Ronald Weasley and the Philosopher's Stone

Chapter Eight:

Jinxed

"Check mate."

"Ugh! I hate this game!" Hermione sat back against the bottom of the couch that her back was resting against, folding her arms indignantly across her chest. Harry, who was sitting in the chair next to Ron's seat on the floor, smirked. Ron, however, grinned in earnest. Seeing Hermione struggle with anything was quite enjoyable.

"You don't hate it," Harry argued.

"I do too!" she insisted.

"No, you don't. You just hate it when you're playing against Ron. Everyone hates to play against Ron."

"You don't, do you?" Ron asked, worried. He really didn't fancy the idea of his best friend having lied to him for over two months now about how much he enjoyed the game. He thought Harry had been having fun all of those times!

"I don't like losing," Harry quickly said. "I like the game, of course. I just wish I could win once or twice."

"Oh," Ron said. Perhaps next time he should go easy on Harry? But I was already going easy on him. If I go any easier, he's going to think I'm trying to lose on purpose.

"Well, I'm terrible at this game," Hermione said with a frustrated sigh as she watched her tiny chess pieces get up and put themselves back together.

"No you're not!" Ron lied. Truthfully, Hermione really was awful at Wizard Chess. He would have thought that her logical outlook on things would have made her good at strategizing, but apparently not. Instead, she tended to look at the game in terms of what piece she was going to take out next rather than how she was going to win. In all of the time Ron had been playing chess, it had been his strategy to think of which moves would effectively bring him to the point where he had the King cornered. Of course, this involved not only thinking of his next few moves, but also thinking of all the possible moves his opponents could make. His ability to focus his mind on more than one thing at a time (in other words, being an effective multi-tasker) had lead to his vast understanding of chess, which also lead to his feelings of superiority, especially when compared to others.

"I am too!" Hermione argued with him.

"You just need a little practice, is all," Ron explained gently. He didn't think it would be smart to start a row right now with Hermione, especially since her ego was slightly damaged by her loss. "And you need to start approaching the game differently."

"What?" she asked. "I need to start approaching the game differently? What's wrong with the way I play?"

"Lots," Ron said insensitively. He regretted it as soon as he said it. Hermione glared at him, contempt marking all of her features. Luckily, Harry jumped in to save the situation.

"What Ron means is that you're just playing at random. You're not giving much thought into what yours or your opponent's next move will be."

"I am too! I always plan what to do next!" Hermione spat at Harry angrily.

"Yeah, but your goal is always to take out more pieces," Ron quickly said. "You've got a clear goal; it just isn't the right one."

"Well, how am I supposed to get to your King if you keep all the pieces surrounding him put?"

"It's called strategy. You have to figure it out yourself," Ron replied smugly. Hermione sighed roughly and crossed her arms over her chest, clearly disapproving of the entire situation Ron and Harry had put her in. It had taken a lot of coaxing to get Hermione to put down her Transfiguration book and play a game of Wizard Chess, and when she eventually did, Ron had easily beaten her within fifteen minutes. Ron could certainly understand the frustration. He could imagine it felt an awful lot like Ron was mocking her, but truthfully he wasn't. He was just glad that he had the ability to be the best at something.

"I have to go," Harry said with a groan. Ron frowned; he was really starting to hate Harry's Quidditch obligation. It took up most of his free time it seemed. Today, though, it wouldn't be so bad. Instead of having practice later in the night, Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, had booked the pitch for four in the afternoon until six o'clock. That meant that tonight, it wouldn't just be Ron and Hermione alone in the common room, but all three of them. Ron was really looking forward to it; rarely did the three of them get to spend as much time together.

"Already?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. It's 3:45." Harry pulled himself out of his chair and rushed upstairs for his broomstick.

"I wish we could watch him practice," Ron commented.

"I know," Hermione said back. "But you know what Harry said about it. Wood wants to keep Harry a secret."

"Yeah, and it's stupid," Ron replied. "We all know he's playing. Why keep him from us?"

"I don't know," Hermione said with a shrug. "I don't understand why they have to have practice so much as it is. What's the big deal with Quidditch anyway?" Ron's jaw dropped. She didn't really just say that?

"What's the big deal with Quidditch?" Ron asked in outrage. "What do you mean? It's the most important sport in our world, Hermione!"

"Yeah, but it's just a sport!"

"Nutters, you are," Ron said, shaking his head in disbelief. "It's not just a sport. It's a way of life."

"Oh, listen to you! You sound ridiculous!" Ron's eyes widened at the phrase. He did not sound ridiculous; if anything she sounded ludicrous. After all, Quidditch was vital. Nothing in the wizarding world compared to it. Not Exploding Snap, not Gobstones...not even Wizard Chess. There was nothing like the feeling of riding a broom and there was nothing like the feeling of defending the golden hoops (or at least that's the way Ron felt; Harry, he was sure, felt that nothing could compare to searching for the Snitch).

"Girls!" Ron exclaimed, still bestowing that bewildered look on Hermione.

"Boys!" she snapped back at him. Ron smirked and Hermione giggled. It was weird, but with just one shared glance between each other, they were laughing rather hysterically. Harry marched into the room from the boys' dormitories and looked at his friends, confused, but a smile gracing his lips all the same.

"Glad to see you're not terribly mad at him, Hermione," Harry said, stopping to talk for just a moment more.

"I can't stay mad at him," Hermione said, wiping a happy tear from her eye.

"Challenge accepted!" Ron said, though he really didn't mean it. He didn't like making Hermione too mad. Sure, the occasional row was fun and all, but being mad at each other long-term was certainly something he didn't desire. Hermione giggled again, and their raucous laughter began anew.

Quite bemused, Harry grinned at his friends and said, "Right, well...practice."

"See ya, Harry!" Ron and Hermione said in unison. People throughout the common room looked at them in amusement. They had only been friends for six days now, and already they were answering their friend as one.

"So, what now?" Ron asked, once their laughter died down. "Another game?"

"No," Hermione sighed. "Back to work. We have a test in Transfiguration coming up."

"Yeah, next Monday!" Ron protested. "Why do we have to study for it now?"

"Because you need as much help as you can get in that class," Hermione said simply. Ron glowered at her. He hated the implication that he didn't know what he was doing, even if it was his third to least favorite class of them all (the second to worst being History of Magic, and then finally Potions in dead last).

"I'll be fine, Hermione," Ron argued.

"Oh, yeah? What's the incantation for when you want to turn your quill into a leaf?"

Ron sighed and said in a really bored voice, "Penna folium..."

"And the wand movement?"

"A figure eight," he said in the same dull drone. He almost sounded quite a bit like Draco Malfoy, but he didn't care. Hermione's insistence on studying was positively killing him.

"And the practical application?"

