Chapter 732: My Clever Idea
Chapter 732: My Clever Idea
"This is absolutely ridiculous!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes fixed on the copy of the Prophet that Hermione had just brought, his fingers trembling as he held the newspaper.
The front-page headline screamed: 'Dementors Storm Hogwarts School, Harry Potter Critically Injured and Presumed Dead?' Upon waking up that morning, Harry had discovered that he was supposedly dead.
That in itself would have been troubling enough.
But to make matters worse, he had also received a stack of letters—some inquiring if he was truly dead, others expressing concern for his injuries, wishing him a speedy recovery, and even suggesting that he refrain from playing Quidditch in the future.
Harry couldn't shake the feeling that people were sending him letters just to confirm that he was still alive, as owls couldn't deliver mail to the deceased.
Among the letters was one from Mrs. Weasley, who had obviously seen the newspaper and was worried about his condition.
"Mom thought you were seriously injured after falling off your broom," Ron said helplessly. "I've already had Ginny write home to reassure them."
Harry glanced at the card under the bowl and dishes. Just moments ago, Ginny Weasley had given him a handmade get-well card, her face flushed with embarrassment.
If he didn't close and hold down the card, it would burst into song.
"There's something odd about all this," Hermione began.
"What do you mean?" Harry and Ron turned to her, curious to hear what she had discovered.
"Don't you think it's strange that the photo in the Prophet was clearly taken here at school?" Hermione pointed to the photo of Harry being carried away. It was this photo that had led many to believe that Harry Potter had indeed fallen off his broom and died. The Great Hall had erupted into chaos earlier that morning, and it was only after Professor McGonagall announced that Harry was fine that things had calmed down.
"You think there was a Prophet reporter here at the time?"
"What do you mean?"
"Ever since Sirius Black's escape, Hogwarts hasn't allowed outsiders to watch the Quidditch games," Hermione pointed out the suspicious nature of the situation. "It's highly unlikely that they would have been here, much less had the opportunity to take that photo."
"Maybe it was taken by one of the students here," Ron suggested. "Remember, Colin Creevey is always running around with his camera. It could have been him..."
"That's doubtful," Hermione interrupted, shaking her head. "I think it's more likely that a student sold the photo along with the story to the Prophet."
"You can make money doing that?" Ron's eyes widened in surprise at this new piece of information.
"Yes," Hermione replied. "Selling information to journalists or newspapers is not uncommon in the Muggle world." While she wasn't exactly an expert on such matters, she knew it happened.
"I never thought of that," Ron mumbled softly.
"What was that?" Hermione asked, confused.
"Nothing," Ron replied quickly.
Just then, the corridor outside the hospital wing echoed with footsteps, and Hermione, who had been about to say something more, closed her mouth.
"Hey, Harry! We came to see you!" Fred exclaimed as he placed a candy-filled toilet basket on the table next to Harry's bed.
"Quite a unique design," Harry remarked with a smile.
The Gryffindor team had come to visit Harry, including a rather lifeless-looking Wood, whose voice sounded hollow as he spoke.
"Don't blame yourself, Harry. It wasn't your fault," Wood said to Harry, and none of the teammates held Harry responsible for what had happened.
Indeed, Wood didn't blame Harry. The sudden appearance of the Dementors had been an uncontrollable factor, and Harry had almost died from the fall.
After seeing the fragments of the Nimbus 2000 on the table, Wood fell silent for a moment. He suggested that Harry consider what new broom he wanted to buy and offered to lend him a book titled A Guide to Brooms and Their Care.
"Don't worry about the broom, Harry," George said just before they left. "Once you're feeling better, you can borrow Albert's broom for practice. He's agreed to lend it to you temporarily." He patted Harry's shoulder reassuringly.
After the players had left, Harry turned to Hermione and asked, "What were you about to say before they arrived?"
"I've been doing some research," Hermione said softly, recalling the events of the previous day. "The Patronus Charm is the only known defense against Dementors."
