HARPER KNEW THAT HERMIONE HAD MEANT WELL, but that didn't stop her from being angry with her. She had been the owner of the best broom in the world for a few short hours, and now, because of Hermione's interference, Harper didn't know whether she would ever see it again. Both she and Harry were positive that there was nothing wrong with the Firebolts now, but what sort of state would it be in once they had been subjected to all sort of anti-jinx tests?

Ron was furious with Hermione, more than Harper was. As fast as he was concerned, the stripping-down of a brand new Firebolt was nothing less than criminal damage. Hermione, who remained convinced that she had acted for the best, started avoiding the common room. Harper knew she had taken refuge in the library and the redhead sometimes joined her since Hermione was still her friend, but they had a mutual agreement not to talk about the Firebolts.

All in all, Harper was glad when the rest of the school returned shortly after New Year and Gryffindor Tower became crowded and noisy again.

Oliver sought her and Harry out on the night before term started.

"Had a good Christmas?" he asked, and then, without waiting for an answer, he sat down, lowered his voice and said, "I've been doing some thinking over Christmas, Harry. After the last match, you know. If the Dementors come to the next one . . . I mean . . . we can't afford you to — well —"

Oliver broke off, looking awkward.

"I'm working on it," Harry quickly said. "Professor Lupin said he'd train me to ward the Dementors off. We should be starting this week; he said he'd have time after Christmas."

"Ah," Oliver said, his expression clearing. "Well, in that case — I really didn't want to lose you as Seeker, Harry. And have you ordered a new broom yet?"

"No," Harry replied.

"What! You'd better get a move on, you know — you can't ride that Shooting Star against Ravenclaw!"

"He and Harper got a Firebolt for Christmas," Ron said.

"A Firebolt?" No! Seriously? A — a real Firebolt?"

"Don't get excited, Oliver," Harper said gloomily. "We haven't gotten them any more. They were confiscated." And then she explained all about how the Firebolts were now being checked for jinxes.

"Jinxed. How could it be jinxed?"

"Sirius Black," Harry replied wearily. "He's supposed to be after me. So McGonagall reckons he might have sent it."

Waving aside the information that a famous murderer was after his Seeker, Oliver said, "But Black couldn't have bought a Firebolt! He's on the run! The whole country's on the lookout for him! How could he just walk into Quality Quidditch Supplies and buy two broomsticks?"

"I know," Harper said, "but McGonagall still want to strip it down —"

Oliver went pale.

"I'll go and talk to her, Harry, Harp," he promised. "I'll make her see reason . . . two Firebolts . . . two real Firebolts, on our team . . . she wants Gryffindor to win as much as we do . . . I'll make her see sense . . . two Firebolts . . ."

• ✧ •

LESSONS STARTED AGAIN NEXT DAY. The last thing anyone felt like doing was spending two hours in the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamanders for their enjoyment, and they spent an unusually good lesson collecting dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing, while the flame-loving lizards scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs.

The first Divination lesson of the new term was much less fun; Professor Trelawney was now teaching them palmistry, and she lost no time in informing Harry that he had the shortest life-lines she had ever seen.

It was Defence Against the Dark Arts that Harper was keen to get to; it had always been her favorite subject.

"Still looks ill, doesn't he?" Ron said, as they walked down the corridor, heading to dinner. "What d'you reckon's the matter with him?"

"Harper?" a voice said and when the redhead turned around, she saw Hermione sitting down at the feet of a suit of armor, repacking her bag, which was so full of books it wouldn't close. "Could I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," Harper replied before turning back to the boys. "You go ahead, save us a seat."

Harry nodded and they walked away as she kneeled down and took a couple of Hermione's books. "I'll put these in my bag," Harper said, taking two heavy books.

"I know Lupin's a werewolf," Hermione quietly said.

Harper wasn't surprised. Hermione was clever—of course she would have found out sooner or later. "I suppose it was only a matter of time before you found out."

"I won't tell anyone, Harp," Hermione added, glancing sideways at her friend before filling her bag again.

"Thanks," Harper replied. "Because it's hard for him to find a job and he really likes teaching. Plus I get to see him every day, which is a bonus."

"You love him don't you?" Hermione asked, tilting her head.

"Of course I do," Harper replied, looking at her friend. "He's the one who raised me alongside Dorcas and although I know they're not my parents, I love them like they are." It wasn't until then that Harper saw some sort of hourglass hanging onto a cord around Hermione's neck.

"So you're using a Time-Turner," she said, as all the pieces started falling together. "That's how you get to all your classes."

"Shh!" Hermione hushed, franctically tucking the Time-Turner under her robes. "No one can know."

"I won't tell anyone, Hermione," Harper promised her, as she pulled her friend up and headed for the Great Hall.

• ✧ •

RAVENCLAW PLAYED SLYTHERIN A WEEK AFTER THE START OF TERM. Slytherin won, though narrowly. According to Oliver, this was good news for Gryffindor, who would take second place if they beat Ravenclaw too. He therefore increased the number of team practices to five a week. This means that Harper had just two nights a week to do all her homework. Even so, she wasn't nearly showing the strain nearly as much as Hermione, whose immense workload finally seemed to be getting to her. Every night, without fail, Hermione was to be seen in a corner of the common room, several tables spread with books, Arithmancy charts, Rune dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects, and file upon file of extensive notes; she barely spoke to anybody, and snapped when she was interrupted.

