Heron

“Did she get attacked?” 

“I told you no muggleborn is safe, she trusted Harry, and once the whole school was gone, he struck.” 

“I tried to see it with my own eyes, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t even let me.” 

“Must be an ugly picture.” 

“ I went, and I heard her speak with Madam Pomfrey.” 

“So why is she forbidding us from seeing her?” 

The corridors were filled with rumors and conspiracies, each more complicated than the last. Fred and George, who were the only pillars keeping Harry from getting crushed by the nasty looks sent his way, were trying everything in their power to deflect any negative criticisms, though their methods were unorthodox.  

“Make way for the heir. Make way, if you don’t want to end up a statue to decorate the gardens.” 

Terry was no longer the only Ravenclaw who had strong doubts against Harry. Even after it was officially said that Hermione was not a victim of the attacks, he still couldn’t help but glare in both disgust and fear towards the Gryffindor. In the meantime, Silas and Caspian were both preoccupied with Quidditch practice and so didn’t have enough time to argue about the matter, but during breakfast they would spend a minute or two. 

--- 

“Look, the tips of my fingers. They’re so red.” Caspian showed some of his fellow Ravenclaws. 

“I bet mine are colder.” Silas sneaked up and placed his freezing hands down the boy’s shirt. 

Unfortunately for Padma who was observing Caspian’s hands, his flinch caused him to poke her in the eye. 

“Oh, oh, oh, I’m so sorry.” both Caspian and Silas apologized. 

“It’s - ow – fine.” she tried to blink quickly but her eye kept closing. “May-maybe I should go check in the hospital wing.” 

“Yes, yes. We’ll come with you.” 

“There’s no need.” 

“I insist.” said Silas. 

“Miss Patil, what’s wrong?” Madam Pomfrey asked, but she was busy with something and didn’t stop moving around the room. 

“Someone accidentally poked me in the eye.” Padma was holding onto her eye, her voice in pain. 

“Let me see.” the witch approached the girl. “Oh, my.” she went to a nearby cabinet and started rummaging through different herbs and medicine. 

Silas felt an elbow hit his ribs. “What are you standing around for? Check on Granger.” the girl said completely fine. 

Silas looked towards Madam Pomfrey who was still searching for something and walked as lightly as he could on the wooden floor, hoping none of the planks would give him away. Luckily, the curtains that guarded Hermione’s bed were ever so slightly split and he managed to catch a peek. He had to hold his mouth shut, as the image of Hermione with cat features was indeed quite the shock. 

“What are you doing there, Mr. Nightingale?” Madam Pomfrey’s voice startled him. 

“I just wanted to see how the students who were petrified were doing.” 

“They’re not creatures in a museum for you to marvel at. Leave them alone. Here, Miss Patil.” she gave the girl an odd orange pill in the shape of a triangle. 

“Oh, much better. Thank you so much, Madam.” Padma bowed and signaled Silas to get close. “So, what was it? A missing eye? An arm? Perhaps she is petrified and they’re just trying to hide it to not make any scenes?” 

“What if I told you she was a cat?” 

“Hah, yeah right. If you didn’t manage to see her, just say so.” 

Silas decided to remain quiet. 

---  

It was a truly boring experience. The room’s smell reminded Hermione of her parents’ office; not in the scent itself, but in the feeling it brought. She was grateful that both her friends visited every day and she immersed herself in studying, but once it got dark and Madam Pomfrey finished checking up on her, there was no one to keep her company besides the rhythmic ticks of the clock. She would lie in the cold white sheets and stare at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts of how any moment she or any other student could get attacked. Frustration slowly built inside. She wanted to help and look for clues that could possibly lead to the one behind all this. A sudden ripple in the covers made her heart start racing. She looked frantically for her wand, remembering she placed it under her pillow along with the get-well card she’d received from Lockhart.  

“Gran-” Orion peeled the curtains. Whatever he was expecting was not Hermione with fur and whiskers. 

