Chapter 56: 5-3

Even after the new term began, things remained strained between Harry and me. The tension was contagious; Hermione and Ron had effectively "split" to keep us company. Ron stayed by Harry’s side, while Hermione looked after me. It was such a shame, especially since we had only just managed to smooth over the whole ordeal with Crookshanks and Scabbers.

“It’s the first time I’ve ever felt like I didn’t understand how Harry feels.”

I absentmindedly stroked Sirius, who had rested his chin on my knees. I draped another blanket over him until he was completely bundled up. I had been bringing him the Quidditch magazines and copies of The Daily Prophet that Harry had finished reading, so he seemed to have enough to keep himself occupied.

It’s probably not the sort of thing you should give to a dog, but Sirius seems happy, so I suppose it’s fine. Crookshanks still watches us with that look of utter disdain. (I got a predatory swat from a paw as if to say, “That’s just my face.”)

Shifting from his stomach, Sirius turned only his head toward me, his grey eyes looking up with concern. It was a completely human movement. Oh, Sirius.

Still, I appreciated his worry. It must be painful for him to see his godchildren (though technically Harry is the only one he officially named) at odds like this. People always used to say Harry and I were far too close for our own good.

“Harry is learning the Patronus Charm from Professor Lupin right now. I wanted to go with him, but...”

Sirius stood up. The blankets piled on top of him rose in a lumpy, shifting mass—it looked so comical I couldn't help but laugh. He reached out and licked my cheek affectionately.

“Yeah. I know. Thank you... Mr. Black Dog.”

I buried my face in the relatively soft fur around his neck. His coat, which I had cleaned with Scourgify every time we met, was truly beautiful now. And so fluffy. In the winter, I’d almost want to use him as a personal heater.

Our kind, childish, and fiercely loyal guardian. My goal is to set you free. I don’t want to keep you locked away anymore. I don’t want to see you reach that—that tragic end after a life of such misery.

And yet, I keep taking the long way around. I’ve become such a coward. Now, I understand Dumbledore’s feelings—why he wouldn't act without absolute certainty—to a painful degree.

Back then, I used to get so frustrated, wondering why he wouldn’t tell us anything, or why he didn’t act sooner if he already knew. But you can’t move pieces on a board this terrifying based on mere speculation.

Dumbledore and I are both only human, after all. That man was just as much of a coward as I am.

“I wonder what Harry’s Patronus will be. A stag, I expect.”

Watching Sirius wag his tail happily at the thought, I forced a smile to kill the loneliness creeping in.

As the match drew nearer, Harry became increasingly high-strung. And on our side, so did Hermione.

Hermione was reaching her breaking point with the overlapping classes made possible by her Time-Turner. Day after day, she sat in the corner of the Common Room, speaking to no one, buried under a mountain of homework. Even without the Buckbeak case this time, the sheer volume of work was abnormal.

Naturally, that left me with no one to talk to—or so I thought, but the troublemaking twins and Ginny stepped in to keep me company. Truly, the Weasleys are the most warm-hearted family.

Amidst those stressful days, a gust of wind like a spring thaw finally blew in. The Firebolt had been returned to Harry. Nearly every Gryffindor gathered in the Common Room erupted in cheers.

“It’s brilliant, Harry! Let me touch it. Just a touch!”

“Give me a photo of you and the Firebolt, Harry!”

“Ravenclaw hasn’t got a prayer now. It’s a Firebolt! We’ll steamroll them!”

“Whoa, it’s amazing... I’m going to tell Mum and Dad I actually touched a real Firebolt!”

Leaving the crowd buzzing around the broom, Harry made his way over to me. Even though I saw his face every day—and even brushed his hair for him—it felt like it had been forever.

“You were right, Maria.”

“See?”

“Yeah. ...Listen, Maria—”

Harry didn't get to finish. Ron, who had gone to reverently place the Firebolt in the dormitory, came charging back with a look of pure fury, clutching a bedsheet. He marched straight toward Hermione, who was buried in her studies.

“LOOK AT THIS!”

I could see red stains on the sheet. Ah, that—he finally noticed.

“Don’t you see?! It’s blood! Scabbers is gone, and this blood was left on the sheets! Why don't you use that great brain of yours to figure out what that means?!”

He slammed the sheet down right on top of the essay Hermione was writing. Hermione didn't even have the breath to be angry; she just looked distraught.

“B-but, Crookshanks has been being so good!”

“Only because Maria was stopping him! Maria being there is the only reason Scabbers lived as long as he did! The moment Maria’s back is turned, this happens! Don’t you get it?! My Scabbers is dead because you wouldn't discipline that bloody beast!”

That did it. Hermione snapped into combat mode. To her, Ron’s words were the kind of prejudice and baseless accusations she hated most.

“You’re just determined to make Crookshanks the villain, aren't you? Well, let me ask you—is it really so strange for a cat to chase a rat? Besides, you have absolutely no evidence! Can you prove that’s Scabbers’ blood? Did anyone actually see Crookshanks eat him?!”

“I’ve had enough of your logic-chopping!”

“And I’ve had enough of your prejudice!”

The atmosphere, which had been so festive because of the Firebolt, instantly plummeted back into a winter chill. For the first time in a while, we Potter siblings reached out, held hands, and sighed with the exact same expression.

Honestly, it’s just one thing after another!

Later, in the silent Common Room where everyone else had gone to sleep, I stared blankly at the crackling fire. I didn't want to deal with Hermione’s wrath in the dormitory, and I wanted a quiet place to figure out how and when to catch Scabbers.

“Maria.”

With a soft thud, he sat down next to me and leaned his weight against my shoulder. His messy black hair was ticklish and comforting.

“...I started practicing the charm to summon a Patronus with Professor Lupin.”

“I know.”

Warmth began to seep through me.

“He’s using a Boggart to stand in for a Dementor.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I heard my Mum’s voice... but I heard Dad, too. He died trying to protect her and us.”

“...Yeah.”

“And the other day, I saw a memory. It was... the time you almost died from the Basilisk venom.”

I startled and looked at him. Harry was staring into the embers of the fireplace with the same hollow eyes I probably had.

“Sometimes, Maria... it looks like you’re in such a hurry to live. Like you want to die.”

“That’s not—”

“I know it’s not. I know. ...But I’m scared.”

His voice was so thin and fragile that I pulled him into a fierce hug.

God, how could I? Was that day so traumatizing that it ranks among the despairs a Dementor shows him? I hurt this boy so much.

“You’re full of secrets, Maria. You make me so anxious... you’re horrible.”

“I really am.”

“But it’s only because I love you so much.”

“...I know. I love you too, Harry. So much.”

Harry wrapped his arms around my back, and we clung to each other just like we did when we were children.

“...Is it something you can't tell me?”

“...I can. I just haven't found the courage yet. ...Will you wait for me?”

Harry gave a soft smile. It was a smile like the first melt of spring.

Our sibling spat, which had dragged everyone else into the fray, had finally come to an end.