Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. Everything else, along with the plot, is mine though, but I'll let you borrow if you ask nicely ^______^.
Uhm…I only got 7 reviews off ff.net, while I got 11 on Portkey, must say I was expecting the contrary, since I seem to be more appreciated on ff.net than the latter, based on my previous fic of course. Maybe this is a bit too dark for the ffn readers. Whatever, I really LOVED the reviews! Remember, I appreciate ALL sorts of criticism so long as it's constructive. Well, I'm in really no mood to do my review replies right now, I'm a little too tired for that, just know that whatever question you have will be answered (eventually) as the story unfolds. By the way, I was planning to put a chapter up a week, but I found out that my new job is FAR more exhausting than I originally thought, so I might not be able to keep up with that (I tried to bring myself to post this last week, I just couldn't force myself to though), but I will try.
A special thank you to Michelle White and J Choo for being the wonderful beta readers that they are before letting you go onto reading this yourselves.
On with the fic.
Harry Potter and the Bite of No Mortibus
Chapter 2: The changes of Grimmauld Place
With the loud crash of a breaking chair, Harry made his entrance into the mausoleum where the last of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black descendant had been only a few weeks earlier and now was no more. It was incredible to think it had been such a short time, when, in truth, it felt like years, even centuries.
Looking around though, Harry felt the rising doubt that he'd, again, landed in the wrong hearth. For one, there were no cobwebs, dust, or doxy ridden tapestries anywhere; there was light despite the fact that the sun was already setting; in the place of thick, suffocating, dark draperies stood rich, bright scarlet velvets with golden embroidery, a theme that repeated itself in the lining of the chairs and the tablecloth dressing the cherry wood table; and even the cupboards were a deep scarlet paint with golden edges, instead of the dark colours that he remembered of Grimmauld Place. He felt right at home.
But it was Grimmauld Place, he realized. The proof of it being a motherly redhead trying to help him up from his uncomfortable position on the cream marble of the floor. That had once been dark, too. Even the walls had taken a bright cream hue. "Oh, Harry dear, are you all right?" Molly Weasley gushed over him as she tried to dust the soot of the chimney off of him.
"Yeah, I'm okay," he replied, his voice dull, distant. Molly seemed to freeze at his tone. He didn't bother noticing. He should have known that she would be overly emotional toward him now, after what had happened at the Department of Mysteries. "What happened here?" He asked, referring to the change of scene, but before she could answer there was another burst from the chimney, and Tonks stood before them, her hair now bright orange and nose normal, a broken birdcage with a thoroughly ruffled Hedwig in hand, looking much cleaner than Harry, followed instantly by Kingsley Shacklebolt. Hedwig seemed to be unconscious. Had he been anywhere else, Harry would have worried for her. As it was, he hadn't even noticed.
"How's dinner coming along, Molly?" Kingsley asked the second he saw Mrs Weasley and the pots near the stove. Molly whacked him with her wooden spoon. Had she been holding that the whole time Harry had been there? Mad Eye Moody, Mundungus Fletcher, and Remus Lupin arrived just in time to get shooed out of the kitchen by her menacing weapon-the wooden spoon.
"Out, out, dinner won't be ready for another hour, so help Harry settle down in his room, and keep busy till I call you," she told them all, shoving them slightly out the door.
"Yes, yes, we'll stay out of your precious kitchen," Mundungus called over his shoulder, then turned to wink at Harry. "Ever since the place has been cleaned up she's taken it over and doesn't let anyone stay there for long if it's not for eating and Order business," he explained.
"What happened here?" Harry asked again when he looked at the entrance hall that they had just stepped into. It looked and felt a lot like Gryffindor tower, and, incredibly, the portrait of Mrs. Black was no longer hanging on the wall. There were no heavy curtains in that spot, not even a light shadow indicating that something had been there at all, and no one was telling him to keep his voice down. "Where did the portrait go? And the heads of the house elves?" Those were gone, too.
An uneasy silence fell over them all.
"Let's get you settled in Harry," Lupin told him quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder and leading him up the stairs. He was the most uncomfortable of them all. While Harry passed by the door of the study, he heard sounds of rummaging. He stopped wondering who it could be, and then he heard a familiar lecturing tone speak clearly enough to be heard on the other side of the door. "Fred, George, if you don't stop playing around we'll never finish this before Harry gets here!"
