𝗦𝗰𝗮𝗿-𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀 - 𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗢𝗻𝗲

17 | Up To Something

Your P.O.V.

"I'd always heard Hogwarts' end-of-year exams were frightful, but I found them rather enjoyable," Hermione says as we walk through the grounds.

"Yeah, they weren't so bad," I agree distractedly, rubbing my neck. My scar's be hurting since we saw Voldemort in the forest.

"Speak for yourselves," Ron grumbles. "All right there Harry?"

"My scar... it keeps burning," Harry complains, holding a hand to his forehead.

"It's happened before," Hermione says, but even she sounds worried.

"Not like this."

"Perhaps you should see the nurse," Ron suggests.

"No," I say suddenly. "It won't help. Mine hurts too."

"You have a scar?" Harry and Ron ask at the same time. I stare at them with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah." I push my hair to the side and show them the cut on my neck.

"It's... it's a lightning bolt too," Harry says in shock.

"Uh-huh. Wait, you've known me all year and you seriously had no idea about the scar? Okay, um, that's just sad. But—"

"I bet Hermione didn't know either!" Ron defends.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Of course I knew!"

"Really, Ron. You do know I'm a girl, right?"

"That's not fair! I'm not blind! Harry, weigh in on this."

"Oh no," Harry mumbles. "Of course!"

"What is it?" Hermione asks.

Harry starts running and we match his pace.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd that what Hagrid wants more than anything is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have one?" Harry asks and I realize we're running to Hagrid's hut. "I mean, how many people wander around with dragon eggs in their pocket?"

"You're right!" I gasp. "Why didn't I see it before?"

We arrive at Hagrid's hut where he's sitting out front playing the flute.

"Hagrid, who gave you the dragon egg? What did he look like?" Harry asks urgently and Hagrid stops playing.

"I don' know. I never saw his face. He kept his hood up."

"That's not suspicious," I mutter.

"The stranger, though, you must have talked," Harry urges.

"Well, he wanted to know what sort o' creatures I looked after. I told him, I said, 'after Fluffy a dragon's gonna be no problem!'"

"Did he seem interested in Fluffy?" I ask fearfully.

"Well, o' course he was interested in Fluffy! How often do you come across a three-headed dog, even if you're in the trade? But I told 'im, I said, I said, 'The trick with any beast is to know how to calm 'im. Take Fluffy, for example, just play him a bit o' music, and he falls straight to sleep.'"

I swear under my breath and the other three glance at each other with worried looks.

"I shouldn't have told you that."

We all turn around and bolt back to the castle, Hagrid shouting at us as we run.

Without speaking we decide to find Professor McGonagall. We burst into her classroom and she looks up from her work.

"We have to see Professor Dumbledore immediately!" Harry says to McGonagall.

"I'm afraid Professor Dumbledore is not here," McGonagall says, taken aback. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and left immediately for London."

"No!" I exclaim. "He can't be gone! This is important!"

"That may be, but—"

"It's about the Philosopher's Stone!" Harry interrupts.

McGonagall is clearly shocked. "How do you know...?"

"Someone's going to try and steal it!" Harry and I say.

"I don't know how you four found out about the Stone, but I assure you it is perfectly well protected. Now, go back to your dormitories. Quietly."

"But—"

"Miss Weasley!"

"Yes, Professor," I grumble.

We walk out and while the others chat I try and think of a way to tell Dumbledore what we know. I'm sure he'll listen.

But how do I get a message to him?

"...Which means he knows how to get past Fluffy," Harry says, probably talking about Snape.

I hear someone breathing behind us and whirl around.

"Professor Snape," I greet stiffly, more as a warning to my friends to shut up than actually talking to Snape.

"Good afternoon," he returns icily.

The trio jump and whip around to face him.

"Now, what would four young Gryffindors such as yourselves be doing inside on a day like this?"

"W-w-we-we-we-we were just..." Hermione stutters.

"Harry's not feeling well," I tell Snape. "We're taking him to see Madam Pomfrey."

"He seems fine to me," Snape counters, clearly suspicious.

"Looks can be deceiving," I say, staring him down, which probably looks quite ridiculous considering the height difference.

"Well, you ought to be careful. People may think you're... up to something."

He struts off and I look at my friends.

"Now what do we do?" Hermione asks.

Harry and I look at each other and I nod to him.

"We go down the trapdoor. Tonight."

A/N: That was fcking short, and I wanted it to be longer, but my writer's block said "hell nah" and here we are.

The next chapter will be longer I swear!

Hope you enjoyed!

- Amy <3