Can A Phoenix Love A Lion? (Hermione Granger x Male Reader)

31. The Whole Story

Nobody moved. Y/N's mind had gone blank with the shock. The four of them stood transfixed with horror. Then, behind them, they heard a wild howling.

"Hagrid," Harry muttered. He made to turn back, but Y/N and Ron seized his arms.

"We can't," Ron said. His face had gone paper-white. "He'll be in worse trouble if they know we've been to see him. . . ."

Hermione's breathing was shallow and uneven. "How—could—they?" she choked. "How could they?"

Y/N would have preferred to know what to say, but he felt a lump in his throat that stopped his words.

"Come on," he finally managed to say.

They set off back toward the castle. Climbing the slope seemed almost impossible, it was too much effort. The light was fading fast now. Darkness was settling like a spell around them.

"Scabbers, keep still," Ron hissed. He came to a sudden halt, trying to force Scabbers deeper into his pocket. "What's the matter, with you, you stupid rat? Stay still— OUCH! He bit me!"

The rat had slipped between Ron's fingers, and scampered away. Before Y/N or Hermione or Harry could stop him, Ron pelted away into the darkness.

"Ron!" Y/N shouted.

He looked at Hermione and Harry, then they followed at a sprint; they could hear Ron's feet thundering along ahead and his shouts at Scabbers.

"Wait!" Harry called.

"Scabbers, come here—"

There was a loud thud.

"Gotcha!" came Ron's voice.

Y/N, Hermione and Harry skidded to a stop. Ron was sprawled on the ground, and Scabbers back in his pocket; he had both hands held tight over the quivering lump.

Y/N got his wand out. "Lumos!" he whispered.

The wandlight showed him the trunk of a thick tree; they had chased Scabbers into the shadow of the Whomping Willow, and its branches were creaking as though in a high wind, whipping backward and forward.

He swallowed hard. "Harry, Hermione, you do realise what tree this is?"

"That's not good," Harry said. "Ron, run!"

Ron raised his head. But he didn't look at them; his eyes were fixed on something over Y/N's shoulder. In the wandlight, his face became a mask of horror. He pointed his finger straight at what he was staring at, and shouted, "Run! It's the Grim!"

Y/N wheeled around. Something was bounding toward him out of the dark—an enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black dog.

Too late to cast a spell—the dog had made an enormous leap, and the front paws hit him on the chest; he keeled over backward in a whirl of hair; he felt its hot breath, saw inch-long teeth—

Luckily for him, the force of its leap had carried it too far; it rolled off him. Dazed, Y/N tried to stand up; he could hear it growling somewhere in the dark.

But the dog didn't spring back toward Y/N. It launched itself straight at Ron and its jaws fastened around his leg. It began dragging Ron as easily as if he were a rag doll.

"Help!" Ron yelled.

Then, out of nowhere, something hit Y/N hard in the stomach and whipped his face, sending him in the air. His feet kicked the void, until his back crashed onto the grass. He heard Hermione shriek with pain and fall, too.

After all this, it was a miracle his hand still clutched his wand.

Something rolled in his eyes. Blinking it out, he looked at the Whomping Willow.