"Oh, come on, Mum," that sounded like Fred (or was it George?), stressing out the word "Mum" in the intention of making her loosen up. Lost cause, Harry thought.
"Yeah, we have plenty of time. Relax," George (or maybe Fred) added. Harry felt like stepping into their "plenty of time to relax". Without warning he opened the door and stepped inside. The first things he noticed were Fred and George holding a "Happy Birthday Harry!" sign that roared as it changed to the Gryffindor colours while they were flying-or trying to-not on broomstick, but with what looked like large twigs attached to their backs which flapped frantically in the attempt to hold them up.
"HARRY!" Hermione shrieked surprised. Fred and George turned to look at him and dropped the roaring sign.
"Harry!" They echoed, and tried to fly to him, but only managed a slow awkward float. "Hey, Harry, what do you think of our new invention?" Asked one of the twins, completely forgetting that a second earlier they were being urged to finish whatever they had been doing.
"They're called Hoversticks!" Fred told him eagerly. "They're still being tested, though."
"Yeah, but once they work well we'll introduce a whole new game," George said.
"A sport, really," corrected Fred. "In a couple years it ought to be as popular as Quidditch!"
"What do you think?" They asked together.
"Er…I think I like my Firebolt better," Harry replied uneasily.
"Oh, bloody hell! The bloke just got here, let him settle in! Hey, Harry, you wanna look at the new issue of Quidditch Weekly with me? The owl brought it this morning," Ron piped from a far corner where it was obvious that he hadn't been very intent in whatever they had been doing either.
"Maybe later, Ron," Harry mumbled quietly. He didn't really care all that much about what was going on in the Quidditch world, even if he would have loved a good, long, mind numbing ride on his Firebolt. Too bad he'd been banned from the team for life. Everyone seemed to freeze at his lack of enthusiasm, as though suddenly realizing that Harry must still be mourning his godfather's loss.
Everyone except for Hermione.
"Oh, honestly, Ron. You said yourself to let him settle in!" She told him, standing with her hands on her hips. "Oh, Harry, I'm so glad you're here!" She smiled at him as she turned to him and wrapped her arms tightly around him in a friendly comforting hug. Yet as she did so, the memory of her cold lifeless face came back out of his dreams from the recesses of his mind to freeze him. Hermione noticed-of course she did-but she refused to let go until he loosened up. And, after feeling her warmth, and the strength of her arms, he eased the tension of his pose and gave her a pat on the back. "Thanks, Hermione," he told her quietly; she grinned her welcome.
"No problem, Harry, but I need you out of here now, you weren't even supposed to see this till tomorrow, so out you go," she said playfully as she lightly shoved him out the door and locked it behind him. Not that Harry had seen a whole lot besides the Hoversticks and the roaring sign. For a second he stood staring at the closed door as he heard his petite friend bossing the twins from the other side.
"Move along, Harry," Tonks grunted as she shoved past, dangling the broken birdcage and the sleeping beauty within it in a very careless, possibly dangerous, manner. Was it just Harry's impression, or had she been in a rather dark mood the entire time? Oh, her hair had just turned a deep vermilion with ghastly green streaks, could that mean anything?
"Don't mind her, Harry, She got an owl this morning. Said she has to go to the Ministry in the morning for a new assignment," Lupin told him with an amused shrug. It seemed that he was aware of what the new assignment might be.
"Is that bad?" Harry asked without much enthusiasm.
"Aurors don't get reassigned. Only in case of emergency, but that can't be it. Ministry must think she's doing a bad job since she's always here or running an errand for Dumbledore" Kingsley explained. Tonks' grunt could be heard from inside the bedroom, the same one where Harry had already stayed before. The room had been transformed to look like his dorm in Gryffindor tower, giving him a strange sense of nostalgia. Hegwig seemed to cheer up quite a bit upon seeing her surroundings, though at the site of a restless Pig she quieted down, looking more disheveled than ever. The portrait of Phineas Nigellus was in its old spot, though it looked empty as ever. Harry had the fleeting urge to call him out, but repressed it. After all it was his fault that the man-or portrait-didn't have any real family left anymore.
