Ch 126
"How was it?" Wood asked eagerly as Harry and Ron entered the common room. "How many points did those Slytherin guys lose to Hufflepuff?"
Wood hadn't watched the match. To him, the process didn't matter—only the result. As a seventh-year about to graduate, he was swamped with responsibilities, buried under piles of forms. Whether in the Muggle world or the wizarding one, this stage of life was always hectic.
"Slytherin won," Harry said dully. There was no anger on his face, only exhaustion.
"Oh?" Wood looked mildly surprised, but didn't dwell on it. However, Ron's next sentence froze his smile completely.
"Slytherin beat Hufflepuff by three hundred and fifty points," Ron said quietly.
"Ron, you're starting to prank people just like Fred and George," Wood said stiffly. "That joke isn't funny."
"It's true," Harry said softly, lowering his head. He stared at the floor, not daring to meet Wood's eyes.
"How is that possible?!" Wood suddenly roared. He grabbed Ron by the collar, his eyes bloodshot.
"I knew it! They must've used some underhanded trick! Hufflepuff students are decent people—they must've been bullied!"
"They didn't break any rules," Harry hurriedly said, reaching out to pull Wood's hand away.
"Then how did the point gap get that big?" Wood shouted. "Don't tell me Hufflepuff deliberately went easy on them!"
"They had seven Firebolts!" Ron yelled back. He wrenched himself free and collapsed into a scarlet armchair.
"Seven… Firebolts?"
Wood's fury vanished as if plunged into ice. His rigid body went slack, and he sank onto the carpet.
"Seven Firebolts…" he murmured over and over, staring blankly ahead. Tears slid silently down his face, though he didn't seem to notice.
Harry had no idea how to comfort him. In truth, Harry himself needed comforting.
He even caught himself thinking—if he had delayed catching the Snitch in the earlier match, if Gryffindor's Chasers had scored a few more goals, maybe Slytherin wouldn't have been able to close the gap so easily.
But it was meaningless self-deception. He had seen how relaxed Slytherin looked today. If they wanted to widen the score further, they absolutely could have.
"By the way," Ron said after a moment, recovering faster than either of them, "where did Hermione go? Didn't she say she'd watch the match with us?"
Harry shook his head. They'd eaten breakfast together and agreed to meet at the stadium, but Hermione never appeared.
Hermione had planned to watch the match.
But something happened on the way.
"Crookshanks!"
The ginger cat suddenly leapt from Hermione's arms, landed neatly on the ground, and seized the hem of her robes in his teeth, tugging her in the opposite direction.
"Meow—meow!" he cried urgently.
"Crookshanks," Hermione said patiently, crouching down, "I promised Harry and Ron I'd watch the match. Can this wait until afterward?"
Human and cat stared at each other.
To Hermione, Crookshanks was more companion than pet. She never ordered him about—she reasoned with him. She knew he understood far more than most animals.
But Crookshanks refused to budge, continuing to pull insistently at her robes.
Hermione hesitated. Her original plan had been to use the Truth Serum on Peter Pettigrew. It was a rare chance—Peter hardly stayed in the castle, but Harry had mentioned that he would attend the match.
She even had the small crystal vial with her.
Crookshanks, however, never acted without reason.
"…Alright," Hermione sighed. "Stop pulling my robes. Show me where you want me to go."
She chose to trust him.
Crookshanks didn't lead her elsewhere.
He led her back to Gryffindor Tower.
"What are you doing?" Hermione murmured, completely baffled.
Crookshanks bounded across the carpet, leapt onto the spiral staircase to the girls' dormitory, then turned to look at her urgently.
Hermione followed, already rehearsing how she would apologize to Harry and Ron later.
Inside the dormitory, Crookshanks grew even more energetic. He leapt onto Hermione's bed and rummaged through her neatly arranged wardrobe, scattering clothes everywhere.
"Crookshanks! What are you looking for?" Hermione exclaimed.
The cat suddenly emerged with something silver and gleaming clenched in his mouth, then jumped straight into her arms.
"The Invisibility Cloak?" Hermione blinked. She had borrowed it from Harry some time ago.
"Are you telling me to return it?" she asked. "Alright, you're right—I've kept it long enough."
Crookshanks shook his head vigorously and tried to drape the cloak over her.
"You want me to wear it?"
He nodded enthusiastically.
Hermione put it on.
Crookshanks immediately dashed off. Hermione hurried after him.
They slipped out of Gryffindor Tower. Crookshanks paused often, sniffing corners and stairwells.
"Crookshanks," Hermione whispered anxiously, "that way leads to Slytherin's dormitory—"
He ignored her, bounding down the stone steps with unmistakable excitement, as if racing toward someone he hadn't seen in a long time.
They were lucky. Two Slytherin students rushed out of their common room, distracted and hurried, never noticing the cat—or the invisible girl slipping in behind them.
"This is only my second time here…" Hermione thought as she took in the dark marble walls, the cold green light, and the eerie view through the lake-facing windows. A strange sense of déjà vu stirred—and then vanished, her memories abruptly blank.
Two stone doors stood before them.
Crookshanks hesitated, then chose the left.
Inside lay the Slytherin dormitory.
The green silk curtains and silver embroidery felt oppressively cold compared to Gryffindor's warmth.
Crookshanks began searching beneath the beds.
"What are you looking for?" Hermione whispered.
She locked the door and cast a light spell, removing the Invisibility Cloak.
"Meow!"
There was joy—and grief—in Crookshanks' cry.
Hermione followed the sound and froze.
Inside a massive black iron cage lay a skeletal black dog. Its breathing was so faint she couldn't tell if it was asleep… or dying.
"Who could do something this cruel?" Hermione whispered angrily.
Crookshanks gazed at the dog with unmistakable sorrow.
"Let's get you out," Hermione said urgently.
Together, they dragged the cage forward. It scraped loudly against the floor, heavy enough to leave Hermione breathless.
There were magical restraints layered over the physical lock, but after a brief inspection, Hermione dismantled them.
She opened the cage.
"You're free," she said gently. "Crookshanks brought me to help you."
The dog didn't move.
"I'll get someone—Professor Dumbledore—"
Suddenly, the dog convulsed.
It raised its head, eyes blazing unnaturally bright. With a violent motion, it slammed into the cage door, warping the iron.
"Easy," Hermione said softly, reaching out. "You're safe now."
The dog staggered back.
Then its body began to change.
Fur receded. Bones stretched. Limbs twisted and reshaped.
In seconds, the cage no longer held a dog—
but a tall, gaunt man standing before Hermione.