Here at the End

Here at the End

By

Ahn Na Blue

Rated PG-13

Chapter Eleven: The Power He Knows Not

Disclaimer: I’m on eleven chapters. I’ve run out of disclaimers.

*****************************************************

Hermione was blinking at him, wide-eyed. She appeared to be speechless. She was frozen in place, lying on the sofa, propped up on one elbow. Harry thought she looked beautiful. He kissed her again and watched her eyes close, and then her brows knit together.

“I don’t understand,” she said softly.

“Of course you do,” Harry smiled at her, the pain in his head and joints completely forgotten.

“But…you never….and Ginny- you-”

“Never loved her,” he said simply, and moved toward Hermione, but she sat up quickly.

“Wait-I have to think,” she said, placing her hand on her forehead. “What about Ron, and Ginny, and-”

Harry sighed and heaved himself up onto the sofa beside her. She was wringing her hands and nibbling on her lower lip nervously. “Are you really all right?” she asked him. “This doesn’t make any sense…You hit your head when you lost consciousness; maybe you have a concussion…”

He smiled and reached out to touch her face. “Hermione- I’ve been wanting to do this….for awhile now.”

“You have?” she sounded doubtful. And scared too. And Harry realized that he was more than just a bit scared himself. She was his best friend, after all, and he had just kissed her. And it hadn’t felt like any other kiss he’d had before.

“Listen,” he said carefully. “I know that this- well, it’s scary, everything right now is scary-”

“With Voldemort, and the horcruxes,” Hermione whispered, looking at his scar.

“Yes,” he said, feeling a great warmth in his chest. He was dizzy just looking at her, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with hitting his head. “But this, you and me, it’s scary in a good way, I think. Besides, do we really have to think about those other things right now?”

Hermione smiled shyly and shook her head, her bushy hair swaying back and forth. Tentatively, she placed her arms around his neck and moved closer…

“Mmm!” Harry squeaked against her lips when she squeezed him a bit too tightly. “Still sore!”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, jumping away. “Harry, we have to get you back to the hospital wing; you’re in no condition to be out of bed.”

“I don’t want to go back,” he said stubbornly. “Do you know how long it took me to get here?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Hermione stated, arching her eyebrow at him. “Well, lie down at least.” And she gently pushed him onto the sofa cushions.

Harry’s eyes fluttered closed. He was really much too happy for a boy who had just been nearly killed by a lake full of Inferi. But he was also still too exhausted to fully enjoy being so happy. He opened his eyes and looked at Hermione, who was sitting at the other end of the sofa, yawning. She must be almost as tired as I am, he thought, or maybe even more; she didn’t get those restful couple of hours that I spent unconscious.

“Hermione,” he said, and gestured for her to lie down with him. She glanced around the empty Common Room and shook her head. He held out his hand. “You’ll never get any sleep, sitting up like that.”

“I don’t know Harry,” she said reluctantly.

“Come on, we’ve slept near each other before.”

“But, things are different now,” she said, and then, looking alarmed, “Aren’t they?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling at her. “They’re very different now. But I promise that I’m too tired to do anything about that tonight.”

Hermione studied him uncertainly for a few more seconds, and then laid down beside him on the sofa. Harry could feel the cozy warmth coming from her and closed his eyes.

“You know, that kiss was pretty good,” he said impishly. “Did you really snog Viktor Krum?”

She replied with a light elbow in his ribs. “Good night, Harry.”

“Ow! Good night, Hermione,” he grinned. And it didn’t take long for him to fall fast asleep, because lying beside her, even on a cramped sofa was ten times better than being in any hospital bed.

********************************

When Harry awoke the next morning, every muscle in his body ached. He felt like he had just been trampled by a herd of elephants. He squinted his eyes against the light, and then blinked. Hermione was gone.

He sat up quickly and winced. “Hermione?”

“She’s gone to the showers.”

Harry turned his head to see Ron standing a few feet behind him. “Oh,” Harry said, trying to sound casual as a trio of first years walked through the Common Room, trying not to stare at him and failing miserably.

“And you’d better go too,” Ron said, his arms crossed against his chest. “McGonagall wants to see you as soon as you’re up.”

“Ron-”

“I’m fine Harry, all right? Just get a move on; McGonagall’s right pissed off with all of us….but mostly with you.” Ron wasn’t looking him in the eyes, rather he was staring down at his shoes, and then over at the wall, and then off towards the portrait hole.

