A/n: I've used the British slang 'melt' in this chapter. It basically means a complete fucking idiot.

When Johnny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing they saw was Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As they passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter.

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

"It's fine," Johnny waved her off. "He's only having a laugh."

Johnny dropped into a seat at the Gryffindor table, next to George.

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

"Malfoy," said Ron, sitting down on George's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table.

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, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy.

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

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

"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Johnny in a low voice.

"Forget it, Johnny," said George 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 of the prisoners go mad in there."

Hermione was examining her's and Johnny's new schedule.

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

"Hermione, Johnny," said Ron, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, "they've messed up your timetables. Look -- they've got you both down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough time."

"We'll manage. We've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall," Hermione said, winking at Johnny.

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

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

"Well then --"

"Pass the marmalade," said Hermione.

"But --"

"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if our timetable's a bit full?" Hermione snapped. "I told you, Johnny and I have fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absent-mindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand.

"All righ'?" he said eagerly, pausing on his way to the staff table. "Yer in my firs' ever lesson! Right after lunch! Bin up since five getting' everthin' ready...hope it's OK...me, a teacher...hones'ly..."

He grinned broadly at them and headed off to the staff table, still swinging the polecat.

"Wonder what he's been getting ready?" said Ron, a note of anxiety in his voice.

"Maybe a Dragon," Johnny said sarcastically.

The Hall was starting to empty as people headed off towards their first lesson. Ron checked his schedule.

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

They finished breakfast hastily, said goodbye to Fred and George and walked back through the hall. As they passed the Slytherin table, Malfoy did yet another impression of a fainting fit. The shouts of laughter followed Johnny into the Entrance Hall.

The journey through the castle to North Tower was a long one. Two years at Hogwarts hadn't taught them everything about the castle, and they had never been inside North Tower before.

"There's -- got -- to -- be -- a -- short -- cut," Ron panted, as they 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," said Hermione, peering down the empty passage to the right.

"Can't be," said Ron. "That's south. Look, you can see a bit of the lake outside the window..."

Johnny was watching the painting. A fat, dappled-gray pony had just ambled onto the grass and was grazing nonchalantly. Johnny was used to the subjects of Hogwarts paintings moving around and leaving their frames to visit each other, but he always enjoyed watching them. A moment later, a short, squat knight in a suit of armour had clanked into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he had just fallen off.

"Aha!" he yelled, seeing Johnny, Harry, Ron and Hermione. "What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!"

They watched in astonishment as the little knight tugged his sword out of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hopping up and down in rage. But the sword was too long for him; a particularly wild swing made him overbalance, and he landed facedown in the grass.

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

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

"If I wanted to kill myself I'd climb your ego and jump to your IQ," Johnny said bluntly, causing Hermione to stifle a giggle, Ron to burst into boyish laughter and Harry to grin.

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 with all his might, he couldn't get it out again. Finally, he had to flop back down onto the grass and push up his visor to mop his sweating face.

"Listen," said Harry, taking advantage of the knight's exhaustion, "we're looking for the North Tower. You don't know the way, do you?"

"A quest!" The knight's rage seemed to vanish instantly. 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!"

He gave the sword another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the fat pony, gave up, and cried, "On foot then, good sirs and gentle lady! On! On!"

"This Knight's family tree must be a cactus because everybody on it is a prick," Johnny whispered directly in Hermione's ear.

And the Knight ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of sight.

They hurried after him along the corridor, following the sound of his armor. Every now and then they spotted him running through a picture ahead.

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

Puffing loudly, Johnny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed the tightly spiraling steps, getting dizzier and dizzier, until at last they heard the murmur of voices above them and knew they had reached the classroom.

"Farewell!" cried the knight, popping his head into a painting of some sinister-looking monks. "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," muttered Ron as the knight disappeared, "if we ever need someone mental."

"Thank fuck you agree with me," Johnny sighed, hugging Ron. Ron patted his friends back awkwardly, not having received a hug of Johnny like Hermione and Harry had.

They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this landing, but Ron nudged Johnny and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.

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

As though in answer to his question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at their feet. Everyone got quiet.

"After you," said Johnny, grinning at Hermione.

"You're such a perv," Hermione rolled her eyes playfully, winking at Johnny.

"She's a freak," Ron muttered in Johnny's ear.