"How's she doing it?" Ron muttered to Harper and Harry one evening as Harry sat finishing a nasty essay on Undetectable Poisons for Snape, which Harper had already done, and being a good sister, she helped him with it. The both of them looked up. Hermione was barely visible behind a tottering pile of books.

"Doing what?"

"Getting to all her classes!" Ron exclaimed. "I heard her talking to Professor Vector, that Arithmancy witch, this morning. They were going on about yesterday's lesson, but Hermione can't've been there, because she was with us in Care of Magical Creatures! And Ernie McMillan told me she's never missed a Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Divination, and she's never missed one of them, either!"

Harper kept her mouth shut and looked back at Harry's essay, who realized he didn't have time to fathom the mistery of Hermione's impossible timetable at the moment. Two seconds later, however, they were interrupted again, this time by Oliver.

"Bad news, Harry, Harp. I've just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. She — er — got a bit shorty with me. Told me I'd got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about the two of you staying alive. Just because I told her I didn't care if it threw you off, as long as you caught the Snitch on it first." Oliver shook his head in disbelief. "Honestly, the way she was yelling at me . . . you'd think I'd said something terrible. Then I asked her how much longer she was going to keep it . . ." He screwed up his face and imitated Professor McGonagall's severe voice, "'As long as necessary, Wood'. . . I reckon it's time you ordered a new broom, Harry. There's an order form at the back of Which Broomstick . . . you could get a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, like Malfoy's got."

"I'm not buying something Malfoy thinks is good," Harry said flatly, making an end to the conversation.

• ✧ •

JANUARY FADED IMPERCEPTIBLY INTO FEBRUARY, with no change in the bitterly cold weather. The match against Ravenclaw was drawing nearer and nearer, but Harper knew for a fact that Harry still hadn't ordered a new broom. The two of them were now asking Professor McGonagall for news of the Firebolts after every Transfiguration lesson, Ron standing hopefully  behind them, Hermione rushing past with her face averted.

"No, Potters, you can't have it back yet," Professor McGonagall told them the twelfth time this happened, before they'd even opened their mouth. "We've checked for most of the usual curses, but Professor Flitwick believes the broom might be carrying a Hurling Hex. I shall tell you once we've finished checking it. Now, please stop badgering me."

Harper was pleased when Professor McGonagall visited the common room a couple of days later and gave back their Firebolts.

"We can have it back?" Harper said weakly, looking up from the chess she had been playing with Ron. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Professor McGonagall said, and she was actually smiling. "I daresay you'll need it to get the feel of it before Saturday's match, won't you? And Potter — do try and win, won't you? Or we'll be out of the running for the eight year in a row, as Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me only last night . . ."

Professor McGonagall gave her one last smile before making her way back towards the portrait hole.

"That's great!" Ron exclaimed, admiring the two brooms. "Can I still have a go on it? Tomorrow?"

Before Harper could reply, Harry came into the common room closely followed by Neville.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, showing him their brooms. "We've got our brooms back!"

Harry's face lit up and made his way over to them.

"You know what," he said, after petting his broom fondly, "we should make it up with Hermione. She was only trying to help . . ."

Harper smiled. "Great! She's right over there," she said, pointing at Hermione who was bent over her work, carefully avoiding their eyes. She, Harry and Ron approached her table and at last, she looked up.

"We got it back," Harry said, grinning at her and holding up the Firebolt.

"See, Hermione? There wasn't anything wrong with it!" Ron said.

"Well — there might have been!" Hermione said. "I mean, at least you know now that it's safe!"

"Yeah, I suppose so," Harry said. "We'd better put it upstairs —"

"I'll take it!" Ron said eagerly. "I've got to give Scabbers his Rat Tonic."

He took Harry's Firebolt, and, holding it as if it were made of glass, carried it away up the boys' staircase.

"Can we sit down, then?" Harper asked Hermione.

"I suppose so," Hermione said, moving a great stack of parchment off the chairs.

Harper looked around at the cluttered table, at the long Arithmancy essay on which ink was still glistening, at the even longer Muggle Studies essay ('Explain why Muggles Need Electricity') and at the Rune translation Hermione was now poring over.

"How are you getting through all this stuff?" Harry asked her.

"Oh, well — you know — working hard," Hermione said, exchanging a glance with Harper.

"Why don't you just drop a couple of subjects?" Harry asked, as they watched her lifting books as she searched for her Rune dictionary.

"I couldn't do that!" Hermione said, looking scandalized.

"Arithmancy looks terrible," Harry said, picking up a very complicated-looking number chart.

"Oh, no, it's wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed earnestly. "It's my favorite subject! It's —"

But exactly what was wonderful about Arithmancy, they never found out. At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys' staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. There came hurried foodsteps, growing louder and louder — and then, Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet.

"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to Hermione's table. "LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face.

"Ron, what —?"

"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!"

Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. Harry and Harper looked down at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it. Something that looked horribly like —

"BLOOD!" Ron yelled into the stunned silence. "HE'S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?"

"N-no," Hermione said, in a trembling voice.

Ron threw something down into Hermione's Rune translation. Hermione, Harry and Harper leant forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs.

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January 1st 2024
I hope you enjoy it & tell me what you think of it! :)
Happy New Year!! <333