They both looked at each other. Hermione sighed a breath of relief, calm that she wasn’t in danger, but once she realized the situation she was in, her heart began speeding back up from embarrassment. She was just about to tell the boy not to look and get away, when he crouched, his right hand covering his face.  

He was giggling.  

It was the first time Hermione had seen him show such strong positive emotion. She was bewildered. In his left hand she noticed he was carrying a thick book, but she couldn’t see the title. 

“Forget it.” Orion said, pulling the curtains back to how they were. 

Hermione didn’t sleep a wink. 

---  

The blue stone occasionally switched its color. Orion had finally managed to figure out what enchantment had been used on the ring, but to his surprise it was a spell that comforted the wearer, doing so in a different manner compared to what Dumbledore had tried. Orion couldn’t explain it properly, but instead of making him forget, it made him accept. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that, so he kept it in the cabinet next to his bed. He decided not to visit Hermione again until she was finally in a better condition, trying to distract himself with anything he could, though every time he remembered Hermione’s brown cat eyes, he couldn’t help but let out a smile at the very least. It was so ridiculously absurd for him. 

As the weeks went by, the sun slowly began shining on Hogwarts again. With the change in scenery and the lack of any new victims, the students began to believe that whatever caused the incidents was gone, though not all shared such optimisms. It wasn’t until the end of January that Orion saw Hermione again, they met in the library, where they usually shared most of their encounters. Hermione instantly turned red, and likewise Orion had to contain himself from giggling again. 

“It’s not funny.” she said, seeing his reaction. 

“No, no, ahem... of course not. Pfft.”  

Hermione would have argued a lot more with the boy, were it not for the warmth she felt every time she saw him laugh. It was nice to know that he had become what every student was supposed to be, or at least partly; he still rarely spoke to people and looked gloomy in class, spending most his time in the library or by the lake.  

“By the way,” Orion said to Hermione’s surprise, “here.” he handed her the same book she’d noticed him carrying the night he visited her in the hospital wing. 

The book was bound in old, weathered leather, the letters on the front long washed away, only smidges of the supposed gold ink remaining. She took the book with great interest, turning the cover, the leather crunching, and the thin paper pages creating a sound as though satisfied they are finally getting some sun.  

“Try not to show it to Madam Pince.” Orion said. 

“Why?” Hermione asked though she couldn’t lift her head, as it was impulsively buried in the book. She didn’t have to wait for an answer; the first page that held the title “ Beasts of the Dark, the Ancient and the Dead” revealed that this was a book not meant for every student to read. “Where did you get this?” she knew fully well, but asked nonetheless. 

“Restricted Section. Christmas.” he said. “Penelope told me you’re both trying to find what the monster might be.” 

“Yeah...” Hermione said, her mind now completely focused on the book. 

---  

Two weeks into February during breakfast, Lockhart barged into the Grand Hall dressed in the pinkest pink that ever existed, a white rose stuck in his hat. The room was also decorated as if in his image, heart-shaped confetti falling from the pure white clouds on the ceiling (that had nothing to do with the otherwise grey ones outside). The white wax on the candles was replaced with pink and red, and the walls were decorated with so many flowers, one would feel bad thinking of the number that were cut. 

The Dark Arts professor sat at the teacher’s table, most happy with himself. He kept glancing at the students, waving and sending kisses. 

“Creep.” said Terry. 

“Creep.” confirmed Silas. “Seems he’s eager to say something.” 

“He’s probably waiting for more students to gather.” guessed Caspian. 

Both of them were right, Lockhart was playing with a glass, carefully observing the number of students and once he deemed enough had gathered, which coincidentally was also the time at which Harry entered, he tapped the glass and stood up, trying to get the room to quiet down. 

“Look at McGonagall and Snape, they want to kill him.” Silas whispered. 

“I hope they do.” 

