Chapter 136 — The Stone in My Hand

Through the open window I could see the edge of the colander. Ron stood beside it while Hagrid moved the jug, and a small grey shape pressed against the holes in the metal. Harry put his hand on the fence and began to straighten.

‘He’s there. We could take him now.’ His wand was already in his other hand, held low enough to stay behind the wood.

‘There are five people in that room,’ I said. ‘Three of them would be looking at their own faces.’

‘We could explain.’ Harry looked towards the window again, but I kept my hand against his sleeve.

‘Or somebody could reach for a wand before we finished.’ I glanced at the one he was holding, and he lowered it a little further. We had all seen how quickly a room full of people could become a fight.

‘Then we leave him?’ Harry asked. He stayed crouched beside the fence, though the effort of doing so was visible in his shoulders.

I watched the movement under the colander. Twelve years of Sirius’s life lay behind that small body, along with Harry’s parents and Ron’s hand closing round something he trusted. I could not give Harry a reason to be patient that would make any of those things less important.

‘He runs towards the forest when Lupin changes,’ I said. ‘We can try from the edge, once Ron’s under the roots and nobody’s between us and him. If we miss, we still have to get Sirius out.’

Harry looked at me for a moment, then nodded. I disliked how little I could offer him, but at least it was something we could attempt without walking into a room occupied by ourselves.

‘The stones,’ Hermione whispered. She had found two pieces of gravel in the loose earth beside the fence and turned one over on her palm. I recognised the pale edge that had lain among the broken pottery by my hand.

For a moment the figures inside the window seemed further away. Then Hagrid moved, the afternoon went on without waiting for me, and I took the first stone from her.

‘We need them outside with Hagrid,’ I said. ‘Where the Minister can see he stays with them.’

‘The second one hits the kettle.’ Hermione looked from the stone to the worktop. I remembered the water spreading towards us and Harry moving the board while Ron reached towards it.

‘Aim at the frame,’ I told her. ‘We can make a noise without spilling water on them.’ She nodded, though her eyes stayed on the window.

The empty jar stood clear of the hands near the colander. I had seen it break without cutting anyone, but knowing that did not make it pleasant to choose the opening and lift my bandaged hand. I adjusted the grip, kept the movement short and threw.

The jar burst. Inside, my other self caught Ron’s sleeve and pulled his hand away from the fragments, while Hagrid called out in surprise. Hearing the sound after the movement of my own arm made the distance between the two versions of me feel very small.

Hermione threw at the wooden edge of the window. Her stone caught the inside corner, changed direction and vanished into the room with a ring of metal.

‘I wasn’t aiming at—’ She stopped with her hand still open. Grey fur appeared on the sill, followed by fingers that caught nothing, and Pettigrew dropped into the shadow beneath the wall.

Harry bent forward to follow him, but the corner of the hut and the bare brambles hid him almost at once. I asked whether he could still see the rat; he shook his head just as the back door opened.

‘Down,’ Hermione whispered. We pressed behind the fence before Ron came round beneath the window, calling to the others.

I stayed crouched with my hands against the earth. I had wanted our friends outside, and I had known why the second stone frightened Hermione; trying to send it somewhere else had not made the consequence smaller. On the other side of the wood, Ron found the rat again and called its name.

‘We catch him at the tree,’ Harry said. His eyes stayed on me until I answered.

‘We try, with the plan we agreed.’ I could remember every sound so far and still had no prisoner. Recognising what was happening did not do the work for us.

Hagrid called from the front door, and Dumbledore answered from the path, telling him to keep the children together. I touched Hermione’s sleeve and pointed along the fence. We crossed the narrow open strip while the hut hid us from the door, and Harry held a branch aside until we were beneath the first trees.

Our earlier selves came onto the path above the brambles. Ron pointed towards the rat while Hermione checked Harry’s wet sleeve; I stood beside them, unhurt and impatient for the adults to arrive. The Hermione at my shoulder watched her own back for several seconds.

‘Does my hair always look like that?’ she whispered. She reached towards it before catching herself and putting her hand down.

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‘It’s been remarkably consistent.’ I kept my voice low, but Harry made a sound into his sleeve, which made it considerably harder not to laugh myself.

The branch slipped from his fingers. On the path, my other self turned towards the trees, and all three of us froze. I remembered wanting to come and find whoever had thrown the stones; from this side of the trunk it seemed a less helpful impulse.

Ron said something, and the boy on the path turned back. Harry lowered his sleeve very slowly while Hermione gave him a look that needed no accompanying speech.

Fudge stopped beside Buckbeak, the executioner shifting his axe as Dumbledore listened to Hagrid. I saw my own raised hand on the path and the Headmaster’s answering gesture. A silver streak left his wand towards the castle; then the officials went indoors, and Hagrid took his place below the brambles to watch the patch where Ron had seen the rat.

Buckbeak turned towards the path and gave the short call I remembered. This time I kept watching him, with one hand against the fence as I measured the space along the lower edge of the pumpkins.

‘Harry, watch the door,’ I whispered. ‘Hermione, the path. Tell me if anyone turns this way.’

‘Quietly,’ Harry said. He crouched where he could see round the last pumpkin, and I went out before the small exchange could become a longer one.

