The Worrying Keeper of the Hunting Grounds

Some things grew better with the passage of time, while others were part of a cycle, returning to where they had started as time went by.

This world, however, was rising in a spiral. Though the cycle repeated itself, each turn was a little better than the one before.

Those hidden, unknown things would eventually become important pillars.

This was a grand drama. When it was time for someone to leave the stage, they would do so—it had all been arranged. Of course, accidents sometimes happened, but even those were within Jon the director's control. The performers onstage included those kept in the dark, as well as the "actors" who acted according to his will.

After all, his original inspiration had been The Truman Show.

On Sunday morning, Hermione made her way through two feet of snow toward Hagrid's Hut.

Harry and Ron had wanted to accompany her, but their "homework mountain" had once again risen to a terrifying height, so the two reluctantly stayed in the Common Room, doing their best to ignore the cheers coming from downstairs.

The students were skating on the lake and riding sleds. Worse yet, they were using magic to send snowballs flying up to Gryffindor Tower, where they slammed into the windows.

"Hey!"

Ron finally lost patience. He stuck his head out the window and shouted, "I'm a Prefect! If another snowball hits this window—ow!"

He jerked his head back, his face covered in snow.

"It was Fred and George." He slammed the window shut and said bitterly, "Those little gits..."

Hermione did not return from Hagrid's until just before lunch. She was shivering slightly, and her robes were soaked below the knees.

"How did it go?" Ron asked, looking up when she came in. "Did you get his lessons ready?"

"I tried,"