Chapter 4 - Ron's Reaction
Hermione and Ron stayed with them for most of the journey to Hogwarts; they had to leave occasionally to patrol the carriages but even Hermione didn't seem very eager to do so (much to Harry's surprise), so they were only gone a few minutes each time. The cheery witch who pushed the trolley came round passing out small magical lanterns and apologies for the darkness. None of them minded much, particularly Harry. He was enjoying being back in the company of his friends far too much. He was glad that no-one mentioned Voldemort or what had happened, instead they talked mostly about their OWL results and what subjects they would be taking at NEWT level. Harry had almost forgotten about his results, which he had read and accepted rather on automatic pilot during his second week at Privet Drive. He could remember sending Hedwig off with his reply to the school now, but his thoughts had been elsewhere . . .
"But that's brilliant, Harry!" Hermione was saying. "Mostly 'E's is fantastic, you can pretty much pick any subject you want . . ."
"What did you get in yours, Hermione?" he asked, although he was pretty sure he could guess the answer.
"Here's a clue," said Ron, opening his mouth in a wide 'O' shape like a fish. Hermione hit him on the arm but her cheeks had gone quite pink.
"Almost all 'O's" she said, looking both proud and embarrassed at the same time. "I did get an 'E' in Astronomy, though."
"Oh no," said Ron, mock-disappointed.
"We got 'O's in Astronomy," said Parvarti.
"Yeah," agreed Lavender. "It goes hand in hand with Divination, so we knew we had to work hard at it."
"That's a point," said Ron. "Harry, what did you get in Divination mate?"
"Um . . . I got a 'P' . . ." he said with a grin, and Ron gave him a nod that was unmistakably "me too".
"You shouldn't really be proud of it," said Hermione, rather crossly.
Her stern look only made them grin even more.
"Hey, it's not like we didn't try," said Ron. "We even managed to get some 'O's too - well, I only got one for Care Of Magical Creatures, but I bet Harry got one for Defence Against The Dark Arts too?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "And, um, I got one in Charms too."
"Really? Well done mate!"
"Thanks."
Harry could feel the blush rising on his cheeks now too. Hermione was looking particularly pleased at this news and her smile was making him feel all tingly again. He sat back in his chair and was happy enough to listen for a while as his friends chatted: Hermione was asking Padma what she thought their Arithmancy course would be like, and Ron was happily telling Parvarti and Lavender about how he and Harry were planning on becoming Aurors. Harry's gaze kept coming back to rest on Hermione, watching as she happily talked with Padma, seeing the twinkle in her eyes that shone whenever she was excited about something. He knew he had to be careful not to stare too much as, after all, he was sharing a carriage with Hogwarts' two biggest gossips. He thought he was doing quite well; no-one seemed to find his quietness strange, and he happily spoke to them when they addressed him, but then just after he been speaking with Hermione about the fantastic owl she'd used to send him the letter from Salem he happened to glance at Padma and she gave him a rather knowing smile. Harry at once felt a jolt of panic and it must have showed; her smile softened and then he understood. She wasn't going to say anything.
Padma knows, Harry thought. I hardly ever see her to talk to her, but in the time we've been in the carriage together she's figured it out. How long have I got before Ron figures it out? Before Hermione does?
The train sped on, bringing them closer to Hogwarts and their sixth year of magical learning. Harry stared out of the window into the darkness for a while, watching the rain as it splattered against the glass. His mind was a turmoil once more. This year was going to bring so much change, he could feel it. Voldemort wouldn't stay dormant for much longer. Even if it wasn't an attack against Harry himself, he would strike somewhere and make his presence felt soon. It would be hard to concentrate on his NEWT studies, knowing that he was out there somewhere, growing stronger by the day. And then of course, there was Hermione . . . telling her how he felt would be risking it all. She might, as his heart hoped beyond all hope, return his feelings. On the other hand, it could shock and scare her. Could their friendship survive such a blow? Was it worth that risk?
He looked away from the window and was surprised to see Hermione quickly look away from him, her cheeks turning pink again. Harry was shocked.
Was she just . . ?
She had been staring at him. And now she was embarrassed at being caught. Harry felt a surge of joy and hope - maybe there was a chance after all, that she might feel something for him . . .
