Exams and Executions
Harry
Harry's euphoria at finally winning the Quidditch Cup lasted at least a week. Even the weather seemed to be celebrating; as June approached, the days became cloudless and sultry, and all anybody felt like doing was strolling onto the grounds and flopping down on the grass with several pints of iced pumpkin juice, perhaps playing a casual game of Gobstones or watching the giant squid propel itself dreamily across the surface of the lake.
But they couldn't. Exams were nearly upon them, and instead of lazing around outside, the students were forced to remain inside the castle, trying to bully their brains into concentrating while enticing wafts of summer air drifted in through the windows. Even Fred and George had been spotted working now.
Percy was getting ready to take his N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests), and as Percy hoped to enter the Ministry of Magic, he needed top grades. He was becoming increasingly edgy and gave very severe punishments to anybody who disturbed the quiet of the common room in the evenings.
"Hey, our career meetings are up!" Fred shouted across the common room one evening.
The fifth-years all perked up and rushed to the notice board. Harry was scheduled for lunchtime the next day.
"Hey, what d'you want to do?" Angelina asked.
Alicia shrugged. "Modeling, I suppose."
"Joke shop." the twins chorused.
Lee just frowned. "Not sure... Quidditch commentary, maybe reporting... Angelina?"
Angelina huffed. "Quidditch, of course."
The next day, as The Prowlers gathered at the end of the Ravenclaw table together, Sera announced, "Healer. Definitely."
The boys nodded; Sera had always wanted to go into Healing, and she was already an apprentice of Pompfrey's. Cedric sighed, "I'll just follow my father's footsteps like he wants me to. So, I'll join the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures under him. I can play professional Quidditch too, mind."
"I want to be an Auror." Harry hummed. "But Curse-Breaking or Quidditch may be options."
"Same here." Jéricho nodded.
Adrian frowned in thought. "I think I'll go into law. Be a solicitor or something..."
Cedric nodded wisely. "It suits you."
The meeting with McGonagall was short enough.
"So, Mr. Potter, have you thought of what you'd like to do once you graduate?"
Harry gave her the same answer that he gave to his friends. "Being an Auror sounds appealing, for a start. I may play Quidditch professionally if I want in the future; I definitely have an interest in trying. Cure-breaking also sounds like a possible job for me."
McGonagall nodded thoughtfully. "That's quite reasonable. Well, to be an Auror, you need top grades in Potions, Defence against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Charms. No less than 'Exceeds Expectations' in five subjects. A digory in Duelling is also recommended, along with a basic knowledge of Healing. Curse-breaking requires even more than that, with Runes added in. While Arithmancy may also be useful, it's not necessary. And I'd recommend continuing Warding and Spell-Crafting. Looking at your current grades, I'd just tell you to keep it up."
Harry nodded seriously. "Thank you, ma'am. I think I can pull it off, save Healing. I'm pants at it."
McGonagall's lips twitched into a rare smile as she dismissed him.
Charles
Meanwhile, Charles had his own ongoing drama to deal with.
He and Ron had given up asking Hermione how she was managing to attend several classes at once, but they couldn't restrain themselves when they saw the exam schedule she had drawn up for herself. The first column read:
Monday
9 o'clock, Muggle Studies
9 o'clock, Transfiguration
Lunch
1 o'clock, Charms
1 o'clock, Ancient Runes
"Hermione?" Ron said cautiously because she was liable to explode when interrupted these days. "Er - are you sure you've copied down these times right?"
"What?" snapped Hermione, picking up the exam schedule and examining it. "Yes, of course I have."
"Is there any point asking how you're going to sit for two exams at once?" Charles asked.
"No," said Hermione shortly. "Have either of you seen my copy of Numerology and Gramatica?"
"Oh, yeah, I borrowed it for a bit of bedtime reading," said Ron, but very quietly. Hermione started shifting heaps of parchment around on her table, looking for the book. Just then, there was a rustle at the window and Hedwig fluttered through it, a note clutched tightly in her beak.
"It’s from Hagrid," Charles said, ripping the note open. "Buckbeak’s appeal – it’s set for the sixth."
"That’s the day we finish our exams," said Hermione, still looking everywhere for her Arithmancy book.
"And they’re coming up here to do it," Charles said, still reading from the letter. "Someone from the Ministry of Magic and – and an executioner."
Hermione looked up, startled. "They’re bringing the executioner to the appeal! But that sounds as though they’ve already decided!"
"Yeah, it does," Charles said slowly, frowning.