"You know," Ron said with a sigh. "I really don't know. Why would anyone want to turn their quill into a leaf? Seems pretty stupid to me."

"Transfiguration isn't stupid!" Hermione exclaimed with an outraged sort of gasp. Ron smirked at the fact that she had taken offense to what he said. Honestly, you would have thought he had said something blasphemous.

"Then why would I ever need that spell?"

"Several reasons, actually. Firstly, a leaf is easier to change into other objects than a feather-"

"Why?"

"Because it's made of a simpler chemical compound!" Hermione spat at him. Ron leaned his head forward and pretended to snore into his chest. "Pay attention to me!" she shouted. People in the common room turned to stare, and Ron started at the sound. He hadn't expected her to yell at him. Feeling ashamed, Ron looked up at his friend.

"Go on," he urged her politely.

"Another reason it's useful is in case you need to get rid of an old quill, but want a more eco-friendly way of disposing of it. Leaves decompose easier than feathers, especially feathers with ink on them."

"You done?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Hermione said.

"Good," he said heavily. In truth, he still didn't understand why it was so important to learn that spell. It seemed pretty stupid to him, but Hermione clearly cared about it, so he decided not to argue. Instead, he would beg. "Look, I know we need to study, but can't we just take a night off?"

"Ron, you don't understand! I've never taken a night off!" Hermione said desperately.

"Well, now's a good time to start!" Ron replied. "I can teach you some chess strategies."

"I don't care about chess, Ron!"

"Alright! We'll find something else to do...something fun!"

"Like what?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Ron said with a frown. "We could go see if we can catch a glimpse of the team practicing?"

"But Oliver Wood doesn't want anyone to see!" Hermione protested. Ron rolled his eyes in annoyance. Was everyone that held any sort of titled position seen as an authority figure to Hermione? Why couldn't she just loosen up for once and learn how to enjoy herself?

"What's he going to do about it? The worst he can do is kick us out!"

"Yes!" Hermione said. "And that'll be really embarrassing, Ron! I don't want to look like a fool by breaking a rule he's set."

"It's a dumb rule, Hermione!" Ron was really starting to get annoyed now. Seriously, why couldn't she just take a risk? "Everyone knows Harry is playing! And he has to know we're friends with Harry. I mean, he was one of those people we were telling the troll story to!"

"I don't know, Ron..."

"Look, if it doesn't work out, we can go and visit Hagrid instead. That way we'll at least have another reason to be outside," Ron said. Hermione looked him over, a frown across her lips. Her trepidation at breaking the rules was, as usual, holding her back. Still, Ron now knew Hermione better than anyone else in the school. He knew she was very capable of breaking rules, especially for friends. She just needed a little coaxing.

"Oh, alright," Hermione said in a relenting, disappointed sort of way. Success! Ron smiled brightly, hopped up from his spot, cleaned up his chess board and ran up the boys' staircase. He returned within a few minutes with his heavy cloak. Hermione was still waiting for him in the common room, standing with her arms crossed disapprovingly by the portrait hole.

They wandered to the front door in the entrance hall in relative silence, though it wasn't uncomfortable. Ron and Hermione had officially surpassed the point of being quiet in each other's presence and having it be awkward. Ron really couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that they had reached this phase of friendship. All he knew was that he'd been friends with Hermione for six days, and already, he felt at ease by her side in nearly every situation that presented itself. Of course, deep in his heart, he knew it could change; sometimes friendships failed, especially those that involved frequent fighting. But he was young, so he really didn't think about all of that much. All that he really was aware of was that he felt perfectly comforted to have such great friends. Harry was the kindest, bravest, and coolest kid he'd ever met, and Hermione was the smartest, sweetest, and funniest girl in the world. All that mattered to him was how wonderful they made him feel, even in silence.

When they got to the heavy oak doors, Hermione exclaimed, "Oh, shoot!"

"What?" Ron asked, looking alarmed as he began to drape his cloak over his shoulders.

"I forgot to get my cloak! It'll be freezing out!"

"Well, what did you think I ran upstairs for? Fun?" Ron rolled his eyes. For being so brilliant, Hermione could also be amazingly ditzy.

"Ugh, no!" Hermione said, her brows coming together creating a little crinkle above her nose. "I thought you were putting away your chess set! I better go back and get mine." She began to turn on her heel, but Ron reached out a hand and grabbed her wrist.

"Never mind that," he said with a sigh. Taking off his cloak, he stretched it out to her and gave her a lopsided smile. "Just wear mine."

"But it's cold out!" Hermione insisted. "You'll freeze!"

"No I won't," Ron argued. Hermione looked like she wanted to counter him, but giving him a fleeting glance, she somehow decided not to. Instead, she took the proffered cloak and swung it over her shoulders. "Good," Ron muttered, turning on his heel. "I'll be fine out there, I promise. I don't really get that cold anyway. Actually, I used to play in the snow back at the Burrow with just a jumper and jeans on."

"The Burrow?" Hermione asked, closing the door behind her as they stepped out into the bright sun. A gust of wind knocked them both back a bit, and they had to brace themselves, ducking their heads down, as they pushed their way out onto the grounds. Though the sun was shining rather radiantly and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, the wind was fierce and biting; November had really brought rather frigid weather to the country. Ron wondered briefly if maybe it would be a good idea to run back in for Hermione's cloak, but he didn't want to look like he couldn't handle the cold, especially after what he had just told her.

Instead, he chose to answer her question. "It's what we call our home," he explained. "What's your home called?"

"Sixty-five Rose Lane," Hermione said in a louder voice than usual in order to speak over the wind.

"Sixty-five Rose Lane?" Ron asked. "That's a weird name."

"It's my address. We don't really have a name for it." Ron gave her a bemused look. Who in the world didn't name their home? He thought that everyone did it! He had heard that the Malfoys lived in a place called Malfoy Manor, that the Diggory's lived at a place called Greenpine Hill, and that that crazy family that lived nearby called the Lovegoods lived in a home named the Fortrack Stump (whatever that was). Did Muggles not name their homes, or was Hermione's family just lazy? He very much doubted the latter, given Hermione's reputation as a workaholic.

"Why didn't you name it?" he asked her.

"Well, Muggles don't really name their homes anymore," she explained. "We used to, I believe. Back in the Renaissance and the Regency and all that, but unless you're very rich or very odd, you don't think to name it."

"Really?" Ron asked. He found it strange that only the very rich Muggles named their homes nowadays, especially considering how very poor his family was. Perhaps, he considered, they could have fit into the odd part of the spectrum? After all, Mr. Weasley had a collection of plugs, there were seven children in the family, and they had one of only three clocks in existence that told the physical well-being of the members of the family (the other two now belonged to his Auntie Muriel, since they were made by his Grandpa Prewett for his three children, two of which had died in the last war). He didn't know whether or not this was a bad thing.

