The following day found Gabriel walking alongside Hermione to their first class of the year - which, coincidentally, happened to be one of the electives they had both chosen.
Though, after comparing his timetable with hers, Gabriel had quickly realized that any elective he could have picked - save for "Alchemy" with Dumbledore - would've landed him in at least one class with Hermione.
"Why did you pick all of them?" he asked with a furrowed brow, watching her walk with her usual determined stride. "Even Muggle Studies?"
"I thought it would be quite educational to understand the wizarding point of view on Muggle society and life," she said matter-of-factly, though her attention seemed elsewhere - her eyes kept flicking toward his own timetable with suspicious interest.
"That actually sounds interesting," he admitted, then frowned again. "But, uh... how are you even going to attend all of them? I'm pretty sure half of those classes happen at the same time."
"I already spoke with Professor McGonagall," Hermione said curtly.
He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate. She didn't.
"Right…" he muttered, dragging the word out. Then, taking a deep breath, he reached out and placed a hand gently on her shoulder, stopping her mid-step.
"Hermione," he said quietly, "what's wrong?"
She stayed still for a moment, her back to him. When she finally turned, her expression nearly made him flinch. Her lips were pressed tight, her eyes glassy - angry, yes, but also hurt.
"I thought we were friends," she said softly, voice trembling just enough to sting.
"And we are," Gabriel replied immediately, his tone firm and sincere.
"Then why," she continued, voice tightening, "did my friend not tell me he'd been chosen by the greatest wizard of our age to be his apprentice? Why did I have to find out when everyone else did?"
Gabriel sighed. "Because Professor Dumbledore told me it was supposed to be a secret until he announced it," he explained.
That, at least, seemed to drain the worst of the anger from her. She frowned, searching his face for any hint of dishonesty, then finally let out a slow, weary sigh.
"I can't exactly blame you for that," she admitted quietly. "If Professor Dumbledore said it, then… well, it must've been for a reason."
Gabriel smiled faintly in relief - until she added, dryly:
"It's just rather funny that out of all the rules you've broken, this is the one you decided to follow, isn't it?"
He winced. 'Yeah, that's fair.'
Before he could say anything, Hermione turned away and started climbing the staircase toward the Divination Tower, her bag bouncing slightly against her side.
Gabriel stared after her for a few seconds, hand half-raised like he might reach for her - then he exhaled loudly, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration.
"Oh, for Merlin's-"
He groaned, stepped forward, and in one swift motion, scooped Hermione clean off the ground, making sure to hold her in a way that wouldn't hurt but also wouldn't allow her to pick up her wand.
"Gabriel!?" she squeaked, immediately flailing in his arms. "Put me down! Put me down this instant!"
Her bag slipped to her side, her shoes kicked uselessly against his leg, and she tried to glare at him - but the effect was somewhat ruined by how red her face had gone.
"Relax," he grumbled, marching down the corridor with her still squirming in his arms. "You're mad, I'm fixing it."
"I'm not mad!" she hissed, trying to push against his chest. "You're embarrassing me! People are looking!"
Indeed, several nearby students had stopped to watch, some laughing, others whispering.
Gabriel didn't slow down.
He sighed inwardly, ignoring the stares. 'It's my second time doing this,' he thought to himself, 'Maybe I can blame it on being a half-giant? Picking up damsels and carrying them off? Fuck, no, that's dragons'.
When they finally reached a quiet side corridor, he opened the nearest broom cupboard with a flick of his wand, stepped inside, and gently set Hermione on her feet before closing the door behind them.
The cramped space smelled faintly of broom polish and dust. Hermione huffed, cheeks still pink, her hair slightly disheveled, the blue glow of the halo of flames over Gabriel's head casting a surreal light across her face. She straightened her robes with sharp little tugs and glared up at him, her expression a mix of outrage and embarrassment.
"Gabriel, open that door."
"No." His tone was firm, his broad frame leaning against the wood and blocking the exit completely. "We need to talk."
"I'm not arriving late for the first class of the year." She raised her wand and pointed it right at his chest, though he didn't so much as flinch.
