⚡︎
┄┄ .•* 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟐 *•. ┄┄

𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆!

────── *•. ⚡︎ .•*──────

It looked like the end of Ron and Hermione's friendship.

Well, for Hermione it wasn't, but she was being ignored or glared at by the red-haired so naturally, she did the same. She was mad that Ron had tried to kick Crooks, but she was madder that the cat didn't get the rat.

This was unfortunate for Harry because he wanted to spend time with both of them. Usually, he'd stay with Ron but sometimes when he wasn't, and also wasn't at practices, he and Hermione would play a one-on-one Quidditch game or race in their brooms—they usually tied or Harry would win by one.

Hermione didn't waver on her statement that the rat was alive—she knew it was. Yet, Harry and Ron believed otherwise and she always shrugged them off with a "You'll see."

The thing was, even if mad at each other they hung out together sometimes — not alone, mind you. Harry was always around. One time in the common room, Ron was sulking sending side glares at Hermione, who was casually flipping through a fashion magazine—her new obsession—,the others saw this and tried to cheer him up.

"Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was," said Fred bracingly. "And he's been off-color for ages, he was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly—one swallow—he probably didn't feel a thing."

Hermione bit down a laugh at that, having to cough instead, earning a wink from Fred.

"Fred!" said Ginny indignantly.

"All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself," said George, and Hermione was biting her lip to prevent herself from smiling (because no one cared for the rat) or sulking (because the thing wasn't actually dead).

"He bit Goyle for us once!" Ron said miserably and Hermione had to stop herself from laughing. "Remember, Harry?"

"Yeah, that's true," said Harry.

"His finest hour," said Fred, unable to keep a straight face, and Hermione was biting her lip so hard now, she was afraid it'd bleed. "Let the scar on Goyle's finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory. Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat, what's the point of moaning?"

Ron still sulked after that—and randomly glared at Hermione, who would, in return, smile at him or simply flip him off, or even take a picture much to the other's amusement. As a last attempt to cheer Ron up, Harry told him to came along to the last practice before the Ravenclaw match. Hermione stayed in the common room, though. She didn't have the energy or patience to go.

The next morning she woke up to the weirdest sight. Harry—or rather his broom—was being escorted to the Great Hall by a battalion of lions—it was really just the House's blokes, though. She laughed slightly, looped her arm with Ginny—the poor girl had no choice but to go along—and headed to the Great Hall behind them.

"Did you see his face?" said Ron gleefully, looking back at Malfoy as all of them sat down on the table. "He can't believe it! This is brilliant!"

Wood, too, was basking in the reflected glory of the Firebolt.

"Put it here, Harry," he said, laying the broom in the middle of the table and carefully turning it so that its name faced upward, making Hermione shake her head in amusement.

People from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were soon coming over to look. Cedric Diggory came over to congratulate Harry on having acquired such a superb replacement for his Nimbus—he did stop to stare at Hermione for a couple of seconds, which she didn't notice as opposed to the guys around her—, and Percy's Ravenclaw girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, asked if she could actually hold the Firebolt.

"Now, now, Penny, no sabotage!" said Percy heartily as she examined the Firebolt closely and Hermione cringed inwardly. If she had to spent the whole next summer with Percy she would be doing that a lot.

"Penelope and I have got a bet on," he told the team. "Ten Galleons on the outcome of the match!"

Penelope put the Firebolt down again, thanked Harry, and went back to her table.

"Harry—make sure you win," said Percy, in an urgent whisper. "I haven't got ten Galleons. Yes, I'm coming, Penny!"

And he bustled off to join her in a piece of toast.

"Sure you can manage that broom, Potter?" said a cold, drawling voice. Draco Malfoy had arrived for a closer look, Crabbe, and Goyle right behind him.

"Yeah, reckon so," said Harry casually.

"Got plenty of special features, hasn't it?" said Malfoy, eyes glittering maliciously. "Shame it doesn't come with a parachute—in case you get too near a Dementor."

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered, Hermione was frowning. Weren't parachutes a muggle thing?

"Pity you can't attach an extra arm to yours, Malfoy," said Harry. "Then it could catch the Snitch for you."