With an empty sigh he let himself fall in a sitting position on what had to be his bed. Just like home, he thought to himself-home as in his dorm in Gryffindor tower. Hermione must have gotten the mattress to be just like he liked it. Maybe he should have gone to see how Buckbeak was, but he had no strength left, he hadn't even enough to try to lay down. So he just sat there and allowed his mind to drift in a numb mist. He didn't even have enough strength to feel anything. It was as though the very walls, though now bright and colorful, were slowly seeping everything out of him, more so than ever before. Than again, he himself hadn't been too bright before getting there. He didn't know how long he sat there like that, but the familiar voice from the shadows of the portrait before him wasn't unexpected, or unwelcome, though the greeting wasn't of his favorites, "Are you breathing?"
Harry gave a dull chuckle, "I think so. Not too sure, though," he wasn't kidding.
"Your friends thought you'd fancy the new decor," his voice was there, but his portrait was still dark as he spoke. "I was rather fond of its former look, but this isn't all too shabby, though on the bright side. They worked quite hard to finish it in time for your arrival."
"Oh," Harry whispered, "they did?" He knew they did, but he felt too weak to appreciate it. That was the whole problem right there. He was just too weak.
"Yes, well, I should say that clever girl did most of it. She might have finished much sooner if she didn't waste so much time trying to sprone those redheaded rebels," that got a genuine laugh out of Harry.
"Yeah, she's still at it," Harry smiled, though he sobered when a question struck him. "How did she get rid of the portrait of Sirius' mother?"
A silence ensued for a time, as though Phineas was contemplating whether it was a good idea to tell or not. "She didn't. It wasn't even there when she arrived."
Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "Who did it?"
Another silence. "Don't you think your friends should be the ones to tell you? That boy, Ron, and his sister Ginny, saw the whole thing."
"No," Harry replied without even bothering to think about it. "I don't think they'd tell me."
"Why not?"
He drew a heavy sigh. "Because they think I need to be protected."
"Oh, the youth of these days! They don't even trust their own friends!" Phineas huffed, though he didn't sound all that convinced of his own words. "Well," he added, "they do want to protect you. Though that Muggleborn thinks you need no protection at all."
"What?" Harry asked surprised. He was convinced that Hermione was the one that wanted to shelter him the most. Then again, Phineas might have been playing with him.
"Well, I'm sure you're too busy wallowing in self pity to notice how much they're doing for you," Phineas told him absentmindedly.
"What do you mean?"
Phineas' reply was rather saucy. "Oh, you'll find out soon enough." And another silence ensued.
"Phin-I mean, Professor Nigellus?" Harry called. No reply. He tried again, and still no reply came. He'd gone elsewhere.
"Hey, Harry, who were you talking to?" The twins asked after Hermione opened to door for them and gave them an eye roll as they still hovered pitifully on their new inventions. Ron and Ginny followed, a school textbook in hand. Harry just shrugged his shoulders.
"Harry, did you get any sleep at all?" Hermione asked as she stepped closer to him and examined his face. He was ashen and gray and he looked deadly tired.
"Would you like me to make you some sleeping drought?"
"No I'm fine," he replied simply.
"Are you sure?" She insisted. "You know it's no trouble. I have to make some for Professor Lupin, anyway."
"Lupin?" Harry asked, curious. Why would Lupin need sleeping drought?
Everyone seemed to be simultaneously struck by the need to look at anything that wasn't his face at the moment. They seemed to find the floor a rather interesting sight all of a sudden. Hermione watched all the Weasleys indignantly.
"Oh, fine! I'll tell him. Honestly!" She huffled at them, her hair puffing out with her temperance, making her look like an angry cat. With a sigh, she quietly took a seat next to Harry, her hair seeming to deflate. The twins left their perch on their precarious vehicles, finding the foot of Ron's bed more appropriate. Ginny sat next to her. Ron across from Harry on his own bed. "Harry…Professor Lupin, he…well, he's been finding it hard to sleep lately." Well, that far, Harry could have gone himself, after all, why else would he need a sleeping drought? His question was, "Why?"
She twirled a strand of dark hair around a finger while she nibbled on her lips in search for the right words. "You know the portrait that was in the hall?"
"The one of Sirius' mother?" Hermione nodded. "What happened to it? How did they get it down?"
"You know how it always started screaming when there was the slightest noise," Harry nodded. "Okay," Hermione said after taking in a deep breath, "during the first day of the full moon, Fred and George were testing out another version of that stupid twig, and-" and she was interrupted by said twins.
"It's not a twig! It's a Hoverstick!" They corrected.
"Twig!" Hermione went on. "In any case, well, they crashed into the heads of the house elves-"
"Yeah, didn't fancy that at all," Fred shuddered at the memory.