"Yes," Hermione said. "There are still some middle-class Muggles that live in homes that have names, though. They're just really old homes. Like my Aunt Iris. She lives in a cottage in Surrey called Rosehill Cottage."

"Your family likes roses, don't they?" Ron said with a smirk. What were the odds that her family would live on Rose Lane and her aunt would live in a place called Rosehill Cottage?

"It's a coincidence," Hermione said, though for some reason she blushed pink. Then, as matter-of-factly as she could apparently muster, she added, "I like roses." Ron didn't know why she seemed embarrassed over it. It seemed to be a very odd thing to get uncomfortable over. It was just a random fact about her; why should she feel and act so awkward about it?

"That's cool," he said in a slow sort of way, as though he were trying to figure out a very difficult riddle. "You should probably name your home something like Rose Castle or the Thorny Rose."

"The Thorny Rose?" Hermione said, the crinkle above her nose becoming pronounced as she drew her eyebrows in again. The awkwardness seemed to have abated somewhat, because she laughed at him. "What am I living in? A pub?"

"Sounds like a good place to live to me," Ron said, though he really didn't know, since the only pub he'd ever been in was the Leaky Cauldron and because he'd never drank before (granted, he was a little young for it). Hermione smirked and let out a little laugh.

When they got to the Quidditch pitch, it was to find it empty. Hermione looked confused and concerned, as she glanced around while taking her seat on one of the lowest benches. Ron simply sat, unaware of why he should feel so worried. After all, it seemed pretty obvious where they were and why they were there. Clearly, Ron thought as he watched Hermione glance to and fro, looking for some sign of life, she's never been to or played any sort of game.

"Where are they?" she eventually asked.

"Probably in the changing room discussing tactics they want to work on. Fred and George complained to me a couple of weeks ago about how Oliver does it at the beginning of every practice. They'll be along, don't worry," Ron said soothingly. He wrapped his arms around his body and leaned up against the wooden side of the stands, hoping that it would offer him some warmth. The jumper he was wearing just wasn't keeping him comfortable.

"Are you cold?" Hermione said, peering at him after taking one last sweeping look of the pitch.

"Nah," he lied. "I'm just resting against this."

"You're not telling me the truth," she said simply.

Ron didn't see any point in arguing. "No, I'm not. But you keep the cloak. I'll warm up eventually." Hermione rolled her eyes and didn't obey. Instead, she slipped the cloak off of herself and covered both of their legs up, using it as a blanket. Ron, who instantly was relieved by the feeling of not only the cloak but Hermione's body heat that had been transferred to the cloak, grabbed the hem of it and pulled it up to his chin to cover his torso. Hermione did the same, scooting closer to him. "Alright, we'll keep each other warm," Ron finally said. Hermione, for some reason, laughed and it caused the odd sensation of butterflies in his stomach. He couldn't quite pinpoint why it happened, but it just did. And the weird thing was that it wasn't unpleasant. He actually liked the butterflies and the feeling of keeping warm with her, though all reasons for the happiness remained unknown.

"Ron?" Hermione asked after a few moments of silence.

"Yes?"

"What do you think about Harry?" she said.

Ron, who was very confused by this statement, replied, "I think he's a great bloke." Hermione laughed.

"No! I mean, what do you think about what he thinks about Snape?" Hermione asked.

"Oh," Ron said unenthusiastically. It seemed like he, Harry, and Hermione had been through this about twenty times since Monday. That day, Professor Snape had confiscated the copy of Quidditch Through the Ages that Hermione had let Harry borrow, because he'd been outside with it. When Harry went to get it back later in the day, he had apparently discovered Filch the Caretaker bandaging up Snape's leg, which looked like it had puncture wounds that could have only been caused by one source: The three-headed dog in the third floor corridor. Snape had shouted at him to leave, which Harry had done without hesitation, only to rush to his two best friends to inform them on what he'd witnessed.

The thing was, Ron was now convinced that Harry was right. It seemed that nothing could have caused that injury but the dog, which meant that Snape had to have been going there on Halloween ("But if that's the case, why hadn't we noticed him limping last Friday in class?!" Hermione had argued yesterday. The answer was easy: Snape had only stayed at the front of the class, and simply yelled at them from there. He hadn't taken the time to inspect cauldrons at all. Hermione hadn't liked that they were both prepared with that counter-argument). Why the cut was still bleeding was anybody's guess. Harry seemed to think that he had kept trying to get past the dog, while Hermione insisted that he was returning to keep an eye on the package in case a thief tried to steal it. Ron, who had much more hatred for Snape after Friday's class and after his ludicrous punishment of Harry on Monday, immediately agreed with Harry. Snape was evil and sinister, and was probably trying to get whatever it was in the corridor. He just hadn't figured out how to get past the dog yet.

"You know I think he's right, Hermione," Ron said with a groan. He was unable to look her in the eye. He really didn't want to see the disdainful glint in her eyes as he admitted to her, once again, how he felt.

"But why?" Hermione asked in a sharp tone. "Where's your proof?"

"I would have thought the massive leg injury was proof enough," Ron replied hotly.

"But Ron, I've told you!" she said with a sigh. "He could just be trying to protect the package!"

"Yes, Hermione. You've made your point clear. It's just, why would he still be bleeding?" She opened her mouth to state her idea again, but Ron quickly cut her off. "I know what you're going to say, so don't. I don't see why he'd need to repeatedly go back there, especially if he's getting injured so frequently. He's determined to do something, and judging by how much Harry said he bled, I don't think it's to protect it. He wants it, Hermione."

Hermione's mouth opened, as though she wanted to argue, but then shut again. She was deep in thought, Ron could just tell. Her eyes glazed over and her brow furrowed. "Alright, you've got a point," Hermione finally admitted. Ron felt relieved. For some reason, he was the only person who ever seemed to be able to make a point with her. Harry always struggled to make her see his side of things, so Ron worked as an intermediate debater. "But I'm still not convinced."

"Merlin, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed in an exasperated huff. He was about to get up and stalk away from her out of annoyance, but a great gust of wind hit them, and instead, he drew himself closer to her under the cloak. "What more do you want?!"

"I don't know!" she insisted. "I kind of just want to see it for my own eyes!" Ron frowned; that was a good idea.

"Maybe we should just start spending time near the forbidden corridor then?" Ron suggested, suddenly feeling immensely proactive.

"I don't know, Ron. We'll look suspicious, won't we? I don't want Filch or Mrs. Norris to catch us there or anything like that. Especially since we have barely any proof to go on."

Rolling his eyes, Ron said, "Fine, don't help out." Hermione was about to argue with him, he could just tell it. The words were forming on her lips, but suddenly a voice cut their conversation off.

