Chapter Fifteen - The Order of the Phoenix
After fifteen minutes, Hermione had fallen silent, horribly aware of Mrs Weasley’s halting sobs from another chair. The twins had each grasped one of her arms and guided her to a seat as soon as Hermione had told them that Voldemort had risen again.
As per her promise to Harry, she had left out the wand connection and everything that they had done, making it sound like Harry had grabbed the Cup through a lucky guess and returned Cedric out of his own initiative – it wasn’t too much of a stretch; Harry’s luck was notorious in dangerous situations and he would never have left Cedric there if he could help it, even without his last request.
Ron had sunk, white-faced, into the seat beside her, staring wordlessly across the room, where curtains hid Harry from view. By now, he had taken a Dreamless Sleep Potion, for which Hermione was grateful, because it meant that he couldn’t see, or sense, the sympathetic and pitying glances Mrs Weasley was throwing in his direction.
Hermione herself stared at her lap, unable to meet anyone’s gaze, stroking Padfoot’s head rhythmically. After a few minutes, he lifted his head, whining softly, and Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow.
In response, he jumped down and padded over to the curtained bed. Mrs Weasley half-rose in protest, but Ron squeezed his mother’s hand and shook his head.
Hermione followed him, slipping through the curtains in time to see Padfoot jump onto the bed, curling up at Harry’s feet. He looked over at Mandy and Arabella, and whined again.
Hermione smiled slightly. “Right.” She whispered. “Of course. Mandy, Arabella, could I have a word please? In private?”
Both women looked reluctant to leave Harry’s side, but the silent plea in Hermione’s eyes convinced them, and they rose from their seats by Harry’s head, and followed Hermione into the main ward.
“Madam Pomfrey?” Hermione asked quietly. “Is there somewhere I can talk to Mandy and Arabella in private?”
Madam Pomfrey looked up from checking over the real Mad-Eye Moody. “You can use my office if you wish, Miss Granger.”
“Thank you.” Hermione led the two women into the office and looked around carefully, checking for any portraits that could report back to the Headmaster. There were none, so she locked and silenced the door, before turning to face them.
“What’s wrong, Hermione?” Mandy asked.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Hermione assured her, allowing herself a smile as Lily appeared beside her. “There’s just a few things that you should know. First of all, I’m an empath.”
Unlike when she told Ron and Ginny, there was no sudden spike of emotion in the air. Both women simply smiled at her, as though they already knew.
“Sirius told us that much while we were waiting in Dumbledore’s office.” Arabella told her gently. “He also said there was something else, but that was when you arrived.”
Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath. “Well, there’s only really one way to do this. James and Lily are alive.”
Beside her, Lily burst out laughing at the looks of utter shock that appeared on their faces. “Okay, they win!”
“Be nice, Lily.” Hermione chided. “They’re in shock, and I hardly blame them!”
“Hermione,” Arabella said weakly, “did you just say what I think you said?”
“Yes, I did.” Hermione answered, before sighing heavily. “Dammit, Ginny took my bag back to the dorms, didn’t she?”
“She did, dear.” Lily confirmed. “And the transcript was in there.”
“I know.” Hermione ran a hand through her hair. “Ask me something. Something only Lily would know.”
Mandy and Arabella exchanged a wary glance. “There aren’t many things,” Mandy said slowly. “Everything I can think of, other people knew as well …” She hesitated, before pulling a face. “No, there is something. I never told anyone else, but Lily and I spoke a week before she was … killed.”
“Kidnapped.” Hermione corrected helpfully. “What about?”
Mandy raised an eyebrow. “You tell me.”
Hermione turned to Lily, who looked both guilty and upset. “She told me she was worried because Peter was acting out of sorts lately … she was reconsidering going to Albania … worrying about him. I …” She sighed. “I thought that … I thought he was planning to propose … and I told her as such.”
Hermione felt the colour drain from her face. “Oh Merlin …” She turned to Mandy. “You’re not going to make me say it, are you?”
Mandy was just as pale, but her face was set. “Unfortunately, Hermione, yes, I am.”
“You’re a glutton for punishment.” Hermione muttered, catching her arm. Leaning in, she repeated Lily’s words in a whisper. “Believe me?” She asked, pulling back.
Mandy nodded, closing her eyes. “I believe you.”
Arabella stared between them. “Okay, first of all, what did you say? Second of all, how is this possible?”
Before Hermione had time to explain, Mandy raised a hand. “Listen.”
Hermione frowned, flicking her wand at the door. “Finite Incantatem.”
Raised voices were approaching the Hospital Wing. Silently agreeing to put the discussion on hold, the three left Pomfrey’s office to see that the Weasleys were on their feet, staring at the doors.
“They’ll wake him if they don’t shut up.” Arabella hissed, moving to Harry’s side as he began to shift. She ran a hand through his messy hair, humming under her breath, and he stilled almost instantly.
“What are they shouting about?” Ron asked quietly. “Nothing else can have happened, can it?”
“I didn’t hear anything on my way.” Ginny said, making Hermione jump. “I got back about a minute ago.” She said to her questioning glance. “I left your bag on your bed.”
“Thanks.” Hermione moved over to Harry as well, resting a hand on Padfoot’s head.
“That’s Fudge’s voice.” Mrs Weasley whispered. “And Minerva McGonagall’s, isn’t it?”
“It is.” Mandy confirmed. “But why they’re arguing, I don’t know.”
“Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva …”
“You should never have brought it inside the castle!”
The doors to the hospital wing burst open, causing everyone to jump. Padfoot jumped down from the bed to sit at Hermione’s heels as she sunk into a chair beside Harry, overcome by a sudden surge of anger.
Cornelius Fudge stormed in, McGonagall and Snape on his heels. “Where is Dumbledore?!” He demanded.
“Minister, this is a hospital wing!” Mrs Weasley protested. “And he’s not here – don’t you think you should …?”
“What happened?” Dumbledore interrupted, sweeping in with a swirl of purple robes. “Minister, why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I’m surprised at you – I asked you to guard Barty Crouch …”
“There’s no need to stand guard over him anymore, Headmaster!” McGonagall shrieked. “The Minister has seen to that!”
