Chapter 2
After confirming with his supply list that he’s packed all of the required books for the year, Harry starts to fill the remaining space in the library compartment of his trunk with other books he’s picked up over the summer. Most were owl-ordered, but a few were ones he’d pilfered from the libraries at Aquarius House and Grimmauld Place.
After purchasing two outrageously expensive doses of polyjuice a couple of weeks earlier, Sirius spent ages browsing the luggage store in the magical district of Brighton. The clearly-couldn’t-be-bothered shopkeeper had recommended a reasonably sized trunk that would fit about four hundred books. Sirius had been angling for the trunk that had a walk-in apartment that included a study and a library that, all together, would hold somewhere around five thousand books (in the designated bookshelves - let alone however many could be stashed in the full sized apartment the trunk contained).
Harry quickly had to step in before Sirius dropped a few hundred galleons on a trunk way bigger than Harry would ever need. They purchased the trunk the shopkeeper had initially recommended, although Harry had allowed Sirius to get the style in leather and polished silver instead of one of the more simple options that Harry probably would have picked if left on his own.
Filling the library compartment now, Harry has to laugh. He’s barely able to fill the first two shelves with the required books from every year at Hogwarts. There would have been no way he could fill all the shelves in the larger trunk.
Still, he appreciates the extra space as he pulls some of the other books he’s acquired this summer off his bookcase. He packs all of the supplementary Defense Against the Dark Arts books, even the ones he managed to read this summer. A few of the more helpful Wixen culture and history books make the cut, as well as one or two other supplementary books per subject.
Early in the summer, Harry promised himself he’d take his schooling more seriously.
And not just DADA, either.
This was their OWL year, and the exams at the end of the year could significantly impact his future, as they’d also limit which NEWT classes he’d be able to take during his last two years at Hogwarts. He was determined to put in the effort this year instead of just coasting by.
Sirius didn’t seem the type to ride Harry about his grades, but Harry was also embarrassingly excited about having someone other than Hermione who might even want to see his end-of-year results. Harry wanted Sirius to be proud of him, maybe even have a reason to brag about Harry the way Mrs. Weasley sang the praises of her children.
Hermione had been ecstatic when he’d shared his plans. Ron had just seemed resigned.
Tossing his old battered copy of Quidditch Through the Ages and a still unread A Successful Seeker’s Sermons; How to Be the Swiftest On the Pitch by Ariel Singleton into the chest, Harry closes the lid and inserts one of the five keys from a chain around his neck to open another compartment.
With his clothing, books, and assorted class supplies packed, Harry’s down to sorting out which of the various odds and ends he had accumulated over the summer he wants to bring back to school.
The self-updating quidditch league bracket poster was a must, along with the small portable wireless that Remus had given him as a belated birthday present. Most of his stash of sweets would come; there was no point in leaving them behind.
He leaves behind the gobstone set he’d picked up the other week but does pack the wizard's chess set, optimistically hoping that the reason he’s so terrible at the game is down to always having to borrow someone else’s pieces. A few decks of exploding snap are gently placed in the trunk, and he folds a red and gold scarf on top of them to provide some extra padding.
One of Neville’s decks had exploded in his trunk the year prior, and he spent the first month of classes smelling vaguely of smoke and burnt quills.
The Marauder's Map and his invisibility cloak get tucked into an extendable bag he’ll keep in his pocket, along with the photo album Hagrid gave him years ago. He wants to keep these items close to him. Although the framed photo of his parents that had just shown up in his room one day does go into the trunk - he can already picture how it’ll look on his bedside table in the dorm.
Sirius swore up and down he didn’t put the photo in his room, but considering they were literally the only two inhabitants at Aquarius House, Harry wasn’t fooled.
Harry picks a few other things he thinks he’d find helpful over the school year and tucks them in along with the rest until the compartment is about halfway full.
He’s doing one last sweep of the room when he’s interrupted by a knock at the open door.
“All packed?” Sirius asks, leaning against the door frame. “Dinner’s nearly ready if you’re set to take a break?”