"They can’t!" Ron howled. "I’ve spent ages reading up stuff for him, they can’t just ignore it all!"
But Charles had a horrible feeling that the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures had had its mind made up for it by Mr. Malfoy.
Draco, who had been noticeably subdued since Gryffindor’s triumph in the Quidditch final, seemed to regain some of his old swagger over the next few days. From sneering comments Charles overheard, Malfoy was certain Buckbeak was going to be killed, and seemed thoroughly pleased with himself for bringing it about. It was all Charles could do to stop himself from imitating Hermione and hitting Malfoy in the face on these occasions. At least Lyra seemed to be just as disapproving about this, as she reigned in Malfoy's goading sometimes, to Charles' relief. The worst thing of all was that they had no time or opportunity to go and see Hagrid, because the strict new security measures had not been lifted, and Charles didn’t dare ask for the Invisibility Cloak from Harry.
Exam week began and an unnatural hush fell over the castle. The third-years emerged from Transfiguration at lunchtime on Monday limp and ashen-faced, comparing results and bemoaning the difficulty of the tasks they had been set, which had included turning a teapot into a tortoise. Hermione irritated the rest by fussing about how her tortoise had looked more like a turtle, which was the least of everyone else’s worries.
"Mine still had a spout for a tail, what a nightmare…"
"Were the tortoises supposed to breathe steam?"
"It still had a willow-patterned shell, d’you think that’ll count against me?"
At least, Charles was very pleased by his results, which had turned out to be perfect. He was sure to get full marks in his Transfiguration exam.
Then, after a hasty lunch, it was straight back upstairs for the Charms exam. Hermione had been right; Professor Flitwick did indeed test them on Cheering Charms. Charles slightly overdid his out of nerves and Ron, who was partnering with him, ended up in fits of hysterical laughter and had to be led away to a quiet room for an hour before he was ready to perform the Charm himself. After dinner, the students hurried back to their common rooms, not to relax, but to start revising for Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, and Astronomy.
Lyra
Hagrid presided over the Care of Magical Creatures exam the following morning with a very preoccupied air indeed; his heart didn’t seem to be in it at all. He had provided a large tub of fresh Flobberworms for the class and told them that, to pass the test, their Flobberworm had to still be alive at the end of one hour. As Flobberworms flourished best if left to their own devices, it was the easiest exam any of them had ever sat, and also gave Lyra plenty of opportunity to speak to Hagrid as she stood behind the Golden Trio.
She'd been secretly checking on him to see how he was doing, because whatever she may think about his teaching, she was still his friend and she liked Buckbeak. He was just an innocent Hippogriff, after all.
"Beaky’s gettin’ a bit depressed," Hagrid told the four of them, bending low on the pretense of checking that Ron’s Flobberworm was still alive. "Bin cooped up too long. But still… we’ll know day after tomorrow – one way or the other."
Charles wouldn't meet Lyra's gaze at all. Hadn't since that Potions lesson of theirs earlier in the year when she'd sided with Draco. Still, Lyra spotted relief and confusion on his face as she talked soothingly to Hagrid, and she had to hold in a scoff. What, he thought she was a monster or something, to be happy about Hagrid's miserable state?
They had Potions that afternoon, which went pretty smoothly for Lyra. Then came Astronomy at midnight, up on the tallest tower, which was a breeze; History of Magic on Wednesday morning, which Lyra finished way before the time. Wednesday afternoon meant Herbology in the greenhouses under a baking hot sun; then back to the common room once more, with the backs of their necks sunburnt, thinking longingly of this time next day, when it would all be over.
Their second from the last exam, on Thursday morning, was Defence Against the Dark Arts. Remus had compiled the most unusual exam any of them had ever taken; a sort of obstacle course outside in the sun, where they had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a Grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish their way across a patch of marsh, ignoring the misleading directions from a Hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a new Boggart.
"Excellent, Lyra," Remus muttered, as she climbed out of the trunk, grinning. "Full marks." Flushed with her success, Lyra hung around to watch Blaise and Daphne. Blaise did very well until he reached the Hinkypunk, which successfully confused him into sinking waist-high into the quagmire. Daphne was perfect with no flaw, like Lyra.
They also got to watch Hermione's, who did everything perfectly until she reached the trunk with the Boggart in it. After about a minute inside it, she burst out again, screaming.
"Hermione!" said Remus, startled. "What’s the matter?"
"P-P-Professor McGonagall!" Hermione gasped, pointing into the trunk. "Sh-she said I’d failed everything!"
