Cat and Mouse, Ravenclaw’s Seeker

After the New Year came the new term, and students returned to Hogwarts one after another.

News that Harry had received a Firebolt spread quickly. Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor House Team, danced with excitement, and the other players were given a much-needed boost as well.

The Firebolt was a world-class Flying Broomstick. Even all of the Slytherin House Team’s Nimbus 2001s combined could not compare to it.

Harry was already an outstanding Seeker. With a broom like this, losing would be utterly inexcusable.

Professor Lupin would also teach Harry the Patronus Charm to fend off Dementors, which put them completely at ease. Wood struck while the iron was hot and increased their training sessions to five times a week.

The training schedule was intense, but none of them complained. On the contrary, they cooperated enthusiastically.

Gryffindor had not won the Quidditch Cup for seven consecutive years, and Wood would be graduating this year. His only wish was likely to lead the Gryffindor House Team to victory before he left.

Library.

Aaron was working out the blueprints for the secret base when Hermione set a stack of books down on the library table. She looked far more frazzled than usual.

"Tut, tut, tut!" Aaron widened his eyes slightly. "Arithmancy charts, a runic dictionary, illustrated guides to Muggle heavy lifting… Your determination truly amazes me. A whole term has passed, and you still haven’t given up."

"Don’t mention it. I feel like I’m under enormous pressure right now. But I really can’t bear to give up any of these classes. How come you aren’t tired?"

"Maybe because I gave up Arithmancy!"

"Liar. I mean you’re taking several classes at once too, but you aren’t as… rushed off your feet as I am." Hermione looked at him in confusion.

For her electives, she was racing against time, dragging her exhausted body from class to class, taking notes, then facing assignments that could pile up several feet high. Yet Aaron seemed especially relaxed. Not only did he show no sign of fatigue, he even had time to take his dragon out for walks.

"That’s the difference between one top student and another." Aaron solemnly tapped his head. "I can remember far more than you think."

"What about the homework? How do you finish so much homework?"

Of course, I leave it to the Thoughtform. Isn’t that what clones are for?

"By writing it with my hands, naturally. I did consider writing with my feet, but it was a little too difficult."

Hermione rolled her eyes speechlessly. "You’re so funny."

"Uh… I’ll take that as a compliment."

"Yes, it was a compliment." Somewhat impatiently, Hermione pushed a pile of notes in front of him. "Help me check them and see if there’s anything I need to add."

Aaron’s mouth twitched, and he gave an awkward smile. "Aren’t you embarrassed to ask me to do this?"

"As a friend, aren’t you embarrassed not to help me?" Hermione shot back. "If even you won’t help me, no one can."

Aaron was left speechless, feeling inexplicably stifled.

"Fine! But I can’t be the only one doing this! Where are Harry and Ron? Shouldn’t you ask them to share the burden first?"

"Harry is busy practicing the Patronus Charm."

"How’s he doing?" Aaron asked curiously.

"Barely managing." Hermione shook her head slightly. "The Patronus Charm is highly advanced magic. Ordinary wizards may never learn it in their entire lives. Harry spent a month on it and can only summon a vague Patronus. At least he won’t faint so easily when facing Dementors."

"That’s not enough." Aaron frowned. "There are at least a hundred Dementors outside Hogwarts."

"Yes." Hermione sighed. "But it’s already remarkable for a third-year wizard to get this far. At least there shouldn’t be any accidents on the Quidditch pitch."

"Fine, Harry gets a pass. What about Ron? Asking him to help write your homework might be asking too much, but he can at least check it, can’t he?"

"Don’t mention him." Hermione said indignantly. "His rat, Scabbers, has gone missing."

"Good riddance," Aaron said without thinking. But when he noticed Hermione’s slightly reddened eyes, he decisively placed Abei on the table. "Uh… Abei wanted to kill Scabbers the first time it saw him."

Abei nodded firmly. It really had not liked that rat.

Seeing this, Hermione felt a little better and continued, "He suspects Crookshanks ate his rat. It’s simply unreasonable."

"Crookshanks is a cat, after all." Aaron said with a dry laugh. "Cats catching mice is perfectly normal."

"You think it was Crookshanks too?" There was now a trace of hostility in Hermione’s eyes, along with the hurt of being mistrusted.

Gulp!

Aaron swallowed and immediately changed his tune. "I’ve always hated people who casually accuse suspects without evidence. Crookshanks may have had considerable hostility toward Scabbers, but no one saw anything. So it might not have been him."

"Actually, several orange cat hairs were found on the floor of Ron’s dormitory," Hermione said weakly.

Aaron: …

How is that any different from lying through your teeth?

"Well… perhaps you don’t want to hear this, but if you have time, you should prepare a new food supply for Crookshanks—no, buy Ron a new rat."