He knew then that it was worth the risk.
"We'd better go check on those first years again, Hermione," Ron said, sounding like it was the last thing he wanted to do.
"Okay."
She gave Harry a rather shy, quick smile as she left the compartment. Ron followed her, and as Harry watched his friends red hair vanish through the door he felt a stab of guilt. He would have to tell Ron, and it would have to be soon.
Two weeks passed before Harry was finally able to take the plunge and talk to Ron. For the first few days he was kept occupied with the task of adjusting to the new school year: there was no denying that his NEWT subjects were harder than ever, and there were additional things consuming his time - they had begun studying Apparition, something which Harry was keen to learn but was dismayed to find out would take the entire year to cover, and there was something else which caught him completely by surprise. He was summoned to Professor McGonagall's office on the second day of term, and after inviting him to sit down she handed him a small, golden pin which featured a Golden Snitch in front of two crossed broomsticks.
"This is an additional responsibility that Professor Dumbledore and I both agreed you might enjoy," she told him with a warm smile. Harry kept looking from the pin to McGonagall and back to the pin again, not knowing quite what to say.
"Professor, I . . . thank you . . ."
Quidditch Captain.
"You're welcome, Mr Potter. I trust that the Quidditch Cup will be remaining in my office for another year?"
Harry smiled.
"You can count on it."
Ron had slapped him on the back admirably when he'd shown it to him ("Knew you'd get it mate!") and Hermione had treated him to another hug which he was reluctant to end. Being Quidditch Captain had filled him with pride, but it also came with a lot of time-consuming responsibility. He had to start planning their training sessions, and with the departure of Fred, George and Angelina the Gryffindor team was two Beaters and one Chaser short, so he would have to organise tryouts as well . . .
And then there was his talk with Professor Dumbledore. Almost a week after their return to Hogwarts Harry was summoned to the Headmaster's office in the evening. Dumbledore inclined his head in a slow nod as Harry entered his office and sat down.
"Ah, Harry . . . I expect you have been waiting for this moment?"
"Well, yes Professor, I can't say that I haven't - there's so much I need to ask you . . ."
"And I shall answer your questions Harry, as best as I can. But first I must ask that you listen to what I have to say . . . I know that you are still hurting from Sirius's death, and are still angry with me for the burden I have laid upon you with the prophecy, and because of that the time you spent at Privet Drive this summer must have been a trying one. I will try to explain to you why I requested that you remain there for the entire summer period, and why you were unable to meet your friends."
Harry listened expectantly.
"Have you been continuing your efforts at Occlumency?" Dumbledore asked.
"No."
"I see," Dumbledore said rather sadly. "Well Harry, I am sorry to tell you that you must resume your lessons with Professor Snape. It is imperative that you learn to close your mind from Voldemort."
"But Professor, there hasn't been anything! I haven't felt a twinge from Voldemort since-"
"Since the night he possessed you in the Department of Mysteries?"
Dumbledore's words stopped the anger that had been rising in Harry.
"I daresay that since that night Voldemort has been busy with other matters . . . now that the wizarding world is aware of his return, I am sure he is concentrating on building up his forces. However, he will turn his attention back to you Harry. It is inevitable. If you cannot learn Occlumency Voldemort will be able to possess you again, and he will learn everything about you. He will use any means to get to you, including those who you hold dearest."
Dumbledore's eyes were piercing over his half-moon spectacles as he stared at Harry intently, and Harry felt a sense of understanding between them. Those he held dearest . . .
"He will use any means to destroy you, Harry. He will hurt or kill those that you care for . . . those that you love . . . and if he cannot hurt you physically, well . . . there are other ways to destroy a wizard. Do you remember what it felt like when he possessed you, Harry?"
Harry shuddered and spoke quietly.
"I couldn't do anything . . . he wanted to kill you, and because he wanted to it felt like I wanted to as well . . . I wouldn't have been able to stop him."
"Can you imagine what you would feel like if you were again possessed by Voldemort and he made you kill someone you care for? If he made you kill Mr Weasley? Or Miss Granger?"
Harry visibly flinched at the thought of hurting Hermione.