"You don't know the half of it," Johnny muttered back.

Johnny went up second to last and emerged into the strangest-looking classroom he had ever seen. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large 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 array of teacups.

Johnny appeared at Ron and Harry's shoulder as the class assembled around them, all talking in whispers.

"Where is she?" Ron said.

A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice.

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

"Holy Mother Teressa!" Johnny jumped a foot, latching onto Harry.

"You literally faced You-Know-Who, and she made you jump?" Harry asked, shoving Johnny to the floor.

"Yeah, well..." Johnny couldn't think of a good comeback and said: "You're a melt, you melt."

Harry laughed and helped his best friend up, even helping him dust off his robes.

Johnny's immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

"Sit, my children, sit," she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Johnny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat themselves 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."

Nobody said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement. 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 at 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..."

At these words, Johnny, Harry and Ron glanced, grinning, at Hermione, who looked startled 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 the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. "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 Professor Trelawney, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulped. Professor 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.

"In the second term," Professor Trelawney went on, "we shall progress to the crystal ball -- 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, two of our numbers will leave us for ever."

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of 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 Professor Trelawney.

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

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."

Sure enough, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china. Professor 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 Johnny had had their teacups filled, they went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly. They swilled the dregs around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over.

"Right," said Johnny as they both opened their books at pages five and six. "What can you see in mine?"

"A load of soggy brown stuff," said Hermione. The heavily perfumed smoke in the room was making them feel sleepy and stupid.

"That sounds so wrong," Johnny grimaced, earning a smack from his girlfriend.

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

Hermione and Johnny decided to listen to Ron trying to tell Harry about his.

"Right, you've got a crooked sort of cross..." He consulted Unfogging the Future. "That means you're going to have 'trials and suffering' -- sorry about that -- but there's a thing that could be the sun. Hang on...that means 'great happiness'...so you're going to suffer but be very happy..."

"You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me," said Johnny, and the three boys had to stifle their laughs as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction.

Ron peered into Harry's teacup, his forehead wrinkled with effort. "There's a blob a bit like a bowler hat," he said. "Maybe you're going to work for the Ministry of Magic..."

He turned the teacup the other way up.

"But this way it looks more like an acorn...what's that?" He scanned his copy of Unfogging the Future. "'A windfall, unexpected gold.' Excellent, you can lend me some. And there's a thing here," he turned the cup again, "that looks like an animal...yeah, if that was its head...it looks like a hippo...no, a sheep..."

Professor Trelawney whirled around as Harry, Johnny and Hermione let out a snort of laughter.

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

Professor 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. Professor Trelawney stared at her.

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

Johnny, Harry and Ron stared at her with a mixture of amazement and admiration. They had never heard Hermione speak to a teacher like that before. Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Harry's cup again and continued to turn it.

"The club...an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup..."

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

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

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

There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at 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...."

"What is it, Professor?" said Dean Thomas at once. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Johnny, Hermione, Harry and Ron's table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Harry's cup.

"My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you have the Raven."

"The what?" said Johnny.

He could tell that he wasn't the only one who didn't understand; Dean Thomas shrugged at him and Lavender Brown looked puzzled, but nearly everybody else clapped their hands to their mouths in horror.

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

Everyone was looking at Harry, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney's chair.

"I don't think it looks like a Raven," she said flatly.

Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting 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 was tilting his head from side to side.

"It looks like a Raven if you do this," he said, with his eyes almost shut, "but it looks more like a donkey from here," he said, leaning to the left.

"When you've all finished deciding whether my cousin is going to die or not!" said Johnny, taking even himself by surprise. Now nobody seemed to want to look at him.

"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice. "Yes...please pack away your things..."

Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and closed their bags. Even Ron was avoiding Harry's eyes.

"Until we meet again," said Professor 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."

Johnny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione descended Professor Trelawney's ladder and the winding stair in silence, then set off for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson. It took them so long to find her classroom that, early as they had left Divination, they were only just in time.

Johnny and Harry chose a seat right at the back of the room. Johnny hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling them about Animagi, and wasn't even watching when she transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

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

Everybody's heads turned toward Harry again, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand.

"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and --"

"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"

Everyone stared at her.

"Harry," said Johnny, finally.

"I see," said Professor McGonagall, fixing Harry with her beady eyes. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sibyll Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues --" Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, more 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 stopped again, and then 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."

