The Road Not Taken: Chapter Seventeen Part One

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Chapter Sixteen

The Road Not Taken: Chapter Seventeen Part One



In the weeks that followed, Hermione was on a sharp look out for Snape and Quirrell. They had informed Neville about what they had overheard; he, too, was skeptical about Snape being the one after the Stone. Harry suggested that they bring Draco and Nott into their confidences. Hermione flat-out refused, but he was working on her.

The Slytherins were aloof for the first few days after Gryffindor’s win over Hufflepuff; but when Slytherin destroyed Ravenclaw, the House was in a much better mood. Harry noticed that the first years had broken up into cliques: Parkinson was the queen bee of the first year girls, Crabbe and Goyle had become lackeys of a fifth year boy Harry couldn’t name, while Zabini seemed to stay neutral in the center. Draco and Nott were the most social of the Slytherins. Draco, really, Harry amended, was the most social of the Slytherins. Harry noted that the Malfoy heir was also making friends with a few Ravenclaw students as well. Not all of them were pure bloods, either, which quirked Harry’s interest. I wonder how Lucius is taking these signs of his son’s independence.

Hermione’s vigilance, however, soon took a back seat to studying. The witch had started drawing up even more detailed study schedules and prodded them all into color coding their notes.

“Hermione,” Neville said one spring afternoon in the library. “The exams are ages away.”

“Ten weeks,” Hermione snapped. “That’s not ages. That’s like a second to Nicolas Flamel.”

“But we’re not six-hundred-years old,” Neville pointed out. “Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know it all.”

“What am I studying for? Are you mad? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into second year? They’re very important. I should have been studying a month ago. I don’t know what’s gotten into me…”

Harry had just hidden a smile and passed Neville the colored markers. I hope this Hermione never changes.

Harry had to admit, though, that Hermione’s method of studying did have its advantages. Thanks to her, Harry had relearned all of the basics of his spell work, bit by bit, which made things from his murkier memories of his first life make much more sense. The small details about Transfiguration, for example, in the supplemental reading Hermione had forced upon them, helped Harry to beat out Draco for second spot in the lists for that class. Harry was best at Charms, still. They did not come as naturally to him as Defense Against the Dark Arts, but he worked harder at Charms because of it. He wanted that connection with his mother’s memory, to be like her in some way, instead of always being compared to his dad.

Their professors seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren’t nearly as much fun as Christmas. Harry and Neville did get Hermione out of the castle, tricking her into the spring sunshine by telling her that they needed to practice real charms, which Madam Pince wouldn’t allow in the library.

“We should be studying,” Hermione frowned at them as they encamped on the beach by the lake.

“We are studying,” Harry said. He peeled his robe off and folded it on top of his ratty book bag. He’d buy a new one next year, he promised himself.

“But…”

“Look, some of our exams are practical, right? The one sure way we can ace those is if we practice now.”

Light dawned on Hermione’s face. “Yes. Yes, that’s brilliant, Harry!”

“Let’s start with Charms, first. Then we can move on into the hard stuff.”

“Charms is hard,” Neville made a face.

“Not really. Here, where’s our first semester list?” Harry ran Neville through the Charms they had learned, spell by spell. Hermione was content to work by herself to one side.

“Oh, I’ll never remember all of this,” Neville moaned.

Harry had an idea. It was originally Hermione’s idea, to help Harry and Ron learn their schoolwork in Auror training in his first life. Harry pushed the ache of the memories aside and asked, “How about if we turn it into a game?”

“A game?” Hermione dropped the pebble she had levitated.

“Like tag or - or something. We come up with a number of Charms and a rule set and make a game out of it,” Harry raised his eyebrows at them.

“A game,” Hermione mused. “All right. But what kind of game?”

Harry thought fast. “How about we start with Wingardium Leviosa?”

“And?”

“We sketch out a giant backgammon game board. We have a small push spell, too, right? And we can Transfigure a rock into the dice, but you have to Transfigure it with every round so you can practice!”

Hermione and Neville were wary at first, but seemed game. They used their feet to sketch out a board on the sands of the beach. After they ran through the spells they needed, they started the game. Harry opted out of the first round - Hermione was still trying to beat Neville at the game. The witch had only won twice in more than a dozen matches with the other Gryffindor.

After a few rounds, Neville seemed to relax. Hermione seemed unsure as to whether or not she should be having so much fun while studying, but relaxed more and more as her dice started to come easier and easier to her wand.

That was how Harry got the pair of them outside for every day of the Easter break. A lot of the students went home, but Hermione and Neville had opted to stay. Harry was just glad to be out in the sun instead of cooped up. He had always loved the spring.

It was in the middle of a match between Harry and Neville that Draco and Nott found them the day before classes started again.

“What are you doing?” Draco peered at them.

“We’re playing backgammon!” Neville beamed a smile at them.

“It looks more like shuffleboard to me,” said Nott.

“We’re reviewing our term spells for Charms and Transfiguration,” Hermione added. “See? We have to transfigure the game pieces circular, and then flatten them to discs. Then for the dice we have to transfigure squares, and have the correct number pattern on them each time we roll.”