It took a little while to calm Hermione down.
As Lyra, Blaise, and Daphne went back to the castle with the Golden Trio not trailing much behind, they were stopped by the sight that met them on the top of the steps.
Cornelius Fudge, sweating slightly in his pinstriped cloak, was standing there staring out at the grounds. He started at the sight of the children.
"Hello there, Charles!" he said. "Just had an exam, I expect? Nearly finished?"
"Yes," Charles answered. Hermione and Ron, not being on speaking terms with the Minister of Magic, hovered awkwardly in the background.
"And you too, Lyra! Daphne!"
"It would be Miss Black and Miss Greengrass to you, Minister Fudge." Lyra coolly replied.
Fudge gulped and seemed uncomfortable for a minute before smiling again. He cast an eye over the lake. "Lovely day... Pity... pity..."
He sighed deeply and looked down at Charles, taking his eyes off the others.
"I'm here on an unpleasant mission. The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures required a witness to the execution of a mad hippogriff. As I needed to visit Hogwarts to check on the Black situation, I was asked to step in."
"Does that mean the appeal's already happened?" Ron interrupted, stepping forward.
"No, no, it's scheduled for this afternoon," said Fudge, looking curiously at Ron.
"Then you might not have to witness an execution," Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Have you even considered that the hippogriff might get off, Minister?"
Before Fudge could answer, two wizards came through the castle doors behind him. One was so ancient he appeared to be withering before their very eyes; the other was tall and strapping, with a thin back mustache. Lyra gathered that they were representatives of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, because tie very old wizard squinted toward Hagrid's cabin and said in a feeble voice, "Dear, dear, I'm getting too old for this... Two o'clock, isn't it, Fudge?"
The black-mustached man was fingering something in his belt; Lyra looked and saw that he was running one broad thumb along the blade of a shining axe. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Lyra nudged him hard in the ribs and jerked her head toward the entrance hall.
"Why'd you stop me?" said Ron angrily as they entered the Great Hall for lunch. "Did you see them? They've even got the axe ready! This isn't justice!"
"Ron, your dad works for the Ministry, you can't go saying things like that to his boss!" said Hermione, but she too looked very upset. "As long as Hagrid keeps his head this time, and argues his case properly, they can't possibly execute Buckbeak...."
But Lyra could tell Hermione didn't really believe what she was saying.
She tried to shake off the strange feeling that something bad was going to happen tonight.
Charles
All around them, people were talking excitedly as they ate their lunch, happily anticipating the end of the exams that afternoon, but Charles, Ron, and Hermione, lost in worry about Hagrid and Buckbeak, didn't join in.
Charles' and Ron' last exam was Divination; Hermione's, Ancient Studies. They walked up the marble staircase together; Hermione left them on the first floor and Charles and Ron proceeded all the way up to the seventh, where many of their class were sitting on the spiral staircase to Professor Trelawney's classroom, trying to cram in a bit of last-minute studying.
"She's seeing us all separately," Neville informed them as they went to sit down next to him. He had his copy of Unfogging the Future open on his lap at the pages devoted to crystal gazing. "Have either of you ever seen anything in a crystal ball?" he asked them unhappily.
"Nope," said Ron in an offhand voice. He kept checking his watch; Charles knew that he was counting down the time until Buckbeak's appeal started.
The line of people outside the classroom shortened very slowly. As each person climbed back down the silver ladder, the rest of the class hissed, "What did she ask? Was it okay?"
But they all refused to say.
"She says the crystal ball's told her that if I tell you, I'll have a horrible accident!" squeaked Neville as he clambered back down the ladder toward Charles and Ron, who had now reached the landing.
"That's convenient," snorted Ron. "You know, I'm starting to think Hermione was right about her" - he jabbed his thumb toward the trapdoor overhead - "she's a right old fraud."
"Yeah," Charles agreed, looking at his own watch. It was now two o'clock. "Wish she'd hurry up..."
Parvati came back down the ladder glowing with pride. "She says I've got all the makings of a true Seer," she informed Charles and Ron. "I saw loads of stuff... Well, good luck!"
She hurried off down the spiral staircase toward Lavender.
"Ronald Weasley," said the familiar, misty voice from over their heads. Ron grimaced at Charles and climbed the silver ladder out of sight. Charles was now the only person left to be tested. He settled himself on the floor with his back against the wall, listening to a fly buzzing in the sunny window, his mind across the grounds with Hagrid.