“Happy Valentine’s Day! And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all – and it doesn’t end here!” he clapped twice in quick and dramatic fashion and the large doors opened, inviting a dozen grumpy dwarves that were dressed in white robes and had golden wings and harps. The contrast between their dark beards and eyes, and the angel-like attire reminded Orion of the trolls wearing tutus in the portrait near the Room of Requirement. 

“Wot’re you lookin’ at?” one of the dwarves taunted a first-year Hufflepuff student. 

“My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” Lockhart continued. “They will be roving around the school today delivering your Valentines! And the fun doesn’t stop here!” he looked to his left and right, “I’m sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you’re at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly old dog!” 

“Go on, Snape, he’s right there, just like in the Dueling Club...” the Ravenclaw trio hoped that the furious-looking Potions master was going to end this parade. 

“Well, that is all from me! I hope you have a lovely day.” Lockhart sat back down pleased with himself. 

--- 

“Can’t wait to ask the ‘ sly old dog’ about Entrancing Enchantments.” Silas said on their way to Charms. 

Just as they began their ascent up the staircase, they noticed Harry being tugged by one of the majestic cupids. 

“Oi, I’ve got a musical message to deliver.” 

“Not here.” Harry tried to reason, all red. 

“Stay still!” the dwarf only pulled the boy closer by the bag. 

“LET - ME...” 

There was a disturbing sound from Harry’s bag getting ripped open. All of his belongings: ink, parchment, books, quill dropped on the steps, some of the items rolling down, chased by the ink. Harry frantically bent down, trying to grab everything, but was not quick enough, so a line was formed, and commotion stirred. 

“What’s going on here?” Draco called, surrounded by his Slytherin housemates.  

Harry only started digging quicker through the pile of stationery.  

“What’s all this commotion?” Percy also called, this time from the opposite direction. 

Right next to him was Penelope Clearwater who tried to restore as much order as she could while the Gryffindor prefect tried to sort out the issue. 

“Oh, no, you don’t.” the dwarf grabbed Harry, who was trying to escape this two-sided ambush, by the legs, knocked him down, then sat on his ankles. With a grating throat clear, he began reciting the song: 

“ His eyes are as green as afresh pickled toad,  

His hair is as dark as a blank blackboard.  

I wish he was mine, he’s really divine,  

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord!” (A/N: added “blank”, because rhythm felt off)  

Very few students didn’t laugh, the victim of this public shaming also letting out a nervous chuckle to try and blend in. 

“Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class.” Percy tried to order everyone away. 

“Silas, Caspian, Terry, Orion, cmon, you should be in class.” Penelope said kindly in contrast to her Weasley counterpart. 

“Class is that way, though.” Silas pointed in the direction of Harry and Malfoy, who were now arguing over a diary. 

“As a Prefect-” ( A/N: ) began Percy, but it was already too late, as Harry had cast a spell Malfoy’s way. “No magic in the corridors! I’ll have to report this, you know, Potter.” 

Harry picked up the black diary, that he’d so expertly made Draco drop, off the ground, happy with the fact he’d at least somewhat succeeded in not being the only one humiliated, but the next words that came out the Slytherin boy’s mouth, that weren’t even directed towards him, but rather Ginny, who was watching from nearby, sent shivers down his spine. 

“I don’t think Potter liked your Valentine very much.” 

“Oh, you...” Ron pulled out his wand, ready to cast whatever came to his mind first, but Harry quickly stopped him, preventing him from making himself puke any more slugs. 

“Let’s go.” said Harry, brushing shoulders with Draco as he passed him. 

“And what are you staring at?” Draco said to the Ravenclaw group who were the only second-years not in class yet. 

What was on Orion’s mind was that black book Harry was so opposed to letting Malfoy read. It couldn’t be his own diary; no way Harry would have one. Ginny had also looked at it terrified. Something didn’t add up. 

---  

“No, Mr. Weasley, you cannot attempt this, not with that wand. And how many times must I remind you to get a new one?” McGonagall loomed over the ginger boy, making sure she didn’t have to deal with any chaos that he might induce. 

