Chapter 59: 6-3

It was the first Saturday after the Easter holidays. At long last, the Quidditch Final against Slytherin had arrived. It wasn't just Harry, their Seeker, who was a bundle of nerves; the entire Gryffindor team seemed so overcome with tension that they could hardly swallow a bite of breakfast.

For once, Draco couldn't exactly sit at the Gryffindor table. He was blending in surlily among the sea of green robes, though he had tucked himself away at the very edge of the bench.

A sharp-eyed Pansy was clung tightly to his arm, and on his other side, surprisingly, sat Astoria. Between Astoria and Pansy, he had a "flower in each hand"—though, according to Hermione, one of those flowers was nothing more than an "ill-mannered pug." I couldn't help but stare at Draco, thinking he ought to look a bit happier about it. There he was, fastidiously looking after Astoria, while Pansy was busy fussing over him. The web of their relationships was certainly easy to read.

"Mind if I sit here, Maria?"

"Ginny!"

My face lit up the moment I heard her voice. There is something truly beautiful about the way the sunlight catches her red hair. I didn't care one bit that Ron was over there grumbling to Hermione about how "She always goes to talk to Maria first, completely ignoring her own brother."

"Of course, please, sit down. Is the sun too bright for you? Can you see the pitch clearly from here?"

Seeing Ginny in such high spirits made me beam as well. Then I noticed Draco looking at me with an exasperated expression. ...I suppose no matter where we are, we’re both softies when it comes to our partners.

With Ginny and Hermione beside me—matching Draco’s "flower in each hand" arrangement—I looked down at the fourteen players lined up on the grounds. The two Captains shook hands. (They looked ready to crush each other's bones; the battle had clearly already begun.) Madam Hooch placed the whistle to her lips.

The sound pierced the clear sky. —The match had begun.

The stadium was erupting with excitement at the possibility of the Quidditch Cup going to someone other than Slytherin for the first time in eight years. Lee Jordan’s commentary was full of passion. Perhaps too much passion; he was being reprimanded by Professor McGonagall every other minute.

But you couldn't blame him. Because—

"AAARGH! Flint has just gone and smashed into Wood again! Go on, Angelina! Knock him off his broom!"

There were simply too many Slytherin fouls. And they were blatant, too. Why on earth weren't these people being disqualified?

Beside me, Ginny and Hermione’s cheering had reached a fever pitch.

"You cowards! If you can't win without fouling, then just give up and lose already, you spineless lot!"

"That’s it! Give it to them, Fred! An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth!"

I caught Ron’s eye through the gap between the two girls, who looked ready to leap onto the pitch. Ron’s cheek was twitching. Mine probably was, too. Our beloved ladies certainly are... formidable.

The match descended into the "mud-slinging" fight we had feared. Gryffindor couldn't win the championship unless they caught the Snitch while being at least fifty points ahead.

I could see the frantic look in Harry’s eyes. Ginny was watching him, her hands clenched so tight they were sweating.

"Oh... Harry..."

"...It’ll be okay."

I gently pried Ginny’s clenched hand open and held it instead. If she squeezed any harder, her nails would dig into her palm. If someone had to be hurt, I'd rather it be my hand.

Theodore Nott spotted the Snitch, but Harry was closing in. It was a distance his old Nimbus couldn't have covered. But with his Firebolt—!

After a mid-air scuffle with Theodore that sent them both tumbling, Harry reached his arm straight toward the sky. Within his hand, the golden destiny was shining.

"HARRY!!"

An earth-shattering cheer erupted as a wave of red robes swarmed toward him. There were yellow and blue robes mixed in too. Everyone was wearing a crimson rose pinned to their chest.

"Harry, Harry, Harry! He’s truly wonderful!"

Half-crying, Ginny threw her arms around me with all her might. Hermione was already in tears.

Bathed in a chorus of blessings that made the previous victory feel small, Harry held the Cup aloft. Both Ron and I cried just a little bit, too.

It was an afternoon that instantly cleared away the gloomy atmosphere left by Black’s break-in.

The lingering glow of the Quidditch Cup victory remained only in our hearts, as time at Hogwarts flowed mercilessly toward the impending hell: —Exams.

Harry and Ron, of course, and even Percy and the Weasley twins were hunkered down in a state of high alert. However, the one whose fuse was closest to the spark was Hermione.