"Hey! You two!! What are you doing here?!" Oliver Wood shouted up in his thick Scottish accent. Both Ron and Hermione jumped at the unexpected sound and glanced down. The entire team was standing on the field, brooms in their hands, looking at the pair of arguing friends with varying degrees of curiosity. Harry sighed and gave them an uncertain look, as though he were hoping Wood would forget his stupid rule. Fred winked at Ron, and it took a moment for Ron to remember that he was tucked under his cloak with the very girl Fred and George claimed he had a crush on. Embarrassed, Ron's ears turned red.

"We're wanting to watch the practice!" Hermione called out when she realized Ron was too embarrassed to answer.

"Well, you can't! We need to keep our Seeker and his strategies a secret until the game on Saturday!" Wood retorted.

"He's our brother, Wood!" Fred and George shouted in unison.

"It doesn't matter," Oliver said, turning to them. "The rules apply to everyone."

"It's no secret that Harry's on the team!" Ron shouted back. "And he's our best mate!"

"Best mate or not," Wood replied, "one of you could end up selling our strategies to Slytherin!" He looked pointedly at Hermione, and instantly Ron's blood began to boil. It was as though Wood were really saying that he trusted Ron for being a Weasley, but he couldn't be sure of the Muggle-born girl sitting next to him. Hermione would never sell a secret to Slytherins!

"What are you playing at?!" he shouted angrily, jumping up and knocking his cloak off of him. He was instantly hit by a wall of frigid air, but he didn't care. He had to defend Hermione against such an accusation.

"I'm sorry, Weasley, but you can never be sure!" Wood yelled up.

"Hermione's one of the most trustworthy, most kind people I know!" His voice was full of all the rage he felt. Hermione reached out and laid a hand on his wrist like she had done when he was facing off with Malfoy, but it did no good this time. He was so annoyed and hurt that another Gryffindor would openly slander Hermione like that, that it seemed no amount of contact from his friend could stop him from fighting for her.

"After Saturday, you'll both be able to watch, but until then, back off!" Wood positively bellowed at him. Ron didn't feel any hesitation in giving him his most hateful glare. Oliver Wood was officially on his list of people he did not like.

"Never mind, Ron," Hermione said quietly in his ear. "Let's go visit Hagrid instead."

Giving Oliver one last angry look, Ron finally agreed. He picked his cloak up off of the bench in front of him and handed it to Hermione without thinking and stalked out of the stands and into the grounds. His strides were so large that Hermione had to run to keep up. Ron didn't care. He just wanted to get away from the pitch as fast as possible, for fear of rushing Oliver Wood and beating him to a pulp. Of course, he knew that wasn't possible. There was a whole Quidditch team that would stop at nothing to keep Ron from beating up their Keeper, and besides that, Wood was a burly sixteen year old guy. Ron was a tall, lanky eleven year old.

"Ron, slow down, please!" Hermione said eventually. He was nearing Hagrid's hut, but Hermione was several paces behind him, clutching at a stitch in her side and panting tiredly. Ron stopped abruptly in his tracks.

"Oh, sorry," he mumbled.

"It's...alright," Hermione said. "Thank you...for that."

"It's not a problem. I hate it when people are mean to you." Ron didn't know why he said that last part. Perhaps it was because Hermione was too out of breath to say anything useful and he was so angry that he needed to fill the silence with something? Or, more likely, it was because he felt that, with Hermione, he could be more truthful with her about these things than anyone else? It didn't matter.

Hermione gave him a grateful smile and took a gulp of air in order to refresh her lungs. "I've noticed," she said simply.

"How?"

"Well, you stood up to Malfoy for me one day. And you've stopped a fight between me and Harry before." Hermione shrugged as if this was proof enough. "And now you've effectively shouted at Oliver Wood. Though, honestly, I don't think it was necessary."

"Hermione!" Ron said louder than he wanted to. "He was accusing you of being a traitor and selling information to the Slytherin Quidditch team! How could I not defend you?"

"It's his job, though, isn't it?" Hermione asked. "To worry about the welfare of his Quidditch team and protect their secrets."

"Yeah, but you're his secret weapon's friend, Hermione!" Ron insisted. "He should at least let us watch. He doesn't need to be suspicious of everybody!"

"He's just sticking to his principles, Ron!"

"Well, he's got to get new principles, because I swear, if he ever says anything like that to you again Hermione, I'm going to make him wish he would have never opened his bloody mouth!"

Hermione simply stared at him for several moments, unable to say anything. She was completely shocked, apparently, over what he had just said. Ron briefly wondered if she was mad at him for it. He could imagine that it probably wasn't very rewarding to hear your friend threaten someone's well-being for you. But she proved him wrong. Instead of glaring at him or telling him to stop, she smiled. The butterflies flared up feebly in his stomach and this time he knew why. She was glad that he would go to such lengths for her, which made him feel good in turn. Not only did he like to defend her, but he also liked that she appreciated it.

"Come on, let's go see what Hagrid's up to," Ron said in a significantly less aggressive voice. Hermione nodded, and they took off together toward the little hut at a much slower pace than before.

Reaching his door, Ron knocked on it, and their ears were instantly greeted by the now familiar booming bark of fang, and the sound of his paws smacking against the door, his claws scratching all the way down it. Ron grimaced and gritted his teeth; he hated that sound more than any other in the world. Hermione laughed at the look on his face, but before she could ask him why he looked so pained, Hagrid's door flew open.

"Oh, hello yeh two!" he said with a pleasantly surprised look on his face. "Wasn' expectin' yeh! Come on in!" They trailed in behind him and had to practically jump to get in their usual chairs around his massive table. "Would yeh two like a cuppa?"

"Oh yes!" Hermione said eagerly. Both of them were in agreement that nobody's tea compared to Hagrid's. His rock cakes, however, were another story altogether.

"Sorry I don' have any cakes for yeh," Hagrid said as he turned his back to them to pull out three bucket-sized mugs. "I ran out this mornin' when Fred and George came by durin' their free period."

Ron didn't allow the mild surprise at hearing that Fred and George had visited their friend in the morning show on his face. Instead, he politely said, "Oh, that's alright. We've only got an hour before dinner anyway."

"Well, tha's true." Hagrid was now over by the chimney, putting his copper kettle on its spit above the fire. Fang came over and expectedly put his muzzle into Ron's lap. Usually when they came here, Ron gave most of his food to the dog. He gave the poor pooch a sympathetic frown; there would be no food from Ron today.

"Hagrid, what's this?" Hermione suddenly said. Ron had been too busy watching both Hagrid and Fang that he hadn't noticed what Hermione was indicating: A piece of parchment with Hagrid's scratchy and sloppy handwriting on it.

"Oh, tha'? It's nothin'." Hagrid asked. He made to snatch it out of Hermione's hands, but she was too quick for him.

