Brighter Than the Sun

Chapter Fifteen

It felt as though we'd already won the Quidditch Cup. The party went on all day and well into the night. Fred and George Weasley disappeared for a couple of hours and returned with armfuls of bottles of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags full of Honeydukes sweets.

"How did you do that?" squealed Angelina Johnson as George started throwing Peppermint Toads into the crowd.

"Don't ask a magician his secrets, Angie," I told her, trying to grab a butterbeer from Fred, who raised the bottle just out of my reach. "-- Why do you Weasleys have to be so tall? -- It takes away the magic. Fred, I swear to Morrigan--" I elbowed him in the gut and snatched the butterbeer out of his hand when he bent over.

Only one person wasn't joining in the festivities. Hermione, incredibly, was sitting in a corner, attempting to read an enormous book entitled Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles. Taking a break from the festivities, I went over to keep her company. She was really busy and couldn't afford to talk much, but she congratulated me on my part in winning the match and said she was grateful to have me just sit there with her. I ran upstairs to grab a book and my glasses and came back downstairs to read while she did homework. I was caught up on all of my assignments, which was a first and partly worried me because I was sure there had to be something I was missing, but after checking over and over, I determined that there really was nothing I had to finish and relaxed.

"Did you even come to the match?"

I looked up. Harry was standing in front of Hermione and I, holding a bottle of butterbeer.

"Of course I did," said Hermione in a strangely high-pitched voice, not looking up. "And I'm very glad we won, and I think you did really well, but I need to read this by Monday."

"Come on, Hermione, come and have some food," Harry said.

"I can't, Harry. I've still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read!" said Hermione, now sounding slightly hysterical.

"What about Ron?" I looked over at the said ginger. "You think he's in a good enough mood to bury the hatchet?"

Of course Ron chose that moment to say loudly, "If Scabbers hadn't just been eaten, he could have had some of those Fudge Flies. He used to really like them —"

Hermione shot up, gathered all of her books, and ran out of the room, tears streaming down her face.

I stormed up to Ron. "Will you give her a break? She's barely holding herself together as it is, and you're not making things much better!"

"I'm not letting up," said Ron flatly. "If she just acted like she was sorry — but she'll never admit she's wrong, Hermione. She's still acting like Scabbers has gone on holiday or something."

"Oh, shut up!" I snapped. "It's a wonder you still have friends when you treat the ones you have like Hippogriff dung."

I marched up to the girls' dorm, wondering if I could convince Mr. D. to turn Ron into a dolphin for the remainder of the term. I decided against trying, since that would probably result in too much paperwork for him.

I dreamed of a man with long, matted black hair that nearly reached his elbows. His face was gaunt and pale. His robes were baggy on his thin frame and were dirty and torn. He walked along the Hogwarts hallway and stopped in front of the Portrait of Sir Cadogan, who guarded our Common Room.

"You there!" Cadogan exclaimed when he spotted the man. "Stop and fight! Or try to guess the password, I guess."

The man looked down at a piece of paper he was holding. "Er..." his voice came out hoarse like he hadn't used it in a while. "I'm not sure which one it is right now. Is it 'Gobbledegook?' "