Hermione swallowed nervously. She had never seen her Head of House lose control like this. Her hair was coming loose from its normally tight bun, her fists were clenched and she was almost shaking with fury.
“When we told Minister Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight’s events,” Snape explained, “he seemed to feel his own personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a Dementor to accompany him into the castle.”
Mrs Weasley let out a gasp and pulled Ginny into her arms, eliciting a strangled protest. “Mum! I’m fine!”
“You’ve been in and out of this wing, Ginny; what if …?” Mrs Weasley could not continue, clinging to her daughter.
“I told him you would not agree!” McGonagall insisted, apparently oblivious to the byplay. “I told him you would never allow Dementors to set foot inside the castle, but …”
“My dear woman!” Fudge interrupted loudly. “As Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a potentially dangerous …”
McGonagall’s voice drowned him out, however. “The moment that … that … thing entered the room, it swooped down on Barty Crouch and … and …”
Hermione shuddered, ice flooding her veins. Padfoot whimpered at her feet, and she whistled softly, patting the chair beside her. He jumped up next to her, half-lying across her lap, and she rested a hand on his head again, feeling him shivering.
Luckily, she didn’t need eye contact to simply push words into someone’s head. It’s alright. You’re alright. They won’t come near you. It’s gone now.
Again, she wasn’t entirely sure he could hear her, but he definitely seemed to relax, at least physically.
“By all accounts, he is no loss!” Fudge blustered, ignoring everyone else in the room. “He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus tell me, he seemed to think he was doing it all on You-Know-Who’s instructions!”
“Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions.” Dumbledore confirmed. “Those people's deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body.”
Fudge looked as though he’d been hit with something heavy. “You-Know-Who … returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore …"
“As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you," Dumbledore said, "we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban and how Voldemort – learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins – went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return.”
Hermione was astonished to see a smile beginning to appear on Fudge’s face. She’d never had huge faith in the man’s intelligence, but surely even he could see that this was nothing to smile about!
“See here, Dumbledore, you – you can't seriously believe that You-Know-Who - back? Come now, come now … certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders - but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore …"
After five minutes of debate, all that had been established was that Fudge believed every word that Rita had written and that there was no way Voldemort could have returned.
Harry had woken up, and joined in with gusto – Hermione had to hold Padfoot back when Fudge suggested that Harry’s word wasn’t good enough, and Bill had to jump in to keep Mandy and Arabella from cursing the man, when he insisted that Harry was either cracking up or attention-seeking.
Hermione wanted to join in, to remind Fudge that just last year, he was warning people that Sirius might be looking for Voldemort (so he clearly believed he was alive at some point), but she held her tongue, unwilling to draw too much attention to herself – or, more importantly, to the illegal Animagus sitting beside her.
Snape even went as far as to show Fudge his Dark Mark, admitting to being a spy during the last war, but the Minister refused to listen.
Finally, Fudge stormed out of the hospital wing, dropping Harry’s Triwizard winnings on his bedside table.
Dumbledore sighed heavily, turning to face the remaining occupants, all of whom were standing, or sitting, in stunned silence. “There is work to be done. Molly, am I right in assuming that I can count on you and Arthur?”
Mrs Weasley’s eyes were wet with tears, fear encircling her like a black cloud, and Hermione’s heart went out to the woman who had already lost her parents, brothers and sister to this maniac. When she spoke, however, her voice was firm and steady. “You can. We know what Fudge is.”
For a second, Hermione wondered what she meant, but then she remembered what Dumbledore had said to Fudge not minutes ago. “You are blinded by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius. You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood. You fail to recognise that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be.”
So the Minister of Magic was a blood-snob. That boded well for Muggle-born students.
“It’s Arthur’s fondness for Muggles that has held him back all these years.” Mrs Weasley continued, proving her right. “Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride.”
“Then I need to send a message to Arthur.” Dumbledore concluded. “All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well-placed to contact others at the Ministry.”
“You’ll have at least two other Heads of Department, Headmaster.” Mandy said softly. “Amos won’t take this lying down. He may not actively join the cause, but he will believe us, and that’s better than nothing.”
“That’s only one.” Arabella said, looking puzzled. “Who’s the other?”
Mandy allowed herself a self-satisfied smirk. “Well, there’s been some investigating into Ludo Bagman. You remember that owl I got a month ago?”
Arabella nodded. “I don’t think you ever told me what it said.”
“Well, it informed me that Bagman was in a lot of trouble with the goblins – gambling debts – and that he was trying to rig certain games to pay them off.” Mandy explained. “They left him in place to finish commentating the Tournament, but as of two hours ago, he is unemployed.”
“So …” Arabella prompted.
Mandy’s smirk grew slightly. “So you are looking at the new Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”
Arabella gaped at her. “Wow … Congratulations – I was not expecting that.”
“Neither was I.” Mandy admitted, before looking back at Dumbledore. “I’ll see what I can do, Albus, but I’m not leaving Harry’s side just yet.”
“Dad can handle it.” Bill assured her, standing up. “I’ll go and tell him now.”
“Excellent. Tell him what happened.” Dumbledore instructed. “Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering in the Ministry …”
“Leave it to me.” Bill slipped his cloak on and kissed Ginny and his mother, before moving over to clap Harry on the shoulder, hug Hermione, and shake Dumbledore’s hand, before leaving the hospital wing.
“Minerva, I want to see Hagrid in my office in an hour. Madame Maxime as well, if she wouldn’t mind.”
Professor McGonagall nodded, her lips still very thin, and swept out of the room.
“Poppy,” Dumbledore said, “would you be so kind as to go up to Professor Moody’s office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky, in considerable distress. Do what you can for her and then take her down to the kitchens – Dobby will look after her for us.”
Madam Pomfrey looked very confused, but did as she was told, whereupon Professor Dumbledore closed the doors carefully, and made sure Madam Pomfrey was out of earshot, before speaking again.
“Now, it is time for two of our number to recognise each other for what they are. Sirius?”
Mandy put a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder, preventing him from getting up, and she and Arabella rounded his hospital bed to stand in front of Hermione.