“No, I wasn’t going to ask that,” Harry said, getting to his feet, and that’s when Ron did look at him. He looked him straight in the face.

“Well you bloody well ought to!” Ron sputtered. “You just spent the night sleeping with my girlfriend…and this, right after you’ve been making out with my sister…”

Harry didn’t think that it was the best time to point out to Ron that Hermione wasn’t actually his girlfriend, and that he hadn’t really snogged Ginny in months. “Ron-”

“No, just wait a minute, - you go around snogging everybody you want to, and you never bother to ask me how I feel about it…” Ron pointed his finger at him. “You know, Harry, I’m starting to think that you don’t know when to ask, well let me tell you: when you decided you’d like to snog my little sister, that was a good time, and when you decided you wanted to snog my girlfriend, that was a good time-”

“Ron,” Harry said forcefully to stop Ron’s tirade, which was making him want to smile, and he was fairly certain that smiling at Ron just now would be disastrous. And besides, it was very serious business. “Ron, are you all right with it?”

Ron looked down and shrugged. “I don’t think I have much of a choice, do I? I mean, the way she was crying over you….” He looked at Harry with a sheepish expression. “The way she’s always cried over you…I must’ve been really thick not to see it…”

“You’re not the only one,” Harry said with equal sheepishness.

Harry looked at Ron. Ron looked at Harry. They’d been friends since the moment they set eyes on each other that first day on the train. Harry didn’t know what he’d do if Ron didn’t forgive him…he’d have to find some way to make it up to him, though he had no idea of what that could be. Maybe a boatload of chocolate frogs, he thought. But that wasn’t enough. Maybe two boatloads, and tickets for the Chudley Cannons…

Ron exhaled deeply. “Well, do you suppose there’s time for breakfast before you’ve got to go before the judge?”

Harry blinked. Did he just hear what he thought he heard? It couldn’t be; Ron was a Weasley, he should be turning eight shades of red and beginning to shake. Instead he was standing there very calmly, although a bit awkwardly, and inquiring about breakfast. Harry peered at him, studying the tips of his ears and nose for a hint of Molly’s temper. He couldn’t see any.

“Well? What are you staring at? Can we eat, or not?”

“Sure,” Harry grinned, the relief flooding like cool water all the way down to his fingertips. “Just let me grab a quick shower.”

“I’m hungry,” Ron said, and drew his wand, giving Harry a dose of Scourgeify. “That’ll do for now. Let’s go.”

Harry looked down at his clothes, which were no longer wrinkled. His hair felt suddenly combed (though still unruly), and his whole body felt refreshed. “Thanks,” he said, impressed.

Ron shrugged and they walked towards the portrait hole together.

“Listen, Ron,” Harry said awkwardly after they had ducked through, “I suppose I really haven’t been a very good friend to you lately….but what I was trying to say, earlier, was…thank you, for helping me last night.”

Ron didn’t say anything, just pursed his lips and nodded. They walked in silence to the Great Hall, the smell of fried eggs and bacon growing stronger and stronger. Harry’s stomach growled fiercely; he felt like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“You know Harry,” Ron said thoughtfully as they walked through the enormous double doors, “I think that part of me did know how Hermione felt about you.”

Harry looked over at him, surprised.

Ron gave a weak smile. “I don’t even know what I’ve been feeling for her, all this time. Whether we were just friends, or…I think that it was partly that I wanted her to pick me instead of you. I know it sounds stupid…But I just…wanted somebody to pick me.” He shrugged as they sat down, and reached out to grab a slice of toast off of the floating tray in front of them.

Harry looked at Ron carefully, his eyes floating down to the strange little pin made of feathers and bottle caps. “Someone will,” he said.

***************************

“Potter! Do you have any idea how many school rules you’ve broken?”

“Yes Professor.”

“Traipsing around in the middle of the night after horcruxes! And dragging Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley along with you!” Harry winced. McGonagall’s face was not only stern, it was stern to the point of exploding. Her lips had formed into a grim, thin line. “You could have all been killed! I may have been head of Gryffindor house, but if there were points to take away this year, I would take them all, this instant!”

“I’m sorry Professor,” Harry said, looking very properly down at his shoes.

“I certainly hope so!” she exclaimed, and Harry tried very hard to continue to look at his shoes. But it was difficult, because they weren’t alone: Professor Lupin and Tonks were there, and so was Mad-Eye Moody, and he was very interested to see what they thought of the horcrux.