"Aw, I'd do it again just to see Kreacher's face," George replied.
"Wait, Kreacher's still here?" Harry asked, a twinge of horror creeping into his voice, the first sign of a sensitive reaction on his part in the last few weeks. Harry had been terrified at the idea of simply stepping back into the house, but what would he do if he were to come across Kreacher?
"Oh, but he's been hiding since then," Ginny waved his concern aside.
"Yeah, the place has been much better since," Ron grumbled.
"But Mad Eye cast a spell on him, so now he can't leave this house even if he's ordered to," Ginny reassured Harry, probably worried of another possible leak of information via deranged house elf.
"IN ANY CASE!," Hermione stopped them from getting further derailed off the track of conversation. It was obvious that the only one that wanted to tell Harry what had happened to the portrait was the one that he would have least expected. "In any case," Hermione picked up again, "when they made all that noise, the portrait woke up."
Harry nodded for her to go on. She didn't know how. Her twirling of the strand was becoming maniacal.
"Harry, Professor Lupin had just turned into a werewolf," she looked to him to see if he understood. He didn't. She took a deep breath before continuing. "Even if he'd taken the Wolfsbane…well, his transformation was very painful. Moreso than usual. You see, he's been edgy since…the Department of Mysteries, and all that's happened." Harry still wasn't getting it, although he had noticed that Lupin seemed to be acting rather strange.
"See, Harry, usually, when it's the full moon, Professor Lupin asks to be locked in one of the rooms. Well, when the portrait woke up and started screaming, Lupin snapped, I think," she tried to explain. "I wasn't there, Harry, I can only tell you what I've been told from others, but Mrs. Weasley said that the screams were horrible, and that, when she went to check, the room in which Professor Lupin had been locked in…well, it was destroyed. The door had been clawed down," she told him.
Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Benign, friendly Remus Lupin tearing down a door with his claws, after having taken his potion. "Hermione, what did he do?"
"Oh, Harry," her strand of hair had become a dark, knotted fuzzball with all her twirling it, so she moved onto a different one, "he broke down the door and then he went up to the portrait, and…well, he took everything out on her. He ripped huge tears into the canvas, to the point that there was almost nothing left. I saw what was left of it. Who was there said that the portrait sounded like a dying Banshee, and that, all of a sudden, it stopped. And then he moved onto the heads of the house elves that had been knocked over. He rampaged the whole house, everything that…everything that Sirius hated about it. He destroyed it." There was a general intake of breath from all around, almost as though Sirius's name was as forbidden as Voldemort's. But Harry was glad she'd pronounced it, though he didn't know why. It made him feel alive, as though the name itself was full of vitality, enough to breath some into him.
"But," Harry began voicing a doubt, "didn't he take the potion?"
"Yes, he did Harry, and there was nothing wrong with it, if that's what you're wondering," Hermione answered clearly. "He didn't try to bite Fred and George, or anyone else that was in his path when he lost his head. He tried to go for Kreacher when he saw him, but he-Kreacher-disappereared to Merlin knows where and we haven't seen him since," she explained. "It wasn't the werewolf that destroyed the House of Black, Harry. It was Lupin. Maybe he wouldn't have done it if it wasn't for his animalistic instincts, but Lupin wanted to destroy everything that his friend hated." She took one last deep breath. "He did it for Sirius."
The air itself seemed to sit still, as though incredulous of all that Hermione had dared to say. Nobody wanted any of that said. None of it. And how would Harry react? He was immobile. For the longest time he was completely still, everyone around him holding their breaths, waiting for some kind of reaction from him, any sign of life at all. Even his temper tantrums from only a year prior, with all their tempestivity and intensity, were preferable to this. At least those were alive. Finally, Harry took an audible breath, and, as though he was too tired to sit any longer, he found himself inching back until his back laid on the mattress. Strange. Earlier he felt as though laying down was too big of an effort. Now, he doubted he would ever be able to stand again.
"So that's why everything changed," he commented out loud. And in all of that story, the thing that surprised him the most was that it had been Hermione to tell him everything. Who'd figure that Phineas Nigellus would be right?