“Molly’s pretty handy with a wand if she thinks her children are threatened.” Arabella explained to Hermione in an undertone, under the pretence of scratching Padfoot’s ears. “Go on, Sirius. We’ve got you covered.”
Padfoot lifted his head and jumped off the chair, rearing up onto his hind legs and turning into back into a man.
Mrs Weasley screamed and jumped to her feet. “Sirius Black!”
“Mum!” Ron yelled, diving in front of her. “It’s okay!”
“He’s innocent, Mum.” Ginny added, grabbing her arm. “Really, he is!”
Snape looked furious. “Him?!”
“He is here by my invitation.” Dumbledore said calmly. “As are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other.”
Neither man moved, rigidly glaring at each other, and, like in the Shrieking Shack the year before, it was hard to tell which face held more loathing.
More than once, Hermione had to tighten her empathy as the stand-off continued. Finally, she let out a sigh and lightly nudged the back of Sirius’s leg with her foot.
He glanced back, his face softening when she gave him a pleading look, and stepped forward reluctantly, his hand outstretched.
Snape regarded him for a moment, then shook his hand briefly, letting go as quickly as possible.
“Now, Sirius, I want you to go to my office and wait there.” Dumbledore told him. “Miss Granger, I want you to go with him.”
“Me, sir?” Hermione asked, startled.
“You.” Dumbledore confirmed with a smile. “The password is Drooble’s Best-Blowing Gum.”
Hermione was utterly bewildered, but she didn’t query the request. Sirius, however, seemed to have an idea about what Dumbledore was going to ask of him, but the sidelong glance he threw in her direction told her that he had no idea what her role was in everything.
Nevertheless, he nodded, sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed. “Harry, I have a feeling that what Dumbledore wants will take me away from Hogwarts. Mandy and Arabella will stay with you, but I must do what I can. You understand, don’t you?”
Harry nodded, and Sirius hugged him tightly, pressing a kiss to his messy hair. “Take care, kiddo.” He stood up, and Mandy moved to embrace him.
“Take care of yourself.” She whispered.
“Always do, Talon.” Sirius kissed her forehead, whispered something too quiet for Hermione to hear, and released her. He clapped Ron on the shoulder, shook Ginny’s hand, offered a still shell-shocked Mrs Weasley a sheepish smile, and transformed back into the large black dog.
“Hermione?” Ron asked.
Hermione shrugged silently, following Padfoot out of the hospital wing, up the first flight of stairs to the third floor.
The Dementor had clearly left by now, but the cold chill remained, and Hermione shivered as they reached the gargoyle. She gave it the password and they stepped on to the moving staircase, to be enveloped almost immediately in comforting warmth.
Once they were safely in the empty office, Sirius transformed and collapsed on to one of the sofas with a groan. “We just can’t catch a break, can we?”
Hermione didn’t answer – she knew he didn’t expect one. She paced around the office, examining all of the strange silver instruments on the desks. A few she recognised from books, but most were bizarre and unfamiliar. “What does this one do?” She asked, pointing to a strange spiralled item that looked like a metallic dog had left it.
“No idea.” Sirius answered, not even bothering to look to see which one she meant. “I think the only person that knows what they all do is Dumbledore, and even then James and I had a bet going. I’m still convinced half of them don’t actually do anything.”
“And I’m fairly sure he’s going to win.” James added, appearing beside Hermione. “Lily stayed with Harry,” he added, “but I want to know what Dumbledore wants.”
Hermione looked up as the door to the office opened again and Dumbledore entered. She could tell this would be a more relaxed visit than the last when he offered them a sherbet lemon.
“Now,” Dumbledore said, once they had both declined, “unfortunately, Fudge’s attitude, whilst deplorable, is not entirely unexpected.” He turned to Hermione, gesturing for her to take a seat. “Miss Granger, what is discussed in here is of the utmost secrecy. You cannot tell anyone – not even Mr Potter and Mr Weasley – about what you learn, at least for the moment.”
Hermione nodded, intrigued. “Of course, Headmaster.”
“Good. During the last war, it became apparent to some of us that the Ministry was, perhaps, not doing as much to stop Voldemort as they could be.” Dumbledore began. “On the surface, they appeared to be doing all the right things, but there was prejudice and corruption within the system.”
“Still is, judging by those names Harry gave us.” Sirius muttered. “I could have picked half of those out on the battlefield, simply because I duelled them so often. Sorry, Albus; I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“That’s quite alright, Sirius.” Dumbledore said, waving it off. “I founded an organisation called the Order of the Phoenix to combat Voldemort in secret.”
“A sort of light resistance.” Sirius filled in. “We all joined almost as soon as we graduated.”
Hermione nodded slowly. She had heard rumours of such an organisation, and it certainly explained why Mandy was in Albania when James and Lily were attacked – she had been a junior in the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the time, there was no reason for her to go to Albania. And the way Sirius had worded it made her think it wasn’t for a holiday. “What does this have to do with me, sir?”
Dumbledore smiled at them. “Sirius, I want you to go and alert Remus, and then lie low at Headquarters. Miss Granger, I want you to go with him. I will have your trunk sent ahead, of course.”
Hermione’s mouth fell open, but it was Sirius who spoke. “Headmaster, she’s underage! You can’t really be thinking …”
“I do not intend Miss Granger to join the Order of the Phoenix.” Dumbledore assured him. “After all, the Order is reserved solely for wizards and witches who have left school. However, I would like her to be there for the first part of the first meeting, so she can help us explain your innocence.”
“Couldn’t you do that, sir?” Sirius asked, concern lacing his voice. “There’s another two weeks of term left.”
“But our exams have finished.” Hermione said softly. “And I was actually there in the Shack. I saw Peter. Professor Dumbledore didn’t. Next to Harry, I’ve got the best shot of convincing them.”
Dumbledore nodded approvingly. “Very good, Miss Granger. I would also like you to have some company at Headquarters, Sirius. With your permission …”
Sirius took the slip of parchment Dumbledore held out, a look of puzzlement on his face. “Why would you need my …?” He froze, staring at the parchment in his hand.
“Sirius?” Hermione prompted, alarmed by the sudden paling of his face. “Padfoot?”