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

"Ron, cheer up," said Hermione, 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.

"Harry," he said, in a low, serious voice, "You haven't seen a great big raven anywhere, have you?"

"Yeah, I have," said Harry. "I saw one the night I left the Dursleys'."

Ron let his fork fall with a clatter.

"Probably a random bird," said Hermione calmly.

Ron looked at Hermione as though she had gone mad.

"Hermione, if Harry's seen a Raven, that's -- that's bad," he said. "My -- my uncle Bilius saw one and -- and he died twenty-four hours later!"

"Coincidence," said Hermione airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" said Ron, starting to get angry. "Ravens scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

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

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 Raven in that cup!" said Ron hotly.

"You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep," said Johnny coolly, propping his new Care of Magical Creatures book up against the same jug Hermione had.

"Professor Trelawney said Hermione doesn't have the right aura! She just don't like being bad at something for a change!"

He had touched a nerve. Johnny slammed his Care of Magical Creatures book down on the table so hard that bits of meat and carrot flew everywhere.

"If being good at Divination means we have to pretend to see death omens in my cousins fucking cup, I'm not sure Hermione and I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish!"

"Johnny and I both agreed our Arithmancy class is better," said Hermione, agreeing with her boyfriend. They snatched up their bags and stalked away.

Ron frowned after them.

"What're they talking about?" he said to Harry. "They haven't been to an Arithmancy class yet."

Johnny was pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. Yesterday's rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as they set off for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class. Johnny had taken his robe and jumper off and left them in the Common Room. His white school shirt was untucked with the sleeves rolled up and his green and silver tie was slackened.

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!"

For one nasty moment, Johnny thought that Hagrid was going to lead them into the forest; Johnny, Harry and Ron had had enough unpleasant experiences in there to last him a lifetime. However, Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing 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.

"Eh?" said Hagrid.

"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated.

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

The class all shook their heads, minus Johnny.

"You've got to stroke them," Johnny informed them.

"Thanks Johnny," Draco smiled at Johnny. Johnny smiled back.

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

"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 them into the forest and out of sight.

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

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said.

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

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

Trotting toward them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Johnny had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly, orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly 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 the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

"Gee up, there!" he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. Everyone drew back slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

Johnny could sort of see what Hagrid meant. Once you got over the first shock of seeing something that was half horse, half bird, you started to appreciate the Hippogriffs' gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to hair, each of them a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.

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

No one seemed to want to. Johnny, however, approached the fence eagerly.

"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."

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't listening; they were talking in an undertone and Johnny had a nasty feeling they were plotting how best to disrupt the lesson.

"Yeh always wait fer 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' 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, and Hermione had misgivings, but Johnny stepped forward.

"I'll do it," said Johnny.

There was an intake of breath from behind him.

Johnny ignored them. He climbed over the paddock fence.

"Good man, Johnny!" 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. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath.

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

Johnny's eyes immediately began to water, but he didn't shut them. Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring at Johnny with one fierce orange eye. "Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, Johnny...now, bow."

Johnny didn't feel much like exposing the back of his neck to Buckbeak, but he did as he was told. He gave a short bow and then looked up.

The Hippogriff was still staring haughtily at him. It didn't move.

"Ah," said Hagrid, sounding worried. "Right -- back away, now, Johnny, easy does it --"

But then, to Johnny's enormous surprise, the Hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.

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

Johnny moved slowly toward the Hippogriff and reached out toward it. He patted the beak several times and the Hippogriff closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it.

The class broke into applause.

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

"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," said Hagrid, "an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that..."

Johnny put his foot on the top of Buckbeak's wing and hoisted himself onto its back. Buckbeak stood up. Johnny wasn't sure where to hold on; everything in front of him was covered with feathers. Just as Johnny made himself comfortable, he saw his mother enter the padlocked gate, smiling widely at her son.

"Go on, then!" roared Hagrid, slapping the Hippogriffs hindquarters.

Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Johnny, he just had time to seize the Hippogriff around the neck before he was soaring upward. It was nothing like a broomstick, and Johnny knew which one he preferred; the Hippogriff's wings beat uncomfortably on either side of him, catching him under his legs and making him feel he was about to be thrown off; the glossy feathers slipped under his fingers and he didn't dare get a stronger grip; instead of the smooth action of his Nimbus Two Thousand and One, he now felt himself rocking backward and forward as the hindquarters of the Hippogriff rose and fell with its wings.