Hermione nodded, her face almost directly above his, full of concern. "As soon as Lupin finished his rampage, he fell asleep exhausted in the middle of the hallway, and when he woke up, human again…he didn't remember any of it. When I got here, that afternoon, he asked me if I could help him make the house look happy for when you got here. It didn't even take long, because there were only shreds to pick up." Harry raised his eyes to hers. "Well, he did do it for Sirius, though he didn't say it, because this is the house in which Sirius would have liked to grow up-that's what he said when we finished-but he did it just as much for you, Harry."
Harry didn't even need to ask what she meant. He was all that was left of the best days of Lupin's life. First his father, James, had died, at the hands of someone that he trusted, and Sirius was blamed for it. In one night he'd lost the three most important people in his life; one to Azkaban, one to the Dark Side, and one at the hand of the betrayer. And he'd had to lose Sirius twice over. Now Harry was all that was left of it all. But how could Harry live up to that? How could he come to care for Lupin-not that he didn't already-as much as he had for Sirius, and then be the cause of his death as well? In Harry's mind there was the certainty that Lupin would die if they were to get close. People got hurt when they got close to him. He already thought it was a miracle that his friends had only been injured. He was already quite sure that Hermione's injury had been a lot worse than what she had let on. A soft knock was heard at the door, and Mrs Weasley peeked in. "Dinner's almost ready," she announced, though she was more than a little subdued. "Come on down."
"Come on, Harry, time to eat," Hermione said, suddenly quite cheery, and, standing, she grabbed onto his hand and tugged him into a standing position as easily as she would a rag doll. "You," she said jovially while poking his sides, "definetely need to eat more."
Throughout dinner, Harry found it rather amusing that his friends didn't seem to know how to behave around him anymore. He found it even more amusing, that they didn't seem to know how to handle Hermione either. Strange, considering that, at that table, she was the only one behaving like her normal self.
They must have thought she'd gone crazy.
°*°*°
They'd been quiet throughout the whole meal, only interrupted every once in a while by Hermione's complaint about the fact that their Hogwarts letters still hadn't arrived. She had also said that Ginny was rather terrified of her upcoming fifth year after having seen the insanity that seemed to ensue with its coming, and that she didn't know if finding out her friends OWL results would help her in the matter, or only increase her fears. Ginny had barely said a word since he'd gotten there. Fred and George weren't letting her hear the end of it.
The only one that had spoken directly to Harry had been Hermione. Ron had just watched him strangely for the entire duration of the meal. Harry knew that he was worrying them. He knew that he should have been making an effort. He also knew that he couldn't. The only solaces were Hermione-her behaviour, completely unchanged toward him, seemed to be able to draw out his own usual self, even if only in small part-and Tonks-who was still huffing and pouting about her reassignment to worry about treating Harry as though he were a total loon. Mrs Weasley looked too close to tears whenever she looked at Harry to bother saying anything.
Looking at her watch she gasped, and ordered them all to leave instantly. "Meeting's going to start soon. You should all be getting out of here. Now." She was still wealding her menacing wooden spoon. Nobody wanted to face its rath.
And at that precise moment-as they were demurely inching away from the horrifying weapon-beloved Severus Snape walzed in as though being summoned after having apparated, looking darker than ever. Harry had initially blamed him for…everything, but, for some reason, now he didn't even have the strength to detest him. After a quick goodnight he followed his friends out the door.
"Yes, the little babies can't participate in the big adult meetings, now can they?" Fred taunted in a childish singsong.
"No, they can't," sang along George, "They have to go take their little naps now. Bye, Babies, have a good nap."
Harry turned to give Hermione a quizzical look. "They joined the Order as soon as they became of age," she explained, "and they haven't stopped bragging about it yet. But it's useless to try and find out anything from them. They said they gave Dumbledore their word, and they're not going to break it."
"Yeah, but if Iridis doesn't show up tonight we could try with the Extendable Ears again," Ron piped up finally. It seemed that his curiosity about the going ons of those meetings hadn't diminished at all. If anything, it had increased even more, now that everyone knew of You Know Who's return.
"What if your mother finds out?" Harry asked.
"She won't. Ever since Iridis started showing up she doesn't even check," Ginny answered as she crouched down behind the stair rail, where it was dark enough to not be noticed. Ron and Hermione followed suit, so Harry did as well.
"Who's this Iridis?" Harry questioned.
"Iridis Larvae," Hermione answered. "She's an Oculus Immensus."
"A what?" He turned to her with furrowed eyebrows.
"An Oculus Immensus. They're very rare," she began to explain. "They're born with the white eye."
"And what's that?" She was getting more and more confusing.
