SABAISM | H. POTTER

FOUR. | TAKING THE DOG TO THE POUND

When Transfiguration class reached its conclusion, a session that had included not only intricate spells but also Grandma Minnie's rather colorful distaste for a particular seer, the Gryffindor Quartet found themselves trudging toward the Great Hall for the promised midday feast.

"Ron, cheer up," Hermione instructed with firm conviction, her tone delineating the seriousness of the moment. She gently pushed a steaming dish of rich, hearty stew toward her friend, who stared at it as if it were an affront to his senses. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said." But Ron, deeply entrenched in his brooding thoughts, spooned a modest portion of stew onto his plate, his fork poised in mid-air, refusing to engage with the enticing meal.

"Harry," he summoned in a low, humorless voice that barely rose above the clattering of dishes, "you haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?" In a strange twist of fate, Harry felt compelled to respond honestly, "Yeah, I have. Actually, I saw one the night I left the Dursleys'." At this revelation, Ron's silverware fell to the table with a resounding clatter that echoed in the previously bustling hall.

"Probably just a stray," Hermione interjected calmly, her voice a soothing balm in contrast to Ron's agitation. She sought to alleviate some of the tension, wanting nothing more than to restore reason to her friend's mind. Yet Ron glanced at her as though she'd lost her grip on reality. "Hermione," he began, "if Harry's seen a Grim, that's... that's bad. M-my uncle Bilius saw one, and he died twenty-four hours later!" His voice trembled involuntarily, a mixture of fear and disbelief swirling within him.

With an expression of indifference plastered across her face, Hermione arched an eyebrow and coolly retorted, "Coincidence." Her disregard worked like a match to gasoline, igniting Ron's temper. "You don't know what you're talking about!" he yelled, scarlet flush creeping up his cheeks like molten lava. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"There you are, then," Gemini interjected with a tone of superiority, secretly squirming with discomfort over the ominous topic. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen; it's the cause of death! And Harry's still with us because he's not foolish enough to see one and think, 'Right, I'd better kick the bucket then!' Plus, it's well past the twenty-four-hour mark for him, isn't it?" Ron's jaw dropped in sheer disbelief, and he mouthed wordlessly at his new contender, who simply chugged the remainder of her pumpkin juice like a conqueror savoring victory.

"I think Divination seems very woolly. A lot of guesswork, if you ask me," Hermione conceded to Gemini, her resolve seemingly softening as she pulled out her new Arithmancy novel, seeking refuge in its pages.

"There was nothing 'woolly' about the Grim in that cup, you guys," Ron exclaimed heatedly, his fervor unmistakable as he leaned closer to them. "Well," Hermione countered with calculated composure, "you didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was merely a sheep." The taunt earned a chortle from Gemini, who admired Hermione's swift ability to backtrack the conversation. But titters fell silent as Ron opened his mouth once more, that infamous signal that they were in for trouble...particularly for their bushy-haired companion.

"Hermione," he flared, his voice punctuated with indignation, "Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You just don't like being bad at something for a change!"

Oh no, he had struck a nerve. The savant furiously slammed her Arithmancy book onto the table, the action so merciless that bits of meat and carrot flew from the pages like confetti. Heated hazel eyes locked onto icy blue ones, and she exclaimed, "If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared to my Arithmancy class!" With a huff, she snatched her satchel and elegantly stalked away from the group.