"I'm not letting this go for later, Hermione."
"Oh, now you don't want to tell me something later?" she asked with biting sarcasm, though her wand arm eventually lowered. With an irritated huff, she crossed her arms. "Fine then. Go on."
He smiled - the kind of disarming smile that usually made her scowl deepen - and, predictably, it did.
"Look, I wasn't lying. Dumbledore really did say the apprenticeship was supposed to be a secret until he announced it," he began. "And I do have another secret - well, surprise - to show you later. But you're right. Normally, I wouldn't care about keeping things quiet."
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"The real reason I didn't tell you was… well, first - I'll admit - I was a little miffed with you about the whole Gilderoy thing—"
"Oh, honestly, Gabriel-"
"But that wasn't all of it!" he interrupted quickly, his words tumbling out. "It's just… I know how much you would've liked to have this chance. And if I could, I'd trade places with you. But Dumbledore didn't choose me because I earned it, or because my work's better, or because he saw some special potential. It's something my mum arranged with him, in exchange for- ah, damn it, that's supposed to be a secret too!"
He let out an exasperated groan, raking a hand through his hair. "To hell with it, I'll tell you everything later. The point is, it wasn't about me. There wasn't some test you could've taken or any exam I could've asked him to apply to you. And I just… didn't want to see you hurt or angry like this, so I kept putting it off until I couldn't anymore." He took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I really am. Please don't be mad."
For a moment, the only sound was their breathing - his deep and steady, hers sharp and uneven. She looked up at him searchingly, her gaze softening.
"I wasn't angry that you got the apprenticeship and I didn't," she said quietly, then frowned with a scowl and looked aside. "No, that's not true. I was. But more than that, I was upset that you kept it a secret from me - from me, specifically. You know how much I care about these things, and it felt like you were… laughing behind my back."
"I'd never do that," he said immediately, tilting her chin up with a gentle finger so she'd meet his eyes.
Hermione's eyes widened for an instant before her lips curved into something half-amused, half-fond. "No," she said softly. "If you found it funny, you'd laugh in my face."
"Exactly," he agreed with a small, crooked grin.
For a long moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them thick with something new.
"I suppose I also have a secret to tell you," Hermione said at last, voice barely above a whisper, though she didn't look away.
"Later," he said quietly, stepping closer.
"Yeah," she breathed, eyes flicking down to his mouth. "Gabriel?"
"Hm?"
"Why were you so mad about... about how I acted with Professor Lockhart last year?"
He'd already leaned in as she spoke, the closeness making him painfully aware of the difference in their heights - she barely reached his chest, even standing straight. The small, enclosed space made them acutely aware of every shared breath. Her eyes were wide and curious, her cheeks flushed pink.
Their foreheads brushed, and he couldn't help it - his gaze dropped to her lips as his thumb, black nails catching the faint blue light, brushed along the corner of her mouth. Her breath hitched, and she started to pant in short, uneven bursts. The sight of her slightly crooked front teeth made him smile softly, fondly.
"I wonder," he murmured, voice low and rough.
Their noses touched-
Hermione froze, eyes wide, and then jumped back as if burned. "W-we're late!" she squeaked, her voice an octave higher than usual. "We're very late for class, Gabriel, we have to go, I forgive you, everything's fine, really, it's- it's all fine!"
She shoved past him, yanked the door open, and practically fled out into the corridor, her curls bouncing wildly as she went.
Gabriel stared after her, still leaning against the wall, his heart hammering.
"Fuck," he muttered, a nervous, exhilarated grin spreading across his face.
-~=~-
Moments later, Gabriel climbed the silvery ladder, pushing open the trapdoor and stepping into what could only be described as a cross between a fortune-teller's tent and a dragon's stomach.
The Divination classroom was circular, dim, and stiflingly warm. Several small round tables filled the space, each surrounded by squashy armchairs and fat little poufs that looked like they'd swallow a person whole. The windows were all curtained shut, bathing everything in a dim crimson glow from the lamps that hung under dark red scarves.
