"Let me see that, my dear," she said reprovingly to Ron, snatching Harry's cup from him. Everyone went quiet to spectate.

Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.

"The falcon. . .my dear, you have a deadly enemy."

"But everyone knows that," said Hermione in a loud whisper. Trelawney stared at her. Get your sass on, 'Mione! Trust me; it's fun!

"Well, they do," said Hermione defensively. "Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who."

Hermione never back talks to teachers, so all of this is a pleasant surprise to me. Trelawney chose no to reply. She lowered her huge eyes back down to Harry's cup and continued to turn it.

"The club. . .an attack. Dear, dear, you and your cousin do not have happy cups. . . ."

"I thought that was a bowler hat," said Ron sheepishly.

"The skull. . .danger in your path, my dear. . . ."

Everyone stared, transfixed, at Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed.

There was another tinkle of broken china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, glinting hand over her heart and her eyes closed.

"My dear boy. . .my poor, dear boy. . .no. . .it is kinder not to say. . .no. . .don't ask me. . . ."

Hell no lady. "What is it, Ma'am?" I ask eagerly. Everyone had got to their feet, and gathered around Harry and Ron's table. All of us were trying to get a good look at Harry's cup.

"My dear," Trelawney, the Drama Queen, opened her huge eyes dramatically. "you have the Grim."

The Grim? The old ghost dog story that Mom told me can kill you if you see it? But that's just an old wives' tale! A story mothers have been telling their children forever to keep them from petting big, black dogs, or wandering into churchyards at night.

"The what?" Harry asks, confused.

He's not the only one; Dean Thomas, a Muggle-born, and Lavender Brown shrugged, but nearly everyone with any wizard parents slapped a hand over their mouth in horror. You've got to be kidding me!

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Trelawney, who looked shocked that Harry hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen-the worst omen-of death!"

She's really going to try and scare us all with this? Of course, it is working. Lavender Brown clapped her hands to her mouth too, and Harry looked worried. Everyone was looking at Harry, everyone except Hermione and I. We both had gotten up and moved around the back of Trelawney's chair.

"I don't think it looks like a Grim," Hermione says flatly. Trelawney was surveying Hermione with growing dislike.

"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."

Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from side to side. "It looks like a Grim if you do this," he said, with his eyes squinted, "but it looks like a donkey from here," he said, leaning to the left.

"When you've all finished deciding whether I'm going to die or not!" Harry shouted, surprising all of us. Now nobody looked at him. He's right. He's not a zoo exhibit.

"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," said Trelawney. Thank God! "Yes. . .please pack away your things. . . ."

Silently the class took each teacup back to Trelawney, packed our books, and closed our bags. I didn't meet Harry's eyes. I could feel them staring at the back of my neck. 

"Until we meet again," said Trelawney faintly, "fair fortune be yours. Oh and dear"-she pointed at Neville-"You'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up."

As Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I descended Trelawney's ladder and the winding staircase in silence, I pulled out my phone to read Adam's message.

What the hell did we do? You're ignoring us. I'm sorry.

That didn't help. I sat down next to Harry in the back of McGonagall's Transfiguration class. I lay my head on my arms and closed my eyes. Wake me up when life doesn't suck. This is too complicated. I wasn't listening at all to what Minnie was saying about Anamagi, despite my heritage, and merely glanced as she turned herself into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

"Really, what has got into you all today?" said Minnie, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at us all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."

Everybody looked at Harry, but nobody said anything. Then I sat up.

"Well, you see, Minnie, we just had our first Divination class, and Trelawney had us reading tea leaves, and that-"

"Ah, of course," said Minnie, cutting my rant off, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say anymore, Miss Black. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"

Everyone stared at her.

"Me," Harry says, finally.

"I see," says Minnie, fixing Harry with that beady-eyed stare of hers. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way to greet a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues-"

Minnie broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney-"

She thinks she's making up all of her predictions too. 

Minnie said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in."

Hermione and I laughed. It would be terrifying if someone dead did turn in their homework when they're supposed to be dead. Not everyone seemed convinced by Minnie's words. Ron still looked worried, and Lavender whispered, "But what about Neville's cup?"