Sirius looked up at Dumbledore, his face unreadable. “I don’t want Hermione anywhere near that place. Not unless you plan on completely fumigating it first. And you can’t possibly ask me to go back there!”
“Back where?” Hermione asked urgently. Her first irrational thought was Azkaban, but she dismissed it almost instantly, logic kicking in.
“Long story.” Sirius muttered, still staring at Dumbledore.
“Sirius, the house has been abandoned since 1984,” Dumbledore said patiently, “and there is a house-elf, is there not?”
Sirius grimaced. “Albus, if that house-elf has done any actual work in the last twelve years, I will be very surprised.”
“And,” Dumbledore continued, as though he hadn’t spoken, “as a former auror, I’m sure you are more than a match for anything that may be in that house.”
Sirius still didn’t look happy, but he nodded reluctantly. “Is it safe?”
“As I said, Cornelius’s position in this is not entirely unexpected.” Dumbledore answered. “I have already cast the Fidelius Charm, I am the Secret Keeper. If you would prefer we use somewhere else …”
“No.” Sirius cut in. “No, it’s the perfect place.” He turned to Hermione. “As much as I don’t want you to be stuck there …”
“Go with him, Hermione.” James urged, looking over Sirius’s shoulder. “I don’t know what Dumbledore’s playing at, but I don’t want him there alone.”
“I can handle it.” Hermione insisted, holding out her hand for the piece of parchment. “That’s the address, right?”
“Right.” Sirius sighed, giving in, and handed it over.
Scribbled on the parchment, in Dumbledore’s loopy, narrow handwriting, were the words The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
“You will need to keep that safe.” Dumbledore informed her. “Remus will need to see it before he can see the house. If you could ask him to gather the old crowd, Sirius, the first meeting will be on Saturday at 11 o’clock. Good luck.”
“We’ll need it.” Sirius muttered, standing from the sofa. “I’ll try and get a meeting room useable by Saturday, Headmaster.” He shook Dumbledore’s hand and turned to Hermione. “Beaky’s hiding in the Forest. Go and say goodbye to Harry and Ron, and I’ll meet you down there.”
Hermione nodded and waited for Sirius to transform, before letting them out of the office. They split up on the first floor, Padfoot loping left towards the marble staircase, Hermione running right to the hospital wing.
She burst in just as Mandy was about to give Harry another Dreamless Sleep Potion. “Hang on!”
Mandy looked up, startled. “Hermione, what on earth …?”
“I’m leaving early.” Hermione interrupted breathlessly. “I’m sure you’ll find out later.” She hugged Harry tightly. “Don’t worry, eat properly, get enough sleep …” she lowered her voice “… do me a favour and tell Mandy and Arabella about your parents. I never got a chance to finish explaining.” She kissed his cheek and turned to hug Ron, who was looking uncharacteristically concerned.
“Where are you going?” He asked immediately.
“You’ll find out soon enough.” Hermione hissed, releasing him. She slipped past the twins to talk to Ginny, lowering her voice even further. “Get her?”
“She’s in the jar that you charmed.” Ginny told her in the same tone. “What do I do with her?”
“Make sure she’s got things to eat.” Hermione answered, checking her watch. “Don’t put her anywhere she can see or hear anything important. I’ll find some way to meet you at the beginning of the holidays.” She hugged Ginny and raised her voice. “Bye, everyone.”
Mrs Weasley intercepted her to embrace her. “Do take care, dear. You’re not going home, are you?”
“I have no intention of going anywhere near my father.” Hermione said truthfully and, if Mrs Weasley noticed that Hermione had technically answered a different question, she didn’t comment on it.
After hugging Mandy and Arabella, Hermione left the hospital wing, leaving behind a group of very confused people.
As she reached the first floor, she ran – literally – into Draco Malfoy, who steadied her, looked furtively up and down the corridor, and dragged her into the nearest alcove.
“He’s back.”
For the first time in almost four years, his usually well-crafted mask was nowhere to be found, and Hermione looked into eyes filled with trepidation.
“I know.” She said softly. “Harry told us. They won’t make you take the Mark, will they?”
“I don’t think so.” Draco answered, his right hand gripping his left arm almost unconsciously. “Not yet, at least.”
“If it comes up, tell them that you’re better off without it for now.” Hermione told him. “Tell them it will make people underestimate you or something – you’re a Slytherin, be cunning about it.”
Draco nodded. “And you?”
“I have to go.” Hermione admitted. “I’ll talk to people over summer; see if I can come up with something. I’m sorry, I need to go. Be careful.”
With an apologetic smile, she took off for the doors, running full-tilt towards the forest. She reached the cover of trees in a matter of seconds – a personal record – and slowed to a jog, trying to catch her breath.
A low whistle caught her attention, and she slipped between a few trees to see Sirius standing with Buckbeak. She met the hippogriff’s large orange eyes and bowed. He bowed back and she patted his neck, still breathing heavily.
“Ready?” Sirius asked, casting a glance in the direction of the castle.
“As I’ll ever be.” Hermione pulled a face. “I hate flying.”
“It is a strange experience, I’ll give you that.” Sirius admitted, patting Buckbeak. “But do you really think I’d let you fall?”
Hermione smiled. “Of course not.” Her smile faded quickly. “I’m still afraid of heights though.”
Sirius frowned in confusion. “That’s strange. You never had a problem when you were a baby – I used to take you up on my bike. You loved it.”
“I don’t know.” Hermione admitted. “I’ve just never liked heights.”
“Relax, Hermione.” Sirius said, helping her on to Buckbeak’s back. “There’s no difference between falling ten thousand feet to the jagged rocks below and falling out of bed.”
“Really?” Hermione asked as he jumped up behind her.
“Really.” Sirius confirmed. He paused, gathering the makeshift reins. “Except for the landing at the end, that is.”
Hermione blanched, leaning back against him. “Right, thanks for that.”
“Sorry.” Sirius hesitated. “Would you rather sit behind me?”
“No.” Hermione answered hastily. “No, I feel marginally safer here.”
“Alright.” Sirius cast a glance at the rapidly darkening sky. “Off we go.” He nudged Buckbeak’s flank with his heels, and the hippogriff tossed his head, before breaking into a gallop.