Finally, after about twenty minutes, Ron's large feet reappeared on the ladder.
"How'd it go?" Charles asked him, standing up.
"Rubbish," said Ron. "Couldn't see a thing, so I made some stuff up. Don't think she was convinced, though..."
"Meet you in the common room," Charles muttered as Professor Trelawney's voice called, "Charles Potter!"
The tower room was hotter than ever before; the curtains were closed, the fire was alight, and the usual sickly scent made Charles cough as he stumbled through the clutter of chairs and table to where Professor Trelawney sat waiting for him before a large crystal ball.
"Good day, my dear," she said softly. "If you would kindly gaze into the Orb... Take your time, now... then tell me what you see within it...."
Charles bent over the crystal ball and stared, stared as hard as he could, willing it to show him something other than swirling white fog, but nothing happened.
"Well?" Professor Trelawney prompted delicately. "What do you see?"
The heat was overpowering and his nostrils were stinging with the perfumed smoke wafting from the fire beside them. He thought of what Ron had just said, and decided to pretend.
"Er -" Charles stuttered, "a dark shape... um..."
"What does it resemble?" whispered Professor Trelawney. "Think, now..."
Charles cast his mind around and it landed on Buckbeak. "A hippogriff," he said firmly.
"Indeed!" whispered Professor Trelawney, scribbling keenly on the parchment perched upon her knees. "My boy, you may well be seeing the outcome of poor Hagrid's trouble with the Ministry of Magic! Look closer... Does the hippogriff appear to... have its head?"
"Yes," Charles said firmly.
"Are you sure?" Professor Trelawney urged him. "Are you quite sure, dear? You don't see it writhing on the ground, perhaps, and a shadowy figure raising an axe behind it?"
"No!" Charles insisted, starting to feel slightly sick.
"No blood? No weeping Hagrid?"
"No!" said Charles again, wanting more than ever to leave the room and the heat. "It looks fine, it's - flying away..."
Professor Trelawney sighed. "Well, dear, I think we'll leave it there... A little disappointing... but I'm sure you did your best."
Relieved, Charles got up, picked up his bag, and turned to go, but then a loud, harsh voice spoke behind him.
"IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT."
Charles wheeled around. Professor Trelawney had gone rigid in her armchair; her eyes were unfocused and her mouth sagging.
"S - sorry?"
But Professor Trelawney didn't seem to hear him. Her eyes started to roll. Charles sat there in a panic. She looked as though she was about to have some sort of seizure. He hesitated, thinking of running to the hospital wing - and then Professor Trelawney spoke again, in the same harsh voice, quite unlike her own:
"THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT... THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT'S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT... BEFORE MIDNIGHT... THE SERVANT... WILL SET OUT... TO REJOIN... HIS MASTER..."
Professor Trelawney's head fell forward onto her chest. She made a grunting sort of noise. Charles sat there, staring at her. Then, quite suddenly, Professor Trelawney's head snapped up again.
"I'm so sorry, dear boy," she said dreamily, "the heat of the day, you know... I drifted off for a moment..."
Charles sat there, staring at her. "Is there anything wrong, my dear?"
"You - you just told me that the - the Dark Lord's going to rise again... that his servant's going to go back to him."
Professor Trelawney looked thoroughly startled. "The Dark Lord? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? My dear boy, that's hardly something to joke about... Rise again, indeed -"
"But you just said it! You said the Dark Lord-"
"I think you must have dozed off too, dear!" said Professor Trelawney. "I would certainly not presume to predict anything quite as far-fetched as that!"
Charles climbed back down the ladder and the spiral staircase, wondering... had he just heard Professor Trelawney make a real prediction? Or had that been her idea of an impressive end to the test?
Five minutes later he was dashing past the security trolls outside the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, Professor Trelawney's words still resounding in his head. People were striding past him in the opposite direction, laughing and joking, heading for the grounds and a bit of long-awaited freedom; by the time he had reached the portrait hole and entered the common room, it was almost deserted. Over in the corner, however, sat Ron and Hermione.
"Professor Trelawney," Charles panted, "just told me-"
But he stopped abruptly at the sight of their faces.
"Buckbeak lost," said Ron weakly. "Hagrid's just sent this."
Hagrid's note was dry this time, no tears had splattered it, yet his hand seemed to have shaken so much as he wrote that it was hardly legible.
Lost appeal. They're going to execute at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don't come down. I don't want you to see it.
