Rosabella Black |Daughter Of Sirius Black| (Book 5)

OWLs

Rosabella's Point of View:
Ron's euphoria at helping Gryffindor scrape the Quidditch cup was such that he couldn't settle to anything next day. I couldn't stop smiling. I was so happy we won but I was also do proud of Ron. But something seemed off about Harry and Hermione, as if they were trying to tell us something. But all Ron wanted to do was talk over the match. As it was another fine, warm day, we persuaded Ron to join us in revising under the beech tree at the edge of the lake. Ron was not particularly keen on this idea at first, he was thoroughly enjoying being patted on the back by every Gryffindor who walked past his chair, not to mention the occasional outbursts of 'Weasley is our King'--but after a while he agreed that some fresh air might do him good.
We spread our books out in the shade of the beech tree and sat down while Ron talked us through his first save of the match for what felt like the dozenth time.
    "Well, I mean, I'd already let in that one of Davies's, so I wasn't feeling all that confident, but I dunno, when Bradley came towards me, just out of nowhere, I thought what Ro's been telling me for months, you can do this! And I had about a second to decide which way to fly, you know, because he looked like he was aiming for the right goalhoop-- my right, obviously, his left--but I had a funny feeling that he was feinting, and so I took the chance and flew left--his right, I mean and well you saw what happened." Ron concluded modestly, sweeping his hair back quite unnecessarily so that it looked interestingly windswept and glancing around to see whether the people nearest to them--a bunch of gossiping third-year Hufflepuffs--had heard him.
  "And then, when Chambers came at me about five minutes later-What?" Ron asked, having stopped mid-sentence at the look on Harry's face.
   "Why are you grinning?" Ron asked.
   "I'm not. I'm just glad we won, that's all." Harry said, quickly.
   "Yeah, we won." Ron said slowly, savouring the words.
   "Did you see the look on Chang's face when Ginny got the Snitch right out from under her nose?" I said, smirking.
    "I suppose she cried, did she?" Harry said bitterly.
    "Well, yeah. More out of temper than anything, though." Ron frowned slightly.
    "But you saw her chuck her broom away when she got back to the ground, didn't you?" I asked, chuckling.
   "Er-" Harry said.
   "Well, actually . . . no, Ron. As a matter of fact, the only bit of the match Harry and I saw was Davies's first goal." Hermione said with a heavy sigh, putting down her book and looking at him apologetically.
Ron's carefully ruffled hair seemed to wilt with disappointment.
   "You didn't watch? You didn't see me make any of those saves?" Ron said faintly, looking from one to the other.
   "Well--no but Ron, we didn't want to leave, we had to!" Hermione said, stretching out a placatory hand towards him.
    "Yeah? How come?" Ron said, whose face was growing rather red.
    "It was Hagrid. He decided to tell us why he's been covered in injuries ever since he got back from the giants. He wanted us to go into the Forest with him, we had no choice, you know how he gets. Anyway . . ." Harry said.
The story of Grawp was told in five minutes, by the end of which Ron's indignation had been replaced by a look of total incredulity. My mouth fell open in shock.
   "He brought one back and hid it in the Forest?" I asked in disbelief.
   "Yep." Harry said grimly.
   "No. No, he can't have." Ron said, as though by saying this he could make it untrue.
    "He wants us to teach him English?" I asked.
    "Yes, but Hagrid said that he thinks you'd be the best because you learned a language." Hermione told me.
I opened and closed my mouth speechless.
  "Grawp's about sixteen feet tall, enjoys ripping up twenty-foot pine trees, and knows me, as Hermy.' Hermione snorted.
Ron and I gave a nervous laugh.
    "He's lost his mind." Ron said in an almost awed voice.
    "Yes, I'm starting to think he has. But, unfortunately, he made Harry and me promise." Hermione said irritably, turning a page of Intermediate Transfiguration and glaring at a series of diagrams showing an owl turning into a pair of opera glasses.
   "Well, you're just going to have to break your promise, that's all. I mean, come on . . . we've got exams and we're about that far–" Ron said firmly and he held up his hand to show thumb and forefinger almost touching"–from being chucked out as it is. And anyway . . . remember Norbert? Remember Aragog? Have we ever come off better for mixing with any of Hagrid's monster mates?" Ron finished.
   "I know, it's just that . . . we promised." Hermione said in a small voice.
Ron smoothed his hair flat again, looking preoccupied.
   "Well, Hagrid hasn't been sacked yet, has he? He's hung on this long, maybe he'll hang on till the end of term and we won't have to go near Grawp at all." Ron sighed.
The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted. The cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake. The satin green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze. June had arrived, but to the fifth-years this meant only one thing: our OWLs were upon us at last.
Why, oh why, was I born in June.