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[Castling] Chapter 20
🕑 Added 2024-11-16 16:30:40 +0000 UTCHermione was so upset that Harry hadn’t found anything about Flamel that she threw herself back into the search with renewed determination, practically living in the library. I don’t even know when she managed to sleep. Meanwhile, Harry was tearing himself between Quidditch practices, lessons, the library, and even popping over to see Hagrid.
Sometimes, it felt like he was deliberately overloading himself just to collapse into bed and knock out, avoiding his dreams. Ever since that mirror, he’d been waking up screaming every night, but he refused to go to the hospital wing. After a week of this, I gave up and went there myself. Told Madam Pomfrey everything, and she handed me a vial of something to help. “Five drops before bed,” she said. “No need for the whole dose.” It worked a treat—Harry finally got some proper sleep, and his face started looking less like death warmed up.
When he started feeling better, he spent even more time in the library with Hermione. And then the big news hit—Snape would be refereeing the next match. You can imagine the uproar. Wood started running drills every day to make sure Snape couldn’t find any excuse to fault us and, hopefully, force him to be fair. Hermione, on the other hand, looked like she’d been hit by a Stunning Spell.
“You can’t play,” she declared firmly one afternoon. “He might try something again, and there’s no way I could reach him in the air. What do we do? Maybe we could ask the twins for some Puking Pastilles? You could end up in the hospital wing ‘accidentally’ poisoned, and the match would go on without you?” She glanced at me, clearly hoping I’d back her up.
“Oh, brilliant idea,” I said, rolling my eyes. “And then Harry can spend the day chucking his guts up. Why stop there? Fancy breaking his legs, just to be sure?”
“Hold on, that’s not an option,” Harry cut in. “If I’m not on the pitch, the team won’t play. I’ll take the risk. I have to—for everyone else!”
“But, Harry,” Hermione said hesitantly, “what about Professor Snape?”
“Hermione,” I snapped, noticing Harry’s resolve waver under her worry, “why do you keep winding yourself up, acting like Snape’s some villain out of a storybook? Think about it—why would he risk it? He’s had plenty of chances to deal with Harry quietly, like over the holidays when Harry was wandering about the castle alone at night. Why would he start a grand drama now?”
“Ron?” Hermione gasped, shocked at my tone.
“What? I’m sick of it!” I said. “Snape’s a teacher—a bloody awful one, but still a teacher! He’s been here ten years, and Gryffindor’s won the House Cup loads of times. Funny how he hasn’t poisoned Charlie or cursed anyone else. Why would he suddenly go after Harry? What’s he want with a trophy anyway? Do you really think he’s mad enough to kill someone over a hunk of metal?”
“But I saw…” Hermione started, her voice wobbling.
“And I saw you set fire to his robes,” I said with a smirk. “Looked a lot like you were trying to roast the man alive. All because of a bad grade, maybe? Or were you just saving your friend? Hard to tell without context, isn’t it? Point is, Hermione, sometimes things aren’t what they seem.”
“Ron, stop it,” Harry said sharply, pulling Hermione into a hug. He looked serious, and his eyes held a hint of disapproval. “Hermione, don’t cry. I know you’re just trying to help. And Ron might be onto something. Snape’s a nasty git, but… he’s not a murderer. At least, I hope not.”
“I just worry about you two so much,” Hermione sniffed, and I immediately regretted being so harsh. It wasn’t her fault I’d had enough of these childish conspiracy theories.
“Hermione,” I said gently, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and resting her head against me, “you’re already indispensable to us. No need to overdo it. We worry about you too, don’t we, Harry?”
“Yeah,” Harry said earnestly, handing her a handkerchief and, for some reason, a Chocolate Frog. “Here, take this.”
“Thanks,” Hermione murmured, dabbing her eyes before managing a shy smile. Whatever she’d been about to say was interrupted by Neville falling through the doorway in a heap. We rushed over to help him up.
Turned out Malfoy had hit him with a Leg-Locker Curse, and poor Neville had hopped all the way to the tower.