“Yeah, I think I’m about done. Let me wash up, and I’ll be right down.” Sirius nods, and although he’s smiling, it’s a bit wistful.
As he heads back down the hallway, Sirius says over his shoulder, “It’s a nice night, so I set us up on the terrace. We can enjoy the view one last time before you leave.”
Sirius’s mood has been steadily declining over the past few days. He’s tried to hide it, but Harry can tell his godfather isn’t looking forward to Harry returning to school. They talked it over and agreed that although the house in general had bad memories, it made more sense for Sirius to move back into Grimmauld Place while Harry was away.
There, he could keep an eye on the Order and spend more time with Remus while also protecting the secret of Aquarius House. If Sirius ever needed to get away, he’d return to the beachside manor, but his primary residence during the school term would be Grimmauld.
It would also give him easier access to his predecessors’ files and records as Sirius turned his attention to the political influence he’d wield as Lord Black.
Between the move, his upcoming focus on politics, and Harry leaving, Sirius’s mood was understandably dark.
Still, Harry appreciated that his godfather did his best to put a happy face on it. For what it was worth, Harry wasn’t particularly excited to leave either.
After quickly washing his hands in the en suite, Harry takes the long way down to the terrace, enjoying the meandering path through his home.
Before this summer, he’d always considered Hogwarts his home - and it was, in a way.
But Hogwarts was always temporary.
Even when not factoring in the summer months when he had to return to Little Whinging, Hogwarts had an expiration date. After his seventh year, Harry would have to leave the castle and sprawling grounds behind. His cozy bed in Gryffendor tower. The quiet afternoons in the library. The rolling hills and sharp mountains. All of it would eventually have to be left behind.
But Aquarius House had stood here for centuries. It would be here and could be claimed as his for Harry’s entire life.
There was a comfort in that. In that permanence. In claiming something as his that had already withstood generations of other wixen and would surely outlast Harry as well.
As he walks, trailing his fingers across the wall next to him, Harry swears he can feel those years this house had lived reaching back to him. A spark of something - magic, or remembrance, or awareness, tangling with his fingers, running beneath his every footstep, as a soft breeze through his fringe.
Or maybe he was just imagining it, heartsick over leaving this sun drenched manor in which he had the best summer of his life.
*
Dinner was practically a feast; all laid out with the crashing waves as a picturesque background. Harry would have complimented Sirius on the cooking, but he knew his godfather had visited Grimmauld earlier today and returned weighed down with containers Kreacher had prepared and packed for them.
Smiling in response to Sirius’s quiet greeting, the two sat and served themselves.
For a few minutes, it was silent beside their appreciation for Kreacher’s cooking, but then Harry asked, “What time should we leave tomorrow? And are we meeting the rest at Grimmauld Place like Mrs. Weasley suggested?”
Swallowing his bite of chicken, Sirius replied, “We’ll go to Grimmauld, but just to use the Floo there. I thought we’d cut it fairly close to the departure time of the Express. We can leave here at about 10:15, apparate to Grimmauld, and have you on the platform by 10:45. That’ll give you a few minutes to find your friends and settle in.”
“Ron and Hermione will have a Prefect meeting, and then I think they’ll have to patrol the train for a bit.”
And hadn’t that been a surprise?
Not Hermione getting Prefect. They had all called that one way back in first year. Practically their first week at Hogwarts.
But Harry would have bet that the boys' badge would have gone to Neville or maybe Dean. Harry had assumed that he and Ron had gotten one (or a dozen) too many detentions to be assigned any sort of authority role.
When he’d gotten the letter from Hermione sharing the news, there’d been a brief moment where he felt frustration and envy sink like a stone into his stomach, but then Sirius had laughed and reminded him that he and James had also been passed over for Prefect.
Harry didn’t feel so bad about it going to Ron then. And besides, Harry still remembered Ron’s deepest desire in first year, revealed by the Mirror of Erised. Maybe he wouldn’t get all of the accolades he craved as an eleven-year-old, but this was at least something that Ron had and Harry didn’t.