She had dark circles under her eyes, and her hair—which never followed orders to begin with—was permanently disheveled, as if she had just rolled out of bed. In truth, she probably felt that using a brush was a waste of precious time.

"Did you see that, Maria?"

"That?"

"Hermione’s exam schedule. How can she have exams for different subjects at the exact same time? How is she supposed to take them? Has she said anything to you? Like... if she's learned a Doubling Charm or something?"

"Hmm, no, I haven't heard anything about a Doubling Charm."

"Then there must be two Hermiones. That makes six twins and one extra in Gryffindor."

I laughed out loud at Ron’s little joke, only to be snapped at by Hermione: "Do that somewhere else!"

Oof. Terrifying.

On the day of the exams, having already lived through my third year once, I managed to get through most subjects without trouble. However—I couldn't clear the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam.

I crossed the pool of Grindylows, navigated the Red Cap holes, and dodged the Hinkypunk through the marsh—but at the very end, standing before the Boggart that had taken the form of that "infant," my mind went completely blank. I started shaking; I couldn't even point my wand.

Somehow, I managed to scramble out of the trunk where the Boggart was kept. It wasn't until I was held by Harry—who had been waiting for me after earning full marks—that I finally remembered how to breathe. Professor Lupin patted my shoulder, telling me I had done a good job.

Why am I still so... of him—

"Hello, Harry. Finished your exams? How did it go? —Oh, and Maria too."

On our way back to the castle from the outdoor DADA exam, we ran into Cornelius Fudge. As usual, Fudge gave Harry a smile full of ulterior motives, while his greeting to me was incredibly dismissive.

Harry, clearly displeased by the way Fudge treated me, only offered suspicious, short grunts in response.

"Why is the Minister at Hogwarts?"

When I asked, Fudge glanced around shiftily and lowered his voice.

"Well—you know Black broke into the castle, don't you? And, Harry! He attacked you!"

"It wasn't Harry, it was me!" Ron interjected.

"Yes—er, Mr. Weasley? Quite right. However, it was Harry that Black was after. Which means—you understand who is in the most danger, don't you?"

"Are you saying it's fine if Ron is attacked by mistake then?!"

"No, no, dear girl—er,"

"Hermione Granger."

"Yes, Miss Granger. That’s not it. Of course not. But—"

The conversation was about to veer off in a disastrous direction, so I held back the indignant Hermione and redirected my question to Fudge.

"Ah, yes. Why I'm here. Regarding the Black matter, well, I must speak with Dumbledore. To ensure Harry’s safety."

Hermione looked ready to snap again about whether Harry was the only one he cared about, so I quickly cut the conversation short.

"Will you only be here tonight?"

"No, I expect I’ll be staying for a few days. Meetings between adults have a way of taking up time."

Fudge hurried away as if escaping Hermione's gaze. Once he was gone, Ron asked Hermione why she had gotten so worked up on his behalf.

"Ron, he’s your father’s top boss. It wouldn't be clever for you to defy him. Harry is under constant surveillance. Maria is Harry’s family. So, as a Muggle-born, it was my job to get angry! That kind of favoritism is simply unacceptable!"

Ron looked deeply impressed by Hermione. She is always so straightforward... especially when it comes to Ronald Weasley.

"See? When Hermione gets angry, it's always for someone else's sake."

Both Harry and Ron smiled broadly and nodded.

It was the final day of exams. I was waiting for Harry at the bottom of the ladder leading to the Divination classroom.

The Prophecy will happen. Last time, the prophecy regarding Pettigrew was made right here. —I have to get the details from Harry.

Harry climbed down the ladder looking utterly dazed. I ran to him immediately.

"Harry, how was it?"

"I don't even know..."

Harry was completely out of it. I did my best to focus his attention and asked about the prophecy made after the exam.

—The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid.

—The servant will set out to rejoin him by midnight.

It was the exact same prophecy as last time, down to the last syllable. Which means—everything moves tonight.

"We have to find Scabbers."

"What?"

I grabbed Harry’s hand and started running toward Gryffindor Tower.

I won't let things go according to the prophecy.

Pettigrew must be caught. I don't care about the Dark Lord's resurrection.

I am going to free Sirius, for real this time.

Just like that day when I broke Delphini’s prophecy—I will prevent Pettigrew’s prophecy from coming true.