Hagrid
"We've got to go," Charles said at once. "He can't just sit there on his own, waiting for the executioner!"
"Sunset, though," said Ron, who was staring out the window ill a glazed sort of way. "We'd never be allowed... 'specially you, Charles..."
Charles sank his head into his hands, thinking. "If we only had the Invisibility Cloak..."
"D'you have the map, Charles?" Hermione abruptly asked.
Charles, slightly confused, nodded and reached into his pocket, taking out the piece of yellow parchment and handing it to her. "Why-?"
Hermione didn't wait for the rest of his sentence; she strode across the room and up the stairs, in the direction of the boys' dormitory, and vanished from sight.
"She hasn't gone to get it?" Ron said, staring after her.
She had. Hermione returned sometime later with the silvery cloak folded carefully under her robes. "Harry's dorm was empty, I checked-"
"Hermione, I don't know what's gotten into you lately!" said Ron, astounded. "First you hit Malfoy, then you walk out on Professor Trelawney-"
Hermione looked rather flattered.
They went down to dinner with everybody else, but did not return to Gryffindor Tower afterward. Charles had the cloak hidden down the front of his robes; he had to keep his arms folded to hide the lump. They skulked in an empty chamber off the entrance hall, listening, until they were sure it was deserted. They heard a last pair of people hurrying across the hall and a door slamming. Hermione poked her head around the door.
"Okay," she whispered, "no one there - cloak on -"
Walking very close together so that nobody would see them, they crossed the hall on tiptoe beneath the cloak, then walked down the stone front steps into the grounds. The sun was already sinking behind the Forbidden Forest, gilding the top branches of the trees.
They reached Hagrid's cabin and knocked. He was a minute in answering, and when he did, he looked all around for his visitor, pale-faced and trembling.
"It's us," Charles hissed. "We're wearing the Cloak. Let us in and we can take it off."
"Yeh shouldn've come!" Hagrid whispered, but he stood back, and they stepped inside. Hagrid shut the door quickly and Charles pulled off the cloak.
Hagrid was not crying, nor did he throw himself upon their necks. He looked like a man who did not know where he was or what to do. This helplessness was worse to watch than tears.
"Wan' some tea?" he said. His great hands were shaking as he reached for the kettle.
That's when they noticed the other people there. "Harry!"
"Charles!"
"What are you doing here?" Charles asked.
"Shouldn't I be the one asking that?" Harry scowled. "You bloody stole my cloak again!"
"Don't you ward your bed?" Adrian frowned.
Harry heaved a great sigh. "I do, but I had to take it off... was going to do it tonight..."
Suddenly, Harry's head snapped up as his mouth curved in a snarl, his eyes flashing with rage. Charles' eyes widened; Harry had never really been angry at Charles was taking his cloak, sure he'd been irritated and frustrated, but never angry...
"Now you listen here, Charles Sirius," Harry growled, "I'm writing to Mum about this habit of yours. I give up my favorite Quidditch position for you, lie and make excuses for you, spend my money on you, save you from bloody cursed diaries, and this is how you repay me? Stealing my cloak time and again?" he scoffed. "Way to be grateful, brother."
Charles recoiled as if he'd been struck, a hot wave of shame hitting him as he realized that everything Harry had just said was true. Harry took a deep breath to compose himself before dropping his head in his hands and sighed.
Sera rubbed his arm as she gave Charles a sheepish look. "Don't mind him, he's just very stressed lately."
"What are you doing here?" Jéricho asked.
Hermione answered. "Supporting Hagrid. You know, with Buckbeak..."
Cedric nodded. "Same here. We were busy with OWLs and all and couldn't really help Hagrid with the appeal, but he told us you've been helping him instead, so thank you for that. We came here to support him, too."
"How'd you sneak out here at this time?" Ron asked bemused.
Adrian grinned. "The benefit of being an OWL student with prefects and model students as your best friends."
"Where's Buckbeak, Hagrid?" Hermione asked hesitantly.
"I - I took him outside," said Hagrid. "He's tethered in me pumpkin patch. Thought he oughta see the trees an' - an' smell fresh air -"
"Isn't there anything anyone can do, Hagrid?" Harry asked fiercely. "Dumbledore -"
"He's tried," said Hagrid. "He's got no power ter overrule the Committee. He told 'em Buckbeak's all right, but they're scared.... Yeh know what Lucius Malfoy's like... threatened 'em, I expect... an' the executioner, Macnair, he's an old pal o' Malfoy's... but it'll be quick an' clean... an' I'll be beside him.... "
Hagrid swallowed. His eyes were darting all over the cabin as though looking for some shred of hope or comfort.