Hermione pressed her lips together with difficulty and lowered her head, hurt, as she sorted through her homework.

"Fine, I guess I’m unlucky." Aaron slapped his forehead and took out Captain Jack’s Compass.

"What is that?"

"A magical compass. It points toward what you desire most," Aaron said seriously. Then he stared at the compass needle. The needle, which had been completely still, began to turn slowly and showed no sign of stopping.

"What does that mean?"

"It’s good news." Aaron smiled. "Scabbers is still alive. The compass is pointing toward his location. Want to go find him?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then shook her head coldly. "No. Unless something unexpected happens, Scabbers will run back on his own. I’ll wait for Ron to apologize to me and Crookshanks."

Aaron blinked, wanting to laugh but unable to.

"Wait." Hermione suddenly thought of something. "This compass should be able to find Sirius Black too. If we can catch him…"

Without another word, Aaron snapped the compass shut and stuffed it into Abei’s pocket.

"Aaron, am I wrong?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"You’re absolutely right, but I don’t want to go looking for trouble."

"Trouble? How could this be trouble?"

"Of course it’s trouble." Aaron let out a deep sigh. "Sirius isn’t important, but Voldemort is behind him. Although he hasn’t fully returned yet, there’s no denying that he has a large number of loyal followers. I’ve thoroughly offended Voldemort, but he poses no threat to me right now. His followers, however, may be another matter."

"You mean…?"

"If they find out I sent Voldemort’s loyal servant to Azkaban, they might come after me for revenge. There’s no shortage of desperadoes among them."

"Then what if we give the compass to Dumbledore…?"

"Impossible. Absolutely impossible." Aaron refused without a second thought.

Catching Sirius Black would mean taking a small risk, but with his current strength, that risk could be ignored.

But handing the compass to Dumbledore would be a very different kind of risk. He had never truly trusted the character of the wizard who had sat firmly upon the White Lord’s throne for decades.

"Let’s hope the Dementors do their job. Otherwise, Harry may have to stay in the castle for a long time."

"But at least he’ll be safe."

Saturday, eleven o’clock.

Quidditch pitch, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw.

Harry Potter made a flashy entrance on the Firebolt. To guard against Dementors, he had hidden his Wand inside his sleeve so he could use the Patronus Charm at any time.

There was no helping it. The Dementors had left too deep a shadow on him. Even with Dumbledore present, he still felt uneasy.

The Firebolt was incredibly fast, giving him an absolute speed advantage in the match.

Commentator Jordan occasionally inserted a few lines about the Firebolt’s background—its speed, performance, and balance were all unmatched. If they did not know what he was like, they might have suspected Jordan had been paid to advertise for the Firebolt.

"Did Ravenclaw replace their Seeker?" Aaron asked curiously, looking at the only girl on the Ravenclaw House Team.

"Her name is Cho Chang. Wood said she’s an excellent Seeker," Ron said. "But her broom is terrible. It’s only from the Comet Series, so it can’t compare with the Firebolt at all."

"True. The Firebolt is much faster than my magic carpet." Aaron said casually. "But that’s not what I meant. Don’t you think Cho Chang is very pretty?"

"Um… perhaps," Hermione said, blushing slightly, her voice trembling faintly.

"Hmph!" Ron snorted. "At least she’s much prettier than someone."

"Ron, quit being so sarcastic."

"Did I say anything wrong?"

"You two," Aaron interrupted, "don’t misunderstand. I meant Harry Potter thinks she’s pretty. Haven’t you noticed? Harry has been overtaken by Cho Chang several times in a row. His Firebolt is much faster than her Comet, yet he’s been blocked time and again while chasing the Golden Snitch."

Hearing this, the two hurriedly turned their attention to the Quidditch pitch and found that it was indeed true.

Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were locked in a fierce exchange. Gryffindor held a certain advantage, but the Firebolt, which they regarded as their trump card, was repeatedly overtaken by the Comet broom and was even forced to change direction.

"Could the Firebolt really have been cursed?" Hermione asked uneasily.

"Harry has test-flown it many times. There’s nothing wrong with it," Ron said, though his expression became somewhat unnatural. "How despicable. Ravenclaw knew they couldn’t match the Firebolt’s speed, so they sent out a pretty Seeker. We have to warn Harry and Wood, or Gryffindor might lose."

"Idiot." Aaron rolled his eyes. He had only meant that Harry might be interested in the girl. How had Ron turned it into a honey trap?

"So self-important." Hermione also looked at him with some disdain. "Harry wouldn’t be so unable to tell what matters!"

Ron had just been about to say something when Madam Hooch’s whistle sounded, followed by Jordan’s announcement: Harry Potter had caught the Golden Snitch. Gryffindor had won.