The wings rose beneath them, Hermione closed her eyes tightly, and they took off, soaring into the night.
As per her promise to Harry, she had left out the wand connection and everything that they had done, making it sound like Harry had grabbed the Cup through a lucky guess and returned Cedric out of his own initiative – it wasn’t too much of a stretch; Harry’s luck was notorious in dangerous situations and he would never have left Cedric there if he could help it, even without his last request.
Ron had sunk, white-faced, into the seat beside her, staring wordlessly across the room, where curtains hid Harry from view. By now, he had taken a Dreamless Sleep Potion, for which Hermione was grateful, because it meant that he couldn’t see, or sense, the sympathetic and pitying glances Mrs Weasley was throwing in his direction.
Hermione herself stared at her lap, unable to meet anyone’s gaze, stroking Padfoot’s head rhythmically. After a few minutes, he lifted his head, whining softly, and Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow.
In response, he jumped down and padded over to the curtained bed. Mrs Weasley half-rose in protest, but Ron squeezed his mother’s hand and shook his head.
Hermione followed him, slipping through the curtains in time to see Padfoot jump onto the bed, curling up at Harry’s feet. He looked over at Mandy and Arabella, and whined again.
Hermione smiled slightly. “Right.” She whispered. “Of course. Mandy, Arabella, could I have a word please? In private?”
Both women looked reluctant to leave Harry’s side, but the silent plea in Hermione’s eyes convinced them, and they rose from their seats by Harry’s head, and followed Hermione into the main ward.
“Madam Pomfrey?” Hermione asked quietly. “Is there somewhere I can talk to Mandy and Arabella in private?”
Madam Pomfrey looked up from checking over the real Mad-Eye Moody. “You can use my office if you wish, Miss Granger.”
“Thank you.” Hermione led the two women into the office and looked around carefully, checking for any portraits that could report back to the Headmaster. There were none, so she locked and silenced the door, before turning to face them.
“What’s wrong, Hermione?” Mandy asked.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Hermione assured her, allowing herself a smile as Lily appeared beside her. “There’s just a few things that you should know. First of all, I’m an empath.”
Unlike when she told Ron and Ginny, there was no sudden spike of emotion in the air. Both women simply smiled at her, as though they already knew.
“Sirius told us that much while we were waiting in Dumbledore’s office.” Arabella told her gently. “He also said there was something else, but that was when you arrived.”
Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath. “Well, there’s only really one way to do this. James and Lily are alive.”
Beside her, Lily burst out laughing at the looks of utter shock that appeared on their faces. “Okay, they win!”
“Be nice, Lily.” Hermione chided. “They’re in shock, and I hardly blame them!”
“Hermione,” Arabella said weakly, “did you just say what I think you said?”
“Yes, I did.” Hermione answered, before sighing heavily. “Dammit, Ginny took my bag back to the dorms, didn’t she?”
“She did, dear.” Lily confirmed. “And the transcript was in there.”
“I know.” Hermione ran a hand through her hair. “Ask me something. Something only Lily would know.”
Mandy and Arabella exchanged a wary glance. “There aren’t many things,” Mandy said slowly. “Everything I can think of, other people knew as well …” She hesitated, before pulling a face. “No, there is something. I never told anyone else, but Lily and I spoke a week before she was … killed.”
“Kidnapped.” Hermione corrected helpfully. “What about?”
Mandy raised an eyebrow. “You tell me.”
Hermione turned to Lily, who looked both guilty and upset. “She told me she was worried because Peter was acting out of sorts lately … she was reconsidering going to Albania … worrying about him. I …” She sighed. “I thought that … I thought he was planning to propose … and I told her as such.”
Hermione felt the colour drain from her face. “Oh Merlin …” She turned to Mandy. “You’re not going to make me say it, are you?”
Mandy was just as pale, but her face was set. “Unfortunately, Hermione, yes, I am.”
“You’re a glutton for punishment.” Hermione muttered, catching her arm. Leaning in, she repeated Lily’s words in a whisper. “Believe me?” She asked, pulling back.
Mandy nodded, closing her eyes. “I believe you.”
Arabella stared between them. “Okay, first of all, what did you say? Second of all, how is this possible?”
Before Hermione had time to explain, Mandy raised a hand. “Listen.”
Hermione frowned, flicking her wand at the door. “Finite Incantatem.”
Raised voices were approaching the Hospital Wing. Silently agreeing to put the discussion on hold, the three left Pomfrey’s office to see that the Weasleys were on their feet, staring at the doors.
“They’ll wake him if they don’t shut up.” Arabella hissed, moving to Harry’s side as he began to shift. She ran a hand through his messy hair, humming under her breath, and he stilled almost instantly.
“What are they shouting about?” Ron asked quietly. “Nothing else can have happened, can it?”
“I didn’t hear anything on my way.” Ginny said, making Hermione jump. “I got back about a minute ago.” She said to her questioning glance. “I left your bag on your bed.”
“Thanks.” Hermione moved over to Harry as well, resting a hand on Padfoot’s head.
“That’s Fudge’s voice.” Mrs Weasley whispered. “And Minerva McGonagall’s, isn’t it?”
“It is.” Mandy confirmed. “But why they’re arguing, I don’t know.”
“Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva …”
“You should never have brought it inside the castle!”
The doors to the hospital wing burst open, causing everyone to jump. Padfoot jumped down from the bed to sit at Hermione’s heels as she sunk into a chair beside Harry, overcome by a sudden surge of anger.
Cornelius Fudge stormed in, McGonagall and Snape on his heels. “Where is Dumbledore?!” He demanded.
“Minister, this is a hospital wing!” Mrs Weasley protested. “And he’s not here – don’t you think you should …?”
“What happened?” Dumbledore interrupted, sweeping in with a swirl of purple robes. “Minister, why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I’m surprised at you – I asked you to guard Barty Crouch …”
“There’s no need to stand guard over him anymore, Headmaster!” McGonagall shrieked. “The Minister has seen to that!”
Hermione swallowed nervously. She had never seen her Head of House lose control like this. Her hair was coming loose from its normally tight bun, her fists were clenched and she was almost shaking with fury.