"You see why you could not see your friends over the summer, Harry," Dumbledore said with a sigh of regret. "Here at Hogwarts it is, at least, a bit safer as there are many around who would be able to stop you should something happen. But if you had stayed with them during the summer, with hardly anyone around to protect you . . ."
"It might've happened," Harry said, scared to the very soul. "He might've made me kill Hermione . . . or Ron."
"You have every right to still be angry with me, Harry. I will answer any questions that you have now, but first let me tell you one more thing. Now, more than ever, is the time for us all to be truthful with one another. Secrets are weapons that can be used against us and against those we love. Tell your friends about the Prophecy, Harry. Let those you know, and those you love, know exactly what they mean to you."
He rested back in his chair with his hands folded together. Harry was silent, awash with the turmoil Dumbledore's words had brought. He was right, as he always was. He didn't have any questions anymore.
And so a week had passed since his talk with Dumbledore, and Harry had spent a great deal of time quiet and absorbed in his thoughts. Ron and Hermione had both been worried about him and could do nothing to make him tell them what was wrong; it hurt Harry to see his friends so concerned for him, but he had to make sense of things properly before he could begin to tell them everything that needed to be told. Everything was pressing down on him uncomfortably: his studies, organising quidditch tryouts and training (which took a lot more work than Harry thought it would, and made him wonder how Angelina and Oliver had managed it before), the prospect of more time in the company of Snape renewing the Occlumency training . . . and of course, Hermione. She occupied his thoughts more than anything. Even when she was there with him, he still thought about her. All the things he wanted to do, all the things he wanted to say, all the feelings that he knew were going to drive him crazy if he didn't reveal them soon. He thought he was doing a good job of hiding them though; of the times they'd been alone together, mostly working in the library or sitting near the fire in the common room, they'd talked, laughed and joked together as they had for the last five years. There was no tension, no unease in being around her by himself . . . until something happened, as it always would. It would be something small, such as his hand accidentally brushing hers - something that had happened countless times in the past - and a jolt of what seemed like electricity would run through him and all his nerves and worry would come flooding back. What if she says no? What if it makes her hate me?
And so the night came when he could finally stand it no more. Harry knew that he needed to tell Hermione how he felt, and that he needed to tell her soon. But before he could do that, he needed to tell Ron. Outside the castle a storm was raging, and the common room was full of eager Gryffindors letting off steam. Hermione had departed to the library - no surprise there.
"See you later, Harry," she said with a smile as she brushed past so close to him he could smell the apple and cinnamon of her hair. He felt rather light-headed as he said goodbye and turned to Ron, more resolved than ever. He managed to persuade him to a game of wizard's chess up in their dormitory.
"Why not here?" asked Ron. "It's lovely and warm by the fire."
"Um . . . it's too crowded, and I need to concentrate. I've been working on my game, see, and I think I'm finally going to beat you Weasley."
Ron gave him a broad grin.
"Oh is that right, Potter? Well, we'll see about that!"
They were on their third game. To Harry's dismay he had lost the first in record time and Ron was all ready to go back to the common room before he could even begin to broach the subject of Hermione, but he succumbed to the temptation of a second game and to Harry's own surprise he almost fought Ron to a draw. Ron was so impressed that, despite winning, he went on for a third game. Ron had been munching his way through a large box of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans and throughout their games the boys had talked about a number of things: quidditch, hating Snape, the amount of work NEWT levels required, hating Snape, whether they could actually try and break the enchantment stopping anyone Apparating in the castle, and hating Snape. Harry also thought to throw in some good-natured ribbing about Luna Lovegood, who had taken to joining them at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall and following Ron along the corridors. Ron's face had turned almost the same colour of his hair and he told Harry to "Shut it"; Harry's laughter brought him a handful of Every-Flavour Beans aimed at his face.
"Oi, watch it!" Harry said, holding up a green bean. "That was a sprout one, it could have gone in my mouth!"
"That was the general idea, Captain," Ron replied with a grin, and concentrated on the chessboard.
Harry's grin faded as he inwardly steeled himself.
"Um, listen, Ron . . . there's something I need to talk to you about."
"What's up, mate?" Ron didn't pick up on the tone of Harry's voice and continued to frown at the chessboard as he took another handful of beans . . . Harry's King was vulnerable, but he hadn't seemed to have noticed . . .