“What’s that diary that Harry’s carrying?” Orion had sat next to Hermione just so he could ask this question. 

“I don’t know.” though Hermione didn’t like to lie, this was only a partial one, as they had yet to figure out what the diary was. 

Orion, however, noticed Hermione wasn’t being entirely honest, so decided to pursue the matter, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Whose is it?” 

“.... Tom Riddle’s.” Hermione said after a moment of hesitation. “Have you – have you heard of him?” she asked sheepishly. She was hoping Orion would know the name with him being the only other student who read as much as her. 

Orion thought about it for a moment, the name seemed familiar, though he couldn’t remember where he had heard it from, so he just shook his head. 

McGonagall passed by and was about to scold them, but realized she was looking at two of the most capable students, who had both already completed the task so instead she just gave them a stern look to be quiet. 

---  

With the snow all but thawed out, and the snowdrops past their blooming season, students began slipping out of the castle more, cheerful chatter wafting through the schoolgrounds. Silas and Terry still complained that they were freezing every time they had practice, but even they found themselves going out for fresh air. 

Surprisingly, Dumbledore had let another of Lockhart’s ideas through and an event was organized for mid-April where students could partake in various activities related to every subject. Apparently, even Snape was going to host one, though there were barely any students who had signed up for it. Amongst them, the only second-years were Hermione – who had signed up for everything, and Silas. Lockhart’s list consisted of mainly girls; Professor Sprout’s - of Hufflepuffs, though Neville Longbottom was first on the list; a surprising number of students had also signed up for Mrs. Sinistra event which took place midnight, much like her once-a-week classes. Flitwick had organized several competitions, a few for every year of students, so that it was all fair. Many of the people looking at the announcement were unhappy to see only fifth-years and above could participate in the dueling competition. Even those who didn’t want to compete had something to do, as Professor Kettleburn was planning to display some bizarre creatures not shown in the curriculum. There were other events for every class, with the only name missing being Binns’, but hardly anybody cared. 

“What do you mean ‘unfair’?” Terry said with a dash of insult in his voice, “If it wasn’t for Lockhart of all people, Quidditch would be the only event for the whole year!” 

“All I’m saying is I’m surprised there aren’t any flying competitions.” Silas said, Caspian nodding his head in agreement beside him. 

“Not that you two would do any good.” Emer emerged from somewhere. “You totally have to come check out the dueling competition, I’ve already placed a bet with the Weasley twins, and...” she lowered her voice, “I’d say it’s a safe bet on me.” 

“But aren’t they fourth-years?” Silas asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Who said I’m dueling them? No, that would be too easy of a bet, I’m dueling Flint.” 

“And they bet against you???” Silas was shocked to hear that. 

“Isn’t it unfair to place a bet if you’re participating in the duel.” Terry asked the logical question. 

“Not when they’re betting on me losing.” 

“THEY’RE BET-” Silas again tried to exclaim, but Emer silenced him. 

“Shhhh, it’s not like we’re allowed to bet. We haven’t spoken about this, you understand?” 

“Spoken about what?” Caspian said smugly. 

--- 

Snape looked over Silas’s cauldron. The Potion brewing competition was the first event on the schedule, most likely because Snape wanted to get it over with as soon as possible; Hermione had just earned Gryffindor fifteen points for her perfectly brewed Aquoculus potion, which though it only helped people see clearly in the water, was particularly tricky to make, so the boy was nervous whether he would get the same result for his concoction. Snape leaned closely, dipped a ladle and brought some of the murky-green mixture up to eye level. He placed the liquid back and looked over at Silas; Snape never looked at anyone with positivity, so you could never expect any praise from him, but having just been awarded twenty points, Silas was glad enough. 

“I see all that reading has paid off.” Silas’s achievement was praised by both his friends. 

“All those forty-page essays also helped. I managed to even beat Granger in terms of points gained.” 

