Hogsmeade Day
Harry
No one in Gryffindor Tower slept that night. They knew that the castle was being searched again, and the whole House stayed awake in the common room, waiting to hear whether Black had been caught. Professor McGonagall came back at dawn, to tell them that he had again escaped.
Throughout the day, everywhere they went they saw signs of tighter security; Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Regulus Black; James was taking his patrolling duties much seriously now; Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes. Sir Cadogan had been fired. His portrait had been taken back to its lonely landing on the seventh floor, and the Fat Lady was back. She had been expertly restored, but was still extremely nervous, and had agreed to return to her job only on condition that she was given extra protection. A bunch of surly security trolls had been hired to guard her. They paced the corridor in a menacing group, talking in grunts and comparing the size of their clubs.
Harry couldn't help noticing, though, that Sirius seemed even more drained and stressed these days, and while he still took all his classes, his trademark joy and cheekiness were now forced.
Ron had become an instant celebrity. For the first time in his life, people were paying more attention to him than to Charles, and it was clear that Ron was rather enjoying the experience. Though still severely shaken by the night's events, he was happy to tell anyone who asked what had happened, with a wealth of detail.
"...I was asleep, and I heard this ripping noise, and I thought it was in my dream, you know? But then there was this draft... I woke up and one side of the hangings on my bed had been pulled down... I rolled over... and I saw him standing over me... like a skeleton, with loads of filthy hair... holding this great long knife... must've been twelve inches... and he looked at me, and I looked at him, and then I yelled, and he scampered."
"Why, though?" Adrian asked the other Prowlers as they met up in a private dungeon room. "Why did he run?"
Harry had been wondering the same thing. Why had Black, having got the wrong bed, not silenced Ron and proceeded to Charles? Black had proved twelve years ago that he didn't mind murdering innocent people, and this time he had been facing five unarmed boys, four of whom were asleep.
"He must've known he'd have a job getting back out of the castle once you'd yelled and woken people up," Cedric mused thoughtfully. "He'd've had to kill the whole House to get back through the portrait hole... then he would've met the teachers...."
Jéricho was very pale and fidgety nowadays, and Harry felt sorry for his best friend. The boy had always called Sirius his father, but now that Regulus was back, poor Jéricho seemed to not know what to refer him as.
Meanwhile, Neville was in total disgrace. Professor McGonagall was so furious with him that she banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits, gave him a detention, and forbade anyone to give him the password to the tower. Poor Neville was forced to wait outside the common room every night for somebody to let him in, while the security trolls leered unpleasantly at him.
None of these punishments, however, came close to matching the one his grandmother had in store for him. Two days after Black's break-in, she sent Neville the very worst thing a Hogwarts student could receive over breakfast - a Howler.
The school owls swooped into the Great Hall carrying the mail as usual, and Neville choked as a huge barn owl landed in front of him, a scarlet envelope clutched in its beak. Harry, who were sitting opposite him, recognized the letter as a Howler at once.
"Run for it, Neville," Charles advised glumly, reliving the memory of his own Howler.
Neville didn't need telling twice. He seized the envelope, and holding it before him like a bomb, sprinted out of the Great Hall while most of the Slytherin table exploded with laughter at the sight of him. They heard the Howler go off in the entrance hall - Neville's grandmother's voice, magically magnified to a hundred times its usual volume, shrieking about how he had brought shame on the whole family.
Charles
Charles was too busy feeling sorry for Neville to notice immediately that he had a letter too. Harry got his attention by elbowing him sharply.
"Ouch! Oh - thanks, Harry."
Charles tore open the envelope. The note inside said:
Dear Charles and Ron,
How about having tea with me this afternoon 'round six? I'll come collect you from the castle. WAIT FOR ME IN THE ENTRANCE HALL; YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED OUT ON YOUR OWN.
Cheers, Hagrid
"He probably wants to hear all about Black!" said Ron.
So at six o'clock that afternoon, Charles and Ron left Gryffindor Tower, passed the security trolls at a run, and headed down to the entrance hall.