“I’m not going to the professors,” he muttered, stubbornly refusing Hermione’s attempts to get him to report it. “I’ve had enough trouble as it is.”
“Well, we’re going out, aren’t we, Harry?” I said, stretching dramatically.
“Oh no, you’re not!” Hermione cut in, completely forgetting she’d been upset a minute ago. “You’ll lose house points!”
“I earned Gryffindor thirty points yesterday,” I said with a grin. “I can spare ten for a good cause.”
“Ron! Harry, say something!” she demanded, glaring between the two of us.
“I’d give up fifteen if I’d earned them,” Harry shrugged. “But I’ve only got ten.”
“I’ll lend you some,” I joked, and we both headed for the door without a second thought.
“They’ll take thirty, you’ll see!” Hermione called after us, though she didn’t actually try to stop us.
We caught Malfoy and his goons just as they were slinking back to the dungeons. Harry, hidden under the Cloak, conjured a patch of ice, sending all three of them skidding straight into the wall. Before they could recover, I hit them with some well-placed jinxes—binding their arms, locking their legs, and throwing in a good old Tickling Charm for good measure. Watching them hop around was brilliant. Harry even sent a few Stinging Hexes at their backsides for extra motivation.
“Touch one of ours again,” I whispered in Malfoy’s ear while Harry stood invisibly beside me, “and I’ll set the twins on you. Enjoy walking around with green hair and firecrackers up your arse. Back off, Malfoy, if you know what’s good for you.”
Back in the common room, I dropped into a chair with a satisfied grin. “No worries, love,” I said as Hermione rolled her eyes at me. “Not even a single point docked.”
“Catch, Neville!” Harry called, tossing him a Chocolate Frog, before tucking into his own snack and cheerfully recounting our adventure. Hermione kept shooting us disapproving looks, but at least she held her tongue.
“Cheers,” Neville said with a nod, before turning to pepper Harry with questions. No one offered me any sweets—everyone knew I wasn’t keen on magical chocolate. “Harry, take the card. You’re collecting them, aren’t you?” Neville added as he got up to head to the dorm. “I’ll go tell the others.”
“Thanks, Neville!” Harry called after him, before suddenly shouting, “Oh, Dumbled—Ron! I remember! I’ve got it!” His voice was so loud that Hermione and I both jumped.
“And what’s the point of bellowing like that, Mr. Potter?” I said in my best Snape impression, cold and drawling. “If you’ve finally managed to locate a brain cell, there’s no need to make such a racket about it. Take pride in silence.”
It was a spot-on imitation, and Hermione burst out laughing, while Harry let out an embarrassed snort.
“What’s up, Harry?” Hermione asked, still giggling.
“Oh! Right! Look here.” Harry suddenly shoved a card in her face, speaking quickly and excitedly. “Read it. Go on!”
“Wait here. Don’t move,” Hermione ordered, her tone serious now, before sprinting off to the girls’ dormitory. Harry and I exchanged puzzled looks but didn’t say anything. She was back in no time, clutching a hefty book.
“I picked this up for a bit of light reading,” she said while flipping frantically through its pages. “Here—look at this.”
“Why don’t you just explain it in your own words?” I suggested lazily, shifting in my chair to get comfortable.
Blah blah blah—Flamel. Blah blah blah—Philosopher’s Stone.
Blah blah blah—Snape. Villain extraordinaire. Potential thief, scoundrel, and all-around git, apparently in desperate need of gold, eternal youth, and immortality.
“I told you! I was right, and you were wrong, Ron!” Hermione’s smug expression practically screamed as she glared at me in triumph. Meanwhile, Harry was scratching his head, looking thoroughly confused. Honestly, the pair of them. Absolute kids.
The next morning, we legged it to Hagrid’s, and the pieces finally fell into place.
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On the way to the pitch, it felt like the entire school had turned out. Even the usual no-shows for Quidditch were here.
We grabbed seats in the stands with Neville. Dean and Seamus were a few rows below us.
