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"What's wrong with Harry?" Hermione asked curiously as she and the others passed by him.
"He's probably asleep," Ron whispered, gently placing his book on the long table and turning to Hermione. "Keep it down, don't wake him."
With that, Ron sat beside Hermione and continued, "He barely slept last night. When I got up this morning, he was still scribbling on that map of his, Merlin knows what he was up to."
"Really?" Hermione said, lifting Jack off her shoulder and setting him on the table. She pulled a thick book from her bag and placed it in front of her.
Ron's eyes widened at the sight of the massive tome. "Merlin's stinky socks…" he muttered under his breath.
Hermione shot him a warning glance.
Chastened, Ron remembered his best mate was catching up on sleep. He shrugged, stood up, and was about to ask Ginny what they'd have for dinner when the twins swooped in.
"Ronnie, darling?" Fred whispered in Ron's ear, casting a mischievous glance at Hermione, who was engrossed in her book. "Valentine's Day is the day after tomorrow. Tell me, have you got anything planned for your little girlfriend?"
"Girlfriend?" Ron froze. "What girlfriend? What are you on about?"
George clapped Ron on the back. "Don't play dumb. Mum's already heard—says you're completely whipped by Miss Granger…"
Ron's face turned beet red. "Whipped? What are you talking about? I don't—" he stammered.
What followed was a jumble of incoherent protests—something about how helping with studies wasn't being whipped, just caring about his grades. The air buzzed with cheerful chaos.
Jack seemed to be enjoying himself, too. The parrot strutted along the table, his tiny claws making soft pat-pat sounds. He bobbed his head, crest swaying, and chirped leisurely, "Aya, aya, aya~"
"Hm?" Jack's eyes caught the notebook next to Harry.
To a parrot, it was just a mysterious object, but Jack's curiosity was boundless. He stretched out his beak, intent on investigating.
Hermione, deep in her book, was startled by a loud "Wheek!"
She wasn't the only one who noticed. Even Ron, mid-argument with the twins about how Hermione wasn't his girlfriend, turned toward the sound.
They all looked to see Jack, who had torn Harry's notebook to shreds.
Realizing his mistake, Jack squawked, "Aah, aah!" and scurried back to Hermione, his waddling gait producing a springy, trembling sound. He ducked his head and burrowed into her sleeve.
"Good heavens, Jack!" Hermione exclaimed, incredulously pulling his head out. "Look at what you've done!"
The notebook's cover was completely detached, separated from the pages like a sunflower seed stripped of its shell, lying helplessly in two pieces.
Harry was still fast asleep, oblivious to the fact that Cassandra's notebook had been ruined.
"Blimey…" Ron glanced at Jack, then at Hermione. "Jack's really done it now… What do we do? Should we wake Harry?"
The twins, grinning, flanked Hermione and Ron.
"I say, you two," Fred began, and George chimed in, "have you forgotten magic exists?"
"Why not try the old Reparo charm?" they said in unison.
Hermione's face lit up. She drew her wand and pointed it at the notebook.
"Reparo!"
A spark flashed from her wand, but the notebook remained unchanged.
"Now what?" she said, her face falling, utterly at a loss.
"Better wake the notebook's owner," the twins said in sync.
"Harry? Harry?" Hermione reached out, gently shaking him.
Harry stirred, blinking sleepily, still unaware of the situation. "What's up?" he asked.
Hermione hesitated, embarrassed. She pointed to the ruined notebook. "Um, Jack made a mess… He tore up your notebook…"
Harry followed her gesture and saw the notebook, its cover ripped off. For a moment, his mind went blank.
"Maybe a repair charm will do the trick," he said, pulling out his wand and aiming it at the notebook.
But the spell flashed, and nothing happened.
"I'm so sorry, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have let Jack out…"
Her voice cracked, and she began to sob softly. She didn't know what the notebook was, but it clearly meant a lot to Harry—he was never without it. The thought alone made her feel suffocated. If it were her, she'd be furious.
"I'm to blame too, Harry," Ron added, standing by Hermione's side. "If I'd kept an eye on Jack…"
Harry looked at Ron and Hermione with a gentle smile. "Come on, it's not your fault. It's just a notebook. Besides, the contents are still intact, aren't they?"
"No, Harry, I can't forgive myself…" Hermione whispered.
Her guilt was genuine. If the notebook could've been fixed with a spell, it'd be fine, but for some reason, the charm didn't work. She didn't entirely blame Jack—the notebook's destruction was partly due to her own carelessness.
"Alright, sit down and get back to your book," Harry said, smiling warmly.
But was it just a notebook?
A pang of sadness hit him.
In his mind, he heard Mr. Septimus's voice: "You couldn't even protect her, boy! You can't even protect her keepsake!"
Harry sat there, dazed, picking up the notebook's cover in one hand and the pages in the other.
Ron and Hermione, though seated, still watched him with concern. Jack peeked out from Hermione's sleeve, only to get a gentle flick on the beak from her.