For a brief moment, Gabriel felt the heavy, perfumed heat pressing down on him - the thick scent of burning incense mixing with something sweet and metallic from the large copper kettle bubbling above the fire under the crowded mantelpiece. Then, mercifully, the cool Bluebell Flames under his robes and the faint halo over his head kicked in, pushing back the oppressive warmth.
The shelves circling the room were packed with oddities: dusty feathers, stubby candles, decks of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a forest of teacups that looked like they'd seen better centuries.
His gaze quickly found Hermione, already seated with Parvati, Lavender, and the other Gryffindor girls - a rare sight, since she usually avoided the gossip-heavy crowd like the plague. Judging by her deep blush and the mortified way she kept adjusting her collar while Parvati and Lavender whispered and giggled beside her, she clearly regretted the choice.
Gabriel snorted quietly, amused. He scanned the room for an empty seat and found one at the next table over - conveniently close enough to make Hermione twitch. He dropped down into the chair beside a faintly amused Harry and a Ron who was sniffing the air like he couldn't decide if he liked the smell or not.
"Hey," Harry greeted with a small nod.
Gabriel returned it with an easy grin, before turning his attention to their professor.
Sybil Trelawney stood at the front of the room, a thin, almost skeletal woman wrapped in layer upon layer of gauzy shawls that shimmered like old cobwebs. Gigantic glasses magnified her eyes until they looked like the bottom of crystal balls themselves, and every inch of her seemed to jingle - from the beads and chains around her neck to the rings and bangles clinking on her hands.
'She looks like a hippie,' Gabriel noted privately, hiding a small smile as he settled back in his seat.
"-and so," Trelawney was saying, in a dreamy, misty voice, "we shall be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term, we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear-" she suddenly turned on Parvati Patil, making the girl jump, "-beware a red-haired man."
Parvati's eyes went wide, and she immediately shifted her chair several inches away from Ron, who froze mid-sniff.
Gabriel had to bite his hand to stop a laugh, while beside him Harry's shoulders shook silently. Ron gave them both a narrow-eyed glare until Harry mouthed a hasty sorry.
"In the second term," Professor Trelawney continued serenely, "we shall progress to the crystal ball - if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter," she paused dramatically, "one of our number will leave us… forever."
A tense silence filled the room.
Gabriel leaned slightly toward Harry, whispering, "I'll put five Galleons it's not me."
Harry barely held back a snort.
"I'd make you disappear myself for five Galleons," said an grinning Ron.
Harry let his head fall to the table with a whine, sounding like a teapot.
Professor Trelawney, apparently oblivious, turned to Lavender Brown, her magnified eyes blinking owlishly. "I wonder, dear, if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"
Lavender looked so relieved to have been spoken to that she nearly tripped on her way to fetch it. She placed the enormous teapot on the table before Trelawney, who smiled vaguely.
"Thank you, my dear. Incidentally," she added, eyes unfocused, "that thing you are dreading - it will happen on Friday, the sixteenth of October."
Lavender went pale, trembling visibly.
"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs," Professor Trelawney announced, her voice floating dreamily through the perfumed air. "Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink! Drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer. Wait for the last of the tea to drain away, and then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear-" she caught Neville by the arm just as he made to stand, "after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue-patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."
A soft clatter followed her prophecy, and the sound of smashing porcelain filled the room. Gabriel turned just in time to see Neville Longbottom staring in horror at the shards of his teacup, trembling so much he nearly dropped the saucer too.
"Ah," said Trelawney serenely, already gliding toward him with a dustpan and brush. "One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn't mind... thank you."
Gabriel blinked.
'She's either a gifted Seer that acts like a fraud or a skilled fraud that acts like a Seer,' he thought dryly, watching her sweep up the shards. 'And I honestly don't know which would be funnier.'
He joined the stream of students at the shelf, selecting a cup at random, passing Hermione - who was very intently pretending he didn't exist - on the way to the teapot, and giving her a wink.
The tea was far hotter than comfortable and so bitter it almost made him gag. He considered cooling it magically, but then frowned - he didn't know enough about divination to guess if tampering with the temperature might alter the reading. So instead, he grimaced and gulped it down as fast as he could.