My knee objected to the low walk. I kept a hand near the ground until I reached Buckbeak, then straightened carefully enough to bow without a sudden wince. For several seconds his beak remained level with my face before he lowered his head.

‘You remember me,’ I whispered as I came closer. ‘We flew together.’ His head tilted, and I kept my movements small while looking past him towards Hagrid’s coat above the brambles.

The chain was looped over a stout hook secured by a retaining clasp on the post. Hagrid could open it for ordinary care; I did not need a spell, but the weight of the chain held it tight. I lifted the hanging length and stopped when the pull reached my shoulder.

Buckbeak moved one foot, setting a talon beside mine. I let the weight rest against the post for a moment, then moved closer and supported the links on my left forearm. My right fingers could free the clasp once I stopped trying to hold everything with the injured side.

It opened. I lowered the loose end instead of dropping it, though the links still made a small, unwelcome noise against each other. Harry raised a flat hand above the pumpkins, and I froze with the chain pressed to my sleeve.

A chair scraped inside the hut. Somebody spoke, and the shadow across the doorway shifted without the door opening. Harry kept his hand up until the movement stopped, then lowered it slowly.

I breathed and moved back into Buckbeak’s line of sight. He had turned towards the window, so I waited until he looked at me again before stepping towards the pumpkins with the chain held low.

‘This way,’ I whispered. He followed for one step, and I gathered the loose length before it could drag along the earth. Another step brought his feathers against a dry stalk, which sounded loud enough to announce us to the whole room.

Hermione moved a fallen piece of wood out of the gap ahead and withdrew before Buckbeak reached her. I turned sideways between the fence and the largest pumpkins, showing him the clear ground beyond without tightening the chain around his neck. He stopped with his head raised when Ron’s voice came from above the brambles.

I waited with him. There was no useful way to pull a hippogriff through a gap he had decided to inspect, especially with one sound arm. When his attention returned to me, I stepped back again, and this time he came far enough for the first tree to hide us from the hut.

Harry and Hermione followed across the last strip of open ground. I rested against a trunk while Buckbeak lowered his beak towards Harry’s shoes; Harry moved them away with considerably more care than he had used coming down the slope.

‘He can have them,’ he whispered. ‘Once we’re somewhere else.’

I nearly laughed, and the sudden relief left me unsteady against the tree. Hermione touched my good arm and looked at Buckbeak, who was now shifting his feet as though he expected us to choose our next destination.

‘You did it,’ she said. I looked at the chain in my hand and the living creature at its other end.

‘We’ve got him this far.’ I passed her the loose coil long enough to change my grip, then took it back as the hut door opened.

We moved behind the broadest trunk, keeping Buckbeak close enough to touch. Harry looked past the bark and whispered that the executioner had come out. The man stopped beside the empty post, bent behind the pumpkins and put his hand on the open clasp.

From the path I had seen only his shoulders. From here I could see him inspect the hook, then turn towards the fence while I drew the chain closer to my sleeve. Hermione caught the lowest links before they struck the trunk, and Buckbeak stayed beside us.

The executioner raised his axe. Harry’s fingers tightened on the bark as the blade struck a pumpkin with a heavy crack, splitting it and spilling pale flesh across the earth.

‘Gone!’ the man shouted. Birds rose from the fence, and Hagrid stood to look towards the sound.

On the path above him, the other Hermione pressed her face against Ron’s shoulder. Harry moved closer, and I took a step towards the hut before stopping. For a moment I could see my own face clearly enough to want to call across the space and tell that boy what was standing beside my hand.

Then the rat ran onto the path. Ron caught it, cried out and opened his hand when the little body twisted against his fingers. Knowing he would reach a clean hospital bed did not make the sound easier to hear.

‘We need to get round without crossing their path,’ I said. Harry nodded but stayed beside the trunk until our friends began running up the slope.

Fudge came out of the hut with Dumbledore behind him. He looked at the broken pumpkin, then the empty post, and demanded to know where Buckbeak had gone. The executioner pulled his axe free and pointed at the ground.

‘Someone’s let it go,’ he said. Fudge turned towards Hagrid, beginning his name before Dumbledore pointed up the path.

‘The children, Cornelius.’ The Headmaster’s gesture followed Hagrid, who had answered my other self’s shout and was hurrying round the brambles. Above him, Hermione waved both arms before following the boys beyond the rise.

‘He was down there?’ Fudge asked. He looked between the patch Hagrid had been watching and the post where Buckbeak should have stood.

‘Watching the rat with them, as I asked him to do.’ Dumbledore lowered his hand. I could not tell whether he had seen anything behind the pumpkins, but he had seen Hagrid beside the brambles; that much had happened in front of everyone.

The Minister inspected the open clasp again. For several seconds he seemed unable to choose which empty place required an explanation first, and Harry’s mouth began to turn towards a smile. Another shout from beyond the rise stopped it before it settled.

‘Search the fence and the trees,’ Fudge told the executioner. ‘It cannot have gone far.’

‘Keep clear of the Willow,’ Dumbledore said. ‘I have sent for the staff.’ I gathered the chain against my arm and led Buckbeak away before we could hear the rest.