The Cupboard Series 4: The Fourth School

Chapter 19

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as the hovercraft pulled up in front of its shed in Potter Haven. Being back in the valley was a load off of his mind. It was so much safer and a heck of a lot saner.

The idea of having breakfast in Hogwarts' Great Hall before they left had only been marginally passed and none of them lingered overly long. Eyes everywhere had watched him, especially after the Daily Prophet had arrived, even if it was half an hour later than usual.

For once, it seemed that the Prophet had been fairly accurate, mirroring Xenophilius Lovegood's, well, Luna's, article in The Quibbler. Each of the three Champions had been named before the piece delved into the fiasco of the fourth name, his name, coming out of the cup. The vows that he'd made about not entering his name had been reported upon before the writer had delved into speculation about what that meant in regards to whether or not he would have to compete.

Unfortunately, nothing from the late night meeting had made its way to Prophet in time for that edition. Harry hoped that after he and the other Diricawl students had told their Hogwarts friends what had happened, that it'd get put through the usual Hogwarts rumour mill. Which meant that it should have been all over the school and winging its way to parents clutched in the talons of an owl, long before they'd finally left.

"Alright, folks, end of the line," Sirius stated cheerfully as he entered the hovercraft's sitting room.

His announcement was fairly redundant as most of them were already on their feet. Harry headed for the door and followed along down the corridor, past the small galley before stopping at the door to the main deck. He glanced at his pack, mentally cataloguing that he had everything and didn't need to continue down the corridor to the bunk room that he'd stayed in. Each room held beds for four and, with there being half a dozen rooms, Sirius had made sure that the hovercraft could hold everyone.

Reaching the ground, Harry made to follow the others towards the manor when he felt a hand touch his.

"Would you care to take a walk, Harry?" Hermione smiled shyly.

"Yeah, I think that I'd like that," Harry replied.

He'd barely glanced at his pack before he felt it disappear; it seemed that Dobby was on the ball today.

Feeling bold, Harry took Hermione's hand as he led her off onto the path that led down to the loch. A couple of whistles followed them, but Harry ignored them, not even bothering with working out who'd made them. His whole focus right then was the feeling of the small, soft hand in his and the girl walking beside him.

They walked in silence and the longer that they did so, the more uncomfortable Harry began to feel. It was a puzzling sensation. Hermione, he knew, was the one that he always felt more comfortable with before this. She was the one who knew him best, just as he knew her best. They fit together, he felt, complemented each other and were always able to work together.

Hermione was, without a doubt, Harry's very best friend, the one he cherished above all others.

But that kiss the night before had changed things.

And that was what was making Harry so uncomfortable now.

He didn't want things to change. Well, if he was being honest, it was more that he didn't want to mess anything up. What he wanted was for them to always be best friends.

A small hillock overlooking the loch caught his attention and he led her off the path to a place that they could sit together and enjoy the view.

As they sat, the silence began to stretch and Harry found that he couldn't take it any longer.