When the Transfiguration class had finished, they joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch. 

"Ron, cheer up," Hermione says, pushing a dish of stew toward him. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said."

Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn't start eating.

"Harry," he said, in a low, serious voice. "you haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

"Yeah, I have," said Harry. "Clara tried to adopt one."

"I miss Padfoot." I muttered sadly. Why'd he have to run off?

Ron let his fork fall with a clatter.

"He was just a stray!" I argue, annoyed he was picking on Padfoot. Don't hate on my stray!

Ron looked at me like I was insane.

"Clara, if you and Harry's seen a Grim, that's-that's bad," he said. "My-my Uncle Bilius saw one and -and he died twenty-four hours later!"

"All a coincidence," I say, reaching for a soda. "The Grim is just an old wives tale. Besides we saws Padfoot weeks ago, and we're both still kicking."

"What are you talking about, Clara!" said Ron, who was getting angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"There you are, then!" said Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry and Clara's still with us because they're not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well I'd better kick the bucket then!"

I glance around the table. Is there popcorn? Ron mouthed wordlessly at Hermione, who opened her bag, took out her new Arithmancy book, and propped it open against the juice jug.

"I think Divination seems very woolly," she said, searching for her page. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me."

"There was nothing woolly about the Grim in that cup!" said Ron hotly.

"You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep," said Hermione coolly.

Seriously! Where is the freaking popcorn?

"Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You just don't like being bad at something for a change!"

He had hit a nerve. Hermione slammed her Arithmancy book down on the table so hard that bits of meat and carrot flew everywhere.

"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!"

She snatched up her bag and stalked away.

Ron frowned after her.

"What's she talking about?" he said to Harry. "She hasn't been to an Arithmancy class yet."

*Time Skip* By Fleur's Long Ponytail Smacking Ron in the face.

It was nice to leave the castle after lunch. Yesterday's rain was gone; the sky was clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as we set off for our first-ever Care of Magical Creatures class. 

Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other. Harry and I walked between them in silence as we walked down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was only when I  spotted five familiar  backs that these lessons were with the Slytherins. Malfoy was talking to Crabbe and Goyle, who were chortling. I've got a good guess as to what they're discussing. Frisk and Adam were walking a little ways away from them. Why are they out here?

Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" He called as the class approached. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

The Rhee twins were hiding at the back of the group. Were the ditching? Why?

For a moment I thought Hagrid was going to take us into the forest, which wouldn't bother me. I like it in there. However, Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, we found ourselves outside a kind of paddock. I couldn't see what mind of creature was in there.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it-make sure yeh can see-now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books-"

"How?" said the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. 

"Eh?" asked Hagrid.

"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated. He took out his copy of his The Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Other people took theirs out too; some, like Ron, had theirs belted shut; others had crammed them inside tight bats or clamped them together with binder clips. I was the only one, apparently, who had managed to tame the book.

"Hasn'-hasn' anyone bin able to open their books?" said Hagrid, looking crestfallen.

"I did." I said as the rest of the class shook their heads.

"Would you like to show us?" Hagrid asked.

"Sure. Malfoy, would you give me your book?" I ask. Malfoy, looking disgruntled, gave me the book. I ran a finger down the spine of the book before undoing the belt.  The book was still and allowed me to open it. If only his reflexes were that good when he was on the Quidditch field. 

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneered. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!"

"I-I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Hermione.

"Malfoy!" I shout, throwing his book at his platinum head. "Catch!"

He managed to catch the book. Why doesn't he have these kind of reflexes when he's on the Quidditch pitch? If he did the Slytherins would win against us more. Of course he doesn't shut up, because Malfoy's a jerk.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" said Malfoy. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"

"Shut up, Malfoy-" Frisk growls, causing everyone to look at her and Adam.

"-Before we hurt you where the sun don't shine." Adam says while glaring at him. So much for being chummy with the boy. I smirked to myself, pleased.