“When we told Minister Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight’s events,” Snape explained, “he seemed to feel his own personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a Dementor to accompany him into the castle.”
Mrs Weasley let out a gasp and pulled Ginny into her arms, eliciting a strangled protest. “Mum! I’m fine!”
“You’ve been in and out of this wing, Ginny; what if …?” Mrs Weasley could not continue, clinging to her daughter.
“I told him you would not agree!” McGonagall insisted, apparently oblivious to the byplay. “I told him you would never allow Dementors to set foot inside the castle, but …”
“My dear woman!” Fudge interrupted loudly. “As Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a potentially dangerous …”
McGonagall’s voice drowned him out, however. “The moment that … that … thing entered the room, it swooped down on Barty Crouch and … and …”
Hermione shuddered, ice flooding her veins. Padfoot whimpered at her feet, and she whistled softly, patting the chair beside her. He jumped up next to her, half-lying across her lap, and she rested a hand on his head again, feeling him shivering.
Luckily, she didn’t need eye contact to simply push words into someone’s head. It’s alright. You’re alright. They won’t come near you. It’s gone now.
Again, she wasn’t entirely sure he could hear her, but he definitely seemed to relax, at least physically.
“By all accounts, he is no loss!” Fudge blustered, ignoring everyone else in the room. “He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus tell me, he seemed to think he was doing it all on You-Know-Who’s instructions!”
“Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions.” Dumbledore confirmed. “Those people's deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body.”
Fudge looked as though he’d been hit with something heavy. “You-Know-Who … returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore …"
“As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you," Dumbledore said, "we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban and how Voldemort – learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins – went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return.”
Hermione was astonished to see a smile beginning to appear on Fudge’s face. She’d never had huge faith in the man’s intelligence, but surely even he could see that this was nothing to smile about!
“See here, Dumbledore, you – you can't seriously believe that You-Know-Who - back? Come now, come now … certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders - but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore …"
After five minutes of debate, all that had been established was that Fudge believed every word that Rita had written and that there was no way Voldemort could have returned.
Harry had woken up, and joined in with gusto – Hermione had to hold Padfoot back when Fudge suggested that Harry’s word wasn’t good enough, and Bill had to jump in to keep Mandy and Arabella from cursing the man, when he insisted that Harry was either cracking up or attention-seeking.
Hermione wanted to join in, to remind Fudge that just last year, he was warning people that Sirius might be looking for Voldemort (so he clearly believed he was alive at some point), but she held her tongue, unwilling to draw too much attention to herself – or, more importantly, to the illegal Animagus sitting beside her.
Snape even went as far as to show Fudge his Dark Mark, admitting to being a spy during the last war, but the Minister refused to listen.
Finally, Fudge stormed out of the hospital wing, dropping Harry’s Triwizard winnings on his bedside table.
Dumbledore sighed heavily, turning to face the remaining occupants, all of whom were standing, or sitting, in stunned silence. “There is work to be done. Molly, am I right in assuming that I can count on you and Arthur?”
Mrs Weasley’s eyes were wet with tears, fear encircling her like a black cloud, and Hermione’s heart went out to the woman who had already lost her parents, brothers and sister to this maniac. When she spoke, however, her voice was firm and steady. “You can. We know what Fudge is.”
For a second, Hermione wondered what she meant, but then she remembered what Dumbledore had said to Fudge not minutes ago. “You are blinded by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius. You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood. You fail to recognise that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be.”
So the Minister of Magic was a blood-snob. That boded well for Muggle-born students.
“It’s Arthur’s fondness for Muggles that has held him back all these years.” Mrs Weasley continued, proving her right. “Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride.”
“Then I need to send a message to Arthur.” Dumbledore concluded. “All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well-placed to contact others at the Ministry.”
“You’ll have at least two other Heads of Department, Headmaster.” Mandy said softly. “Amos won’t take this lying down. He may not actively join the cause, but he will believe us, and that’s better than nothing.”
“That’s only one.” Arabella said, looking puzzled. “Who’s the other?”
Mandy allowed herself a self-satisfied smirk. “Well, there’s been some investigating into Ludo Bagman. You remember that owl I got a month ago?”
Arabella nodded. “I don’t think you ever told me what it said.”
“Well, it informed me that Bagman was in a lot of trouble with the goblins – gambling debts – and that he was trying to rig certain games to pay them off.” Mandy explained. “They left him in place to finish commentating the Tournament, but as of two hours ago, he is unemployed.”
“So …” Arabella prompted.
Mandy’s smirk grew slightly. “So you are looking at the new Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”
Arabella gaped at her. “Wow … Congratulations – I was not expecting that.”
“Neither was I.” Mandy admitted, before looking back at Dumbledore. “I’ll see what I can do, Albus, but I’m not leaving Harry’s side just yet.”
“Dad can handle it.” Bill assured her, standing up. “I’ll go and tell him now.”
“Excellent. Tell him what happened.” Dumbledore instructed. “Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering in the Ministry …”
“Leave it to me.” Bill slipped his cloak on and kissed Ginny and his mother, before moving over to clap Harry on the shoulder, hug Hermione, and shake Dumbledore’s hand, before leaving the hospital wing.
“Minerva, I want to see Hagrid in my office in an hour. Madame Maxime as well, if she wouldn’t mind.”
Professor McGonagall nodded, her lips still very thin, and swept out of the room.
“Poppy,” Dumbledore said, “would you be so kind as to go up to Professor Moody’s office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky, in considerable distress. Do what you can for her and then take her down to the kitchens – Dobby will look after her for us.”
Madam Pomfrey looked very confused, but did as she was told, whereupon Professor Dumbledore closed the doors carefully, and made sure Madam Pomfrey was out of earshot, before speaking again.
“Now, it is time for two of our number to recognise each other for what they are. Sirius?”
Mandy put a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder, preventing him from getting up, and she and Arabella rounded his hospital bed to stand in front of Hermione.
“Molly’s pretty handy with a wand if she thinks her children are threatened.” Arabella explained to Hermione in an undertone, under the pretence of scratching Padfoot’s ears. “Go on, Sirius. We’ve got you covered.”