"Well . . . it's about Hermione."
Ron spat out a bean with a look of horror on his face. Harry gulped; how could he have known just from that?
"Ergh, I swear that one was haggis!"
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but then frowned in curiosity.
"When have you ever eaten haggis?"
"Dad persuaded Mum to do some Muggle cooking once, you know, like traditional Muggle dishes? Of all the things he had to pick . . ."
Harry laughed at the thought of it.
"So what about Hermione?" Ron asked, sounding perfectly normal as he inspected the other beans in his hand for suspicious-looking flavours. Harry's laughter died and he swallowed nervously.
"Well . . . lately I've been . . . no, it's been a lot longer than just lately, actually . . . I've been having, well, feelings for her."
Ron was now looking at Harry with one eyebrow raised, as if trying to work out some complex Potions formula.
"What kind of . . . feelings?" he asked warily.
"More than friendly feelings," Harry answered, his eyes not leaving Ron's. Ron held his gaze for a long time, and Harry was unable to work out what Ron was thinking. His expression was unreadable.
"I see."
It wasn't the response Harry had been hoping for.
"Is that all you're going to say?" he asked.
"What else do you want me to say?" Ron replied, quite blunty.
"I don't know," Harry said, gesticulating with his arms, "how about whether you think I have any chance with her? Or what you feel about it?"
Ron was looking down at the chessboard again. He moved one of his pieces thoughtfully.
"Ron?"
"Have you told her yet?" Ron asked.
"Um, no, I haven't . . ."
"And why haven't you?"
"I wanted to tell you first - I needed to tell you first, mate."
"Why?" Ron said, anger beginning to become audible in his voice. "So you could ask for my permission?"
"Well . . . yes. And no."
Ron started, surprised by Harry's reply. The anger that had begun to rise quickly subsided again.
"What do you mean?
Harry looked down at the chessboard and made his move; for some reason he felt that it would be easier to keep Ron talking about this if they continued the game.
"There can't be anymore secrets between us, Ron. I think you like Hermione too."
Harry watched his best friend carefully for his reaction. And there it was: Ron looked up at him with unmistakable pain in his eyes.
"OK . . . I do like Hermione too. I've liked her for a long time."
"Then why haven't you told her that?"
"I don't know," said Ron, looking at the chessboard once again. "I've been too afraid, I suppose. I don't get girls."
He moved a piece.
"So you like her too?"
"It's more than that, Ron . . . I'm . . . in love with her."
Ron's eyes widened slightly and his intake of breath was sharp. The pain was evident in his eyes again, but Harry could see the anger returning.
"In a way, I want to ask your permission. I want to know if you'll be okay with me telling Hermione how I feel, and if you'll be okay with the possibility of her feeling something in return for me."
Harry moved his rook.
"No. I'm not okay with it."
Ron got up from the bed and crossed over to the window. He stared out at the falling rain for a moment, and Harry could see him visibly shaking. He instinctively knew what was coming, and braced himself for his friend's rage.
"WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE HER, HARRY?"
"Ron, I-"
"JUST TELL ME! TELL ME WHY! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO SPOIL EVERYTHING FOR ME?"
Harry was worried that all of Gryffindor Tower would be able to hear Ron's bellowing.
"Ron, we can't help who we have feelings for, none of us can. We can't help who we fall in love with!"
"But why Hermione?" Ron cried, not caring for Harry's explanation. "You could have your pick of any of the girls in Hogwarts, you know you could! You have to go and fall for the one girl that I care for! THE ONE GIRL THAT I'VE PICTURED MYSELF BEING HAPPY WITH!"
Harry had stood himself now and approached Ron slowly, holding his hands out in peace. Ron's face had gone almost as red as his hair again.
"Ron, I would never intentionally hurt you, you know that . . ."
Harry braced himself for the brunt of Ron's next outburst, but it didn't come. He felt a great sorrow wash over him as he saw Ron's anger fade into pure, exquisite pain. His eyes were shiny, and Harry was pretty sure he was on the verge of tears.
Please don't cry Ron, he thought, or I'm going to start too.
"Well nice bloody try," Ron said emotionally.
He walked back over to the window and looked out at the rain again. Harry took another few cautious steps towards him.