“Now, I realize that you’ve had the…run of the school, during your time here,” she said seriously, “That you’ve managed to save numerous students, on these little adventures…that you’ve had to battle against your enemies, and in doing so have needed to break the rules…that….that….”

“Ahem,” said Professor Lupin, sensing that the Headmistress was losing her train of thought. McGonagall dropped her forehead into her hand and gave a dismissing wave, obviously too exhausted with Harry to keep on yelling at him.

“I think what the Headmistress is trying to say, Harry,” Lupin said, trying not to smile too much, “Is that there has to be a limit to rule breaking. We’ve told you numerous times before that the Order is behind you, that we’ll keep you informed of the entire situation, and it would be nice if you would do the same.”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry said earnestly. “It’s just that….Well, I didn’t think you’d let me go.”

“Going alone was a poor choice!” McGonagall exclaimed, rallying her strength.

“I wasn’t alone; I had Ron and Hermione,” Harry said simply, and she sighed and waved him off.

“Well, all methods aside, you can’t really dispute his results,” Tonks interjected, glancing over her shoulder at Mad-Eye Moody.

Moody was standing at the rear of the group, but now he moved to the forefront, and Harry could see that he was carrying something large in his arms, something dark and flowing….

“The horcrux!” Harry exclaimed. “Why haven’t you destroyed it?!”

The professors exchanged uncomfortable looks. “Destroying a horcrux is dangerous business, Harry,” Professor Lupin said gravely. “Remember what happened to Dumbledore’s hand.”

Harry looked at the horcrux apprehensively, remembering Dumbledore’s blackened wound. But it was just a bit of cloth; and he had destroyed the diary himself. Nothing bad had happened to him….well, except being bitten by the basilisk, but that had nothing to do with the destroying of the horcrux.

“But I destroyed Tom Riddle’s diary,” Harry said quietly.

“We’re well aware of that,” Moody grumbled. “And nothing happened to you…no burning, no howls of pain…not even a little bit of crying…”

“But we don’t know why,” Headmistress McGonagall said sharply. “Very little is known about horcruxes; for all we know, each one must be destroyed differently-”

“Give it to me,” Harry said suddenly.

“Harry, it’s not safe; don’t try anything,” Lupin warned, even as Moody moved forward to lay the cloth in Harry’s arms.

The minute he touched it he wanted to throw it down. He could feel the power inside of it as he unfurled it and studied its length. And it wasn’t just a bit of cloth, it was a richly embroidered cape, studded with sapphires and detailed with ribbons, obviously one of Rowena Ravenclaw’s favorite garments, and from the way it shimmered, it may have held some magic in it as well.

“Has anyone put it on?” Harry asked.

“No,” Moody said. “It might be magic; and who knows what it does-”

“It could be a trap, for all we know-” Lupin whispered.

But Harry wasn’t really listening to them anymore. He was too busy feeling the curious burn in his scar as he held the cape, too busy thinking of Dumbledore’s hand, of Dumbledore’s death… “We have to destroy it,” he said quietly.

“We will, Harry, we just need time-”

“We have to destroy it now!” Harry’s heart was suddenly pounding; he was thinking of his parents, of Sirius, of Ron and Hermione…he was thinking of everything he had lost, and everything that he could lose. There was a great warmth in his chest, and the air was filling with smoke from somewhere….had there been an attack? He was so dizzy…He could hear the professors shouting, but they sounded miles away.

**********

“How did you do that?”

Harry blinked. He was still sitting in the chair next to the Headmistress’ desk, but he was slumped down, and Moody, Lupin, McGonagall and Tonks were all leaning over him with worried looks on their faces.

“Are you all right, Harry?”

“I’m fine, Professor Lupin. What happened?”

Remus looked at him worriedly. “You don’t remember?”

“No, I…I got dizzy,” Harry started, sitting up, and then he looked down at his lap. He was covered in a thick layer of black ash. “What?”

“Aye, that’s all that’s left of it,” Moody said gravely. “And not a scratch on you. So much for burning, or howls of pain…or crying of any sort.”

“You mean I-?”

“Destroyed it,” McGonagall said, her voice soft with awe.

***********************

“You destroyed it?” Hermione and Ron exclaimed together. “Just like that?”

They were sitting in the library, trying to catch up on their potions essays, but the subject of the horcrux kept coming up, and they weren’t making very much progress. Not even Hermione could keep her quill moving for more than ten seconds at a stretch.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly ‘just like that’,” Harry said, remembering his burning scar and heart, and his dizzy-ness.