“Don’t forget, Ron: Locomotor Mortis,” Hermione fussed, clearly on edge. “I’ll keep an eye on Harry, and you keep an eye on Professor Snape.”
“Oh, relax already, Hermione,” I said, scanning the crowd. “Look over there—Dumbledore’s here. Snape won’t try anything with him watching. He’s not that daft.”
“Brilliant!” she exclaimed, visibly relaxing once she spotted Dumbledore.
“Oh, Weasley, sorry, didn’t see you there,” Malfoy sneered as he jabbed me on the crown of my head with his elbow while squeezing past.
“Noted,” I replied just as snidely, rubbing my head. “We’ll let it slide—for the feeble-minded.”
“Think Potter’s going to put on another show today?” Malfoy drawled as he settled in. “He’s brilliant at making himself look like a right prat. Anyone want to wager how long it’ll take him to fall off his broom? I’m giving three-to-one odds.”
“Fancy betting he catches the Snitch and your lot loses?” I shot back with a smirk.
“Bet with you?” Malfoy feigned shock. “Didn’t know you had a Knut to spare. Better hold onto it—your whole family might need it to eat for a month this summer.”
“Cheers for the concern,” I said evenly, clamping my hand over Hermione’s before she could jump in. “Tell you what, I’ll wager twenty Galleons that Harry catches the Snitch and you lot lose. Make it five-to-one odds he does it before the first goal.”
“Ron, have you gone mad?” Hermione hissed at me, but I was too fired up to care. Worst case, I’d go back to Hogwarts in rags. Or borrow some cash off Harry.
“You’re on,” Malfoy said immediately, clearly relishing his imagined victory. “Crabbe, shake on it.”
“Everyone saw that, yeah?” I said loudly, glancing around. “Just in case Draco’s mummy tells him he’s not allowed to pay up later.” I shot Malfoy a wicked grin before turning away.
The match kicked off, and Snape started docking points from our team for every little thing. Meanwhile, Malfoy kept goading Neville, but I tuned him out. All my focus was on the game—it was my finances on the line, after all.
“Come on, Harry!” I yelled with everyone else.
“Ron, look! Harry’s seen something!” Hermione shouted excitedly, noticing Harry dive sharply.
“Looks like your Potter’s spotted a Knut on the pitch,” Malfoy sneered, dragging out his words. “Perfect—he can pay me back with it.”
“Come on, Harry!” we roared… and then he raised his hand, the Snitch flapping between his fingers.
“You won, Ron,” Neville whispered in awe, before yelling, “Gryffindor won! Ron won!”
“Move it, toad,” Malfoy snarled as he stormed off, but Neville, still buzzing on adrenaline, let out an unexpected growl and tackled him over the benches. Crabbe and Goyle were so stunned they barely started whacking Neville before the rest of us joined the fray.
The brawl was glorious. By the time we all staggered to the hospital wing, we were practically carrying Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy trailed behind, looking miserable, and I kept giving him little prods to keep him moving.
“Don’t forget, Draco. That’s a hundred Galleons,” I called over my shoulder with a big grin.
“Won’t bankrupt me,” Malfoy sniffed.
“Good to hear,” I replied cheerfully. “That’ll keep my family fed for about three summers. Anyway, if you need an excuse, just call it charity work—your mum’ll get it. Oh, and remember: honour debts need settling within ten days. Clock’s ticking.”
Whistling, I headed back to the Gryffindor common room, feeling as light as air. It was like liquid sunshine was flowing through my veins. Cheers to you, Marina, wherever you are. Hope you’ve got a lover who’ll pull the stars down for you.
The Gryffindor common room was in full-on celebration mode—cheering for both the Quidditch win and the brawl that followed. When I walked in, the place got even rowdier, especially Fred and George. Those sly fox grins of theirs… they clearly already knew about my winnings. Not that I minded. I’d only use a bit to buy Luna some fancy hair clips or Ginny a trinket, and the rest I’d pool with the twins—they were sharp and lucky, after all.