Other than the loving parents, many siblings, and happy childhood, Harry had thought with a slight eye roll.
Still, Harry had shown up to Mrs. Weasley’s planned celebratory dinner and offered honest congratulations to both Ron and Hermione. He even steered Fred and George away from their ideas to spell Ron’s badge to say something nasty, which was a true mark of his and Ron’s friendship, as it resulted in the twins focusing their pranking on Harry for the evening instead.
Harry is jolted out of his thoughts when Sirius says, “Hmm. Maybe it’ll be a chance to spread your wings a bit. Make some new friends.”
“New friends? Ron and Mione will only be busy for the train ride. Not sure I need to go find new friends just for that.” Harry says with a laugh, a bit incredulous at Sirius’s suggestion.
Sirius shrugs casually, “I’m just saying. More friends wouldn’t be a bad thing. It wouldn’t hurt to branch out beyond Hermione and the Weasleys.”
“I’m friends with Neville too.”
“Alright, outside of Hermione, the Weasleys, and your dorm mates then,” Sirius says with a laugh.
Harry sets his fork down to give Sirius his attention, “What’s this really about Padfoot? Are you actually asking me to - what, leave Ron and Hermione behind?”
Sirius quickly reassures him, stretching one hand across the table to rest atop Harry’s, “Of course, I’m not asking you to leave your closest friends behind, Harry. I’d never ask that of you. But I’ve noticed in all the stories you’ve told me about your time at school that you really don’t mention anyone other than them. You’re a bit isolated, kiddo. I think it’d be good for you, probably good for all three of you, to make more friends.”
Harry looks past Sirius to watch the ocean as he mutters, “The rest of them all look at me differently. Either I’m a savior, or I’m a cheater, or the bloody heir of Slytherin. Ron and Hermione, and the Weasleys, and sometimes the rest of the boys in the dorm are the only ones who don’t look at me like that. It’s awkward. I gave up on making more friends back in first year.”
“Hmm, and I suppose Ron and Hermione and the others immediately saw you as exactly who you were?”
No, actually. Ron had been just as awed as everyone else when they first met but had mostly gotten over it by the time the train pulled into Hogsmeade. And Hermione, despite being muggleborn and only recently exposed to Harry’s reputation, had still quoted several books that mentioned Harry to Harry in the first months of knowing him.
At the time, Harry had just been so desperate for friends - for connection - that he’d been willing to overlook it all.
Seeming to read this on his face, Sirius continues, “I’m sure there are some people who will never see past the rumors and stories about you. But there are bound to be some that can if you just allow them to get to know the real you. It doesn’t have to be on the train tomorrow, but I think you should try it over the next year. I want you to have more friends, more people who you can turn to for support, Harry,”
“I guess I’ll try it.” Harry is still doubtful it’s really necessary.
Again, Sirius is able to read his expression easily, “If you need another reason for it, just consider it your introduction to politics. Eventually, you’ll have to take over as Lord Black, and making friends - or allies - when you don’t really want to will be good practice. And I’m sure I’ll be dealing with some of their parents in the Wizengamot, so you might be able to help in some way.”
Harry perked up at this.
There’s an idea. Work on getting the kids on our side, while Sirius works on the parents.
“Now, what are you most looking forward to this year at school?” Sirius asks, changing the subject.
“The return of Quidditch, definitely.” Harry tells him, “It’ll be good to get back up in the air, but after a year with no Quidditch, I dunno how it’ll be. I’m out of practice.”
Sirius snorts, “You - youngest seeker in a century, Quidditch prodigy - are worried a few months without matches is going to have much of an impact on your playing. Please, I bet you five galleons you get the snitch every time you play this year.”
Laughing, Harry acknowledges Sirius’s point. “Okay, maybe I’ll be alright. But so many from the old teams have graduated, it’s going to be different. I think Gryffendor is the best off, we were a young team. We’ll only have to replace Oliver. But I think Ravenclaw is down to only one or two left. And who knows, maybe there’ll be another first year that gets on a team and blows me away.”