Harry wanted to laugh at Nott’s speculative expression.

“So you’re studying and playing at the same time?” Draco lit up. “Can we play?”

“We’ll need to find a game that has more than four players,” Hermione said.

“I can sit out,” Harry offered.

“Harry, no!” Hermione glared at him. “You’re always sitting out for us. Let’s find a game we can all take part in.”

That was how they all ended up on the weekends near the lake, piecing together Muggle and wizarding games into a mish-mash free-for-all that combined Charms and Transfiguration. Harry loved it - and he could see how he could adapt it, later, for use in learning Defense spells and to help teach Dumbledore’s Army.

If we’ll need the DA, Harry frowned at the grim thought. Maybe there will be a way to avoid all that mess and keep everyone out of it, this time.

They still met in the library during the week, plowing through the piles of homework the professors heaped on their heads.

They were hip deep in an Herbology essay when Harry heard Hermione say, “Hagrid? What are you doing in the library?”

Harry glanced up to see Hagrid duck into the long row of books to avoid Madam Pince’s stare.

“Oh, nothin’,” Hagrid said. “What’re you lot up ter?”

Harry caught Draco and Nott’s suspicious expressions.

“We’re studying,” Neville said. “Looking up stuff.”

“Yer not still lookin’ for Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?”

“Nicolas Flamel?” Draco peered at them.

“Oh, we found out who he is,” Neville said, eyes still on his Herbology paper. “And we think we know what Fluffy’s guard- ow!” He dropped his quill. “Hermione that hurt!”

“Guarding?” Nott raised an eyebrow.

“Hush, now,” Hagrid glanced between the Slytherins and Gryffindor first years. “You lot ain’t supposed to - oh, fer Merlin’s sake, don’t go yellin’ about it now.”

“We are not the ones yelling,” Draco pointed out. “And - what are we talking about? Potter?”

“Malfoy?” Harry drawled back.

“Actually, Hagrid,” Hermione said. “There were a few things I wanted to ask you about -”

“Shh,” Hagrid shook his shaggy head. “Listen - come an’ see me later. I’m not sayin’ I’ll tell you anything, mind, but don’ go rabbitting about it in here, students aren’t s’pposed ter know.” Hagrid put a finger over his lips for good measure, gave them an intense look from under his brows and shuffled off, down the row of shelves to the side door where Madam Pince would not be able to see him leave.

“He had something behind his back,” Nott leaned an elbow onto the table.

“A book?” Hermione asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“He’s supposed to check them out.”

“So why would he take a book from the library without checking it out?”

Merlin help us, Harry wanted to mutter at the speculative look that passed between Hermione and Theodore Nott. These two are a menace when they’re together.

“Just what are you hiding, Potter?” Draco demanded.

“Hiding, Malfoy?”

Draco made a face. “You - you haven’t told us yet, Potter. Harry,” he added at Harry’s sharp glance.

“Not here,” Harry said, closing his books.

“But our essays!” Hermione cried.

“Are due in a week. We can work on them later,” Harry shook his head. “Come on.”

Harry waited until they were out by the lake to talk. Enough of the student body - and the professors - had seen them out there to not immediately be suspicious at the sight of them gathered together.

“All right,” Harry said to Draco’s mulish expression. “This is what’s been going on.” He laid out the events that had snagged their speculation, about Fluffy, which the Slytherins knew about, about Hermione’s suspicious about what Fluffy could be guarding, about Hagrid’s slip of the tongue, and what they had found out about Flamel.

“It’s not Professor Snape,” Draco protested after Hermione laid out her theory.

“But it all fits!”

“It’s all circumstantial,” Nott snapped. “And besides, if Professor Snape really wanted this Stone - if there is a treasure - he would have it already. Professor Snape is a Slytherin, Granger. He’s loads more cunning than this.”

Hermione made a face. “Maybe.”

“Maybe? Of course he’d be able to -”

“Draco,” Harry cut him off.

“He’s an amazing wizard,” Draco waved his arms in the air. “He wouldn’t need a bloody Stone or whatever in the first place!”

“He tried to kill Harry,” Hermione snapped at Draco.

Oh, Merlin, Harry pinched the bridge of his nose.

“He did not.”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did too! I saw him jinx Harry’s broom with my own eyes! He was staring right at Harry, incanting!”

“That’s how you counter-jinx something, you twit!”

“Hey!”

“Draco,” Harry frowned.

“Snape hates Harry,” Hermione scowled at the Slytherins. “He’s all over Gryffindor for the slightest infraction. He mocked Harry on our first day of classes - it’s obvious Snape’s out to hurt him!”

“It is not,” Draco retorted.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Is too!”

“Is not!”

“Enough,” Harry had enough. Shocked eyes turned to him. “I, personally, am not convinced it’s Snape who is after the Stone. Quirrell has just as much evidence against him.”

Nott let out a snort.