Everything was fine until Harry ruined the mood. He pulled us aside, looking all secretive, and launched into a dramatic account of tailing Snape.
“He was threatening Quirrell!” Harry said, voice brimming with excitement. “Trying to get him to spill how to get past Fluffy. But Quirrell held his ground—didn’t say a word. Snape warned him it wasn’t over and that he’d get answers eventually. They also talked about the other traps. Snape definitely knows about the Philosopher’s Stone, just like we thought!” he concluded.
“So the Stone’s safe as long as Professor Quirrell stays quiet?” Hermione pieced it together quickly.
“Looks that way,” Harry said, frowning thoughtfully.
“We’ll need to keep an eye on both of them,” Hermione decided firmly. “But for now, let’s get back to the party—everyone’s waiting for you, Harry. By the way, we’ve had the most…”
While Harry had been sneaking around the third floor eavesdropping on Fluffy, Hermione and I had started prepping for exams. I couldn’t help feeling a bit down, though—it wasn’t the done thing to go home during the Easter holidays. One bright spot: Malfoy paid his debt without even throwing it in my face. Still, Malfoy and Snape were behaving oddly. Always playing the villain, yet their vibes felt... normal. Like it was all an act or some status thing. Who could tell?
Even though it was the holidays, we spent most of our time in the library for a change. Until… we spotted a flustered-looking Hagrid.
“What’s he doing here?” Hermione perked up immediately. Harry, bored out of his mind with revision, jumped at the distraction.
“Dragons?” he asked loudly when Hermione came back to our table, drawing a glare from Madam Pince. “Are you sure?” he added in a half-whisper.
“Shh,” Hermione hissed. “Dragons,” she confirmed with a nod. “He checked out ‘Dragon Species of Britain and Ireland’ and ‘From Egg to Inferno: A Beginner’s Guide to Dragon Keeping’.”
“Blimey,” Harry breathed, wide-eyed. “He’s always said he wants a dragon… We need to go see him. Now.”
“But he couldn’t actually get a dragon, could he?” Hermione asked uncertainly. “Where would he even get one?”
“That’s not the point, Hermione,” I said after a pause. “It’s illegal. Breeding dragons was outlawed by the 1709 Warlocks’ Convention. Minimum sentence is ten years in Azkaban.”
“Oh no…” Hermione went pale, then stood abruptly. “Harry’s right. We need to see him—right now. Get your things.”
An hour later, we were at Hagrid’s.
“Come in,” he said, shuffling nervously and glancing around before shutting the door. The curtains were drawn tight, and there was a massive pile of wood by the hearth.
Hermione started off light, asking about the other security measures for the Stone. Then, over tea, she dropped the question straight out.
“Hagrid, tell us the truth—have you got a dragon?”
“I figured you’d find out,” Hagrid sighed heavily, looking utterly defeated. He confessed the whole thing.
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“Hagrid, you’ve got to get rid of the egg,” I said bluntly, slipping back into his hut about an hour after we left. The others didn’t know I’d come. “You don’t want to end up in Azkaban again, do you?”
“Erm… Ron… how d’you know about that?” Hagrid mumbled, avoiding my gaze.
“Old newspaper archives,” I replied curtly. “If they catch you, you won’t see freedom for twenty years. I can write to my brother—he’ll take the egg. But if it hatches, you’re on your own. I’m not risking my family. And don’t heat it—that’ll speed up the hatching. Cast a stasis charm on it. Decide now.”
“You’re right, Ron,” he sighed after a long silence, a tear rolling down his cheek. “But I’ve always wanted a dragon. It’s a Norwegian Ridgeback, Ron,” he added wistfully, glancing at the little dragon figurine I’d once given him. It stood proudly on his mantelpiece. “Guess it’s not meant to be…”
“Not all dreams are meant to come true,” I said philosophically, clapping him reassuringly on the shoulder. Then I sat down and scribbled a quick note. “Send this yourself. Take care, Hagrid—and cheer up. This won’t be the last magical critter in your life.”