Buckbeak flew him once around the paddock and then headed back to the ground; this was the bit Johnny had been dreading; he leaned back as the smooth neck lowered, feeling he was going to slip off over the beak, then felt a heavy thud as the four ill-assorted feet hit the ground. He just managed to hold on and push himself straight again.

"Good work, Johnny!" roared Hagrid as everyone. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

Emboldened by Johnny's 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 backward from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees. Harry, Ron and Hermione practiced on the chestnut, while Johnny watched.

"You did great," Evelyn smiled, leaning on the wall Johnny was leaning on.

"Thanks," Johnny smiled back, resting his head on his mother's.

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to Draco, who was now patting his beak, looking disdainful.

"This is very easy," Draco drawled, as Johnny came to stand next to him. "I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the Hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

It happened in a flash of steely talons; Johnny had pushed Draco out of the way and next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Draco, who was sat next to Johnny. Blood was blossoming over Johnny's shirt.

"He's dying!" Draco yelled as the class panicked. "He's dying, look at him! It's killed him!"

"He's not dying'!" said Evelyn, who had gone very white as she kneeled, next to her son, conjuring a stretcher. "Someone help me --"

Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Evelyn followed the stretcher carrying a passed out Johnny. As they passed, the class saw that there was a long, deep gash on Johnny's arm; blood splattered the grass and Hagrid went with Evelyn and Johnny, up the slope toward the castle, apologising profusely to the panic stricken mother.

Very shaken, the Care of Magical Creatures class followed at a walk. The Slytherins were all shouting about Hagrid.

"They should sack him straight away!" said Pansy, who was in hysterics over the boy she considered her best friend.

"It was Malfoy's fault!" snapped Dean. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly.

They all climbed the stone steps into the deserted entrance hall.

"You think he'll be all right?" said Hermione nervously.

"Course he will. Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second," said Harry.

"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 were among the first to reach the Great Hall at dinnertime, hoping to see Hagrid, but he wasn't there.

"They wouldn't fire him, would they?" said Hermione anxiously, not touching her steak-and-kidney pudding.

"They'd better not," said Ron, who wasn't eating either.

Harry was watching the Slytherin table. A large group including Draco, Crabbe and Goyle was huddled together, deep in conversation. Harry was sure they were cooking up their own version of how Johnny had been injured. Johnny hadn't returned from the Hospital Wing either, but Hermione informed them that she was going there straight after dinner.

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

"Hey," Hermione said as she walked into the Hospital Wing, seeing Johnny and Evelyn in the far left hand corner. Johnny was sat up in bed, his left arm in a thick white cast with red taints from the blood. "How're you feeling?"

"Well Madame Pompfry can't stop the bleeding at the moment," Evelyn informed her, holding up a knife and fork. "And seeing as Johnny is useless with his right arm, he's got to be fed like a little kid."

"I can do it if you need to go," Hermione offered, holding out her hand for the utensils.

"Thank you," Evelyn said with a sigh. "I've got stuff to mark and coffee to drink."

"It's no problem, Professor," Hermione smiled at Evelyn.

"Still just Evelyn, dear," Evelyn said to Hermione, kissing her and Johnny on the forehead.

Evelyn left, leaving a quiet Johnny and Hermione.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, sitting sideways on the bed. She began cutting up the steak and the jacket potato on his plate. "You've been awfully quiet."

"I'm sorry," Johnny mumbled.

"What for?" Hermione asked, placing the utensils down on the movable tray and moving said tray out of the way.

"For being so weak," he said, glancing down at his arm.

"You're not weak," Hermione said, lifting Johnny's chin so their eyes would meet. "You're the strongest guy I know. You defeated Voldemort in your First Year, you stayed strong when you found out Caterina and Luca weren't your family, Hell you get along with my Dad and that's a whole new sense of strength in itself!"

"I am?" Johnny asked, placing his hand on hers and leaning into her touch.

"Of course you are!" Said Hermione, kissing him quickly before grabbing the tray. "Open wide, here comes the aeroplane!"

"I hate you so much!" Johnny laughed, but he obliged Hermione's request.

"I love you too."