“How did you do it?” Ron asked, completely ignoring his scroll of parchment, which had a total of two sentences written on it.

“It was like,” Harry paused as he struggled to explain. “It was like how it was with Pettigrew, which was like how it was with Quirrell…except that it wasn’t…this time I think I knew what I was doing.”

“You could control it?” Hermione asked, trying to talk and write at the same time.

“I think so…but not exactly….I mean, I knew that I wanted to destroy it, and then it just happened…” Harry shook his head. How could he explain it to them when he didn’t really understand it himself? He tried to remember how it felt to destroy it, knowing that he had to…for his parents…for Ron and Hermione…but as hard as he tried, his scar and heart refused to even tingle.

“That’s really-” Hermione began, and then stopped, as Ginny walked by their table with her head held high. She didn’t pause, or give any indication that she had noticed them at all.

Hermione looked down uncomfortably. “I guess she’s not speaking to us,” she said quietly.

Harry looked around. The entire library had gone quiet, just for that one wordless encounter. He frowned. Of course Ginny knew about him and Hermione…this was Hogwarts, after all. The whole school knew.

“Well actually, she’s speaking to me,” Ron said with an awkward grimace. “But only to tell me that I need to be a man and stand up to you,” he looked at Harry, “and get my girlfriend back.” He glanced at Hermione, who blushed. Ron picked up his quill. “But don’t worry, Harry, I’ve no intention of doing that…considering what a homework tyrant she is, I think I may have just dodged a stinging hex here.”

Harry smiled as Ron hummed a tune and scribbled away on his essay, completely ignoring the incredulous expression on Hermione’s face. That is, until she punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What? I’m writing, aren’t I?”

“Ron Weasley, if you think I’m going to let you flunk out just because I’m not your girlfriend then you’ve got another thing coming!”

“Of course I don’t think that; you weren’t my girlfriend for the first six years we’ve known each other, and that never stopped you from harping!”

“Harping!? Well you could use it! Just look at that topic sentence! And ‘slug horn’ was our teacher last year, not an ingredient in regeneration potions!” Hermione began to dig in her bag for the self-correcting ink.

“I knew we shouldn’t have saved you from that troll,” Ron grinned, and Hermione sputtered for a minute before shaking her head and grinning back.

“Are you going to let him talk to me like that, Harry?” she asked him, arching her eyebrow in that challenging way that she had.

“I suppose she’s right, Ron, I’ll have to start sticking up for her now,” Harry smiled.

Ron moaned. “Oh, you’re not bloody serious…”

Hermione was smirking smugly. “All right, enough goofing off. Back to work.” She flicked the feather of her quill in both of their directions.

Harry watched her affectionately for a few seconds before trying to continue with his essay, which dealt with various commonly used recovery potions. He just couldn’t think of the right way to prepare clotting cream. He glanced up at Hermione, who was scribbling away, and then over at Ron, who was also watching her. He now had three sentences on his parchment.

Harry sighed. “Then again, maybe we really shouldn’t have saved her from that troll…”

And then he and Ron had a good-natured laugh until Hermione punched them both in the arms.

*******************************

Harry was walking quickly through the hallways with his head down. He was trying to make it on time to meet Professor Lupin for his Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, one lesson in an endless stream of lessons it seemed, because since his destruction of Ravenclaw’s cape, the Order of the Phoenix had gone into overdrive, its members both scattering and pouring in, and each one wanted Harry trained in different techniques than the last. He’d barely had five minutes alone with Hermione, as rapid preparations were being made which required her help as well; they were trying to duplicate her talisman in order to allow the deployment of several retrieval teams. Three of the seven pieces of Voldemort’s soul had been destroyed, and possibly a fourth, if the mysterious R.A. B. had made good on their promise, and it seemed to Harry that the more horcruxes they found, the more paranoid the order became that Voldemort would somehow discover what they were planning. But following that line of thinking, he wondered if it was such a good idea to let Hogwarts become such an ant’s nest of activity.

On the bright side of such busyness, he hadn’t had any time to think about Ginny, or to stop and try to talk to her when they happened to pass each other in the halls. From what Ron said, late at night in the Common Room when they had finally finished working for the day, she was still extremely angry, and was no longer even speaking to him.