Padfoot lifted his head and jumped off the chair, rearing up onto his hind legs and turning into back into a man.
Mrs Weasley screamed and jumped to her feet. “Sirius Black!”
“Mum!” Ron yelled, diving in front of her. “It’s okay!”
“He’s innocent, Mum.” Ginny added, grabbing her arm. “Really, he is!”
Snape looked furious. “Him?!”
“He is here by my invitation.” Dumbledore said calmly. “As are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other.”
Neither man moved, rigidly glaring at each other, and, like in the Shrieking Shack the year before, it was hard to tell which face held more loathing.
More than once, Hermione had to tighten her empathy as the stand-off continued. Finally, she let out a sigh and lightly nudged the back of Sirius’s leg with her foot.
He glanced back, his face softening when she gave him a pleading look, and stepped forward reluctantly, his hand outstretched.
Snape regarded him for a moment, then shook his hand briefly, letting go as quickly as possible.
“Now, Sirius, I want you to go to my office and wait there.” Dumbledore told him. “Miss Granger, I want you to go with him.”
“Me, sir?” Hermione asked, startled.
“You.” Dumbledore confirmed with a smile. “The password is Drooble’s Best-Blowing Gum.”
Hermione was utterly bewildered, but she didn’t query the request. Sirius, however, seemed to have an idea about what Dumbledore was going to ask of him, but the sidelong glance he threw in her direction told her that he had no idea what her role was in everything.
Nevertheless, he nodded, sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed. “Harry, I have a feeling that what Dumbledore wants will take me away from Hogwarts. Mandy and Arabella will stay with you, but I must do what I can. You understand, don’t you?”
Harry nodded, and Sirius hugged him tightly, pressing a kiss to his messy hair. “Take care, kiddo.” He stood up, and Mandy moved to embrace him.
“Take care of yourself.” She whispered.
“Always do, Talon.” Sirius kissed her forehead, whispered something too quiet for Hermione to hear, and released her. He clapped Ron on the shoulder, shook Ginny’s hand, offered a still shell-shocked Mrs Weasley a sheepish smile, and transformed back into the large black dog.
“Hermione?” Ron asked.
Hermione shrugged silently, following Padfoot out of the hospital wing, up the first flight of stairs to the third floor.
The Dementor had clearly left by now, but the cold chill remained, and Hermione shivered as they reached the gargoyle. She gave it the password and they stepped on to the moving staircase, to be enveloped almost immediately in comforting warmth.
Once they were safely in the empty office, Sirius transformed and collapsed on to one of the sofas with a groan. “We just can’t catch a break, can we?”
Hermione didn’t answer – she knew he didn’t expect one. She paced around the office, examining all of the strange silver instruments on the desks. A few she recognised from books, but most were bizarre and unfamiliar. “What does this one do?” She asked, pointing to a strange spiralled item that looked like a metallic dog had left it.
“No idea.” Sirius answered, not even bothering to look to see which one she meant. “I think the only person that knows what they all do is Dumbledore, and even then James and I had a bet going. I’m still convinced half of them don’t actually do anything.”
“And I’m fairly sure he’s going to win.” James added, appearing beside Hermione. “Lily stayed with Harry,” he added, “but I want to know what Dumbledore wants.”
Hermione looked up as the door to the office opened again and Dumbledore entered. She could tell this would be a more relaxed visit than the last when he offered them a sherbet lemon.
“Now,” Dumbledore said, once they had both declined, “unfortunately, Fudge’s attitude, whilst deplorable, is not entirely unexpected.” He turned to Hermione, gesturing for her to take a seat. “Miss Granger, what is discussed in here is of the utmost secrecy. You cannot tell anyone – not even Mr Potter and Mr Weasley – about what you learn, at least for the moment.”
Hermione nodded, intrigued. “Of course, Headmaster.”
“Good. During the last war, it became apparent to some of us that the Ministry was, perhaps, not doing as much to stop Voldemort as they could be.” Dumbledore began. “On the surface, they appeared to be doing all the right things, but there was prejudice and corruption within the system.”
“Still is, judging by those names Harry gave us.” Sirius muttered. “I could have picked half of those out on the battlefield, simply because I duelled them so often. Sorry, Albus; I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“That’s quite alright, Sirius.” Dumbledore said, waving it off. “I founded an organisation called the Order of the Phoenix to combat Voldemort in secret.”
“A sort of light resistance.” Sirius filled in. “We all joined almost as soon as we graduated.”
Hermione nodded slowly. She had heard rumours of such an organisation, and it certainly explained why Mandy was in Albania when James and Lily were attacked – she had been a junior in the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the time, there was no reason for her to go to Albania. And the way Sirius had worded it made her think it wasn’t for a holiday. “What does this have to do with me, sir?”
Dumbledore smiled at them. “Sirius, I want you to go and alert Remus, and then lie low at Headquarters. Miss Granger, I want you to go with him. I will have your trunk sent ahead, of course.”
Hermione’s mouth fell open, but it was Sirius who spoke. “Headmaster, she’s underage! You can’t really be thinking …”
“I do not intend Miss Granger to join the Order of the Phoenix.” Dumbledore assured him. “After all, the Order is reserved solely for wizards and witches who have left school. However, I would like her to be there for the first part of the first meeting, so she can help us explain your innocence.”
“Couldn’t you do that, sir?” Sirius asked, concern lacing his voice. “There’s another two weeks of term left.”
“But our exams have finished.” Hermione said softly. “And I was actually there in the Shack. I saw Peter. Professor Dumbledore didn’t. Next to Harry, I’ve got the best shot of convincing them.”
Dumbledore nodded approvingly. “Very good, Miss Granger. I would also like you to have some company at Headquarters, Sirius. With your permission …”
Sirius took the slip of parchment Dumbledore held out, a look of puzzlement on his face. “Why would you need my …?” He froze, staring at the parchment in his hand.
“Sirius?” Hermione prompted, alarmed by the sudden paling of his face. “Padfoot?”
Sirius looked up at Dumbledore, his face unreadable. “I don’t want Hermione anywhere near that place. Not unless you plan on completely fumigating it first. And you can’t possibly ask me to go back there!”
