Right Now Could Last Forever

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I went up to the Owlery after breakfast on Sunday to send a letter to Percy, asking, as Sirius had suggested, whether he had seen Mr Crouch lately. We used Hedwig, because it had been so long since she’d had a job. When we had watched her out of sight through the Owlery window, we proceeded down to the kitchen to give Dobby his new socks.

The house-elves gave them a very cheery welcome, bowing and curtseying and bustling around making tea again. Dobby was ecstatic about his present.

Harry Potter is too good to Dobby!” he squeaked, wiping large tears out of his enormous eyes.
“You saved my life with that Gillyweed, Dobby, you really did,” said Harry.

“No chance of more of those éclairs, is there?” said Ron, who was looking around at the beaming and bowing house-elves.

“You’ve just had breakfast!” said Hermione irritably, but a great silver platter of éclairs was already zooming towards us, supported by four elves.

“We should get some stuff to send up to Snuffles,” Harry muttered.

“Good idea,” I said.

“Give Pig something to do. You couldn’t give us a bit of extra food, could you?” Ron said to the surrounding elves, and they bowed delightedly and hurried off to get some.

“Dobby, where’s Winky?” said Hermione, who was looking around.

“Winky is over there by the fire, miss,” said Dobby quietly, his ears drooping slightly.

“Oh dear,” said Hermione, as she spotted Winky.

I looked over at the fireplace, too. Winky was sitting on the same stool as last time, but she had allowed herself to become so filthy that she was not immediately distinguishable from the smoke-blackened brick behind her. Her clothes were ragged and unwashed. She was clutching a bottle of Butterbeer and swaying slightly on her stool, staring into the fire. As we watch her, she gave an enormous hiccough.

“Winky is getting through six bottles a day now,” Dobby whispered to us.

‘Well, it’s not strong, that stuff,” I said.

But Dobby shook his head. “’Tis strong for a house-elf, miss,” he said.

-

“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you, Hermione?” said Ron angrily, as the kitchen door slammed shut behind us. “They won’t want us visiting them now! We could’ve tried to get more stuff out of Winky about Crouch!”

“Oh, as if you care about that!” scoffed Hermione. “You only like coming down here for the food.”

“Talking about food; it’s going to take a lot of convincing on Fred and George’s part to allow them to let me into the kitchen again for parties,” I sighed heavily, though I was looking forward to the challenge.

-

By breakfast next day, Ron and Hermione’s bad moods had burnt out, and to my relief, Ron’s dark predictions that the house-elves would send sub-standard food up to the Gryffindor table because Hermione had insulted them proved false; the bacon, eggs and kippers were quite as good as usual.

I sat with the twins and Lee, which I hadn’t done for a while, and it was nice to have the constant flow of laughter lacing through the conversation. The light teasing was also a welcomed break from Hermione and Ron’s bickering.

“Okay, okay; I have a good one,” Lee said, swallowing a piece of bacon. “You know, the Sorting Hat placed me in Gryffindor. I think it’s because, like Godric himself, I too, have an impressive sword.”

I chocked on my pumpkin juice, and I swore that some nearly came out of my nose. We all laughed, and Fred patted me on the back.

“You alright there, Samuels?” George said with a lopsided Weasley twin grin.

I nodded, trying to regain my composure.

“You look like you’d be a good Quidditch player. Want to ride my broomstick?” Fred said with a grin identical to George’s.

“You’re all children!” I said. “Alright, I want in. What about this; did you cast Aguamenti? Because you make me –“

I was interrupted by a yelp of pain a bit further down the table. I turned and saw Hermione, her arms and hands erupting in large yellow boils.

“Undiluted Bubotuber pus!” said Ron, picking up an envelope gingerly and sniffing it.

“Ow!” said Hermione, tears starting in her eyes as she tried to rub it off her hands with a napkin, but her fingers were now so thickly covered in painful sores that it looked as though she was wearing a pair of thick, knobbly gloves.

“You’d better get up to the hospital wing,” I called, as a couple owls around Hermione took flight.

“We’ll tell Professor Sprout where you’ve gone...” Harry agreed.

I turned back to the three boys, who had gone back to watching me with huge eyes.

“What?” I asked, picking up my fork and stabbing a piece of bacon through.

“What did you just say?” Lee said, dumb-founded.

“That Hermione should go to the hospital-“

“No, no, before that,” George said, though he was starting to smile.

“Oh,” I laughed, “that. Well, boys, I’d love to tell you, but I have to go to Herbology.” I stood up and winked at them.

Hermione didn’t turn up for Herbology.

“Potter, have you split up with your girlfriend? Why was she so upset at breakfast?” Pansy said, when Harry, Ron and I were heading to Care of Magical Creatures.