It burned all the way down, sitting like a small fire in his stomach.
Once finished, he followed Trelawney's instructions - swirling the cup three times, inverting it over the saucer, and watching the dregs trickle down.
He looked at Ron and Harry beside him. With three of them sharing one table, they'd have to improvise.
"I'll take Harry's, you take mine, and Harry takes yours," Gabriel suggested.
"Works for me," said Ron with a shrug, sliding the cups along.
Opening Unfogging the Future to the assigned page, Gabriel studied the murky illustrations: twisted shapes, dots, and smears that the book claimed represented everything from treasure to doom. His eyes flicked between the inky tea residue in Harry's cup and the chart.
"Right," he muttered, frowning. "Harry, I think you've got the... The Grim."
His voice faltered - the words came out slower, heavier. The moment he saw it, he felt something cold and strange creep up his spine. There, in the dregs, was the unmistakable silhouette of a massive black dog - its jaws open, its form shadowed yet clear.
"The Grim…" he repeated, tone distant.
"Cheerful," Harry said dryly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"The Grim…" Gabriel echoed again, his eyes unfocused now.
"Yeah, mate, we got it, the Grim!" Ron said dramatically, peering into the cup. "What does it say on the blasted book?"
But Gabriel didn't hear him anymore.
All Gabriel could hear was a bark.
A violent, angry, remorseful bark - A pitiful sound that tears through the soul. But the more it echoed, the less it sounded like rage. Each back softer, lighter, until the growl turned into a howl, and the howl into laughter.
He saw a great black dog sprinting across the sunlit fields of Hogwarts. It ran through crowds of laughing students, chasing the wind, rolling in the grass, tail wagging wildly. The bark was bright now, gleeful, free.
Then - night.
The same dog, now flanked by others: one that shone like moonlight, one crowned with antlers, one small and twitching with a rat's tail. Together they raced through the Forbidden Forest, phantoms beneath the silver canopy - playing, hunting, dancing under the stars.
And then she appeared - a red dog, her fur like flame, her eyes two beautiful gleaming emeralds. She danced with the horned one beneath the trees while the Grim laughed and circled them, his joy so full it made the night itself shimmer.
But the laughter ended.
The air split with explosions. Shadows crept between the trees. The dog of moonlight was gone.
The forest shook.
The Grim barked a command, leading the survivors toward a hollow beneath a stone. The horned dog and the one with fiery fur slipped inside, and he saw her belly was round - heavy with life. The Grim barked again, joyful even in chaos, and turned to the rat-tailed one. He told him to seal the den - to hide them, to protect them - and the little one nodded, piling the stones shut.
Then the Grim turned and ran into the dark.
He hunted the shadows. He fought and tore and bled.
But when he came back, the stones were gone.
The hole lay open to the night.
Inside were bodies - still and lifeless. The horned one. The fire-haired one. And a mewling put, crying and bleeding.
The Grim barked again - barked and barked, until fury cracked into agony, and agony into madness. He howled as he saw the flick of a rat's tail vanishing into the dark, and he chased it, barking, barking, barking - until the sound became the same tortured cry that had started it all.
And then -
Gabriel gasped awake.
He sat upright, chest heaving, his skin slick with sweat. The classroom swam into view - frightened faces, overturned teacups, spilled leaves. His hands trembled; his Bluebell Flames had guttered out.
"Gabriel?" Hermione's voice was the first to break through. She was kneeling beside him, scanning him for anything wrong, her eyes wide and worried.
Harry looked pale. "Mate, your eyes were- glowing blue," he said hoarsely. "And you were- you were saying-"
"What?" Gabriel rasped. His throat was dry, his mind a haze.
"We don't know," Hermione said softly. "It was- it was Portuguese."
Before he could speak again, Professor Trelawney swept in, her bangles clattering, her hands shaking as they clutched his shoulders. Her enormous eyes, magnified by her glasses, gleamed with wild delight.
"What did you see?" she demanded, voice trembling between fear and ecstasy.
Gabriel blinked at her. His breath still came in ragged bursts.
"I have no fucking idea," he said.