"It doesn't look like nothing," Hermione said, frowning at Hagrid, and then looking at Ron much in the same way that he had just looked at the dog.

"What is it?" Ron now said eagerly, completely curious.

"Now, Ron, don' be mad," Hagrid quickly said.

"Why would I be mad?" He gave Hagrid a questioning glare, unsure of how to feel in this situation.

"Hagrid's writing to your parents!" Hermione revealed.

"What?!" Ron questioned, looking back and forth between his two friends. "Why?"

"They...they asked me to keep an eye on yeh," Hagrid explained, wringing a dish towel (that was really the size of a full towel) in his massive hands.

"But why?!" Ron demanded, though he had a funny suspicion as to the real reason. Percy had told them that Harry was a bad influence on him, hadn't he? Had his mum really written to Hagrid to ask for his assistance? He felt violated.

"Well, yer mum's just worried, tha's all!" Hagrid insisted.

"What have you told them?"

"Nothin', cause yeh've been real good, haven' yeh?" Hagrid asked, seemingly hurt that Ron would interrogate him thus. It couldn't be helped. Hagrid was spying on him and telling his mum everything he was doing!

"Calm down, Ron," Hermione quickly said, seeing how nervous and sad Ron was making Hagrid.

"I just don't understand them!" Ron blurted out. "Why do they always think I'm up to no good! I'm always the one who gets in trouble, always the one who gets overlooked, unless it's to yell at me. I hate it!"

"Now, Ron, tha's not true," Hagrid said gently. "Yer mum and da' love yeh!" Ron snorted indignantly. "It's true, an' yer a fool if yeh believe otherwise!"

"It's just not fair that they feel they have to spy on me!" Ron mumbled. Hermione laid a sympathetic hand on his arm.

"Look, if it makes yeh feel better, I wouldn' tell them anythin' even if yeh were up to somethin'. I don' feel right about spyin' on yeh. I just said yes to make yer mum happy. She was always really nice to me when she was in school, see? Didn' make fun of me or anythin'."

Feeling better, Ron simply said, "Thanks, Hagrid." Hagrid nodded at him, and turned back to the copper kettle and began to pour their cups of tea. Instead of focusing on him, Hermione, or Fang, though, Ron lost himself in thought. He really did hate this lack of trust that seemed to exist between his parents (particularly his mother) and him. Perhaps he should write to her about it? If he exposed that he knew what she was up to, maybe she'd back off? It also surprised him that his mum had known Hagrid when she went to Hogwarts. Had he really been working here that long? How old was he, exactly? Peering at him surreptitiously, Ron estimated that he was probably about forty-five at the most. Then how could he possibly have been working here when his mum went to school? That would have made him be only six years older than Mrs. Weasley! Something wasn't adding up; either Hagrid was older than he looked, or he'd been the youngest employee Hogwarts had ever had at the tender age of six.

But he didn't have time to think about that, for a mug of tea was suddenly being placed in front of him, and Hagrid began talking again. "Actually, I was wonderin' if maybe yeh two would like to help me write a letter to Ron's mum? I haven' been keeping track of yeh as well as she wanted me to. Las' week she complained, cause the only time I seem to see yeh is on Friday."

"So..." Ron said, looking confused. "What do you want?"

"Jus' fill me in on what yeh've been up to. It would make this spyin' bisness easier, certainly."

Hermione chuckled. "It's not really spying if Ron knows about it and he's helping you write the letters, Hagrid."

"Well, I call it spyin' cause tha's what Mrs. Weasley wants me to do. It's not really spyin'." Ron and Hermione both nodded to indicate that what he said made sense.

"Yeah, alright," Ron said to him. "Basically I've just been studying. Oh, Harry and I saved Hermione from that troll, remember?"

"I told her abou' tha' last Friday," Hagrid said as he nodded.

"I got a good grade in Transfiguration...you can tell her that!" Ron said quickly. Hermione scoffed, and Ron instantly knew why. "You can also tell her I made friends with a smart girl who is going to help me get my grades up." Hagrid nodded as he made notes on a spare bit of parchment.

"A REALLY smart girl," Hermione amended.

"A really brilliantly smart girl," Ron said, effectively one-upping her.

"How 'bout I say yer now friends with the smartest girl in the world?" Hagrid sarcastically asked, beating both of them at their game.

Hermione donned a falsely modest face and said, "Well, if you really want to." Ron, who had been taking a sip of his tea, spit the liquid all over the place from laughter. Hagrid burst out in the loudest booms of mirth Ron had ever heard. The whole cabin shook from the laughter he let forth, which made both Ron and Hermione laugh even harder. Hagrid began to wipe tears from his eyes, completely overcome with hilarity.

"Wha' else?" he eventually said, still struggling to keep a calm face. Ron thought hard. What more could he tell his parents? He didn't want anyone besides Harry and Hermione to know about the package, and he really didn't feel like bringing it up to Hagrid. He'd already seen Hagrid's reaction to talking about Gringotts and the trip he'd made with Harry. He was awkwardly avoidant. They were having too much fun to ruin it by talking about the suspicions he, Harry, and Hermione had been having lately.

And then it occurred to him. "Oh...I had a fight with Percy, but I went and talked to him and worked it out," Ron said rather quickly. He hoped that, more than anything, Hagrid picked up on the last part and told his mum. It really said something that Ron had been the one to fix the problem. He was growing up, becoming more mature, and was actually starting to understand how to deal with his brother.

"Well, tha's great!" Hagrid said, beaming at him. "Glad yeh fixed it up an' everythin'. Wha' were yeh fightin' bout?"

"Oh, he was upset, because Harry and I went and saved Hermione from the troll without coming to him first."

"Didn' have time did yeh?" Hagrid declared, looking at Ron with much the same expression Ron had had when he first realized Percy was angry with him.

"That's what I said. We figured out he's jealous of me."

"Why's tha'?" Hagrid wondered aloud. If it would have been anyone else asking, Ron would have felt offended; there was plenty to be jealous of about him, Ron was sure. But he knew that Hagrid was practically incapable of intentionally hurting another person's feelings.

With a shrug, he said, "Because he wanted to take care of the troll, but I did it instead." Hagrid nodded and smiled sadly at Ron. Ron figured he knew what Hagrid was thinking. He was probably considering Percy's attitude. That general feeling of being better than his peers evidently rubbed off on more than just his siblings. Ron hadn't thought that it was a very big secret. Percy was rather boisterous about everything he did well.

But if he was thinking about it, Hagrid never said anything. Instead, they spent the next hour drinking tea and thinking of other things to write to Mrs. Weasley. Hermione suggested that Hagrid tell her about Ron's good marks in Flying and how he'd impressed Madame Hooch with his perfect technique. Then they decided that Hagrid should talk about how he'd taught Harry and Hermione how to play Wizard Chess ("Will you teach me?" Hagrid had eagerly asked. Ron had, of course, agreed, and they made plans for Ron to bring his chess set on Friday).