“Back where?” Hermione asked urgently. Her first irrational thought was Azkaban, but she dismissed it almost instantly, logic kicking in.
“Long story.” Sirius muttered, still staring at Dumbledore.
“Sirius, the house has been abandoned since 1984,” Dumbledore said patiently, “and there is a house-elf, is there not?”
Sirius grimaced. “Albus, if that house-elf has done any actual work in the last twelve years, I will be very surprised.”
“And,” Dumbledore continued, as though he hadn’t spoken, “as a former auror, I’m sure you are more than a match for anything that may be in that house.”
Sirius still didn’t look happy, but he nodded reluctantly. “Is it safe?”
“As I said, Cornelius’s position in this is not entirely unexpected.” Dumbledore answered. “I have already cast the Fidelius Charm, I am the Secret Keeper. If you would prefer we use somewhere else …”
“No.” Sirius cut in. “No, it’s the perfect place.” He turned to Hermione. “As much as I don’t want you to be stuck there …”
“Go with him, Hermione.” James urged, looking over Sirius’s shoulder. “I don’t know what Dumbledore’s playing at, but I don’t want him there alone.”
“I can handle it.” Hermione insisted, holding out her hand for the piece of parchment. “That’s the address, right?”
“Right.” Sirius sighed, giving in, and handed it over.
Scribbled on the parchment, in Dumbledore’s loopy, narrow handwriting, were the words The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
“You will need to keep that safe.” Dumbledore informed her. “Remus will need to see it before he can see the house. If you could ask him to gather the old crowd, Sirius, the first meeting will be on Saturday at 11 o’clock. Good luck.”
“We’ll need it.” Sirius muttered, standing from the sofa. “I’ll try and get a meeting room useable by Saturday, Headmaster.” He shook Dumbledore’s hand and turned to Hermione. “Beaky’s hiding in the Forest. Go and say goodbye to Harry and Ron, and I’ll meet you down there.”
Hermione nodded and waited for Sirius to transform, before letting them out of the office. They split up on the first floor, Padfoot loping left towards the marble staircase, Hermione running right to the hospital wing.
She burst in just as Mandy was about to give Harry another Dreamless Sleep Potion. “Hang on!”
Mandy looked up, startled. “Hermione, what on earth …?”
“I’m leaving early.” Hermione interrupted breathlessly. “I’m sure you’ll find out later.” She hugged Harry tightly. “Don’t worry, eat properly, get enough sleep …” she lowered her voice “… do me a favour and tell Mandy and Arabella about your parents. I never got a chance to finish explaining.” She kissed his cheek and turned to hug Ron, who was looking uncharacteristically concerned.
“Where are you going?” He asked immediately.
“You’ll find out soon enough.” Hermione hissed, releasing him. She slipped past the twins to talk to Ginny, lowering her voice even further. “Get her?”
“She’s in the jar that you charmed.” Ginny told her in the same tone. “What do I do with her?”
“Make sure she’s got things to eat.” Hermione answered, checking her watch. “Don’t put her anywhere she can see or hear anything important. I’ll find some way to meet you at the beginning of the holidays.” She hugged Ginny and raised her voice. “Bye, everyone.”
Mrs Weasley intercepted her to embrace her. “Do take care, dear. You’re not going home, are you?”
“I have no intention of going anywhere near my father.” Hermione said truthfully and, if Mrs Weasley noticed that Hermione had technically answered a different question, she didn’t comment on it.
After hugging Mandy and Arabella, Hermione left the hospital wing, leaving behind a group of very confused people.
As she reached the first floor, she ran – literally – into Draco Malfoy, who steadied her, looked furtively up and down the corridor, and dragged her into the nearest alcove.
“He’s back.”
For the first time in almost four years, his usually well-crafted mask was nowhere to be found, and Hermione looked into eyes filled with trepidation.
“I know.” She said softly. “Harry told us. They won’t make you take the Mark, will they?”
“I don’t think so.” Draco answered, his right hand gripping his left arm almost unconsciously. “Not yet, at least.”
“If it comes up, tell them that you’re better off without it for now.” Hermione told him. “Tell them it will make people underestimate you or something – you’re a Slytherin, be cunning about it.”
Draco nodded. “And you?”
“I have to go.” Hermione admitted. “I’ll talk to people over summer; see if I can come up with something. I’m sorry, I need to go. Be careful.”
With an apologetic smile, she took off for the doors, running full-tilt towards the forest. She reached the cover of trees in a matter of seconds – a personal record – and slowed to a jog, trying to catch her breath.
A low whistle caught her attention, and she slipped between a few trees to see Sirius standing with Buckbeak. She met the hippogriff’s large orange eyes and bowed. He bowed back and she patted his neck, still breathing heavily.
“Ready?” Sirius asked, casting a glance in the direction of the castle.
“As I’ll ever be.” Hermione pulled a face. “I hate flying.”
“It is a strange experience, I’ll give you that.” Sirius admitted, patting Buckbeak. “But do you really think I’d let you fall?”
Hermione smiled. “Of course not.” Her smile faded quickly. “I’m still afraid of heights though.”
Sirius frowned in confusion. “That’s strange. You never had a problem when you were a baby – I used to take you up on my bike. You loved it.”
“I don’t know.” Hermione admitted. “I’ve just never liked heights.”
“Relax, Hermione.” Sirius said, helping her on to Buckbeak’s back. “There’s no difference between falling ten thousand feet to the jagged rocks below and falling out of bed.”
“Really?” Hermione asked as he jumped up behind her.
“Really.” Sirius confirmed. He paused, gathering the makeshift reins. “Except for the landing at the end, that is.”
Hermione blanched, leaning back against him. “Right, thanks for that.”
“Sorry.” Sirius hesitated. “Would you rather sit behind me?”
“No.” Hermione answered hastily. “No, I feel marginally safer here.”
“Alright.” Sirius cast a glance at the rapidly darkening sky. “Off we go.” He nudged Buckbeak’s flank with his heels, and the hippogriff tossed his head, before breaking into a gallop.
The wings rose beneath them, Hermione closed her eyes tightly, and they took off, soaring into the night.
