❝𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲?❞
❝𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦.❞
𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 had a few, perhaps a little or more than a palm of qualms in his life. First up was the whole "The Boy-Who-Lived" shenanigans, then there was an ungodly am...
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XLVIII. SOME THINGS CAN NEVER CHANGE
━━━━━━
"My rose garden dreams, set on fire by fiends
And all my black beaches (are ruined)"
AFTER HAVING FIXED THE TIME of their first ever full practice for the following Thursday, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Marjorie bade goodbye to the rest of the team and headed off toward Hagrid's. A watery sun was trying to break through the clouds now and it had stopped drizzling at last.
"I thought I was going to miss that fourth penalty," Ron was saying happily. "Tricky shot from Demelza, did you see, had a bit of spin on it —"
"Yes, yes, you were magnificent," said Hermione, looking amused.
"I was better than that McLaggen anyway," said Ron in a highly satisfied voice. "Did you see him lumbering off in the wrong direction on his fifth? Looked like he'd been Confunded..."
Marjorie glanced sidelong at Hermione, noticing the deep flush spreading across her cheeks. Hermione's eyes darted to the ground, her face a shade of pink that made Marjorie stifle a smile. Ron, blissfully unaware, remained engrossed in recounting his penalty shots with loving gusto.
As they approached Hagrid's cabin, the great grey hippogriff, Buckbeak, was tethered patiently in front. The majestic creature's sharp beak clicked as he regarded their approach, his large, intelligent eyes following their movements.
"Oh dear," Hermione said, her voice tinged with apprehension. "He's still a bit intimidating, isn't he?"
"It's nice. It's part of his charm," said Marjorie softly, her eyes going gentle as she looked at the hippogriff. Then her lips curved downwards slightly, "Hagrid said that he's been feeling a bit down... reckon it's because of Sirius..." she added a bit more quieter.
Harry inhaled sharply at Marjorie's words, a wave of sadness washing over him.
"Come off it, you've ridden him, haven't you?" Ron said dismissively, not fully grasping the depth of the sentiment.
Harry stepped forward, his movements deliberate and calm. He bowed low to Buckbeak, his eyes never leaving the hippogriff's gaze. After a few tense moments, Buckbeak lowered his massive head in return.
"How are you?" Harry asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to stroke the hippogriff's feathery head. "Missing him? But you're okay here with Hagrid, aren't you?"
A loud voice interrupted the quiet exchange.
"Oi!"
Hagrid's booming voice called out from behind the corner of his cabin. He emerged wearing a large, floral apron that was slightly too small for his frame, and carrying a heavy sack of potatoes. His enormous boarhound, Fang, bounded alongside him, barking joyfully and leaping forward with boundless energy.