"Yeh had to have done somethin' this week other than good things? I mean, yer mum will probably think that yer helpin' me if I only tell 'er good things." Hagrid said as they both stood to leave.

Ron frowned. He didn't want to tell Hagrid anything too bad, because he didn't want his mum angry with him. Still, the man had a point. Thinking hard, he finally said, "I suppose you can tell her about me getting yelled at by Snape last Friday."

"Alrigh'," Hagrid said with a nod. "But I'll say it was because you were askin' Harry for help with yer potion. I don' wanna get yeh in trouble." Ron grinned; Hagrid was so thoughtful.

They thanked him for the tea and agreed to both visit him in two days time after their Potions class. As they exited Hagrid's hut, they saw the Gryffindor team marching back toward the castle. Ron and Hermione ran to catch up with Harry, who swiftly apologized to them for Oliver Wood's behavior. Wood gave them both a remorseful sort of smile and nod, but Ron simply glowered back at him. He didn't care how sorry the guy was for what he'd said, he had made an enemy of Ron today.

"That was really cool what you did, Ron," Harry was saying. Ron turned to him and looked at him, confused.

"What I did?" he asked.

"Yeah. I mean, Oliver was mad, but he upset me too by what he said. Hermione wouldn't give Slytherin any of our team's moves."

"Yeah, I know," Ron said. "That's why I said and did what I said. How upset was he?"

"Well, he just asked why you acted like you did."

"And what did you say?"

"I said, 'How else is he supposed to act? He's the best friend anyone could have!'" Harry said with a crooked smile. Hermione grinned too, as if to say she was in complete agreement with Harry. Ron, on the other hand, went red. Never before had he been so openly complimented by anyone in his life. Sure, Hermione had complimented him a few times before, but only ever to his face. Harry had paid him the ultimate compliment: He'd told someone else just how great he could be. It felt oddly fantastic.

* * *

The banner flashed gold, then yellow, then back to gold. Ron didn't know how she'd done it (especially since she claimed the Color Change Charm only worked on concrete things and not on things like ink or paint), but the words, "Potter for President" kept alternating between the two different Gryffindor House colors. It was a handsome banner and had actually originally been Neville's idea after Scabbers had ruined yet another sheet of Ron's. Of course, Neville hadn't come up with the words. That had been Ron and Seamus' doing. Dean had chipped in by drawing a little lion on the bottom of their banner. It was actually rather impressive for first years.

The five of them held the banner together in their section of the stands, waving it about and screaming their encouragement up to Harry. Every now and then, Hermione would drop her corner and cover her eyes in order to block the terrifying sight of a Beater smacking a Bludger toward a Chaser, a Chaser going into a steep dive, or some random player getting too close.

"Oh no!" she squeaked weakly for about the millionth time.

"Hermione, will you calm down?" Ron said, not daring to take his attention off of the Bludger that Fred had just knocked at Marcus Flint. It hit the Slytherin Captain straight in the gut, and he leaned over his broom stick in pain.

"I can't watch," she said, the sound of her voice muffled from her gloves.

"Everything will be alright. They know what they're doing!" he argued.

"No they don't, Ron! They're just kids!"

"Yes, they are. And they've been practicing for months now. Stop being such a baby." Ron turned to look to make sure that no one was listening, and then added in an undertone, "You're worse than Neville, honestly." Hermione peered between her fingers at the boy who was next to Ron. He was white in the face, but he maintained his hold on the banner and only flinched when something scary happened. Hermione looked shocked.

"Oh, God. I am, aren't I?" she groaned pathetically. Ron snickered and handed her portion of the sheet back to her. It took a few moments, but Ron noticed a difference with her. She became more composed, though her eyes betrayed her anxiety. Anytime something that she considered scary happened, she would instinctively duck behind the banner and pop back up quickly, her grip on the sheet causing her knuckles to go white. Ron would have laughed at her if he hadn't pitied her so much.

"Budge up there, move along!" a voice called above the noise of the crowd. Ron and Hermione looked to their left. Making his way up the narrow wooden staircase that led to their seats was Hagrid. Students all around him went sprawling to duck out of his way, and he accidentally knocked a dazed Professor Sinistra in the back of the head with his massive hand. "Sorry 'bout tha'," he said simply.

Ron laughed; Hagrid's appearance in the stands was actually funny. "Hagrid!" Hermione called to him, though it wasn't necessary. He seemed to be trying to get to them anyway.

"Scoot over, Neville," Ron said to his other friend. Neville nodded, looking at Hagrid somewhat fearfully and trying to move closer to Seamus. The other two boys moved down, and eventually there was enough room for all of them, though barely. Hagrid plopped himself down on the bench that lay long forgotten behind the students and Ron heard it groan ominously. Oh, bloody hell. What do we do if this breaks?! he thought as a small trace of fear fluttered in his stomach.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," Hagrid explained to them both, indicating to a rather large pair of binoculars that were draped around his neck. "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?" He looked up at Harry hopefully, but the way their friend was just drifting back and forth above the action revealed that nothing had really happened. In fact, Harry looked, if anything, immensely confused and wary. It was clear that he wanted to find the Snitch, but the amount of movement that was occurring below him was making all of that difficult. Or at least that's what Ron figured.

"Nope," Ron replied. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," Hagrid replied, looking up into the sky with his binoculars up to his eyes. Ron wished he had a pair. He would have loved to have been able to see what Harry was up to. Instead, he just squinted up at the little dot that he knew was Harry. It's alright, Harry, he thought to his friend, I know you'll be able to find the Snitch!

As though Harry had telepathically heard Ron, he suddenly streaked through the sky, purposely aiming at some unseen something. "I think he saw the Snitch!" Hermione shouted.

"GO HARRY!" Ron cheered, watching as the Slytherin Seeker seemed to see it too. He was rushing after Harry, but he was too slow. Harry was going to get it and Gryffindor was going to win. Ron crossed his fingers nervously, nearly dropping the banner in the process. But then-

WHAM!

Harry was sent flying as Marcus Flint blocked Harry by stealing a Beater Bat and knocking it toward the first year. Harry spun off course, and three-fourths of the crowd groaned at what must have obviously hurt. Hermione dropped the banner again and covered her eyes, while Ron shouted, "FOUL!" The rest of the Gryffindors screamed in agreement. Madame Hooch zoomed up to Flint on her broom in order to have words with him.

"Send him off ref!" Dean was yelling at the end of their row of benches. "Red card!" Ron looked down the row at Dean in confusion. What the hell was a red card?

"What are you talking about, Dean?" Ron had to practically scream at his classmate. The noise from the crowd made the conversation difficult to have.