“Did that matter, though? Slytherin still earned a hundred and fifty combined.” said Caspian, glancing over towards a group of Slytherins who were celebrating with the students that competed. 

“You can’t take his bias away it seems.” Terry shrugged. 

“Yeah, Flitwick on the other hand -” Silas said, opening the doors to the Grand Hall where once again the stage was placed just like during the Dueling Club. 

“... and so I want you to – ah, some new – what are you boys doing here? Only fifth-years and above.” Flitwick turned to the second-years. 

“We just wanted to watch, sir.” 

“Ah, an audience! I hadn’t considered that; I thought most students would be participating in the other events. Come join us then, no worries. Now, as I was saying - but actually, as I have been reminded by the gentlemen who just entered, I heard of the accidents that occurred while Professor Lockhart was trying to hold the meeting for the Dueling club, so I warn you all now – only the basic offensive charms and defensive ones, I don’t want to have to give Madam Pomfrey any more work. The winner is decided once one side is no longer able to keep dueling or if they surrender.” 

“Will you be giving us a demonstration, professor?” asked an older Ravenclaw student. 

“Oh, no, no, I’m far past that...” Flitwick tried to brush off. 

“Aww, cmon, a quick one.” a few more students tried to urge on the Charms professor. 

“Oh, if you insist.” Flitwick said, trying to sound as though he was forced, but everyone could see he wanted to have a go himself. “Dorian, if you would, please.” 

“Of course, professor.” the Ravenclaw bowed and stepped up onto the stage. 

“You have all been taught the standard process, but for anyone who might’ve forgotten it: we first bow, then on the count of three – cast our spells. Ready, Dorian?” 

“Yes, sir.” Dorian bowed again and prepared to cast. 

After a student counted down from three, as she was asked by the short teacher, both he and Dorian cast instantaneously.  

It was completely different than what had gone down in the Dueling Club. Both participants were casting with extreme speed, their spells clashing halfway through. Flurries of the whole spectrum of colors; incantations Caspian, Silas and Terry didn’t recognize; wand movements they didn’t think possible to be cast in such short time; it was all too magnificent, and they finally realized what fueled the Charms professor’s love for the subject. 

It was evident that whoever let go of the attack first and took the defensive approach would eventually lose. Dorian held up surprisingly long, but in the end was no match for the Dueling Champion himself, as after a minute Flitwick managed to cast two spells in quick succession, catching the seventh-year off guard. 

Though Dorian was defeated, he was still commended for the valiant attempt by the professor himself. 

“Right then, enough from me, it’s your time to shine. Let’s see...” he looked at a list. “Mr. Ironjade and Mr. Gough, you’re up first.” 

A Gryffindor and Hufflepuff boys got up onto the stage; they said something to one another and both giggled; this reminded Silas of his friendship with the two other boys and he imagined how one day perhaps they could be dueling on a stage in an event such as this one. Caspian and Terry seemed to be thinking the same thing, as they exchanged a particular look. In comparison to the previous spectacle, this duel seemed dull, which was understandable; topping that would be a hard task. 

After a few more rounds had gone by, the name the boys had specifically come for was finally called. While Emer’s friends were urging her on in a friendly and warm manner, Flint’s supporters let out something resembling a deep goblin chant. After the countdown, the differences in style only increased: Emer was swift and elegant (to Silas and Caspian’s dismay; she was always a brute during practice), while Flint was just as brutal and rough with a wand as he was with a broom. Of all the spells that had been displayed so far none bordered the legality line as much as Flint’s, and though Flitwick was paying close attention, he didn’t have to interrupt. The longer the fight went on, the more frustrated Flint got. Once his tenth attempt at trying to use the Banishment charm was blocked, something snapped. Everyone could see that he was about to use something much more powerful, but that only meant that his intentions were telegraphed to Emer just as well. As he began his wide swing, she finally let go of the defense and successfully disarmed him, causing a roar of applause from everybody watching. 