The Gryffindor team laughed loudly. Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed, and he stalked away. They watched him rejoin the rest of the Slytherin team, who put their heads together, no doubt asking Malfoy whether Harry's broom really was a Firebolt.

At a quarter to eleven, the Gryffindor team set off for the locker rooms. And Hermione dragged Ginny along to the stands waiting for the game to start.

"They're off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt that Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to Which Broomstick, the Firebolt's going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship—"

"Jordan, would you mind telling us what's going on in the match?" interrupted ProfessorMcGonagall's voice.

"Right you are, Professor—just giving a bit of background information—the Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in auto-brake and—"

"Jordan!"

"Okay, okay, Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor, heading for goal. . . ."

"Gryffindor leads by eighty points to zero, and look at that Firebolt go! Potter's really putting it through its paces now, see it turn—Chang's Comet is just no match for it, the Firebolt's precision—balance is really noticeable in these long—"

"JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!"

"HARRY, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN!" Wood roared as Harry swerved to avoid a collision. "KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!"

"Expecto patronum!" Harry screamed at some point as he saw "dementors" approaching him.

Something silver-white, something enormous, erupted from the end of his wand. He knew it had shot directly at the Dementors but didn't pause to watch; his mind still miraculously clear, he looked ahead—he was nearly there. He stretched out the hand still grasping his wand and just managed to close his fingers over the small, struggling Snitch. Madam Hooch's whistle sounded. Harry turned around in midair and saw six scarlet blurs bearing down on him; the next moment, the whole team was hugging him so hard he was nearly pulled off his broom. Down below he could hear the roars of the Gryffindors in the crowd.

Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were already making their way down to congratulate Harry.

"Yes!" Ron yelled, yanking Harry's arm into the air. "Yes! Yes!"

Hermione grinned and ran to Harry giving him a big hug which he reciprocated.

"I knew you could do it, Harold. And that Patronus was fucking impressive!"

"Well done, Harry!" said Percy, looking delighted as Hermione let go of Harry. "Ten Galleons to me! Must find Penelope, excuse me—"

"Good for you, Harry!" roared Seamus Finnigan.

"Ruddy brilliant!" boomed Hagrid over the heads of the milling Gryffindors.

"That was quite some Patronus," said a voice in their ears.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron turned around to see Professor Lupin, who looked both shaken and pleased.

"The Dementors didn't affect me at all!" Harry said excitedly and Hermione snorted. "I didn't feel a thing!"

"That would be because they—er—weren't Dementors," said Professor Lupin. "Come and see—"

He led them out of the crowd until they were able to see the edge of the field.

"You gave Mr. Malfoy quite a fright," said Lupin.

Hermione and Ron burst out into laughter as Harry stared at the sight before them. Lying in a crumpled heap on the ground were Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus Flint, the Slytherin team Captain, all struggling to remove themselves from long, black, hooded robes. Standing over them, with an expression of the utmost fury on her face, was Professor McGonagall.

"An unworthy trick!" she was shouting. "A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the GryffindorSeeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking to ProfessorDumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes now!"

"Come on, Harry! Ron, Mione!" said George, fighting his way over. "Party! Gryffindor common room, now!"

Hermione grinned and looped her arms through both her friends'—completely forgetting about her stand with Ron—and led the way to the Gryffindor tower with a laughing Harry and Ron beside her.

As they got there Hermione went upstairs to get out of her clothes and put more party-like ones.

She got dressed in a scarlet tank top and a mini black skirt, paired with her high knee boots and her leather jacket.

She went back downstairs just as Fred and George returned with armfuls of bottles of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags full of Honeydukes sweets—completely missing how a particular twin was about to drop everything in his hands at the sight of her; like most guys in the party.

Hermione, oblivious to the stares just skipped over to Harry and Ron—Ron, mind you, was gaping at her, and Harry—who had some decency—had to tap his chin before Hermione got there so he'd stop.

"How did you do that?" squealed Angelina Johnson as George started throwing Peppermint Toads into the crowd.

"With a little help from Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," Fred muttered in Harry's ear and Hermione grinned knowingly from beside him.