Then, Harry's sharp eyes spotted something—a slip of paper tucked inside the notebook's cover. It would've gone unnoticed if the cover hadn't been torn.
A note?
He quickly grabbed it and unfolded it.
It was Cassandra's Gringotts vault receipt!
His heart raced. He looked up at Jack, nestled in Hermione's arms.
Far from causing trouble, Jack had accidentally helped him uncover something vital! Perhaps Cassandra's vault held crucial clues.
Who said Jack messed up? He'd done a brilliant job!
No wonder the cover couldn't be repaired—Cassandra must've designed it that way. The cover and the pages were never meant to be one, making Reparo useless.
"Hermione, give me Jack," Harry said, beaming.
Hermione shook her head frantically. "No, Harry, it's my fault. Jack… Jack, he…"
"No, I need to thank him for helping me out big time!" Harry laughed. "If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have found something this important!"
Hermione eyed him skeptically but, seeing his genuine joy, reluctantly handed Jack over.
Harry gleefully lifted Jack, like Rafiki hoisting Simba. He brought Jack to his face, gave him a quick peck, and instinctively, as he would with Hedwig, buried his face in Jack's chest for a big sniff.
Except… Hedwig was an owl. No problem there. But Jack?
Harry hastily shoved Jack into Ron's arms, coughing violently. Bloody feather dust! It was all over his throat.
Hermione burst into laughter, tears still in her eyes. She'd thought Harry was just comforting her, but now she saw he meant it.
Still, she pinched Jack's beak tightly, vowing to keep him on a shorter leash to prevent future disasters.
Draco had been hovering nearby since the notebook's cover was torn. He glared at Jack, displeased, but said nothing. After all, Harry hadn't complained, and Draco had no grounds to—though the notebook belonged to his great-great-grandmother, he figured Harry was closer to her.
But when Harry found the vault receipt, Draco's expression flipped dramatically. He decided then and there to write to his father, asking for some parrot-enhancing potions.
Since tomorrow was the weekend and there were no afternoon classes, Harry planned to visit Gringotts. Dumbledore had long granted him permission to leave Hogwarts freely, but without a phoenix, he couldn't Apparate within the castle. He'd have to walk to the grounds' edge.
"Harry."
Draco, slightly out of breath, caught up with him. He'd been trailing Harry since they left the Great Hall. It was his great-great-grandmother's possession, after all, and he saw a chance to bond with Harry—and maybe strengthen ties regarding her.
"So, it's really my great-great-grandmother's vault receipt?" he asked eagerly. "Her Gringotts vault?"
"Yeah," Harry said openly.
"Cool," Draco said with a grin. "I always thought there'd be something of hers in the family vault, but Father searched it several times over the holidays and found nothing. Turns out she had a separate vault."
"Speaking of, Valentine's Day is coming up, Harry," Draco added, fishing for conversation. "You know, I've gotten a few gifts already—Pansy's, plus some from Slytherin upperclassmen. Not sure who to send mine to, though, since I don't fancy anyone. I bet you've got some, right? Miss Grindelwald probably sent you something from the Muggle world?"
Harry: (_)?!
Thanks for the reminder, mate.
Draco's comment made him realize Valentine's Day was indeed near. Today was February 12th; Sunday would be the 14th, the classic day for lovers.
People would send gifts to their crushes, subtly—or not so subtly—hinting at their feelings.
Draco noticed the flicker in Harry's expression and grinned. No gift from Miss Grindelwald?
Perfect!
Though he didn't know why she hadn't sent anything, this was a golden opportunity to play matchmaker for his great-great-grandmother.
Draco's mind kicked into overdrive, plotting the ultimate assist.
"I bet this is my great-great-grandmother's Valentine's gift to you, Harry."
He put on a wistful look. "Think about it. Why now, of all times? Right before Valentine's Day… Merlin's guiding hand, perhaps."
Harry paused. You don't say…
"No way," he said, waving it off. "It's just a coincidence. No one, not even Cassandra, could've predicted Jack tearing up the notebook."
"You're still denying it?" Draco said, exasperated. "Merlin's beard, Potter! You disappoint me! Use that scar-covered head of yours and think. What could drive a girl to abandon her loving father and brother, risk her life, and travel a century into the future to find you?"
It was the first time since learning Harry's true identity that Draco called him "Potter."
For his great-great-grandmother, Draco was going all in.
Malfoys put family first, after all. Even a great-great-grandmother he'd never met deserved his loyalty.
Harry opened his mouth but found no retort.
"Think about it! You're not the same Muggle-born orphan wizard from a century ago who had nothing!" Draco pressed, his voice rising. "You're a legendary wizard now! The savior who defeated the greatest dark wizard of the century! What are you doubting yourself for, Potter?"
With that, Draco stormed off, fuming.
Far away, in a Muggle school classroom, Veratia sneezed twice.
Odd, she thought, rubbing her nose. Wizards don't catch colds.
Little did she know, even trapped somewhere, possibly fighting for her life, Cassandra had managed a classic comeback.
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