“Ahh, yes. Maybe another Head will be so Quidditch-crazy they’re willing to bend the rules to allow a first year to join their team, just to ensure the Quidditch Cup makes its way back to their office.” Sirius teases.
“In any case,” he continues, “I’m excited to come up and watch you play. And not in my four-legged form this time. My perception of color as Padfoot isn’t nearly as good - it was hard to keep track of you.”
Harry blinked in surprise. He knew parents could come and watch Quidditch games, he’d met several of his team mates parents over the years. Outside of meeting up during Hogsmeade weekends, it was really the only chance parents would have to see their children during the school term.
Harry knew this, he just…had never thought it would be relevant to him. Ducking his head to hide what was surely a sappy smile, Harry says, “That’ll be nice. It’ll be good to see you, even if it’s just for a few minutes after the game.”
Sirius’s voice is soft when he replies, “Yes, it’ll be nice to see you too.”
*
Harry, used to spending the last few September firsts with the Weasley family, is pleasantly surprised with the much more relaxed morning he and Sirius share. Apparently, organizing the transportation of one student to Kings Cross is much easier than organizing that of six (or seven, if Hermione was there).
Harry wakes without an alarm, letting the sun peaking through his half drawn curtains draw him to consciousness. After showering and brushing his teeth, he wanders down to the kitchen to prepare himself some toast and tea.
Joining Sirius in the dining room, he finds the older man frowning over the morning edition of The Prophet.
“Morning. Any mention of us in there?”
Since siccing their solicitor on the newspaper earlier that summer, the Prophet had been walking a very fine line of trying to disparage Harry (and Dumbledore) for their assertions that Voldemort had returned, without saying anything that would get them slammed with a libel suit.
“No, actually. They’re behaving. There is something you should read though, I’m not sure what impact it’ll have for you at school.”
As Harry sits across from Sirius, he snags the newspaper as Sirius slides it over to him. The front page is taken up almost entirely with one article and a photo of Minister Fudge shaking hands with a short woman who is smirking into the camera. For some reason, despite the large bow in her hair, the woman reminds Harry of Neville’s toad Trevor.
Minister Fudge Appoints First Ever Hogwarts High Inquisitor to Oversee Improvements in Great Britain’s Foremost Place of Education
Harry frowns and quickly skims through the article. Apparently, Fudge had created a new position in the ministry and appointed his Senior Undersecretary - the pictured smirking woman - to the role. She would be responsible for evaluating the current status of Hogwarts and recommending improvements to things like the curriculum and teaching staff, as well as other “integral aspects of the Hogwarts experience.”
“Huh. I don’t trust Fudge much, but I suppose it’s not a bad thing to find room for improvement, right?” Harry supposes.
Sirius, still frowning over his mug of tea, says absentmindedly, “As long as they’re actual improvements and not just the Ministry overstepping. I’m surprised something like this didn’t have to go through the Wizengamot. Hogwarts is technically under the purview of the Wiz’, not the Ministry.”
“Maybe she’ll get rid of Binns.” Harry says optimistically, “Or - what if she kicks Snape out! That’d be an improvement to Hogwarts I could get behind.” Harry is cheered at the thought. He’s determined to do better in all of his classes this year, but improving his grade in Potions seems like an impossible task when he’s graded by a Professor with a grudge.
Sirius chuckles, seeming to focus on Harry fully for the first time that morning. “I doubt even this Umbridge person is formidable enough to take on Snape, but I’ll hope it happens for your sake.”
*
After returning to his room, Harry takes a few moments to smooth his hair down with a few drops of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion.
Sirius had bought a bottle half as a joke earlier in the summer, telling Harry it was sacrilege if a Potter didn’t at least own a bottle for appearances sake. At Harry’s clueless expression, Sirius had sheepishly explained that Harry’s grandfather had developed the potion, and its continued manufacturing and sale was where most of the Potter fortune had come from.