"That spell is too difficult..."
"Harry, you've practiced the Patronus Charm before, but no matter how hard you try, you can only produce a silvery gas, with no signs of improvement. It's understandable if you want to give up for now. After all, third-year classes are demanding, and there's a lot to do each week besides Quidditch practice."
Fred and George had also been practicing for quite some time, but they, too, were unable to conjure a true Patronus.
Ron, as it turned out, had also attempted the Patronus Charm, but the silvery gas emitted from his wand was even more feeble than Harry's. He had given up any hope of mastering the charm quickly.
"Harry, you need to have more confidence in yourself. Confidence is a crucial aspect of successful spellcasting," Hermione encouraged. "If you truly want to master the Patronus Charm, you'll need to find someone who can summon a real Patronus to help you."
"Why don't you ask Professor Lupin for help, Harry? He's the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, so he should be able to help you get a handle on the Patronus Charm faster," Ron suggested.
"I think you should talk to Albert about it. That guy seems to know a lot of things," Hermione recommended.
"Are you starting to idolize Albert now?" Ron raised an eyebrow.
"It's not idolization. I just think he makes a lot of sense," Hermione said. "He knows a lot, and he's smart. Before the Dementors appeared, Albert predicted their arrival, and after you fell, he told me you had just fainted and would be fine."
"I always feel like we're learning a different kind of Divination from him," Ron muttered. He had always admired Albert's divination abilities.
"That's because you don't have the aptitude for Divination," Hermione said. Ever since learning that divination required aptitude, she had been considering dropping the class altogether.
She probably didn't have the aptitude for it.
In fact, most students didn't.
"Neither do you," Ron pointed out.
"So, I'm thinking of dropping that class," Hermione admitted.
"You want to drop Divination?" Ron's voice held a hint of surprise, and it felt strange to hear such words coming from Hermione.
"Well, aside from divination knowledge, we're not really learning anything useful in that class," she explained.
This was indeed Hermione's main reason for considering dropping Divination—it was a waste of time, and she wasn't learning anything practical. She would rather spend her limited time on other subjects.
If it weren't for Hermione's desire to get Outstanding in all her O.W.L.s, she might have dropped Divination already.
Ron fell silent. He and Harry took Divination purely because it was an easy class to breeze through.
"Why did they come to the stadium?" Harry asked, his gaze fixed on the broomstick fragments as he voiced his painful question.
"Huh?" Ron was momentarily lost in thought.
"They were hungry," Hermione recalled Albert's earlier words. "A bustling Quidditch stadium is like a feast for Dementors, so they came."
"Do you think the photo in the newspaper could have been taken by Albert?"
"Impossible. I was right next to Albert when you fell, Harry," Hermione dismissed the possibility.
Just then, another visitor arrived to see Harry. It was Hagrid, and he was holding a bunch of spider lilies.
"Harry, are you alright?"
"I'll be discharged tomorrow," Harry managed a faint smile for Hagrid.
"That's good to hear. There's been quite a fuss in the papers, and everyone thought you were badly hurt," Hagrid said, taking the flower vase that Hermione handed him and placing the spider lilies inside before setting them on the table next to Harry's bed.
"It's just a rumor."
"Don't worry about it, Harry. Losing a Quidditch match isn't the end of the world. I'm just glad you're alright," Hagrid said, patting Harry's shoulder. "Come by my place for tea sometime. And remember, it's not that you're weak and fragile; Dementors have a particularly strong effect on people with terrible memories, and they're drawn to feed on the happy emotions of such individuals."
"Hagrid, have you studied Dementors?" Harry asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
"Well, I know a bit, but I wouldn't say I understand them thoroughly," Hagrid replied, a little embarrassed. He certainly couldn't tell Harry that most of what he knew had actually come from Albert! "If you want to know more about Dementors, I suggest you talk to Professor Lupin. He's the expert on that subject," Hagrid said, quite pleased with his quick thinking.
(End of Chapter)
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