Chapter 72

"Or she's patrolling the corridors," Hermione said, despair growing. "Or visiting another teacher's office. Or overseeing detention. Or she's out of the castle. She could even be—"

Hermione gasped.

"What?" Ron asked, alarmed.

"You don't think she—could it be? She wouldn't, would she?"

"One day," Ron said, "you're going to give me a straight answer. And on that day, I'm going to buy a lottery ticket and win a thousand Galleons."

"She might be—"

"And then I'll be selected for Head Boy."

"Ron, listen, she—"

"And named Minister for Magic."

"Ron—"

"Then Snape will apologize for being a git and stick his head in a cauldron. Oh, and he'll pull Malfoy in after him. To round it off, the Chudley Cannons will ask me over for tea to give them a few pointers on Quaffle handling. And then I'll go to bed early in my solid gold, king-sized bed stuffed with unicorn's hair in my floating palace." Abruptly, Ron realized Hermione had stopped interrupting him.

"Are you quite done?" Hermione asked testily.

"I was going to mention the butterbeer fountains, marble statues, and how it can travel to Jupiter, but that seems somehow unnecessary now."

"I was going to say, before you so rudely cut me off, that she might already be at the Ministry!"

Ron stared at her blankly.

"Why would she be at the Ministry?" he asked.

"Because," Hermione explained wearily, "when a student is to be expelled, the DMLE and the Improper Use of Magic Office in particular have to be informed."

Ron continued to stare at her without comprehension.

"So that they can destroy the student's wand," Hermione said, fighting down the urge to add 'Duh.'

"Blimey," Ron said. "Who do you think is getting the axe?"

Hermione stared at him with genuine surprise on her face.

"Milo, of course! Honestly, is there anything between those ears of yours?"

Ron paled.

"We have to find McGonagall before that happens!" he said.

"Yes, Ron," Hermione said, her voice commendably, under the circumstances, both level and patient. "That's why we're here. Knocking on her office door." Hermione paused for a moment, willing herself not to say it, but even her doughty willpower could break under sufficient strain. "Duh."

o—o—o—o

Neville, who for one reason or another had been living in the hospital wing for the past two months (when he was lucky, that is—the rest of the time, he was at St. Mungo's) had a few special concessions from Madam Pomfrey that most short-term patients didn't get. They were little things, like a reading lamp (Neville always had trouble with Lumos), a few extra pillows, the blanket that smelled the least of cats, a bedside table with a pair of drawers for keeping his clothes in, and the cot next to the window.

It was due to this last fact that, on Friday evening, he saw a tall, thin figure striding confidently up to the Hogwarts gates.

"Hey, Harry," Neville said.

"What's up, Nev?" Harry asked sleepily.

"Well, Ron and Hermione went out to find McGonagall, right?"

"Sure."

"And that was four hours ago, right?"

"Was it?" Harry asked. He must have drifted off at some point, he realized.

"Yeah, it was. So they must not have found her."

"Guess not."

"Well, she's right outside."

"She is?" Harry asked, all trace of drowsiness gone. He looked around for Madam Pomfrey, but she seemed to be out somewhere. Well, there was nothing else for it. Agonizingly, he stood up and limped towards the door.

o—o—o—o

"Well, we've searched the staff room, the Common Room, every teacher's office, all known corridors of Hogwarts, Hagrid's Hut, the dungeons, the Great Hall, the lake, the Quidditch Pitch, the astronomy tower, and most of the empty classrooms, but there's been no sign of her," Ron moaned in despair. He and Hermione were standing in the entrance hall trying to decide where to look next.

"Sign of whom?" asked a familiar voice. The pair turned to see Professor McGonagall standing at the entrance, taking off her coat and looking curious.

"Professor!" Hermione said with relief. "We finally found you!"

"Me?" McGonagall asked in surprise. "Is Peeves acting up again?"

"No," Hermione said at the same time that Ron said "Probably."

"Well, than what can I help you with?"

"It's about Milo," Hermione said. "He's innocent!"

McGonagall's face hardened.

"I understand he's your friend, but there were dozens of witnesses. I'm sorry, but I have no choice but to expel him."

"No, Professor, you don't understand. You see—" Hermione froze. She was about to say, 'you see, he was seen using a wand and Milo's magic doesn't need wands,' but she realized that that would just get him expelled for a different reason. She began to realize that maybe, this time, she hadn't thought their plan all the way through. "He wouldn't do something like that," she finished lamely.

"Yeah," said Ron. "I mean, he's a bit of a nutter, mind, but he's Harry's mate. He wouldn't hex him like that."

"I'm sorry," McGonagall said. "But without something a bit more than your gut feelings, the case is open and shut. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a great deal of paperwork to do. Unless one of you has something concrete?"

"I asked him to," said a voice. Hermione turned in surprise to see Harry, wrapped in bandages and casts, leaning weakly against a doorway on the upper level.

"Harry, what—" Hermione asked.

"I asked him to pretend to hex me," Harry said. "We found out that Malfoy had concocted a some nutty plan to rig the Quidditch match and make Firebolt look bad, and he thought for some reason that Milo would hex me to protect the reputation of the broomstick company. Can't imagine why. So I asked Milo to pretend to go along with it, and faked the whole thing. Malfoy thought his plan had worked, and his team pretended to lose control of their brooms. It was all faked. Milo never really hexed me."

McGonagall, Ron, and Hermione stared at him, shock evident on their faces.

McGonagall's mouth moved a few times, as if she were about to speak, but couldn't quite find the words. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at her in hopeful silence. Eventually, she rallied somewhat.

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