"Red card!" Dean said incredulously, clearly annoyed that Ron didn't know what he was talking about. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!" Ron's eyes widened in disbelief. So, if what Dean was saying was correct, this red card had enough power to kick people out of the game when they were playing soccer? Ron shook his head in bewilderment. The things these Muggles come up with...

"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him. Dean rolled his eyes, clearly thinking that he was right. Yes, it would have been nice if Slytherin would be down a player because their Chaser decided to act as a Beater, but that wasn't how Quidditch worked. Gryfindor would simply get a penalty shot. No one ever got thrown out of a game.

"They oughta change the rules," Hagrid spoke up from beside the still hiding Hermione. "Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."

"Yeah, but Hagrid!" Ron began to argue, not paying any attention to what was happening on the pitch in front of him. "It's Quidditch. It has its own rules that have been used for centuries. They're not about to allow a card or something to kick people out."

"The card doesn't kick people out of the game," Hermione finally spoke up. Her voice was shaky and sick sounding, as though she had to fight off throwing up. "It's the referee that does that. The card is just symbolic."

"Symbolic of what?" Ron asked.

"It's a silent way of saying, 'You've behaved so terribly that you don't belong in this game anymore,'" Hermione tried to explain. Ron still didn't understand.

"Why don't they just say that to them?"

"I don't know!" Hermione said with a sigh of aggravation. "I didn't invent soccer. How am I supposed to know why they use the red card? They just do."

"Well, you are supposed to know everything," Ron said cheekily. Seamus and Dean must have overheard, because they started laughing to Ron's right. When he turned to look at them, Dean gave him a thumbs up, Seamus reached around to clap him on the back, and Neville gave him a fleeting smile of approval. Turning back to Hermione, he saw that she didn't look too pleased.

"You know what? If you don't want help, then don't ask for it," she said hotly.

"Alright, I won't." Ron usually wouldn't have so openly mocked Hermione, but the support from the other boys around him made him feel like he could pick on her. It was what also what made him add, "Since you don't know everything, what good are you?"

Hermione's jaw dropped, and instantly tears sprang to her eyes. Ron's stomach plummeted. What had he just done?! He had promised himself that he'd never make Hermione cry again! She dropped the banner and turned around as if to leave, but Ron was much too quick for her. He reached out, grabbed her wrist, and turned her back to where she was facing him again.

"Ron, let go," she said weakly. Ron looked warily around. Nobody seemed to notice what was now happening. Or, at least, the people in his row were pretending to not watch. Even Hagrid had turned his attention away from them, and was deliberately following Harry with his binoculars, humming rather loudly to himself so as not to hear.

"No!" Ron insisted. "Hermione, you know I didn't mean that. Please don't cry!"

"Is that the only reason why you're friends with me?" she asked, sniffling. Oh Merlin, she's going to start crying and I'm not going to know what to do! Ron thought wildly. He had to get her to stop.

"No!" Ron said again. "You're very important to me for many reasons. You should know that! I mean, I hate it when you correct me! Why would I keep you around just for your intelligence?" Hermione was silent, staring down at his hand on her wrist as though deep in thought. "You're kind and sweet and you really make me feel good. I'm happier when I hang out with you, you have to believe me! I don't feel as angry or jealous of everyone. You've made me a better person already, and not just with my homework!"

"Really?" she asked.

"Yes." And he was sincere about it all. Hermione did make him feel good. Without her, he'd be stuck by himself all the time, because Harry had Quidditch practices. He'd be left to stew in all his bad feelings. But with her around, he didn't have to think about being angry at the world. He didn't compare himself to anyone anymore; not his brothers, not Harry, and not even Hermione herself. Instead, she had made him see that he really was a worthwhile person.

Hermione must have picked up on the honesty in his voice and eyes, because her frown turned into a small smile, and she hastened to wipe the tears that were still clinging to her lashes off. "Why did you say that?" she asked, picking up her corner of the sheet.

"I'm stupid," Ron said simply. "I was just picking on you, but I took it too far, I guess."

"Yes, you did."

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doin'," Hagrid suddenly said interrupting their conversation. Ron looked up at the large man, confused by what he could be talking about. The near blow up with Hermione had made him completely forget that he was at a Quidditch match. Putting a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, Ron peered into the sky and saw Harry. But instead of lazily drifting around in the heavens searching for the Snitch, he was jerking around manically. In fact, it looked like the broom was trying to knock him off of it. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom...but he can't have..." Hagrid mumbled to himself.

But Ron knew very well that he could have. Once again, his stomach fell, but this time it was a million times worse. His best friend was clinging for dear life to his broom; one false move and he'd fall to his death. "Hang on, Harry!!" Ron called up to him. This had to stop soon. It couldn't really throw Harry off, could it? Dumbledore would put a stop to it. He was here today, wasn't he?

As if to prove Ron wrong, the broom flailed wildly, and the crowd gave a collective gasp as Harry flipped forward. Somehow he had maintained his grip with one hand. He was now dangling above them. What do we do?! Ron asked himself nervously. Someone had to put a stop to this!

Seamus suddenly asked, "Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?"

"Can't have," Hagrid said gruffly nearby. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic - no kid could do tha' to a Nimbus 2000!" Ron went to exchange a fearful look with Hermione, but the look on her face was one he'd never witnessed before. Her eyes had widened, her mouth was hanging partially opened, and she seemed oddly calm. Especially considering how nervous she'd been earlier in the game when nothing spectacularly dangerous was happening.

"Hermione?" Ron asked nervously. She didn't seem to hear. Instead, she jumped up and snatched Hagrid's binoculars out of his grasp. The man looked confused, but didn't say anything. Ron supposed he felt the two friends had a right to look at Harry too. Except Hermione wasn't looking at Harry. She was actually scanning the crowd for someone, though who that person was was beyond Ron.

"What are you doing?" he questioned, completely bewildered.

"I knew it!" she finally said with a desperate sort of groan. "Snape - look!" Then she thrust the binoculars in Ron's hands and pointed him in the right direction.

Ron gasped. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Across the stands from them sat the teachers, and in the midst of all of those adults sat Professor Snape. He wasn't just looking shocked like his peers around him. Instead, he was mumbling something that looked curiously like an incantation. He was the one doing it. Ron lowered the binoculars, feeling his stomach sink all the way down to his toes. Not only was Harry going to die, but it was going to be Snape's doing. He must know that we know he's after the package, he considered desperately.

"He's doing something - jinxing the broom," Hermione confirmed.

"What should we do?" Ron asked desperately. To him, there seemed to be no way out of this situation. Harry was quite simply and terribly doomed.