"Righ' then," said Hagrid, who seemed to have lost his thread, "So-so yeh've got yer books an'-an'-now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on. . . ." He strode away from us into the forest and out of sight.

"God, this place is going to the dogs," said Malfoy loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him-"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry repeated Frisk's earlier sentiment. 

"Careful, Potter, there's a dementor behind you-"

"Oooooooh!" squealed Lavender, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Trotting toward us were a dozen of some pretty bizarre-looking creatures. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horse, but the front legs, and head of what looked like giant eagtles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were a good half a foot long and very lethal-looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in Hagrid's large hands, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

"Gee up, there!" he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren't they?"

Hagrid's right. Once you get over seeing something that's a mashup of different animals, it was very beautiful.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer-"

That's the last thing I wanted to do. If it weren't Hagrid, I would be in the back of the class like Frisk and Adam. Again, why are they here? But this is Hagrid, so I stepped forward immediately. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped forward cautiously.

"Now firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' Hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid, "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't listening; they were whispering to each other, and I had a feeling they were plotting something nasty.

"Yeh always wait for the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn't bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt.

"Right-who wants ter go first?"

Most of the class backed farther away in answer. Even Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I had misgivings.

The hippogriffs were tossing their fierce heads and flexing their powerful wings; they were wild animals. They didn't like being tethered.

"No one?" said Hagrid, with a pleading look.

Shit! I must be insane.

"I'll do it." I say. Focus on the adrenaline. Focus on how this will be awesome. Who cares if it attacks? Awesome story to tell.

I heard Pansy Parkinson laugh. "Well that's one less Black to worry about!"

I froze. She didn't. Nobody but the Slytherins seemed to understand what she was implying, or they did and were too scared I'd be like the Dad they all fear.

"Well, Pug Face, why don't we make a deal?" I say, feeling reckless and terrified. She can talk shit all she likes about Dad; I can't stop it anyway. However, I will not lay down to an insult to my character. Just because Dad is a mass murderer doesn't mean I am too.

All the people parted so I could see Pansy's ugly mug. Adam came up nearer to me.

"Excuse me?" she asks, shocked and insulted.

"I said lets make a deal. If you're so sure I'm going to get myself killed, why not gain a little something?" I say, hand on my hip. God, I'm an idiot. Well you dug yourself into this hole, might as well keep digging.

"What's the terms?"

"Well, Pug Face, if you're right and I get hurt, I have to drink Veritaserum and allow you to ask anything in front of everyone, but if nothing happens you have to dye your hair red and gold for two weeks, and give me fifty galleons."

"Gross!" Pansy shrieks. "I wear Gryffindor colors, and pay you! No way!"

"Princess, I have a lot more on the line than you do. If I lose I have to tell the entire school a deep dark secret, but you just have to change your hair color for a while, and you have enough cash that fifty galleons is nothing to you." I deadpanned.

She looked rightly shamed. Not a lot, but it was there.

"You're on, Black." she says. I smirk and turn towards the paddock.

Adam grabs me by the wrist before I could jump into the paddock.

"Don't do this, Clara." He pleaded.

He called me Clara. Not Babe, Pretty Grey Eyes, Dean Winchester, or any of the other things he's ever called me before. Just Clara. I'd rather have him call me 'Princess' than 'Clara' right now.

"I have to." I whispered.

"Why? I swear, whatever I did wrong I'm sorry about it. Please just listen to me. You might get hurt, and I don't want that. Please back out."

"If I back out now I'm a coward. Hagrid really needs me to do this."

"You're going to get yourself killed over pride." Adam says eyes wide and pleading. He griped my wrist tighter. "Please back out."

"If I die, I'm not going to be called a cowered. Because that's how most Gryffindors will see it if I back out." I whisper. "I know the truth, however. There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity and I'm walking on the wrong side of that line."

"Please, Clara." He pleaded once more. "You're insane."

"You're hurting me." I muttered. "And damn good thing I'm a Black then."

Adam released my wrist immediately, almost instinctively, but before he could plead with me again, I pushed my hand against the post before jumping over it.