According to Sirius, James, in a fit of rebellion, had always refused to use it to tame the signature Potter wild curls, despite constantly having a supply of it around the house growing up.
Harry had tried it out and decided that he liked the way the potion had softened his riotous curls into something approaching order. It took away some of the resemblance he had to his father, but after learning so much more about James, Harry was okay with not looking like a carbon copy.
He didn’t have to look like his father to feel close to him anymore.
Finishing in the bathroom, Harry moves to dress in the clothes he had carefully selected and set out the night before. His fitted black slacks and white dress shirt were simple. There was some silver and black embroidery on the collar and wrists of the shirt, but both were otherwise plain and could be eventually worn under his school robes without breaking the dress code. Graphorn skin boots and a dragonscale wand holster completed the look.
Sparing a moment to acknowledge this was the most he had ever spent on his appearance, Harry had to laugh as he heard Ron’s voice in his head.
You bloody tosser, stop checking yourself out in the mirror.
But today was important. With the way school ended last year, and then the focus on Harry in the Daily Prophet over summer, he was sure to gain even more attention than usual today. And that would be true even if he wasn’t being escorted by Sirius Black, recently assumed murderer, more recently proved innocent man, and new Head of House Black.
While he and Sirius had made the occasional appearance out and about in the last few weeks, that was always spontaneous, and typically people didn’t have enough time to fully recognize they were looking at Harry Potter and Sirius Black before the two had moved on.
Today, everyone would know to expect them.
Harry chucks his worn pajamas into his trunk, then shuts the lid and locks it. He sent Hedwig on her way last night before bed, so there was no need to pack her cage.
Harry tucks his extendable bag into his pocket. Despite its near weightlessness, it’s filled with his most precious items, as well as a small money bag for the treat trolly and the book on runic warding he’s only halfway through. Next, Harry taps the discreet spot on his trunk that will set it to follow him - or, more precisely, follow his wand which he’d linked to the enchantments.
Pausing at the door, Harry takes one final look at the room he’s called home over the last few weeks. He feels ridiculous doing it, but he gives the room a little wave goodbye. When he closes the door softly behind him, he’s already thinking fondly of returning to it in December.
Wonder what winter on a beach looks like. Will it still snow?
He meets Sirius near the front door. They’ll have to go just past the wards to apparate, as only their emergency port keys allow them entry directly into the property.
“Ready Pronglet?”
“Ready Padfoot.“
*
Kings Cross is just as crowded as usual, with younger students darting between clumps of families saying goodbye, and friends reuniting after months apart.
Harry can tell people have spotted them, the back of his neck is prickling with the eyes he feels on him. Ignoring them all, Harry walks directly from the floo fireplace, at the opposite end of the platform to the barrier, to the nearest train carriage, Sirius keeping close to his side.
Harry pauses a few yards from the train and looks up at his godfather.
“Well then, I suppose this is goodbye for now.” Sirius says quietly, his expression a bit lost. “Write to me when you can, or use the mirrors. And let me know the Quidditch schedule so I can block out those weekends.. and…and if you ever wanted me to stop by on a Hogsmeade trip…” His voice is unsure, but seems to cheer up when Harry starts to smile, “Just let me know. I’ll always come up and visit, whenever you want Harry.”
“Okay, I will.” Harry promises. A beat of silence, and then Harry says, “Look, lets not do the whole awkward goodbye thing, okay? I’ll talk to you on the mirror soon, so it’s not like we’re not going to see each other in the next couple days, and you’ll come up for a visit soon.”
Sirius laughs, “Alright. No awkward goodbyes - just a talk to you soon.”
With that, Harry steps up onto the train, his trunk continuing to bob along behind him. The first few carriages he passes through are already full - they had gotten to Kings Cross with only a few minutes to spare after all, but eventually he peers into one that holds some familiar faces.
Sliding the door open, Harry grins at Neville and Ginny and throws a curious look at the blonde girl sitting with them.
“Harry! Come in.”
“Hey Nev, Gin. Can I join you? I think Mione and Ron will be at a Prefect meeting.”