“Phew.” she brushed the sweat she’d built up during the duel. “Now, to find those two weasels.” she went out of the room, the Ravenclaw trio following her. 

“Cough it up.” Emer stretched her hand out. 

The Weasley twins looked at her suspiciously. 

“I hope you don’t still think Flint is a better duelist than me.”  

“Ok, ok.” the gingers pulled out a large bag with coins in it and handed a small portion to her. 

“What’s this?!” Emer said in surprise. 

“I hope you don’t think you’re the only one we placed a bet with.” Fred revealed their sly scheme. 

“We had all sorts of bets: whether you’d bet against us...” continued George. 

“...who would have more supporters...” (Fred) 

“...how long the duel was going to last...” (George) 

“... Two minutes and forty-three seconds!” (Fred) 

“That’s amazing!” they both said and grinned at the Ravenclaw, who they had, in an ironic turn of events, outsmarted. They were satisfied with the profit they had made it seemed, so their low bet with Emer hadn’t caused any long-lasting financial damage. 

“I can’t believe they would use my good heart against me! Weasels the both of them!” Emer stomped. 

“What do you mean?” Terry asked. 

“I was originally going to bet ten galleons, but you know... with their financial state and all...” Emer tried not to insult them by accident. 

---  

“Mind yer fingers now, that there might seem tiny, but it's got a bite that'll surprise ya if ya ain't careful. Heh.” said Hagrid who was helping Kettleburn with his exhibition. “Well, if it ain't Harry, Hermione an’ Ron! What brings yeh here, then?” 

“We just wanted to check the beasts.” said Harry. ‘ It can’t be him. It can’t be him. It can’t be him.’ he kept repeating in his head, furious at himself for having doubts. Over a month ago, he’d finally found the secret of the diary which revealed a memory of Tom Riddle’s where he exposed Hagrid as the culprit who opened the Chamber of Secrets. And yet there he was – cheerful as always, helping students just like every other day. Harry’s only argument for Hagrid’s innocence was the fact Dumbledore trusted him enough to hire him, but this was easily argued by a voice Harry was desperately trying to suppress which was saying he had also trusted Quirrell.  

“Could you tell us a bit more about this one?” Hermione was pointing towards an arachnid.  

She was hoping to get a reaction out of the giant, but he continued like nothing had happened. “Ah, now you're talkin' about the elusive Flitterweb Spinners, ain't ya? Well, let me tell ya, those little buggers are a sight to behold! See, they ain't like your regular spiders, oh no. Flitterwebs, they spin webs that shimmer like the stars on a clear night. But here's the twist - those webs ain't just for catchin' flies. No, no, they use 'em for all sorts o' mischief.” he spoke quickly, chuckling between sentences, poking the little spider as if it was his dog Fang. “They're quick as lightning, they are, dartin' about on their tiny legs, leavin' behind trails of sparkling silk wherever they go. And they've got a knack for illusions, too. You might think you're seein' one thing, but it's just a trick of their web. Can’t tell ya how many times I’ve got stuck in them when I visit – the Forbidden Forest.” it seemed he meant to say something else at the end. 

While Harry and Hermione were both keeping a close eye on Hagrid, Ron was instead following the spider’s every move; he was sweating bullets. 

“Where are you going?” Harry asked Hermione who was walking down a different corridor than them. 

“I want to ask Mrs. Sprout how far the Mandrakes are. You go to Professor Flitwick’s event; I’ll be there in a minute.” 

It was odd seeing the greenhouses’ tables cleared and clean. Professor Sprout was preparing them for the team event that was to happen later that afternoon. 

“Oh, Miss Granger, how can I help?” the plump lady bounced once she noticed the girl. 

“I just wanted to know how much until the Mandrakes are ready, Professor.” 

“Again, dear? I tell you every time, even with perfect care, we cannot speed up the process. Could you get that for me, please?” she pointed to a pot, “As it is, they will be ready around June.” 

“I see.” Hermione always received this answer and always felt disappointed.