"Ron, please talk to me."
Lightning flickered outside the window, and was soon followed by a loud rumble of thunder.
"I really, really like her, Harry . . . I know we argue a lot. Merlin, there are times when that girl annoys me more than even Umbridge used to . . ."
Harry took another step forward and now Ron turned to face him again. His face had gone quite pale, but the shininess in his eyes was still there.
"But there are times, Harry, when I'm with her and she makes me feel so special . . . she makes me feel important, Harry. I know that we could be good together. I know that she could be the right girlfriend!"
"Ron . . ."
"Please don't take that away from me, Harry! I know that I've been jealous of you in the past, for being famous and better at quidditch and stuff like that, stuff that you can't help. I realised that, I know I've been stupid about it. But this is something you have a choice in, Harry. Please . . . don't take her away from me."
Harry felt his heart break for his friend. He felt awful for he was about to say, but he knew he had to say it.
"Ron . . . I can't take away something that you don't have."
Harry winced inwardly as Ron closed his eyes, looking as if he'd just taken a Bludger to the chest.
"I know that's an awful thing to say, and I'm sorry, please believe me that I'm sorry, but it's true. Hermione's not your girlfriend."
Harry now turned away himself and walked to the foot of his bed, where he stared at the chessboard. Only a few pieces remained.
"I love her, Ron, and it's something that I can't suppress any longer. I have to tell her how I feel, and I need to know if there's any chance she might feel something back for me. It's my only chance . . ."
He spoke these last words quietly, but Ron heard them and approached him quietly.
"What do you mean, it's your only chance?"
Harry sighed and hung his head. He hadn't wanted it to come down to this; it would sound like the most unfair excuse in history.
"Ron . . . the weapon that Voldemort was searching for in the Department of Mysteries was a prophecy, one that was about me and him. It was in the crystal ball we found, but it got smashed during the fight. I know what the prophecy said though, as Dumbledore is the one it was told too."
He turned around and looked at his best friend. The hurt was still there, but now there was puzzlement and curiosity as well.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches," Harry said, speaking words that had been seemingly burnt into his memory. "Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . . . and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not . . . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . . the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."
Ron's mouth was opening and closing like a fish.
"That means . . ."
"I have to kill him, Ron. If I don't kill him, he's going to kill me. Neither can live while the other survives."
Harry removed his glasses for a moment and closed his eyes, rubbing one hand over his forehead and tracing the familiar lightning-bolt shape of his scar.
"I don't know how much time I have. Sooner or later, Voldemort is going to come for me. I'm supposed to be the only one who can stop him, but . . . I don't know. I've had to face up to the fact that I may not be around for much longer."
He looked Ron straight in the eye as he spoke his next words.
"I love her, Ron, more than anything. Until I came to this world I didn't even know that happiness even existed. I've found acceptance here."
He reached out and grabbed Ron's arm.
"I've found friendship here. You're the best friend I could ever have hoped for, and you always will be."
A smile broke the corner of Ron's mouth.
"But most of all, I've found love. I've found someone that I know that I could be happy with. You and Hermione are the most important things in my life, but I've realised now that I need Hermione to be important for a different reason."
Ron walked over to stand next to him and looked down at the chessboard. Harry could see a whirlwind of emotions running across his face, as he processed everything. He reached down and moved his piece.
"I'm sorry if it's going to hurt you, Ron, but I'm going to tell Hermione how I feel. I don't know what's going to happen. She might get scared and freaked out and not want to be my friend anymore. But there may be a chance that she'll say the same thing back to me."
Harry looked at Ron, who was still staring at the chessboard, and spoke with every bit of emotion unhidden, finally freed.
"I may die soon . . . and if there's a chance for me to be happy before that happens, then I'm going to take it."
Harry felt tears welling up in his eyes, and he saw that Ron's eyes were shining with tears once again. Ron closed his eyes and hung his head for a moment.
"I know you are, Harry," he said softly.
Head down, he left the room without another word. Harry sighed, feeling possibly the worst he had ever felt in his life. He looked down at the chessboard and moved his rook once more; he watched with no satisfaction as it clubbed Ron's king and the tiny little crown fell from it's head and rolled away.
"Checkmate," Harry said sadly.