Chapter Eleven

　　There was a silence in which Crookshanks stretched luxuriously flexing his claws. Ron's pocket quivered.

　　Ron and Hermione looked quickly at Harry, as though expecting him to start berating Hagrid for not telling him the truth about Black. But Harry couldn't bring himself to do it, not now that he saw Hagrid so miserable and scared.

Hagrid howled still more loudly. Harry and Hermione looked at Ron to help them.
　　"Er -- shall I make a cup of tea?" said Ron.
　　Harry stared at him.
　　"It's what my mum does whenever someone's upset," Ron muttered, shrugging.

　　To his great surprise, Hermione did not appear either excited or intrigued by the news. On the contrary, her face fell, and she bit her lip.

Christmas spirit was definitely thin on the ground in the Gryffindor common room that morning.

"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him --"　　
"Imagine that," said Professor McGonagall dryly.

"What did you go running to McGonagall for?　　
Hermione threw her book aside. She was still pink in the face, but stood up and faced Ron defiantly.　　
"Because I thought -- and Professor McGonagall agrees with me -- that that broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!"