Hagrid was already waiting for them.
"All right, Hagrid!" said Ron. "S'pose you want to hear about Saturday night, do you?"
"I've already heard all abou' it," said Hagrid, opening the front doors and leading them outside.
"Oh," said Ron, looking slightly put out.
The first thing they saw on entering Hagrid's cabin was Buckbeak, who was stretched out on top of Hagrid's patchwork quilt, his enormous wings folded tight to his body, enjoying a large plate of dead ferrets. Averting his eyes from this unpleasant sight, Charles saw a gigantic, hairy brown suit and a very horrible yellow-and-orange tie hanging from the top of Hagrid's wardrobe door.
"What are they for, Hagrid?" Charles asked.
"Buckbeaks case against the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures," said Hagrid. "This Friday. Him an' me'll be goin' down ter London together. I've booked two beds on the Knight Bus..."
Charles felt a nasty pang of guilt. He had completely forgotten that Buckbeak's trial was so near, and judging by the uneasy look on Ron's face, he had too. They had also forgotten their promise about helping him prepare Buckbeak's defense; the arrival of the Firebolt had driven it clean out of their minds.
Hagrid poured them tea and offered them a plate of Bath buns but they knew better than to accept; they had had too much experience with Hagrid's cooking.
"I got somethin' ter discuss with you two," said Hagrid, sitting himself between them and looking uncharacteristically serious.
"What?" Charles asked.
"Hermione," said Hagrid.
Ron frowned. "What about her?"
"She's in a righ' state, that's what. She's bin comin' down ter visit me a lot since Chris'mas. Bin feelin' lonely. Yeh've not been talking to her because her cat -"
"- ate Scabbers!" Ron interjected angrily.
"Because her cat acted like all cats do," Hagrid continued doggedly. "She's cried a fair few times, yeh know. Goin' through a rough time at the moment. Bitten off more'n she can chew, if yeh ask me, all the work she's tryin' ter do. Still found time ter help me with Buckbeak's case, mind... She's found some really good stuff fer me... reckon he'll stand a good chance now..."
"Hagrid, we should've helped as well - sorry -" Charles began awkwardly.
"I'm not blamin' yeh!" said Hagrid, waving the apology aside. "Gawd knows yeh've had enough ter be gettin' on with. I've seen yeh practicin' Quidditch ev'ry hour o' the day an' night - but I gotta tell yeh, I thought you two'd value yer friend more'n cats or rats. Tha's all."
Charles and Ron exchanged uncomfortable looks.
"Really upset, she was, when Black nearly stabbed yeh, Ron. She's got her heart in the right place, Hermione has, an' you two not talkin' to her -"
"If she'd just get rid of that cat, I'd speak to her again!" Ron said angrily. "But she's still sticking up for it! It's a maniac, and she won't hear a word against it!"
"Ah, well, people can be a bit stupid abou' their pets," said Hagrid wisely. Behind him, Buckbeak spat a few ferret bones onto Hagrid's pillow.
They spent the rest of their visit discussing Gryffindor's improved chances for the Quidditch Cup. At nine o'clock, Hagrid walked them back up to the castle.
A large group of people was bunched around the bulletin board when they returned to the common room.
"Hogsmeade, next weekend!" said Ron, craning over the heads to read the new notice. "What d'you reckon?" he added to Charles as they went to sit down.
"Yeah, sure..." Charles trailed off, thinking of Hermione.
Lyra
Lyra had been finding the cat since Christmas at the same place, and she conversed with it about mundane and random things. She was also getting along with Draco these days. At least, they were on speaking terms. Of course, Lyra didn't agree that having an innocent Hippogriff killed was right, but she believed that Hagrid shouldn't be kept in his teaching post.
While Draco and Lyra would sometimes talk or sit together in the common room with their friends, it was tense whenever they did. Pansy seemed to hate Lyra and vice versa. Daphne found Draco intolerable, and while Blaise and Draco got on well, and so did Draco and Theo, Draco and his gang seemed to hate Moon for being a half-blood. Interesting was that they didn't seem to ostracize Millicent as much.