Harry ignored her easily, but I had to work hard to store all my anger away somewhere in the back of my mind, where I knew it would escape from one day.

In Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid had more crates, inside of which could be found a number of fluffy black creatures with long snouts. Their front paws were curiously flat, like spades, and they were blinking up at the class, looking politely puzzled at all the attention.

“These’re Nifflers,” said Hagrid, when the class had gathered around. “Yeh find ‘em down mines mostly. They like sparkly stuff... there yeh go, look.”

One of the Nifflers had suddenly leapt up and attempted to bite Pansy’s watch off her wrist. She shrieked and jumped backwards. Luckily for me, I had my jersey on and the sleeves were pulled down over the charm bracelet on my left wrist. I quickly slipped it into the pocket of my robes.
“Useful little treasure detectors,” said Hagrid happily. “Thought we’d have some fun with ‘em today. See over there?” He pointed at a large patch of freshly turned earth. “I’ve buried some gold coins. I’ve got a prize fer whoever picks the Niffler that digs up most. Jus’ take off all yer valuables, an’ choose a Niffler an’ get ready ter set ‘em loose.”

I picked up a Niffler, which nearly pocked my eye out with its long snout, but really, it was quite cuddly.

“Hang on,” said Hagrid, looking down into the crate, “there’s a spare Niffler here... who’s missin’? Where’s Hermione?”

“She had to go to the hospital wing,” I said.

“We’ll explain later,” Harry muttered.

The Nifflers dived in and out of the patch of earth as though it was water, each scurrying back to the student who had released it and spitting gold into our hands. Ron’s was particularly efficient; it had soon filled his lap with coins.

“Can you buy these as pets, Hagrid?” he asked excitedly, as his Niffler dived back intot he soil, splattering his robes.

“Yer mum wouldn’ be happy, Ron,” said Hagrid, grinning, “they wreck houses, Nifflers. I reckon they’ve nearly got the lot now,” he added, pacing around the patch of earth, while the Nufflers continued to dive. “I on’y buried a hundred coins. Oh, there y’are, Hermione!”

Hermione was walking towards us across the lawn. Her hands were very heavily bandaged and she looked miserable. Pansy was watching her beadily.

“Well, let’s check how yeh’ve done!” said Hagrid. “Count yer coins! An’ there’s no point trying ter steal any, Goyle,” he added, his beetle-black eyes narrowed. “It’s leprechaun gold. Vanishes after a few hours.”

Ron ended up having the most successful Niffler, and Hagrid gave him an enormous slab of Huneydukes chocolate for a prize. The bell rang across the grounds for lunch. I reached into my pocket to grab my bracelet, but it wasn’t there.

My heart dropped. It had to be there, it just had to be. I looked around on the ground frantically, but it was nowhere in sight; someone must’ve taken it when I was getting my Niffler and being pushed around. My gaze shot up to the retreating group of Gryffindors (of which I knew none who would steal) and Slytherins.

I sprinted towards the group of Slytherins, dumping my bag at Harry’s feet and pulling my wand furiously out of my pocket. I knew who it was, and I didn’t even have to see the sparkle of my precious metal before tackling the white-blonde to the ground.

“You foul, horrible, evil little git,” I spat, forcing my wand painfully under Draco’s jaw bone. “You thieving son of a bitch.”

“Get off of me,” Draco hissed, obviously not enjoying the fact that he was pinned under a girl without his consent.

“Why? So you can steal something else of mine?” Venom was already lacing my words.

Malfoy forcefully shoved me off of him, and managed to punch me straight across the jaw. It stung a little, but I shook it off, ignoring the rusty taste in my mouth and launched myself at him again. My wand was nowhere to be found, so I used my fist instead; colliding flush with Malfoy’s nose, which gave off a load crack. Blood sprayed everywhere, staining the pale white of his skin, as well as my hand. He let out a girly squeal, which caused a sick pleasure in me.

I felt someone grab my arms and pull them behind me. I tugged and pulled at their grasp, but failed miserably. I let out an angry scream when I was unable to claw my way to Malfoy. The Slytherin clambered to his feet, cupping his nose.

“Here, just have your stupid bracelet,” he said, tossing it at my feet and walking away with his house-mates, mumbling curse words under his breath.

I let the air out of my lungs in a hiss, going limp in the arms that were restraining me. My capturer (so to speak) seemed to sense that I wasn’t going to attack anyone else, and let me go. I dropped to my knees, my eyes closed. My fist covered in Malfoy’s blood punched the ground, while my left hand held my bracelet securely.

I looked around for my wand, and my heart sank completely when I found it laying a couple of meters away, in multiple pieces.