"Good girl, Clara!" roared Hagrid. "Right then-let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

He untied one of the chains, pulled the gray hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. Everyone on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding their breath. I glanced back. Frisk had her face hidden in Adam's chest and Hermione was holding Harry and Ron's hands in a death grip.

Glad to know you all have so much confidence in me. 

"Easy now, Clara," said Hagrid quietly. "Yeh've got eye contract, now try not ter blink. . . .Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much. . . ."

My eyes watered, but I didn't shut them. Buckbeak turned his great, sharp head and was staring at me with one fierce orange eye.

"Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, Clara. . .now, bow. . . ."

I didn't want to expose the back of my neck to the damn thing, but I bowed.

the hippogriff stared at me. It didn't move. Great.

I stepped back as Hagrid said worridly, "Right-back away, now, Clara, easy does it-"

To everyone's surprise, the hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakeable bow. Of course, he had to be a drama queen.

"Well done, Clara!" said Hagrid, ecstatic. "Right-yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

I reached out and patted Buckbeak's beak several times. He seemed to like it.

The class broke into applause, all except Pansy, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were looking deeply disappointed.

"Thanks, Buckbeak." I whispered to him. Then I shouted to Pansy. "Take that, Princess! Red and gold, Baby!"

Harry, Ron, Adam, and Frisk laughed, probably in relief.

"Righ' then, Clara," said Hagrid. "I reckon he migh' let yeh ride him!"

Crap! This is not what I was asking for! Pansy smirks. She's still hoping for death to pay me a visit.

"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," said Hagrid, "an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won't like that. . . ."

C'mon. You're not a coward. Climb up, Idjiot!

I put my foot on the top of Buckbeak's wing and pulled myself onto his back. I was careful to not pull out his feathers. Narcissist bird. What am I supposed to hold onto? All I see is bloody feathers! Frisk's hiding her face in Adam's chest again. Adam was looking at me like I was crazy. He's right. Finally, I loosely gripped Buckbeak's neck. Hopefully I won't fall. 

"Go on, then!" roared Hagrid, slapping Buckbeak's hindquarters. With no warning, twelve-foot wings snapped open on either side of me; and he was soaring upward. This is nothing like a broom! Buckbeak's wings beat uncomfortably on either side of me, catching me under my legs making me think I was about to be bucked off, and I loved every second of it. Damn you adrenaline junkie heart!

I locked my fingers around Buckbeak's feathers, then leaned up near his head. "Give me a long ride, please. A few minutes."

In response, Buckbeak flew over the tops of the trees. He's going to make a lap around the castle and over the lake.

"Thank you, Buckbeak!" I shouted. "Please fly a little slower, you amazing creature! I'd love to savor this!"

Surprisingly, Buckbeak does slow down. He slows down enough for me to lay on his back without fear of falling. I hum to myself the chorus to "Backseat Serenade" by All Time Low.

https://youtu.be/_YeQ9KX7o_g

Backseat Serenade

Dizzy hurricane

Oh god, I'm sick of sleeping alone

You're salty like a summer day

Kiss the sweat away

To your radio

Backseat Serenade

Little hand grenade

Oh god, I'm sick of sleeping alone

You're salty like a summer day

Kiss the pain away

To your radio

All too soon we flew near the paddock. I sat up, held on to Buckbeak's neck, and leaned back as Bucbeak's neck lowered, feeling like I was going to slip over the beak, then felt a heavy thud as the four ill-assorted feet hit the ground. I slid off Buckbeak before patting his neck.

"That was awesome!" I cheered.

"Good work, Clara!" roared Hagrid as everyone except Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy cheered. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

Emboldened by my success, the rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock. Hagrid untied the hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously all over the paddock. Neville ran repeatedly backwards from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees. Ron, Hermione, and Harry practiced on the chestnut, while Frisk, Adam, an I sat on the fence watching them.

"So." Adam says. "Your adrenaline heart happy now?"

"Extremely." I grin. "Check out the Slytherin Prince and his lackeys."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were trying to allow Buckbeak to let them near. Goyle was failing and had to keep running away.