If only the twins knew they gave the only Marauder child his legacy. . . .

"If Scabbers hadn't just been eaten, he could have had some of those Fudge Flies. He used to really like them —" Ron started saying loudly hoping Hermione would hear.

She did.

Hermione heard him loud and clear, hence why she grinned, waved at him sarcastically, and grabbed the nearest person's hand leading them to the "dance floor".

"What are we doing, Granger?" Fred asked as he had been dragged along with her. She looked up at him surprised and shrugged.

"We're dancing, of course!"

She grinned and started swaying her hips to the song as her curls bounced around her. Fred stood there awkwardly—watching her with a smile on his lips—which made her roll her eyes and grab his hands—which were about ten times bigger than hers, mind you—and make them sway around and twirl.

After merely seconds Fred was back to his usual self, dancing weirdly with Hermione to weird wizarding music—she desperately needed to introduce them to real music. . . . Hermione thought to herself.

The Gryffindor party ended only when Professor McGonagall turned up in her tartan dressing gown and hair net at one in the morning, to insist that they all go to bed.

Hermione, who was now dancing with Harry, bid him goodbye and waved at Ron, and climbed the stairs to her dormitory. She put on her pajamas—some shorts and an oversized Metallica t-shirt—and fell asleep almost instantly.

Hermione was just dreaming of two wolves having a tea party with a panda when—

"AAARRGGHH! NOOO!"

A scream was heard through the Gryffindor tower and she groaned.

Sirius. Did he honestly have to come? When "Scabbers" was supposedly dead nonetheless.

She groaned again and stood up and along with her roommates—Parvati and Lavender—made her way downstairs to the common room. Doors opened behind them, and sleepy voices called after them.

"Who shouted?"

"What're you doing?"

The common room was lit with the glow of the dying fire, still littered with the debris from the party. It was deserted.

"Are you sure you weren't dreaming, Ron?"

"I'm telling you, I saw him!"

"What's all the noise?"

"Professor McGonagall told us to go to bed!"

A few of the girls—Hermione along with them—had come down their staircase all of them wearing nightgowns, Hermione being the only one with a sense of style. Boys, too, were reappearing.

"Excellent, are we carrying on?" said Fred Weasley brightly and Hermione grinned.

"Everyone back upstairs!" said Percy, hurrying into the common room and pinning his Head Boy badge to his pajamas as he spoke, making Hermione roll her eyes as she approached the twins and the other boys.

"Perce—Sirius Black!" said Ron faintly. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"

The common room went very still, except Hermione who was yawning and leaned her head on Fred's arm as she couldn't reach his shoulder.

"Nonsense!" said Percy, looking startled. "You had too much to eat, Ron—had a nightmare—"

"I'm telling you—"

"Now, really, enough's enough!" Professor McGonagall was back. She slammed the portrait behind her as she entered the common room and stared furiously around. "I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!"

"I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!" said Percy, puffing himself up indignantly. "I was just telling them all to get back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare—"

"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ron yelled. "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"

Professor McGonagall stared at him.

"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?"

"Ask him!" said Ron, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan's picture. "Ask him if he saw—"

Glaring suspiciously at Ron, Professor McGonagall pushed the portrait back open and went outside. The whole common room listened with bated breath.

"Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?"

"Certainly, good lady!" cried Sir Cadogan. There was a stunned silence, both inside and outside the common room.

"You — you did?" said Professor McGonagall. "But — but the password!"

"He had 'em!" said Sir Cadogan proudly. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!" Professor McGonagall pulled herself back through the portrait hole to face the stunned crowd. She was white as chalk.

"Which person," she said, her voice shaking, "which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"

There was utter silence, broken by the smallest of terrified squeaks. Neville Longbottom, trembling from head to fluffy slippered toes, raised his hand slowly into the air.

"Minnie, come on," Hermione started as she saw McGonagall fuming, "I know it wasn't the smartest thing, but he came up with a way of keeping track of the passwords. Besides, everyone is fine."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes, lips uprising, and Hermione could swear she saw smoke coming out of her ears, making Hermione flinch and slightly hide behind Fred.

⚡︎