The Three Brothers: The Cure

For the Record

22nd November 1992

The sound of the quill-tip snapping under his fingers brought Harry's attention back to the real world. Looking at the parchment, he realised that he had managed to doodle a rather ornate looking snitch on it. Sighing audibly, he looked over to his companions. Hermione was writing down copious notes from one of the reference books on Potions, her brows furrowed in concentration. Ron, on the other hand, was reading through a battered notebook filled with sparse notes while referencing it with an equally sparse copy of Mark's notes. Harry was still in awe of the efficiency with which his friend studied. Exactly what was required—neither more nor less. Harry had tried reading through Mark's haphazard notes, trying to make some sense of the broken sentences and circled words. He couldn't. But Ron could.

They were here in the library today because Hermione had insisted that they start preparing for the term exams already—even though they were still four weeks away. Not that Harry didn't want to study; a small part of him wanted to do his best to make his parents proud, now that he was away from the Dursleys. But today, all his mind kept returning to was the last conversation he had had with Hagrid.

"Hermione, what do they do with all the essays and homework that we submit?" asked Harry, voicing the question that was niggling in the back of his mind for the past few days. Hermione, surprised by the question, narrowed her eyes at him.

"Why do you ask Harry?"

"Just curious."

He could see that Hermione wasn't entirely convinced by his explanation, but she carried on anyway.

"Well, it depends on the professor —" said Hermione.

"Maybe Snape uses his to blow his nose," Ron interrupted. "Or to wipe his —"

"That's Professor Snape, Ron," Hermione interrupted, a slight smile on her face. She must be warming up to their jokes about Snape, thought Harry. "Anyway," she continued, "all the student records are kept in the records room beside Filch's office."

"Really? All of them?" Harry asked, his mind quickly trying to fathom the implications. "Hogwarts must be keeping a thousand years of records then! The room must be huge!"

"It's not that big of a deal, Harry," Ron said. "Magic, remember? A few spells and you can expand the room to your liking."

Harry nodded in understanding. He still wasn't accustomed to thinking in terms of magic and all that it could do; all the things wizards like Ron took for granted.

"Although that's correct," Hermione intervened, drawing their attention back to her. "Hogwarts doesn't keep all the records beyond twenty-five years."

Seeing the looks of curiosity and disbelief on the two boys, she continued her explanation.

"Yes. In eighteen twenty-seven, a man named Dervin appealed to the board to have all old records purged periodically."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Probably didn't want anyone to see how bad he did at Charms when he was twelve," scoffed Ron before turning towards Hermione. "But how and why do you know this Hermione?"

"Well — um." Hermione spluttered, her cheeks colouring in embarrassment. As both of them showed no signs of backing down on the matter, she relented.

"Okay, fine. I wanted to check Professor Dumbledore's school records," she took a pause, before continuing in a low voice, "So that I could keep them as a target for me to look up to."

"You don't need to do that Hermione. You're already brilliant!" Ron exploded, "Plus that was a century ago. You can't expect to compare against the curriculum of that time. Mental, that is!"