Ginny, Amy, and Josephine had started to hang out with their group at times, too, and it seemed that while at first Draco had hated Ginny, her sassiness was growing on him. Lyra always had to hide a smile whenever Draco and Ginny got involved in their bickering rounds. They were both somewhat cutting in their remarks and comebacks, and as if the youngest Weasley had improved him, Draco had decreased his daddy threats by a margin.
Lyra suspected it was because Ginny had teased him mercilessly once about those threats, calling him a 'daddy's boy' who was nothing as an individual, and whatnot. All of Slytherin had laughed at Draco then, and the boy had changed since the next day.
It was obvious that Ginny had grown immune to the barbs about her family's wealth by her housemates, who had stopped using them, seeing how they had zero effect on the girl. Lyra was proud; Ginny was growing into a great individual.
When going to Hogsmeade, Lyra took the stray cat with her, who had, for the first time, been seen somewhere other than its usual spot in the courtyard. The cat was admired and fussed over a lot by her friends, except for Blaise who seemed to have an allergy to cat fur.
The whole day was wasted away having fun, and Lyra was distracted by her worry over Charles since she'd heard about Regulus Black's break-in in Charles' dorm. She hadn't said anything to anyone but Blaise and Daphne, who'd been more worried about why Regulus fled from the scene instead of silencing Ron and moving on to Charles.
She didn't notice, at the end of the day, the triumphant fist-bump Daphne and Blaise shared.
Charles
They went to the post office first to have a good look around; they'd not stayed long or seen much the last time. The owls sat hooting softly down at him, at least three hundred of them; from Great Grays right down to tiny little Scops owls ("Local Deliveries Only"), which were so small they could have sat in the palm of Charles' hand.
Then they visited Zonko's, which was so packed with students Charles had to exercise great care not to tread on anyone and cause a panic. There were jokes and tricks to fulfill even Fred's and George's wildest dreams. They left Zonko's with their money bags considerably lighter than they had been on entering, but their pockets bulging with Dungbombs, Hiccup Sweets, Frog Spawn Soap, and a Nose-Biting Teacup apiece.
The day was fine and breezy, and neither of them felt like staying indoors, so they walked past the Three Broomsticks and climbed a slope to visit the Shrieking Shack, the most haunted dwelling in Britain. It stood a little way above the rest of the village, and even in daylight was slightly creepy, with its boarded windows and dank overgrown garden.
"Even the Hogwarts ghosts avoid it," said Ron as they leaned on the fence, looking up at it. "I asked Nearly Headless Nick... he says he's heard a very rough crowd lives here. No one can get in. Fred and George tried, obviously, but all the entrances are sealed shut...."
Charles didn't say anything, biting his lip. Of course, he hadn't told anyone of Remus' secret, not wanting to betray his godfather like that. Still, it was strange, sometimes, keeping secrets from his best friends. That's when they heard voices nearby. Someone was climbing toward the house from the other side of the hill; moments later, Malfoy appeared, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy was speaking.
"... should have an owl from Father any time now. He had to go to the hearing to tell them about my arm... about how I couldn't use it for three months..."
Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.
"I really wish I could hear that great hairy moron trying to defend himself... 'There's no 'arm in 'im, 'onest that hippogriff's as good as dead -"
Malfoy suddenly caught sight of Ron and Charles. His pale face split in a malevolent grin. "What are you doing here?" He looked up at the crumbling house behind them and addressed Ron. "Suppose You'd love to live here, wouldn't you, Weasley? Dreaming about having your own bedroom? I heard your family all sleep in one room - is that true?"
Charles seized the back of Ron's robes to stop him from leaping on Malfoy. "Leave him to me," he hissed in Ron's ear.
Charles discreetly bent down, hidden from view by Ron, and scooped a large handful of mud out of the path.