"Dumbledore's gonna come down while it - while it happens. Wrote me this mornin'. Said he wants ter - ter be with me. Great man, Dumbledore..."
Hermione let out a small, quickly stifled sob, fighting back tears.
"We'll stay with you too, Hagrid," she began, but Hagrid shook his shaggy head.
"Yeh're ter go back up ter the castle. I told yeh, I don' wan' yeh watchin'. An' yeh shouldn' be down here anyway... If Fudge an' Dumbledore catch yeh out without permission, Charles, yeh'll be in big trouble."
Silent tears were now streaming down Hermione's face, but she hid them from Hagrid. Then, as she picked up a milk bottle, she let out a shriek. "Ron, I don't believe it - it's Scabbers!"
Ron gaped at her. "What are you talking about?"
Hermione carried the milk jug over to the table and turned it upside down. With a frantic squeak, and much scrambling to get back inside, Scabbers the rat came sliding out onto the table.
"Scabbers!" said Ron blankly. "Scabbers, what are you doing here?" He grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light. Scabbers looked dreadful. He was thinner than ever, large tufts of hair had fallen out leaving wide bald patches, and he writhed in Ron's hands as though desperate to free himself
"It's okay, Scabbers!" said Ron. "No cats! There's nothing here to hurt you!"
Hagrid suddenly stood up, his eyes fixed on the window. His normally ruddy face had gone the color of parchment.
"They're comin'..."
They all whipped around. A group of men was walking down the distant castle steps. In front was Albus Dumbledore, his silver beard gleaming in the dying sun. Next to him trotted Cornelius Fudge. Behind them came the feeble old Committee member and the executioner, Macnair.
"Yeh gotta go," said Hagrid. Every inch of him was trembling. "They mustn' find yeh here... Go now..."
Ron stuffed Scabbers into his pocket and Hermione picked up the cloak. "I'll let yeh out the back way," said Hagrid.
They followed him to the door into his back garden. Charles felt strangely unreal, and even more so when he saw Buckbeak a few yards away, tethered to a tree behind Hagrid's Pumpkin patch. Buckbeak seemed to know something was happening. He turned his sharp head from side to side and pawed the ground nervously.
"It's okay, Beaky," said Hagrid softly. "It's okay..." He turned to the others. "Go on," he said. "Get goin'."
The elder ones nodded at once, but the younger trio didn't move.
"Hagrid, we can't --"
"We'll tell them what really happened -"
"They can't kill him -"
"Go!" said Hagrid fiercely. "It's bad enough without you lot in trouble an' all!"
They had no choice. As Hermione threw the cloak over Charles and Ron, they heard voices at the front of the cabin. The elder group all disillusioned themselves.
Hagrid looked at the place where they had just vanished from sight. "Go quick," he said hoarsely. "Don' listen...." And he strode back into his cabin as someone knocked at the front door.
Slowly, in a kind of horrified trance, the eight students set off silently around Hagrid's house. As they reached the other side, the front door closed with a sharp snap.
"Please, let's hurry," Hermione whispered. "I can't stand it, I can't bear it..."
They started up the sloping lawn toward the castle. The sun was sinking fast now; the sky had turned to a clear, purple-tinged grey, but to the west, there was a ruby-red glow.
Ron stopped dead. "Oh, please, Ron," Hermione began.
"It's Scabbers -- he won't -- stay put --"
Ron was bent over, trying to keep Scabbers in his pocket, but the rat was going berserk; squeaking madly, twisting and flailing, trying to sink his teeth into Ron's hand.
"Scabbers, it's me, you idiot, it's Ron," Ron hissed. They heard a door open behind them and men's voices.
"Oh, Ron, please let's move, they're going to do it!" Hermione breathed. Charles looked ahead and sensed the older group stop as they sensed something wrong.
"Okay -- Scabbers, stay put --"
They walked forward; Charles, like Hermione, was trying not to listen to the rumble of voices behind them. Ron stopped again.
"I can't hold him -- Scabbers, shut up, everyone'll hear us --"
The rat was squealing wildly, but not loudly enough to cover up the sounds drifting from Hagrid's garden. There was a jumble of indistinct male voices, a silence, and then, without warning, the unmistakable swish and thud of an axe.
Hermione swayed on the spot.
"They did it!" Sera's horrified whisper sounded. "I d-don't believe it - they did it!"