Adam and Frisk laughed. "Do you mind telling me why the hell you're so angry at us?" Adam asks. "I wasn't lying when I said I was sorry for whatever it is I did."

"I didn't like it when you and Frisk chose Malfoy."

"What do you mean chose Malfoy? We both hate that little brat." Adam says.

"But earlier you and the rest of the Slytherins were laughing at Malfoy's stupid joke about Harry." I say, confused.

"Because it was hilarious!" Frisk laughed.

"He swooned like a damsel in distress. I dare you not to laugh at that!"

The three of us laughed together.

"Okay, you're forgiven and I'm a drama queen, bitch."

"You're not wrong about being a bitch," Adam says, putting his arm around my shoulders. "but I'd rather have a bitchy you than not at all."

"I have another question for you two." I say. "Why are you here and not in class?"

"We ditched Defense Against the Dark Arts-" Frisk starts.

"-because we're covering Boggarts, which we never practiced against last year-" Adam continued.

"-and we both already know what scares us-"

"-so we ditched."

"Look Malfoy's trying!" Frisk exclaims.

Buckbeak had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking disdainful. Uh-oh.

"This is very easy," Malfoy drawled, loud enough for me to hear him. "I knew it must have been if Black could do it. . . .I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to Buckbeak. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

"Idiot!" Adam whispered.

It happened in a flash of talons; Malfoy let out a high pitched scream and next moment, Hagrid was wrestling to get Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get to Malfoy, who lay in the grass, blood streaming from the slash in his arm sleeve.

No! Adam, Frisk, and I leap off the fence and ran closer to the scene. Stupidly, I actually decided to help calm Buckbeak. Why? I can't stand Malfoy! He's awful! He hates me and my friends, yet I still jumped up to help him. Why?

"Hey, Buckbeak. Hey, buddy. He's a dumbass. I know, but you can't kill him."  I said calmly, which is a miracle. I felt a sting on my arm, but didn't think much by it.

"I'm dying!" Malfoy yelled as the class panicked. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Yer not dyin'!" said Hagrid, who had gone very white. 

"Please, you've got a cut on your arm! Grow up, wimp!" Adam growls before taking his arm and helping him up carefully.

Frisk and I walked with Adam, Malfoy, and Hagrid up to the hospital wing.

"Why are you helping me, Mudbloods?" Malfoy asked. He sounds genuinely curious.

"Someone had to," Adam, Frisk, and I say. "and no one else seemed to want to."

That was when I noticed the blood. "Oh, look at that," I say, annoyed. "Thanks to your idiotic arse, I got a nice slash on my arm. You are lucky I am magic and can fix the frickin' jacket, or you'd be dead. You better be grateful, Malfoy."

My Dad's leather jacket has a scratch in the arm, because of stupid Malfoy. He's lucky I haven't tried to strangle him.

Madam Pomfrey waved her wand to seal the cut on both mine and Malfoy's arms and wrapped it up to be safe. It stung a bit still because that was a sharp, deadly talon that cut into my flesh. 

I went down with Frisk and Adam as Malfoy milked his injury for all it was worth. Hagrid went back to his hut instead of going to the Great Hall for dinner. I sat down next to Harry as Hermione says, "Buckbeak got you too?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. It just stings a little." I smile. "Don't worry about me."

"Anyway, that was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid's first class, though, wasn't it?" said Ron, looking worried. "Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him. . . ."

"They wouldn't fire him, would they?" said Hermione anxiously, as I piled my plate with steak-and-kidney pudding.

"They better not," I say. "It's Malfoy's fault."

 Over at the Slytherin table, a large group including Crabbe and Goyle was huddled together, deep in conversation. They were probably coming up with their own version of Malfoy and I's injury.

"Well, you can't say it wasn't an interesting first day back," said Ron gloomily.

We went up to the crowd Gryffindor common room after dinner and tried to do the homework Minnie had given us, but all of us kept glancing out the tower window. 

"There's a light on in Hagrid's window," Harry said suddenly.