"I'd tell you if you'd let me," she replied a bit saucily.
"Sorry," he mumbled as he watched Professor McGonagall apparate into the hall, followed by Professor Flitwick, allowing Hermione to finish her lecture.
"Someone with a White Eye is blind, generally they don't have eyes, but they can see everything, supposedly. Including spirits. Generally they become mediums. Anyhow, nobody really knows how they see everything, because even if they tried to tell you, they can't describe it, since they don't know how we see, but it's said that their sight, if it can be called that, can see all around them, through walls, through minds-"
"Minds?" Harry interrupted surprised.
"Yes," she answered, "somehow they sense things and this sensing gives them some kind of visual sight. Many think that they can hear your thoughts, but I think its' more like they percept them, they can basically see what you're thinking about. Even if they could hear your thoughts, I don't thinnk they'd need to."
"Why not?" This time it was Ron to ask. He himself knew as little about them as Harry did.
"Because they can sense us," Hermione answered quickly. "If your heartbeat speeds up, if your breathing changes, if your palms are sweaty, if you start feeling agitated, if your face heats up, or if you start biting your nails, they can sense all those things and read into their meaning. We don't even realize it, but we do thousands of things when we're in a certain state of mind that we don't even pay attention to, but they do, and that gives us away to them."
Harry was confused, as well as Ron and Ginny. Could there really be human beings such as the one Hermione was talking about? Ron and Ginny already knew her, but they had never known what she really was. They just thought she had strange eyes.
"There she is now," Hermione whispered after someone Harry had never seen appeared in the hall. His eyes widened. She was an albino. A tall, ghostly figure in pale robes. She was lithe and thin, almost too thin, nearly skeletrical. She moved as though her feet didn't touch the ground at all. Her skin was the palest he'd ever seen, as though she'd never stepped into any sunshine in her entire life, and her hair was as white as milk and as long as her back. For a second, Harry feared her. Until she looked up at where they were hiding. Her facial features were soft, though not defined at all, her eyebrows thin and white-they didn't even seem as though they were there, her forehead wide, her nose thin and long, though her cheeks full. Her eyes were entirely white. They looked empty. She looked like she had no face at all, though he wasn't scared of her anymore. She seemed to radiate warmth, though she looked as cold as marble, and even if she had no irises he felt as though she was watching him tenderly. Her mouth formed a knowing smile as her visage faced the direction in which they were before turning to the kitchen and entering it. For some reason, Harry felt as though she'd smiled some life into him.
"Well, she saw us," Hermione grumbled before standing up, "no point in staying here anymore."
Harry gave one last glance to the spot that the strange woman had vacated before following. "Are there many wizards like her?"
"No, I think she's the only one," she answered turning back to him. "The White Eye is usually a Muggle trait."
"Muggle?" He asked surprised.
"Yes, Harry, hardly any wizards or witches ever had them," she explained. "There can't be more than twenty alive at the time being, and they're all somehow imparented," she told him. "To a very loose degree it's an hereditary trait, and it usually only shows in women."
"But, how can Muggles have it?"
She looked thoughtful as she formulated her answer mentally. "Well, all creatures have a certain amount of magic when their born. In some it grows enough for them to become witches or wizards, in others it doesn't. But, in some cases, their magic will grow in strange ways. It might not become big enough for them to hold a wand and cast a spell, but it will give them certain gifts. The White Eye is manifested at birth, so generally, the magic that could have gone for spells and things is concentrated in it, and it requires a lot of strength, not leaving enough for other things. For a White Eye to be part of the Wizarding World there has to be a lot of power involved, or simply, the person distributes it differently," she finished leaving Harry more confused than before. How could one 'distribute' magic in a certain way? Before he could ask, a yawn overtook him.
Hermione laughed. "I guess we'll talk more about it tomorrow," she smiled. Stepping closer to him she gave him a tight hug while she whispered her, "Good night," and, too soon for Harry, she let go and turned to the room that she was occupying with Ginny. That night, Harry fell asleep feeling a lot more exhausted but a little more alive than the night before.
To be continued
There's chapter 2 for you, remember to always tell me what you think of it, criticism always welcome as long as it's constructive. Oh, and I made up that whole Oculus Immensus thing by mixing different cool characters from some mangas I read, so don't beat yourself up trying to figure her out, cuz even I can't do that. Well, that's it for today.
Thanks for reading
Pearl