"Leave it to me," Hermione answered confidently. And then she was gone. Ron stared at her seat for a long moment in a total lack of comprehension. Where had she gone? And then it occurred to him: Hermione was probably going to go stop Snape herself! I can't let her do that! he thought in alarm. She'll get herself jinxed!

He made to leave, but the crowd was so thick around him, that Ron couldn't be sure which way she had gone. What if she hadn't gone after Snape but went to tell McGonagall or Dumbledore? Yes, that was probably more likely. Eagerly, he clung onto Hagrid's binoculars and stared alternately between the precariously dangling Harry and to the perfidious Snape.

Several minutes passed, and Ron felt increasingly more nervous. Surely someone would come to stop Snape soon? Ron couldn't stop himself from muttering, "Come on, Hermione!" desperately.

Then he saw it. A small flame on the hem of Snape's cloak. Hermione, Ron realized, must have been hiding behind the bleachers. She had done one of her better spells, a nice charm that caught fire without really needing tender. He watched as Snape's face went from hastily mumbling whatever spell he was using to make Harry nearly fall off of his broom, to looking very alarmed and screaming. The flame disappeared, and Ron imagined Hermione scooping the fire into a jar, which was something she used to keep warm in cold weather.

Before Ron knew it, Harry had somehow managed to swing himself back up onto his broom, and he was zooming toward something that no one else could see. Hermione was back by his side in no time, but she looked just as confused as Ron felt as she put the jar of fire in between them to keep them both warm. Harry looked like he was going to be sick for some reason. Maybe all that jolting around had upset his stomach?

But then he was screaming something, and all was in utter confusion. He was holding up his fist, and Ron tried to make out the words. "I...I think he caught the Snitch!" Ron announced the bewildered Gryffindors around him. He wasn't sure how Harry had done it, but now the whistle was being blown and Madame Hooch was declaring Gryffindor victorious.

"How did he catch it?" Hermione asked.

"I have no idea," Ron replied. All conversation from that moment on was impossible. The din of the crowd was too much to try to shout over. Instead, the two friends decided to make their way down out of the stands, eager to find out just how this relatively short game had been won.

* * *

"I almost swallowed it," Harry explained as he took his seat in Hagrid's cabin. His hair was wind-swept and even messier than usual, his cheeks were rosy, and the smile that was plastered on his face was incredibly contagious. There wasn't a person in the tiny cabin that wasn't blissfully happy about Harry's victory. "I saw it as soon as I swung up on my broom, and I guess I went at it a little faster than I meant to. I was scared that my broom would start trying to hurl me off of it again."

"Tha' was terrifyin'," Hagrid said from his spot near the fire. "We all thought yeh were done for."

"So did I," Harry said with a nod. "I wonder why it started doing that?"

Ron instantly jumped in, not even considering the fact that they were in the presence of a Hogwarts staff member. "It was Snape. Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off of you."

Hagrid looked affronted. He obviously hadn't heard the conversation that briefly went on between Ron and Hermione before the latter disappeared. Ron looked rather guiltily toward the jar of fire that was now sitting in the middle of the table; Hagrid probably had no idea that that fire had actually been started on the teacher in question's robes in order to stop him from cursing Harry.

"Rubbish!" he said angrily. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?" The three friends exchanged a very brief glance. Ron noticed Harry's eyes staying on Hermione's for longer than he had looked at his other best friend's. He figured this was probably because up until this afternoon, Hermione had been rather vehement about her defense of Snape. Now she was clearly on their side of the debate. She had found her concrete proof.

It was Harry who finally answered Hagrid. He said in a very delicate voice, "I found out something about him. He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he's trying to steal whatever it's guarding." Hagrid, who had been pulling the kettle off of the fire, dropped it. Scalding water flew everywhere, and Hermione actually had to duck under the table to avoid getting hit by it.

"How do yeh know abou' Fluffy?!" he asked them incredulously.

"Fluffy?" they all chimed in unison. Ron couldn't help but stare at Hagrid in dumbfounded amusement. Who on earth would get attached enough to name a dog like that, let alone name it a cutesy name like Fluffy?

"Yeah - he's mine - bought him off of a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year - I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-"

"Yes?" Harry butted in eagerly. Ron was sitting up high in his chair, his interest peaked. Hermione was at the very edge her seat, apparently able to only just barely contain her excitement.

"Now, don't ask me anymore. Tha's top secret, tha' is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it!" Ron argued.

"Rubbish! Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort!" Hagrid pointed out. None of the kids thought this was a good enough argument, and Hermione was the next to jump to Harry's defense.

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" she asked defiantly. Hagrid gave her a look that clearly said, "Not you too!" But Hermione didn't care. She was going to allow her voice to be heard. She gave Harry a brief, apologetic glance, then turned back to Hagrid. "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

Now Hagrid looked positively livid. It was really sweet, Ron reflected, that he would go to such lengths to defend someone that Dumbledore hired. It was as though he was saying that since Dumbledore trusted him, that meant that there was no reason to suspect him. He must have a lot of respect for Dumbledore, then, Ron thought.

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" Hagrid said back to her. Then, glancing around at the three of them he said as clearly as he could, "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh - yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel-"

"Aha! So there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?" Harry asked excitedly. Ron felt like this was a poor tactic to get Hagrid to share more. In fact, Hagrid appeared to be thoroughly hating himself, now that he'd let yet another important secret slip.

"Alrigh' yeh three. I think tha's enough tea for today. Reckon they'll be throwin' yeh a party in the Tower, Harry. Don' wanna miss it." Hagrid roughly picked the three of them up by their collars and shoved them out his door, clearly annoyed that he'd allowed this conversation get as far as it did as fast as it had. Hermione was barely out the door when Hagrid said, "See yeh Friday! Bye!" and slammed the door on them.

"Well that was rude," Ron commented as the three of them set their feet for the castle.

"I feel terrible," Hermione said.

"He'll forgive us, don't worry. And at least we know something for sure now," Harry said smiling. "Nicolas Flamel is involved in this. Have you ever heard of him, Hermione?" Harry immediately turned to Hermione, which Ron perfectly understood. As he had told her earlier, she knew everything. Surely she had the answer to this question, too?

"I don't know. The name sounds familiar, but I can't be sure," she frowned and bit her lip. "Do you know, Ron?"

Ron sighed and looked up at the sky, trying to recall just where he'd heard that name. He knew he'd at least read it from somewhere, which was saying a lot, since he didn't particularly like reading. But where that was that he had read it was unknown. He couldn't for the life of him remember. "I think so. But I can't remember where I've seen his name."

"That's funny," Harry replied, his brows furrowed, "me too." They marched in silence for a few moments before Harry blurted out, "So what are we going to do now?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"I mean, how are we going to find out who this guy is?" Harry clarified.

"Simple," Hermione said, shoving the front door open and holding it thus for the boys to enter. "We look in the library, of course."