“Excuse me,” Harry panted, as he nearly trampled a tiny first year, who was pulled out of the way by her friends at the last moment. He could hear them start to whisper about him as he passed, but these days he didn’t mind; the whispering had changed from wide eyed stares and the hissing of ‘he’s The One!’ to sly stares and the hissing of ‘he’s The One, and isn’t he dating Hermione Granger? And didn’t she save his life?’

Harry smiled to himself, wondering if Hermione was noticing a bit of the same thing, and then he turned the corner and ran straight into Ginny and Luna Lovegood.

“Hi Harry,” Luna said dreamily, and Harry said hello back, glad of the excuse to look at her instead of Ginny, who was glaring at him. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Oh, a…um…Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson,” he said uncomfortably, but Luna didn’t notice. She smiled and cocked her head to one side. Her necklace of bottle caps jangled.

“I remember when we were all in Dumbledore’s Army,” she said wistfully. “And you taught us all about defense….you did so well…do you remember that, Ginny?”

Harry glanced reluctantly over at her, but she just shifted her glare briefly to Luna before stalking away, passing Harry as though he didn’t exist. Harry frowned. He had been angry at Ginny, for what she had done to Hermione, but he didn’t want things to stay like this. She was his best friend’s sister…he didn’t want it to always be like it was with him and Cho Chang, too uncomfortable to say two civil words to each other…

“She’s just upset, Harry.”

He turned back to Luna with surprise. Her voice had lost all of it’s usual dreaminess. “I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he said honestly. “Hermione and I…we didn’t know…well, at least I didn’t know, and Hermione never would have done anything-”

“I know that, and you know that, and Hermione knows that,” Luna said, affixing her now famous roaring lion hat onto the top of her head, “But Ginny isn’t so sure.”

“I know how it must seem,” Harry said, trying to avoid looking directly at the hat, “I just wish Hermione and I would’ve figured things out sooner, so no one would have gotten hurt.”

“So do I,” said Luna seriously. “I’ve spent so many hours listening to Ron puzzle through his feelings for Hermione.” She looked down.

“I’m glad that he has you to confide in,” Harry said.

“Yes, ‘Loony’ Lovegood is an excellent confidante…you can tell her anything…because who would believe her, if she told…”

Harry looked at her, at the bottle cap necklace, and the lion hat. And also at the very pretty, very sweet face beneath the hat. “Ron doesn’t think of you like that. He thinks you’re great- he..er…he really likes that pin you made,” he finished , a bit lamely he thought, but Luna brightened.

“The gwimbly woll!? He said he’d go out with me someday, looking for real ones,” she said excitedly. “We’d have to go deep into the blackest part of Muddgutt’s Delta….” Her face fell. “I’m sure he was only making fun of me.” She smiled and shrugged. “Everybody does.” And then, before Harry could think to say anything else, she walked away.

***********************

Harry’s DADA lesson left him with the usual scrapes and bruises, and he entered the Common Room looking forward to a bit of a dueling cream fight with Hermione. He was thinking of just how nice a shoulder rub would feel, and smiled lazily at the Fat Lady, who rolled her eyes at him. But when the portrait swung open, he stopped short.

Everyone in the Common Room was motionless, aside from Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, who were shouting at each other. Or rather, Ron and Ginny were shouting, and Hermione was looking nervously from one to the other. And then the portrait snapped shut, very loudly. Harry mentally cursed the Fat Lady as everyone, including his three arguing friends, turned to stare at him.

After a few very uncomfortable seconds, Ginny shouted. “Oh, will the two of you just leave me bloody well alone?! I never want to speak to any of you again!” And then she ran for the stairs in a huff.

“Well I’m family,” Ron shouted after her. “You can’t avoid me forever! We live at the same house!”

Harry walked cautiously over to them, each footfall sounding extremely loud in the uneasy silence.

“I guess she’s not ready to talk to us yet,” Hermione said awkwardly.

“That was a lot of shouting,” Harry said quietly.

“Could be worse,” shrugged Ron. “We could have gigantic bogies flying around our faces.”

Harry and Hermione gave him disgusted looks, and then they all three glanced over their shoulders at the rest of the staring Gryffindors, who were making no attempt whatsoever to conceal their curiosity.

“Um, I’m going down to visit Buckbeak and Hagrid,” Hermione said.

“We’ll join you,” Harry and Ron said together, and they quickly filed out of the Common Room.

************

“Nice night,” Ron said as they walked across the cool, moonlit grass.

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled, watching the reflection of the white crescent in Hermione’s eyes as she looked up at it.

“Makes me forget all about what I’m going to have to tell Mum.”