Ron looked at his watch.

"If we hurried, we could go down and see him. It's still quite early. . . ."

"I don't know," Hermione said slowly, as she glanced at Harry.

"I'm allowed to walk across the grounds," he said pointedly. "Sirius Black hasn't got past the dementors, has he?"

I focused on question eleven of the Transfiguration homework. Do not get involved in this conversation. So we ended up putting away our things and headed out of the portrait hole glad not to meet anybody on our way to the front doors, as we weren't entirely certain we were allowed to be out.

The grass was still wet and looked almost black in the twilight. When we reached Hagrid's hut, Harry knocked, and a voice growled, "C'min."

Hagrid was sitting in his shirtsleeves at his scrubbed wooden table; his boarhead, Fang, had his head in Hagrid's lap. One glance was all I needed to know Hagrid was tipsy; there was a pewter tankard almost as big as a bucket in front of him, and he seemed to be having difficulty focusing on us. 

"'Spect it's a record," he said thickly, when he recognized us. "Don' reckon they've ever had a teacher who lasted on'y a day before."

"You haven't been fired, Hagrid!" I exclaimed worriedly. They couldn't have! It's not his fault.

"Not yet," said Hagrid miserably, taking a huge gulp of whatever he was drinking. "But's only a matter of time, i'n't it, after Malfoy. . ."

"How is he?" said Ron as we all sat down. "It wasn't serious, was it?"

"Madam Pomfrey fixed him up all right." I say for Hagrid. "Sure, it was a deep cut, but she healed it alright. When the Rhees' and I left he was saying he was in agony. . .covered with bandages like my arm. . .moaning. . . .He's milking this for all it's worth."

"School gov'nors have bin told, o' course," said Hagrid miserably. "They reckon I started too big. Shoulda left hippogriffs fer later. . .done flobber worms or summat. . . .Jus' thought it'd make a good firs' lesson. . . .'S all my fault. . . ."

"It's all Malfoy's fault, Hagrid!" Harry insisted.

"We're witnesses," said Ron. "You said hippogriffs attack if you insult them. It's Malfoy's problem he wasn't listening. We'll tell Dumbledore what really happened."

"Don't worry, Hagrid, we've got you." I grin.

Tears leaked out of the crinkled corners of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes. He grabbed both Harry and Ron and pulled us into a bone-breaking hug.

"I think you've had enough to drink, Hagrid," said Hermione firmly. She took the tankard from the table and went outside to empty it.

"Ar, maybe she's right," said Hagrid letting go of Harry, Ron, and I. We all staggered away, rubbing our ribs and gasping for air.

Hagrid heaved himself out of his chair and followed Hermione unsteadily outside. We heard a loud splash. Oh no!

"What did he do?" I asked nervously as Hermione came back in with the empty tankard.

"Stuck his head in the water barrel," said Hermione, putting the tankard away.

Hagrid came back, his long hair and beard sopping wet, wiping the water out of his eyes.

"Tha's better," he said, shaking his head like a dog and drenching the four of us. "Listen, it was good of yeh ter come an' see me, I really-"

Hagrid stopped dead, staring at Harry as though he'd only just realized he was here.

"WHAT D'YEH THINK YOU'RE DOIN', EH?" he roared, so suddenly all of us jumped a good foot into the air. "YEH'RE NOT TO GO WANDERIN' AROUND AFTER DARK, HARRY! AN' YOU THREE! LETTIN' HIM!"

Hagrid strode over to Harry, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the door.

"C'mon!" Hagrid said angrily. "I'm takin' yer all back up ter, school, an' don' let me catch yeh walkin' down ter see me after dark again, I'm not worth that!"

Song: "Backseat Serenade" by All Time Low, and "House of Memories" By Panic! at the Disco

I wish a happy birthday to both Harry Potter and J. K. Rowling! Yay! Cursed child is finally released. NO SPOILERS! I HAVE NOT FINISHED THE BOOK YET! Please, please, please, if you want to talk about it, fine but do put spoiler warnings. I don't want the book to have been ruined for anybody.