“As far as Snape being out to kill me,” Harry held up a hand as Draco was about to shout, “if he really wanted to kill me, there are a hundred better ways to finish me off rather than kick me off a broom. He’s a Potions Master, right? He has dozens of poisonous herbs in his storerooms. Slipping something into my food would be the easiest method of my demise - not to mention that if he was really smart about it, Snape could probably poison me with something that left no trace and therefore ensure that he never got caught for my murder.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“What?” Harry frowned at them.

Nott and Draco exchanged a glance. Hermione set her hands on her hips. “Harry, that is one of the most morbid things I have ever heard.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s just the truth.”

Neville touched Harry’s arm. “You haven’t been sleeping well, mate. Is it because you’ve been thinking about this?”

Time to change the subject. “Look, I think there are a lot of facts that don’t add up right. We just need to keep our eyes open. I think we can all agree that someone seems to be after the Stone.”

“If there is a Stone,” Nott said.

“I still think it’s Snape,” Hermione protested.

“It could be anybody,” Draco snapped.

“Exactly,” Harry said. “So that’s what we’ve been up to,” he shrugged. “Now you know.”

Draco squinted at Harry, took a breath, hesitated, glanced at Nott, who shrugged and then said, “Can we come to Hagrid’s with you?”

Harry blinked. “Sure. If you want.”

“Good,” said Nott. That was all they would say on the matter.

~*~

They knocked on the door of the gamekeeper’s hut an hour later. Harry had insisted on putting his things away, not wanting to haul all his books, inks and quills around for the rest of the afternoon.

They were ushered in by a shifty-eyed Hagrid. Harry hid a smile at the way Draco gaped at the room, eyes huge as he took in the living space, the game skins hanging from the walls and everything else in Hagrid’s home. Nott was a bit more composed, but not by much.

It was stifling hot inside. Hagrid offered them tea and stout sandwiches as they sat on the stuffed couches and armchairs.

“No, thank you,” Draco said, voice faint.

Hagrid stood in front of the fire, a fine sheen of sweat on his broad face. “So…yeh wanted to ask me somethin’?”

“Yes,” said Hermione. “We were wondering if you would tell us what’s guarding the Sorcerer’s Stone, apart from Fluffy.”

Harry caught Nott’s wince and the way the Slytherin covered his eyes.

Hagrid frowned at them. “O’ course I can’t. Number one, I don’ know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn’ tell yeh if I could. That Stone’s there for a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringott’s - I s’ppose yeh’ve worked that out an’ all? Beats me how yeh even know abou’ Fluffy.”

“Come now, Hagrid,” Nott said. “You might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on around here.” Nott gave the man wide, innocent eyes. Harry wanted to snort and laugh at the same time.

“Besides,” Hermione seemed to pick up on Nott’s idea. “We’re only wondering who had done the guarding, really. We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you.”

There was a flush to Hagrid’s cheeks. “Well, I don’ s’ppose it could hurt to tell yeh that. Let’s see…he borrowed Fluffy from me, then some o’ the teachers did the enchantments. Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall,” he ticked them off on his fingers. “Professor Quirrell an’ Dumbledore, himself did something o’ course. Hang on, I’ve forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape.”

“Snape?” Hermione yelped. Draco shot them a ‘there, you see?’ glance.

“Yeah - yer not still on about that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he’s not about ter steal it.”

“Thank you, Hagrid. That’s what we’ve been trying to tell them,” Draco rolled his eyes.

“Still,” Hermione frowned. “It would be easy to get past the protections if you already knew what they were, right? Please tell me, Hagrid, that you’re the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, right? You haven’t told anyone, not even the teachers?”

“Not a soul knows except me an’ Dumbledore,” said Hagrid.

“Well, that’s something,” Neville tugged at his collar. “Hagrid, can we open a window? I’m boiling.”

“Can’t Neville, sorry,” Hagrid twisted a glance at the fire.

“What’s that?” Draco sounded awed.

Harry already knew what they’d find. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

“Ah,” said Hagrid. “That’s ah, er…”

“Where did you get it?” Draco was on his knees by the hearth in a flash.

“Won it,” said Hagrid. “Las’ night. I was down in the village havin’ a few drinks an’ got into a game o’ cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest.”

“But what are you going to do with it when it’s hatched?” asked Neville.

“Well, I’ve been doin’ some readin’,” Hagrid crossed the room and pulled a large book from under his pillow. “Got this outta the library - Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit - it’s a bit outta date, o’ course, but it’s all in here.”

“May I see?” Draco crowded up to him.

“Sure. See? Keep the egg in the fire, ‘cause their mothers breathe on ‘em, an’ when it hatches, feed it a bucket o’ brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An’ see here,” Hagrid and Draco were bent over the book. “This here, how ter recognize diff’rent eggs. What I got there’s a Norwegian Ridgeback.”

“They’re rare,” Draco breathed.

Neville looked a bit queasy. Hermione was pinching the bridge of her nose. Nott looked about ready to join her.

“Hagrid, you live in a wooden house,” she exclaimed.

Neither Draco nor Hagrid were listening. The pair were crouched by the fire, pointing at the egg and then at a table in the book, oblivious to the rest of them.

Merlin, what have I done, was all Harry could think, staring at the two of them.

Part Two