"We were just discussing your friend Hagrid," Malfoy said to Ron. "Just trying to imagine what he's saying to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. D'you think he'll cry when they cut off his hippogriff's-"
SPLAT.
Malfoy's head jerked forward as the mud hit him; his silvery blond hair was suddenly dripping in muck.
"What the -?"
Ron had to hold onto the fence to keep himself standing, he was laughing so hard. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle spun stupidly on the spot, staring wildly around, Malfoy trying to wipe his hair clean, before they spotted Charles grinning at them.
Charles didn't give them time to recover and ran along the path, where a particularly sloppy puddle yielded some foul smelling, green sludge.
SPLATTER.
Crabbe and Goyle caught some this time. Goyle hopped furiously on the spot, trying to rub it out of his small, dull eyes.
"Wait till my father hears this!" Malfoy yelled, wiping his face, and turned tail and ran, at breakneck speed, back down the hill, Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
Harry
"I'm sorry, Harry," Alicia muttered as she looked up at Harry unfalteringly. "I just... I like you very much, but... I think we're just good as friends, for now. Maybe we can continue our relationship later someday, but for now, with the OWLs and all... it just..."
"You're breaking up with me?" Harry asked.
Alicia swallowed. "Yeah. But I still wanna be friends..."
Harry sighed. He would be lying to himself if he didn't admit he'd seen this coming. Things hadn't been going too well lately; they'd both been under a lot of pressure with the upcoming OWLs and Quidditch. Harry had dated twice before, and he knew they weren't getting much time to themselves.
Harry also had been wanting to break it off for a while now, to be honest. So, he nodded. "You know, Alicia, I've been thinking the same for a while now... maybe later, next year or whatever, but neither of us have the time now... but yeah, you're a good friend of mine and I'd like it to remain the same."
Alicia smiled broadly. "Great! Thanks, Harry, you can't know how relieved I am."
Harry returned her smile. "Yeah... well, I suppose I'll see you later? I have my friends to get to right now..."
Alicia nodded and bid him goodbye, before walking away in the opposite direction in search of her friends. Harry reached out to his friends in his head.
Hey, mates. Where are you?
It was Cedric who replied. The Three Broomsticks.
Okay, then. Wait for me, I'm coming.
Harry hurried over to the location, warmth hitting him the minute he walked inside. He spotted his friends at the far end and walked over to them, getting a Butterbear from Rosmerta on his way.
"Hey, guys!"
Adrian grinned at him. "Where's your girl?"
"Alicia? We just broke up."
The others exchanged bemused looks. Harry noted that Sera looked strangely satisfied and relieved.
"She dumped you?" Jéricho smirked slyly.
"Nah, it was mutual. We're still good friends, though. It didn't feel like a change or anything, either, you know. We weren't dating properly."
Cedric nodded. "Good. You need to focus on OWLs, anyway."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, Ced. Anyway, I've got something to tell you..." Harry scanned the place with his eyes before lowering his voice and leaning forward. "Look, something's wrong with Sirius."
"No shit," Jéricho frowned. "We've all noticed. He's been wierd all year."
"Hasn't he?" Harry sighed. "First, he's always stressed and pale. Then, he lies to dad and Moony about being sick, but attends the Quidditch match as Padfoot... He's hesitant about the Patronus clubs... And I also overheard this conversation..."
Harry told them all about the argument he'd heard between Sirius and the unknown hoarse-voiced man. The others seemed to come to the same conclusion as him as they all paled.
"What if it's..." Adrian cleared his throat, voicing the obvious question on all their minds. "What if it was Regulus Black?"
"But something doesn't add up!" Sera hissed. "Why would he be helping a criminal? Besides, he wouldn't lie to James... not about something so serious..."
But Harry and Jéricho exchanged a skeptical look. They weren't so sure. Sirius had always been known to keep secrets a lot. His upbringing had made him naturally mysterious and distrusting. The man hardly ever let anyone in, and he'd done it first with the Marauders, one of whom had betrayed him. According to James, Sirius had grown very cautious since then.