Slow Grenade

Chapter Nineteen

It was the morning of the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match and Harry was being heralded as some sort of Messiah as he strolled into the Great Hall with his Firebolt. Despite now having it back in his possession, Harry and Ron were still not speaking to Hermione.

"Sure you can manage that broom, Potter?" said a drawling voice.

Draco had arrived for a closer look, Crabbe and Goyle right behind him.

"Yeah, reckon so," replied Harry casually.

"Got plenty of special features, hasn't it?" said Draco, eyes glinting mischievously. "Shame it doesn't come with a parachute, in case you get too near a Dementor."

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.

"Pity you can't attach an extra arm to yours, Malfoy."

The Gryffindor team laughed loudly, and he stalked away. The impending prank had been in Draco's mind for a long time now, and today was the perfect opportunity. Potter deserved it for all the trouble he had been causing Hermione.

At quarter to eleven, the students began excitedly heading down to the pitch. Eventually the whistle blew, and the game began.

Hermione was reading yet another book in the desperate hopes that it would help Buckbeak, when she heard Cho Chang scream from her broom and point downwards. Getting up and peering over the edge of the stands she saw three Dementors on the pitch. Panic flooded through her but, as she looked back to Harry, he plunged his hand into the neck of his robes.

Whipping out his wand, Harry roared, "Expecto Patronum!"

Something silver white, something enormous, erupted from the end of his wand. It shot directly at the Dementors and Harry drove his broom forward to catch the Snitch.

Whilst the Gryffindor's burst into cheers around her, Hermione looked more closely at the crumpled heap of black material on the floor. She could see something... wriggling?

Suddenly, a pale face emerged gasping from the pile and Professor McGonagall stormed over, her rage palpable. Hermione could barely contain her laughter. There, in the middle of the Quidditch pitch were Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus Flint, all struggling to extricate themselves from the long, black, hooded robes.

She would never let him hear the end of this.

Despite their continued silence towards her, Hermione made herself go over to Harry and Ron in the common room as soon as she received the letter from Hagrid.

Without preamble, she said, "He – he sent me this."

Harry look confused but took the damp parchment from her. Enormous teardrops had smudged the ink so badly in places that it was very difficult to read.

Dear Hermione,

We lost. I'm allowed to bring him back to Hogwarts.

Execution date to be fixed.

Beaky has enjoyed London.

I won't forget all the help you gave us.

Hagrid

"They can't do this," said Harry. "They can't. Buckbeak isn't dangerous."

"Malfoy's dad frightened the Committee into it," said Hermione, wiping her eyes. "You know what he's like. They're a bunch of doddery old fools, and they were scared. There'll be an appeal, though, there always is. Only I can't see any hope... nothing will have changed."

"Yeah, it will," said Ron fiercely. "You won't have to do all the work alone this time, Hermione. I'll help."

"Oh, Ron!"