“What do you have to tell Mrs. Weasley?” Hermione asked.

Ron looked at her incredulously. “About Ginny! Upsetting her like we have…I think we can all expect a round of really good Howlers…”

Harry and Hermione winced at the thought as they walked up to Hagrid’s hut. The windows were all lit with a warm yellow glow. It would be nice to see Hagrid again, the three of them together…perhaps he had some new horrible beast to show them. Hermione peered around the corners of the hut.

“No sign of Buckbeak,” she said. “Maybe he’s inside with Hagrid.” She knocked firmly on the door, and waited a few seconds before trying the knob. It creaked open easily, allowing the smell of Hagrid’s unchewable treacle fudge to reach their nostrils. But Hagrid himself was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is he, I wonder,” Hermione said thoughtfully, and then called out his name.

“Well, it’s not like he can be hiding in here,” Ron said, looking doubtfully around the empty hut.

“Maybe he’s out in the pumpkin patch,” Hermione said, and whistled for Buckbeak. “Do you see him anywhere, Harry?”

But Harry wasn’t listening. He was looking around the hut with growing unease. Something was wrong. There was a half-full cup of tea sitting by the window, and the fire was quickly burning down to soot. He walked carefully towards the back of the hut.

“Hermione, Ron, come here,” he said, and the tone of his voice brought them at once. They stood behind him, and stared. The back door was wide open, and swinging in the breeze.

“I don’t like this,” Ron said, edging closer and staring out into the dark of the forest. “And what is that thing…lying there…is that a rock? Or-”

“Buckbeak!” Hermione shrieked, and vaulted through the open door.

“Hermione! Wait!” Harry tried to grasp her but she was already gone, running headlong into the dark to where the hippogriff lay motionless at the edge of the trees. When they reached her she was on her knees beside him, fluttering her hands over his wings. She looked up at Harry tearfully. “Is he-?”

Harry bent down and touched the hippogriff’s beak. For a moment he felt nothing and felt a great weight descend in his stomach, but then Buckbeak exhaled, and inhaled with a hitch. “He’s all right,” Harry said, with relief.

“But he’s not,” Hermione exclaimed, and he wasn’t; he was covered with cuts, and there was a pool of blood around his head. “What did this? Where’s Hagrid?”

“Look at the tracks,” Ron gasped, pointing to the ground beside them. There were definite signs of a struggle: deep scrapes in the earth and dirt kicked everywhere. And worst of all, a large patch of blood and flattened grass, and then more tracks that led into the forest.

“Hagrid,” Harry said, and stared into the dark. “Hermione, go back and get help.”

“No! You’re not going in there alone!”

“There’s no time to argue. Whatever did this to Buckbeak got Hagrid too, and it was in a hurry; it didn’t even take the time to kill Buckbeak. We have to go now.” Harry drew his wand, and Hermione looked sorrowfully at the hippogriff and then stood and drew hers as well. “Ron-”

“I’m not leaving you two, so don’t even ask,” Ron snapped, his wand already drawn. “But if this something could do this to Buckbeak, and could get a half-giant who must’ve been spitting mad, I don’t exactly want to tangle with it alone…”

“Look, we’re wasting time!” Harry said impatiently.

Ron’s eyes widened. “Shoot sparks into the air,” he said quickly. “Like you did in the maze during the Triwizard Tournament.”

“But whatever it is,” Harry said doubtfully, “It’ll see us coming…”

“Well we weren’t exactly going to sneak up on it, were we?” Hermione asked, liking Ron’s idea. “Shoot the sparks. Someone has to see it and come…someone from the Order…”

Harry looked at them both for a moment and then raised his wand, shooting off a fury of red sparks. And then he started to run alongside the tracks, with Ron and Hermione right on his heels. “All right, keep shooting them,” he panted, and saw each of their sparks reflected in his glasses like a desperate celebration.

He only hoped that somebody was watching.

*************************************************

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I worked as fast as I could, but thank you for the most excellent reviews! And so many! I think I replied to you all, except those of you who signed Anonymously, because I can’t be sure you’re getting my replies anyway. But if you signed, and I missed you, yell at me. A lot.

Okay anyway, in the next chapter, something bad happens! And things may get emotional for Harry and Hermione…which provides ample opportunity for fluff! And come on, have you guys forgiven Ron yet?

Thanks for the support Harmonians….keep up the theorizing….who needs anvils when we’ve got subtext? What kind of mystery writer leaves behind a trail of ANVILS anyway?