“Course, Harry. Come on in.”
Neville shifts the large plant he had been showing to the girls off the seat next to him, and tucks it between his feet on the floor, clearing a space for Harry to sit. After directing his trunk up to the shelves above them, and disengaging the Follow Along charm, Harry sits and smiles again at the group, focusing on the girl he doesn’t know.
He’s about to introduce himself when she says dreamily, “Hello Harry Potter. You’re looking well. Much better than the last time I saw you - at the Leaving Feast. The fluttering fingerees seem to have left you entirely.”
Glancing at the other two in confusion, he sees Neville looking out the window with a slight grimace, and Ginny watching him with a certain light in her eyes that reminded him of Fred and George whenever they were waiting for a planned prank to take effect.
“Err. That’s good? I guess?”
“Oh yes, it’s very good for you. Good for all of us I’d say.” The girl continues to stare at him with big blue eyes, seemingly content to leave it at that.
Harry throws another desperate glance at Ginny, who seems to pity him enough to step in.
“Harry, this is Luna Lovegood. She actually lives quite close to the Burrow, so we’ve known each other for ages. She’s in my year, in Ravenclaw.”
“Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.” Luna tells him, and then continues to stare at him, as if waiting for a response.
“Er. Right. Rowena Ravenclaw said that.” He replies.
Apparently that was all the acknowledgement Luna needed, as she nodded and then picked up a magazine that had been on the seat next to her, and raised it high enough it hid her face.
It was also upside down.
Sensing he wouldn’t get any more help from Ginny, who was silently laughing at his expression, Harry turns to Neville, intending to ask about the strange girl in their carriage, but getting distracted by the sight of Neville smiling down at the plant on the floor.
“Is that a new plant, Nev?”
Neville, typically fairly reserved, brightens up and spends the next few minutes telling Harry all about his Mimbulus mimbletonia, the defensive mechanism it utilizes against the animals that would eat it and the potions benefits the sap could be used for. Eventually, Neville seemed to realize he was ten minutes into a Herbology lecture, and the train had departed while he had been speaking.
“Um. A-Anyways, I’m going to try and breed them this year. I already wrote to Professor Sprout and she said I can do it as an extra credit project throughout the year.” Setting the plant on the floor again, Nev asks, “H-How was your summer, Harry? I saw…well, everything that was talked about in the Prophet, but Gran says the paper’s mostly waffle these days, so I wasn’t sure what to believe.”
Ginny, who had heard the truth of the matter while living at Grimmauld over summer. pulled out a magazine of her own to read, but Harry saw Luna lower her (still upside down) reading material just enough that she could peer over the edge at him.
“Er, yeah, it was a pretty crazy summer. I’m living with Sirius now, which is great, and the Dursleys - who I used to live with, um…really were attacked by dementors.”
“I’m sorry about your relatives, Harry. That sounds awful.” Harry, always uncomfortable when people expressed sympathy over the tragedies in his life, and especially unsure on how to respond to sympathy for the Dursley’s, just nodded in acknowledgement of Neville’s words.
“Merlin, I’m glad your Godfather was able to take custody of you. I can’t imagine what would have happened if he was still on the run or in Azkaban and your family was attacked.”
Dumbledore probably would have shoved me with Aunt Marge and claimed it “for the best.” Harry though, admittedly a bit bitterly.
He was nervous about seeing the Headmaster for the first time since that late night when Dumbledore tracked them down at Aquarius House. There had been no indication that Harry’s obliviation had failed. But maybe seeing Harry again would bring it all back?
Brooding over Dumbledore’s potential response to remembering what Harry did had been another source of stress the last few weeks, causing Harry to feel reluctance at returning to Hogwarts.
But he was already on the train there, nothing could stop it at this point - best he could do was enjoy these last few hours with friends and potentially face the consequences later.
Looking to move the conversation from possibly stressful subjects, Harry tells Neville about his visit to Brighton earlier in summer, and Neville shares about his own trip to Germany. Periodically, Luna will pipe up with seemingly random comments, such as:
“The blimpdinkers are especially prominent in Munich this year.”
Or, “Daddy says the mermaids are half way through carrying out a ten century plot to take over the planet Saturn.”
Neither Harry or Neville quite know how to respond, but Ginny muffles her laughter each time behind the charms book she swapped out for the magazine at some point.
Shortly after the treat trolly passes by, Harry and Ginny are talking quidditch, while Neville is plucking at this plant (and Luna - silent and staring at all of them with unblinking blue eyes). They’re interrupted when the carriage door jerks open and Ron and Hermione enter.
Ron nods at the three of them, and tosses a questioning look at Luna, before sitting gingerly down next to Harry. Hermione, meanwhile, hasn’t even paused in what is clearly an ongoing rant.
As the witch follows Ron into the carriage and throws herself on the bench next to Ginny, Harry gathers from her grumbling that Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson have been appointed as the Slytherin prefects.
“…and I have no idea why Professor Dumbledor would approve them, even if the appointments are made by the heads of house. The two of them are the biggest bullies in Slytherin! Their appointment practically spits in the face of the rest of us - who earned our spots by being good students, or loyal friends, or people that younger years go to for advice and help. It’s ridiculous! It should have gone to Greengrass and Nott. Or maybe Zabini if he’d be willing to take a few breaks from admiring himself in the mirror once and a while.”
“Er - Hello Hermione. I take it you’re unhappy with some of your fellow prefects?” Harry asked with a grin.
Hermione blinks at him, and then looks around the carriage as if surprised by where she’s found herself.
“Oh! Harry!” Leaning across the carriage, she gives him a quick hug. “It was so strange not to come to the Platform with you. I kept turning to tell you something but you weren’t there. I had to tell Ron instead.”
Ginny speaks up, “Ah, see I’ve gotten so good at ignoring Ron, that I just never speak to him.”
“Oi!” Ron protests, while Harry just chuckles.
“Did you hear something, Hermione? Must have been the wind.” Ginny says breezily, speaking right over Ron’s complaints about “getting no respect from the witches in his life.”
Laughing at the antics of the siblings, Hermione asks Harry, “How were your last few days of summer break. And how’s Sirius?”
“It was good. And he’s good too. Getting ready to move back to - er, where you all stayed this summer.” Harry stumbles over the secret of Grimmauld Place, throwing a glance at the two individuals in the carriage who aren’t in the know. Neville, picking up on information being kept from him, respectfully looks out the window. Luna, of course, continues to stare, not even attempting to hide her eavesdropping.
“He’s planning on attending the Wizengamot sessions when they start up again in a couple weeks. Says he’ll use that to occupy himself now that I’m away.”
“Oh how interesting. I haven’t done much research into the legal system since we were trying to get Buckbeak acquitted…Actually, that reminds me, Harry. Do you know what happened with Buckbeak? He was with us at the start of summer and then just disappeared one day.” Hermione muses.
“Yeah, Sirius took him to where we were staying.” Buckbeak had loved soaring over the spray of the ocean, and when he wanted to rest, they had found him a cave high up on the nearby cliffs that was cool and dry and had laid down some hay ripe with self-cleaning charms. Many hours had been spent watching Buckbeak swoop above the waves, with the occasional steep plummet that would end with a fish being made a hypogriff’s dinner.
Sirius had talked about trying to rescue a female so Buckbeak could start a little hippogriff family one day.
“He’s doing really well. Has lots of space to fly and run, and we mostly leave him alone. It’s as good as being in the wild as we can get while still keeping him protected.”
“Oh, that’s really lovely, Harry.” Hermione beams at him, “I’m so glad he’s able to fly now.”
“Hippogriffs are the reincarnated spirits of quidditch players that died while playing.” Luna interjects. “There was a whole article about it in last month's issue of The Quibbler.”
“Excuse me?” Hermione asks. “That’s not true. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Truth doesn’t have to make sense.” Luna says perfunctorily, “And what makes sense isn’t always true.”